26410	----	PEAK'S ISLAND A ROMANCE OF BUCCANEER DAYS BY FORD PAUL PORTLAND, MAINE PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 1892 PRESS OF BROWN THURSTON CO., PORTLAND DEDICATED TO Cora Caroline Clifford AS A SMALL TRIBUTE OF GREAT LOVE BY THE AUTHOR FORD PAUL CHAPTER I. Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean roll; . . . . . . Upon the watery plain. The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When for a moment like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. SEPTEMBER 27, 1607. Dead bodies everywhere. The ocean, lashed to fury by the gale of yesterday, came booming and hissing upon the beach in great breakers white with foam; each billow as it dashed upon the jagged and broken rocks bore in its terrible embrace still more human victims, or some portion of the two unlucky ships that were fast breaking up. One wedged in between two rocks with just sufficient play to allow of its heaving from side to side, with every wave that struck it. The other and much larger vessel, the Queen Elizabeth, a fine British ship, which had sailed from England freighted with a cargo of general merchandise for the colony of Virginia, went crashing up against the cruel stone teeth of the cliff which overhung and projected into the angry sea; dismasted, her bulwarks and rigging torn away she floated out into deeper water only to be driven back again upon the rocks, by the violence of the wind and the rapidly incoming tide. Another crash and another, the forecastle carried away, the decks opening, bales, chests, cordage, stores of all sorts tossed high up on the shore, more dead bodies--chiefly of men, for they had some time before given up to the few women and children the now capsized and shattered boats. All along the shore, as far as eye could see, the beach was composed of a heterogeneous mass of enormous fragments of rock thrown together and piled up on each other, leaving here and there in their midst a separate pool of sea water; in some of these pools was a dead body or two, but by far the greater number were lying in every imaginable, distorted position among the huge, irregular blocks of stone. Many, who had been washed in sufficiently far to escape drowning, were killed by the force with which they were dashed on shore: there, with broken bones and gnashed and blood-stained bodies, they slept in death, like men who had fallen in some great battle. It was noon, but not a ray of sunlight glinted across the ghastly scene. Every sound was lost in the terrific roar of the great, heaving hills of water, which rolled in continuously; huge masses of wet gray cloud hung over all, obscuring or transforming every visible object. Far up among the shingle lay one human form which still bore signs of life. It was that of a young lady, attired in deep mourning, a stream of blood trickled down the pale face, and from time to time one hand moved convulsively toward a deep cut in her head as if to assuage the pain; presently in half-consciousness she whispered "Do not tell my mother I am hurt, it would grieve her. She has had too much sorrow already." The beloved mother, and all others who had made life precious to the speaker, had three years previously been tenderly laid to rest in their quiet graves thousands of miles away; but at this moment the mind had only half awakened. A few minutes later her brain was clear and active, and the truth flashed upon her in all its force. The recollection of her bereavement and the fact of her being utterly alone in life, were the first thoughts that came and the thoughts which dominated. And so it is that all who are called upon to endure a great sorrow, acutely realize that sorrow again and again with each return of the mind to the consciousness of human existence, whether it be after the delerium of fever, the stunning from an accident, or the awaking each morning to daily life. With the awaking to our senses assuredly comes the old heartache; nay, before we awake it is there, and before we are conscious of aught else we are conscious of the grief which weighs heaviest on our soul. Thus it was with Anna Vyvyan: the awaking to life brought with it the pain in all its intensity, although she lay there on the cold stones, her clothing drenched through and through, bareheaded, her hair matted together with the sea water, bruised and cut and faint from exhaustion, still the present physical suffering seemed by comparison nothing to her. Everything was buried in the sorrow of the past, the sorrow that she had lived through, but had not left behind. CHAPTER II. The stately homes of England How beautiful they stand, Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land! The deer across their greensward bound Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream. The merry homes of England-- Around their hearths by night, What gladsome looks of household love Meet in the ruddy light! There women's voice flows forth in song Or childhood's tale is told Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page of old. The blessed homes of England, How softly on their bowers, Is laid the holy quietness That breathes from Sabbath hours Solemn, yet sweet, the church bell's chime Floats through their woods at morn, All other sounds at that still time Of breeze and leaf are born. Miss Vivyan was the daughter of an officer of high rank in the navy of Queen Elizabeth, who lost his life in the royal service while his little girl Anna was still very young. His valor had gained for him many medals and yet more substantial honors in the form of valuable grants of land from Her Majesty. This property, added to the family inheritance of Anna's mother, who was a lady of old and noble race, left both the widow and her child in very affluent circumstances. The young widow, handsome and possessed of brilliant talents, attracted many suitors for her hand; but her heart lay far down beneath the sea with her dead husband, and she resolved to devote her love and her life to the care of her child. She accordingly retired to an old manor house on the borders of Wales, which had descended to her through many generations. The great stone halls and corridors, the long, low rooms and the little diamond-shaped window panes, admitting so small an amount of light, might have given to some minds a feeling of gloom; but both mother and daughter had their occupations, the one in giving, the other in receiving, an education, beside the care of all the sick and poor peasants of the neighborhood. Indeed they were so happy in their affection for each other and found so much to do, that they had neither the time nor the inclination to cultivate morbid or gloomy thoughts, which would, they felt, make their companionship an infliction on every one whom they approached, and unfit them for the duties of their position. So life went on calmly and happily with them. A faithful steward attended to the estates and a good old housekeeper managed the servants, always keeping order, discipline and peace in the establishment. Twice a year they were allowed to have a dance in the servants' hall, one at Christmas and the other on Anna's birthday, on which occasions they invited the sons and daughters of the neighboring farmers, and the tradespeople who supplied the manor house. The village shoemaker, the tailor, and the blacksmith were the musicians, and to the strains of two violins and a clarionet, they merrily danced through the livelong night, such good old figures as Sir Roger de Coverly, Speed the Plough, and the Cushion dance, till the rising sun streamed in at the windows and warned them that it was time to blow out the candles, take off their holiday garb, and assume their daily work. As for the mistress of the mansion, she found her pleasures in the duties of her position and the rich companionship of a well stocked library. She had no neighbors of her own rank within several miles distance, no one to visit or to be visited by, with the exception of the old bachelor clergyman of the parish, whose formal calls took place at stated intervals, unless some sudden case of want among the poor caused him to ask her aid, for he knew very well that her heart and hand went forth on every occasion of distress. Hers it was to soothe and cheer and comfort and help, and many a thorny path was made smooth and many a heavy burden lifted by her brave and generous spirit and the pleasant, cheerful way she had of doing such things. In the presence of others she made a duty of cultivating cheerfulness of manner. Not that she ever for a moment forgot the recollection of her love and her loss; but she considered her sorrows too sacred for a subject of conversation on one hand, and on the other, that her grief was her own, and that she had no right to intrude it upon others, or to weigh down and sadden their lives by what was sent for her to bear. Hence her presence was always welcome to the peasants, who regarded her with reverence and affection, as she passed, accompanied by her little daughter, from cottage to cottage leaving some dainty for the sick, or an article of clothing for the needy. Years went by and Anna had left babyhood far behind her and was now a girl of fifteen. Her mother at this period, decided that it was time to call in the aid of masters to assist in her daughter's education. Accordingly, such were summoned from a distant town. There was a master for the minuette and the gavotte, a master for the harpsichord, a master for the French and Italian languages, and so on. The days and hours were all laid out systematically, giving an abundance of time for physical training and out-door life, but with the exception of the masters for music and dancing (more especially the former) none of these instructors made much impression upon the girl's mind. Her heart and soul were given to music. While she was in the house her time was spent between the old church organ that stood in the hall, and the harpsichord which adorned the long, oak-panelled drawing-room. When out of doors she was forever listening to the music of nature, the wind through the trees, the dash of the water-fall, the rippling of the brook, all had their charm and fascination, for nature never played out of tune. She would try to make out what key these sounds were in, whether they varied at different seasons, or if change in the weather made them alter, Music was her passion, her love, her life. Just at that time, two new inmates were added to the manor house family. Young Cecil Vyvyan, a cousin of Anna's, who was of the same age as herself, and his tutor, Dr. Strickland, a grave, middle-aged Scotch doctor of philosophy. The boy's parents were in India, which caused the widow to suggest to them that he should, for a few years, make his home with her, in order that she might watch over his health, which was exceedingly delicate. It was in the twilight of a day late in the autumn that Anna waited in the large old-fashioned library to make the first acquaintance of her cousin. In the broad stone fireplace, logs of beech and chestnut were piled up on the hearth, across brass dogs, where they blazed, and glowed, and lighted up the comfortable looking room, with its dark, massive, carved oak furniture, its painted glass windows, its rich but faded velvet draperies, interspersed here and there with a piece of old tapestry, the needlework of the ladies of former generations. A few family portraits, and well-filled bookcases of vellum-bound octavos, quartos and folios. As the butler threw open the door of the room and announced Master Cecil Vyvyan, Anna went forward to greet the latter, and almost gave a start of surprise at seeing the real cousin differ so much from the ideal one which she had pictured to herself; for she expected to find Cecil of the same type as the English boys that she had always seen. She thought he would be large of his age, with a fresh rosy complexion, bright eyes, an open countenance, crowned with masses of rich, curling locks. Strong and healthy, overflowing with buoyant spirits, agile and ready for active service either of work or play. Instead of which there stood before her one of small stature and thin, diminutive figure, with a pale, weary-looking face and tired eyes, which apparently did not observe any of the objects by which he was surrounded, but concentrated their gaze upon the young girl only, with whom he stood face to face, carefully regarding her with that scrutiny which we are all wont to use when we first make the acquaintance of a new relative. Anna gave him her hand and welcomed him with a few kind words. As the boy and girl stood there, no two cousins could have appeared more externally unlike, and yet never were two more alike in their highest tastes and deepest feelings. But an ordinary looker-on would only see the boy so small, and quiet, and weary, and the girl so tall, and active, and healthy, abounding in lively spirits, in the full enjoyment of her young life, with the mother she adored, thinking nothing could be more beautiful than her picturesque old home and its surroundings of hill and valley, and woodland, and broad green meadows, and turning over in her mind how she would show Cecil all the favorite haunts. The lily pond in the park, the finest view of the Welsh mountains, and the right place for a good gallop--then the ponies, and the dogs, and the fish pools. "You must be tired from so long a journey, Cousin Cecil," said she, "let me bring this armchair; it is the most restful one in the whole house. It has a pedigree, too, the same as you and I have. It belonged to our great-grandfather, Sir Vyell Vyvyan, and was made more than a hundred years ago from one of the oaks which grew in the north grove in the park," so saying she laid one hand on the back of a huge, cumbersome piece of furniture, and rolled it across the room up in front of the glowing logs. It was now Cecil's turn to be amazed, how could she move that great, clumsy thing, he pondered to himself, I could not. With a gentle thank you, and bowing gracefully to her, he sank into their great-grandfather's chair, and was almost lost sight of among the ample velvet cushions. Anna who had seated herself on one side of the fireplace, was watching the pale face, and the weary eyes that were looking dreamily at the fantastic shapes which from time to time the glowing embers assumed. Presently a slight, convulsive shudder passed through the boy's frame and a quiet little sigh escaped him. He is sad, thought Anna, perhaps he is thinking of his home in Calcutta, poor fellow, I must do something to amuse him. At the same instant, what she considered a very happy thought suggested itself. "I am so glad you came, Cousin Cecil," said she "they say you will soon get well and strong here. I have a little terrier that catches rats, you shall take him out in the morning, if you like, and the gardener's boy will show you where you can kill plenty." "I don't kill rats," he replied, still keeping his eyes fixed upon the burning logs and striving to follow the outlines of a fairy island with palms and tropical plants and ferns as tall as forest trees, which, in his imagination, he saw there. "Do you go with your terrier to kill rats?" he inquired, with the slightest tone of sarcasm in his voice. "Oh, no," replied the girl, "but I thought you would like to. Most boys are amused by it, they call it sport, and you know the rats must be killed or we should have them running behind the wainscot of all the rooms in the house, and the gamekeeper would not be able to rear the young pheasants, and we should have no chickens nor pigeons, nor anything of the kind." "Why, Cousin Anna," said the boy, "have you a Scotch governess, and does she make you give a reason for every thing, and give you her reason in return? That's what Dr. Strickland does with me. It tires me dreadfully, and I don't see what use it is, for I always know things without reasoning about them; they come to me of themselves." Anna, in her eagerness to show kindness to the guest of the house, and to divert what seemed to her his sad thoughts, did not stop to make any reply, but rose and hastily crossed over to one of the bookcases, bringing back in her arms a large folio, full of colored illustrations of field sports. "Now, Cousin Cecil," said she, drawing up a chair close by the side of his, and laying the folio open upon her lap, "this will please you I am sure; this is not about rats, but thorough-bred horses and dogs, stag-hounds and fox-hounds. Did you ever hear that our grandfather kept a pack of fox-hounds here, that is a hundred dogs you know. I will take you to the kennels and the huntman's lodge some day soon." Cecil did not know that a hundred dogs made a pack, for he had passed all his life in India, until a few months previous to his coming to the manor house. "Look at this picture of coursing, here is another of hawking, and now see these otter hounds." "The landscape is beautiful," said the boy. "I like the soft gray light on those distant hills in the background, but I do not care about pictures of horses and dogs; please take them away. I like to see the animals moving in the fields, but I think all this kind of sport is very cruel." This was said in an extremely gentle way, and at the same time with an inflection of the voice which made a deep impression upon his listener. I wonder what I can do to amuse him, thought Anna; I don't suppose he would care to look at my last piece of embroidery, or hear how many sonatas I can play; I am afraid he is sorry he came here, perhaps he was thinking of the Himalaya mountains, when he said he liked those hills in the picture. Most boys like out-door amusements, she again thought to herself, and acting upon the idea of the moment. "Cecil," said she, "we have two capital ponies, we will go out in the forenoon to-morrow if you like, for we are to have a holiday from our studies all day, in honor of your coming here." Again a gentle "thank you" from Cecil, his tired eyes still seeking air castles among the red and gray embers of the fire. After some minutes silence, he turned to look at the tall old clock in the corner, which, in addition to the hours and minutes depicted upon its face, was adorned with supposed likenesses of the sun and moon and other heavenly bodies, beside the terrestrial globe which represented Jerusalem as being situated in the very center of the earth's surface. The same old clock, which had stood in the same corner of the library long enough to mark the hours of the births and marriages, the meetings and partings, and death, of several generations of the Vyvyans, now chimed in slow, subdued tones, through which ran the echo of a wail, like the voice of a human being, who has seen much and suffered much. "Dr. Strickland will expect me to return to him now, Cousin Anna, so I must say 'good evening'." "Before you go, Cecil, tell me at what time you will be ready to ride with me to-morrow?" "I must ask my tutor," he replied. "Very well, you can let me know at breakfast time. I suppose you can find your way to your part of the house, follow straight along the corridor till you come to the south wing at the end. Your study and all the other rooms for you and Dr. Strickland are there. Good night." The next day the ponies were brought round to the hall door immediately after luncheon, and the boy and girl were mounted. Cecil, whose chief mode of locomotion had hitherto been in a palanquin, did not by any means enjoy his present situation; but as he made no remark, his cousin supposed he was as pleased and jubilant at having an opportunity of seeing the beautiful surroundings of the place as she was showing them. They rode through the park, down the long avenue of oaks and beeches, and out by the keeper's lodge to the lake, and then away over the hill among the scattered cottages of the peasants, who touched their hats or curtsied as the cousins rode by. Anna always returning their salutations with some pleasant word or nod, or an inquiry after their welfare. At last they turned their ponies homeward. The boy all the while silent; the girl chattering and explaining and repeating anecdotes which had been told to her, and laughing merrily at the ludicrous passages in them. As they were again entering the park, the boy's riding whip slipped out of his hand and fell to the ground. Looking at his cousin with a grave expression of face, he said, "I have dropped my whip, what shall I do?" "Dismount and pick it up," replied Anna. "But I cannot," he replied, "I am afraid I could not mount again without the groom to help me." "Very well, then I will get it," so down she sprang, passed up the whip to Cecil, and bounding into her saddle again was off at a canter before the boy could say a word. "Come along, Cecil," she cried, looking back, "come along, this is the finest stretch of ground in the country for a race." CHAPTER III. No--that hallowed form is ne'er forgot Which first love traced; Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot On memory's waste. 'Twas odor fled As soon as shed: 'Twas morning's wingèd dream; 'Twas a light that ne'er can shine again On life's dull stream: Oh! 'twas light that ne'er can shine again On life's dull stream. Dr. Strickland and his pupil had been fairly ensconced, and for some time past settled in the pretty, sunny rooms in the south wing of the manor house. All the windows of the lower suite opened to the ground, and overlooked and led into a Dutch flower garden, which, in accordance with its name, was laid out in formal walks with high box borders on each side, and stiffly-shaped flower beds of poppies, and tulips, and marigolds, and clusters of monkshood, and the tall white lilies of France, edged round with thyme and sweet basil. In the soft green turf, were planted evergreen trees, which were cut and clipped into fantastic shapes of peacocks, and pyramids, and cubes, and swans, and other devices. Here and there were clumps of holly and yew, from the midst of which some fawn or dryad, some Hebe or Flora, in Italian marble, had long kept watch. Then there were the old cedars of Lebanon, with seats encircling their great trunks, the ends of their long branches lying on the grass, offering beneath them, rest and shade at any hour of the day. The western side of the garden terminated in what was known as Lady Dorothy's walk. A straight, long, gravel walk, bordered on either side by a few feet of soft turf, and an avenue of yew trees two centuries old. The small closely-growing foliage of these trees was so dense that it formed a perpetual green wall, effectually shutting out all the world, with the exception of the sun at noonday, and the stars and moon at night. At the head of the walk was a sundial, and at the further end a fountain. Not a great, noisy, conspicuous construction, suggestive of the rush and turmoil of life, drowning in its splash all the sweet sounds of bird and bee, and the marvelous music of nature, but a pure, gentle, dainty little fountain, the sound of whose crystal drops, so full of soothing and tenderness, fell upon the ear like the voice of the one we love. Near the fountain was a rustic seat from which one might look across the park with its forest trees, its green undulations, and its lake, and still further away westward to the purple Welsh mountains. In every way this was a beautiful garden, a place to dream of, and live, and love, and die in. Springtime had come, and Cecil and his tutor were sitting in their study, looking out at the linnets flitting about the garden, and at the primroses and blue violets which grew in front of the windows. The lessons of the day were over, and the Doctor was pursuing his favorite amusement, namely, drawing mathematical deductions, and coming to logical conclusions upon all matters. Although he was a ripe scholar, he would frequently forget himself, and break out in his strong Scotch accent; but that signified nothing, as Cecil perfectly understood his speech, and the family all liked him, for they knew he was a good man and greatly interested in the well-doing of his pupil. "Ye had a lang walk wi' your cousin this morning," said the Doctor. "I hope ye understand her better than ye did." "I am not sure that I do," answered Cecil. "I don't see why she moves so quickly and is always well; I don't like people who are always well, they cannot feel for others." "Ye should no say that, Cecil, when ye look at your aunt; she's no invalid, but she gi'es up her life for the sak' o' others. Did ye ken that these verra rooms are the anes she likes most, the anes she lived in till we came, and she gave them up that ye might enjoy the best she had to offer?" "O yes, I know that," said Cecil. "My aunt is very kind, but I was not thinking of her when I spoke, I was thinking of Cousin Anna; she runs so fast and when she is not singing, she is laughing, and I don't believe she has any nerves, for the other day my pony got a stone in his shoe, and she was off hers in a moment, seized my pony's fetlock and snatching up something in the road, knocked out the stone and mounted in less time than I have taken to tell you. Now none of the young ladies in India would take a pony's fetlock in their hand, so I think Cousin Anna cannot possess nerves." "In one respect ye are right," said the Doctor, "Such a young leddie as ony o' those we used to see in India, would ride on and leave ye, and when she got home, she would tell one of the servants to tell some one of the other servants to see aboot it, and when they had passed the order through half a dozen, in the course of a few hours perhaps one of them would be with you, and, in the meantime, she would be lying on the sofa, with Shastri standing by, fanning her out of her nervous shock." "But think of the first day I rode with my cousin, she surprised me so when she picked up my whip, I thought then she had no nerves." "Admitting such a statement to be true," replied the Doctor, "which we are by nae means sure of, for the truth has no been logically proved, I say, admitting that it be true, is it no' a gude thing for ye that your cousin has nae nerrves, if ye are to gang aboot drapping things that ye dar' na pick up again. In the sense that ye appear to desire your cousin to hae nerrves, I dinna ken mysel' what use they wad be to a young leddie wi' a speerit such as she has. I wad no' wish to see a lassie o' her years hae nerrves; na, na, she wad no hae ony use for them; Providence kens what is guide for us a', and will send her the nerrves when she is fit to manage them." "Still I don't see," said Cecil, "why she is not frightened sometimes. Perhaps she may be, but if so she will never say so; I don't think a girl ought to be so fearless." "Perhaps ye dinna ken that young leddies o' her rank in England are all educated in that way. The English hae this proverb amang them. 'A well-born woman is ever brave.' Your cousin inherits her courage a long way back, she is no mongrel born; I wish ye to see for yourself, Cecil, that it is a gude thing to be brave. There are mony ways o' showing it beside being a soldier or a sailor." And then the Doctor dropped his Scotch accent and spoke slowly, "We ought to be brave enough to do our duty to others," said he. "And now I will give you six reasons for being brave for the sake of those we love. Firstly, brave that we may inspire them, with courage when their hearts are weary. Secondly, brave that we may be patient and gentle when their nerves demand rest. Thirdly brave that we may be kind and diligent and loving when they are sick. Fourthly, brave that we may not be morbid and gloomy and thus depress them. Fifthly, brave that we may be faithful and true in all things. Sixthly, brave that we may endure without murmuring to the end." Long after the Doctor had left the room, Cecil was still there, leaning his head against the side of the window and thinking over this conversation. He possessed a generous disposition, and could not bear the idea of having misjudged his cousin. But he was of a sensitive temperament and not having a robust constitution, the girl's gaiety of spirit and great vital energy fatigued him. The cousins continued their amusements and their studies steadily together for the next two years, and although Cecil still called Anna as wild as a hawk, yet he never got into any serious difficulty, but he applied to her to help him out of it, whether it was in solving a problem or otherwise; carrying out Dr. Strickland's teaching he appeared to feel that his strength lay with her and she in her turn was rejoiced to help him. There are natures which seem made to help others, they find their greatest happiness in it; and so it was with Anna, the more he needed her help the more she delighted in giving it. Cecil's health was greatly improved by the climate of England, and with stronger health came stronger nerves. He now no longer thought his cousin without them, but he thought she knew how to control them; in fact, they had grown to love each other with that certain kind of cousinly affection which one often sees, and which is very true and lifelong, but has not the rapture, the intensity, nor the anguish, which belong to really falling in love. It was a day in sweet summer time, all roses and beauty, when the young people met as usual in Lady Dorothy's walk; it was their favorite place, and here they would ramble up and down, and sit by the fountain, and talk, and paint, and read for hours together; and the next day it was the same thing, and the next, and the next, for they never grew tired of the place, or of each other. They were now pacing the long walk, and although they were past the age of eighteen, they still continued their studies, but were permitted to select them. "What a pleasant thing it is, Cecil, to follow out one's own life and study what we wish," said Anna. "I am so glad to be free, no more construing sentences, no more conjugating verbs, no more solving problems; I always hated all of that dry stuff." "What are you going to do, then," inquired Cecil. "Firstly, I shall spend more time with my mother, more time in the study of my music, and read all the poetry I wish to, and ride on horseback, and dance, and, of course, help my mother more in taking care of the peasantry." "Now, Cecil, what shall you do?" "Firstly, I think I shall paint, and rove about among this beautiful scenery," he replied. "I shall paint until I feel sure that I shall take the first prize in the grand exhibition; I will not exhibit one stroke of my brush until then." "Well done, Cecil," said Anna, "that is the spirit I like." For she knew as she looked at him, that he possessed a wealth which no money can buy, a soul full of poetry, a mind full of genius, the elements of true greatness in any art, and the only wealth that she valued. And Cecil went on with his painting, and progressed, and brought more depth of tone and beauty into his pictures with every fresh attempt, till the canvas seemed to live under his hand, and his poetic soul and gentle nature spoke through his art. When any difficulty presented itself, he would always seek Anna and have her near him, not that she was an artist, but from some cause he could paint his best when she was by; indeed they were together the greater part of the time, for if they began the day in their different parts of the house, by some chance they either found each other in the library, or Lady Dorothy's walk, long before noon. They drifted to the same place, they scarcely knew how, but they began to know that the presence of each one to the other, was equally essential to their happiness. Cecil was a poet, not a writer of rhymes or jingles, but as we have said a true poet in his soul. Anna felt this in all her intercourse with him and heard it in the tones of his voice when he spoke, a voice that had a ring in it, a resonance, and that exquisite power of modulation which says more than the words themselves. And so time went swiftly and sweetly by with their walks and rides, and occupations, until they were twenty years old. Anna happy in the possession of Cecil's love, with life as she wished it, pure, joyous life, with music and beauty everywhere. A song ever on her lips, the happiest, merriest maiden in all "Merrie England." Cecil in his gentle way, deriving extreme pleasure from the study and exercise of his art, and Anna's companionship. For the cousinly affection of two years ago, had in both of them merged into deep intense love, which ended only with their lives. CHAPTER IV. And those were sudden partings such as press The life from out young hearts. * * * * * O who wad wear a silken gown Wi' a poor broken heart, And what 's to me a siller crown If from my love I part. * * * * * Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide, wide sea! And never a saint took pity on My soul in agony. It was springtime again, and the snowdrops were nodding their dainty, little white heads, and the linnets were again building their nests in the sweet old garden, when Anna's mother summoned her from Cecil's side in Lady Dorothy's walk, to the oak-paneled drawing-room. "My daughter," she began, "I regret that I must interrupt your present happiness, but circumstances compel me to separate you and Cecil for the present. It is time that you were presented at court, and it is time that you passed a season in London. We have hitherto lead so secluded a life that your name is not known beyond the limits of our county, and I feel I am not doing my duty by you." "But we are all very happy, mother," said Anna. "Why need we be more known?" "Yes, my daughter, we are happy now but changes must come to all sometime. I may be called away from you." "O my dearest mother do not say that, I cannot, I dare not think of what life would be without you; you know I will do anything you wish, or give up everything else in life, but I cannot give you up; it would break my heart, I should die," cried Anna. "Broken hearts don't die, my daughter, would to God that they did; few, very few die of broken hearts, but many live with them. I have carefully considered what is my duty toward you, and my reason and affection coincide; now listen, in case I am called away by death, there is Cecil to whose care and protection I could resign you, for I knew you loved each other long before you knew it yourselves; I am happy that it is so, but if Cecil were taken away also, there would be no very near relatives to care for you, for the nearest members of your father's family are in India, and mine in the colony of Virginia, and as you will inherit the landed estates of your late grandfather as well as mine, it would be better that you should make trustworthy friends before I leave you, I see this pains you, dear daughter, I shall say no more on this subject. In three days we shall set out for London as the season has already begun, and we shall require some time to get our court dresses made." The last evening at the manor house was passed by Anna and Cecil under the light of the stars, in Lady Dorothy's walk. The next morning saw the large, old yellow family coach at the door, drawn by four strong, heavy horses, a coachman and groom on the box, a maid and a butler in the rumble, and the widow and her daughter inside. Cecil who was standing by one of the coach windows looking very pale and thoughtful, tried to put on a smile as he said, "We are to look for you both back again in the early autumn, you said, aunt." "Yes, Cecil, as soon as the first brown leaves fall." The young people looked good by to each other, but said not a word, and the heavy old coach moved away. In three days more the travelers were in London, and in due course Anna was presented at court by her mother, who had herself been presented on the occasion of her marriage. Then came calls and cards and invitations to balls and routs and state dinners, and the poor tired mother went through all these ceremonies as a duty toward her daughter, and the daughter endured it because she loved her mother, and desired to obey her wish. It was necessary that a young heiress of her rank should be dressed in accordance with the fashion of the day, but the young heiress longed to be released from the thraldom of fashion, the fatiguing, heavy brocade dresses, the hoops, the stiff ruff and the stomacher, the farthingale and high heeled shoes, and a thousand times more than all, did she desire to be released from the artificial and to her unsatisfactory life, from the flattery, the coquetry, the idle, envious tattle, and to be back again with Cecil, in her simple, healthy attire, and to live among honest hearts. The autumn came, and the dry brown leaves began to fall from the trees. Day after day, Cecil opened the harpsichord, and laid a bouquet of the rich deep-hued flowers of the season upon it, and then he took his place by the fountain, and watched the winding road through the park, so that he might get the first sight of the coach when it returned. The autumn leaves continued to fall, and Cecil kept his daily vigil until they were lying deep on the ground, and the branches overhead were bare. Then came a letter saying that Cecil's aunt was ordered by her doctor to pass the winter in Italy, in the hope of curing a cough, which had of late settled upon her, so that it would be spring before the ladies could return to the manor house, hence they traveled to Italy and spent the winter among its masterpieces of genius, both in music and art. The soft air seemed all that was wanted to restore Anna's mother to health. Every day, they found something beautiful that they desired Cecil to see, but it was too late now to send for him, for spring was near. With the spring, came back the cough, and again the medical order was change of climate. This time, a sojourn of some months in Norway was prescribed for Mrs. Vyvyan, bracing air, and much out-door life in the pine woods. After many weeks of slow journeying, the ladies with two of their servants reached Norway, and took up their abode in an old chateau, in the midst of a pine forest so-called, but a forest really composed of many varieties of fir and spruce, as well as pine. The combined aroma of these woods made the air fragrant for many acres around the chateau, and for a time, it appeared to have the most beneficial effect upon the invalid. But one quiet eve, when the summer days had waned, and the faded leaves of another autumn fell, a pang of anguish shot through Anna's heart. The dearly loved mother was called away. * * * * * A short time only had elapsed since that event, and the servants were packing, and making preparations for the return to the manor house, when a mounted courier arrived at the chateau, with a large package of papers addressed in Dr. Strickland's handwriting. Very long, and full of feeling, and minute in every detail, was the letter the good man had written, if letter so long a dispatch might be called. He told of Cecil's conversations, of his watchings from beside the fountain; how every day he picked flowers, and put them on the harpsichord, saying this is the place she loves best; and how he faded and wasted day by day, yet struggled so bravely against the hand of death, that he might finish his last and best picture for Anna; and how on the last day of his life, he had laid his flowers on the harpsichord as usual, and then desired to be carried to the library and lifted into their great-grandfather's chair to die,--the chair that Anna had placed for him the first time they met. When Anna had finished reading the final words of Dr. Strickland's letter, she rose and moved quietly into the recess of one of the large, heavily mullioned windows, and looked down a long vista into the forest, to the tall dark pines under which was her mother's grave. Every vestige of color had left both cheek and lip, and she stood in the great somber room, as cold and white and as still as the statues which adorned its walls. The extremes of grief and joy have no speech; she had none. No cry of lamentation went forth; no tears of relief fell from her eyes; she knew her life was ended, but she also knew that she could not die. Three words only escaped her lips. "O God, alone." CHAPTER V. Has hope like the bird in the story, That flitted from tree to tree With the talisman's glittering glory Has hope been that bird to thee? On branch after branch alighting, The gem did she still display, And when nearest and most inviting, Then waft the fair gem away? Among the papers of the late mistress of the manor house, were found two letters which from their dates showed that they had been written during her stay in Italy. One was addressed to Sir Thomas Richardson, Lord Chief Justice of England, the other to her daughter. She appeared to have had a foreshadowing of her death, and directed Anna, in case of such an event, to have Sir Thomas' letter delivered to him immediately, and to abide by whatever decision he might come to. Anna had never seen Sir Thomas, but she knew that he was in some way related to her on her mother's side of the family, and that he was an old gentleman, who lived among his books, in an old-fashioned country house in one of the midland counties of England, with no one but his servants about him. And when the decision came, which informed Miss Vyvyan that she too was to live there, as his ward, she was thankful, for the tie of kindred was strong in her nature, and she thought to herself, there is still a link, that connects with the memory of my loved mother. Besides he is old and alone, perhaps I may be able to do something to make his life less lonely. But what could she do, she asked herself, for to her all seemed vague and undefined. Arriving at the quiet old home of Sir Thomas, with its smooth green lawn and flat meadows around and in front of the house, she was shown into the presence of a tall, stately, white-haired, old gentleman to whom nature had indeed been gracious, for he was extremely handsome, and of courtly manners. He greeted her kindly but with much dignity, and addressed her throughout the conversation as Miss Vyvyan. A shudder swept through her frame each time she heard herself so called, by the only one left who had the right to address her by her own familiar name of Anna, which she had hoped he would do. But although desiring to be in every way kind to his ward, his ideas of dignity and courtesy were fixed, and to him she was always Miss Vyvyan. Thus without a thought of causing her pain, he ever brought before her the deepest sense of her bereavement and her isolation. Life in Sir Thomas' home was very different from life at the manor house, both in doors and out. The old gentleman passed most of his time in his library, and Anna rarely saw him until evening, when he would sometimes instruct her in playing chess. When she went outside of the house, all seemed strange and dull and dreary, plain grass lawns all around, not a flower bed to be seen, no long garden walk, no fountain, no hills to ramble over, no purple mountains in the distance, but a flat level country on all sides. And when she came in doors again, no loved mother, no Cecil to greet her. Nearly three years had gone by since Anna's arrival as Sir Thomas' ward. It was evening, and they had just finished their game of chess, when he for the first time addressed her as my dear young lady, and after a short pause proceeded. "This is not a fit place for you; I am too old to be the companion of youth; I am doing you injustice in allowing you to remain with me, and have decided that you shall have a more suitable home." "I do not wish to leave you, Sir Thomas," replied Anna, "besides I have nowhere to go. I cannot live at the manor house all alone." "Certainly you cannot," he answered. "I have arranged everything for you to the best of my power. You do not really come into property until you are twenty-five years of age. Your landed estates and other moneys are secured to you in such a way that you need not feel the least apprehension about your affairs, everything has been attended to. The manor house will be in the charge of a steward for the present. You will probably wish to live there again some day. As I have just said, I am too old; I may not, I cannot have long to remain here. There is a cousin of your mother living in the colony of Virginia, Fairfax by name. He has a wife and family, two nephews, whom he has adopted, twins, I think, also Fairfaxes. They stand in the degree of a third generation from myself. I mean to say these twins are about the same age my grandson would be now, had he been spared to my declining years. Therefore, they must be a few years older than you are, and more adapted for being companionable to you, than I am. I have been in correspondence with your Cousin Fairfax, during many months, in regard to your making your home with them in Virginia, until you are older, and have ceased so much to need protection, or until you have settled in a home of your own. The arrangement appears to be very agreeable to them, and I trust you will be happy in their society. I cannot part with you without saying that your presence in my house has given me much pleasure--the only one now left to me, that of recollection. Although you are very quiet, for one who has only reached your years, yet the sound of your footstep about the house called sweet though sad memories of my only daughter, and I thank you for them. If I thought only of myself, I should keep you here till the end, but there are times when it is more noble to resign than to fulfill the dearest wishes of our heart." * * * * * It was in the summer of 1607 that Miss Vyvyan, attended by her waiting woman, sailed from England, for the colony of Virginia, in the ship Queen Elizabeth, from which she had just been wrecked, when we took up the narrative of her early life. To that period of time we will now return. CHAPTER VI. This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight. Stand like Druids of old, with voices sad and prophetic. Stand like harpers hoar with beards that rest on their bosoms. Loud from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced neighboring ocean, Speaks and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. * * * * * And thou too who so 'ere thou art That readest this brief psalm As one by one thy hopes depart Be resolute and calm. Oh fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know ere long, Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong. As the shipwrecked young lady lay on the cold, rough beach, amid the dead bodies, with the hoarse roar of the ocean sounding in her ears, and the heavy, wet clouds of mist clinging about her, indifferent to life or death, the recollection of the ship being pursued by buccaneers and driven far out of her course came back to her mind, and then being caught in a hurricane and seeing another vessel battling with the tempest, and both ships furiously hurried on toward a wild, rocky coast, the vessels crashing on shore and rebounding again, and some one lifting her into a boat, and then she remembered no more. While these recollections were passing through her brain, she raised herself upon her elbow and looked around. Death everywhere, the ocean with its floating corpses and wreckage lay before her. On either hand a long broken beach, with its gloomy rocks and its scattered dead. A scene which at any other time in her life would have struck her with awe, she now gazed at quietly, and questioned "Why am I the only one left, oh, if I too could die." Turning to look behind her through the mist, she observed that the land was hilly, and in some places rose to a considerable height. The whole surface as far as she could make out was covered by a thick growth of lofty pines, mingled with spruce and other sorts of fir, among which sprung up an entanglement of various kinds of undergrowth, all these trees and shrubs growing nearly down to the sea and forming so thick a forest, that it was impossible for sight to penetrate it further than a few yards. There was no building of any kind to be seen, no sign of human habitation of either savage or civilized life. The great abundance of pine trees, and the general appearance of the forest, which strongly resembled the forests of Norway, instantly called up the question in Anna Vyvyan's mind, can it be possible that destiny has sent me back to the land of my mother's grave? A low wail like the cry of a young child in distress, caused the only hearer to start to her feet, and looking on the other side of a broken rock close by, she saw stretched out white and still, a young lady by the side of whom, in a half-standing position, and bending over her was a beautiful golden-haired little girl of between two and three years. In another instant Anna was also bending over the young mother, to whom she found the child was tied by a crimson silk sash such as were worn by military officers. The tearful little one turned up her sweet face, without any apparent fear, but with a great deal of sorrow in it, and said, in her baby language, "Mama dorn seep," then she pressed her lips upon the cold white cheek, and kissed it and stroked and patted the also beautiful mother, who lay so mute and pallid and unconscious of all her little one's gentle love. Again and again came the cry from the poor forlorn little creature, "Det up, mama, det up, mama;" but the dear mamma was beyond the reach of the sweet baby voice. Anna's first thought was to see if any sign of life remained in the slender form before her, but she could find no pulse, and the face and hands were as cold, as the rocks upon which she was lying. Miss Vyvyan unfastened the child, and drew away the long sash, which had tied her to her mother's waist. As she did so, she observed the delicately formed features, which were so regular and proportionate that they might have been chiseled in marble, to represent some Greek goddess. She saw the masses of soft brown hair, and the long dark eyelashes, which dropped upon the cheek like silken fringe. She observed, too, the simple traveling habit, made of the finest material, but perfectly free from any attempt at vulgar ornament. And as she took the child into her arms, and looked down once more on the sweet white face, which lay on the stones at her feet, and noted the refinement in everything about her, she knew that the little one's mother came of gentle blood. The child was willing to go to Anna, but not willing to be removed out of sight of its mother. So Miss Vyvyan sat down where they were with the little one in her lap, and shook out the silk sash with the idea of wrapping it round the shivering child, but that, too, was wet, every thing in the shape of clothing was wet, both on Anna and the child. All that she could do for the moment to comfort the tiny thing, was to fold it in her arms, and try by that means to keep it from perishing with cold. It had probably been shielded by some heavy woolen wrap, which was torn off by the breakers when they were cast on shore, for as Anna shook out the silk sash, there fell from it a strip of thick woolen fringe, which had the appearance of having belonged to a shawl. But now the child was bareheaded, and wore a little white dress of exceedingly fine embroidery, which also spoke of the mother's love, for none but loving hands ever wrought work so dainty as that. Round its neck was clasped a small gold chain of minute links of very fine workmanship. So thin and delicately was it made, that it resembled a thread of golden silk. Anna examined it carefully to see if she could find any letter or name upon it, but none was there, then she spoke to the child as it lay nestling its pretty head upon her arm, and still talking to its mother, and said, "Tell me, dear little one, what is your name?" The child looked up, but evidently could not understand the meaning of her words. Anna tried again by laying one of her fingers on the child's shoulder and saying, "Who's dat?" "Mama's baby," answered the little one in an instant. "Will Mama's baby tell me where papa is?" "Dorn seep," replied the child. "Tell me where dorn seep, sweet child." "Down dare," answered she, pointing to a mass of human bodies which were thrown together on the beach some distance below them, and which were constantly kept in motion by the incoming tide. Anna's desire to die no longer existed; as she held the beautiful little creature to her heart and rocked it, all her thoughts concentrated in the one question, what could she do to aid this sweet helpless one. The ideas rushed through her mind with the rapidity that they come to us in fever. It must have warmth and food, or it will perish. I cannot let it die, it is so beautiful, and I love it. I must act this moment. Rising with the child in her arms, she hastened along as rapidly as she could among the wreckage, scrambling between bales and chests of all kinds, in the hope of finding something, anything; she could not surmise what it might be, but some sustenance must be had for the child. Although hundreds of cases and bales were strewed about, they were all so securely corded and nailed up, that it was impossible to procure anything from them. At last, far in on the land, she came to a large pile of freight, which had struck so violently, that the greater number of the cases and bales, had broken in two, or had burst open. The first object that met her sight, was a broken chest full of table covers of rich cloth, evidently the product of India and Persia, as the silk embroidered borders in oriental needlework showed; happily everything was thrown in so far that it was dry. Taking one of the table covers, she wrapped it round the child, who in the midst of its discomfort showed its gentle nature by saying, "Pitty sing, pitty sing," and holding up its sweet face to kiss Anna. "Yes, mama's baby shall have more pretty things soon," said Miss Vyvyan. "Dinner," cried the child, "bing dinner, Dinah bing dinner." "Yes, darling, we must find dinner for mama's baby." "Dinah bing dinner?" again repeated the poor, hungry little thing, with an expressive look of interrogation. "Yes, dear, yes;" folding the soft woolen cover still more closely round the child, Anna placed her in a sheltered spot. "Stay there a moment, baby, while I bring dinner." From the marks on the outside of the boxes it was plain that they had come from some Mediterranean port, and contained fruits and other edibles. With a heavy stone, Anna soon broke open a small box of candied fruit, selecting some, she gave it to the half-starved child. One of the baby hands held her fruit, the other one was instantly stretched out toward the box. "Mama, tandy, too," she cried. "Mama is asleep, darling, she does not want candy." "Oh mama, tandy, too," she repeated, with an earnestness that sent a thrill through Anna's heart. "Yes; mama's baby shall take some if she wishes to." The child took a piece of the fruit, "Doe now," she said. "Go where, baby?" "Mama," answered the child, struggling among the folds of her wrap, to get on to her feet and pointing in the direction of its mother. A nature so full of love, shall not be pained or thwarted by me, mused Anna, as she carried back the child who had already become precious to her. When they reached the place where the cold white mother was lying, and Anna was in the act of putting the little one on the ground as it desired, an unusually large wave broke so close by, that the spray and foam dashed against, and flowed over the sweet pale face. The child uttered a sharp cry of distress, and disengaging itself from Anna's arms and darting to its mother, threw itself down by her side, and, clasping her neck with its tiny arms, covered with kisses the face that was so dear. The next wave will carry the mother away, Anna thought. I cannot let the child witness such a sight, it would break her loving little heart, and she also felt that she, herself, could not give up to the all-devouring ocean, the object of so much affection in the babe. Placing the little one in safety, she took up the cold, white burden in her arms, and carried it far back from the reach of the sea, putting it down on the moss, at the root of a large pine. As it lay there so lone and sad and beautiful, with the child standing by it, for the little soul had followed with its swiftest steps, Anna bent over it and kissed the face. Poor dear, she murmured in a whisper, as long as I exist, my love and my life shall be devoted to your child. She bent again and kissed the cold lips. Could it be possible that breath came lightly through them? It was,--it was,--deeper and deeper drawn and more regular each time. Merciful God, she lives, and the tears fell fast from eyes that had long been dry with grief. A faint sigh, and the partial parting of the long silken eyelashes, told that life was coming back still more and more. In a few moments she feebly uttered, "My child." "Your child is safe and with you," replied Anna, lifting the little one closer to its mother's side. "Dudley," she faltered. "He has not come yet," said Anna, surmising for whom she was inquiring, and pitying in her inmost soul the widowed heart that must so soon learn to live without him. When the poor mother opened her eyes, the scene of horror was more than her delicate organization could endure, and a violent, fit of trembling came upon her. "Tote on," said the anxious, sensitive child. The suggestion was acted upon, Anna ran to the pile of dry wreckage, and soon returned, with an armful of table covers and a box. "Tote on mama," cried the child hurriedly, as if it felt there was no time to be lost. "Yes, darling, a coat for mama," said Anna, improvising a pillow with one, and wrapping several other warm covers about the shivering mother. "Take this," said she, holding to her lips some cordial which she had poured into a mussel shell, "It is buanaba, a very delicate restorative made in Turkey, pray try to take it, it will keep you from shivering so." As we have already said, Anna possessed great vital energy, and with her to think was to act. She saw that the delicate, slender young mother and the child must both die, unless she could find some means of getting them warm. There was an abundance of dead wood close by, if she could only start the first spark of fire. Pushing her way a few yards into the forest, she brought out a quantity of dead grass and resinous wood, and continued striking two stones together until at last the spark came, and a good fire soon blazed high, and sent out its glow toward the pine tree beneath which they were lying. Some large stones were soon heated in the hot embers, and rolled to the feet of the mother. Covering was brought and held to the fire, and the lowly bed made so warm that the exhausted mother and her little one fell into a natural and refreshing sleep. In the meantime Anna was everywhere scrambling and climbing among the freight, dragging what she could not carry, searching for anything that might be appropriated as a covering against the cold, and looking after the cases of eatables with a thought for the poor, starving ones under the pine tree. It was late in the afternoon when the sleepers awoke. The mist had in a great measure cleared away, and the sunlight was straggling through the remaining clouds. A good fire was burning, and a tin of water was boiling beside it. A long box cover, supported by stones at each end, formed a table, other box lids made seats, and the table was spread with food that would at least sustain life. Heaped up under another pine tree, was a sufficient supply of both food and covering, to provide for the ladies and child for some time to come. There was no lack of tins of all shapes, so they were made use of to cook in, and for holding food. As soon as the child was thoroughly awake, it sat up in its bed, showing its sweet fair face, and smiling with happiness at finding its mother awake by its side. Taking up a cup of food made from sea moss and sweetened with the candied fruit, Anna attempted to feed the child by means of a shell, but it turned its face away, and said in tones full of distress, "Mama too, Dinah bing dinner." When Anna took hot coffee from the fire and propped up the exhausted mother and induced her to drink it, everything went well with the child. It was perfectly satisfied, and took its own food, and laughed and played with the pebbles and shells that were brought to it. "I have tried often, very often to speak to you," said the mother, addressing Anna for the first time; "I was conscious, but I could not speak; I was too weak I suppose, and now my voice has come back to me, I have no words, I do not know what I can say to you." "Will you let me suggest what you shall say," asked Anna? "It is this; say what I can do that would most help you and your lovely child; and now try to rest while I think how you can be sheltered from the night air, for night will be upon us in the course of two hours at furthest." The fog and mist had now completely disappeared, and given way to the sun, which, however, was nearing the horizon, and the trees cast long shadows on the grass. While the mother and child had been asleep in the afternoon, Anna had built up a few broken boards and stones between them and the sea, that they might not be pained on their first awaking by seeing the terrible sight which was so near. "I am better," said the mother. "I feel stronger. I cannot endure to see you doing all. I want to help you. I do not need more rest now. But tell me first, pray tell me the truth, whatever it may be. Is there any one left alive here besides ourselves. Have you seen an officer in a colonel's uniform? My husband was in the service of King James, he wore the royal uniform, when he tied my child to my waist with his sash, and lifted me into a boat. I cannot remember any more. I think I must have been stunned. How long have we been here? I seem to have lost some of the time, but I felt you take away my child, and I heard you speak tenderly to it. Have we been here too long for my husband to be living? Tell me, can it be possible that I may find him?" Anna could not add to her anguish by repeating what the child had said when questioned about its father, for she believed it had spoken truly when it answered, "Dorn seep, down dare." "I do not think we have been here longer than to-day," she replied. "I do not know exactly. It was early in the morning when our ship struck the rocks, but it was broad daylight when I came to my senses on the shore. The tide was coming in, it was very high, and now it must have been going out for nearly four hours, so I think we must have been cast on shore this morning." "Then my husband may still be alive, I must seek him." With those words, she rose to her feet, but nearly fainted with the effort. "Your child is sleeping," said Anna. "Let me support you, if you will attempt to walk. Tell me your husband's name, that I may call it aloud; these rocks are very rugged and I can send my voice into places among them, that it would be impossible to go into." "Colonel Carleton," she replied. "Lean on me, Mrs. Carleton. Shall we go down this way?" The tide had carried out the mass of floating bodies to which the child had pointed at noon, but numbers of others still remained in all directions. Tottering and staggering among the dead, Mrs. Carleton continued her search, until she had looked into every ghastly face that lay there. "Now will you call aloud for me," she said, "for I cannot, my strength is gone." Anna called, but the only sound that came back was the echo of her own voice from the forest and the heavy rolling of the sea. They returned in silence to the child, who was still asleep. The sun had nearly set, when all at once a rich, bright glow from the west rose behind the forest and flooded every object with golden light. Looking out to sea eastward, they observed only a few miles away many islands, some of them covered with forests down to the water's edge. "Where can we be," they both ejaculated at the same time. There was no habitation visible on any of them, nor any smoke rising from them. "These trees remind me of Norway," said Anna. "Do you think we can be in Norway?" "I am unable to say," replied Mrs. Carleton, "but I am sure we are in a northern clime by the growth both of trees and plants." The ladies seated themselves by the sleeping child, trying to think what it was best for them to do. There was no time for delay; it would soon be dark, and the little group of three appeared to be the only living human beings in the place, wherever that place might be. While they were talking together, they had turned their backs to the sea and were looking toward the sunset, and watching the varied rays of light which here and there penetrated through the forest on the hill before them. "I did not hear your name, Mrs. Carleton, on board the ship I sailed in from England," said Anna. "I did not come from England," she answered. "My parents settled in the colony of Virginia long ago. I was born there, that is my home. My husband as well as myself, had many relatives in England, and we were going to visit them, and intended to have our child baptized there, that its name might be registered among those of its forefathers. Sometime after we sailed, we fell in with buccaneers; but our ship, the Sir Walter Raleigh, was a fast sailor, and we got away from them; yet I was told when the hurricane came on, that they were the cause of our being out of our course, hence our calamity." "We met the same destiny," said Anna, and then she told in a few words whence she had sailed, and that her name was Vyvyan. The hill in front of the ladies, rose too high for them to see the actual setting of the sun, but the rich glow of gold and crimson now lit up the whole forest, and defined the outline of the rising ground. "What is that I see?" said Mrs. Carleton, shading her eyes with her hands. "'Tall pines' I think," answered Anna. "No, it is a tower; look, Miss Vyvyan, in that direction, see on the hill; it is a stone tower; look, now the light has changed; there are windows, many of them, see on the right the building extends a great way, it is very large." Anna looked through the wood where Mrs. Carleton directed, and saw distinctly in the rosy light of the sunset, an immense stone building, with a massive tower capable of containing many rooms, and rising to the height of two hundred feet. With the exception of the tower, the building was very irregular, and gave the impression of having been erected at different periods. It combined the characteristics of a feudal castle and a fortress. It was old and gray, but by no means a ruin, yet it had a gloomy and forbidding appearance. The ladies looked at each other and hesitated, they did not speak for a few moments; the same idea possessed the mind of each. They thought that good people would not live in such a place, amid such wild surroundings, but neither one of them would unnerve the other by saying so, for they knew in their present situation they required all the courage that they could command, in order that they might be ready to meet their uncertain fate. While they continued looking almost spellbound the child awoke, and observing their earnest gaze, added her own scrutiny to theirs. She bent her little golden head forward and saw some of the windows upon which the reflection of light glinted. "Home," she exclaimed, smiling with childish glee, "doe home," taking hold of her mother's dress to draw her in the direction of the building, which was about half-way up the hill, and only a few hundred yards from where they now stood. CHAPTER VII. The battled towers the donjon keep, The loop-hole grates where captives weep, The flanking walls that round it sweep, In yellow luster shone. * * * * * Act,--act in the living present! Heart within and God o'erhead! * * * * * Let us then be up and doing With a heart for any fate Still achieving, still pursuing Learn to labor and to wait. The ladies held a consultation, should they attempt to go to the castle and ask for shelter. How could the child, which like themselves had hitherto lived in luxury, pass a night on the beach. Beside the forest looked as if it was the resort of wolves and bears. It would be unsafe. They could not after dark remain where they were, there was no alternative, so they decided to go at once to the building. There was no path, but they held the branches aside for each other. Taking the child with them, they stumbled over the loose stones and among the briers as well as their want of strength would permit, for they were much exhausted. Mrs. Carleton was so weak that she fell several times and was severely hurt, but no murmur escaped her and she rose and struggled on again as if nothing had happened, turning, from time to time, with some word of kindness or cheer to Miss Vyvyan, who was helping the little one along. Emerging from the woods, they found themselves in a long, open space of grass, which was surrounded on all sides by the forest. The great building stood full in front of, and overshadowed them. It was a veritable feudal castle and, as we have said, grand, gloomy and forbidding to look at. The windows were far up from the ground, no entrance door was in sight, no walks or drives around it, everywhere rank grass, with here and there a tuft of golden-rod, or fall aster springing up. No smoke rising from any of the chimneys, no traces of footsteps, no sound but the sighing of the wind through the pines, and the surging of the ocean. Mrs. Carleton was first to break the silence. "If I were by myself," said she, "I should imagine I must be dreaming, but I feel the reality of our position, this is no dream. We are all alone here; this place must have been deserted long ago. Look, there is the entrance overgrown with brambles. It is best that we are alone; if we can get shelter, we need not fear molestation." She spoke calmly and cheerfully and tried to wear a smile for the sake of the two who were looking at her and listening to her words. Anna had entertained grave fears for Mrs. Carleton while they were getting up to the castle. She thought the delicate frame must give way altogether, but she now saw that her newly-made friend was as brave, as she was gentle and loving and faithful, and fear gave place to hope and resolve. As she went a few steps to gather some asters, which the child wished for, she said to herself, "This fragile, suffering, uncomplaining woman has already taught me a great lesson, and I will never seek selfish relief by adding to her overburdened life, the weight of my own sorrow. She shall always think me cheerful, whatever I may know my self to be, for nothing that I can do will be of so much help to her and the sweet child." As Anna returned, the little one stretched out her hands to receive the flowers and held up the rosy lips to give a kiss for them, which was her usual mode of acknowledging any kindness shown to her. "Miss Vyvyan," said Mrs. Carleton, "I have been looking on the other side while you have been gathering the flowers. I find there is an immense pile of ruins there, which looks as if it were the ruins of a tower. That small entrance at the north end is the only one that is open. Shall we try to get in, we can beat down the brambles." The doorway was low and arched, the stone work about it coarse and massive, the door had fallen from the upper hinge, and lay so far open that ingress was very easy. The ladies entered and passed into a broad stone passage, which was many yards in length and led to a staircase at the foot of the great tower at the south end. As they passed along the passage, they saw a number of rooms on either side, which were all in semi-darkness, being lighted only by narrow loopholes in the outer walls, yet there was sufficient light to show them that they were all well filled with what appeared to be chests, boxes and packages, but the ladies were too much fatigued to make any examination of them. They observed that the walls were all of rough stone, but there was no feeling of dampness. On reaching the staircase, Mrs. Carleton discovered some inscriptions cut deep into the wall. "What is this, Miss Vyvyan? I see it is not Greek or Latin or Hebrew. I never saw any characters like these." "They are runic," replied Anna. "I should not know what they are, only that I have seen them on old ruins in Norway. Do you think we are in Norway? This old castle is very much like buildings I have seen there." Mrs. Carleton, who was an excellent botanist, again referred to the trees and plants which they had seen as they came up from the beach. "Those fall asters," she said, "and the species of golden-rod are both of northern growth, but I cannot in the least feel sure of our whereabouts. It scarcely seems probable that we shall find the means of getting away from this place very soon, for there is no evidence of any commerce here, and as far as I can judge, nothing for merchants or traders to come for. I do not say this to dishearten you, Miss Vyvyan, but I feel it right that we should speak openly and honestly to each other." "I understand you," replied Anna, "you do not wish to fill my imagination with false hopes; it is good, and kind, and sensible, and I thank you for speaking as you have done. I feel myself that this is no time for dreaming, and I do not any longer care to indulge in it. All I care for, is to lead an earnest, true life in whatever position Fate may place me. If we are destined to remain together, you shall see." The ladies had now ascended the winding stone staircase as far as the top of the first flight from the ground. From the stairs, they stepped into a corridor with a stone floor and bare stone walls, somewhat similar to the one below, but wider and well lighted. From this corridor, branched off other passages and staircases, leading both above and below, and numberless rooms of all kinds, the doors of which were chiefly open, showing the most luxurious and costly furniture, and the richest hangings, containing chests filled with rich velvets and satins, and all other requirements of ladies' dress. Some rooms were evidently sleeping apartments, others were furnished as parlors, the walls being hung with tapestry, and adorned with rare paintings and mirrors in frames of the most exquisite workmanship, in ivory, silver and bronze. Rich carpets and rugs covered the floors. The rooms all felt dry. They had wide, open fireplaces in which stood fire dogs of brass or iron; in some of them still remained half-burned or charred logs, and the dead ashes of long years ago. The ladies remarked that, amidst all this abundance of wealth, there was a certain incongruity in the arrangement of the contents of every room. In one they found silk draperies from India, a divan from Turkey, an Italian settee in the finest Florentine carving; beside it a massive English table of heart of oak, and the light, spider-legged gilt chairs of Paris, with their faded red silk cushions, and so on. They rambled through room after room. In many of them were firearms of all dates and nations, sabers and cutlasses, daggers and swords, with pistols and guns, and powder flasks, and spears. Some of these lay upon the tables and chairs, and others hung from the walls. In all the sleeping-rooms, were numberless articles of men's dress, uniforms and costumes of various kinds, sufficient in variety to supply disguises for a whole regiment. With the exception of the number of firearms and other instruments of warfare lying about, the rooms were all in order. The reflection of the setting sun streamed in at the windows, and across the floors at the west side of the castle, and lit up the mirrors, and pictures, and beautiful and curious works of art, which hung on the walls, or stood on the shelves, or on quaint pieces of furniture, and which abounded everywhere and made the interior of the building a pleasant contrast to the gloomy-looking outside. Passing hastily through the rooms which led off the corridors, the ladies returned to the great tower at the south end. They found the door, which gave entrance to it was closed; but on Mrs. Carleton laying her hand upon the lock, it at once gave way, and they went through a vestibule, and entered a large and very handsome room. It was octagon in form, with a window in every division. The upper part of each window was made of antique painted glass, which shed red hues of crimson, gold and purple in different parts of the room, ever varying their position with the change in the sun's altitude, and giving the apartment at all times of the day, a bright, cheerful appearance. This room was furnished still more gorgeously than any of the others. The walls were hung with the richest kinds of Spanish tapestry; on a ground of dark green silk velvet, was embroidered large flowers and arabesques in gold, interspersed at intervals with the well-known representations of the three castles, which are a part of the arms of Spain. The furniture was all of chestnut, carved in the deeply cut and highly raised work, which is so rich and elaborate, and peculiar to the Spanish artists. Several curiously cut mirrors hung on the walls, and also some exceedingly delicate paintings in ivory, and, a number of choice enamels on plaques of gold. The mantel piece of stone was high and adorned with beautiful vases of Egyptian and Etruscan make, mingled with those of Rome and Herculaneum, and the more modern flower-holders of Bohemian and Venetian glass. The sofas, as well as the luxurious armchairs, were covered with green silk velvet. The window draperies were of the same, ornamented with gold fringe. The floor was made of various kinds, inlaid in mosaic work, as we see them in Italy. Soft ruby colored rugs were lying in front of the table, and before the fireplace. On one side, was a small carved bookcase containing a few volumes of novels, some of poetry and a few sacred books of the Roman Catholic creed, all of them in Spanish. In one or two of the books, the name of "Inez" was written. Across the end of one of the sofas lay a guitar of satin-wood, inlaid with mother-o'-pearl, with a Spanish lace mantilla by the side of it, and on a small table close by was an open music book containing Spanish songs. Everything gave evidence of having been left untouched for many years, the flowers in the vases had dried, and fallen bit by bit, and lay in small heaps that looked like chaff. In one corner of the room stood a tall Chinese jar, that had once contained sprays of the fragrant fir balsam, which was now little else than dust. In the wide, open fireplace on the hearth, the wood that had been carefully placed on the dogs ready to light, had become so dry, that it had crumbled away, and fallen to pieces with its own weight. The ladies felt the importance of using the remaining daylight in making some preparations for the night, so deferred any further examination of the castle until the next day. They experienced a certain feeling of safety in being alone. "Mrs. Carleton," said Miss Vyvyan, "you will not mind if I run down to the beach, and bring up some of the table covers and some food. I shall soon be back again." "I do not mind being left, but I do mind your doing it without help; I want to help you in everything, but I am not strong enough yet. We will stand by the window and watch you as far as we can." The child understood the conversation, and turning with a very earnest and inquiring look to her mother, she said, "Be back." "Yes, dear, Miss Vyvyan is coming back. That is my little one's way of saying she wishes you to return," said Mrs. Carleton. "She always says to me, if I am leaving the room, 'be back,' she means come back." "I like to hear her say it," said Anna; "it sounds so real and so pretty, and it is her own way of expressing what she desires. I hope you will always allow her to keep that little remnant of babyhood. I ask it of you as a favor." "I am only too glad, Miss Vyvyan, to do anything you wish," replied Mrs. Carleton. As Anna left the room and hastened down the tower stairs, she heard the sweet little voice calling after her, "Be back, be back." Mrs. Carleton had prepared a pleasant surprise for Anna on her return. She had taken a flint from the lock of one of the guns, and had succeeded in lighting a cheerful fire, before which the ladies spread the table covers, and slept until the light of the morning sun shone in upon them through one of the painted windows, and made brilliant hues in various parts of the room, which the child called butterflies. The little party was rested and refreshed, and awoke to be greeted by a beautiful day. As soon as they had breakfasted, they began a thorough investigation of their new abode. They descended to the basement where they had entered, and discovered in one of the rooms immense stores of provisions of all kinds, many of them in good order, for they were in sealed jars and cases. One of the down-stairs rooms was a carpenter's shop, containing tools of all sorts, which were of great use to the ladies in opening many things that it would have been impossible for them to do otherwise. There was a large store of wine, and a kitchen containing strangely shaped cooking utensils from different countries. Near the small north doorway by which the ladies entered the castle, was a narrow stone staircase, leading down under ground, but it was so dimly lighted, that they did not attempt to go down it. Ascending again to the tower, they discovered several more beautiful rooms in it, all richly furnished. All these rooms had apparently been set apart for the use of the lady, with the exception of one, a library, containing carved oak shelves, loaded with books in many different languages; the heavy furniture was also of carved oak, cushioned with old gold embossed leather. A Spanish cloak of crimson velvet was thrown across the back of one of the chairs, and upon the seat of it lay a sombrero with a plume, also a sword and a pair of gauntlets. An arched doorway in one corner of the library, led into a small watch tower, the whole size of which was filled up by a winding stone staircase. "Come, Miss Vyvyan," said Mrs. Carleton, "we will go up here, and we may, perhaps, see something that will tell us where we are." They climbed the stairs to the top, and passed through a low door on to the battlements of a great tower, whence they looked down at the pine trees, two hundred feet below. They saw at once that they were on an island; not by any means a large one, and that the whole of it was covered by forest as far as the water's edge, excepting in a few places where a bare rock or swamp intervened. They looked to the south and saw only the open ocean. The day was clear and calm, and they could see away to the horizon. To the east lay many other islands; then to the north the same sight met their eyes. Looking to the west still more islands were to be seen, and also what appeared to be the mainland, and far away, perhaps seventy miles off in the distance, a magnificent range of lofty mountains. Nothing could exceed the beauty of the scene. As they walked round the top of the tower, looking down upon all these forest-clad islands without any sign of habitation, Mrs. Carleton, turning to Anna, said, "Let us try to think over all the maps we have studied in our geography lessons." "Just what I have been trying to do," said Anna, "but I can only think of a great number of islands in the Pacific ocean, and we know we are not there, and we are not in any of the West India islands, for, as you say, the trees tell us we are in the north, and now that I see so many islands, I know we are not in Norway. But is it not strange that the runic characters are in so many places in this castle? See, here are more of them, exactly the same as I saw when we were in Norway." "Yes," replied Mrs. Carleton; "everything tells us we are in the north, and also tells us we are alone. We may have to remain here, we know not how long, perhaps years; and then, too, we have something else to consider. These trees show that the winters in this region are very severe, as do also the rents in the rocks that we clambered among on our way up to the castle. Those great fissures were all caused by the action of intense frosts, by such a degree of cold as you and I have no idea of, excepting from what we have read. In a climate like this, we know the winter sets in early, so I think, Miss Vyvyan, the only thing we can do is to prepare for it immediately as soon as we can." "I see; everything is exactly as you say," replied Anna, "and now let me ask you a favor. I am stronger physically than you are, and I beg you to allow me to undertake the heavier share of our occupation. Let me do all that requires to be done outside the castle, such as getting wood and water, and whatever we may want from the wreckage, and you take charge of the inside of our present home, in which you must allow me to help you. I understand you already, and I believe you would do everything and endure all the fatigue without a murmur, but that is impossible; you have not the strength, and you must try to be well for the sake of your dear child." Mrs. Carleton endeavored to remonstrate with Miss Vyvyan about the division of the toil, which was so new and strange to each of them, for she was born with a great generous heart that was ready and willing to do and die for others; but Anna would not listen to her sweet pleadings, although in her soul she admired them. "Bow wow," said the little one, pointing down to the forest. The ladies looked over the battlements and, to their horror, saw three wolves creeping stealthily along under the shadow of the great pines below. They thought instantly of the fallen door at the entrance, and hastened down the tower stairs as far as the room hung with green velvet tapestry, where they had passed the night, and which they decided should in future be their sitting-room, so they named it the green parlor. As they entered, the glow of the cheerful fire on the hearth, the beautiful prospect of forest and sea from the windows, and the child's butterflies, glancing here and there, gave a bright and pleasant air to the room, but the ladies felt much disturbed by the discovery of wolves so near them, and the knowledge of the open door in the passage below. "Miss Vyvyan," said Mrs. Carleton, "there are other doors of entrance to this, castle; I saw them, we will go and see if we can open one of them; and then we will close up the door below altogether." At the end of a passage leading from the tower, and not far from the green parlor, they found a massive door, strongly barred and bolted inside. They drew the bolts, and on opening it led down on the outside, by a long flight of stone stairs to the grass below, and very near to the place on which they stood on their arrival from the beach. "We shall be safe in one respect now," said Mrs. Carleton, "for no animal can break this door and we can keep it bolted." The first thing to be done now was to close up the entrance down stairs. The ladies went down and out through the door by which they had entered the castle at the north end. Quickly gathering up some of the wood which lay round about them, they set fire to it, in order to scare away any wolves which might be prowling near, and at once went to work, carrying stones from the ruins of the fallen tower, and by their joint strength replacing the door. They next piled up such a barrier of great stones behind it, that they were sure that no wolves could enter that way. They had finished their first attempt at building and were about to go up again to the green parlor, when the child with a little laugh and in its sprightly way cried out, "Kitta, kitta, see kitta." At the same instant running as fast as her tiny feet could go, after two small white kittens which the next moment disappeared down the half-dark stairs, that they had noticed when they first arrived, but were too tired to investigate at that time. They now looked down them and in the dim light, saw only a passage which led in the direction of the fallen tower. They satisfied themselves that there was no opening from that to the outside of the building, and concluded that the immense pile of ruins completely stopped up all means of ingress that way, so they decided not to go to the bottom of the gloomy staircase for mere curiosity, when time was so precious to them, for they felt as Mrs. Carleton had remarked that winter might be upon them very soon. They passed all the remainder of the day in bringing up from the beach such supplies as they most needed, and decided to devote a portion of each day to this occupation as long as the weather permitted. Before sunset they were all safe in the castle again, the child running about the room they were arranging, and delighted with the many beautiful ornaments. The ladies made up their minds to adapt themselves to their circumstances, and be as cheerful as they could, for the child's sake. They selected the tower for their residence, as it contained the best rooms in the castle, and the view from every one of them was beautiful. They could go up the watch tower and look off from the battlements, over the islands and forests, to those majestic purple mountains, whenever they desired to do so. A sleeping room next to the green parlor was chosen for Mrs. Carleton. It was fitted up with the same degree of luxury as most of the others, the furniture being of satin wood and ivory, and the hangings and drapings of the bed and windows of pink velvet and white lace. Two curiously wrought silver lamps stood on the dressing table, and showed that they had burned themselves out. In front of the mirror was a jewel casket; it was open, and showed rings and aigrettes of diamonds and emeralds. A few ruby ornaments lay on the table, and a string of pearls, also a small lace scarf and a pair of lady's gloves, embroidered on the backs with gold. The curtains and velvet draperies of the windows were completely closed, and the room looked as though some one had dressed in it and gone away and left the lamps burning. Everything was a mystery to the ladies which they could not unravel. When the day was over, Mrs. Carleton and Miss Vyvyan sat beside the sleeping child, in Mrs. Carleton's room. The fire was burning on the hearth, and the full moon poured its beams in at the windows; they had no other light. Mrs. Carleton spoke much of her bereavement, but struggled to be brave, and to resign herself to a destiny she could not alter, at the same time revealing, quite unawares to herself, a character full of intense affection, unselfishness and great courage. As Anna watched the sweet, pure face so full of emotion and sensibility, and the firelight flickered upon and lit up the refined features, her whole heart yearned toward her new friend, and her own sorrow was buried in those of the forlorn young mother. "I have been considering," said Miss Vyvyan, "about your child. Do you not think we ought to make life as bright and happy as we can for her, and we can do a great deal, although we may have to stay in exile for a long while. She need never suffer from that idea. All will depend upon the way we educate her, and the way we live." "Exactly so," replied Mrs. Carleton. "We will make our lives as good an example as possible; we will bring her up, as far as circumstances will admit, the same as we would do if she were in my old home. We cannot have the servants we have been accustomed to have, but we can make this home a systematic one, and a refined one, and we must make it a cheerful one for her sake." "There is one thing I feel very anxious about," said Mrs. Carleton; "my child has not yet been baptized. As I told you, we were going to take her to England for that purpose. I should feel happier if I could carry out my husband's wish, and be able to call her by the name he so much liked." "I can fully enter into your feelings," said Miss Vyvyan. "Why not baptize her yourself? I presume you are familiar with the service, as we have baptisms in our church so frequently." "Yes," replied Mrs. Carleton, "and I cannot see that there would be anything wrong in doing so, myself, as there is not any one else to do it." "It can no more be wrong," said Anna, "to repeat the baptismal prayers for your child, than it is to offer up your daily prayers for her. Indeed to me it seems perfectly right, as we are situated at present." "I am glad you entertain those feelings on the subject, Miss Vyvyan," replied Mrs. Carleton, "and as we are both of the English church, will you be godmother to my little one?" "You confer great happiness on me," replied Anna, "by making such a request. What do you intend to call her?" "Cora was the name my husband wished her to be called," replied Mrs. Carleton. "And I desire to add Caroline to it, as that is the name of my dear mother, and is now, alas, the only means I have of showing my affection for her, who is perhaps at this moment mourning my absence." "Will you baptize her to-morrow?" inquired Miss Vyvyan. "If you will, we can make a dress for her in the forenoon. There is an abundance of white India muslin and cashmere, too, enough I should say to dress her for years to come." "Yes," answered Mrs. Carleton, "I like that idea, and we will keep her always dressed in white." "And as to yourself," said Anna, "I ask you as a favor, to let me choose for you in this instance, I wish you always to be beautifully dressed in colors, that will look bright and cheerful. I think it will have an influence on the child's spirits and thence on her health. I do not feel that we need to have any compunction about using the things we find here, for we see that this place must have been deserted many years ago, and I cannot help thinking that all these costly things are the plunder of buccaneers." "Nothing is so probable," answered Mrs. Carleton. "Indeed, when we consider for a moment, everything seems to say so. Many of those cases which still remain unopened are such as the merchants bring to the colony of Virginia. I have seen similar ones there which came from foreign countries. It occurs to me that all these stores are the cargoes of ships that have been robbed by those desperate men who have been and still are the terror of the sea; but why they left this place so suddenly is difficult to divine, unless, perhaps, retribution fell upon them when they were out at sea on some of their marauding expeditions. Evidently a lady has lived here, too; perhaps they took her with them on their last voyage, and she also may have been lost, so I think we may feel we are not doing wrong in using such things as are necessary to our existence while we are here." The next morning the ladies were up early busying themselves with their preparations for the child's baptism. As they sat by the open window in the green parlor, making the little white dress, the sunlight falling upon the floor, the soft, warm breeze from the south coming in upon them, and the beautiful child playing about the room, prattling to herself in her baby language, and trying with her little hands to cover the colored shadows--butterflies as she called them,--and to hold them in one place, they each of them thought to themselves how much there is in life to make us happy; and yet, and yet, who can be happy when there is an empty place which nothing here can fill. They neither of them expressed what they thought, for they had each made a resolution to help the other. The sea and sky were one beautiful blue; there was just sufficient breeze to cause white caps at distant intervals, and to toss the surf lightly against the rocks. The ladies finished their sewing, and with the child went out to gather some wild flowers to adorn their parlor for the baptism. In a few minutes they saw a narrow path which they followed and found that it lead to a well of pure water only a little way off. Below this was a swamp surrounded by a luxuriant growth of asters of every hue, and white and pink spirea and golden rod, and blue iris, and the delicate, rose-colored arethusa, and the blue fringed gentian abounded on every hand; also shrubs of the bayberry, wild rose and sweet brier, with many beautiful ferns. By Mrs. Carleton's refined taste the green parlor was soon transformed into a fairy bower. The autumn sunshine sent a flood of golden light over all, and the child, dressed in its fresh white attire, was baptized, and Miss Vyvyan was its godmother. The ceremony was just over and the latter lady was still standing with the child in her arms, beside a large crystal bowl which was placed on the table and embedded in green moss and wreathed round the top with white roses. It contained the water from which the child had received the symbol of the Christian church. "Now," said Mrs. Carleton, "I wish to say to you, Miss Vyvyan, that from this day Cora belongs to both of us, to you as well as to myself; she will henceforth be _our_ child. I want you to have someone you can speak of as 'mine.' I am thankful that I never knew what it was to be without someone of my own to love, who was near to me, but I can picture to myself what a death in life such an existence must be to those who have to endure the separation, and I should feel very selfish if I did not divide my happiness with you." "I do not know how to answer you," said Miss Vyvyan. "I cannot say what I wish to. Will you grant me one more kindness; that is, let Cora always call me by my name, Anna, and you do the same. It is more than three years since anyone called me Anna; there is no one left to do so." "I will," said Mrs. Carleton, "and to you I must be Ada, for so I am named. I am glad that you are pleased at having Cora for your godchild. I thought you would be; that was a little plan of mine. I wanted to do something to make you feel happier." Gentle, loving Ada, always thinking of the good she could do to others, always self-abnegating, always giving up her own happiness that others might receive pleasure; even in the midst of grief, bereavement and exile, devising means to cheer a life that she saw was more lonely than her own--such was her character. The position in which Miss Vyvyan now stood as Cora's godmother created a sincere bond of friendship between the two ladies, which as time went on developed into a lifelong affection. They each understood and appreciated every thought and feeling of the other. The child, who was of an intense and affectionate temperament, loved both of her guardians. She confided in Anna and would stay with her for hours together, and she always demanded in her baby way that Anna should partake equally with her mother and herself of everything that she deemed pleasure and enjoyment, and if Miss Vyvyan remained long out of sight, inquiry and desire were expressed by Cora in one little sentence, "Anna be back." At the same time, with an innate and delicate discrimination, the child defined the distinction between her filial love for her mother and that given to her friend in so natural a way that neither of the ladies could ever feel slighted or wounded in the least degree. CHAPTER VIII. He who ascends to mountain tops, shall find The loftiest peak most wrapped in clouds and snow; He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Must look down on the hate of those below. Though high above the sun of glory glow, And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow Contending tempests on his naked head, And thus reward the toils which to those summits led. They had been domiciled in the castle for several days when Miss Vyvyan said, "As I am to take care of the commissariat department out of doors, Ada, I think it would be well for me to go down to the beach and bring up all the provisions I can, while we have such fine weather, as we think the winter may be very long here, so if you consider it a good plan I will fill another storeroom." "We will all go down, Anna," replied Mrs. Carleton. "We have been here five days now, and I hope the tide may have removed much that was distressing to see there." When the ladies reached the beach it was as Mrs. Carleton had supposed, all the corpses had floated away, but the whole beach and the shore far up from the sea was still strewn with wreckage. They worked very diligently, making piles of many things that might be useful, little Cora trotting about as busily as her companions, and helping as far as she knew how. It was scarcely ten o'clock, but the ladies had been out in the sun for some time lifting and carrying heavy burdens, an occupation which was as fatiguing to them as it was novel. So that they might rest a little while, and get all the sea breeze that there was on that still day, they went out on to a mass of high rocks, which projected into the ocean and formed a cove on each side. Scarcely had they seated themselves, when they saw a gentleman climbing up from one of the coves below and coming toward them. He was a young man perhaps twenty-seven years of age. As he approached them, they noticed that his appearance was that of a gentleman of rank, his every movement was full of grace and high breeding, his figure was slender and under the middle size, and his face exceedingly handsome and refined. His bright chestnut colored hair was long and fell in waving masses on his shoulders. He wore a small beard of the same hue, his dress was very rich and elaborate, after the fashion of the time, and when he spoke, his voice and courtly manner, told that he was what his appearance indicated. As soon as he came near to them, he bowed low, and made a gesture with one hand, as if raising his hat, but he was bareheaded. "Ladies," he began, "pardon me for intruding upon you, but for the love of heaven give me a cup of water, it is many days since I moistened my lips, I have been shipwrecked on your coast." The ladies were on their feet in an instant. Mrs. Carleton running to a birch tree a few yards back from the beach, and breaking off a piece of bark, deftly bent it into a cup, which she handed to Miss Vyvyan to fill from the same pond that had supplied them with water the first day they were thrown upon the island. Refreshed by the draught the stranger tried to thank them, but speech and strength failed him, and tottering a few paces toward the land, he fell down insensible beside a fissure in one of the rocks. The ladies went to him. "His hands are as cold as if he were dead, Ada," said Miss Vyvyan. "What will it be best to do?" "What did you do for me, when you first tried to help me?" replied Mrs. Carleton. "I tried to get you warm." "Well, then, we must do that." At these words, they simultaneously took off the outside wraps they wore, and laid them over him, and hastened about among the wreckage, until they had a good supply of warm rugs and coverings. "Where did you get those hot stones that you placed at my feet," said Mrs. Carleton? "I made a fire and heated them." Then we will make a fire and do the same thing. They covered the poor fellow over, and put hot stones to his feet, and he seemed to be sleeping. In the meantime they prepared some light food for him. They sat in silence near by, waiting to see what they could do, should he return to consciousness. They observed the color coming back to his face, and a bright pink spot burned on each cheek. "I fear," said Mrs. Carleton, "fever is setting in. I will make something with the fruit we brought down, that will quench his thirst." The child seemed to echo the thoughts of her companions, seeing them anxiously engaged in ministering to the sufferer. She began gathering up anything that she thought pretty, and laid it by his side. Presently she went to him with a few wild flowers, which she had picked from the crevices of the rocks and among the shore grass close by. She observed the ladies spoke in low tones to each other and moved about very quietly. She knew there was some cause for this, for, young as she was, she had already an idea of illness and suffering, and her little heart was full of pity for others. She stood looking at him as he lay asleep before her, waiting with her wild flowers, until the time should come for her to give them to him. "Poorest, poorest," she repeated, at the same time stroking his hair with her baby hand. That was her own word, and her own way of showing sympathy and pity. The little one's vocabulary was, at this period of her life, very limited, but equally significant of all that she saw and felt. She possessed no extraneous babble. The only words she was capable of uttering came from her heart; hence they fell upon her hearers with all the beauty and strength of truth. "Poorest, poorest," she again repeated; "dorn seep; papa dorn seep, too." At the child's last sentence, a shudder quivered through Mrs. Carleton's frame, and a still whiter shade passed over the already pale face. She clasped her little one close to her and bowed down upon its head. She did not utter a sound. Her silence said more than any words could have done, for hers was a sorrow that had no speech. After a restful sleep, the young man awoke, and sitting up among the many rugs and coverings by which he was surrounded, he looked about in every direction, and appeared to be endeavoring to realize his true position. He saw the high tower of the castle rising so near to him among the trees; he saw the ladies and the child, but he did not feel quite sure of the truth of all he saw until Mrs. Carleton put a cup into his hand and said, "This is a fever drink; will you take some? I have just made it from fruit, the same as we make it in Virginia." "Thank you," he said. "I know what it is. I am a Virginian. I sailed from that colony in the ship Sir Walter Raleigh. Who has been so kind as to bring me all these rugs," he continued. "We did," replied Mrs. Carleton, looking in the direction of Miss Vyvyan, who with the child stood near them. "What, with your own hands? I regret to have caused you so much trouble; although I am grateful to you in the extreme, I would have preferred you to have given orders to some of your servants. It is not seemly that ladies such you are should wait upon me; it is not consistent with the chivalry of a gentleman." "I understand your feelings on this subject," said Mrs. Carleton, "for I, too, am a Virginian; but we have no servants now, and my friend and I are glad that we can be useful. It is five days since your ship was wrecked, therefore we know that you must have suffered greatly. Pray do not be disturbed by seeing us doing what little we can to save you from perishing; let me assure you that we are very happy to do our utmost." The young man bowed, his cheeks still wore the bright flush of fever which heightened the intensity of his soft brown eyes, that beamed with gratitude. "Do you say that you are a Virginian?" he inquired, addressing Mrs. Carleton. "Yes," she answered; "we were in the Sir Walter Raleigh, too; that is to say, my husband and child with myself, but I never saw any of the passengers. I remained in my cabin all the time we were at sea." "I recollect you, now," he said. "I saw Colonel Carleton lift you and your child into a boat when our ship went ashore." "Were you acquainted with Colonel Carleton?" she inquired. "He was my husband." "We were not acquainted until we met on board, but during the several weeks we were at sea we passed all the time together. You say he _was_ your husband. Is it possible that generous-hearted man is lost?" Mrs. Carleton made an inclination with her head. "Forgive me," he said, "my conversation has caused you pain." "Please continue," she replied, "tell me all you know about him." "I witnessed many of his acts of kindness during our voyage, and received kindness from him at what I suppose was the last moment of his life. The boat you were in was full and I urged him to get into another one, but he refused, saying, 'I can swim and you cannot.' At the same moment he took hold of me and dropped me into the boat as easily as if I were a child. You know how tall and powerful he was. The next instant your boat was capsized and I saw Colonel Carleton leap into the sea and swim toward you. His hand was almost upon your arm, when an enormous wave swept him out of sight. The same wave capsized our boat, and the next one threw me into the cove below. I might have got away before, but part of a broken mast lay across my chest and I was entangled hand and foot by the rigging. I could neither move nor call aloud. I heard voices more than once, the voices of ladies. I believe it was your voice and that of your friend, for I never knew my ear to deceive me. I saw corpses lying all around me. The tide took them away and brought them back again many times while I was there. All one night a dead hand lay across my throat, but I could not disengage my hands to remove it. I had no fever; I was conscious of everything. The tide was higher than usual this morning. It lifted the mast and I crawled from under it." He appeared to suffer much from exhaustion and lay down again upon the rugs, and closing his eyes remained silent. After a little rest, he again sat up and resumed his conversation with Mrs. Carleton. "I have a great love of music," he began. "I left the colony of Virginia with the intention of going to London, to perfect my study of that divine art, under the direction of Orlando Gibbons. He is very young to be a composer, but he is already of much renown." For some time he continued to speak fluently on the subject of music, a subject of which the ladies perceived he was a complete master. As he talked, he became full of enthusiasm, and that wondrous light which belongs to genius alone illumined his beautiful, eyes and his whole soul spoke through them. "Ah, my madrigals," said he, "they will yet be sung to His Majesty, King James. My symphonies I shall submit to Orlando Gibbons, then I shall hear them played by a full orchestra, the world will hear, then justice will be accorded to me, the great masters will be my judges, genius such as theirs allows them to be generous and true in their opinions of other men. They will see me as I am. They will not condemn what they cannot understand. They will not call my life useless, because my tastes, my talents and my whole being compel me to be different from those among whom I live. I cannot help it, and I would not if I could." An expression of mental pain passed over his face as he thus proceeded. "Why did my uncle call my life and my work useless? It is hard to be misunderstood. If I can create out of my own brain something that is pure and beautiful, that gives happiness, that draws coarse natures away from their coarseness, to feelings more elevated, that can bring to some an ecstasy of delight, to others a sweet calm. If I follow a pursuit which injures no human being, no living creature, why am I to endure displeasure? Is it more manly, more noble to hunt the poor, panting deer till it falls gasping on the ground, and then to save its life for the purpose of chasing it again for sport? Is it more noble to ride races till the horses drop down dead? Tell me, do such pursuits elevate or brutalize?" Taking a roll of paper from his breast, he handed it to Mrs. Carleton, saying, "I have a symphony here which I composed since I left my home; would you like to look at it? I wish my twin brother Ronald could see this; he understands me, and he will understand my music, although since his accident, his hand can no longer obey his will; yet he will read my symphony, aye, more, he will play it in his soul. With it you will find a song also, the words and music are both mine; when you have read it, will you hand it to your friend?" Mrs. Carleton took the roll of music into her hand, but observing that the writing was almost obliterated from having been so long wet with sea water, she passed it to Miss Vyvyan, who sat a little farther off, desiring to spare him the pain of seeing that his composition was destroyed. The many pages of music were entirely illegible, with the exception of part of the refrain of the song, the words of which ran thus:-- Bury me deep, Where the surges sweep, And the heaving billows moan. At the bottom was the name "Ralph." The following part of the signature was destroyed. As Anna read over the words of the song, she could not help feeling that they might be prophetic of what was very near. She folded the paper together and returned it to him. "Is that your signature?" she asked. "Yes, that is my name," he replied. "Do you like music," he continued. "I do," she said. "How much do you like it?" "I like it to such a degree," she replied, "that I think life is not life without music." "Ah, that is what I think," he said. "But I am exhausted. Ladies, will you pardon me if I sleep a little while? I want to get back my strength, that I may be able to wait upon you both, and make all the return in my power for your great kindness to me." He soon fell into a restless, broken sleep, constantly murmuring to himself incoherently. "Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, "he is very ill, and it is almost sunset, and quite impossible for us to take him up to the castle. We must make some shelter here for him; the breeze already comes in from the sea much cooler, and the night will be cold." The ladies picked up loose stones and planks and everything they could move, and formed a low wall around him, making a place of shelter as large as a small room. They then drew up a portion of a sail and laid it partially across for a roof. He still slept, but as they looked at him, they saw the fever was rapidly increasing; a still brighter flush was on his cheeks; his lips were parched, and his breathing distressingly short and oppressed. "What can we do?" said Mrs. Carleton. "See there, Anna! The sun has gone behind the hill to the west of the castle; it will soon be dark. It would be terrible to leave him here to perish, for he needs great care, beside the wolves may come, and he is too ill to defend himself. Do tell me what you think it best to do?" "One of us must watch by him to-night, Ada," replied Miss Vyvyan, "and if he should be better to-morrow, we may be able to get him up to the castle. I must be the one to watch. Little Cora could not pass the night without you, and even if she could, you are not well enough yet to be out in the night air. Let me go up and get a few things such as he may require. I will be back very quickly." When Miss Vyvyan entered the castle, the sun had set, and a dull gray hue had settled upon every room. How dreary for poor Ada, she thought to herself, here almost alone, with the death of her husband so recent, and so vividly brought before her to-day. She at once thought of kindling a fire as the only means she had of taking away some of the gloominess of the place. She did so, and then spread a supper table as temptingly as she could with the only food they had at command, and hastened back again to the beach. "He still sleeps," said Mrs. Carleton, "but his fever is very high. It distresses me to leave you here, Anna, and I would not, but for little Cora's sake." "I understand you," replied Anna; "I shall always understand you. We are not mistresses of our own destiny; we have to do what we can, not what we wish. I know all that you would do if you could." As Mrs. Carleton took the child in her arms and turned her steps toward the castle, the moon rose slowly from the sea and made a long, golden, glimmering path from the horizon to the shore. It was the harvest moon, which was almost at the full. The night was light and still, with the exception of the sound of the waves, which broke upon the beach below in one long, continuous moan. Anna watched beside her charge, sometimes moistening his parched lips, sometimes arranging his improvised pillow, and listening to every sound both near and distant, with that quick, discriminating sense of hearing which we acquire from watching over those we love, and which she had learned during the last illness of her mother. The night was now far advanced. Close beside her came the quick, hard breathing, and the indistinct murmuring of the sufferer. From down below, still arose the mournful tones of the heavily rolling waves, and from the forest came the howling of the wolves, but she could hear they were not near; and resolved if they should approach to scare them away, by setting light to a pile of wood which Mrs. Carleton had laid together for that purpose. As she sat there on the ground and realized her situation, a feeling almost of terror came over her. During the past few years, she had gone through the discipline of a long lifetime. This night, the past and present seemed to combine to crush out the remnant of courage that had been left to her. She buried her face in her hands and rocked to and fro, struggling with her feeling, struggling with destiny, and struggling to call back some of her former self; that as her day, so her strength might be. At that moment, Ralph awoke; he turned his face on his pillow, and regarding her with great earnestness, he said, "Where is Ronald, my brother? I want him here now." Anna went nearer to him and, looking at the flushed face and the brilliant, restless eyes, saw that he was delirious. "Ronald," he repeated. "Are you there?" "Perhaps he is near you," said Anna, wishing to solace him. "That is well," he answered. "I will play my new composition to him." He immediately began to move his hands over the rugs which covered him, as if he were playing the organ. "Ah," said he, "that is the chord I sought,--thank heaven.--Listen to this.--Hark, hear this resolution. Now do you see what that chord leads up to?--How is that harmonic progression?--How does this sound?--I shall have a double suspension there.--Ah, that is good.--Hark; now can you hear the melody running through the minor?--Yes, the violoncellos come in there,--so it must be.--More ink; quick, quick,--there is so much to write and so little time." He sank down again, exhausted, and fell into a deep sleep. After an hour he again awoke, the flush had left his cheek; he was very calm, and had perfectly regained his senses. "I have been dreaming of my brother Ronald," he said. "I thought he was here. Can you tell me what time it is?" "I think," replied Anna, "by the position of the moon, it must be an hour past midnight." "I have been ill," he said, "but I feel better, much better; almost well again. I want to thank you ladies for so much kind care of me; both Mrs. Carleton and you, but I do not know what to call you. I did not hear your name." "I do not wish you to thank me now," said Anna, "because you are too weak to talk at present, but I will tell you my name. It is Anna Vyvyan." "Vyvyan," he repeated. "I know that name; I will tell you all about it to-morrow--I feel faint.--There is a great oppression at my heart.--Those timbers crushed my chest.--I cannot breathe.--Raise me up." Anna knelt on the ground beside him and raised him up as he desired. "Yes," he said, "tired, tired." The next moment a wonderful far-away look of rapture came over his beautiful face, and then a pale shadow such as might be caused by the passing flight of a bird;--his head fell upon her shoulder;--he was dead. Anna laid his lifeless body gently down and watched beside it through the silent hours of the night, gazing from time to time at the finely-formed features. They had a fascination for her, and she could not dispossess her mind of the thought that she had seen them before. The first few streaks of dawn came creeping over land and sea, and the sun arose and shed a shimmering light on the surrounding islands, the forest and the misty mountain tops. With daylight, the howling of the wolves ceased, and the only signs of life were the sea gulls that floated about near the shore or ran screaming along the beach devouring their prey, and a pair of eagles which constantly hovered near and swooped down close to where the dead man was lying. Anna covered the cold, pale face and went nearer to protect it from any attack. The sun had not long risen when Mrs. Carleton with little Cora left the castle. Anna heard their voices, and went to meet them. "I must be careful how I speak," she said, addressing Mrs. Carleton, "for I feel sure Cora understands much more than she can find language to express, but I have to tell you that ever since about an hour after midnight I have been all alone. He sleeps." The ladies gave the child some shells to play with, and went to where his body lay. They drew the sail over the low wall which they had made around him and completely covered in the little room. "That will keep any eagles or wolves away while daylight lasts," said Mrs. Carleton, "but we must bury the poor fellow's body before night. The thought of having it devoured or mutilated when it is in our power to prevent it, is more than either of us could bear, for in addition to the forlorn state that we found him in, his genius and his gentle breeding made both of us take an interest in him. Beside, his being a Virginian, and the last person to speak with Dudley, gave him a claim on my friendship." They went up to the castle and did not return until just before sunset, when they brought with them many beautiful wild flowers, which, as we have said, abounded on the island. They also gathered branches of the fragrant fir balsam, with which they lined the fissure in the rock on which Ralph's body was lying. Folding around the latter a robe of rich brocade, they lowered it tenderly into the tomb that nature had wrought. As Anna laid the face cloth over the marble features, she started back. The resemblance which had attracted and held her attention during the night, had come out vividly since the morning. The likeness was to her own mother, and was as marked as if Ralph had been her son. They covered his silken winding-sheet with flowers until the sepulchre was filled, then they laid flat stones across his resting place, and began to build a cairn over all. They continued building until the sun went down, little Cora bringing stones in her baby hands and placing them with the same precision that she saw her mother and Miss Vyvyan were doing. "We have made everything secure now, Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, "but we will come again to-morrow and add more stones to the cairn, and every time we come to the beach we will do the same. Will you take charge of the manuscript? We do not know what the future may bring. He wished his brother Ronald to see it, and we may, perhaps, some day have it in our power to carry out his wish. Now we will go back to the castle, for I see you are in great need of rest." CHAPTER IX. Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Misprising what they look on . . . . . to her All matter else seems weak; she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-endeared. The maple leaves had turned from rose and crimson to orange, then to pale yellow and to brown, and had fallen to the earth, for it was now almost Christmas, but no snow was as yet on the ground. The ladies had made all the rooms which they occupied in the tower very comfortable and homelike, although they could neither of them bring themselves to speak of the place by the name of home, for that was a sacred word to both of them. They always spoke of their dwelling-place as the castle. We have already said that the views from every room in the tower were of exceeding loveliness. Most of the windows overlooked the islands, many of which were far away, others perhaps only two or three miles off. At one time, their beauty would be softened and half obscured by mist, at another they would appear to be lifted up into the sky by the effect of the mirage. At times a heavy sea fog hung over the island and obscured every distant object, and to the nearer ones gave a weird and spectral look. Just at daylight one morning, when the fog was coming in from the ocean, the ladies were awakened by the lowing of cattle. On looking down from the tower windows, they saw some cows come out from under the trees and pass along close to the walls of the building. They scarcely had time to express their surprise to each other, before it was much heightened by the appearance of a woman, who followed the animals out of the forest and drove them quickly across the grass which had formerly been the courtyard of the castle, to a high mound a little way to the north of it, there both she and the cattle disappeared in the fog and among a thick growth of spruces. The woman's movements were quick and firm, and she stepped as one who not only possessed determination, but defiance also. She was tall and gaunt and bony, possibly not fifty years old, but her hair which hung loose in disheveled entanglement, was as white as if she were eighty. She had large black eyes that flashed upon every object that she looked at. She wore a red dress, which reached only a little below her knees. On her feet she had a pair of heavy, high boots, such as are worn by cavalry soldiers. Her head was partially covered by an old cotton handkerchief which had once been of many bright colors. "Did you hear what language she spoke," said Miss Vyvyan? "I caught the sound of a few words somewhat like Italian, but it was not Italian." "I heard it," replied Mrs. Carleton. "I believe it was Spanish, but she passed so quickly I could not hear distinctly, or I should have understood her." All that day the ladies remained in doors. They watched in the direction of the mound, but nothing was to be seen which would lead them to suppose that any dwelling was near to them; and so the time passed until night covered the island with darkness. They had put little Cora to bed, and were, according to their usual habit, sitting beside her in Mrs. Carleton's room. The night was unusually cold. It seemed as if winter had really sent in its heralds in advance, to announce its near approach. The wind howled and shrieked through the rooms which surrounded them up stairs, and groaned and roared in the many passages and apartments down below. Their glowing log fire was so acceptable to them, that they were loath to leave it, and so they sat talking together until midnight. They had gained a very good idea of time by observing the sun and moon, and were also greatly aided by the ebb and flow of the tide. They knew exactly the high-water mark, by certain rocks; they knew that it took so many hours to ebb and so many to flow, and they had become so familiar with the sound of the outgoing and incoming tide, that even in the darkness of night, they did not feel at a loss. "It is past midnight, Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, going to one of the windows and leaning out to listen, "The tide has just turned. Come here," she continued. "What is that rising above the mound?" "Sparks of fire and wood smoke," replied Miss Vyvyan. "There must be a dwelling of some kind there. That is probably where the woman went to with the cows, but it is strange that we have never seen anything of it before to-night." The intense cold of the next day warned the ladies that they must use dispatch in finishing their arrangements, in order to be able to meet the exigencies that a severe winter night might bring upon them. During the two months they had been living in the castle, they had employed themselves continually in bringing in supplies of all kinds, until they felt they had ample stores to last them for a very long time, but they were all in the rooms down stairs; and as the distance from the tower was so great, and the weather so severe, they decided to make a storeroom up stairs, on the same floor as that on which they lived. They had been busy for some time, packing and carrying up their requirements, little Cora, as usual, just as active as themselves, taking up her loads and returning for more; her tiny feet pattering up and down the long, stone staircase, flitting back and forth between her mother and Anna, with her own peculiar, light, swift, graceful movement, which was like that of a bird. All at once, they each missed the return of the child; but as the ladies were in separate parts of the castle, they each of them thought she had remained with the other. After some time had elapsed, they began to feel anxious, and each sought the other. Meeting on the stairs, the question "Where is Cora?" came from the lips of each of them at the same moment; then a hurried explanation, and a terrible feeling of horror. They ran in every direction, calling her name. They separated and went different ways; they met again and went in search of her together. Could it be possible that she had gone up the watch tower, and fallen from the battlements. They flew up the tower stairs and looked over. They rushed down again and out into the court yard; no sound, no sign of the child. In the agony of their distress, they went into every room and opened every great chest, every large piece of furniture. "Oh Anna," cried Mrs. Carleton, "that woman we saw, do you think she has stolen my child; perhaps put her to death. We must go to the mound where we saw her go." They followed the tracks of the cattle, and pushed their way through the trees for a short distance, till they came to the almost bare mound; it was high and long; near the base was an opening of irregular shape, which was evidently the entrance, but it was partly closed by an old, broken door. They had gone within a few feet of it, when the door was violently thrown down, and the gaunt woman in the same strange dress stood in the doorway, brandishing a rusty sword at them, and speaking rapidly in a peculiarly harsh and high pitched voice. She spoke in Spanish, which Mrs. Carleton perfectly understood, and which she, also, spoke fluently. "Go hence," said the woman. "What seek you here? I am Louisita, and all that you see here is mine; my land, my trees, my seashore; hence I say, away with you, or this sword pierces the heart of both." "Pray, hear me one moment," pleaded Mrs. Carleton, "I am in the greatest distress." "What care I for your distress, have I not enough of my own without listening to yours? Off with you." "Only a few words," again entreated Mrs. Carleton. "I want to--" "You may want, I heed that not. I want myself; I have nothing to give you. I would not give you anything, if I had it. You are intruders on this island. I saw you arrive, and the men you brought with you. Ha! ha! You meant them to land here. Where are they now? I saw it all, ha! ha! ha! You may wait for their return; they have made a long voyage, so long that they will never come back; glad, glad, I hate the accursed sex, they caused all my suffering; twenty years entombed here, through their state of mad intoxication. If only one of that great band of pirates had remained sober, I might have got away." "Do let me ask you, have you seen my child?" said Mrs. Carleton. "I entreat you to tell me." "See your child. I saw you take food to one of the accursed sex. I saw you try to make him live. I despise you for it. Why should he live to drink, drink, and bring misery on me and all women? I tell you again I hate them for their love of drink. I hold them in contempt for their weakness. The ocean did well to swallow them down, just as their brothers swallowed down the fiery drink on that fearful night when the great tower fell and crushed a hundred of them." "Do, I implore you, say if my child strayed anywhere in your sight?" cried Mrs. Carleton, overcome with anguish. "We have lost her." "Lost her; lost her; seen her;" echoed Louisita very slowly, and making a long pause as if to collect her thoughts, she added, "The child was young and the wolf was hungry." As Mrs. Carleton translated the last sentence to Miss Vyvyan, she fell fainting into Anna's arms. "Do not heed what she says, dear Ada; let us believe the best until we know the worst. Cora may have fallen asleep in some of the nooks in the building, and so did not hear us call her." The ladies returned to the castle. Miss Vyvyan was also under the most intense apprehension, but she concealed her feelings from Mrs. Carleton. "Which room were you in, Ada, when you missed Cora? She may, as I said, be asleep, and perhaps she is among some of the bales in one of the storerooms." "I was down at the end of the passage," replied Mrs. Carleton, "in the largest room. We will go there first." They went down and searched the room, but could not find Cora. As they came out of it they heard a sound which seemed to come from under ground. They ran to the half-dark stairway which they had seen when they blocked up the north door. The sound was more distinct; it was Cora's voice in conversation. Who could have taken her down to that subterranean place? They did not hesitate an instant, but descended the stairs as quickly as the darkness would admit, and found themselves in a dungeon where there was just sufficient light to see that an uncovered well was close beside the path which they were following. The talking had ceased. The silence was profound and added still greater gloom to the place. They both stood bending over the well and looking down into the depth of water which was black and silent. They each looked at the other. They read the thoughts which passed through each other's mind. They neither of them spoke. They did not dare to. While they still stood bending over the well, straining both eyes and ears to the utmost, little Cora's voice came again. It seemed close to them; they could not distinguish any words, but the tones were those of her usual pretty baby prattle. Was that voice from the spirit land? They could see nothing but the gray stone walls of the dungeon, the dark, open well and some large, loose stones, which had heavy iron chains with rings attached to them, and which had in former years been fastened to the ankles of the prisoners and worn by them till death relieved them of their burden. Just in the same way as many of the poor victims of imperial tyranny are to-day doomed to drag their chains and weights while they labor in the mines of Siberia. Again came Cora's voice as if from the further corner of the dungeon. The ladies stumbled among the loose stones in the semi-darkness, Anna, who was more robust and the taller of the two, folding her arms around Mrs. Carleton to support her, and both of them feeling their way lest they should fall into any other well or excavation. Arrived at the corner they saw a gleam of light, which came in a slanting direction through a large hole in the wall. They still heard the little voice and determined to follow it. The hole would only admit of their crawling in on their hands and knees. This they did for several yards, until everything was in complete darkness, and they found they were against a wall straight in front of them, and could go no further. The passage was too narrow for them to turn round and come out, the top of it was so low it nearly touched their heads as they crawled along. The air was oppressive, and suffocation almost overpowered them, but they could still hear the voice which seemed nearer. Feeling the walls carefully with their hands, they found that a sharp turn to the right, led along in a direct line toward the sound. This passage was also dark, and as narrow almost as a coffin. They continued crawling for several yards more, sometime cutting their arms with the broken stones which covered the bottom, and sometimes placing one of their hands upon some cold substance which moved and felt as if it might be a lizard or a sleeping snake. They neither called nor spoke, for they feared someone might have the child, who would run away with her, if warned of their approach, so they determined to come upon them suddenly. They were greatly exhausted, but they struggled on. At length daylight appeared at the end of the subterranean passage, and in another moment they emerged from it and stood in a large stone hall, amply lighted from above by open iron gratings and loopholes in the walls; through one of the latter, a bright gleam of light fell like a halo upon the sweet, fair face and the golden head of the child, who was sitting on the floor, with a portion of her little white dress folded around a kitten, which she was rocking in her arms and talking to. Happy as was her wont and all unconscious of the flight of time and the anxiety that she had caused, she seemed to have made some little exploration of her own since she had been there and wanted to show her discovery, just the same as Mrs. Carleton and Miss Vyvyan were always doing to one another. "Come," said she, getting up from the floor and taking her mother's hand, "funny sing down dare; Anna too," she continued, and stretching out her other hand, she caught hold of the folds of Miss Vyvyan's dress, and drew her along also, leading them both across the hall to a large gate of iron bars. It was locked, and closed the entrance to a broad stone passage. "Down dare, funny sing," she went on, pointing to a skeleton, which lay just inside, and so near to the gate that one hand had been thrust out between the bars and the bones of it were lying close to their feet. A great quantity of long black hair still remained about the skull, in the midst of which was a Mexican ear-ring of elaborate workmanship. Everything told them that the skeleton was that of a woman. Glancing round the hall, the ladies could not see any door. How did Cora get there? Before they had time to inquire, little Cora saw something inside the gate, and with her usual quick movement, she swiftly passed her tiny hand between the closely placed iron bars and from a small heap of débris of finger bones, drew out a richly chased gold ring, inscribed with the name of "Inez;" set in it was a large ruby in the form of a heart. The child who possessed as part of her inheritance a fine, sensitive instinct, looking at her mother, observed that her long silken eyelashes were wet with tears, and that traces of recent mental agony lingered on her face. In an instant, the dear little soul strove to comfort and cheer, after the manner so often employed by each of her guardians toward herself. Holding up the ring in one hand, and clinging round her mother with the other, she said, "See, mama, Cora dot pitty sing for mama. Don't ky, don't ky, Cora loves mama." "Sweet child," exclaimed Anna, taking her up into her arms and holding her to her heart. "Sweet child, more precious to us every day, for each one reveals some new beauty of character, some still more lovable trait. Come, dear Ada, come away," she continued. "I will carry Cora. How did my little godchild come here?" she said, addressing the little one in her arms. "Kitta doe," answered Cora. "Yes darling, where did kitta go?" "By dare," said the child, pointing to a massive column, one side of which was built close to the wall and had the appearance of being placed there as a support, but was in reality to conceal a doorway which led to a flight of stairs between two walls. The ladies went up, Miss Vyvyan carrying Cora. They soon found themselves in one of the rooms which was nearly filled with firearms and other implements of warfare. The entrance to it at the top of the stairs was concealed in the same manner as the doorway below, and but for Cora following the little white kitten, the ladies might have lived many years in the castle and never have seen it. The subterranean passage into which they accidentally crawled, had been made for a place of concealment in case of a sudden attack upon the castle. CHAPTER X. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset was seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved and forever grew still. * * * * * And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! Christmas had come and gone, and the snow was lying deep on the ground. They had seen nothing of Louisita since the day Cora was lost. "I wonder," said Mrs. Carleton, "how that poor woman, Louisita, exists? for I think from what I saw the day we went to her, that she is all alone, and if you recollect, she said something to that effect. I fear she suffers in this cold weather. You saw, of course, that it was no kind of a house that she came out of." "Yes," replied Miss Vyvyan, "it appeared to be only a mound of earth." "I want to take her some food," continued Mrs. Carleton. "Do you think we can get there through the snow?" "I can carry Cora," replied Miss Vyvyan, "if you can take the food." Mrs. Carleton filled a box with both food and fruit, and the ladies, with little Cora, went forth to visit Louisita. She met them in the same manner as before, not allowing them to come very near to the opening, and brandishing the old sword. "If that child were one of the accursed sex," she said, with a malicious look, "I would sever its head from its body." The child could not, of course, understand her language, but she read the look, and clasping her arms closely around Anna's neck, she buried her face on her shoulder. "Will you accept of this?" said Mrs. Carleton, speaking very gently, and at the same time lifting the lid of the box. Louisita sprang at the contents as a famished tigress might have sprung upon some long-sought prey. Jerking the box out of Mrs. Carleton's hands, she put it on the ground, and again raised her sword. "Hence," she cried, "all of you; no one enters here. Ha, what do I see; stop, stop," she screamed. "Donna Inez, my lady, Donna Inez. Where did you get that ring," she continued, pointing to Mrs. Carleton's finger, on which she wore the ring that Cora had found. "That is the ring Donna Inez wore the night they murdered her. Yes, the accursed sex murdered her, the night they drank out of the skulls till they were all mad, mad, and the great tower fell upon them; ha, ha, ha. Who will drink out of their skulls when they find them? More of the accursed sex, they who make laws to command women, and who cannot command themselves. Away with you. I tell you to go, you are intruders." "I fear your dress is not warm enough," said Mrs. Carleton. "You must suffer from the cold." "Suffer," shrieked Louisita, "I have known nothing else than suffering for twenty winters and summers, and they the accursed sex caused it all by their passion for the fiery cup; it soddened their brains; it poisoned every good feeling in their hearts. It buried my husband under the ruins of the tower; it bereft me of my home; it caused my two babes to die of cold and hunger in this tomb." "Poor Louisita," said Mrs. Carleton, "if you will come back with us to the castle I will find some warm dresses and other comforts for you." "Never," she replied; "it is haunted. I have not been into it since I came away with my babes the morning after the tower fell." "Why do you think it is haunted?" asked Mrs. Carleton. "I know it is because I hear them shrieking in the night, and I hear Donna Inez calling, 'Open the gate'." "I will not ask you to come inside, Louisita, but if you will only come up the outside steps to the door I will get you anything you wish for." "I want food; I want warm clothes; I want something to cover my bed." "You shall have it," said Mrs. Carleton. "I feel very sorry for you; I wish to make you happy." "Ha! ha! happy," she repeated. Then looking toward Miss Vyvyan she continued, "Make her take that child out of my sight. She brings it here to mock me. I will run my sword through her heart if ever she brings that child here again." "She does not bring my child here to mock you, Louisita. She is my friend, and loves my child, and we could not leave it alone. My friend always goes where I go, for fear anything might befall me. She cannot speak Spanish or she would explain all to you." "Go away with you," said Louisita; "go get the things for me. I will come for them when I am ready, but I will not put my foot over the door sill." "All things considered, Ada," said Miss Vyvyan, "I think it is well that Louisita is afraid to go into the castle, for she appears to be of a spiteful nature, and might try to do Cora some harm, but we will never again let the child be out of sight." Mrs. Carleton prepared for Louisita's arrival by placing a number of things of all kinds in the hall near to the entrance which the ladies used. In a little while she came, still in the same short red gown and cavalry boots, bearing the old sword in her hand. "Where are my things?" she demanded of Mrs. Carleton, speaking in the same defiant tone as usual. "Bring them here to the door. I told you I would not enter. That belonged to Donna Inez," she said, taking up a dress, "and that was Don Alphonzo's," seizing hold of the red velvet cloak which the ladies had found in the library. "Wrap the cloak about your shoulders, Louisita," said Mrs. Carleton; "it will keep you warm." "I will not," she answered, fiercely; "it belonged to one of the accursed sex; he died through drinking of the fiery cup; he caused the death of many through the same thing." "Perhaps you will wear this, Louisita," said Mrs. Carleton, offering her one of the best and warmest table covers that she and Miss Vyvyan had brought from the wreck. "Yes," said she, "I will; give me another for my bed." "Let me go, Ada," said Miss Vyvyan, who had hitherto been standing far back in the hall with Cora. "I know where we put one that will please her, for I see that she likes red," and taking Cora up in her arms she disappeared. "Why does she take that child everywhere," asked Louisita. "I told you just now," replied Mrs. Carleton, "that my friend loves my child, and they are always happy together." "Does she think she is happy?" said Louisita, "what a fool she must be; she is not happy, you are not happy, I am not happy. Oh, the fool, she has not sense enough to know that she is not happy." Just at this junction Miss Vyvyan returned with Cora on one arm, and the other one loaded with warm, bright-colored articles, such as she felt sure Louisita would like. As she approached the door, where the woman stood, and passed the things to Mrs. Carleton, the child again clung tightly as before to Anna, who hastily went back to the end of the hall. "Tell the fool to go away out of my sight with that child," said Louisita, "and I will tell you about this place. I will not tell her because she mocks me by bringing the child to remind me of my dead babes--my babes who were famished to death." Miss Vyvyan went to the green parlor with little Cora, and Louisita began her narrative. "I was born in Spain. When I was a young woman, Donna Inez was married to Don Alphonzo in Madrid. She engaged me for her waiting woman. I was married directly after to one of Don Alphonzo's sailors. We came to this island in one of the Don's ships. The castle was most gorgeously furnished with the spoils of almost every country in the world. I thought Don Alphonzo was a great noble, so did my husband, for he was so called in Spain, but soon my husband told me that the Don and all his men were buccaneers. Donna Inez did not know the truth until after we came here. We tried to get away, but that was impossible. The Don brought the richest dresses and jewels to make the Donna like her home, but he could not succeed. Many wrecks I have seen in just the same place you were wrecked in; Don Alphonzo and his crew burned false signals at night, they hoisted false colors by day, they drew the unfortunate ships to their doom; the Don had a hundred men in this castle, ready to obey his commands at any moment. They had uniforms and flags of many nations, which they used as disguises and decoys. They robbed the vessels which fell into their hands, they killed some of their crews, some they sold into slavery, and others who refused to commit murder, they chained to great stones down in the middle dungeon. That was called the 'dungeon of death,' for they kept the men there until they died of starvation, and when they died, they threw their bodies into the well. My husband, Juan, was put into that dungeon, because he would not kill a Spanish boy who was taken prisoner, but Donna Inez made the Don release him, for we thought Juan would help us to get away. The Donna had promised to give him half of her jewels, if he would find some way to get us back to Spain, but he made himself powerless, he soddened his brain, he murdered his manly feelings; he was once good and brave and I loved him with all the intensity and devotion of a true woman, but he learned to value strong drink more than my affection, he killed my love, he drowned it in the fiery cup, and I grew to despise and loath him. Don Alphonzo was worse than Juan, for he had so much learning and so much power and he turned it all to a bad use. He blasted other lives by his own evil example. Out of his wickedness grew the curse which fell upon me, but he has met with retribution." "Poor Louisita," said Mrs. Carleton, speaking very gently, "What can I do for you?" "Nothing," she replied. "Let me tell you the rest. One night the Don and his crew came back with the greatest prize they ever seized. The men were summoned to unload the ship. They made immense fires from the castle to the beach, and by their glare they robbed the merchants of their valuable cargo. It was near midnight before their rapacity was satisfied. Don Alphonzo ordered the vessel to remain where she laid until daybreak, when he intended to set her adrift, with all her crew on board, that he might see them dashed on to those rocks which you see down yonder. The Don then commanded a feast to be set in the banqueting hall, in the base of the north tower. He ordered every man in the castle to attend the revel, that they might rejoice over their great prize. They all went; the wine flowed like water; they went down to the banqueting hall by a secret stairway; they passed along a stone passage, which was closed by an iron gate. The banqueting hall had no windows; they always held their revels there, that they might not be surprised by any enemy, for no light could be seen outside, and no one could tell that they were carousing. I listened on the secret stairs until their loud shouting had ceased, and I knew that the strong drink had soddened their brains, and paralyzed their arms. I ran to Donna Inez; I dressed her in the richest brocade; I covered her neck and arms with jewels of fabulous worth, for I knew the effect of costly attire upon the accursed sex whose help we needed. I made ready some caskets of jewels to take with us. I told the Donna all that I had heard of the ship lying there till morning, and we resolved to let the captain know that the Don and all his men were powerless, and to offer him the Donna's jewels if he would take us away. We knew he would be glad to escape; we knew he would be glad of the jewels, for they would make him very rich. We were ready to leave the castle. My babes were very young; they were asleep in a large basket; I could easily carry them to the beach. We heard a sound like a moan; it seemed far off, then a distant rumble, but nearer than the first sound; next a terrific roar; another and a fearful crash, crash. For a moment the whole castle trembled; a flash of light lit up the place; the north tower was wrecked from top to bottom; the walls fell inward; they fell as you see them lying now, for no hand has touched them since. We knew an earthquake had occurred. My babes awoke and screamed; I tried to quiet them, and to hold Donna Inez back, but she tore herself away; she was panic stricken; she did not know what she did; she said something to me as she ran out of her room about seeking protection; she rushed down the stairs in the direction of the banqueting hall; she never came up them again. As soon as I had hushed my babes I followed her. She was inside the iron gate; it had closed upon her as she passed through. It could only be opened by those who understood the secret spring. There was no one who could come to show us how to open it. We could not break the gate; that was impossible. We saw that the further end of the castle was stopped, all filled up with immense blocks of stone which had crashed in when the tower fell. Don Alphonzo and more than a hundred men lay under the ruins; they shrieked and groaned there all through the night. Donna Inez became frantic. She dashed herself against the iron bars like some newly caged bird. In the morning when the sun came up from the sea she was dead. I looked for the ship; it had sailed. I had almost lost the power of moving, but the cries of my babes called me back to activity. I gathered some covering and some other things and took them to the Vikings' tomb. I tore away the earth to make an entrance. We lived there till cold and hunger killed my babes. I have lived there ever since. Nothing could induce me ever to enter the castle again." "Why do you call it the Vikings' tomb, Louisita?" asked Mrs. Carleton. "That was what Don Alphonzo called it. I think he knew for he was a man of much learning, although he had no sense. He said the Vikings built the castle very long ago, and lived here for two hundred years till a great pestilence prevailed among them, and so many died of it that the remaining ones deserted the place. He said the Indians cast a spell over the Vikings and bewitched them, because the Indians used to live here in wigwams before the Vikings came and drove them away from their own land, and would not allow them to bury their dead among their forefathers, for they have a burial place on this island. It is down there just below the swamp where I saw you gathering flowers one day soon after you came here. There is a large elm tree down there, the only one near. The Indians are buried there all round it. They always had an elm tree in that place. They have a secret charm by which they keep it there. The Vikings cut down their elm many times, but it sprung up again in the night, and was as tall and large as ever the next day. When we came here Don Alphonzo had their tree cut down every day, but it always came up again just the same. At last he was afraid the Indian spirits would cast a spell over him, too, so he let their elm alone. The Indians still bury their dead under it, but no one ever sees them arrive. They come in the night. An elm will always grow there till the two thousand years for which they have their charm has expired. After that time there will never be another." CHAPTER XI. A fool, a fool!--I met a fool i' the forest. The first winter which the ladies and little Cora passed on the island, was unusually severe, but they had expected and prepared for it; and the winter scene was so novel to them, and fraught with so much beauty, that they never wearied of it. Besides the constant occupation in their housekeeping and attending to Cora, and also caring for Louisita, and providing her with all the comforts they had in their power to take to her, for she still insisted in living in the Vikings' tomb, which she never permitted them to enter. Spring came at last, and with it returned to the island the robins, the song thrushes, the beautiful golden orioles, and the humming birds, all of which had gone southward at the beginning of winter. The wood violets and the trailing arbutus blossomed among the grass. The spruces and pines put forth their young buds, and the whole island wore a garb of beauty. The little family of three, spent much time out of doors, and visited the beach almost daily, for they all loved the sea, especially little Cora; and to enhance her happiness was the first desire of both of the ladies. They frequently wandered around Ralph's grave, and never omitted adding a stone to the cairn, which they had raised to his memory. Little Cora with her tiny hands, always placing her own mite to the pile. As the child grew stronger, they took longer walks, and taught her from the book of nature as they went along, for Nature's lessons in geology, and botany, and natural history, lay all around them. They had by this, brought their lives into the same degree of system and order, as that in which they had each of them been educated in their respective homes; the want of which during the first part of their residence on the island they greatly missed. They now divided their days, and had regular hours for certain occupations, and they made a compact, that they would always be cheerful in the presence of the child, and meet their destiny bravely, that they might not give a somber tinge to her young life. Everything went well with them as far as might be, excepting that Louisita, who had the control over three cows, would never let them have a drop of milk for Cora. The child had for a long while after their coming, constantly repeated at every meal "Dinah, bing milk." She seemed to think her negress nurse was somewhere near her, and was able to bring anything she wished for, as formerly. Her demands for milk, had ceased for a week or two, when one morning she again begged for it, and when told she could not have any, a look of extreme repression of feeling came over her features. She did not cry, or in any way show temper. The food was distasteful to the poor little thing; and the look of forced endurance, one may say that forced resignation and endurance combined, which we sometimes see in older faces and which is utterly discordant with their reasoning faculties, was distressing to behold in one so young. The child could not understand why she was not to have milk; but the brave spirit of her mother was her birthright, and like her mother, she endured disappointment without a murmur. "This must not be any longer, Ada," said Miss Vyvyan. "It is too much for you to witness, and for Cora to suffer. That dear child shall have some milk. I will learn how, and I will milk one of those cows, whether Louisita's sword kills me or not." "Dear Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, "I pray you do not expose yourself to danger; do not be rash. Why what has come to you? I never heard you speak like that before." "I know it, Ada, but you never saw me so placed else you would have. I detest selfishness, and you have been so kind to Louisita, and she is aware how precious Cora is to us. You know we shall not be depriving her of anything, because she told us she threw most of the milk away; but she encourages the cows to come here in order to keep them tame. You recollect that she told you the rest of the herd which stay on the other side of the island have become wild." "I, of course, know that we should not be depriving Louisita," said Mrs. Carleton; "but I fear so much that she may hurt you." "Only teach me a few words of Spanish, Ada," said Miss Vyvyan, "and I will put that out of her power. Teach me to say I am a spirit, you cannot harm me." "I am afraid, Anna; for your own sake I would not have you go." "I am not in the least afraid of her," replied Miss Vyvyan. "I have always done my best to help her, and I certainly intend to continue to be kind to her, because she needs help; but I never submit to injustice being done either to my friends or to myself. I consider it unjust to throw away the milk which Cora so much requires." With those words Miss Vyvyan left the room. In a few minutes she returned. "Ada," said she, addressing Mrs. Carleton, "my good old guardian, Sir Thomas, used to say 'All is fair in love and in war.' Now I am going to unite both love and war, for as I love you and Cora I must in all honor defend you both, just as some gallant knight would do if he were here. Put your hand on my shoulder and feel what is there." Mrs. Carleton did so. "Why, what have you under your dress?" said she. "A whole suit of chain armor, Ada, that's all, and a helmet of the same under this lace scarf on my head. Louisita won't have the pleasure of piercing my heart this time, and when she finds that she cannot, she will think the spirits are round me, or that I am like the Indians and have a charm. I am going now; the cows are in sight. I saw how Louisita milked, and I think I can do it. Look down from the window, Ada, and see the fun." "Anna be back," said the child, looking up with a face more full of anxious desire than inquiry. "Yes, precious one," replied Miss Vyvyan, "Anna will come back." No sooner had Miss Vyvyan approached the cow and was endeavoring to imitate as well as she could Louisita's way of milking, than the latter came striding out of the mound wearing her cavalry boots and flourishing her sword, exclaiming, as usual: "Hence; away, away; all here is mine. Touch not that cow. I will pierce your heart." Miss Vyvyan who heard it all did not take any notice of her, but went on with apparent indifference, pursuing her lacteal occupation. Louisita stood over her and went through all the sword exercises that she was mistress of. Still Miss Vyvyan continued her endeavor to milk, unharmed either by cut or thrust. Presently, turning to Louisita, she repeated her Spanish lesson as well as she could in the midst of her laughter. "It is the fool who is laughing," said Louisita, looking up at Mrs. Carleton, who was leaning out of one of the tower windows. "It is the fool, who has not sense enough to know that she is not happy. I shall never interfere with her again; she can have all the milk she wishes for; she has a charmed life." CHAPTER XII. The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, Upon the place beneath. It is twice bless'd. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest. Summers and winters went by; five years had passed since the family had been cast on the island; they had watched from the tower almost daily for a white sail, but none had ever appeared, and yet they always continued to hope that the day would come, and they struggled within themselves to be patient and cheerful. Sometimes the thought would take possession of the mind of each of the ladies, that one or other of them might die, and how terrible it would be for the one who was left, and worse still a thousand times, both of them might die and leave Cora; but neither of them would ever breathe a word which could convey such an idea to the other; and when such thoughts and feelings oppressed them, they took the best method of dispelling their anxiety by engaging themselves in some active occupation. They made a pretty garden for summer enjoyment out of doors, and another for winter in one of the large rooms, by filling boxes and chests with earth. They always had beautiful flowers in their parlor, which was a great source of delight to Cora, as well as to her guardians. The two guitars which they had found in the castle, they strung with wire, and managed to have some music every evening in the twilight; then they had a time set apart, also in the early part of the evening, which they called Cora's hour. For that period, they devoted themselves wholly to the recital of such subjects as were suitable and pleasant to her, and which they varied every day in the week, weaving each recital into a little story, sometimes telling from history; at another time, Mrs. Carleton would compose a story about Virginian life, and Miss Vyvyan would tell one about foreign countries; but the hour Cora liked best, was the one devoted to poetry and fairy tales. She was now in her eighth year, and could read very well; but there were no fairy tales among the numerous books in the library, so the ladies repeated them from memory. When the friends had put Cora to bed, they always remained together during the rest of the evening, working, and reading aloud to each other, making new dresses for Cora, who grew very fast, or planning some pleasant surprise for her, and as far as their present position allowed, always considering the child's future, and in what manner it was their duty to educate her, so that she might be best prepared to encounter any of the reverses or changes of condition, which fate brings into the lives of so many of us. Louisita had taught the ladies how to poison some of the provisions with a plant which grew in the woods, and by so doing, and laying the poisoned food about the ground, they had destroyed nearly all the wolves, and now wandered about the island where they desired, making expeditions in search of flowers, or having little picnics for Cora in the woods, and visiting Ralph's cairn without their former fear. They had all been spending a long summer afternoon on the beach, the ladies seated on the rocks between Ralph's cairn and the sea, Mrs. Carleton working on a dress, that she was making for Louisita, Miss Vyvyan reading aloud, and Cora filling in the small open spaces in the cairn, with little stones of her own selecting. The sun had gone behind the hill on the western side of the castle, when the little party left Ralph's cairn and strolled along the shore, as they returned homeward, gathering the beautiful sea-pea blossoms on their way. "Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, "we have not seen Louisita to-day; shall we go to the mound and tell her that her dress will be finished in the morning, perhaps that would please her?" "I am ready," replied Miss Vyvyan, "to go anywhere you please, Ada; you always know the right thing to do." "May I stay a little way off with Anna," said Cora, "not far; I am afraid of Louisita, but I want to be near you mama, to take care of you. Don't you think, Anna, that Louisita is very cross," said the child. "Not now, dear, she has been very gentle and quiet for the last year." "I remember," the child continued, "a long time ago when I was little and you were trying to get some milk for me, and she hit you with her sword, she frightened me so; I was afraid she would kill you." "She does not carry her sword any longer," said Miss Vyvyan, "and she does not scold us any more; she would not hurt any one now, your mama has been so kind to her, and set her such an example of goodness that she has made her good, too." They had reached the entrance to the mound; Cora shrank back and clasped Miss Vyvyan's hand, who led her a few steps on one side. "What is this," said the child holding in her hand a gold ornament set with garnets that she had just picked up from a heap of rubbish which appeared to be sweepings from Louisita's abode. "That is a fibula, Cora, such as I saw in a museum in Norway." "Look, Anna, look at these," she continued, gathering up several antique beads of glass mosaic and a few chess men of amber from the same place. "Tell me what they are?" "They all came from Norway," replied Miss Vyvyan, explaining their use to her. Mrs. Carleton meanwhile knocked on the broken planks which served for a floor, and as Louisita did not appear she entered the mound, but soon came out again, and whispered something to Miss Vyvyan who passed in, leaving Mrs. Carleton with Cora. On first entering, it was difficult to distinguish the interior of the place, or any of the numerous objects that it contained, as the only light came in through the shattered door, and a small hole on one side of the mound, which evidently served as a chimney and a window also. After a few seconds, when Miss Vyvyan's eyes became accustomed to the extremely subdued light, she saw that she was in a place that was four or five hundred feet in circumference and about twenty-four feet high. Advancing toward the side on which the hole was broken, she observed Louisita. A gleam of light fell upon her. She was kneeling in front of a small structure which formed a table. Her hands were clasped in the attitude of prayer, and her fixed and glassy eyes seemed to look up in the direction of a small silver crucifix, which hung on the wall before her. Her features were set and rigid. The rich brown Spanish tint had left her face. When Miss Vyvyan looked upon her she knew that she was dead, and, on laying her hand upon her cold brow, she concluded that death had taken place many hours previously; perhaps the night before. She summoned Mrs. Carleton, and bidding Cora sit down where they could see her from the inside of the mound, the ladies proceeded to lay Louisita to rest in the same tomb that had so long been her dwelling. They lifted her on to her bed; they folded the poor, tired hands of the weary woman, whose life had lingered on through those lonely, loveless years. They took the silver crucifix from the wall and laid it upon her breast; for although they were not of her creed, they respected her devotion. They felt thankful that in her lifetime they had done all they could to lighten her burden. They felt still more thankful for her own sake, that her pilgrimage was ended, and that she had gone to join the babes who were so dear to her mother's heart. Not finding sufficient boards to close up the entrance securely, the ladies went to the further end of the place to get some which they saw there. The pile was very high, and as soon as they took hold of one, several other boards fell in broken pieces at their feet, revealing the ribs of an old Norwegian ship, inside of which lay the skeleton of a man which had been there so long, that it began to crumble to ashes the moment it was exposed to the air. They turned to leave the ship when another and much larger fall of boards exposed the skeleton of a horse. They paused a moment and looked round; they saw that Louisita was not in error when she had told them that the Norsemen were at one time on the island, for there was every evidence of the mound being the tomb of a Viking. Among the bones of the horse lay the remains of a bridle and saddle of leather and wood, the mountings of which were in bronze and silver. Near that of the man lay some ring-armor, a shield-buckle, two stones of a hand-mill for grinding corn, bits for bridles, stirrups, some gold finger rings and a fibula of the same metal. The ladies passed quietly out of the tomb, and built up the entrance as well as they could with stones and earth, across which they drew the vines and brambles that grew among the spruces close by, so that at the end of the following summer there was not any trace left of an entrance ever having been there. * * * * * Mrs. Carleton had missed Miss Vyvyan for a longer period of time than usual one day, and in going in search of her to a part of the castle which they rarely went into, she found her engaged in making a little gift to surprise Cora with, and singing in a low tone the following song:-- WHY? Oh weary years why come and go With endless sorrow rife; And hope's dead dreams why come ye back To mock my empty life? Oh destiny, oh bitter fate, Oh burning tears that start, Why must the hearts that love the most Forever dwell apart? Mrs. Carleton entered the room so gently that Miss Vyvyan was not aware of her presence until the former was close beside her. "You look sad, dear Anna; what can I do to cheer you?" "This is a sad anniversary for me," replied Miss Vyvyan; "but I did not intend you to know it." "Let us hope, Anna, that time will give us back some of our former happiness," said Mrs. Carleton. "The grave is unrelenting, Ada; it never gives back what it has taken from us. I will tell you all some day. I cannot talk about the past now; it would unfit me for being of use to others who have suffered; it would make me no companion for you and dear Cora; it would be selfish to intrude my life upon you." "No, Anna, pray tell me why I sometimes see so sad an expression on your face which you change the instant you find I am looking at you. You know you have never alluded to any event in your life prior to our being shipwrecked. You have told me of your childhood, certainly, but that was so bright and happy that the recollection of it must be an endless source of thankfulness. Now I again pray of you, tell me all." "As you so much wish it, Ada," replied Miss Vyvyan, "I will tell you that the sunlight went out of my life too soon. At the time I first met you the world was all darkness to me; all my days and years were winter, and my only wish was to die." "Oh Anna, do not say that," said Mrs. Carleton; "but go on and tell me why." "Forgive me, I fear I was rebellious, but I only thought of the present. I could not look forward; it seemed as if there were no future for me here. I was alone; the only lips which had the right to breathe my name were sealed in death, and the stately dignity or cold respect with which I was always addressed reminded me hourly of my isolated existence. I have no words that can express to you the utter desolation I felt in having no one to call me by name. I often sought the whispering of the wind through the trees, the leaves and the long, waving grass in the hope that it might emit a sound which my fancy could fashion into the once familiar name, but all in vain; the trees and the leaves and the grass, even the rocks and hills, whispered and murmured and talked of many things, but the sound I most longed to hear came never." Anna noticed that Mrs. Carleton looked sorrowful. She ceased speaking. "Why did you stop, Anna; go on." "I am distressing you, I see," answered Miss Vyvyan; "I ought not to pain you." "Please go on, Anna." "I cannot expect you to comprehend my exceeding loneliness at that time, because your life has never been empty, and you have now your beautiful child. When first I met you I had nothing. When I say nothing, I do not mean to infer that I was destitute of worldly means. I had an ample fortune which I inherited from my mother, besides the manor house and the landed estates of my grandfather; but I was destitute in the deepest sense; I had nothing of my own to love; I was alone. Do you know what that word alone means, 'when hope and the dreams of hope lie dead?' No, Ada, you cannot, God grant you never may. At length there dawned that rich, golden autumn day, when you named Cora, and gave me the right to say 'My.' The surprise was so great to me that I scarcely knew whether I was moving about in a dream, for my existence had been so long void of interest that I deemed happiness for me dead. But when I took Cora in my arms, and looked into the wondrous eyes, and saw the love, the purity and the delicate sensibility of the being to whom I could always in the future say 'My,' a new world and a new existence seemed before me, and I thought angel voices thus whispered and said, 'We have brought this beautiful child into your life to dwell forever as a sweet, fair flower in the garden of your heart.' And as the child grew and talked and called me by my name, the music of its voice and footstep gladdened my soul and sent a thrill of joy through my whole being. Ever since the day of our shipwreck, when you were lying on the beach so near death that I did not dare to allow myself to believe that you could live, (and may I say it, Ada, without seeming vain), when I was made the instrument to call you back to life. Ever since that day until this, you and Cora have seemed to belong to me; to be mine to love and live for. So you see you have brought back the sunshine into my life. I have finished; I shall never again talk in this way. My study shall be to brighten, not to sadden, the path which lies before you in the future." Anna Vyvyan kept her promise to the end. CHAPTER XIII. The heart that has been mourning O'er vanished dreams of love, Shall see them all returning, Like Noah's faithful dove. And hope shall launch her blessed bark On sorrow's darkening sea. * * * * * I have had joy and sorrow; I have proved What lips could give; have loved and been beloved; I am sick and heart-sore, And weary, let me sleep; But deep, deep, Never to awaken more! It was September again, and the golden rod and fall asters, that had for seven seasons been Cora's delight, were once more in their yellow and purple glory. The day was sunny, and the rich autumnal glow spread itself over the walls of the old castle, the forest, the rocks, and the sea, and the island and its surroundings seemed to the little family to be more beautiful than ever. Mrs. Carleton was engaged in decorating the green parlor with flowers and trailing plants, which Miss Vyvyan and Cora had gathered for that purpose. The two latter had gone down among the trees near the beach to get the last basketful of moss to complete the work of adornment. "Quick, Trefethen, quick, hand me my gun; see those birds, what an immense flight of them," shouted a strong masculine voice within a few yards of the trees which concealed them from view, and which also prevented them from seeing from whom the voice came. "Don't fire," cried Miss Vyvyan, instantly catching up Cora in her arms as she used to do in the child's baby days. "Don't fire," she repeated, "there are people here who are coming out of the woods on that side," at the same time, forcing her way among the trees, in the direction from which the voice came; and taking the advantage of making an inspection without being seen herself. Cora caught sight of two figures standing on the open ground between the forest and the sea. She clasped Miss Vyvyan's neck more tightly and whispered softly, "Look, Anna, there are two papas." Miss Vyvyan paused, and looking between the branches she saw a tall, finely grown gentleman in the full military uniform of a colonel of the British army. By his side stood a man of smaller stature who wore the blue coat of a sea captain of that period. As the sunlight fell upon the bright scarlet uniform, the gold laced hat, the gold epaulets and the handsome scabbard which contained the colonel's sword, the child gazed in great amazement, not unmixed with admiration. As we have already said, Cora was born brave, and like her mother struggled to keep up a calm courage through any emergency; but the poor little heart trembled a little when she said, "Anna, I think he is a very pretty papa, but why does he wear that sword? Louisita used to wear a sword," she added. "We are safe, Cora; he will not hurt us. He wears the uniform of our king. He would help us if we wanted him to." "Shall we go to him?" said the child. "Yes; we must so that we can tell your mama what sort of persons are on the island." A few more steps took them out of the wood. Miss Vyvyan put the child out of her arms and led her. The gentleman in uniform advanced to meet them, and raising his hat said, "Pray pardon me if I caused you any alarm. I did not know that this island was inhabited, and I saw so much wild fowl that the temptation to shoot was very strong." "I can quite understand that," replied Miss Vyvyan. "We need no apology," she added, "as we were aware that most gentlemen enjoy sport, and your bearing and the uniform that you wear assure us that there is no cause for alarm." The officer bowed low, but made no reply. Cora, who was still holding Miss Vyvyan's hand, looked up at her and said again, "What a pretty papa, and more papas coming from the ship; but I like this one best." The child's excitement was so great that her whisper was very audible to the officer. "What does she mean?" he asked. "That is her own way of expressing herself," Miss Vyvyan answered. "She calls all pictures of men papas. We think she has some recollection of her father, although she was little else than a babe when he was drowned here, which is seven years ago to-day. She appears in some mysterious way to realize that there was such a relationship, for she delights in looking at pictures of papas as she calls them, more especially such as are represented as wearing military uniform. And when she was very young I have often seen her press her cheek against that of a small statuette which we have of a soldier and kiss it and call it papa." While Miss Vyvyan and the officer were still speaking Cora was examining the handsome uniform, and the gentleman was looking intently at the gold chain that the child wore round her throat. After a little conversation the officer addressing Miss Vyvyan said, "I hope you will not think me too inquisitive if I ask whether this fair sea flower has a mother living." "Oh yes," cried the child before Miss Vyvyan had time to reply, "I have the dearest mama in the world and we do love her so, don't we Anna?" Cora in her enthusiasm let go Miss Vyvyan's hand, and taking hold of the officer's, "Come," she said, "come with us and see her, and then you will love her, too." Miss Vyvyan was about to suggest that probably the strange gentleman would prefer not to accept Cora's invitation until he had received one from her mother, when he interposed by asking Cora what her mother's name was. "Why, it is mama," she replied. "Yes, fair one; but she has another name." "Oh, you mean Ada, that is what Anna calls her." "She is Mrs. Carleton," said Miss Vyvyan. "Great Heaven! my prayer is answered," exclaimed the officer. Turning quickly away for a few paces he covered his face with his hands, and his stalwart frame trembled with emotion. "What is the matter," said Cora, "are you unhappy; never mind, do not be sorry, papa." "Yes, my beloved child, I am indeed your own papa who has come back to you and mama; take me to her; I must go to her this moment, show me the nearest way." Cora again clasped her hand round one of his fingers and as she lead him along she said, "Mama will be so happy for she thought you could never come back to us, and she often told me that if we were good we should go to you some day; poorest mama, big tears come into her eyes when she tells me about my papa." Arriving at the end of the corridor leading to the green parlor Cora ran swiftly in advance of Miss Vyvyan and Colonel Carleton calling as she went, "Mama, mama, we have found a real papa, not a picture, but my own papa." Then came the meeting of the long-parted hearts and the recounting of events, which had taken place since the day on which destiny had torn the husband and wife from each other. Cora full of fresh young life joined in the conversation every instant, telling her father how they used to get the eggs of the sea birds and the honey from the wild bees' nest, and how they caught the sea perch from off the rocks, and how she found a jar of gold coins near the Vikings' tomb, which her mama said were pesos, and all about the fibula which she found there, also. Then Colonel Carleton explained how he tried to rescue his wife and child, just as Ralph had told them a few days after they were wrecked; and how he was picked up by a young man from Wales who came out in the English ship, and was lashed to a floating mast by that brave young fellow, and by him kept from drowning until they fell in with a slave ship that was bound for the coast of Africa, but was also out of its course as well as their own unfortunate vessels; and how they were taken on board and kept toiling under an African sun for nearly seven years, when good fortune smiled upon them and they were sold as slaves and sent to the colony of Virginia. "The same young Welshman," continued Colonel Carleton, "has always been with me. He has a very remarkable talent for navigation, and is now the captain of my ship. If he had not been I do not think I should ever have been able to find you, for I did not know that it was an island upon which we were shipwrecked; but he did, and under Providence, I have everything to thank him for." "Beg pardon," said a voice at this part of Colonel Carleton's narrative, and turning their eyes in the direction of the door they saw standing there the muscular, well-knit figure, the pleasant face and bright eyes of Captain Trefethen. "Beg pardon," he repeated, "but I heard what the Colonel said about me, and I want to say, that if he had not cut off the leather belt he wore and let all his gold fall into the ocean, that I might have the leather to chew when I was famishing with hunger on the mast, I must have died; and I feel that under Providence I have everything to thank him for. I made up my mind then never to leave the Colonel till I saw him moored in a safe harbor. In a few days," Captain Trefethen continued, "everything will be ready for the good ship 'Ada' to sail for Virginia, and as I do not suppose the Colonel will want to take another voyage of discovery, I will leave you all there, as I intended to come back to these parts myself and settle on an island about forty miles down this bay. It has a queer Indian name, 'Monhegan' they call it. Captain John Smith, who is now ranging this coast, told me about it. He seems to have a fancy for Indian names. I shall never forget how he sung the praises of an Indian girl the night before he set out on his present voyage. 'Pocahontas,' he called her. Here is some fruit and a few little things for the ladies," he continued, placing a box upon one of the tables and leaving the room. When Colonel Carleton was again left with his wife and child and Miss Vyvyan, he resumed his conversation, and answered all the anxious and rapid inquiries of Mrs. Carleton. "Yes," he said, "I assure you again that I left all the family in Virginia perfectly well. Your father attended to my estates during my absence, and by his wisdom in managing them, he has increased their value sevenfold. Your sister Julia was married two years ago, and she has an excellent husband." "Excellent husband," echoed Cora, "What kind of thing is that? Mama and Anna never told me about the excellent. Where do you find it, is it a bird; can it sing; may I have one?" Cora was about to propound further questions regarding an excellent husband when the merry peals of laughter from the two ladies and the Colonel, put an end to her interrogations. She did not understand why they all laughed, and like many of her elders under similar circumstances she felt sensitive on that account; but with her usual quickness of thought, she said, "I know why you are so merry, papa; it is because you are so glad to be with us all in this parlor, that mama has made so pretty with these bouquets and wreaths of flowers. Mama makes all our rooms pretty; you ought to see them when the days are dark and foggy, so that we cannot see anything outside; then mama gets so many branches of the fragrant fir and green moss and red berries, and makes the most beautiful things." "Why does mama select the foggy days to adorn the rooms most, my darling?" said the Colonel. "Why, don't you know? she does it to make Anna and me happy. Sunshine within, mama calls it, and Anna made a song about that; shall I sing it to you?" Without waiting for a reply, the child sung the song all through, keeping time on her father's arm, which encircled her as she sat on his knee. When the refrain "our sunshine is within" ended, Colonel Carleton bent down and pressed his lips upon the golden head of his little daughter. There was a mist before his eyes as he said, "Yes, my darling, our sunshine is within our own hearts, and it is in mine to-day for which I thank God." Cora continued talking, telling her father all about the beautiful flowers on the island, and the picnics on the sea beach and in the woods. "And one day, papa," said she, "we went for a long walk to the north end of this island, mama said it was, and we saw such a pretty little island all covered with trees, and the eagles were up on the tall pines. It was so close to our island that we could almost jump on to it, and mama said I could think of a name for it, so I named it "Fairy island." I think our island that we live on is very pretty, too, but I am glad we are going to Virginia to live near grandpa and grandma and Aunt Julia and my uncles, and I want to see grandpa's dog Franco. Do you know, papa, I never saw a dog. And Anna must come, too, and live with us." "Of course she will," said Colonel and Mrs. Carleton, both speaking at the same time; "and perhaps," added Cora, "when it is summer, we will go to England and visit Anna in her old home at the manor house." "That is right, Cora," said Miss Vyvyan; "the way in which you have arranged for the happiness of all of us is admirable." "Yes," said Colonel Carleton, "Cora has made a very pleasant sounding plan, but I am not as sure as my little daughter appears to be, that we shall be able to carry out the whole of it, for when we land in Virginia, Miss Vyvyan, your cousin, Ronald Fairfax, may have something to say in the matter. From what Ada has already told me, you seem to have felt great interest in poor Ralph, and he and Ronald so much resembled each other in all respects that it was almost impossible to distinguish them. Pardon me, if I say that I sincerely hope you may take an interest in Ronald; besides the affection that existed between these two brothers was so profound that Ronald will desire to show his gratitude to you for your kind care of one so dear to him. How is he to do it? I only see one way." The next few days passed by very quickly, as every one was busily engaged in making their preparations for the voyage. Full of autumn beauty, the last day arrived, and the boat with its crew waited on the beach for the family from the castle. "Oh dear," said Cora, who was standing in the green parlor all ready to start, with her arms full of her favorite golden rod and fall asters, "how could I forget to pick up some of those shells which I like so much; I wanted to take some to give to all of them at home, I am so sorry." "There will still be time enough to get some before we embark, Cora; you shall have some, dear," said Miss Vyvyan. "Why Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, "you are surely not going down to the breakers to-day; I fear you will wear your life out for Cora's sake." "Never mind me, Ada," replied Miss Vyvyan. "If I die in a labor of love it will be the death I most desire." So saying she took a little basket and left the room. As she passed through the door Cora threw her a kiss and said, "Anna be back." As we have said previously, the ladies liked Cora to keep some of her baby language, and that was one of her own modes of expression which they never corrected. It reminded them of her infancy and of their own mutual attachment, which first met in the love they each of them bore toward the child. "Are you all ready?" said Colonel Carleton, as he came along the corridor to the green parlor. "Where is Miss Vyvyan?" he added, on entering the room. "She has gone down to the breakers to get some shells that Cora wishes to take to Virginia," replied Mrs. Carleton. "We will all join her there," said the Colonel, "and then we can walk back along the shore to our boat." On arriving at the long ledge of rocks that ran straight out into the ocean, and which they called the "Whale's Back," they entered the little cove that was situated on the side nearest to the castle. There was Miss Vyvyan's basket half filled with the shells that Cora so much desired; but where was she? In another moment, Cora with her quick step was springing up to the highest part of the rocks. A shriek of anguish from the child, and the cry in her former baby language, "Anna be back, Anna be back," brought her parents instantly to her side. Looking from the high wall that nature had formed, and across the larger cove on the other side, they saw far out toward the open sea Miss Vyvyan's upturned face. She was floating on an enormous wave which was bearing her rapidly toward the shore. "Oh Anna, poor Anna; save her Dudley," cried Mrs. Carleton, believing anything possible to the brave and kind-hearted man, who had dared and surmounted all obstacles for her own sake. "Yes, dearest; yes, trust me. I will do my utmost," replied the Colonel, quickly scaling the outer side of the cliff, and dashing over and among the broken masses of rock that laid between him and the sea. Throwing off his hat and heavy uniform coat, he stood with extended arms at the water's edge, exactly at the spot where he knew the wave would strike. Miss Vyvyan was being swiftly borne toward him and was within a few feet distance. "Keep calm," he called to her, "for heaven's sake, keep calm, and I can save you." The great wave bearing its living burden, broke upon the beach with unusual violence. Colonel Carleton was struck and thrown far up toward the shore by its mighty force. In another instant, he was on his feet again, rushing forward after the receding water, which was carrying Miss Vyvyan out. She still floated on the crest of the wave. Raising one hand and unclasping it, she threw upon the beach a small white shell, saying as she did so, "for dear Cora." She saw the friendly outstretched arm of the brave man; she looked up to the rocks; she saw the pure, classic features of gentle, loving Ada, paralyzed with distress, white as marble, pallid and death-like, as on the day that she had kissed them back to life seven years before. She saw the beautiful child, who was so precious to her; she noted the terror, pain and love in its fair, young face. She heard the sweet voice calling "Anna be back." She saw no more, the waters covered her; the same ocean which had brought her to the island, claimed her for its own and bore her away forever. * * * * * Many summers and winters have come and gone, and long years have passed away since the ladies and their dear little one lived on the island. The flowers have faded and the trees of the forest have died with time, but neither time nor death has power to kill the love of a true heart; that lives on forever and ever and, phoenix-like, exists on its own ashes. So it is that the solitary student wandering in the twilight along the shore, and the young lovers, who are whispering the old, yet always sweet story in the little cove close by, hear ever and anon, coming up from the sea, the echo of Anna Vyvyan's last words, "For dear Cora." 
10394	----	Distributed Proofreaders STOLEN TREASURE BY HOWARD PYLE Author of "Men of Iron" "Twilight Land" "The Wonder Clock" "Pepper and Salt" ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR MCMVII CONTENTS I. WITH THE BUCCANEERS II. TOM CHIST AND THE TREASURE-BOX III. THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND IV. THE DEVIL AT NEW HOPE ILLUSTRATIONS "'I'VE KEPT MY EARS OPEN TO ALL YOUR DOINGS'" "THIS FIGURE OF WAR OUR HERO ASKED TO STEP ASIDE WITH HIM" "OUR HERO, LEAPING TO THE WHEEL, SEIZED THE FLYING SPOKES" "SHE AND MASTER HARRY WOULD SPEND HOURS TOGETHER" "'... AND TWENTY-ONE AND TWENTY-TWO'" "''TIS ENOUGH,' CRIED OUT PARSON JONES, 'TO MAKE US BOTH RICH MEN'" "CAPTAIN MALYOE SHOT CAPTAIN BRAND THROUGH THE HEAD" "HE WOULD SHOUT OPPROBRIOUS WORDS AFTER THE OTHER IN THE STREETS" STOLEN TREASURE I. WITH THE BUCCANEERS _Being an Account of Certain Adventures that Befell Henry Mostyn under Captain H. Morgan in the Year 1665-66._ I Although this narration has more particularly to do with the taking of the Spanish Vice-Admiral in the harbor of Puerto Bello, and of the rescue therefrom of Le Sieur Simon, his wife and daughter (the adventure of which was successfully achieved by Captain Morgan, the famous buccaneer), we shall, nevertheless, premise something of the earlier history of Master Harry Mostyn, whom you may, if you please, consider as the hero of the several circumstances recounted in these pages. In the year 1664 our hero's father embarked from Portsmouth, in England, for the Barbadoes, where he owned a considerable sugar plantation. Thither to those parts of America he transported with himself his whole family, of whom our Master Harry was the fifth of eight children--a great lusty fellow as little fitted for the Church (for which he was designed) as could be. At the time of this story, though not above sixteen years old, Master Harry Mostyn was as big and well-grown as many a man of twenty, and of such a reckless and dare-devil spirit that no adventure was too dangerous or too mischievous for him to embark upon. At this time there was a deal of talk in those parts of the Americas concerning Captain Morgan, and the prodigious successes he was having pirating against the Spaniards. This man had once been an indentured servant with Mr. Rolls, a sugar factor at the Barbadoes. Having served out his time, and being of lawless disposition, possessing also a prodigious appetite for adventure, he joined with others of his kidney, and, purchasing a caraval of three guns, embarked fairly upon that career of piracy the most successful that ever was heard of in the world. Master Harry had known this man very well while he was still with Mr. Rolls, serving as a clerk at that gentleman's sugar wharf, a tall, broad-shouldered, strapping fellow, with red cheeks, and thick red lips, and rolling blue eyes, and hair as red as any chestnut. Many knew him for a bold, gruff-spoken man, but no one at that time suspected that he had it in him to become so famous and renowned as he afterwards grew to be. The fame of his exploits had been the talk of those parts for above a twelvemonth, when, in the latter part of the year 1665, Captain Morgan, having made a very successful expedition against the Spaniards into the Gulf of Campeachy--where he took several important purchases from the plate fleet--came to the Barbadoes, there to fit out another such venture, and to enlist recruits. He and certain other adventurers had purchased a vessel of some five hundred tons, which they proposed to convert into a pirate by cutting port-holes for cannon, and running three or four carronades across her main-deck. The name of this ship, be it mentioned, was the _Good Samaritan_, as ill-fitting a name as could be for such a craft, which, instead of being designed for the healing of wounds, was intended to inflict such devastation as those wicked men proposed. Here was a piece of mischief exactly fitted to our hero's tastes; wherefore, having made up a bundle of clothes, and with not above a shilling in his pocket, he made an excursion into the town to seek for Captain Morgan. There he found the great pirate established at an ordinary, with a little court of ragamuffins and swashbucklers gathered about him, all talking very loud, and drinking healths in raw rum as though it were sugared water. And what a fine figure our buccaneer had grown, to be sure! How different from the poor, humble clerk upon the sugarwharf! What a deal of gold braid! What a fine, silver-hilted Spanish sword! What a gay velvet sling, hung with three silver-mounted pistols! If Master Harry's mind had not been made up before, to be sure such a spectacle of glory would have determined it. This figure of war our hero asked to step aside with him, and when they had come into a corner, proposed to the other what he intended, and that he had a mind to enlist as a gentleman adventurer upon this expedition. Upon this our rogue of a buccaneer Captain burst out a-laughing, and fetching Master Harry a great thump upon the back, swore roundly that he would make a man of him, and that it was a pity to make a parson out of so good a piece of stuff. [Illustration: "THIS FIGURE OF WAR OUR HERO ASKED TO STEP ASIDE WITH HIM"] Nor was Captain Morgan less good than his word, for when the _Good Samaritan_ set sail with a favoring wind for the island of Jamaica, Master Harry found himself established as one of the adventurers aboard. II Could you but have seen the town of Port Royal as it appeared in the year 1665 you would have beheld a sight very well worth while looking upon. There were no fine houses at that time, and no great counting-houses built of brick, such as you may find nowadays, but a crowd of board and wattled huts huddled along the streets, and all so gay with flags and bits of color that Vanity Fair itself could not have been gayer. To this place came all the pirates and buccaneers that infested those parts, and men shouted and swore and gambled, and poured out money like water, and then maybe wound up their merrymaking by dying of fever. For the sky in these torrid latitudes is all full of clouds overhead, and as hot as any blanket, and when the sun shone forth it streamed down upon the smoking sands so that the houses were ovens and the streets were furnaces; so it was little wonder that men died like rats in a hole. But little they appeared to care for that; so that everywhere you might behold a multitude of painted women and Jews and merchants and pirates, gaudy with red scarfs and gold braid and all sorts of odds and ends of foolish finery, all fighting and gambling and bartering for that ill-gotten treasure of the be-robbed Spaniard. Here, arriving, Captain Morgan found a hearty welcome, and a message from the Governor awaiting him, the message bidding him attend his Excellency upon the earliest occasion that offered. Whereupon, taking our hero (of whom he had grown prodigiously fond) along with him, our pirate went, without any loss of time, to visit Sir Thomas Modiford, who was then the royal Governor of all this devil's brew of wickedness. They found his Excellency seated in a great easy-chair, under the shadow of a slatted veranda, the floor whereof was paved with brick. He was clad, for the sake of coolness, only in his shirt, breeches, and stockings, and he wore slippers on his feet. He was smoking a great cigarro of tobacco, and a goblet of lime-juice and water and rum stood at his elbow on a table. Here, out of the glare of the heat, it was all very cool and pleasant, with a sea-breeze blowing violently in through the slats, setting them a-rattling now and then, and stirring Sir Thomas's long hair, which he had pushed back for the sake of coolness. The purport of this interview, I may tell you, concerned the rescue of one Le Sieur Simon, who, together with his wife and daughter, was held captive by the Spaniards. This gentleman adventurer (Le Sieur Simon) had, a few years before, been set up by the buccaneers as Governor of the island of Santa Catherina. This place, though well fortified by the Spaniards, the buccaneers had seized upon, establishing themselves thereon, and so infesting the commerce of those seas that no Spanish fleet was safe from them. At last the Spaniards, no longer able to endure these assaults against their commerce, sent a great force against the freebooters to drive them out of their island stronghold. This they did, retaking Santa Catherina, together with its Governor, his wife, and daughter, as well as the whole garrison of buccaneers. This garrison were sent by their conquerors, some to the galleys, some to the mines, some to no man knows where. The Governor himself--Le Sieur Simon--was to be sent to Spain, there to stand his trial for piracy. The news of all this, I may tell you, had only just been received in Jamaica, having been brought thither by a Spanish captain, one Don Roderiguez Sylvia, who was, besides, the bearer of despatches to the Spanish authorities relating the whole affair. Such, in fine, was the purport of this interview, and as our hero and his Captain walked back together from the Governor's house to the ordinary where they had taken up their inn, the buccaneer assured his companion that he purposed to obtain those despatches from the Spanish captain that very afternoon, even if he had to use force to seize them. All this, you are to understand, was undertaken only because of the friendship that the Governor and Captain Morgan entertained for Le Sieur Simon. And, indeed, it was wonderful how honest and how faithful were these wicked men in their dealings with one another. For you must know that Governor Modiford and Le Sieur Simon and the buccaneers were all of one kidney--all taking a share in the piracies of those times, and all holding by one another as though they were the honestest men in the world. Hence it was they were all so determined to rescue Le Sieur Simon from the Spaniards. III Having reached his ordinary after his interview with the Governor, Captain Morgan found there a number of his companions, such as usually gathered at that place to be in attendance upon him--some, those belonging to the _Good Samaritan_; others, those who hoped to obtain benefits from him; others, those ragamuffins who gathered around him because he was famous, and because it pleased them to be of his court and to be called his followers. For nearly always your successful pirate had such a little court surrounding him. Finding a dozen or more of these rascals gathered there, Captain Morgan informed them of his present purpose--that he was going to find the Spanish captain to demand his papers of him, and calling upon them to accompany him. With this following at his heels, our buccaneer started off down the street, his lieutenant, a Cornishman named Bartholomew Davis, upon one hand and our hero upon the other. So they paraded the streets for the best part of an hour before they found the Spanish captain. For whether he had got wind that Captain Morgan was searching for him, or whether, finding himself in a place so full of his enemies, he had buried himself in some place of hiding, it is certain that the buccaneers had traversed pretty nearly the whole town before they discovered that he was lying at a certain auberge kept by a Portuguese Jew. Thither they went, and thither Captain Morgan entered with the utmost coolness and composure of demeanor, his followers crowding noisily in at his heels. The space within was very dark, being lighted only by the doorway and by two large slatted windows or openings in the front. In this dark, hot place--not over-roomy at the best--were gathered twelve or fifteen villanous-appearing men, sitting at tables and drinking together, waited upon by the Jew and his wife. Our hero had no trouble in discovering which of this lot of men was Captain Sylvia, for not only did Captain Morgan direct his glance full of war upon him, but the Spaniard was clad with more particularity and with more show of finery than any of the others who were there. Him Captain Morgan approached and demanded his papers, whereunto the other replied with such a jabber of Spanish and English that no man could have understood what he said. To this Captain Morgan in turn replied that he must have those papers, no matter what it might cost him to obtain them, and thereupon drew a pistol from his sling and presented it at the other's head. At this threatening action the innkeeper's wife fell a-screaming, and the Jew, as in a frenzy, besought them not to tear the house down about his ears. Our hero could hardly tell what followed, only that all of a sudden there was a prodigious uproar of combat. Knives flashed everywhere, and then a pistol was fired so close to his head that he stood like one stunned, hearing some one crying out in a loud voice, but not knowing whether it was a friend or a foe who had been shot. Then another pistol-shot so deafened what was left of Master Harry's hearing that his ears rang for above an hour afterwards. By this time the whole place was full of gunpowder smoke, and there was the sound of blows and oaths and outcrying and the clashing of knives. As Master Harry, who had no great stomach for such a combat, and no very particular interest in the quarrel, was making for the door, a little Portuguese, as withered and as nimble as an ape, came ducking under the table and plunged at his stomach with a great long knife, which, had it effected its object, would surely have ended his adventures then and there. Finding himself in such danger, Master Harry snatched up a heavy chair, and, flinging it at his enemy, who was preparing for another attack, he fairly ran for it out of the door, expecting every instant to feel the thrust of the blade betwixt his ribs. A considerable crowd had gathered outside, and others, hearing the uproar, were coming running to join them. With these our hero stood, trembling like a leaf, and with cold chills running up and down his back like water at the narrow escape from the danger that had threatened him. Nor shall you think him a coward, for you must remember he was hardly sixteen years old at the time, and that this was the first affair of the sort he had encountered. Afterwards, as you shall learn, he showed that he could exhibit courage enough at a pinch. While he stood there endeavoring to recover his composure, the while the tumult continued within, suddenly two men came running almost together out of the door, a crowd of the combatants at their heels. The first of these men was Captain Sylvia; the other, who was pursuing him, was Captain Morgan. As the crowd about the door parted before the sudden appearing of these, the Spanish captain, perceiving, as he supposed, a way of escape opened to him, darted across the street with incredible swiftness towards an alleyway upon the other side. Upon this, seeing his prey like to get away from him, Captain Morgan snatched a pistol out of his sling, and resting it for an instant across his arm, fired at the flying Spaniard, and that with so true an aim that, though the street was now full of people, the other went tumbling over and over all of a heap in the kennel, where he lay, after a twitch or two, as still as a log. At the sound of the shot and the fall of the man the crowd scattered upon all sides, yelling and screaming, and the street being thus pretty clear, Captain Morgan ran across the way to where his victim lay, his smoking pistol still in his hand, and our hero following close at his heels. Our poor Harry had never before beheld a man killed thus in an instant who a moment before had been so full of life and activity, for when Captain Morgan turned the body over upon its back he could perceive at a glance, little as he knew of such matters, that the man was stone dead. And, indeed, it was a dreadful sight for him who was hardly more than a child. He stood rooted for he knew not how long, staring down at the dead face with twitching fingers and shuddering limbs. Meantime a great crowd was gathering about them again. As for Captain Morgan, he went about his work with the utmost coolness and deliberation imaginable, unbuttoning the waistcoat and the shirt of the man he had murdered with fingers that neither twitched nor shook. There were a gold cross and a bunch of silver medals hung by a whip-cord about the neck of the dead man. This Captain Morgan broke away with a snap, reaching the jingling baubles to Harry, who took them in his nerveless hand and fingers that he could hardly close upon what they held. The papers Captain Morgan found in a wallet in an inner breast-pocket of the Spaniard's waistcoat. These he examined one by one, and finding them to his satisfaction, tied them up again, and slipped the wallet and its contents into his own pocket. Then for the first time he appeared to observe Master Harry, who, indeed, must have been standing the perfect picture of horror and dismay. Whereupon, bursting out a-laughing, and slipping the pistol he had used back into its sling again, he fetched poor Harry a great slap upon the back, bidding him be a man, for that he would see many such sights as this. But, indeed, it was no laughing matter for poor Master Harry, for it was many a day before his imagination could rid itself of the image of the dead Spaniard's face; and as he walked away down the street with his companions, leaving the crowd behind them, and the dead body where it lay for its friends to look after, his ears humming and ringing from the deafening noise of the pistol-shots fired in the close room, and the sweat trickling down his face in drops, he knew not whether all that had passed had been real, or whether it was a dream from which he might presently awaken. IV The papers Captain Morgan had thus seized upon as the fruit of the murder he had committed must have been as perfectly satisfactory to him as could be, for having paid a second visit that evening to Governor Modiford, the pirate lifted anchor the next morning and made sail towards the Gulf of Darien. There, after cruising about in those waters for about a fortnight without falling in with a vessel of any sort, at the end of that time they overhauled a caravel bound from Puerto Bello to Cartagena, which vessel they took, and finding her loaded with nothing better than raw hides, scuttled and sunk her, being then about twenty leagues from the main of Cartagena. From the captain of this vessel they learned that the plate fleet was then lying in the harbor of Puerto Bello, not yet having set sail thence, but waiting for the change of the winds before embarking for Spain. Besides this, which was a good deal more to their purpose, the Spaniards told the pirates that the Sieur Simon, his wife, and daughter were confined aboard the vice-admiral of that fleet, and that the name of the vice-admiral was the _Santa Maria y Valladolid_. So soon as Captain Morgan had obtained the information he desired he directed his course straight for the Bay of Santo Blaso, where he might lie safely within the cape of that name without any danger of discovery (that part of the main-land being entirely uninhabited) and yet be within twenty or twenty-five leagues of Puerto Bello. Having come safely to this anchorage, he at once declared his intentions to his companions, which were as follows: That it was entirely impossible for them to hope to sail their vessel into the harbor of Puerto Bello, and to attack the Spanish vice-admiral where he lay in the midst of the armed flota; wherefore, if anything was to be accomplished, it must be undertaken by some subtle design rather than by open-handed boldness. Having so prefaced what he had to say, he now declared that it was his purpose to take one of the ship's boats and to go in that to Puerto Bello, trusting for some opportunity to occur to aid him either in the accomplishment of his aims or in the gaining of some further information. Having thus delivered himself, he invited any who dared to do so to volunteer for the expedition, telling them plainly that he would constrain no man to go against his will, for that at best it was a desperate enterprise, possessing only the recommendation that in its achievement the few who undertook it would gain great renown, and perhaps a very considerable booty. And such was the incredible influence of this bold man over his companions, and such was their confidence in his skill and cunning, that not above a dozen of all those aboard hung back from the undertaking, but nearly every man desired to be taken. Of these volunteers Captain Morgan chose twenty--among others our Master Harry--and having arranged with his lieutenant that if nothing was heard from the expedition at the end of three days he should sail for Jamaica to await news, he embarked upon that enterprise, which, though never heretofore published, was perhaps the boldest and the most desperate of all those that have since made his name so famous. For what could be a more unparalleled undertaking than for a little open boat, containing but twenty men, to enter the harbor of the third strongest fortress of the Spanish mainland with the intention of cutting out the Spanish vice-admiral from the midst of a whole fleet of powerfully armed vessels, and how many men in all the world do you suppose would venture such a thing? But there is this to be said of that great buccaneer: that if he undertook enterprises so desperate as this, he yet laid his plans so well that they never went altogether amiss. Moreover, the very desperation of his successes was of such a nature that no man could suspect that he would dare to undertake such things, and accordingly his enemies were never prepared to guard against his attacks. Aye, had he but worn the King's colors and served under the rules of honest war, he might have become as great and as renowned as Admiral Blake himself! But all that is neither here nor there; what I have to tell you now is that Captain Morgan in this open boat with his twenty mates reached the Cape of Salmedina towards the fall of day. Arriving within view of the harbor they discovered the plate fleet at anchor, with two men-of-war and an armed galley riding as a guard at the mouth of the harbor, scarce half a league distant from the other ships. Having spied the fleet in this posture, the pirates presently pulled down their sails and rowed along the coast, feigning to be a Spanish vessel from Nombre de Dios. So hugging the shore, they came boldly within the harbor, upon the opposite side of which you might see the fortress a considerable distance away. Being now come so near to the consummation of their adventure, Captain Morgan required every man to make an oath to stand by him to the last, whereunto our hero swore as heartily as any man aboard, although his heart, I must needs confess, was beating at a great rate at the approach of what was to happen. Having thus received the oaths of all his followers, Captain Morgan commanded the surgeon of the expedition that, when the order was given, he, the medico, was to bore six holes in the boat, so that, it sinking under them, they might all be compelled to push forward, with no chance of retreat. And such was the ascendency of this man over his followers, and such was their awe of him, that not one of them uttered even so much as a murmur, though what he had commanded the surgeon to do pledged them either to victory or to death, with no chance to choose between. Nor did the surgeon question the orders he had received, much less did he dream of disobeying them. By now it had fallen pretty dusk, whereupon, spying two fishermen in a canoe at a little distance, Captain Morgan demanded of them in Spanish which vessel of those at anchor in the harbor was the vice-admiral, for that he had despatches for the captain thereof. Whereupon the fishermen, suspecting nothing, pointed to them a galleon of great size riding at anchor not half a league distant. Towards this vessel accordingly the pirates directed their course, and when they had come pretty nigh, Captain Morgan called upon the surgeon that now it was time for him to perform the duty that had been laid upon him. Whereupon the other did as he was ordered, and that so thoroughly that the water presently came gushing into the boat in great streams, whereat all hands pulled for the galleon as though every next moment was to be their last. And what do you suppose were our hero's emotions at this time? Like all in the boat, his awe of Captain Morgan was so great that I do believe he would rather have gone to the bottom than have questioned his command, even when it was to scuttle the boat. Nevertheless, when he felt the cold water gushing about his feet (for he had taken off his shoes and stockings) he became possessed with such a fear of being drowned that even the Spanish galleon had no terrors for him if he could only feel the solid planks thereof beneath his feet. Indeed, all the crew appeared to be possessed of a like dismay, for they pulled at the oars with such an incredible force that they were under the quarter of the galleon before the boat was half filled with water. Here, as they approached, it then being pretty dark and the moon not yet having risen, the watch upon the deck hailed them, whereupon Captain Morgan called out in Spanish that he was Captain Alvarez Mendazo, and that he brought despatches for the vice-admiral. But at that moment, the boat being now so full of water as to be logged, it suddenly tilted upon one side as though to sink beneath them, whereupon all hands, without further orders, went scrambling up the side, as nimble as so many monkeys, each armed with a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other, and so were upon deck before the watch could collect his wits to utter any outcry or to give any other alarm than to cry out, "Jesu bless us! who are these?" at which words somebody knocked him down with the butt of a pistol, though who it was our hero could not tell in the darkness and the hurry. Before any of those upon deck could recover from their alarm or those from below come up upon deck, a part of the pirates, under the carpenter and the surgeon, had run to the gunroom and had taken possession of the arms, while Captain Morgan, with Master Harry and a Portuguese called Murillo Braziliano, had flown with the speed of the wind into the great cabin. Here they found the captain of the vice-admiral playing at cards with the Sieur Simon and a friend, Madam Simon and her daughter being present. Captain Morgan instantly set his pistol at the breast of the Spanish captain, swearing with a most horrible fierce countenance that if he spake a word or made any outcry he was a dead man. As for our hero, having now got his hand into the game, he performed the same service for the Spaniard's friend, declaring he would shoot him dead if he opened his lips or lifted so much as a single finger. All this while the ladies, not comprehending what had occurred, had sat as mute as stones; but now having so far recovered themselves as to find a voice, the younger of the two fell to screaming, at which the Sieur Simon called out to her to be still, for these were friends who had come to help them, and not enemies who had come to harm them. All this, you are to understand, occupied only a little while, for in less than a minute three or four of the pirates had come into the cabin, who, together with the Portuguese, proceeded at once to bind the two Spaniards hand and foot, and to gag them. This being done to our buccaneer's satisfaction, and the Spanish captain being stretched out in the corner of the cabin, he instantly cleared his countenance of its terrors, and bursting forth into a great loud laugh, clapped his hand to the Sieur Simon's, which he wrung with the best will in the world. Having done this, and being in a fine humor after this his first success, he turned to the two ladies. "And this, ladies," said he, taking our hero by the hand and presenting him, "is a young gentleman who has embarked with me to learn the trade of piracy. I recommend him to your politeness." Think what a confusion this threw our Master Harry into, to be sure, who at his best was never easy in the company of strange ladies! You may suppose what must have been his emotions to find himself thus introduced to the attention of Madam Simon and her daughter, being at the time in his bare feet, clad only in his shirt and breeches, and with no hat upon his head, a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other. However, he was not left for long to his embarrassments, for almost immediately after he had thus far relaxed, Captain Morgan fell of a sudden serious again, and bidding the Sieur Simon to get his ladies away into some place of safety, for the most hazardous part of this adventure was yet to occur, he quitted the cabin with Master Harry and the other pirates (for you may call him a pirate now) at his heels. Having come upon deck, our hero beheld that a part of the Spanish crew were huddled forward in a flock like so many sheep (the others being crowded below with the hatches fastened upon them), and such was the terror of the pirates, and so dreadful the name of Henry Morgan, that not one of those poor wretches dared to lift up his voice to give any alarm, nor even to attempt an escape by jumping overboard. At Captain Morgan's orders, these men, together with certain of his own company, ran nimbly aloft and began setting the sails, which, the night now having fallen pretty thick, was not for a good while observed by any of the vessels riding at anchor about them. Indeed, the pirates might have made good their escape, with at most only a shot or two from the men-of-war, had it not then been about the full of the moon, which, having arisen, presently discovered to those of the fleet that lay closest about them what was being done aboard the vice-admiral. At this one of the vessels hailed them, and then after a while, having no reply, hailed them again. Even then the Spaniards might not immediately have suspected anything was amiss but only that the vice-admiral for some reason best known to himself was shifting his anchorage, had not one of the Spaniards aloft--but who it was Captain Morgan was never able to discover--answered the hail by crying out that the vice-admiral had been seized by the pirates. At this the alarm was instantly given and the mischief done, for presently there was a tremendous bustle through that part of the fleet lying nighest the vice-admiral--a deal of shouting of orders, a beating of drums, and the running hither and thither of the crews. But by this time the sails of the vice-admiral had filled with a strong land breeze that was blowing up the harbor, whereupon the carpenter, at Captain Morgan's orders, having cut away both anchors, the galleon presently bore away up the harbor, gathering headway every moment with the wind nearly dead astern. The nearest vessel was the only one that for the moment was able to offer any hinderance. This ship, having by this time cleared away one of its guns, was able to fire a parting shot against the vice-admiral, striking her somewhere forward, as our hero could see by a great shower of splinters that flew up in the moonlight. At the sound of the shot all the vessels of the flota not yet disturbed by the alarm were aroused at once, so that the pirates had the satisfaction of knowing that they would have to run the gantlet of all the ships between them and the open sea before they could reckon themselves escaped. And, indeed, to our hero's mind it seemed that the battle which followed must have been the most terrific cannonade that was ever heard in the world. It was not so ill at first, for it was some while before the Spaniards could get their guns clear for action, they being not the least in the world prepared for such an occasion as this. But by-and-by first one and then another ship opened fire upon the galleon, until it seemed to our hero that all the thunders of heaven let loose upon them could not have created a more prodigious uproar, and that it was not possible that they could any of them escape destruction. By now the moon had risen full and round, so that the clouds of smoke that rose in the air appeared as white as snow. The air seemed full of the hiss and screaming of shot, each one of which, when it struck the galleon, was magnified by our hero's imagination into ten times its magnitude from the crash which it delivered and from the cloud of splinters it would cast up into the moonlight. At last he suddenly beheld one poor man knocked sprawling across the deck, who, as he raised his arm from behind the mast, disclosed that the hand was gone from it, and that the shirt-sleeve was red with blood in the moonlight. At this sight all the strength fell away from poor Harry, and he felt sure that a like fate or even a worse must be in store for him. But, after all, this was nothing to what it might have been in broad daylight, for what with the darkness of night, and the little preparation the Spaniards could make for such a business, and the extreme haste with which they discharged their guns (many not understanding what was the occasion of all this uproar), nearly all the shot flew so wide of the mark that not above one in twenty struck that at which it was aimed. Meantime Captain Morgan, with the Sieur Simon, who had followed him upon deck, stood just above where our hero lay behind the shelter of the bulwark. The captain had lit a pipe of tobacco, and he stood now in the bright moonlight close to the rail, with his hands behind him, looking out ahead with the utmost coolness imaginable, and paying no more attention to the din of battle than though it were twenty leagues away. Now and then he would take his pipe from his lips to utter an order to the man at the wheel. Excepting this he stood there hardly moving at all, the wind blowing his long red hair over his shoulders. Had it not been for the armed galley the pirates might have got the galleon away with no great harm done in spite of all this cannonading, for the man-of-war which rode at anchor nighest to them at the mouth of the harbor was still so far away that they might have passed it by hugging pretty close to the shore, and that without any great harm being done to them in the darkness. But just at this moment, when the open water lay in sight, came this galley pulling out from behind the point of the shore in such a manner as either to head our pirates off entirely or else to compel them to approach so near to the man-of-war that that latter vessel could bring its guns to bear with more effect. This galley, I must tell you, was like others of its kind such as you may find in these waters, the hull being long and cut low to the water so as to allow the oars to dip freely. The bow was sharp and projected far out ahead, mounting a swivel upon it, while at the stern a number of galleries built one above another into a castle gave shelter to several companies of musketeers as well as the officers commanding them. Our hero could behold the approach of this galley from above the starboard bulwarks, and it appeared to him impossible for them to hope to escape either it or the man-of-war. But still Captain Morgan maintained the same composure that he had exhibited all the while, only now and then delivering an order to the man at the wheel, who, putting the helm over, threw the bows of the galleon around more to the larboard, as though to escape the bow of the galley and get into the open water beyond. This course brought the pirates ever closer and closer to the man-of-war, which now began to add its thunder to the din of the battle, and with so much more effect that at every discharge you might hear the crashing and crackling of splintered wood, and now and then the outcry or groaning of some man who was hurt. Indeed, had it been daylight, they must at this juncture all have perished, though, as was said, what with the night and the confusion and the hurry, they escaped entire destruction, though more by a miracle than through any policy upon their own part. Meantime the galley, steering as though to come aboard of them, had now come so near that it, too, presently began to open its musketry fire upon them, so that the humming and rattling of bullets were presently added to the din of cannonading. In two minutes more it would have been aboard of them, when in a moment Captain Morgan roared out of a sudden to the man at the helm to put it hard a starboard. In response the man ran the wheel over with the utmost quickness, and the galleon, obeying her helm very readily, came around upon a course which, if continued, would certainly bring them into collision with their enemy. It is possible at first the Spaniards imagined the pirates intended to escape past their stern, for they instantly began backing oars to keep them from getting past, so that the water was all of a foam about them; at the same time they did this they poured in such a fire of musketry that it was a miracle that no more execution was accomplished than happened. As for our hero, methinks for the moment he forgot all about everything else than as to whether or no his captain's manoeuvre would succeed, for in the very first moment he divined, as by some instinct, what Captain Morgan purposed doing. At this moment, so particular in the execution of this nice design, a bullet suddenly struck down the man at the wheel. Hearing the sharp outcry, our Harry turned to see him fall forward, and then to his hands and knees upon the deck, the blood running in a black pool beneath him, while the wheel, escaping from his hands, spun over until the spokes were all of a mist. In a moment the ship would have fallen off before the wind had not our hero, leaping to the wheel (even as Captain Morgan shouted an order for some one to do so), seized the flying spokes, whirling them back again, and so bringing the bow of the galleon up to its former course. [Illustration: "OUR HERO, LEAPING TO THE WHEEL, SEIZED THE FLYING SPOKES"] In the first moment of this effort he had reckoned of nothing but of carrying out his captain's designs. He neither thought of cannon-balls nor of bullets. But now that his task was accomplished, he came suddenly back to himself to find the galleries of the galleon aflame with musket-shots, and to become aware with a most horrible sinking of the spirits that all the shots therefrom were intended for him. He cast his eyes about him with despair, but no one came to ease him of his task, which, having undertaken, he had too much spirit to resign from carrying through to the end, though he was well aware that the very next instant might mean his sudden and violent death. His ears hummed and rang, and his brain swam as light as a feather. I know not whether he breathed, but he shut his eyes tight as though that might save him from the bullets that were raining about him. At this moment the Spaniards must have discovered for the first time the pirates' design, for of a sudden they ceased firing, and began to shout out a multitude of orders, while the oars lashed the water all about with a foam. But it was too late then for them to escape, for within a couple of seconds the galleon struck her enemy a blow so violent upon the larboard quarter as nearly to hurl our Harry upon the deck, and then with a dreadful, horrible crackling of wood, commingled with a yelling of men's voices, the galley was swung around upon her side, and the galleon, sailing into the open sea, left nothing of her immediate enemy but a sinking wreck, and the water dotted all over with bobbing heads and waving hands in the moonlight. And now, indeed, that all danger was past and gone, there were plenty to come running to help our hero at the wheel. As for Captain Morgan, having come down upon the main-deck, he fetches the young helmsman a clap upon the back. "Well, Master Harry," says he, "and did I not tell you I would make a man of you?" Whereat our poor Harry fell a-laughing, but with a sad catch in his voice, for his hands trembled as with an ague, and were as cold as ice. As for his emotions, God knows he was nearer crying than laughing, if Captain Morgan had but known it. Nevertheless, though undertaken under the spur of the moment, I protest it was indeed a brave deed, and I cannot but wonder how many young gentlemen of sixteen there are to-day who, upon a like occasion, would act as well as our Harry. V The balance of our hero's adventures were of a lighter sort than those already recounted, for the next morning, the Spanish captain (a very polite and well-bred gentleman) having fitted him out with a suit of his own clothes, Master Harry was presented in a proper form to the ladies. For Captain Morgan, if he had felt a liking for the young man before, could not now show sufficient regard for him. He ate in the great cabin and was petted by all. Madam Simon, who was a fat and red-faced lady, was forever praising him, and the young miss, who was extremely well-looking, was as continually making eyes at him. She and Master Harry, I must tell you, would spend hours together, she making pretence of teaching him French, although he was so possessed with a passion of love that he was nigh suffocated with it. She, upon her part, perceiving his emotions, responded with extreme good-nature and complacency, so that had our hero been older, and the voyage proved longer, he might have become entirely enmeshed in the toils of his fair siren. For all this while, you are to understand, the pirates were making sail straight for Jamaica, which they reached upon the third day in perfect safety. [Illustration: "SHE AND MASTER HARRY WOULD SPEND HOURS TOGETHER"] In that time, however, the pirates had well-nigh gone crazy for joy; for when they came to examine their purchase they discovered her cargo to consist of plate to the prodigious sum of £130,000 in value. 'Twas a wonder they did not all make themselves drunk for joy. No doubt they would have done so had not Captain Morgan, knowing they were still in the exact track of the Spanish fleets, threatened them that the first man among them who touched a drop of rum without his permission he would shoot him dead upon the deck. This threat had such effect that they all remained entirely sober until they had reached Port Royal Harbor, which they did about nine o'clock in the morning. And now it was that our hero's romance came all tumbling down about his ears with a run. For they had hardly come to anchor in the harbor when a boat came from a man-of-war, and who should come stepping aboard but Lieutenant Grantley (a particular friend of our hero's father) and his own eldest brother Thomas, who, putting on a very stern face, informed Master Harry that he was a desperate and hardened villain who was sure to end at the gallows, and that he was to go immediately back to his home again. He told our embryo pirate that his family had nigh gone distracted because of his wicked and ungrateful conduct. Nor could our hero move him from his inflexible purpose. "What," says our Harry, "and will you not then let me wait until our prize is divided and I get my share?" "Prize, indeed!" says his brother. "And do you then really think that your father would consent to your having a share in this terrible bloody and murthering business?" And so, after a good deal of argument, our hero was constrained to go; nor did he even have an opportunity to bid adieu to his inamorata. Nor did he see her any more, except from a distance, she standing on the poop-deck as he was rowed away from her, her face all stained with crying. For himself, he felt that there was no more joy in life; nevertheless, standing up in the stern of the boat, he made shift, though with an aching heart, to deliver her a fine bow with the hat he had borrowed from the Spanish captain, before his brother bade him sit down again. And so to the ending of this story, with only this to relate, that our Master Harry, so far from going to the gallows, became in good time a respectable and wealthy sugar merchant with an English wife and a fine family of children, whereunto, when the mood was upon him, he has sometimes told these adventures (and sundry others not here recounted) as I have told them unto you. II. TOM CHIST AND THE TREASURE-BOX _An Old-time Story of the Days of Captain Kidd._ To tell about Tom Chist, and how he got his name, and how he came to be living at the little settlement of Henlopen, just inside the mouth of the Delaware Bay, the story must begin as far back as 1686, when a great storm swept the Atlantic coast from end to end. During the heaviest part of the hurricane a bark went ashore on the Hen-and-Chicken Shoals, just below Cape Henlopen and at the mouth of the Delaware Bay, and Tom Chist was the only soul of all those on board the ill-fated vessel who escaped alive. This story must first be told, because it was on account of the strange and miraculous escape that happened to him at that time that he gained the name that was given to him. Even as late as that time of the American colonies, the little scattered settlement at Henlopen, made up of English, with a few Dutch and Swedish people, was still only a spot upon the face of the great American wilderness that spread away, with swamp and forest, no man knew how far to the westward. That wilderness was not only full of wild beasts, but of Indian savages, who every fall would come in wandering tribes to spend the winter along the shores of the fresh-water lakes below Henlopen. There for four or five months they would live upon fish and clams and wild ducks and geese, chipping their arrow-heads, and making their earthenware pots and pans under the lee of the sand-hills and pine woods below the Capes. Sometimes on Sundays, when the Rev. Hillary Jones would be preaching in the little log church back in the woods, these half-clad red savages would come in from the cold, and sit squatting in the back part of the church, listening stolidly to the words that had no meaning for them. But about the wreck of the bark in 1686. Such a wreck as that which then went ashore on the Hen-and-Chicken Shoals was a godsend to the poor and needy settlers in the wilderness where so few good things ever came. For the vessel went to pieces during the night, and the next morning the beach was strewn with wreckage--boxes and barrels, chests and spars, timbers and planks, a plentiful and bountiful harvest to be gathered up by the settlers as they chose, with no one to forbid or prevent them. The name of the bark, as found painted on some of the water-barrels and sea-chests, was the _Bristol Merchant_, and she no doubt hailed from England. As was said, the only soul who escaped alive off the wreck was Tom Chist. A settler, a fisherman named Matt Abrahamson, and his daughter Molly, found Tom. He was washed up on the beach among the wreckage, in a great wooden box which had been securely tied around with a rope and lashed between two spars--apparently for better protection in beating through the surf. Matt Abrahamson thought he had found something of more than usual value when he came upon this chest; but when he cut the cords and broke open the box with his broadaxe, he could not have been more astonished had he beheld a salamander instead of a baby of nine or ten months old lying half smothered in the blankets that covered the bottom of the chest. Matt Abrahamson's daughter Molly had had a baby who had died a month or so before. So when she saw the little one lying there in the bottom of the chest, she cried out in a great loud voice that the Good Man had sent her another baby in place of her own. The rain was driving before the hurricane-storm in dim, slanting sheets, and so she wrapped up the baby in the man's coat she wore and ran off home without waiting to gather up any more of the wreckage. It was Parson Jones who gave the foundling his name. When the news came to his ears of what Matt Abrahamson had found, he went over to the fisherman's cabin to see the child. He examined the clothes in which the baby was dressed. They were of fine linen and handsomely stitched, and the reverend gentleman opined that the foundling's parents must have been of quality. A kerchief had been wrapped around the baby's neck and under its arms and tied behind, and in the corner, marked with very fine needlework, were the initials T.C. "What d'ye call him, Molly?" said Parson Jones. He was standing, as he spoke, with his back to the fire, warming his palms before the blaze. The pocket of the great-coat he wore bulged out with a big case-bottle of spirits which he had gathered up out of the wreck that afternoon. "What d'ye call him, Molly?" "I'll call him Tom, after my own baby." "That goes very well with the initial on the kerchief," said Parson Jones. "But what other name d'ye give him? Let it be something to go with the C." "I don't know," said Molly. "Why not call him 'Chist,' since he was born in a chist out of the sea? 'Tom Chist'--the name goes off like a flash in the pan." And so "Tom Chist" he was called and "Tom Chist" he was christened. So much for the beginning of the history of Tom Chist. The story of Captain Kidd's treasure-box does not begin until the late spring of 1699. That was the year that the famous pirate captain, coming up from the West Indies, sailed his sloop into the Delaware Bay, where he lay for over a month waiting for news from his friends in New York. For he had sent word to that town asking if the coast was clear for him to return home with the rich prize he had brought from the Indian seas and the coast of Africa, and meantime he lay there in the Delaware Bay waiting for a reply. Before he left he turned the whole of Tom Chist's life topsy-turvy with something that he brought ashore. By that time Tom Chist had grown into a strong-limbed, thick-jointed boy of fourteen or fifteen years of age. It was a miserable dog's life he lived with old Matt Abrahamson, for the old fisherman was in his cups more than half the time, and when he was so there was hardly a day passed that he did not give Tom a curse or a buffet or, as like as not, an actual beating. One would have thought that such treatment would have broken the spirit of the poor little foundling, but it had just the opposite effect upon Tom Chist, who was one of your stubborn, sturdy, stiff-willed fellows who only grow harder and more tough the more they are ill-treated. It had been a long time now since he had made any outcry or complaint at the hard usage he suffered from old Matt. At such times he would shut his teeth and bear whatever came to him, until sometimes the half-drunken old man would be driven almost mad by his stubborn silence. Maybe he would stop in the midst of the beating he was administering, and, grinding his teeth, would cry out: "Won't ye say naught? Won't ye say naught? Well, then, I'll see if I can't make ye say naught." When things had reached such a pass as this Molly would generally interfere to protect her foster-son, and then she and Tom would together fight the old man until they had wrenched the stick or the strap out of his hand. Then old Matt would chase them out-of-doors and around and around the house for maybe half an hour until his anger was cool, when he would go back again, and for a time the storm would be over. Besides his foster-mother, Tom Chist had a very good friend in Parson Jones, who used to come over every now and then to Abrahamson's hut upon the chance of getting a half-dozen fish for breakfast. He always had a kind word or two for Tom, who during the winter evenings would go over to the good man's house to learn his letters, and to read and write and cipher a little, so that by now he was able to spell the words out of the Bible and the almanac, and knew enough to change tuppence into four ha'pennies. This is the sort of boy Tom Chist was, and this is the sort of life he led. In the late spring or early summer of 1699 Captain Kidd's sloop sailed into the mouth of the Delaware Bay and changed the whole fortune of his life. And this is how you come to the story of Captain Kidd's treasure-box. II Old Matt Abrahamson kept the flat-bottomed boat in which he went fishing some distance down the shore, and in the neighborhood of the old wreck that had been sunk on the Shoals. This was the usual fishing-ground of the settlers, and here Old Matt's boat generally lay drawn up on the sand. There had been a thunder-storm that afternoon, and Tom had gone down the beach to bale out the boat in readiness for the morning's fishing. It was full moonlight now, as he was returning, and the night sky was full of floating clouds. Now and then there was a dull flash to the westward, and once a muttering growl of thunder, promising another storm to come. All that day the pirate sloop had been lying just off the shore back of the Capes, and now Tom Chist could see the sails glimmering pallidly in the moonlight, spread for drying after the storm. He was walking up the shore homeward when he became aware that at some distance ahead of him there was a ship's boat drawn up on the little narrow beach, and a group of men clustered about it. He hurried forward with a good deal of curiosity to see who had landed, but it was not until he had come close to them that he could distinguish who and what they were. Then he knew that it must be a party who had come off the pirate sloop. They had evidently just landed, and two men were lifting out a chest from the boat. One of them was a negro, naked to the waist, and the other was a white man in his shirt-sleeves, wearing petticoat breeches, a Monterey cap upon his head, a red bandanna handkerchief around his neck, and gold ear-rings in his ears. He had a long, plaited queue hanging down his back, and a great sheath-knife dangling from his side. Another man, evidently the captain of the party, stood at a little distance as they lifted the chest out of the boat. He had a cane in one hand and a lighted lantern in the other, although the moon was shining as bright as day. He wore jack-boots and a handsome laced coat, and he had a long, drooping mustache that curled down below his chin. He wore a fine, feathered hat, and his long black hair hung down upon his shoulders. All this Tom Chist could see in the moonlight that glinted and twinkled upon the gilt buttons of his coat. They were so busy lifting the chest from the boat that at first they did not observe that Tom Chist had come up and was standing there. It was the white man with the long, plaited queue and the gold ear-rings that spoke to him. "Boy, what do you want here, boy?" he said, in a rough, hoarse voice. "Where d'ye come from?" And then dropping his end of the chest, and without giving Tom time to answer, he pointed off down the beach, and said, "You'd better be going about your own business, if you know what's good for you; and don't you come back, or you'll find what you don't want waiting for you." Tom saw in a glance that the pirates were all looking at him, and then, without saying a word, he turned and walked away. The man who had spoken to him followed him threateningly for some little distance, as though to see that he had gone away as he was bidden to do. But presently he stopped, and Tom hurried on alone, until the boat and the crew and all were dropped away behind and lost in the moonlight night. Then he himself stopped also, turned, and looked back whence he had come. There had been something very strange in the appearance of the men he had just seen, something very mysterious in their actions, and he wondered what it all meant, and what they were going to do. He stood for a little while thus looking and listening. He could see nothing, and could hear only the sound of distant talking. What were they doing on the lonely shore thus at night? Then, following a sudden impulse, he turned and cut off across the sand-hummocks, skirting around inland, but keeping pretty close to the shore, his object being to spy upon them, and to watch what they were about from the back of the low sand-hills that fronted the beach. He had gone along some distance in his circuitous return when he became aware of the sound of voices that seemed to be drawing closer to him as he came towards the speakers. He stopped and stood listening, and instantly, as he stopped, the voices stopped also. He crouched there silently in the bright, glimmering moonlight, surrounded by the silent stretches of sand, and the stillness seemed to press upon him like a heavy hand. Then suddenly the sound of a man's voice began again, and as Tom listened he could hear some one slowly counting. "Ninety-one," the voice began, "ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred, one hundred and one"--the slow, monotonous count coming nearer and nearer to him--"one hundred and two, one hundred and three, one hundred and four," and so on in its monotonous reckoning. Suddenly he saw three heads appear above the sand-hill, so close to him that he crouched down quickly with a keen thrill, close beside the hummock near which he stood. His first fear was that they might have seen him in the moonlight; but they had not, and his heart rose again as the counting voice went steadily on. "One hundred and twenty," it was saying--"and twenty-one, and twenty-two, and twenty-three, and twenty-four," and then he who was counting came out from behind the little sandy rise into the white and open level of shimmering brightness. [Illustration: "'... AND TWENTY-ONE AND TWENTY-TWO'"] It was the man with the cane whom Tom had seen some time before--the captain of the party who had landed. He carried his cane under his arm now, and was holding his lantern close to something that he held in his hand, and upon which he looked narrowly as he walked with a slow and measured tread in a perfectly straight line across the sand, counting each step as he took it. "And twenty-five, and twenty-six, and twenty-seven, and twenty-eight, and twenty-nine, and thirty." Behind him walked two other figures; one was the half-naked negro, the other the man with the plaited queue and the ear-rings, whom Tom had seen lifting the chest out of the boat. Now they were carrying the heavy box between them, laboring through the sand with shuffling tread as they bore it onward. As he who was counting pronounced the word "thirty," the two men set the chest down on the sand with a grunt, the white man panting and blowing and wiping his sleeve across his forehead. And immediately he who counted took out a slip of paper and marked something down upon it. They stood there for a long time, during which Tom lay behind the sand-hummock watching them, and for a while the silence was uninterrupted. In the perfect stillness Tom could hear the washing of the little waves beating upon the distant beach, and once the far-away sound of a laugh from one of those who stood by the ship's boat. One, two, three minutes passed, and then the men picked up the chest and started on again; and then again the other man began his counting. "Thirty and one, and thirty and two, and thirty and three, and thirty and four"--he walked straight across the level open, still looking intently at that which he held in his hand--"and thirty and five, and thirty and six, and thirty and seven," and so on, until the three figures disappeared in the little hollow between the two sand-hills on the opposite side of the open, and still Tom could hear the sound of the counting voice in the distance. Just as they disappeared behind the hill there was a sudden faint flash of light; and by-and-by, as Tom lay still listening to the counting, he heard, after a long interval, a far-away muffled rumble of distant thunder. He waited for a while, and then arose and stepped to the top of the sand-hummock behind which he had been lying. He looked all about him, but there was no one else to be seen. Then he stepped down from the hummock and followed in the direction which the pirate captain and the two men carrying the chest had gone. He crept along cautiously, stopping now and then to make sure that he still heard the counting voice, and when it ceased he lay down upon the sand and waited until it began again. Presently, so following the pirates, he saw the three figures again in the distance, and, skirting around back of a hill of sand covered with coarse sedge-grass, he came to where he overlooked a little open level space gleaming white in the moonlight. The three had been crossing the level of sand, and were now not more than twenty-five paces from him. They had again set down the chest, upon which the white man with the long queue and the gold ear-rings had seated to rest himself, the negro standing close beside him. The moon shone as bright as day and full upon his face. It was looking directly at Tom Chist, every line as keen cut with white lights and black shadows as though it had been carved in ivory and jet. He sat perfectly motionless, and Tom drew back with a start, almost thinking he had been discovered. He lay silent, his heart beating heavily in his throat; but there was no alarm, and presently he heard the counting begin again, and when he looked once more he saw they were going away straight across the little open. A soft, sliding hillock of sand lay directly in front of them. They did not turn aside, but went straight over it, the leader helping himself up the sandy slope with his cane, still counting and still keeping his eyes fixed upon that which he held in his hand. Then they disappeared again behind the white crest on the other side. So Tom followed them cautiously until they had gone almost half a mile inland. When next he saw them clearly it was from a little sandy rise which looked down like the crest of a bowl upon the floor of sand below. Upon this smooth, white floor the moon beat with almost dazzling brightness. The white man who had helped to carry the chest was now kneeling, busied at some work, though what it was Tom at first could not see. He was whittling the point of a stick into a long wooden peg, and when, by-and-by, he had finished what he was about, he arose and stepped to where he who seemed to be the captain had stuck his cane upright into the ground as though to mark some particular spot. He drew the cane out of the sand, thrusting the stick down in its stead. Then he drove the long peg down with a wooden mallet which the negro handed to him. The sharp rapping of the mallet upon the top of the peg sounded loud in the perfect stillness, and Tom lay watching and wondering what it all meant. The man, with quick-repeated blows, drove the peg farther and farther down into the sand until it showed only two or three inches above the surface. As he finished his work there was another faint flash of light, and by-and-by another smothered rumble of thunder, and Tom as he looked out towards the westward, saw the silver rim of the round and sharply outlined thundercloud rising slowly up into the sky and pushing the other and broken drifting clouds before it. The two white men were now stooping over the peg, the negro man watching them. Then presently the man with the cane started straight away from the peg, carrying the end of a measuring-line with him, the other end of which the man with the plaited queue held against the top of the peg. When the pirate captain had reached the end of the measuring-line he marked a cross upon the sand, and then again they measured out another stretch of space. So they measured a distance five times over, and then, from where Tom lay, he could see the man with the queue drive another peg just at the foot of a sloping rise of sand that swept up beyond into a tall white dune marked sharp and clear against the night sky behind. As soon as the man with the plaited queue had driven the second peg into the ground they began measuring again, and so, still measuring, disappeared in another direction which took them in behind the sand-dune, where Tom no longer could see what they were doing. The negro still sat by the chest where the two had left him, and so bright was the moonlight that from where he lay Tom could see the glint of it twinkling in the whites of his eyeballs. Presently from behind the hill there came, for the third time, the sharp rapping sound of the mallet driving still another peg, and then after a while the two pirates emerged from behind the sloping whiteness into the space of moonlight again. They came direct to where the chest lay, and the white man and the black man lifting it once more, they walked away across the level of open sand, and so on behind the edge of the hill and out of Tom's sight. III Tom Chist could no longer see what the pirates were doing, neither did he dare to cross over the open space of sand that now lay between them and him. He lay there speculating as to what they were about, and meantime the storm cloud was rising higher and higher above the horizon, with louder and louder mutterings of thunder following each dull flash from out the cloudy, cavernous depths. In the silence he could hear an occasional click as of some iron implement, and he opined that the pirates were burying the chest, though just where they were at work he could neither see nor tell. Still he lay there watching and listening, and by-and-by a puff of warm air blew across the sand, and a thumping tumble of louder thunder leaped from out the belly of the storm cloud, which every minute was coming nearer and nearer. Still Tom Chist lay watching. Suddenly, almost unexpectedly, the three figures reappeared from behind the sand-hill, the pirate captain leading the way, and the negro and white man following close behind him. They had gone about half-way across the white, sandy level between the hill and the hummock behind which Tom Chist lay, when the white man stopped and bent over as though to tie his shoe. This brought the negro a few steps in front of his companion. That which then followed happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, so swiftly, that Tom Chist had hardly time to realize what it all meant before it was over. As the negro passed him the white man arose suddenly and silently erect, and Tom Chist saw the white moonlight glint upon the blade of a great dirk-knife which he now held in his hand. He took one, two silent, catlike steps behind the unsuspecting negro. Then there was a sweeping flash of the blade in the pallid light, and a blow, the thump of which Tom could distinctly hear even from where he lay stretched out upon the sand. There was an instant echoing yell from the black man, who ran stumbling forward, who stopped, who regained his footing, and then stood for an instant as though rooted to the spot. Tom had distinctly seen the knife enter his back, and even thought that he had seen the glint of the point as it came out from the breast. Meantime the pirate captain had stopped, and now stood with his hand resting upon his cane looking impassively on. Then the black man started to run. The white man stood for a while glaring after him; then he too started after his victim upon the run. The black man was not very far from Tom when he staggered and fell. He tried to rise, then fell forward again, and lay at length. At that instant the first edge of the cloud cut across the moon, and there was a sudden darkness; but in the silence Tom heard the sound of another blow and a groan, and then presently a voice calling to the pirate captain that it was all over. He saw the dim form of the captain crossing the level sand, and then, as the moon sailed out from behind the cloud, he saw the white man standing over a black figure that lay motionless upon the sand. Then Tom Chist scrambled up and ran away, plunging down into the hollow of sand that lay in the shadows below. Over the next rise he ran, and down again into the next black hollow, and so on over the sliding, shifting ground, panting and gasping. It seemed to him that he could hear footsteps following, and in the terror that possessed him he almost expected every instant to feel the cold knife-blade slide between his own ribs in such a thrust from behind as he had seen given to the poor black man. So he ran on like one in a nightmare. His feet grew heavy like lead, he panted and gasped, his breath came hot and dry in his throat. But still he ran and ran until at last he found himself in front of old Matt Abrahamson's cabin, gasping, panting, and sobbing for breath, his knees relaxed and his thighs trembling with weakness. As he opened the door and dashed into the darkened cabin (for both Matt and Molly were long ago asleep in bed) there was a flash of light, and even as he slammed to the door behind him there was an instant peal of thunder, heavy as though a great weight had been dropped upon the roof of the sky, so that the doors and windows of the cabin rattled. IV Then Tom Chist crept to bed, trembling, shuddering, bathed in sweat, his heart beating like a trip-hammer, and his brain dizzy from that long, terror-inspired race through the soft sand in which he had striven to outstrip he knew not what pursuing horror. For a long, long time he lay awake, trembling and chattering with nervous chills, and when he did fall asleep it was only to drop into monstrous dreams in which he once again saw ever enacted, with various grotesque variations, the tragic drama which his waking eyes had beheld the night before. Then came the dawning of the broad, wet daylight, and before the rising of the sun Tom was up and out-of-doors to find the young day dripping with the rain of overnight. His first act was to climb the nearest sandhill and to gaze out towards the offing where the pirate ship had been the day before. It was no longer there. Soon afterwards Matt Abrahamson came out of the cabin and he called to Tom to go get a bite to eat, for it was time for them to be away fishing. All that morning the recollection of the night before hung over Tom Chist like a great cloud of boding trouble. It filled the confined area of the little boat and spread over the entire wide spaces of sky and sea that surrounded them. Not for a moment was it lifted. Even when he was hauling in his wet and dripping line with a struggling fish at the end of it a recurrent memory of what he had seen would suddenly come upon him, and he would groan in spirit at the recollection. He looked at Matt Abrahamson's leathery face, at his lantern jaws cavernously and stolidly chewing at a tobacco leaf, and it seemed monstrous to him that the old man should be so unconscious of the black cloud that wrapped them all about. When the boat reached the shore again he leaped scrambling to the beach, and as soon as his dinner was eaten he hurried away to find the Dominie Jones. He ran all the way from Abrahamson's hut to the Parson's house, hardly stopping once, and when he knocked at the door he was panting and sobbing for breath. The good man was sitting on the back-kitchen door-step smoking his long pipe of tobacco out into the sunlight, while his wife within was rattling about among the pans and dishes in preparation of their supper, of which a strong, porky smell already filled the air. Then Tom Chist told his story, panting, hurrying, tumbling one word over another in his haste, and Parson Jones listened, breaking every now and then into an ejaculation of wonder. The light in his pipe went out and the bowl turned cold. "And I don't see why they should have killed the poor black man," said Tom, as he finished his narrative. "Why, that is very easy enough to understand," said the good reverend man. "'Twas a treasure-box they buried!" In his agitation Mr. Jones had risen from his seat and was now stumping up and down, puffing at his empty tobacco-pipe as though it were still alight. "A treasure-box!" cried out Tom. "Aye, a treasure-box! And that was why they killed the poor black man. He was the only one, d'ye see, besides they two who knew the place where 'twas hid, and now that they've killed him out of the way, there's nobody but themselves knows. The villains--Tut, tut, look at that now!" In his excitement the dominie had snapped the stem of his tobacco-pipe in two. "Why, then," said Tom, "if that is so, 'tis indeed a wicked, bloody treasure, and fit to bring a curse upon anybody who finds it!" "'Tis more like to bring a curse upon the soul who buried it," said Parson Jones, "and it may be a blessing to him who finds it. But tell me, Tom, do you think you could find the place again where 'twas hid?" "I can't tell that," said Tom, "'twas all in among the sand-humps, d'ye see, and it was at night into the bargain. Maybe we could find the marks of their feet in the sand," he added. "'Tis not likely," said the reverend gentleman, "for the storm last night would have washed all that away." "I could find the place," said Tom, "where the boat was drawn up on the beach." "Why, then, that's something to start from, Tom," said his friend. "If we can find that, then maybe we can find whither they went from there." "If I was certain it was a treasure-box," cried out Tom Chist, "I would rake over every foot of sand betwixt here and Henlopen to find it." "'Twould be like hunting for a pin in a haystack," said the Rev. Hilary Jones. As Tom walked away home, it seemed as though a ton's weight of gloom had been rolled away from his soul. The next day he and Parson Jones were to go treasure-hunting together; it seemed to Tom as though he could hardly wait for the time to come. V The next afternoon Parson Jones and Tom Chist started off together upon the expedition that made Tom's fortune forever. Tom carried a spade over his shoulder and the reverend gentleman walked along beside him with his cane. As they jogged along up the beach they talked together about the only thing they could talk about--the treasure-box. "And how big did you say 'twas?" quoth the good gentleman. "About so long," said Tom Chist, measuring off upon the spade, "and about so wide, and this deep." "And what if it should be full of money, Tom?" said the reverend gentleman, swinging his cane around and around in wide circles in the excitement of the thought, as he strode along briskly. "Suppose it should be full of money, what then?" "By Moses!" said Tom Chist, hurrying to keep up with his friend, "I'd buy a ship for myself, I would, and I'd trade to Injy and to Chiny to my own boot, I would. Suppose the chist was all full of money, sir, and suppose we should find it; would there be enough in it, d'ye suppose, to buy a ship?" "To be sure there would be enough, Tom; enough and to spare, and a good big lump over." "And if I find it 'tis mine to keep, is it, and no mistake?" "Why, to be sure it would be yours!" cried out the Parson, in a loud voice. "To be sure it would be yours!" He knew nothing of the law, but the doubt of the question began at once to ferment in his brain, and he strode along in silence for a while. "Whose else would it be but yours if you find it?" he burst out. "Can you tell me that?" "If ever I have a ship of my own," said Tom Chist, "and if ever I sail to Injy in her, I'll fetch ye back the best chist of tea, sir, that ever was fetched from Cochin Chiny." Parson Jones burst out laughing. "Thankee, Tom," he said; "and I'll thankee again when I get my chist of tea. But tell me, Tom, didst thou ever hear of the farmer girl who counted her chickens before they were hatched?" It was thus they talked as they hurried along up the beach together, and so came to a place at last where Tom stopped short and stood looking about him. "'Twas just here," he said, "I saw the boat last night. I know 'twas here, for I mind me of that bit of wreck yonder, and that there was a tall stake drove in the sand just where yon stake stands." Parson Jones put on his barnacles and went over to the stake towards which Tom pointed. As soon as he had looked at it carefully, he called out: "Why, Tom, this hath been just drove down into the sand. 'Tis a brand-new stake of wood, and the pirates must have set it here themselves as a mark, just as they drove the pegs you spoke about down into the sand." Tom came over and looked at the stake. It was a stout piece of oak nearly two inches thick; it had been shaped with some care, and the top of it had been painted red. He shook the stake and tried to move it, but it had been driven or planted so deeply into the sand that he could not stir it. "Aye, sir," he said, "it must have been set here for a mark, for I'm sure 'twas not here yesterday or the day before." He stood looking about him to see if there were other signs of the pirates' presence. At some little distance there was the corner of something white sticking up out of the sand. He could see that it was a scrap of paper, and he pointed to it, calling out: "Yonder is a piece of paper, sir. I wonder if they left that behind them?" It was a miraculous chance that placed that paper there. There was only an inch of it showing, and if it had not been for Tom's sharp eyes, it would certainly have been overlooked and passed by. The next wind-storm would have covered it up, and all that afterwards happened never would have occurred. "Look sir," he said, as he struck the sand from it, "it hath writing on it." "Let me see it," said Parson Jones. He adjusted the spectacles a little more firmly astride of his nose as he took the paper in his hand and began conning it. "What's all this?" he said; "a whole lot of figures and nothing else." And then he read aloud, "'Mark--S.S.W. by S.' What d'ye suppose that means, Tom?" "I don't know, sir," said Tom. "But maybe we can understand it better if you read on." "Tis all a great lot of figures," said Parson Jones, "without a grain of meaning in them so far as I can see, unless they be sailing directions." And then he began reading again: "'Mark--S.S.W. by S. 40, 72, 91, 130, 151, 177, 202, 232, 256, 271'--d'ye see, it must be sailing directions--'299, 335, 362, 386, 415, 446, 469, 491, 522, 544, 571, 598'--what a lot of them there be--'626, 652, 676, 695, 724, 851, 876, 905, 940, 967. Peg. S.E. by E. 269 foot. Peg. S.S.W. by S. 427 foot. Peg. Dig to the west of this six foot.'" "What's that about a peg?" exclaimed Tom. "What's that about a peg? And then there's something about digging, too!" It was as though a sudden light began shining into his brain. He felt himself growing quickly very excited. "Read that over again, sir," he cried. "Why, sir, you remember I told you they drove a peg into the sand. And don't they say to dig close to it? Read it over again, sir--read it over again!" "Peg?" said the good gentleman. "To be sure it was about a peg. Let's look again. Yes, here it is. 'Peg S.E. by E. 269 foot.'" "Aye!" cried out Tom Chist again, in great excitement. "Don't you remember what I told you, sir, 269 foot? Sure that must be what I saw 'em measuring with the line." Parson Jones had now caught the flame of excitement that was blazing up so strongly in Tom's breast. He felt as though some wonderful thing was about to happen to them. "To be sure, to be sure!" he called out, in a great big voice. "And then they measured out 427 foot south-southwest by south, and then they drove another peg, and then they buried the box six foot to the west of it. Why, Tom--why, Tom Chist! if we've read this aright, thy fortune is made." Tom Chist stood staring straight at the old gentleman's excited face, and seeing nothing but it in all the bright infinity of sunshine. Were they, indeed, about to find the treasure-chest? He felt the sun very hot upon his shoulders, and he heard the harsh, insistent jarring of a tern that hovered and circled with forked tail and sharp white wings in the sunlight just above their heads; but all the time he stood staring into the good old gentleman's face. It was Parson Jones who first spoke. "But what do all these figures mean?" And Tom observed how the paper shook and rustled in the tremor of excitement that shook his hand. He raised the paper to the focus of his spectacles and began to read again. "'Mark 40, 72, 91--'" "Mark?" cried out Tom, almost screaming. "Why, that must mean the stake yonder; that must be the mark." And he pointed to the oaken stick with its red tip blazing against the white shimmer of sand behind it. "And the 40 and 72 and 91," cried the old gentleman, in a voice equally shrill--"why, that must mean the number of steps the pirate was counting when you heard him." "To be sure that's what they mean!" cried Tom Chist. "That is it, and it can be nothing else. Oh, come, sir--come, sir; let us make haste and find it!" "Stay! stay!" said the good gentleman, holding up his hand; and again Tom Chist noticed how it trembled and shook. His voice was steady enough, though very hoarse, but his hand shook and trembled as though with a palsy. "Stay! stay! First of all, we must follow these measurements. And 'tis a marvellous thing," he croaked, after a little pause, "how this paper ever came to be here." "Maybe it was blown here by the storm," suggested Tom Chist. "Like enough; like enough," said Parson Jones. "Like enough, after the wretches had buried the chest and killed the poor black man, they were so buffeted and bowsed about by the storm that it was shook out of the man's pocket, and thus blew away from him without his knowing aught of it." "But let us find the box!" cried out Tom Chist, flaming with his excitement. "Aye, aye," said the good man; "only stay a little, my boy, until we make sure what we're about. I've got my pocket-compass here, but we must have something to measure off the feet when we have found the peg. You run across to Tom Brooke's house and fetch that measuring-rod he used to lay out his new byre. While you're gone I'll pace off the distance marked on the paper with my pocket-compass here." VI Tom Chist was gone for almost an hour, though he ran nearly all the way and back, upborne as on the wings of the wind. When he returned, panting, Parson Jones was nowhere to be seen, but Tom saw his footsteps leading away inland, and he followed the scuffling marks in the smooth surface across the sand-humps and down into the hollows, and by-and-by found the good gentleman in a spot he at once knew as soon as he laid his eyes upon it. It was the open space where the pirates had driven their first peg, and where Tom Chist had afterwards seen them kill the poor black man. Tom Chist gazed around as though expecting to see some sign of the tragedy, but the space was as smooth and as undisturbed as a floor, excepting where, midway across it, Parson Jones who was now stooping over something on the ground, had trampled it all around about. When Tom Chist saw him, he was still bending over, scraping the sand away from something he had found. It was the first peg! Inside of half an hour they had found the second and third pegs, and Tom Chist stripped off his coat, and began digging like mad down into the sand, Parson Jones standing over him watching him. The sun was sloping well towards the west when the blade of Tom Chist's spade struck upon something hard. If it had been his own heart that he had hit in the sand his breast could hardly have thrilled more sharply. It was the treasure-box! Parson Jones himself leaped down into the hole, and began scraping away the sand with his hands as though he had gone crazy. At last, with some difficulty, they tugged and hauled the chest up out of the sand to the surface, where it lay covered all over with the grit that clung to it. It was securely locked and fastened with a padlock, and it took a good many blows with the blade of the spade to burst the bolt. Parson Jones himself lifted the lid. Tom Chist leaned forward and gazed down into the open box. He would not have been surprised to have seen it filled full of yellow gold and bright jewels. It was filled half full of books and papers, and half full of canvas bags tied safely and securely around and around with cords of string. Parson Jones lifted out one of the bags, and it jingled as he did so. It was full of money. He cut the string, and with trembling, shaking hands handed the bag to Tom, who, in an ecstasy of wonder and dizzy with delight, poured out with swimming sight upon the coat spread on the ground a cataract of shining silver money that rang and twinkled and jingled as it fell in a shining heap upon the coarse cloth. Parson Jones held up both hands into the air, and Tom stared at what he saw, wondering whether it was all so, and whether he was really awake. It seemed to him as though he was in a dream. There were two-and-twenty bags in all in the chest: ten of them full of silver money, eight of them full of gold money, three of them full of gold-dust, and one small bag with jewels wrapped up in wad cotton and paper. [Illustration: "'TIS ENOUGH,' CRIED OUT PARSON JONES, 'TO MAKE US BOTH RICH MEN'"] "'Tis enough," cried out Parson Jones, "to make us both rich men as long as we live." The burning summer sun, though sloping in the sky, beat down upon them as hot as fire; but neither of them noticed it. Neither did they notice hunger nor thirst nor fatigue, but sat there as though in a trance, with the bags of money scattered on the sand around them, a great pile of money heaped upon the coat, and the open chest beside them. It was an hour of sundown before Parson Jones had begun fairly to examine the books and papers in the chest. Of the three books, two were evidently log-books of the pirates who had been lying off the mouth of the Delaware Bay all this time. The other book was written in Spanish, and was evidently the log-book of some captured prize. It was then, sitting there upon the sand, the good old gentleman reading in his high, cracking voice, that they first learned from the bloody records in those two books who it was who had been lying inside the Cape all this time, and that it was the famous Captain Kidd. Every now and then the reverend gentleman would stop to exclaim, "Oh, the bloody wretch!" or, "Oh, the desperate, cruel villains!" and then would go on reading again a scrap here and a scrap there. And all the while Tom Chist sat and listened, every now and then reaching out furtively and touching the heap of money still lying upon the coat. One might be inclined to wonder why Captain Kidd had kept those bloody records. He had probably laid them away because they so incriminated many of the great people of the colony of New York that, with the books in evidence, it would have been impossible to bring the pirate to justice without dragging a dozen or more fine gentlemen into the dock along with him. If he could have kept them in his own possession, they would doubtless have been a great weapon of defence to protect him from the gallows. Indeed, when Captain Kidd was finally brought to conviction and hung, he was not accused of his piracies, but of striking a mutinous seaman upon the head with a bucket and accidentally killing him. The authorities did not dare try him for piracy. He was really hung because he was a pirate, and we know that it was the log-books that Tom Chist brought to New York that did the business for him; he was accused and convicted of manslaughter for killing of his own ship-carpenter with a bucket. So Parson Jones, sitting there in the slanting light, read through these terrible records of piracy, and Tom, with the pile of gold and silver money beside him, sat and listened to him. What a spectacle, if any one had come upon them! But they were alone, with the vast arch of sky empty above them and the wide white stretch of sand a desert around them. The sun sank lower and lower, until there was only time to glance through the other papers in the chest. They were nearly all goldsmiths' bills of exchange drawn in favor of certain of the most prominent merchants of New York. Parson Jones, as he read over the names, knew of nearly all the gentlemen by hearsay. Aye, here was this gentleman; he thought that name would be among 'em. What? Here is Mr. So-and-so. Well, if all they say is true, the villain has robbed one of his own best friends. "I wonder," he said, "why the wretch should have hidden these papers so carefully away with the other treasures, for they could do him no good?" Then, answering his own question: "Like enough because these will give him a hold over the gentlemen to whom they are drawn so that he can make a good bargain for his own neck before he gives the bills back to their owners. I tell you what it is, Tom," he continued, "it is you yourself shall go to New York and bargain for the return of these papers. 'Twill be as good as another fortune to you." The majority of the bills were drawn in favor of one Richard Chillingsworth, Esquire. "And he is," said Parson Jones; "one of the richest men in the province of New York. You shall go to him with the news of what we have found." "When shall I go?" said Tom Chist. "You shall go upon the very first boat we can catch," said the Parson. He had turned, still holding the bills in his hand, and was now fingering over the pile of money that yet lay tumbled out upon the coat. "I wonder, Tom," said he, "if you could spare me a score or so of these doubloons?" "You shall have fifty score, if you choose," said Tom, bursting with gratitude and with generosity in his newly found treasure. "You are as fine a lad as ever I saw, Tom," said the Parson, "and I'll thank you to the last day of my life." Tom scooped up a double handful of silver money. "Take it, sir," he said, "and you may have as much more as you want of it." He poured it into the dish that the good man made of his hands, and the Parson made a motion as though to empty it into his pocket. Then he stopped, as though a sudden doubt had occurred to him. "I don't know that 'tis fit for me to take this pirate money, after all," he said. "But you are welcome to it," said Tom. Still the Parson hesitated. "Nay," he burst out, "I'll not take it; 'tis blood-money." And as he spoke he chucked the whole double handful into the now empty chest, then arose and dusted the sand from his breeches. Then, with a great deal of bustling energy, he helped to tie the bags again and put them all back into the chest. They reburied the chest in the place whence they had taken it, and then the Parson folded the precious paper of directions, placed it carefully in his wallet, and his wallet in his pocket. "Tom," he said, for the twentieth time, "your fortune has been made this day." And Tom Chist, as he rattled in his breeches pocket the half-dozen doubloons he had kept out of his treasure, felt that what his friend had said was true. * * * * * As the two went back homeward across the level space of sand, Tom Chist suddenly stopped stock still and stood looking about him. "'Twas just here," he said, digging his heel down into the sand, "that they killed the poor black man." "And here he lies buried for all time," said Parson Jones; and as he spoke he dug his cane down into the sand. Tom Chist shuddered. He would not have been surprised if the ferrule of the cane had struck something soft beneath that level surface. But it did not, nor was any sign of that tragedy ever seen again. For, whether the pirates had carried away what they had done and buried it elsewhere, or whether the storm in blowing the sand had completely levelled off and hidden all sign of that tragedy where it was enacted, certain it is that it never came to sight again--at least so far as Tom Chist and the Reverend Hillary Jones ever knew. VII This is the story of the treasure-box. All that remains now is to conclude the story of Tom Chist, and to tell of what came of him in the end. He did not go back again to live with old Matt Abrahamson. Parson Jones had now taken charge of him and his fortunes, and Tom did not have to go back to the fisherman's hut. Old Abrahamson talked a great deal about it, and would come in his cups and harangue good Parson Jones, making a vast protestation of what he would do to Tom--if he ever caught him--for running away. But Tom on all these occasions kept carefully out of his way, and nothing came of the old man's threatenings. Tom used to go over to see his foster-mother now and then, but always when the old man was from home. And Molly Abrahamson used to warn him to keep out of her father's way. "He's in as vile a humor as ever I see, Tom," she said; "he sits sulking all day long, and 'tis my belief he'd kill ye if he caught ye." Of course Tom said nothing, even to her, about the treasure, and he and the reverend gentleman kept the knowledge thereof to themselves. About three weeks later Parson Jones managed to get him shipped aboard of a vessel bound for New York town, and a few days later Tom Chist landed at that place. He had never been in such a town before, and he could not sufficiently wonder and marvel at the number of brick houses, at the multitude of people coming and going along the fine, hard, earthen sidewalk, at the shops and the stores where goods hung in the windows, and, most of all, the fortifications and the battery at the point, at the rows of threatening cannon, and at the scarlet-coated sentries pacing up and down the ramparts. All this was very wonderful, and so were the clustered boats riding at anchor in the harbor. It was like a new world, so different was it from the sand-hills and the sedgy levels of Henlopen. Tom Chist took up his lodgings at a coffeehouse near to the town-hall, and thence he sent by the post-boy a letter written by Parson Jones to Master Chillingsworth. In a little while the boy returned with a message, asking Tom to come up to Mr. Chillingsworth's house that afternoon at two o'clock. Tom went thither with a great deal of trepidation, and his heart fell away altogether when he found it a fine, grand brick house, three stories high, and with wrought-iron letters across the front. The counting-house was in the same building; but Tom, because of Mr. Jones's letter, was conducted directly into the parlor, where the great rich man was awaiting his coming. He was sitting in a leather-covered arm-chair, smoking a pipe of tobacco, and with a bottle of fine old Madeira close to his elbow. Tom had not had a chance to buy a new suit of clothes yet, and so he cut no very fine figure in the rough dress he had brought with him from Henlopen. Nor did Mr. Chillingsworth seem to think very highly of his appearance, for he sat looking sideways at Tom as he smoked. "Well, my lad," he said; "and what is this great thing you have to tell me that is so mightily wonderful? I got what's-his-name--Mr. Jones's-- letter, and now I am ready to hear what you have to say." But if he thought but little of his visitor's appearance at first, he soon changed his sentiments towards him, for Tom had not spoken twenty words when Mr. Chillingsworth's whole aspect changed. He straightened himself up in his seat, laid aside his pipe, pushed away his glass of Madeira, and bade Tom take a chair. He listened without a word as Tom Chist told of the buried treasure, of how he had seen the poor negro murdered, and of how he and Parson Jones had recovered the chest again. Only once did Mr. Chillingsworth interrupt the narrative. "And to think," he cried, "that the villain this very day walks about New York town as though he were an honest man, ruffling it with the best of us! But if we can only get hold of these log-books you speak of. Go on; tell me more of this." When Tom Chist's narrative was ended, Mr. Chillingsworth's bearing was as different as daylight is from dark. He asked a thousand questions, all in the most polite and gracious tone imaginable, and not only urged a glass of his fine old Madeira upon Tom, but asked him to stay to supper. There was nobody to be there, he said, but his wife and daughter. Tom, all in a panic at the very thought of the two ladies, sturdily refused to stay even for the dish of tea Mr. Chillingsworth offered him. He did not know that he was destined to stay there as long as he should live. "And now," said Mr. Chillingsworth, "tell me about yourself." "I have nothing to tell, your honor," said Tom, "except that I was washed up out of the sea." "Washed up out of the sea!" exclaimed Mr. Chillingsworth. "Why, how was that? Come, begin at the beginning, and tell me all." Thereupon Tom Chist did as he was bidden, beginning at the very beginning and telling everything just as Molly Abrahamson had often told it to him. As he continued, Mr. Chillingsworth's interest changed into an appearance of stronger and stronger excitement. Suddenly he jumped up out of his chair and began to walk up and down the room. "Stop! stop!" he cried out at last, in the midst of something Tom was saying. "Stop! stop! Tell me; do you know the name of the vessel that was wrecked, and from which you were washed ashore?" "I've heard it said," said Tom Chist, "'twas the _Bristol Merchant_." "I knew it! I knew it!" exclaimed the great man, in a loud voice, flinging his hands up into the air. "I felt it was so the moment you began the story. But tell me this, was there nothing found with you with a mark or a name upon it?" "There was a kerchief," said Tom, "marked with a T and a C." "Theodosia Chillingsworth!" cried out the merchant. "I knew it! I knew it! Heavens! to think of anything so wonderful happening as this! Boy! boy! dost thou know who thou art? Thou art my own brother's son. His name was Oliver Chillingsworth, and he was my partner in business, and thou art his son." Then he ran out into the entryway, shouting and calling for his wife and daughter to come. So Tom Chist--or Thomas Chillingsworth, as he now was to be called--did stay to supper, after all. This is the story, and I hope you may like it. For Tom Chist became rich and great, as was to be supposed, and he married his pretty cousin Theodosia (who had been named for his own mother, drowned in the _Bristol Merchant_). He did not forget his friends, but had Parson Jones brought to New York to live. As to Molly and Matt Abrahamson, they both enjoyed a pension of ten pounds a year for as long as they lived; for now that all was well with him, Tom bore no grudge against the old fisherman for all the drubbings he had suffered. The treasure-box was brought on to New York, and if Tom Chist did not get all the money there was in it (as Parson Jones had opined he would) he got at least a good big lump of it. And it is my belief that those log-books did more to get Captain Kidd arrested in Boston town and hanged in London than anything else that was brought up against him. III. THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND _Being a Narrative of Certain Extraordinary Adventures that Befell Barnaby True, Esquire, of the Town of New York, in the Year 1753._ I It is not so easy to tell why discredit should be cast upon a man because of something his grandfather may have done amiss, but the world, which is never over-nice in its discrimination as to where to lay the blame, is often pleased to make the innocent suffer instead of the guilty. Barnaby True was a good, honest boy, as boys go, but yet was he not ever allowed altogether to forget that his grandfather had been that very famous pirate, Captain William Brand, who, after so many marvellous adventures (if one may believe the catchpenny stories and ballads that were writ about him), was murdered in Jamaica by Captain John Malyoe, the commander of his own consort, the _Adventure_ galley. It hath never been denied, that ever I heard, that up to the time of Captain Brand's being commissioned against the South Sea pirates, he had always been esteemed as honest, reputable a sea-captain as could be. When he started out upon that adventure it was with a ship, the _Royal Sovereign_, fitted out by some of the most decent merchants of New York. Governor Van Dam himself had subscribed to the adventure, and himself had signed Captain Brand's commission. So, if the unfortunate man went astray, he must have had great temptation to do so; many others behaving no better when the opportunity offered in these far-away seas, when so many rich purchases might very easily be taken and no one the wiser. To be sure those stories and ballads made our captain to be a most wicked, profane wretch; and if he were, why God knows he suffered and paid for it, for he laid his bones in Jamaica, and never saw his home or his wife or his daughter after he had sailed away on the _Royal Sovereign_ on that long, misfortunate voyage, leaving his family behind him in New York to the care of strangers. At the time when Captain Brand so met his fate in Port Royal Harbor he had increased his flotilla to two vessels--the _Royal Sovereign_ (which was the vessel that had been fitted out for him in New York, a fine brigantine and a good sailer), and the _Adventure_ galley, which he had captured somewhere in the South Seas. This latter vessel he placed in command of a certain John Malyoe whom he had picked up no one knows where--a young man of very good family in England, who had turned red-handed pirate. This man, who took no more thought of a human life than he would of a broom straw, was he who afterwards murdered Captain Brand, as you shall presently hear. With these two vessels, the _Royal Sovereign_ and the _Adventure_, Captain Brand and Captain Malyoe swept the Mozambique Channel as clear as a boatswain's whistle, and after three years of piracy, having gained a great booty of gold and silver and pearls, sailed straight for the Americas, making first the island of Jamaica and the harbor of Port Royal, where they dropped anchor to wait for news from home. But by this time the authorities had been so stirred up against our pirates that it became necessary for them to hide their booty until such time as they might make their peace with the Admiralty Courts at home. So one night Captain Brand and Captain Malyoe, with two others of the pirates, went ashore with two great chests of treasure, which they buried somewhere on the banks of the Cobra River near the place where the old Spanish fort had stood. What happened after the treasure was thus buried no one may tell. 'Twas said that Captain Brand and Captain Malyoe fell a-quarrelling and that the upshot of the matter was that Captain Malyoe shot Captain Brand through the head, and that the pirate who was with him served Captain Brand's companion after the same fashion with a pistol bullet through the body. After that the two murderers returned to their vessel, the _Adventure_ galley, and sailed away, carrying the bloody secret of the buried treasure with them. [Illustration: "CAPTAIN MALYOE SHOT CAPTAIN BRAND THROUGH THE HEAD"] But this double murder of Captain Brand and his companion happened, you are to understand, some twenty years before the time of this story, and while our hero was but one year old. So now to our present history. It is a great pity that any one should have a grandfather who ended his days in such a sort as this; but it was no fault of Barnaby True's, nor could he have done anything to prevent it, seeing he was not even born into the world at the time that his grandfather turned pirate, and that he was only one year old when Captain Brand so met his death on the Cobra River. Nevertheless, the boys with whom he went to school never tired of calling him "Pirate," and would sometimes sing for his benefit that famous catchpenny ballad beginning thus: "Oh! my name was Captain Brand, A-sailing, And a-sailing; Oh! my name was Captain Brand, A-sailing free. Oh! my name was Captain Brand, And I sinned by sea and land, For I broke God's just command, A-sailing free." 'Twas a vile thing to sing at the grandson of so unfortunate a man, and oftentimes Barnaby True would double up his little fists and would fight his tormentors at great odds, and would sometimes go back home with a bloody nose or a bruised eye to have his poor mother cry over him and grieve for him. Not that his days were all of teasing and torment, either; for if his comrades did sometimes treat him so, why then there were other times when he and they were as great friends as could be, and used to go a-swimming together in the most amicable fashion where there was a bit of sandy strand below the little bluff along the East River above Fort George. There was a clump of wide beech-trees at that place, with a fine shade and a place to lay their clothes while they swam about, splashing with their naked white bodies in the water. At these times Master Barnaby would bawl as lustily and laugh as loud as though his grandfather had been the most honest ship-chandler in the town, instead of a bloody-handed pirate who had been murdered in his sins. Ah! It is a fine thing to look back to the days when one was a boy! Barnaby may remember how, often, when he and his companions were paddling so in the water, the soldiers off duty would come up from the fort and would maybe join them in the water, others, perhaps, standing in their red coats on the shore, looking on and smoking their pipes of tobacco. Then there were other times when maybe the very next day after our hero had fought with great valor with his fellows he would go a-rambling with them up the Bouwerie Road with the utmost friendliness; perhaps to help them steal cherries from some old Dutch farmer, forgetting in such an adventure what a thief his own grandfather had been. But to resume our story. When Barnaby True was between sixteen and seventeen years old he was taken into employment in the counting-house of his stepfather, Mr. Roger Hartright, the well-known West Indian merchant, a most respectable man and one of the kindest and best of friends that anybody could have in the world. This good gentleman had courted the favor of Barnaby's mother for a long time before he had married her. Indeed, he had so courted her before she had ever thought of marrying Jonathan True. But he not venturing to ask her in marriage, and she being a brisk, handsome woman, she chose the man who spoke out his mind, and so left the silent lover out in the cold. But so soon as she was a widow and free again, Mr. Hartright resumed his wooing, and so used to come down every Tuesday and Friday evening to sit and talk with her. Among Barnaby True's earliest memories was a recollection of the good, kind gentleman sitting in old Captain Brand's double-nailed arm-chair, the sunlight shining across his knees, over which he had spread a great red silk handkerchief, while he sipped a dish of tea with a dash of rum in it. He kept up this habit of visiting the Widow True for a long time before he could fetch himself to the point of asking anything more particular of her, and so Barnaby was nigh fourteen years old before Mr. Hartright married her, and so became our hero's dear and honored foster-father. It was the kindness of this good man that not only found a place for Barnaby in the counting-house, but advanced him so fast that, against our hero was twenty-one years old, he had made four voyages as supercargo to the West Indies in Mr. Hartright's ship, the _Belle Helen_, and soon after he was twenty-one undertook a fifth. Nor was it in any such subordinate position as mere supercargo that he sailed upon these adventures, but rather as the confidential agent of Mr. Hartright, who, having no likelihood of children of his own, was jealous to advance our hero to a position of trust and responsibility in the counting-house, and so would have him know all the particulars of the business and become more intimately acquainted with the correspondents and agents throughout those parts of the West Indies where the affairs of the house were most active. He would give to Barnaby the best sort of letters of introduction, so that the correspondents of Mr. Hartright throughout those parts, seeing how that gentleman had adopted our hero's interests as his own, were always at considerable pains to be very polite and obliging in showing every attention to him. Especially among these gentlemen throughout the West Indies may be mentioned Mr. Ambrose Greenfield, a merchant of excellent standing who lived at Kingston, Jamaica. This gentleman was very particular to do all that he could to make our hero's stay in these parts as agreeable and pleasant to him as might be. Mr. Greenfield is here spoken of with a greater degree of particularity than others who might as well be remarked upon, because, as the reader shall presently discover for himself, it was through the offices of this good friend that our hero first became acquainted, not only with that lady who afterwards figured with such conspicuousness in his affairs, but also with a man who, though graced with a title, was perhaps the greatest villain who ever escaped a just fate upon the gallows. So much for the history of Barnaby True up to the beginning of this story, without which you shall hardly be able to understand the purport of those most extraordinary adventures that afterwards befell him, nor the logic of their consequence after they had occurred. II Upon the occasion of our hero's fifth voyage into the West Indies he made a stay of some six or eight weeks at Kingston, in the island of Jamaica, and it was at that time that the first of those extraordinary adventures befell him, concerning which this narrative has to relate. It was Barnaby's habit, when staying at Kingston, to take lodging with a very decent, respectable widow, by name Mrs. Anne Bolles, who, with three extremely agreeable and pleasant daughters, kept a very clean and well-served house for the accommodation of strangers visiting that island. One morning as he sat sipping his coffee, clad only in loose cotton drawers and a jacket of the same material, and with slippers upon his feet (as is the custom in that country, where every one endeavors to keep as cool as may be), Miss Eliza, the youngest of the three daughters--a brisk, handsome miss of sixteen or seventeen--came tripping into the room and handed him a sealed letter, which she declared a stranger had just left at the door, departing incontinently so soon as he had eased himself of that commission. You may conceive of Barnaby's astonishment when he opened the note and read the remarkable words that here follow: "_Mr. Barnaby True._ "Sir,--Though you don't know me, I know you, and I tell you this: if you will be at Pratt's Ordinary on Friday next at eight o'clock in the evening, and will accompany the man who shall say to you, '_The Royal Sovereign is come in_' you shall learn of something the most to your advantage that ever befell you. Sir, keep this note and give it to him who shall address those words to you, so to certify that you are the man he seeks. Sir, this is the most important thing that can concern you, so you will please say nothing to nobody about it." Such was the wording of the note which was writ in as cramped and villanous handwriting as our hero ever beheld, and which, excepting his own name, was without address, and which possessed no superscription whatever. The first emotion that stirred Barnaby True was one of extreme and profound astonishment; the second thought that came into his mind was that maybe some witty fellow--of whom he knew a good many in that place, and wild, mad rakes they were as ever the world beheld--was attempting to play off a smart, witty jest upon him. Indeed, Miss Eliza Bolles, who was of a lively, mischievous temper, was not herself above playing such a prank should the occasion offer. With this thought in his mind Barnaby inquired of her with a good deal of particularity concerning the appearance and condition of the man who had left the note, to all of which Miss replied with so straight a face and so candid an air that he could no longer suspect her of being concerned in any trick against him, and so eased his mind of any such suspicion. The bearer of the note, she informed him, was a tall, lean man, with a red neckerchief tied around his neck and with copper buckles to his shoes, and he had the appearance of a sailor-man, having a great queue of red hair hanging down his back. But, Lord! what was such a description as that in a busy seaport town full of scores of men to fit such a likeness? Accordingly, our hero put the note away into his wallet, determining to show it to his good friend Mr. Greenfield that evening, and to ask his advice upon it. This he did, and that gentleman's opinion was the same as his: to wit, that some wag was minded to play off a hoax upon him, and that the matter of the letter was all nothing but smoke. III Nevertheless, though Barnaby was thus confirmed in his opinion as to the nature of the communication he had received, he yet determined in his own mind that he would see the business through to the end and so be at Pratt's Ordinary, as the note demanded, upon the day and at the time appointed therein. Pratt's Ordinary was at that time a very fine and famous place of its sort, with good tobacco and the best rum in the West Indies, and had a garden behind it that, sloping down to the harbor front, was planted pretty thick with palms and ferns, grouped into clusters with flowers and plants. Here were a number of tables, some in little grottos, like our Vauxhall in New York, with red and blue and white paper lanterns hung among the foliage. Thither gentlemen and ladies used sometimes to go of an evening to sit and drink lime-juice and sugar and water (and sometimes a taste of something stronger), and to look out across the water at the shipping and so to enjoy the cool of the day. Thither, accordingly, our hero went a little before the time appointed in the note, and, passing directly through the Ordinary and to the garden beyond, chose a table at the lower end and close to the water's edge, where he could not readily be seen by any one coming into the place, and yet where he could easily view whoever should approach. Then, ordering some rum and water and a pipe of tobacco, he composed himself to watch for the arrival of those witty fellows whom he suspected would presently come thither to see the end of their prank and to enjoy his confusion. The spot was pleasant enough, for the land breeze, blowing strong and cool, set the leaves of the palm-tree above his head to rattling and clattering continually against the darkness of the sky, where, the moon then being half full, they shone every now and then like blades of steel. The waves, also, were splashing up against the little landing-place at the foot of the garden, sounding mightily pleasant in the dusk of the evening, and sparkling all over the harbor where the moon caught the edges of the water. A great many vessels were lying at anchor in their ridings, with the dark, prodigious form of a man-of-war looming up above them in the moonlight. There our hero sat for the best part of an hour, smoking his pipe of tobacco and sipping his rum and water, yet seeing nothing of those whom he suspected might presently come thither to laugh at him. It was not far from half after the hour when a row-boat came suddenly out of the night and pulled up to the landing-place at the foot of the garden, and three or four men came ashore in the darkness. They landed very silently and walked up the garden pathway without saying a word, and, sitting down at an adjacent table, ordered rum and water and began drinking among themselves, speaking every now and then a word or two in a tongue that Barnaby did not well understand, but which, from certain phrases they let fall, he suspected to be Portuguese. Our hero paid no great attention to them, till by-and-by he became aware that they had fallen to whispering together and were regarding him very curiously. He felt himself growing very uneasy under this observation, which every moment grew more and more particular, and he was just beginning to suspect that this interest concerning himself might have somewhat more to do with him than mere idle curiosity, when one of the men, who was plainly the captain of the party, suddenly says to him, "How now, messmate; won't you come and have a drop of drink with us?" At this address Barnaby instantly began to be aware that the affair he had come upon was indeed no jest, as he had supposed it to be, but that he had walked into what promised to be a very pretty adventure. Nevertheless, not wishing to be too hasty in his conclusions, he answered very civilly that he had drunk enough already, and that more would only heat his blood. "Well," says the stranger, "I may be mistook, but I believe you are Mr. Barnaby True." "You are right, sir, and that is my name," acknowledged Barnaby. "But still I cannot guess how that may concern you, nor why it should be a reason for my drinking with you." "That I will presently tell you," says the stranger, very composedly. "Your name concerns me because I was sent here to tell Mr. Barnaby True that '_the Royal Sovereign is come in_.'" To be sure our hero's heart jumped into his throat at those words. His pulse began beating at a tremendous rate, for here, indeed, was an adventure suddenly opening to him such as a man may read about in a book, but which he may hardly expect to befall him in the real happenings of his life. Had he been a wiser and an older man he might have declined the whole business, instead of walking blindly into that of which he could see neither the beginning nor the ending; but being barely one-and-twenty years of age, and possessing a sanguine temper and an adventurous disposition that would have carried him into almost anything that possessed a smack of uncertainty or danger, he contrived to say, in a pretty easy tone (though God knows how it was put on for the occasion): "Well, if that be so, and if the _Royal Sovereign_ is indeed come in, why, then, I'll join you, since you are so kind as to ask me." Therewith he arose and went across to the other table, carrying his pipe with him, and sat down and began smoking, with all the appearance of ease he could command upon the occasion. At this the other burst out a-laughing. "Indeed," says he, "you are a cool blade, and a chip of the old block. But harkee, young gentleman," and here he fell serious again. "This is too weighty a business to chance any mistake in a name. I believe that you are, as you say, Mr. Barnaby True; but, nevertheless, to make perfectly sure, I must ask you first to show me a note that you have about you and which you are instructed to show to me." "Very well," said Barnaby; "I have it here safe and sound, and you shall see it." And thereupon and without more ado he drew out his wallet, opened it, and handed the other the mysterious note which he had kept carefully by him ever since he had received it. His interlocutor took the paper, and drawing to him the candle, burning there for the convenience of those who would smoke tobacco, began immediately reading it. This gave Barnaby True a moment or two to look at him. He was a tall, lean man with a red handkerchief tied around his neck, with a queue of red hair hanging down his back, and with copper buckles on his shoes, so that Barnaby True could not but suspect that he was the very same man who had given the note to Miss Eliza Bolles at the door of his lodging-house. "'Tis all right and straight and as it should be," the other said, after he had so examined the note. "And now that the paper is read" (suiting his action to his words), "I'll just burn it for safety's sake." And so he did, twisting it up and setting it to the flame of the candle. "And now," he said, continuing his address, "I'll tell you what I am here for. I was sent to ask if you're man enough to take your life in your hands and to go with me in that boat down yonder at the foot of the garden. Say 'Yes,' and we'll start away without wasting more time, for the devil is ashore here at Jamaica--though you don't know what that means--and if he gets ahead of us, why then we may whistle for what we are after, for all the good 'twill do us. Say 'No,' and I go away, and I promise you you shall never be troubled more in this sort of a way. So now speak up plain, young gentleman, and tell us what is your wish in this business, and whether you will adventure any further or no." If our hero hesitated it was not for long, and when he spoke up it was with a voice as steady as could be. "To be sure I'm man enough to go with you," says he; "and if you mean me any harm I can look out for myself; and if I can't, then here is something can look out for me." And therewith he lifted up the flap of his pocket and showed the butt of a pistol he had fetched with him when he had set out from his lodging-house that evening. At this the other burst out a-laughing for a second time. "Come," says he; "you are indeed of right mettle, and I like your spirit. All the same, no one in all the world means you less ill than I, and so, if you have to use that barker, 'twill not be upon us who are your friends, but only upon one who is more wicked than the devil himself. So now if you are prepared and have made up your mind and are determined to see this affair through to the end, 'tis time for us to be away." Whereupon, our hero indicating his acquiescence, his interlocutor and the others (who had not spoken a single word for all this time), rose together from the table, and the stranger having paid the scores of all, they went down together to the boat that lay plainly awaiting their coming at the bottom of the garden. Thus coming to it, our hero could see that it was a large yawl-boat manned by half a score of black men for rowers, and that there were two lanterns in the stern-sheets, and three or four shovels. The man who had conducted the conversation with Barnaby True for all this time, and who was, as has been said, plainly the captain of the expedition, stepped immediately down into the boat; our hero followed, and the others followed after him; and instantly they were seated the boat shoved off and the black men began pulling straight out into the harbor, and so, at some distance away, around under the stern of the man-of-war. Not a word was spoken after they had thus left the shore, and they might all have been so many spirits for the silence of the party. Barnaby True was too full of his own thoughts to talk (and serious enough thoughts they were by this time, with crimps to trepan a man at every turn, and press-gangs to carry him off so that he might never be heard of again). As for the others, they did not seem to choose to say anything now that they had been fairly embarked upon their enterprise, and so the crew pulled away for the best part of an hour, the leader of the expedition directing the course of the boat straight across the harbor, as though towards the mouth of the Cobra River. Indeed, this was their destination, as Barnaby could after a while see for himself, by the low point of land with a great, long row of cocoanut-palms growing upon it (the appearance of which he knew very well), which by-and-by began to loom up from the dimness of the moonlight. As they approached the river they found the tide was running very violently, so that it gurgled and rippled alongside the boat as the crew of black men pulled strongly against it. Thus rowing slowly against the stream they came around what appeared to be either a point of land or an islet covered with a thick growth of mangrove-trees; though still no one spoke a single word as to their destination, or what was the business they had in hand. The night, now that they had come close to the shore, appeared to be full of the noises of running tide-water, and the air was heavy with the smell of mud and marsh. And over all was the whiteness of the moonlight, with a few stars pricking out here and there in the sky; and everything was so strange and mysterious and so different from anything that he had experienced before that Barnaby could not divest himself of the feeling that it was all a dream from which at any moment he might awaken. As for the town and the Ordinary he had quitted such a short time before, so different were they from this present experience, it was as though they might have concerned another life than that which he was then enjoying. Meantime, the rowers bending to the oars, the boat drew slowly around into the open water once more. As it did so the leader of the expedition of a sudden called out in a loud, commanding voice, whereat the black men instantly ceased rowing and lay on their oars, the boat drifting onward into the night. At the same moment of time our hero became aware of another boat coming down the river towards where they lay. This other boat, approaching thus strangely through the darkness, was full of men, some of them armed; for even in the distance Barnaby could not but observe that the light of the moon glimmered now and then as upon the barrels of muskets or pistols. This threw him into a good deal of disquietude of mind, for whether they or this boat were friends or enemies, or as to what was to happen next, he was altogether in the dark. Upon this point, however, he was not left very long in doubt, for the oarsmen of the approaching boat continuing to row steadily onward till they had come pretty close to Barnaby and his companions, a man who sat in the stern suddenly stood up, and as they passed by shook a cane at Barnaby's companion with a most threatening and angry gesture. At the same moment, the moonlight shining full upon him, Barnaby could see him as plain as daylight--a large, stout gentleman with a round red face, and clad in a fine, laced coat of red cloth. In the stern of the boat near by him was a box or chest about the bigness of a middle-sized travelling-trunk, but covered all over with cakes of sand and dirt. In the act of passing, the gentleman, still standing, pointed at this chest with his cane--an elegant gold-headed staff--and roared out in a loud voice: "Are you come after this, Abram Dowling? Then come and take it." And thereat, as he sat down again, burst out a-laughing as though what he had said was the wittiest jest conceivable. Either because he respected the armed men in the other boat, or else for some reason best known to himself, the Captain of our hero's expedition did not immediately reply, but sat as still as any stone. But at last, the other boat having drifted pretty far away, he suddenly found words to shout out after it: "Very well, Jack Malyoe! Very well, Jack Malyoe! You've got the better of us once more. But next time is the third, and then it'll be our turn, even if William Brand must come back from the grave to settle with you himself." But to this my fine gentleman in t'other boat made no reply except to burst out once more into a great fit of laughter. There was, however, still another man in the stern of the enemy's boat--a villanous, lean man with lantern-jaws, and the top of his head as bald as an apple. He held in his hand a great pistol, which he flourished about him, crying out to the gentleman beside him, "Do but give me the word, your honor, and I'll put another bullet through the son of a sea cook." But the other forbade him, and therewith the boat presently melted away into the darkness of the night and was gone. This happened all in a few seconds, so that before our hero understood what was passing he found the boat in which he still sat drifting silently in the moonlight (for no one spoke for awhile) and the oars of the other boat sounding farther and farther away into the distance. By-and-by says one of those in Barnaby's boat, in Spanish, "Where shall you go now?" At this the leader of the expedition appeared suddenly to come back to himself and to find his tongue again. "Go?" he roared out. "Go to the devil! Go? Go where you choose! Go? Go back again--that's where well go!" And therewith he fell a-cursing and swearing, frothing at the lips as though he had gone clean crazy, while the black men, bending once more to their oars, rowed back again across the harbor as fast as ever they could lay oars to the water. They put Barnaby True ashore below the old custom-house, but so bewildered and amazed by all that had happened, and by what he had seen, and by the names he had heard spoken, that he was only half conscious of the familiar things among which he suddenly found himself transported. The moonlight and the night appeared to have taken upon them a new and singular aspect, and he walked up the street towards his lodging like one drunk or in a dream. For you must remember that "John Malyoe" was the captain of the _Adventure_ galley--he who had shot Barnaby's own grandfather--and "Abram Dowling," I must tell you, had been the gunner of the _Royal Sovereign_--he who had been shot at the same time that Captain Brand met his tragical end. And yet these names he had heard spoken--the one from one boat, and the other from the other, so that he could not but wonder what sort of beings they were among whom he had fallen. As to that box covered all over with mud, he could only offer a conjecture as to what it contained and as to what the finding of it signified. But of this our hero said nothing to any one, nor did he tell any one what he suspected, for, though he was so young in years, he possessed a continent disposition inherited from his father (who had been one of ten children born to a poor but worthy Presbyterian minister of Bluefield, Connecticut), so it was that not even to his good friend Mr. Greenfield did Barnaby say a word as to what had happened to him, going about his business the next day as though nothing of moment had occurred. But he was not destined yet to be done with those beings among whom he had fallen that night; for that which he supposed to be the ending of the whole affair was only the beginning of further adventures that were soon to befall him. IV Mr. Greenfield lived in a fine brick house just outside of the town, on the Mona Road. His family consisted of a wife and two daughters-- handsome, lively young ladies with very fine, bright teeth that shone whenever they laughed, and with a-plenty to say for themselves. To this pleasant house Barnaby True was often asked to a family dinner, after which he and his good kind host would maybe sit upon the veranda, looking out towards the mountain, smoking their cigarros while the young ladies laughed and talked, or played upon the guitar and sang. A day or two before the _Belle Helen_ sailed from Kingston, upon her return voyage to New York, Mr. Greenfield stopped Barnaby True as he was passing through the office, and begged him to come to dinner that night. (For within the tropics, you are to know, they breakfast at eleven o'clock and take dinner in the cool of the evening, because of the heat, and not at mid-day, as we do in more temperate latitudes). "I would," says Mr. Greenfield, "have you meet Sir John Malyoe and Miss Marjorie, who are to be your chief passengers for New York, and for whom the state cabin and the two state-rooms are to be fitted as here ordered"--showing a letter--"for Sir John hath arranged," says Mr. Greenfield, "for the Captain's own state-room." Then, not being aware of Barnaby True's history, nor that Captain Brand was his grandfather, the good gentleman--calling Sir John "Jack" Malyoe--goes on to tell our hero what a famous pirate he had been, and how it was he who had shot Captain Brand over t'other side of the harbor twenty years before. "Yes," says he, "'tis the same Jack Malyoe, though grown into repute and importance now, as who would not who hath had the good-fortune to fall heir to a baronetcy and a landed estate?" And so it befell that same night that Barnaby True once again beheld the man who had murdered his own grandfather, meeting him this time face to face. That time in the harbor he had seen Sir John Malyoe at a distance and in the darkness; now that he beheld him closer, it seemed to him that he had never seen a countenance more distasteful to him in all his life. Not that the man was altogether ugly, for he had a good enough nose and a fine double chin; but his eyes stood out from his face and were red and watery, and he winked them continually, as though they were always a-smarting. His lips were thick and purple-red, and his cheeks mottled here and there with little clots of veins. When he spoke, his voice rattled in his throat to such a degree that it made one wish to clear one's own throat to listen to him. So, what with a pair of fat, white hands, and that hoarse voice, and his swollen face, and his thick lips a-sticking out, it appeared to Barnaby True he had never beheld a countenance that pleased him so little. But if Sir John Malyoe suited our hero's taste so ill, the granddaughter was in the same degree pleasing to him. She had a thin, fair skin, red lips, and yellow hair--though it was then powdered pretty white for the occasion--and the bluest eyes that ever he beheld in all of his life. A sweet, timid creature, who appeared not to dare so much as to speak a word for herself without looking to that great beast, her grandfather, for leave to do so, for she would shrink and shudder whenever he would speak of a sudden to her or direct a glance upon her. When she did pluck up sufficient courage to say anything, it was in so low a voice that Barnaby was obliged to bend his head to hear her; and when she smiled she would as like as not catch herself short and look up as though to see if she did amiss to be cheerful. As for Sir John, he sat at dinner and gobbled and ate and drank, smacking his lips all the while, but with hardly a word of civility either to Mr. Greenfield or to Mrs. Greenfield or to Barnaby True; but wearing all the while a dull, sullen air, as though he would say, "Your damned victuals and drink are no better than they should be, but, such as they are, I must eat 'em or eat nothing." It was only after dinner was over and the young lady and the two misses off in a corner together that Barnaby heard her talk with any degree of ease. Then, to be sure, her tongue became loose enough, and she prattled away at a great rate; though hardly above her breath. Then of a sudden her grand-father called out, in his hoarse, rattling voice, that it was time to go, upon which she stopped short in what she was saying and jumped up from her chair, looking as frightened as though he were going to strike her with that gold-headed cane of his that he always carried with him. Barnaby True and Mr. Greenfield both went out to see the two into their coach, where Sir John's man stood holding the lantern. And who should he be, to be sure, but that same lean villain with bald head who had offered to shoot the Captain of Barnaby's expedition out on the harbor that night! For one of the circles of light shining up into his face, Barnaby True knew him the moment he clapped eyes upon him. Though he could not have recognized our hero, he grinned at him in the most impudent, familiar fashion, and never so much as touched his hat either to him or to Mr. Greenfield; but as soon as his master and his young mistress had entered the coach, banged to the door and scrambled up on the seat alongside the driver, and so away without a word, but with another impudent grin, this time favoring both Barnaby and the old gentleman. Such were Sir John Malyoe and his man, and the ill opinion our hero conceived of them was only confirmed by further observation. The next day Sir John Malyoe's travelling-cases began to come aboard the _Belle Helen_, and in the afternoon that same lean, villanous man-servant comes skipping across the gangplank as nimble as a goat, with two black men behind him lugging a great sea-chest. "What!" he cries out, "and so you is the supercargo, is you? Why, to be sure, I thought you was more account when I saw you last night a-sitting talking with his honor like his equal. Well, no matter," says he, "'tis something to have a brisk, genteel young fellow for a supercargo. So come, my hearty, lend a hand and help me set his honor's cabin to rights." What a speech was this to endure from such a fellow! What with our hero's distaste for the villain, and what with such odious familiarity, you may guess into what temper so impudent an address must have cast him. Says he, "You'll find the steward in yonder, and he'll show you the cabin Sir John is to occupy." Therewith he turned and walked away with prodigious dignity, leaving the other standing where he was. As he went below to his own state-room he could not but see, out of the tail of his eye, that the fellow was still standing where he had left him, regarding him with a most evil, malevolent countenance, so that he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had an enemy aboard for that voyage who was not very likely to forgive or forget what he must regard as so mortifying a slight as that which Barnaby had put upon him. The next day Sir John Malyoe himself came aboard, accompanied by his granddaughter, and followed by his man, and he followed again by four black men, who carried among them two trunks, not large in size, but vastly heavy in weight. Towards these two trunks Sir John and his follower devoted the utmost solicitude and care to see that they were properly carried into the cabin he was to occupy. Barnaby True was standing in the saloon as they passed close by him; but though Sir John looked hard at him and straight in the face, he never so much as spoke a single word to our hero, or showed by a look or a sign that he had ever met him before. At this the serving-man, who saw it all with eyes as quick as a cat's, fell to grinning and chuckling to see Barnaby in his turn so slighted. The young lady, who also saw it, blushed as red as fire, and thereupon delivered a courtesy to poor Barnaby, with a most sweet and gracious affability. There were, besides Sir John and the young lady, but two other passengers who upon this occasion took the voyage to New York: the Reverend Simon Styles, master of a flourishing academy at Spanish Town, and his wife. This was a good, worthy couple of an extremely quiet disposition, saying little or nothing, but contented to sit in the great cabin by the hour together reading in some book or other. So, what with the retiring humor of the worthy pair, and what with Sir John Malyoe's fancy for staying all the time shut up in his own cabin with those two trunks he held so precious, it fell upon Barnaby True in great part to show that attention to the young lady that the circumstances demanded. This he did with a great deal of satisfaction to himself--as any one may suppose who considers a spirited young man of one-and-twenty years of age and a sweet and beautiful young miss of seventeen or eighteen thrown thus together day after day for above two weeks. Accordingly, the weather being very fair and the ship driving freely along before a fine breeze, and they having no other occupation than to sit talking together all day, gazing at the blue sea and the bright sky overhead, it is not difficult to conceive of what was to befall. But oh, those days when a man is young and, whether wisely or no, fallen into such a transport of passion as poor Barnaby True suffered at that time! How often during that voyage did our hero lie awake in his berth at night, tossing this way and that without finding any refreshment of sleep--perhaps all because her hand had touched his, or because she had spoken some word to him that had possessed him with a ravishing disquietude? All this might not have befallen him had Sir John Malyoe looked after his granddaughter instead of locking himself up day and night in his own cabin, scarce venturing out except to devour his food or maybe to take two or three turns across the deck before returning again to the care of those chests he appeared to hold so much more precious than his own flesh and blood. Nor was it to be supposed that Barnaby would take the pains to consider what was to become of it all, for what young man so situated as he but would be perfectly content to live so agreeably in a fool's paradise, satisfying himself by assigning the whole affair to the future to take care of itself. Accordingly, our hero endeavored, and with pretty good success, to put away from him whatever doubts might arise in his own mind concerning what he was about, satisfying himself with making his conversation as agreeable to his companion as it lay in his power to do. So the affair continued until the end of the whole business came with a suddenness that promised for a time to cast our hero into the utmost depths of humiliation and despair. At that time the _Belle Helen_ was, according to Captain Manly's reckoning, computed that day at noon, bearing about five-and-fifty leagues northeast-by-east off the harbor of Charleston, in South Carolina. Nor was our hero likely to forget for many years afterwards even the smallest circumstance of that occasion. He may remember that it was a mightily sweet, balmy evening, the sun not having set above half an hour before, and the sky still suffused with a good deal of brightness, the air being extremely soft and mild. He may remember with the utmost nicety how they were leaning over the rail of the vessel looking out towards the westward, she fallen mightily quiet as though occupied with very serious thoughts. Of a sudden she began, without any preface whatever, to speak to Barnaby about herself and her affairs, in a most confidential manner, such as she had never used to him before. She told him that she and her grandfather were going to New York that they might take passage thence to Boston, in Massachusetts, where they were to meet her cousin Captain Malyoe, who was stationed in garrison at that place. Continuing, she said that Captain Malyoe was the next heir to the Devonshire estate, and that she and he were to be married in the fall. You may conceive into what a confusion of distress such a confession as this, delivered so suddenly, must have cast poor Barnaby. He could answer her not a single word, but stood staring in another direction than hers, endeavoring to compose himself into some equanimity of spirit. For indeed it was a sudden, terrible blow, and his breath came as hot and dry as ashes in his throat. Meanwhile the young lady went on to say, though in a mightily constrained voice, that she had liked him from the very first moment she had seen him, and had been very happy for these days she had passed in his society, and that she would always think of him as a dear friend who had been very kind to her, who had so little pleasure in her life. At last Barnaby made shift to say, though in a hoarse and croaking voice, that Captain Malyoe must be a very happy man, and that if he were in Captain Malyoe's place he would be the happiest man in the world. Thereupon, having so found his voice, he went on to tell her, though in a prodigious confusion and perturbation of spirit, that he too loved her, and that what she had told him struck him to the heart, and made him the most miserable, unhappy wretch in the whole world. She exhibited no anger at what he said, nor did she turn to look at him, but only replied, in a low voice, that he should not talk so, for that it could only be a pain to them both to speak of such things, and that whether she would or no, she must do everything her grandfather bade her, he being indeed a terrible man. To this poor Barnaby could only repeat that he loved her with all his heart, that he had hoped for nothing in his love, but that he was now the most miserable man in the world. It was at this moment, so momentous to our hero, that some one who had been hiding unseen nigh them for all the while suddenly moved away, and Barnaby, in spite of the gathering darkness, could perceive that it was that villain man-servant of Sir John Malyoe's. Nor could he but know that the wretch must have overheard all that had been said. As he looked he beheld this fellow go straight to the great cabin, where he disappeared with a cunning leer upon his face, so that our hero could not but be aware that the purpose of the eavesdropper must be to communicate all that he had overheard to his master. At this thought the last drop of bitterness was added to his trouble, for what could be more distressing to any man of honor than to possess the consciousness that such a wretch should have overheard so sacred a conversation as that which he had enjoyed with the young lady. She, upon her part, could not have been aware that the man had listened to what she had been saying, for she still continued leaning over the rail, and Barnaby remained standing by her side, without moving, but so distracted by a tumult of many passions that he knew not how or where to look. After a pretty long time of this silence, the young lady looked up to see why her companion had not spoken for so great a while, and at that very moment Sir John Malyoe comes flinging out of the cabin without his hat, but carrying his gold-headed cane. He ran straight across the deck towards where Barnaby and the young lady stood, swinging his cane this way and that with a most furious and threatening countenance, while the informer, grinning like an ape, followed close at his heels. As Sir John approached them, he cried out in so loud a voice that all on deck might have heard him, "You hussy!" (And all the time, you are to remember, he was swinging his cane as though he would have struck the young lady, who, upon her part, shrank back from him almost upon the deck as though to escape such a blow.) "You hussy! What do you do here, talking with a misbred Yankee supercargo not fit for a gentlewoman to wipe her feet upon, and you stand there and listen to his fool talk! Go to your room, you hussy"--only 'twas something worse he called her this time--"before I lay this cane across you!" You may suppose into what fury such words as these, spoken in Barnaby's hearing, not to mention that vile slur set upon himself, must have cast our hero. To be sure he scarcely knew what he did, but he put his hand against Sir John Malyoe's breast and thrust him back most violently, crying out upon him at the same time for daring so to threaten a young lady, and that for a farthing he would wrench the stick out of his hand and throw it overboard. A little farther and Sir John would have fallen flat upon the deck with the push Barnaby gave him. But he contrived, by catching hold of the rail, to save his balance. Whereupon, having recovered himself, he came running at our hero like a wild beast, whirling his cane about, and I do believe would have struck him (and God knows then what might have happened) had not his man-servant caught him and held him back. "Keep back!" cried out our hero, still mighty hoarse. "Keep back! If you strike me with that stick I'll fling you overboard!" By this time, what with the sound of loud voices and the stamping of feet, some of the crew and others aboard were hurrying up to the scene of action. At the same time Captain Manly and the first mate, Mr. Freesden, came running out of the cabin. As for our hero, having got set agoing, he was not to be stopped so easily. "And who are you, anyhow," he cries, his voice mightily hoarse even in his own ears, "to threaten to strike me! You may be a bloody pirate, and you may shoot a man from behind, as you shot poor Captain Brand on the Cobra River, but you won't dare strike me face to face. I know who you are and what you are!" As for Sir John Malyoe, had he been struck of a sudden by palsy, he could not have stopped more dead short in his attack upon our hero. There he stood, his great, bulging eyes staring like those of a fish, his face as purple as a cherry. As for Master Informer, Barnaby had the satisfaction of seeing that he had stopped his grinning by now and was holding his master's arm as though to restrain him from any further act of violence. By this time Captain Manly had come bustling up and demanded to know what all the disturbance meant. Whereupon our hero cried out, still in the extremity of passion: "The villain insulted me and insulted the young lady; he threatened to strike me with his cane. But he sha'n't strike me. I know who he is and what he is. I know what he's got in his cabin in those two trunks, and I know where he found it, and whom it belongs to." At this Captain Manly clapped his hand upon our hero's shoulder and fell to shaking him so that he could hardly stand, crying out to him the while to be silent. Says he: "How do you dare, an officer of this ship, to quarrel with a passenger of mine! Go straight to your cabin, and stay there till I give you leave to come out again." At this Master Barnaby came somewhat back to himself. "But he threatened to strike me with his cane," he says, "and that I won't stand from any man!" "No matter for that," says Captain Manly, very sternly. "Go to your cabin, as I bid you, and stay there till I tell you to come out again, and when we get to New York I'll take pains to inform your step-father of how you have behaved. I'll have no such rioting as this aboard my ship." By this time, as you may suppose, the young lady was gone. As for Sir John Malyoe, he stood in the light of a lantern, his face that had been so red now gone as white as ashes, and if a look could kill, to be sure he would have destroyed Barnaby True where he stood. It was thus that the events of that memorable day came to a conclusion. How little did any of the actors of the scene suspect that a portentous Fate was overhanging them, and was so soon to transform all their present circumstances into others that were to be perfectly different! And how little did our hero suspect what was in store for him upon the morrow, as with hanging head he went to his cabin, and shutting the door upon himself, and flinging himself down upon his berth, there yielded himself over to the profoundest depths of humiliation and despair. V From his melancholy meditations Barnaby, by-and-by and in spite of himself, began dropping off into a loose slumber, disturbed by extravagant dreams of all sorts, in which Sir John Malyoe played some important and malignant part. From one of these dreams he was aroused to meet a new and startling fate, by hearing the sudden and violent explosion of a pistol-shot ring out as though in his ears. This was followed immediately by the sound of several other shots exchanged in rapid succession as coming from the deck above. At the same instant a blow of such excessive violence shook the _Belle Helen_ that the vessel heeled over before it, and Barnaby was at once aware that another craft--whether by accident or with intention he did not know--must have run afoul of them. Upon this point, and as to whether or not the collision was designed, he was, however, not left a moment in doubt, for even as the _Belle Helen_ righted to her true keel, there was the sound of many footsteps running across the deck and down into the great cabin. Then proceeded a prodigious uproar of voices, together with the struggling of men's bodies being tossed about, striking violently against the partitions and bulkheads. At the same instant arose a screaming of women's voices, and one voice, that of Sir John Malyoe, crying out as in the greatest extremity: "You villains! You damned villains!" and with that the sudden detonation of a pistol fired into the close space of the great cabin. Long before this time Barnaby was out in the middle of his own cabin. Taking only sufficient time to snatch down one of the pistols that hung at the head of his berth, he flung out into the great cabin, to find it as black as night, the lantern slung there having been either blown out or dashed out into darkness. All was as black as coal, and the gloom was filled with a hubbub of uproar and confusion, above which sounded continually the shrieking of women's voices. Nor had our hero taken above a couple of steps before he pitched headlong over two or three men struggling together upon the deck, falling with a great clatter and the loss of his pistol, which, however, he regained almost immediately. What all the uproar portended he could only guess, but presently hearing Captain Manly's voice calling out, "You bloody pirate, would you choke me to death?" he became immediately aware of what had befallen the _Belle Helen_, and that they had been attacked by some of those buccaneers who at that time infested the waters of America in prodigious numbers. It was with this thought in his mind that, looking towards the companionway, he beheld, outlined against the darkness of the night without, the form of a man's figure, standing still and motionless as a statue in the midst of all this tumult, and thereupon, as by some instinct, knew that that must be the master-maker of all this devil's brew. Therewith, still kneeling upon the deck, he covered the bosom of that figure point-blank, as he supposed, with his pistol, and instantly pulled the trigger. In the light of the pistol fire, Barnaby had only sufficient opportunity to distinguish a flat face wearing a large pair of mustachios, a cocked hat trimmed with gold lace, a red scarf, and brass buttons. Then the darkness, very thick and black, again swallowed everything. But if our hero failed to clearly perceive the countenance towards which he had discharged his weapon, there was one who appeared to have recognized some likeness in it, for Sir John Malyoe's voice, almost at Barnaby's elbow, cried out thrice in loud and violent tones, "William Brand! William Brand! William Brand!" and thereat came the sound of some heavy body falling down upon the deck. This was the last that our hero may remember of that notable attack, for the next moment whether by accident or design he never knew, he felt himself struck so terrible a blow upon the side of the head, that he instantly swooned dead away and knew no more. VI When Barnaby True came back to his senses again, it was to become aware that he was being cared for with great skill and nicety, that his head had been bathed with cold water, and that a bandage was being bound about it as carefully as though a chirurgeon was attending to him. He had been half conscious of people about him, but could not immediately recall what had happened to him, nor until he had opened his eyes to find himself in a perfectly strange cabin of narrow dimensions but extremely well fitted and painted with white and gold. By the light of a lantern shining in his eyes, together with the gray of the early day through the deadlight, he could perceive that two men were bending over him--one, a negro in a striped shirt, with a yellow handkerchief around his head and silver ear-rings in his ears; the other, a white man, clad in a strange, outlandish dress of a foreign make, with great mustachios hanging down below his chin, and with gold ear-rings in his ears. It was this last who was attending to Barnaby's hurt with such extreme care and gentleness. All this Barnaby saw with his first clear consciousness after his swoon. Then remembering what had befallen him, and his head beating as though it would split asunder, he shut his eyes again, contriving with great effort to keep himself from groaning aloud, and wondering as to what sort of pirates these could be, who would first knock a man in the head so terrible a blow as that which he had suffered, and then take such care to fetch him back to life again, and to make him easy and comfortable. Nor did he open his eyes again, but lay there marvelling thus until the bandage was properly tied about his head and sewed together. Then once more he opened his eyes and looked up to ask where he was. Upon hearing him speak, his attendants showed excessive signs of joy, nodding their heads and smiling at him as though to reassure him. But either because they did not choose to reply, or else because they could not speak English, they made no answer, excepting by those signs and gestures. The white man, however, made several motions that our hero was to arise, and, still grinning and nodding his head, pointed as though towards a saloon beyond. At the same time the negro held up our hero's coat and beckoned for him to put it on. Accordingly Barnaby, seeing that it was required of him to quit the place in which he then lay, arose, though with a good deal of effort, and permitted the negro to help him on with his coat, though feeling mightily dizzy and much put about to keep upon his legs--his head beating fit to split asunder and the vessel rolling and pitching at a great rate, as though upon a heavy cross-sea. So, still sick and dizzy, he went out into what he found was, indeed, a fine saloon beyond, painted in white and gilt like the cabin he had just quitted. This saloon was fitted in the most excellent taste imaginable. A table extended the length of the room, and a quantity of bottles, and glasses clear as crystal, were arranged in rows in a hanging rack above. But what most attracted our hero's attention was a man sitting with his back to him, his figure clad in a rough pea-jacket, and with a red handkerchief tied around his throat. His feet were stretched under the table out before him, and he was smoking a pipe of tobacco with all the ease and comfort imaginable. As Barnaby came in he turned round, and, to the profound astonishment of our hero, presented to him in the light of the lantern, the dawn shining pretty strong through the skylight, the face of that very man who had conducted the mysterious expedition that night across Kingston Harbor to the Cobra River. VII This man looked steadily at Barnaby True for above half a minute and then burst out a-laughing. And, indeed, Barnaby, standing there with the bandage about his head, must have looked a very droll picture of that astonishment he felt so profoundly at finding who was this pirate into whose hands he had fallen. "Well," says the other, "and so you be up at last, and no great harm done, I'll be bound. And how does your head feel by now, my young master?" To this Barnaby made no reply, but, what with wonder and the dizziness of his head, seated himself at the table over against his interlocutor, who pushed a bottle of rum towards him, together with a glass from the hanging rack. He watched Barnaby fill his glass, and so soon as he had done so began immediately by saying: "I do suppose you think you were treated mightily ill to be so handled last night. Well, so you were treated ill enough, though who hit you that crack upon the head I know no more than a child unborn. Well, I am sorry for the way you were handled, but there is this much to say, and of that you may feel well assured, that nothing was meant to you but kindness, and before you are through with us all you will believe that without my having to tell you so." Here he helped himself to a taste of grog, and sucking in his lips went on again with what he had to say. "Do you remember," says he, "that expedition of ours in Kingston Harbor, and how we were all of us balked that night?" then, without waiting for Barnaby's reply: "And do you remember what I said to that villain Jack Malyoe that night as his boat went by us? I says to him, 'Jack Malyoe,' says I, 'you've got the better of us once again, but next time it will be our turn, even if William Brand himself has to come back from the grave to settle with you.'" "I remember something of the sort," said Barnaby, "but I profess I am all in the dark as to what you are driving at." At this the other burst out in a great fit of laughing. "Very well, then," said he, "this night's work is only the ending of what was so ill begun there. Look yonder"--pointing to a corner of the cabin--"and then maybe you will be in the dark no longer." Barnaby turned his head and there beheld in the corner of the saloon those very two travelling-cases that Sir John Malyoe had been so particular to keep in his cabin and under his own eyes through all the voyage from Jamaica. "I'll show you what is in 'em," says the other, and thereupon arose, and Barnaby with him, and so went over to where the two travelling-cases stood. Our hero had a strong enough suspicion as to what the cases contained. But, Lord! what were suspicions to what his two eyes beheld when that man lifted the lid of one of them--the locks thereof having already been forced--and, flinging it back, displayed to Barnaby's astonished and bedazzled sight a great treasure of gold and silver, some of it tied up in leathern bags, to be sure, but so many of the coins, big and little, yellow and white, lying loose in the cases as to make our hero think that a great part of the treasures of the Indies lay there before him. "Well, and what do you think of that?" said the other. "Is it not enough for a man to turn pirate for?" and thereupon burst out a-laughing and clapped down the lid again. Then suddenly turning serious: "Come Master Barnaby," says he. "I am to have some very sober talk with you, so fill up your glass again and then we will heave at it." Nor even in after years, nor in the light of that which afterwards occurred, could Barnaby repeat all that was said to him upon that occasion, for what with the pounding and beating of his aching head, and what with the wonder of what he had seen, he was altogether in the dark as to the greater part of what the other told him. That other began by saying that Barnaby, instead of being sorry that he was William Brand's grandson, might thank God for it; that he (Barnaby) had been watched and cared for for twenty years in more ways than he would ever know; that Sir John Malyoe had been watched also for all that while, and that it was a vastly strange thing that Sir John Malyoe's debts in England and Barnaby's coming of age should have brought them so together in Jamaica--though, after all, it was all for the best, as Barnaby himself should presently see, and thank God for that also. For now all the debts against that villain Jack Malyoe were settled in full, principal and interest, to the last penny, and Barnaby was to enjoy it the most of all. Here the fellow took a very comfortable sip of his grog, and then went on to say with a very cunning and knowing wink of the eye that Barnaby was not the only passenger aboard, but that there was another in whose company he would be glad enough, no doubt, to finish the balance of the voyage he was now upon. So now, if Barnaby was sufficiently composed, he should be introduced to that other passenger. Thereupon, without waiting for a reply, he incontinently arose and, putting away the bottle of rum and the glasses, went across the saloon--Barnaby watching him all the while like a man in a dream--and opened the door of a cabin like that which Barnaby had occupied a little while before. He was gone only for a moment, for almost immediately he came out again ushering a lady before him. By now the daylight in the cabin was grown strong and clear, so that the light shining full upon her face, Barnaby True knew her the instant she appeared. It was Miss Marjorie Malyoe, very white, but strangely composed, showing no terror, either in her countenance or in her expression. * * * * * It would not be possible for the writer to give any clear idea of the circumstances of the days that immediately followed, and which, within a week, brought Barnaby True and the enchanting object of his affections at once to the ending of their voyage, and of all these marvellous adventures. For when, in after times, our hero would endeavor to revive a memory of the several occurrences that then transpired, they all appeared as though in a dream or a bewitching phantasm. All that he could recall were long days of delicious enjoyment followed by nights of dreaming. But how enchanting those days! How exquisite the distraction of those nights! Upon occasions he and his charmer might sit together under the shade of the sail for an hour at a stretch, he holding her hand in his and neither saying a single word, though at times the transports of poor Barnaby's emotions would go far to suffocate him with their rapture. As for her face at such moments, it appeared sometimes to assume a transparency as though of a light shining from behind her countenance. The vessel in which they found themselves was a brigantine of good size and build, but manned by a considerable crew, the most strange and outlandish in their appearance that Barnaby had ever beheld. For some were white, some were yellow, and some were black, and all were tricked out with gay colors, and gold ear-rings in their ears, and some with long mustachios, and others with handkerchiefs tied around their heads. And all these spoke together a jargon of which Barnaby True could not understand a single word, but which might have been Portuguese from one or two phrases he afterwards remembered. Nor did this outlandish crew, of God knows what sort of men, address any of their conversation either to Barnaby or to the young lady. They might now and then have looked at him and her out of the corners of their yellow eyes, but that was all; otherwise they were, indeed, like the creatures of a dream. Only he who was commander of this strange craft, when he would come down into the saloon to mix a glass of grog or to light a pipe of tobacco, would maybe favor Barnaby with a few words concerning the weather or something of the sort, and then to go on deck again about his business. Indeed, it may be affirmed with pretty easy security that no such adventure as this ever happened before; for here were these two innocent young creatures upon board of a craft that no one, under such circumstances as those recounted above, could doubt was a pirate or buccaneer, the crew whereof had seen no one knows what wicked deeds; yet they two as remote from all that and as profoundly occupied with the transports of their passion and as innocent in their satisfaction thereof as were Corydon and Phyllis beside their purling streams and flowery meads, with nymphs and satyrs caracoling about them. VIII It is probable that the polite reader of this veracious narrative, instead of considering it as the effort of the author to set before him a sober and well-digested history, has been all this while amusing himself by regarding it only as a fanciful tale designed for his entertainment. If this be so, the writer may hardly hope to convince him that what is to follow is a serious narrative of that which, though never so ingenuous in its recapitulation, is an altogether inexplicable phenomenon. Accordingly, it is with extraordinary hesitation that the scribe now invites the confidence of his reader in the succinct truth of that which he has to relate. It is in brief as follows: That upon the last night of this part of his voyage, Barnaby True was awakened from slumber by flashes of lightning shining into his cabin, and by the loud pealing of approaching thunder. At the same time observing the sound of footsteps moving back and forth as in great agitation overhead, and the loud shouting of orders, he became aware that a violent squall of wind must be approaching the vessel. Being convinced of this he arose from his berth, dressed quickly, and hurried upon deck, where he found a great confusion of men running hither and thither and scrambling up and down the rigging like monkeys, while the Captain, and one whom he had come to know as the Captain's mate, were shouting out orders in a strange foreign jargon. A storm was indeed approaching with great rapidity, a prodigious circle of rain and clouds whirling overhead like smoke, while the lightning, every now and then, flashed with intense brightness, followed by loud peals of thunder. By these flashes of lightning Barnaby observed that they had made land during the night, for in the sudden glare of bright light he beheld a mountainous headland and a long strip of sandy beach standing out against the blackness of the night beyond. So much he was able to distinguish, though what coast it might be he could not tell, for presently another flash falling from the sky, he saw that the shore was shut out by the approaching downfall of rain. This rain came presently streaming down upon them with a great gust of wind and a deal of white foam across the water. This violent gale of wind suddenly striking the vessel, careened it to one side so that for a moment it was with much ado that he was able to keep his feet at all. Indeed, what with the noise of the tempest through the rigging and the flashes of lightning and the pealing of the thunder and the clapping of an unfurled sail in the darkness, and the shouting of orders in a strange language by the Captain of the craft, who was running up and down like a bedlamite, it was like pandemonium with all the devils of the pit broke loose into the night. It was at this moment, and Barnaby True was holding to the back-stays, when a sudden, prolonged flash of lightning came after a continued space of darkness. So sharp and heavy was this shaft that for a moment the night was as bright as day, and in that instant occurred that which was so remarkable that it hath afforded the title of this story itself. For there, standing plain upon the deck and not far from the companionway, as though he had just come up from below, our hero beheld a figure the face of which he had seen so imperfectly once before by the flash of his own pistol in the darkness. Upon this occasion, however, the whole figure was stamped out with intense sharpness against the darkness, and Barnaby beheld, as clear as day, a great burly man, clad in a tawdry tinsel coat, with a cocked hat with gold braid upon his head. His legs, with petticoat breeches and cased in great leathern sea-boots pulled up to his knees, stood planted wide apart as though to brace against the slant of the deck. The face our hero beheld to be as white as dough, with fishy eyes and a bony forehead, on the side of which was a great smear as of blood. All this, as was said, stood out as sharp and clear as daylight in that one flash of lightning, and then upon the instant was gone again, as though swallowed up into the darkness, while a terrible clap of thunder seemed to split the very heavens overhead and a strong smell as of brimstone filled the air around about. At the same moment some voice cried out from the darkness, "William Brand, by God!" Then, the rain clapping down in a deluge, Barnaby leaped into the saloon, pursued by he knew not what thoughts. For if that was indeed the image of old William Brand that he had seen once before and now again, then the grave must indeed have gaped and vomited out its dead into the storm of wind and lightning; for what he beheld that moment, he hath ever averred, he saw as clear as ever he saw his hand before his face. This is the last account of which there is any record when the figure of Captain William Brand was beheld by the eyes of a living man. It must have occurred just off the Highlands below the Sandy Hook, for the next morning when Barnaby True came upon deck it was to find the sun shining brightly and the brigantine riding upon an even keel, at anchor off Staten Island, three or four cable-lengths distance from a small village on the shore, and the town of New York in plain sight across the water. 'Twas the last place in the world he had expected to see. IX And, indeed, it did seem vastly strange to lie there alongside Staten Island all that day, with New York town in plain sight across the water and yet so impossible to reach. For whether he desired to escape or no, Barnaby True could not but observe that both he and the young lady were so closely watched that they might as well have been prisoners, tied hand and foot and laid in the hold, so far as any hope of getting away was concerned. Throughout that day there was a vast deal of mysterious coming and going aboard the brigantine, and in the afternoon a sail-boat went up to the town, carrying the Captain of the brigantine and a great load in the stern covered over with a tarpaulin. What was so taken up to the town Barnaby did not then guess, nor did he for a moment suspect of what vast importance it was to be for him. About sundown the small boat returned, fetching the pirate Captain of the brigantine back again. Coming aboard and finding Barnaby on deck, the other requested him to come down into the saloon for he had a few serious words to say to him. In the saloon they found the young lady sitting, the broad light of the evening shining in through the skylight, and making it all pretty bright within. The Captain commanded Barnaby to be seated, whereupon he chose a place alongside the young lady. So soon as he had composed himself the Captain began very seriously, with a preface somewhat thus: "Though you may think me the Captain of this brigantine, Master Barnaby True, I am not really so, but am under orders of a superior whom I have obeyed in all these things that I have done." Having said so much as this, he continued his address to say that there was one thing yet remaining for him to do, and that the greatest thing of all. He said that this was something that both Barnaby and the young lady were to be called upon to perform, and he hoped that they would do their part willingly; but that whether they did it willingly or no, do it they must, for those also were the orders he had received. You may guess how our hero was disturbed by this prologue. He had found the young lady's hand beneath the table and he now held it very closely in his own; but whatever might have been his expectations as to the final purport of the communications the other was about to favor him with, his most extreme expectations could not have equalled that which was demanded of him. "My orders are these," said his interlocutor, continuing: "I am to take you and the young lady ashore, and to see that you are married before I quit you, and to that end a very good, decent, honest minister who lives ashore yonder in the village was chosen and hath been spoken to, and is now, no doubt, waiting for you to come. That is the last thing I am set to do; so now I will leave you and her young ladyship alone together for five minutes to talk it over, but be quick about it, for whether willing or not, this thing must be done." Thereupon he incontinently went away, as he had promised, leaving those two alone together, our hero like one turned into stone, and the young lady, her face turned away, as red as fire, as Barnaby could easily distinguish by the fading light. Nor can I tell what Barnaby said to her, nor what words or arguments he used, for so great was the distraction of his mind and the tumult of his emotions that he presently discovered that he was repeating to her over and over again that God knew he loved her, and that with all his heart and soul, and that there was nothing in all the world for him but her. After which, containing himself sufficiently to continue his address, he told her that if she would not have it as the man had said, and if she were not willing to marry him as she was bidden to do, he would rather die a thousand, aye, ten thousand, deaths than lend himself to forcing her to do such a thing as this. Nevertheless, he told her she must speak up and tell him yes or no, and that God knew he would give all the world if she would say "yes." All this and much more he said in such a tumult that he was hardly aware of what he was speaking, and she sitting there, as though her breath stifled her. Nor did he know what she replied to him, only that she would marry him. Therewith he took her into his arms and for the first time set his lips to hers, in such a transport of ecstasy that everything seemed to his sight as though he were about to swoon. So when the Captain returned to the saloon he found Barnaby sitting there holding her hand, she with her face turned away, and he so full of joy that the promise of heaven could not have made him happier. The yawl-boat belonging to the brigantine was ready and waiting alongside when they came upon deck, and immediately they descended to it and took their seats. Reaching the shore, they landed, and walked up the village street in the twilight, she clinging to our hero's arm as though she would faint away. The Captain of the brigantine and two other men aboard accompanied them to the minister's house, where they found the good man waiting for them, smoking his pipe in the warm evening, and walking up and down in front of his own door. He immediately conducted them into the house, where, his wife having fetched a candle, and two others from the village being present, the good, pious man having asked several questions as to their names and their age and where they were from, and having added his blessing, the ceremony was performed, and the certificate duly signed by those present from the village--the men who had come ashore from the brigantine alone refusing to set their hands to any paper. The same sail-boat that had taken the Captain up to the town was waiting for Barnaby and the young lady as they came down to the landing-place. There the Captain of the brigantine having wished them godspeed, and having shaken Barnaby very heartily by the hand, he helped to push off the boat, which with the slant of the wind presently sailed swiftly away, dropping the shore and those strange beings, and the brigantine in which they sailed, alike behind them into the night. They could hear through the darkness the creaking of the sails being hoisted aboard of the pirate vessel; nor did Barnaby True ever set eyes upon it or the crew again, nor, so far as the writer is informed, did anybody else. X It was nigh midnight when they made Mr. Hartright's wharf at the foot of Beaver Street. There Barnaby and the boatmen assisted the young lady ashore, and our hero and she walked up through the now silent and deserted street to Mr. Hartright's house. You may conceive of the wonder and amazement of our hero's dear step-father when aroused by Barnaby's continued knocking at the street door, and clad in a dressing-gown and carrying a lighted candle in his hand, he unlocked and unbarred the door, and so saw who it was had aroused him at such an hour of the night, and beheld the young and beautiful lady whom Barnaby had brought home with him. The first thought of the good man was that the _Belle Helen_ had come into port; nor did Barnaby undeceive him as he led the way into the house, but waited until they were all safe and sound together before he should unfold his strange and wonderful story. "This was left for you by two foreign sailors this afternoon, Barnaby," the good man said, as he led the way through the hall, holding up the candle at the same time, so that Barnaby might see an object that stood against the wainscoting by the door of the dining-room. It was with difficulty that our hero could believe his eyes when he beheld one of the treasure-chests that Sir John Malyoe had fetched with such particularity from Jamaica. He bade his step-father hold the light nigher, and then, his mother having come down-stairs by this time, he flung back the lid and displayed to the dazzled sight of all the great treasure therein contained. You are to suppose that there was no sleep for any of them that night, for what with Barnaby's narrative of his adventures, and what with the thousand questions asked of him, it was broad daylight before he had finished the half of all that he had to relate. The next day but one brought the _Belle Helen_ herself into port, with the terrible news not only of having been attacked at night by pirates, but also that Sir John Malyoe was dead. For whether it was the sudden fright that overset him, or whether it was the strain of passion that burst some blood-vessel upon his brain, it is certain that when the pirates quitted the _Belle Helen_, carrying with them the young lady and Barnaby and the travelling-trunks, they left Sir John Malyoe lying in a fit upon the floor, frothing at the mouth and black in the face, as though he had been choked. It was in this condition that he was raised and taken to his berth, where, the next morning about two o'clock, he died, without once having opened his eyes or spoken a single word. As for the villain man-servant, no one ever saw him afterwards; though whether he jumped overboard, or whether the pirates who so attacked the ship had carried him away bodily, who shall say? Mr. Hartright had been extremely perplexed as to the ownership of the chest of treasure that had been left by those men for Barnaby, but the news of the death of Sir John Malyoe made the matter very easy for him to decide. For surely if that treasure did not belong to Barnaby, there could be no doubt but that it belonged to his wife--she being Sir John Malyoe's legal heir. Thus it was that he satisfied himself, and thus that great fortune (in actual computation amounting to upward of sixty-three thousand pounds) fell to Barnaby True, the grandson of that famous pirate William Brand. As for the other case of treasure, it was never heard of again, nor could Barnaby decide whether it was divided as booty among the pirates, or whether they had carried it away with them to some strange and foreign land, there to share it among themselves. It is thus we reach the conclusion of our history, with only this to observe, that whether that strange appearance of Captain Brand was indeed a ghostly and spiritual visitation, or whether he was present on those two occasions in flesh and blood, he was, as has been said, never heard of again. IV. A TRUE HISTORY OF THE DEVIL AT NEW HOPE _At the time of the beginning of the events about to be narrated--which the reader is to be informed occurred between the years 1740 and 1742-- there stood upon the high and rugged crest of Pick-a-Neck-a-Sock Point (or Pig and Sow Point, as it had come to be called) the wooden ruins of a disused church, known throughout those parts as the Old Free Grace Meeting-house._ _This humble edifice had been erected by a peculiar religious sect calling themselves the Free Grace Believers, the radical tenet of whose creed was a denial of the existence of such a place as Hell, and an affirmation of the universal mercy of God, to the intent that all souls should enjoy eternal happiness in the life to come._ _For this dangerous heresy the Free Grace Believers were expelled from the Massachusetts Colony, and, after sundry peregrinations, settled at last in the Providence Plantations, upon Pick-a-Neck-a-Sock Point, coadjacent to the town of New Hope. There they built themselves a small cluster of huts, and a church wherein to worship; and there for a while they dwelt, earning a precarious livelihood from the ungenerous soil upon which they had established themselves._ _As may be supposed, the presence of so strange a people was entertained with no great degree of complaisance by the vicinage, and at last an old deed granting Pick-a-Neck-a-Sock to Captain Isaiah Applebody was revived by the heirs of that renowned Indian-fighter, whereupon the Free Grace Believers were warned to leave their bleak and rocky refuge for some other abiding-place. Accordingly, driven forth into the world again, they embarked in the snow[1] "Good Companion," of Bristol, for the Province of Pennsylvania, and were afterwards heard of no more in those parts. Their vacated houses crumbled away into ruins, and their church tottered to decay._ [Footnote 1: A two-masted square-rigged vessel.] _So at the beginning of these events, upon the narrative of which the author now invites the reader to embark together with himself._ I HOW THE DEVIL HAUNTED THE MEETING-HOUSE At the period of this narrative the settlement of New Hope had grown into a very considerable seaport town, doing an extremely handsome trade with the West Indies in cornmeal and dried codfish for sugar, molasses, and rum. Among the more important citizens of this now wealthy and elegant community, the most notable was Colonel William Belford--a magnate at once distinguished and honored in the civil and military affairs of the colony. This gentleman was an illegitimate son of the Earl of Clandennie by the daughter of a surgeon of the Sixty-seventh Regiment of Scots, and he had inherited a very considerable fortune upon the death of his father, from which he now enjoyed a comfortable competency. Our Colonel made no little virtue of the circumstances of his exalted birth. He was wont to address his father's memory with a sobriety that lent to the fact of his illegitimacy a portentous air of seriousness, and he made no secret of the fact that he was the friend and the confidential correspondent of the present Earl of Clandennie. In his intercourse with the several Colonial governors he assumed an attitude of authority that only his lineage could have supported him in maintaining, and, possessing a large and commanding presence, he bore himself with a continent reserve that never failed to inspire with awe those whom he saw fit to favor with his conversation. This noble and distinguished gentleman possessed in a brother an exact and perfect opposite to himself. Captain Obadiah Belford was a West Indian, an inhabitant of Kingston in the island of Jamaica. He was a cursing, swearing, hard-drinking renegado from virtue; an acknowledged dealer in negro slaves, and reputed to have been a buccaneer, if not an out-and-out pirate, such as then infested those tropical latitudes in prodigious numbers. He was not unknown in New Hope, which he had visited upon several occasions for a week or so at a time. During each period he lodged with his brother, whose household he scandalized by such freaks as smoking his pipe of tobacco in the parlor, offering questionable pleasantries to the female servants, and cursing and swearing in the hallways with a fecundity and an ingenuity that would have put the most godless sailor about the docks to the blush. Accordingly, it may then be supposed into what a dismay it threw Colonel Belford when one fine day he received a letter from Captain Obadiah, in which our West Indian desperado informed his brother that he proposed quitting those torrid latitudes in which he had lived for so long a time, and that he intended thenceforth to make his home in New Hope. Addressing Colonel Belford as "My dear Billy," he called upon that gentleman to rejoice at this determination, and informed him that he proposed in future to live "as decent a limb of grace as ever broke loose from hell," and added that he was going to fetch as a present for his niece Belinda a "dam pirty little black girl" to carry her prayer-book to church for her. Accordingly, one fine morning, in pursuance of this promise, our West Indian suddenly appeared at New Hope with a prodigious quantity of chests and travelling-cases, and with so vociferous an acclamation that all the town knew of his arrival within a half-hour of that event. When, however, he presented himself before Colonel Belford, it was to meet with a welcome so frigid and an address so reserved that a douche of cold water could not have quenched his verbosity more entirely. For our great man had no notion to submit to the continued infliction of the West Indian's presence. Accordingly, after the first words of greeting had passed, he addressed Captain Obadiah in a strain somewhat after this fashion: "Indeed, I protest, my dear brother Obadiah, it is with the heartiest regrets in the world that I find myself obliged to confess that I cannot offer you a home with myself and my family. It is not alone that your manners displease me--though, as an elder to a younger, I may say to you that we of these more northern latitudes do not entertain the same tastes in such particulars as doubtless obtain in the West Indies--but the habits of my household are of such a nature that I could not hope to form them to your liking. I can, however, offer as my advice that you may find lodgings at the Blue Lion Tavern, which doubtless will be of a sort exactly to fit your inclinations. I have made inquiries, and I am sure you will find the very best apartments to be obtained at that excellent hostelry placed at your disposal." To this astounding address our West Indian could, for a moment, make no other immediate reply than to open his eyes and to glare upon Colonel Belford, so that, what with his tall, lean person, his long neck, his stooping shoulders, and his yellow face stained upon one side an indigo blue by some premature explosion of gunpowder--what with all this and a prodigious hooked beak of a nose, he exactly resembled some hungry predatory bird of prey meditating a pounce upon an unsuspecting victim. At last, finding his voice, and rapping the ferrule of his ivory-headed cane upon the floor to emphasize his declamation, he cried out: "What! What! What! Is this the way to offer a welcome to a brother new returned to your house? Why, ---- ----! who are you? Am not I your brother, who could buy you out twice over and have enough left to live in velvet? Why! Why!--Very well, then, have it your own way; but if I don't grind your face into the mud and roll you into the dirt my name is not Obadiah Belford!" Thereupon, striving to say more but finding no fit words for the occasion, he swung upon his heel and incontinently departed, banging the door behind him like a clap of thunder, and cursing and swearing so prodigiously as he strode away down the street that an infernal from the pit could scarcely have exceeded the fury of his maledictions. However, he so far followed Colonel Belford's advice that he took up his lodgings at the Blue Lion Tavern, where, in a little while, he had gathered about him a court of all such as chose to take advantage of his extravagant bounty. Indeed, he poured out his money with incredible profusion, declaring, with many ingenious and self-consuming oaths, that he could match fortunes with the best two men in New Hope, and then have enough left to buy up his brother from his hair to his boot-leathers. He made no secret of the rebuff he had sustained from Colonel Belford, for his grievance clung to him like hot pitch--itching the more he meddled with it. Sometimes his fury was such that he could scarcely contain himself. Upon such occasions, cursing and swearing like an infernal, he would call Heaven to witness that he would live in New Hope if for no other reason than to bring shame to his brother, and he would declare again and again, with incredible variety of expletives, that he would grind his brother's face into the dirt for him. [Illustration: "HE WOULD SHOUT OPPROBRIOUS WORDS AFTER THE OTHER IN THE STREETS"] Accordingly he set himself assiduously at work to tease and torment the good man with every petty and malicious trick his malevolence could invent. He would shout opprobrious words after the other in the streets, to the entertainment of all who heard him; he would parade up and down before Colonel Belford's house singing obstreperous and unseemly songs at the top of his voice; he would even rattle the ferrule of his cane against the palings of the fence, or throw a stone at Madam Belford's cat in the wantonness of his malice. Meantime he had purchased a considerable tract of land, embracing Pig and Sow Point, and including the Old Free Grace Meeting-House. Here, he declared, it was his intention to erect a house for himself that should put his brother's wooden shed to shame. Accordingly he presently began the erection of that edifice, so considerable in size and occupying so commanding a situation that it was the admiration of all those parts, and was known to fame as Belford's Palace. This magnificent residence was built entirely of brick, and Captain Obadiah made it a boast that the material therefor was brought all the way around from New York in flats. In the erection of this elegant structure all the carpenters and masons in the vicinage were employed, so that it grew up with an amazing rapidity. Meantime, upon the site of the building, rum and Hollands were kept upon draught for all comers, so that the place was made the common resort and the scene for the orgies of all such of the common people as possessed a taste for strong waters, many coming from so far away as Newport to enjoy our Captain's prodigality. Meantime he himself strutted about the streets in his red coat trimmed with gilt braid, his hat cocked upon one side of his bony head, pleasing himself with the belief that he was the object of universal admiration, and swelling with a vast and consummate self-satisfaction as he boasted, with strident voice and extravagant enunciation, of the magnificence of the palace he was building. At the same time, having, as he said, shingles to spare, he patched and repaired the Old Free Grace Meeting-House, so that its gray and hoary exterior, while rejuvenated as to the roof and walls, presented in a little while an appearance as of a sudden eruption of bright yellow shingles upon its aged hide. Nor would our Captain offer any other explanation for so odd a freak of fancy than to say that it pleased him to do as he chose with his own. At last, the great house having been completed, and he himself having entered into it and furnished it to his satisfaction, our Captain presently began entertaining his friends therein with a profuseness of expenditure and an excess of extravagance that were the continued admiration of the whole colony. In more part the guests whom Captain Obadiah thus received with so lavish an indulgence were officers or government officials from the garrisons of Newport or of Boston, with whom, by some means or other, he had scraped an acquaintance. At times these gay gentlemen would fairly take possession of the town, parading up and down the street under conduct of their host, staring ladies out of countenance with the utmost coolness and effrontery, and offering loud and critical remarks concerning all that they beheld about them, expressing their opinions with the greatest freedom and jocularity. Nor were the orgies at Belford's Palace limited to such extravagances as gaming and dicing and drinking, for sometimes the community would be scandalized by the presence of gayly dressed and high-colored ladies, who came, no one knew whence, to enjoy the convivialities at the great house on the hill, and concerning whom it pleased the respectable folk of New Hope to entertain the gravest suspicion. At first these things raised such a smoke that nothing else was to be seen, but by-and-by other strange and singular circumstances began to be spoken of--at first among the common people, and then by others. It began to be whispered and then to be said that the Old Free Grace Meeting-House out on the Point was haunted by the Devil. The first information concerning this dreadful obsession arose from a fisherman, who, coming into the harbor of a nightfall after a stormy day, had, as he affirmed, beheld the old meeting-house all of a blaze of light. Some time after, a tinker, making a short-cut from Stapleton by way of the old Indian road, had a view of a similar but a much more remarkable manifestation. This time, as the itinerant most solemnly declared, the meeting-house was not only seen all alight, but a bell was ringing as a signal somewhere off across the darkness of the water, where, as he protested, there suddenly appeared a red star, that, blazing like a meteor with a surpassing brightness for a few seconds, was presently swallowed up into inky darkness again. Upon another occasion a fiddler, returning home after midnight from Sprowle's Neck, seeing the church alight, had, with a temerity inflamed by rum, approached to a nearer distance, whence, lying in the grass, he had, he said, at the stroke of midnight, beheld a multitude of figures emerge from the building, crying most dolorously, and then had heard a voice, as of a lost spirit, calling aloud, "Six-and-twenty, all told!" whereat the light in the church was instantly extinguished into an impenetrable darkness. It was said that when Captain Obadiah himself was first apprised of the suspicions entertained of the demoniacal possession of the old meeting-house, he had fixed upon his venturesome informant so threatening and ominous a gaze that the other could move neither hand nor foot under the malignant fury of his observation. Then, at last, clearing his countenance of its terrors, he had burst into a great, loud laugh, crying out: "Well, what then? Why not? You must know that the Devil and I have been very good friends in times past. I saw a deal of him in the West Indies, and I must tell you that I built up the old meeting-house again so that he and I could talk together now and then about old times without having a lot of ----, dried, codfish-eating, rum-drinking Yankee bacon-chewers to listen to every word we had to say to each other. If you must know, it was only last night that the ghost of Jezebel and I danced a fandango together in the graveyard up yonder, while the Devil himself sat cross-legged on old Daniel Root's tombstone and blew on a dry, dusty shank-bone by way of a flute. And now" (here he swore a terrific oath) "you know the worst that is to be known, with only this to say: if ever a man sets foot upon Pig and Sow Point again after nightfall to interfere with the Devil's sport and mine, hell suffer for it as sure as fire can burn or brimstone can scorch. So put that in your pipe and smoke it." These terrible words, however extravagant, were, to be sure, in the nature of a direct confirmation of the very worst suspicion that could have been entertained concerning this dolorous affair. But if any further doubt lingered as to the significance of such malevolent rumors, Captain Obadiah himself soon put an end to the same. The Reverend Josiah Pettibones was used of a Saturday to take supper at Colonel Belford's elegant residence. It was upon such an occasion and the reverend gentleman and his honored host were smoking a pipe of tobacco together in the library, when there fell a loud and importunate knocking at the house door, and presently the servant came ushering no less a personage than Captain Obadiah himself. After directing a most cunning, mischievous look at his brother, Captain Obadiah addressed himself directly to the Reverend Mr. Pettibones, folding his hands with a most indescribable air of mock humility. "Sir," says he--"Reverend sir, you see before you a humble and penitent sinner, who has fallen so desperately deep into iniquities that he knows not whether even so profound piety as yours can elevate him out of the pit in which he finds himself. Sir, it has got about the town that the Devil has taken possession of my old meeting-house, and, alas! I have to confess--_that it is the truth_." Here our Captain hung his head down upon his breast as though overwhelmed with the terrible communication he had made. "What is this that I hear?" cried the reverend gentleman. "Can I believe my ears?" "Believe your ears!" exclaimed Colonel Belford. "To be sure you cannot believe your ears. Do you not see that this is a preposterous lie, and that he is telling it to you to tease and to mortify me?" At this Captain Obadiah favored his brother with a look of exaggerated and sanctimonious humility. "Alas, brother," he cried out, "for accusing me so unjustly! Fie upon you! Would you check a penitent in his confession? But you must know that it is to this gentleman that I address myself, and not to you." Then directing his discourse once more to the Reverend Mr. Pettibones, he resumed his address thus: "Sir, you must know that while I was in the West Indies I embarked, among other things, in one of those ventures against the Spanish Main of which you may have heard." "Do you mean piracy?" asked the Reverend Pettibones; and Captain Obadiah nodded his head. "'Tis a lie!" cried Colonel Belford, smacking his hand upon the table. "He never possessed spirit enough for anything so dangerous as piracy or more mischievous than slave-trading." "Sir," quoth Captain Obadiah to the reverend gentleman, "again I say 'tis to you I address my confession. Well, sir, one day we sighted a Spanish caravel very rich ladened with a prodigious quantity of plate, but were without so much as a capful of wind to fetch us up with her. 'I would,' says I, 'offer the Devil my soul for a bit of a breeze to bring us alongside.' 'Done,' says a voice beside me, and--alas that I must confess it!--there I saw a man with a very dark countenance, whom I had never before beheld aboard of our ship. 'Sign this,' says he, 'and the breeze is yours!' 'What is it upon the pen?' says I. "'Tis blood,' says he. Alas, sir! what was a poor wretch so tempted as I to do?" "And did you sign?" asked Mr. Pettibones, all agog to hear the conclusion of so strange a narration. "Woe is me, sir, that I should have done so!" quoth Captain Obadiah, rolling his eyes until little but the whites of them were to be seen. "And did you catch the Spanish ship?" "That we did, sir, and stripped her as clean as a whistle." "'Tis all a prodigious lie!" cried Colonel Belford, in a fury. "Sir, can you sit so complacently and be made a fool of by so extravagant a fable?" "Indeed it is unbelievable," said Mr. Pettibones. At this faint reply, Captain Obadiah burst out laughing; then renewing his narrative--"Indeed, sir," he declared, "you may believe me or not, as you please. Nevertheless, I may tell you that, having so obtained my prize, and having time to think coolly over the bargain I had made, I says to myself, says I: 'Obediah Belford! Obadiah Belford, here is a pretty pickle you are in. 'Tis time you quit these parts and lived decent, or else you are damned to all eternity.' And so I came hither to New Hope, reverend sir, hoping to end my days in quiet. Alas, sir! would you believe it? scarce had I finished my fine new house up at the Point when hither comes that evil being to whom I had sold my sorrowful soul. 'Obadiah,' says he, 'Obadiah Belford, I have a mind to live in New Hope also,' 'Where?' says I. 'Well,' says he, 'you may patch up the old meetinghouse; 'twill serve my turn for a while.' 'Well,' thinks I to myself, 'there can be no harm in that,' And so I did as he bade me-- and would not you do as much for one who had served you as well? Alas, your reverence! there he is now, and I cannot get rid of him, and 'tis over the whole town that he has the meeting-house in possession." "Tis an incredible story!" cried the Reverend Pettibones. "'Tis a lie from beginning to end!" cried the Colonel. "And now how shall I get myself out of my pickle?" asked Captain Obadiah. "Sir," said Mr. Pettibones, "if what you tell me is true, 'tis beyond my poor powers to aid you." "Alas!" cried Captain Obadiah. "Alas! alas! Then, indeed, I'm damned!" And therewith flinging his arms into the air as though in the extremity of despair, he turned and incontinently departed, rushing forth out of the house as though stung by ten thousand furies. It was the most prodigious piece of gossip that ever fell in the way of the Reverend Josiah, and for a fortnight he carried it with him wherever he went. "'Twas the most unbelievable tale I ever heard," he would cry. "And yet where there is so much smoke there must be some fire. As for the poor wretch, if ever I saw a lost soul I beheld him standing before me there in Colonel Belford's library." And then he would conclude: "Yes, yes, 'tis incredible and past all belief. But if it be true in ever so little a part, why, then there is justice in this--that the Devil should take possession of the sanctuary of that very heresy that would not only have denied him the power that every other Christian belief assigns to him, but would have destroyed that infernal habitation that hath been his dwelling-place for all eternity." As for Captain Belford, if he desired privacy for himself upon Pig and Sow Point, he had taken the very best means to prevent the curious from spying upon him there after nightfall. II HOW THE DEVIL STOLE THE COLLECTOR'S SNUFFBOX Lieutenant Thomas Goodhouse was the Collector of Customs in the town of New Hope. He was a character of no little notoriety in those parts, enjoying the reputation of being able to consume more pineapple rum with less effect upon his balance than any other man in the community. He possessed the voice of a stentor, a short, thick-set, broad-shouldered person, a face congested to a violent carnation, and red hair of such a color as to add infinitely to the consuming fire of his countenance. The Custom Office was a little white frame building with green shutters, and overhanging the water as though to topple into the tide. Here at any time of the day betwixt the hours of ten in the morning and of five in the afternoon the Collector was to be found at his desk smoking his pipe of tobacco, the while a thin, phthisical clerk bent with unrelaxing assiduity over a multitude of account-books and papers accumulated before him. For his post of Collectorship of the Royal Customs, Lieutenant Goodhouse was especially indebted to the patronage of Colonel Belford. The worthy Collector had, some years before, come to that gentleman with a written recommendation from the Earl of Clandennie of a very unusual sort. It was the Lieutenant's good-fortune to save the life of the Honorable Frederick Dunburne, second son of the Earl--a wild, rakish, undisciplined youth, much given to such mischievous enterprises as the twisting off of door-knockers, the beating of the watch, and the carrying away of tavern signs. Having been a very famous swimmer at Eton, the Honorable Frederick undertook while at the Cowes to swim a certain considerable distance for a wager. In the midst of this enterprise he was suddenly seized with a cramp, and would inevitably have drowned had not the Lieutenant, who happened in a boat close at hand, leaped overboard and rescued the young gentleman from the watery grave in which he was about to be engulfed, thus restoring him once more to the arms of his grateful family. For this fortunate act of rescue the Earl of Clandennie presented to his son's preserver a gold snuffbox filled with guineas, and inscribed with the following legend: "To Lieutenant Thomas Goodhouse, who, under the Ruling of Beneficent Providence, was the Happy Preserver of a Beautiful and Precious Life of Virtuous Precocity, this Box is presented by the Father of Him whom He saved as a grateful acknowledgment of His Services. Thomas Monkhouse Dunburne, Viscount of Dunburne and Earl of Clandennie. _August 17, 1752._" Having thus satisfied the immediate demands of his gratitude, it is very possible that the Earl of Clandennie did not choose to assume so great a responsibility as the future of his son's preserver entailed. Nevertheless, feeling that something should be done for him, he obtained for Lieutenant Goodhouse a passage to the Americas, and wrote him a strong letter of recommendation to Colonel Belford. That gentleman, desiring to please the legitimate head of his family, used his influence so successfully that the Lieutenant was presently granted the position of Collector of Customs in the place of Captain Maull, who had lately deceased. The Lieutenant, somewhat to the surprise of his patrons, filled his new official position as Collector not only with vigor, but with a not unbecoming dignity. He possessed an infinite appreciation of the responsibilities of his office, and he was more jealous to collect every farthing of the royal duties than he would have been had those moneys been gathered for his own emolument. Under the old Collectorship of Captain Maull, it was no unusual thing for a barraco of superfine Hollands, a bolt of silk cloth, or a keg of brandy to find its way into the house of some influential merchant or Colonial dignitary. But in no such manner was Lieutenant Goodhouse derelict in his duties. He would have sacrificed his dearest friendship or his most precious attachment rather than fail in his duties to the Crown. In the intermission of his duties it might please him to relax into the softer humors of conviviality, but at ten o'clock in the morning, whatever his condition of sobriety, he assumed at once all the sterner panoply of a Collector of the Royal Customs. Thus he set his virtues against his vices, and struck an even balance between them. When most unsteady upon his legs he most asserted his integrity, declaring that not a gill or a thread came into his port without paying its duty, and calling Heaven to witness that it had been his hand that had saved the life of a noble young gentleman. Thereupon, perhaps, drawing forth the gleaming token of his prowess--the gold snuffbox--from his breeches-pocket, and holding it tight in his brown and hairy fist, he would first offer his interlocutor a pinch of rappee, and would then call upon him to read the inscription engraved upon the lid of the case, demanding to know whether it mattered a fig if a man did drink a drop too much now and then, provided he collected every farthing of the royal revenues, and had been the means of saving the son of the Earl of Clandennie. Never for an instant upon such an occasion would he permit his precious box to quit his possession. It was to him an emblem of those virtues that no one knew but himself, wherefore the more he misdoubted his own virtuousness the more valuable did the token of that rectitude become in his eyes. "Yes, you may look at it," he would say, "but damme if you shall handle it. I would not," he would cry, "let the Devil himself take it out of my hands." The talk concerning the impious possession of the Old Free Grace Meeting-House was at its height when the official consciousness of the Collector, who was just then laboring under his constitutional infirmity, became suddenly seized with an irrepressible alarm. He declared that he smoked something worse than the Devil upon Pig and Sow Point, and protested that it was his opinion that Captain Obadiah was doing a bit of free-trade upon his own account, and that dutiable goods were being smuggled in at night under cover of these incredible stories. He registered a vow, sealing it with the most solemn protestations, and with a multiplicity of ingenious oaths that only a mind stimulated by the heat of intoxication could have invented, that he would make it his business, upon the first occasion that offered, to go down to Pig and Sow Point and to discover for himself whether it was the Devil or smugglers that had taken possession of the Old Free Grace Meeting-House. Thereupon, hauling out his precious snuffbox and rapping upon the lid, he offered a pinch around. Then calling attention to the inscription, he demanded to know whether a man who had behaved so well upon that occasion had need to be afraid of a whole churchful of devils. "I would," he cried, "offer the Devil a pinch, as I have offered it to you. Then I would bid him read this and tell me whether he dared to say that black was the white of my eye." Nor were those words a vain boast upon the Collector's part, for, before a week had passed, it being reported that there had been a renewal of manifestations at the old church, the Collector, finding nobody with sufficient courage to accompany him, himself entered into a small boat and rowed down alone to Pig and Sow Point to investigate, for his own satisfaction, those appearances that so agitated the community. It was dusk when the Collector departed upon that memorable and solitary expedition, and it was entirely dark before he had reached its conclusion. He had taken with him a bottle of Extra Reserve rum to drive, as he declared, the chill out of his bones. Accordingly it seemed to him to be a surprisingly brief interval before he found himself floating in his boat under the impenetrable shadow of the rocky promontory. The profound and infinite gloom of night overhung him with a portentous darkness, melting only into a liquid obscurity as it touched and dissolved into the stretch of waters across the bay. But above, on the high and rugged shoulder of the Point, the Collector, with dulled and swimming vision, beheld a row of dim and lurid lights, whereupon, collecting his faculties, he opined that the radiance he beheld was emitted from the windows of the Old Free Grace Meeting-House. Having made fast his boat with a drunken gravity, the Collector walked directly, though with uncertain steps, up the steep and rugged path towards that mysterious illumination. Now and then he stumbled over the stones and cobbles that lay in his way, but he never quite lost his balance, neither did he for a moment remit his drunken gravity. So with a befuddled and obstinate perseverance he reached at last to the conclusion of his adventure and of his fate. The old meeting-house was two stories in height, the lower story having been formerly used by the Free Grace Believers as a place wherein to celebrate certain obscure mysteries appertaining to their belief. The upper story, devoted to the more ordinary worship of their Sunday meetings, was reached by a tall, steep flight of steps that led from the ground to a covered porch which sheltered the doorway. The Collector paused only long enough to observe that the shutters of the lower story were tight shut and barred, and that the dull and lurid light shone from the windows above. Then he directly mounted the steps with a courage and a perfect assurance that can only be entirely enjoyed by one in his peculiar condition of inebriety. He paused to knock at the door, and it appeared to him that his knuckles had hardly fallen upon the panel before the valve was flung suddenly open. An indescribable and heavy odor fell upon him and for the moment overpowered his senses, and he found himself standing face to face with a figure prodigiously and portentously tall. Even at this unexpected apparition the Collector lost possession of no part of his courage. Rather he stiffened himself to a more stubborn and obstinate resolution. Steadying himself for his address, "I know very well," quoth he, "who you are. You are the Divil, I dare say, but damme if you shall do business here without paying your duties to King George. I may drink a drop too much," he cried, "but I collect my duties--every farthing of 'em." Then drawing forth his snuffbox, he thrust it under the nose of the being to whom he spake. "Take a pinch and read that," he roared, "but don't handle it, for I wouldn't take all hell to let it out of my hand." The being whom he addressed had stood for all this while as though bereft of speech and of movement, but at these last words he appeared to find his voice, for he gave forth a strident bellow of so dreadful and terrible a sort that the Collector, brave as he found himself, stepped back a pace or two before it. The next instant he was struck upon the wrist as though by a bolt of lightning, and the snuffbox, describing a yellow circle against the light of the door, disappeared into the darkness of the night beyond. Ere he could recover himself another blow smote him upon the breast, and he fell headlong from the platform, as through infinite space. * * * * * The next day the Collector did not present himself at the office at his accustomed hour, and the morning wore along without his appearing at his desk. By noon serious alarm began to take possession of the community, and about two o'clock, the tide being then set out pretty strong, Mr. Tompkins, the consumptive clerk, and two sailors from the _Sarah Goodrich_, then lying at Mr. Hoppins's wharf, went down in a yawl-boat to learn, if possible, what had befallen him. They coasted along the Point for above a half-hour before they discovered any vestige of the missing Collector. Then at last they saw him lying at a little distance upon a cobbled strip of beach, where, judging from his position and from the way he had composed himself to rest, he appeared to have been overcome by liquor. At this place Mr. Tompkins put ashore, and making the best of his way over the slippery stones exposed at low water, came at last to where his chief was lying. The Collector was reposing with one arm over his eyes, as though to shelter them from the sun, but as soon as Mr. Tompkins had approached close enough to see his countenance, he uttered a great cry that was like a scream. For, by the blue and livid lips parted at the corners to show the yellow teeth, from the waxy whiteness of the fat and hairy hands--in short, from the appearance of the whole figure, he was aware in an instant that the Collector was dead. His cry brought the two sailors running. They, with the utmost coolness imaginable, turned the Collector over, but discovered no marks of violence upon him, till of a sudden one of them called attention to the fact that his neck was broke. Upon this the other opined that he had fallen among the rocks and twisted his neck. The two mariners then made an investigation of his pockets, the clerk standing by the while paralyzed with horror, his face the color of dough, his scalp creeping, and his hands and fingers twitching as though with the palsy. For there was something indescribably dreadful in the spectacle of those living hands searching into the dead's pockets, and he would freely have given a week's pay if he had never embarked upon the expedition for the recovery of his chief. In the Collector's pockets they found a twist of tobacco, a red bandanna handkerchief of violent color, a purse meagrely filled with copper coins and silver pieces, a silver watch still ticking with a loud and insistent iteration, a piece of tarred string, and a clasp-knife. The snuffbox which the Lieutenant had regarded with such prodigious pride as the one emblem of his otherwise dubious virtue was gone. III THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN OF QUALITY The Honorable Frederick Dunburne, second son of the Earl of Clandennie, having won some six hundred pounds at écarté at a single sitting at Pintzennelli's, embarked with his two friends, Captain Blessington and Lord George Fitzhope, to conclude the night with a round of final dissipation in the more remote parts of London. Accordingly they embarked at York Stairs for the Three Cranes, ripe for any mischief. Upon the water the three young gentlemen amused themselves by shouting and singing, pausing only now and then to discharge a broadside of raillery at the occupants of some other and passing boat. All went very well for a while, some of those in the passing boats laughing and railing in return, others shouting out angry replies. At last they fell in with a broad-beamed, flat-nosed, Dutch-appearing yawl-boat, pulling heavily up against the stream, and loaded with a crew of half-drunken sailors just come into port. In reply to the challenge of our young gentlemen, a man in the stern of the other boat, who appeared to be the captain of the crew--a fellow, as Dunburne could indefinitely perceive by the dim light of the lanthorn and the faint illumination of the misty half-moon, possessing a great, coarse red face and a bullet head surmounted by a mildewed and mangy fur cap-- bawled out, in reply, that if they would only put their boat near enough for a minute or two he would give them a bellyful of something that would make them quiet for the rest of the night. He added that he would ask for nothing better than to have the opportunity of beating Dunburne's head to a pudding, and that he would give a crown to have the three of them within arm's-reach for a minute. Upon this Captain Blessington swore that he should be immediately accommodated, and therewith delivered an order to that effect to the watermen. These obeyed so promptly that almost before Dunburne was aware of what had happened the two boats were side by side, with hardly a foot of space between the gunwales. Dunburne beheld one of the watermen of his own boat knock down one of the crew of the other with the blade of an oar, and then he himself was clutched by the collar in the grasp of the man with the fur cap. Him Dunburne struck twice in the face, and in the moonlight he saw that he had started the blood to running down from his assailant's nose. But his blows produced no other effect than to call forth a volley of the most horrible oaths that ever greeted his ears. Thereupon the boats drifted so far apart that our young gentleman was haled over the gunwale and soused in the cold water of the river. The next moment some one struck him upon the head with a belaying-pin or a billet of wood, a blow so crushing that the darkness seemed to split asunder with a prodigious flaming of lights and a myriad of circling stars, which presently disappeared into the profound and utter darkness of insensibility. How long this swoon continued our young gentleman could never tell, but when he regained so much of his consciousness as to be aware of the things about him, he beheld himself to be confined in a room, the walls whereof were yellow and greasy with dirt, he himself having been laid upon a bed so foul and so displeasing to his taste that he could not but regret the swoon from which he had emerged into consciousness. Looking down at his person, he beheld that his clothes had all been taken away from him, and that he was now clad in a shirt with only one sleeve, and a pair of breeches so tattered that they barely covered his nakedness. While he lay thus, dismally depressed by so sad a pickle as that into which he found himself plunged, he was strongly and painfully aware of an uproarious babble of loud and drunken voices and a continual clinking of glasses, which appeared to sound as from a tap-room beneath, these commingled now and then with oaths and scraps of discordant song bellowed out above the hubbub. His wounded head beat with tremendous and straining painfulness, as though it would burst asunder, and he was possessed by a burning thirst that seemed to consume his very vitals. He called aloud, and in reply a fat, one-eyed woman came, fetching him something to drink in a cup. This he swallowed with avidity, and thereupon (the liquor perhaps having been drugged) he dropped off into unconsciousness once more. When at last he emerged for a second time into the light of reason, it was to find himself aboard a brig--the _Prophet Daniel_, he discovered her name to be--bound for Baltimore, in the Americas, and then pitching and plunging upon a westerly running stern-sea, and before a strong wind that drove the vessel with enormous velocity upon its course for those remote and unknown countries for which it was bound. The land was still in sight both astern and abeam, but before him lay the boundless and tremendously infinite stretch of the ocean. Dunburne found himself still to be clad in the one-armed shirt and tattered breeches that had adorned him in the house of the crimp in which he had first awakened. Now, however, an old tattered hat with only a part of the crown had been added to his costume. As though to complete the sad disorder of his appearance, he discovered, upon passing his hand over his countenance, that his beard and hair had started a bristling growth, and that the lump on his crown--which was even yet as big as a walnut-- was still patched with pieces of dirty sticking-plaster. Indeed, had he but known it, he presented as miserable an appearance as the most miserable of those wretches who were daily ravished from the slums and streets of the great cities to be shipped to the Americas. Nor was he a long time in discovering that he was now one of the several such indentured servants who, upon the conclusion of their voyage, were to be sold for their passage in the plantations of Maryland. Having learned so much of his miserable fate, and being now able to make shift to walk (though with weak and stumbling steps), our young gentleman lost no time in seeking the Captain, to whom he endeavored to explain the several accidents that had befallen him, acknowledging that he was the second son of the Earl of Clandennie, and declaring that if he, the Captain, would put the _Prophet Daniel_ back into some English port again, his lordship would make it well worth his while to lose so much time for the sake of one so dear as a second son. To this address the Captain, supposing him either to be drunk or disordered in his mind, made no other reply than to knock him incontinently down upon the deck, bidding him return forward where he belonged. Thereafter poor Dunburne found himself enjoying the reputation of a harmless madman. The name of the Earl of Rags was bestowed upon him, and the miserable companions of his wretched plight were never tired of tempting him to recount his adventures, for the sake of entertaining themselves by teasing that which they supposed to be his hapless mania. Nor is it easy to conceive of all the torments that those miserable, obscene wretches were able to inflict upon him. Under the teasing sting of his companions' malevolent pleasantries, there were times when Dunburne might, as he confessed to himself, have committed a murder with the greatest satisfaction in the world. However, he was endowed with no small command of self-restraint, so that he was still able to curb his passions within the bounds of reason and of policy. He was, fortunately, a complete master of the French and Italian languages, so that when the fury of his irritation would become too excessive for him to control, he would ease his spirits by castigating his tormentors with a consuming verbosity in those foreign tongues, which, had his companions understood a single word of that which he uttered, would have earned for him a beating that would have landed him within an inch of his life. However, they attributed all that he said to the irrational gibbering of a maniac. About midway of their voyage the _Prophet Daniel_ encountered a tremendous storm, which drove her so far out of the Captain's reckoning that when land was sighted, in the afternoon of a tempestuous day in the latter part of August, the first mate, who had been for some years in the New England trade, opined that it was the coast of Rhode Island, and that if the Captain chose to do so he might run into New Hope Harbor and lie there until the southeaster had blown itself out. This advice the Captain immediately put into execution, so that by nightfall they had dropped anchor in the comparative quiet of that excellent harbor. Dunburne was a most excellent and practised swimmer. That evening, when the dusk had pretty well fallen, he jumped overboard, dived under the brig, and came up on the other side. Thus leaving all hands aboard looking for him or for his dead body at the starboard side of the _Prophet Daniel_, he himself swam slowly away to the larboard. Now partly under water, now floating on his back, he directed his course towards a point of land about a mile away, whereon, as he had observed before the dark had settled down, there stood an old wooden building resembling a church, and a great brick house with tall, lean chimneys at a little farther distance inland. The intemperate cold of the water of those parts of America was so much more excessive than Dunburne had been used to swim in that when he dragged himself out upon the rocky, bowlder-strewn beach he lay for a considerable time more dead than alive. His limbs appeared to possess hardly any vitality, so benumbed were they by the icy chill that had entered into the very marrow of his bones. Nor did he for a long while recover from this excessive rigor; his limbs still continued at intervals to twitch and shudder as with a convulsion, nor could he at such times at all control their trembling. At last, however, with a huge sigh, he aroused himself to some perception of his surroundings, which he acknowledged were of as dispiriting a sort as he could well have conceived of. His recovering senses were distracted by a ceaseless watery din, for the breaking waves, rushing with a prodigious swiftness from the harbor to the shore before the driving wind, fell with uproarious crashing into white foam among the rocks. Above this watery tumult spread the wet gloom of the night, full of the blackness and pelting chill of a fine slanting rain. Through this shroud of mist and gloom Dunburne at last distinguished a faint light, blurred by the sheets of rain and darkness, and shining as though from a considerable distance. Cheered by this nearer presence of human life, our young gentleman presently gathered his benumbed powers together, arose, and after a while began slowly and feebly to climb a stony hill that lay between the rocky beach and that faint but encouraging illumination. So, sorely buffeted by the tempest, he at last reached the black, square form of that structure from which the light shone. The building he perceived to be a little wooden church of two stories in height. The shutters of the lower story were tight fastened, as though bolted from within. Those above were open, and from them issued the light that had guided him in his approach from the beach. A tall flight of wooden steps, wet in the rain, reached to a small, enclosed porch or vestibule, whence a door, now tight shut, gave ingress into the second story of the church. Thence, as Dunburne stood without, he could now distinguish the dull muttering of a man's voice, which he opined might be that of the preacher. Our young gentleman, as may be supposed, was in a wretched plight. He was ragged and unshaven; his only clothing was the miserable shirt and bepatched breeches that had served him as shelter throughout the long voyage. These abominable garments were now wet to the skin, and so displeasing was his appearance that he was forced to acknowledge to himself that he did not possess enough of humility to avow so great a misery to the light and to the eyes of strangers. Accordingly, finding some shelter afforded by the vestibule of the church, he crouched there in a corner, huddling his rags about him, and finding a certain poor warmth in thus hiding away from the buffeting of the chill and penetrating wind. As he so crouched he presently became aware of the sound of many voices, dull and groaning, coming from within the edifice, and then--now and again--the clanking as of a multitude of chains. Then of a sudden, and unexpectedly, the door near him was flung wide open, and a faint glow of reddish light fell across the passage. Instantly the figure of a man came forth, and following him came, not a congregation, as Dunburne might have supposed, but a most dolorous company of nearly, or quite, naked men and women, outlined blackly, as they emerged, against the dull illumination from behind. These wretched beings, sighing and groaning most piteously, with a monotonous wailing of many voices, were chained by the wrist, two and two together, and as they passed by close to Dunburne, his nostrils were overpowered by a heavy and fetid odor that came partly from within the building, partly from the wretched creatures that passed him by. As the last of these miserable beings came forth from the bowels of that dreadful place, a loud voice, so near to Dunburne as to startle his ears with its sudden exclamation, cried out, "Six-and-twenty, all told," and thereat instantly the dull light from within was quenched into darkness. In the gloom and the silence that followed, Dunburne could hear for a while nothing but the dash of the rain upon the roof and the ceaseless drip and trickle of the water running from the eaves into the puddles beneath the building. Then, as he stood, still marvelling at what he had seen, there suddenly came a loud and startling crash, as of a trap-door let fall into its place. A faint circle of light shone within the darkness of the building, as though from a lantern carried in a man's hands. There was a sound of jingling, as of keys, of approaching footsteps, and of voices talking together, and presently there came out into the vestibule the dark figures of two men, one of them carrying a ship's lantern. One of these figures closed and locked the door behind him, and then both were about to turn away without having observed Dunburne, when, of a sudden, a circle from the roof of the lantern lit up his pale and melancholy face, and he instantly became aware that his presence had been discovered. The next moment the lantern was flung up almost into his eyes, and in the light he saw the sharp, round rim of a pistol-barrel directed immediately against his forehead. In that moment our young gentleman's life hung as a hair in the balance. In the intense instant of expectancy his brain appeared to expand as a bubble, and his ears tingled and hummed as though a cloud of flies were buzzing therein. Then suddenly a voice smote like a blow upon the silence--"Who are you, and what d'ye want?" "Indeed," said Dunburne, "I do not know." "What do you do here?" "Nor do I know that, either." He who held the lantern lifted it so that the illumination fell still more fully upon Dunburne's face and person. Then his interlocutor demanded, "How did you come here?" Upon the moment Dunburne determined to answer so much of the truth as the question required. "'Twas by no fault of my own," he cried. "I was knocked on the head and kidnapped in England, with the design of being sold in Baltimore. The vessel that fetched me put into the harbor over yonder to wait for good weather, and I jumped overboard and swam ashore, to stumble into the cursed pickle in which I now find myself." "Have you, then, an education? To be sure, you talk so." "Indeed I have," said Dunburne--"a decent enough education to fit me for a gentleman, if the opportunity offered. But what of that?" he exclaimed, desperately. "I might as well have no more learning than a beggar under the bush, for all the good it does me." The other once more flashed the light of his lantern over our young gentleman's miserable and barefoot figure. "I had a mind," says he, "to blow your brains out against the wall. I have a notion now, however, to turn you to some use instead, so I'll just spare your life for a little while, till I see how you behave." He spoke with so much more of jocularity than he had heretofore used that Dunburne recovered in great part his dawning assurance. "I am infinitely obliged to you," he cried, "for sparing my brains; but I protest I doubt if you will ever find so good an opportunity again to murder me as you have just enjoyed." This speech seemed to tickle the other prodigiously, for he burst into a loud and boisterous laugh, under cover of which he thrust his pistol back into his coat-pocket again. "Come with me, and I'll fit you with victuals and decent clothes, of both of which you appear to stand in no little need," he said. Thereupon, and without another word, he turned and quitted the place, accompanied by his companion, who for all this time had uttered not a single sound. A little way from the church these two parted company, with only a brief word spoken between them. Dunburne's interlocutor, with our young gentleman following close behind him, led the way in silence for a considerable distance through the long, wet grass and the tempestuous darkness, until at last, still in unbroken silence, they reached the confines of an enclosure, and presently stood before a large and imposing house built of brick. Dunburne's mysterious guide, still carrying the lantern, conducted him directly up a broad flight of steps, and opening the door, ushered him into a hallway of no inconsiderable pretensions. Thence he led the way to a dining-room beyond, where our young gentleman observed a long mahogany table, and a sideboard of carved mahogany illuminated by three or four candles. In answer to the call of his conductor, a negro servant appeared, whom the master of the house ordered to fetch some bread and cheese and a bottle of rum for his wretched guest. While the servant was gone to execute the commission the master seated himself at his ease and favored Dunburne with a long and most minute regard. Then he suddenly asked our young gentleman what was his name. Upon the instant Dunburne did not offer a reply to this interrogation. He had been so miserably abused when he had told the truth upon the voyage that he knew not now whether to confess or deny his identity. He possessed no great aptitude at lying, so that it was with no little hesitation that he determined to maintain his incognito. Having reached this conclusion, he answered his host that his name was Tom Robinson. The other, however, appeared to notice neither his hesitation nor the name which he had seen fit to assume. Instead, he appeared to be lost in a reverie, which he broke only to bid our young gentleman to sit down and tell the story of the several adventures that had befallen him. He advised him to leave nothing untold, however shameful it might be. "Be assured," said he, "that no matter what crimes you may have committed, the more intolerable your wickedness, the better you will please me for the purpose I have in view." Being thus encouraged, and having already embarked in disingenuosity, our young gentleman, desiring to please his host, began at random a tale composed in great part of what he recollected of the story of _Colonel Jack_, seasoned occasionally with extracts from Mr. Smollett's ingenious novel of _Ferdinand, Count Fathom_. There was hardly a petty crime or a mean action mentioned in either of these entertaining fictions that he was not willing to attribute to himself. Meanwhile he discovered, to his surprise, that lying was not really so difficult an art as he had supposed it to be. His host listened for a considerable while in silence, but at last he was obliged to call upon his penitent to stop. "To tell you the truth, Mr. What's-a-name," he cried, "I do not believe a single word you are telling me. However, I am satisfied that in you I have discovered, as I have every reason to hope, one of the most preposterous liars I have for a long time fell in with. Indeed, I protest that any one who can with so steady a countenance lie so tremendously as you have just done may be capable, if not of a great crime, at least of no inconsiderable deceit, and perhaps of treachery. If this be so, you will suit my purposes very well, though I would rather have had you an escaped criminal or a murderer or a thief." "Sir," said Dunburne, very seriously, "I am sorry that I am not more to your mind. As you say, I can, I find, lie very easily, and if you will give me sufficient time, I dare say I can become sufficiently expert in other and more criminal matters to please even your fancy. I cannot, I fear, commit a murder, nor would I choose to embark upon an attempt at arson; but I could easily learn to cheat at cards; or I could, if it would please you better, make shift to forge your own name to a bill for a hundred pounds. I confess, however, I am entirely in the dark as to why you choose to have me enjoy so evil a reputation." At these words the other burst into a great and vociferous laugh. "I protest," he cried, "you are the coolest rascal ever I fell in with. But come," he added, sobering suddenly, "what did you say was your name?" "I declare, sir," said Dunburne, with the most ingenuous frankness, "I have clean forgot. Was it Tom or John Robinson?" Again the other burst out laughing. "Well," he said, "what does it matter? Thomas or John--'tis all one. I see that you are a ragged, lousy beggar, and I believe you to be a runaway servant. Even if that is the worst to be said of you, you will suit me very well. As for a name, I myself will fit you with one, and it shall be of the best. I will give you a home here in the house, and will for three months clothe you like a lord. You shall live upon the best, and shall meet plenty of the genteelest company the Colonies can afford. All that I demand of you is that you shall do exactly as I tell you for the three months that I so entertain you. Come. Is it a bargain?" Dunburne sat for a while thinking very seriously. "First of all," said he, "I must know what is the name you have a mind to bestow upon me." The other looked distrustfully at him for a time, and then, as though suddenly fetching up resolution, he cried out: "Well, what then? What of it? Why should I be afraid? I'll tell you. Your name shall be Frederick Dunburne, and you shall be the second son of the Earl of Clandennie." Had a thunder-bolt fallen from heaven at Dunburne's feet he could not have been struck more entirely dumb than he was at those astounding words. He knew not for the moment where to look or what to think. At that instant the negro man came into the room, fetching the bottle of rum and the bread and cheese he had been sent for. As the sound of his entrance struck upon our young gentleman's senses he came to himself with the shock, and suddenly exploded into a burst of laughter so shrill and discordant that Captain Obadiah sat staring at him as though he believed his ragged beneficiary had gone clean out of his senses. IV A ROMANTIC EPISODE IN THE LIFE OF A YOUNG LADY Miss Belinda Belford, the daughter and only child of Colonel William Belford, was a young lady possessed of no small pretensions to personal charms of the most exalted order. Indeed, many excellent judges in such matters regarded her, without doubt, as the reigning belle of the Northern Colonies. Of a medium height, of a slight but generously rounded figure, she bore herself with an indescribable grace and dignity of carriage. Her hair, which was occasionally permitted to curl in ringlets upon her snowy neck, was of a brown so dark and so soft as at times to deceive the admiring observer into a belief that it was black. Her eyes, likewise of a dark-brown color, were of a most melting and liquid lustre; her nose, though slight, was sufficiently high, and modelled with so exquisite a delicacy as to lend an exceeding charm to her whole countenance. She was easily the belle of every assembly which she graced with her presence, and her name was the toast of every garrison town of the Northern provinces. Madam Belford and her lovely daughter were engaged one pleasant morning in entertaining a number of friends, in the genteel English manner, with a dish of tea and a bit of gossip. Upon this charming company Colonel Belford suddenly intruded, his countenance displaying an excessive though not displeasing agitation. "My dear! my dear!" he cried, "what a piece of news have I for you! It is incredible and past all belief! Who, ladies, do you suppose is here in New Hope? Nay, you cannot guess; I shall have to enlighten you. 'Tis none other than Frederick Dunburne, my lordship's second son. Yes, you may well look amazed. I saw and spoke with him this very morning, and that not above a half-hour ago. He is travelling incognito, but my brother Obadiah discovered his identity, and is now entertaining him at his new house upon the Point. A large party of young officers from the garrison are there, all very gay with cards and dice, I am told. My noble young gentleman knew me so soon as he clapped eyes upon me. 'This,' says he, 'if I am not mistook, must be Colonel Belford, my father's honored friend.' He is," exclaimed the speaker, "a most interesting and ingenuous youth, with extremely lively and elegant manners, and a person exactly resembling that of his dear and honored father." It may be supposed into what a flutter this piece of news cast those who heard it. "My dear," cried Madam Belford, as soon as the first extravagance of the general surprise had passed by to an easier acceptance of Colonel Belford's tidings--"my dear, why did you not bring him with you to present him to us all? What an opportunity have you lost!" "Indeed, my dear," said Colonel Belford, "I did not forget to invite him hither. He protested that nothing could afford him greater pleasure, did he not have an engagement with some young gentlemen from the garrison. But, believe me, I would not let him go without a promise. He is to dine with us to-morrow at two; and, Belinda, my dear"--here Colonel Belford pinched his daughter's blushing cheek--"you must assume your best appearance for so serious an occasion. I am informed that my noble gentleman is extremely particular in his tastes in the matter of female excellence." "Indeed, papa," cried the young lady, with great vivacity, "I shall attempt no extraordinary graces upon my young gentleman's account, and that I promise you. I protest," she exclaimed, with spirit, "I have no great opinion of him who would come thus to New Hope without a single word to you, who are his father's confidential correspondent. Nor do I admire the taste of one who would choose to cast himself upon the hospitality of my uncle Obadiah rather than upon yours." "My dear," said Colonel Belford, very soberly, "you express your opinion with a most unwarranted levity, considering the exalted position your subject occupies. I may, however, explain to you that he came to America quite unexpectedly and by an accident. Nor would he have declared his incognito, had not my brother Obadiah discovered it almost immediately upon his arrival. He would not, he declared, have visited New Hope at all, had not Captain Obadiah Belford urged his hospitality in such a manner as to preclude all denial." But to this reproof Miss Belinda who, was, indeed, greatly indulged by her parents, made no other reply than to toss her head with a pretty sauciness, and to pout her cherry lips in an infinitely becoming manner. But though our young lady protested so emphatically against assuming any unusual charms for the entertainment of their expected visitor, she none the less devoted no small consideration to that very thing that she had so exclaimed against. Accordingly, when she was presented to her father's noble guest, what with her heightened color and her eyes sparkling with the emotions evoked by the occasion, she so impressed our young gentleman that he could do little but stand regarding her with an astonishment that for the moment caused him to forget those graces of deportment that the demands of elegance called upon him to assume. However, he recovered himself immediately, and proceeded to take such advantage of his introduction that by the time they were seated at the dinner-table he found himself conversing with his fair partner with all the ease and vivacity imaginable. Nor in this exchange of polite raillery did he discover her wit to be in any degree less than her personal charms. "Indeed, madam," he exclaimed, "I am now more than ready to thank that happy accident that has transported me, however much against my will, from England to America. The scenery, how beautiful! Nature, how fertile! Woman, how exquisite! Your country," he exclaimed, with enthusiasm, "is like heaven!" "Indeed, sir," cried the young lady, vivaciously, "I do not take your praise for a compliment. I protest I am acquainted with no young gentleman who would not defer his enjoyment of heaven to the very last extremity." "To be sure," quoth our hero, "an ambition for the abode of saints is of too extreme a nature to recommend itself to a modest young fellow of parts. But when one finds himself thrown into the society of an houri--" "And do you indeed have houris in England?" exclaimed the young lady. "In America you must be content with society of a much more earthly constitution!" "Upon my word, miss," cried our young gentleman, "you compel me to confess that I find myself in the society of one vastly more to my inclination than that of any houri of my acquaintance." With such lively badinage, occasionally lapsing into more serious discourse, the dinner passed off with a great deal of pleasantness to our young gentleman, who had prepared himself for something prodigiously dull and heavy. After the repast, a pipe of tobacco in the summer-house and a walk in the garden so far completed his cheerful impressions that when he rode away towards Pig and Sow Point he found himself accompanied by the most lively, agreeable thoughts imaginable. Her wit, how subtle! Her person, how beautiful! He surprised himself smiling with a fatuous indulgence of his enjoyable fancies. Nor did the young lady's thoughts, though doubtless of a more moderate sort, assume a less pleasing perspective. Our young gentleman was favored with a tall, erect figure, a high nose, and a fine, thin face expressive of excellent breeding. It seemed to her that his manners possessed an elegance and a grace that she had never before discovered beyond the leaves of Mr. Richardson's ingenious novels. Nor was she unaware of the admiration of herself that his countenance had expressed. Upon so slender a foundation she amused herself for above an hour, erecting such castles in the air that, had any one discovered her thought, she would have perished of mortification. But though our young lady so yielded herself to the enjoyment of such silly dreams as might occur to any miss of a lively imagination and vivacious temperament, the reader is to understand that she has yet so much dignity and spirit as to cover these foolish and romantic fancies with a cloak of so delicate and so subtle a reserve that when the young gentleman called to pay his respects the next afternoon he quitted her presence ten times more infatuated with her charms than he had been the day before. Nor can it be denied that our young lady knew perfectly well how to make the greatest use of such opportunities. She already possessed a great deal of experience in teasing the other sex with those delicious though innocent torments that cause the eyes of the victim to remain awake at night and the fancy to dream throughout the day. Such presently became the condition of our young gentleman that at the end of the month he knew not whether his present life had continued for weeks or for years; in the charming infatuation that overpowered him he considered nothing of time, every other consideration being engulfed in his desire for the society of his charmer. Cards and dice lost for him their accustomed pleasure, and when a gay society would be at Belford's Palace it was with the utmost difficulty that he assumed so much patience as to take his part in those dissipations that there obtained. Relieved from them, he flew with redoubled ardor back to the gratification of his passion again. In the mean time Captain Obadiah had become so accustomed to the presence of his guest that he made no pretence of any concealment of that iniquitous, dreadful avocation that lent to Pig and Sow Point so great a terror in those parts. Rather did the West Indian appear to court the open observation of his dependant. One exquisite day in the last of October our young gentleman had spent the greater part of the afternoon in the society of the beautiful object of his regard. The leaves, though fallen from the trees in great abundance, appeared thereby only to have admitted of the passage of a riper radiance of golden sunlight through the thinning branches. This and the ardor of his passion had so transported our hero that when he had departed from her presence he seemed to walk as light as a feather, and knew not whether it was the warmth of the sunlight or the heat of his own impetuous transports that filled the universe with so extreme a brightness. Overpowered with these absorbing and transcendent introspections, he approached his now odious home upon Pig and Sow Point by way of the old meeting-house. There of a sudden he came upon his patron, Captain Obadiah, superintending the burial of the last of three victims of his odious commerce, who had died that afternoon. Two had already been interred, and the third new-made grave was in the process of being filled. Two men, one a negro and the other a white, had nearly completed their labor, tramping down the crumbling earth as they shovelled it into the shallow excavation. Meanwhile Captain Obadiah stood near by, his red coat flaming in the slanting light, himself smoking a pipe of tobacco with all the ease and coolness imaginable. His hands, clasped behind his back, held his ivory-headed cane, and as our hero approached he turned an evil countenance upon him, and greeted him with a grin at once droll, mischievous, and malevolent in the extreme. "And how is our pretty charmer this afternoon?" quoth Captain Obadiah. Conceive, if you please, of a man floating in the most ecstatic delight of heaven pulled suddenly thence down into the most filthy extremity of hell, and then you shall understand the motions of disgust and repugnance and loathing that overpowered our hero, who, awakening thus suddenly out of his dream of love, found himself in the presence of that grim and obscene spectacle of death--who, arousing from such absorbing and exquisite meditations, heard his ears greeted with so rude and vulgar an address. Acknowledging to himself that he did not dare offer an immediate reply to his host, he turned upon his heel and walked away, without expressing a single word. He was not, however, permitted to escape thus easily. He had not taken above twenty steps, when, hearing footsteps behind him, he turned his head to discover Captain Obadiah skipping rapidly after him in a prodigious hurry, swinging his cane and chuckling preposterously to himself, as though in the enjoyment of some most exquisite piece of drollery. "What!" he cried, as soon as he could catch his breath from his hurry. "What! What! Can't you answer, you villain? Why, blind my eyes! a body would think you were a lord's son indeed, instead of being, as I know you, a beggarly runaway servant whom I took in like a mangy cat out of the rain. But come, come--no offence, my boy! I'll be no hard master to you. I've heard how the wind blows, and I've kept my ears open to all your doings. I know who is your sweetheart. Harkee, you rascal! You have a fancy for my niece, have you? Well, your apple is ripe if you choose to pick it. Marry your charmer and be damned; and if you'll serve me by taking her thus in hand, I'll pay you twenty pounds upon your wedding-day. Now what do you say to that, you lousy beggar in borrowed clothes?" Our young gentleman stopped short and looked his tormentor full in the face. The thought of his father's anger alone had saved him from entangling himself in the web of his passions; this he forgot upon the instant. "Captain Obadiah Belford," quoth he, "you're the most consummate villain ever I beheld in all of my life; but if I have the good-fortune to please the young lady, I wish I may die if I don't serve you in this!" At these words Captain Obadiah, who appeared to take no offence at his guest's opinion of his honesty, burst out into a great boisterous laugh, flinging back his head and dropping his lower jaw so preposterously that the setting sun shone straight down his wide and cavernous gullet. V HOW THE DEVIL WAS CAST OUT OF THE MEETING-HOUSE The news that the Honorable Frederick Dunburne, second son of the Earl of Clandennie, was to marry Miss Belinda Belford, the daughter and only child of Colonel William Belford, of New Hope, was of a sort to arouse the keenest and most lively interest in all those parts of the Northern Colonies of America. The day had been fixed, and all the circumstances arranged with such particularity that an invitation was regarded as the highest honor that could befall the fortunate recipient. There were to be present on this interesting occasion two Colonial governors and their ladies, an English general, the captain of the flag-ship _Achilles_, and above a score of Colonial magnates and ladies of distinction. Captain Obadiah had not been bidden to either the ceremony or the breakfast. This rebuff he had accepted with prodigious amusement, which, not limiting itself to the immediate occasion, broke forth at intervals for above two weeks. Now it might express itself in chuckles of the most delicious entertainment, vented as our Captain walked up and down the hall of his great house, smoking his pipe and cracking the knuckles of his fingers; at other times he would burst forth into incontrollable fits of laughter at the extravagant deceit which he believed himself to be imposing upon his brother, Colonel Belford. At length came the wedding-day, with such circumstances of pomp and display as the exceeding wealth and Colonial dignity of Colonel Belford could surround it. For the wedding-breakfast the great folding-doors between the drawing-room and the dining-room of Colonel Belford's house were flung wide open, and a table extending the whole length of the two apartments was set with the most sumptuous and exquisite display of plate and china. Around the board were collected the distinguished company, and the occasion was remarkable not less for the richness of its display than for the exquisite nature of the repast intended to celebrate so auspicious an occasion. At the head of the board sat the young couple, radiant with an engrossing happiness that took no thought of what the future might have in store for it, but was contented with the triumphant ecstasy of the moment. These elegant festivities were at their height, when there suddenly arose a considerable disputation in the hallway beyond, and before any one could inquire as to what was occurring, Captain Obadiah Belford came stumping into the room, swinging his ivory-headed cane, and with an expression of the most malicious triumph impressed upon his countenance. Directing his address to the bridegroom, and paying no attention to any other one of the company, he cried out: "Though not bidden to this entertainment, I have come to pay you a debt I owe. Here is twenty pounds I promised to pay you for marrying my niece." Therewith he drew a silk purse full of gold pieces from his pocket, which he hung over the ferrule of his cane and reached across the table to the bridegroom. That gentleman, upon his part (having expected some such episode as this), arose, and with a most polite and elaborate bow accepted the same and thrust it into his pocket. "And now, my young gentleman," cried Captain Obadiah, folding his arms and tucking his cane under his armpit, looking the while from under his brows upon the company with a most malevolent and extravagant grin-- "and now, my young gentleman, perhaps you will favor the ladies and gentlemen here present with an account of what services they are I thus pay for." "To be sure I will," cried out our hero, "and that with the utmost willingness in the world." During all this while the elegant company had sat as with suspended animation, overwhelmed with wonder at the singular address of the intruder. Even the servants stood still with the dishes in their hands the better to hear the outcome of the affair. The bride, overwhelmed by a sudden and inexplicable anxiety, felt the color quit her face, and reaching out, seized her lover's hand, who took hers very readily, holding it tight within his grasp. As for Colonel and Madam Belford, not knowing what this remarkable address portended, they sat as though turned to stone, the one gone as white as ashes, and the other as red in the face as a cherry. Our young gentleman, however, maintained the utmost coolness and composure of demeanor. Pointing his finger towards the intruder, he exclaimed: "In Captain Obadiah Belford, ladies and gentlemen, you behold the most unmitigated villain that ever I met in all of my life. With an incredible spite and vindictiveness he not only pursued my honored father-in-law, Colonel Belford, but has sought to wreak an unwarranted revenge upon the innocent and virtuous young lady whom I have now the honor to call my wife. But how has he overreached himself in his machinations! How has he entangled his feet in the net which he himself has spread! I will tell you my history, as he bids me to do, and you may then judge for yourselves!" At this unexpected address Captain Obadiah's face fell from its expression of malicious triumph, growing longer and longer, until at last it was overclouded with so much doubt and anxiety that, had he been threatened by the loss of a thousand pounds, he could not have assumed a greater appearance of mortification and dejection. Meantime, regarding him with a mischievous smile, our young gentleman began the history of all those adventures that had befallen him from the time he embarked upon the memorable expedition with his two companions in dissipation from York Stairs. As his account proceeded Captain Obadiah's face altered by degrees from its natural brown to a sickly yellow, and then to so leaden a hue that it could not have assumed a more ghastly appearance were he about to swoon dead away. Great beads of sweat gathered upon his forehead and trickled down his cheeks. At last he could endure no more, but with a great and strident voice, such as might burst forth from a devil tormented, he cried out: "'Tis a lie! 'Tis all a monstrous lie! He is a beggarly runaway servant whom I took in out of the rain and fed and housed--to have him turn thus against me and strike the hand that has benefited him!" "Sir," replied our young gentleman, with a moderate and easy voice, "what I tell you is no lie, but the truth. If any here misdoubts my veracity, see, here is a letter received by the last packet from my honored father. You, Colonel Belford, know his handwriting perfectly well. Look at this and tell me if I am deceiving you." At these words Colonel Belford took the letter with a hand that trembled as though with palsy. He cast his eyes over it, but it is to be doubted whether he read a single word therein contained. Nevertheless, he saw enough to satisfy his doubts, and he could have wept, so great was the relief from the miserable and overwhelming anxiety that had taken possession of him since the beginning of his brother's discourse. Meantime our young gentleman, turning to Captain Obadiah, cried out, "Sir, I am indeed an instrument of Providence sent hither to call your wickedness to account," and this he spoke with so virtuous an air as to command the admiration of all who heard him. "I have," he continued, "lived with you now for nearly three odious months, and I know every particular of your habits and such circumstances of your life as you are aware of. I now proclaim how you have wickedly and sacrilegiously turned the Old Free Grace Meeting-House into a slave-pen, whence for above a year you have conducted a nefarious and most inhuman commerce with the West Indies." At these words Captain Obadiah, being thrown so suddenly upon his defence, forced himself to give forth a huge and boisterous laugh. "What then?" he cried. "What wickedness is there in that? What if I have provided a few sugar plantations with negro slaves? Are there not those here present who would do no better if the opportunity offered? The place is mine, and I break no law by a bit of quiet slave-trading." "I marvel," cried our young gentleman, still in the same virtuous strain--"I marvel that you can pass over so wicked a thing thus easily. I myself have counted above fifty graves of your victims on Pig and Sow Point. Repent, sir, while there is yet time." But to this adjuration Captain Obadiah returned no other reply than to burst into a most wicked, impudent laugh. "Is it so?" cried our young gentleman. "Do you dare me to further exposures? Then I have here another evidence to confront you that may move you to a more serious consideration." With these words he drew forth from his pocket a packet wrapped in soft white paper. This he unfolded, holding up to the gaze of all a bright and shining object. "This," he exclaimed, "I found in Captain Obadiah's writing-desk while I was hunting for some wax with which to seal a letter." It was the gold snuffbox of the late Collector Goodhouse. "What," he cried, "have you, sir, to offer in explanation of the manner in which this came into your possession? See, here engraved upon the lid is the owner's name and the circumstance of his having saved my own poor life. It was that first called my attention to it, for I well recollect how my father compelled me to present it to my savior. How came it into your possession, and why have you hidden it away so carefully for all this while? Sir, in the death of Lieutenant Goodhouse I suspect you of a more sinister fault than that of converting yonder poor sanctuary into a slave-pen. So soon as Captain Morris of your slave-ship returns from Jamaica I shall have him arrested, and shall compel him to explain what he knows of the circumstances of the Lieutenant's unfortunate murder." At the sight of so unexpected an object in the young gentleman's hand Captain Obadiah's jaw fell, and his cavernous mouth gaped as though he had suddenly been stricken with a palsy. He lifted a trembling hand and slowly and mechanically passed it along that cheek which was so discolored with gunpowder stain. Then, suddenly gathering himself together and regaining those powers that appeared for a moment to have fled from him, he cried out, aloud: "I swear to God 'twas all an accident! I pushed him down the steps, and he fell and broke his neck!" Our young gentleman regarded him with a cold and collected smile. "That, sir," said he, "you shall have the opportunity to explain to the proper authorities--unless," he added, "you choose to take yourself away from these parts, and to escape the just resentment of those laws to which you may be responsible for your misdemeanors." "I shall," roared Captain Obadiah, "stand my trial in spite of you all! I shall live to see you in torments yet! I shall--" He gaped and stuttered, but could find no further words with which to convey his infinite rage and disappointed spite. Then turning, and with a furious gesture, he rushed forth and out of the house, thrusting those aside who stood in his way, and leaving behind him a string of curses fit to set the whole world into a blaze. He had destroyed all the gaiety of the wedding-breakfast, but the relief from the prodigious doubts and anxieties that had at first overwhelmed those whom he had intended to ruin was of so great a nature that they thought nothing of so inconsiderable a circumstance. As for our young gentleman, he had come forth from the adventure with such dignity of deportment and with so exalted an air of generous rectitude that those present could not sufficiently admire at the continent discretion of one so young. The young lady whom he had married, if she had before regarded him as a Paris and an Achilles incorporated into one person, now added the wisdom of a Nestor to the category of his accomplishments. Captain Obadiah, in spite of the defiance he had fulminated against his enemies, and in spite of the determination he had expressed to remain and to stand his trial, was within a few days known to have suddenly and mysteriously departed from New Hope. Whether or not he misdoubted his own rectitude too greatly to put it to the test of a trial, or whether the mortification incident upon the failure of his plot was too great for him to support, it was clearly his purpose never to return again. For within a month the more valuable of his belongings were removed from his great house upon Pig and Sow Point and were loaded upon a bark that came into the harbor for that purpose. Thence they were transported no one knew whither, for Captain Obadiah was never afterwards observed in those parts. Nor was the old meeting-house ever again disturbed by such manifestations as had terrified the community for so long a time. Nevertheless, though the Devil was thus exorcised from his abiding-place, the old church never lost its evil reputation, until it was finally destroyed by fire about ten years after the incidents herein narrated. In conclusion it is only necessary to say that when the Honorable Frederick Dunburne presented his wife to his noble family at home, he was easily forgiven his _mésalliance_ in view of her extreme beauty and vivacity. Within a year or two Lord Carrickford, his elder brother, died of excessive dissipation in Florence, where he was then attached to the English Embassy, so that our young gentleman thus became the heir-apparent to his father's title, and so both branches of the family were united into one. THE END 
38631	----	public domain material generously made available by the Google Books Library Project (http://books.google.com/) Note: Project Gutenberg has the other two volumes of this work. Volume II: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38632 Volume III: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38633 Images of the original pages are available through the the Google Books Library Project. See http://books.google.com/books?vid=PCYCAAAAYAAJ&id THE MONARCHS OF THE MAIN; Or, Adventures of the Buccaneers. by GEORGE W. THORNBURY, ESQ. "One foot on sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never." MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. In Three Volumes. VOL. I. London: Hurst and Blackett, Publishers, Successors to Henry Colburn, 13, Great Marlborough Street. 1855. London: Sercombe and Jack, 16 Great Windmill Street. CONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAPTER I.--THE PRECURSORS OF THE BUCCANEERS. History of Tortuga--Description of the island--Origin of the Buccaneers--Conquest of Tortuga by the French and English--Hunters, planters, and corsairs--Le Basque takes Maracaibo--War with the Spaniards of Hispaniola--The French West Indian Company buy Tortuga--Their various governors 1 CHAPTER II.--MANNERS OF THE HUNTERS. Indian derivation of the word Buccaneer--Flibustier--The three classes--Dress of the hunters--West Indian scenery--Method of hunting--Wild dogs--Anecdotes--Wild oxen--Wild boars and wild horses--Buccaneer dainties--Cow-killing, English, French, and Spanish methods--Amusements--Duels--Adventures--Conflicts with the Fifties, or Spanish militia--The hunters driven to sea--Turn corsairs--The hunters' _engagés_, or apprentices--Hide curing--Hardships of the bush life--The planters' _engagés_--Cruelties of planters--The _matelotage_--Huts, manners, and food 35 CHAPTER III.--THE FLIBUSTIERS, OR SEA ROVERS. Originated in the Spanish persecution of French hunters--Customs--"No peace beyond the line"--"No prey, no pay"--Pay and pensions--Their helots the Mosquito Indians--Lewis Scott, an Englishman, the first Corsair--John Davis takes St. Francis in Campeachy--Their debauchery--Gambling--Religion--Classes from which they sprang--Equality at sea--Mode of fighting--Food--Dress 111 CHAPTER IV.--PIERRE-LE-GRAND, THE FIRST BUCCANEER. Plunder of Segovia--Pierre-le-Grand--Peter Francis--Captures of Spanish vessels--Mode of capture--Barthelemy Portugese--His escapes and victories--Roche the Brazilian--Fanatical hatred of the Spaniards--His wrecks and adventures 152 CHAPTER V.--LOLONNOIS THE CRUEL. Lolonnois' stratagems--His cruelty--His partner, Michael le Basque--Takes Maracaibo--Tortures the citizens--Sacks the town--Takes Gibraltar--Attempt on Merida--Famine and pestilence--Retreat--Division of spoil--Ransom--Takes St. Pedro--Burns Veragua--Wrecked in the Gulf of Honduras--Attacked by Indians--Killed and eaten by the savages 188 CHAPTER VI.--ALEXANDRE BRAS DE FER, AND MONTBARS THE EXTERMINATOR. Bras de Fer compared by French writers to Alexander the Great--His exploits and stratagems--Montbars--Anecdote of his childhood--Goes to sea--His first naval engagement--Joins the Buccaneers--Defeats the Spanish Fifties--His uncle killed--His revenge--Anecdote of the negro vessel--Adam and Anne le Roux plunder Santiago 267 PREFACE. I claim for this book, at least originality. But this originality, unfortunately, if it attaches interest to an author's labours, adds also to his responsibilities. The history of the Buccaneers has hitherto remained unwritten. Three or four forgotten volumes contain literally all that is recorded of the wars and conquests of these extraordinary men. Of these volumes two are French, one Dutch, and one in English. The majority of our readers, therefore, it is probable, know nothing more of the freebooters but their name, confound them with the mere pirates of two centuries later, and derive their knowledge of their manners from those dozen lines of the Abbé Reynal, that have been transferred from historian to historian, and from writer to writer, for the last two centuries. The chief records of Buccaneer adventurers are drawn literally from only three books. The first of these is _Oexmelin's Histoire des Aventuriers_. 12mo. Paris, 1688. Oexmelin was a Frenchman, who went out to St. Domingo as a planter's apprentice or _engagé_, and eventually became surgeon in the Buccaneer fleet--knew Lolonnois, and accompanied Sir Henry Morgan to Panama. The second is _Esquemeling's Zee Roovers_. Amsterdam. 4to. 1684.--A book constantly mistaken by booksellers and in catalogues for Oexmelin. Esquemeling was a Dutch _engagé_ at St. Domingo, and his book is an English translation from the Dutch. The writer appears of humbler birth than Oexmelin, but served also at Panama. The third is _Ringrose's History of the Cruises of Sharpe, &c._ This man, who served with Dampier, seems to have been an ignorant sailor, and a mere log-keeper. The fourth is _Ravenau de Lussan's Narrative_. De Lussan was a young French officer of fortune, who served in some of Ringrose's cruises. This is a book written by a vivacious and keen observer, but is less complete than Oexmelin's, but equally full of anecdote, and very amusing. For secondary authorities we come to the French Jesuit historians of the West Indian Islands, diffuse Rochefort, the gossiping _bon vivant_ Labat; Tertre, dry and prejudiced; Charlevoix, careful, condensed, and entertaining; and Raynal, polished, classical, second-hand, and declamatory. The English secondaries are, Dampier, with his companions, Wafer and Cowley. Several old pamphlets contain quaint versions of Morgan's conquest of Panama; and in 1817, Burney, in his "History of Discoveries in the South Sea," devotes many chapters to a dry but very imperfect abridgment of Buccaneer adventure, omitting carefully everything that gives either life or colour. Captain Southey, in his "History of the West Indies," supplies many odd scraps of old voyages, and presents many scattered figures, but attempts no picture. Nor has modern fiction, however short of material, discovered these new and virgin mines. Mrs. Hall has a novel, it is true, called _The Buccaneer_, the scene of which is, however, laid in England; and Angus B. Reach has skimmed the same subject, but has evidently not even read half the three existing authorities. Dana, the American poet, has a poem called the Buccaneer, but this is merely a collection of lines on the sea. Sir Walter Scott's Bertram, although he had been a Buccaneer, is a mere ruffian, who would do for any age, and Scott himself places Morgan's conquest of Panama in the reign of Charles I., when it actually took place in that of Charles II., fifty years later. Defoe himself, little conscious of the rich region he was treading, sketched a Buccaneer sailor when he re-christened Alexander Selkirk Robinson Crusoe, and condensed all the spirit of Dampier into a book still read as eagerly by the man as by the boy. When I find a writer of Scott's profundity of reading and depth of research placing the great event of Buccaneer history fifty years before its time, booksellers mistaking a Dutch for a French writer, and living historians confounding the Flibustiers of Tortuga, who attacked only the Spaniards, with their degraded successors the pirates of New Providence, who robbed all nations and even their own without mercy, I think I have proved that my book is not a superfluity. It is seldom that an author can invite the whole reading world to peruse the self-rewarding labour of his student life. Mine is no book for a sect, a clique, a profession, or a trade. It brings new scenes and new creations to the novel reader, jaded with worn-out types of conventional existence. It supplies the historian with a page of English, French, and Spanish history that the capricious muse of history has hitherto kept in MS. It traces the foundation of our colonial empire. To the psychologist it furnishes deep matter for thought, while the philosopher may see in these pages humanity in a new aspect, and man's soul exposed to new temptations. What Dampier has described and Defoe drawn materials from, no man can dare to assert is wanting in interest. The readers to whom these books are new will be astonished to find the adventures of Xenophon paralleled in De Lussan's retreat over the Isthmus, and Swift forestalled in his conception of some of the oddest customs of Lilliput. Oexmelin, I may boldly assert, is a much more amusing writer than half our historians, a keen and enlightened observer, who looked upon Buccaneering as a chivalrous life, in which the sea knight got equally hard knocks as the land hero, but more money. If my characters are not so grand as those of history, I can present to my reader men as greedy of gold, ambitious and sagacious as Pizarro or Cortes, and as reckless as Alexander, and as cruel as Cæsar. If the Buccaneers were but insects, bred from the putrefactions of a decaying empire, their plans were at least gigantic, and their courage unprecedented. Anomalous beings, hunters by land and sea, scaring whole fleets with a few canoes, sacking cities with a few grenadiers, devastating every coast from California to Cape Horn, they only needed a common principle of union to have founded an aggressive republic, as wealthy as Venice and as warlike as Carthage. One great mind and the New World had been their own. But from the first Providence sowed amongst them the seeds of discord--difference of religion and difference of race. Never settling, their race had its ranks renewed, not by descendants, but by fresh recruits, men with new interests and lower aims. In less than a century the Brotherhood had passed away, their virtues were forgotten and their vices alone remembered. The Buccaneers were robbers, yet they sought something beyond gold. Mansvelt took the island of St. Catherine, and planned a republic, and Morgan contemplated the destruction of the Bravo Indians. They were outlaws, and yet religious robbers, yet generous and regardful of the minutest delicacies of honour; lovers of freedom, yet obeying the sternest discipline; cruel, yet tender to their friends. All the light and shade of the darkest fiction look poor beside the adventures of these men. Catholics, Protestants, Puritans, gallants, officers, common seamen, farmers' sons, men of rank, hunters, sailors, planters, murderers, fanatics, Creoles, Spaniards, negroes, astrologers, monks, pilots, guides, merchants--all pass before us in a motley and ever-changing masquerade. The backgrounds to these scenes are the wooded shores of the West Indian Islands, woods sparkling at night with fire-flies, broad savannahs dark with wild cattle, the volcanic islands peopled by marooned sailors, stormy promontories, the lonely sand "keys" of Jamaica, and the rocky fastnesses of Tortuga. MONARCHS OF THE MAIN. CHAPTER I. HISTORY OF TORTUGA. The precursors of the Buccaneers--Description of Tortuga--Origin of the Buccaneers--Conquest of Tortuga by the French--The hunters, planters, and corsairs--Le Basque takes Maracaibo--War in Hispaniola--French West Indian Company buy Tortuga--The Governor, M. D'Ogeron. Drake, Cavendish, and Oxenham, indeed all the naval heroes of Elizabeth's reign, were the precursors of the Buccaneers. The captains of those "tall ships" that sailed from Plymouth Sound, and the green nooks of the sunny coast of Devon, to capture stately carracks laden deep with silks, spices, pearls, and precious stones, the treasure of Potosi and Peru, were but Buccaneers under another name, agreeing with them in the great principle of making war on none but Spaniards, but on Spaniards unceasingly. "No peace beyond the line" was the motto on the flag of both Drake and Morgan. Sir John Hawkins, who began the slave trade, and who was Drake's earliest patron, took the town of Rio de la Hacha, and struggled desperately with the galleons in the port of St. Juan d'Ulloa. Drake sacked Nombre de Dios, and, passing across the isthmus, stormed Vera Cruz. He destroyed St. Domingo and Carthagena, burnt La Rancheria, and attacked Porto Rico. But still more truly a Buccaneer was John Oxenham, one of Drake's followers, who, cruising about Panama, captured several bullion vessels; but was at last slain, with all his men, having fallen in love with a Spanish captive, and liberated her son, who surprised him with reinforcements from Nombre de Dios. Then came Raleigh, more chivalrous than them all--looser in principle, but wiser in head. He planned an attack on Panama, and ravaged St. Thomas's. The first Buccaneers were poor French hunters, who, driven by the Spaniards out of Hispaniola, fled to the neighbouring island of Tortuga, and there settled as planters. This Buccaneer colony of Tortuga arose rather by accident than by the design of any one ambitious mind. The French had established a colony in the almost deserted island of St. Christopher's, which had begun to flourish when the Spaniards, alarmed at a hostile power's vicinity to their mines, to which their thoughts then alone tended, put a stop to the prosperity of the French settlements by frequent attacks made by their fleets on their way to New Spain. From the just hatred excited by these unprovoked forays sprang the first impulse of retaliation. These injuries provoked the French, as they had done the Dutch, to fit out privateers. But a still more powerful motive soon became paramount. A spirit of cupidity arose, which was stimulated by the heated imaginations of men poor and angry. Before them lay regions of gold, timidly guarded by a vindictive but feeble enemy; and Spain became to these pioneer settlers what a bedridden miser is to the dreams of a needy bravo. The report of the Dutch successes spread through all the ports of France. Sailors were the ready bearers of wild tales they had themselves half invented. Some hardy adventurers of Dieppe fitted out vessels to carry on a warfare that retaliation had now rendered just, war made legal, and chance rendered profitable. The sailor who was to-day munching his onion on the quays of Marseilles might, a few weeks hence, be lord of Carthagena, or rolling in the treasures of a Manilla galleon, clothed in Eastern silks, and delighted with the perfumes of India. Finding their enterprise successful, but St. Kitt's too distant to form a convenient depôt for their booty, they began to look about for some nearer locality. At first they found their return voyages to the West Indian islands frequently occupying three months, which seemed years to men hurrying to store up old plunder, and to sally forth for new. In search of an asylum, these privateersmen touched at Hispaniola, hoping to find some lonely island near its shores; but as soon as they had landed, and saw the great forests full of game, and broad savannahs alive with wild cattle, and finding it abandoned by the Spaniards, and the Indians nearly all dead or emigrated, they determined to settle at a place so full of advantages, where they could revictual their ships, and remain secure and unobserved. The sight of Tortuga, a small neighbouring island, rocky, and yet not without a harbour, convinced them that nature had constructed for their growing empire at once a magazine, a citadel, and a fortress. They had now a sanctuary and a haven, shelter for their booty, and food for their men. The Spaniards, although not occupying the island, were anxious that it should not be occupied by others. They had long had a foreboding that this island would become a resort for pirates, and had just garrisoned it with an alfarez and twenty-five men. The French had, however, little difficulty in getting rid of this small force, the soldiers being enraged at finding themselves left by their countrymen, without provisions or reinforcements, upon a barren rock. Once masters of the heap of stones, the French began to deliberate by what means they could retain it. The sight of buildings already begun, and the prospect of more food than they could get at St. Christopher's, determined these restless men to settle on the spot they had won. Part of them returned to Hispaniola to kill oxen and boars, and to salt the flesh for those who would remain to plant; and those men who determined to build assured the sailors that stores of dry meat should always be ready to revictual their ships. The adventurers, having a nucleus for their operations, began to widen their operations. They became now divided into three distinct classes, always intermingling, and never very definitely divided, but still for the main part separate: the _sea rovers_, or flibustiers; the _planters_, or habitans; and the _hunters_, or buccaneers. For the first class, there were many names: the English, following an Indian word, called them Buccaneers, from the Indian term _boucan_ (dried meat); the Dutch denominated them Zee Roovers, and the French Flibustiers, or Aventuriers. A fourth class, growing by degrees either into the Buccaneers or the planters, were the apprentices, or _engagés_. A few French planters could not have retained the island had not their numbers been swelled by the addition of many English. In a short time, French vessels touched at the island, to trade for the booty that now arrived more frequently, unintermittingly, and in greater quantities. The trade grew less speculative and uncertain. French captains found it profitable to barter not only for hides and meat with the Buccaneers, but with the Flibustiers for silver-plate and pieces of eight. The high prices paid for wine and brandy soon rendered the commerce with Bordeaux a matter worthy the attention of the French Government. In a few days of Buccaneer excess more was spent in barter than could have been realised in months of average traffic with the more cautious. The Spaniards, fully alive to the danger of this planter settlement, determined to destroy it at a single blow. The design was easy of accomplishment, for the Buccaneers had grown careless from long impunity, and had long since crowned themselves undisputed kings of Hispaniola and its dependencies. Taking advantage of a time when the English corsairs were at sea and the French Buccaneers hunting on the mainland, the Spanish General of the Indian Fleet landed with a handful of soldiers and retook the island in an hour. The few planters were overpowered before they could run together, the hunters before they could seize their arms. Some were at once put to the sword, and others hung on the nearest trees. The larger portion, however, taking advantage of well-known lurking places, waited for the night, and then escaped to the mainland in their canoes. The Spaniards, satisfied with the terror they had struck, left the island un-garrisoned, and returned exultingly to St. Domingo. Hearing, however, that there were a great many Buccaneers still settled as hunters in Hispaniola, and that the wild cattle were diminishing by their ravages, the general levied some troops to put them down. To these men, who were known as the Spanish _Fifties_, we shall hereafter advert. The Spanish fleet was scarcely well out of sight before the Buccaneers, angry but unintimidated, flocked back to their now desolated island, full of rage at the sight of the bodies of their companions and the ashes of their ruined houses. The English returned headed by a Buccaneer named Willis, who gave an English character to the new colony. The French adventurers, jealous of English interference, and fearful that the island would fall into the possession of England, left Tortuga, and, going to St. Christopher's, informed the Governor, the Chevalier de Poncy, of the ease with which it could be conquered. De Poncy, alive to the scheme and jealous for French honour, fitted out an expedition, and intrusted the command to M. Le Vasseur, a brave soldier and good engineer, just arrived from France, who levied a force of forty French Protestants, and agreed to conquer the island for De Poncy and to govern in his name, as well as to pay half the expenses of the conquest. In a few days he dropped anchor in Port Margot, on the north side of Hispaniola, about seven leagues from Tortuga. He instantly collected a force of forty French Buccaneers from the woods and the savannahs, and, having arranged his plans, made a descent upon the island in the month of April, 1640. As soon as he had landed, he sent a message to the English Governor to say that he had come to avenge the insults received by the French flag, and to warn him that if he did not leave the island with all those of his nation in twenty-four hours, he should lay waste every plantation with fire and sword. The English, feeling their position untenable, instantly embarked in a vessel lying in the road, without (as Oexmelin, a French writer, says) striking a blow in self-defence. The French population of the island then, rising in arms, welcomed the invaders as friends. Le Vasseur, the bloodless conqueror of this new Barataria, was received with shouts and acclamations. He at once visited every nook of the island that needed defence, and prepared to insure it against reconquest either by the Spaniards or the English. He found it inaccessible on three sides; and on the unprotected quarter built a fort, on a peak of impregnable rock, rising 600 feet above the narrow path which it commanded. The summit of this rock was about thirty feet square, and could only be ascended by steps cut in the stone or by a moveable iron ladder. The fort held four guns. A spring of water completed the advantages of the spot, which was surrounded with walls and fenced in with hedges, woods, precipices, and every aid that art or nature could furnish. The only approach to this steep was a narrow avenue in which no more than three men could march abreast. The Buccaneers now flocked to Tortuga in greater numbers than before, some to congratulate the new governor on his victory, and others to enrol themselves as his subjects: all who came he received with promises of support and protection. The Spaniards, in the meanwhile, determined to crush this wasp's nest, fitted out at St. Domingo a new armament of six vessels, having on board 500 or 600 men. They at first anchored before the fort, but, receiving a volley, moored two leagues lower down, and landed their troops. In attempting to storm the fort by a _coup de main_, they were beaten off with the loss of 200 men, the garrison sallying out and driving them back to their ships. The now doubly victorious governor was hailed as the defender and saviour of Tortuga. The news of victory soon reached the ears of M. de Poncy, at St. Christopher's, who, at first rejoiced at the success, became soon afraid of the ambition of his new ally. Fearing that he would repudiate the contract, and declare himself an independent sovereign, he took the precaution of testing his sincerity. He sent two of his relations to Tortuga to request land as settlers, but really to act as spies. Le Vasseur, subtle and penetrating, at once detected their object. He received the young men with great civility, but took care to secure their speedy return to St. Christopher's. Having now attained the summit of his wishes, he became, as many greater men have been, intoxicated with power. His temper changed, and he grew severe, suspicious, intolerant, and despotic. He not only bound his subjects in chains, but delighted to clank the fetters, and remind them of their slavery. He ill-used the planters, loaded the merchants with taxes, punished the most venial faults, and grew as much hated as he had been once beloved. He went so far in his tyranny as to forbid the exercise of the Catholic religion, to burn the churches and expel the priests. The murder of such a persecutor has always been held a sin easily forgiven by the confessor, and lust and superstition soon gave birth to murder. Charlevoix relates an amusing instance of the governor's contumacy. De Poncy, informed that his vessels had taken a silver idol (a Virgin Mary) from some Spanish cathedral, wrote to demand its surrender. Le Vasseur returned a wooden image by the messenger, desiring him to say, that for religious purposes, wood or silver was equally good. One of his most cruel inventions Le Vasseur called his "hell." It seems to have resembled the portable iron cages in which Louis XI. used to confine his state prisoners. M. de Poncy, informed of the extraordinary change in the character of Le Vasseur, endeavoured to beguile him by promises, threats, and entreaties. Justice gave him now a pretext of enforcing what self-interest had long meditated. The toils were growing closer round the doomed man, but Heaven sent a speedier punishment. Le Vasseur, still waiving all openings for formal complaint, was exulting in all the glory of a small satrapy, when two nephews conspired against his life. Cupidity inspired the crime, and they easily persuaded themselves that God and man alike demanded the expiation. One writer calls them simply captains, "companions of fortune," and another, the nephews of Le Vasseur. These ungrateful men had already been declared his heirs, but they had quarrelled with him about a mistress he had taken from them, and one fault in a friend obliterates the remembrance of many virtues. They believed that the inhabitants, rejoiced at deliverance from such tyranny, would appoint them joint governors in the first outburst of their gratitude. They shot him from an ambush as he was descending from the rock fort to the shore, but, only wounding him slightly, were obliged to complete the murder with a poignard. The wounded man called for a priest, and declared himself, with his last breath, a steadfast Catholic. He seems to have been a dark, wily man, of strong passions, tenacious ambition, and ungovernable will. While this crime was perpetrating, De Poncy, determined to recover possession of at least his share of Tortuga, and weary and angry at the subterfuges of Le Vasseur, had resolved upon a new expedition. The leader was a Chevalier de Fontenoy, a soldier of fortune, who, attracted by the sparkle of Spanish gold, had just arrived at St. Kitt's in a French frigate. Full of chivalry, he at once proposed to sail, although informed that the place was impregnable, and could only be taken by stratagem. While the armament was fitting up, he made a cruise round Carthagena, on the look out for Spanish prizes, and joined M. Feral, a nephew of the general, at Port de Paix, a rendezvous twelve leagues from Tortuga. Informed there of the murder of Le Vasseur, they at once sailed for the harbour, and landed 500 men at the spot where the Spaniards had formerly been repulsed. The two murderers immediately capitulated, on condition of being allowed to depart with all their uncle's treasure. The Chevalier was proclaimed governor, and received with as many acclamations as Le Vasseur had been before him. The old religion was restored, and commerce patronized and protected, by royal edict. Two bastions were added to the fort, and more guns mounted. The Buccaneers crowded back in greater numbers than even on Le Vasseur's arrival. Before they had only imagined the advantages of this conquest, but now they had tasted them. The Chevalier hailed all Buccaneers as friends and brothers, and even himself fitted out privateers. The Spanish ships could scarcely venture out of port, and one merchant alone is known to have lost 300,000 crowns' worth of merchandise in a single year. It is easier to conquer than to retain a conquest, and vigilance grows blunted by success. The Chevalier, too confident in his strength, allowed half his population to embark in cruisers. The sick, the aged, the maimed, laboured in the plantations with the slaves. The Spaniards, informed of this, landed in force, without resistance. The few Buccaneers crowded into the fort, which the enemy dared not approach. Discovering, however, a mountain that commanded the rock, precipitous, but still accessible, they determined to plant a battery upon it, and drive the Buccaneers from their last foothold. With infinite vigour and determination they hewed a road to the mountain between two rocks. Making frames of wood, they lashed on their cannons, and forced the slaves and prisoners to drag them to the summit, and, with a battery of four guns, suddenly opened a fire upon the unguarded fort. The Chevalier, not expecting this enterprise, had just deprived himself of his last defence, by cutting down the large trees that grew round the walls. In spite of all the threats and expostulations of the governor, the garrison, galled by this plunging fire, at once capitulated. They left the island in twenty-four hours, with arms and baggage, drums beating, colours flying, and match burning, and set sail in two half-scuttled vessels lying in the road, having first given hostages not to serve against Spain for a given time. In another vessel, but alone, set sail the two murderers, who, being short of food, consummated their crimes by leaving the women and children of their company on a desert island. The Spanish general, repairing the fort, garrisoned it with sixty men, whom he supplied with provisions. Fontenoy, repulsed in an attempt to recover the island, soon afterwards returned to France. In 1655, when Admiral Penn appeared off St. Domingo with Cromwell's fleet, the Spaniards, to increase their forces in Hispaniola, recalled the troop which had held Tortuga eighteen months--the commander first blowing up the fort, burning the church, the houses, and the magazines, and devastating the plantations. Not long afterwards, an English refugee of wealth, Elias Ward (or, as the French call him, _Elyazouärd_), came from Jamaica, with his family and a dozen soldiers, and with an English commission from the general, and was soon joined by about 120 French and English adventurers. The treaty of the Pyrenees, in 1659, brought no repose to the hunters of Hispaniola from Spanish inroads. The planters were compelled to work armed, and to keep watch at night for fear of being murdered in their beds. In 1667 the war recommencing, let the bloodhounds, who had long been straining in the leash, free to raven and devour. De Lisle again plundered St. Jago, and obtained 2,500 piastres ransom, each of his adventurers secured 300 crowns, the Spaniards abandoning the defiles and carrying off their treasure to Conception. This was the golden age of Buccaneering. Vauclin, Ovinet, and Tributor, plundered the towns of Cumana, Coro, St. Martha, and Nicaragua. Le Basque, with only forty men, surprised Maracaibo by night. He seized the principal inhabitants and shut them in the cathedral, and threatened to instantly cut off their heads if the citizens ventured to rise in arms. Daylight discovering his feeble force, he could obtain no ransom. The Flibustiers then retreated, each man driving a prisoner before him, a pistol slung in one hand and a naked sabre raised over the Spaniard's head in the other. These hostages were detained twenty-four hours, and released at the moment the French departed. This is the same Le Basque whom Charlevoix describes as cutting out the Margaret from under the cannon of Portobello, and winning a million piastres. At another time, they retreated laden with booty and carrying with them the Governor and the principal citizens of St. Jago; but the Spaniards, rallying, placed themselves, 1,000 in number, in an ambuscade by the way, trusting to their numbers and expecting an easy victory. The French, turning well, scarcely missed a shot, and in a short time killed 100 of the enemy's men, and, wounding a great many more, drove them off after two hours' fighting. They rallied and returned in a short time, determined to conquer or die; but the French, showing the prisoners, declared that if a shot was fired by the enemy they would kill them before their eyes, and would then sell their own lives dearly. This menace frightened the Spaniards, and the Flibustiers continued their retreat unmolested. Having waited some time in vain on the coast for the ransom, they left the prisoners unhurt, and returned gaily to Tortuga. In 1663, Spain, finding that France in secret encouraged the Buccaneers of Hispaniola, gave orders to exterminate every Frenchman in the island, promising recompence to those who distinguished themselves in the war. An old Flemish officer, named Vandelinof, who had served with distinction in the Low Country wars, took the command. His first stratagem was to attempt to surprise the chief French boucan, at Gonaive, on the Brûlé Savannah, with 800 men. The hunters, observing them, gave the alarm, and, collecting 100 "brothers," advanced to meet them in a defile where the Spanish numbers were of no avail. The Fleming was killed at the first volley, and after an obstinate struggle the Spaniards fled to the mountains. The enemy, after this defeat, returned to their old and safer plan of night surprises--which frequently succeeded, owing to the negligent watch kept by the Buccaneers. The hunters, much harassed by the constant sense of insecurity, began to retire every night to the small islands round St. Domingo, and seldom went alone to the chase. Some boucans, such as those at the port of Samana, grew rapidly into towns. Near this excellent harbour the cattle were unusually abundant, and in a few hours the Flibustier could carry his hides to his market at Tortuga. Gradually French and Dutch vessels began to visit the port to buy hides and to trade. Every morning before starting to the savannah, the hunters climbed the highest hill to see if any Spaniards were visible. They then agreed on a rendezvous for the evening, arriving there to the moment. If any one was missing he was at once known to be taken or killed, and no one was permitted to return home till their comerade's death had been avenged. One evening the hunters of Samana, missing four of the band, marched towards St. Jago, and, discovering from some prisoners that their companions had been massacred, entered a Spanish village and slew every one they met. The Spaniards too had sometimes their revenge. "The river of massacre" near Samana was so called from thirty Buccaneers who were slain there while fording the river laden with hides. Another band of hunters, led by Charles Tore, had been hunting at a place called the Bois-Brûlé Savannah, and having completed the number of skins the merchants had contracted for, returned to Samana. Crossing a savannah they were surprised by an overwhelming force of Spaniards, and, in spite of a desperate resistance, slain to a man. The Buccaneers, irritated by these losses, began to think of revenge. When the Spaniards destroyed the wild cattle, some turned planters about Port de Paix, others became Flibustiers. The death of De Poncy threw the French colonies into some disorder, and Tortuga was for awhile forgotten both by the home and colonial government. During this interval a gentleman of Perigord, named Rossy, a retired Buccaneer, resolved to resume his old profession. Returning to St. Domingo, he was hailed as a father by the hunters, who proposed to him to recover Tortuga. Rossy, knowing that fidelity is the last virtue that forsakes the heart, accepted their proposal with the enthusiasm of a gambler accustomed to such desperate casts. He was soon joined by five hundred refugees, burning for conquest and revenge. They assembled in canoes at a rendezvous in Hispaniola, and agreed to land one hundred men on the north side of the island and surprise the mountain fort. The Spaniards in the town, not even entrenched, were soon beaten into the fort. The garrison of the rock were rather astonished to be awoke at break of day by a salute from the neighbouring mountain, when they could see the enemy still quietly encamped below. Sallying out, they could discern no opponents, but before they could regain the fort were all cut to pieces or made prisoners. The survivors were at once thrust into a boat and sent to Cuba, and Rossy declared governor. He soon after received a commission from the French king, together with a permission to levy a tax, for the support of his dignity, of a tenth of all prizes brought into Tortuga. Rossy governed quietly for some years, and eventually retired to his native country to die, and La Place, his nephew, reigned in his stead. In 1664, the French West India Company became masters of Tortuga and the Antilles, and appointed M. D'Ogeron, a gentleman of Anjou who had failed in commerce, as their governor. He proved a good administrator, and built magazines and storehouses for his grateful and attached people. D'Ogeron soon established order and prosperity in the island, which became a refuge for the red flag and the terror of the Spaniards. He colonised all the north side of Hispaniola, from Port Margot, where he had a house, to the three rivers opposite Tortuga. He attracted colonists from the Antilles, and brought over women from France, in order to settle his nomadic and mutinous population. In 1661, the West India Company, dissatisfied with the profits of their merchandize, resolved to relinquish the colony and call in their debts; and it was in the St. John, sent out for this purpose, that the Buccaneer historian Oexmelin, whom we shall have frequently to quote, first visited Tortuga. D'Ogeron, determined not to relinquish a settlement already beginning to flourish, hastened to France, and persuaded some private merchants to continue the trade. They promised to fit out twelve vessels annually, if he would supply them with back freight. He on his part agreed to provide the colonists with slaves and to destroy the wild dogs, which were committing great ravages among the herds of Hispaniola. This new company did not answer. The inhabitants suffered by the monopoly, and grew discontented at only being allowed to trade with certain vessels, and being obliged to turn their backs on better bargains or cheaper merchandize. An accident lit the train. M. D'Ogeron attempted to prevent their trading with some Dutch merchants, and they rose in arms. Shots were fired at the governor, and the revolters threatened to burn out the planters who would not join their flag. But succours from the Antilles soon brought them to their senses, and, one of their ringleaders being hung, they surrendered at discretion. The governor, alarmed even at an outbreak that he had checked, made in his turn concessions. He permitted all French merchants to trade upon paying a heavy harbour due, and the number of ships soon became too numerous for the limited commerce of the place. M. D'Ogeron next procured colonists from Brittany and Anjou, and eventually, after some further exploits, very daring but always unfortunate, he was succeeded in command by his nephew M. De Poncy. There are several Tortugas. There is one in the Caribbean sea, another near the coast of Honduras, a third not far from Carthagena, and a fourth in the gulf of California; they all derived their names from their shape, resembling the turtle which throng in these seas. The Buccaneer fastness with which we have to do is the Tortuga of the North Atlantic Ocean, a small rocky island about 60 leagues only in circumference, and distant barely six miles from the north coast of Hispaniola. This Tortuga was to the refugee hunters of the savannahs what New Providence became to the pirates, and the Galapagos islands to the South Sea adventurers of half a century later. It had only one port, the entrance to which formed two channels: on two sides it was iron-bound, and on the other defended by reefs and shoals, less threatening than the cliffs, but not less dangerous. Though scantily supplied with spring water--a defect which the natives balanced by a free use of "the water of life"--the interior was very fertile and well wooded. Palm and sandal wood trees grew in profusion; sugar, tobacco, aloes, resin, China-root, indigo, cotton, and all sorts of tropical plants were the riches of the planters. The cultivators were already receiving gifts from the earth, which--liberal benefactor--she gave without expecting a return, for the virgin soil needed little seed, care, or nourishment. The island was too small for savannahs, but the tangled brushwood abounded in wild boars. The harbour had a fine sand bottom, was well sheltered from the winds, and was walled in by the Coste de Fer rocks. Round the habitable part of the shore stretched sands, so that it could not be approached but by boats. The town consisted of only a few store-houses and wine shops, and was called the _Basse Terre_. The other five habitable parts of the island were Cayona, the Mountain, the Middle Plantation, the Ringot, and Mason's Point. A seventh, the Capsterre, required only water to make it habitable, the land being very fertile. To supply the want of springs, the planters collected the rain water in tanks. The soil of the island was alternately sand and clay, and from the latter they made excellent pottery. The mountains, though rocky, and scarcely covered with soil, were shaded with trees of great size and beauty, the roots of which clung like air plants to the bare rock, and, netting them round, struck here and there deeper anchors into the wider crevices. This timber was so dry and tough that, if it was cut and exposed to the heat of the sun, it would split with a loud noise, and could therefore only be used as fuel. This favoured island boasted all the fruits of the Antilles: its tobacco was better than that of any other island; its sugar canes attained an enormous size, and their juice was sweeter than elsewhere; its numerous medicinal plants were exported to heal the diseases of the Old World. The only four-footed animal was the wild boar, originally transplanted from Hispaniola. As it soon grew scarce, the French governor made it illegal to hunt with dogs, and required the hunter to follow his prey single-handed and on foot. The wood-pigeons were almost the only birds in the island. They came in large flocks at certain periods of the year; Oexmelin says that, in two or three hours, without going eighty steps from the road, he killed ninety-five with his own hand. As soon as they eat a certain berry their flesh became bitter as our larks do when they move from the stubbles into the turnips. A Gascon visitor, once complaining of their sudden bitterness, was told by a Buccaneer as a joke that his servant had forgot to remove the gall. Fish abounded round the island, and crabs without nippers; the night fishermen carrying torches of the candle-wood tree. The shell fish was the food of servants and slaves, and was said to be so indigestible as to frequently produce giddiness and temporary blindness; the turtle and manitee, too, formed part of their daily diet. The planters were much tormented by the white and red land-crabs, or tourtourons, which lived in the earth, visited the sea to spawn, and at night gnawed the sugar-canes and the roots of plants. Their only venomous reptile was the viper, which they tamed to kill mice; in a wild state, it fed on poultry or pigeons. From the stomach of one Oexmelin drew seven pigeons and a large fowl, which had been swallowed about three hours before, and cooked them for his own dinner, verifying the old proverb of "robbing Peter to pay Paul." In times of scarcity these snakes were eaten for food. Besides chameleons and lizards, there were small insects with shells like a snail. These were considered good to eat and very nourishing. When held near the fire, they distilled a red oily liquid useful as a rheumatic liniment. Though the scorpions and scolopendrias were not venomous, nature, always just in her compensations, covered the island with poisonous shrubs. The most fatal of these was the noxious mançanilla. It grew as high as a pear tree, had leaves like a wild laurel, and bore fruit like an apple; this fruit was so deadly, that even fish that ate of it, if they did not die, became themselves poisonous, and were known by the blackness of their teeth. The only antidote was olive oil. The Indian fishermen used, as a test, to taste the heart of the fish they caught, and if it proved bitter they knew at once that it had been poisoned, and threw it away. The very rain-drops that fell from the leaves were deadly to man and beast, and it was as dangerous to sleep under its shadow as under the upas. The friendly boughs invited the traveller (as vice does man) to rest under their shade; but when he awoke he found himself sick and faint, and covered with feverish sores. New-comers were too frequently tempted by the sight and odour of the fruit, and the only remedy for the rash son of Adam was to bind him down, and, in spite of heat and pain, to prevent him drinking for two or three days. The body of the sufferer became at first "red as fire, and his tongue black as ink," then a great torment of thirst and fever came upon him, but slowly passed away. Another poisonous shrub resembled the pimento; its berries were used by the Indians to rub their eyes, giving them, as they believed, a keener sight, and enabling them to see the fish deeper in the water and to strike them at a greater distance with the harpoon. The root of this bush was a poison, so deadly that the only known antidote for it was its own berries, bruised and drunk in wine. Of another plant, Oexmelin relates an instance of a negro girl being poisoned by a rejected lover, by merely putting some of its leaves between her toes when asleep. CHAPTER II. MANNERS OF THE HUNTERS. Derivation of the words Buccaneer and Flibustier--The three classes--Dress of the hunters--West Indian scenery--Method of hunting--Wild dogs--Anecdotes--Wild oxen, wild boars, and wild horses--Buccaneer food--Cow killing--Spanish method--Amusements--Duels--Adventures with the Spanish militia--The hunters driven to sea--The _engagés_, or apprentices--Hide curing--Hardships of the bush life--The planter's _engagés_--Cruelties of planters--The _matelotage_--Huts--Food. The hunters of the wild cattle in the savannahs of Hispaniola were known under the designation of Buccaneers as early as the year 1630. They derived this name from _boucan_,[1] an old Indian word which their luckless predecessors, the Caribs, gave to the hut in which they smoked the flesh of the oxen killed in hunting, or not unfrequently the limbs of their persecutors the Spaniards. They applied the same term, from the poverty of an undeveloped language, to the _barbecue_, or square wooden frame upon which the meat was dried. In course of time this hunters' food became known as _viande boucanée_, and the hunters themselves gradually assumed the name of Buccaneers. [1] Charlevoix's "Histoire de l'Ile Espagnole," p. 6, vol. ii Their second title of Flibustiers was a mere corruption of the English word freebooters--a German term, imported into England during the Low Country wars of Elizabeth's reign. It has been erroneously traced to the Dutch word _flyboat_; but the Jesuit traveller, Charlevoix, asserts that, in fact, this species of craft derived its title from being first used by the Flibustiers, and not from its swiftness. This, however, is evidently a mistake, as Drayton and Hakluyt use the word; and it seems to be of even earlier standing in the French language. The derivation from the English word freebooter is at once seen when the _s_ in Flibu_s_tier becomes lost in pronunciation. In 1630, a party of French colonists, who had failed in an attack on St. Christopher's, finding, as we have shown, Hispaniola almost deserted by the Spaniards, who neglected the Antilles to push their conquests on the mainland, landed on the south side and formed a settlement, discovering the woods and the plains to be teeming with wild oxen and wild hogs. The Dutch merchants promised to supply them with every necessary, and to receive the hides and tallow that they collected in exchange for lead, powder, and brandy. These first settlers were chiefly Normans, and the first trading vessels that visited the coast were from Dieppe. The origin of the Buccaneers, or hunters, and the Flibustiers, or sea rovers, as the Dutch called them, was contemporaneous. From the very beginning many grew weary of the chase and became corsairs, at first turning their arms against all nations but their own, but latterly, as strict privateersmen, revenging their injuries only on the Spaniards, with whom France was frequently at war, and generally under the authority of regular or forged commissions obtained from the Governor of St. Domingo or some other French settlement. Between the Buccaneers and Flibustiers no impassable line was drawn; to chase the wild ox or the Spaniard was the same to the greater part of the colonists, and on sea or land the hunter's musket was an equally deadly weapon. Two years after the French refugees from St. Christopher's had landed on the half-deserted shores of Hispaniola, the Flibustiers seized the small adjoining island of Tortuga, attracted by its safe and well-defended harbour, its fertility, and the strength of its natural defences. The French and English colonists of St. Christopher's began now to cultivate the small plantations round the harbour, encouraged by the number of French trading vessels that visited it, and by the riches that the Flibustiers captured from the Spaniards. These vessels brought over young men from France to be bound to the planters for three years as _engagés_, by a contract that legalized the transitory slavery. There were thus at once established four classes of men--_Buccaneers_, or hunters; _planters_, or inhabitants; _engagés_, who were apprenticed to either the one or the other; and _sea-rovers_. They governed themselves by a sort of democratic compact--each inhabitant being monarch in his own plantation, and every Flibustier king on his own deck. But the latter was not unfrequently deposed by his crew; and the former, if cruel to his _engagés_, was compelled to submit to the French governor's interference. Before giving any history of the various revolutions in Tortuga, or the wars of the Spaniards in Hispaniola, we will describe the manners of each of the three classes we have mentioned. And first of the Buccaneers, or hunters, of Hispaniola. These wild men fed on the bodies of the cattle they killed in hunting, and by selling their hides and tallow obtained money enough to buy the necessaries and even the luxuries of life,--for the gambling table and the debauch. While the Flibustiers called each other "brothers of the coast," the Buccaneers were included in the generic term "_gens de la côté_," and in time the names of Buccaneer and Flibustier were used indiscriminately. The hunter's dress consisted of a plain shirt, or blouse (Du Tertre calls it a sack), belted at the waist with a bit of green hide. It was soon dyed a dull purple with the blood of the wild bull, and was always smeared with grease. "When they returned from the chase to the boucan," says the above-named writer, "you would say that these are the butcher's vilest servants, who have been eight days in the slaughterhouse without washing." As they frequently carried the meat home by cutting a hole in the centre, and thrusting their heads through it, we may imagine the cannibals that they must have looked. They wore drawers, or frequently only tight mocassins, reaching to the knee; their sandals were of bull's hide or hog skin, fastened with leather laces. In Oexmelin's _Histoire des Aventuriers_, the hunter is represented with bare feet, but this could not have been usual, when we remember the danger of chigoes, snakes, and scorpions, not to speak of prickly pear coverts and thorny brakes. From their leather waist belt hung a short, heavy _machete_ or sabre, and an alligator skin case of Dutch hunting knives. On their heads they wore a leather skull-cap, shaped like our modern jockey's, with a peak in front. They wore their hair falling wildly on their shoulders, and their huge beards increased the ferocity of their appearance. Oexmelin particularly mentions the beard, although no existing engraving of the Buccaneer chiefs represents them with this grim ornament. According to Charlevoix, some of them wore a shirt, and over this a sort of brewer's apron, or coarse sacking tunic, open at the sides. From this shirt being always stained with blood, perhaps sometimes purposely dipped into it, the Abbé Reynal supposes that such a shirt was the necessary dress of the Buccaneer. Oexmelin says that as his vessel approached St. Domingo, "a Buccaneers' canoe came off with six men at the paddles, whose appearance excited the astonishment of all those on board, who had never before been out of France. They wore a small linen tunic and short drawers, reaching only half down the thigh. It required one to look close to see if the shirt was linen or not, so stained was it with the blood which had dripped from the animals they kill and carry home. All of them had large beards, and carried at their girdle a case of cayman skin, in which were four knives and a bayonet." Like the Canadian trappers, or, indeed, sportsmen in general, they were peculiarly careful of their muskets, which were made expressly for them in France, the best makers being Brachie of Dieppe, and Gelu of Nantes. These guns were about four feet and a half long, and were known everywhere as "Buccaneering pieces." The stocks were square and heavy, with a hollow for the shoulder, and they were all made of the same calibre, single barrel, and carrying balls sixteen to the pound. Every hunter took with him fifteen or twenty pounds of powder, the best of which came from Cherbourg. They kept it in waxed calabashes to secure it from the damp, having no shelter or hut that would keep out the West Indian rains. Their bullet pouch and powder horn hung on either side, and their small tents they carried, rolled up tight like bandoliers, at their waist, for they slept wherever they halted, and generally in their clothes. We have no room and no colours bright enough to paint the chief features of the Indian woods, the cloven cherry, that resembles the arbutus, the cocoa with its purple pods, the red _bois immortel_, the stunted bastard cedar, the logwood with its sweet blossom and hawthorn-like leaf, the cashew with its golden fruit, the oleander, the dock-like yam, and the calabash tree. What Hesperian orchards are those where the citron, lemon, and lime cling together, and the pine-apple grows in prickly hedges, soft custard apples hang out their bags of sweetness, and the avocada swings its pears big as pumpkins; where the bread-fruit with its gigantic leaves, the glossy star apple, and the golden shaddock, drop their masses of foliage among the dewy and fresh underwood of plantains, far below the tall and graceful cocoa-nut tree. Michael Scott depicts with photographic exactness and brilliancy every phase of the West Indian day, and enables us to imagine the light and shade that surrounded the strange race of whom we write. At daybreak, the land wind moans and shakes the dew from the feathery palms; the fireflies grow pale, and fade out one after the other, like the stars; the deep croaking of the frog ceases, and the lizards and crickets are silent; the monkeys leave off yelling; the snore of the tree toad and the wild cry of the tiger-cat are no more heard; but fresh sounds arise, and the woods thrill with the voices and clatter of an awaking city; the measured tap of the woodpecker echoes, with the clear, flute-like note of the pavo del monte, the shriek of the macaw, and the chatter of the parroquet; the pigeon moans in the inmost forest, and the gabbling crows croak and scream. At noon, as the breeze continues, and the sun grows vertical, the branches grow alive with gleaming lizards and coloured birds, noisy parrots hop round the wild pine, the cattle retreat beneath the trees for shelter, to browse the cooler grass, and the condouli and passion flowers of all sizes, from a soup plate to a thumb ring, shut their blossoms; the very humming-birds cease to drone and buzz round the orange flowers, and the land-crab is heard rustling among the dry grass. In the swamps the hot mist rises, and the wild fowl flock to the reeds and canes in the muddy lagoons, where the strong smell of musk denotes the lurking alligator; the feathery plumes of the bamboos wave not, and the cotton tree moves not a limb. The rainy season brings far different scenes: then the sky grows suddenly black, the wild ducks fly screaming here and there, the carrion crows are whirled bodingly about the skies, the smaller birds hurry to shelter, the mountain clouds bear down upon the valleys, and a low, rushing sound precedes the rain. The torrents turn brown and earthy, all nature seems to wait the doom with fear. The low murmur of the earthquake is still more impressive, with the distant thunder breaking the deep silence, and the trees bending and groaning though the air is still. Besides the rains and the earthquakes, the tornadoes are still more dreadful visitants, when the air in a moment grows full of shivered branches, shattered roofs, and uptorn canes. The great features of the West Indian forests are the fireflies and the monkeys. At night, when the wind is rustling in the dry palm leaves, the sparkles of green fire break out among the trees like sparks blown from a thousand torches; the gloom pulses with them as the flame ebbs and flows, and the planters' chambers are filled with these harmless incendiaries. The yell of the monkeys at daybreak has been compared to a devils' holiday, to distant thunder, loose iron bars in a cart in Fleet Street, bagpipes, and drunken men laughing. To Coleridge we are indebted for word pictures of the cabbage tree, and the silk cotton tree with their buttressed trunks; the banyan with its cloistered arcades; the wild plantain with its immense green leaves rent in slips, its thick bunches of fruit, and its scarlet pendent seed; the mangroves, with their branches drooping into the sea; the banana, with its jointed leaves; the fern trees, twenty feet high; the gold canes, in arrowy sheaves; and the feathery palms. Nor do we forget the figuera, the bois le Sueur, or the wild pine burning like a topaz in a calix of emerald. Beneath the broad roof of creepers, from which the oriole hangs its hammock nest, grow, in a wild jungle of beauty, the scarlet cordia, the pink and saffron flower fence, the plumeria, and the white datura. The flying fish glided by us, says H.N. Coleridge, speaking of the Indian seas, bonitos and albicores played around the bows, dolphins gleamed in our wake, ever and anon a shark, and once a great emerald-coloured whale, kept us company. Elsewhere he describes the silver strand, fringed with evergreen drooping mangroves, and the long shrouding avenues of thick leaves that darkly fringe the blue ocean. By the shore grow the dark and stately manchineel, beautiful but noxious, the white wood, and the bristling sea-side grape, with its broad leaves and bunches of pleasant berries. The sea birds skim about the waves, and the red flamingoes stalk around the sandy shoals, while the alligators wallow on the mud banks, and the snowy pelicans hold their councils in solemn stupidity. Leaving the sea and the shore we wander on into the interior, for the West Indian vegetation has everywhere a common character, and see delighted the forest trees growing on the cliffs, knotted and bound together with luxuriant festoons of evergreen creepers, connecting them in one vast network of leaves and branches, the wild pine sparkling on the huge limbs of the wayside trees, beside it the dagger-like Spanish needle, the quilted pimploe, and the maypole aloe shooting its yellow flowered crown twenty feet above the traveller, or amid the dark foliage, twines of purple wreaths or lilac jessamine; and the woods ringing with the song of birds, interrupted at times by strange shrieks or moanings of some tropic wanderer; we see with these the snowy amaryllis, the gorgeous hibiscus with its crown of scarlet, the quivering limes and dark glossy orange bushes; we rest under the green tamarind or listen to the mournful creaking of the sand box tree. The Buccaneers went in pairs, every hunter having his _camerade_ or _matelot_ (sailor), as well as his _engagés_. They had seldom any fixed habitation, but pitched their tents where the cattle were to be found, building temporary sheds, thatched with palm leaves, to defend them from the rain and to lodge their stock of hides till they could barter it with the next vessel for wine, brandy, linen, arms, powder, or lead. They would return three leagues from the chase to their huts, laden with meat and skins, and if they ate in the open country it was always with their musket cocked and near at hand for fear of surprise. With their _matelots_ they had everything in common. The chief occupation of these voluntary outlaws was the chase of the wild ox, that of the wild boar being at first a mere amusement, or only followed as the means of procuring a luxurious meal; at a later period, however, many Frenchmen lived by hunting the hog, whose flesh they boucaned and sold for exportation, its flavour being superior to that of any other meat. The Buccaneers sometimes went in companies of ten or twelve, each man having his Indian attendant besides his apprentices. Before setting out they arranged a spot for rendezvous in case of attack. If they remained long in one place, they built thatched sheds under which to pitch their tents. They rose at daybreak to start for the chase, leaving one of the band to guard the huts. The masters generally went first and alone (sometimes the worst shot was left in the tent to cook), and the _engagés_ and the dogs followed; one hound, the _venteur_, went in front of all, often leading the hunter through wood and over rock where no path had ever been. When the quarry came in sight the dogs barked round it and kept it at bay till the hunters could come up and fire. They generally aimed at the breast of the bull, or tried to hamstring it as soon as possible. Many hunters ran down the wild cattle in the savannah and attacked it with their dogs. If only wounded the ox would rush upon them and gore all he met. But this happened very seldom, for the men were deadly shots, seldom missed their _coup_, and were always sufficiently active, if in danger, to climb the tree from behind which they had fired. The _venteur_ dog had a peculiar short bark by which he summoned the pack to his aid, and as soon as they heard it the _engagés_ rushed to the rescue. When the beast was half flayed, the master took out the largest bone and sucked the hot marrow, which served him for a meal, giving a bit also to the _venteur_, but not to any other dogs, lest they should grow lazy in hunting; but the last lagger in the pack had sometimes a bit thrown him to incite him to greater exertion. He then left the _engagés_ to carry the skin to the boucan, with a few of the best joints, giving the rest to the carrion crows, that soon sniffed out the blood. They continued the chase till each man had killed an ox, and the last returned home, laden like the rest with a hide and a portion of raw meat. By this time the first comer had prepared dinner, roasted some beef, or spitted a whole hog. The tables were soon laid; they consisted of a flat stone, the fallen trunk of a tree, or a root, with no cloth, no napkin, no bread, and no wine; pimento and orange juice were sufficient sauce for hungry men, and a contented mind and a keen appetite never quarrelled with rude cooking. This monotonous life was only varied by a conflict with a wounded bull, or a skirmish with the Spaniards. The grand fête days were when the hunter had collected as many hides as he had contracted to supply the merchant, and carried them to Tortuga, to Cape Tiburon, Samana, or St. Domingo, probably to return in a week's time, weary of drinking or beggared from the gambling table, tired of civilization, and restless for the chase. The wild cattle of Hispaniola--the oxen, hogs, horses, and dogs--were all sprung from the domestic animals originally brought from Spain. The dogs were introduced into the island to chase the Indians, a cruelty that even the mild Columbus practised. Esquemeling says, those first conquerors of the New World made use of dogs "to range and search the intricate thicket of woods and forests for those their implacable and unconquerable enemies; thus they forced them to leave their old refuge and submit to the sword, seeing no milder usage would do it. Hereupon they killed some of them, and, quartering their bodies, placed them on the highways, that others might take a warning from such a punishment. But this severity proved of ill consequence, for, instead of frighting them and reducing them to civility, they conceived such horror of the Spaniards that they resolved to detest and fly their sight for ever; hence the greatest part died in caves and subterraneous places of the woods and mountains, in which places I myself have often seen great numbers of human bones. The Spaniards, finding no more Indians to appear about the woods, turned away a great number of dogs they had in their houses; and they, finding no masters to keep them, betook themselves to the woods and fields to hunt for food to preserve their lives, and by degrees grew wild." The young of these maroon dogs the hunters were in the habit of bringing up. When they found a wild bitch with whelps, they generally took away the puppies and brought them to their tents, preferring them to any other sort of dog. They seem to have been between a greyhound and a mastiff. The Dutch writer whom we have just quoted mentions the singular fact, that these dogs, even in a wild state, retained their acquired habits. The _venteur_ always led the way, and was allowed to dip the first fangs into the victim. The wild dogs went in packs of fifty or eighty, and were so fierce that they would not scruple to attack a whole herd of wild boars, bringing down two or three at once. They destroyed a vast number of wild cattle, devouring the young as soon as a mare had foaled or a cow calved. "One day," says Esquemeling, "a French Buccaneer showed me a strange action of this kind. Being in the fields hunting together, we heard a great noise of dogs which had surrounded a wild boar. Having tame dogs with us we left them in custody of our servants, being desirous to see the sport. Hence my companion and I climbed up two several trees, both for security and prospect. The wild boar, all alone, stood against a tree, defending himself with his tusks from a great number of dogs that enclosed him, killed with his teeth and wounded several of them. This bloody fight continued about an hour, the wild boar meanwhile attempting many times to escape. At last flying, one dog leaped upon his back; and the rest of the dogs, perceiving the courage of their companion, fastened likewise on the boar, and presently killed him. This done, all of them, the first only excepted, laid themselves down upon the ground about the prey, and there peaceably continued till he, the first and most courageous of the troop, had eaten as much as he could. When this dog had left off, all the rest fell in to take their share till nothing was left." In 1668, the Governor of Tortuga, finding these dogs were rendering the wild boar almost extinct, and alarmed lest the hunters should leave a place where food was growing scarce, sent to France for poison to destroy these mastiffs, and placed poisoned horse flesh in the woods. But although this practice was continued for six months, and an incredible number were killed, yet the race soon appeared almost as numerous as before. The wild horses went in troops of about two or three hundred. They were awkward and mis-shapen, small and short-bodied, with large heads, long necks, trailing ears, and thick legs. They had always a leader, and when they met a hunter, stared at him till he approached within shot, then gallopped off all together. They were only killed for their skins, though their flesh was sometimes smoked for the use of the sailors. These horses were caught by stretching nooses along their tracks, in which they got entangled by the neck. When taken, they were quickly tamed by being kept two or three days without food, and were then used to carry hides. They were good workers, but easily lamed. When a Buccaneer turned them adrift from want of food to keep them through the winter, they were known to return ten months after, or, meeting them in the savannah, begin to whine and caress their old masters, and suffer themselves to be recaptured. They were also killed for the sake of the fat about the neck and belly, which the hunters used for lamp oil. The wild oxen were tame unless wounded, and their hides were generally from eleven to thirteen feet long. They were very strong and very swift, in spite of their short and slender legs. In the course of a single century from their introduction, they had so increased, that the French Buccaneers, when they landed, seldom went in search of them, but waited for them near the shore, at the salt pools where they came to drink. The herds fed at night on the savannahs, and at noon retired to the shelter of the forests. A wounded bull would often blockade, for four hours, a tree in which a hunter had taken refuge, bellowing round the trunk and ploughing at the roots with his horns. The French hunters generally shot them; but the Spanish "hocksers" rode them down on horseback, and hamstrung them with a crescent-shaped spear, in form something like a cheese-knife with a long handle. The wild boars, when much pressed, adopted the same military stratagem as the oxen. They threw themselves into the form of a hollow square, the sows in the rear and the sucking pigs in the middle, the white sabre tusks of the boars gleaming outwards towards the foe. The dogs always fastened upon the defenceless sow in preference to the ferocious male, whom they seldom attacked if it got at bay under a tree, though it might be alone, glaring before the red jaws of eighty yelping dogs. The wild boar hunting was less dangerous than that of the wild oxen, and less profitable. The hogs soon grew scarce, a party of hunters sometimes killing 100 in a day, and only carrying home three or four of the fattest. It was not uncommon for solitary hunters or _engagés_ who had lost their way in the woods to amuse themselves by training up the young hogs they found basking under the trees, and teaching them to track their own species and pull them down by tugging at their long leathery ears. Oexmelin, the most intelligent of the few Buccaneer writers, relates his own success in training four pigs, whom he taught to follow at his heels like dogs, to play with him, and obey his orders. When they saw a herd of boars they would run forward and decoy them towards him. On one occasion, one of them escaped into the plains, but returned three days after, very complacently heading a herd of hogs, of which his master and his _matelot_ killed four. It is not many years since that an English gamekeeper brought up a pig to get his own bread as a pointer. At first, when the green savannahs were spotted black with cattle, the hunters were so fastidious that they seldom ate anything but the udders of cows, considering bull meat too tough. Many a herd was killed, as at present in Australia or California, for the hide and tallow. If the first animal killed in the day's hunt was a cow, an _engagé_ was instantly sent to the tent with part of the flesh to cook for the evening. When the _engagés_ had each gone home with his joint and his hide, the Buccaneer followed with his own load, his dogs, tired and panting, lagging at his heels. If on his way back he met a boar, or more oxen, he threw down his fardel, slew a fresh victim, and, flaying it, hung the hide on a tree out of reach of the wild dogs, and came back for it on the morrow. On returning to the boucan, each man set to work to stretch (_brochéter_) his hide, fastening it tightly out with fourteen wooden pegs, and rubbing it with ashes and salt mixed together to make it dry quicker. When this was done, they sat down to partake of the food that the first comer had by this time cooked. The beef they generally boiled in the large cauldron which every hunter possessed, drawing it out when it was done with a wooden skewer. A board served them for a dish. With a wooden spoon they collected the gravy in a calabash; and into this they squeezed the juice of a fresh picked lemon, a crushed citron, or a little pimento, which formed the hunter's favourite sauce, _pimentado_. This being done with all the care of a Ude, they seized their hunting knives and wooden skewers, and commenced a solemn attack upon the ponderous joint. The residue they divided among their dogs. Père Labat, an oily Jesuit if we trust to his portrait, describes, with great gusto, a Buccaneer feast at which he was present, and at which a hog was roasted whole. The boucaned meat was used in voyages, or when no oxen could be met with. When they wanted to boucan a pig, they first flayed it and took out all the bones. The meat they cut in long slips, which they placed in mats, and there left it till the next day, when they proceeded to smoke it. The boucan was a small hut covered close with palm-mats, with a low entrance, and no chimney or windows: it contained a wooden framework seven or eight feet high, on which the meat was placed, and underneath which a charcoal fire was lit. The fire they always fed with the animal's own skin and bones, which made the smoke thick and full of ammonia. The volatile salt of the bones being more readily absorbed by the meat than the mere ligneous acid of wood, the result of this process was an epicurean mouthful far superior to our Westphalia hams, and more like our hung beef. Oexmelin waxes quite eloquent in its praise. He says it was so exquisite that it needed no cooking; its very look, red as a rose, not to mention its delightful fragrance, tempted the worst appetite to eat it, whatever it might be. The only misfortune was that six months after smoking, the meat grew tasteless and unfit for use; but when fresh, it was thought so wholesome that sick men came from a distance to live in a hunter's tent and share his food for a time. The first thing that passengers visiting the West Indies saw was a Buccaneers' canoe bringing dry meat for sale. The boucaned meat was sold in bales of sixty pounds' weight, and their pots of tallow were worth about six pieces of eight. Labat--no ordinary lover of good cheer, if we may judge from his portrait, which represents him with cheeks as plump as a pulpit cushion, and with fat rolls of double chin--describes the Buccaneer fare with much unction, having gone to a hunter's feast,--a corporeal treat intended as a slight return for much spiritual food. Each Buccaneer, he says, had two skewers, made of clean peeled wood, one having two spikes. The boucan itself was made of four stakes as thick as a man's arm, and about four feet long, struck in the ground to form a square five feet long and three feet across. On these forked sticks they placed cross bars, and upon these the spit, binding them all with withes. The wild boar, being skinned and gutted, was placed whole upon this spit, the stomach kept open with a stick. The fire was made of charcoal, and put on with bark shovels. The interior of the pig was filled with citron juice, salt, crushed pimento, and pepper; and the flesh was constantly pricked, so that this juice might penetrate. When the meat was ready, the cooks fired off a musket twice, to summon the hunters from the woods, while banana leaves were placed round for plates. If the hunters brought home any birds, they at once picked them and threw them into the stomach of the pig, as into a pot. If the hunters were novices, and brought home nothing, they were sent out again to seek it; if they were veterans, they were compelled to drink as many cups as the best hunter had that day killed deer, bulls, or boars. A leaf served to hold the pimento sauce, and a calabash to drink from, while bananas were their substitute for bread. The _engagés_ waited on their masters, and one of the penalties for clumsy serving was to be compelled to drink off a calabash full of sauce. The English "cow killers" and the French hunters were satisfied with getting as many hides as they could in the shortest possible time, but the Spanish _matadores_ gave the trade an air of chivalrous adventure by rivalling the feats of the Moorish bull-fighters of Granada. They did not use firearms, but carried lances with a half-moon blade, employing dogs, and, being generally men of wealth and planters, had servants on foot to encourage them to the attack. When they tracked an ox in the woods, they made the hounds drive him out into the prairie, where the matadors could spur after him, and, wheeling round the monster, hamstring him or thrust him through with a lance. Dampierre describes minutely the Spanish mode of hocksing. The horses were trained to retreat and advance without even a signal. The hocksing-iron, of a half-moon shape, measuring six inches horizontally, resembled in form a gardener's turf-cutter. The handle, some fourteen feet long, was held like a lance over the horse's head, a matador's steed being always known by its right ear being bent down with the weight of the shaft. The place to strike the bull was just above the hock; when struck the horse instantly wheeled to the left, to avoid the charge of the wounded ox, who soon broke his nearly severed leg, but still limped forward to avenge himself on his formidable enemy. Then the hockser, riding softly up, struck him with his iron again, but this time into a fore leg, and at once laid him prostrate, moaning in terror and in pain. Then, dismounting, the Spaniard took a sharp dagger and stabbed the beast behind the horns, severing the spinal marrow. This operation the English called "polling." The hunter at once remounted, and left his skinners to remove the hide. The stately Spaniard delighted in this dangerous chase, with all its stratagems, surprises, and hair-breadth escapes, when life depended on a turn of the bridle or the prick of a spur. However pressed for food or endangered by enemies, he practised it with all the stately ceremonies of the Madrid arena. The fiery animal, streaming with blood and foam, bellowing with rage and pain, frequently trampled and gored the dogs and slew both horse and rider. Oexmelin mentions a bull at Cuba which killed three horses in the same day, the lucky rider making a solemn pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady of Guadaloupe when he had given his victim the _coup de grace_. These Spanish hunters did not rough it like the Buccaneers, and kept horses to carry their bales. They were particular in their food, and ate bread and cassava with their beef; drank wine and brandy; and were very choice in their fruit and preserves. Gay in their dress, they prided themselves on their white linen. Every separate hunting field had its own customs. At Campeachy, where the ground was swampy, the logwood-cutters frequently shot the oxen from a canoe, and were sometimes pursued by a wounded beast, who would try to sink the boat. When the woodmen killed a bull, they cut it into quarters, and, taking out all the bones, cut a hole in the centre of each piece large enough to pass their heads through, and trudged home with it to their tents on the shore. If they grew tired or were pursued, they cut off a portion of the meat and lightened their load. The Spaniards, less poor, greedy, and thoughtless than the English and French adventurers, killed only the bulls and old cows, and left the younger ones to breed. The French were notorious for their wanton waste, using oxen merely as marks for their bullets, and as utterly indifferent to the future as Autolycus, who "slept out the thought of it." About 1650 the wild cattle of Jamaica were entirely destroyed, and the Governor procured a fresh supply from Cuba. Whenever the oxen grew scarce, they became wilder and more ferocious. In some places no hunter dared to fire at them if alone, nor ever ventured into their pastures unattended. All animals grow shy if frequently pursued, and no fish are so unapproachable as those of a much frequented stream. Dampierre says that at Beef Island the old bulls who had once been wounded, when they saw the hunters or heard their muskets, would instantly form into a square, with their cows in the rear and the calves in the middle, turning as the hunters turned, and presenting their horns like a cluster of bayonets. It then became necessary to beat the woods for stragglers. A beast mortally wounded always made at the hunter; but if only grazed by the bullet it ran away. A cow was thought to be more dangerous than a bull, as the former charged with its eyes open, and the latter with them closed. The danger was often imminent. One of Dampierre's messmates ventured into the savannah, about a mile from the huts, and coming within shot of a bull wounded it desperately. The bull, however, had strength enough to pursue and overtake the logwood-cutter before he could load again, to trample him, and gore him in the thigh. Then, faint with loss of blood, it reeled down dead, and fell heavily beside the bleeding and groaning hunter. His comerade, coming the next morning to seek for the man, found him weak and almost dying, and, taking him on his back, bore him to his hut, where he was soon cured. The rapidity of such cures is peculiar to savages, or men who devote their whole life to muscular exertion; for the flesh of the South Sea Islanders is said to close upon a sword as india-rubber does upon the knife that cuts it. Often, in the heat and excitement of these pursuits, the solitary hunter, and still more often, from want of experience and from youthful rashness, the _engagé_, would lose his way in the woods, or, falling into a forest pool, become a prey of the lurking cayman, if not alarmed by the premonitory odour of musk that indicated its dangerous vicinity. Nature is full of these warnings: and the vibrating rattle of the Indian snake has saved the life of many a Buccaneer. Besides an unceasing supply of beef on shore, and salted turtle at sea, the Buccaneers ate the flesh of deer and of peccavy. On the mainland wild turkeys were always within shot, and fat monkeys and plump parrots were resources for more hungry and less epicurean men. The rich fruits of the West Indies, needing no cultivation to improve their flavour, grew around their huts, and were to be had all the year round for the picking. The parched hunters delighted in the resinous-flavoured mango and the luscious guava as much as our modern sailors. In such a country every one is a vegetarian; for when dinner is over, to be a fruit eater needs no hermit-like asceticism. The plantain and the yam served them instead of the bread-fruit of the Pacific, or the potato of Virginia, and the custard-apple took the place of pastry; but the great dainty which all their chroniclers mention was the large avocado pear, which they supposed to be an aphrodisiac. This prodigious lemon-coloured fruit was allowed to mellow, its soft pulp was then scooped out and beaten up in a plate with orange and lime juice; but hungry and more impatient men ate it at once, with a little salt and a roast plantain. A Buccaneer never touched an unknown fruit till he had seen birds pecking it on the tree. No bird was ever seen to touch the blooming but poisonous apples of the manchineel, which few animals but crabs could eat with impunity; as this tree grew by the sea-shore, even fish were rendered poisonous by feeding on the fruit that fell into the water. The verified stories of the manchineel excel the fables related of the upas of Batavia. The very dew upon its branches poisoned those upon whom it dropped. Esquemeling says: "One day, being hugely tormented with mosquitoes or gnats, and being as yet unacquainted with the nature of this tree, I cut a branch to serve me for a fan, but all my face was swelled the next day, and filled with blisters as if it were burnt, to such a degree that I was blind for three days." The hunters tormented by mosquitoes and sand flies used leafy branches for fans, and anointed their faces with hog's grease to defend themselves from the stings. By night in their huts they burned tobacco, without which smoke they could not have obtained sleep. The mosquitoes were of all sorts, the buzzing and the silent, the tormentors by day and night; but they dispersed when the land breeze rose, or whenever the wind increased. The common mosquito was not visible by day, but at sunset filled the woods with its ominous humming. Oexmelin describes on one occasion his lying for eight hours in the water of a brook to escape their stings; sitting on a stone or on the sand, and keeping his face, which was above water, covered with leaves to protect him from the fiery stings. The Buccaneers made their pens of reeds, and their paper of the leaves of a peculiar sort of palm, the outer cuticle of which was thin, white, and soft; their ink was the black juice of the juniper berries, letters written with which turned white in nine days. They kept harmless snakes in their houses to feed on the rats and mice, just as we do cats, or the Copts did the ichneumons. They frequently used a handful of fire-flies instead of a lantern: Esquemeling, himself a Buccaneer, says, that with three of these in his cottage at midnight he could see to read in any book, however small the print. The Buccaneers carried in their tobacco pouches the horn of an immense sort of spider, which Esquemeling describes as big as an egg, with feet as long as a crab, and four black teeth like a rabbit, its bite being sharp but not venomous. These teeth or horns they used either as toothpicks or pipe-cleaners; they were supposed to have the property of preserving the user from toothache. They are described as about two inches long, black as jet, smooth as glass, sharp as a thorn, and a little bent at the lower end. Their favourite toy, the dice, they cut from the white ivory-like teeth of the sea-horse. Great observers of the use of things, and well lessoned in the bitter school of experience, they turned every new natural production they met with to some useful purpose, uniting with the keen sagacity of the hunter the shrewd instinct of the savage. Their horsewhips they formed from the skin of the back of a wild bull or sea-cow. The lashes were made of slips of hide, two or three feet long, of the full thickness at the bottom, and cut square and tapering to the point. These thongs they twisted while still green, and then hung them up in a hut to dry; in a few weeks they shrank and became hard as wood, and tough as an American cowhide, an Abyssinian scourge, or the far-famed Russian knout. From the skin of the manitee they cut straps, which they used in their canoes instead of the ordinary tholes. The wild boar hunters frequently lived in huts four or five together, and remained for months, frequently a year, in the same place, supplying the neighbouring planters by contract. The most perfect equality reigned between the _matelots_; and if one of them wanted powder or lead, he took it from the other's store, telling him of the loan, and repaying it when able. When a dispute arose between any of them, their associates tried to reconcile the difference. A dispute about a shooting wager, or the smallest trifle, might give rise to deadly feuds between such lawless and vindictive exiles, unaccustomed to control, and ready to resort to arms. If both still determined to have revenge, the musket was the impassive arbiter appealed to. The friends of the duellists decided at what distance the combatants should stand, and made them draw lots for the first fire. If one fell dead, the bystanders immediately held a sort of inquest, at which they decided whether he had been fairly dealt with, and examined the body to see that the death-shot had been fairly fired in front, and not in a cowardly or treacherous manner, and handled his musket to see whether it was discharged and had been in good order. A surgeon then opened the orifice of the wound, and if he decided that the bullet had entered behind, or much on one side, they declared the survivor a murderer; Lynch law was proclaimed, they tied the culprit to a tree, and shot him with their muskets. In Tortuga, or near a town, this rude justice was never resorted to, and, even in the wilder places, was soon abandoned as the hunters grew more civilized. These duels generally took place on the sea beach if the Flibustiers were the combatants. As these men took incessant exercise, were indifferent to climate, and fed chiefly on fresh meat, they enjoyed good health. They were, however, subject to flying fevers that passed in a day, and which did not confine them even to their tents. With the Spanish Lanceros, or Fifties as they were called by the Buccaneers, the hunters were perpetually at war, their intrepid infantry being generally successful against the hot charges of these yeomanry of the savannahs. There were four companies of them in Hispaniola, with a hundred spearmen in each company; half of these were generally on the patrol, while the remainder rested, and from their number they derived their nickname. Their duty was to surprise the isolated hunters, to burn the stores of hides, make prisoners of the _engagés_, and guard the Spanish settlers against any sudden attack. At other times they were employed in killing off the herds of wild cattle that furnished the Buccaneers with food, and drew fresh bands to the plains where they abounded. In great enterprises the whole corps cried "boot and saddle," and they took with them at all times a few muleteers on foot, either to carry their baggage, or to serve as scouts in the woods, where the cow-killers built their huts. But, in spite of Negro foragers and Indian spies, the keener-eyed Buccaneers generally escaped, or, if met with, broke like raging wolves through their adversaries' toils. Accustomed to the bush, inured to famine and fatigue, and more indifferent than even the Spaniards to climate, the Buccaneers were seldom taken prisoners. Unerring marksmen, with a spice of the wild beast in their blood, they preferred death to flight or capture. It is probable that even for this toilsome and dangerous pursuit the Spaniards easily obtained recruits. Constant sport with the wild cattle, abundant food, and a spirit of adventure would prove an irresistible bait to the bravos of Carthagena, or the matadors of Campeachy. The hangers-on of the wineshops and the pulque drinkers of Mexico would readily embark in any campaign that would bring them a few pistoles, and give them good food and gay clothing. Oexmelin relates several instances of the daring escapes of the Buccaneer hunters from the blood-thirsting pursuit of the Fifties. It was their custom, directly that news reached the tents that the Lanceros were out, to issue an order that the first man who caught sight of the horsemen should inform the rest, in order to attack the foe by an ambuscade, if they were too numerous to meet in the open field. The great aim, on the other hand, of the Lanceros, was to wait for a night of rain and wind, when the sound of their hoofs could not be heard, and to butcher the sleepers when their fire-arms were either damp or piled out of reach. Frequently they surrounded the hunters when heavy after a debauch, and when even the sentinels were asleep at the tent doors. The following anecdote conveys some impression of these encounters. A French Buccaneer going one day into the savannahs to hunt, followed by his _engagé_, was suddenly surrounded by a troop of shouting Lanceros. He saw at once that the Fifties had at last trapped him. He was surrounded, and escape from their swift pursuit, with no tree near, was hopeless. But he would not let hope desert him so long as the spears were still out of his heart. His _engagé_ was as brave as himself, and both determined to stand at bay and sell their lives dearly. The hunter of mad oxen, and the tamer of wild horses, need not fear man or devil. The master and man put themselves back to back, and, laying their common stock of powder and bullets in their caps between them, prepared for death. The Spaniards, who only carried lances, kept coursing round them, afraid to narrow in, or venture within shot, and crying out to them with threats to surrender. They next offered them quarter, and at last promised to disarm but not hurt them, saying they were only executing the orders of their general. The two Frenchmen replied mockingly, that they would never surrender, and wanted no quarter, and that the first lancer who approached would pay dear for his visit. The Spaniards still hovered round, afraid to advance, none of them willing to be the first victim, or to play the scapegoat for the rest. "C'est le premier pas qui coute," and the first step they made was backward. After some consultation at a safe distance, they finally left the Buccaneers still standing threateningly back to back, and spurred off, half afraid that the Tartars they had nearly caught might turn the tables, and advance against them. The steady persistency of the Buccaneer infantry was generally victorious over the impetuous but transitory onslaught of the Spanish cavalry. Another time a wild Buccaneer while hunting alone was surprised by a similar party of mounted pikemen. Seeing that there was some distance between him and the nearest wood, and that his capture was certain, he bethought himself of the following _ruse_. Putting his gun up to his shoulder he advanced at a trot, shouting exultingly, "_à moi, à moi!_" as if he was followed by a band of scattered companions who had been in search of the Spaniards. The cavaliers, believing at once that they had fallen into an ambush, took flight, to the joy of the ingenious hunter, who quickly made his escape, laughing, into the neighbouring covert. The Spaniards were worn out at last with this border warfare, unprofitable because it was waged with men who were too poor to reward the plunderer, and dangerous because fought with every disadvantage of weapon and situation. In the savannahs the Spaniards were formidable, but in the woods they became a certain prey to the musketeer. Unable to drive the plunderers out of the island, the Spaniards at last foolishly resolved to render the island not worth the plunder. Orders came from Spain to kill off the wild cattle that Columbus had originally brought to the island, and particularly round the coast. If the trade with the French vessels and the barter of hides for brandy could once be arrested, the hunters would be driven from the woods by starvation, or perish one by one in their dens. They little thought that this scheme would succeed, and what would be the consequence of such success. The hunters turned sea crusaders, and the sea became the savannah where they sought their human game. Every creek soon thronged with men more deadly than the Danish Vikinger: wrecked on a habitable shore, they landed as invaders and turned hunters as before; driven to their boats, they became again adventurers. In this name and in that of "soldiers of fortune" they delighted: a more honest and less courteous age would have termed them pirates. By the year 1686, the change from Buccaneer to Flibustier had been almost wholly effected. The Buccaneers' _engagés_ led a life very little better than those white slaves whom the glittering promises of the planters had decoyed from France. The existence of the former was, however, rendered more bearable by their variety of adventure, by better food, and by daily recreation. If all day in the hot sun he had to toil carrying bales of skins from his master's hut towards the shore, we must remember that American seamen still work contentedly at the same labour in California for a sailor's ordinary wages. Mutual danger produced necessarily, except in the most brutal, a kind of fellowship between the master and the servant of the boucan. Up at daybreak, the _engagé_ sweltered all day through the bush, groaning beneath his burden of loathsome hides, but the good meal came before sunset, and then the pipes were lit, and the brandy went round, and the song was sung, and the tale was told, while the hunters shot at a mark, or made wagers upon the respective skill of their _matelots_ or their _engagés_. We hear from Charlevoix, that young prodigals of good family had been known to prefer the canvas tent to the tapestried wall, and to have grasped the hunter's musket with the hand that might have wielded the general's baton or the marshal's staff. The Buccaneer's life was not one of mere revelry and ease; no luxurious caves or safe strongholds served at once for their treasure house, their palace, and their fortress. They were wandering outlaws; hated both by the Spaniards and the Indians, they ate with a loaded gun within their reach. The jaguar lurked beside them, the coppersnake glared at them from his lair. If their foot stumbled, they were gored by the ox or ripped up by the boar; if they fled they became a prey to the cayman of the pool; they were swept away as they forded swollen rivers; they were swallowed up by that dreadful foretype of the Judgment, the earthquake. The shark and the sea monster swam by their canoe, the carrion crow that fed to-day upon the carcase they had left, too often fed to-morrow on the slain hunter. The wildest transitions of safety and danger, plenty and famine, peace and war, health and sickness, surrounded their daily life. To-day on the savannah dark with the wild herds, to-morrow compelled to feast on the flesh of a murdered comerade; to-day surrounded by revelling friends, to-morrow left alone to die. The present system of hide curing practised in California seems almost identical with that employed by the Buccaneers. The following extract from Dana's "Three Years before the Mast" will convey a correct impression of what constituted the greater portion of an _engagé's_ labour. He describes the shore piled with hides, just out of reach of the tide; each skin doubled lengthwise in the middle, and nearly as stiff as a board, and the whole bundles carried down on men's heads from the place of curing to the stacks. "When the hide is taken from the bullock, holes are cut round it, near the edge, and it is staked out to dry, to prevent shrinking. They are then to be cured, and are carried down to the shore at low tide and made fast in small piles, where they lie for forty-eight hours, when they are taken out, rolled up in wheelbarrows, and thrown into vats full of strong brine, where they remain for forty-eight hours. The sea water only cleans and softens them, the brine pickles them. They are then removed from the vats, lie on a platform twenty-four hours, and are then staked out, still wet and soft; the men go over them with knives, cutting off all remaining pieces of meat or fat, the ears, and any part that would either prevent the packing or keeping. A man can clean about twenty-five a-day, keeping at his work. This cleaning must be done before noon, or they get too dry. When the sun has been upon them for a few hours they are gone over with scrapers to remove the fat that the sun brings out; the stakes are then pulled up and the hides carefully doubled, with the hair outside, and left to dry. About the middle of the afternoon, they are turned upon the other side, and at sunset piled up and turned over. The next day they are spread out and opened again, and at night, if fully dry, are thrown up on a long horizontal pole, five at a time, and beaten with flails to get out the dust; thus, being salted, scraped, cleaned, dried, and beaten, they are stowed away in the warehouses." The Buccaneer's life was not spent in quaffing sangaree or basking under orange blossoms--not in smoking beside mountains of flowers, where the humming-birds fluttered like butterflies, and the lizards flashed across the sunbeams, shedding jewelled and enchanted light. No Indian in the mine, no Arab pearl-diver, no worn, pale children at an English factory, no galley-slave dying at the oar, led such a life as a Buccaneer _engagé_ if bound to a cruel master. Imagine a delicate youth, of good but poor family, decoyed from a Norman country town by the loud-sounding promises of a St. Domingo agent, specious as a recruiting sergeant, voluble as the projector of bubble companies, greedy, plausible, and lying. He comes out to the El Dorado of his dreams, and is at once taken to the hut of some rude Buccaneer. The first night is a revel, and his sleep is golden and full of visions. The spell is broken at daybreak. He has to carry a load of skins, weighing some twenty-six pounds, three or four leagues, through brakes of prickly pear and clumps of canes. The pathless way cannot be traversed at greater speed than about two hours to a quarter of a league. The sun grows vertical, and he is feverish and sick at heart. Three years of this purgatory are varied by blows and curses. The masters too often loaded their servants with blows if they dared to faint through weakness, hunger, thirst, or fatigue. Some hunters had the forbearance to rest on a Sunday, induced rather by languor than by piety; but on these days the _engagé_ had to rise as usual at daybreak, to go out and kill a wild boar for the day's feast. This was disembowelled and roasted whole, being placed on a spit supported on two forked stakes, so that the flames might completely surround the carcase. Most Buccaneers, even if they rested on Sunday, required their apprentices to carry the hides down as usual to the place of shipment, fearing that the Spaniards might choose that very day to burn the huts and destroy the skins. An _engagé_ once complained to his master, and reminded him that it was not right to work on a Sunday, God himself having said to the Jews, "Six days shalt thou labour and do all thou hast to do, for the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God." "And I tell you," said the scowling Buccaneer, striking the earth with the butt-end of his gun and roaring out a dreadful curse, "I tell you, six days shalt thou kill bulls and skin them, and the seventh day thou shalt carry them down to the beach," beating the daring remonstrant as he spoke. There was no remedy for these sufferers but patience. Time or death alone brought relief. Three years soon run out. The mind grows hardened under suffering as flesh does under the lash. Nature, where she cannot heal a wound, teaches us where to find unfailing balms. Some grew reckless to blows, or learned to ingratiate themselves with their masters by their increasing daring or sturdy industry. An apprentice whose bullet never flew false, or who could run down the wild ox on the plain, acquired a fame greater than that of his master. They knew that in time they themselves would be Buccaneers, and could inflict the very cruelties from which they now suffered. There were instances where acts of service to the island, or feats of unusual bravery, raised an _engagé_ of a single year to the full rank of hunter. An apprentice who could bring in more hides than even his master, must have been too valuable an acquisition to have been lost by a moment of spleen. That horrible cases of cruelty did occur, there can be no doubt. There were no courts of justice in the forest, no stronger arm or wiser head to which to appeal. But there are always remedies for despair. The loaded gun was at hand, the knife in the belt, and the poison berries grew by the hut. There was the unsubdued passion still at liberty in the heart--there was the will to seize the weapon and the hand to use it. Providence is fruitful in her remedies of evils, and preserves a balance which no sovereignty can long disturb. No tyrant can shut up the volcano, or chain the earthquake. There were always the mountains or the Spaniards to take refuge amongst, though famine and death dwelt in the den of the wild beasts, and, if they fled to the Spaniards, they were often butchered as mere runaway slaves before they could explain, in an unknown language, that they were not spies. But still the very impossibility of preventing such escapes must have tended to temper the severity of the masters. A Flibustier, anxious for a crew, must have sometimes carried off discontented _engagés_ both from the plantations and the ajoupas. The following story illustrates the social relations of the Buccaneer master and his servant. A Buccaneer one day, seeing that his apprentice, newly arrived from France, could not keep up with him, turned round and struck him over the head with the lock of his musket. The youth fell, stunned, to the ground; and the hunter, thinking he was dead, stripped him of his arms, and left his body where it had fallen and weltering in the blood flowing from the wound. On his return to his hut, afraid to disclose the truth, he told his companions that the lad, who had always skulked work, had at last _marooned_ (a Spanish word applied to runaway negroes). A few curses were heaped upon him, and no more was thought about his disappearance. Soon after the master was out of sight the lad had recovered his senses, arisen, pale and weak, and attempted to return to the tents. Unaccustomed to the woods, he lost his way, got off the right track, and finally gave himself up as doomed to certain death. For some days he remained wandering round and round the same spot, without either recovering the path or being able to reach the shore. Hunger did not at first press him, for he ate the meat with which his master had loaded him, and ate it raw, not knowing the Indian manner of procuring fire, and his knives being taken from his belt. Ignorant of what fruits were safe to eat, where animals fit for food were to be found, and not knowing how to kill them unarmed, he prepared his mind for the dreadful and lingering torture of starvation. But he seems to have been of an ingenious and persevering disposition, and hope did not altogether forsake him. He had too a companion, for one of his master's dogs, which had grown fond of his playmate, had remained behind with his body, licking the hand that had so often fed him. At first he spent whole days vainly searching for a path. Very often he climbed up a hill, from which he could see the great, blue, level sea, stretching out boundless to the horizon, and this renewed his hope. He looked up, and knew that God's sky was above him, and felt that he might be still saved. At night he was startled by the screams of the monkeys, the bellowing of the wild cattle in the distant savannah, or the unearthly cry of some solitary and unknown bird. Superstition filled him with fears, and he felt deserted by man, but tormented by the things of evil. The tracks of the wild cattle led him far astray. Long ere this his faithful dog, driven by hunger, had procured food for both. Sometimes beneath the spreading boughs of the river-loving yaco-tree, they would surprise a basking sow, surrounded by a wandering brood of voracious sucklings. The dog would cling to the sow, while the boy aided him in the pursuit of the errant progeny. When they had killed their prey, they would lie down and share their meal together. The boy learned to like the raw meat, and the dog had acquired his appetite long before. Experience soon taught them where to capture their prey in the quickest and surest manner. He caught the puppies of a wild dog, and trained them in the chase; and he even taught a young wild boar that he had caught alive to join in the capture of his own species. After having led this life for nearly a year, he one day suddenly came upon the long-lost path, which soon brought him to the sea-shore. His master's tents were gone, and, from various appearances, seemed to have been long struck. The lad, now grown accustomed to his wild life, resigned himself to his condition, feeling sure that, sooner or later, he should meet with a party of Buccaneers. His deliverance was not long delayed. After about twelve months' life in the bush, he fell in with a troop of skinners, to whom he related his story. They were at first distrustful and alarmed, as his master had told them that he had _marooned_, and had joined the Indians. His appearance soon convinced them that his story was true, and that he was neither a _maroon_ nor a deserter, for he was clothed in the rags of his _engagé's_ shirt and drawers, and had a strip of raw meat hanging from his girdle. Two tame boars and three dogs followed at his heels, and refused to leave him. He at once joined his deliverers, who freed him from all obligations to his master, and gave him arms, powder, and lead to hunt for himself, and he soon became one of the most renowned Buccaneers on that coast. It was a long time before he could eat roasted meat, which not only was distasteful, but made him ill. Long after, when flaying a wild boar, he was frequently unable to restrain himself from eating the flesh raw. When an apprentice had served three years, his master was expected to give him as a reward a musket, a pound of powder, six pounds of lead, two shirts, two pairs of drawers, and a cap. The _valets_, as the French called them, then became comerades, and ceased to be mere _engagés_. They took their own _matelots_, and became, in their turn, Buccaneers. When they had obtained a sufficient quantity of hides, they either sent or took them to Tortuga, and brought from thence a young apprentice to treat him as they themselves had been treated. The planters' _engagés_ led a life more dreadful than that of their wilder brethren. They were decoyed from France under the same pretences that once filled our streets with the peasants' sons of Savoy, and the peasants' daughters from Frankfort, or that now lure children from the pleasant borders of Como, to pine away in a London den. The want of sufficient negroes led men to resort to all artifices to obtain assistance in cultivating the sugar-cane and the tobacco plant. In the French Antilles they were sold for three years, but often resold in the interim. Amongst the English they were bound for seven years, and being occasionally sold again at their own request, before the expiration of this term, they sometimes served fifteen or twenty years before they could obtain their freedom. At Jamaica, if a man could not pay even a small debt at a tavern, he was sold for six or eight months. The planters had agents in France, England, and other countries, who sent out these apprentices. They were worked much harder than the slaves, because their lives, after the expiration of the three years, were of no consequence to the masters. They were often the victims of a disease called "coma," the effect of hard usage and climate, and which ended in idiotcy. Père Labat remarks the quantity of idiots in the West Indies, many of whom were dangerous, although allowed to go at liberty. Many of these worse than slaves were of good birth, tender education, and weak constitutions, unable to endure even the debilitating climate, and much less hard labour. Esquemeling, himself originally an _engagé_, gives a most piteous description of their sufferings. Insufficient food and rest, he says, were the smallest of their sufferings. They were frequently beaten, and often fell dead at their masters' feet. The men thus treated died fast: some became dropsical, and others scorbutic. A man named Bettesea, a merchant of St. Christopher's, was said to have killed more than a hundred apprentices with blows and stripes. "This inhumanity," says Esquemeling, "I have _often seen_ with great grief." The following anecdote of human suffering equals the cruelty of the Virginian slave owner who threw one slave into the vat of boiling molasses, and baked another in an oven:-- "A certain planter (of St. Domingo) exercised such cruelty towards one of his servants as caused him to run away. Having absconded for some days in the woods, he was at last taken, and brought back to the wicked Pharaoh. No sooner had he got him but he commanded him to be tied to a tree; here he gave him so many lashes on his naked back as made his body run with an entire stream of blood; then, to make the smart of his wounds the greater, he anointed him with lemon-juice, mixed with salt and pepper. In this miserable posture he left him tied to the tree for twenty-four hours, which being past, he began his punishment again, lashing him as before, so cruelly, that the miserable creature gave up the ghost, with these dying words, 'I beseech the Almighty God, Creator of heaven and earth, that He permit the wicked spirit to make thee feel as many torments before thy death as thou hast caused me to feel before mine.' "A strange thing, and worthy of astonishment and admiration: scarce three or four days were past, after this horrible fact, when the Almighty Judge, who had heard the cries of that tormented wretch, suffered the evil one suddenly to possess this barbarous and inhuman homicide, so that those cruel hands which had punished to death the innocent servant were the tormentors of his own body, for he beat himself and tore his flesh after a miserable manner, till he lost the very shape of a man, not ceasing to howl and cry without any rest by day or night. Thus he continued raving till he died." It was by the endurance of such sufferings as these that the early Buccaneers were hardened into fanatical monsters like Montbars and Lolonnois. In the early part of his book, Esquemeling gives us his own history. A Dutchman by birth, he arrived at Tortuga in 1680, when the French West India Company, unable to turn the island into a depôt, as they had intended, were selling off their merchandise and their plantations. Esquemeling, as a bound _engagé_ of the company, was sold to the lieutenant-governor of the island, who treated him with great severity, and refused to take less than three hundred pieces of eight for his freedom. Falling sick through vexation and despair, he was sold to a chirurgeon, for seventy pieces of eight, who proved kind to him, and finally gave him his liberty for 100 pieces of eight, to be paid after his first Flibustier trip. Oexmelin was probably sold almost at the same time as Esquemeling, and was bought by the commandant-general. Not allowed to pursue his own profession of a surgeon, he was employed in the most laborious and painful work, transplanting tobacco, or thinning the young plants, grating cassava, or pressing the juice from the banana. Overworked and under fed, associating with slaves, and regarded with hatred and suspicion, he scarcely received money enough to procure either food or clothing; his master refusing, even for the inducement of two crowns a-day, to allow him to practise as physician. A single year of toil at the plantations threw him into dangerous ill health; for weeks sheltered only under an outhouse, he was kept alive by the kindness of a black slave, who brought him daily an egg. Feeble as he was, the great thirst of a tropical fever compelled him often to rise and drag himself to a neighbouring tank, that he might drink, even though to drink were to die. Recovering from this fever, a wolfish hunger was the first sign of convalescence, but to appease this he had neither food, nor money to buy it. In this condition he devoured even unripe oranges, green, hard, and bitter, and resorted to other extremities which he is ashamed to confess. On one occasion as he was descending from the rock fort, where his master lived, into the town, he met a friend, the secretary of the governor, who made him come and dine with him, and gave him a parting present of a bottle of wine; his master, who had seen what had passed, by means of a telescope, from his place of vantage, when he returned, took away the wine, and threw him into a dungeon, accusing him of being a spy and a traitor. This prison was a cellar, hollowed out of the rock, full of filth and very dark. In this he swore Oexmelin should rot in spite of all the governors in the world. Here he was kept for three days, his feet in irons, fed only by a little bread and water that they passed to him through an aperture, without even opening the door. One day, as he lay naked on the stone, and in the dark, he felt a snake twine itself, cold and slimy, round his body, tightening the folds till they grew painful, and then sliding off to its hole. On the fourth day they opened the door and tried to discover if he had told the governor anything of his master's cruelties; they then set him to dig a plot of ground near the Fort. Finding himself left unguarded, he resolved to go and complain to the governor, having first consulted a good old Capuchin, who took compassion on his pale and famished aspect. The governor instantly took pity on the wretched runaway, fed and clothed him, and on his recovery to health placed him with a celebrated surgeon of the place, who paid his value to his master; the governor being unwilling to take him into his own service, for fear he should be accused to the home authorities of taking away slaves from the planters. The _engagés_ were called to their work at daybreak by a shrill whistle (as the negroes are now by the hoarse conch shell); and the foreman, allowing any who liked to smoke, led them to their work. This consisted in felling trees and in picking or lopping tobacco; the driver stood by them as they dug or picked, and struck those who slackened or rested, as a captain would do to his galley slaves. Whether sick or well they were equally obliged to work. They were frequently employed in picking mahot, a sort of bark used to tie up bales. If they died of fatigue they were quietly buried, and there an end. Early in the morning one of the band had to feed the pigs with potato leaves, and prepare his comerades' dinner. They boiled their meat, putting peas and chopped potatoes into the water. The cook worked with the gang, but returned a little sooner to prepare his messmates' dinner, while they were stripping the tobacco stalk. On feast-days and Sundays they had some indulgences. Oexmelin relates an instance of a sick slave being employed to turn a grindstone on which his master was sharpening his axe; being too weak to do it well, the butcher turned round and clove him down between the shoulders. The slave fell down, bleeding profusely, and died within two hours; yet this master was one of a body of planters deemed very indulgent in comparison to those of some other islands. One planter of St. Christopher, named Belle Tête, who came from Dieppe, prided himself on having killed 200 _engagés_ who would not work, all of whom, he declared, died of sheer laziness. When they were in the last extremities he was in the habit of rubbing their mouths with the yolk of an egg, in order that he might conscientiously swear he had pressed them to take food till the very last. Upon a priest one day remonstrating with him on his brutality, he replied, with perfect effrontery, that he had once been a bound _engagé_, and had never been treated better; that he had come all the way to that shore to get money, and provided he could get it and see his children roll in a coach, he did not care himself if the devil carried him off. The following anecdote shows what strange modifications of crime this species of slavery might occasionally produce. There was a rich inhabitant of Guadaloupe, whose father became so poor that he was obliged to sell himself as an _engagé_, and by a singular coincidence sold himself to a merchant who happened to be his son's agent. The poor fellow, finding himself his son's servant, thought himself well off, but soon found that he was treated as brutally as the rest. The son, finding the father was old and discontented, and therefore unable to do much work, and afraid to beat him for the sake of the scandal, sold him soon after to another planter, who treated him better, gave him more to eat, and eventually restored him to liberty. Of the ten thousand Scotch and Irish whom Cromwell sent to the West Indies, many became _engagés_, and finally Buccaneers. Many of the old Puritan soldiers, who had served in the same wars, were enrolled in the same ranks. The same principle of brotherhood applied to the planters as to the ordinary Buccaneers. They called each other _matelots_, and, before living together, signed a contract by which they agreed to share everything in common. Each had the power to dispose of his companion's money and goods, and an agreement signed by one bound the other also. If the one died, the survivor became the inheritor of the whole, in preference even to heirs who might come from Europe to claim the share or attempt to set up a claim. The engagement could be broken up whenever either wished it, and was often cancelled in a moment of petulance or of transitory vexation. A third person was sometimes admitted into the brotherhood on the same conditions. By this singular custom, friendships were formed as firm as those between a Highlander and his foster-brother, a Canadian trapper and his comerade, or an English sailor and his messmate. The _matelotage_, or _compagnon à bon lot_, being thus formed, the two planters would go to the governor of the island and request a grant of land. The officer of the district was then sent to measure out what they required, of a specified size in a specified spot. The usual grant was a plot, two hundred feet wide and thirty feet long, as near as possible to the sea-shore, as being most convenient for the transport of goods, as well as for the ease of procuring salt water, which they used in preparing the tobacco leaf. When the sea-shore was covered with cabins the planters built their huts higher up and four deep, those nearest to the beach being obliged to allow a roadway to those who were the furthest back. Their lodges, or _ajoupas_, were raised upon ground cleared from wood, the thicket being first burnt with the lower branches of the larger trees. The trunks, too large to remove, were cut down to within two or three feet of the earth, and allowed to dry and rot for several summers, and finally also consumed by fire. The savages, on the other hand, cut down all the trees, let them dry as they fell, and then, setting the whole alight, reduced it at once to ashes, without any clearing, lopping, or piling. When about thirty or forty feet of ground was thus cleared, they began to plant vegetables and cultivate the ground--peas, potatoes, manioc, banana, and figs being the daily necessaries of their lives. The banana they planted near rivers, no planter residing in a place where there was not some well or spring. Their _casa_, or chief lodge, was supported by posts fifteen or sixteen feet high, thatched with palm branches, rushes, or sugar-canes, and walled either with reeds or palisades. Inside, they had _barbecues_, or forms rising two or three feet from the ground, upon which lay their mattresses stuffed with banana leaves, and above it the mosquito net of thin white linen, which they called a _pavillon_. A smaller lodge served for cooking or for warehousing. Friends and neighbours always assisted in building these cabins, and were treated in return with brandy by the planter. The laws of the society obliged the settlers to help each other, and this kindness was never refused. The same system of mutual support originated the Scotch penny weddings and the English friendly custom of ploughing a young farmer's fields. Now the _ajoupa_ was built, the tobacco ground had to be dug. An enclosure of two thousand plants required much care, and was obliged to be kept clean and free from weeds. They had to be lopped, and transplanted, and irrigated, and finally picked and stored. The people of Tortuga, the Buccaneers' island, exchanged their tobacco with the French merchants for hatchets, hoes, knives, sacking, and above all for wine and brandy. From potatoes, which the planters ate for breakfast, they extracted maize, a sour but pleasant beverage. The cassava root they grated for cakes, making a liquor called _veycon_ of the residue. From the banana they also extracted an intoxicating drink. With the wild boar hunters they exchanged tobacco leaf for dried meat, often paying away at one time two or three hundred weight of tobacco, and frequently sending a servant of their own to the savannahs to help the hunter and to supply him with powder and shot. CHAPTER III. THE FLIBUSTIERS, OR SEA ROVERS. Originated in the Spanish persecution of French Hunters--Customs--Pay and Pensions--The Mosquito Indians, their Habits--Food--Lewis Scott, an Englishman, first Corsair--John Davis: takes St. Francisco, in Campeachy--Debauchery--Love of Gaming--Religion--Class from which they sprang--Equality at Sea--Mode of Fighting--Dress. The Flibustiers first began by associating together in bands of from fifteen to twenty men. Each of them carried the Buccaneer musket, holding a ball of sixteen to the pound, and had generally pistols at his belt, holding bullets of twenty or twenty-four to the pound, and besides this they wore a good sabre or cutlass. When collected at some preconcerted rendezvous, generally a key or small island off Cuba, they elected a captain, and embarked in a canoe, hollowed out of the trunk of a single tree in the Indian manner. This canoe was either bought by the association or the captain. If the latter, they agreed to give him the first ship they should take. As soon as they had all signed the charter-party, or mutual agreement, they started for the destined port off which they were to cruise. The first Spanish vessel they took served to repay the captain and recompense themselves. They dressed themselves in the rich robes of Castilian grandees over their own blooded shirts, and sat down to revel in the gilded saloon of the galleon. If they found their prize not seaworthy, they would take her to some small sand island and careen, while the crew helped the Indians to turn turtle, and to procure bull's flesh. The Spanish crew they kept to assist in careening, for they never worked themselves, but fought and hunted while the unfortunate prisoners were toiling round the fire where the pitch boiled, or the turtle was stewing. The Flibustiers divided the spoil as soon as each one had taken an oath that nothing had been secreted. When the ship was ready for sea, they let the Spaniards go, and kept only the slaves. If there were no negroes or Indians, they retained a few Spaniards to wait upon them. If the prisoners were men of consequence, they detained them till they could obtain a ransom. Every Flibustier brought a certain supply of powder and ball for the common stock. Before starting on an expedition it was a common thing to plunder a Spanish hog-yard, where a thousand swine were often collected, surrounding the keeper's lodge at night, and shooting him if he made any resistance. The tortoise fishermen were often forced to fish for them gratuitously, although nearly every ship had its Mosquito Indian to strike turtle and sea-cow, and to fish for the whole boat's crew. "No prey, no pay," was the Buccaneers' motto. The charter-party specified the salary of the captain, surgeon, and carpenter, and allowed 200 pieces of eight for victualling. The boys had but half a share, although it was either their duty or the surgeon's, when the rest had boarded, to remain behind to fire the former vessel, and then retire to the prize. The Buccaneer code, worthy of Napoleon or Justinian, was equal to the statutes of any land, insomuch as it answered the want of those for whom it was compiled, and seldom required either revision or enlargement. It was never appealed from, and was seldom found to be unjust or severe. The captain was allowed five or six shares, the master's mate only two, and the other officers in proportion, down to the lowest mariner. All acts of special bravery or merit were rewarded by special grants. The man who first caught sight of a prize received a hundred crowns. The sailor who struck down the enemy's captain, and the first boarder who reached the enemy's deck, were also distinguished by honours. The surgeon, always a great man among a crew whose lives so often depended on his skill, received 200 crowns to supply his medicine chest. If they took a prize, he had a share like the rest. If they had no money to give him, he was rewarded with two slaves. The loss of an eye was recompensed at 100 crowns, or one slave. The loss of both eyes with 600 crowns, or six slaves. The loss of a right hand or right leg at 200 crowns, or two slaves. The loss of both hands or legs at 600 crowns, or six slaves. The loss of a finger or toe at 100 crowns, or one slave. The loss of a foot or leg at 200 crowns, or two slaves. The loss of both legs at 600 crowns, or six slaves. Nothing but death seems to have been considered as worth recompensing with more than 600 crowns. For any wound, which compelled a sailor to carry a _canulus_, 200 crowns were given, or two slaves. If a man had not even lost a member, but was for the present deprived of the use of it, he was still entitled to his compensation as much as if he had lost it altogether. The maimed were allowed to take either money or slaves. The charter-party drawn up by Sir Henry Morgan before his famous expedition, which ended in the plunder and destruction of Panama, shows several modifications of the earlier contract. To him who struck the enemy's flag, and planted the Buccaneers', fifty piastres, besides his share. To him who took a prisoner who brought tidings, 100 piastres, besides his share. For every grenade thrown into an enemy's port-hole, five piastres. To him who took an officer of rank at the risk of his life, proportionate reward. To him who lost two legs, 500 crowns, or fifteen slaves. To him who lost two arms, 800 piastres, or eighteen slaves. To him who lost one leg or one arm, 500 piastres, or six slaves. To him who lost an eye, 100 piastres, or one slave. For both eyes, 200 piastres, or two slaves. For the loss of a finger, 100 piastres, or one slave. A Flibustier who had a limb crippled, received the same pay as if it was lost. A wound requiring an issue, was recompensed with 500 piastres, or five slaves. These shares were all allotted before the general division. If a vessel was taken at sea, its cargo was divided among the whole fleet, but the crew first boarding it received 100 crowns, if its value exceeded 10,000 crowns, and for every 10,000 crowns' worth of cargo, 100 went to the men that boarded. The surgeon received 200 piastres, besides his share. The Mosquito Indians were the helots of the Buccaneers; they employed them to catch fish, and their vessels had generally a small canoe, kept for their use, in which they might strike tortoise or manitee. These Indians used no oars, but a pair of broad-bladed paddles, which they held perpendicularly, grasping the staff with both hands and putting back the water by sheer strength, and with very quick, short strokes. Two men generally went in the same boat, the one sitting in the stern, the other kneeling down in the head. They both paddled softly till they approached the spot where their prey lay; they then remained still, looking very warily about them, and the one at the head then rose up, with his striking-staff in his hand. This weapon was about eight feet long, almost as thick as a man's arm at the larger end, at which there was a hole into which the harpoon was put; at the other extremity was placed a piece of light (bob) wood, with a hole in it, through which the small end of the staff came. On this bob wood a line of ten or twelve fathoms was neatly wound--the end of the one line being fastened to the wood, and the other to the harpoon, the man keeping about a fathom of it loose in his hand. When he struck, the harpoon came off the shaft, and, as the wounded fish swam away, the line ran off from the reel. Although the bob and line were frequently dragged deep under water, and often caught round coral branches or sunk wreck, it generally rose to the surface of the water. The Indians struggled to recover the bob, which they were accustomed to do in about a quarter of an hour. When the sea-cow grew tired and began to lie still, they drew in the line, and the monster, feeling the harpoon a second time, would often make a maddened rush at the canoe. It then became necessary that the steersman should be nimble in turning the head of the canoe the way his companion pointed, as he alone was able to see and feel the way the manitee was swimming. Directly the fish grew tired, they hauled in the line, which the vexed creature drew out again a dozen times with ferocious but impotent speed. When its strength grew quite exhausted, they would drag it up the side of their boat and knock it on the head, or, pulling it to the shore, made it fast while they went out to strike another. From the great size of a sea-cow it was always necessary to go to shore in order to get it safely into their boats; hauling it up in shoal water, they upset their canoes, and then rolling the fish in righted again with the weight. The Indians sometimes paddled one home, and towed the other after them. Dampierre says he knew two Indians, who every day for a week brought two manitee on board his ship, the least not weighing less than six hundred pounds, and yet in so small a canoe that three Englishmen could row it. If the fishermen struck a sea-cow that had a calf they generally captured both--the mother carrying the young under her side fins, and always regarding their safety before her own; the young, moreover, would seldom desert their mother, and would follow the canoe in spite of noise and blows. The least sound startled the manitee, but the turtles required less care. These fish had certain islands near Cuba which they chose to lay their eggs in. At certain seasons they came from the gulf of Honduras in such vast multitudes, that ships, which had lost their latitude, very often steered at night, following the sound of these clattering shoals. When they had been about a month in the Caribbean sea they grew fat, and the fishing commenced. Salt turtle was the Buccaneers' healthiest food, and was supposed to free them from all the ailments of debauchery. The Indians struck the turtle with a short, sharp, triangular-headed iron, not more than an inch long, which fitted into a spear handle. The lance head was loose and had the usual line attached. Their lines they made of the fibrous bark of a tree, which they also used for their rigging. The manitee, or sea-cow, was a favourite article of food with these wandering seamen. It was a monster as big as a horse, and as unwieldy as a walrus, with eyes not much larger than peas, and a head like a cow. Its flesh was white, sweet, and wholesome. The tail of a young fish was a dainty, and a young sucking-calf, roasted, was an epicure's morsel. The head and tail of older animals were tough, yet the belly was frequently eaten. Dampierre speaks of his companions feasting on pork and peas, and beef and dough-boys, and this nautical coarseness was generally found associated with occasional tropical luxuriousness. In cases of necessity, wrecked sailors fed on sharks, which they first boiled and then squeezed dry, and stewed with pepper and vinegar. The oil of turtle they used instead of butter for their dumplings. The best turtle were said to be those that fed on land; those that lived on sea-weed, and not on grass, being yellow and rank. The larger fish needed two men to turn them on their backs. The Flibustiers also ate the iguanas, or large South American lizards. Vast flocks of doves were found in many of the islands, sometimes in such abundance that a sailor could knock down five or six dozen of an afternoon. The Buccaneers' history is a singular example of how evil generates evil. The Spaniards destroyed the wild cattle, and the hunters turned freebooters. Spain discontinued trading to prevent piracy, and the adventurers, starved for want of gold, made descents upon the mainland. The evil grew by degrees till the worm they had at first trod upon arose in their path an indestructible and devastating monster of a hundred heads. First single ships, then fleets, were swept off by these locusts of the deep; first, islands were burnt, then villages sacked, and at last cities conquered. First the North and then the South Pacific were visited, till the whole coast from Panama to Cape Horn trembled at the very flutter of their flag. The first Flibustier, Lewis Scott, scared Campeachy with a few canoes. Grognet grappled the Lima fleet with a whole squadron of pirate craft. The Buccaneer spirit arose from revenge, and ended in robbery and murder. At first fierce but merciful, they grew rapacious, loathsome, and bloody. Their early chivalry forsook them--they sank into the enemies of God and all mankind, and the last refuse of them expired on the gallows of Jamaica, children of Cain, unpitied by any, their very courage despised, and their crimes detested. At their culminating point, united under the sway of one great mind, they might have formed a large empire in South America, or conquered it as tributaries to France or England. Always thirsty for gold, they were often chivalrous, generous, intrepid, merciful, and disinterested. A greater evil soon cured the lesser. The Spaniards, dreading robbery worse than death, ceased in a great measure to trade. The poorer merchants were ruined by the loss of a single cocoa vessel; the richer waited for the convoy of the plate fleets, or followed in the wake of the galleon, hoping to escape if she was captured, as the chickens do when the hen goes cackling up in the claws of the kite. For every four vessels that once sailed not more than one could be now seen. What with the war of France on Holland, and England on France, and all on Spain, there was little safety for the poor trader. Yet those who could risk a loss still made great profits. This cessation of trade was a poor remedy against the sea robber: it was to rob oneself instead of being robbed, to commit suicide for fear of murder. It was a remedy that saved life, but rendered life hateful. The Buccaneers, starving for want of prey, remained moodily in the rocky fastnesses of Tortuga, like famished eagles looking down on a country they have devastated. To accomplish greater feats they united in bodies, and made forays on the coast. They had before remained at the threshold--they now rushed headlong into the sanctuary, and they got _their_ bread, or rather other people's bread, by daring dashes and surprises of towns, leaving them only when wrapped in flames or swept by the pestilence that always followed in their train. We may claim for our own nation the first pioneer in this new field of enterprise. Lewis Scott, an Englishman, led the way by sacking the town of St. Francisco, in Campeachy, and, compelling the inhabitants to pay a ransom, returned safely to Jamaica. Where the carcase is there will the eagles be gathered together, for no sooner had his sails grown small in the distance than Mansweld, another Buccaneer, made several successful descents upon the same luckless coast, unfortunate in its very fertility. He then equipped a fleet and attempted to return by the kingdom of New Granada to the South Sea, passing the town of Carthagena. This scheme failed in consequence of a dispute arising between the French and English crews, who were always quarrelling over their respective share of provisions; but in spite of this he took the island of St. Catherine, and attempted to found a Buccaneer state. John Davis, a Dutchman, excelled both his predecessors in daring. Cruising about Jamaica he became a scourge to all the Spanish mariners who ventured near the coasts of the Caraccas, or his favourite haunts, Carthagena and the Boca del Toro, where he lay wait for vessels bound to Nicaragua. One day he missed his shot, and having a long time traversed the sea and taken nothing--a failure which generally drove these brave men to some desperate expedient to repair their sinking fortunes--he resolved with ninety men to visit the lagoon of Nicaragua, and sack the town of Granada. An Indian from the shores of the lagoon promised to guide him safely and secretly; and his crew, with one voice, declared themselves ready to follow him wherever he led. By night he rowed thirty leagues up the river, to the entry of the lake, and concealed his ships under the boughs of the trees that grew upon the banks; then putting eighty men in his three canoes he rowed on to the town, leaving ten sailors to guard the vessels. By day they hid under the trees; at night they pushed on towards the unsuspecting town, and reached it on the third midnight--taking it, as he had expected, without a blow and by surprise. To a sentinel's challenge they replied that they were fishermen returning home, and two of the crew, leaping on shore, ran their swords through the interrogator, to stop further questions which might have been less easily answered. Following their guide they reached a small covered way that led to the right of the town, while another Indian towed their canoes to a point to which they had agreed each man should bring his booty. As soon as they arrived at the town they separated into small bands, and were led one by one to the houses of the richest inhabitants. Here they quietly knocked, and, being admitted as friends, seized the inmates by the throat and compelled them, on pain of death, to surrender all the money and jewels that they had. They then roused the sacristans of the principal churches, from whom they took the keys and carried off all the altar plate that could be beaten up or rendered portable. The pixes they stripped of their gems, gouged out the jewelled eyes of virgin idols, and hammered up the sacramental cups into convenient lumps of metal. This quiet and undisturbed pillage had lasted for two hours without a struggle, when some servants, escaping from the adventurers, began to ring the alarm bells to warn the town, while a few of the already plundered citizens, breaking into the marketplace, filled the streets with uproar and affright. Davis, seeing that the inhabitants were beginning to rally from that panic which had alone secured his victory, commenced a retreat, as the enemy were now gathering in armed and threatening numbers. In a hollow square, with their booty in the centre, the Buccaneers fought their way to their boats, amid tumultuous war-cries and shouts of derision and exultation. In spite of their haste, they were prudent enough to carry with them some rich Spaniards, intending to exchange them for any of their own men they might lose in their retreat. On regaining their ships they compelled these prisoners to send them as a ransom 500 cows, with which they revictualled their ships for the passage back to Jamaica. They had scarcely well weighed anchor before they saw 600 mounted Spaniards dash down to the shore in the hopes of arresting their retreat. A few broadsides were the parting greetings of these unwelcome visitors. This expedition was accomplished in eight days. The booty consisted of coined money and bullion amounting to about 40,000 crowns. Esquemeling computes it at 4,000 pieces of eight, and in ready money, plate, and jewels to about 50,000 pieces of eight more. Thus concluded this adventurous raid, in which a town forty leagues inland, and containing at least 800 well-armed defenders, was stormed and robbed by eighty resolute sailors. Davis reached Jamaica in safety with his plunder, which was soon put into wider circulation by the aid of the dice, the tavern keepers, and the courtesans. The money once expended, Davis was roused to fresh exertion. He associated himself with two or three other captains, who, superstitiously relying on his good fortune, chose him as admiral of a small flotilla of eight or nine armed gunboats. The less fortunate rewarded him with boundless confidence. His first excursion was to the town of St. Christopher, in Cuba, to wait for the fleet from New Spain, in hopes to cut off some rich unwieldy straggler. But the fleet contrived to escape his sentinels and pass untouched. Davis then sallied forth and sacked a small town named St. Augustine of Florida, in spite of its castle and garrison of 100 men. He suffered little loss; but the inhabitants proved very poor, and the booty was small. In making war against Spain, the hunters were mere privateersmen cruising against a national enemy; but in their endurance, patience, and energy, they stood alone. In their onset--rushing, singing, and dancing through fire and flame--they resembled rather the old Barsekars or the first levies of Mohammed. But in one point they were very remarkable; that they did more, and were yet actuated by a lower motive. Almost devoid of religion, they fought with all the madness of fanaticism against a people themselves constitutionally fanatic, but already enervated by climate, by sudden wealth, and a long experience of contaminating luxury. The galleons of Manilla were their final aim, as they gradually passed from the devastated shores of South America to the Philippine Islands and the coasts of Guinea. They had been the instrument of Providence, and knew themselves so, to avenge the wrongs of the Indian upon the Spaniard; they were soon to become the first avengers of the Negro. Long years of plunder had made the Spaniard and the Creole as secretive as the Hindu. At the first intelligence of some terrified fisherman, the frightened townsman threw his pistoles into wells, or mortared them up in the wall of his fortresses. Laden mules were driven into the interior; the women fled to the nearest plantation; the old men barred themselves up in the church. Their first thought was always flight; their second, to turn and strike a blow for all they loved, valued, and revered. The debauchery of the Buccaneers was as unequalled as their courage. Oexmelin relates a story of an Englishman who gave 500 crowns to his mistress at a single revel. This man, who had earned 1,500 crowns by exposing himself to desperate dangers, was, within three months, sold for a term of three years to a planter, to discharge a tavern debt which he could not pay. A conqueror of Panama might be seen to-morrow driven by the overseer's whip among a gang of slaves, cutting sugar canes, or picking tobacco. Another Buccaneer, a Frenchman, surnamed Vent-en-Panne, was so addicted to play that he lost everything but his shirt. Every pistole that he could earn he spent in this absorbing vice--so tempting to men, who longed for excitement, were indifferent to money, and daily risked their lives for the prospect of gain. On one occasion he lost 500 crowns, his whole share of some recent prize-money, besides 300 crowns which he had borrowed of a comerade who would now lend him no more. Determined to try his fortune again, he hired himself as servant at the very gambling-house where he had been ruined, and, by lighting pipes for the players and bringing them in wine, earned fifty crowns in two days. He staked this, and soon won 12,000 crowns. He then paid his debts and resolved to lose no more, shipping himself on board an English vessel that touched at Barbadoes. At Barbadoes he met a rich Jew who offered to play him. Unable to abstain, he sat down, and won 1,300 crowns and 100,000 lbs. of sugar already shipped for England, and, in addition to this, a large mill and sixty slaves. The Jew, begging him to stay and give him his revenge, ran and borrowed some money, and returned and took up the cards. The Buccaneer consented, more from love of play than generosity; and the Jew, putting down 1,500 jacobuses, won back 100 crowns, and finally all his antagonist's previous winnings--stripping him even to the very clothes he wore. The delighted winner allowed him for very shame to retain his clothes, and gave him money enough to return, disconsolate and beggared, to Tortuga. Becoming again a Buccaneer, he gained 6,000 or 7,000 crowns. M. D'Ogeron, the governor, treating him as a wayward child, taking away his money, sent him back to France with bills of exchange for the amount. Vent-en-Panne, now cured of his vice, took to merchandise; but, always unfortunate, was killed in his first voyage to the West Indies, his vessel being attacked by two Ostende frigates, of twenty-four or thirty guns each, which were eventually, however, driven off by the dead man's crew of only thirty Buccaneers. When the pleasures of Tortuga or Jamaica had swallowed up all the hard-earned winnings of these men, they returned to sea, expending their last pistoles in powder and ball, and leaving heavy scores still unsettled with the cabaretiers. They then hastened to the quays, or small sandy islands off Cuba, to careen their vessels and to salt turtle. Sometimes they repaired to Honduras, where they had Indian wives; latterly, to the Galapagos isles, to the Boca del Toro, or the coast of Castilla del Oro. Some Buccaneers, Esquemeling says, would spend 3,000 piastres in a night, not leaving themselves even a shirt in the morning. "My own master," he adds, "would buy a whole pipe of wine, and, placing it in the street, would force every one that passed by to drink with him, threatening also to pistol them in case they would not do it. At other times he would do the same with barrels of ale or beer; and very often with both his hands he would throw these liquors about the street, and wet the clothes of such as walked by, without regard whether he spoiled their apparel or not, or whether they were men or women." Port Royal was a favourite scene for such carousals. Even as late as 1694, Montauban gives us some idea of the wild debaucheries committed by the Buccaneers even at Bourdeaux. "My freebooters," he says, "who had not seen France for a long time, finding themselves now in a great city where pleasure and plenty reigned, were not backward to refresh themselves after the fatigues they had endured while so long absent from their native country. They spent a world of money here, and proved horribly extravagant. The merchants and their hosts made no scruple to advance them money, or lend them as much as they pleased, upon the reputation of their wealth and the noise there was throughout the city of the valuable prizes whereof they had a share. All the nights they spent in such divertisements as pleased them best; and the days, in running up and down the town in masquerade, causing themselves to be carried in chairs with lighted flambeaux at noon--of which debauches some died, while four of my crew fairly deserted me." This, it must be remembered, was at a time when buccaneering had sunk into privateering--the half-way house to mere piracy. The distinguishing mark of the true Buccaneer was, that he attacked none but Spaniards. Of the Buccaneers' estimation of religion, Charlevoix gives us some curious accounts. He says, "there remained no traces of it in their heart, but still, sometimes, from time to time, they appeared to meditate deeply. They never commenced a combat without first embracing each other, in sign of reconciliation. They would at such times strike themselves rudely on the breast, as if they wished to rouse some compunction in their hearts, and were not able. Once escaped from danger, they returned headlong to their debauchery, blasphemy, and brigandage. The Buccaneers, looking upon themselves as worthy fellows, regarded the Flibustiers as wretches, but in reality there was not much difference. The Buccaneers were, perhaps, the less vicious, but the Flibustiers preserved a little more of the externals of religion; _with the exception of a certain honour among them, and their abstinence from human flesh, few savages were more wicked, and a great number of them much less so_." This passage shows a very curious jealousy between the hunters and the corsairs, and a singular distinction as to religious feeling. Père Labat, however, speaks of the Flibustiers as attending confession immediately after a sea-fight with most exemplary devotion. A more important distinction than that made by Charlevoix was that between the Protestant and Roman Catholic adventurers, the latter being as superstitious as the former were irreverent. Ravenau de Lussan always speaks with horror of the blasphemy and irreligion of his English comerades, one of whom was an old trooper of Cromwell's; and Grognet's fleet eventually separated from the English ships, on account of the latter crews lopping crucifixes with their sabres, and firing at images with their pistols. A Flibustier captain, named Daniel, shot one of his men in a Spanish church for behaving irreverently at mass; and Ringrose gives an instance of an English commander who threw the dice overboard, if he found his men gambling on a Sunday. We find Ravenau de Lussan's troop singing a _Te Deum_ after victories, and Oexmelin tells us that prayers were said daily on board Flibustier ships. It is difficult to say from what class of life either the Buccaneers or the Flibustiers sprang. The planters often became hunters, and the hunters sailors, and the reverse. Morgan was a Welsh farmer's son, who ran away to sea; Montauban, the son of a Gascon gentleman; D'Ogeron had been a captain in the French marines; Von Horn, a common sailor in an Ostende smack; Dampierre was a Somersetshire yeoman, and Esquemeling a Dutch planter's apprentice. Charlevoix says, "few could bear for many years a life so hard and laborious, and the greater part only continued in it till they could gain enough to become planters. Many, continually wasting their money, never earned sufficient to buy a plantation; others grew so accustomed to the life, and so fond even of its hardships and painful risks, that, though often heirs to good fortunes, they would not leave it to return to France." The life of M. D'Ogeron, the governor of Tortuga, is an example of another class of Buccaneers, and of the causes which led to the choice of such a profession. At fifteen, he was captain of a regiment of marines, and in 1656, joining a company intending to colonize the Matingo river, he embarked in a ship, fitted out at the expense of 17,000 livres. Disappointed in this bubble, he tried to settle at Martinique, but deceived by the governor, who withdrew a grant of land, he determined to settle with the Buccaneers of St. Domingo. Embarking in a ricketty vessel, he ran ashore on Hispaniola, and lost all his merchandise and provisions. Giving his _engagés_ their liberty, he joined the hunters, and became distinguished as well for courage as virtue. His goods sent from France were sold at a loss, and he returned to his native country a poor man. Collecting his remaining money, he hired _engagés_, and loaded a vessel with wine and brandy. Finding the market glutted, he sold his cargo at a loss, and was cheated by his Jamaica agent. Returning again to France, he fitted out a third vessel, and finally settled as a planter in Hispaniola. At this juncture the French West India Company fixed their eyes upon him, and in 1665 made him governor of their colony. Ravenau de Lussan illustrates the motives that sometimes led the youth of the higher classes to turn Buccaneers. He commences his book with true French vanity, by saying, that few children of Paris, which contains so many of the wonders of the world (ten out of the eight, we suppose), seek their fortune abroad. From a child he was seized with a passionate disposition for travel, and would steal out of his father's house and play truant when he was yet scarce seven. He soon reached La Vilette and the suburbs, and by degrees learnt to lose sight of Paris. With this passion arose a desire for a military life. The noise of a drum in the street transported him with joy. He made a friend of an officer, and, offering him his sword, joined his company, and witnessed the siege of Condé, ending his campaign, still unwearied of his new form of life. He then became a cadet in a marine regiment. The captain drained him of all his money, and his father, at a great expense, bought him his discharge. Under the Count D'Avegeau he entered the French Guards, and fought at the siege of St. Guislain. Growing, on his return, weary of Paris, he embarked again on sea, having nothing but voyages in his head; the longest and most dangerous appearing to his imagination, he says, the most delightful. Travelling by land seemed to him long and difficult, and he once more chose the sea, deeming it only fit for a woman to remain at home ignorant of the world. His affectionate parents tried in vain to reason him out of this gadding humour, and finding him only grow firmer and more inflexible, they desisted. Not caring whither he went, so he could get to sea, he embarked in 1697 from Dieppe for St. Domingo. Here he remained for five months _engagé_ to a French planter, "more a Turk than a Frenchman." "But what misery," he says, "soever I have undergone with him, I freely forgive him, being resolved to forget his name, which I shall not mention in this place, because the laws of Christianity require that at my hand, though as to matters of charity he is not to expect much of that in me, since he, on his part, has been every way defective in the exercise thereof upon my account." But his patience at last worn out, and weary of cruelties that seemed endless, De Lussan applied to M. de Franquesnay, the king's lieutenant, who himself gave him shelter in his house for six months. He was now in debt, and thinking it "honest to pay his creditors," he joined the freebooters in order to satisfy them, not willing to apply again for money to his parents. "These borrowings from the Spaniards," he says, "have this advantage attending them, that there is no obligation to repay them," and there was war between the two crowns, so that he was a legal privateersman. Selecting a leader, De Lussan pitched on De Graff, as a brave corsair, who happened to be then at St. Domingo, eager to sail. Furnishing himself with arms, at the expense of Franquesnay, he joined De Graff. "We were," he says, "in a few hours satisfied with each other, and became such friends as those are wont to be who are about to run the same risk of fortune, and apparently to die together." The 22nd of November, the day he sailed from Petit Guave, seemed the happiest of his life. Dampierre mentions an old Buccaneer, who was slain at the taking of Leon. "He was," he says, "a stout, grey-headed old man, aged about eighty-four, who had served under Oliver Cromwell in the Irish rebellion; after which he was at Jamaica, and had followed privateering ever since. He would not accept the offer our men made him to tarry ashore, but said he would venture as far as the best of them; but when surrounded by the Spaniards he refused "to take quarter, but discharged his gun amongst them, keeping a pistol still charged; so they shot him dead at a distance. His name was Swan (_rara avis_). He was a very merry, hearty old man, and always used to declare he would never take quarter." When the adventurers were at sea, they lived together as a friendly brotherhood. Every morning at ten o'clock the ship's cook put the kettle on the fire to boil the salt beef for the crew, in fresh water if they had plenty, but if they ran short in brine; meal was boiled at the same time, and made into a thick porridge, which was mixed with the gravy and the fat of the meat. The whole was then served to the crew on large platters, seven men to a plate. If the captain or cook helped themselves to a larger share than their messmates, any of the republican crew had a right to change plates with them. But, notwithstanding this brotherly equality, and in spite of the captain being deposable by his crew, there was maintained at all moments of necessity the strictest discipline, and the most rigid subordination of rank. The crews had two meals a day. They always said grace before meat: the French Catholics singing the canticles of Zecharias, the Magnificat, or the Miserere; the English reading a chapter from the New Testament, or singing a psalm. Directly a vessel hove in sight, the Flibustiers gave chase. If it showed a Spanish flag, the guns were run out, and the decks cleared; the pikes lashed ready, and every man prepared his musket and powder, of which he alone was the guardian (and not the gunner), these articles being generally paid for from the common stock, unless provided by the captain. They first fell on their knees at their quarters (each group round its gun), to pray God that they might obtain both victory and plunder. Then all lay down flat on the deck, except the few left to steer and navigate--proceeding to board as soon as their musketeers had silenced the enemy's fire. If victorious, they put their prisoners on shore, attended to the wounded, and took stock of the booty. A third part of the crew went on board the prize, and a prize captain was chosen by lot. No excuse was allowed; and if illness prevented the man elected taking the office, his _matelot_, or companion, took his place. On arriving at Tortuga, they paid a commission to the governor, and before dividing the spoil, rewarded the captain, the surgeons, and the wounded. The whole crew then threw into a common heap all they possessed above the value of five sous, and took an oath on the New Testament, holding up their right hands, that they had kept nothing back. Any one detected in perjury was marooned, and his share either given to the rest, to the heirs of the dead, or as a bequest to some chapel. The jewels and merchandise were sold, and they divided the produce. "It was impossible," says Oexmelin, "to put any obstacle in the way of men who, animated simply by the hope of gain, were capable of such great enterprises, having _nothing but life_ to lose and all to win. It is true that they would not have persisted long in their expeditions if they had had neither boats nor provisions. For ships they never wanted, because they were in the habit of going out in small canoes and capturing the largest and best provisioned vessels. For harbours they could never want, because everybody fled before them, and they had but to appear to be victorious." This intelligent and animated writer concludes his book by expressing an opinion that a firm and organized resistance by Spain at the outset might have stopped the subsequent mischief; but this opinion he afterwards qualifies in the following words, which, coming from such a writer so well acquainted with those of whom he writes, speaks volumes in favour of Buccaneer prowess: "Je dis _peut-être_, car les aventuriers sont de terribles gens." Charlevoix describes the first Flibustiers as going out in canoes with twenty-five or thirty men, without pilot or provisions, to capture pearl-fishers and surprise small cruisers. If they succeeded, they went to Tortuga, bought a vessel, and started 150 strong, going to Cuba to take in salt turtle, or to Port Margot or Bayaha for dried pork or beef--dividing all upon the _compagnon à bon lot_ principle. They always said public prayer before starting on an expedition, and returned solemn thanks to God for victory. "They were," says a Jesuit writer, "at first so crowded in their boats that they had scarcely room to lie down; and, as they practised no economy in eating, they were always short of food. They were also night and day exposed to the inclemency of the weather, and yet loved so much the independence in which they lived, that no one murmured. Some sang when others wished to sleep, and all were by turns compelled to bear these inconveniences without complaint. But one may imagine men so little at their ease spared no pains to gain more comforts; that the sight of a larger and more convenient vessel gave them courage sufficient to capture it; and that hunger deprived them of all sense of the danger of procuring food. They attacked all they met without a thought, and boarded as soon as possible. A single volley would have sunk their vessels; but they were skilful in manoeuvre, their sailors were very active, and they presented to the enemy nothing but a prow full of fusiliers, who, firing through the portholes, struck the gunners with terror. Once on board, nothing could prevent them becoming masters of a ship, however numerous the crew. The Spaniards' blood grew cold when those whom they called, and looked upon as, demons came in sight, and they frequently surrendered at once in order to obtain quarter. If the prize was rich their lives were spared; but if the cargo proved poor, the Buccaneers often threw the crew into the sea in revenge." Their favourite coasts were the Caraccas, Carthagena, Nicaragua, and Campeachy, where the ports were numerous and well frequented. Their best harbours at the Caraccas were Cumana, Canagote, Coro, and Maracaibo; at Carthagena, La Rancheria, St. Martha, and Portobello. Round Cuba they watched for vessels going from New Spain to Maracaibo. If going, they found them laden with silver; if returning, full of cocoa. The prizes to the Caraccas were laden with the lace and manufactures of Spain; those from Havannah, with leather, Campeachy wood, cocoa, tobacco, and Spanish coin. The dress of the Buccaneer sailors must have varied with the changes of the age. Retaining their red shirts and leather sandals as the working dress of their brotherhood, we find them donning all the splendour rummaged from Spanish cabins, now wearing the plumed hat and laced sword-belt of Charles the Second's reign, and now the tufts of ribbons of the perfumed court of Louis Quatorze. Sprung from all nations and all ranks, some of them prided themselves upon the rough beard, bare feet, and belted shirt of the rudest seaman, while others, like Grammont and De Graff, flaunted in the richest costumes of their period. They must have passed from the long cloak and loose cassock of the Stuart reign to the jack-boots and Dutch dress of William of Orange; from the laced and flowing Steenkirk to the fringed cock-hat and deep-flapped waistcoat of Queen Anne. In the English translation of Esquemeling, Barthelemy Portugues, one of the earliest sea-rovers, is represented as having his long, lank hair parted in the centre and falling on his shoulders, and his moustachios long and rough. He wears a plain embroidered coat with a neck-band, and carries in his arms a short, broad sabre, unsheathed, as was the habit with many Buccaneer chiefs. Roche Braziliano appears in a plain hunter's shirt, the strings tying it at the neck being fastened in a bow. Lolonnois has the same shirt, showing at his neck and puffing through the openings of his sleeve, and he carries a naked broadsword with a shell guard. In the portrait of Sir Henry Morgan we see much more affectation of aristocratic dress. He has a rich coat of Charles the Second's period, a laced cravat tied in a fringed bow with long ends, and his broad sword-belt is stiff with gold lace. The hunter's shirt, however, still shows through the slashed sleeves. CHAPTER IV. PETER THE GREAT, THE FIRST BUCCANEER. Plunder of Segovia--Pierre-le-Grand--Pierre François--Barthelemy Portugues--His Escapes--Roche, the Brazilian--Fanatical hatred of Spaniards--Wrecks and Adventures. The date of the first organized Buccaneer expedition is uncertain. We only know that about the year 1654, a large party of Buccaneers, French and English, joined in an expedition to the continent. They ascended, in canoes, a river on the Mosquito Shore, a small distance on the south side of Cape Gracias à Dios, and after labouring for a month against a strong stream, full of torrents, left their boats and marched to the town of Nueva Segovia, which they plundered, and then returned down the river. It is difficult to trace the exact beginning of the Flibustiers, or, as they were soon called, the Buccaneers. According to most writers, the first successful adventurer known at Tortuga was Pierre-le-Grand (Peter the Great). He was a native of Dieppe, and his greatest enterprise was the capture of the vice-admiral of the Spanish _flota_, while lying off Cape Tiburon, on the west side of Hispaniola. This he accomplished in a canoe with only twenty-eight companions. Setting out by the Carycos he surprised his unwieldy antagonist in the channel of Bahama, which the Spaniards had hitherto passed in perfect security. He had been now a long time at sea without obtaining any prize worth taking, his provisions were all but exhausted, and his men, in danger of starving, were almost reduced to despair. While hanging over the gunwale, listless and discontented, the Buccaneers suddenly spied a large vessel of the Spanish fleet, separated from the rest and fast approaching them. They instantly sailed towards her to ascertain her strength, and though they found it to be vastly superior to theirs, partly from despair and partly from cupidity they resolved at once to take it or die in the attempt. It was but to die a little quicker if they failed, and the blood in their veins might as well be shed in a moment as slowly stagnate with famine. If they did not conquer they would die, but if they did not attack, and escaped notice, they would also perish, and by the most painful and lingering of deaths. Being now come so near that flight was impossible, they took a solemn oath to their captain to stand by him to the last, and neither to flinch nor skulk, partly hoping that the enemy was insufficiently armed, and that they might still master her. It was in the dusk of the evening, and the coming darkness facilitated their boarding, and concealed the disadvantage of numbers. While they got their arms ready they ordered their chirurgeon to bore a hole in the sides of the boat, in order that the utter hopelessness of their situation might impel them to more daring self-devotion, that they might be forced to attack more vigorously and board more quickly. But their courage needed no such incitement. With no other arms than a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other, they immediately climbed up the sides of the Spaniard and made their way pell-mell to the state cabin. There they found the captain and his officers playing at cards. Setting a pistol to their breasts, they commanded them to deliver up the ship. The Spaniards, surprised to hear the Buccaneers below, not having seen them board, and seeing no boat by which they could have arrived (for the surgeon had now sunk it, and rejoined his friends through a porthole), cried out, in an agony of superstitious fear, "Jesu, bless us, these are devils!" thinking the men had fallen from the clouds, or had been shaken from some shooting star. In the mean time Peter's kinsfolk fought their way into the gunroom, seized the arms, killed a few sailors who snatched up swords, and drove the rest under hatches. That very morning some of the Spanish sailors had told their captain that a pirate boat was gaining upon them, but when he came up to see, and beheld so small a craft, he laughed at their fears of a mere cockle shell, and went down again, despising any vessel, though it were as big and strong as their own. Upon a second alarm, late in the day, when his lieutenant asked him if he should not get a cannon or two ready, he grew angry, and replied, "No, no, rig the crane out, and hoist the boat aboard." Peter, having taken this rich prize, detained as many of the Spanish seamen as he needed, and put the rest on shore in Hispaniola, which was close at hand. The vessel was full of provisions and great riches, and Pierre steered at once for France, never returning to resume a career so well begun. The news of this capture set Tortuga in an uproar. The planters and hunters of Hispaniola burned to follow up a profession so glorious and so profitable. It had been discovered now that a man's fortune could be made by one single scheme of daring and enterprise. Not being able to purchase or hire boats at Tortuga, they set forth in their canoes to seek them elsewhere. Some began cruising about Cape de Alvarez, carrying off small Spanish vessels that carried hides and tobacco to the Havannah. Returning with their prizes to Tortuga, they started again for Campeachy or New Spain, where they captured richer vessels of greater burden. In less than a month they had brought into harbour two plate vessels, bound from Campeachy to the Caraccas, and two other ships of great size. In two years no less than twenty Buccaneer vessels were equipped at Tortuga, and the Spaniards, finding their losses increase and transport becoming precarious, despatched two large men-of-war to defend the coast. The next scourge of the Spaniard in these seas was Pierre François, a native of Dunkirk, whose combinative, far-seeing genius and dauntless heart soon raised him above the level of the mere footpads of the ocean. His little brigantine, with a picked crew of twenty-six men--hunters by sea and land--cruised generally about the Cape de la Vela, waiting for merchant ships on their way from Maracaibo to Campeachy. Pierre had now been a long time afloat and taken no prize, the usual prelude to great enterprises amongst these men, who defied all dangers and all enemies. The provisions were running short, the boat was leaky, the captain moody and silent, and the crew half mutinous. To return empty-handed to Tortuga was to be a butt for every sneerer, a victim to unrelenting creditors; to the men beggary, to Pierre a loss of fame and all future promotion. But, there being a perfect equality in these boats, the crews seldom rose in open rebellion; and as every one had a voice in the proposal of a scheme, there was no one to rail at if the scheme failed. At last, amid this suspense, more tedious than a tropic calm, one more daring or more far-seeing than the rest stood up and suggested a visit to the pearl-fishings at the Rivière de la Hache. History, always drowsy at critical periods, does not say if François was the proposer of this scheme or not. We may be sure he was a sturdy seconder, and that the plan was carried amid wild cheering and waving of hats and guns and swords enough to scare the sharks floating hungrily round the boat, and frighten the glittering flying-fish back into the sea. These Rancheria fishings were at a rich bank of pearl to which the people of Carthagena sent annually twelve vessels, with a man-of-war convoy, generally a Spanish armadilla with a crew of 200 men, and carrying twenty-four pieces of cannon. Every vessel had two or three Negro slaves on board, who dived for the pearls. These men seldom lived long, and were frequently ruptured by the exertion of holding breath a quarter of an hour below the waves. The time for diving was from October till May, when the north winds were lulled and the sea calm. The large vessel was called the _Capitana_, and to this the proceeds of the day were brought every night, to prevent any risk of fraud or theft. Rather than return unsuccessful, Pierre resolved to swoop down upon this guarded covey, and carry off the ship of war in the sight of all the fleet; a feat as dangerous as the abduction of an Irish heiress on the brink of marriage. He found the fishing boats riding at anchor at the mouth of the River de la Hache, and the man-of-war scarcely half a league distant. In the morning he approached them, and they, seeing him hovering at a distance like a kite above a farmyard, ran under shelter of their guardian's guns, like chickens under the hen's wing. Keeping still at a distance, they supposed he was afraid to approach, and soon allowed their fears to subside. The captain of the armadilla, however, took the precaution of sending three armed men on board each boat, believing the pearls the object of the Buccaneer, and left his own vessel almost defenceless. The hour had come. Furling his sails, Pierre rowed along the coast, feigning himself a Spanish vessel from Maracaibo, and when near the pearl bank, suddenly attacked the vice-admiral with eight guns and sixty men, and commanded him to surrender. The Spaniards, although surprised, made a good defence, but at last surrendered after half an-hour's hand-to-hand fight, before the almost unmanned armadilla could approach to render assistance. Pierre now sank his own boat, which had only been kept afloat by incessant working at the pumps. Many men would have rested satisfied with such a prize, but Pierre knew no Capua, and "thought naught done while aught remained to do." He at once resolved, by a stratagem, to capture the armadilla, and then the whole fleet would be his own. The night being very dark, and the wind high and favourable, he weighed anchor, forcing the prisoners to help his own crew. The man-of-war, seeing one of its fleet sailing, followed, fearing that the sailors were absconding with the pearls. As soon as it approached, Pierre made all the Spaniards, on pain of instant death, shout out "_Victoria, victoria!_ we have taken the ladrones," upon which the man-of-war drew off, promising to send for the prisoners in the morning. Laughing in his sleeve, Pierre gave orders for hoisting all sail, and stood away for the open sea, putting forth all his strength to get out of sight by daybreak. But the blood of the murdered Spaniards, yet hot upon the deck, was crying to heaven against him, and he was pursued. He had not got a league before the wind fell, and his ship lay like a log on the water, just within sight of his pursuers, who kept a long way off, burning with impatience and shame, and fretting like hounds in leash when the boar breaks out. About evening the wind rose, after much invocatory whistling, many prayers, many curses. Pierre, ignorant of the power of his prize, and what canvas she could bear, hoisted at random every stitch of sail and ran for his life, pursued by the armadilla, wrathful, white-winged, and swift. Like many a fleet runner, Pierre stumbled in his very eagerness for speed. He overloaded his vessel with sail. The wind grew higher, and howled like an avenging spirit, and his mainmast fell with the crash of a thunder-split oak. But Pierre held firm; he threw his prisoners into the hold, nailed down the hatches, and, trusting to night to escape, stood boldly at bay. He despaired of meeting force by force, having only twenty-two sound men, the rest being, before long, either killed or wounded. All in vain; the great bird of prey bore down upon him like a hawk upon a throstle, gaining, gaining every moment. Pierre defended himself courageously, and at last surrendered on condition. The Spanish captain agreed that the Buccaneers should not be employed in carrying, building-stones for three or four years like mere negroes, but should be set safe on dry land. As yet, the deep animosity of the two races had not sprung up. The prize they so nearly bore off contained above 100,000 pieces of eight in pearls, besides provisions and goods. At first the captain would have put them all to the sword, but his crew persuaded him to keep his word. The Frenchmen were then thrust down with curses into the same dark hold from whence the imprisoned Spaniards were now released; so "the whirligig of time brings about its revenge." When the crestfallen Buccaneers were brought before the governor of Carthagena, an outcry arose among the populace that the robbers should all be hung, to atone for an alfarez whom they had killed, and who, they said, was worth the whole French nation put together. The governor, however, though he did not put them to death, ungenerously broke the terms of his agreement, and compelled his prisoners to work at the fortifications of St. Francisco, in his own island. After about three years of this painful slavery, amid the jeers and contumely of the very negroes, they were sent to Spain, and from thence escaping one by one to France, made their way back to the Spanish main, more eager than ever to revenge their wrongs at the hands of a nation whose riches furnished a ready means of expiation, and whose cowardice rendered them incapable of frequent retaliation. The third hero on our stage, equally bold and no less memorable, was Barthelemy Portugues, a native of Portugal, as his name implied. Roused by the rumours of adventures which insured gold and glory, Barthelemy (no saint, and certainly more ready to flay others than to submit to flaying) sought out a small vessel at Jamaica, and fitted it up at his own expense. As only his most remarkable enterprises are recorded it is probable, from his having money, that he was already known as a successful Flibustier. This boat he armed with four three-pounders, and embarked with a crew of thirty men. Leaving Kingston with a good wind at his back, he set sail to cruise off Cape de Corriente, which he knew was the high road where he should meet vessels coming from the Caraccas or Carthagena, on their way to Campeachy, New Spain, or the Havannah. He had not been long beating about the Cape--a point rounded with as much care by a Spanish merchantman, afraid of Buccaneers, as Cape St. Vincent was by the European captain, dreading the Salee rovers--before a great vessel, bound from Maracaibo and Carthagena to the Havannah, hove in sight. It had a crew of seventy men, and carried twenty guns, and many passengers and marines. The Flibustiers, thinking a Spaniard so well armed and manned to be more than their match, held one of their republican councils round the mast, and refused to attack unless the captain wished. He decided that no opportunity should be lost, for that nothing in any part of the world could be won without risk. They instantly gave chase to the vessel that quietly awaited their approach, as astonished at the attack as a swallow would be if it were pursued by a gnat. Receiving one flaming broadside, noisy but harmless, the half-stripped rovers instantly threw themselves on board, but were repulsed by the Spaniards, who were numerous, hopeful, and brave. Returning to their vessel and throwing down their cutlass for the musket, they kept up a close fire of small arms for five hours without ceasing. Every gunner and every reefer was picked off, the decks were red, the return fire grew slack as the defence grew weaker, and the foe's proud courage cooled; the Buccaneers again threw themselves on board, and made themselves masters of the ship, with the loss of only ten men and four wounded. They had now only fifteen men left to navigate a vessel containing nearly forty prisoners. This number was all that were left alive, and of these many were maimed with shot wounds or gashed with sword cuts. The conquerors' first act was to throw the dead overboard, officer and sailor, just as they fell, stripping off the jewels and ransacking pockets for the dead men's doubloons. The living Spaniards, wounded and dying, they drove into one small boat, and gave them their liberty, afraid to keep them as prisoners and unwilling to shed their blood. They then set to work to splice the rigging and piece the sails, and lastly, to rummage for the plunder. They found the value of their prize to be 75,000 crowns, besides 120,000 pounds of cocoa, worth about 5000 additional. Having refitted the shattered vessel, they would have sailed round the island of Jamaica, but a contrary wind and current obliged them to steer to Cape St. Anthony, the west extremity of Cuba, where they landed and took in water, of which they were in great want. They had scarcely hoisted sail to resume their course, probably intending to return to port to sell their spoil before starting afresh, when they unexpectedly fell upon three large vessels coming from New Spain to the Havannah, who gave chase, as certain of victory as three greyhounds bounding after a single hare. The Flibustiers, heavy laden with plunder, and unable to make way, were almost instantly retaken, falling as easy a prey as a gorged wolf does to the hunter. In a few hours the Buccaneers were under hatches, stripped of even their very clothes, and counting the moments before execution--the Puritan doling out his hymns, the Catholic muttering his Miserere, and the rude Cow-killer vowing vengeance if he could but escape. Two evenings after a storm arose and separated the leash of armed merchantmen. The vessel containing the luckless Portugues arrived first at St. Francisco, Campeachy. Barthelemy, who spoke Spanish, had been well treated by the captain, who did not know what a prize he had taken. The news of the capture soon ran through the town, the captain became a public man, the bells rang, the people flocked to see the caged lions, and the principal merchants of the place crowded to congratulate him on his success. Among the curious and timid visitors was one who recognised Barthelemy, in spite of all his oaths and denials, and demanded his surrender. No hate can match the hate of injured avarice and frustrated cupidity. "This is Barthelemy the Portuguese," he told every one, "the most wicked rascal in the world, and who has done more harm to Spanish commerce than all the other pirates put together." He ran everywhere and declared they had at last got hold of the man so famous for the many insolences, robberies, and murders he had committed on their coast, and by whose cruel hands many of their kinsmen had perished. The captain, rather distrustful--somewhat favourable to Barthelemy, perhaps, considering him as a brother seaman, worth any ten land-lubbers, and annoyed at the arrogance of the merchant's demand--refused to surrender the Portuguese, or to send him on shore. The enraged merchant upon this proceeded to the governor, who, listening to his complaint, sent to demand the Buccaneers in the king's name. He was instantly arrested, spite of the captain's entreaties, and placed on board another vessel, heavily ironed, for fear he should escape, as he had done on a former occasion. A gibbet was erected, and the next day it was resolved to lead him at once from his cabin to the place of execution, without the hypocritical and useless ceremony of even a prejudged trial. For some time Portugues remained uncertain of his fate, till a Spanish sailor (for he seems to have had the power of winning friends) told him that the gibbet was already putting together, and the rope was ready noosed. In that delay was his safety; that very night he resolved to escape, or perish by a quicker or less disgraceful death. No doubt, with that strange mixture of religion remaining in the minds of most Buccaneers, he prayed to God or the saints to aid him. He soon freed himself from his irons. Discovering in his cabin two of those large earthen jars in which wine was brought from Spain to the Indies, he closed over the orifices, and hung them to his side with cords, being probably unable to swim, and the distance too far to the shore. Finding that he could not elude the vigilance of the sleepless sentinel that paced at his door, he stabbed him with a knife he had secretly purchased, and let himself noiselessly down, from the mainchains into the water, floating to land without the splash that a swimmer would have made in still water. Once on land he concealed himself in a wood, prepared to bear any danger, and glad at heart to endure starvation rather than suffer a public and shameful death. He was too cunning to set off at once on a route that would be explored, but hid himself among trees half covered with water, in order to prevent the possibility of his being tracked by the maroon bloodhounds--a common stratagem with the moss-troopers, who found the sound of running water drown the noise of their movements and the murmur of their breathing, and destroy all traces of their track. Bruce and Wallace had long before escaped by the artifice that now saved a robber and a murderer. His must have been anxious nights, varied by the shouts of negroes, the deep bay of the dogs, the oaths of the Spaniards, the discharge of fire-arms, the toll of the alarm bell, the glare of beacons; and the flash of torches. For these three days he lived on yams and other roots growing around him. From a tree in which he sometimes harboured he had the satisfaction of seeing his pursuers search the wood in vain, and finally relinquish the pursuit. Believing that the danger had now in some degree decreased, the lion-hearted sailor determined to push for the Golpho Triste, forty leagues distant, where he hoped to find a Buccaneer ship careening. He arrived there after fourteen days of incredible endurance. He started in the evening from the seashore, within sight of the lit-up town where a black gibbet was still standing bodingly against the sky. His forced marches were full of terrible dangers and perils. He had no provisions with him, and nothing but a small calabash of water hung at his side. Hunger and thirst strode beside him, the wild beast glared in his path, the Spanish voices seemed to pursue him. His subsistence was the raw shell-fish that he found washed among the rocks upon the shore, fresh or putrid he had no time to consider. He had streams to ford, dark with caymans, and he had to traverse woods where the jaguars howled. Whenever he came to a stream unusually dark, deep, and dangerous, and where no ford was visible (for he could not swim), he threw in large stones as he waded to scare away the crocodiles that lurked round the shallows. In one spot he travelled five or six leagues swinging like a sloth from bough to bough of a pathless wood of mangroves, never once setting foot upon the ground. His day's progress was often scarcely perceptible. At one river more than usually deep he found an old plank, which had drifted ashore when the seaman was washed off, and from this he obtained some large rusty nails. Extracting these nails, he sharpened them on a stone with great labour, and used them to cut down some branches of trees, which he joined together with osiers and pliable twigs, and slowly constructed a raft. Hunger, thirst, heat, and fear beset him round; and the voice of the sea, always on his right hand, came to him like the hungry howl of death. In these fourteen nights he must have literally tasted death, and anticipated the horrors of hell. "Fortune favors the brave." He found a Buccaneer vessel in the gulf, and he was saved. The crew were old companions of his, newly arrived from Jamaica and from England. He related to them his adversities and his misfortunes. All listened eagerly to adventures that might to-morrow be their own. He thought alone of revenge, and told them that if they chose he would give them a ship worth a whole fleet of their canoes. He desired their help. He only asked for one boat and thirty men. With these he promised to return to Campeachy and capture the vessel that had taken him but fourteen days before. They soon granted his request, the boat was at once equipped, and he sailed along the coast, passing for a smuggler bringing contraband goods. In eight days he arrived at Campeachy, undauntedly and without noise boarding the vessel at midnight. They were challenged by the sentinel. Barthelemy, who spoke good Spanish, replied, in a low voice, "We are part of the crew returning with goods from land, on which no duty has been paid." The sentinel, hoping for a share, or at least some hush-money, did not repeat the question. Allowing him no time to detect the trick, they stabbed him, and, rushing forward, overpowered the watch. Cutting the cable, they surprised the sleepers in their cabins, and, weighing anchor, soon compelled the Spaniards, by a resolute attack, to surrender; and, setting sail from the port, rejoined their exulting comrades, unpursued by any vessel. Great was the joy of the adventurers in becoming possessors of so brave a ship. Portugues was now again rich and powerful, though but lately a condemned prisoner in the very vessel upon whose deck he now stood the lord of all. With this cargo of rich merchandise Barthelemy intended to achieve enterprises, for though the Spaniards' plate had been all disembarked at Campeachy, the booty was still large. But let no hunter halloo till he is out of the wood, and no sailor laugh till he gets into port. While he was making his voyage to Jamaica, and already counting his profits as certain, a terrible storm arose off the isle of Pinos, on the south of Cuba, which drove his prize against the Jardine rocks, where she went to pieces. Portugues and his companions escaped in a canoe to Jamaica, and before long started on new adventures. What eventually became of him we know not, but we are told that "he was never fortunate after." Whether he swung on the Campeachy gibbet after all, became a prey to the Darien man-eater, was pierced by the Greek bullet, or was devoured by the sea, long expecting its victim, we shall never know. He sails away from Kingston with colours flying, and wanders away into unknown deeps. Of this wild man's end nothing was ever known. He was living at Jamaica when Esquemeling left for England. His bones, perhaps, still whiten on some Indian bay, with the sea moaning around that nameless dust for ever--doomed to destroy man, but lamenting the very desolation it occasions. This Roche Braziliano (or Roc, the Brazilian, as the English adventurers called him,) was born at Groninghen, in East Friezeland; and his own name being forgotten, he was called the Brazilian, because his parents had been Dutch settlers in the Brazils. Roche was taught the Indian and Portuguese languages at an early age, and, when the latter nation retook the Brazils, removed with his parents to the French Antilles, where he learned French. Disliking the nation, he passed into Jamaica. Here he learned to speak English, and, settling among our more congenial race, became attached to the country of his adoption. But he had lingered too long in the desert to have much taste for even Goshen. He had already acquired the Arab's love for wandering, and poverty combined to lead him into an adventurer's ship. Into this mode of life all restless talent and love of enterprise was now driven. After only three voyages, Roche became commander of a brig whose crew had mutinied from their captain and offered him the command. In a few days, this almost untried man had the good fortune to capture a large vessel coming from New Spain with a great quantity of plate on board. On his arrival in Jamaica, Roc became at once the acknowledged leader of all the Vikinger of the Spanish main--their first sailor, their hero, and their model. He soon grew so terrible that the Spanish mothers used his name as a hushword to their children. Roc is described as having a stalwart and vigorous body. He was of ordinary height, but stout and muscular. His face was wide and short, his cheek-bones prominent, and his eyebrows bushy and of unusual size. He was skilful in the use of all Indian and Catholic (Spanish) arms, a good hunter, a good fisherman, and a good shot--as skilful a pilot as he was a brave soldier. He generally carried a naked sabre resting on his arm, and made no scruple of cutting down any of his crew who were idle, mutinous, or cowardly. He was much dreaded even in Jamaica, and particularly when drunk, says his candid biographer. At those times he would frequently run a-muck through the streets, beating and wounding any one he met, especially if they dared to oppose or resist him. In his sober moments he was esteemed and feared, but he too often abandoned himself to every sort of debauchery. In Roc we see the first indication of a new phase of Buccaneering life--_a fanatical hatred of the Spaniard_. The sailor, at first a mere privateersman at sea, and a hunter on shore, was now a legal robber, with a spice of the crusader: a chivalrous Vendetta feeling had become superadded to the mere love of booty. A thirst for gold had proved irresistible: what would it be now when it became heightened by a thirst for blood? To the Spaniards Roc was always very barbarous and cruel, out of an inveterate hatred to that nation. He seldom gave them quarter, and treated them with untiring ferocity. He taxed his invention for new modes of torture, revenging upon them by a rather indirect mode of retaliation the wrongs inflicted upon his parents by the Portuguese. He is said to have even roasted alive some of his prisoners on wooden spits, like boucaned boars, because they refused to disclose the hog-yards where he might victual his ships. By the Spaniards he was reported to be really an apostate outlaw of their own nation, this being the only way in which they could account for his needless and useless cruelties. On one occasion, as he was cruising on the coast of Campeachy, a dismal tempest, says the chronicler, "surprised him so violently" that his ship was wrecked, himself and his crew only escaping with their muskets, a little powder, and a few bullets, much more useful, however, than gold on such a coast. They reached shore not far from Golpho Triste, the scene of Barthelemy's escape. Roc was not the man to be cast down by an accident no more regarded by true adventurers than the upsetting of a coach by an ordinary traveller. Getting ashore in a canoe, he determined to march quickly along the coast, and repair to the gulf, a well-known haunt of the members of their craft. Roc bade his men be of good heart, and he would bring them safe out of every danger, and, giving them hope, the promise was already half accomplished. Getting on the main road, they proceeded on their march through a hostile country, with the air of men who had conquered the whole Indies. They had already reached a desert track, and were grown fatigued, hungry, and thirsty, when some Indians gave the alarm, and the Spaniards were soon down upon them, to the number of one hundred well-armed and well-mounted horsemen, while the Buccaneers were but thirty men. As soon as Roc saw the enemy, the Brazilian cried out, "Courage, _mes frères_, we are hungry now, but, Caramba, you shall soon have a dinner if you follow me," and then, perceiving the imminent danger, he encouraged his men, telling them they were better soldiers than the Spaniards, and that they ought rather to die fighting under their arms as became men of courage, than to surrender, and have their lives pressed out by the extremest torments. Seeing their commander's courage, the wrecked men resolved to attack, instead of waiting tamely for the enemy's approach, and, facing the Spaniards, they at once discharged their guns so dexterously, that they killed a horseman with almost every shot. After an hour's hot fighting, the Spaniards fled. The adventurers lost only two men, two more being lamed. Stripping the dead, they took from them every valuable, and despatched the wounded with the butt-end of their muskets. They then feasted on the wine and brandy they found in their knapsacks, or at their saddle bows, and declared themselves ready to attack as many again; and having finished their meal, they mounted on the stray horses, and proceeded on their march. The victors had not gone more than two days' journey before they caught sight of a well-manned Spanish vessel, lying off the shore beneath. It had come to protect the boats which landed the men who cut the Campeachy dyewood. Roc saw that the poultry-yard knew nothing of the kite that was hovering near. He instantly concealed his band, and went with six comerades into a thicket near the beach to watch. Here they passed the night. At daybreak the Spaniards, pulling to shore in their canoe, were received in a courteous but unexpected manner by the Buccaneers. Roc instantly summoned his men, boarded and took the vessel. The little man-of-war contained little plate, but, what was of equal use, two hundred weight of salt, with which he salted down a few of the horses which he killed. The remaining horses he gave to his Spanish prisoners, telling them laughingly, that the beasts were worth more than the vessel, and that once on their backs on dry land no rascal need fear drowning. A Buccaneer's first thought on obtaining one prize was to gain another as soon as possible. Roc had still twenty-six man by him, and a good vessel to move in. He soon took a ship, bound to Maracaibo from New Spain, laden with merchandise and money designed to buy a cargo of cocoa-nuts. With this they repaired to Jamaica, letting the vessel scorch in harbour till their money was all gone. Having spent all, Braziliano put out to sea again, impatient of poverty and resolved to trust to fortune, for he was her favourite child. He sailed for the rendezvous at Campeachy, and after fifteen days started in a canoe to hover round the port, beating about like a hawk in search of prey. He was soon after captured and taken with his men before a Spanish governor, who cast them into a dungeon, intending to hang them every one. But fortune only hid her smiles for a moment, and had not deserted him. Roc, as subtle as he was intrepid, had not yet exhausted his wiles. He was at bay and the dogs were gathered round, but they had not yet got him by the throat. He made friends with the slave who brought him food, and promised to give him money to buy his freedom if he would aid his scheme. He did not wish to compromise the slave: he only wished him to be the bearer of a letter to the governor. The slave told the governor that he had been put on shore in the bay by some Buccaneers and had been ordered to deliver the letter. The letter was an angry threat, supposed to be indited by the captain of a French vessel lying in the offing. It advised the governor "to have a care how he used those persons he had in his custody, for in case he should do them any harm, they did swear unto him, they would never give quarter unto any person of the Spanish nation that should fall into their hands." The governor, lifting up his eyes and twisting his moustachios at the threat, was intimidated, and became anxious to get rid as soon as possible of such dangerous prisoners, for Campeachy had already been taken once by the adventurers, and he feared what mischief the companions who visited Spanish towns might do. He began now to treat his prisoners with greater kindness, and on the first opportunity sent for them, and, exacting a simple oath that they would abandon piracy, shipped them on board the galleon fleet bound for Spain. Roc, with his usual versatility, soon made himself so much beloved that the Spanish captain offered to take him as a sailor, and he accepted the offer. During this single voyage to Spain he made a sum of no less than 500 crowns by selling the officers fish that he struck in the Indian manner with arrows and harpoons from the main-chains. His comerades, whom he never forgot, were treated with consideration on his account. On his arrival in Spain, Roc, in spite of his oath, which had been exacted by fear of death, and therefore absolvable by any priest, lost no time in getting back to Jamaica, where he arrived without a vessel to call his own, but in other respects in better circumstances than when he left. He joined himself at once to two French adventurers. The chief of these, named Tributor, was an old Buccaneer of great experience. They determined to land upon the peninsula of Yucatan, in hopes of taking the town of Merida. Roc, who had been there before as a prisoner, and had doubtless proposed the scheme, served as guide, but some Indians got upon their trail and alarmed the Spaniards, who fortified the place and prepared for an attack. On the Buccaneers' arrival they found the town well garrisoned and defended, and while they were still debating whether to advance or retreat, the question was abruptly decided for them by a body of the enemy's horsemen who fell upon their rear, cut half of them to pieces, and made the rest prisoners. The wily Roc, never taken much by surprise, contrived to escape, but old Tributor and his men were all captured. Oexmelin expresses his wonder at Roc's escape, because he had always held it vile cowardliness to allow another man to strike before himself. "Hitherto he had been the last to yield, even when he was overborne by enemies, and had been heard to say that he preferred death to dishonour." _Nemo mortalium_, &c. CHAPTER V. LOLONNOIS THE CRUEL. Lolonnois--His stratagem--His cruelty--His partner, Michael le Basque--Takes Maracaibo--Tortures the citizens--Sacks the town--Takes Gibraltar--Attempt on Merida--Famine and pestilence--Division of spoil--Takes St. Pedro--Burns Veragua--Wrecked in Honduras--Attacked by Indians--Killed and eaten by the savages. The Spanish ships now decreased in number, merchants relinquishing a trade so uncertain and perilous. The consequence of this was that the Buccaneers, finding their sea cruises grow less profitable, began to venture upon the mainland, and attack towns and even cities. The first Buccaneer who distinguished himself in this wider field of action was Francis Lolonnois. He was born among the sands of Olonne, in Poictou, and drew his _nom de guerre_ from that wild and fitting birthplace. He quitted France in early life, and embarked at Rochelle as an _engagé_ for the Caribbean Islands, where he served the customary slavery of three years. Having heard much during this servitude of the hunters of Hispaniola, he sailed for that island as soon as his apprenticeship had expired, and he was again a free adventurer. He first bound himself as a valet to a hunter, and finally became himself a Buccaneer, having now passed through all the usual experiences of a young West Indian colonist. Spending some time upon the savannahs, he became restless and tired of shore, and desirous of enlisting as a freebooter under the red flag. Repairing to Tortuga, the head-quarters of Flibustier enterprise, he enrolled himself among the rovers of the sea, with whom he made many voyages as simple mariner or companion. From the first day he trod plank he is said to have shown himself destined to attain high distinction, surpassing all the "Brothers" in adroitness, agility, and daring. In these floating republics talent soon rose to the surface. Lolonnois was elected master of a vessel, with which he took many prizes, but at last lost everything by a storm which wrecked his ship, drowned his men, sank his cargo, and cast him bleeding and naked upon a savage shore. His courage and conduct, however, had won the admiration of the Governor of Tortuga, M. de la Place, whose island he had enriched by the frequent sale of prizes, and who launched him again in a new ship to encounter once more all the fury of the sea, the hurricane, and the Spaniard. Fortune was at first favourable to him, and he acquired great riches. His name became so dreaded by the Indians and the Spaniards that they chose rather to die or drown than surrender to one who never knew the word mercy. He never learned how to chain fortune to his mast, and was soon a second time wrecked at Campeachy. The men were all saved, but on reaching land were pursued and killed by the Spaniards. Lolonnois, himself severely wounded, saved his life by a stratagem. Mixing the sand of the shore with the blood flowing from his wounds, he smeared his face and body, and hid himself dexterously under a heap of dead, remaining there till the Spaniards had carried off one or two of his less severely wounded companions into Campeachy. As soon as they were gone he arose with a grim smile from his lurking place among the slain, and betook himself to the woods. He then washed his now stiffened wounds in a river, and bound up his gashes as he could. As soon as they were healed (the flesh of these men soon healed), he put on the dress of a slain Spaniard, and made his way boldly into the neighbouring city. In the suburbs he entered into conversation with some slaves he met, whom he bribed by an offer of freedom if they would obey him and follow his guidance. They listened to his proposal, and, stealing their master's canoe, brought it to the sea-shore, where Lolonnois lay concealed. But before this the disguised Buccaneer had gone rambling fearlessly through the enemy's town, witnessing the rejoicings made at his own supposed death; for his companions, who were kept close prisoners in a dungeon, had been asked what had become of their captain, to which they had always replied that he was dead, upon which the Spaniards lit up bonfires in their open squares, thanking God for their deliverance from so cruel a pirate. The flames of these fires were red upon the bay when Lolonnois and the slaves pushed off their canoe and made haste to escape. They reached Tortuga in safety, and Lolonnois kept his promise, and set the slaves at liberty--although, if he had been base and worthless enough, he could have refitted his boat with the profits of their sale. He now thought only of revenging himself on the Spaniards for their cruelty in murdering the survivors of a wreck. He spent whole days in considering how he could capture a vessel and restore himself to his former reputation for skill and fortune. By some extraordinary plan, Esquemeling--who writes always with affected horror of the men amongst whom he lived--says, with "craft and subtlety," he soon obtained a third ship, with a crew of twenty-one men and a surgeon. Being well provided with arms and necessaries--how provided by a penniless man it is impossible to guess--he resolved to visit De Los Cayos, a village on the south side of Cuba, where he knew vessels from the Havannah passed to the port of Boca de Estera, where they purchase tobacco, sugar, and hides, coming generally in small boats, for the sea ran very shallow. At this place meat was also obtained to victual the Spanish fleets. Here Lolonnois was very sanguine of booty, but some fishermen's boats, observing him, alarmed the town. One of these canoes they captured, and, placing in it a crew of eleven men, proceeded to coast about the Bayes du Nord. The Buccaneers kept at some distance from each other, in hopes of sooner surrounding their prey, for each of their crews was strong enough to capture any merchant vessel that had not more than fifteen or sixteen unarmed men on board. They remained some months beating off and on Cuba, but caught nothing, although this was the very height of the commercial season. After a long delay of wonder and vexation, they learned the cause of their failure from the crew of a fishing-boat which they captured, who told them that the people of Cayos would not venture to sea because they knew that they were there. It would be dangerous for them to remain, they added, for the chief merchants of the port had instantly despatched a "vessel overland" to the Governor of Havannah, telling him that Lolonnois had come in two canoes to destroy them, and begging him to send and destroy the "ladrones." The governor could with difficulty at first be persuaded to listen to the petition, because he had just received letters from Campeachy bidding him rejoice at the death of that pirate; but, aroused by the continued importunities of his angry petitioners, he at last sent a ship to their relief. This ship carried ten guns, and had a crew of ninety young, vigorous, and well-armed men, to whom he gave at parting an express command that they should not return into his presence without having first destroyed those pirates. He sent with them a negro hangman, desiring him to kill on the spot all they should take, except Lolonnois, the captain, who was to be brought alive in triumph to the Havannah. The ship had scarcely arrived at Cayos when the pirate, advertised of its approach, came to seek it at its moorings in the river Estera. Lolonnois cried out, when he saw it loom in the distance, "Courage, mes camarades! courage, mes bons frères! we shall soon be well mounted." Capturing some fishermen busy with their nets, he forced them at night to show him the entrance of the port. Rowing very quietly in the shadow of the trees that bordered the river's banks and hid their approach, they arrived under the vessel's side a little after two o'clock in the morning--not long before daybreak. The watch on board the ship hailed them, and asked them whence they came and if they had seen any pirates? They made one of the fishermen who guided them reply in Spanish that they had seen no pirates or anything else; and this made the Spaniards believe that Lolonnois had fled at their approach. The Buccaneers instantly began to open fire on both sides from their canoes. The Spaniards, who kept good guard, returned the fire, but without much effect, for their enemies lay down flat in their boats, and the trees served them as gabions. The Spaniards fought bravely, in spite of the suddenness and vigour of the attack, and made some use of their great guns. The combat lasted from dawn till midday, the crew of the vessel discharging ineffectual volleys of musketry, which seldom injured the assailants, whose bullets, on the other hand, killed or wounded every moment some of the Havannah youth. When the firing began to slacken, Lolonnois pulled his canoes out into the stream, and boarded the vessel, which almost instantly surrendered. Those who survived were beaten down under the hatches, while the wounded on the decks received the _coup de grace_. When this had been done, Lolonnois commanded his men to bring up the prisoners one by one from the hold, cutting off their heads as they came up with his own hand, and tasting their blood. The negro hangman, seeing the fate of his predecessors, threw himself passionately at the feet of the Buccaneer chief, and exclaimed in Spanish, "If you will not kill me I will tell you the truth." Lolonnois, supposing he had some secret to tell, bade him speak on. But he refused to open his lips further till life were promised him; upon the promise being made, the trembling wretch exclaimed, "Senor capitan, Monsieur, the governor of the Havannah, not doubting but that this well-armed frigate would have taken the strongest of your vessels, sent me on board to serve as executioner, and to hang all the prisoners that his men took, in order to intimidate your nation, so that they should not dare ever to approach a Spanish vessel." Esquemeling, who always exaggerates the cruelty of his quondam companions, says, Lolonnois, making the black confess what he thought fit, commanded him to be murdered with the rest; but Oexmelin gives a more probable version. At the negro's mention of his being a hangman he grew furious, and but for his words, "I give thee quarter and even liberty because I promised it thee," would certainly have put him to death. He then slew all the rest of the crew but one man, whom he spared in order to send him back with a letter to the governor of the Havannah. The letter ran thus: "I have returned your kindness by doing to your men what they designed to do to me and my companions. I shall never henceforward give quarter to any Spaniard whatsoever, and I have great hopes of executing upon your own person the very same punishment I have done upon those you sent against me. It would be better for you to cut your throat than to fall into my power." The governor, enraged at the loss of his ship and crew, and exasperated by the insolent daring of the letter, swore in the presence of many that he would not grant quarter to any pirate who fell into his hands. Furious that two canoes, with twenty-two half-naked men, should be able to deride the might of Spain in his person, he instantly sent round word to the neighbouring Indian forts to hang all their French and English prisoners, instead of, as usual, embarking them for Spain. The citizens of Havannah, hearing of this imprudent bravado, sent a deputation to the governor to represent to him that, for one Englishman or Frenchman that the Spaniards captured, the Buccaneers took every day a hundred of their people, that the men of Havannah were obliged to get their living by trading, that life was far dearer to them than mere money, which was all the Buccaneers wanted; and lastly, that all their fishermen would be daily exposed to danger, the Buccaneers having frequent opportunity for reprisal. Upon this the angry governor was at last persuaded to bridle his passion and remit the severity of his oath. Lolonnois, now provided with a good ship, resolved to cruise from port to port to obtain provisions and men. Off Maracaibo he surprised a ship laden with plate, outward-bound to buy cocoa-nuts, and with this prize returned to Tortuga, much to his own satisfaction and the general joy of that strange colony of runaway slaves, disbanded soldiers, hunters, privateersmen, pirates, Puritans, and papists. He had not been long in port before he planned an expedition to Maracaibo, joining another adventurer in equipping a body of five hundred men. In Tortuga he found prisoners for guides, and disbanded adventurers resolute enough to be his companions. His partner was Michael le Basque, a Buccaneer who had retired very rich, and was now major of the island. He had done great actions in Europe, and bore the repute of being a good soldier. Lolonnois was to rule by sea and Le Basque by land. Le Basque knew all the avenues of Maracaibo, and had lately taken in a prize two Indians, who knew the port well and offered to act both as pilots and guides. Le Basque had consented to join Lolonnois, struck by the daring and comprehension of his plans, and Lolonnois was overjoyed at the alliance of so tried a man. Notice was instantly given to all the unemployed Buccaneers that they were planning a great expedition with much chance of booty. All who were willing to join them were to come by a certain day to the rendezvous either at Tortuga or Bayala, on the north side of Hispaniola; at the latter place he revictualled his fleet, took some French hunters as volunteers into his company, careened his vessels, and procured beef and pork by the chase. His fleet consisted of eight small ships, of which his own, the largest, carried only twenty pieces of cannon; his crews amounted altogether to about four hundred men. Setting sail from Bayala the last day in July, while doubling Ponta del Espada (Sword Point), the eastern cape of Hispaniola, Lolonnois overtook two Spanish vessels coming from Porto Rico to New Spain, and one of these Lolonnois insisted on capturing with his own hand, sending in his fleet to Savona. The Spaniards, although they had an opportunity for two whole hours, refused to fly, and, being well armed, prepared for a desperate resistance; the combat lasted for three hours. The ship carried sixteen guns, and was manned by fifty fighting men. They found in her a cargo of 120,000 pounds' weight of cocoa, 40,000 pieces of eight, and the value of 10,000 more in jewels. Lolonnois instantly sent this prize back to Tortuga to be unloaded, with orders to return to the rendezvous at Savona. On their way to this place, his vanguard had also been in luck, having met with a Spanish vessel bringing military stores and money from Cumana for the garrisons of Hispaniola. In this vessel, which they took without any resistance, though armed with eight guns, they found 7,000 pounds' weight of powder, a great number of muskets and other arms, together with 12,000 pieces of eight. These successes encouraged the adventurers, and to superstitious men seemed like promises of good fortune and success. The generosity of the governor of Tortuga also tended to heighten their spirits. M. D'Ogeron, the French governor, had been greatly delighted at the early arrival of so rich a prize, worth, at the lowest calculation, 180,000 livres, and threw open all his store-houses for the use of the prize crew. Ordering her to be quickly unloaded, he sent her back to Lolonnois full of provisions and necessaries. Many persons who had come from France with the governor now joined an expedition which had begun so auspiciously, desirous of gaining a fortune with the same rapidity as the older colonists. By hazarding a little money a planter could obtain a chance of sharing in the plunder of a distant city without moving from under the shadow of his tamarind tree, and the governor's approval threw an air of legal government patronage over the expedition. D'Ogeron even sent his two nephews on board, young gallants newly arrived from France, and one of whom afterwards ruled the island in the room of his uncle. With a fleet recruited with men in room of those killed by the fever or the Spaniards, and full of hope and spirits, Lolonnois sailed for Maracaibo. His own vessel he gave to his comrade Anthony du Puis, and went himself on board the _Cacaoyere_, as the largest prize was called. Before sailing, he reviewed his little invincible armada. His own new frigate carried sixteen guns and 120 men. His vice-admiral, Moses Vauclin, had ten guns and ninety men; and his _matelot_, Le Basque, sailed in a vessel called _La Poudrière_, because it contained all the powder, the ammunition, and the money for the sailors' pay. It carried twenty pieces of cannon and ninety men. Pierre le Picard steered a brigantine with forty men. Moses had equipped another of the same size, and the two other smaller vessels were each managed by a crew of thirty men. Every sailor was armed with a good musket, a brace of pistols, and a strong sabre. At this review Lolonnois first disclosed his whole plan, which was to visit Maracaibo, in the province of New Venezuela, and to pillage all the towns that border the lake. He then produced his guides, one of whom had been a pilot over the bar at Maracaibo, and who vouched for the ease with which the attack could be made. Shouts and clamour announced the universal satisfaction at the proposal. They all agreed to follow him, and took an oath that they would obey him implicitly on the penalty of being mulcted of their booty. The usual _chasse-partie_, or Buccaneers' agreement, was then drawn up, specifying the exact share that each one should receive of the spoil, from the captain down to the boys of the ships, and not forgetting the wounded and the guides. Venezuela, or "little Venice," derived its name from its being very low land, and only preserved from frequent inundation by artificial means. At six or seven leagues' distance from the Bay of Maracaibo, or Gulf of Venezuela, are two small islands--the island of the Watch Tower and the island of the Pigeons. Between these two islands runs a channel of fresh water--as wide across as an eight-pound shot can carry, about sixty leagues long, and thirty broad--which empties itself into the sea. On the Isla de las Vigilias stood a hill surmounted by a watch-tower; on the Isla de las Palombas a fort to impede the entrance of vessels, which were obliged to come very near, the channel being narrowed by two sand-banks, which left only fourteen feet water. The sand-drifts were very numerous; some of them, particularly one called El Tablazo, not having more than six feet water. "West hereof," says Esquemeling--for we must describe the past, not the present city--"is the city of Maracaibo, very pleasant to the view, its houses being built along the shore, having delightful prospects all round. The city may contain three or four thousand persons, slaves included, all which make a town of reasonable bigness. There are judged to be about 800 persons able to bear arms, all Spaniards. Here are one parish church, well built and adorned, four monasteries, and one hospital. The city is governed by a deputy-governor, substituted by the governor of the Caraccas. The trade here exercised is mostly in hides and tobacco. The inhabitants possess great numbers of cattle and many plantations, which extend thirty leagues in the country, especially towards the great town of Gibraltar, where are gathered great quantities of cocoa nuts, and all other garden fruits, which serve for the regale and sustenance of the inhabitants of Maracaibo, whose territories are much drier than those of Gibraltar. Hither those of Maracaibo send great quantities of flesh, they making returns in oranges, lemons, and other fruits; for the inhabitants of Gibraltar want flesh, not being capable of feeding cows and sheep." The inner lake within the great bar, so difficult to cross, was fed by upwards of seventy streams, of which several were navigable. The two capes on either side of the gulf were named respectively Cape St. Roman and the Cape of Caquibacoa. The east side, though frequently flooded, was unhealthy, but very fertile, something resembling the Maremma, where, according to an Italian proverb, a man gets rich in six months and dies in seven. In the bay itself, ten or twelve leagues from the lake, are the two islands of Onega and Las Monges. On the east side, near the _embouchure_, there was a fishermen's village called Barbacoa, where the Indians lived in trees to escape the floods; for, after great rains, the lands were often overflowed in broad tracts of two or three leagues. A few miles from this was the town of Gibraltar, where the best cocoa in the Indies was grown, as well as the celebrated "priests' tobacco." Beyond this twenty leagues of jurisdiction, rose mountains perpetually covered with snow, contrasting remarkably with the swampy fields and the rich tropical vegetation of the well-irrigated district below. On the other side of these mountains lay the mother city of Merida, between which, during the summer alone, mules carried merchandise to Gibraltar; the cocoa and tobacco of Merida being exchanged for Peruvian flour and the fruits of Gibraltar. Near this latter town were rich plantations and wooded districts, abounding with the tall cedars from which the Indians scooped out solid _piraguas_, or canoes, capable of carrying thirty tons, which were rigged with one large sail. The territory of Gibraltar was flat, and naturally fertile, watered by rivers and brooks, besides being artificially irrigated by small channels, necessary in the frequent droughts. Everything desirable for food and pleasant to the sight grew here in abundance, the air was filled with birds as beautiful as wandering blossoms, and the rivers teemed with many-coloured fish. But into this Indian Paradise death had entered, and these swamps were the lairs of the deadliest fevers that devastate humanity. In the rainy season the merchants left Gibraltar, just as the rich do Rome, and retired to Merida or Maracaibo to escape the pestilence that walked not merely in darkness but even in the bright noon. At six leagues from this town and its 1,500 inhabitants, ran a river navigable by vessels of fifty tons' burthen. Maracaibo itself had a spacious and secure port, and was well adapted for building vessels, owing to the abundance of timber in the neighbourhood. In the small island of Borrica were fed great numbers of goats, which were bred chiefly for their skins. In curious contradistinction to all this bustle of commerce, life, and wealth, on the south-east border of the lake lived the Bravo-Indians, a savage race, who had never been subdued by the Spaniard. They also, like the fishermen, dwelt in huts built in the branches of the mangrove trees at the very edge of the water, safe from the floods, and from the equally annoying, though less fatal, visitation of the mosquitoes. Beyond them to the west spread a dry and arid country--where nothing but cacti and stunted, bitter shrubs grew, so thorny as to be almost impassable by the traveller--waste and barren. Here the Spaniards pastured a few flocks, and the only houses were the huts of the armed shepherds who tended the lonely herds. These cattle were killed chiefly for their fat and hides, the flesh being left for the flocks of merchant birds--a sort of vulture, four or five of whom would pick an ox to the bone in a day or two. Lolonnois, arriving at one of the islands in the gulf, landed and took in provisions, not wishing to arrive at the bar till daybreak, in hopes of surprising the fort; and anchoring, out of sight of the watch-tower weighed anchor in the evening from the island of Onega, and sailed all night, but was seen by the sentinels, who immediately made signals to the fort, which discharged its cannon and announced the approach of an enemy. Mooring off the bar, Lolonnois lost no time in landing to attack the fort that guarded the very door through which he must pass. The batteries consisted of simple gabions or baskets masked with turf, and concealing fourteen pieces of cannon and 250 men, with flanking earthworks thrown up to protect the gunners. Lolonnois and Le Basque landed at a league from the fort, and advanced at the head of their men. The governor, seeing them land, had prepared an ambuscade, in hopes of attacking them at the same time in flank and rear. The Buccaneers, discovering this, got before the Spaniards, and routed them so utterly that not a single man returned to the fort, which was instantly attacked "with the usual desperation of this sort of people," says Esquemeling. The fighting continued for three hours. The Buccaneers, aiming with hunters' precision, killed so many of the Spaniards, and reduced their numbers so terribly, that the survivors could not prevent the savage swordsmen storming the embrasures, slaying half the survivors, and taking the rest prisoners. A few survivors are said by one writer to have fled in confusion into Maracaibo, crying, "The pirates will presently be here with 2,000 men." The rest of the day Lolonnois spent in destroying the fort he had captured, first signalling his ships to come in as the danger was over. His men levelled the earth ramparts, spiked the guns, buried the dead, and sent the wounded on board the fleet. The next day, very early in the morning, the ships weighed anchor and directed their course, in close-winged phalanx, like a flock of locusts, towards the doomed city of Maracaibo, now only six leagues distant. They made but slow way, in spite of all their impatience, for there was very little wind; and it was not till the next morning that they drew in sight of the town, standing pleasantly on the cool shore, with its galleries of shaded balconies, its towers and steeples--the goal to which they steered. Suspicious of ambuscades after the danger at the bar, Lolonnois put his men into canoes, and pulled to shore under protection of salvos from his great guns, which he ordered to be pointed at the woods which lined the beach. Half the men went in the canoes, and half remained on board; but these furious discharges were thrown away, the Spaniards having long since fled. To their great astonishment, the town itself was deserted. The people, remembering the horrors of a former Buccaneer descent, when Maracaibo had been "sacked to the uttermost," had escaped to Gibraltar in their boats and canoes, taking with them all the jewels and money they could carry. To the alarmed friends who received them, they said that the fort of the bar had been taken, and nothing been saved, nor any soldiers escaped. At Gibraltar they believed themselves safe, thinking the Buccaneers would pillage the unfortunate and defenceless town and then retreat over the bar. The hungry sailors, who had lived scantily for four weeks, found the deserted houses well provided with flour, bread, pork, poultry, and brandy, and with these they made good cheer. The warehouses were brimming with merchandise, the cellars were flowing with Spanish wine. The more prudent fell to plunder, the more thoughtless to revel. The former class probably embraced the older, and the latter the younger men. Each party abused the vice from which he abstained, and gave himself up without scruple to his own more favourite indulgence. But soon the man weary of wine began to plunder, and the man loaded with pieces of eight began to drink. The moment that plunder ceased, waste began, and prudence and folly alike ended the day,--poor and drunk. The commanders at once seized on the best houses, indulging their natural love of order and justice, by placing sentinels at the larger shops and warehouses. The great monastery of the Cordeliers served them as a guard-house, for a long time the abode of thieves, yet never so manifestly as now; for a long time the shrine of mammon, yet now for the first time filled by his avowed worshippers. Had the town not been deserted, that night would have heard the groans of the victim of cruelty; as it was, it echoed only with the songs and shouts of debauchery. The Buccaneer had reached his Capua, but there were no Judiths ready to slay these Holofernes in their drunken sleep. Perhaps a night surprise would have failed. These men were still the vigilant hunters and the watchful sailors; sunken rocks and lurking Spaniards, breakers and wild bulls, reefs and wild panthers had taught them never to sleep unguarded and unwatched. The next day a fresh source of plunder was opened. Lolonnois--for Le Basque's command, even by land, seems to have been secondary--sent a body of 160 men to reconnoitre the neighbouring woods, where some of the inhabitants were, it was supposed, concealed. They returned the same night, discharging their guns, and dragging after them a miserable weeping train of twenty prisoners, men, women, and children; and, besides this, a sack of 20,000 pieces of eight, and many mules, laden with household goods and merchandise. Some of the prisoners were at once racked, to make them confess where they had hidden their riches, but neither pain nor fear could extort their secret. Lolonnois, who valued not murdering, though in cold blood, ten or twelve Spaniards, drew his cutlass and hacked one of them to pieces before all his companions; and while the pale, tortured men were still writhing and groaning by his side, declared, "If you do not confess and declare where you have the rest of your goods, I will do the like to all your companions." In spite of all these horrible cruelties and inhuman threats, only one was found base enough to offer to conduct the Buccaneers to a place where the rest of the fugitives were hidden. When they arrived there, they found their coming had been announced, the riches had been removed to another place, and the Spaniards had fled. The exiles now changed their hiding-places daily, and, amid the universal danger and distrust, a father would not even rely on his own son. After fifteen days "taking stock" at Maracaibo, Lolonnois marched towards Gibraltar, intending afterwards to sack Merida, as at these places he expected to find the wealth transported from the City of the Lake. Several of his prisoners offered to serve as guides, but warned him that he would find the place strong and fortified. "No matter," cried the Buccaneer, "the better sign that it is worth taking." Gibraltar was already prepared. The inhabitants, expecting Lolonnois, had entreated aid from the governor of Merida, a stout old soldier who had served in Flanders. He sent back word, that they need take no care, for he hoped in a little while to exterminate the pirates. He had soon after this hopeful bravado entered the town at the head of 400 well-armed men, and was soon joined by an equal number of armed townsmen, whom he at once enrolled. On the side of the town towards the sea he raised with great rapidity a battery, mounting twenty guns, well protected by baskets of earth, and flanked by a smaller traverse of eight pieces. He lastly barricaded a narrow passage to the town, through which the pirates, he knew, must pass, and opened another path leading to a swampy wood that was quite impassable. Three days after leaving Maracaibo Lolonnois approached Gibraltar, and, seeing the royal standard hung out, perceived there were breakers ahead, and called a general council, one of those republican gatherings that distinguished the Buccaneer armies, and remind us of the less unanimous consultations that Xenophon describes. He confessed that the difficulty of the enterprise was great, seeing the Spaniards had had so much time to put themselves in a state of defence, and had now got together a large force and much ammunition; "but have a good courage," said he, "we must either defend ourselves like good soldiers or lose our lives with all the riches we have got. Do as I shall do, who am your captain. At other times we have fought with fewer men than we have now, and yet have overcome a greater number of enemies than can be in this town; _the more they are the more riches we shall gain_." His men all cried out, with one voice, that they would follow and obey him. "'Tis well," he replied, "but know ye, the first man who will show any fear or the least apprehension thereof, I will pistol him with my own hands." The Buccaneers cast anchor near the shore, about three-quarters of a league from the town, and the next day before sunrise landed to the number of 380 determined men, each armed with a cutlass, a brace of pistols, and thirty charges of powder and bullets. On the shore they all shook hands with one another, many for the last time, and began their march, Lolonnois exclaiming, "Come, _mes frères_, follow me and have good courage." Their guide, ignorant of what the governor of Merida had done, led them in all good faith up the barricaded way, where, to his surprise, he found the paths in one place blocked up with large trees, newly cut, and in another swamped so that the soft mud reached up above their thighs. Lolonnois, seeing the passage hopeless, attempted the narrow way, which had been carefully cleared as a trap for them. Here only six men could go abreast, and the shots of the town ploughed incessantly down the path. At the same time the Spaniards, in a small terraced battery of six guns, beat their drums and hung out their silk flags. The adventurers, harassed by the fire that they could not return, and slipping on the swampy path, grew vexed and impatient. "Courage, my brothers," cried their leader, "we must beat these fellows or die; follow me, and if I fall don't give in for that." With these words he ran full butt, with head down like a mad bull, against the Spaniards, followed by all his men, as daring but less patient than himself. Cutting down boughs they made a rude pathway, firm and sure, over the deep mud. When within about a pistol shot from the entrenchments, they began again to sink up to their knees, and the enemy's grape-shot fell thick and hot upon the impeded ranks. Many dropped, but their last words were always, "Courage, never flinch, _mes frères_, and you'll win it yet." All this time they could scarce see or hear, so blinded and deafened were they by the thunder and fire. In the midst of this discomfiture the Spaniards suddenly broke through the gloom, just as they got out of the wood and trod upon firmer ground, and drove them back by a furious onslaught, many of them being killed and wounded. They then attempted the other passage again, but without success, and finding the Spaniards would not sally out, and the gabions too heavy to tear up by hand, Lolonnois resorted to the old stratagem, so successful at Hastings, by which the very impatience of courage is made to prove fatal to an enemy. At a preconcerted signal the Buccaneers began to retreat, upon which the defenders of the battery, exclaiming, "They fly, they fly; follow, follow," sallied forth in disorder to the pursuit, shouting and firing like an undisciplined rabble. Once out of gun-shot of the batteries, the pursued turned into pursuers, and falling on the foe, sword in hand, slew about 200. Fighting their way through those who survived, the Buccaneers soon became masters of all the fortifications. Not more than 100 out of the 600 defenders remained alive, and these, as Falstaff says, would have to limp to the town-end and beg for life. The brave old governor lay dead among his foremost men. The survivors who could crawl or run hid themselves in the woods, impeded in their flight by the very obstructions they had themselves raised. The men in the battery surrendered, and obtained quarter. Neither Lolonnois nor Le Basque was scratched, but forty of their companions perished, and eighty were grievously wounded. The greater part of these died through the fevers and subsequent pestilence. 500 dead Spaniards were found, but many more had hidden themselves, to die alone in peace. The Buccaneers, now masters of Gibraltar, pulled down the Spanish colours from tower and steeple, and hoisted their own red or black flag. Making prisoners of all they met, they shut them up under guard in the chief church, where they erected a battery of great guns, in case the Spaniards should attempt to rally in a fit of despair. They then collected the dead bodies of the Spaniards, and, piling them up, scarred and gashed, in two large canoes, towed them out a quarter of a league to sea, and scuttled them. They then gathered from every house, rich or poor, all the plate, merchandise, and household stuff, which was not too hot or too heavy to carry off, as rapacious as the borderer who stopped wistfully opposite the hay-stack, wishing it had but four legs, that he might make it "gang awa' wi' the rest." The Spaniards having buried their treasure, as usual, armed parties were sent into the surrounding woods to search for buried money, and to bring in hunters and planters as prisoners to torture. Hung up by the beard, or burnt with gun-matches, the wretched sufferers were forced to confess the hiding-places. Lolonnois soon turned the fertile country into a smoking black desert, and, still insatiable for money and blood, planned an expedition over the snow mountains to Merida, but reluctantly relinquished it when he found his men unwilling to risk what they had got for the mere uncertainly of getting more, though Merida was only forty leagues distant. They had now 150 prisoners, besides 500 slaves, and many women and children, many of whom were dying daily of famine, so short were provisions already in a city in which the small army had been encamped only eighteen days. When they had spent six weeks in the town, Lolonnois determined to return, nothing now being left to pillage. Disease and famine were worse enemies than the Spaniard or the Indian, and cared for neither steel nor lead. A pestilential disease appeared in consequence of the numerous dead bodies left in the woods exposed to the wild beasts and the birds. Those that lay nearest to the walls had been strewn over with earth, the rest were left to taint the air, and slay the living--a putrid fever broke out; the Spaniards killed more of the enemy after their death than they had done in their life. The Frenchmen's wounds, already closing, began now to re-open, the sick died daily, and the strongest pined and sickened; all longed to return, even plunder grew distasteful to them without health, and once more at sea they hoped soon to be well. Men who had been revelling in the plenty of two captured cities, could not return without impatience to the restraints of a time of scarcity. Gibraltar always depending upon Maracaibo for its meat, and not well supplied with flour, was, in fact, like a miser dying for want of a loaf, while his storehouses were brimmed over with gold. The little meat and flour were quickly consumed by the Buccaneers, who left their prisoners to shift for themselves. The cattle they soon appropriated, giving the mules' and asses' flesh to those Spaniards whose hunger was strong enough to conquer their disgust. A few of the women were allowed better fare, and many who had become the mistresses of their captors were well treated by their lovers. Some of these were mere slaves, others were voluntary concubines, but the greater part had been compelled, by poverty and fear, to abandon their fathers and husbands. Lolonnois, sending four of his prisoners into the woods, demanded a ransom of 80,000 pieces of eight within two days, threatening the fugitives to burn the town to ashes if his desire was not acceded to. The Spaniards, already half-beggared, disagreed about the ransom; the bolder and the more avaricious refused to pay a piastre, the old, the timid, and the more generous preferred poverty to such a loss. Some said it would serve as a mere bribe to allure a third adventurer, and others declared it was the only means of saving Merida. While they were thus disputing the two days passed, and the debate was put an end to by the sight of flame ascending above the roofs. The city was already fired in two or three places, when the inhabitants, promising to bring the ransom, persuaded the Buccaneers to assist in quenching the flames, not, however, till the chief houses were burned, and the chief monastery was ruined. Oexmelin merely says that Lolonnois set fire to the four corners of the town, and in six hours reduced the whole to ashes. Palm-thatch and cedar walls burn quick, and the sea-breeze was there to fan the flames, while the Buccaneers were learned in the art of destruction. Lolonnois then collected his men by beat of drum, and embarked his booty. Before he sailed, he sent two of his prisoners again into the woods, to tell the inhabitants that all the prisoners in his hands would be at once put to death if the ransom were not paid. All prisoners who had not paid their ransom he took with him, even the slaves being valued at so much, and having put on board all riches that were movable, and a large sum of money as a ransom for what was immovable, the Buccaneer fleet returned to Maracaibo. The city, now partly repeopled, was thrown again into disorder, nor much lessened when three or four prisoners came to the governor, bearing a demand from Lolonnois to pay at once 30,000 pieces of eight down upon his deck, or to expect a second sack, and the fate of Gibraltar. While these terms were under concession, and the Spanish merchants were chaffering with the sailors, as a lowland farmer might have done with a highland _cateran_, a party of well-inclined Flibustiers, unwilling to waste their time, rowed on shore, and stripped the great church of its pictures, images, carvings, clocks, and bells, even to the very cross on its steeple, piously desiring to erect a chapel at Tortuga, where there was much need of spiritual instruction. The Spaniards at last agreed to pay for their ransom and liberty 20,000 piastres, 10,000 pieces of eight, and 500 cows, provided the fleet would do no further injury, and depart at once, and the blessing of Maracaibo with them. We can imagine the trembling and suppressed joy with which the people of Maracaibo must have beheld the fleet sail slowly out of their harbour, all eyes on board bent onward to the horizon and the golden future--none looking back with a moment's regret upon the misery and the black ruin left behind. How many orphans must have cursed them as they sailed, and how many widows! Three days after the embarkation, to the horror of the city, a vessel with a red flag at its masthead was seen re-entering the harbour, but only, as it soon appeared, to demand a pilot to take the fleet over the bar. On their way to Hispaniola, Lolonnois touched at the Isle de la Vacca, intending to stay there and divide the spoil. This island was inhabited by French Buccaneers, who sold the flesh of the animals they killed to vessels in want of victual. But a dispute arising here, the fleet again set out to disband the crew at Gouaves in Hispaniola. They arrived in two months, and, unlading the whole "cargazon of riches," proceeded to make a dividend of their prizes and their gains. Lolonnois and the other captains began by taking a solemn oath in public, that they had concealed and held back no portion of the spoil, but had thrown all without reserve into the public stock. The ceremony of this oath must have been an imposing sight: wild groups of half-stripped sailors, wounded men, and female captives, negroes and Indians, Spanish soldiers and mulatto fishermen, and in the middle piled bales of silks, heaps of glittering coin, and rich stuffs streaming over scattered arms and costly jewels, while, looking on, perhaps wistfully, leaning on their muskets, a few hunters fresh from the savannahs, bull's-hide sandals on their feet, and long knives hanging from their belts. After the captains had taken the oath, the common _matelots_, down even to the cabin boys, took the vow that they had given up all their spoil, to be shared equally by those who had equally ventured their lives to win it. After an exact calculation, the total value of their profits in jewels and money was discovered to be 260,000 crowns, not including 100,000 crowns' worth of church furniture and a cargo of tobacco. On the final division every man received money, silk, and linen to the value of about 100 pieces of eight. The surgeon and the wounded were as usual paid first. The slaves were then sold by auction, and their purchase-money divided among the various crews. The uncoined plate was weighed, and sold at the rate of ten pieces of eight to a pound; the jewels were sold at false and fanciful prices, and were generally undervalued, owing to the ignorance of the arbitrators. A Buccaneer always preferred coin to jewels, and jewels, as being portable, to heavy merchandise, which they often threw overboard or wantonly destroyed. The adventurers then all took the oath a second time, and proceeded to apportion the shares of such as had fallen, handing them to the _matelots_, or messmate, to forward to their heirs or nearest relations. We do not know whether, in peculiar cases, a _matelot_ became his _camarade's_ heir. The dividend over, they returned to Tortuga, amid the general rejoicing of all over whom love or cupidity had any power. "For three weeks, while their money lasted," says Oexmelin, probably an eye witness of the scene, "there was nothing but dances, feasts, and protestations of unceasing friendship." The _cabaretiers_ and the gambling-house keepers soon revenged the cruelties of Maracaibo. The proud captors of that luckless city in a few weeks were hungry beggars, basking on the quay of Tortuga, straining their eyes to catch sight of some vessel that might take them on board, and relieve them from that reaction of wretchedness. They were jeered at as mad spendthrifts by the very men who had urged them to their folly. The love of courtesans grew colder as the pieces of eight diminished, and men were refused charity by the very wretches whom their foolish generosity had lately enriched. No doubt watches were fried and bank-bills eaten as sandwiches, just as they were during the war at Portsmouth or at Dover. The prudent were those who made the money spin out a day longer than their fellows, and the wildest were those who had found out that two dice-boxes and two fiddlers ran through the burdensome money a little faster than only one dice-box and one fiddler. Some of the Buccaneers, skilful with the cards, added to their store and returned at once to France, resolved to turn merchants, and trade with the Indies they had wasted. The extravagant prices paid by these men for wine, and particularly brandy, rendered that trade a source of great profit. Just before the return of the fleet two French vessels had arrived at Tortuga laden with spirits, which at first sold at very moderate rates, but ultimately, from the great demand and the limited means of supply, reached an exorbitant price, a gallon selling for as much as four pieces of eight. The tavern-keepers and the _filles de joie_ obtained most of the money so dearly earned, and lavished it as those from whom they won it had done. Cards and dice helped those who had not struck a blow at the Spaniard, to now quietly spoil the captors. The story of Sampson and Dalilah was daily acted. Even the governor hastened to benefit by the expedition. He bought a cargo of cocoa of the Buccaneers, and shipped it at once to France in Lolonnois' vessel, giving scarcely a twentieth part of its value, and realising a profit of £120,000. The adventurers did not grudge him this bargain, as he had risked everything for Tortuga, and had suffered considerable losses. "M. D'Ogeron," says Oexmelin, with some _naïveté_, "aimait les 'honnêtes gens,' les obligeait sans cesse, et ne les lassait jamais manquer de rien." Neither Lolonnois' talent, rank, nor courage kept him further from the tavern door than the meanest of his crew. The poor drudge of a negro that served as a butt to the sailors could not give way to baser debauchery. It was the voice of the cannon alone that roused him to great actions. On land he was a Caliban, at sea a Barbarossa. In spite of his great booty, in a few short weeks he was poorer than his crew. Tortuga was to him the Circe's island that transformed him into a beast. As soon as his foot trod the plank, he became again the wily and the wise Ulysses: the first in daring or in suffering, ready to endure or to attack, above his fellow men in patience and impatience. His expenses were large, and when the prizes ceased to come in he was soon reduced to live upon his capital, and that quickly melted away in open-house feasting and entertainments given to the governor. He had been before he returned, moreover, so burdened with debts that even his prize-money could not have defrayed them. There was but one means of release--another expedition. Let the Spanish mother clasp her child closer to her breast, for she knows not how soon she may have to part with it for ever. Is there no comet that may warn an unprepared and a doomed people? Lolonnois had now acquired great repute at Tortuga. He was known to be brave, and, what is a rare combination, prudent. Under his guidance men who had forgot his previous misfortunes, thought themselves secure of gold, and without glory gold is not to be won. He needed now no entreaties to induce men to fill his ships; the difficulty was in selecting from the volunteers. Those who had before stayed behind now determined to venture; those who had once followed him were already driven by mere poverty to enlist. The privations of land were intolerable to men who had just revelled in riches--the privations of sea could be endured by the mere force of habit. The planters threw by their hoes, and quitted the hut for the cabin. The towns of Nicaragua were now to share the fate of those of Venezuela. About 700 men and six ships formed the expedition. Lolonnois himself sailed in a large "flute" which he had brought from Maracaibo with 300 men; the other adventurers embarked in five smaller vessels. Having careened and revictualled at Bayala, in Hispaniola, he steered for Matamana, a port on the south side of Cuba. He here informed his companions of the plan of the expedition, and produced an Indian of Nicaragua who had offered to serve as guide. He assured them of the riches of the country, and expressed his belief that they could surprise the place before the inhabitants had secreted their money. His proposal was received with the usual unhesitating applause. At Matamana, Lolonnois collected by force all the canoes of the tortoise fishermen, much to their grief and dismay, these poor men having no other means of subsistence but fishing. These boats he needed to take him up the channel of Nicaragua, which was too shallow for vessels of any larger burthen. While attempting to round Cape Gracias à Dios, the fleet was arrested by what the Spanish sailors call a "furious calm"--a sad and tedious imprisonment to men to whom every delay involved the success of their enterprise. In spite of all their endeavours, they were carried by the current into the Gulf of Honduras. Both wind and tide being against them, the smaller vessels--better sailers and more manageable than that of Lolonnois--made more way than he could do; but were obliged to wait for him, and stay for his orders, being quite powerless without him and his 300 men. They spent nearly a month in trying to recover their path, but all in vain, losing in two hours what they gained in two days, and, their provisions running short, put ashore to revictual. Touching at the first land they could reach, they sent their canoes up the river Xagua--their guides bringing them to the villages of the "long-eared Indians," a race tributary to Spain, whose traders bartered knives and mirrors with them for cocoa. The Buccaneers burned their huts and carried off their millet, hogs, and poultry, loading the canoes with all the food they could bring away to their impatient comerades, who determined to remain here till the unfavourable weather had passed, and burn and pillage along the whole borders of the gulf. The Indian provisions proved but scanty for so numerous a band, but were divided equally among the ships that were seeking food like locusts, and moving daily on to new pastures. A council of war was now held to discuss their position. Some were for discontinuing the expedition, since the provisions ran so short. The oldest and most experienced proposed plundering round the gulf till the bad season had passed; and this plan was decided on. Having rifled a few villages, they came to Puerto Cavallo, a place where Spanish ships frequently anchored, and which contained two storehouses full of cochineal, indigo, hides, &c., from Guatimala. There happened then to be lying in the port a Spanish vessel of twenty-four guns and sixteen patarerros. Its cargo, however, was nearly all unloaded and carried up into the interior to be exchanged in barter with the Indians. This ship was instantly seized; and Lolonnois, landing without any resistance, burned the magazines and all the houses, and made many prisoners. The Spaniards he put to the torture to induce them to confess. If any refused to answer, he pulled out their tongues, or cut them to pieces with his hanger, "desiring," says Esquemeling, "to do so to every Spaniard in the world." Many, terrified by the rack, promised to confess, really having nothing to disclose. These men were always cruelly put to death in revenge. One mulatto was bound hand and foot and thrown alive into the sea to intimidate the rest, and to induce two survivors to show the French chief the nearest road to the neighbouring town of San Pedro. For this expedition Lolonnois selected 300 men, leaving his lieutenant, Moses Vauclin, to govern in his absence, and despatching a few of his small flotilla to help him by a diversion on the coast. Before starting, he told his companions that he would never refuse to march at their head, but that he should kill with his own hand "the first who turned tail." San Pedro was only ten leagues distant. He had not proceeded three before he fell into an ambuscade. The Spaniards' favourite scheme of attack was the treacherous surprise--a mere sort of attempt at wholesale assassination--seldom successful, and always exasperating the enemy to greater cruelties. They had now entrenched themselves behind gabions in a narrow road, impassable on either side with trees and strong thickets. Lolonnois instantly striking down the guides, whether innocent or guilty, charged the enemy with desperate courage, and put them to flight after a long encounter, ending in a total rout. They killed a few Buccaneers and left many of their own men dead upon the ground. The wounded Spaniards, being first questioned as to the distance from San Pedro, and the best way to get there, were instantly beheaded. The prisoners informed him that some runaway slaves, escaped from Porto Cavallo, had told them of the intended attack on San Pedro. Determined to prevent this, they had planned the ambuscade, and two other still stronger earthworks which awaited him further on. To prevent connivance, or any possible treachery, Lolonnois then had the Spaniards brought before him one by one, and demanded of each in turn if there was no means of getting into another and less guarded road. On their each denying that there was, he grew frenzied and almost mad at the thoughts of such inevitable danger, and had them all murdered but two; and then, in ungovernable passion, he ripped open with his cutlass the breast of one of these survivors, who was bound to a tree. Esquemeling asserts that he even tore out his heart and gnawed it "like a ravenous wolf," swearing and shouting that he would serve them all alike if they did not show him another way. The miserable survivor, willing to save his life at any risk, his memory or invention quickened by the imminent danger, conducted him into another path, but so bad a one that Lolonnois preferred to return to the old one in spite of all its perils, so difficult, slow, and laborious was the march. He now seems to have grown almost fevered with rage, anxiety, and vexation. "Mon Dieu," he growled, "les Espagnols me le payeront," and he cursed the delay that kept him from the enemy. There is no doubt that in these men a fanatical and almost superstitious hatred of the enemy had sprung up, inflamed by mutual cruelties, for forgiveness was not the chief virtue of the victorious Spaniard. To the Buccaneer the Spaniard seemed cruel, cowardly, treacherous, and degraded; to the Spaniard the Buccaneer seemed a monster scarcely human--bloody, voluptuous, faithless, and rapacious. That same evening the chief fell into a second ambuscade, which, says Esquemeling, "he assaulted with such horrible fury" that in less than an hour's time he routed the Spaniards and killed the greater part of them, the rest flying to the third ambush, which was planted about two leagues from the town. The Spaniards had thought, by these repeated attacks, to destroy the enemy piecemeal, and for this object, which they did not attain, frittered their forces into small and useless detachments. Lolonnois and his people, weary with fighting and marching, and half-fainting with hunger and thirst, lay down in the wood that night, and slept till the morning, the _matelots_ keeping good watch and ward, and guarding their sleeping companions. At daybreak they resumed their journey, with confidence increased by the clear light and with bodies invigorated by rest. The third ambuscade was stronger and more advantageously placed than even the two preceding. They attacked it with showers of fire-balls, and drove out the enemy, slaying without mercy, and giving no quarter. "No quarter, no quarter," cried their ferocious leader, still thirsty for human blood, when they would have stayed their hands, from exhaustion rather than from pity. "The more we kill here, the less we shall meet in the town," was his war-cry. Very few of the enemy escaped to San Pedro, the greater part being either slain or wounded. Before they ventured to make the final attack, the Buccaneers rested to look to their arms and prepare their ammunition. In vain they attempted to discover a second approach. There was but one, and that was well barricaded, and planted all round with thorny shrubs, which the best shod traveller could not pass, much less barefooted men, clad only in a shirt and drawers. These thorns, Oexmelin says, were more dangerous than those crow's-feet used in Europe to annoy cavalry. Lolonnois, seeing that no other way was left, and that delay would imply fear in his own men, and excite hope in the enemy, resolved to storm the works, in spite of the rage and despair of a well-armed and superior force, sheltered from shot and commanding his approach. "The Spaniards," says Esquemeling, "posted behind the said defences, seeing the pirates come, began to ply them with their great guns; but these, perceiving them ready to fire, used to stoop down, and then the shot was made to fall upon the defendants with fire-balls and naked swords, killing many of the town." Driven back for a time, they renewed the attack with fewer men; husbanding their shot, for they were now short of powder; never shooting at a long distance; and seldom firing but with great deliberation when an enemy's head appeared above the rampart; and occasionally giving a general discharge, in which nearly every bullet killed an enemy. Several times the Buccaneers advanced to the very mouths of the guns, and, throwing down fire-balls into the works, leaped after them, sword in hand, through the embrasures; but only to be again driven back. This obstinate combat, so eager on both sides, had lasted about four hours, and night was fast approaching, when Lolonnois, ordering a last furious attack, put the now weakened Spaniards to flight, a great number of them being killed as soon as they turned their backs. The citizens then hung out a white flag, and, coming to a parley, agreed to surrender the town on condition of receiving two hours' respite. During this time, Lolonnois found that he had lost about thirty men, ten more being wounded. This demand of two hours was employed by the towns-people in loading themselves with their riches and preparing for flight--the Buccaneers virtuously abstaining from any molestation till the time had duly expired, and then pursuing the fugitives and plundering them of every _maravedi_. But neither their self-denial nor their vigilance was well rewarded, for fortune gave them nothing but a few leather sacks full of indigo, the rest, even in that short time, having been buried or destroyed--a disappointment which, we think, no reasonable person can regret. Lolonnois had particularly ordered that not only all the goods should be seized, but that every fugitive should be made prisoner. The Buccaneer chief, having stayed a few days at San Pedro, and "committed most horrid insolences," was anxious to send for a new reinforcement, and attack the town of Guatimala--a place a long way distant, and defended by 400 men. On his men as usual refusing to accede to an apparently rash project, Lolonnois contented himself by pillaging San Pedro, intending to impress a recollection of his visit upon the grateful inhabitants by burning their town. He obtained no great booty, for the inhabitants were a poor people, trading in nothing but dyes. If he had chosen to carry away their stores of indigo, he might have realised more than 40,000 crowns; but the Buccaneers cared for nothing but coin and bullion, and were too ignorant, too lazy, and too improvident to stop their debauches by loading their vessels with a perishable cargo of uncertain value. Having remained now eighteen days in San Pedro without obtaining much, for the West Indian Spaniard had already learned to hide as skilfully as the Hindoo ryot, Lolonnois called together his prisoners, and demanded from them a ransom as the condition of sparing their town. They doggedly answered, with all the insolence of despair, that he had taken from them all they had, and that they had nothing more to give; that they could not coin without gold, and that, as far as they went, he might do what he liked to the town. Lolonnois then reduced the town to ashes, and, marching to the sea-side to rejoin his companions, found that they had been employing their time, innocently and usefully, in capturing the fishing-boats of Guatimala. Some Indians, newly taken, informed him that a _hourque_, a vessel of 800 tons, bringing goods from Spain to the Honduras, was then lying in the great river of Guatimala. Resolving to careen and victual at the islands on the other side of the gulf, they left two canoes at the mouth of the river to give notice when the vessel should venture forth. The time spent in thus watching outside the covert, they devoted to turtle fishing, dividing themselves into parties, each having his own station to prevent disputes. Their nets they made of the bark of the macoa tree; a natural pitch or bitumen for their boats they found in fused heaps upon the shore. The formation of this pitch, or "wax," as Esquemeling calls it, the sailors attributed to wild bees; the hollow trees in which they built being torn down by storms and swept down into the sea. The rest of their time--which never seems to have been wearisome, unless the subsequent mutiny indicates it, for these men had the tenacity of a slot-hound in the pursuit of blood--was spent in cruises among those Indians of the coast of Yucatan, who seek for amber on the shore. These tribes were the willing serfs of Spain, having served them without resistance for a full century. The Spaniards had, as they believed, converted the whole nation to Christianity by sending a priest to them once a-week, but, on their sudden return to idolatry, had begun to persecute them, angry at their own failure. According to the Buccaneers' account, these Indian chiefs worshipped each a peculiar spirit, to whom they offered sacrifices of fire, burning incense of sweet-scented gums. They had a singular custom of carrying their new-born children into their temples, and leaving them for a night in a hole filled with wood-ashes, generally in an open place, untended, and where wild beasts could enter. Leaving the child here they found in the morning the foot-prints of some wild beast on the ashes. To this animal, whatever it might be, jaguar, snake, or cayman, they dedicated the child, whose patron god it became. To this animal the child prayed for vengeance against its enemies, and to it he offered sacrifices. Their marriages were accompanied by a very beautiful and simple ceremony. A young man, having satisfied his intended bride's father as to his fitness to manage a plantation, was presented with a bow and arrow. He then visits the maiden, and puts on her head a wreath of green leaves and sweet-smelling flowers, taking off the crown usually worn by virgins. A meeting of her relations is then called, the maize juice is drunk, and the day after marriage the bride's garland is torn to pieces with cries and lamentations. In these islands the Buccaneers found canoes of the Aregues Indians, which must have drifted 600 leagues. They had remained turtle-fishing and amber-seeking about three months, when the welcome tidings came that the enemy's vessel had ventured out. All hands were now employed in preparing the careening ships. It was, however, at last agreed to wait for its return, when, as they expected, it would not only contain merchandise but money. They therefore sent their canoes to observe her motions, and, hearing of the ambuscade, the Spaniards returned to port. Lolonnois, as weary of delay as a greyhound is vexed by a hare's repeated doubling, determined to do what Mahomet did when the mountain would not go to him; since the Spaniards would not come to him, he went himself to the Spaniards. Informed of their approach by spies, Indians or fishermen, the vessel was prepared to receive him. The decks were cleared, the boarding-nettings up, and the guns double-shotted. The Spaniard carried fifty-six pieces of cannon, and the crew were well provided with hand grenades, torches, fusees, and fire-balls, especially on the quarter-deck and bows, and a crew of some 130 men stood armed and threatening at their quarters. But Lolonnois cared for none of these things, and the rich cargo shone, to his eye, through the ship's transparent sides. With his small craft of twenty-two guns, with a single fly-boat as his only ally, he boldly attacked the enemy, but was at first beaten off. To the Buccaneer a slight check was almost a certain precursor of victory; waiting till about sixty of the Spanish sailors had fallen from the fire of his deadly musketry, when their courage slackened, and the smoke of their powder lay in a dark mist round the bulwarks, hiding his movements, he boarded with four canoes, well manned. In spite of the brave defence, the Buccaneers fought with such fury that they forced the Spaniards to surrender. Lolonnois then sent his boats up the river to secure a small patache, which they knew lay near at hand, laden with plate, indigo, and cochineal. But the inhabitants, alarmed at the capture of the larger vessel, swept away from under their very eyes, saved the patache by preventing her departure. The booty of the prize was much less than was expected, the vessel being already almost entirely unladen. Its cargo consisted of iron and paper, and it still contained 20,000 reams of paper, and 100 tons of iron bars, which had served as ballast. The few bales of merchandise were nothing but linens, serges, and cloth, thread, and a few jars of wine. In the return cargo there would have been at least a million in specie. These heterogeneous articles were of no use to men who wanted nothing but coin or jewels, lead or powder. Dividing the paper, they used it for napkins, and other useless trifles, and several jars of almond and olive-oil were wasted in the same reckless manner. Having now accomplished their purpose, without much return for their three months' patience, Lolonnois called a general council of the fleet, and declared his intention of going to Guatimala. Upon this announcement a division arose in the assembly, and the hoarse murmurs of a coming tempest were heard around the speaker. Many of the adventurers, new to the trade, could no longer conceal their weariness and their disappointment. They had set sail from Tortuga with the feeling with which a country boy comes to London. They had believed that pieces of eight grew on the trees like pears, and had overlooked the dragons that guarded the Hesperian trees. Having seen their predecessors return home laden with the plunder of Maracaibo, many had overlooked the toil and dangers by which it was won, in the sight of the joy and prodigality with which it was lavished; they had seen only the rich pearls, and forgotten the stormy seas from which they had been gathered. They were weary of the hardships, and mutinous for want of food. The mere seeker for gold could not endure what was submitted to by those who were desirous of earning distinction. The older hands laughed at their pinings, derided their complaints, and swore that they would rather die and starve there, than return home with empty purses, to be the scorn and laughing-stock of all Hispaniola. The majority of the experienced men, foreseeing that the voyage to Nicaragua would not succeed, and was "little to their purpose," separated from Lolonnois, and set sail secretly in the swift sailing vessel that Moses Vauclin had captured in the port of Cavallo, and which he now commanded, boasting, with reason, that it was the swiftest sailing vessel that had been seen in the West Indies for fifty years. With Moses Vauclin went Pierre le Picard, who, seeing others desert Lolonnois, resolved to do the same. Steering homewards, the fugitives coasted along the whole continent till they came to Costa Rica, where they landed a good party, marched up to Veraguas, and burnt the town, pillaging the Spaniards, who made a stout resistance, carrying off a few prisoners, and obtaining a scanty booty of some seven or eight pounds' worth of gold, which their slaves washed from the mud of the rivers. Alarmed at the multitude of Spaniards that began to gather round them, the marauders abandoned their design of attacking the town of Nata, on the south sea-coast, although many rich merchants lived there, whose slaves worked in the gold-washings of Veraguas. Returning to Tortuga, these undisciplined men, impatient of poverty, united themselves under the flag of a noble adventurer, the Chevalier du Plessis, who had just arrived in the Indies, poor and proud, and prepared to cruise against the Spaniard in those seas. Vauclin being an experienced pilot, well acquainted with the turtle islands, and every key and reef the surf washed from California to Cape Horn, was taken into favour by the titled privateersman, who promised him the first prize he captured, if he would sail in his company. But a serious difficulty arose in the execution of this liberal promise, for the Chevalier was soon after shot through the head while grappling with a Spanish ship of thirty-six guns, and Moses was elected captain in his stead. In his first cruise, the brave deserter was fortunate enough to take a cocoa vessel from the Havannah, with a cargo valued at 150,000 livres. During this time, Lolonnois and his men remained alone and deserted in the gulf of Honduras. He was now in some distress, short of provisions, and in a vessel too "great to get out at the reflux of those seas." His 300 men had no food but that which they contrived to kill daily on shore, living chiefly on the flesh of parrots and monkeys. By day they generally fished or hunted, by night, taking advantage of the land breeze, they sailed painfully on till they rounded Cape Gracias à Dios, and slowly the Pearl Islands hove in sight. Staunch and inexorable, Lolonnois, amid all the tedium of this enervating idleness, still nourished the project of making a swoop down upon Nicaragua, intending to leave his cumbrous vessel behind, and row up the river St. John in canoes, until he reached the lake. But the same reason that made his vessel lag behind those of his companions, now drove it ashore in a shallow near Cape Gracias, where it drew too much water to be extricated. In vain he unloaded his guns and iron, and used every means that experience and ingenuity could suggest to lighten the ship, and float her again into deep water. Always firm and resolute, Lolonnois at once determined to break her to pieces on the sand-shoal, and with her planks and nails to construct a boat. His men, with perfect _sang froid_, not even impatient at the loss, much less afraid of danger, escaping to land, began to build Indian _ajoupas_, or huts. Lolonnois, accustomed to such reverses, concealed his chagrin, if he even felt any. Regardless of himself, he adjured his men to lose no courage, for he knew of a means of escape, and, what was more, a way to make their fortune yet, before they returned to Tortuga. Prepared for every emergency, and even for the longest delay, part of the crew were at once employed in planting peas and other vegetables, the remainder in fishing and hunting, all but the few who worked busily at the boat in which Nicaragua was to be visited. In spite of desertion, failure, wreck, and famine, Lolonnois held on to the plan of the expedition, which he deemed cowardly and shameful to abandon. The men, confident in the sagacity and courage of their leader, surrendered themselves like children to his guidance. The Indians of the Perlas Islands, on which they had struck, were a fierce and untamable race, strong and agile, swift as horses, hardy divers, brave but cruel, warlike, and man-eaters. Their wooden clubs were jagged with crocodiles' teeth; they had no bows or arrows, but used lances a fathom and a-half long. They built no huts, and lived on fruits grown in plantations cleared from the forest. Fishers and swimmers, they were so dexterous as to be able to bring up with a rope an anchor of 600 cwt. from a rock, a feat which Esquemeling himself saw a few of them perform. The seamen in vain attempted to propitiate these wild freemen, to serve them as guides or hunters. At last, finding a great number together, and pursuing the fugitives, they tracked five men and four women to a cave, and took much pains to propitiate them. The captives remaining obstinately silent, as if from fear, in spite of the food that was given them, were dismissed with presents of knives and beads. They left, promising to return; "but soon forgot their _benefactors_," says Esquemeling, disgustfully. The sailors believed that at night all the Indians swam to a neighbouring island, as they never saw either boat or Indian again. Some time before this the Frenchmen's terror had been excited by the discovery that these Indians were cannibals. Two Buccaneers, a Frenchman and a Spaniard, had straggled into the woods in search of game. Pursued by a troop of savages, the latter, after a desperate struggle, was captured, and heard of no more; the former, the swifter footed of the two, escaped. A few days after, an armed party of a dozen Flibustiers, led by this survivor, went into the same part of the forest to see if they could find any traces of the Indian encampment. Near the place where the Spaniard had fallen into the ambush they discovered the ashes of a fire, still warm, and among the embers some human bones, well scraped, and a white man's hand with two fingers half roasted, but still unconsumed. For six months, till the long-boat was completed, the Buccaneers lived on Spanish wheat, bananas, and on the fruits and green crops which they had sown on landing. Their bread they baked in portable ovens saved from the wreck. Lolonnois now once more prepared to carry out his unabandoned project. With part of his crew he resolved to row up the river of Nicaragua, to capture some canoes, and return to fetch away those whom the new boat would not hold. The men cast lots for the choice of sailing with him. He took about one-half of the shipwrecked crew with him, part in the long-boat and part in a skiff which had been saved when the larger vessel drove on the bank. They arrived in a few days at Desaguadera, near Nicaragua, but attacked on the beach by an overpowering number of Spaniards and Indians, they were driven back to their boats, with the loss of many men, and escaped with difficulty, beaten and desponding. Lolonnois, now fairly at bay with fortune, still resolved neither to return to Tortuga ragged and penniless, nor to rejoin his comerades till he had obtained a sufficient number of canoes to embark his companions. In order the better to obtain provisions he divided his men into two bands. The one party proceeded to the Cape Gracias à Dios, where they were well received; the other sailed to Boca del Toro, on the coast of Carthagena, where adventurers frequently repaired for turtle and other provisions, intending to embark in the first friendly vessel that should arrive. Nicaragua was still destined to remain unscathed. "God Almighty," says Esquemeling, who writes with some bitterness, and probably much hypocrisy, "the time of His divine justice being now come, had appointed the Indians of Darien to be the instruments and executioners thereof." Landing at a place called the La Pointe à Diegue to obtain fresh water, Lolonnois and his men, weary of "wave, and wind, and oar," drew their canoes to land, and threw up entrenchments, knowing that they were now in the neighbourhood of the Bravo Indians, the most savage race known on the mainland--as cruel as sharks, and as numerous and greedy of blood as the vultures. He himself and a few others, passing the river, near the Gulf of Darien, landed in order to sack a town and obtain provisions. Here this modern Ulysses found a termination to his troubles and his life, for, being taken prisoner by the Indians, he was killed, chopped to pieces, and devoured. Many of his companions were also burnt alive, and but a few escaped to Tortuga, by the detail of their horrors to check for a few days the love of adventure in the minds of its restless and impetuous adventurers. Esquemeling, or his English translator--who generally considers it necessary to conclude his chapters with a sanctimonious moral, a snuffle of the nose, and a lifting up of the eyes--says, "Hither Lolonnois came (brought by his evil conscience that cried for punishment), thinking to act his cruelties; but the Indians, within a few days after his arrival, took him prisoner, throwing his body limb by limb into the fire, and his ashes into the air (_virtuous indignation_), that no trace or memory might remain of such an infamous, inhuman creature.... Thus ends the history, the life, and the miserable death of that infernal wretch, Lolonnois, who, full of horrid, execrable, and enormous deeds, and debtor to so much innocent blood, died by cruel and butcherly hands, such as his own were in the course of his life." Towards the conclusion of his malediction Esquemeling's wrath unfortunately gets much the better of his grammar. The men left behind in the island de las Perlas, after long waiting for their companions--who had only escaped Scylla to run into Charybdis--were taken off by an English adventurer, who, collecting a body of 500 men, resolved on an expedition to the mainland. Ascending the river Moustique, near Cape Gracias, he sailed on, expecting to find some inlet to the lake of Nicaragua, round which Lolonnois' men still hovered. The expedition started full of hope, for the shipwrecked men were rejoiced at ending ten months of suffering, anxiety, and privation. The result was worse than mere disappointment. In fifteen days they reached no Spanish town, but only some poor Indian villages, which they found deserted by the natives, who, aware of their coming, had fled, carrying off all the produce of their plantations. These they burnt in their rage, and marched recklessly onwards. They had carried no provision with them, expecting to find everywhere sufficient; and, to render their condition worse, had brought all their 500 men, except five or six who were left to guard each vessel. "These their hopes," says Esquemeling--turning up as usual the whites of his eyes--who looks with great contempt on all unsuccessful attempts at thieving, "were found totally vain, _as not being grounded_." In a few days the hope of plunder, which had first animated them, grew clouded by despondency. Scarcity rapidly became want, and they were reduced to such extreme necessity and hunger that they gathered the plants that grew on the river's bank for food. In a fortnight their courage and vigour had entirely gone; their hearts sank, and their bodies were wasted by famine. Leaving the river they took to the woods, seeking for Indian villages where they might obtain food. Ranging up and down the woods for some days in a fruitless search, they returned to the river, now their only guide, and struck back towards the point of coast where their ships lay. In this laborious journey they were reduced to much extremity--eating their shoes, their leather belts, and the very sheaths of their knives and swords. They grew at last so ravenous as to resolve to kill and devour the first Indian they could meet; but they could not obtain one either for food or as a guide. Some fell sick, and, fainting by the wayside, were left to perish. Many were killed and eaten by the Indians, and others died of starvation. At last they reached the shore, and, finding some comfort and relief to their present miseries, at once set sail to encounter more. After remaining some time on land, they re-embarked, but a quarrel arising between the French and English Buccaneers, who seldom kept long friends, they separated into small parties, and engaged in fresh expeditions. CHAPTER VI. ALEXANDRE BRAS-DE-FER, AND MONTBARS THE EXTERMINATOR. Bras-de-Fer compared to Alexander the Great--His adventures and stratagems--Montbars--Anecdotes of his childhood--Goes to sea--His first fight--Meets and joins the Buccaneers--Defeats the Spanish Fifties--His uncle killed--His revenge--The negro vessel--Adam and Anne le Roux plunder Santiago. We now come to a class of Buccaneers who lived at we scarcely know what period, although they were probably contemporaries of Oexmelin. Their adventures, though on a narrower scale, are perhaps more interesting than those that had subsequently taken place, and are valuable as illustrations of manners. Oexmelin relates, in his usual shrewd and vivacious manner, the singular exploits of Alexandre Bras-de-Fer, a French adventurer, with whom he was acquainted, and who, unlike his contemporaries, never joined in large expeditions, preferring the promptitude of a single swift cruiser, with none to share his risks or subtract from his booty. His life seems to have been crowded with romantic and strange incidents. His character appears to have been a strange combination of bravery and chivalry, a love of rapine, and a fantastic vanity. Oexmelin says naïvely, that this modern Alexander was as great a man among the adventurers of Tortuga as the ancient Alexander was among the conquerors of the East. Nor does he see much difference between the two worthies, except that the Macedonian was the adventurer upon the larger scale. Our Alexandre was vigorous in body and handsome in feature--so, at least, vouches Oexmelin, who, a surgeon by profession, once cured him of a severe wound that he had received--a cure which, if Alexandre had been generous (which he was not, in this instance at least), might have made the doctor's fortune. Bras-de-Fer displayed as great judgment in the conception of his enterprises as he did courage in the carrying them out. His head and hand worked well together, and he seldom had to fight his way out of dangers into which his own incautiousness had led him. The vessel which he commanded he called the _Phoenix_, because it was of such a unique and peculiar structure that it was said to be among vessels what the phoenix was fabled to be among birds. Alexandre always went alone, in preference to crowding in a fleet. His pride or his prudence may have given him a fondness for solitary cruises, for the _Phoenix_ was a bird of prey. A picked crew and a single swift vessel had many advantages over a rebellious flotilla--and subordinate captains were often mutinous if not treacherous. If solitude increased his risk, it also increased his probability of success. Oexmelin, the only writer who mentions Alexandre, relates but one of his adventures, which he took down, as he tells us, from the hero's own lips. The rest of his exploits he suppresses, either from a fear of being tedious or a dread of being considered a mere romancer. On the occasion of which he speaks, Alexandre was bound upon an expedition of great consequence--which, however, as it did not succeed, the narrator, with a wise modesty, does not think worth mentioning. After lying some time imprisoned in a tedious calm, his prayers for a change of weather were answered by a great storm, that blew up the sea into mountains--wind and fire seeming to struggle together in the air for the possession of the helpless ship and its pale crew. The furious thunder drowned the very roar of the sea, and the masts soon went by the board. The lightning, striking its burning arrows through the deck, set fire to the powder-magazine, and blew up the part of the vessel in which it was stored. Half of the crew were hurled into the air, and were killed before they reached the boiling sea that eagerly waited for their fall. The remainder of the crew, finding the vessel going down by the head, took to swimming, and soon reached dry land: Alexandre--strong and brawny, brave, but desirous of life, and always awake to the means of its preservation--by no means the last, setting an example at once of prudence, coolness, and decision. On shaking the brine from their limbs and looking around, the wrecked men found that they had been thrown upon a tract of land as much to be dreaded by the Buccaneer as the realm of Polyphemus was by the wise Ulysses. They stood upon an island near the Boca del Drago (Dragon's Mouth), inhabited by a tribe of Indians, fierce and cruel cannibals. Remaining for some time upon the shore, they exerted themselves in recovering what they could from the scorched driftings of the wreck. Amongst other things they saved--what was more valuable than food, because they presented the means of saving their lives for the present and for the future--a number of their hunters' muskets, sufficient to arm all their number, together with a quantity of powder and lead for bullets. Without either of the three requisites the other two had been useless. They now gathered courage from the possibility of escape, and determined to secure themselves from the Indians, reconnoitre the place for fear of surprise, and after that remain patiently encamped till some friendly vessel should arrive. One day, while some of the band were smoking, singing, and talking, their past dangers already half forgotten in the desire of escaping the present by encountering fresh in the future, the sentinels on the look-out hill gave the signal of an approaching vessel. On all rushing to the spot, the keener eyes detected a large ship, dark against the grey horizon. It presently discharged a gun at the shore, and in the direction in which they stood. Preparing for the worst, Alexandre and his men hid themselves in a wooded hollow and held a council of war. Some were of opinion that they should wait for the stranger's arrival, and then quietly beg the captain to take them on board. The more impatient and lawless, less pacific in such an emergency, believed that such a plan would lead, if the vessel proved, as it probably would, a Spaniard, to their all being taken prisoners, and at once strung from the yard-arm, without inquiry, as Frenchmen and pirates. Bras-de-Fer spoke last, and crushed all opposition by his voice and gesture. He was for war to the death, and escape at any risk. Better Spanish rope than Indian fire, better pistol shot than starvation. Quick in decision and firm in execution, he had at once determined not merely to stand on the defensive, but at all risks to assume the aggressive. The adventurers yielded as if an angel had spoken, for Alexandre had more than the usual ascendancy of a leader over them. Both his mind and body were of a more athletic bulk and iron mould. He could dare and suffer more. His active and his passive, his moral and physical courage, were greater than theirs. They loved him because he shared their dangers, and did not humiliate them by the assumption of his real superiority. He wore the crown, but he was not always dazzling their eyes with its oppressive glitter. They respected him, because he could control both his own passions and those of the men whom he led to victory and never to defeat. The success of his victories he doubled by the prudence with which they were followed up, and the skill with which he conducted a retreat rendered his very defeats in themselves successes. The vessel, which proved to be a Spanish merchant ship, with war equipments, approached nearer, standing off and on, attracted by the fruit and flowers whose perfume spread over the level sea, and allured by that fragrance, a sure proof of the existence of good water not far from the shore. The boats were lowered, and a well-armed party landed with much caution. The captain marched at their head, followed by his best soldiers, dreading an ambuscade of the Indians of that coast, who were known to be warlike and treacherous, but not suspecting the Buccaneers, who kept themselves in the wood, ready to swoop down upon their prey, like the kite upon the dovecote. Already well acquainted with the paths and foot-tracks, Alexandre's men crept quietly through the trees, which grew thick and dark, and, defiling by secret avenues, surrounded the principal approach by which the Spaniards had already entered, in good order and on the alert, but with apprehensions already subsiding. The adventurers being very inferior in number and scantily armed, kept themselves hidden, waiting for chance to give them some momentary advantage. When the enemy was well encircled in the defile, mistaking perhaps the lighted matches for fire-flies among the branches, the French suddenly opened a murderous fire upon the soldiers, who found themselves girt by a belt of flame, coming from they knew not where. A pilgrim seeing a volcano opening at his feet could not be more astonished. The Spaniards, seeing no enemies to aim at, withheld their fire, thinking that the Indians were burning the forest. The absence of arrows, and the report of muskets, convinced them more deadly enemies awaited them, and that Europeans and not Indians were the preparers of the ambush. With much promptitude, instead of flying in a foolish headlong rout, they threw themselves upon their faces; and the captain gave the word of command not to fire till the enemy came in sight, being ignorant yet of their number and their nation. The adventurers looked through the loopholes which they had cut in the thick underwood for the passage of their firearms, to see what effect their volley had produced, the smoke now clearing away and permitting them to see more clearly. To their astonishment they could see no one; the enemy had vanished, as if blown to pieces by the fire. They began to think that they had retreated, although they had heard no sound of their retreat; they could scarcely believe that they were all dead. Alexandre's impatience soon decided the question; determined to conquer, he chafed at the delay and mystery. His resolution was soon made. He left his ambush and broke out from the wood into the open. The mystery was quickly solved, for he was instantly attacked by the Spaniards, who, when they saw him break cover, sprang up to their feet, with a shout, as swift as the foes of Cadmus. Alexandre, retreating for a moment to make his spring the surer, leaped upon the hostile captain and aimed a blow at his head with his sabre, which was warded off by a large scull-cap, from which the steel glanced. Bras-de-Fer was about to repeat his blow with better effect, when his foot caught in a root and he fell. Closely pressed by his antagonist, and requiring all his skill to save his life, rising up, with his left hand and with his strong right arm, he struck the uplifted sabre from the hand of his enemy. This lucky blow of a defenceless man gave Alexandre time to leap up and call the adventurers, who had not then left the ambush, and were now pouring out on every side, pressing the enemy in the rear and on the flank. Having made a great carnage among the Spaniards, the Flibustiers, at a signal from Alexandre, closed in, and, bearing down upon the craven and terrified foe sword in hand, slew them to a man, taking special care that not a single one should escape, for fear of spreading an alarm. The Spanish crew remaining to keep guard in the vessel, had heard the sound of musketry, and at once supposed that their people had fallen in with some hostile Indians, but knowing that their troops were brave and numerous, and believing they could easily cut a few savages to pieces, they sent no reinforcement, but contented themselves by discharging a noisy broadside to turn the scale of the supposed battle, and increase the terror of the fugitives. On the other hand, the victorious adventurers lost no time in following up their ambush by an ingenious stratagem. They stripped the dead, and arrayed themselves in their dress and arms. They then collected a quantity of their own Indian arrows, which they had previously taken from savages which they had killed. Then pulling their broad-brimmed Panama hats over their eyes (even the captain's, with a red gash through it), and shouldering their arms, imitating the Spanish march, and uttering shouts of "victory, victory," proceeded to the shore at the point nearest the vessel. The guards on board, seeing their supposed companions returned so soon, victorious, laden with spoil, and each one carrying a sheaf of arrows, received them with open arms as they clambered up by the main-chains. Before they could recover from their astonishment, the Buccaneers were masters of the vessel. There was scarcely any struggle, for only the sailors and a few marines had been left on board. The surprise was complete and sudden, and the most watchful might be pardoned for being deluded by such an artifice. The adventurers found the vessel laden with costly merchandise, and soon started with it upon a trip of a very different nature from that for which it had been first intended. Oexmelin laments that in many other adventures which Alexandre told him, he found that he passed too lightly over his own exploits, and attributed all the glory to the courage of his companions. But when his comerades related the story, they were not so generous to him as he had been to them, and, either from envy or shame, suppressed many of his noblest actions. He concludes his sketch of the two Alexanders with incomparable _naïveté_ in the following manner: "Au reste, je ne prétends pas que la comparaison soit toute-à-fait juste, car s'il y a quelque rapport, _il y a encore plus de différence_. En effet il étoit aussi brave que téméraire, et lui étoit brave que prudent. Alexandre aymoit le vin, et lui l'eau-de-vie. Aussi Alexandre fuyoit les femmes par grandeur d'âme, et luy les cherchoit par tendresse de coeur; et pour preuve de ce que je dis il s'en trouve une assez belle dans le vaisseau dont j'ay parlé, qu'il préféra à tout l'avantage du butin." "To conclude: if I have compared him to the Great Alexander, I do not pretend that the comparison is altogether just; for, if there are some points of resemblance, there are many more of difference. Of a truth, the one Alexander was as brave as he was headstrong, the other as brave as he was prudent; the one loved wine, and the other brandy; the one fled from women through real greatness of heart, the other sought them from a natural tenderness of soul; and, as a proof of what I say, he met a beautiful woman in the vessel of which I have spoken, whom he valued more than all the other spoil." Providence, a French moral philosopher ventures to suggest, raised up the Buccaneers to revenge on the Spaniards all the sufferings and injustices of the Indians. The Spaniard was the scourge of the Indian, and the Buccaneer the scourge of the Spaniard. Lolonnois and Montbars are always considered as equal claimants for the hateful pre-eminence of being the most ferocious of the whole Buccaneer brotherhood, considering them from their origin to their extinction. But the sovereignty of blood must be at once awarded to Lolonnois. Montbars seldom killed a Spaniard who begged for mercy, while Lolonnois delighted to spurn them from his feet, and slew all he could without pity, or even regard for ransom. It was from the very lips of Lolonnois that Oexmelin was informed that Montbars was sprung from one of the best families in Languedoc. He was well educated, but soon disregarded every other study to practise martial exercise, and particularly shooting. These warlike sports he pursued with a concentrated, unremitting eagerness, approaching insanity. Even as a boy, when firing with his cross-bow, he said he only wished to shoot well that he might know how to kill a Spaniard. His mind had already become filled with a generous but cruel determination, which grew rapidly into monomania. The animal force of a strong but ill-balanced mind all grew to this point, and his thoughts by day, and his dreams by night, became but a reiteration and reblending of the one master passion. No one ever became his confidant, but the following is the general explanation given of the deeds of his after life. It is said that, in his early childhood, Montbars had read of the almost incredible cruelties practised by the Spaniards during the conquest of America. In the Antilles, they had exhibited the horrors of the Inquisition in broad daylight. Fanaticism, avarice, and ambition had ruled like a trinity of devils over the beautiful regions, desolated and plague-smitten; whole nations had become extinct, and the name of Christ was polluted into the mere cypher of an armed and aggressive commerce. These books had impressed the gloomy boy with a deep, absorbing, fanatical hatred of the conquerors, and a fierce pity for the conquered. He believed himself marked out by God as the Gideon sent to their relief. Dreams of riches and gratified ambition spurred him unconsciously to the task. He thought and dreamed of nothing but the murdered Indians. He inquired eagerly from travellers for news from America, and testified prodigious and ungovernable joy when he heard that the Spaniards had been defeated by the Caribs or the Bravos. He indeed knew by heart every deed of atrocity that history recorded of his enemies, and would dilate on each one with a rude and impatient eloquence. The following story he was frequently accustomed to relate, and to gloat over with a look that indicated a mind capable of even greater cruelty, if once led away by a fanatic spirit of retaliation. A Spaniard, the story ran, was once upon a time appointed governor of an Indian province, which was inhabited by a fierce and warlike race of savages. He proved a cruel governor, unforgiving in his resentments, and insatiable in his avarice. The Indians, unable any longer to endure either his barbarities or his exactions, seized him, and, showing him gold, told him that they had at last been able, by great good luck, to find enough to satisfy his demands. They then held him firm, and melting the ore, poured it down his throat till he expired in torments under their hands. On one occasion, Montbars openly showed that his reason was somewhat disturbed, and that, on the one subject of his thoughts, he had ceased to be able to reflect calmly. While a boy, he had to take part in a comedy which was to be acted by himself and the fellow-students of the college, for his friends either ignored or disregarded his dreams and fancies. Amongst other scenes was a prologue, in the shape of a dialogue between a Spaniard and a Frenchman. Montbars was to represent the Frenchman, and his companion the Spaniard. The Spaniard, appearing first upon the stage, began to utter a thousand invectives against France, mingled with much ribald rhodomontade, and Montbars became excited, and could not contain his impatience. To his heated mind the mimic scene became a reality. He broke in upon the stage, furiously interrupted his comerade in the middle of his speech, and, loading him with blows, would certainly have put him to death on the spot, as "a Spanish liar and murderer," had the combatants not been separated by the terrified bystanders. His father, rich, and loving his son much, perhaps all the better for these wayward eccentricities, which, he believed, contact of the world and the pleasures of youth would soon drive from his memory, desired to enrol him in the army, or induce him to enter some profession. But to all his questions and entreaties the boy only replied, that all he wanted was "to fight against the Spaniards." Seeing that his friends would oppose his project, he ran away from his father's house, and took refuge at Havre with an uncle who commanded one of the French king's ships. He was about to start on a cruise against Spain, with whom France was then at war, and, pleased at the boy's avowed attachment to a maritime life, wrote to his father, approving of the boy's resolution. The father reluctantly gave what could be construed into a consent, and in a few days the vessel sailed. During the voyage out, the young fanatic evinced the greatest eagerness for an engagement, and directly a vessel appeared in sight ran to arm himself, hoping it might be a Spaniard. At length, one did in reality appear, and he had an opportunity of distinguishing himself against his declared enemies. They gave chase to the Spanish vessel, and received her broadside. The elder Montbars, seeing his nephew intoxicated with joy, and, disregarding all risk of exposure, determining to throw away his life, clapped him under hatches, as a reckless boy, and only let him rush out when the boarding commenced, and the enemy's vessel was evidently their own. The liberated youth led the boarders with all the calmness of a veteran man-of-war's-man. Leaping, sabre in hand, upon the foe, he fought with them pell-mell, broke through their thickest ranks, and, followed by a few whom his courage animated to rival his own rashness, rushed twice from end to end of the Spanish vessel, mowing down all he met to the right and left. The Spaniards were refused quarter, those who escaped the sword perished in the sea, and Montbars, to whom the honour of the victory was unanimously awarded, refused quarter to a single one. The prize was found full of spoil, the hold crammed with riches, containing 30,000 bales of cotton, 2000 bales of silk, besides Indian stuffs, 2000 packets of incense, and 1000 of cloves, which made up the treasure. In addition to all this, they found a small casket of diamonds, the case clasped with iron, and fastened with four locks, which alone outvalued all the bulkier merchandise. While his uncle and the sailors exulted over these treasures, Montbars was counting the dead Spaniards, and gloating over the first victims of the hecatomb he still hoped to slay. Blood, and not booty, was his object. In spite of the young victor, a few Spanish sailors and officers had been spared in the general carnage. From these survivors they learnt that two other vessels had been parted from them in a storm, near where they then were (St. Domingo), and that their rendezvous had been fixed at Port Margot. Captain Montbars determined to wait for them there, and to capture them by the stratagem of sending the captured vessel with its Spanish colours out to meet them, as a decoy. While the French vessel and its prize lay waiting at the rendezvous, some huntsmen's boats came off to sea, bringing boucaned meat to barter for brandy. The Buccaneers apologised for bringing so little meat, saying, "that a band of Spanish Fifties had lately ravaged their district, burnt their hides, stolen their dried meat, and burnt their boucans." "And why do you suffer it?" said Montbars, impetuously, for he had been listening eagerly all this time, to the recital of a new proof of Spanish perfidy. "We do not suffer it," answered the huntsmen, roughly. "The Spaniards know well what sort of people we are, and they chose a time when we were all away cow-killing; but our day is coming. We are now collecting our companions, who have suffered worse than we have; we have given notice far and wide, and if the fifty grow to 1000, we shall soon bring them to bay." "If you are willing," says Montbars, "I will march at your head. I do not want to command you, but to expose myself first, to show you what I am ready to do against these accursed Spaniards." The old hunters, astonished at the daring of a mere youth, and glad of another musket, accepted his proposal. His uncle, unable to rein him in, and already weary of so hot-brained a volunteer, yielded to his entreaties. He permitted him to go, giving him a party of seamen to guard him, and supplied him with but few provisions, in hopes of bringing him quickly back. He threatened, on parting, to leave him behind if he was not on board to the very hour, then calling him a foolish madcap, and cursing him for a hair-brain, he dismissed him with his blessing, swearing the next minute there wasn't a braver lad at that moment treading a plank. Montbars departed with some uneasiness, not caring about his uncle's advice or the scantiness of provisions, but only afraid that he might miss the Spaniards on land, and be absent also when the Spanish vessels were attacked. He wanted no greater inducement to hurry his return than the prospect of a naval engagement. He had scarcely landed with his men, when the hunters brought them into a small savannah surrounded by hills and woods. They had not taken many steps across this broad hunting-ground before they saw some mounted Spaniards appear in the distance--these men were part of a troop that had collected, hearing that the Buccaneers were assembling to attack them. Montbars, transported with rage at the sight of a Spaniard, would have rushed at once upon them, single-handed, but an old experienced Buccaneer caught him by the arm: "Stop," said he, "there is plenty of time, and, if you do what I tell you, not one of these fellows shall escape." These words, "not one," would at any time have arrested Montbars, and they did so then. The old Buccaneer, crying a halt, bade the men turn their backs on the Spaniards, as if they had not seen them. He next unrolled the linen tent, which he carried in the usual fashion of his craft, and began to pitch it, followed by all his companions, who did the same, imitating their fugleman, without inquiry, trusting to the address that had often before delivered them out of danger. They then drew out their brandy flasks and affected to prepare for a revel, intending to deceive the Spaniards, who, they knew, would give them time to drink, in hopes of surprising them, an easy prey, when asleep. The empty horns were passed round with jokes, and songs, and shouts, and the corked flasks circulated as merrily as if the feast had been a real one. Without appearing to observe, they could see the Spanish patrols disappear over the ridge of the hill, to warn their men in the valley to prepare for a night surprise. The Buccaneer leader, passing the signal from hand to hand, sent an _engagé_ into the woods to quickly rouse all the "brothers" in the neighbourhood, to bid them come and help them, and to prepare an ambush in the opposite forest. In the mean time, other scouts were sent to watch the motions of the enemy, to be sure that they were coming, and were not making any flank movement. At dusk the Buccaneers slipped quietly from beneath their tents, and crept into the adjacent woods. Here they found their companions and their _engagés_ already assembled and eager for the attack. Montbars, weary of all preparations, was now burning to see the Spaniards, declared they never would come, and that they had better go out and surprise them while night lasted; but the Spaniards were purposely delaying, knowing that the longer they delayed the deeper would be the sleep of the revellers. At daybreak, they could see a dark troop beginning to move forward over the ridge, and soon to descend the hill into the plain in good order, a small detachment marching before them as a forlorn hope. The Buccaneers, well posted and unobserved, waited for them, sure of their prey, for the tents being pitched at some distance one from the other, they could see every movement of the Spaniards. As they drew nearer, the Fifties broke into small troops, and each encircled a tent. To their astonishment, at that moment the wood grew a flame, and a hot rolling fire led on the advancing Buccaneers, who, breaking out with yell and shout, very terrible in the silence of the dawning, overthrew horse and rider. Montbars, inspired by the fever of the onslaught, which always seemed for a moment to restore the balance of his mind, leaped on a horse, whose rider he had killed, and headed the attack. Wherever resistance was made, he rode in, charging every knot of troopers as they attempted to rally. Hurrying on too far beyond his companions, while breaking into the heart of the squadron, he was surrounded, and would have been quickly overpowered had he not been rescued by a determined rush of his men. More furious at this escape, he pursued the scattered enemy right and left, with increased fury, inflicting blows as dreadful as they were unusual. One of the Buccaneers, seeing many of his men suffering from the Indian arrows, cried out to the Indians, in Spanish, pointing to Montbars, "Do you not see that God has sent you a liberator, who fights for you, to deliver you from the Spaniards, and yet you still fight for your tyrants?" Hearing these words, and astonished at Montbars' contempt for death, the archers changed sides and turned their arrows against the Spaniards, who fled, overwhelmed by this new misfortune, and perhaps impelled by an undefinable and superstitious terror. Montbars looked upon this day as the happiest in his life. He had seen the Indians he had so pitied fighting by his side, and regarding him as their protector. Cleaving down a wounded Spaniard, who clung to his knees and begged for mercy, he cried, "I would it were the last of this accursed race." An eye witness of the battle describes the carnage as horrible--the living trampling on the living, and stumbling over the dying and the dead. The Buccaneers and the Indians, rejoicing in their liberty and their revenge, entreated Montbars to follow up his successes, and wanted at once to ravage the Spanish plantations, and extirpate the survivors, while they were still discouraged. Montbars gladly consented to the proposal, and was about to march exultingly at their head, when the boom of a cannon was heard. It was the report of a gun from his uncle's vessel, and he could not resist obeying a signal that might be the signal of an approaching battle. He instantly hurried back, but found, to his annoyance, that the signal had been only fired as a warning to announce the hour of instant sailing. The hunters, already attached to their young leader, refused to leave him, and the Indians were afraid to abide the vengeance of the Spaniards. They were all therefore at once placed on board the prize, and supplied with muskets and sabres. The delighted uncle appointed Montbars as captain, with an old officer, under the name of lieutenant, to act as his guardian. After eight days' sail, Montbars was attacked, at the mouth of a large key, by four Spanish vessels, each one larger than his own. They surrounded him so suddenly that he had no time to escape, and he lay amongst them like a wolf at bay. They formed, in fact, the van of the great Indian plate fleet, which was, every year, as eagerly expected by the king of Spain as it was by all the marauders of the Spanish main. The elder Montbars, bold and hardy, unhesitatingly attacked two of the vessels, and several times drove back their boarders. Although gouty himself and unable to move, the staunch old Gascon shouted his orders from his elbow chair; and, cursing alternately the enemy and the disease, defended his ship to the last extremity. Having fought for more than three hours with ferocious obstinacy, and seeing his young hero terribly pressed by his two adversaries, he resolved upon a final effort, the last struggle of a wild beast that feels the knife is at his throat. Firing a tremendous broadside, he attacked both his enemies with such fury that he sank them and himself, and died "laughing" in all the exultation of that revenge which is the only victory of despair. Montbars the younger made great exertions to save himself and to avenge his uncle. The old lion was dead, but the cub had much life in him yet. He sank one of his antagonists with a crashing shot and boarded the other. His Indians, seeing their leader enter the Spanish vessel at one end, threw themselves into the water and clambered promptly up the other. Their war-cries and arrows produced a powerful diversion, and took the Spaniards by surprise. Throwing many into the sea, they killed others, while Montbars put all that resisted to the sword. In a short time he was master of a vessel larger even than those that had been sunk. The friendly Indians, who now looked upon him as an invincible demigod, he employed in a fruitless search for his uncle's body. Conquerors and conquered were destined to remain locked in each other's arms, and piled over with bloody trophies of burnt wreck until the day that the sea should give up her dead. The hunters renewed their proposal of a descent upon the mainland, and Montbars agreed to any scheme which would enable him to avenge his uncle and his friends. He had formerly lived to avenge the wrongs of others, to these were now added his own. The governor of the province, hearing of the contemplated attack, prepared an ambuscade of negroes and militiamen. Putting himself at the head of 800 men, divided into three battalions, his wings strengthened with cavalry and his van guarded with cannon, he prepared to prevent the landing of the "Exterminator." These preparations only increased the ardour of Montbars. It seemed cowardly to ravage an unprotected country: its devastation, after defeating its defenders, was a reward of conquest. Montbars was the first to leap from the canoes, and the first to rush upon the Spanish pikes. The front battalion was soon repulsed, and some Indians taking the reserve force in the flank, they were driven back in great disorder. Montbars, hotly pursuing, made a prodigious carnage of the enemy, and carried fire and sword far into the interior. One day, while at sea, the young captain, already a veteran in experience, was obliged to put into a bay to careen. To his great surprise, although the place was a mere track of sand, he saw some Spaniards on a distant plain, marching in good order and well-armed. Fearing that if they saw his men they would take to flight, he sent a few of his favourite Indians to decoy them towards him. Then falling upon them with fury as they cried out for quarter Montbars shouted, in Spanish, that they had nothing to hope for till they had killed himself and all his men. These dreadful words, together with his revengeful looks, drove them to take up their arms and fight with dogged and brutal despair, till they were slain almost to a man. Advancing into the country in search of more human prey, Montbars carried off the arms of the Spaniards and a great quantity of fruits and provisions. It appeared, from a survivor, that the Spaniards had arrived in that country in a singular manner. They had formed the crew in guard of a vessel full of negro slaves who had conspired together to drive the ship on shore. They had secretly bored holes in the ship's hold, in which they had placed pluggets, which they drew out, and replaced, unseen, and in a moment. While the Spaniards were seated together, talking with their usual stately, stolid phlegm, this unaccountable leak would break out and fill the cabin, or drench them in their hammocks. The slaves never seemed alarmed, but always astonished, and filled the air with interjections, in the Congo language. The water rushing in pell-mell, even the ship's carpenter did not know from where, drove all hands, at great danger to the ship, almost to leave the helm to save the cargo, which was already damaged. The negroes, quiet and orderly, would generally succeed, after a time, in stopping the leak, and excited general admiration by their promptitude and naval skill. All then went on well for a time; but with the least wind or storm the leak recommenced, till the very captain began reluctantly to confess, with tears in his eyes, that they were all as good as lost, for the vessel was dangerous, and not seaworthy. In the middle of the night, or at meal time, this supernatural leak would recommence, till the pumps were all but worn out, and the men faint with want of sleep. One day, when the vessel was skirting a reef, the negroes watched the opportunity, and the leak commenced with redoubled fury, the slaves howling as if from the very disquietness of their hearts. The Spaniards, thinking all hope lost, and the vessel, as they declared, already beginning to settle down, abandoned the ship, and threw themselves on that very tongue of land where Montbars afterwards surprised them. The trick had been cleverly planned and cleverly executed, but a hitch in the machinery had nearly ruined all. One of the blacks, more timid or less sagacious than the rest, seeing the water pour in with more than usual impetuosity, and on all sides, lost his presence of mind. Not able at once, in his panic, to find the hole which he had to stop, he believed that his companions had also failed, and that all was indeed lost, and, throwing himself overboard without inquiring, he joined the Spaniards, who were thanking God (prematurely) for their deliverance. Looking back for his companions, to his horror he saw a dozen of them tugging at the helm, and putting out wildly to sea. The truth flashed upon him, and he knew in a moment that his safety was a loss. Giving way to uncontrollable despair, he tore his wool, and stamped his feet, and cursed his fetish, and stretched out his hands, as if to stay the parting vessel. The Spaniards, astonished at this apparently passionate desire to be drowned, began slowly to discover the successful stratagem. They looked: "Demonio, St. Antonio!"--the vessel did not sink, but glided swiftly out to sea. They could see the blacks laughing, pulling at the ropes, and grinning from the port-holes. They turned with fury on the unhappy survivor, and put him to the torture till he confessed the truth. And this story completes all that history has preserved of one of the strangest combinations of fanatic and soldier that has ever appeared since the days of Loyola. In another age, and under other circumstances, he might have become a second Mohammed. Equally remorseless, his ambition, though narrower, seems to have been no less fervid. If he was cruel, we must allow him to have been sincere even in his fanaticism. Daring, untiring, of unequalled courage, and unmatched resolution, the cruelty of the Spaniards he put down by greater cruelty. He passes from us into unknown seas, and we hear of him no more. He died probably unconscious of crime, unpitying and unpitied. Oexmelin, who saw Montbars at Honduras, describes him as active, vivacious, and full of fire, like all the Gascons. He was of tall stature, erect and firm, his air grand, noble, and martial. His complexion was sun-burnt, and the colour of his eyes could not be discerned under the deep, arched vaulting of his bushy eyebrows. His very glance in battle was said to intimidate the Spaniards, and to drive them to despair. In 1659, Santiago was pillaged by the Flibustiers, in revenge for the murder of twelve Frenchmen, who had been shot by a Spanish captain, who took them from a Flemish vessel, sparing only a woman, and a child who hid itself under the robe of a monk. Determined on retaliation, the people of the coast assembled to the number of 500. Obtaining an English commission, they embarked on board a frigate from Nantes, and a number of small craft--De L'Isle being their commander, and Adam, Lormel, and Anne le Roux their lieutenants. They landed at Puerto de Plata, "le Dimanche des Rameaux," and marched upon St. Jago at daybreak. Passing over the bodies of the guards, they rushed to the governor's house, and surprised him in bed. He, knowing French, threw himself on his knees, and told them that peace was about to be declared between the two nations. They replied, that they carried an English commission, and, reproaching him for his cruelties, bade him either prepare for death, or pay down 60,000 crowns. Part of this ransom he instantly paid in hides. The pillage of the town lasted twenty-four hours, and nothing was spared; the very bells were carried from the churches, and the altars stripped of their plate. No violence, however, we are glad to record, was offered to the women, the Brotherhood having agreed, that any such offender should lose his share of the spoil. END OF VOL. I. LONDON: SERCOMBE AND JACK, 16 GREAT WINDMILL STREET. INTERESTING NEW WORKS. * * * * * MEMOIRS OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE RICHARD LALOR SHEIL. By TORRENS M'CULLAGH, Esq. 2 vols. post 8vo. "We feel assured that Mr. M'Cullagh's Work will be received with general satisfaction."--_Literary Gazette._ "Such a man as Sheil eminently deserved a biography, and Mr. M'Cullagh has, we think, proved himself an exceedingly proper person to undertake it. His narrative is lucid and pleasant, sound and hearty in sentiment, and sensible in dissertation; altogether we may emphatically call this an excellent biography."--_Daily News._ * * * * * SKETCHES, LEGAL AND POLITICAL, BY THE LATE RIGHT HONOURABLE RICHARD LALOR SHEIL. 2 vols. post 8vo. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. ATHENÆUM. "We cordially recommend these sketches as interesting in matter and brilliant in composition. Their literary merit is very great." MESSENGER. "These volumes will delight the student and charm the general reader." DUBLIN EVENING MAIL. 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CHEAP EDITION OF MISS BURNEY'S DIARY. _In Seven Volumes, small 8vo,_ EMBELLISHED WITH PORTRAITS, _Price only 3s. each, elegantly bound, either of which may be had separately,_ DIARY AND LETTERS OF MADAME D'ARBLAY, AUTHOR OF "EVELINA," "CECILIA," &c. INCLUDING THE PERIOD OF HER RESIDENCE AT THE COURT OF QUEEN CHARLOTTE. * * * * * OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. EDINBURGH REVIEW. "Madame D'Arblay lived to be classic. Time set on her fame, before she went hence, that seal which is seldom set except on the fame of the departed. All those whom we have been accustomed to revere as intellectual patriarchs seemed children when compared with her; for Burke had sat up all night to read her writings, and Johnson had pronounced her superior to Fielding, when Rogers was still a schoolboy, and Southey still in petticoats. Her Diary is written in her earliest and best manner; in true woman's English, clear, natural, and lively. 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CHEAP EDITION OF THE LIVES OF THE QUEENS. _Now in course of Publication, in Eight Volumes, post octavo (comprising from 600 to 700 pages each), Price only 7s. 6d. per Volume, elegantly bound, either of which may be had separately, to complete sets_, LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. BY AGNES STRICKLAND. Dedicated by Express Permission to her Majesty. EMBELLISHED WITH PORTRAITS OF EVERY QUEEN, BEAUTIFULLY ENGRAVED FROM THE MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES. In announcing a cheap Edition of this important and interesting work, which has been considered unique in biographical literature, the publishers again beg to direct attention to the following extract from the author's preface:--"A revised edition of the 'Lives of the Queens of England', embodying the important collections which have been brought to light since the appearance of earlier impressions, is now offered to the world, embellished with Portraits of every Queen, from authentic and properly verified sources. The series, commencing with the consort of William the Conqueror, occupies that most interesting and important period of our national chronology, from the death of the last monarch of the Anglo-Saxon line, Edward the Confessor, to the demise of the last sovereign of the royal house of Stuart, Queen Anne, and comprises therein thirty queens who have worn the crown-matrimonial, and four the regal diadem of this realm. We have related the parentage of every queen, described her education, traced the influence of family connexions and national habits on her conduct, both public and private, and given a concise outline of the domestic, as well as the general history of her times, and its effects on her character, and we have done so with singleness of heart, unbiassed by selfish interests or narrow views. Such as they were in life we have endeavoured to portray them, both in good and ill, without regard to any other considerations than the development of the _facts_. 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The whole work should be read, and no doubt will be read, by all who are anxious for information. It is a lucid arrangement of facts, derived from authentic sources, exhibiting a combination of industry, learning, judgment, and impartiality, not often met with in biographers of crowned heads." MORNING HERALD. "A remarkable and truly great historical work. In this series of biographies, in which the severe truth of history takes almost the wildness of romance, it is the singular merit of Miss Strickland that her research has enabled her to throw new light on many doubtful passages, to bring forth fresh facts, and to render every portion of our annals which she has described an interesting and valuable study. She has given a most valuable contribution to the history of England, and we have no hesitation in affirming that no one can be said to possess an accurate knowledge of the history of the country who has not studied this truly national work, which, in this new edition, has received all the aids that further research on the part of the author, and of embellishment on the part of the publishers, could tend to make it still more valuable, and still more attractive, than it had been in its original form." MORNING CHRONICLE. "A most valuable and entertaining work. There is certainly no lady of our day who has devoted her pen to so beneficial a purpose as Miss Strickland. Nor is there any other whose works possess a deeper or more enduring interest." MORNING POST. "We must pronounce Miss Strickland beyond all comparison the most entertaining historian in the English language. She is certainly a woman of powerful and active mind, as well as of scrupulous justice and honesty of purpose." QUARTERLY REVIEW. "Miss Strickland has made a very judicious use of many authentic MS. authorities not previously collected, and the result is a most interesting addition to our biographical library." ATHENÆUM. "A valuable contribution to historical knowledge. It contains a mass of every kind of historical matter of interest, which industry and research could collect. We have derived much entertainment and instruction from the work." CHEAP EDITION OF PEPYS' DIARY AND CORRESPONDENCE. _Now ready, a New and Cheap Edition, printed uniformly with the last edition of_ EVELYN'S DIARY, _and comprising all the recent Notes and Emendations, Indexes, &c., in Four Volumes, post octavo, with Portraits, price 6s. per Volume, handsomely bound, of the_ DIARY AND CORRESPONDENCE OF SAMUEL PEPYS, F.R.S., SECRETARY TO THE ADMIRALTY IN THE REIGNS OF CHARLES II. AND JAMES II. EDITED BY RICHARD LORD BRAYBROOKE. The authority of PEPYS, as an historian and illustrator of a considerable portion of the seventeenth century, has been so fully acknowledged by every scholar and critic, that it is now scarcely necessary to remind the reader of the advantages he possessed for producing the most complete and trustworthy record of events, and the most agreeable picture of society and manners, to be found in the literature of any nation. In confidential communication with the reigning sovereigns, holding high official employment, placed at the head of the Scientific and Learned of a period remarkable for intellectual impulse, mingling in every circle, and observing everything and everybody whose characteristics were worth noting down; and possessing, moreover, an intelligence peculiarly fitted for seizing the most graphic points in whatever he attempted to delineate, PEPYS may be considered the most valuable as well as the most entertaining of our National Historians. A New and Cheap Edition of this work, comprising all the restored passages and the additional annotations that have been called for by the vast advances in antiquarian and historical knowledge during the last twenty years, will doubtless be regarded as one of the most agreeable additions that could be made to the library of the general reader. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS ON PEPYS' DIARY. FROM THE EDINBURGH REVIEW. "Without making any exception in favour of any other production of ancient or modern diarists, we unhesitatingly characterise this journal as the most remarkable production of its kind which has ever been given to the world. Pepys' Diary makes us comprehend the great historical events of the age, and the people who bore a part in them, and gives us more clear glimpses into the true English life of the times than all the other memorials of them that have come down to our own." FROM THE QUARTERLY REVIEW. "There is much in Pepys' Diary that throws a distinct and vivid light over the picture of England and its government during the period succeeding the Restoration. If, quitting the broad path of history, we look for minute information concerning ancient manners and customs, the progress of arts and sciences, and the various branches of antiquity, we have never seen a mine so rich as these volumes. The variety of Pepys' tastes and pursuits led him into almost every department of life. He was a man of business, a man of information, a man of whim, and, to a certain degree, a man of pleasure. He was a statesman, a _bel-esprit_, a virtuoso, and a connoisseur. His curiosity made him an unwearied, as well as an universal, learner, and whatever he saw found its way into his tablets." FROM THE ATHENÆUM. "The best book of its kind in the English language. The new matter is extremely curious, and occasionally far more characteristic and entertaining than the old. The writer is seen in a clearer light, and the reader is taken into his inmost soul. Pepys' Diary is the ablest picture of the age in which the writer lived, and a work of standard importance in English literature." FROM THE EXAMINER. "We place a high value on Pepys' Diary as the richest and most delightful contribution ever made to the history of English life and manners in the latter half of the seventeenth century." FROM TAIT'S MAGAZINE. "We owe Pepys a debt of gratitude for the rare and curious information he has bequeathed to us in this most amusing and interesting work. His Diary is valuable, as depicting to us many of the most important characters of the times. Its author has bequeathed to us the records of his heart--the very reflection of his energetic mind; and his quaint but happy narrative clears up numerous disputed points--throws light into many of the dark corners of history, and lays bare the hidden substratum of events which gave birth to, and supported the visible progress of, the nation." FROM THE MORNING POST. "Of all the records that have ever been published, Pepys' Diary gives us the most vivid and trustworthy picture of the times, and the clearest view of the state of English public affairs and of English society during the reign of Charles II. We see there, as in a map, the vices of the monarch, the intrigues of the Cabinet, the wanton follies of the court, and the many calamities to which the nation was subjected during the memorable period of fire, plague, and general licentiousness." IMPORTANT NEW HISTORICAL WORK. _Now ready, in 2 vols. post 8vo, embellished with Portraits, price 21s. bound,_ THE QUEENS BEFORE THE CONQUEST. BY MRS. MATTHEW HALL. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. FROM THE LITERARY GAZETTE. "Mrs. Hall's work presents a clear and connected series of records of the early female sovereigns of England, of whom only a few scattered anecdotes have hitherto been familiarly known to general readers. The book is of great interest, as containing many notices of English life and manners in the remote times of our British, Roman, Saxon, and Danish ancestors." SUNDAY TIMES. "These volumes open up a new and interesting page of history to the majority of readers. What Miss Strickland has achieved for English Queens since the Norman era, has been accomplished by Mrs. Hall on behalf of the royal ladies who, as wives of Saxon kings, have influenced the destinies of Britain." SUN. "Mrs. Hall may be congratulated on having successfully accomplished a very arduous undertaking. Her volumes form a useful introduction to the usual commencement of English history." CRITIC. "The most instructive history we possess of the pre-Conquest period. It should take its place by the side of Miss Strickland's 'Lives of the Queens.'" OBSERVER. "Of all our female historico-biographical writers, Mrs. Hall seems to us to be one of the most painstaking, erudite, and variously and profoundly accomplished. Her valuable volumes contain not only the lives of the Queens before the Conquest, but a very excellent history of England previously to the Norman dynasty." BELL'S MESSENGER. "These interesting volumes have been compiled with judgment, discretion, and taste. Mrs. Hall has spared neither pains nor labour to make her history worthy of the characters she has essayed to illustrate. The book is, in every sense, an addition of decided value to the annals of the British people." NEW QUARTERLY REVIEW. "These volumes have long been a desideratum, and will be hailed as a useful, and indeed essential, introduction to Miss Strickland's world-famous biographical history." THE PEERAGE AND BARONETAGE OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE. BY SIR BERNARD BURKE, ULSTER KING OF ARMS. A NEW EDITION, REVISED AND CORRECTED FROM THE PERSONAL COMMUNICATIONS OF THE NOBILITY, &c. With 1500 Engravings of ARMS. In 1 vol. (comprising as much matter as twenty ordinary volumes), 38s. bound. * * * * * The following is a List of the Principal Contents of this Standard Work:-- I. A full and interesting history of each order of the English Nobility, showing its origin, rise, titles, immunities, privileges, &c. II. A complete Memoir of the Queen and Royal Family, forming a brief genealogical History of the Sovereign of this country, and deducing the descent of the Plantagenets, Tudors, Stuarts, and Guelphs, through their various ramifications. To this section is appended a list of those Peers and others who inherit the distinguished honour of Quartering the Royal Arms of Plantagenet. III. An Authentic table of Precedence. IV. A perfect HISTORY OF ALL THE PEERS AND BARONETS, with the fullest details of their ancestors and descendants, and particulars respecting every collateral member of each family, and all intermarriages, &c. V. The Spiritual Lords. VI. Foreign Noblemen, subjects by birth of the British Crown. VII. Extinct Peerages, of which descendants still exist. VIII. Peerages claimed. IX. Surnames of Peers and Peeresses, with Heirs Apparent and Presumptive. X. Courtesy titles of Eldest Sons. XI. Peerages of the Three Kingdoms in order of Precedence. XII. Baronets in order of Precedence. XIII. Privy Councillors of England and Ireland. XIV. Daughters of Peers married to Commoners. XV. ALL THE ORDERS OF KNIGHTHOOD, with every Knight and all the Knights Bachelors. XVI. Mottoes translated, with poetical illustrations. * * * * * "The most complete, the most convenient, and the cheapest work of the kind ever given to the public."--_Sun_. "The best genealogical and heraldic dictionary of the Peerage and Baronetage, and the first authority on all questions affecting the aristocracy."--_Globe_. "For the amazing quantity of personal and family history, admirable arrangement of details, and accuracy of information, this genealogical and heraldic dictionary is without a rival. It is now the standard and acknowledged book of reference upon all questions touching pedigree, and direct or collateral affinity with the titled aristocracy. The lineage of each distinguished house is deduced through all the various ramifications. Every collateral branch, however remotely connected, is introduced; and the alliances are so carefully inserted, as to show, in all instances, the connexion which so intimately exists between the titled and untitled aristocracy. We have also much most entertaining historical matter, and many very curious and interesting family traditions. The work is, in fact, a complete cyclopædia of the whole titled classes of the empire, supplying all the information that can possibly be desired on the subject."--_Morning Post_. CHEAP EDITION OF THE DIARY AND CORRESPONDENCE OF JOHN EVELYN, F.R.S. _Now completed, with Portraits, in Four Volumes, post octavo (either of which may be had separately), price 6s. each, handsomely bound,_ COMPRISING ALL THE IMPORTANT ADDITIONAL NOTES, LETTERS, AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS LAST MADE. "We rejoice to welcome this beautiful and compact edition of Evelyn. It is intended as a companion to the recent edition of Pepys, and presents similar claims to interest and notice. Evelyn was greatly above the vast majority of his contemporaries, and the Diary which records the incidents in his long life, extending over the greater part of a century, is deservedly esteemed one of the most valuable and interesting books in the language. Evelyn took part in the breaking out of the civil war against Charles I., and he lived to see William of Orange ascend the throne. Through the days of Strafford and Land, to those of Sancroft and Ken, he was the steady friend of moderation and peace in the English Church. He interceded alike for the royalist and the regicide; he was the correspondent of Cowley, the patron of Jeremy Taylor, the associate and fellow-student of Boyle; and over all the interval between Vandyck and Kneller, between the youth of Milton and the old age of Dryden, poetry and the arts found him an intelligent adviser, and a cordial friend. There are, on the whole, very few men of whom England has more reason to be proud. He stands among the first in the list of Gentlemen. We heartily commend so good an edition of this English classic."--_Examiner._ "This work is a necessary companion to the popular histories of our country, to Hume, Hallam, Macaulay, and Lingard.--_Sun._ LIVES OF THE PRINCESSES OF ENGLAND. By MRS. EVERETT GREEN, EDITOR OF THE "LETTERS OF ROYAL AND ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES." 6 vols., post 8vo, with Illustrations, 10s. 6d. each, bound. Either of which may be had separately. "This work is a worthy companion to Miss Strickland's admirable 'Queens of England.' That celebrated work, although its heroines were, for the most part, foreign Princesses, related almost entirely to the history of this country. The Princesses of England, on the contrary, are themselves English, but their lives are nearly all connected with foreign nations. Their biographies, consequently, afford us a glimpse of the manners and customs of the chief European kingdoms, a circumstance which not only gives to the work the charm of variety, but which is likely to render it peculiarly useful to the general reader, as it links together by association the contemporaneous history of various nations. We cordially commend Mrs. Green's production to general attention; it is (necessarily) as useful as history, and fully as entertaining as romance."--_Sun._ SIR B. BURKE'S DICTIONARY OF THE EXTINCT, DORMANT, AND ABEYANT PEERAGES OF ENGLAND, SCOTLAND AND IRELAND. Beautifully printed, in 1 vol, 8vo, containing 800 double-column pages, 21s. bound. This work connects, in many instances, the new with the old nobility, and it will in all cases show the cause which has influenced the revival of an extinct dignity in a new creation. It should be particularly noticed, that this new work appertains nearly as much to extant as to extinct persons of distinction; for though dignities pass away, it rarely occurs that whole families do. HISTORY OF THE LANDED GENTRY. A Genealogical Dictionary OF THE WHOLE OF THE UNTITLED ARISTOCRACY OF ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, AND IRELAND. By SIR BERNARD BURKE. A new and improved Edition, in 1 vol., uniform with the "Peerage." -->THE PURCHASERS of the earlier editions of the Dictionary of the Landed Gentry are requested to take notice that A COPIOUS INDEX has been compiled with great care and at great expense, containing REFERENCES TO THE NAMES OF EVERY PERSON (upwards of 100,000) MENTIONED IN THE WORK, and may be had bound uniformly with the work: price, 5s. ROMANTIC RECORDS OF THE ARISTOCRACY. By SIR BERNARD BURKE. SECOND AND CHEAPER EDITION, 2 vols., post 8vo, 21s. bound. "The most curious incidents, the most stirring tales, and the most remarkable circumstances connected with the histories, public and private, of our noble houses and aristocratic families, are here given in a shape which will preserve them in the library, and render them the favorite study of those who are interested in the romance of real life. These stories, with all the reality of established fact, read with as much spirit as the tales of Boccaccio, and are as full of strange matter for reflection and amazement."--_Britannia._ REVELATIONS OF PRINCE TALLEYRAND. Second Edition, 1 volume, post 8vo, with Portrait, 10s. 6d. bound. "We have perused this work with extreme interest. It is a portrait of Talleyrand drawn by his own hand."--_Morning Post._ "A more interesting work has not issued from the press for many years. It is in truth a most complete Boswell sketch of the greatest diplomatist of the age."--_Sunday Times._ THE LIFE AND REIGN OF CHARLES I. By I. DISRAELI. A NEW EDITION. REVISED BY THE AUTHOR, AND EDITED BY HIS SON, THE RT. HON. B. DISRAELI, M.P. 2 vols., 8vo, 28s. bound. "By far the most important work on the important age of Charles I. that modern times have produced."--_Quarterly Review._ MEMOIRS OF SCIPIO DE RICCI, LATE BISHOP OF PISTOIA AND PRATO; REFORMER OF CATHOLICISM IN TUSCANY. Cheaper Edition, 2 vols. 8vo, 12s. bound. The leading feature of this important work is its application to the great question now at issue between our Protestant and Catholic fellow-subjects. It contains a complete _exposé_ of the Romish Church Establishment during the eighteenth century, and of the abuses of the Jesuits throughout the greater part of Europe. Many particulars of the most thrilling kind are brought to light. HISTORIC SCENES. By AGNES STRICKLAND. Author of "Lives of the Queens of England," &c. 1 vol., post 8vo, elegantly bound, with Portrait of the Author, 10s. 6d. "This attractive volume is replete with interest. Like Miss Strickland's former works, it will be found, we doubt not, in the hands of youthful branches of a family as well as in those of their parents, to all and each of whom it cannot fail to be alike amusing and instructive."--_Britannia._ MEMOIRS OF PRINCE ALBERT; AND THE HOUSE OF SAXONY. Second Edition, revised, with Additions, by Authority. 1 vol., post 8vo, with Portrait, bound, 6s. MADAME CAMPAN'S MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. Cheaper Edition, 2 vols. 8vo, with Portraits, price 7s. "We have seldom perused so entertaining a work. It is as a mirror of the most splendid Court in Europe, at a time when the monarchy had not been shorn of any of its beams, that it is particularly worthy of attention."--_Chronicle._ LIFE AND LETTERS OF THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 3 vols., small 8vo, 15s. "A curious and entertaining piece of domestic biography of a most extraordinary person, under circumstances almost unprecedented."--_New Monthly._ "An extremely amusing book, full of anecdotes and traits of character of kings, princes, nobles, generals," &c.--_Morning Journal._ MEMOIRS OF A HUNGARIAN LADY. MADAME PULSZKY. WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 2 vols., 12s. bound. "Worthy of a place by the side of the Memoirs of Madame de Staël and Madame Campan."--_Globe._ MEMOIRS OF A GREEK LADY, THE ADOPTED DAUGHTER OF THE LATE QUEEN CAROLINE. WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 2 vols., post 8vo, price 12s. bound. Now ready, Part XI., price 5s., of M.A. THIERS' HISTORY OF FRANCE UNDER NAPOLEON. A SEQUEL TO HIS HISTORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. As guardian to the archives of the state, M. Thiers had access to diplomatic papers and other documents of the highest importance, hitherto known only to a privileged few. From private sources M. Thiers has also derived much valuable information. Many interesting memoirs, diaries, and letters, all hitherto unpublished, and most of them destined for political reasons to remain so, have been placed at his disposal; while all the leading characters of the empire, who were alive when the author undertook the present history, have supplied him with a mass of incidents and anecdotes which have never before appeared in print. N.B. Any of the Parts may, for the present, be had separately, at 5s. each; and subscribers are recommended to complete their sets as soon as possible, to prevent disappointment. ***The public are requested to be particular in giving their orders for "COLBURN'S AUTHORISED TRANSLATION." RUSSIA UNDER THE AUTOCRAT NICHOLAS I. BY IVAN GOLOVINE, A RUSSIAN SUBJECT. Cheaper Edition, 2 vols., with a full-length Portrait of the Emperor, 10s. bound. "These are volumes of an extremely interesting nature, emanating from the pen of a Russian, noble by birth, who has escaped beyond the reach of the Czar's power. The merits of the work are very considerable. It throws a new light on the state of the empire--its aspect, political and domestic--its manners; the _employés_ about the palace, court, and capital; its police; its spies; its depraved society," &c.--_Sunday Times._ JAPAN AND THE JAPANESE, Comprising the Narrative of a Three Years' Residence in Japan, with an Account of British Commercial Intercourse with that Country. By CAPTAIN GOLOWNIN. NEW and CHEAPER EDITION. 2 vols. post 8vo, 10s. bound. "No European has been able, from personal observation and experience, to communicate a tenth part of the intelligence furnished by this writer."--_British Review._ MEMOIRS AND CORRESPONDENCE OF SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH, K.B., _Minister Plenipotentiary at the Courts of Dresden, Copenhagen, and Vienna, from 1769 to 1793; with Biographical Memoirs of_ QUEEN CAROLINE MATILDA, SISTER OF GEORGE III. Cheaper Edition. Two vols., post 8vo, with Portraits, 15s. bound. THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS; OR, ROMANCE AND REALITIES OF EASTERN TRAVEL. By ELIOT WARBURTON, Esq. CHEAP EDITION, revised in 1 vol., with numerous Illustrations, 6s. bound. "A book calculated to prove more practically useful was never penned than the 'Crescent and the Cross'--a work which surpasses all others in its homage for the sublime and its love for the beautiful in those famous regions consecrated to everlasting immortality in the annals of the prophets--and which no other modern writer has ever depicted with a pencil at once so reverent and as picturesque."--_Sun._ LORD LINDSAY'S LETTERS ON THE HOLY LAND. FOURTH EDITION, Revised, 1 vol., post 8vo, with Illustrations, 6s. bound. "Lord Lindsay has felt and recorded what he saw with the wisdom of a philosopher, and the faith of an enlightened Christian."--_Quarterly Review._ NARRATIVE OF A TWO YEARS' RESIDENCE AT NINEVEH; With Remarks on the Chaldeans, Nestorians, Yexidees, &c. By the Rev. J.P. FLETCHER. Cheaper Edition. Two vols., post 8vo, 12s. bound. ADVENTURES IN GEORGIA, CIRCASSIA, AND RUSSIA. By Lieutenant-Colonel G. POULETT CAMERON, C.B., K.T.S., &c. 2 vols., post 8vo, bound, 12s. CAPTAINS KING AND FITZROY. NARRATIVE OF THE TEN TEARS' VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD, OF H.M.S. ADVENTURE AND BEAGLE. Cheaper Edition, in 2 large vols. 8vo, with Maps, Charts, and upwards of Sixty Illustrations, by Landseer, and other eminent Artists, price 1_l._ 11s. 6d. bound. "One of the most interesting narratives of voyaging that it has fallen to our lot to notice, and which must always occupy a distinguished space in the history of scientific navigation."--_Quarterly Review._ THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S CAMPAIGN IN THE NETHERLANDS IN 1815. Comprising the Battles of Ligny, Quatre Bras, and Waterloo. Illustrated by Official Documents. By WILLIAM MUDFORD, Esq. 1 vol., 4to, with Thirty Coloured Plates, Portraits, Maps, Plans, &c., bound, 21s. STORY OF THE PENINSULAR WAR. A COMPANION VOLUME TO MR. GLEIG'S "STORY OF THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO." With Six Portraits and Map, 5s. bound. THE NEMESIS IN CHINA; COMPRISING A COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE WAR IN THAT COUNTRY. From Notes of Captain W.H. HALL, R.N. 1 vol., Plates, 6s. bound. "Capt. Hall's narrative of the services of the _Nemesis_ is full of interest, and will, we are sure, be valuable hereafter, as affording most curious materials for the history of steam navigation."--_Quarterly Review._ CAPTAIN CRAWFORD'S NAVAL REMINISCENCES; COMPRISING MEMOIRS OF ADMIRALS SIR E. OWEN, SIR B. HALLOWELL CAREW, AND OTHER DISTINGUISHED COMMANDERS. 2 vols., post 8vo, with Portraits, 12s. bound. ADVENTURES OF A SOLDIER. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. Being the Memoirs of EDWARD COSTELLO, of the Rifle Brigade, and late Captain in the British Legion. Cheap Edition, with Portrait, 3s. 6d. bound. "An excellent book of its class. A true and vivid picture of a soldier's life."--_Athenæum._ "This highly interesting volume is filled with details and anecdotes of the most startling character, and well deserves a place in the library of every regiment in the service."--_Naval and Military Gazette._ PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF MRS. MARGARET MAITLAND, OF SUNNYSIDE. WRITTEN BY HERSELF. Third and Cheaper Edition, 1 vol., 6s. bound. "Nothing half so true or so touching in the delineation of Scottish character has appeared since Galt published his 'Annals of the Parish,' and this is purer and deeper than Galt, and even more absolutely and simply true."--_Lord Jeffrey._ Cheaper Edition, in 3 vols., price 10s. 6d., half-bound, FORTUNE: A STORY OF LONDON LIFE. By D.T. COULTON, Esq. "A brilliant novel. A more vivid picture of various phases of society has not been painted since 'Vivian Grey' first dazzled and confounded the world; but it is the biting satire of fashionable life, the moral anatomy of high society, which will attract all readers. In every sense of the word, 'Fortune' is an excellent novel."--_Observer._ "'Fortune' is not a romance, but a novel. All is reality about it: the time, the characters, and the incidents. In its reality consists its charm and its merit. It is, indeed, an extraordinary work, and has introduced to the world of fiction a new writer of singular ability, with a genius more that of Bulwer than any to whom we can compare it."--_Critic._ THE MODERN ORLANDO. By Dr. CROLY. "By far the best thing of the kind that has been written since Byron."--_Literary Gazette._ THE HALL AND THE HAMLET. By WILLIAM HOWITT. Author of "The Book of the Seasons," "Rural Life in England," &c. Cheaper Edition, 2 vols., post 8vo, 12s. bound. "This work is full of delightful sketches and sweet and enchanting pictures of rural life, and we have no doubt will be read not only at the homestead of the farmer, but at the mansion of the squire, or the castle of the lord, with gratification and delight."--_Sunday Times._ PUBLISHED FOR HENRY COLBURN, BY HIS SUCCESSORS, HURST & BLACKETT, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. * * * * * Transcriber's note: Mismatched quotation marks in one paragraph of Chapter III were left as in the original. Pg 26: nomade changed to nomadic Pg 41: Manchete changed to Machete 
19396	----	TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Obvious printing errors were repaired; see the html version for details of these changes. Other variation in spelling and hyphenation is as in the original text. [Illustration: CAPTAIN WILLIAM DAMPIER] ON THE SPANISH MAIN OR, SOME ENGLISH FORAYS ON THE ISTHMUS OF DARIEN. WITH A DESCRIPTION OF THE BUCCANEERS AND A SHORT ACCOUNT OF OLD-TIME SHIPS AND SAILORS BY JOHN MASEFIELD WITH TWENTY-TWO ILLUSTRATIONS AND A MAP METHUEN & CO. 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. LONDON _First Published in 1906_ THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH. TO JACK B. YEATS CONTENTS CHAPTER I PAGE DRAKE'S VOYAGE TO THE WEST INDIES 1 His quarrel with the Spaniards--His preliminary raids--His landfall--The secret harbour CHAPTER II THE ATTACK ON NOMBRE DE DIOS 15 The treasure of the Indies--The Bastimentos--A Spanish herald CHAPTER III THE CRUISE OFF THE MAIN 26 The secret haven--The cruise of the pinnaces--Cartagena--Death of John Drake CHAPTER IV THE ROAD TO PANAMA 55 The Maroons--The native city--The great tree--Panama--The silver train--The failure--Venta Cruz CHAPTER V BACK TO THE MAIN BODY 74 The treasure train--The spoil--Captain Tetû hurt CHAPTER VI THE ADVENTURE OF THE RAFT 88 Drake's voyage to the Catives--Homeward bound--The interrupted sermon CHAPTER VII JOHN OXENHAM 98 The voyage--His pinnace--Into the South Sea--Disaster--His unhappy end CHAPTER VIII THE SPANISH RULE IN HISPANIOLA 106 Rise of the Buccaneers--The hunters of the wild bulls--Tortuga--Buccaneer politics--Buccaneer customs CHAPTER IX BUCCANEER CUSTOMS 129 Mansvelt and Morgan--Morgan's raid on Cuba--Puerto del Principe CHAPTER X THE SACK OF PORTO BELLO 148 The Gulf of Maracaibo--Morgan's escape from the Spaniards CHAPTER XI MORGAN'S GREAT RAID 168 Chagres castle--Across the isthmus--Sufferings of the Buccaneers--Venta Cruz--Old Panama CHAPTER XII THE SACK OF PANAMA 197 The burning of the city--Buccaneer excesses--An abortive mutiny--Home--Morgan's defection CHAPTER XIII CAPTAIN DAMPIER 218 Campeachy--Logwood cutting--The march to Santa Maria CHAPTER XIV THE BATTLE OF PERICO 245 Arica--The South Sea cruise CHAPTER XV ACROSS THE ISTHMUS 276 The way home--Sufferings and adventures CHAPTER XVI SHIPS AND RIGS 291 Pavesses--Top-arming--Banners--Boats CHAPTER XVII GUNS AND GUNNERS 298 Breech-loaders--Cartridges--Powder--The gunner's art CHAPTER XVIII THE SHIP'S COMPANY 311 Captain--Master--Lieutenant--Warrant officers--Duties and privileges CHAPTER XIX THE CHOOSING OF WATCHES 322 The petty tally--Food--Work--Punishments CHAPTER XX IN ACTION 334 INDEX 341 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE CAPTAIN WILLIAM DAMPIER _Frontispiece_ NOMBRE DE DIOS 12 CARTAGENA 26 CARTAGENA IN 1586, SHOWING THE DOUBLE HARBOUR 40 The ship in the foreground may be Drake's flagship, the _Bonaventure_ AN ELIZABETHAN WARSHIP 49 A pinnace beyond, to the left SHIP AND FLYING-FISH 95 A BUCCANEER'S SLAVE, WITH HIS MASTER'S GUN 114 A barbecue in right lower corner OLD PORT ROYAL 132 PUERTO DEL PRINCIPE 142 PORTO BELLO, CIRCA 1740, SHOWING THE SITUATION AND DEFENCES OF THE CITY 150 THE FIRESHIP DESTROYING THE "SPANISH ADMIRAL" 164 Castle de la Barra in background CHAGRES (CIRCA 1739) 173 THE ISTHMUS, SHOWING MORGAN'S LINE OF ADVANCE 180 NEW PANAMA 195 THE BATTLE OF PANAMA 200 SIR HENRY MORGAN 210 A DESCRIPTION OF ARICA 266 A DESCRIPTION OF HILO 274 AN ELIZABETHAN GALLEON 293 AN ELIZABETHAN GALLEON 297 A GALLIASSE 310 THE "SOVEREIGN OF THE SEAS" 323 MAP OF THE BUCCANEER CRUISING GROUNDS 340 ON THE SPANISH MAIN CHAPTER I DRAKE'S VOYAGE TO THE WEST INDIES His quarrel with the Spaniards--His preliminary raids--His landfall--The secret harbour Francis Drake, the first Englishman to make himself "redoubtable to the Spaniards" on the Spanish Main, was born near Tavistock about the year 1545. He was sent to sea, as a lad, aboard a Channel coaster engaged in trade with the eastern counties, France and Zeeland. When he was eighteen years of age he joined his cousin, John Hawkins, then a great and wealthy merchant, engaged in the slave trade. Four years later he sailed with Hawkins on a memorable trading voyage to the Spanish Main. On this occasion he commanded a small vessel of fifty tons. The voyage was unfortunate from the beginning, for the Spaniards had orders from their King to refuse to trade with any foreigners. Before the English could get rid of their freight the ships of their squadron were severely battered by a hurricane, so that they were forced to put into San Juan d'Ulloa, the port of Vera Cruz, to refit. While they lay there a Spanish fleet arrived, carrying a vast quantity of gold and silver for transhipment to Spain. It was not to Hawkins' advantage to allow this Spanish force to enter the haven, for he feared that they would treat him as a pirate if they had an opportunity to do so. However, the Spaniards came to terms with him, an agreement was signed by both parties, and the Spanish ships were allowed into the port. The next day the Spaniards treacherously attacked the English squadron, sank one of the ships at her moorings, killed many of the men, captured a number more, and drove the survivors to sea in Drake's ship the _Judith_, and a larger ship called the _Minion_. It was this treacherous attack (and, perhaps, some earlier treachery not recorded) which made Drake an implacable enemy of the Spaniards for the next twenty-eight years. After the disaster at San Juan d'Ulloa, Drake endeavoured to obtain some recompense for the losses he had sustained. But "finding that no recompence could be recovered out of Spain by any of his own means, or by her Majesties letters; he used such helpes as he might by two severall Voyages into the West Indies." In the first of these two voyages, in 1570, he had two ships, the _Dragon_ and the _Swan_. In the second, in 1571, he sailed in the _Swan_ without company. The _Swan_ was a small vessel of only five and twenty tons, but she was a "lucky" ship, and an incomparable sailer. We know little of these two voyages, though a Spanish letter (quoted by Mr Corbett) tells us of a Spanish ship he took; and Thomas Moone, Drake's coxswain, speaks of them as having been "rich and gainfull." Probably Drake employed a good deal of his time in preparing for a future raid, for when he ventured out in earnest in 1572 he showed himself singularly well acquainted with the town he attacked. The account from which we take our information expressly states that this is what he did. He went, it says, "to gaine such intelligences as might further him to get some amends for his losse. And having, in those two Voyages, gotten such certaine notice of the persons and places aymed at, as he thought requisite; and thereupon with good deliberation, resolved on a third Voyage, he accordingly prepared his Ships and Company ... as now followes further to be declared." There can be little doubt that the two tentative voyages were highly profitable, for Drake was able to fit out his third expedition with a care and completeness almost unknown at that time. The ships were "richly furnished, with victuals and apparel for a whole year: and no lesse heedfully provided of all manner of Munition, Artillery, Artificers, stuffe and tooles, that were requisite for such a Man-of-war in such an attempt." He himself, as Admiral of the expedition, commanded the larger ship, the _Pascha_ of Plymouth, of seventy tons. His younger brother, John Drake, sailed as captain of the _Swan_. In all there were seventy-three men and boys in the expedition; and we read that they were mostly young men--"the eldest ... fifty, all the rest under thirty." They were all volunteers--a fact that shows that Drake had gained a reputation for luck in these adventures. Forty-seven of the seventy-three sailed aboard the _Pascha_; while the _Swan_ carried the remaining twenty-six, probably with some inconvenience. Carefully stowed away in the holds of the two vessels were "three dainty Pinnases, made in Plimouth, taken asunder all in pieces, to be set up as occasion served." This instance of Drake's forethought makes it very clear that the expedition had been planned with extreme care. The comfort of the men had been studied: witness the supply of "apparell." There was a doctor aboard, though he does not seem to have been "a great proficient" in his art; and the expedition was so unusually healthy that we feel convinced that Drake had some specific for the scurvy. "On Whitsunday Eve, being the 24 of May, 1572," the two ships "set sayl from out of the Sound of Plimouth," with intent to land at Nombre de Dios (Name of God) a town on the northern coast of the Isthmus of Darien, at that time "the granary of the West Indies, wherein the golden harvest brought from Peru and Mexico to Panama was hoarded up till it could be conveyed into Spain." The wind was steady from the north-east the day they sailed, so that the watchers from the shore must soon have lost sight of them. No doubt the boats of all the ships in the Sound came off to give the adventurers a parting cheer, or, should they need it, a tow to sea. No doubt the two ships were very gay with colours and noisy with the firing of farewells. Then at last, as the sails began to draw, and the water began to bubble from the bows, the trumpeters sounded "A loath to depart," the anchor came to the cathead, and the boats splashed back to Plymouth, their crews jolly with the parting glasses. The wind that swept the two ships out of port continued steady at north-east, "and gave us a very good passage," taking them within sight of Porto Santo, one of the Madeiras, within twelve days of their leaving Plymouth. The wind continued fair when they stood to the westward, after sighting the Canaries, so that neither ship so much as shortened sail "untill 25 dayes after," when the men in the painted tops descried the high land of Guadaloupe. They stood to the south of Guadaloupe, as though to pass between that island and Dominica, but seeing some Indians busily fishing off a rocky island to the south of Dominica they determined to recruit there before proceeding farther. This island was probably Marygalante, a pleasant island full of trees, a sort of summer fishing ground for the Dominican Indians. There is good anchorage off many parts of it; and Drake anchored to the south, sending the men ashore to live in tents for their refreshment. They also watered their ships while lying at anchor "out of one of those goodly rivers which fall down off the mountain." Running water was always looked upon as less wholesome than spring water; and, perhaps, they burnt a bag of biscuit on the beach, and put the charcoal in the casks to destroy any possible infection. They saw no Indians on the island, though they came across "certain poore cottages built with Palmito boughs and branches," in which they supposed the Indians lodged when engaged upon their fishery. Having filled the casks, and stowed them aboard again, the ships weighed anchor, and sailed away south towards the mainland. On the fifth day, keeping well to seaward, thirty miles from the shore, to avoid discovery, they made the high land of Santa Martha on "the Terra Firma." Having made the landfall they sailed westward into the Gulf of Darien, and in six days more (during two of which the ships were becalmed) they came to a secret anchorage which Drake had discovered in his former voyage. He had named it Port Pheasant, "by reason of the great store of those goodly fowls which he and his Company did then dayly kill and feed on in that place." "It was a fine round Bay, of very safe harbour for all winds, lying between two high points, not past half a cable's length (or a hundred yards) over at the mouth, but within eight or ten cables' length every way, having ten or twelve fadome water, more or lesse, full of good fish, the soile also very fruitfull." Drake had been there "within a year and few days before," and had left the shore clear of tangle, with alleys and paths by which men might walk in the woods, after goodly fowls or otherwise; but a year of that steaming climate had spoiled his handiwork. The tangle of many-blossomed creepers and succulent green grasses had spread across the paths "as that we doubted at first whether this were the same place or no." We do not know where this romantic harbour lies, for the Gulf of Darien is still unsurveyed. We know only that it is somewhere nearly equidistant from Santiago de Tolu (to the east) and Nombre de Dios (to the west). Roughly speaking, it was 120 miles from either place, so that "there dwelt no Spaniards within thirty-five leagues." Before the anchors were down, and the sails furled Drake ordered out the boat, intending to go ashore. As they neared the landing-place they spied a smoke in the woods--a smoke too big to come from an Indian's fire. Drake ordered another boat to be manned with musketeers and bowmen, suspecting that the Spaniards had found the place, and that the landing would be disputed. On beaching the boats they discovered "evident markes" that a Plymouth ship, under the command of one John Garret, had been there but a day or two before. He had left a plate of lead, of the sort supplied to ships to nail across shot-holes, "nailed fast to a mighty great tree," some thirty feet in girth. On the lead a letter had been cut: CAPTAIN DRAKE, if you fortune to come to this Port, make hast away; for the Spanyards which you had with you here the last year, have bewrayed this place, and taken away all that you left here. I departed from hence this present 7 of July, 1572. Your very loving friend, JOHN GARRET. The smoke was from a fire which Garret and his men had kindled in a great hollow tree, that was probably rotted into touchwood. It had smouldered for five days or more, sending up a thick smoke, to warn any coming to the harbour to proceed with caution. The announcement that the place was known to the Spaniards did not weigh very heavily upon Drake; nor is it likely that he suffered much from the loss of his hidden stores, for nothing of any value could have been left in such a climate. He determined not to leave "before he had built his Pinnaces," and therefore, as soon as the ships were moored, he ordered the pieces to be brought ashore "for the Carpenters to set up." The rest of the company was set to the building of a fort upon the beach by the cutting down of trees, "and haling them together with great Pullies and halsers." The fort was built in the form of a pentagon, with a sort of sea-gate opening on the bay, for the easy launching of the pinnaces. This gate could be closed at night by the drawing of a log across the opening. They dug no trench, but cleared the ground instead, so that for twenty yards all round the stockhouse there was nothing to hinder a marksman or afford cover to an enemy. Beyond that twenty yards the forest closed in, with its wall of living greenery, with trees "of a marvellous height" tangled over with the brilliant blossoms of many creepers. The writer of the account seems to have been one of the building party that sweated the logs into position. "The wood of those trees," he writes, "is as heavie, or heavier, than Brasil or Lignum Vitæ, and is in colour white." The very next day an English barque came sailing into the anchorage, with two prizes, in her wake--"a Spanish Carvell of Sivell," which had despatches aboard her for the Governor of Nombre de Dios, and a shallop with oars, picked up off Cape Blanco to the eastward. She was the property of Sir Edward Horsey, at that time Governor of the Isle of Wight, a gallant gentleman, who received "sweetmeats and Canarie wine" from French pirates plying in the Channel. Her captain was one James Rawse, or Rause; and she carried thirty men, some of whom had been with Drake the year before. Captain Rause, on hearing Drake's intentions, was eager "to joyne in consort with him." We may well imagine that Drake cared little for his company; but conditions were agreed upon, an agreement signed, and the two crews set to work together. Within seven days the pinnaces had been set up, and launched, and stored with all things necessary. Then early one morning (the 20th of July) the ships got their anchors, and hoisted sail for Nombre de Dios, arriving three days later at the Isles of Pines, a group of little islands covered with fir-trees, not far to the west of the mouth of the Gulf of Darien. At the Pine Islands they found two frigates of Nombre de Dios, "lading plank and timber from thence," the soft fir wood being greatly in demand on the mainland, where the trees were harder, and difficult to work. The wood was being handled by negroes, who gave Drake some intelligence of the state of affairs at the little town he intended to attack. They said that the town was in a state of siege, expecting to be attacked at any moment by the armies of the Cimmeroons, who had "neere surprised it" only six weeks before. The Cimmeroons were "a black people, which about eighty yeares past, fledd from the Spaniards their Masters, by reason of their cruelty, and are since growne to a nation, under two Kings of their owne: the one inhabiteth to the west, th'other to the East of the way from Nombre de Dios to Panama." They were much dreaded by the Spaniards, with whom they were at constant war. The late alarm had caused the Governor to send to Panama for troops, and "certaine souldiers" were expected daily to aid in the defence of the town. Having gathered this intelligence Drake landed the negroes on the mainland, so that they might rejoin their countrymen if they wished to do so. In any case, by landing them so far from home he prevented them from giving information of his being in those waters. "For hee was loath to put the towne to too much charge (which hee knew they would willingly bestowe) in providing before hand, for his entertainment." But being anxious to avoid all possibility of discovery "he hastened his going thither, with as much speed and secrecy as possibly he could." It had taken him three days to get to the Isles of Pines from his secret harbour--a distance certainly not more than 120 miles. He now resolved to leave the three ships and the carvel--all four grown more or less foul-bottomed and slow--in the care of Captain Rause, with just sufficient men to work them. With the three dainty pinnaces and the oared shallop that Rause had taken, he hoped to make rather swifter progress than he had been making. He took with him in the four boats fifty-three of his own company and twenty of Captain Rause's men, arranging them in order according to the military text-book: "six Targets, six Firepikes, twelve Pikes, twenty-four Muskets and Callivers, sixteene Bowes, and six Partizans, two Drums, and two Trumpets"--making seventy-four men in all, the seventy-fourth being the commander, Drake. Having furnished the boats for the sea with his usual care Drake parted company, and sailed slowly to the westward, making about fifteen miles a day under oars and sails. Perhaps he sailed only at night, in order to avoid discovery and to rest his men. Early on the morning of the 28th July they landed "at the Island of Cativaas," or Catives, off the mouth of the St Francis River. Here Drake delivered them "their severall armes, which hitherto he had kept very faire and safe in good caske," so that neither the heavy dew nor the sea-water should rust them or wet the powder. He drilled them on the shore before the heat of the sun became too great, and after the drill he spoke to them "after his manner," declaring "the greatnes of the hope of good things that was there, the weaknesse of the towne being unwalled, and the hope he had of prevailing to recompence his wrongs ... especially ... as hee should be utterly undiscovered." In the afternoon, when the sun's strength was past, they set sail again, standing in close to the shore "that wee might not be descried of the watch-house." By sunset they were within two leagues of the point of the bay to the north-north-east of the town; and here they lowered their sails, and dropped anchor, "riding so untill it was darke night." When the night had fallen they stood in shore again, "with as much silence as wee could," till they were past the point of the harbour "under the high land," and "there wee stayed all silent, purposing to attempt the towne in the dawning of the day, after that wee had reposed ourselves for a while." NOMBRE DE DIOS Nombre de Dios was founded by Diego di Niqueza early in the sixteenth century, about the year 1510. It received its name from a remark the founder made on his first setting foot ashore: "Here we will found a settlement in the name of God." It was never a large place, for the bay lay exposed to the prevalent winds, being open to the north and north-east. There was fair holding ground; but the bay was shallow and full of rocks, and a northerly gale always raised such a sea that a ship was hardly safe with six anchors out. The district was very unhealthy, and the water found there was bad and in little quantity. There was, however, a spring of good water on an island at the mouth of the harbour. To the shoreward there were wooded hills, with marshy ground on their lower slopes, feeding a little river emptying to the north of the town. The houses came right down to the sea, and the trees right down to the houses, so that "tigers [_i.e._ jaguars] often came into the town," to carry away dogs, fowls, and children. Few ships lay there without burying a third of their hands; for the fever raged there, as it rages in some of the Brazilian ports at the present time. The place was also supposed to favour the spread of leprosy. The road to Panama entered the town at the south-east; and there was a gate at this point, though the town was never walled about. The city seems to have been built about a great central square, with straight streets crossing at right angles. Like Cartagena and Porto Bello, it was as dull as a city of the dead until the galleons came thither from Cartagena to take on board "the chests of gold and silver" received from the Governor of Panama and the golden lands to the south. When the galleons anchored, the merchants went ashore with their goods, and pitched sailcloth booths for them in the central square, and held a gallant fair till they were sold--most of the bartering being done by torchlight, in the cool of the night. Panama was distant some fifty-five miles; and the road thither was extremely bad, owing to the frequent heavy rains and the consequent flooding of the trackway. At the time of Drake's raid, there were in all some sixty wooden houses in the place, inhabited in the _tiempo muerto_, or dead time, by about thirty people. "The rest," we read, "doe goe to Panama after the fleet is gone." Those who stayed must have had a weary life of it, for there could have been nothing for them to do save to go a-fishing. The fever never left the place, and there was always the dread of the Cimmeroons. Out in the bay there was the steaming water, with a few rotten hulks waiting to be cast ashore, and two or three rocky islets sticking up for the sea to break against. There was nothing for an inhabitant to do except to fish, and nothing for him to see except the water, with the dripping green trees beside it, and, perhaps, an advice boat slipping past for Cartagena. Once a year an express came to the bay from Panama to say that the Peru fleet had arrived at that port. A letter was then sent to Cartagena or to San Juan d'Ulloa to order the great galleons there anchored to come to collect the treasure, and convey it into Spain. Before they dropped anchor in the Nombre de Dios bay that city was filled to overflowing by soldiers and merchants from Panama and the adjacent cities. Waggons of maize and cassava were dragged into the streets, with numbers of fowls and hogs. Lodgings rose in value, until a "middle chamber" could not be had for less than 1000 crowns. Desperate efforts were made to collect ballast for the supply ships. Then the treasure trains from Panama began to arrive. Soldiers marched in, escorting strings of mules carrying chests of gold and silver, goatskins filled with bezoar stones, and bales of vicuna wool. The town became musical with the bells of the mules' harness. Llamas spat and hissed at the street corners. The Plaza became a scene of gaiety and bustle. Folk arrived hourly by the muddy track from Panama. Ships dropped anchor hourly, ringing their bells and firing salutes of cannon. The grand fair then began, and the city would be populous and stirring till the galleons had cleared the harbour on the voyage to Spain. As soon as the fleet was gone the city emptied as rapidly as it had filled. The merchants and merry-makers vanished back to Panama, and the thirty odd wretched souls who stayed, began their dreary vigil until the next year, when the galleons returned. In 1584, on the report of Antonio Baptista, surveyor to the King of Spain, the trade was removed to Porto Bello, a beautiful bay, discovered and named by Columbus, lying some twenty miles farther to the west. It is a good harbour for all winds, and offers every convenience for the careening of vessels. The surveyor thought it in every way a superior harbour. "Neither," he writes, "will so many die there as there daily doe in Nombre de Dios." By the middle of the seventeenth century the ruins of the old town were barely discernible; but all traces of them have long since disappeared. Dampier (writing of the year 1682) says that: "I have lain ashore in the place where that City stood; but it is all overgrown with Wood; so as toe leave noe sign that any Town hath been there." A thick green cane brake has overgrown the Plaza. The battery has crumbled away. The church bell which made such a clatter has long since ceased to sound. The latest Admiralty Chart ignores the place. [Illustration: NOMBRE DE DIOS] The Cimmeroons frequently attacked the city while it was in occupation. Once they captured and destroyed it. Drake visited the town a second time in 1595. It was then a "bigge" town, having large streets and "houses very hie, all built of timber," "one church very faire," and "a show in their shops of great store of merchandises that had been there."[1] There was a mill above the town, and a little watch-house "upon the top of another hill in the woods." To the east there was a fresh river "with houses, and all about it gardens." The native quarter was some miles away in the woods. Drake burned the town, a deed which caused the inhabitants to migrate to Porto Bello. It was at Nombre de Dios that Drake contracted the flux of which he died. The town witnessed his first triumph and final discomfiture. [Footnote 1: This was eleven years after the royal mandate ordering the transference of the main trade of the place to Porto Bello. Perhaps the town retained much of the trade, in spite of the mandate, as the transference involved the making of a new mule track across the bogs and crags between Venta Cruz and Porto Bello. Such a track would have taken several years to lay.] _Note._--The authorities for this and the following chapters are: 1. "Sir Francis Drake Reviv'd" (first published in 1626), by Philip Nichols, Preacher, helped, no doubt, by Drake himself and some of his company. 2. The scanty notice of the raid given in Hakluyt. 3. The story of Lopez Vaz, a Portuguese, also in Hakluyt. For the description of Nombre de Dios I have trusted to the account of Drake's last voyage printed in Hakluyt, vol. iii. p. 587. In the same collection there is a translation from a very interesting report by a Spanish commissioner to the King of Spain. This paper gives reasons for the transference of the town to Porto Bello. One or two Ruttiers, or Mariner's Guides, make mention of the port, and of these the best is given in Hakluyt. It is also mentioned (but very curtly) in Herrera's History, in Dampier's Voyages, and in the account left by Champlain after his short visit to Panama. I know of no plan or picture of the place. The drawing reproduced here, from Schenk's "Hecatompolis," is purely imaginary, however pretty. For my remarks on "Cruces," or Venta Cruz, I am indebted to friends who have lived many years in Panama, and to an interesting article in _The Geographical Journal_ (December-July 1903, p. 325), by Colonel G. E. Church, M. Am. Soc. C.E. CHAPTER II THE ATTACK ON NOMBRE DE DIOS The treasure of the Indies--The Bastimentos--A Spanish herald It may now have been ten o'clock at night, and we may reckon that the boats were still four or five miles from the town, the lights of which, if any burned, must have been plainly visible to the south and south-south-west. To many of those who rocked there in the bay the coming tussle was to be the first engagement. The night wind may have seemed a little chilly, and the night and the strange town full of terrors. The men fell to talking in whispers, and the constraint and strangeness of it all, the noise of the clucking water, the cold of the night, and the thought of what the negro lumbermen had said, began to get upon their nerves. They talked of the strength of the town (and indeed, although it was an open bay, without good water, it had at that time much of the importance of Porto Bello, in the following century). They talked "especially" of the reported troop of soldiers from Panama, for Spanish infantry were the finest in the world, and the presence of a company in addition to the garrison would be enough to beat off the little band in the boats. Drake heard these conversations, and saw his young men getting out of hand, and "thought it best to put these conceits out of their heads." As the moon rose he persuaded them "that it was the day dawning"--a fiction made the more easy by the intervention of the high land between the watchers and the horizon. By the growing light the boats stole farther in, arriving "at the towne, a large hower sooner than first was purposed. For wee arrived there by three of the clock after midnight." It happened that a "ship of _Spaine_, of sixtie Tunnes, laden with Canary wines and other commodities" had but newly arrived in the bay, "and had not yet furld her sprit-saile." It was the custom for ships to discharge half of their cargoes at one of the islands in the bay, so as to draw less water when they ventured farther in. Perhaps this ship of Spain was about to discharge her butts and tierces. At any rate her men were on deck, and the light of the moon enabled them to see the four pinnaces, "an extraordinary number" in so small a port, rowing hard, "with many Oares," towards the landing. The Spaniards sent away their "Gundeloe," or small boat (gondola, as we should say), to warn the townsmen; but Drake edged a little to the west, cutting in between the boat and the shore, so as to force her "to goe to th'other side of the Bay." Drake's boats then got ashore upon the sands, not more than twenty yards from the houses, directly under a battery. There was no quay, and no sea-sentry save a single gunner, asleep among the guns, who fled as they clambered up the redoubt. Inside the little fort there were six great pieces of brass ordnance, some demi- some whole culverin, throwing shot of 10-18 lbs. weight for a distance of a mile. It did not take long to dismount these guns, and spike them, by beating soft metal nails into the touch-holes, and snapping them off flush with the orifice. But though the men worked quickly the gunner was quicker yet. He ran through the narrow streets, shouting the alarm, and the town woke up like one man, expecting that the Cimmeroons were on them from the woods. Someone ran to the church, and set the great bell swinging. The windows went up, and the doors slammed, as the townsfolk hurried to their weapons, and out into the streets. The place rang with cries and with the rapid beating of the drums, for the drummers ran about the streets beating vigorously to rouse out the soldiers. Drake made the battery harmless and set a guard of twelve men over the boats on the sand. He then marched hurriedly to the little hill commanding the bay, to the east of the houses; for he had heard some talk of a battery being placed there, "which might scour round about the town," and he wished to put it out of action before venturing upon the city. He left half his company, about thirty men, to keep the foot of the hill, and climbed to the summit, where he found a "very fit place prepared," but no guns in position. He returned to the company at the foot of the mount, and bade his brother, with John Oxnam, or Oxenham, a gallant captain, and sixteen men, "to go about, behind the King's Treasure House, and enter near the easter end of the Market Place." He himself with the rest would pass up the broad street into the market-place with sound of drum and trumpet. The firepikes, "divided half to the one, and half to the other company, served no less for fright to the enemy than light of our men, who by this means might discern every place very well as if it were near day." The drums beat up gallantly, the trumpets blew points of war, and the poor citizens, scared from their beds, and not yet sure of their enemy, stood shivering in the dawn, "marvelling what the matter might be." In a few moments the two companies were entering the Plaza, making a dreadful racket as they marched, to add to the confusion of the townsfolk, who thought them far stronger than they really were. The soldiers of the garrison, with some of the citizens, fell into some sort of order "at the south east end of the Market Place, near the Governor's House, and not far from the gate of the town." They chose this position because it secured them a retreat, in the event of a repulse, along the road to Panama. The western end of the Plaza had been hung with lines, from which lighted matches dangled, so that the enemy might think that troops were there, "whereas indeed there were not past two or three that taught these lines to dance," and even these ran away as soon as the firepikes displayed the fraud. The church bell was still ringing at the end of the Plaza, and the townsfolk were still crying out as they ran for Panama, when Drake's party stormed into the square from the road leading to the sea. As they hove in sight the Spanish troops gave them "a jolly hot volley of shot," aimed very low, so as to ricochet from the sand. Drake's men at once replied with a volley from their calivers and a flight of arrows, "fine roving shafts," which did great execution. Without waiting to reload they at once charged in upon the Spaniards, coming at once "to push of pike" and point and edge. The hurry of the surprise was such that the Spaniards had no side-arms, and when once the English had closed, their troops were powerless. As the parties met, the company under Oxenham came into the Plaza at the double, by the eastern road, with their trumpets blowing and the firepikes alight. The Spaniards made no further fight of it. They flung their weapons down, and fled along the forest road. For a little distance the cheering sailors followed them, catching their feet in muskets and linstocks, which the troops had flung away in their hurry. Having dispersed the enemy, the men reformed in the Plaza, "where a tree groweth hard by the Cross." Some hands were detailed to stop the ringing of the alarm bell, which still clanged crazily in the belfry; but the church was securely fastened, and it was found impossible to stop the ringing without setting the place on fire, which Drake forbade. While the men were trying to get into the church, Drake forced two or three prisoners to show him the Governor's house, where the mule trains from Panama were unloaded. Only the silver was stored in that place; for the gold, pearls, and jewels, "being there once entered by the King's officer," were locked in a treasure-house, "very strongly built of lime and stone," at a little distance from the Cross, not far from the water-side. At the Governor's house they found the door wide open, and "a fair gennet ready saddled" waiting for the Governor to descend. A torch or candle was burning on the balcony, and by its light the adventurers saw "a huge heap of silver" in the open space beneath the dwelling-rooms. It was a pile of bars of silver, heaped against the wall in a mass that was roughly estimated to be seventy feet in length, ten feet across, and twelve feet high--each bar weighing about forty pounds. The men were for breaking their ranks in order to plunder the pile; but Drake bade them stand to their arms. The King's treasure-house, he said, contained more gold and pearls than they could take away; and presently, he said, they would break the place open, and see what lay within. He then marched his men back into the Plaza. All this time the town was filled with confusion. Guns were being fired and folk were crying out in the streets. It was not yet light, and certain of the garrison, who had been quartered outside the city, ran to and fro with burning matches, shouting out "Que gente? Que gente?" The town at that time was very full of people, and this noise and confusion, and the sight of so many running figures, began to alarm the boat guard on the beach. One Diego, a negro, who had joined them on the sands, had told them that the garrison had been reinforced only eight days before by 150 Spanish soldiers. This report, coupled with the anxiety of their position, seems to have put the boat party into a panic. They sent off messengers to Drake, saying that the pinnaces were "in danger to be taken," and that the force would be overwhelmed as soon as it grew light enough for the Spaniards to see the littleness of the band which had attacked them. Diego's words confirmed the statements of the lumbermen at the Isles of Pines. The men of Drake's party were young. They had never fought before. They had been on the rack, as it were, for several days. They were now quite out of hand, and something of their panic began to spread among the party on the Plaza. Before Drake could do more than despatch his brother, with John Oxenham, to reassure the guard, and see how matters stood, the situation became yet more complicated. "A mighty shower of rain, with a terrible storm of thunder and lightning," burst furiously upon them, making such a roaring that none could hear his own voice. As in all such storms, the rain came down in a torrent, hiding the town from view in a blinding downpour. The men ran for the shelter of "a certain shade or penthouse, at the western end of the King's Treasure House," but before they could gain the cover some of their bowstrings were wetted "and some of our match and powder hurt." As soon as the shelter had been reached, the bowstrings were shifted, the guns reprimed, and the match changed upon the linstocks. While the industrious were thus employed, a number of the hands began talking of the reports which had reached them from the boats. They were "muttering of the forces of the town," evidently anxious to be gone from thence, or at least stirring. Drake heard the muttered talk going up and down the shed, and promptly told the men that he had brought them to the mouth of the Treasure of the World, and that if they came away without it they might blame nobody but themselves. At the end of a "long half-hour" the storm began to abate, and Drake felt that he must put an end to the panic. It was evidently dangerous to allow the men any "longer leisure to demur of those doubts," nor was it safe to give the enemy a chance of rallying. He stepped forward, bidding his brother, with John Oxenham and his party, to break open the King's treasure-house, while he, with the remainder of the hands, maintained the Plaza. "But as he stepped forward his strength and sight and speech failed him, and he began to faint for want of blood." He had been hit in the leg with a bullet at the first encounter, yet in the greatness of his heart he had not complained, although suffering considerable pain. He had seen that many of his men had "already gotten many good things" from the booths and houses in the Plaza, and he knew very well that these men would take the first opportunity to slink away down to the boats. He had, therefore, said nothing about his wound, nor was it light enough for his men to see that he was bleeding. On his fainting they noticed that the sand was bloody, "the blood having filled the very first prints which our footsteps made"--a sight which amazed and dismayed them, for they "thought it not credible" that a man should "spare so much blood and live." They gave him a cordial to drink, "wherewith he recovered himself," and bound his scarf about his leg "for the stopping of the blood." They then entreated him "to be content to go with them aboard," there to have his wound probed and dressed before adventuring farther. This did not satisfy Drake, for he knew very well that if the Spaniards rallied, the town would be lost, for it was "utterly impossible, at least very unlikely, that ever they should, for that time, return again, to recover the state in which they now were." He begged them to leave him where he was, and to get the treasure, for "it were more honourable for himself to jeopard his life for so great a benefit, than to leave off so high an enterprise unperformed." But to this the men would not listen. With Drake, their captain, alive "they might recover wealth sufficient" at any time, but with Drake dead "they should hardly be able to recover home." Those who had picked up a little booty in the raid were only too glad of an excuse to get to the boats, while those who were most eager to break the treasure-house, would not allow Drake to put his life in hazard. Drake, poor man, was spent with loss of blood, and could not reason with them, so that, "with force mingled with fair entreaty, they bare him aboard his pinnace, and so abandoned a most rich spoil for the present, only to preserve their Captain's life." It was just daybreak when they got to the boats, so that they were able to take stock of each other in the early morning light before shoving off from the beach. They had lost but one man, "a trumpeter," who was shot dead in the Plaza in the first assault, "his Trumpet still in his hand." Many were wounded, but the Captain's wound seems to have been the most serious. As they rowed out from the town the surgeons among them provided remedies and salves for the wounded. As they neared the open sea the men took the opportunity to attack "the aforesaid ship of wines," for "the more comfort of the company." They made her a prize with no great trouble, but before they got her clear of the haven they received a shot or two from the dismantled battery. One of the culverins which they had tumbled to the ground was remounted by some of the garrison, "so as they made a shot at us." The shot did not hit the mark, and the four boats, with their prize, got clear away to the Isle of Bastimentos, or Isle of Victuals, about a league to the westward of the harbour. They stayed there for the next two days, to cure the wounded men and to refresh themselves, "in the goodly gardens which we there found." The island was stocked with dainty roots and fruits, "besides great plenty of poultry," for it served the citizens as a farm and market-garden, "from which their fresh provisions were derived." Soon after they had come to anchor, and established themselves among the fruit-trees, a flag of truce came off from the Governor of the city. It was carried by a Spanish captain, who had come to Nombre de Dios with the company of troops from Panama. He was a handsome gentleman, of a delicate carriage and of an elaborate politeness. He was come, of course, as a spy, but he began with the assurance that he came "of mere good will," to see the heroes who had attempted the town with so small a party. At the first, he said, the townsfolk had thought them Frenchmen, from whom they looked for little mercy, but that afterwards, when the arrows had shown them that they were English, they had less fear, for they knew the humanity of that race. Although, he said, his curiosity to see such brave folk were sufficient warrant for his adventuring among them, he had also a commission from the Governor. That gentleman wished to know whether their captain was the same Captain Drake, of whom some of the townsfolk talked as being so kind to his prisoners. He then asked whether the arrows used in the battle in the Plaza had been poisoned, for many Spaniards had been wounded by them, and would fain know how to treat the wounds. Lastly he wished to know whether they were in need of victuals or other necessaries, pledging the Governor's word that he would do all he could to supply anything they wanted. The questions seem to us a little transparent, and so they seemed to Drake, but Drake was always a courteous and ceremonious gentleman. He replied that he was the Captain Drake they meant; that "it was never his manner to use poisoned arrows"; that the wounds could be cured by the usual methods; and that as for wants, the Isle of Bastimentos would supply him. He wanted nothing, he said, "but some of that special commodity which that country yielded." And, therefore, he advised the Governor "to hold open his eyes, for before he departed, if God lent him life and leave, he meant to reap some of their harvest, which they got out of the earth, and send into Spain to trouble all the earth." The answer seems to have nettled the Spanish spy, for he asked ("if he might, without offence, move such a question") why the English had left the town when 360 tons of silver, with gold to a far greater value, had been lying at their mercy. Drake showed him the "true cause" of his unwilling retreat to the pinnaces. The answer moved the Spaniard to remark that "the English had no less reason in departing, than courage in attempting,"--a remark made with a mental note that the townsfolk would be well advised to leave this Drake alone on his island, without sending boats out to attack him. Drake then entertained the spy to dinner, "with great favour and courteous entertainment, and such gifts as most contented him." As he made his way to his boat after dinner he vowed and protested that "he was never so much honoured of any in his life." He must have had a curious story for the Governor when he got ashore to the town. As soon as the trumpets had sounded the departure of the flag of truce, Drake sent for Diego, the negro, who had joined the boat party in the morning. From Diego he learned many "intelligences of importance," none of them, perhaps, more grateful to Drake than the news that his name was highly honoured among the Maroons or Cimmeroons. Diego begged that Drake would give him an opportunity of treating with the chiefs of these savages, as by their help, he said, they "might have gold and silver enough." The matter was debated among the company, while Drake gave effect to another of his plans. Not more than thirty miles away along the coast was a certain river, "the River of Chagres," which trended in a south-easterly direction towards Panama across the isthmus. It was navigable to within six leagues of Panama, and at the point to which it was navigable there stood "a little town called Venta Cruz." When the road from Panama to Nombre de Dios was impracticable, owing to the rains, or the raids of the Maroons, the treasure was carried to Venta Cruz, and there shipped aboard swift vessels, built for oars and sails, which carried the precious stuff to Nombre de Dios. Drake had a mind to look into Venta Cruz to surprise some of the treasure on its way. He, therefore, sent away his brother, with two pinnaces and a steady man named Ellis Hixom, to examine the Chagres River, and to bring back a report of its fitness for boats such as theirs. Having seen them stand to the west, Drake ordered his men aboard early in the morning of the 31st July. The sweeps were shipped and the sails hoisted, and the pinnaces made off with their captured wine ship to rejoin Captain Rause at the Isles of Pines, or Port Plenty. They arrived at their haven on the evening of the 1st of August, after a sail of thirty-six hours. Captain Rause was angry that the raid had not been more successful, and felt that it was useless to stay longer in those seas, now that the Spaniards knew that they were on the coast. He waited till the pinnaces returned from Chagres River, as some of his hands were in them; but as soon as they arrived he parted company, after dissolving partnership with Drake. Drake seems to have been glad to see him go. CHAPTER III THE CRUISE OFF THE MAIN The cruise of the pinnaces--Cartagena--The secret haven--Death of John Drake While they were waiting for the pinnaces Drake had the ships set in order, the arms scoured, and everything made ready for the next adventure. He had taken Nombre de Dios so easily that he felt confident of treating Cartagena, the chiefest town in those waters, in the same way. On the 7th of August he set sail for Cartagena with his two ships and three pinnaces, making no attempt upon the mainland as he sailed, as he did not wish to be discovered. He met with calms and light airs on the passage, and did not arrive off Cartagena until the evening of the 13th August. He came to anchor in seven-fathom water between the islands of Charesha (which we cannot now identify) and St Barnards, now known as San Barnardo. As soon as the sails were furled, Drake manned his three pinnaces, and rowed about the island into the harbour of Cartagena, "where, at the very entry, he found a frigate at anchor." He hooked on to her chains, and boarded her, finding her an easy spoil, for she had been left in the care of "only one old man." They asked this old sailor where the rest of the company had gone. He answered that they were gone ashore in their gundeloe that evening, to fight about a mistress, adding that about two hours before, a pinnace had gone past under sail, with her oars out, and the men rowing furiously. Her men had hailed his vessel as they passed, asking whether any French or English men had been there. Upon answer that there had been none they bade him look to himself, and rowed on up the coast. Within an hour of their going past the harbour the city batteries had fired many cannon, as though some danger were toward. One of the old man's mates had then gone aloft "to descry what might be the cause." He had looked over the narrow neck of land which shuts the harbour from the sea, and had espied "divers frigates and small shipping bringing themselves within the Castle." This report showed Drake that he had been discovered, but the information did not greatly move him. He gathered from the old mariner that a great ship of Seville lay moored just round the next point, with her yards across, "being bound the next morning for St Domingo," or Hispaniola. Drake "took this old man into his pinnace to verify that which he had informed, and rowed towards this ship." As he drew near, the Spanish mariners hailed them, asking "whence the shallops came." Drake answered: "From Nombre de Dios." His answer set the Spaniards cursing and damning him for a heretic English buccaneer. "We gave no heed to their words," says the narrative, but hooked on to the chains and ports, on the starboard bow, starboard quarter, and port beam, and laid her aboard without further talk. It was something of a task to get on board, for the ship stood high in the water, being of 240 tons, (and as far as we can judge) in ballast. Having gained the ship's waist they tossed the gratings and hatch covers down into the lower decks. The Spaniards gave up the ship without fighting, and retired, with their weapons, to the hold. Two or three of their younger seamen went forward, and hid in the manger, where they were found as soon as the dark decks were lit by a lantern from the pinnaces. The raiders then cut the ship's cables, and towed her "without the island into the sound right afore the town," just beyond the shot of the citizens' great guns. As they towed her out, the town took the alarm, the bells were rung, thirty great cannon were fired, and the garrison, both horse and foot, well armed with calivers, marched down "to the very point of the wood," to impeach them "if they might" in their going out to sea. The next morning (Drake being still within the outer harbour) he captured two Spanish frigates "in which there were two, who called themselves King's Scrivanos [notaries] the one of Cartagena, the other of Veragua." The boats, which were sparsely manned, had been at Nombre de Dios at the time of the raid. They were now bound for Cartagena with double letters of advice, "to certify that Captain Drake had been at Nombre de Dios, and taken it; and had it not been that he was hurt with some blessed shot, by all likelihood he had sacked it. He was yet still upon the coast," ran the letter, "and they should therefore carefully prepare for him." Sailing out of the haven (by the Boca Chica, or Little Mouth) Drake set his pinnaces ashore, and stood away to the San Barnardo Islands, to the south of the town, where he found "great store of fish" as a change of diet for his men. He then cruised up and down among the islands, considering what he should attempt. He had been discovered at the two chief cities on the Main, but he had not yet made his voyage (_i.e._ it had not yet paid expenses), and until he had met with the Maroons, and earned "a little comfortable dew of Heaven," he meant to stay upon the coast. He, therefore, planned to diminish his squadron, for with the two ships to keep it was difficult to man the pinnaces, and the pinnaces had proved peculiarly fitted for the work in hand. With one ship destroyed, and the other converted into a storeship, his movements would, he thought, be much less hampered; "but knowing the affection of his company, how loath they were to leave either of their ships, being both so good sailers and so well furnished; he purposed in himself some policy to make them most willing to effect what he intended." He, therefore, sent for Thomas Moone, who was carpenter aboard the _Swan_, and held a conference with him in the cabin. Having pledged him to secrecy, he gave him an order to scuttle that swift little ship in the middle of the second watch, or two in the morning. He was "to go down secretly into the well of the ship, and with a spike-gimlet to bore three holes, as near the keel as he could, and lay something against it [oakum or the like] that the force of the water entering, might make no great noise, nor be discovered by a boiling up." Thomas Moone "at the hearing hereof" was utterly dismayed, for to him the project seemed flat burglary as ever was committed. Why, he asked, should the Captain want to sink so good a ship, a ship both "new and strong," in which they had sailed together in two "rich and gainfull" voyages? If the Captain's brother (John Drake, who was master of the _Swan_) and the rest of the company (twenty-six hands in all) should catch him at such practices he thought verily they would heave him overboard. However, Drake promised that the matter should be kept secret "till all of them should be glad of it." On these terms Moone consented to scuttle the _Swan_ that night. The next morning, a little after daybreak, Drake called away his pinnace, "proposing to go a-fishing." Rowing down to the _Swan_ he hailed her, asking his brother to go with him. John Drake was in his bunk at the time, and replied that "he would follow presently," or if it would please him to stay a very little he would attend him. Drake saw that the deed was done; for the _Swan_ was slowly settling. He would not stay for his brother, but asked casually, "as making no great account of it," why their barque was so deep in the sea. John Drake thought little of the question, but sent a man down to the steward, who had charge of the hold, to inquire "whether there were any water in the ship, or what other cause might be?" The steward, "hastily stepping down at his usual scuttle," was wet to the waist before he reached the foot of the ladder. Very greatly scared he hurried out of the hold, "as if the water had followed him," crying out that the ship was full of water. John Drake at once called all hands to mend ship, sending some below to find the leak and the remainder to the pumps. The men turned to "very willingly," so that "there was no need to hasten them," and John Drake left them at their work while he reported the "strange chance" to his brother. He could not understand how it had happened. They had not pumped twice in six weeks before, and now they had six feet of water in the hold. He hoped his brother would give him "leave from attending him in fishing," as he wished to find the leak without delay. Drake offered to send the _Pascha's_ men abroad to take a spell at the pumps, but this John Drake did not wish. He had men enough, he said; and he would like his brother to continue his fishing, so that they might have fresh fish for dinner. On getting back to the _Swan_ he found that the pumps had gained very little on the leak, "yet such was their love to the bark, ... that they ceased not, but to the utmost of their strength laboured all that they might, till three in the afternoon." By that time the _Pascha's_ men, helped by Drake himself, had taken turn about at the pump brakes, and the pumping had been carried on for eight or nine hours without ceasing. The pumping had freed her only about a foot and a half, and the leak was still undiscovered. The men were tired out, for the sun was now at his hottest, and Drake adds slyly that they "had now a less liking of her than before, and greater content to hear of some means for remedy." We gather from what follows, that when he asked them what they wished to do, they left it all to him. He, therefore, suggested that John Drake should go aboard the _Pascha_ as her captain. He himself, he said, would shift into a pinnace; while the _Swan_ should be set on fire, and abandoned as soon as her gear was taken out of her. The pinnaces came aboard the sinking ship, and the men pillaged her of all her stores. Powder, tar, and the like were scattered about her decks; and she was then set on fire, and watched until she sank. Thus "our Captain had his desire, and men enough for his pinnaces." The next morning, the 16th August, the squadron bore away for the Gulf of Darien, to find some secret harbour where they might leave the ship at anchor, "not discoverable by the enemy," who thereby might imagine them quite departed from the coast. Drake intended to take two of the pinnaces along the Main as soon as they had hidden away the _Pascha_, for he was minded to go a cruise up the Rio Grande, or Magdalena River. In his absence John Drake was to take the third pinnace, with Diego, the negro, as a guide, to open up communications with the Cimmeroons. By the 21st of August they arrived in the Gulf; and Drake sought out a secret anchorage, far from any trade route, where the squadron might lie quietly till the fame of their being on the coast might cease. They found a place suited to their needs, and dropped their anchors in its secret channels, in "a fit and convenient road," where a sailor might take his ease over a rum bowl. Drake took his men ashore, and cleared a large plot of ground "both of trees and brakes" as a site for a little village, trimly thatched with palm leaves, which was built by Diego, the negro, after the Indian fashion, for the "more comfort of the company." The archers made themselves butts to shoot at, because they had "many that delighted in that exercise and wanted not a fletcher to keep the bows and arrows in order." The rest of the company, "every one as he liked best," disported merrily at bowls and quoits, fleeting the time carelessly as they did in the Golden Age. "For our Captain allowed one half of the company to pass their time thus, every other day interchangeable," the other half of the crew being put to the provision of fresh food and the necessary work aboard the vessels. Drake took especial interest in trying the powers of the pinnaces, trimming them in every conceivable way, so as to learn their capacity under any circumstance. The smiths set up their forge, "being furnished out of England with anvil, iron, and coals" (surely Drake never forgot anything), which stood the expedition "in great stead," for, no doubt, there was much iron-work that needed repair. The country swarmed with conies, hogs, deer, and fowl, so that the men lived upon fresh meat, or upon the fish in the creeks, "whereof there was great plenty." The woods were full of wholesome fruits, though, perhaps, the water of the neighbouring rivers was not quite all that could be wished. They stayed in this pleasant haven for fifteen days, at the end of which Drake took his two pinnaces, leaving John Drake behind in charge of the _Pascha_ and the remaining pinnace, and sailed away along the coast to explore the Rio Grande. He kept the pinnaces far out at sea to avoid discovery, and landed on the 8th of September about six miles to the westward of the river's mouth, in order to obtain some fresh beef from the Indian cowherds. The district was then rich pasture-land, as rich as the modern pastures in Argentina. It was grazed over by vast herds of cattle, savage and swift, which the Spaniards placed in charge of Indian cowboys. When the beeves were slaughtered, their meat was dried into charqui, or "boucanned," over a slow fire, into which the hide was thrown. It was then sent down to Cartagena, for the provisioning of the galleons going home. The province (Nueva Reyna) was less pestilential than its westward neighbours. Sugar was grown there in the semi-marshy tracts near the river. Gold was to be found there in considerable quantities, and there were several pearl fisheries upon the coasts. The district was more populous than any part of Spanish America, for it was not only healthier, but more open, affording little cover for Maroons. [Illustration: CARTAGENA] On landing, Drake met some Indians in charge of a herd of steers. They asked him in broken Spanish "What they would have." Drake gave them to understand that he wished to buy some fresh meat, upon which they picked out several cattle "with ease and so readily, as if they had a special commandment over them, whereas they would not abide us to come near them." The Indians have just that skill in handling cattle which the negroes have in handling mules. They did Drake this service willingly, "because our Captain, according to his custom, contented them for their pains with such things as they account greatly of." He left them in high good humour, promising him that if he came again he should have what he desired of them. Drake left the shore as soon as his pinnaces were laden with fresh meat, and sailed on up the coast till he reached the lesser, or western, mouth of the Rio Grande, "where we entered about three of the clock." The river runs with a great fierceness, so that the hands were able to draw fresh water "for their beverage" a mile and a half from the mouth. It was a current almost too fierce to row against in the hot sun, so that five hours' hard rowing only brought them six miles on their way upstream. They then moored the pinnaces to a great tree that grew on the bank. They ate their suppers in that place, hoping to pass a quiet evening, but with the darkness there came such a terrible thunderstorm "as made us not a little to marvel at," though Drake assured the younger men that in that country such storms soon passed. It wetted them to the bone, no doubt, but within three-quarters of an hour it had blown over and become calm. Immediately the rain had ceased, the air began to hum with many wings, and forth came "a kind of flies of that country, called mosquitoes, like our gnats," which bit them spitefully as they lay in the bottoms of the boats. It was much too hot to lie beneath a blanket, and the men did not know how to kindle a "smudge" of smouldering aromatic leaves. They had no pork fat nor paraffin to rub upon their hands and faces, according to the modern practice, and "the juice of lemons," which gave them a little relief, must have been a poor substitute. "We could not rest all that night," says the narrative. At daybreak the next morning they rowed away from that place, "rowing in the eddy" along the banks, where the current helped them. Where the eddy failed, as in swift and shallow places, they hauled the boats up with great labour by making a hawser fast to a tree ahead, and hauling up to it, as on a guess-warp. The work of rowing, or warping, was done by spells, watch and watch, "each company their half-hour glass," till about three in the afternoon, by which time they had come some fifteen miles. They passed two Indians who sat in a canoe a-fishing; but the Indians took them to be Spaniards, and Drake let them think so, for he did not wish to be discovered. About an hour later they espied "certain houses on the other side of the river," a mile or so from them, the river being very broad--so great, says the narrative, "that a man can scantly be discerned from side to side." A Spaniard, who had charge of those houses, espied them from the vantage of the bank, and promptly kindled a smoke "for a signal to turn that way," being lonely up there in the wilds, and anxious for news of the world. As they rowed across the current to him he waved to them "with his hat and his long hanging sleeves" to come ashore, but as soon as he perceived them to be foreigners he took to his heels, and fled from the river-side. The adventurers found that he was a sort of store or warehouse keeper, in charge of five houses "all full of white rusk, dried bacon, that country cheese (like Holland cheese in fashion--_i.e._ round--but far more delicate in taste, of which they send into Spain as special presents), many sorts of sweetmeats, and conserves; with great store of sugar: being provided to serve the fleet returning to Spain." As they loaded their pinnaces with these provisions they talked with a poor Indian woman, who told them that about thirty trading vessels were expected from Cartagena. The news caused them to use despatch in their lading, so that by nightfall they were embarked again, and rowing downstream against the wind. The Spaniards of Villa del Rey, a city some two miles inland from the storehouses, endeavoured to hinder their passage by marching their Indians to the bushes on the river-bank, and causing them to shoot their arrows as the boats rowed past. They did not do any damage to the adventurers, who rowed downstream a few miles, and then moored their boats for the night. Early the next morning they reached the mouth of the river, and here they hauled ashore to put the pinnaces in trim. The provisions were unloaded, and the boats thoroughly cleansed, after which the packages were stowed securely, so as to withstand the tossings of the seas. The squadron then proceeded to the westward, going out of their course for several miles in order to overhaul a Spanish barque. They "imagined she had some gold or treasure going for Spain," but on search in her hold they could find only sugar and hides. They, therefore, let her go, and stood off again for the secret harbour. The next day they took some five or six small frigates, bound from Santiago de Tolu to Cartagena, with ladings of "live hogs, hens, and maize, which we call Guinea wheat." They examined the crews of these ships for news "of their preparations for us," and then dismissed them, reserving only two of the half-dozen prizes "because they were so well stored with good victuals." Three days later they arrived at the hidden anchorage, which Drake called Port Plenty, because of abundance of "good victuals" that they took while lying there. Provision ships were passing continually, either to Nombre de Dios or Cartagena, with food for the citizens or for the victualling of the plate fleets. "So that if we had been two thousand, yea, three thousand, persons, we might with our pinnaces easily have provided them sufficient victuals of wine, meal, rusk, cassavi (a kind of bread made of a root called Yucca, whose juice is poison, but the substance good and wholesome), dried beef, dried fish, live sheep, live hogs, abundance of hens, besides the infinite store of dainty fresh fish, very easily to be taken every day." So much food was taken, that the company, under the direction of Diego, the negro, were forced to build "four several magazines or storehouses, some ten, some twenty leagues asunder," on the Main, or on the islands near it, for its storage. They intended to stay upon the coast until their voyage was "made," and, therefore, needed magazines of the kind for the future plenishing of their lazarettoes. We read that Diego, the negro, was of special service to them in the building of these houses, for, like all the Maroons, he was extremely skilful at the craft. They were probably huts of mud and wattle, thatched with palm leaves, "with a Sort of Door made of Macaw-Wood, and Bamboes." From these magazines Drake relieved two French ships "in extreme want"; while his men and their allies the Cimmeroons lived at free quarters all the time they stayed there. While the Captain had been cruising up the Magdalena, his brother, John Drake, had been westward along the coast with Diego, "the Negro aforesaid," in his pinnace. Diego had landed on the coast to talk with "certain of the Cimmeroons," who exchanged hostages with Drake's party, and agreed upon a meeting-place at a little river midway between the Cabezas, or "Headlands," and the anchorage. Drake talked with these hostages as soon as he arrived from the seas. He found them two "very sensible men," most ready to help him against the common enemy. They told him that "their Nation conceited great joy of his arrivall"; for they had heard of Nombre de Dios and of his former raids upon the coast, and gladly welcomed the suggested alliance. Their chief and tribe, they said, were encamped near the aforementioned little river, the Rio Diego, to await Drake's decision. Having compared the talk of these men with the reports he had gathered from the Indian cowherds and Spanish prisoners, he consulted his brother (who had seen the Maroons at the Rio Diego camp), and asked "those of best service with him" what were fittest to be done. John Drake advised that the ships should proceed to the westward, to the Rio Diego, for near the mouth of that stream he had discovered a choice hiding-place. It could be reached by many channels, but only by the most careful pilotage, for the channels were full of rocks and shoals. The channels twisted sluggishly among a multitude of islands, which were gorgeous with rhododendron shrubs, and alive with butterflies, blue and scarlet, that sunned themselves, in blots of colour, upon the heavy green leaves. Among the blossomed branches there were parrots screaming, and the little hummingbirds, like flying jewels, darting from flower to flower. Up above them the great trees towered, shutting out the sight of the sea, so that a dozen ships might have lain in that place without being observed from the open water. The description of this hiding-place moved Drake to proceed thither at once with his two pinnaces, the two Maroons, and his brother John, giving orders for the ship to follow the next morning. The pinnaces arrived there the next day, and found the Cimmeroons encamped there, some of them at the river's mouth, the others "in a wood by the river's side." A solemn feast was prepared, at which the Maroons gave "good testimonies of their joy and good will" towards the adventurers. After the feast, the tribe marched away to the Rio Guana, intending to meet with another tribe, at that time camped among the hills. The pinnaces returned from Rio Diego, wondering why the ship had not arrived, and anxious for her safety. They found her, on the 16th September, in the place where they had left her, "but in far other state," for a tempest had set her on her side, and sorely spoiled her trim, so that it took two days to repair the damage done. A pinnace was then despatched to the Rio Diego anchorage, to go "amongst the shoals and sandy places, to sound out the channel." On the 19th of September the _Pascha_ was warily piloted to moorings, "with much ado to recover the road among so many flats and shoals." Her berth was about five leagues from the Cativaas, or Catives, "betwixt an island and the Main"--the island being about half-a-mile from the shore, some three acres in extent, "flat, and very full of trees and bushes." The anchors were hardly in the ground, when the friendly tribe of Cimmeroons appeared upon the shore, with several others whom they had met in the mountains. They were all fetched aboard, "to their great comfort and our content," and a council was held forthwith. Drake then asked the chiefs how they could help him to obtain some gold and silver. They replied that nothing could be done for another five months, because the autumn, the rainy season, was upon them, during which time no treasure would be moved from Panama. Had they known that he wanted gold, they said, they would have satisfied him, for they had taken a great store from the Spaniards in a foray, and had flung it into the rivers, which were now too high for them to hope to recover it by diving. He must, therefore, wait, they said, till the rains had ceased in the coming March, when they could attack a treasure train together. The answer was a little unexpected, but not unpleasant, for Drake was willing to remain on the coast for another year if need were. He at once resolved to build himself a fort upon the island, "for the planting of all our ordnance therein, and for our safeguard, if the enemy in all this time, should chance to come." The Cimmeroons cut down a number of Palmito boughs and branches, and soon had two large sheds built, both trim and watertight, for the housing of the company. The boats were then sent ashore to the Main to bring over timber for the building of the fortress. This stronghold was built in the shape of a triangle, with a deep ditch all round it. [Illustration: CARTAGENA IN 1586, SHOWING THE DOUBLE HARBOUR THE SHIP IN THE FOREGROUND MAY BE DRAKE'S FLAGSHIP, THE _BONAVENTURE_] The building was a full thirteen feet in height, built of tree boles from the Main, with earth from the trench to take the place of mortar. The ship's guns were hoisted out of the ship and rafted over to the fortress, and there mounted at the embrasures. For platforms for the guns they used the planks of one of the frigates captured near Cartagena. When the heavy work of lumber handling had been finished, but before the fort was ready for use, Drake took John Oxenham, with two of the pinnaces, upon a cruise to the east. He feared that a life of ease ashore would soon make his mariners discontented and eager to be home. It was, therefore, necessary to invent distractions for them. Instead of going at once towards his quarry he sailed along leisurely, close to the coast, stopping a night at one little island for a feast on a kind of bird like spur-kites, the flesh of which was very delicate. He stopped another night at another island, because "of a great kind of shellfish of a foot long," which the company called whelks. As soon as these delectable islands had been left astern, the pinnaces "hauled off into the sea," across the bright, sunny water, blue and flashing, gleaming with the silver arrows of the flying-fish, in order to make the Isles of San Barnardo. They chased two frigates ashore before they came to moorings, after which they scrubbed and trimmed their boats, spent a day fishing from the rocks, and set sail again for Santiago de Tolu. Here they landed in a garden, close to the city, to the delight of some Indians who were working there. After bargaining together for the garden stuff the Indians left their bows and arrows with the sailors while they ran to pluck "many sorts of dainty fruits and roots," such as the garden yielded. Drake paid for the green stuff, and had it taken aboard, after inquiring strictly as to the state of the country and the plate fleets. The company then rowed away for Cartagena, eating their "mellions and winter cherries" with a good appetite. They rowed through the Boca Chica, or Little Mouth, into the splendid harbour, where they set sail, "having the wind large," towards the inner haven and the city. They anchored "right over against the goodly Garden Island," where the fruit was a sore temptation to the seamen, who longed to rob the trees. Drake would not allow them to land, for he feared an ambush, and, indeed, a few hours later, as they passed by the point of the island, they were fired at from the orchards with "a volley of a hundred shot," one of which wounded a sailor. There was little to be done in the harbour, so they put to sea again. They took a barque the next morning about six miles from the port. She was a ship of fifty tons, laden with soap and sweetmeats, bound from St Domingo towards Cartagena. She was armed with "swords, targets and some small shot, besides four iron bases." Her captain and passengers had slipped ashore in the boat as soon as they had spied the pinnaces, but the captain's silken flag, woven in colours, with his coat-of-arms, had been left behind as a spoil. Having sent her company ashore, "saving a young Negro two or three years old, which we brought away," they sailed her into Cartagena harbour, with the pinnaces towing astern. They anchored at the mouth of the inner haven to await events. During the afternoon the Scrivano, or King's notary, aforementioned, rode down "to the point by the wood side" with a little troop of horsemen. The Scrivano displayed a flag of truce, and came aboard, to worry Drake with his oily lawyer's manner and elaborate, transparent lies. He promised to obtain fresh meat for him as a slight return for "his manifold favours, etc." but Drake saw that it was but a plot of the Governor's to keep him in the port till they could trap him. He thanked the supple liar, kept a good lookout throughout the night, and stood to sea as soon as the sun rose. He took two frigates the next day, just outside the harbour. They were small boats in ballast, one of twelve, one of fifty tons, bound for St Domingo. He brought them to anchor in a bravery, "within saker shot of the east Bulwark," and then dismissed their mariners ashore. On the 21st October, the morning after this adventure, the Spaniards sent a flag of truce to the headland at the mouth of the Boca Chica. Drake manned one of his pinnaces, and rowed ashore to see what they wanted. When about 200 yards from the point the Spaniards fled into the wood, as though afraid of the boat's guns--hoping, no doubt, that Drake would follow, and allow them to ambush him. Drake dropped his grapnel over the stern of the pinnace, and veered the boat ashore, little by little, till the bows grated on the sand. As she touched he leaped boldly ashore, in sight of the Spanish troops, "to declare that he durst set his foot a land." The Spaniards seem to have made a rush towards him, whereupon he got on board again, bade his men warp the boat out by the cable, and "rid awhile," some 100 yards from the shore, in the smooth green water, watching the fish finning past the weeds. Seeing that Drake was less foolish than they had hoped, the Spaniards came out upon the sands, at the edge of the wood, and bade one of their number take his clothes off, to swim to the boat with a message. The lad stripped, and swam off to the boat, "as with a Message from the Governor," asking them why they had come to the coast, and why they stayed there. Drake replied that he had come to trade, "for he had tin, pewter, cloth, and other merchandise that they needed," with which reply the youth swam back to the soldiers. After some talk upon the sands, the men-at-arms sent him back with an answer. "The King," they said, "had forbidden them to traffic with any foreign nation, for any commodities, except powder and shot; of which, if he had any store, they would be his merchants." Drake answered that he had come all the way from England to exchange his commodities for gold and silver, and had little will to return "without his errand." He told them that, in his opinion, they were "like to have little rest" if they would not traffic with him fairly in the way of business. He then gave the messenger "a fair shirt for a reward," and despatched him back to his masters. The lad rolled the shirt about his head in the Indian fashion, and swam back "very speedily," using, perhaps, the swift Indian stroke. He did not return that day, though Drake waited for him until sunset, when the pinnace pulled slowly back to the two frigates, "within saker shot [or three-quarters of a mile] of the east Bulwark." The adventurers lay there all that night, expecting to be attacked. The guns were loaded, and cartridges made ready, and a strict lookout was kept. At dawn they saw two sails running down towards them from the Boca Chica on a fresh easterly breeze. Drake manned his two pinnaces, leaving the frigates empty, expecting to have a fight for their possession. Before he came within gunshot of the Spaniards he had to use his oars, for the wind fell, thereby lessening the advantage the Spanish had. As the boats neared each other Drake's mariners "saw many heads peeping over board" along the gunwales of the enemy. They perceived then that the two ships had been manned to occupy Drake's attention, while another squadron made a dash from the town, "from the eastern Bulwark," to retake his two prizes. But Drake "prevented both their drifts." He bade John Oxenham remain there with the one pinnace, "to entertain these two Men of war," while he, with the other, rowed furiously back to the two prizes. Quick as he had been the Spaniards had been quicker. They had rowed out in a large canoe, which had made two trips, so that one frigate was now full of Spaniards, who had cut her cables, while the canoe towed her towards the batteries. As Drake ranged up alongside, the towline was cast adrift by the men in the canoe; while the gallants on the deck leaped overboard, to swim ashore, leaving their rapiers, guns, and powder flasks behind them. Drake watched them swim out of danger, and then set the larger ship on fire. The smaller of the two he scuttled where she lay, "giving them to understand by this, that we perceived their secret practices." As soon as the frigates were disposed of, the pinnace returned to John Oxenham, who was lying to by the two men-of-war, waiting for them to open fire. As the Captain's pinnace drew near, the wind shifted to the north, and blew freshly, so that both the English boats, being to shoreward of the enemy, were forced to run before it, into the harbour, "to the great joy of the Spaniards," who thought they were running away. Directly they were past the point, "and felt smooth water," they obtained the weather-gage, exchanged a few shots, and dropped their anchors, keeping well to windward of the enemy. The Spaniards also anchored; but as the wind freshened into "a norther" they thought it best to put ashore, and, therefore, retired to the town. For the next four days it blew very hard from the west, with cold rain squalls, to the great discomfort of all hands, who could keep neither warm nor dry. On the fifth day (27th October) a frigate came in from the sea, and they at once attacked her, hoping to find shelter aboard her after the four days of wet and cold. The Spaniards ran her ashore on the point by the Boca Chica, "unhanging her rudder and taking away her sails, that she might not easily be carried away." However, the boats dashed alongside, intending to board her. As they came alongside, a company of horse and foot advanced on to the sands from the woods, opening fire on them as soon as they had formed. The pinnaces replied with their muskets and heavy guns, sending a shot "so near a brave cavalier" that the whole party retreated to the coverts. From the thick brush they were able to save the frigate from capture without danger to themselves; so Drake abandoned her, and set to sea again, in the teeth of the gale, intending to win to Las Serenas, some rocks six miles to sea, off which he thought he could anchor, with his masts down, until the weather moderated. But when he arrived off the rocks, a mighty sea was beating over them, so that he had to run back to Cartagena, where he remained six days, "notwithstanding the Spaniards grieved greatly at our abode there so long." On the 2nd of November the Governor of Cartagena made a determined attempt to destroy him or drive him out to sea. He manned three vessels--"a great shallop, a fine gundeloe and a great canoe"--with Spanish musketeers and Indians with poisoned arrows. These attacked with no great spirit, for as soon as the pinnaces advanced they retreated, and presently "went ashore into the woods," from which an ambush "of some sixty shot" opened a smart fire. As the ambush began to blaze away from the bushes, Drake saw that two pinnaces and a frigate, manned with musketeers and archers, were warping towards him from the town, in the teeth of the wind. As this second line of battle neared the scene of action, the Spaniards left the ambush in the wood, and ran down the sands to the gundeloe and canoe, which they manned, and again thrust from the shore. Drake then stood away into the haven, out of shot of the shore guns, and cast anchor in the great open space, with the two pinnaces lying close together, one immediately ahead of the other. He rigged the sides of the pinnaces with bonnets, the narrow lengths of canvas which were laced to the feet of sails to give them greater spread. With these for his close-fights, or war-girdles, he waved to the Spaniards to attack. They rowed up cheering, all five boats of them, "assuring their fellows of the day." Had they pushed the attack home, the issue might have been different, but the sight of the close-fights frightened them. They lay on their oars "at caliver-shot distance," and opened a smart musketry fire, "spending powder apace," without pausing, for two or three hours. One man was wounded on Drake's side. The Spanish loss could not be told, but Drake's men could plainly see that the Spanish pinnaces had been shot through and through. One lucky shot went into a Spanish powder tub, which thereupon exploded. Drake at once weighed anchor, intending to run them down while they were in confusion. He had the wind of them, and would have been able to do this without difficulty, but they did not wait his coming. They got to their oars in a hurry, and rowed to their defence in the woods--the fight being at an end before the frigate could warp to windward into action. Being weary of these continual fruitless tussles, "and because our victuals grew scant," Drake sailed from the port the following morning, in slightly better weather, hoping to get fresh provisions at the Rio Grande, where he had met with such abundance a few days before. The wind was still fresh from the west, so that he could not rejoin his ship nor reach one of his magazines. He took two days in sailing to the Magdalena, but when he arrived there he found the country stripped. "We found bare nothing, not so much as any people left," for the Spaniards had ordered everyone to retire to the hills, driving their cattle with them, "that we might not be relieved by them." The outlook was now serious, for there was very little food left, and that of most indifferent quality, much of it being spoiled by the rains and the salt water. On the day of their landfall they rowed hard for several hours to capture a frigate, but she was as bare of food as they. "She had neither meat nor money," and so "our great hope" was "converted into grief." Sailors get used to living upon short allowance. The men tightened their belts to stay their hunger, and splashed salt water on their chests to allay their thirst. They ran for Santa Martha, a little city to the east, where they hoped "to find some shipping in the road, or limpets on the rocks, or succour against the storm in that good harbour." They found no shipping there, however, and little succour against the storm. They anchored "under the western point, where is high land," but they could not venture in, for the town was strongly fortified (later raiders were less squeamish). The Spaniards had seen them come to moorings, and managed to send some thirty or forty musketeers among the rocks, within gunshot of them. These kept up a continual musket fire, which did bodily hurt to none, but proved a sad annoyance to sailors who were wearied and out of victuals. They found it impossible to reply to the musketry, for the rocks hid the musketeers from view. There was nothing for it but to "up kedge and cut," in the hope of finding some less troublous berth. As they worked across the Santa Martha bay the culverins in the city batteries opened fire. One shot "made a near escape," for it fell between the pinnaces as they lay together in "conference of what was best to be done." The company were inclined to bring the cruise to an end, and begged that they might "put themselves a land, some place to the Eastward, to get victuals." They thought it would be better to trust to the courtesy of the country people than to keep the seas as they were, in the cold and heavy weather, with a couple of leaky, open boats. Drake disliked this advice, and recommended that they should run on for Rio de la Hacha, or even as far as Curaçoa, where they would be likely to meet with victual ships indifferently defended. The men aboard John Oxenham's pinnace answered that they would willingly follow him throughout the world, but they did not see, they said, how the pinnaces could stand such weather as they had had. Nor did they see how they were going to live with such little food aboard, for they had "only one gammon of bacon and thirty pounds of biscuit for eighteen men"--a bare two days' half allowance. Drake replied that they were better off than he was, "who had but one gammon of bacon and forty pounds of biscuit for his twenty-four men; and therefore [he went on] he doubted not but they would take such part as he did, and willingly depend upon God's Almighty providence, which never faileth them that trust in Him." He did not wait for any further talk, but hoisted his fore-sail and put his helm up for Curaçoa, knowing that the other pinnace would not refuse to follow him. With "sorrowful hearts in respect of the weak pinnace, yet desirous to follow their captain," the weary crew stood after him on the same course. They had not gone more than three leagues when, lo!--balm in Gilead--"a sail plying to the westward" under her foresail and main-sail. There was "great joy" in that hunger-bitten company, who promptly "vowed together, that we would have her, or else it should cost us dear." Coming up with her they found her to be a Spanish ship of more than ninety tons. Drake "waved amain" to her, the usual summons to surrender; but she "despised our summons," and at once opened fire on them, but without success, for the sea was running very high. The sea was too high for them to board her, so they set small storm-sails, and stood in chase, intending to "keep her company to her small content till fairer weather might lay the sea." They followed her for two hours, when "it pleased God" to send a great shower, which, of course, beat down the sea into "a reasonable calm," so that they could pepper her with their guns "and approach her at pleasure." She made but a slight resistance after that, and "in short time we had taken her; finding her laden with victuals well powdered [salted] and dried: which at that present we received as sent us of God's great mercy." [Illustration: AN ELIZABETHAN WAR-SHIP A PINNACE BEYOND, TO THE LEFT] After a stormy night at sea, Drake sent Ellis Hixom, "who had then charge of his pinnace, to search out some harbour along the coast." Hixom soon discovered a little bay, where there was good holding ground, with sufficient depth of water to float the prize. They entered the new port, and dropped their anchors there, promising the Spaniards their clothes, as well as their liberty, if they would but bring them to a clear spring of water and a supply of fresh meat. The Spaniards, who knew the coast very well, soon brought them to an Indian village, where the natives "were clothed and governed by a Spaniard." They stayed there all the day, cutting wood for their fire, filling water casks, and storing the purchased meat. The Indians helped them with all their might, for Drake, following his custom, gave them "content and satisfaction" for the work they did for him. Towards night Drake called his men aboard, leaving the Spanish prisoners ashore, according to his promise, "to their great content." The wood, water casks, and sides of meat were duly stored, the anchors were brought to the bows, and the adventurers put to sea again towards the secret harbour. That day one of their men died from "a sickness which had begun to kindle among us, two or three days before." What the cause of this malady was "we knew not of certainty," but "we imputed it to the cold which our men had taken, lying without succour in the pinnaces." It may have been pleurisy, or pneumonia, or some low fever. The dead man was Charles Glub, "one of our Quarter Masters, a very tall man, and a right good mariner, taken away to the great grief of Captain and company"--a sufficiently beautiful epitaph for any man. "But howsoever it was," runs the touching account, "thus it pleased God to visit us, and yet in favour to restore unto health all the rest of our company that were touched with this disease, which were not a few." The 15th of November broke bright and fine, though the wind still blew from the west. Drake ordered the _Minion_, the smaller of his two pinnaces, to part company, "to hasten away before him towards his ships at Port Diego ... to carry news of his coming, and to put all things in a readiness for our land journey if they heard anything of the Fleet's arrival." If they wanted wine, he said, they had better put in at San Barnardo, and empty some of the caches in the sand there, where they had buried many bottles. Seven days later Drake put in at San Barnardo for the same commodity, "finding but twelve _botijos_ of wine of all the store we left, which had escaped the curious search of the enemy who had been there, for they were deep in the ground." Perhaps the crew of the _Minion_ were the guilty ones. About the 27th of November the Captain's party arrived at Port Diego, where they found all things in good order, "but received very heavy news of the death of John Drake, our Captain's brother, and another young man called Richard Allen, which were both slain at one time [on the 9th October, the day Drake left the isle of shell-fish] as they attempted the boarding of a frigate." Drake had been deeply attached to this brother, whom he looked upon as a "young man of great hope." His death was a sore blow to him, all the more because it happened in his absence, when he could neither warn him of the risks he ran nor comfort him as he lay a-dying. He had been in the pinnace, it seems, with a cargo of planks from the Spanish wreck, carrying the timber for the platform of the battery. It was a bright, sunny morning, and the men were rowing lazily towards the fort, "when they saw this frigate at sea." The men were in merry heart, and eager for a game at handystrokes. They were "very importunate on him, to give chase and set upon this frigate, which they deemed had been a fit booty for them." He told them that they "wanted weapons to assail"; that, for all they knew, the frigate might be full of men and guns; and that their boat was cumbered up with planks, required for his brother's service. These answers were not enough for them, and "still they urged him with words and supposals." "If you will needs," said he;--"Adventure. It shall never be said that I will be hindmost, neither shall you report to my brother that you lost your voyage by any cowardice you found in me." The men armed themselves as they could with stretchers from the boat, or anything that came to hand. They hove the planks overboard to make a clear fighting space, and "took them such poor weapons as they had: viz., a broken pointed rapier, one old visgee, and a rusty caliver. John Drake took the rapier and made a gauntlet of his pillow, Richard Allen the visgee, both standing at the head of the pinnace called Eion. Robert took the caliver, and so boarded." It was a gallant, mad attempt, but utterly hopeless from the first. The frigate was "armed round about with a close fight of hides," and "full of pikes and calivers, which were discharged in their faces, and deadly wounded those that were in the fore ship, John Drake in the belly, and Richard Allen in the head." Though they were both sorely hurt, they shoved the pinnace clear with their oars, and so left the frigate, and hurried home to their ship, where "within an hour after" this young man of great hope ended his days, "greatly lamented of all the company." He was buried in that place, with Richard Allen his shipmate, among the brilliant shrubs, over which the parrots chatter. For the next four or five weeks the company remained at Fort Diego with the Maroons, their allies. They fared sumptuously every day on the food stored within the magazine; while "daily out of the woods" they took wild hogs, the "very good sort of a beast called warre," that Dampier ate, besides great store of turkeys, pheasants, and numberless guanas, "which make very good Broath." The men were in good health, and well contented; but a day or two after the New Year (January 1573) "half a score of our company fell down sick together, and the most of them died within two or three days." They did not know what the sickness was, nor do they leave us much information to enable us to diagnose it. They called it a calenture, or fever, and attributed it to "the sudden change from cold to heat, or by reason of brackish water which had been taken in by our pinnace, through the sloth of their men in the mouth of the river, not rowing further in where the water was good." We cannot wonder that they died from drinking the water of that sluggish tropical river, for in the rainy season such water is often poisonous to the fish in the sea some half-a-mile from the shore. It comes down from the hills thick with pestilential matter. It sweeps away the rotting leaves and branches, the dead and drowned animals, from the flooded woods and savannahs. "And I believe," says Dampier, "it receives a strong Tincture from the Roots of several Kind of Trees, Herbs, etc., and especially where there is any stagnancy of the Water, it soon corrupts; and possibly the Serpents and other poisonous Vermin and Insects may not a little contribute to its bad qualities." Whatever it was, the disease raged among the men with great violence--as many as thirty being down with it at the one time. Among those who died was Joseph Drake, another brother of the Captain, "who died in our Captain's arms." The many deaths caused something like a panic among the men, and Drake, in his distress, determined to hold a post-mortem upon his brother's corpse "that the cause [of the disease] might be the better discerned, and consequently remedied." The operation was performed by the surgeon, "who found his liver swollen, his heart as it were sodden, and his guts all fair." The corpse of one dead from yellow-fever displays very similar symptoms; and the muddy foreshore on which they were camped would, doubtless, swarm with the yellow-fever mosquito. The sick seem to have recovered swiftly--a trait observable in yellow-fever patients. This, says the narrative, "was the first and last experiment that our Captain made of anatomy in this voyage." The surgeon who made this examination "over-lived him not past four days"--a fact which very possibly saved the lives of half the company. He had had the sickness at its first beginning among them, but had recovered. He died, we are told, "of an overbold practice which he would needs make upon himself, by receiving an over-strong purgation of his own device, after which taken he never spake; nor his Boy recovered the health which he lost by tasting it, till he saw England." He seems to have taken the draught directly after the operation, as a remedy against infection from the corpse. The boy, who, perhaps, acted as assistant at the operation, may have thought it necessary to drink his master's heeltaps by way of safeguard. While the company lay thus fever-stricken at the fort, the Maroons had been wandering abroad among the forest, ranging the country up and down "between Nombre de Dios and us, to learn what they might for us." During the last few days of January 1573 they came in with the news that the plate fleet "had certainly arrived in Nombre de Dios." On the 30th of January, therefore, Drake ordered the _Lion_, one of the three pinnaces, to proceed "to the seamost islands of the Cativaas," a few miles from the fort, to "descry the truth of the report" by observing whether many frigates were going towards Nombre de Dios from the east, as with provisions for the fleet. The _Lion_ remained at sea for a few days, when she captured a frigate laden with "maize, hens, and pompions from Tolu." She had the Scrivano of Tolu aboard her, with eleven men and one woman. From these they learned that the fleet was certainly at Nombre de Dios, as the Indians had informed them. The prisoners were "used very courteously," and "diligently guarded from the deadly hatred of the Cimmeroons," who used every means in their power to obtain them from the English, so that "they might cut their throats to revenge their wrongs and injuries." Drake warned his allies not to touch them "or give them ill countenance"; but, feeling a little doubtful of their safety, he placed them aboard the Spanish prize, in charge of Ellis Hixom, and had the ship hauled ashore to the island, "which we termed Slaughter Island (because so many of our men died there)." He was about to start upon "his journey for Panama by land," and he could not follow his usual custom of letting his prisoners go free. CHAPTER IV THE ROAD TO PANAMA The Maroons--The native city--The great tree--Panama--The silver train--The failure--Venta Cruz When the Spanish prize had been warped to her berth at Slaughter Island, Drake called his men together, with the chiefs of the Maroons, to a solemn council of war about the fire. He then discussed with them, with his usual care, the equipment necessary for an undertaking of the kind in hand. He was going to cross the isthmus with them, those "20 leagues of death and misery," in order to surprise one of the recuas, or treasure trains, as it wandered north upon the road from Panama to Nombre de Dios. It was, as he says, "a great and long journey," through jungles, across swamps, and up precipitous crags. Any error in equipment would be paid for in blood. It was essential, therefore, that they should strictly debate "what kind of weapons, what store of victuals, and what manner of apparel" would be fittest for them. The Maroons "especially advised" him "to carry as great store of shoes as possibly he might, by reason of so many rivers with stone and gravel as they were to pass." This advice was followed by all hands, who provided themselves with a good store of boots and spare leather, thereby saving themselves from much annoyance from jiguas, or jiggers, and the venomous leeches of the swamps. The sickness had destroyed twenty-eight of the company. Three had died of wounds or in battle, and one had died from cold and exposure in the pinnace. Of the remaining forty-two Drake selected eighteen of the best. A number were still ill abed, and these he left behind in the care of Ellis Hixom and his little band of shipkeepers. The dried meat and biscuit were then packed carefully into bundles. The eighteen took their weapons, with such necessaries as they thought they might require. Drake called Hixom aside, and gave him "straight charge, in any case not to trust any messenger that should come in his name with any tokens, unless he brought his handwriting: which he knew could not be counterfeited by the Cimaroons or Spaniards." A last farewell was taken; thirty brawny Cimmeroons swung the packs upon their shoulders, shaking their javelins in salute. The shipkeepers sounded "A loath to depart," and dipped their colours. The forty-eight adventurers then formed into order, and marched away into the forest on their perilous journey. Having such stalwart carriers, the English were able to march light, "not troubled with anything but our furniture." The Maroons carried "every one of them two sorts of arrows" in addition to the packs of victuals, for they had promised to provide fresh food upon the march for all the company. "Every day we were marching by sun-rising," says the narrative, taking the cool of the morning before the sun was hot. At "ten in the forenoon" a halt was called for dinner, which they ate in quiet "ever near some river." This halt lasted until after twelve. Then they marched again till four, at which time they sought out a river-bank for their camping ground. Often they slept in old huts built by the Indians "when they travelled through these woods," but more frequently the Maroons built them new ones, having a strange skill in that craft. Then they would light little fires of wood inside the huts, giving a clear red glow, with just sufficient smoke to keep away mosquitoes. They would sup pleasantly together there, snugly sheltered from the rain if any fell; warm if it were cold, as on the hills; and cool if it were hot, as in the jungle. When the Indians had lit their little "light Wood" candles these huts must have been delightful places, full of jolly talk and merry music. Outside, by the river-brink, the frogs would croak; and, perhaps, the adventurers heard "the shriekings of Snakes and other Insects," such as scared Lionel Wafer there about a century later. Those who ventured out into the night were perplexed by the innumerable multitude of fireflies that spangled the darkness with their golden sparks. In the mornings the brilliant blue and green macaws aroused them with their guttural cries "like Men who speak much in the Throat." The chicaly bird began his musical quick cuckoo cry, the corrosou tolled out his bell notes, the "waggish kinds of Monkeys" screamed and chattered in the branches, playing "a thousand antick Tricks." Then the sun came up in his splendour above the living wall of greenery, and the men buckled on their gear, and fell in for the road. As they marched, they sometimes met with droves of peccary or warree. Then six Maroons would lay their burdens down, and make a slaughter of them, bringing away as much of the dainty wild pork as they could carry. Always they had an abundance of fresh fruit, such as "Mammeas" ("very wholesome and delicious"), "Guavas, Palmitos, Pinos, Oranges, Lemons and divers others." Then there were others which were eaten "first dry roasted," as "Plantains, Potatoes, and such like," besides bananas and the delicious sapadilloes. On one occasion "the Cimaroons found an otter, and prepared it to be drest: our Captain marvelling at it. Pedro, our chief Cimaroon, asked him, "Are you a man of war, and in want; and yet doubt whether this be meat, that hath blood? Herewithal [we read] our Captain rebuked himself secretly, that he had so slightly considered of it before." After three days' wandering in the woods the Maroons brought them to a trim little Maroon town, which was built on the side of a hill by a pretty river. It was surrounded by "a dyke of eight feet broad, and a thick mud wall of ten feet high, sufficient to stop a sudden surpriser. It had one long and broad street, lying east and west, and two other cross streets of less breadth and length," containing in all some "five or six and fifty households." It was "kept so clean and sweet, that not only the houses, but the very streets were pleasant to behold"--a thing, doubtless, marvellous to one accustomed to an Elizabethan English town. "In this town we saw they lived very civilly and cleanly," for, as soon as the company marched in, the thirty carriers "washed themselves in the river and changed their apparel," which was "very fine and fitly made," after the Spanish cut. The clothes, by all accounts, were only worn on state occasions. They were long cotton gowns, either white or rusty black, "shap'd like our Carter's Frocks." The town was thirty-five leagues from Nombre de Dios and forty-five from Panama. It had been surprised the year before Drake came there (1572) by 150 Spanish troops under "a gallant gentleman," who had been guided thither by a recreant Maroon. He attacked a little before the dawn, and cut down many women and children, but failed to prevent the escape of nearly all the men. In a little while they rallied, and attacked the Spaniards with great fury, killing their guide and four-fifths of their company. The wretched remnant straggled back as best they could "to return answer to them which sent them." The natives living there at the time of Drake's visit kept a continual watch some three miles from the town, to prevent a second surprise. Any Spaniards whom they met they "killed like beasts." The adventurers passed a night in the town, and stayed until noon of the day following. The Maroons told them stories of their battles with the Spaniards, while Drake inquired into "their affection in religion." He learned that they had no kind of priests; "only they held the Cross in great reputation"--having, perhaps, learned so much of Christianity from the Spaniards. Drake seems to have done a little earnest missionary work, for he persuaded them "to leave their crosses, and to learn the Lord's Prayer, and to be instructed in some measure concerning God's true worship." After dinner on the 7th of February the company took to the roads again, refusing to take any of the countless recruits who offered their services. Four Maroons went on ahead to mark a trail by breaking branches or flinging a bunch of leaves upon the ground. After these four, marched twelve more Maroons as a sort of vanguard. Then came Drake with his men and the two Maroon chiefs. Another troop of twelve Maroons brought up the rear. The Maroons marched in strict silence, "which they also required us to keep," for it is the custom among nearly all savage folk to remain silent on the trail. The way now led them through parts less swampy, and, therefore, less densely tangled over than those nearer the "North Sea." "All the way was through woods very cool and pleasant," says the narrative, "by reason of those goodly and high trees, that grow there so thick." They were mounting by slow degrees to the "ridge between the two seas," and the woodland was getting clear of undergrowth. As later buccaneers have noted, the upper land of the isthmus is wooded with vast trees, whose branches shut out the sun. Beneath these trees a man may walk with pleasure, or indeed ride, for there is hardly any undergrowth. The branches are so thick together that the lower ground receives no sunlight, and, therefore, little grows there. The heat of the sun is shut out, and "it is cooler travelling there ... in that hot region, than it is in ... England in the summer time." As the men began to ascend, the Maroons told them that not far away there grew a great tree about midway between the oceans, "from which we might at once discern the North Sea from whence we came, and the South Sea whither we were going." On the 11th of February, after four days of slow but steady climbing, they "came to the height of the desired hill, a very high hill, lying East and West, like a ridge between the two seas." It was ten o'clock in the forenoon, the hour at which the dinner halt was made. Pedro, the Maroon chief, now took Drake's hand, and "prayed him to follow him if he was desirous to see at once the two seas which he had so longed for." Drake followed Pedro to the hilltop, to the "goodly and great high Tree," of which the Maroons had spoken. He found that they had hacked out steps upon the bole, "to ascend up near unto the top," where they had built a pleasant little hut of branches thatched from the sun, "wherein ten or twelve men might easily sit." "South and north of this Tree" the Maroons had felled certain trees "that the prospect might be the clearer." At its base there was a number of strong houses "that had been built long before," perhaps by an older people than the Cimmeroons. The tree seems to have been a place of much resort among that people, as it lay in their paths across the isthmus, and towards the west. Drake climbed the tree with Pedro to the little sunny bower at the top. A fresh breeze which was blowing, had blown away the mists and the heat haze, so that the whole isthmus lay exposed before him, in the golden sunlight. There to the north, like a bright blue jewel, was "the Atlantic Ocean whence now we came." There to the south, some thirty miles away, was "that sea of which he had heard such golden reports." He looked at the wonderful South Sea, and "besought Almighty God of His goodness, to give him life and leave to sail once in an English ship, in that sea." The prayer was granted to him, for in five years' time he was off that very coast with such a spoil as no ship ever took before. Having glutted his eyes with the sight, Drake called up all his English followers, and "acquainted John Oxenham especially with this his petition and purpose, if it would please God to grant him that happiness." Oxenham answered fervently that "unless our Captain did beat him from his company, he would follow him, by God's grace." He fulfilled his vow a few months later, with disaster to himself and his associates. "Thoroughly satisfied with the sight of the seas," the men descended to their dinner with excellent appetite. They then pushed on lightly as before, through continual forest, for another two days. On the 13th of February, when they had gained the west side of the Cheapo River, the forest broke away into little knots of trees green and goodly, which showed like islands in a rolling ocean of green grass. They were come to the famous savannahs, over which roamed herds of black cattle, swift and savage. Everywhere about them was the wiry stipa grass, and "a kind of grass with a stalk as big as a great wheaten reed, which hath a blade issuing from the top of it, on which though the cattle feed, yet it groweth every day higher, until the top be too high for an ox to reach." The inhabitants of the country were wont to burn the grass every year, but "after it is thus burnt" it "springeth up fresh like green corn" within three days. "Such," says the narrative, "is the great fruitfulness of the soil: by reason of the evenness of the day and the night, and the rich dews which fall every morning." As the raiders advanced along this glorious grass-land they sometimes caught sight of Panama. Whenever they topped a rise they could see the city, though very far away; and at last, "on the last day," they saw the ships riding in the road, with the blue Pacific trembling away into the sky beyond them. Now was the woodcock near the gin, and now the raiders had to watch their steps. There was no cover on those rolling sweeps of grass. They were within a day's journey of the city. The grass-land (as Drake gathered from his guides) was a favourite hunting-ground of the city poulterers, for there, as Drake puts it, "the Dames of Panama are wont to send forth hunters and fowlers, for taking of sundry dainty fowl, which the land yieldeth." Such a body of men as theirs might readily be detected by one of these sportsmen, and one such detection would surely ruin the attempt. They therefore, crept like snakes "out of all ordinary way," worming themselves through the grass-clumps till they came to a little river-bed, in which a trickle of water ran slowly across the sun-bleached pebbles. They were minded to reach a grove or wood about a league from Panama. The sun beat upon them fiercely, and it was necessary for them to travel in the heat of the day. In that open country the midday heat was intense, but they contrived to gain the shelter of the wood by three that afternoon. "This last day," says the narrative, "our Captain did behold and view the most of all that fair city, discerning the large street which lieth directly from the sea into the land, South and North." Having gained the shelter of the wood, Drake chose out a Maroon "that had served a master in Panama" to venture into the city as a spy. He dressed the man "in such apparel as the Negroes of Panama do use to wear," and sent him off to the town an hour before night, "so that by the closing in of the evening he might be in the city." He gave the man strict charge to find out "the certain night, and the time of the night, when the carriers laded the Treasure from the King's Treasure House to Nombre de Dios." The first stage of the journey (from Panama to Venta Cruz) was always undertaken in the cool of the night, "because the country is all champion, and consequently by day very hot." From Venta Cruz to Nombre de Dios "they travel always by day and not by night, because all that way is full of woods and therefore very cool." Drake's plan was to waylay one of the treasure trains on the night journey towards Venta Cruz. The Maroon soon returned to the little wood where the men were lying. He had entered the town without trouble, and had met with some old companions, who had told him all he wished to know. A treasure train was to start that very night, for a great Spanish gentleman, the treasurer of Lima, "was intending to pass into Spain" in a swift advice ship which stayed for him at Nombre de Dios. "His daughter and family" were coming with him, "having fourteen mules in company, of which eight were laden with gold, and one with jewels." After this troop, two other recuas, "of fifty mules in each," would take the road, carrying victuals and wine for the fleet, "with some little quantity of silver." As soon as the news had been conveyed to Drake, he marched his men away from Panama towards Venta Cruz, some four leagues' journey. He halted them about two leagues to the south of Venta Cruz, in a clump of tall grass, and then examined a Spanish prisoner whom his scouts had caught. Two of the Maroons, stealing forward along the line of march, had scented the acrid smoke of a burning match carried by some arquebusier. They had crept up "by scent of the said match," and had heard a sound of snoring coming from the grass by the roadside. A Spanish sentry had fallen asleep upon his post, "and being but one they fell upon him, stopped his mouth from crying, put out his match," and bound him so effectually "that they well near strangled him." He was in the pay of the King's treasurer, who had hired him, with others, to guard the treasure train upon its march from Venta Cruz. He had fallen asleep while waiting for the mules to arrive, as he knew that he would get no sleep until the company he marched with was safe in Nombre de Dios. He was in terror of his life, for he believed that he had fallen into the hands of the Maroons, from whom he might expect no mercy. When he learned that he was a prisoner to Francis Drake he plucked up courage, "and was bold to make two requests unto him." First, he asked that Drake would order the Maroons to spare his life, for he knew that they "hated the Spaniards, especially the soldiers, extremely," but a word from such a Captain would be enough to save him. The second request was also personal. He assured them, upon the faith of a soldier, that "they should have that night more gold, besides jewels, and pearls of great price, than all they could carry"; if not, he swore, let them deal with him as they would. But, he added, if the raiders are successful, "then it might please our Captain to give unto him, as much as might suffice for him and his mistress to live upon, as he had heard our Captain had done to divers others"--promising, in such a case, to make his name as famous as any of them which had received the like favour. Being now "at the place appointed" Drake divided his men into two companies. With eight Englishmen and fifteen Cimmeroons he marched to some long grass about fifty paces from the road. He sent John Oxenham, with Pedro and the other company of men, to the other side of the road, at the same distance from it, but a little farther to the south, in order that, "as occasion served, the former company might take the foremost mules by the heads," while Oxenham's party did that service for those which followed. The arrangement also provided "that if we should have need to use our weapons that night, we might be sure not to endamage our fellows." Having reached their stations, the men lay down to wait, keeping as quiet as they could. In about an hour's time they heard the clanging of many mule bells, making a loud music, in the direction of Venta Cruz. Mules were returning from that town to Panama; for with the fleet at Nombre de Dios there was much business between the two seaports, and the mule trains were going and coming several times a day. As they listened, they heard more mule bells ringing far away on the road from Panama. The treasurer with his company was coming. Now, Drake had given strict orders that no man should show himself, or as much as budge from his station, "but let all that came from Venta Cruz [which was nothing but merchandise] to pass quietly." Yet one of the men, probably one of Oxenham's men, of the name of Robert Pike, now disobeyed those orders. "Having drunken too much aqua-vitæ without water," he forgot himself. He rose from his place in the grass, "enticing a Cimaroon with him," and crept up close to the road, "with intent to have shown his forwardness on the foremost mules." Almost immediately a cavalier came trotting past from Venta Cruz upon a fine horse, with a little page running at the stirrup. As he trotted by, Robert Pike "rose up to see what he was." The Cimmeroon promptly pulled him down, and sat upon him; but his promptness came too late to save the situation. All the English had put their shirts over their other apparel, "that we might be sure to know our own men in the pell mell in the night." The Spanish cavalier had glanced in Robert Pike's direction, and had seen a figure rising from the grass "half all in white" and very conspicuous. He had heard of Drake's being on the coast, and at once came to the conclusion that that arch-pirate had found his way through the woods to reward himself for his disappointment at Nombre de Dios. He was evidently a man of great presence of mind. He put spurs to his horse, and galloped off down the road, partly to escape the danger, but partly also to warn the treasure train, the bells of which were now clanging loudly at a little distance from the ambuscade. Drake heard the trotting horse's hoofs clatter out into a furious gallop. He suspected that he had been discovered, "but could not imagine by whose fault, neither did the time give him the leasure to search." It was a still night, and he had heard no noise, yet something had startled the cavalier. Earnestly hoping that the rider had been alarmed by the silence of the night and the well-known danger of the road, he lay down among the grass again to wait for the mules to come. The bells clanged nearer and nearer, till at last the mules were trotting past the ambush. The captains blew their whistles to the attack. The raiders rose from the grass-clumps with a cheer. There was a rush across the narrow trackway at the drivers, the mules were seized, and in a moment, two full recuas were in the raiders' hands. So far all had gone merrily. The sailors turned to loot the mule packs, congratulating themselves upon their glorious good fortune. It must have been a strange scene to witness--the mules scared and savage, the jolly seamen laughing as they pulled the packs away, the Maroons grinning and chattering, and the harness and the bells jingling out a music to the night. As the packs were ripped open a mutter of disappointment began to sound among the ranks of the spoilers. Pack after pack was found to consist of merchandise--vicuna wool, or dried provender for the galleons. The amount of silver found amounted to a bare two horse loads. Gold there was none. The jewels of the King's treasurer were not to be discovered. The angry sailors turned upon the muleteers for an explanation. The chief muleteer, "a very sensible fellow," was taken to Drake, who soon learned from him the reason why the catch was so poor. The cavalier who had noticed Robert Pike was the saviour of the treasure. As soon as the figure half all in white had risen ghost-like by the road, he had galloped to the treasure mules to report what he had seen to the treasurer. The thing he had seen was vague, but it was yet too unusual to pass unnoticed. Drake, he said, was a person of devilish resource, and it was highly probable, he thought, that the pirates had come "in covert through the woods" to recoup themselves for their former disappointments. A white shirt was the usual uniform for men engaged in night attacks. No Maroon would wear such a thing in that locality, and, therefore, it would be well to let the food train pass ahead of the treasure. The loss of the food train would be a little matter, while it would surely show them whether an ambush lay in wait or not. The treasurer had accordingly drawn his company aside to allow the food mules to get ahead of him. As soon as the noise upon the road advised him that the enemy had made their spring, he withdrew quietly towards Panama. "Thus," says the narrative, "we were disappointed of a most rich booty: which is to be though God would not should be taken, for that, by all likelihood, it was well gotten by that Treasurer." We are not told what happened to Robert Pike, but it is probable that he had a bad five minutes when the muleteer's story reached the sailors. It was bad enough to have marched all day under a broiling sun, and to lose a royal fortune at the end; but that was not all, nor nearly all: they were now discovered to the enemy, who lay in considerable force in their front and rear. They were wearied out with marching, yet they knew very well that unless they "shifted for themselves betimes" all the Spaniards of Panama would be upon them. They had a bare two or three hours' grace in which to secure themselves. They had marched four leagues that night, and by marching back those same four leagues they might win to cover by the morning. If they marched forward they might gain the forest in two leagues; but Venta Cruz lay in the road, and Venta Cruz was guarded day and night by a company of Spanish troops. To reach the forest by the latter road they would have to make a way with their swords, but with men so tired and out of heart it seemed the likelier route of the two. It was better, Drake thought, "to encounter his enemies while he had strength remaining, than to be encountered or chased when they should be worn out with weariness." He bade all hands to eat and drink from the provisions found upon the mules, and while they took their supper he told them what he had resolved to do. He called upon Pedro, the Maroon, by name, asking "whether he would give his hand not to forsake him." Pedro swore that he would rather die at his feet than desert him in such a pass--a vow which assured Drake of the loyalty of his allies. As soon as supper was over, he bade the men mount upon the mules, so that they might not weary themselves with marching. An hour's trot brought them to the woods within a mile of Venta Cruz, where they dismounted, and went afoot, after bidding the muleteers not to follow if they cared for whole skins. The road was here some ten or twelve feet broad, "so as two Recuas may pass one by another." It was paved with cobbles, which had been beaten into the mud by Indian slaves. On either side of it was the dense tropical forest, "as thick as our thickest hedges in England that are oftenest cut." Among the tangle, about half-a-mile from the town, the Spaniards had taken up a strong position. The town guard of musketeers had been reinforced by a number of friars from a religious house. They lay there, hidden in the jungle, blowing their matches to keep them burning clearly. Two Maroons, whom Drake had sent forward as scouts, crept back to him with the news that the enemy were there in force, for they had smelt the reek of the smouldering matches and heard the hushed noise of many men moving in the scrub. Drake gave orders that no man should fire till the Spaniards had given them a volley, for he thought they would first parley with him, "as indeed fell out." Soon afterwards, as the men neared the Spanish ambush, a Spanish captain rose from the road, and "cried out, Hoo!" Drake answered with, "Hallo!"--the sailor's reply to a hail. The Spaniard then put the query "Que gente?" to which Drake answered "Englishmen." The Spaniard, "in the name of the King of Spain his master," then charged him to surrender, passing his word as a gentleman soldier that the whole company should be treated courteously. Drake made a few quick steps towards the Spaniard, crying out that "for the honour of the Queen of England, his mistress, he must have passage that way." As he advanced, he fired his pistol towards him, in order to draw the Spanish fire. Immediately the thicket burst out into flame; for the ambush took the shot for a signal, and fired off their whole volley. Drake received several hail-shot in his body. Many of the men were wounded, and one man fell sorely hurt. As the volley crackled out its last few shots, Drake blew his whistle, as a signal to his men to fire. A volley of shot and arrows was fired into the thicket, and the company at once advanced, "with intent to come to handy strokes." As they stormed forward to the thicket, the Spaniards fled towards a position of greater strength. Drake called upon his men to double forward to prevent them. The Maroons at once rushed to the front, "with their arrows ready in their bows, and their manner of country dance or leap, singing Yó péhó! Yó péhó, and so got before us where they continued their leap and song after the manner of their own country wars." The Spaniards heard the war-cry ringing out behind them, and fell back rapidly upon the town. Near the town's end a party of them rallied, forming a sort of rearguard to cover the retreat. As they took up a position in the woods, the Maroons charged them upon both flanks, while the English rushed their centre. There was a mad moment of fighting in the scrub. A Maroon went down with a pike through the body; but he contrived to kill the pikeman before he died. Several Englishmen were hurt. The Spaniards' loss is not mentioned, but it was probably severe. They broke and fled before the fury of the attack, and the whole body of fighting men, "friars and all," were thrust back into the town by the raiders. As they ran, the raiders pressed them home, shouting and slaying. The gates were open. The Spanish never had another chance to rally, and the town was taken with a rush a very few minutes after the captain's challenge in the wood. VENTA CRUZ Venta Cruz, the modern Cruces, stood, and still stands, on the west or left bank of the Chagres River. It marks the highest point to which boats may penetrate from the North Sea. Right opposite the town the river broadens out to a considerable width, affording berths for a number of vessels of slight draught. At the time of Drake's raid it was a place of much importance. The land route from Panama to Nombre de Dios was, as we have said, boggy, dangerous, and pestilential. The freight charges for mule transport across the isthmus were excessive, ranging from twenty-five to thirty dollars of assayed silver for a mule load of 200 pounds weight--a charge which works out at nearly £70 a ton. Even in the dry season the roads were bad, and the mule trains were never safe from the Maroons. Many merchants, therefore, sent their goods to Venta Cruz in flat-bottomed boats of about fifteen tons. These would sail from Nombre de Dios to the mouth of the Chagres River, where they struck sail, and took to their sweeps. The current was not very violent except in the upper reaches, and the boats were generally able to gain Venta Cruz in a few days--in about three days in dry weather and about twelve in the rains. A towing-path was advocated at one time; but it does not seem to have been laid, though the river-banks are in many places flat and sandy, and free from the dense undergrowth of the tropics. As soon as the boats arrived at Venta Cruz they were dragged alongside the jetty on the river-bank, and their cargoes were transferred to some strong stone warehouses. In due course the goods were packed on mules, and driven away down the road to Panama, a distance of some fifteen or eighteen miles, which the mules would cover in about eight hours. The town at the time of Drake's raid contained about forty or fifty houses, some of them handsome stone structures decorated with carven work. The river-bank was covered with a great many warehouses, and there were several official buildings, handsome enough, for the Governor and the King's officers. There was a monastery full of friars, "where we found above a thousand bulls and pardons, newly sent from Rome." Perhaps there was also some sort of a barrack for the troops. The only church was the great church of the monastery. The town was not fortified, but the houses made a sort of hedge around it; and there were but two entrances--the one from the forest, by which Drake's party entered; the other leading over a pontoon bridge towards the hilly woods beyond the Chagres. Attached to the monastery, and tended by the monks and their servants, was a sort of sanatorium and lying-in hospital. Nombre de Dios was so unhealthy, so full of malaria and yellow fever, "that no Spaniard or white woman" could ever be delivered there without the loss of the child on the second or third day. It was the custom of the matrons of Nombre de Dios to proceed to Venta Cruz or to Panama to give birth to their children. The babes were left in the place where they were born, in the care of the friars, until they were five or six years old. They were then brought to Nombre de Dios, where "if they escaped sickness the first or second month, they commonly lived in it as healthily as in any other place." Life in Venta Cruz must have been far from pleasant. The Maroons were a continual menace, but the town was too well guarded, and too close to Panama, for them to put the place in serious danger. The inhabitants had to keep within the township; for the forest lay just beyond the houses, and lonely wanderers were certain to be stabbed by lurking Maroons or carried off by jaguars. In the season the mule trains were continually coming and going, either along the swampy track to Nombre de Dios or from Nombre de Dios to Panama. Boats came sleepily up the Chagres to drop their anchors by the jetty, with news from the Old World and the commodities which the New World did not yield. It must, then, have been one of the most eventful places in the uncomfortable isthmus; but no place can be very pleasant which has an annual rainfall of 120 inches and a mean annual temperature of about 80°. The country adjacent is indescribably beautiful; the river is clear and brilliant; the woods are gorgeous with many-coloured blossoms, and with birds and butterflies that gleam in green and blue among the leaves. During the rains the river sometimes rises forty feet in a night, and sweeps into the town with masses of rotting verdure from the hills. There is always fever in the place, but in the rainy season it is more virulent than in the dry. At present the town has few white inhabitants. The fair stone houses which Drake saw are long since gone, having been destroyed in one of the buccaneering raids a century later. The modern town is a mere collection of dirty huts, inhabited by negroes, half-breeds, and Indians. CHAPTER V BACK TO THE MAIN BODY The treasure train--The spoil--Captain Tetû hurt As soon as the town was in his hands, Drake set guards on the bridge across the Chagres and at the gate by which he had entered the town. He gave orders to the Maroons that they were not to molest women or unarmed men. He gave them free permission to take what they would from the stores and houses, and then went in person to comfort some gentlewomen "which had lately been delivered of children there." They were in terror of their lives, for they had heard the shouts and firing, and had thought that the Maroons were coming. They refused to listen to the various comforters whom Drake had sent to them, and "never ceased most earnestly entreating" that Drake himself would come to them. Drake succeeded in reassuring them that nothing "to the worth of a garter" would be taken from them. They then dried their tears, and were comforted. The raiders stayed in the town about an hour and a half, during which time they succeeded in getting together a little comfortable dew of heaven--not gold, indeed, nor silver, but yet "good pillage." Drake allowed them this latitude so that they might not be cast down by the disappointment of the night. He gave orders, however, that no heavy loot should be carried from the town, because they had yet many miles to go, and were still in danger of attack. While the men were getting their spoils together, ready for marching, and eating a hasty breakfast in the early morning light, a sudden fusillade began at the Panama gate. Some ten or twelve cavaliers had galloped in from Panama, supposing that the pirates had left the town. They had come on confidently, right up to the muzzles of the sentries' muskets. They had then been met with a shattering volley, which killed and wounded half their number and sent the others scattering to the woods. Fearing that they were but a scouting party, and that a troop of horse might be following to support them, Drake gave the word to fall in for the road. The spoil, such as it was, was shouldered; Drake blew a blast upon his whistle; the men formed up into their accustomed marching order, and tramped away from Venta Cruz, across the Chagres bridge, just as the dawn set the parrots screeching and woke the monkeys to their morning song. They seem to have expected no pursuit; but Drake was not a man to run unnecessary risks. His men, including the Maroons, were "grown very valiant," yet they were granted no further chance to show their valour. Drake told them that they had now been "well near a fortnight" from the ship, with her company of sick and sorry sailors. He was anxious to rejoin her without delay, so the word was given to force the marching. He refused to visit the Indian villages, though the Maroons begged him earnestly to do so. His one wish was to rejoin Ellis Hixom. He "hustled" his little company without mercy, encouraging them "with such example and speech that the way seemed much shorter." He himself, we are told, "marched most cheerfully," telling his comrades of the golden spoils they would win before they sailed again for England. There was little ease on that march to the coast, for Drake would allow no one to leave the ranks. When provisions ran out they had to march on empty stomachs. There was no hunting of the peccary or the deer, as on the jolly progress westward. "We marched many days with hungry stomachs," says the narrative, and such was the hurry of the march that many of the men "fainted with sickness of weariness." Their clothes were hanging on their backs in shreds and tatters. Their boots had long since cracked and rotted. Many of them were marching with their feet wrapped up in rags. Many of them were so footsore they could scarcely put their feet upon the ground. Swaying, limping, utterly road-weary, they came tottering into a little village which the Maroons had built as a rest-house for them, about three leagues from the ship. They were quite exhausted. Their feet were bloody and swollen. The last stages had been marched with great bodily suffering, "all our men complaining of the tenderness of their feet." Drake complained also, "sometimes without cause, but sometimes with cause indeed; which made the rest to bear the burden the more easily." Some of the men were carried in by the Maroons. Indeed, the Maroons had saved the whole party from collapse, for they not only built them shelter huts at night, carried the weary, and found, or made, them a road to travel by, but they also bore the whole burden of the company's arms and necessaries. Their fellows who had stayed with Ellis Hixom had built the little town in the woods, for the refreshment of all hands, in case they should arrive worn out with marching. At sunset on the evening of Saturday, the 22nd of February, the weary crew arrived at the little town, to the great joy of the Maroons who kept watch and ward there. The tired men lay down to rest, while Drake "despatched a Cimaroon with a token and certain order to the Master." The day had dawned before this messenger arrived upon the sands near which the ship was moored. He hailed her, crying out that he came with news, and immediately a boat pushed off, manned by men "which longed to hear of our Captain's speeding." As soon as he appeared before Ellis Hixom, he handed over Drake's golden toothpick, "which he said our Captain had sent for a token to Ellis Hixom, with charge to meet him at such a river." The sight of the golden toothpick was too much for Ellis Hixom. He knew it to be his Captain's property, but coming as it did, without a sign in writing, it convinced him that "something had befallen our Captain otherwise than well." The Maroon saw him staring "as amazed," and told him that it was dark when Drake had packed him off, so that no letter could be sent, "but yet with the point of his knife, he wrote something upon the toothpick, 'which,' he said, 'should be sufficient to gain credit to the messenger.'" Looking closely at the sliver of gold, Hixom saw a sentence scratched upon it: "By me, Francis Drake," which convinced him that the message was genuine. He at once called away one of the pinnaces, storing her with "what provision he could," and promptly set sail for the mouth of the Tortugos River, a few miles along the coast, to the west of where he lay, for there Drake intended to await him. At about three o'clock that afternoon, Drake marched his men, or all who were fit to march, out of the forest to the sandy beach at the river's mouth. Half-an-hour later the tattered ragamuffins saw the pinnace running in to take them off, "which was unto us all a double rejoicing: first that we saw them, and next, so soon." The whole company stood up together on the beach to sing some of the psalms of thanksgiving--praising God "most heartily, for that we saw our pinnace and fellows again." To Ellis Hixom and his gang of shipkeepers the raiders appeared "as men strangely changed," though Drake was less changed than the others, in spite of the wound he got at Venta Cruz. The three weeks' march in that abominable country, and the last few days of "fasting and sore travail," would have been enough to "fore pine and waste" the very strongest, while "the grief we drew inwardly, for that we returned without that gold and treasure we hoped for, did no doubt show her print and footsteps in our faces." The next day the pinnace rowed "to another river in the bottom of the bay" to pick up the stragglers who had stayed to rest with the Maroons. The company was then reunited in the secret haven. Wonderful tales were told of the journey across the isthmus, of the South Sea, with its lovely city, and of the rush through the grass in the darkness, when the mule bells came clanging past, that night near Venta Cruz. The sick men recovering from their calentures "were thoroughly revived" by these tales. They importuned Drake to take them with him on the next foray; for Drake gave out that he meant not to leave off thus, but would once again attempt the same journey. In the general rejoicing and merry-making it is possible that Robert Pike remained aloof in the darkness of the 'tween decks, deprived of his allowance of aqua-vitæ. Drake noted the eager spirit among his men, and determined to give it vent. He called them together to a consultation, at which they discussed what was best to be done until the mule trains again set forth from Panama. There was Veragua, "a rich town lying to the Westward, between Nombre de Dios and Nicaragua, where is the richest mine of fine gold that is on this North side." At Veragua also there were little rivers, in which "oftentimes they find pieces of gold as big as peas." Then, if Veragua were thought ill of, as too difficult, there were treasure ships to intercept as they wallowed home for Spain from Nombre de Dios. Or the men might keep themselves employed in capturing victual frigates for the stocking of the ship before they attacked another recua. This last scheme was flouted by many as unnecessary. They had food enough, they said, and what they lacked the country would supply, but the treasure, the comfortable dew of heaven, for which they had come so far, was the main thing, and to get that they were ready to venture on the galleons, soldiers or no soldiers. At this point the Maroons were called in to give their opinion. Most of them had served the Spaniards as slaves in one town or another of the Main. Several of them had worked under the whip of a wealthy Spaniard in Veragua, a creature of the name of Pezoro, who was "bad and cruel, not only to his slaves, but unto all men." This gentleman lived in a strong stone house at a little distance from the town. He had amassed a vast quantity of treasure, for he owned a gold mine, which he worked with 100 slaves. He lived with a guard of soldiers, but the Maroons felt confident that by attacking from the shore side of the house they could easily break in upon him. His gold was stored in his house "in certain great chests." If they succeeded in surprising the house, it would be an easy matter to make a spoil of the whole. Drake did not care for the scheme, as it involved a long march through the woods. He hesitated to put his men to so much labour, for he had now seen something of this woodland marching, and knew how desperate a toil it was. He thought that they would be better employed in gathering victuals and looking out for treasure transports. They might practise both crafts at the same time by separating into two companies. John Oxenham, in the _Bear_ frigate, could sail "Eastwards towards Tolu, to see what store of victuals would come athwart his halse." In the meanwhile he would take the _Minion_ pinnace to the west, to "lie off and on the Cabezas" in order to intercept any treasure transports coming from Veragua or Nicaragua to Nombre de Dios. Those of the Maroons who cared to stay aboard the _Pascha_ were free to do so. The rest were dismissed "most courteously" with "gifts and favours" of the sorts most pleasing to them, such as knives, iron, coloured ribbons and cloth. The companies were picked; the pinnaces received their stores; sails were bent and set, and the two boats sailed away to their stations. Off the Cabezas the _Minion_ fell in with a frigate from Nicaragua "in which was some gold and a Genoese pilot." Drake treated this pilot in his usual liberal manner till he won him over to his interests. He had been in Veragua harbour, he said, but eight days before. He knew the channel perfectly, so that he could carry Drake in, at night if need were, at any state of the tide. The townsfolk, he said, were in a panic on account of Drake's presence in those seas; they were in such a state of terror that they could not decide upon a scheme to defend the town in case he attacked it. Signor Pezoro was thinking of removing himself to the South Seas. The harbour lay open to any enemy, for the only guns in the place were up at the town, about fifteen miles from the haven's mouth. If Drake made a sudden dash, he said, he would be able to cut out a frigate in the harbour. She was fitting for the sea there, and was very nearly ready to sail. She had aboard her "above a million of gold," which, with a little promptness and courage, might become the property of the raiders. On hearing of this golden booty, Drake thought of all that the Maroons had told him. He was minded to return to the anchorage, to fetch off some of those who had lived with Senor Pezoro, in order that he might have a check upon the pilot's statements, and a guide, if need were, to the city. The Genoese dissuaded him from this scheme, pointing out that a return to the ship would waste several days, during which the frigate might get away to sea. Drake, therefore, took the packets of gold from the Nicaraguan prize, and dismissed her "somewhat lighter to hasten her journey." He then got his oars out, and made all haste to the west, under a press of sail, "to get this harbour, and to enter it by night." He hoped to cut out the treasure ship and to have a look at the house of Senor Pezoro--two investments which would "make" the voyage if all went well. But as the boat drew near to the mouth of the harbour "we heard the report of two Chambers, and farther off, about a league within the bay, two others as it were answering them." The Spaniards had espied the boat, and had fired signal guns to warn the shipping and the town. The report of the guns called the Spaniards to arms--an exercise they were more ready to since the Governor of Panama had warned them to expect Drake. "The rich Gnuffe Pezoro," it was thought, had paid the cost of the sentries. "It was not God's will that we should enter at that time," says the narrative. The wind shifted opportunely to the westward; and Drake put his helm up, and ran away to the east, where he picked up the _Bear_, "according to appointment." Oxenham had had a very prosperous and pleasant cruise, for off Tolu he had come across a victual frigate "in which there were ten men [whom they set ashore], great store of maize, twenty-eight fat hogs, and two hundred hens." The lading was discharged into the _Pascha_ on the 19th and 20th of March as a seasonable refreshment to the company. The frigate pleased Drake, for though she was small (not twenty tons, in fact) she was strong, new, and of a beautiful model. As soon as her cargo was out of her, he laid her on her side, and scraped and tallowed her "to make her a Man of war." He then fitted her with guns from the _Pascha_, and stored her with provisions for a cruise. The Spaniards taken in her had spoken of "two little galleys built in Nombre de Dios, to waft [tow] the Chagres Fleet to and fro." They were "not yet both launched," and the Chagres fleet lay waiting for them within the mouth of the Chagres River. Drake "purposed now to adventure for that Fleet." The day on which he made his plan was Easter Sunday, the 22nd March. "And to hearten his company" for that bold attempt "he feasted them that Easter Day with great cheer and cheerfulness" on the dainties taken from the Spaniards. The next day, he manned "the new tallowed frigate of Tolu," and sailed away west (with Oxenham in the _Bear_ in company) "towards the Cativaas," where they landed to refresh themselves. As they played about upon the sand, flinging pebbles at the land-crabs, they saw a sail to the westward coming down towards them. They at once repaired aboard, and made sail, and "plied towards" the stranger, thinking her to be a Spaniard. The stranger held on her course as though to run the raiders aboard, "till he perceived by our confidence that we were no Spaniards, and conjectured we were those Englishmen of whom he had heard long before." He bore up suddenly under the lee of the English ships, "and in token of amity shot off his lee ordnance"--a salute which Drake at once acknowledged by a similar discharge. As the ships neared each other, the stranger hailed Drake, saying that he was Captain Tetû, or Le Testu, a Frenchman of Newhaven (or Havre), in desperate want of water. He had been looking for Drake, he said, for the past five weeks, "and prayed our Captain to help him to some water, for that he had nothing but wine and cider aboard him, which had brought his men into great sickness"--gastritis or dysentery. Drake at once sent a boat aboard with a cask or two of drink, and some fresh meat, "willing him to follow us to the next port, where he should have both water and victuals." As soon as they had brought their ships to anchor, the French captain sent Drake "a case of pistols, and a fair gilt scimitar (which had been the late King's of France) whom Monsieur Montgomery hurt in the eye." The Frenchman had received it from "Monsieur Strozze," or Strozzi, a famous general of banditti. Drake accepted the gift in the magnificent manner peculiar to him, sending the bearer back to Tetû with a chain of gold supporting a tablet of enamel. Having exchanged gifts, according to the custom of the sea, Captain Tetû came off to visit Drake. He was a Huguenot privateer, who had been in France at the time of the Massacre of St Bartholomew, the murder of Coligny, "and divers others murders." He had "thought those Frenchmen the happiest which were farthest from France," and had, therefore, put to sea to escape from persecution. He was now cruising off the Spanish Main, "a Man of war as we were." He had heard much of Drake's spoils upon the coast, and "desired to know" how he too might win a little Spanish gold. His ship was a fine craft of more than eighty tons, manned by seventy men and boys. He asked Drake to take him into partnership, so that they might share the next adventure. The offer was not very welcome to Drake, for the French company was more than double the strength of the English. Drake had but thirty-one men left alive, and he regarded Tetû with a good deal of jealousy and a good deal of distrust. Yet with only thirty-one men he could hardly hope to succeed in any great adventure. If he joined with the French, he thought there would be danger of their appropriating most of the booty after using him and his men as their tools. The English sailors were of the same opinion; but it was at last decided that Tetû, with twenty picked hands, should be admitted to partnership, "to serve with our Captain for halves." It was something of a risk, but by admitting only twenty of the seventy men the risk was minimised. They were not enough to overpower Drake in case they wished to make away with all the booty, yet they made him sufficiently strong to attempt the schemes he had in hand. An agreement was, therefore, signed; a boat was sent to the secret anchorage to bring the Cimmeroons; and the three ships then sailed away to the east, to the magazines of food which Drake had stored some weeks before. Here they lay at anchor for five or six days to enable the sick Frenchmen to get their health and strength after their weeks of misery. The Huguenot ship was revictualled from the magazines and then taken with the _Bear_ into the secret haven. The third pinnace, the _Lion_, had been sunk a few days before, but the other two, the _Eion_ and the _Minion_, with the new Tolu frigate, were set in order for the next adventure. Drake chose fifteen of his remaining thirty hands, and sent them down into the pinnaces with a few Maroons. The twenty Frenchmen joined him, under their captain, and the expedition then set sail for Rio Francisco, fifteen miles from Nombre de Dios. As they sailed, the Maroons gave out that the frigate was too deep a ship to cross the Rio Francisco bar, which had little water on it at that season of the year. They, therefore, sailed her back, and left her at the Cabezas, "manned with English and French, in the charge of Richard Doble," with strict orders not to venture out until the return of the pinnaces. Putting her complement into the pinnaces, they again set sail for the mouth of the Francisco River. They crossed the bar without difficulty, and rowed their boats upstream. They landed some miles from the sea, leaving the pinnaces in charge of some Maroons. These had orders to leave the river, and hide themselves in the Cabezas, and to await the raiders at the landing-place, without fail, in four days' time. As soon as Drake had landed, he ordered the company in the formation he had used on his march to Panama. He enjoined strict silence upon all, and gave the word to march. They set forward silently, through the cane-brakes and lush undergrowth, upon the long, seven leagues march to the town of Nombre de Dios. They marched all day uncomplainingly, so that at dusk they had crept to within a mile of the trackway, a little to the south of the town. They were now on some gently rising ground, with the swamps and Nombre de Dios at their feet. It made a good camping-ground; and there they passed the night of the 31st of March, resting and feasting "in great stillness, in a most convenient place." They were so close to the town that they could hear the church bells ringing and the clatter of the hammers in the bay, where the carpenters were at work upon the treasure ships. They were working there busily, beating in the rivets all night, in the coolness, to fit the ships for sea. Nearer to them, a little to the west, was the trackway, so that they could hear the mule trains going past to Panama with a great noise of ringing bells. Early on the morning of the 1st of April they heard a great clang of bells among the woods. The mule trains were coming in from Venta Cruz--three mule trains according to the Cimmeroons, laden with "more gold and silver than all of us could bear away." The adventurers took their weapons, and crept through the scrub to the trackway "to hear the bells." In a few minutes, when each side of the track had been manned by the adventurers, the treasure trains trotted up with a great clang and clatter. There were three complete recuas, "one of 50 mules, the other two of 70 each, every of which carried 300 lbs. of silver; which in all amounted to near thirty tons." The trains were guarded by a half company of Spanish foot, "fifteen to each company." The soldiers marched by the side of the trains, blowing on their matches to keep the smouldering ends alight. As the leading mules came up with the head of the ambush Drake blew a blast upon his whistle. The raiders rose from their hiding-place, and fired a volley of shot and arrows at the troops. At the same moment tarry hands were laid upon the heads of the leading mules, so that "all the rest stayed and lay down as their manner is." The Spanish soldiers, taken by surprise, were yet a credit to their colours. They fell into confusion at the first assault, but immediately rallied. A brisk skirmish began, over the bodies of the mules, with sharp firing of muskets and arrows. Captain Tetû was hit in the belly with a charge of hail-shot; a Maroon was shot dead; and then the sailors cleared the road with a rush, driving the Spanish pell-mell towards the town. Then with feverish hands they cast adrift the mule packs "to ease some of the mules, which were heaviest loaden, of their carriage." They were among such wealth as few men have looked upon at the one time. How much they took will never now be known, but each man there had as much pure gold, in bars and quoits, as he could carry. They buried about fifteen tons of silver "partly in the burrows which the great land-crabs had made in the earth, and partly under old trees which were fallen thereabout, and partly in the sand and gravel of a river, "not very deep of water." Some of it, no doubt, remains there to this day. In about two hours' time, they were ready to return to their pinnaces. They formed into order, and hurried away towards the woods, making as much haste as the weight of plunder would allow. As they gained the shelter of the forest they heard a troop of horse, with some arquebusiers, coming hurriedly to the rescue of the mules. They attempted no pursuit, for no Spaniard cared to enter the forest to attack a force in which Maroons were serving. The raiders were, therefore, able to get clear away into the jungle. All that day and the next day they hurried eastward through the scrub. They made a brief pause, as they tramped, to lay down Captain Tetû, whose wound prevented him from marching. He could go no farther, and begged that he might be left behind in the forest, "in hope that some rest would recover him better strength." Two French sailors stayed with him to protect him. CHAPTER VI THE ADVENTURE OF THE RAFT Drake's voyage to the Catives--Homeward bound--The interrupted sermon When the retreating force had gone about two leagues, they discovered that a Frenchman was missing from the ranks. He had not been hurt in the fight; but there was no time to search for him (as a matter of fact, he had drunk too much wine, and had lost himself in the woods), so again they pressed on to the pinnaces and safety. On the 3rd of April, utterly worn out with the hurry of the retreat, they came to the Francisco River. They were staggering under the weight of all their plunder, and, to complete their misery, they were wet to the skin with a rain-storm which had raged all night. To their horror they found no pinnaces awaiting them, but out at sea, not far from the coast, were seven Spanish pinnaces which had been beating up the inlets for them. These were now rowing as though directly from the rendezvous at the Cabezas, so that the draggled band upon the shore made no doubt that their pinnaces had been sunk, their friends killed or taken, and the retreat cut off. Drake's chief fear, on seeing these Spanish boats, was that "they had compelled our men by torture to confess where his frigate and ships were." To the disheartened folk about him it seemed that all hope of returning home was now gone, for they made no doubt that the ships were by this time destroyed. Some of them flung down their gold in despair, while all felt something of the general panic. The Maroons recommended that the march should be made by land, "though it were sixteen days' journey," promising them that, if the ships were taken, they might sojourn among them in the forest as long as they wished. The sailors were in too great "distress and perplexity" to listen to counsel; but Drake had a genius for handling situations of the kind, and he now came forward to quell the uproar. The men were babbling and swearing in open mutiny, and the case demanded violent remedy. He called for silence, telling the mutineers that he was no whit better off than they were; that it was no time to give way to fear, but a time to keep a stiff upper lip, and play the man. He reminded them that, even if the Spaniards had taken the pinnaces, "which God forbid," "yet they must have time to search them, time to examine the mariners, time to execute their resolution after it is determined." "Before all these times be taken," he exclaimed angrily, "we may get to our ships if ye will." They might not hope to go by land, he said, for it would take too long, and the ways would be too foul. But why should they not go by water? There was the river at their feet, roaring down in full spate, tumbling the trunks of trees destroyed in last night's storm. Why in the world should they not make a raft of the trees, "and put ourselves to sea"? "I will be one," he concluded, "who will be the other?" The appeal went home to the sailors. An Englishman named John Smith at once came forward, with a couple of Frenchmen "who could swim very well." The Maroons formed into a line beside the river, and the tree trunks were caught and hauled ashore to form the body of the raft. The branches were trimmed with the hatchets they had brought to clear a path through the forest. The boles were fastened together with thongs stolen from the recua, and with the pliant bejuca growing all about them. The men worked merrily, convinced that Drake would find a way to bring the ship to them. As soon as the raft was built, a mast was stepped in her, on which a biscuit sack was hoisted for a sail. A young tree, working in a crutch, served them as a steering oar. The four men went aboard, a line was laid out to the bar, and the curious raft was hauled off into the sea. The last of the storm of the night before was still roaring up aloft. A high sea was running, and the wind blew strong from the west. Drake put his helm up, and stood off before it, crying out to the company that "if it pleased God, he should put his foot in safety aboard his frigate, he would, God willing, by one means or other get them all aboard, in despite of all the Spaniards in the Indies." Those who have sailed on a raft in calm water will appreciate the courage of Drake's deed. The four men aboard her had to squat in several inches of salt water, holding on for their lives, while the green seas came racing over them "to the arm pits" at "every surge of the wave." The day was intensely hot in spite of the wind, and "what with the parching of the sun and what with the beating of the salt water, they had all of them their skins much fretted away." With blistered and cracking faces, parched with the heat and the salt, and shivering from the continual immersion, they sailed for six hours, making about a knot and a half an hour. When they had made their third league "God gave them the sight of two pinnaces" beating towards them under oars and sail, and making heavy weather of it. The sight of the boats was a great joy to the four sufferers on the raft. They edged towards them as best they could, crying out that all was safe, "so that there was no cause of fear." It was now twilight, and the wind, already fierce, was blowing up into a gale. In the failing light, with the spray sweeping into their eyes, the men aboard the pinnaces could not see the raft, nor could they make headway towards her with the wind as it was. As Drake watched, he saw them bear up for a cove to the lee of a point of land, where they could shelter for the night. He waited a few moments to see if they would put forth again, but soon saw that they had anchored. He then ran his raft ashore to windward of them, on the other side of the headland. He was very angry with the pinnaces' hands for their disobedience of orders. Had they done as he had commanded them, they would have been in the Francisco River the night before, and all the pains and danger of the raft would have been unnecessary. Drake, therefore, resolved to play a trick upon them. As soon as he landed, he set off running to the haven where the boats lay, followed by John Smith and the two Frenchmen--all running "in great haste," "as if they had been chased by the enemy." The hands in the pinnaces saw the four men hurrying towards them, and at once concluded that the Spaniards had destroyed the expedition, and that these four hunted wretches were the sole survivors. In an agony of suspense they got the four men into the boats, eagerly asking where the others were, and in what state. To these inquiries "he answered coldly, 'Well'"--an answer which convinced them that their mates were either dead or in the hands of the Spaniards. Drake watched their misery for a little while, and then being "willing to rid all doubts, and fill them with joy," he took from the bosom of his shirt "a quoit of gold," giving thanks to God that the voyage was at last "made." Some Frenchmen were in the boat, and to these he broke the news of Captain Tetû's wound and how he had been left behind in the forest, "and two of his company with him." He then bade the men to get the grapnels up, as he was determined to row to the Rio Francisco that night. After the anchors were raised, and the oars shipped, a few hours of desperate rowing brought them to the river's mouth, where the company had camped about a fire. By the dawn of the next day the whole expedition was embarked, and the pinnaces (their planking cracking with the weight of treasure) were running eastward with a fresh wind dead astern. They picked up the frigate that morning, and then stood on for the ships, under sail, with great joy. Soon they were lying safe at anchor in the shelter of the secret haven at Fort Diego. All the gold and silver were laid together in a heap, and there in the full view of all hands, French and English, Drake weighed it on the steward's meat scales, dividing it into two equal portions, to the satisfaction of everyone. The French took their portion aboard their ship as soon as it had been allotted to them. They then begged Drake for some more sea-stores, to fit them for the sea, and he gave them a quantity of provisions from his secret magazines. They then filled their water casks, and stood away to the west, to cruise for a few days off the Cabezas in the hope of obtaining news of Captain Tetû. As soon as they had gone, Drake ordered his old ship, the _Pascha_, to be stripped of all things necessary for the fitting of the frigate, the Spanish prize. The long months at Port Diego had left her very foul, and it was easier to dismantle her than to fit her for the sea. While she was being stripped to equip the frigate, Drake organised another expedition to recover Captain Tetû and the buried silver. His men would not allow him to take a part in this final adventure, so Oxenham, and one Thomas Sherwell, were placed in command. Drake accompanied them as far as the Francisco River, taking an oar in one of the pinnaces which conveyed them. As they rowed lightly up the stream, the reeds were thrust aside, and one of Captain Tetû's two comrades came staggering out, and fell upon his knees. In a broken voice he thanked God that ever Drake was born to deliver him thus, after he had given up all hope. He told them that he had been surprised by the Spaniards half-an-hour after he had taken up his post beside his wounded captain. As the Spaniards came upon them, he took to his heels, followed by his mate. He had been carrying a lot of pillage, but as he ran he threw it all away, including a box of jewels, which caught his mate's eye as it fell in the grass. "His fellow took it up, and burdened himself so sore that he could make no speed," so that the Spaniards soon overtook him, and carried him away with Captain Tetû. Having taken two of the three Frenchmen, the Spaniards were content to leave the chase, and the poor survivor had contrived to reach the Rio Francisco after several days of wandering in the woods. As for the silver which they had buried so carefully in the sands, "he thought that it was all gone ... for that ... there had been near two thousand Spaniards and Negroes there to dig and search for it." Notwithstanding this report, John Oxenham with a company of twenty-seven men, marched west to view the place. He found that the earth "every way a mile distant had been digged and turned up," for the Spaniards had put their captives to the torture to learn what had been done with the treasure. Most of it had been recovered by this means, "yet nevertheless, for all that narrow search," a little of the dew of heaven was still glimmering in the crab-holes. The company was able to rout out some quantity of refined gold, with thirteen bars of silver, weighing some forty pounds apiece. With this spoil upon their backs, they returned to the Rio Francisco, where the pinnaces took them off to the frigate. Now that the voyage was made, it was "high time to think of homeward," before the Spaniards should fit out men-of-war against them. Drake was anxious to give the _Pascha_ to the Spanish prisoners, as some compensation for their weeks of captivity. He could not part with her, however, till he had secured another vessel to act as tender, or victualler, to his little frigate. He determined to make a cast to the east, as far as the Rio Grande, to look for some suitable ship. The Huguenot privateer, which had been lying off the Cabezas, sailed eastward in his company, having abandoned Captain Tetû and his two shipmates to the mercies of the Spaniards. They stood along the coast together as far as the Isles of San Barnardo, where the French ship parted company. The Spanish plate fleet, with its guard of galleons, was riding at the entry to Cartagena, and the Frenchmen feared that by coming too near they might be taken. They, therefore, saluted Drake with guns and colours, and shaped their course for Hispaniola and home. [Illustration: SHIP AND FLYING FISH] But Drake held on in his way in a bravery, determined to see the Rio Grande before returning home. He sailed past Cartagena almost within gunshot, "in the sight of all the Fleet, with a flag of St George in the main top of our frigate, with silk streamers and ancients down to the water, sailing forward with a large wind." Late that night they arrived off the mouth of the Rio Grande, where they shortened sail, "and lay off and on." At midnight the wind veered round to the eastward, so that the victuallers at anchor in the river were able to set sail for Cartagena. About two o'clock in the morning a frigate slipped over the bar under small sail, and ran past Drake towards the west. The English at once opened fire upon her with their shot and arrows, to which the Spaniards replied with their quick-firing guns. While the English gunners plied her with missiles a pinnace laid her aboard, at which the Spaniards leaped overboard and swam for the shore. The newly taken frigate proved to be some seven or eight tons larger than the one in which the English had come to the east. She was laden with maize, hens, and hogs, and a large quantity of honey from the wild bees of Nueva Reyna. As soon as the day dawned, the two frigates sailed away again to the Cabezas to prepare for the voyage home. The prize's cargo was discharged upon the beach. Both frigates were then hove down, and the Spanish prisoners (taken some weeks before) were allowed to depart aboard the _Pascha_. The barnacles were scrubbed and burned off the frigates; their bends were resheathed and retallowed; the provisions were stowed in good trim; water casks were filled; and all things set in order for the voyage. The dainty pinnaces, which had done them such good service, and carried them so many weary miles, were then torn to pieces, and burned, "that the Cimaroons might have the iron-work." Lastly, Drake asked Pedro and three Maroon chiefs to go through both the frigates "to see what they liked." He wished them to choose themselves some farewell gifts, and promised them that they should have what they asked, unless it were essential to the safety of the vessels. We are not told the choice of the three Maroon chiefs, but we read that Pedro chose the "fair gilt scimitar," the gift of Captain Tetû, which had once belonged to Henri II. of France. Drake had not meant to part with it, but Pedro begged for it so prettily, through the mouth of one Francis Tucker, that Drake gave it him "with many good words," together with a quantity of silk and linen for the wives of those who had marched with him. They then bade adieu to the delighted Pedro and his fellows, for it was time to set sail for England. With a salute of guns and colours, with the trumpets sounding, and the ships' companies to give a cheer, the two little frigates slipped out of their harbour, and stood away under all sail for Cape St Antonio. They took a small barque laden with hides upon the way, but dismissed her as being useless to them after they had robbed her of her pump. At Cape St Antonio they salted and dried a number of turtles, as provisions for the voyage. Then they took their departure cheerfully towards the north, intending to call at Newfoundland to fill with water. The wind blew steadily from the south and west to blow them home, so that this scheme was abandoned. Abundant rain supplied their water casks, the wind held steady, the sun shone, and the blue miles slipped away. "Within twenty-three days" they passed "from the Cape of Florida to the Isles of Scilly," the two Spanish frigates being admirable sailers. With the silk streamers flying in a bravery the two ships sailed into Plymouth "on Sunday, about sermon time, August the 9th, 1573." There they dropped anchor to the thunder of the guns, to the great joy of all the townsfolk. "The news of our Captain's return ... did so speedily pass over all the church, and surpass their minds with desire and delight to see him, that very few or none remained with the Preacher, all hastening to see the evidence of God's love and blessing towards our Gracious Queen and country, by the fruit of our Captain's labour and success. _Soli Deo Gloria._" We may take leave of him at this point, with the Plymouth bells ringing him a welcome and the worshippers flocking down to see him land. _Note._--"There were at the time," says the narrative, "belonging to Cartagena, Nombre de Dios, Rio Grande, Santa Marta, Rio de la Hacha, Venta Cruz, Veragua, Nicaragua, the Honduras, Jamaica, etc.; above 200 frigates; some of 120 tons, others but of 10 or 12 tons, but the most of 30 or 40 tons, which all had intercourse between Cartagena and Nombre de Dios. The most of which, during our abode in those parts, we took; and some of them twice or thrice each." Most of these frigates were provision ships, but in all of them, no doubt, there was a certain amount of gold and silver, besides uncut jewels or pearls from the King's Islands. We do not know the amount of Drake's plunder, but with the spoil of all these frigates, added to the loot of the recua, it must have been very considerable. He may have made as much as £40,000, or more, or less. It is as well to put the estimate low. CHAPTER VII JOHN OXENHAM The voyage--His pinnace--Into the South Sea--Disaster--His unhappy end The John Oxenham, or Oxnam, who followed Drake to Nombre de Dios, and stood with him that sunny day watching the blue Pacific from the tree-top, was a Devonshire gentleman from South Tawton. He was of good family and well to do. He may, perhaps, have given money towards the fitting out of Drake's squadron. It is at least certain that he held in that voyage a position of authority considerably greater than that of "soldier, mariner, and cook"--the rates assigned to him by Sir Richard Hawkins. On his return from the Nombre de Dios raid, he disappears, and it is uncertain whether he followed Drake to Ireland, or settled down at home in Devonshire. He did not forget the oath he had sworn to his old Captain, to follow him to the South Sea in God's good time. But after waiting a year or two, and finding that Drake was not ready to attempt that adventure, he determined to go at his own charge, with such men as he could find. He was well known in the little Devon seaports as a bold sailor and fiery sea-captain. He was "a fine figure of a man," and the glory of Drake's raid was partly his. He was looked upon as one of the chief men in that foray. He had, therefore, little difficulty in getting recruits for a new voyage to the Main. In the year 1574 he set sail from Plymouth in a fine ship of 140 tons, with a crew of seventy men and boys. He made a fair passage to the Main, and anchored in Drake's old anchorage--either that of the secret haven, in the Gulf of Darien, or that farther west, among the Catives. Here he went ashore, and made friends with the Maroons, some of whom, no doubt, were old acquaintances, still gay with beads or iron-work which he had given them two years before. They told him that the treasure trains "from Panama to Nombre de Dios" were now strongly guarded by Spanish soldiers, so that he might not hope to win such a golden booty as Drake had won, by holding up a recua on the march. Oxenham, therefore, determined "to do that which never any man before enterprised"--by leaving his ship, marching over the watershed, building a pinnace in the woods, and going for a cruise on the South Sea. He dragged his ship far into the haven, struck her topmasts, and left her among the trees, beached on the mud, and covered with green boughs so as to be hidden from view. Her great guns were swung ashore, and buried, and the graves of them strewn with leaves and brushwood. He then armed his men with their calivers and their sacks of victual, "and so went with the Negroes," dragging with them two small guns, probably quick-firing guns, mounted on staves of wood or iron. Hawkins says that he left four or five men behind him as shipkeepers. After a march of "about twelve leagues into the maine-land" the Maroons brought him to a river "that goeth to the South Sea." Here the party halted, and built themselves little huts of boughs to live in while they made themselves a ship. They cut down some trees here, and built themselves a pinnace "which was five and fortie foot by the keele." They seem to have brought their sails and tackling with them, but had they not done so they could have made shift with the rough Indian cloth and the fibrous, easily twisted bark of the maho-tree. Having built this little ship, they went aboard of her, and dropped downstream to the Pacific--the first English crew, but not the first Englishman, to sail those waters. Six negroes came with them to act as guides. As soon as they had sailed out of the river's mouth, they made for the Pearl Islands, or Islands of the King, "which is five and twentie leagues from Panama." Here they lay very close, in some snug inlet hidden from the sea. Some of them went inland to a rocky cliff, to watch the seas for ships coming northward from Peru with treasure from the gold and silver mines. The islands are in the fairway between Panama and Lima, but ten days passed before the watchers saw a sail, and cried out to those in the boat. "There came a small Barke by, which came from Peru, from a place called Quito"; and the pinnace dashed alongside of her, and carried her by the sword, before her sailors learned what was the matter. She was laden with "sixtie thousand pezos of golde, and much victuals." John Oxenham took her lading, and kept the barque by him, while he stayed on at the islands. At the end of six days, another "barke" came by, from Lima, "in whiche he tooke an hundred thousand pezos of silver in barres." This was plunder enough to "make" any voyage, and with this John Oxenham was content. Before he sailed away, however, he marched upon one or two of the Pearl fisheries, where he found a few pearls. He then sailed northward to the river's mouth taking his prizes with him, with all the prisoners. At the river's mouth he very foolishly "sent away the two prizes that hee tooke"--a piece of clemency which knotted the rope under his ear. He then sailed up the river, helping his pinnace by poles, oars, and warps, but making slow progress. Before he reached this river, the negroes of the Pearl Islands sent word to the Governor of Panama that English pirates had been in those seas plundering their fisheries. "Within two days" the Governor despatched four galleys, "with negroes to rowe," and twenty-five musketeers in each galley, under the Captain John de Ortega, to search the Pearl Islands very thoroughly for those robbers. They reached the islands, learned in which direction the pirate ships had gone, and rowed away north to overtake them. As they came near the land, they fell in with the two prizes, the men of which were able to tell them how the pirates had gone up the river but a few days before. John de Ortega came to the river's mouth with his four galleys, and "knew not which way to take, because there were three partitions in the river, to goe up in." He decided at last to go up the greatest, and was actually rowing towards it, when "he saw comming down a lesser river many feathers of hennes, which the Englishmen had pulled to eate." These drifting feathers, thrown overboard so carelessly, decided the Spanish captain. He turned up the lesser river "where he saw the feathers," and bade his negroes give way heartily. Four days later, he saw the English pinnace drawn up on the river-bank "upon the sands," guarded by six of her crew. The musketeers at once fired a volley, which killed one of the Englishmen, and sent the other five scattering to the cover of the woods. There was nothing in the pinnace but bread and meat. All the gold pezoes and the bars of silver had been landed. The presence of the boat guard warned the Spanish captain that the main body of the pirates was near at hand. He determined to land eighty of his musketeers to search those woods before returning home. "Hee had not gone half a league" before he found one of the native huts, thatched with palm leaves, in which were "all the Englishmen's goods and the gold and silver also." The Englishmen were lying about the hut, many of them unarmed, with no sentry keeping a lookout for them. Taken by surprise as they were, they ran away into the woods, leaving all things in the hands of the Spaniards. The Spaniards carried the treasure back to the galleys, and rowed slowly down the river "without following the Englishmen any further." It appeared later, that Oxenham had ordered his men to carry the gold and silver from the place where they had hauled the pinnace ashore, to the place where the ship was hidden. To this the mariners joyfully assented, "for hee promised to give them part of it besides their wages." Unfortunately, they wished this "part of it" paid to them at once, before they shifted an ingot--a want which seemed to reflect upon John Oxenham's honour. He was naturally very angry "because they would not take his word" to pay them something handsome when he reached home. He was a choleric sea-captain, and began, very naturally, to damn them for their insolence. "He fell out with them, and they with him," says Hakluyt. One of them, stung by his Captain's curses, "would have killed the Captaine" there and then, with his caliver,[2] or sailor's knife. This last act was too much. Oxenham gave them a few final curses, and told them that, if such were their temper, they should not so much as touch a quoit of the treasure, but that he would get Maroons to carry it. He then left them, and went alone into the forest to find Maroons for the porterage. As he came back towards the camp, with a gang of negroes, he met the five survivors of the boat guard "and the rest also which ran from the house," all very penitent and sorry now that the mischief had been done. They told him of the loss of the treasure, and looked to him for guidance and advice, promising a better behaviour in the future. Oxenham told them that if they helped him to recover the treasure, they should have half of it, "if they got it from the Spaniards." "The Negroes promised to help him with their bows and arrows," and with this addition to their force they set off down the river-bank in pursuit. [Footnote 2: _Caliver_, a light, hand musket. A musket without a crutch, or rest.] After three days' travelling, they came upon the Spaniards, in camp, on the bank of the river, apparently in some strong position, sheltered with trees. Oxenham at once fell on "with great fury," exposing himself and his men to the bullets of the musketeers. The Spaniards were used to woodland fighting. Each musketeer retired behind a tree, and fired from behind it, without showing more than his head and shoulders, and then but for a moment. The Englishmen charged up the slope to the muzzles of the guns, but were repulsed with loss, losing eleven men killed and five men taken alive. The number of wounded is not stated. The negroes, who were less active in the charge, lost only five men. The Spaniards loss was two killed "and five sore hurt." The English were beaten off the ground, and routed. They made no attempt to rally, and did not fall on a second time. The Spanish captain asked his prisoners why they had not crossed the isthmus to their ship in the days before the pursuit began. To this the prisoners answered with the tale of their mutinies, adding that their Captain would not stay longer in those parts now that his company had been routed. The Spaniards then buried their dead, retired on board their galleys, and rowed home to Panama, taking with them their prisoners and the English pinnace. When they arrived in that city, the prisoners were tortured till they confessed where their ship was hidden. Advice was then sent to Nombre de Dios, where four pinnaces were at once equipped to seek out the secret haven. They soon found the ship, "and brought her to Nombre de Dios," where her guns and buried stores were divided among the King's ships employed in the work of the coast. While this search for the ship was being made, the Viceroy of Peru sent out 150 musketeers to destroy the "fiftie English men" remaining alive. These troops, conducted by Maroons, soon found the English in a camp by the river, "making of certaine Canoas to goe into the North Sea, and there to take some Bark or other." Many of them were sick and ill, "and were taken." The rest escaped into the forest, where they tried to make some arrangement with the negroes. The negroes, it seems, were angry with Oxenham for his failure to keep his word to them. They had agreed to help him on condition that they might have all the Spanish prisoners to torture "to feed their insatiable revenges." Oxenham had released his prisoners, as we have seen, and the Maroons had been disappointed of their dish of roasted Spaniards' hearts. They were naturally very angry, and told John Oxenham, when he came to them for help, that his misfortunes were entirely due to his own folly. Had he kept his word, they said, he would have reached his ship without suffering these reverses. After a few days, being weary of keeping so many foreigners, they betrayed the English sailors to the Spaniards. "They were brought to Panama," to the justice of that city, who asked John Oxenham "whether hee had the Queene's licence, or the licence of any other Prince or Lord, for his attempt." To this John Oxenham answered that he had no licence saving his sword. He was then condemned to death with the rest of his company, with the exception of two (or five) ships' boys. After a night or two in Panama prison, within sound of the surf of the Pacific, the mariners were led out, and shot. Oxenham and the master and the pilot were sent to Lima, where they were hanged as pirates in the square of the city. A force of musketeers was then sent into the interior, to reduce the Maroons "which had assisted those English men." The punitive force "executed great justice," till "the Negroes grew wise and wary," after which there was no more justice to be done. The ships' boys, who were spared, were probably sold as slaves in Lima, or Panama. They probably lived in those towns for the rest of their lives, and may have become good Catholics, and wealthy, after due probation under the whip. Sir Richard Hawkins, who was in Panama in 1593, and who may have heard a Spanish version of the history, tells us that aboard the treasure ship taken by Oxenham were "two peeces of speciall estimation: the one a table of massie gold, with emralds ... a present to the King; the other a lady of singular beautie." According to Sir Richard, John Oxenham fell in love with this lady, and it was through her prayers that he released the other prisoners. He is said to have "kept the lady" when he turned the other prisoners away. The lady's "sonne, or a nephew," who was among those thus discharged, made every effort to redeem his mother (or aunt). He prayed so vehemently and "with such diligence," to the Governor at Panama, that the four galleys were granted to him "within few howers." The story is not corroborated; but Oxenham was very human, and Spanish beauty, like other beauty, is worth sinning for. A year or two later, Captain Andrew Barker of Bristol, while cruising off the Main, captured a Spanish frigate "between Chagre and Veragua." On board of her, pointing through the port-holes, were four cast-iron guns which had been aboard John Oxenham's ship. They were brought to England, and left in the Scilly Islands, A.D. 1576. _Note._--The story of John Oxenham is taken from "Purchas his Pilgrimes," vol. iv. (the original large 4to edition); and from Hakluyt, vol. iii. p. 526. Another version of the tale is given in Sir R. Hawkins' "Observations." He is also mentioned in Hakluyt's account of Andrew Barker. CHAPTER VIII THE SPANISH RULE IN HISPANIOLA Rise of the buccaneers--The hunters of the wild bulls--Tortuga--Buccaneer politics--Buccaneer customs In 1492, when Columbus landed on Hayti, he found there about 1,000,000 Indians, of a gentle refinement of manners, living peaceably under their kings or caciques. They were "faint-hearted creatures," "a barbarous sort of people, totally given to sensuality and a brutish custom of life, hating all manner of labour, and only inclined to run from place to place." The Spaniards killed many thousands of them, hunted a number with their bloodhounds, sent a number to work the gold-mines, and caused about a third of the population to commit suicide or die of famine. They discouraged sensuality and a distaste for work so zealously that within twenty years they had reduced the population to less than a twentieth part of its original 1,000,000 of souls. They then called the island Hispaniola, and built a city, on the south coast, as the capital. This city they called Nueva Ysabel, in honour of the Queen of Spain, but the name was soon changed to that of St Domingo.[3] [Footnote 3: See particularly Burney, Exquemeling, Edwards, and Hazard.] Those Indians who were not enslaved, retired to the inmost parts of the island, to the shelter of the thickest woods, where they maintained themselves by hunting. The swine and cattle, which had belonged to their fellows in their prosperous days, ran wild, and swarmed all over the island in incredible numbers. The dogs of the caciques also took to the woods, where they ranged in packs of two or three score, hunting the wild swine and the calves. The Spaniards seem to have left the interior of the island to the few survivors, as they had too few slaves to cultivate it. They settled themselves at St Domingo, and at various places upon the coast, such as Santiago and St John of Goave. They planted tobacco, sugar, chocolate, and ginger, and carried on a considerable trade with the cities on the Main and in the mother country. Hayti, or Hispaniola, is in the fairway of ships coming from Europe towards the Main. It was at one time looked upon as the landfall to be made before proceeding west to Vera Cruz or south to Cartagena. The French, English, and Hollanders, who visited those seas "maugre the King of Spain's beard," discovered it at a very early date. They were not slow to recognise its many advantages. The Spanish, who fiercely resented the presence of any foreigners in a part of the world apportioned to Spain by the Pope, did all they could to destroy them whenever they had the opportunity. But the Spanish population in the Indies was small, and spread over a vast area, and restricted, by Government rules, to certain lines of action. They could not patrol the Indies with a number of guarda costas sufficient to exclude all foreign ships, nor could they set guards, in forts, at every estancia or anchorage in the vast coast-line of the islands. Nor could they enforce the Spanish law, which forbade the settlers to trade with the merchants of other countries. It often happened that a ship from France, Holland, or England arrived upon the coasts of Hispaniola, or some other Spanish colony, off some settlement without a garrison. The settlers in these out-of-the-way places were very glad to trade with such ships, for the freight they brought was cheaper and of better quality than that which paid duty to their King. The goods were landed, and paid for. The ships sent their crews ashore to fill fresh water or to reprovision, and then sailed home for Europe, to return the next year with new goods. On the St Domingo or Hispaniola coasts there are countless creeks and inlets, making good harbours, where these smuggling ships might anchor or careen. The land was well watered and densely wooded, so that casks could be filled, and firewood obtained, without difficulty on any part of the coast. Moreover, the herds of wild cattle and droves of wild boars enabled the ships to reprovision without cost. Before the end of the sixteenth century, it had become the custom for privateers to recruit upon the coast of Hispaniola, much as Drake recruited at Port Plenty. The ships used to sail or warp into some snug cove, where they could be laid upon the careen to allow their barnacles to be burned away. The crews then landed, and pitched themselves tents of sails upon the beach, while some of their number took their muskets, and went to kill the cattle in the woods. In that climate, meat does not keep for more than a few hours, and it often happened that the mariners had little salt to spare for the salting of their kill. They, therefore, cured the meat in a manner they had learned from the Carib Indians. The process will be described later on. The Spanish guarda costas, which were swift small vessels like the frigates Drake captured on the Main, did all they could to suppress the illegal trafficking. Their captains had orders to take no prisoners, and every "interloper" who fell into their hands was either hanged, like Oxenham, or shot, like Oxenham's mariners. The huntsmen in the woods were sometimes fired at by parties of Spaniards from the towns. There was continual war between the Spaniards, the surviving natives, and the interlopers. But when the Massacre of St Bartholomew drove many Huguenots across the water to follow the fortunes of captains like Le Testu, and when the news of Drake's success at Nombre de Dios came to England, the interlopers began to swarm the seas in dangerous multitudes. Before 1580, the western coast of Hispaniola had become a sort of colony, to which the desperate and the adventurous came in companies. The ships used to lie at anchor in the creeks, while a number of the men from each ship went ashore to hunt cattle and wild boars. Many of the sailors found the life of the hunter passing pleasant. There were no watches to keep, no master to obey, no bad food to grumble at, and, better still, no work to do, save the pleasant work of shooting cattle for one's dinner. Many of them found the life so delightful that they did not care to leave it when the time came for their ships to sail for Europe. Men who had failed to win any booty on the "Terra Firma," and had no jolly drinking-bout to look for on the quays at home, were often glad to stay behind at the hunting till some more fortunate captain should put in in want of men. Shipwrecked men, men who were of little use at sea, men "who had disagreed with their commander," began to settle on the coast in little fellowships.[4] They set on foot a regular traffic with the ships which anchored there. They killed great quantities of meat, which they exchanged (to the ships' captains) for strong waters, muskets, powder and ball, woven stuffs, and iron-ware. After a time, they began to preserve the hides, "by pegging them out very tite on the Ground,"--a commodity of value, by which they made much money. The bones they did not seem to have utilised after they had split them for their marrow. The tallow and suet were sold to the ships--the one to grease the ships' bottoms when careened, the other as an article for export to the European countries. It was a wild life, full of merriment and danger. The Spaniards killed a number of them, both French and English, but the casualties on the Spanish side were probably a good deal the heavier. The huntsmen became more numerous. For all that the Spaniards could do, their settlements and factories grew larger. The life attracted people, in spite of all its perils, just as tunny fishing attracted the young gallant in Cervantes. A day of hunting in the woods, a night of jollity, with songs, over a cup of drink, among adventurous companions--_qué cosa tan bonita!_ We cannot wonder that it had a fascination. If a few poor fellows in their leather coats lay out on the savannahs with Spanish bullets in their skulls, the rum went none the less merrily about the camp fires of those who got away. [Footnote 4: See Exquemeling, Burney, and the Abbé Raynal.] In 1586, on New Year's Day to be exact, Sir Francis Drake arrived off Hispaniola with his fleet. He had a Greek pilot with him, who helped him up the roads to within gunshot of St Domingo. The old Spanish city was not prepared for battle, and the Governor made of it "a New Year's gift" to the valorous raiders. The town was sacked, and the squadron sailed away to pillage Cartagena and St Augustine. Drake's raid was so successful that privateers came swarming in his steps to plunder the weakened Spanish towns. They settled on the west and north-west coasts of Hispaniola, compelling any Spanish settlers whom they found to retire to the east and south. The French and English had now a firm foothold in the Indies. Without assistance from their respective Governments they had won the right to live there, "maugre the King of Spain's beard." In a few years' time, they had become so prosperous that the Governments of France and England resolved to plant a colony in the Caribbee Islands, or Lesser Antilles. They thought that such a colony would be of benefit to the earlier adventurers by giving them official recognition and protection. A royal colony of French and English was, therefore, established on the island of St Christopher, or St Kitts, one of the Caribbees, to the east of Hispaniola, in the year 1625. The island was divided between the two companies. They combined very amicably in a murderous attack upon the natives, and then fell to quarrelling about the possession of an island to the south. As the Governments had foreseen, their action in establishing a colony upon St Kitts did much to stimulate the settlements in Hispaniola. The hunters went farther afield, for the cattle had gradually left the western coast for the interior. The anchorages by Cape Tiburon, or "Cape Shark," and Samana, were filled with ships, both privateers and traders, loading with hides and tallow or victualling for a raid upon the Main. The huntsmen and hidecurers, French and English, had grown wealthy. Many of them had slaves, in addition to other valuable property. Their growing wealth made them anxious to secure themselves from any sudden attack by land or sea. At the north-west end of Hispaniola, separated from that island by a narrow strip of sea, there is a humpbacked little island, a few miles long, rather hilly in its centre, and very densely wooded. At a distance it resembles a swimming turtle, so that the adventurers on Hispaniola called it Tortuga, or Turtle Island. Later on, it was known as Petit Guaves. Between this Tortuga and the larger island there was an excellent anchorage for ships, which had been defended at one time by a Spanish garrison. The Spaniards had gone away, leaving the place unguarded. The wealthier settlers seized the island, built themselves factories and houses, and made it "their head-quarters, or place of general rendezvous." After they had settled there, they seem to have thought themselves secure.[5] In 1638 the Spaniards attacked the place, at a time when nearly all the men were absent at the hunting. They killed all they found upon the island, and stayed there some little time, hanging those who surrendered to them after the first encounter. Having massacred some 200 or 300 settlers, and destroyed as many buildings as they could, the Spaniards sailed away, thinking it unnecessary to leave a garrison behind them. In this they acted foolishly, for their atrocities stirred the interlopers to revenge themselves. A band of them returned to Tortuga, to the ruins which the Spaniards had left standing. Here they formed themselves into a corporate body, with the intention to attack the Spanish at the first opportunity. Here, too, for the first time, they elected a commander. It was at this crisis in their history that they began to be known as buccaneers, or people who practise the boucan, the native way of curing meat. It is now time to explain the meaning of the word and to give some account of the modes of life of the folk who brought it to our language. [Footnote 5: Burney.] The Carib Indians, and the kindred tribes on the Brazilian coast, had a peculiar way of curing meat for preservation. They used to build a wooden grille or grating, raised upon poles some two or three feet high, above their camp fires. This grating was called by the Indians barbecue. The meat to be preserved, were it ox, fish, wild boar, or human being, was then laid upon the grille. The fire underneath the grille was kept low, and fed with green sticks, and with the offal, hide, and bones of the slaughtered animal. This process was called boucanning, from an Indian word "boucan," which seems to have signified "dried meat" and "camp-fire." Buccaneer, in its original sense, meant one who practised the boucan. Meat thus cured kept good for several months. It was of delicate flavour, "red as a rose," and of a tempting smell. It could be eaten without further cookery. Sometimes the meat was cut into pieces, and salted, before it was boucanned--a practice which made it keep a little longer than it would otherwise have done. Sometimes it was merely cut in strips, roughly rubbed with brine, and hung in the sun to dry into charqui, or jerked beef. The flesh of the wild hog made the most toothsome boucanned meat. It kept good a little longer than the beef, but it needed more careful treatment, as stowage in a damp lazaretto turned it bad at once. The hunters took especial care to kill none but the choicest wild boars for sea-store. Lean boars and sows were never killed. Many hunters, it seems, confined themselves to hunting boars, leaving the beeves as unworthy quarry. When hunting, the buccaneers went on foot, in small parties of four or five. The country in which they hunted was densely wooded, so that they could not ride. Each huntsman carried a gun of a peculiar make, with a barrel four and a half feet long and a spade-shaped stock. The long barrel made the gun carry very true. For ramrods they carried three or four straight sticks of lance wood--a wood almost as hard as iron, and much more easily replaced. The balls used, weighed from one to two ounces apiece. The powder was of the very best make known. It was exported specially from Normandy--a country which sent out many buccaneers, whose phrases still linger in the Norman patois. For powder flask they used a hollow gourd, which was first dried in the sun. When it had dried to a fitting hardness it was covered with cuir-bouilli, or boiled leather, which made it watertight. A pointed stopper secured the mouth, and made a sort of handle to the whole, by which it could be secured to the strap which the hunter slung across his shoulders. Each hunter carried a light tent, made of linen or thin canvas. The tents rolled up into a narrow compass, like a bandolier, so that they could be carried without trouble. The woods were so thick that the leggings of the huntsmen had to be of special strength. They were made of bull or boar hide, the hair worn outwards.[6] Moccasins, or shoes for hunting, were made of dressed bull's hide. The clothes worn at sea or while out hunting were "uniformly slovenly." A big heavy hat, wide in the brim and running up into a peak, protected the wearer from sunstroke. A dirty linen shirt, which custom decreed should not be washed, was the usual wear. It tucked into a dirty pair of linen drawers or knickerbockers, which garments were always dyed a dull red in the blood of the beasts killed. A sailor's belt went round the waist, with a long machete or sheath-knife secured to it at the back. Such was the attire of a master hunter, buccaneer, or Brother of the Coast. Many of them had valets or servants sent out to them from France for a term of three years. These valets were treated with abominable cruelty, and put to all manner of bitter labour. A valet who had served his time was presented with a gun and powder, two shirts and a hat--an equipment which enabled him to enter business on his own account. Every hunting party was arranged on the system of share and share alike. The parties usually made their plans at the Tortuga taverns. They agreed with the sugar and tobacco planters to supply the plantations with meat in exchange for tobacco. They then loaded up their valets with hunters' necessaries, and sailed for Hispaniola. Often they remained in the woods for a year or two, sending their servants to the coast from time to time with loads of meat and hides. They hunted, as a rule, without dogs, though some sought out the whelps of the wild mastiffs and trained them to hunt the boars. They stalked their quarry carefully, and shot it from behind a tree. In the evenings they boucanned their kill, pegged out the hides as tightly as they could, smoked a pipe or two about the fire, and prepared a glorious meal of marrow, "toute chaude"--their favourite dish. After supper they pitched their little linen tents, smeared their faces with grease to keep away the insects, put some wood upon the fire, and retired to sleep, with little thought of the beauty of the fireflies. They slept to leeward of the fires, and as near to them as possible, so that the smoke might blow over them, and keep off the mosquitoes. They used to place wet tobacco leaf and the leaves of certain plants among the embers in order that the smoke might be more pungent. [Footnote 6: See Burney, and Exquemeling.] [Illustration: A BUCCANEER'S SLAVE, WITH HIS MASTER'S GUN A BARBECUE IN RIGHT LOWER CORNER] When the hunt was over, the parties would return to the coast to dispose of all they carried home, and to receive all they had earned during their absence. It was a lucrative business, and two years' hunting in the woods brought to each hunter a considerable sum of money. As soon as they touched their cash, they retired to Tortuga, where they bought new guns, powder, bullets, small shot, knives, and axes "against another going out or hunting." When the new munitions had been paid for, the buccaneers knew exactly how much money they could spend in self-indulgence. Those who have seen a cowboy on a holiday, or a sailor newly home from the seas, will understand the nature of the "great liberality" these hunters practised on such occasions. One who saw a good deal of their way of life[7] has written that their chief vice, or debauchery, was that of drunkenness, "which they exercise for the most part with brandy. This they drink as liberally as the Spaniards do clear fountain water. Sometimes they buy together a pipe of wine; this they stave at the one end, and never cease drinking till they have made an end of it. Thus they celebrate the festivals of Bacchus so long as they have any money left." The island of Tortuga must have witnessed some strange scenes. We may picture a squalid little "cow town," with tropical vegetation growing up to the doors. A few rough bungalow houses, a few huts thatched with palm leaves, a few casks standing in the shade of pent roofs. To seaward a few ships of small tonnage lying at anchor. To landward hilly ground, broken into strips of tillage, where some wretches hoe tobacco under the lash. In the street, in the sunlight, lie a few savage dogs. At one of the houses, a buccaneer has just finished flogging his valet; he is now pouring lemon juice, mixed with salt and pepper, into the raw, red flesh. At another house, a gang of dirty men in dirty scarlet drawers are drinking turn about out of a pan of brandy. The reader may complete the sketch should he find it sufficiently attractive. [Footnote 7: Exquemeling.] When the buccaneers elected their first captain, they had made but few determined forays against the Spaniards. The greater number of them were French cattle hunters dealing in boucanned meat, hides, and tallow. A few hunted wild boars; a few more planted tobacco of great excellence, with a little sugar, a little indigo, and a little manioc. Among the company were a number of wild Englishmen, of the stamp of Oxenham, who made Tortuga their base and pleasure-house, using it as a port from which to sally out to plunder Spanish ships. After a cruise, these pirates sometimes went ashore for a month or two of cattle hunting. Often enough, the French cattle hunters took their places on the ships. The sailors and huntsmen soon became amphibious, varying the life of the woods with that of a sailor, and sometimes relaxing after a cruise with a year's work in the tobacco fields. In 1638, when the Spanish made their raid, there were considerable numbers (certainly several hundreds) of men engaged in these three occupations. After the raid they increased in number rapidly; for after the raid they began to revenge themselves by systematic raids upon the Spaniards--a business which attracted hundreds of young men from France and England. After the raid, too, the French and English Governments began to treat the planters of the St Kitts colony unjustly, so that many poor men were forced to leave their plots of ground there. These men left the colonies to join the buccaneers at Tortuga, who soon became so numerous that they might have made an independent state had they but agreed among themselves. This they could not do, for the French had designs upon Tortuga. A French garrison was landed on the island, seemingly to protect the French planters from the English, but in reality to seize the place for the French crown. Another garrison encamped upon the coast of the larger island. The English were now in a position like that of the spar in the tale.[8] They could no longer follow the business of cattle hunting; they could no longer find an anchorage and a ready market at Tortuga. They were forced, therefore, to find some other rendezvous, where they could refit after a cruise upon the Main. They withdrew themselves more and more from the French buccaneers, though the two parties frequently combined in enterprises of danger and importance. They seem to have relinquished Tortuga without fighting. They were less attached to the place than the French. Their holdings were fewer, and they had but a minor share in the cattle hunting. But for many years to come they regarded the French buccaneers with suspicion, as doubtful allies. When they sailed away from Tortuga they sought out other haunts on islands partly settled by the English. [Footnote 8: Precarious, and not at all permanent.] In 1655, when an English fleet under Penn and Venables came to the Indies to attack the Spaniards, a body of English buccaneers who had settled at Barbadoes came in their ships to join the colours. In all, 5000 of them mustered, but the service they performed was of poor quality. The combined force attacked St Domingo, and suffered a severe repulse. They then sailed for Jamaica, which they took without much difficulty. The buccaneers found Jamaica a place peculiarly suited to them: it swarmed with wild cattle; it had a good harbour; it lay conveniently for raids upon the Main. They began to settle there, at Port Royal, with the troops left there by Cromwell's orders. They planted tobacco and sugar, followed the boucan, and lived as they had lived in the past at Hispaniola. Whenever England was at war with Spain the Governor of the island gave them commissions to go privateering against the Spanish. A percentage of the spoil was always paid to the Governor, while the constant raiding on the Main prevented the Spaniards from attacking the new colony in force. The buccaneers were thus of great use to the Colonial Government. They brought in money to the Treasury and kept the Spanish troops engaged. The governors of the French islands acted in precisely the same way. They gave the French buccaneers every encouragement. When France was at peace with Spain they sent to Portugal ("which country was then at war with Spain") for Portuguese commissions, with which the buccaneer captains could go cruising. The English buccaneers often visited the French islands in order to obtain similar commissions. When England was at war with Spain the French came to Port Royal for commissions from the English Governor. It was not a very moral state of affairs; but the Colonial governors argued that the buccaneers were useful, that they brought in money, and that they could be disowned at any time should Spain make peace with all the interloping countries. The buccaneers now began "to make themselves redoubtable to the Spaniards, and to spread riches and abundance in our Colonies." They raided Nueva Segovia, took a number of Spanish ships, and sacked Maracaibo and western Gibraltar. Their captains on these raids were Frenchmen and Portuguese. The spoils they took were enormous, for they tortured every prisoner they captured until he revealed to them where he had hidden his gold. They treated the Spaniards with every conceivable barbarity, nor were the Spaniards more merciful when the chance offered. The buccaneers, French and English, had a number of peculiar customs or laws by which their strange society was held together. They seem to have had some definite religious beliefs, for we read of a French captain who shot a buccaneer "in the church" for irreverence at Mass. No buccaneer was allowed to hunt or to cure meat upon a Sunday. No crew put to sea upon a cruise without first going to church to ask a blessing on their enterprise. No crew got drunk, on the return to port after a successful trip, until thanks had been declared for the dew of heaven they had gathered. After a cruise, the men were expected to fling all their loot into a pile, from which the chiefs made their selection and division. Each buccaneer was called upon to hold up his right hand, and to swear that he had not concealed any portion of the spoil. If, after making oath, a man were found to have secreted anything, he was bundled overboard, or marooned when the ship next made the land. Each buccaneer had a mate or comrade, with whom he shared all things, and to whom his property devolved in the event of death.[9] In many cases the partnership lasted during life. A love for his partner was usually the only tender sentiment a buccaneer allowed himself. [Footnote 9: Similar pacts of comradeship are made among merchant sailors to this day.] When a number of buccaneers grew tired of plucking weeds[10] from the tobacco ground, and felt the allurement of the sea, and longed to go a-cruising, they used to send an Indian, or a negro slave, to their fellows up the coast, inviting them to come to drink a dram with them. A day was named for the rendezvous, and a store was cleared, or a tobacco drying-house prepared, or perhaps a tent of sails was pitched, for the place of meeting. Early on the morning fixed for the council, a barrel of brandy was rolled up for the refreshment of the guests, while the black slaves put some sweet potatoes in a net to boil for the gentlemen's breakfasts. Presently a canoa or periagua would come round the headland from the sea, under a single sail--the topgallant-sail of some sunk Spanish ship. In her would be some ten or a dozen men, of all countries, anxious for a cruise upon the Main. Some would be Englishmen from the tobacco fields on Sixteen-Mile Walk. One or two of them were broken Royalists, of gentle birth, with a memory in their hearts of English country houses. Others were Irishmen from Montserrat, the wretched Kernes deported after the storm of Tredah. Some were French hunters from the Hispaniola woods, with the tan upon their cheeks, and a habit of silence due to many lonely marches on the trail. The new-comers brought their arms with them: muskets with long single barrels, heavy pistols, machetes, or sword-like knives, and a cask or two of powder and ball. During the morning other parties drifted in. Hunters, and planters, and old, grizzled seamen came swaggering down the trackways to the place of meeting. Most of them were dressed in the dirty shirts and blood-stained drawers of the profession, but some there were who wore a scarlet cloak or a purple serape which had been stitched for a Spaniard on the Main. Among the party were generally some Indians from Campeachy--tall fellows of a blackish copper colour, with javelins in their hands for the spearing of fish. All of this company would gather in the council chamber, where a rich planter sat at a table with some paper scrolls in front of him. [Footnote 10: Exquemeling gives many curious details of the life of these strange people. See the French edition of "Histoire des Avanturiers."] As soon as sufficient men had come to muster, the planter[11] would begin proceedings by offering a certain sum of money towards the equipment of a roving squadron. The assembled buccaneers then asked him to what port he purposed cruising. He would suggest one or two, giving his reasons, perhaps bringing in an Indian with news of a gold mine on the Main, or of a treasure-house that might be sacked, or of a plate ship about to sail eastward. Among these suggestions one at least was certain to be plausible. Another buccaneer would then offer to lend a good canoa, with, perhaps, a cask or two of meat as sea-provision. Others would offer powder and ball, money to purchase brandy for the voyage, or roll tobacco for the solace of the men. Those who could offer nothing, but were eager to contribute and to bear a hand, would pledge themselves to pay a share of the expenses out of the profits of the cruise. When the president had written down the list of contributions he called upon the company to elect a captain. This was seldom a difficult matter, for some experienced sailor--a good fellow, brave as a lion, and fortunate in love and war--was sure to be among them. Having chosen the captain, the company elected sailing masters, gunners, chirurgeons (if they had them), and the other officers necessary to the economy of ships of war. They then discussed the "lays" or shares to be allotted to each man out of the general booty. [Footnote 11: Exquemeling gives these details.] Those who lent the ships and bore the cost of the provisioning, were generally allotted one-third of all the plunder taken. The captain received three shares, sometimes six or seven shares, according to his fortune. The minor officers received two shares apiece. The men or common adventurers received each one share. No plunder was allotted until an allowance had been made for those who were wounded on the cruise. Compensation varied from time to time, but the scale most generally used was as follows[12]:--"For the loss of a right arm six hundred pieces of eight, or six slaves; for the loss of a left arm five hundred pieces of eight, or five slaves; for a right leg five hundred pieces of eight, or five slaves; for a left leg four hundred pieces of eight, or four slaves; for an eye one hundred pieces of eight, or one slave; for a finger of the hand the same reward as for the eye." [Footnote 12: Exquemeling.] In addition to this compensation, a wounded man received a crown a day (say three shillings) for two months after the division of the spoil. If the booty were too little to allow of the declaration of a dividend, the wounded were put ashore at the port of rendezvous, and the adventurers kept the seas until they had enough to bring them home. In the years of buccaneer prosperity, when Port Royal was full of ruffians eager to go cruising, the proceedings may often have been less regular. A voyage was sometimes arranged in the taverns, where the gangs drank punch, or rumbo, a draught of rum and water (taken half-and-half, and sweetened with crude sugar) so long as their money lasted. If a gang had a ship, or the offer of a ship, and had but little silver left them from their last cruise, they would go aboard with their muskets, shot, and powder casks, trusting to fortune to obtain stores. Nearly every ship's company had a Mosquito Indian, or more than one, to act as guide ashore, in places where a native's woodcraft was essential to a white man's safety. At sea these Indians supplied the mariners with fish, for they were singularly skilful with the fish spear. When a gang of buccaneers put to sea without provisions, they generally steered to the feeding grounds of the sea-turtles, or to some place where the sea-cows, or manatees, were found.[13] Here the Indians were sent out in small canoas, with their spears and tortoise irons. The spears were not unlike our modern harpoons. The tortoise irons were short, heavy arrow heads, which penetrated the turtle's shell when rightly thrown. The heads were attached to a stick, and to a cord which they made of a fibrous bark. When the blow had gone home, the stick came adrift, leaving the iron in the wound, with the cord still fast to it. When the turtles had been hauled aboard, their flesh was salted with the brine taken from the natural salt-pans to be found among the islands. When a manatee was killed, the hide was stripped away, and hung to dry. It was then cut into thongs, and put to various uses. The buccaneers made grummets, or rings, of it, for use in their row boats instead of tholes or rowlocks. The meat of manatee, though extremely delicate, did not take salt so readily as that of turtles. Turtle was the stand-by of the hungry buccaneer when far from the Main or the Jamaican barbecues. In addition to the turtle they had a dish of fish whenever the Indians were so fortunate as to find a shoal, or when the private fishing lines, of which each sailor carried several, were successful. Two Mosquito Indians, it was said, could keep 100 men in fish with no other weapons than their spears and irons. In coasting along the Main, a buccaneer captain could always obtain sufficient food for his immediate need, for hardly any part of the coast was destitute of land-crabs, oysters, fruit, deer, peccary, or warree. But for a continued cruise with a large crew this hand-to-mouth supply was insufficient. [Footnote 13: Dampier.] The buccaneers sometimes began a cruise by sailing to an estancia in Hispaniola, or on the Main, where they might supply their harness casks with flesh. They used to attack these estancias, or "hog-yards," at night. They began by capturing the swine or cattle-herds, and threatening them with death should they refuse to give them the meat they needed. Having chosen as many beeves or swine as seemed sufficient for their purpose, they kicked the herds for their pains, and put the meat in pickle.[14] They then visited some other Spanish house for a supply of rum or brandy, or a few hat-loads of sugar in the crude. Tobacco they stole from the drying-rooms of planters they disliked. Lemons, limes, and other anti-scorbutics they plucked from the trees, when fortune sent them to the coast. Flour they generally captured from the Spanish. They seldom were without a supply, for it is often mentioned as a marching ration--"a doughboy, or dumpling," boiled with fat, in a sort of heavy cake, a very portable and filling kind of victual. At sea their staple food was flesh--either boucanned meat or salted turtle. Their allowance, "twice a day to every one," was "as much as he can eat, without either weight or measure." Water and strong liquors were allowed (while they lasted) in the same liberal spirit. This reckless generosity was recklessly abused. Meat and drink, so easily provided, were always improvidently spent. Probably few buccaneer ships returned from a cruise with the hands on full allowance. The rule was "drunk and full, or dry and empty, to hell with bloody misers"--the proverb of the American merchant sailor of to-day. They knew no mean in anything. That which came easily might go lightly: there was more where that came from. [Footnote 14: Exquemeling.] When the ship had been thus victualled the gang went aboard her to discuss where they should go "to seek their desperate fortunes." The preliminary agreement was put in writing, much as in the former case, allotting each man his due share of the expected spoil. We read that the carpenter who "careened, mended, and rigged the vessel" was generally allotted a fee of from twenty-five to forty pounds for his pains--a sum drawn from the common stock or "purchase" subsequently taken by the adventurers. For the surgeon "and his chest of medicaments" they provided a "competent salary" of from fifty to sixty pounds. Boys received half-a-share, "by reason that, when they take a better vessel than their own, it is the duty of the boys to set fire to the ship or boat wherein they are, and then retire to the prize which they have taken." All shares were allotted on the good old rule: "No prey, No pay," so that all had a keen incentive to bestir themselves. They were also "very civil and charitable to each other," observing "among themselves, very good orders." They sailed together like a company of brothers, or rather, since that were an imperfect simile, like a company of jolly comrades. Locks and keys were forbidden among them, as they are forbidden in ship's fo'c's'les to this day; for every man was expected to show that he put trust in his mates. A man caught thieving from his fellow was whipped about the ship by all hands with little whips of ropeyarn or of fibrous maho bark. His back was then pickled with some salt, after which he was discharged the company. If a man were in want of clothes, he had but to ask a shipmate to obtain all he required. They were not very curious in the rigging or cleansing of their ships; nor did they keep watch with any regularity. They set their Mosquito Indians in the tops to keep a good lookout; for the Indians were long-sighted folk, who could descry a ship at sea at a greater distance than a white man. They slept, as a rule, on "mats" upon the deck, in the open air. Few of them used hammocks, nor did they greatly care if the rain drenched them as they lay asleep. After the raids of Morgan, the buccaneers seem to have been more humane to the Spaniards whom they captured. They treated them as Drake treated them, with all courtesy. They discovered that the cutting out of prisoners' hearts, and eating of them raw without salt, as had been the custom of one of the most famous buccaneers, was far less profitable than the priming of a prisoner with his own aqua-vitæ. The later buccaneers, such as Dampier, were singularly zealous in the collection of information of "the Towns within 20 leagues of the sea, on all the coast from Trinidado down to La Vera Cruz; and are able to give a near guess of the strength and riches of them." For, as Dampier says, "they make it their business to examine all Prisoners that fall into their hands, concerning the Country, Town, or City that they belong to; whether born there, or how long they have known it? how many families? whether most Spaniards? or whether the major part are not Copper-colour'd, as Mulattoes [people half white, half black], Mustesoes [mestizos, or people half white, half Indian. These are not the same as mustees, or octoroons], or Indians? whether rich, and what their riches do consist in? and what their chiefest manufactures? If fortified, how many Great Guns, and what number of small Arms? whether it is possible to come undescried on them? How many Look-outs or Centinels? for such the Spaniards always keep; and how the Look-outs are placed? Whether possible to avoid the Look-outs or take them? If any River or Creek comes near it, or where the best Landing? or numerous other such questions, which their curiosities lead them to demand. And if they have had any former discourse of such places from other Prisoners, they compare one with the other; then examine again, and enquire if he or any of them, are capable to be guides to conduct a party of men thither: if not, where and how any Prisoner may be taken that may do it, and from thence they afterwards lay their Schemes to prosecute whatever design they take in hand." If, after such a careful questioning as that just mentioned, the rovers decided to attack a city on the Main at some little distance from the sea, they would debate among themselves the possibility of reaching the place by river. Nearly all the wealthy Spanish towns were on a river, if not on the sea; and though the rivers were unwholesome, and often rapid, it was easier to ascend them in boats than to march upon their banks through jungle. If on inquiry it were found that the suggested town stood on a navigable river, the privateers would proceed to some island, such as St Andreas, where they could cut down cedar-trees to make them boats. St Andreas, like many West Indian islands, was of a stony, sandy soil, very favourable to the growth of cedar-trees. Having arrived at such an island, the men went ashore to cut timber. They were generally good lumbermen, for many buccaneers would go to cut logwood in Campeachy when trade was slack. As soon as a cedar had been felled, the limbs were lopped away, and the outside rudely fashioned to the likeness of a boat. If they were making a periagua, they left the stern "flat"--that is, cut off sharply without modelling; if they were making a canoa, they pointed both ends, as a Red Indian points his birch-bark. The bottom of the boat in either case was made flat, for convenience in hauling over shoals or up rapids. The inside of the boat was hollowed out by fire, with the help of the Indians, who were very expert at the management of the flame. For oars they had paddles made of ash or cedar plank, spliced to the tough and straight-growing lance wood, or to the less tough, but equally straight, white mangrove. Thwarts they made of cedar plank. Tholes or grummets for the oars they twisted out of manatee hide. Having equipped their canoas or periaguas they secured them to the stern of their ship, and set sail towards their quarry. _Authorities._--Captain James Burney: "Voyages and Discoveries in the South Sea"; "History of the Buccaneers." Père Charlevoix: "Histoire de l'Isle Espagnole"; "Histoire et description de la N. France." B. Edwards: "Historical Survey of the Island of San Domingo." Gage: "Histoire de l'Empire Mexicain"; "The English American." S. Hazard: "Santo Domingo, Past and Present." Justin: "Histoire Politique de l'Isle de Haïti." Cal. State Papers: "America and West Indies." Abbé Raynal: "History of the Settlements and Trades of the Europeans in the East and West Indies." A. O. Exquemeling: "History of the Buccaneers." A. de Herrera: "Description des Indes Occidentales (d'Espagnol)." J. de Acosta: "History of the Indies." Cieça de Leon: "Travels." CHAPTER IX BUCCANEER CUSTOMS Mansvelt and Morgan--Morgan's raid on Cuba--Puerto del Principe Throughout the years of buccaneering, the buccaneers often put to sea in canoas and periaguas,[15] just as Drake put to sea in his three pinnaces. Life in an open boat is far from pleasant, but men who passed their leisure cutting logwood at Campeachy, or hoeing tobacco in Jamaica, or toiling over gramma grass under a hot sun after cattle, were not disposed to make the worst of things. They would sit contentedly upon the oar bench, rowing with a long, slow stroke for hours together without showing signs of fatigue. Nearly all of them were men of more than ordinary strength, and all of them were well accustomed to the climate. When they had rowed their canoa to the Main they were able to take it easy till a ship came by from one of the Spanish ports. If she seemed a reasonable prey, without too many guns, and not too high charged, or high built, the privateers would load their muskets, and row down to engage her. The best shots were sent into the bows, and excused from rowing, lest the exercise should cause their hands to tremble. A clever man was put to the steering oar, and the musketeers were bidden to sing out whenever the enemy yawed, so as to fire her guns. It was in action, and in action only, that the captain had command over his men. The steersman endeavoured to keep the masts of the quarry in a line, and to approach her from astern. The marksmen from the bows kept up a continual fire at the vessel's helmsmen, if they could be seen, and at any gun-ports which happened to be open. If the helmsmen could not be seen from the sea, the canoas aimed to row in upon the vessel's quarters, where they could wedge up the rudder with wooden chocks or wedges. They then laid her aboard over the quarter, or by the after chains, and carried her with their knives and pistols. The first man to get aboard received some gift of money at the division of the spoil. [Footnote 15: Dampier and Exquemeling.] When the prize was taken, the prisoners were questioned, and despoiled. Often, indeed, they were stripped stark naked, and granted the privilege of seeing their finery on a pirate's back. Each buccaneer had the right to take a shift of clothes out of each prize captured. The cargo was then rummaged, and the state of the ship looked to, with an eye to using her as a cruiser. As a rule, the prisoners were put ashore on the first opportunity, but some buccaneers had a way of selling their captives into slavery. If the ship were old, leaky, valueless, in ballast, or with a cargo useless to the rovers, she was either robbed of her guns, and turned adrift with her crew, or run ashore in some snug cove, where she could be burnt for the sake of the iron-work. If the cargo were of value, and, as a rule, the ships they took had some rich thing aboard them, they sailed her to one of the Dutch, French, or English settlements, where they sold her freight for what they could get--some tenth or twentieth of its value. If the ship were a good one, in good condition, well found, swift, and not of too great draught (for they preferred to sail in small ships), they took her for their cruiser as soon as they had emptied out her freight. They sponged and loaded her guns, brought their stores aboard her, laid their mats upon her deck, secured the boats astern, and sailed away in search of other plunder. They kept little discipline aboard their ships. What work had to be done they did, but works of supererogation they despised and rejected as a shade unholy. The night watches were partly orgies. While some slept, the others fired guns and drank to the health of their fellows. By the light of the binnacle, or by the light of the slush lamps in the cabin, the rovers played a hand at cards, or diced each other at "seven and eleven," using a pannikin as dice-box. While the gamblers cut and shuffled, and the dice rattled in the tin, the musical sang songs, the fiddlers set their music chuckling, and the sea-boots stamped approval. The cunning dancers showed their science in the moonlight, avoiding the sleepers if they could. In this jolly fashion were the nights made short. In the daytime, the gambling continued with little intermission; nor had the captain any authority to stop it. One captain, in the histories, was so bold as to throw the dice and cards overboard, but, as a rule, the captain of a buccaneer cruiser was chosen as an artist, or navigator, or as a lucky fighter. He was not expected to spoil sport. The continual gambling nearly always led to fights and quarrels. The lucky dicers often won so much that the unlucky had to part with all their booty. Sometimes a few men would win all the plunder of the cruise, much to the disgust of the majority, who clamoured for a redivision of the spoil. If two buccaneers got into a quarrel they fought it out on shore at the first opportunity, using knives, swords, or pistols, according to taste. The usual way of fighting was with pistols, the combatants standing back to back, at a distance of ten or twelve paces, and turning round to fire at the word of command. If both shots missed, the question was decided with cutlasses, the man who drew first blood being declared the winner. If a man were proved to be a coward he was either tied to the mast, and shot, or mutilated, and sent ashore. No cruise came to an end until the company declared themselves satisfied with the amount of plunder taken. The question, like all other important questions, was debated round the mast, and decided by vote. At the conclusion of a successful cruise, they sailed for Port Royal, with the ship full of treasure, such as vicuna wool, packets of pearls from the Hatch, jars of civet or of ambergris, boxes of "marmalett" and spices, casks of strong drink, bales of silk, sacks of chocolate and vanilla, and rolls of green cloth and pale blue cotton which the Indians had woven in Peru, in some sandy village near the sea, in sight of the pelicans and the penguins. In addition to all these things, they usually had a number of the personal possessions of those they had taken on the seas. Lying in the chests for subsequent division were swords, silver-mounted pistols, daggers chased and inlaid, watches from Spain, necklaces of uncut jewels, rings and bangles, heavy carved furniture, "cases of bottles" of delicately cut green glass, containing cordials distilled of precious mints, with packets of emeralds from Brazil, bezoar stones from Patagonia, paintings from Spain, and medicinal gums from Nicaragua. All these things were divided by lot at the main-mast as soon as the anchor held. As the ship, or ships, neared port, her men hung colours out--any colours they could find--to make their vessel gay. A cup of drink was taken as they sailed slowly home to moorings, and as they drank they fired off the cannon, "bullets and all," again and yet again, rejoicing as the bullets struck the water. Up in the bay, the ships in the harbour answered with salutes of cannon; flags were dipped and hoisted in salute; and so the anchor dropped in some safe reach, and the division of the spoil began. [Illustration: OLD PORT ROYAL] After the division of the spoil in the beautiful Port Royal harbour, in sight of the palm-trees and the fort with the colours flying, the buccaneers packed their gear, and dropped over the side into a boat. They were pulled ashore by some grinning black man with a scarlet scarf about his head and the brand of a hot iron on his shoulders. At the jetty end, where the Indians lounged at their tobacco and the fishermen's canoas rocked, the sunburnt pirates put ashore. Among the noisy company which always gathers on a pier they met with their companions. A sort of Roman triumph followed, as the "happily returned" lounged swaggeringly towards the taverns. Eager hands helped them to carry in their plunder. In a few minutes the gang was entering the tavern, the long, cool room with barrels round the walls, where there were benches and a table and an old blind fiddler jerking his elbow at a jig. Noisily the party ranged about the table, and sat themselves upon the benches, while the drawers, or potboys, in their shirts, drew near to take the orders. I wonder if the reader has ever heard a sailor in the like circumstance, five minutes after he has touched his pay, address a company of parasites in an inn with the question: "What's it going to be?" After the settlement of Jamaica by the English, the buccaneers became more enterprising. One buccaneer captain, the most remarkable of all of them, a man named Mansvelt, probably a Dutchman from Curaçoa, attempted to found a pirate settlement upon the island of Santa Katalina, or Old Providence. Mansvelt was a fortunate sea-captain, with considerable charm of manner. He was popular with the buccaneers, and had a name among them, for he was the first of them to cross the isthmus and to sail the South Sea. His South-Sea cruise had come to little, for provisions ran short, and his company had been too small to attempt a Spanish town. He had, therefore, retreated to the North Sea to his ships, and had then gone cruising northward along the Nicaragua coast as far as the Blewfields River. From this point he stood away to the island of Santa Katalina, or Old Providence--an island about six miles long, with an excellent harbour, which, he thought, might easily be fortified. A smaller island lies directly to the north of it, separated from it by a narrow channel of the sea. Twenty years before his visit it had been the haunt of an old captain of the name of Blewfields, who had made it his base while his men went logwood cutting on the mainland. Blewfields was now dead, either of rum or war, and the Spaniards had settled there, and had built themselves a fort or castle to command the harbour. Having examined the place, Mansvelt sailed away to Jamaica to equip a fleet to take it. He saw that the golden times which the buccaneers were then enjoying could not last for ever, and that their occupation might be wrecked by a single ill-considered treaty, dated from St James's or the Court of France. He thought that the islands should be seized as a general rendezvous for folk of that way of life. With a little trouble the harbour could be made impregnable. The land was good, and suited for the growing of maize or tobacco--the two products most in demand among them. The islands were near the Main, being only thirty-five leagues from the Chagres River, the stream from which the golden harvest floated from the cities of the south. They were close to the coast of Nicaragua, where the logwood grew in clumps, waiting for the axes of the lumbermen. With the islands in their hands, the buccaneers could drive the Spaniards off the isthmus--or so Mansvelt thought. It would at anyrate have been an easy matter for them to have wrecked the trade routes from Panama to Porto Bello, and from Porto Bello to Vera Cruz. While Mansvelt lay at Port Royal, scraping and tallowing his ships, getting beef salted and boucanned, and drumming up his men from the taverns, a Welshman, of the name of Henry Morgan, came sailing up to moorings with half-a-dozen captured merchantmen. But a few weeks before, he had come home from a cruise with a little money in his pockets. He had clubbed together with some shipmates, and had purchased a small ship with the common fund. She was but meanly equipped, yet her first cruise to the westward, on the coast of Campeachy, was singularly lucky. Mansvelt at once saw his opportunity to win recruits. A captain so fortunate as Morgan would be sure to attract followers, for the buccaneers asked that their captains should be valorous and lucky. For other qualities, such as prudence and forethought, they did not particularly care. Mansvelt at once went aboard Morgan's ship to drink a cup of sack with him in the cabin. He asked him to act as vice-admiral to the fleet he was then equipping for Santa Katalina. To this Henry Morgan very readily consented, for he judged that a great company would be able to achieve great things. In a few days, the two set sail together from Port Royal, with a fleet of fifteen ships, manned by 500 buccaneers, many of whom were French and Dutch. As soon as they arrived at Santa Katalina, they anchored, and sent their men ashore with some heavy guns. The Spanish garrison was strong, and the fortress well situated, but in a few days they forced it to surrender. They then crossed by a bridge of boats to the lesser island to the north, where they ravaged the plantations for fresh supplies. Having blown up all the fortifications save the castle, they sent the Spanish prisoners aboard the ships. They then chose out 100 trusty men to keep the island for them. They left these on the island, under the command of a Frenchman of the name of Le Sieur Simon. They also left the Spanish slaves behind, to work the plantations, and to grow maize and sweet potatoes for the future victualling of the fleet. Mansvelt then sailed away towards Porto Bello, near which city he put his prisoners ashore. He cruised to the eastward for some weeks, snapping up provision ships and little trading vessels; but he learned that the Governor of Panama, a determined and very gallant soldier, was fitting out an army to encounter him, should he attempt to land. The news may have been false, but it showed the buccaneers that they were known to be upon the coast, and that their raid up "the river of Colla" to "rob and pillage" the little town of Nata, on the Bay of Panama, would be fruitless. The Spanish residents of little towns like Nata buried all their gold and silver, and then fled into the woods when rumours of the pirates came to them. To attack such a town some weeks after the townsfolk had received warning of their intentions would have been worse than useless. Mansvelt, therefore, returned to Santa Katalina to see how the colony had prospered while he had been at sea. He found that Le Sieur Simon had put the harbour "in a very good posture of defence," having built a couple of batteries to command the anchorage. In these he had mounted his cannon upon platforms of plank, with due munitions of cannon-balls and powder. On the little island to the north he had laid out plantations of maize, sweet potatoes, plantains, and tobacco. The first-fruits of these green fields were now ripe, and "sufficient to revictual the whole fleet with provisions and fruits." Mansvelt was so well satisfied with the prospects of the colony that he determined to hurry back to Jamaica to beg recruits and recognition from the English Governor. The islands had belonged to English subjects in the past, and of right belonged to England still. However, the Jamaican Governor disliked the scheme. He feared that by lending his support he would incur the wrath of the English Government, while he could not weaken his position in Jamaica by sending soldiers from his garrison. Mansvelt, "seeing the unwillingness" of this un-English Governor, at once made sail for Tortuga, where he hoped the French might be less squeamish. He dropped anchor, in the channel between Tortuga and Hispaniola early in the summer of 1665. He seems to have gone ashore to see the French authorities. Perhaps he drank too strong a punch of rum and sugar--a drink very prejudicial in such a climate to one not used to it. Perhaps he took the yellow fever, or the coast cramp; the fact cannot now be known. At any rate he sickened, and died there, "before he could accomplish his desires"--"all things hereby remaining in suspense." One account, based on the hearsay of a sea-captain, says that Mansvelt was taken by the Spaniards, and brought to Porto Bello, and there put to death by the troops. Le Sieur Simon remained at his post, hoeing his tobacco plants, and sending detachments to the Main to kill manatee, or to cut logwood. He looked out anxiously for Mansvelt's ships, for he had not men enough to stand a siege, and greatly feared that the Spaniards would attack him. While he stayed in this perplexity, wondering why he did not hear from Mansvelt, he received a letter from Don John Perez de Guzman, the Spanish captain-general, who bade him "surrender the island to his Catholic Majesty," on pain of severe punishment. To this Le Sieur Simon made no answer, for he hoped that Mansvelt's fleet would soon be in those waters to deliver him from danger. Don John, who was a very energetic captain-general, determined to retake the place. He left his residence at Panama, and crossed the isthmus to Porto Bello, where he found a ship, called the _St Vincent_, "that belonged to the Company of the Negroes" (the Isthmian company of slavers), lying at anchor, waiting for a freight. We are told that she was a good ship, "well mounted with guns." He provisioned her for the sea, and manned her with about 400 men, mostly soldiers from the Porto Bello forts. Among the company were seven master gunners and "twelve Indians very dexterous at shooting with bows and arrows." The city of Cartagena furnished other ships and men, bringing the squadron to a total of four vessels and 500 men-at-arms. With this force the Spanish commander arrived off Santa Katalina, coming to anchor in the port there on the evening of a windy day, the 10th of August 1665. As they dropped anchor they displayed their colours. As soon as the yellow silk blew clear, Le Sieur Simon discharged "three guns with bullets" at the ships, "the which were soon answered in the same coin." The Spaniard then sent a boat ashore to summon the garrison, threatening death to all if the summons were refused. To this Le Sieur Simon replied that the island was a possession of the English Crown, "and that, instead of surrendering it, they preferred to lose their lives." As more than a fourth of the little garrison was at that time hunting on the Main, or at sea, the answer was heroic. Three days later, some negroes swam off to the ships to tell the Spaniards of the garrison's weakness. After two more days of council, the boats were lowered from the ships, and manned with soldiers. The guns on the gun-decks were loaded, and trained. The drums beat to quarters both on the ships and in the batteries. Under the cover of the warship's guns, the boats shoved off towards the landing-place, receiving a furious fire from the buccaneers. The "weather was very calm and clear," so that the smoke from the guns did not blow away fast enough to allow the buccaneers to aim at the boats. The landing force formed into three parties, two of which attacked the flanks, and the third the centre. The battle was very furious, though the buccaneers were outnumbered and had no chance of victory. They ran short of cannon-balls before they surrendered, but they made shift for a time with small shot and scraps of iron, "also the organs of the church," of which they fired "threescore pipes" at a shot. The fighting lasted most of the day, for it was not to the advantage of the Spaniards to come to push of pike. Towards sunset the buccaneers were beaten from their guns. They fought in the open for a few minutes, round "the gate called Costadura," but the Spaniards surrounded them, and they were forced to lay down their arms. The Spanish colours were set up, and two poor Spaniards who had joined the buccaneers were shot to death upon the Plaza. The English prisoners were sent aboard the ships, and carried into Porto Bello, where they were put to the building of a fortress--the Iron Castle, a place of great strength, which later on the English blew to pieces. Some of the men were sent to Panama "to work in the castle of St Jerome"--a wonderful, great castle, which was burned at the sack of Panama almost before the mortar dried. While the guns were roaring over Santa Katalina, as Le Sieur Simon rammed his cannon full of organ pipes, Henry Morgan was in lodgings at Port Royal, greatly troubled at the news of Mansvelt's death. He was busily engaged at the time with letters to the merchants of New England. He was endeavouring to get their help towards the fortification of the island he had helped to capture. "His principal intent," writes one who did not love the man, "was to consecrate it as a refuge and sanctuary to the Pirates of those parts," making it "a convenient receptacle or store house of their preys and robberies." It is pleasant to speculate as to the reasons he urged to the devout New England Puritans. He must have chuckled to himself, and shared many a laugh with his clerk, to think that perhaps a Levite, or a Man of God, a deacon, or an elder, would untie the purse-strings of the sealed if he did but agonise about the Spanish Inquisition with sufficient earthquake and eclipse. He heard of the loss of the island before the answers came to him, and the news, of course, "put him upon new designs," though he did not abandon the scheme in its entirety. He had his little fleet at anchor in the harbour, gradually fitting for the sea, and his own ship was ready. Having received his commission from the Governor, he gave his captains orders to meet him on the Cuban coast, at one of the many inlets affording safe anchorage. Here, after several weeks of cruising, he was joined by "a fleet of twelve sail," some of them of several hundred tons. These were manned by 700 fighting men, part French, part English. At the council of war aboard the admiral's ship, it was suggested that so large a company should venture on Havana, which city, they thought, might easily be taken, "especially if they could but take a few of the ecclesiastics." Some of the pirates had been prisoners in the Havana, and knew that a town of 30,000 inhabitants would hardly yield to 700 men, however desperate. "Nothing of consequence could be done there," they pronounced, even with ecclesiastics, "unless with fifteen hundred men." One of the pirates then suggested the town of Puerto del Principe, an inland town surrounded by tobacco fields, at some distance from the sea. It did a thriving trade with the Havana; and he who suggested that it should be sacked, affirmed upon his honour, like Boult over Maria, that it never yet "was sacked by any Pirates." Towards this virginal rich town the buccaneers proceeded, keeping close along the coast until they made the anchorage of Santa Maria. Here they dropped anchor for the night. When the men were making merry over the punch, as they cleaned their arms, and packed their satchels, a Spanish prisoner "who had overheard their discourse, while they thought he did not understand the English tongue," slipped through a port-hole to the sea, and swam ashore. By some miracle he escaped the ground sharks, and contrived to get to Puerto del Principe some hours before the pirates left their ships. The Governor of the town, to whom he told his story, at once raised all his forces, "both freemen and slaves," to prejudice the enemy when he attacked. The forest ways were blocked with timber baulks, and several ambuscades were laid, with cannon in them, "to play upon them on their march." In all, he raised and armed 800 men, whom he disposed in order, either in the jungle at the ambuscades or in a wide expanse of grass which surrounded the town. In due course Morgan sent his men ashore, and marched them through the wood towards the town. They found the woodland trackways blocked by the timber baulks, so they made a detour, hacking paths for themselves with their machetes, until they got clear of the wood. When they got out of the jungle they found themselves on an immense green field, covered with thick grass, which bowed and shivered in the wind. A few pale cattle grazed here and there on the savannah; a few birds piped and twittered in the sunshine. In front of them, at some little distance, was the town they had come to pillage. It lay open to them--a cluster of houses, none of them very large, with warehouses and tobacco drying-rooms and churches with bells in them. Outside the town, some of them lying down, some standing so as to get a view of the enemy, were the planters and townsfolk, with their pikes and muskets, waiting for the battle to begin. Right in the pirates' front was a troop of horsemen armed with lances, swords, and pistols, drawn up in very good order, and ready to advance. The pirates on their coming from the wood formed into a semicircle or half-moon shape, the bow outwards, the horns curving to prevent the cavalry from taking them in flank. They had drums and colours in their ranks. The drums beat out a bravery, the colours were displayed. The men halted for a moment to get their breath and to reprime their guns. Then they advanced slowly, to the drubbing of the drums, just as the Spanish horsemen trotted forward. As the Spaniards sounded the charge, the buccaneers fired a volley of bullets at them, which brought a number of cavaliers out of their saddles. Those horsemen who escaped the bullets dashed down upon the line, and fired their pistols at close quarters, afterwards wheeling round, and galloping back to reform. They charged again and again, "like valiant and courageous soldiers," but at every charge the pirates stood firm, and withered them with file-firing. As they retired after each rush, the marksmen in the ranks picked them off one by one, killing the Governor, in his plumed hat, and strewing the grass with corpses. They also manoeuvred during this skirmish so as to cut off the horsemen from the town. After four hours of battle the cavalry were broken and defeated, and in no heart to fight further. They made a last charge on their blown horses, but their ranks went to pieces at the muzzles of the pirates' guns. They broke towards the cover of the woods, but the pirates charged them as they ran, and cut them down without pity. Then the drums beat out a bravery, and the pirates rushed the town in the face of a smart fire. The Spaniards fought in the streets, while some fired from the roofs and upper windows. So hot was the tussle that the pirates had to fight from house to house. The townsmen did not cease their fire, till the pirates were gathering wood to burn the town, in despair of taking it. [Illustration: PUERTO DEL PRINCIPE] As soon as the firing ceased, the townsfolk were driven to the churches, and there imprisoned under sentinels. Afterwards the pirates "searched the whole country round about the town, bringing in day by day many goods and prisoners, with much provision." The wine and spirits of the townsfolk were set on tap, and "with this they fell to banqueting among themselves, and making great cheer after their customary way." They feasted so merrily that they forgot their prisoners, "whereby the greatest part perished." Those who did not perish were examined in the Plaza, "to make them confess where they had hidden their goods." Those who would not tell where they had buried their gold were tortured very barbarously by burning matches, twisted cords, or lighted palm leaves. Finally, the starving wretches were ordered to find ransoms, "else they should be all transported to Jamaica" to be sold as slaves. The town was also laid under a heavy contribution, without which, they said, "they would turn every house into ashes." It happened that, at this juncture, some buccaneers, who were raiding in the woods, made prisoner a negro carrying letters from the Governor of the Havana. The letters were written to the citizens, telling them to delay the payment of their ransoms as long as possible, for that he was fitting out some soldiers to relieve them. The letters warned Henry Morgan that he had better be away with the treasure he had found. He gave order for the plunder to be sent aboard in the carts of the townsfolk. He then called up the prisoners, and told them very sharply that their ransoms must be paid the next day, "forasmuch as he would not wait one moment longer, but reduce the whole town to ashes, in case they failed to perform the sum he demanded." As it was plainly impossible for the townsfolk to produce their ransoms at this short notice he graciously relieved their misery by adding that he would be contented with 500 beeves, "together with sufficient salt wherewith to salt them." He insisted that the cattle should be ready for him by the next morning, and that the Spaniards should deliver them upon the beach, where they could be shifted to the ships without delay. Having made these terms, he marched his men away towards the sea, taking with him six of the principal prisoners "as pledges of what he intended." Early the next morning the beach of Santa Maria bay was thronged with cattle in charge of negroes and planters. Some of the oxen had been yoked to carts to bring the necessary salt. The Spaniards delivered the ransom, and demanded the six hostages. Morgan was by this time in some anxiety for his position. He was eager to set sail before the Havana ships came round the headland, with their guns run out, and matches lit, and all things ready for a fight. He refused to release the prisoners until the vaqueros "had helped his men to kill and salt the beeves." The work of killing and salting was performed "in great haste," lest the Havana ships should come upon them before the beef was shipped. The hides were left upon the sands, there being no time to dry them before sailing. A Spanish cowboy can kill, skin, and cut up a steer in a few minutes. The buccaneers were probably no whit less skilful. By noon the work was done. The beach of Santa Maria was strewn with mangled remnants, over which the seagulls quarrelled. But before Morgan could proceed to sea, he had to quell an uproar which was setting the French and English by the ears. The parties had not come to blows, but the French were clamouring for vengeance with drawn weapons. A French sailor, who was working on the beach, killing and pickling the meat, had been plundered by an Englishman, who "took away the marrowbones he had taken out of the ox." Marrow, "toute chaude," was a favourite dish among these people. The Frenchman could not brook an insult of a kind as hurtful to his dinner as to his sense of honour. He challenged the thief to single combat: swords the weapon, the time then. The buccaneers knocked off their butcher's work to see the fight. As the poor Frenchman turned his back to make him ready, his adversary stabbed him from behind, running him quite through, so that "he suddenly fell dead upon the place." Instantly the beach was in an uproar. The Frenchmen pressed upon the English to attack the murderer and to avenge the death of their fellow. There had been bad blood between the parties ever since they mustered at the quays before the raid began. The quarrel now raging was an excuse to both sides. Morgan walked between the angry groups, telling them to put up their swords. At a word from him, the murderer was seized, set in irons, and sent aboard an English ship. Morgan then seems to have made a little speech to pacify the rioters, telling the French that the man should be hanged ("hanged immediately," as they said of Admiral Byng) as soon as the ships had anchored in Port Royal bay. To the English, he said that the criminal was worthy of punishment, "for although it was permitted him to challenge his adversary, yet it was not lawful to kill him treacherously, as he did." After a good deal of muttering, the mutineers returned aboard their ships, carrying with them the last of the newly salted beef. The hostages were freed, a gun was fired from the admiral's ship, and the fleet hove up their anchors, and sailed away from Cuba, to some small sandy quay with a spring of water in it, where the division of the plunder could be made. The plunder was heaped together in a single pile. It was valued by the captains, who knew by long experience what such goods would fetch in the Jamaican towns. To the "resentment and grief" of all the 700 men these valuers could not bring the total up to 50,000 pieces of eight--say £12,000--"in money and goods." All hands were disgusted at "such a small booty, which was not sufficient to pay their debts at Jamaica." Some cursed their fortune; others cursed their captain. It does not seem to have occurred to them to blame themselves for talking business before their Spanish prisoners. Morgan told them to "think upon some other enterprize," for the ships were fit to keep the sea, and well provisioned. It would be an easy matter, he told them, to attack some town upon the Main "before they returned home," so that they should have a little money for the taverns, to buy them rum with, at the end of the cruise. But the French were still sore about the murder of their man: they raised objections to every scheme the English buccaneers proposed. Each proposition was received contemptuously, with angry bickerings and mutterings. At last the French captains intimated that they desired to part company. Captain Morgan endeavoured to dissuade them from this resolution by using every flattery his adroit nature could suggest. Finding that they would not listen to him, even though he swore by his honour that the murderer, then in chains, should be hanged as soon as they reached home, he brought out wine and glasses, and drank to their good fortune. The booty was then shared up among the adventurers. The Frenchmen got their shares aboard, and set sail for Tortuga to the sound of a salute of guns. The English held on for Port Royal, in great "resentment and grief." When they arrived there they caused the murderer to be hanged upon a gallows, which, we are told, "was all the satisfaction the French Pirates could expect." _Note._--If we may believe Morgan's statement to Sir T. Modyford, then Governor of Jamaica, he brought with him from Cuba reliable evidence that the Spaniards were planning an attack upon that colony (see State Papers: West Indies and Colonial Series). If the statements of his prisoners were correct, the subsequent piratical raid upon the Main had some justification. Had the Spaniards matured their plans, and pushed the attack home, it is probable that we should have lost our West Indian possessions. _Authorities._--A. O. Exquemeling: "Bucaniers of America," eds. 1684-5 and 1699. Cal. State Papers: "West Indies." CHAPTER X THE SACK OF PORTO BELLO The Gulf of Maracaibo--Morgan's escape from the Spaniards It was a melancholy home-coming. The men had little more than ten pounds apiece to spend in jollity. The merchants who enjoyed their custom were of those kinds least anxious to give credit. The ten pounds were but sufficient to stimulate desire. They did not allow the jolly mariner to enjoy himself with any thoroughness. In a day or two, the buccaneers were at the end of their gold, and had to haunt the street corners, within scent of the rum casks, thinking sadly of the pleasant liquor they could not afford to drink. Henry Morgan took this occasion to recruit for a new enterprise. He went ashore among the drinking-houses, telling all he met of golden towns he meant to capture. He always "communicated vigour with his words," for, being a Welshman, he had a certain fervour of address, not necessarily sincere, which touched his simplest phrase with passion. In a day or two, after a little talk and a little treating, every disconsolate drunkard in the town was "persuaded by his reasons, that the sole execution of his orders, would be a certain means of obtaining great riches." This persuasion, the writer adds, "had such influence upon their minds, that with inimitable courage they all resolved to follow him." Even "a certain Pirate of Campeachy," a shipowner of considerable repute, resolved to follow Morgan "to seek new fortunes and greater advantages than he had found before." The French might hold aloof, they all declared, but an Englishman was still the equal of a Spaniard; while after all a short life and a merry one was better than work ashore or being a parson. With this crude philosophy, they went aboard again to the decks they had so lately left. The Campeachy pirate brought in a ship or two, and some large canoas. In all they had a fleet of nine sail, manned by "four hundred and three score military men." With this force Captain Morgan sailed for Costa Rica. When they came within the sight of land, a council was called, to which the captains of the vessels went. Morgan told them that he meant to plunder Porto Bello by a night attack, "being resolved" to sack the place, "not the least corner escaping his diligence." He added that the scheme had been held secret, so that "it would not fail to succeed well." Besides, he thought it likely that a city of such strength would be unprepared for any sudden attack. The captains were staggered by this resolution, for they thought themselves too weak "to assault so strong and great a city." To this the plucky Welshman answered: "If our number is small, our hearts are great. And the fewer persons we are, the more union and better shares we shall have in the spoil." This answer, with the thought of "those vast riches they promised themselves," convinced the captains that the town could be attempted. It was a "dangerous voyage and bold assault" but Morgan had been lucky in the past, and the luck might still be with him. He knew the Porto Bello country, having been there with a party (perhaps Mansvelt's party) some years before. At any rate the ships would be at hand in the event of a repulse. It was something of a hazard, for the Spanish garrison was formed of all the desperate criminals the colonial police could catch. These men made excellent soldiers, for after a battle they were given the plunder of the men they had killed. Then Panama, with its great garrison, was perilously near at hand, being barely sixty miles away, or two days' journey. Lastly, the town was strongly fortified, with castles guarding it at all points. The garrison was comparatively small, mustering about three companies of foot. To these, however, the buccaneers had to add 300 townsfolk capable of bearing arms. Following John Exquemeling's plan, we add a brief description of this famous town, to help the reader to form a mental picture of it. Porto Bello stands on the south-eastern side of a fine bay, "in the province of Costa Rica." At the time when Morgan captured it (in June 1668) it was one of the strongest cities in the possession of the King of Spain. It was neglected until 1584, when a royal mandate caused the traders of Nombre de Dios to migrate thither. It then became the port of the galleons,[16] where the treasures of the south were shipped for Spain. The city which Morgan sacked was built upon a strip of level ground planted with fruit-trees, at a little distance from the sea, but within a few yards of the bay. The westward half of the town was very stately, being graced with fine stone churches and the residence of the lieutenant-general. Most of the merchants' dwellings (and of these there may have been 100) were built of cedar wood. Some were of stone, a thing unusual in the Indies, and some were partly stone, with wooden upper storeys. There was a fine stone convent peopled by Sisters of Mercy, and a dirty, ruinous old hospital for "the sick men belonging to the ships of war." On the shore there was a quay, backed by a long stone custom-house. The main street ran along the shore behind this custom-house, with cross-streets leading to the two great squares. The eastward half of the city, through which the road to Panama ran, was called Guinea; for there the slaves and negroes used to live, in huts and cottages of sugar-cane and palm leaves. There, too, was the slave mart, to which the cargoes of the Guinea ships were brought. A little river of clear water divided the two halves of the town. Another little river, bridged in two places, ran between the town and Castle Gloria. The place was strongly fortified. Ships entering the bay had to pass close to the "Iron Castle," built upon the western point. Directly they stood away towards the town they were exposed to the guns of Castle Gloria and Fort Jeronimo--the latter a strong castle built upon a sandbank off the Guinea town. The constant population was not large, though probably 300 white men lived there all the year round, in addition to the Spanish garrison. The native quarter was generally inhabited by several hundred negroes and mulattoes. When the galleons arrived there, and for some weeks before, the town was populous with merchants, who came across from Panama to buy and sell. Tents were pitched in the Grand Plaza, in front of the Governor's house, for the protection of perishable goods, like Jesuits'-bark. Gold and silver bars became as common to the sight as pebbles. Droves of mules came daily in from Panama, and ships arrived daily from all the seaports in the Indies. As soon as the galleons sailed for Spain, the city emptied as rapidly as it had filled. It was too unhealthy a place for white folk, who continued there "no longer than was needful to acquire a fortune." [Footnote 16: With reservations. See p. 13, _note_.] [Illustration: PORTO BELLO CIRCA 1740. SHOWING THE SITUATION AND DEFENCES OF THE CITY] Indeed, Porto Bello was one of the most pestilential cities ever built, "by reason of the unhealthiness of the Air, occasioned by certain Vapours that exhale from the Mountains." It was excessively hot, for it lay (as it still lies) in a well, surrounded by hills, "without any intervals to admit the refreshing gales." It was less marshy than Nombre de Dios, but "the sea, when it ebbs, leaves a vast quantity of black, stinking mud, from whence there exhales an intolerable noisome vapour." At every fair-time "a kind of pestilential fever" raged, so that at least 400 folk were buried there annually during the five or six weeks of the market. The complaint may have been yellow fever; (perhaps the cholera), perhaps pernicious fever, aggravated by the dirty habits of the thousands then packed within the town. The mortality was especially heavy among the sailors who worked aboard the galleons, hoisting in or out the bales of merchandise. These mariners drank brandy very freely "to recruit their spirits," and in other ways exposed themselves to the infection. The drinking water of the place was "too fine and active for the stomachs of the inhabitants," who died of dysentery if they presumed to drink of it. The town smoked in a continual steam of heat, unrelieved even by the torrents of rain which fall there every day. The woods are infested with poisonous snakes, and abound in a sort of large toad or frog which crawls into the city after rains. The tigers "often make incursions into the street," as at Nombre de Dios, to carry off children and domestic animals. There was good fishing in the bay, and the land was fertile "beyond wonder," so that the cost of living there, in the _tiempo muerto_, was very small. There is a hill behind the town called the Capiro, about which the streamers of the clouds wreathe whenever rain is coming. The town was taken by Sir Francis Drake in 1595, by Captain Parker in 1601, by Morgan in 1668, by Coxon in 1679, and by Admiral Vernon in 1740. Having told his plans, the admiral bade his men make ready. During the afternoon he held towards the west of Porto Bello, at some distance from the land. The coast up to the Chagres River, and for some miles beyond, is low, so that there was not much risk of the ships being sighted from the shore. As it grew darker, he edged into the land, arriving "in the dusk of the evening" at a place called Puerto de Naos, or Port of Ships, a bay midway between Porto Bello and the Chagres, and about ten leagues from either place. They sailed westward up the coast for a little distance to a place called Puerto Pontin, where they anchored. Here the pirates got their boats out, and took to the oars, "leaving in the ships only a few men to keep them, and conduct them the next day to the port." By the light of lamps and battle lanterns the boats rowed on through the darkness, till at midnight they had came to a station called Estera longa Lemos, a river-mouth a few miles from Porto Bello, "where they all went on shore." After priming their muskets, they set forth towards the city, under the guidance of an English buccaneer, who had been a prisoner at Porto Bello but a little while before. When they were within a mile or two of the town, they sent this Englishmen with three or four companions to take a solitary sentry posted at the city outskirts. If they could not take him, they were to kill him, but without giving the alarm to the inhabitants. By creeping quietly behind him, the party took the sentry, "with such cunning that he had no time to give warning with his musket, or make any other noise." A knife point pressing on his spine, and a gag of wood across his tongue, warned him to attempt no outcry. Some rope-yarn was passed about his wrists, and in this condition he was dragged to Captain Morgan. As soon as he was in the admiral's presence, he was questioned as to the number of soldiers then in the forts, "with many other circumstances." It must have been a most uncomfortable trial, for "after every question, they made him a thousand menaces to kill him, in case he declared not the truth." When they had examined him to their satisfaction, they recommenced their march, "carrying always the said sentry bound before them." Another mile brought them to an outlying fortress, which was built apparently between Porto Bello and the sea, to protect the coast road and a few outlying plantations. It was not yet light, so the pirates crept about the fort unseen, "so that no person could get either in or out." When they had taken up their ground, Morgan bade the captured sentry hail the garrison, charging them to surrender on pain of being cut to pieces. The garrison at once ran to their weapons, and opened a fierce fire on the unseen enemy, thus giving warning to the city that the pirates were attacking. Before they could reload, the buccaneers, "the noble Sparks of Venus," stormed in among them, taking them in their confusion, hardly knowing what was toward. Morgan was furious that the Spaniards had not surrendered at discretion on his challenge. The pirates were flushed with the excitement of the charge. Someone proposed that they "should be as good as their words, in putting the Spaniards to the sword, thereby to strike a terror into the rest of the city." They hustled the Spanish soldiers "into one room," officers and men together. The cellars of the fort were filled with powder barrels. Some ruffian took a handful of the powder, and spilled a train along the ground, telling his comrades to stand clear. His mates ran from the building applauding his device. In another moment the pirate blew upon his musket match to make the end red, and fired the train he had laid, "and blew up the whole castle into the air, with all the Spaniards that were within." "Much the better way of the two," says one of the chroniclers, who saw the explosion. "This being done," says the calm historian, "they pursued the course of their victory" into the town. By this time, the streets were thronged with shrieking townsfolk. Men ran hither and thither with their poor belongings. Many flung their gold and jewels into wells and cisterns, or stamped them underground, "to excuse their being totally robbed." The bells were set clanging in the belfries; while, to increase the confusion, the Governor rode into the streets, calling on the citizens to rally and stand firm. As the dreadful panic did not cease, he rode out of the mob to one of the castles (Castle Gloria), where the troops were under arms. It was now nearly daybreak, or light enough for them to see their enemy. As the pirates came in sight among the fruit-trees, the Governor trained his heavy guns upon them, and opened a smart fire. Some lesser castles, or the outlying works of Castle Gloria, which formed the outer defences of the town, followed his example; nor could the pirates silence them. One party of buccaneers crept round the fortifications to the town, where they attacked the monastery and the convent, breaking into both with little trouble, and capturing a number of monks and nuns. With these they retired to the pirates' lines. For several hours, the pirates got no farther, though the fire did not slacken on either side. The pirates lay among the scrub, hidden in the bushes, in little knots of two and three. They watched the castle embrasures after each discharge of cannon, for the Spaniards could not reload without exposing themselves as they sponged or rammed. Directly a Spaniard appeared, he was picked off from the bushes with such precision that they lost "one or two men every time they charged each gun anew." The losses on the English side were fully as severe; for, sheltered though they were, the buccaneers lost heavily. The lying still under a hot sun was galling to the pirates' temper. They made several attempts to storm, but failed in each attempt owing to the extreme gallantry of the defence. Towards noon they made a furious attack, carrying fireballs, or cans filled with powder and resin, in their hands "designing, if possible, to burn the doors of the castle." As they came beneath the walls, the Spaniards rolled down stones upon them, with "earthen pots full of powder" and iron shells filled full of chain-shot, "which forced them to desist from that attempt." Morgan's party was driven back with heavy loss. It seemed to Morgan at this crisis that the victory was with the Spanish. He wavered for some minutes, uncertain whether to call off his men. "Many faint and calm meditations came into his mind" seeing so many of his best hands dead and the Spanish fire still so furious. As he debated "he was suddenly animated to continue the assault, by seeing the English colours put forth at one of the lesser castles, then entered by his men." A few minutes later the conquerors came swaggering up to join him, "proclaiming victory with loud shouts of joy." Leaving his musketeers to fire at the Spanish gunners, Morgan turned aside to reconnoitre. Making the capture of the lesser fort his excuse, he sent a trumpet, with a white flag, to summon the main castle, where the Governor had flown the Spanish standard. While the herald was gone upon his errand, Morgan set some buccaneers to make a dozen scaling ladders, "so broad that three or four men at once might ascend by them." By the time they were finished, the trumpeter returned, bearing the Governor's answer that "he would never surrender himself alive." When the message had been given, Captain Morgan formed his soldiers into companies, and bade the monks and nuns whom he had taken, to place the ladders against the walls of the chief castle. He thought that the Spanish Governor would hardly shoot down these religious persons, even though they bore the ladders for the scaling parties. In this he was very much mistaken. The Governor was there to hold the castle for his Catholic Majesty, and, like "a brave and courageous soldier," he "refused not to use his utmost endeavours to destroy whoever came near the walls." As the wretched monks and nuns came tottering forward with the ladders, they begged of him, "by all the Saints of Heaven," to haul his colours down, to the saving of their lives. Behind them were the pirates, pricking them forward with their pikes and knives. In front of them were the cannon of their friends, so near that they could see the matches burning in the hands of the gunners. "They ceased not to cry to him," says the narrative; but they could not "prevail with the obstinacy and fierceness that had possessed the Governor's mind"--"the Governor valuing his honour before the lives of the Mass-mumblers." As they drew near to the walls, they quickened their steps, hoping, no doubt, to get below the cannon muzzles out of range. When they were but a few yards from the walls, the cannon fired at them, while the soldiers pelted them with a fiery hail of hand-grenades. "Many of the religious men and nuns were killed before they could fix the ladders"; in fact, the poor folk were butchered there in heaps, before the ladders caught against the parapet. Directly the ladders held, the pirates stormed up with a shout, in great swarms, like a ship's crew going aloft to make the sails fast. They had "fireballs in their hands and earthen pots full of powder," which "they kindled and cast in among the Spaniards" from the summits of the walls. In the midst of the smoke and flame which filled the fort the Spanish Governor stood fighting gallantly. His wife and child were present in that house of death, among the blood and smell, trying to urge him to surrender. The men were running from their guns, and the hand-grenades were bursting all about him, but this Spanish Governor refused to leave his post. The buccaneers who came about him called upon him to surrender, but he answered that he would rather die like a brave soldier than be hanged as a coward for deserting his command, "so that they were enforc'd to kill him, nothwithstanding the cries of his Wife and Daughter." The sun was setting over Iron Castle before the firing came to an end with the capture of the Castle Gloria. The pirates used the last of the light for the securing of their many prisoners. They drove them to some dungeon in the castle, where they shut them up under a guard. The wounded "were put into a certain apartment by itself," without medicaments or doctors, "to the intent their own complaints might be the cure of their diseases." In the dungeons of the castle's lower battery they found eleven English prisoners chained hand and foot. They were the survivors of the garrison of Providence, which the Spaniards treacherously took two years before. Their backs were scarred with many floggings, for they had been forced to work like slaves at the laying of the quay piles in the hot sun, under Spanish overseers. They were released at once, and tenderly treated, nor were they denied a share of the plunder of the town. "Having finish'd this Jobb" the pirates sought out the "recreations of Heroick toil." "They fell to eating and drinking" of the provisions stored within the city, "committing in both these things all manner of debauchery and excess." They tapped the casks of wine and brandy, and "drank about" till they were roaring drunk. In this condition they ran about the town, like cowboys on a spree, "and never examined whether it were Adultery or Fornication which they committed." By midnight they were in such a state of drunken disorder that "if there had been found only fifty courageous men, they might easily have retaken the City, and killed the Pirats." The next day they gathered plunder, partly by routing through the houses, partly by torturing the townsfolk. They seem to have been no less brutal here than they had been in Cuba, though the Porto Bello houses yielded a more golden spoil than had been won at Puerto Principe. They racked one or two poor men until they died. Others they slowly cut to pieces, or treated to the punishment called "woolding," by which the eyes were forced from their sockets under the pressure of a twisted cord. Some were tortured with burning matches "and such like slight torments." A woman was roasted to death "upon a baking stone"--a sin for which one buccaneer ("as he lay sick") was subsequently sorry. While they were indulging these barbarities, they drank and swaggered and laid waste. They stayed within the town for fifteen days, sacking it utterly, to the last ryal. They were too drunk and too greedy to care much about the fever, which presently attacked them, and killed a number, as they lay in drunken stupor in the kennels. News of their riot being brought across the isthmus, the Governor of Panama resolved to send a troop of soldiers, to attempt to retake the city, but he had great difficulty in equipping a sufficient force. Before his men were fit to march, some messengers came in from the imprisoned townsfolk, bringing word from Captain Morgan that he wanted a ransom for the city, "or else he would by fire consume it to ashes." The pirate ships were by this time lying off the town, in Porto Bello bay. They were taking in fresh victuals for the passage home. The ransom asked was 100,000 pieces of eight, or £25,000. If it had not been paid the pirates could have put their threat in force without the slightest trouble. Morgan made all ready to ensure his retreat in the event of an attack from Panama. He placed an outpost of 100 "well-arm'd" men in a narrow part of the passage over the isthmus. All the plunder of the town was sent on board the ships. In this condition he awaited the answer of the President. As soon as that soldier had sufficient musketeers in arms, he marched them across the isthmus to relieve the city. They attempted the pass which Morgan had secured, but lost very heavily in the attempt. The buccaneers charged, and completely routed them, driving back the entire company along the road to Panama. The President had "to retire for that time," but he sent a blustering note to Captain Morgan, threatening him and his with death "when he should take them, as he hoped soon to do." To this Morgan replied that he would not deliver the castles till he had the money, and that if the money did not come, the castles should be blown to pieces, with the prisoners inside them. We are told that "the Governor of Panama perceived by this answer that no means would serve to mollify the hearts of the Pirates, nor reduce them to reason." He decided to let the townsfolk make what terms they could. In a few days more these wretched folk contrived to scrape together the required sum of money, which they paid over as their ransom. Before the expedition sailed away, a messenger arrived from Panama with a letter from the Governor to Captain Morgan. It made no attempt to mollify his heart nor to reduce him to reason, but it expressed a wonder at the pirates' success. He asked, as a special favour, that Captain Morgan would send him "some small patterns" of the arms with which the city had been taken. He thought it passing marvellous that a town so strongly fortified should have been won by men without great guns. Morgan treated the messenger to a cup of drink, and gave him a pistol and some leaden bullets "to carry back to the President, his Master." "He desired him to accept that pattern of the arms wherewith he had taken Porto Bello." He requested him to keep them for a twelvemonth, "after which time he promised to come to Panama and fetch them away." The Spaniard returned the gift to Captain Morgan, "giving him thanks for lending him such weapons as he needed not." He also sent a ring of gold, with the warning "not to give himself the trouble of coming to Panama," for "he should not speed so well there" as he had sped at Porto Bello. "After these transactions" Captain Morgan loosed his top-sail, as a signal to unmoor. His ships were fully victualled for the voyage, and the loot was safely under hatches. As a precaution, he took with him the best brass cannon from the fortress. The iron guns were securely spiked with soft metal nails, which were snapped off flush with the touch-holes. The anchors were weighed to the music of the fiddlers, a salute of guns was fired, and the fleet stood out of Porto Bello bay along the wet, green coast, passing not very far from the fort which they had blown to pieces. In a few days' time they raised the Keys of Cuba, their favourite haven, where "with all quiet and repose" they made their dividend. "They found in ready money two hundred and fifty thousand pieces of eight, besides all other merchandises, as cloth, linen, silks and other goods." The spoil was amicably shared about the mast before a course was shaped for their "common rendezvous"--Port Royal. A godly person in Jamaica, writing at this juncture in some distress, expressed himself as follows:--"There is not now resident upon this place ten men to every [licensed] house that selleth strong liquors ... besides sugar and rum works that sell without license." When Captain Morgan's ships came flaunting into harbour, with their colours fluttering and the guns thundering salutes, there was a rustle and a stir in the heart of every publican. "All the Tavern doors stood open, as they do at London, on Sundays, in the afternoon." Within those tavern doors, "in all sorts of vices and debauchery," the pirates spent their plunder "with huge prodigality," not caring what might happen on the morrow. Shortly after the return from Porto Bello, Morgan organised another expedition with which he sailed into the Gulf of Maracaibo. His ships could not proceed far on account of the shallowness of the water, but by placing his men in the canoas he penetrated to the end of the Gulf. On the way he sacked Maracaibo, a town which had been sacked on two previous occasions--the last time by L'Ollonais only a couple of years before. Morgan's men tortured the inhabitants, according to their custom, either by "woolding" them or by placing burning matches between their toes. They then set sail for Gibraltar, a small town strongly fortified, at the south-east corner of the Gulf. The town was empty, for the inhabitants had fled into the hills with "all their goods and riches." But the pirates sent out search parties, who brought in many prisoners. These were examined, with the usual cruelties, being racked, pressed, hung up by the heels, burnt with palm leaves, tied to stakes, suspended by the thumbs and toes, flogged with rattans, or roasted at the camp fires. Some were crucified, and burnt between the fingers as they hung on the crosses; "others had their feet put into the fire." When they had extracted the last ryal from the sufferers they shipped themselves aboard some Spanish vessels lying in the port. They were probably cedar-built ships, of small tonnage, built at the Gibraltar yards. In these they sailed towards Maracaibo, where they found "a poor distressed old man, who was sick." This old man told them that the Castle de la Barra, which guarded the entrance to the Gulf, had been mounted with great guns and manned by a strong garrison. Outside the channel were three Spanish men-of-war with their guns run out and decks cleared for battle. The truth of these assertions was confirmed by a scouting party the same day. In order to gain a little time Morgan sent a Spaniard to the admiral of the men-of-war, demanding a ransom "for not putting Maracaibo to the flame." The answer reached him in a day or two, warning him to surrender all his plunder, and telling him that if he did not, he should be destroyed by the sword. There was no immediate cause for haste, because the Spanish admiral could not cross the sandbanks into the Gulf until he had obtained flat-bottomed boats from Caracas. Morgan read the letter to his men "in the market-place of Maracaibo," "both in French and English," and then asked them would they give up all their spoil, and pass unharmed, or fight for its possession. They agreed with one voice to fight, "to the very last drop of blood," rather than surrender the booty they had risked their skins to get. One of the men undertook to rig a fireship to destroy the Spanish admiral's flagship. He proposed to fill her decks with logs of wood "standing with hats and Montera caps," like gunners standing at their guns. At the port-holes they would place other wooden logs to resemble cannon. The ship should then hang out the English colours, the Jack or the red St George's cross, so that the enemy should deem her "one of our best men of war that goes to fight them." The scheme pleased everyone, but there was yet much anxiety among the pirates. Morgan sent another letter to the Spanish admiral, offering to spare Maracaibo without ransom; to release his prisoners, with one half of the captured slaves; and to send home the hostages he brought away from Gibraltar, if he might be granted leave to pass the entry. The Spaniard rejected all these terms, with a curt intimation that, if the pirates did not surrender within two more days, they should be compelled to do so at the sword's point. Morgan received the Spaniard's answer angrily, resolving to attempt the passage "without surrendering anything." He ordered his men to tie the slaves and prisoners, so that there should be no chance of their attempting to rise. They then rummaged Maracaibo for brimstone, pitch, and tar, with which to make their fireship. They strewed her deck with fireworks and with dried palm leaves soaked in tar. They cut her outworks down, so that the fire might more quickly spread to the enemy's ship at the moment of explosion. They broke open some new gun-ports, in which they placed small drums, "of which the negroes make use." "Finally, the decks were handsomely beset with many pieces of wood dressed up in the shape of men with hats or monteras, and likewise armed with swords, muskets, and bandoliers." The plunder was then divided among the other vessels of the squadron. A guard of musketeers was placed over the prisoners, and the pirates then set sail towards the passage. The fireship went in advance, with orders to fall foul of the _Spanish Admiral_, a ship of forty guns. [Illustration: THE FIRESHIP DESTROYING THE SPANISH ADMIRAL CASTLE DE LA BARRA IN BACKGROUND] When it grew dark they anchored for the night, with sentinels on each ship keeping vigilant watch. They were close to the entry, almost within shot of the Spaniards, and they half expected to be boarded in the darkness. At dawn they got their anchors, and set sail towards the Spaniards, who at once unmoored, and beat to quarters. In a few minutes the fireship ran into the man-of-war, "and grappled to her sides" with kedges thrown into her shrouds. The Spaniards left their guns, and strove to thrust her away, but the fire spread so rapidly that they could not do so. The flames caught the warship's sails, and ran along her sides with such fury that her men had hardly time to get away from her before she blew her bows out, and went to the bottom. The second ship made no attempt to engage: her crew ran her ashore, and deserted, leaving her bilged in shallow water. As the pirates rowed towards the wreck some of the deserters hurried back to fire her. The third ship struck her colours without fighting. Seeing their advantage a number of the pirates landed to attack the castle, where the shipwrecked Spaniards were rallying. A great skirmish followed, in which the pirates lost more men than had been lost at Porto Bello. They were driven off with heavy loss, though they continued to annoy the fort with musket fire till the evening. As it grew dark they returned to Maracaibo, leaving one of their ships to watch the fortress and to recover treasure from the sunken flagship. Morgan now wrote to the Spanish admiral, demanding a ransom for the town. The citizens were anxious to get rid of him at any cost, so they compounded with him, seeing that the admiral disdained to treat, for the sum of 20,000 pieces of eight and 500 cattle. The gold was paid, and the cattle duly counted over, killed, and salted; but Morgan did not purpose to release his prisoners until his ship was safely past the fort. He told the Maracaibo citizens that they would not be sent ashore until the danger of the passage was removed. With this word he again set sail to attempt to pass the narrows. He found his ship still anchored near the wreck, but in more prosperous sort than he had left her. Her men had brought up 15,000 pieces of eight, with a lot of gold and silver plate, "as hilts of swords and other things," besides "great quantity of pieces of eight" which had "melted and run together" in the burning of the vessel. Morgan now made a last appeal to the Spanish admiral, telling him that he would hang his prisoners if the fortress fired on him as he sailed past. The Spanish admiral sent an answer to the prisoners, who had begged him to relent, informing them that he would do his duty, as he wished they had done theirs. Morgan heard the answer, and realised that he would have to use some stratagem to escape the threatened danger. He made a dividend of the plunder before he proceeded farther, for he feared that some of the fleet might never win to sea, and that the captains of those which escaped might be tempted to run away with their ships. The spoils amounted to 250,000 pieces of eight, as at Porto Bello, though in addition to this gold there were numbers of slaves and heaps of costly merchandise. When the booty had been shared he put in use his stratagem. He embarked his men in the canoas, and bade them row towards the shore "as if they designed to land." When they reached the shore they hid under the overhanging boughs "till they had laid themselves down along in the boats." Then one or two men rowed the boats back to the ships, with the crews concealed under the thwarts. The Spaniards in the fortress watched the going and returning of the boats. They could not see the stratagem, for the boats were too far distant, but they judged that the pirates were landing for a night attack. The boats plied to and from the shore at intervals during the day. The anxious Spaniards resolved to prepare for the assault by placing their great guns on the landward side of the fortress. They cleared away the scrub on that side, in order to give their gunners a clear view of the attacking force when the sun set. They posted sentries, and stood to their arms, expecting to be attacked. As soon as night had fallen the buccaneers weighed anchor. A bright moon was shining, and by the moonlight the ships steered seaward under bare poles. As they came abreast of the castle on the gentle current of the ebb, they loosed their sails to a fair wind blowing seaward. At the same moment, while the top-sails were yet slatting, Captain Morgan fired seven great guns "with bullets" as a last defiance. The Spaniards dragged their cannon across the fortress, "and began to fire very furiously," without much success. The wind freshened, and as the ships drew clear of the narrows they felt its force, and began to slip through the water. One or two shots took effect upon them before they drew out of range, but "the Pirates lost not many of their men, nor received any considerable damage in their ships." They hove to at a distance of a mile from the fort in order to send a boat in with a number of the prisoners. They then squared their yards, and stood away towards Jamaica, where they arrived safely, after very heavy weather, a few days later. Here they went ashore in their stolen velvets and silks to spend their silver dollars in the Port Royal rum shops. Some mates of theirs were ashore at that time after an unlucky cruise. It was their pleasure "to mock and jeer" these unsuccessful pirates, "often telling them: Let us see what money you brought from Comana, and if it be as good silver as that which we bring from Maracaibo." _Note._--On his return from Maracaibo, Morgan gave out that he had met with further information of an intended Spanish attack on Jamaica. He may have made the claim to justify his actions on the Main, which were considerably in excess of the commission Modyford had given him. On the other hand, a Spanish attack may have been preparing, as he stated; but the preparations could not have gone far, for had the Spaniards been prepared for such an expedition Morgan's Panama raid could never have succeeded. _Authorities._--Exquemeling's "History of The Bucaniers of America"; Exquemeling's "History" (the Malthus edition), 1684. Cal. State Papers: West Indian and Colonial Series. For my account of Porto Bello I am indebted to various brief accounts in Hakluyt, and to a book entitled "A Description of the Spanish Islands," by a "Gentleman long resident in those parts." I have also consulted the brief notices in Dampier's Voyages, Wafer's Voyages, various gazetteers, and some maps and pamphlets relating to Admiral Vernon's attack in 1739-40. There is a capital description of the place as it was in its decadence, _circa_ 1820, in Michael Scott's "Tom Cringle's Log." CHAPTER XI MORGAN'S GREAT RAID Chagres castle--Across the isthmus--Sufferings of the buccaneers--Venta Cruz--Old Panama Some months later Henry Morgan found his pirates in all the miseries of poverty. They had wasted all their silver dollars, and longed for something "to expend anew in wine" before they were sold as slaves to pay their creditors. He thought that he would save them from their misery by going a new cruise. There was no need for him to drum up recruits in the rum shops, for his name was glorious throughout the Indies. He had but to mention that "he intended for the Main" to get more men than he could ship. He "assigned the south side of the Isle of Tortuga" for his rendezvous, and he sent out letters to the "ancient and expert Pirates" and to the planters and hunters in Hispaniola, asking them, in the American general's phrase, "to come and dip their spoons in a platter of glory." Long before the appointed day the rendezvous was crowded, for ships, canoas, and small boats came thronging to the anchorage with all the ruffians of the Indies. Many marched to the rendezvous across the breadth of Hispaniola "with no small difficulties." The muster brought together a grand variety of rascaldom, from Campeachy in the west to Trinidad in the east. Hunters, planters, logwood cutters, Indians, and half-breeds came flocking from their huts and inns to go upon the grand account. Lastly, Henry Morgan came in his fine Spanish ship, with the brass and iron guns. At the firing of a gun the assembled captains came on board to him for a pirates' council, over the punch-bowl, in the admiral's cabin. It was decided at this council to send a large party to the Main, to the de la Hacha River, "to assault a small village" of the name of La Rancheria--the chief granary in all the "Terra Firma." The pirates were to seize as much maize there as they could find--enough, if possible, to load the ships of the expedition. While they were away their fellows at Tortuga were to clean and rig the assembled ships to fit them for the coming cruise. Another large party was detailed to hunt in the woods for hogs and cattle. In about five weeks' time the ships returned from Rio de la Hacha, after much buffeting at sea. They brought with them a grain ship they had taken in the port, and several thousand sacks of corn which the Spaniards had paid them as "a ransom for not burning the town." They had also won a lot of silver, "with all other things they could rob"--such as pearls from the local pearl beds. The hunters had killed and salted an incredible quantity of beef and pork, the ships were scraped and tallowed, and nothing more was to be done save to divide the victuals among all the buccaneers. This division did not take much time. Within a couple of days the admiral loosed his top-sail. The pirates fired off their guns and hove their anchors up. They sailed out of Port Couillon with a fair wind, in a great bravery of flags, towards the rendezvous at Cape Tiburon, to the south-west of the island Hispaniola. When they reached Cape Tiburon, where there is a good anchorage, they brought aboard a store of oranges, to save them from the scurvy. While the men were busy in the orange groves Henry Morgan "gave letters patent, or commissions," to all his captains, "to act all manner of hostility against the Spanish nation." For this act he had the sealed authority of the Council of Jamaica. He was no longer a pirate or buccaneer, but an admiral leading a national enterprise. As we have said, he had heard, on the Main, of an intended Spanish attack upon Jamaica; indeed, it is probable that his capture of Porto Bello prevented the ripening of the project. There is no need to whitewash Morgan, but we may at least regard him at this juncture as the saviour of our West Indian colonies. After the serving out of these commissions, and their due sealing, the captains were required to sign the customary articles, allotting the shares of the prospective plunder. The articles allotted very liberal compensation to the wounded; they also expressly stated the reward to be given for bravery in battle. Fifty pieces of eight were allotted to him who should haul a Spanish colour down and hoist the English flag in its place. Surgeons received 200 pieces of eight "for their chests of medicaments." Carpenters received one half of that sum. Henry Morgan, the admiral of the fleet, was to receive one-hundredth part of all the plunder taken. His vice-admiral's share is not stated. As a stimulus to the pirates, it was published through the fleet that any captain and crew who ventured on, and took, a Spanish ship should receive a tenth part of her value as a reward to themselves for their bravery. When the contracts had been signed Morgan asked his captains which town they should attempt. They had thirty-seven ships, carrying at least 500 cannon. They had 2000 musketeers, "besides mariners and boys," while they possessed "great quantity of ammunition, and fire balls, with other inventions of powder." With such an armament, he said, they could attack the proudest of the Spanish cities. They could sack La Vera Cruz, where the gold from Manila was put aboard the galleons, as they lay alongside the quays moored to the iron ring-bolts; or they could go eastward to the town of Cartagena to pillage our Lady's golden altar in the church there; or they could row up the Chagres River, and keep the promise Morgan had made to the Governor of Panama. The captains pronounced for Panama, but they added, as a rider, that it would be well to go to Santa Katalina to obtain guides. The Santa Katalina fort was still in the possession of the Spaniards, who now used it as a convict settlement, sending thither all the outlaws of the "Terra Firma." It would be well, they said, to visit Santa Katalina to select a few choice cut-throats to guide them over the isthmus. With this resolution they set sail for Santa Katalina, where they anchored on the fourth day, "before sunrise," in a bay called the Aguada Grande. Some of the buccaneers had been there under Mansvelt, and these now acted as guides to the men who went ashore in the fighting party. A day of hard fighting followed, rather to the advantage of the Spaniards, for the pirates won none of the batteries, and had to sleep in the open, very wet and hungry. The next day Morgan threatened the garrison with death if they did not yield "within few hours." The Governor was not a very gallant man, like the Governor at Porto Bello. Perhaps he was afraid of his soldiers, the convicts from the "Terra Firma." At anyrate he consented to surrender, but he asked that the pirates would have the kindness to pretend to attack him, "for the saving of his honesty." Morgan agreed very gladly to this proposition, for he saw little chance of taking the fort by storm. When the night fell, he followed the Governor's direction, and began a furious bombardment, "but without bullets, or at least into the air." The castles answered in the like manner, burning a large quantity of powder. Then the pirates stormed into the castles in a dramatic way; while the Spaniards retreated to the church, and hung out the white flag. Early the next morning the pirates sacked the place, and made great havoc in the poultry-yards and cattle-pens. They pulled down a number of wooden houses to supply their camp fires. The guns they nailed or sent aboard. The powder they saved for their own use, but some proportion of it went to the destruction of the forts, which, with one exception, they blew up. For some days they stayed there, doing nothing but "roast and eat, and make good cheer," sending the Spaniards to the fields to rout out fresh provisions. While they lay there, Morgan asked "if any banditti were there from Panama," as he had not yet found his guides. Three scoundrels came before him, saying that they knew the road across the isthmus, and that they would act as guides if such action were made profitable. Morgan promised them "equal shares in all they should pillage and rob," and told them that they should come with him to Jamaica at the end of the cruise. These terms suited the three robbers very well. One of them, "a wicked fellow," "the greatest rogue, thief and assassin among them," who had deserved rather "to be broken alive upon a wheel than punished with serving in a garrison," was the spokesman of the trio. He was the Dubosc of that society, "and could domineer and command over them," "they not daring to refuse obedience." This truculent ruffian, with his oaths and his knives and his black moustachios, was elected head guide. After several days of ease upon the island Morgan sent a squadron to the Main, with 400 men, four ships, and a canoa, "to go and take the Castle of Chagre," at the entrance to the Chagres River. He would not send a larger company, though the fort was strong, for he feared "lest the Spaniards should be jealous of his designs upon Panama"--lest they should be warned, that is, by refugees from Chagres before he tried to cross the isthmus. Neither would he go himself, for he was still bent upon establishing a settlement at Santa Katalina. He chose out an old buccaneer, of the name of Brodely or Bradly, who had sailed with Mansvelt, to command the expedition. He was famous in his way this Captain Brodely, for he had been in all the raids, and had smelt a quantity of powder. He was as brave as a lion, resourceful as a sailor, and, for a buccaneer, most prudent. Ordering his men aboard, he sailed for the Chagres River, where, three days later, he arrived. He stood in towards the river's mouth; but the guns of the castle opened on him, making that anchorage impossible. But about a league from the castle there is a small bay, and here Captain Brodely brought his ships to anchor, and sent his men to their blankets, warning them to stand by for an early call. [Illustration: CHAGRES CIRCA 1739] The castle of San Lorenzo, which guarded the Chagres River's mouth, was built on the right bank of that river, on a high hill of great steepness. The hill has two peaks, with a sort of natural ditch some thirty feet in depth between them. The castle was built upon the seaward peak, and a narrow drawbridge crossed the gully to the other summit, which was barren and open to the sight. The river swept round the northern side of the hill with considerable force. To the south the hill was precipitous, and of such "infinite asperity," that no man could climb it. To the east was the bridged gully connecting the garrison with the isthmus. To the west, in a crook of the land, was the little port of Chagres, where ships might anchor in seven or eight fathoms, "being very fit for small vessels." Not far from the foot of the hill, facing the river's mouth, there was a battery of eight great guns commanding the approach. A little way beneath were two more batteries, each with six great guns, to supplement the one above. A path led from these lower batteries to the protected harbour. A steep flight of stairs, "hewed out of the rock," allowed the soldiers to pass from the water to the summit of the castle. The defences at the top of the hill were reinforced with palisadoes. The keep, or inner castle, was hedged about with a double fence of plank--the fences being six or seven feet apart, and the interstices filled in with earth, like gabions. On one side of the castle were the storesheds for merchandise and ammunition. On the other, and within the palisadoes everywhere, were soldiers' huts, built of mud and wattle, thatched with palm leaves, "after the manner of the Indians." Lastly, as a sort of outer defence, a great submerged rock prevented boats from coming too near the seaward side. Early in the morning Captain Bradly turned his hands up by the boatswain's pipe, and bade them breakfast off their beef and parched corn. Maize and charqui were packed into knapsacks for the march, and the pirates rowed ashore to open the campaign. The ruffians from Santa Katalina took their stations at the head of the leading company, with trusty pirates just behind them ready to pistol them if they played false. In good spirits they set forth from the beach, marching in the cool of the morning before the sun had risen. The way led through mangrove swamps, where the men sank to their knees in rotting grasses or plunged to their waists in slime. Those who have seen a tropical swamp will know how fierce the toil was. They were marching in a dank world belonging to an earlier age than ours. They were in the age of the coal strata, among wet, green things, in a silence only broken by the sound of dropping or by the bellow of an alligator. They were there in the filth, in the heat haze, in a mist of miasma and mosquitoes. In all probability they were swearing at themselves for coming thither. At two o'clock in the afternoon the buccaneers pushed through a thicket of liane and green cane, and debouched quite suddenly upon the barren hilltop facing San Lorenzo Castle. As they formed up, they were met with a thundering volley, which threw them into some confusion. They retreated to the cover of the jungle to debate a plan of battle, greatly fearing that a fort so strongly placed would be impregnable without great guns to batter it. However, they were a reckless company, careless of their lives, and hot with the tramping through the swamp. Give it up they could not, for fear of the mockery of their mates. The desperate course was the one course open to them. They lit the fireballs, or grenades, they had carried through the marsh; they drew their swords, and "Come on!" they cried. "Have at all!" And forward they stormed, cursing as they ran. A company in reserve remained behind in cover, firing over the storming party with their muskets. As the pirates threw themselves into the gully, the walls of San Lorenzo burst into a flame of gun fire. The Spaniards fought their cannon furiously--as fast as they could fire and reload--while the musketeers picked off the leaders from the loopholes. "Come on, ye English dogs!" they cried. "Come on, ye heretics! ye cuckolds! Let your skulking mates behind there come on too! You'll not get to Panama this bout." "Come on" the pirates did, with great gallantry. They flung themselves down into the ditch, and stormed up the opposite slope to the wooden palings. Here they made a desperate attempt to scale, but the foothold was too precarious and the pales too high. In a few roaring minutes the attack was at an end: it had withered away before the Spanish fire. The buccaneers were retreating in knots of one or two, leaving some seventy of their number on the sun-bleached rocks of the gully. When they got back to the jungle they lay down to rest, and slept there quietly while the daylight lasted, though the Spaniards still sent shots in their direction. As soon as it was dark, they made another furious assault, flinging their fireballs against the palings in order to burst the planks apart. While they were struggling in the ditch, a pirate ran across the gully with his body bent, as is natural to a running man. As he ran, an arrow took him in the back, and pierced him through to the side. He paused a moment, drew the arrow from the wound, wrapped the shaft of it with cotton as a wad, and fired it back over the paling with his musket. The cotton he had used caught fire from the powder, and it chanced that this blazing shaft drove home into a palm thatch. In the hurry and confusion the flame was not noticed, though it spread rapidly across the huts till it reached some powder casks. There was a violent explosion just within the palisadoes, and stones and blazing sticks came rattling down about the Spaniards' ears. The inner castle roared up in a blaze, calling the Spaniards from their guns to quench the fire--no easy task so high above the water. While the guns were deserted, the pirates ran along the bottom of the ditch, thrusting their fireballs under the palisadoes, which now began to burn in many places. As the flames spread, the planking warped, and fell. The outer planks inclined slightly outward, like the futtocks of a ship, so that, when they weakened in the fire, the inner weight of earth broke them through. The pirates now stood back from the fort, in the long black shadows, to avoid the showers of earth--"great heaps of earth"--which were falling down into the ditch. Presently the slope from the bottom of the gully was piled with earth, so that the pirates could rush up to the breaches, and hurl their firepots across the broken woodwork. The San Lorenzo fort was now a spiring red flame of fire--a beacon to the ships at sea. Before midnight the wooden walls were burnt away to charcoal; the inner fort was on fire in many places; yet the Spaniards still held the earthen ramparts, casting down "many flaming pots," and calling on the English dogs to attack them. The pirates lay close in the shadows, picking off the Spaniards as they moved in the red firelight, so that many poor fellows came toppling into the gully from the mounds. When day dawned, the castle lay open to the pirates. The walls were all burnt, and fallen down, but in the breaches stood the Spanish soldiers, manning their guns as though the walls still protected them. The fight began as furiously as it had raged the day before. By noon most of the Spanish gunners had been shot down by the picked musketeers; while a storming party ran across the ditch, and rushed a breach. As the pirates gained the inside of the fort, the Spanish Governor charged home upon them with twenty-five soldiers armed with pikes, clubbed muskets, swords, or stones from the ruin. For some minutes these men mixed in a last desperate struggle; then the Spaniards were driven back by the increasing numbers of the enemy. Fighting hard, they retreated to the inner castle, cheered by their Governor, who still called on them to keep their flag aloft. The inner castle was a ruin, but the yellow flag still flew there, guarded by some sorely wounded soldiers and a couple of guns. Here the last stand was made, and here the gallant captain was hit by a bullet, "which pierced his skull into the brain." The little band of brave men now went to pieces before the rush of pirates. Some of them fell back, still fighting, to the wall, over which they flung themselves "into the sea," dying thus honourably rather than surrender. About thirty of them, "whereof scarce ten were not wounded," surrendered in the ruins of the inner fortress. These thirty hurt and weary men were the survivors of 314 who had stood to arms the day before. All the rest were dead, save "eight or nine," who had crept away by boat up the Chagres to take the news to Panama. No officer remained alive, nor was any powder left; the Spaniards were true soldiers. The pirates lost "above one hundred killed" and over seventy wounded, or rather more than half of the men engaged. While the few remaining Spaniards dug trenches in the sand for the burial of the many dead, the pirates questioned them as to their knowledge of Morgan's enterprise. They knew all about it, they said, for a deserter from the pirate ships which raided the Rio de la Hacha (for grain) had spoken of the scheme to the Governor at Cartagena. That captain had reinforced the Chagres garrison, and had sent a warning over the isthmus to the Governor at Panama. The Chagres was now well lined with ambuscades. Panama was full of soldiers, and the whole Spanish population was ready to take up arms to drive the pirates to their ships, so they knew what they might look to get in case they persisted in their plan. This information was sent to Henry Morgan at the Santa Katalina fort, with news of the reduction of the Chagres castle. Before he received it, Captain Joseph Bradly died in the castle, of a wound he had received in the fighting. When Morgan received the news that San Lorenzo had been stormed, he began to send aboard the meat, maize, and cassava he had collected in Santa Katalina. He had already blown the Spanish forts to pieces, with the one exception of the fort of St Teresa. He now took all the captured Spanish guns, and flung them into the sea, where they lie still, among the scarlet coral sprays. The Spanish town was then burnt, and the Spanish prisoners placed aboard the ships. It was Morgan's intention to return to the island after sacking Panama, and to leave there a strong garrison to hold it in the interests of the buccaneers. When he had made these preparations he weighed his anchors, and sailed for the Chagres River under the English colours. Eight days later they came sailing slowly up towards the river's mouth. Their joy was so great "when they saw the English colours upon the castle, that they minded not their way into the river," being gathered at the rum cask instead of at the lead, and calling healths instead of soundings. As a consequence, four ships of the fleet, including the admiral's flagship, ran foul of the ledge of rocks at the river's entry. Several men were drowned, but the goods and ships' stores were saved, though with some difficulty. As they got out warps to bring the ships off, the north wind freshened. In shallow water, such as that, a sea rises very quickly. In a few hours a regular "norther" had set in, and the ships beat to pieces on the ledge before the end of the day. As Morgan came ashore at the port, the guns were fired in salute, and the pirates lined the quay and the castle walls to give him a triumphant welcome. He examined the castle, questioned the lieutenants, and at once took steps to repair the damage done by the fire. The thirty survivors of the garrison and all the prisoners from Santa Katalina, were set to work to drive in new palisadoes in the place of those burnt in the attack. The huts were rethatched and the whole place reordered. There were some Spanish ships in the port whose crews had been pressed into the Spanish garrison at the time of the storm. They were comparatively small, of the kind known as chatas, or chatten, a sort of coast boat of slight draught, used for river work and for the conveyance of goods from the Chagres to the cities on the Main. They had iron and brass guns aboard them, which were hoisted out, and mounted in the fort. Captain Morgan then picked a garrison of 500 buccaneers to hold the fort, under a buccaneer named Norman. He placed 150 more in the ships in the anchorage, and embarked the remainder in flat-bottomed boats for the voyage up the Chagres. It was the dry season, so that the river, at times so turbulent, was dwindled to a tenth of its volume. In order that the hard work of hauling boats over shallows might not be made still harder, Morgan gave orders that the men should take but scanty stock of provisions. A few maize cobs and a strip or two of charqui was all the travelling store in the scrips his pilgrims carried. They hoped that they would find fresh food in the Spanish strongholds, or ambuscades, which guarded the passage over the isthmus. [Illustration: THE ISTHMUS SHOWING MORGAN'S LINE OF ADVANCE] The company set sail from San Lorenzo on the morning of the 12th (one says the 18th) of January 1671. They numbered in all 1200 men, packed into thirty-two canoas and the five chatas they had taken in the port. His guides went on ahead in one of the chatas, with her guns aboard her and the matches lit, and one Robert Delander, a buccaneer captain, in command. The first day's sailing against a gentle current was pleasant enough. In spite of the heat and the overcrowding of the boats, they made six leagues between dawn and sunset, and anchored at a place called De los Bracos. Here a number of the pirates went ashore to sleep "and stretch their limbs, they being almost crippled with lying too much crowded in the boats." They also foraged up and down for food in the plantations; but the Spaniards had fled with all their stores. It was the first day of the journey over the isthmus, yet many of the men had already come to an end of their provisions. "The greatest part of them" ate nothing all day, nor enjoyed "any other refreshment" than a pipe of tobacco. The next day, "very early in the morning," before the sun rose, they shoved off from the mooring-place. They rowed all day, suffering much from the mosquitoes, but made little progress. The river was fallen very low, so that they were rowing or poling over a series of pools joined by shallow rapids. To each side of them were stretches of black, alluvial mud, already springing green with shrubs and water-plants. Every now and then, as they rowed on, on the dim, sluggish, silent, steaming river, they butted a sleeping alligator as he sunned in the shallows, or were stopped by a fallen tree, brought by the summer floods and left to rot there. At twilight, when the crying of the birds became more intense and the monkeys gathered to their screaming in the treetops, the boats drew up to the bank at a planter's station, or wayside shrine, known as Cruz de Juan Gallego. Here they went ashore to sleep, still gnawed with famine, and faint with the hard day's rowing. The guides told Henry Morgan that after another two leagues they might leave the boats, and push through the woods on foot. Early the next morning the admiral decided to leave the boats, for with his men so faint from hunger he thought it dangerous to tax them with a labour so severe as rowing. He left 160 men to protect the fleet, giving them the strictest orders to remain aboard. "No man," he commanded, "upon any pretext whatsoever, should dare to leave the boats and go ashore." The woods there were so dark and thick that a Spanish garrison might have lain within 100 yards of the fleet, and cut off any stragglers who landed. Having given his orders, he chose out a gang of macheteros, or men carrying the sharp sword-like machetes, to march ahead of the main body, to cut a trackway in the pulpy green stuff. They then set forward through the forest, over their ankles in swampy mud, up to their knees sometimes in rotting leaves, clambering over giant tree trunks, wading through stagnant brooks, staggering and slipping and swearing, faint with famine; a very desperate gang of cut-throats. As they marched, the things called garapatadas, or wood-ticks, of which some six sorts flourish there, dropped down upon them in scores, to add their burning bites to the venom of the mosquitoes. In a moist atmosphere of at least 90°, with heavy arms to carry, that march must have been terrible. Even the buccaneers, men hardened to the climate, could not endure it: they straggled back to the boats, and re-embarked. With a great deal of trouble the pirates dragged the boats "to a place farther up the river, called Cedro Bueno," where they halted for the stragglers, who drifted in during the evening. Here they went ashore to a wretched bivouac, to lie about the camp fires, with their belts drawn tight, chewing grass or aromatic leaves to allay their hunger. After Cedro Bueno the river narrowed, so that there was rather more water to float the canoas. The land, too, was less densely wooded, and easier for the men to march upon. On the fourth day "the greatest part of the Pirates marched by land, being led by one of the guides." Another guide led the rest of them in the canoas; two boats going ahead of the main fleet, one on each side of the river, to discover "the ambuscades of the Spaniards." The Spaniards had lined the river-banks at intervals with Indian spies, who were so "very dexterous" that they brought intelligence of the coming of the pirates "six hours at least before they came to any place." About noon on this day, as the boats neared Torna Cavallos, one of the guides cried out that he saw an ambuscade. "His voice caused infinite joy to all the Pirates," who made sure that the fastness would be well provisioned, and that at last they might "afford something to the ferment of their stomachs, which now was grown so sharp that it did gnaw their very bowels." The place was carried with a rush; but the redoubt was empty. The Spaniards had all fled away some hours before, when their spies had come in from down the river. There had been 500 Spaniards there standing to arms behind the barricade of tree trunks. They had marched away with all their gear, save only a few leather bags, "all empty," and a few crusts and bread crumbs "upon the ground where they had eaten." There were a few shelter huts, thatched with palm leaves, within the barricade. These the pirates tore to pieces in the fury of their disappointment. They fell upon the leather bags like hungry dogs quarrelling for a bone. They fought and wrangled for the scraps of leather, and ate them greedily, "with frequent gulps of water." Had they taken any Spaniards there "they would certainly in that occasion [or want] have roasted or boiled" them "to satisfy their famine." Somewhat relieved by the scraps of leather, they marched on along the river-bank to "another post called Torna Munni." Here they found a second wall of tree trunks, loopholed for musketry, "but as barren and desert as the former." They sought about in the woods for fruits or roots, but could find nothing--"the Spaniards having been so provident as not to leave behind them anywhere the least crumb of sustenance." There was nothing for them but "those pieces of leather, so hard and dry," a few of which had been saved "for supper" by the more provident. He who had a little scrap of hide, would slice it into strips, "and beat it between two stones, and rub it, often dipping it in the water of the river, to render it by these means supple and tender." Lastly, the hair was scraped off, and the piece "roasted or broiled" at the camp fire upon a spit of lance wood. "And being thus cooked they cut it into small morsels, and eat it," chewing each bit for several minutes as though loth to lose it, and helping it down "with frequent gulps of water." There was plenty of fish in the Chagres, but perhaps they had no lines. It seems strange, however, that they made no attempt to kill some of the myriads of birds and monkeys in the trees, or the edible snakes which swarm in the grass, or, as a last resource, the alligators in the river. Gaunt with hunger, they took the trail again after a night of misery at Torna Munni. The going was slightly better, but there was still the wood-ticks, the intense, damp heat, and the lust for food to fight against. About noon they staggered in to Barbacoas, now a station on the Isthmian Railway. There were a few huts at Barbacoas, for the place was of some small importance. A native swinging bridge, made of bejuco cane, was slung across the river there for the benefit of travellers going to Porto Bello. An ambush had been laid at Barbacoas, but the Spaniards had left the place, after sweeping it as bare as Torna Munni. The land was in tillage near the huts, but the plantations were barren. "They searched very narrowly, but could not find any person, animal or other thing that was capable of relieving their extreme and ravenous hunger." After a long search they chanced upon a sort of cupboard in the rocks, "in which they found two sacks of meal, wheat, and like things, with two great jars of wine, and certain fruits called Platanos," or large bananas. Morgan very firmly refused to allow the buccaneers to use this food. He reserved it strictly for those who were in greatest want, thereby saving a number of lives. The dying men were given a little meal and wine, and placed in the canoas, "and those commanded to land that were in them before." They then marched on "with greater courage than ever," till late into the night, when they lay down in a plundered bean patch. "On the sixth day" they were nearly at the end of their tether. They dragged along slowly, some in boats, some in the woods, halting every now and then in despair of going farther, and then staggering on again, careless if they lived or died. Their lips were scummy with a sort of green froth, caused by their eating grass and the leaves of trees. In this condition they came at noon to a plantation, "where they found a barn full of maize." They beat the door in in a few minutes, "and fell to eating of it dry," till they were gorged with it. There was enough for all, and plenty left to take away, so they distributed a great quantity, "giving to every man a good allowance." With their knapsacks full of corn cobs they marched on again, in happier case than they had been in for several days. They soon came to "an ambuscade of Indians," but no Indians stayed within it to impeach their passage. On catching sight of the barricade many buccaneers flung away their corn cobs, with the merry improvidence of their kind, "with the sudden hopes they conceived of finding all things in abundance." But the larder was as bare as it had been in the other strongholds: it contained "neither Indians, nor victuals, nor anything else." On the other side of the river, however, there were many Indians, "a troop of a hundred," armed with bows, "who escaped away through the agility of their feet." Some of the pirates "leapt into the river" to attack these Indians, and to bring them into camp as prisoners. They did not speed in their attempt, but two or three of them were shot through the heart as they waded. Their corpses drifted downstream, to catch in the oars of the canoas, a horrible feast for the caymans. The others returned to their comrades on the right or northern bank of the river among the howls of the Indians: "Hey, you dogs, you, go on to the savannah; go on to the savannah, to find out what's in pickle for you." They could go no farther towards the savannah for that time, as they wished to cross the river, and did not care to do so, in the presence of an enemy, without due rest. They camped about big fires of wood, according to their custom, but they slept badly, for the hunger and toil had made them mutinous. The growling went up and down the camp till it came to Morgan's ears. Most of the pirates were disgusted with their admiral's "conduct," or leadership, and urged a speedy return to Port Royal. Others, no less disgusted, swore savagely that they would see the job through. Some, who had eaten more burnt leather than the others, "did laugh and joke at all their discourses," and so laid a last straw upon their burden. "In the meanwhile" the ruffian guide, "the rogue, thief, and assassin," who had merited to die upon a wheel, was a great comfort to them. "It would not be long," he kept saying, "before they met with folk, when they would come to their own, and forget these hungry times." So the night passed, round the red wood logs in the clearing, among the steaming jungle. Early in the morning of the seventh day they cleaned their arms, wiping away the rust and fungus which had grown upon them. "Every one discharged his pistol or musket, without bullet, to examine the security of their firelocks." They then loaded with ball, and crossed the river in the canoas. At midday they sighted Venta Cruz, the village, or little town, which Drake had taken. The smoke was going up to heaven from the Venta Cruz chimneys--a sight very cheering to these pirates. They had "great joy and hopes of finding people in the town ... and plenty of good cheer." They went on merrily, "making several arguments to one another [like the gravediggers in _Hamlet_] upon those external signs"--saying that there could be no smoke without a fire, and no fire in such a climate save to cook by, and that, therefore, Venta Cruz would be full of roast and boiled by the time they marched into its Plaza. Thus did they cheer the march and the heavy labour at the oars as far as the Venta Cruz jetty. As they entered Venta Cruz at the double, "all sweating and panting" with the hurry of their advance, they found the town deserted and in a blaze of fire. There was nothing eatable there, for the place had been swept clean, and then fired, by the retreating Spaniards. The only houses not alight were "the store-houses and stables belonging the King." These, being of stone, and Government property, had not been kindled. The storehouses and stables were, however, empty. Not a horse nor a mule nor an ass was in its stall. "They had not left behind them any beast whatsoever, either alive or dead." Venta Cruz was as profitless a booty as all the other stations. A few pariah dogs and cats were in the street, as was perhaps natural, even at that date, in a Central-American town. These were at once killed, and eaten half raw, "with great appetite." Before they were despatched, a pirate lighted on a treasure in a recess of the King's stables. He found there a stock of wine, some fifteen or sixteen jars, or demijohns, of good Peruvian wine, "and a leather sack full of bread." "But no sooner had they begun to drink of the said wine when they fell sick, almost every man." Several hundreds had had a cup or two of the drink, and these now judged themselves poisoned, and "irrecoverably lost." They were not poisoned, as it happened, but they had gone hungry for several days, living on "manifold sorts of trash." The sudden use of wine and bread caused a very natural sickness, such as comes to all who eat or drink greedily after a bout of starving. The sickness upset them for the day, so that the force remained there, at bivouac in the village, until the next morning. During the halt Morgan landed all his men ("though never so weak") from the canoas. He retained only one boat, which he hid, for use as an advice boat, "to carry intelligence" to those down the river. The rest of the canoas were sent downstream to the anchorage at Bueno Cedro, where the chatas lay moored under a guard. He gave strict orders to the rest of the pirates that they were not to leave the village save in companies of 100 together. "One party of English soldiers stickled not to contravene these commands, being tempted with the desire of finding victuals." While they straggled in the tilled ground outside Venta Cruz they were attacked "with great fury" by a number of Spaniards and Indians, "who snatched up" one of them, and carried him off. What was done to this one so snatched up we are not told. Probably he was tortured to give information of the pirates' strength, and then hanged up to a tree. On the eighth day, in the early morning, the sick men being recovered, Morgan thought they might proceed. He chose out an advance-guard of 200 of the strongest of his men, and sent them forward, with their matches lighted, to clear the road. The road was a very narrow one, but paved with cobble stones, and easy to the feet after the quagmires of the previous week. The men went forward at a good pace, beating the thickets on each side of the road. When they had marched some seven or eight miles they were shot at from some Indian ambush. A shower of arrows fell among them, but they could not see a trace of the enemy, till the Indians, who had shot the arrows, broke from cover and ran to a second fastness. A few stood firm, about a chief or cacique, "with full design to fight and defend themselves." They fought very gallantly for a few moments; but the pirates stormed their poor defence, and pistolled the cacique, losing eight men killed and ten wounded before the Indians broke. Shortly after this skirmish, the advance-guard left the wood, coming to open, green grass-land "full of variegated meadows." On a hill at a little distance they saw a number of Indians gathered, watching their advance. They sent out a troop to capture some of these, but the Indians escaped again, "through the agility of their feet," to reappear a little later with their howls of scorn: "Hey, you dogs, you English dogs, you. Get on to the savannah, you dogs, you cuckolds. On to the savannah, and see what's coming to you." "While these things passed the ten pirates that were wounded were dressed and plastered up." In a little while the pirates seized a hilltop facing a ridge of hill which shut them from the sight of Panama. In the valley between the two hills was a thick little wood, where Morgan looked to find an ambush. He sent his advance-guard of 200 men to search the thicket. As they entered, some Spaniards and Indians entered from the opposite side, but no powder was burnt, for the Spaniards stole away by a bypath, "and were seen no more." That night a drenching shower of rain fell, blotting out the landscape in a roaring grey film. It sent the pirates running hither and thither to find some shelter "to preserve their arms from being wet." Nearly all the huts and houses in the district had been fired by the Indians, but the pirates found a few lonely shepherds' shealings, big enough to hold all the weapons of the army and a few of the men. Those who could not find a place among the muskets were constrained to lie shivering in the open, enduring much hardship, for the rain did not slacken till dawn. At daybreak Morgan ordered them to march "while the fresh air of the morning lasted"; for they were now in open country, on the green savannah, where they would have no treetops to screen them from the terrible sun. During their morning march they saw a troop of Spanish horse, armed with spears, watching the advance at a safe distance, and retiring as the pirates drew nearer. Shortly after this they topped a steep rise, and lo! the smoke of Panama, and the blue Pacific, with her sky-line trembling gently, and a ship under sail, with five boats, going towards some emerald specks of islands. The clouds were being blown across the sky. The sun was glorious over all that glorious picture, over all the pasture, so green and fresh from the rain. There were the snowy Andes in the distance, their peaks sharply notched on the clear sky. Directly below them, in all her beauty, was the royal city of Panama, only hidden from sight by a roll of green savannah. Just at the foot of the rise, in a wealth of fat pasture, were numbers of grazing cattle, horses, and asses--the droves of the citizens. The pirates crept down, and shot a number of these, "chiefly asses," which they promptly flayed, while some of their number gathered firewood. As soon as the fires were lit the meat was blackened in the flame, and then greedily swallowed in "convenient pieces or gobbets." "They more resembled cannibals than Europeans at this banquet," for the blood ran down the beards of many, so hungry were they for meat after the long agony of the march. What they could not eat they packed in their satchels. After a long midday rest they fell in again for the march, sending fifty men ahead to take prisoners "if possibly they could," for in all the nine days' tramp they had taken no one to give them information of the Spaniards' strength. Towards sunset they saw a troop of Spaniards spying on them, who hallooed at them, but at such a distance that they could not distinguish what was said. As the sun set "they came the first time within sight of the highest steeple of Panama." This was a stirring cordial to the way-weary men limping down the savannah. The sight of the sea was not more cheering to the Greeks than the sight of the great gilt weathercock, shifting on the spire, to these haggard ruffians with the blood not yet dry upon their beards. They flung their hats into the air, and danced and shouted. All their trumpets shouted a levity, their drums beat, and their colours were displayed. They camped there, with songs and laughter, in sight of that steeple, "waiting with impatience," like the French knights in the play, for the slowly coming dawn. Their drums and trumpets made a merry music to their singing, and they caroused so noisily that a troop of horsemen rode out from Panama to see what was the matter. "They came almost within musket-shot of the army, being preceded by a trumpet that sounded marvellously well." They rode up "almost within musket-shot," but made no attempt to draw the pirates' fire. They "hallooed aloud to the Pirates, and threatened them," with "Hey, ye dogs, we shall meet ye," in the manner of the Indians. Seven or eight of them stayed "hovering thereabouts," riding along the camp until the day broke, to watch the pirates' movements. As soon as their main body reached the town, and reported what they had seen, the Governor ordered the city guns to open on the pirates' camp. The biggest guns at once began a heavy fire, from which one or two spent balls rolled slowly to the outposts without doing any damage. At the same time, a strong party took up a position to the rear of the camp, as though to cut off the retreat. Morgan placed his sentries, and sent his men to supper. They feasted merrily on their "pieces of bulls' and horses' flesh," and then lay down on the grass to smoke a pipe of tobacco before turning in. That last night's camp was peaceful and beautiful: the men were fed and near their quarry, the sun had dried their wet clothes; the night was fine, the stars shone, the Panama guns were harmless. They slept "with great repose and huge satisfaction," careless of the chance of battle, and anxious for the fight to begin. PANAMA Old Panama, the chief Spanish city in South America, with the one exception of Cartagena, was built along the sea-beach, fronting the bay of Panama, between the rivers Gallinero and Matasnillos. It was founded between 1518 and 1520 by Pedrarias Davila, a poor adventurer, who came to the Spanish Indies to supersede Balboa, having at that time "nothing but a sword and buckler." Davila gave it the name of an Indian village then standing on the site. The name means "abounding in fish." It soon became the chief commercial city in those parts, for all the gold and silver and precious merchandise of Peru and Chili were collected there for transport to Porto Bello. At the time of Morgan's attack upon it, it contained some 7000 houses, with a number of huts and hovels for the slaves. The population, counting these latter, may have been as great as 30,000. Many of the houses were of extreme beauty, being built of an aromatic rose wood, or "native cedar," ingeniously carved. Many were built of stone in a Moorish fashion, with projecting upper storeys. It had several stone monasteries and convents, and a great cathedral, dedicated to St Anastasius, which was the most glorious building in Spanish America. Its tower still stands as a landmark to sailors, visible many miles to sea. The stones of it are decorated with defaced carvings. Inside it, within the ruined walls, are palm and cedar trees, green and beautiful, over the roots of which swarm the scarlet-spotted coral snakes. The old town was never properly fortified. The isthmus was accounted a sufficient protection to it, and the defences were consequently weak. It was a town of merchants, who "thought only of becoming rich, and cared little for the public good." They lived a very stately life there, in houses hung with silk, stamped leather, and Spanish paintings, drinking Peruvian wines out of cups of gold and silver. The Genoese Company, a company of slavers trading with Guinea, had a "stately house" there, with a spacious slave market, where the blacks were sold over the morning glass. The Spanish King had some long stone stables in the town, tended by a number of slaves. Here the horses and mules for the recuas were stabled in long lines, like the stables of a cavalry barrack. Near these were the royal storehouses, built of stone, for the storage of the gold from the King's mines. There were also 200 merchants' warehouses, built in one storey, round which the slaves slept, under pent roofs. Outside the city was the beautiful green savannah, a rolling sea of grass, with islands of trees, cedar and palm, thickly tangled with the many-coloured bindweeds. To one side of it, an arm of the sea crept inland, to a small salt lagoon, which rippled at high tide, at the back of the city. The creek was bridged to allow the Porto Bello carriers to enter the town, and a small gatehouse or porter's lodge protected the way. The bridge is a neat stone arch, still standing. The streets ran east and west, "so that when the sun rises no one can walk in any of the streets, because there is no shade whatever; and this is felt very much as the heat is intense; and the sun is so prejudicial to health, that if a man is exposed to its rays for a few hours, he will be attacked with a fatal illness [pernicious fever], and this has happened to many." The port was bad for shipping, because of the great rise and fall of the tides. The bay is shallow, and ships could only come close in at high water. At low water the town looked out upon a strip of sand and a mile or more of very wet black mud. "At full moon, the waves frequently reach the houses and enter those on that side of the town." The roadstead afforded safe anchorage for the great ships coming up from Lima. Loading and unloading was performed by launches, at high water, on days when the surf was moderate. Small ships sailed close in at high tide, and beached themselves. To landward there were many gardens and farms, where the Spaniards had "planted many trees from Spain"--such as oranges, lemons, and figs. There were also plantain walks, and a great plenty of pines, guavas, onions, lettuces, and "alligator pears." Over the savannah roamed herds of fat cattle. On the seashore, "close to the houses of the city," were "quantities of very small mussels." The presence of these mussel beds determined the site of the town, "because the Spaniards felt themselves safe from hunger on account of these mussels." The town is all gone now, saving the cathedral tower, where the sweet Spanish bells once chimed, and the little stone bridge, worn by so many mules' hoofs. There is dense tropical forest over the site of it, though the foundations of several houses may be traced, and two or three walls still stand, with brilliant creepers covering up the carved work. It is not an easy place to reach, for it is some six miles from new Panama, and the way lies through such a tangle of creepers, over such swampy ground, poisonous with so many snakes, that it is little visited. It can be reached by sea on a fine day at high tide if the surf be not too boisterous. To landward of the present Panama there is a fine hill, called Mount Ançon. A little to the east of this there is a roll of high land, now a fruitful market-garden, or farm of orchards. This high land, some five or six miles from the ruins, is known as Buccaneers' Hill. It was from the summit of this high land that the pirates first saw the city steeple. Local tradition points out a few old Spanish guns of small size, brass and iron, at the near-by village of El Moro, as having been left by Morgan's men. At the island of Taboga, in the bay of Panama, they point with pride to a cave, the haunt of squid and crabs, as the hiding-place of Spanish treasure. In the blackness there, they say, are the golden sacramental vessels and jewelled vestments of the great church of St Anastasius. They were hidden there at the time of the raid, so effectually that they could never be recovered. We can learn of no other local tradition concerning the sack and burning. [Illustration: NEW PANAMA] What old Panama was like we do not know, for we can trace no picture of it. It was said to be the peer of Venice, "the painted city," at a time when Venice was yet the "incomparable Queene." It could hardly have been a second Venice, though its situation on that beautiful blue bay, with the Andes snowy in the distance, and the islands, like great green gems, to seaward, is lovely beyond words. It was filled with glorious houses, carved and scented, and beautiful with costly things. The merchants lived a languorous, luxurious life there, waited on by slaves, whom they could burn or torture at their pleasure. It was "the greatest mart for gold and silver in the whole world." There were pearl fisheries up and down the bay, yielding the finest of pearls; and "golden Potosi"--the tangible Eldorado, was not far off. The merchants of old Panama were, perhaps, as stately fellows and as sumptuous in their ways of life as any "on the Rialto." Their city is now a tangle of weeds and a heap of sun-cracked limestone; their market-place is a swamp; their haven is a stretch of surf-shaken mud, over which the pelicans go quarrelling for the bodies of fish. _Authorities._--Exquemeling's "History"; "The Bucaniers of America." Don Guzman's Account, printed in the "Voyages and Adventures of Captain Bartholomew Sharp." Cal. State Papers: West Indies and Colonial Series. "Present State of Jamaica," 1683. "New History of Jamaica," 1740. For my account of Chagres I am indebted to friends long resident on the isthmus, and to Dampier's and Wafer's Voyages. CHAPTER XII THE SACK OF PANAMA The burning of the city--Buccaneer excesses--An abortive mutiny--Home--Morgan's defection "On the tenth day, betimes in the morning," while the black and white monkeys were at their dawn song, or early screaming, the pirates fell in for the march, with their red flags flying and the drums and trumpets making a battle music. They set out gallantly towards the city by the road they had followed from Venta Cruz. Before they came under fire, one of the guides advised Morgan to attack from another point. The Spaniards, he said, had placed their heavy guns in position along the probable line of their advance. Every clump of trees near the trackway would be filled with Spanish sharpshooters, while they might expect earth-works or trenches nearer to the city. He advised Morgan to make a circuit, so as to approach the city through the forest--over the ground on which new Panama was built, a year or two later. Morgan, therefore, turned rather to the west of the highway, through some tropical woodland, where the going was very irksome. As they left the woodland, after a march of several hours, they again entered the savannah, at a distance of about a mile and a half from the town. The ground here was in sweeping folds, so that they had a little hill to climb before the town lay open to them, at the edge of the sea, to the eastward of the salt lagoon. When they topped this rise they saw before them "the forces of the people of Panama, extended in battle array," between them and the quarry. The Spanish strength on this occasion, according to the narrative, was as follows:--400 horse, of the finest horsemen in the world; twenty-four companies of foot, each company mustering a full 100 men; and "sixty Indians and some negroes." These last were "to drive two thousand wild bulls and cause them to run over the English camp, and thus, by breaking their files, put them into a total disorder and confusion." Morgan gives the numbers as 2100 foot and 600 horse, with "two Droves of Cattel of 1500 apiece," one for each flank or for the angles of the rear. The Spanish Governor, who had been "lately blooded 3 times for an Erysipelas," had not done as well as he could have wished in the preparation of an army of defence. He says that he had brought together 1400 coloured men, armed with "Carbins, Harquebusses, and Fowling Pieces," the muskets having been lost at Chagres. He gives the number of cavalry as 200, "mounted on the same tired Horses which had brought them thither." He admits that there were "50 cow-keepers" and an advance-guard of 300 foot. He had also five field-guns "covered with leather." To these forces may be added the townsfolk capable of bearing arms. These were not very numerous, for most of the inhabitants, as we have seen, "thought only of getting rich and cared little for the public good." They were now, however, in a cold sweat of fear at the sight of the ragged battalion trooping down from the hilltop. They had dug trenches for themselves within the city and had raised batteries to sweep the important streets. They had also mounted cannon on the little stone fort, or watchman's lodge, at the town end of the bridge across the creek. The sight of so many troops drawn out in order "surprised" the pirates "with great fear." The droves of "wild bulls" pasturing on the savannah grass were new to their experience; the cavalry they had met before in Cuba and did not fear, nor did they reckon themselves much worse than the Spanish foot; but they saw that the Spaniards outnumbered them by more than two to one, and they recognised the advantage they had in having a defensible city to fall back upon. The buccaneers were worn with the long march, and in poor case for fighting. They halted at this point, while Morgan formed them into a tertia, or division of three battalions or troops, of which he commanded the right wing. The sight of so many Spaniards halted below them set them grumbling in the ranks. "Yea few or none there were but wished themselves at home, or at least free from the obligation of that Engagement." There was, however, nothing else for it. A "wavering condition of Mind" could not help them. They had no alternative but "to fight resolutely, or die." They might not look to get quarter "from an Enemy against whom they had committed so many Cruelties." Morgan formed his men in order, and sent out skirmishers to annoy the Spanish troops, and to draw them from their position. A few shots were exchanged; but the Spaniards were not to be tempted, nor was the ground over which the skirmishers advanced at all suitable for moving troops. Morgan, therefore, edged his men away to the left, to a little hill beyond a dry gut or water-course--a position which the Spaniards could not attack from more than one side owing to the nature of the ground, which was boggy. Before they could form upon the lower slopes of the hill the Spanish horse rode softly forward, shouting: "Viva el Rey!" ("Long live the King"), with a great display of courage. "But the field being full of quaggs, and very soft under foot, they could not ply to and fro, and wheel about, as they desired." When they had come to a little beyond musket-shot "one Francisco Detarro," the colonel of the cavalry, called out to his troopers to charge home upon the English van. The horses at once broke into a gallop, and charged in "so furiously" that Morgan had to strengthen his ranks to receive them, "we having no Pikes" with which to gall the horses. As the men galloped forward, the line of buccaneers made ready to fire. Each musketeer put one knee to the ground, and touched off his piece, blasting the Spanish regiment almost out of action at the one discharge. The charge had been pressed so nearly home that the powder corns burnt the leading horses. Those who survived the shock of the volley swung off to the right to re-form, while the foot came on in their tracks "to try their Fortunes." They were received with such a terrible fire that they never came to handystrokes. They disputed the point for some hours, gradually falling into disorder as their losses became more and more heavy. The cavalry re-formed, and charged a second and a third time, with the result that after two hours' fighting "the Spanish Horse was ruined, and almost all killed." During the engagement of the foot, the Indians and negroes tried their stratagem of the bulls. They drove the herds round the flanking parties to the rear, and endeavoured to force them through the English lines. "But the greatest part of that wild cattle ran away, being frighted with the noise of the Battle. And some few, that broke through the English Companies, did no other harm than to tear the Colours in pieces; whereas the Buccaneers shooting them dead, left not one to Trouble them thereabouts." [Illustration: THE BATTLE OF PANAMA] Seeing the Spanish foot in some disorder, with many of their officers killed and few of the men firing, Morgan plied them with shot and sent his left wing forward as they fell back. The horse made one last gallant attempt to break the English line, but the attempt caused their complete destruction. At the same moment Morgan stormed down upon the foot with all his strength. The Spaniards fired "the Shot they had in their Muskets," and flung their weapons down, not caring to come to handystrokes. They ran "everyone which way he could run"--an utter rout of broken soldiers. The pirates were too fatigued to follow, but they picked them off as they ran till they were out of musket-shot. The buccaneers apparently then cleared away the stragglers, by pistolling them wherever they could find them. In this employment they beat through the shrubs by the sea, where many poor citizens had hidden themselves after the final routing of the troops. Some monks who were brought in to Captain Morgan were treated in the same manner, "for he, being deaf to their Cries, commanded them to be instantly pistolled," which order was obeyed there and then. A captain or colonel of troops was soon afterwards taken, and held to ransom after a strict examination. He told Morgan that he might look to have great trouble in winning the city, for the streets were all dug about with trenches and mounted with heavy brass guns. He added that the main entrance to the place was strongly fortified, and protected by a half company of fifty men with eight brass demi-cannon. Morgan now bade his men rest themselves and take food before pushing on to the town. He held a review of his army before he marched, and found that he had lost heavily--perhaps 200 men--while the Spaniards had lost about three times that number. "The Pirates," we read, "were nothing discouraged, seeing their number so much diminished but rather filled with greater pride than before." The comparative heaviness of the Spanish loss must have been very comforting. After they had rested and eaten they set out towards the town, "plighting their Oaths to one another in general, they would fight till never a man were left alive." A few prisoners, who seemed rich enough to be held to ransom, were marched with them under a guard of musketeers. Long before they trod the streets of Panama, they were under fire from the batteries, "some of which were charged with small pieces of iron, and others with musket-bullets." They lost men at every step; but their ranks kept steady, and street by street the town was won. The main agony of the fight took place between two and three o'clock, in the heat of the day, when the last Spanish gunners were cut to pieces at their guns. After the last gun was taken, a few Spaniards fired from street corners or from upper windows, but these were promptly pistolled or knocked on the head. The town was in the hands of the pirates by the time the bells chimed three that afternoon. As Morgan rested with his captains in the Plaza, after the heat of the battle, word was brought to him that the city was on fire in several places. Many have supposed that the town was fired by his orders, or by some careless and drunken musketeer of his. It was not the buccaneer custom to fire cities before they had sacked them, nor is it in the least likely that Morgan would have burnt so glorious a town before he had offered it to ransom. The Spaniards have always charged Morgan with the crime, but it seems more probable that the Spanish Governor was the guilty one. It is yet more probable that the fire was accidental. Most of the Spanish houses were of wood, and at that season of the year the timber would have been of extreme dryness, so that a lighted wad or match end might have caused the conflagration. At the time when the fire was first noticed, the pirates were raging through the town in search of plunder. They may well have flung away their lighted matches to gather up the spoils they found, and thus set fire to the place unwittingly. Hearing that the town was burning, Morgan caused his trumpeters to sound the assembly in the Plaza. When the pirates mustered, Morgan at once told off men to quench the fire "by blowing up houses by gunpowder, and pulling down others to stop its progress." He ordered strong guards to patrol the streets and to stand sentry without the city. Lastly, he forbade any member of the army "to dare to drink or taste any wine," giving out that it had all been poisoned beforehand by the Spaniards. He feared that his men would get drunk unless he frightened them by some such tale. With a drunken army rolling in the streets he could hardly hope to hold the town against an enemy so lightly beaten as the Spaniards. He also sent some sailors down to the beach to seize "a great boat which had stuck in the mud of the port." For all that the pirates could do, the fire spread rapidly, for the dry cedar beams burned furiously. The warehouses full of merchandise, such as silks, velvets, and fine linen, were not burned, but all the grand houses of the merchants, where the life had been so stately, were utterly gutted--all the Spanish pictures and coloured tapestries going up in a blaze. The splendid house of the Genoese, where so many black men had been bought and sold, was burned to the ground. The chief streets were ruined before midnight, and the fire was not wholly extinguished a month later when the pirates marched away. It continued to burn and smoulder long after they had gone. Having checked the riot among his army, Morgan sent a company of 150 men back to the garrison at the mouth of the Chagres with news of his success. Two other companies, of the same strength, he sent into the woods, "being all very stout soldiers and well-armed," giving them orders to bring in prisoners to hold to ransom. A third company was sent to sea under a Captain Searles to capture a Spanish galleon which had left the port, laden with gold and silver and the jewels of the churches, a day or two before. The rest of his men camped out of doors, in the green fields without the city, ready for any attack the Spaniards might make upon them. Search parties rummaged all day among the burning ruins, "especially in wells and cisterns," which yielded up many jewels and fine gold plates. The warehouses were sacked, and many pirates made themselves coats of silk and velvet to replace the rags they came in. It is probable that they committed many excesses in the heat of the first taking of the town, but one who was there has testified to the comparative gentleness of their comportment when "the heat of the blood" had cooled. "As to their women," he writes, "I know [not] or ever heard of anything offered beyond their wills; something I know was cruelly executed by Captain Collier [commander of one of the ships and one of the chief officers of the army] in killing a Frier in the field after quarter given; but for the Admiral he was noble enough to the vanquished enemy." In fact, the "Want of rest and victual Had made them chaste--they ravished very little" --which matter must be laid to their credit. A day or two was passed by the pirates in rummaging among the ruins, eating and drinking, and watching the Spaniards as they moved in the savannahs. Troops of Spaniards prowled there under arms, looking at their burning houses and the grey smoke ever going upward. They did not attack the pirates; they did not even fire at them from a distance. They were broken men without a leader, only thankful to be allowed to watch their blazing city. A number of them submitted to the armed men sent out to bring in prisoners. A number lingered in the near-by forests in great misery, living on grass and alligator eggs, the latter tasting "like half-rotten musk"--a poor diet after "pheasants" and Peruvian wine. Morgan soon received word from Chagres castle that all was very well with the garrison. Captain Norman, who had remained in charge, under oath to keep the "bloody flag," or red pirates' banner, flying, "had sent forth to sea two boats, to exercise piracy." These had hoisted Spanish colours, and set to sea, meeting with a fine Spanish merchantman that very same day. They chased this ship into the Chagres River, where "the poor Spaniards" were caught in a snare under the guns of the fort. Her cargo "consisted in victuals and provisions, that were all eatable things," unlike the victuals given usually to sailors. Such a prize came very opportunely, for the castle stores were running out, while the ship's crew proved useful in the bitter work of earth carrying then going on daily on the ramparts for the repairing of the palisado. Hearing that the Chagres garrison was in such good case, and so well able to exercise piracy without further help, Admiral Morgan resolved to make a longer stay in the ruins of old Panama. He arranged "to send forth daily parties of two hundred men" to roam the countryside, beating the thickets for prisoners, and the prisoners for gold. These parties ranged the country very thoroughly, gathering "in a short time, a huge quantity of riches, and no less number of prisoners." These poor creatures were shut up under a guard, to be brought out one by one for examination. If they would not confess where they had hidden their gold, nor where the gold of their neighbours lay, the pirates used them as they had used their prisoners at Porto Bello. "Woolding," burning with palm leaves, and racking out the arm-joints, seem to have been the most popular tortures. Many who had no gold were brutally ill treated, and then thrust through with a lance. Among these diversions Admiral Morgan fell in love with a beautiful Spanish lady, who appears to have been something of a paragon. The story is not worth repeating, nor does it read quite sincerely, but it is very probably true. John Exquemeling, who had no great love for Morgan, declares that he was an eye-witness of the love-making, "and could never have judged such constancy of mind and virtuous chastity to be found in the world." The fiery Welshman did not win the lady, but we gather from the evidence that he could have had the satisfaction of Matthew Arnold's American, who consoled himself, in similar circumstances, with saying: "Well, I guess I lowered her moral tone some." During the first week of their stay in Panama, the ship they had sent to sea returned with a booty of three small coast boats. Captain Searles had sailed her over Panama Bay to the beautiful island of Taboga, in order to fill fresh water and rob the inhabitants. Here they took "the boatswain and most of the crew"[17] of the _Trinity_, a Spanish galleon, "on board which were the Friers and Nuns, with all the old gentlemen and Matrons of the Town, to the number of 1500 souls, besides an immense Treasure in Silver and Gold." This galleon had seven small guns and ten or twelve muskets for her whole defence. She was without provisions, and desperately short of water, and she had "no more sails than the uppermost sails of the mainmast." Her captain was "an old and stout Spaniard, a native of Andalusia, in Spain, named Don Francisco de Peralta." She was "very richly laden with all the King's Plate and great quantity of riches of gold, pearl, jewels, and other most precious goods, of all the best and richest merchants of Panama. On board of this galleon were also the religious women, belonging to the nunnery of the said city, who had embarked with them all the ornaments of their church, consisting in great quantity of gold, plate, and other things of great value." This most royal prize was even then slowly dipping past Taboga, with her sea-sick holy folk praying heartily for the return of the water casks. She could have made no possible defence against the pirates had they gone at once in pursuit of her. But this the pirates did not do. In the village at Taboga there was a wealthy merchant's summer-house, with a cellar full of "several sorts of rich wines." A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, or as a bibulous wit once said to the present writer: "A bottle now is worth a bath of it to-morrow." Captain Searles and his men chose to drink a quiet bowl in the cabin rather than go sail the blue seas after the golden galleon. They made a rare brew of punch, of which they drank "logwood-cutters' measure," or a gallon and a half a man. After this they knocked out their tobacco pipes, and slept very pleasantly till the morning. They woke "repenting of their negligence" and "totally wearied of the vices and debaucheries aforesaid." With eyes red with drink they blinked at the empty punch-bowls. Then with savage "morning-tempers" they damned each other for a lot of lunkheads, and put to sea (in one of the Taboga prizes) "to pursue the said galleon" with all speed. However, by this time Don Peralta, a most gallant and resourceful captain, had brought the golden _Trinity_ to a place of safety. Had she been taken, she would have yielded a spoil hardly smaller than that taken by Cavendish in the _Madre de Dios_ or that which Anson won in the Manila galleon. Several waggon loads of golden chalices and candlesticks, with ropes of pearls, bags of emeralds and bezoars, and bar upon bar of silver in the crude, were thus bartered away for a sup of punch and a drunken chorus in the cabin. Poor Captain Searles never prospered after. He went logwood cutting a year or two later, and as a logwood cutter he arrived at the Rio Summasenta, where he careened his ship at a sandy key, since known as Searles Key. He was killed a few days afterwards, "in the western lagune" there, "by one of his Company as they were cutting Logwood together." That was the end of Captain Searles. [Footnote 17: They had come ashore to get water.] Morgan was very angry when he heard of the escape of the galleon. He at once remanned the four prizes, and sent them out, with orders to scour the seas till they found her. They cruised for more than a week, examining every creek and inlet, beating up many a sluggish river, under many leafy branches, but finding no trace of the _Trinity_. They gave up the chase at last, and rested at Taboga, where, perhaps, some "rich wines" were still in bin. They found a Payta ship at anchor at Taboga, "laden with cloth, soap, sugar and biscuit, with twenty thousand pieces of eight in ready money." She was "a reasonable good ship," but the cargo, saving the money, was not much to their taste. They took the best of it, and loaded it aboard her longboat, making the Taboga negroes act as stevedores. They then set the negroes aboard the prize, and carried her home to Panama, "some thing better satisfied of their voyage, yet withal much discontented they could not meet with the galleon." It was at Taboga, it seems, that the lady who so inflamed Sir Henry was made prisoner. At the end of three weeks of "woolding" and rummaging, Admiral Morgan began to prepare for the journey home. He sent his men to look for mules and horses on which to carry the plunder to the hidden canoas in the river. He learned at this juncture that a number of the pirates intended to leave him "by taking a ship that was in the port," and going to "rob upon the South Sea." They had made all things ready, it seems, having hidden "great quantity of provisions," powder, bullets, and water casks, with which to store their ship. They had even packed the good brass guns of the city, "where with they designed not only to equip the said vessel but also to fortify themselves and raise batteries in some island or other, which might serve them for a place of refuge." The scheme was fascinating, and a very golden life they would have had of it, those lucky mutineers, had not some spoil-sport come sneaking privily to Morgan with a tale of what was toward. They might have seized Cocos Island or Juan Fernandez, or "some other island," such as one of the Enchanted, or Gallapagos, Islands, where the goddesses were thought to dwell. That would have been a happier life than cutting logwood, up to the knees in mud, in some drowned savannah of Campeachy. However, just as the wine-bowl spoiled the project of the galleon, so did the treachery of a lickspittle, surely one of the meanest of created things, put an end to the mutiny. Morgan was not there to colonise Pacific Oceans, but to sack Panama. He had no intention of losing half his army for an imperial idea. He promptly discouraged the scheme by burning all the boats in the roads. The ship or chata, which would have been the flagship of the mutineers, was dismasted, and the masts and rigging were added to the general bonfire. All the brass cannon they had taken were nailed and spiked. Wooden bars were driven down their muzzles as firmly as possible, and the wood was then watered to make it swell. There was then no more talk of going a-cruising to found republics. Morgan thought it wise to leave Panama as soon as possible, before a second heresy arose among his merry men. He had heard that the Governor of Panama was busily laying ambuscades "in the way by which he ought to pass at his return." He, therefore, picked out a strong company of men, including many of the mutineers, and sent them out into the woods to find out the truth of the matter. They found that the report was false, for a few Spanish prisoners, whom they captured, were able to tell them how the scheme had failed. The Governor, it was true, had planned to make "some opposition by the way," but none of the men remaining with him would consent to "undertake any such enterprize." With this news the troops marched back to Panama. While they were away, the poor prisoners made every effort to raise money for their ransoms, but many were unable to raise enough to satisfy their captors. Morgan had no wish to wait till they could gather more, for by this time, no doubt, he had satisfied himself that he had bled the country of all the gold it contained. Nor did he care to wait till the Spaniards had plucked up heart, and planted some musketeers along the banks of the Chagres. He had horses and mules enough to carry the enormous heaps of plunder to the river. It was plainly foolish to stay longer, for at any time a force might attack him (by sea) from Lima or (by land) from Porto Bello. He, therefore, gave the word for the army to prepare to march. He passed his last evening in Panama (as we suppose) with the female paragon from Taboga. The army had one last debauch over the punch-bowls round the camp fires, and then fell in to muster, thinking rapturously of the inns and brothels which waited for their custom at Port Royal. [Illustration: SIR HENRY MORGAN] "On the 24th of February, of the year 1671, Captain Morgan departed from the city of Panama, or rather from the place where the said city of Panama did stand; of the spoils whereof he carried with him one hundred and seventy-five beasts of carriage, laden with silver, gold and other precious things, besides six hundred prisoners more or less, between men, women, children and slaves." Thus they marched out of the ruined capital, over the green savannah, towards the river, where a halt was called to order the army for the march to Venta Cruz. A troop of picked marksmen was sent ahead to act as a scouting party; the rest of the company marched in hollow square, with the prisoners in the hollow. In this array they set forward towards Venta Cruz to the sound of drums and trumpets, amid "lamentations, cries, shrieks and doleful sighs" from the wretched women and children. Most of these poor creatures were fainting with thirst and hunger, for it had been Morgan's policy to starve them, in order "to excite them more earnestly to seek for money wherewith to ransom themselves." "Many of the women," says the narrative, "begged of Captain Morgan upon their knees, with infinite sighs and tears, he would permit them to return to Panama, there to live in company of their dear husbands and children, in little huts of straw which they would erect, seeing they had no houses until the rebuilding of the city. But his answer was: he came not thither to hear lamentations and cries, but rather to seek money. Therefore they ought to seek out for that in the first place, wherever it were to be had, and bring it to him, otherwise he would assuredly transport them all to such places whither they cared not to go." With this answer they had to remain content, as they lay in camp, under strict guard, on the banks of the Rio Grande. Early the next morning, "when the march began," "those lamentable cries and shrieks were renewed, in so much as it would have caused compassion in the hardest heart to hear them. But Captain Morgan, a man little given to mercy, was not moved therewith in the least." They marched in the same order as before, but on this day, we read, the Spaniards "were punched and thrust in their backs and sides, with the blunt end of [the pirates'] arms, to make them march the faster." The "beautiful and virtuous lady" "was led prisoner by herself, between two Pirates," both of whom, no doubt, wished the other dear charmer away. She, poor lady, was crying out that she had asked two monks to fetch her ransom from a certain hiding-place. They had taken the money, she cried, according to her instruction, but they had used it to ransom certain "of their own and particular friends." This evil deed "was discovered by a slave, who brought a letter to the said lady." In time, her words were reported to Captain Morgan, who held a court of inquiry there and then, to probe into the truth of the matter. The monks made no denial of the fact, "though under some frivolous excuses, of having diverted the money but for a day or two, within which time they expected more sums to repay it." The reply angered Morgan into releasing the poor woman, "detaining the said religious men as prisoners in her place," and "using them according to the deserts of their incompassionate intrigues." Probably they were forced to run the gauntlet between two rows of pirates armed with withes of bejuco. A day's hard marching brought them to the ruins of Venta Cruz, on the banks of the river, where the canoas lay waiting for them under a merry boat guard. The army rested at Venta Cruz for three days, while maize and rice were collected for the victualling of the boats. Many prisoners succeeded in raising their ransoms during this three days' halt. Those who failed, were carried down the river to San Lorenzo. On the 5th of March the plunder was safely shipped, the army went aboard the canoas, the prisoners (including some from Venta Cruz) were thrust into the bottoms of the boats, and the homeward voyage began. The two monks who had embezzled the lady's money escaped translation at this time, being ransomed by their friends before the sailing of the fleet. The canoas dropped down the river swiftly, with songs and cheers from the pirates, till they came to some opening in the woods, half way across the isthmus, where the banks were free enough from brush to allow them to camp. Here they mustered in order, as though for a review, each man in his place with his sword and firelock. Here Captain Morgan caused each man to raise his right hand, and to swear solemnly that he had concealed nothing privately, "even not so much as the value of sixpence." Captain Morgan, a Welshman by birth, "having had some experience that those lewd fellows would not much stickle to swear falsely in points of interest, commanded every one to be searched very strictly, both in their clothes and satchels and everywhere it might be presumed they had reserved anything. Yea, to the intent this order might not be ill-taken by his companions, he permitted himself to be searched, even to the very soles of his shoes." One man out of each company was chosen to act as searcher to his fellows, and a very strict search was made. "The French Pirates were not well satisfied with this new custom of searching," but there were not very many of them, and "they were forced to submit to it." When the search was over, they re-embarked, and soon afterwards the current caught them, and spun them down swiftly to the lion-like rock at the river's mouth. They came safely to moorings below San Lorenzo on the 9th of March. They found that most of the wounded they had left there had died of fever, but the rest of the garrison was in good case, having "exercised piracy" with profit all the time the army had been plundering. There was "joy, and a full punch-bowl," in the castle rooms that night. Morgan now sent his Santa Katalina prisoners to Porto Bello in "a great boat," demanding a ransom for Chagres castle, "threatening otherwise" to blast it to pieces. "Those of Porto Bello," who needed all their money to repair their own walls, replied that "They would not give one farthing towards the ransom of the said castle, and that the English might do with it as they pleased"--a sufficiently bold answer, which sealed the fate of San Lorenzo. When the answer came, the men were again mustered, and "the dividend was made of all the spoil they had purchased in that voyage." Each man received his due share, "or rather what part thereof Captain Morgan was pleased to give." There was general dissatisfaction with "his proceedings in this particular," and many shaggy ruffians "feared not to tell him openly" that he had "reserved the best jewels to himself." They "judged it impossible" that the share per man should be but a paltry 200 pieces of eight, or £50, after "so many valuable booties and robberies." Why, they said, it is less than we won at Porto Bello. Many swore fiercely that, if they had known how small the booty was to prove, they would have seen Henry Morgan in gaol before they 'listed. Why they did not tear him piecemeal, and heave him into the sea, must remain a mystery. They contented themselves with damning him to his face for a rogue and a thief, at the same time praying that a red-hot hell might be his everlasting portion. "But Captain Morgan," says the narrative, "was deaf to all these, and many other complaints of this kind, having designed in his mind to cheat them of as much as he could." Deaf though he was, and callous, he had a fine regard for his own skin. The oaths and curses which were shouted after him as he walked in the castle made him "to fear the consequence thereof." He "thought it unsafe to remain any longer time at Chagre," so he planned a master stroke to defeat his enemies. The castle guns were dismounted, and hoisted aboard his flagship. The castle walls were then blasted into pieces, the lower batteries thrown down, and the houses burnt. When these things had been done "he went secretly on board his own ship, without giving any notice of his departure to his companions, nor calling any council, as he used to do. Thus he set sail, and put out to sea, not bidding anybody adieu, being only followed by three or four vessels of the fleet." The captains of these ships, it was believed, had shared with him in the concealed plunder. There was great fury among the buccaneers when Morgan's escape was known. The French pirates were for putting to sea in pursuit, to blow his ships out of the water, but Morgan had been sufficiently astute to escape in the provision ships. The pirates left behind had not food enough to stock their ships, and could not put to sea till more had been gathered. While they cursed and raged at Chagres, Morgan sailed slowly to Port Royal, where he furled his sails, and dropped anchor, after a highly profitable cruise. The Governor received his percentage of the profits, and Morgan at once began to levy recruits for the settling of Santa Katalina. As for his men, they stayed for some days in considerable misery at San Lorenzo. They then set sail in companies, some for one place, some for another, hoping to find food enough to bring them home. Some went to the eastward, raiding the coast for food, and snapping up small coasting vessels. Some went to the bay of Campeachy to cut logwood and to drink rum punch. Others went along the Costa Rican coast to find turtle to salt for victuals, and to careen their barnacled and wormy ships. One strong company went to Cuba, where they sacked the Town of the Keys, and won a good booty. Most of them came home, in time, but to those who returned that home-coming was bitter. Shortly after Morgan's return to Jamaica, a new Governor arrived from England with orders to suppress the gangs of privateers. He had instructions to proclaim a general pardon for all those buccaneers who cared to take advantage of the proclamation within a given time. Those who wished to leave "their naughty way of life" were to be encouraged by grants of land (thirty-five acres apiece), so that they might not starve when they forsook piracy. But this generous offer was merely a lure or bait to bring the buccaneers to port, in order that the Governor might mulct them "the tenths and fifteenths of their booty as the dues of the Crown for granting them commissions." The news of the intended taxation spread abroad among the pirates. They heard, too, that in future they would find no rest in Port Royal; for this new Governor was earnest and diligent in his governorship. They, therefore, kept away from Port Royal, and made Tortuga their rendezvous, gradually allying themselves with the French buccaneers, who had their stronghold there. Some of them, who returned to Port Royal, were brought before the magistrate, and hanged as pirates. Their old captain, Henry Morgan, left his former way of life, and soon afterwards become Governor of Jamaica. He was so very zealous in "discouraging" the buccaneers that the profession gradually lost its standing. The best of its members took to logwood cutting or to planting; the worst kept the seas, like water-Ishmaelites, plundering the ships of all nations save their own. They haunted Tortuga, the keys of Cuba, the creeks and inlets of the coast, and the bays at the western end of Jamaica. They were able to do a great deal of mischief; for there were many of them, and the English Colonial governors could not spare many men-of-war to police the seas. Often the pirates combined and made descents upon the coast as in the past. Henry Morgan's defection did but drive them from their own pleasant haunt, Port Royal. The "free-trade" of buccaneering throve as it had always thriven. But about the time of Morgan's consulship we read of British men-of-war helping to discourage the trade, and thenceforward the buccaneers were without the support of the Colonial Government. Those who sailed the seas after Morgan's time were public enemies, sailing under the shadow of the gallows. _Authorities._--W. Nelson: "Five Years at Panama." P. Mimande: "Souvenirs d'un Echappé de Panama." A. Reclus: "Panama et Darien." A. Radford: "Jottings on Panama." J. de Acosta: "Voyages." S. de Champlain: "Narrative." Cieça de Leon: "Travels." Exquemeling: "Bucaniers of America." Don Perez de la Guzman: "Account of the Sack of Panama." I am also indebted to friends long resident in the present city of Panama. CHAPTER XIII CAPTAIN DAMPIER Campeachy--Logwood cutting--The march to Santa Maria William Dampier, a Somersetshire man, who had a taste for roving, went to the West Indies for the first time in 1674, about three years after the sack of Panama. He was "then about twenty-two years old," with several years of sea-service behind him. He had been to the north and to the east, and had smelt powder in a King's ship during the Dutch wars. He came to the West Indies to manage a plantation, working his way "as a Seaman" aboard the ship of one Captain Kent. Planting sugar or cocoa on Sixteen-Mile Walk in an island so full of jolly sinners proved to be but dull work. Dampier tried it for some weeks, and then slipped away to sea with a Port Royal trader, who plied about the coast, fetching the planters' goods to town, and carrying European things, such as cloth, iron, powder, or the like, to the planters' jetties along the coast. That was a more pleasant life, for it took the young man all round the island, to quiet plantings where old buccaneers were at work. These were kindly fellows, always ready for a yarn with the shipmen who brought their goods from Port Royal. They treated the young man well, giving him yams, plantains, and sweet potatoes, with leave to wander through their houses. "But after six or seven Months" Dampier "left that Employ," for he had heard strange tales of the logwood cutters in Campeachy Bay, and longed to see something of them. He, therefore, slipped aboard a small Jamaica vessel which was going to the bay "to load logwood," with two other ships in company. The cargo of his ship "was rum and sugar; a very good Commodity for the Log-wood Cutters, who were then about 250 Men, most English." When they anchored off One Bush Key, by the oyster banks and "low Mangrovy Land," these lumbermen came aboard for drink, buying rum by the gallon or firkin, besides some which had been brewed into punch. They stayed aboard, drinking, till the casks gave out, firing off their small-arms with every health, and making a dreadful racket in that still lagoon, where the silence was seldom so violently broken. The logwood began to come aboard a day or two later; and Dampier sometimes went ashore with the boat for it, on which occasions he visited the huts of the woodmen, and ate some merry meals with them, "with Pork and Pease, or Beef and Dough-boys," not to mention "Drams or Punch." On the voyage home he was chased by Spaniards, who "fired a Gun" at the ketch, but could not fetch her alongside. It was an easy life aboard that little ketch; for every morning they fished for their suppers, and at no time was any work done unless the ship was actually in peril of wreck. While they were lazying slowly eastward, "tumbling like an Egg-shell in the Sea," her captain ran her on the Alcranes, a collection of sandy little islands, where they stayed for some days before they found a passage out to sea. They spent the days in fishing, or flinging pebbles at the rats, or killing boobies, and then set sail again, arriving after some days' sailing, at the Isles of Pines. Here they landed to fill fresh water at the brooks, among the sprays of red mangrove, which grew thickly at the water's edge. They also took ashore their "two bad Fowling-pieces," with intent to kill a wild hog or cow, being then in want of food, for the ship's provisions had given out. They did not kill any meat for all their hunting, nor did they catch much fish. Their ill success tempted the sailors to make for the Cuban keys, where they thought they would find great abundance, "either Fish or Flesh." The Cuban keys were favourite haunts of the buccaneers, but it was dangerous for a small ship like the ketch to venture in among them. On Cape Corientes there was a Spanish garrison of forty soldiers, chiefly mulattoes and caribs, who owned a swift periagua, fitted with oars and sails. They kept sentinels always upon the Cape, and whenever a ship hove in sight they would "launch out," and seize her, and cut the throats of all on board, "for fear of telling Tales." Fear of this garrison, and the prudent suggestion of Dampier--that "it was as probable that we might get as little Food in the South Keys, as we did at Pines, where, though there was plenty of Beefs and Hogs, yet we could not to tell how to get any--" at last prevailed upon the seamen to try for Jamaica. They were without food of any kind, save a little flour from the bottoms of the casks, and two "Barrels of Beef," which they had taken west to sell, "but 'twas so bad that none would buy it." On a porridge of this meat, chopped up with mouldy flour, they contrived to keep alive, "jogging on" towards the east till they made Jamaica. They arrived off Blewfield's Point thirteen weeks after leaving Campeachy, and, as Dampier says: "I think never any vessel before nor since made such Traverses ... as we did.... We got as much Experience as if we had been sent out on a Design." However, they dropped their anchor "at Nigrill" "about three a Clock in the Afternoon," and sent in the boat for fruit and poultry. One or two sea-captains, whose ketches were at anchor there, came out to welcome the new arrival. In the little "Cabbin," where the lamp swung in gimbals, the sailors "were very busie, going to drink a Bowl of Punch, ... after our long Fatigue and Fasting." The thirsty sea-captains, bronzed by the sun, came stumping down the ladder to bear a hand. One captain, "Mr John Hooker," said that he was under "Oath to drink but three Draughts of Strong Liquor a Day." The bowl, which had not been touched, lay with him, with six quarts of good rum punch inside it. This Mr Hooker, "putting the Bowl to his Head, turn'd it off at one Draught"--he being under oath, and, doubtless, thirsty. "And so, making himself drunk, disappointed us of our Expectations, till we made another Bowl." Thus with good cheer did they recruit themselves in that hot climate after long sailing of the seas. Dampier passed the next few weeks in Port Royal, thinking of the jolly life at One Bush Key, and of the little huts, so snugly thatched, and of the camp fires, when the embers glowed so redly at night before the moon rose. The thought of the logwood cutters passing to and fro about those camp fires, to the brandy barrel or the smoking barbecue, was pleasant to him. He felt inclined "to spend some Time at the Logwood Trade," much as a young gentleman of that age would have spent "some Time" on the grand tour with a tutor. He had a little gold laid by, so that he was able to lay in a stock of necessaries for the trade--such as "Hatchets, Axes, Long Knives, Saws, Wedges, etc., a Pavillion to sleep in, a Gun with Powder and Shot, etc." When all was ready, he went aboard a New England ship, and sailed for Campeachy, where he settled "in the West Creek of the West Lagoon" with some old logwood cutters who knew the trade. Logwood cutting was then a very profitable business, for the wood fetched from £70 to £100 a ton in the European markets. The wood is very dense, and so heavy that it sinks in water. The work of cutting it, and bringing it to the ships, in the rough Campeachy country, where there were no roads, was very hard. The logwood cutters were, therefore, men of muscle, fond of violent work. Nearly all of them in Dampier's time were buccaneers who had lost their old trade. They were "sturdy, strong Fellows," able to carry "Burthens of three or four hundred Weight," and "contented to labour very hard." Their hands and arms were always dyed a fine scarlet with the continuous rubbing of the wood, and their clothes always smelt of the little yellow logwood flowers, which smell very sweet and strong, at most seasons of the year. The life lived by the lumbermen was wild, rough, and merry. They had each of them a tent, or a strongly thatched hut, to live in, and most of them had an Indian woman or a negress to cook their food. Some of them had white wives, which they bought at Jamaica for about thirty pounds apiece, or five pounds more than the cost of a black woman. As a rule, they lived close to the lips of the creeks, "for the benefit of the Sea-Breezes," in little villages of twenty or thirty together. They slept in hammocks, or in Indian cots, raised some three or four feet from the ground, to allow for any sudden flood which the heavy rains might raise. They cooked their food on a sort of barbecue strewn with earth. For chairs they used logs of wood or stout rails supported on crutches. On the Saturday in each week they left their saws and axes and tramped out into the woods to kill beef for the following week. In the wet seasons, when the savannahs were flooded, they hunted the cattle in canoas by rowing near to the higher grass-lands where the beasts were at graze. Sometimes a wounded steer would charge the canoa, and spill the huntsmen in the water, where the alligators nipped them. In the dry months, the hunters went on foot. When they killed a steer they cut the body into four, flung away the bones, and cut a big hole in each quarter. Each of the four men of the hunting party then thrust his head through the hole in one of the quarters, and put "it on like a Frock," and so trudged home. If the sun were hot, and the beef heavy, the wearer cut some off, and flung it away. This weekly hunting was "a Diversion pleasant enough" after the five days' hacking at the red wood near the lagoon-banks. The meat, when brought to camp, was boucanned or jerked--that is, dried crisp in the sun. A quarter of a steer a man was the week's meat allowance. If a man wanted fish or game, in addition, he had to obtain it for himself. This diet was supplemented by the local fruits, and by stores purchased from the ships--such as dried pease, or flour to make doughboys. Men who worked hard under a tropical sun, in woods sometimes flooded to a depth of two feet, could hardly be expected to take a pride in their personal appearance. One little vanity they had, and apparently one only--they were fond of perfumes. They used to kill the alligator for his musk-sacs, which they thought "as good civet as any in the world." Each logwood cutter carried a musk-sac in his hat to diffuse scent about him, "sweet as Arabian winds when fruits are ripe," wheresoever his business led him. The logwood cutters usually formed into little companies of from four to twelve men each. The actual "cutters" had less to do than the other members, for they merely felled the trees. Others sawed and hacked the tree trunks into logs. The boss, or chief man in the gang, then chipped away the white sappy rind surrounding the scarlet heart with its crystals of brilliant red. If the tree were very big (and some were six feet round) they split the bole by gunpowder. The red hearts alone were exported, as it is the scarlet crystal (which dries to a dull black after cutting) which gives the wood its value in dyeing. When the timber had been properly cut and trimmed it was dragged to the water's edge, and stacked there ready for the merchants. The chips burnt very well, "making a clear strong fire, and very lasting," in which the rovers used to harden "the Steels of their Fire Arms when they were faulty." When a ship arrived at One Bush Key the logwood cutters went aboard her for rum and sugar. It was the custom for the ship's captain to give them free drinks on the day of his arrival, "and every Man will pay honestly for what he drinks afterwards." If the captain did not set the rum punch flowing with sufficient liberality they would "pay him with their worst Wood," and "commonly" they "had a stock of such" ready for the niggard when he came. Often, indeed, they would give such a one a load of hollow logs "filled with dirt in the middle, and both ends plugg'd up with a piece of the same." But if the captain commanding were "true steel, an old bold blade, one of the old buccaneers, a hearty brave toss-pot, a trump, a true twopenny"--why, then, they would spend thirty or forty pounds apiece in a drinking bout aboard his ship, "carousing and firing of Guns three or four days together." They were a careless company, concerned rather in "the squandering of life away" than in its preservation. Drink and song, and the firing of guns, and a week's work chipping blood-wood, and then another drunkenness, was the story of their life there. Any "sober men" who came thither were soon "debauched" by "the old Standards," and took to "Wickedness" and "careless Rioting." Those who found the work too hard used to go hunting in the woods. Often enough they marched to the woods in companies, to sack the Indian villages, to bring away women for their solace, and men slaves to sell at Jamaica. They also robbed the Indians' huts of honey, cocoa, and maize, but then the Indians were "very melancholy and thoughtful" and plainly designed by God as game for logwood cutters. In the end the Spaniards fell upon the logwood men and carried them away to Mexico and Vera Cruz, sending some to the silver mines, and selling the others to tradesmen. As slaves they passed the next few years, till they escaped to the coast. One of those who escaped told how he saw a Captain Buckenham, once a famous man at those old drinking bouts, and owner of a sugar ship, working as a slave in the city of Mexico. "He saw Captain Buckenham, with a Log chained to his Leg, and a Basket at his Back, crying Bread about the Streets for a Baker his Master." In this society of logwood cutters Dampier served a brief apprenticeship. He must have heard many strange tales, and jolly songs, around the camp fires of his mates, but none of them, apparently, were fit to print. He went hunting cattle, and got himself "bushed," or marooned--that is, lost--and had a narrow escape from dying in the woods. He helped at the cutting and trimming of the red wood, and at the curing of the hides of the slaughtered steers. When ships arrived he took his sup of rum, and fired his pistol, with the best of them. Had he stayed there any length of time he would have become a master logwood merchant, and so "gotten an Estate"; but luck was against him. In June 1676, when he was recovering from a guinea-worm, a creature which nests in one's ankle, and causes great torment, a storm, or "South," reduced the logwood cutters of those parts to misery. The South was "long foretold," by the coming in of many sea-birds to the shore's shelter, but the lumbermen "believed it was a certain Token of the Arrival of Ships," and took no precautions against tempest. Two days later the wind broke upon them furiously, scattering their huts like scraps of paper. The creek began to rise "faster than I ever saw it do in the greatest Spring Tide," so that, by noon, the poor wretches, huddled as they were in a hut, without fire, were fain to make ready a canoa to save themselves from drowning. The trees in the woods were torn up by the roots, "and tumbled down strangely across each other." The ships in the creek were blown from their anchors. Two of them were driven off to sea, dipping their bows clean under, and making shocking weather of it. One of them was lost in the bay, being whelmed by a green sea. The storm destroyed all the tools and provisions of the lumbermen, and left Dampier destitute. His illness, with the poisonous worm in his leg, had kept him from work for some weeks, so that he had no cords of red wood ready cut, "as the old Standards had," to buy him new tools and new stores. Many of the men were in the same case, so they agreed with the captains of two pirate ketches which called at the creek at that time, to go a cruise to the west to seek their fortunes. They cruised up and down the bay "and made many Descents into the country," "where we got Indian Corn to eat with the Beef, and other Flesh, that we got by the way." They also attacked Alvarado, a little, protected city on the river of that name, but they lost heavily in the attack. Of the sixty pirates engaged, ten or eleven were killed or desperately wounded. The fort was not surrendered for four or five hours, by which time the citizens had put their treasure into boats, and rowed it upstream to safety. It was dark by the time the pirates won the fort, so that pursuit was out of the question. They rested there that night, and spent the next day foraging. They killed and salted a number of beeves, and routed out much salt fish and Indian corn, "as much as we could stow away." They also took a number of poultry, which the Spaniards were fattening in coops; and nearly a hundred tame parrots, "yellow and red," which "would prate very prettily." In short they heaped their decks with hen-coops, parrot-cages, quarters of beef, casks of salt fish, and baskets full of maize. In this state, the ships lay at anchor, with their men loafing on deck with their tobacco, bidding the "yellow and red" parrots to say "Damn," or "Pretty Polly," or other ribaldry. But before any parrot could have lost his Spanish accent, the pirates were called from their lessons by the sight of seven Spanish warships, under all sail, coming up to the river-bar from La Vera Cruz. Their ports were up, and their guns were run out, and they were not a mile away when the pirates first saw them. As it happened, the River Alvarado was full of water, so that these great vessels "could scarce stem the current." This piece of luck saved the pirates, for it gave them time to make sail, and to clear the bar before the Spaniards entered the river. As they dropped down the stream, they hove the clutter from the decks. Many a Pretty Polly there quenched her blasphemy in water, and many a lump of beef went to the mud to gorge the alligators. The litter was all overboard, and the men stripped to fight the guns, by the time the tide had swept them over the bar. At this moment they came within range of the Spanish flagship, the _Toro_, of ten guns and 100 men. She was to windward of them, and perilously close aboard, and her guns sent some cannon-balls into them, without doing any serious harm. Dampier was in the leading ship, which stood to the eastward, followed by her consort, as soon as she was over the bar. After her came the _Toro_, followed by a ship of four guns, and by five smaller vessels manned with musketeers, "and the Vessels barricadoed round with Bull-hides Breast high." The _Toro_ ranged up on the quarter of Dampier's ship, "designing to board" her. The pirates dragged their cannon aft, and fired at her repeatedly, "in hopes to have lamed either Mast or Yard." As they failed to carry away her spars, they waited till "she was shearing aboard," when they rammed the helm hard up, "gave her a good Volley," and wore ship. As soon as she was round on the other tack, she stood to the westward, passing down the Spanish line under a heavy fire. The _Toro_ held to her course, after the second pirate ship, with the six ships of the fleet following in her wake. The second pirate ship was much galled by the fleet's fire, and ran great risk of being taken. Dampier's ship held to the westward, till she was about a mile to windward of the other ships. She then tacked, and ran down to assist her consort, "who was hard put to it." As she ran down, she opened fire on the _Toro_, "who fell off, and shook her ears," edging in to the shore, to escape, with her fleet after her. They made no fight of it, but tacked and hauled to the wind "and stood away for Alvarado." The pirates were very glad to see the last of them; "and we, glad of the Deliverance, went away to the Eastward." On the way, they visited all the sandy bays of the coast to look for "munjack," "a sort of Pitch or Bitumen which we find in Lumps." When corrected with oil or tallow this natural pitch served very well for the paying of the seams "both of Ships and Canoas." After this adventure, Dampier returned to the lumber camp, and passed about a year there, cutting wood. Then, for some reason, he determined to leave the Indies, and to visit England; and though he had planned to return to Campeachy, after he had been home, he never did so. It seems that he was afraid of living in that undefended place, among those drunken mates of his. They were at all times at the mercy of a Spanish man-of-war, and Dampier "always feared" that a Spanish prison would be his lot if he stayed there. It was the lot of his imprudent mates, "the old Standards," a few months after he had sailed for the Thames. After a short stay in England, Dampier sailed for Jamaica, with a general cargo. He sold his goods at Port Royal, but did not follow his original plan of buying rum and sugar, and going west as a logwood merchant. About Christmas 1679 he bought a small estate in Dorsetshire, "of one whose Title to it" he was "well assured of." He was ready to sail for England, to take charge of this estate, and to settle down as a farmer, when he met "one Mr Hobby," at a tavern, who asked him to go "a short trading voyage to the Country of the Moskito's." Dampier, who was a little short of gold at the moment, was very willing to fill his purse before sailing north. He therefore consented to go with Mr Hobby, whose ship was then ready for the sea. He "went on board Mr Hobby," and a fair wind blew them clear of Port Royal. A day or two of easy sailing brought them to Negril Bay, "at the West End of Jamaica," where Dampier had anchored before, when the valorous captain drained the punch-bowl. The bay was full of shipping, for Captains Coxon, Sawkins, Sharp, and other buccaneers, were lying there filling their water casks. They had the red wheft flying, for they were bound on the account, to raid the Main. The boats alongside them were full of meat and barrels. Mr Hobby's men did not wait to learn more than the fact that the ships were going cruising. They dumped their chests into the dinghy, and rowed aboard of them, and 'listed themselves among the sunburnt ruffians who were hoisting out the water breakers. Dampier and Mr Hobby were left alone on their ship, within hearing of the buccaneers, who sang, and danced to the fiddle, and clinked the cannikin, till the moon had set. For three or four days they stayed there, hearing the merriment of the rovers, but at the end of the fourth day Dampier wearied of Mr Hobby, and joined the buccaneers, who were glad to have him. A day or two after Christmas 1679 they got their anchors and set sail. They shaped their course for Porto Bello, which had recovered something of its old wealth and beauty, in the years of peace it had enjoyed since Morgan sacked it. They landed 200 men to the eastward of the town, "at such a distance" that the march "occupied them three nights." During the day they lay in ambush in the woods. As they "came to the town" a negro saw them, and ran to set the bells ringing, to call out the troops. The buccaneers followed him so closely that the town was theirs before the troops could muster. They stayed there forty-eight hours gathering plunder, and then marched back to their ships staggering under a great weight of gold. They shared thirty or forty pounds a man from this raid. Afterwards they harried the coast, east and west, and made many rich captures. Sawkins, it seems, was particularly lucky, for he made a haul of 1000 chests of indigo. Warrants were out for all these pirates, and had they been taken they would most surely have been hanged. After these adventures, the squadron made for "a place called Boco del Toro," "an opening between two islands between Chagres and Veragua," where "the general rendezvous of the fleet" had been arranged. The ships anchored here, with one or two new-comers, including a French ship commanded by a Captain Bournano, who had been raiding on the isthmus, "near the South Sea," but a few days before. At the council aboard Captain Sawkins' ship, it was given out, to all the assembled buccaneers, that the Spaniards had made peace with the Darien Indians. This was bad news; but Captain Bournano was able to assure the company "that since the conclusion of the said peace, they had been already tried, and found very faithful"; for they had been of service to him in his late foray. He added that they had offered to guide him "to a great and very rich place called Tocamora," and that he had promised to come to them "with more ships and men," in three months' time. The buccaneers thought that Tocamora, apart from the beauty of the name, appeared to promise gold, so they decided to go thither as soon as they had careened and refitted. Boca del Toro, the anchorage in which they lay, was full of "green tortoise" for ships short of food. There were handy creeks, among the islands, for the ships to careen in, when their hulls were foul. The pirates hauled their ships into the creeks, and there hove them down, while their Moskito allies speared the tortoise, and the manatee, along the coast, and afterwards salted the flesh for sea-provision. As soon as the squadron was ready, they mustered at Water Key, and set sail for Golden Island, where they meant to hold a final council. On the way to the eastward they put in at the Samballoes, or islands of San Blas, to fill fresh water, and to buy fruit from the Indians. When the anchors held, the Indians came aboard with fruit, venison, and native cloth, to exchange for edged iron tools, and red and green beads. They were tall men, smeared with black paint (the women used red, much as in Europe), and each Indian's nose was hung with a plate of gold or silver. Among the women were a few albinos, who were said to see better in the dark than in the light. "These Indians misliked our design for Tocamora," because the way thither was mountainous and barren and certain to be uninhabited. A force going thither would be sure to starve on the road, they said, but it would be an easy matter to march to Panama, as Drake had marched. New Panama was already a rich city, so that they would not "fail of making a good voyage by going thither." This advice of the Indians impressed the buccaneers. They determined to abandon the Tocamora project as too dangerous. Most of them were in favour of going to sack Panama. But Captain Bournano, and Captain Row, who commanded about a hundred Frenchmen between them, refused to take their men on "a long march by land." Perhaps they remembered how Morgan had treated the French buccaneers after his Panama raid, nine years before. They therefore remained at anchor when the squadron parted company. An Indian chief, Captain Andreas, came aboard the English flagship. The bloody colours were hoisted, and a gun fired in farewell. The English ships then loosed their top-sails and stood away for Golden Island, to an anchorage they knew of, where a final muster could be held. They dropped anchor there, "being in all seven sail," on 3rd April 1680. Their strength at the Samballoes had been as follows:-- Tons Guns Men Captain Coxon in a ship of 80 8 97 Captain Harris " 150 25 107 Captain Sawkins " 16 1 35 Captain Sharp " 25 2 40 Captain Cook " 35 0 43 Captain Alleston " 18 0 24 Captain Macket " 14 0 20 but of these 366 buccaneers a few had remained behind with the Frenchmen. While they lay at Golden Island, the Indians brought them word of "a town called Santa Maria," on the Rio Santa Maria, near the Gulf of San Miguel, on the Pacific coast. It was a garrison town, with four companies of musketeers in its fort, for there were gold mines in the hills behind it. The gold caravans went from it, once a month in the dry seasons, to Panama. If the place failed to yield them a booty, the buccaneers were determined to attack new Panama. Had they done so they would probably have destroyed the place, for though the new city was something stronger than the old, the garrison was in the interior fighting the Indians. The design on Santa Maria was popular. On the matter being put to the vote it was carried without protest. The buccaneers passed the 4th of April in arranging details, and picking a party to protect the ships during their absence. They arranged that Captains Alleston and Macket, with about twenty-five or thirty seamen, should remain in the anchorage as a ship's guard. The remainder of the buccaneers, numbering 331 able-bodied men (seven of whom were French), were to march with the colours the next morning. On the 5th of April 1680, these 331 adventurers dropped across the channel from Golden Island, and landed on the isthmus, somewhere near Drake's old anchorage. Captain Bartholomew Sharp, of "the dangerous voyage and bold assaults," came first, with some Indian guides, one of whom helped the Captain, who was sick and faint with a fever. This vanguard "had a red flag, with a bunch of white and green ribbons." The second company, or main battle, was led by the admiral, Richard Sawkins, who "had a red flag striped with yellow." The third and fourth companies, which were under one captain (Captain Peter Harris), had two green flags. The fifth and sixth companies, under Captain John Coxon, "had each of them a red flag." A few of Alleston's and Macket's men carried arms under Coxon in these companies. The rear-guard was led by Captain Edmund Cook, "with red colours striped with yellow, with a hand and sword for his device." "All or most" of the men who landed, "were armed with a French fuzee" (or musket), a pistol and hanger, with two pounds of powder and "proportionable bullet." Each of them carried a scrip or satchel containing "three or four cakes of bread," or doughboys, weighing half-a-pound apiece, with some modicum of turtle flesh. "For drink the rivers afforded enough." Among the men who went ashore in that company were William Dampier, the author of the best books of voyages in the language; Lionel Wafer, the chirurgeon of the party, who wrote a description of the isthmus; Mr Basil Ringrose, who kept an intimate record of the foray; and Captain Bartholomew Sharp, who also kept a journal, but whose writings are less reliable than those of the other three. It is not often that three historians of such supreme merit as Dampier, Wafer, and Ringrose, are associated in a collaboration so charming, as a piratical raid. Wafer had been a surgeon in Port Royal, but Edmund Cook had shown him the delights of roving, and the cruise he had made to Cartagena had confirmed him in that way of life. Basil Ringrose had but lately arrived at the Indies, and it is not known what induced him to go buccaneering. He was a good cartographer, and had as strong a bent towards the description of natural phenomena, as Dampier had. He probably followed the pirates in order to see the world, and to get some money, and to extend his knowledge. Sharp had been a pirate for some years, and there was a warrant out for him at Jamaica for his share in the sack of Porto Bello. With Dampier's history the reader has been made acquainted. The Indians, under Captain Andreas, led the buccaneers from the landing-place "through a small skirt of wood," beyond which was a league of sandy beach. "After that, we went two leagues directly up a woody valley, where we saw here and there an old plantation, and had a very good path to march in." By dusk they had arrived at a river-bank, beneath which the water lay in pools, joined by trickles and little runlets, which babbled over sun-bleached pebbles. They built themselves huts in this place, about a great Indian hut which stood upon the river-bank. They slept there that night, "having nothing but the cold Earth for their Beds," in much discouragement "with the going back of some of the Men." The buccaneers who had been some weeks at sea, were not in marching trim, and it seems that the long day's tramp in the sun had sickened many of them. While they rested in their lodges, an Indian king, whom they called "Captain Antonio," came in to see them. He said that he had sent word to one of his tributaries, farther to the south, to prepare food and lodgings for the buccaneers "against their Arrival." As for himself, he wished very much that he could come with them to lead their guides, but unfortunately "his child lay very sick." However, it comforted him to think that the child would be dead by the next day, at latest, "and then he would most certainly follow and overtake" them. He warned the company not to lie in the grass, "for fear of monstrous adders"; and so bowed himself out of camp, and returned home. The kingly prayers seem to have been effectual, for Captain Antonio was in camp again by sunrise next morning, with no family tie to keep him from marching. As the men sluiced themselves in the river before taking to the road, they noticed that the pebbles shone "with sparks of gold" when broken across. They did not stay to wash the river-mud, for gold dust and golden pellets, but fell in for the march, and climbed from dawn till nearly dusk. They went over "a steep Mountain" which was parched and burnt and waterless. Four of the buccaneers refused to go farther than the foot of this hill, so they returned to the ships. The others, under the guidance of Antonio, contrived to cross the mountain "to an Hollow of Water," at which they drank very greedily. Six miles farther on they halted for the night, beside a stream. They slept there, "under the Canopy of Heaven," suffering much discomfort from some drenching showers. After some days of climbing, wading, and suffering, the army reached the house of King Golden Cap, an Indian king. The King came out to meet them in his robes, with a little reed crown on his head, lined with red silk, and covered with a thin plate of gold. He had a golden ring in his nose, and a white cotton frock over his shoulders. His queen wore a red blanket, and a blouse "like our old-fashioned striped hangings." This royal couple bade the army welcome, and ordered food to be brought for them. The buccaneers passed a couple of days in King Golden Cap's city, trading their coloured beads, and scraps of iron, for fresh fruit and meat. They found the Indians "very cunning" in bargaining, which means, we suppose, that they thought a twopenny whittle a poor return for a hog or a sack of maize. When the men had rested themselves, and had dried their muddy clothes, they set out again, with Captain Sawkins in the vanguard. As they marched out of the town "the King ordered us each man to have three plantains, with sugar-canes to suck, by way of a present." They breakfasted on these fruits, as they marched. The road led them "along a very bad Path" continually intersected by a river, which they had to wade some fifty or sixty times, to their great misery. They passed a few Indian huts on the way, and at each hut door stood an Indian to give "as we passed by, to every one of us, a ripe plantain, or some sweet cassava-root." Some of the Indians counted the army "by dropping a grain of corn for each man that passed before them," for without counters they could not reckon beyond twenty. The army had by this time been swelled by an Indian contingent, of about 150 men, "armed with Bows, Arrows and Lances." The Indians dropping their corn grains must have dropped nearly 500 before the last man passed them. That night, which was clear and fine, they rested in three large Indian huts, where King Golden Cap's men had stored up food and drink, and a number of canoas, for the voyage south. The river went brawling past their bivouac at a little distance, and some of the men caught fish, and broiled them in the coals for their suppers. At daylight next morning, while they were getting the canoas to the water, Captain Coxon had "some Words" with Captain Harris (of the green flags). The words ran into oaths, for the two men were surly with the discomforts of turning out. Coxon whipped up a gun and fired at Peter Harris, "which he was [naturally] ready to return." Sharp knocked his gun up before he could fire, "and brought him to be quiet; so that we proceeded on our Journey." They had no further opportunities for fighting, for Sawkins gave the word a moment later for seventy of the buccaneers to embark in the canoas. There were fourteen of these boats, all of them of small size. Sharp, Coxon, and Cook were placed in charge of them. Captain Harris was told off to travel with the land party, with Sawkins, King Golden Cap, and the other men. Don Andreas, with twenty-eight other Indians (two to a canoa) acted as boatmen, or pilots, to the flotilla. Basil Ringrose, who was one of the boat party, has told us of the miseries of the "glide down the stream." The river was low, and full of rotting tree trunks, so that "at the distance of almost every stone's cast," they had to leave the boats "and haul them over either sands or rocks, and at other times over trees." Sharp, who was of tougher fibre, merely says that they "paddled all Day down the Falls and Currents of the River, and at Night took up our Quarters upon a Green Bank by the Riverside, where we had Wild Fowl and Plantanes for Supper: But our Beds were made upon the cold Earth, and our Coverings were the Heavens, and green Trees we found there." The next day they went downstream again, over many more snags and shallows, which set them wading in the mud till their boots rotted off their feet. Ringrose was too tired to make a note in his journal, save that, that night, "a tiger" came out and looked at them as they sat round the camp fires. Sharp says that the labour "was a Pleasure," because "of that great Unity there was then amongst us," and because the men were eager "to see the fair South Sea." They lodged that night "upon a green Bank of the River," and ate "a good sort of a Wild Beast like unto our English Hog." The third day, according to Ringrose, was the worst day of all. The river was as full of snags as it had been higher up, but the last reach of it was clear water, so that they gained the rendezvous "about Four in the Afternoon." To their very great alarm they found that the land party had not arrived. They at once suspected that the Indians had set upon them treacherously, and cut them off in the woods. But Don Andreas sent out scouts "in Search of them," who returned "about an Hour before Sun-set," with "some of their Number," and a message that the rest would join company in the morning. A little after daybreak the land force marched in, and pitched their huts near the river, "at a beachy point of land," perhaps the very one where Oxenham's pinnace had been beached. They passed the whole day there resting, and cleaning weapons, for they were now but "a Day and a Night's Journey" from the town they had planned to attack. Many more Indians joined them at this last camp of theirs, so that the army had little difficulty in obtaining enough canoas to carry them to Santa Maria. They set out early the next morning, in sixty-eight canoas, being in all "327 of us Englishmen, and 50 Indians." Until that day the canoas had been "poled" as a punt is poled, but now they cut oars and paddles "to make what speed we could." All that day they rowed, and late into the night, rowing "with all haste imaginable," and snapping up one or two passing Indian boats which were laden with plantains. It was after midnight, and about "Two Hours before Day Light," when they ran into a mud bank, about a mile from the town, and stepped ashore, upon a causeway of oars and paddles. They had to cut themselves a path through jungle, as soon as they had crossed the mud, for the town was walled about with tropical forest. They "lay still in the Woods, till the Light appeared," when they "heard the Spaniard discharge his Watch at his Fort by Beat of Drum, and a Volley of Shot." It was the Spanish way of changing guard, at daybreak. It was also the signal for the "Forlorn" of the buccaneers to march to the battle, under Sawkins. This company consisted of seventy buccaneers. As they debouched from the forest, upon open ground, the Spaniards caught sight of them and beat to arms. The men in the fort at once opened fire "very briskly," but the advance-guard ran in upon them, tore down some of the stockade, and "entered the fort incontinently." A moment or two of wild firing passed inside the palisades, and then the Spanish colours were dowsed. The buccaneers in this storm lost two men wounded, of the fifty who attacked. The Spanish loss was twenty-six killed, and sixteen wounded, out of 300 under arms. About fifty more, of the Spanish prisoners, were promptly killed by the Indians, who took them into the woods and stabbed them "to death" with their lances. It seems that one of that garrison, a man named Josef Gabriele, had raped King Golden Cap's daughter who was then with child by him. (Gabriele, as it chanced, was not speared, but saved to pilot the pirates to Panama.) This was the sole action of the Indians in that engagement. During the battle they lay "in a small hollow," "in great consternation" at "the noise of the guns." Though the buccaneers had taken the place easily, they had little cause for rejoicing. The town was "a little pitiful Place," with a few thatched huts, or "wild houses made of Cane," and "but one Church in it." The fort "was only Stockadoes," designed merely as a frontier post "to keep in subjection the Indians" or as a lodging for men employed in the gold mines. There was no more provision in store there than would serve their turn for a week. As for the gold, they had missed it by three days. Three hundredweight of gold had been sent to Panama while they were struggling downstream. News of their coming had been brought to the fort in time, and "all their treasure of gold," "that huge booty of gold" they had expected to win, had been shipped westward. Nor had they any prisoners to hold to ransom. The Governor, the town priest, and the chief citizens, had slipped out of the town in boats, and were now some miles away. Richard Sawkins manned a canoa, and went in chase of them, but they got clear off, to give advice to Panama that pirates were come across the isthmus. The only pillage they could find, after torturing their prisoners "severely," amounted to "twenty pounds' weight of gold, and a small quantity of silver." To this may be added a few personal belongings, such as weapons or trinkets, from the chests of the garrison. When the booty, such as it was, had been gathered, the captains held a meeting "to discuss what were best to be done." Some were for going to the South Sea, to cruise; but John Coxon, who had taken Porto Bello, and hated to be second to Sawkins, was for going back to the ships. The general vote was for going to Panama, "that city being the receptacle of all the plate, jewels, and gold that is dug out of the mines of all Potosi and Peru." However, they could not venture on Panama without Coxon, and Coxon's company; so they made Coxon their admiral, "Coxon seeming to be well satisfied." Before starting, they sent their booty back to Golden Island, under a guard of twelve men. Most of the Indians fell off at this time, for they had "got from us what knives, scissors, axes, needles and beads they could." Old King Golden Cap, and his son, were less mercenary, and stayed with the colours, being "resolved to go to Panama, out of the desire they had to see that place taken and sacked." They may have followed the buccaneers in order to kill the Spaniard who had raped the princess, for that worthy was still alive, under guard. He had promised to lead the pirates "even to the very bed-chamber door of the governor of Panama." With the vision of this bed-chamber door before them, the pirates embarked at Santa Maria "in thirty-five canoes" and a ship they had found at anchor in the river. As they "sailed, or rather rowed" downstream, with the ebb, the Spanish prisoners prayed to be taken aboard, lest the Indians should take them and torture them all to death. "We had much ado to find a sufficient number of boats for ourselves," says Ringrose, for the Indians had carried many of the canoas away. Yet the terror of their situation so wrought upon the Spaniards that they climbed on to logs, or crude rafts, or into old canoas, "and by that means shifted so ... as to come along with us." The island Chepillo, off the mouth of the Cheapo River, had been named as the general rendezvous, but most of the buccaneers were to spend several miserable days before they anchored there. One canoa containing ten Frenchmen, was capsized, to the great peril of the Frenchmen, who lost all their weapons. Ringrose was separated from the company, drenched to the skin, half starved, and very nearly lynched by some Spaniards. His 19th of April was sufficiently stirring to have tired him of going a-roving till his death. He put out "wet and cold," at dawn; was shipwrecked at ten; saved the lives of five Spaniards at noon; "took a survey," or drew a sketch of the coast, an hour later; set sail again by four, was taken by the Spaniards and condemned to death at nine; was pardoned at ten; sent away "in God's name," "vaya ustad con Dios," at eleven; and was at sea again "wet and cold," by midnight. Sharp's party was the most fortunate, for as they entered the bay of Panama they came to an island "a very pleasant green Place," off which a barque of thirty tons came to anchor, "not long before it was dark." The island had a high hummock of land upon it with a little hut, and a stack for a bonfire, at the top. A watchman, an old man, lived in this hut, looking out over the sea for pirates, with orders to fire his beacon, to warn the men on the Main if a strange sail appeared. The pirates caught this watchman before the fire was lit. They learned from him that those at Panama had not yet heard of their coming. Shortly after they had captured the watchman, the little barque aforesaid, came to anchor, and furled her sails. Two of Sharp's canoas crept out, "under the shore," and laid her aboard "just as it began to be duskish." She proved to be a Panama boat, in use as a troop transport. She had just landed some soldiers on the Main, to quell some Indians, who had been raiding on the frontier. Her crew were negroes, Indians, and mulattoes. Most of the buccaneers, especially those in the small canoas, "endeavoured to get into" this ship, to stretch their legs, and to have the advantage of a shelter. More than 130 contrived to stow themselves in her 'tween decks, under "that sea-artist, and valiant commander" (the words are probably his own) "Captain Bartholomew Sharp." They put to sea in her the next day, followed by the canoas. During the morning they took another small barque, in which Captain Harris placed thirty men, and hoisted the green flag. The wind fell calm after the skirmish, but the canoas rowed on to Chepillo, to the rendezvous, where they found provisions such as "two fat hogs," and some plantains, and a spring of water. A little after dawn, on the day following, while the ships were trying to make the anchorage, Captain Coxon, and Captain Sawkins, rowed out from Chepillo to board a barque which was going past the island under a press of sail. The wind was so light that the canoas overhauled her, but before they could hook to her chains "a young breeze, freshening at that instant," swept her clear of danger. Her men fired a volley into Coxon's boat, which the pirates returned. "They had for their Breakfast a small fight," says Sharp. One of the pirates--a Mr Bull--was killed with an iron slug. The Spaniards got clear away without any loss, "for the Wind blew both fresh and fair" for them. Three or four pirates were grazed with shot, and some bullets went through the canoas. The worst of the matter was that the Spaniards got safely to Panama, "to give intelligence of our coming." As they could no longer hope to take the city by surprise, "while the Governor was in his bed-chamber," they determined to give the citizens as little time for preparation as was possible. They were still twenty miles from Panama, but the canoas could pass those twenty miles in a few hours' easy rowing. They set out at four o'clock in the evening, after they had delivered their Spanish prisoners "for certain reasons" (which Ringrose "could not dive into") into the hands of the Indians. This act of barbarity was accompanied with the order that the Indians were "to fight, or rather to murder and slay the said prisoners upon the shore, and that in view of the whole fleet." However, the Spaniards rushed the Indians, broke through them, and got away to the woods with the loss of but one soldier. After they had watched the scuffle, the pirates rowed away merrily towards Panama, "though many showers of rain ceased not to fall." Sharp's vessel, with her crew of more than 130 men, made off for the Pearl Islands, ostensibly to fill fresh water, but really, no doubt, to rob the pearl fisheries. He found a woman (who was "very young and handsome"), and "a Case or two of Wines," at these islands, together with some poultry. He made a feast there, and stayed at anchor that night, and did not set sail again till noon of the day following, by which time the battle of Panama had been fought and won. _Authorities._--Dampier's Voyages. Wafer's Voyages. Ringrose's Journal. "The Dangerous Voyage and Bold Assaults of Captain Bartholomew Sharp"; "The Voyages and Adventures of Captain Bartholomew Sharp" (four or five different editions). Ringrose's MSS., Sharp's MSS., in the Sloane MSS. CHAPTER XIV THE BATTLE OF PERICO Arica--The South Sea cruise On 23rd April 1680, "that day being dedicated to St George, our Patron of England," the canoas arrived off Panama. "We came," says Ringrose, "before sunrise within view of the city of Panama, which makes a pleasant show to the vessels that are at sea." They were within sight of the old cathedral church, "the beautiful building whereof" made a landmark for them, reminding one of the buccaneers "of St Paul's in London," a church at that time little more than a ruin. The new city was not quite finished, but the walls of it were built, and there were several splendid churches, with scaffolding about them, rising high, here and there, over the roofs of the houses. The townspeople were in a state of panic at the news of the pirates' coming. Many of them had fled into the savannahs; for it chanced that, at that time, many of the troops in garrison, were up the country, at war with a tribe of Indians. The best of the citizens, under Don Jacinto de Baronha, the admiral of those seas, had manned the ships in the bay. Old Don Peralta, who had saved the golden galleon ten years before, had 'listed a number of negroes, and manned one or two barques with them. With the troops still in barracks, and these volunteers and pressed men, they had manned, in all "five great ships, and three pretty big barks." Their force may have numbered 280 men. One account gives the number, definitely, as 228. The buccaneer force has been variously stated, but it appears certain that the canoas, and periaguas, which took part in the fight, contained only sixty-eight of their company. Sharp, as we have seen, had gone with his company to the Pearl Islands. The remaining 117 men were probably becalmed, in their barques and canoas, some miles from the vanguard. When the buccaneers caught sight of Panama, they were probably between that city and the islands of Perico and Tobagilla. They were in great disorder, and the men were utterly weary with the long night of rowing in the rain, with the wind ahead. They were strung out over several miles of sea, with five light canoas, containing six or seven men apiece, a mile or two in advance. After these came two lumbering periaguas, with sixteen men in each. King Golden Cap was in one of these latter. Dampier and Wafer were probably not engaged in this action. Ringrose was in the vanguard, in a small canoa. A few minutes after they had sighted the roofs of Panama, they made out the ships at anchor off the Isle of Perico. There were "five great ships and three pretty big barks," manned, as we have said, by soldiers, negroes, and citizens. The men aboard this fleet were in the rigging of their ships, keeping a strict lookout. As they caught sight of the pirates the three barques "instantly weighed anchor," and bore down to engage, under all the sail they could crowd. The great ships had not sufficient men to fight their guns. They remained at anchor; but their crews went aboard the barques, so that the decks of the three men-of-war must have been inconveniently crowded. The Spaniards were dead to windwind of the pirates, so that they merely squared their yards, and ran down the wind "designedly to show their valour." They had intended to run down the canoas, and to sail over them, for their captains had orders to give no quarter to the pirates, but to kill them, every man. "Such bloody commands as these," adds Ringrose piously, "do seldom or never prosper." It was now a little after sunrise. The wind was light but steady; the sea calm. As the Spaniards drew within range, the pirates rowed up into the wind's eye, and got to windward of them. Their pistols and muskets had not been wetted in the rain, for each buccaneer had provided himself with an oiled cover for his firearms, the mouth of which he stopped with wax whenever it rained. The Spanish ships ran past the three leading canoas, exchanging volleys at long range. They were formed in line of battle ahead, with a ship manned by mulattoes, or "Tawnymores," in the van. This ship ran between the fourth canoa, in which Ringrose was, and the fifth (to leeward of her) commanded by Sawkins. As she ran between the boats she fired two thundering broadsides, one from each battery, which wounded five buccaneers. "But he paid dear for his passage"; because the buccaneers gave her a volley which killed half her sail trimmers, so that she was long in wearing round to repeat her fire. At this moment the two periaguas came into action, and got to windward with the rest of the pirates' fleet. While Ringrose's company were ramming the bullets down their gun muzzles, the Spanish admiral (in the second ship) engaged, "scarce giving us time to charge." She was a fleet ship, and had a good way on her, and her design was to pass between two canoas, and give to each a roaring hot broadside. As she ran down, so near that the buccaneers could look right into her, one of the pirates fired his musket at her helmsman, and shot him through the heart as he steered. The ship at once "broached-to," and lay with her sails flat aback, stopped dead. The five canoas, and one of the periaguas, got under her stern, and so plied her with shot that her decks were like shambles, running with blood and brains, five minutes after she came to the wind. Meanwhile Richard Sawkins ran his canoa--which was a mere sieve of cedar wood, owing to the broadside--alongside the second periagua, and took her steering oar. He ordered his men to give way heartily, for the third Spanish ship, under old Don Peralta, was now bearing down to relieve the admiral. Before she got near enough to blow the canoas out of water, Captain Sawkins ran her on board, and so swept her decks with shot that she went no farther. But "between him and Captain Sawkins, the dispute, or fight, was very hot, lying board on board together, and both giving and receiving death unto each other as fast as they could charge." Indeed, the fight, at this juncture, was extremely fierce. The two Spanish ships in action were surrounded with smoke and fire, the men "giving and receiving death" most gallantly. The third ship, with her sail trimmers dead, was to leeward, trying to get upon the other tack. After a time her sailors got her round, and reached to windward, to help the admiral, who was now being sorely battered. Ringrose, and Captain Springer, a famous pirate, "stood off to meet him," in two canoas, as "he made up directly towards the Admiral." Don Jacinto, they noticed, as they shoved off from his flagship, was standing on his quarter-deck, waving "with a handkerchief," to the captain of the Tawnymores' ship. He was signalling him to scatter the canoas astern of the flagship. It was a dangerous moment, and Ringrose plainly saw "how hard it would go with us if we should be beaten from the Admiral's stern." With the two canoas he ran down to engage, pouring in such fearful volleys of bullets that they covered the Spaniard's decks with corpses and dying men. "We killed so many of them, that the vessel had scarce men enough left alive, or unwounded, to carry her off. Had he not given us the helm, and made away from us, we had certainly been on board him." Her decks were littered with corpses, and she was literally running blood. The wind was now blowing fresh, and she contrived to put before it, and so ran out of action, a terrible sight for the Panama women. Having thus put the Tawnymores out of action, Ringrose and Springer hauled to the wind, and "came about again upon the Admiral, and all together gave a loud halloo." The cheer was answered by Sawkins' men, from the periagua, as they fired into the frigate's ports. Ringrose ran alongside the admiral, and crept "so close" under the vessel's stern, "that we wedged up the rudder." The admiral was shot, and killed, a moment later, as he brought aft a few musketeers to fire out of the stern ports. The ship's pilot, or sailing master, was killed by the same volley. As for the crew, the "stout Biscayners," "they were almost quite disabled and disheartened likewise, seeing what a bloody massacre we had made among them with our shot." Two-thirds of the crew were killed, "and many others wounded." The survivors cried out for quarter, which had been offered to them several times before, "and as stoutly denied until then." Captain Coxon thereupon swarmed up her sides, with a gang of pirates, helping up after him the valorous Peter Harris "who had been shot through both his legs, as he boldly adventured up along the side of the ship." The Biscayners were driven from their guns, disarmed, and thrust down on to the ballast, under a guard. All the wounded pirates were helped up to the deck and made comfortable. Then, in all haste, the unhurt men manned two canoas, and rowed off to help Captain Sawkins, "who now had been three times beaten from on board by Peralta." A very obstinate and bloody fight had been raging round the third man-of-war. Her sides were splintered with musket-balls. She was oozing blood from her scuppers, yet "the old and stout Spaniard" in command, was cheerily giving shot for shot. "Indeed, to give our enemies their due, no men in the world did ever act more bravely than these Spaniards." Ringrose's canoa was the first to second Captain Sawkins. She ran close in, "under Peralta's side," and poured in a blasting full volley through her after gun-ports. A scrap of blazing wad fell among the red-clay powder jars in the after magazine. Before she could fire a shot in answer, she blew up abaft. Ringrose from the canoa "saw his men blown up, that were abaft the mast, some of them falling on the deck, and others into the sea." But even this disaster did not daunt old Peralta. Like a gallant sea-captain, he slung a bowline round his waist, and went over the side, burnt as he was, to pick up the men who had been blown overboard. The pirates fired at him in the water, but the bullets missed him. He regained his ship, and the fight went on. While the old man was cheering the wounded to their guns, "another jar of powder took fire forward," blowing the gun's crews which were on the fo'c's'le into the sea. The forward half of the ship caught fire, and poured forth a volume of black smoke, in the midst of which Richard Sawkins boarded, and "took the ship." A few minutes later, Basil Ringrose went on board, to give what aid he could to the hurt. "And indeed," he says, "such a miserable sight I never saw in my life, for not one man there was found, but was either killed, desperately wounded, or horribly burnt with powder, insomuch that their black skins [the ship was manned with negroes] were turned white in several places, the powder having torn it from their flesh and bones." But if Peralta's ship was a charnel-house, the admiral's flagship was a reeking slaughter-pen. Of her eighty-six sailors, sixty-one had been killed. Of the remaining twenty-five, "only eight were able to bear arms, all the rest being desperately wounded, and by their wounds totally disabled to make any resistance, or defend themselves. Their blood ran down the decks in whole streams, and scarce one place in the ship was found that was free from blood." The loss on the Tawnymores' ship was never known, but there had been such "bloody massacre" aboard her, that two other barques, in Panama Roads, had been too scared to join battle, though they had got under sail to engage. According to Ringrose, the pirates lost eighteen men killed, and twenty-two men wounded, several of them severely. Sharp, who was not in the fight, gives the numbers as eleven killed, and thirty-four wounded. The battle began "about half an hour after sunrise." The last of the Spanish fire ceased a little before noon. Having taken the men-of-war, Captain Sawkins asked his prisoners how many men were aboard the galleons, in the Perico anchorage. Don Peralta, who was on deck, "much burnt in both his hands," and "sadly scalded," at once replied that "in the biggest alone there were three hundred and fifty men," while the others were manned in proportion to their tonnage. But one of his men "who lay a-dying upon the deck, contradicted him as he was speaking, and told Captain Sawkins there was not one man on board any of those ships that were in view." "This relation" was believed, "as proceeding from a dying man," and a few moments later it was proved to be true. The greatest of the galleons, "the Most Blessed _Trinity_," perhaps the very ship in which Peralta had saved the treasures of the cathedral church, was found to be empty. Her lading of "wine, sugar, and sweetmeats, skins and soap" (or hides and tallow) was still in the hold, but the Spaniards had deserted her, after they had set her on fire, "made a hole in her, and loosened [perhaps cut adrift] her foresail." The pirates quenched the fire, stopped the leak, and placed their wounded men aboard her, "and thus constituted her for the time being our hospital." They lay at anchor, at Perico, for the rest of that day. On the 24th of April they seem to have been joined by a large company of those who had been to leeward at the time of the battle. Reinforced by these, to the strength of nearly 200 men, they weighed their anchors, set two of the prize galleons on fire with their freights of flour and iron, and removed their fleet to the roads of Panama. They anchored near the city, just out of heavy gunshot, in plain view of the citizens. They could see the famous stone walls, which had cost so much gold that the Spanish King, in his palace at Madrid, had asked his minister whether they could be seen from the palace windows. They marked the stately, great churches which were building. They saw the tower of St Anastasius in the distance, white and stately, like a blossom above the greenwood. They may even have seen the terrified people in the streets, following the banners of the church, and the priests in their black robes, to celebrate a solemn Mass and invocation. Very far away, in the green savannahs, they saw the herds of cattle straying between the clumps of trees. Late that night, long after it was dark, Captain Bartholomew Sharp joined company. He had been to Chepillo to look for them, and had found their fire "not yet out," and a few dead Spaniards, whom the Indians had killed, lying about the embers. He had been much concerned for the safety of the expedition, and was therefore very pleased to find that "through the Divine Assistance" the buccaneers had triumphed. At supper that night he talked with Don Peralta, who told him of some comets, "two strange Comets," which had perplexed the Quito merchants the year before. There was "good Store of Wine" aboard the _Trinity_ galleon, with which all hands "cheered up their Hearts for a While." Then, having set sentinels, they turned in for the night. The next day they buried Captain Peter Harris, "a brave and stout Soldier, and a valiant Englishman, born in the county of Kent, whose death [from gunshot wounds] we very much lamented." With him they buried another buccaneer who had been hurt in the fight. The other wounded men recovered. They would probably have landed to sack the town on this day, had not a quarrel broken out between some of the company and Captain Coxon. The question had been brought forward, whether the buccaneers should go cruising in the South Sea, in their prizes, or return, overland, to their ships at Golden Island. It was probably suggested, as another alternative, that they should land to sack the town. All the captains with one exception were for staying in the Pacific "to try their Fortunes." Captain Coxon, however, was for returning to Golden Island. He had been dissatisfied ever since the fight at Santa Maria. He had not distinguished himself particularly in the fight off Perico, and no doubt he felt jealous that the honours of that battle should have been won by Sawkins. Sawkins' men taunted him with "backwardness" in that engagement, and "stickled not to defame, or brand him with the note of cowardice." To this he answered that he would be very glad to leave that association, and that he would take one of the prizes, a ship of fifty tons, and a periagua, to carry his men up the Santa Maria River. Those who stayed, he added, might heal his wounded. That night he drew off his company, with several other men, in all about seventy hands. With them he carried "the best of our Doctors and Medicines," and the hearty ill will of the other buccaneers. Old King Golden Cap accompanied these deserters, leaving behind him his son and a nephew, desiring them to be "not less vigorous" than he had been in harrying the Spanish. Just before Coxon set sail, he asked Bartholomew Sharp to accompany him. But that proven soul "could not hear of so dirty and inhuman an Action without detestation." So Coxon sailed without ally, "which will not much redound to his Honour," leaving all his wounded on the deck of the captured galleon. The fleet, it may be added, had by this time returned to the anchorage at Perico. They lay there ten days in all, "debating what were best to be done." In that time they took a frigate laden with fowls. They took the poultry for their own use, and dismissed some of "the meanest of the prisoners" in the empty ship. They then shifted their anchorage to the island of Taboga, where there were a few houses, which some drunken pirates set on fire. While they lay at this island the merchants of Panama came off to them "and sold us what commodities we needed, buying also of us much of the goods we had taken in their own vessels." The pirates also sold them a number of negroes they had captured, receiving "two hundred pieces of eight for each negro we could spare." "And here we took likewise several barks that were laden with fowls." After Coxon's defection, Richard Sawkins was re-elected admiral, and continued in that command till his death some days later. Before they left Taboga, Captain Sharp went cruising to an island some miles distant to pick up some straggling drunkards who belonged to his ship. While he lay at anchor, in a dead calm, waiting for a breeze to blow, a great Spanish merchant ship hove in sight, bound from Lima (or Truxillo) to Panama. Sharp ran his canoas alongside, and bade her dowse her colours, at the same time sending a gang of pirates over her rail, to throw the crew under hatches. "He had no Arms to defend himself with, save only Rapiers," so her captain made no battle, but struck incontinently. She proved to be a very splendid prize, for in her hold were nearly 2000 jars of wine and brandy, 100 jars of good vinegar, and a quantity of powder and shot, "which came very luckily." In addition to these goods there were 51,000 pieces of eight, "247 pieces of eight a man," a pile of silver sent to pay the Panama soldiery; and a store of sweetmeats, such as Peru is still famous for. And there were "other Things," says Sharp, "that were very grateful to our dis-satisfied Minds." Some of the wine and brandy were sold to the Panama merchants a few days later, "to the value of three thousand Pieces of Eight." A day or two after this they snapped up two flour ships, from Paita. One of these was a pretty ship of a fine model, of about 100 tons. Sharp fitted her for himself, "for I liked her very well." The other flour ship was taken very gallantly, under a furious gunfire from Panama Castle. The buccaneers rowed in, with the cannon-balls flying over their heads. They got close alongside "under her Guns," and then towed her out of cannon-shot. They continued several days at Taboga, waiting for a Lima treasure ship, aboard which, the Spaniards told them, were £2500 in silver dollars. While they waited for this ship the Governor at Panama wrote to ask them why they had come into those seas. Captain Sawkins answered that they had come to help King Golden Cap, the King of Darien, the true lord of those lands, and that, since they had come so far, "there was no reason but that they should have some satisfaction." If the Governor would send them 500 pieces of eight for each man, and double that sum for each captain, and, further, undertake "not any farther to annoy the Indians," why, then, the pirates would leave those seas, "and go away peaceably. If the Governor would not agree to these terms, he might look to suffer." A day or two later, Sawkins heard that the Bishop of Panama had been Bishop at Santa Martha (a little city on the Main), some years before, when he (Sawkins) helped to sack the place. He remembered the cleric favourably, and sent him "two loaves of sugar," as a sort of keepsake, or love-offering. "For a retaliation," the Bishop sent him a gold ring; which was very Christian in the Bishop, who must have lost on the exchange. The bearer of the gold ring, brought also an answer from the Governor, who desired to know who had signed the pirates' commissions. To this message Captain Sawkins sent back for answer: "That as yet all his company were not come together, but that when they were come up, we would come and visit him at Panama, and bring our commissions on the muzzles of our guns, at which time he should read them as plain as the flame of gunpowder could make them." With this thrasonical challenge the pirates set sail for Otoque, another of the islands in the bay; for Taboga, though it was "an exceeding pleasant island," was by this time bare of meat. Before they left the place a Frenchman deserted from them, and gave a detailed account of their plans to the Spanish Governor. It blew very hard while they were at sea, and two barques parted company in the storm. One of them drove away to the eastward, and overtook John Coxon's company. The other was taken by the Spaniards. About the 20th or 21st of May, after several days of coasting, the ships dropped anchor on the north coast of the island of Quibo. From here some sixty men, under Captain Sawkins, set sail in Edmund Cook's ship, to attack Pueblo Nuevo, the New Town, situated on the banks of a river. At the river's mouth, which was broad, with sandy beaches, they embarked in canoas, and rowed upstream, under the pilotage of a negro, from dark till dawn. The French deserter had told the Spaniards of the intended attack, so that the canoas found great difficulty in getting upstream. Trees had been felled so as to fall across the river, and Indian spies had been placed here and there along the river-bank to warn the townsmen of the approach of the boats. A mile below the town the river had been made impassable, so here the pirates went ashore to wait till daybreak. When it grew light they marched forward, to attack the strong wooden breastworks which the Spaniards had built. Captain Sawkins was in advance, with about a dozen pirates. Captain Sharp followed at a little distance with some thirty more. As soon as Sawkins saw the stockades he fired his gun, and ran forward gallantly, to take the place by storm, in the face of a fierce fire. "Being a man that nothing upon Earth could terrifie" he actually reached the breastwork, and was shot dead there, as he hacked at the pales. Two other pirates were killed at his side, and five of the brave forlorn were badly hurt. "The remainder drew off, still skirmishing," and contrived to reach the canoas "in pretty good order," though they were followed by Spanish sharpshooters for some distance. Sharp took command of the boats and brought them off safely to the river's mouth, where they took a barque full of maize, before they arrived at their ship. Sawkins was "as valiant and courageous as any could be," "a valiant and generous-spirited man, and beloved above any other we ever had among us, which he well deserved." His death left the company without a captain, and many of the buccaneers, who had truly loved Richard Sawkins, were averse to serving under another commander. They were particularly averse to serving under Sharp, who took the chief command from the moment of Sawkins' death. At Quibo, where they lay at anchor, "their Mutiny" grew very high, nor did they stick at mere mutiny. They clamoured for a tarpaulin muster, or "full Councel," at which the question of "who should be chief" might be put to the vote. At the council, Sharp was elected "by a few hands," but many of the pirates refused to follow him on the cruise. He swore, indeed, that he would take them such a voyage as should bring them £1000 a man; but the oaths of Sharp were not good security, and the mutiny was not abated. Many of the buccaneers would have gone home with Coxon had it not been for Sawkins. These now clamoured to go so vehemently that Sharp was constrained to give them a ship with as much provision "as would serve for treble the number." The mutineers who left on this occasion were in number sixty-three. Twelve Indians, the last who remained among the pirates, went with them, to guide them over the isthmus. 146 men remained with Sharp. It is probable that many of these would have returned at this time, had it not been that "the Rains were now already up, and it would be hard passing so many Gullies, which of necessity would then be full of water." Ringrose, Wafer and Dampier remained among the faithful, but rather on this account, than for any love they bore their leader. The mutineers had hardly set sail, before Captain Cook came "a-Board" Sharp's flagship, finding "himselfe a-grieved." His company had kicked him out of his ship, swearing that they would not sail with such a one, so that he had determined "to rule over such unruly folk no longer." Sharp gave his command to a pirate named Cox, a New Englander, "who forced kindred, as was thought, upon Captain Sharp, out of old acquaintance, in this conjuncture of time, only to advance himself." Cox took with him Don Peralta, the stout old Andalusian, for the pirates were plying the captain "of the Money-Ship we took," to induce him to pilot them to Guayaquil "where we might lay down our Silver, and lade our vessels with Gold." They feared that an honest man, such as Peralta, "would hinder the endeavours" of this Captain Juan, and corrupt his kindly disposition. With these mutinies, quarrels, intrigues, and cabals did the buccaneers beguile their time. They stayed at Quibo until 6th June, filling their water casks, quarrelling, cutting wood, and eating turtle and red deer. They also ate huge oysters, so large "that we were forced to cut them into four pieces, each quarter being a large mouthful." On the 6th of June they set sail for the isle of Gorgona, off what is now Columbia, where they careened the _Trinity_, and took "down our Round House Coach and all the high carved work belonging to the stern of the ship; for when we took her from the Spaniards she was high as any Third Rate Ship in England." While they were at work upon her, Sharp changed his design of going for Guayaquil, as one of their prisoners, an old Moor, "who had long time sailed among the Spaniards," told him that there was gold at Arica, in such plenty that they would get there "£2000 a man." He did not hurry to leave his careenage, though he must have known that each day he stayed there lessened his chance of booty. It was nearly August when he left Gorgona, and "from this Time forward to the 17th of October there was Nothing occurr'd but bare Sailing." Now and then they ran short of water, or of food. One or two of their men died of fever, or of rum, or of sunstroke. Two or three were killed in capturing a small Spanish ship. The only other events recorded, are the falls of rain, the direction of the wind, the sight of "watersnakes of divers colours," and the joyful meeting with Captain Cox, whom they had lost sight of, while close in shore one evening. They called at "Sir Francis Drake's isle" to strike a few tortoises, and to shoot some goats. Captain Sharp we read, here "showed himself very ingenious" in spearing turtle, "he performing it as well as the tortoise strikers themselves." It was very hot at this little island. Many years before Drake had gone ashore there to make a dividend, and had emptied bowls of gold coins into the hats of his men, after the capture of the _Cacafuego_. Some of the pirates sounded the little anchorage with a greasy lead, in the hopes of bringing up the golden pieces which Drake had been unable to carry home, and had hove into the sea there. They got no gold, but the sun shone "so hot that it burnt the skin off the necks of our men," as they craned over the rail at their fishery. At the end of October they landed at the town of Hilo to fill fresh water. They took the town, and sacked its sugar refineries, which they burnt. They pillaged its pleasant orange groves, and carried away many sacks of limes and green figs "with many other fruits agreeable to the palate." Fruit, sugar, and excellent olive oil were the goods which Hilo yielded. They tried to force the Spaniards to bring them beef, but as the beef did not come, they wrecked the oil and sugar works, and set them blazing, and so marched down to their ships, skirmishing with the Spanish horse as they fell back. Among the spoil was the carcass of a mule (which made "a very good meal"), and a box of chocolate "so that now we had each morning a dish of that pleasant liquor," such as the grand English ladies drank. The next town attacked was La Serena, a town five miles from the present Coquimbo. They took the town, and found a little silver, but the citizens had had time to hide their gold. The pirates made a great feast of strawberries "as big as walnuts," in the "orchards of fruit" at this place, so that one of their company wrote that "'tis very delightful Living here." They could not get a ransom for the town, so they set it on fire. The Spaniards, in revenge, sent out an Indian, on an inflated horse hide, to the pirates' ship the _Trinity_. This Indian thrust some oakum and brimstone between the rudder and the sternpost, and "fired it with a match." The sternpost caught fire and sent up a prodigious black smoke, which warned the pirates that their ship was ablaze. They did not discover the trick for a few minutes, but by good fortune they found it out in time to save the vessel. They landed their prisoners shortly after the fire had been quenched "because we feared lest by the example of this stratagem they should plot our destruction in earnest." Old Don Peralta, who had lately been "very frantic," "through too much hardship and melancholy," was there set on shore, after his long captivity. Don Juan, the captain of the "Money-Ship," was landed with him. Perhaps the two fought together, on the point of honour, as soon as they had returned to swords and civilisation. From Coquimbo the pirates sailed for Juan Fernandez. On the way thither they buried William Cammock, one of their men, who had drunk too hard at La Serena "which produced in him a calenture or malignant fever, and a hiccough." "In the evening when the pale Magellan Clouds were showing we buried him in the sea, according to the usual custom of mariners, giving him three French vollies for his funeral." On Christmas Day they were beating up to moorings, with boats ahead, sounding out a channel for the ship. They did not neglect to keep the day holy, for "we gave in the morning early three vollies of shot for solemnization of that great festival." At dusk they anchored "in a stately bay that we found there," a bay of intensely blue water, through which the whiskered seals swam. The pirates filled fresh water, and killed a number of goats, with which the island swarmed. They also captured many goats alive, and tethered them about the decks of the _Trinity_, to the annoyance of all hands, a day or two later, when some flurries of wind drove them to sea, to search out a new anchorage. Shortly after New Year's Day 1681, "our unhappy Divisions, which had been long on Foot, began now to come to an Head to some Purpose." The men had been working at the caulking of their ship, with design to take her through the Straits of Magellan, and so home to the Indies. Many of the men wished to cruise the South Seas a little longer, while nearly all were averse to plying caulking irons, under a burning sun, for several hours a day. There was also a good deal of bitterness against Captain Sharp, who had made but a poor successor to brave Richard Sawkins. He had brought them none of the gold and silver he had promised them, and few of the men were "satisfied, either with his Courage or Behaviour." On the 6th January a gang of pirates "got privately ashoar together," and held a fo'c's'le council under the greenwood. They "held a Consult," says Sharp, "about turning me presently out, and put another in my Room." John Cox, the "true-hearted dissembling New-England Man," whom Sharp "meerly for old Acquaintance-sake" had promoted to be captain, was "the Main Promoter of their Design." When the consult was over, the pirates came on board, clapped Mr Sharp in irons, put him down on the ballast, and voted an old pirate named John Watling, "a stout seaman," to be captain in his stead. One buccaneer says that "the true occasion of the grudge against Sharp was, that he had got by these adventures almost a thousand pounds, whereas many of our men were not worth a groat," having "lost all their money to their fellow Buccaneers at dice." Captain Edmund Cook, who had been turned out of his ship by his men, was this day put in irons on the confession of a shameless servant. The curious will find the details of the case on page 121, of the 1684 edition of Ringrose's journal. John Watling began his captaincy in very godly sort, by ordering his disciples to keep holy the Sabbath day. Sunday, "January the ninth, was the first Sunday that ever we kept by command and common consent, since the loss and death of our valiant Commander Captain Sawkins." Sawkins had been strict in religious matters, and had once thrown the ship's dice overboard "finding them in use on the said day." Since Sawkins' death the company had grown notoriously lax, but it is pleasant to notice how soon they returned to their natural piety, under a godly leader. With Edmund Cook down on the ballast in irons, and William Cook talking of salvation in the galley, and old John Watling expounding the Gospel in the cabin, the galleon, "the Most Holy _Trinity_" must have seemed a foretaste of the New Jerusalem. The fiddler ceased such "prophane strophes" as "Abel Brown," "The Red-haired Man's Wife," and "Valentinian." He tuned his devout strings to songs of Zion. Nay the very boatswain could not pipe the cutter up but to a phrase of the Psalms. In this blessed state they washed their clothes in the brooks, hunted goats across the island, and burnt and tallowed their ship the _Trinity_. But on the 12th of January, one of their boats, which had been along the coast with some hunters, came rowing furiously into the harbour, "firing of Guns." They had espied three Spanish men-of-war some three or four miles to leeward, beating up to the island under a press of sail. The pirates were in great confusion, for most of them were ashore, "washing their clothes," or felling timber. Those on board, hove up one of their anchors, fired guns to call the rest aboard, hoisted their boats in, and slipped their second cable. They then stood to sea, hauling as close to the wind as she would lie. One of the Mosquito Indians, "one William," was left behind on the island, "at this sudden departure," and remained hidden there, living on fish and fruit, for many weary days. He was not the first man to be marooned there; nor was he to be the last. The three Spanish men-of-war were ships of good size, mounting some thirty guns among them. As the pirate ship beat out of the harbour, sheeting home her topgallant-sails, they "put out their bloody flags," which the pirates imitated, "to shew them that we were not as yet daunted." They kept too close together for the pirates to run them aboard, but towards sunset their flagship had drawn ahead of the squadron. The pirates at once tacked about so as to engage her, intending to sweep her decks with bullets, and carry her by boarding. John Watling was not very willing to come to handystrokes, nor were the Spaniards anxious to give him the opportunity. No guns were fired, for the Spanish admiral wore ship, and so sailed away to the island, when he brought his squadron to anchor. The pirates called a council, and decided to give them the slip, having "outbraved them," and done as much as honour called for. They were not very pleased with John Watling, and many were clamouring for the cruise to end. It was decided that they should not attack the Spanish ships, but go off for the Main, to sack the town of Arica, where there was gold enough, so they had heard, to buy them each "a coach and horses." They therefore hauled to the wind again, and stood to the east, in very angry and mutinous spirit, until the 26th of January. On that day they landed at Yqueque, a mud-flat, or guano island, off a line of yellow sand-hills. They found a few Indian huts there, with scaffolds for the drying of fish, and many split and rotting mackerel waiting to be carried inland. There was a dirty stone chapel in the place, "stuck full of hides and sealskins." There was a great surf, green and mighty, bursting about the island with a continual roaring. There were pelicans fishing there, and a few Indians curing fish, and an abominable smell, and a boat, with a cask in her bows, which brought fresh water thither from thirty miles to the north. The teeth of the Indians were dyed a bright green by their chewing of the coca leaf, the drug which made their "beast-like" lives endurable. There was a silver mine on the mainland, near this fishing village, but the pirates did not land to plunder it. They merely took a few old Indian men, and some Spaniards, and carried them aboard the _Trinity_, where the godly John Watling examined them. The next day the examination continued; and the answers of one of the old men, "a Mestizo Indian," were judged to be false. "Finding him in many lies, as we thought, concerning Arica, our commander ordered him to be shot to death, which was accordingly done." This cold-blooded murder was committed much against the will of Captain Sharp, who "opposed it as much as he could." Indeed, when he found that his protests were useless, he took a basin of water (of which the ship was in sore need) and washed his hands, like a modern Pilate. "Gentlemen," he said, "I am clear of the blood of this old man; and I will warrant you a hot day for this piece of cruelty, whenever we come to fight at Arica." This proved to be "a true and certain prophesy." Sharp was an astrologer, and a believer in portents; but he does not tell us whether he had "erected any Figure," to discover what was to chance in the Arica raid. * * * * * Arica, the most northern port in Chile, has still a considerable importance. It is a pleasant town, fairly well watered, and therefore more green and cheerful than the nitrate ports. It is built at the foot of a hill (a famous battlefield) called the Morro. Low, yellow sand-hills ring it in, shutting it from the vast blue crags of the Andes, which rise up, splintered and snowy, to the east. The air there is of an intense clearness, and those who live there can see the Tacna churches, forty miles away. It is no longer the port it was, but it does a fair trade in salt and sulphur, and supplies the nitrate towns with fruit. When the pirates landed there it was a rich and prosperous city. It had a strong fort, mounting twelve brass guns, defended by four companies of troops from Lima. The city had a town guard of 300 soldiers. There was also an arsenal full of firearms for the use of householders in the event of an attack. It was not exactly a walled town, like new Panama, but a light wooden palisade ran round it, while other palisades crossed each street. These defences had been thrown up when news had arrived of the pirates being in those seas. All the "plate, gold and jewels" of the townsfolk had been carefully hidden, and the place was in such a state of military vigilance and readiness that the pirates had no possible chance of taking it, or at least of holding it. When the pirates came upon it there were several ships in the bay, laden with commodities from the south of Chile. [Illustration: _A description of_ Arica] On the 28th of January, John Watling picked 100 men, and put off for the shore in boats and canoas, to attack the town. By the next day they had got close in shore, under the rocks by the San Vitor River's mouth. There they lay concealed till the night. At dawn of the 30th January 1681, "the Martyrdom of our glorious King Charles the First," they were dipping off some rocks four miles to the south of Arica. Here ninety-two of the buccaneers landed, leaving a small boat guard, with strict instructions how to act. They were told that if the main body "made one smoke from the town," as by firing a heap of powder, one canoa was to put in to Arica; but that, if two smokes were fired, all the boats were to put in at once. Basil Ringrose was one of those who landed to take part in the fight. Dampier, it is almost certain, remained on board the _Trinity_, becalmed some miles from the shore. Wafer was in the canoas, with the boat guard, preparing salves for those wounded in the fight. The day seems to have been hot and sunny--it could scarcely have been otherwise--but those out at sea, on the galleon, could see the streamers of cloud wreathing about the Andes. At sunrise the buccaneers got ashore, amongst the rocks, and scrambled up a hill which gave them a sight of the city. From the summit they could look right down upon the streets, little more than a mile from them. It was too early for folk to be stirring, and the streets were deserted, save for the yellow pariahs, and one or two carrion birds. It was so still, in that little town, that the pirates thought they would surprise the place, as Drake had surprised Nombre de Dios. But while they were marching downhill, they saw three horsemen watching them from a lookout place, and presently the horsemen galloped off to raise the inhabitants. As they galloped away, John Watling chose out forty of the ninety-two, to attack the fort or castle which defended the city. This band of forty, among whom were Sharp and Ringrose, carried ten hand-grenades, in addition to their pistols and guns. The fort was on a hill above the town, and thither the storming party marched, while Watling's company pressed on into the streets. The action began a few minutes later with the guns of the fort firing on the storming party. Down in the town, almost at the same moment, the musketry opened in a long roaring roll which never slackened. Ringrose's party waited for no further signal, but at once engaged, running in under the guns and hurling their firepots through the embrasures. The grenades were damp, or badly filled, or had been too long charged. They did not burst or burn as they should have done, while the garrison inside the fort kept up so hot a fire, at close range, that nothing could be done there. The storming party fell back, without loss, and rallied for a fresh attack. They noticed then that Watling's men were getting no farther towards the town. They were halted in line, with their knees on the ground, firing on the breastworks, and receiving a terrible fire from the Spaniards. Five of the fifty-two men were down (three of them killed) and the case was growing serious. The storming party left the fort, and doubled downhill into the firing line, where they poured in volley after blasting volley, killing a Spaniard at each shot, making "a very desperate battle" of it, "our rage increasing with our wounds." No troops could stand such file-firing. The battle became "mere bloody massacre," and the Spaniards were beaten from their posts. Volley after volley shook them, for the pirates "filled every street in the city with dead bodies"; and at last ran in upon them, and clubbed them and cut them down, and penned them in as prisoners. But as the Spaniards under arms were at least twenty times as many as the pirates, there was no taking the city from them. They were beaten from post to post fighting like devils, but the pirates no sooner left a post they had taken, "than they came another way, and manned it again, with new forces and fresh men." The streets were heaped with corpses, yet the Spaniards came on, and came on again, till the sand of the roads was like red mud. At last they were fairly beaten from the chief parts of the town, and numbers of them were penned up as prisoners; more, in fact, than the pirates could guard. The battle paused for a while at this stage, and the pirates took advantage of the lull to get their wounded (perhaps a dozen men), into one of the churches to have their wounds dressed. As the doctors of the party began their work, John Watling sent a message to the fort, charging the garrison to surrender. The soldiers returned no answer, but continued to load their guns, being helped by the armed townsfolk, who now flocked to them in scores. The fort was full of musketeers when the pirates made their second attack a little after noon. At the second attack, John Watling took 100 of his prisoners, placed them in front of his storming party, and forced them forward, as a screen to his men, when he made his charge. The garrison shot down friend and foe indiscriminately, and repulsed the attack, and repulsed a second attack which followed a few minutes later. There was no taking the fort by storm, and the pirates had no great guns with which to batter it. They found, however, that one of the flat-roofed houses in the town, near the fort's outworks, commanded the interior. "We got upon the top of the house," says Ringrose, "and from there fired down into the fort, killing many of their men and wounding them at our ease and pleasure." While they were doing this, a number of the Lima soldiers joined the citizens, and fell, with great fury, upon the prisoners' guards in the town. They easily beat back the few guards, and retook the city. As soon as they had taken the town, they came swarming out to cut off the pirates from their retreat, and to hem them in between the fort and the sea. They were in such numbers that they were able to surround the pirates, who now began to lose men at every volley, and to look about them a little anxiously as they bit their cartridges. From every street in the town came Spanish musketeers at the double, swarm after swarm of them, perhaps a couple of thousand. The pirates left the fort, and turned to the main army, at the same time edging away towards the south, to the hospital, or church, where their wounded men were being dressed. As they moved away from the battlefield, firing as they retreated, old John Watling was shot in the liver with a bullet, and fell dead there, to go buccaneering no more. A moment later "both our quartermasters" fell, with half-a-dozen others, including the boatswain. All this time the cannon of the fort were pounding over them, and the round-shot were striking the ground all about, flinging the sand into their faces. What with the dust and the heat and the trouble of helping the many hurt, their condition was desperate. "So that now the enemy rallying against us, and beating us from place to place, we were in a very distracted condition, and in more likelihood to perish every man than escape the bloodiness of that day. Now we found the words of Captain Sharp to bear a true prophecy, being all very sensible that we had had a day too hot for us, after that cruel heat in killing and murdering in cold blood the old Mestizo Indian whom we had taken prisoner at Yqueque." In fact they were beaten and broken, and the fear of death was on them, and the Spaniards were ringing them round, and the firing was roaring from every point. They were a bloody, dusty, choking gang of desperates, "in great disorder," black with powder, their tongues hanging out with thirst. As they stood grouped together, cursing and firing, some of them asked Captain Sharp to take command, and get them out of that, seeing that Watling was dead, and no one there could give an order. To this request Sharp at last consented, and a retreat was begun, under cover of a fighting rear-guard, "and I hope," says Sharp, "it will not be esteemed a Vanity in me to say, that I was mighty Helpful to facilitate this Retreat." In the midst of a fearful racket of musketry, he fought the pirates through the soldiers to the church where the wounded lay. There was no time, nor was there any conveyance, for the wounded, and they were left lying there, all desperately hurt. The two surgeons could have been saved "but that they had been drinking while we assaulted the fort, and thus would not come with us when they were called." There was no time for a second call, for the Spaniards were closing in on them, and the firing was as fierce as ever. The men were so faint with hunger and thirst, the heat of battle, and the long day's marching, that Sharp feared he would never get them to the boats. A fierce rush of Spaniards beat them away from the hospital, and drove them out of the town "into the Savannas or open fields." The Spaniards gave a cheer and charged in to end the battle, but the pirates were a dogged lot, and not yet at the end of their strength. They got into a clump or cluster, with a few wounded men in the centre, to load the muskets, "resolving to die one by another" rather than to run. They stood firm, cursing and damning the Spaniards, telling them to come on, and calling them a lot of cowards. There were not fifty buccaneers fit to carry a musket, but the forty odd, unhurt men stood steadily, and poured in such withering volleys of shot, with such terrible precision, that the Spanish charge went to pieces. As the charge broke, the pirates plied them again, and made a "bloody massacre" of them, so that they ran to shelter like so many frightened rabbits. The forty-seven had beaten off twenty or thirty times their number, and had won themselves a passage home. There was no question of trying to retake the town. The men were in such misery that the march back to the boats taxed their strength to the breaking point. They set off over the savannah, in as good order as they could, with a wounded man, or two, in every rank of them. As they set forward, a company of horsemen rode out, and got upon their flanks "and fired at us all the way, though they would not come within reach of our guns; for their own reached farther than ours, and out-shot us more than one third." There was great danger of these horsemen cutting in, and destroying them, on the long open rolls of savannah, so Sharp gave the word, and the force shogged westward to the seashore, along which they trudged to the boats. The beach to the south of Arica runs along the coast, in a narrow strip, under cliffs and rocky ground, for several miles. The sand is strewn with boulders, so that the horsemen, though they followed the pirates, could make no concerted charge upon them. Some of them rode ahead of them and got above them on the cliff tops, from which they rolled down "great stones and whole rocks to destroy us." None of these stones did any harm to the pirates, for the cliffs were so rough and broken that the skipping boulders always flew wide of the mark. But though the pirates "escaped their malice for that time," they were yet to run a terrible danger before getting clear away to sea. The Spaniards had been examining, or torturing, the wounded pirates, and the two drunken surgeons, left behind in the town. "These gave them our signs that we had left to our boats [_i.e._ revealed the signals by which the boats were to be called] so that they immediately blew up two smokes, which were perceived by the canoas." Had the pirates "not come at the instant" to the seaside, within hail of the boats, they would have been gone. Indeed they were already under sail, and beating slowly up to the northward, in answer to the signal. Thus, by a lucky chance, the whole company escaped destruction. They lost no time in putting from the shore, where they had met with "so very bad Entertainment." They "got on board about ten a Clock at night; having been involved in a continual and bloody fight ... all that day long." Of the ninety-two, who had landed that morning, twenty-eight had been left ashore, either dead, or as prisoners. Of the sixty-four who got to the canoas, eighteen were desperately wounded, and barely able to walk. Most of the others were slightly hurt, while all were too weary to do anything, save sleep or drink. Of the men left behind in the hospital the Spaniards spared the doctors only; "they being able to do them good service in that country." "But as to the wounded men," says Ringrose, "they were all knocked on the head," and so ended their roving, and came to port where drunken doctors could torture them no longer. The Ylo men denied this; and said that the seven pirates who did not die of their wounds were kept as slaves. The Spanish loss is not known, but it was certainly terrible. The Hilo, or Ylo people, some weeks later, said that seventy Spaniards had been killed and about 200 wounded. All the next day the pirates "plied to and fro in sight of the port," hoping that the Spaniards would man the ships in the bay, and come out to fight. They reinstated Sharp in his command, for they had now "recollected a better Temper," though none of them, it seems, wished for any longer stay in the South Sea. The Arica fight had sickened them of the South Sea, while several of them (including Ringrose) became very ill from the exposure and toil of the battle. They beat to windward, cruising, when they found that the Spaniards would not put to sea to fight them. They met with dirty weather when they had reached the thirtieth parallel, and the foul weather, and their bad fortune made them resolve to leave those seas. At a fo'c's'le council held on the 3rd of March, they determined to put the helm up, and to return to the North Sea. They were short of water and short of food, "having only one cake of bread a day," or perhaps half-a-pound of "doughboy," for their "whack" or allowance. After a few days' running before the wind they came to "the port of Guasco," now Huasco, between Coquimbo and Caldera, a little town of sixty or eighty houses, with copper smeltries, a church, a river, and some sheep-runs. Sixty of the buccaneers went ashore here, that same evening, to get provisions, "and anything else that we could purchase." They passed the night in the church, or "in a churchyard," and in the morning took "120 sheep and fourscore goats," about 200 bushels of corn "ready ground," some fowls, a fat hog, any quantity of fruit, peas, beans, etc., and a small stock of wine. These goods they conveyed aboard as being "fit for our Turn." The inhabitants had removed their gold and silver while the ship came to her anchor, "so that our booty here, besides provisions, was inconsiderable." They found the fat hog "very like our English pork," thereby illustrating the futility of travel; and so sailed away again "to seek greater matters." Before they left, they contrived to fill their water jars in the river, a piece of work which they found troublesome, owing to the height of the banks. [Illustration: _A Description of_ Hilo] From Huasco, where the famous white raisins grow, they sailed to Ylo, where they heard of their mates at Arica, and secured some wine, figs, sugar, and molasses, and some "fruits just ripe and fit for eating," including "extraordinary good Oranges of the China sort" They then coasted slowly northward, till by Saturday, 16th April, they arrived off the island of Plate. Here their old bickerings broke out again, for many of the pirates were disgusted with Sharp, and eager to go home. Many of the others had recovered their spirits since the affair at Arica, and wished to stay in the South Seas, to cruise a little longer. Those who had fought at Arica would not allow Sharp to be deposed a second time, while those who had been shipkeepers on that occasion, were angry that he should have been re-elected. The two parties refused to be reconciled. They quarrelled angrily whenever they came on deck together, and the party spirit ran so high that the company of shipkeepers, the anti-Sharp faction, "the abler and more experienced men," at last refused to cruise any longer under Sharp's command. The fo'c's'le council decided that a poll should be taken, and "that which party soever, upon polling, should be found to have the majority, should keep the ship." The other party was to take the long boat and the canoas. The division was made, and "Captain Sharp's Party carried it." The night was spent in preparing the long boat and the canoas, and the next morning the boats set sail. CHAPTER XV ACROSS THE ISTHMUS The way home--Sufferings and adventures At "about Ten a Clock" in the morning of 17th April 1681, the mutineers went over the side into their "Lanch and Canoas, designing for the River Santa Maria, in the Gulf of St Michael." "We were in number," says Dampier, who was of the party, "44 white Men who bore Arms, a _Spanish Indian_, who bore Arms also; and two _Moskito Indians_," who carried pistols and fish spears. Lionel Wafer "was of Mr Dampier's Side in that Matter," and acted as surgeon to the forty-seven, until he met with his accident. They embarked in the ship's launch or long boat, one canoa "and another Canoa which had been sawn asunder in the middle, in order to have made Bumkins, or Vessels for carrying water, if we had not separated from our Ship." This old canoa they contrived to patch together. For provisions they brought with them "so much Flower as we could well carry"; which "Flower" "we" had been industriously grinding for the last three days. In addition to the "Flower" they had "rubbed up 20 or 30 pound of Chocolate with Sugar to sweeten it." And so provided, they hoisted their little sails and stood in for the shore. "The Sea Breeze came in strong" before they reached the land, so that they had to cut up an old dry hide to make a close-fight round the launch "to keep the Water out." They took a small timber barque the next morning, and went aboard her, and sailed her over to Gorgona, where they scrubbed her bottom. They learned from their prisoners that the Spaniards were on the alert, eagerly expecting them, and cruising the seas with fast advice boats to get a sight of them. Three warships lay at Panama, ready to hunt them whenever the cruisers brought news of their whereabouts. A day or two later, the pirates saw "two great ships," with many guns in their ports, slowly beating to the southward in search of their company. The heavy rain which was falling kept the small timber barque hidden, while the pirates took the precautions of striking sail, and rowing close in shore. "If they had seen and chased us," the pirates would have landed, trusting to the local Indians to make good their escape over the isthmus. After twelve days of sailing they anchored about twenty miles from the San Miguel Gulf, in order to clean their arms, and dry their clothes and powder, before proceeding up the river, by the way they had come. The next morning they set sail into the Gulf, and anchored off an island, intending to search the river's mouth for Spaniards before adventuring farther. As they had feared, a large Spanish man-of-war lay anchored at the river's mouth, "close by the shore," with her guns commanding the entrance. Some of her men could be seen upon the beach, by the door of a large tent, made of the ship's lower canvas. "When the Canoas came aboard with this News," says Dampier, "some of our Men were a little dis-heartned; but it was no more than I ever expected." An hour or two later they took one of the Spaniards from the ship and learned from him that the ship carried twelve great guns, and that three companies of men, with small arms, would join her during the next twenty-four hours. They learned also that the Indians of that district were friendly to the Spaniards. Plainly the pirates were in a dangerous position. "It was not convenient to stay longer there," says Dampier. They got aboard their ship without loss of time, and ran out of the river "with the Tide of Ebb," resolved to get ashore at the first handy creek they came to. Early the next morning they ran into "a small Creek within two Keys, or little Islands, and rowed up to the Head of the Creek, being about a Mile up, and there we landed May 1, 1681." The men flung their food and clothes ashore, and scuttled their little ship, so that she sank at her moorings. While they packed their "Snap-sacks" with flour, chocolate, canisters of powder, beads, and whittles for the Indians, their slaves "struck a plentiful Dish of Fish" for them, which they presently broiled, and ate for their breakfasts. Some of the men scouted on ahead for a mile or two, and then returned with the news that there were no immediate dangers in front of them. Some of the pirates were weak and sick, and "not well able to march." "We," therefore, "gave out, that if any Man faultred in the Journey over Land he must expect to be shot to death; for we knew that the Spaniards would soon be after us, and one Man falling into their hands might be the ruin of us all, by giving an account of our strength and condition: yet this would not deter 'em from going with us." At three that afternoon they set out into the jungle, steering a N.E. course "by our Pocket Compasses." The rain beat upon them all the rest of that day, and all the night long, a drenching and steady downpour, which swamped the "small Hutts" they contrived to patch together. In the morning they struck an old Indian trail, no broader than a horse-girth, running somewhat to the east. They followed it through the forest till they came to an Indian town, where the squaws gave them some corn-drink or miscelaw, and sold them a few fowls and "a sort of wild Hogs." They hired a guide at this village, "to guide us a day's march into the Countrey." "He was to have for his pains a Hatchet, and his Bargain was to bring us to a certain Indians habitation, who could speak Spanish." They paid faithfully for the food the Indians gave them, and shared "all sorts of our Provisions in common, because none should live better than others," and so stand a better chance of crossing the isthmus. When they started out, after a night's rest, one of the pirates, being already sick of the march, slipped away into the jungle, and was seen no more. They found the Spanish-speaking Indian in a bad mood. He swore that he knew no road to the North Sea, but that he could take them to Cheapo, or to Santa Maria, "which we knew to be Spanish Garrisons: either of them at least 20 miles out of our way." He was plainly unwilling to have any truck with them, for "his discourse," was in an angry tone, and he "gave very impertinent answers" to the questions put to him. "However we were forced to make a virtue of necessity, and humour him, for it was neither time nor place to be angry with the Indians; all our lives lying in their hand." The pirates were at their wits' end, for they lay but a few miles from the guard ship, and this surly chief could very well set the Spaniards on them. They tempted him with green and blue beads, with gold and silver, both in the crude and in coin, with beautiful steel axe heads, with machetes, "or long knives"; "but nothing would work on him." The pirates were beginning to despair, when one of them produced "a Sky-coloured Petticoat," and placed it about the person of the chief's favourite wife. How he had become possessed of such a thing, and whether it came from a Hilo beauty, and whether she gave it as a love token, on the ship's sailing, cannot now be known. It may have been an article brought expressly from Jamaica for the fascination of the Indians. But _honi soit qui mal y pense_. The truth of the matter will never be learned. It is sufficient that the man produced it in the very nick of time, and laid the blue tissue over the copper-coloured lady. She was so much pleased with it "that she immediately began to chatter to her Husband, and soon brought him into a better Humour." He relented at once, and said that he knew the trail to the North Sea, and that he would gladly guide them thither were a cut upon his foot healed. As he could not go himself he persuaded another Indian to guide them "2 Days march further for another Hatchet." He tried hard to induce the party to stay with him for the rest of the day as the rain was pouring down in torrents. "But our business required more haste, our Enemies lying so near us, for he told us that he could go from his house aboard the Guard-Ship in a Tides time; and this was the 4th day since they saw us. So we marched 3 Miles further and then built Hutts, where we stayed all Night," with the thatch dripping water on to them in a steady trickle. On taking to the road again, wet and starving as they were, they found themselves in a network of rivers, some thirty of which they had to wade, during the day's march. The heavy rain drenched them as they clambered along across the jungle. They had but a little handful of fire that night, so that they could not dry nor warm themselves. They crouched about the "funk of green-wood," shivering in the smoke, chewing bullets to alleviate their hunger. They slept there in great misery, careless of what happened to them. "The Spaniards were but seldom in our thoughts," says Dampier, for the pirates thought only of guides and food, and feared their own Indian servants more than the enemy. A watch of two pirates kept a guard all that night, with orders to shoot any Indian who showed a sign of treachery. They rose before it was light and pushed on into the woods, biting on the bullet, or the quid, to help them to forget their hunger. By ten o'clock they arrived at the house of a brisk young Indian, who had been a servant to the Bishop of Panama, the man who gave the gold ring to Sawkins. Here they had a feast of yams and sweet potatoes, boiled into a broth with monkey-meat, a great comfort to those who were weak and sickly. They built a great fire in one of the huts, at which they dried their clothes, now falling to pieces from the continual soakings. They also cleaned their rusty gun-locks, and dried their powder, talking cheerily together, about the fire, while the rain roared upon the thatch. They were close beside the Rio Congo "and thus far," says Dampier, the most intelligent man among them, "we might have come in our Canoa, if I could have persuaded them to it." As they sat in the hut, in the warmth of the blaze, that rainy May day, Lionel Wafer met with an accident. He was sitting on the ground, beside one of the pirates, who was drying his powder, little by little, half a pound at a time, in a great silver dish, part of the plunder of the cruise. "A careless Fellow passed by with his Pipe lighted," and dropped some burning crumb of tobacco on to the powder, which at once blew up. It scorched Wafer's knee very terribly, tearing off the flesh from the bone, and burning his leg from the knee to the thigh. Wafer, who was the surgeon of the party, had a bag full of salves and medicines. He managed to dress his wounds, and to pass a fairly comfortable night, "and being unwilling to be left behind by my Companions, I made hard shift to jog on, and bear them Company," when camp was broken at daybreak. Lame as he was, he kept up with his mates all that day, fording rivers "several times," and crossing country which would tax the strongest man, in good condition. "The last time we forded the River, it was so deep, that our tallest Men stood in the deepest place, and handed the sick, weak and short Men"; by which act of comradeship "we all got over safe." Two of the pirates, "Robert Spratlin and William Bowman," could get no farther, and were left behind at the river. Dampier notes that his "Joint of Bambo, which I stopt at both Ends, closing it with Wax, so as to keep out any Water," preserved his "Journal and other Writings from being wet," though he had often to swim for it. Drenched and tired, they pitched their huts by the river-bank, poor Wafer in torment from his knee, and the rest of them hungry and cold. They had hardly finished their huts, when the river came down in a great wall of water, some sudden flood, due to a cloud-burst higher up. The flood sucked away their huts, and forced them to run to higher ground. They passed that night "straggling in the Woods, some under one Tree, some under another," with the thunder roaring overhead, and the lightning making a livid brightness all about them. The rain fell in torrents, and the pirates were far too wretched to keep watch. "So our Slaves, taking Opportunity, went away in the Night; all but one, who was hid in some hole, and knew nothing of their design, or else fell asleep." Among these slaves was a black man, Lionel Wafer's assistant, who carried the salves and medicaments. He took these with him when he slunk away, nor did he forget the "Chirurgeon's Gun and all his Money." He left poor Wafer destitute there, in the forest, "depriv'd of wherewithal to dress my sore." In the morning, they found that the river had fallen, but not so much as they had hoped. It was still too deep to ford, and the current ran very swiftly, but Dampier and some other swimmers managed to swim across. They then endeavoured to get a line over, by which to ferry the men who could not swim, and the arms and powder they had left on the other bank. They decided to send a man back with a line, with instructions to pass the goods first, and then the men. "One George Gayny took the end of a Line and made it fast about his Neck, and left the other end ashore, and one Man stood by the Line, to clear it away to him." When Gayny was about half way across, the line, which was kinky with the wet, got entangled. The man who was lighting it out checked it a moment to take out the kink, or to clear it. The check threw Gayny on his back, "and he that had the Line in his hand," instead of slacking away, or hauling in, so as to bring Gayny ashore, "threw it all into the River after him, thinking he might recover himself." The stream was running down with great fierceness. Gayny had a bag of 300 dollars on his back, and this bag, with the weight of the line, dragged him under. He was carried down, and swept out of sight "and never seen more by us." "This put a period to that contrivance," adds Dampier grimly. As they had no wish to emulate poor Gayny, they sought about "for a Tree to fell across the River." They cut it down, as soon as they had found it, "and it reached clean over." The goods and pirates were then crossed in safety. All hands soon forgot poor Gayny, for they came across a plantain walk in a clearing, and made a good breakfast, and stripped it of every fruit. They dismissed their guide here, with the gift of an axe head, and hired an old Indian to guide them farther towards the North Sea. The next day they reckoned themselves out of danger, and set forth cheerily. For the last two days Wafer had been in anguish from his burnt knee. As the pirates made ready to leave their bivouac, on the tenth morning of the march, he declared that he could not "trudge it further through Rivers and Woods," with his knee as it was. Two other pirates who were broken with the going, declared that they, also, were too tired out to march. There was no talk, among the rest of the band, about shooting the weary ones, according to the order they had made at starting. Instead of "putting them out of their misery," they "took a very kind Leave," giving the broken men such stores as they could spare, and telling them to keep in good heart, and follow on when they had rested. One of Wafer's comrades on this occasion was "Mr Richard Jopson, who had served an Apprenticeship to a Druggist in London. He was an ingenious Man, and a good Scholar; he had with him a Greek Testament which he frequently read, and would translate _extempore_ into _English_, to such of the Company as were dispos'd to hear him." The other weary man was John Hingson, a mariner. They watched their mates march away through the woods, and then turned back, sick at heart, to the shelter of the huts, where the Indians looked at them sulkily, and flung them green plantains, "as you would Bones to a Dog." One of the Indians made a mess of aromatic herbs and dressed Wafer's burn, so that, in three weeks' time, he could walk. Dampier's party marched on through jungle, wading across rivers, which took them up to the chest, staggering through swamps and bogs, and clambering over rotten tree trunks, and across thorn brakes. They were wet and wretched and half starved, for their general food was macaw berries. Sometimes they killed a monkey, once Dampier killed a turkey, and once they came to a plantain patch where "we fed plentifully on plantains, both ripe and green." Their clothes were rotted into shreds, their boots were fallen to pieces, their feet were blistered and raw, their legs were mere skinless ulcers from the constant soaking. Their faces were swelled and bloody from the bites of mosquitoes and wood-ticks. "Not a Man of us but wisht the Journey at an End." Those who have seen "Bad Lands," or what is called "timber," or what is called "bush," will know what the party looked like, when, on the twenty-second day, they saw the North Sea. The day after that they reached the Rio Conception, and drifted down to the sea in some canoas, to an Indian village, built on the beach "for the benefit of Trade with the Privateers." About nine miles away, the Indians told them, was a French privateer ship, under one Captain Tristian, lying at La Sounds Key. They stayed a night at the village, and then went aboard the French ship, which was careened in a creek, with a brushwood fire on her side, cleaning away her barnacles for a roving cruise. Here they parted with their Indian guides, not without sorrow, for it is not pleasant to say "So Long" to folk with whom one has struggled, and lived, and suffered. "We were resolved to reward them to their hearts' Content," said Dampier, much as a cowboy, at the end of the trail, will give sugar to his horse, as he bids him good-bye. The pirates spent their silver royally, buying red, blue and green beads, and knives, scissors, and looking-glasses, from the French pirates. They bought up the entire stock of the French ship, but even then they felt that they had not rewarded their guides sufficiently. They therefore subscribed a half-dollar piece each, in coin, as a sort of makeweight. With the toys, and the bags of silver, the delighted Indians passed back to the isthmus, where they told golden stories of the kind whites, so that the Indians of the Main could not do enough for Wafer, and for the four pirates left behind on the march. Dampier's party had marched in all 110 miles, over the most damnable and heart-breaking country which the mind of man can imagine. They had marched "heavy," with their guns and bags of dollars; and this in the rainy season. They had starved and suffered, and shivered and agonised, yet they had lost but two men, poor Gayny, who was drowned, and (apparently) one who had slipped away on the third day of the march. This man may have been the Spanish Indian. A note in Ringrose's narrative alludes to the capture of one of Dampier's party by the Spanish soldiers, and this may have been the man meant. Two days later, when the Indian guides had gone, and the privateer was fit for the sea, they set sail for "the rendezvous of the fleet," which had been fixed for Springers' Key "another of the Samballoes Isles." Perhaps the English pirates hove up the anchor, the grand privilege of the guests, aboard ship, to the old anchor tune, with its mournful and lovely refrain-- "I'll go no more a-roving with you, fair maid." The old band of never-strikes were outward bound on another foray. As for Wafer, and his two companions, they stayed with the Indians for some days, living on plantains (given very grudgingly), and wondering whether the Indians would kill them. The natives were kindly, as a rule, to the French and English, but it was now the rainy season, when they liked to stay in their huts, about their fires. The pirates "had in a Manner awed the Indian guides they took ... and made them go with them very much against their Wills." The Indians had resented this act of the pirates, and as days went by, and the guides did not return, they judged that the white men had killed them. They prepared "a great Pile of Wood to burn us," says Wafer, meaning to avenge their fellows, whom they "had supposed dead." But a friendly old chief dissuaded them from this act, a few hours before the intended execution. While the three were living thus, in doubt whether they would be speared, or held as slaves, or sold to the Spaniards, the two pirates, Spratlin and Bowman, who had been left behind at the Rio Congo, arrived at the village. They had had a terrible journey together, "among the wild Woods and Rivers," wandering without guides, and living on roots and plantains. On their way, they had come upon George Gayny "lying dead in a Creek where the Eddy had driven him ashore," "with the Rope twisted about him, and his Money at his Neck." They left the body where it lay, with its sack of silver dollars for which the poor man had come so far, and suffered so bitterly. They had no use for dollars at that time "being only in care how to work their way through a wild un-Known Country." After a time, the Indians helped the five men a two days' march on their journey, and then deserted them, leaving them to find the path by themselves, with no better guide than a pocket compass. While crossing a river by the bole of a fallen tree, the man Bowman "a weakly Man, a Taylor by Trade," slipped into the current, and was carried off, with "400 Pieces of Eight" in his satchel. He was luckier than poor Gayny, for he contrived to get out. In time they reached the North Sea, and came to La Sounds Key, according to the prophecy of an Indian wizard. Here they found Dampier's sloop, and rejoined their comrades, to the great delight of all hands. "Mr Wafer wore a clout about him, and was painted like an Indian," so that "'twas the better Part of an Hour, before one of the Crew cry'd out Here's our Doctor." There was a great feast that night at La Sounds Key, much drinking of rum and firing of small arms, and a grand ringing of bells in honour of the happy return. In spite of all they could do, poor Mr Jopson, or Cobson, only lived for three or four days after he reached the ship. "His Fatigues, and his Drenching in the Water" had been too much for the poor man. He lay "languishing" in his cot for a few days, babbling of the drugs of Bucklersbury, and thumbing his Greek Testament, and at last passed in his checks, quietly and sadly, and "died there at La Sounds Key." They buried the poor man in the sands, with very genuine sorrow, and then bade the Indians adieu, and gave their dead mate a volley of guns, and so set sail, with the colours at half-mast, for "the more Eastern Isles of the Samballoes." As for Captain Bartholomew Sharp, in the ship the _Trinity_, he continued to sail the South Seas with the seventy pirates left to him. Some days after Dampier's party sailed, he took a Guayaquil ship, called the _San Pedro_, which he had taken fourteen months before off Panama. Aboard her he found nearly 40,000 pieces of eight, besides silver bars, and ingots of gold. He also took a great ship called the _San Rosario_, the richest ship the buccaneers ever captured. She had many chests of pieces of eight aboard her, and a quantity of wine and brandy. Down in her hold, bar upon bar, "were 700 pigs of plate," rough silver from the mines, not yet fitted for the Lima mint. The pirates thought that this crude silver was tin, and so left it where it lay, in the hold of the _Rosario_ "which we turned away loose into the sea," with the stuff aboard her. One pig of the 700 was brought aboard the pirates "to make bullets of." About two-thirds of it was "melted and squandered," but some of it was left long afterwards, when the _Trinity_ touched at Antigua. Here they gave what was left to "a Bristol man," probably in exchange for a dram of rum. The Bristol man took it home to England "and sold it there for £75 sterling." "Thus," said Ringrose, "we parted with the richest booty we got in the whole voyage." Captain Bartholomew Sharp was responsible for the turning adrift of all this silver. Some of the pirates had asked leave to hoist it aboard the _Trinity_. But it chanced that, aboard the _Rosario_, was a Spanish lady, "the beautifullest Creature" that the "Eyes" of Captain Sharp ever beheld. The amorous captain was so inflamed by this beauty that he paid no attention to anything else. In a very drunken and quarrelsome condition, the pirates worked the _Trinity_ round the Horn, and so home to Barbadoes. They did not dare to land there, for one of the King's frigates, H.M.S. _Richmond_, was lying at Bridgetown, and the pirates "feared lest the said frigate should seize us." They bore away to Antigua, where Ringrose, and "thirteen more," shipped themselves for England. They landed at Dartmouth on the 26th of March 1682. A few more of the company went ashore at Antigua, and scattered to different haunts. Sharp and a number of pirates landed at Nevis, from whence they shipped for London. The ship the _Trinity_ was left to seven of the gang who had diced away all their money. What became of her is not known. Sharp and a number of his men were arrested in London, and tried for piracy, but the Spanish Ambassador, who brought the charge, was without evidence and could not obtain convictions. They pleaded that "the Spaniards fired at us first," and that they had acted only in self-defence, so they 'scaped hanging, though Sharp admits that they "were very near it." Three more of the crew were laid by the heels at Jamaica, and one of these was "wheedled into an open confession," and condemned, and hanged. "The other two stood it out, and escaped for want of witnesses." Of the four men so often quoted in this narrative, only one, so far as we know, died a violent death. This was Basil Ringrose, who was shot at Santa Pecaque a few years later. It is not known how Dampier, Wafer, and Sharp died, but all lived adventurously, and went a-roving, for many years after the _Trinity_ dropped her anchor off Antigua. They were of that old breed of rover whose port lay always a little farther on; a little beyond the sky-line. Their concern was not to preserve life, "but rather to squander it away"; to fling it, like so much oil, into the fire, for the pleasure of going up in a blaze. If they lived riotously let it be urged in their favour that at least they lived. They lived their vision. They were ready to die for what they believed to be worth doing. We think them terrible. Life itself is terrible. But life was not terrible to them; for they were comrades; and comrades and brothers-in-arms are stronger than life. Those who "live at home at ease" may condemn them. They are free to do so. The old buccaneers were happier than they. The buccaneers had comrades, and the strength to live their own lives. They may laugh at those who, lacking that strength, would condemn them with the hate of impotence. CHAPTER XVI SHIPS AND RIGS Galleys--Dromonds--Galliasses--Pinnaces--Pavesses--Top-arming-- Banners--Boats Until the reign of Henry VIII. the shipping of these islands was of two kinds. There were longships, propelled, for the most part, by oars, and used generally as warships; and there were roundships, or dromonds, propelled by sails, and used as a rule for the carriage of freight. The dromond, in war-time, was sometimes converted into a warship, by the addition of fighting-castles fore and aft. The longship, in peace time, was no doubt used as a trader, as far as her shallow draught, and small beam, allowed. The longship, or galley, being, essentially, an oar vessel, had to fulfil certain simple conditions. She had to be light, or men might not row her. She had to be long, or she might not carry enough oarsmen to propel her with sufficient swiftness. Her lightness, and lack of draught, made it impossible for her to carry much provision; while the number of her oars made it necessary for her to carry a large crew of rowers, in addition to her soldiers and sail trimmers. It was therefore impossible for such a ship to keep the seas for any length of time, even had their build fitted them for the buffetings of the stormy home waters. For short cruises, coast work, rapid forays, and "shock tactics," she was admirable; but she could not stray far from a friendly port, nor put out in foul weather. The roundship, dromond, or cargo boat, was often little more than two beams long, and therefore far too slow to compete with ships of the galley type. She could stand heavy weather better than the galley, and she needed fewer hands, and could carry more provisions, but she was almost useless as a ship of war. In the reign of Henry VIII. the shipwrights of this country began to build ships which combined something of the strength, and capacity of the dromond, with the length and fineness of the galley. The ships they evolved were mainly dependent upon their sails, but they carried a bank of oars on each side, for use in light weather. The galley, or longship, had carried guns on a platform at the bows, pointing forward. But these new vessels carried guns in broadside, in addition to the bow-chasers. These broadside guns were at first mounted _en barbette_, pointing over the bulwarks. Early in the sixteenth century the port-hole, with a hinged lid, was invented, and the guns were then pointed through the ship's sides. As these ships carried more guns than the galleys, they were built more strongly, lest the shock of the explosions should shake them to pieces. They were strong enough to keep the seas in bad weather, yet they had enough of the galley build to enable them to sail fast when the oars were laid inboard. It is thought that they could have made as much as four or five knots an hour. These ships were known as galliasses,[18] and galleons, according to the proportions between their lengths and beams. The galleons were shorter in proportion to their breadth than the galliasses.[19] There was another kind of vessel, the pinnace, which had an even greater proportionate length than the galliasse. Of the three kinds, the galleon, being the shortest in proportion to her breadth, was the least fitted for oar propulsion. [Footnote 18: See Charnock's "Marine Architecture."] [Footnote 19: See Corbett's "Drake and the Tudor Navy."] [Illustration: AN ELIZABETHAN GALLEON] During the reign of Elizabeth, the galleon, or great ship, and the galliasse, or cruiser, grew to gradual perfection, in the hands of our great sailors. If we look upon the galleon or great ship as the prototype of the ship of the line, and on the galliasse as the prototype of the frigate, and on the pinnace as the prototype of the sloop, or corvette, we shall not be far wrong. They were, of course, in many ways inferior to the ships which fought in the great French wars, two centuries later, but their general appearance was similar. The rig was different, but not markedly so, while the hulls of the ships presented many points of general likeness. The Elizabethan ships were, however, very much smaller than most of the rated ships in use in the eighteenth century. [Illustration: A GALLIASSE] The galleon, or great ship, at the end of the sixteenth century, was sometimes of as much as 900 tons. She was generally low in the waist, with a high square forecastle forward, a high quarter-deck, raised above the waist, just abaft the main-mast, and a poop above the quarter-deck, sloping upward to the taffrail. These high outerworks were shut off from the open waist (the space between the main-mast and the forecastle) by wooden bulkheads, which were pierced for small, quick-firing guns. Below the upper, or spar deck, she had a gun-deck, if not more than one, with guns on each side, and right aft. The galliasse was sometimes flush-decked, without poop and forecastle, and sometimes built with both, but she was never so "high charged" as the galleon. The pinnace was as the galliasse, though smaller. The galleon's waist was often without bulwarks, so that when she went into action it became necessary to give her sail trimmers, and spar-deck fighting men, some protection from the enemy's shot.[20] Sometimes this was done by the hauling up of waist-trees, or spars of rough untrimmed timber, to form a sort of wooden wall. Sometimes they rigged what was called a top-arming, or top armour, a strip of cloth like the "war girdle" of the Norse longships, across the unprotected space. This top-arming was of canvas some two bolts deep (3 feet 6 inches), gaily painted in designs of red, yellow, green, and white. It gave no protection against shot, but it prevented the enemy's gunners from taking aim at the deck, or from playing upon the hatchways with their murderers and pateraroes. It also kept out boarders, and was a fairly good shield to catch the arrows and crossbow bolts shot from the enemy's tops. Sometimes the top-arming was of scantling, or thin plank, in which case it was called a pavesse. Pavesses were very beautifully painted with armorial bearings, arranged in shields, a sort of reminiscence of the old Norse custom of hanging the ship's sides with shields. Another way was to mask the open space with a ranged hemp cable, which could be cleared away after the fight. [Footnote 20: See Sir W. Monson, "Naval Tracts," and Sir R. Hawkins, "Observations," etc.] The ships were rigged much as they were rigged two centuries later. The chief differences were in the rigging of the bowsprit and of the two after masts. Forward the ships had bowsprits, on which each set a spritsail, from a spritsail yard. The foremast was stepped well forward, almost over the spring of the cutwater. Generally, but not always, it was made of a single tree (pine or fir). If it was what was known as "a made mast," it was built up of two, or three, or four, different trees, judiciously sawn, well seasoned, and then hooped together. Masts were pole-masts until early in the reign of Elizabeth, when a fixed topmast was added. By Drake's time they had learned that a movable topmast was more useful, and less dangerous for ships sailing in these waters. The caps and tops were made of elm wood. The sails on the foremast were foresail and foretop-sail, the latter much the smaller and less important of the two. They were set on wooden yards, the foreyard and foretopsail-yard, both of which could be sent on deck in foul weather. The main-mast was stepped a little abaft the beam, and carried three sails, the main-sail, the main topsail, and a third, the main topgallant-sail. This third sail did not set from a yard until many years after its introduction. It began life like a modern "moon-raker," a triangular piece of canvas, setting from the truck, or summit of the topmast, to the yardarm of the main topsail-yard. Up above it, on a bending light pole, fluttered the great colours, a George's cross of scarlet on a ground of white. Abaft the main-mast were the mizzen, carrying one sail, on a lateen yard, one arm of which nearly touched the deck; and the bonaventure mizzen (which we now call the jigger) rigged in exactly the same way. Right aft, was a banner pole for the display of colours. These masts were stepped, stayed, and supported almost exactly as masts are rigged to-day, though where we use iron, and wire, they used wood and hemp. The shrouds of the fore and main masts led outboard, to "chains" or strong platforms projecting from the ship's sides. These "chains" were clamped to the ship's sides with rigid links of iron. The shrouds of the after masts were generally set up within the bulwarks. On each mast, just above the lower yard, yet below the masthead, was a fighting-top built of elm wood and gilded over. It was a little platform, resting on battens, and in ancient times it was circular, with a diameter of perhaps six or seven feet. It had a parapet round it, inclining outboard, perhaps four feet in height. It was entered by a lubber's hole in the flooring, through which the shrouds passed. In each top was an arm chest containing Spanish darts, crossbows, longbows, arrows, bolts, and perhaps granadoes. When the ship went into battle a few picked marksmen were stationed in the tops with orders to search the enemy's decks with their missiles, particularly the afterparts, where the helmsman stood. In later days the tops were armed with light guns, of the sorts known as slings and fowlers; but top-fighting with firearms was dangerous, as the gunners carried lighted matches, and there was always a risk of sparks, from the match, or from the wads, setting fire to the sails. The running rigging was arranged much as running rigging is arranged to-day, though its quality, in those times, was probably worse than nowadays. The rope appears to have been very fickle stuff which carried away under slight provocation. The blocks were bad, for the sheaves were made of some comparatively soft wood, which swelled, when wet, and jammed. Lignum vitæ was not used for block-sheaves until after the Dutch War in Cromwell's time. Iron blocks were in use in the time of Henry VIII. but only as fair-leads for chain topsail sheets, and as snatches for the boarding of the "takkes." The shrouds and stays, were of hawser stuff, extremely thick nine-stranded hemp; and all those parts exposed to chafing (as from a sail, or a rope) were either served, or neatly covered up with matting. The matting was made by the sailors, of rope, or white line, plaited curiously. When in its place it was neatly painted, or tarred, much as one may see it in Norwegian ships at the present day. The yardarms, and possibly the chains, were at one time fitted with heavy steel sickles, projecting outboard, which were kept sharp, so that, when running alongside an enemy, they might cut her rigging to pieces. These sickles were known as sheer-hooks. They were probably of little use, for they became obsolete before the end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. [Illustration: AN ELIZABETHAN GALLEON] Most of the sails used in these old ships were woven in Portsmouth on hand-looms. The canvas was probably of good quality, as good perhaps as the modern stout No. 1, for hand-woven stuff is always tighter, tougher, better put together, than that woven by the big steam-loom. It was at one time the custom to decorate the sail, with a design of coloured cloth, cut out, as one cuts out a paper pattern, and stitched upon its face with sail twine. In the royal ships this design was of lions rampant, cut out of scarlet say. The custom of carrying such coloured canvas appears to have died out by the end of the sixteenth century. Perhaps flag signalling had come into vogue making it necessary to abandon anything that might tend to confuse the colours. About the same time we abandoned the custom of making our ships gay with little flags, of red and white linen, in guidons like those on a trooper's lance. All through the Tudor reigns our ships carried them, but for some reason the practice was allowed to die out. A last relic of it still flutters on blue water in the little ribbons of the wind-vane, on the weather side the poop, aboard sailing ships. The great ship carried three boats, which were stowed on chocks in the waist, just forward of the main-mast, one inside the other when not in use. The boats were, the long boat, a large, roomy boat with a movable mast; the cock, cog or cok boat, sometimes called the galley-watt; and the whale, or jolly boat, a sort of small balenger, with an iron-plated bow, which rowed fourteen oars. It was the custom to tow one or more of these boats astern, when at sea, except in foul weather, much as one may see a brig, or a topsail schooner, to-day, with a dinghy dragging astern. The boat's coxswain stayed in her as she towed, making her clean, fending her off, and looking out for any unfortunate who chanced to fall overboard. _Authorities._--W. Charnock: "History of Marine Architecture." Julian Corbett: "Drake and the Tudor Navy." A. Jal: "Archeologie Navale"; "Glossaire Nautique." Sir W. Monson: "Naval Tracts." Sir H. Nicholas: "History of the Royal Navy." M. Oppenheim: "History of the Administration of the Royal Navy"; "Naval Inventories of the Reign of Henry VII." CHAPTER XVII GUNS AND GUNNERS Breech-loaders--Cartridges--Powder--The gunner's art Cannon were in use in Europe, it is thought, in the eleventh century; for the art of making gunpowder came westward, from China, much earlier than people have supposed. It is certain that gunpowder was used "in missiles," before it was used to propel them. The earliest cannon were generally of forged iron built in strips secured by iron rings. They were loaded by movable chambers which fitted into the breech, and they were known as "crakys of war." We find them on English ships at the end of the fourteenth century, in two kinds, the one a cannon proper, the other an early version of the harquebus-a-croc. The cannon was a mere iron tube, of immense strength, bound with heavy iron rings. The rings were shrunken on to the tube in the ordinary way. The tube, when ready, was bolted down to a heavy squared beam of timber on the ship's deck. It was loaded by the insertion of the "gonne-chambre," an iron pan, containing the charge, which fitted into, and closed the breech. This gonne-chambre was wedged in firmly by a chock of elm wood beaten in with a mallet. Another block of wood, fixed in the deck behind it, kept it from flying out with any violence when the shot was fired. Cannon of this sort formed the main armament of ships until after the reign of Henry the Eighth. They fired stone cannon-balls, "pellettes of lead, and dyce of iron." Each gun had some half-dozen chambers, so that the firing from them may have been rapid, perhaps three rounds a minute. The powder was not kept loose in tubs, near the guns, but neatly folded in conical cartridges, made of canvas or paper (or flannel) which practice prevailed for many years. All ships of war carried "pycks for hewing stone-shott," though after 1490, "the iron shott callyd bowletts," and their leaden brothers, came into general use. The guns we have described, were generally two or four pounders, using from half-a-pound, to a pound and a quarter, of powder, at each discharge. The carriage, or bed, on which they lay, was usually fitted with wheels at the rear end only. The other early sea-cannon, which we have mentioned, were also breech-loading. They were mounted on a sort of iron wheel, at the summit of a stout wooden staff, fixed in the deck, or in the rails of the poop and forecastle. They were of small size, and revolved in strong iron pivot rings, so that the man firing them might turn them in any direction he wished. They were of especial service in sweeping the waist, the open spar-deck, between the breaks of poop and forecastle, when boarders were on board. They threw "base and bar-shot to murder near at hand"; but their usual ball was of stone, and for this reason they were called petrieroes, and petrieroes-a-braga. The harquebus-a-croc, a weapon almost exactly similar, threw small cross-bar shot "to cut Sails and Rigging." In Elizabethan times it was carried in the tops of fighting ships, and on the rails and gunwales of merchantmen. In the reign of Henry VIII., a ship called the _Mary Rose_, of 500 tons, took part in the battle with the French, in St Helens Roads, off Brading. It was a sultry summer day, almost windless, when the action began, and the _Mary Rose_ suffered much (being unable to stir) from the gun-fire of the French galleys. At noon, when a breeze sprang up, and the galleys drew off, the _Mary Rose_ sent her men to dinner. Her lower ports, which were cut too low down, were open, and the wind heeled her over, so that the sea rushed in to them. She sank in deep water, in a few moments, carrying with her her captain, and all the gay company on board. In 1836 some divers recovered a few of her cannon, of the kinds we have described, some of brass, some of iron. The iron guns had been painted red and black. Those of brass, in all probability, had been burnished, like so much gold. These relics may be seen by the curious, at Woolwich, in the Museum of Ordnance, to which they were presented by their salver. In the reign of Elizabeth, cannon were much less primitive, for a great advance took place directly men learned the art of casting heavy guns. Until 1543, they had forged them; a painful process, necessarily limited to small pieces. After that year they cast them round a core, and by 1588 they had evolved certain general types of ordnance which remained in use, in the British Navy, almost unchanged, until after the Crimean War. The Elizabethan breech-loaders, and their methods, have now been described, but a few words may be added with reference to the muzzle-loaders. The charge for these was contained in cartridges, covered with canvas, or "paper royall" (_i.e._ parchment), though the parchment used to foul the gun at each discharge. Burning scraps of it remained in the bore, so that, before reloading, the weapon had to be "wormed," or scraped out, with an instrument like an edged corkscrew. A tampion, or wad, of oakum or the like, was rammed down between the cartridge and the ball, and a second wad kept the ball in place. When the gun was loaded the gunner filled the touch-hole with his priming powder, from a horn he carried in his belt, after thrusting a sharp wire, called the priming-iron, down the touch-hole, through the cartridge, so that the priming powder might have direct access to the powder of the charge. He then sprinkled a little train of powder along the gun, from the touch-hole to the base-ring, for if he applied the match directly to the touch-hole the force of the explosion was liable to blow his linstock from his hand. In any case the "huff" or "spit" of fire, from the touch-hole, burned little holes, like pock-marks, in the beams overhead. The match was applied smartly, with a sharp drawing back of the hand, the gunner stepping quickly aside to avoid the recoil. He stepped back, and stood, on the side of the gun opposite to that on which the cartridges were stored, so that there might be no chance of a spark from his match setting fire to the ammunition. Spare match, newly soaked in saltpetre water, lay coiled in a little tub beside the gun. The cartridges, contained in latten buckets, were placed in a barrel by the gun and covered over with a skin of leather. The heavy shot were arranged in shot racks, known as "gardens," and these were ready to the gunner's hand, with "cheeses" of tampions or wads. The wads were made of soft wood, oakum, hay, straw, or "other such like." The sponges and rammers were hooked to the beams above the gun ready for use. The rammers were of hard wood, shod with brass, "to save the Head from cleaving." The sponges were of soft fast wood, "As Aspe, Birch, Willow, or such like," and had heads covered with "rough Sheepes skinne wooll," nailed to the staff with "Copper nayles." "Ladels," or powder shovels, for the loading of guns, were seldom used at sea. The guns were elevated or depressed by means of handspikes and quoins. Quoins were blocks of wood, square, and wedge-shaped, with ring-hooks screwed in them for the greater ease of handling. Two of the gun's crew raised the base of the cannon upon their handspikes, using the "steps" of the gun carriage as their fulcra. A third slid a quoin along the "bed" of the carriage, under the gun, to support it at the required height. The recoil of the gun on firing, was often very violent, but it was limited by the stout rope called the breeching, which ran round the base of the gun, from each side of the port-hole, and kept it from running back more than its own length. When it had recoiled it was in the position for sponging and loading, being kept from running out again, with the roll of the ship, by a train, or preventer tackle, hooked to a ring-bolt in amidships. In action, particularly in violent action, the guns became very hot, and "kicked" dangerously. Often they recoiled with such force as to overturn, or to snap the breeching, or to leap up to strike the upper beams. Brass guns were more skittish than iron, but all guns needed a rest of two or three hours, if possible, after continual firing for more than eight hours at a time. To cool a gun in action, to keep it from bursting, or becoming red-hot, John Roberts advises sponging "with spunges wet in ley and water, or water and vinegar, or with the coolest fresh or salt water, bathing and washing her both within and without." This process "if the Service is hot, as it was with us at Bargen" should be repeated, "every eighth or tenth shot." The powder in use for cannon was called Ordnance or Corne-powder. It was made in the following proportion. To every five pounds of refined saltpetre, one pound of good willow, or alder, charcoal, and one pound of fine yellow sulphur. The ingredients were braised together in a mortar, moistened with water distilled of orange rinds, or aqua-vitæ, and finally dried and sifted. It was a bright, "tawny blewish colour" when well made. Fine powder, for muskets or priming seems to have had a greater proportion of saltpetre. The Naval Tracts of Sir W. Monson, contain a list of the sorts of cannon mounted in ships of the time of Queen Elizabeth. It is not exhaustive, but as Robert Norton and Sir Jonas Moore give similar lists, the curious may check the one with the other. Weight Weight Weight Point Length Bore of of of Blank Random in Cannon Shot Powder Range Feet ins. lb. lb. lb. paces paces Cannon Royal or Double Cannon 8½ 8000 66 30 800 1930 M.L. 12 Cannon or Whole Cannon 8 6000 60 27 770 2000 " 11 Cannon Serpentine 7 5500 53½ 25 200 2000 " 10 Bastard Cannon 7 4500 41½ 20 180 1800 " 10 Demi-Cannon 6½-7 4000 33½ 18 170 1700 " 10 Cannon Petro or Cannon Perier 6 4000 24½ 14 160 1600 " 4 Culverin 5-5½ 4500 17½ 12 200 2500 " 13 Basilisk 5 4000 15 10 230 3000 " 4 Demi-Culverin 4 3400 9½ 8 200 2500 " 11 Bastard Culverin 4 3000 7 5¾ 170 1700 " 11 Saker 3½ 1400 5½ 5½ 170 1700 " 9 or 10 Minion 3½ 1000 4 4 170 1700 " 8 Falcon 2½ 660 3 3 150 1500 " 7 Falconet 2 500 1½ 1¼ 150 1500 " 6½ Serpentine 1½ 400 ¾ ¾ 140 1400 " 4½ Rabinet 1 300 ½ ½ 120 1000 " 2½ To these may be added bases, port pieces, stock fowlers, slings, half slings, and three-quarter slings, breech-loading guns ranging from five and a half to one-inch bore. Other firearms in use in our ships at sea were the matchlock musket, firing a heavy double bullet, and the harquabuse[21] or arquebus, which fired a single bullet. The musket was a heavy weapon, and needed a rest, a forked staff, to support the barrel while the soldier aimed. This staff the musketeer lashed to his wrist, with a cord, so that he might drag it after him from place to place. The musket was fired with a match, which the soldier lit from a cumbrous pocket fire-carrier. The harquabuse was a lighter gun, which was fired without a rest, either by a wheel-lock (in which a cog-wheel, running on pyrites, caused sparks to ignite the powder), or by the match and touch-hole. Hand firearms were then common enough, and came to us from Italy, shortly after 1540. They were called Daggs. They were wheel-locks, wild in firing, short, heavy, and beautifully wrought. Sometimes they carried more than one barrel, and in some cases they were made revolving. They were most useful in a hand-to-hand encounter, as with footpads, or boarders; but they were useless at more than ten paces. A variation from them was the hand-cannon or blunderbuss, with a bell-muzzle, which threw rough slugs or nails. In Elizabethan ships the musketeers sometimes fired short, heavy, long-headed, pointed iron arrows from their muskets, a missile which flew very straight, and penetrated good steel armour. They had also an infinity of subtle fireworks, granadoes and the like, with which to set their opponents on fire. These they fired from the bombard pieces, or threw from the tops, or cage-works. Crossbows and longbows went to sea, with good store of Spanish bolts and arrows, until the end of Elizabeth's reign, though they were, perhaps, little used after 1590. The gunner had charge of them, and as, in a way, the gunner was a sort of second captain, sometimes taking command of the ship, we cannot do better than to quote from certain old books concerning his duties on board. Mr W. Bourne, the son of an eminent mathematician, has left a curious little book on "The Arte of Shooting in Great Ordnance," first published in London, in 1587, the year before the Armada. Its author, W. Bourne, was at one time a gunner of the bulwark at Gravesend. The art of shooting in great guns did not improve very much during the century following; nor did the guns change materially. The breech-loading, quick-firing guns fell out of use as the musket became more handy; but otherwise the province of the gunner changed hardly at all. It is not too much to say that gunners of Nelson's time, might have studied some of Bourne's book with profit. [Footnote 21: or caliver.] "As for gunners that do serve by the Sea, [they] must observe this order following. First that they do foresee that all their great Ordnannce be fast breeched, and foresee that all their geare be handsome and in a readinesse. & Furthermore that they be very circumspect about their Pouder in the time of service, and especially beware of their lint stockes & candels for feare of their Pouder, & their fireworks, & their Ducum [or priming powder], which is very daungerous, and much to be feared. Then furthermore, that you do keep your peeces as neer as you can, dry within, and also that you keep their tutch-holes cleane, without any kind of drosse falling into them." The gunners were also to know the "perfect dispart" of their pieces: that is they were to make a calculation which would enable them in sighting, to bring "the hollow of the peece," not the outer muzzle rim, "right against the marke." In the case of a breech-loader this could not be done by art, with any great exactness, "but any reasonable man (when he doth see the peece and the Chamber) may easily know what he must doe, as touching those matters." In fighting at sea, in anything like a storm, with green seas running, so that "the Shippes do both heave and set" the gunner was to choose a gun abaft the main-mast, on the lower orlop, "if the shippe may keepe the porte open," as in that part of the vessel the motion would be least apparent. "Then if you doe make a shotte at another Shippe, you must be sure to have a good helme-man, that can stirre [steer] steady, taking some marke of a Cloude that is above by the Horizon, or by the shadowe of the Sunne, or by your standing still, take some marke of the other shippe through some hole, or any such other like. Then he that giveth levell [takes aim] must observe this: first consider what disparte his piece must have, then lay the peece directly with that parte of the Shippe that he doth meane to shoote at: then if the Shippe bee under the lee side of your Shippe, shoote your peece in the comming downe of the Gayle, and the beginning of the other Ship to rise upon the Sea, as near as you can, for this cause, for when the other shippe is aloft upon the Sea, and shee under your Lee, the Gayle maketh her for to head, and then it is likest to do much good." The helmsman also was to have an eye to the enemy, to luff when she luffed, and "putte roomer," or sail large, when he saw her helmsman put the helm up. If the enemy made signs that she was about to lay the ship aboard, either by loosing more sail, or altering her course, the gunner had to remember certain things. "If the one doe meane to lay the other aboorde, then they do call up their company either for to enter or to defend: and first, if that they doe meane for to enter ... then marke where that you doe see anye Scottles for to come uppe at, as they will stande neere thereaboutes, to the intente for to be readie, for to come uppe under the Scottles: there give levell with your Fowlers, or Slinges, or Bases, for there you shall be sure to do moste good, then further more, if you doe meane for to enter him, then give level with your fowlers and Port peeces, where you doe see his chiefest fight of his Shippe is, and especially be sure to have them charged, and to shoote them off at the first boording of the Shippes, for then you shall be sure to speede. And furthermore, mark where his men have most recourse, then discharge your Fowlers and Bases. And furthermore for the annoyance of your enemie, if that at the boording that the Shippes lye therefore you may take away their steeradge with one of your great peeces, that is to shoote at his Rother, and furthermore at his mayne maste and so foorth." The ordering of cannon on board a ship was a matter which demanded a nice care. The gunner had to see that the carriages were so made as to allow the guns to lie in the middle of the port. The carriage wheels, or trocks, were not to be too high, for if they were too high they hindered the mariners, when they ran the cannon out in action (_Norton_, _Moore_, _Bourne_, _Monson_). Moreover, if the wheels were very large, and the ship were heeled over, the wheel rims would grind the ship's side continually, unless large skids were fitted to them. And if the wheels were large they gave a greater fierceness to the impetus of the recoil, when the piece was fired. The ports were to be rather "deepe uppe and downe" than broad in the traverse, and it was very necessary that the lower port-sill should not be too far from the deck, "for then the carriage muste bee made verye hygh, and that is verye evill" (_Bourne_). The short cannon were placed low down, at the ship's side, because short cannon were more easily run in, and secured, when the ports were closed, owing to the ship's heeling, or the rising of the sea. A short gun, projecting its muzzle through the port, was also less likely to catch the outboard tackling of the sails, such as "Sheetes and Tackes, or the Bolynes." And for these reasons any very long guns were placed astern, or far forward, as bow, or stern chasers. It was very necessary that the guns placed at the stern should be long guns, for the tall poops of the galleons overhung the sea considerably. If the gun, fired below the overhang, did not project beyond the woodwork, it was liable to "blowe up the Counter of the Shyppes Sterne," to the great detriment of gilt and paint. Some ships cut their stern ports down to the deck, and continued the deck outboard, by a projecting platform. The guns were run out on to this platform, so that the muzzles cleared the overhang. These platforms were the originals of the quarter-galleries, in which, some centuries later, the gold-laced admirals took the air (_Bourne_). Sir Jonas Moore, who published a translation of Moretti's book on artillery, in 1683, added to his chapters some matter relating to sea-gunners, from the French of Denis Furnier. "The Gunner, whom they call in the _Straights Captain_, _Master-Canoneer_, and in _Bretagne_ and _Spain_, and in other places _Connestable_, is one of the principal Officers in the Ship; it is he alone with the Captain who can command the Gunners. He ought to be a man of courage, experience, and vigilant, who knows the goodness of a Peece of Ordnance, the force of Powder, and who also knows how to mount a Peece of Ordnance upon its carriage, and to furnish it with Bolts, Plates, Hooks, Capsquares [to fit over the Trunnions on which the gun rested] Axletrees and Trucks, and that may not reverse too much; to order well its Cordage as Breeching [which stopped the recoil] and Tackling [by which it was run out or in]; to plant the Cannon to purpose in the middle of its Port; to know how to unclow[22] it [cast it loose for action], make ready his Cartridges, and to have them ready to pass from hand to hand through the Hatches, and to employ his most careful men in that affair; that he have care of all, that, he be ready everywhere to assist where necessity shall be; and take care that all be made to purpose. [Footnote 22: This word unclow may be a misprint for uncloy. To uncloy was to get rid of the spike, or soft metal nail, thrust into a piece's touch-hole by an enemy. It was done by oiling the spike all over, so as to make it "glib," and then blowing it out, from within, by a train of powder.] "He and his Companions [the gunner's mates] ought with their dark Lanthornes continually to see if the Guns play, and if the Rings in Ships do not shake." (That is, a strict watch was to be kept, at night, when at sea in stormy weather, to see that the cannon did not work or break loose, and that the ring-bolts remained firm in their places.) "If there be necessity of more Cordage, and to see that the Beds and Coins be firm and in good order; when the Ship comes to Anker, he furnisheth Cordage, and takes care that all his Companions take their turn [stand their watch] and quarters, that continually every evening they renew their priming Powder [a horn of fine dry powder poured into the touch-holes of loaded cannon, to communicate the fire to the charge], and all are obliged to visit their Cannon Powder every eight dayes, to see if it hath not receiv'd wet, although they be well stopped a top with Cork and Tallow; to see that the Powder-Room be kept neat and clean, and the Cartridges ranged in good order, each nature or Calibre by itself, and marked above in great Letters the weight of the Powder and nature of the Peece to which it belongs, and to put the same mark over the Port-hole of the Peece; that the Linstocks [_or forked staves of wood, about two and a half feet long, on which the match was carried_] be ready, and furnished with Match [_or cotton thread, boiled in ashes-lye and powder, and kept smouldering, with a red end, when in use_], and to have alwaies one lighted, and where the Cannoneer makes his Quarter to have two one above another below [_this last passage is a little obscure, but we take it to mean that at night, when the gunner slept in his cabin, a lighted match was to be beside him, but that in the gun-decks below and above his cabin (which was in the half-deck) lit matches were to be kept ready for immediate use, by those who kept watch_], that his Granadoes [_black clay, or thick glass bottles, filled with priming powder, and fired by a length of tow, well soaked in saltpetre water_] and Firepots [_balls of hard tar, sulphur-meal and rosin, kneaded together and fired by a priming of bruised powder_] be in readiness, and 3 or 400 Cartridges ready fill'd, Extrees [?] and Trucks [_wheels_] to turn often over the Powder Barrels that the Powder do not spoil; to have a care of Rings [_ring-bolts_] and of the Ports [he here means port-lids] that they have their Pins and small Rings." Sir William Monson adds that the gunner was to acquaint himself with the capacities of every known sort of firearm, likely to be used at sea. He also gives some professional hints for the guidance of gunners. He tells us (and Sir Richard Hawkins confirms him) that no sea-cannon ought to be more than seven or eight feet long; that they ought not to be taper-bored, nor honey-combed within the bore, and that English ordnance, the best in Europe, was sold in his day for twelve pounds a ton. In Boteler's time the gunner commanded a gang, or crew, who ate and slept in the gun-room, which seems in those days to have been the magazine. He had to keep a careful account of the expenditure of his munitions, and had orders "not to make any shot without the Knowledge and order of the captain." _Authorities._--N. Boteler: "Six Dialogues." W. Bourne: "The Art of Shooting in Great Ordnance"; "Regiment for the Sea"; "Mariner's Guide." Sir W. Monson: "Naval Tracts." Sir Jonas Moore. R. Norton: "The Gunner." John Roberts: "Complete Cannoneer." CHAPTER XVIII THE SHIP'S COMPANY Captain--Master--Lieutenant--Warrant officers--Duties and privileges By comparing Sir Richard Hawkins' "Observations" and Sir W. Monson's "Tracts" with Nicolas Boteler's "Dialogical Discourses," we find that the duties of ship's officers changed hardly at all from the time of the Armada to the death of James I. Indeed they changed hardly at all until the coming of the steamship. In modern sailing ships the duties of some of the supernumeraries are almost exactly as they were three centuries ago. The captain was the supreme head of the ship, empowered to displace any inferior officer except the master (_Monson_). He was not always competent to navigate (_ibid._), but as a rule he had sufficient science to check the master's calculations. He was expected to choose his own lieutenant (_ibid._), to keep a muster-book, and a careful account of the petty officer's stores (_Monson_ and _Sir Richard Hawkins_), and to punish any offences committed by his subordinates. A lieutenant seems to have been unknown in ships of war until the early seventeenth century. He ranked above the master, and acted as the captain's proxy, or ambassador, "upon any occasion of Service" (_Monson_). In battle he commanded on the forecastle, and in the forward half of the ship. He was restrained from meddling with the master's duties, lest "Mischiefs and factions" should ensue. Boteler adds that a lieutenant ought not to be "too fierce in his Way at first ... but to carry himself with Moderation and Respect to the Master Gunner, Boatswain, and the other Officers." The master was the ship's navigator, responsible for the performance of "the ordinary Labours in the ship." He took the height of the sun or stars "with his Astrolabe, Backstaff or Jacob's-staff" (_Boteler_). He saw that the watches were kept at work, and had authority to punish misdemeanants (_Monson_). Before he could hope for employment he had to go before the authorities at Trinity House, to show his "sufficiency" in the sea arts (_Monson_). The pilot, or coaster, was junior to the master; but when he was bringing the vessel into port, or over sands, or out of danger, the master had no authority to interfere with him (_Monson_). He was sometimes a permanent official, acting as junior navigator when the ship was out of soundings (_Hawkins_), but more generally he was employed temporarily, as at present, to bring a ship into or out of port (_Monson_ and _Boteler_). The ship's company was drilled by a sort of junior lieutenant (_Boteler_), known as the corporal, who was something between a master-at-arms and a captain of marines. He had charge of the small arms, and had to see to it that the bandoliers for the musketmen were always filled with dry cartridges, and that the muskets and "matches" were kept neat and ready for use in the armoury (_Monson_). He drilled the men in the use of their small arms, and also acted as muster master at the setting and relieving of the watch. The gunner, whose duties we have described at length, was privileged to alter the ship's course in action, and may even have taken command during a chase, or running fight. He was assisted by his mates, who commanded the various batteries while in action, and aimed and fired according to his directions. The boatswain, the chief seaman of the crew, was generally an old sailor who had been much at sea, and knew the whole art of seamanship. He had charge of all the sea-stores, and "all the Ropes belonging to the Rigging [more especially the fore-rigging], all her Cables, and Anchors; all her Sayls, all her Flags, Colours, and Pendants;[23] and so to stand answerable for them" (_Boteler_). He was captain of the long boat, which was stowed on the booms or spare spars between the fore and main masts. He had to keep her guns clean, her oars, mast, sails, stores, and water ready for use, and was at all times to command and steer her when she left the ship (_Hawkins_). He carried a silver whistle, or call, about his neck, which he piped in various measures before repeating the master's orders (_Monson_). The whistle had a ball at one end, and was made curved, like a letter S laid sideways. The boatswain, when he had summoned all hands to their duty, was expected to see that they worked well. He kept them quiet, and "at peace one with another," probably by knocking together the heads of those disposed to quarrel. Lastly, he was the ship's executioner, his mates acting as assistants, and at his hands, under the supervision of the marshal, the crew received their "red-checked shirts," and such bilboed solitude as the captain might direct. [Footnote 23: He had to hang out the ship's colours on going into action (_Monson_).] The coxswain was the commander of the captain's row barge which he had to keep clean, freshly painted and gilded, and fitted with the red and white flag--"and when either the Captain or any Person of Fashion is to use the Boat, or be carryed too and again from the Ship, he is to have the Boat trimmed with her Cushions and Carpet and himself is to be ready to steer her out of her Stern [in the narrow space behind the back board of the stern-sheets] and with his Whistle to chear up and direct his Gang of Rowers, and to keep them together when they are to wait: and this is the lowest Officer in a Ship, that is allowed to carry a Whistle" (_Boteler_). The coxswain had to stay in his barge when she towed astern at sea, and his office, therefore, was often very wretched, from the cold and wet. He had to see that his boat's crew were at all times clean in their persons, and dressed alike, in as fine a livery as could be managed (_Monson_). He was to choose them from the best men in the ship, from the "able and handsome men" (_Monson_). He had to instruct them to row together, and to accustom the port oarsmen to pull starboard from time to time. He also kept his command well caulked, and saw the chocks and skids secure when his boat was hoisted to the deck. The quartermasters and their mates had charge of the hold (_Monson_), and kept a sort of check upon the steward in his "delivery of the Victuals to the Cook, and in his pumping and drawing of the Beer" (_Boteler_). In far later times they seem to have been a rating of elderly and sober seamen who took the helm, two and two together, in addition to their other duties. In the Elizabethan ship they superintended the stowage of the ballast, and were in charge below, over the ballast shifters, when the ships were laid on their sides to be scraped and tallowed. They also had to keep a variety of fish hooks ready, in order to catch any fish, such as sharks or bonitos. The purser was expected to be "an able Clerk" (_Monson_) for he had to keep an account of all provisions received from the victualler. He kept the ship's muster-book, with some account of every man borne upon it. He made out passes, or pay-tickets for discharged men (_ibid._), and, according to _Boteler_, he was able "to purse up roundly for himself" by dishonest dealing. The purser (_Boteler_ says the cook) received 6d. a month from every seaman, for "Wooden Dishes, Cans, Candles, Lanthorns, and Candlesticks for the Hold" (_Monson_). It was also his office to superintend the steward, in the serving out of the provisions and other necessaries to the crew. The steward was the purser's deputy (_Monson_). He had to receive "the full Mass of Victual of all kinds," and see it well stowed in the hold, the heavy things below, the light things up above (_Boteler_). He had charge of all the candles, of which those old dark ships used a prodigious number. He kept the ship's biscuits or bread, in the bread-room, a sort of dark cabin below the gun-deck. He lived a life of comparative retirement, for there was a "several part in the Hold, which is called the Steward's room, where also he Sleeps and Eats" (_Boteler_). He weighed out the provisions for the crew, "to the several Messes in the Ship," and was cursed, no doubt, by every mariner, for a cheating rogue in league with the purser. Though Hawkins tells us that it was his duty "with discretion and good tearmes to give satisfaction to all." The cook did his office in a cook-room, or galley, placed in the forecastle or "in the Hatchway upon the first Orlope" (_Boteler_). The floor of the galley was not at that time paved with brick or stone, as in later days, and now. It was therefore very liable to take fire, especially in foul weather, when the red embers were shaken from the ash-box of the range. It was the cook's duty to take the provisions from the steward, both flesh and fish, and to cook them, by boiling, until they were taken from him (_Monson_). It was the cook's duty to steep the salt meat in water for some days before using, as the meat was thus rendered tender and fit for human food (_Smith_). He had the rich perquisite of the ship's fat, which went into his slush tubs, to bring him money from the candlemakers. The firewood he used was generally green, if not wet, so that when he lit his fire of a morning, he fumigated the fo'c's'le with bitter smoke. It was his duty to pour water on his fire as soon as the guns were cast loose for battle. Every day, for the saving of firewood, and for safety, he had to extinguish his fire directly the dinner had been cooked, nor was he allowed to relight it, "but in case of necessity, as ... when the Cockswain's Gang came wet aboard" (_Monson_). He would allow his cronies in the forenoons to dry their wet gear at his fire, and perhaps allow them, in exchange for a bite or sup, to cook any fish they caught, or heat a can of drink. Another supernumerary was the joiner, a rating only carried in the seventeenth century on great ships with much fancy work about the poop. He it was who repaired the gilt carvings in the stern-works, and made the bulkheads for the admiral's cabin. He was a decorator and beautifier, not unlike the modern painter, but he was to be ready at all times to knock up lockers for the crew, to make boxes and chests for the gunner, and bulkheads, of thin wood, to replace those broken by the seas. As a rule the work of the joiner was done by the carpenter, a much more important person, who commanded some ten or twelve junior workmen. The carpenter was trusted with the pumps, both hand and chain, and with the repairing of the woodwork throughout the vessel. He had to be super-excellent in his profession, for a wooden ship was certain to tax his powers. She was always out of repair, always leaking, always springing her spars. In the summer months, if she were not being battered by the sea, she was getting her timber split by cannon-shot. In the winter months, when laid up and dismantled in the dockyard, she was certain to need new planks, beams, inner fittings and spars (_Hawkins_). The carpenter had to do everything for her, often with grossly insufficient means, and it was of paramount importance that his work-room in the orlop should be fitted with an excellent tool chest. He had to provide the "spare Pieces of Timber wherewith to make Fishes, for to strengthen and succour the Masts." He had to superintend the purchase of a number of spare yards, already tapered, and bound with iron, to replace those that "should chance to be broken." He was to see these lashed to the ship's sides, within board, or stopped in the rigging (_Monson_ and _Boteler_). He had to have all manner of gudgeons for the rudder, every sort of nuts or washers for the pumps, and an infinity of oakum, sheet lead, soft wood, spare canvas, tallow, and the like, with which to stop leaks, or to caulk the seams. In his stores he took large quantities of lime, horse hair, alum, and thin felt with which to wash and sheathe the ship's bottom planking (_Monson_). The alum was often dissolved in water, and splashed over spars and sails, before a battle, as it was supposed to render them non-inflammable. It was his duty, moreover, to locate leaks, either by observing the indraught (which was a tedious way), or by placing his ear to a little earthen pot inverted against one of the planks in the hold. This little pot caused him to hear the water as it gurgled in, and by moving it to and fro he could locate the hole with considerable certainty (_Boteler_). He had to rig the pumps for the sailors, and to report to the captain the depth of water the ship made daily. The pumps were of two kinds, one exactly like that in use on shore, the other, of the same principle, though more powerful. The second kind was called the chain-pump, because "these Pumps have a Chain of Burs going in a Wheel." They were worked with long handles, called brakes (because they broke sailor's hearts), and some ten men might pump at one spell. The water was discharged on to the deck, which was slightly rounded, so that it ran to the ship's side, into a graved channel called the trough, or scuppers, from which it fell overboard through the scupper-holes, bored through the ship's side. These scupper-holes were bored by the carpenter. They slanted obliquely downwards and were closed outside by a hinged flap of leather, which opened to allow water to escape, and closed to prevent water from entering (_Maynwaring_). Each deck had a number of scupper-holes, but they were all of small size. There was nothing to take the place of the big swinging-ports fitted to modern iron sailing ships, to allow the green seas to run overboard. The cooper was another important supernumerary. He had to oversee the stowing of all the casks, and to make, or repair, or rehoop, such casks as had to be made or repaired. He had to have a special eye to the great water casks, that they did not leak; binding them securely with iron hoops, and stowing them with dunnage, so that they might not shift. He was put in charge of watering parties, to see the casks filled at the springs, to fit them, when full, with their bungs, and to superintend their embarkation and stowage (_Monson_ and _Boteler_). The trumpeter was an attendant upon the captain, and had to sound his silver trumpet when that great man entered or left the ship (_Monson_). "Also when you hale a ship, when you charge, board, or enter her; and the Poop is his place to stand or sit upon." If the ship carried a "noise," that is a band, "they are to attend him, if there be not, every one he doth teach to bear a part, the Captain is to encourage him, by increasing his Shares, or pay, and give the Master Trumpeter a reward." When a prince, or an admiral, came on board, the trumpeter put on a tabard, of brilliant colours, and hung his silver instrument with a heavy cloth of the same. He was to blow a blast from the time the visitor was sighted until his barge came within 100 fathoms of the ship. "At what time the Trumpets are to cease, and all such as carry Whistles are to Whistle his Welcome three several times." As the gilt and gorgeous row boat drew alongside, the trumpets sounded a point of welcome, and had then to stand about the cabin door, playing their best, while the great man ate his sweetmeats. As he rowed away again, the trumpeter, standing on the poop, blew out "A loath to depart," a sort of ancient "good-bye, fare you well," such as sailors sing nowadays as they get their anchors for home. In battle the trumpeter stood upon the poop, dressed in his glory, blowing brave blasts to hearten up the gunners. In hailing a friendly ship, in any meeting on the seas, it was customary to "salute with Whistles and Trumpets, and the Ship's Company give a general shout on both sides." When the anchor was weighed, the trumpeter sounded a merry music, to cheer the workers. At dinner each night he played in the great cabin, while the captain drank his wine. At the setting and discharging of the watch he had to sound a solemn point, for which duty he received an extra can of beer (_Monson_ and _Boteler_). The crew, or mariners, were divided into able seamen, ordinary seamen, grummets, or cabin-boys, ship-boys and swabbers. Swabbers were the weakest men of the crew; men, who were useless aloft, or at the guns, and therefore set to menial and dirty duties. They were the ship's scavengers, and had much uncleanly business to see to. Linschoten, describing a Portuguese ship's company, dismisses them with three contemptuous words, "the swabers pump"; but alas, that was but the first duty of your true swabber. Boteler, writing in the reign of James I., gives him more than half-a-page, as follows:-- "The Office of the Swabber is to see the Ship Kept neat and clean, and that as well in the great Cabbin as everywhere else betwixt the Decks; to which end he is, at the least once or twice a week, if not every day, to cause the Ship to be well washed within Board and without above Water, and especially about the Gunwalls [Gunwales or gunnels, over which the guns once pointed] and the Chains and for prevention of Infection, to burn sometimes Pitch, or the like wholsom perfumes, between the Decks: He is also to have a regard to every private Man's Sleeping-place; (to clean the cabins of the petty officers in the nether orlop), and to admonish them all in general [it being dangerous perhaps, in a poor swabber, to admonish in particular] to be cleanly and handsom, and to complain to the Captain, of all such as will be any way nastie and offensive that way. Surely, if this Swabber doth thoroughly take care to discharge this his charge I easily believe that he may have his hands full, and especially if there chance to be any number of Landmen aboard." Under the swabber there was a temporary rate known as the liar. He had to keep the ship clean "without board," in the head, chains, and elsewhere. He held his place but for a week. "He that is first taken with a Lie upon a _Monday_ morning, is proclaimed at the Main-Mast with a general Crie, _a Liar, a Liar, a Liar_, and for that week he is under the Swabber" (_Monson_). The able seamen, or oldest and most experienced hands, did duty about the decks and guns, in the setting up and preservation of the rigging, and in the trimming of the braces, sheets, and bowlines. The ordinary seamen, younkers, grummets, and ship-boys, did the work aloft, furled and loosed the sails, and did the ordinary, never-ceasing work of sailors. They stood "watch and watch" unless the weather made it necessary for all to be on deck, and frequently they passed four hours of each day in pumping the leakage from the well. They wore no uniform, but perhaps some captains gave a certain uniformity to the clothes of their crews by taking slop chests to sea, and selling clothes of similar patterns to the seamen. In the navy, where the crews were pressed, the clothes worn must have been of every known cut and fashion, though no doubt all the pressed men contrived to get tarred canvas coats before they had been many days aboard. The bodies and souls of the seamen were looked after; a chaplain being carried for the one, and a chirurgeon, or doctor, for the other. The chaplain had to read prayers twice or thrice daily, to the whole ship's company, who stood or knelt reverently as he read. He had to lead in the nightly psalms, to reprove all evil-doers, and to exhort the men to their duty. Especially was he to repress all blasphemy and swearing. He was to celebrate the Holy Communion whenever it was most convenient. He was to preach on Sunday, to visit the sick; and, in battle, to console the wounded. Admirals, and peers in command of ships, had the privilege of bringing to sea their own private chaplains. The chirurgeon had to bring on board his own instruments and medicines, and to keep them ready to hand in his cabin beneath the gun-deck, out of all possible reach of shot. He was expected to know his business, and to know the remedies for those ailments peculiar to the lands for which the ship intended. He had to produce a certificate from "able men of his profession," to show that he was fit to be employed. An assistant, or servant, was allowed him, and neither he, nor his servant did any duty outside the chirurgeon's province (_Monson_). CHAPTER XIX THE CHOOSING OF WATCHES The petty tally--Food--Work--Punishments As soon as an ancient ship of war was fitted for the sea, with her guns on board, and mounted, her sails bent, her stores and powder in the hold, her water filled, her ballast trimmed, and the hands aboard, some "steep-tubs" were placed in the chains for the steeping of the salt provisions, "till the salt be out though not the saltness." The anchor was then weighed to a note of music. The "weeping Rachells and mournefull Niobes" were set packing ashore. The colours were run up and a gun fired. The foresail was loosed. The cable rubbed down as it came aboard (so that it might not be faked into the tiers wet or dirty). The boat was hoisted inboard. The master "took his departure," by observing the bearing of some particular point of land, as the Mew Stone, the Start, the Lizard, etc. Every man was bidden to "say his private prayer for a bonne voyage." The anchor was catted and fished. Sails were set and trimmed. Ropes were coiled down clear for running, and the course laid by the master. [Illustration: THE SOVEREIGN OF THE SEAS CIRCA 1630] The captain or master then ordered the boatswain "to call up the company," just as all hands are mustered on modern sailing ships at the beginning of a voyage. The master "being Chief of the Starboard Watch" would then look over the mariners for a likely man. Having made his choice he bade the man selected go over to the starboard side, while the commander of the port-watch made his choice. When all the men had been chosen, and the crew "divided into two parts," then each man was bidden to choose "his Mate, Consort or Comrade." The bedding arrangements of these old ships were very primitive. The officers had their bunks or hammocks in their cabins, but the men seem to have slept wherever and however they could. Some, no doubt had hammocks, but the greater number lay in their cloaks between the guns, on mattresses if they had them. A man shared his bed and bedding (if he had any) with his "Mate, Consort, or Comrade," so that the one bed and bedding served for the pair. One of the two friends was always on deck while the other slept. In some ships at the present time the forecastles are fitted with bunks for only half the number of seamen carried, so that the practice is not yet dead. The boatswain, with all "the Younkers or Common Sailors" then went forward of the main-mast to take up their quarters between decks. The captain, master's mates, gunners, carpenters, quartermasters, etc., lodged abaft the main-mast "in their severall Cabbins." The next thing to be done was the arrangement of the ship's company into messes, "four to a mess," after which the custom was to "give every messe a quarter Can of beere and a bisket of bread to stay their stomacks till the kettle be boiled." In the first dog-watch, from 4 to 6 P.M., all hands went to prayers about the main-mast, and from their devotions to supper. At 6 P.M. the company met again to sing a psalm, and say their prayers, before the setting of the night watch; this psalm singing being the prototype of the modern sea-concert, or singsong. At 8 P.M. the first night watch began, lasting until midnight, during which four hours half the ship's company were free to sleep. At midnight the sleepers were called on deck, to relieve the watch. The watches were changed as soon as the muster had been called and a psalm sung, and a prayer offered. They alternated thus throughout the twenty-four hours, each watch having four hours below, after four hours on deck, unless "some flaw of winde come, some storm or gust, or some accident that requires the help of all hands." In these cases the whole ship's company remained on deck until the work was done, or until the master discharged the watch below.[24] The decks were washed down by the swabbers every morning, before the company went to breakfast. After breakfast the men went about their ordinary duties, cleaning the ship, mending rigging, or working at the thousand odd jobs the sailing of a ship entails. The tops were always manned by lookouts, who received some small reward if they spied a prize. The guns were sometimes exercised, and all hands trained to general quarters. [Footnote 24: See "The Sea-man's Grammar," by Captain John Smith.] A few captains made an effort to provide for the comfort of their men by laying in a supply of "bedding, linnen, arms[25] and apparel." In some cases they also provided what was called the petty tally, or store of medical comforts. "The Sea-man's Grammar" of Captain John Smith, from which we have been quoting, tells us that the petty tally contained: [Footnote 25: The men were expected to bring their own swords and knives.] "Fine wheat flower close and well-packed, Rice, Currants, Sugar, Prunes, Cynamon, Ginger, Pepper, Cloves, Green Ginger, Oil, Butter, Holland cheese or old Cheese, Wine-Vinegar, Canarie-Sack, Aqua-vitæ, the best Wines, the best Waters, the juyce of Limons for the scurvy, white Bisket, Oatmeal, Gammons of Bacons, dried Neats tongues, Beef packed up in Vineger, Legs of Mutton minced and stewed, and close packed up, with tried Sewet or Butter in earthen Pots. To entertain Strangers Marmalade, Suckets, Almonds, Comfits and such like." "Some," says the author of this savoury list, "will say I would have men rather to feast than to fight. But I say the want of those necessaries occasions the loss of more men than in any English Fleet hath been slain since 88. For when a man is ill, or at the point of death, I would know whether a dish of buttered Rice with a little Cynamon, Ginger and Sugar, a little minced meat, or rost Beef, a few stew'd Prunes, a race of green Ginger, a Flap-jack, a Kan of fresh water brewed with a little Cynamon and Sugar be not better than a little poor John, or salt fish, with Oil and Mustard, or Bisket, Butter, Cheese, or Oatmeal-pottage on Fish-dayes, or on Flesh-dayes, Salt, Beef, Pork and Pease, with six shillings beer, this is your ordinary ship's allowance, and good for them are well if well conditioned [not such bad diet for a healthy man if of good quality] which is not alwayes as Sea-men can [too well] witnesse. And after a storme, when poor men are all wet, and some have not so much as a cloth to shift them, shaking with cold, few of those but will tell you a little Sack or Aqua-vitæ is much better to keep them in health, than a little small Beer, or cold water although it be sweet. Now that every one should provide for himself, few of them have either that providence or means, and there is neither Ale-house, Tavern, nor Inne to burn a faggot in, neither Grocer, Poulterer, Apothecary nor Butcher's Shop, and therefore the use of this petty Tally is necessary, and thus to be employed as there is occasion." The entertainment of strangers, with "Almonds, Comfits and such like," was the duty of a sea-captain, for "every Commander should shew himself as like himself as he can," and, "therefore I leave it to their own Discretion," to supply suckets for the casual guest. In those days, when sugar was a costly commodity, a sucket was more esteemed than now. At sea, when the food was mostly salt, it must certainly have been a great dainty. The "allowance" or ration to the men was as follows[26]:-- [Footnote 26: See Sir W. Monson's "Naval Tracts."] Each man and boy received one pound of bread or biscuit daily, with a gallon of beer. The beer was served out four times daily, a quart at a time, in the morning, at dinner, in the afternoon, and at supper. On Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays, which were flesh days, the allowance of meat was either one pound of salt beef, or one pound of salt pork with pease. On Wednesdays and Saturdays, a side of salt-fish, ling, haberdine, or cod, was divided between the members of each mess, while a seven-ounce ration of butter (or olive oil) and a fourteen-ounce ration of cheese, was served to each man. On Fridays, or fast days, this allowance was halved. At one time the sailors were fond of selling or playing away their rations, but this practice was stopped in the reign of Elizabeth, and the men forced to take their food "orderly and in due season" under penalties. Prisoners taken during the cruise were allowed two-thirds of the above allowance. The allowance quoted above appears liberal, but it must be remembered that the sailors were messed "six upon four," and received only two-thirds of the full ration. The quality of the food was very bad. The beer was the very cheapest of small beer, and never kept good at sea, owing to the continual motion of the ship. It became acid, and induced dysentery in those who drank it, though it was sometimes possible to rebrew it after it had once gone sour. The water, which was carried in casks, was also far from wholesome. After storing, for a day or two, it generally became offensive, so that none could drink it. In a little while this offensiveness passed off, and it might then be used, though the casks bred growths of an unpleasant sliminess, if the water remained in them for more than a month. However water was not regarded as a drink for human beings until the beer was spent. The salt meat was as bad as the beer, or worse. Often enough the casks were filled with lumps of bone and fat which were quite uneatable, and often the meat was so lean, old, dry and shrivelled that it was valueless as food. The victuallers often killed their animals in the heat of the summer, when the meat would not take salt, so that many casks must have been unfit for food after lying for a week in store. Anti-scorbutics were supplied, or not supplied, at the discretion of the captains. It appears that the sailors disliked innovations in their food, and rejected the substitution of beans, flour "and those white Meats as they are called" for the heavy, and innutritious pork and beef. Sailors were always great sticklers for their "Pound and Pint," and Boteler tells us that in the early seventeenth century "the common Sea-men with us, are so besotted on their Beef and Pork, as they had rather adventure on all the Calentures, and Scarbots [scurvy] in the World, than to be weaned from their Customary Diet, or so much as to lose the least Bit of it." The salt-fish ration was probably rather better than the meat, but the cheese was nearly always very bad, and of an abominable odour. The butter was no better than the cheese. It was probably like so much train-oil. The bread or biscuit which was stowed in bags in the bread-room in the hold, soon lost its hardness at sea, becoming soft and wormy, so that the sailors had to eat it in the dark. The biscuits, or cakes of bread, seem to have been current coin with many of the West Indian natives. In those ships where flour was carried, in lieu of biscuit, as sometimes happened in cases of emergency, the men received a ration of doughboy, a sort of dumpling of wetted flour boiled with pork fat. This was esteemed a rare delicacy either eaten plain or with butter. This diet was too lacking in variety, and too destitute of anti-scorbutics to support the mariners in health. The ships in themselves were insanitary, and the crews suffered very much from what they called calentures, (or fevers such as typhus and typhoid), and the scurvy. The scurvy was perhaps the more common ailment, as indeed it is to-day. It is now little dreaded, for its nature is understood, and guarded against. In the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries, it killed its thousands, owing to the ignorance and indifference of responsible parties, and to other causes such as the construction of the ships and the length of the voyages. A salt diet, without fresh vegetables, and without variety, is a predisposing cause of scurvy. Exposure to cold and wet, and living in dirty surroundings are also predisposing causes. The old wooden ships were seldom very clean, and never dry, and when once the scurvy took hold it generally raged until the ship reached port, where fresh provisions could be purchased. A wooden ship was never quite dry, in any weather, for the upper-deck planks, and the timbers of her topsides, could never be so strictly caulked that no water could leak in. The sea-water splashed in through the scuppers and through the ports, or leaked in, a little at a time, through the seams. In bad weather the lower gun-decks (or all decks below the spar-deck) were more or less awash, from seas that had washed down the hatchways. The upper-deck seams let in the rain, and when once the lower-decks were wet it was very difficult to dry them. It was impossible to close the gun-deck ports so as to make them watertight, for the water would find cracks to come in at, even though the edges of the lids were caulked with oakum, and the orifices further barred by deadlights or wooden shutters. Many of the sailors, as we have seen, were without a change of clothes, and with no proper sleeping-place, save the wet deck and the wet jackets that they worked in. It often happened that the gun-ports would be closed for several weeks together, during which time the gun-decks became filthy and musty, while the sailors contracted all manner of cramps and catarrhs. In addition to the wet, and the discomfort of such a life, there was also the work, often extremely laborious, incidental to heavy weather at sea. What with the ceaseless handling of sails and ropes, in frost and snow and soaking sea-water; and the continual pumping out of the leaks the rotten seams admitted, the sailor had little leisure in which to sleep, or to dry himself. When he left the deck he had only the dark, wet berth-deck to retire to, a place of bleakness and misery, where he might share a sopping blanket, if he had one, with the corpse of a drowned rat and the flotsam from the different messes. There was no getting dry nor warm, though the berth-deck might be extremely close and stuffy from lack of ventilation. The cook-room, or galley fire would not be lighted, and there would be no comforting food or drink, nothing but raw meat and biscuit, and a sup of sour beer. It was not more unpleasant perhaps than life at sea is to-day, but it was certainly more dangerous.[27] When at last the storm abated and the sea went down, the ports were opened and the decks cleaned. The sailors held a general washing-day, scrubbing the mouldy clothes that had been soaked so long, and hanging them to dry about the rigging. Wind-sails or canvas ventilators were rigged, to admit air to the lowest recesses of the hold. The decks were scrubbed down with a mixture of vinegar and sand, and then sluiced with salt water, scraped with metal scrapers, and dried with swabs and small portable firepots. Vinegar was carried about the decks in large iron pots, and converted into vapour by the insertion of red-hot metal bars. The swabbers brought pans of burning pitch or brimstone into every corner, so that the smoke might penetrate everywhere. But even then the decks were not wholesome. There were spaces under the guns which no art could dry, and subtle leaks in the topsides that none could stop. The hold accumulated filth, for in many ships the ship's refuse was swept on to the ballast, where it bred pestilence, typhus fever and the like. The bilge-water reeked and rotted in the bilges, filling the whole ship with its indescribable stench. Beetles, rats and cockroaches bred and multiplied in the crannies, until (as in Captain Cook's case two centuries later), they made life miserable for all on board. These wooden ships were very gloomy abodes, and would have been so no doubt even had they been dry and warm. They were dark, and the lower-deck, where most of the men messed, was worse lit than the decks above it, for being near to the water-line the ports could seldom be opened. Only in very fair weather could the sailors have light and sun below decks. As a rule they ate and slept in a murky, stuffy atmosphere, badly lighted by candles in heavy horn lanthorns. The gloom of the ships must have weighed heavily upon many of the men, and the depression no doubt predisposed them to scurvy, making them less attentive to bodily cleanliness, and less ready to combat the disease when it attacked them. Perhaps some early sea-captains tried to make the between decks less gloomy by whitewashing the beams, bulkheads and ship's sides. In the eighteenth century this seems to have been practised with success, though perhaps the captains who tried it were more careful of their hands in other ways, and the benefit may have been derived from other causes. [Footnote 27: The mortality among the sailors was very great.] Discipline was maintained by some harsh punishments, designed to "tame the most rude and savage people in the world." Punishment was inflicted at the discretion of the captain, directly after the hearing of the case, but the case was generally tried the day after the commission of the offence, so that no man should be condemned in hot blood. The most common punishment was that of flogging, the men being stripped to the waist, tied to the main-mast or to a capstan bar, and flogged upon the bare back with a whip or a "cherriliccum." The boatswain had power to beat the laggards and the ship's boys with a cane, or with a piece of knotted rope. A common punishment was to put the offender on half his allowance, or to stop his meat, or his allowance of wine or spirits. For more heinous offences there was the very barbarous punishment of keel-hauling, by which the victim was dragged from the main yardarm right under the keel of the ship, across the barnacles, to the yardarm on the farther side. Those who suffered this punishment were liable to be cut very shrewdly by the points of the encrusted shells. Ducking from the main yardarm was inflicted for stubbornness, laziness, going on shore without leave, or sleeping while on watch. The malefactor was brought to the gangway, and a rope fastened under his arms and about his middle. He was then hoisted rapidly up to the main yardarm, "from whence he is violently let fall into the Sea, some times twice, some times three severall times, one after another" (_Boteler_). This punishment, and keel-hauling, were made more terrible by the discharge of a great gun over the malefactor's head as he struck the water, "which proveth much offensive to him" (_ibid._). If a man killed another he was fastened to the corpse and flung overboard (_Laws of Oleron_). For drawing a weapon in a quarrel, or in mutiny, the offender lost his right hand (_ibid._). Theft was generally punished with flogging, but in serious cases the thief was forced to run the gauntlet, between two rows of sailors all armed with thin knotted cords. Ducking from the bowsprit end, towing in a rope astern, and marooning, were also practised as punishments for the pilferer. For sleeping on watch there was a graduated scale. First offenders were soused with a bucket of water. For the second offence they were tied up by the wrists, and water was poured down their sleeves. For the third offence they were tied to the mast, with bags of bullets, or gun-chambers tied about their arms and necks, until they were exhausted, or "till their back be ready to break" (_Monson_). If they still offended in this kind they were taken and tied to the bowsprit end, with rations of beer and bread, and left there with leave to starve or fall into the sea. Destruction or theft of ships' property was punished by death. Petty insurrections, such as complaints of the quality or quantity of the food, etc., were punished by the bilboes. The bilboes were iron bars fixed to the deck a little abaft the main-mast. The prisoner sat upon the deck under a sentry, and his legs and hands were shackled to the bars with irons of a weight proportioned to the crime. It was a rule that none should speak to a man in the bilboes. For blasphemy and swearing there was "an excellent good way"[28] of forcing the sinner to hold a marline-spike in his mouth, until his tongue was bloody (_Teonge_). Dirty speech was punished in a similar way, and sometimes the offending tongue was scrubbed with sand and canvas. We read of two sailors who stole a piece of beef aboard H.M.S. _Assistance_ in the year 1676.[29] Their hands were tied behind them, and the beef was hung about their necks, "and the rest of the seamen cam one by one, and rubd them over the mouth with the raw beife; and in this posture they stood two howers." Other punishments were "shooting to death," and hanging at the yardarm. "And the Knaveries of the Ship-boys are payd by the Boat-Swain with the Rod; and commonly this execution is done upon the Munday Mornings; and is so frequently in use, that some meer Seamen believe in earnest, that they shall not have a fair Wind, unless the poor Boys be duely brought to the Chest, that is, whipped, every Munday Morning" (_Boteler_). [Footnote 28: _Circa_ 1670.] [Footnote 29: The punishment would have been no less severe a century earlier.] Some of these punishments may appear unduly harsh; but on the whole they were no more cruel than the punishments usually inflicted ashore. Indeed, if anything they were rather more merciful. CHAPTER XX IN ACTION In engaging an enemy's ship at sea the custom was to display the colours from the poop, and to hang streamers or pennons from the yardarms.[30] The spritsail would then be furled, and the spritsail-yard brought alongship. The lower yards were slung with chain, and the important ropes, sheets and braces,[31] etc., were doubled. The bulkheads and wooden cabin walls were knocked away, or fortified with hammocks or bedding, to minimise the risk of splinters. The guns were cast loose and loaded. The powder or cartridge was brought up in "budge barrels," covered with leather, from the magazine, and stowed well away from the guns, either in amidships, or on that side of the ship not directly engaged. Tubs of water were placed between the guns with blankets soaking in them for the smothering of any fire that might be caused. Other tubs were filled with "vinegar water or what we have" for the sponging of the guns. The hatches leading to the hold were taken up, so that no man should desert his post during the engagement. The light sails were furled, and in some cases sent down on deck. The magazines were opened, and hung about with wet blankets to prevent sparks from entering. Shot was sent to the shot-lockers on deck. Sand was sprinkled on the planking to give a greater firmness to the foothold of the men at the guns. The gunner and his mates went round the batteries to make sure that all was ready. The caps, or leaden plates, were taken from the touch-holes, and the priming powder was poured down upon the cartridge within the gun. The carpenter made ready sheets of lead, and plugs of oakum, for the stopping of shot-holes.[32] The cook-room fire was extinguished. The sails were splashed with a solution of alum. The people went to eat and drink at their quarters. Extra tiller ropes, of raw hide, were rove abaft. The trumpeters put on their[33] tabards, "of the Admiral's colours," and blew points of war as they sailed into action. A writer of the early seventeenth century[34] has left the following spirited account of a sea-fight:-- [Footnote 30: Monson.] [Footnote 31: _Ibid._] [Footnote 32: Monson.] [Footnote 33: _Ibid._] [Footnote 34: Captain John Smith.] "A sail, how bears she or stands shee, to winde-ward or lee-ward? set him by the Compasse; he stands right ahead, or on the weather-Bowe, or lee-Bowe, let fly your colours if you have a consort, else not. Out with all your sails, a steady man to the helme, sit close to keep her steady, give him chase or fetch him up; he holds his own, no, we gather on him. Captain, out goes his flag and pendants, also his waste-clothes and top-armings, which is a long red cloth about three quarters of a yard broad, edged on each side with Calico, or white linnen cloth, that goeth round about the ship on the outsides of all her upper works fore and aft, and before the cubbridge-heads, also about the fore and maine tops, as well for the countenance and grace of the ship, as to cover the men for being seen, he furies and slinges his maine yarde, in goes his spret-saile. Thus they use to strip themselves into their short sailes, or fighting sailes, which is only the fore sail, the main and fore topsails, because the rest should not be fired nor spoiled; besides they would be troublesome to handle, hinder our fights and the using our armes; he makes ready his close fights fore and aft. "Master, how stands the chase? Right on head I say; Well we shall reatch him by and by; what's all ready? Yea, yea, every man to his charge, dowse your topsaile to salute him for the Sea, hale him with a noise of trumpets; Whence is your ship? Of Spaine; Whence is yours? Of England. Are you a Merchant, or a Man of War? We are of the Sea. He waves us to Lee-ward with his drawne Sword, cals amaine for the King of Spaine and springs his loufe. Give him a chase piece with your broadside, and run a good berth ahead of him; Done, done. We have the winde of him, and he tackes about, tacke you aboute also and keep your loufe [keep close to the wind] be yare at the helme, edge in with him, give him a volley of small shot, also your prow and broadside as before, and keep your loufe; He payes us shot for shot; Well, we shall requite him; What, are you ready again? Yea, yea. Try him once more, as before; Done, Done; Keep your loufe and charge your ordnance again; Is all ready? Yea, yea, edge in with him again, begin with your bowe pieces, proceed with your broadside, and let her fall off with the winde, to give her also your full chase, your weather broadside, and bring her round that the stern may also discharge, and your tackes close aboord again; Done, done, the wind veeres, the Sea goes too high to boord her, and we are shot thorow and thorow, and betwene winde and water. Try the pump, bear up the helme; Master let us breathe and refresh a little, and sling a man overboard [_i.e._ lower a man over the side] to stop the leakes; that is, to trusse him up aboute the middle in a piece of canvas, and a rope to keep him from sinking, and his armes at liberty, with a malet in the one hand, and a plug lapped in Okum, and well tarred in a tarpawling clowt in the other, which he will quickly beat into the hole or holes the bullets made; What cheere mates? is all well? All well, all well, all well. Then make ready to bear up with him again, and with all your great and small shot charge him, and in the smoke boord him thwart the hawse, on the bowe, midships, or rather than faile, on the quarter [where the high poop made it difficult to climb on board] or make fast your graplings [iron hooks] if you can to his close fights and shear off [so as to tear them to pieces]. Captain, we are fowl on each other, and the Ship is on fire, cut anything to get clear and smother the fire with wet clothes. In such a case they will presently be such friends, as to helpe one the other all they can to get clear, lest they should both burn together and sink; and if they be generous, the fire quenched, drink kindely one to another; heave their cans overboord, and then begin again as before. "Well, Master, the day is spent, the night drawes on, let us consult. Chirurgion, look to the wounded, and winde up the slain, with each a weight or bullet at their heades and feet to make them sinke, and give them three Gunnes for their funerals. Swabber, make clean the ship [sprinkle it with hot vinegar to avoid the smell of blood]; Purser, record their Names; Watch, be vigilant to keep your berth to windeward that we lose him not in the night; Gunners, spunge your Ordnance; Sowldiers, scowre your pieces; Carpenters about your leakes; Boatswaine and the rest repair your sails and shrouds; and Cooke, you observe your directions against the morning watch; Boy, Holla, Master, Holla, is the Kettle boiled? Yea, yea; Boatswaine, call up the men to prayer and breakfast [We may suppose the dawn has broken]. "Boy, fetch my cellar of bottels [case of spirits], a health to you all fore and aft, courage my hearts for a fresh charge; Gunners beat open the ports, and out with your lower tire [lower tier of guns] and bring me from the weather side to the lee, so many pieces as we have ports to bear upon him. Master lay him aboord loufe for loufe; mid Ships men, see the tops and yards well manned, with stones, fire pots and brass bailes, to throw amongst them before we enter, or if we be put off, charge them with all your great and small shot, in the smoke let us enter them in the shrouds, and every squadron at his best advantage; so sound Drums and Trumpets, and Saint George for England. "They hang out a flag of truce, hale him a main, abase, or take in his flag [to hale one to amaine, a main or a-mayn, was to bid him surrender; to abase was to lower the colours or the topsails], strike their sails, and come aboord with their Captaine, Purser, and Gunner, with their commission, cocket, or bills of loading. Out goes the boat, they are launched from the ship's side, entertaine them with a generall cry God save the Captain and all the company with the Trumpets sounding, examine them in particular, and then conclude your conditions, with feasting, freedom or punishment as you find occasion; but alwayes have as much care to their wounded as your own, and if there be either young women or aged men, use them nobly, which is ever the nature of a generous disposition. To conclude, if you surprise him, or enter perforce, you may stow the men, rifle, pillage, or sack, and cry a prise." Down below in the gun-decks during an action, the batteries became so full of the smoke of black powder that the men could hardly see what they were doing. The darkness prevented them from seeing the very dangerous recoiling of the guns, and many were killed by them. It was impossible to judge how a gun carriage would recoil, for it never recoiled twice in the same manner, and though the men at the side tackles did their best to reduce the shock they could not prevent it altogether. It was the custom to close the gun-ports after each discharge, as the musketeers aboard the enemy could otherwise fire through them as the men reloaded. The guns were not fired in a volley, as no ship could have stood the tremendous shock occasioned by the simultaneous discharge of all her guns. They were fired in succession, beginning from the bows. In heavy weather the lower tiers of guns were not cast loose, for the rolling made them difficult to control, and the sea came washing through the ports and into the muzzles of the guns, knocking down the men and drenching the powder. It sometimes happened that the shot, and cartridge, were rolled clean out of the guns. In sponging and ramming the men were bidden to keep the sponge or rammer on that side of them opposite to the side exposed to the enemy so that if a shot should strike it, it would not force it into the body of the holder. A man was told off to bring cartridges and shot to each gun or division of guns and he was strictly forbidden to supply any other gun or guns during the action. The wounded were to be helped below by men told off especially for the purpose. Once below, in the cockpit, they were laid on a sail, and the doctor or his mates attended to them in turn. In no case was a man attended out of his turn. This system seems equitable, and the sailors were insistent that it should be observed; but many poor fellows bled to death, from shattered arteries, etc., while waiting till the doctor should be ready. The chaplain attended in the cockpit to comfort the dying, and administer the rites of the Church. When a vessel was taken, her crew were stripped by those in want of clothes. The prisoners were handcuffed, or chained together, and placed in the hold, on the ballast. The ship's company then set to work to repair damages, clean and secure the guns, return powder, etc., to the armoury, and magazines, and to give thanks for their preservation round the main-mast. [Illustration: Map Shewing the EARLY BUCCANEER CRUISING GROUND] INDEX Action, description of ship in, 334 Allowance of food and drink, 326, 327 Alvarado, 226, etc. ---- battle of, 227 _et seq._ Anastasius (church), 252 Andreas, Captain, 232, 234, 238 Antonio, Captain, 235 Arica, 259, 265, 266, 267 ---- battle of, 267 _et seq._, 273, 274 Arquebus, 303 Barbecue, 112 Barker, Andrew, 105 Baronha, Admiral, 245 Bastimentos, 22 _Bear_, pinnace, 79, 82, 84 Bishop (of Panama), 255, 256, 281 Blewfields, 134 Boats (ships'), 297 Boatswains, 313 Boco del Toro, 230, 231 Boucan, 112 Bracos, De los, 180 Bradley, John, 173 _et seq._ Buccaneers, rise of, 112 _et seq._; customs, etc., 113; dress, 114; drunkenness, 115; cruel, 116; religious, 119; attached to comrades, 119; preparations for raids, 120 _et seq._; shares of spoil, 125; at the Samballoes, 232; at Perico, 247 Buckenham, Captain, 225 Cabeças, or Cabezas, 80, 84, 88, 92, 95 Cabin-boys, 319 Campeachy, 127 Canoas, 127; capturing prizes from, 129 _et seq._ Captains, 311, 322, 323, 324 Caribs, 108 Carpenters, 316 Cartagena, 11, 26, 27, 33, 35, 40, 41 _et seq._, 44, 45, 94 Cartridges, 300, 301 Castle Gloria, 151 Cativaas, or Catives, 9, 38, 53, 82 Cedro Bueno, halt at, 182 ---- canoas sent to, 188 Chaplains, 321, 339 Chagres Castle, expedition to, under Bradley, 173 _et seq._ ---- Morgan's arrival at, 180 ---- party sent to, 203 ---- message from, 205 Chagres River, 25, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 81; also 180-210 Charesha, 26 Chatas (small Spanish boats), 179 Cheapo River, 61, 241, 279 Chapillo, 241, 253 Chirurgeons, 321 Colonies in West Indies, 110, 111 Commissions, 118 Cook, Captain, 233, 234, 256, 258, 262 Cooks (ships'), 315 Coopers, 318 Compensations, 122 Comrades, 323 Corporals, 312 Costa Rica, Morgan sails for, 149 Cox, Captain, 258, 259, 262 Coxon, Captain, 229, 233, 237, 240, 241, 243, 249, 253 ---- sails for home, 254 Coxswains, 313 Crews, 319 Daggs (pistols), 304 Dampier, William, 126; early life in West Indies, 218 _et seq._; ill at Campeachy, 225; ruined by storm, 226; goes pirating, _ibid._; returns to England, 228; to Jamaica, 229; joins buccaneers, 230; lands on isthmus, 234; not at Perico, 246; not at Arica, 267; leaves Sharp, 276, 277; tramps across isthmus, 280, 283, 284, 285, 286, 287, 288 Darien, Gulf of, 4, 5, 8, 31, 99 Darien isthmus. _See_ Drake, Morgan, Dampier, etc. Delander, R., 180 De la Barra Castle, 162 Diego, 19, 24, 31, 32, 36, 50, 51 ---- Fort, 49, 51, 92 ---- River, 37, 38, 49 Discomforts, 328 Discipline, 330, 331, 332 Drake, Francis (afterwards Sir Francis), born, 1; at San Juan d'Ulloa, 1, 2; at West Indies, 2, 3; sails for Nombre de Dios, 3, 4, 5; lands, 6; joins Rause, 7, 8; sails west, 9, 10; attacks Nombre de Dios, 15, 16, 20, 21; hurt, 21; receives herald, 23; goes to Cartagena, 26; establishes fort, 31; goes east, 32, 33; in Cartagena, 40, 41, etc.; returns thither, 45; starving, 46, 47; holds post mortem, 52; goes for Panama, 55 _et seq._; fails to take treasure, 66; retreats, 68; at Venta Cruz, 69; returns to Hixom, 77; goes to Veragua, 80, 81; meets Captain Tetû, 82; makes his great raid, 84, 85, 86, 88; builds raft, 89-90; his bravado, 94; arrives at Plymouth, 96; mentioned, 97; sacks St Domingo, 110; his island, 259, 260 ---- John, 29, 30, 31, 32, 37 ---- Joseph, 52 Entertainments, 325 Estera longa Lemos (near Porto Bello), 153 Firing (of cannon), 301; and aiming, 305, 306 Fort Jeronimo (at Porto Bello), 151 Francisco River (St Francis River), 9, 84, 88, 91, 92 French in West Indies, 111, 117 ---- buccaneer commissions, 118 Fumigations, 329 Gabriele, Josef, 239 Galleons, 292, 293 Galliasses, 292, 293 Galleys, 291 Gambling, 131 Garret, John, 6 Gayny, G., 283, 285, 286, 287 Gear (sailors'), 296 Gibraltar (in Maracaibo), 162 Glub, Charles, 49 Golden Island, 232 Gorgona, 259, 276 Grummets, 320 Guasco (Huasco), 274 Gunners, 300, 301, 302, 304, 305, 308, 309, 312 Guns, 298 _et seq._, 307; list of, 303 Guzman, Don John Perez, takes Santa Katalina, 138. _See also_ Panama battle Harris, Captain, 233, 237; killed and buried, 253 Hawkins, Sir R., 98, 99; his story of Oxenham, 105 Hayti, 106 Hilo (Ylo or Ilo), 260, 273, 274 Hispaniola, 106, 107 _et seq._, 114 Hixom, Ellis, 48, 54, 56, 75, 76, 77 Hobby, Mr, 229 Hunters, 108, 109 Indians, 121, 265, 279 Iquique (Yqueque), 264 Iron Castle (at Porto Bello), 139, 151, 158 Jamaica, 118, 229, 289 Jobson (or Cobson), 284, 287 Joiners, 316 Juan Fernandez, 261, 264 Katalina, Santa, Mansvelt goes to, 135 ---- Morgan takes, 171 King Golden Cap, 236, 237, 239, 241, 246, 253, 255 La Serena, 260 Las Serenas, 44 La Sounds Key, 285, 287, 288 Liars, 320 Lieutenants, 311 Linstocks, 309 _Lion_, pinnace, 53, 84 Logwood cutting, 127; description of, 222 Longships, 291 Lorenzo, San, Castle of, 173; taken, 176; Morgan's return to, 213; destroyed, 214 Magdalena, 31, 37 Main, the, 28, 39, 83, 123, 124, 127 Mansvelt, Dutch pirate, cruises in South Seas, 135; his plans, 134; meets Henry Morgan, 135; sails with him, _ibid._; takes Santa Katalina, 135; seeks recruits and recognition from English Governor, 136; is refused help, 137; sails to Tortuga, 137; dies, 139 Maracaibo, 162 Maroons, 24, 28, 36, 38, 51, 53, 54, 56, 58, 59, 60, 62, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 74, 75, 76, 85, 89, 95, 99, 100, 101, 102 Marygalante, 4 Masts, 294 Masters, 312, 322 _Minion_, pinnace, 49, 79 Moone, T., 2, 29 Morgan, Henry (afterwards Sir Henry), meets Mansvelt, 135; sails with him, _ibid._; tries to get help from New England, 139; gathers fleet, 140; goes for Puerto del Principe, 141; battle there, 142; town taken, 142; stay there, 143; mutiny and fight, 145; defection of French allies, 146; returns to Port Royal, 146; sails for Costa Rica, 149; lands, 153; takes a fort, 155; attacks Porto Bello, 156; takes it, 157; receives summons from Panama, 159; defeats Spanish troops, 160; receives ransom, 160; returns to Port Royal, 161; goes for Maracaibo, 162; summons De la Barra Castle, 163; the fireship, 164; Spanish rally, 164; Morgan's stratagem, 166; his return to Port Royal, 167; goes for Main, 168, 169; takes Santa Katalina, 177; sails for Chagres, 179; reaches Venta Cruz, 187; sees Panama, 190; takes it, 199, etc.; burns his ships, 209; leaves ruins, 210; returns to Venta Cruz, 212; destroys San Lorenzo, 214; returns to Port Royal, 215; becomes Governor of Jamaica, 216 Mosquito Indians, 122, 123, 124, 125 Mule trains (or recuas), 65, 66, 67, 85 Munjack, 228 Muskets, 303 Mutiny, 257 Nombre De Dios, 3, 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14; description of, 16, 17, 18, etc.; attack on, 27, 28, 62, 63, 64, 65, 84, 85, 98, 99, 103, 104 Norman, Captain, 180, 205 One Bush Key, 219, 221, 224 Ortega, John de, 100, 101 Oxenham, John, 17, 18, 39, 43, 61, 64, 65, 79, 81, 82, 93, 98; sails on his raid, 98; builds ship, 99; raids South Seas, 100; mutiny, 102, 103; Spaniards take him, 104; and hang him, 104, 108 Panama, 8, 11, 12, 15, 39, 54, 55, 61, 62, 243, 244, 252, 254, 255 ---- description of, 192. ---- Morgan's sight of, 190 ---- Governor of. _See_ Guzman, 159, 160. Parrots, at Alvarado, 227 _Pascha_, a ship, 3, 30, 31, 32, 79, 81, 94, 95 Pavesses, 294 Pearl Islands, 100, 101, 244 Pedro, 57, 60, 95 Penn, 117 Peralta, Don, 206, 245, 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 258, 261 Periaguas, 127 Perico, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 250-253 Petticoat (a sky-blue), 279 Petty tally, 324, 325 Pezoro, 79, 80, 81 Pike, Robert, 65, 67, 78 Pine Islands, 8, 9, 20 Pinnaces, 3, 7 Plenty, Port, 36 Plymouth, 3, 4, 96, 98 Porto Bello, 11, 13, 15; description, 150 _et seq._; attacked and sacked, 154 _et seq._; 230, 231 Port Pheasant, 5 Port Royal, 132 ---- Morgan's return to, 215 ---- Dampier arrives at, 221 Porto Santo, 4 Provisions, 326, 327, 328 Puebla Nueva, 256 Puerto del Principe, 140, 141 _et seq._ Pursers, 314 Quartermasters, 314 Quibo, 256, 257, 258, 259 Raft (Drake's), 89, 90 Rause, Captain, 7, 9, 25 Rigging, ancient, 295 Ringrose, Basil, 234, 237, 241, 243, 244, 247, 248, 349, 250 ---- at Arica, 267, 268, 269, 273, 288, 289 Rio de la Hacha, 47, 169 Rio Grande, 32, 33, 46 Roundships, 291 Sails, 294, 295, 296, 297 Sailing from port, 322, 323 San Andreas, 127 ---- Antonio, 96 ---- Barnardo, 26, 28, 40, 50, 94 ---- Domingo, 106, 107 ---- Juan d'Ulloa, 1, 2, 12 ---- Miguel, 277 Santa Maria, 232, 238, 239, 240, 253 ---- Martha, 5, 47 ---- Pecaque, 289 Savannahs, 61 Sawkins, Richard, Captain, 229, 233, 236, 240, 243, 248, 249, 250, 253, 254, 255, 256; killed, 257, 262, 263, 281 Scrivanos, 28, 41, 53 Sea-fighting, 334, 335, 336, 337 Searles, Captain, 206 Sharp, Captain Bartholomew, 229, 233, 237, 238, 241, 242, 243, 244, 252, 253, 254, 255; takes prizes, 257; elected admiral, 258, 259, 262, 265; at Arica, 267, 270, 271, 274, 275, 288, 289, 290 Ship-boys, 319 Simon Le Sieur, 136, 137, 138 Smith, Captain John, 89 Springer, Captain, 248 ---- his key, 286 Stewards, 315 Swabbers, 319, 320 _Swan_, a ship, 2, 3, 29, 30 Tawnymores (a ship of), 247, 248, 249, 251 Tetû, Captain, 82, 83, 84, 86; hurt, 86, 87, 91 Tiburon, Cape, 169 Tocamora, 231 Tolu, 6, 36, 53, 79 Top-arming, 294 Torna Munni, 183 Tortuga, 111, 112, 115, 117 Tree (a great), 60, 61 _Trinity_, the Most Blessed, a Spanish galleon, 206, 251, 253, 259, 260, 261, 263, 264, 288, 289 Tristian, Captain, 285 Trumpeters, 318 Tucker, Francis, 95 Venables, 117 Venta Cruz, 25, 62, 65, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 75, 85, 187, 212 Veragua, 78, 79, 80, 81 Villa del Rey, 35 Wafer, Lionel, 234, 276, 281, 282, 283, 284, 285, 287 Watling, John, 262, 263, 264, 266; attacks Arica, 267, 268, 269; shot, 270 Ylo, 260, 273, 274 Yqueque, 264, 265 Younkers, 320 Ysabel Nueva, 106 
38633	----	public domain material generously made available by the Google Books Library Project (http://books.google.com/) Note: Project Gutenberg has the other two volumes of this work. Volume I: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38631 Volume II: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38632 Images of the original pages are available through the the Google Books Library Project. See http://books.google.com/books?vid=FyYCAAAAYAAJ&id THE MONARCHS OF THE MAIN; Or, Adventures of the Buccaneers. by GEORGE W. THORNBURY, ESQ. "One foot on sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never." MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. In Three Volumes. VOL. III. London: Hurst and Blackett, Publishers, Successors to Henry Colburn, 13, Great Marlborough Street. 1855. London: Sercombe and Jack, 16 Great Windmill Street. CONTENTS OF VOL. III. CHAPTER I.--RAVENAU DE LUSSAN. As a young French Officer joins De Graff, at St. Domingo--Cruises round Carthagena--Crosses the Isthmus--Hardships--Joins the Buccaneer Fleet--Grogniet, the French Captain--Previous history of his Life--Fight with Greek mercenaries on the island--Take La Seppa--Engagement off Panama--Take Puebla Nueva--Separate from English--Capture Leon--Sack Chiriquita--Burn Granada--Storm Villia--Surprised by river ambuscade--Treachery of Greek spy--Capture vessels--Behead Spanish prisoners--Letter of Spanish President--Burning of the Savannahs--Quarrel between French and English--Attack on Quayaquilla--Love adventure of De Lussan--Retreat of French Buccaneers by land over the Isthmus of Darien--Passage from North to South Pacific--Great danger--Pass between the mountains--Daring stratagem of De Lussan--Escape--The river of the torrents--Rafts--Arrives at St. Domingo 1 CHAPTER II.--THE LAST OF THE BROTHERHOOD. Sieur de Montauban--Cruises on the coast of Guinea--Captures English man-of-war--Escape from explosion--Life with the negro king--Laurence de Graff--His victories--Enters the French service--Treachery--Buccaneers join in French expedition and take Carthagena--Buccaneer marksmen--Robbed of spoil--Return and retake the city--Capture by English and Dutch fleets, 1698--Buccaneers wrecked with D'Estrees--Grammont takes Santiago--Captures Maracaibo, Gibraltar, and Torilla--Lands at Cumana--Enters the French service--Lost in a farewell cruise 105 CHAPTER III.--DESTRUCTION OF THE FLOATING EMPIRE. Peace of Ryswick--Attempts to settle the Buccaneers as planters--They turn pirates--Blackbeard and Paul Jones--Last expedition to the Darien mines, 1702 157 CHAPTER IV.--THE PIRATES OF NEW PROVIDENCE AND THE KINGS OF MADAGASCAR. Laws and dress--Government--Blackbeard--His enormities--Captain Avery and the great Mogul--Davis--Lowther--Low--Roberts--Major Bonnet--Captain Gow--The Guinea coast--Narratives of pirate prisoners--Sequel 163 List of Authorities. Buccaneer Chiefs. MONARCHS OF THE MAIN. CHAPTER I. RAVENAU DE LUSSAN. Joins De Graff--Cruises round Carthagena--Crosses the Isthmus--Hardships--Joins Buccaneer fleet--Grogniet--Previous history of the vessels--Fight with Greek mercenaries--Take La Seppa--Engagement off Panama--Take Puebla Nueva--Separate from English--Take Leon--Take Chiriquita--Take Granada--Capture Villia--Surprised by ambuscade--Treachery of Greek spy--Capture vessels--Behead prisoners--Burn the savannahs--Quarrel between French and English--Take Guayaquil--Love adventure of De Lussan--Retreat by land from North to South Pacific--Daring stratagem of De Lussan--Escape--River and torrents--Rafts--Arrive at St. Domingo. For the cruises of Grogniet we are indebted to the pages of Ravenau de Lussan, a young soldier, as brave and as sagacious as Xenophon. On the 22nd of November, 1684, Ravenau de Lussan departed from Petit Guaves with a crew of 120 adventurers, on board of a prize lately taken near Carthagena by Captain Laurence de Graff. Their intention was to join themselves to a Buccaneer fleet then cruising near Havannah. They had hitherto acted as convoy to the Lieutenant-General and the Intendant of the French colonies, who were afraid of being attacked by the Spanish piraguas. Soon after descrying the mainland, they were hailed by a French tartane, who, not believing that they were of his own nation, or had a commission from the Count of Tholouse, the Lord High Admiral of France, gave them two guns and commanded them to strike. The Buccaneers, thinking they had met a Spaniard, knocked out the head of two barrels of powder, intending to burn themselves and blow up the vessel, rather than be cruelly tortured and hung at the yard-arm with their commissions round their necks. A signal, however, discovered the mistake, and they were soon after joined by the vessels they sought. One of these was the _Mutinous_, formerly the _Peace_, commanded by Captain Michael Landresson, and carried fifty guns. The other was the _Neptune_, formerly the _St. Francis_, and carried forty-four guns. They had both been Spanish armadillas, had sallied out of Carthagena to take Captain De Graff, Michael, Quet, and Le Sage, and were themselves captured before the very walls. The four other boats belonged to Rose Vigneron, La Garde, and an "English traitor from Jamaica." They were then watching for the patache of Margarita, and a squadron of Spanish ships. At Curaçoa they sent a boat ashore to ask leave to land and remast Laurence de Graff's vessel that had suffered in a hurricane, but were refused, although they showed their commission, and the men who landed were required to leave their swords at the gate. At Santa Cruz they saluted the fort, and the governor, finding 200 of them roaming about the town, commanded them by drum-beat to return to their ships, offering them two shallops for two pieces of eight a man to take them to their ships, but refusing to let them walk through the island. They found the reason of this was that Michael and Laurence's ships had lately taken 200,000 pieces of eight in two Dutch ships near the Havannah. This the freebooters did not touch, being at peace with Holland, but the sailors had stolen it and laid it to the French. Arriving at Cape La Vella, they placed fifteen sentinels to watch for the patache, and sent a boat to the La Hache river to obtain prisoners, but, in spite of various stratagems, failed in the attempt. A dispute now arose among the crews, who were weary of waiting for the patache, such disputes invariably breaking out in all seasons of misfortune, when union was more than usually necessary. Laurence de Graff, whom they accused of fraud, sailed at once for St. Domingo, followed by eighty-seven men in the prize, and Ravenau accompanied Captain Rose and Captain Michael to Carthagena, where they captured seven piraguas laden with maize. From the prisoners they heard that two galleons lay in the port, that the fleet was at Porto Bello, and that some ships were about to set out. Soon after this, finding themselves separated from Captain Rose and Michael, Ravenau determined to cross over the continent and get into the South Sea, as he heard a previous expedition some months before had done. Near Cape Matance a remarkable adventure happened. A Spanish soldier, belonging to the galleons, who had been taken in one of the maize vessels, although treated with every kindness, attempted to drown himself by throwing himself into the sea; his body, however, floated on its back, although he did all he could to drown, till at last, refusing the tackle thrown him from very compassion, he turned himself upon his face, and sank to the bottom. On landing at Golden Island and fixing a flag to warn the Indians, they saw a pennon hoisted upon the shore, and discovered it to belong to three of Captain Grogniet's men, who had refused to follow the expedition, which had just started for the South Sea. Some Indians soon after brought them letters left for the first freebooters who should land, announcing that Grogniet and 170 men had gone into the South Sea, and that 115 Englishmen had preceded them. Soon after Michael and Rose, pursuing a Spanish vessel from Santiago to Carthagena, came in to water, and many of the crew resolved to join their march. 118 men left Michael, and the whole sixty-four of Rose's crew, reimbursing the owners, burnt their vessel and joined them. Ravenau's ship was left in the care of Captain Michael, and the united 264 men now encamped on shore. On Sunday, March 1st, 1685, after recommending themselves to the Almighty's protection, the expedition set out under the command of Captains Rose, Picard, and Desmarais, with two Indian guides and forty Indian porters. The country proved so rugged that they could only travel three leagues a day; it was full of mountains, precipices, and impenetrable forests. Great rains fell, and increased the hardship of the journey, and the weight of their arms and ammunition clogged them in ascending the precipices. On descending into the plain, which, though pathless, appeared smooth and level, they found they had to cross the same river forty-four times in the space of only two leagues, and this upon dangerous and slippery rocks. Arriving next day at an Indian caravansery, they remained some time shooting deer, monkeys, and wild hogs, flame-coloured birds, wild pheasants, and partridges that abounded in the woods. At length, after six days of painful and wearisome travel, the Buccaneers reached the Bocca del Chica river, that empties itself in the South Sea. Here, guided by the Indians, they fell to work making canoes, and bartered knives, needles, and hatchets, with the savages, for maize, potatoes, and bananas. Though well assured that their march had been impossible but for the friendliness of these savages, they still kept on their guard, fearing treachery. "They had," says Ravenau, with a pious sigh of pity, "no sign of religion or of the knowledge of God amongst them, holding that they have communion with the devil," and, indeed, as he declares, after spending solitary nights in the woods, often foretelling events to the Frenchmen, that came true to the minutest detail. Just as they had finished making their canoes, Lussan heard that the English expedition, under Captain Townley, had captured two provision vessels from Lima, and soon after one of Grogniet's men, who had been lost while hunting, joined them. Hearing that Grogniet awaited them at King's Islands, before he attacked the Peru fleet, they started on the 1st of April in fourteen canoes, with twenty oars a piece, and with a score of Indian guides, who were sanguine of plunder. On the fourth they halted for stragglers, and mended their canoes, much injured by the rocks and flats of the river. In some places they were even forced to carry their boats, or to drag them over fallen trees that blocked the deeper parts by the flood. Several men died, and many were seized with painful diseases, produced by hard food and immersion in the water. They were now reduced to a handful of raw maize a day. From some Indians sent forward to meet them, they heard that provisions awaited them at some distance, and that 1000 Spaniards had prepared an ambuscade on the river's banks. This, however, they avoided, by stirring only at dark, and then without noise. Surprised one night by the tide, the canoes were driven swiftly down the river, and some of them upset against a snag; the men were saved, but the arms and ammunition were lost. On approaching the Indian ambuscade at Lestocada, they placed their canoes one in the other, and telling the sentinels that they were Indian boats, bringing salt into the South Sea, escaped unhurt. On the 12th it grew so dark that the rowers could hardly see each other, and the heavy rain filled the boat so dangerously as to require two men to bale perpetually. At midnight they entered shouting into the South Sea, and found the provisions awaiting them at Bocca Chica, together with two barks to bring them to the fleet. Resting for a day or two, they repaired to the King's Islands to await the ships. These mountainous islands were the stronghold of Maroon negroes. On the 22nd, Easter Day, the fleet arrived. It consisted of ten vessels, Captain David's frigate of thirty-six guns, Captain Samms, vice-admiral, with sixteen guns, Captain Townley, with two ships; Captain Grogniet, Captain Brandy, and Captain Peter Henry had also each a vessel, and the two small barks were commanded by quartermasters. Except Grogniet, who was a Frenchman, and David, who was a Fleming, the rest were all Englishmen. Their total force amounted to the number of 1100. Of the different vessels, Ravenau gives the following laudatory account. The admiral's belonged to the English, who, at St. Domingo, had surprised a long bark, commanded by Captain Tristan, a Frenchman, while waiting for a wind. They took next a Dutch ship, and, changing vessels, went and made several prizes on the coast of Guinea, and, at Castres capturing a vessel from Hamburg, joined this expedition. They were, Ravenau declared, little better than pirates, attacking even, their own countrymen, which no true Buccaneer ever did. They had, a short time before, been chastised by a frigate, who, giving them a broadside and a volley of small shot, killed their captain and twenty men. The vice-admiral's was a vessel they had forced to join them, and had lately taken a ship called the _Sainte Rose_, laden with corn and wine, bound from Truxillo to Panama, and this vessel Davis gave to the French. The others were all prizes captured in the South seas. The holy alliance soon after took an advice boat that was carrying letters from Madrid to Panama, and despatches from the viceroy of Peru; but both the captain and pilot were bound by an oath rather to die than deliver up their packets or divulge any secret, and had thrown overboard the rolls as well as a casket of jewels. On the same evening 500 men, in twenty-two canoes, embarked to take La Seppa, a small town seven leagues to windward, of Panama. The next day, early in the morning, two armed piraguas, manned with Spanish mercenaries, seeing some of the Buccaneer canoes and forty-six men approaching them, ran ashore on an island in the bay and prepared to defend themselves. These troops were composed of all nations, and had been sent to defend this coast. One of the "Greek" boats split on the beach. The other the Buccaneers took, but the fugitives, planting their flag of defiance on a rising ground, fought desperately, and compelled the freebooters to land on another part of the island and take them in the rear. After an hour's conflict they fled into the woods, leaving thirty-five men dead round their colours and two prisoners. The attack upon La Seppa proved a failure, for the Sea Rovers had to row two leagues up a river, where they were soon discovered by the sentinels. Yet for all this they fell furiously on, and took it with the loss of only one man; but the booty proved inconsiderable. The fleet now anchored at the beautiful islands called the Gardens of Panama. All the rich merchants of the city had pleasure-houses here surrounded by rich orchards and arbours of jessamine, and watered by rills and streams. The hungry sailors revelled in the fruits, and reaped plentiful harvests of maize and rice, which Ravenau says "the Spaniards, I believe, did not sow with an intention they should enjoy." On the 8th of May they passed the old and new towns of Panama in bravado with colours and streamers flying, anchored at Tavoga, another island of pleasure. Having caulked their ships, they sent out a long bark as a scout, and arranged a plan of attacking the Spanish fleet. Davis and Grogniet were to board the admiral; Samms and Brandy the vice-admiral; and Henry and Townley the patache; while the armed piraguas would hover about and keep off the enemy's fire-ships. The next day they put ashore forty prisoners at Tavoga; and the same day, the sound of cannon, which they could not account for, announced the unobserved arrival of the Spanish fleet at Panama. The whole Buccaneer squadron, expecting a battle soon, took the usual oath that they would not wrong one another to the value of a piece of eight, if God was pleased to give them the victory over the Spaniard. They had scarcely discovered from a Spanish prisoner that the fleet had actually arrived, and was careening and remanning before they ventured out, when Captain Grogniet, raising his flag seven times, gave notice to make quickly ready. The Buccaneers doubled the point of the island where they had anchored, and saw seven great vessels bearing down upon them with a bloody flag to the stern and a royal one at their masts. The Frenchmen, mad with joy at the prospect of such prizes, and thinking them already their own, threw their hats into the sea for joy. It was now noon. The rest of the day was spent by both fleets in trying to obtain the weather-gauge, and at sunset they exchanged a broadside. In the night a floating lanthorn deceived the Buccaneers, and in the morning they found themselves all still to leeward, with the exception of two vessels which had no guns. Although terribly mauled by the Spanish shot, the English admiral and vice-admiral resolved to die fighting rather than let one vessel be taken, although both being good sailors they might have at once saved themselves. The Spaniards, refusing to board, battered them safely at a distance, and prevented Grogniet from joining them, while Peter Henry's ship, having received more than 120 cannon shot, sheered off and was taken by two piraguas. The long bark, sorely handled, was deserted by her crew, who threw their guns overboard and left the Spanish prisoners to shift for themselves. These wretches attempted to rejoin their countrymen; but the Spanish admiral, mistaking them for enemies, sank them with his cannon. Peter Henry's vessel reached the isle of St. John de Cueblo, twenty-four leagues from Panama, with five feet of water in the hold, and having repaired, rejoined his fleet in about a fortnight. They found that Captain Davis had been hard plied, having received two shots in his rudder, and six of his men were wounded, but only one killed. Captain Samms had been no less put to it. His poop was half swept off, and he had received several shots between wind and water. He had had three men wounded, and his mate had had his head carried off by a cannon ball. The smaller vessels had lost no men, but had a few wounded. The Spanish admiral, they found, had carried 56 guns, the vice-admiral 40, the patache 28, and the conserve 18. The fire-ships had also been mounted with cannon to conceal their real purpose. On considering the disparity of force, and the little loss his companions received, Ravenau seems to have no doubt that if they could have intercepted the Spaniards before they entered Panama, and could have got the weather-gauge of them, he should have returned through the straits with wealth enough to have lived all his life at ease, and have escaped three more years of danger and fatigue. Not the least discouraged by this repulse, the freebooters landed 300 men, from five canoes, to surprise the town of Puebla Nueva. Rowing two leagues up a very fine river, they captured one sentinel, but another escaped and gave the alarm. They found the place deserted, but took a ship on their way back. A quarrel broke out here between the French and the English. The latter, superior in numbers, would have taken Grogniet's ship away, and given it to Townley, had not the Frenchmen put on a determined front. Refusing to acknowledge this assumption of dominion, 130 of them banded themselves apart, and Grogniet's crew made them altogether 330 in number. "Besides national animosity, one of the chief reasons," says Lussan, "that made us disagree was their impiety against our religion, for they made no scruple when they got into a church to cut down the arms of a crucifix with their sabres, or to shoot them down with their fusils and pistols, bruising and maiming the images of the saints with the same weapons, in derision to the adoration we Frenchmen paid unto them. And it was chiefly from these horrid disorders that the Spaniards equally hated us all, as we came to understand by divers of their letters that fell into our hands." We have no doubt at all that, but for these "horrible disorders," the Spaniards would have considered the death of their children and the loss of their money as real compliments. Returning to the isle of St. John, both nations in separate encampments began to cut down acajou trees to hollow into canoes in place of those they had lost in the fight. These trees were so large that one trunk would hold eighty men. Afraid of the English, the Frenchmen placed a sentinel in a high tree on the sea-shore, to watch both the camps, and also to give the signal if any Spanish vessel approached. A Buccaneer ship putting into the harbour, they discovered it to be commanded by Captain Willnett. Forty of his crew left him, and joined the English, but eleven Frenchmen remained with Grogniet. This vessel had just captured a corn ship near Sansonnat, and hearing of other brothers being on the south coast, had set out in search of them. The Frenchmen were now very short of food, having little powder, and not daring to waste it upon deer and monkeys when Spaniards were at hand, for in fifteen days the Englishmen had eaten or driven away all the turtle. They were reduced to an allowance of two turtle for 330 men in forty-eight hours. Many of the men wandering into the woods ate poisonous fruits. Others were bitten by serpents, and died enduring terrible pains, ignorant of the fruit which is an antidote to such wounds. Several were devoured by crocodiles. While in this strait, the English sent a quartermaster to ask the French to join in an expedition against the town of Leon, being too weak by themselves. The wounded vanity of the French contended with their hunger. They knew that the English had plenty of provisions, brought in Willnett's ship, and thirty men, weary of fasting, left Grogniet and joined Davis. But Ravenau's party having but one ship asked for another, in order that they might keep together, and this being refused, broke off the treaty. As soon as the Leon party had embarked, the French, commanded by Captain Grogniet, also started with 120 men in five canoes, leaving 200 in the island to build more canoes, and join them on the continent. Coming on the mainland to a cattle station, and afterwards to a sugar plantation, they took several prisoners whom they found ignorant of the disjunction of the French and English. Sending back a canoe with provisions to the island, they landed again about forty leagues to leeward of Panama, and at cock-crowing surprised a Spanish estantia, and took fifty prisoners, including a young man and woman of rank who promised ransom. These they carried to the island Ignuana, and received the money after a fortnight's delay. On their return to St. John's they found that 100 men had been to Puebla Nueva, and taken the place, although discovered by the sentinels, and had remained there two days in spite of continual attacks. The commander of the place had come with a trumpet to speak to them, and inquired why, being English, they fought under French colours. But they, not satisfying his curiosity, fiercely told him to be gone from whence he came. Eight of them, having strayed from the main body, had been bravely set on by 150 Spaniards, who killed two of them, but, with all the advantage they had of numbers, could not hinder the other six from recovering the main guard, who fought and retreated with extraordinary vigour. Once more reunited, these restless Norsemen started to the mainland in six canoes, 140 in number, to visit the sugar plantation near St. Jago, where they had been before. Two men were sent to the cattle station to obtain the ransom of the master, whom they kept prisoner, and others visited the sugar works in search of some cauldrons, which they needed; and, fired at hearing the governor of St. Jago, with 800 men, had visited the place since their departure, they sent to dare him to meet them. Careening their ships and taking in water and wood, they would at once have sailed away, but were detained by eighteen days' rain, during which time the sun did not once appear. This part of the South Sea was proverbial for continual rains, and was called by the Spaniards "The Droppings." "These rains," Ravenau says, "not only rotted their sails, but produced dysentery among the men, and bred worms, half a finger long and as thick as a quill, between their skin and their flesh." Soon after leaving the island they were nearly cast away in a dreadful storm, and were compelled to repair their shattered sails with shirts and drawers, wherewith they were already very indifferently provided. At Realegua, where there was a volcano burning, they landed 100 men in four canoes, and obtained some prisoners by surprising a hatto. They found the English had already taken Leon and burnt Realegua. In spite of Spanish reinforcements from eight neighbouring towns, they stayed at Leon three whole days, and challenged the Spaniards to meet them in the Race savannah. But the Spaniards replied, they were not yet all come together; "which means," says our friend Ravenau, "that they were not yet six to one." While here, one of their quartermasters, a Catalonian by birth, fled to the Spaniards, and compelled the French to abandon a design on the town of Granada. At Realegua six men tried to swim ashore to fill some water casks, in spite of the Spaniards on the beach, and one of them was drowned in the attempt. They landed at the port, and found the churches and houses and three entrenchments half burnt. Surprising the sentinels of Leon, they discovered that in spite of a garrison of 2000 men, the inhabitants, hearing the Buccaneers had landed, were hiding their treasure. They soon after put to flight a detachment of horse, and took the captain prisoner. A few days after this 150 men left the vessels to take a small town of Puebla Vieja, near Realegua, which they found still deserted. It had become the custom now among the Spaniards, when the freebooters had frequently taken the same place, for the prelate to excommunicate it, and henceforward not even to bury their dead there. Discovered by the sentinel, the Buccaneers found the enemy entrenched in the church of Puebla, and about 150 horse in the market-place. A few discharges drove the horsemen away, and the defenders of the church fled through a door in the vestry. Staying a day and a-half in the captured town, the freebooters carried away all the provisions they could find on horses and on their own backs, taking with them a Spanish gentleman who promised ransom. The next day a Spanish officer brought a letter signed by the vicar-general of the province, written by order of the general of Costa Rica, declaring that France and Spain were at peace and leagued to fight the infidel, and offering them a passage to the North Sea in his Catholic Majesty's galleons. To this they returned a threatening answer, and, putting thirty prisoners ashore, proceeded to careen their ships, the Spaniards lighting fires along the coast as they departed. An expedition, with fifty men in three canoes, against the town of Esparso failed, but the hungry men killed and ate the horses of the sentinels whom they took prisoners, for they had now tasted hardly anything for four days. At Caldaria they visited a bananery, and loaded their canoes with the fruit, and at Point Borica stored their boats with cocoa-nuts, which Ravenau takes care to describe as nuts unknown in Europe. Laden with gold, but nevertheless, like Midas, starving for want of food, they landed sixty men in three canoes and took some prisoners at a hatto which they surrounded, but finding they were very near Chiriquita, and a garrison of 600 men, retreated to their ships, forcing their way through 400 horse who reviled them, and challenged them to revisit the town, which they took care soon after to do. On the 5th of January, 1686, they started 230 men in eight canoes to revisit this place, going ashore at night without a guide, and marched till daylight without being discovered. On the 7th they hid all day in a wood, and as night approached again pushed forward, the 8th they spent also hid in a covert, and then found they had gone ashore on the wrong side of the river. Fatigued as they were, they waited till night, and then, returning to their canoes, crossed the river. Surprising the watch, they found the Spaniards, even on the former alarm, had removed all their treasure. On the 9th, they reached Chiriquita two hours before day, and found the inhabitants asleep. The townsmen had been two days disputing with one another about the watches, and the Buccaneers ridiculed them by telling them they had come to spare them the trouble. The soldiers they discovered playing in the court of guard, and they found a small frigate ashore at the mouth of the river. About noon, five of the Buccaneers, straggling into the suburbs to plunder a house and obtain prisoners, were set upon by an ambuscade of 120 men. Finding no hope of escape, rather than be taken alive they resolved to sell their lives dearly, and back to back fought the enemy for an hour and a-half, when only two remained capable of resistance. The main body, who thought they had been simply firing at a mark, came to their relief, upon which the enemy at once fled. Of this skirmish, at which Lussan was present, he says--"This succour coming in so seasonably, did infallibly save our lives; for the enemy having already killed us two men and disabled another, it was impossible we should hold out against such a shower of bullets as were poured in upon us from all sides; and so I may truly say I escaped a scouring, and that without receiving as much as one wound, but by a visible hand of protection from heaven. The Spaniards left thirty men dead upon the spot; and thus we defended ourselves as desperate men, and, to say all in a word, like freebooters." The Buccaneers having burnt all the houses in the town, fearing a night attack, retreated into the great church, exchanging a shot now and then with the enemy. This town was built on the savannahs, and surrounded by hattoes, its chief trade being in tallow and leather. The men rested here till the tenth, rejoicing in plenty of provision after nearly four days' fast. They then removed their prisoners to an island in the river, where the Spaniards could only approach them openly in a fleet of shallops. The enemy, driven out of an ambuscade, sent to demand the prisoners, saying they would recover them or perish in the attempt; but grew pacified when Grogniet declared they should all be put to death if a single bullet was fired. Driving off a guard of 100 men, they also plundered the stranded vessel, and discovered by the letters that the admiral of the Peru fleet had lately been lost with his 400 men, by his vessel being struck by a thunderbolt. On the sixteenth, obtaining a ransom for their prisoners, they returned to the island of St. John. The Spaniards, from fear of the freebooters, having put a stop to their navigation, no ships were to be captured, and having no sails, and their ship being useless without them, the French began to cut down trees and build piraguas. On the 27th they descried seven sail at sea, and put out five canoes to reconnoitre, suspecting it was the vanguard of the Peruvian fleet. Soon after discerning twelve piraguas and three long barks coasting in the distance, they retreated to their docks in the river, and ran their bark ashore to render it useless to the Spaniards, placing an ambuscade of 150 men along the banks. The enemy, suspecting a trick, disregarded the two canoes that were sent to draw them into the snare, but commenced to furiously cannonade the grounded ship, which contained nothing but a poor cat, and then, perceiving her empty, bravely boarded and burnt her for the sake of the iron work, and soon afterwards sailed away. They learnt afterwards that the Chiriquita prisoners had reported that they had fortified the island, and the fleet had been sent to land field-pieces and demolish the works. This alarm of the Spaniards had been encouraged by the Buccaneers having purposely asked at Chiriquita for masons, and obliged the prisoners to give bricks as part of the ransom. On the 14th of March, they left the island of St. John, in two barks, a half galley of forty oars, ten large piraguas, and ten smaller canoes, built of mapou wood. Taking a review of their men, fourteen of whom had died in February, they found they had lost thirty since the departure of the English. To prepare for a long-planned attack on Granada, a half galley and four canoes were despatched to get provisions at Puebla Nueva. Entering the river by moonlight, the Buccaneers approached within pistol shot of a small frigate, a long bark, and a piragua, which they supposed to be their old English allies, but were received by a splashing volley of great and small shot that killed twenty men. The ships were, in fact, a detachment of the Spanish fleet left to guard some provision ships lading for Panama. Quickly recovering from their surprise, the adventurers, though without cannon, fought them stiffly for two hours, killing every man that appeared in the shrouds, and bringing down one by one the grenadiers from the main-top. But as soon as the moon went down, the Buccaneers sheered off with four dead men and thirty-three wounded, waiting for daylight to have their revenge. In the mean time, the enemy had retired under cover of an entrenchment, to which the country people, attracted during the night by the firing, had crowded in arms; against these odds, the Buccaneers were unwillingly compelled to retire, and soon rejoined their canoes at St. Peter's. Landing at a town ten leagues leeward of Chiriquita, they obtained no provisions, and had, with the loss of two men, to force their way through an ambuscade of 500 Spaniards. Rejoining their barks they spent some days in hunting in the Bay of Boca del Toro, and obtaining nourishing food for the wounded men. Their next enterprise was against the town of Lesparso, which they found abandoned. While lying in the bay they were joined by Captain Townley and five canoes, who, with his 115 men, begged to be allowed to join in the expedition against Granada. Remembering the old imperious dealing of the English, the French at first, to frighten them, boarded their canoes, and offered to take them away. "Then," says Lussan, "we let the captain know we were _honester_ men than he (a curious dispute), and that though we had the upper hand, yet we would not take the advantage of revenging the injuries they had done us, and that we would put him and all his men in possession of what we had taken from them four or five hours before." The men were then assembled in a bananery island, in the bay, and an account taken of their supply of powder, for fear any should expend it in hunting. Orders were also enacted that any brother found guilty of cowardice, violence, drunkenness, disobedience, theft, or straggling from the main body, should lose his share of the booty of Granada. On the 25th the French and English departed in piraguas and canoes, 345 men, and landed on a flat shore, following a good guide, who led them for two days through a wood. They were, however, seen by some fishermen, who alarmed the town, which had already received intelligence of their march from Lesparso. Great fatigue obliged them to rest on the evening of the 9th at a sugar plantation belonging to a knight of St. James, whom they were too tired to pursue. On the 10th they saw two ships on the distant lake of Nicaragua, carrying off all the wealth of the town to a neighbouring island. From a prisoner they learnt that the inhabitants were strongly entrenched in the market-place, guarded by fourteen pieces of cannon and six patereroes, and that six troops of horse were waiting to attack them in the rear. This information, which would have damped the courage of any but Buccaneers, drove them only the faster to the charge. At two in the afternoon they entered the town, over the dead bodies of a party that had awaited them in ambuscade, and sent a party to reconnoitre the fort. The skirmishers, after a few shots, returned, and reported that there were three streets leading to the fort, so they all resolved to concentrate in one of these. Lussan describes the scene, of which he was an eye-witness, too graphically to need curtailing. "After we had exhorted one another," he says, "to fall on bravely, we advanced at a good round pace towards the said fortification. As soon as the defendants saw us within a good cannon-shot of them, they fired furiously upon us; but observing that at every discharge of their great guns, we saluted them down to the ground, in order to let their shot fly over us, they bethought themselves of false priming them, to the end we might raise our bodies, after the sham was over, and so to be really surprised with their true firing. As soon as we discovered this stratagem, we ranged ourselves along the houses, and having got upon a little ascent, which was a garden plot, we fired upon them from thence so openly for an hour and a-half that they were obliged to quit their ground, which our hardy boys, who were got to the foot of their walls, contributed yet more than the other by pouring in hand-grenades incessantly upon them, so that at last they betook themselves to the great church or tower, but they wounded us some men. As soon as our people, who had got upon the said eminence, perceived that the enemy fled, they called to us to jump over the walls, which we had no sooner done than they followed us, and thus it was that we made ourselves masters of the town, from whence they fled, after having lost a great many men. We had on our side but four men killed and eight wounded, which in truth was very cheap. When we got into the fort we found it to be a place capable of containing 6,000 fighting men; it was encompassed with a wall the same as our prisoners gave us an account of. It was pierced with many holes, to do execution upon the assailants, and was well stored with arms. That part of it which looked towards the street, through which we attacked it, was defended by two pieces of cannon and four patereroes, to say nothing of several other places made to open in the wall through which they thrust instruments made on purpose to break the legs of those who should be adventurous enough to come near it; but these, by the help of our grenadiers, we rendered useless to them. After we had sung _Te Deum_ in the great church, and set four sentinels in the tower, we fixed our court of guard in the strong-built houses that are also enclosed within the place of arms, and there gathered all the ammunition we could get, and then we went to visit the houses, wherein we found nothing but a few goods and some provision, which we carried into our court of guard." The next evening 150 men were despatched to a distant sugar plantation, to capture some ladies of rank and treasure; but on the next day a monk came to treat about the ransom they would require to spare the town. Unluckily the Spaniards had captured a Buccaneer straggler, who told them that his companions never meant to burn the place, but intended to stop there some months, and return into the North Sea, by the lake of Nicaragua. The freebooters, being refused the ransom, set fire to the houses in revenge. Had the French indeed had but canoes to capture the two ships in the island and secure the treasure, they would undoubtedly have carried out this plan. To a handful of hungry men, without food and without ships, even the gardens of Granada appeared hateful. On leaving the town the Buccaneers took with them one piece of cannon and four patereroes, drawn by oxen, having to fight their way for twenty leagues to the shore over the savannah, surrounded by 2,500 Spaniards thirsting for their blood. In every place the enemy fled at the first discharge of their pieces. From a prisoner they learnt that a million and a-half pieces of eight, kept for ransom, was buried in the wall of the fort, but the men felt no disposition to return. They were soon obliged to leave their cannon behind, the oxen choked with the dust, worn out with the heat, and dying of thirst; but the patereroes were still dragged on by the mules. At the little village of Massaya, near the lake, they were received with open arms by the Indians, who only entreated them not to burn their huts. All the water in the village had been tainted by the Spaniards, but the natives brought them as much as they needed. While they lay here a Spanish monk came to them to obtain the release of a priest who had been taken armed and with pockets filled with poisoned bullets. They refused to surrender him but in exchange for one of their own men. The next day, passing from the forest into a plain, they were attacked by 500 men, drawn up upon an ascent, and commanded by their Spanish deserter. Each party displayed bloody flags, but the vanguard beat them with wonderful bravery, and took fifty horses. The enemy fled, leaving their arms and the wounded, and turned out to be auxiliaries from Leon. In three days more they reached the beach, and, resting several days to salt provisions, sailed to Realegua, where they collected provisions and 100 horses. They then burnt down the borough of Ginandego, in spite of 200 soldiers and an entrenchment, because the inhabitants had defied them to come. Even here they were, however, much straitened for provision, the corregidor of Leon having desired all men to burn the provisions wherever the Buccaneers landed. The same day at noon the sentinels rang the alarm bell in the steeple, and gave notice that 800 men from Leon were advancing across the savannah to fight them. The men, bustling out of their houses, marched at once, 150 in number, under their red colours, and drove off the enemy after a few shots. There now arose a dissension in the Flibustier councils. 148 Frenchmen and all the English, headed by Captain Townley, determined to go up before Panama to see if the navigation had yet been resumed. 148 Frenchmen, under Captain Grogniet, resolved to go lower westward and winter upon an island, waiting for some abatement of the rains and southerly winds. The barks, canoes, and provisions were then divided, and the chirurgeons brought in the accounts of the wounded and crippled. There were found to be four men crippled and six hurt: to the latter were given 600 pieces of eight a man, and to the former 1000, being exactly all the money then in store. Ravenau joined the Panama division, which, touching again at their old quarters on the island of St. John, took off a prisoner who had made his escape when they were last there, and proceeded to land and capture the town of Villia with 160 men. Marching with great rapidity they reached the town an hour after sunrise, and surprising the inhabitants at mass, took 300 prisoners. They then attempted to capture three barks lying in the river, but the Spanish sailors sank one and destroyed the rigging of the other two. Gathering together all the merchandise of the town left by the fleet, the invaders found it to amount to a million and a-half, valued at 15,000 pieces of eight in good silver. Much treasure was, however, buried, the Spaniards submitting to death rather than confess their hiding-places. The next day a party of fourscore men were sent to drive the pack horses to the river side to load the booty in two Spanish canoes. They despaired of obtaining any ransom for the town, as the alcalde major had sent to them to say that the only ransom he should give was powder and ball, whereof he had a great deal at their service; that as to the prisoners, he should entrust them to the hands of God, and that his people were getting ready as fast as they could, to have the honour of seeing them. Upon receiving this daring answer, the Buccaneers, in a rage, fired the town and marched to the river. As the Spanish ambuscades prevented the boats coming up to meet them, the adventurers put nine men on board the boats, the men marching by their side to guard them from attack. On the other side, unknown to them and hidden by the trees, marched 900 Spaniards. When they had proceeded about a league, an impassable thicket compelled them to make a diversion of some 200 paces, an accident which involved the loss of the whole plunder of Villia. Before they left the boats, the captain ordered the crews to stop a little higher up, where the three Spanish barks lay, and endeavour to bring them away. On arriving there they were surprised by an ambuscade, and as they defended themselves against the Spaniards, the current drove them on beyond the three barks and far from the main body. Seeing them now helpless, the enemy discharged sixty musket shots at them, and killed four men and wounded one. The rest, abandoning the canoes, swam to the other side of the river, while a dozen Indians wading in brought the boat to the Spaniards; cutting off the head of a wounded man and setting it on a pole by the shore. The Buccaneers who did not hear the firing, were astonished on returning to the river to see no canoes, and while waiting for them to come up, for they supposed they were behind, the rowers, who had escaped, broke breathless through the thicket, and told their story. Luckily in their flight through the wood they had discovered the rudders and sails of the three barks, in which the Buccaneers at once embarked, and sent fifty-six men on shore to recover the fittings, agreeing that each should fire three guns as a signal. Soon after they had landed, the report of about 500 guns was heard, but before they could reach the enemy the Spaniards had fled. Going ashore the next day, they found the two canoes dashed to pieces, and the bodies of the dead much mutilated--the head of one set upon a pole, and the body of another burnt in the fire. These objects so enraged the Buccaneers, that they instantly cut off four of their prisoners' heads, and set them on poles in the same place. Their own dead they carried with them to bury by the sea-side--the fitting burial-place for seamen. Three times they had to land to break through ambuscades at the river's mouth, in the last attack losing three men. With a Spaniard who came on board, they agreed for a ransom of 10,000 pieces of eight, but threatened to kill all the prisoners if the money was not brought in within two days. Upon the stubborn alcalde seizing the hostages who were sent ashore to obtain money to release their wives, the Buccaneers cut off the heads of two prisoners and sent them to the town, declaring that if no ransom was paid, they would serve the rest the same, and having put the women on an island, would come and capture the alcalde. The same evening came in a promise to pay all the ransoms, and to bring besides, every day while they stayed, ten oxen, twenty sheep, and 200 lbs. of meal. For a Buccaneer's fire-arms which the enemy pretended to have lost (for the Spaniards were fond of French arms), they paid 400 pieces of eight. They also bought one of the captured barks for 600 pieces of eight and 100 lbs. of nails, of which the adventurers stood in great need, but her tackle and anchors were not surrendered. They obtained also a Flibustier passport that the bark should not be retaken, although her cargo might be confiscated. Having then obtained a parting present of 100 salted beeves, from this long-suffering place the French set sail. Afraid to land on the continent, which was guarded by 4,000 men, they abstained, till, nearly dying with thirst, they made a descent with 200 sailors, driving off the Spaniards, whom they found lying on the grass about 100 paces from the sea. Lussan says they saw "we were a people who would hazard all for a small matter." Landing at midnight at a small island near Cape Pin, they were discovered by the pearl divers, but still contrived to capture a ship at daybreak. From their prisoners they heard that the Spaniards had lately defeated a party of thirty-six, French and English, from Peru, who were attempting to pass into the North Sea by the river Bocca del Chica. Two parties of English, forty each, on their way into the South Sea, had also been massacred all but four, who were prisoners at Panama. To balance these ill omens, tidings of prizes reached the Buccaneers on every hand. A bark was lying in the Bocca del Chica river, waiting for 800 lbs. of gold from the mines to bring to Panama. Two ships laden with meal and money for the garrison of Lima were also expected; and from a prisoner (a spy, it afterwards appeared), captured at the King's Islands, they learnt that two merchant barks and a piragua with sixty Indians lay in the river of Seppa, besides a frigate and scout galley under the guns of Panama. Much in want of vessels, and not suspecting the prisoner, four canoes were sent at once to cut out the barks of Panama, the "Greek" soldier going with them readily as a guide. They arrived two hours before daylight, and the moon shining very bright they waited for a cloud to obscure it, seeing, as they thought, the anticipated prize lying near with her sails loose. By mere chance, the adventurers, to waste no time, pursued a vessel just leaving the port, thinking it was the scout galley, and took it without a shot. Upon examination, the captain confessed their guide was the commander of a Greek piragua, and had been promised a large reward by the governor of Panama to betray them into his hands. The ship they saw was a mere sham of boards and sails, built upon firm land, only a pistol shot from the port. They supposed that the Buccaneers, eager to take her, would row up, and so drive their canoes far on shore, and hoped to overpower them before they got off. The Greek captain being at once identified as a spy, was, says Ringrose, "sent to that world where he had designed to send us." The fleet then proceeded to take the islands of Ottoqua and Tavoga, losing two men in the Greek's second ambuscade at Seppa, but capturing in their way a bark from Nata laden with provisions, after a few discharges of musketry, the Spanish captain swimming to shore. From Tavoga they sent a message to the governor of Panama, to say that if he did not at once surrender his five English and French captives, they would at once put to death fifty Spanish prisoners. They then anchored again at the King's Islands, and sent a galley and four canoes up the Bocca Chica river to see if the Indians were at peace with Spain or not, and to destroy an ambuscade of 100 Spaniards, who they heard were lying in wait on the banks for thirty freebooters, on their way from the South to the North Pacific. Carried swiftly up the river by the current, the guide, compelling them to row faster just before daybreak, brought them, much to their astonishment, at a bend of the river, opposite the camp fires of the enemy. The guide being hailed, replied they were from Panama; and being asked the name of the commander, hesitated about a fitting title, and received a volley in return. The Buccaneers driving off the enemy with two patereroes, passed them quickly, and, anchoring out of reach, waited for the ebb tide to return. Putting all their men under deck, the adventurers returned about an hour before daylight, saluting them with four paterero shots as they passed, and receiving no injury in return. The next day, taking a small Indian vessel, the Buccaneers landed lower down the river, intending to take the Spanish entrenchment in the rear; but seeing the enemy putting out a piragua to attack their galley, they returned in great haste and landed opposite the Spanish court of guard, killing a great many men and driving out the rest. They also shot an Indian, who, mistaking them for Spaniards, followed them and reviled them as they were re-embarking. The prisoners told them that the neighbouring town of Terrible was prepared for their coming. A letter to the camp-master of Terrible was found in the entrenchment. It concluded thus: "I have sent you 300 men to defeat these enemies of God and goodness; be sure to keep upon your watch; be afraid of being surprised, and your men will infallibly be gainers in defeating of them." The prisoners also put them on their guard as to many ambuscades and secret dangers. Having burnt the guard-house, and carried off the piragua with some pounds of gold-dust, the Buccaneers departed, dismissing the Indians to propitiate the nation who had received commission from the President of Panama to arm canoes against them. While descending the river, having put some Spanish prisoners on deck to deceive the Indians, some natives came and brought gold-dust to them, taking them for friends. A few days after this, forty Spanish prisoners put ashore at the King's Islands, met accidentally with some canoes, and escaped to Panama. The French were now again surprised as they had been before, three of the enemy's vessels approaching under cover of an island. By venturing a dangerous passage between the island of Tavaguilla and a rock the Buccaneers at last obtained the weather-gauge. The fight lasted till noon, and the Spaniards were driven off in all attempts at boarding. Throwing grenades into the biggest ship, one of them set fire to some loose powder and burnt a great many men; and during this confusion, the adventurers boarded the enemy, who rallied in the stern, and made a vigorous resistance, but at last begged for quarter. The second was also at the same time carried and taken. The third, a kind of galley, pursued by three Buccaneer vessels, ran ashore and staved to pieces, few of the crew escaping, not more than a dozen, Ringrose thinks. In the frigate eighty men were killed and wounded out of 120 on board. The second ship had only eighteen unhurt out of eighty. All the officers were killed and wounded, and the captain received no less than five musket shots. He was the soldier that had received five wounds resisting them at Puebla Nueva, and he had also planned the ambuscade at Villia. While busily employed in splicing the rigging and throwing the dead overboard, two more sail were seen bearing down from Panama. The English instantly put up Spanish colours to allure them, and placed the French and English beneath them. As the foe drew near, they received a volley, and, firing hurriedly, at once fled to the frigate which they supposed still theirs. The frigate replied by some grenades, which sent one to the bottom, and the piragua boarded the other, and, finding four packs of halters on board, put all the crew to death in revenge. They had been directed to spare none but the Buccaneer surgeons, and to send troops of horse to cut off all that escaped in canoes. On the very next day they took a shallop from Panama which the president had sent to pull up an anchor that the adventurers had left in the bay. Only one Buccaneer was killed in the fight, but Captain Townley and twenty men were wounded, and most of these died, for the Spaniards poisoned their bullets. They now sent a prisoner to the president, demanding his five captives and medicines for the use of his own people. The messenger was also told to complain heavily of the massacre of the three parties at Darien. To these remonstrances the officer sent the following answer: "Gentlemen, I wonder that you, who should understand how to make war, should require those men of me that are in our custody. Your rashness hath something contrary to the civility wherewith you ought to treat those people that were in your power. If you do not use them well, God will perhaps be on our side." To this they returned a threat of beheading all their prisoners without mercy; and having done this, sailed at once to the isles of Pericòs, fearing the Spanish fire-ships. The Bishop of Panama, who, they knew, had stirred up the president to war, sent a letter, entreating them to show mercy, saying the president had the king's orders to restore no prisoners, and that the Englishmen, having turned Roman Catholics, did not wish to leave Panama. Upon this the Buccaneers sent the president twenty Spaniards' heads in a canoe, threatening to kill all the rest, if the prisoners were not restored by the next day. Very early the next morning came the prisoners, four Englishmen and one Frenchman, with medicines for the wounded, the president leaving to their honour to give as many men as they chose in exchange. They at once sent a dozen of the most wounded on shore, accusing the president of being the murderer of the twenty they had killed, and threatening the death of the rest, unless 20,000 pieces of eight were paid for their ransom. The Spaniards at first tried to make it only 6000; but when the Buccaneers hung out their main flag, fired a gun, and prepared to enter the port, they hung out a white flag at a bastion, and promised the money shortly. The next day a Knight of Malta came in a bark with the money, and received the prisoners. While staying at Ottoqua to victual their ships, the Spaniards landed at night and murdered their Indian guides. The day after the French chased a provision vessel to the very guns of Panama, when the garrison hoisted the Burgundian flag on the bastion, and by mistake fired upon their own vessel, which the Buccaneers took. Putting nineteen prisoners on shore, they again attempted to surprise Villia, but failed, finding all the people in arms, and a reinforcement of 600 men newly come from Panama. They next took the town of St. Lorenzo, and surprising it at twilight, burnt it. They learned the Spaniards had orders to drive away the cattle from the sea-shore, to lay ambuscades, and to obtain from women intelligence of the Buccaneers' movements. A dreadful storm which overtook the fleet in the Bay of Bocca del Toro induced Lussan, with a naïve philanthropy, to tell his readers: "If you would enter into it with safety, you must keep the whip of your rudder to starboard, because it is dangerous to keep to the east side." While here the same writer gives us the following trait of Flibustier manners:--"On the 25th, being Christmas-day, after we had, according to custom, said our prayers in the night, one of our quartermasters being gone ashore in order to take care about our eating some victuals (for our ships being careening all our provisions were then put out), one of our prisoners, who served us as cook, stabbed him with a knife in six several places, wherewith crying out, he was presently relieved, and the assassin punished with death." On the 1st of January, 1687, leaving their ships in the bay of Caldaira, the Buccaneers embarked 200 men in canoes and crossed to the island of La Cagna. Their treacherous guide, under the pretence of hiding them in a covert, led them into a marsh, where the mud, in the soundest places, rose above their middles; five men sinking up to their chins were dragged out with ropes tied to the mangrove branches. The men, anxious for escape, lifted up their guide to the top of a tree, to discover by the moonlight where sound land commenced. But he, once at liberty, skipped like a monkey from tree to tree, railing at them and deriding their helplessness. They spent the whole night in marching a hundred paces round this marsh, and groped out at daybreak, bedaubed from head to toe, with their fire-arms loaded with mud. "When we were in a condition," says Lussan, "to reflect a little upon ourselves, and that we saw 200 men in the same habit, all so curiously equipped, there was not one of us who forgot not his toil to laugh at the posture he found both himself and the rest in. Inveighing against their guide, they returned to their canoes, and proceeded two leagues up a river to an entrenchment, where they found the remains of two vessels the Spaniards had some time before burnt, at the approach of Betsharp, an English freebooter. Guided by the barking of dogs, they surprised the borough of Santa Catalina, and, mounting sixty men on horses, entered Nicoya and drove out the enemy, carrying off the governor's plate and movables. They found here some letters from the President of Panama, describing the doings of "these new Turks," how they had landed at places where the sea was so high that no sentinels had been placed, and passed through the woods like wild beasts. The letters stated how much the Spaniards had been astonished by the Buccaneer mode of attack--"briskly falling on, singing, dancing, as if they had been going to a feast;" they were described also as "those enemies of God and His saints who profane His churches and destroy His servants." In one battle, it says, being blocked up, "they became as mad dogs. Whenever these irreligious men set their feet on land they always win the victory." Landing at Caldaira the sentinels set fire to the savannahs, through which they marched to Lesparso, and towards Carthage, but retired, hearing of 400 men and an entrenchment. Hiding five men in the grass, they captured a Spanish trooper, who had reviled them, and putting him to the rack, laughing at his grimaces of pain, heard that Grogniet was in the neighbourhood, and soon after they heard cannons fired off, and were joined by him in three canoes. He now told them his adventures at Napalla. Three sailors, corrupted by the Spaniards, who had taken them prisoners, persuaded him on his return to visit a gold mine, fourteen leagues from the sea-shore. They luckily got there before the ambuscade, and took some prisoners and a few pounds of gold, but 450 lbs. weight had been removed an hour before. At their return they found the traitors and prisoners all escaped. He then landed at Puebla Vieja and attacked an ambuscade and entrenchment of 300 men. Half of these fled, half were made prisoners, and their three colours taken, the freebooters losing only three men. Eighty-five of his men then determined to visit California, and he and his sixty men to return to Panama. Grogniet now consented to join in the French expedition, and, after taking Queaquilla, to force a way to the North Sea. They landed and burnt Nicoya a third time, and Lussan treats us here with an amusing piece of Buccaneer superstition. He says, "though we were _forced_ to chastise the Spaniards in this manner, we showed ourselves very exact in the preservation of the churches, into which we carried the pictures and images of the saints which we found in particular houses, that they might not be exposed to the rage and burning of the English, who were not much pleased with these sorts of precautions; they being men that took more satisfaction and pleasure to see one church burnt than all the houses of America put together. But as it was our turn now to be the stronger party, they durst do nothing that derogated from that respect we bore to all those things." On their return the French had to force their way through burning savannahs, but got safe to their ships, putting next day forty prisoners on shore who were too chargeable to keep. A new division now arose between the English and French, and the former insisting on the first prize taken, the two parties again separated, Grogniet staying with the former: making in all 142 men, Ravenau's party being 162, in a frigate and long bark. Both vessels now tried to outsail each other and reach Queaquilla first, but the French, soon finding the English beat them in speed, resolved to accompany them, for they had so little food as to be obliged to eat only once in every forty-eight hours, and but for rain water would have died of thirst. Off Santa Helena, they gave chase to a ship, and found it to be a prize laden with wine and corn, lately taken by Captain David's men, for they had been making descents along the coast, at Pisca had beaten off 800 men from Lima, and had also taken a great many ships, which they pillaged and let go. Having got to the value of 5000 pieces of eight a man, they sailed for Magellan, and on the way many of the men lost all they had by gaming. Those who had won joined Willnett, and returned to the North Sea; but the losers, sixty English and twenty French, joined David, and determined to remain and get more spoil in the South. Henry and Samms had gone to the East Indies. The eight men of David's crew who commanded the prize joined them against Queaquilla. Furling their sails to prevent being seen, they anchored off the White Cape, and at ten in the morning embarked 260 men in their canoes. On the 15th they reached, at sunset, the rocky island of Santa Clara, and on the 16th rested all day, weak from long fasting, in the island of La Puna, escaping any detection from the forty sentinels. The 17th they spent on the same island, and arranged the attack. Captain Picard and fifty men led the forlorn hope, another captain and eighty grenadiers formed a reserve. Captain Grogniet and the main body were to make themselves masters of the town and port, and the English captain, George Hewit, with fifty men, were to attack the smaller fort; while 1000 pieces of eight were promised to the first ensign who should plant the colours on the great fort. They left their covert in the evening, and hoped to reach the town by dawn, but only having three hours of favourable tide, had to remain all day at the island, and at night rowing out, were overtaken after all by the light, when a sentinel seeing them, set a cottage on fire and alarmed his companions. Marching across a wood to the fire, they killed two of the Spaniards and captured a boy. Remaining in covert all day, they thought themselves undiscovered, because the town had not answered the fire signal, and at night they rowed up the river, the rapid current carrying them four leagues in two hours. All the 19th they spent under cover of an island in the river, and at night went up with the current, not rowing for fear of alarming the sentinels. They attempted in vain to put in beyond the town, on the side least guarded, but the tide going out forced them to land two hours before day, within cannon shot of the town, where they could discern the lights burning, for the Spaniards burnt lamps all night. They landed in a marshy place, and had to cut a path through the bushes with their sabres. They soon met with a sentinel, and were discovered by one of the men left to guard the canoes striking a light, against orders, to light his pipe. The sentinel, knowing that this was punishable by death among his countrymen, suspected enemies and discharged a paterero, which the fort answered by a discharge of all their cannon. The Buccaneers, overtaken by a storm, entered a large house near to light the matches of their grenades and wait for day, the enemy firing incessantly in defiance. On the 20th, at daybreak, they marched out in order, with drums beating and colours, and found 700 men waiting for them behind a wall, four feet and a-half high, and a ditch. Killing many of the Buccaneers at the onset, the enemy ventured to sally out, sword in hand, and were at once put to flight. In spite of the bridge being broken down, the pursuers crossed the ditch, and, getting to the foot of the wall, threw in grenades, and drove the enemy to their houses. Driven also from this, they fled to a redoubt in the Place d'Armes, and from thence, after an hour's fighting, to a third fort, the largest of all. Here they defended themselves a long time, firing continually at their enemies, who could not see them for the smoke. From these palisadoes they again sallied, and wounded several Buccaneers and took one prisoner. They at last retreated with great loss. The Flibustiers, weary with eleven hours' fighting, and finding their powder nearly spent, grew desperate; but, redoubling their efforts, with some loss made themselves masters of the place, having nine men killed and a dozen wounded. Parties were then sent out to pursue the fugitives, and a garrison having been put in the great fort, the Roman Catholic part of the band went to sing _Te Deum_ in the great church. Basil Hall describes Guayaquil as having on the one side a great marsh, and on the other a great river, while the country, for nearly 100 miles, is a continued level swamp, thickly covered with trees. The river is broad and deep, but full of shoals and strange turnings, the woods growing close to the water's edge, stand close, dark, and still, like two vast black walls; while along the banks the land-breeze blows hot, and breathes death, decay, and putrefaction. The town was walled, and the forts built on an eminence. The houses were built of boards and reared on piles, on account of the frequent inundations. The chief trade of the place was cocoa. The Buccaneers took 700 prisoners, including the governor and his family. He himself was wounded, as were most of his officers, who fought better than all the 5,000 men of the place. The place was stored with merchandise, precious stones, silver plate, and 70,000 pieces of eight. Upwards of three millions more had been hidden while the fort was taking. As soon as the canoes had come up, they were sent in pursuit of the treasure, but it was too late. They captured, however, 22,000 pieces of eight, and a vermilion gilt eagle, weighing 66 lbs., that had served as the tabernacle for some church. It was of rare workmanship, and the eyes were formed of two great "rocks of emeralds." There were fourteen barks in the port--the galleys they had fought at Puebla Nueva, and two royal ships unfinished on the stocks. As a ransom for all these things, the governor promised a million pieces of eight in gold, and 400 sacks of corn, requiring the vicar-general to be released to go to Quito and procure it. The women of the town, who were very pretty, had been assured by their confessors that the Buccaneers were monsters and cannibals, and had conceived a horror and aversion to them. "They could not be dispossessed thereof," says Lussan, "till they came to know us better. But then I can boldly say that they entertained quite different sentiments of our persons, and have given us frequent instances of so violent a passion as proceeded sometimes even to a degree of folly." As a proof of the calumnies circulated against the ruthless conquerors, Lussan tells us the following:--"It is not from a chance story," he continues, "that I came to know the impressions wrought in these women that we were men that would eat them; for the next day after the taking of the town, a young gentlewoman that waited upon the governor of the place, happened to fall into my hands. As I was carrying her away to the place where the rest of the prisoners were kept, and to that end made her walk before me, she turned back, and, with tears in her eyes, told me, in her own language--'Senor, pur l'amor di Dios ne mi como'--that is, 'Pray, sir, for the love of God, do not eat me;' whereupon I asked her who had told her that we were wont to eat people? She answered, 'The fathers,' who had also assured them that we had not human shape, but that we resembled monkeys." On the 21st, part of the town was accidentally burnt down by some of the men lighting a fire in a house, and leaving it unextinguished when they returned at night to the court of guard. Afraid that it would reach the place where they had stored their powder and merchandise, the French removed all the plunder to their vessels, and carried the prisoners to the fort; but not till all this was done endeavouring to save the town, a third part of which was, by this time, destroyed. Afraid the Spaniards might now refuse to pay the ransom, they charged them with the offence, threatening to send some fifty prisoners' heads if they did not pay them what they had lost by the fire. The enemy, surprised at this, attributed the incendiarism to traitors, and promised satisfaction. The stench of the 900 dead carcases, still lying unburied up and down the town, now producing a pestilence, the Buccaneers dismounted and spiked the cannon, and carried off the 500 prisoners to their ships, anchoring at Puna. Captain Grogniet died of his wounds soon after this removal. The Spaniards obtaining four days' further respite, and then still further delaying the ransom, the adventurers made the prisoners throw dice for their lives, and cutting off the heads of four, sent them to Queaquilla, threatening further deaths. They were now joined by Captain David and a prize he had lately taken. He was planning a descent on Paita, to obtain refreshments for some men wounded in a fight with a Spanish ship, the Catalina, off Lima. They fought for two days, David's men, being drunk, constantly getting to leeward, and failing twenty times in an attempt to board. The Spaniards, gaining courage from these failures, hoisted the bloody flag; but the third day, David, getting sober, got his tackle and rigging in good order, got properly to windward, and bore down with determination. The enemy in terror ran ashore, and went to pieces in two hours. Two men were saved by a canoe, and said that their captain had had his thigh shot off by a cannon ball. David's ship, wanting refitting, was employed to cruise in the bay to prevent surprises from the Spaniards. By a letter taken from a courier, they found that the people of Queaquilla were only endeavouring to obtain time. The Buccaneers spent thirty days on the island of La Puna, living on the luxurious food brought from Queaquilla, and employing the prisoners with lutes, theorbos, harps, and guitars, to delight them by perpetual concerts and serenades. Lussan says, "Some of our men grew very familiar with our women prisoners, who, without offering them any violence, were not sparing of their favours, and made appear, as I have already remarked, that after they came once to know us, they did not retain all the aversion for us that had been inculcated into them when we were strangers unto them. All our people were so charmed with this way of living that they forgot their past miseries, and thought no more of danger from the Spaniards than if they had been in the middle of Paris." Ravenau also treats us with his own personal love adventure, which we insert as a curious illustration of the vicissitudes of a South Sea adventurer's life. "Amongst the rest," he says, "myself had one pretty adventure. Among the other prisoners we had a young gentlewoman, lately become a widow of the treasurer of the town, who was slain when it was taken. Now this woman appeared so far comforted for her loss, out of an hard-heartedness they have in this country one for another, that she proposed to hide me and herself in some corner of the island till our people were gone, and that then she would bring me to Queaquilla to marry her, that she would procure me her husband's office, and vest me in his estate, which was very great. When I had returned her thanks for such obliging offers, I gave her to understand that I was afraid her interest had not the mastery over the Spaniards' resentments; and that the wounds they had received from us were yet too fresh and green for them easily to forget them. She went about to cure me of my suspicion, by procuring secretly, from the governor and chief officers, promises under their hands how kindly I should be used by them. I confess I was not a little perplexed herewith, and such pressing testimonies of goodwill and friendship towards me brought me, after a little consultation with myself, into such a quandary, that I did not know which side to close with; nay, I felt myself, at length, much inclined to close with the offers made me, and I had two powerful reasons to induce me thereunto, one of which was the miserable and languishing life we lead in those places, where we were in perpetual hazard of losing it, which I should be freed from by an advantageous offer of a pretty woman and a considerable settlement: the other proceeded from the despair I was in of ever being able to return into my own country, for want of ships fit for that purpose. But when I began to reflect upon these things with a little more leisure and consideration, and that I resolved with myself how little trust was to be given to the promises and faith of so perfidious as well as vindictive a nation as the Spaniards, and more especially towards men in our circumstances, by whom they had been so ill-used, this second reflection carried it against the first, and even all the advantages offered me by this lady. But however the matter was, I was resolved, in spite of the grief and tears of this pretty woman, to prefer the continuance of my troubles (with a ray of hope of seeing France again), before the perpetual suspicion I should have had of some treachery designed against me. Thus I rejected her proposals, but so as to assure her I should retain, even as long as I lived, a lively remembrance of her affections and good inclinations towards me." After some negotiation with a priest, the people of Queaquilla brought in twenty-four sacks of meal, and 20,000 pieces of eight in gold. On their refusing more than 22,000 pieces of eight more for ransom, a council was held to decide upon putting all the prisoners to death, but at last, Ravenau being in the majority, decided to spare them. They then took fifty of the richest prisoners with them to the point of St. Helena, and surrendered the rest on 22,000 more being paid. While at La Puna, the Buccaneers sallied out to attack two Spanish armadillas, but not having any piraguas to tow them to the windward, could only cannonade at a distance. The French vessels were much shattered, but no man killed. The next day they came to close fight, both sides using small arms and great guns, but no Buccaneer was killed. The Spaniards lost many men, and the blood ran out of their scupper holes, but they still cried at parting, "A la manana, la partida"--(to-morrow, again.) The next night the Buccaneers unrigged and sank one of their prizes, and fitted out another, manning her with twenty Frenchmen, who wanted to leave David. The same night four Spaniards seized one of the prizes, and escaped to Queaquilla. Being now within half cannon shot, the rival vessels pounded each other all day; the French had their tackle spoiled, and sails riven, and the frigate received five cannon-shot in the foremast, and three in the mainmast, but had not one man killed or wounded. The next day the Spaniards hoisted Burgundian colours, and poured in volleys of musket-shot, but neither party boarded. The ensuing day the Buccaneer musketry was so destructive, that the Spaniards closed their port-holes and bore up to the wind. That day the French received sixty shots in their sides, two-thirds between wind and water, the rigging was torn, and Ravenau and another man were wounded. At night the Spaniards failed in an attempt to board. We spent this night at anchor, says Lussan, to stop our cannons' mouths, which otherwise might have sent us into the deep. To his astonishment, the next morning the armadillas had fled. During these successive days' fighting, the governor and officers of Queaquilla had been brought on deck to witness the defeat of their countrymen. They then set their prisoners ashore and divided the plunder, the whole amounting to 500,000 pieces of eight, or 15,000,000 livres, and in shares to 400 pieces of eight a man. The uncoined gold and the precious stones being of uncertain value were sold by auction, that those who had silver and had won in gambling might buy. All who expected an overland expedition were anxious for jewels, as more portable and less heavy than silver. They sought now in their descent for nothing but gold and jewels, quite disregarding silver as a mean metal and heavy to carry. They even left many things in Queaquilla, and neglected to send a canoe for the 100 caons of coined silver (11,000 pieces of eight in all) which had been sent to the opposite river side. Taking advantage of their indifference, Spanish thieves mixed with the Buccaneers, and pillaged their own countrymen. They landed at Point Mangla, and surprised a watch of fifteen Spanish soldiers who had been placed to guard a river abounding in emeralds. A few days after they took a vessel from Panama going to Porto Bello to buy negroes off the point of Harina. The French fleet was next attacked by a Spanish galley and two piraguas. From a prisoner they heard of 300 Frenchmen, who had defeated 600 Spaniards and killed their leader in the savannahs. While careening in the bay of Mapalla they were joined by these men, who proved to be part of Grogniet's men, who had left their companions on the coast of Acapulco, refusing to go further towards California. The adventurers next landed in the Bay of Tecoantepequa, and dispersing a body of 300 Spaniards, drawn up upon an eminence, marched inland towards the town, sleeping all night in the open air. Nothing but hunger and despair could have induced this attack. The town was intersected by a great and very rapid river, encompassed by eight suburbs, and defended by 3000 men. The Buccaneers forded the river, the water up to their middles, and after an hour's fighting forced the Spaniards from their entrenchment. In two hours these men, enraged with hunger, took the place by hand-to-hand fighting, and eighty sailors then dislodged the enemy from the abbey of St. Francis, whose terraces commanded the town. Finding the river overflowing and no ransom coming, the Buccaneers departed the next day, and landing at Vatulco, took the old governor of Merida prisoner, and obtained some provisions. They also landed at Muemeluna and victualled, the Spaniards having strong entrenchments, but making little resistance. They found upon the shore the musket and dead body of a sailor of a frigate that had attempted to land a month before. The Spaniards had not seen the body, or they would have cut in pieces or burnt it, as they were in the habit of even digging up the Buccaneers buried on their shores. At Sansonnat they landed in the face of 600 Spaniards to fill their water-casks, being faint from thirst. One of the men, more impatient than the rest, and goaded by four days' drought, swam ashore and was drowned, without any being able to help him. They now held serious councils about the return by land. The prisoners declared their best way was by Segovia, where they would _only_ meet 5000 or 6000 Spaniards, and that the way was easy for the sick and wounded. The French determined to land and obtain more certain information, and this was one of the most daring of their adventures. They landed seventy men, and marched two days without meeting anybody, upon which eighteen, less weary than the rest, tramped on and soon got into a high road. Capturing three horsemen, they learnt that they were but a quarter of a league distant from Chiloteca, a little town with about 400 white inhabitants, besides negroes, Indians, and mulattoes, who were not aware of their approach. Afraid to waste time in running back after their companions, they entered the town, frightened the Spaniards, and took the Teniente and fifty others prisoners. Had there not been horses ready mounted, on which they made their escape, the enemy would, every man, have submitted to be bound, being overcome with a panic fear, and believing the enemy very numerous. They learned from the prisoners that the Panama galley lay waiting for them at Caldaira, and the _St. Lorenzo_, with thirty guns, at Realegua. They also said that 600 men would be in the town by the next day. The Spaniards now began to rally, and compelled the Buccaneers to entrench themselves in the church. The prisoners, seeing them hurry in, and thinking them hard pressed, ran to a pile of arms and prepared to make a resistance; but the Buccaneers, retreating to the doors, fired at the crowd till only four men and their wives were left alive. They then mounted horses and retreated, carrying off four prisoners of each sex, and firing at a herald who tried to parley. Joining their companions, whom they found resting at a hatto, they made a stand and drove back 600 Spaniards. The statements of the prisoners increased their fears of the overland route, but determining rather to die sword in hand than to pine away with hunger, they at once resolved upon their design. Running all the vessels ashore but the galley and piraguas, which would take them from the island to the mainland, leaving no other means of escape to the timorous, they formed four companies of seventy men, choosing ten men from each as a forlorn hope, to be relieved every morning. Those who were lamed were to have, as formerly, 1000 pieces of eight, the horses were to be kept for the crippled and wounded. The stragglers who were wounded were to have no reward, whilst violence, cowardice, and drunkenness were to be punished. While maturing their plans, a Spanish vessel approached, and anchoring, began to fire at the grounded vessels, and soon put them out of a condition to sail. Afraid of losing their piraguas, the Buccaneers sent their prisoners and baggage to some flats behind the island. The next day, the Frenchmen, sheltering themselves behind the rocks that ran out to the sea, kept the vessel at a distance; but now afraid of total destruction, the Buccaneers sent 100 men to the continent at night to secure horses, and wait for them at a certain port. On the next day, the Spanish ship took fire, and put out to sea to extinguish the flames. The next day the Buccaneers escaped by a stratagem. Having spent the whole night in hammering the vessel, as if careening, to prevent all suspicion of their departure, they charged all their guns, grenades, and four pieces of cannon, and tied to them pieces of lighted matches of various lengths, in order to keep up an alarm throughout the night. In the twilight they departed as secretly as they could, the prisoners carrying the surgeons' medicines, the carpenters' tools, and the wounded men. On the 1st of January, 1688, the Buccaneers arrived on the continent. On the evening of the same day the men joined them with sixty-eight horses and several prisoners, all of whom dissuaded them in vain from attempting to go by Segovia, where the Spaniards were fully alarmed. The men, nothing deterred, packed up each his charge, and thrust their silver and ammunition into bags. Those who had too much to carry, gave it to those who had lost theirs by gaming, promising them half "in case it should please God to bring them safe to the North Sea." Ravenau de Lussan tells us his charge was lighter but not less valuable than the others, as he had converted 30,000 pieces of eight into pearls and precious stones. "But as the best part of this," he says, "was the product of luck I had at play, some of those who had been losers, as well in playing against me as others, becoming much discontented at their losses, plotted together to the number of seventeen or eighteen, to murder those who were richest amongst us. I was so happy as to be timely advertised of it by some friends, which did not a little disquiet my mind, for it was a very difficult task for a man, during so long a journey, to be able to secure himself from being surprised by those who were continually in the same company, and with whom we must eat, drink, and sleep, and who could cut off whom they pleased of us in the conflicts they might have with the Spaniards, by shooting us in the hurry." To frustrate this scheme, Ravenau therefore divided his treasure among several men, and by this means removed a weight both from his mind and body. On the 2nd of January, after having said prayers and sunk their boats, the Buccaneers set out, resting at noon at a hatto. On the 4th they lay on a mountain plateau, the Spaniards visible on their flanks and rear. On the 5th the barricades began, and on the 6th, at an estantia, they found the following letter lying on a bed in the hall: "We are very glad that you have made choice of our province for your passage homewards, but are sorry you are not better laden with silver; however, if you have occasion for mules we will send them to you. We hope to have the French General Grogniet very quickly in our power, so we will leave you to judge what will become of his soldiers." On the 7th the vanguard drove off an ambuscade, and lay that evening in a hatto. The Spaniards burnt all the provisions in the way, and set fire to the savannahs to windward, stifling the French horses with smoke and scaring them with the blaze. While their march was thus retarded and they waited for the fire to burn out, the enemy threw up intrenchments and erected barricades of trees. On the 8th the French set fire to a house at a sugar plantation, and, hiding till the Spaniards came to put it out, captured a prisoner, who told them that 300 auxiliaries were on the march to meet them. "These 300 men," says Lussan, "were our continual guard, for they gave us morning and evening the diversion of their trumpets, but it was like the _music of the enchanted palace of Psyche_, who heard it without seeing the musicians, for ours marched on each side of us, in places so covered with pine trees that it was impossible to perceive them." During this march the Buccaneers never encamped but upon high ground, or in the open savannah, for fear of being hemmed in. The advanced guard was now strengthened by forty men, who discharged their muskets at the entries and avenues of woods, to dislodge the ambuscades, but they did not shoot when the plain was open and free from wood; although the Spaniards, who were lying on their bellies on each side of them, opened their fire and killed two stragglers. On the 10th they repulsed an ambuscade and captured some horses. On the 11th they dispersed another ambuscade, and entered Segovia, but all the provisions had been burnt, and the Spaniards fired upon them from among the pine trees that grew on the hills around the town. Fortunately at this spot, where the old guides grew uncertain of the way, they captured a new prisoner, who led them twenty leagues to the river they were in search of. The road now grew wilder, and dangers thickened around them. They had to creep with great danger to the tops of great mountains, or to bury themselves in narrow and dark valleys. The cold grew intense, and the fogs lasted for some hours after daybreak. In the plains no chill was felt, but the same heat that prevailed on the mountains after noon. "But," says Lussan, "the hopes of getting once more into our native country made us endure patiently all these toils, and served as so many wings to carry us." On the 12th, they ascended several mountains, and had incredible trouble to clear the road of the Spanish barricades, and all night long the enemy fired into their camp. On the 18th, an hour before sunrise, they ascended an eminence which seemed advantageous for an encampment, and saw on the edge of an eminence, separated from them by a narrow valley, what they believed to be cattle feeding. Rejoiced at the prospect of food, forty men were sent to reconnoitre. They returned with the dismal intelligence that the supposed oxen were really troopers' horses ready saddled, and that the mountain on which they stood was encircled by three intrenchments, rising one above another, commanding a stream that ran through the valley. They had no other way but this to pass, and there was no possibility of avoiding it. They added, that one of the Spaniards had seen them, and shook his naked cutlass at them from a distance. Every man's heart fell at this news, and their pining appetite sickened at the loss of its expected meal. There was no time for delay, for the Spaniards from the adjacent provinces were gathering in their rear, and if any time was lost they must be surrounded and overpowered by numbers. Ravenau de Lussan, the Xenophon of this retreat, did not attempt to conceal the extent of the danger. He confesses himself that they were hard put to it, and that escape would have seemed impossible to any other men but to those who had been hitherto successful in almost every undertaking. He addressed his companions, and artfully persuaded them to agree to his plans, by first elaborating the extent of their difficulties. He said that 10,000 men could not force their way through such intrenchments, guarded by so many men as the Spaniards had, judging from the number of their horses. Nor could they pass by the side of it, with all their horses and baggage, seeing that the path could only be entered in single file. Except the road, all was a thick, pathless forest, full of quagmires, and encumbered by fallen trees; and even if these impediments were passed, the Spaniards would have still to be fought with. The Buccaneers agreed to these as truisms, but cried out that it was to no purpose to talk of difficulties so apparent, without proposing some method of surmounting them, and suggesting some means for its execution. Upon this hint De Lussan spoke. He proposed to cross those woods, precipices, mountains, and rocks, how inaccessible soever they seemed, and gaining the weather-gauge of the enemy, take them at once in the rear, suddenly and unexpectedly. The success of this plan he would answer for at the peril of his life. The prisoners, horses, and baggage he resolved to leave guarded by eighty men, to keep off the 300 Spaniards who hovered around them at day and at night, encamped at a musket-shot distance. These eighty men could answer for four times as many Spaniards. After some deliberation, De Lussan's plan was agreed to, and the execution at once resolved upon. Examining the mountain carefully with the keen eyes of both hunters and sailors, they could see a road winding along the side of the mountain, above the highest intrenchment. This they could only trace here and there by light spots visible between the trees, but once across this they were safe. Full of hope, and with every faculty aroused, some of the men were sent to a spot higher than the main body, to cover another party who had on previous occasions proved themselves ingenious and expert, and who were sent to pick out the safest and most direct spots by which they could get in the rear of the enemy before day broke. As soon as these scouts returned the men made ready for their departure, leaving their baggage guarded by eighty men. To prevent suspicion, the officer in command had orders to make every sentinel he set or relieved in the night-time fire his fusil and to beat his drum at the usual hour. He was told that if God gave them the victory they would send a party to bring him off, but that if an hour after all firing ceased they saw no messenger, they were to provide for their own safety. The immediate narrative of this wonderful escape we give in De Lussan's own words:--"Things being thus disposed," he says, "we said our prayers as low as we could, that the Spaniards might not hear us, from whom we were separated but by the valley. At the same time, we set forward to the number of 200 men by moonlight, it being now an hour within night; and about one more after our departure we heard the Spaniards also at their prayers, who, knowing we were encamped very near them, fired about 600 muskets in the air to frighten us. Besides, they also made a discharge at all the responses of the litany which they sang. We still pursued our march, and spent the whole night (in going down and then getting up) to advance half a-quarter of a league, which was the distance between them and us, through a country, as I have already said, so full of rocks, mountains, woods, and frightful precipices, that our posteriors and knees were of more use to us than our legs, it being impossible for us to travel thither otherwise. On the 14th, by break of day, as we got over the most dangerous parts of this passage, and had already seized upon a considerable ascent of the mountain by clambering up in great silence, and leaving the Spaniards' retrenchments to our left, we saw their party that went the rounds, who, thanks to the fogs, did not discover us. As soon as they were gone by, we went directly to the place where we saw them, and found it to be exactly the road we were minded to seize on. When we had made a halt for about half an hour to take breath, and that we had a little daylight to facilitate our march, we followed this road by the voice of the Spaniards, who were at their morning prayers, and we were but just beginning our march, when, unfortunately, we met with two out-sentinels, on whom we were forced to fire, and this gave the Spaniards notice, who thought of nothing less than to see us come down from above them upon their intrenchments, since they expected us no other way than from below; so that those who had the guard thereof, and were in number about 500 men, finding themselves on the outside, when they thought they had been within, and consequently open without any covert, took the alarm so hot, that falling all on them at the same time, we made them quit the place in a moment, and make their escape by the favour of the fog." The sequel is soon told. The defenders of the two first lines of wall drew up outside the lowermost, the Buccaneers firing at them for an hour under cover of the first intrenchment. But finding they gave no ground, and thinking the fog interfered with the aim, the French rushed forward and fell upon them with the butt ends of their muskets, till they fled headlong down the narrow road. Here they got entangled in their own impediments, and the Buccaneers, commanding the road from the redoubt, killed an enemy at every shot. Weary at last of running and killing, the French returned to the intrenchments and drove off the 500 Spaniards, who had now rallied, and were attacking the garrison. The pursuit ceased only from the fatigue of the conquerors and their weariness of slaughter. The Spaniards neither gave nor took quarter, and were saved in spite of themselves. De Lussan says, either from pride or a natural fierceness of temper, the Spanish soldiers, before an engagement, frequently took an oath to their commander neither to give nor receive quarter. The Buccaneers, struck with compassion at the quantity of blood running into the rivulet, spared the survivors, and returned a second time into the intrenchment with only one man killed and two wounded. The Spaniards lost their general, a brave old Walloon officer, who had given them the plan of their intrenchment. It was only at the solicitation of another commander that the rounds had been set, and the sentinels placed at the top of the mountain. The general had consented, but said there was no danger if the French were only men. It would take them eight days to climb up, and if they were devils, no intrenchment could keep them out. In his pocket were found letters from the Governor of Costa Rica, who had intended to send him 8000 men, but the Walloon asked for only 1500. He advised him to take care of his soldiers, as no glory could be gained by such a victory. The letter concluded thus:--"Take good measures, for those devils have a cunning and subtlety that is not in use amongst us. When you find them advance within the shot of your arquebuses, let not your men fire but by twenties, to the end your firing may not be in vain; and when you find them weakened, raise a shout to frighten them, and fall on with your swords, while Don Rodrigo attacks them in the rear. I hope God will favour our designs, since they are no other than for his glory, and the destruction of these new sort of Turks. Hearten up your men, though they may have enough of that according to your example they shall be rewarded in heaven, and if they get the better, they will have gold and silver enough wherewith these thieves are laden." Having sung a _Te Deum_ of thankfulness to God, Ravenau de Lussan mounted sixty men upon horseback, as he words it, "to give notice to our other people of the success the Almighty was pleased to give us." They found them about to attack the 300 Spaniards, who seeing the night-march the main body had made, and believing them defeated at the intrenchments, had sent an officer to parley with the residue. He told them that the 1500 Spaniards were lying ready to surround their troops, but promised them good terms if they surrendered; saying that, by the intercessions of the almoner, and for the honour of the holy sacrament and glorious Virgin, they had spared all the prisoners they had hitherto taken. The Buccaneers, somewhat intimidated at these threats, took heart when they saw their companions coming, and returned the following fierce answer: "Though you had force enough to destroy two-thirds of our number, we should not fail to fight with the remaining part; yea, though there were but one man of us left, he should fight against you all. When we put ashore and left the South Sea, we all resolved to pass through your country or die in the attempt; and though there were as many Spaniards as there are blades of grass in the savannah, we should not be afraid, but would go on and go where we will in spite of your teeth." The officer at Ravenau's arrival was just being dismissed, and seeing the new allies were booted and mounted on Spanish horses, he shrugged up his shoulders and rode back as fast as he could to his comrades, who were not more than a musket-shot off upon a small eminence commanding the camp, to tell them the news. As soon almost as he could get to them, the Buccaneers advanced with pistols and cutlasses, and without firing fell on them and cut many to pieces before they could mount, but let the rest go, detaining their horses. They then, with the loss of one killed and two maimed, rejoined the main body at the intrenchments. The enemy now lit a fire upon the top of a neighbouring mountain to collect the scattered troops, in order to defend an intrenchment six leagues distant; but the Buccaneers lying in wait cut off their passage, then hamstringing 900 horses, took 900 others to kill and salt when they arrived at the river. On the 15th they passed the intrenchment unfinished and undefended, and on the 16th day came very joyfully to the long desired river. Immediately they entered into the woods that covered the banks, and fell to work in good earnest to cut down trees and build "piperies," or rafts. These were made of four or five trunks of the mahot trees, a light buoyant wood, which they first barked and then bound together with parasite creepers, which were tough and of great length. Two men, generally standing upright, guided each of these frail barks, the decks sunk two or three feet under water. They were built purposely narrow, to be able to thread the rocky passes of the river even then in sight. These rafts were dragged to the river-side and then launched, the boatmen having furnished themselves with long poles to push them off the rocks, against which they were sure the current would drive them. De Lussan, who never exaggerates a danger, cannot find words to express the terrors of this stream. "It springs," he says, "in the mountains of Segovia, and discharges itself into the North Sea at Cape Gracias à Dios, after having run a long way, in a most rapid manner, across a vast number of rocks of a prodigious bigness, and by the most frightful precipices that can be thought of, besides a great many falls of water, to the number of at least a hundred of all sorts, which it is impossible for a man to look on without trembling, and making the head of the most fearless to turn round, when he sees and hears the waters fall from such a height into those tremendous whirlpools." To this dangerous river and its merciless falls, these way-worn men trusted themselves on frail rafts, and sank up to their middles in water. Sometimes they were hurried, in spite of all their resistance, into boiling pools, where they were buried with their rafts in the darkness beneath the foam, at others drifted under rocks and against fallen trees. Some tied themselves to their barks. "As for those great falls," says Lussan, "they had, to our good fortunes, at their entrances and goings out, great basins of still water, which gave us the opportunity to get upon the banks of the river, and draw our piperies ashore to take off those things we had laid on them, which were as wet as we were. These we carried with us, leaping from rock to rock, till we came to the end of the fall, from whence one of us afterwards returned to put our pipery into the water, and let her swim along to him who waited for her below. But if he failed to catch hold (by swimming) of those pieces of wood before they got out of the basin below, the violence of the stream would carry them away to rights, and the men were necessitated to go and pick out trees to make another." The rafts at first went all together for the sake of mutual assistance; but at the end of three days, finding this dangerous, Ravenau de Lussan advised their going in a line apart, so that, if any were carried against the rocks, they might get off before the next pipery arrived, which at first occasioned many disasters. De Lussan, being himself cast away, found much safety in this plan; for, uncording his raft, he straddled upon one piece and his companion upon another, and floated down, till, reaching a place less rapid, they got on land and reconstructed the raft. By his advice, those who went first put up flags at the end of long poles, to give notice on which side to land, not to signal the falls, for their roar could be clearly heard a league off. During all these dangers the men lived on the bananas that they found growing by the river side, some of which the Indians had sown, and others floated down and self-planted during the inundations. The horse-flesh they had brought the water had spoiled, compelling them to throw it away after two days; and although game abounded on the land, they could kill none, for their arms were continually wet and their ammunition all damaged. It was at this crisis the conspirators we have before mentioned chose to carry out their cruel plot. Hiding behind some rocks, they killed and plundered five Englishmen, who were known to be rich. Lussan whose raft came last of all, and followed the English float, found their bodies, and thanked God he had given others his treasure to carry. When the Buccaneers were all met together, lower down the river, Lussan told them of the murder, of which they had not heard, but the murderers were seen no more. On the 20th of February the river grew wider, slower, and deeper, the falls ceased, but the stream was encumbered with trees and bamboos, drifted together by the floods. These snags frequently overturned the rafts, but the water being, though deeper, much slower, none were drowned. Some leagues further, the stream became gentle and free from all impediment, and they determined for the next sixty leagues to the sea to build canoes. Dividing themselves into parties of sixty men, they landed and cut down mapou trees, and, working with wonderful diligence, built four canoes by the first of March. Leaving 140 men still working, 120 embarked, eager for home, ease, and rest. The English, too impatient to make canoes, had long since reached the sea-shore in their piperies. They here met a Jamaica boat lying at anchor, and attempted to persuade the captain to return, and obtain leave for them to land, as they had no commission. The captain refused to go without receiving £6000 in advance, which they could not afford, as many of them had lost all by the upsetting of the piperies. The sailors, therefore, resolved to remain with the friendly Mosquito Indians, who dwelt about the mouth of this river, and to whom they had often brought trinkets from Jamaica. The English, unable to buy the boat, determined to send word to the French, hoping to get to St. Domingo by their aid. Two Mosquito Indians were despatched in a canoe, forty leagues up the river, to bring down forty Frenchmen, as the vessel was small and short of provision, and could not hold more. But, in spite of all this, 120, instead of forty, hurried down to get on board, waiting five days for the ship that had gone to the Isle of Pearls. Great was the delight of the French to pass Cape Gracias à Dios, and enter the North Sea. The Mulattoes that lived on this cape, Lussan says, were descended from the crew of a negro vessel, lost on a shoal. They slept in holes dug in the sand, to avoid the mosquitoes, which stung them till they appeared like lepers. Lussan speaks much of the fiery darts of this mischievous insect. He says, "It is no small pain to be attacked with them, for, besides that they caused us to lose our rest at night, it was then that we were forced to go naked for want of shirts, when the troublesomeness of these animals made us run into despair and such a rage as set us beside ourselves." At last the longed-for vessel arrived, and, regardless of lots that had been drawn, fifty of the more vigilant, including Lussan, crowded in, one on the top of the other, and instantly weighed anchor, engaging the master for forty pieces of eight a head to take them to St. Domingo, afraid of venturing to Jamaica. At Cuba they landed, and surprising some hunters, compelled them to sell them food, uncertain whether France and Spain were at war or peace. On the 4th of April they rode at anchor at Petit Guaves, hoping to hear news from France. De Lussan relates a curious instance here of the effect of habit and instinctive imagination. "There were some of our people," he says, "so infatuated with the long miseries we had suffered, that they thought of nothing else but the Spaniards, insomuch that, when from the deck they saw some horsemen riding along the sea-side, they flew to arms to fire upon them, as imagining they were enemies, though we assured them we were now come among those of our own nation." De Lussan, at once going on shore, demanded of Mons. Dumas, the King's lieutenant, in the Governor Mons. de Cussy's absence, indemnity and protection, by favour of an amnesty granted by the French king to those who, in remote places, had continued to make war on the Spaniards, not hearing of the peace that had been concluded between the two nations. De Lussan relates with much unpretending pathos the feelings of himself and his Ulyssean friends upon once more landing in a friendly country. "When we all were got ashore," he says, "to a people that spoke French, we could not forbear shedding tears for joy that, after we had run so many hazards, dangers, and perils, it had pleased the Almighty Maker of the earth and seas to grant a deliverance, and bring us back to those of our own nation, that at length we may return without any more ado to our own country; whereunto I cannot but further add, that, for my own part, I had so little hopes of ever getting back, that I could not, for the space of fifteen days, take my return for any other than an illusion, and it proceeded so far with me, that I shunned sleep, for fear when I awaked I should find myself again in those countries out of which I was now safely delivered." From the preface to De Lussan's book, we learn that he returned to Dieppe, with letters of introduction from De Cussy, the Governor of Tortuga and St. Domingo, to Mons. de Lubert, Treasurer-General of Marine in France. Of the end of this brave man we know nothing. He had many requisites for a great general. CHAPTER II. THE LAST OF THE BUCCANEERS. Sieur de Montauban--Wonderful escape from an explosion--Life in Africa--Laurence de Graff--His victories--Enters French service--Treachery--Buccaneers join in French expedition and take Carthagena--Buccaneer sharpshooters--Treachery of French--Buccaneers return and retake the city--Captured in return by English and Dutch fleets--1698--Buccaneers wrecked with French--Grammont takes Santiago--Sacks Maracaibo, Gibraltar, and Torilla--Lands at Cumana--Enters French service--Lost in his last cruise. Of all the motley characters of Buccaneer history, Montauban appears one of the most extraordinary. His friends describe him to have been as prudent as he was brave, blunt and sincere, relating his own adventures with a free and generous air that convinced the hearer of their truth, and at last consenting to write his story, not from ostentation, but from the simple desire of giving a French minister of state a narrative of his campaigns. He is interesting to us as the latest known Buccaneer, and in strict parlance he can scarcely be classed as a Buccaneer at all, attacking the English as he did more than the Spanish, and not confining his cruises to the Spanish main. He begins his book with great _naïveté_ thus: "Since I have so often felt the malignant influence of those stars that preside over the seas, and by an adverse fortune lost all that wealth which with so much care and trouble I had amassed together, I should take no manner of pleasure in this place to call to mind the misfortunes that befel me before the conclusion of the last campaign, had not a desire of serving still both the public and particular persons, as well as to let his majesty know the affection and weddedness I have always had for his service, made me take pen in hand to give Mons. de Phelipeaux an account of such observations as I have made; wherein he may also find with what eagerness I have penetrated to the remotest colonies of our enemies, in order to destroy them and ruin their trade. I was not willing to swell up this relation with an account of all the voyages I have made, and all the particular adventures that have befallen me on the coasts of New Spain, Carthagena, Mexico, Florida, and Cape Verd, which last place I had been at twenty years ago, having begun to use the seas at the age of sixteen." He goes on to say that he will not stop to relate how, in 1691, in a ship called the _Machine_, he ravaged the coasts of New Guinea, and, entering the great Serelion, took a fort from the English and split twenty-four pieces of cannon, but will confine himself simply to his last voyage; "Some information," he says, "having been given thereof, by the noise made in France and elsewhere of the burning my ship, and the terrible crack it made in the air." In the year 1694, having ravaged the coast of Caracca, he went towards St. Croix, to watch for some merchant ships and a fleet expected from Barbadoes and Nevis, bound for England. Sailing towards the Bermudas, expecting good booty, he saw them coming towards him without any apprehension of danger. He at once attacked the convoy (_The Wolf_), and took her and two merchant ships laden with sugar, the rest escaping during the fight. Returning with his prizes to France, he captured an English ship of sixteen guns from Spain and bound for England, which surrendered after a short fight. This last vessel he took to Rochelle and sold it, the Admiralty declaring it good prize; the last he took to Bordeaux and sold to the merchants. Here abandoning themselves to pleasure after a long abstinence, many of his men deserted him, and he supplied their place with youths from the town, who soon became as expert as veterans. "I made it," he says, "my continual care and business to teach my men to shoot, and my so frequent exercising of them rendered them in a short time as capable of shooting and handling their arms as the oldest sea freebooters, or the best fowlers by land." Re-victualling his ship, that carried only thirty-four guns, he left Bordeaux in February, 1695, to cruise on the coast of Guinea. From the Azores he passed the Canary Islands, and sailed for fourteen days in sight of Teneriffe, in hopes of meeting some Dutch vessels, that after all escaped him, and at the Cape de Verd Islands he pursued two English interlopers of thirty guns each, who left behind in the roads their anchors and shallops. He then went in search of a Dutch guard-ship, of thirty-four guns, along the neighbouring coast. Decoying the foe by showing Dutch colours, he waited till he got within cannon shot, hoisting the French flag, gave her a signal to strike, and then exchanged broadsides. They fought from early morning till four in the afternoon, without Montauban being able to get the weather-gauge, or approach near enough to use his chief arms--his fusils. Taking advantage of a favourable wind, the Dutchman then anchored under the fort of the Cape of Three-points, where two other Dutch men-of-war lay, one of fourteen and the other of twenty-eight guns. Thinking the three vessels had leagued to fight him, Montauban anchored within a league of the shore, hoping to provoke them out by continued insults, but the guard-ship, already much mauled, would not move. This vessel, he found afterwards, had driven away a French flute. At Cape St. John he took with little difficulty an English ship of twenty guns, carrying 350 negroes, and much wax and elephants' teeth. The English captain had killed some of his blacks in a mutiny, and others had escaped in the shallop, which they stole. At Prince's Isle he took a small Bradenburg caper (a pirate), mounted with eight pieces of cannon, and carrying sixty men. He then put into port to careen, and sent his prize to St. Domingo to be condemned and sold, putting the Sieur de Nave and a crew on board, but the ship was taken by some English men-of-war before Little Goara. To keep his men employed during the careening, Montauban fitted up the caper, and with ninety men cruised for six weeks without success, and, then putting into the Isle of St. Thomas, trucked the prize for provisions, and started for the coasts of Angola, hearing that three English men-of-war and a fire-ship were fitting out against him at Guinea. On his way he chased a Dutch interloper, laden with 150 pounds of gold dust, but she ran ashore on the Isle of St. Omer and fell to pieces. When approaching the coasts of Angola, and not far from the port of Cabinda, he saw an English vessel of fifty-four guns bearing down upon him. To decoy her Montauban hung out Dutch colours, while the English fired guns, as a signal of friendship. The Frenchman, pretending to wait, sailed slow, as if heavy laden or encumbered for want of sails and men. "We kept in this manner," writes the privateersman, "from break of day till ten in the forenoon. He gave me a gun from time to time without ball, to assure me of what he was, but finding at last I did not answer him on my part in the same manner, he gave me one again with ball, which made me presently put up French colours, and answer him with another. Hereupon the English captain, without any more ado, gave me two broadsides, which I received without returning him one again, though he had killed me seven men; for I was in hopes, if I could have got something nearer to him, to put him out of condition ever to get away from me. I endeavoured to come within a fusil shot of him and was desirous to give him an opportunity to show his courage in boarding me, since I could not so well do the same by him, as being to the leeward. At last being come by degrees nearer, and finding him within the reach of my fusils, which for that end I kept concealed upon the deck from his sight, they were discharged upon him, and my men continued to make so great a fire with them, that the enemy on their part began quickly to flag. In the mean time, as their ship's crew consisted of above 300 men and that they saw their cannon could not do their work for them, they resolved to board us, which they did with a great shout and terrible threatenings of giving no quarter, if we did not surrender. Their grappling-irons failing to catch the stern of my ship, made theirs run in such a manner, that their stern ran upon my boltsprit and broke it. Having observed my enemy thus encumbered, my men plied them briskly with their small shot, and made so terrible a fire upon them for an hour and a-half, that being unable to resist any longer, and having lost a great many men, they left the sport and ran down between decks, and I saw them presently after make signals with their hats of crying out for quarter. I caused my men therefore to give over their firing, and commanded the English to embark in their shallops and come on board of me, while I made some of my crew at the same time leap into the enemy's ship and seize her, and so prevent any surprise from them. I already rejoiced within myself for the taking of such a considerable prize, and so much the more in that I hoped that after having taken this vessel, that was the guard-ship of Angola, and the largest the English had in those seas, I should find myself in a condition still to take better prizes, and attack any man-of-war I should meet with. My ship's crew were also as joyful as myself, and did the work they were engaged in with a great deal of pleasure; but the enemy's powder suddenly taking fire, by the means of a match the captain had left burning on purpose, as hoping he might escape with his two shallops, blew both the ships into the air, _and made the most horrible crack that was ever heard_. It is impossible to set forth this horrid spectacle to the life; the spectators themselves were the actors of this bloody scene, _not knowing whether they saw it or not_, and not being able to judge of that which themselves felt. Wherefore leaving the reader to imagine the horror which the blowing up of two ships above 200 fathoms into the air must work in us, where there was formed as it were a mountain of water, fire, wreck of the ships, cordages, cannon, men, and a most horrible clap made, what with the cannon that went off in the air, and the waves of the sea that were tossed up thither, to which we may add the cracking of masts and boards, the rending of the sails and ropes, the cries of men, and the breaking of bones--I say, leaving these things to the imagination of the reader, I shall only take notice of what befell myself, and by what good fortune it was that I escaped. "When the fire first began I was upon the fore-deck of my own ship, where I gave the necessary orders. Now I was carried up on part of the said deck so high, that I fancy it was the height alone prevented my being involved in the wreck of the ships, where I must infallibly have perished, and been cut into a thousand pieces. I fell back into the sea (_you may be sure giddy-headed enough_), and continued a long time under water, without being able to get up to the surface of it. At last falling into a debate with the water, as a person who was afraid of being drowned, I got upon the face of it, and laid hold of a broken piece of a mast that I found near. I called to some of my men whom I saw swimming round about me, and exhorted them to take courage, hoping we might yet save our lives, if we could light upon any one of our shallops. But what afflicted me more than my very misfortune, was to see two half bodies, who had still somewhat of life remaining in them, from time to time mount up to the face of the water, and leave the place where they remained all dyed with blood. It was also much the same thing to see round about a vast number of members and scattered parts of men's bodies, and most of them spitted upon splinters of wood. At last one of my men, having met with a whole shallop among all the wreck, that swam up and down upon the water, came to tell me that we must endeavour to stop some holes therein, and to take out the canoe that lay on board her. "We got, to the number of fifteen or sixteen of us who had escaped, near unto this shallop, every man upon his piece of wood, and took the pains to loosen our canoe, which at length we effected. We went all on board her, and after we had got in saved our chief gunner, who in the fight had had his leg broke. We took up three or four oars, or pieces of board, which served us to that purpose, and when we had done that we sought out for somewhat to make a sail and a little mast, and, having fitted up all things as well as we possibly could, committed ourselves to the Divine Providence, who alone could give us life and deliverance. As soon as I had done working I found myself all over besmeared with blood, that ran from a wound I had received on my head at the time of my fall. We made some lint out of my handkerchief, and a fillet to bind it withal out of my shirt, after I had first washed the wound with urine. The same thing was done to the rest that had been wounded, and our shallop in the meanwhile sailed along without our knowing where we were going, and, what was still more sad, without victuals, and we had already spent three days without either eating or drinking. One of our men, being greatly afflicted with hunger and thirst at the same time, drank so much salt water that he died of it." Most of the men vomited continually, Montauban's body swelled, and he was finally cured of his dropsy by a quartan-ague. All his hair and one side of his face and body were burnt with powder, and he bled as "bombardiers do at sea," at the nose, ears, and mouth. But this was no time, he says manfully, for a consultation of physicians, while they were dying of hunger, so leaving the English, they forced their way over the bar of Carthersna, an adverse wind preventing their landing at the port of Cabinda. Here they found some oysters sticking to the trees that grew round a pond, and opening them with their clasp knives, which they lent, Montauban says, "charitably and readily to each other," they made a lusty meal. Having spent two days there, they divided into three small companies, and went up the country, but could find no houses, and see nothing but herds of buffaloes that fled from them. On reaching Cape Corsa they found negroes assembled to furnish ships with wood and water in exchange for brandy, knives, and hatchets. Montauban, who had often traded in these parts, knew several of the natives, and tried to make them believe he was the man he represented; but disfigured as he was by his late misfortune, they considered him an impostor. In their own language he told them he was dying of famine, but could get nothing but a few bananas to eat. He then desired them to carry him and his men to Prince Thomas, the son to the king of that country, upon whom he had conferred many favours. But the Prince refused to recognize him, till he showed him the scar of a wound in his thigh which he had once seen when they bathed together. On seeing this the Prince rose and embraced him; commanded victuals to be given to his men; expressed his sorrow for their misfortunes; and quartered them among his negro lords. Montauban he kept at his own expense, and made him eat at his own table. In a few days he took him some leagues up the country in a canoe, to see the king his father, who ruled over a village of 300 huts among the marshes. The high priest was just dead, and during the funeral ceremonies, lasting for seven days, Montauban was regaled with elephant's flesh. The king he found surrounded by women, and guarded by negroes armed with lances and fusils. Flags, trumpets, and drums preceded this monarch of a realm of hunters, who was himself clothed in a robe of white and blue striped cotton. The black prince shook the French captain by the hand, being the first man whose hand he had ever thus honoured. He asked many questions about his brother of France, and when he heard that he sometimes waged war with England and Holland singlehanded, and sometimes with Germany and Spain, the king expressed himself pleased, and, calling for palm wine, said he would drink the French king's health, and as he drank the drums and trumpets sounded, just as they do in Hamlet, and the negro guard discharged their pieces. Prince Thomas then asked the name of the French king who was so powerful, and being told it was Louis le Grand, declared he would give that name to his son, who was about to be baptised, and that Montauban should be godfather. He also expressed his hope that at some future voyage Montauban would carry the child to France, and present him to the brother monarch, and have him brought up in that country. "Assure him," said the same prince, "that I am his friend, and that if he has occasion for my service, I will go myself into France, with all the lances and fusils belonging to the king my father." The king said, if need were he would go himself in person. At this generous promise the guard discharged their muskets frantically, and the men and women shouted their admiration. The drums and trumpets went to it again, and the spearmen ran from one side to the other, uttering horrible cries, sounding like pain, but expressive of joy. Then the glasses went round faster, and the ceremony concluded by the negro king presenting Montauban with two cakes of wax. The white men now rose in public estimation. Whenever they stirred out, they were followed by crowds of negroes bringing presents of fruits and buffalo flesh, never having seen a white face before, and generally supposing the devil to be of that colour. Sable philosophers begged to be allowed to scrape their skin with knives, till the king issued an edict forbidding any one, under pain, scraping or rubbing the strangers. The baptism passed off with great _éclat_. There being no priest in the town who knew how to baptize, or remembered the words of the service, a priest was procured from a Portuguese ship lying at the Cape. The freebooter speaks with much unction of his sponsorship. "I did it with so much the more pleasure," quoth he, "in that I was helping to make a Christian and sanctify a soul." A few days after this ceremony, which afforded so much satisfaction to Montauban's tender conscience, he determined to embark on board an English ship lying at the Cape; but the black king would not have him trust himself into the hands of his enemies, and soon after he set sail in a Portuguese vessel that arrived to barter iron, arms, and brandy, for ivory, wax, and negroes. Two of his men, who had strayed up the country, he left behind. The Portuguese captain turned out to be an old friend, and took him at once to St. Thomas's, and here he stayed a month, the governor of the island showing him a thousand civilities. He then embarked on board an English vessel, with whose captain he contracted an intimate friendship, in spite of the governor's warnings. He gave up his own cabin to Montauban, to use our adventurer's own words, "with all the pleasure and diversion he could think of, for the solacing of my spirits under the afflictions I had from time to time endured." A tedious sail of three months brought them to Barbadoes. During this time, his provisions running short, the English captain began to regret having taken up his French passengers, and reduced their daily allowance by three-fourths. On arriving at the port, Colonel Russel blamed the captain for having brought such visitors, and forbade him under pain of death to land; but some Jewish physicians declaring that he must die if he did not, the governor consented, keeping a strict watch upon the sick man, and telling him to understand that he and his fellows were prisoners of war. Montauban replied that he had only embarked on the faith of the English captain, on whose friendship he relied. He promised, if liberty were granted, them, he would be ever mindful of the favour, and would either pay the colonel a ransom, or restore at a future time any prisoners belonging to the island. "No," replied the governor, "I will have neither your ransom nor your prisoners, and you are too brave a man for me to have no compassion upon your many misfortunes. I desire, on the contrary, that you will accept of these forty pistoles, which I present you with to supply your present occasions." A vessel soon after arrived from Martinique, and Montauban went on board with two of his men, all that could be collected. The English governor, when he thanked him at parting, prayed him to be kind to any English that fell into his hands, and lamented the war regulations that compelled him to severity. On arriving at Port Royal, at Martinique, Mons. de Blenac, the governor, who was then dying, made him stay at his house, and relate every day his adventure with the English vessel. In the same breath, Montauban praises De Blenac's wisdom, justice, integrity, and knowledge of all the coasts and heights of land in America. In a few days the freebooter embarked in the _Virgin_ for Bordeaux, and we lose sight of his stalwart figure and scarred face among the bustling eager crowds that fill the streets of that busy seaport. We have a shrewd suspicion that Sieur de Montauban did not die in a bed, but with his face to the foe and his back on a bloody plank. There is something delightfully sincere and _naïve_ in the sort of out-loud thinking with which he concludes his simple "yarn." "I do not know whether I have bid the sea adieu, so much has my last misfortune terrified me, or whether I shall go out again to be revenged on the English, who have done me so much mischief, or go and traverse the seas with a design to get me a little wealth, or rest quiet and eat up what my relations have left me. _There is a strange inclination in men to undertake voyages_, as there is to gaming; whatever misfortunes befall them, they do not believe they will be always unhappy, and therefore will play on. Thus it is as to the sea, whatever accidents befall us, we are in hopes to find a favourable opportunity to make us amends for all our losses. I believe, whoever reads this account will find it a hard task to give me counsel thereupon, or to take the same himself." LAURENCE DE GRAFF, our next hero, was a Dutchman by birth, and served first in the service of Spain as a sailor and a gunner. He soon became remarkable as a good shot, and renowned for his address and bravery, his bearing being equally attractive and commanding. Going to America, he carried these talents to the best market, and, being taken prisoner by the corsairs, became a Buccaneer, and soon rose to independent command. His name grew so terrible to the Spaniards, that the monks used to pray God in their prayers to deliver them from "Lorençillo," and the whole brotherhood used his name as a war-cry to strike terror. Vessels struck their flag when they heard that shout, and the horsemen fled before it through the savannah. Knowing that the Spaniards would not forgive him the injuries he had inflicted on them, De Graff never fought without strewing powder on the deck, or having a gunner with a lighted match ready to blow up the powder magazine at the first signal. On one occasion the people of Carthagena, knowing that he was sailing near the port in a single small vessel, despatched two frigates to bring him bound to land. Lorençillo, believing himself lost, had already given orders to blow up the vessel, when, making a last desperate effort, he captured both of his enemies. These men were never so formidable as when surrounded by an overwhelming force. On another occasion the admiral and vice-admiral of the galleon fleet had orders to take him at all risks, which they should easily have done, as each of their vessels carried sixty guns. Finding it impossible to escape, Laurence animated his crew, and told them that in victory lay their only hope of life. The gunner was placed as usual ready beside the magazine, and then running boldly between the two vessels, De Graff poured in a volley of musketry and killed forty-eight Spaniards. The action still continued, when a French shot carried away the mainmast of the largest galleon, and her consort, afraid to board, left Lorençillo the conqueror. The report of this victory produced a great sensation both at Paris and Madrid. The French sent the conqueror letters of naturalization and a pardon for the death of Van Horn, and the court of Spain issued orders to cut off the head of their recreant admiral. At another time Laurence was cruising near Carthagena, in company with the French captains, Michel Jonqué, Le Sage, and Breac. The Spaniards, thinking to catch him alone, sent out two thirty-six gun ships and a small craft of six guns, which overtook him in a bay to leeward of the city. Surprised to see him well guarded, they endeavoured to escape, but Laurence attacked them, and after an eight hours' action, having killed 400 Spaniards, took the admiral's ship, Jonqué's capturing its companion. Laurence's prize, however, was soon after driven ashore, and the prisoners escaped. Captain Laurence is at this time described as a tall, fair man, with light hair and moustachios. He was fond of music, and kept a band of violins and trumpets on board his ship. On one occasion landing in Jamaica, the French levelled the three intrenchments, spiked the cannon, burnt a town, and retreated to their ships--carrying off 3000 negroes, and much indigo and merchandise. The island was saved by the fact of the inhabitants of one corner having fortified all their houses, and turned each into an inaccessible and unscalable fort. In the attack of one of these alone Captain Le Sage and fifty men were killed. The English say that there were 7000 fugitive negroes in the mountains, anxious to join the French, and to escape to St. Domingo, but the French, taking them for enemies, fled at their approach. Afraid of retaliation, Hispaniola now prepared for defence. Le Sieur de Graff commanded at Cape François, and was to lay ambuscades and throw up intrenchments, and dispute every inch with the Spaniards or the English. If the enemy was too strong he was ordered to spike his cannon, blow up his powder, and fall back to Port de Paix. In 1695 the Spaniards and English landed with 6000 men. Contrary to all expectation, De Graff, perhaps too old for service, wasted eight days in reconnoitring, and abandoned post after post. His men lost all courage when they saw his irresolution. His lieutenant, Le Chevalier de Leon, also deserted his guns without a blow, De Graff merely remarking that it was only twenty-eight cannon lost. A succession of disasters followed, and nothing but climate and the quarrels of the allies saved the desolated colony. In 1686, De Graff was made major in the French army, and henceforward fought with more or less fidelity for the country that had ennobled him. Not long after this event, the termination of all his glory, being a widower, he married Anne Dieu le Veut, a French lady of indomitable spirit. She was one of those French women brought over by the governor, M. D'Ogeron, to marry to the hunters of Hispaniola. "They grew," says Charlevoix, "perfect Atalantas, and joined in the chase, using the musket and sabre with the best." From such Amazonian mould came some of the Buccaneer chiefs. One day before her marriage, this heroine having received some insult from her husband, drew out a pistol and forced him to unsay what he had uttered. Full of admiration at her courage, and thinking such an Amazon worthy of a hero's bed, he married her. Both she and her children were taken prisoners by the English, and not released for a long time after the peace. De Graff's first wife was Petroline de Guzman, a Spanish lady. At the time De Graff's brevet arrived, he was on a reef near Carthagena, having been wrecked while pursuing a bark in a vessel of forty-eight guns and 400 men. With his canoe the wrecked men took the ship, and landing in Darien, lost twenty-five adventurers in an Indian ambuscade. His two prizes he sent to St. Domingo, but his crew obliged him to continue privateering till the letters from De Cussy recalled him. One of the chief reasons why this honour had been bestowed on him was, that, by his great credit with the adventurers, he might draw them to settle on land. About this time, the Spaniards surprised Petit Guaves, and war commenced. Only the year before, the same nation had seized Breac, the Flibustier captain, and hung him, with nine or ten of his men. Soon after this, a Spanish officer, whom De Graff, now commandant at the Isle à la Vache, had delivered from some English corsairs, informed him that a Spanish galleon full of treasure was lying wrecked at the Seranillas Islands, but this prize he was obliged to relinquish to the English. De Graff now became remarkable for his firmness and justice. He encouraged colonization, settled differences between English and French Buccaneers, and prohibited all privateering. His name was still so terrible, that on one occasion 2000 Spaniards attacking Hispaniola retreated when they heard that the old chief commanded the militia of the island. The Flibustiers were found bad colonists: the French could manage to keep them at a fortified post when a Spanish invasion was expected, but the instant the enemy retreated, the sea grew dark with Buccaneer vessels, eager for prizes. Indocile and desperate, they seduced all the youth of Hispaniola from their plantations. At one time the French governor seems to have resolved on their total destruction, but their usefulness as light troops saved them. The descents on Jamaica in search of slaves by the French Buccaneers grew soon so numerous, that the English island became known as "little Guinea." In 1692, a French adventurer named Daviot, with 290 men, landed and pillaged the north of Jamaica. His vessel being driven out to sea by a storm, his men were compelled to remain fifteen days exposed to incessant attacks from their enemies. While waiting for the vessel's return, the dreadful earthquake happened that swallowed 11,000 souls, and destroyed Port Royal. The Flibustiers, alarmed at the rocking of the earth, embarked 115 sailors and forty prisoners in canoes, but the sea was as convulsed as the land, and they lost all but sixty men, and were driven again on shore. Attacked when he again put out to sea by two English vessels, Daviot beat them off with a loss of seventy-six men, only two of his own being killed. Boarded by the English a second time, his vessel blew up, and he surrendered with twenty-one of his crew. Soon after this, three French vessels, manned with Buccaneers, took an English guarda costa of forty guns, killing eighteen men. In 1694, De Graff commanded in a Buccaneer invasion of Jamaica, sailing to that island with fourteen vessels and 550 men. He forced the English intrenchments in spite of 1400 musketeers and twelve guns, slew 360 of the defenders, and captured nine ships, losing himself only twenty-two men. He then drove off 260 troopers from Spanish Town, after two hours' combat. The next day De Graff despatched troops to carry off cattle. In 1696, a process was instituted against De Graff, whom M. Du Casse suspected of intrigues with Spain. The evidence, M. Charlevoix thinks, showed only his extreme fear of falling into the hands of the enemy. It is certain that the Spanish had offered to make him a vice-admiral, but he would not trust their sincerity. The English despised him for this supposed treachery, and when he proposed to the governor of Jamaica to retreat to that island, if he could give him employment, the governor replied, that he had already betrayed three nations, and would not stick at betraying a fourth. The Spaniards regarded him with fear till his death, and never forgave him the injury he had done them. "During the next war between France and Spain," says Charlevoix, "the Marquis of Cöelogon arriving at Havannah with a French squadron that he commanded in the Mexican Gulf, having De Graff on board, all the town ran to the shore at the news, to see the famous Lorençillo that had so long been the terror of the West Indies, but the Marquis would not let him land for fear of danger." Deprived of his command, De Graff was appointed captain of a light frigate. This situation suited him better than land service, for which he showed no genius, and he was frequently employed on board the French squadrons, no man knowing better the navigation of the North Pacific. Of his death we know nothing, but it is supposed he lived to a good age. One of the most important enterprises ever attempted by the French Buccaneers, in conjunction with the French government, was the capture of Carthagena in 1697. The fleet of M. de Poincy consisted of eighteen vessels, besides ten Flibustier craft, carrying 700 adventurers, in addition to his own 4658 men and two companies of negroes. The Buccaneer captains were Montjoy, Godefroy, Blanc, Galet, Pierre, Pays, Sales, Macary, and Colong. Their vessels were named _Le Pontchartrain_, _La Ville de Glamma_, _La Serpente_, _La Gracieuse_, _La Pembrock_, _Le Cerf Volant_, _La Mutine_, _Le Brigantin_, _Le Jersé_, and _L'Anglais_. The whole force mustered 6500 men. The adventurers at first refused to embark till a fit share of the booty was promised to them, being accustomed to be deprived of their rights by the French officers. Enraged at not being treated as equals, and finding one of their men imprisoned at Petit Guaves, they invested the fort, and were only appeased by ready concessions. The first scheme of the expedition was to seek the galleons; but this was abandoned, though it appeared afterwards that at that very time they were lying at Porto Bello richer than they had been for fifty years, and laden with 50,000,000 crowns. The second plan was to attack Vera Cruz, and the last to sail to Carthagena. That most graphic and vigorous of writers, Michael Scott, describes Carthagena as situated on a group of sandy islands, surrounded by shallow water. A little behind the town, on a gentle acclivity, is the citadel of Fort St. Felipe, and on the ship-like hill beyond it the convent of the Popa, projecting like a poop-lantern in the high stern of a ship. Arrived at that city, the French galliot bombarded the whole night; and as this was the first bomb ship ever seen in the West Indies, the splintering of shells produced a great terror in the citizens. Two days after the fleet anchored before Bocca Chica. This fort contained thirty-three guns; had four bastions, and was defended by a dry fosse cut in the rocks. The ramparts were bomb proof and the walls shot proof. Under the fire of the _St. Louis_, the galliot, and two bomb vessels, the troops landed and advanced without opposition within a quarter of a league of the fort. By the advice of the Buccaneers, accustomed to such marches, 3000 men crossed through a wood by a path so difficult that only one man could pass at a time, and, unobserved, took possession of the road leading from Carthagena to the fort, fortifying themselves on both sides, and cutting off the communication between the fort and the city, taking some negroes prisoners, and losing a few men from the shots of the enemy. The next morning, at daybreak, the adventurers, finding some boats on the beach, pursued and captured a Spanish piragua containing several monks of high rank. One of the priests in vain was sent with a flag of truce and a drummer and trumpeter to summon the governor to surrender. The negroes clearing the road, a battery of guns and mortars opened upon the fort, and the Buccaneer sharp-shooters shot down the enemy's gunners, driving back some half galleys that attempted to bring reinforcements. The Buccaneers, pursuing the boats, found shelter under the covered way, and killed every man who showed himself on the batteries of the fort. The governor, who saw the adventurers rushing, as he thought, madly to destruction, began to lament that he had employed such people. Warned that if left alone "the brothers" would give a good account of the place, he scornfully laughed and ordered up reinforcements. Thinking the Flibustiers had only run under the covered way for shelter, he pursued a few who really did turn tail with his cane, and attempted in vain to drive them to the assault. By this time the freebooters had won the drawbridge, and, displaying their colours on the edge of the ditch, demanded means for the escalade. Thirty ladders were placed, and the assault had already commenced, when the Spaniards hung out the white flag, and, shouting "_Viva el rey!_" flung their arms and hats into the ditch. The gate being opened, 100 of the garrison were confined in the chapel; 200 others were found wounded. The governor, handing the keys of the fortress to M. de Poincy, said: "I deliver into your hands the keys of all the Spanish Indies." About forty adventurers were killed, and as many wounded, in this attack. The next day the fleet entered the harbour, and the Spaniards burned all their vessels to prevent capture. The governor still refusing to surrender, saying he wanted neither men, arms, nor courage, the adventurers embarked to attack the convent of Nuestra Senhora de la Popa, and to occupy the heights. M. du Casse being wounded in the thigh, the Flibustiers refused to march under the command of M. Galifet, to whom they had a dislike; and on his striking one of them, the man took him by the cravat. The mutineer was instantly tied to a tree and sentenced to be shot, but pardoned at M. Galifet's intercession. M. de Poincy, going on board Captain Pierre's ship, seized him and ordered him to execution, and the revolt then ceased, De Poincy threatening to decimate them on the next outbreak. The convent stood on a mountain shaped like the poop of a ship, about a gunshot from Carthagena. It had been abandoned by the monks, who had stripped it of every valuable. The army then marched by sunset to the fort Santa Cruz, suffering much from thirst. The fort mounted sixty guns, was surrounded by a wet ditch, and on the land side accessible only through a morass, but it surrendered without firing a shot. The adventurers then pushed on to within a gunshot of Fort St. Lazarus, which commanded the suburbs on the other side of the city. The French defiled round the fort, while some of their grenadiers carried on a pretended conference with the fort. The next day roads were cut through a hill, and the army were placed within pistol shot of the walls, concealed by an eminence that covered them from the enemy's fire. The Spaniards, losing their commander, abandoned the place in disorder, and their fort, St. Lazarus, being within musket shot of Gezemanie (the suburbs), they opened a fire of ten guns upon the captured batteries, the Buccaneer musketry clearing the streets. Thirty men were killed in trying to turn a chapel into a redoubt, and the camp removed behind St. Lazarus, De Poincy having been wounded in the breast. The three next days several breaching batteries were completed, and the galliot and mortars bombarded the city all night. In three days more, the breach was pronounced practicable, and the storming commenced. M. du Casse, although wounded, led the grenadiers, and M. Macharais the adventurers, who set the army an example of daring. Planks were laid over the broken drawbridge, and the troops passed over, under a tremendous fire from the bastion of St. Catherine, one man only being able to cross at a time. The breach and batteries were lined with Spanish lancers, who flung their spears, nine feet long, a distance of twelve or fifteen yards. The French had 250 men killed and wounded, and many officers fell. Vice-admiral the Count de Cöetlogon was mortally hurt; the commander-in-chief's nephew, le Chevalier de Poincy, a young midshipman, had his knee broken, and many were wounded in pursuing the Spaniards to the city. The French gave no quarter, putting to the sword 200 Spaniards who had thrown themselves into a church. The governor, who had ordered his servants to carry him in his easy chair to the breach to animate his men, fled into Carthagena. The army now advanced to the bridge which led from Gezemanie to the city, and repulsed two sorties of the enemy. The French threw up intrenchments and erected batteries to breach the walls. Two days were spent in these preparations and in dressing the wounded. There were still great difficulties to encounter. Armies of Indians were approaching. The Spanish garrison had six months' provision and eighty guns mounted on their ramparts. The next day, Carthagena, terrified at the fate of Gezemanie, surrendered. The conditions were, that the churches should not be plundered, that those who chose might leave the city unmolested, and that the inhabitants should surrender half their money on pain of losing all. The governor and troops were to depart with the honours of war. The merchants were to surrender their account books to the French commander. The adventurers instantly occupied the bastions and gate, and the other troops seized the ramparts. The governor, having marched out with 700 men, M. de Poincy proceeded to the cathedral to hear the _Te Deum_, and then repaired to his lodgings at the house where the royal treasure was deposited. At first the soldiers and sailors were forbidden to enter any house on pain of death, and the admiral's carpenter being caught plundering, and confessing his guilt, had his head cut off on the spot. But a change soon took place. The governor, assembling the heads of religious houses, informed them that the treaty did not spare any convent that had money. Many days were spent in receiving and weighing the crowns. De Poincy declared, that before his arrival the monks had fled with 120 mules laden with gold, and he had obtained barely nine million pieces. Other accounts say he obtained forty million livres, _i.e._, twenty millions without including merchandise. Every officer had 100,000 crowns, besides his general share of the spoil, before he allowed his soldiers to enter a house. Charlevoix confesses, that the honour the French won by their bravery they lost by their cruelty. The capitulation was broken, churches were profaned, church plate stolen, images broken, virgins violated on the very altars, the monks tortured, and the sick in the hospitals left to starve, or resort to the horrors of cannibalism. Notwithstanding the inhabitants brought in their money, some to the amount of 400,000 dollars, a general search was made throughout the town, and much gold found. A few of the inhabitants hired guards of adventurers, but, in general, these men also turned plunderers, the officers only attempting to keep up appearances. Anxious to get the adventurers out of the way while he collected the spoil, De Poincy spread a report that 10,000 Indians were approaching, and sent the Flibustiers to drive them back. After plundering the country for four leagues, they returned with fifty prisoners, a drove of cattle, and 4000 crowns. During the siege, they had been employed in skirmishing, cutting off supplies, and foraging, and were accustomed to laugh at the sailors, who dragged the guns and called them "white negroes." Disease breaking out, and carrying off 800 men in six weeks, De Poincy embarked his plunder, and prepared to sail. Eighty-six guns he carried off, and destroyed St. Lazarus and Bocca Chica. The Buccaneers, calling out loudly for their share, received only 40,000 crowns. The men instantly shouted--"Brothers, we do wrong to take anything of this dog, our share is left at Carthagena." This proposal was received with a ferocious gaiety, and they all swore never to return to St. Domingo. They derided M. du Casse's promises to get them justice from the French king, and fired at those vessels that would not follow them. The people of Carthagena shuddered to see them return. Shutting up all the men in the cathedral, they promised to depart on receiving five millions as a ransom. In one day a million crowns were brought, but, this being still inadequate, they broke open the very tombs, and goaded the citizens to the torture, firing off guns, and pretending to put men to death in the neighbouring rooms. Two men, guilty of cruelty, their leaders hanged. Each man received about 1,000 crowns; and having spent four days in collecting and dividing the gold and silver, they appointed the Isle à la Vache as a rendezvous to divide the slaves and merchandise. The retribution was at hand. They had not sailed thirty leagues when they fell in with the combined English and Dutch fleets. _Le Christ_, with 250 men, and more than a million crowns, was taken by the Dutch, _Le Cerf Volant_ by the English, a third was driven on shore and burnt near St. Domingo, a fourth, running on land near Carthagena, was taken, and her crew employed in rebuilding the fortifications they had destroyed. Of De Poincy's plunder, 120,000 livres were carried off by an English foray on Petit Guaves. Admiral Neville, who failed to overtake the French deep-laden and weakly manned fleet, died of a broken heart at Virginia. Du Casse was rewarded with the cross of St. Louis for his services, and orders arrived from France to distribute 1,400,000 of De Poincy's spoil among the freebooters, very little of which, however, reached them. A curse, says Charlevoix, rested on the whole enterprise. In 1698, a French fleet, under the command of Count d'Estrees, on its way to attack the Dutch island of Curaçoa, was lost on the Aves Islands, a small cluster of rocks surrounded by breakers. Attracted by the distress-guns fired by the first ship that ran aground, its companions, believing that it had been attacked by the enemy, hurried pell-mell to its assistance, and, blinded by the fog, ran one by one on destruction. Eighteen of them were lost. Of this disaster, Dampier, who visited the island about a year afterwards, gives a very interesting account. The Buccaneer part of the crew (for the Buccaneers took an active part in these wars), quite accustomed to such chances, scrambled to shore, and proceeded to save all they could from the wreck; but a few of them, breaking into the stores of a stranded vessel, floated with her out to sea, drinking and cursing on the poop, and holding up their flasks, shouting and laughing to the drowning men around them. Every soul of them perished. Several Flibustier vessels were lost at the same time, about 800 Buccaneers having joined the expedition at Tortuga. About 300 of these perished with the wrecks. Dampier describes the islands as strewn with shreds of sail, broken spars, masts, and rigging. For some years, in consequence, the Aves became the resort of Buccaneer captains, who careened and refitted here, employing their crews in diving for plate, and in attempts to recover guns and anchors. To console themselves for this failure, M. de Poincy led 800 Buccaneers to attack Santiago, first touching at Tortuga for reinforcements. They landed unseen, taking advantage of a bright moonlight night. The vanguard wound their way round the base of a mountain that barred their approach to the town, and, instead of advancing, worked round till they met their rearguard, whom they mistook for the enemy, and furiously attacked. They discovered their mistake at last by their mutual cries of "Tue, tue." But it was now late; all hopes of surprise were over; the Spaniards, alarmed, put themselves on their defence, and at daybreak drove back the freebooters to their ships with an irresistible force of 4000 men. Another party, more successful, plundered Port au Prince, St. Thomas's, and Truxillo on the mainland. Grammont, during this time, had been left behind on the Aves Islands, to collect all that was valuable from the wreck, and to careen the surviving vessels. Having completed this, and finding himself short of provisions, and the season being favourable for an excursion to the Gulf of Venezuela, Grammont decided upon a visit to Maracaibo. Arriving at the fort of the bar, mounted with twelve guns and garrisoned by seventy men, he commenced an attack. The French had opened a trench, had already pushed it within cannon shot, and were preparing the ladders to scale, when the governor surrendered on condition of obtaining the honours of war. Passing on to the town, Grammont found it abandoned. Gibraltar also made little resistance. From the lake he carried off three vessels, and also took a prize of value, cannonading it with his guns, and at the same time boarding it with a swarm of canoes. Being now master of the whole lake, he visited all the places where his prisoners told him he was likely to find gold hidden, defeating the Spaniards wherever he met them. Then, collecting all his scattered plunderers, Grammont prepared to attack Torilla, making a detour of forty-five leagues in order to take it by surprise. Arriving near the town, the Buccaneers came to the banks of a rapid river, with only one ford, which they had the good fortune to find, crossing over under shelter of a hot fire that the rearguard kept up upon the Spaniards, who lay intrenched upon the opposite bank. The moment they had crossed, their enemies fled, and Torilla was their own. The prize, however, proved not worth the winning, for the town was abandoned, and the treasure hid. The Buccaneer rule, indeed, was that no place was worth sacking which was taken without a blow, as the Spaniards always fought best when they had most to fight for. The Buccaneers departed with little booty; their 700 men having taken three towns, and conquered a province, with the loss of only seventy men, and these chiefly by illness. In 1680 Grammont made another expedition to the coast of Cumana. Having collected twenty-five piraguas, he ascertained from some prisoners that there were three armed vessels anchored under the forts of Gonaire, and these he determined to cut out. He embarked all his 180 men in a single bark, and left orders for the others to sail up to Gonaire at a given signal. He landed with a few men at night, and surprised four watchmen, who, however, had still time left to fire, and alarm the town, before they could be overpowered. Gonaire leaped instantly from its sleep. The bells rang backward; the guns fired; the musketeers hurried to the market-place; doors were barred; and the women and children fled in tears to the altars. Grammont, doubling his speed, arrived at the east gate, his drums beating, trumpets sounding, and colours flying. Although it was defended by twelve guns, he took it with the hot fierceness of a Cæsar, pushed on at once to a fort about a hundred yards distant, and commenced a vigorous attack. At the head of his crew he entered the embrasures, killing twenty-six out of its thirty-eight defenders. Planting his colours on the wall, the men shouted "_Vive le Roi!_" with such unanimity and fierceness that at the very sound the whole garrison of the neighbouring fort at once surrendered, and forty-two men instantly laid down their arms. These successes were obtained with only forty-seven men--a mere handful being able to keep up in the rapid and headlong charge. Grammont, rallying his men, then placed garrisons in the forts, razed the embrasures, spiked the cannon, and then proceeded to intrench himself in a strong position. The next day he entered the town, making several vigorous sorties on the enemy, who now began to gather in round him on all sides. Being informed that 2000 men were advancing to meet him from Caragua, he gave orders for embarkation, the Buccaneers seldom fighting when no booty was to be obtained. Remaining last upon the shore to cover the retreat of his men, withstanding for nearly twenty-four hours the onslaught of 300 Spaniards, he was at last dangerously wounded in the throat, and one of his officers had his shoulder broken. Grammont took with him the Governor of Gonaire, and 150 other prisoners, the usual resource of the Buccaneers when a town either furnished no booty, or gave them no time to collect it. This daring enterprise was achieved with the loss of only eight men. On his way home to be cured of a wound which his vexation and impatience had rendered dangerous, he was wrecked near Petit Guaves, and his own vessel and his prize both lost. About the next adventure of this chivalrous corsair some doubts are thrown, although it is related boastingly by Charlevoix, who says: "He then took an English vessel of thirty guns, which had defied the Governor of Tortuga, and beaten off a Buccaneer bark. This ship, armed with fifty guns, and navigated by a crew of 300 men, Grammont is reported to have boarded, killing every Englishman on board but the captain, whom he reserved to carry in triumph to shore." Grammont was born in Paris of a good family. His mother being left a widow, her daughter was courted by an officer who treated Grammont, then a student, as a rude boy. They fought, and the lover received three mortal stabs. Obtaining the dying man's pardon, the young duellist entered the marines, eventually commanded a privateer frigate, and took, near Martinique, a Dutch flute, containing 400,000 livres. Having spent all this in gaiety at St. Domingo, the young captain turned Buccaneer. Charlevoix notices his manners and address, which were as fascinating as those of De Graff. The writer describes "Sa bonne grâce, ses manières honnêtes, et je ne sçais quoi d'aimable qui gagnoit les coeurs." We have described already his surprise of Maracaibo, and his expedition to Vera Cruz. His expedition to Campeachy was against the wish of the French Governor of St. Domingo. On their way home he quarrelled and separated from De Graff. "With all the talent that can raise man to command, he had," says Charlevoix, "all the vices of a corsair. He drank hard, and abandoned himself to debauchery, with a total disregard of religion." In 1686 Grammont, at the recommendation of M. de Cussy, Governor of St. Domingo, was made Lieutenant de Roi, Cussy intending to make him Protector of the south coast. But Grammont, elated at his new title, and anxious to show that he deserved it, armed a ship, manned by 180 Buccaneers, to make a last cruise against the Spaniards, and was heard of no more. CHAPTER III. FALL OF THE FLOATING EMPIRE. Peace of Ryswick--Attempts to settle--Buccaneers turn pirates--Last expedition to the Darien mines, 1702. The English were the first to attempt to put down Buccaneering, but the last to succeed in doing it. When the freebooters had served their purpose, the English government would have thrown them by as a soldier would his broken sword. In 1655, after Morgan returned from Panama, Lord John Vaughan, the new governor of Jamaica, had strict orders to enforce the treaty concluded with Spain in the previous year, but to proclaim pardon, indemnity, and grants of land to all Buccaneers who would turn planters. By royal proclamation, all cruising against Spain was forbidden under severe penalties. To avoid this irksome imprisonment to a plot of sugar canes, many of the English freebooters joined their brethren at Tortuga, or turned cow-killers and logwood cutters in the Bay of Campeachy. In the next year the war broke out between England and Holland, and many fitted out privateers. The unwise restrictions of France, and home interference with colonial administration, once more fostered "the people of the coast." Annoying prohibitions and vexatious monopolies drove the planters to sea. In 1690 a royal proclamation granted pardon to all English Buccaneers who should surrender themselves. The French Flibustiers continued to flourish during the war which followed the accession of William III. to the throne of England. In 1698 the knell of the brotherhood was finally rung by the joy bells that announced the peace of Ryswick. The English and Dutch made great complaints to the Governor of St. Domingo of the French Flibustiers, and demanded compensation, which was granted. A colony was established at the Isle à la Vache in hopes of carrying on a trade with New Spain, by orders of the French king the church plate brought from Carthagena was returned, and Buccaneering prohibited. The government advised that force should be resorted to to induce those Flibustiers to turn planters who were not willing to avail themselves of the amnesty. Those who had settled in Jamaica, seeing in 1702 a new war likely to break out between England and France, and determined not to take arms against their own country, passed over to the mainland, and settled in Bocca Toro. As soon as the war broke out, however, a great many French Buccaneers, persecuted at St. Domingo, joined the English under Benbow. In 1704, M. Auger, a new governor, coming to St. Domingo, and seeing the false step his predecessors had taken, recalled the Flibustiers, and made peace with the Bocca Toro Indians. M. d'Herville led 1500 of them to the Havannah, and died there. He held the Buccaneers of Hispaniola far beyond those of Martinique, and, had he lived, would have united them all under his flag. In 1707 Le Comte de Choiseul Beaupré, the new governor, attempted to revive Buccaneering as the only hope of saving French commerce in the Indies, the English privateers carrying off every merchant ship that approached the shores of St. Domingo. The French government approved of all his plans, and gave him unlimited power to carry them out. He issued an amnesty to all Flibustiers who had settled among the Indians of Sambres and Bocca Toro. The greater part of those who had joined the English returned; and those who had joined in the last expedition against Carthagena received their pay. The Brothers were restored to all their ancient privileges. The Count intended to guard the coast with frigates while his smaller vessels harassed Jamaica, but in the midst of these immature projects he was killed, in 1710, in a sea engagement. The Buccaneers, gathered from every part, now turned planters. Thus, says Charlevoix, ended the "Flibuste de Saint Domingue," which only required discipline and leaders of ambition to have conquered both North and South America. Undisciplined and tumultuous as it has been, without order, plan, forethought, or subordination, it has still been the astonishment of the whole world, and has done deeds which posterity will not believe. Attachment to old habits and difficulty in finding employment made many turn pirates. Proscribed now by all nations, with no excuse for plunder, and with no safe place of refuge, they sailed over the world, enemies to all they met. Many frequented the Guinea coast, others cruised off the coast of India, and New Providence island, one of the Bahama group, was now the only sanctuary. Here the memorable Blackbeard, Martel, and his associates, were at last hunted down, about 1717. The last achievement related of the Flibustiers is in 1702, when a party of Englishmen having a commission from the Governor of Jamaica, landed on the Isthmus of Darien, near the Samballas isles, and were joined by some old Flibustiers who had settled there, and 300 friendly Indians. With these allies they marched to the mines, drove out the Spaniards according to Dampier's plan, and took seventy negroes. They kept these slaves at work twenty-one days, but obtained, after all, only eighty pounds' weight of gold. CHAPTER IV. THE PIRATES OF NEW PROVIDENCE AND THE KINGS OF MADAGASCAR. Laws and dress--Government--Blackbeard--His enormities--Captain Avery and the Great Mogul--Davis--Lowther--Low--Roberts--Major Bonnet--Captain Gow--the Guinea coast. The last refugee Buccaneers turned pirates, and settled in the island of New Providence. The African coast, and not the main, was now their cruising ground, and Madagascar was their new Tortuga. They no longer warred merely against the Spaniard--their hands were raised against the world. Their cruelty was no longer the cruelty of retaliation, but arose from a thirst of blood, never to be slaked, and still unquenchable. There was no longer honour among the bands, and they grew as cowardly as they were ferocious. Flocks of trading vessels were scuttled, but no town attacked. We waste time even to detail their guilt, and only append the terrible catalogue as a _finis_ to our narrative. The following articles, signed by Roberts's crew, may furnish a fair example of the ordinary rules drawn up by pirate captains:-- "Every man has a vote in affairs of moment, and an equal title to the fresh provisions or strong liquors at any time seized; which he may use at pleasure, unless a scarcity make it necessary for the good of all to vote a retrenchment. "Every man shall be called fairly in turn by list on board the prizes, and, over and above their proper share, shall be allowed a change of clothes. Any man who defrauds the company to the value of a dollar in plate, jewels, or money, shall be marooned. If the robbery is by a messmate, the thief shall have his ears and nose slit, and be set on shore at the place the ship touches at. "No man shall play at cards or dice for money. "The lights and candles to be put out at eight o'clock at night. If any of the crew, after that hour, still remain inclined for drinking, they are to do it on the open deck. "Every man shall keep his piece, pistols, and cutlass clean, and fit for service. "No woman to be allowed on board. Any man who seduces a woman, and brings her to sea disguised, shall suffer death. "Any one deserting the ship, or leaving his quarters during an engagement, shall be either marooned or put to death. "No man shall strike another on board, but the disputants shall settle their quarrel on shore with sword or pistol. "No man shall talk of breaking up the company till we get each £100. Every man losing a limb, or becoming a cripple in the service, shall have 800 dollars, and for lesser hurts proportional recompence. "The captain and quartermaster shall receive two shares of every prize. The master, boatswain, and gunner one share and a-half, and all other officers one and a-quarter. "The musicians to rest on Sundays, but on no other days without special favour." From another set of articles we find, that "He that shall be found guilty of taking up any unlawful weapon on board a prize so as to strike a comrade, shall be tried by the captain and company, and receive due punishment. "All men guilty of cowardice shall also be tried. "If any gold, jewels, or silver, to the value of a piece of eight, be found on board a prize, and the finder do not deliver it to the quartermaster within twenty-four hours, he shall be put to his trial. "Any one found guilty of defrauding another to the value of a shilling, shall be tried. "Quarter always to be given when called for. "He that sees a sail first, to have the best pistols or small arms on board of her." One of the most cruel of their punishments was "sweating," an ingenuity probably invented by the London rakes and "scourers" of Charles the Second's reign. They first stuck up lighted candles circularly round the mizenmast, between decks, and within this circle admitted the prisoners one by one. Outside the candles stood the pirates armed with penknives, tucks, forks, and compasses, and the musicians playing a lively dance, they drove the prisoner round, pricking him as he passed. This could seldom be borne more than ten minutes, at the end of which time the wretch, maddened with fear and pain, generally fell senseless. Their diversions were as strange as their cruelties. On one occasion some pirates captured a ship laden with horses, going from Rhode Island to St. Christopher's. The sailors mounted these beasts, and rode them backwards and forwards, full gallop, along the decks, cursing and shouting till the animals grew maddened. When two or three of these rough riders were thrown, they leaped up and fell on the crew with their sabres, declaring that they would kill them for not bringing boots and spurs, without which no man could ride. In dress the pirates were fantastic and extravagant. Their favourite ornament was a broad sash slung across the breast and fastened on the shoulder and hip with coloured ribbons. In this they slung three and four pairs of pistols, for which, at the sales at the mast, they would often give £40 a-pair. Gold-laced cocked hats were conspicuous features of their costume. For small offences, too insignificant for a jury, the quartermaster was the arbitrator. If they disobeyed his command, except in time of battle, when the captain was supreme, were quarrelsome or mutinous, misused prisoners, or plundered when plundering should cease, or were negligent of their arms, as the master he might cudgel or whip them. He was, in fact, the manager of all duels, and the trustee of the whole company, returning to the owners what he chose (except gold and silver), and confiscating whatever he thought advisable. The quartermaster was, in fact, their magistrate, the captain their king. The captain had always the great cabin to himself, and was often voted parcels of plate and china. Any sailor, however, might use his punch-bowl, enter his room, swear at him, and seize his food, without his daring to find fault, or contest his rights. The captain was generally chosen for being "pistol proof," and in some cases had as privy council a certain number of the elder sailors, who were called "lords." The captain's power was uncontrollable in time of chase or battle: he might then strike, stab, or shoot anybody who disobeyed his orders. The fate of the prisoner depended much upon the captain, who was oftener inclined to mercy than his crew. Their flags were generally intended to strike terror. Roberts's was a black silk flag, with a white skeleton upon it, with an hour-glass in one hand, and cross-bones in the other, underneath a dart, and a heart dripping blood. The pennon bore a man with a flaming sword in one hand, standing on two skulls, one inscribed A.B.H. (a Barbadian's head), and the other, A.M.H. (a Martiniquian's head). EDWARD TEACH, _alias_ Blackbeard, was born in Bristol, and at a seaport town all daring youths turn sailors. He soon became distinguished for daring and courage, but did not obtain any command till 1716, when a Captain Benjamin Hornigold gave him the command of a sloop, and became his partner in piracy, till he surrendered. In the spring of 1717, the pair sailed from their haunt in New Providence towards the Spanish main, and taking by the way a shallop from the Havannah, laden with flour, supplied their own vessels. From a ship of Bermuda they obtained wine, and from a craft of Madeira they got considerable plunder. Careening on the Virginian coast, they returned to the West Indies, and capturing a large French Guinea-man, bound for Martinique, Teach went aboard as captain, and started for a cruise. Hornigold, returning to New Providence, surrendered to proclamation, and gave himself up to Governor Rogers. Blackbeard had in the mean time mounted his prize with forty guns, and christened her the _Queen Anne's Revenge_. Cruising off St. Vincent, he captured the _Great Allan_, and having plundered her, and set the men on shore, fired the ship, and let her drift to sea. A few days after, Teach was attacked by the _Scarborough_ man-of-war, who, finding him well manned, retired to Barbadoes, after a cannonade of some hours. On his way to the mainland, Teach was joined by Major Bonnet, a gentleman planter, turned pirate, who joined with him, commanding a sloop of ten guns. Finding he knew nothing of naval affairs, Teach soon deposed him, and took him on board his own ship, on pretext of relieving him from the fatigues and cares of such a post, wishing him, as he said, to live easy and do no duty. While taking in water near the Bay of Honduras, they surprised a sloop from Jamaica, which surrendered without a blow, striking sail at the first terror of the black flag. The men they took on board Teach's vessel, and manned it for their own use. At Honduras they found a ship and four sloops, some from Jamaica, and some from Boston. The Americans deserted one vessel, and escaped on shore, and the pirates burnt it in revenge. The other vessel they also burnt, because some pirate had been lately hung at Boston. The three sloops they allowed to depart. Taking turtles at the Grand Caiman's islands, they sailed to the Havannah, and from the Bahamas went to Carolina, capturing a brigantine and two sloops. For six days they lay off the bar of Charlestown, taking many vessels, and a brigantine laden with negroes. The people of Carolina, who had not long before been visited by the pirate Vane, were dumb with terror. No vessel dared put out, and the trade of the place stood still. To add to these misfortunes, a long and expensive war with the natives, only just concluded, had much impoverished the colony. Teach detained all the ships and prisoners, and being in want of medicines, sent a boat's crew of men ashore, with one of the prisoners, to ask the governor to supply him with the drugs. The pirates were insolent in their demands, and, swearing horribly, vowed, if any violence was offered to them, that their captain would murder all the prisoners, send their heads to the governor, and then fire the vessels and slip cable. These rude ambassadors swaggered through the streets, insulting the inhabitants, who longed to seize them, but dared not, for fear of endangering the town. The governor did not deliberate long, for one of his brother magistrates was in the murderer's hands, and at once sent on board a chest, worth about £400, which the pirates returned with in triumph. Blackbeard then released the prisoners, having first taken about £1500 out of the ships, besides provisions. From the bar of Charlestown the kingly villains sailed to North Carolina, where Teach broke up the partnership, objecting to any division of money, preferring all the risk and all the profit. Running into an inlet to clean, he purposely grounded his ship, and Hands, another captain, coming to his assistance, ran ashore by his side. He then with forty men took possession of the third vessel, and marooned seventeen other men upon a sandy island, about a league from the main, where neither herb grew nor bird visited. Here they would have perished, had not Major Bonnet taken them off two days after. Teach then surrendered himself, with twenty of his men, to the Governor of North Carolina, and received certificates and pardons from him, having soon crept into his favour. Through the governor's permission, the _Queen Anne's Revenge_, though avowedly the property of English merchants, was forfeited by an Admiralty Court, as a Spaniard, and declared the property of Teach. Before setting out again to sea Blackbeard married his fourteenth wife, twelve more being still alive. The governor, who seems to have been half a pirate, and wholly a rogue, performed the ceremony. In June, 1718, he steered towards Bermudas, and meeting several English vessels, plundered them of provisions. He also captured two French vessels, one of which was loaded with sugar and cocoa, and bound to Martinico. The loaded vessel he brought home, and the governor, calling a court, condemned it as a derelict, and divided the plunder with Teach, receiving sixty hogsheads of sugar as his dividend, and his secretary twenty. For fear the vessel might still be claimed, Teach declared it was leaky, and burnt her to the water's edge. He now spent three or four months in the river, lying at anchor in the coves, or sailing from inlet to inlet, bartering his plunder with any ship he met, giving presents to the friendly, and ransacking those who resisted. His nights he spent in revelries with the planters, to whom he made presents of rum and sugar, sometimes, when he grew moody, laying them under contribution, and even bullying his confederate, the villainous governor. The plundered sloops, finding no justice could be obtained in Carolina, determined with great secresy to send a deputation to the Governor of Virginia, and to solicit a man-of-war to destroy the pirates. The governor instantly complied with their request. The next Sunday a proclamation was read in every church and chapel in Virginia, and by the sheriffs at their country houses. For Blackbeard's head £100 was offered, if brought in within the year, for his lieutenant's £20, for inferior officers £10, and for the common sailors £10. The _Pearl_ and _Lime_, men-of-war, lying in St. James's river, manned a couple of small sloops, supplied by the governor. They had no guns mounted, but were well supplied with small arms and ammunition. The command was given to Lieutenant Robert Maynard, of the _Pearl_, a man of courage and resolution. On the 7th of November the Lieutenant sailed from Picquetan, and on the evening of the 21st reached the mouth of the Ollereco inlet, and sighted the pirates. Great secresy was observed: all boats and vessels met going up the river were stopped to prevent Blackbeard knowing of their approach. But the governor contrived to put him on his guard, and sent back four of his men, whom he found lounging about the town. Blackbeard, frequently alarmed by such reports, gave no credit to the messenger, till he saw the sloops. He instantly cleared his decks, having only twenty-five of his forty men on board. Having prepared for battle with all the coolness of an old desperado, he spent the night in drinking with the master of a trading sloop, who seemed to be in his pay. Maynard, finding the place shoal and the channel intricate, dropped anchor, knowing there was no reaching the pirate that night. The next morning early he weighed, sent his boat ahead to sound, and, coming within gunshot of Teach, received his fire. The lieutenant then, boldly hoisting the king's colours, made at him with all speed of sail and oar, part of his men keeping up a discharge of small arms. Teach then cut cable and made a running fight, discharging his big guns. In a little time the pirate ran aground, and the royal vessel drawing more water anchored within half a gunshot. The lieutenant then threw his ballast overboard, staved all his water, and then weighed and stood in for the enemy. Blackbeard, loudly cursing, hailed him. "D---- you villains, who are you? From whence come you?" The lieutenant replied, "You see by our colours we are no pirates." Teach bade him send a boat on board that he might know who he was. Maynard answered that he could not spare his boat, but would soon board with his sloop. Whereupon Blackbeard, drinking to him, cried, "Devil seize my soul if I give you quarter or take any." Maynard at once replied, "He should neither give nor take quarter." By this Blackbeard's sloop floated, and the royal boats were fast approaching. The sloops being scarcely a foot high in the waist, the men were exposed as they toiled at the sweeps. Hitherto few on either side had fallen. Suddenly Blackbeard poured in a broadside of grape, and killed twenty men on board one ship and nine on board the other; his vessel then fell broadside to the shore to keep its one side protected, and the disabled sloop fell astern. The Virginia men still kept to their oars, however exposed, because otherwise, there being no wind, the pirate would certainly have escaped. Maynard finding his own sloop had way, and would soon be on board, ordered his men all down below, for fear of another broadside, which would have been his total destruction. He himself was the only man that kept the deck, even the man at the helm lying down snug; the men in the hold were ordered to get their pistols and cutlasses ready for close fighting, and to come up the companion at a moment's signal. Two ladders were placed in the hatchway ready for the word. As they boarded, Teach's men threw in grenades made of case-bottles, filled with powder, shot, and slugs, and fired with a quick match. Blackbeard, seeing no one on board, cried out, "They are all knocked on the head except three or four, and therefore I will jump on board and cut to pieces those that are still alive." Under smoke of one of the fire-pots he leaped over the sloop's bows, followed by fourteen men. For a moment he was not heard, during the explosion, nor seen for the smoke. Directly the air cleared Maynard gave the signal, and his men, rising in an instant, attacked the pirates with a rush and a cheer. Blackbeard and the lieutenant fired the first pistols at each other, and then engaged with sabres till the lieutenant's broke. Stepping back to cock his pistol, Blackbeard was in the act of cutting him down, when one of Maynard's men gave the pirate a terrible gash in the throat, and the lieutenant escaped with a small cut over his fingers. They were now hotly engaged, Blackbeard and his fourteen men--the lieutenant and his twelve. The sea grew red round the vessel. The ball from Maynard's first pistol shot Blackbeard in the body, but he stood his ground, and fought with fury till he received twenty cuts and five more shot. Having already fired several pistols (for he wore many in his sash), he fell dead as he was cocking another. Eight of his fourteen companions having now fallen, the rest, much wounded, leaped overboard and called for quarter, which was granted till the gibbet could be got ready. The other vessel now coming up attacked the rest of the pirates, and compelled them to surrender. So ended a man that in a good cause had proved a Leonidas. With great guns the lieutenant might have destroyed him with less loss, but no large vessel would have got up the river, so shallow, that, small as it was, the sloop grounded a hundred times. The very broadside, although destructive, saved the lives of the survivors, for Blackbeard, expecting to be boarded, had placed a daring fellow, a negro named Cæsar, in the powder room, with orders to blow it up at a given signal. It was with great difficulty that two prisoners in the hold dissuaded him from the deed when he heard of his captain's death. The lieutenant cutting off Blackbeard's head, hung it at his boltsprit end, and sailed into Bath Town to get relief for his wounded men. In rummaging the sloop, the connivance of the governor was detected; the secretary, falling sick with fear, died in a few days, and the governor was compelled to refund the hogsheads. When the wounded men began to recover, the lieutenant sailed back into James's river, with the black head still hanging from the spar, and bringing fifteen prisoners, thirteen of whom were hung. Of the two survivors, one was an unlucky fellow captured only the night before the engagement, who had received no less than seventy wounds, but was cured of them all and recovered. The other was the master of the pirate sloop, who had been shot by Blackbeard, and put on shore at Bath Town. His wound he received in the following way: One night, drinking in the cabin with the mate, a pilot, and another sailor, Blackbeard, without any provocation, drew out a small pair of pistols and cocked them under the table. The sailor, perceiving this, said nothing, but got up and went on deck. The pistols being ready, Blackbeard blew out the candle, and, crossing his hands under the table, discharged the pistols. The master fell shot through the knee, lamed for life, the other bullet hit no one. Being asked the meaning of this cruelty, Blackbeard answered, by swearing that if he did not kill one of them now and then, they would forget who he was. This man was about to be executed, when a ship arrived from England with a proclamation prolonging the time of pardon to those who would surrender. He pleaded this, was released, and ended his days as a beggar in London. It is a singular fact that many of Blackbeard's captors themselves eventually turned pirates. Teach derived his nickname from his long black beard, which he twisted with ribbons into small tails, and turned about his ears. This beard was more terrible to America than a comet, say his historians. In time of action he wore a sling over his shoulders, with three brace of pistols hanging to it in holsters like bandoliers. He then stuck lighted matches under his hat, and this, with his natural fierce and wild eyes, gave him the aspect of a demon. His frolics were truly satanic, and only madness can furnish us with any excuse for such crimes. Pre-eminent in wickedness, he was constantly resorting to artifices to maintain that pre-eminence. One day at sea, when flushed with drink, "Come," said he, "let us make a hell of our own, and try how long we can bear it." He then, with two or three others, went down into the hold, and, closing up all the hatches, lighted some pots of brimstone, and continued till the men, nearly suffocated, cried for air and pushed up the hatches. Blackbeard triumphed in having held out longest. The night before he was killed, as he was drinking, one of his men asked him, if anything should happen to him, if his wife knew where he had buried his money. He answered that nobody but himself and the devil knew where it was, and the longest liver should have all. These blasphemies had filled the crew with superstitious fears, and perhaps unnerved their arms in the last struggle. The survivors declared that, once upon a cruise, a man was found on board more than the crew, sometimes below and sometimes above. No one knew whence he came and who he was, but believed him to be the devil, as he disappeared shortly before their great ship was cast away. In Blackbeard's journal were found many entries illustrating the fear and misery of a pirate's life. For instance-- "3rd June, all rum out; our company somewhat sober; rogues a plotting; great talk of separation; so I looked sharp for a prize. 5th June, took one with a great deal of liquor on board, so kept the company hot, d---- hot; then all things went well again." Some sugar, cocoa, indigo, and cotton were found on board the pirate sloops, and some in a tent on the shore. This, with the sloop, sold for £2500. The whole was divided amongst the crews of the _Lime_ and _Pearl_, the brave captors getting no more than their dividend, and that very tardily paid, as such things usually are by English governments. CAPTAIN ENGLAND began life as mate of a Jamaica sloop, and being taken by a pirate named Winter, before Providence was turned into a freebooter fortress, became master of a piratical vessel. He soon became remarkable for his courage and generosity. When Providence was taken by the English, England sailed to the African coast, a hot place, but not too hot for him, like the shores of the main. He here took several ships, among others the _Cadogan_, bound from Bristol to Sierra Leone--Skinner, master. Some of England's crew had formerly served in this ship, and, having proved mutinous, had been mulcted of their wages and sent on board a man of war, from whence deserting to a West Indian sloop, they were taken by pirates, and eventually joined England and started for a cruise. As soon as Skinner struck to the black flag, he was ordered on board the pirate. The first person he saw was his old boatswain, who addressed him with a sneer of suppressed hatred. "Ah, Captain Skinner," said he, "is that you? the very man I wished to see. I am much in your debt, and will pay you now in your own coin." The brave seaman trembled, for he knew his fate, and shuddered as an ox does when it smells the blood of a slaughter-house. The boatswain, instantly shouting to his companions, bound the captain fast to the windlass. They then, amidst roars of cruel laughter, pelted him with glass bottles till he was cut and gashed in a dreadful manner. After this, they whipped him round the deck till they were weary, in spite of his prayers and entreaties. At last, vowing that he should have an easy death, as he had been a good master to his men, they shot him through the head. England then plundered the vessel and gave it to the mate and the crew of murderers, and they sailed with it till they reached death's door, and the port whose name is terrible. Taking soon after a ship called the _Pearl_, England fitted her up for his own use, and re-christened her the _Royal James_. With her they took several vessels of various nations at the Azores and Cape de Verd Islands. In 1719 the rovers returned to Africa, and, beginning at the river Gambia, sailed all down the torrid coast as far as Cape Corso. In this trip they captured the _Eagle Pink_, six guns, the _Charlotte_, eight guns, the _Sarah_, four guns, the _Wentworth_, twelve guns, the _Buck_, two guns, the _Castanet_, four guns, the _Mercury_, four guns, the _Coward_, two guns, and the _Elizabeth_ and _Catherine_, six guns. Three of these vessels they let go, and four they burnt. Two they fitted up as pirates, and calling them the _Queen Anne's Revenge_ and the _Flying King_, many of the prisoners joined their bands. These two ships sailed to the West Indies, and careening, started for Brazil, taking several Portuguese vessels, but were finally driven off by a Portuguese man-of-war. The _Revenge_ escaped, but soon after went down at sea; the _Flying King_ ran ashore; twelve of the seventy men were killed, and the rest taken prisoners. Thirty-two English, three Dutch, and two Frenchmen of these were at once hung. But to return to England. In going down the coast, he captured two more vessels, and detained one, releasing the other. Two other ships, seeing them coming, got safe under the guns of Cape Corso castle. The pirates, turning their last prize into a fire-ship, resolved to destroy both the fugitives, but, the castle firing hotly upon them, they retreated, and at Whydah road found Captain la Bouche, another pirate, had forestalled their market. Here England fitted up a Bristol galley for his own use, calling it the _Victory_. Committing many insolences on shore, the negroes rose upon them and compelled them to retire to their ship, when they had fired one village, and killed many of the natives. They now put it to the vote what voyage to take, and, deciding for the East Indies, arrived at Madagascar (1720), and, taking in water and provisions, sailed for the coast of Malabar, in the Mogul's territory. They took several Indian vessels, and one Dutch, which they exchanged for one of their own, and then returned to Madagascar. England now sent some men on shore, with tents, powder, and shot, to kill hogs, and procure venison, but they searched in vain for Avery's men. Cleaning their ships, they then set sail for Panama, falling in with two English ships, and one Dutch, all Indiamen. Fourteen of La Bouche's crew boarded the Englishmen in canoes, declaring that they belonged to the _Indian Queen_, twenty-eight guns, which had been lost on that coast, and that their captain, with forty men, was building a new vessel. The two English captains, Mackra and Reily, were about to sink and destroy these castaways, when England's two vessels, of thirty-four and thirty-eight guns, stood in to the bay. In spite of all promises of aid, the _Ostender_ and _Kirby_ deserted Mackra, a breeze admitting of their escape, while the pirate's black and bloody flags were still flaunting the air. Mackra, undaunted by their desertion, fought desperately for three hours, beating off one of the pirates, striking her between wind and water, and shooting away their oars, when they put out their sweeps and tried to board. Mackra being wounded in the head, and most of his officers killed, ran ashore, and England following, ran also aground, and failed in boarding. The engagement then commenced with fresh vigour, and, had Kirby come up, the pirates would have been driven off. England, obtaining three boats full of fresh men, was now in the ascendant, and soon after Kirby stood out to sea, leaving his companion in the very jaws of death. Mackra, seeing death inevitable, lowered the boats and escaped to land, under cover of the smoke, and the pirate, soon after boarding, cut three of their wounded men in pieces. The survivors fled to Kingstown, a place twenty-five miles distant. England offered 10,000 dollars for Mackra's head, but the king and chief people being in his interest, and a report being spread of his death, he remained safe for ten days, then obtaining a safe conduct from the pirate, Mackra had an interview with their chief. England and some men who had once sailed with Mackra protected him from those who would have cut him to pieces, with all who would not turn rovers. Finding that they talked of burning their own ships, and refitting the English prize, Mackra prevailed on them to give him the shattered ship, the _Fancy_, of Dutch build, and 300 tons burden, and also to return 129 bales of the Company's cloth. Fitting up jury masts, Mackra sailed for Bombay, with forty-five sailors, two passengers, and twelve soldiers, arriving after much suffering, and a passage of forty-three days, frequently becalmed between Arabia and Malabar. In the engagement he had thirteen men killed and twenty-four wounded, and killed nearly a hundred of the pirates. If Kirby had proved staunch, he might have destroyed them both, and secured £100,000 of booty. Opposed to him were 300 whites and eighty blacks. We are happy to record that this brave fellow was well rewarded, and honoured with fresh command. Nothing but despair could have driven Mackra, he said in his published account, to throw himself upon the pirates' mercy, still wounded and bleeding as they were. He did not either seem to know how friendly the Guiana people were to the English, so much so, that there was a proverb, "A Guiana man and an Englishman are all one." When he first came on board, England took him aside and told him that his interest was declining among his crew, that they were provoked at his opposition to their cruelty, and that he should not be able to protect him. He advised him, therefore, to win over Captain Taylor, a man who had become a favourite amongst them by his superiority in wickedness. Mackra tried to soften this wretch with a bowl of punch, and the pirates were in a tumult whether to kill him or no, when a sailor, stuck round with pistols, came stumping upon a wooden leg up the quarterdeck and asked for Captain Mackra, swearing and vapouring, and twirling a tremendous pair of whiskers. The captain, expecting he was his executioner, called out his name. To his delight, the bravo seized him by the hand, and, shaking it violently, swore he was d----d glad to see him. "Show me the man," cries he, "that dares offer to hurt Captain Mackra, for I'll stand by him; he's an honest fellow, and I know him well." This put an end to the dispute. Taylor consented to give the ship, and fell asleep on the deck. Mackra put off instantly, by England's advice, lest the monster should awake and change his mind. This clemency soon led to England's deposition, and on a rumour that Mackra was fitting out a force against them, he was marooned with three more on the island of Mauritius, and making a boat of drift wood, escaped to Madagascar. The pirate, detaining some of Mackra's men, set sail for the Indies. Seeing two ships which they supposed to be English, they commanded one of their prisoners to show them the Company's private signals, or they would cut him in pound pieces. On approaching, they proved to be Moorish ships from Muscat, loaded with horses. They rifled the ships and put the officers to the torture, and left them without sails and with the masts cut through. The next day they fell in with the Bombay fleet of eight vessels and 100 men, despatched to attack Angria, a Malabar chief. Afraid to show their fear, the pirates attacked the fleet and destroyed two laggers, torturing the crew and sending them adrift. The commodore of the fleet would not fight the pirates without orders, which so enraged the governor of Bombay, that he appointed Mackra the commander, and enjoined him to pursue and engage England wherever he met him. Some time after this, the same fleet, aided by the Viceroy of Goa, landed 10,000 men at Calabar, Angria's stronghold, but were compelled to retreat. The next day between Goa and Carwar the pirates drove two grabs under the guns of India-diva castle, and would have taken the island but for the delay. At Carwar they took a ship, and sent in a prisoner to demand water and provisions, for which they offered to surrender their prize. Failing in this they sailed for the Laccadeva islands, and landing at Melinda, violated the women, destroyed the cocoa trees, and burnt the churches. At Tellechery they heard of Mackra's expedition, and cursed his ingratitude. Some wished to hang the dogs who were left, but the majority agreed to keep them alive to show their contempt and revenge. At Calicut they attempted to take a large Moorish ship in the roads, but were prevented by some guns mounted on the shore. One of Mackra's men they obliged to tend the braces on the booms amid all the fire. When he refused, they threatened to shoot him or loaded him with blows. His old tormentor, Captain Taylor, being gouty, could not hold a cudgel. Some interceded for him, but Taylor declared if he was let go he would disclose all their plans. They next arrived at Cochin, and, sending on shore a fishing boat with a letter, ran into the road, saluting the fort. At night boats came off with provisions and liquor. The governor sent a boat full of arrack and sixty bales of sugar, and received in return a present of a table clock, and a gold watch for his daughter. The boatmen they paid some £7000, and threw them handfuls of ducatoons to scramble for. The fiscal brought out cloths and piece goods for sale, but the fort opened fire when they chased a vessel under its shelter. They were soon after chased by five tall ships, supposed to be Mackra's, but escaped. Their Christmas for three days they spent in a carouse, using the greater part of their fresh provisions, so that in their voyage to the Mauritius they were reduced to a bottle of water and two pounds of beef a day for ten men. Fitting up at Mauritius, they sailed again in two months, leaving this inscription on one of the walls: "Left this place the 5th of April, to go to Madagascar for limes." At the island of Mascarius they fell upon a great prize, finding the Viceroy of Goa in a Portuguese ship of seventy guns, lying dismasted on the shore. Of diamonds alone she had a cargo worth four millions of dollars. The viceroy coming calmly on board, taking them for English, was captured with all his officers, and ransomed for 2000 dollars. To the leeward of the island they found an Ostend vessel, which they sent to Madagascar to prepare masts for the prize, and followed soon after with a cargo of 2000 Mozambique negroes. When they reached Madagascar they found that the Dutch crew had made the pirates drunk, and sailed back to Mozambique, and from thence to Goa with the governor. They now divided their plunder, most of them receiving forty-two small diamonds as their share. The madman, who obtained one large one, broke it in a mortar, swearing he had got now a better share than any of them, for he had forty-three sparks. Some of the pirates now gave up their wild life and settled in _matelotage_ at Madagascar, on the tontine principle of the longest liver inheriting all. The two prizes were then burnt, and Taylor sailed for Cochin to sell his diamonds to the Dutch, and thence to the Red and China Seas, to avoid the English men-of-war. The pirates, about this time, had 11 sail and 1500 men in the Indian seas, but soon separated for the coast of Brazil and Guinea, or to settle and fortify themselves at Madagascar, Mauritius, Johanna, and Mohilla. A pirate named Condin, in a ship called the _Dragon_, took a vessel from Mocha with thirteen lacs of rupees (130,000 half-crowns), and burning the ship settled at Madagascar. The commander of the English fleet, still in pursuit of these pirates, attempted to prevail on England to serve him as spy and pilot, but in vain. Taylor, resolving to sail to the Indies, but hearing of the four men-of-war, started for the African main, and put into Delagoa, destroying a small fort of six guns. This fort belonged to the Dutch East India Company, but its 150 men had been deserted, and left to pine away and starve; sixteen turned pirates, but the rest, being Dutch, were left to die. They stayed in this den of fever three months, and having careened, paid the Dutch with bales of muslins and chintzes. Some now left, and returned to settle in Madagascar. The rest sailed for the West Indies, and, escaping the fangs of two English men-of-war, surrendered themselves to the Governor of Porto Bello. Eight of them afterwards passed to Jamaica as shipwrecked sailors, and shipped for England. Captain Taylor entered the Spanish service, and commanded the man-of-war that afterwards attacked the English logwood-cutters in the bay of Honduras, and caused the Spanish war. CAPTAIN AVERY was a more remarkable man than England, and his ambition of a wider kind. He was a native of Plymouth, and served as mate of a merchant vessel in several voyages. Before the peace of Ryswick, the French of Martinique carried on a smuggling trade with the natives of Peru, in spite of the Spanish _guarda costas_. The Spaniards, finding their vessels too weak for the French, hired two Bristol vessels of thirty guns and 220 men, which were to sail first to Corunna or the Groine, and from thence to the main. Of one of these ships, the _Duke_, Gibson was commander, and Avery first mate. Avery, planning with the boldest and most turbulent of the crew, plotted to run away with the vessels, and turn pirates on the Indian coasts. The captain, a man much addicted to drink, had gone to bed, when sixteen conspirators from the other vessel, the _Duchess_, came on board and joined the company. Their watchword was, "Is your drunken boatswain on board?" Securing the hatches, they slipped their cable and put to sea, without any disorder, although surrounded by vessels. A Dutch frigate of forty guns refused to interrupt their progress, although offered a reward. The captain, awoke by the motion of the ship and the noise of working the tackle, rang his bell, and Avery and two others entered the cabin. The captain, frightened and thinking the ship had broken from her anchors, asked, "What was the matter?" Avery replied coolly, "Nothing." The captain answered, "Something has happened to the ship; does she drive? what weather is it?" "No, no," said Avery, "we're at sea with a fair wind and good weather." "At sea?" said the captain, "how can that be?" Upon which Avery told him to get up and put on his clothes, and he could tell him a secret, for he (Avery) was captain, and that was his cabin, and that he was on his way to Madagascar to make his fortune and that of all the brave fellows who were with him. Avery then bade the captain not to be afraid, for if he was sober and minded his business, he might in time make him one of his lieutenants. At his request, however, he sent him on shore with six others. On reaching Madagascar they found two sloops lying at anchor, which the men had run away with from the West Indies, and who, taking his vessel for a frigate, fled into the woods and posted themselves in a strong place with sentinels. Discovering their mistake, after some cautious parleying, they united together and sailed for the Arabian coast. Near the river Indus they espied a sail and gave chase, believing they had caught a Dutch East Indian ship, but found it to be one of the Great Mogul's vessels, carrying his daughter with pilgrims and offerings to Mecca. The sloops boarded her on either side, and she at once struck her colours. The Indian ship was loaded with treasure, the slaves and attendants richly clad and covered with jewels, and all having vessels of gold and silver, and large sums of money to defray their expenses in the land journey. Taking all the treasure, they let the princess go, and the ship put back for India. The Mogul, on learning it, threatened to drive the English from India with fire and sword, but the Company contrived to pacify him by promising to deliver up to him the pirate ship and her crew. The rumours of this adventure occasioned a report at Wapping that Jack Avery had married the Great Mogul's daughter, founded an empire, and purchased a fleet. Avery, having secured his prize, determined to return to Madagascar, build a fort and magazine where he could leave a garrison to overawe the natives when he was absent on a cruise. A fresh scheme suggesting itself, he resolved to plunder his friends the sloops, and return to New Providence. He began by sending a boat on board each of his allies, desiring their captain to come and attend a general council. At this meeting he represented to them that if they were separated in a storm they must be taken, and the treasure would then be lost to the rest. He therefore proposed, as his ship was so strong that it could hold its own against any vessel they could meet with on those seas, to put the treasure on board in his care, in a chest sealed with three seals, and that a rendezvous should be appointed in case of separation. The two captains at once agreed to the proposal as manifestly for the common good. That day and the next the weather was fair, and they all kept company. In the mean time Avery persuaded his men to abscond with the plunder, and escape to some country where they might spend the rest of their days in splendour and luxury. Taking advantage of a dark night, they steered a new course, and by morning had lost sight of the outwitted sloops. Avery now resolved to steer for America, change his name, purchase a settlement, and die in peace and charity with all the world--a calm, rich Christian. They first visited New Providence, afraid that they might be detected in New England as the deserters from the Groine expedition. Avery, pretending that his vessel was a privateer that had missed her mark and was sold by the owners, disposed of her to good advantage, and bought a sloop. In this vessel he touched at several parts of the American coast, giving his men their dividends, and allowing those who chose to leave the ship. The greater part of the diamonds he had concealed at the first plunder of the vessel. Some of his men settled at Boston; but he, afraid of selling his diamonds in New England, betook himself with a few companions to Ireland, putting into one of the northern ports, and avoiding St. George's Channel. The sailors now dispersed. Some went to Dublin, and some to Cork, to obtain pardons from King William. Avery, still afraid of being apprehended as a pirate if he offered his diamonds for sale, passed over to England, and sent for some Bristol friends to Bideford. They agreed, for a commission, to put the stones into the hands of Bristol merchants who, being men of wealth and credit, would not be suspected. The merchants, after some negotiation, visited him at Bideford, and, after many protestations of honour and integrity, received several packets of diamonds and some vessels of gold to dispose of. They gave him some money for his present necessities and departed. Changing his name Avery continued to live at Bideford, visited by those relations to whom he confided his secret. The merchants, after many letters and much importunity, sent him small supplies of money, scarce sufficient to pay his debts and buy him bread. Weary of this life, he ventured over privately to Bristol, and to his dismay, when he desired them to come to an account with him, they threatened to proclaim him as a pirate, for men who had been robbed by him could be found on the 'Change, in the docks, or in any street. Afraid of their threats (for he never showed much personal courage), or detected by some sailor, he fled to Ireland, and from thence again solicited the merchants, but in vain, for a supply. In a short time reduced to beggary, he resolved to throw himself upon their throats, and obtain money or revenge, and, working his passage on board a trading vessel to Plymouth, travelled on foot to Bideford. In a few days he fell sick and died, and was buried at the expense of the parish. To return to the deserted crews of the sloops. They, believing the separation an accident, sailed at once to the rendezvous, and then discovering the cheat, and having no more fresh provisions, resolved to establish themselves on land. They therefore made tents of their sails, and unloaded their vessels. On shore they were joined by the crew of a privateer which had been despatched by the government of Bermuda to take the French factory of Goree, in the river Gambia, and had turned pirates by the way, Captain Tew, their captain, capturing a large Arabian vessel in the strait of Babelmandel, in spite of its crew and 300 soldiers. By this prize his men gained £3000 a-piece, and but for the cowardice and mutiny of the quartermaster and some others would have captured five other ships. This leading to a quarrel, the band left off pirating, and retired to Madagascar. Captain Tew sailed to Rhode Island, and obtained a pardon. The pirates lived at Madagascar like little princes, each with his harem, and with large retinues of slaves, whom they employed in fishing, hunting, and planting rice. The English sided with some of the negro princes in their wars, and struck such terror in their adversaries by their fire-arms, that whole armies fled at the sight of two or three of the white faces. At first, these piratical chieftains waged war on each other, but at last, alarmed by a revolt of the negroes, united in strict union. Before this they tied their slaves to trees, and shot them to death for the smallest offence; and at last the negroes, uniting in a general conspiracy, resolved to murder them all in one night. As they lived apart, this would undoubtedly have been done, had not one of their black concubines run nearly twenty miles in three hours to discover the plot. They instantly, upon this alarm, flocked together in arms, and compelled the advancing negroes to retire. This escape made them very cautious. They therefore fomented war between the native tribes, but henceforward remained neutral. All murderers and outlaws they took under their protection, and turned into body-guards, whilst the vanquished they defended. By this diplomacy, worthy of the most civilized people, they soon grew so powerful and numerous as to be compelled to branch out in colonies, parting into tribes, each with their wives and children. They had now all the power and all the fears of despotism. Their houses were citadels, and every hut a fortress. They generally chose a place overgrown with wood, and situated near a spring or pool. Round this spot they raised a rampart, encircled by a fosse. This wall was straight and steep, could not be ascended without scaling ladders, and had but one entrance. The hut was so hidden that it might not be seen at a distance. The passage that led to it was intricate, labyrinthine, and narrow, so that only one person could walk it abreast, and the path wound round and round, with so many cross-paths, that any one uninitiated might search for hours and not find the cabin. All along the sides of the path, huge thorns peculiar to the island were stuck into the ground, with points uppermost, like _chevaux-de-frise_, sufficient to impale the assailant who ventured by night. These men were found in this state by Captain Woods Rogers, when he visited Madagascar in the _Delicia_ (40 guns), wishing to buy slaves, to sell to the Dutch of New Holland. The men he met had been twenty-five years on the island, and had not seen a ship for seven years. The petty kings of the bush were covered with untanned skins, and were savage wretches, overgrown with beard and hair. They bartered slaves for cloths, knives, saws, powder, and ball. They went aboard the _Delicia_ and examined her with care, and, talking familiarly with the men, invited them on shore, intending to surprise the ship by night when there was a slender watch kept, having plenty of boats and arms. They wanted the men to surprise the captain, and clap those who resisted under hatches. At a given signal, the negroes were to row on board, and then all would start as pirates and roam round the world. The captain, observing the intimacy, would not suffer his men to even speak with the islanders, choosing an officer to negotiate with them for slaves. These pirate kings were all foremast men, and could read no more than their chief secretaries could write. The chief prince of this Newgate paradise had been a Thames waterman, who had committed a murder on the river. As even a few years since an old sailor at Minehead was known as the "King of Madagascar," we suppose divine right and hereditary succession still continue in that Eden of gaol-birds. During the time of war the pirates diminished in number and turned privateersmen, but increased at the peace of Utrecht, when the disbanded privateersmen again turned thieves for want of excitement and some more honest employment. About 1716, Captain Martel appeared as commander of a pirate sloop of eight guns and eighty men, that, cruising off Jamaica, captured a galley and another small vessel, from the former of which he plundered £1000. In their way to Cuba they took two more sloops, which they rummaged and let go, and off Cavena hoisted the black flag, and boarded a galley of twenty guns, called the _John and Martha_. Part of the men they put ashore and part enrolled in the crew. The cargo of logwood and sugar they seized, and, taking down one of the ship's decks, mounted her with twenty-two guns and 100 men, and proceeded to cruise off the Leeward Islands, capturing a sloop, a brigantine, and a Newfoundland vessel of twenty guns. They soon after plundered a Jamaica vessel, and two ships from Barbadoes, detaining all the best men, and from a Guinea galley they stole some gold dust, elephants' teeth, and forty slaves. In 1717, they put into Santa Cruz to clean and refit with a small piratical fleet of five vessels, warping up a little creek, very shallow, but guarded by rocks and sands. They then erected a battery of four guns on the island, and another of two guns near the road, while a sloop with eight guns protected the mouth of the channel. In November, 1716, the commander-in-chief of all the Leeward islands sent a sloop to Barbadoes for the _Scarborough_, of thirty guns and 140 men, to inform her of the pirate. The captain had just buried twenty men, and having forty sick could scarcely put out to sea. However, putting on a bold heart, he left his sick behind and beat up for recruits at all the islands he passed. At Antigua he took in twenty soldiers, at Nevis ten, and the same number at St. Christopher's. Unable to find the pirate, he was on the point of putting back, when a boat from Santa Cruz informed him of a creek where he had seen a vessel enter. The _Scarborough_ instantly sailed to the spot and discovered the pirates, but the pilot refused to enter. The pirates all this while fired red-hot shot from the shore; but at length the ship anchored alongside the reef and cannonaded the vessels and batteries. The sloop in the channel soon sank, and the larger vessel was much punished, but the _Scarborough_, fearing the reef, stood off and on for a day or two and blockaded the creek. The pirates, endeavouring to warp out and slip away, ran aground, and, seeing the _Scarborough_ again standing in, fired the ship and ran ashore, leaving twenty negroes to perish. Nineteen escaped in a sloop, and the captain and twenty other negroes fled to the woods, where it is supposed they perished, as they were never heard of again. Captain CHARLES VANE, our next Viking, is known as one of the men who helped to steal the silver which the Spaniards had fished up from their sunk galleons in the gulf of Florida. When Captain Rogers with his two men-of-war conquered Providence, and pardoned all the pirates who submitted, Vane slipped his cable, fired a prize in the harbour, hoisted the black flag, and, firing a broadside at one of the men-of-war, sailed boldly away. Capturing a Barbadoes vessel, he manned it with twenty-five hands, and, unloading an interloper of its pieces of eight, careened at a key, and spent some time in a revel. In the next cruise they captured some Spanish and New England vessels, and one laden with logwood. The crew of the latter they compelled to throw the lading overboard, intending to turn her into a pirate vessel, but in a fit of caprice suddenly let the men go and the ship with them. The prize captain, offended at Vane's arrogance, left him, and surrendered himself and 90 negroes to the governor of Charlestown, receiving a free pardon. Vane saluted the runaway with a broadside as he left, and lay wait for some time for him, but without success. Soon after this two armed sloops started in pursuit of Vane, and, failing in the capture, attacked and took another pirate vessel that was clearing at Cape Fear. In an inlet to the northward Vane met Blackbeard, and saluted him, according to piratical etiquette, with a discharge of his shotted guns. Off Long Island he attacked a vessel that proved to be a French man-of-war, and gave chase; Vane was for flight, but many of the men, in spite of the enemy's weight of metal and being twice their force, were for boarding. A pirate captain in all cases but that of fighting was controlled by a majority, but in this case had an absolute power; Vane refused to fight, and escaped. The next day Vane was branded by vote as a coward and deposed, and Rackham, his officer, elected captain. Vane and the minority were turned adrift in a sloop. Putting into the bay of Honduras, Vane captured another sloop, and fitted it up as a pirate vessel, and soon after captured two more. Vane was soon after shipwrecked on an island near Honduras, and most of his men drowned; he himself being supported by the turtle fishermen. While in this miserable state, a Jamaica vessel arrived, commanded by a Buccaneer, an old acquaintance, to whom he applied to help him. The man refused, declaring Vane would intrigue with his men, murder him, and run off as a pirate. On Vane expressing scruples about stealing a fisherman's boat from the beach, the Buccaneer declared that if he found him still there on his return he would take him to Jamaica and hang him. Soon after his friend's departure a vessel put in for water, and, not knowing Vane to be a pirate, took him on board as a sailor. On leaving the bay the Buccaneer met them and came on board to dine. Passing to the cabin he spied Vane working in the hold, and asked the captain if he knew that that was Vane, the notorious pirate. The other then declared he would not have him, and the Buccaneer, sending his mate on board with at loaded pistol, seized Vane and took him to Jamaica, where he was soon after hung. Rackham, after a cruise among the Caribbee islands, spent a Christmas on shore, and when the liquor was all gone put to sea. Their first prize was an ominous one, a ship laden with Newgate convicts bound for the plantations, which was soon after retaken by an English ship of war. Two others of his prizes were also recaptured while careening at the Bahama islands by Governor Rogers, of New Providence. They then sailed to the back of Cuba, where Rackham had a settlement, and there spent their plunder in debauchery. As they were fitting out for sea, they were attacked by a Spanish guarda costa that had just captured an English interloper. Rackham being protected by an island, the Spaniards warped into the channel at dusk and waited for day. The pirates, roused to despair, boarded the Spanish prize with pistols and cutlasses in the dead of the night, and, threatening the crew with death if they spoke, captured her almost without a blow, and slipping the cable stood out to sea. When day broke the Spaniards opened a tremendous fire upon the deserted pirate vessel, but soon discovered their mistake. 1720 was spent in small cruises about Jamaica, their crew being still short; they then swept off some fishing boats from Harbour Island, and landing in Hispaniola, carried off some wild cattle and several French hunters. He then captured several more vessels, and was joined by the crew of a sloop in Dry Harbour Bay. But their end was at hand. The governor of Jamaica despatched a sloop in pursuit of them, who found the pirates carousing with a boat's crew from Point Negril, and they were soon overpowered. A fortnight after sentence of death was passed upon nine of them at a court of admiralty held at St. Jago de la Vega. Five of them were executed at Gallows Point in Port Royal, and the four others the day after at Kingston. Rackham and two more were afterwards taken down and hung in chains, one at Plumb Point, one at Busk-key, and the other at Gun-key. By the terrible Draconic laws of Jamaica, the nine boatmen from Port Negril were also hung by their side. After such justice, can we wonder at the crimes to which despair too often drove the pirates? Among these "unfortunate brave," as Prior generously calls them, two female pirates are not to be forgotten. The first of these, Mary Reed, was the daughter of a sailor, whose wife having after his death given birth to an illegitimate girl, palmed it off as a boy, in order to excite the compassion of her husband's mother. Being reduced in circumstances she put the girl out as a foot-boy, but she soon after ran to sea, and entered on board a man-of-war. Quitting the sea service Mary Reed wintered over in Flanders and obtained a cadetship in a regiment of foot, behaving herself in many actions with a great deal of bravery, and finally entering a regiment of horse. Here she fell in love with a comrade, a young Fleming, whom she eventually married, and set up an eating-house at Beda, called "The Three Horse-shoes." Her husband dying, and the peace ruining her trade, Mary went into Holland, and joined a regiment quartered on a frontier town, but, finding preferment slow, she shipped herself on board a vessel bound for the West Indies. The vessel was taken by English pirates, and the amazon, being the only English sailor, was detained. A pardon soon afterwards being issued, the crew surrendered themselves, but Mary Reed sailed for New Providence, and joined a privateer squadron fitting out there against the Spaniards. The crews, who were pardoned pirates, soon rose against their commander, and resumed their old trade, and Mary Reed among them. Abhorring the life of a pirate, she still was the first to board, and was as resolute as the bravest. By chance Anne Bonny, another disguised woman, being with the crew, discovered her sex, and soon after she fell in love with a sailor whom they took prisoner, and was eventually married to him. Her husband hated his new profession as much as herself, and they were about to quit it when they were both taken prisoners. On one occasion Mary Reed, to prevent her husband fighting a duel, challenged his opponent to meet her on a sand island near which their ship lay, with sword and pistol, and killed him on the spot. At the trial she declared that her life had been always pure, and that she had never intended to remain a pirate. When they were taken, only she and Anne Bonny kept the deck, calling to those in the hold to come up and fight like men, and when they refused firing at them, killing one and wounding several. In prison she said the fear of hanging had never driven her from piracy, for but for the dread of that there would be so many pirates that the trade would not be worth following. Great compassion was evinced for her in the court, but she was still found guilty, though being near her pregnancy, her execution was respited. She might have been pardoned, but a violent fever coming on soon after her trial she died in prison. Her companion, Anne Bonny, was the illegitimate daughter of a Cork attorney. Her father, disguising the child as a boy, pretended it was a relative's son, and bred it up for a clerk. Becoming ruined he emigrated to Carolina, and turning merchant bought a plantation. Upon her mother's death Anne Bonny succeeded to the housekeeping. She was of a fierce and ungovernable temper, and was reported to have stabbed an English servant with a case-knife. Marrying a penniless sailor, her father turned her out of doors, and she and her husband fled to New Providence, where he turned pirate. Here she was seduced by Captain Rackham, and ran with him to sea, dressed as a sailor, and accompanied him in many voyages. The day that Rackham was executed she was admitted to see him by special favour, but she only taunted him and said that she was sorry to see him there, but that if he had fought like a man he would not have been hung like a dog. Becoming pregnant in prison she was reprieved, and, we believe, finally pardoned. Captain HOWEL DAVIS, our next sea king, was a native of Milford, who, being taken prisoner by England, was appointed captain of the vessel of which he had been chief mate. At first, he declared he would rather be shot than turn pirate, but eventually accepted sealed orders from England, to be opened at a certain latitude. On opening them, he found they directed him to make the ship his own, and go and trade at Brazil. The crew, refusing to obey Davis, steered for Barbadoes, and put him in prison, but he was soon discharged. Starting for New Providence, the pirates' nest, he found the island had just surrendered to Captain Woods Rogers. He here joined the ships fitting out for the Spanish trade, and at Martinique joined in a conspiracy, secured the masters, and started on a cruise against all the world. At a council of war, held over a bowl of punch, Davis was unanimously elected commander, and the articles he drew up were signed by all the crew. They then sailed to Coxon's-hole, at the east end of Cuba, to clean, that being a narrow creek, where one ship could defend itself against a hundred, and, having no carpenter, they found some difficulty in careening. On the north side of Hispaniola, they fell in with a French ship of twelve guns, which they took, and sent twelve men on board to plunder, being now very short of provisions. They had scarcely leaped on deck before another French vessel of twenty-four guns and sixty men hove in sight. This vessel Davis proposed to attack, quite contrary to the wish of his crew, who were afraid of her size. When Davis approached, the Frenchmen bade him strike, but giving them a broadside, he said he should keep them in play till his consort arrived, when they should have but hard quarters. At this moment came up all the prisoners, having been dressed in white shirts, and forced on deck, and a dirty tarpaulin was hoisted for a black flag. The French captain, intimidated, instantly struck, and was at once, with ten of his hands, put in irons. The guns, small arms, and powder in the small ship were then removed, and the prize crew sent on board the larger vessel. Part of the prisoners were put in the smaller and now defenceless bark. At the end of two days, finding the French prize a dull sailer, Davis restored her to the captain, minus her ammunition and cargo. The Frenchman, vexed at being so outwitted, would have destroyed himself had not his men prevented him. Davis then visited the Cape de Verd islands, and left some of his men as settlers among the Portuguese. They also plundered many vessels at the Isle of May, obtained many fresh hands, and fitted one of their prizes with twenty-six guns, and called her the _King James_. At St. Jago the governor accused them of being pirates, and Davis resolved to resent the affront by surprising the fort by night. Going on shore well armed, they found the guard negligent, and took the place, losing only three men. The fugitives barricaded themselves in the governor's house, into which the pirates threw grenades. By daybreak the whole country was alarmed, and poured down upon them, but they, unwilling to stand a siege, dismounted the fort guns and fought their way to their ships. Mustering their hands, and finding themselves still seventy strong, they proposed to follow Davis's advice, and attack Gambia castle, where a great deal of money was always kept, for they had now such an opinion of Davis's courage and prudence that they would have followed him anywhere. Having come within sight of the place, he ordered all his men below but such as were absolutely necessary for the working of the vessel, that the people on shore might take her for a trader. He then ran close under the fort, anchored, and ordering out the boat, manned her with six plain-dressed men, himself as the master, and the rest attired as merchants. The men were instructed what to say. At the landing-place they were received by a file of musqueteers, and led to the governor, who received them civilly. They said they were from Liverpool, bound to the river of Senegal to trade for gums and ivory, but being chased to Gambia by two French men-of-war, were willing to trade for slaves; their cargo, they said, being all iron and plate. The governor, promising them slaves, asked for a hamper of European liquor, and invited them to stay and dine. Davis himself refused to stay, but left his two companions. On leaving he observed there was a sentry at the entrance, and a guard-house near, with the arms of the soldiers on duty thrown in one corner. Going on board he assured his men of success, desired them to keep sober, and when the castle flag struck to send twenty hands immediately ashore. He then seized a sloop that lay near, for fear the crew should discern their preparations. He put two pairs of loaded pistols in his pocket, and made all his crew do the same, bidding them get into conversation with the guard, and when he fired a pistol through the governor's window, leap up and secure the piled arms. While dinner was getting ready, the governor began to brew a bowl of punch, when Davis, at a whisper of the coxswain who had been reconnoitring the house, suddenly drew out a pistol, and, clapping it to the governor's breast, bade him surrender the fort and all his riches, or he was a dead man. The governor, taken by surprise, promised to be passive. They then shut the door, and loaded the arms in the hall, while Davis fired his piece through the window. The men, hearing this signal, cocked their pistols, got between the soldiers and the arms, and carried them off, locking up the men in the guard-room, and guarding it without. Then striking the flag, the rest of the crew tumbled on shore, and the fort was their own without the loss of a man. Davis at once harangued the soldiers, and persuaded many to join him, and those who resisted he sent on board the sloop, which he first unrigged. The rest of the day they spent in salutes--ship to castle and castle to ship, and the next day plundered. Much money had been lately sent away, so they found only £2,000 in bar gold, and many rich effects. They then dismounted the guns, and demolished the fortifications. A French pirate of 14 guns, and sixty-four men, half French, half negroes, soon joined Davis, and they sailed down the coast together. They soon after met another pirate ship, of 24 guns, and spent several days in carousing. They then attacked in company the fort of Sierra Leone, and the garrison, after a stiff cannonade, surrendered the place and fled. Here they spent seven weeks careening; and, capturing a galley, La Bouce, the second captain, cut her half deck, and mounted her with 24 guns. They now sailed together, and appointed Davis commodore, but, like men of a trade, soon quarrelled, and parted company. Off Cape Apollonia Davis took several vessels, and off Cape Points Bay attacked a Dutch interloper, of 30 guns, and ninety men. After many hours' fighting the Dutchman surrendered to the black flag, having killed nine of Davis's men at one broadside. This vessel Davis called the _Rover_, fitted with 32 guns and 27 swivels, and, sailing to Anamaboe, captured several ships laden with ivory, gold dust, and negroes, saluting the fort, and then started for Prince's island, a Portuguese settlement near the same coast. They here captured a Dutchman, a valuable prize, having the governor of Acra and £150,000, besides merchandise, on board, and recruited their force with thirty-five hands. The _King James_ springing a leak, they deserted her and left her to sink. At the isle of Princes Davis passed himself off for an English man-of-war in search of pirates, and was received with great honours by the governor, who approved of his openly plundering a French vessel which he accused of piracy. A few days after Davis and fourteen of his men attempted to carry off the chief men's wives from a small village in which they lived, but failed in the attempt. But Davis had determined to plunder the island by means of the following stratagem. He resolved to present the governor with a dozen negroes in return for his civilities, and afterwards to invite him with the friars and chief men of the island to an entertainment on board his ship. He would then clap them in irons, and not release them under a ransom of £40,000. This plot proved fatal to him. A Portuguese negro, swimming ashore at night, disclosed the whole. The governor dissembled and professed to fall into the snare. The next day Davis went himself on shore to bring the governor on board, and was invited to take some refreshment at the government house. He fell at once into the trap. A prepared ambuscade rose and fired a volley, killing every pirate but one, who, running to the boat, got safely to the ship. Davis, though shot through the bowels, rose, made a faint effort to run, drew out his pistols, fired at his pursuers, and fell dead. Upon Davis's death, Bartholomew Roberts was at once chosen commander, in preference to many other of the _lords_ or head seamen. The sailors said, that any captain who went beyond their laws should be deposed, but that they must have a man of courage and a good seaman to defend their commonwealth. One of the lords, whose father had suffered in Monmouth's rebellion, swore Roberts was a Papist. In spite of all, Roberts, who had been only taken prisoner six weeks before, was chosen commander. He told them that, "since he had dipped his hands in muddy water, and must needs be a pirate, he would rather be commander than mere seaman." Their first thought was to avenge Davis's death, for he had been much beloved for his affability and good nature. Thirty men were landed, and attacked the fort in spite of the steep hill on which it was situated. The Portuguese deserted the walls, and the pirates destroyed the guns. Still unsatisfied, they would have burnt the town, had it not been protected by a thick wood, which furnished a cover to the enemy. They, however, mounted the French ship with twelve guns, running into shoal water, battered down several houses, and then sailed out of the harbour by the light of two ships to which they set fire. Having taken two more vessels and burnt one of them, they started by general consent for Brazil. Cruising here for nine weeks and taking no prize, the pirates grew quite discouraged, and resolved to steer for the West Indies, but soon after fell in with forty-two sail of Portuguese ships laden for Lisbon, and lying off the bay of los Todos Santos, waiting for two men-of-war of seventy guns each for their convoy. Stealing amongst them, Roberts hid his men till he had closed upon the deepest of them, threatening to give no quarter if the master was not instantly sent on board. The Portuguese, alarmed at the sudden flourish of cutlasses, instantly came. Roberts told him they were gentlemen of fortune, and should put him to death if he did not tell them which was the richest vessel of the fleet. The trembler pointed out a ship of forty guns and 150 men, more force than Roberts could command; but Roberts, replying "They are only Portuguese," bore down at once upon it. Finding the enemy was aware of their being pirates, Roberts poured in a broadside, grappled, and boarded. The dispute was short and warm. Two of the pirates fell, and many of the Portuguese. By this time it was pretty well seen that a fox had got into the poultry-yard. Signals of top-gallant sheets were flying, and guns fired to bring up the convoy that still rode at anchor. Roberts, finding his prize sail heavy, waited for the first man-of-war, which, basely declining the duel, lingered for its consort till Roberts was out of sight. The prize proved exceedingly rich, being laden with sugar, skins, tobacco, and 4000 moidors, besides many gold chains and much jewellery. A diamond cross, which formed part of this spoil, they afterwards gave to the governor of Caiana. Elated with this spoil, they fixed on the Devil's Islands, in the Surinam river, as a place for a revel, and, arriving there, found the governor ready to barter. Much in want of provision, Roberts threw himself, with forty men, into a prize sloop, in hopes of capturing a brigantine laden with provision from Rhode Island, which was then in sight, and was kept at sea by contrary winds for eight days. Their food ran short, and failing in securing the prize, they despatched their only boat to bring up the ship. Landing at Dominica, Roberts took on board thirteen Englishmen, the crews of two New England vessels that had been seized by a French guarda costa. At this island they were nearly captured by a Martinique sloop, but contrived to escape to the Guadanillas. Sailing for Newfoundland they entered the harbour with their black colours flying, their drums beating, and trumpets sounding. The crews of twenty-two vessels fled on shore at their approach, and they proceeded to burn and sink all the shipping and destroy the fisheries and the houses of the planters. Mounting a Bristol galley that he found in the harbour with sixteen guns, Roberts destroyed nine sail of French ships, and carried off for his own use a vessel of twenty-six guns. From many other prizes they pressed men and got plunder. The passengers on board the _Samuel_, a rich London vessel, he tortured, threatening them with death if they did not disclose their money. His men tore up the hatches, and, entering the hold with axes and swords, cut and ripped open the bales and boxes. Everything portable they seized, the rest they threw overboard, amidst curses and discharges of guns and pistols. They carried off £9000 worth of goods, the sails, guns, and powder. They told the captain "They should accept of no act of grace. The king might be d---- with their act of grace for them: they weren't going to Hope Point to be hung up sun-drying like Kidd's and Braddish's company were; and if they were overpowered they would set fire to the powder, and _go all merrily to hell together_." While debating whether to sink or burn the prize, they espied a sail, and left the _Samuel_ tumultuously to give chase. It proved to be a Bristol vessel, and hating Bristol men because the Martinique sloops were commanded by one, he used him with barbarous cruelty. Their provisions growing scarce, Roberts put into St. Christopher's, and, being refused succours, fired on the town and burnt two ships in the road. They then visited St. Bartholomew, where they were well received. Sailing for Guinea, weary of even debauchery, they captured a rich laden vessel from Martinique, and changed ships. By some extraordinary ignorance of navigation, Roberts, in trying to reach the Cape Verd islands, got to leeward of his port, and, obliged to go back again with the trade wind, returned to the West Indies, steering for Surinam, 700 leagues distant, with one hogshead of water for 124 souls. Great suffering followed their pleasures in the islands of the Sirens; each man obtained only one mouthful of water in twenty-four hours. Many drank their urine or the brine and died fevered and mad; others wasted with fluxes. The rest had but an inch or two of bread in the day, and grew so feeble they could hardly reef and climb. They were all but dying, when they were suddenly brought into soundings, and at night anchored in seven fathoms water. Thirsty in the sight of lakes and streams, and maddened with hunger, Roberts tore up the floor of the cabin, and, patching together a canoe with rope yarn, paddled to shore and procured water. After some days, the boat returned with the unpleasant intelligence that the lieutenant had absconded with the vessel. This Lieutenant Kennedy's sail into Execution Dock we will give before we return to Roberts. Upon leaving Caiana Roberts's treacherous crew determined to abandon piracy. Their Portuguese prize they gave to the master of the prize sloop, a good-natured man, whose quiet philosophy under misfortune had astonished and pleased them. Off Barbadoes Kennedy took a Quaker's vessel from Virginia, the captain of which allowed no arms on board, and his equanimity so attracted the pirates that eight of them returned with him to Virginia. These men rewarded the sailors and gave £250 worth of gold dust and tobacco to the peaceful captain. At Maryland the treacherous Quaker surrendered his friends, who were all hung on the evidence of some Portuguese Jews whom they had brought from Brazil. Off Jamaica Kennedy captured a flour vessel from Boston, in which himself and many others embarked. This Kennedy had been a pickpocket and a housebreaker, could neither read nor write, and had been only elected captain for his cruelty and courage. His crew, at first afraid of his treachery, would have thrown him overboard, but relented, on his taking solemn oaths of fidelity. Of all these men only one knew anything of navigation, and he was so ignorant that, trying to reach Ireland, he ran them ashore on Scotland. Landing they passed at first for shipwrecked sailors; seven of them reached London in safety, the rest were seized at Edinburgh and hung, having attracted attention by rioting and drunken squandering. Two others were murdered on the road. Kennedy turned robber, and some years after was arrested as a pirate by the mate of a ship he had plundered, turned king's evidence, but was hung in 1721. We must now return to Roberts, whom we left swearing and vapouring on the coast of Newfoundland. He began by drawing up a code of laws and establishing stricter discipline, and then steered for the West Indies, capturing several vessels by the way, and was soon after pursued by a Bristol galley of twenty guns and eighty men, and a sloop of ten guns and forty men, despatched by the Governor of Barbadoes. Roberts, taking them for traders, attempted to board, but was driven off by a broadside, the king's men huzzaing as they fired. Roberts, crowding all sail, took to flight and escaped, after a galling pursuit, by dint of throwing overboard his guns and heavy goods. He was henceforward particularly severe to Barbadian vessels, so deeply established were the principles of justice and compensation in the mind of this great man. In the morning, they saw land, but at a great distance, and dispatching a boat, it returned late at night with a load of water: they had reached Surinam. The worst blasphemer heard the words, and fell upon his knees to thank a God whom he had so often denied. They swore that the same Providence which had given them drink would bring them meat. Taking provisions from several vessels, Roberts touched at Tobago, and then sailed to Martinique to revenge himself on the governor. Adopting the custom of the Dutch interlopers, he hoisted a jack and sailed in as if to trade. He was soon surrounded by a swarm of sloops and smacks; then sending all the crews on shore on board one vessel, minus their money, he fired twenty others. His new flag bore henceforward a representation of himself trampling on the skulls of a Barbadian and Martinique man. At Dominica he took several vessels, and several others at Guadaloupe, and then put into a key off Hispaniola to clean and refit. While here, the captains of two piratical sloops visited him, having heard of his fame and achievements, to beg from him powder and arms. After several nights' revel, Roberts dismissed them, hoping "the Lord would prosper their handy works." Three of their men, who had long excited suspicion by their reserve and sobriety, deserted, but being recaptured were put upon their trial. The jury sat in the steerage, before a bowl of rum punch; the judge on the bench smoked a pipe. Sentence was already passed, when one of the jury, with a volley of oaths, swore Glashby (one of the prisoners) should not die. "He was as good a man as the best of them, and had never turned his back to a man in his life. Glashby was an honest fellow in spite of his misfortune, and he loved him. He hoped he would live and repent of what he had done; but d---- if he must die, he would die along with him," and as he spoke he handled a pair of loaded pistols, and presented them at two of the judges, who, thinking the argument good, at once acquitted Glashby. The rest, allowed to choose their executioners, were tied to the mast and shot. Amply stocked with provision, they now sailed for Guinea to buy gold dust, and on their passage burnt and sank many vessels. Roberts, finding his crew mutinous and unmanageable, assumed a rude bearing, offering to fight on shore any one who was offended, with sword or pistol, for he neither feared nor valued any. On their way to Africa they were deserted by a prize, a brigantine, which they had manned. Roberts being insulted by a drunken sailor, killed him on the spot. His messmate returning from shore declared the captain deserved the same fate. Roberts hearing this stabbed him with his sword, but in spite of the wound the seaman threw him over a gun and gave him a beating. A general tumult ensued, which was appeased by the quartermaster, and the majority agreeing that the captain must be supported at all risks, the sailor received two lashes from every man on board as soon as he recovered from his wound. This man then conspired with the captain of the brigantine and his seventy hands, and agreed to desert Roberts, as they soon after did on the first opportunity. Near the river of Senegal the pirates were chased by two French cruisers of ten and sixteen guns, who mistook him for one of those interlopers for whom they were on the look-out. The pair surrendered, however, with little resistance on the first shot of the _Jolly Roger_, and with these prizes they put into Sierra Leone. About thirty retired Buccaneers and pirates lived here, one of whom, who went by the name of Crackers, kept two cannon at his door to salute all pirate ships that arrived. They found that the _Swallow_ and _Weymouth_ men-of-war, fifty guns, had just been there, and would not return till Christmas; so, after six weeks' debauch, they put out again to sea, plundering along the coast. They exchanged one of their vessels for a French frigate-built ship, pressing the sailors, and allowing some soldiers on board to sail with them for a quarter share. They found an English chaplain on board, and wanted him to go with them to make punch and say prayers, but as he refused they let him go, detaining nothing of the property of the church but three prayer-books and a corkscrew. This ship they altered by pulling down the bulkheads and making her flush. They then christened her the _Royal Fortune_, and mounted her with forty guns. They next proceeded to Calabar, where a shoal protected the harbour. Enraged at the negroes refusing to trade, they landed forty men under protection of the ships' fire, drove back a party of 2000 natives, and then burnt their town. Still unable to obtain provisions, they returned to Cape Apollonia. Here they took a vessel called the _King Solomon_, boarding her from the long boat in spite of a volley from the ship, the pirates shouting defiance. The captain would have resisted, but the boatswain made the men lay down their arms and cry for quarter. They then cut her cable, and rifled her of everything. They next cut the mast of a Dutch vessel, and strung the sausages they found on board round their necks, killing the fowls, and inviting the captain to drink from his own but, singing obscene French and Spanish songs from his Dutch prayer-book. Going too near the land they alarmed the coast, and the English and Dutch factories spread signals of danger. Entering Whydah with St. George's ensign and a black flag flying, eleven ships instantly surrendered without a blow; most of the crews being, in fact, ashore. Each captain ransomed his cargo for 8 lbs. of gold dust, upon which they gave him acquittals, signed with sham names, as "Whiffingpin" and "Tugmutton." One vessel full of slaves refusing to give any ransom, he set fire to it, and burnt eighty negroes who were chained in the hold; a few leaped overboard to avoid the flames, and were torn to pieces by the sharks that swarmed in the road. Discovering from an intercepted letter that the _Swallow_ was after him, Roberts put back to the island of Anna Bona, but the wind failing steered for Cape Lopez. The cruiser had lost 100 men from sickness in a three weeks' stay at Prince's island, and, unable to return to Sierra Leone, turned to Cape Corso, unknown to Roberts, who was ignorant of the causes that had led to their return. Receiving many calls for help, and finding the trade of the whole coast disturbed, the _Swallow_ sailed for Whydah. The crew were impatient to attack the pirates, learning that they had an arms' chest full of gold, secured by three keys. Recruiting thirty volunteers, English and French, the _Swallow_ reached the river Gaboon, and soon discovered the pirates, one of whom gave them chase, believing her a Portuguese sugar vessel, and the sugar for their punch now ran short. The pirates were cursing the wind and the sails that kept them from so rich a prey, when the _Ranger_ suddenly brought to and hauled up her lower ports, while the first broadside brought down their black flag. Hoisting it again, they flourished their cutlasses on the poop, but tried to escape. Some prepared to board, but, after two hours' firing, their maintop came down with a run, and they struck, having had ten men killed and twenty wounded. The _Swallow_ did not lose one. The _Ranger_ carried thirty-two guns, and was manned by sixteen Frenchmen, seventy-seven English, and ten negroes. Their black colours were thrown overboard. As the _Swallow_ was sending a boat to board, an explosion was heard, and a smoke poured out of the great cabin. It appeared that half a dozen of the most desperate had fired some powder, but it was too little to do anything but burn them terribly. The commander, a Welshman, had had his leg shot off, and had refused to allow himself to be carried below. The rest were gay and brisk, dressed in white shirts and silk waistcoats, and wearing watches. An officer said to a man whom he saw with a silver whistle at his belt--"I presume you are boatswain of this ship." "Then you presume wrong," said the pirate, "for I am boatswain of the _Royal Fortune_--Captain Roberts, commander." "Then, Mr. Boatswain, you'll be hanged," said the officer. "That is as your Honour pleases," said the man, turning away. The officer asking about the explosion, he swore "they are all mad and bewitched, for I have lost a good hat by it." He had been blown out of the cabin gallery into the sea. "But what signifies a hat, friend?" said the officer. "Not much," he answered. As the sailors stripped off his shoes and stockings, the officer asked him if all Robert's crew were as likely men as himself? He answered, "There are 120 of them as clever fellows as ever trod shoe-leather; would I were with them." "No doubt on't," said the officer. "It's naked truth," said the man laughing, as he looked down at his bare feet. The officer then approached another man, black and scorched, who sat sullenly alone in a corner. He asked him how it happened. "Why," said he, "John Morris fired a pistol into the powder, and if he had not done it I would." The officer said he was a surgeon, and offered to dress his wounds, which he bore without a groan. He swore it should not be done and he would tear off the dressing, so he was then overpowered and bandaged. At night he grew delirious and raved about "brave Roberts," who would soon release him. The men then lashed him down to the forecastle, as he resisted with such violence to his burnt sore flesh that he died next day of mortification. The other pirates they fettered, and sent the shattered ship, scarcely worth preserving, into port. The next day Roberts appeared in sight with a prize, and his men ran to tell him of the cruizer as he was dining in the cabin with the prisoner captain. Roberts declared the vessel was his own returning, or nothing but a Portuguese or French slave ship, and laughed at the cowards who feared danger, offering to strike the most apprehensive. As soon as he discovered his mistake he slipped his cable, got under sail, and ordered his men to arms, declaring it was "a bite." He appeared on deck dressed in crimson damask, with a red feather in his cocked hat, a gold chain and diamond cross round his neck, a sword in his hand, and two pairs of pistols hanging pirate-fashion from a silk sling over his shoulders. His orders were given in a loud voice and with unhesitating boldness. Informed by a deserter that the _Swallow_ sailed best upon a wind, he resolved to go before it, if disabled to run ashore and escape among the negroes, or if, as many of his men were drunk, everything else failed, to board and blow up both vessels. Exchanging a broadside he made all sail he could crowd, but steering ill was taken aback and overtaken. At this critical moment a grapeshot struck him on the throat, and he sat calmly down on the tackle of a gun and died. The man at the helm running to his assistance, and not seeing a wound, thought his heart had failed him, and bade him stand up and fight it out like a man, and remember the _Jolly Roger_. Discovering his mistake the rough sailor burst into tears, and prayed the next shot might strike him. The pirates then threw their captain overboard, with all his arms and ornaments, as he had often requested in his life. When Roberts fell the men deserted their quarters and fell into a torpor, till their mainmast being shot away compelled them to surrender. Some of the crew lit matches and tried to blow up the magazine, but the rest prevented them. The black flag, crushed under the fallen mast, they had no time to destroy. The _Royal Fortune_ was found to have forty guns and 157 men, forty-five of them being negroes. Only three were killed in the action, and the _Swallow_ did not lose a man. She had upwards of £2000 of gold dust in her. From the other vessel the same quantity was embezzled by an English captain, who sailed away before the _Swallow_ arrived. The prisoners were mutinous under restraint, and cursed and upbraided each other for the folly that had brought them into that trap. For fear of an outbreak they were manacled and shackled in the gun-room, which was strongly barricaded, and officers with pistol and cutlass placed to guard it night and day. The pirates laughed at the short commons, and swore they should be too light to hang. Those who read and prayed were sneered at by the others. "Give me hell," said one blasphemer; "it is a merrier place than heaven, and at my entrance I'll give Roberts a salute of thirteen guns." The whole of the prisoners made a formal complaint against "the wretch with a prayer-book," as a common disturber. A few of the more violent conspired, having loosened their shackles, to rise, kill the officers, and run away with the ship. A mulatto boy who attended them, conveyed messages from one to the other, but the very evening of the outbreak two prisoners heard the whispers, and warned the officers. They were then treated rougher, and heavier chains put on. The negroes and surgeon on board the other ship also contrived a conspiracy, the surgeon knowing a little of the Ashantee language. They were betrayed by a traitor, all re-chained, and brought to Cape Corso castle to be tried. Here they grew chapfallen, forgot to jest, and begged for good books. Some joined in prayers, and others sang psalms. Brawny, sunburnt, scarred men were seen spelling out hymns, and, through the blood-red haze of a thousand crimes, trying with moistened eyes to look back to calm Sunday evenings when fond mothers had first taught them the words of long since forgotten prayers. When the ropes were fitting only one appeared dejected, and he had been ill with a flux. A surgeon of the place was charitable enough to offer himself as chaplain, and represented to them the urgent need of repentance and the tender forgiveness of a Saviour. They hardly listened to him, but some begged caps of the soldiers, for the sun was burning on their bare heads. Others asked for a single draught of water. When they were pressed to speak of religion, they burst into curses, and imprecated vengeance on their judge and jury, saying they were hung as poor rogues, but many worse escaped because they were rich. He then implored them to be in charity with all the world, and asked their names and ages. They said, "What is that to you? we suffer the law, and shall give no account but to God." One cursed a woman in the crowd for coming to see him hung, and another laughed at their tying his hands behind him, "for he had seen many a good fellow hung, but never that done before." A third said, the sooner the better, so he might get out of pain. Nine others showed much penitence. One obtained a short reprieve, and devoted it to prayer, singing the thirty-first Psalm at the foot of the gallows. Another (the deserter) exhorted the seamen to a good life, and sang a psalm. The next instant a gun was fired, and he swung from the fore-yard-arm. Bunce, the youngest of them all, made a pathetic speech, and begged forgiveness of God and all mankind. Seeing the gallows standing on a rock above the sea, he took a last look at the element which he had so often braved, and saying, he stood "as a beacon on a rock to warn mariners of danger," was turned off by the hangman. CAPTAIN WORLY, the next adventurer, embarked in an open boat, with eight other men, from New York in 1718, captured a shallop up the Delaware river, and soon took many other vessels, pursuing an English cruiser from Sandy Hook. He had now twenty-five men and six guns, and his crew had taken an oath to receive no quarter. While careening in an inlet in North Carolina he was attacked by two government sloops. These cruisers boarded him on either side, and the pirates fought so desperately that only the captain and another man were taken prisoners, and being much wounded were hung the next day for fear they should die, and the law not have its due. Captain GEORGE LOWTHER was originally second mate on board a vessel carrying soldiers to a fort of the Royal African Company's on the river Gambia, the very one that had been destroyed by Davis. Captain Massey, who commanded these men, offended at the arrogance of the merchants, plotted with Lowther, who had been ill-treated by his captain, to run away with the vessel. They then started as pirates--their vessel, the _Delivery_, having fifty men and sixteen guns. The worthy partners soon quarrelled, Massey knowing nothing of the sea and Lowther nothing of the land. Massey wished to land with thirty men and attack the French in Hispaniola, but Lowther refused his consent; and when Lowther resolved to scuttle a ship, Massey interposed in its behalf. Massey, soon after this, being put on board a prize with ten malcontents, gave himself up at Jamaica, and was sent to cruise in search of his old partner. Massey wrote to the African Company, and prayed to be forgiven, or at least shot as a soldier, and not hung as a pirate. He then came to London, gave himself up, and was soon after hung. Off Hispaniola Lowther captured two vessels--one of them a Spaniard, the crew of which, in consideration of their being also pirates, and having just boarded an English ship, were drifted off in their own launch, but the English sailors were enrolled in their own crew. They then put into a key, cleaned, and spent some time in revelry. Starting again about Christmas, at the Grand Caimanes they met with a small pirate vessel, commanded by a captain named Low, who now became Lowther's lieutenant. The old ship they sank, and soon after attacked a Boston vessel, the _Greyhound_, which, though only 200 tons, refused to bring to in answer to Lowther's gun, and held out for an hour before she struck her ensign, seeing resistance hopeless. The pirates whipped, beat, and cut these men cruelly, and at last set fire to their vessel, and left them to burn and perish. They soon after burnt and sank several New England sloops; a vessel of Jamaica they generously sent back to her master, and two other vessels they fitted up for their own use, mounting one with eight carriage and ten swivel guns. With this little fleet, Admiral Lowther, in the _Happy Delivery_, went to the gulf of Matique to careen, carrying ashore all their sails and stores, and putting them in tents on the beach. While the ships, however, were on the keel, and the men busy heaving, scrubbing, and tallowing, they were attacked by a large body of the natives. Burning the _Happy Delivery_, their largest ship, and leaving all their stores behind, they then turned one sloop adrift, and all embarked in the other, the _Ranger_. This disaster, and the shortness of provisions, soon produced mutiny and mutual recrimination. In May 1721 they went to the West Indies, capturing a brigantine, which they plundered and sank, and then started for New England. Low and Lowther always quarrelling, at last parted, Low taking forty-four hands in the brigantine, and leaving the same number in the sloop to Lowther. The latter for some time captured nothing but fishing vessels, and a New England ship with a cargo of sugar from Barbadoes. Off the coast of South Carolina, being pursued by an English vessel that he had imprudently attacked, he was driven on shore in his attempts to escape. The English captain, in attempting to board, was shot, and his mate declined the combat. The pirate sloop soon put again to sea, but much shattered, and with many of the crew killed and wounded. The winter Low spent in repairing, in an inlet of North Carolina, where his men pitched tents, and lived on the wild cattle they shot in the woods, while in very cold nights they slept on board the ship. After a cruise round Newfoundland the pirates sailed for the West Indies, and put into a creek in the island of Blanco, not far from Tortuga, to careen. Here they were attacked by the _Eagle_ sloop of Barbadoes, belonging to the South Sea Company. She fired a gun first to make Lowther show his colours, and then boarded. Lowther and twelve of his crew made their escape out of a cabin window after their vessel had struck. The master of the _Eagle_, with twenty-five men, spent five days in search of the fugitives, and, capturing eight only of them, returned to Cumana. The Spanish governor applauding the _Eagle_ condemned the sloop, and sent a small vessel with twenty-five hands to scour the patches of _lignum vitæ_ trees that covered the low level island, and took four pirates, but Lowther and three men and a boy still escaped. It is supposed he then destroyed himself, as he was found soon after by some sailors dead, beside a bush, with a burst pistol by his side. Of his companions nine were hung at St. Christopher's, two pardoned, and five acquitted; four the Spaniards condemned to slavery for life, three to the galleys, and the others to the Castle of Arraria. Captain Spriggs was another of this same gang, having been quartermaster to Lowther. In 1723 Spriggs, with eighteen men, sailed by night from the coast of Guinea, in the _Delight_ (a man-of-war) taken by Low, for they had quarrelled as to the punishment of a pirate who had murdered another. Low was for mercy and Spriggs for the yard-arm. They then chose Spriggs captain, hoisted the black flag, and fired all their guns to honour his inauguration. In their voyage to the West Indies they plundered a Portuguese bark, tortured the crew, set them adrift in a boat with a small quantity of provisions, and then burnt the vessel. The crew of a Barbadoes sloop they cut and beat for refusing to serve with them, and turned them off like the Portuguese. They next rummaged a logwood ship from Jamaica, cut the cable, broke the windows, destroyed the cabins, and when the mate refused to go with them, every man in the vessel gave him ten lashes, which they called "writing his discharge" in red letters flaring on his back. George the Second's birthday they spent in roaring out healths, shouting, and drinking, expecting that there would be an amnesty at his accession, and vowing, if they were excepted, to murder every Englishman they met. They next gave chase to a vessel (supposed to be a Spaniard), till the crew made a lamentable cry for quarter, and they discovered it was the logwood vessel they had turned off three days before, not worth a penny. Enraged at this, fifteen of them flew at the captain and cut him down, though his mate, who had joined the pirates, interceded for his life. It being midnight, and nearly all, as usual at such an hour, drunk, it was unanimously agreed to make a bonfire of the Jamaica ship. They then called the bleeding captain down into the cabin to supper, and made him, with a sword and pistol at his breast, eat a dish of candles, treating all the crew in the same way. Twenty days afterwards they landed the captain and a passenger on a desert island in the Bay of Honduras, giving them powder, ball, and one musket. Here they supported life for fifteen days, till two marooned sailors coming in a canoe paddled them to another island, where they got food and water. Espying a sloop at sea, they made a great smoke and were taken off after nineteen days' more suffering. Spriggs, while laying wait to take his revenge on the _Eagle_, was pursued by a French man-of-war from Martinique, and then went to Newfoundland to obtain more men and attack Captain Harris, who had lately taken another pirate vessel. Of their future fate we hear nothing. Let us hope they sailed on till they reached Gallows Point and there anchored. JOHN GOW was one of the crew of an Amsterdam galley, who in 1724, in a voyage to Barbary, plotted to murder the captain and seize the vessel. Having first cut his throat they tried to throw him overboard, but as he grappled with them Gow and the second mate and gunner shot him through the body. They then murdered the chief mate and the clerk, who was asleep in his hammock; the latter, handing the key of his chest, begged for time to say his prayers, but a sailor shot him as he knelt, with a pistol that burst as he fired. The murders being over, one of the red-handed men came on deck, and, striking a gun with his cutlass, cried "You are welcome, Captain Gow, to your new command." Gow then swore that if any whispered together or refused to obey orders, they should go the same way as those that had just gone. They plundered a French fruit vessel and some others, but were soon after stranded on the Orkney coast, where they had intended to clean, were apprehended by a gentleman named Fea, and brought up to London. Gow obstinately refusing to plead, his thumbs were tied with whipcord till they broke. As he still remained silent he was ordered by the Draconic law of those days to be pressed to death. When the preparations were completed Gow's courage failed him, he sullenly pleaded not guilty, and was soon after, with nine of his crew at the same time, executed. Captain WEAVER, of the _Good Fortune_, brigantine, which had taken some sixty sail off the banks of Newfoundland, on his return from thence came to Bristol, and passed himself off as a sailor who had escaped from pirates, walking openly about the town. Here he was met by a captain whom he had once plundered, and who invited him to share a bottle in a neighbouring tavern, telling him he had been a great sufferer by the loss of his ship, but that for four hogsheads of sugar he would never mention the affair again. Unable to obtain this compensation he arrested Weaver, who was soon after hung. Captain EDWARD LOW, our last commodore, was originally a London thief, the head of a gang of Westminster boys, and a gambler among the footmen in the lobby of the House of Commons. One of his brothers was the first thief who stole wigs by dressing as a porter, and carrying a boy on his head in a covered basket. He ended his days at Tyburn. Low was originally a logwood cutter at Honduras, but quarrelling with his captain, and attempting his life, put off to sea with twelve companions, and taking a sloop, hoisted a black flag, and declared war against the world. Of his adventures with Lowther we have already made mention. In May, 1722, while off Rhode Island, the governor ordered a drum to beat up for volunteers, and fitted out two sloops with 140 men to pursue him, but Low contrived to escape, and soon after running into Port Rosemary, seized thirteen vessels at one stroke, arming a schooner of ten guns for his own use, putting eighty men on board, and calling her the _Fancy_. He was soon after beaten off by two armed sloops from Boston. Low waiting too long for his consort, a brigantine, to come up, in steering for the Leeward Islands, they were overtaken by a dreadful storm, the same which drowned 400 people at Jamaica, and nearly destroyed the town of Port Royal. The pirates escaped by dint of throwing over all their plunder and six of their guns, and put into one of the Caribbees to refit, buying provisions of the natives. In this storm it was that forty sail of ships were cast away in Port Royal harbour. Once refitted, Low sailed into St. Michael's road, and took seven sail, threatening with present death all who dared to resist. Being without water, he sent to the governor demanding some, and declaring that if none were sent he would burn all his prizes. On the governor's compliance he released six, and fitted up the seventh for himself. Another one they burnt. The crews they compelled to join them, all but one French cook, who was so fat that they said he would fry well. They then bound him to the mast, and allowed him to burn with the ship. The crew of another galley they cruelly cut and mangled, and two Portuguese friars they tied up to the yard-arm, pulling them up and down till they were dead. A Portuguese passenger looking sorrowfully on at these brutalities, one of the pirates cried out that he did not like his looks, and cut open his belly with his cutlass, so that he fell down dead. Another of the men, cutting at a prisoner, slashed Low across the upper lip, so as to lay the teeth bare. The surgeon was called to stitch up the wound, but the medical man being drunk, Low cursed him for his bungling. He replied by striking Low a blow in the mouth that broke the stitches, telling him to sew up his chops himself. Off Madeira, they seized a fishing boat, and obtained water by a threat of hanging the fishermen. While careening at the Cape Verd Islands, after making many prizes, Low sent a sloop to St. Michael's in search of two vessels, but his crew were seized and condemned to slavery for life. In careening his other ship, it was lost, and Low had now to fall back on his old schooner, the _Fancy_, which he sailed in with a hundred men. Proceeding to the West Indies, they captured, after some resistance, a rich Portuguese vessel called the _Nostra Signora de Victoria_, bound home from Bahia. Several of the crew they tortured till they confessed that during the chase their captain had hung a bag of 11,000 moidors out of the cabin window, and when the ship was taken dropped it into the sea. The pirates, in a fury at this, cut off his lips, broiled them before his face, and then murdered him and thirty-two of his crew. In the next month they seized four vessels, burning all those from New England. In the Bay of Honduras Low boarded a Spanish sloop of six guns and seventy men, that had that morning captured five English vessels. Finding out this from the prisoners in the hold, these butchers proceeded to destroy the whole crew, plunging among them with pole-axes, swords, and pistols. Some leaped into the hold and others into the sea. Twelve escaped to shore: the rest were knocked on the head in the water. While the pirates were carousing on land, one wounded wretch, fainting with his wounds, came to them and begged in God's name for quarter, upon which a brutal sailor replied, he would give him good quarters, and, forcing him down on his knees, ran the muzzle of his gun down his throat, and shot him. They then burnt the vessel, and forced the English prisoners to return to New York, and not to Jamaica. Hating all men of New England, Low cut off the ears of a gentleman of that nation, and tied burning matches between the fingers of some other prisoners. The crew of a whaler he whipped naked about the deck, and made the master eat his own ears with pepper and salt. On one occasion, the captain of a Virginian vessel refusing to pledge him in a bowl of punch, he cocked a pistol and compelled him to drain the whole quart. Off South Carolina, his consort was taken by a cruiser, but Low basely deserting him, escaped, and off Newfoundland took eighteen ships, and in July, 1723, he fitted up a prize called the _Merry Christmas_, with thirty-four guns, and assumed the title of admiral, hoisting a black flag, with the figure of death in red. At St. Michael he cut out of the road a London vessel of fourteen guns, which the men refused to defend. The ears of the captain Low cut off, for daring to attempt resistance, and giving him a boat to escape in, burnt his ship. He then visited the Canaries, Cape de Verd Islands, and lastly, the coast of Guinea. At Sierra Leone he captured the _Delight_, of twelve guns, which he supplied with sixteen guns, and sixty men, appointing Spriggs, his quartermaster, as captain, who two days after deserted him, and sailed for the West Indies. Of the end of this detestable monster we know nothing, but if there is any truth in old adages, he could not have well perished by a mere storm. The best account of a pirate's life extant is to be found in Captain Roberts's Narrative of the Loss of his Vessel in 1721, preserved in Astley's amusing Collection of Voyages, four dusty quartos, that contain a mine of "auld warld" information. This Captain Roberts, it appears, contracted with some London merchants to go to Virginia, to fit out a sloop, named the _Dolphin_, with a cargo "to slave with" on the coast of Guinea, and then to return to trade at Barbadoes. Arriving at that island, in 1722, he was discharged, and upon that bought the _Margaret_ sloop, and started again for the African coast. At Curisal he turned up to procure a supply of wood and water, and the next morning after his arrival, it being calm as day broke, he looked out and espied three sail of ships off the bay, and making one of them plain with his glass, observed that she was full built and loaded, and supposed that she and her companions wanted water, as they first brought to, then edged away without making any signals. As soon as the day broke clean and they made his ship, one of them stood right in towards her, and as the sun rose and the wind freshened, tacked more to the eastward. As she drew nigher, Roberts found her by his glass to be a schooner full of hands, all in white shirts; and when he saw a whole tier of great guns grinning through the port-holes, he began to suspect mischief. But it was now too late to escape, as it held calm within the bay, and the three ships came crowding in as fast as the wind, flaunting out an English ensign, jack, and pendant. Roberts then hoisted his ensign. The first of the three that arrived had 8 guns, 6 patereroes, 70 men, and stretching ahead hailed him. Roberts said he was of London, and came from Barbadoes. They answered, with a curse, that they knew that, and made him send a boat on board. The pirate captain, John Lopez, a Portuguese, who passed himself off as John Russel, an Englishman, from the north country, asked them where their captain was. They pointed him out Roberts, walking the deck. He instantly called out, "You dog, you son of a gun, you speckled shirt dog!" for Roberts had just turned out, wore a speckled Holland shirt, and was slipshod, without stockings. Roberts, afraid if he showed contempt by continued silence they would put a ball through him, thought it best to answer, and cried "Holloa!" upon which Russel said, "You dog you, why did you not come aboard with the boat? I'll drub you within an inch of your life, and that inch too." Roberts meekly replied that only the boat being commanded aboard, he did not think he had been wanted, but if they would please to send the boat, he would wait upon him. "Ay, you dog you," said the Portuguese, "I'll teach you better manners." Upon this eight of the pirates boarded, and took possession of the ship, and as soon as Roberts came alongside, the pirate began again to threaten to drub him for daring to affront him; and when he declared he meant no offence, cried out, "D--n you, you dog, don't stand there to chatter, come aboard," and stood with a cutlass ready drawn to receive him. While still hesitating, the gunner, who wore a gold-laced hat, looked over the side, and said, "Come up, master, you shan't be abused." When he got up, the pirate raised his sabre as if to cut him down, asking what a dog deserved for not coming aboard when the boat was first sent. Roberts replied, if he had done amiss, it was through ignorance, as he did not know what they were. "Curse you," said the pirate, "who do you think we are?" Roberts now trembled for fear, for having once been captured by pirates at Newfoundland, he knew--one wrong word and the knife was at his throat. After a short pause, he said, "I believed you were gentlemen of fortune belonging to the sea." At this the Portuguese, a little pacified, said, "You lie, we are pirates." After vapouring for some time, the pirate asked, in a sneering tone, why Roberts had not put on his clothes to visit gentlemen. Roberts replied, that he did not know of the visit when he dressed, and, besides, came in such a fright on account of their threats, that he had very little thought or stomach to change clothes, still, if it would please them to grant him the liberty, he would go and put on better clothes, hoping it was not yet too late. "D--n you," said the pirate, "yes, it is too late; what clothes you took you shall keep, but your sloop and what is in her is ours." Roberts said, he perceived it was, but hoped, as he lay at their mercy, they would be so generous as to take only what they had occasion for and leave him the rest. The Portuguese said, "that was a company business, and he could say nothing about that yet." He then bade him give an account of his cargo and money, and of everything aboard his sloop, for if upon rummaging they found the least article concealed, they would burn the vessel and him in her. The pirates standing by also begged him to make a full discovery of all money, arms, and ammunition, which were the chief things they sought after, for it was their way to punish liars and concealers very severely. Roberts then drew up an account from memory, and asked to see his ship's papers that he might complete it. Russel said, "No, he would take care of the papers, and if anything was found missing in the inventory he must look out for squalls." During this time the pirates were rummaging the sloop, but found nothing but a ring and a pair of silver buckles not inserted in the list. During the capture a Portuguese priest and six black fishermen, taken on board at the Isle of Sal, who had been sent on shore, escaped to the hills. Russel, seeing them, told Roberts that he had captured the fishing sloop to which the fugitives belonged, but one of his gang had run away with it, carrying off £800 in cash, in addition. Russel then slipped cable and made Roberts pilot them to Paraghisi, in company with their other vessel, the _Rose Pink_, of thirty-six guns, commanded by Edmund Loe, their commodore. At Paraghisi they landed thirty-five men and captured the fugitive priest, five negroes, and the old governor's son. Russel on his return was received with great ceremony by his commander, the gunner acting as master of the ceremonies and presenting Roberts. Captain Loe welcomed him aboard with the usual compliments, "It's not my desire, captain," he said, "to meet with any of my countrymen (but rather foreigners), excepting some few whom I want to chastise for their roguishness; but, however, since fortune has ordered it so that you have fallen into our hands, I would have you be of good cheer and not cast down." Roberts replied, "I am very sorry, sir, that I chanced to fall in your way, but I feel I am still in the hands of gentlemen of honour and generosity, in whose power it is still to make my capture no misfortune." Loe said, "It does not lie singly in my breast, for all business of this nature is determined by a majority of votes in the whole company, and though neither I nor, I believe, any of the rest desire to meet with any of our nation, yet when we do it cannot well be avoided to take as our own what Providence sends us; and, as we are gentlemen who depend entirely on fortune, we durst not be so ungrateful to her as to despise any of her favours, however mean, for fear that she might withdraw her hand and leave us to perish for lack of those very things we had slighted." After this philosophical utterance, the great man, who sat astride on a great gun, and not, like other potentates, in a chair of state, without moving from his place, begged Roberts, with much condescension, to make himself at home, requesting to know what he would drink. The broken-spirited man, still trembling for his life, replied, "He did not care then much for drinking, but out of a sense of the honour they did him in asking he would drink anything he chose." Loe told him "Not to be cast down, it was the fortune of war: d----, sir, care killed the cat, and fretting thinned the blood and was d---- bad for the health. To please the company he should be brisk and cheerful and he would soon have better fortune." He then rang the bell and bade one of the _valets de cabin_ bring in a bowl of punch. This was brought and mixed in a rich silver bowl holding two gallons. He then called for some wine, and two bottles of claret being brought, Roberts sipped at the claret while Loe drained the bowl with his usual philosophy and contentment. As he grew warm with the fragrant draught, he told Roberts that he was a d----d good fellow, and he would do him all the favours he could, but wished he had had the good fortune to have been captured ten days earlier, when they had taken two Portuguese outward bound Brazilmen, laden with cloth, woollens, hats, silk, and iron, for he believed he could have prevailed on his company to have loaded Roberts's ship. "But now unfortunately," he added, as he put down the empty bowl, "they had no goods at all, having flung all the Brazil stuffs into David Jones's locker (the sea). He did not know, however, but he might meet Roberts again (such things did come round), and then if it lay in his way he would make Roberts a return for his loss, for he might depend on his readiness to serve him as far as his power or interest could reach." To this outburst of sympathy Roberts replied by bowing and sipping his unrelished glass of claret. While they were talking word was brought that Quartermaster-General Russel had arrived with the prisoners, and the commodore, ordering the empty bowl to be removed, bade them come in. Russel, the chief officers, and the prisoners then crowded into the cabin, and to the question of "How goes the game?" Russel gave an account of his expedition. On landing they had at once seized two blacks, who had been sent by the governor as heralds, and used them as guides. Though the road was uneven and rocky they reached the town, twelve miles distant, that night, surprising the governor and priest. Russel told them, that hearing they had great stores of dollars hoarded up, he had come to share it with them, as it was one rule of his trade to keep money moving and circulation brisk. The priest said they had none, and the island was barren and uncultivated. Russel said he had only two senses, seeing and feeling, which could convince him the information was false. The priest then lit a number of consecrated wax-candles, and allowed them to search. They found, however, nothing but twenty dollars, which he did not think worth taking. The men then lay down to sleep, keeping their arms loaded and their pistols slung, and setting a watch. The next morning he carried the prisoners to the boats. Upon this tame conclusion, Loe, who had been sitting patient and quiet as a judge, started up and said, interrupting Russel, "Zounds! what satisfaction is this to me or the company? We did not want these black fools, d----n them! No, we wanted their money, and if they had none, they might have stayed ashore or gone to the devil." Russel, nettled at this rebuke, replied fiercely, "I have as much interest in getting the money as any of the company, and did as much to find it: I don't believe there was more than we saw, and that wouldn't have been sixpence a head, a trifle not worth having our name called in question for. For my part, I am for something that is worth taking, and if I can't light on such, I never will give the world occasion to say that I am a poor sneaking rogue and mean-spirited fellow. No, I will rob for something of value, or not at all, especially among these people, where, if our company breaks, we may look for a place of refuge; and I boldly affirm that it is a fool's act to draw on us their odium by such peddling thefts, that would be by all men accounted a narrow-souled, beggarly action, and would be cursed to all futurity by this fraternity, who might suffer for its effects." Captain Loe, abashed by the murmur of approval that followed this speech, said, "it was all very true, and carried a deal of reason with it, that he was satisfied with Russel's judgment and courage in the affair; but come," says he, "let us do nothing rashly"--and filling a bumper, drank to Russel, wishing Roberts better success in his next voyage. Russel then went on shore again, and, finding the priest had escaped to the mountains, told the governor, an old negro, that he should burn the town to ashes if he was not brought in in three hours' time. The governor said the thing was impossible, that he lay at their mercy, and hoped he would not destroy the innocent for the guilty. Russel declared the doom should not be deferred, but promised the priest should not be killed if he surrendered himself. While parties of blacks were on the hunt, Russel ordered an ox to be roasted for his men, and a pipe of wine to be broached; and on the priest being captured, treated all the natives at their Christian minister's expense, leaving him to extract it from them again in tithes. The priest and governor, when they heard they were to be taken on board, to assure Loe of their poverty, prayed not to be detained as slaves. Russel told them he was a Catholic, and no harm should be done them. They were soon afterwards released. Loe then ordered a hammock for Roberts, till his own and ship's fate were decreed by the company, telling him generously, in language rather metaphorical than strictly accurate, that everything in the ship was at his command, and begging him not to vary his usual course of hours, drinking, or company. Next morning about eight, as Roberts was pacing unemployed and melancholy on the deck, three pirates came up to him, and said that they had once sailed with him on board the _Susannah_, in 1718. They expressed sorrow for his ill luck, and promised to do something for him. They said they had fifty pieces of white linens, and eight of silk, and that when the company had agreed to restore him his ship, they would make interest to load it. Then looking about as if wishing to tell him a secret, and seeing the deck clear, which it seldom was in pirate vessels, with much concern they informed him that if he did not take abundance of care, he would be forced to stay with them, for their mate had found that he knew the coast of Brazil, whither they were bound after they had scoured that of Guinea, and they would take him as pilot. Then enjoining him to secresy (for their lives depended upon it), they said they had been in close consultation as to his fate, and had almost agreed to take him as a forced prisoner. They had praised him as kind to his men, and a good paymaster, and, knowing the pirate law that no married man could be forced to join their ships, swore at a hazard that he was married, and had four children. His mate had turned informer, but he was as yet ignorant of their articles, which they never showed till they were signed. His only chance of escape was to keep up to their story. Russel, one of the council, had been in favour of breaking through the law in this special case, and keeping Roberts at all events till they could catch another guide, but Loe was opposed to it, telling them it would be an ill precedent and of bad consequence, for that if once they took the liberty of breaking their articles and oath, nothing would be sure. They added that most of the company being of Loe's opinion, Russel was vexed and determined if possible to break the articles. Soon after they were gone, Loe came on deck, and bidding him good morrow, with many compliments, ordered the flag, the signal for consultation, to be hoisted. This they called "the green trumpeter," and was a green silk flag, with the figure of a trumpeter in yellow, and hoisted on the mizen peak. Upon this all came on board to breakfast, crowding both cabin and steerage. After breakfast Loe asked Roberts, as if casually, if he was married and had children. The latter answered he had five and perhaps six, for one was on the stocks when he came away. He then asked him, if he had left them well provided for. Roberts replied, he had left his wife in such indifferent circumstances, having met with recent misfortunes, that the greater part of his substance was in that ship and cargo, and if that failed they would want even for bread. Loe then turned to Russel and said, "It won't do, Russel." "What won't do?" replied the quartermaster. "You know what I mean," said Loe; "it must not and it shall not be, by----" "It must and shall be, by----" replied Russel; "'Self-preservation is the first law of nature,' and 'Necessity knows no law,' says the adage." "Well," says Loe, "it shall never be by my consent." The rest of the company then declared it was a pity, and ought to be seriously weighed and put to the vote. Loe said, indeed it ought, and that there was no time like the present to determine the matter. The rest all cried, "Ay, it is best to end it now." Loe then ordered all hands upon deck, and bade Roberts stay in the cabin. In about two hours (awful hours for Roberts, to sit listening for shouts or cries), Loe came down, and asked him how he did. Russel said, with a frown, "Master, your sloop is very leaky." Roberts replied it was, wishing to depreciate its value. "Leaky," said Russel, "I don't know what you could do with her if we gave her you, for all your hands now belong to us." Russel then continued to taunt him for his want of cargo and provision, as if to give a keener edge to his misery. At last, "Come, come," said Loe, "let us toss the bowl about, and call a fresh course." They then proceeded to carouse and talk of their past transactions at Newfoundland, the Western Islands, the Canaries, &c., and at dinner tore their food one from the other, thinking such ferocity looked martial. Next morning one of the three men contrived to speak to Roberts, and apologized for his caution, as they had an article making it death to hold any secret correspondence with a prisoner. He then informed him that his own mate was his great enemy, and seemed likely to turn rogue and enter with them, leaving him only a boy and a child to manage the sloop. Both he and his companions heartily wished to join him, but found it would be death even to mention it, as they had an article that any of the company advising or merely speaking of separation should be shot to death by the quartermaster's order, without even court-martial. Russel had been Roberts' friend till the mate had told him of his captain's knowledge of Brazil, and had even planned a gathering for him nearly equal in value to what they had taken, for it was a custom in pirate vessels to keep a spare stock of linen, silk, gold lace, and clothes, to give to any prisoner whom they took a liking to or had known before. Loe was his friend, the sailor assured him, but that he could do little against Russel, who had really more power and sway than anyone else. Some time after this man left him, Captain Loe turned out, and, passing the usual compliments, sent for some rum, and discoursed on many indifferent subjects. Upon all of these Roberts was obliged to appear interested, dreading this sea-despot's displeasure. Perhaps a button-holder, like this Trunnion, never had so attentive an auditor, or so hearty an applauder of anecdotes, good or bad. About ten o'clock Russel, the evil genius, came on board, and accosted Roberts in an agreeable manner, trying to conciliate him into consenting to his proposal. He said, he had been considering Roberts's scheme, and did not see how he could carry it through. He believed Roberts was a man of understanding, but in this case was directed by sheer desperation rather than reason. For his part he did not think it would stand with the credit or reputation of the company to put it into his power to throw himself wilfully away, as he seemed determined to do. Wishing him indeed well, he had been thinking all night upon a scheme which, without exposing him to danger, would turn out more to his advantage than anything he could expect by getting the sloop. (Here Roberts's eye brightened.) He had resolved to sink or burn the sloop, and detain Roberts as a prisoner, all the company promising to give him the first prize they took, or to allow him to join their crew. This would be the making of him, and enable him to soon leave off sea, and live ashore if he were so inclined. Roberts thanked him, but said he thought he should gather no advantage from such a plan, for he could not dispose of a ship or cargo without a lawful power to sell, and if the owners heard of it, he should be either obliged to make restitution, or be thrown into prison, and run the hazard of his own life. Russel replied that his objections were frivolous, and could easily be evaded. To avoid detection, they would make him a bill of sale, and give him powers in writing that would answer any inquiry. As for the owners, they would take care from the ship's writings, which they always first seized, to let him know who were the owners of the cargo, and where they lived. These writings should be made in a false name, which Roberts could assume till all were sold. Roberts said there was abundant address in his contrivance and much plausibility in the whole. But were he even sure that all would turn out well, he had a still stronger motive than any he had yet mentioned, and that was his dread of the continual sting and accusation of his conscience. He then with more courage than he had hitherto shown, began to expatiate on the duty of restitution, and tried to awaken his hearers to some sense of the sin of piracy. Many said, with a laugh, he would do well to preach a sermon, and would make a good chaplain. Others shouted that they wanted no preaching there. "Pirates had no god but money, no saviour but their muskets." A few approved of what he said, and declared that if a little goodness, or at least rude humanity, was in practice among them, their reputation would be a little better both with God and man. A short silence followed, which captain Russel broke by employing some Jesuitical sophistry, to persuade Roberts that it would be no sin for him merely to accept what they had stolen, since he had no hand in the theft, and was their constrained prisoner. "Suppose," he said, "we should still resolve to sink or burn your sloop, unless you will accept of her. Now, where I pray, is the owner's property when the ship is sunk or burnt. I think the impossibility of his ever having her again cuts it off to all intents and purposes, and our power was the same, notwithstanding our giving her to you, if we had thought fit to make use of it." Loe and the rest here burst out laughing, declared it was as good as a play to hear the two argue, and that Roberts was a match for Russel, though few could generally stand up to him in a fight with mere words. Roberts not allowing this praise to over-balance his prudence, would not drive Russel further, seeing him vexed at their applause. He merely said that he knew he was absolutely in their power to dispose of as they pleased, but that having hitherto been treated so generously by them, he could not doubt of their future goodness to him. That if they would please to give him his sloop again, it was all he requested at their hands, and that, he doubted not, by his honest endeavours he should be able to retrieve his present loss. Upon this Captain Loe said, "Gentlemen, the master, I must needs say, has spoke nothing but what I think is very reasonable, and I think he ought to have his sloop. What do you say, gentlemen?" The majority cried out with one voice, "Ay, ay, by G---- let the poor man have his sloop again, and go in God's name and seek a living in her for his family." In the evening Russel insisted on treating Roberts on board his own schooner before his departure. All passed off well till after supper, when a bowl of punch and half a dozen of claret were put on the table. The captain first took a bumper, wishing success to the undertaking, and this toast passed round, Roberts not daring to refuse to drink. The next health was, "Prosperity to our trade." The third, "Health to the King of France." Russel then proposed "The King of England's health," and all drank it, some repeating his words, others saying, "the aforesaid health." Just before it came to Roberts, Russel poured two bottles of claret into the punch, and his prisoner disliking this mixture, begged to pledge the health in a bumper of claret. At this heresy, Russel, who had laid his trap, flew into a passion, "D----" he said, "you shall drink in your turn a full bumper of that sort of liquor the company does." "Well then, gentlemen," said Roberts, "rather than have words, I will drink, though it is in a manner poison to me." "Curse you," said Russel; "if it be in a manner or out of a manner, or really rank poison, you shall drink as much and as often as anyone here, unless you fall down dead, dead." Then Roberts, dreading a quarrel with his old enemy, took the glass, which held about three-quarters of a pint, and filling a bumper, said, "The aforesaid health." "What health is that?" said Russel. "Why," answered Roberts, "the health you have all drank--the King of England's health." "Who is king of England?" said Russel. "In my opinion," said Roberts, "he that wears the crown is certainly king of England." "Well," argued his opponent, "and who is that?" Upon his saying King George, he swore at him, and said the English had no king. Roberts replied, laughing, "He wondered he should begin and drink a health to a person who was not in being." At this quip, Russel drew a pistol from his sash, and would have shot his unoffending enemy dead, had not the gunner snatched it out of his hand. At this Russel, who was a Roman Catholic and a Jacobite, grew still more maddened, and fired another at Roberts, saying, "The Pretender is the only lawful king." The master striking down the barrel, the pistol went off without doing mischief. High words then arose between Russel and the gunner, and the latter, addressing the company, said, "Well, gentlemen, if you have a mind to maintain these laws, made, established, and sworn to by us all, as I think we are obligated by the strongest ties of reason and self-interest to do, I assure you my opinion is that we ought to secure John Russel, so as to prevent his breaking our constitution." When Russel attempted, still in a passion, to defend his conduct, the gunner declared, "That no man's life should be taken away in cold blood till the company, under whose care he was, had so decreed it." Then accusing him of hating Roberts, merely because he had been prevented from breaking the articles by detaining him, he left the spot. Russel's arms were next taken away, and Roberts, being guarded during the night, was sent to the commodore in the morning, there being a law among them to receive no boats aboard after nine o'clock at night. About four in the afternoon Russel came to Loe, with Spriggs, the commander of the other ship, and told him that Roberts's mate was willing to join them as a volunteer. Loe said, in that case Roberts would have no one but a child to help him; and he thought, in reason, they could not give him less than the mate and two boys. Russel said he could not help that, "the mate was a brisk lusty young fellow, and had been upon the account before. He had declared he would not go in the sloop unless forced; that when he first came to Barbadoes his resolve had been to ship himself on board the first pirate he met with." Loe replied, "That to give the master a vessel without men was only putting him to a lingering death, and they had better knock him on the head at once." Russel replied, "as for that they might do as they pleased; he spoke for the good of the company and according to articles, and he should like to see or hear the man who dared to gainsay it. He was quartermaster, and by the authority of that office should at once enter the mate, and had a pistol and a brace of bullets for any who opposed him." Loe said he would not argue against law and custom, but he thought if they kept the mate they should substitute another man. Russel said, with an oath, grinding his teeth, "No, the sloop's men were enrolled already in his books, and he should rub no names out." Then turning to Roberts, he added, "The company, master, has decreed you your sloop, and you shall have her; you shall have your two boys, that's all: but you shall have neither provisions nor anything else more than she has now. And, as I hear some of the company design to make a gathering for you, that also I forbid, by the authority of my office, because we are not certain but we may have occasion ourselves for those very things before we get more. And I swear by all that's good and bad, if I know anything that's carried or left on board the sloop against my order, or without my knowledge, I will set her on fire that very instant, and you with her." After a little more dispute and feeble and intimidated resistance to this violence, Russel's stern resolution and heartless villany carried the day, and about dusk they parted, each to his own ship, several professing kindness to Roberts, but none giving him anything. When Russel was ready, he sent Roberts into his boat, and bringing him to his own ship, ordered supper for him, and bottles, and pipes and tobacco, being set on the table, he invited Roberts and his officers into his cabin. His revenge was now accomplished and the wretch, now resolved to make Roberts taste the tortures of death, by anticipation, addressed him with a sneer worthy of the applause of hell. "Captain Roberts," he said, "you are very welcome, and I pray you eat and drink heartily, for you have as tedious a voyage to go through as Elijah in his forty days' journey to Horeb, and, as far as I know, without a miracle, it must be only by the strength of what you now eat, for you shall have neither eatables nor drinkables with you in the sloop." Roberts replied, "I hope not so," but Russel answered he would find it certainly true. Roberts then said, that rather than be put on board the sloop in that manner, when there was no possibility of escaping but by a miracle, he should be glad to be sent ashore on some island off the coast of Guinea, or even to tarry on board till an opportunity occurred to land where he pleased, for he would yield to anything else they should think fit to do with him, except entering into their service. Russel answered with an oath, the usual prelude of a pirate's harangue, that it had been once in his power to have been his own friend, but as he chose to slight their proffered favours, and had made that choice, he must now take it, as all apologies were too late; and he thought he had proved himself a better friend than Roberts could have expected, since he had caused him to have more differences with his company than he had ever had before. Roberts pleaded the innocence of his intentions, and intreated Russel and all the gentlemen present to consider him an object rather of pity than vengeance. But his tormentor, more inexorable than a headsman, said: "All your whining arguments, you dog, are now too late. You not only refused our commiseration when it was offered, but ungratefully despised it. Your lot is cast, and you have nothing to do but to go through your chance with a good face. Fill your belly with victuals and good drink, and strengthen yourself for three days or so, or have some brandy and die drunk, and be happy. This is your last meal in this world, so fail not to make the most of it. Yet, perhaps, such a conscientious man as you pretend to be may have a miracle worked for you, but for my own part I don't believe God himself, if there is one, could help you. I pity the boys, and have a great mind, Roberts, to keep them on board, and let the miracle be worked on you alone." The master and governor said they heard the boys were willing to take their chance with the master, let it be what it would. "Nay, then," said Russel, "it is fit the young devils should, and I suppose the master has made them as religious and conscientious as himself. However, master," he cried, "eat and drink heartily; this is your last supper, as the priests call it, and don't try to change your allotted fate, or it may provoke us to treat you worse." "Gentlemen," said Roberts, with a resignation that would have touched any other man, "I have done; you can do no more than God is pleased to permit you, and I own for that reason I ought to take it patiently. God forgive you." "Well, well," said Russel, "if it is done by God's permission, you need not fear He will permit any harm to befall one of his peculiar elect." About ten at night, in order that darkness might add to his dismay, some of Russel's partisans brought the sloop's boat. In answer to an inquiry as to whether they had cleared the vessel as he had ordered, they replied with an oath, "Ay, ay, she has nothing on board except ballast and water." "Zounds," said Russel, stamping on the deck, "did I not bid you stave all the casks that had water in them?" "So we have," was the reply; "the water we mean is salt water leaked in, and now above the ballast, for we have not pumped her, we don't know when." He asked if they had brought away the sails. They said they had, all but the mainsail that was bent, for the other old mainsail was so rotten it was only fit to cut up for parcelling, and was so torn it could not be brought to, and was past mending. "Zounds," said Russel, "we must have it, for I want it to make us a mainsail. The same miraculous Power that brings the rogue provisions will bring him sails." "What a devil! is he a conjuror?" said one. "No, no!" replied Russel, "but he expects miracles to be wrought for him, or he would never have chosen what he has." "Nay, nay, if he be such a one, he will do well enough." "But I doubt," cried another, "if he be such a mighty conjuror, for if he was, how the devil was it that he did not conjure himself clear of us?" "Pish!" cried a third, "may be his conjuring books were all shut up." "Ay," said a fourth, "now we have all his conjuration books over board, I doubt he'll be hard put to it." The gunner alone seemed to retain any trace of humanity, he bade Russel take care he had not this to answer for some day when he would be sorry for it. "Howsum-dever," he said, "you've got the company's assent, I can't tell how, and, therefore, I shall say no more, only that I, and I believe most of the gentlemen came here to get money, but not to kill, except in fight, much less in cold blood, or for private revenge. And I tell you, Jack Russel, if ever such cases as these be any more practised, my endeavours will be to leave this company as soon as convenient." Russel made no answer, but ordered his men to fetch the mainsail from the sloop. He then gave Roberts an old worm-eaten musket, a damp cartridge, and two half pounds of tobacco "as a parting present." His victim was then conducted with great ceremony over the side into his own boat, and put on board with his two boys. As their boat was putting away, Roberts thought he heard his mate's voice, so he called to him and said, "Arthur! what, are you going to leave me?" A voice replied, for it was pitch dark, "Ay." "What!" said Roberts, "do you do it voluntarily, or are you forced?" He answered faintly, "I am forced, I think!" Roberts answered "Very well." The mate then called out and asked Roberts, if he ever had an opportunity, to write and give his brother an account of him. Roberts asked where he lived, and the mate replied at Carlingford, in Ireland. Now this mate the captain had picked up at Barbadoes, a naked shipwrecked man, who had served in a New England sloop. He had bought him clothes and instruments, and treated him with sympathy and kindness. He was a rigid Presbyterian, a great arguer on theological points, and a loud inveigher against the Church of England. Although he had never before been heard to utter an oath, as soon as Russel persuaded him to join the pirate crew, he became constantly drunk, and outdid them all in blasphemy and wickedness, but he had told his new companions so much of Roberts's kindness, that but for Russel they would not have allowed him to join them. Next morning Roberts proceeded to rummage the sloop, and sweeping out the bread lockers, he found about his hat crown full of biscuit crumbs, some broken pipes, and a few screws of tobacco. They had left his fore-staff, but took his bedding, although they generally lay upon deck, or against a gun carriage. In the hold, the more merciful had left ten gallons of rum in one hogshead, and thirty pounds of rice in another, with three pints of water and a little flour, together with some needles and twine, sufficient to repair his rotten sails. A day or two afterwards they caught a shark, which they boiled for several dinners, using the shark's liver, melted, for oil. He soon after reached Curisal, obtained a negro crew, was wrecked, built a boat, and was eventually taken home by an English ship. Scarcely less interesting than this narrative of Roberts is that of Captain William Snelgrave, who was engaged in the slave trade on the Guinea coast in 1738. Having escaped one of the dreaded Salee rovers, he was taken at Sierra Leone by Captain Cocklyn of the _Rising Sun_, a pirate commanding three vessels and a gang of eighty men. He had been marooned by a man named Moody, but had gradually collected men, and captured, in a short time, ten English vessels. Moody's crew, soon after Cocklyn's departure, disliking their captain's cruelty, put him and twelve more in an open boat, which they had taken from the Spaniards off the Canary Islands, and chose a Frenchman named Le Bouce as their commander, who instantly put back and joined Cocklyn, whom they liked because he was fierce and brutal, being resolved to have no more gentlemanlike captains like Moody. The next day Davis, the pirate, arrived with 150 well disciplined men, the black flag flying at his mast head. The evening Snelgrave entered the river, he observed a suspicious smoke on land, but his mate said it was only travellers roasting oysters, and it appeared afterwards that he was a traitor. On standing in for the river's mouth, the pirate vessels appeared in sight. Towards dusk he heard a boat approaching, so he ordered twenty men to get ready their firearms and cutlasses. Lanterns being brought and the boat hailed, the pirates fired a volley at the ship, being then within pistol shot distance, a daring act for twelve men, who were attacking a ship of sixteen guns and forty-five men. When they began to near, the captain called out to fire from the steerage port-holes. This not being done, he went below, and found his people staring at each other, and declaring they could not find the arm chest. The pirates instantly boarded, fired down the steerage, shooting a sailor in the loins, and throwing hand grenades amongst them. On their calling for "mercy," the quartermaster, who always headed the pirate boarders, came down from the quarterdeck and inquired for the captain, asking how he dared to fire. On Snelgrave saying it was his duty to defend his ship, the quartermaster presented a pistol at his breast, but he parried it, and the bullet passed under his arm. The wretch then struck him on the head with the butt end, bringing him on his knees. On his getting up and running to the quarterdeck, the pirate boatswain made a blow at his head with his broad sword, swearing no quarter should be offered to any captain who dared to defend his vessel. The blow missed him, but the blade cut an inch deep in the quarterdeck rail, and there broke. The pirate's pistols being all unloaded, he then struck at him with the butt end of one of them till the crew cried out for his life, and said they had never sailed with a better man. One of the crew, however, had his chin cut off; another fell for dead on the deck. The quartermaster who came up, told him he should be cut to pieces if his men did not recover the pirate's boat that had run adrift. On recovering this, he took him by the hand, and declared his life was safe if none of his crew complained of him. The pirate then fired several vollies for joy at their recovery, but forgetting to hail their companions, were fired on by the other ships. When Snelgrave questioned the quartermaster why he did not use his speaking trumpet, he asked him angrily whether he was afraid of going to the devil by a great shot, "for that he hoped to be sent to hell by a cannon ball some time or other." The pirates now prepared for dinner by cramming geese, turkeys, fowls, and ducks, all unpicked, into the furnace, with some Westphalia hams, and a large sow in pig, which they only bowelled, leaving the hair on. Soon after this, a sailor came to Snelgrave to ask him what o'clock it was, and on the captain's presenting him with his watch, laid it on the deck, and kicked it about, saying it would make a good football. One of the pirates then caught it up, and said it should go into the common chest, and be sold at the mast. Snelgrave was soon after carried on board the pirate ship. The commander told him he was sorry for the bad usage he had met with, but it was the fortune of war, and that if he did not answer truly every question he would be cut into even ounces, but that if he told the truth they would make it the best voyage he had ever taken. One of them asked if his ship sailed well on wind, and on his saying, "Very well," Cocklyn threw up his hat, saying she would make a brave pirate man-of-war. A tall fellow, with four pistols in his belt, and a broadsword in his hand, then came up and claimed him as an old schoolfellow, and told him secretly that he was a forced man, having been mate in a Bristol vessel lately captured, and was obliged to go armed. He told him also that at night, when the pirates drank hard, was the time of most danger for prisoners. A bowl of punch was then ordered, and the men, going into the great cabin, sat on the floor cross-legged, for want of seats, drinking the Pretender's health by the name of "King James the Third." At midnight they gave Snelgrave a hammock, and his old schoolfellow kept guard over him with a drawn sword, but he could not sleep for the songs and cursing. About two o'clock the pirate boatswain came on board, and hearing Snelgrave was asleep, declared he would slice his liver for daring to fire at the boat, and refusing to give up his watch. Griffin threatened to cleave him if he came nearer, and struck at him with his sword. In the morning, when all were sober, the sentinel complained of the boatswain for infringing the pirate law, "that no ill usage be offered to prisoners when quarter has once been given." The crew proposed the offender should be whipped, but Snelgrave prudently begged him off. Soon after, his own first mate came to tell him that, being badly off and having a scolding wife, he had joined the pirates. He found out afterwards that he had hid the arm-chest, and dissuaded the men from resistance. The pirate then began to rummage the vessel, and, not caring for anything but money, threw overboard, before night, about £4000 worth of Indian bales. They broke up his escritoires, and destroyed his chests of books, swearing there was "jaw work enough for a whole nation." Against all religious books they exercised a strict censorship, for fear of any of the crew being roused to qualms of conscience, or taking a dislike to the profession. The wine too began to be passed freely round, and the pirates grew merciful, and good-humouredly made up a bundle of clothes for the prisoners. At this moment one of Davis's crew, a pert young fellow of 18, broke open a chest for plunder, and on the quartermaster complaining, replied "that they were all equal, and he thought he was in the right." The quartermaster then struck at him with his sword, and pursued him into Davis's cabin, where he thrust at him, and ran him through the hand, wounding the captain as well. Davis vowed revenge, saying that if his man had offended, no one had a right to punish him, and especially in his presence. He then instantly went on board his own ship, and bore down upon Cocklyn, who finally consented to make the quartermaster beg pardon for his fault. Snelgrave was sitting in the cabin with the carpenter and three or four other pirates, when the boatswain came down very drunk, and beginning to abuse him was turned out of the place. Soon after a puff of wind put out the candle, and the boatswain returning, declared Snelgrave had put it out, with the design of going into the powder-room and blowing up the ship; and in spite of the carpenter declaring it was done by accident, he drew a pistol and swore he would blow out the dog's brains. In rising to blow in the candle Snelgrave and the carpenter had, unknown to the boatswain, changed places. The pistol flashing in the pan, the carpenter saw by the light that he must have been shot if it had gone off, and in a rage ran in the dark to the boatswain, wrenched the pistol from his hand and beat him till he was nearly dead. The noise alarmed the ship, and the disturber was carried off to bed. The next morning Davis's crew came on board to divide the wines and liquors. They hoisted on deck a great many half hogsheads of claret and French brandy, knocked out their heads and dipped out cans and bowls full, throwing them at each other, and washing the decks with what was left. The bottles they took no trouble to mark, but "nicked" them, as they called it, by striking off their necks with a cutlass, spilling the contents of about one in every three. The eatables were wasted in the same way. Three drunken pirates coming into the cabin, and tumbling over Snelgrave's bundles of clothes, threw three of the four overboard. A fourth pirate, more sober than the rest, opened the remaining bundle, and taking out a black suit and a wig, put them on and strutted on deck, throwing them over in an hour when the crew had drenched him with claret. When Snelgrave mildly expostulated with him on this robbery, he struck him on the shoulder with the flat of his sword, whispering at the same time a caution never to dispute the will of a pirate for fear he might get his skull split for his impudence. When night came on, Snelgrave had nothing left of four bundles of clothes but a hat and a wig, and these were soon after put on by a drunken man, who staggered into the cabin, saying he was "one of the most respectable merchants on the African coast." As he was leaving the room, a sailor came in and beat him severely for taking what he had no right to, and thinking he was one of the crew. The interposer then comforted Snelgrave, and promised to recover what he had lost, while others of the crew brought him food. Next day, Davis, ordering all the crews on the quarter-deck, made a speech in Snelgrave's behalf, persuading them to give him a ship and several thousand pounds' worth of miscellaneous plunder. One of the men proposed they should take him with them down the Guinea coast, and if they took a Portuguese vessel, to give him a cargo of slaves. Down the coast he might sell his goods for gold dust, and then, sailing for St. Thomas's, sell his ship and the slaves to the Danes, and return to London a rich man. Snelgrave demurring to this, they grew angry, thinking their gift would have been legal, but Davis kindly said, "I know this man and can easily guess his thoughts, he thinks he would lose his reputation. Now, I am for allowing everybody to go to the devil in their own way, so beg you to give him the remains of his own cargo and let him do as he thinks fit." This they granted, but of his own adventure not more than £50 worth was now left. The sailors had taken rolls of fine Holland and opened them to lie down in on the deck. Then when the others came and flung buckets of claret over them, they flung the stained parcels overboard. In loading, the pirates always dropped the bales over, if they were not passed as quickly as they expected. The Irish beef they threw away, Cocklyn saying Snelgrave had horsebeans enough to last his crew six months. Soon after this the brutal quartermaster fell sick of a fever, and sent to Snelgrave to beg his forgiveness, for having attempted to shoot him. He said he had been a wicked wretch, and that his conscience tormented him, for he feared he should roll in hell fire. When Snelgrave preached repentance he declared his heart was hardened, but he would try, and he ordered Snelgrave to take any necessaries he wanted from his chest, but died that night in terrible agonies and cursing God. This so affected many of the new recruits that they begged Snelgrave to get them off, and promised not to be guilty of murder or other cruelty. In the cabin the pirates found some proclamations, and being unable to read asked the prisoner to do it for them. He then read His Majesty's proclamation for a pardon to all pirates that should surrender themselves at any of the British plantations by the 1st of July, 1719. The next was the declaration of war against Spain. When they heard the latter, some said they wished they had known it before they left the West Indies, as they might have turned privateersmen, and have enriched themselves. Snelgrave told them it was not yet too late, there being still three months left of the term prescribed. But when they heard the rewards offered for the apprehension of pirates, a Buccaneer who had been guilty of murder, treated the proclamation with contempt, and tore it in pieces. Amongst other men that consulted Snelgrave was a sailor named Curtis, who, being sick, walked about the deck wrapped in a silk gown. He had sailed with Snelgrave's father. Among other spoil the three pirate captains had found a box with three second-hand embroidered coats, which they seized and put on. The longest falling to Cocklyn's share, who was a short man, it reached to his ankles, but Le Bouce and Davis refused to change with him, saying that as he was going on shore where the negro ladies knew nothing of white men's fashions, it did not matter, and moreover, as his coat was scarlet embroidered with silver, he would be the bravest of them all. These clothes being taken contrary to law, and without the quartermaster's leave, the crew were offended, declaring that if they suffered such things, the captains would assume a new power, and soon take whatever they liked. The next morning when their captains returned, the coats were taken from them, and put into the common chest; and it having been reported that Snelgrave had advised the costume, many of the men turned against him, one of them threatening to cut him to pieces. A sailor who stood near told Snelgrave not to be frightened at the man's threat, for he always spoke in that way, and advised him to call him "captain" when he came on board, for the fellow had once been commander of a pirate sloop, did not like the post of quartermaster, and loved to be called by his old title. On entering the ship, Snelgrave said softly to him, "Captain Williams, pray hear me on the point you are so offended about." Upon this Williams gave him a playful blow on the shoulder with the flat of his sword, and said "I have not the heart to hurt thee." He then explained the affair, drank a glass of wine with him, and they were friends ever after. The pirates next captured a French ship that they had at first taken for a forty-gun ship in pursuit of them. The men drunk and newly levied, might at this time have easily been cut off, and the hundred sail of ships they afterwards destroyed saved. When some of the men cried out that they had never seen a gun fired in anger, Cocklyn caned them, telling them they should soon learn to smell gunpowder. The French captain they hung at the yard-arm for not striking at their first shot. When they had pulled him up and down several times till he was almost dead, Le Bouce interfered for his countryman, protesting he would sail no longer with such barbarous villains. They then gave him the French ship, first destroying her cargo, cutting her masts by the board, and running her on shore, as old and useless. Snelgrave's ship being now fitted up by the pirates, he was invited to its christening. The officers stood round the great cabin, holding bumpers of punch in their hands; and on Captain Cocklyn saying, "God bless the Wyndham galley," they drank the liquor, broke their glasses, and the guns thundered a broadside. The new ship being galley built with only two flush decks, the powder-room scuttle was in the chief cabin, and at that time stood open. One of the guns blowing at the touch-hole, set fire to some cartouch boxes that held small arm cartridges, the shot of which flew about, filling the room with smoke. When it was over, Davis remarked on the great danger they had been in, the scuttle having been all the time open, and 20,000 lb. weight of powder lying under. Cocklyn replied with a curse, "I wish it had taken fire, for it would have been a noble blast to have gone to hell with." The next day the pirate captains invited Snelgrave to dinner, and during supper a trumpeter and other musicians, who had been taken from various prizes, played and sang. About the middle of supper there was a sudden cry of fire, and a sailor boy, running in, with a pale face, said the main hatchway was on fire. The crew were then nearly drunk, and many of them leaped into the boats, leaving the officers and the fifty prisoners. On Snelgrave remarking to Davis the danger they were in, being left without a boat, Davis fired a great gun at the fugitives, and brought them back. The gunner then put wet blankets on the bulk head of the powder-room, and so saved it from destruction. This immense store of powder had been collected from various prizes, as being an article in great request with the negroes. Snelgrave took one of the quarterdeck gratings and lowered it over the ship's side with a rope, in case he should be obliged to leave the ship, and all this time the drunken sailors were standing on the quarterdeck, to the horror of the prisoners, shouting, "Hurrah for a quick passage to hell!" About ten o'clock the master, a brisk and courageous man, who, with fifteen more, had spared no pains to conquer the flames, came up miserably burnt, and calling for a surgeon, declared the danger was now all over. The fire had arisen from the carelessness of a negro, who being sent to pump out some rum, held his candle so near the bung-hole of the hogshead that a spark caught the spirit. This soon fired another tub, and both their heads flew off with the report of a cannon; but though there were twenty casks of rum, and as many of pitch and tar in the store, all the rest escaped. Before morning, the gunner's mate having spoken in favour of Snelgrave's conduct during the fire, the crew sent for him to attend the sale of his effects on board the Wyndham galley. Some promised to be kind to him; and the captain offered to buy his watch. As they were talking, a mate, half drunk, proposed that Snelgrave should be kept as a pilot till they left the coast, but Davis caned him off the quarter deck. Two days after this the pirates took a small vessel belonging to the African Company. Snelgrave's first mate then told them that he had been once very badly served by this company, and begged that they would burn the vessel in revenge. This was about to be ordered when Stubbs, a quick-witted sailor, stood up and said, "Pray, gentlemen, hold, and I will prove to you that the burning of this ship will only advance the company's interests. The vessel has been out two years; is old, crazy, and worm-eaten; her stores are worth little, and her cargo consists only of red wood and pepper, the loss of which will not harm the company, who will save the men's wages, which will be three times the value of the cargo." This convinced the crew, who at once spared the vessel, and returned her to the captain. A few days afterwards, Snelgrave's things were sold at the mast, many of the men returning him their purchases, his old school-fellow in particular begging hard on his behalf. When the fiercer men observed the great heap of things he had collected, they swore the dog was insatiable, and said it would be a good deed to throw them overboard. Hearing this, Snelgrave loaded his canoe, and, by the advice of his friends, returned to shore. Soon after he left, his watch was put up for sale, and run to £100 in order to vex Davis, who, however, bought it at that enormous price. One of the sailors, enraged at this, tried the case on a touch-stone, and, seeing it looked copperish from the alloy in the gold, swore it was bad metal. They then declared Snelgrave was a greater rogue than any of them, since he had cheated them all. Russel laughed at this, and then vowed to whip him when he came next. Upon the advice of his friends, Snelgrave hid in the woods till the pirates left the river, and soon after returned with several other ruined men to England. Of the MADAGASCAR PIRATES some scanty record in Hamilton's Account of the East Indies, published in 1726. He mentions the fact that the pirates had totally destroyed the English slave trade in that island, in spite of several squadrons of men-of-war sent against them. To use the author's own rather ambiguous words, "A single ship, commanded by one Millar, did more than all the chargeable fleets could do, for, with a cargo of strong ale and brandy, which he carried to sell them in 1704, he killed about 500 of them by carousing, though they took his ship and cargo as a present from him, and his men entered, most of them, into the society of the pirates." Commodore Littleton lent them blocks and tackle-falls to careen, and, for some secret reasons, released some of their number. The author concludes in the following manner: "Madagascar is environed with islands and dangerous shoals both of rocks and sand. St. Mary's, on the east side, is the place which the pirates first chose for their asylum, having a good harbour to defend them from the weather, though in going in there are some difficulties. But hearing the squadrons of English ships were come in quest of them, they removed to the main island for more security, and there they have made themselves free denizens by marriage." And the author is of opinion it will be no easy matter to dispossess them. In 1722 Mr. Matthews went in search of them, but found they had deserted St. Mary's Island, leaving behind them some marks of their robberies, for in some places he found pepper strewed a foot thick on the ground. The commodore went, with his squadron, over into the main island, but the pirates had carried their ships into rivers or creeks, out of danger of the men-of-war, and to burn them with their boats would have been impracticable, since they could have easily distressed the crews from the woods. The commodore had some discourse with several of them, but they stood on their guard, ready to defend themselves in case any violence had been offered them. The 11th and 12th of William III., and the 8th George I., are both statutes against piracy, and are indications of the years in which their ravages were peculiarly felt. By the first, any natural-born subject committing an act of hostility against any of his Majesty's subjects, under colour of a commission from any foreign power, could be tried for piracy. And further, any commander betraying his trust, and running away with the ship, or yielding it up voluntarily to a pirate, or any one confining his captain to prevent him fighting, was adjudged a pirate, felon, and robber, and was sentenced to death. The later acts make it piracy even to trade with known pirates. Commanders or seamen wounded, or their widows slain in piratical engagements, were entitled to a bounty not exceeding one-fiftieth part of the value of the cargo, and wounded men received the pension of Greenwich Hospital. If the commander behaved cowardly, he was to forfeit all his wages, and suffer six months' imprisonment. Such are a few of the facts connected with the almost unrecorded and uncertain history of the pirates of New Providence and Madagascar, the most loathsome wretches that perhaps, since Cain, have ever washed their hands in human blood. Ferocious yet often cowardly, they were subtle and cruel, with none of the frequent generosity of outlaws, and little of the enterprise of the military adventurers. Long ago have their bones crumbled from the dark gibbets on the lonely sand islands of the Pacific, and they remain without monument or record, except in prison chronicles and forgotten voyages. We have reviewed their history simply as the natural sequel of our annals, and as an illustration of the character of the English seaman in its most brutal and satanic aspect. THE END. CHIEF AUTHORITIES. BUCCANEER WRITERS. JOHN (JOSEPH?) ESQUEMELING'S[1] Bucaniers of America; or, an Account of the most Remarkable Assaults committed on the Coasts of the West Indies by the Bucaniers of Jamaica and Tortuga; with the Exploits of Sir Henry Morgan. Translated into English from the Dutch, with a Portrait of Sir H. Morgan, a Map and Plates, with a Table. 4to. London. 1684. [1] Rich, in his "Bibliotheca Americana Nova," 1835, confounds Esquemeling, the Dutchman, with Oexmelin, the Frenchman. The English translation of 1684 speaks of Esquemeling's work as written by a Frenchman and Dutchman together, the name being French and the language Dutch. Rich describes it as first printed in Dutch, 1678; then translated into Spanish; then from Spanish into English, and from English into French; the author's name being changed in the latter translation. ---- De Americanische Zee Roovers. 4to. Amsterdam. 1678. ---- Hisp. 12mo. Col. Ag. 1682. ---- Eng. 12mo. London. 1684. ---- 4to. Col. Ag. 1684. ---- 12mo. 4 vols. Maps and Plates. Trevoux. (Augmentée de l'Histoire des Pirates Anglais depuis leur Etablissement dans l'Isle de Providence jusqu'au Presént.): 1775. OEXMELIN, ALEXANDRE OLIVIER--Histoire des Avanturiers qui se sont signalés dans les Indes Occidentales depuis Vingt Ans. Traduite de l'Anglais par le Sr. de Frontignières; avec un Traité de la Chambre de Comptes établie dans les Indes par les Espagnols, traduit de l'Espagnol; le tout enriché des Cartes et des Figures, avec des Tables. 2 vols. 12mo. Paris. 1688. ---- 8vo. Paris. 1688. 2 tom. JESUIT HISTORIANS. PIERRE FRANÇOIS XAVIER CHARLEVOIX--Histoire de l'Isle Espagnole, ou de St. Domingue, écrite sur des Mémoires Manuscrits du P. Jean Baptiste le Tertre, Jésuite Missionaire à St. Domingue, et sur les Pièces Originales qui se conservent au Dépôt de la Marine; avec des Cartes, des Plans, et des Tables. 2 vols. 4to. Paris. 1730-31. Piratas de la America y Luz à la Defensa de las Costas de Indias Occidentales. Traducida del Flamenco en Espanol, por el Doctor Buena Maison, Medico Practico en la Amplissima y Magnifica Ciudad de Amsterdam Dala à Luz esta Tercera Edicion, D.M.G.R. Madrid. 4to. 1763. 12mo. 1682. 4to. 1684. JEAN BAPTISTE DU TERTRE, missionaire apostolique dans les Antilles--Histoires des Antilles Habitées par les François; avec des Figures. 4 vols. 4to. Paris. 1667-71. JEAN BAPTISTE LABAT, Dominicain Parisien, professeur des Philosophies à Nanci, etc.--Nouveau Voyage aux Isles de l'Amérique. 8 vols. 12mo. Paris. 1742. CAPTAIN WILLIAM DAMPIER'S Voyage Round the World. Illustrated with Maps and Plates. 4 vols. in 3. 8vo. London. 1703-9. CAPTAIN COWLEY'S Voyage Round the Globe. 8vo. London. 1679. LIONEL WAFER'S Voyage and Description of the Isthmus of America. 8vo. London, 1699. 8vo. London, 1704. CAPTAIN JAMES BURNEY'S Chronological History of the Discoveries in the South Sea or Pacific Ocean. 3 vols. 4to. 1803-13-17. CAPTAIN T. SOUTHEY'S Chronological History of the West Indies. 3 vols. 8vo. London. 1817. LIST OF BUCCANEER CHIEFS, FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF THEIR EMPIRE TO ITS DOWNFALL. LOUIS SCOTT. PIERRE LE GRAND. PIERRE FRANÇOIS. ROC THE BRAZILIAN. BARTHELEMY PORTUGUES. LOLONNOIS THE CRUEL. ALEXANDRE BRAS DE FER. MONTBARS THE EXTERMINATOR. MOSES VAN VIN. PIERRE LE PICARD. TRIBUTOR. CAPTAIN CHAMPAGNE. LE BASQUE. SIR HENRY MORGAN. CAPTAIN SWAN. CAPTAIN SHARP. CAPTAIN BRADLEY. CAPTAIN COXEN. CAPTAIN BETSHARP. DAMPIER. CAPTAIN GROGNIET. CAPTAIN YANKEY. LAURENT DE GRAFF. SIEUR DE GRAMMONT. SIEUR DE MONTAUBAN. DE LISLE. ANNE LE ROUX. VAUCLIN. OVINET. ELIAS WARD. WILLIS. D'OGERON. CAPTAIN DAVIS. VAN HORN. CAPTAIN MICHAEL. CAPTAIN ROSE. CAPTAIN DAVIOT. LONDON: SERCOMBE AND JACK, 16 GREAT WINDMILL STREET. Just Published, Illustrated with Portraits, THE THIRD AND FOURTH VOLUMES, COMPLETING THE WORK, OF THE MEMOIRS OF THE COURT & CABINETS OF GEORGE III. FROM ORIGINAL FAMILY DOCUMENTS. BY THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM & CHANDOS, K.G. Among the principal important and interesting subjects of these volumes (comprising the period from 1800 to 1810) are the following:--The Union of Great Britain and Ireland--The Catholic Question--The retirement from office of Mr. Pitt and Lord Grenville--The Addington Administration--The Peace of Amiens--The connection of the Prince of Wales with the Opposition--The Coalition of Pitt, Fox, and Grenville--The Downfall of the Addington Ministry--The conduct of the Princess of Wales--Nelson in the Baltic and at Trafalgar--The Administration of Lord Grenville and Mr. Fox--The Abolition of the Slave Trade--The Walcheren Expedition--The Enquiry into the conduct of the Duke of York--The Convention of Cintra--The Expeditions to Portugal and Spain--The Quarrel of Lord Castlereagh and Mr. Canning--The Malady of George III.--Proceedings for the establishment of the Regency. The Volumes also comprise the Private Correspondence of Lord Grenville, when, Secretary of State and First Lord of the Treasury--of the Right Hon. Thomas Grenville, when President of the Board of Control and First Lord of the Admiralty--of the Duke of Wellington, during his early Campaigns in the Peninsula; with numerous confidential communications from George III., the Prince of Wales, Lords Castlereagh, Elgin, Hobart, Camden, Essex, Carysfort, Melville, Howick, Wellesley, Fitzwilliam, Temple, Buckingham, Mr. Fox, Mr. Wyndham, &c. &c. N.B.--A FEW COPIES OF THE FIRST AND SECOND VOLUMES OF THIS WORK MAY STILL BE HAD. "These volumes contain much valuable matter. There are three periods upon which they shed a good deal of light--the formation of the Coalition Ministry in 1783, the illness of the King in 1788, and the first war with Republican France."--_Times._ "A very remarkable and valuable publication. In these volumes the most secret history of many important transactions is for the first time given to the public."--_Herald._ HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. * * * * * Transcriber's note: Mismatched quotation marks in one paragraph of Chapter I were left as in the original. 
38632	----	public domain material generously made available by the Google Books Library Project (http://books.google.com/) Note: Project Gutenberg has the other two volumes of this work. Volume I: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38631 Volume III: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38633 Images of the original pages are available through the the Google Books Library Project. See http://books.google.com/books?vid=ASYCAAAAYAAJ&id THE MONARCHS OF THE MAIN; Or, Adventures of the Buccaneers. by GEORGE W. THORNBURY, ESQ. "One foot on sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never." MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. In Three Volumes. VOL. II. London: Hurst and Blackett, Publishers, Successors to Henry Colburn, 13, Great Marlborough Street. 1855. London: Sercombe and Jack, 16 Great Windmill Street. CONTENTS OF VOL. II. CHAPTER I.--SIR HENRY MORGAN. Son of a Welsh farmer--Runs to sea--Turns Buccaneer--Joins Mansvelt and takes the Island of St. Catherine--Mansvelt dies--St. Catherine re-taken by the Spaniards--Morgan takes Port au Prince--Quarrel of French and English adventurers about a marrow-bone--Takes Porto Bello--Captures _Le Cerf Volant_, a French vessel--It blows up--Takes Maracaibo---City deserted--Tortures an Idiot beggar--Le Picard, his guide--Takes Gibraltar--Also deserted--Tortures the citizens--With a Fire-ship destroys the Spanish fleet and repasses the bar--Escapes the fort by a stratagem--The Rancheria expedition--Sails for Panama--Captain Bradley takes the Castle of Chagres--Anecdote of a wounded Buccaneer 1 CHAPTER II.--CONQUEST OF PANAMA. March from Chagres over the Isthmus--Famine--Ambuscades of Indians--Wild bulls driven down upon them--Victory in the Savannah--Battle of the Forts--Takes the city--Burns part of it--Cruelties--Revels--Virtue of the Spanish prisoner, and her sufferings--Retreats with prisoners--Ransom--Divisions of booty--Treason of Morgan--Escapes by night to Jamaica--Dispersion of his fleet--Morgan's subsequent fate 125 CHAPTER III.--THE COMPANIONS AND SUCCESSORS OF MORGAN. Oexmelin's interview with the old Buccaneer--Adventure with Indians--Esquemeling's escapes--D'Ogeron's escape from the Spaniards--Buccaneers' fight in Tobago against the Dutch--Captain Cook captures a Spanish vessel--Captains Coxen and Sharp begin their cruise 189 CHAPTER IV.--THE CRUISES OF SAWKINS AND SHARP. The South sea now visited--Buccaneers land at Darien--March overland--Take Santa Maria--Sail to Panama--Ringrose is wrecked--Failure of Expedition--Driven off by Spanish fleet--Partial victory--Coxen accused of cowardice--Sharp elected commander, deposed--Plunder Hillo and take La Serena--Take Arica--Sharp re-elected--Retreat with difficulty--Conspiracy of the prisoners--Land at Antigua--Return to England--Sharp's trial for piracy--Seizes a French ship in the Downs--Returns to Jamaica 215 CHAPTER V.--DAMPIER'S VOYAGES. Dampier leaves Captain Sharp--Land march over the Isthmus--Joins Captain Wright--Wreck of D'Estrèes and the French fleet--Returns to England--Second voyage--With Captain Cook--Guinea coast--Visits Juan Fernandez--Takes Ampalla--Plunders Paita--Scheme for working the Spanish mines--Attacks Manilla Galleon--Captain Swan--Dampier's death unknown--Van Horn, a Dutch sailor--Entraps the Galleons--Takes Vera Cruz--Killed in a duel with De Graff--His Dress 277 MONARCHS OF THE MAIN. CHAPTER I. SIR HENRY MORGAN. Son of a farmer--Runs to sea--Turns Buccaneer--Joins Mansvelt, and takes the Island of St. Catherine--Mansvelt dies--St. Catherine retaken by the Spaniards--Takes Port-au-Prince--Quarrel of French and English Buccaneers about a marrow-bone--Takes Porto Bello--Captures _Le Cerf Volant_, a French vessel--It blows up--Takes Maracaibo--City deserted--Tortures an Idiot--Le Picard--Storms Gibraltar--Also deserted--Tortures the Citizens--With a Fire-ship destroys Spanish fleet, and repasses the Bar--Escapes by stratagem--Rancheria expedition--Sails for Panama--Captain Bradley takes the Castle of Chagres--Anecdote of wounded Buccaneer. Morgan's campaigns furnish one of the amplest chapters of Buccaneer history. Equally daring, but less cruel than Lolonnois, less fanatical than Montbars, and less generous and honest than De Lussan or Sharp, he appears to have been the only freebooting leader who obtained any formal recognition from the English government. From an old pamphlet, we find, that the expedition to Panama was undertaken under the commission and with the full approbation of the English governor of Jamaica. Sir Henry Morgan was the son of a Welsh farmer, of easy circumstances, "as most who bear that name in Wales are known to be," says Esquemeling, his Dutch historian. Taking an early dislike to the monotonous, unadventurous life of his father's house, he ran away from home, and, coming to the coast, turned sailor, and went to sea. Embarking on board a vessel bound for Barbadoes, that lay with several others in the port, he engaged himself in the usual way to a planter's agent, who resold him for three years immediately on his arrival in the West Indies. Having served his time and obtained his hard-earned liberty, he repaired to Jamaica, a place of which wild stories were told all over the Main. He resolved to seek his fortune at that El Dorado, and arriving there, saw two Buccaneer vessels just fitting out for an expedition. Being now in search of employment, and finding this suit his daring and restless spirit, he determined to embrace the life of a Flibustier. The gentlemen of fortune were successful, and had not been long at sea before they took a valuable prize. This early success was as fatal to Morgan as good luck is to a young gambler on his first visit to a hell. It roused his ambition, heightened his hope, and encouraged him to continue a career so auspiciously begun. He followed the Buccaneer chiefs, and learnt their manners of living. In the course of only three or four voyages, he signalized himself so much as to acquire the reputation of a good soldier, remarkable for his valour and success. He was a good shot, and renowned for his intrepidity, coolness, and determination. He seemed to foresee all contingencies, and set about his schemes with a firm confidence that insured their success. Having already laid by much money, and being fortunate both in his voyages and in gambling, Morgan agreed with a few rich comerades to join stock, and to buy a vessel, of which he was unanimously appointed commander. Such was the usual beginning of an adventurer's career. Setting out from Jamaica, he soon became remarkable for the number of prizes which he took, his well known stations being round the coast of Campeachy. With these prizes he returned triumphantly to Jamaica, his name established as a terror to the Spaniard, and a war-cry to the English. Finding Mansvelt, an old Buccaneer, lying in harbour, about to start on a grand expedition to the mainland, he joined him, and was at once elected as vice-admiral of a small fleet of fifteen vessels and 600 men, part English and part French. They sailed first to the island of St. Catherine, near the continent of Costa Rica, and distant about thirty-five degrees from the river of Chagres. Here they made their first descent, and found the Spaniards well entrenched in forts, strongly built of hewn stone, but landing most of their men they soon forced the garrisons to surrender. Morgan distinguished himself remarkably in this expedition, forcing even his very enemies to laud his skill and valour. He now proceeded to demolish all the castles but one, in which he placed 100 men, and the slaves and prisoners, and proceeded to attack a small neighbouring island. In a few days they threw over a bridge to join it to St. Catherine's, and conveyed over it all the larger ordnance which they had taken, laying waste their first conquest with fire and sword. They then set sail again, having first set their prisoners ashore near Portobello, intending to cruise along Costa Rica, as far as the river Colla, and burn and pillage all the towns up to Nata. They had, in fact, only taken the island in order to procure a guide who could lead them on their way to Nata, knowing that the Spaniards used St. Catherine's as a depôt for their prisoners of all nations. The first step towards a Buccaneer expedition was to procure a guide. They found, to their delight, a mulatto who knew Nata, and who undertook to lead them to the destruction of a people whom he hated. It is probable, too, that Mansvelt had already projected founding a colony at St. Catherine's, which might be neither dependent on the French nor the English. But their schemes were frustrated, for the governor of Panama, hearing of their approach, and of their past success, advanced to meet them with a body of men, and compelled them to retreat suddenly, for the whole country was now alarmed and their plans all known. Morgan, however, seeing St. Catherine's to be a well-fortified island, easily defended, and important as to situation, because its harbour was good and near the Spanish settlements, resolved to hold it, appointing as governor Le Sieur Simon, a Frenchman, whom he left behind, with a garrison of 100 men. St. Simon had behaved well in his absence, and put the island in a good posture of defence, had strengthened the four large forts, and turned the smaller island into a citadel, guarding carefully the three accessible spots, planting vegetables and clearing plantations in the smaller island, where abundance of fresh water could be procured, providing victual enough for the fleet for two voyages. The two commanders now determined to return to Jamaica, promising to send recruits to Simon, for fear of an invasion, and themselves to bring speedy succours, intending to make the island a sanctuary and refuge for the brotherhood of both nations. The governor of Jamaica refused to accede to Mansvelt's requests for soldiers, afraid to weaken the forces of the island without permission from England. Mansvelt, worn out with delay, hastened to Tortuga, and died while collecting volunteers, his plans being still in embryo. Had his scheme succeeded, and been pushed with energy, the Buccaneers might have founded a republic, and have eventually driven the Spaniards out of the Indies. While Simon was impatiently expecting succour from Jamaica, and astonished at Mansvelt's really unavoidable silence, the Spaniards were preparing to smoke out the wasps' nest that lay so dangerously near their orchard. A new governor of Costa Rica threw unusual decision into their plans. Fearing they should lose the Indies piecemeal, they resolved to crush the evil ere it grew indestructible. Don Juan Perez de Guzman equipped a fleet of four vessels with fifty or sixty men each, commanded by Don Joseph Sancho Ximenes, major-general of the garrison of Porto Bello. Don Juan, in a letter to Simon, promised him a reward if he would surrender the island to his Catholic Majesty, and threatened him with punishment if he resisted. Simon, seeing the impossibility and uselessness of resistance, surrendered it after a few shots, on the same condition with which Morgan had obtained it from the enemy. The Spaniards made much of their victory, publishing "a true relation and particular account of the victory obtained by the arms of his Catholic Majesty, against the English pirates, by the direction and valour of Don Juan Perez de Guzman, knight of the order of St. James, governor and captain-general of Terra Firma, and the province of Veraguas." The account goes on to describe the arrival of fourteen English vessels on the coast, 1665, their arrival at Puerto de Naos, and the capture of St. Catherine's from the governor, Don Estevan del Campo, the enemy landing unperceived. Upon this the valorous Don Juan called a council of war, wherein he declared the great progress the said pirates had made in the dominions of his Catholic Majesty, and propounded, "that it was absolutely necessary to send some forces to the isle of St. Catherine, sufficient to retake it from the pirates, the honour and interest of his Majesty of Spain being very narrowly concerned herein, otherwise the pirates, by such conquests, might _easily_, in course of time, possess themselves of 'all the countries thereabout.'" The less vapouring, or more pacific, ingeniously proposed to leave the pirates alone till they perished for want of provisions, but Don Juan, overruling their timidity, sent stores to the militia of Porto Bello, and conveyed himself there, with no small danger of his life. At this port he found the _St. Vincent_, a good ship, belonging to the Negro Company, which he equipped with a crew of 270 soldiers, thirty-seven prisoners, thirty-two of the Spanish garrison, twenty-nine mulattos of Panama, twelve Indian archers, seven gunners, two lieutenants, two pilots, a surgeon, and a Franciscan chaplain. Before they set sail, Don Juan (_who did not go with them_) encouraged them to fight against the enemies of their country and their religion, "those inhuman pirates who had committed so many horrid cruelties upon the subjects of his Catholic Majesty," promising liberal rewards to all who behaved themselves well in the service of their king and country. At Carthagena, they received a reinforcement of one frigate, one galleon, a boat, and 127 men. On arriving at the island, the pirates discharged three guns, refused to surrender, and declared they preferred to lose their lives. The next day three negro deserters, swimming to the admiral, told him there were only seventy-two men on the island, and two days after the day of the Assumption the Spaniards landed and commenced the affray. The _St. Vincent_ attacked the Conception battery, the _St. Peter_ the St. James's forts, the pirates driving off many of the enemy by loading their guns with part of the pipes of a church organ, threescore pipes at a time. The pirates lost six men before surrendering, the Spaniards one. They found in the island 800 lbs. of powder, and 250 lbs. of bullets. Two Spanish deserters, discovered amongst the prisoners, were "shot to death" the next day. The prisoners were transported to Puerto Velo, all but three, who, by order of the governor, were kept as a trophy, like chained Samsons, to work in the castle of St. Jerome at Panama, a fortress building by the governor at his own expense. A day or two after this unavoidable surrender, a vessel arrived at St. Catherine, bringing reinforcements and provisions from the governor of Jamaica, who had repented of his rejection of Mansvelt's proposal, but had not even yet the courage to be boldly dishonest. The Spaniards, hoisting an English flag, persuaded Simon to welcome it, and betray it into their hands. There were fourteen men on board and two women, all of whom were made prisoners. On the death of Mansvelt, Morgan became without opposition the leader of all the adventurers of Jamaica. He at once published far and wide his intention of setting out on a grand expedition, and named Cuba as a rendezvous, St. Catherine's not being far distant. Morgan had been no less anxious than Mansvelt to make this island a fortress and a storehouse. He had written to the merchants of Virginia and New England, to contract with them for ammunition and provisions; but this hope being ended by the Spanish conquest, he felt himself free to embark on a wider and more ambitious field. His plans were for a moment defeated, but his courage and ambition were not a whit humbled. Two months spent in the southern ports of Cuba sufficed him to collect a fleet of twelve sail, with 700 fighting men, part English, part French, resolved to follow him to the death. To prevent the disunion so frequent between the two nations, Morgan had a clause inserted in the charter-party, empowering him to condemn to instant death any adventurer who killed or wounded another. A council was then called to decide on what place they should first fall. Some proposed Santiago, which had been before sacked, others a swoop on the tobacco of the Havannah, or the dye-woods of Campeachy. Many voices were strong for a night assault on the Havannah, which, they said, could be taken before the castle could be ready to defend itself. The very ransom of the clergy they might carry off, would be worth more than the pillage of a smaller town. But some Buccaneers, who had been prisoners there, said nothing could be done with less than 1500 men, and the proposal was abandoned, when they proved that they must first go to the island de los Pinos, and land in small boats at Matamana, fourteen leagues from the city. At last some one proposed a visit to Port-au-Prince, a town of Cuba, very rich from its traffic in hides, and which, being far inland and built on a plain, could be very easily surprised. The speaker knew the city well, and was sure that it never had been sacked. Despairing of collecting forces enough to attempt the Havannah, they pursued the Spaniard's plan. Morgan at once acceded to this scheme, and, giving the captain the signal of weighing anchor, steered for Port St. Mary, the nearest harbour to Port-au-Prince. The night of their arrival in the bay a Spanish prisoner threw himself into the sea, and swimming on shore went to inform the governor of the Buccaneers' plans, having, with a scanty knowledge of English, gathered a full insight, deeper than history tells us, of Morgan's intentions. The governor instantly sent to the neighbouring town for succour, and collected, in a few hours, a force of 800 armed freemen and slaves, occupying a pass which the Buccaneers must traverse. He cut down the trees, barricaded the approaches, and planned eight ambuscades, strengthened by cannon to play upon them on their march. He then marched out into a savannah, where he might see the Buccaneers at a long distance. The townsmen, in the meanwhile, prepared for the worst with the usual timidity of the rich, hiding their riches and carrying away their movables. The adventurers, on entering the place, found the paths almost impassable with trees, but, supposing themselves discovered, took to the woods, and thus fortunately escaped the ambuscade. The governor, seeing the enemy, to his astonishment, emerge from the trees into the plain, instantly ordered his cavalry to surround them as he would have done a troop of wolves, intending to disperse them first with his horse and then pursue them with his main body. The Buccaneers, nothing daunted by the flashing of the spears or the tramp of the horsemen, advanced boldly, with drums beating and colours displayed. They drew up in a semicircle to receive the charge, and advanced swiftly towards the enemy, not waiting to be attacked. The Spaniards charged them hotly for a while, but, finding their enemies dexterous at their arms, moving their feet forward rather than backward; and seeing their governor and many of their companions dead at their feet, fled headlong to the town; those who escaped towards the wood were killed before they could reach it. The Buccaneers with few men either killed or wounded, advancing still in their phalanx, killed without mercy all they met, for the space of the four hours that the fight lasted. The fugitives of the town barred themselves in their houses and kept up a fire from the windows and loopholes. The shots from the roofs and balconies still continuing, though the town was taken, the Buccaneers threatened, if the firing did not cease, to set the town in a flame, and cut the women and children in pieces before the eyes of the survivors. Having thus silenced all resistance, Morgan drove all his prisoners, men, women, children, and slaves, into the cathedral, where he placed a guard. He then gave the town over to pillage, for the benefit of his joint-stock company, finding much that was valuable, but little money, so skilful had the Spaniards grown in hiding. Parties were next sent out, as usual, to plunder the suburbs, and bring in provisions and prisoners for the torture. The revelry then began, while the prisoners were allowed to starve in the churches; old women and children were daily tortured to make them disclose where their money was hidden. The monks had been the first to fly from the English heretics, but bands of them were frequently captured in the woods, and thrown, half dead with fear, to confess the dying in the prisons. When pillage and provisions grew scanty, and they themselves began to feel the privations they had inflicted on others, the Buccaneers resolved to depart, after fifteen days' residence, a favourite time with the brotherhood. They now demanded a double ransom of their chief prisoners; first, for themselves, under pain of being transported to Jamaica; and secondly, for the town, or it would be burned to the ground. Four merchants were chosen to collect the contributions, and some Spaniards were first tortured in their presence, to increase the zeal of their applications. After a few days, they returned empty-handed, and demanded a respite of fifteen days, which Morgan granted. They had searched all the woods, they said, and found none of their countrymen. Delay now grew dangerous--a party of foragers had captured a negro, with letters from the governor of Santiago, telling the citizens not to make too much haste to pay the ransom, but to put off the pirates with excuses till he could come to their aid. Enraged at what he deemed treachery, Morgan swore he would have no more delay, and would burn the town the next day if the ransom was not paid down, but not alluding to the detected letter, and betraying no apprehension. Still unable to obtain money, Morgan consented to take 500 oxen, which he insisted on the Spaniards placing on board his ships at Port-au-Prince, together with salt enough to "powder" them, needing the flesh to re-victual for a fresh and more profitable expedition. The same day Morgan left the city, taking with him six of the principal citizens as hostages. The next day came the cattle, but he now required the Spaniards to assist him in killing and salting them. This was done in a great hurry, Morgan expecting every moment the Santiago vessels would appear in sight. As soon as the butchering was completed he released his hostages and set sail, unwilling to fight when nothing could be gained by victory. At this juncture, the smouldering jealousy of the two nations that formed his crews broke into a flame. The grudges of the last voyage had been perpetuated, and had grown into a deep and lasting feud, producing ultimately a disunion fatal to all increase of the power of the brotherhood of the coast. While the prisoners were toiling at salting the beeves, the sailors employed themselves in drinking and rejoicing at their success, cooking the richest morsels while they were still fresh, and all hands intent on securing the hot marrow bones, the favourite delicacy of the hunters of Hispaniola. A Frenchman, employed as one of the butchers, had drawn out the dainty and placed it by his side, as a _bonne bouche_ when his work was over. An English Buccaneer, more hungry than polite, passing by, and knowing no reservation of property in such a republic, snatched up the reeking bone and carried it off. The Frenchman, pursuing him with angry vociferations, challenged him to fight for it, but before they could reach the place of combat, the aggressor stabbed his adversary in the back, and laid him dead on the spot. The Frenchmen, rising in arms, made it a national quarrel, and demanded redress. Morgan, just and impartial by nature and from policy, arrested the murderer and condemned him to be instantly shot, declaring that he had a right to challenge his adversary, but not to stab him treacherously. Oexmelin says, the man was sent in chains to Jamaica (and there tried and hung), Morgan promising to see justice done upon him. The French, however, remained discontented, lamented the fate of their comrade, and vowed revenge. Morgan, not waiting for the governor of Jamaica to share his spoil, sailed to a small island, at some distance, to make the dividend. To the general grief and disgust, they found the whole amounted to only 60,000 crowns, not enough to pay their debts at Jamaica: this did not include the silk stuffs and other merchandise, which gave a poor pittance of 80 crowns to each man, as the return for so much danger and privation. Morgan, as unwilling as the rest to revisit Port Royal empty-handed, proposed a new expedition, in search of a greater prize. But the French, not able to agree with the English, left the fleet, in spite of all their commander's persuasions, but still with every external mark of friendship, entreating to the last to have justice done to the "_infame_." Morgan, who had always placed great reliance on the courage of the French adventurers, was not going to relinquish his new expedition on account of their desertion. He had inspired his men with courage and the hope of acquiring riches, and they all resolved to follow him to the attack of the place, whose name he would not yet disclose, exciting them by a mystery, which prevented the possibility of treachery. He put forth to sea with eight small vessels, but was soon joined by an adventurer of Jamaica, just returning from Campeachy; with this new ally, he had now a force of nine vessels and 470 men, many French being still among them, and arrived at Costa Rica with all his fleet safe. As soon as they sighted land, he disclosed his design to his captains, and soon after to all his seamen. He intended to storm Porto Bello by night, and to put the whole city to the sack: he was confident of success, because no one knew of his secret; although some of his men thought their force too small for such an enterprise. To these Morgan replied, that if their number was small, their courage was great, and the fewer they were the more booty for each, with the greater prospect of union and secresy; and upon this, all agreed unanimously to the design. By good fortune, or by preconcerted arrangement, one of Morgan's crew turned out to be an Englishman who, only a short time before, had been a prisoner at Porto Bello, and his past sufferings now proved to have been the foundation of his future good fortune. Having escaped from that place, he knew every inch of the coast, which had been so painfully impressed on his mind, and Morgan submitted, with perfect confidence, to his guidance. By his advice, they steered straight for the bay of Santa Maria, arriving there purposely about dusk, and reached a spot about twelve leagues from the city, without meeting any vessel. They then sailed up the river to Puerto Pontin, four leagues distant, taking advantage of the land wind that sprang up, cool and fresh, at night. They here anchored, and embarked in boats, leaving a few men to bring on the ships. Rowing softly, they reached about midnight a place called Estera de Longa lemos, where they all landed, and marched upon the outposts of the city. Michael Scott describes Porto Bello as built in a miserable, dirty, damp hole, surrounded by high forest-clad hills, wreathed in mist, and reeking with dirt and fever. Everlasting vapours obscure the sun, and mingle with the exhalation of the steaming marshes of the lead-coloured, land-locked cove that forms the harbour. They were now within reach of the strongest city in the Spanish West Indies, except Havannah and Carthagena, the port of Panama, and the great mart for silver and negroes. Leaving as usual a party to guard the boats, and preceded by their guide, they began halfway to the town to prepare their arms. Upon approaching the first sentinel, Morgan sent forward the guide and three or four others to surprise him. They did it cunningly, before he could fire his musket, and brought him with his hands bound to Morgan, who, threatening him with death, asked him how things in the city went, and what forces they had, making a "thousand menaces to kill him if he did not speak the truth." The terrified Spaniard informed them that the town was well garrisoned, but that there were very few inhabitants; the merchants only residing in the town while the galleons are loading, and that he would be able to take the place in spite of all the fortresses and the 300 soldiers. Morgan then pushed on to the fort, carrying the man bound before them, and after a quarter of a league reached the castle, where the man's company was stationed, closely surrounding it, so that no one could get in or go out. The prisoner had in vain attempted to avoid this redoubt, to which he had served as picket, encouraged by Morgan's promises of reward, and avowal that he would not give him up to his countrymen. The Spaniards, finding the sentinel gone, had already spread the alarm of the Buccaneers' approach. From beneath the walls Morgan commanded the sentinel to summon the garrison to surrender at once to his discretion, or they should be cut in pieces without quarter. Not regarding these threats, the Spaniards began instantly to discharge their guns and muskets to alarm the town and obtain succour. But though they made a good resistance they were soon overpowered, and the Buccaneers, driving them into one room, set fire to the powder which lay about on the floor, and blew the tower and its defenders together into the air; all the survivors they put to the sword, in order to strike terror in the city. At daybreak they fell upon the city, and found the inhabitants, some still asleep and others scared and alarmed; many had thought of nothing but hiding their treasure, and only the professional soldier prepared for resistance. The governor, unable to rally the citizens, fled into the citadel, and fired upon the town as well as the enemy. The frightened herd, stupid with fear, were throwing their money and jewels into wells and cisterns, or burying their treasure in their courtyards, cellars, gardens, and chapels. The adventurers, abstaining from pillage, sent a chosen party to the convents to make prisoners of the religious, male and female; while another division prepared ladders to escalade the fort, not relaxing for a moment either in attack or defence. They attempted in vain to burn down a castle-gate which proved to be of iron, and baffled their efforts, and kept up a warm fire at the embrasures, aiming with such dexterity at the mouths of the guns as to kill a gunner or two every time the pieces were either run out or loaded. The firing continued from daybreak till noon, and even then the result seemed doubtful, for when the adventurers approached the walls with their grenades to burn the doors the defenders threw down upon them earthen pots full of powder, and lighted by a fusee, together with showers of stones and other missiles. Morgan himself began to despair of success, and did not know how to escape from that strait, when the English flag arose above the smaller fort, and a troop of men ran forth to proclaim victory with shouts of joy. The remaining castle, however, was the _pièce de resistance_, being the storehouse of the church plate, and the wealth of the richer citizens now with the garrison. A stratagem was suggested, appealing strongly to Spanish superstition, and, as it happened, successfully. Ten or twelve ladders were made so broad and strong that three or four men might mount them abreast. To all threats the governor replied he would never surrender alive, although the religious should themselves plant the ladders. The monks and nuns were then dragged to the heads of the companies, and forced to plant the ladders, in spite of the hot rain of fire and shot; the governor "using his utmost endeavours to destroy all who came near the walls, firing on the servants of God, although his kinsmen, and prisoners, and forced to the service. Delicate women and aged men were goaded at the sword's point to this hateful labour, derided by the English, and unpitied by their countrymen." All this time the Buccaneers maintained an unceasing fire along the whole line of grey battlements at every aperture where a pike head glittered or a lighted match smouldered; suffering much in return, unarmed as they were, guarded neither by steel-cap nor cuirass, and unsheltered by palisade or earthwork. In spite of the cries of the religious as they reared the ladders, their prayers to the saints, and their entreaties to the garrison to remember their common blood and nation, many of the priests were shot before the walls could be scaled. The more superstitious of the Spaniards were unnerved at hearing the dying curse of the consecrated servants of God, rising shrill above the roar of the battle. The ladders were at last planted, amid a shower of fire-pots that killed almost as many of the Spaniards as the English, and the Buccaneers sprang up with all the agility of sailors and the determination of Berserkers; their best marksmen shooting down the few Spaniards who awaited their arrival at the summit. Their falling bodies struck a few Buccaneers from their ladders. Every man that went up carried hand grenades, pistols, and sabre, but the musket was now laid aside, for it had done its work, and was a mere encumbrance in the grapple of closer combat. The English swarmed up in great numbers, and reaching the top kindled their fusees and threw down their fire-pots upon the crowded ranks of the enemy, with destructive effect. Before they could recover their dismay, sabre in hand, as if they were boarding, they leaped down upon the garrison, who drove them off with pikes and clubbed muskets, and, closing with them, hurled many from the ramparts, or, stabbing them, fell clenched with the foe in their despair. When their cannon was taken, the Spaniards threw down their arms and begged for quarter, except the governor and a few officers, who determined to die fighting against the robbers and heretics, the enemies of God and Spain. The Buccaneers, seeing the red flag flying from the first fort, which was the strongest, and built on an eminence which commanded the towers below, advanced with confidence to the attack of the remaining one, hitherto thought impregnable, which defended the port, and prevented the entrance of their vessels, which they wished to secure safe in the harbour, as the number of their wounded would require their long stay in the place they had captured. The governor, proud and brave, still refused to surrender, and fired upon them with his cannon, which were soon silenced by the superior fire of the newly-taken fort, which flanked his position. Out of this last stronghold, the weary and despairing defenders were quickly driven. Major Castellon, the stout-hearted governor, disdaining to ask quarter of a pack of heretic seamen, killed several of his own men who would not stand to their arms and called on him to save their lives, and struck down many of the hunters who tried to take him alive, not from a generous compassion, for pity seldom entered a Buccaneer's heart, but in order to obtain his ransom. A still more cruel trial of his courage, and duty to his king, awaited him: his wife and children fell at his knees, and, with cries and tears, begged him to lay down his arms and save both their lives. But he obstinately and sternly refused, replying, "Better this than a scaffold," preferring to die as a valiant soldier at his post, than to be hanged as a coward for deserting it. He died the death of a brave man, fighting desperately, and was found buried under the bodies of his dead enemies. If unpitied by his ferocious foes, he has left a name to be honoured by all brave men, as one worthy of a more chivalrous age, and a better cause. It now being nearly sunset, and the city their own, the adventurers enclosed all their prisoners in the citadel, separating the wounded, and, although heedless of their sufferings, employing the female slaves to wait upon them. It now being nearly night, they gave way to all the excesses of soldiers in a town taken by storm, exasperated by the recollection of past danger, and the death of friends, and maddened by both the certainty of present pleasure and the power of indulging in every success. Oexmelin says, fifty brave Spaniards might have put all the revellers to death, and recovered the place. We do not, however, hear that a single Spanish Jael was found to revenge herself on these modern Siseras. The following morning Morgan summoned his vessels into the harbour, and collecting all the loose wealth of the town, had it brought into the fort. Directing the repairs of the ramparts, scorched and shattered, he remounted the guns, in order to be ready to repel any attack from Panama. He collected a few of the prisoners who had been persuaded to say they were the richest merchants in Porto Bello, and put all who would not confess to the torture. He maimed some and killed others, who remained silent because they were in reality poor, and had concealed no treasure. Having spent fifteen days in these alternate cruelties and debaucheries, Morgan resolved to retreat. No Buccaneer general had ever taken a city which could not be stripped clean in fourteen days. Famine and disease began ungratefully to take the part of the Spaniard against the nation that had fed them with so many victims. Wild waste compelled them already to devour their mules and horses, rather than die of hunger, or turn cannibals. Parties of hunters were sent into the suburbs to hunt the cattle, whose flesh they then devoured, saving the mules for the prisoners, who, between their wounds and their hunger, were reduced to dreadful extremities. A death more terrible than that of a blow in battle now appeared in their midst. Many had already died victims of excess, and even the most prudent perished. The bad food, the sudden transition from excess to want, and the impurity of the tainted air, produced a pestilence. The climate of Porto Bello, always unhealthy, as Hosier's squadron afterwards experienced, was poisoned by the putrefaction of the dead bodies, hastily buried, and scarcely covered by earth. The wounded nearly all sickened, and the intemperate were the first to die. The prisoners, crowded together, and already weakened mentally by despondency, and physically by famine, soon caught the fever, and died with dreadful rapidity. Rich merchants, accustomed to every luxury, and to the most varied and seasoned food, pined under a diet of half-putrid mule's flesh, and bad, unfiltered water. Everything warned Morgan that it was time to weigh anchor, for the president of Panama was already on his march towards the city at the head of 1500 men. Informed of their approach from a slave captured by a hunting party, Morgan held a council, at which it was agreed not to retreat until they had obtained a ransom for the town greater than the spoil at present collected; and, in order to prevent a surprise, he placed a body of 100 well-armed men in a narrow defile, where but a few men could go abreast, and through which the president must pass. They found that that general had fewer troops with him than was reported, and these took flight at the first encounter, and did not attempt again to force a passage, but waited for reinforcements. The president, with the usual gasconade of a Spaniard, sent word to Morgan, that if he did not at once leave Porto Bello he should receive no quarter when he should take him and his companions, as he hoped soon to do. To this, Morgan, knowing he had a sure means of escape, said he should not leave till he had received 180,000 pieces of eight as a ransom for the city, and if he could not get this he should kill all his prisoners, blow up the castle, and burn the town, and two men were sent by him to the president to procure the money. The president, seeing that nothing could either deceive or intimidate Morgan, gave up Porto Bello to its fate, not caring to erect a silver bridge for a flying enemy. In vain he sent to Carthagena for a fleet to block up the ships in the river; in vain he kept the citizens in suspense as to the money, in hopes of gaining time. He was deaf and obdurate to all the entreaties of the citizens, who sent to inform him that the pirates were not men but devils, and that they fought with such fury that the Spanish officers had stabbed themselves, in very despair, at seeing a supposed impregnable fortress taken by a handful of people, when it should have held out against twice the number. Don Juan Perez de Guzman, the president, a man of "great parts," and who had attained high rank in the war in Flanders, expressed himself, with candour, as astonished at the exploits of 400 men (not regular soldiers) who, with no other arms but their muskets, had taken a city which any general in Europe would have found necessary to have blockaded in due form. He gave the people of Porto Bello, at the same time, leave to compound for their safety, but offered them no aid to insure it. To Morgan himself he could not refrain from expressing astonishment. He admired his success, with no ordnance for batteries, and against the citizens of a place who bore the reputation of being good soldiers, never wanting courage in their own defence. He begged, at the same time, that he would send him some small pattern of the arms wherewith he had, with such vigour, taken so great a city. Morgan received the messenger with great kindness and civility, flattered by the compliment from an enemy, and glad of an opportunity of expressing contempt of any assailants. He took a hunter's musket from one of his men, and sent it, together with a handful of Buccaneer bullets, to the president, begging him to accept it as a small pattern of the arms wherewith he had taken Porto Bello, hoping he would keep it a twelvemonth or two, at which time he hoped to visit Panama and fetch it away. The Spaniard, astonished at the wit and civility of the captain, whom he had deemed a mere brutal sea thief, sent a messenger to return the present, as he did not need the loan of weapons, but thanking Morgan and praising his courage, remarking at the same time that it was a pity that such a man should not be employed in a just war, and in the service of a great and good prince, and hoping, in conclusion, that he would not give himself the trouble of coming to see him at Panama, as he would not fare there so well as he had done at Porto Bello. Having delivered this message, so chivalrous in its tone, the messenger presented Morgan with a beautiful gold ring, set with a costly emerald, as a remembrance of his master Don Guzman, who had already supplied the English chief with fresh provisions. Having now provided himself with all necessaries, and stripped the unfortunate city of almost everything but its tiles and its paving stones, carried off half of the castle guns and spiked the rest, he then set sail, taking on board the ransom, which was punctually paid in the shape of silver bars. Corn seldom grew where his foot had once been, and he left behind him famine, pestilence, poverty, and death. Orphans and widows, mutilated men and violated women leaped for joy as his fleet melted into the distance. Setting sail, with great speed, he arrived in eight days at Cuba, where the spoil was divided. They found that they had in gold and silver, whether in coin or bar, and in jewels, which from haste and ignorance were seldom estimated at one-fourth part of their value, to the value of 260,000 pieces of eight. This did not include the silks and merchandise, of which they paid little heed, only valuing coin or bullion, and regarding the richest prize without coin as scarce worth the taking. This division accomplished, to the general satisfaction of all but the people of Porto Bello, who were now poor enough to defy all thieves, they returned at once to Jamaica, where they were magnificently received, Oexmelin says, "_surtout des cabaretiers_." Every door was open to them, and for a whole week all loudly praised their generosity and their courage; at the end of a month, every door was shut in their faces, all but one--the prison for debts, and that closed behind their backs. "They spent in a short time," says one of their historians, "with boundless prodigality, what they had gained with boundless danger and unremitting toil." The people of Tortuga considered them as mere slaves, who dived to get their pearls, and cared not whether they perished by the wave or by the shark, so the pearls which they had gathered could be first secured. "Not long after their arrival in Jamaica," says Esquemeling, "being that short time needed to lavish away all their riches, they concluded on another enterprise to seek new fortunes:" a sailor spends his money quickly, and so does a highwayman--in them both trades were combined. Morgan remained at rest as long as most Buccaneers did, that is to say, till he had drunk out half his money, strung the jewels of Spanish matrons around the necks of the fairest courtesans in Jamaica, and stripped himself at the gambling-table to-day in the hope of recovering the losses of yesterday. As his purse grew thin his heart grew stout, as his hunger grew greater his thirst for blood began also to increase. At last he looked seaward, turned his back on the lotus-land and the sirens, and prepared for sea. His rendezvous this time was fixed in a small island on the south side of Hispaniola, in order to invite both the French hunters and the sailors of Tortuga. By this sign of confidence Morgan hoped to remove all rankling prejudice between the French and English adventurers, and to obtain recruits from both nations. He resolved this time upon an expedition which would enable him and his men to retire from the sea life for ever, or at least to hold a longer revel. The Buccaneers of the coast seeing him always successful, and never returning without booty, less cruel and less rash than Lolonnois, and not only very brave but very fortunate, flocked to his flag almost without a summons. Every one furbished up his musket, cast bullets, bought powder, or fitted up a canoe. Parties were at once despatched to hunt in the savannahs, and to prepare salted meat sufficient for the voyage. Great numbers of French and English crowded to Cow Island. A powerful ally appeared at this crisis, in the shape of a French vessel, _Le Cerf Volant_, of St. Malo, which had come out to the Indies, virtuously intending to trade with the Spaniards, but, finding this difficult or unprofitable, had less virtuously determined to live by plundering them, and was now manned by French adventurers from Tortuga, no friends to Morgan, but anxious to share his booty. The vessel, which had also a long-boat towing at its stern, had a short time before attacked a Genoese ship, trading with negroes, but which, mounting forty-eight cannon, had driven it off, and compelled the captain to return home and refit. The crew seemed unwilling to trust the English, and would not listen to any terms. Morgan, who had just been joined by a ship from New England with thirty-six cannon, longed to add the twenty-four iron guns and the twelve brass ones of _Le Cerf Volant_ to his collection. In spite of his wish to unite the two nations, and close the green and still rankling wound, the temptation was rather too strong for him. His guardian angel slept for a moment, and when she awoke the English flag floated at the Frenchman's peak. The change happened thus: the French captain having refused to join Morgan's expedition, unless he drew up a peculiar charter party opposed to all Buccaneer law, and quarrelling about this, he swore _ventre St. Gris_, he would return to Tortuga, reload his cargo, and return to France. The blow was to be struck now or never. The English part of the St. Malo crew had already deserted to Morgan. Some of these men furnished him with an opportunity of revenge. The merchant captain, unaccustomed to the looseness of Buccaneer discipline, had treated them as sailors, and not as _matelots_ and brothers. They told Morgan, that being short of victual, he had lately stopped an English vessel, and taken provisions by force, paying the commander only with bills of exchange, cashable at Jamaica, and that he carried secretly a Spanish commission, empowering him to plunder the English. These charges, though full of malice, had a specious appearance of truth. The captain had indeed stopped an English vessel, but had paid for all he had taken with honest bills. He did also carry a Spanish commission, having been driven to anchor at the port of Baracoa, on the north-east side of Cuba, where he had obtained letters of marque from the governor, in order to conceal his real errand. Morgan considered this a sufficient pretext, and sounded his crew to ascertain how far they would help him at the moment of need. It was at this very moment of indecision that the New England vessel joined the fleet, and enabled him to bear down any opposition. This ship, which Oexmelin calls the _Haktswort_ (Oxford?) carried a crew of 300 men. It was said to belong to the king of England (Charles II.), and to have been lent by him to the present captain. [A strange, improbable story, unless the English government had really determined to encourage the Buccaneer movement. The _Haktswort_ was really sent by the governor of Jamaica to join the expedition.] With this timely succour Morgan's mind was instantly made up. He asked the St. Malo captain and all his officers to dinner, on board the newly-arrived vessel, and there made them prisoners, without any resistance, away from their crew, and with their ship exposed to an overwhelming fire. He then affected the anger of indignant justice, declared they were robbers, who plundered the English under a commission from the enemy, and came there as mere spies and traitors. Fortunately for him, the English vessel that had been stopped by the St. Malo crew arrived at the very moment to repeat and exaggerate the charge. The ship was now his own, and only God could take it from him. And "God did so," says Esquemeling, who sees a judgment in all misfortunes that befal an enemy, but none in those that befal his friends. Morgan, victorious and exulting, called a council of war, and summoned all his captains to attend him on board his large prize. They praised the vessel, laughed at the tricked Frenchmen, and discussed their plans. They calculated what provisions they had in store, and of what their force was capable. The island of Savona was agreed upon as a rendezvous, as at that east corner of Hispaniola they might lurk and cut off stragglers from the armed Spanish flota, now daily expected. Having completed their arrangements they gave way to pleasure, the real occupation and business of a Buccaneer's life, his toil being only expended to procure the means for pleasure, and time to enjoy it. They began to feast and drink healths, the officers below and the sailors on deck. Prayers for a successful voyage were blended with drunken songs, and unintelligible blasphemies. The captain and the cook were both drunk, the very gunners who discharged a broadside when the toasts were drained, fell senseless beside their smoking guns. Those who could not move slept, those who could walk drank on. By some accident, a spark from a smoking match caught the powder, and in an instant the vessel blew up. In perfect equality all ranks were lifted up towards heaven, in a column of flame, only to fall back again to perish, burnt and helpless, in the sea. More than 350 of the 400 men that formed the crew were drowned. By a singular coincidence, the officers nearly all escaped. The English having their powder stored in the fore part of the vessel, and not in the stern like the French, the sailors only perished; the officers and the St. Malo prisoners who were drinking with them were merely blown, much bruised, into the water. The English adventurers, declaring that the French had set fire to the powder, would have killed them on the spot, but Morgan, not apparently the least chapfallen by the disappointment, sent them all as prisoners to Jamaica. The thirty men, seated in the great cabin at some distance from the main force of the powder, escaped, and many more would have been saved had they been sober. The French prisoners in vain endeavoured to obtain justice in Jamaica, were long detained in confinement, and threatened with death when they demanded a trial. Had Morgan returned unsuccessful they might have perhaps been listened to. Eight days after this loss Morgan commanded his men to collect the floating bodies now putrifying, not to give them Christian burial, but to save the clothes, and to remove the heavy gold rings which the English Buccaneers wore upon their forefingers, abandoning their unsaleable bodies to the birds and to the sharks. Undaunted by this accident, Morgan found he had still a force of fifteen vessels, and 860 men, but his gun ship, the largest of all, only carried fourteen small guns. They now made way to Savona, where all were to repair and careen, and the swift to wait for the slow. Letters were soon placed in bottles, and buried at a spot indicated by a mark agreed on. Coasting Hispaniola, they were detained by contrary winds, and attempted for three weeks in vain to double Cape Lobos. Their provisions ran short, but they were relieved by an English vessel, bound to Jamaica, which had a superfluity for sale. Always seeking for pleasure, though in emergencies capable of the severest self-denials, six or seven of the fleet remained clustering round this vessel to purchase brandy, as eager and thoughtless as stragglers round a vivandière. The more thoughtful and earnest pressed on with Morgan, and, reaching the bay of Ocoa, waited for them there, the men spending their time usefully, as they had agreed before, in hunting, and foraging for water and provisions, killing some oxen and a few horses. Detained here by continued bad weather, Morgan maintained strict discipline, compelling every captain to send, daily, on shore eight men from each ship, making a total force of sixty-four. He also instituted a convoy, or a body of armed men, who attended the hunters as a guard, for they were now near St. Domingo, which was full of Greek soldiers and Spanish matadors. The Spaniards, few in number, did not attack them, but, adopting a Fabian policy, which suited their pride and phlegm, sent for 300 or 400 men to kill all the cattle round the bay. Another party drove all the herds far into the interior, wishing to starve the foe out of the island, knowing that a Buccaneer, pressed by hunger, did not care whether he ate horse, mule, or ass, falling back upon monkeys and parrots, and resorting to sharks' flesh or his own shoes as a last resource. But when the Buccaneers spread further inland, a body of soldiers was despatched to the coast, to practise a stratagem, and to form an ambuscade. The following was their plan, which completely succeeded, but nevertheless ended in the Spaniards' total rout. A band of fifty Buccaneers having resolved to venture further than usual into the woods, a party of Spanish muleteers were ordered to drive the bait, a small herd of cattle, past the shore, where they had landed, pretending to fly when they caught sight of their enemies. When they approached the ambuscade two Spaniards were sent out, carrying a white flag of truce. The Buccaneers, ceasing the pursuit, pushed forward two men to parley. The treacherous Spaniards beseeched them plaintively not to kill their cows, offering to sell them cattle, or furnish them with food. The Buccaneers, with all the good faith of seamen, replied that they would give a crown and a-half for each ox, and that the seller could make his own profit besides on the hide and the tallow. During this time, which was planned to give time for the operation, the Spanish troops were turning the flank of the enemy, and had now surrounded the small band on all sides. They interrupted the conversation by breaking out of the wood, with shots and cries of "_Mata, mata_"--"kill, kill," imagining they could cut to pieces so small a force without a struggle. The Buccaneers, differing from them in opinion, faced about with good heart, threw themselves into a square, and beat a slow retreat to the forest, keeping up a rolling fire from all four sides of their brave phalanx. The Spaniards, considering the retreat a sure proof of despair and fear, attacked them with great courage, but great loss. The Buccaneers losing no men, while the Spaniards fell thick and fast, cried out, in imprudent bravado, that they were only trying to frighten them, and put no balls in their muskets. This jest cost them dear, for the Spaniards had been only aiming high, wishing to kill them on the spot and to make no prisoners. They now tried to maim as well as kill, and soon wounded so many in the legs that the Buccaneers were obliged to retreat to a clump of trees, where they stood at bay, and from whence the Spaniards did not dare to beat them. They then began to prepare to carry off their dead and wounded to the vessels, but seeing a small party of Spaniards piercing one of the bodies with their swords, they fired upon them, charged them, and drove them off, tracking their way by their dead, and then retreated, killing the cattle and bearing them off in sorrowful triumph to their vessels. The very next day, at the first light, Morgan, furious to revenge this treachery of the Spaniards, landed himself at the head of 200 men, and entered the woods, visiting the scene of the last night's skirmish. But the Spaniards had long since fled, discovering that in driving cattle towards the shore as a lure for the Buccaneer, they only brought destruction upon themselves, and a dangerous enemy nearer to their homes and treasures. Morgan, finding his search useless, returned to his ship, having first burned down all the deserted huts he could find: "Returning," says Esquemeling, "somewhat more satisfied in his mind for having done considerable damage to the enemy, which was always his ardent desire." The day after, deciding not to venture an attack upon Bourg d'Asso, Morgan, impatient at the delay of his vessels, resolved to sail without them, and visit Savona, hoping there to meet his lingering companions. Alarming the people of St. Domingo, he coasted round Hispaniola. He determined to wait eight days at Savona, and, weary of rest, still wanting provisions, he sent some boats and 150 men to plunder the towns round St. Domingo, but they, finding the Spaniards vigilant and desperate, gave up the enterprise as hopeless, and returned empty-handed to endure the curses and sneers of their commander. Morgan now held a council of war, for provisions were very scanty and time was going. The eight ships did not arrive, and all agreed, with their seven small vessels and their 300 men, some place of importance might still be taken. Morgan had hitherto resolved to cruise about the Caraccas and plunder the towns and villages, mere hen-roost robbing and footpad work, compared with the enterprise proposed by one of his French captains amid great applause. This captain was Pierre le Picard, the _matelot_ of the famous Lolonnois when he took Maracaibo: he it was who had steered the vessels over the bar, and had served both as pilot at sea and guide on land; he reefed and fought, and could handle a rope as well as a musket. He now proposed a second attack upon the same place, and, with all the rude eloquence of sincerity, proved the facility of the attempt, and the riches that lay within their reach. As he spoke good English that could be understood by all, and was, moreover, much esteemed by Morgan, the scheme for a new campaign was at once rapturously approved. He disclosed in the council all the entries, passages, forces, and means. A charter-party was drawn up, containing a clause, that if the rest of the fleet joined them before they had taken a fortress, they should be allowed to share like the rest. Having left a letter at Savona, buried in the usual way, the Buccaneers set sail for Curaçoa, stopping after some days' sail at the island of Omba, to take in water and provisions. This place was distant some twelve leagues from Maracaibo. Here they stayed twenty-four hours, buying goats of the natives for hanks of thread and linen. Sheep, lambs, and kids were the only products of the island, which abounded with spiders whose bite produced madness, unless the sufferer was tied hands and feet, and left without food for a night and a day. The fleet set sail in the night, to prevent the islanders discovering the object of their voyage. The next morning they sighted the small islands that lie at the entrance of the lake of Maracaibo, anchoring out of sight of the Vigilia, in hopes to escape notice, but were observed by the sentries, whose signal gave the Spaniards ample time for defence. The fleet remained becalmed, unable to reach the bar till four o'clock in the afternoon. The canoes were instantly manned, in order to take the Bar Fort, rebuilt since Picard's last visit. Its guns played upon the boats as they pulled to land. Morgan exhorted his men to be brave and not to give way--for he expected the Spaniards would defend themselves desperately, seeing their fire was so rolling and incessant that the fort seemed like the crater of a small volcano, and they could now see that the huts round the wall had been burnt and removed, to leave them no protection or shelter. "The dispute continued very hot, being managed with great courage from morning till dark night." That latterly the fighting died away to occasional shots is evident, for, at six o'clock when it grew dusk, Morgan reconnoitred the fort, and found it deserted. The cessation of the fire had already roused their suspicions. Suspecting treachery, Morgan searched the place to see if any lighted fuses had been placed near the powder, and a division was employed to enter the place before the main body. There was no lack of volunteers for this experimental and cat's-paw work. Morgan himself clambered up first. As they expected, they found a lighted match, and a dark train of powder communicating with the magazine. A little later and the whole band had perished together. Morgan himself snatched up the match. This fort was a redoubt of five toises high, six long, and three round. In the magazine they found 3,000 pounds of gunpowder that would have been wasted had the place been blown up; fourteen pieces of cannon, of eight, twelve, and fourteen pounds calibre, and abundance of fire-pots, hand-grenades, and carcases; twenty-four muskets and thirty pikes and bandoliers had been left by the runaways. The fort was only accessible by an iron ladder, which could be drawn up into the guard-room. But courage requires no ladder, and, like love, can always find out a way. When they had once examined the place, the Buccaneers broke down the parapet, spiked the cannon, threw them over the walls, and burnt the gun-carriages. The Spaniards waited in vain for the roar of their bursting mine. Their own city was rocking beneath their feet; a more dreadful visitation than the earthquake or the hurricane was at their doors. At daybreak the fleet sailed up the lake, the ruined fort smoking behind them. Making great haste, they arrived at Maracaibo the next day, having first divided among themselves the arms and ammunition of the fort. The water being very low and the shoals numerous, they disembarked into their boats, with a few small cannon. From some cavaliers whom they could see on the walls they believed that the Spaniards were fortifying themselves. The Buccaneers therefore landed at some distance from the town, anchoring and disembarking amid discharges of their own cannon, intending to clear the thickets on the shore. Their men they divided into two divisions, in order to embarrass the enemy by a double attack. But these precautions were useless. The timid people had already fled into the woods; only the beggars, who feared no plunderers, and the sick, who were praying for death, remained in Maracaibo. The brave fled with the coward, the monk with the sinner, the thief from the thieves, the soldiers from the seamen, the Catholic from the dreaded Protestant, and the Spaniard from the enemies of his name and race. The sick were expecting death, and cared not if it came by the hand of the doctor or the Buccaneer; the beggar hoped to benefit by those who could not covet, and might pity, their rags. "A few miserable folk, who had nothing to lose," says Esquemeling, "alone remained." Crippled slaves, not worth removing, lay in the streets; the dying groaned untended in the hospital. Children fled from parents, and parents from children; rich old age was left to die in spite of all the inducements of avarice. The prostitute fled to escape dishonour, and the murderer to avoid bloodshed. The houses were empty, the doors open, the chambers stripped of every movable, costly or precious. The first care of the invaders was to search every corner for prisoners, the next to secure, each party as they arrived, the richest palaces for their barracks. The palaces were their dens, the churches their prisons; everything they defiled and polluted, the loathsome things they made still more horrible, the holy they in some degree contaminated. At sea they were brave, obedient, self-denying, religious in formula (half the world goes no further), determined, and irresistible; on land cruel, bloody, rebellious, and ferocious. At sea they exceeded most men in the practice of the sterner virtues, on land they were demons of wrath, devils of drunkenness and lust, mercenaries and outlaws in their bearing and their actions. The three former days of terror had sapped the courage of the bravest, and alarm and fear had, by a common panic, induced the inhabitants to hide the merchandise in the woods. The men who fled had had fathers and children killed and tortured in the first expedition. Friends, still maimed by the rack, increased their fears by their narrations. The Buccaneers seemed a judgment from God, irresistible and unavertable. The desire to defend riches seems to be a weaker principle in the human mind than the desire to obtain them. Great conquerors have generally been poorer than the nations they have conquered. Scarcely any provisions remained in the town. There was no vessel or boat in the port, all had been removed into the wide lake beyond. The small demilune fort, with its four cannon, that was intended to guard the harbour, was also deserted. The richer the man, the further he had escaped inland; the needy were in the woods, the drunken beggars revelled alone in the town, rejoicing in an event that at least made them rich: "It is an ill wind that blows nobody good." The very same day the Buccaneers despatched a body of 100 men to search the woods for refugees, any attempt to secrete treasure being a heavy offence in the eyes of Morgan. These men returned the next evening with thirty prisoners, fifty mules, and several horses laden with baggage and rich merchandise. Both the male and female prisoners seemed poor and worthless. They were immediately tortured, in order to induce them to disclose where their richer and more virtuous fellow citizens were hidden. Morgan, finding none to resist him, quartered his men in the richest houses, selecting the church as their central guard-house and rallying point, their store-room for plunder, their court of justice (blind and with false weights), and their torture-chamber. Some of the prisoners offered to act as guides to places where they knew money and jewels were hidden. As several places were named, two parties went out the same night upon this exciting search. The one party returned on the morrow with much booty, the other did not wander in for two days, having been misled by a prisoner, who, in the hopes of finding means to escape through his knowledge of the country, had led them into such dangerous and uninhabited places that they had had a thousand difficulties in avoiding. Furious at finding themselves mocked by their guide, they hung him on a tree without any parley. In returning they came, however, suddenly upon some slaves who were seeking for food by night, having been hiding in the woods all day. Torture was at once resorted to, to find out where the masters lay, for slaves could not be there alone. The braver of the two suffered the most horrible pain without disclosing a syllable, and was eventually cut to pieces without confessing; the weaker, and perhaps younger negro, endured his sufferings at first with equal fortitude, although he was offered liberty and reward if he would speak. But when the seamen drew their sabres, still red with the blood of his companion, and began to hew and gash his brother's limbs that still lay palpitating on the ground, his courage fell, and he offered to lead them to his master. The Spaniard was soon taken with 30,000 crowns' worth of plate. For eight days the men practised unheard-of cruelties upon the wretched townsmen, already starved and beggared, wretches whose only crime had been their yielding to the natural impulse of self-preservation. They hung them up by their beards and by the hair of their heads, by an arm or a leg; they stretched their limbs tight with cords, and then beat with rattans upon the rigid flesh; they placed burning matches between their fingers; they twisted cords about their heads, tightening the strain by the leverage of their pistol stocks, till the eyes sprang from the sockets. The deathblow was never given from pity, but as the climax and consummation of suffering, and when the executioners were weary of their cruelty. In vain the tortured Spaniards screamed that the treasure was all removed to Gibraltar, and that they were not the rich citizens but very poor men, monks and servants of Jesus, God help them! Many died before the rack could be loosened. Captain Picard, exulting in the success of his expedition, was now very urgent in pressing Morgan to advance on Gibraltar before succours could arrive there from Merida, believing that it would surrender as it had done to Lolonnois. Morgan having in his custody about 100 of the chief families of Maracaibo, and all the accessible booty, embarked eight days after his landing, and proceeded to Gibraltar, hoping to rival Lolonnois in every virtue. His prisoners and plunder went with him, and he determined to hazard a battle. Expecting an obstinate defence, every Buccaneer made his will, consoling himself by the thought of revelry at Jamaica if he was one of those lucky enough to escape. "Death," says Oexmelin, "was never much mixed up in their thoughts, especially when there was booty in view, for if there were only some hopes of plunder they would fight like lions." Before the fleet started, two prisoners had been sent to Gibraltar to warn the governor that Captain Morgan would give him no quarter if he did not surrender. Picard, who remembered the former dangerous spots, made his men land about a quarter of a league from the town, and march through the woods in hopes of taking the Spaniards in the rear, in case they should be again entrenched. The enemy received them with quick discharges of cannon, but the men cheered each other, saying, "We must make a breakfast of these bitter things ere we sup on the sweetmeats of Gibraltar." They landed early in the morning, and found no more difficulty than at Maracaibo. The Spaniards, deceived by a stratagem, had expected their approach by the road, and not by the woods. They had no time to throw up entrenchments, and only a few barricades, planted with cannon, protected their flight. They remembered Lolonnois; their hearts became as water, and they fled as the Buccaneers took peaceable possession of the town. The Spaniards took with them their riches, and all their ammunition, to use at some more convenient period. Morgan, rejoicing in the easy victory, posted his men at the strong points of the town, while 100 men, under Picard, went out to pursue and bring in prisoners. They found the guns spiked, and every house sacked by its owner, much spoiled, much carried off, and the heavy and the worthless alone left. The only inhabitant remaining in the town was a poor half-witted Spaniard, who had not clearly ascertained what he ought to do. He was so well dressed that they at first took him, much to his delight, for a man of rank, and asked him what had become of all the people of Gibraltar. He replied, "they had been gone a day, but he did not know where; he had not asked, but he dare say they would soon be back, and for his part he, Pepé, did not care." When they inquired where the sugar-mills were, he replied that he had never seen any in his life. The church money, he knew, was hid in the sacristy of the great church. Taking them there he showed them a large coffer, where he pretended to have seen it hid. They opened it and found it empty. To all other inquiries he now answered, "I know nothing, I know nothing." Some of the Buccaneers, angry at the disappointment, and vexed at the subtlety of the Spaniards, declared the fellow was more knave than fool, and dragged him to torture. They gave him first the strapado, till he began to wish the people were returned; they then hung him up for two hours with heavy stones tied to his feet, till his arms were dislocated. At last he cried out, "Do not plague me any more, but come with me and I will show you my goods and my riches." He then led them to a miserable hovel, containing only a few earthen pots and three pieces of eight, wrapped in faded finery, buried under the hearth. He then said his name was Don Sebastian Sanchez, brother of the governor of Maracaibo, that he was worth more than 50,000 crowns, and that he would write for it and give it up if they would cease to hang and plague him so. They then tortured him again, thinking he was a grandee in disguise, till he offered, if he was released, to show them a refinery. They had not got a musket-shot from the hut before he fell on his knees and gave himself up as a criminal. "Jesu Maria!" he cried, "what will you do with me, Englishmen? I am a poor man who live on alms, and sleep in the hospital." They then lit palm-leaves and scorched him, and would have burnt off all his clothes had he not been released by one of the Buccaneers who now saw he was an idiot. The poor fellow died in great torment in about half-an-hour, and before he grew cold was dragged into the woods and buried. The following day Picard brought in an old peasant and his two daughters; the old man, his crippled limbs having been tortured, offered to serve as guide, and lead them to some houses in the suburbs. Half blind and frightened, he mistook his way, and the Buccaneers, thinking the error intentional, made a slave, who declared he had intentionally misled them, hang him on a tree by the road side. Slavery here brought its own retribution, for this same slave, burning to avenge some ill treatment he had received, offered, on being made free, to lead them to many of the Spanish places of refuge. Before evening ten or twelve families, with all their wealth, were brought into Gibraltar. It had now become difficult to track the fugitives, as fathers refused even to trust their children; no one slept twice in the same spot, for fear that some one who knew of the retreat would be captured, and then, under torture, betray the spot, generally huts in the darkest recesses of the woods, where their goods were stored from the weather. These exiles were, however, obliged to steal at night to their country houses to obtain food, and then they were intercepted. From some of these merchants Morgan heard that a vessel of 100 tons, and three barges laden with silver and merchandise belonging to Maracaibo, now lay in the river; about six leagues distant, and 100 men were despatched to secure the prize. In scouring the woods again with a body of 200 human bloodhounds, Morgan surprised a large body of Spaniards. Some of these he forced the negro guide to kill before the eyes of the others, in order to implicate him in the eyes of the survivors. After eight days' search the band returned with 250 prisoners, and a long train of baggage mules, bound for Merida. The prisoners were each separately examined as to where the treasure was hid. Those who would not confess, and even those who had nothing to confess, were tortured to death--burnt, maimed, or had their life slowly crushed out of them. Amongst the greatest sufferers in this purgatory on earth was an old Portuguese of venerable appearance, perhaps either a miser or purposely disguised. This man the blood-thirsty negro, now high in favour with the Buccaneers, and trying to rival them in cruelty, declared was very rich. The poor old man, tearing his thin grey hair, swore by the Virgin and all the saints that he had but 100 pieces of eight in the whole world, and these had been stolen from him a few days before, during the general chaos, by a runaway slave. This he vowed on his knees with tears and prayers, doubly vehement when coming from one already on the grave's brink. The cruel slave still looked sneeringly on, and swore he was known to be the richest merchant in all Gibraltar. The Buccaneers then stretched the Portuguese with cords till both his arms broke at the shoulder, and then bound him by the hands and feet to the four corners of a room, placing upon his loins a stone, weighing five cwt., while four men, laughing at his cries, kept the cords that tied him in perpetual motion. This inhuman punishment they called "swimming on land." As he still refused to speak, they held fire under him as he swung groaning, burnt off his beard and moustaches, and then left him hanging while they strapadoed another. The next man they threw into a ditch, after having pierced him with many sword thrusts, for they seem to have been as insatiable for variety of cruelty as they were for cruelty itself. They left him for dead, but he crawled home, and eventually recovered, although several sword blades had passed completely through his body. As for the old Portuguese, his sufferings were far from ended; putting him on a mule they brought him into Gibraltar, and imprisoned him in the church, binding him to a pillar apart from the rest, supplying him with food barely sufficient to enable him to endure his tortures. Four or five days having passed, he entreated that a certain fellow prisoner, whom he named, might be brought to him. This request being complied with, as the first step to obtaining a ransom while he still remained alive, he offered them, through this agent, a sum of 500 pieces of eight. But the Buccaneers laughed at so small a sum, and fell upon him with clubs, crying "500,000, old hunx, and not 500, or you shall not live." After several more days of continued suffering, during which he incessantly protested that he was a poor man and kept a small tavern, the miser confessed that he had a store of 2000 pieces of eight, buried in an earthen jar, and all these, bruised and mutilated as he was and much as he loved money, he gave for his liberty, and a few days more of life. Upon the other prisoners, without regard to age, sex, or rank, they inflicted tortures too disgusting and shocking to mention. Fear, hatred, and avarice generated crimes, till the prisoners grew as vile as their persecutors. A slave, who had been cruelly treated by his master, persuaded the Buccaneers to torture him on the plea that he was very rich, although he was in reality a man of no wealth. The other prisoners, roused from the selfishness of self-preservation by a thrill of involuntary compassion, told Morgan that the Spaniard was a poor man, and that the slave had perjured himself to obtain revenge. Morgan released the Spaniard directly, but he had been already tortured. The slave was given up to his master to be punished by any sort of death he chose to inflict. Handed over to the Buccaneers, he was chopped to pieces in his master's presence, still exulting in his revenge. "This," says Oexmelin, with a cold _naïveté_, "satisfait l'Espagnol, quoyqu'il fust fort mal traité, et en danger d'estre estropié" (this satisfied the Spaniard, though he had been very badly treated, and almost lamed for life). Some of the prisoners were crucified, others were burnt with matches tied between their toes or fingers, many had their feet forced into the fires till they dropped from the leg black and charred. All that the Indians had suffered was now retaliated on the Spaniards. The Buccaneers themselves considered the punishment a vengeance of Providence. The only mercy ever shown to a Spaniard was to end his sufferings by death. The _coup de grace_ was a kindness when it ended the misery of a groaning wretch, bruised and burnt, lying in the hot sun, half mortified, or with his body already paralyzed four or five days since. The masters being all tortured, the slaves next received the strapado. These men, weaker in their moral nature and with no motive for concealment but fear, told everything. Many of the hiding-places were, however, not known to them. One of them, during the fever of his wound, declared he knew where the governor of the town was secreted, with many of the ladies of Gibraltar, and a large portion of the treasure. Threats of death revealed the rest, and he confessed that a ship and four boats, laden with Maracaibo wealth, lay in a river of the lake. The Buccaneers were instantly on their feet. Morgan, with 200 men and the slave guide, set out to capture the governor; and 100 others, in two large _settees_ (boats), sallied out to capture the treasure and the ships. The governor was not easily caught, for it needed a battalion of balloons to surprise him. His first retreat was a fort thrown up in the centre of a small island in the river, two days' march distant. Hearing that Morgan was coming in force, he retreated to the top of an adjoining mountain, into which there was but one ascent, so straight, narrow, and perilous, that it could only be mounted in single file. The expedition altogether broke down, the rock proved inaccessible to any but eagles; a "huge rain" wetted their baggage and ammunition; in fording a river swollen by this "huge rain," many of their female prisoners were lost, and, what they valued more, several mules laden with plate were whirled down the torrents. Many of the women and children sank under the fatigue, and some escaped. Involved in a marshy country, up to their middles in water, the Buccaneers had to toil on for miles. A few lost their lives, others their arms (the means of preserving them). A body of fifty determined men, the Buccaneer historian himself says, could have destroyed the whole body. But the Spaniards were already so paralyzed by fear that they fled at the very rustle of a leaf. Twelve days were spent in this dangerous and useless expedition. Two days after them arrived their comrades, who had been somewhat more successful. The Spaniards had unloaded the vessels, and were beginning to burn them when they arrived, but many bales were left in the haste of flight, and the boats, full of plunder, were brought away in tow. Morgan had now been lord in Gibraltar for five whole weeks, practising all insolences that a conqueror ever inflicts on the conquered; revenging on them the sufferings of the conquest, and trampling them under foot for the very pleasure of destruction. Provisions now failing, he resolved to depart; the provisions of Gibraltar, except the fruits, coming entirely from Maracaibo, were delayed and intercepted. He first sent some prisoners into the woods to collect a ransom from the fugitives, under pain of again burning down their newly rebuilt city. He demanded 5,000 pieces of eight. They promised to pay it in eight days, and gave four of their richest citizens as hostages. The governor, safe from all danger himself, had, however, forbidden them to pay any ransom, and they prayed Morgan to have patience. Setting sail with his hostages he arrived in three days at Maracaibo, afraid that, during his long absence, the Spaniards had fortified themselves, and he should have to fight his way through the passes. Before his departure he released all his prisoners who had paid ransom, but detained the slaves. He refused particularly to give up the treacherous negro, because he knew they would burn him alive. The only inmate of all the rich palaces and wide squares of Maracaibo, was a poor sick man, who informed him (Morgan), to his astonishment, that three Spanish men-of-war had arrived at the bar, and had repaired and garrisoned the fort. Their commander was Don Alonso del Campo d'Espinosa, the vice-admiral of the Indian fleet, who had been despatched to those seas to protect the Spanish colonists, and put to the sword every adventurer he could meet. This news did not alarm those who every day "set their lives upon the hazard of a die," but it enraged men who thought themselves secure of their plunder, and which they now might have to throw off to lighten them in their retreat. Morgan instantly despatched his swiftest vessel to reconnoitre the bar. The men returned next day, assuring him that the story was too true, and they were in very imminent danger. They had approached so near as to be in peril of the shot, the biggest ship mounted forty guns, the next thirty, and the smallest twenty, while Morgan's flag-ship had only fourteen. They had seen the flag of Castile waving on the redoubt. There was no means of escape by sea or land, and all were in despair at such enemies so placed. Morgan, undaunted and roused to new courage by the extremity, grew more full of audacity than ever. He at once sent a flag of truce to the _Magdalene_, the Spanish admiral's vessel, demanding 20,000 pieces of eight, or he should set Maracaibo in flames. The admiral, amused and astonished at such temerity, wrote back to say, that hearing that they had committed hostilities in the dominions of his Catholic Majesty, his sovereign lord and master, he had come to dispute their passage out of the lake, from that castle, which they had taken out of the hands of a parcel of cowards, and he intended to follow and pursue them everywhere, as was his duty. The letter continued: "Notwithstanding if you be contented to surrender with humility all you have taken, together with the slaves and other prisoners, I will let you pass freely without trouble or molestation, on condition that you retire home presently to your own country. But if you make any resistance or opposition to what I offer you, I assure you I will command boats to come from the Caraccas, wherein I will put my troops, and, coming to Maracaibo, will put you every man to the sword. This is my last and absolute resolution; be prudent, therefore, and do not abuse my bounty with ingratitude. I have with me very good soldiers, who desire nothing more ardently than to revenge on you and your people all the cruelties and base infamous actions you have committed upon the Spanish nation in America." This vapouring letter Morgan read aloud to his men in the broad market-place at Maracaibo, first in French and then in English, begging their advice on the whole matter--asking them whether they would surrender everything for liberty, or fight for both liberty and hard-won treasure. They all answered unanimously, they did not care for the Spanish brag, and they would rather fight to the last drop of their blood than surrender booty got with such peril. One of the men, stepping forward, cried, "You take care of the rest, I'll build a _brûlot_, and with twelve men will burn the biggest of the three Spaniards." The scheme was adopted, but resolved once more to try negotiation, now that he was prepared for the worst, Morgan wrote again to Don Alonso, offering to leave Maracaibo uninjured, surrender all the prisoners, half the slaves, and to give up the hostages. The Don, trusting in his superior strength, and believing Morgan fairly intimidated or at least entirely in his mercy, refused to listen to any terms but those he had proposed, adding, that in two days he should come and force him to yield. Morgan resolved upon this to fight his way out and surrender nothing, his men, though discouraged, being still brave and desperate. All things were put in order to fight. The Englishman of Morgan's crew proceeded as fast as possible with his _brûlot_, or fire-ship. He took the small vessel captured in the Rivière des Espines, and filled it full of palm-leaves dipped in tar, and a mixture of brimstone and gunpowder. He put several pounds of powder under each of the ten sham guns, which were formed of negro drums. The partitions of the cabins were then broken down, so that the flame might spread unimpeded. The crew were wooden posts, dressed up with swords, muskets, bandoliers, and hats or montero caps. This fire-ship bore the English colours, so that it might pass for Morgan's vessel; and in eight days, by all hands working upon it, it was ready. During the preparation an extra guard was kept upon the prisoners, for one escaping would have destroyed all their hopes of safety. The male prisoners were kept in one boat, and the females, slaves, plate, and jewels in another. In others, guarded by twelve men each, came the merchandise. The _brûlot_ was to go first and grapple with the admiral's ship. All things being now completed, Morgan, with a heart as gay as if he fought for God and the right, made his men take the usual Buccaneer oath, employed on all occasions of pressing danger, when mutual confidence was peculiarly necessary. They vowed to fight till death, and neither to give nor take quarter. He promised a reward to all who distinguished themselves, exciting all the strongest feelings of their nature--revenge, avarice, and self-preservation. With these desperate resolves, full of hope, for they were accustomed to consider his promises of victory as certain prophecies, they set sail on the 30th day of April, 1669, to seek the Spaniards. They found the Spanish fleet riding at anchor in the middle of the entry of the lake, like gaolers of their spacious prison. It being late and almost dark, Morgan gave orders to anchor within range of the enemy, determined to resist if attacked, but to wait for light. They kept a strict watch, and at daybreak lifted anchor and set sail, bearing down straight upon the Spaniards, who, seeing them move, advanced to meet them. Poor fishing boats the Buccaneers' barks seemed beneath those proud floating castles; "but the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." The _brûlot_ sailed first, pushing on to the admiral's vessel, which lay stately between its two companions, and was suffered to approach within cannon shot. The Spaniards believing that it was Morgan's vessel, and intended to board them, waited till it came closer to crush it with a broadside. They little thought that they were fighting with the elements. The fire-ship fell upon the Spaniard and clung to its sides, like a wild cat on an elephant. Too late the Spaniard attempted to push her off, but the flames had already leaped from their lurking places; first the sails were swathed in fire, then the tackling shrivelled up, and soon the solid timbers burst into a blaze. The stern was first consumed, and the fore part sank hissing into the sea. The wretched crew, flying from one element to the other, perished, some by fire, some by water; the half-drowning clung to the burning planks and withered in the glare; the burning sailors were sucked down by the vortex of the sinking wreck. Don Alonso, seeing the danger, called out to them in vain to cut down the masts, and, throwing himself with difficulty into his sloop, escaped to land. The sailors, refusing quarter, were allowed to perish by the Buccaneers' boats' crews, who at first offered to save them. Perhaps the recollection of their oath lessened their exertions. The boats were pulling round the burning vessel in hopes of saving plunder, and not of saving lives. The second vessel was boarded by the Buccaneers and taken, in the confusion, almost without resistance. The third ship, cutting its cables, drifted towards the fort, and there ran ashore, the crew setting fire to her to prevent capture. The Buccaneers, proud of their victory, determined to push it to extremities by landing and attempting to storm the fort at the bar, without ladders, and relying only on their hand grenades, but their artillery was too small to make any practicable breach. The fort they found well supplied with men, cannon, and ammunition. The garrison had not suffered personally by the loss of a fleet manned by strangers, and they repulsed all attacks. Unwilling to retire, Morgan spent the whole of the day till dusk in firing muskets at any defenders who showed themselves above the walls, and at dusk lit them up with a shower of fireballs, but the Spaniards desperately resisted, and shot so furiously at them as to drive them back to the ships, with the loss of thirty killed and as many wounded--more loss than they had suffered in the capture of Maracaibo and Gibraltar, while the fleet had been destroyed without the loss of a single man. The garrison, expecting a fresh attack at daybreak, laboured all night to strengthen their works, levelling the ground towards the sea, and throwing up entrenchments from spots that commanded the castle. The next day Morgan, not intending to renew the attack, employed himself in saving the Spanish sailors who were still floating on charred pieces of the wreck; not rescuing them from mercy, but in order to make them help in recovering part of the sunk treasure. They acknowledged that Don Alonso had compelled them before the engagement, after they had confessed to the chaplain, to come and take an oath to give the enemy no quarter, which was the reason many had refused to be saved. The admiral's vessel, the _Magdalene_, had carried thirty-eight guns and twelve small brass pieces, and was manned by 350 sailors; the second, the _St. Louis_, had thirty-four guns and 200 men; and the third, the _Marquise_, twenty-two guns and 150 men. The _Marquise_ derived its name from the Marquis de Coquin, who had fitted it out as a privateer. The _Concepcion_ and _Nostra Signora de la Soledad_, two larger vessels, had been sent back to Spain from Carthagena; a fourth, _Nostra Signora del Carmen_ (for the Spaniards generally drew the names of their war vessels from the lady of love and peace), had sunk near Campeachy. The pilot of the smaller vessel being saved, and promised his life, disclosed all Don Alonso's plans. He had been sent, upon the tidings of the loss of Porto Bello, by direction of the supreme council of state, with orders to root out the English pirates in those parts, and to destroy as many as he could, for dismal lamentations had been made to the court of Spain, to the Catholic king, to whom belonged the care and preservation of the New World, of the damages and hostilities committed by the English, and he had resolved to punish these proceedings and avenge his subjects. The king of England being complained to, constantly replied that he never gave any letters-patent to such men or such ships. Sending home his more cumbrous ships, the Don had heard at St. Domingo of the fleet sailing from Jamaica, and a prisoner, taken at Alta Grecia, disclosed Morgan's plan on the Caraccas. On arriving there the wild fire had already broken out at Maracaibo a second time, and hither he came to extinguish it. A negro slave had indeed informed the admiral of the fire-ship, but with short-sighted pride he derided the idea, saying that the English had had neither wit, tools, nor time to build it. The pilot who made these disclosures was rewarded by Morgan, and, yielding to his promises, entered into his service. He informed him, with the usual zeal of a deserter, that there was plate to the value of 40,000 pieces of eight in the sunken ship, for he had seen it brought on board in boats. The divers eventually recovered 2000 pounds' worth of it, some "in plate" and others in piastres, that had melted into large lumps, together with many silver hilts of swords and other valuables. Leaving a vessel to superintend this profitable fishery, Morgan hurried back to Maracaibo, and, fitting up his largest prize for himself, gave his own ship to a companion. He also sent to the governor, now somewhat crest-fallen, to re-demand the ransom, threatening more violently than before to burn down the city in eight days if it was not brought in. He also demanded, in addition, 500 cows as victual for his fleet. These were brought in in the short space of two days, with part of the money, and eleven more days were spent in salting the meat and preparing for sea. Then returning to the mouth of the lake, he sent to Don Alonso to demand a free passage, offering to send all the prisoners on shore as soon as he had once passed out, but otherwise to tie the prisoners to the rigging, exposing them to the shot of the fort, and then to kill and throw overboard those who were not struck. The prisoners also sent a petition, praying the governor to spare their lives. But the Don, quite undaunted, sternly answered to the hostages, who besought him on their knees to save them from the sword and rope, "If you had been as loyal to your king in hindering the entry of these pirates as I shall be in hindering their going out, you had never caused these troubles, either to yourselves or to our whole nation, which hath suffered so much through your pusillanimity. I shall not grant your request, but shall endeavour to maintain that respect which is due to my king, according to my duty." When the terrified messengers returned and told Morgan, he replied, "If Alonso will not let me pass, I will find out a way without him," resolving to use either force or stratagem, and perhaps both. Fearing that a storm might separate his fleet, or that some might not succeed in escaping, Morgan divided the booty before he attempted to pass the bar. Having all taken the usual oath, he found they had collected 250,000 pieces of eight, including money and jewels, and in addition a vast bulk of merchandise and many slaves. Eight days were spent in this division, which took place within sight of the exasperated garrison in the fort. The following stratagem was then resorted to. Knowing that the Spaniards were expecting a final and desperate attack on the day before their departure, the Buccaneers made great show of preparing to land and attack the fort. Part of each ship's crew embarked with their colours in their canoes, which were instantly rowed to shore. Here the men, concealed by the boughs on the banks, lay down flat in their boats, and were rowed back again to their vessels by only two or three sailors. This feigned landing they repeated several times in the day. The Spaniards, certain of an escalade, at night brought down the great eighteen pound ship guns of the fort to the side of the island looking towards the land, and left the sea-shore almost defenceless. When night came Morgan weighed anchor, and, by moonlight setting sail, at the commencement of the ebb tide, dropped gently down the river, till the vessels were almost alongside of the castle. Then spreading sails, quick as magic, he drove past, firmly but warily. Every precaution was taken. The crew were couched flat on the poop, and some placed below to plug the shot-holes as they came. The Spaniards, astonished at their daring, and enraged at their escape, ran with all speed and shifted their battery, firing hastily, furiously, and with little certainty; but by this time, a favourable wind springing up, the Buccaneers were almost out of reach, few men were killed, and little damage done. In this manner escaped Morgan from the clutches of Don Alonso, who had thought himself sure of his prey. The baffled rage of the Spaniards and the wild joy of the Buccaneers, their clamorous approval of Morgan's skill, the exultation of their triumph, and the prisoners' dismay, may be easily imagined. Generous in success, Morgan, once out of range of the guns that thundered in pursuit, sent a canoe on shore with his prisoners from Maracaibo, but those of Gibraltar he carried off, as they had not yet paid their ransom. The joy of one and the grief of the other, their parting and the tears, were painful to witness. As he set sail, and the fort was still looming to the right, Morgan discharged a farewell salute of eight guns, to which the chapfallen Spaniards had not the heart to return even a single musket shot. But out of Scylla into Charybdis was a Buccaneer's fate: one danger was succeeded by another, hope by hope, despair by despair. The very day of their escape the judgment of Heaven seemed to overtake the sea rovers, as if to warn them that no stratagems could defeat God. The fleet was surprised by such a tempest that they were compelled to anchor in five or six fathom water. The storm increased, they were obliged to weigh again, and at any risk keep off the land. Their only choice seemed to be death by the Spaniard, the Indian, or the wave--all equally hostile and deaf to mercy. Oexmelin says he was on board the least seaworthy vessel of the whole fleet, that, having lost anchors and mainsail, they had great difficulty in keeping afloat, and were obliged to bale as well as work night and day at the pumps, amid deafening thunder and mountainous seas that threatened to drown them even while the vessel still floated. The ship, but for the ropes that held it together, would have instantly sunk. The lightning and the wave disputed for their prey, but the rude arbiter, the wind, came in and snatched them from these destroyers. "Indeed," says Oexmelin, "though worn out with fatigue and toil, we could not make up our minds to close our eyes on that blessed light which we might so soon lose sight of for ever, for no hope of safety now remained. The storm had lasted four days, and there was no probability of its termination. On one side we saw rocks on which our vessel threatened every instant to drive, on the other were Indians who would no more have spared us than the Spaniards who were behind us; and by some evil fortune the wind drove us ceaselessly towards the rocks and the Indians, and away from the place whither we desired to go." In the midst of these distresses, six armed vessels gave them chase through the storm when they were near the bay of Venezuela. They turned out to be vessels of the Count d'Estreés, the French admiral, who generously rendered them aid, and the wind abating enabled them to reach the shore. Morgan and some others made for Jamaica, and the French for St. Domingo,--the Spaniards at the fort probably believing they had perished in the gale. The laggers of Morgan's fleet, who had never joined him, were less fortunate than the admiral they deserted. 400 in number, they landed at Savona, but could not find the buried letter. They determined to attack the town of Comana, on the Caraccas, choosing Captain Hansel, who had distinguished himself at Porto Bello, as their commander. This town was distant sixty leagues from Trinidad. On landing they killed a few Indians who awaited them on the beach, but the Spaniards, disputing briskly the entry of the town, drove them back at last to their ships with great loss and confusion. On returning to Jamaica they were jeered at by Morgan's men, who used to say, "Let us see what sort of money you brought from Comana, and if it be as good as that which we won at Maracaibo." Morgan, encouraged by success, soon determined on fresh enterprises. On arriving at Jamaica, "he found many of his officers and soldiers already reduced to their former indigency by their vices and debaucheries. Hence they perpetually importuned him for new exploits, thereby to get something to expend still in wine and strumpets, as they had already done what they got before. Captain Morgan, willing to follow fortune's call, stopped the mouths of many inhabitants of Jamaica who were creditors to his men for large sums, with the hopes and promises of greater achievements than ever in a new expedition. This done, he could easily levy men for any enterprise, his name being so famous through all these islands, as that alone would readily bring him in more men than he could well employ." Affecting a mystery, attractive in itself, and necessary where Spanish spies might be present, Morgan appointed a rendezvous at Port Couillon, on the south side of Hispaniola, and made known his intentions to the English and French adventurers, whether in Tortuga or St. Domingo. He wrote letters to all the planters and old Buccaneers in Hispaniola, and desired their attendance at a common council. At many a hunting fire this announcement was read, and many an _engagé's_ heart beat high at the news, for Morgan was now the champion and hero of the Buccaneers of America. Great numbers flocked to the port in ships and canoes, others traversed the woods and arrived there by land, through a thousand dangers. Such crowds came that it soon became difficult to obtain a place in the crews. Vessels and provisions were now all that was wanted. Plunder was certain, and they had but to choose on what rich coast they should land. The French adventurers, ever gay and ready, were first in the field. Morgan himself, punctual and prompt, followed in the _Flying Stag_, the St. Malo vessel we have before mentioned, carrying forty-two guns. The vessel had been lately confiscated and sold by the governor of Jamaica, the unfortunate captain escaping with his life, happy in being free although penniless. At the rendezvous on the 24th day of October, 1670, 1600 men were present, and twenty-four vessels assembled at the muster, amid shouting, gun firing, flag waving, and great joy and hope. Morgan's proposition was to attack some rich place which was well defended--the more danger the more booty, for it was only rich places that the Spaniards cared to defend. Several previous expeditions had failed from want of provisions, and the necessity of attacking small places to obtain food gave the alarm to the Spaniards and frustrated their plans. They therefore resolved to visit La Rancheria, a small place on the banks of the River de la Hache, on the mainland, with four vessels and 400 men. This was a place where corn and maize were brought by the farmers for the supply of the neighbouring city of Carthagena, and they hoped to capture in the port some pearl vessels from that place. In the meanwhile, Morgan, not caring for lesser prey, employed his men in careening, cleaning, rigging, and pitching their vessels ready for sea, that all might be ready to weigh anchor the moment the expedition of foragers returned. It augured terribly to the Spaniard that it was necessary to sack a town or two before the Buccaneer fleet could even set sail. Part of the men were in the woods boar-hunting, and others salting the flesh for the voyage. Each crew had a certain part of the woods allotted it for its own district, so perfect was Morgan's discipline. Each party prepared the salt pork for its own use, while the cauldrons of pitch were smoking on the beach, and the clank of the shipwrights' hammers could be heard all night by the hunters. The English, who were not so expert in hunting as their Gallic brethren (so says a French writer), generally took a French hunter with them, to whom they gave 150 or 200 piastres. Some of these men had trained packs of dogs that would kill enough boars in a day to load twenty or thirty men. The Rancheria expedition arrived in six days within sight of the river, and was unfortunately becalmed for some time within a gunshot of land. This gave the Spaniards time to prepare for their defence, and either to bury their goods or throw up entrenchments, for these repeated visits of the Buccaneers had rendered them quick on such occasions. A land-wind at last springing up, gave a corn vessel from Carthagena, lying in the river, an opportunity to sally out and attempt its escape, but being a bad sailer it was soon captured, much to the Englishmen's delight, for corn was the object of their visit. By a singular coincidence, it turned out to be that very cocoa vessel which Lolonnois sold to the governor of Tortuga, who, on its return from France, had sold it to Captain Champaigne, a French adventurer, who in his turn sold it to the same merchant captain who then commanded it. He told the Buccaneers that it made the twelfth vessel taken from him by the brotherhood of the coast in five years only, and yet that with all these losses he had contrived to make a fortune of 500,000 crowns. "On peut juger par là," says Oexmelin, with a shrug, "s'il y a des gens riches dans l'Amérique." Landing at daybreak, in spite of the mowing fire from a battery, and under protection of their own cannon, they drove the Spaniards back to their strongly fortified village, which they at once attacked. Here the enemy rallied and fought desperately, hand-to-hand, sword blow and push of pike, from ten in the morning till night, when they fled, having suffered great loss, into secret places in the woods. The Buccaneers, who had suffered scarcely less loss, pushed on at once headlong to the town, which they found deserted; and next day pursuing the Spaniards took many prisoners, and proceeded to torture them, inflicting on fear and innocence all the horrors of the Madrid inquisition. In fifteen days they captured many prisoners and much booty, and with the usual threats of destroying the town, they obtained 4000 hanegs, or bushels of maize, sufficient for the whole of the fleet. They preferred this to money, and in three days, the whole quantity being brought in by the people, eager for their departure, they at once sailed. Morgan, alarmed at their five weeks' absence, had begun to despair of their return, thinking Rancheria must have been relieved from Carthagena or Santa Maria. He also thought that they might have had good fortune, and deserted him to return to Jamaica. His joy was great to see them arrive laden with corn, and more in number than when they departed. A council of war was actually holding to plan a new expedition, when Captain Bradley and his six vessels hove in sight. The maize was divided among the fleet, but the plunder was awarded to the captain who had risked his life for the general good. The captured ship arrived very opportunely, and it was instantly awarded by general consent to Le Gascon, a French adventurer who had lately lost his vessel. Morgan having divided the meat and corn, and personally inspected every bark, set sail for Cape Tiburon, at the west end of Hispaniola, a spot convenient for laying in stores of wood and water. Here he was joined by several ships from New England, refitted at Jamaica. Morgan now found himself suzerain of a fleet of thirty-seven vessels, large and small, carrying sixteen, fourteen, twelve, ten, even down to four pound guns. To man these there were 2200 sailors, well armed and ready for flight and plunder. The fleet was divided into two squadrons, under his vice-admiral and subordinate officers. To the captains he gave letters-patent, guaranteeing them from all the effects of Spanish hostility, from "the open and declared enemies of the King his master," (Charles II.) The charter-party which we give elsewhere was then signed, the rewards were higher than usual, and many modifications introduced. In the private council three places were proposed as rich and accessible--Panama, Carthagena, and Vera Cruz. In these consultations the only thing considered was whether a town was rich or poor, not whether it was well or ill defended. "The lot fell" on Panama, as the richest of the three, though the least known to them, being further from the North Pacific than any Buccaneer had yet gone. Panama was the galleon-port and the El Dorado of the adventurer's yarns. Being so unknown a place they determined to first recapture St. Catherine's, where in the prisons they might obtain many guides, who had seen both the North and South Pacifics, for outlaws made, they found, the best guides for outlaws; and they agreed before sailing that, if they took a Spanish vessel, the first captain who boarded it should have for his reward a tenth part of her cargo. They had begun by sacking a town to victual their fleet, they now proposed to storm a fort to obtain a guide--St. Catherine's batteries, if resolutely manned, being able to beat off three such fleets. The admiral, it was agreed, should have a share for every hundred men, and every captain eight shares if the vessel they took was large. The crews then one by one took the oath of fidelity. On the 18th December, 1670, the fleet set sail for St. Catherine's, whose prisoners would rejoice at their arrival. The one squadron carried the royal English and the other a white flag. The admiral's division bore a red banner with a white cross, "le pavillon du parlement," and at the bow-sprit one of three colours, blue, white, and red. Those of the other divisions carried a white and red flag. Morgan also appointed peculiar signals for all emergencies. On their way to St. Catherine's they chased two Dutch vessels from Cuba, which escaped by aid of contrary winds that baffled their pursuers. In four days the fleet arrived at St. Catherine's, and Morgan despatched two small vessels to guard the port. This island was renowned for its vast flocks of migratory pigeons, and is watered by four streams, two of which are dry in summer. The land, though fertile, was not cultivated. The next day, before sunrise, they anchored in the bay of Aguada Grande, where the Spaniards had erected a four-gun battery. Morgan, at the head of 100 men, landed and made his way through the woods, having no guides but some old Buccaneers who had been there before with Mansvelt. On arriving that night at the governor's house and the Platform Battery they found the Spaniards had retreated by a bridge into the smaller and almost impregnable island, which they had made strong enough to beat off 10,000 men. Being driven back at first by a tremendous fire, Morgan was obliged to encamp that night in the woods or open country--no hardship to hunters or sailors in fine weather. There still remained a whole league of dense brush between them and their enemies, at once their protection and destruction. A chilling torrent of rain began to beat upon them, and instead of ceasing, as they had hoped, lasted till noon of the next day. They pulled down two or three thatched huts, and made small damp fires, that scorched a few but warmed none. They could not shelter themselves, and, what was worse, could not keep their arms and powder dry. But more than this, they suffered from hunger, having had no food for a whole day. The men for the greater part being dressed with no clothes but a seaman's shirt and trowsers, and without shoes or stockings, suffered dreadfully after the burning of a tropic noon from this freezing cold and rain. One hundred men, says Esquemeling, even indifferently well armed, might have cut them all to pieces. At daybreak they were roused from their shivering sleep by the Spanish drums beating the _Diane_, or _reveillé_. The rain had now ceased, and their courage rose as high as ever. But they could not answer this challenge, for their own drums were loose and soaked with wet, and they had now to employ themselves in quickly drying their arms. Scarcely had they done this, when it began to cloud over and rain with increased fury, as if the "sky were melting into waters," which blinded them and prevented them again from advancing to the attack. Many of them grew faint-hearted, and talked of returning. The men were now feeble for want of sleep, and faint with cold and hunger. The eager foragers found in a field "an old horse, lean, and full of scabs and blotches, with galled back and sides." This was instantly killed and flayed, and divided in small pieces among as many as could get any, and eagerly eaten without salt or bread by the few lucky epicures--"eaten," says the historian, "more like ravenous wolves eat than men." The rain still gushing down, and the men, worn out in mind and body, growing angry, discontented, and clamorous, it became necessary for Morgan to act with promptitude. About noon, to his great joy, the rain ceased and the sun broke out. Taking advantage of this lull--for the rain had barred even their retreat--Morgan ordered a canoe to be rigged out in great haste, and dispatched four men with a white flag to the Spanish governor, declaring that if they did not all surrender he would put them to the sword without quarter. His audacity was luckily crowned with success. Opposed armies are often men mutually afraid, trying to frighten each other. The governor was intimidated. He demanded two hours to confer with his officers. At the end of this time, on Morgan giving hostages, two soldiers with white flags were sent to arrange terms. The governor had decided in full conference that he could not defend the island against such an armada, but he proposed a certain (Dalgetty-like) stratagem of war to save his own head, and preserve the reputation of his officers at home and abroad. Morgan was to come at night and assault the fort of St. Jerome, which stood near the bridge that joined the two islands, and at the same moment his fleet was to attack the castle of Santa Teresa by sea, and land troops near the battery of St. Matthew. These men were to intercept and take prisoner the governor as he made his way to the St. Jerome batteries. He would then at once lead them to the castle, as if they were his own men. On both sides there was to be continual firing, but only with powder, and no bullets. The forts thus taken, the island would of course surrender. This well-arranged performance took place with great _éclat_. Morgan, in acceding to the terms, had insisted on their strict performance of every item, and gave notice, for fear of ambush, that every straggling Spaniard would be shot. Afraid of a stratagem, some Buccaneers loaded their muskets with ball, and held themselves ready for any danger. With much smoke and great consumption of powder, the unsuspecting Spaniards were driven like sheep into the church, the island surrendered, and by this bloodless artifice Spanish pride remained unhurt. But a cruel massacre now commenced. The Buccaneers had eaten nothing for nearly two days. They made war upon all the poultry and cattle--the oldest cow was slain, the toughest rooster strangled. For several days the island was lit up with huge fires, round which the men roasted their meat, and revelled and caroused. When wood grew scarce they pulled down cottages to light their fires, and having no wine very wisely made use of water. The day after the surrender they numbered their prisoners, and found they had collected 450 souls--seventy of the garrison, forty-three children, and thirty-one slaves. The men were all carefully disarmed, and sent to the plantations to bring in provisions; the women were left in the church to pray and weep. They next inspected all the ten batteries, wondering in their strength and exulting in their victory. The fort St. Jerome contained eight great guns and sixty muskets; the St. Matthew three guns; the Santa Teresa twenty guns and 120 muskets. The castle was very strong, and moated; impregnable on the sea side, and on the land side ascended by a narrow mountain path, while the guns on its summit commanded the port. The St. Augustine fort mounted three guns; the Platform two; the St. Salvador and another also two; the Santa Cruz three; and the St. Joseph six and twelve muskets. In the magazine they found 30,000 pounds of powder, which they at once shipped, with all the other ammunition. In the St. Jerome battery Morgan left a guard, but in all the other forts the guns were spiked and the gun-carriages burnt. The object of his visit was still to seek. Examining the prisoners, who were now crowded in with merchants and grandees, he inquired for banditti from Panama, and three slaves stepped forward who knew every path and avenue to the city. These men he chose as guides, promising them a full Buccaneer's share of the spoil if they brought him by a secure way to the city, and, in addition, their liberty when they reached Jamaica. These volunteers consisted of two Indians and a mulatto. The former denied all knowledge of the place; the latter--a "rogue, thief, and assassin, who had deserved breaking on the wheel rather than mere garrison service"--readily accepted Morgan's propositions, and promised to serve him faithfully. He had a great ascendancy over the two Indians, and domineered over them as he pleased, without their daring to disobey a half-blood already on the point of preferment. The next step to Panama was to capture Chagres and its castle, and Morgan at once dispatched five vessels, well equipped, with 400 men on board, to undertake this expedition, remaining himself at St. Catherine's, lest the people of Panama should be alarmed. He was to follow his van-guard in eight days, guided by the Indians, who knew Chagres. This time he and his men prudently spent in pulling manioc roots for cassava, and digging potatoes for the voyage. The Chagres expedition was led by the same Captain Bradley who commanded at Rancheria. He had been with Mansvelt formerly, and had rendered himself famous by his exploits both among the Buccaneers and the Spaniards. He arrived in three days at Chagres, opposite Fort St. Lawrence, which was built on a mountain commanding the entrance of the river. As soon as the Spaniards saw the red flag spreading from his vessels, they displayed the royal colours of Spain, and saluted him with a volley too hasty and angry to be very destructive. The Buccaneers, according to their usual stratagem, landed at Narangui, a place a quarter of a league distant from the castle, their guide leading them through thick woods, through which they had to cut a path with their sabres. It was early morning when they landed, and requiring half a day to perform the short distance, they did not reach a hill commanding the castle till two o'clock. The mire and dirt of the road combined, with the darkness of the way, to lengthen their march. The guides served them well, but brought them at one spot so near to the castle, and in so open and bare a place, that they lost many men by the shot. In other parts the wood was so thick that they could only tell that they were near the castle by the discharge of the cannon. The hill they had now reached was not within musket range, and they were thus deprived of the use of their favourite weapon. Could they have dragged cannon so far they might have taken the place without losing a man. The castle of Chagres was built on a high mountain at the entry of a river, and surrounded by strong wooden palisadoes banked with earth. The top of the mountain was divided into two parts, between which ran a ditch thirty feet deep; the tower had but one entrance by a drawbridge, towards the land it had four bastions, and towards the sea two more. The south wall was inaccessible crag, the north was moated by the broad river. At the foot of the hill lay a strong fort with eight guns, which commanded the river's mouth; a little lower down were two other batteries, each of six guns, all pointing the same way. At another side were two great store-houses, full of goods, brought from the inland, and near these a flight of steps, cut in the rock, led to the castle of the summit. On the west side was a small port not more than seven or eight fathoms deep, with good anchorage for small vessels, and before the hill a great rock rose from the waves, which almost covered it at low water. The place appeared such a perfect volcano of fire, and so threatening and dangerous, that the Buccaneers, but for fear of Morgan's rage and contempt, would have at once turned back. After many disputes and much doubt and perplexity, they resolved to hazard the assault and risk their lives. When they descended from their hill into the plain, they had to throw themselves on their faces to escape the desolating shower of balls; but their marksmen, quite uncovered and without defence, shot at the Spanish gunners through the loops of the palisading, and killed all who showed themselves. This skirmishing continued till the evening, when the Buccaneers, who had lost many men, their commander having his leg broken with a cannon shot, began to waver and to think of retiring, having in vain tried to burn down the place with their fireballs, and charged up to the very walls, which they tried in vain to climb, sword in hand. When the Spaniards saw them drawing back through the dusk, in some disorder, carrying their wounded men and gnashing their teeth in rage at the dark lines of defence, they shouted out "Come on, you dogs of heretics; come on, you English devils: you shan't get to Panama this bout, for we'll serve your comerades as we have served you." The Buccaneers, astonished at their cries, now for the first time learnt that Morgan's expedition had been heard of at Panama. Night had already begun, and the rain of bullets, shot, and Indian arrows (more deadly almost than the bullets), harassing and well-aimed, continued as grievous as by day. Taking advantage of the gloom, another party advanced to the palisadoes; the light of their burning fuses directed the aim of the Spaniards. A singular accident of war gave the place, so briskly defended, into the hands of the assailants. A party of the French musketeers were talking together, devising a plan of advance, when a swift Indian arrow fell among them and pierced one of the speakers in the shoulder (Esquemeling says in the back and right through the body, another writer says in the eye). A thought struck the wounded man, for the wound had spurred his imagination: coolly drawing the point from his shoulder, he said to those near him, "Attendez, mes frères, je m'en vais faire périr tous les Espagnols--tous--avec cette sacré flèche" (wait a bit, my mates, I'll kill all the Spaniards--all--with this d---- arrow); so saying he drew from his pocket a handful of wild cotton, which the Buccaneers kept as lint to staunch their wounds, and wound it round the dart; then putting it in his loaded musket, from which he extracted the ball, he fired it back at the castle roof. It alighted on some dry thatch, which in a moment began to smoke, and in another second broke into a bright flame, more visible for the darkness. The Buccaneers shouted and pushed on to the attack, and the wounded men forgot their wounds. Some of the men, seeing the result of the experiment, gathered up the Indian arrows that lay thick around them, and fired them at the roofs. Many houses were soon in flames. The Spaniards, busy with the defence, did not see the fire until it had gained some head, and reaching a parcel of powder blown it up and caused ruin and consternation within the fort. If they left the walls the Buccaneers gained ground, if they left the fire the flames spread more terribly than before; the want of sufficient water increased the confusion, and while they tried to quench the conflagration, the Buccaneers set fire to the palisadoes. Oexmelin, who was present as a surgeon at this attack of Chagres, relates an anecdote of courage which he himself witnessed, to show the indomitable fury of the assailants. One of his own friends was pierced in the eye by an Indian arrow, and came to him to beg him to pull it out, the pain was so intense and unbearable. Although a surgeon, Oexmelin had not the nerve to inflict such torture, however momentary, on a friend, and turned away in pity, upon which the hardy seaman tore out the arrow with a curse, and, binding up the wound, rushed forward to the wall. The few Buccaneers who had retreated, seeing the flames, now hurried back to the attack. The Spaniards could no longer see the enemy at whom they fired, the night was so dark and starless, while the Buccaneers shot down with the unerring aim of hunters the Spaniards, whose bodies stood out dark and well-defined against the bright background of flame. All this time, before the fire of the roofs could be extinguished, the Buccaneers had swarmed through the fosse, and, mounting upon each other's shoulders, burnt down part of the palisadoes, as we have before described, in spite of the hand grenades that were thrown from above, and which burst among them. The fire ran along the wall, leaping like a winged thing, and devoured wherever it clung, spreading with dreadful rapidity. The fight continued all night, and when the calm daylight broke on the worn soldiers, the Buccaneers saw with sparkling eyes that the gabions had smouldered through, and that the earth had fallen down in large heaps into the fosse. The breaches in many places were practicable. The armour had fallen piece-meal from their giant adversary, and he now stood before them bare, wounded, and defenceless. The Buccaneers, creeping within musket shot of the walls, shot down the gunners in the breaches to which the cannon had been dragged by the governor's orders during the night. Divided into two bands, one party kept up a constant fire on the guns, and the other watched the motions of the enemy. About noon they advanced to a spot which the governor himself defended, belted round with twenty-five brave Spaniards, armed with pikes, halberds, swords, and muskets. They advanced under a dreadful hail of fire and lead, the defenders casting down flaming pots full of combustible matter and "_odious smells_," which destroyed many of the English. But we do not know how smells could drive back men who would have marched through hell if it had been the shortest way to Panama. Nothing could equal the unflinching courage of the Spaniards--they disputed every inch of ground--they yielded slowly like wounded lions when the hunters narrow their circles. They showered stones and all available missiles on their assailants, only wishing to kill a Buccaneer, but feeling that resistance was hopeless; some, rather than yield, threw themselves from the cliffs into the sea, and few survived the fall. As the Buccaneers won their way to the castle the Spaniards retreated to the _garde du corps_, where they entrenched themselves with two cannon; to the last the governor refused quarter, and at last fell shot through the brain. The few who remained surrendered when the guns were taken and would have been turned against them. Only fourteen men were found unhurt in the fort and about nine or ten wounded, who had hid themselves among the dead. They told Morgan that they were all that were left of a garrison of 314 soldiers. The governor, seeing that he was lost, had despatched the survivors to Panama to alarm the city, and remained behind to die. No officer was left alive; they had been the first to set their men the example of a glorious death. It appeared that a Buccaneer deserter, an Irishman, whom Morgan had not even informed of his design, had come to the port, and assured them of the attack on La Rancheria, and the contemplated movement on Panama. The governor of that place had instantly sent to Chagres a reinforcement of 164 men, with ammunition and provisions, and had placed ambuscades along the river. He was at that very moment, they said, awaiting them in the savannah with 3600 men: of these 2000 were infantry, 400 cavalry, and 600 Indians. He had also employed 200 muleteers and hunters to collect a drove of 1000 wild cattle to drive down upon the invaders. "The taking of this castle," says Esquemeling, "cost the pirates excessively dear, in comparison to what they were wont to lose, and their toil and labour was greater than at the conquest of the Isle of St. Catherine." On numbering their thinned ranks, many voices were silent at the roll call. More than 100 men were found to be dead, and more than seventy grievously wounded. There were sixty who could not rise, and many in the ranks wore on their arms strips of the Spanish colours, or had their heads bound round with bloody cloths. The prisoners they compelled to drag their own dead to the edge of the cliffs and cast them among the shattered bodies on the beach, and then to bury them where the sea could not wash them out of their graves, or the birds devour them. The castle chapel they turned into an hospital for the wounded, and the female slaves were employed to tend them, for the surgeons in the heat of battle had only had time to amputate a limb or bind an artery. CHAPTER II. CONQUEST OF PANAMA. March from Chagres--Famine--Ambuscade of Indians--Wild bulls driven down upon them--Victory--Battle of the Forts--Takes the City--Burns part of it--Cruelties--Debauchery--Retreat with prisoners--Virtue of the Spanish prisoner, and her sufferings--Ransom--Division of booty--Treason of Morgan--Escapes by night to Jamaica--Dispersion of the Fleet--Morgan's subsequent fate. The bodies of their comerades, who had died that they who survived might conquer, were buried, not without some tears even from these rude men, in large (plague pit) graves, dug by the prisoners. The women were violated in the first fury of the sack. During their plunder they found a great quantity of provisions and ammunitions stored up for the use of the fleet. Their next act was to repair the fort and render it tenable. Morgan, instantly informed of the fall of Chagres, did not remain long behind. Having first collected all the Indian wheat and cassava he could carry, he embarked his prisoners and provisions, taking with him Don Joseph Ramirez de Leiba, the governor, and the chief officers. The cannon he spiked or threw into the sea, in places where he might recover them, intending to return and fortify the place, as a stronghold if his design on Panama failed. The forts, and church, and house he fired, with the exception of the castle of Santa Teresa. In sailing to Chagres a storm arose and dispersed his vessels, keeping them many days at sea. The admiral, always watchful in danger, suffered himself for a moment to sleep in the hour of prosperity. When he approached the river mouth and saw the English flag floating from the blackened walls, he could not restrain the heedless joy of his crew--not waiting for the pilot canoe that was putting out to warn them of their danger, he drove on the sunken rock at the foot of the castle hill. His own and three other vessels sank, yet the crews and cargoes were all saved, and but for a strong "norther" the ships themselves would have been preserved. Brought into the castle with acclamations and hearty congratulations at his escape, Morgan employed the Spanish prisoners from St. Catherine's in repairing the palisading of the fort, carefully destroying all thatched sheds for fear of fire. He then chose a garrison by lot, and divided the stores. He heard with delight the details of the victory, and lamented the absent dead and the many brave men that had shared so often his own hopes and fears. His next movement was to seize some _chatten_, or small Spanish vessels that were still in the river. They were small craft that went to and fro between Chagres and Porto Bello, or Nicaragua, or plied with merchandise up and down the river. They mounted six guns, two iron, and four small brass, and were navigated by six men. He also took four small frigates of fourteen and eight guns, and all the canoes he could lay hands on, requiring them for the expedition. He left behind him 100 men, under command of Captain Le Maurice, and 150 men to guard the ships. For Panama, Morgan took with him 1300 of the best armed and the most robust of his band, five boats with artillery, and thirty-two canoes. He imprudently carried little provisions, expecting to obtain plenty from the Spaniards they should kill in the ambuscades. In spite of the recent victory, and of Morgan's certainty of conquest, many of the Buccaneers were less sanguine than on former expeditions. The Spanish prisoners had succeeded in alarming them by rumours of the dangers and intricacy of the road, and the ambuscades that had been two months in preparation. Some, more superstitious than the rest, thought the wreck of Morgan's ship, and the severe loss at Chagres, bad omens for their success at Panama. But these were mocked at by the rest, as white-livered, and Morgan having divided the provisions between the garrison and the St. Catherine prisoners, reviewed his men, and examined himself their arms and ammunition. He quieted their fears and spoke of victory as already obtained. He exhorted them to show more than usual courage, in order to return as soon as possible rich and glorious to Jamaica. With a shout of "Long live the King of England, and long live Henry Morgan," they began their march towards the doomed city on the 18th of January, 1670. The first day they advanced only six leagues to Rio de los Braços, where they got out of their canoes to sleep on shore, being crippled with overcrowding in the boats. They could have brought no provisions, for few had any food that day, but a pipe of tobacco "to stop the orifice of the stomach." They could find nothing in the deserted plantations, where even the unripe fruits had been plucked and the roots pulled up before their arrival. The men longed to fight, in order that they might eat. By noon of the next day they reached Cruz de Juan Gallego, where they were obliged to leave their canoes; the river was very dry and shallow from want of rain, and much impeded with fallen trees, but their hopes were excited by the guide's intelligence, that about two leagues further the roads grew better. Here they left their boats with 160 men to guard them, as a resource in case of defeat, giving them strict injunctions not to land for fear of ambuscades in the neighbouring woods, which were so thick as to seem impenetrable. Finding the forest almost impassable, Morgan ordered a few of the canoes to be rowed, though with immense labour, to a place called Cedro Bueno, further up the river, taking half the men at a time and returning for the rest, so by nightfall all the men were once more united. From discovering no ambuscades, in spite of all the wishes of these hungry soldiers, it was supposed that the Spanish spies, willing to avoid a fight, had frightened their officers by exaggerating the number of the adventurers. On the third day Morgan sent forward some guides, who could find no road, the country being flat, inundated, and marshy. The men, who had scarcely eaten anything since their departure, grew faint and hungry, and a few of them gathered the leaves from the forest trees. It being night before they could pass the river, they slept on the bank, exposed, half-clothed as they were, to the tropical damps and cold. The fourth day's march they advanced in divisions; the largest went by land, the smaller in canoes. The guides were always kept two musket shots in advance, to give notice of ambuscades, and in hopes of capturing stragglers who might furnish intelligence. But the Spaniards had also scouts, very wary, and very "dexterous" in giving notice of all accidents, frequently bringing the Panama men intelligence of the Buccaneers' approach six hours before the enemy arrived. About noon the army reached a post named Torna Cavallos, so called probably from the roughness of the road, and at this spot the guide of the canoes cried out that he saw an ambuscade. With infinite joy, the hungry men, thirsting for blood, flew to arms, knowing that the Spaniards always went luxuriously provided with food, and knowing that a dead Spaniard could want no more provender. As soon as they came within sight of the entrenchment, which was shaped like a half-moon, and the palisading formed of entire trees, they uttered a dreadful shout, and, driven on by rage and hunger, began to race like starved wolves, seeing which could first cross swords with the enemy, whom they believed to be about 400 strong. But their hearts fell within them when they found the place a mere deserted rampart, and all the provisions, but a few crumbs which lay scattered about, either burnt or carried off. Some leather bags lay here and there, as if left in a hasty retreat. Enraged at this, they at once pulled down the Spanish huts, and cutting the leather bags, tore them up for food. Quarrels then arose for the largest messes, but before they could well finish this unsavoury banquet, the drum sounded for the march. About 500 Spaniards seem to have held these entrenchments, and many of the men threatened to devour the first fugitive they could meet with. About night they reached another deserted ambuscade, called Torna Munni, equally bare of food, and the remainder of the bags were now devoured. Those fortunate enough to obtain a strip first soaked slices of it in water, next beat it between two stones, then scraped off the hair with their hunters' knives, and, roasting it in the fire, ate it leisurely in small pieces. "I can assure the reader," says Oexmelin, "that a man can live on this fare, but he can hardly get _very fat_." Frequent draughts of water (which, by good fortune, they had at hand) seasoned this not very palatable food of men accustomed to revel on venison and brandy. "Some who were never out of their mothers' kitchens," says Esquemeling, "may ask how these pirates could eat and digest those pieces of leather, so hard and dry, whom I answer, that could they once experience what hunger, or rather famine, is, they would find the way as the pirates did." The fifth day at noon they arrived at a place called Barbacoa, where there were more deserted barricades, and the adjacent plantations were equally bare of either man, animal, or plant. Searching with all the zeal and perseverance of hungry men, they found at last, buried in the floor of a cave lately hewn out of the rock, two sacks of flour, two jars of wine, and some plantains, and Morgan generously divided these among the most exhausted of his troops, some being now nearly dead with famine. The flour they mixed with water, and, wrapping the dough in banana leaves, baked it in the fire. Somewhat refreshed, they renewed their march with increased skill and vigour. The lagging men they placed in the canoes, till they reached at night some deserted plantations known as the Tabernillas, where they slept. On the sixth day they marched slowly, after resting a time from real weakness, some of the strongest being sent into the woods to pluck berries and pull roots, many even eating leaves and grass. The same day at noon they arrived at a plantation. Eagerly foraging here, but not expecting to find anything, they turned a little from the road, and came upon a barn full of maize in the husk. Beating down the door, they fell upon it and devoured it as rapaciously as a herd of swine, till they fell off satiated. A distribution was then made of it to each man, for hunger does not care for cooking. Loaded with this grain they continued their march in high spirits for about two hours, when they came suddenly on about 200 Indians, and soon after passed a deserted ambuscade. Those who had maize still left threw it away, thinking that the Spaniards and better food were at hand. These archers were on the opposite side of the river. The Buccaneers, firing, killed a few, and pursued the others as far as Santa Cruz. The nimblest escaped by swimming, and two or three adventurers, who waded after them, were pierced with arrows at the ford. The Indians, as they fled, hooted--"Ah perros Ingleses, à la savanah, à la savanah:" "_English dogs, English dogs, come to the savannah._" Passing the river they were now compelled to begin their march on the opposite side. There was little sleep that night, but great dejection, and murmurs arose against Captain Morgan and his conduct. He was blamed for not having brought provisions, and for not having yet met the Spaniards; condemned for irreconcilable errors, and reviled for even his past successes. Some declared they would return home, others would willingly have done so, yet were afraid to retreat; but a large party declared they would rather die than go back a step. One of the guides, perhaps bribed by Morgan, promised that it should not be long before they met with people from whom they should derive no small advantage, and this comforted them. A tinge of superstition would have soon converted this into one of those prophecies by which Cromwell and Cortes both consoled their desponding troopers. On the seventh morning, expecting enemies, the men all cleaned their arms, and every one discharged his musket and pistols without ball to let the Spaniards hear they were coming, and that their ammunition was not damaged. Leaving Santa Cruz, where they had rested, they crossed the river in their canoes, and arrived at the town of Cruz. At some distance from Cruz they had beheld to their great joy a great smoke rising above the roofs, which they thought arose from kitchen chimneys, and quickening their pace they began to laugh, and shout, and leap,--joking at the Spanish waste of fuel, and saying, "the Spanish cooks are roasting meat for our dinner when we have mastered their masters;" but as the smoke grew thicker, they began to think that the enemy were burning some houses that interfered with the fire of the entrenchments. Two hours after, on arriving panting and hot at Cruz, they found the place deserted and stripped, and no meat, but many fires, for every Spaniard had burnt his own house, and only the royal store-house and stables were left standing. A few crackling ruins were all that remained of the great halfway house between Chagres and Panama, for here the Chagres merchandise was always landed and transported to Panama on the backs of mules, being distant only twenty-six Spanish leagues from the river of Chagres, and eight from Panama. The disappointed Buccaneers spent the remainder of the day at Cruz in seeking food and resting. Every cat and dog was soon killed and eaten, for the cattle had been all driven off. Morgan, growing now more strict in discipline, gave orders that no party of less than 100 men should leave the town. Five or six Englishmen who disobeyed the order were killed by the Indians. In the king's stables fifteen or sixteen jars of Peruvian wine were found, and a leather sack full of biscuit. Morgan, afraid that his men would fall into excesses, spread a report that the Spaniards had poisoned the wine--a report confirmed by the violent sickness of all who drank of it; although half-starved men, fed for a week on vegetable refuse, would have been injured by any excess. It was, however, eagerly drunk, and would have been had there been death in every cup. This sickness detained them a day at Cruz. The canoes, being now useless, were sent back, guarded by sixty men, to join the other boats, one alone being hid in a thicket for fear of any emergency or any necessity arising, and to transmit intelligence to the vessels. He feared that, if left at Cruz, they might be captured, and would at least require an extra guard. On the eighth day at morning Morgan reviewed his troop, and found he had 1100 able and resolute men still at his back. He persuaded them that their comerade who was carried off by the Indians had returned, having only lost his way in the woods, fearing they might be discouraged at his disappearance. He then chose a band of the best marksmen as a forlorn hope, and a "hundred of these men," says Oexmelin, "are worth six hundred of any other nation." He divided the remainder into a van and wings, knowing that he should have to pass many places where not more than two men could pass abreast. After ten hours' march they arrived at a place called _Quebrada Obscura_, a dark wooded gorge where the sunlight rarely entered. Here, on a sudden, a shower of 300 or 400 arrows poured down upon them, killing eight or nine men, and wounding ten. These arrows came from an Indian ambuscade hid on a wooded and rocky mountain, perforated by a natural arch, through which only one laden beast could pass. The Buccaneers, though they could see nothing but rocks and trees, instantly returned the fire, and two Indians rolled down into the path. One of these, who appeared to be a chief, for he wore a coronet of variegated feathers, attempted to stab an English adventurer with his javelin, but a companion, parrying the thrust with his sabre, slew the Indian. This brave man was, it is supposed, the leader of the ambuscade, for the savages seeing him fall took at once to flight, and never discharged another shaft. As they entered a wood the rest of the Indians fled to seize the next height, from whence they might observe them and harass their march. The Buccaneers found them too swift to capture, and pursued them in vain: but two or three of the wounded fugitives were found dead in the road. A few armed and disciplined men could have made this pass good against a hundred, but these Indians were now scattered and without a leader, and they had only fired at random, and in haste, through trees and thickets that intercepted their arrows. On leaving this defile the Buccaneers entered a broad prairie, where they rested while the wounded were tended. At a long distance before them they could see the Indians on a rocky eminence, commanding the road where they must pass. Fifty active men were dispatched to take them in the rear in the hopes of obtaining some prisoners, but all in vain, for the Indians were not only more agile but knew all the passes. Two hours after they were seen at about two gunshots' distance, on the same eminence from which they had been just driven, while the Buccaneers were now on an opposite height, and between them lay a wood. The Buccaneers supposed that a Spanish ambuscade was hid here, for whenever they came near enough the Indians cried out "À la savanah, à la savanah, cornudos perros Ingleses:" "To the savannah, to the savannah, you cuckold English dogs." Morgan sent 100 men to search this wood, and upon this the Spaniards and Indians came down from the mountain as if to attack them, but appeared no more. About night, a great rain falling, the Buccaneers marched faster, in order to prevent their arms getting wet, but they could find no houses to barrack in, for the Indians had burnt them all and driven away the cattle, hoping to starve out the men whom they could not drive out. They left the main road after diligent search, and found a few shepherds' huts, but too few to shelter all their company; they therefore piled their arms, and chose a small number from each company to guard them. Those who slept in the open air endured much hardship, the rain not ceasing all night. They made temporary sheds, which they covered with boughs, in order to sleep under a shelter, however imperfect; and sentinels were placed, Morgan being afraid of the Indians, who chose wet nights for their onslaughts, when fire-arms were often useless. Next morning very early, being the ninth of their tedious journey, they recommenced their march, Morgan bidding them all discharge their guns and then reload them, for fear of the wet having damped the powder. The fresh air of the morning, clear after the storm, was still about them, and the clouds had not yet yielded to the tropical sun as they pushed on over a path more difficult than before. In about two hours' time a band of twenty Spaniards began to appear in the distance, and the Indians were also visible, but Morgan could obtain no prisoners, though he offered a reward of 300 crowns for every Spaniard brought in. When pursued the enemy hid themselves in caves and eluded all search. At last, toiling slowly up a high mountain, the adventurers unexpectedly beheld from the top the South Sea glittering in the distance. This caused them as great joy as the sight of "Thalatta" did to the soldiers of Xenophon. They thought their expedition now completed, for to them victory was a certainty. They could discern upon the sea, never before beheld, a large ship and six small boats setting forth from Panama to the islands of Tavoga and Tavogilla, which were only six leagues distant. Fortune smiled upon them to-day, for, descending this mountain, they came into a grassy prairie valley, full of all sorts of cattle, which were being pursued by mounted Spaniards, who fled at the sight of the Buccaneers. Upon these animals Morgan's men rushed with the avidity of half-starved hunters, the eagerness of sailors to obtain fresh meat, and all the haste that brave men exhibit to get at an enemy. One shot a horse, another felled a cow, but the greater part slaughtered the mules, which were the most numerous. Some kindled fires, others collected wood, and the strongest hunted the cattle, while the invalids slew, and skinned, and flayed. The whole plain was soon alight with a hundred fires. The hungry men cut off lumps of flesh, carbonadoed them in the flame, and ate them half raw with incredible haste and ferocity. "They resembled," Esquemeling says, "rather cannibals than Christians, the blood running down their beards to the middle of their bodies." But no hunger, no fear, no passion threw Morgan off his guard. Hungry and weary himself, and sympathising with his men's hunger, he saw the danger of this reckless gluttony, which produced a reaction of inertness as dangerous as intoxication. Dreading surprise, for he was surrounded by enemies, he beat a false alarm, and seizing their arms, his men, ashamed of their excess, renewed their march. The remainder of the meat, half-roasted or quite raw, they strung to their bandoliers. "The very look of these men," says Esquemeling, "was enough to have terrified the boldest, for we know that in love as well as war, the eyes are the soonest conquered." Morgan, anxious at not having yet obtained a prisoner as guide, again despatched a vanguard of fifty men, who about evening saw in the distance 500 Spaniards, who shouted to them they knew not what. Soon after, almost at dusk, mounting a small eminence, they saw a better sight than even the South Sea--the highest steeples of Panama, bright in the sunset; upon this, like the German soldiers at the sight of the Rhine, the Buccaneers gave three cheers, to show their extreme joy, leaping and shouting, and throwing their hats into the air as if they had already won the victory. At the same time the drums beat stormily and proudly, and each man shot off his piece, while the red flag was displayed and waved in defiance of the Spaniard, and high above all the trumpet sounded. The camp was pitched for the night by the men, who waited impatiently for the morning when the battle should join; with equal pride and courage 200 mounted Spaniards shouted in return as they dashed up within musket shot, "To-morrow, to-morrow, ye dogs, we shall meet in the savannah;" and as they ended, their trumpet sounded clearer than even that of Morgan's. These horsemen were soon joined by several companies of infantry and several squadrons of cavalry, who wheeled round them within cannon shot. These troops had been despatched when the sounds of the Buccaneers' approach reached the gates of the city. There were still two hours of light, but Morgan determined not to fight till early in the morning, when he might be able to move freely in the unknown country, and when there would be a whole clear, bright day for the battle. As night drew on all the Spaniards retired to the city, excepting seven or eight troopers, who hovered about to watch the enemy's motions and give the alarm, if a night attack was contemplated. On his side Morgan placed double sentinels, and every now and then ordered false alarms to be beat to keep his men on the alert. Those who had any meat left ate it raw, as they had often done when hunters. No fires were allowed to be kindled, and the men lying, ready armed, on the grass, waited eagerly for the daylight. 120 cavaliers again joined the Spanish scouts, and affected to maintain a strict blockade, and the city all night played with its biggest guns upon the camp, but being at so great a distance did little harm to the Buccaneers. At daybreak of the tenth day of their march the Spaniards beat the _Diane_, and Morgan, replying heartily, began with great eagerness to push forward to the city, the Spaniards wheeling cautiously around his wings. One of the guides warned Morgan against the high road, which he knew would be blocked up and crowded with ambuscades, and the army defiled into a wood to the right, where the passage was so difficult that none but Buccaneers could have forced a way, "very irksome indeed," says Esquemeling. The Spaniards, completely baffled and astonished by this diversion, left their batteries in a hurry, and, without any distinct plan of attack, crowded out into the plain. After two hours' march the Buccaneers reached the top of a small hill. From this eminence they could now see their goal, and Panama, with all the roofs that hid its treasure, lay before them. Below, on the plain, they might also discern the Spanish army drawn up in battalia, awaiting their descent. Even Esquemeling admits that the forces seemed numerous. "There were two squadrons of cavalry, four regiments of foot, and a still more terrible enemy, a huge number of wild bulls, roaring and tossing their horns, driven by a great number of Indians, and a few negroes and mounted matadors." The historian, more truthful in his confessions than his boasts, says, "They were surprised with fear, much doubting the fortune of the day; yea, few or none there were but wished themselves at home, or at least free from the obligation of that engagement, it so nearly concerning their lives. Having been for some time wavering in their minds, they at last reflected on the strait they had brought themselves into, and that now they must either fight resolutely or die, for no quarter could be expected from an enemy on whom they had committed so many cruelties. Hereupon they encouraged one another, resolving to conquer or spend the last drop of their blood." They then divided themselves into three battalions, sending before 200 Buccaneers, very dexterous at their guns, who descended the hill, marching directly upon the Spaniards, and the battle closed. The Spanish cavalry uttered cries of joy, as if they were going to a bull-fight. The infantry shouted "Viva el rey!" and the vari-coloured silks of their doublets glistened in the sun. The Buccaneers, giving three cheers, charged upon the enemy. The forlorn hope Morgan despatched against the cavalry and the bulls. The cavalry galloped forward to meet them, but, the ground being marshy, they could not advance with speed, and sank one by one before the unceasing dropping fire of 200 Buccaneers, who fell on one knee and poured in a full volley of shot, the foot and horse in vain trying to break through this hot line of flame and death. The bulls proved as fatal to those who employed them, as the elephants to Porus. Driven on the rear of the Buccaneers, they took fright at the noise of the battle, a few only broke through the English companies, and trampled the red colours under foot, but these were soon shot by the old hunters; a few fled to the savannah, and the rest tore back and carried havoc through the Spanish ranks. The firing lasted for two hours; at the end of that time the cavalry and infantry had separated, and the troopers had fled, only about fifty of their number succeeding in escaping. The infantry, discouraged at their defeat, and despairing of success, fired off one more volley, and then threw down their arms; the victory was won. Morgan, having no cavalry, could not pursue, and a mountain soon hid the fugitives from the Buccaneers' sight, who would not follow, expecting the flight was a mere decoy to lure them into an ambuscade. The Buccaneers, weary and faint, threw themselves down to rest. A few Spaniards, found hiding in the bushes by the sea-shore, were at once slain, and several cordeliers belonging to the army, being dragged before Morgan, were pistolled in spite of all their cries and entreaties. A Spanish captain of cavalry was taken prisoner by the English musketeers, who had hitherto given no quarter, and confessed that the governor of Panama had led out that morning 2000 men, 200 bulls, 1450 horse, and twenty-four companies of foot, 100 men in each, sixty Indians, and some negroes. In the city, he said, were many trenches and batteries, and at the entrance a fort with fifty men and eight brass guns. The women and wealth had all been sent to Tavoga, and 600 men with twenty-eight pieces of cannon were inside the town, defended by ramparts of flour sacks. The ambuscade had been waiting fifteen days in the savannah, expecting Morgan. On reviewing their men, the English found a much greater number of killed and wounded than they had expected, so Esquemeling confesses, but does not give the number. Oexmelin puts the loss at only two killed and two wounded, an incredible statement, trustworthy as he generally is. The Spaniards lost 600 men. "The pirates, nothing discouraged," says the former historian, "seeing their number so diminished, but rather filled with greater pride, perceiving what huge advantage they had obtained against their enemies, having rested some time, prepared to march courageously towards the city, plighting their oaths one to another, that they would fight till not a man was left alive. With this courage they recommenced their march, either to conquer or be conquered, carrying with them all the prisoners." They avoided the high road from Vera Cruz, on which the Spaniards had placed a battery of eight pieces of cannon, and selecting that from Porto Bello, they advanced to the town before the people could rally, and while the exaggerated rumours of the defeat were still uncontradicted. Trembling fugitives filled the streets, and terror was in every face. The Spaniards fought desperately, but without hope. In spite of Morgan's endeavour to maintain strict discipline, his men began to undervalue the enemy, and to advance straggling and reckless. The Spaniards, observing this, fired a broadside, killing twenty-five or thirty of the vanguard at the first discharge, and wounding nearly as many, but before they could reload were overpowered and slain at their guns, the Buccaneers stabbing all whom they met. Of this attack, Esquemeling gives the following graphic but rambling account: "They found much difficulty in their approach to the city, for within the town the Spaniards had placed many great guns at several quarters, some charged with small pieces of iron, and others with musket bullets. With all these they saluted the pirates at their approaching, and gave them full and frequent broadsides, firing at them incessantly, so that unavoidably they shot at every step great numbers of men. But neither these manifest dangers of their lives, nor the sight of so many as dropped continually at their sides, could deter them from advancing, and gaining ground every moment on the enemy; and though the Spaniards never ceased to fire and act the best they could for their defence, yet they were forced to yield after three hours' combat, and the pirates having possessed themselves, killed and destroyed all that attempted in the least to oppose them." Morgan was now master of Panama, as he had been of St. Catherine's, la Rancheria, Maracaibo, and Gibraltar, but his vigilance did not yet relax. As soon as the first fury of their entrance was over, he assembled his men, and commanded them, under great penalties, not to drink or taste any wine, as he had been informed by a prisoner that it had been poisoned by the Spaniards. Though much wealth had been hidden, great warehouses of merchandise, they rejoiced to find, were still well stocked with silks, cloths, and linens. Morgan's only fear now was, that with so small a body of men as remained to him, the Spaniards might rally, or his men, grown intoxicated by success and intent on plunder, be cut off without resistance. Having placed guards at all the important points of defence within and without the city, he ordered twenty-five men to seize a boat laden with merchandise, that owing to the low water in the harbour could not put out to sea. The command of this vessel he gave to an English captain. The houses of Panama were built chiefly of cedar, and a few of stone. Fortunately, Michael Scott sketches for us nearly the whole scenery of Morgan's march. One side of the harbour of Chagres is formed, he says, by a small promontory that runs 500 yards into the sea. This bright little bay looks upon an opposite shore, long and muddy, and covered with mangroves to the water's brink. On the uttermost bluff is a narrow hill, with a fort erected on its apex. The rock is precipitous on three sides. The river of Chagres is about 100 yards across, and very deep. It rolls sluggishly along, through a low, swampy country. It is covered down to the water with thick sedges and underwood, and where the water is stagnating, generates mosquitoes and fevers. The gigantic trees grow close to the water, and are laced together by black, snake-like withes. Here and there, black, slimy banks of mud slope out near the shore, and on these, monstrous alligators roll or sleep, like logs of rotting drift-wood. For some miles below Cruz, where the river ceases to be navigable by canoes, oars are laid aside, and long poles used to propel the boats, like punts, over the shoals. Panama is distant about seven leagues from Cruz. The roads are only passable for mules: in some places it has been hewn out of the rock, and zig-zags along the face of hills, in parts scarcely passable for two persons meeting. "The scenery on each side is very beautiful, as the road winds for the most part amongst steeps, overshadowed by magnificent trees, among which birds of all sizes, and of the most gorgeous plumage, are perpetually glancing, while a monkey every here and there sits grimacing and chattering overhead. The small, open savannahs gradually grow larger, and the clear spaces widen, until the forest you have been travelling under breaks into beautiful clumps of trees, like those of a gentleman's park, and every here and there are placed clear pieces of water, spreading out full of pond-turtle, and short grass, that sparkles in the dew." As you approach the town, the open spaces become more frequent, until at length you gain a rising ground, about three miles from Panama, where the view is enchanting. Below lies the city, and the broad Pacific, dotted with ships, lies broad and glassy beyond. Basil Hall, an accurate but less poetical observer, sketches the bay of Panama, its beach fringed with plantations shaded by groves of oranges, figs, and limes, the tamarinds surmounting all but the feathery tops of the cocoa-nut trees; the ground hidden with foliage, among which peep cane-built huts and canoes pulling to shore. Tavoga he describes as a tangle of trees and flowers. "The houses of the city, very curious and magnificent," says Esquemeling, "and richly adorned with paintings and hangings, of which a part only had been removed." The buildings were all stately, and the streets broad and well arranged. There were within the walls eight monasteries, a cathedral, and an hospital, attended by the religious. The churches and monasteries were richly adorned with paintings, and in the subsequent fire may have perished some of the masterpieces of Titian, Murillo, or Velasquez. The gold plate and fittings of these buildings the priests had concealed. The number of rich houses was computed at 2000, and the smaller shops, &c., at 5000 additional. The grandest buildings in the town were the Genoese warehouses connected with the slave trade; there were also long rows of stables, where the horses and mules were kept that were used to convey the royal plate from the South to the North Pacific Ocean. Before the city, like offerings spread before a throne, lay rich plantations and pleasant gardens. Panama was the city to which all the treasures of Peru were annually brought. The plate fleet, laden with bars of gold and silver, arrived here at certain periods brimming with the crown wealth, as well as that of private merchants. It returned laden with the merchandise of Panama and the Spanish main, to be sold in Peru and Chili, and still oftener with droves of negro slaves that the Genoese imported from the coast of Guinea to toil and die in the Peruvian mines. So wealthy was this golden city that more than 2,000 mules were employed in the transport of the gold and silver from thence to Porto Bello, where the galleons were loaded. The merchants of Panama were proverbially the richest in the whole Spanish West Indies. The Governor of Panama was the suzerain of Porto Bello, of Nata, Cruz, Veragua, &c., and the Bishop of Panama was primate of the Terra Firma, and suffragan to the Archbishop of Peru. The district of Panama was the most fertile and healthy of all the Spanish colonies, rich in mines, and so well wooded that its ship-timber peopled with vessels both the northern and the southern seas; its land yielded full crops, and its broad savannahs pastured innumerable herds of wild cattle. The Buccaneers found the booty in the half-devastated town ample beyond their expectations, in spite of all that had been destroyed, buried, or removed. The stores were still full of wealth, which not even a month of alarm had given the merchants time to remove to their overcharged vessels. Some rooms were choked with corn, and others piled high with iron, tools, plough-shares, &c., for Peru. In many was found "metal more attractive," in the shape of wine, olive oil, and spices, while silks, cloths, and linen lay around in costly heaps. Morgan, still afraid of surprise, resorted to a reckless scheme to avert the danger. The very night he entered Panama he set fire to a few of the chief buildings, and before morning the greater part of the city was in a flame, although the first blaze had been detected in the suburbs. No one knew his motive, and few that the enemy had not done it. He carefully spread a report, both among the prisoners and his own people, that the Spaniards themselves were the authors of the fire. The citizens and even the English strove to extinguish the flames, by blowing up some houses with gunpowder and pulling down others, but being of wood, the fire spread rapidly from roof to roof. In less than half an hour a whole street was consumed. The Genoese warehouses and many of the slaves were burnt, and only one church was left standing; 200 store buildings were destroyed. Oexmelin seems to lament chiefly the slaves and merchandise, and scarcely even affects a regret for the stately city. The ruins continued to smoke and smoulder for a month, and at daybreak of the morning after their arrival, little of the great city they had lately seen glorious in the sunset remained but the president's house, where Morgan and his staff lodged, a small clump of muleteers' cottages, and two convents, that of St. Joseph and that of the Brothers of the Redemption. Still fearful of surprise, the adventurers encamped outside the walls in the fields, from a wish to avoid the confusion, and in order to keep together in case of an attack by a superior force. The wounded were put into the only church that had escaped the fire. The next day Morgan despatched 160 men to Chagres to announce his victory, and to see that his garrison wanted for nothing. They met whole troops of Spaniards running to and fro in the savannah, but, in spite of their expectations, they never rallied. In the afternoon the Buccaneers re-entered the city, and selected houses of the few left to barrack in. They then dragged all the available cannon they could find and placed them round the church of the Fathers of the Trinity, which they entrenched. In this they placed in separate places the wounded and the prisoners. The evening they spent in searching the ruins for gold, melted or hidden, and found much spoil, especially in wells and cisterns. A few hours after, Morgan's vessels returned with three prizes, laden with plate and other booty, taken in the South Sea. The day they sailed, arriving at one of the small islands of refuge near Panama, they took a sloop with its crew of seven men, belonging to a royal Spanish vessel of 400 tons, laden with church plate and jewels, removed by the richest merchants in Panama; there were also on board all the religious women of the nunnery, with the valuable ornaments of their church, and she was so deeply laden as not to require ballast. It carried only seven guns and a dozen muskets, had no more sails than the "uppermost of the mizen," was short of ammunition and food, and even of water. The Buccaneers received this intelligence from some Indians who had spoken to the seamen of the galleon when they came ashore in a cock-boat for water. Had they given chase they might have easily captured it, but Captain Clark let the golden opportunity slip through his hands. Thinking himself sure of his prize as he had got her sloop, his men spent the night in drinking the rich wines they found in the sloop, and reposing in the arms of their Spanish mistresses, the more beautiful for their tears and despair. During these debaucheries the galleon slipped by and was no more seen, and so they lost a prize of greater value than all the treasure found in Panama. In the morning, weary of the revel, they crowded all sail and despatched a well-armed boat to pursue the cripple, ascertaining that the Spanish ship was in bad sailing order and incapable of making any resistance. In the islands of Tavoga and Tavogilla they captured several boats laden with merchandise. Informed by a prisoner of the probable moorings of the galleon, Morgan, enraged at her escape, sent every boat in Panama in pursuit of her, bidding them seek till they found her. They were eight days cruising from port to creek. Returning to the isles, they found here a large ship newly come from Payta, laden with cloth, soap, sugar, biscuit, and 20,000 pieces of eight; another small boat near was also taken and laden with the divided merchandise. With these glimpses of wealth the boats returned to Panama somewhat consoled for the loss of their larger prize. The Buccaneers' vessels now began to excite the astonishment of the Spaniards, they being the first Englishmen, since Drake, who had appeared as enemies on those seas. During this expedition Morgan had employed the rest of his men in scouring the country in daily companies of 200, one party relieving another, and perpetually bringing in flocks of pale and bleeding prisoners, or mules laden with treasure. Some tortured the captives, others explored the mines, and the rest burnt glittering heaps of gold and silver stuffs, merely to obtain the metal, expecting to have to fight their way back to their ships at Chagres, and not wishing to be encumbered with unwieldy bundles on that toilsome and dangerous march. Morgan, complaining much of the fruitless labours of his foragers, at last placed himself at the head of 350 men, and sallied into the country to torture every wealthy Spaniard he could meet. The following anecdote presents us with such a complete picture of the demoralisation of a panic, that it reminds us of Thucydides' description of Athens during the plague, or Boccaccio's of Florence during the raging of the pest. On one occasion Morgan's men met with a poor Spaniard, who, during the general confusion, had strolled into a rich man's house and dressed himself in the costume of a merchant of rank. He had just stripped off his rags, and, first luxuriating in a change of costly Dutch linen, had slipped on a pair of breeches of fine red taffety, and picking up the silver key of some coffer, had tied it to one of his points. Esquemeling represents the man as a poor retainer of the house. He was still wondering childishly at his unwonted finery, when the Buccaneers broke into the house and seized him as a prize. Finding him richly dressed and in a fine house, they believed him at once to be the master. His story they treated as a subtle invention. In vain he pointed to the black rags he had thrown off--in vain he protested, by all the saints, that he lived on charity, and had wandered in there and put on the clothes by the merest chance, and without a motive but of venial theft. Spying the little key at his girdle they became sure that he lied, and they demanded where he had hid his cabinet. They had at first laughed at his ingenious story--they now grew angry at his denials of wealth. They stretched him on the rack and disjointed his arms, they twisted a cord round his wrinkled forehead "till his eyes appeared as big as eggs, and were ready to fall out," and as he still refused to answer, they hung him up and loaded him with stripes. They then cut off his nose and ears, singing his face with burning straw till he could not even groan or scream, and at last, despairing of obtaining a confession, gave him over to their attendant band of negroes to put him to death with their lances. "The common sport and recreation of the pirates," says Esquemeling, "being such cruelties." They spared no sex, age, or condition; priest or nun, peasant or noble, old man, maiden, and child were all stretched on the same bed of torture. They granted no quarter to any who could not pay a ransom, or who would not pay it speedily. The most beautiful of the prisoners became their mistresses, and the virtuous were treated with rigour and cruelty. Captain Morgan himself seduced the fairest by alternate presents and threats. There were women found base enough to forsake their religion and their homes to become the harlots of a pirate and a murderer. But to his iron heart love found a way, and enervated the mind of the man whom nothing before could soften. After ten days spent in the country beyond the walls, Morgan returned to Panama, and found a shipload of Spanish prisoners newly arrived. Amongst these was a woman of exquisite beauty, the wife of a Spanish merchant, then absent on business in Peru. He had left her in the care of some relations, with whom she was captured. Esquemeling says: "Her years were few, and her beauty so great, as, peradventure, I may doubt whether in all Christendom any could be found to surpass her perfections, either of comeliness or honesty." Oexmelin, a more skilful observer, and who saw her, being a sharer in the expedition, describes her hair as ink black, and her complexion of dazzling purity. Her eyes were piercing, and the Spanish pride, usually so cold and repulsive, served in her only as a foil to her surpassing beauty, and to attract respect. The roughest sailors and rudest hunters grew eloquent when they praised her. The common men would willingly have drawn swords for such a prize. But their commander was already the slave of her whom he had captured. His demeanour changed: he was no longer brutal and truculent: he became sociable in manner, and more attentive to the richness of his dress, for lovers grow either more careless or more regardful of their attire. The Buccaneer's aspect was changed. He separated the lady from the other prisoners, and treated her with marked respect. An old negress, who waited on her, served at once as an attendant and a spy. She was told to assure her mistress, that the Buccaneers were gentlemen and no thieves, and men who knew what politeness and gallantry were as well as any. The lady wept and entreated to be placed with the other prisoners, for she had heard that her relations were afraid of some plot against her good fame. The lady, like other Spanish women, had been told by their priests and husbands, that the Buccaneers had the shape of beasts and not of men. The more intelligent reported they were robbers, murderers, and heretics; men who forswore the Holy Trinity, and did not believe in Jesus Christ. "The _oaths_ of _Morgan_," says Esquemeling, with most commendable gravity, "_soon convinced her that he had heard of a God_." It was said, that a woman of Panama who had long desired to see a pirate, on their first entrance into the city cried out, "Jesu Maria, the thieves are men, like the Spaniards, after all;" and some volunteers, when they went out to meet Morgan's army, had promised to bring home a pirate's head as a curiosity. Morgan, refusing to restore the beauty to her friends, treated her with more flattering care than before. Tapestries, robes, jewels, and perfumes, lay at her disposal. Such kindness, after all, was cheap generosity, and part of this treasure may even have been her husband's. In her innocence, she began to think better of the Buccaneers. They might be thieves, but they were not, she found, atheists, nor very cruel, for Captain Morgan sent her dishes from his own table. She at first received his visits with gratitude and pleasure, surprised at the rough, frank kindness of the seaman, and loudly denounced his slanderers, that had so cruelly attempted to poison her mind against him, her guardian and protector. The snares were well set, and the bird was fluttering in. But Heaven preserved her, and she passed through the furnace unhurt. Morgan soon threw off his disguise, and offered her all the treasures of the Indies if she would become his mistress. She refused his presents of gold and pearl, and resisted all his artifices. In vain he tried alternately kindness and severity. He threatened her with a thousand cruelties, and she replied, that her life was in his hands, but that her body should remain pure, though her soul was torn from it. On his advancing nearer, and threatening violence, she drew out a poignard, and would have slain him or herself, had he not left her uninjured. Enraged at her pride, as he miscalled her virtue, he determined to break her spirit by suffering. She was stripped of her richest apparel, and thrown into a dark cellar, with scarcely enough food allowed her to support life, and the chief demanded 30,000 piastres as her ransom, to prevent her being sold as a slave in Jamaica. Under this hardship the lady prayed like a second Una daily to God, for constancy and patience. Morgan, now convinced of her purity, and afraid of his men, who already began to express openly their sympathy with her sufferings, to account for his cruelty, accused her to his council of having abused his kindness by corresponding with the Spaniards, and declared that he had intercepted a letter written in her own hand. "I myself," says Esquemeling, "was an eye-witness of the lady's sufferings, and could never have judged such constancy and chastity to be found in the world, if my own eyes and ears had not assured me thereof." Amid the blood, and dust, and vapour of smoke, the virtue of this incomparable lady shines out like a pale evening star, visible above all the murky crimson of an autumn sunset. A new danger now arose to Morgan from this adventure, for the seamen began to murmur, saying that the love of this beautiful Spaniard kept them lingering at Panama, and gave the Spaniards time to collect their forces, and surprise them on their return. But Morgan, having now stayed three weeks, and nothing more being left to plunder, gave orders to collect enough mules to carry the spoil to Cruz, where it could be shipped for Chagres, and so sent homeward. There can be no doubt that various causes had for some time been undermining the long subsisting attachment between Morgan and his men. He had shown himself a slave to the passions which enchained their own minds, and their riches perhaps made them independent, and therefore mutinous. It was while the mules were collecting that he became aware of the loaded mine over which he stood. A plot was discovered, in which there were 100 conspirators. They had resolved to seize the two vessels they had captured in the South Sea, and with these to take possession of an island, which they could fortify for a stronghold. They would then fit out the first large Spanish vessel they could obtain, and with a good pilot and a bold captain start privateering on their own account, and work home by the straits of Magellan. As the spoil had not yet been divided, it is probable that all these men had broken the Buccaneer oath, and had secreted part of the plunder. They had already hidden in private places, cannons, muskets, provisions, and ammunition. They were on the very point of raising the anchor, when one of them betrayed the scheme, and Morgan at once ordered the vessel to be dismasted and the rigging burnt. The vessels he would also have destroyed, but these he spared at the intercession of the friend he had appointed their captain. From this time all confidence seems to have ceased between Morgan and his men. Many a king has been made a tyrant by the detection of a conspiracy. The men dreaded his vengeance, and he their treachery. From this hour he appears to have resolved to enrich himself and his immediate friends at any risk, leaving the French to shift for themselves. It is not improbable but that the old French and English feud may have had something to do with this quarrel. In war it ceased, but rankled out again in peace. The French seem to have been his greatest enemies, and the English friendly or indifferent. This distinction is visible even in the historians, for Esquemeling speaks of him with mere distrust, and Oexmelin with bitter hatred. In a few days the mules were ready, and the gold packed in convenient bales, for Spanish or English gold it was all one to the mules. The costly church plate was beaten up into heavy shapeless lumps, and the heavier spoil was left behind or destroyed. Better burn it, they thought, than leave it to the accursed Spaniard, for we always hate those whom we have injured. The artillery of the town being carefully spiked, and all ready to depart, Morgan informed his prisoners that he was about to march, and that he should take with him all those who were either unable or unwilling at once to bring in their ransom. The sight was heart-rending, and the panic general. At his words, says the historian, there was not one but trembled, not one but hurried to write to his father, his brother, or his friends, praying for instant deliverance or it would be too late. The slaves were also priced, and hostages were sent to collect the money. While this was taking place, a party of 150 men were sent to Chagres to bring up the boats and to look out for ambuscades, it being reported that Don Juan Perez de Guzman, the fugitive president of Panama, had entrenched himself strongly at Cruz, and intended to dispute the passage. Some prisoners confessed that the president had indeed so intended, but could get no soldiers willing to fight, though he had sent for men as far as Carthagena; for the scattered troopers fled at the sight of even their own friends in the distance. Having waited four days impatiently for the ransom, Morgan at last set out on his return on the 24th of February, 1671. He took with him a large amount of baggage, 175 beasts of burden laden with gold, silver, and jewels, and about 600 prisoners, men, women, children, and slaves, having first spiked all the cannon and burnt the gun-carriages. He marched in good order for fear of attack, with a van and rear-guard, and the prisoners guarded between the two divisions. The departure was an affecting sight, as even the two historians, who were Buccaneers themselves and eye-witnesses, admit. Lamentations, cries, shrieks, and doleful sighs of women and children filled the air. The men wept silently, or muttered threats between their teeth, to avoid the blows of their unpitying drivers. Thirst and hunger added to their sufferings. Many of the women threw themselves on their knees at Morgan's feet and begged that he would permit them to return to Panama, there to live with their dear husbands and children in huts till the city could be rebuilt. But his fierce answer was, that he did not come there to hear lamentations, but to seek money, and that if that was not found, wherever it was hid, they should assuredly follow him to Jamaica. All the selfishness and all the goodness of each nature now came to the surface. The selfish fell into torpid and isolated despair--the good forgot their own sufferings in trying to relieve those of others. Some gazed at each other silently and hopelessly; others wailed and wept, a few cursed and raged. Here stood one mourning for a brother--there another lamenting a wife. Many believed that they should never see each other again; but would be sold as slaves in Jamaica. The first evening the army encamped in the middle of a green savannah on the banks of a cool and pleasant river. This was a great relief to the wretched prisoners, who had been dragged all day through the heat of a South American noon by men themselves insensible to climate--urged forward by the barrels of muskets and blows from the butts of pikes. Some of the women were here seen begging the Buccaneers, with tears in their eyes, for a drop of water, that they might moisten a little flour for their children, who hung crying at their parched and dried-up breasts. The next day, when they resumed the march, the shrieks and lamentations were more terrible than before. "They would have caused compassion in the hardest heart," says Esquemeling; "but Captain Morgan, as a man little given to mercy, was not moved in the least." The lagging Spaniards were driven on faster with blows, till some of the women swooned with the intense heat, and were left as dead by the road-side. Those who had husbands gave them the children to carry. The young and the beautiful fared best. The fair Spaniard was led between two Buccaneers, still apart from the rest. She wept as she walked along, crying that she had entrusted two priests in whom she relied to procure her ransom money, 30,000 piastres, from a certain hidden place, and that they had employed it in ransoming their friends. A slave had brought a letter to the lady and disclosed the treachery. Her complaint being told to Morgan he inquired into it, and found it to be true. The religious men confessed their crime, but declared they had only borrowed the money, intending to repay it in a week or so. He therefore at once released the lady, and detained the monks in her place, taking them on to Chagres and despatching two men to obtain their ransom. On arriving at Cruz the mules were unloaded, preparatory to embarkation. The Buccaneers encamped round the king's warehouse, where it was stored. Three days were given to collect the ransom. The Spaniards, tardy or unwilling in the collection, brought in the money the day after. Vast quantities of corn, rice, and maize were collected here for victualling the ships. Morgan embarked 150 slaves, and a few poor and obstinate Spaniards who had not yet paid their ransom. The monks were redeemed, and escaped happy enough. A part of the Buccaneers marched by land. Many tears of joy and sorrow were shed when the prisoners and those who were liberated took farewell. On reaching Barbacoa the division of the spoil began. Mustering his men, Morgan compelled them all to swear they had concealed nothing, even of the smallest value, and, what was more unusual, he ordered them all to be individually searched from top to toe, down even to the very soles of their shoes. This search was suspicious and insulting. The Frenchmen, hot-blooded and mutinous, would have openly resisted had they not been in the minority. Morgan allowed himself to be first searched to lessen the general discontent, and one man in every company was employed as searcher. No precautions were neglected that could be suggested by long experience of plundering. This unusual vigilance was a mere cloak for Morgan's own dishonesty. Every man was now compelled to discharge his musket before the searchers, that they might be sure no precious stones were hidden in the barrel. These searchers were generally the lieutenants of each crew, and had all taken an additional oath to perform their duty with fidelity. The murmurs against Morgan had now reached such a height, and were so hourly increasing, that many Frenchmen threatened to take his life before they reached Jamaica. The more temperate controlled the younger and the more impetuous, and the band reached Chagres without any revolt. They found the garrison short of provisions and glad to be relieved, but the wounded had nearly all died of their wounds. From Chagres Morgan sent a great boat to Porto Bello with all the St. Catherine's prisoners, and demanded a ransom for sparing the castle of Chagres. The people of Porto Bello replied they would not give one farthing, and he might burn it as he chose. The day after their arrival, Morgan divided the booty. It amounted to only 443,000 pounds, estimating at ten piastres the pound. The jewels were sold unfairly, the admiral and his cabal buying the greater part very cheap, having already, it was believed, retained all the best of the spoil. Every one had expected at least 1000 pieces each, and was disappointed and indignant at receiving only about 200. There was an end now to all co-operation between English and French adventurers, and the hopes of a Buccaneer republic were at an end for ever. The murmurs again rose incontrollably high, and some proposed to seize Morgan and force him to a fair division. The suspected admiral, trying in vain to pacify them, and finding he could obtain no price for Chagres, divided the provisions of the fort among the vessels, removed the cannon and ammunition, then demolished the fortifications, and burnt the buildings. Suddenly taking alarm, or more probably following a preconcerted plan, Morgan sailed out of the harbour without any signal or notice, and hurried to Jamaica, followed by four English vessels, whose captains had been his confidants. In the first paroxysm of their rage, the French adventurers would have pursued Morgan, and attacked his vessel, but he escaped while they were still hesitating. We shall find him finally settled in Jamaica, and married to the daughter of the chief person of the island, a sure proof, says the indignant and philosophical Oexmelin, that any one is esteemed in this world provided he has money. The same vivacious writer gives a lively picture of the rage of the crews at the treacherous flight of Morgan. They shouted, swore, stamped, clenched their fists, gnashed their teeth, and tore their hair, fired off their pistols in the air, and brandished their arms, with imprecations loud and deep. They longed for the plunder they had lost, and longed still more eagerly for revenge. They never now mentioned the Welsh name but with an execration. Strange anomaly of the human mind, that men who lived by robbery, should be astonished at a small theft committed by a comrade! In the first bitterness of their vexation, they drew their sabres, and hewed and thrust at their imaginary enemy. They bared their arms, and pointed out to each other the cicatrices of their half-healed wounds. Confirmations of the admiral's treachery reached them from every side. They remembered that Morgan had been latterly unusually reserved and unsociable, closeting himself with a few English confidants, to whom he had been seen whispering even during public conferences. He had, it was now recollected, grown silent during all discussions, and more particularly when the booty was mentioned. Oexmelin (a surgeon) also mentions, that on one occasion, as he was visiting a wounded Buccaneer, Morgan came up to the hammock, and said in English, thinking he could not be overheard, "Courage, get soon well, you have helped me to conquer, and you must help me to profit by the conquest." Another day, as Oexmelin was searching by the river for a medical herb, he turned round suddenly, and saw Morgan secreting something in the corner of a canoe, and looking frequently over his shoulder to see if he was observed. When he observed Oexmelin, he looked troubled, and, coming up, asked him what he was doing there, to which the surgeon made no answer, but, stooping down, picked the plant he was in search of, and began to tell him its properties. Morgan turned off the subject, beginning to converse on indifferent topics, and, although the proudest of men, insisted on accompanying him home. Oexmelin took care to find an opportunity afterwards to rummage the canoe, but found nothing; but this same canoe he always observed Morgan took great care of, and never permitted to row out of his sight. But these stories none had dared to utter, for since the victory of Panama, the admiral, always proud, sensual, and cruel, had grown every day more stern, and had rendered himself dreaded by his severities. The adventurers sought for a long time some means of avenging themselves on Morgan for his successful treachery. They at last heard that he had resolved to take possession of St. Catherine's island, being apprehensive of the governor of Jamaica. In this spot he had determined to fortify himself, renew his Buccaneering, and defy both open enemies and treacherous friends. The Buccaneers agreed to waylay him on his passage, and carry him off, with his wife, children, and ill-gotten treasure. They then planned either to kill him, or compel him to render an account of the spoil of Panama. But an unexpected accident saved Morgan, and defeated their scheme of vengeance. At the very crisis, a new governor, Lord G. Vaughan, arrived at Port Royal, and brought a royal order for Morgan to be sent to England to answer the complaints of the King of Spain and his subjects. Of his trial we hear nothing, but we soon after see the culprit knighted by Charles II., and appointed Commissioner of Admiralty for Jamaica. The king, who frolicked with Rochester, and smiled at the daring villany of Blood, had no scruples in disgracing knighthood by such an addition. In the autumn of 1680, the Earl of Carlisle, then governor of Jamaica, finding his constitution undermined by the climate, returned to England, leaving Morgan as his deputy. His opportunity of revenge had now come, and he remembered his old dangers of ruin and assassination. Many of the Buccaneers were hung by his authority, and some of them were delivered up to the governor of Carthagena. A new governor arrived, and terminated his cruelties, and the justice inspired by a personal hatred. He still remained commissioner. In the next reign he was thrown into prison, where he remained three years. Of his final fate we know nothing certain. CHAPTER III. THE COMPANIONS AND SUCCESSORS OF MORGAN. Dispersion of the fleet--Oexmelin's interview with the old Buccaneer--Adventure with Indians--Esquemeling's Escapes--1673. D'Ogeron's Escape from the Spaniards--1676. Buccaneers' Fight at Tobago against the Dutch--1678. Captain Cook captures a Spanish vessel--1679. Captains Coxen and Sharp begin their cruise. On the departure of Morgan, the Buccaneers, without food, and without leaders, underwent many sufferings, and remained uncertain what to do. Oexmelin and a few of his French friends being informed by a female slave that an old Buccaneer lived in the neighbourhood, determined to go to him and barter goods, as they were told that, although a Spaniard, such was his custom. Following the slave with great expectation, they reached the veteran's fort after about six hours' march. The Buccaneers' "peel" towers were scattered all over the West Indies, and Waterton mentions seeing the ruins of one near Demerara. This fort was defended by a fosse of immense depth, and by massy walls of an extraordinary thickness, flanked at each corner by a bastion well supplied with cannon. The Frenchmen displayed their colours and beat their drums as a greeting, yet no one appeared, and no one answered; but, at the end of a quarter of an hour, they saw a light in one of the bastions, and perceived a man about to discharge a cannon. Throwing themselves on their faces with professional dexterity, the shot flew over their heads, and they then rose and retreated out of range. Believing at once that they had been betrayed, for many dangers had made them suspicious, they were about to cut their guide to pieces, when, running from them, she cried to the gunner, "Why is your master false to his word? did he not promise to receive these gentlemen?" "It is true," cried the soldier, "but he has changed his mind; and if you and your people do not go off, I will blow out your brains." The Buccaneers, enraged at the insolence of this threat, and the capricious change of intention, were about to attempt to storm the place, when four Spaniards advanced and demanded a truce, in the name of their master. "We had," they explained, "been alarmed at your numbers, and feared foul play or treachery." The old adventurer was now willing to receive them, if they would send four of their band as ambassadors and hostages. Oexmelin was one of the four chosen. They found the old man, grey and venerable, seated between two others. He was so old and feeble that he could not speak audibly, but he smiled and moved his lips, and stroked his long white beard, as they entered, and they could observe that he was pleased to see once more the well-remembered dress of the Buccaneer seamen. His majestic bearing was impressive. Though he could not rise to welcome them, he bent his head in answer to their greetings, and beckoned to one of his attendants to speak for him. By his orders they were at once taken to his store-rooms, where they bartered their goods, and obtained all that they required. They first eagerly selected some brandy, and Oexmelin is never tired of repeating "ses gens l'aiment avec passion." On their way back to the ships with the guide, delighted at their success, the Spaniards who carried the goods they had bought told them their master's history. He was, it appeared, properly speaking, neither an adventurer nor a Castilian, but a Portuguese, who had lived long both with adventurers and with Spaniards. A Spanish ship had picked him up in a drifted canoe when quite a boy, and he had been employed among the slaves in a cocoa plantation, where he soon became a successful steward, and much beloved by his master. His patron sent every year a vessel to his plantation to be loaded with cocoa. One day, as the steward was on board superintending the lading, a sudden squall came on, snapped the cable, and drove them out to sea. He being a good pilot, and accustomed to navigation, attempted to put back to land as soon as the storm abated, but the slaves, with one voice, declared that they would not return, and that he should not take them, for they knew that their master would suspect, and would cruelly punish them. At that time the slightest offence of a slave was punished with death. The steward remonstrated with them; but the slaves resolved to be free, although they knew not where to steer. At this crisis the bark was pursued by a Buccaneer vessel, from which a storm for a short time released them, but they were eventually overtaken and captured. The Buccaneer captain brought these prisoners to the fortress they had just visited. Here he became again a faithful steward, and finally inherited the place at his master's death, and continued to trade with the Buccaneers, as his predecessor had done. The fortress had been originally built to repel the Spaniards, who had been several times beaten off with loss. It is very seldom that we can follow the Buccaneer to the last scene of all: he flashes across our scene from darkness to darkness, and we hear of him no more. In the present instance, Oexmelin enables us to fill up the vacuum and tell out the tale. In a subsequent voyage he returned to the old spot, the scene of an oft told story. Devastation had fallen upon the devastator, the fortress was completely demolished and no dwelling remained. He ascertained from the Spaniards that the old man had died and left his riches to his two sons, who, impatient of a slothful wealth, and with imaginations excited from their youth by the recital of Buccaneer adventures, had at last turned Flibustiers. Before their father's death they had often expressed a wish to conquer the country of the ferocious Bravo Indians, but he had always discouraged them from the dangerous and unprofitable expedition, being afraid of attacks from the Spaniards in their absence. They were never heard of again, but report was current that, having been shipwrecked, the two Buccaneers had been taken by the Indians, and killed and eaten. Leaving the Boca del Toro, about thirty leagues distant from Chagres, Oexmelin and his companions arrived at the country of the very dreaded Bravo Indians. These people were known to be warlike cannibals, cruel and very treacherous. They were expert archers, and could discharge their arrows, like the Parthians, even when in full retreat. They had axes and spears, and wore metal ornaments, the clash of which animated them to the charge. They carried tortoise-shells for shields, which covered their whole bodies, and were most to be dreaded when few in number and quite overpowered, for they would then throw themselves like wild-cats on the foe, and think only of destroying their enemy's life, regardless of their own. Morgan, who seems to have made every preparation for an extensive Buccaneer empire, had often sworn to totally destroy this nation which had slain so many shipwrecked men, and so frequently frustrated his plans. No Buccaneer historian ever seems to have reflected that these savages, rude as they were, fought as patriots defending their country. We sing of Tell and rave of Wallace, but we have no interest in a hero without breeches! These Indians had at first been friendly to the Buccaneers, who had sold them iron in exchange for food, but on one fatal occasion, at a Buccaneer debauch, a quarrel had arisen, and some Indians had been killed and their wives carried off. From this time irreconcilable hatred existed between the two people, and to be wrecked on the Bravo shore was equivalent to certain death. On reaching Cape Diego (so called, like many other points of land, from an old adventurer), Oexmelin was compelled by hunger to feed on crocodile eggs, which were found buried in the sand. Meeting here with some French adventurers, they all removed to an adjacent spot, where they caught turtle and salted it for the voyage. Ascending a river to obtain provisions, they surprised and killed two Indians, of whom one had a beard-case of tortoise-shell and another of beaten gold: the latter they took for a chief. Putting off from here, and meeting with contrary winds that drove them from Jamaica, they returned again to Chagres, and were pursued by a ship of Spanish build, which they feared had been sent from Carthagena to rebuild the fort. They attempted in vain to escape, and were clearing the decks, preparing to fight to the last, when the enemy hoisted the red flag, and proved to be one of their companions' vessels driven back by the _bise_, or north-east wind. They lost two days' sail by this accident, more than they could regain in a fortnight, and returned to the Boca del Toro to get provisions and kill sea-cows, and then passed on to the Boca del Drago. The islands here they knew to be inhabited, for the fragrance of the fruits was wafted on the sea wind. One day a fishing party gave chase to two Indians in a canoe, which they instantly drew ashore and carried with them into the woods. This boat, weighing above 2,000 lbs. and requiring 11 men afterwards to launch it, was made of wild cedar, roughly hewn; being nimble the savages both escaped the Buccaneers. A pilot who had been often in those parts, told them that a few years before, a Buccaneer squadron arriving in that place, the men went in canoes to catch the humming birds that swarmed round the flowering trees of the coast. They were observed by some Indians who had hid themselves in the trees, who, leaping down into the sea, carried off the boats and men before their companions could arrive to their aid. The admiral instantly landed 800 men to rescue the prisoners, but so many Indians collected that they found it necessary to retreat in haste to their ships. The next day the Buccaneers arrived at Rio de Zuera, but the Spaniards were all fled, leaving no provisions; they therefore filled their boats with plantains, coasting for a fortnight along the shore to find a convenient place to careen, for the vessel had now grown so leaky that slaves and men were obliged to work night and day at the pumps. Arriving at a port, called the Bay of Blevelt, from a Buccaneer who used to resort there, half the crew were employed to unload and careen the bark on the shore, and half to hunt in the woods--still much afraid of the Indians, though they had as yet seen none. The huntsmen shot several porcupines of great size, and many monkeys and pheasants. The men took great pleasure in the midst of their danger in this pursuit. They laughed to see the females carrying their little ones on their backs, just like the negro women, and they admired the love and fidelity which some showed when their friends were wounded, and were delighted when they pelted their pursuers with fruit and dead boughs. The men were obliged to shoot fifteen or sixteen to secure three or four, as even when dead they remained clinging to the trees, and remained so for several days, hanging by their fore-paws or their tails. When one was wounded the rest came chattering round him, and would lay their paws on the wound to stop the flow of blood, and others would gather moss from the tress to bandage the place, or, gathering certain healing herbs, chew them and apply them as a poultice. If a mother was killed the young ones would not leave the body till they were torn away. But these amusements were soon to come to an end. The Indians were upon their track. They had been now eight days hunting. It was the daybreak of the ninth day, and the fishermen and hunters were preparing their nets and guns to start for the sea and for the woods. The slaves were on the beach burning shells to make lime, which served instead of pitch for the vessels, and the women were drawing water at the wells which had been dug in the shore. A few of them were washing dishes, and others sewing, for they had risen earlier than usual. While the rest went to the wells, one of them lingered behind to pick some fruit that grew near the beach. Seeing suddenly some Indians running from the spot where she had left her companions, she ran to the tents, crying, "Indians, Indians, Christians, the Indians are come." The Buccaneers, running to arms, discovered that three of their female slaves were lying dead in the wood, pierced with fourteen or fifteen flint-headed arrows. These darts were about eight feet long, and as thick as a man's thumb; at one end was a wooden hook, tied on with a string, at the other, a case containing a few small stones. Searching the woods, no traces of Indians, or any canoes, were to be found, and the Buccaneers, fearing they should be surrounded and overpowered, re-embarked all their goods, and sailed in great haste and fear. They soon arrived at Cape Gracias à Dios, and rejoiced to find themselves once more among friendly Indians; and at a port where Buccaneer vessels often resorted, the rudest sailors giving thanks to God for having delivered them out of so many dangers, and brought them to a place of refuge. The Indians provided them with every necessary, and treated them with friendship. For an old knife or hatchet the men each bought an Indian woman, who supplied them with food. These people often went to sea with the Buccaneers, and, remaining several years, returned home with a good knowledge of French and English. They were used as fishermen, and for striking tortoises and manitees, one Indian being able to victual a vessel of 100 men. Oexmelin's crew having on board two sailors who could speak the Indian tongue, they were unusually well received. This nation was not more than 1700 in number, including a few negro slaves, who had swum ashore from a wreck, having murdered the Spanish crew, and, in their ignorance of navigation, stranded the vessel. Some of them cultivated the ground, and others wandered about hunting and fishing. They wore little clothes but a palm leaf hat, and a short apron, made of the bark of some tree. Their arms were spears, pointed with crocodile's teeth. They believed in a Supreme Being, and, as Esquemeling quaintly says, "believe not in nor serve the devil, as many other nations of America do, and hereby they are not so much tormented by him as other nations are." Their food was chiefly fruit and fish. They prepared pleasant and intoxicating liquors from the plantain, and from the seed of the palm, and at their banquets every guest was expected to empty a four-quart calabash full of achioc, as the palm drink was called, merely a whet to the feast to follow. Their achioc was as thick as gruel. When they were in love, they pierced themselves with arrows to prove their sincerity. When a youth wished to marry a maiden, the first question of the bride's father to the lover was, whether he could make arrows, or spin the thread with which they bound them. If he answered in the affirmative, the father called for a calabash of achioc, and he himself, the bride, and the bridegroom, all tasted of the beverage. When one of these hardy women was delivered, she rose, went to the nearest brook, washed and swathed the child, and went about her ordinary labour. When a husband died, the wife buried him, with all his spears, aprons, and ear jewels, and for fifteen moons after (a year) brought meat and drink daily to the grave. Some writers contend that the devil visited the graves, and carried away these offerings to the manes; but Esquemeling says, he knows to the contrary, having often taken away the food, which was always of the choicest and best sort. At the end of the year, an extraordinary custom prevailed. The widow had then to open the grave, and take out all the bones; she scraped, washed, and dried them in the sun; then placed them in a satchel, and for a whole year was obliged to carry them upon her back by day, and sleep upon them by night. At the end of the year, she hung up the bag at her door-post, or, if she was not mistress of her house, at the door of her nearest relation. A widow could not marry again till this painful ceremony was completed, and if an Indian woman married a pirate, the same custom prevailed. The negroes maintained the habits of their own countries. After refreshing themselves in this friendly region, the Buccaneers steered for the island de los Pinos, and, arriving in fifteen days, refitted their vessel, now become dangerously leaky. Half the crew were employed in careening, and half in fishing, and by the help of some of the Cape Gracias Indians who accompanied them they killed and salted a sufficient number of wild cattle and turtle to revictual the ship. In six hours they could capture fish sufficient for a thousand persons. "This abundance of provision," says Esquemeling, "made us forget the miseries we had lately endured, and we began to call one another again by the name of _brother_, which was customary among us, but had been disused in our miseries." They feasted here plentifully, and without fear of enemies, for the few Spaniards who were on the island were friendly, and past dangers grew mere dreams in the distance. Their only anxiety now was about the crocodiles, which swarmed in the island, and, when hungry, would devour men. On one occasion a Buccaneer and his negro slave, while hunting in the wood, were attacked by one of these monsters. With incredible agility it fastened upon the Englishman's leg, and brought him to the ground. The negro fled. The hunter, a robust and courageous man, drawing his knife, stabbed the crocodile to the heart, after a desperate fight, and then, tired with the combat and weak with loss of blood, fell senseless by its side. The negro, returning, from curiosity rather than compassion, to see how the duel had ended, lifted his master on his back and brought him to the sea-shore, a whole league distant, where he placed him in a canoe and rowed him aboard. After this, no Buccaneer dared to go into the woods alone, but the next day, sallying out in troops, they killed all the monsters they could meet. These animals would come every night to the sides of the vessel and attempt to climb up, attracted probably by the smell of food. One of these, when seized with an iron hook, instead of diving or swimming, began to mount the ladder of the ship, till they killed him with blows of pikes and axes. After remaining some time here they sailed for Jamaica, and arrived there in a few days after a prosperous voyage, being the first adventurers who had arrived there from Panama since Morgan. In 1673, when the war between the French and Hollanders (Dutch) was still raging, the inhabitants of the French West Indian colonies equipped a fleet to attack the Dutch settlements at Curaçoa, engaging all the Buccaneers that could be induced to join the white flag, either from hopes of plunder or from hatred to the Dutch. M. D'Ogeron, the Governor of Tortuga, the planner of this invasion, headed the fleet in a large vessel named after himself, built by himself, and manned by 500 picked adventurers. His unlucky star led them to misfortune. The new frigate ran upon the rocks near the Guadanillas Islands, and broke into a thousand pieces, during a storm near Porto Rico. Being at the time very near to land, the governor and all his men swam safe to shore. The next day, discovered by the Spaniards, they were attacked by a large force, who supposed they had come purposely to plunder the islands as the Buccaneers had done before. The whole country, alarmed, rose in arms. The shipwrecked men were surrounded by an overpowering army, who, finding them almost without arms, refused to give them quarter, slew the greater part without mercy, and made the remainder prisoners. Binding them with cords, two by two, they drove them through the woods into the open champaign. To all inquiries as to the fate of their commander, whom they could not distinguish from the rest, they replied that he had sunk with the wreck. D'Ogeron, following up this deception with French sagacity, behaved himself as a mere half-witted suttler, diverting the Spanish soldiers by his tricks and mimicry, and was the only Buccaneer whom they allowed to go at liberty. The troopers at their camp fires gave him scraps from their meals and rewarded him with more food than his companions. Among the prisoners there was also a French surgeon who had on former occasions done some service to the Spaniards, and him they also allowed to go at large. D'Ogeron agreed with him to attempt an escape at all risks, and after mature deliberation, they both agreed upon a plan, and succeeded in escaping safely into the woods, and in making their way to the sea-side. They determined to attempt to build a canoe, although unsupplied with any tool except a hatchet. By the evening they reached the sea-shore, to their great joy, and caught some shell fish on the beach from a shoal that ran in upon the sands in pursuit of their prey. Fire to roast them they obtained by rubbing two sticks together in the Indian fashion. The next morning early they began to cut down and prepare timber to build the canoe in which to escape to Vera Cruz. While they were toiling at their work they observed in the distance a large boat, which they supposed to contain an enemy, steering directly towards them. Retreating to the woods, they discovered as soon as it touched land that it held only two poor fishermen. These unsuspecting men they determined if possible to overpower, and to capture the boat. As the mulatto came on shore alone, with a string of calabashes on his back to draw water, they killed him with a blow of their axe, and then slew the Spaniard, who, alarmed at the sound of voices, was attempting in vain to push from the shore. Having filled the dead man's calabashes they set sail, using the precaution of taking the dead bodies with them out into the deep sea, in order to conceal their death from the Spaniards. They steered at once for Porto Rico, and passed on to Hispaniola. A fair wind soon brought them to Samana, where they found a party of their people. Leaving the surgeon to collect men at Samana, D'Ogeron sailed to Tortuga to collect vessels and crews to return and deliver his companions, and revenge his late disaster. He sailed eventually with 300 men, and took great precautions to prevent the Spaniards being aware of his coming, using only his lower sails in order that his masts should not rise above the horizon. In spite of this the Spaniards, informed of his approach, had placed troops of horse upon the shore at various assailable points. D'Ogeron landed his men under favour of a discharge from his great guns, which drove the horsemen into the woods, where, as he little suspected, the infantry lay in ambush. Eagerly pursuing, his men, who thought the victory their own, found themselves hemmed in on every side. Few escaped even to the ships. The Spaniards, cruel from the reaction of fear, cut off the limbs of the dead and carried them home as trophies. They lighted bonfires on the shore as tokens of defiance to the retreating fleet. The first prisoners were now treated worse than ever. Some of them were sent to Havannah and employed on the fortifications all day, and chained up like wild beasts at night to prevent their desperate attempts at escape. Many were sent to Cadiz, and from thence escaped over the Pyrenees into France, and, assembling together, like sworn members of a common brotherhood, returned by the first ship to Tortuga. These very men some time after equipped a small fleet, under command of Le Sieur Maubenon, which sacked Trinidad, and put the island to a ransom of 10,000 pieces of eight, and from thence proceeded to the Caraccas. The Buccaneers fought against the Dutch, in 1676, and helped the French to recover Cayenne, that had been taken by Vice-Admiral Binkes. After this conquest, M. D'Estrees attacked Tobago, but was repulsed with the loss of 150 killed, and 200 wounded. His ship, the _Glorieux_, of seventy guns, was blown up, and two others stranded; several of the Dutch vessels were, however, burnt. D'Estrees, returning to Brest, was ordered back to Tobago, with twenty sail of vessels of war, besides a great number of small craft. 1500 men were landed, and, approaching a fortified place called Le Cort, summoned Heer Binkes to surrender. The French began their attack by throwing fire-balls into the castle; the third grenade fell upon some loose powder in the path leading to the magazine, and blew it up. Heer Binkes and all his officers but one were killed. 500 French instantly stormed the works, killing all but 300 men, who were sent prisoners to France. D'Estrees then destroyed every fort and house in the island, and sailed away. It was in 1678 that the same Comte D'Estrees collected 1200 Buccaneers from Hispaniola, and twenty vessels of war, besides fire-ships, to capture Curaçoa, which could have been taken with 300 Buccaneers and three vessels. This fleet was, however, lost on the Isles d'Aves, as we shall describe in Dampier's voyage. In the year 1678, Captain Cook loaded his vessel with logwood, at Campeachy, and, while anchoring at the island of Rubia, on his way to Tobago, was captured by three Spanish men-of-war, who left his crew upon the shore, and carried off his ship and cargo. They had not lain there long before a Spanish sloop of sixteen men arrived, laden with cocoa and plate, and gave them opportunity for escape and for revenge. Borrowing muskets of the Dutch governor, they employed six of their men in seizing the sloop's boat as it came to land, and then embarked and took the larger vessel, leaving their prisoners bound upon the beach, to watch the combat that would decide their fate. Two men navigated, two more loaded the guns, and two others fired into the enemy as fast as they could pour their shot into the stern-ports. The Spaniards resisted stoutly for some time, but, seeing their priest and captain shot dead, threw their arms overboard, and cried for quarter. The Buccaneers gave the Dutch governor a handsome reward, with a recompence for the arms, and divided among themselves about £4,000 worth of plate. On arriving at Jamaica they burnt the prize, and embarked their goods for England. In the year of our Lord 1679, a Buccaneer fleet of five sail, commanded by Captains Coxen, Essex, Alliston, Rose, and Sharp, set sail from Port-Royal, and steered for the island of Pines, losing two vessels in their passage, at the Zamballos islands. They met a French ship, whose commission was only for three months, and showed its captain, with great exultation, their forged commission for three years, purchased for only ten pieces of eight. CHAPTER IV. THE CRUISES OF SAWKINS AND SHARP. Land at Darien--March Overland--Take Santa Maria--Sail to Panama--Ringrose is wrecked--Failure of Expedition--Driven off by Spanish Fleet--Coxen accused of cowardice--Sharp elected Commander--Plunder Hillo and take La Serena--Take Aries--Saved with difficulty--Conspiracy of slaves--Land at Antigua--Return to England--Sharp's trial--Seizes a French ship in the Downs, and returns to Jamaica. The cruises of Sawkins and Sharp are recorded in the travels of Ringrose, who was present at all their exploits. At this time the Buccaneers widened their field of operations, and passed from the South into the North Pacific. The whole coast of South America, on either side, met the fate of the West Indian islands. The gold mines of Peru were the next object of their speculation. A fleet which took Porto Bello a second time rendezvoused at Boca del Toro. A new expedition was then formed to follow Captain Bournano, a French commander, who had lately attacked Chepo, to Tocamora, a great and very rich place, whither the Darien Indians had offered to conduct him, in spite of a late treaty with the Spaniards. The vessels first dispersed into coves and creeks to careen and salt turtle, and then reunited at the Water key. The fleet consisted of nine vessels, with a total of 22 guns and 458 men, in the following order:--Captain Coxen, a ship of 80 tons, with 8 guns, and 197 men; Captain Harris, 150 tons, 5 guns, and 107 men; Captain Bournano, 90 tons, 6 guns, and 86 men; Captain Sawkins, 16 tons, 1 gun, and 35 men; Captain Sharp, 25 tons, 2 guns, and 40 men; Captain Cook, 35 tons, and 43 men; Captain Alleston, 18 tons, and 24 men; Captain Row, 20 tons, and 25 men; Captain Macket, 14 tons, and 20 men. The expedition sailed March 26, 1679. The first place to touch at was the Zemblas Islands, where they traded with the friendly Indians, who brought fruits and venison in exchange for beads, needles, knives, and hatchets. These Indians were quite naked, but richly decorated with gold and silver plates of a crescent form, and gold rings worn in the nose, which they had to lift up when they drank. They were generally painted with streaks of black and red, but were a handsome race, and frequently as fair as Europeans. The sailors believed that they could see better by night than by day. The Indians dissuaded the captains from the march upon Tocamora, and agreed to guide them to the vicinity of Panama. The way to Tocamora, they declared, was mountainous and uninhabited, and ran through wild places, where no provisions could be obtained. In this change of plan, Row and Bournano, whose crews were all French, separated, being unwilling to risk a long march by land, and remained at the Zemblas, while Andræas, an Indian chief, guided the remaining vessels to the Golden Island, a little to the westward of the mouth of the great river of Darien. There the seven remaining vessels rendezvoused April 3, 1680. They here agreed to follow the Indians' advice, and attack the town of Santa Maria, situated on the river of the same name, which runs into the South Sea by the gulf of St. Miguel. It was garrisoned by 400 soldiers, and from hence the gold gathered in the neighbouring mountains was carried to Panama, on which they could march if they could not find enough at Santa Maria. On the 5th of April they landed 331 men, leaving Captains Alleston and Macket to guard the ships in their absence. Each man carried with him three or four "dough-boys" (cakes), trusting to the rivers for drink. Captain Sharp, who went at their head, was still faint from a late sickness. His company carried a red flag and a bunch of white and green ribbons. The second division, led by Captain Richard Sawkins, had a red flag, striped with yellow. Captain Peter Harris, with the third and fourth divisions, had two green flags; Captain John Coxen, two red flags; while Captain Edmund Cook bore red colours, striped with yellow, with a hand and sword for the device. All the men carried fusees, pistols, and hangers. The Indian guides led them through a wood and over a bay two leagues up a woody valley, along a good path, with here and there old plantations. At a river, then nearly dry, they built huts to rest in. Another Indian chief, a man "of great parts," and called Captain Antonio, now promised to be their leader, as soon as his child, who was then sick, had died, which he expected would be next day. This Indian warned them against lying in the grass, which was full of large snakes. The men, breaking some of the stones washed down from the mountains, found them glitter like gold; but, in spite of this, several grew tired and returned to the ships, leaving only 327 sailors and six Indian guides. The next day they ascended a very steep hill, and found at the foot of it a river, on which Andræas told them Santa Maria was built. About noon they ascended another and higher mountain, by so perpendicular and narrow a path that only one man could pass at a time. Having marched eighteen miles, they halted that night on the banks of the same river, much rain falling during both nights. The next day they crossed the river, after wading sometimes up to the knee, sometimes to the middle, in a steep current. At noon they reached the Indian village, near which the king of Darien resided. The houses were neatly built of cabbage-tree, with the roofs of wild canes, thatched with palmito royal, and were surrounded by plantain walks; they had no upper storeys. The king, queen, and family, came to visit them in royal robes. Like most savages, he was all ornament and nakedness, gold and dirt. His crown was made with woven white reeds, lined with red silk. In the middle was a thin plate of gold, some beads, and several ostrich feathers; in each ear a gold ring; and in his nose a half-moon of the same metal. His robe was of thin white cotton, and in his hand he held a long bright lance, sharp as a knife. The queen wore several red blankets, and her two marriageable daughters and young child were loaded with coloured beads, and covered with strips of rag. The women seemed "free, easy, and brisk," but modest and afraid of their husbands. The king gave the sailors each three plantains and some sugar-canes to suck, but, after that regal munificence, did not disdain to sell his stores like his subjects, who proved very cunning dealers in their purchases of knives, pins, and needles. Resting here a day, Captain Sawkins was appointed to lead the forlorn hope of eighty men. Their march still lay along the river, and here and there they found a house. The Indians, standing at the doors, would present each with a ripe plantain or cassave root, or count them by dropping a grain of millet for each one that passed. They rested at night at some native houses. The next day Sharp, Coxen, and Cook, and ninety men, embarked in fourteen canoes to try how far the stream was navigable, Captain Andræas being with them, and two Indians in each canoe serving as guides. But the water proved more tedious than the land; for at the distance of every stone's-cast, they were constrained to get out of the boats and haul them over sands, rocks, or fallen trees, and sometimes over spits of land. That night they built huts on the bank, being worn out with fatigue. The next day proved a repetition of the past; at night a tiger came near them, but they dared not fire for fear of alarming the Spaniards. The following day was worse than before, and their men grew mutinous and suspicious of the Indians, who, they thought, had divided the troop in order to betray them. The fourth day, resting on "a beachy point of land," where another arm joined the river, they were joined by their companions, whom they had sent their Indians to seek, and who had grown alarmed at their continued absence. That night they prepared their arms for action. On the morrow they re-embarked, in all sixty-eight canoes and 327 Englishmen, with fifty Indian guides. They made themselves paddles, threw away the Indian poles, and rowed with all speed, meeting several boats laden with plantains. About midnight they arrived within half-a-mile of Santa Maria, and landed. The mud was so deep that they had to lay down their paddles and lift themselves up by the boughs of the trees; then cutting a way through the woods, they took up their lodging there for the night, hoping to surprise the Spaniards. At daybreak, to their disappointment, they were awoke by the discharge of a musket and the beating of a drum. The Spaniards had already prepared some lead for their reception, and had sent away their gold to Panama. Directly they emerged into the plain, the enemy ran into a large palisaded fort, twelve feet high, and began to fire quick and close. The vanguard, running up, pulled down part of the stockade and broke in and took them prisoners, the whole 280 men. A few English were wounded, not one being killed of the fifty men who led the attack. 200 other Spaniards were in the mines conveying away the gold, the mines there being the richest of the western world. Twenty-six Spaniards were killed in the fort and sixteen wounded, but the governor, priest, and chief men all escaped by flight. The town proved to be merely a few cane houses, built to check the Indians, who frequently rebelled. Some days before, three cwt. of gold had been sent in a bark to Panama, the same quantity being despatched twice or thrice a-year. During the fight the Indians, frightened at the whistling of the bullets, had hid themselves in a hollow; when all was over they entered the place, with great courage stabbing the prisoners with their lances, and putting about twenty to death in the woods, till the Buccaneers interfered. In the town the Indians found the eldest daughter of the Darien king, whom one of the garrison had carried off, and who was then with child by him. Rather than be left to the mercy of the Indians, this man offered to lead them to Panama, where they hoped to capture all the riches of Potosi and Peru. Sawkins in a canoe attempted in vain to overtake the governor and his officers, and rather than return empty-handed, resolved to go to Panama, to satisfy what Ringrose calls "their hungry appetite of gold and riches." Captain Coxen was chosen commander, and the booty and prisoners sent back to the ships under a guard of twelve men. The Indians, being rewarded with presents of needles and beads, also returned, all but the king. Captain Andræas, Captain Antonio, and the king's son, King Golden Cap (bonete d'oro), as the Spaniards called him, resolved to go on, desiring to see Panama sacked, and offering to aid them with a large body of men. The Spanish guide declared he would not only lead them into the town, but even to the very door of the governor of Panama's bed-chamber, and that they should take him by the hand, and seize him and the whole city, before they should be discovered by the Spaniards. After remaining two days at Santa Maria, they departed April 17th, 1680, for Panama. They embarked in thirty-five canoes and a piragua which they had found lying at anchor, rowing down the river to the gulf of Belona, where they would enter the South Sea and work round to Panama. At the request of the Indian king the fort, church, and town were all burnt. The Spanish prisoners, afraid of being put to death by the savages if left behind, collected some bark logs and leaky canoes, although the Buccaneers could scarcely find boats for themselves, and went with them. Ringrose and four other men were put in the heaviest and slowest canoe, and, getting entangled between a shoal two miles long, and obliged to wait for high water, the boat being too heavy to row against tide, were soon left behind. At night, it being again low water, they stuck up an oar in the river, and, in spite of a weltering rain, slept all night by turns in the canoe. The next morning, rowing two leagues, they overtook their companions filling water at an Indian hut, there being no more for six days' journey. Hurrying to a pond a quarter of a mile distant with their calabashes, they returned to their boats and found the rest again gone and out of sight. "Such," moralises Ringrose, "is the procedure of these wild men, that they care not in the least whom they lose of their company or leave behind. We were now more troubled in our minds than before, fearing lest we should fall into the same misfortune we had so lately overcome." They rowed after them as fast as possible, but in vain, and lost their way among the innumerable islands of the river's mouth; but at last, with much trouble and toil, hit the Bocca Chica, the desired passage. But though they saw the door, they could not pass through, the "young flood" running violently against them--although it was only a stone's-cast off, and not a league broad. Here, then, in despair they put ashore, fastening the rope to a tree, almost covered by a tide that flowed four fathoms deep. As soon as the tide turned, they rowed to an island about a league-and-a-half from the river's mouth, in the gulf of St. Miguel, in much danger from the waves, their boat being twenty feet long, but not quite a foot-and-a-half broad. Here they rested for the night, wet through with the continual and impetuous rain, without water to drink, and unable to light a fire, "for the loss of our company, and the dangers we were in," says Ringrose, "made it the sorrowfullest night that, until then, I ever experimented." None slept that tedious night, for a vast sea surrounded them on one side, and the mighty power of the Spaniards on the other. They were all without shoes, and their clothes were drenched through. They could see nothing but sea, mountain, and rock. At break of day they rowed past several islands to the Point St. Laurence, one man incessantly employed in baling. As they passed one of these islands, a huge sea overturned their boat, but they gained the beach, swimming for life, and the canoe came tumbling beside them. The arms fast lashed at the bottom of the boat, the locks cased and waxed down like the cartouche boxes, and powder horns, escaped uninjured, but the bread and fresh water were either spoiled or lost. While carefully wiping and cleaning their arms, for a Buccaneer's musket was as his wife and child to him, they saw another canoe tossed to shore, a little to leeward. This proved to be six of the Spanish prisoners, who had escaped in an old piragua which was split to pieces, the English boat, formed of wood, six inches thick, having escaped unhurt. A common misfortune makes all men friends, and the English and Spaniards sat down together and broiled their meat amicably at the same fire. They then held a council, discussing for two or three hours what course to take, and all the men but Ringrose were for returning and living with the Indians, if they could not reach the ships lying in the northern sea. With much ado, Ringrose prevailed on them to persist for one day longer, and, just as they were concluding their debate, the man on the look-out cried that he saw Indians. Pursued into the woods by two Buccaneers, they found that he was one of the expedition, and had arrived with seven others in a great canoe. They were glad to see them, and declared, to their joy, that, all in one canoe, they could overtake the boats in the course of a day. On seeing the Spaniards (Wankers they called them), they would have put them to death but for Ringrose's interposition, for his men stood by indifferent. They then insisted on keeping one as a slave. Ringrose, still fearing for their lives, gave the five Spaniards his own canoe, and bade them shift for their lives. Now in a large canoe, with a good sail, and a fresh and strong gale, they made brave way, with infinite joy and comfort of heart, the smooth and easy passage, and the pleasant, fresh ripple of the sea, filling them with hope and gladness; but that very evening it grew very dark, and rained heavily. Suddenly two fires were seen to blaze up from the opposite shore of the continent, and the Indians, thinking they must indicate the encampment of their people, shouted, "Captain Antonio, Captain Andræas," and made for the shore as fast as they could pull. The canoe, however, had hardly got amongst the breakers, before sixty Spaniards, armed with clubs, leaped from the woods; and, drawing the boat on land, made all the crew their prisoners. Ringrose seized his gun, and prepared for resistance, but was pulled down by four or five of the enemy. The Indians, leaping overboard, escaped nimbly into the woods. Ringrose spoke to his captors in French and English, without obtaining any answer. On addressing the strangers in Latin, he discovered that they were the Spanish prisoners from Santa Maria, who had been liberated, for fear they might escape when nearer Panama, and inform the city of the Buccaneers' approach. The Englishmen were presently taken with shouts of joy into a hut made of boughs, and examined by the Spanish captain, who meditated retaliating upon them the injuries inflicted on the town. At this critical juncture, the Spaniards whom Ringrose had liberated came in, and explained how they had been delivered from the Indians. On hearing this, the Spanish captain rose, and, embracing Ringrose, said, "The English were good people, and very friendly enemies, but the Indians very rogues, and a treacherous nation." He then made him sit down and eat with him, and consented, for the kindness he had shown his countrymen, to give him and all his men, and even the Indians, if they could find them, their lives and liberties, which otherwise would have been forfeited. Finally, giving them a canoe, the noble-hearted enemy bade them go in God's name, praying that they might be as fortunate as they had been generous. All that night they skirted a dangerous and iron coast, without daring to land. The next morning, after sailing, paddling, and rowing for a few hours, they saw a canoe suddenly making towards them. It was one of the English boats, which had mistaken them for a Spanish piragua. They at once conducted them to a deep bay, sheltered by rocks, where the rest lay at anchor. They were all delighted to see Ringrose and his men, having given them up as lost. They then made their way with all speed to a hilly island, about seven leagues distant, and surprised an old man, who was stationed there to watch. The road up to the hut was very steep, and the Buccaneers surrounded the old man, who did not see them till they had already entered his plantain walk. They were much encouraged by his declaration, that no tidings of their arrival had yet reached Panama. About dusk, two of their boats surprised a small bark that came and anchored outside the island. The crew had been absent eight days from the city, landing soldiers on the adjacent shore, to curb and drive back the Indians. The crews of the smaller canoes now crowded into this vessel to the number of 137 men, together with Captain Cook and Captain Sharp, the latter of whom Ringrose calls "a sea artist, and valiant commander." Next morning, rowing all day over shallow water, they chased a bark, which Captain Harris took after a sharp dispute, putting on board a prize crew of thirty men. During this pursuit the vessels scattered, and did not reunite till next day at the island of Chepillo, a preconcerted rendezvous. They again chased a bark, but with less success, and Captain Coxen's canoe missed the prize, owing to a breeze springing up, having one man killed and another wounded, and, what was worst of all, the vessel not only escaped, but spread the alarm at Panama. At Chepillo they took fourteen negro and mulatto prisoners, and secured two fat hogs, plenty of plantains, and some good water. Believing it useless now to attack Panama, the Buccaneers resolved to hurry on to the town to at least surprise some of the shipping. Their boats had the addition of another piragua, which they found lying at Chepillo. Before starting, the captains cruelly decided, for reasons which Ringrose could not fathom, to allow the Indians to murder all the Spanish prisoners before their eyes, the savages having long thirsted for their blood. But by a singular coincidence the prisoners, though without arms, forced their way by a sudden rush through all the Indian spears and arrows, and escaped unhurt into the woods, to the chagrin of both white and black savages. Staying only a few hours at Chepillo, the boats started at four o'clock in the evening, intending to reach Panama, which was only seven leagues distant, before the next morning. The next day (St. George's day), before sunrise they arrived at Panama, "a city," says Ringrose, "which has a very pleasant prospect seaward." They could see all the ships of the city lying at anchor at the island of Perico, two leagues distant, where storehouses had been built. There now rode at anchor five great ships and three smaller armadillas, (little men-of-war). This fleet, which had been hastily manned to defend the city, as soon as they saw the Buccaneers, weighed anchor, got under sail, and bore down at once upon them, directly before the wind, and with such velocity as to threaten to run them down. The Spanish admiral's vessel was manned by ninety Biscayans, agile seamen and stout soldiers. They were all volunteers, and had come out to show their valour under the command of Don Jacinto de Barahona, high-admiral of those seas. In the second were seventy-seven negroes, led by a brave old Andalusian, Don Francisco de Peralta. In the third, making 228 men in all, were sixty-five mulattoes, under Don Diego de Carabaxal. The Spaniards had strict orders given them to grant no quarter. To add to the disparity of numbers, only a few of the Buccaneers' boats were able to arrive in time. The first five canoes that came up, leaving the heavy piraguas still lagging behind, contained only thirty-seven men, and these were tired with rowing in the wind's eye, and trying to get close to the windward of the enemy. The lesser piragua coming up with thirty-two more men, made a total force of sixty Buccaneers, including the king of Darien, engaged in this daring resistance to an overwhelming force. Carabaxal's vessel, passing between Sawkins's and Ringrose's canoes, fired at both, wounding four men in the former and one in the latter, but being slow in tacking, the Spaniard paid dear for his passage, the first return volley killing several men upon his decks. Almost before they had time to reload, the admiral passed, but the Buccaneers' second volley quite disabled their giant antagonist, killing the man at the helm; and the ship ran into the wind and her sails lay aback. She fell now like a lamed elephant at the mercy of the hunters; the canoes, pulling under her stern, fired continually upon the deck, killing all who dared to touch the helm, and cutting asunder the mainsheet and mainbrace. Sawkins, whose canoe was disabled, went next into the piragua to meet Peralta, leaving the four canoes to harass the admiral. Between Sawkins and Peralta, lying alongside of each other, the fight was desperate, each crew trying to board, and firing as quick as they could load. In the mean time the first vessel tacked about and came to relieve the admiral, but the canoes, seeing the danger of being beaten from the admiral's stern and allowing him to rally, sent two of their number (Springer and Ringrose) to meet Peralta. The admiral stood upon his quarter-deck, waving his handkerchief as a signal for his captains to come at once to his help. The canoes pursued Peralta, and would have boarded him had he not given them the helm and made away. Giving a loud shout, the remaining boats wedged up the admiral's rudder and poured in a blinding volley, that killed the admiral and chief pilot. Two-thirds of the Spaniards being now killed, many wounded, and all disheartened at the bloody massacre of the Buccaneers' shot, cried for quarter, which they had been already several times offered, and at once surrendered. Captain Coxen then boarded the prize, taking with him Captain Harris, who had been shot through both legs as he was heading a boarding party. They put all their other wounded men on board, and, manning two canoes, hurried off to aid Sawkins, who had already been three times beaten off by Peralta. Coming close under his side and giving him a full volley, they were expecting a return, when suddenly a volcano of fire spouted up from the deck, and all the Spaniards abaft the mast were blown into the air or sea. While the brave captain, leaping overboard, was helping the drowning men in spite of the rain of shot and the pain of his own burns, another jar of powder blew up in the forecastle. Under cover of the smoke and confusion, Sawkins boarded and took the ship, or at least all that was left of it. Ringrose says it was a miserable sight, not a man but was either killed or desperately wounded, blind, or horribly burnt with the powder. In some cases the white wounds where the flesh had peeled to the bone, showed through the blackening of the powder. The admiral had but twenty-five men left out of eighty-six, and of these twenty-five only eight were now able to bear arms. The blood ran down the deck in streams, and every rope and plank was smeared with gore. Peralta, as prudent as he was brave, attempted by every possible argument, forgetful of his own wounds and the death of his men, to induce the Buccaneers not to attack the remaining vessels in the harbour. In the biggest alone he said there were 350 men, and the rest were well defended. But a dying sailor, lifting up his head from the deck, contradicted him, and said that they had not a man on board, all their crews being placed in the armadillas. Trusting to dying treason rather than living fidelity, the Buccaneers instantly proceeded to the island, and found the ships deserted. The largest, _La Santissima Trinidada_, had been set on fire, the crew, loosing her foresail, having pierced her bottom. The captains soon quenched the fire, and stopping the leak turned their prize into a floating hospital-ship. They found they had eighteen men killed and twenty-two wounded (only two of whom died) in this desperate sea battle, which began an hour after sunrise and ended at noon. The third vessel, it appeared, while running away had met with two others, but even with this reinforcement refused to fight. Their brave prisoner, Peralta, now that all was over, broke out into repeated praises of their courage, which was so congenial to his own. He said: "You Englishmen are the valiantest men in the whole world, always desiring to fight open, while all other nations invent all the ways imaginable to barricade themselves, and fight as close as possible." "Notwithstanding all this," adds Ringrose, "we killed more of our enemies than they of us." Two days after the battle the Buccaneers buried Captain Harris, a brave Englishman of the county of Kent, whose death was much lamented by the fleet. The new city of Panama, built four miles more easterly than that which Morgan burnt, had been three times destroyed by fire since that event. A few people still lived round the cathedral in the old town. The new city was bigger than the old one, and built chiefly of brick and stone, and was defended by a garrison of 300 soldiers and 1,000 militiamen. They afterwards learnt that the troops were then absent, and that if they had landed instead of attacking the fleet, they might have taken the place, all the best shots being on board the admiral's vessel. In the five vessels taken at Perico there was much spoil. The _Trinidada_ (400 tons) was laden with wine, sugar, sweetmeats, skins, and soap. The second, of 300 tons, partly laden with bars of iron, one of the richest commodities brought into the South Sea, was burnt by the Buccaneers, because the Spaniards would not redeem it. The third, of 180 tons, laden with sugar, was given to Captain Cook; the fourth, an old vessel (60 tons), laden with meal, was burnt as useless, with all her cargo. The fifth, of 50 tons, with a piragua, fell to the lot of Captain Coxen. The two armadillas, the rigging and sails being saved, and a bark laden with poultry, were also burnt. Captain Coxen, indignant at charges made against him of cowardice in the late action, determined to rejoin the ships in the northern seas, together with seventy men who had assisted in his election. The Indian king, Don Andræas, and Don Antonio, returned with him. The king left his son and nephew in the care of Captain Sawkins, who was now commander-in-chief, and desired him not to spare the Spaniards. A few days after Captain Sharp returned from the King's islands, having taken a Spanish vessel and burnt his own. Captain Harris's crew had also taken a vessel, and, dismasting their own, turned their prisoners adrift in the hulk, and soon after taking a poultry vessel, the meanest of the Spaniards were treated in the same way. Having remained now ten days at Panama, the fleet steered to the island of Tavoga, where they found a village of 100 houses quite deserted, and many of these were burnt by the carelessness of a drunken sailor. The Panama merchants came here to sell the Buccaneers commodities and to purchase the plunder from their own vessels, giving 200 pieces of eight for every negro. Staying eight days, they captured a vessel from Truxillo laden with money to pay the garrison of Panama, while in the hold were 2,000 jars of wine and fifty jars of gunpowder. A flour vessel from the same place informed them that a ship was coming in a few days laden with 100,000 more pieces of eight. To a message from the President, who sent by some merchants to ask why they came into those parts, Captain Sawkins replied, that he came to assist the King of Darien, the true lord of the country, and he required a ransom of 500 pieces of eight for each sailor, and 1,000 for the commander. He must also promise not to molest the Indians, who were the natural owners of the soil. Hearing from the messengers that a certain priest, now bishop of Panama, formerly of Santa Martha, lay in the city, Sawkins, remembering that he had been his prisoner when he took that city five years before, sent him two loaves of sugar as a present. The next day the bishop replied by forwarding him a gold ring. The President, at the same time, sent another letter, desiring to see his commission, that he might know to what power to complain. Sawkins replied, that as yet all his men were not come together, but when they had met, they would come up to Panama, and bring their commissions on the muzzles of their guns, at which time he should read them as plain as the flame of gunpowder would let him. The men growing now mutinous for fresh meat, Sawkins was compelled to give up his hopes of capturing the rich vessel from Peru, and to sail to the island of Otoque, to buy fowls and hogs, losing two barks, one with seven, and the other with fifteen men. While lying off the pearl fishery of Cayboa, Sawkins and Sharp made an unfortunate attack with sixty men on the town of Puebla Nueva. They were piloted up the river in canoes by a negro prisoner. A mile below the town, great trees had been laid to block up the stream, and before the town three strong breastworks were thrown up. Sawkins, running furiously up the sloping ramparts, was shot dead, and his men driven back to their boats, two men being killed, and three wounded, in the retreat, which was made in pretty good order. They soon after, however, captured a vessel laden with indigo, and burnt two others. This Captain Sawkins, Ringrose says, was as valiant and courageous as any, and, next to Captain Sharp, the best beloved. His death was much lamented, and occasioned another overland expedition. Sharp, surrendering his last prize to Captain Cook, took his vessel and gave it to the sixty-three men who wished to return home. They led with them all the Indians to serve as guides overland. Before they started, Sharp, in full council on board the _Trinidada_, offered to insure to all who would carry out Sawkins's scheme, and go home by the Straits of Magellan, a £1000 profit, but none would stay. Ringrose himself acknowledges he should have left with them, but was afraid of the Indians, and the long and dangerous journey in the rainy season. At Cayboa, the men took in water and cut wood, killing alligators, and salting deer and turtle. Here two "remarkable events" happened to Ringrose. In the first place, he ate an oyster so large that he found it necessary to cut it into four large mouthfuls: secondly, as he was washing himself in a pond, some drops fell on him from a mançanilla tree, and these drops broke out into a red eruption that lasted a week. Here Sharp burnt one of his prizes for the sake of the iron work, and received Captain Cook, whose men had revolted, on board his own ship, making John Cox, a New Englander, commander in his stead. Sharp now determined to careen at the island of Gorgona, and then to proceed to Guayaquil, where Captain Juan, the captain of the Tavoga money ship, assured them they might throw away their silver and lade with gold. They selected Gorgona, because, on account of the perpetual rain, the Spaniards seldom touched there. The sailors, who had lost their money at gambling, were impatient of these delays, and declared that the Spaniards would now gain time, and the whole coast be alarmed, and on the defensive. But the richer men, wanting rest, decided for Gorgona. In this island, they fished their mainmast, shot at whales, killed monkeys, snakes, and turtle for food, being short of provision, caught a large sloth, and killed a serpent, fourteen inches thick, and twelve feet long. While moored here, Joseph Gabriel, the Chilian, who stole the Indian king's daughter, died of a malignant calenture. He had been very faithful, and discovered many plots and conspiracies among the prisoners of intended escapes and murders. Sharp now abandoned the design on Guayaquil, and resolved to attack Arica, the dépôt of all the Potosi plate. An old man who had served much with the Spaniards, promised them £2000 a-man. After a fortnight's sail they arrived at the island of Plate, so called from Drake dividing his plunder there among his men. The Spaniards had a tradition, that he took twelve score tons of plate in the galleon armada, and that each of his forty-five men had sixteen bowls full of coined money--his ships being so full that they were obliged to throw much of it overboard. In the adjoining bay of Manta, in Cromwell's time, a Lima vessel, laden with thirty millions of dollars, on its way as a present to Charles I., was lost by keeping too near the shore. While catching goats on this island, on which the cross of the first Spanish discoverer still stood, they were joined by Captain Cox, whom they had lost a fortnight before, as they feared, irrecoverably. They killed and salted on this island 100 goats in a day, and one man alone, in a few hours, in one small bay turned seventeen turtle. Peralta congratulated them on getting as far to windward in two weeks as the Spanish captains did in three months, from their keeping boldly so far from the shore. While passing Guayaquil, they espied a Spanish vessel and gave chase. Being hailed in Spanish by an Indian prisoner, to lower their topsails, the enemy replied they would pull down the Englishman's first, and answered with their arquebuses to the Buccaneers' muskets, till, one bullet killing the man at the helm and another cutting their maintop halliards, they cried out for quarter. There were thirty-five men on board, including twenty-four Spaniards and several persons of quality. The captain's brother, since the death of Don Jacinto de Barahona at Panama, was admiral of the armada. The Buccaneers' rigging was much cut during the fight, and two men were wounded, besides a sailor who was shot by an accident. The captain, it appears, had in a bravado sworn to attack their fleet if he could meet it. The Spaniard, a very "civil and meek gentleman," informed them that the governor of Lima, hearing of their visit to Panama, had collected five ships and 750 sailors; while two other vessels and 400 soldiers, furnished by the viceroy, were preparing to start. A patache with twenty-four guns was also lying at Callao, ready to remove the king's plate from Arica. At Guayaquil they had built two forts, and mustered 850 men of all colours. The same day the English unrigged their new prize and sank her. Reckoning up the pillage, they found they had now 3,276 pieces of eight, which were at once divided. The same day they punished a Spanish friar, who was chaplain in the last prize, and, shooting him on the deck, flung him overboard before he was dead. "Such cruelties," says Ringrose, "though I abhorred very much in my heart, yet here I was forced to hold my tongue and not contradict them, as having no authority to oversway them." The prisoners now confessed they had killed a boat full of the Buccaneers' men, lost near Cayboa, and had discovered from the only survivor the plan on Guayaquil. Captain Cox's vessel being so slow as to require towing, they sank it, so there were now 140 men and boys and fifty-five prisoners in one and the same bottom. While to the leeward of Tumbes, Peralta told them a legend of a priest having once landed there in the face of 10,000 Indians, who stared at his uplifted cross. As he stepped out of his boat on the shore, before the water could efface his footprints, two lions and two tigers came out of the woods to meet him, but when he gently laid the cross on their backs, they fell down and worshipped it, upon which all the Indians came forward and were baptised. The night they passed Paita they espied a sail and gave chase, following it by the lights which it showed through negligence. Scantiness of provisions made them more eager in the pursuit, and coming up the Spaniard instantly lowered all her sails and surrendered. The Buccaneers casting dice as to who should first board, the lot fell to the larboard watch. The vessel contained fifty packs of cocoa, and a great deal of raw silk and India cloth, besides many bales of thread stockings. The prize being plundered and dismasted, the prisoners were turned adrift in it, supplied with only a foresail, some water, and a little flour. The chief prisoners, as Don Thomas de Argandona, commander of the Guayaquil vessel, and his friends Don Christoval and Don Baltazar, gentlemen of quality, Captain Peralta, Moreno, a pilot, and twelve slaves, to do the drudgery, were still kept. The next day the sailor wounded in taking the Guayaquil vessel, died, and was buried with ceremony, three French volleys being fired as the body was let down into the deep. Their next expedition was to attack Arica with 112 men, first sending five boats to capture some fishermen at the river of Juan Diaz, whom they might employ as spies. To their great chagrin they found the landing impracticable, and the whole coast in arms. Troops of horse covered the low hills round the bay, and close beneath six ships rode at anchor. Abandoning this project, these indefatigable marauders (more pirates than real Buccaneers) despatched four canoes and fifty men, to plunder the town of Hillo. On the shore the English were met by some horsemen, who fled after a few volleys. Marching to the town, they forced their way through a small breastwork of clay and sandbags, and took the town. Keeping good watch for fear of surprise, a dying Indian, wounded in the skirmish, told them that the townspeople had heard from Lima nine days before, and expected their coming. In the town they found pitch, wine, oil, and flour, and sixty of the ablest men were sent up the adjoining valley to reconnoitre. They found it beautifully planted with fig, lemon, lime, olive, and orange trees, and four miles up came to a sugar-mill, the greater part of the sugar having been removed. The Spaniards, watching them from the hills, rolled stones upon them, but hid themselves when a musket-shot was fired in retaliation. Captain Cox and a Dutch interpreter being despatched with a flag of truce to the Spaniards, they agreed to give eighty beeves as a ransom for the mill, and a message was despatched to Captain Sharp not to injure the drivers of the oxen when they came. Hearing that sixteen beeves had already arrived at the port, the men, contrary to Ringrose's opinion, returned to the ships laden with sugar, and found the whole story of the oxen's arrival a mere _ruse de guerre_. The Spaniards being appealed to promised the cattle should arrive that night, but at last declared the wind was so high they could not drive the herds. Enraged at this delay, the Buccaneers, who had now taken in water, marched 100 men up the valley, and burned the house, the mill, and the canes, carried off the sugar, broke the oil jars, and cracked the copper wheels. Near the shore they were charged by a body of 300 horsemen, who took them by surprise, but not before they had thrown down the sugar and taken up their arms. Ringrose shall tell the rest: "We being in good rank and order," he says, "fairly proffered them battle upon the bay; but as we advanced to meet them, they retired and rid towards the mountains, to surround us, and take the rocks from us, if possibly they could. Hereupon, perceiving their intentions, we returned back and possessed ourselves of the said rocks, and also of the lower town, as the Spaniards themselves did of the upper town (at the distance of half-a-mile from the lower), the hills and the woods adjoining thereunto. The horsemen being now in possession of those quarters, we could perceive as far as we could see, more and more men resort unto them, so that their forces increased hourly to considerable numbers. We fired at one another as long as we could see, and the day would permit. But in the mean time we observed that several of them rid to the watch hill and looked out often to the seaward. This gave us occasion to fear that they had more strength and forces coming that way, which they expected every minute. Hereupon, lest we should speed worse than we had done before, we resolved to embark silently in the dark of the night." They carried off a great chest of sugar (seven pounds and a-half to each man), thirty jars of oil, and much fruit, wild and cultivated. From appearances next morning they believed the enemy had also fled in the night, as only fifty men could be seen. The prisoners, seeing a comet at dusk, told the Englishmen that many such appearances had preceded the arrival of the Buccaneers in the South Sea. Their brave prisoner, Captain Peralta, began at this time to show signs of insanity, his mind being shaken by continued hardship and despair at his long imprisonment. The Buccaneers next landed 100 men, hoping to take by surprise the city of La Serena. Here, too, they found the Spaniards vigilant, and had to break through 100 horsemen to reach the town, killing three officers and wounding four men. The town contained seven great churches and many rich merchants' houses surrounded by gardens. The inhabitants had fled, and either carried away or buried all their treasures, and a Chilian prisoner said the Spaniards had killed most of their negro and even their Chilian slaves, for fear of their revolting and joining the Buccaneers. A party of forty men, with a Chilian guide, searched the woods in vain to secure prisoners for guides. The Spaniards, sending a flag of truce, agreed to pay 95,000 pieces of eight as ransom for the town; but, not bringing it in, the place was set on fire. Taking advantage of an earthquake, the Spaniards opened the sluices and inundated the streets. Every house, Ringrose says, was separately fired to render the conflagration complete. Two parties were then despatched laden with booty to the ships, who on their way beat up an ambuscade of 250 Spanish horse. During their absence, a daring attempt was made to burn their ship. The enemy hired a man who floated under the stern of the ship on a horse's hide, blown out like a bladder. He then stuffed oakum and brimstone between the keel and the stern-post, and set the rudder on fire. The men, alarmed at the smoke, ran up and down, not knowing where the fire could be, and believing the prisoners had done it in order to escape. The source of the evil was at last discovered, and the flames extinguished. The Buccaneers, before sailing, released all their prisoners, not knowing what to do with them, and fearing that they would revolt or perhaps try to burn the ship. On reaching the island of Juan Fernandez, they solemnized the festival of Christmas by discharging three volleys of shot, and killing sixty goats in one day. The shore was covered so thick with seals that they were obliged to shoot a few in order to land. They then filled 200 water-jars, and were nearly lost in a place called "False Wild Harbour," where they killed several sea-lions. Their beds they made of fern. It was on this island, their pilot told them, a deserted sailor (Alexander Selkirk) had lived five years. The men now in the midst of storms and dangers, were all in a mutiny. Some were for going back to England or the plantations, and returning by the straits of Magellan; others for continuing longer in those seas. All agreed to depose Captain Sharp and elect John Watling, an old privateer, "and a stout seaman." The next Sunday was the first, says Ringrose, that had been kept by common consent since the death of Sawkins, who would throw the dice overboard if he found any in use on that day. Juan Fernandez abounded in cabbage palms and building timber. The fish swarmed in such quantities that they could be caught with the bare hook, one sailor in a few hours capturing enough for the whole crew. Shoals a mile long were seen in the bay. While busily employed in catching fish, shooting goats, and cutting timber, the hunters suddenly gave the alarm of three Spanish men-of-war approaching the island, and, slipping their cables, the Buccaneers put out hurriedly to sea. In the confusion, William, a Mosquito Indian, who could not be found at the time, was left behind to endure the hardships that a few days before he may have heard the pilot relate as experienced by the celebrated Alexander Selkirk (the prototype of Robinson Crusoe). The three Spanish vessels proved to be the _El Santo Christo_, of 800 tons, carrying twelve guns; the _San Francisco_, of 600 tons, with ten guns; and a third of 350 tons. As soon as they came in sight, they hung out "bloody flags;" and the Buccaneers, nothing daunted, did the same. The English, keeping close under the wind, were very unwilling to fight, as the Spaniards held together, and their new commander, Watling, showed a faint heart. The trio eventually sheered off, glad to escape uninjured. Determining to pay a second visit to Arica, twenty-five men and two canoes were despatched to obtain guides from the island of Yqueque. On the shore of the mainland they found a hut built of whales' bones, a cross, and some broken jars. They brought away from the island, which they could not at first discover, two old white men and two Indians. The people of Arica, they found, came to this place to buy clay, and the natives were obliged to fetch all the water they used from the mainland. The Indians wore no clothes, and chewed leaves which dyed their teeth green. One of the old prisoners being examined was shot to death by order of the commander, who believed him to be lying, although, as it afterwards appeared, he told nothing but the truth. Sharp was troubled and dissatisfied at this cruel and rash order, and, taking water and washing his hands, he said, "Gentlemen, I am clear of the blood of this old man, and will warrant you a hot day for this piece of cruelty whenever we come to fight at Arica." The other prisoner said that he was the superintendent of fifty slaves belonging to the governor of the town. These slaves caught fish and sold them when dried in the inland towns. There were then three Chilian ships and a bark in the harbour, and a fortification of twelve guns in the town. The people had already, he said, heard from Coquimbo of their arrival, and removed and buried their treasure. There were also, they heard, breast-works round the town, and barricades in every street. Disregarding these warnings, the Buccaneers embarked next day in a launch and four canoes, rowing and sailing all night, in hopes of surprising Arica. At daybreak they hid themselves under the cliffs for fear of being seen, and at night began again to row. On Sunday (Jan. 30), 1680--"sacred to the memory of King Charles the Martyr"--they landed among some rocks four miles to the south of the town, ninety-two men going on shore, the rest staying to defend the boats. The signal agreed on was, that at one smoke, they should come up to the harbour in one canoe; but if there were two smokes, they should "bring all away, leaving only fifteen men with the boats." Mounting a steep hill, they could see no Spaniards, and hoped that the surprise was complete; but as they were descending the other side, three horsemen on the look-out hill rode down at full speed and alarmed the city. The forty men who attacked the fort with hand grenades, seeing their companions overpowered, ran down into the valley to join them. "Here the battle was very desperate, and they killed and wounded two more of our men from their outworks before we could gain upon them. But our rage increasing with our wounds, we still advanced, and at last beat the enemy out of all, and filled every street in the city with dead bodies. The enemy made several retreats from one breast-work to another, but, we had not a sufficient number of men to man all places taken. Insomuch, that we had no sooner beat them out of one place but they came another way, and manned it again with new forces and fresh men." So says Ringrose. Imprudently overburdening themselves with prisoners, they found there were in the place 400 soldiers from Lima, 200 armed townsmen, and 300 men garrisoning the fort. Being now nearly masters of the place, the English sent to demand the surrender of the fort, and, receiving no answer, advanced to the attack. Several times repulsed, the Buccaneers at last mounted the top of a neighbouring house and fired down into the castle; but, being again surrounded by the enemy, they were obliged to desist. The number and vigour of the enemy increased hourly, and, almost overpowered, the English were compelled to retreat to the hospital where the surgeons were tending the wounded. Captain Watling and both quartermasters were killed, and many were disabled. We will let Ringrose tell the rest:-- "So that now, the enemy rallying against us, and beating us from place to place, we were in a very distracted condition, and in more likelihood to perish, every man, than escape the bloodshed of that day. Now we found the words of Captain Sharp true, being all very sensible that we had a day too hot for us, after that cruel heat in killing and murdering in cold blood the old Mestizo Indian. "Being surrounded with difficulties on all sides, and in great disorder, having nobody to give orders, what was to be done? We were glad to have our eyes upon our good old commander, Captain Bartholomew Sharp, and beg of him very earnestly to commiserate our condition, and carry us off. It was a great while before he would take any notice of our request, so much was he displeased with the former mutiny of our people against him, all which had been occasioned by the instigation of Mr. Cook. "But Mr. Sharp is a man of an undaunted courage, and excellent conduct, not fearing in the least to look an insulting enemy in the face, and a person that knows both the theory and practice of navigation as well as most do. Hereupon, at our earnest request and petition, he took upon him the command in chief again, and began to distribute his orders for our safety. He would have brought off our surgeons, but they, having been drinking while we assaulted the fort, would not come with us when they were called. They killed and took of our number twenty-eight men, besides eighteen that we brought off, who were desperately wounded. At that time we were all extremely faint for want of water and victuals, whereof we had none all that day. We were likewise almost choked with the dust of the town, being so much raised by the work that their guns had made, that we could scarce see each other. They beat us out of the town, then followed us into the savannahs, still charging as fast as they could. But when they saw that we rallied, again resolving to die one by another, they ran from us into the town, and sheltered themselves under their breast-works. Thus we retreated in as good order as we possibly could observe in that confusion. But their horsemen followed us as we retired, and fired at us all the way, though they would not come within reach of our guns, for theirs reached further than ours, and outshot us above one-third. We took the sea-side for our greater security, which when the enemy saw, they betook themselves to the hills, rolling down great stones and whole rocks to destroy us. Meanwhile, those of the town examined our surgeons, and other men whom they had made prisoners. These gave them our signs that we had left to our boats that were behind us, so that they immediately blew up two fires, which were perceived by the canoes. This was the greatest of our dangers; for had we not come at that instant that we did to the sea-side, our boats had been gone, they being already under sail, and we had inevitably perished every man. Thus we put off from the shore, and got on board about ten at night, having been involved in a bloody fight with the enemy all the day." The Buccaneers, thus cruelly baffled, plied for some time outside the port, hoping to be revenged on the three ships, but they did not venture out. Arica Ringrose describes as a square place, with the castle at one corner. The houses were only eleven feet high, and built of earth. It was the place of embarkation for all minerals sent to Lima. Of the English prisoners, only ten survived. The Spaniards lost more than seventy men, three times as many being wounded, and of forty-five allies from Hillo only two returned alive. On dividing the plate, they found only thirty-seven pieces of eight fell to each man. Landing at Guasco, they took in 500 jars of water, and carried off 120 sheep, 80 goats, and 200 bushels of flour. At Hillo they surprised the townsmen asleep, and heard a false report that 5000 Englishmen had taken Panama. They carried off eighteen jars of wine and some new figs, and, ascending to the sugar-work they had before visited, laded seven mules with molasses and sugar. The townsmen told them, that the owner of the mill had brought an action against them for having done him more injury than the Buccaneers. A few days after this another mutiny broke out, and forty-seven men, refusing to serve any longer under Captain Sharp, landed near the island of Plate, with five Indian slaves to serve as guides. Near the island of Chica they captured two Spanish vessels, one of them the very ship they had captured before at Panama. They heard here that some of their overland parties had taken a good ship at Porto Bello. Capturing some Spanish shipwrights at this place, they employed them for a fortnight in altering their vessel, and then set them at liberty, with some others of their prisoners, giving them one of their prizes, and manning the other with six men and two slaves. They now agreed in council to bear up for Golfo Dolce, there to careen their vessels, and then to cruise about under the equinoctial. They landed in Golfo Dolce, and, treating kindly some Indians whom they took prisoners, bought honey and plantains of them. Here they learned that the Spaniards, having treacherously captured forty Darien chiefs, had forced the natives into a peace. Having careened here, they soon after captured a rich prize, the _San Pedro_, bound from Truxillo to Panama, deeply laden with 37,000 pieces of eight, in chest and bags, besides plate. This was the same vessel they had taken the year before, and it was now their prize a second time in fourteen months. The crew consisted of forty men, besides friars and merchants. Taking out part of her lading of cocoa, they cut down her masts and turned her adrift with all the old slaves, as "_a reward for good service_," taking new ones from the prize. Francisco, a negro, who had attempted to escape by swimming on shore in the Golfo Dolce, they retained as a prisoner, as a punishment for his insubordination. From this prize each Buccaneer received 234 pieces of eight, much being left for a future division. They learnt from this vessel that a new Viceroy of Peru, arrived at Panama, had not dared to venture to Lima in his ship of twenty-five guns, but had waited for the armada as a convoy. A few days later, they captured the packet that ran between Lima and Panama. A friar and five negroes escaped on shore, but two white women were captured. Rummaging the boat, they found nothing of value but a letter announcing the departure of the viceroy with four ships. The prisoners and the boat were then released. "That week," says Ringrose, "we stood out to sea all night long, most of our men being fuddled." The next day they captured a Spanish vessel that had at first frightened them by its size. The volleys of the Buccaneers soon drove the Spaniards into the hold and made them cry for quarter, having killed the captain at the first fire, and wounded the boatswain. Captain Sharp and twelve others were the first to board. She proved to be _El Santo Rosario_, commanded by Don Diego Lopez, bound from Callao to Panama. The crew were forty in number. She was deeply laden with plate and coined money, and carried 620 jars of wine and brandy. At Cape Passao Sharp sank the bark taken at Nicoya, preserving her rigging, and disabling the last prize set the prisoners adrift in it, keeping only the one man, named Francisco, who had described himself as the best pilot in those seas. They then divided the booty, which came to ninety-four pieces of eight a man. From these prisoners they learned that their men taken at Arica had been kindly treated at Callao. Of the last party that one had been captured, and the rest had had to fight their way overland through Indians and Spaniards. Ten Buccaneers were also announced as about to enter the South Sea. In August they landed again to kill goats on the island of Plate, where Ringrose and James Chappel, a quartermaster, fought a duel on shore, with what result we do not know. The same evening a conspiracy of the slaves was detected, in which they had plotted to slay all their masters when in drink, not sparing any. The ringleader, San Jago, a prisoner from Yqueque, leaped overboard when the plot was discovered, and was shot by the captain. The rest, being terrified at his death, were forgiven, and the same night the usual debauch took place in spite of the danger. From their pilot they heard that a Lima vessel bound for Guayaquil had run ashore lately on Santa Clara, losing 100,000 pieces of eight, that would have been their prize. They heard also that the Viceroy of Peru had beheaded the great Admiral Ponce for not destroying the Buccaneer fleet while at Gorgona. They next made a descent on Paita, but found the place garrisoned by three companies horse and foot, well armed, from Puira, twelve leagues up the country. 150 musketeers and 400 lancers occupied a hill and a breast-work, and fired upon the canoes. Had they suffered them to land they might have killed them to a man. Finding the whole coast now alarmed, they bore at once away for the Straits of Magellan. Touching at some unknown islands, they were almost inclined to winter there. Here they shot geese, made broth of limpets, and one of the boats captured an Indian and shot another dead. The prisoner was clad in a seal's skin, and carried a net to catch penguins. He was so strong as to be able to open mussels with his fingers, and they kept him as a slave, and called him Orson. They then proceeded to divide eight chests of money still unallotted, and each man received 322 pieces of eight. On December 7th Captain Sharp received intelligence of a conspiracy to shoot him during the ensuing festivities of Christmas-day. The only precaution he took was at once to divide all the wine in store, believing that no sober man would attempt so dastardly an act. Each mess received three jars. The cold grew now so intense that several of the negro slaves had their feet mortify, and some died. Christmas-day was celebrated by killing a fat sow, this being the first flesh the men had eaten since they left the island of Plata. By January 16th the days grew very hot again, and the nights cool and dewy. The men, weary of the voyage, offered a piece of eight "each man" to him who first discovered land. The sight of birds soon indicated this, and January 28th the look-out spied Barbadoes; but hearing of peace they dared not put in for fear of being seized, and therefore steered for Antigua, much afraid of frigates, and shunning even a Bristol interloper that lay in the offing. Ringrose says: "Here I cannot easily express the infinite joy we were possessed with all this day, to see our own countrymen again." They then freed a negro shoemaker, whom they had kept as a prisoner, and who had been very serviceable during the voyage. To Captain Sharp the men gave a mulatto boy as slave, for a token of the respect of his whole company to him for having led them safely through so many dangerous adventures. They then divided the last parcels of money, and received twenty-four pieces of eight a man. A little Spanish shock dog, taken from a prize, was also sold at the mast by public outcry, for forty pieces of eight, the owner promising all he gained should be devoted to a general feast. Captain Sharp bought the dog, saying he would eat it if they did not soon get leave to land. 100 pieces of eight was also added to the store, the boatswain, carpenter, and quartermaster having quarrelled about the last dividend. On reaching Antigua Sharp sent a canoe ashore to buy tobacco and other necessaries, and to ask leave of the governor to land. The conclusion of Ringrose's book tells the rest: "The gentry of the place and common people were very willing and desirous to receive us, but on Wednesday, February 1st, the governor flatly refused us entry, at which all the gentry were much troubled, showing themselves very kind to us; hereupon we agreed among ourselves to give the ship to those of our company who had no money left them of all their purchase in this voyage, having lost it at play, and then put ourselves on board two ships bound for England. So I myself and thirteen more of our company went on board Captain Robert Porteen's ship called the _Lisbon Merchant_, set sail from La Antigua February 11th, and landed in England March 26th, anno 1682." On his arrival in England Captain Sharp was tried for piracy and acquitted. He at once resolved to return to the West Indies, but all the merchant ships refused to carry him, afraid he would tempt their men to revolt against their master, and run away with the ship for a privateer, as he had done before. No promises or entreaties could avail, and he seemed doomed to remain a prisoner in an island for which he entertained no filial affection. He therefore hit upon a desperate scheme, worthy of such a man. Collecting a little money he bought an old, half-rotten boat, lying near London-bridge, for £20, and embarked with sixteen desperadoes equally fearless as himself, carrying a supply of butter and cheese, and two dozen pieces of salt beef. He sailed down the river and reached the Downs, and there he boarded and captured a French vessel and sank his boat. By a foray on Romney Marsh he supplied himself with cattle, and sailed away like a bold Buccaneer as he was, to die no one knows where. CHAPTER V. DAMPIER'S VOYAGES. Leaves Captain Sharp--Land march over the Isthmus--Joins Captain Wright--Wreck of the French fleet--Returns to England--Second voyage with Captain Cook--Guinea coast--Juan Fernandez--Takes Ampalla--Takes Paita--Dampier's scheme of seizing the mines--Attacks Manilla galleon--Captain Swan--Death unknown. Van Horn--Captures galleons--Takes Vera Cruz--Killed in a duel by Le Graff. Dampier, one of the wisest and best of English travellers, was himself a Buccaneer. Son of a Somersetshire farmer, he went early to sea, and became a freebooter without much compunction, just at the time when the brothers of the coast were sinking into mere pirates. "No peace beyond the line" was their early motto; "Friends to God and enemies to all mankind," was the later. The flag, once reddened by the Spaniards' blood, grew now black with the shadows of death and of the grave. Dampier was among those who left Captain Sharp after the dreadful repulse from Arica. His party consisted of forty-four Englishmen and two Mosquito Indians, who determined to re-cross the Isthmus of Darien, and return to the North Pacific Ocean. They carried with them a large quantity of flour and chocolate mixed with sugar, and took a mutual and terrible oath, that if any of their number sank from fatigue, he should be shot by his comrades, rather than allow him to fall into the hands of the Spaniards, who would not only torture him horribly, but compel him to betray his companions. In a fortnight after leaving the vessels they landed at the mouth of a river in the Bay of St. Michael, where unloading their provisions and arms they sank their boats; and while preparing for the inland journey, the Indians caught fish, and built huts for them to sleep in. The next day they struck into an Indian path and reached a village, but found, to their alarm, that the Spaniards had placed armed ships at the mouths of all the navigable rivers to intercept them on their return. Hiring an Indian guide, they reached the day after a native house, but the savage would neither give them food nor information. At any other time the Buccaneers would have at once put him on the rack, or hung him at his own door, but they felt this was no place to be angry, for their lives lay in the enemy's hands. Neither dollars, hatchets, nor knives, would move this stubborn man, till a sailor pulled a sky blue petticoat from his bag and threw it over the head of the Indian's wife. Delighted with the gift, she coaxed her husband till he gave them information and found a guide. It had rained hard for two days, the country was difficult and fatiguing, and there was no path that even an Indian eye could discover. They guided themselves by day by the rivers, and at night by the stars. They had frequently to ford the rivers twenty or thirty times in twelve hours. Rain, cold, fatigue, and hunger made them forget even the Spaniards. In a few days they reached the house of a young Spanish Indian, who had lived with the bishop of Panama, and who received them kindly. Here, while resting to dry their arms and powder, their surgeon, Mr. Wafer, had his knee burnt by an accidental explosion. After dragging himself along with pain for another day, he determined to remain behind with two or three more. He stayed five months with the Indians, and the published account of his experiences still exists. The rainy season that frightened Mr. Ringrose had now set in, and the thunder and lightning was frequent and violent. The valleys and river banks were overflowed, and the Buccaneers had to sleep in trees or under their shade, instead of building warm and sheltering huts. In the very height of their misery, the slaves fled and carried away all they could. Dampier, whose only anxiety was to preserve his journal, placed it in a bamboo, closed at both ends with wax. In fording one of the rivers, a Buccaneer, who carried 300 dollars on his back, was swept down the stream and drowned, but the survivors were too hopeless and weary to look for either body or gold. In eighteen days the English reached the river Concepcion, and, obtaining Indian canoes, rowed to Le Sound's Key, one of the Samballas islands, where Buccaneers rendezvoused. Here they embarked on board a French privateer, commanded by Captain Tristian, dismissing their Indian guides with presents of money, beads, and hatchets. At Springer's Key, Tristian joined them with other vessels, and would have attacked Panama had not Dampier and his men deterred them. For a week the council deliberated about the available towns worth plundering from Trinidad to Vera Cruz. The French and English could not agree, but at last all sailed for Carpenter's River, touching at the isle of St. Andreas. The ships separated in a gale; and Dampier taking a dislike to his French commander, induced Captain Wright, an Englishman, to fit out a small vessel and cruise for provisions along the coast. While the sailors shot pecary, deer, parrots, pigeons, monkeys, and cuvassow birds, their Mosquito Indians struck turtle for their use. On returning to Le Sound's Key they were joined by Mr. Wafer, who had escaped from the Darien Indians, but he was so painted and bedizened that it was some time before they could recognize him. An Indian chief had offered him his daughter in marriage, and he had only got away by pretending to go in search of English dogs for hunting. Passing Carthagena, they cast wistful eyes at the convent dedicated to the Virgin, situated on a steep hill behind the town. There was immense wealth hoarded in this place, rich offerings being frequently made to it, and many miracles worked by our Lady. Any misfortune that befel the Buccaneer was attributed to this Lady's doing, and the Spaniards reported that she was abroad that night the _Oxford_ man-of-war blew up at the isle of Vaca, and that she came home all wet, and with clothes soiled and torn. Captain Wright's company pillaged several small places about the Rio de la Hache and the Rancherias pearl fisheries, and captured, after a smart engagement, an armed ship of twelve guns and forty men, laden with sugar, tobacco, and marmalade, bound to Carthagena from Santiago, in Cuba. The Dutch governor of Curaçoa, having much trade with the Spaniards, would not openly buy the cargo, but offered, if it was sent among the Danes of St. Thomas, to purchase it through his agents. The rovers, declining this, sold it at another Dutch colony, and then sailed for the isle of Aves, so called from the quantity of boobies and men-of-war birds. On a coral reef, near this island, Count d'Estrees had shortly before lost the whole French fleet. He himself had first run ashore, and firing guns to warn the rest of the danger, they hurried on to the same shoal, thinking, in the darkness, that he had been attacked by the enemy. The ships held together till the next day, and many men were saved. The ordinary seamen died of hunger and fatigue, but the Buccaneers, hardier, and accustomed to frequent wrecks, made the escape an excuse for revel and debauchery. As Dampier says, they, "being used to such accidents, lived merrily, and if they had gone to Jamaica with £30 in their pockets, could not have enjoyed themselves more; for they kept a gang by themselves and watched when the ships broke up, to get the goods that came out of them, and, though much was staved against the rocks, yet abundance of wine and brandy floated over the reef where they waited to take it up." * * "There were about forty Frenchmen on board one of the ships, in which was good store of liquor, till the after part of her broke, and floated over the reef and was carried away to sea, with all the men drinking and singing, who, being in drink, did not mind the danger, but were never heard of afterwards." This wreck having left the Bird Island a storehouse of masts and spars, the Buccaneer vessels had begun to repair thither to careen and refit. Among others, a Captain Pan, a Frenchman, had been there. A Dutch vessel of twenty guns, despatched from Curaçoa to fish up the sunken cannon, observing the privateer, resolved to capture him before he began his diving. Pan, afraid of the Dutchman's superior force, abandoned his vessel, and, landing his guns, prepared to throw up a redoubt. While thus engaged, a Dutch sloop entered the road, and at night anchored at the opposite end of the island. In the night, Pan, with two canoes, boarded the ship, and made off, leaving his empty hulk for the Dutch man-of-war. At this island, Dampier's men careened their largest vessel, scrubbed the sugar prize, and recovered two guns from the wreck. At the island of Rocas, a Knight of Malta, captain of a French thirty-six gun ship, bought ten tons of their sugar. Failing to sell any more sugar at Petit Guaves, they sailed for Blanco, an uninhabited island, full of lignum-vitæ trees, and teeming with iguanas, that were to be found in the swamps, among the bushes, or in the trees. Their eggs were eaten by the Buccaneers, who made soup of the flesh for their sick. While cruising on the Caraccas coast, they landed in some of the bays, and took seven or eight tons of cocoa, and three barks laden with hides, brandy, earthenware, and European goods. Returning to the Rocas, they divided the spoil, and Dampier and nineteen others embarking in one of the prizes, reached Virginia July 1682. Dampier's next voyage was with a Creole, named Cook, who arrived at Virginia with a French vessel he had captured by a trick at Petit Guaves. He had been quartermaster, or second in command, under a French Flibustier named Gandy. By the usual Buccaneer law, he had been made captain of a large Spanish prize. The French commanders in the same fleet, jealous of this promotion, seized the ship, plundered the English prize crew, and sent them ashore. Tristan, another French captain, took ten of them with him to Petit Guaves. Cook and his nine companions, taking advantage of a day when Tristan and many of his men were absent, overpowered the rest of the crew, sent them ashore, and sailed to the Isle à la Vache. Here he picked up a crew of English Buccaneers, and steered for Virginia, taking two prizes by the way, one of which was a French vessel, laden with wines. He then sold his wine and two of the ships, and equipped the largest, the _Revenge_, with eighteen guns. Amongst the crew were Dampier, Wafer, and Cowley, all of whom have written narratives of their voyages. They sailed from the Chesapeak on the 23rd of August 1683, and captured a Dutch vessel, laden with wine and provisions. At the Cape de Verd islands they encountered a dreadful storm, that lasted a week. While the ship scudded before wind and sea under bare poles, she was suddenly broached to by order of the master, and would have foundered but for Dampier and another man who, going aloft and spreading out the flaps of their coats, righted the ship. At the isle of Sal, the sailors feasted on flamingo tongues. These birds stood in ranks round the feeding ponds, so as to resemble a new brick wall. They purchased here some ambergris, which Dampier says he had in a lump of 100 lbs. weight. Its origin was at that time unknown; it is now believed to be a secretion of the whale. The governor and his court at this island rejoiced in rags, their revenues being small, and drawn principally from the salt ponds, from which the island derives its name. Having dug wells, watered, and careened, they went to Mayo to obtain provisions, but were not allowed to land, as only about a week before Captain Bond, a pirate of Bristol, had carried off the governor and some of his people. Steering to the Straits of Magellan, they were driven to the Guinea coast, and there captured a Danish ship by a stratagem. Captain Cook, concealing his men under deck, approached the Dane like a weak, unarmed merchant vessel. When quite close, he commanded in a loud voice the helm to be put one way, while by a preconcerted plan the steersman shifted into another, and fell on board the Dane, which was captured with the loss of only five men. She was double their size, carried thirty-six guns, and was equipped and victualled for a long voyage. This vessel they called _The Bachelor's Delight_, and they at once burned the _Revenge_, that she might "tell no tales." During frequent tornadoes near the straits, being short of fresh meat, the sailors caught sharks during the calms, and boiling their flesh, stewed it with pepper and vinegar. When they reached the Falkland, or Sebald de Weist islands, as they were then called, Dampier proposed to the captain to reach Juan Fernandez by Cape Horn, avoiding the straits. Their men being privateers, wilful, and not much in command, he feared would not give sufficient attention in a passage so difficult, and, though he owns they were more than usually obedient, he says he could not expect to find them at an instant's call in critical moments. At these islands they found the sea for a mile round red with shoals of small, scarlet-shelled lobsters. Dampier's advice was not taken, but on entering the South Sea they met the _Nicholas_, of London, a vessel fitted out ostensibly as a trader, but being in reality a Buccaneer. The captain came on board, related his adventures, and gave them a supply of bread and beef. They reached Juan Fernandez together, and heard from the _Nicholas_ of a vessel from London, called the _Cygnet_, commanded by Captain Swan, which was sailing in those latitudes. It was a trader, holding a licence from the Duke of York, then High Admiral of England. The crews discovered on the island the Mosquito Indian left behind by Captain Watling, in Lussan's expedition, because he was hunting goats when the vessel sailed. He was warmly greeted by Dampier, a fellow-countryman named Robin, and some old messmates. Robin, running up to him, fell flat on his face at his feet, and then rose and embraced him. They found he had killed three goats, and prepared some cabbage palms, to feast his visitors. The interview, writes Dampier, was tender, solemn, and affecting. When abandoned, William had nothing with him but his gun and a knife, some powder, and some shot. By notching his knife into a saw, he cut his gun barrel into pieces. These he hammered in the fire, and ground them into lances, harpoons, hooks, and knives. He hunted goats, fished, and killed seals. His clothes he made of skins, and with these also he had lined his hut; and he had contrived to elude the search of the Spaniards. Wild goats, originally brought by the Spaniard, abounded on the hills and in the grassy valleys. There was abundance of water and good timber, and the bays abounded with seals and sea-lions, that covered the sea for a mile. Remaining here sixteen days, for the sake of the sick and those ill with the scurvy, and getting in water and provision, Cook then steered for the American coast, standing out fourteen or fifteen leagues to escape the notice of the Spaniard. The ridges were blue and mountainous. They soon captured a timber ship from Guayaquil laden with timber for Lima, from whose crew they heard that their arrival was known. They anchored next at the sandy islet of Lobos de la Mar, and scrubbed their ships. Captain Eaton, of the _Nicholas_, proposing to march with them in their descents, and the two vessels mustering 108 able men, Cook soon took another prize, and Eaton two more, which he pursued. They were laden with flour from Lima for Panama, and in one of them was eight tons of quince marmalade. The prisoners informed them that, on the rumour of their approach, 800,000 pieces of eight had been landed at an intermediate port. They sailed next to the Galapagos islands, abandoning a design on Truxillo, which they heard had been lately fortified. On these rocky, barren shores they feasted on turtle, pigeons, fish, and the leaves of the mammee tree. Off Cape Blanco, Captain Cook died, and was buried on land. Capturing some Spanish Indians who had been sent as spies by the Governor of Panama, they used them as guides, and landed on the coast in search of cattle. Here a few of the men were surprised by fifty armed Spaniards, and their boat burned. The sailors thus imperilled waded out neck deep to an insulated rock near the shore, and remained there for seven hours exposed to the Spanish bullets, till they were taken off by a boat from their ship just as the tide was rising to devour them. The Spanish, lurking in ambush, made no attempt to resist the rescue. The quartermaster, Edward Davis, was now elected commander; and after cutting lancewood for the handles of their oars, they bore away for Ria Lexa, steering for a high volcano that rises above the town and the island that forms the harbour. But here, too, the Spaniards had thrown up breast-works and placed sentinels, and the Buccaneers sailed for the Gulf of Ampalla and the island of Mangera. Davis captured the padre of a village and two Indian boys, and, proceeding to Ampalla, informed the people that he commanded a Biscay ship, sent by the King of Spain to clear those seas of pirates, and that he had come there to careen. The sailors were well received, and entertained with feasts and music, and they all repaired together to celebrate a festival by torchlight in the church. Here Davis hoped to cage them till he could dictate a ransom, but the impatience of one of his men frustrated the plan. Pushing in a lingering Indian, the man spread an alarm, the people all fled, and the Buccaneers, firing, killed one of their chiefs. They remained, however, good friends, and these very Indians soon after helped to store the ship with cattle belonging to a nunnery, situated on an island in the gulf. On leaving, Davis gave them one of his prize ships, and a quantity of flour, and released the priest who had helped him in his first stratagem. The crews now quarrelled, and Davis, who claimed the largest share of the common plunder, left them, taking Dampier with him. Eaton touched at Cocos island, purchased a store of flour, and took in water and cocoa nuts. Davis landed at Manta, a village near Cape St. Lorenzo, and captured two old women, in order to obtain information. They learnt that many Buccaneers had lately crossed the isthmus, and were coming along the coast in canoes and piraguas. The viceroy had left no means untried to check them; the goats on the uninhabited islands had been destroyed, provisions were removed from the shore, and ships even burnt to save them from the enemy. At La Plata, Davis was joined by Captain Swan in the _Cygnet_, who had turned freebooter in self-defence. He had been joined by Peter Harris, who commanded a small bark, and was nephew of the Buccaneer commander killed in a sea-fight at Panama three years before. They now sent for Eaton, but found from a letter at the rendezvous at Lobos, that he had already sailed for the East Indies. While the ships were refitting at La Plata, a small bark taken by Davis, after the Spaniards had set it on fire, captured a Spaniard of 400 tons, laden with timber, and brought word that the viceroy was fitting out ten frigates to sweep them from the seas. Captain Swan, at this crisis, turned wholly freebooter, and cleared his ship of goods by selling them to every Buccaneer on credit. The bulky bales he threw overboard, the silks and muslins he kept, and retained the iron bars for ballast. In compensation for these sacrifices, the Buccaneers agreed to set aside ten shares of all booty for Captain Swan's owners. Having cleaned the vessels and fitted up a fire-ship, the squadron landed at Paita, but found it deserted. Anchoring off the place, they demanded as ransom 300 pecks of flour, 3000 pounds of sugar, twenty-five jars of wine, and 1000 of water, and having coasted six days and obtained nothing, they burnt the town in revenge, and sailed away. They found afterwards that Eaton had been there not long before, landed his prisoners, and burnt a ship in the road. Burning Harris's vessel, which proved unseaworthy, the squadron steered for the island of Lobos del Tierra, and, being short of food, took in a supply of seals, penguins, and boobies, their Mosquito men supplying them with turtle, while the ships were cleaned and provided with firewood, preparatory to a descent upon Guayaquil. Embarking in their canoes, they captured in the bay a small ship laden with Quito cloth and two vessels full of negroes. One of these they dismasted, and a few only of the slaves they took with them. From disagreement between the two crews, the expedition failed. Having lain in the woods all night, and cut a road with great difficulty, they abandoned the scheme without firing a shot, when almost within a mile of the town, which they believed was alarmed, and on the watch. Dampier now proposed a scheme as feasible and grand as any of Raleigh's. He declared that they never had a greater opportunity of enriching themselves. His bold plan was, with the 1000 negroes lying in the three prizes, to go and work the gold mines of St. Martha. The Indians would at once join them from their hatred of the Spaniards. For provision they had 200 tons of flour laid up in the Galapagos islands; the North Sea would be open to them; thousands of Buccaneers would join them from all parts of the West Indies; united they would be a match for all the forces of Peru, and might be at once masters of the west coast as high as Quito. This golden cloud melted into mere fog. The Buccaneers returned to La Plata, divided the Quito cloth, and turned the Guayaquil vessel into a tender for the _Swan_. The old Buccaneers of Davis now quarrelled with the new recruits in the _Swan_, accused them of cowardice and of having baulked the attempt on Guayaquil, and complained of having to supply them with flour and turtle, for they had neither provisions nor Indian fishermen. Unable to divorce, the ill-assorted pair proceeded to attack together Lavelia, in the Bay of Panama. From charts found in the prizes they checked the deceptions and errors of the Spanish and Indian prisoners whom they employed as pilots. Their object was now to search for canoes in rivers unvisited by the Spaniards, where their schemes might remain still undiscovered. Such rivers abounded from the equinoctial line to the Gulf of St. Michael. When five days out from La Plata they made a sudden swoop on the village of Tomaco, and captured a vessel laden with timber, with a Spanish knight, eight sailors, and a canoe containing twelve jars of old wine. A boat party that rowed up the St. Jago river visited a house belonging to a lady of Lima, whose servants traded with the Indians for gold, several ounces of which were found left by them in their calabashes when they fled. The twin vessels next sailed for the island of Gallo, capturing by the way a packet boat from Lima, fishing up the letters, which the Spaniards had thrown overboard attached to a buoy. From these they learnt that the governor of Panama was hastening the departure of the triennial plate fleet from Callo to Panama, where it would be carried on mules across the isthmus. To intercept this fleet and to grow millionaires in a day was now their only dream. They proceeded at once to careen their ships at the Pearl islands in the bay of Panama. Their force consisted of two ships, three barks, a fire-ship, and two small tenders. Near the uninhabited island of Gorgona they captured a flour ship, and landing most of their prisoners at Gorgona, they proceeded to the bay, captured a small provision boat, and continued their watch, cruising round the city. Having cut off all communication between Panama and the islands in the bay, Davis proposed an exchange of prisoners, surrendering forty monks, whom he was glad to get rid of, for one of Harris's band and a sailor who had been surprised while hunting on an island. The Lima fleet still delaying, the Buccaneers anchored at Tavoga, an island abounding in cocoa and mammee trees, and beautiful water. About this time they were nearly ensnared by a Spanish ship, sent to the island at midnight under pretence of clandestine traffic. This scheme originated in Captain Bond, an English pirate who had deserted to the enemy. The squadron, which had scattered in alarm, to avoid the fire-ship, were just re-uniting and looking for their abandoned anchors, when a cry rose that a fleet of armed canoes were steering direct towards them through the island channel. This was the French Flibustiers of which we have given an account in the adventures of Ravenau de Lussan. After joining in the sea-fight off Panama, and the descent upon Leon and Ria Lexa, the Buccaneers again split into small parties. Dampier joined Swan and Townley, who determined to cruise along the shores of the mine country of Mexico, and then, sailing as high as the south-west point of California, cross the Pacific, and return to England by India. At Guatalico, famous for its blowing rock, they landed their sick for a few days, and obtained provisions, and, in a descent near Acapulco, stopped a string of sixty laden mules and killed eighteen beeves, carrying off all the cattle safely to their ships. To obtain provisions, Swan sacked the town of St. Pecaque, on the coast of New Gallicia, where large stores were kept for the use of the slaves of the neighbouring mines. A great many of these he carried off the first day on horseback and on the shoulders of his men. These visits were repeated--a party of Buccaneers keeping the town till the Spaniards had collected a force. Of this Captain Swan gave his men due warning, exhorting them, on their way to their canoes with the burdens of maize, to keep together in a compact body, but they chose to follow their own course, every man straggling singly while leading his horse, or carrying a load on his shoulder. They accordingly fell into the ambush the Spaniards had laid for them, and to the amount of fifty were surprised and mercilessly butchered. The Spaniards, seizing their arms and loaded horses, fled, before Swan, who heard the distant firing, could come to the assistance of his men. Fifty-four Englishmen and nine blacks fell in this affair, which was the most severe the Buccaneers had encountered in the South Sea. Dampier relates that Captain Swan had been warned of this disaster by an astrologer he had consulted before he sailed from England. Many of the men, too, had foreboded the misfortune; and the previous night, while lying in the church of St. Pecaque, had been disturbed by frequent groanings which kept them from sleeping. This disaster drove Swan from the coast to careen at Cape St. Lucas, the south point of California--in revenge for his loss leaving his pilot and prisoners on an uninhabited island. While lying here, Dampier was cured of dropsy by being buried all but his head in hot sand. The whole 150 men were now living on short allowances of maize, and the fish the Indians struck salted for store. One meal a-day was now the rule, and the victuals were served out by the quartermaster with the exactness of gold. Yet, even in this distress, two dogs and two cats received their daily shares. They now started for their cruise among the Philippines. In a long run of 7,302 miles they saw no living thing--neither bird, fish, nor insect, except one solitary flight of boobies. At the end of the voyage the men were almost in mutiny at the want of food, and had secretly resolved to kill and eat their captain (Swan), and afterwards, in regular order, all who had promoted the voyage. At the island of Gualan, where there was a Spanish fort and a garrison of thirty men, the Buccaneers traded with the natives, who took them for Spaniards from Acapulco. Captain Eaton, who had visited the island before them on his way to India, had, at the instigation of the Spaniards, plundered and killed many of the natives, and driven the rest to emigration. While trading here the Acapulco vessel arrived, and, being signalled by the governor, took to flight; but in her hurry to escape ran upon a shoal, from which she was with difficulty extricated. Swan, who now grew anxious for quiet commerce, discouraged the pursuit, and proceeded quietly on his voyage. At Mindanao, Captain Swan and thirty-six men were left behind by his crew, who were only anxious for plunder, and soon after captured a Spanish vessel bound for Manilla. Captain Swan was eventually drowned while attempting to escape to a Dutch vessel lying in the river. Weary of the mean robberies of the crew, who now turned mere pirates, Dampier left them at the Nicobar islands, and, embarking in canoes, reached Sumatra, and eventually sailed for England. The Buccaneers left behind in the South Sea prospered, and made many successful descents. At Lavelia Townley captured the treasure and merchandise landed from the Lima ship in the former year, for which Swan had watched so long in vain, and for which the Buccaneers had fought in the Bay of Panama. Townley died of his wounds. Harris followed Swan across the Pacific; and Knight, another English Buccaneer, satiated with plunder, returned home laden with Spanish gold; and off Cape Corrientes they lay in wait in vain for the Manilla ship, the great prize aimed at by all adventurers. Soon after, a malignant fever breaking out among the crews, many left the squadron and returned towards Panama, carrying back the Darien Indians, but leaving the Mosquito Indians in the _Cygnet_. Davis sailed from Guayaquil to careen at the Galapagos islands, which were in the South Pacific what Tortuga was in the North, the harbour and sanctuary of the Buccaneers. In returning by Cape Horn, Davis discovered Easter island, and left five of his men and five negro slaves on Juan Fernandez. These men had been stripped at the gambling-table, and were unwilling to return empty-handed. The _Bachelor's Delight_ eventually doubled Cape Horn, and he reached the West Indies just in time to avail himself of a pardon offered by royal proclamation. Dampier reached England in 1691, and having published his travels, was sent out in 1691 by William III. on a voyage of discovery to New Holland, and was wrecked near Ascension. In Queen Anne's reign, during the war of the succession, he commanded two privateers, and cruised against the Spaniards in the South Sea. His objects were to capture the Spanish plate vessels sailing from Buenos Ayres, to lie in wait for the gold ship from Boldivia to Lima, and to seize the Manilla galleon. Off Juan Fernandez he fought a French Buccaneer vessel for seven hours, but parted without effecting a capture. So strong were his old Flibustier habits upon him, that he confesses it with reluctance he attacked any vessel not a Spaniard. Before they reached the proper latitude the Boldivia vessel had sailed. Captain Stradling, the commander of his companion ship, parted company. A surprise of Santa Maria, in the bay of Panama, failed, but Dampier made a few small prizes. While lying in the gulf of Nicoya, his chief mate, John Clipperton, mutinied, and, seizing his tender, with its ammunition and stores, put out to sea. A worse disappointment awaited the commander--off the Fort de Narida he came suddenly upon the Manilla galleon, and gave her several broadsides before she could clear for action. But even at this disadvantage the Spaniards' twenty-four pounders soon silenced Dampier's five pounders, drove in the rotten planks of his vessel, the _St. George_, and compelled him to sheer off--the galleon's crew quadrupling that of the English. The men growing despondent and weary of the voyage, Dampier put thirty-four of them into a prize brigantine of seventy tons, and appointed one named Funnel as their commander. Allowing them to sail for India, he with twenty-nine men returned to Peru and plundered the town of Puna. The vessel being no longer fit for sea, they abandoned her at Lobos de la Mar, and embarking in a Spanish brigantine crossed the Pacific. In India, Dampier, having had his commission stolen by some of his deserters, was imprisoned by the Dutch. When he reached England at last, he found that Funnel had returned and published his voyage to the West Indies. A few of his men who had lost their money in gambling remained in the _Bachelor's Delight_ with Davis. It is supposed he now fell into very extreme poverty, for in 1708 we find him acting as pilot to the two Bristol privateers that circumnavigated the globe, and were as successful as he had been unfortunate. At Juan Fernandez the commander, Woodes Rogers, brought off the celebrated Alexander Selkirk, who had been abandoned here four years before, by Dampier's mutinous consort, Captain Stradling, and, by the traveller's advice, the poor outcast was made second mate of the _Duke_. At Guayaquil, where Dampier commanded the artillery, they obtained plunder to the value of £21,000, besides 27,000 dollars, as ransom for the town. Off Cape Lucas they captured a rich Manilla ship, laden with merchandise, and containing £12,000 in gold and silver. They also encountered the great Manilla galleon, but were beaten off after a severe engagement with a loss of twenty-five men. After a run of two months they reached Gualan, and obtained provisions by anchoring under Spanish colours. Visiting Batavia, they waited a long time at the Cape for a home-bound fleet, and in July, 1711, entered the Texel five-and-twenty sail, Dutch and English; and in October sailed up the Thames with booty valued at £150,000. Of the great Dampier we hear no more, and his very burial place is unknown. VAN HORN was originally a common Dutch sailor, who, having, by dint of the prudence of his nation, saved 200 dollars, entered into partnership with a messmate who had laid by the same sum, and, going to France, obtained a privateer's commission, and fitted up a fishing-boat with a crew of thirty men. Cruising first as Dutch, he then purchased a large vessel at Ostend, and, hoisting the French flag, made war on all nations. The French court ordered M. d'Estrees to detain this Flying Dutchman, whose commission had now expired, and a ship was sent for the purpose; but as the commander had no orders to proceed to extremities, and Van Horn was determined not to go alive, he was suffered to escape. Quite undaunted he proceeded to Puerto Rico, entered the bay, sounding his trumpets, and, sending on shore, told the governor that he had come to offer his services to escort the galleons which were then ready to sail. The governor accepted the offer, and Van Horn sailed off with them; but being soon joined by some Buccaneer companions, he turned on the prey, seized the richest, sank some others, and pursued the rest. Such was the commencement of this adventurer's career. His after life was worthy of such a beginning. Van Horn was immensely rich. He usually wore a string of pearls of extraordinary size, and a large ruby of great beauty. His widow lived afterwards at Ostend. In 1683, Van Horn, who had all his life fought under French colours, though not very scrupulous about what nation a vessel was, so it were rich, having gone to St. Domingo to sell negroes, had his ship confiscated by the Spanish governor. The Buccaneer's ungovernable passions could no more brook such an insult than a knight would have borne a blow. Buccaneer pride desired revenge; Buccaneer cupidity desired redress. Resolved on vengeance, the angry Dutchman hastened to Petit Guaves, and took out a commission from the governor of Tortuga, and at once enrolled 300 of the bravest Buccaneers, with a determination of attacking Vera Cruz. Among his crew were enrolled several of the leading Buccaneer chiefs. Grammont, who had lately lost his ship at the Isles des Aves, lately a commander, was now a mere volunteer. Such were the vicissitudes of Buccaneer life. Laurence de Graff was also there. He was a Dutchman like Van Horn, but one came from Ostend and the other from Dort. Among the less celebrated were Godefroy and Jonqué. Their numbers soon swelled to 1,200 picked men, in six vessels, under the command of Van Horn and De Graff, who had each a frigate of fifty guns, while the rest had simple barks. Their common aim was Vera Cruz, the emporium of all the riches of New Spain, and they needed no other incitement to urge them to speed and unity. From some Spanish prisoners they heard that two large vessels laden with cocoa were hourly expected at Vera Cruz from the Caraccas. The Buccaneer leaders instantly fitted up two of their largest ships in the Spanish fashion, and, hoisting the Spanish flag, sent them boldly into the harbour, as if just returning as peaceful but armed traders from a long and successful voyage. It was the eve of the Assumption, crowds of sailors and townsmen lined the quays, and the expectant populace cheered the rich merchantmen as they steered with a stately sweep into the haven. The keener eyes, however, soon observed that the Caraccas vessels advanced very slowly, although the wind was good, and their suspicions became excited almost before the Buccaneers could work into port. Some even ran to tell the governor that all was not right, but Don Luis de Cordova told them that their fears were foolish, the two vessels he knew by unmistakable signs to be the two vessels he expected; and he returned the same answer to the commander of the fort at St. Jean d'Ulloa, who also sent to bid him be upon his guard. About midnight the French, under cover of the dark, landed at the old town, about three leagues to the west of the more modern city. They obtained easy access to the place, and surprised the governor in his bed. The drowsy sentinels once overpowered, the small fortress with its twelve guns was in the possession of their men. At every corner pickets were placed. The surprise was so complete, that when the tocsin rang at daybreak, the watchmen being alarmed at some musket shots they heard, they found the town already bound hand and foot. At the first clang of the bell, the garrison rushed out of their barracks, and ranged themselves under their colours, but saw the French already in arms at the head of all the principal streets. They were surrounded and helpless. When the day broke, nobody dare show themselves, for all those who ran out armed were instantly struck down. Sentinels were placed at every door in the principal streets, a barrel of powder with the lid off by their sides, ready to fire the train that connected one with the other at the least signal of danger. We believe it was on this occasion that Van Horn forced a monk into the cathedral, who preached to the people on the vanity of worldly riches, and the necessity of abandoning them to the spoiler. The Buccaneers then drove all the Spaniards into their houses, and forced the women and children into the churches. Here they remained, crowded together, weeping and hungry, for three days, while their enemies collected the booty. The Buccaneers, now safe, abandoned themselves, as usual, to debauchery and gluttony--some dying from immoderate gluttony. Fortunately for this wretched people, the bishop of the town, happening to be near Vera Cruz at the time, began to treat for their ransom. It was fixed at two million piastres, of which a part was paid the very same day--the Buccaneers only dispensing with the remaining million, as the Vice-Royal was already approaching the town at the head of a large force. Dangers were now hemming in the Dutchman and his band. About eleven o'clock in the morning, the look-out on the tower of St. Catherine's reported that a fleet of fourteen sail was approaching the city. The Buccaneers, alarmed, sprang to arms. Aghast at this intelligence, the French, dreading to be shut in between two fires, decided upon an immediate retreat. The townspeople, terrified at the prospect of being massacred by their infuriated and despairing enemies, were as apprehensive of danger as the Buccaneers themselves. Van Horn embarked with speed all the plate and cochineal, and the more valuable and portable of the spoil, and waited eagerly for the ransom which was now almost in sight. It, however, never arrived, for the drivers of the mules, hearing the firing, halted till the fleet came within sight. The Buccaneers had no time to lose, and compensated themselves by carrying off 1,500 slaves to their vessels, which lay moored at some leagues' distance, at Grijaluc, a place of safety. They spent the night in great disorder, in continual apprehension of being attacked by the Spanish fleet, which was, at the same time, congratulating itself on reaching Vera Cruz unharmed. The danger of the Buccaneers was indeed not yet removed, for they had neither water nor sufficient provisions, and some 1,500 prisoners were on board. About these hostages the leaders differed in opinion, and words ran high. The two chiefs fought, and Van Horn received a sword thrust in the arm from De Graff. The several crews took up their captains' quarrels, and would have come to blows, had not De Graff divided the prey, and at once set sail. Van Horn followed, but died on the passage, a gangrene having formed upon a wound at first very slight. He was devotedly beloved by his men, says Charlevoix, though he was in the habit of cutting down any sailor whom he saw flinch at his guns. He left his frigate with his dying breath to Grammont, who reached St. Domingo, after dreadful sufferings, having lost three-fourths of his prisoners by famine--his patache being cast away and taken by the Spaniards. De Graff's vessel was also wrecked, but the crew made their way one by one to St. Domingo, where, in spite of the ill reception of the governor, they were welcomed by the hospitality of the inhabitants, who longed to share the treasure of Vera Cruz. The governor, M. de Franquesnoy, without fortress or garrison, and exposed to the inroads of the Spaniards, could make no resistance to these wild refugees, who, on one occasion, hearing that he intended to seize upon part of the Vera Cruz booty, surrounded his house to the number of 120 men, and threatened his life. At this time, a general outbreak of the French was expected. It was in the very next year that the governor of Carthagena, hearing that Michael le Basque and Jonqué were cruising near his port, sent two vessels against them, one of 48 guns and 300 men, and the other of 40 guns and 250 men, with a small bark as a decoy. The Buccaneer chiefs each commanded a vessel of 30 guns and 200 men. They both grappled the Spaniards, held them for an hour and a-half, swept their decks with musketry, tortured them with hand grenades and missiles, and eventually bore them off in triumph. All the Spaniards who were not killed were put on shore with a note to the governor, thanking him for having sent them two such good vessels, as their own had long been unfit for service. They, moreover, promised to wait fifteen days off Carthagena for any other vessel he might wish to get rid of, provided he would send money in them, of which they were in great need. END OF VOL. II. LONDON: SERCOMBE AND JACK, 16 GREAT WINDMILL STREET. 
26690	----	http://www.eBookForge.net Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations and images of the original pages. See 26690-h.htm or 26690-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/6/6/9/26690/26690-h/26690-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/6/6/9/26690/26690-h.zip) THE PIRATES OF PANAMA [Illustration: "THE MAN-OF-WAR GAVE THEM CHASE"--_Page 43_] THE PIRATES OF PANAMA Or The Buccaneers of America A True Account of the Famous Adventures and Daring Deeds of Sir Henry Morgan and Other Notorious Freebooters of the Spanish Main by JOHN ESQUEMELING _One of the Buccaneers who was Present at those Tragedies_ EDITED AND ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS [Illustration] New York Frederick A. Stokes Company Publishers Copyright, 1914, by Frederick A. Stokes Company All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages. Printed in the United States of America CONTENTS PAGE (1) INTRODUCTION BY GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS xi (2) THE TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION xv CHAPTER I. The Introduction--The Author sets forth for the Western Islands, in the service of the West India Company of France--They meet with an English frigate, and arrive at the Island of Tortuga 1 CHAPTER II. A description of Tortuga--The fruits and plants there--How the French first settled there, at two several times, and forced out the Spaniards--The Author twice sold in the said island 7 CHAPTER III. A description of Hispaniola--Also a relation of the French Buccaneers 19 CHAPTER IV. Original of the most famous pirates of the coasts of America--Famous exploit of Pierre le Grand 34 CHAPTER V. How the pirates arm their vessels, and regulate their voyages 39 CHAPTER VI. Of the origin of Francis Lolonois, and the beginning of his robberies 57 CHAPTER VII. Lolonois equips a fleet to land upon the Spanish islands of America, with intent to rob, sack, and burn whatsoever he met with 63 CHAPTER VIII. Lolonois makes new preparations to take the city of St. James de Leon; as also that of Nicaragua; where he miserably perishes 81 CHAPTER IX. The origin and descent of Captain Henry Morgan--His exploits, and the most remarkable actions of his life 101 CHAPTER X. Of the Island of Cuba--Captain Morgan attempts to preserve the Isle of St. Catherine as a refuge to the nest of pirates; but fails of his design--He arrives at, and takes, the village of El Puerto del Principe 112 CHAPTER XI. Captain Morgan resolving to attack and plunder the City of Puerto Bello, equips a fleet, and with little expense and small forces takes it 123 CHAPTER XII. Captain Morgan takes the City of Maracaibo, on the coast of Neuva Venezuela--Piracies committed in those seas--Ruin of three Spanish ships set forth to hinder the robberies of the pirates 134 CHAPTER XIII. Captain Morgan goes to Hispaniola to equip a new fleet, with intent to pillage again on the coast of the West Indies 170 CHAPTER XIV. What happened in the river De la Hacha 173 CHAPTER XV. Captain Morgan leaves Hispaniola, and goes to St. Catherine's, which he takes 179 CHAPTER XVI. Captain Morgan takes the Castle of Chagre, with four hundred men sent to this purpose from St. Catherine's 187 CHAPTER XVII. Captain Morgan departs from Chagre, at the head of twelve hundred men, to take the city of Panama 195 CHAPTER XVIII. Captain Morgan sends canoes and boats to the South Sea--He fires the city of Panama--Robberies and cruelties committed there by the pirates, till their return to the Castle of Chagre 213 ILLUSTRATIONS "The Man-of-War gave them chase" _Frontispiece_ FACING PAGE Pierre le Grand commanding the Spanish Captain to surrender the ship 36 "Portugues made the best of his way to del Golpho Triste" 46 "They boarded the ship with great agility" 92 "Lolonois, with those that remained, had much ado to escape aboard their boats" 96 Captain Morgan recruiting his forces 114 "Being come to the place of the duel, the Englishman stabbed the Frenchman in the back" 120 "Morgan commanded the religious men and women to place the ladders against the walls" 128 "They hanged him on a tree" 146 "The fire-ship sailing before the rest fell presently upon the great ship" 158 Morgan dividing the treasure taken at Maracaibo 166 Sacking of Panama--"Morgan re-entered the city with his troops" 214 INTRODUCTION This volume was originally written in Dutch by John Esquemeling, and first published in Amsterdam in 1678 under the title of De Americaeneche Zee Roovers. It immediately became very popular and this first hand history of the Buccaneers of America was soon translated into the principal European languages. The first English edition was printed in 1684. Of the author, John Esquemeling, very little is known although it is generally conceded that he was in all probability a Fleming or Hollander, a quite natural supposition as his first works were written in the Dutch language. He came to the island of Tortuga, the headquarters of the Buccaneers, in 1666 in the employ of the French West India Company. Several years later this same company, owing to unsuccessful business arrangements, recalled their representatives to France and gave their officers orders to sell the company's land and all its servants. Esquemeling then a servant of the company was sold to a stern master by whom he was treated with great cruelty. Owing to hard work, poor food and exposure he became dangerously ill, and his master seeing his weak condition and fearing to lose the money Esquemeling had cost him resold him to a surgeon. This new master treated him kindly so that Esquemeling's health was speedily restored, and after one year's service he was set at liberty upon a promise to pay his benefactor, the surgeon, 100 pieces of eight at such a time as he found himself in funds. Once more a free man he determined to join the pirates and was received into their society and remained with them until 1672. Esquemeling served the Buccaneers in the capacity of barber-surgeon, and was present at all their exploits. Little did he suspect that his first hand observations would some day be cherished as the only authentic and true history of the Buccaneers and Marooners of the Spanish Main. From time to time new editions of this work have been published, but in many cases much new material, not always authentic, has been added and the result has been to mar the original narrative as set forth by Esquemeling. In arranging this edition, the original English text only has been used, and but few changes made by cutting out the long and tedious description of plant and animal life of the West Indies of which Esquemeling had only a smattering of truth. But, the history of Captain Morgan and his fellow buccaneers is here printed almost identical with the original English translation, and we believe it is the first time this history has been published in a suitable form for the juvenile reader with no loss of interest to the adult. The world wide attention at this time in the Isthmus of Panama and the great canal connecting the Atlantic with the Pacific Ocean lends to this narrative an additional stimulus. Here are set forth the deeds of daring of the wild freebooters in crossing the isthmus to attack the cities, Puerto Bellow and Panama. The sacking and burning of these places accompanied by pillage, fire, and treasure seeking both on land and on sea form exciting reading. _The Buccaneers and Marooners of America_ well deserves a place on the book shelf with those old world-wide favorites _Robinson Crusoe_ and the _Swiss Family Robinson_. GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS. THE TRANSLATOR TO THE READER (OF 1684). _THE present Volume, both for its Curiosity and Ingenuity, I dare recommend unto the perusal of our English nation, whose glorious actions it containeth. What relateth unto the curiosity hereof, this Piece, both of Natural and Humane History, was no sooner published in the_ Dutch Original, _than it was snatch't up for the most curious Library's of_ Holland; _it was Translated into_ Spanish _(two impressions thereof being sent into_ Spain _in one year_); _it was taken notice of by the learned Academy of Paris; and finally recommended as worthy our esteem, by the ingenious Author of the_ Weekly Memorials for the Ingenious, _printed here at_ London _about two years ago. Neither all this undeservedly, seeing it enlargeth our acquaintance of Natural History, so much prized and enquir'd for, by the Learned of this present Age, with several observations not easily to be found in other accounts already received from_ America: _and besides, it informeth us (with huge novelty) of as great and bold attempts, in point of Military conduct and valour, as ever were performed by mankind; without excepting, here, either_ Alexander the Great, _or_ Julius Cæsar, _or the rest of the_ Nine Worthy's of Fame. _Of all which actions, as we cannot confess ourselves to have been ignorant hitherto (the very name of_ Bucaniers _being, as yet, known but unto few of the_ Ingenious; _as their Lives, Laws, and Conversation, are in a manner unto none) so can they not choose but be admired, out of this ingenuous Author, by whosoever is curious to learn the various revolutions of humane affairs. But, more especially by our_ English Nation; _as unto whom these things more narrowly do appertain. We having here more than half the Book filled with the unparallel'd, if not inimitable, adventures and_ Heroick _exploits of our own Country-men, and Relations; whose undaunted, and exemplary courage, when called upon by our King and Country, we ought to emulate._ _From whence it hath proceeded, that nothing of this kind was ever, as yet, published in_ England, _I cannot easily determine; except, as some will say, from some secret_ Ragion di Stato. _Let the reason be as t'will; this is certain, so much the more we are obliged unto this present Author, who though a stranger unto our Nation, yet with that Candour and Fidelity hath recorded our Actions, as to render the Metal of our true English Valour to be the more believed and feared abroad, than if these things had been divulged by our selves at home. From hence peradventure will other Nations learn, that the English people are of their Genius more inclinable to act than to write; seeing as well they as we have lived unacquainted with these actions of our Nation, until such time as a Foreign Author to our Country came to tell them._ _Besides the merits of this Piece for its curiosity, another point of no less esteem, is the truth and sincerity wherewith everything seemeth to be penned. No greater ornament or dignity can be added unto History, either humane or natural, than truth. All other embellishments, if this be failing, are of little or no esteem; if this be delivered, are either needless or superfluous. What concerneth this requisite in our Author, his lines do everywhere declare the faithfulness and sincerity of his mind. He writeth not by hearsay, but was an eye witness, as he somewhere telleth you, unto all and every one of the bold and hazardous attempts which he relateth. And these he delivereth with such candour of stile, such ingenuity of mind, such plainness of words, such conciseness of periods, so much divested of Rhetorical Hyperboles, or the least flourishes of Eloquence, so hugely void of Passion or national Reflections, as that he strongly perswadeth all-along to the credit of what he saith; yea, raiseth the mind of the Reader to believe these things far greater than what he hath said; and having read him, leaveth onely this scruple or concern behind, that you can read him no longer. In a word, such are his deserts, that some persons peradventure would not stickle to compare him to the Father of Historians_, Philip de Comines; _at least thus much may be said, with all truth imaginable, that he resembleth that great Author in many of his excellent qualities._ _I know some persons have objected against the greatness of these prodigious Adventures, intimating that the resistance our_ Bucaniers _found in_ America, _was everywhere but small. For the_ Spaniards, _say they, in the_ West Indies, _are become of late years nothing less, but rather much more degenerate than in_ Europe. _The continual Peace they have enjoyed in those parts, the defect of Military Discipline, and_ European _souldiers for their Commanders, much contributing hereunto. But more especially, and above all other reasons, the very luxury of the Soil and Riches, the extreme heat of those Countries, and influence of the Stars being such, as totally inclineth their bodies unto an infinite effeminacy and cowardize of minds._ _Unto these Reasons I shall only answer in brief. This History will convince them to be manifestly false. For as to the continual Peace here alleadged, we know that no Peace could ever be established_ beyond the Line, _since the first possession of the_ West-Indies _by the_ Spaniards, _till the burning of_ Panama. _At that time, or few months before_, Sir William Godolphin _by his prudent negotiation in quality of Embassadour for our most Gracious Monarch, did conclude at_ Madrid _a peace to be observed even_ beyond the Line, _and through the whole extent of the Spanish Dominions in the_ West-Indies. _This transaction gave the Spaniards new causes of complaints against our proceedings, that no sooner a Peace had been established for those parts of_ America, _but our forces had taken and burnt both_ Chagre, St. Catherine, _and_ Panama. _But our reply was convincing, That whereas eight or ten months of time had been allowed by Articles for the publishing of the said Peace through all the Dominions of both Monarchies in_ America, _those Hostilities had been committed, not onely without orders from his Majesty of_ England, _but also within the space of the said eight or ten months of time. Until that time the Spanish Inhabitants of_ America _being, as it were, in a perpetual War with_ Europe, _certain it is that no Coasts nor Kingdoms in the World have been more frequently infested nor alarm'd with the invasions of several Nations than theirs. Thus from the very beginning of their Conquests in America, both_ English, French, Dutch Portuguese, Swedes, Danes, _Curlanders, and all other nations that navigate the_ Ocean, _have frequented the_ West-Indies, _and filled them with their robberies and Assaults. From these occasions have they been in continual watch and ward, and kept their_ Militia _in constant exercise, as also their Garrisons pretty well provided and paid; as fearing every sail they discovered at Sea, to be_ Pirats _of one Nation or another. But much more especially, since that_ Curasao, Tortuga, _and_ Jamaica _have been inhabited by_ English, French, _and_ Dutch, _and bred up that race of_ Hunts-men, _than which, no other ever was more desperate, nor more mortal enemies to the Spaniards, called Bucaniers. Now shall we say, that these People, through too long continuation of Peace, have utterly abolished the exercises of War, having been all-along incessantly vexed with the Tumults and Alarms thereof?_ _In like manner is it false, to accuse their defect of Military Discipline for want of_ European _Commanders. For who knoweth not that all places, both Military and Civil, through those vast dominions of the_ West-Indies, _are provided out of_ Spain? _And those of the Militia most commonly given unto expert Commanders, trained up from their infancy in the Wars of_ Europe, _either in_ Africa, Milan, Sicily, Naples, _or_ Flanders, _fighting against either_ English, French, Dutch, Portuguese, _or_ Moors? _Yea their very Garrisons, if you search them in those parts, will peradventure be found to be stock'd three parts to four with Souldiers both born and bred in the Kingdom of_ Spain. _From these Considerations it may be inferr'd what little difference ought to be allowed betwixt the Spanish Souldiers, Inhabitants of the_ West-Indies, _and those of_ Europe. _And how little the Soil or Climate hath influenced or caused their Courage to degenerate towards cowardize or baseness of mind. As if the very same Argument, deduced from the nature of that Climate, did not equally militate against the valour of our famous Bucaniers, and represent this to be of as degenerate Metal as theirs._ _But nothing can be more clearly evinced, than is the Valour of the_ American Spaniards, _either Souldiers or Officers, by the sequel of this History. What men ever fought more desperately than the Garrison of_ Chagre? _Their number being 314, and of all these, only thirty remaining; of which number scarce ten were unwounded; and among them, not one officer found alive? Were not 600 killed upon the spot at_ Panama, _500 at_ Gibraltar, _almost as many more at_ Puerto del Principe, _all dying with their Arms in their hands, and facing bravely the Enemy for the defence of their Country and private Concerns? Did not those of the Town of_ San Pedro _both fortifie themselves, lay several Ambuscades, and lastly sell their lives as dear as any European Souldier could do; Lolonois being forced to gain step by step his advance unto the Town, with huge loss both of bloud and men? Many other instances might be produced out of this compendious Volume, of the generous resistance the_ Spaniards _made in several places, though Fortune favoured not their Arms._ _Next, as to the personal Valour of many of their Commanders, What man ever behaved himself more briskly than the Governour of_ Gibraltar, _than the Governour of_ Puerto del Principe, _both dying for the defence of their Towns; than Don Alonso del Campo, and others? Or what examples can easily parallel the desperate courage of the Governour of_ Chagre? _who, though the_ Palizda's _were fired, the Terraplens were sunk into the Ditch, the Breaches were entred, the Houses all burnt above him, the whole Castle taken, his men all killed; yet would not admit of any quarter, but chose rather to die under his Arms, being shot into the brain, than surrender himself as a Prisoner unto the_ Bucaniers. _What lion ever fought to the last gasp more obstinately than the Governour of_ Puerto Velo? _who, seeing the Town enter'd by surprizal in the night, one chief Castle blown up into the Air, all the other Forts and Castles taken, his own assaulted several ways, both Religious men and women placed at the front of the Enemy to fix the Ladders against the Walls; yet spared not to kill as many of the said Religious persons as he could. And at last, the walls being scaled, the Castle enter'd and taken, all his own men overcome by fire and sword, who had cast down their Arms, and begged mercy from the Enemy; yet would admit of none for his own life. Yet, with his own hands killed several of his Souldiers, to force them to stand to their Arms, though all were lost. Yea, though his own Wife and Daughter begged of him upon their knees that he would have his life by craving quarter, though the Enemy desired of him the same thing; yet would hearken to no cries nor perswasions, but they were forced to kill him, combating with his Arms in his hands, being not otherwise able to take him Prisoner, as they were desirous to do. Shall these men be said to be influenced with Cowardize, who thus acted to the very last_ Scene _of their own_ Tragedies? _Or shall we rather say that they wanted no Courage, but Fortune? It being certainly true, that he who is killed in a Batel, may be equally couragious with him that killeth. And that whosoever derogateth from the Valour of the_ Spaniards _in the_ West-Indies, _diminisheth in like manner the Courage of the_ Bucaniers, _his own Country-men, who have seemed to act beyond mortal men in_ America. _Now, to say something concerning_ John Esquemeling, _the first Author of this History. I take him to be a_ Dutch-man, _or at least born in_ Flanders, _notwithstanding that the Spanish Translation representeth him to be a Native of the Kingdom of_ France. _His printing this History originally in Dutch, which doubtless must be his native Tongue, who otherwise was but an illiterate man, together with the very sound of his name, convincing me thereunto. True it is, he set sail from_ France, _and was some years at_ Tortuga; _but neither of these two Arguments, drawn from the History, are prevalent. For were he to be a_ French-man _born, how came he to learn the_ Dutch _language so perfectly as to prefer it to his own? Especially that not being spoken at Tortuga nor_ Jamaica, _where he resided all the while._ _I hope I have made this English Translation something more plain and correct than the Spanish. Some few notorious faults either of the Printer or the Interpreter, I am sure I have redressed. But the Spanish Translator complaining much of the intricacy of Stile in the Original (as flowing from a person who, as hath been said, was no Scholar) as he was pardonable, being in great haste, for not rendring his own Version so distinct and elaborate as he could desire; so must I be excused from the one, that is to say, Elegancy, if I have cautiously declined the other, I mean Confusion._ THE PIRATES OF PANAMA THE BUCCANEERS OF AMERICA CHAPTER I _The introduction--The author sets forth for the Western islands, in the service of the West-India Company of France--They meet with an English frigate, and arrive at the Island of Tortuga._ WE set sail from Havre-de-Grace in France, from whence we set sail in the ship called _St. John_, May 2, 1666. Our vessel was equipped with twenty-eight guns, twenty mariners, and two hundred and twenty passengers, including those whom the company sent as free passengers. Soon after we came to an anchor under the Cape of Barfleur, there to join seven other ships of the same West-India company, which were to come from Dieppe, under convoy of a man-of-war, mounted with thirty-seven guns, and two hundred and fifty men. Of these ships two were bound for Senegal, five for the Caribbee islands, and ours for Tortuga. Here gathered to us about twenty sail of other ships, bound for Newfoundland, with some Dutch vessels going for Nantz, Rochel, and St. Martin's, so that in all we made thirty sail. Here we put ourselves in a posture of defence, having noticed that four English frigates, of sixty guns each, waited for us near Aldernay. Our admiral, the Chevalier Sourdis, having given necessary orders, we sailed thence with a favourable gale, and some mists arising, totally impeded the English frigates from discovering our fleet. We steered our course as near as we could to the coast of France, for fear of the enemy. As we sailed along, we met a vessel of Ostend, who complained to our admiral, that a French privateer had robbed him that very morning; whereupon we endeavoured to pursue the said pirate; but our labour was in vain, not being able to overtake him. Our fleet, as we sailed, caused no small fears and alarms to the inhabitants of the coasts of France, these judging us to be English, and that we sought some convenient place for landing. To allay their fright, we hung out our colours; but they would not trust us. After this we came to an anchor in the bay of Conquet in Brittany, near Ushant, there to take in water. Having stored ourselves with fresh provisions here, we prosecuted our voyage, designing to pass by the Ras of Fontenau, and not expose ourselves to the Sorlingues, fearing the English that were cruising thereabouts. The river Ras is of a current very strong and rapid, which, rolling over many rocks, disgorges itself into the sea, on the coast of France, in 48 deg. 10 min. latitude; so that this passage is very dangerous, all the rocks, as yet, being not thoroughly known. Here I shall mention the ceremony, which, at this passage, and some other places, is used by the mariners, and by them called baptism, though it may seem little to our purpose. The master's mate clothed himself with a ridiculous sort of garment, that reached to his feet, and on his head he put a suitable cap, made very burlesque; in his right hand he had a naked wooden sword, and in his left a pot full of ink: his face was horribly blacked with soot, and his neck adorned with a collar of many little pieces of wood. Thus apparelled, he commanded every one to be called who had never passed through that dangerous place before; and then, causing them to kneel down, he made the sign of the cross on their foreheads, with ink, and gave every one a stroke on the shoulders with his wooden sword. Meanwhile, the standers-by cast a bucket of water upon each man's head; and so ended the ceremony. But that done, each of the baptized must give a bottle of brandy, placing it nigh the main-mast, without speaking a word; even those who have no such liquor not being excused. If the vessel never passed that way before, the captain is obliged to distribute some wine among the mariners and passengers; but as for other gifts, which the newly-baptized frequently offer, they are divided among the old seamen, and of them they make a banquet among themselves. The Hollanders likewise, not only at this passage, but also at the rocks called Berlingues, nigh the coast of Portugal, in 39 deg. 40 min. (being a passage very dangerous, especially by night, when, in the dark, the rocks are not distinguishable, the land being very high) they use some such ceremony: but their manner of baptizing is very different from that of the French; for he that is to be baptized is fastened, and hoisted up thrice, at the mainyard's end, as if he were a criminal. If he be hoisted the fourth time, in the name of the Prince of Orange, or of the captain of the vessel, his honour is more than ordinary. Thus every one is dipped several times in the main ocean; but he that is dipped first has the honour of being saluted with a gun. Such as are not willing to fall, must pay twelve pence for ransom; if he be an officer, two shillings; and if a passenger, at their own pleasure. If the ship never passed that way before, the captain is to give a small rundlet of wine, which, if he denies, the mariners may cut off the stem of the vessel. All the profit accruing by this ceremony is kept by the master's mate, who, after reaching their port, usually lays it out in wine, which is drank amongst the ancient seamen. Some say this ceremony was instituted by the Emperor Charles V. though it is not amongst his laws. But here I leave these sea customs, and return to our voyage. Having passed the Ras, we had very good weather, till we came to Cape Finis Terræ: here a sudden tempest surprised us, and separated our ship from the rest that were in our company. This storm continued eight days; in which time it would move compassion to see how miserably the passengers were tumbled to and fro, on all sides of the ship; insomuch, that the mariners, in the performance of their duty, were compelled to tread upon them. This boisterous weather being over, we had very favourable gales again, till we came to the tropic of Cancer. This tropic is an imaginary circle, which astronomers have invented in the heavens, limiting the progress of the sun towards the north pole. It is placed in the latitude of 23 deg. 30 min. Here we were baptized a second time, as before. The French always perform this ceremony at the tropic of Cancer, as also under the tropic of Capricorn. In this part of the world we had very favourable weather, at which we were very glad, because of our great want of water; for that element is so scarce with us, that we were stinted to two half pints a man every day. About the latitude of Barbadoes, we met an English frigate, or privateer, who first began to give us chase; but finding herself not to exceed us in force, presently got away: hereupon, we pursued her, firing several guns, eight-pounders, at her; but at length she escaped, and we returned to our course. Soon after, we came within sight of Martinico. We were bent to the coast of the isle of St. Peter, but were frustrated by a storm, which took us hereabouts. Hence we resolved to steer to Gaudaloupe, yet we could not reach this island, by reason of the said storm; so that we directed our course to the isle of Tortuga, being the very same land we were bound to. We passed along the coast of Punta Rica, which is extremely agreeable and delightful to the sight, being adorned with beautiful woods, even to the tops of the mountains. Then we discovered Hispaniola (of which I shall give a description), and we coasted about it till we came to Tortuga, our desired port. Here we anchored, July 7, in the same year, not having lost one man in the voyage. We landed the goods that belonged to the West-India company, and, soon after, the ship was sent to Cal de Sac with some passengers. CHAPTER II _A description of Tortuga--The fruits and plants there--How the French first settled there, at two several times, and forced out the Spaniards--The author twice sold in the said island._ THE island of Tortuga is situate on the north side of Hispaniola, in 20 deg. 30 min. latitude; its just extent is threescore leagues about. The Spaniards, who gave name to this island, called it so from the shape of the land, in some manner resembling a great sea-tortoise, called by them Tortuga-de-mar. The country is very mountainous, and full of rocks, and yet thick of lofty trees, that grow upon the hardest of those rocks, without partaking of a softer soil. Hence it comes that their roots, for the greatest part, are seen naked, entangled among the rocks like the branching of ivy against our walls. That part of this island which stretches to the north is totally uninhabited: the reason is, first, because it is incommodious, and unhealthy: and, secondly, for the ruggedness of the coast, that gives no access to the shore, unless among rocks almost inaccessible: for this cause it is peopled only on the south part, which hath only one port indifferently good: yet this harbour has two entries, or channels, which afford passage to ships of seventy guns; the port itself being without danger, and capable of receiving a great number of vessels. The inhabited parts, of which the first is called the Low-Lands, or Low-Country: this is the chief among the rest, because it contains the port aforesaid. The town is called Cayona, and here live the chiefest and richest planters of the island. The second part is called the Middle Plantation: its soil is yet almost new, being only known to be good for tobacco. The third is named Ringot, and is situate towards the west part of the island. The fourth and last is called the Mountain, in which place were made the first plantations upon this island. As to the wood that grows here, we have already said that the trees are exceeding tall, and pleasing to the sight; whence no man will doubt, but they may be applied to several uses. Such is the yellow saunder, which by the inhabitants is called bois de chandel, or, in English, candle-wood, because it burns like a candle, and serves them with light while they fish by night. Here grows, also, lingnum sanctum, or guaiacum: its virtues are very well known, more especially to those who observe not the Seventh Commandment, and are given to impure copulations!--physicians drawing hence, in several compositions, the greatest antidote for venereal diseases; as also for cold and viscous humours. The trees, likewise, which afford gummi elemi, grow here in great abundance; as doth radix Chinæ, or China root: yet this is not so good as that of other parts of the western world. It is very white and soft, and serves for pleasant food to the wild boars, when they can find nothing else. This island, also, is not deficient in aloes, nor an infinite number of the other medicinal herbs, which may please the curiosity of such as are given to their contemplation: moreover, for building of ships, or any other sort of architecture, here are found several sorts of timber. The fruits, likewise, which grow here abundantly, are nothing inferior, in quantity or quality, to what other islands produce. I shall name only some of the most ordinary and common: such are magnoit, potatoes, Abajou apples, yannas, bacones, paquays, carosoles, mamayns, annananes, and divers other sorts, which I omit to specify. Here grow likewise, in great numbers, those trees called palmitoes, or palmites, whence is drawn a certain juice which serves the inhabitants instead of wine, and whose leaves cover their houses instead of tiles. In this island aboundeth, also, the wild boar. The governor hath prohibited the hunting of them with dogs, fearing lest, the island being but small, the whole race of them, in a short time, should be destroyed. The reason why he thought convenient to preserve these wild beasts was, that, in case of any invasion, the inhabitants might sustain themselves with their food, especially were they once constrained to retire to the woods and mountains. Yet this sort of game is almost impeded by itself, by reason of the many rocks and precipices, which, for the greatest part, are covered with little shrubs, very green and thick; whence the huntsmen have oftentimes fallen, and left us the sad remembrance of many a memorable disaster. At a certain time of the year there resort to Tortuga large flocks of wild pigeons, and then the inhabitants feed on them very plentifully, having more than they can consume, and leaving totally to their repose all other sorts of fowl, both wild and tame; that so, in the absence of the pigeons, these may supply their place. But as nothing in the universe, though never so pleasant, can be found, but what hath something of bitterness with it; the very symbol of this truth we see in the aforesaid pigeons: for these, the season being past, can scarce be touched with the tongue, they become so extremely lean, and bitter even to admiration. The reason of this bitterness is attributed to a certain seed which they eat about that time, even as bitter as gall. About the sea-shores, everywhere, are found great multitudes of crabs, both of land and sea, and both sorts very big. These are good to feed servants and slaves, whose palates they please, but are very hurtful to the sight: besides, being eaten too often, they cause great giddiness in the head, with much weakness of the brain; so that, very frequently, they are deprived of sight for a quarter of an hour. The French having settled in the isle of St. Christopher, planted there a sort of trees, of which, at present, there possibly may be greater quantities; with the timber whereof they made long-boats, and hoys, which they sent thence westward, well manned and victualled, to discover other islands. These setting sail from St. Christopher, came within sight of Hispaniola, where they arrived with abundance of joy. Having landed, they marched into the country, where they found large quantities of cattle; such as cows, bulls, horses, and wild boars: but finding no great profit in these animals, unless they could enclose them, and knowing, likewise, the island to be pretty well peopled by the Spaniards, they thought it convenient to enter upon and seize the island of Tortuga. This they performed without any difficulty, there being upon the island no more than ten or twelve Spaniards to guard it. These few men let the French come in peaceably, and possess the island for six months, without any trouble; meanwhile they passed and repassed, with their canoes, to Hispaniola, from whence they transported many people, and at last began to plant the whole island of Tortuga. The few Spaniards remaining there, perceiving the French to increase their number daily, began, at last, to repine at their prosperity, and grudge them the possession: hence they gave notice to others of their nation, their neighbours, who sent several boats, well armed and manned, to dispossess the French. This expedition succeeded according to their desires; for the new possessors, seeing the great number of Spaniards, fled with all they had to the woods, and hence, by night, they wafted over with canoes to the island of Hispaniola: this they the more easily performed, having no women or children with them, nor any great substance to carry away. Here they also retired into the woods, both to seek for food, and from thence, with secrecy, to give intelligence to others of their own faction; judging for certain, that within a little while they should be in a capacity to hinder the Spaniards from fortifying in Tortuga. Meanwhile, the Spaniards of the great island ceased not to seek after their new guests, the French, with intent to root them out of the woods if possible, or cause them to perish with hunger; but this design soon failed, having found that the French were masters both of good guns, powder, and bullets. Here therefore the fugitives waited for a certain opportunity, wherein they knew the Spaniards were to come from Tortuga with arms, and a great number of men, to join with those of the greater island for their destruction. When this occasion offered, they in the meanwhile deserting the woods where they were, returned to Tortuga, and dispossessed the small number of Spaniards that remained at home. Having so done, they fortified themselves the best they could, thereby to prevent the return of the Spaniards in case they should attempt it. Moreover, they sent immediately to the governor of St. Christopher's, craving his aid and relief, and demanding of him a governor, the better to be united among themselves, and strengthened on all occasions. The governor of St. Christopher's received their petition with much satisfaction, and, without delay, sent Monsieur le Passeur to them in quality of a governor, together with a ship full of men, and all necessaries for their establishment and defence. No sooner had they received this recruit, but the governor commanded a fortress to be built upon the top of a high rock, from whence he could hinder the entrance of any ships or other vessels to the port. To this fort no other access could be had, than by almost climbing through a very narrow passage that was capable only of receiving two persons at once, and those not without difficulty. In the middle of this rock was a great cavity, which now serves for a storehouse: besides, here was great convenience for raising a battery. The fort being finished, the governor commanded two guns to be mounted, which could not be done without great toil and labour; as also a house to be built within the fort, and afterwards the narrow way, that led to the said fort, to be broken and demolished, leaving no other ascent thereto than by a ladder. Within the fort gushes out a plentiful fountain of pure fresh water, sufficient to refresh a garrison of a thousand men. Being possessed of these conveniences, and the security these things might promise, the French began to people the island, and each of them to seek their living; some by hunting, others by planting tobacco, and others by cruizing and robbing upon the coasts of the Spanish islands, which trade is continued by them to this day. The Spaniards, notwithstanding, could not behold, but with jealous eyes, the daily increase of the French in Tortuga, fearing lest, in time, they might by them be dispossessed also of Hispaniola. Thus taking an opportunity (when many of the French were abroad at sea, and others employed in hunting), with eight hundred men, in several canoes, they landed again in Tortuga, almost without being perceived by the French; but finding that the governor had cut down many trees for the better discovery of any enemy in case of an assault, as also that nothing of consequence could be done without great guns, they consulted about the fittest place for raising a battery. This place was soon concluded to be the top of a mountain which was in sight, seeing that from thence alone they could level their guns at the fort, which now lay open to them since the cutting down of the trees by the new possessors. Hence they resolved to open a way for the carriage of some pieces of ordnance to the top. This mountain is somewhat high, and the upper part thereof plain, from whence the whole island may be viewed: the sides thereof are very rugged, by reason a great number of inaccessible rocks do surround it; so that the ascent was very difficult, and would always have been the same, had not the Spaniards undergone the immense labour and toil of making the way before mentioned, as I shall now relate. The Spaniards had with them many slaves and Indians, labouring men, whom they call matades, or, in English, half-yellow men; these they ordered with iron tools to dig a way through the rocks. This they performed with the greatest speed imaginable; and through this way, by the help of many ropes and pulleys, they at last made shift to get up two pieces of ordnance, wherewith they made a battery next day, to play on the fort. Meanwhile, the French knowing these designs, prepared for a defence (while the Spaniards were busy about the battery) sending notice everywhere to their companions for help. Thus the hunters of the island all joined together, and with them all the pirates who were not already too far from home. These landed by night at Tortuga, lest they should be seen by the Spaniards; and, under the same obscurity of the night, they all together, by a back way, climbed the mountain where the Spaniards were posted, which they did the more easily being acquainted with these rocks. They came up at the very instant that the Spaniards, who were above, were preparing to shoot at the fort, not knowing in the least of their coming. Here they set upon them at their backs with such fury as forced the greatest part to precipitate themselves from the top to the bottom, and dash their bodies in pieces: few or none escaped; for if any remained alive, they were put to the sword. Some Spaniards did still keep the bottom of the mountain; but these, hearing the shrieks and cries of them that were killed, and believing some tragical revolution to be above, fled immediately towards the sea, despairing ever to regain the island of Tortuga. The governors of this island behaved themselves as proprietors and absolute lords thereof till 1664, when the West-India company of France took possession thereof, and sent thither, for their governor, Monsieur Ogeron. These planted the colony for themselves by their factors and servants, thinking to drive some considerable trade from thence with the Spaniards, even as the Hollanders do from Curacao: but this design did not answer; for with other nations they could drive no trade, by reason they could not establish any secure commerce from the beginning with their own; forasmuch as at the first institution of this company in France they agreed with the pirates, hunters, and planters, first possessors of Tortuga, that these should buy all their necessaries from the said company upon trust. And though this agreement was put in execution, yet the factors of the company soon after found that they could not recover either monies or returns from those people, that they were constrained to bring some armed men into the island, in behalf of the company, to get in some of their payments. But neither this endeavour, nor any other, could prevail towards the settling a second trade with those of the island. Hereupon, the company recalled their factors, giving them orders to sell all that was their own in the said plantation, both the servants belonging to the company (which were sold, some for twenty, and others for thirty pieces of eight), as also all other merchandizes and proprieties. And thus all their designs fell to the ground. On this occasion I was also sold, being a servant under the said company in whose service I left France: but my fortune was very bad, for I fell into the hands of the most cruel and perfidious man that ever was born, who was then governor, or rather lieutenant-general, of that island. This man treated me with all the hard usage imaginable, yea, with that of hunger, with which I thought I should have perished inevitably. Withal, he was willing to let me buy my freedom and liberty, but not under the rate of three hundred pieces of eight, I not being master of one at a time in the world. At last, through the manifold miseries I endured, as also affliction of mind, I was thrown into a dangerous sickness. This misfortune, added to the rest, was the cause of my happiness: for my wicked master, seeing my condition, began to fear lest he should lose his monies with my life. Hereupon he sold me a second time to a surgeon, for seventy pieces of eight. Being with this second master, I began soon to recover my health through the good usage I received, he being much more humane and civil than my first patron. He gave me both clothes and very good food; and after I had served him but one year, he offered me my liberty, with only this condition, that I should pay him one hundred pieces of eight when I was in a capacity so to do; which kind proposal of his I could not but accept with infinite joy and gratitude. Being now at liberty, though like Adam when he was first created--that is, naked and destitute of all human necessaries--not knowing how to get my living, I determined to enter into the order of the pirates or robbers at sea. Into this society I was received with common consent, both of the superior and vulgar sort, where I continued till 1672. Having assisted them in all their designs and attempts, and served them in many notable exploits (of which hereafter I shall give the reader a true account), I returned to my own native country. But before I begin my relation, I shall say something of the island Hispaniola, which lies towards the western part of America; as also give my reader a brief description thereof, according to my slender ability and experience. CHAPTER III _A Description of Hispaniola.--Also a Relation of the French Buccaneers._ THE large and rich island called Hispaniola is situate from 17 degrees to 19 degrees latitude; the circumference is 300 leagues; the extent from east to west 120; its breadth almost 50, being broader or narrower at certain places. This island was first discovered by Christopher Columbus, A.D. 1492; he being sent for this purpose by Ferdinand, king of Spain; from which time to this present the Spaniards have been continually possessors thereof. There are upon this island very good and strong cities, towns, and hamlets, as well as a great number of pleasant country houses and plantations, the effects of the care and industry of the Spaniards its inhabitants. The chief city and metropolis hereof is Santo Domingo; being dedicated to St. Dominic, from whom it derives its name. It is situate towards the south, and affords a most excellent prospect; the country round about being embellished with innumerable rich plantations, as also verdant meadows and fruitful gardens; all which produce plenty and variety of excellent pleasant fruits, according to the nature of those countries. The governor of the island resides in this city, which is, as it were, the storehouse of all the cities, towns, and villages, which hence export and provide themselves with all necessaries for human life; and yet hath it this particularity above many other cities, that it entertains no commerce with any nation but its own, the Spaniards. The greatest part of the inhabitants are rich and substantial merchants or shopkeepers. Another city of this island is San Jago, or St. James, being consecrated to that apostle. This is an open place, without walls or castle, situate in 19 deg. latitude. The inhabitants are generally hunters and planters, the adjacent territory and soil being very proper for the said exercises: the city is surrounded with large and delicious fields, as much pleasing to the view as those of Santo Domingo; and these abound with beasts both wild and tame, yielding vast numbers of skins and hides, very profitable to the owners. In the south part of this island is another city, called Nuestra Sennora de Alta Gracia. This territory produces great quantities of cacao, whereof the inhabitants make great store of the richest chocolate. Here grows also ginger and tobacco, and much tallow is made of the beasts which are hereabouts hunted. The inhabitants of this beautiful island of Hispaniola often resort in their canoes to the isle of Savona, not far distant, where is their chief fishery, especially of tortoises. Hither those fish constantly resort in great multitudes, at certain seasons, there to lay their eggs, burying them in the sands of the shoal, where, by the heat of the sun, which in those parts is very ardent, they are hatched. This island of Savona has little or nothing that is worthy consideration, being so very barren by reason of its sandy soil. True it is, that here grows some small quantity of lignum sanctum, or guaiacum, of whose use we say something in another place. Westward of Santo Domingo is another great village called El Pueblo de Aso, or the town of Aso: the inhabitants thereof drive great traffic with those of another village, in the very middle of the island, and is called San Juan de Goave, or St. John of Goave. This is environed with a magnificent prospect of gardens, woods, and meadows. Its territory extends above twenty leagues in length, and grazes a great number of wild bulls and cows. In this village scarce dwell any others than hunters and butchers, who flay the beasts that are killed. These are for the most part a mongrel sort of people; some of which are born of white European people and negroes, and called mulattoes: others of Indians and white people, and termed mesticos: but others come of negroes and Indians, and are called alcatraces. From the said village are exported yearly vast quantities of tallow and hides, they exercising no other traffic: for as to the lands in this place, they are not cultivated, by reason of the excessive dryness of the soil. These are the chiefest places that the Spaniards possess in this island, from the Cape of Lobos towards St. John de Goave, unto the Cape of Samana nigh the sea, on the north side, and from the eastern part towards the sea, called Punta de Espada. All the rest of the island is possessed by the French, who are also planters and hunters. This island hath very good ports for ships, from the Cape of Lobos to the Cape of Tiburon, on the west side thereof. In this space there are no less than four ports, exceeding in goodness, largeness, and security, even the very best of England. Besides these, from the Cape of Tiburon to the Cape of Donna Maria, there are two very excellent ports; and from this cape to the Cape of St. Nicholas, there are no less than twelve others. Every one of these ports hath also the confluence of two or three good rivers, in which are great plenty of several sorts of fish very pleasing to the palate. The country hereabouts is well watered with large and deep rivers and brooks, so that this part of the land may easily be cultivated without any great fear of droughts, because of these excellent streams. The sea-coasts and shores are also very pleasant, to which the tortoises resort in large numbers to lay their eggs. This island was formerly very well peopled, on the north side, with many towns and villages; but these, being ruined by the Hollanders, were at last, for the greatest part, deserted by the Spaniards. The spacious fields of this island commonly are five or six leagues in length, the beauty whereof is so pleasing to the eye, that, together with the great variety of their natural productions, they captivate the senses of the beholder. For here at once they not only with diversity of objects recreate the sight, but with many of the same do also please the smell, and with most contribute delights to the taste; also they flatter and excite the appetite, especially with the multitudes of oranges and lemons here growing, both sweet and sour, and those that participate of both tastes, and are only pleasantly tartish. Besides here abundantly grow several sorts of fruit, such are citrons, toronjas, and limas; in English not improperly called crab lemons. Beside the fruit which this island produces, whose plenty, as is said, surpasses all the islands of America; it abounds also with all sorts of quadrupeds, as horses, bulls, cows, wild boars, and others, very useful to mankind, not only for food, but for cultivating the ground, and the management of commerce. Here are vast numbers of wild dogs: these destroy yearly many cattle; for no sooner hath a cow calved, or a mare foaled, but these wild mastiffs devour the young, if they find not resistance from keepers and domestic dogs. They run up and down the woods and fields, commonly fifty, threescore, or more, together; being withal so fierce, that they will often assault an entire herd of wild boars, not ceasing to worry them till they have fetched down two or three. One day a French buccaneer showed me a strange action of this kind: being in the fields a-hunting together, we heard a great noise of dogs which has surrounded a wild boar: having tame dogs with us, we left them to the custody of our servants, being desirous to see the sport. Hence my companion and I climbed up two several trees, both for security and prospect. The wild boar, all alone, stood against a tree, defending himself with his tusks from a great number of dogs that enclosed him; killed with his teeth, and wounded several of them. This bloody fight continued about an hour; the wild boar, meanwhile, attempting many times to escape. At last flying, one dog, leaping upon his back, fastened on his throat. The rest of the dogs, perceiving the courage of their companion, fastened likewise on the boar, and presently killed him. This done, all of them, the first only excepted, laid themselves down upon the ground about the prey, and there peaceably continued, till he, the first and most courageous of the troop, had ate as much as he could: when this dog had left off, all the rest fell in to take their share, till nothing was left. What ought we to infer from this notable action, performed by wild animals, but this: that even beasts themselves are not destitute of knowledge, and that they give us documents how to honour such as have deserved well; even since these irrational animals did reverence and respect him that exposed his life to the greatest danger against the common enemy? The governor of Tortuga, Monsieur Ogeron, finding that the wild dogs killed so many of the wild boars, that the hunters of that island had much ado to find any; fearing lest that common substance of the island should fail, sent for a great quantity of poison from France to destroy the wild mastiffs: this was done, A.D. 1668, by commanding horses to be killed, and empoisoned, and laid open at certain places where the wild dogs used to resort. This being continued for six months, there were killed an incredible number; and yet all this could not exterminate and destroy the race, or scarce diminish them; their number appearing almost as large as before. These wild dogs are easily tamed among men, even as tame as ordinary house dogs. The hunters of those parts, whenever they find a wild bitch with whelps, commonly take away the puppies, and bring them home; which being grown up, they hunt much better than other dogs. But here the curious reader may perhaps inquire how so many wild dogs came here. The occasion was, the Spaniards having possessed these isles, found them peopled with Indians, a barbarous people, sensual and brutish, hating all labour, and only inclined to killing, and making war against their neighbours; not out of ambition, but only because they agreed not with themselves in some common terms of language; and perceiving the dominion of the Spaniards laid great restrictions upon their lazy and brutish customs, they conceived an irreconcilable hatred against them; but especially because they saw them take possession of their kingdoms and dominions. Hereupon, they made against them all the resistance they could, opposing everywhere their designs to the utmost: and the Spaniards finding themselves cruelly hated by the Indians, and nowhere secure from their treacheries, resolved to extirpate and ruin them, since they could neither tame them by civility, nor conquer them with the sword. But the Indians, it being their custom to make the woods their chief places of defence, at present made these their refuge, whenever they fled from the Spaniards. Hereupon, those first conquerors of the New World made use of dogs to range and search the intricatest thickets of woods and forests for those their implacable and unconquerable enemies: thus they forced them to leave their old refuge, and submit to the sword, seeing no milder usage would do it; hereupon they killed some of them, and quartering their bodies, placed them in the highways, that others might take warning from such a punishment; but this severity proved of ill consequence, for instead of fighting them and reducing them to civility, they conceived such horror of the Spaniards, that they resolved to detest and fly their sight for ever; hence the greatest part died in caves and subterraneous places of the woods and mountains, in which places I myself have often seen great numbers of human bones. The Spaniards finding no more Indians to appear about the woods, turned away a great number of dogs they had in their houses, and they finding no masters to keep them, betook themselves to the woods and fields to hunt for food to preserve their lives; thus by degrees they became unacquainted with houses, and grew wild. This is the truest account I can give of the multitudes of wild dogs in these parts. But besides these wild mastiffs, here are also great numbers of wild horses everywhere all over the island: they are but low of stature, short bodied, with great heads, long necks, and big or thick legs: in a word, they have nothing handsome in their shape. They run up and down commonly in troops of two or three hundred together, one going always before to lead the multitude: when they meet any person travelling through the woods or fields, they stand still, suffering him to approach till he can almost touch them: and then suddenly starting, they betake themselves to flight, running away as fast as they can. The hunters catch them only for their skins, though sometimes they preserve their flesh likewise, which they harden with smoke, using it for provisions when they go to sea. Here would be also wild bulls and cows in great number, if by continual hunting they were not much diminished; yet considerable profit is made to this day by such as make it their business to kill them. The wild bulls are of a vast bigness of body, and yet they hurt not any one except they be exasperated. Their hides are from eleven to thirteen feet long. It is now time to speak of the French who inhabit great part of this island. We have already told how they came first into these parts: we shall now only describe their manner of living, customs, and ordinary employments. The callings or professions they follow are generally but three, either to hunt or plant, or else to rove the seas as pirates. It is a constant custom among them all, to seek out a comrade or companion, whom we may call partner in their fortunes, with whom they join the whole stock of what they possess towards a common gain. This is done by articles agreed to, and reciprocally signed. Some constitute their surviving companion absolute heir to what is left by the death of the first: others, if they be married, leave their estates to their wives and children; others, to other relations. This done, every one applies himself to his calling, which is always one of the three afore-mentioned. The hunters are again subdivided into two sorts; for some of these only hunt wild bulls and cows, others only wild boars. The first of these are called bucaniers, and not long ago were about six hundred on this island, but now they are reckoned about three hundred. The cause has been the great decrease of wild cattle, which has been such, that, far from getting, they now are but poor in their trade. When the bucaniers go into the woods to hunt for wild bulls and cows, they commonly remain there a twelvemonth or two years, without returning home. After the hunt is over, and the spoil divided, they commonly sail to Tortuga, to provide themselves with guns, powder, and shot, and other necessaries for another expedition; the rest of their gains they spend prodigally, giving themselves to all manner of vices and debauchery, particularly to drunkenness, which they practise mostly with brandy: this they drink as liberally as the Spaniards do water. Sometimes they buy together a pipe of wine; this they stave at one end, and never cease drinking till it is out. Thus sottishly they live till they have no money left. The said bucaniers are very cruel and tyrannical to their servants, so that commonly they had rather be galley-slaves, or saw Brazil wood in the rasphouses of Holland, than serve such barbarous masters. The second sort hunt nothing but wild boars; the flesh of these they salt, and sell it so to the planters. These hunters have the same vicious customs, and are as much addicted to debauchery as the former; but their manner of hunting is different from that in Europe; for these bucaniers have certain places designed for hunting, where they live for three or four months, and sometimes a whole year. Such places are called deza boulan; and in these, with only the company of five or six friends, they continue all the said time in mutual friendship. The first bucaniers many times agree with planters to furnish them with meat all the year at a certain price: the payment hereof is often made with two or three hundredweight of tobacco in the leaf; but the planters commonly into the bargain furnish them with a servant, whom they send to help. To the servant they afford sufficient necessaries for the purpose, especially of powder and shot to hunt withal. The planters here have but very few slaves; for want of which, themselves and their servants are constrained to do all the drudgery. These servants commonly bind themselves to their masters for three years; but their masters, having no consciences, often traffic with their bodies, as with horses at a fair, selling them to other masters as they sell negroes. Yea, to advance this trade, some persons go purposely into France (and likewise to England, and other countries) to pick up young men or boys, whom they inveigle and transport; and having once got them into these islands, they work them like horses, the toil imposed on them being much harder than what they enjoin the negroes, their slaves; for these they endeavour to preserve, being their perpetual bondmen: but for their white servants, they care not whether they live or die, seeing they are to serve them no longer than three years. These miserable kidnapped people are frequently subject to a disease, which in these parts is called coma, being a total privation of their senses. This distemper is judged to proceed from their hard usage, and the change of their native climate; and there being often among these some of good quality, tender education, and soft constitutions, they are more easily seized with this disease, and others of those countries, than those of harder bodies, and laborious lives. Beside the hard usage in their diet, apparel, and rest, many times they beat them so cruelly, that they fall down dead under the hands of their cruel masters. This I have often seen with great grief. Of the many instances, I shall only give you the following history, it being remarkable in its circumstances. A certain planter of these countries exercised such cruelty towards one of his servants, as caused him to run away. Having absconded, for some days, in the woods, at last he was taken, and brought back to the wicked Pharaoh. No sooner had he got him, but he commanded him to be tied to a tree; here he gave him so many lashes on his naked back, as made his body run with an entire stream of blood; then, to make the smart of his wounds the greater, he anointed him with lemon-juice, mixed with salt and pepper. In this miserable posture he left him tied to the tree for twenty-four hours, which being past, he began his punishment again, lashing him, as before, so cruelly, that the miserable wretch gave up the ghost, with these dying words: "I beseech the Almighty God, creator of heaven and earth, that he permit the wicked spirit to make thee feel as many torments before thy death, as thou hast caused me to feel before mine." A strange thing, and worthy of astonishment and admiration! Scarce three or four days were past, after this horrible fact, when the Almighty Judge, who had heard the cries of the tormented wretch, suffered the evil one suddenly to possess this barbarous and inhuman homicide, so that those cruel hands which had punished to death his innocent servant, were the tormentors of his own body: for he beat himself and tore his flesh, after a miserable manner, till he lost the very shape of a man; not ceasing to howl and cry, without any rest by day or night. Thus he continued raving mad, till he died. Many other examples of this kind I could rehearse; but these not belonging to our present discourse, I omit them. The planters of the Caribbee islands are rather worse, and more cruel to their servants, than the former. In the isle of St. Christopher dwells one named Bettesa, well known to the Dutch merchants, who has killed above a hundred of his servants with blows and stripes. The English do the same with their servants; and the mildest cruelty they exercise towards them is, that when they have served six years of their time (they being bound among the English for seven) they use them so cruelly, as to force them to beg of their masters to sell them to others, though it be to begin another servitude of seven years, or at least three or four. And I have known many, who have thus served fifteen or twenty years, before they could obtain their freedom. Another law, very rigorous in that nation, is, if any man owes another above twenty-five shillings English, if he cannot pay it, he is liable to be sold for six or eight months. Not to trouble the reader any longer with relations of this kind, I shall now describe the famous actions and exploits of the greatest pirates of my time, during my residence in those parts: these I shall relate without the least passion or partiality, and assure my reader that I shall give him no stories upon trust, or hearsay, but only those enterprises to which I was myself an eye-witness. CHAPTER IV _Original of the most famous pirates of the coasts of America--Famous exploit of Pierre le Grand._ I HAVE told you in the preceding chapters how I was compelled to adventure my life among the pirates of America; which sort of men I name so, because they are not authorized by any sovereign prince: for the kings of Spain having on several occasions sent their ambassadors to the kings of England and France, to complain of the molestations and troubles those pirates often caused on the coasts of America, even in the calm of peace; it hath always been answered, "that such men did not commit those acts of hostility and piracy as subjects to their majesties; and therefore his Catholic Majesty might proceed against them as he should think fit." The king of France added, "that he had no fortress nor castle upon Hispaniola, neither did he receive a farthing of tribute from thence." And the king of England adjoined, "that he had never given any commissions to those of Jamaica, to commit hostilities against the subjects of his Catholic Majesty." Nor did he only give this bare answer, but out of his royal desire to pleasure the court of Spain, recalled the governor of Jamaica, placing another in his room; all which could not prevent these pirates from acting as heretofore. But before I relate their bold actions, I shall say something of their rise and exercises; as also of the chiefest of them, and their manner of arming themselves before they put to sea. The first pirate that was known upon Tortuga was Pierre le Grand, or Peter the Great. He was born at Dieppe in Normandy. That action which rendered him famous was his taking the vice-admiral of the Spanish flota, near the Cape of Tiburon, on the west side of Hispaniola; this he performed with only one boat, and twenty-eight men. Now till that time the Spaniards had passed and repassed with all security, through the channel of Bahama; so that Pierre le Grand setting out to sea by the Caycos, he took this great ship with all the ease imaginable. The Spaniards they found aboard they set ashore, and sent the vessel to France. The manner how this undaunted spirit attempted and took this large ship I shall give you, out of the journal of the author, in his own words. "The boat," says he, "wherein Pierre le Grand was with his companions, had been at sea a long time without finding any prize worth his taking; and their provisions beginning to fail, they were in danger of starving. Being almost reduced to despair, they spied a great ship of the Spanish flota, separated from the rest; this vessel they resolved to take, or die in the attempt. Hereupon, they sailed towards her, to view her strength. And though they judged the vessel to be superior to theirs, yet their covetousness, and the extremity they were reduced to, made them venture. Being come so near that they could not possibly escape, they made an oath to their captain, Pierre le Grand, to stand by him to the last. 'Tis true, the pirates did believe they should find the ship unprovided to fight, and thereby the sooner master her. It was in the dusk of the evening they began to attack; but before they engaged, they ordered the surgeon of the boat to bore a hole in the sides of it, that their own vessel sinking under them, they might be compelled to attack more vigorously, and endeavour more hastily to board the ship. This was done accordingly, and without any other arms than a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other, they immediately climbed up the sides of the ship, and ran altogether into the great cabin, where they found the captain, with several of his companions, playing at cards. Here they set a pistol to his breast, commanding him to deliver up the ship. The Spaniards, surprised to see the pirates on board their ship, cried 'Jesus bless us! are these devils, or what are they?' Meanwhile some of them took possession of the gun-room, and seized the arms, killing as many as made any opposition; whereupon the Spaniards presently surrendered. That very day the captain of the ship had been told by some of the seamen that the boat which was in view, cruising, was a boat of pirates; whom the captain slightly answered, 'What then, must I be afraid of such a pitiful thing as that is? No, though she were a ship as big and as strong as mine is.' As soon as Pierre le Grand had taken this rich prize, he detained in his service as many of the common seamen as he had need of, setting the rest ashore, and then set sail for France, where he continued, without ever returning to America again." [Illustration: "PIERRE LE GRAND COMMANDING THE SPANISH CAPTAIN TO SURRENDER THE SHIP"--_Page 36_] The planters and hunters of Tortuga had no sooner heard of the rich prize those pirates had taken, but they resolved to follow their example. Hereupon, many of them left their employments, and endeavoured to get some small boats, wherein to exercise piracy; but not being able to purchase, or build them at Tortuga, they resolved to set forth in their canoes, and seek them elsewhere. With these they cruised at first upon Cape de Alvarez, where the Spaniards used to trade from one city to another in small vessels, in which they carry hides, tobacco, and other commodities, to the Havannah, and to which the Spaniards from Europe do frequently resort. Here it was that those pirates at first took a great many boats laden with the aforesaid commodities; these they used to carry to Tortuga, and sell the whole purchase to the ships that waited for their return, or accidentally happened to be there. With the gains of these prizes they provided themselves with necessaries, wherewith to undertake other voyages, some of which were made to Campechy, and others toward New Spain; in both which the Spaniards then drove a great trade. Upon those coasts they found great numbers of trading vessels, and often ships of great burden. Two of the biggest of these vessels, and two great ships which the Spaniards had laden with plate in the port of Campechy, to go to the Caraccas, they took in less than a month's time, and carried to Tortuga; where the people of the whole island, encouraged by their success, especially seeing in two years the riches of the country so much increased, they augmented the number of pirates so fast, that in a little time there were, in that small island and port, above twenty ships of this sort of people. Hereupon the Spaniards, not able to bear their robberies any longer, equipped two large men-of-war, both for the defence of their own coasts, and to cruise upon the enemies. CHAPTER V _How the pirates arm their vessels, and regulate their voyages._ BEFORE the pirates go to sea, they give notice to all concerned, of the day on which they are to embark; obliging each man to bring so many pounds of powder and ball as they think necessary. Being all come aboard, they consider where to get provisions, especially flesh, seeing they scarce eat anything else; and of this the most common sort is pork; the next food is tortoises, which they salt a little: sometimes they rob such or such hog-yards, where the Spaniards often have a thousand head of swine together. They come to these places in the night, and having beset the keeper's lodge, they force him to rise, and give them as many heads as they desire, threatening to kill him if he refuses, or makes any noise; and these menaces are oftentimes executed on the miserable swine-keepers, or any other person that endeavours to hinder their robberies. Having got flesh sufficient for their voyage, they return to their ship: here they allow, twice a day, every one as much as he can eat, without weight or measure; nor does the steward of the vessel give any more flesh, or anything else, to the captain, than to the meanest mariner. The ship being well victualled, they deliberate whither they shall go to seek their desperate fortunes, and likewise agree upon certain articles, which are put in writing, which every one is bound to observe; and all of them, or the chiefest part, do set their hands to it. Here they set down distinctly what sums of money each particular person ought to have for that voyage, the fund of all the payments being what is gotten by the whole expedition; for otherwise it is the same law among these people as with other pirates. No prey, no pay. First, therefore, they mention how much the captain is to have for his ship; next, the salary of the carpenter, or shipwright, who careened, mended, and rigged the vessel: this commonly amounts to one hundred or one hundred and fifty pieces of eight, according to the agreement. Afterwards, for provisions and victualling, they draw out of the same common stock about two hundred pieces of eight; also a salary for the surgeon, and his chest of medicaments, which usually is rated at two hundred or two hundred and fifty pieces of eight. Lastly, they agree what rate each one ought to have that is either wounded or maimed in his body, suffering the loss of any limb; as, for the loss of a right arm, six hundred pieces of eight, or six slaves; for the left arm, five hundred pieces of eight, or five slaves; for a right leg, five hundred pieces of eight, or five slaves; for the left leg, four hundred pieces of eight, or four slaves; for an eye, one hundred pieces of eight, or one slave; for a finger, the same as for an eye. All which sums are taken out of the common stock of what is gotten by their piracy, and a very exact and equal dividend is made of the remainder. They have also regard to qualities and places: thus the captain, or chief, is allotted five or six portions, to what the ordinary seamen have: the master's mate only two, and other officers proportionately to their employ: after which, they draw equal parts from the highest to the lowest mariner, the boys not being omitted, who draw half a share; because when they take a better vessel than their own, it is in the boys' duty to fire their former vessel, and then retire to the prize. They observe among themselves very good orders; for in the prizes which they take, it is severely prohibited, to every one, to take anything to themselves: hence all they take is equally divided, as hath been said before: yea, they take a solemn oath to each other, not to conceal the least thing they find among the prizes; and if any one is found false to the said oath, he is immediately turned out of the society. They are very civil and charitable to each other; so that if any one wants what another has, with great willingness they give it one to another. As soon as these pirates have taken a prize, they immediately set ashore the prisoners, detaining only some few, for their own help and service: whom, also, they release, after two or three years. They refresh themselves at one island or another, but especially at those on the south of Cuba; here they careen their vessels, while some hunt, and others cruise in canoes for prizes. The inhabitants of New Spain and Campechy lade their best merchandize in ships of great bulk: the vessels from Campechy sail in the winter to Caraccas, Trinity isles, and that of Margarita, and return back again in the summer. The pirates knowing these seasons (being very diligent in their inquiries) always cruise between the places above-mentioned; but in case they light on no considerable booty, they commonly undertake some more hazardous enterprises: one remarkable instance of which I shall here give you. A certain pirate called Pierre François, or Peter Francis, waiting a long time at sea with his boat and twenty-six men, for the ships that were to return from Maracaibo to Campechy, and not being able to find any prey, at last he resolved to direct his course to Rancheiras, near the River de la Plata, in 12 deg. and a half north latitude. Here lies a rich bank of pearl, to the fishery whereof they yearly sent from Carthagena twelve vessels with a man-of-war for their defence. Every vessel has at least two negroes in it, who are very dextrous in diving to the depth of six fathoms, where they find good store of pearls. On this fleet, called the pearl-fleet, Pierre François resolved to venture, rather than go home empty; they then rid at anchor at the mouth of the River de la Hacha, the man-of-war scarce half a league distant from the small ships, and the wind very calm. Having spied them in this posture, he presently pulled down his sails, and rowed along the coast feigning to be a Spanish vessel coming from Maracaibo; but no sooner was he come to the pearl-bank, when suddenly he assaulted the vice-admiral of eight guns and sixty men, commanding them to surrender. The Spaniards made a good defence for some time, but at last were forced to submit. Having thus taken the vice-admiral, he resolved to attempt the man-of-war, with which addition he hoped to master the rest of the fleet: to this end he presently sunk his own boat, putting forth the Spanish colours, and weighed anchor with a little wind which then began to stir, having with threats and promises compelled most of the Spaniards to assist him: but so soon as the man-of-war perceived one of his fleet to sail, he did so too, fearing lest the mariners designed to run away with the riches they had on board. The pirate on this immediately gave over the enterprise, thinking themselves unable to encounter force to force: hereupon they endeavoured to get out of the river and gain the open seas, by making as much sail as they could; which the man-of-war perceiving, he presently gave them chase, but the pirates having laid on too much sail, and a gust of wind suddenly rising, their main-mast was brought by the board, which disabled them from escaping. This unhappy event much encouraged those in the man-of-war, they gaining upon the pirates every moment, and at last overtook them; but finding they had twenty-two sound men, the rest being either killed or wounded, resolved to defend themselves as long as possible; this they performed very courageously for some time, till they were forced by the man-of-war, on condition that they should not be used as slaves to carry stones, or be employed in other labours for three or four years, as they served their negroes, but that they should be set safe ashore on free land. On these articles they yielded with all they had taken, which was worth, in pearls alone, above 100,000 pieces of eight, besides the vessel, provisions, goods, &c. All of which would have made this a greater prize than he could desire, which he had certainly carried off, if his main-mast had not been lost, as we said before. Another bold attempt like this, no less remarkable, I shall also give you. A certain pirate of Portugal, thence called Bartholomew Portugues, was cruising in a boat of thirty men and four small guns from Jamaica, upon the Cape de Corriente in Cuba, where he met a great ship from Maracaibo and Carthagena, bound for the Havannah, well provided with twenty great guns and seventy men, passengers and mariners; this ship he presently assaulted, which they on board as resolutely defended. The pirate escaping the first encounter, resolved to attack her more vigorously than before, seeing he had yet suffered no great damage: this he performed with so much resolution, that at last, after a long and dangerous fight, he became master of it. The Portuguese lost only ten men, and had four wounded; so that he had still remaining twenty fighting men, whereas the Spaniards had double the number. Having possessed themselves of the ship, the wind being contrary to return to Jamaica, they resolved to steer to Cape St. Anthony (which lies west of Cuba), there to repair and take in fresh water, of which they were then in great want. Being very near the cape abovesaid, they unexpectedly met with three great ships coming from New Spain, and bound for the Havannah; by these not being able to escape, they were easily retaken, both ship and pirates, and all made prisoners, and stripped of all the riches they had taken but just before. The cargo consisted in 120,000 weight of cocoa-nuts, the chief ingredient of chocolate, and 70,000 pieces of eight. Two days after this misfortune, there arose a great storm, which separated the ships from one another. The great vessel, where the pirates were, arrived at Campechy, where many considerable merchants came and saluted the captain; these presently knew the Portuguese pirate, being infamous for the many insolencies, robberies and murders he had committed on their coasts, which they kept fresh in their memory. The next day after their arrival, the magistrates of the city sent to demand the prisoners from on board the ship, in order to punish them according to their deserts; but fearing the captain of the pirates should make his escape (as he had formerly done, being their prisoner once before) they judged it safer to leave him guarded on ship-board for the present, while they erected a gibbet to hang him on the next day, without any other process than to lead him from the ship to his punishment; the rumour of which was presently brought to Bartholomew Portugues, whereby he sought all possible means to escape that night: with this design he took two earthen jars, wherein the Spaniards carry wine from Spain to the West Indies, and stopped them very well, intending to use them for swimming, as those unskilled in that art do corks or empty bladders; having made this necessary preparation, he waited when all should be asleep; but not being able to escape his sentinel's vigilance, he stabbed him with a knife he had secretly purchased, and then threw himself into the sea with the earthen jars before-mentioned, by the help of which, though he never learned to swim, he reached the shore, and immediately took to the woods, where he hid himself for three days, not daring to appear, eating no other food than wild herbs. [Illustration: "'PORTUGUES MADE THE BEST OF HIS WAY TO DEL GOLPHO TRISTE'"--_Page 46_] Those of the city next day made diligent search for him in the woods, where they concluded him to be. This strict inquiry Portugues saw from the hollow of a tree, wherein he lay hid; and upon their return he made the best of his way to del Golpho Triste, forty leagues from Campechy, where he arrived within a fortnight after his escape: during which time, as also afterwards, he endured extreme hunger and thirst, having no other provision with him than a small calabaca with a little water: besides the fears of falling again into the hands of the Spaniards. He eat nothing but a few shell-fish, which he found among the rocks near the seashore; and being obliged to pass some rivers, not knowing well how to swim, he found at last an old board which the waves had driven ashore, wherein were a few great nails; these he took, and with no small labour whetted on a stone, till he had made them like knives, though not so well; with these, and nothing else, he cut down some branches of trees, which with twigs and osiers he joined together, and made as well as he could a boat to waft him over the rivers: thus arriving at the Cape of Golpho Triste, as was said, he found a vessel of pirates, comrades of his own, lately come from Jamaica. To these he related all his adversities and misfortunes, and withal desired they would fit him with a boat and twenty men, with which company alone he promised to return to Campechy, and assault the ship that was in the river, by which he had been taken fourteen days before. They presently granted his request, and equipped him a boat accordingly. With this small company he set out to execute his design, which he bravely performed eight days after he left Golpho Triste; for being arrived at Campechy, with an undaunted courage, and without any noise, he assaulted the said ship: those on board thought it was a boat from land that came to bring contraband goods, and so were in no posture of defence; which opportunity the pirates laying hold of, assaulted them so resolutely, that in a little time they compelled the Spaniards to surrender. Being masters of the ship, they immediately weighed anchor and set sail from the port, lest they should be pursued by other vessels. This they did with the utmost joy, seeing themselves possessors of so brave a ship; especially Portugues, who by a second turn of fortune was become rich and powerful again, who was so lately in that same vessel a prisoner, condemned to be hanged. With this purchase he designed greater things, which he might have done, since there remained in the vessel so great a quantity of rich merchandise, though the plate had been sent to the city: but while he was making his voyage to Jamaica, near the isle of Pinos, on the south of Cuba, a terrible storm arose, which drove against the Jardines rocks, where she was lost; but Portugues, with his companions, escaped in a canoe, in which he arrived at Jamaica, where it was not long ere he went on new adventures, but was never fortunate after. Nor less considerable are the actions of another pirate who now lives at Jamaica, who on several occasions has performed very surprising things. He was born at Groninghen in the United Provinces. His own name not being known, his companions gave him that of Roche Brasiliano, by reason of his long residence in Brasil: hence he was forced to fly, when the Portuguese retook those countries from the Dutch, several nations then inhabiting at Brasil (as English, French, Dutch, and others), being constrained to seek new fortunes. This person fled to Jamaica, where, being at a stand how to get his living, he entered himself into the society of pirates, where he served as a private mariner for some time, and behaved himself so well, that he was beloved and respected by all. One day some of the mariners quarrelled with their captain to that degree, that they left the boat. Brasiliano following them, was chosen their leader, who having fitted out a small vessel, they made him captain. Within a few days after, he took a great ship coming from New Spain, which had a great quantity of plate on board, and carried it to Jamaica. This action got him a great reputation at home; and though in his private affairs he governed himself very well, he would oftentimes appear brutish and foolish when in drink, running up and down the streets, beating and wounding those he met, no person daring to make any resistance. To the Spaniards he was always very barbarous and cruel, out of an inveterate hatred against that nation. Of these he commanded several to be roasted alive on wooden spits, for not showing him hog-yards where he might steal swine. After many of these cruelties, as he was cruising on the coasts of Campechy, a dismal tempest surprised him so violently, that his ship was wrecked upon the coasts, the mariners only escaping with their muskets and some few bullets and powder, which were the only things they could save. The ship was lost between Campechy and the Golpho Triste: here they got ashore in a canoe, and, marching along the coast with all the speed they could, they directed their course towards Golpho Triste, the common refuge of the pirates. Being upon his journey, and all very hungry and thirsty, as is usual in desert places, they were pursued by a troop of an hundred Spaniards. Brasiliano, perceiving their imminent danger, encouraged his companions, telling them they were better soldiers, and ought rather to die under their arms fighting, as it became men of courage, than surrender to the Spaniards, who would take away their lives with the utmost torments. The pirates were but thirty; yet, seeing their brave commander oppose the enemy with such courage, resolved to do the like: hereupon they faced the troop of Spaniards, and discharged their muskets on them so dextrously, that they killed one horseman almost with every shot. The fight continued for an hour, till at last the Spaniards were put to flight. They stripped the dead, and took from them what was most for their use; such as were also not quite dead they dispatched with the ends of their muskets. Having vanquished the enemy, they mounted on horses they found in the field, and continued their journey; Brasiliano having lost but two of his companions in this bloody fight, and had two wounded. Prosecuting their way, before they came to the port they spied a boat at anchor from Campechy, well manned, protecting a few canoes that were lading wood: hereupon they sent six of their men to watch them, who next morning, by a wile, possessed themselves of the canoes. Having given notice to their companions, they boarded them, and also took the little man-of-war, their convoy. Being thus masters of this fleet, they wanted only provisions, of which they found little aboard those vessels: but this defect was supplied by the horses, which they killed, and salted with salt, which by good fortune the wood-cutters had brought with them, with which they supported themselves till they could get better. They took also another ship going from New Spain to Maracaibo, laden with divers sorts of merchandise and pieces of eight, designed to buy cocoa-nuts for their lading home: all these they carried to Jamaica, where they safely arrived, and, according to custom, wasted all in a few days in taverns, giving themselves to all manner of debauchery. Such of these pirates will spend two or three thousand pieces of eight in a night, not leaving themselves a good shirt to wear in the morning. My own master would buy sometimes a pipe of wine, and, placing it in the street, would force those that passed by to drink with him, threatening also to pistol them if they would not. He would do the like with barrels of beer or ale; and very often he would throw these liquors about the streets, and wet peoples' clothes without regarding whether he spoiled their apparel. Among themselves these pirates are very liberal: if any one has lost all, which often happens in their manner of life, they freely give him of what they have. In taverns and alehouses they have great credit; but at Jamaica they ought not to run very deep in debt, seeing the inhabitants there easily sell one another for debt. This happened to my patron, to be sold for a debt of a tavern wherein he had spent the greatest part of his money. This man had, within three months before, three thousand pieces of eight in ready cash, all which he wasted in that little time, and became as poor as I have told you. But to return Brasiliano, after having spent all, was forced to go to sea again to seek his fortune. He set forth towards the coast of Campechy, his common rendezvous: fifteen days after his arrival, he put himself into a canoe to espy the port of that city, and see if he could rob any Spanish vessel; but his fortune was so bad, that both he and all his men were taken and carried before the governor, who immediately cast them into a dungeon, intending to hang them every one; and doubtless he had done so, but for a stratagem of Brasiliano, which saved their lives. He wrote a letter to the governor, in the names of other pirates that were abroad at sea, telling them he should have a care how he used those persons he had in custody; for if he hurt them in the least, they swore they would never give quarter to any Spaniard that should fall into their hands. These pirates having been often at Campechy, and other places of the West Indies in the Spanish dominions, the governor feared what mischief their companions abroad might do, if he should punish them. Hereupon he released them, exacting only an oath on them that they would leave their exercise of piracy for ever; and withal he sent them as common mariners, in the galleons, to Spain. They got in this voyage, all together, five hundred pieces of eight; so that they tarried not long there after their arrival. Providing themselves with necessaries, they returned to Jamaica, from whence they set forth again to sea, committing greater robberies and cruelties than before; but especially abusing the poor Spaniards, who fell into their hands, with all sorts of cruelty. The Spaniards, finding they could gain nothing on these people, nor diminish their number, daily resolved to lessen the number of their trading ships. But neither was this of any service; for the pirates, finding few ships at sea, began to gather into companies, and to land on their dominions, ruining cities, towns, and villages; pillaging, burning, and carrying away as much as they could. The first pirate who began these invasions by land was Lewis Scot, who sacked the city of Campechy, which he almost ruined, robbing and destroying all he could; and after he had put it to an excessive ransom, he left it. After Scot came another named Mansvelt, who invaded Granada, and penetrated even to the South Sea; till at last, for want of provision, he was forced to go back. He assaulted the isle of St. Catherine, which he took, with a few prisoners. These directed him to Carthagena, a principal city in Neuva Granada. But the bold attempts and actions of John Davis, born at Jamaica, ought not to be forgotten, being some of the most remarkable; especially his rare prudence and valour showed in the fore-mentioned kingdom of Granada. This pirate, having long cruised in the Gulf of Pocatauro, on the ships expected to Carthagena, bound for Nicaragua, and not meeting any of them, resolved at last to land in Nicaragua, leaving his ship hid on the coast. This design he soon executed; for taking eighty men out of ninety, which he had in all--and the rest he left to keep the ship--he divided them equally into three canoes. His intent was to rob the churches, and rifle the houses of the chief citizens of Nicaragua. Thus in the dark night they entered the river leading to that city, rowing in their canoes; by day they hid themselves and boats under the branches of trees, on the banks, which grow very thick along the river-sides in those countries, and along the sea-coast. Being arrived at the city the third night, the sentinel, who kept the post of the river, thought them to be fishermen that had been fishing in the lake: and most of the pirates understanding Spanish, he doubted not, as soon as he heard them speak. They had in their company an Indian who had run away from his master, who would have enslaved him unjustly. He went first ashore, and instantly killed the sentinel: this done, they entered the city, and went directly to three or four houses of the chief citizens, where they knocked softly. These, believing them to be friends, opened the doors; and the pirates, suddenly possessing themselves of the houses, stole all the money and plate they could find. Nor did they spare the churches and most sacred things; all of which were pillaged and profaned, without any respect or veneration. Meanwhile, great cries and lamentations were heard of some who had escaped them; so that the whole city was in an uproar, and all the citizens rallied in order, to a defence; which the pirates perceiving, they instantly fled, carrying away their booty, and some prisoners: these they led away, that if any of them should be taken by the Spaniards, they might use them for ransom. Thus they got to their ship, and with all speed put to sea, forcing the prisoners, before they let them go, to procure them as much flesh as was necessary for their voyage to Jamaica. But no sooner had they weighed anchor, when they saw a troop of about five hundred Spaniards, all well armed, at the sea-side: against these they let fly several guns, wherewith they forced them to quit the sands, and retire, with no small regret to see these pirates carry away so much plate of their churches and houses, though distant at least forty leagues from the sea. These pirates got, on this occasion, above four thousand pieces of eight in money, besides much plate, and many jewels; in all, to the value of fifty thousand pieces of eight, or more: with all this they arrived at Jamaica soon after. But this sort of people being never long masters of their money, they were soon constrained to seek more by the same means; and Captain John Davis, presently after his return, was chosen admiral of seven or eight vessels, he being now esteemed an able conductor for such enterprises. He began his new command by directing his fleet to the north of Cuba, there to wait for the fleet from New Spain; but missing his design, they determined for Florida. Being arrived there, they landed their men, and sacked a small city named St. Augustine of Florida. The castle had a garrison of two hundred men, but could not prevent the pillage of the city, they effecting it without the least damage from the soldiers or townsmen. CHAPTER VI _Of the origin of Francis Lolonois, and the beginning of his robberies._ FRANCIS LOLONOIS was a native of that territory in France which is called Les Sables d'Olone, or The Sands of Olone. In his youth he was transported to the Caribbee islands, in quality of servant, or slave, according to custom; of which we have already spoken. Being out of his time, he came to Hispaniola; here he joined for some time with the hunters, before he began his robberies upon the Spaniards, which I shall now relate, till his unfortunate death. At first he made two or three voyages as a common mariner, wherein he behaved himself so courageously as to gain the favour of the governor of Tortuga, Monsieur de la Place; insomuch that he gave him a ship, in which he might seek his fortune, which was very favourable to him at first; for in a short time he got great riches. But his cruelties against the Spaniards were such, that the fame of them made him so well known through the Indies, that the Spaniards, in his time, would choose rather to die, or sink fighting, than surrender, knowing they should have no mercy at his hands. But Fortune, being seldom constant, after some time turned her back; for in a huge storm he lost his ship on the coast of Campechy. The men were all saved, but coming upon dry land, the Spaniards pursued them, and killed the greatest part, wounding also Lolonois. Not knowing how to escape, he saved his life by a stratagem; mingling sand with the blood of his wounds, with which besmearing his face, and other parts of his body, and hiding himself dextrously among the dead, he continued there till the Spaniards quitted the field. They being gone, he retired to the woods, and bound up his wounds as well as he could. These being pretty well healed, he took his way to Campechy, having disguised himself in a Spanish habit; here he enticed certain slaves, to whom he promised liberty if they would obey him and trust to his conduct. They accepted his promises, and stealing a canoe, they went to sea with him. Now the Spaniards, having made several of his companions prisoners, kept them close in a dungeon, while Lolonois went about the town and saw what passed. These were often asked, "What is become of your captain?" To whom they constantly answered, "He is dead:" which rejoiced the Spaniards, who made bonfires, and, knowing nothing to the contrary, gave thanks to God for their deliverance from such a cruel pirate. Lolonois, having seen these rejoicings for his death, made haste to escape, with the slaves above-mentioned, and came safe to Tortuga, the common refuge of all sorts of wickedness, and the seminary, as it were, of pirates and thieves. Though now his fortune was low, yet he got another ship with craft and subtlety, and in it twenty-one men. Being well provided with arms and necessaries, he set forth for Cuba, on the south whereof is a small village, called De los Cayos. The inhabitants drive a great trade in tobacco, sugar, and hides, and all in boats, not being able to use ships, by reason of the little depth of that sea. Lolonois was persuaded he should get here some considerable prey; but by the good fortune of some fishermen who saw him, and the mercy of God, they escaped him: for the inhabitants of the town dispatched immediately a vessel overland to the Havannah, complaining that Lolonois was come to destroy them with two canoes. The governor could very hardly believe this, having received letters from Campechy that he was dead: but, at their importunity, he sent a ship to their relief, with ten guns, and ninety men, well armed; giving them this express command, "that they should not return into his presence without having totally destroyed those pirates." To this effect he gave them a negro to serve for a hangman, and orders, "that they should immediately hang every one of the pirates, excepting Lolonois, their captain, whom they should bring alive to the Havannah." This ship arrived at Cayos, of whose coming the pirates were advertised beforehand, and instead of flying, went to seek it in the river Estera, where she rode at anchor. The pirates seized some fishermen, and forced them by night to show them the entry of the port, hoping soon to obtain a greater vessel than their two canoes, and thereby to mend their fortune. They arrived, after two in the morning, very nigh the ship; and the watch on board the ship asking them, whence they came, and if they had seen any pirates abroad? They caused one of the prisoners to answer, they had seen no pirates, nor anything else. Which answer made them believe that they were fled upon hearing of their coming. But they soon found the contrary, for about break of day the pirates assaulted the vessel on both sides, with their two canoes, with such vigour, that though the Spaniards behaved themselves as they ought, and made as good defence as they could, making some use of their great guns, yet they were forced to surrender, being beaten by the pirates, with sword in hand, down under the hatches. From hence Lolonois commanded them to be brought up, one by one, and in this order caused their heads to be struck off: among the rest came up the negro, designed to be the pirates' executioner; this fellow implored mercy at his hands very dolefully, telling Lolonois he was constituted hangman of that ship, and if he would spare him, he would tell him faithfully all that he should desire. Lolonois, making him confess what he thought fit, commanded him to be murdered with the rest. Thus he cruelly and barbarously put them all to death, reserving only one alive, whom he sent back to the governor of the Havannah, with this message in writing: "I shall never henceforward give quarter to any Spaniard whatsoever; and I have great hopes I shall execute on your own person the very same punishment I have done upon them you sent against me. Thus I have retaliated the kindness you designed to me and my companions." The governor, much troubled at this sad news, swore, in the presence of many, that he would never grant quarter to any pirate that should fall into his hands. But the citizens of the Havannah desired him not to persist in the execution of that rash and rigorous oath, seeing the pirates would certainly take occasion from thence to do the same, and they had an hundred times more opportunity of revenge than he; that being necessitated to get their livelihood by fishery, they should hereafter always be in danger of their lives. By these reasons he was persuaded to bridle his anger, and remit the severity of his oath. Now Lolonois had got a good ship, but very few provisions and people in it; to purchase both which, he resolved to cruise from one port to another. Doing thus, for some time, without success, he determined to go to the port of Maracaibo. Here he surprised a ship laden with plate, and other merchandises, outward bound, to buy cocoa-nuts. With this prize he returned to Tortuga, where he was received with joy by the inhabitants; they congratulating his happy success, and their own private interest. He stayed not long there, but designed to equip a fleet sufficient to transport five hundred men, and necessaries. Thus provided, he resolved to pillage both cities, towns, and villages, and finally, to take Maracaibo itself. For this purpose he knew the island of Tortuga would afford him many resolute and courageous men, fit for such enterprises: besides, he had in his service several prisoners well acquainted with the ways and places designed upon. CHAPTER VII _Lolonois equips a fleet to land upon the Spanish islands of America, with intent to rob, sack and burn whatsoever he met with._ OF this design Lolonois giving notice to all the pirates, whether at home or abroad, he got together, in a little while, above four hundred men; beside which, there was then in Tortuga another pirate, named Michael de Basco, who, by his piracy, had got riches sufficient to live at ease, and go no more abroad; having, withal, the office of major of the island. But seeing the great preparations that Lolonois made for this expedition, he joined him, and offered him, that if he would make him his chief captain by land (seeing he knew the country very well, and all its avenues) he would share in his fortunes, and go with him. They agreed upon articles to the great joy of Lolonois, knowing that Basco had done great actions in Europe, and had the repute of a good soldier. Thus they all embarked in eight vessels, that of Lolonois being the greatest, having ten guns of indifferent carriage. All things being ready, and the whole company on board, they set sail together about the end of April, being, in all, six hundred and sixty persons. They steered for that part called Bayala, north of Hispaniola: here they took into their company some French hunters, who voluntarily offered themselves, and here they provided themselves with victuals and necessaries for their voyage. From hence they sailed again the last of July, and steered directly to the eastern cape of the isle called Punta d'Espada. Hereabouts espying a ship from Puerto Rico, bound for New Spain, laden with cocoa-nuts, Lolonois commanded the rest of the fleet to wait for him near Savona, on the east of Cape Punta d'Espada, he alone intending to take the said vessel. The Spaniards, though they had been in sight full two hours, and knew them to be pirates, yet would not flee, but prepared to fight, being well armed, and provided. The combat lasted three hours, and then they surrendered. This ship had sixteen guns, and fifty fighting men aboard: they found in her 120,000 weight of cocoa, 40,000 pieces of eight, and the value of 10,000 more in jewels. Lolonois sent the vessel presently to Tortuga to be unladed, with orders to return as soon as possible to Savona, where he would wait for them: meanwhile, the rest of the fleet being arrived at Savona, met another Spanish vessel coming from Coman, with military provisions to Hispaniola, and money to pay the garrisons there. This vessel they also took, without any resistance, though mounted with eight guns. In it were 7,000 weight of powder, a great number of muskets, and like things, with 12,000 pieces of eight. These successes encouraged the pirates, they seeming very lucky beginnings, especially finding their fleet pretty well recruited in a little time: for the first ship arriving at Tortuga, the governor ordered it to be instantly unladen, and soon after sent back, with fresh provisions, and other necessaries, to Lolonois. This ship he chose for himself, and gave that which he commanded to his comrade, Anthony du Puis. Being thus recruited with men in lieu of them he had lost in taking the prizes, and by sickness, he found himself in a good condition to set sail for Maracaibo, in the province of Neuva Venezuela, in the latitude of 12 deg. 10 min. north. This island is twenty leagues long, and twelve broad. To this port also belong the islands of Onega and Monges. The east side thereof is called Cape St. Roman, and the western side Cape of Caquibacoa: the gulf is called, by some, the Gulf of Venezuela, but the pirates usually call it the Bay of Maracaibo. At the entrance of this gulf are two islands extending from east to west; that towards the east is called Isla de las Vigilias, or the Watch Isle; because in the middle is a high hill, on which stands a watch-house. The other is called Isla de la Palomas, or the Isle of Pigeons. Between these two islands runs a little sea, or rather lake of fresh water, sixty leagues long, and thirty broad; which disgorging itself into the ocean, dilates itself about the said two islands. Between them is the best passage for ships, the channel being no broader than the flight of a great gun, of about eight pounds. On the Isle of Pigeons standeth a castle, to impede the entry of vessels, all being necessitated to come very nigh the castle, by reason of two banks of sand on the other side, with only fourteen feet water. Many other banks of sand there are in this lake; as that called El Tablazo, or the Great Table, no deeper than ten feet, forty leagues within the lake; others there are, that have no more than six, seven, or eight feet in depth: all are very dangerous, especially to mariners unacquainted with them. West hereof is the city of Maracaibo, very pleasant to the view, its houses being built along the shore, having delightful prospects all round: the city may contain three or four thousand persons, slaves included, all which make a town of reasonable bigness. There are judged to be about eight hundred persons able to bear arms, all Spaniards. Here are one parish church, well built and adorned, four monasteries, and one hospital. The city is governed by a deputy governor, substituted by the governor of the Caraccas. The trade here exercised is mostly in hides and tobacco. The inhabitants possess great numbers of cattle, and many plantations, which extend thirty leagues in the country, especially towards the great town of Gibraltar, where are gathered great quantities of cocoa-nuts, and all other garden fruits, which serve for the regale and sustenance of the inhabitants of Maracaibo, whose territories are much drier than those of Gibraltar. Hither those of Maracaibo send great quantities of flesh, they making returns in oranges, lemons, and other fruits; for the inhabitants of Gibraltar want flesh, their fields not being capable of feeding cows or sheep. Before Maracaibo is a very spacious and secure port, wherein may be built all sorts of vessels, having great convenience of timber, which may be transported thither at little charge. Nigh the town lies also a small island called Borrica, where they feed great numbers of goats, which cattle the inhabitants use more for their skins than their flesh or milk; they slighting these two, unless while they are tender and young kids. In the fields are fed some sheep, but of a very small size. In some islands of the lake, and in other places hereabouts, are many savage Indians, called by the Spaniards bravoes, or wild: these could never be reduced by the Spaniards, being brutish, and untameable. They dwell mostly towards the west side of the lake, in little huts built on trees growing in the water; so to keep themselves from innumerable mosquitoes, or gnats, which infest and torment them night and day. To the east of the said lake are whole towns of fishermen, who likewise live in huts built on trees, as the former. Another reason of this dwelling, is the frequent inundations; for after great rains, the land is often overflown for two or three leagues, there being no less than twenty-five great rivers that feed this lake. The town of Gibraltar is also frequently drowned by these, so that the inhabitants are constrained to retire to their plantations. Gibraltar, situate at the side of the lake about forty leagues within it, receives its provisions of flesh, as has been said, from Maracaibo. The town is inhabited by about 1,500 persons, whereof four hundred may bear arms; the greatest part of them keep shops, wherein they exercise one trade or another. In the adjacent fields are numerous plantations of sugar and cocoa, in which are many tall and beautiful trees, of whose timber houses may be built, and ships. Among these are many handsome and proportionable cedars, seven or eight feet about, of which they can build boats and ships, so as to bear only one great sail; such vessels being called piraguas. The whole country is well furnished with rivers and brooks, very useful in droughts, being then cut into many little channels to water their fields and plantations. They plant also much tobacco, well esteemed in Europe, and for its goodness is called there tobacco de sacerdotes, or priest's tobacco. They enjoy nigh twenty leagues of jurisdiction, which is bounded by very high mountains perpetually covered with snow. On the other side of these mountains is situate a great city called Merida, to which the town of Gibraltar is subject. All merchandise is carried hence to the aforesaid city on mules, and that but at one season of the year, by reason of the excessive cold in those high mountains. On the said mules returns are made in flour of meal, which comes from towards Peru, by the way of Estaffe. Thus far I thought good to make a short description of the lake of Maracaibo, that my reader might the better comprehend what I shall say concerning the actions of pirates in this place, as follows. Lolonois arriving at the gulf of Venezuela, cast anchor with his whole fleet out of sight of the Vigilia or Watch Isle; next day very early he set sail thence with all his ships for the lake of Maracaibo, where they cast anchor again; then they landed their men, with design to attack first the fortress that commanded the bar, therefore called de la barra. This fort consists only of several great baskets of earth placed on a rising ground, planted with sixteen great guns, with several other heaps of earth round about for covering their men: the pirates having landed a league off this fort, advanced by degrees towards it; but the governor having espied their landing, had placed an ambuscade to cut them off behind, while he should attack them in front. This the pirates discovered, and getting before, they defeated it so entirely, that not a man could retreat to the castle: this done, Lolonois, with his companions, advanced immediately to the fort, and after a fight of almost three hours, with the usual desperation of this sort of people, they became masters thereof, without any other arms than swords and pistols: while they were fighting, those who were the routed ambuscade, not being able to get into the castle, retired into Maracaibo in great confusion and disorder, crying "The pirates will presently be here with two thousand men and more." The city having formerly been taken by this kind of people, and sacked to the uttermost, had still an idea of that misery; so that upon these dismal news they endeavoured to escape towards Gibraltar in their boats and canoes, carrying with them all the goods and money they could. Being come to Gibraltar, they told how the fortress was taken, and nothing had been saved, nor any persons escaped. The castle thus taken by the pirates, they presently signified to the ships their victory, that they should come farther in without fear of danger: the rest of that day was spent in ruining and demolishing the said castle. They nailed the guns, and burnt as much as they could not carry away, burying the dead, and sending on board the fleet the wounded. Next day, very early, they weighed anchor, and steered altogether towards Maracaibo, about six leagues distant from the fort; but the wind failing that day, they could advance little, being forced to expect the tide. Next morning they came in sight of the town, and prepared for landing under the protection of their own guns, fearing the Spaniards might have laid an ambuscade in the woods: they put their men into canoes, brought for that purpose, and landed where they thought most convenient, shooting still furiously with their great guns: of those in the canoes, half only went ashore, the other half remained aboard; they fired from the ships as fast as possible, towards the woody part of the shore, but could discover nobody; then they entered the town, whose inhabitants, as I told you, were retired to the woods, and Gibraltar, with their wives, children, and families. Their houses they left well provided with victuals, as flour, bread, pork, brandy, wines, and poultry, with these the pirates fell to making good cheer, for in four weeks before they had no opportunity of filling their stomachs with such plenty. They instantly possessed themselves of the best houses in the town, and placed sentinels wherever they thought convenient; the great church served them for their main guard. Next day they sent out an hundred and sixty men to find out some of the inhabitants in the woods thereabouts; these returned the same night, bringing with them 20,000 pieces of eight, several mules laden with household goods and merchandise, and twenty prisoners, men, women, and children. Some of these were put to the rack, to make them confess where they had hid the rest of the goods; but they could extort very little from them. Lolonois, who valued not murdering, though in cold blood, ten or twelve Spaniards, drew his cutlass, and hacked one to pieces before the rest, saying, "If you do not confess and declare where you have hid the rest of your goods, I will do the like to all your companions." At last, amongst these horrible cruelties and inhuman threats, one promised to show the place where the rest of the Spaniards were hid; but those that were fled, having intelligence of it, changed place, and buried the remnant of their riches underground, so that the pirates could not find them out, unless some of their own party should reveal them; besides, the Spaniards flying from one place to another every day, and often changing woods, were jealous even of each other, so as the father durst scarce trust his own son. After the pirates had been fifteen days in Maracaibo, they resolved for Gibraltar; but the inhabitants having received intelligence thereof, and that they intended afterwards to go to Merida, gave notice of it to the governor there, who was a valiant soldier, and had been an officer in Flanders. His answer was, "he would have them take no care, for he hoped in a little while to exterminate the said pirates." Whereupon he came to Gibraltar with four hundred men well armed, ordering at the same time the inhabitants to put themselves in arms, so that in all he made eight hundred fighting men. With the same speed he raised a battery toward the sea, mounted with twenty guns, covered with great baskets of earth: another battery he placed in another place, mounted with eight guns. This done, he barricaded a narrow passage to the town through which the pirates must pass, opening at the same time another through much dirt and mud into the wood totally unknown to the pirates. The pirates, ignorant of these preparations, having embarked all their prisoners and booty, took their way towards Gibraltar. Being come in sight of the place, they saw the royal standard hanging forth, and that those of the town designed to defend their houses. Lolonois seeing this, called a council of war what they ought to do, telling his officers and mariners, "That the difficulty of the enterprise was very great, seeing the Spaniards had had so much time to put themselves in a posture of defence, and had got a good body of men together, with much ammunition; but notwithstanding," said he, "have a good courage; we must either defend ourselves like good soldiers, or lose our lives with all the riches we have got. Do as I shall do who am your captain: at other times we have fought with fewer men than we have in our company at present, and yet we have overcome greater numbers than there possibly can be in this town: the more they are, the more glory and the greater riches we shall gain." The pirates supposed that all the riches of the inhabitants of Maracaibo were transported to Gibraltar, or at least the greatest part. After this speech, they all promised to follow, and obey him. Lolonois made answer, "'Tis well; but know ye, withal, that the first man who shall show any fear, or the least apprehension thereof, I will pistol him with my own hands." With this resolution they cast anchor nigh the shore, near three-quarters of a league from the town: next day before sun-rising, they landed three hundred and eighty men well provided, and armed every one with a cutlass, and one or two pistols, and sufficient powder and bullet for thirty charges. Here they all shook hands in testimony of good courage, and began their march, Lolonois speaking thus, "Come, my brethren, follow me, and have good courage." They followed their guide, who, believing he led them well, brought them to the way which the governor had barricaded. Not being able to pass that way, they went to the other newly made in the wood among the mire, which the Spaniards could shoot into at pleasure; but the pirates, full of courage, cut down the branches of trees and threw them on the way, that they might not stick in the dirt. Meanwhile, those of Gibraltar fired with their great guns so furiously, they could scarce hear nor see for the noise and smoke. Being passed the wood, they came on firm ground, where they met with a battery of six guns, which immediately the Spaniards discharged upon them, all loaded with small bullets and pieces of iron; and the Spaniards sallying forth, set upon them with such fury, as caused the pirates to give way, few of them caring to advance towards the fort, many of them being already killed and wounded. This made them go back to seek another way; but the Spaniards having cut down many trees to hinder the passage, they could find none, but were forced to return to that they had left. Here the Spaniards continued to fire as before, nor would they sally out of their batteries to attack them any more. Lolonois and his companions not being able to grimp up the baskets of earth, were compelled to use an old stratagem, wherewith at last they deceived and overcame the Spaniards. Lolonois retired suddenly with all his men, making show as if he fled; hereupon the Spaniards crying out "They flee, they flee, let us follow them," sallied forth with great disorder to the pursuit. Being drawn to some distance from the batteries, which was the pirates only design, they turned upon them unexpectedly with sword in hand, and killed above two hundred men; and thus fighting their way through those who remained, they possessed themselves of the batteries. The Spaniards that remained abroad, giving themselves over for lost, fled to the woods: those in the battery of eight guns surrendered themselves, obtaining quarter for their lives. The pirates being now become masters of the town, pulled down the Spanish colours and set up their own, taking prisoners as many as they could find. These they carried to the great church, where they raised a battery of several great guns, fearing lest the Spaniards that were fled should rally, and come upon them again; but next day, being all fortified, their fears were over. They gathered the dead to bury them, being above five hundred Spaniards, besides the wounded in the town, and those that died of their wounds in the woods. The pirates had also above one hundred and fifty prisoners, and nigh five hundred slaves, many women and children. Of their own companions only forty were killed, and almost eighty wounded, whereof the greatest part died through the bad air, which brought fevers and other illness. They put the slain Spaniards into two great boats, and carrying them a quarter of a league to sea, they sunk the boats; this done, they gathered all the plate, household stuff, and merchandise they could, or thought convenient to carry away. The Spaniards who had anything left had hid it carefully: but the unsatisfied pirates, not contented with the riches they had got, sought for more goods and merchandise, not sparing those who lived in the fields, such as hunters and planters. They had scarce been eighteen days on the place, when the greatest part of the prisoners died for hunger. For in the town were few provisions, especially of flesh, though they had some, but no sufficient quantity of flour of meal, and this the pirates had taken for themselves, as they also took the swine, cows, sheep, and poultry, without allowing any share to the poor prisoners; for these they only provided some small quantity of mules' and asses' flesh; and many who could not eat of that loathsome provision died for hunger, their stomachs not being accustomed to such sustenance. Of the prisoners many also died under the torment they sustained to make them discover their money or jewels; and of these, some had none, nor knew of none, and others denying what they knew, endured such horrible deaths. Finally, after having been in possession of the town four entire weeks, they sent four of the prisoners to the Spaniards that were fled to the woods, demanding of them a ransom for not burning the town. The sum demanded was 10,000 pieces of eight, which if not sent, they threatened to reduce it to ashes. For bringing in this money, they allowed them only two days; but the Spaniards not having been able to gather so punctually such a sum, the pirates fired many parts of the town; whereupon the inhabitants begged them to help quench the fire, and the ransom should be readily paid. The pirates condescended, helping as much as they could to stop the fire; but, notwithstanding all their best endeavours, one part of the town was ruined, especially the church belonging to the monastery was burnt down. After they had received the said sum, they carried aboard all the riches they had got, with a great number of slaves which had not paid the ransom; for all the prisoners had sums of money set upon them, and the slaves were also commanded to be redeemed. Hence they returned to Maracaibo, where being arrived, they found a general consternation in the whole city, to which they sent three or four prisoners to tell the governor and inhabitants, "they should bring them 30,000 pieces of eight aboard their ships, for a ransom of their houses, otherwise they should be sacked anew and burnt." Among these debates a party of pirates came on shore, and carried away the images, pictures, and bells of the great church, aboard the fleet. The Spaniards who were sent to demand the sum aforesaid returned, with orders to make some agreement; who concluded with the pirates to give for their ransom and liberty 20,000 pieces of eight, and five hundred cows, provided that they should commit no farther hostilities, but depart thence presently after payment of money and cattle. The one and the other being delivered, the whole fleet set sail, causing great joy to the inhabitants of Maracaibo, to see themselves quit of them: but three days after they renewed their fears with admiration, seeing the pirates appear again, and re-enter the port with all their ships: but these apprehensions vanished, upon hearing one of the pirate's errand, who came ashore from Lolonois, "to demand a skilful pilot to conduct one of the greatest ships over the dangerous bank that lieth at the very entry of the lake." Which petition, or rather command, was instantly granted. They had now been full two months in those towns, wherein they committed those cruel and insolent actions we have related. Departing thence, they took their course to Hispaniola, and arrived there in eight days, casting anchor in a port called Isla de la Vacca, or Cow Island. This island is inhabited by French bucaniers, who mostly sell the flesh they hunt to pirates and others, who now and then put in there to victual, or trade. Here they unladed their whole cargazon of riches, the usual storehouse of the pirates being commonly under the shelter of the bucaniers. Here they made a dividend of all their prizes and gains, according to the order and degree of every one, as has been mentioned before. Having made an exact calculation of all their plunder, they found in ready money 260,000 pieces of eight: this being divided, every one received for his share in money, as also in silk, linen, and other commodities, to the value of above 100 pieces of eight. Those who had been wounded received their first part, after the rate mentioned before, for the loss of their limbs: then they weighed all the plate uncoined, reckoning ten pieces of eight to a pound; the jewels were prized indifferently, either too high or too low, by reason of their ignorance: this done, every one was put to his oath again, that he had not smuggled anything from the common stock. Hence they proceeded to the dividend of the shares of such as were dead in battle, or otherwise: these shares were given to their friends, to be kept entire for them, and to be delivered in due time to their nearest relations, or their apparent lawful heirs. The whole dividend being finished, they set sail for Tortuga: here they arrived a month after, to the great joy of most of the island; for as to the common pirates, in three weeks they had scarce any money left, having spent it all in things of little value, or lost it at play. Here had arrived, not long before them, two French ships, with wine and brandy, and suchlike commodities; whereby these liquors, at the arrival of the pirates, were indifferent cheap. But this lasted not long, for soon after they were enhanced extremely, a gallon of brandy being sold for four pieces of eight. The governor of the island bought of the pirates the whole cargo of the ship laden with cocoa, giving for that rich commodity scarce the twentieth part of its worth. Thus they made shift to lose and spend the riches they had got, in much less time than they were purchased: the taverns and stews, according to the custom of pirates, got the greatest part; so that, soon after, they were forced to seek more by the same unlawful means they had got the former. CHAPTER VIII _Lolonois makes new preparations to make the city of St. James de Leon; as also that of Nicaragua; where he miserably perishes._ LOLONOIS had got great repute at Tortuga by this last voyage, because he brought home such considerable profit; and now he need take no great care to gather men to serve under him, more coming in voluntarily than he could employ; every one reposing such confidence in his conduct that they judged it very safe to expose themselves, in his company, to the greatest dangers. He resolved therefore a second voyage to the parts of Nicaragua, to pillage there as many towns as he could. Having published his new preparations, he had all his men together at the time, being about seven hundred. Of these he put three hundred aboard the ship he took at Maracaibo, and the rest in five other vessels of lesser burthen; so that they were in all six ships. The first port they went to was Bayaha in Hispaniola, to victual the fleet, and take in provisions; which done, they steered their course to a port called Matamana, on the south side of Cuba, intending to take here all the canoes they could; these coasts being frequented by the fishers of tortoises, who carry them hence to the Havannah. They took as many of them, to the great grief of those miserable people, as they thought necessary; for they had great use for these small bottoms, by reason the port they designed for had not depth enough for ships of any burthen. Hence they took their course towards the cape Gracias à Dios on the continent, in latitude 15 deg. north, one hundred leagues from the Island de los Pinos. Being at sea, they were taken with a sad and tedious calm, and, by the agitation of the waves alone, were thrown into the gulf of Honduras: here they laboured hard in vain to regain what they had lost, both the waters and the winds being contrary; besides, the ship wherein Lolonois was embarked could not follow the rest; and what was worse, they wanted provisions. Hereupon, they were forced to put into the first port they could reach, to revictual: so they entered with their canoes into the river Xagua, inhabited by Indians, whom they totally destroyed, finding great quantities of millet, and many hogs and hens: not contented with which, they determined to remain there till the bad weather was over, and to pillage all the towns and villages along the coast of the gulf. Thus they passed from one place to another, seeking still more provisions, with which they were not sufficiently supplied. Having searched and rifled many villages, where they found no great matter, they came at last to Puerto Cavallo: here the Spaniards have two storehouses to keep the merchandises that are brought from the inner parts of the country, till the arrival of the ships. There was then in the port a Spanish ship of twenty-four guns, and sixteen pedreros or mortar-pieces: this ship was immediately seized by the pirates, and then drawing nigh the shore, they landed, and burnt the two storehouses, with all the rest of the houses there. Many inhabitants likewise they took prisoners, and committed upon them the most inhuman cruelties that ever heathens invented; putting them to the cruellest tortures they could devise. It was the custom of Lolonois, that having tormented persons not confessing, he would instantly cut them in pieces with his hanger, and pull out their tongues, desiring to do so, if possible, to every Spaniard in the world. It often happened that some of these miserable prisoners, being forced by the rack, would promise to discover the places where the fugitive Spaniards lay hid, which not being able afterwards to perform, they were put to more cruel deaths than they who were dead before. The prisoners being all dead but two (whom they reserved to show them what they desired), they marched hence to the town of San Pedro, or St. Peter, ten or twelve leagues from Puerto Cavallo, being three hundred men, whom Lolonois led, leaving behind him Moses van Vin his lieutenant, to govern the rest in his absence. Being come three leagues on their way, they met with a troop of Spaniards, who lay in ambuscade for their coming: these they set upon, with all the courage imaginable, and at last totally defeated. Howbeit, they behaved themselves very manfully at first; but not being able to resist the fury of the pirates, they were forced to give way, and save themselves by flight, leaving many pirates dead in the place, some wounded, and some of their own party maimed, by the way. These Lolonois put to death without mercy, having asked them what questions he thought fit for his purpose. There were still remaining some few prisoners not wounded; these were asked by Lolonois, if any more Spaniards did lie farther on in ambuscade? They answered, there were. Then being brought before him, one by one, he asked if there was no other way to town but that. This he did to avoid if possible those ambuscades. But they all constantly answered him they knew none. Having asked them all, and finding they could show him no other way, Lolonois grew outrageously passionate; so that he drew his cutlass, and with it cut open the breast of one of those poor Spaniards, and pulling out his heart began to bite and gnaw it with his teeth, like a ravenous wolf, saying to the rest, "I will serve you all alike, if you show me not another way." Hereupon, those miserable wretches promised to show him another way, but withal, they told him, it was extremely difficult, and laborious. Thus to satisfy that cruel tyrant, they began to lead him and his army; but finding it not for his purpose as they had told him, he was forced to return to the former way, swearing with great choler and indignation, "Mort Dieu, les Espagnols me le payeront. By God's death, the Spaniards shall pay me for this." Next day he fell into another ambuscade, which he assaulted with such horrible fury, that in less than an hour's time he routed the Spaniards, and killed the greatest part of them. The Spaniards thought by these ambuscades better to destroy the pirates, assaulting them by degrees, and for this reason had posted themselves in several places. At last he met with a third ambuscade, where was placed a party stronger, and more advantageously, than the former: yet notwithstanding, the pirates, by continually throwing little fire-balls in great numbers, for some time, forced this party, as well as the former, to flee, and this with so great loss of men, that before they could reach the town, the greatest part of the Spaniards were either killed or wounded. There was but one path which led to the town, very well barricaded with good defences; and the rest of the town round was planted with shrubs called raqueltes, full of thorns very sharp pointed. This sort of fortification seemed stronger than the triangles used in Europe, when an army is of necessity to pass by the place of an enemy; it being almost impossible for the pirates to traverse those shrubs. The Spaniards posted behind the said defences, seeing the pirates come, began to ply them with their great guns; but these perceiving them ready to fire, used to stoop down, and when the shot was made, to fall upon the defendants with fire-balls and naked swords, killing many of the town: yet notwithstanding, not being able to advance any farther, they retired, for the present: then they renewed the attack with fewer men than before, and observing not to shoot till they were very nigh, they gave the Spaniards a charge so dextrously, that with every shot they killed an enemy. The attack continuing thus eager on both sides till night, the Spaniards were compelled to hang forth a white flag, and desired to come to a parley: the only conditions they required were, "that the pirates should give the inhabitants quarter for two hours." This little time they demanded with intent to carry away and hide as much of their goods and riches as they could, and to fly to some other neighbouring town. Granting this article, they entered the town, and continued there the two hours, without committing the least hostility on the inhabitants; but no sooner was that time past, than Lolonois ordered that the inhabitants should be followed, and robbed of all they had carried away; and not only their goods, but their persons likewise to be made prisoners; though the greatest part of their merchandise and goods were so hid, as the pirates could not find them, except a few leathern sacks, filled with anil, or indigo. Having stayed here a few days, and, according to their custom, committed most horrid insolences, they at last quitted the place, carrying away all they possibly could, and reducing the town to ashes. Being come to the seaside, where they left a party of their own, they found these had been cruising upon the fishermen thereabouts, or who came that way from the river of Guatemala: in this river was also expected a ship from Spain. Finally, they resolved to go toward the islands on the other side of the gulf, there to cleanse and careen their vessels; but they left two canoes before the coast, or rather the mouth of the river of Guatemala, in order to take the ship, which, as I said, was expected from Spain. But their chief intent in going hither was to seek provisions, knowing the tortoises of those places are excellent food. Being arrived, they divided themselves, each party choosing a fit post for that fishery. They undertook to knit nets with the rinds of certain trees called macoa, whereof they make also ropes and cables; so that no vessel can be in need of such things, if they can but find the said trees. There are also many places where they find pitch in so great abundance, that running down the sea-coasts, being melted by the sun, it congeals in the water in great heaps, like small islands. This pitch is not like that of Europe, but resembles, both in colour and shape, that froth of the sea called bitumen; but, in my judgment, this matter is nothing but wax mixed with sand, which stormy weather, and the rolling waves of great rivers hath cast into the sea; for in those parts are great quantities of bees who make their honey in trees, to the bodies of which the honeycomb being fixed, when tempests arise, they are torn away, and by the fury of the winds carried into the sea, as is said. Some naturalists say, that the honey and the wax are separated by the salt water; whence proceeds the good amber. This opinion seems the more probable, because the said amber tastes as wax doth. But to return to my discourse. The pirates made in those islands all the haste they possibly could to equip their vessels, hearing that the Spanish ship was come which they expected. They spent some time cruising on the coasts of Jucatan, where inhabit many Indians, who seek for the said amber in those seas. And I shall here, by the by, make some short remarks on the manner of living of the Indians, and their religion. They have now been above a hundred years under the Spaniards, to whom they performed all manner of services; for whensoever any of them needed a slave or servant, they sent for these to serve them as long as they pleased. By the Spaniards they were initiated in the principles of the Christian faith and religion, and they sent them every Sunday and holiday a priest to perform divine service among them; afterwards, for reasons not known, but certainly through temptations of the father of idolatry, the devil, they suddenly cast off the Christian religion, abusing the priest that was sent them: this provoked the Spaniards to punish them, by casting many of the chiefs into prison. Every one of those barbarians had, and hath still, a god to himself, whom he serves and worships. It is a matter of admiration, how they use a child newly born: as soon as it comes into the world, they carry it to the temple; here they make a hole, which they fill with ashes only, on which they place the child naked, leaving it there a whole night alone, not without great danger, nobody daring to come near it; meanwhile the temple is open on all sides, that all sorts of beasts may freely come in and out. Next day, the father, and relations of the infant, return to see if the track or step of any animal appears in the ashes: not finding any, they leave the child there till some beast has approached the infant, and left behind him the marks of his feet: to this animal, whatsoever it be, they consecrate the creature newly born, as to its god, which he is bound to worship all his life, esteeming the said beast his patron and protector. They offer to their gods sacrifices of fire, wherein they burn a certain gum called by them copal, whose smoke smells very deliciously. When the infant is grown up, the parents thereof tell him who he ought to worship, and serve, and honour as his own proper god. Then he goes to the temple, where he makes offerings to the said beast. Afterwards, if in the course of his life, any one injure him, or any evil happen to him, he complains to that beast, and sacrifices to it for revenge. Hence it often comes, that those who have done the injury of which he complains are bitten, killed, or otherwise hurt by such animals. After this superstitious and idolatrous manner live those miserable and ignorant Indians that inhabit the islands of the gulf of Honduras; as also many of them on the continent of Jucatan, in the territories whereof are most excellent ports, where those Indians most commonly build their houses. These people are not very faithful to one another, and use strange ceremonies at their marriages. Whensoever any one pretends to marry a young damsel, he first applies himself to her father or nearest relation: he examines him nicely about the manner of cultivating their plantations, and other things at his pleasure. Having satisfied the questions of his father-in-law, he gives the young man a bow and arrow, with which he repairs to the young maid, and presents her with a garland of green leaves and sweet-smelling flowers; this she is obliged to put on her head, and lay aside that which she wore before, it being the custom for virgins to go perpetually crowned with flowers. This garland being received, and put on her head, every one of the relations and friends go to advise with others whether that marriage will be like to be happy or not; then they meet at the house of the damsel's father, where they drink of a liquor made of maize, or Indian wheat; and here, before the whole company, the father gives his daughter in marriage to the bridegroom. Next day the bride comes to her mother, and in her presence pulls off the garland, and tears it in pieces, with great cries and lamentations. Many other things I could relate of the manner of living and customs of those Indians, but I shall follow my discourse. Our pirates therefore had many canoes of the Indians in the isle of Sambale, five leagues from the coasts of Jucatan. Here is great quantity of amber, but especially when any storm arises from towards the east; whence the waves bring many things, and very different. Through this sea no vessels can pass, unless very small, it being too shallow. In the lands that are surrounded by this sea, is found much Campechy wood, and other things that serve for dyeing, much esteemed in Europe, and would be more, if we had the skill of the Indians, who make a dye or tincture that never fades. [Illustration: "'THEY BOARDED THE SHIP WITH GREAT AGILITY'"--_Page 92_] The pirates having been in that gulf three months, and receiving advice that the Spanish ship was come, hastened to the port where the ship lay at anchor unlading her merchandise, with design to assault her as soon as possible; but first they thought convenient to send away some of their boats to seek for a small vessel also expected very richly laden with plate, indigo, and cochineal. Meanwhile, the ship's crew having notice that the pirates designed upon them, prepared all things for a good defence, being mounted with forty-two guns, well furnished with arms and other necessaries, and one hundred and thirty fighting men. To Lolonois all this seemed but little, for he assaulted her with great courage, his own ship carrying but twenty-two guns, and having no more than a small saety or fly-boat for help: but the Spaniards defended themselves so well, as they forced the pirates to retire; but the smoke of the powder continuing thick, as a dark fog or mist, with four canoes well manned, they boarded the ship with great agility, and forced the Spaniards to surrender. The ship being taken, they found not in her what they thought, being already almost unladen. All they got was only fifty bars of iron, a small parcel of paper, some earthen jars of wine, and other things of small importance. Then Lolonois called a council of war, and told them, he intended for Guatemala: hereupon they divided into several sentiments, some liking the proposal, and others disliking it, especially a party of them who were but raw in those exercises, and who imagined at their setting forth from Tortuga that pieces of eight were gathered as easy as pears from a tree; but finding most things contrary to their expectation, they quitted the fleet, and returned; others affirmed they had rather starve than return home without a great deal of money. But the major part judging the propounded voyage little to their purpose, separated from Lolonois and the rest: of these one Moses Vanclein was ringleader, captain of the ship taken at Puerto Cavallo: this fellow steered for Tortuga, to cruise to and fro in these seas. With him joined another comrade of his, by name Pierre le Picard, who seeing the rest leave Lolonois, thought fit to do the same. These runaways having thus parted company, steered homewards, coasting along the continent till they came to Costa Rica; here they landed a strong party nigh the river Veraguas, and marched in good order to the town of the same name: this they took and totally pillaged, though the Spaniards made a strong resistance. They brought away some of the inhabitants as prisoners, with all they had, which was of no great importance, by reason of the poverty of the place, which exerciseth no other trade than working in the mines, where some of the inhabitants constantly attend, while none seek for gold, but only slaves. These they compel to dig and wash the earth in the neighbouring rivers, where often they find pieces of gold as big as peas. The pirates gaining in this adventure but seven or eight pounds weight of gold, they returned, giving over the design to go to the town of Nata, situate on the coasts of the South Sea, whose inhabitants are rich merchants, and their slaves work in the mines of Veraguas; being deterred by the multitudes of Spaniards gathered on all sides to fall upon them, whereof they had timely advice. Lolonois, thus left by his companions, remained alone in the gulf of Honduras. His ship being too great to get out at the reflux of those seas, there he sustained great want of provisions, so as they were constrained to go ashore every day to seek sustenance, and not finding anything else, they were forced to kill and eat monkeys, and other animals, such as they could find. At last in the altitude of the cape of Gracias a Dios, near a certain little island called De las Pertas, his ship struck on a bank of sand, where it stuck so fast, as no art could get her off again, though they unladed all the guns, iron, and other weighty things as much as they could. Hereupon they were forced to break the ship in pieces, and with planks and nails build themselves a boat to get away; and while they are busy about it, I shall describe the said isles and their inhabitants. The islands De las Pertas are inhabited by savage Indians, not having known or conversed with civil people: they are tall and very nimble, running almost as fast as horses; at diving also they are very dextrous and hardy. From the bottom of the sea I saw them take up an anchor of six hundredweight, tying a cable to it with great dexterity, and pulling it from a rock. Their arms are made of wood, without any iron point; but some instead thereof use a crocodile's tooth. They have no bows nor arrows, as the other Indians have, but their common weapon is a sort of lance a fathom and a half long. Here are many plantations surrounded with woods, whence they gather abundance of fruits, as potatoes, bananas, racoven, ananas, and many others. They have no houses to dwell in, as at other places in the Indies. Some say they eat human flesh, which is confirmed by what happened when Lolonois was there. Two of his companions, one a Frenchman and the other a Spaniard, went into the woods, where having straggled awhile, a troop of Indians pursued them. They defended themselves as well as they could with their swords, but at last were forced to flee. The nimble Frenchman escaped; but the Spaniard being not so swift, was taken and heard of no more. Some days after, twelve pirates set forth well armed to seek their companion, among whom was the Frenchman, who conducted them, and showed them the place where he left him; here they found that the Indians had kindled a fire, and at a small distance they found a man's bones well roasted, with some pieces of flesh ill scraped off the bones, and one hand, which had only two fingers remaining, whence they concluded they had roasted the poor Spaniard. They marched on, seeking for Indians, and found a great number together, who endeavoured to escape, but they overtook some of them, and brought aboard their ships five men and four women; with these they took much pains to make themselves be understood, and to gain their affections, giving them trifles, as knives, beads, and the like; they gave them also victuals and drink, but nothing would they taste. It was also observable, that while they were prisoners, they spoke not one word to each other; so that seeing these poor Indians were much afraid, they presented them again with some small things, and let them go. When they parted, they made signs they would come again, but they soon forgot their benefactors, and were never heard of more; neither could any notice afterwards be had of these Indians, nor any others in the whole island, which made the pirates suspect that both those that were taken, and all the rest of the islanders, swam away by night to some little neighbouring islands, especially considering they could never set eyes on any Indian more, nor any boat or other vessel. Meanwhile the pirates were very desirous to see their long-boat finished out of the timber that struck on the sands; yet considering their work would be long, they began to cultivate some pieces of ground; here they sowed French beans, which ripened in six weeks, and many other fruits. They had good provision of Spanish wheat, bananas, racoven, and other things; with the wheat they made bread, and baked it in portable ovens, brought with them. Thus they feared not hunger in those desert places, employing themselves thus for five or six months; which past, and the long-boat finished, they resolved for the river of Nicaragua, to see if they could take some canoes, and return to the said islands for their companions that remained behind, by reason the boat could not hold so many men together; hereupon, to avoid disputes, they cast lots, determining who should go or stay. [Illustration: "'LOLONOIS, WITH THOSE THAT REMAINED, HAD MUCH ADO TO ESCAPE ABOARD THEIR BOATS'"--_Page 97_] The lot fell on one half of the people of the lost vessel, who embarked in the long-boat, and on the skiff which they had before, the other half remaining ashore. Lolonois having set sail, arrived in a few days at the river of Nicaragua: here that ill-fortune assailed him which of long time had been reserved for him, as a punishment due to the multitude of horrible crimes committed in his licentious and wicked life. Here he met with both Spaniards and Indians, who jointly setting upon him and his companions, the greatest part of the pirates were killed on the place. Lolonois, with those that remained alive, had much ado to escape aboard their boats: yet notwithstanding this great loss, he resolved not to return to those he had left at the isle of Pertas, without taking some boats, such as he looked for. To this effect he determined to go on to the coasts of Carthagena; but God Almighty, the time of His Divine justice being now come, had appointed the Indians of Darien to be the instruments and executioners thereof. These Indians of Darien are esteemed as bravoes, or wild savage Indians, by the neighbouring Spaniards, who never could civilize them. Hither Lolonois came (brought by his evil conscience that cried for punishment), thinking to act his cruelties; but the Indians within a few days after his arrival took him prisoner, and tore him in pieces alive, throwing his body limb by limb into the fire, and his ashes into the air, that no trace or memory might remain of such an infamous, inhuman creature. One of his companions gave me an exact account of this tragedy, affirming that himself had escaped the same punishment with the greatest difficulty; he believed also that many of his comrades, who were taken in that encounter by those Indians, were, as their cruel captain, torn in pieces and burnt alive. Thus ends the history, the life, and miserable death of that infernal wretch Lolonois, who full of horrid, execrable, and enormous deeds, and debtor to so much innocent blood, died by cruel and butcherly hands, such as his own were in the course of his life. Those that remained in the island De las Pertas, waiting for the return of them who got away only to their great misfortune, hearing no news of their captain nor companions, at last embarked on the ship of a certain pirate, who happened to pass that way. This fellow came from Jamaica, with intent to land at Gracias a Dios, and from thence to enter the river with his canoes, and take the city of Carthagena. These two crews of pirates being now joined, were infinitely glad at the presence and society of one another. Those, because they found themselves delivered from their miseries, poverty, and necessities, wherein they had lived ten entire months. These, because they were now considerably strengthened, to effect with greater satisfaction their designs. Hereupon, as soon as they were arrived at Gracias a Dios, they all put themselves into canoes, and entered the river, being five hundred men, leaving only five or six persons in each ship to keep them. They took no provisions, being persuaded they should find everywhere sufficient; but these their hopes were found totally vain, not being grounded on Almighty God; for He ordained it so, that the Indians, aware of their coming, all fled, not leaving in their houses or plantations, which for the most part border on the sides of rivers, any necessary provisions or victuals: hereby, in a few days after they had quitted their ships, they were reduced to most extreme necessity and hunger; but their hopes of making their fortunes very soon, animating them for the present, they contented themselves with a few green herbs, such as they could gather on the banks of the river. Yet all this courage and vigour lasted but a fortnight, when their hearts, as well as bodies, began to fail for hunger; insomuch as they were forced to quit the river, and betake themselves to the woods, seeking out some villages where they might find relief, but all in vain; for having ranged up and down the woods for some days, without finding the least comfort, they were forced to return to the river, where being come, they thought convenient to descend to the sea-coast where they had left their ships, not having been able to find what they sought for. In this laborious journey they were reduced to such extremity, that many of them devoured their own shoes, the sheaths of their swords, knives, and other such things, being almost ravenous, and eager to meet some Indians, intending to sacrifice them to their teeth. At last they arrived at the sea-coast, where they found some comfort and relief to their former miseries, and also means to seek more: yet the greatest part perished through faintness and other diseases contracted by hunger, which also caused the remaining part to disperse, till at last, by degrees, many or most of them fell into the same pit that Lolonois did; of whom, and of whose companions, having given a compendious narrative, I shall continue with the actions and exploits of Captain Henry Morgan, who may deservedly be called the second Lolonois, not being unlike or inferior to him, either in achievements against the Spaniards, or in robberies of many innocent people. CHAPTER IX _The origin and descent of Captain Henry Morgan--His exploits, and the most remarkable actions of his life._ CAPTAIN HENRY MORGAN was born in Great Britain, in the principality of Wales; his father was a rich yeoman, or farmer, of good quality, even as most who bear that name in Wales are known to be. Morgan, when young, had no inclination to the calling of his father, and therefore left his country, and came towards the sea-coasts to seek some other employment more suitable to his aspiring humour; where he found several ships at anchor, bound for Barbadoes. With these he resolved to go in the service of one, who, according to the practice of those parts, sold him as soon as he came ashore. He served his time at Barbadoes, and obtaining his liberty, betook himself to Jamaica, there to seek new fortunes: here he found two vessels of pirates ready to go to sea; and being destitute of employment, he went with them, with intent to follow the exercises of that sort of people: he soon learned their manner of living, so exactly, that having performed three or four voyages with profit and success, he agreed with some of his comrades, who had got by the same voyages a little money, to join stocks, and buy a ship. The vessel being bought, they unanimously chose him captain and commander. With this ship he set forth from Jamaica to cruise on the coasts of Campechy, in which voyage he took several ships, with which he returned triumphant. Here he found an old pirate, named Mansvelt (whom we have already mentioned), busied in equipping a considerable fleet, with design to land on the continent, and pillage whatever he could. Mansvelt seeing Captain Morgan return with so many prizes, judged him to be a man of courage, and chose him for his vice-admiral in that expedition: thus having fitted out fifteen ships, great and small, they sailed from Jamaica with five hundred men, Walloons and French. This fleet arrived, not long after, at the isle of St. Catherine, near the continent of Costa Rica, latitude 12 deg. 30 min. and distant thirty-five leagues from the river Chagre. Here they made their first descent, landing most of their men, who soon forced the garrison that kept the island to surrender all the forts and castles thereof; which they instantly demolished, except one, wherein they placed a hundred men of their own party, and all the slaves they had taken from the Spaniards: with the rest of their men they marched to another small island, so near St. Catherine's, that with a bridge they made in a few days, they passed thither, taking with them all the ordnance they had taken on the great island. Having ruined with fire and sword both the islands, leaving necessary orders at the said castle, they put to sea again, with their Spanish prisoners; yet these they set ashore not long after, on the firm land, near Puerto Velo: then they cruised on Costa Rica, till they came to the river Colla, designing to pillage all the towns in those parts, thence to pass to the village of Nata, to do the same. The governor of Panama, on advice of their arrival, and of the hostilities they committed, thought it his duty to meet them with a body of men. His coming caused the pirates to retire suddenly, seeing the whole country was alarmed, and that their designs were known, and consequently defeated at that time. Hereupon, they returned to St. Catherine's, to visit the hundred men they left in garrison there. The governor of these men was a Frenchman, named Le Sieur Simon, who behaved himself very well in that charge, while Mansvelt was absent, having put the great island in a very good posture of defence, and the little one he had caused to be cultivated with many fertile plantations, sufficient to revictual the whole fleet, not only for the present, but also for a new voyage. Mansvelt was very much bent to keep the two islands in perpetual possession, being very commodiously situated for the pirates; being so near the Spanish dominions, and easily defended. Hereupon, Mansvelt determined to return to Jamaica, to send recruits to St. Catherine's, that in case of an invasion the pirates might be provided for a defence. As soon as he arrived, he propounded his intentions to the governor there, who rejected his propositions, fearing to displease his master, the king of England; besides, that giving him the men he desired, and necessaries, he must of necessity diminish the forces of that island, whereof he was governor. Hereupon, Mansvelt, knowing that of himself he could not compass his designs, he went to Tortuga; but there, before he could put in execution what was intended, death surprised him, and put a period to his wicked life, leaving all things in suspense till the occasion I shall hereafter relate. Le Sieur Simon, governor of St. Catherine's, receiving no news from Mansvelt, his admiral, was impatiently desirous to know the cause thereof: meanwhile, Don John Perez de Guzman, being newly come to the government of Costa Rica, thought it not convenient for the interest of Spain for that island to be in the hands of the pirates: hereupon, he equipped a considerable fleet, which he sent to retake it; but before he used violence, he writ a letter to Le Sieur Simon, telling him, that if he would surrender the island to his Catholic Majesty, he should be very well rewarded; but, in case of refusal, severely punished, when he had forced him to do it. Le Sieur Simon, seeing no probability of being able to defend it alone, nor any emolument that by so doing could accrue either to him, or his people, after some small resistance delivered it up to its true lord and master, under the same articles they had obtained it from the Spaniards; a few days after which surrender, there arrived from Jamaica an English ship, which the governor there had sent underhand, with a good supply of people, both men and women: the Spaniards from the castle having espied the ship, put forth English colours, and persuaded Le Sieur Simon to go aboard, and conduct the ship into a port they assigned him. This he performed and they were all made prisoners. A certain Spanish engineer has published in print an exact relation of the retaking of this isle by the Spaniards, which I have thought fit to insert here:-- _A true relation, and particular account of the victory obtained by the arms of his Catholic Majesty against the English pirates, by the direction and valour of Don John Perez de Guzman, knight of the order of St. James, governor and captain-general of Terra Firma, and the Province of Veraguas._ THE kingdom of Terra Firma, which of itself is sufficiently strong to repel and destroy great fleets, especially the pirates of Jamaica, had several ways notice imparted to the governor thereof, that fourteen English vessels cruised on the coasts belonging to his Catholic Majesty. July 14, 1665, news came to Panama, that they were arrived at Puerto de Naos, and had forced the Spanish garrison of the isle of St. Catherine, whose governor was Don Estevan del Campo, and possessed themselves of the said island, taking prisoners the inhabitants, and destroying all that they met. About the same time, Don John Perez de Guzman received particular information of these robberies from some Spaniards who escaped out of the island (and whom he ordered to be conveyed to Puerto Velo), that the said pirates came into the island May 2, by night, without being perceived; and that the next day, after some skirmishes, they took the fortresses, and made prisoners all the inhabitants and soldiers that could not escape. Upon this, Don John called a council of war, wherein he declared the great progress the said pirates had made in the dominions of his Catholic Majesty; and propounded "that it was absolutely necessary to send some forces to the isle of St. Catherine, sufficient to retake it from the pirates, the honour and interest of his Majesty of Spain being very narrowly concerned herein; otherwise the pirates by such conquests might easily, in course of time, possess themselves of all the countries thereabouts." To this some made answer, "that the pirates, not being able to subsist in the said island, would of necessity consume and waste themselves, and be forced to quit it, without any necessity of retaking it: that consequently it was not worth the while to engage in so many expenses and troubles as this would cost." Notwithstanding which, Don John being an expert and valiant soldier, ordered that provisions should be conveyed to Puerto Velo for the use of the militia, and transported himself thither, with no small danger of his life. Here he arrived July 2, with most things necessary to the expedition in hand, where he found in the port a good ship, and well mounted, called the _St. Vincent_, that belonged to the company of the negroes, which he manned and victualled very well, and sent to the isle of St. Catherine, constituting Captain Joseph Sanchez Ximenez, major of Puerto Velo, commander thereof. He carried with him two hundred and seventy soldiers, and thirty-seven prisoners of the same island, besides thirty-four Spaniards of the garrison of Puerto Velo, twenty-nine mulattoes of Panama, twelve Indians, very dextrous at shooting with bows and arrows, seven expert and able gunners, two lieutenants, two pilots, one surgeon, and one priest, of the order of St. Francis, for their chaplain. Don John soon after gave orders to all the officers how to behave themselves, telling them that the governor of Carthagena would supply them with more men, boats, and all things else, necessary for that enterprise; to which effect he had already written to the said governor. July 24, Don John setting sail with a fair wind, he called before him all his people, and made them a speech, encouraging them to fight against the enemies of their country and religion, and especially against those inhuman pirates, who had committed so many horrid cruelties upon the subjects of his Catholic Majesty; withal, promising every one most liberal rewards, especially to such as should behave themselves well in the service of their king and country. Thus Don John bid them farewell, and the ship set sail under a favourable gale. The 22nd they arrived at Carthagena, and presented a letter to the governor thereof, from the noble and valiant Don John, who received it with testimonies of great affection to the person of Don John, and his Majesty's service: and seeing their resolution to be comfortable to his desires, he promised them his assistance, with one frigate, one galleon, one boat, and one hundred and twenty-six men; one half out of his own garrison, and the other half mulattoes. Thus being well provided with necessaries, they left the port of Carthagena, August 2, and the 10th they arrived in sight of St. Catherine's towards the western point thereof; and though the wind was contrary, yet they reached the port, and anchored within it, having lost one of their boats by foul weather, at the rock called Quita Signos. The pirates, seeing our ships come to an anchor, gave them presently three guns with bullets, which were soon answered in the same coin. Hereupon, Major Joseph Sanchez Ximenez sent ashore to the pirates one of his officers to require them, in the name of the Catholic King his master, to surrender the island, seeing they had taken it in the midst of peace between the two crowns of Spain and England; and that if they would be obstinate, he would certainly put them all to the sword. The pirates made answer, that the island had once before belonged unto the government and dominions of the king of England, and that instead of surrendering it, they preferred to lose their lives. On Friday the 13th, three negroes, from the enemy, came swimming aboard our admiral; these brought intelligence that all the pirates upon the island were only seventy-two in number, and that they were under a great consternation, seeing such considerable forces come against them. With this intelligence, the Spaniards resolved to land, and advance towards the fortresses, which ceased not to fire as many great guns against them as they possibly could; which were answered in the same manner on our side, till dark night. On Sunday, the 15th, the day of the Assumption of our Lady, the weather being very calm and clear, the Spaniards began to advance thus: The ship _St. Vincent_, riding admiral, discharged two whole broadsides on the battery called the Conception; the ship _St. Peter_, that was vice-admiral, discharged likewise her guns against the other battery named St. James: meanwhile, our people landed in small boats, directing their course towards the point of the battery last mentioned, and thence they marched towards the gate called Cortadura. Lieutenant Francis de Cazeres, being desirous to view the strength of the enemy, with only fifteen men, was compelled to retreat in haste, by reason of the great guns, which played so furiously on the place where he stood; they shooting, not only pieces of iron, and small bullets, but also the organs of the church, discharging in every shot threescore pipes at a time. Notwithstanding this heat of the enemy, Captain Don Joseph Ramirez de Leyva, with sixty men, made a strong attack, wherein they fought on both sides very desperately, till at last he overcame, and forced the pirates to surrender the fort. On the other side, Captain John Galeno, with ninety men, passed over the hills, to advance that way towards the castle of St. Teresa. Meanwhile Major Don Joseph Sanchez Ximenes, as commander-in-chief, with the rest of his men, set forth from the battery of St. James, passing the port with four boats, and landing, in despite of the enemy. About this same time, Captain John Galeno began to advance with the men he led to the forementioned fortress; so that our men made three attacks on three several sides, at one and the same time, with great courage; till the pirates seeing many of their men already killed, and that they could in no manner subsist any longer, retreated towards Cortadura, where they surrendered, themselves and the whole island, into our hands. Our people possessed themselves of all, and set up the Spanish colours, as soon as they had rendered thanks to God Almighty for the victory obtained on such a signalized day. The number of dead were six men of the enemies, with many wounded, and seventy prisoners: on our side was only one man killed, and four wounded. There were found on the island eight hundred pounds of powder, two hundred and fifty pounds of small bullets, with many other military provisions. Among the prisoners were taken also, two Spaniards, who had bore arms under the English against his Catholic Majesty: these were shot to death the next day, by order of the major. The 10th day of September arrived at the isle an English vessel, which being seen at a great distance by the major, he ordered Le Sieur Simon, who was a Frenchman, to go and visit the said ship, and tell them that were on board, that the island belonged still to the English. He performed the command, and found in the said ship only fourteen men, one woman and her daughter, who were all instantly made prisoners. The English pirates were all transported to Puerto Velo, excepting three, who by order of the governor were carried to Panama, there to work in the castle of St. Jerom. This fortification is an excellent piece of workmanship, and very strong, being raised in the middle of the port of a quadrangular form, and of very hard stone: its height is eighty-eight geometrical feet, the wall being fourteen, and the curtains seventy-five feet diameter. It was built at the expense of several private persons, the governor of the city furnishing the greatest part of the money; so that it cost his Majesty nothing. CHAPTER X _Of the Island of Cuba--Captain Morgan attempts to preserve the Isle of St. Catherine as a refuge to the nest of pirates, but fails of his design--He arrives at and takes the village of El Puerto del Principe._ CAPTAIN MORGAN seeing his predecessor and admiral Mansvelt were dead, used all the means that were possible, to keep in possession the isle of St. Catherine, seated near Cuba. His chief intent was to make it a refuge and sanctuary to the pirates of those parts, putting it in a condition of being a convenient receptacle of their preys and robberies. To this effect he left no stone unmoved, writing to several merchants in Virginia and New England, persuading them to send him provisions and necessaries, towards putting the said island in such a posture of defence, as to fear no danger of invasion from any side. But all this proved ineffectual, by the Spaniards retaking the said island: yet Captain Morgan retained his courage, which put him on new designs. First, he equipped a ship, in order to gather a fleet as great, and as strong as he could. By degrees he effected it, and gave orders to every member of his fleet to meet at a certain port of Cuba, there determining to call a council, and deliberate what was best to be done, and what place first to fall upon. Leaving these preparations in this condition, I shall give my reader some small account of the said isle of Cuba, in whose port this expedition was hatched, seeing I omitted to do it in its proper place. Cuba lies from east to west, in north latitude, from 20 to 23 deg. in length one hundred and fifty German leagues, and about forty in breadth. Its fertility is equal to that of Hispaniola; besides which, it affords many things proper for trading and commerce; such as hides of several beasts, particularly those that in Europe are called hides of Havanna. On all sides it is surrounded with many small islands, called the Cayos: these little islands the pirates use as ports of refuge. Here they have their meetings, and hold their councils, how best to assault the Spaniards. It is watered on all sides with plentiful and pleasant rivers, whose entries form both secure and spacious ports; beside many other harbours for ships, which along the calm shores and coasts adorn this rich and beautiful island; all which contribute much to its happiness, by facilitating trade, whereto they invited both natives and aliens. The chief of these ports are San Jago, Byame, Santa Maria, Espiritu Santo, Trinidad, Zagoa, Cabo de Corientes, and others, on the south side of the island: on the north side are, La Havanna, Puerto Mariano, Santa Cruz, Mata Ricos, and Barracoa. This island hath two chief cities, to which all the towns and villages thereof give obedience. The first is Santa Jago, or St. James, seated on the south side, and having under its jurisdiction one half of the island. The chief magistrates hereof are a bishop and a governor, who command the villages and towns of the said half. The chief of these are, on the south side, Espiritu Santo, Puerto del Principe, and Bayame. On the north it has Barracoa, and De los Cayos. The greatest part of the commerce driven here comes from the Canaries, whither they transport much tobacco, sugar, and hides, which sort of merchandise are drawn to the head city from the subordinate towns and villages. Formerly the city of Santa Jago was miserably sacked by the pirates of Jamaica and Tortuga, though it is defended by a considerable castle. [Illustration: "CAPTAIN MORGAN RECRUITING HIS FORCES"--_Page 115_] The city and port De la Havanna lies between the north and west side of the island: this is one of the strongest places of the West Indies; its jurisdiction extends over the other half of the island; the chief places under it being Santa Cruz on the north side, and La Trinidad on the south. Hence is transported huge quantities of tobacco, which is sent to New Spain and Costa Rica, even as far as the South Sea, besides many ships laden with this commodity, that are consigned to Spain and other parts of Europe, not only in the leaf, but in rolls. This city is defended by three castles, very great and strong, two of which lie towards the port, and the other is seated on a hill that commands the town. It is esteemed to contain about ten thousand families. The merchants of this place trade in New Spain, Campechy, Honduras, and Florida. All ships that come from the parts before mentioned, as also from Caraccas, Carthagena and Costa Rica, are necessitated to take their provisions in at Havanna to make their voyage for Spain; this being the necessary and straight course they must steer for the south of Europe, and other parts. The plate-fleet of Spain, which the Spaniards call Flota, being homeward bound, touches here yearly to complete their cargo with hides, tobacco, and Campechy wood. Captain Morgan had been but two months in these ports of the south of Cuba, when he had got together a fleet of twelve sail, between ships and great boats, with seven hundred fighting men, part English and part French. They called a council, and some advised to assault the city of Havanna in the night, which they said might easily be done, if they could but take any of the ecclesiastics; yea, that the city might be sacked before the castles could put themselves in a posture of defence. Others propounded, according to their several opinions, other attempts; but the former proposal was rejected, because many of the pirates, who had been prisoners at other times in the said city, affirmed nothing of consequence could be done with less than one thousand five hundred men. Moreover, that with all these people, they ought first go to the island De los Pinos, and land them in small boats about Matamona, fourteen leagues from the said city, whereby to accomplish their designs. Finally, they saw no possibility of gathering so great a fleet, and hereupon, with what they had, they concluded to attempt some other place. Among the rest, one propounded they should assault the town of El Puerto del Principe. This proposition he persuaded to, by saying he knew that place very well, and that being at a distance from sea, it never was sacked by any pirates, whereby the inhabitants were rich, exercising their trade by ready money, with those of Havanna who kept here an established commerce, chiefly in hides. This proposal was presently admitted by Captain Morgan, and the chief of his companions. Hereupon they ordered every captain to weigh anchor and set sail, steering towards that coast nearest to El Puerto del Principe. Here is a bay named by the Spaniards El Puerto de Santa Maria: being arrived at this bay, a Spaniard, who was prisoner aboard the fleet, swam ashore by night to the town of El Puerto del Principe, giving an account to the inhabitants of the design of the pirates, which he overheard in their discourse, while they thought he did not understand English. The Spaniards upon this advice began to hide their riches, and carry away their movables; the governor immediately raised all the people of the town, freemen and slaves, and with part of them took a post by which of necessity the pirates must pass, and commanded many trees to be cut down and laid cross the ways to hinder their passage, placing several ambuscades strengthened with some pieces of cannon to play upon them on their march. He gathered in all about eight hundred men, of which detaching part into the said ambuscades, with the rest he begirt the town, drawing them up in a spacious field, whence they could see the coming of the pirates at length. Captain Morgan, with his men, now on the march, found the avenues to the town unpassable; hereupon they took their way through the wood, traversing it with great difficulty, whereby they escaped divers ambuscades; at last they came to the plain, from its figure called by the Spaniards La Savanna, or the Sheet. The governor seeing them come, detached a troop of horse to charge them in the front, thinking to disperse them, and to pursue them with his main body: but this design succeeded not, for the pirates marched in very good order, at the sound of their drums, and with flying colours; coming near the horse they drew into a semicircle, and so advanced towards the Spaniards, who charged them valiantly for a while; but the pirates being very dextrous at their arms, and their governor, with many of their companions, being killed, they retreated towards the wood, to save themselves with more advantage; but before they could reach it, most of them were unfortunately killed by the pirates. Thus they left the victory to these new-come enemies, who had no considerable loss of men in the battle, and but very few wounded. The skirmish lasted four hours: they entered the town not without great resistance of such as were within, who defended themselves as long as possible, and many seeing the enemy in the town, shut themselves up in their own houses, and thence made several shots upon the pirates; who thereupon threatened them, saying, "If you surrender not voluntarily, you shall soon see the town in a flame, and your wives and children torn to pieces before your faces." Upon these menaces the Spaniards submitted to the discretion of the pirates, believing they could not continue there long. As soon as the pirates had possessed themselves of the town, they enclosed all the Spaniards, men, women, children, and slaves, in several churches, and pillaged all the goods they could find; then they searched the country round about, bringing in daily many goods and prisoners, with much provision. With this they fell to making great cheer, after their old custom, without remembering the poor prisoners, whom they let starve in the churches, though they tormented them daily and inhumanly to make them confess where they had hid their goods, money, &c., though little or nothing was left them, not sparing the women and little children, giving them nothing to eat, whereby the greatest part perished. Pillage and provisions growing scarce, they thought convenient to depart and seek new fortunes in other places; they told the prisoners, "they should find money to ransom themselves, else they should be all transported to Jamaica; and beside, if they did not pay a second ransom for the town, they would turn every house into ashes." The Spaniards hereupon nominated among themselves four fellow-prisoners to go and seek for the above-mentioned contributions; but the pirates, to the intent that they should return speedily with those ransoms, tormented several cruelly in their presence, before they departed. After a few days, the Spaniards returned, telling Captain Morgan, "We have ran up and down, and searched all the neighbouring woods and places we most suspected, and yet have not been able to find any of our own party, nor consequently any fruit of our embassy; but if you are pleased to have a little longer patience with us, we shall certainly cause all that you demand to be paid within fifteen days;" which Captain Morgan granted. But not long after, there came into the town seven or eight pirates who had been ranging in the woods and fields, and got considerable booty. These brought amongst other prisoners, a negro, whom they had taken with letters. Captain Morgan having perused them, found that they were from the governor of Santa Jago, being written to some of the prisoners, wherein he told them, "they should not make too much haste to pay any ransom for their town or persons, or any other pretext; but on the contrary, they should put off the pirates as well as they could with excuses and delays, expecting to be relieved by him in a short time, when he would certainly come to their aid." Upon this intelligence Captain Morgan immediately ordered all their plunder to be carried aboard; and withal, he told the Spaniards, that the very next day they should pay their ransoms, for he would not wait a moment longer, but reduce the whole town to ashes, if they failed of the sum he demanded. [Illustration: "'BEING COME TO THE PLACE OF DUEL, THE ENGLISHMAN STABBED THE FRENCHMAN IN THE BACK'"--_Page 121_] With this intimation, Captain Morgan made no mention to the Spaniards of the letters he had intercepted. They answered, "that it was impossible for them to give such a sum of money in so short a space of time, seeing their fellow-townsmen were not to be found in all the country thereabouts." Captain Morgan knew full well their intentions, but thought it not convenient to stay there any longer, demanding of them only five hundred oxen or cows, with sufficient salt to powder them, with this condition, that they should carry them on board his ships. Thus he departed with all his men, taking with him only six of the principal prisoners as pledges. Next day the Spaniards brought the cattle and salt to the ships, and required the prisoners; but Captain Morgan refused to deliver them, till they had helped his men to kill and salt the beeves: this was performed in great haste, he not caring to stay there any longer, lest he should be surprised by the forces that were gathering against him; and having received all on board his vessels, he set at liberty the hostages. Meanwhile there happened some dissensions between the English and the French: the occasion was as follows: A Frenchman being employed in killing and salting the beeves, an English pirate took away the marrow-bones he had taken out of the ox, which these people esteem much; hereupon they challenged one another: being come to the place of duel, the Englishman stabbed the Frenchman in the back, whereby he fell down dead. The other Frenchmen, desirous of revenge, made an insurrection against the English; but Captain Morgan soon appeased them, by putting the criminal in chains to be carried to Jamaica, promising he would see justice done upon him; for though he might challenge his adversary, yet it was not lawful to kill him treacherously, as he did. All things being ready, and on board, and the prisoners set at liberty, they sailed thence to a certain island, where Captain Morgan intended to make a dividend of what they had purchased in that voyage; where being arrived, they found nigh the value of fifty thousand pieces of eight in money and goods; the sum being known, it caused a general grief to see such a small purchase, not sufficient to pay their debts at Jamaica. Hereupon Captain Morgan proposed they should think on some other enterprise and pillage before they returned. But the French not being able to agree with the English, left Captain Morgan with those of his own nation, notwithstanding all the persuasions he used to reduce them to continue in his company. Thus they parted with all external signs of friendship, Captain Morgan reiterating his promises to them that he would see justice done on that criminal. This he performed; for being arrived at Jamaica, he caused him to be hanged, which was all the satisfaction the French pirates could expect. CHAPTER XI _Captain Morgan resolving to attack and plunder the city of Puerto Bello, equips a fleet, and with little expense and small forces takes it._ SOME may think that the French having deserted Captain Morgan, the English alone could not have sufficient courage to attempt such great actions as before. But Captain Morgan, who always communicated vigour with his words, infused such spirit into his men, as put them instantly upon new designs; they being all persuaded that the sole execution of his orders would be a certain means of obtaining great riches, which so influenced their minds, that with inimitable courage they all resolved to follow him, as did also a certain pirate of Campechy, who on this occasion joined with Captain Morgan, to seek new fortunes under his conduct. Thus Captain Morgan in a few days gathered a fleet of nine sail, either ships or great boats, wherein he had four hundred and sixty military men. All things being ready, they put forth to sea, Captain Morgan imparting his design to nobody at present; he only told them on several occasions, that he doubted not to make a good fortune by that voyage, if strange occurrences happened not. They steered towards the continent, where they arrived in a few days near Costa Rica, all their fleet safe. No sooner had they discovered land but Captain Morgan declared his intentions to the captains, and presently after to the company. He told them he intended to plunder Puerto Bello by night, being resolved to put the whole city to the sack: and to encourage them he added, this enterprise could not fail, seeing he had kept it secret, without revealing it to anybody, whereby they could not have notice of his coming. To this proposition some answered, "they had not a sufficient number of men to assault so strong and great a city." But Captain Morgan replied, "If our number is small, our hearts are great; and the fewer persons we are, the more union and better shares we shall have in the spoil." Hereupon, being stimulated with the hope of those vast riches they promised themselves from their success, they unanimously agreed to that design. Now, that my reader may better comprehend the boldness of this exploit, it may be necessary to say something beforehand of the city of Puerto Bello. This city is in the province of Costa Rica, 10 deg. north latitude, fourteen leagues from the gulf of Darien, and eight westwards from the port called Nombre de Dios. It is judged the strongest place the king of Spain possesses in all the West Indies, except Havanna and Carthagena. Here are two castles almost impregnable, that defend the city, situate at the entry of the port, so that no ship or boat can pass without permission. The garrison consists of three hundred soldiers, and the town is inhabited by about four hundred families. The merchants dwell not here, but only reside awhile, when the galleons come from or go for Spain, by reason of the unhealthiness of the air, occasioned by vapours from the mountains; so that though their chief warehouses are at Puerto Bello, their habitations are at Panama, whence they bring the plate upon mules, when the fair begins, and when the ships belonging to the company of negroes arrive to sell slaves. Captain Morgan, who knew very well all the avenues of this city and the neighbouring coasts, arrived in the dusk of the evening at Puerto de Naos, ten leagues to the west of Puerto Bello. Being come hither, they sailed up the river to another harbour called Puerto Pontin, where they anchored: here they put themselves into boats and canoes, leaving in the ships only a few men to bring them next day to the port. About midnight they came to a place called Estera longa Lemos, where they all went on shore, and marched by land to the first posts of the city: they had in their company an Englishman, formerly a prisoner in those parts, who now served them for a guide: to him and three or four more they gave commission to take the sentinel, if possible, or kill him on the place: but they seized him so cunningly, as he had no time to give warning with his musket, or make any noise, and brought him, with his hands bound, to Captain Morgan, who asked him how things went in the city, and what forces they had; with other circumstances he desired to know. After every question they made him a thousand menaces to kill him, if he declared not the truth. Then they advanced to the city, carrying the said sentinel bound before them: having marched about a quarter of a league, they came to the castle near the city, which presently they closely surrounded, so that no person could get either in or out. Being posted under the walls of the castle, Captain Morgan commanded the sentinel, whom they had taken prisoner, to speak to those within, charging them to surrender to his discretion; otherwise they should all be cut in pieces, without quarter. But they regarding none of these threats, began instantly to fire, which alarmed the city; yet notwithstanding, though the governor and soldiers of the said castle made as great resistance as could be, they were forced to surrender. Having taken the castle, they resolved to be as good as their words, putting the Spaniards to the sword, thereby to strike a terror into the rest of the city. Whereupon, having shut up all the soldiers and officers as prisoners into one room, they set fire to the powder (whereof they found great quantity) and blew up the castle into the air, with all the Spaniards that were within. This done, they pursued the course of their victory, falling upon the city, which, as yet, was not ready to receive them. Many of the inhabitants cast their precious jewels and money into wells and cisterns, or hid them in places underground, to avoid, as much as possible, being totally robbed. One of the party of pirates, assigned to this purpose, ran immediately to the cloisters, and took as many religious men and women as they could find. The governor of the city, not being able to rally the citizens, through their great confusion, retired to one of the castles remaining, and thence fired incessantly at the pirates: but these were not in the least negligent either to assault him, or defend themselves, so that amidst the horror of the assault, they made very few shots in vain; for aiming with great dexterity at the mouths of the guns, the Spaniards were certain to lose one or two men every time they charged each gun anew. This continued very furious from break of day till noon; yea, about this time of the day the case was very dubious which party should conquer, or be conquered. At last, the pirates perceiving they had lost many men, and yet advanced but little towards gaining either this, or the other castles, made use of fire-balls, which they threw with their hands, designing to burn the doors of the castles; but the Spaniards from the walls let fall great quantities of stones, and earthen pots full of powder, and other combustible matter, which forced them to desist. Captain Morgan seeing this generous defence made by the Spaniards, began to despair of success. Hereupon, many faint and calm meditations came into his mind; neither could he determine which way to turn himself in that strait. Being thus puzzled, he was suddenly animated to continue the assault, by seeing English colours put forth at one of the lesser castles, then entered by his men; of whom he presently after spied a troop coming to meet him, proclaiming victory with loud shouts of joy. This instantly put him on new resolutions of taking the rest of the castles, especially seeing the chiefest citizens were fled to them, and had conveyed thither great part of their riches, with all the plate belonging to the churches and divine service. [Illustration: "MORGAN COMMANDED THE RELIGIOUS MEN AND WOMEN TO PLACE THE LADDERS AGAINST THE WALLS"--_Page 128_] To this effect, he ordered ten or twelve ladders to be made in all haste, so broad, that three or four men at once might ascend them: these being finished, he commanded all the religious men and women, whom he had taken prisoners, to fix them against the walls of the castle. This he had before threatened the governor to do, if he delivered not the castle: but his answer was, "he would never surrender himself alive." Captain Morgan was persuaded the governor would not employ his utmost force, seeing the religious women, and ecclesiastical persons, exposed in the front of the soldiers to the greatest danger. Thus the ladders, as I have said, were put into the hands of religious persons of both sexes, and these were forced, at the head of the companies, to raise and apply them to the walls: but Captain Morgan was fully deceived in his judgment of this design; for the governor, who acted like a brave soldier in performance of his duty, used his utmost endeavour to destroy whosoever came near the walls. The religious men and women ceased not to cry to him, and beg of him, by all the saints of heaven, to deliver the castle, and spare both his and their own lives; but nothing could prevail with his obstinacy and fierceness. Thus many of the religious men and nuns were killed before they could fix the ladders; which at last being done, though with great loss of the said religious people, the pirates mounted them in great numbers, and with not less valour, having fire-balls in their hands, and earthen pots full of powder; all which things, being now at the top of the walls, they kindled and cast in among the Spaniards. This effort of the pirates was very great, insomuch that the Spaniards could no longer resist nor defend the castle, which was now entered. Hereupon they all threw down their arms, and craved quarter for their lives; only the governor of the city would crave no mercy, but killed many of the pirates with his own hands, and not a few of his own soldiers; because they did not stand to their arms. And though the pirates asked him if he would have quarter; yet he constantly answered, "By no means, I had rather die as a valiant soldier, than be hanged as a coward." They endeavoured as much as they could to take him prisoner, but he defended himself so obstinately, that they were forced to kill him, notwithstanding all the cries and tears of his own wife and daughter, who begged him, on their knees, to demand quarter, and save his life. When the pirates had possessed themselves of the castle, which was about night, they enclosed therein all the prisoners, placing the women and men by themselves, with some guards: the wounded were put in an apartment by itself, that their own complaints might be the cure of their diseases; for no other was afforded them. This done, they fell to eating and drinking, as usual; that is, committing in both all manner of debauchery and excess, so that fifty courageous men might easily have retaken the city, and killed all the pirates. Next day, having plundered all they could find, they examined some of the prisoners (who had been persuaded by their companions to say they were the richest of the town), charging them severely to discover where they had hid their riches and goods. Not being able to extort anything from them, they not being the right persons, it was resolved to torture them: this they did so cruelly, that many of them died on the rack, or presently after. Now the president of Panama being advertised of the pillage and ruin of Puerto Bello, he employed all his care and industry to raise forces to pursue and cast out the pirates thence; but these cared little for his preparations, having their ships at hand, and determining to fire the city, and retreat. They had now been at Puerto Bello fifteen days, in which time they had lost many of their men, both by the unhealthiness of the country, and their extravagant debaucheries. Hereupon, they prepared to depart, carrying on board all the pillage they had got, having first provided the fleet with sufficient victuals for the voyage. While these things were doing, Captain Morgan demanded of the prisoners a ransom for the city, or else he would burn it down, and blow up all the castles; withal, he commanded them to send speedily two persons, to procure the sum, which was 100,000 pieces of eight. To this effect two men were sent to the president of Panama, who gave him an account of all. The president, having now a body of men ready, set forth towards Puerto Bello, to encounter the pirates before their retreat; but, they, hearing of his coming, instead of flying away, went out to meet him at a narrow passage, which he must pass: here they placed a hundred men, very well armed, which at the first encounter put to flight a good party of those of Panama. This obliged the president to retire for that time, not being yet in a posture of strength to proceed farther. Presently after, he sent a message to Captain Morgan, to tell him, "that if he departed not suddenly with all his forces from Puerto Bello, he ought to expect no quarter for himself, nor his companions, when he should take them, as he hoped soon to do." Captain Morgan, who feared not his threats, knowing he had a secure retreat in his ships, which were at hand, answered, "he would not deliver the castles, before he had received the contribution money he had demanded; which if it were not paid down, he would certainly burn the whole city, and then leave it, demolishing beforehand the castles, and killing the prisoners." The governor of Panama perceived by this answer that no means would serve to mollify the hearts of the pirates, nor reduce them to reason: hereupon, he determined to leave them, as also those of the city whom he came to relieve, involved in the difficulties of making the best agreement they could. Thus in a few days more the miserable citizens gathered the contributions required, and brought 100,000 pieces of eight to the pirates for a ransom of their cruel captivity: but the president of Panama was much amazed to consider that four hundred men could take such a great city, with so many strong castles, especially having no ordnance, wherewith to raise batteries, and, what was more, knowing the citizens of Puerto Bello had always great repute of being good soldiers themselves, and who never wanted courage in their own defence. This astonishment was so great, as made him send to Captain Morgan, desiring some small pattern of those arms wherewith he had taken with much vigour so great a city. Captain Morgan received this messenger very kindly, and with great civility; and gave him a pistol, and a few small bullets, to carry back to the president his master; telling him, withal, "he desired him to accept that slender pattern of the arms wherewith he had taken Puerto Bello, and keep them for a twelvemonth; after which time he promised to come to Panama, and fetch them away." The governor returned the present very soon to Captain Morgan, giving him thanks for the favour of lending him such weapons as he needed not; and, withal, sent him a ring of gold, with this message, "that he desired him not to give himself the labour of coming to Panama, as he had done to Puerto Bello: for he did assure him, he should not speed so well here, as he had done there." After this, Captain Morgan (having provided his fleet with all necessaries, and taken with him the best guns of the castles, nailing up the rest) set sail from Puerto Bello with all his ships, and arriving in a few days at Cuba, he sought out a place wherein he might quickly make the dividend of their spoil. They found in ready money 250,000 pieces of eight, besides other merchandises; as cloth, linen, silks, &c. With this rich purchase they sailed thence to their common place of rendezvous, Jamaica. Being arrived, they passed here some time in all sorts of vices and debaucheries, according to their custom; spending very prodigally what others had gained with no small labour and toil. CHAPTER XII _Captain Morgan takes the city of Maracaibo on the coast of Neuva Venezuela--Piracies committed in those seas--Ruin of three Spanish ships, set forth to hinder the robberies of the pirates._ NOT long after their arrival at Jamaica, being that short time they needed to lavish away all the riches above mentioned, they concluded on another enterprise to seek new fortunes: to this effect Captain Morgan ordered all the commanders of his ships to meet at De la Vacca, or the Cow Isle, south of Hispaniola, as is said. Hither flocked to them great numbers of other pirates, French and English; the name of Captain Morgan being now famous in all the neighbouring countries for his great enterprises. There was then at Jamaica an English ship newly come from New England, well mounted with thirty-six guns: this vessel, by order of the governor of Jamaica, joined Captain Morgan to strengthen his fleet, and give him greater courage to attempt mighty things. With this supply Captain Morgan judged himself sufficiently strong; but there being in the same place another great vessel of twenty-four iron guns, and twelve brass ones, belonging to the French, Captain Morgan endeavoured also to join this ship to his own; but the French not daring to trust the English, denied absolutely to consent. The French pirates belonging to this great ship had met at sea an English vessel; and being under great want of victuals, they had taken some provisions out of the English ship, without paying for them, having, perhaps, no ready money aboard: only they gave them bills of exchange for Jamaica and Tortuga, to receive money there. Captain Morgan having notice of this, and perceiving he could not prevail with the French captain to follow him, resolved to lay hold on this occasion, to ruin the French, and seek his revenge. Hereupon he invited, with dissimulation, the French commander, and several of his men, to dine with him on board the great ship that was come to Jamaica, as is said. Being come, he made them all prisoners, pretending the injury aforesaid done to the English vessel. This unjust action of Captain Morgan was soon followed by Divine punishment, as we may conceive: the manner I shall instantly relate. Captain Morgan, presently after he had taken these French prisoners, called a council to deliberate what place they should first pitch upon in this new expedition. Here it was determined to go to the isle of Savona, to wait for the flota then expected from Spain, and take any of the Spanish vessels straggling from the rest. This resolution being taken, they began aboard the great ship to feast one another for joy of their new voyage, and happy council, as they hoped: they drank many healths, and discharged many guns, the common sign of mirth among seamen. Most of the men being drunk, by what accident is not known, the ship suddenly was blown up, with three hundred and fifty Englishmen, besides the French prisoners in the hold; of all which there escaped but thirty men, who were in the great cabin, at some distance from the main force of the powder. Many more, it is thought, might have escaped, had they not been so much overtaken with wine. This loss brought much consternation of mind upon the English; they knew not whom to blame, but at last the accusation was laid on the French prisoners, whom they suspected to have fired the powder of the ship out of revenge, though with the loss of their own lives: hereupon they added new accusations to their former, whereby to seize the ship and all that was in it, by saying the French designed to commit piracy on the English. The grounds of this accusation were given by a commission from the governor of Barracoa, found aboard the French vessel, wherein were these words, "that the said governor did permit the French to trade in all Spanish ports," &c. "As also to cruise on the English pirates in what place soever they could find them, because of the multitudes of hostilities which they had committed against the subjects of his Catholic Majesty in time of peace betwixt the two crowns." This commission for trade was interpreted as an express order to exercise piracy and war against them, though it was only a bare licence for coming into the Spanish ports; the cloak of which permission were those words, "that they should cruise upon the English." And though the French did sufficiently expound the true sense of it, yet they could not clear themselves to Captain Morgan nor his council: but in lieu thereof, the ship and men were seized and sent to Jamaica. Here they also endeavoured to obtain justice, and the restitution of their ship, but all in vain; for instead of justice, they were long detained in prison, and threatened with hanging. Eight days after the loss of the said ship, Captain Morgan commanded the bodies of the miserable wretches who were blown up to be searched for, as they floated on the sea; not to afford them Christian burial, but for their clothes and attire: and if any had gold rings on their fingers, these were cut off, leaving them exposed to the voracity of the monsters of the sea. At last they set sail for Savona, the place of their assignation. There were in all fifteen vessels, Captain Morgan commanding the biggest, of only fourteen small guns; his number of men was nine hundred and sixty. Few days after, they arrived at the Cabo de Lobos, south of Hispaniola, between Cape Tiburon and Cape Punta de Espada: hence they could not pass by reason of contrary winds for three weeks, notwithstanding all the utmost endeavours Captain Morgan used to get forth; then they doubled the cape, and spied an English vessel at a distance. Having spoken with her, they found she came from England, and bought of her, for ready money, some provisions they wanted. Captain Morgan proceeded on his voyage till he came to the port of Ocoa; here he landed some men, sending them into the woods to seek water and provisions, the better to spare such as he had already on board. They killed many beasts, and among others some horses. But the Spaniards, not well satisfied at their hunting, laid a stratagem for them, ordering three or four hundred men to come from Santo Domingo not far distant, and desiring them to hunt in all the parts thereabout near the sea, that so, if the pirates should return, they might find no subsistence. Within few days the same pirates returned to hunt, but finding nothing to kill, a party of about fifty straggled farther on into the woods. The Spaniards, who watched all their motions, gathered a great herd of cows, and set two or three men to keep them. The pirates having spied them, killed a sufficient number; and though the Spaniards could see them at a distance, yet they could not hinder them at present; but as soon as they attempted to carry them away, they set upon them furiously, crying, "Mata, mata," _i.e._, "Kill, kill." Thus the pirates were compelled to quit the prey, and retreat to their ships; but they did it in good order, retiring by degrees, and when they had opportunity, discharging full volleys on the Spaniards, killing many of their enemies, though with some loss. The Spaniards seeing their damage, endeavoured to save themselves by flight, and carry off their dead and wounded companions. The pirates perceiving them flee, would not content themselves with what hurt they had already done, but pursued them speedily into the woods, and killed the greatest part of those that remained. Next day Captain Morgan, extremely offended at what had passed, went himself with two hundred men into the woods to seek for the rest of the Spaniards, but finding nobody, he revenged his wrath on the houses of the poor and miserable rustics that inhabit those scattering fields and woods, of which he burnt a great number: with this he returned to his ships, somewhat more satisfied in his mind for having done some considerable damage to the enemy; which was always his most ardent desire. The impatience wherewith Captain Morgan had waited a long while for some of his ships not yet arrived, made him resolve to sail away without them, and steer for Savona, the place he always designed. Being arrived, and not finding any of his ships come, he was more impatient and concerned than before, fearing their loss, or that he must proceed without them; but he waiting for their arrival a few days longer, and having no great plenty of provisions, he sent a crew of one hundred and fifty men to Hispaniola to pillage some towns near Santo Domingo; but the Spaniards, upon intelligence of their coming, were so vigilant, and in such good posture of defence, that the pirates thought not convenient to assault them, choosing rather to return empty-handed to Captain Morgan, than to perish in that desperate enterprise. At last Captain Morgan, seeing the other ships did not come, made a review of his people, and found only about five hundred men; the ships wanting were seven, he having only eight in his company, of which the greatest part were very small. Having hitherto resolved to cruise on the coasts of Caraccas, and to plunder the towns and villages there, finding himself at present with such small forces, he changed his resolution by advice of a French captain in his fleet. This Frenchman having served Lolonois in the like enterprises, and at the taking of Maracaibo, knew all the entries, passages, forces, and means, how to put in execution the same again in company of Captain Morgan; to whom having made a full relation of all, he concluded to sack it the second time, being himself persuaded, with all his men, of the facility the Frenchman propounded. Hereupon they weighed anchor, and steered towards Curasao. Being come within sight of it, they landed at another island near it, called Ruba, about twelve leagues from Curasao to the west. This island, defended by a slender garrison, is inhabited by Indians subject to Spain, and speak Spanish, by reason of the Roman Catholic religion, here cultivated by a few priests sent from the neighbouring continent. The inhabitants exercise commerce or trade with the pirates that go or come this way: they buy of the islanders sheep, lambs, and kids, which they exchange for linen, thread, and like things. The country is very dry and barren, the whole substance thereof consisting in those three things, and in a little indifferent wheat. This isle produces many venomous insects, as vipers, spiders, and others. These last are so pernicious, that a man bitten by them dies mad; and the manner of recovering such is to tie them very fast both hands and feet, and so to leave them twenty-four hours, without eating or drinking anything. Captain Morgan, as was said, having cast anchor before this island, bought of the inhabitants sheep, lambs, and wood, for all his fleet. After two days, he sailed again in the night, to the intent they might not see what course he steered. Next day they arrived at the sea of Maracaibo, taking great care not to be seen from Vigilia, for which reason they anchored out of sight of it. Night being come, they set sail again towards the land, and next morning, by break of day, were got directly over against the bar of the said lake. The Spaniards had built another fort since the action of Lolonois, whence they now fired continually against the pirates, while they put their men into boats to land. The dispute continued very hot, being managed with great courage from morning till dark night. This being come, Captain Morgan, in the obscurity thereof, drew nigh the fort, which having examined, he found nobody in it, the Spaniards having deserted it not long before. They left behind them a match lighted near a train of powder, to have blown up the pirates and the whole fortress as soon as they were in it. This design had taken effect, had not the pirates discovered it in a quarter of an hour; but Captain Morgan snatching away the match, saved both his own and his companions' lives. They found here much powder, whereof he provided his fleet, and then demolished part of the walls, nailing sixteen pieces of ordnance, from twelve to twenty-four pounders. Here they also found many muskets and other military provisions. Next day they commanded the ships to enter the bar, among which they divided the powder, muskets, and other things found in the fort: then they embarked again to continue their course towards Maracaibo; but the waters being very low, they could not pass a certain bank at the entry of the lake: hereupon they were compelled to go into canoes and small boats, with which they arrived next day before Maracaibo, having no other defence than some small pieces which they could carry in the said boats. Being landed, they ran immediately to the fort De la Barra, which they found as the precedent, without any person in it, for all were fled into the woods, leaving also the town without any people, unless a few miserable folks, who had nothing to lose. As soon as they had entered the town, the pirates searched every corner, to see if they could find any people that were hid, who might offend them unawares; not finding anybody, every party, as they came out of their several ships, chose what houses they pleased. The church was deputed for the common corps du guard, where they lived after their military manner, very insolently. Next day after they sent a troop of a hundred men to seek for the inhabitants and their goods; these returned next day, bringing with them thirty persons, men, women, and children, and fifty mules laden with good merchandise. All these miserable people were put to the rack, to make them confess where the rest of the inhabitants were, and their goods. Among other tortures, one was to stretch their limbs with cords, and then to beat them with sticks and other instruments. Others had burning matches placed betwixt their fingers, which were thus burnt alive. Others had slender cords or matches twisted about their heads, till their eyes burst out. Thus all inhuman cruelties were executed on those innocent people. Those who would not confess, or who had nothing to declare, died under the hands of those villains. These tortures and racks continued for three whole weeks, in which time they sent out daily parties to seek for more people to torment and rob, they never returning without booty and new riches. Captain Morgan having now gotten into his hands about a hundred of the chief families, with all their goods, at last resolved for Gibraltar, as Lolonois had done before: with this design he equipped his fleet, providing it sufficiently with all necessaries. He put likewise on board all the prisoners, and weighing anchor, set sail with resolution to hazard a battle. They had sent before some prisoners to Gibraltar, to require the inhabitants to surrender, otherwise Captain Morgan would certainly put them all to the sword, without any quarter. Arriving before Gibraltar, the inhabitants received him with continual shooting of great cannon bullets; but the pirates, instead of fainting hereat, ceased not to encourage one another, saying, "We must make one meal upon bitter things, before we come to taste the sweetness of the sugar this place affords." Next day very early they landed all their men, and being guided by the Frenchman abovesaid, they marched towards the town, not by the common way, but crossing through the woods, which way the Spaniards scarce thought they would have come; for at the beginning of their march they made as if they intended to come the next and open way to the town, hereby to deceive the Spaniards: but these remembering full well what Lolonois had done but two years before, thought it not safe to expect a second brunt, and hereupon all fled out of the town as fast as they could, carrying all their goods and riches, as also all the powder; and having nailed all the great guns, so as the pirates found not one person in the whole city, but one poor innocent man who was born a fool. This man they asked whither the inhabitants were fled, and where they had hid their goods. To all which questions and the like, he constantly answered, "I know nothing, I know nothing:" but they presently put him to the rack, and tortured him with cords; which torments forced him to cry out, "Do not torture me any more, but come with me, and I will show you my goods and my riches." They were persuaded, it seems, he was some rich person disguised under those clothes so poor, and that innocent tongue; so they went along with him, and he conducted them to a poor miserable cottage, wherein he had a few earthen dishes and other things of no value, and three pieces of eight, concealed with some other trumpery underground. Then they asked him his name, and he readily answered, "My name is Don Sebastian Sanchez, and I am brother unto the governor of Maracaibo." This foolish answer, it must be conceived, these inhuman wretches took for truth: for no sooner had they heard it, but they put him again upon the rack, lifting him up on high with cords, and tying huge weights to his feet and neck. Besides which, they burnt him alive, applying palm-leaves burning to his face. [Illustration: "'THEY HANGED HIM ON A TREE'"--_Page 146_] The same day they sent out a party to seek for the inhabitants, on whom they might exercise their cruelties. These brought back an honest peasant with two daughters of his, whom they intended to torture as they used others, if they showed not the places where the inhabitants were hid. The peasant knew some of those places, and seeing himself threatened with the rack, went with the pirates to show them; but the Spaniards perceiving their enemies to range everywhere up and down the woods, were already fled thence farther off into the thickest of the woods, where they built themselves huts, to preserve from the weather those few goods they had. The pirates judged themselves deceived by the peasant, and hereupon, to revenge themselves, notwithstanding all his excuses and supplication, they hanged him on a tree. Then they divided into parties to search the plantations; for they knew the Spaniards that were absconded could not live on what the woods afforded, without coming now and then for provisions to their country houses. Here they found a slave, to whom they promised mountains of gold and his liberty, by transporting him to Jamaica, if he would show them where the inhabitants of Gibraltar lay hid. This fellow conducted them to a party of Spaniards, whom they instantly made prisoners, commanding this slave to kill some before the eyes of the rest; that by this perpetrated crime, he might never be able to leave their wicked company. The negro, according to their orders, committed many murders and insolencies upon the Spaniards, and followed the unfortunate traces of the pirates; who eight days after returned to Gibraltar with many prisoners, and some mules laden with riches. They examined every prisoner by himself (who were in all about two hundred and fifty persons), where they had hid the rest of their goods, and if they know of their fellow-townsmen. Such as would not confess were tormented after a most inhuman manner. Among the rest, there happened to be a Portuguese, who by a negro was reported, though falsely, to be very rich; this man was commanded to produce his riches. His answer was, he had no more than one hundred pieces of eight in the world, and these had been stolen from him two days before by his servant; which words, though he sealed with many oaths and protestations, yet they would not believe him, but dragging him to the rack, without any regard to his age of sixty years, they stretched him with cords, breaking both his arms behind his shoulders. This cruelty went not alone; for he not being able or willing to make any other declaration, they put him to another sort of torment more barbarous; they tied him with small cords by his two thumbs and great toes to four stakes fixed in the ground, at a convenient distance, the whole weight of his body hanging on those cords. Not satisfied yet with this cruel torture, they took a stone of above two hundred pounds, and laid it upon his belly, as if they intended to press him to death; they also kindled palm leaves, and applied the flame to the face of this unfortunate Portuguese, burning with them the whole skin, beard, and hair. At last, seeing that neither with these tortures, nor others, they could get anything out of him, they untied the cords, and carried him half dead to the church, where was their corps du guard; here they tied him anew to one of the pillars thereof, leaving him in that condition, without giving him either to eat or drink, unless very sparingly, and so little that would scarce sustain life for some days; four or five being past, he desired one of the prisoners might come to him, by whose means he promised he would endeavour to raise some money to satisfy their demands. The prisoner whom he required was brought to him, and he ordered him to promise the pirate five hundred pieces of eight for his ransom; but they were deaf and obstinate at such a small sum, and instead of accepting it, beat him cruelly with cudgels, saying, "Old fellow, instead of five hundred, you must say five hundred thousand pieces of eight; otherwise you shall here end your life." Finally, after a thousand protestations that he was but a miserable man, and kept a poor tavern for his living, he agreed with them for one thousand pieces of eight. These he raised, and having paid them, got his liberty; though so horribly maimed, that it is scarce to be believed he could survive many weeks. Others were crucified by these tyrants, and with kindled matches burnt between the joints of their fingers and toes: others had their feet put into the fire, and thus were left to be roasted alive. Having used these and other cruelties with the white men, they began to practise the same with the negroes, their slaves, who were treated with no less inhumanity than their masters. Among these slaves was one who promised Captain Morgan to conduct him to a river of the lake, where he should find a ship and four boats, richly laden with goods of the inhabitants of Maracaibo: the same discovered likewise where the governor of Gibraltar lay hid, with the greatest part of the women of the town; but all this he revealed, upon great menaces to hang him, if he told not what he knew. Captain Morgan sent away presently two hundred men in two settees, or great boats, to this river, to seek for what the slave had discovered; but he himself, with two hundred and fifty more, undertook to go and take the governor. This gentleman was retired to a small island in the middle of the river, where he had built a little fort, as well as he could, for his defence; but hearing that Captain Morgan came in person with great forces to seek him, he retired to the top of a mountain not far off, to which there was no ascent but by a very narrow passage, so straight, that whosoever did attempt to gain the ascent, must march his men one by one. Captain Morgan spent two days before he arrived at this little island, whence he designed to proceed to the mountain where the governor was posted, had he not been told of the impossibility of ascent, not only for the narrowness of the way, but because the governor was well provided with all sorts of ammunition: beside, there was fallen a huge rain, whereby all the pirates' baggage and powder was wet. By this rain, also, they lost many men at the passage over a river that was overflown: here perished, likewise, some women and children, and many mules laden with plate and goods, which they had taken from the fugitive inhabitants; so that things were in a very bad condition with Captain Morgan, and his men much harassed, as may be inferred from this relation: whereby, if the Spaniards, in that juncture, had had but fifty men well armed, they might have entirely destroyed the pirates. But the fears the Spaniards had at first conceived were so great, that the leaves stirring on the trees they often fancied to be pirates. Finally, Captain Morgan and his people, having upon this march sometimes waded up to their middles in water for half, or whole miles together, they at last escaped, for the greatest part; but the women and children for the major part died. Thus twelve days after they set forth to seek the governor they returned to Gibraltar, with many prisoners: two days after arrived also the two settees that went to the river, bringing with them four boats, and some prisoners; but the greatest part of the merchandise in the said boats they found not, the Spaniards having unladed and secured it, having intelligence of their coming; who designed also, when the merchandise was taken out, to burn the boats: yet the Spaniards made not so much haste to unlade these vessels, but that they left in the ship and boats great parcels of goods, which the pirates seized, and brought a considerable booty to Gibraltar. Thus, after they had been in possession of the place five entire weeks, and committed an infinite number of murders, robberies, and such-like insolencies, they concluded to depart; but first they ordered some prisoners to go forth into the woods and fields, and collect a ransom for the town, otherwise they would certainly burn it down to the ground. These poor afflicted men went as they were sent, and having searched the adjoining fields and woods, returned to Captain Morgan, telling him they had scarce been able to find anybody, but that to such as they had found they had proposed his demands; to which they had answered, that the governor had prohibited them to give any ransom for the town, but they beseeched him to have a little patience, and among themselves they would collect five thousand pieces of eight; and for the rest, they would give some of their own townsmen as hostages, whom he might carry to Maracaibo, till he had received full satisfaction. Captain Morgan having now been long absent from Maracaibo, and knowing the Spaniards had had sufficient time to fortify themselves, and hinder his departure out of the lake, granted their proposition, and made as much haste as he could for his departure: he gave liberty to all the prisoners, first putting every one to a ransom; yet he detained the slaves. They delivered him four persons agreed on for hostages of what money more he was to receive, and they desired to have the slave mentioned above, intending to punish him according to his deserts; but Captain Morgan would not deliver him, lest they should burn him alive. At last, they weighed anchor, and set sail in all haste for Maracaibo: here they arrived in four days, and found all things as they had left them; yet here they received news from a poor distressed old man, whom alone they found sick in the town, that three Spanish men-of-war were arrived at the entry of the lake, waiting the return of the pirates: moreover, that the castle at the entry thereof was again put into a good posture of defence, well provided with guns and men, and all sorts of ammunition. This relation could not choose but disturb the mind of Captain Morgan, who now was careful how to get away through the narrow entry of the lake: hereupon he sent his swiftest boat to view the entry, and see if things were as they had been related. Next day the boat came back, confirming what was said; assuring him, they had viewed the ships so nigh, that they had been in great danger of their shot, hereunto they added, that the biggest ship was mounted with forty guns, the second with thirty, and the smallest with twenty-four. These forces being much beyond those of Captain Morgan, caused a general consternation in the pirates, whose biggest vessel had not above fourteen small guns. Every one judged Captain Morgan to despond, and to be hopeless, considering the difficulty of passing safe with his little fleet amidst those great ships and the fort, or he must perish. How to escape any other way, by sea or land, they saw no way. Under these necessities, Captain Morgan resumed new courage, and resolving to show himself still undaunted, he boldly sent a Spaniard to the admiral of those three ships, demanding of him a considerable ransom for not putting the city of Maracaibo to the flames. This man (who was received by the Spaniards with great admiration of the boldness of those pirates) returned two days after, bringing to Captain Morgan a letter from the said admiral, as follows:-- _The Letter of Don Alonso del Campo y Espinosa, Admiral of the Spanish Fleet, to Captain Morgan, Commander of the Pirates._ "Having understood by all our friends and neighbours, the unexpected news that you have dared to attempt and commit hostilities in the countries, cities, towns, and villages belonging to the dominions of his Catholic Majesty, my sovereign lord and master; I let you understand by these lines, that I am come to this place, according to my obligation, near that castle which you took out of the hands of a parcel of cowards; where I have put things into a very good posture of defence, and mounted again the artillery which you had nailed and dismounted. My intent is, to dispute with you your passage out of the lake, and follow and pursue you everywhere, to the end you may see the performance of my duty. Notwithstanding, if you be contented to surrender with humility all that you have taken, together with the slaves and all other prisoners, I will let you freely pass, without trouble or molestation; on condition that you retire home presently to your own country. But if you make any resistance or opposition to what I offer you, I assure you I will command boats to come from Caraccas, wherein I will put my troops, and coming to Maracaibo, will put you every man to the sword. This is my last and absolute resolution. Be prudent, therefore, and do not abuse my bounty with ingratitude. I have with me very good soldiers, who desire nothing more ardently than to revenge on you, and your people, all the cruelties, and base infamous actions, you have committed upon the Spanish nation in America. Dated on board the royal ship named the _Magdalen_, lying at anchor at the entry of the lake of Maracaibo, this 24th of April, 1669. "DON ALONSO DEL CAMPO Y ESPINOSA." As soon as Captain Morgan received this letter, he called all his men together in the market-place of Maracaibo, and after reading the contents thereof, both in French and English, asked their advice and resolution on the whole matter, and whether they had rather surrender all they had got to obtain their liberty, than fight for it. They answered all, unanimously, they had rather fight to the last drop of blood, than surrender so easily the booty they had got with so much danger of their lives. Among the rest, one said to Captain Morgan, "Take you care for the rest, and I will undertake to destroy the biggest of those ships with only twelve men: the manner shall be, by making a brulot, or fire-ship, of that vessel we took in the river of Gibraltar; which, to the intent she may not be known for a fireship, we will fill her decks with logs of wood, standing with hats and montera caps, to deceive their sight with the representation of men. The same we will do at the port-holes that serve for the guns, which shall be filled with counterfeit cannon. At the stern we will hang out English colours, and persuade the enemy she is one of our best men-of-war going to fight them." This proposition was admitted and approved by every one; howbeit, their fears were not quite dispersed. For, notwithstanding what had been concluded there, they endeavoured the next day to come to an accommodation with Don Alonso. To this effect, Captain Morgan sent to him two persons, with these propositions: First, that he would quit Maracaibo, without doing any damage to the town, or exacting any ransom for the firing thereof. Secondly, that he would set at liberty one half of the slaves, and all the prisoners, without ransom. Thirdly, that he would send home freely the four chief inhabitants of Gibraltar, which he had in his custody as hostages for the contributions those people had promised to pay. These propositions were instantly rejected by Don Alonso, as dishonourable: neither would he hear of any other accommodation, but sent back this message: "That if they surrendered not themselves voluntarily into his hands, within two days, under the conditions which he had offered them by his letter, he would immediately come, and force them to do it." No sooner had Captain Morgan received this message from Don Alonso, than he put all things in order to fight, resolving to get out of the lake by main force, without surrendering anything. First, he commanded all the slaves and prisoners to be tied, and guarded very well, and gathered all the pitch, tar, and brimstone, they could find in the whole town, for the fire-ship above-mentioned; then they made several inventions of powder and brimstone with palm leaves, well annointed with tar. They covered very well their counterfeit cannon, laying under every piece many pounds of powder; besides, they cut down many outworks of the ship, that the powder might exert its strength the better; breaking open, also, new port-holes, where, instead of guns, they placed little drums used by the negroes. Finally, the decks were handsomely beset with many pieces of wood, dressed up like men with hats, or monteras, and armed with swords, muskets, and bandeleers. The fire-ship being thus fitted, they prepared to go to the entry of the port. All the prisoners were put into one great boat, and in another of the biggest they placed all the women, plate, jewels, and other rich things: into others they put the bales of goods and merchandise, and other things of bulk: each of these boats had twelve men aboard, very well armed; the brulot had orders to go before the rest of the vessels, and presently to fall foul with the great ship. All things being ready, Captain Morgan exacted an oath of all his comrades, protesting to defend themselves to the last drop of blood, without demanding quarter; promising withal, that whosoever behaved himself thus, should be very well rewarded. With this courageous resolution they set sail to seek the Spaniards. On April 30, 1669, they found the Spanish fleet riding at anchor in the middle of the entry of the lake. Captain Morgan, it being now late and almost dark, commanded all his vessels to an anchor, designing to fight even all night if they forced him to it. He ordered a careful watch to be kept aboard every vessel till morning, they being almost within shot, as well as within sight of the enemy. The day dawning, they weighed anchor, and sailed again, steering directly towards the Spaniards; who seeing them move, did instantly the same. The fire-ship sailing before the rest fell presently upon the great ship, and grappled her; which the Spaniards (too late) perceiving to be a fire-ship, they attempted to put her off, but in vain: for the flame seizing her timber and tackling, soon consumed all the stern, the fore part sinking into the sea, where she perished. The second Spanish ship perceiving the admiral to burn, not by accident, but by industry of the enemy, escaped towards the castle, where the Spaniards themselves sunk her, choosing to lose their ship rather than to fall into the hands of those pirates. The third, having no opportunity to escape, was taken by the pirates. The seamen that sunk the second ship near the castle, perceiving the pirates come towards them to take what remains they could find of their shipwreck (for some part was yet above water), set fire also to this vessel, that the pirates might enjoy nothing of that spoil. The first ship being set on fire, some of the persons in her swam towards the shore; these pirates would have taken up in their boats, but they would not ask or take quarter, choosing rather to lose their lives than receive them from their hands, for reasons which I shall relate. [Illustration: "'THE FIRE-SHIP, SAILING BEFORE THE REST, FELL PRESENTLY UPON THE GREAT SHIP'"--_Page 158_] The pirates being extremely glad at this signal victory so soon obtained, and with so great an inequality of forces, conceived greater pride than they had before, and all presently ran ashore, intending to take the castle. This they found well provided with men, cannon, and ammunition, they having no other arms than muskets, and a few hand granadoes: their own artillery they thought incapable, for its smallness, of making any considerable breach in the walls. Thus they spent the rest of the day, firing at the garrison with their muskets, till the dusk of the evening, when they attempted to advance nearer the walls, to throw in their fire-balls: but the Spaniards resolving to sell their lives as dear as they could, fired so furiously at them, that they having experimented the obstinacy of the enemy, and seeing thirty of their men dead, and as many more wounded, they retired to their ships. The Spaniards believing the pirates would next day renew the attack with their own cannon, laboured hard all night to put things in order for their coming; particularly, they dug down, and made plain, some little hills and eminences, when possibly the castle might be offended. But Captain Morgan intended not to come again, busying himself next day in taking prisoners some of the men who still swam alive, hoping to get part of the riches lost in the two ships that perished. Among the rest, he took a pilot, who was a stranger, and who belonged to the lesser ship of the two, of whom he inquired several things; as, What number of people those three ships had in them? Whether they expected any more ships to come? From what port they set forth last, when they came to seek them out? He answered, in Spanish, "Noble sir, be pleased to pardon and spare me, that no evil be done to me, being a stranger to this nation I have served, and I shall sincerely inform you of all that passed till our arrival at this lake. We were sent by orders from the Supreme Council of State in Spain, being six men-of-war well equipped, into these seas, with instructions to cruise upon the English pirates, and root them out from these parts by destroying as many of them as we could. "These orders were given, upon the news brought to the court of Spain of the loss and ruin of Puerto Bello, and other places; of all which damages and hostilities committed here by the English, dismal lamentations have often been made to the catholic king and council, to whom belongs the care and preservation of this new world. And though the Spanish court hath many times by their ambassadors complained hereof to the king of England; yet it hath been the constant answer of his Majesty of Great Britain, that he never gave any letters patent, nor commissions, for acting any hostility against the subjects of the king of Spain. Hereupon the catholic king resolved to revenge his subjects, and punish these proceedings: commanded six men-of-war to be equipped, which he sent under the command of Don Augustine de Bustos, admiral of the said fleet. He commanded the biggest ship, named _N. S. de la Soleda_, of forty-eight great guns, and eight small ones. The vice-admiral was Don Alonso del Campo y Espinosa, who commanded the second ship called _La Conception_, of forty-four great guns, and eight small ones; besides four vessels more, whereof the first was named the _Magdalen_, of thirty-six great guns, and twelve small ones, with two hundred and fifty men. The second was called _St. Lewis_, with twenty-six great guns, twelve small ones, and two hundred men. The third was called _La Marquesa_, of sixteen great guns, eight small ones, and one hundred and fifty men. The fourth and last, _N. S. del Carmen_, with eighteen great guns, eight small ones, and one hundred and fifty men. "Being arrived at Carthagena, the two greatest ships received orders to return to Spain, being judged too big for cruising on these coasts. With the four ships remaining, Don Alonso del Campo y Espinosa departed towards Campechy to seek the English: we arrived at the port there, where, being surprised by a huge storm from the north, we lost one of our ships, being that which I named last. Hence we sailed for Hispaniola, in sight of which we came in a few days, and steered for Santo Domingo: here we heard that there had passed that way a fleet from Jamaica, and that some men thereof had landed at Alta Gracia; the inhabitants had taken one prisoner, who confessed their design was to go and pillage the city of Caraccas. On this news, Don Alonso instantly weighed anchor, and, crossing over to the continent, we came in sight of the Caraccas: here we found them not, but met with a boat, which certified us they were in the lake of Maracaibo, and that the fleet consisted of seven small ships, and one boat. "Upon this we came here, and arriving at the entry of the lake, we shot off a gun for a pilot from the shore. Those on land perceiving we were Spaniards, came willingly to us with a pilot, and told us the English had taken Maracaibo, and that they were now at the pillage of Gibraltar. Don Alonso, on this news, made a handsome speech to his soldiers and mariners, encouraging them to their duty, and promising to divide among them all they should take from the English: he ordered the guns we had taken out of the ship that was lost to be put into the castle, and mounted for its defence, with two eighteen-pounders more, out of his own ship. The pilots conducted us into the port, and Don Alonso commanded the people on shore to come before him, whom he ordered to repossess the castle, and reinforce it with one hundred men more than it had before its being taken. Soon after, we heard of your return from Gibraltar to Maracaibo, whither Don Alonso wrote you a letter, giving you an account of his arrival and design, and exhorting you to restore what you had taken. This you refusing, he renewed his promises to his soldiers and seamen, and having given a very good supper to all his people, he ordered them not to take or give any quarter, which was the occasion of so many being drowned, who dared not to crave quarter, knowing themselves must give none. Two days before you came against us, a negro came aboard Don Alonso's ship, telling him, 'Sir, be pleased to have great care of yourself; for the English have prepared a fire-ship, with design to burn your fleet.' But Don Alonso not believing this, answered, 'How can that be? Have they, peradventure, wit enough to build a fire-ship? Or what instruments have they to do it withal?'" This pilot having related so distinctly these things to Captain Morgan, was very well used by him, and, after some kind proffers made to him, remained in his service. He told Captain Morgan, that, in the ship which was sunk, there was a great quantity of plate, to the value of forty thousand pieces of eight; which occasioned the Spaniards to be often seen in boats about it. Hereupon, Captain Morgan ordered one of his ships to remain there, to find ways of getting out of it what plate they could; meanwhile, himself, with all his fleet, returned to Maracaibo, where he refitted the great ship he had taken, and chose it for himself, giving his own bottom to one of his captains. Then he sent again a messenger to the admiral, who was escaped ashore, and got into the castle, demanding of him a ransom of fire for Maracaibo; which being denied, he threatened entirely to consume and destroy it. The Spaniards considering the ill-luck they had all along with those pirates, and not knowing how to get rid of them, concluded to pay the said ransom, though Don Alonso would not consent. Hereupon, they sent to Captain Morgan, to know what sum he demanded. He answered, that on payment of 30,000 pieces of eight, and five hundred beeves, he would release the prisoners and do no damage to the town. At last they agreed on 20,000 pieces of eight, and five hundred beeves to victual his fleet. The cattle were brought the next day, with one part of the money; and, while the pirates were busied in salting the flesh, they made up the whole 20,000 pieces of eight, as was agreed. But Captain Morgan would not presently deliver the prisoners, as he had promised, fearing the shot of the castle at his going forth out of the lake. Hereupon he told them he intended not to deliver them till he was out of that danger, hoping thus to obtain a free passage. Then he set sail with his fleet in quest of the ship he had left, to seek for the plate of the vessel that was burnt. He found her on the place, with 15,000 pieces of eight got out of the work, beside many pieces of plate, as hilts of swords, and the like; also a great quantity of pieces of eight melted and run together, by the force of the fire. Captain Morgan scarce thought himself secure, nor could he contrive how to avoid the shot of the castle: hereupon he wished the prisoners to agree with the governor to permit a safe passage to his fleet, which, if he should not allow, he would certainly hang them all up in his ships. Upon this the prisoners met, and appointed some of their fellow-messengers to go to the said governor, Don Alonso: these went to him, beseeching and supplicating him to have compassion on those afflicted prisoners, who were, with their wives and children, in the hands of Captain Morgan; and that to this effect he would be pleased to give his word to let the fleet of pirates freely pass, this being the only way to save both the lives of them that came with this petition, as also of those who remained in captivity; all being equally menaced with the sword and gallows, if he granted them not this humble request. But Don Alonso gave them for answer a sharp reprehension of their cowardice, telling them, "If you had been as loyal to your king in hindering the entry of these pirates, as I shall do their going out, you had never caused these troubles, neither to yourselves nor to our whole nation, which hath suffered so much through your pusillanimity. In a word, I shall never grant your request, but shall endeavour to maintain that respect which is due to my king, according to my duty." [Illustration: "MORGAN DIVIDING THE TREASURE TAKEN AT MARACAIBO"--_Page 166_] Thus the Spaniards returned with much consternation, and no hopes of obtaining their request, telling Captain Morgan what answer they had received: his reply was, "If Don Alonso will not let me pass, I will find means how to do it without him." Hereupon he presently made a dividend of all they had taken, fearing he might not have an opportunity to do it in another place, if any tempest should rise and separate the ships, as also being jealous that any of the commanders might run away with the best part of the spoil, which then lay much more in one vessel than another. Thus they all brought in according to their laws, and declared what they had, first making oath not to conceal the least thing. The accounts being cast up, they found to the value of 25,000 pieces of eight, in money and jewels, beside the huge quantity of merchandise and slaves, all which purchase was divided to every ship or boat, according to her share. The dividend being made, the question still remained how they should pass the castle, and get out of the lake. To this effect they made use of a stratagem, as follows: the day before the night wherein they determined to get forth, they embarked many of their men in canoes, and rowed towards the shore, as if they designed to land: here they hid themselves under branches of trees that hang over the coast awhile, laying themselves down in the boats; then the canoes returned to the ships, with the appearance of only two or three men rowing them back, the rest being unseen at the bottom of the canoes: thus much only could be perceived from the castle, and this false landing of men, for so we may call it, was repeated that day several times: this made the Spaniards think the pirates intended at night to force the castle by scaling it. This fear caused them to place most of their great guns on the land side, together with their main force, leaving the side towards the sea almost destitute of defence. Night being come, they weighed anchor, and by moonlight, without setting sail, committed themselves to the ebbing tide, which gently brought them down the river, till they were near the castle; being almost over against it, they spread their sails with all possible haste. The Spaniards perceiving this, transported with all speed their guns from the other side, and began to fire very furiously at them; but these having a very favourable wind, were almost past danger before those of the castle could hurt them; so that they lost few of their men, and received no considerable damage in their ships. Being out of the reach of the guns, Captain Morgan sent a canoe to the castle with some of the prisoners, and the governor thereof gave them a boat to return to their own homes; but he detained the hostages from Gibraltar, because the rest of the ransom for not firing the place was yet unpaid. Just as he departed, Captain Morgan ordered seven great guns with bullets to be fired against the castle, as it were to take his leave of them, but they answered not so much as with a musket shot. Next day after, they were surprised with a great tempest, which forced them to cast anchor in five or six fathom water: but the storm increasing, compelled them to weigh again, and put to sea, where they were in great danger of being lost; for if they should have been cast on shore, either into the hands of the Spaniards or Indians, they would certainly have obtained no mercy: at last, the tempest being spent, the wind ceased, to the great joy of the whole fleet. While Captain Morgan made his fortune by these pillagings, his companions, who were separated from his fleet at the Cape de Lobos, to take the ship spoken of before, endured much misery, and were unfortunate in all their attempts. Being arrived at Savona, they found not Captain Morgan there, nor any of their companions, nor had they the fortune to find a letter which Captain Morgan at his departure left behind him in a place where in all probability they would meet with it. Thus, not knowing what course to steer, they concluded to pillage some town or other. They were in all about four hundred men, divided into four ships and one boat: being ready to set forth, they constituted an admiral among themselves, being one who had behaved himself very courageously at the taking of Puerto Bello, named Captain Hansel. This commander attempted the taking of the town of Commana, on the continent of Caraccas, nigh sixty leagues to the west of the Isle de la Trinidad. Being arrived there, they landed their men, and killed some few Indians near the coast; but approaching the town, the Spaniards having in their company many Indians, disputed the entry so briskly, that, with great loss and confusion, they were forced to retire to the ships. At last they arrived at Jamaica, where the rest of their companions, who came with Captain Morgan, mocked and jeered them for their ill success at Commana, often telling them, "Let us see what money you brought from Commana, and if it be as good silver as that which we bring from Maracaibo." CHAPTER XIII _Captain Morgan goes to Hispaniola to equip a new fleet, with intent to pillage again on the coast of the West Indies._ CAPTAIN MORGAN perceived now that Fortune favoured him, by giving success to all his enterprises, which occasioned him, as is usual in human affairs, to aspire to greater things, trusting she would always be constant to him. Such was the burning of Panama, wherein Fortune failed not to assist him, as she had done before, though she had led him thereto through a thousand difficulties. The history hereof I shall now relate, being so remarkable in all its circumstances, as peradventure nothing more deserving memory will be read by future ages. Captain Morgan arriving at Jamaica, found many of his officers and soldiers reduced to their former indigency, by their vices and debaucheries. Hence they perpetually importuned him for new exploits. Captain Morgan, willing to follow Fortune's call, stopped the mouths of many inhabitants of Jamaica, who were creditors to his men for large sums, with the hopes and promises of greater achievements than ever, by a new expedition. This done, he could easily levy men for any enterprise, his name being so famous through all those islands as that alone would readily bring him in more men than he could well employ. He undertook therefore to equip a new fleet, for which he assigned the south side of Tortuga as a place of rendezvous, writing letters to all the expert pirates there inhabiting, as also to the governor, and to the planters and hunters of Hispaniola, informing them of his intentions, and desiring their appearance, if they intended to go with him. These people upon this notice flocked to the place assigned, in huge numbers, with ships, canoes, and boats, being desirous to follow him. Many, who had not the convenience of coming by sea, traversed the woods of Hispaniola, and with no small difficulties arrived there by land. Thus all were present at the place assigned, and ready against October 24, 1670. Captain Morgan was not wanting to be there punctually, coming in his ship to Port Couillon, over against the island De la Vaca, the place assigned. Having gathered the greatest part of his fleet, he called a council to deliberate about finding provisions for so many people. Here they concluded to send four ships and one boat, with four hundred men, to the continent, in order to rifle some country towns and villages for all the corn or maize they could gather. They set sail for the continent towards the river De la Hacha, designing to assault the village called La Rancheria, usually best stored with maize of all the parts thereabouts. Meanwhile Captain Morgan sent another party to hunt in the woods, who killed a huge number of beasts, and salted them: the rest remained in the ships, to clean, fit, and rig them, that, at the return of their fellows, all things might be in a readiness to weigh anchor and follow their designs. CHAPTER XIV _What happened in the river De la Hacha._ THESE four ships setting sail from Hispaniola, steered for the river De la Hacha, where they were suddenly overtaken with a tedious calm. Being within sight of land becalmed for some days, the Spaniards inhabiting along the coast, who had perceived them to be enemies, had sufficient time to prepare themselves, at least to hide the best of their goods, that, without any care of preserving them, they might be ready to retire, if they proved unable to resist the pirates, by whose frequent attempts on those coasts they had already learned what to do in such cases. There was then in the river a good ship, come from Carthagena to lade with maize, and now almost ready to depart. The men of this ship endeavoured to escape; but, not being able to do it, both they and the vessel fell into their hands. This was a fit purchase for them, being good part of what they came for. Next morning, about break of day, they came with their ships ashore, and landed their men, though the Spaniards made good resistance from a battery they had raised on that side, where, of necessity, they were to land; but they were forced to retire to a village, whither the pirates followed them. Here the Spaniards rallying, fell upon them with great fury, and maintained a strong combat, which lasted till night; but then, perceiving they had lost a great number of men, which was no less on the pirates' side, they retired to secret places in the woods. Next day the pirates seeing them all fled, and the town left empty of people, they pursued them as far as they could, and overtook a party of Spaniards, whom they made prisoners, and exercised with most cruel torments, to discover their goods. Some were forced, by intolerable tortures, to confess; but others, who would not, were used more barbarously. Thus, in fifteen days that they remained there, they took many prisoners, much plate and movables, with which booty they resolved to return to Hispaniola: yet, not content with what they had got, they dispatched some prisoners into the woods to seek for the rest of the inhabitants, and to demand a ransom for not burning the town. They answered, they had no money nor plate; but if they would be satisfied with a quantity of maize, they would give as much as they could. The pirates accepted this, it being then more useful to them than ready money, and agreed they should pay four thousand hanegs, or bushels of maize. These were brought in three days after, the Spaniards being desirous to rid themselves of that inhuman sort of people. Having laded them on board with the rest of their purchase, they returned to Hispaniola, to give account to their leader, Captain Morgan, of all they had performed. They had now been absent five weeks on this commission, which long delay occasioned Captain Morgan almost in despair of their return, fearing lest they were fallen in to the hands of the Spaniards; especially considering the place whereto they went could easily be relieved from Carthagena and Santa Maria, if the inhabitants were careful to alarm the country. On the other side, he feared lest they should have made some great fortune in that voyage, and with it have escaped to some other place. But seeing his ships return in greater numbers than they departed, he resumed new courage, this sight causing both in him and his companions infinite joy, especially when they found them full laden with maize, which they much wanted for the maintenance of so many people, from whom they expected great matters under such a commander. Captain Morgan having divided the said maize, as also the flesh which the hunters brought, among his ships, according to the number of men, he concluded to depart; having viewed beforehand every ship, and observed their being well equipped and clean. Thus he set sail, and stood for Cape Tiburon, where he determined to resolve what enterprise he should take in hand. No sooner were they arrived, but they met some other ships newly come to join them from Jamaica; so that now their fleet consisted of thirty-seven ships, wherein were two thousand fighting men, beside mariners and boys. The admiral hereof was mounted with twenty-two great guns, and six small ones of brass; the rest carried some twenty; some sixteen, some eighteen, and the smallest vessel at least four; besides which, they had great quantities of ammunition and fire-balls, with other inventions of powder. Captain Morgan having such a number of ships, divided the whole fleet into two squadrons, constituting a vice-admiral, and other officers of the second squadron, distinct from the former. To these he gave letters patent, or commissions to act all manner of hostilities against the Spanish nation, and take of them what ships they could, either abroad at sea, or in the harbours, as if they were open and declared enemies (as he termed it) of the king of England, his pretended master. This done, he called all his captains and other officers together, and caused them to sign some articles of agreement betwixt them, and in the name of all. Herein it was stipulated, that he should have the hundredth part of all that was gotten to himself: that every captain should draw the shares of eight men for the expenses of his ship, besides his own. To the surgeon, beside his pay, two hundred pieces of eight for his chest of medicaments. To every carpenter, above his salary, one hundred pieces of eight. The rewards were settled in this voyage much higher than before: as, for the loss of both legs, fifteen hundred pieces of eight, or fifteen slaves, the choice left to the party, for the loss of both hands, eighteen hundred pieces of eight, or eighteen slaves: for one leg, whether right or left, six hundred pieces of eight, or six slaves: for a hand, as much as for a leg; and for the loss of an eye, one hundred pieces of eight, or one slave. Lastly, to him that in any battle should signalize himself, either by entering first any castle, or taking down the Spanish colours, and setting up the English, they allotted fifty pieces of eight for a reward. All which extraordinary salaries and rewards to be paid out of the first spoil they should take, as every one should occur to be either rewarded or paid. This contract being signed, Captain Morgan commanded his vice-admirals and captains to put all things in order, to attempt one of these three places; either Carthagena, Panama, or Vera Cruz. But the lot fell on Panama, as the richest of all three; though this city being situate at such a distance from the North Sea as they knew not well the approaches to it, they judged it necessary to go beforehand to the isle of St. Catherine, there to find some persons for guides in this enterprise; for in the garrison there are commonly many banditti and outlaws belonging to Panama and the neighbouring places, who are very expert in the knowledge of that country. But before they proceeded, they published an act through the whole fleet, promising, if they met with any Spanish vessel, the first captain who should take it should have for his reward the tenth part of what should be found in her. CHAPTER XV _Captain Morgan leaves Hispaniola and goes to St. Catherine's, which he takes._ CAPTAIN MORGAN and his companions weighed anchor from the Cape of Tiburon, December 16, 1670. Four days after they arrived in sight of St. Catherine's, now in possession of the Spaniards again, as was said before, to which they commonly banish the malefactors of the Spanish dominions in the West Indies. Here are huge quantities of pigeons at certain seasons. It is watered by four rivulets, whereof two are always dry in summer. Here is no trade or commerce exercised by the inhabitants; neither do they plant more fruits than what are necessary for human life, though the country would make very good plantations of tobacco of considerable profit, were it cultivated. As soon as Captain Morgan came near the island with his fleet, he sent one of his best sailing vessels to view the entry of the river, and see if any other ships were there, who might hinder him from landing; as also fearing lest they should give intelligence of his arrival to the inhabitants, and prevent his designs. Next day, before sunrise, all the fleet anchored near the island, in a bay called Aguade Grande. On this bay the Spaniards had built a battery, mounted with four pieces of cannon. Captain Morgan landed about one thousand men in divers squadrons, marching through the woods, though they had no other guides than a few of his own men, who had been there before, under Mansvelt. The same day they came to a place where the governor sometimes resided: here they found a battery called the Platform, but nobody in it, the Spaniards having retired to the lesser island, which, as was said before, is so near the great one, that a short bridge only may conjoin them. This lesser island was so well fortified with forts and batteries round it, as might seem impregnable. Hereupon, as soon as the Spaniards perceived the pirates approach, they fired on them so furiously, that they could advance nothing that day, but were content to retreat, and take up their rest in the open fields, which was not strange to these people, being sufficiently used to such kind of repose. What most afflicted them was hunger, having not eat anything that whole day. About midnight it rained so hard, that they had much ado to bear it, the greatest part of them having no other clothes than a pair of seaman's trousers or breeches, and a shirt, without shoes or stockings. In this great extremity they pulled down a few thatched houses to make fires withal; in a word, they were in such a condition, that one hundred men, indifferently well armed, might easily that night have torn them all in pieces. Next morning, about break of day, the rain ceased, and they dried their arms and marched on: but soon after it rained afresh, rather harder than before, as if the skies were melted into waters; which kept them from advancing towards the forts, whence the Spaniards continually fired at them. The pirates were now reduced to great affliction and danger, through the hardness of the weather, their own nakedness, and great hunger; for a small relief hereof, they found in the fields an old horse, lean, and full of scabs and blotches, with galled back and sides: this they instantly killed and flayed, and divided in small pieces among themselves, as far as it would reach (for many could not get a morsel) which they roasted and devoured without salt or bread, more like ravenous wolves than men. The rain not ceasing, Captain Morgan perceived their minds to relent, hearing many of them say they would return on board. Among these fatigues of mind and body, he thought convenient to use some sudden remedy: to this effect, he commanded a canoe to be rigged in haste, and colours of truce to be hanged out. This canoe he sent to the Spanish governor, with this message: "That if within a few hours he delivered not himself and all his men into his hands, he did by that messenger swear to him, and all those that were in his company, he would most certainly put them to the sword, without granting quarter to any." In the afternoon the canoe returned with this answer: "That the governor desired two hours' time to deliberate with his officers about it, which being past, he would give his positive answer." The time being elapsed, the governor sent two canoes with white colours, and two persons to treat with Captain Morgan; but, before they landed, they demanded of the pirates two persons as hostages. These were readily granted by Captain Morgan, who delivered them two of the captains for a pledge of the security required. With this the Spaniards propounded to Captain Morgan, that the governor, in a full assembly, had resolved to deliver up the island, not being provided with sufficient forces to defend it against such an armada. But withal, he desired Captain Morgan would be pleased to use a certain stratagem of war, for the better saving of his own credit, and the reputation of his officers both abroad and at home, which should be as follows:--That Captain Morgan would come with his troops by night to the bridge that joined the lesser island to the great one, and there attack the fort of St. Jerome: that at the same time all his fleet would draw near the castle of Santa Teresa, and attack it by land, landing, in the meanwhile, more troops near the battery of St. Matthew: that these troops being newly landed, should by this means intercept the governor as he endeavoured to pass to St. Jerome's fort, and then take him prisoner; using the formality, as if they forced him to deliver the castle; and that he would lead the English into it, under colour of being his own troops. That on both sides there should be continual firing, but without bullets, or at least into the air, so that no side might be hurt. That thus having obtained two such considerable forts, the chiefest of the isle, he need not take care for the rest, which must fall of course into his hands. These propositions were granted by Captain Morgan, on condition they should see them faithfully observed; otherwise they should be used with the utmost rigour: this they promised to do, and took their leave, to give account of their negotiation to the governor. Presently after, Captain Morgan commanded the whole fleet to enter the port, and his men to be ready to assault, that night, the castle of St. Jerome. Thus the false battle began, with incessant firing from both the castles, against the ships, but without bullets, as was agreed. Then the pirates landed, and assaulted by night the lesser island, which they took, as also both fortresses; forcing the Spaniards, in appearance, to fly to the church. Before this assault, Captain Morgan sent word to the governor, that he should keep all his men together in a body; otherwise, if the pirates met any straggling Spaniards in the streets, they should certainly shoot them. This island being taken by this unusual stratagem, and all things put in order, the pirates made a new war against the poultry, cattle, and all sorts of victuals they could find, for some days; scarce thinking of anything else than to kill, roast, and eat, and make what good cheer they could. If wood was wanting, they pulled down the houses, and made fires with the timber, as had been done before in the field. Next day they numbered all the prisoners they had taken upon the island, which were found to be in all four hundred and fifty-nine persons, men, women, and children; viz., one hundred and ninety soldiers of the garrison; forty inhabitants, who were married: forty-three children, thirty-four slaves, belonging to the king; with eight children, eight banditti, thirty-nine negroes belonging to private persons; with twenty-seven female blacks, and thirty-four children. The pirates disarmed all the Spaniards, and sent them out immediately to the plantations to seek for provisions, leaving the women in the church to exercise their devotions. Soon after they reviewed the whole island, and all the fortresses thereof, which they found to be nine in all, viz., the fort of St. Jerome, next the bridge, had eight great guns, of twelve, six, and eight pounds carriage; with six pipes of muskets, every pipe containing ten muskets. Here they found still sixty muskets, with sufficient powder and other ammunition. The second fortress, called St. Matthew, had three guns, of eight pounds each. The third, and chiefest, named Santa Teresa, had twenty great guns, of eighteen, twelve, eight, and six pounds; with ten pipes of muskets, like those before, and ninety muskets remaining, besides other ammunition. This castle was built with stone and mortar, with very thick walls, and a large ditch round it, twenty feet deep, which, though it was dry, yet was very hard to get over. Here was no entry, but through one door, to the middle of the castle. Within it was a mount, almost inaccessible, with four pieces of cannon at the top; whence they could shoot directly into the port. On the sea side it was impregnable, by reason of the rocks round it, and the sea beating furiously upon them. To the land it was so commodiously seated on a mountain, as there was no access to it but by a path three or four feet broad. The fourth fortress was named St. Augustine, having three guns of eight and six pounds. The fifth, named La Plattaforma de la Conception, had only two guns, of eight pounds. The sixth, by name San Salvador, had likewise no more than two guns. The seventh, called Plattaforma de los Artilleros, had also two guns. The eighth, called Santa Cruz, had three guns. The ninth, called St. Joseph's Fort, had six guns, of twelve and eight pounds, besides two pipes of muskets, and sufficient ammunition. In the storehouses were above thirty thousand pounds of powder, with all other ammunition, which was carried by the pirates on board. All the guns were stopped and nailed, and the fortresses demolished, except that of St. Jerome, where the pirates kept guard and resistance. Captain Morgan inquired for any banditti from Panama or Puerto Bello, and three were brought him, who pretended to be very expert in the avenues of those parts. He asked them to be his guides, and show him the securest ways to Panama, which, if they performed, he promised them equal shares in the plunder of that expedition, and their liberty when they arrived in Jamaica. These propositions the banditti readily accepted, promising to serve him very faithfully, especially one of the three, who was the greatest rogue, thief, and assassin among them, who had deserved rather to be broken alive on the wheel, than punished with serving in a garrison. This wicked fellow had a great ascendant over the other two, and domineered over them as he pleased, they not daring to disobey his orders. Captain Morgan commanded four ships and one boat to be equipped, and provided with necessaries, to go and take the castle of Chagre, on the river of that name; neither would he go himself with his whole fleet, lest the Spaniards should be jealous of his farther design on Panama. In these vessels he embarked four hundred men, to put in execution these his orders. Meanwhile, himself remained in St. Catherine's with the rest of the fleet, expecting to hear of their success. CHAPTER XVI _Captain Morgan takes the Castle of Chagre, with four hundred men sent to this purpose from St. Catherine's._ CAPTAIN MORGAN sending this little fleet to Chagre, chose for vice-admiral thereof one Captain Brodely, who had been long in those quarters, and committed many robberies on the Spaniards, when Mansvelt took the isle of St. Catherine, as was before related; and therefore was thought a fit person for this exploit, his actions likewise having rendered him famous among the pirates, and their enemies the Spaniards. Captain Brodely being made commander, in three days after his departure arrived in sight of the said castle of Chagre, by the Spaniards called St. Lawrence. This castle is built on a high mountain, at the entry of the river, surrounded by strong palisades, or wooden walls, filled with earth, which secures them as well as the best wall of stone or brick. The top of this mountain is, in a manner, divided into two parts, between which is a ditch thirty feet deep. The castle hath but one entry, and that by a drawbridge over this ditch. To the land it has four bastions, and to the sea two more. The south part is totally inaccessible, through the cragginess of the mountain. The north is surrounded by the river, which here is very broad. At the foot of the castle, or rather mountain, is a strong fort, with eight great guns, commanding the entry of the river. Not much lower are two other batteries, each of six pieces, to defend likewise the mouth of the river. At one side of the castle are two great storehouses of all sorts of warlike ammunition and merchandise, brought thither from the island country. Near these houses is a high pair of stairs hewn out of the rock, to mount to the top of the castle. On the west is a small port, not above seven or eight fathoms deep, fit for small vessels, and of very good anchorage; besides, before the castle, at the entry of the river, is a great rock, scarce to be described but at low tides. No sooner had the Spaniards perceived the pirates, but they fired incessantly at them with the biggest of their guns. They came to an anchor in a small port, about a league from the castle. Next morning, very early, they went ashore, and marched through the woods, to attack the castle on that side. This march lasted till two of the clock in the afternoon, before they could reach the castle, by reason of the difficulties of the way, and its mire and dirt; and though their guides served them very exactly, yet they came so nigh the castle at first, that they lost many of their men by its shot, they being in an open place without covert. This much perplexed the pirates, not knowing what course to take; for on that side, of necessity, they must make the assault: and being uncovered from head to foot, they could not advance one step without danger: besides that, the castle, both for its situation and strength, made them much doubt of success. But to give it over they dared not, lest they should be reproached by their companions. At last, after many doubts and disputes, resolving to hazard the assault and their lives desperately, they advanced towards the castle with their swords in one hand, and fire-balls in the other. The Spaniards defended themselves very briskly, ceasing not to fire at them continually; crying withal, "Come on, ye English dogs! enemies to God and our king; and let your other companions that are behind come on too, ye shall not go to Panama this bout." The pirates making some trial to climb the walls, were forced to retreat, resting themselves till night. This being come, they returned to the assault, to try, by the help of their fire-balls, to destroy the pales before the wall; and while they were about it, there happened a very remarkable accident, which occasioned their victory. One of the pirates being wounded with an arrow in his back, which pierced his body through, he pulled it out boldly at the side of his breast, and winding a little cotton about it, he put it into his musket, and shot it back to the castle; but the cotton being kindled by the powder, fired two or three houses in the castle, being thatched with palm-leaves, which the Spaniards perceived not so soon as was necessary; for this fire meeting with a parcel of powder, blew it up, thereby causing great ruin, and no less consternation to the Spaniards, who were not able to put a stop to it, not having seen it time enough. The pirates perceiving the effect of the arrow, and the misfortunes of the Spaniards, were infinitely glad; and while they were busied in quenching the fire, which caused a great confusion for want of water, the pirates took this opportunity, setting fire likewise to the palisades. The fire thus seen at once in several parts about the castle, gave them great advantage against the Spaniards, many breaches being made by the fire among the pales, great heaps of earth falling into the ditch. Then the pirates climbing up, got over into the castle, though those Spaniards, who were not busy about the fire, cast down many flaming pots full of combustible matter, and odious smells, which destroyed many of the English. The Spaniards, with all their resistance, could not hinder the palisades from being burnt down before midnight. Meanwhile the pirates continued in their intention of taking the castle; and though the fire was very great, they would creep on the ground, as near as they could, and shoot amidst the flames against the Spaniards on the other side, and thus killed many from the walls. When day was come, they observed all the movable earth, that lay betwixt the pales, to be fallen into the ditch; so that now those within the castle lay equally exposed to them without, as had been on the contrary before; whereupon the pirates continued shooting very furiously, and killed many Spaniards; for the governor had charged them to make good those posts, answering to the heaps of earth fallen into the ditch, and caused the artillery to be transported to the breaches. The fire within the castle still continuing, the pirates from abroad did what they could to hinder its progress, by shooting incessantly against it; one party of them was employed only for this, while another watched all the motions of the Spaniards. About noon the English gained a breach, which the governor himself defended with twenty-five soldiers. Here was made a very courageous resistance by the Spaniards, with muskets, pikes, stones, and swords; but through all these the pirates fought their way, till they gained the castle. The Spaniards, who remained alive, cast themselves down from the castle into the sea, choosing rather to die thus (few or none surviving the fall) than to ask quarter for their lives. The governor himself retreated to the corps du gard, before which were placed two pieces of cannon: here he still defended himself, not demanding any quarter, till he was killed with a musket-shot in the head. The governor being dead, and the corps du gard surrendering, they found remaining in it alive thirty men, whereof scarce ten were not wounded: these informed the pirates that eight or nine of their soldiers had deserted, and were gone to Panama, to carry news of their arrival and invasion. These thirty men alone remained of three hundred and fourteen wherewith the castle was garrisoned, among which not one officer was found alive. These were all made prisoners, and compelled to tell whatever they knew of their designs and enterprises. Among other things, that the governor of Panama had notice sent him three weeks ago from Carthagena, that the English were equipping a fleet at Hispaniola, with a design to take Panama; and, beside, that this had been discovered by a deserter from the pirates at the river De la Hacha, where they had victualled. That upon this, the governor had sent one hundred and sixty-four men to strengthen the garrison of that castle, with much provision and ammunition; the ordinary garrison whereof was only one hundred and fifty men, but these made up two hundred and fourteen men, very well armed. Besides this, they declared that the governor of Panama had placed several ambuscades along the river of Chagre; and that he waited for them in the open fields of Panama with three thousand six hundred men. The taking of this castle cost the pirates excessively dear, in comparison to what they were wont to lose, and their toil and labour was greater than at the conquest of the isle of St. Catherine; for, numbering their men, they had lost above a hundred, beside seventy wounded. They commanded the Spanish prisoners to cast the dead bodies of their own men from the top of the mountain to the seaside, and to bury them. The wounded were carried to the church, of which they made an hospital, and where also they shut up the women. Captain Morgan remained not long behind at St. Catherine's, after taking the castle of Chagre, of which he had notice presently; but before he departed, he embarked all the provisions that could be found, with much maize, or Indian wheat, and cazave, whereof also is made bread in those ports. He transported great store of provisions to the garrison of Chagre, whencesoever they could be got. At a certain place they cast into the sea all the guns belonging thereto, designing to return, and leave that island well garrisoned, to the perpetual possession of the pirates; but he ordered all the houses and forts to be fired, except the castle of St. Teresa, which he judged to be the strongest and securest wherein to fortify himself at his return from Panama. Having completed his arrangements, he took with him all the prisoners of the island, and then sailed for Chagre, where he arrived in eight days. Here the joy of the whole fleet was so great, when they spied the English colours on the castle, that they minded not their way into the river, so that they lost four ships at the entry thereof, Captain Morgan's being one; yet they saved all the men and goods. The ships, too, had been preserved, if a strong northerly wind had not risen, which cast them on the rock at the entry of the river. Captain Morgan was brought into the castle with great acclamations of all the pirates, both of those within, and those newly come. Having heard the manner of the conquest, he commanded all the prisoners to work, and repair what was necessary, especially to set up new palisades round the forts of the castle. There were still in the river some Spanish vessels, called chatten, serving for transportation of merchandise up and down the river, and to go to Puerto Bello and Nicaragua. These commonly carry two great guns of iron, and four small ones of brass. These vessels they seized, with four little ships they found there, and all the canoes. In the castle they left a garrison of five hundred men, and in the ships in the river one hundred and fifty more. This done, Captain Morgan departed for Panama at the head of twelve hundred men. He carried little provisions with him, hoping to provide himself sufficiently among the Spaniards, whom he knew to lie in ambuscade by the way. CHAPTER XVII _Captain Morgan departs from Chagre, at the head of twelve hundred men, to take the city of Panama._ CAPTAIN MORGAN set forth from the castle of Chagre, towards Panama, August 18, 1670. He had with him twelve hundred men, five boats laden with artillery, and thirty-two canoes. The first day they sailed only six leagues, and came to a place called De los Bracos. Here a party of his men went ashore, only to sleep and stretch their limbs, being almost crippled with lying too much crowded in the boats. Having rested awhile, they went abroad to seek victuals in the neighbouring plantations; but they could find none, the Spaniards being fled, and carrying with them all they had. This day, being the first of their journey, they had such scarcity of victuals, as the greatest part were forced to pass with only a pipe of tobacco, without any other refreshment. Next day, about evening, they came to a place called Cruz de Juan Gallego. Here they were compelled to leave their boats and canoes, the river being very dry for want of rain, and many trees having fallen into it. The guides told them, that, about two leagues farther, the country would be very good to continue the journey by land. Hereupon they left one hundred and sixty men on board the boats, to defend them, that they might serve for a refuge in necessity. Next morning, being the third day, they all went ashore, except those who were to keep the boats. To these Captain Morgan gave order, under great penalties, that no man, on any pretext whatever, should dare to leave the boats, and go ashore; fearing lest they should be surprised by an ambuscade of Spaniards in the neighbouring woods, which appeared so thick as to seem almost impenetrable. This morning beginning their march, the ways proved so bad, that Captain Morgan thought it more convenient to transport some of the men in canoes (though with great labour) to a place farther up the river, called Cedro Bueno. Thus they re-embarked, and the canoes returned for the rest; so that about night they got altogether at the said place. The pirates much desired to meet some Spaniards or Indians, hoping to fill their bellies with their provisions, being reduced to extremity and hunger. The fourth day the greatest part of the pirates marched by land, being led by one of the guides; the rest went by water farther up, being conducted by another guide, who always went before them, to discover, on both sides the river, the ambuscades. These had also spies, who were very dextrous to give notice of all accidents, or of the arrival of the pirates, six hours, at least, before they came. This day, about noon, they came near a post called Torna Cavallos: here the guide of the canoes cried out, that he perceived an ambuscade. His voice caused infinite joy to all the pirates, hoping to find some provisions to satiate their extreme hunger. Being come to the place, they found nobody in it, the Spaniards being fled, and leaving nothing behind but a few leathern bags, all empty, and a few crumbs of bread scattered on the ground where they had eaten. Being angry at this, they pulled down a few little huts which the Spaniards had made, and fell to eating the leathern bags, to allay the ferment of their stomachs, which was now so sharp as to gnaw their very bowels. Thus they made a huge banquet upon these bags of leather, divers quarrels arising concerning the greatest shares. By the bigness of the place, they conjectured about five hundred Spaniards had been there, whom, finding no victuals, they were now infinitely desirous to meet, intending to devour some of them rather than perish. Having feasted themselves with those pieces of leather, they marched on, till they came about night to another post, called Torna Munni. Here they found another ambuscade, but as barren as the former. They searched the neighbouring woods, but could not find anything to eat, the Spaniards having been so provident, as not to leave anywhere the least crumb of sustenance, whereby the pirates were now brought to this extremity. Here again he was happy that had reserved since noon any bit of leather to make his supper of, drinking after it a good draught of water for his comfort. Some, who never were out of their mothers' kitchens, may ask, how these pirates could eat and digest those pieces of leather, so hard and dry? Whom I answer, that, could they once experiment what hunger, or rather famine, is, they would find the way as the pirates did. For these first sliced it in pieces, then they beat it between two stones, and rubbed it, often dipping it in water, to make it supple and tender. Lastly, they scraped off the hair, and broiled it. Being thus cooked, they cut it into small morsels, and ate it, helping it down with frequent gulps of water, which, by good fortune, they had at hand. The fifth day, about noon, they came to a place called Barbacoa. Here they found traces of another ambuscade, but the place totally as unprovided as the former. At a small distance were several plantations, which they searched very narrowly, but could not find any person, animal, or other thing, to relieve their extreme hunger. Finally, having ranged about, and searched a long time, they found a grot, which seemed to be but lately hewn out of a rock, where were two sacks of meal, wheat, and like things, with two great jars of wine, and certain fruits called platanoes. Captain Morgan, knowing some of his men were now almost dead with hunger, and fearing the same of the rest, caused what was found to be distributed among them who were in greatest necessity. Having refreshed themselves with these victuals, they marched anew with greater courage than ever. Such as were weak were put into the canoes, and those commanded to land that were in them before. Thus they prosecuted their journey till late at night; when coming to a plantation, they took up their rest, but without eating anything; for the Spaniards, as before, had swept away all manner of provisions. The sixth day they continued their march, part by land and part by water. Howbeit, they were constrained to rest very frequently, both for the ruggedness of the way, and their extreme weakness, which they endeavoured to relieve by eating leaves of trees and green herbs, or grass; such was their miserable condition. This day at noon they arrived at a plantation, where was a barn full of maize. Immediately they beat down the doors and ate it dry, as much as they could devour; then they distributed a great quantity, giving every man a good allowance. Thus provided, and prosecuting their journey for about an hour, they came to another ambuscade. This they no sooner discovered, but they threw away their maize, with the sudden hopes of finding all things in abundance. But they were much deceived, meeting neither Indians nor victuals, nor anything else: but they saw, on the other side of the river, about a hundred Indians, who, all fleeing, escaped. Some few pirates leaped into the river to cross it, and try to take any of the Indians, but in vain: for, being much more nimble than the pirates, they not only baffled them, but killed two or three with their arrows; hooting at them, and crying, "Ha, perros! a la savana, a la savana."--"Ha, ye dogs! go to the plain, go to the plain." This day they could advance no farther, being necessitated to pass the river, to continue their march on the other side. Hereupon they reposed for that night, though their sleep was not profound; for great murmurings were made at Captain Morgan, and his conduct; some being desirous to return home, while others would rather die there than go back a step from their undertaking: others, who had greater courage, laughed and joked at their discourses. Meanwhile, they had a guide who much comforted them, saying, "It would not now be long before they met with people from whom they should reap some considerable advantage." The seventh day, in the morning, they made clean their arms, and every one discharged his pistol, or musket, without bullet, to try their firelocks. This done, they crossed the river, leaving the post where they had rested, called Santa Cruz, and at noon they arrived at a village called Cruz. Being yet far from the place, they perceived much smoke from the chimneys: the sight hereof gave them great joy, and hopes of finding people and plenty of good cheer. Thus they went on as fast as they could, encouraging one another, saying, "There is smoke comes out of every house: they are making good fires, to roast and boil what we are to eat;" and the like. At length they arrived there, all sweating and panting, but found no person in the town, nor anything eatable to refresh themselves, except good fires, which they wanted not; for the Spaniards, before their departure, had every one set fire to his own house, except the king's storehouses and stables. They had not left behind them any beast, alive or dead, which much troubled their minds, not finding anything but a few cats and dogs, which they immediately killed and devoured. At last, in the king's stables, they found, by good fortune, fifteen or sixteen jars of Peru wine, and a leathern sack full of bread. No sooner had they drank of this wine, when they fell sick, almost every man: this made them think the wine was poisoned, which caused a new consternation in the whole camp, judging themselves now to be irrecoverably lost. But the true reason was, their want of sustenance, and the manifold sorts of trash they had eaten. Their sickness was so great, as caused them to remain there till the next morning, without being able to prosecute their journey in the afternoon. This village is seated in 9 deg. 2 min. north latitude, distant from the river Chagre twenty-six Spanish leagues, and eight from Panama. This is the last place to which boats or canoes can come; for which reason they built here storehouses for all sorts of merchandise, which to and from Panama are transported on the backs of mules. Here Captain Morgan was forced to leaves his canoes, and land all his men, though never so weak; but lest the canoes should be surprised, or take up too many men for their defence, he sent them all back to the place where the boats were, except one, which he hid, that it might serve to carry intelligence. Many of the Spaniards and Indians of this village having fled to the near plantations, Captain Morgan ordered that none should go out of the village, except companies of one hundred together, fearing lest the enemy should take an advantage upon his men. Notwithstanding, one party contravened these orders, being tempted with the desire of victuals: but they were soon glad to fly into the town again, being assaulted with great fury by some Spaniards and Indians, who carried one of them away prisoner. Thus the vigilancy and care of Captain Morgan was not sufficient to prevent every accident. The eighth day in the morning Captain Morgan sent two hundred men before the body of his army, to discover the way to Panama, and any ambuscades therein: the path being so narrow, that only ten or twelve persons could march abreast, and often not so many. After ten hours' march they came to a place called Quebrada Obscura: here, all on a sudden, three or four thousand arrows were shot at them, they not perceiving whence they came, or who shot them: though they presumed it was from a high rocky mountain, from one side to the other, whereon was a grot, capable of but one horse or other beast laded. This multitude of arrows much alarmed the pirates, especially because they could not discover whence they were discharged. At last, seeing no more arrows, they marched a little farther, and entered a wood: here they perceived some Indians to fly as fast as they could, to take the advantage of another post, thence to observe their march; yet there remained one troop of Indians on the place, resolved to fight and defend themselves, which they did with great courage till their captain fell down wounded; who, though he despaired of life, yet his valour being greater than his strength, would ask no quarter, but, endeavouring to raise himself, with undaunted mind laid hold of his azagayo, or javelin, and struck at one of the pirates; but before he could second the blow, he was shot to death. This was also the fate of many of his companions, who, like good soldiers, lost their lives with their captain, for the defence of their country. The pirates endeavoured to take some of the Indians prisoners, but they being swifter than the pirates, every one escaped, leaving eight pirates dead, and ten wounded: yea, had the Indians been more dextrous in military affairs, they might have defended that passage, and not let one man pass. A little while after they came to a large champaign, open, and full of fine meadows; hence they could perceive at a distance before them some Indians, on the top of a mountain, near the way by which they were to pass: they sent fifty men, the nimblest they had, to try to catch any of them, and force them to discover their companions: but all in vain; for they escaped by their nimbleness, and presently showed themselves in another place, hallooing to the English, and crying, "A la savana, a la savana, perros Ingleses!" that is, "To the plain, to the plain, ye English dogs!" Meanwhile the ten pirates that were wounded were dressed, and plastered up. Here was a wood, and on each side a mountain. The Indians possessed themselves of one, and the pirates of the other. Captain Morgan was persuaded the Spaniards had placed an ambuscade there, it lying so conveniently: hereupon, he sent two hundred men to search it. The Spaniards and Indians perceiving the pirates descend the mountain, did so too, as if they designed to attack them; but being got into the wood, out of sight of the pirates, they were seen no more, leaving the passage open. About night fell a great rain, which caused the pirates to march the faster, and seek for houses to preserve their arms from being wet; but the Indians had set fire to every one, and driven away all their cattle, that the pirates, finding neither houses nor victuals, might be constrained to return: but, after diligent search, they found a few shepherds' huts, but in them nothing to eat. These not holding many men, they placed in them, out of every company, a small number, who kept the arms of the rest: those who remained in the open field endured much hardship that night, the rain not ceasing till morning. Next morning, about break of day, being the ninth of that tedious journey, Captain Morgan marched on while the fresh air of the morning lasted; for the clouds hanging yet over their heads, were much more favourable than the scorching rays of the sun, the way being now more difficult than before. After two hours' march, they discovered about twenty Spaniards, who observed their motions: they endeavoured to catch some of them, but could not, they suddenly disappearing, and absconding themselves in caves among the rocks, unknown to the pirates. At last, ascending a high mountain, they discovered the South Sea. This happy sight, as if it were the end of their labours, caused infinite joy among them: hence they could descry also one ship, and six boats, which were set forth from Panama, and sailed towards the islands of Tavoga and Tavogilla: then they came to a vale where they found much cattle, whereof they killed good store: here, while some killed and flayed cows, horses, bulls, and chiefly asses, of which there were most; others kindled fires, and got wood to roast them: then cutting the flesh into convenient pieces, or gobbets, they threw them into the fire, and, half carbonaded or roasted, they devoured them, with incredible haste and appetite; such was their hunger, as they more resembled cannibals than Europeans; the blood many times running down from their beards to their waists. Having satisfied their hunger, Captain Morgan ordered them to continue the march. Here, again, he sent before the main body fifty men to take some prisoners, if they could; for he was much concerned, that in nine days he could not meet one person to inform him of the condition and forces of the Spaniards. About evening they discovered about two hundred Spaniards, who hallooed to the pirates, but they understood not what they said. A little while after they came in sight of the highest steeple of Panama: this they no sooner discovered but they showed signs of extreme joy, casting up their hats into the air, leaping and shouting, just as if they had already obtained the victory, and accomplished their designs. All their trumpets sounded, and drums beat, in token of this alacrity of their minds: thus they pitched their camp for that night, with general content of the whole army, waiting with impatience for the morning, when they intended to attack the city. This evening appeared fifty horse, who came out of the city, on the noise of the drums and trumpets, to observe, as it was thought, their motions: they came almost within musket-shot of the army, with a trumpet that sounded marvellously well. Those on horseback hallooed aloud to the pirates, and threatened them, saying, "Perros! nos veremos," that is, "Ye dogs! we shall meet ye." Having made this menace, they returned to the city, except only seven or eight horsemen, who hovered thereabouts to watch their motions. Immediately after the city fired, and ceased not to play their biggest guns all night long against the camp, but with little or no harm to the pirates, whom they could not easily reach. Now also the two hundred Spaniards, whom the pirates had seen in the afternoon, appeared again, making a show of blocking up the passages, that no pirates might escape their hands: but the pirates, though in a manner besieged, instead of fearing their blockades, as soon as they had placed sentinels about their camp, opened their satchels, and, without any napkins or plates, fell to eating, very heartily, the pieces of bulls' and horses' flesh which they had reserved since noon. This done, they laid themselves down to sleep on the grass, with great repose and satisfaction, expecting only, with impatience, the dawning of the next day. The tenth day, betimes in the morning, they put all their men in order, and, with drums and trumpets sounding, marched directly towards the city; but one of the guides desired Captain Morgan not to take the common highway, lest they should find in it many ambuscades. He took his advice, and chose another way through the wood, though very irksome and difficult. The Spaniards perceiving the pirates had taken another way they scarce had thought on, were compelled to leave their stops and batteries, and come out to meet them. The governor of Panama put his forces in order, consisting of two squadrons, four regiments of foot, and a huge number of wild bulls, which were driven by a great number of Indians, with some negroes, and others, to help them. The pirates, now upon their march, came to the top of a little hill, whence they had a large prospect of the city and champaign country underneath. Here they discovered the forces of the people of Panama, in battle array, to be so numerous, that they were surprised with fear, much doubting the fortune of the day: yea, few or none there were but wished themselves at home, or at least free from the obligation of that engagement, it so nearly concerning their lives. Having been some time wavering in their minds, they at last reflected on the straits they had brought themselves into, and that now they must either fight resolutely, or die; for no quarter could be expected from an enemy on whom they had committed so many cruelties. Hereupon they encouraged one another, resolving to conquer, or spend the last drop of blood. Then they divided themselves into three battalions, sending before two hundred bucaniers, who were very dextrous at their guns. Then descending the hill, they marched directly towards the Spaniards, who in a spacious field waited for their coming. As soon as they drew nigh, the Spaniards began to shout and cry, "Viva el rey!" "God save the king!" and immediately their horse moved against the pirates: but the fields being full of quags, and soft underfoot, they could not wheel about as they desired. The two hundred bucaniers, who went before, each putting one knee to the ground, began the battle briskly, with a full volley of shot: the Spaniards defended themselves courageously, doing all they could to disorder the pirates. Their foot endeavoured to second the horse, but were constrained by the pirates to leave them. Finding themselves baffled, they attempted to drive the bulls against them behind, to put them into disorder; but the wild cattle ran away, frighted with the noise of the battle; only some few broke through the English companies, and only tore the colours in pieces, while the bucaniers shot every one of them dead. The battle having continued two hours, the greatest part of the Spanish horse was ruined, and almost all killed: the rest fled, which the foot seeing, and that they could not possibly prevail, they discharged the shot they had in their muskets, and throwing them down, fled away, every one as he could. The pirates could not follow them, being too much harassed and wearied with their long journey. Many, not being able to fly whither they desired, hid themselves, for that present, among the shrubs of the sea-side, but very unfortunately; for most of them being found by the pirates, were instantly killed, without any quarter. Some religious men were brought prisoners before Captain Morgan; but he, being deaf to their cries, commanded them all to be pistolled, which was done. Soon after they brought a captain to him, whom he examined very strictly; particularly, wherein consisted the forces of those of Panama? He answered, their whole strength consisted in four hundred horse, twenty-four companies of foot, each of one hundred men complete; sixty Indians, and some negroes, who were to drive two thousand wild bulls upon the English, and thus, by breaking their files, put them into a total disorder: beside, that in the city they had made trenches, and raised batteries in several places, in all which they had placed many guns; and that at the entry of the highway, leading to the city, they had built a fort mounted with eight great brass guns, defended by fifty men. Captain Morgan having heard this, gave orders instantly to march another way; but first he made a review of his men, whereof he found both killed and wounded a considerable number, and much greater than had been believed. Of the Spaniards were found six hundred dead on the place, besides the wounded and prisoners. The pirates, nothing discouraged, seeing their number so diminished, but rather filled with greater pride, perceiving what huge advantage they had obtained against their enemies, having rested some time, prepared to march courageously towards the city, plighting their oaths to one another, that they would fight till not a man was left alive. With this courage they recommenced their march, either to conquer or be conquered; carrying with them all the prisoners. They found much difficulty in their approach to the city, for within the town the Spaniards had placed many great guns, at several quarters, some charged with small pieces of iron, and others with musket bullets; with all these they saluted the pirates at their approaching, and gave them full and frequent broadsides, firing at them incessantly; so that unavoidably they lost at every step great numbers of men. But these manifest dangers of their lives, nor the sight of so many as dropped continually at their sides, could deter them from advancing, and gaining ground every moment on the enemy; and though the Spaniards never ceased to fire, and act the best they could for their defence, yet they were forced to yield, after three hours' combat. And the pirates having possessed themselves, killed and destroyed all that attempted in the least to oppose them. The inhabitants had transported the best of their goods to more remote and occult places; howbeit, they found in the city several warehouses well stocked with merchandise, as well silks and cloths, as linen and other things of value. As soon as the first fury of their entrance was over, Captain Morgan assembled his men, and commanded them, under great penalties, not to drink or taste any wine; and the reason he gave for it was, because he had intelligence that it was all poisoned by the Spaniards. Howbeit, it was thought he gave these prudent orders to prevent the debauchery of his people, which he foresaw would be very great at the first, after so much hunger sustained by the way; fearing, withal, lest the Spaniards, seeing them in wine, should rally, and, falling on the city, use them as inhumanly as they had used the inhabitants before. CHAPTER XVIII _Captain Morgan sends canoes and boats to the South Sea--He fires the city of Panama--Robberies and cruelties committed there by the pirates, till their return to the Castle of Chagre._ CAPTAIN MORGAN, as soon as he had placed necessary guards at several quarters within and without the city, commanded twenty-five men to seize a great boat, which had stuck in the mud of the port, for want of water, at a low tide. The same day about noon, he caused fire privately to be set to several great edifices of the city, nobody knowing who were the authors thereof, much less on what motives Captain Morgan did it, which are unknown to this day: the fire increased so, that before night the greatest part of the city was in a flame. Captain Morgan pretended the Spaniards had done it, perceiving that his own people reflected on him for that action. Many of the Spaniards, and some of the pirates, did what they could, either to quench the flame, or, by blowing up houses with gunpowder, and pulling down others, to stop it, but in vain: for in less than half an hour it consumed a whole street. All the houses of the city were built with cedar, very curious and magnificent, and richly adorned, especially with hangings and paintings, whereof part were before removed, and another great part were consumed by fire. There were in this city (which is the see of a bishop) eight monasteries, seven for men, and one for women; two stately churches, and one hospital. The churches and monasteries were all richly adorned with altar-pieces and paintings, much gold and silver, and other precious things, all which the ecclesiastics had hidden. Besides which, here were two thousand houses of magnificent building, the greatest part inhabited by merchants vastly rich. For the rest of less quality, and tradesmen, this city contained five thousand more. Here were also many stables for the horses and mules that carry the plate of the king of Spain, as well as private men, towards the North Sea. The neighbouring fields are full of fertile plantations and pleasant gardens, affording delicious prospects to the inhabitants all the year. [Illustration: "'MORGAN RE-ENTERED THE CITY WITH HIS TROOPS'"--_Page 215_] The Genoese had in this city a stately house for their trade of negroes. This likewise was by Captain Morgan burnt to the very ground. Besides which building, there were consumed two hundred warehouses, and many slaves, who had hid themselves therein, with innumerable sacks of meal; the fire of which continued four weeks after it had begun. The greatest part of the pirates still encamped without the city, fearing and expecting the Spaniards would come and fight them anew, it being known they much outnumbered the pirates. This made them keep the field, to preserve their forces united, now much diminished by their losses. Their wounded, which were many, they put into one church, which remained standing, the rest being consumed by the fire. Besides these decreases of their men, Captain Morgan had sent a convoy of one hundred and fifty men to the castle of Chagre, to carry the news of his victory at Panama. They saw often whole troops of Spaniards run to and fro in the fields, which made them suspect their rallying, which they never had the courage to do. In the afternoon Captain Morgan re-entered the city with his troops, that every one might take up their lodgings, which now they could hardly find, few houses having escaped the fire. Then they sought very carefully among the ruins and ashes, for utensils of plate or gold, that were not quite wasted by the flames: and of such they found no small number, especially in wells and cisterns, where the Spaniards had hid them. Next day Captain Morgan dispatched away two troops, of one hundred and fifty men each, stout and well armed, to seek for the inhabitants who were escaped. These having made several excursions up and down the fields, woods, and mountains adjacent, returned after two days, bringing above two hundred prisoners, men, women, and slaves. The same day returned also the boat which Captain Morgan had sent to the South Sea, bringing three other boats which they had taken. But all these prizes they could willingly have given, and greater labour into the bargain, for one galleon, which miraculously escaped, richly laden with all the king's plate, jewels, and other precious goods of the best and richest merchants of Panama: on board which were also the religious women of the nunnery, who had embarked with them all the ornaments of their church, consisting in much gold, plate, and other things of great value. The strength of this galleon was inconsiderable, having only seven guns, and ten or twelve muskets, and very ill provided with victuals, necessaries, and fresh water, having no more sails than the uppermost of the mainmast. This account the pirates received from some one who had spoken with seven mariners belonging to the galleon, who came ashore in the cockboat for fresh water. Hence they concluded they might easily have taken it, had they given her chase, as they should have done; but they were impeded from following this vastly rich prize, by their gluttony and drunkenness, having plentifully debauched themselves with several rich wines they found ready, choosing rather to satiate their appetites than to lay hold on such huge advantage; since this only prize would have been of far greater value than all they got at Panama, and the places thereabout. Next day, repenting of their negligence, being weary of their vices and debaucheries, they set forth another boat, well armed, to pursue with all speed the said galleon; but in vain, the Spaniards who were on board having had intelligence of their own danger one or two days before, while the pirates were cruising so near them; whereupon they fled to places more remote and unknown. The pirates found, in the ports of the island of Tavoga and Tavogilla, several boats laden with very good merchandise; all which they took, and brought to Panama, where they made an exact relation of all that had passed to Captain Morgan. The prisoners confirmed what the pirates said, adding, that they undoubtedly knew where the galleon might then be, but that it was very probable they had been relieved before now from other places. This stirred up Captain Morgan anew, to send forth all the boats in the port of Panama to seek the said galleon till they could find her. These boats, being in all four, after eight days' cruising to and fro, and searching several ports and creeks, lost all hopes of finding her: hereupon they returned to Tavoga and Tavogilla; here they found a reasonable good ship newly come from Payta, laden with cloth, soap, sugar, and biscuit, with 20,000 pieces of eight; this they instantly seized, without the least resistance; as also a boat which was not far off, on which they laded great part of the merchandises from the ship, with some slaves. With this purchase they returned to Panama, somewhat better satisfied; yet, withal, much discontented that they could not meet with the galleon. The convoy which Captain Morgan had sent to the castle of Chagre returned much about the same time, bringing with them very good news; for while Captain Morgan was on his journey to Panama, those he had left in the castle of Chagre had sent for two boats to cruise. These met with a Spanish ship, which they chased within sight of the castle. This being perceived by the pirates in the castle, they put forth Spanish colours, to deceive the ship that fled before the boats; and the poor Spaniards, thinking to take refuge under the castle, were caught in a snare, and made prisoners. The cargo on board the said vessel consisted in victuals and provisions, than which nothing could be more opportune for the castle, where they began already to want things of this kind. This good luck of those of Chagre caused Captain Morgan to stay longer at Panama, ordering several new excursions into the country round about; and while the pirates at Panama were upon these expeditions, those at Chagre were busy in piracies on the North Sea. Captain Morgan sent forth, daily, parties of two hundred men, to make inroads into all the country round about; and when one party came back, another went forth, who soon gathered much riches, and many prisoners. These being brought into the city, were put to the most exquisite tortures, to make them confess both other people's goods and their own. Here it happened that one poor wretch was found in the house of a person of quality, who had put on, amidst the confusion, a pair of taffety breeches of his master's, with a little silver key hanging out; perceiving which, they asked him for the cabinet of the said key. His answer was, he knew not what was become of it, but that finding those breeches in his master's house, he had made bold to wear them. Not being able to get any other answer, they put him on the rack, and inhumanly disjointed his arms; then they twisted a cord about his forehead, which they wrung so hard that his eyes appeared as big as eggs, and were ready to fall out. But with these torments not obtaining any positive answer, they hung him up by the wrists, giving him many blows and stripes under that intolerable pain and posture of body. Afterwards they cut off his nose and ears, and singed his face with burning straw, till he could not speak, nor lament his misery any longer: then, losing all hopes of any confession, they bade a negro run him through, which put an end to his life, and to their inhuman tortures. Thus did many others of those miserable prisoners finish their days, the common sport and recreation of these pirates being such tragedies. Captain Morgan having now been at Panama full three weeks, commanded all things to be prepared for his departure. He ordered every company of men to seek so many beasts of carriage as might convey the spoil to the river where his canoes lay. About this time there was a great rumour, that a considerable number of pirates intended to leave Captain Morgan; and that, taking a ship then in port, they determined to go and rob on the South Sea, till they had got as much as they thought fit, and then return homewards, by way of the East Indies. For which purpose they had gathered much provisions, which they had hid in private places, with sufficient powder, bullets, and all other ammunition: likewise some great guns belonging to the town, muskets, and other things, wherewith they designed not only to equip their vessel, but to fortify themselves in some island which might serve them for a place of refuge. This design had certainly taken effect, had not Captain Morgan had timely advice of it from one of their comrades: hereupon he commanded the mainmast of the said ship to be cut down and burnt, with all the other boats in the port: hereby the intentions of all or most of his companions were totally frustrated. Then Captain Morgan sent many of the Spaniards into the adjoining fields and country to seek for money, to ransom not only themselves, but the rest of the prisoners, as likewise the ecclesiastics. Moreover, he commanded all the artillery of the town to be nailed and stopped up. At the same time he sent out a strong company of men to seek for the governor of Panama, of whom intelligence was brought, that he had laid several ambuscades in the way by which he ought to return: but they returned soon after, saying they had not found any sign of any such ambuscades. For confirmation whereof, they brought some prisoners, who declared that the said governor had had an intention of making some opposition by the way, but that the men designed to effect it were unwilling to undertake it: so that for want of means he could not put his design in execution. February 24, 1671, Captain Morgan departed from Panama, or rather from the place where the city of Panama stood; of the spoils whereof he carried with him one hundred and seventy-five beasts of carriage, laden with silver, gold, and other precious things, beside about six hundred prisoners, men, women, children and slaves. That day they came to a river that passes through a delicious plain, a league from Panama: here Captain Morgan put all his forces into good order, so as that the prisoners were in the middle, surrounded on all sides with pirates, where nothing else was to be heard but lamentations, cries, shrieks, and doleful sighs of so many women and children, who feared Captain Morgan designed to transport them all into his own country for slaves. Besides, all those miserable prisoners endured extreme hunger and thirst at that time, which misery Captain Morgan designedly caused them to sustain, to excite them to seek for money to ransom themselves, according to the tax he had set upon every one. Many of the women begged Captain Morgan, on their knees, with infinite sighs and tears, to let them return to Panama, there to live with their dear husbands and children in little huts of straw, which they would erect, seeing they had no houses till the rebuilding of the city. But his answer was, "He came not thither to hear lamentations and cries, but to seek money: therefore they ought first to seek out that, wherever it was to be had, and bring it to him; otherwise he would assuredly transport them all to such places whither they cared not to go." Next day, when the march began, those lamentable cries and shrieks were renewed, so as it would have caused compassion in the hardest heart: but Captain Morgan, as a man little given to mercy, was not moved in the least. They marched in the same order as before, one party of the pirates in the van, the prisoners in the middle, and the rest of the pirates in the rear; by whom the miserable Spaniards were at every step punched and thrust in their backs and sides, with the blunt ends of their arms, to make them march faster. A beautiful lady, wife to one of the richest merchants of Tavoga, was led prisoner by herself, between two pirates. Her lamentations pierced the skies, seeing herself carried away into captivity often crying to the pirates, and telling them, "That she had given orders to two religious persons, in whom she had relied, to go to a certain place, and fetch so much money as her ransom did amount to; that they had promised faithfully to do it, but having obtained the money, instead of bringing it to her, they had employed it another way, to ransom some of their own, and particular friends." This ill action of theirs was discovered by a slave, who brought a letter to the said lady. Her complaints, and the cause thereof, being brought to Captain Morgan, he thought fit to inquire thereinto. Having found it to be true--especially hearing it confirmed by the confession of the said religious men, though under some frivolous exercises of having diverted the money but for a day or two, in which time they expected more sums to repay it--he gave liberty to the said lady, whom otherwise he designed to transport to Jamaica. But he detained the said religious men as prisoners in her place, using them according to their deserts. Captain Morgan arriving at the town called Cruz, on the banks of the river Chagre, he published an order among the prisoners, that within three days every one should bring in their ransom, under the penalty of being transported to Jamaica. Meanwhile he gave orders for so much rice and maize to be collected thereabouts, as was necessary for victualling his ships. Here some of the prisoners were ransomed, but many others could not bring in their money. Hereupon he continued his voyage, leaving the village on the 5th of March following, carrying with him all the spoil he could. Hence he likewise led away some new prisoners, inhabitants there, with those in Panama, who had not paid their ransoms. But the two religious men, who had diverted the lady's money, were ransomed three days after by other persons, who had more compassion for them than they had showed for her. About the middle of the way to Chagre, Captain Morgan commanded them to be mustered, and caused every one to be sworn, that they had concealed nothing, even not to the value of sixpence. This done, Captain Morgan knowing those lewd fellows would not stick to swear falsely for interest, he commanded every one to be searched very strictly, both in their clothes and satchels, and elsewhere. Yea, that this order might not be ill taken by his companions, he permitted himself to be searched, even to his very shoes. To this effect, by common consent, one was assigned out of every company to be searchers of the rest. The French pirates that assisted on this expedition disliked this new practice of searching; but, being outnumbered by the English, they were forced to submit as well as the rest. The search being over, they re-embarked, and arrived at the castle of Chagre on the 9th of March. Here they found all things in good order, excepting the wounded men whom they had left at their departure; for of these the greatest number were dead of their wounds. From Chagre, Captain Morgan sent, presently after his arrival, a great boat to Puerto Bello, with all the prisoners taken at the isle of St. Catherine, demanding of them a considerable ransom for the castle of Chagre, where he then was; threatening otherwise to ruin it. To this those of Puerto Bello answered, they would not give one farthing towards the ransom of the said castle, and the English might do with it as they pleased. Hereupon the dividend was made of all the spoil made in that voyage; every company, and every particular person therein, receiving their proportion, or rather what part thereof Captain Morgan pleased to give them. For the rest of his companions, even of his own nation, murmured at his proceedings, and told him to his face that he had reserved the best jewels to himself: for they judged it impossible that no greater share should belong to them than two hundred pieces of eight, per capita, of so many valuable plunders they had made; which small sum they thought too little for so much labour, and such dangers, as they had been exposed to. But Captain Morgan was deaf to all this, and many other like complaints, having designed to cheat them of what he could. At last, finding himself obnoxious to many censures of his people, and fearing the consequence, he thought it unsafe to stay any longer at Chagre, but ordered the ordnance of the castle to be carried on board his ship; then he caused most of the walls to be demolished, the edifices to be burnt, and as many other things ruined as could be done in a short time. This done, he went secretly on board his own ship, without giving any notice to his companions, and put out to sea, being only followed by three or four vessels of the whole fleet. These were such (as the French pirates believed) as went shares with Captain Morgan in the best part of the spoil, which had been concealed from them in the dividend. The Frenchmen could willingly have revenged themselves on Captain Morgan and his followers, had they been able to encounter him at sea; but they were destitute of necessaries, and had much ado to find sufficient provisions for their voyage to Jamaica, he having left them unprovided for all things. THE END * * * * * Transcriber's Notes: Obvious punctuation errors were corrected. This text uses both main-mast and mainmast; French-man and Frenchman; sea-side and seaside; such-like and suchlike. Page xiii, "Robinsoe" changed to "Robinson" (Robinson Crusoe) Page xx, "West-Indies" was removed from the italics to match rest of usage (dominions of the_ West-Indies) Page xxi, "Soudiers" changed to "Souldiers" (either Souldiers or) Page xxi, "fortifie" moved into italics to match rest of usage (_both fortifie themselves) Page 9, "of" changed to "or" (or China root) Page 89, "chief" changed to "chiefs" (of the chiefs) Page 95, "fish" changed to "flesh" (eat human flesh) Page 116, "el" changed to "El" (of El Puerto del) Page 199, "then" changed to "than" (courage than ever) 
52210	----	Google Books (Harvard College) Transcriber's Notes: 1. Page scan source: Google Books https://books.google.com/books?id=oCQNAAAAYAAJ (Harvard College) 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. THE HISPANIOLA PLATE. The Hispaniola Plate. (1683-1893) BY JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON --------- "We passed the tropics, as near as we could guess, just where the famous Sir William Phips fished up the silver from the Spanish Plate wreck."--DEFOE ("Colonel Jack"). --------- NEW YORK THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO. 31 Union Square, North Copyright, 1895, by THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO. _All rights reserved_. To those OFFICERS OF THE ROYAL NAVY WITH WHOM I HAVE, FOR SOME YEARS, SPENT MANY PLEASANT WEEKS ANNUALLY DURING THE NAVAL MAN[OE]UVRES, WHILE ACTING AS SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT OF _THE STANDARD_, I VENTURE TO INSCRIBE, WITH GREAT CORDIALITY, THIS STORY-- PARTLY TRUE AND PARTLY FICTITIOUS--OF Captain, Sir William Phips, R.N., And of Lieutenants Nicholas and Reginald Crafer, R.N. PREFACE. Most of the maps of the West Indies published during the first half of the present century and anterior to that date mark distinctly the spot where the following story principally takes place. Thirty miles due north of Cape Français, on the north coast of San Domingo, is a reef entitled "Bajo de la Plata, or Phips's Plate," while more modern maps simply describe it as "Silver Bank." This is, of course, the spot where Sir William Phips--a now forgotten figure in history--obtained the plate mentioned by Defoe; and, so far as I am aware, there is but one detailed account in existence of how he found and secured that plate. This account is contained in a duodecimo volume entitled "_Pietas in Patriam_: the Life of Sir William Phips," published in London in 1697 anonymously, but guaranteed as accurate by several people who knew him. A production entitled "The Library of American Biography," edited by one Jared Sparks, also professes to give an accurate biography of Phips, but it is simply a garbled and mangled copy of the London publication. I should also mention that the "Biographia Britannica" refers to the expedition in the article on "Christopher Monk, second Duke of Albemarle." So does a work of the last century entitled "The Lives of the Admirals," by Lawrence Echard, and so also do some encyclopædias; but all of them undoubtedly derive their information from "_Pietas in Patriam_." This work I have myself carefully followed, because in it alone are to be found the descriptions of the "Frygate Algier Rose," her eighteen guns and ninety-five men, of the various mutinies, of Alderly's arrival on the scene, of the second voyage with the tender, and so forth. Indeed, beyond the requirements of fiction the account is absolutely an account of what happened until the chase after Alderly by Nicholas Crafer, when fiction itself becomes predominant. Alderly, I should add, was as real a character as Phips himself. So was the carpenter who discovered the second mutiny. The rest, with the exception of the Duke of Albemarle, are imaginary. I may add, in conclusion, that "The Hispaniola Plate" appeared originally in _The St. James's Budget_. A NEW NOVELIST. Nothing is more notable in recent literature than the sudden renewal of interest in the historical novel. Mr. Stanley Weyman is the most successful of this group of younger writers, but there is now treading on his heels another young novelist, whose work shows such splendid promise as well as such remarkable achievement, that he bids fair to outstrip Mr. Weyman and come first to the goal. This is Mr. John Bloundelle-Burton, whose story, "The Desert Ship," created such a stir in London a short time ago. Mr. Burton was born in 1850. His parents intended him for a military life, but when at twenty-one he came into a comfortable inheritance, he determined to see something of the world. Already familiar with the Continent, he turned to fresher pastures and came to Canada; then running over the border into the "States," he lived down South for a considerable period. In Baltimore he first contracted the writing habit, sending an article to a paper there, which accepted it with thanks, but with nothing else. While down South he fell in with "Red Cloud," an Indian chief, picking up much information that was strange and new, and that was later to be utilized in "The Desert Ship." Going back to England, he flitted between London and Paris, the latter being his favorite abode. In the Place de la Madeleine he lived with a company that contained representatives of every class and country. Describing them Mr. Bloundelle-Burton says: "One of our number was a Scotch duke; another a tailor's son, enormously rich and not a bad fellow; another a Spahi, home on leave from Africa; a fourth a Spaniard, rolling in money; another an American, who afterward died in prison while awaiting his trial for killing--absolutely killing--a man in a duel. They could not get over that in Paris; indeed, as a Frenchman said to me, it really looked as if the American had fully intended to murder his countryman." Living in this way in Paris, our author began to write more and more; first for foreign papers, then for English ones. He began a connection with Galignani, which lasted intermittently for a long interval, and brought him acquaintance with many notable men, among them Jules Grévy, several years later President of the Republic. His next venture was sending English papers news from different popular resorts on the Continent--Switzerland and the Tyrol, Italy and the Riviera. Later on he helped edit a paper called _The American Visitor_, which told rich Americans where they could spend their money most rapidly, and where they had the best opportunity for catching a glimpse of fashionable society in England and on the Continent. Mr. Burton's first long story was "The Silent Shore," which had quite a career under several different guises. Originally published in volume form, it later appeared as a play at the Olympic Theater, then ran as a serial in Spanish in a South American paper, and ended up as a serial in several English provincial papers. His next story was, "His Own Enemy," in the author's opinion, the best novel he has yet produced, "though not, I hope, the best I shall write," he adds. "The Desert Ship," Mr. Burton's next book and the first to bring him genuine fame, was published by Hutchinson & Co., in London. It was received with a burst of praise from the critics, even Mr. Labouchere's sarcastic and hard-to-please paper, _Truth_, declaring it to be "an enthralling story and a book which will mark a period in the existence of anyone who is fortunate enough to get it. It is," the paper added, "as exciting as anything Verne ever wrote, and with the reality of Robert Louis Stevenson." Nothing succeeds like success, as Mr. Burton rapidly learned; editors with orders up their sleeves dropped in upon the rising young author, and he found it hard to satisfy all the demands made upon him. All this solicitation for the work of his pen resulted in a sudden literary output. Two stories appeared in quick succession: "The Gentleman Adventurer," which ran in _Young England_, and "The Adventures of Viscount Annerly," which was published in the _People_. "The Hispaniola Plate," Mr. Burton's last and strongest book, is a semi-historical story. The scene is laid in the West Indies. The two principal characters belong to the Royal Navy, one living in Cromwell's, Charles II.'s and James II.'s reigns, the other in the present day; and the way in which the two periods are blended into the one book exhibits masterly skill. Mr. Burton is a passionate lover of the sea. Descended from a line of ancestors that acquired fame in the British Navy--his grandfather, Lieutenant Jermy, was a noted old commander of English ships and participated in the battle of New Orleans in 1814--he has in his blood a taste for the salt sea wave, and this gives his stories their breezy, out-of-door atmosphere. Mr. Burton has a pleasant home just out of London at Barnes Common. Like so many other Englishmen of prominence in these days, he is married to an American woman. He is a large, broad-chested man, standing six feet, two inches and a quarter, in his shoes, with dark, piercing eyes. Mr. Burton has decided views about the true methods for literary work. He does not believe in fixing on a good subject for a novel, then selecting a picturesque period, and, after making yourself thoroughly acquainted with the manners and customs of that epoch, planting your characters in it, as is the habit of certain novelists. The story must come to you, you cannot go out and bring it in. "I never think," he says, "of producing a story laid in a period (or about persons) which I have to read up--to 'mug' up, as we used to say at school. But I have been an ardent reader of history and memoirs all my life, and the story arises naturally from periods and incidents with which I am well acquainted." "I mean," he adds, "that the story should fit into an intimate acquaintance with the _mise-en-scène_, not that the _mise-en-scène_ should be hunted up to fit the story." No one who reads this exciting story, "The Hispaniola Plate," and who is held captive by its vivid scenes, its deep, rich coloring, its overmastering air of reality, but will wish long life to this strong and original talent, which already has behind it such remarkable achievement. May we have many such books from his pen! CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Nicholas Crafer's Strange Will CHAPTER II. An Old Bit of History CHAPTER III. The Vanished Mr. Wargrave CHAPTER IV. Cazalet's Bank CHAPTER V. Captain William Phips CHAPTER VI. The Beginning of a Mutiny CHAPTER VII. The Ending of It CHAPTER VIII. The Second Mutiny CHAPTER IX. And the Preparations Against It CHAPTER X. And How It was Ended CHAPTER XI. They Have to Desist CHAPTER XII. The Bark "Furie" CHAPTER XIII. The Old Man's Story CHAPTER XIV. The Wreck is Found CHAPTER XV. What the First Search Revealed CHAPTER XVI. An Honest Man Arrives CHAPTER XVII. An Alarm from the "Furie" CHAPTER XVIII. Treachery and Flight CHAPTER XIX. The "Honest Man" in His True Colours CHAPTER XX. A Fight CHAPTER XXI. The Villain's Den CHAPTER XXII. Mad! CHAPTER XXIII. The Treasure House CHAPTER XXIV. What was in the Treasure House CHAPTER XXV. The Middle Key CHAPTER XXVI. Nicholas Leaves the Island CHAPTER XXVII. The Narrative Ends CHAPTER XXVIII. Off to the Virgin Isles CHAPTER XXIX. Drawing Near CHAPTER XXX. Out of the Depths of a Far Distant Past CHAPTER XXXI. Some Light upon the Past CHAPTER XXXII. The Solitude is Interrupted CHAPTER XXXIII. The Island's Owner CHAPTER XXXIV. Joseph Alderly CHAPTER XXXV. Danger Impending CHAPTER XXXVI. Beware! CHAPTER XXXVII. "And Death the End of All" CHAPTER XXXVIII. The Owner of the Treasure CHAPTER XXXIX. The Approaching Search CHAPTER XL. The Search CHAPTER XLI. The End THE HISPANIOLA PLATE CHAPTER I. NICHOLAS CRAFER'S STRANGE WILL. "Gray's Inn Square, Oct. 20th, 1892. "My Dear Sir,--In answer to your request, I beg to inform you that the terms by which you inherit 'Phips House,' at Strand-on-the-Green, from your late uncle, are as follows--the statement being taken from the last will and testament of your ancestor Nicholas Crafer, made in the year 1695:-- 'And I do hereby will and bequeathe that ye house called Phips by me, after my late captain and commander, Sir William Phips, when I purchased yt from Mr. Clitherow of Branford, do forever remaine in the possession of some descendant of mine, male or female, the former for choyce and preference, yet not also debarring, in fault of any bearing the name of Crafer existinge, those descending from the female side to succeed. That is to saye, it is to so remaine forever unless through it whoever doth succeede shall thereinto find the means whereby to obtain unto themselves a fortune of and equivalint unto the summe of Fiftie thousand guineas, the which I do hereby testify the meanes are forthcoming. After whych the house may be disposed of as best beseemeth those who have so found ye fortune. This, therefore, I say, "Seeke and ye shall find, knocke and yt shall be opened unto you."' "This will, in spite of its quaintness, has ever, and will probably always, hold good, although not law, until one thing occurs of two: either that the house falls down of old age (which it seemed very likely to do when I inspected it after your late uncle's decease) or that some descendant of Commander Nicholas Crafer shall find the means of making the fortune of 50,000 guineas in or through it--a most unlikely thing to happen. For, as you know, many generations of Crafers have searched through the house from basement to garret, imagining that the original testator meant to hint that somewhere about it, was hidden away such a sum of money as he mentions; and always without result. Nor has the ingenuity of one generation after another ever been able to hit upon any hidden meaning which might be contained in the words of the will, or to find anything excepting the scrap of paper once discovered, of which you know; while certainly the land on which it stands--something under three acres--can hardly ever become of such value, or one-twentieth part of it. "But as you know as much about your ancestor as I can possibly tell you, I need not write further, and I have only to state that, during your absence abroad, everything has been done to facilitate handing over the house to you on your return, and I now propose to prove your uncle's will, and, after the usual formalities, to put you in possession of Phips House and other property left by him.--Yours faithfully, "A. Bentham." This was the letter which Reginald Crafer read at his breakfast, one fine autumn morning, as he sat in that good old hostelry, "The George," at Portsmouth--a letter which he had found at the Naval Club after his early morning walk on the Battery--a walk taken with the view of aiding an already exceedingly good appetite, and of having a look at the waves dancing out at the Nab and sparkling in the bright October sunshine. A better specimen of the young lieutenant of to-day than Reginald Crafer (with "N" after his name to show that he had taken up navigation as his branch) you might not see in any of her Majesty's ships. Tall, but not too tall for a sailor; close-shaven, as becometh the young naval officer of to-day, yet with excellent features that required nothing in the shape of whiskers or moustache to set them off; with clear grey eyes and a wholesome sunburnt skin--what more could a young man desire in the shape of personal gifts? Nay, what more pleasing a sight to gaze upon than this smart, good-looking young officer could the heart of a maiden desire? Now Reginald Crafer--whom at this present moment you see eating buttered toast and a fried sole, as he reads his lawyer's letter--had just come home from the China Station in the _Ianthe_ (twin-screw cruiser, first-class, armoured, 8,400 tons); and she having been paid off, the young man was on leave for the time being. He had slept at "The George" overnight for two reasons (ordinarily the naval officer rushes to London by the first train that will bear him, when once he has set foot on shore), one being that he wanted to go to a ball at the Commander-in-Chief's to which the officers of the returned cruiser were mostly invited; the other, that he expected to find a letter from the solicitor, Mr. Bentham--which, as you have seen, he did find. This letter was in reply to one that Reginald had sent to the lawyer from Hong Kong, which in its own turn had also been a reply. For to the young lieutenant there had come at the Station a letter from Mr.. Bentham, stating that his uncle--also a Reginald Crafer--was dead, that he had left the younger Reginald a few thousand pounds (the principal part of his income having been derived from an annuity and a government pension) and "Phips House." Then Reginald had written back for further details, had received the above-quoted answer at the Naval Club this morning, and--_voilà tout!_ Of course, he knew as much about the mysterious entailment of Phips House as the lawyer did; it would have been strange had he not done so. Eleven different Crafers had held possession of it since Nicholas departed this life in King William III.'s reign: eleven different Crafers, all of whom had sought high and low for the fortune it was supposed to contain, or for some clue as to how the fortune of "Fiftie thousand guineas" was to be obtained; and of those Crafers many had torn their hair in vexation, and others had stamped their feet and cursed and sworn--or, perhaps I had better say, grumbled and growled--at finding nothing. Of such irate descendants the last, the late lamented Reginald, had, however, not been one. Perhaps because he thought that if his ten predecessors could find no fortune in the house, he was not likely to do so; or perhaps because he was himself very comfortably off with his annuity and his pension from a Government office, and his few thousands of invested money--which Lieutenant Crafer now came into--he bothered his head not at all about the chimera of the house at Strand-on-the-Green. Certainly he cursed not over it, neither did he swear--unless it was at the damp from the river!--and, being bald, he had no hair to tear; and he never tapped panels nor prodded walls nor looked for secret doors in the house, contenting himself with letting young "Reg" do all this when he came to stay with him. For the rest, and being a bachelor, he spent much time at his club; he took a faint interest in the curiosity which the legend of Phips House excited in the minds of his friends, as well as of the waterside loafers of Brentford, Kew, Mortlake, and all the immediate neighbourhood; he would even go so far as to invite people to stay with him and hunt about the house for themselves, when they were not enjoying the prospect from the windows of the market-gardens across the river. But of excitement in the legendary fortune, this bald-headed and comfortably situated ex-Civil Servant could get up not one jot; and when a burglar broke into the house, determined on finding, as he informed the barrister who defended him, "the blooming fortune if it was to be found," he went to see him at Pentonville after his trial and told him he sincerely wished he had found it. Thus, to him, the fortune of Phips House was but an allegory or a myth, which he regarded but as a grown-up child regards a fairy-tale; and so, unbelieving in all that pertained to it, he passed away to Kensal Green and Reginald the Second ruled in his stead. But he, when he was a child--being of a romantic nature--did believe in the fortune of Nicholas Crafer; and when he was a man--being a sailor--had not lost all faith in the romance. Whether that faith was justified, you who read on shall see. CHAPTER II. AN OLD BIT OF HISTORY. Who is he, especially of the London brood, who knows not Strand-on-the-Green? Who knows not that it lies below the choice and savoury town of Brentford and below Kew Bridge also, on the Middlesex shore; that it is composed of a long, straggling row of houses, many of them old and most of them quaint, which are of all shapes, sizes, and uses? One there is in which once dwelt Zoffany, the painter; hard by is a waterman's cottage, where the succulent winkle or shrimp may be purchased and eaten--the former with a pin supplied by the vendor; then comes a row of comfortable houses panelled and wainscotted within, then more tiny shops (with, interspersed all along the row, the genial public-house); then more private houses; and so on to Phips House--old, quaint, gabled, and mullioned, panelled also, and wainscotted. In it are fireplaces in the corners of the rooms--sure proofs of the early Charles II. period; it has also carved wooden doors and carved balustrades and banisters; there are balconies to the front windows having bulging rails to fit the hoops of women belonging to long-forgotten days; and all about it is that genuine look of latter Stuart times which may still be found in very many houses in this locality. "What did it appear like when Nicholas first bought it?" mused Reginald Crafer to himself a few evenings later than the day he breakfasted at "The George." "Even if it hasn't altered, its surroundings have." Then he turned his eyes around and went on, gazing down the river meanwhile. "The 'White Hart' at Mortlake was there, I think--I have read of Jacobites taking boat from its steps; and so was the Duke of Devonshire's and old Chiswick beyond, with wicked Barbara Villiers standing at the window of her house and shrieking for the return of her lost youth and beauty. But not much else! No main drainage then, no horrible gasworks, no District Railway bridges! It must have changed a good deal since Nicholas hid his fabulous fortune, or the story of it, in the house--if it is fabulous." He put the key into the door and entered, musing still. "I wonder what Nicholas did to pass his time? There was no 'Packet Hotel,' no 'Indian Queen,' no 'Star and Garter' then." These places are, it should be told, hostelries of more modern date. "There was not much for him to do to amuse himself," he went on. "He was too late to know Kinde Kit of Kingston, who lived here; too early for the Georgian revels at Kew. Yet he might have often seen William of Orange (it was hard by here they attempted to assassinate him); he might have smoked and drunk at the 'Three Pidgeons,' at Brentford, and known the daughter of Shakespeare's brother-actor, Lowin, who kept the place. Who knows?" This young man, you see, was well acquainted with the history of the neighbourhood in which stood the house he had now inherited. It was not remarkable that he should be so. From his earliest childhood his fancy had been strongly taken by all the gossip connected with the property that must some day be his if his uncle remained unmarried, and never did he by haphazard see the names of Brentford, Kew, or Strand-on-the-Green printed but he studied every word in connection with them. Thus, he was neither erudite nor pedantic, but only very interested in all that concerned the spot, and, therefore, very well informed about it. What he did not know was--in common with his forerunners--much about the mysterious Nicholas Crafer, who had contrived, by arousing the curiosity of his descendants through the medium of his strange will, to keep his memory very green. And not only the curiosity of his descendants, but also of most people brought into the slightest connection with the spot. The waterside hands, the barge-loaders and the lookers after private skiffs and gigs, the keepers of local refreshment-houses, whether "publics" or those chaste bowers which have upon their fronts the mystic legends, "Tea and hot water 9_d_." (how can there be tea-drinking without hot water?); even the hands of the steamers passing up and down--of the _Cardinal Wolsey_ for Hampton Court (which place it reacheth not without arduous struggles and terrible delay), and the captains of the _Bridegroom_ and the _Wedding Ring_ (graceful names well suited to riparian jaunts!)--all knew the legend of Phips House as well as its new owner. So, too, did the dwellers on Kew Green, the respectable City men who resided on the Kew Gardens estate and were on familiar terms with the parson, and the City clerks who abode in great numbers in modern Gunnersbury and modern Chiswick. All knew, I say, the legend of Phips House; all had heard of Nicholas Crafer, who was considered to have been a pirate and buccaneer; all--watermen, City men, and City clerks--were proud of their local history of Nicholas and their--in a way--connection with him. What was, however, really known of him by the family--reduced now to Reginald alone--what had filtered through the eleven generations with regard to him, was no more than this: He had been an officer in the navy of the Commonwealth, being but a lad at that time, and serving under Blake during its last two years of existence; then under Charles II. in the royal navy; and then under James II., in whose first year of misrule he retired. Many a fight did he engage in in those days, as was well known to his descendants: he was in the destruction of the Spanish ships at Santa Cruz in 1657, and at the defeat of Van Wassenaer by James, Duke of York, in 1665, in the "four days' fight" in 1666, and he assisted in the capture of the _Golden Horse_ corsair in 1681, and many other valiant deeds besides. Yet were none of these martial feats so romantic as one other thing he did, or, rather two other things. He accompanied Sir William Phips, then plain Captain Phips, in both his expeditions for the fishing up of the Hispaniola Plate--the second attempt proving successful. Now, as not all the world knows, but as his descendants of course knew, 'twas in the _Algier Rose_ that Phips made his first attempt to get this plate in the reign of that most high and puissant prince, King Charles II., of ever-gracious memory. 'Twas that great monarch who put at his disposal the _Algier Rose_, after listening to Phips's tale in the embrasure of a window at Whitehall--what time he was playing with the silky ears of a spaniel on his knee and leering at a young country lady fresh come to Court--a tale narrating how the Spanish plate ship, or carrack, was sunk off Hispaniola--or, as we now call it, San Domingo and Hayti; and how he, Phips, felt sure he could fish it up. But Phips came back without the plate, and the august Charles, being dead, could help him no more, nor would the saintly James, his successor, do so. Phips was therefore now on what he would, perhaps, have called his "beam-ends," and so were some of his officers, including Nicholas Crafer; and on them he would doubtless have remained had not his good fortune thrown in his way at this moment a friendly patron. This was none other than Christopher Monk, second Duke of Albemarle, a nobleman who loved much the bottle--which fondness led to his death shortly afterwards, when Governor of Jamaica--and who also took great interest in stories of buried treasure, and listened to tales of such things with eagerness. To him, therefore, Phips opened up the subject of the Spanish plate. He swore that though he had failed once in finding it he would never fail again; and he so much impressed his drunken Grace with his energy and sincerity that, at last, he sailed once more for the West Indies as captain of a private ship commissioned to hunt for the plate, and with him Nicholas sailed too as second officer. Much money had been advanced for the quest; Albemarle taking six shares, while three were allotted to Phips, one to Nicholas, and one between the other officers, and the remainder amongst those adventurer-merchants who had assisted in finding the necessary capital. All this is matter of history, which may be grubbed up by the student with little pains; so, too, is the fact that Phips did come back with the plate, having gone through some considerable dangers and hardships to secure it. Then the saintly King, James--who took a tenth as his royalty for granting the patent--was advised to seize all the plate on the ground that "one half of what had been in the Spanish carrack was missing," and that, consequently, Phips had secreted that half somewhere for his future use. But the King, contrary to what might have been expected of him, refused to believe such to be the case--perhaps because he had been a sailor himself once, and a good one, too!--and, instead, ordered the money to be divided and apportioned as had been at first arranged, and also, at the request of the graceless but goodhearted Duke, knighted the captain, making him thereby Sir William Phips. So Albemarle got his six shares, Phips got his three, and Nicholas his one: but as to how much each got considerable doubt has ever existed, since some historians say the plate realised only £90,000, and some say £300,000; though it was thought that Phips got £16,000. But whatever it was it was sufficient to assist the Duke in ruling royally over his colony (for a year, when the bottle finished him!), to support Phips until the time came when he was made Governor of New England, and to enable Nicholas to buy his house at Strand-on-the-Green. But than this no more was known, except that Nicholas lived some years after the making of his will, since he did not die until 1701, when the smallpox carried him off. And of what he did in those years neither was anything more known, nor of how he and Phips really got the treasure, what adventures they went through, or what hardships they then endured. Yet, as will now be seen, the time was at last at hand when Reginald Crafer the second, twelfth in descent from Nicholas, the so-called pirate and buccaneer, was to find out all that there was to be discovered about him. He was soon to learn the reason of Nicholas's strange will and testament. CHAPTER III. THE VANISHED MR. WARGRAVE. Now, in the letter of Mr. Bentham, the lawyer, to the present Reginald, mention was made of "a scrap of paper once found," of which the young man knew. And that he did so know of it was most certain, as all who came after the fourth Crafer in descent from Nicholas had known, for it was in the time of that fourth Crafer and in the first year of the reign of George III. that it had been discovered. Only, when it was discovered it told nothing, since on it were simply the words, "My friend Mr. Wargrave has the papers that will tell all.--NICHOLAS CRAFER." Nothing could very well have been more disheartening than this; and I fear that the fourth Crafer in descent, whose Christian name was David, must, when he discovered that paper, have been one of the family who indulged in hair (or wig) tearings and in strong language. He was himself a doctor--for the eleven descendants of Nicholas had among them embraced all the professions and callings fit for gentlemen--having a fair practice in the neighbourhood of Brentford and Chiswick, and was consequently a stay-at-home man. And during his home-keeping life, while having a few alterations made to what was in those days called the saloon, or withdrawing room, he found the useless piece of paper. It was in the leaves of a Wagener, always called by sailors a "Waggoner" (a book of charts, or _routier_, much used by old navigators), that the scrap was discovered pasted--between the cover and the title-page. The book itself was in a little wooden cupboard, not a foot square, that had always been evidently regarded as a secret receptacle and hiding-place, since over and in front of the cupboard-doors, which had an antique lock to them, the wainscotting was capable of removal. Yet, when last the wainscotting had been put over that cupboard, it was easy enough to perceive that the person who had so closed it up had intended it should not be opened again for some time, since the wood of the wainscot had been glued in some manner to the cupboard-door. Then, in the passage of time between Nicholas having closed up the cupboard and the epoch of David Crafer arriving, when the builder's man lighted on it--which was a period of over fifty-five years--some stamped hangings of floss and velvet had been placed over the wainscot by another owner; so that at last the little cupboard with its contents was entirely hidden away. That Nicholas could have ever intended his scrap of paper--if the information was really of any use in his own day, or in days near to his time--to be so lost, it was of course impossible to decide. Doubtless he never dreamt that the panels would be covered up by the hangings, and perhaps thought that, therefore, sooner or later, some curious eye would observe that there was a difference in their size where they enclosed the cupboard. However, whatever he thought or did not think, the builder in making his alterations had unearthed the paper. Only, as David Crafer remarked, it was of no use to him now it was found and never would be; which was the truth, for when he in his turn went the way of those before him he had never so much as really and positively found out who Mr. Wargrave was. Yet he had tried hard to do so in the time that was left him. Knowing his ancestor to have been a sailor, every record bearing on the sailors of the past fifty years was searched by him or those employed by him, but there was no Wargrave who had ever been heard of. The Admiralty officials of those days swore no Wargrave had ever served in the navy; whoever he was, they said, one thing was certain--he was not a King's officer. Then David Crafer got the idea that the man was, after all, a lawyer whom Nicholas confided in; but again he found himself at bay. The records of dead-and-gone lawyers, even when they had been famous, were scanty enough in the early days of last century; when they had not been famous--above all, when they were only attorneys--those records scarcely existed at all. So, at last, David Crafer gave up the law in despair. If there had ever been a Wargrave in that profession, he, at least, could find out nothing about him. Next, he tried the City, which was not a very large place in his own day, and had been smaller in the days of Nicholas. Yet it was difficult to glean any information of the City even in those times--especially since the information desired was nearer sixty than fifty years old. It is true there was, as far back as the period of Nicholas Crafer and the mysterious Wargrave, a London Directory (such useful volume having been first published in 1677), yet in the copies which he could obtain a sight of--which was done with difficulty, since reference books were not preserved with much care in those times, and those which he did see were neither consecutive nor in a perfect condition--he found no mention of the name of Wargrave. So time went on, David Crafer grew old and feeble, and had almost entirely desisted from the search for the name of Wargrave--the man himself must, of course, have been dead for some decades--and had long since come to the conclusion that he would never find out anything about him. Then, all at once, when visiting a friend in the City, and while turning over a volume in that friend's parlour, he lighted on the name and possibly the person. The book was entitled "A Compleat Guide to all Persons who have any Trade of Concern within the City of London and parts adjacent;" and peering into it in a half-interested, half-hopeless, and half-hearted manner, old David saw the name of "Samuel Wargrave, silversmith and dealer, Cornhill." Moreover, he saw that the book containing the name was published in 1701, the year when Nicholas died. Therefore he thought he had found his man, or, at least, had found the chance of gleaning some information about him. But, alas! the year 1701 was a long way off the year 1760, when the paper was discovered in the little cupboard, and still longer off the year 1768, at which period David had now arrived. Moreover, David was, as has been said, grown old and feeble; "he did not know," he told himself that night as the coach took him back to Strand-on-the-Green, "if he cared overmuch now to go a-hunting for a dead man, or even for the knowledge that dead man might have possessed of Nicholas Crafer's treasure." Yet, old as he was, being now turned seventy, he took the trouble to make some inquiries. He had a son, an officer, away serving in the American colonies, himself no longer a very young man; if he could find something more to leave him than the money for which he had sold his practice and his little savings and the old house to live in, why it would be well to do so. So, once more, armed with the knowledge that Mr. Wargrave had been a silversmith in Cornhill, he began further inquiries--which resulted in nothing! At least in nothing very tangible, though they proved that the man who was in the "Compleat Guide" had once lived where he was stated to have done. The parish books to which David obtained access showed this; and they showed also that he must have been the tenant of the whole house--even though he let off part of it, as was likely enough--since he was rented at £133 per annum, a good sum in those days even for a City house; but they told nothing further. No one could be unearthed who remembered Wargrave the silversmith, no one who had ever heard of him. Nor did his business appear to have survived him, since, in the half-year following his last payment of rates and taxes, the next occupant of the house was a mercer, who in his turn was followed by a coffee-house keeper, who, in David's own day--as he saw with his own eyes--was succeeded by a furniture dealer. And then, as the old man reflected, this Mr. Wargrave might not be, probably was not, the man who was Nicholas's friend. At this period David Crafer died; and ere his son, the officer in the American colonies, could be apprised of his death he too was dead, being shot through the heart in a skirmish with some Indians near Boston. Confirmation being received of his death, the property passed to another Crafer belonging to the elder branch, which was still existent in Hampshire; and by the time he in his turn had passed away the finding of the scrap of paper in the Wagener, and the hunt for Mr. Wargrave, were almost forgotten, if not entirely so. In fact, as generation continued to succeed generation, not only did these incidents become forgotten but the whole thing became almost a legend or a fairy-tale. One inheritor even went so far as to scoff at the will of Nicholas, saying that he was a romantic old sea-dog who had taken this manner of keeping his memory before his descendants; while, as you have seen, the late Reginald regarded the whole story with a pleasing indifference. But the present Reginald, who was himself of a romantic tendency, could by no means regard the story in anything but the light of truth, and, if he ever indulged in any hopes at all, they were more that the mystery might be cleared up in his time than that the fortune of £50,000 should come to him. And it is because in his time the mystery was cleared up, that the whole story of what Nicholas Crafer did leave behind him "equivalint unto the summe of fiftie thousand guineas" can now be told. CHAPTER IV. CAZALET'S BANK. Now this is the manner in which the mystery was at last cleared up in the time of Reginald Crafer, Lieutenant, R.N. There was, and still is, in the neighbourhood that lies between Chancery Lane and Cheapside, an ancient banking establishment that is as old as the Bank of England itself--if not some years older--and that has, from its creation, been known as "Cazalet's." Yet there has been no Cazalet in the firm for nigh upon a hundred years, but, instead, the partners--of whom there are now two--boast the ancient patronymic of Jones. These Joneses are descendants, on the female side, from the last Cazalet, and in this way have become possessed of the old business; and it was when their father--for they are brothers--died, at almost the same time that Reginald's uncle passed out of existence, that a change took place, which led in a roundabout way to the writing of this narrative of "The Hispaniola Plate." Old Mr. Jones had, I say, been gathered to all the other Joneses who had gone before him, and the two young Messrs. Jones--one aged forty-five and the other thirty-nine--decided that his decease marked a period in the existence of Cazalet's when a change ought to be made. That change was to take a shape, however, in the first instance, which caused a vast number of the people who banked with them, as well as all their senior clerks--many of them nearly as old as the late Jones himself--to shake their heads and to wonder why that late Jones did not burst forth corporeally from his grave, or, at the very least, appear in the spirit, to forbid the desecration that was about to take place. For the old house was to be pulled down--ruthlessly sacrificed to the spirit of the times, and a bran-new one was to be built up in its place! "Well," said the ancient chief cashier--who had been there boy and man since 1843, and had grown old, and also tobacco-and-spirit-stained, during the evenings of a life spent in the service of Cazalet's--when he received the first intimation of this terrible news, "if that's going to happen it's time I was off. Lor' bless me! a new house! Well, then, they'll require some new clerks. They don't want a wreck like me in such a fine new modern building as they're going to shove up." "Why, Mr. Creech," said a much younger _employé_ of Cazalet's, a youth who came in airily every morning from Brixton, and was supposed to be the best lawn-tennis player in that suburb, "that's just why you ought to remain; you'll give the new show a fine old crusted air of respectability; you're a relic, you are, of the good old days. They'll never be able to do without you." But Mr. Creech only grunted, and, it being one o'clock in the day when this conversation took place, he lifted up the lid of his desk, took some sandwiches out of a paper packet, and, applying his lips to a small flask, diffused a genial aroma of sherry-and-water around him. Yet, as he thus partook of his lunch, he wagged his head in a melancholy manner and thought how comfortable he had been for the best part of his life in the old, dingy, dirty-windowed house; it having been a standing rule of Cazalet's that the windows were never to be cleaned, and rumour had it that they had not been touched since the house was built. That the firm "would never be able to do without him," as his cock-a-hoop junior had remarked, seemed, indeed, to be the case, and received exemplification there and then. For at that moment a bell rang in the inner sanctum where the brothers sat, and a moment afterwards the office-boy who had answered it told Mr. Creech that the "pardners wanted to see 'im;" whereon he gulped down a last drop of the sherry-and-water, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and went in to them, wondering "what was up now?" "Sit down, Creech, sit down," said the "pardners" together, "we want to have a talk with you about the new house." Here Creech grunted. "Or rather," the elder one went on, "the old house;" whereon the cashier smiled, as much as to say that that was a far more congenial subject to him. Then Alfred, the elder brother, continued: "You know more about this house, Creech, than anybody else." Creech gave a grunt again here, which tailed off into a sigh. "Why, bless my soul! you've been here five years longer than I've been in existence--there's no one else knows as much about us as you do." "I came here a boy of sixteen," said Creech, looking at the clock on the wall as though it was a kind of calendar of his career, "and I'm sixty-five now. That makes forty-nine years. Come Easter, I've been here fifty years. It's a long while!" "It is a long while," said the younger partner, Henry. "But you're all right, you know, Creech. Cazalet's look after those who have served them long and well. When you feel like retirement and a pension, you say so. Only, I don't know how we shall get on without you. However, the retirement is a long way off yet, I hope. Let us talk about the present." "What we want to know is this," said Alfred, "and you're the person to tell us. What is there stored away down in the vaults below the strong room? We haven't been down there for years; not since we were boys and our father used to let us go down sometimes. There seemed to be only an awful lot of mouldering rubbish, and it'll all have to be gone over and either destroyed or fetched up before the builders go to work on the foundations." "So there is a lot of rubbish," replied Creech, "though I haven't been down there myself for over twenty years. The last time I was down was when the Prince o' Wales went to return thanks at St. Paul's. I remember it because I found a bottle of port wine on a ledge, and we drank his health as he went by. I told your father about it afterwards, and he said it must have been some of the Waterloo port his father had had given him." "What else is there?" "A lot of rubbish," repeated Creech. "There's several old boxes, most of them burst open, with leases, I should say, belonging to dead and gone customers of the bank, and a heap of broken old furniture that belonged upstairs when the family lived over the bank. I found a fine copper warming-pan, that Mr. Jones made me a present of; and I think there's an old spinet down there, and broken chairs and tables, and office stuff, and a basket full of broken glass and crockery, and that sort of thing." "Humph!" said the elder brother. "Leases, eh? We ought to look into those. If they're ours we ought to preserve them, and if they belonged to customers who have left descendants, they should be returned. They may still be of the greatest value. Who can tell?" "_My_ wife," said the younger, "has been filling the new house at Egerton Gardens full of the most awful-looking gimcracks I ever saw. She'll want that spinet directly she hears of it, and if she could only find another warming-pan she'd hang it up in the bedroom passages as an ornament." "_My_ wife," said Creech, "warms the beds with ours in the winter. It's a very good one, but I'll send it back if Mrs. Jones wants to decorate her landing." "No," said Jones Junior, "we'll say nothing about it. There's far too much rubbish in the house already. Suppose," to his brother, "we go down into the vaults and have a look round." This was agreed to, so down they went, after Creech had armed himself with a large paraffin candle and had rummaged out a bag full of keys of all sizes and shapes, while the elder Jones carried with him the more modern and bright keys that opened the safes and strong room. This latter they were, of course, in the habit of visiting every day, but the trap door leading to the vaults below--which was in the floor of the strong room--testified to the truth of Creech's assertion that it possibly had not been opened for twenty years. First of all, when the key was found, the lock was so rusty that it could not be turned until some oil had been brought, and then the door had stuck so that the two brothers--for Creech was no good at this work--could hardly pull it up. However, at last they got it open, and then they descended the stone steps one by one. The place--as seen by the light of the candle--was, as the old cashier had described it, an _olla-podrida_ of all kinds of lumber. The hamper of broken glass and crockery was there, so was the spinet, looking very antique and somewhat mouldy--a thing not to be wondered at, seeing that the Jones family had not lived over the bank during the present century. The broken chairs, stools, and tables were all piled in a corner--in another stood the boxes, some of them burst open, of which Creech had spoken. And around and about the vaults there pervaded the damp atmosphere which such places always have. The cashier had brought a second candle in his pocket, which he now lit, and by this additional light they saw all that there was to be seen. "A lease of a farm in Yorkshire," said Alfred, taking up the first one that lay loose on the top of the first box, whose rusted padlock came off it, nails and all, as they touched the lid, "called Shrievalls, from the Earl of Despare to Antony Jones. Lor' bless me! Why, Shrievalls has been in our family for any amount of time, and I never heard of the Earl. I suppose we bought it afterwards. That's no use to anyone. What's this? A covenant of the Earl of Despare to pay an annuity to Ambrose Hawkins for the remainder of his life, made in the year 1743; that covenant has expired! That's no use to any one, either. A bundle of acceptances by Sir Marmaduke Flitch to Peter Jones--our great-grandfather. Flitch! Flitch! No knowledge of him either. An authority from Annabella Proctor to pay to her brother, so long as he holds his peace--humph!--ha!--well, that's an old family scandal--we needn't read that just now. Transfer of a lease from Mr. Stringer, son of Sir Thomas Stringer, a judge of the King's Bench, to Mr. Samuel Wargrave, late silversmith and jeweller, of Cornhill, now of Enfield, dated 1688. I suppose one or the other of them was a customer of the bank." "Then it was Wargrave!" exclaimed Creech. "I've seen that name in some of our old books. At least, I think I have. Let me see--Wargrave. Where _have_ I seen it? I know it somehow." "It can't matter," said the younger Jones. "There has been no Wargrave on our books for a long while." "A bundle of letters," went on the elder, taking them up, "from the Lady Henrietta Belville to Bartholomew Skelton, Esquire, at the University of Leyden, with one beginning, 'My dear and only love,--Since my 'usband is away to York'--Oh, dear! dear! we needn't read that now." "I should think not," said the younger brother. "The Skelton family still banks with us. We had better send the letter back intact. Bankers should keep secrets as well as lawyers." "Wargrave," mumbled Creech to himself, as he leaned against an antique office-stool minus a leg. "Wargrave! Where have I heard the name?" "An account book with no name in it but a date. And written therein, 'On behalf of the Earl of Mar, his expedition.' Humph! ha! well, we had a good many Jacobites among our old customers. What's this? A glove with a lot of tarnished silver fringe about it, a woman's--these are romantic finds!--a bunch of withered flowers, almost dust, and a little box----" "That's it," exclaimed Creech, "a box with the name of Wargrave on it. That's it!" "On the contrary, Creech, there is nothing on it; but, inside, a paper with written on that, and badly spelt, too--'His hair. Cut from his head by a true friend after his death at the Battle of Clifton Moor.'" "No, no," said Creech, "I don't mean that box. I mean there is a box somewhere in this vault--a small one, with the name of Wargrave on it." "There are a good many boxes with names on them," said one of the brothers, glancing round; "and I doubt if any speak more pathetically of the past than this one with its wisp of withered hair and its label." But Creech was hunting about in the rubbish by now, and at last, exclaiming, "That's the one I mean," seized on a small iron box a foot square and brought it to where the partners and candles were. "That," he said, as he plumped it down on the spinet, which emitted a rusty groan from its long-disused keys as he did so, "is the box I mean. I remember seeing it years and years ago. Look at what's written on it." In faded ink, brownish red now instead of black, on paper a dirty slate colour instead of white, were the words:-- This box is to be given to any descendant or representative of Lieutenant Nicholas Crafer who is alive at my death. To be given at once after, but not before.--SAMUEL WARGRAVE. _Nota Bene_.--I do believe it is very important. _January_, 1709. "And," exclaimed the younger brother, "being so very important it has lain here for over 180 years. We _have_ been assiduous for our customers." "But why," said the elder brother, "when you saw it years ago, Creech, was nothing done? Why did not you, or my father, find out some Wargrave or some Crafer? There must be some left." "Your father said he would make some inquiries; but I don't know whether he ever did or not. At any rate, it went clean out of my head. I was just off on my holidays, I remember, when I happened to see it; and, to tell you the truth, I never thought any more about it from that day to this. And I shouldn't have done so now if it hadn't been for that transfer you read out a minute ago." * * * * * * A fortnight later the box was in Reginald Crafer's possession, with an apology from Messrs. Cazalet and Co. for the long period in which it had lain unattended to in their hands. They had discovered him by a reference to the suburban directory, after a search through the London and also several county directories, and Mr. Bentham's name had been quite enough to assure Messrs. Cazalet and Co. that he was the rightful person to whom to entrust the box. The lock--a most excellent one, considering when it was made--had to be burst open, for no key could be found to fit it, and then Reginald saw what were its contents. First, there was a piece of paper on which was written:-- I do feel so sure that Mr. Wargrave will carry out my instructions after my death that I leave this pretious legacy to him in all good faith, and to you my descendant to whom it may after come, with all my love and good wishes; and so I say, May what you find herein prosper you. N. C. Then, in a neat roll, tied up with black ribbon, was a vast number of sheets of paper covered with writing, some of it being very neat, some of it very ungainly, with many words scored out and others inserted, and also many misspelt, and some not spelt twice alike. And Reginald Crafer, after an early meal, sat himself down to a perusal of those closely written sheets which had been at last unearthed after lying in the vaults of Cazalet's bank so long. This is what they told him. _The History of NICHOLAS CRAFER, Lieutenant, and the Search for THE HISPANIOLA PLATE, with all that occurred during that search and followed after it. As told by him_. CHAPTER V. CAPTAIN WILLIAM PHIPS. There will be but little need that I ask pardon of him or her who receives this paper from Mr. Wargrave, since if he who does so shall have courage, or she who receives it have an honest friend to depend upon, they will have no reason to reproach me for what I have done. The finding of it will tell him or her how they shall become possessed of a fortune; and those who have gone before them and after me can never know how they have missed it. That it is not well for any Crafer to find this paper near unto my time is the reason why, with great care and pains, I have so bestowed it in my friend's hand, and, better is it that I shall have laid in grave a hundred years or more before it is discovered, than that any coming close to me should light upon it. Now, you who so receive my writing shall understand the reason whereof I say this. Because it partly relateth to a large amount of plate, of jewels, of gold and coins, all of which did indeed belong to the Spanish Carrack which my commander, Phips, digged or rather fished up, from the bottom of the sea where it had lain forty-four years, or, as some did aver, fifty, and because it was the rightful property of him, of the Duke of Albemarle who had a share therein, of King James who had a tenth, and of many others. For some of this money and valuables was all stolen by a thief who was ever a rogue in grain, and what is true enough is, that there was a many suspicions when the finders came back to London that one half of this treasure was missing. As indeed some was, tho' not stolen by him whom the accusers pointed at. For Phips, who was an honest-born New England boy--one of twenty-six children--who had been bred a shepherd and had then become a sailor, was indeed no thief, but ever an honest man, as James declared, who was himself none too honest. Yet, as I say, when the ship with the treasure came back to England, there was a cry that one half was missing, that Phips had left me and others behind to hide away that half, and that, indeed, we were all thieves--tho' we were none, or only one of us, and that was neither Phips nor I. Now, if so be that the house which I called after my dear and honoured friend, and superior in rank tho' not in birth--for the Crafers have ever been gentlemen of repute and of good descent from an ancient family in Hampshire--be not burned down or falleth not down from age, and our line dieth not out, and the paper telling where these writings are be not doomed to be found by a stranger, then must a Crafer be the one to read them. And he will find strange matter in it who doth so read. For in the long winter evenings which are before me--since I have begun to write this narrative in the month of November, 1700, and trust to finish it with the incoming of the New Century--I do propose to tell you who may open the packet all that befel our voyages to find the contents of the Hispaniola Plate Ship, which was sunken off "The Boylers," a reef of shoals a few leagues off of the island of Aiitti, as the natives call it; but known generally by its Spanish name of San Domingo. And being but a poor penman I mean to divide my story into heads, thusly. First, I mean to tell you of my acquaintance with Phips at the time he approached The King, I mean Charles; then of how he sailed in the _Algier Rose_ for Hispaniola, and of two mutinies. Then, how after four years, we again sailed in the Duke's ship, or _Furie_, and what happened to us in the fishing up of the plate. But more than all this is to tell you of shameful villainies and thievings that took place, and of how the chief villain was frustrated so that not he but another was to be benefited. And who, think you, my descendant whom I know not, is that other? You may think Phips, you might imagine myself or the Duke, you might suppose some of the other adventurers. Yet 'tis not so. 'Tis no less an one than _you--you, yourself_. That is if you have a manly heart, or, being a woman, a man to help you. For as I have writ--and if I repeat myself you must forgive me, for we sailors who fought battles almost weekly had but little enough time to study the art of writing; and you will find your reward by reading this--it is you who are to benefit. You are to have the fortune which the thief was possessed of, tho' not what he stole. Therefore, having made this introduction, I proceed to tell my tale. And as I have, although a sailor, been ever a God-fearing man, I pray that it shall be a Crafer who receives this from where I have disposed of it. For it was I who gained it all from him, and tho' I shall never see you who come after me, you may well suppose that I would sooner, far sooner, that the fortune came to one of my own flesh and blood than to one no way allied to me. So I begin. 'Twas in the year of our Lord 1682, and during the visit of Prince George,[1] son of the Elector of Hanover, that I made the friendship of Phips, then Captain of a private ship hailing from Boston. I was ashore from the royal yacht that had brought the Prince over, and, insomuch as I now sought another ship, had gone into lodgings in Spring Gardens, both because of the freshness of the air over that of the city and its nearness to the Admiralty office. And it was at this latter, where there had creeped up again a good habit of the Admirals of meeting their officers frequently, that I encountered William Phips. A brave, topping gentleman he was, too,--for all he was a Puritan, tho', I think, ever in his mind a sailor first--then thirty-two years of age, fine and big and well dressed. Now, as a colonist and but a private sailor man, Phips was inferior to all of us who sailed for the King, yet he won soon upon us. He was brought in by Matthew Aylmer, then holding the rank of commander, though destined for much higher things, as I have lived to see; and soon we were told what his business was. This was no less than to get the King to give him a ship in which he had a mind to go treasure-hunting. Yet this was not a vision neither, for says he to us, "Gentlemen, I know what I speak of and 'tis not foolishness. In Hispaniola--where I have been many a time--there is a place called Porto de la Plata. Surely some of you King's officers have heard tell of it!" Two or three amongst us nodded of our heads with assent at this, and he continued:-- "Well gentlemen, do you know why 'tis so termed? No? Then will I tell you. Forty-four, or as some say fifty years agone, there came ashore at that spot--which then had no name at all--a shipwrecked crew in an open boat, in which there was no room for them to lie down, so stuffed full was it of plate." Here one or two of us laughed, and some seemed much aroused, while Phips continued:-- "They were saved from the great Spanish plate ship which had sunk some leagues out when striking on a reef, and what they brought with them was all that they could save. This was well known all over the island shortly afterwards, and is spoken of now, even unto this day." He had told this tale before to Aylmer, as afterwards I learned from him, and a few moments later he told it to the King, being taken over to him by his friend and introduced. Now, it is not for me to write down the grievous faults and failings of Charles--he is gone before his Judge!--but I will say this, that, with all his errors, he had a mind beyond the common. Therefore he harkened unto Phips, and later on he called his brother James, whose faults were greater than his, but a good sailor, and asked him what he thought on't? James was at once all for it and hot upon the idea, for it seemed that it was not the first time he had heard of the sunken plate ship, and he was taken with Phips--as, indeed, were all who met with him. So, to make what would be a tedious story short, Phips received a commission from the King to go out in command of the _Algier Rose_, with orders to find the wreck and bring all away in her if he could. And it fell out to my great good fortune that I went too. To my good fortune as it came later, tho' not then, for it was not on this journey that we found the treasure, as you shall soon know. Yet we hoped to find it, and so I was glad to go. It was in the "Dog" tavern at Westminster, where many naval men did, and still do, resort, that I got my appointment to the _Algier Rose_, Phips, who had taken a fancy to me, swearing that he would not sail without me. So there I made interest with several from the Admiralty, who would come to the "Dog" for half a pint of mulled sack, or a dram of brandy, and at last received my commission as first lieutenant to the frigate. A better ship never swam than she, carrying eighteen guns and ninety-five men, and when we took her out early in '83 I can tell you that the brave hearts on board of her were joyful. In 1683 it was when we dropped down on the tide, with a lusty cheer or two from the King's ships lying in the river off Bugsby's Hole--for they knew our intent--and another from the old man-of-war, the _Jerzy_, in which I had served as a young lieutenant; and so away out to sea with light canvas all in aloft, and just a single reef in our tops'ls, and off we went to find the great Hispaniola wreck. And so I put down my pen awhile. CHAPTER VI. THE BEGINNING OF A MUTINY. Now it happened that at the "Dog" tavern one day there came in, when we were sitting there, an astrologer, or geomancer, as 'tis called--namely, a caster of figures--who marking out Phips (perhaps because of his uncommon and striking appearance) seized upon him to tell his fortune, which he, having ever a mind turned towards fun, was well disposed enough to. So the cheat, as I thought him to be--though found afterwards he spake true--catching holt upon Phips's hand, looked long and fixedly at it, after which he said that much money should be found by him. "In very truth," called out Phips, while all around did laugh, "'tis that I go to seek, friend; nor, since every drawer in this tavern and ragamuffin 'twixt here and Charing Cross knows as much, art thou so wondrous a necromancer? Go to! your divinations are not worth a piece." "Yet, stay," said the caster, speaking up boldly to him--"stay. What you go to seek you shall not find." "Ha!" exclaimed Phips, looking at him. "Not find it?" "Nay, not yet. At present you are thirty-two years of age; it wants five ere you shall get that you seek. Then shall you obtain your desires." "Tis well," exclaimed Phips, "and therefore must I stay the five years where I go, for find it I will. Yet, harkee, friend, put not such reports about in this neighbourhood, or I will slit thy nose for thee. I am a captain of a King's ship now"--as indeed he was, for his commission was made out--"and a good ship too. I want not to lose it through the chatter of any knave." "Moreover," went on the geomancer, taking no more heed of what he said than tho' he had never spoken--"moreover, this is not all." And as he spake he pricked with a pin a number of little dots on the table, where the drink stood. "This is not all. You shall do more." "Ay," exclaimed Phips, "I shall! Maybe I shall have thee whipped. Yet continue." "You shall rule over a large country, though never a King, and you shall die"---- "Stop there," called out Phips, "and say no more. What thou hast promised is enough. As for my death, when it comes, it comes; that also is enough. Now go." And as he spake he picked out from a handful of elephant and other guineas, as well as some silver-pieces, a crown, and tossed it to the fellow, who, pouching it, went off. Yet, afterwards, when we were well on the road to Hispaniola, Phips would talk with me on this astrologer, and would discuss much his promises. "For," said he, "there have been many such who have told truths. My mother had a paper written down by one which worked out so truly year by year, that at last she flung it in the fire, saying she would no more of it. And a mighty marvellous thing it was! Year by year she bore my father a child for twenty-six years, and the astrologer's paper had so stated, as well as what the sex of the child should be, yearly. And also did it state that I--her ninth--should some day command a King's ship, which led to my always aspiring to do so; and as I now do the _Algier Rose_"--and he stamped on the poop-house where we stood, as though to confirm his words. By this time it had arrived that we had passed thro' the Gulph Stream and were well on our way for Hispaniola, so that 'twas very hot. Sharks passed near us often, but gave us good heart, since never did they follow us. Portugee Admirals sailed by on the water, their pretty forms dotting the tranquil waves--'tis ever tranquil in these regions--like flowers, and the voyage was a good one. Of our crew also there was nought to complain, the ninety-five men who composed it being all sailors who well knew, their work. 'Twould have been strange had they not known it! Many of them had been fighting the French and the Dutch for the length of their lifetimes; but 'specially had they fought the French, which seems to be what an Englishman is ordained, for; and they had lived all those lifetimes on the sea. Yet, as you shall learn ere long, they were soon to give us much trouble, and, later, to give us more. Now, as I have writ, and as, indeed, the Geomancer rightly forecast, it was not to be that the treasure should be found by those who sailed in the _Algier Rose_. Therefore should I not have written down here this our first cruise in search of that treasure, had it not been that what happened on that voyage has much to do with what happened on the second one, when we did indeed find all. To do, that is to say, with the stealing of a great portion of the treasure by a thief, and how it came about that he could so steal it. But I wander from what should be a plain record, and will now proceed. When once we were safe anchored in Balsamo Bay, which is near unto St. Jago, and not far from the reef called by us the "Boylers," but by the Spaniards and Portygees the "Bajo"--wanderers on the seas who have late been there tell me it is now called the Bajo de la Plata,--we set to work at once; but our efforts met with no success. Of divers we had procured two, one a Portygee mulatto, the other an African negro--the largest and most hideous brute in the form of man that I had ever set my eyes upon. Day by day we sent them down, and day by day they returned, swearing that they could find nothing of the Plate ship--no, not so much as a spar or a block. At first we thought they lied, as, indeed, we ever did, until at last the wreck was found, and then we knew they had spoken truth; for, having floated off, as we once thought, she was three cables--but you shall see. Thus we worked, fishing ever and catching nothing, for two years, in which time we endured many hardships. To begin with, the Spaniards harassed us much, in spite of our not having been at war with them since '60, and endeavoured to drive us away from the neighbourhood of the Reef. But them we defied, and, on their sending out at last a bomb-ketch to attack us, we first of all spoke it fair, and, on that being no good, blew it out of the water; whereon we heard no more of them, perhaps because just now they were busy with the French, who had for the last six or seven years gotten holt of the part called Aiitti, and wanted the rest. But now trouble bred amongst us, as, alas! it will do in any number or body of men who, after long seeking for a thing and finding it not, grow moody and heartsore. For the men began to mutter between themselves and to say that we should never find the sunken ship, and that, since we had a fine frigate of our own, well armed and manned, why not put it to some purpose, and go pirating and buccaneering in the Southern Seas? The first to hear of this was the carpenter, a straightforward honest man of good grit; the last, of course, was the captain. But being myself forewarned by this man, whose name was Hanway, I soon went and spake to the captain, telling him what was going forward and below; and marvellous calm he was when he did hear it. Being evening, he was sitting in his cabin under the poop, and, for coolness, had divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, and was refreshing of himself with a drink of rum sangaree. Then, when he had passed me over a glass and I had told my tale of what the carpenter had repeated to me, says he, mighty easy:-- "They wish me to go a-pirating in the Southern Seas, do they? And how do they mean to sound me, Crafer?" "They are going to put it to you first," says I; "then, if you deny them, they mean to seize the ship." "So, so," replied he, "that is their intention! Well, we will see. What are they at now?" "Standing about the forepart and in the waist," said I, "talking to each other and doubtless concocting their precious schemes. What is best to be done?" "Action," says he, "action, Crafer;" and he made for the cabin door that opened on to the quarterdeck. But here I exclaimed, "What will you do? You have neither coat nor waistcoat, pistol nor hanger; will you go forth and beard mutineers in such a garb as this?" "Ay! will I," he says, looking for all the world like a great lion--"Ay! will I. And you shall see. In half an hour there will be no mutineers in the _Algier Rose_." And then, as I regarded his face--on which there was a dreadful look--and observed his great muscular form, I thought what a grand man he was and of what a good breed these New Englanders were. And a few minutes later I had reason for my opinion. Now Phips had ever treated his men like brothers, never setting them to work he would not put his own hand to, never cursing or swearing at them as so many of the dandy captains and soldier captains--who, good Lord! in those days were sent to command ships at sea--used to do; but ever kind and gentle to them, besides helping them with a turn at their labour. Therefore, as you may think, I was rightly astonished when, on our going on deck, his manner was all changed, so that the William Phips I knew was no longer to be perceived. "Ho! there, you men," says he, in a voice that neither I nor they had ever heard before; "ho, there, you skulking dogs, what are you doing forward? Come here, all on you, to the quarterdeck. Come here, I say." And with that he stood in his shirtsleeves, looking for them to come forward. Very startled, they did so; coming slow, however, so that Phips hurried them by bawling, "Faster, faster, damn you, or the bos'un shall hase you." Which words from him made them all to look out of the tail of their eyes, but yet to come faster. So that, ere long, he had got half a dozen of 'em ranged up in front of him and a dozen more behind, looking on, moody and dark, as though afraid that whatever project they had formed was nipt in the bud. "Now," says he with another oath--which never did I expect to hear from him, a New England Puritan and ever a God-fearing man--"now, who's captain of this King's ship, the _Algier Rose_, eh? Speak out." "You are," they muttered, surlily enough. "Louder," says he, "louder. You hain't lost your voices, have you? You can make the devil's own noise when you're singing and bellowing your profane ballads in the fo'castle. Speak up!" with still another oath. "Who's captain of this ship, I say?" "You are," they answered louder, yet looking black enough. "Very well," says he. "Now listen to me, you lubbers, and listen well." CHAPTER VII. THE ENDING OF IT. "Now," he went on, "you're talking about mutiny, I hear, and pirating in the Southern Seas. Well, who's going to begin the mutiny, eh? Which of you? Let him come forward so that I can catch holt of him, and string him up to the fore-top-sail yard with my own hand. Come, which of you is it, to commence with?" And again he glared terrible fierce at them. Then says one of them--poor fool!--"We shall never find no plate here; what's the good, captain, of our stopping here?" In a moment that man was upon his back with the blood pouring from his face, the captain having felled him like a butcher fells an ox, and "Fling him overboard to the sharks," says he. "Quick, or some more of you go, too. I'll have no mutineers here and no talk of the Southern Seas. Over with him, I say!" But not one of them all moved. "What," he roared, "it is a mutiny, then! Therefore, let's see the means to quell it. Crafer, call up all the officers. And now, you hounds, you who don't want to go to the Southern Seas, stand on the larboard side. Jump, skip, damn you! All who are on the starboard side when I have counted ten shall be treated as mutineers. Now." Some did jump and skip in verity, hopping over to the larboard as quick as ever they could; for his wrath was awful to see; while for those who moved slower--though they, too, meant to go--the punishment was terrible. He sprung amongst them like a lion, as I have said; he struck and beat them with his fists, bruising and blackening of their faces; he kicked them like dogs, until every man who had come up to the quarter deck was over on to the larboard side--some of them bellowing with pain, some trying to staunch their bleeding wounds, some leaning over the bow muttering curses in their agony. Meanwhile the officers had all come up. "Over with them to the sharks," he cried. "Over! Over! Send other men forward to help bind them and fling them forth. And this brute first," said he, pointing to the man he had first knocked down. "Mercy! Mercy!" they screamed now, while the other men forward, who were not disaffected, or, at least, had not shown their disaffection, came hurrying aft at the double whistles of the bo'sun and the bo'sun's mate. "Mercy! Mercy! Kill us, but give us not to the sharks. Mercy!" I whispered to him, "Surely you will not do this thing, sir?" and was eased by a glance from him and a word to the effect that he meant not to do so, yet to scare them, especially the first one, or leader, so that they should have had their bellies full of mutiny; and, meanwhile, the poor piteous wretches were howling and weeping, some calling on their God and some on their mothers, while all the while their comrades bound them tight. "Now," says he, and at his words there went up a shriek more dreadful than before, "Now, fling over some jerked pork whereby the sharks may be attracted. 'Twill be a fitting prelude to a better meal." Thereby they roared and roared again until, in very truth, I wonder the Spanish did not hear them on land--and "Over with the lines ready to lower those dogs," says he, "and, meantime, I will go and wash their filthy blood off my hands;" and away he went into his cabin. Then, we who remained on deck saw to the pork being thrown over, what time I found opportunity of telling my officers that he might not yet carry out his dread sentence--and, presently, we saw the most horrid sight that any sailor is ever doomed to see. We perceived in the dim grey of the coming night that terrible heave of the water that the shark maketh, we saw the ripple caused by many fins, we even saw plain enough the evil, squinting, and upturned eyes looking for more prey. They had come for their suppers and wanted it--they wanted their victims; and the victims, gasping and sweating with fear, saw them as well as we did and knew their wants. One fell down on deck and died with very fright all in his cords as he was bound, the others shuddered and shrieked again as Phips's voice was heard from the poop, and then he came forth once more. "Are the sharks here?" he roared, "are they come?" And as he spoke his eye lighted on him who had fallen dead, and he turned him over with his foot to see if he were truly so. "A pretty mutineer," then says he, "a pretty mutineer! Well, he is dead, so over with him--he assoils his Majesty's deck; over with him." In a minute that dead body was cast over the bows and went splashing into the sea. Then we saw the waves all tumbled and tossed as though a seaquake had taken place, or a whale had disturbed them in its passage; we saw the ripples made by the fins of the brute down there, and the silver glisten of those fins--we saw the water tinge from green to pale pink and then to red, until, at last, the dead man's blood had overmastered the sea's natural colour. Meanwhile still the rebellious ones shouted and bawled; while some who were older cursed and blasphemed, another wept, and still another--the first one whom Phips had beat down--tried, all bound as he was, to rush at him and strike him with his manacled hands, or bite at him. But now the captain paused, though ever with his eye on this fellow, and spake and said: "Well, my hearts, how like you mutineering against the King's Grace, eh? and against me who stand here for the King? 'Tis profitable, is it not--far more so than hunting for the plate-ship, with three good meals of jerked pork and drink into you every day? What say you?" All but that mad and furious one shouted still for mercy--he standing apart glowering--and clasped their hands and said that, if he would but spare them, never more would they think of aught but their duty to the King and him--"only, only," they wailed, "not the sharks, not the sharks!" "Well," says he, at last, "since you are but beaten hounds and know it, it shall not be the sharks this time--only, henceforth, beware! For if ever again one of you so much as mutter a word of disaffection, so surely shall your blood tinge the waters round as the blood of that mutineer tinges it now. You hear?" They said they heard, and that there was no fear that ever would they offend more, no, not if the _Algier Rose_ stayed there a century, so then Phips spake again, while 'twas noticed by us officers that never did he include the first man--whose name was Brooks--in his address, nor did he cast his eyes once towards him now. "So be it," he said, "and so it must be. For remember ever, 'tis not against me you offend and rebel, who am but a servant like yourselves, and was, a few short years ago, but a poor sailor also like yourselves; but against the King and the country, who, sending us here, believe and confide in us. Therefore, to mutiny is to commit treason, and for both of these the punishment is Death. But, since this is your first offending, I spare you death--yet must you be punished. Therefore, now listen. Until the frigate touches English waters once again, or until we strike soundings in the Channel, all of you rebels must take a double night-watch, at sea or anchor, and no drink must you have whatsoever, nor ever any leave. Are you content, or have you a better mind for the sharks?" Poor, wretched fools! What could they say but that they were content--and so they were unbound and set free. Then, turning to Brooks, and with those fierce and terrible eyes upon him, he continued-- "For you, you are but as a savage beast, and unrepentant. Therefore, I still mean to fling you to the sharks, or to, perhaps, maroon you. Yet will I decide nothing in haste; the sharks," he said, very grim, "are always there, so, too, are many islands on which to cast you alone. I will take time to think how to punish you." Can it be conceived that this idiot and wretch, even at such a moment of peril as this, should be still so hardened as to defy Phips! Yet so he did. First he gnashed his teeth at the Captain, and then he swore a great oath that, were he free, he would kill him. And, though he muttered this under his lips, yet Phips heard him. For a moment he paused, looking fixedly at him, then he called up some of the men who had retreated forward, and said: "Lower him over to the sharks." And all of us, officers and men, did shudder as we heard the order. "Only," he went on, "since still am I merciful, remembering that I am naught but the servant of the King, lower him by degrees two feet at a time. Then, if by the period he has reached the water's edge he sues not for pardon, let the sharks have him;" saying which he turned on his heel and entered again his cabin. It was done, amidst the curses of Brooks and his fightings to be free. Longwise, he was lowered, face downwards, and, although twice the lines were lengthened so that, from being twelve feet above the waters he was at last but eight, still only would he revile the King, the captain, and all. "Thou fool," I called down to him, as, indeed did his shipmates, "recant, and sue for pardon." But still he would not, raving ever. "Lower," I commanded to the men--"two feet more;" and by two feet so much nearer was he to the beasts below, who now began to disturb the water once again and cause it to heave, and to show their fins and hideous eyes. Still he would not and so, with another order, down he went to four feet from the surface. And now the water was all ruffled and bubbling as though boiling, or as 'tis when a child throws a cake to the trouts in a fishpond, and the eyes of the man looking down into the sea were looking into the eyes of the horrid things gazing up. Yet still, though he was now silent, he would not call for mercy. The sweat was standing at this time on all our brows and, in very truth, our hearts were softened towards him--for if a villain he was a brave one--and almost did my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, for the time had come for a fresh order that would bring him to two feet. So I paused, hoping he would plead, yet he did not. "Brooks," I called now, very low, for I wished to spare the man, and wanted not Phips to hear me. "Brooks, this is, indeed, your very last occasion. Will you yield?" _He answered not_. Then, as I was about, perforce, to do my duty, the water heaved and surged more than before, and, leaping up from the sea as leaps the grayling from the pool to take the fly, there came two great monstrous sharks, their loathsome jaws extended so that the yellow teeth were quite visible, they evidently driven beyond endurance by the sight of the tempting bait so near. In that instant all shuddered and drew back, daring not to look below, the sweat poured out all over us now, and from the side there came a fearful, piercing scream of agony and the voice of Brooks calling, "In God's mercy draw me up, oh! draw me up. I am penitent. Pity! Pity!" The sharks in their frenzied leap had struck against each other and, instead of seizing their victim, had but hurled each other back into the sea, and thus he was spared. So we drew him up, and with this ended the first mutiny of the _Algier Rose_. CHAPTER VIII. THE SECOND MUTINY. And now I commence again. Two years more had passed, and still we had not found the plate. Very disheartened were we all by now, you may be sure, perhaps the one who kept himself best being the captain, who still hearkened after the astrologer's prophecy. Yet this, while still he did so, he chided himself for, saying that it became not a Puritan of New England to believe in any such things. "For," says he, "in my colony they are now burning witches and wizards, geomancers, astrologers, and those which pretend to be Cabala with the stars, to say nought of quack-salvers and saltim-bancoes, so that I am but a degenerate son. Yet not of my mother neither; for she, as I have told you, Nick"--as now he called me--"bought an astrologer's pricked paper and found it come true. Still, wrong as I do, I cannot but think the caster was right. Then, if so, must we wait another year; for by that time I shall have arrived at my thirty-seventh." That he would have waited had not the King--but you shall hear. We had now arrived, as I have said, at our fourth year out, and at this time Phips, who had one moment, as I have also writ, the idea of staying until his thirty-seventh year, and at another the mind to take the frigate home and confess to the King that he had failed, decided to have the ship's bottom cleaned, or, as 'tis called, breamed. Therefore, for this purpose we moved her somewhat away from the "Boylers" to a little island, of which there is a multitude hereabout--for we would not go to the mainland for fear of a broil with the Spaniards--and there careened her. Now, a sweet little isle this was as any one might wish to see--though very small, and on the charts tho' not the maps,--all covered over with a small forest in which grew the palm, the juniper, the caramite and acajou, as well as good fruits, such as limes, toronias, citrons, and lemons. Also, too, there were here good streams of fair fresh water all running about, at which one might stoop to lave themselves or to drink their fill. Ofttimes we had been over there before, especially to fetch in our boats the fresh water and the limes, for since our tubs of beer[2] had long since run dry this was our only beverage. Moreover, here we came in boats when we took our spells of leave, and, lying down in the little forest, would try to forget the tropic heat of where we had now been stationed so long, and would send our minds shooting back to memories of cool English lanes all shotted with the sweet May and the Eglantine, of our dear grey skies and our pleasant wealds. But now we were come in the ship to work and not to take our ease, for breaming is, as sailors know, no lightsome task. Yet, too, there was a pleasant relaxation even in this, for, since the frigate was not liveable when careened over, all of us were bestowed ashore. So, too, were the remaining stores, of which in most things we still had a plenty, and so, too, were the great guns, they being placed around our encampment as though a fort. The ship herself was hove down by the side of a rock which stretched out from the land a little way; and, so that we could come at her and go to and fro with greater ease, we had constructed a bridge made of a plank leading from the summit of the rock to the shore, just above high water. 'Twas not long to the beginning of the rock from the land, being some thirty feet, but once on the rock itself one had to walk some hundred feet to reach where the frigate was. Now Phips, as ever, setting a good example, had with his own great strong hands helped at hauling the ship over, and ashore he had assisted in cutting down trees to make our encampment palisadoes, our cabin roofs and wooden walls, and so forth. Never did he spare himself, and thus endeavoured to keep harmony and good will among all, officers and men alike. As to the mutiny, 'twas now forgot, or at least we thought so. Brooks, who had been the ringleader in it, seemed quite broken since the episode with the sharks, and, perhaps, also a little with the treatment since accorded him. Never had the Captain relaxed on him--and but little on the others, tho' somewhat--and never had he been permitted so much as an hour's leave or a sup of the beer while the casks lasted, or to take more than one watch and one dog watch below in the twenty-four hours. I say it broke him, yet I liked not the look to be seen sometimes on his face; and 'twas more than once that I bid the Captain observe him well, as also I did the subaltern officers. But Phips only laughed, saying: "Tush, Nick! We have scotched the villain; have no fear; what can he do? Moreover, is not old Hanway a watch dog that never looses his eye from him? And, as he knows, his friends the sharks are ever near." So the memory of the mutiny slumbered or awakened but little, and time went on and the breaming of the ship was a'most finished. We got her clean at last, by a plentiful kindling of furze and oil and faggots, so as to melt the old pitch about her, and were rapidly getting her re-pitched and caulked, coated and stuffed, so that when we went back to fish for another year she would be so clean and neat that, when we upped anchor, we should be ready for home at once. Also we had righted the ship again so that some few could live in her, and soon we meant to bring back the stores, great guns and other things. But now we were to learn over what a masked mine we had been slumbering, and we were to see once more how the hand of Providence was always guarding us, as, I thank God, it has ever done where I have been concerned. There were seven of us in the frigate one most glorious Sunday afternoon--namely, the Captain and myself and five men, when, sitting on the poop under an awning, he and I saw Hanway being supported between two others from the little wood to the plank that reached the shore. The man seemed sick enough by the way he dragged himself along between those two, and we, wondering what ailed him, went up on to the rock and so on to the hither side of the plank, and the Captain hailed to know what was the mischief with him? "Sir," calls back a sailor, one of those leading him, "he is took very ill with a colic and wishes to go aboard to get a dram and rest. Will you permit his coming?" "And welcome," says Phips. "But how will it be for him to pass over the plank?" "We will come fore and aft of him, sir," says the man, "so he shall not fall." Receiving permission to do this, they started to reach the rock; and by the foremost man walking backwards--which a sailor can do as easily as a cat--and the other propping him up behind, they gotten him along the plank. "What ails you, man?" says the Captain kindly to him then, when he was there, but Hanway only groaned and placed his hand on his stomach, so that, sending the sailors back to the isle, we took him between us, and so got him into the captain's saloon. "A dram of brandy," says Phips, "is the thing for you, my man," and with that he makes to call for his servant; when, to our extreme astonishment, Hanway puts up his hand to stop him, and stands up, as straight and well as ever he was. "What foolishness is this?" asks Phips, with his brow all clouded; "what mean you, Hanway, by this conduct?" "Hush," says he, glancing round the cabin. "Hush! It means--there is no one by, I trust!--it means _mutiny_ again, Captain. That's what it means!" "Does it so?" says he, all calm in a moment, though his eye wandered to his sword and pistols hanging over the table--"does it so? And when and how, Hanway?" "To-night," says the carpenter; "and from the isle. I have heard it all, though they know not I have heard one word. See, Captain, it was thus. I was lying in the grass under a bush but an hour ago, when there comes that most dreadful wretch, Brooks, with half a score more, and sits himself down on the other syd, behind a clump of cabbage-palms that grew next the bush. And so I heard all. Says he, 'Now, lads, to-night is our occasion, or never. To-night I must have my account with Phips and Crafer, so that there shall be a new captain and a new commander to the _Algier Rose!_" "And who," asks Phips, "are to succeed us, Hanway?" "Brooks, it seems, is to be captain in your place, sir," goes on the carpenter, "and the master-at-arms, Taylor, is to be commander. For the rest I know not; but, sir, let me tell you that, excepting yourself and the officers, myself and the bos'un, all are mutineers, and they mean to get the frigate if they can and go a-buccaneering to the South Seas, as has been ever their intent since we could not fish up the plate." "Tis well, very well," says Phips, "but how will they do it? Can you tell us that?" "Brooks gives them this scheme, sir," continues Hanway. "'To-night, my hearts,' said he to them, 'there is no moon. Therefore, what easier than to take the ship? We can outnumber them quite easy--the big guns are all ashore, there is not so much as a carronade in her. So, too, are the small arms, the powder and ball; yet, since we must not injure the _Algier Rose_, we must not fire into her, nor need we do so. For,' says he, 'at about dawn, or a little before, we can all pass the plank and reach the rock, when we can descend on the ship and put every one to death that is not for us. And I,' says he, 'will particularly kill Phips, whom I do hate most deadly.'" Phips smiled and nodded his head pleasantly at this, for all the world as though he had heard the dearest news, and then he says, "And, how much more, Hanway?" "Only this, sir," goes on the carpenter, "that Brooks knows not what will be the distribution aboard and ashore of the men, and fears therefore that he may get brought into the ship for the night--while the officers may be ashore with the other mutineers." "He need have no fear," says the captain, very sinister; "when the muster is called it shall be arranged to suit him to his exact pleasure. Now, Hanway, go you back ashore, mingle freely with them, and trust to me and Mr. Crafer." Then, when the carpenter had returned ashore, saying he had had a dram and his pains were eased, Phips and I held a long consultation together, and our plan was formed. How it worked you shall soon read. But ere I go on I must rest my hand. CHAPTER IX. AND THE PREPARATIONS AGAINST IT. It was an hour before sunset that the order was usually given to the bos'un to pipe all hands to muster, and on this fair Sabbath evening you may be sure it failed not. Now, since so much of the ship's company was ashore it was the habit for the few in her to go also ashore, so that the whole roll might be called. Therefore, on this occasion we in the frigate went by the rock and plank to land, leaving the vessel alone save but for two men on watch, and at once began the muster. The officers were partly divided, some to remain on the isle, some to be in the frigate, I being of the former, the captain of the latter. Now this plan had been communicated to all officers previous to the muster; since Phips had asked two or three of them to supper with him--of whom I was not one, but had, instead, gone on shore--and there he had divulged the whole wicked story. There was not any more danger to those who were ashore than to those in the ship, since Hanway had gathered from some source that the officers on land were not to be despatched until the ship herself was taken, and it was thought she could be easier taken and with less noise than they could be murdered. So that was to be done. Moreover, likewise had Hanway learned that Brooks hoped some of the mutineers would be told off into the ship, whereby they might lie in wait to spring out and assist their brother-scoundrels when they boarded her, and this, on hearing, Phips again said should be done. "For," says he, "since they would have some of their comrades in the frigate, they shall be obliged. Only, they will not know that when the rounds are gone those choice companions will be prisoners all, with bilboes on their feet and gags in their mouths." And now, all arrangements being made, ashore we went to call this muster. First I called the officers, naming for the shore myself, a lieutenant, and the master's mate; for the ship, the Captain, the second lieutenant, another mate, and the two gentlemen-midshipmen we carried (we had three, but one was drowned coming out); these being, when they joined the ship, little lads of eight and nine years, scarce better than babes, but now grown big boys. Then, this done, I passed to the others, bringing the carpenter and his mate into the frigate, and likewise the bos'un and his. Next Brooks was called for the shore with most of the known mutineers, excepting only some others of their gang and companions in guilt into the ship. And when this was done there was to be observed, by those who looked sharply, a glance pass between them. So 'twas arranged, and all was well for the foiling of these villains. And thus, having well concerted our plans, we all went to our various stations, the Captain walking back to the frigate with his complement, and I in command of the shore party. And now must I relate all that happened both with them--which I gathered afterwards--and with us on land, which I saw. But first for the ship. At sunset, which comes fast in these parts, the Captain, after the rounds, stationed in his cabin on each side of the door the bo'sun--who was enormous in size--and the carpenter, Hanway; then, sending for each of the known mutineers one by one into the cabin, he had them knocked on the head as they came in, bilboes put on their feet, and they carried down amongst the ballast. With them he put a good guard, who had orders that should they cry out--tho' if they did none could have heard them on the isle--they should instantly be despatched; so they were safe and secure, and henceforth he had but to deal with those ashore. Next he sent for the midshipmen, who, coming into his cabin, he demanded of them which was the lightest in weight; for, said he, "I have work for one of you young lads to-night that shall make a mate of you if you do well." Now, of these boys--one named Fanshawe, the other Caldwell (who as I now write commands the _Lizard_, of twenty-four guns, he having been promoted out of the _Richmond_)--the latter was by far the lighter, he being very lean and spare. Therefore, to him says Phips: "My boy, you must do a good service to-night, so I hope you have a strong heart;" to which the lad said he hoped indeed he had; tho', later on, he told me that at that moment his thoughts went flying off to home and to his mother, who had cryed so bitterly when she brought him down to go to sea. "Well," says Phips, "now this you have to do. We will get from Hanway a bolt--such as those of the big guns--and what you must perform is this. To-night at the darkest you shall creep from the rock to the plank, and so to the middle of it, and, when there, you will first fix a staple under the board, then through that you will run the bolt. Next, where its head will enter you must make a mortise--another staple will do very well--and then when all is fixed you shall, with a bradawl and a gimlet, so bore the board that t'will yield to any weight when the bolt is unshotted. You understand, my lad?" The boy's eyes sparkled, for he was stout of heart, and he answered readily that he comprehended; and so Phips goes on: "Then, when all this is done, to the eye of the bolt you shall attach a line and so bring it back under the plank to the further end of the rock, where some one or other shall take it from you. Now, my boy, there is little of danger to you if you are careful. And, remember, first fix your staple, then your bolt, and, last of all, pierce and bore the plank and do it well, and so shall you earn your higher rank. Now go, sleep until we wake you." The lad told us afterwards he slept not in his hammock at all, but rather repeated to himself his instructions again and again, so as to be perfect; and thus the time wore on, and, at last, there was that thick inky darkness that comes in tropic nights. Then Phips summoned him, repeated to him once more his orders, and the boy prepared to speed on his work. "I cannot, my little lad," said Phips, "go with you, nor send the men; the plank would not bear our big forms when bored, and they might see us. Otherwise, and if I could do it, I would not send one of such tender years as thou art. So be brave, and so fare-ye-well and a speedy return." He laid his great hand on the boy's shoulder as he spake, and bid him again "God speed;" and then the child went forth, his little heart quite brave and cheerful. Only, when he was gone, they found he had left upon his sea-chest, writ large, the place where his mother lived and to where she might be addressed if he came back no more; and also he had writ a little prayer to Phips that he would speak well of him to her, and say that he died in his duty. That he might so die all knew; and from his writing they learned he knew it, too. For there were many ways to it. The mutineers would doubtless shoot him if they saw him on the plank, and so begin their wicked work at once, or the plank might fall under him, or he fall off it in the dark, when it was well possible--the water being deep enough--that the sharks should have him. So he went forth, and, of those who saw him go, one or two crept along the rock after him to watch and see if all was well, and they observed, and told afterwards, how he never faltered in his task. Through the darkness of that black night he creeped upon the plank, making no noise, and, laying himself flat out upon it, went to work. Once those behind said they heard the muffled sound of the screws as he fixed tight the staples--though those who knew not what was a-doing might have thought 'twas but the creaking of the board! And once they heard him let fall a screw into the water that plumped in with a little splash. But that was all, and presently by his breathing they heard him coming back. He had done his work--the springe was set! He had done that work well, too, only, so wrought upon was his mind, that, when he once more stood upon the deck of the frigate, he fainted, and fell into the Captain's arms as the latter spake approvingly to him. Now, therefore, there was nought for them on the ship to do but to wait the coming of the dawn--tho' all in her hoped the mutineers might make their attack ere then. For, if they came when the dayspring was about, it was possible they might perceive the piercings of the plank: while, if they came earlier, they could see nought. And so, I say, the night went on and the stars above began to pale--the great Southern Cross turned from her deep crimson to a white, and the dews from the little island sent forth innumerable scents and perfumes. Meanwhile, nought could be heard from the shore by those in the ship, for all was still as death; while on the water round the rock a gentle splash alone was heard, telling that those watchers of it, the sharks, were looking ever for some prey. And, by now, several of the ship's company, headed by Phips, had creeped along the rock towards where the plank was, and, heavily armed, and hidden as much as possible, were waiting to see what movement was forthcoming and when the attack was to be made. CHAPTER X. AND HOW IT WAS ENDED. And now must I return to the party on shore, with which I was. The watch being set--which throughout the night I took very good care should be composed of those whom I had reason to consider the worst of the mutineers--we, the officers, turned into the hut that had been constructed and set apart for all of that rank. Of course we knew what the intention of the Captain was as to the sawing of the plank, and, indeed, were quite cognizant of when young Caldwell was at work on it, though none of the rebels were so. Moreover, when I had reason to suppose he was at his business, I, affecting a merciful disposition towards them which I did not in any way feel, went out to where they lay and told the men on watch to turn in awhile, as I and one of the lieutenants would take the look out for a spell. Now this I had not planned with the captain previously, it being an afterthought, yet I took credit to myself for its being an excellent one. For see what good came of it! Firstly, it removed the mutinous watch from the open where they might have seen or heard the lad, since the encampment lay but a hundred yards or so inland from the beach; and, secondly, it played the game, as they say, into their hands. For they minded not for us, the officers, to be on the alert at this early part of the night, but would, as I knew, rather have it so, for they wanted us asleep in the latter part when they meant to set about their dirty work. And it lulled them, as after-events showed, into false security; for, seeing that we treated them so kindly, they never dreamed we had one idea of all their treachery. And to further this idea in their minds, after eight bells had struck from the frigate, and a fresh watch set, I went in to the men in their huts, and seeing Brooks sitting up and looking very wideawake, I said to him--though in my mind I would sooner have thrust my sword through his heart: "Brooks," I said, "we are all sleepy now; therefore we will turn in. And since there is scarce any necessity for caution here--none being able to attack this little isle of ours--relieve your watch somewhat." "Ay, ay, sir," says Brooks, while yet by the oil flame I could see the devil's light shining in his wicked eye. "Ay, ay, sir. What shall I do?" "Let most of the watch rest themselves. What need that all should labour? We fear nought here. Leave but two men on watch--the frigate is herself a guard-ship--and let us take some repose. Only, as I and the other officers are very sleepy, call us not until the day watch; let us not be disturbed." "I'll warrant you, sir," said Brooks, and positively the fiend hid his head in the shadow so that I might not see the grin on his face, though I saw it well enough, be sure. "I'll warrant you, sir, you shall not be troubled." Whereon I bade him good night, and so back to our hut. "Now," says I to my comrades when I entered, "all is indeed well. We have but to keep quiet, and these wretches will go to destruction their own way. For, see now, they must be caught between two fires! Once they are on the plank, or some of them, they will be in the water the next moment if Caldwell has but done his work well. And even though he has not, what matters? From the rock they will be shot down, and from the shore by us, while we have this hut for a fort if needed. So now, while we pretend sleep, let us be watchful and await the good time." Then, very quietly, we saw to our arms, the bite of our swords and the priming of our pistols. Also had we in the hut some musketoons, very good ones, each loaded with five ounces of iron, which had been brought in from the ship when careened and placed here to guard against rust, as well as some peteraroes loaded with old broken iron and rusty nails, which could well be fired through the doorway. And now we three put out our light, wishing each other "Good night" somewhat loudly, so that if any were creeping or crawling about they could not but hear, and at intervals of our long vigil we would snore, sometimes in concert, sometimes singly, so as more to deceive them. And in this manner passed the night, we hearing and counting all the bells as they struck in the ship. At last there was a stir. Soft as was the grass around, we could hear stealthy footfalls; presently in the open window-frame--purposely left open by us the better to deceive these villains--we saw a face look in on us and again withdrawn, we heard a whispered talk outside, and then they went away. We knew the attack was about to begin. So, when the footsteps had retreated and we imagined that by now they must have gotten down to the beach (and, indeed, silently as they went, we could hear the pebbles crack and rustle beneath their bare feet), slowly I rose and glanced out from the side of the window. But only to draw back my head on the instant, for there, they not being such fools as might have been supposed, were two of the mutineers on guard, one on each side of the window. At present, 'twas evident they thought not that we were awake, since each was leaning with his back to the walls of the hut gazing after his companions, and I had time to ponder on what I must do. First, I had the intelligence to say nought to either of my comrades, while for sign I could give none, seeing that, as yet, the day was not come--though afar off a saffron tinge in the sky heralded its near approach--and then I took time to reflect. Now, had there been but one man he had been soon despatched, for I could from the window have run him through, or cut his throat ere he could make any noise. But with two it was different. So, I say, I pondered deep. Yet, soon, this was what I resolved to do. I would go again to the window and then would remain there, a pistol in each hand, and, the moment I heard any scuffle or noise from the neighbourhood of the rock, would fire into their heads. Meanwhile, should they discover that we were awake, yet would I do the same thing--and the noise would but serve to warn our friends over there. So now I crept to the lieutenant and the master's mate, and, touching them gently in the dark, put my fingers on each of their lips, and then away again to the window. So I was there, ready for them, for though they had each in their hands a musketoon there was nought to fear. Ere they could lift them the brains would be out, they would be gone--but at this moment up came the sun as it had been promising, and in a moment all was flooded with light. And at the same moment they saw me and gave a shout at seeing my face close to them, and the two pistols to their ears. Poor wretches! all rebels and mutineers as they were, what gain had they in their evil? Ere the shout had finished they were dead outside the hut; even dead before the report had ceased to ring. Yet I had spoilt nothing by my haste, for as now the daylight poured over all I saw that the attack on the rock had begun, and, a moment afterwards, we had rushed pell mell from the hut to assist in taking the mutineers in the flank. And, now, I will write down exactly how our position was. On the rock there stood Phips with all his men by his side, on the plank were two or three of the mutineers with Brooks at their head, and smiling quite gay was Phips, as he called out. "And 'good morning' to you, Captain Brooks, as I hear you are to be to-day. My compliments to you, Captain Brooks, for a better frigate than the _Algier_----" "To, hell with your compliments," howled back Brooks, "and your scoffs. Yet we mean to have the ship, anyway; so come on. We are eighty to ten so you must yield." "Must I, indeed," says Phips, "well, we will see for that." Meanwhile I had perceived what was my office, and so, going back with the lieutenant and the master's mate--all unperceived by the mutineers, who had been quite engrossed wyth those on the rock, so that they saw not our sally forth--we dragged out the peteraroes and a little old Lombard we had, very good for throwing a big shot, and lighting our fuse we gave them a rousing broadside and did good execution. The Lombard crashed down four of them, while the peteraroes did great slaughter, and we gave them a volley from the musketoons, and so in amongst them with our cutlashes and very busy. Meantime Phips and his party were firing into them from the rock--though not at Brooks and those on the plank, which was shaking under their weight as they advanced; and now the captain shouted to him, "Come on, Captain Brooks, come on and take command of your ship. Come on, I say." And on Brooks went, hurling oaths like a tempest howling across the sea, and followed by the others; while, now and again, he yelled out, "We are betrayed; we are betrayed," and so got fair into the middle of the plank. And then he saw, but too late, the snare in which he had been taken. For it bent so under their weight and also gave so that, looking down, he saw it was all bored and pierced so as to be by now almost apart, and kept up only by the great gun-bolt. "Back! back!" he screamed then to the others. "Back! See, oh God! see, the plank gives, it yields, we are undone!" And then from him there came a worse cry, a thrilling blood-curdling shout, for he saw what was below him. The sharks which do infest all parts of these waters had come again--attracted, doubtless, by the blood of the killed and wounded and the dead bodies in the water, which already they were busy at; and with them and fighting them for the prey, were fierce crocodiles--or, as they are called by the Spanish, the allagartos. "For God's sake, back!" he howled, "back, I say!" But those behind could not turn back because we were there, and so they met their doom. With one more scoff and jeer Phips and a sailor pulled at the line, the great gun-bolt came forth from the mortise, or staple--the boy had done well his work overnight!--the plank broke with a crash, and down they went. And as they went we saw the great snouts of the crocodiles come at them, and tear them below with a snapping dreadful to hear, we saw the sharks heave over on their sides to take their prey, we heard one wild and awful yell from each of these villains, and all was over with them. As for the others who were not killed, they threw down their arms and implored mercy, and so were bound and carried away for the time. And in this way ended the second and last mutiny in the _Algier Rose_, wherefore I will again rest awhile. CHAPTER XI. THEY HAVE TO DESIST. Now, by this time Phips was within a month of his thirty-sixth year, and we had been out on our fishing expedition four years almost, it being the end now of 1686 of our Lord. "So," says Phips, "another month will see me into my thirty-seventh, and then, Nick, we must have the plate." "Whereby you mean to say," I observed, "that you do, indeed, believe in that Jack Pudding's prophecy that at that time you shall find it. Yet I should scarce have thought, sir, that so stalwart a sailor as you would have hearkened much to such as he." "I hearkened to him," replied he, "because I am a sailor, and therefore, like unto you, Nick, and all of us, given unto believing in auguries. Yet, reflect also on what other reasons I have. First, there was my dear mother, whose doings were most rightly foretold; and next was there the vow I always made that, some day, I would command a King's ship. Well, that have I done, though without finding the plate-carrack, and therefore I am positive that when my thirty-sixth year is past I shall do so." "I trust you may," says I, "yet in four years it has not been done; how, therefore, shall it now be done in one?" "We will fish in other waters," says he; "we will try another side of the reef. We will have it, Nick--have it somehow." Yet, as you who read this paper shall see, it was not until his thirty-seventh yeare came--proving thereby, alas! that wizards and astrologers, who are the children of the devil, can speak truth sometimes--that it was to be taken from where it had lain for its forty-four or fifty years. Meanwhile I must perforce write down all that happened before that time. To begin, therefore, the mutiny was, as you have seen, over, and so rooted up and crushed down also were the men that it was impossible there could be another. Of killed there were thirty-one, including Brooks and the man who was to have had my place, and there was something like twenty-five prisoners; the remainder of the crew, though but few, being tried men and loyal to us. Some of the dead we took into the middle of the beach and buried, while the sharks and crocodiles provided the graves for the others without any trouble to us; and then, all being done that was necessary, we left this sweet little harbour of ours, which, had it not been stained by the horrid mutiny and its outcome, we should have turned away from with regret. But, considering what had happened there, we went back to the blazing sea quite joyfully to begin once more our search. For those mutineering ruffians who were not killed, it would have been easier to them if they had been. They worked now under the boiling tropic sun in chains, their hands alone being free wherewith to assist the divers; they were given no more food than would actually keep them alive and enable them to work; they had but one watch off during the twenty-four hours, and over them ever was an officer with a loaded pistol to his hand, ready to shoot them down. And, worse than this, whenever we should return to Spithead there they would be hanged to the yard-arm, as they would have been ere this to the yard-arm of the _Algier Rose_, had they not been wanted to work the ship home when her time came to go. Verily, they had gained little by their wicked foolishness! So in this way the weeks slipped by and still we found no plate, yet was Phips firm. His commission was for five years, which would carry him well into that thirty-seventh year for which he longed so, and that commission he fully meant to serve, when, lo! there happened a thing that for a time changed all his plans, though not for long, owing to Providence, as you shall read. One morning when the day broke, the lookout descried, some two leagues from us and our reef, a great frigate sailing very free and bearing down towards us, while to our joy we saw that she carried our own dear English colours. Now, in all the three years and a half that had passed, or nearly four, no ship of our own country had come anywhere near us, although often enough had we thought we saw them pass afar, as, indeed, they must have done on their way to some of the West Indie Islands. Yet, as I say, none had come to us, and so we had no news from the world without. But that this frigate was making for us there could be now no doubt; already, she was so near that she was shortening her sail, and, not long afterwards, she fired a salute, which we returned with joyous hearts. Then she hove-to, and signalled to us that the Captain was to go aboard. You may be sure that he went very willingly, the ship proving to be the _Guinea_, and an old Commonwealth frigate I knew very well, and a good sailer; and brave enough did Phips look as he took his seat in his boat, all adorned in his best scarlet coat and his great wig; "for," says he, "hot as the morning is, and will be hotter, I will not go to greet a brother-captain foully dressed." That we in the _Algier Rose_ waited impatiently enough for the news you may be sure, and, since 'twas long a-coming, that impatience became very great. Indeed, 'twas not till night was near at hand that we saw the boat coming back to us, while at the same time we saw the great frigate's topsayl fill, and observed her slowly gather way and steer towards the west. Then, a while later, the Captain came aboard, and, sending for me into his cabin, he said, while I noticed that his face was grave and sad: "Nick, we have to give up the search; we shall not get the plate now. The frigate was, as doubtless you made out, the _Guinea_, on her way to Jamaica to relieve the _Constant Warwick_, and brought me my orders to go home." "But," said I, "the commission was for five years; they are not yet expired." "Nay," says he, "that matters not. The King is dead, and has been so for a year, and the Duke of York has succeeded him. And he believes not in putting the ships of his navy to treasure hunts, deeming such things better for private adventurers. Moreover, he says the _Algier Rose_ can do better service at home against his enemies--of which the Captain of the _Guinea_ says he has a many--than in fishing for plate. So, to-morrow, Nick, we will take in water from the island, and away to England." "'Tis pity," says I, "a many pities. Yet the King's orders must be obey'd. And the plate--I wonder who will get that?" "I shall," said Phips sharply, "and you, Nick, if you will follow me. For the very moment I give up my command of this ship, I shall seek out those private adventurers of whom the new King speaks. I would pawn my life the thing is there, and I will have it. Am I a man to be thwarted?" Indeed, he was no such a man--only, as I whispered to him, he must, if still he believed in his Geomancer, be very sharp. He would be in his thirty-seventh year by the time he set foot on English ground again. "Ay, ay," says he, while he took a great drink from his cup and passed it to me, "and so I shall, But before the thirty-seventh year is gone, I shall be back again--and you shall be with me, Nick, an' you will." For myself 'twas very easy to say I would come. If James was king now, then he would have for officers of his ships all those who had served him when he was a sailor, and never had I been one of those. Moreover, I had no interest with either Edward Russell--who is now as I write Earl of Orford--or with Rooke, both of whom were like to be the King's great seamen; so that there was little enough likelihood that I should get another ship. There were just now hundreds of worthy sailors waiting for appointments, and I had no better chance than, if as good as, they. Also was I gone my time, having been now at sea since 1656, when I went a boy of eight, so that I was nigh forty years of age, and was never like now to be a captain, being but a plain sailor and no gentleman courtier or page of honour. Had I been that and not known the maintruck from the keel, then, perhaps, might I have gotten a ship at twenty. But enough of this, only I had a mind to come out with Phips if he came again as an adventurer; and that we should see when we got home. A week later we had wooded and watered from our isle, and the wind being fair away we went, while the last piece of counsel we received came from the beastly great negro of whom I have writ before. This creature's name was Juan, he having been born at San Domingo city, a Spanish slave, which he no longer was, and as we had always thought, though we were never convinced thereof, had egged on Brooks and the others to mutiny by telling of them that we were a-fishing in the wrong pool--as anglers at home say--but that if they could take the frigate from Phips, whom he hated, he could show them where the plate really was. So now he shouted to us from his periaga, as 'tis called there, "_Adios, Don Phipo, adios_. Berry sorie, Massa, you no find platy, but you look not in proper place. You ever come back again, which not berry like, you send for Juan and pay him better, he show you many tings if he not show it someone else firsty. _Adios, Don Phipo, adios cada uno_, I hope you berry nice cruise to Englishy waters. _Adios_," and with that he hoisted his little sail and was gone. Phips scowled at him first and then burst out a-laughing, while one of the sailors flung a musket ball at him, and so we sailed away disappointed men. "A very nice cruise" it was not our good fortune to have, for we were teased and pestered with contrary winds and storms all the way. Then we got into the Horse latitudes--where the Spanish used to throw their horses overboard on their way to the Indie Islands, to lighten their ships so that they could move in the calm--or called by some the Doldrums--and here we lay for some weeks. There we suffered much in every way. The sea is here like glass, there is not a wind to stir a sa'l nor to refresh the panting men, and the air is like a furnace. Moreover, here the seams of a ship will yawn, the meat become rotten, and the hoops shrink away off the casks so that they burst and leak, letting out the water--of beer we had naturally none left. The sea, too, looks lyke oil and not water, while the setting of the sun gives one the idea that the whole world is a-fire. Great crimson fleaks of flames blaze all across the heavens, then tinges of saffron, green, and pink shoot up, and then comes the grey darkness, as though 'twas the smoke after the fire. And while we who were free all this time suffered so, 'twas far worse and more terrible with the condemned mutineers, for, being down in the ballast, since there was nought for them to do on deck while we lay still, their agonies from the heat were insufferable. Five of them did die--even though at the last they were fetched above--and so 'twas better for them, since had they lived there was nought but the hanging at Spithead before them. Thus, when at last we got a wind which took us home--and a roaring, tearing wind indeed it was, that sent us often under bare poles with fear every moment that our crazy frigate with her open seams must go to the bottom--we worked very short-handed. Yet home at last we did get, looking like scarecrows in a field, and so yellow that those who knew us said that, if we had found no silver, at least we had brought a plenty of gold on our faces. Yet right glad were we to see old England again after so long, and to sleep once more in a good English bed. CHAPTER XII THE BARK "FURIE." Now I will not write down much as to how we found the state of things on our return, yet somewhat must I say. To begin with--all of which was very bad for our hopes of getting another ship--we found the King a dreadful declared Papist and with most of the nation against him. Moreover, he was passing daily laws and regulations for the oppression of the Protestants, so that he was much hated, and all the world wagged its head and said that so extreme a tyrant must ruin England unless a change came. And some there were who even went so far as to say he had poisoned King Charles--though this was never proved, and concerns not my history, to which I now return. When the _Algier Rose_ was paid off (which was done in a way shameful to our navy--namely, by giving us but half of what was due and the other half in promises, which were not fulfilled until the next King's reign, and then only with difficulty to us) Phips and I, who went to live together near the Strand, saw very soon that we should get no other King's ship to go back to Hispaniola. His Ministers laughed at us when we sounded them; one old nobleman asking us if we thought his Majesty had not enough to do with his vessels, without sending them on any such fool's errand as this? And, indeed, he was right, for things were thickening round James, we being come to the year 1687. People had not forgot the Monmouth rebellion and its brutalities, of which we heard now for the first time; they hated the King's doings and his mass in the chapel, and although he had a great big army at Hounslow this year--which Phips and I rode down to see--all the soldiers had an aversion to his religion, excepting the few Papists among them. On the sea he was not very busy just now, and no fighting done since we went away; yet it was ever thought that trouble would come--as indeed it did, though not in the way expected. So, therefore, as now you will see who read, we had to turn our thoughts to other ways, and at once we began to look about for some proprietors who would send us forth to look again for the Hispaniola plate. At first we had no success. Indeed, in the City, to which we resorted, the project was treated by the merchants and goldsmiths with extreme contempt, they jeering at us; while one of the latter told us he had gotten together more plate than he desired, and would cheerfully sell us some. But this was not our business, so we looked again. And now, at last, we heard of one who we thought would do for us--our knowledge of him being produced and brought to us by a friend who knew what we were seeking for. And the person to whom he pointed was Christopher Monk, the second Duke of Albemarle. This nobleman had in no ways ever done aught to carry on the great reputation of his father; but, instead, he had, on coming into a most enormous fortune at that father's death, twenty years ago, given himself up to loose and vicious courses, as well as having a ravenous liking for drink. Yet one fancy he had which improved on this, and was very good for us and our desires--viz., he loved to hear of treasure-finds, of the sacking of cities for plunder: such as those of Drake in the Indies in the Great Queen's reign, or of Sir Henry Morgan, the buccaneer who sacked Panama and Porto Bello, wherefore the late King gave him the government of Jamaica, which Albemarle was afterwards himself to have; and, above all, of the digging up of hidden wealth. So to him, having obtained a letter introducing us, away went Phips and I to see what might be done. He listened very attentively to us and, when Phips said he did in truth believe there was three hundred thousand pounds under the water, he sighed and said he would he could have some of it, for he wanted money badly. This we could well believe; for though his father left him so vast a fortune, he was a heavy gambler, and his Duchess--a half-witted creature, granddaughter of the Duke of Newcastle, to whom he was married before his dying father, as he lay on his bed--had ravaged him with her extravagance and debts. So says Phips to him: "Then, your Grace, if you will have it you shall. Find me but a ship well fitted and this very year--no other--it shall be yours. It is there, I know; I have much evidence it is; and though I have fished in the wrong place hitherto, yet now will I find it. And, as I say, it is my year." "Why, sir," said the Duke, "why this year more than any other?" Yet this Phips would not tell him--confiding in me afterwards that, though he believed in the astrologer, he was ashamed of his belief. So, then, next says the Duke: "But why seek not the Spanish, or the French, who have now gotten possession of the North of Hispaniola, if not all of the island, for this plate? 'Tis worth their while, if 'tis worth mine." "Your Grace," says Phips, "it is not possible they should seek for it. Ever and always are they fighting together for possession, when not massacring of the natives--of whom three millions have been slain since Columbus's day--and truly they have neither time nor inclination, even if they believe, which all do not. Then, for private adventurers, there are none among them who can or will risk the money; so that if any find it it must be an Englishman." In this way, and with many other arguments and proofs, did Phips press it on the Duke--particularly leaning on the boat that came ashore, after the wreck of the carrack, full of plate; so that, at last, he said he would think well upon it, and bade us come again in a week's time. "For," says he, "of myself I cannot now do it, though I could very well once"--and here he sighed--"when I had my father's fortune. But now I am no longer rich and am even petitioning the King for employment, and have the promise of Jamaica. Still I will see among my friends, and I will ask the King's permission. He, you know, must have a tenth and adventure nothing." "Let his Majesty have it," says Phips, "and then I'll warrant your Grace there shall be enough to satisfy all." "Sir, you are very sanguine," says the Duke. "But there, come in a week and you shall hear." So we made our bow and left him. Now, I have so much yet to write of the finding of the plate and then all that followed, as well as to tell you, who may read, how you shall also find a fortune if you will seek, that I must waste no space, but crowd on with my story. So I will briefly write down that, when the week was past, we went to the Duke's again, and he coming up to us--a little flustered with his morning tankard, as I thought, though no ways drunk--takes Phips by the hand and then me, and says he: "Gentlemen, I think it is done, and we must send you out. So now listen to what I have attempted." And with that he bade his serving-men begone and see he was not interrupted till he called. Then he went on: "I have gotten," he said, "a ship for you, not so good as a King's ship, yet well found, of a good burthen. The crew you shall pick up yourselves--God knows there are many sailors now in London wanting bread! Then, as for repayment, you and Captain Crafer"--for so he called me, though I was no captain--"must be willing to be paid by return, or what the merchants call a 'per centum.' Now, are you willing to do this?" We said we were very willing provided we were put to no expense for provisions or furnishing of the ship, which we could not do, and he said that matter should be arranged, as well as the payment of the sailors, which must be part now and part hereafter, when we returned, out of the proceeds. So after many more particulars we agreed to all, and we left the Duke to go into the city and see the merchants, and then to attend to fitting of the ship. She was, we found, when we got to her in Limehouse Pool, after we had spoken with the merchants very satisfactory, a good bluff-bowed bark named the _Furie_, who had been employed in the slave trade, about which we did not inquire too curiously, knowing very well what uses the Guinea merchants put such ships to. Suffice it, therefore, if I say she was large and roomy for her size, with many good cabins, especially on the deck, a good main cabin, and a clear fo'castle. And so we set to work to pick up a crew. Now, as the Duke had truly said, there was no want of sailors just now; for, firstly, we were not at war with any power; and, secondly, the men went in but slowly to the King's ships of war because their pay was so uncertain; and, thirdly, because all were against him, hating the Papists he had gotten both into the navy and army, and hating him too, as well as his Papist Queen, who had passed off a false heir on the nation, as they said; and also his beastly mistress, Sedley, now made Lady Dorchester. So when we went about the taverns of Blackwall and Wapping, we soon picked up a likely crew enough, and when we told what our cruise was for--namely, to get up a treasure-ship--they were all eager to come. Therefore, at last we did get more offers than we could well accept, seeing that we wanted but twenty, and so made a good pick. Of them some were old King's men who had seen much service like myself, two had taken part in Sir Robert Holme's "bonefire," when he burnt up the Dutch ships, some more had fought under Prince Rupert--as I did--when he beat De Ruyter, others had fought against Selvagees' Armada, and all were of much experience. Now, therefore, we had but to victual the bark and to put in our beer and water, and all was ready; so to it we went, the merchants behaving very generously. Yet, since Phips felt sure--owing to his belief in his precious geomancer, who was doubtless hanged for a knave ere now--that we should not be gone a year, we by no means overloaded her. Still, all was very well; we went out with a plenty of beef and pork, a gallon of beer a man every day for some months, with, after that, some spirituous liquors, and with good pease and oatmeal as well as bread. Also, which was of equal need, we had good arms, taking with us new cutlashes and muskets, several cannon, including two thirty-two-pound ones and a twenty-four, some pierriers, or swivel-guns, very useful, and several others. And, since this time we hoped not to fail, we took all applications for diving, such as a bell, pumps, bladders for the head, and so forth, such as was used at Mull for fishing up part of the Spanish Armada in the beginning of the late King's reign. And so we went away again to find, as you shall read, the Hispaniola Plate. But to set it down baldly and to say only that we did so find it, would be to give no help to those who shall come after me, whensoever that shall be. Therefore, when next I take up my pen I must tell of all our doings, of the way in which the treasure was gotten, and of that uncommon villain who was soon now to appear amongst us, and who did, in very truth, by his extreme villainies, lead to my crowding the paper as I do for the benefit of those who follow me. CHAPTER XIII. THE OLD MAN'S STORY. Now, therefore, we are again at Hispaniola and have got near unto the Bajo de la Plata, or Boylers, once more, having made an extreme good cruise from England. The _Furie_ was indeed, we found, a good little barky, she sailing well on the wind, which was ever most favourable for us, and so bringing us across the ocean in twenty-four days. But ere we went out to the reef there were some things that passed which I must write down. First, we anchored off Porto de la Plata, which, as I have writ, was so named from the boat that went ashore full of plate from the wreck fifty years--or now more--before, and which is now the port of St. Jago de los Cavalleros; and here we purchased a tender which it was our intention to use, so that there might be two searchings made for the lost ship. Also we meant to have some canoes, or periagas, so that they could go where neither the ship nor the tender could go themselves, and thereby we did intend to scour all the water round about the reef. But, Lord! who would not have been discouraged by all the merriment that our return caused--who, I say, but Phips? For those who lived at Porto did openly make mock of us, jeering at us for our coming back, and calling of us the mad Englishmen; while, if it may be believed, people did even come over from St. Jago, which is inland, to see us and our silly ship, as they called it. Now, the people here were of all kinds--there were Spaniards and Portugees, and also some French who had by now gotten all that part of the isle to the west of Monte Christo on the N. and Cape Mongon on the S., though no legal settlement until later, as well as Creoles and mulattoes, and many more. And with one accord all laughed at us, saying, "There is no plate, be sure, or we would have had it long ago." Yet still Phips, and with him all of us, believed it was there. But now there came and sought us out the great monstrous negro diver, Juan, who, after finding through me that Phips bore him no ill-will for his last fleering farewell of us, said that he had somewhat to tell us if we would hearken to him. So I gave him an appointment to see the Captain the next day, and a promise that he should be safe from any harm; and so he came out in his periaga to where we lay a league off shore. And he brought along with him the queerest of old men that ever I did set eyes on--an old shrivelled-up Portugee who looked as though he was an hundred, half-blind, and with a kind of shaking palsy all over him. Then, when I took them into the cabin where Phips was, he, being ever of a jocund vein, called out: "And good morning to you, Signor Juan, and how do you do? You see you were no true prophet, since here we are come back again." The hideous negro made a shambling bow, and hoped his honour was well, and then in a jargon of Spanish and English, very hard for me to understand, and not to be faithfully written down, he said: "Masser Phips, I bery sorry I larf at you when you went away. But I never tink, no never, that you come back again. But since you come, I tell you many tings I have founder outer. Sir, this old Signor, he know much, he berry old"--and here the brute opened and shut his great hands nine times, very quick--"he have see ninety summers." "Has he, indeed?" says the Captain, "that seems a long while to me who have seen but thirty-six as yet. And what has the Signor seen in all that time?" "He see many tings. He see the boaty come ashore with the silver plate--beautiful plate, many candlestickies, bagges of pieces, salivers and lumpes. All gone now!" Then here the old Portuguese screamed out, also in a sort of English, "Yees, yees. All gone now, Spanish sailors drink all up, then die. Die very soon afterwards. Drink all day and danze with the girls, then die." "Well," says Phips, "what good's that to me? If the drink and the girls got all, I can profit nothing." "He, he," laughed the old man, till he nigh choked, "got all that came in the boat, not all under the water. No, no!" "Plenty more under water," grunted Juan, "so he say. Plenty more. Only no one able to get it and no one believe. He poor old Portygee, me poor negro, so no one believe." "What, does he know?" says Phips, "and, if you knew, why had you no mind to speak when first we came here and I employed you?" "Signor Phips," said the black, "then I knew of nothing; I only suspect you fished in wrong place. Then when you go away to English land there make much talk about you, and all ask me if English captain find much? And I say, no, and don't tink anyone find anyting. Then old man here--he ninety summers old!--then old man, Geronimo, he come in from mines of Hayna in middle of country, where he lived forty year, and hear of talk about you and the silver, and of me the Buzo" (which means a diver), "and he say he wish he come back sooner much, because he know where carrack lie, where shift off reefy." "Shift off the reef!" exclaimed the Captain and myself together, with a glance at each other. "Is that so indeed?" Then the old Portygee burst out laughing and then choking, and then when he found his voice again, he said, "Yees, yees; that so. I see sailors come ashore with plate. I drink with them, I danze with girls, too, only I not die. That very long ago now; girls all dead, too. He! he! Oh!" and again he had his spasms. Then once more he went on: "And so, Signor, because I was a fisherman, I go out to the Bajo and I look about, only I fear Tiburons (sharks), and once when water very low I see down deep a cannon, then I know the ship had shifted. So another day I go look again, and there floated up a piece of the ship, a rail, so I know for certain she move. Then I speak to many and I say I know where carrack is, but they believed not and would do nothing. And now they all dead, too, like the sailors and the girls. He! he! Ha! ha! Oh! oh!" We talked long with this miserable relic of the past--who so angered Phips with his recollections of the dead and the gone, especially the girls, that he almost ordered him out of the ship--and, indeed, it did seem as if at last we had lighted on some good news. He said, when he could persuade no one to believe or lend a hand to search further, he went away to the mines of Hayna, in the interior, where a fresh find of gold was made, and there he stayed for all the years, making a little livelihood and forgetting all about the plate ship. Then, having at last struck ninety--on which he laid great stress, as though an action of credit done by himself--he came back to Porto where he belonged, and fell in with Juan. And this black told us that when he did, indeed, come back and heard that we had been and gone, he fell into such a paroxysm of rage and grief that he nearly died, "for now," said he, "my chance is gone." So the old figger thought all was lost to him, and bemoaned his fate and nigh went mad, until one day the Buzo went off to find him and tell him that the Captain Phips was come once more back, but in another ship. Whereupon he did once more go nearly mad, this time with joy, and then made Juan bring him out in his periaga to us. So, after hearing all this, Phips says to him: "Supposing you put us in the way to find this plate, what terms are we to make? What do you want?" "Half," says the old man. "I am now ninety years of age. I want to be rich for the rest of my life." "Tush!" says the Captain, "this is foolishness. Why should I give you half? I know now the carrack has shifted; I can find it for myself. You shall have nothing." "No, no!" screamed the old Portygee, while the big black negro began to mutter; and then Geronimo as he was called, threw himself down on his knees with most marvellous dexterity for his great age. "No, no!" says he, "not that. I will tell you, and you shall offer me what you will. Me and Juan. Give us what you will." "Indeed I shall," says Phips, "seeing that you came to me, and not I sought you. Therefore, let us see. How much think you there is below the water?" "The Saints only know," said Geronimo, "but since she was taking home to Spain the fortunes of many from Cuba, as the sailors told me, she must have been full. Oh! Signor Capitano, promise me something, give me something!" and he clasped the Captain's legs about and wept. "Well, now," says Phips, "see what I will do for you. You and this negro diver shall tell me exactly where she lies, or as near as may be, and if I find her you shall have this." "The Saints bless you, capitano; I am nearly ninety years." "Be still. You shall have this between you, the negro to dive for me with my own English diver. You shall have for every five pounds of silver or of gold, one ounce, no matter whether we find much or little. Are you content?" At first both of them began to grumble, saying it was not enough. But soon Phips persuaded them to reason in a way that was all his own. "Then," says he, doing so all in an appearance of sudden violence, "begone out of my ship. Away with you! What! shall I come from England twice to find what I knew of a surety five years ago was here, only to traffic with such as you, and you?" pointing his finger at each. "Nay, never! We will find it by ourselves. Begone, I say!" But to begone was not their purpose, since very well they knew that without us they could do nought. Strange as it may seem--and very strange it was--none in Hispaniola would hearken to the story of the plate ship lying so near--for the Boylers are not a dozen leagues out from the island--and so would do nothing, and therefore they could do nought themselves. For to do anything a small vessel at least was wanted, and the means wherewith to dive--and certainly the Portygee had no money for this, while the black was little than a beggar. Therefore, at once they sang another song, becoming directly very lowly, and saying, "Well, then, they would take the Captain's offer," only I liked not the look on the face of Juan, the Buzo, and from that moment determined to watch him well. Now, therefore, I have to say that all terms were made, and we were ready to go out to the reef. We bought a tender, and we meant when we got to our little isle of old, where the second mutiny was, to make some canoes of some excellent cotton trees that were there, with which we could go about, and see better when near the reef down into the water. The negro Juan was to come, first as diver, next as on behalf of himself and Geronimo to see we played fair, and he it was also to whom the Portygee confided the exact spot where he had seen the rail float up years ago, since he would not tell us, saying Juan would take us to the place. So we went away, being delayed, however, two days by the accursed Blackamoor, who we thought at first had played us false--perhaps, indeed, found new employers who would pay him better. However, at last we saw him coming out in his periaga--and none too soon neither, since we meant to go without him next morning if he came not, and try our luck alone--and when he and his craft were gotten aboard, he excused himself by saying he had been having a _festa_ on shore and getting drunk with some of his friends. "Good," says Phips when he heard this, "only, my black treasure, remember there is no drunkenness for you here. Because, you see," he went on, "I'm Captain aboard this craft, and if anyone displeases me I let them understand it. So, if you want to keep your brains in your head and your ebony skin whole, remember that. And now, bos'un," says he, "pipe all hands on deck and loose sail for the reef." CHAPTER XIV. THE WRECK IS FOUND. And now I have to write down what we found, only, as such long writing is even now difficult to me, I must do it in my own fashion. And that fashion is, that I can do nothing except by proceeding leisurely and describing each incident as it came about. Which I now again attempt. The soft wind carried us out past the Boylers the next day at noontide, and then, as we went by, we parted with our tender, the ship going on to our little isle of old. For 'twas here we meant to construct the cotton-wood canoes, to take in some of the island water--the sweetest I ever tasted, which caused us to take it from there--and to leave some stores. The tender which we left behind--though not very far, since the isle was but three leagues beyond the Bajo--was in charge of our master mate, as he was rated, an old King's man like myself, and, like myself, sick of the King's service. He was a good sailor and named Ayscough. His orders were to proceed to whatever point near that the African should suggest as the reputed place where the carrack was shifted to, to anchor if possible, or, if not, to put out the floating anchors, and there to remain until we returned. But no matter what was perceived, even should it be the carrack herself at the bottom, neither our own diver nor the Black was to be allowed to descend, especially not the last. Then, having given these orders, we did remain on our isle two days, what time Phips worked as hard as any man in the ship with his own hands, shaping and arranging of the cotton-wood canoes, inspiring every one with his ardours and cheering them on. What, however, did not cheer any of us, was a-finding that some of the bodies of the mutineers of the isle had the sand blown all off them where they were buried on the beach, and that their skeletons were lying white and bleached before us. Verily, a dreadful memorial of their wickedness! Moreover, another thing we saw which we liked not any too well; namely, we found drawn up in a little cove a ship's boat, with on it the name, "The _Etoyle_, Provydence," and in it many ropes, hooks, and head-bladders, all carefully wrapped up and evidently for use in diving. "Now," says Phips, "this is not well. There is nought to dive for here but one thing--the Plate Ship--therefore it seems to me that someone else has been about our office. Yet it is certain they have not been successful. Had they been we must have heard of it at Porto. What think you, Nick?" "That depends," says I, "on which Provydence those who own the boat hail from. If 'tis that of the Bahamas, then 'tis very well, since they are ours again since '66, and as King James takes his tenth of our find, we have the precedence of all. So 'tis, if it's that by Connecticut, which is but a hamlet. But if 'tis that off Honduras, then 'tis bad, since 'tis inhabited by buccaneers only, if inhabited at all; and, if them, we may have some trouble." "Well, well," says he, "we must see. Meanwhile I incline to it hailing from the Bahamas. For look you, Nick, 'Provydence' is good English and not Spanish, as most of the buccaneers are. And by the same token it may be the Provydence in our own American colonies. Moreover, the buccaneers as a rule put no markes in their crafts." "Etoyle," says I, "is not English, though!" "Neither," replies he, "is it Spanish. And," with his fierce lion look upon his face, he went on, "belong it either to English, French, or Spanish colonist or to pirate, they shall not have our treasure while we are above water." So, all being done, we went back to rejoin the tender. Now, when we got to her we heard that the Blackamoor had directed that she should proceed to a spot immediately on the other, or eastern side, of the reef, from which we had previously fished, since there it was that the old man, Geronimo, had laid down that we should find the wreck. So Ayscough had taken her to this spot, namely, half a league away from the Boylers, and we found all preparations made for a descent, Juan, the Buzo, being particularly keen to go down at once. But now we summoned our own diver--a straightforward, honest Englishman, whose name was Woods--to come and confer with us, and asked him what he thought. Then he told us that the soundings were good enough for a descent, since the bottom was not more than twenty fathoms below where we were anchored, and that the tallow brought up soft sand and limestone, which showed a good bed. "Therefore," says Phips, "you can reach the bottom, can you not?" "If not, sir," says he, "I can at least descend so far as to see the bottom, and if then I find the wreck it shall go hard but that I will get down to her. My diving chest can sink easily to forty feet, and with Mister Halley's[3] new dress I am confident I can touch the bottom here." "So be it," says Phips, "and now about the Black. Here you, sir," then he calls out to Juan, who was even now leaning over the gunwale, peering down into the hot sea, "come here and tell us how you propose to reach the bottom." "That very easy, sir," answered he; "I have new dress Massa Woods lend me, which I am sure I manage very nicely. I go down if the Signor Capitan wish me." "No," says Phips, "Woods shall go down first. And since 'tis a calm morning, get you ready now, Woods." At once the man did this, going forward to where he berthed in the ship, and returning presently a strange figure to behold, since now he was all enveloped in Mr. Halley's new improved dress, all over cords for lowering and pipes for a-taking in the air. "For," says he, "I will try this, sir, now, and see how far I can go down." You may be sure all watched him with eagerness. For besides that we hoped he should find below what we sought, but a few of us had ever seen this dress before, and were almost afraid of what might come to him. Yet, he assured us, we need to have no fear; he had made many experiments and descents as trials at home in the sea and river Thames, and was confident of what he could do. So, as calmly as if he were going down the stairs of a house, he bade the sailors lower him over from the gangway, and descended by the lines he had arranged and was gone beneath the sea, and in a few moments there was nought but a few bubbles to mark the spot where he had been. Presently we knew by a signal agreed upon with those who held the ropes, that he had reached the bed, and then by the paying out of his pipes that he was moving about. And so he stayed thus for some twelve minutes, when we also knew he was returning to below the ship, and then there came the next signal to haul him up again, which, being done, his great helmet with its fierce goggle eyes appeared above the water once more, he following. Tied on to him he bore two things, one a great beam of wood in which was stuck pieces of jagged rock, which looked for all the world like the great teeth of some beast that had been fastened in't and then broken off--they were indeed bits of the reef--the other a great piece of limestone as big as my head, all crusted and stuck over with little disks or plates, which were, we found, rusty pieces of eight. "A sign! A sign!" says Phips, taking them from him; "now get your breath, Woods, and tell us what you have found," and this the man did, puffing and blowing freely for a time ere he could speak. Then he said, "Of the wreck, sir, I have seen nought, but surely I have found the track. All the bottom of the sea is scored as though some great thing had passed over it, and everywhere there lie great lumps of limestone such as this, and great beams such as that." "Ha!" says Phips, and with that he takes the diver's axe and splits open the lump, and there, wedged in all over it, were many more rusty old pieces. "Ha! she has left a silver track as she passed along. Go on." "So I do think, sir," says the diver, "and she cannot be afar off where I descended, unless she is all gone to pieces. And even then the bed of the sea must be full of all she had gotten inside her. But, sir, I think this is not so; I think she has been brought up short, for, close by, as I gather, is another reef." "How far off? How far off?" suddenly called out the captain, full of strange excitement. "Not two cables off, I think, sir," replies Woods, "since the bottom where I was begins to rise towards it, and therefore--" "And therefore," exclaims Phips, "it is the reef itself! Marvellous strange it seemed to me that a great Spanish galleon should have shifted at the bottom of the sea--whoever heard of a ship that moved below the water!--yet all would have it so; even you, Woods, thought so yourself! But now I know all. She struck upon a spur of the reef and not the reef itself, and she has never moved. In which direction does the rise of bottom of which you speak begin?" The diver look't round, tracing his course beneath, and then, pointing to the Boylers, or Bajo, said, "There, sir." "Why, so 'tis, of course," says Phips. "And, as I say, her keel took the first, or outside spur of the reef as she passed along, and she never got nearer to the main one. She is there! She is there! Hearts up, my lads, we have found the treasure ship!" I gave the word and up went a roaring cheer from all, one for Phips, one for the galleon, and one for what she had got in her, or about her, if she had broken up. Then Phips, all alive now, gives an order to shift the tender to the spot where Woods did consider the ridge of the spur should be, and bade the diver come along with us in it to go down again. Though, a moment afterwards, he paused, saying in his kindly way, "Yet no, Woods. You have done enough work for to-day. You shall rest easy. Now, where is that Blackamoor? He shall go." The negro came forward, his eyes glistening--perhaps with the hope of what he should find--and to him says Phips, "Get you into the dress, or, since you are new to that, into the diver's chest; that shall do very well for finding of the reef, and, perhaps, the carrack--she cannot be afar. Come, away with you." So, into the tender got the captain and I and the negro, and the sailors told off to her, and in a few moments we were apeak of the spot where Woods said the reef must be. And then to our astonishment--for we had never been this side of the Boylers before, and, consequently, had never seen any shoal water--of which, indeed, there was little ever--on looking down we saw, not three feet below the surface, the long sharks-toothed back of the spur. "Great Powers!" says Phips, "'twas here all those years we wasted on the other side, and we never thought to even come round to this. Fools! fools! that we were. We might have had the treasure back into London long ago. Now," says he, turning from his meditations to actions, "now," to the black, "into your tub and down with you." Nothing loth, for the great beast was as eager for gain as any of us, into the chest did he get and was lowered away, but scarce had the top of it sunk beneath the water when the rope quivered, then the signal was given to haul up, and back he came, and, jumping out of the chest, or bell, exclaimed excitedly, "Oh! Signor Phips. Oh, Signor Capitan Commandante. The shippy all down there. Fust ting the chest knock on cannon sticking up in water, then against her sidy, then I bery much frighted, for I see dead man's head looking at me out of hole. Oh! Capitan Commandante, the shippy there, and she full of dead men. Oh! capitan, send Massa Woods down to see if I speak truf." So you see we had found the ship "And," says Phips, that night, as we drank together, "it is my thirty-seventh year!" CHAPTER XV. WHAT THE FIRST SEARCH REVEALED. Now, therefore, have I to write down of all that, having found the ship, we found in her. Yet how shall I begin? Firstly, let me describe how it was with the carrack herself. She lay canted right over on to her larboard side, the whole of her larboard forepart broke away and stove in, and crushed as would be an egg beaten in with a hammer. And in the fifty years--if it were so long--in which she had been there she seemed to have grown so much to the reef, or the reef to her, that they seemed part and parcel of one another. She must, we could see at once, have struck full head on, and the wicked teeth of the rock had torn her forepart to pieces. Whether at once she heeled over and sank was never to be known now, or whether she filled and sank after a while. Perhaps 'twas the latter, since, otherwise, it was not to be understood how those sailors whom Geronimo had known and danced with, and sang with, could, had she turned over in a sudden shock, have ever collected together the plate they had, and have gotten away in the open boat. Aft, from the beginning of her waist above, she was not broken into at all, being quite sound Od her starboard side as she lay, though, as we found, her larboard side aft, which lay on the bottom, had rotted somewhat and bulged away, so that what was in her on that side was, indeed, lying on the sea's bed. Her masts and yards were all broke off short, and the broken pieces, into which the limestone had not wedged itself and so held them down, had doubtless risen and floated. And this must have been the case with the stern-rail which the old Portuguese had seen, though why that went adrift we never rightly understood, since no other part of the stern was gone. We found all this out later on, as you shall see, when we determined what we must do; but now Phips and I went apart to hold a conference, the first thing he said being, "Nick, we have found the plate ship, therefore is one, nay, the greatest, of our difficulties over. But with this begins the necessity for great caution. For, see you, Nick, we cannot trust the overhauling of this ship to the two divers alone. We must know all that is in her, and we must see that all comes safe up and into our hands. What, therefore, shall be done?" "Easy enough," says I, "to answer that. It's for you or me, sir, who are the responsible officers, to be divers too." This I said, for I had quickly caught his meaning. Then I went on, "As for myself, I will cheerfully go down." "Have you ever dived?" asked he. "No," I replied, "but I can soon learn myself to do so. Woods had never used this dress until a little while ere he came aboard the _Furie_; yet, now, see what he can do; and what he can, so can I. Therefore, unless you go I will." He thought a little while--perhaps communing with himself as to whether 'twas not his duty to go--but at last he said, "Well, that way is p'raps best. You shall go, but to-day--since it grows on apace--there shall be no new descent. To-night we will rest, and then begin the work to-morrow. That shall suffice." So we did no more that day, only we signalled for the bark to come nearer to us and so anchored her a little closer to the Bajo, and then all who were in the tender went off and into her for the night, the spot by the reef being buoyed, though there was little enough need for that, since, now we knew where to look, we could easily see the shoal water. One thing we desired to know, so sent for the black to tell us--namely, what he meant by saying that he saw a dead man looking at him from a hole. "Oh! signor," he said, when he had come in to us, "oh, signor, I see him berry plain. He leanie right out of big porthole, his body half way out, his bony hands holding to the sides, his bony skull turned up to me." "Nonsense," says Phips, "his hands and head would have fallen off long ago. You dreamed it, man!" But the black asseverated that he had not dreamed it, and so we left it until to-morrow to see. Now, when the morning came, at once we made our preparations for the descent. Woods and I were to go down first, he telling me that it was nought to do; that to begin with I should feel a suffocation which would soon pass away, and that, excepting I would seem to be surrounded by green glass full of bubbles, 'twould not be so very strange. Moreover, he told me to fear nothing, no, not even a shark if he came near me, for he would be more affrighted than I, since he knew not what I might be. So down to the carrack we descended. First went Woods, saying he would wait for me at the bottom to set me on my feet, and so, as easy as ever, over he went and disappeared from all sight, and then my turn came, and the sailors lowered me from the gunwale. In a moment I was sinking through the waters, all blue and green and bubbling, passing as I went the cannon sticking up from its port--it had been left run out when the ship sank, and was a long Spanish one, its muzzle formed like a snake's mouth, and looking three times the size it really was, since the water much magnified it--and so down, seeing fishes dart all around me, looking with frighted eyes at my strange figure. Then I felt my feet clasped by Woods and placed firm upon the bottom, and I was there. And what a strange sight did meet my eyes! Firstly I perceived I was not on the bottom at all, but standing on the upturned starboard side of the ship, quite near by the great cannon, and also to an open port. Yet, as she was not entirely canted over but lay at an angle, 'twas very hard work to support oneself steady, and I was very glad to cling to a stanchion for the time. But, now, Woods taking me by the hand did lead me up the chain wales and so over the bow, until I stood with him upon the deck, which was here not difficult; and then I look'd around. The first thing to be perceived was that the whole of the deck was swept clean of most that had been on't, except such things as the hatch-hoods which were fixed, the after bittacle, the stumps of the broken masts, and so forth. The cannons, too, had slid down owing to the incline of the wreck, and did all lie huddled on the lower, or larboard side, and the hatches were mostly open. Wedged in among the cannon were some bones and a skull, so that now I knew that the negro had seen this in his descent, and had thought the black muzzle of the cannon was a porthole. And now, Woods making to me a sign to follow him and pointing to my air-pipe--which, he had told me before he came down, I must by no means get twisted, or the air would cease--he set his foot upon the after hatch-ladder, and, so, slowly descended, I following. So did we go down to the middle deck, around which were placed the cabins or berths. And now I was to see a sight enough to freeze anyone's blood, even though so old a sailor as myself. For first we went into the main or living cabin, and there we observed what Death had done in its most grisly way. We saw huddled into a corner of it the clothes of a man and woman, within them still their bones, and they were, or had been, locked in each other's arms--the long hair of the woman lying close by the fleshless head. Then did we see in another corner another woman--her mass of hair pale and golden, like to an Englishwoman's, and in her bony arms she held also some little bones and a skull, which told a sad tale--it was a mother and her poor babe, who had perished together. And, around and about all, there swam and darted away as we drew near hordes of fishes, though 'twas long since they had made a meal of these poor dead things. But now I could stay no longer, being as yet not used to my strange head-dress of copper, so I made to Woods a sign that I must go above, and so we went forth, and, giving of the signal, were drawn up to the surface again. And once more I breathed the air of Heaven and was very grateful therefore. Then Phips took both me and Woods aside, asking us what we had found, and we told him--he sighing at the sad news from below--and also did we tell him how, as yet, we had done no more; so says he, "Well, courage, Nick; when next you go down you shall find better than these poor dead ones--what think you, Woods?" "I hope so, sir," says he, "since all around the main cabin are many sleeping ones in which there should be some sort of things of value, and then must we break away the middle-deck to get to the lower, where the plate, if any, should be." "If any!" exclaims Phips. "Why, now, I do believe from all reports I got from Cuba years ago, that she is full of it! She was, besides being a galleon, taking home the Adelantado, or Governor, and his family, and also some others. If we find not a hundred thousand's-worth at least 'twill be little enough good for me." Woods opened his eyes at this, for tho' all knew we sought for treasure, none knew that she might have so much within her; indeed, none had been told what she might contain. And, now that both ship and tender were apeak over the wreck and nothing could be brought up without being seen by all in them, there was no longer any secret to be made. Soon again, after we had refreshed ourselves, we were ready once more to go down, and Juan the Black was to go with us, only both I and Woods were ordered by Phips to keep an eye on him. This brute was, as we knew, a Coromantee, and, from all accounts, they are not only the biggest thieves of all the Blacks but very ferocious as well. Moreover, neither the Captain nor I fully believed in his keeping us waiting off Porto only so that he might get drunk, and we knew not if he and the old Portyguese, or he and some other villains, might not have been concocting some precious scheme to defeat us. But we had no dress for him, only a copper bladder-head, which, however, would do very well, since the creature was ever naked and certainly wanted no garments in which to enter the water, and was so strong that he said the water could not press on him to hurt; and so, taking the longest air-pipes we had for all of us, again down we went, all arriving on the middle deck one following the other--Woods first, I next, and the negro last. As we passed into the main cabin we saw the Black's great copper head bent over to the dead where they lay huddled, and then suddenly darted back, so we knew--or, at least, I did know--that to his other qualities he added that of fear and timorousness. And now, seeing that on the bulkheads, or on the cabin doors, could be still read the painted names, such as "Capitan," "Teniente Po,"[4] "Pasagero,"[5] and others, I motioned to Woods to burst open with his axe the captain's door and let us see what was within. This was soon done, since in nature the woodwork was somewhat rotten, and, moreover, 'twas not fast, and so we entered, or clambered, into it. The bed, or bunk, which was very large and roomy, we could observe, even after the fifty years that had passed, had not been slept in since it was made; therefore we did conclude the captain was above when the ship struck, and so was lost. For the rest there were, all shifted into the corner of the cabin, two great heavy chests clamped with iron, and on them great padlocks, and these we decided must at once go up to the tender. So we lifted them up with much ado and affixed them to the slings, and then they were gotten up. And now I was becoming so used to my strange habit that, beyond a singing in my ears that went and came, I felt no inconvenience, and was, though not rash, very busy about the main cabin. And in this way I entered into a berth which we made no doubt was that set apart for the Adelantado of Cuba, since all showed it to be so. The swords about the cabin, the rich clothes, though soaked with water, of both a man and a woman proved this to be the case, as did the great chests that had slipped about the place and the bed. And herein was another terrible and ghastly sight. In that bed lay two human forms, or what had been human forms once, though now but skeletons, the two skulls being side by side, the woman's hair being a great black mass upon the coverlet like a pall. So they had died together, he who had ruled Spain's greatest colony and she who had acted for Spain's Queen. And this was all left of their greatness! Poor things! But we had to see to the chests and what was therein contained, since doubtless the Governor had much. And since they were bursted open, perhaps by the shock of the ship striking on the reef, we peered therein and saw things enough to make one gasp, even more than I did in my strange head-dress. For, lying in the water of the chests, or leastways of one chest, were golden plates and ewers and candlesticks and sockets, all of them set in with pearls and rubies, and there, too, were caskets, not open, but so firmly fixed and locked that very well might one guess what should be within. Also on this chest--for the others contained, as we could see, but wearing apparel for both of them--were many other choice things, such as comfit boxes, necklaces, the jewel'd orders of the Adelantado, the gems and brilliants of his lady, some jewel'd swords and daggers, and several great bags or sacks full of gold coins. Verily it was a great sight for us to see--as for the Coromantee, he thrust his helmeted head so far into the chest that we had to draw him back by main force--and I could not but feel joyful that, at last, we were in a fair way of discovering of all. For it was not to be doubted that on the deck below we should find the silver itself. But now we were signalled to from above to rejoin the tender, so, sending the black first, since it would never have done to leave him here a minute by himself, and I going up last, we returned back above the sea. CHAPTER XVI. AN HONEST MAN ARRIVES. Now when we got up to the surface again, I taking with me one of the bags of gold coins to show the Captain, we were very much astonished to see that, moored alongside of our ship was another--a small craft such as is known in England as a "snow," which is generally very fast in sailing, having a main and a foresail, as well as a trysail mast. And as I looked round after getting my head free again, I did see on her stern a great gilt star and the words "_Etoyle_, Provydence," so now I knew what she was, and, perhaps whence she came, or at least that she was from one of the Provydences. Leaning over her bows and watching us as we arose--with a twinkle in his eye, which squinted somewhat, when he saw the Coromantee--was a man whom I guessed to be the skipper, a great yellow person with a shock of black curly hair, so that I thought he must be a Mustee, and with a big slash, or scar, all along his face. And leaning over, too, were several others, sailors, all regarding us fixedly. Their eyes were set upon the bag of coins at once with, as I thought, an eager gleam in them, and then their Captain hails me and says: "What luck below, shipmate?" to which I did but grunt a word, not knowing how things stood as yet. But now comes forward Phips, who says to him: "Captain Alderly, this is our first lieutenant, who is in charge of the diving at present;" and then he turns to me and says, "Crafer, our friend has been here before--that is his ship's boat drawn up on the isle--and he thinks he should have a share of the spoil, since he found the wreck before us--_so he says_." "Does he, indeed?" I replied; "'tis strange, then, that he took not away the spoil when he found it;" and I fixed my eye on him to see what he would reply, for since, as I say, we were moored close alongside, every word spoken on one deck could be heard on the other. "Ay, ay," says that skipper, "and so I should indeed, and came here hoping to get all. But of what avail is hope? My little snow cannot fight your great vessel of two hundred tons, and we both sail under the English flag. And therefore, since I am an honest man and peaceable, I must, perforce, lose my chance. But your Captain says, sir," he went on, addressing me, "that I may have a percentum on what I help to bring up, and that must suffice. Yet, 'tis hard on an honest man!" "Ay," says Phips, nodding his head, though I did observe him closely and saw that his eyes were ever on the other. "Ay, 'tis hard on an honest man! Yet, Captain Alderly, I think your percentum will pay you very well for your trip from the Bahamas." "Not so well as the gross," replies the other, "but, as I say, it must suffice. Yet 'tis hard. I have brought with me--indeed, went back for him--a most expert diver, who I thought should have gotten me all, and now he must work for another. 'Tis hard! 'tis hard! Yet an honest man must not repine so long as he can earn his living in these times." Now, that night when we sat as was our custom taking some drink together, while, since the arrival of our new friend, the watch was doubled, Phips says to me: "Nick, I do believe that honest man is as big a scoundrel as ever hung at the yard-arm. For, firstly, if he does not come from Provydence in the Gulph of Mexico--which is infested with buccaneers and pirates--instead of Provydence in the Bahamas, I am much mistook, and, secondly, I am certain that he and that infernal blackamoor are known to one another. I have seen already glances between them, and it is my belief that when the negro was drinking, as he said, at Porto, he was devising some scheme with this fellow." "But," replied I, "even so, what can they do? Naught can come up from the wreck unperceived by us, nor could his diver get down by night without our knowing it. Therefore we are safe." "Yes," says he, "we are safe so long as we are never caught asleep. Now, as for the diving, what we will do is this. His man shall go always with Woods, and, since you like the office, the Coromantee with you. What say you, Nick?" "I like it very well," replied I; "or all can go down together. If you are above to see to the hauling up, there can be no picking nor stealing." So this we agreed upon, and then Phips went on to tell me of the arrival of the _Etoyle_ while I was below. She came, it seemed, round by our little isle, and, on being challenged by Phips as she drew near, hoisted a friendly signal, so was allowed to approach, especially as she flew the English flag. Then the skipper told the Captain that he was extremely distressed to find so large a ship there forestalling him, since, having discovered the reef some months ago, he had gone back to the Bahamas to fetch a diver and to refit, and so on. "However," says Phips, "I soon gave him to see that, even if he had been here before--which I could not dispute because of the boat at the isle--he had indeed been forestalled and missed his chance. And also I told him that we had been for four years searching for this very wreck, that we held the King's patent for fishing for it, and that we meant in no way to be thwarted or interfered with. For, says I to him, even though we had no papers, but were only pirates or buccaneers, still we would go on with our task and trust to our shotted guns--as they always are now--to help us. So then," continued Phips, "he sees that he has no chance, and asks if he cannot help in the fishing, to which I answered, 'Very willing, if you chose to do so at a fair rate.' And being anxious to get the work done and to get back home, I have given to him the same terms as to Geronimo and his sweet Blackamoor." "Tis well, sir," says I, "and now we need fear nought. While, if that negro in any way plays us false, we will shoot him like a dog. Shall we not, Captain?" "Ay," replies he, "we will, or, since they say the sharks will not eat black meat, we will make an experiment of him, and see for ourselves." So now, therefore, when the morning was come all was arranged, and, to commence, down went the three divers, and I along with them. Our plan now was to clear the whole of the middle deck of all in it, and then to break up the top part of the ship sufficient to get down to the lower or orlop deck, where the bullion room of the Spanish ships was ever placed. So we got to work, sending up at once everything found, and a mighty great find it was. All cabins not in use for the officers of the ship were full of passengers away home to their country, and all these were, it was plain to be seen, rich persons. Their bodies were found frequently--all skeletons, like unto the others--and in some cases 'twas strange to see how they strived to preserve what they most esteemed of value. Thus, round one, a female, as again the hair close by denoted, which was red, slightly fleck't with grisel, there was on the bony neck a great rope of diamonds, each as big as a nut, that all sparkled and glistened in the water, and round each wristbone there was the same in bracelets. Poor thing! perhaps she feared to be robbed and so slept thus. Then again, there was a bed, or berth, in another cabin, out of which the body had been cast by the shock and lay in a disjointed mass of bones in the corner, but in the bed itself, under a pillow, we found a great pouch of goat's skin all full of unset diamonds, rubies, and blue stones called sapphires, and also a belt full of great Spanish pieces of gold, weighing five of our elephant guineas each. And thus we went along, ransacking of every cabin, finding chests here and coffers there, full of precious stones and jewels, with bags of money and skins too, as well as, in several cases, parchment drafts drawn upon the old bank of Barcelona and the Treasury of Castile. Poor creatures! They had taken all thought to get themselves and their monies and valuables home to their land in safety. Yet had they not gotten many score leagues upon their way ere all was lost, life and everything. Nay, had they made straight for Spain, instead of coming on to Hispaniola, as they must have done to be here, they had not been lost at all. And now we had done with the middle deck, there was nought more to take away; for though there were many rich silks and satins, and so forth, all was spoilt by the water, as was their spirituous liquors and their wines, of which there was a good supply. So, after going above for to refresh ourselves, we were now ready to cut away this deck that we might descend to the place where the plate was. "'Tis a good find already," said Phips to me, as I sat at meat with him, "a fair good find, Nick; and by the time we have got up the silver we shall well have justified ourselves to our promoters. Of jewels and coin already sent up by you, there are many thousands of pounds' worth--and for the plate it shall bring us well up to the mark." Then he went on to ask me, "How I found the divers working, and if I saw any sign of anything like treachery upon the part either of the Black or the Provydence diver?" And, since I could not say that I had witnessed aught that appeared to me suspicious, he said he was very glad; and so we fell to it again for the afternoon. All that time we spent in getting the middle deck cleared away as much as might be, and in removing a great part of her starboard side, especially by her orlop beam. Also we did cut away all her timbers between her lower ports, so as to make a sufficient big opening through which to enter, and removed all between her fourth and second futtock. So that now her stern part, or at least all that below her poop and quarter deck, was open to us and gave great space. And from here we could progress right below her gun deck and waist and get up almost to her main wale, or to where her fore part began to be bruised and smashed on to the reef. Now, therefore, we had got her bullion room clear of all encumbrances, so that there was nought to do but to burst it open--it being most securely locked with great Spanish locks that looked as though they would defy all attempts except powder to open them. Yet one thing else did we see: namely, that down on the larboard side--which, as I have writ, lay on the bottom--the ship had somewhat bulged forth and some of its treasures come out. For we could observe great bars of silver lying on the bed of the sea, mostly encrusted with the limestone, yet with some part sticking forth and glistening brightly. One piece alone, a great sow of silver which had fallen from the bursted bullion room, was so heavy that all of our united strengths could not lift it, nor could aught be done until, with their axes, the divers had broken away its crust accumulated in fifty years. However, at last we got it fastened to the hauling up lines and it was towed up--not without great fears to us below that it might break away and fall upon us, smashing in our heads--and when it was weighed that night we found it to be of about fifty-six pounds. And this was the beginning of the fishing up of the plate. CHAPTER XVII. AN ALARM FROM THE "FURIE." Now, it would be useless, as well as tedious to my hand, for me to write down all the little incidents that took place on board our ship day by day, and likewise to keep accounts of every ounce of silver brought up from the rich mine we had discovered. Moreover, I have weighty matters to write about--which shall be the very things to advantage those who come after me when they read this--so at once I begin again. And, therefore, I now proceed to say that ere we had been many days at our dredging and fishing, it was come to bringing of the silver up by tons, so that, at last, our _Furie_ began to sink low in the water until she almost touched the reef herself, and we became obliged to discard all ballast and use the silver in its place! I do not say that tons came up daily--since, indeed, twenty sows of about fifty to fifty-five pounds each was our usual haul, but we reckon'd now by tons. And so well had I made my calculations that I considered there to be in all thirty-two tons of silver, and this was what it eventually turned out to be. Now, since silver was worth in the London market at this time sixty pence an ounce, it was therefore very easy for us to reckon what our find would be worth when we had got all, exclusive of the jewels, wrought plate, and other things. So that, as Phips said, we must one way or another take back with us something between one hundred thousand and two hundred thousand pounds' worth. "Which," says he, "will be very good for all of us, especially for you and me, Nick. Perhaps, indeed, we need never go to sea again, though I think we both love it dearly." Though that Phips should ever cease from wreck fishing or treasure hunting I could not well believe, seeing that such things were ever in his mind. Even now, when we were doing so wondrous well, and were like to be, perhaps, the most notorious of finders ever known from any sunken ship--as, in truth, we did become--he was always a-pondering over other searches. Thus, he would ever be telling me that, not very far away from here, there had sunk the ship which was taking home Bobadilla, another Adelantado (but of Hispaniola), and that 'twas full of treasure gotten by him. Amongst other things which he said he knew there were, was a solid gold table of three thousand three hundred and ten pounds weight[6] and much coin and jewels. And he talked of coming forth from England after he had once gotten this treasure of ours home, and seeking for that. But I told him--for we were now as intimate as brothers--that first let us finish this job, and then time enough to think of others. Now, our next task was to get into the bullion room, and this we did after very considerable difficulties, seeing that those locks of which I spake were so extremely strong; but even they yielded to us at last, and we got to it. And, Lord! what a sight was there! The silver was packed in bars and sows and bags, tons and tons of it, so that verily I did come to think that our ship of two hundred tons would never move again, unless 'twere to sink, and that we should never get all up. Yet, as it did happen, what we found was less than our ballast, which for a two hundred ton ship is usually twenty-five tons of iron and thirty tons of shingle; so in that respect all went very well. During all this time Alderly had been behaving in such a manner that there was no earthly fault to be found with him, and so, it is but just to say, had our Coromantee. They, the men of Provydence, helped at the hauling with a good will, working hard all day long, and singing cheerfully and pleasantly at night, and Alderly even went so far as to express himself satisfied enough with what was to be his portion, or percentum. For, he said-- "Never did I think there was aught like this in the ship, and, though I do see very well what I have lost, yet also do I see my gain, and shall go back to Nassau a very well satisfied honest man." And his diver, who was a Bermudan, descended of the early English settlers in that island--which rich Mr. Waller, whom I had often seen about the late King's court, a gentleman and a poet, wrote so much about in its praise--certainly did do his very best, and so did the negro, both working under Woods. And in this way, though a careful watch was always kept on all that was found below the surface and all that came above, they did so manage to delude us and throw dust into our eyes, that--but this you shall find later. They were villains all, and they deceived us, yet at last a righteous vengeance was had of them. So I go on. Now it came about at this time that we ran short of fresh water--which in such a tropic place is above all things the first necessity of man--and so it was arranged that I should take the tender and go to our isle in charge of her, leaving Phips to do as he had ever been doing, namely, superintending the bringing up of the plate to the surface. In my place as chief diver, or officer in charge of the divers, there was to go down our bos'un, a worthy, honest man, who could be trusted in all. The tender was--as Heaven would have it, and as 'twas afterwards most providentially proved--a very fast, swift sailer, and was a Dutch galliot that had come to Porto, and had been seized for debt by the man from whom we bought her. Also she was armed, or rather fit to be armed, having cannon-ports in her sides capable of taking small cannon, and, as we never trusted in this region to chance, I took with me four of our little guns, a swivel gun, and, of course, our muskets. As you shall see, 'twas well I did. They were soon to be wanted. So we parted from our companions, to be gone from them for two or three days at most, yet there were some of us never more to meet in this world. So I parted from my tried friend and comrade, Phips, thinking that we should sail home together as we had sailed out--yet, alas! but little more was I to set eyes upon him in this world neither. Both of us were to succeed and prosper--though he to die young--yet were we only to come together once again for a short time. Yet, why digress from my story? Better to go straightforward and plain, and so make an ending. We reached our little isle, and rounding the point to get to our old landing place, lost sight of the _Furie_, and, taking the boat after we had anchored her in "Safety Cove," as we called it, all went ashore but two, being right glad to once more step on land for a stretch. We meant that day, by Phips' leave, to take our ease, to lie about, and to gather some of the sweet fruits that therein do grow, and to catch some fish to take back to our comrades. Then, the next day, we did intend to fill up our casks, cut some wood for the cook's galley, and so back. And this we did do, getting yams and shaddocks, and so forth--and catching of many pounds of what in these parts are called mullets, though, indeed, they are full-sized trouts, and many crayfish and some soft-shell'd crabs. So the day went and we lay down to sleep. And on the next we fished again and gathered more fruits; we filled all our casks and carried them in the boat to the galliot; we cut and corded of the wood, and made all ready for rejoining the _Furie_ at daybreak, since on that burning sea the first two hours of day are best and coolest. Then the muskettoes are, I think, not awake, the sun is not so fierce as later, the air is cool and fresh, with generally a soft pleasant wind. So that second night, ere we lay down, we put in all our fruits, our ananas, bananas, toronias, limes, and wild apricots, as well as some wild parrots we had shot, which are sweet and good eating, and then all was done and we distributed ourselves for taking of our rest. Only we set a watch, there being six of us in all, and so broke the night into three, I and a young lad taking the first watch. 'Twas eleven of the clock, as we made it by the nearly full moon, when we were relieved, and all was most calm and peaceful. The birds of the isle were all long since hushed to rest, and even the insects that do here abound disturbed us not. So I and the boy lay ourselves down, and soon we were asleep. How long I so slept I knew not, yet 'twas not day when I awoke, springing up as did the others, all as though shot, while the watch came running to us. For through the calm night air--or, rather, that of the morning, for the chill told us the dayspring was nigh--there had come the loud booming of a cannon--Once, twice! "What did it mean?" we asked each other, with wonder starting from our fresh opened eyes. "What did it mean?" and then all with one voice we exclaimed, "'Tis from the _Furie!_ from the _Furie!_" So, swift as we could run, down we got to the boat, and so by threes to the galliot--for although we heard no more cannon, we knew that our place was in the ship at such a time--and getting to her and all in at last, we dragged up her anchor, pulled in the boat, and, to the fresh breeze arising with the coming day, shook out her main, her mizen, and her gaff-main sail. And so out of the cove and away. And as we did so, up over the trees of the little isle there went from the neighbourhood of where the _Furie_ lay two bright blue rockets, which, as Phips and I had agreed upon, should be the signal for our immediate return, as well as to warn us to be ready for danger. CHAPTER XVIII. TREACHERY AND FLIGHT. "What can it mean?" the sailors asked of one another as we got into the open, while, for myself, I was as lost in wonderment as it was possible to be. Naturally, my first thought was that the _Furie_ had been attacked by either the Spanish or the French, the first from St. Dominic, or the latter from Aittii. Yet I knew not either how this could be, since the sound we had heard was that of our own cannon, which I knew well enough, we having practised all of them considerably on our voyage out. Moreover, two cannon shots, and that from one side only, do not make a battle, so I was sorely puzzled as I stood at the tiller of the galliot. Yet when we had rounded the point, 'twas pretty easy to perceive what had happened. For in the rays of the waning moon we did see that the Provydence ship had got away from the _Furie_, and that, with all her sails filled, she was shaping her course to the south-east. And in another moment also did we see that the Snow's trysail mast was shotted away--broken off clean down, leaving but a short stump, and with the sail itself all a-dragging in the water. And now from us, as we headed for the _Furie_, arose a babble of talk and questionings as to what this must mean, while all of us decided that, at least in some way, these scoundrels had managed to steal some of the sows of silver, or the bars or bags, and to get away from our bark in the night. But ere long we knew how much far worse than these things were; we knew that we had been robbed of a terrible deal of what was ours. And soon, too, we knew it. For when our course was still set dead for the _Furie_, we did see coming towards us with great swiftness one of the cotton-wood canoes we had made--under Phips' direction and partly with his own hands--and in it three of our men, who instantly signalled to us that we should come about and pick them up, for, calls out one to me-- "You must away, sir, at once after those villains, and we are to go with you to help. For they have robbed us, the thieves, oh! treacherously! They are, after all, but buccaneers from the Provydence in the Gulf." So, much startled, we did bring ourselves to, putting our foremast aback, and throwing off a line to the canoe, and so had them all soon aboard, and then, losing no time, away after the Snow we went, while from the _Furie_ we saw Phips standing on the poop a-waving of his hands as though in encouragement or farewell, and from her there did, come a ringing English cheer. And now we were to hear a story indeed of treachery unequalled, of villainy extreme. For it appeared, as I did gather from our bos'un, who had come to join us with the other two, that these scoundrels had all along been a-planning of their scheme; and thus it happened. After we had sailed for the isle, it seems that the bullion room was rapidly emptied of the plate, so that, at last, there was gotten up thirty-two tons in all, and then 'twas perceived that below the sows and bars there was still much else, so that the place was a very treasure-hold of wealth. For there were more bags of gold pieces and more of silver, which were at once took up into the _Furie_--and then underneath them there were two chests marked with the names of the Adelantado and of his wife. And feeling sure, as they did, that herein must be great wealth, the curiosity of the bos'un--as, wringing his hands, he did tell me--was too great for him, and so, not being a discreet man, which neither was Woods, they opened of the chests and saw in them a startling sight. For there, free now from the layers in which once they had without doubt been enveloped, they did perceive jewels of all kinds, pearls, diamonds, the blue sapphires, and much else. Then alarmed at having so looked, they decided that they must not tell the Captain of their curiosity, for fear of punishment. And neither did they tell him (which, if done, might have saved all that followed) that both the Black and the Provydence diver had seen anything. So, saying only to Phips that such chests were down there, they said no more, and arrangements were made that on the morrow all should be brought up. And this, 'twas thought, should finish off the fishing, and soon we should be ready for home. But alas! how far off from that were we now. Therefore, since the plate was being got up on the first day we were away in the tender, which was the galliot, and also on the second, it came to be that the chests of which I speak were but discovered too late that second day to be brought up. Now, on that night the watch forward was kept by the negro, Juan, and the after-watch by a sailor, who was a dull-pated, heavy fellow, of little use in a ship at any time and one who ought never to have been with us. And, as it was discovered later, Juan had been plying this man with drink which he had concealed, so that on his watch--as though his stupidity was not enough--the fellow was flustered and sleepy. At midnight Phips went to his cabin all being well, and the master's mate came forth to take his place--and, terrible to relate, from that time never was he heard of nor seen again. The bos'un who told me all this said he thought either that the Coromantee murdered him, or that one of the crew from the _Etoyle_ got aboard and did do that office; but, any way, he disappeared. Perhaps he was first stunned and then given to the sharks. Who knows?--leastways, there was no sign of blood. Then, next, it would seem that from the far side of the _Etoyle_ the diver of that ship must have been most quietly lowered into the water, must have passed under our forefoot--I mean of the _Furie_--and thence to the bullion room of the wreck, and so fastened the lines to the chests that, with his own help below, they could easily get them up to the _Etoyle_. And then, when this was done, there was but to get up sail as quick as possible, and away. And that was not so hard of accomplishing as a sailor might think. For, firstly, the _Etoyle_ was not anchored, but moored and made fast to the _Furie_, so that, while all were asleep below, and while the master mate was murdered and gone, the after-watch drunk and stupid, and the fore-watch a traitor and conspirator, that Snow might very easily be unmoored. Therefore, it was but to get up the sails and catch the fast rising morning breeze, and so off and away. Moreover, so deeply was the plot laid, that, as 'twas found shortly, the door of the captain's cabin was made fast from the outside, the ladder was set loose of the main hatch, so that, when the men came tumbling up, it shifted, and they came tumbling down instead, and two of the cannon's touch-holes were spiked. Yet, whoever was the wretch who did all this, still was he a fool likewise, since in his haste he had not spiked the cannon that gave on the bow from which the _Etoyle_ must move, but on the other. But now, as they brailed up their sails they could not disguise the noise they made, and in a moment Phips heard them, being ever on the alert, and was at his door, sword in one hand and pistol in the other, to get out. And, said the bos'un to me, his cries were terrifying to hear when he did discover how he was trapped. First he smashed with his fists a panel, all the while he was roaring for his men to come and set him free, and also for his poor dead master's mate, and then he flung himself against the door with such fury that it gave way, and out he came. "He look't, sir," said the bos'un to me, as he told all this while we were tearing through the water after the buccaneers, who I did see sorrowfully were gaining on us, "he look't like a demoniac. And when he saw that the _Etoyle_ was already under weigh, his rage was such as mortal man might indeed fear to see." It appeared from this man's account that Phips in his madness discharged his pistol at Alderly, who was on the poop, and miss't him, whereupon Alderly returned his fire, missing also; that next the captain called for the gunner, who could not get his linstock ready all at once, and by this time the sails of the _Etoyle_ had caught the breeze and she was under weigh. "Haste! haste! man," cries Phips to the gunner, now running with his light, and snatching it from his hand applies it to the breech himself, doing no harm with his shot; and then the gunner, having trained the next gun better on to the fugitives, they did hit their trysail. This impeded them somewhat, though not sufficient to prevent them getting away. And then, the bos'un went on to tell me, Phips roared for the watch, calling them, as was his wont in an emergency, dogs and traitors, and soon learnt that the poor master's mate was slaughtered, or, at least, had disappeared. "And," went on our informant, "then we all trembled. For while the tears sprang to his eyes, which in an instant he dashed away, he said also, in now a very low voice which seem'd mighty ominous, 'And the other watch? The fore and aft watch. Where are they? Bring them to me.'" Then, with a howl, the Coromantee sprang forward--wringing his hands, imploring pardon, saying he too had been deceived by Alderly, who had drugged him. "Ay!" says Phips, between his teeth, while as he spake he shook the powder into the pan of his pistol--"Ay! no doubt. Deceived by Alderly. because he got away and left you behind for me to slay you." "No, no!" yelled the brute. "No, no! Signor Capitan. No, Signor Phips, no slay me!" and he clutched, said the bos'un, at Phips' legs and tried to seize his pistol hand. "Ay, but I will, though," said Phips.--"No man betrays me twice;" whereupon he drew back from the howling wretch, and seizing his wool by one hand blew out his brains with the other, so that the deck was all bespattered with them. "Fling him over," said Phips, "and swab up the mess, and now bring forth the other. Meanwhile, where is Crafer with the tender? She should be round the point by now." Then they brought forth that other poor crazed traitor--weeping and sobbing with despair, and shrieking as he saw the great negro's dead body--and to him strides Phips, his sword in hand. "You dog," says he, "you have betrayed us too. So must you die also. They say you drank with the Coromantee and slept on your watch. Therefore, to the yard-arm with him." 'Midst his shrieks and howls they dragged him away, calling on his mother's name, which softened Phips so much that, the bos'un said, he seemed at one time like to spare him, only he remembered all he had been robbed of. And then, ere the man was executed, the boat was lowered that was to bring them to us in the galliot, and so they came away. "And," said Phips to the bos'un, "tell Mr. Crafer that so long as his galliot will swim, so long as there is a man left alive in it, so long as he can sail, fight, or move, he is to follow those buccaneers--even though it be into their stronghold. And while there is one of you left alive, that one is to attempt it, and is to get back the stolen treasure. And then, when that is done, the rendezvous shall be Portsmouth town, to which those of you who live must find your way back somehow. Now go; do your duty, commend me to Nicholas Crafer and tell him to do his. And more, say that at the sign of the 'Navy Tavern' I will leave word for him or he for me--whoever by God's grace reaches there first. And reach it I pray we all may do." Such was the message brought to me, this the duty I had to perform, this the errand on which now we sped. Ahead of us, and still gaining on us, went the Snow, _Etoyle_, with the buccaneering thieves on board, and with them a fourth of our treasure; behind us slowly faded into dimness the reef and the _Furie_ moored fast to it. That Phips himself would have given chase had he been able, was certain--only, before he could have got under weigh the buccaneers would have been out of sight. For nought was ready, the plate was not bestowed away, the sails were unbent and all in disorder. So, instead, 'twas I got the commission to chase those thieves, to follow them to their lair, and to wrench back from them the stolen goods. And as the galliot danced along, following the course they had betaken--which was now set due east, so that I could not but think they did mean to 'bout ship shortly and run for Porto Rico, or, perhaps, one of the Virgin Isles--I took a solemn and a fervent oath that never would I fail in my endeavour while life lasted to me. If I could catch and defeat those thieves, I swore to do it, and so upon that I set myself to see to the arrangements necessary in our small craft, and to make all ready for what might be before us. CHAPTER XIX. THE "HONEST MAN" IN HIS TRUE COLOURS. Now, as I have said, we were--with the coming of the bos'un and the other two--nine hands in all, there having been six of us who did go to the little isle in the galliot for wood and water. Therefore my first disposition was to arrange ourselves into regular watches, which was easy enough to do, since three men at any time awake were sufficient to keep the lookout, to attend to the craft, and so forth Then next there was the provisioning to be done. Now for this there was little to disturb ourselves about, since we had all our island provisions of the fruits, the fish, and the parrots. That they should continue their course due east, as it was now set, was not to be considered, since that way they could encounter no refuge until they came to the Guinea Coast or, at best, the Cape de Verd Islands. Such, it is true, was no great run for the Snow, provided she was well enough provisioned and watered--as might or not be, for all we knew--but still 'twas not very like to be the case. The Virgin Islands in the Antilles, most of them little better than Keys, which are small sandy spots appearing above the surf of the water, with only a few weeds and bushes a-growing on them, and abounding with turtle, appeared to my mind to be far more their mark. Most of them are uninhabited, and one or two there are which are large and even rocky and craggy, but, in general, as I have said. Now, there is no Key, at the present time wherein I set down this recital, which is not the haunt and hiding place of innumerable pirates and thieves, and also used as a burying place for their stolen riches, and here it was most like that Alderly would retreat with what he had gotten. The ships of war of any countries can scarce chase them here, the lagoons, harbours, and inlets all about offering to the smaller craft a natural security, and, if the villains are encountered, their one excuse always is that they are a-turtling: viz., catching of the turtle for sale in the larger islands. So, pondering thus, I did begin to take my decision, and counsel also with those under me. For says I to the bos'un-- "That they should make for Africa is not to be thought on. Why should they do so, when all around are innumerable refuges? Therefore, Cromby"--which was the bos'un's name--"do you know what I will do?" Cromby replied--"No, he could not tell, but of one thing I might be sure: namely, that there wasn't an honest heart in the galliot that wasn't with me body and bones"; whereon I unfolded my idea. "My lads," says I, "we're alone, nine of us, and we've got to do one of two things. Either catch the _Etoyle_ and make her surrender, or meet her and fight her until one of us is sunk. Now, listen. Catch her we never shall; she sails three feet to our two; she's hull down now--where do you think she'll be at daybreak to-morrow?" "On the road to Cape Blanco," replied one, "across the water." "Take a turn north in the night," said Cromby, "slip past Abreojo and Turk's Island, and so for East Florida, or, p'raps, Cuba I doubt their touching an English island." "So do I," I answered; "yet I think you're wrong. The wind sets fair south, therefore 'tisn't likely they'll try for the north; and as for a cruise for Cape Blanco, I scarce believe they've either food or water enough. They borrowed three barrels the day before we went to our isle--like enough to provide for this jaunt! No, my lads, south is their course, and the Virgin Isles or Porto Rico their aim. Now, we shall lose 'em when dark comes on--there'll be no lights on that piratical bark!--but by the blessing of God we'll find 'em again, and it will be somewhere between Tortola and Porto Rico's northeast coast that we shall pick 'em up again, or I'm a Dutchman." And now, since the sooner they were out of sight of us, and we of them, the better--which was nigh on being the case already, so much had they got the foot of us--we slackened our gaff main sail so as to fall off still more, and gradually we lost sight of them altogether. "So," says I, mighty glad to think such was the case, and knowing well that though Phips said I was to _follow_ the buccaneers, he would approve of my plans if he knew that following was an impossibility, "put her head due south, and let's see what comes of it." And thus, that night, just as the sun set, we were off the northernmost of the islands; we could see Anegada right ahead of us, and St. Thomas too. We had arrived at the spot where I hoped, ere many hours were past, we should meet with the villains again. It began to blow boisterous, however, now, so that we were bound to keep well out to sea, not knowing what dangers we might encounter if we proceeded farther. And if there was wanted aught else to make this a dangerous chase on which we were engaged, it was that--even to help us in fine weather--we had no instruments whatever in our possession. No, not so much as a quadrant, a chart, nor even a Waggoner, though we had a meridian compass. We had no thought of nautical instruments when we left the _Furie_ for the island; above all, we had no thought of setting out upon such a cruise as this, to end the Lord knows where. Indeed, when it came to our getting back to England at some future time--if ever!--we should have to do it by running down, or rather up, the parallels, and then make direct casting for home. That would be our only likelihood, so far as we could now see, of striking soundings again in our old channel. "'Tis indeed getting dirty above us, sir," said Israel Cromby to me, pointing upwards; "I misdoubt me much of what is coming. And the current sets in towards the islands. What must we do?" "Best run out a bit, so as, at least, not to be dashed on shore. There is a good moon, which will give some light." 'Tis true there was a moon, yet so obscured by the storm that now set upon us that it was but little good except when seen through a rift in the clouds for a moment, but soon lost again. Then down from the north there came howling a most fearful tropic gale, beginning first of all in fitful gusts, so that we were obliged to haul in all our sails and scud under bare poles--knowing not where we were going, but dreading every moment to be dashed on to either a rocky bound island or a sandy Key. In God's mercy, however, it seemed that at this moment the wind did shift, so that very soon we could perceive we were not being driven towards the land, but providentially away from it, whereby if our little galliot would but live we might still weather the storm. Over her bows the sea was now coming in in great quantities, so that we were baling with the canvas buckets we possessed, while another precaution most necessary was that our powder should be kept dry. If that was spoiled, then indeed we should be at the mercy of the pirates if we encountered them. At this moment there did come a lull, the clouds broke, and through them the moon shot down a clear bright ray on the waters so troubled beneath it, and as we tossed up and down, Israel Cromby whispered to me-- "Look, look! sir, on our larboard bow"--which was the direction I was not gazing in then--"look, not two cables' length off. There are the villains!" Look I did, and there was the Snow, as he had said, riding up and down on the crest of the waves, one time up above us and towering over, another time wallowing down in the trough of the sea, with us above. They had seen us as soon as we them; and Alderly, standing forward, was regarding of us fixedly. He shouted forth something which 'twas impossible to hear in the turmoil of the lapping, swirling waters, while as the Snow sunk and we rose in those troubled waves it seemed as if he shook his fists at us. "He is, I think, a devil," said Cromby to me. "Look, sir, what he is a-doing now!" I did look, and as still we rose and fell upon the troubled waves, I saw that he was holding up with both hands a casket that looked very heavy, and shaking it before our eyes, as though to tantalize us with the sight of the stolen goods. And, meanwhiles, laughing and gibbering on the deck like so many fiends, as I have heard such creatures called, the other villains in the Snow were a-stamping and dancing round him as the vessel rolled and lolloped about in the tumbling waves. "Heavens and earth!" I exclaimed, "why, they are all mad with the drink! See to those fellows holding the bottles to their mouths. What a time to be fuddling themselves, when their ship wants all the knowledge a seaman possesses!" Even as I spoke we saw a great wave come along aft of them, break over the stern of the Snow and then wash right over the decks, knocking the men down like ten-pins and driving the craft onwards with a boust, and, as it did so, a new fear sprang to my breast. In their drunken state 'twas great odds that ere long they would go to the bottom, and their master whom they served so well, the Devil, would have them, which was no great matter to us; but what was worse was, the stolen treasure would go too. "We must catch holt of them somehow," said I. "Oh that the waves would bring us together, that we might grapple and board. Yet, what chance is there? The wave that rolls us towards them rolls them away from us. What shall we do?" "To board them, sir," said one of the men, "would be fatal to the treasure. As 'tis, they would throw it overboard. See, sir, what the madman is doing again." The sea was calming as he spoke, so that we now got uninterrupted views of each other, and then to our affright we did see Alderly fastening of a cord to the rough-tree-rail at one end, and at the other round the casket, and then lowering it over the side till it swung three feet from the top of the waves, which sometimes, as they burst against the Snow, hurled the box backwards and forwards like unto a shuttlecock. Then, next, he drew his knife, and making signs to us of what he would do by laying of the blade on the cord, he stood by defiantly regarding us. Also the drunken scoundrel and fool had made up his mind to defy us to the utmost and to be plain with us, as it was very evident to see. He had run up his colours, so that there should be no doubt left in our minds about him; on his mizen peak there flew a black silk flag, with on it a skeleton, or "death," with cross bones in one hand, and in the other a heart with drops of blood dripping from it, and also a jack of the same, with a man having a sword thrust through his body, as later I saw plainly. So he stood proclaimed a pirate. But what was, perhaps, more truly a sign of what this reckless creature was in reality, was the fact that--doubtless before the storm came on--he had abandoned the work-a-day dress of the "honest man" which he wore when first he came alongside of the _Furie_, and was now bedizened in a lot of finery, none the better for the assaults of the winds and waves. He was dressed in a rich blue damask waistcoat and breeches, in his hat a feather dyed red; around his neck was coiled half a dozen times a gold chain with a great diamond cross on to it--perhaps he had stolen it from the wreck!--hanging over his shoulders was a silk sling, with, thrust into it, three pistols on each side. All this we saw afterwards more plainly than now. "I cannot endure this defiance," said I to Cromby; "let him sink his casket and be damned to him! I have been a King's officer, and will never submit to the insults of a blackguard scoundrelly pirate. Up with the mainsail, my lads, haul away, and at him;" and as I spoke I whipped out my pistol, and, sighting him, fired. That I miss't him was none too strange, seeing how both of us were tumbling about and rolling in the water, no more than that he miss't me, as, pulling two pistols out of his sash, he fired, one in each hand. Then, when he saw our mainsail go up, he made as though he would cut the cord to which hung the casket--only a moment afterwards he altered his mind, and bellowing of an order, which we could very well hear, since now the waves and winds had abated, soon had his own sail up; and in a moment his ship had caught the wind and was away. That we should ever have catched them sufficient to come alongside and board, I cannot think, even under the best of circumstances, but this chance was not to be ours, for our ropes had fouled, so that they could not be run, and ere we could get them disentangled, the _Etoyle_ was well off from us. But since again, with the coming of fairer weather, the wind had northed, we could very well see they were running for the south. They _were_ bound for the islands! But at last we got our ropes free, and away we went too. The morn was breaking now and the waves abating, so that, though still we tossed up and down, we could see their horrid black silk flag a-flying on the mizen peak whenever we rose to the crest; and, with the white spume of the water dashed in our faces, and reckless now of what might happen so that we did but keep them in sight, we set all our galliot's sails--main, mizen, and gaff main sail--and tore after them. "We will follow them, my lads," I said now, with my blood up to boiling heat; "we will follow them to the death! There shall be but one crew left alive to tell this story." And as I spake my men gave three hearty cheers. So, having got thus far in my account, I will now rest again for a while. CHAPTER XX. A FIGHT. Now I go on to narrate the tracking of those thieves and pirates, and of what thereby followed. By midday we were off the islands, with the chase well ahead of us--yet not so far neither as she had been, since we had sailed faster than she this time, in consequence, as we soon learnt, of their having snapped their foremast--and with Negada, or the Drowned Island, so called because 'tis frequently submerged by the tide, lying not a league away. "I have been here before," says Cromby, "and I doubt their getting ashore. All around lie sand-banks and shoals that require careful navigation. If they run in here we shall fight 'em when we are both aground." "Then I do pray they will," says I. "It will be best to land, and no chance of escape for either. 'Twill suit us, my lads." The men answered cheerfully. "So 'twould, and very well!" yet as they so spake we saw that Alderly meant not to enter there. Then said I, "If it be not here, p'raps 'tis Virgin-Gorda they are for, or Anguilla"--for I, too, had been here before--"yet, 'tis not very like. There are colonists here, and have been since Charles's day." But another hour showed us that neither were these islands their aim, but, instead, a little long tract of land that, among all the others, is not marked on the chart, but is known among mariners by the name of "Coffin Island," because of its shape. Now, Coffin Island hath on it a mountain, not so very high, yet near to the beach, being inland about a quarter of a mile, and from the mountain's base there runneth down a wood to the sea, with, in it, a channel or river. This we learnt shortly, though 'tis fitting enough I set it down here. And now 'twas very plain that 'twas for this channel the desperadoes were making. With our perspective glasses we could see--as we passed the before-mentioned isles--that they were heading straight for that inlet; we could indeed perceive them get to its mouth, haul down all but their trysail, and so into the river, which was broad enough to let in a bigger ship than theirs. "After them we go," I exclaimed, "though they have all the best of it. Yet"--with a moment's reflection--"it may not be so, neither. If they get ashore, maybe they cannot take their cannon; if they stay on board, we are as good as they. How is our powder?" The men answered the powder was very well. They had carefully kept it all dry, so that we should not lack that. Therefore I gave them orders to carefully prime and load our pieces: namely, the four little guns and the swivel, and also the muskets. And so we, too, stood for the channel. As we neared it we could very well see up it somewhat, and did notice that the _Etoyle_ had come to a halt. She was not anchored, but had drifted a little down again towards the mouth of the inlet, and thus she was as we passed in, the woods growing thick on either side. And now was the time when we saw the finery in which Alderly had arrayed himself. He, as we ran in, was standing by the bows of his ship, and had in his hand a glass of liquor, and, as we drew close, he shouted-- "Trapped! Trapped, by God! You will never get out of this! You cannot escape!" "You beastly pirate!" I called back; "there is no thought of getting out. We are only most thankful to have got in. Now, will you haul down those vile rags at your peak, and give up the stolen goods and surrender, or----" "Surrender!" shouts he. "Yes, I will surrender! Like this!" and stooping down behind his bows for a moment, he picks up what was a new-fangled sort of grenadoe--being a case bottle filled with powder and pieces of lead, iron slugs and shot, with a quick match in the mouth of it--and flings it aboard us. But in a minute one of my men, a lusty youth from North Berwick, named Fernon, stoops down, seizes on it, and flings it back into Alderly's ship, where it exploded amidst their yells and curses. "Now," said I, as at this moment our crafts touched, so that the whole channel was blocked, "over their bows, under the smoke, and among 'em. Pistols and cutlashes, my lads, will do the business." So over we did go, and soon found that we had a tough job before us. For though the men of the _Etoyle_ did only outnumber us by five--namely, four men and Alderly--we discovered ere long on what a dreadful mine we were standing. As I cut down one man, giving him a wound in the neck that nearly sever'd his throat as clean as if he had cut it with a razor, Cromby whispered in my ear-- "Sir, what shall we do? Down below stands a great negro over two barrels of powder, with a lighted slow match in his hand. 'Tis evident the instant we are victorious he will blow up the Snow." The sweat sprang out all over me as he said this, and, fighting hand to hand all as I was with now another pirate, I had to pause and deliberate. Then I said-- "If you cannot shoot him we must get back to our own vessel. Try if you can get a ball into him." And now I came against Alderly and rushed at him, when I saw him settle himself against the tackle of a gun, his hand over his heart. "So," I thought to myself, "he has got his death wound. He will fall dead in a moment. Let us see for ourselves." Amidst the smoke, therefore, and firing some shots below into the hold in the hopes of slaying the negro, we leapt back into our galliot, and then, before the crew of the _Etoyle_ knew what we were at, we had pushed ourselves off of them, and, catching a little of the current of the canal or river, got drifted down some fifty yards. And here, being safe from any explosion should it take place among the others, we gave them a broadside from our guns almost before they could know we had left them. But they answered not. We heard our balls crash into the sides of the Snow, we heard her timbers splitting and bursting, we even heard the shivering of a mast or yard, and its fall on the deck--but no reply was made. No ball came back crashing into us, no report echoed ours. All was still. "Let the smoke clear off," I said, "ere we fire again. Meanwhile, keep your guns loaded. Can it be that all are slain?" The smoke did evaporate shortly, and then we learnt that 'twas as we thought. Either the pirates were all slain or--fled. We had won our day. From our rattlins, by running up a dozen, I could see on to the deck of the _Etoyle_, and perceive men lying about dead. Also, too, could observe the deck stained with blood, the fallen mast bearing the vile silken flag a-lying across one man--it having smashed his head in as it fell. But though I gazed at the gun tackle where I had seen Alderly, he was not there now, neither near it nor by it. Had he therefore escaped? "We must board the _Etoyle_ again," says I; "yet since the negro with his lighted match may still be by the powder, I will go alone first, as is my duty. Lower the boat." Since I had regained our tender I had been standing enrapt, gazing with all my might at the smoke first, and then up into the shrouds again at the enemy, taking no heed of my own craft. But now, as no one stirred, to my hearing, to obey my orders, I turned round sharply to chide them, but as I did so I started and felt myself go pale. "Good God!" I exclaimed, "good God! What is this?" There were but three men, I recollected in an instant, that had leaped back into the galliot from the Snow, and those three men were here in the ship behind me. But, alas! two were now dead; the third, Israel Cromby, was a-lying on his back, gasping out his last few breaths. "Oh!" says I, "oh! my poor men--this is a sorry sight for any commander to see. Cromby, man, it is ill with you, I fear?" He opened his eyes, all covered with a film like a poor partridge a gunner has knocked over, and then he whispered-- "Sir, sir. There is a poor old woman down Rotherhithe way--she is--my mother. She--drawed--my money--tell her--she has no other means whereby to live--if you--get back, see to----. Sir, I've done my duty." So he died and joined the others, and went his way to meet his God. And I was left alone. From the _Etoyle_ there came no sound, nor from the woods neither did any come. So I told myself this would not do. I must be stirring. Thinking which, I lowered down the boat, having to shift the bodies of my poor dead men to get at the tackle, and then got down into it, and so to the _Etoyle_. It was no use wasting time when I got to it, I reflected; if any were alive of the enemy they must be encountered soon or late--as well now as then. And the negro I did feel sure was dead. Otherwise, he would have blowed up the Snow or else come forth. Making fast the boat, I clambered up over the side of the buccaneer's craft, and then I saw pretty quick all that had happened, looking first to see for the negro. He was done for, as I had imagined, and was lying flat on his back at the foot of the hatchway, his match burnt out in his dead black hand, which, I saw later, had been singed and scorched by the flames; yet that hand had been perilously near to the powder-barrels while the slow match lasted, as it lay all stretched out. On the deck they laid about, my men and Alderly's, as they had fallen, and I did perceive that our broadside had finished up one or two at least of the latter, who were still breathing when I got aboard, though not long after. Of my six men who had fallen there, I made instantly a burial, tying shots to them and heaving them over the side--for I would not have the birds of prey--many of whom were hovering about the banks of the river--tear and devour them. This I did do when I felt sure they were indeed dead, but of the pirates I took no heed--the birds might have their bodies (as I doubted not the Devil had got their souls by now), for all I cared. One thing--or rather two--I did not find which I would very willingly have done. There was no sign anywhere of either Alderly or the casket he had flourished in our faces. Now, if Alderly had died before his men, or some of them, this would not be strange, since I knew--having hunted pirates before to-day--that the captains had ever the desire to be flung overboard the moment they were dead, and always in their finery and adornments. And this doubtless had happened to him; that is, if he had not escaped, which was, of course, possible for him to have done if he had not his death wound when I encountered him. And the casket might have gone too--though this I doubted; at least, it would not go while one man remained alive, and he would not sink it until his last gasp, at which time he might be then too feeble so to do. Yet I resolved to search the Snow, to see if any were lurking about, or if the casket was hid anywhere. 'Twould not take long to do, and even though it did, what matter? There was no call on my time. Down below, to which I went after carefully scrutinizing the deck, all was in great disorder; weapons were lying on the cabin table alongside of food and victuals, and there was a broached barrel of rumbullion--or kill-devil--a-standing in the middle of the cabin, with a scooper, or long-handled ladle, hard by, which doubtless they had drunk from by turns; and since they were drunk when we met 'em in the night, I supposed they had been drinking ever since they had deserted us. Leastways, the barrel was half empty, yet none was spilled. Here was the body of a man shot into the head, and very ghastly--I doubted not he had fallen down the hatch when struck, or, may be, run down for drink to ease him. And now, seeing this corpse set me off a-calculating how many there had been in the _Etoyle_, and how many there were now--whereby I should get the difference of those in the ship, and those who had been flung, or fallen over, or--if it might be so--escaped. And, at last, I did arrive at the solution that but two were missing; namely, the villain Alderly and his diver. Therefore, even allowing them to be alive, all but three of both crafts had been killed in the fight. And if those two had escaped it must be by having leaped overboard in the smoke and confusion--'twas certain they had not taken their boat, for it still lay along their deck, upside down, where they always kept it, as I had seen often when they were moored alongside the _Furie_. Now it had a shot in it from one of our guns, I did perceive, which was perhaps the reason it was not used--though their haste to get away was more like to be the cause. Yet, I pondered, if they had hastened away, where was then the treasure? The casket alone would almost, I should judge, sink a man who endeavoured to get ashore with it, though it was but a few yards to swim--how could it be, therefore, that they and their stolen prize had got away? The truth, I did conceive now, was that all, Alderly, diver, and treasure, were at the bottom of the river. But by this time the night was approaching, vastly different from the former one, it being calm and cloudless; and I was worn out with want of rest, and with the fighting and excitement. So I resolved I would take a night's repose, and then in the morning I would explore the island carefully--'twould not take long, being not a league in length nor half as broad, as I knew; above all, I would see if I could find the goods you wot of. As for the two pirates, I feared them not one atom; face to face, I deemed myself--a king's late officer--the match for any two dirty pirates that ever breathed. So I let go the _Etoyle's_ anchor and made her fast for the night, and then rowed me back to my galliot and prepared for my rest. CHAPTER XXI. THE VILLAIN'S DEN. 'Twas as I have writ, a night vastly different from the precedent one, beautifully calm in this little channel, or river, with the moon arising behind the wood that bordered its eastern bank, and with a cool breeze coming from the sea and rustling through the leaves. And as the moon rose above the treetops she flooded all the river with light, making a great shadow of the _Etoyle_ on the water, and also of the galliot. I lay me down upon the deck of my craft wrapped in a boat-cloak, as soon as I had gotten things a little ship-shape for the night (I had anchored the galliot before I went off to the Snow), but sleep came not easily. There were, indeed, many things a-running through my brain. Firstly, there were my poor dead sailors sleeping below in the water--probably already food for the great variegated crabs that do here abound--whom I could not but lament, and especially Israel Cromby, with his dying thoughts of the poor old dependent mother at Rotherhithe. Then there was the position to be thought of in which I now stood. I had the galliot to get me away in, 'twas true, to the adjacent islands, some of which were inhabited by my own countrymen, and not far off neither--but, supposing I got back the treasure from the pirates, should I ever get it safe home to England? I knew not, as yet, how much it was; whether the casket was all or only a portion; whether also that portion was a huge mass of gold or silver, or a small one of jewels. Above all, should I get it in any form or shape whatever? Was it buried in the river ere the last of the pirates died, or were those two men alive, and had they got ashore and buried it there? Still my fatigues were such that, in spite of all my conflicting and unhappy thoughts, I slumbered at last. Long and peacefully I slept aboard the little craft, which had none other now but myself for its inhabitant, with the cool night wind blowing all over me, and freshening me as I lay. Yet I awoke ere daylight had come--startled by something, I knew not what! The moon was at her full height now, the channel was as light as day, 'twas that, I thought to myself, had waked me; and I turned over on my side to sleep again. Yet, as I dozed, and should soon have been gone again, once more I was disturbed. "Perhaps 'tis a beast," thought I, "in the wood, crashing through the undergrowth,"--for such I fancied to be the sound--"perhaps 'tis--"but here I ended my speculations, for I saw what had aroused me. 'Twas the two villains, Alderly and his diver, a-standing on the bank of the river gazing into it. 'Twas their steps I had heard crunching on the underbrush. Now it did so happen that our galliot had a cabin aft, with, cut into it on either side of the sternpost, two portholes, so that, lying here, I could very well see through those scuttles what they were a-doing without their seeing me. Whether they thought I was not in my vessel I could not guess; or whether they knew I was, having watched me all the latter part of the day from the wood, but deemed me now asleep, 'twas impossible for me to tell--yet doubtless 'twas the latter, since they seemed wary in their movements. Yet was it obvious to me, watching them as I did, that both were still under the influence of the drink; as they stood gazing into the water, first one would give a lurch, then the other, or one would hiccough, and the other would curse him under his breath for making of a noise; and once the diver--whose name I knew not--nearly fell forward into the river, and would have done so, had not Alderly clutched him and hauled him back. And all the time the moon enabled me to see the latter's tawdry finery, all smirched with dirt, with powder and filth, and his broken feather in his hat, and the stains and grime about him, while, as for the other, he had nought but the coarsest of apparel upon him. Now, seeing they were still drunk, I did begin to think they had a resort of some sort in this isle, perhaps comrades upon it from whom they could get drink, since 'twas hours since they had had any in the Snow. Which led me to reflect that, if there were more of these wretches here, my case was a bad one. However, watching of their actions drove these reflections from out my head, for a time at least. Presently, one, Alderly, stoops him down, going on to his hands and knees and, baring his arm up to the shoulder, thrusts it into the water, and begins moving it backwards and forwards as though feeling for something in it. And shortly he found what he wanted, for he lifted up a stone as big as my head, with round it a rope that ran on, into, and under the water as he lifted of it up. This was easy to perceive, for the drops of water sparkled on it like diamonds as he held it at his end. "Ha!" thinks I to myself. "I do guess what's at t'other end now. Well, well, we will see." Yet, as I so thought, I looked to my priming. I thought it would not be very long ere I should have to shoot these two ruffians, and take my chance of there being more of the same sort on the isle. But the time had not come yet, I did perceive, and meanwhile I lay perfectly snug watching their doings. A moment after Alderly had gotten the stone and rope up, he threw away the former, and began, with his comrade's assistance, hauling and tugging at it, and presently they got ashore from under the water a long box of about four feet--though 'twas not what I expected to see, namely, the casket. This, I made sure, would have been fished up, but 'twas not. I never did see it again. 'Twas plain to observe there was no more to come, for no sooner was this box up than they made as though they would depart, Alderly letting the rope drop back gently into the water; and then, as I could see by his gestures, making signs to the diver to pick the box up and carry it. But this led to an argument between them; I could observe them shrugging of their shoulders with a drunken gravity, lurching about now and again as they did so, and stumbling against the box more than once; and then, suddenly, I perceived Alderly strike the other in the mouth and knock him down. "Now," thinks I, "this leads to more things. If they go on like this, there will be only one pirate soon for me to contend with, so far as I know." Even as I pondered, my words came true. The diver got up, whips out a long knife, and made a rush at the other--the weapon sparkling as though it was dipped in phosphorus in the rays of the moon--and in another moment they had closed together. But Alderly was the best man of the two--which was perhaps why he was chief of the _Etoyle_--and ere long he had hold of the other's wrist with one hand and had got him round the body with the other. Then, by degrees, he did bring the body down until it lay across his own knee, face upwards, and having, as I did see, the strength of a bullock, or a vice, he forced the other's arm up and down, directing so his clenched hand that he compelled him to plunge his own dagger into his own breast. Once, twice, thrice, he did it!--the diver screaming with the first plunge of the knife into his bosom, groaning with the second, and with the third making no noise. Then Alderly lets go the diver's fist from out of his own, and frees his own body from his grasp, and down the diver fell to the brink of the river. "You slew yourself," says he, looking down at him; "'twas your own knife that did it, your own hand that plunged it in." And here he laughed, an awful, blood-curdling laugh. The laugh of a maniac or a fiend! Then he put his foot to the dead man's body and tumbled it over into the river, so that I saw it no more. Next, seizing on to the long box--and nearly falling over it as he did so in his half-drunkenness--he lifted it on to his shoulder and went into the wood. Only, as he departed I saw him also lift up his foot and touch his shoe with his finger, and hold that finger up in the moon to look at; and then he gave again that awful laugh. He was a-laughing at the dead man's blood in which he had trampled! "Now," says I, "is my time; I will find out if he can also slay me. At any rate he shall not escape without doing so," and with these words I lowered the boat again, got into it and went ashore--the distance from the galliot being not twenty yards. And then, securing of the boat to the trunk of a small tree by the river's brink, I plunged in after him to the wood. Only, you may be sure, I had my pistols with me and my sword. At first the little wood was so dark that I could not see, or scarce see, the moon a-shining dimly through the thickness--a thickness all made of wild orange, citron, and pomegranate trees, as well as of campeachy trees, and mountain cabbage palms. Yet soon this wood opened out somewhat; there rose before my eyes a little glade, on which the moon did here shine as though on a sweet English field at home, and, reaching this, I perceived by stopping and looking carefully that my man had passed this way. The long grass was all trodden down--nay, so much so, that the two must have also come this way when they set out as comrades--and, since the imprints of the footsteps were most uneven and without regularity, I felt sure my drunken pirate had struggled and staggered along this track. So across the little glade I went, following ever the irregular crushings down of the grass, until I came to where it was bordered by more thick underbrush and shrub, and then, even had I doubted I was on the steps of Alderly, I could do so no longer. For now through that thick brushwood and tangled growth of briar, and lacery of trailing things, there was crushed aside a most distinct opening through which a man, or men, must have passed, while, had I desired further proofs of where the man had gone whom I sought, it was before me. Lying on the brushwood, catched off and torn by a thorn, was the broken end of Alderly's red feather, the piece that had hung down over his savage face as he forced the diver to slay himself, and that gave, even in that awful moment, an appearance to him of almost comicality. A comicality, though, to cause a shudder! Now did I, therefore, loosen my blade in its sheath and set my pistols in my belt carefully, for, since by this time I had gone a mile at least, 'twas not very like I should go much farther before coming on to the desperado, unless he should have turned off at an angle--a thing I could not judge he should have any reason to do. And so I went on very carefully, keeping ever a watch about and around me, so that I should fall into no trap. Soon, however, I did perceive that the path turned, as I guessed it might perhaps do, and I thought the time was not yet come for me to get up with my chase, when, to my astonishment--in spite of my former ideas that there might be other buccaneers upon this isle--there came to me the sounds of singing and revelling, of shouting and whooping and drinking of healths, and clapping of canikins or glasses on a table. "The health," I heard a voice shout, "of Winstanley, the diver of Liverpool, the man who strove to contend with Alderly. His health in the place where he is gone, and another to his taker off!" And then there followed the banging and smashing of drinking vessels on the table again, and huzzas and shriekings. Next uprose a voice a-trolling of a song. "When money's plenty, boys, we drink To drown our troubles, oh-oh! Carouse, revel, and never think, Upon the morrow, oh-oh!" "When money's plenty," I heard Alderly repeat. "When money's plenty! Why, and so it is, my blithe lads. Look here in this box, my hearties. Here's enough and to spare for all. Diamonds, sapphires, pearls, gold and silver. Ha! ha! Drink, my lads. Give me the bowl. Peter Hynde, my lad, drink up, and you, Robert Birtson, and Will Magnus, you, and you, Petty, and Crow, and Moody, and fat John Coleman. Drink, you dogs, I say, drink." "I have landed on a nest of them!" thinks I to myself. "A dozen at least, I believe. Well, I will lie hid awhile, and if they o'ermaster me, why--" "When money's plenty, boys, we drink! And bring the girls along, oh! Of blood we've shed we never think, Midst dance and jocund song, oh!" burst out the ruffian again. Then he yelled out, "A toast! a toast! The health of Phips and that accursed Crafer, whose blood I've drunk," at which I started. "So," thinks I, "he deems me dead. 'Tis perhaps best. Yet shall he learn," I muttered twixt my set lips, "that in spite of him and his horde I am alive--he shall--" "And Bess, my Coromandel girl, bring in the meats!" the villain now shouted. "Ha! ha! here she comes with the steaming turtle! Fall to, my boys, fall to; and here comes our Queen of Port Royal, our golden-haired Barbara who loves us well. My lads! a health to the girl of Port Royal!" And again there came the banging on the table of fists, then cans, and the voice of Alderly whooping and shouting. "I must see this crew," I whispered to myself, "e'en though I die for it. I must see these ruffians in their den with their loathsome womankind. I have four shots in my belt, and a good sword. All must be drunk and _I_ am sober! I will do some execution amongst them." So through the brushwood I went a pace or so, parting the leaves as gently as might be--though that I should be heard there was no fear amidst the infernal clamour and din and shouting of Alderly. Then, next, I saw before me a hut, or big cabin, built of logs, with a wide, open door and thatched with palm leaves; from out the door there gleamed the light of a lamp, and as I parted some boughs and bushes to get me a view, I could see very well into the hut. And this is what I witnessed. CHAPTER XXII. MAD! Inside the hut ran a long table on trestles; upon that table were platters and drinking vessels; on it also were some dried fruits, some pieces of dirty, coarse bread, and also some scraps of jerked beef, or, as 'tis called here in the Caribbee-Indian, Boucan; and that, with the exception of some drink in a tub, was all! There was no steaming turtle or other savoury viands, neither were there any women, golden-haired or others, nor a nest of pirates. Besides Alderly himself, there was in the hut no living soul that I could see. He was alone! Yet, in front of the table, there lay something on which my eyes could not but fasten, the long box, in which I did believe the stolen treasure was. And also by its side were three bags, or sacks, bulging out full of coin--I could see the impress made upon the canvas by the pieces within--and these I did guess had never come out of the wreck we had been fishing on. They were, I thought--and found afterwards that my thoughts were right--spoils from some others than us. The plunder of another foray! But at the time I could do nought but watch the great villain, the creature whom I could not deem aught but mad, or, at least, mad from the drink. His eyes glistening and rolling like a maniac's, he sat in the middle of the table, gibbering and grimacing to either side of him, as if the companions he had named were there; now shouting out a toast, then banging on the table with both his fists, then seizing a can or mug in each of them; next calling out in a deep voice "huzza, huzza," and then altering it to the shrill one of a woman doing the same thing. Next, he would seize the scooper of the liquor tub, and, with clumsy bows to the empty chairs or stools, for such indeed they were, would fill the glasses standing on the table in front of those chairs, though they being already full he did but pour liquor upon liquor until the whole table streamed with it. Then, for variety, he would tear with his fingers a piece of Boucan off, and with solemn gravity lay it on some tin plates near him, saying to the vacant space behind the plate: "Barbara, my sweet, 'tis the choicest piece of the haunch; I beseech of you to taste a little more"; or, "Coleman, my fat buck, take a bit more of your own kind," and so forth. Or he would crumble off a bit of his dirty, frowsy bread, and, with his filthy hands putting of it in his mouth, would say, "The turtles' eggs are at their best now. 'Tis the season. Ha! They are succulent!" Then he would drink a deep draught of the spirits by him, call a toast, and begin his bawlings and clappings again. To see the ruffian sitting there in the half-dim light--for his lamp was none of the best--grimacing and gibbering to vacancy, and addressing people who existed not, was to me a truly awful, nay, a blood-creeping sight! For now I knew what I had before me. I knew that this pirate, this man, whose hands still reeked with the blood of his comrade--one of those whom he had but recently called on them to drink a toast to--was mad with long-continued drinking and p'raps scarce any food since they left the reef; that, indeed, he had the horrors, called by the learned, the "Delirium." Still, all was not yet at its worst, as I found out and you shall see. Meanwhile, amidst his bellowings and howlings, which I need not again write down, since they varied not, I pondered on what I must do. I had the fellow caged now; if he attempted to come out of the hut I was resolved to shoot him down or run him through as I would a mad dog; indeed, any way, I was determined now to be his executioner. He was a pirate, a thief who had caused us of the _Furie_ much trouble and loss of good life--and here I thought of Israel Cromby and my other poor men, all dead!--also he was a secret murderer. He must die by my hand--but it must not be now when he was mad. I was ordained to be his executioner, I felt, but I would not be a secret murderer myself also. No! not unless I was forced to it. But, still, I decided now to advance in upon him--the position I was in was cramped and painful; the hut would be better than this, with now many night dews arising from the soil and enveloping of me, and--if the worst came to the worst--I would knock him on the head and secure him. Also, I remembered, I had the treasure to secure. So I moved into the path, rounded it, and, pistol in hand, advanced towards the door of the hut, and, standing in it, regarded him fixedly. At first he saw me not. The light was growing dimmer, so that to me he looked more like the dull, cloudy spectre of a man than a man itself as he sat there--perhaps, too, I, with nought behind me but the dark night, may have looked the same to him. Then, as he still sat talking to an imaginary figure behind him, his conversation running on the drinking and carousing he and his supposed comrade had once evidently had on the coast of Guinea, I said, clearly though low-- "Alderly, you seem gay to-night, and entertain good company." In truth, there was no intention in my heart to banter the man or jest with such a brute, only I had to let him know of my presence there, and one way seemed to me as good as another. Instead of starting up, as I had thought he might do, and, perhaps, discharging a pistol at me, he turned his head towards the door, put that head between his two hands, and peered between them towards where I stood. "Who is't?" he asked. "I cannot see you. Is it Martin come back from the isles with the sloop?" This gave me an idea that there were some comrades expected--perhaps from some other villainies! but I had just now no time for pondering on such things, so I replied: "No, 'tis not Martin. But, 'Captain' Alderly, you should know me; you drank a health to me not long ago. I am Lieutenant Crafer of the _Furie_." "I do not know you," he replied; "I never heard of you. Yet you must be dry in the throat. Come in and drink." In other circumstances I might have thought this to be a ruse--now I could not deem it such. Beyond all doubt he was mad--my only wonder was that such a desperado should not be more ferocious. Perhaps, however, this might be to come. I sat me down opposite to him and regarded him fixedly in that gloomy light, and it seemed as though I brought by my presence some glimmer of reason to the wandering brain. "Crafer!" he exclaimed. "Ah yes, Crafer! Drink, Crafer, drink. So thou hast join'd us. 'Tis well, and better than serving Phips. We have more wealth here than ever Phips dreamed of--if we could but get it away. Away! Yes! away! What might we not do if we could but get it to England! We might all be gallant, topping gentlemen with coaches and horses, and a good house, and see ridottos and--but stay, Crafer, you must know my friends." And here the creature stood upon his feet--I standing, too, not knowing but what he was going to spring at me, though he had no such intention--and began naming his phantom friends to me and presenting them, so to speak. "This," says he, "is Peter Hynde, a gay boy and a good sailor. Also he is our musicianer of nights--he singeth too a sweet song. Stand up, Hynde, and make your service. And this is Will Magnus, with a good heart, but ever lacking money till he joined us. A brave lad! 'Tis he who has cut many a throat! Barbara, my dear, throw thy golden mane back and kiss the brave gentleman--she was but a child, sir, when we found her, yet now, now, she--Ha! again that wound! How the thrust of the steel bites!" He sank back into his chair, and tore at his damask waistcoat and then at his ruffled shirt--yellow with dirt and spilt drink, and dabbled with thick bloodstains--and so, opening of his bosom, there I did see a great gash just over the heart, in his left pap. And I wondered not now that he was mad with the drink and the fever of his wound; the wonder was more that he was not quite dead. He sat a-gazing at this, with his eyes turned down upon it, and muttered, "One gave it me as from that accursed galliot, as they boarded. It seemed I had gotten my death. Ah! how it burns, how it throbs! Barbara! Black Bess! hast thou no styptic for stopping of this flux, no balm for this pain? Ha! No? Then give me drink, drink; 'tis the best consoler of all, the best slayer of pain." And here he seized his ladle, filled a glass from the tub, and drained it at a gulp. Then he wandered on again: "Barbara, get you up to the chirugeon at Kingston; tell him I am sore wounded." "Jamaica is far away from here," I said to him. "Barbara will scarce bring you aught from the pharmacie there to-night." Then, bending forward to him across the table, I said, "Alderly, you are wounded to the death; that stab and your drinkings have brought you to the end, or nearly so. Tell me truly, did this," and I kicked the box at my feet, "and these bags of coin come from the plate-ship? Tell me!" He peered at me through the deepening gloom made by the expiring lamp, as though his senses were returning and he knew me, and muttered: "More--more--than the plate-ship--this is a treasure house--" and then, suddenly, he stopped and, pointing a shaking finger over my head, stared as one who saw a sight to blast him, and whispered in a voice of horror: "Look! look! behind you. God! I stabbed him thrice. Yet now he is come back. See him, look to him at the open door. 'Tis Winstanley, the diver of Liverpool. Ah! take those eyes away from me--away--away! 'Twas your hand did it, not mine," and with a shriek the wretch buried his head in his own hands. That the murdered diver was not there I did know very well, yet the ravings of the man, the melancholy of the hut in the wood, the dimness of the lamp, all made my very flesh to creep, and instinctively I did cast my eye over my shoulder, seeing, as was certain, nought but the moon's flood pouring in at the door. Yet I shivered as with a palsy, for though no ghost was there all around me was ghostly, horrible! With a yell Alderly sprang to his feet a moment after he had sunk his head in his hands; his looks were worse now than before, his madness stronger upon him; great flecks of foam upon his lips, and from his wound the blood trickling anew. "Away! away!" he shouted. Then moaned. "Those eyes! those eyes! They scorch my very soul. Away!" And he cowered and shrank, but a minute later seemed to have recovered his old ferocity. "Begone!" he now commanded the spectre of his distorted vision. "Begone!" and with that he rushed forward, forgetting in his madness the table was betwixt him and his fears, and knocking it over in the rush. And with it the lamp went too. Only fortunately it was at its end, there was no longer any oil in it--otherwise the hut would have been burnt to the ground. But all was now darkness save for the moonlight on the floor within and on the brushwood without, and, as Alderly recovered himself from his entanglement with the fallen table and trestles, I could see it shining upon his glaring, savage eyes. And he took me--I having been knocked to the door by the crash--for the ghost of the diver, the spirit he feared so much. "Peace, you fool!" I exclaimed, "there is no spirit here, nought worse than yourself. And stand back, or, by the God above, I will blow your frenzied brains out," and as I spoke, I drew a pistol, cocked it and covered him. With a howl he came at me, missing my fire in his onward rush, dashing the pistol from my hand with a madman's force, and, seizing me round the waist, endeavoured to throw me to the earth. Yet, though I had no frenzy, I too was strong, and I wrestled with him, so that about the hut we went, knocking over first the tub of liquor with which the place became drenched, and falling at last together on the ground. And all this time, Alderly was cursing and howling, sometimes even biting at me, and tearing my flesh with his teeth, especially about the hands, and gripping my throat with his own strong hands--made doubly strong because of his frenzy. I smelt his hot, stinking, spirit-sodden breath all over me; I could even smell the filth of his body as he hissed out: "I ever hated you, Winstanley; I hated you when I made your own hands slay you. I hated you in life, I hate you now in death. And as I slew you in life, again will I slay you in death." Then at this moment he gave a yell of triumph. His hand had encountered the hilt of my sword, and drawing it forth from its broken sheath, he shortened it to plunge it into my breast. But as he did so I got one of my hands released. I felt for my other pistol, I cocked it with my thumb, when, ere I could fire, the cutlash dropped from Alderly's hand and he sprang to his feet, his hands upon his wound. "See," he whispered now, "there be two Winstanleys: one here--one coming through the wood. Are there any more--?" Staggering, he stood glaring forth into the wood through the open door, seeing another spectre, as he thought, there; then slowly he sank to the ground, letting his hands fall away from the gash in his breast, from which the tide now ran swiftly. "Oh, agony! agony!" he moaned. "Can one live and feel such pain as this. Nay! this is death. Barbara, draw near me. Listen. This hut is full of spoil--beneath--none know but I--all mine--now all yours. The other is buried--elsewhere--Oh! God--the agony! Barbara--rich--rich--for life--lady--fortune--give me drink--drink--" Then once more singing in a broken voice, "When money's--plenty--boys--we drink To drown--" he fell back moaning again. And so he died. CHAPTER XXIII. THE TREASURE HOUSE. So now I was the last of all left who had come away from the _Furie_. Neither of my crew nor of this dead ruffian's was there any one to tell the tale but I. A strange ending indeed to such a flight and such a chase. The dead pirate lay upon his back, the blood from his wound trickling down to mix with the spirit from the overturned cask. The box of treasure lay at my feet, and, if his dying words were true and not spoken in his madness, beneath my feet was a vast treasure. But ere I thought of that, there were many other things to do. Firstly, and before all, there was rest to be obtained. I had scarcely had any for three days--namely, none in the galliot since we were awaked in our little isle near the reef by the firing of the _Furie's_ guns; and but an hour or so only before the murder of Winstanley, the diver. That was all, and now I could scarcely move for fatigue. I must sleep e'en though I died for it. Only where should I obtain it? Accustomed as I was to rough surroundings, to fightings and slaughter after many years of a sailor's life, this hut with its loathsome dead inhabitant and owner was too horrible and disgusting for me to find rest in it. I could not sleep there! Yet again, neither would I go far away. "The hut," the dying villain had said, "was a treasure house"; he had told the imaginary Barbara--who was she, I wondered, who seemed to have been the centre of such tragedies?--that she was the heiress to great wealth contained within it, or beneath it; I must guard that hut with my life. Especially, I reflected, must I do so since he had thought me to be "Martin come back from the isles with the sloop." If, therefore, this was not also part of his ravings, he was expecting some such person, doubtless a brother pirate--at any moment I might have to defend the place against another ship's crew of scoundrels. Yet I must sleep. I could do nought until I had rested, but I knew that when such a rest had been obtained, I should feel strong enough to, or at least endeavour to, hold my own. I must sleep! At last I made up my mind what I would do. The door of the hut, I had learned by my mode of progression, faced to the west, therefore I would close the door, lay myself along outside it, so that the morning sun, now near at hand as I guessed, should not disturb me, and thereby get rest as well as being a guard over the "treasure house." So, loading and priming my pistols carefully--as well as two of Alderly's which I took off his body, and which, in his madness, he had without doubt forgotten he possessed--and placing my cutlash by my side, I once more lay down to sleep. Undisturbed, I must have enjoyed some hours' repose, for when I awoke the daylight was all around me; the wood outside was bathed in the rich sunshine, though I was sheltered from the rays by the hut; the tiny hum-birds were darting in and out of the many flowers about, thrusting their long bills in them to lick up the honey and the insects; 'twas a sweet spot. Yet, when I arose to enter the hut, all the beauty of the morning and of Nature did seem to me blackened and fouled by that abode. "Now," I said to myself, "what shall I do?" And instantly I resolved that I would, to begin, make an end of Alderly's carcass. So, having perceived a mattock and spade a-lying in the corner of the place--"perhaps," thinks I, "'twas with them he did bury his treasures"--I stooped down to drag him forth into the copse where I could dig a grave for him. Then, as I bent over him, I saw sparkling in his breast the diamond cross attached to the chain which he wore in many folds round his neck. I took it off him, and rubbing it and the gold chain clean from his blood, did go to the door to look at it--flashing it about to observe the sparkles of the great gems, holding it out into a dark place the better for to see it by contrast, and so on, as I had seen those do who call themselves judges of such things--which I, a poor sailor officer, could not be. And then I observed there was engraved on the back of the gold-setting some words, which I deciphered to be: "Mary Roase, Baroness of Whitefields, from her husband, Bevill. Anno Dom. 1598." "Well," thinks I, "this at least can scarce be from our Spanish wreck. Mary Rose is English enough, we have had ships so named. I dare say the villain pillaged that from some descendant of the lady. If ever I got home I will see if there is any Lord or Lady of Whitefields now." Then I went forth to dig the grave, which I did three feet deep, not far off the hut, and lugging out the body--after I had still more carefully searched the clothes, and finding a few gold pieces consisting of some Elephant guineas, two or three French and Spanish pieces, and also some ducatoons, all in a bag--soon buried him. This done I went back to the hut, though by now I was hunger-stung and could very well have ate some food. Though this was not to be yet, since I must go to the galliot to find any, his being filthy. But of drink there was a plenty--a sweet rill of cool water running hard by. There was, indeed, another tub unbroached in the corner of the place, but I cared not to drink of the ruffian's provision; why, I know not, since I did not disdain to take his jewels and money. Yet so it was, and I left it alone, drinking only of the water and laving myself in it. "And now for the long box," I said; "let us see what they have robbed us of." For that the box contained what they had gotten up from our wreck I did never doubt. Yet, as you shall see, I was mistaken. I do not now believe, nor did I shortly then, that what that box contained had ever been any portion of our stolen treasure. I burst it open very easy with the mattock and there I found a rich harvest; so that, indeed, the hut was a treasure house when only it had that box within. Now, this is what I did find, and the list which I here give you (with the valuations against the items by him) is a just and fair copy of that which I did show to Mr. Wargrave, the jeweller and goldsmith of Cornhill (now retired very rich), when I had gotten home again:-- _List with Mr. Wargrave, his valuation_. _Gs_. Two small bags of pearls, weighing with other pearls therein under fifteen grains, as I judged from others shown me by Mr. W. 1,250 One great pearl wrapped in a piece of damask brocade, six-eighths of an inch in its diameter, as I did measure. 2,000 Another, the size of a pigeon's egg, full of most lustrous sheen, wrapped in a piece of deerskin 3,000 A little bag of sapphires, nine in all. 315 Some Turkish pieces of gold about the size and weight of our shillings, twenty-one in all. These I put in my pocket and did sell afterwards in Portsmouth for 14 Some silver pieces, too cumbersome to carry and left with other things, perhaps 5 A little bar of gold 80 Two pistols beautifully inlaid and chased with silver, having engraved thereon the name "Marquis de Pontvismes," and date 1589 30 A portrait of a girl done as a medallion, with blue eyes, red gold hair, and a sweet mouth; perhaps this was Barbara! No value for selling. A child's coral; also a child's shoes; also a lock of long hair, wheat coloured, wrapped in silk. No value for selling. And a dagger set with little diamonds and rubies, the blade rusted very much 50 _____ 6,744 _____ I pondered much over these things, for, as I have writ, I am very sure they never came out of the sunken galleon. There was no sign of wet having got near unto the box or its contents, which must have been the case had it been fished up from that wreck, and therefore I thought to myself, this has perhaps been stolen on some cruise they were upon between the time they left their boat at our little isle and then came back to the reef, thinking not to find us, or any, there. Yet this would not do, neither, for their Snow was no fighting ship--not, I mean, a ship fit to attack another carrying treasure, which would be extremely well armed--and she had _not_ fought till we got at her in the river. That I knew from the wounds and damage, when I boarded and searched her, being quite fresh and made by us. Nor, again, could I deem this box to have been the proceeds of a recent thieving expedition or attack on some sea-coast town or place, for there were not enough men in the _Etoyle_ to have adventured such a thing. They might have attacked a lonely house, or, as the Spaniards call it, a _villa_, in one of the many islands of this Caribbean sea, or on the main land of Terra Firma, yet this I also doubted, for the contents of the box pointed a different way. The girl in the medallion looked English by her hair, eyes, and colour; the pistols were a Frenchman's. Moreover, the box, the lid of which was all covered with beads pasted on to its lid and worked in many forms of flowers, was likewise English (my mother had just such an one), and to prove for certain 'twas so, inside the lid was the name of the workman who made it, "Bird, Falmouth." So at last my conclusion was this, viz., that Alderly valued the box for some reason of his own, perhaps desired always to have some goods with him that at any crisis he could transform into money, and therefore carried it about with him wherever he went. I never learned that this was so, no more than that it was not so, and now I quitted thinking how it came to be with him. Perhaps I judged right, perhaps wrong. But of one thing I am very sure, he had none of our treasure with him. The casket which did doubtless contain that treasure, which must have been of precious stones alone judging by its size, was of a certainty dropped overboard either before we beat them, or at the last moment of defeat. At least, I never did see any of the treasure, though in going to find it I found a greater. But this you will read ere I conclude, as I hope soon to do. I am coming anigh the end. Thinking that "Martin with the sloop," or some other wretches, might be returning, I next proceeded to bury for a time the box, which I did by taking it out into the copse and dropping it into a great hollow cotton-wood tree growing near, which I marked well in my mind's eye. Then, next, I set off down to the galliot, for now I wanted food so badly that I could no longer go without it. I had but little fear of any getting up to the hut unbeknown to me, since, with a seaman's ideas to help me, I concluded that the canal, or channel, or river, as, indeed, it was, offered the only safe inlet to Coffin Island. So if they came they must come the way I was a-going, when I could know it and either avoid or encounter them as seemed best. However, I met none on my way down, and found both the _Etoyle_ and my ship just as I had left them, and the boat tied to the tree, also as I had left it. Then I went aboard the galliot, and finding some food and drink, set to work to stay my cravings. There was none too much, I found, to last long, though as the men had cooked the fish and birds they were still fresh enough. Also there was flour, and bread already made, and some peas, while, for the water, it was nearly all there. The fruit was quite rotten and not to be eaten, but this mattered not at all, since, on Coffin Island, I had perceived several kinds growing with profusion, amongst others many prickly pears. And now, as I made my meal, I marked out in my mind what I should do to draw matters to a conclusion. And this I decided on. "It is a treasure house," Alderly had said of his hut, therefore, firstly, I had got to explore that house, hoping to find therein as much if not more than we had been robbed of. Then when Phips and I met again, as I hoped we might, he should decide about that treasure, and what was to be done with it. But first to find it. Yet, even as I thought this there came to me another reflection--viz., that I could not carry it away with me. The galliot would take me to a neighbouring island inhabited by my own people, but an officer alone in such a vessel, with no hands to work it but himself, must necessarily lead to much talk and the asking of many questions--how many more would be asked if that officer were accompanied by boxes and chests of great weight? Therefore, that would never do! I must get away alone, leaving the treasure--if I found any more than I had already gotten--somewhere secure, and then I must come back again for it, properly fitted out. Or, if I could reach Phips ere he quitted the reef, we could come back together in the _Furie_, take off the goods and so home with no need for further voyagings out and in. And, on still reflecting, this was what I had a mind to do. The reef was not a long way off; a day and night would take me there, with a favourable wind. Only I must provision the galliot somehow; I must not go to sea thus; but then I remembered, this was easily to be done if I swallowed my squeamishness. The _Etoyle_ was full of food and drink--the former coarse but life-sustaining--if I took that as I took its owner's hordes, then I could get away. Only, first I had to find the treasure, then dispose of it safely. After that I might go at once. Indeed, if fortune still kept with me, as she had ever done of late, I might be away from this island within another thirty hours. And so thinking, I finished my repast and set about what I had to do. CHAPTER XXIV. WHAT WAS IN THE TREASURE HOUSE. Now, the first thing was for me to get into the _Etoyle_, and bring a fair provision of food and drink, and then, I thought, I would sink her, or, at least, would get her ready for sinking, so that she, at any rate, should never go on any more evil cruises. This was, however, to be done later. I went aboard her, therefore, directly I had made my meal, and brought off from her some Boucan, about ten pounds; some dried neats', or deer, tongues, a good amount of powdered chocolate, and some boxes of sweetmeats--the villains seeming to have a dainty taste!--and also I brought away some bottles of Calcavella, a Portygee sweet wine, and a small barrel of rum. And also did I take away some cakes of bread, now very hard and stale, but which, by damping with fresh water and then placing in the sun, became once more eatable. Likewise I provided myself with some of their powder and bullets, not knowing what use I might yet have for such things on the island, or when I was away to sea again. This _Etoyle_ was indeed a strangely laden bark, full of the most varied things the minds of men could well conceive, and had it been possible--which 'twas not, being without assistance--I would have had her taken to one of the West Indy Isles, and her contents there sold. She had in her, to wit, elephants' teeth and tusks, and some gold dust--though not much of any, neither--which spoke to me clearly of some robbings on the Guinea Coast, also some fine English cloths, silk druggets and hollands, many packs of whole suits of clothes for wearing; some mantuas, a box of lace, another of ribands (again I thought of the mysterious Barbara!), pieces of fine silk duroys and some Norwich stuffs, as well as vast masses of tobacco. Indeed, I thought, this Snow might have visited half the world for her cargo--had I not very well known, or guessed, that 'twas all stolen out of various other ships. It took me some time shifting all that was necessary for my forthcoming voyage--leaving, you may be sure, much behind in the _Etoyle_--and then ladening myself with some provisions for the hut, I prepared to depart back to it. Yet now more counsel came to me. Supposing, thinks I, that while I am away at the hut, Martin with his sloop, or some similar villains, should come into the river! Why! they would at once see all! The _Etoyle_ they would perceive a battered craft--and doubtless they knew her very well--and they would see the strange galliot. This would not do, therefore I must devise some means if I could, not only to remove all marks of our fray, but, if it might be so, to prevent anyone entering the river at all. Then, at last, I decided what I would do. First of all I took the galliot down out of the river to the sea, and, with a light sail up, I got her to a little cove a third of a league away from the mouth, in which I moored her; and this cove had such projecting spurs that none passing outside would be very like to see her. Indeed, one would have to pass close by the opening of it to do so at all. Then, getting to the boat again, I rowed me back to the river. Next I brought down the Snow to the mouth, moored her fast across it, it being not more than forty to fifty yards at the opening and about fifteen fathoms deep, as I did plumb, and going below I bored a many holes in her sides and bottom so that she began to fill at once, and in half an hour I, who was a-watching from my boat, saw her settling down so that, at last, there was no more of her above water, her masts, as I have writ, being shot away. "Now," says I, "if Martin and his sloop come in and draw much water, 'tis almost a certainty that they shall go foul of some part of the fabric, which may do me a very good turn--if not, then must I take my chance against them," with which I again prepared for the hut. That day I did very little work, though so great was my desire to dig into and find the contents of the "treasure house" that I could scarce take my necessary rest. Yet I mastered myself so much that I forced myself to sleep, determining to work at night when it was cool. So I lay me down on the east side of the place this time, the sun having by now gotten to the west, and slept well, awaking not until night was at hand. Now, amidst all my precautions, 'twas strange to think I had forgotten one thing. I had made no provision for any light at night. The lamp knocked over by the dying pirate was still there where it had fallen, 'tis true, but the oil was all spilled and I could find no other, search as I might. Yet I felt convinced there must be oil somewhere, if I could but discover it. 'Twas not to be conceived that Alderly and the diver had this lamp with them when they plunged into the river to escape from the _Etoyle_; therefore, if I sought, surely I should find. Yet how to seek! The tropic darkness came on with swiftness, in a few minutes the hut was as black as a pocket; and the moon would not rise for some hours yet! Well! there was no hope for it, I reflected; this night at least must be wasted, and so I made up my mind to pass it as best I might. Though my reflections and memories of the previous night's scene, of Alderly's drunken howls, singings, and toasts, of the spectre his maddened brain had conjured up, and of his horrid death, helped me not at all. I saw him over and over again sitting at the table, filling the cans with liquor for his imaginary guests, talking to Barbara, shivering at the supposed ghost of Winstanley, fighting with me--dying. And at last I got the creeps, I started at any twig that snapped outside or the cry of a night bird, and, springing up, I went forth and plunged into the thickness, where I walked about till daybreak. And in that walk I explored the whole of Coffin Island very nigh, and saw under the moon, when she had risen, that beyond the river there was no other entrance to it. Nearly all around elsewhere were craggy cliffs to make landing almost impossible, saving only one strip of beach. Away on Tortola and Negada I saw once or twice lights burning, and wondered what the inhabitants of those isles thought of their precious neighbours in this one--I wondered, too, if they knew or dreamed of what Coffin Island contained! And thus the night passed away, the dayspring came, and I went back to the "treasure house." "Was it to prove such to me?" I asked myself as I made a meal off some of the provisions I had brought along with me. "Was it to prove such?" The question was soon answered, as you, my unknown heir, shall now see. The floor of the hut was a mass of filth that had not been disturbed for some time, and to this had been added now the spilled liquor from the tub that Alderly had flung over in his mad convulsions, as well as some of his blood where he had fallen last. This, therefore, with the previous dirt, I set to clear away with the spade, after I had removed the overturned table, the stool, and other things. And the task was not long. Ere I had been cleaning the floor ten minutes, I came upon an iron ring--set into a trap-door, immediately under where Alderly's chair had been placed. It was not--I mean the trap-door--very far below the surface, not indeed more than three inches, and, even as I tugged and tugged at it, I could not but ponder over the little pains taken to conceal such a hiding place. And I did wonder if, when the villain was away on some of his cruises, he had not many a fear as to whether his store was not being rifled. However, this was no time for such wonderments and speculations, actions were now all, and so again I heaved at the door. It would not lift, however, for all my pullings, so I cleared away still more earth, doing so especially round where it fitted into a frame, and at last prised it right up with the mattock. And you may be sure with what eagerness I gazed into the opening. First of all I saw that as yet I had not reached the treasure, for although the trap was no larger than to admit a man's body, there were still below it some rude steps down into the earth, which opened up at the bottom of them into what seemed to be a passage. And when I got down to the bottom of those steps, I saw very well that there was a passage, or, indeed, a room cut into the earth; a place about six feet long and five feet deep, being more like a little cabin than aught else. And now I knew that I had got to what I sought; the treasure was here. There stood on the floor, and piled up one above the other, four chests, or coffers, the very workmanship of which told me they must be old. Certainly, they had not been made in these days or anywheres near them. They seemed to be of oak full of little wormholes, much carved and designed, and with inscriptions on them in, I think, Latin, of which I understood not one word. Moreover, they had great solid locks to them as well as padlocks, but these had long since been burst open, the reason whereof 'twas not very hard to seek out. I guessed that those who took them from their rightful owners could not perhaps find the keys, and so blew them or forced them thus open. I lifted the lid of the nearest and peered in, and there the first object to meet my eyes was a grinning skull, the bone severed right across the head as though with a lusty sword cut. "Well!" thinks I to myself, as I looked on this poor remnant of mortality, "well! you are indeed a strange warden of what may be herein. Yet, p'raps not so strange either if all accounts of piratical doings be true." For when I was but a lad in Oliver's service, and a-chasing the rovers not so very far from this spot where I now was, 'twas always said that they would slay a man and bury him over their hidden treasure, so that he or his ghost should frighten away others who would meddle with it. And so it might have been here, for, thinks I, "perhaps as I go on I shall find other parts of a dead man in the other chests." Now, although 'twas daylight above, 'twas almost dark in this vault or passage, small as it was, so that I shifted the first coffer nearer to the bottom of the steps, so as to get a full light upon it from above, and then I went on with my hunt, putting the death's head away for a while. Beneath him, as he had lain atop, was what I took to be a piece of yellow canvas, as so it was, though on looking closer I saw that either dyed into it, or cunningly interwoven, were some flowers like our irises, and some words all over it faint with age, of which I could distinguish but the letters "ance" and "smes." Then, when I lifted this up, I found that the coffer had little enough else in it but a handful or so of gold coins lying about amongst some old things, such as a pair of gloves with great steel beads on the backs and tops of the fingers, some silk cloths, a great parchment in Latin--which I laid aside--and such like. The gold coins were, however, such as I did never see before, having on them a head of an old man with a great brimmed hat, and stamped on them, Charles X., Roi de France,[7] 1589. And this set me a-thinking. These coins bore the same date as the pistols, inscribed "Marquis de Pontvismes," and the indistinct words on the canvas cloth of "ance" and "smes" were the endings of the words France and Pontvismes. What had I lighted on here? I turned it over and over in my head all that day, and many a one after that, but it was very long ere I arrived at any decision. There were twenty-seven of these coins and nothing more of any worth within that strong box, so I hoisted it away and began upon a second. And in this I found I had indeed come upon a horde. It was full of sacks or bags of coin of all sorts. Sacks with their mouths gaping open wide, bags tied up, and also many loose coins all about. And _they were of all countries_ and dates, there being amongst them Spanish pieces of eight, Portyguese crusadoes, English crowns, and many more French coins, as well as hundreds of gold pieces of our kings and queens, away back to Queen Elizabeth. Later that day I counted of these pieces up, and made them come to over two thousand pounds. Then next, in the others, I did find as follows, on the list I enclose; all of which I do reckon, one way with another, bringeth the gross up to what I have said, namely, fifty thousand guineas. Here is that list. _Note.--Unfortunately it was not here. Reginald turned all the sheets over and over again, but could not find it. Perhaps by one of those pieces of carelessness which seemed to have pervaded both Nicholas's and Mr. Wargrave's system, it had been originally mislaid. But, however that might be, it was not at this period that the former's descendant was to learn all the items which went to make up the fifty thousand guineas.--J. B.-B_. CHAPTER XXV. THE MIDDLE KEY. So with this my huntings and findings were all over. I had found a fortune, while the Lord only knew who would ever enjoy the spending of it, though, for one thing, I felt very sure it would not be I myself. There was no likelihood of that. I could never get it back to England, and, if I did, then 'twould at once be said that I had stolen it--either with or without Phips' connivance, and that he and I were a brace of thieves. But what use to ponder on such things as these! For aught I knew I might never get back to England after all; though, somehow, there was a something in my mind which did ever tell me I should do so. Meanwhile, the present was enough to occupy my attention. Firstly, the night was coming on once more and still I had found no oil, so that I must now cease all labours until the next day. In truth I was ready to do so, for I was weary again by now, and another thing was also very certain, to wit, that in this hut I must take my abode. I could not go a step away with all the treasure there was here. So I placed the oblong box down into the vault along with the other goods, and then, after I had made an evening meal of some neat's-tongue and bread cake, washed down with the water from the rill, in which also I laved my face and hands, I looked to the primings of all the pistols, got out my cutlash, and, stretching myself across the top of the trap-door, I addressed myself to sleep. At first it would not come in that horrid spot; again and again I saw the form of the dying pirate and heard his yells and singings and toasts. But at last I slept peacefully until the day broke. And now I had to set about removing all the treasure from the hole where it had lain for doubtless so long--for I did not believe that Alderly was the man who had obtained all this wealth, but rather that some earlier corsair than he had done so and buried it, and that Alderly in some strange way had lighted on it. It was necessary that I should find a new hiding-place for it. "Martin with the sloop" might--if he were indeed an actual being and not the vision of some long dead and gone comrade, perhaps of another part of the world, as I now had a mind to believe--come back at any moment, and also he might know of the buried wealth in spite of the pirate's words having been, "None know but I." For 'twas useless to give credence to any of the utterances issuing from the bemused brain of Alderly--there might be no Martin, or if there were he might know nothing, or, on the contrary, he might know all. At any rate, my part was to make everything safe. But how to do it? I must remove it to a hiding-place that would be always found, that should be marked in a way and manner which time could not destroy. For who could tell when it might be sought for again? I had then, or, I should rather say, I was then maturing in my mind the idea of writing down all this which I have now done--with great pain and labour to myself!--and that writing might not see the light again for twenty years, perhaps even longer. Therefore, 'twas necessary the spot should be such as would never be changing, a spot which must be the same fifty years hence as it was then. Consequently a tree, for instance, could not be made a landmark or indicator, for tempests might blow it to earth, or years rot it away. Then I thought of a spot on which the sun should fall at a given day, hour, and minute--which, as I have heard, is the commonest way of all for persons burying treasure to mark the precise spot--only, supposing ere the time to come when the hoard should be sought for, something was builded over the spot, as might very well be if Coffin Island became settled, as Tortola or Negada and some others are? This risk, therefore, small as it might be, I would not run. Still, what should I do? I must decide quickly, for if Martin and the sloop were real things and not shadows they might be here at any moment, and if once my task were finished I should not mind their coming very greatly. I could, perhaps, avoid them somehow and get away, leaving the goods safe. Quickly I must decide. Then, as an aid to my doing so, I determined me to walk round the isle, thinking that in such a way a spot might be found suitable for my purpose. So I set forth, going armed, you may be sure. Now, this daylight walk of mine about the island showed to me very many things that I had not seen on my midnight rounds, when the terrors and the ghastliness of the hut had driven me forth. I learned among other things that, not very far from the hut itself, was the little upland from which one could look down upon the whole of the isle and all the coast around it, and also I could see down into my cove where I had anchored the galliot, and did observe her lying there safe as I had left her. Also I found that from this spot I could see for many miles out to sea, and observe that, at least for the present, there were no signs of my haunting fear, Martin and his sloop. To the south lay Tortola, Anguilla, and St. Martin; to the east lay Negada, but away to the west nought met the eye, Porto Rico being out of vision. And as for those poor miserables who inhabited the two first above mentioned, if they were still alive and had not died of melancholy, they gave no signs of being so; there was no boat upon all the waters, no smoke rising from hut or cabin; nought gave evidence of the islands being inhabited but the faint lights I had seen at night. But what concerned me and my present desires most was that to the north of this, Coffin Island, I did see some little Keys or sandy spots, covered with their weeds and bushes, lying out about a hundred yards from my island. "Why not there?" thinks I, upon this. "Why not one of those? 'Tis now the high tide," as I took occasion to observe, "and they are above water, therefore 'tis not like they will ever be submerged, or, if even so, they will come forth again. And there are three close together; it shall be the middle one if on inspection all seems well." So, upon this, I got me down to my boat and rowed round from the side of Coffin Island, where the river was, to the north where the Keys were, and went on to the middle one. It was, as I have said, covered with bushes and weeds, none very tall, and it being now the season there were a-many turtles on it laying of their eggs, as they will do in any unfrequented and quiet spot. "Yes," says I, "this must be the place and none other," and with that I pulled away at a great bush in the middle of the Key I was standing on, and on getting it up did see that the soil was nearly all sand. And again I said, "This must be the place." So I went off once more, resolving to get to work this very day, and, making a journey to the hut, I brought off the spade and mattock and the least heavy of the coffers--I mean that one that had the Death in it, and when I was back on the Key I began my digging at once, and the sand being extremely light I soon had got down some ten feet, so that at last I had a task to scramble out of the treasure's future grave. Then I made more journeys, and, in the end, by sunset had gotten all the coffers as well as the long box on to the Key. And this night I decided to sleep there, as I would not leave the goods alone until they were buried--though I do believe that, had I left them there exposed on the isle until now when I write, they would very like have remained untouched; for Martin I concluded now to be entirely a myth, and as for other pirates, they would never come to such Keys as this when the whole place swarmed with real islands. At sunrise I was at it again, having ate some turtle eggs for my meal--a pleasing change for me--and by midday all was done. The four coffers and the box went in one atop of each other, the uppermost one being, at its lid, three feet from the surface, and with on top of each a turtle shell, of which there were several lying about the Key. These I put in also because the shells are almost imperishable, and, should the coffers decay, if they have to lie--as they may, who knows?--twenty or thirty years in the ground before this my history is found, the great shells will protect the contents somewhat, though no harm that I know of can come to coins, jewels, and so forth from a-lying in the earth. Then, when all was filled up, I did most carefully arrange the place so that, if by any strange chance anyone should here land, no signs should be given of a disturbance being made. I replanted the bush over the spot; with some brushwood and scrub I removed some spare grains of sand that had been thrown up, and arranged everything as best I might, going so far as to take some turtles' eggs and place them about, so that they should give the idea--if anyone did land here--that the turtles themselves had disturbed the spot in their crawlings and creepings. And now, for your guidance, I will write down how you shall find this spot, and also will I draw as well as may be a little map. First you are to know that--as the hydrographer of his Majesty's Admiralty hath since informed me--Negada is situated 18° 46' N., 64° 20' W.; Tortola is 18° 27' N., 64° 40' W.; and Coffin Island is consequently, since it doth lie a little to the north of Negada, as near as possible 18° 48' N., 64° 20' W. Wherefore, if you make these degrees, there you shall perceive that isle, shaped as it is named, long like a coffin, thin at the foot, broad higher up, then somewhat narrow again, the foot pointing due west, the head due east. Also the little upland I have spoken of riseth from the centre, perhaps one hundred and fifty to one hundred and eighty feet. Then, due north of that and exactly in a line with the shoulder of the coffin-shape, there are the Keys, and the middle contains the treasure. Now, read again. From the north side of the middle key to the spot where I buried all the coffers and the box is fifty-one good strides of three feet each, from the south side to the same spot is fifty-three strides, from the east is forty-nine strides, from the west is fifty strides and a half. Therefore, you shall not miss it if so be that, when you have taken your first measurement from the spot where you land, you stick in the ground your sword and there make, or persevere until you make, all your other strides correspond with what I have wrote down. And I have made no mistake, for three times did I go over the ground and all times did the measurements tally. Do you likewise and you shall find what I did bury. Now here is a little map, rough, as befits a drawing made by me, yet just and true. 65 60 _______________________________________________________ 20 | Key [+ Coffin isle] |20 | | | [* Negada] | |[* Porto [* Tortola] [* Virgin Gorda] | | Rico] [* Anguilla] | | [* St Martin] | | | | The cross marketh wherein the Key with | 15| the treasure is. |15 _______________________________________________________ 65 60 I shall be dead before you who find this can read it, so that, perhaps, it boots not very much that I should write down any more. Yet some things I desire to tell, and some things I think it right for me to leave on record. But first let me say what was the end of my sojourn here. When I had buried all of the treasure--excepting those pieces of gold which I took away with me, not knowing where I might find myself ere I reached home--if ever--I made for the galliot. For now I had done with the hut--I never desired to see it again. However, so that no signs of disturbance or diggings should be apparent, should any come after me, I first of all covered up, on my last visit to it, the spot from whence I had taken the treasure, and, moreover, I filled in the hiding place with earth fetched from outside, and also the descent by the steps. Indeed, I would have burned the place down to the ground, only that I feared to set the whole island on fire and so attract attention to my presence from the other isles. And that there should be no more digging, if I could help it, without great pains, I dropped the spade and mattock into the sea. I say that I wished to attract no attention from the isles, the reason whereof was this, which I had arrived at after many ponderings. If I were known to be there, or if I went to those isles and showed myself, I must be subject to many questionings, must explain all and my chasing of the pirate, and--who knows?--in the course of talk more might leak out than I should care for. And, therefore, I had taken a determination; I would not go near the other isles, but, boldly and without fear, directly the wind was favourable--which it was not now--I would steer for the reef once more. 'Twas, I did calculate, not more than ninety miles away; the galliot could sail that very easily in two days, and, for finding the spot, why that also was very easy to be done. I could well steer a course by keeping Porto Rico on my larboard beam, and then, when the great hump of Hispaniola's Northern Promontory did come into view, could find the road to the reef. From there, if Phips was gone, I must to the Bahamas--for I should not dare to go ashore in Hispaniola now, since the news of the Black's death, and Geronimo's rage at being defeated of what he thought due, might lead me to trouble--and I could, perhaps, get to the Inaguas. These, for there are two of that name, the Great and the Little, are in the Windward Passages, well known to navigators, very useful for putting into for refitting and watering, and belonging to our Crown. Yet--for so things will sometimes happen--nought went as I had forecast. And this you shall hear, after which my history is concluded--for which I devoutly thank the Lord, and shall, on the Sabbath after it is finished, offer up a special prayer of thanksgiving in Branford Church that I have been allowed to bring it to an end--and I shall then have no more to tell. CHAPTER XXVI. NICHOLAS LEAVES THE ISLAND. Now, when all was prepared for my setting forth and when I had gotten the galliot ready for her next cruise and had also taken in some fresh water, a small live turtle, some fruit, and all my bread and peas--now running very low--chance was against me for a while. Even for three weeks the wind did blow strong from the northwest, while all the time I desired a wind from the south-east, and I began to ponder if at this season of the year it did not perhaps stay in the same quarter altogether. There was, however, nought to do but to possess my soul in patience, to keep ever a cheerful heart, and to trust in God, as all my life I have done. Meanwhile, in some ways the delay was not altogether to be repined at, for I made, during it, several visits to the Key in my boat and observed that now there was no sign at all of the burying I had made. The bush above the spot had taken root again at once, and was growing and flourishing, some rain storms that had come had smoothed and made solid the disturbed earth, and the turtles were laying of their eggs all around as if no human foot had ever stood upon the Key. One thing alone troubled me, and that was food--or rather bread, for this was now running very short. If I did not get away soon, I should have to do without it altogether, or go seek for some in Negada and Tortola. Yet neither, I was resolved, would I do this, but rather exist without bread at all. I was a sailor, I ever told myself, and a sailor should be able to endure all hardships. But on the twenty-second day since I buried my spoils, a change came. I was sleeping in the cabin of my galliot, when with the dawn I perceived it. The northwest wind from which I had been sheltered in my cove had never disturbed the vessel; now from her starboard side, which was to the south as she lay, there blew in a hot southern wind, waves and riplets came into the cove from that direction and lapped against her bows, and she began gently to rise and fall and heel over a little from them, as though she were a living thing, impatient to be off. "'Tis come," I exclaimed, springing up. "The hour has come to bid farewell to this spot. If this wind hold forty-eight hours I shall be at the Inaguas if I find not Phips at the reef." The morn was not yet however, but was anigh as I stepped to the deck; the breeze sweeping up from the long line of islands to the south was a-freshening; the stars began to pale, the new moon to wane. No time could have been better for me than this quiet period before the dawn to steal away. In half an hour I was well outside the cove, the masts stepped, the sails set--and I at the helm had set forth upon my road home. 'Twas a strange voyage for one alone to undertake--had there been another, or even a boy, to relieve me 'twould have been nought; but now 'twas a voyage without a compass or aught to guide me, nothing indeed to help me but the mercy of heaven, my knowledge of the sea, and my strong frame and good health. However, we slipped round Coffin Island a little later, and I saw for the last time the spot that held the buried treasure. The little Key was visible beneath the now rising sun, the sea-birds were wheeling round and about it, and the blue water rippled on its shores. And so I took farewell of it, knowing that I should never see it any more. May you, whomsoever you may be for whom I write this narrative, find it as I left it, unharmed and untouched. May your eyes gaze upon it and find therein what I left behind when mine have long been closed in death. And now I had nought to do but steer my bark for that easterly point of Hispaniola called of late Cape Françoy, and so I should come near to the reef, and this, since the wind was very good and not boisterous, 'twas easy enough to do. When I was weary I would lower down the sails, lash the rudder, and so take some rest--doing this, of course, by day only, since when the night came I must keep good watch--and then set sail again when refreshed, finding my course easy enough by the sun and breeze. And so the first day passed, and I did calculate that--allowing for my rest--I had left Coffin Island some twenty to fifteen leagues behind me, and, so that I should not pass the Bajo and thereby run on to _Moushoire Carré_, or Turk's Islands, I shortened sail. Yet this I need not have done neither, for in some way I had not got my calculations aright. At dawn there was no land in sight as I thought to see, so that the galliot had not sailed as I guessed, or I had missed my course. The wind, however, and the sun forbade me to think this, so I made all sail again and went on. At midday I did discover I was on the right tack; Cape Françoy and Samana rose on my beam end, therefore I knew that by altering my course a point to the north I must strike the spot where the reef was. And this I did, judging by the sun that it was four of the afternoon when first I saw the little shoal waters over it. I know not even now if I was glad or sorry to perceive--as I did very soon--that the _Furie_ was no longer there. Yet I think it was the latter, for I had hoped to hear the cheery shout of Phips, to see my brother officers come round me, to hear the welcomes of the men, and to be able to tell my tale. But 'twas not to be. All around the reef was as lonely as if no plate ship had ever sunk there, no attempts ever been made to get up its contents, no horrid tragedy happened such as that when Phips slew the Black and executed of his companion. Birds flew about all over it, seeking perhaps for scraps of food where not a month ago they had found a plenty, the little waves foamed over the sunken reef where the now emptied treasure ship lay--but that was all. No! I forget. 'Twas not all. As I drew near I saw sticking up from the water--as I had not been able to see before because of the flittings of the many gulls--that which looked like a jagged piece of mast, or yard of a ship, with something crosswise atop of it, and my curiosity being great I got the galliot near to it. I knew I could do this, since she had gone over the reef often enough when acting as a tender, and when 'twas done I saw that it was indeed a mast standing up endwise in the water, the lower part doubtless fixed into some crevice or hole by the diver ere the _Furie_ left. And the cross-piece nailed on to the top of the mast was in the form of a big arrow rudely carved, placed so that it pointed towards where Europe was, and with on it the words, "To Nicholas Crafer. Make your way home." That was all, yet it told enough. The _Furie_ had gone home with the treasure; if I was still alive I was to go too. * * * * * * Let me be brief. That remaining day and night I anchored off our original little isle, took in some fresher water than I had, and caught some fishes. Also I once more did cover again the bleached bones of those mutineers who had endeavoured to surprise and seize upon the _Algier Rose_--'twas the last time, I reflected, it would ever be done by me or any. There was no danger of losing the favourable wind by resting here for these few hours; if anything it was blowing stronger and fresher from the south-east than before. Nay, when I put off in the morning for the furtherance of my course, it was blowing so much in a manner I cared not for, namely in fitful gusts followed by moments of stillness, that I doubted me if I was overwise in putting to sea again yet. Moreover, the wind was almost due south by now, so that to make the Inaguas I should have much more trouble and work than when sailing large and free before a favourable breeze. However, I must go, I would not be detained. Indeed, I had come to hate all this region so much that, even should a chance arise in the future for me to come out and bring off all my treasure, I felt as though I should have no mind to it. Phips might come an he would, and get it, but, for myself, I wanted not to come again. If the Hispaniola plate had been gotten back safely, then there would be a share for me that would keep me from the wolf for the remainder of my days. It would not be wealth, but would doubtless suffice--and I had finished with the sea! Though not yet. When I was two hours out from our little isle, and, as I believed, near unto _Moushoire Carré_, I did discover that I had been foolish to put out against so fast rising a wind. For it had now freshened into a gale due from the south, so that I had to sail close-hauled if I wanted to pass that place in safety, and also Turk's Islands. Nor even a little later was this possible, as it blew more and more. I could no longer manage both sails and helm. So now I had to take down most all my sail excepting the foresail to steady the galliot, and to put her head before the wind, abandoning of my course altogether. And not long afterwards the storm had become a furious one, the whole heavens were obscured, the sea rose horribly--I saw at this moment a picaroon in distress a little way off me, and shortly go down--and my galliot did seem to be doomed. And now I never thought but that I had reached my journey's end, that all was over with me. Huge seas swept over the bows, the vessel soon began to fill with water, she rolled and tossed from side to side so that I could not keep my feet, and then I heard a crash, I saw the mainmast falling swiftly towards me, I felt a blow that shot a thousand stars from my eyes, and I knew no more. * * * * * * When I again recovered of my senses I understood not at first where I was, excepting that I was lying in a berth in a dark cabin, that all my head was swathed in cloths, and that standing near me was an elderly man, regarding me attentively. "Where," I asked, "am I! This is not the galliot." "So," he replied in my own tongue, "you are an Englishman! We thought by the build of your galliot that you were a Dutchman. Who and what are you?" "Lieutenant Crafer, late of his Majesty's navy, and late first Lieutenant of the _Furie_, Captain Phips. What ship is this?" "His Majesty's _Virgin_ Prize, a 32-gun frigate, Captain John Balchen. Homeward bound. You should know this officer, Lieutenant Crafer." "Very well," I answered. "We have served together. Yet 'tis not strange if he knows not me, no razor has touched my face for many weeks." And so it was that I found myself bound to England in a King's ship, having for her captain a man whom I had been at sea with ere now, when he was my subaltern. That I told him all as regards the treasure you are not to suppose; that secret was locked in my own breast, to be divulged to one only, Phips. But I did give him a very fair and considerable history of much that we had gone through, and, living with him in his cabin and at his table, you may be sure that we had many talks on the subject of the sunken plate-ship. "Yet," said he often, "I misdoubt me if King James will be there to take his tenths when Phips gets the _Furie_ home. The people will endure him but little longer--he is now an avowed Papish--and already there are whisperings of putting one of his daughters in his place. If 'twere Mary all would be well, since she is married to a staunch Protestant, though the country would scarce accept him, too, I think." Yet, as you will see by later day history, James was still there when I got back. And this I did on Lady Day in the year of our Lord 1687, the _Virgin_ Prize making Portsmouth a month after she picked me up, a corpse as they first thought, from the deck of the galliot, which was cast off after I was rescued. It seemed from their calculations and mine that I must have been met with some hours only after I was struck down, and at first they thought I had been attacked by the picaroon--which ships are generally full of thieves--which they had been a-chasing. So, in this way, I came back from my second voyage to the wrecked Spanish Plate Ship, and put my foot once more on my native land at Portsmouth Hard. And now but a few words more and I have done. CHAPTER XXVIL THE NARRATIVE ENDS. 'Twas at the Navy Tavern at Portsmouth that I learned that Phips had preceded me home but a fortnight, that he had sailed to the Downs with the _Furie_ and all her contents, and that, most faithful to his word, he had sent a letter for me. In it he said that he prayed to God I might some time or other get back safe to England--and that, if he should be gone away again, he would charge himself to leave my share of the sale of the treasure in safe keeping, of which I should be advised both by a letter to the Admiralty directed for me, and also by another to this tavern. Likewise, he said, he trusted that I had been able to come up with that most uncommon rogue and villain, Alderly, that I had taken vengeance of him for his treachery, and that I had recovered whatever I might find he had stolen from the Plate Ship. And if, he said, I had been enabled to bring that stolen wealth back with me, then I was to communicate with his Grace of Albemarle--supposing him, Phips, gone--who should see that it was properly directed to the right quarters. So there was now nought for me to do but to make for London myself, after I had slept one night in the old town, changed a few of the gold pieces I had taken off Alderly ere I buried him, and bought me a fair decent change of clothes in which to travel and appear in London. And in fifteen hours I was there from the time of my setting out, and once more ensconced in an inn I had heretofore patronised, namely, "The Blossoms," in Lawrence Lane, Cheapside. The finding of Phips after this was by no means difficult; even at the inn they had heard of his arrival: they told me, indeed, that there was much commotion both on Change as well as in Court and Naval circles at the amount of treasure he had brought home with him; while--says my hostess to me-- "Might you, sir, be the gentleman they say he left behind to chase those cruel, wicked pirates who had stolen part of the treasure he did find?" I answered that I was indeed that officer, whereon she told me that the town talked much about me, that even some of the journals had written discourses upon my having gone off to chase pirates in nought but a ship's boat--as they termed it--and that it would be a fine thing for the gentry who produced those sheets when they should hear that I was safe back so very little a while after Phips himself. However, I wanted to see Phips himself, and this I very soon did, finding of him by presenting myself at the Duke's house, where I noticed a most extraordinary bustle going on, and discovered that his Grace was just about to proceed to Jamaica to take up the governorship thereof. Poor man! he did but enjoy it a year, all of which time he was thinking of nought but finding new treasure round about that island, and then at the end of that his bottle took him off. However, 'tis the present I have to tell of, and will, therefore, but say that, ten minutes after my announcement, the Duke came to me. "Now," said he, greeting me, "this is the joyful day, Lieutenant Crafer; I do indeed rejoice to see you back safe and sound, and so will Phips. He is hard by--he shall be sent for." Whereon he ordered a man to go to the lodgings and to tell Sir William Phips that Lieutenant Crafer was gotten home safe and sound. "Sir William Phips!" I exclaimed. "Sir William! So! has he come to such honour as that?" "He hath, indeed," laughed the Duke, who seemed more jolly now than when we went out with the _Furie_--perhaps his new appointment making him so--"he hath, indeed. The King seemed so well pleased with his tenth that he insisted on knighting our friend, and hath even silenced those wretches of the city who say that--that Phips, and--well, no matter." "What do they say, my Lord Duke?" I asked, though I could very well guess. "Oh! 'tis nothing, a trifle! and, since neither the King nor I believe it, not to be considered." "I can imagine what they say, your Grace," I exclaimed. "It is that we have feathered a nest somewhere--that all has not been brought home that was found. Yet, 'tis not true----" "Tush, man, tush!" interrupted the Duke. "Who shall think it is?" "It is not true," I went on. "Every farthing's worth Phips got he brought home, I will swear--while as for what Alderly stole from the plate ship, why, they sunk it when we boarded them." "Man alive!" exclaimed the Duke, "who doubts it? I do not, who am the chief concerned, nor will the King hear a word. See, here is a testimony I mean to give to Phips. A gold cup I have had made out of a thousand pounds' worth of the treasure. 'Tis for his wife in Boston, now Lady Phips, to whom he hath sent out instructions to buy a fine brick house to live in. For, you must know, the King hath promised him the Governorship of Massachusetts as soon as it falls vacant, when he will be settled for life." I regarded the cup, very costly and beautiful, engraved, "From Christopher, Duke of Albemarle, to his trusty friend, Sir William Phips," while the Duke bade his servant bring us a tankard, and at that moment in came Sir William himself hot haste to see me. * * * * * * "No," he said to me that night, as we sat at wine in his lodgings hard by the Strand, "no, Nick, that hidden treasure is yours, and yours alone. It belongs not to our providers here, nor does any share pertain to me. You it was who found it, you it was who had all the risk in going to find it. It shall be yours and yours only, since none other of the galliot's crew are now in existence. Only," he went on, "as now you are provided for, I would leave it there awhile. Say, for another generation. For if you go and dig it up now, then will the merchants say that they spoke truly when they accused us of robbing them." "I shall never go to dig it up," I said, "I will go to sea no more. The Duke tells me there is four thousand pounds for me at Sir Josiah Child's--'tis enough to do very well for my life. I will buy me a little house somewhere, and an annuity from some nobleman with the rest." "And," went on Sir William, "in that little house find out a hiding place, and leave therein a full description of where your treasure is, so that those who come after you shall, if they care to be at the trouble thereof, discover a fortune. You will be marrying now, Nick, perhaps?" "Nay," said I, "I think not. Never now! Once when my heart was young and fresh I did love a sweet young girl--she was the daughter of a retired officer of Oliver's, and they dwelt at Kew--but the smallpox ravaged the land and took her from me. I find myself thinking of her often now; perhaps 'tis because the time is drawing near when I shall see her again, as young and fair as she was in those bygone, happy days; but I shall never have a wife." "Poor Nick, poor Nick," said Phips, laying his great hand very gently on my shoulder. "Poor Nick. So you have had your romance too. Ah, well! so have most men." Then a little later he said, "You know I go out again with Sir John Narborough--I cannot rest quietly at home in Boston till my rule begins in Massachusetts--we shall be near your little Key--shall I go and dig your spoil up? I would do it most faithfully for you, Nick, as you know." "No," I answered, after pondering awhile. "No, not unless you will do so and take it, or some of it, for yourself." "That," said he, "I will never do. Not a stiver, not one coin. 'Tis all yours." "Then let it lie there," said I, "for those who shall come after me. There is one other Crafer left in Hampshire, a country gentleman, who has perhaps some children now. It shall be theirs when I am gone if they choose to search for it." So we parted for the last time, not without tears in our eyes, we having been so much to each other for so long that we could not easily say farewell. As for him, he went on his cruise with Sir John Narborough, but, as he after wrote me, he found nothing. And then the time came for him to take up his rule in his own land, which he did wisely and well, and perhaps because of his old belief in sooth-sayers, and wizards, and geomancers--and, indeed, the knave I have writ of did tell his fortune most wondrously, even to his becoming a ruler though not a King--he spared many in New England who would have been barbarously entreated otherwise. And he took with him a fine gold medal, which the now fast falling King had had struck in honour of his finding the galleon's wreck, having on it the words _Semper tibi pendeat Hamus_, which the curate of Mortlake did afterwards translate for me as meaning, "May thy fishing always be as good to thee." It bore on it a supposed drawing of the _Furie_, but none too accurate, though near enough. Of the treasure the Duke took £90,000, His Majesty's tenth was something under £20,000, but not much, and the merchants got many of them £8,000 to £10,000, for every £100 they had adventured. This is speaking roundly, as I have heard sums of more and less mentioned in connection with all concerned. Phips's share, as he told me, was £16,000, and would have been more had he not out of his own purse paid to a-many of the seamen some sums which the merchants withheld from them. Cromby's old mother was dead, I found on inquiring, so that I could do nothing there. Now, 'twas some six years afterwards, and when James had been gone nigh that time to France, that Phips wrote to me he was a-coming to England and hoped among others to see me. Yet, alas! we never met again. I was at this time sore troubled with gout and rheumatism--though, I thank God, much of both have passed away--and I could not, therefore, go to see him. Nor, neither was he ever able to come to me. He had not been in London many days when he catched a cold, and this turning to a fever he died. And he was buried in the Church of St. Mary Woolnoth, where, when I was recovered, I went and said a prayer above his tomb. Why should I write a funeral sermon on him for those who never knew him? Suffice, therefore, if I say that he was honest, manly, and God-fearing, and a better man did never live. To me, his subaltern, he was ever kindly, gentle, and friendly, very courteous, yet also, when we came to know each other, very brotherly; and to conclude, I loved him. No need to say more. Now I have done. Almost all the evenings of four months it hath taken me to write this story down--I beginning of it in the bleak cruel nights of winter, and ending of it when the leaves are pushing forth. And I have written as truly as I know how, telling no lies, and trying also very hard to make my story understandable to whomso'er shall come across it. My house--which I bought here, because 'twas across the river in years agone I used to wander with the girl I loved so dear, and because I can see the paths where we walked when I arise from my bed every morning--I shall leave to a Crafer for ever, so that some day, if the line dieth not out, one of that name must find the clue. That it shall be a Crafer I do earnestly hope, but if not it cannot be helped. And in conclusion all I will now say is, that I do pray that whosoever readeth this narrative, and whosoever afterwards shall find the buried treasure on the little Key, he will use it well and nobly, devoting some part of it, if not all, to God's service. Amen. NICHOLAS CHAFER. _The Search by Reginald Crafer_. CHAPTER XXVIII. OFF TO THE VIRGIN ISLES. The passengers by the Royal Mail steamer, especially the younger and fairer members thereof, felt an emotion of genuine regret when Reginald Crafer left the ship at Antigua, there to make the connection with the company's vessel, the _Tyne_, which runs to Anguilla and Tortola fortnightly. For like so many, nay, almost all naval officers with but few exceptions, Reginald possessed those manly and pleasant graces which soon endear a stranger to any number of persons among whom he may happen to be thrown; and ere the steamer--crowded with tourists of the better class who were avoiding the rigour of our winter by a tour in the West Indian Islands--had been a week out of Southampton, he had made himself a general favourite. Of course he could dance--when did a sailor ever exist who could not?--also he could sing; he had seen much of the world and he was good-looking. Let anyone who has been on an ocean trip say if these accomplishments and charms are not sufficient to at once make a man popular in the community assembled on such an occasion. And also there was about him some slight tinge of mystery, some little reticence on his part, as to what he wanted or desired to do at Anguilla or Tortola, which added a flavour to the manner in which this handsome young officer was regarded. For at either of these islands there is nothing for a man to do at all, unless he should desire to pass his life in breeding herds of goats, cows, or sheep, or in fishing, or rearing poultry, or cultivating a little cotton or sugar. And certainly Reginald Crafer did not seem to be a man of that sort. "It can't be to see the bloomin' islands," said a bagman on board who was not a favourite, though possessing vast information about the locality, derived from visiting the whole of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea on business, "because there's nothing to see, and as a naval officer I'll bet he's seen enough islands. And it can't hardly be a gal." "Scarcely, I should imagine," said a stately young lady, by whom, as by others, this person's remarks were not much appreciated, "since I believe there are few gentlemen or ladies there except the Consuls and their families. Nor do I see that Lieutenant Crafer's business is your affair or mine," whereon she turned on her heel and left him. Meanwhile Reginald, who, perhaps, was not unconscious of the curiosity he had raised, though taking no notice of it, had plenty to think of as well as having always to keep a guard upon his tongue. Indeed, it would not be saying too much if the announcement was made that the discovery of Nicholas Crafer's statement had produced a total change, not only in this young man's method of life, but also in his mind. When he had finished the perusal of that statement (which, you may remember, he began one November afternoon) another day had come; a foul, murky, fog-laden atmosphere was doing duty for the dawn. The river reeked with it, and so did the fields across the Thames. Also the fire had gone out now, though he had made it up several times during the night, the lamp had consumed nearly the last drop of oil in its glass bowl, and he could hear his old housekeeper and general servant shuffling about upstairs as though preparing to begin the day. And his eyes were wet with tears--tears which the last page or two of that finely-written, often misspelt, and sometimes nearly illegible manuscript had caused to spring to them. For to him, young and impressive--though as yet his heart had never been fairly touched by Love's rose-tipped wings--there seemed a sadness inexpressible in the story of his ancestor's love for the daughter of one of Oliver's officers who had died so young, and of the manner in which he had bought the house, so that daily, when he arose, the first place to meet his eyes should be the spot where they had walked together in those long-forgotten years. "Poor old Nicholas!" he thought, as he went to the French windows and drew the heavy curtains that protected the room from the river's damp, and peered across that river to the other side; "poor old Nicholas! It was there you used to walk with her when you were both young. It was there, when you had grown old and she had long since gone and left you, that you used to gaze and dream of her. And," he went on, as he turned back into the room, "it was here, in this very spot, two hundred years ago, that you sat night by night writing that story alone, as I this night have sat alone and read it. I almost wonder that your ghost did not come forth and stand at my elbow, and peer over my shoulder at your crabbed, crooked handwriting as I did so." He dropped the manuscript in his pocket as he finished his meditations and, going upstairs, met the old housekeeper coming down. "Lawks, Mr. Reginald!" she said with a start, "what a turn you give me! Whatever have you got up so early for?" "I have not been to bed yet, Maria," he said, "but I am going now." Then, observing her look of astonishment and the shaking of her head--perhaps she thought he had been wassailing in London and had only just come down by the early train--he said, "I have been engaged all night over some family papers. Call me at twelve and get some breakfast ready by then. I shall go to town directly afterwards. And, Maria, I shall be going abroad again soon; you will have the house all to yourself once more." "Ha!" she said, with a grunt; "well, who's afraid? I ain't, neither of ghostes nor burgulars, tho' we had one----" But Reginald was on his way to bed before she had finished her oration. "The first thing to be done," he thought to himself, as he splashed about in his bath after that five hours' sleep--which was enough for him, since it was more than a watch below--"is to get a promise from the first Sea Lord, on the ground of 'urgent private affairs,' that I shall not be called upon to serve for another year. If I can manage that, then off I go to Coffin Island and dear old Nick's treasure. Lord bless me! how I would like to have known Nick--as Phips called him." There had come into the young man's heart as he read that paper a feeling which, I suppose, often comes into the hearts of most of us who have ever had ancestors--the feeling that we would like to have known them, to have seen them and to have shaken hands with them, observed the quaint garb they wore, and listened to their quaint speech. So it was now with Reginald. He would have liked to have heard Nicholas tell the story instead of having read it, would like to have stood by his side when he fought the _Etoyle_, to have been by him when the drunken and delirious pirate died singing his song, to have accompanied him on that solitary voyage when he kept--good honest man!--a cheerful heart and trusted to his God alone to watch over him. "I wonder whose treasure it was that he found?" the young man meditated--"not Alderly's, at any rate. The pirates never buried their treasure, though the story-books say they did, but rather took it with them to their favourite haunts to spend in a debauch. Even Alderly was doing that at the time Nicholas captured him; he had his box with him, full of ready money for spending purposes. And those others, those antique coins, those jewels and precious things, what were they? Buried, perhaps, by some French refugee who had been cast away on Coffin Island and found by Alderly, or stolen from some French treasure ship by an earlier pirate than Alderly, yet still found by him. Shall I ever know?" But, whether he would ever know or not was a matter of very small importance to Reginald Crafer, in comparison with the fact that he was going to find them again himself, if he possibly could. For that they should not lie any longer in the middle Key above Coffin Island than it would take him to go and fetch them, he was very firmly resolved. "The Key isn't likely to have shifted," he reflected, "nor to have become entirely covered by the sea for good and all. And if it has, why, science has advanced a bit since the days of Nicholas, and we will have it out. The treasure has been found twice as it has been buried twice--once by its original owner, as I believe, and once by Nicholas; I'll make the third finder. There's luck in odd numbers!" and remembering his Latin, of which he had a better knowledge than his sailor relative had had, he murmured, "_Numero deus impare gaudet!_" The First Sea Lord proved kind, perhaps because Reginald was a young officer who had done well and was favourably known already, besides having once served in his own flag-ship and come under his notice; and though he hummed and hawed a little at first, and talked a good deal about the shortness of lieutenants, and so many being required to be called out for the Naval Man[oe]uvres, and so on, at last said that he thought he might promise that Lieutenant Crafer's services should not be asked for for another year. Then, next, the young man bought a chart of the Caribbean Sea, and, as the charts of to-day are rather better than they were in the elder Crafer's time, he found Coffin Island marked very plainly, though still not named, thereon; and he also saw the three Keys dotted on it. "So that's all right and comfortable," Reginald said to himself, whereon he at once made all his plans for going on his search, and, as has been told, had by now arrived at Antigua, whence the _Tyne_ goes fortnightly to Tortola and Anguilla. Yet, when he had settled down here to wait for that vessel's sailing--which would not be for another forty-eight hours--he scarcely knew how he should set about his work. Coffin Island might be inhabited by now, for all he knew, though judging by the little knowledge possessed of it by any of the _personnel_ of the ship in which he had come out, it did not appear very probable that it was. Nobody on board that ship could say whether it was occupied or not, most of the officers, indeed, being a little hazy as to where Coffin Island was. However, by the next day he had gained one piece of information which might or might not be true, but that, if the former, was likely to throw some difficulties in his way. He had learnt that there were inhabitants--as his informant believed, though he wouldn't be certain--on the island; for that there was such a place as Coffin Island was very well known in Antigua, if not in the Royal Mail steamers. He had encountered as he lounged about the hotel in St. John's--which is the capital of Antigua,--one of those busy gentlemen who are to be found in almost every part of the world to which strangers come and go: an American. This worthy person, who was young, tall, and dandified, having in his "bosom" a beautiful diamond pin, addressed Reginald the first moment he saw him with such a flood of offers and questions as almost stunned him; yet so long was the flow of oratory that it gave him time to collect his thoughts and be wary. "If," said Mr. Hiram Juby, as he handed out a big card with that name on it, "you are thinking of settling here, I can be of assistance to you. Though, if you're buying land, I should scarcely recommend Antigua. It is not very remunerative and not cheap. Now, in Dominica, which has no export duties, sir, Crown land can be obtained for two dollars and a half an acre. Trinidad is five dollars, St. Lucia five; Tobago, also without export duties, is two and a half. I am also an agent for the United States Governmental Insurance Company, patronised and insured in by the first families of the----" "I am not thinking of buying any land, Mr. Juby," Reginald said, quietly. "Then you must be a tourist. Therefore, you will want to know the best hotels. Now there is----" "I shall stay at no hotels," Reginald again replied. "Stay at no hotels! Then you are perhaps going to camp out. If so, I have the agency for some of the best United States tents, utensils, rifles and guns, hickory fishing-rods, and so forth. Sir, will you take a cocktail, or shall we try a dish of mangrove oysters? Or, if you are a conchologist, mineralogist, or botanist, I should like to show you some collections I have for sale which would save you much labour and classification----" "Sir," said Reginald, "I am none of those things! I am a sailor amusing myself with a visit to this lovely spot. I want nothing," and he turned on his heel. "Stay, sir, stay, I beg," Mr. Juby said, going after him as he left the verandah. "You are a sailor visiting this lovely spot, and you want nothing I can supply you with! Why, sir, I have the very thing for you--a thing that would have suited nobody but a sailor. I have a little thirteen-ton cutter yacht--it belonged to Sir Barnaby Briggs--your countryman, sir, who died of drink, so they said, not I, in Guadaloupe--but then these French will say anything but their prayers. And I will let it you, sell it to you, furnish it for you, find you a sailor man or so----" "What," said Reginald, interested now, for he thought perhaps here was the best way of all in which to visit Coffin Island--"what do you want for the hire of it?" But before even these terms could be arranged, Mr. Juby insisted--and he would take no denial--that they should be discussed over the most popular drink in all the West Indian Islands, a cocktail; so on to the verandah they went to partake of one. And it was among the various acquaintances to whom Mr. Juby--in thorough American fashion--insisted on "presenting" Reginald, that he learnt that Coffin Island was inhabited. CHAPTER XXIX. DRAWING NEAR. "The Virgin Isles," exclaimed one of these acquaintances as he spat on the ground after swallowing his cocktail at a gulp, "the Virgin Isles! Why, darn the Virgin Isles! What can you do there, young fellow, 'cept go fishing? That is, unless you are a Dane or else a Dutchman "--by which he meant a German--"then you might trade a bit." But here Mr. Juby, who didn't quite approve of his new client being called "young fellow," explained that he was a gentleman who had neither come to settle nor travel, but only to see the place generally. Also, he informed him, as if the whole thing was settled--which it wasn't--that Mr. Crafer had hired the late Sir Barnaby Briggs's yacht from him and was going to make some tours in it. "Oh!" said the other, scraping the frozen sugar off the rim of his empty glass as he spoke, and sucking it off his finger--"Oh! if that's all, he's welcome enough to go to the Virgin Isles if he wants to. I thought he wanted to shove some dollars into coco-growing or Liberian coffee. A tourist, eh?" "That's all," said Reginald, "only a tourist." "Well! there's good enough sailing round the Virgin Isles or any others in these parts, if you want to sail; but I thought Mr. Juby said you were a sailor. Now, if you are, what do you want to go sailin' about for? Isn't dry land good enough for a sailor off duty?" "Do you know the Virgin Islands?" asked Reginald, not caring to notice the man's cantankerous disposition. "Know 'em! I guess I do know 'em! all the lot. And not one worth a red. Which do you particular want to see?" "All of them," replied Reginald. "Perhaps Tortola in particular." "Tortola! the rottenest of the lot, except, perhaps, Anegada. Or, p'raps I'd best say Coffin Island. That is about the--there! well!----I'll be----" "Coffin Island!" exclaimed Reginald, now very wary. "That's a sweet name! What sort of a place is that?" "Kinder place fit to go and die in, to just roll yourself up in and kick. Kind of a dog's hole, covered with palm trees, gros-gros, moriches and all, Spanish baggonets and sich like. A place as is all yellow and voylet and pink and crimson with flowers, and smells like a gal's boodwar," (this was an awful mouthful for him, but he got it out safely), "though I don't know much about gals' boodwars neither. My daughters ain't got none." "It must be lovely," Reginald said quietly. "Love--ly!" the man echoed. "Love--ly! Bah! there ain't five pounds' trade in it a year. The oranges and guavas ain't worth fetching when you can get 'em in the other places without half the trouble, nor more ain't the nutmegs. Likewise, it's chock-a-block full of tarantula spiders and centipides." "In such a case I suppose it is uninhabited," Reginald hazarded. "Well, no it ain't, not altogether," the other replied. "Leastways, that's to say partly. There's a fisher fellow lives there when he ain't nowheres else, and he's got a son and a darter. They've been a living there for over a cent'ry, I've heard tell." "What!" exclaimed Reginald and Juby together while others round who had been listening to the discourse burst out laughing. "For over a cent'ry and more," the man went on, "this fellow Bridges' family have been living there----" "Only," chimed in another man, "that ain't the name. It ain't Bridges at all. It's Aldridge." "No," said still a third, "it isn't Aldridge neither, though something like it." "Are you telling the story or am I?" exclaimed the first. "And darn the name! What do names matter?" Here he was appeased by the thoughtfulness of Reginald, who suggested some more cocktails round, after which he went on-- "More than a cent'ry, I've heard they've been there. You see, this family is a bit wrong in their heads, and they've got into those heads the idea that somewhere in that darned Coffin Island there's a mort of treasure buried----" Reginald was sipping his cocktail as the man arrived at this point, and his teeth clicked involuntarily against the glass as the latter uttered the last words; but, beyond this, he did not betray himself Yet it seemed to him that his heart beat quicker than before. "And, therefore, if it's to be found," the man continued, "they mean to find it. Yet no one as I ever heard of, or knew, believes it's there. If it was to be got, they'd have got it before. They do say they've dug up half the island looking for it. But there, I don't know, I've never been ashore in Coffin Island myself." "But," said Reginald, "you said just now that the man only lived there when he did not live somewhere else. Does he leave his island sometimes, then?" "He does and so does the son. You see, mister, up that way the people are sailors--like yourself!--just because they can't be much else. And good sailors they are, too, as well as fishermen, so when they've got no turtle nor fish to take, as happens in some times of the year, they go off as sailors in any ship in these parts as wants hands. Now, some of 'em goes down Aspinwall and Colon way--that there once-supposed-to-be-going-to-be-made Panama Canal took a lot of men down there--and some goes to the other Islands, even up to Jamaiky and so on. Well, the old man and his son can't always just live on their stock-rearing and fishing and turtle-catching, and so off they goes too, to get a few more dollars to buy a cask of rum or something they want." "But the daughter; she cannot go as a sailor too!" "Oh, no! But she can stop at home and look after the shop. And they do say that she's quite able to do it. She's a caution, I've heard." This was all the man knew, and, under the influence of the cocktails, he would have been very willing to go on telling more, had he had any further information. And, indeed, considering the distance of Antigua from Coffin Island, it was extraordinary that he should have been able to tell so much. Or, rather, it would have been extraordinary, were it not for the amount of intercourse and communication that takes place between all the numerous islands in the Antilles, and the gossip that is carried backwards and forwards, and is for ever floating about among the sparse population of these, now, much-neglected places. By night Reginald had changed his plans; instead of going on to Tortola in the _Tyne_, he had decided to hire Sir Barnaby Briggs's yacht, the _Pompeia_, from Mr. Juby, and to finish his journey in her. To him it seemed the wisest thing he could do. He would attract less attention at Tortola as a man cruising about for a holiday in the region; and, by living on board, he would be exposed to little questioning. Moreover, so good a sailor as he wanted no assistance in managing such a craft as this; in calm weather he could go about where he liked, and in bad weather shelter could be run for and reached in almost half an hour among the continuous chain of islands hereabouts. And, finally, he could work his way up to Coffin Island, take some observations of the strange family dwelling thereon, and see if the Keys looked as if they too had been submitted to the searching process. It was a tough job, however, to bring the astute Juby to terms, even over so trifling a thing as hiring the _Pompeia_. At first he would hardly name the sum he wanted, and then, when that was arranged at £20 a month--which, after all, was not out of the way--he made various other stipulations, more, as it seemed to Reginald, for the pleasure of so making them and fussing about, than for any wonderful advantage to himself. "I must have a deposit," he said, adding cheerfully, "yachts do get sunk even here, and there's no telling what might happen, though I'm sure of one thing, sir, you wouldn't run away with her. Then she must be insured in the United States Governmental Insurance Company for the other half, and----" But, to cut Mr. Juby short, Reginald, who had brought a very comfortable little sheaf of Bank of England notes wherewith to prosecute his search, consented to his terms, and became the tenant of the lamented Sir Barnaby's yacht. She proved, when he went down to see her before finally concluding negotiations, a very serviceable-looking little cutter, strongly built, having a good inventory, her ballast all lead, copper all new, a full outfit, and a double-purchase capstan. And she bore on her the name of a well-known Barbadoes builder, of whom, probably, the late baronet had purchased her new. "I don't mind taking that nigger as far as Tortola," said Reginald, pointing out a man loafing about St. John's harbour, "if he wants a job as he says he does, but he'll have to go ashore there. I'm fond of sailing by myself and shan't employ him regularly, at any rate." And in this way he set off upon his journey once more, sailing the _Pompeia_ himself, and letting the negro potter about, cook a meal or two, and gossip a little on subjects of interest in the islands, but of none at all to him. And at Tortola--to which the man belonged--he sent him ashore, telling him that whenever the cutter came in and out he could come and see if he was wanted, and perhaps earn a shilling or two. The weather was everything that could be desired, and, had Reginald been the most Cockney yachtsman that ever kept a yacht in the Thames, instead of a skilful sailor, he would have found it all he wished, while the cruise past the intermediate islands was charming even to him, who had seen so much of the world. The great peak of Nevis interested him by recalling the fact that it was in this island that Nelson found his wife, when, as captain of the _Boreas_, he brought his ship here after chasing the French fleet; while St. Kitt's, with its "Mount Misery," and its claims to be the Gibraltar of the West Indies, appealed also to his naval mind. And, when the scarlet-roofed houses of St. Thomas, surrounded by the glorious foliage of that fair island, hove into sight as the _Pompeia_ left Santa Cruz on her port beam, he felt a thrill of satisfaction, mixed, perhaps, with excitement at the knowledge that Coffin Island was at hand. Another day or so would bring him to the place of which his relative had, in his quaint style, left so graphic a description; he would probably come into contact with the strange family that dwelt in Coffin Island; he would be near his inheritance. "Yet," he said to himself, as he set the yacht's head a point further north, to run up what still retains its old name of "Sir Francis Drake's Passage"--"yet is it my inheritance? Or does it not by right belong to this poor family, who, it seems, have for over a hundred years been searching hopelessly for it? Is it theirs or mine? Theirs--who, by some strange fate, have come to the knowledge that treasure is buried here, perhaps was buried by their own ancestors, who left the story of it--or mine, who am only the kinsman of the man who lighted on that treasure, but could not take it away with him? Well! I shall see. Perhaps, when I have met these people who live in so primitive a state, I shall know better what to do--know whether it is best to get the treasure and go off with it, or do my duty, and, if it is rightly theirs, restore it to them." So, you will perceive, not only was Reginald a romantic and adventurous young man, but also a very straightforward one! CHAPTER XXX. OUT OF THE DEPTHS OF A FAR DISTANT PAST. Two days after these reflections the _Pompeia_ was making her entrance under very light sail into that river--spoken of variously by Nicholas as a canal, an inlet, and an outlet--in which the fight with the _Etoyle_ had taken place. And it almost seemed to Reginald as if he must himself have been a partaker of that fight, so visibly did his predecessor's story rise before his mind now that he was in the very spot. "It was here," he thought, as he lowered the last remaining yard of sail, "that the _Etoyle_ was across the stream, there that the galliot lay before they went at them. Heavens and earth! why does not Nicholas rise up before my sight with his round face and light bob wig, as he appears in the little picture at home, and in his scarlet coat?--but--no, he would not have them on here. Those braveries were not for cruises such as he was upon." Then he looked around again. "Which, I wonder, was the spot where Alderly drew up the box from under the water, and where he murdered the diver? Which the spot where the path led up to the hut? Why does not some spirit rise to point these things out to me?" All was very calm here now as the romantic young man indulged in these meditations. There was no sign of life about the island--of human life; it was as still as though it were uninhabited. Yet all the tropic life was there, all the gorgeous colouring of which the Yankee settler--if he were a Yankee--who told him the story of the place had spoken. The fan-palms, the moriches, and the gros-gros grew side by side; red poinsettias mingled with wild begonias, purple dracæna and yellow crotons; the rattans and orchids were tangled together in an indescribable confusion of beauty. "It is the isle of Nicholas's description. No doubt about that!" said Reginald. "And," he continued, drawing his pipe from his pocket and lighting it, "I am here as once Nick was here. What a pity there is no one to represent the murdered diver and his assassin, the drunken, maddened pirate." As he reflected thus he heard the bark of a dog a little distance off; a few moments later he heard another sound as though branches were being parted; presently a voice spoke to the dog, and then the foliage growing down to the river's bank was pushed aside, and a woman came out from that foliage and stood gazing at him. "Who are you?" she asked. "And what do you want?" From his cutter to the shore, thirty to forty feet off, he in return gazed upon her, though his surprise did not prevent his remembering he was a gentleman, and, from the distance, taking off his hat to her while he put away his pipe. She stood before him, surrounded by all that luxuriance of colour and tropical vegetation, a girl "something more than common tall," and of, perhaps, nearly twenty years of age. A girl dressed in a light cotton gown--a very West Indian robe, both in its plain quality and pattern--that hung loosely upon her, yet did not conceal the shapely form beneath. On her head she wore a large napping straw hat, but it was not at her hat, but at what was beneath it, that Reginald looked. Her features were beautiful--there is no other word but this simple one to describe them--her colouring that which is often found in these regions, but scarcely anywhere else; the eyes a dark, lustrous hazel, the eyebrows black, the hair, which hung down like a mane upon her back, golden, with a tinge of copper red in it. "Who are you?" she asked again, though he noticed that her voice was not a harsh one, nor, in spite of the question, an angry one. "What do you require?" "Pardon me," replied Reginald, still spellbound at her appearance. "Pardon me. I hope this is no intrusion. I am yachting in a small way about the islands here. And among other places that attracted my attention was this river. I trust my presence is not objectionable." "No," the girl replied quietly. Then she said, "Do you belong to the islands, or are you English or American?" "I am English," he answered. "A sailor in Her Majesty's service." She paused a moment, as though, it seemed to him, scarce knowing what to say, then she spoke again. "Are you going to land?" "If I may do so. If it is permissible." "Oh, yes," she said. "You may do so. Sometimes people land here." He took her permission at once, and, dropping the cutter's anchor, drew up the dinghy that was aft of her, and, getting into it, stepped on shore close by her side. And, as he did so, he wondered, "Was it here that Nicholas landed?" Then once more taking off his hat as he came near to her, he said: "Why do people sometimes land here? Have you any particular object of interest in your island?" He would like to have added in a gallant fashion, and sailor-like, "besides yourself," but, on consideration, refrained from doing so. The girl smiled, as he could see, while she bent down to quiet the dog that was jumping about Reginald as though welcoming a new acquaintance. Then she replied-- "No, not any particular object. Yet people come here because there is a history attached to my family, or, perhaps I should say, my family really has a history connected with this island--though I for one do not believe it." "And that history is?" Reginald asked eagerly. "An ancestor of mine was supposed to have buried a treasure, or to have found one, and never been able to remove it. Yet, since he lived a wild life--for I fear he was a pirate--he left with his wife, a mere girl, a full description of where it could be found should he at any time fail to return to her. He did fail at last to return, and the place which he had named was this island, the exact spot being a cellar under a hut." She paused a moment, then she added, "The hut was found and the cellar, but--the treasure was gone." Whether the faintness which came over Reginald at this moment--a thing he had never experienced before--was caused by the change from the cool sea breezes to the warmth exhaled by the thick vegetation of the island and the rich odour sent forth by the flowers, he has never yet been able to tell. All he knows is that, at her words, the place where they were standing swam round him, the palms seemed to be dancing a stately measure with each other and the island spinning, too, while he heard the girl's voice exclaiming: "You are not well. What has overcome you?" "I do not know," he replied. "It must be the heat ashore; yet I am used to all kinds of heat. A little water would revive me. I will go back to the cutter." "There is a rill close by," she said; "come and drink from that." He went towards it, following the direction she indicated, his mind still confused, his brain whirling. "Where had he heard of a rill before in connection with the island?" he asked himself; yet as he did so he knew very well it was somewhere in Nicholas's narrative. And the hut and the cellar beneath! Above all, a girl whose red mane was thrown behind her! Where had he heard of one such as that? He drank from the well and cooled his hands and face--still remembering that Nicholas had in some portion of his story described how he had done this same thing--and all the time the girl stood watching him. "You will pardon me this exhibition of weakness, I hope," he said. "But I am all right now. And your story is so interesting, so much like a romance, that--if I may stay a little longer--I should like to hear some more of it. That is, if my curiosity is not offensive." "No," the girl said simply, and her very ease before him and her lack of ceremony showed how much a stranger she was to any worldly conventionality. "I am very glad to have anyone to talk to. One gets tired of living always, or nearly always, alone." "Alone! But surely you don't live alone in Coffin Island? I had heard there were at least two--two men here." "There are sometimes--my father and brother; but they go away to sea for weeks together, especially since they have almost abandoned the thought of our finding the fabulous treasure. They are away now, though I expect them back soon." "And you are not afraid to live here all by yourself?" "Afraid! Why should I be? We cannot find the buried treasure, therefore it is not likely anyone else could do so. And there is nothing else here to tempt anyone." "Was there not?" Reginald reflected. "Was there not?" Yet she seemed so innocent and simple that he could not tell her his thoughts. He could not tell her, as he might have told a more worldly girl, that to many men there was a greater temptation in that graceful form and those hazel eyes and tawny golden hair than in all the dross beneath the surface of the earth. So he only said-- "But if you found the treasure? What would you do then?" "We should go away, I suppose--though I should be sorry to leave this island. We should go into the world then--perhaps to Antigua or Trinidad." Reginald here politely concealed a smile, and she went on, "But I hope we shall never find it. My father and brother are used to the life they lead here; I do not think the outer world would suit them." "But they are sailors and have seen it, you say?" "They are sailors, but not such as you. They are simple, rough men, scarcely able to read or to write. That was, I think, why they--why my father--sent me to school at Antigua." "But how do you live while they are away?" he asked her now. "Very well. I have the hut, and there is always plenty of dried meat and fresh fruit. And sometimes I fish, or shoot a bird. There are plenty here of both kinds." Then she stopped and, looking at him, said, "Would you like to see our home? It is not far." The girl's _naïveté_ won on him so that there was but one reply possible--an immediate and fervent assent to this invitation; and a few moments later they were treading a path through the wood. "The path," Reginald said to himself, "that doubtless he walked, leading to the hut where he saw Alderly die. The same, yet all so different!" "A little glade on which the moon did shine as though on a sweet English field at home," he remembered Nicholas had written--and, lo! they were in it now. "A little glade bordered on all sides by golden shaddocks, grapefruits, citrons and lime-trees, with, at their feet and trailing round them, the many-hued convolvuli of the tropics, passion-flowers and grandillos." Only, instead of seeking for a bloodstained sea-robber, Reginald was following in the footsteps of this woodland nymph--this girl whose beauty and innocence acted like a charm upon him. Then, next, they entered the tangled forest that Nicholas had passed through, and here again all was as he had described it. The gleaming leaves of the star-apple shone side by side with the palms and cotton-trees; the fresh cool plantains and the cashews stopped their way sometimes; the avocados and yams and custard-apples were all around them. And turning a bend of the path they came upon the hut, even as, two centuries ago, Nicholas had come upon the hut where Alderly had played host to the spectres of his drunken imagination. Of course it could not be the same; the old one must long ago have rotted away, even if not pulled down. This to which the girl led him was a large, substantial wooden building, painted white and green, with all around it--which made it appear even larger--a balcony, or piazza, and with jalousies thrown over the rails of the piazza from above the windowless frames. On the balcony were rude though comfortable chairs covered with striped Osnaburgh cloths; against the railing there stood a gun--it was hers!--and there were large calabashes standing about, some full of water and some empty, with smaller ones for drinking from. "This is my home," the girl said. "And it is here that we have lived for nearly two hundred years, the house being rebuilt as it fell into disrepair from time to time. I pray you to be seated. Later, when you have rested, you shall see where the diggings have been made in the searches for the supposed treasure." "And where," said Reginald, speaking as one in a stupor, "is the spot you told me of, the cellar where the treasure once had been?" "It is below the floor of this verandah we are standing on. Why do you ask?" "Your story interests me so," he replied. "It seems so like a dream. But," he continued, "later on, another day, perhaps you will tell me all of it. For instance, I should so much like to know how your ancestor, who at last never returned, came to possess the treasure and to leave it buried here." "He found it here," she said, "by chance, and ever afterwards he made this island a resort of his. I have told you he was a bad man--I am afraid, a pirate." Again there came a feeling into Reginald's mind that he was losing his senses, that he was going mad. And the next question he asked, with the answer he received, might, indeed, have justified him in so thinking. "Will you tell me," he said, "to whom I owe this hospitable reception on Coffin Island? Will you tell me your name?" "My name," she replied, "is Barbara Alderly." CHAPTER XXXI. SOME LIGHT UPON THE PAST. Her name was Barbara Alderly! This girl whose beauty was as fresh and pure as her mind was innocent, the girl who--in spite of being able to shoot birds for her food and cook them too, or to sail a boat as well as Reginald himself could do--looked as delicate as any girl brought up in an English country house, was Barbara Alderly, _his_, the pirate's, descendant! It seemed impossible--impossible that she could claim relationship with such as he had been; yet it was so! A week passed from the time she had divulged her name, a week in which they were always together during the daytime--he going to his boat at night, and joining her again in the early morning--and in that week each had told the other their story, Barbara being the first to relate hers. But in justice to Reginald it must be said that, never from the moment he had heard who she was, had he had one thought of keeping back from her the secret of where the treasure was hidden, or of depriving her and her relations of one farthing of it. "It must all be theirs," he said to himself, "all, all. I could not go away from this island with one penny of it in my pocket and continue to think myself an honest man." But first he had to hear her family story--in itself a romance, if ever there was one--she telling it to him a few days after their acquaintance, as they sat on the verandah, while he drank some water from one of the calabashes, flavoured with a dash of whisky brought up by him from the _Pompeia_, and she played with her inseparable companion, the dog, Carazo. "You must know," she began, "that it was not until some years after Simon Alderly--who was the man I think to have been a pirate--failed to return to Port Royal, where he lived, that his still young wife, Barbara--her name being the same as mine--found the paper telling her of the treasure in this island." "Barbara!" Reginald interrupted, memory recalling Nicholas's words once more. "Barbara! A portrait of a girl with blue eyes, red gold hair, and a sweet mouth!" "What do you mean, sir?" exclaimed his young hostess, looking at him for the first time with something like surprise, if not alarm. "How do you know she was like that? She has been dead for," and she counted rapidly on her fingers--"for one hundred and seventy years!" "Miss Alderly," Reginald replied, "will you believe me if I tell you that I think I shall be able to throw some light upon your family history when I have heard it? I have something to tell you as well as to listen to." "Then," said the girl, "your presence here is not due to accident. You have come purposely to this island in connection with the hidden wealth it is supposed to contain." "Yes!" he said, "yes, I could not tell you an untruth. I have come purposely here to find out about that wealth. Believe me, my presence bodes no harm to you or yours, no deprivation of what belongs rightly to you." "Oh!" she said, "how happy that will make father. But will you not tell me----" "With your permission," he replied, "I will not tell you anything until you have told me your story. Then I will keep nothing back from you--I will, indeed, help you to recover that which has been sought for so long----" "You know where it is?" "I think so. I discovered the secret in England, and I came out here to dig----" "But," she again interrupted, "if you discovered the secret, then this treasure is yours, not ours." "No," he said hastily, "no; it would have been mine had I not found that there were people in existence who are more righteously entitled to it. Now I shall find it, if I can, for you. Pray continue your tale. When that is concluded I will begin mine." For some time he could not bring her to do so, his words having caused her much excitement; but at last she took up the thread of her narrative--the narrative interrupted so early in its commencement. "This Barbara," she said at last--while all the time her clear eyes had a searching, almost troubled, look, as she kept them fixed on him--"this Barbara of whom you seem to know, or to have guessed the appearance, though I cannot say if it is a correct one, had herself a strange history. Simon Alderly had found her, a child of about four years old, alone and deserted on one of the Lucayos group, and, since there was a boat washing about on the coast of the island, he thought that possibly she had drifted ashore in it, while her parents, or those who had saved her, had fallen into the sea from the boat after escaping from some sinking ship. He took her off, however, carried her to Port Royal, and, after bringing her up, married her when she was fifteen. Then he left her in charge of his house there, while he, following the calling of a sea-captain, was frequently away from home, sometimes for weeks at a time, sometimes for months, sometimes for more than a year. But whenever he returned he always brought a great deal of money--generally composed of the coins of several different nations--half of which he always gave to her for future household expenses, spending the remainder in great rejoicing while he stayed on shore." "This is, of course, family history," Reginald hazarded, "handed down from generation to generation? Is it not?" "You shall hear, though you have guessed right. Our family records since that time have been carefully kept." "I beg your pardon for interrupting you," Reginald said. "Pray go on." "However," the girl continued, stroking Carazo's ears all the while as she did so, "the time came when he returned no more; he disappeared finally in 1687." "Ah!" exclaimed Reginald involuntarily. Again her soft hazel eyes stared full at him as she exclaimed, "You are aware of that; you know it as well as I do!" "Yes," he answered, "I know it. Once more forgive me." "Perhaps," she said, "you know as much, or more than I do!" "No," he replied, "after that I know no more. After the year 1687 down to this period I know nothing further of Simon Alderly--indeed I did not even know that his name was Simon; what you tell me of incidents after that period will be new to me." "And you will tell me all you know when I have finished?" she asked, looking at him with such trusting eyes that no man, unless he were a scoundrel, could have had one thought of obtaining her confidence and yet holding his own. "On my honour I will," he answered, "even to telling you where I believe your wealth is hidden." She made a gesture as though deprecating the word "your," and then, seeing he was waiting eagerly for her to continue, she did so. "He disappeared finally in 1687--Barbara never heard of him again. Then as time went on she grew very poor. There had been a son born to them whom she had brought up to be a sailor, too, hoping thereby that, when he also became a roamer, he might somehow gather news of his father; and by turning the house into an inn, she managed to exist. In that way years passed and she began to grow old, while her son still followed the sea, though never rising to be anything more than a humble seaman. But more years after, when she was getting to be quite an old woman, her house was blown down in a hurricane--though it had survived the terrible one of 1722, when all the wharves at Port Royal were destroyed--and then--she found something." "What?" asked Reginald. "What was it?" He remembered what David Crafer had found under circumstances not dissimilar, and, perhaps, because he was a sailor--and thereby given even in these modern days to belief in strange and mysterious things--he wondered if the hand of Fate had pointed out to that old Barbara some marvellous clue to where the treasure was. Yet he knew that it could scarce have told her of the removal of the chests of treasure from the island to the Key. "She found," went on the Barbara of to-day, "a little walled-up wooden cupboard----" "Great Heaven!" he muttered beneath his breath, so that, this time, she did not hear him. "Close to the place where he used to sit and drink when at home, but of the existence of which she was ignorant. Yet, she remembered, he had often told her that there were secret hiding-places in the house, and that, if he died suddenly or never came back, she was to search diligently and she would find them. Especially he bade her search in that room; but, what with waiting and watching for his return, she had forgotten his instructions. And now that it was burst open, the wall that secured it being only a plank of wood which fell out at the first violence of the hurricane, she found this cupboard full of various pieces of money, gold and silver, and a paper in his writing telling her of his treasure in this island." "Then it was his!" exclaimed Reginald. "By discovery. He wrote that he had put into Coffin Island--as it was called even so long ago as his time--in a storm, and that, while roaming about the place, he and his comrades had come upon a hut, old and long since built, but quite deserted now. Then he went on to write--my father has the paper now, and I have often seen it--that the sloop he had was sent to Tortola to fetch provisions----" "Was it in charge of a man named Martin, by any chance?" asked Reginald. But now he saw how imprudent he was. As he mentioned that name the girl started from her seat and retreated from him to the other end of the verandah. "You frighten me," she said. "I do not understand. How do you know this?" "Do not be alarmed, I beg," he answered in return. "When you have told your story I will put into your hands a paper that has been found, written by a forerunner of mine who knew Simon Alderly. Then you will see how I know what I do. Pray feel no alarm. I mean you nothing but goodwill, nothing. The treasure shall be yours and no one else's. Will you trust in me?" "Yes," she said, once more calmed. "Yes, I will." Then she seated herself again and at his persuasion continued the narrative, while Reginald could not but reflect how little fear Nicholas need have had of "Martin coming back with the sloop." The bewildered mind of the drink-inflamed pirate had mixed up two separate sojourns in Coffin Island! "The sloop went to Tortola to purchase provisions, and, since they were short-handed, there being but three men excepting my ancestor, all went in her but him. And then it was he found the treasure, it being in a vault or cavern beneath the floor of the hut. It was the simplest way in which he unearthed it, he wrote, and had he not been alone it must have been discovered by the others as well as he. There was a trap-door in the flooring, with a great ring to it, quite visible to anyone, and opening easily. And when he went down some steps into the cavern he found it all--all! Only he had no chance to take it away then, he wrote to his wife; so, putting a vast number of gold pieces in his pocket, he carefully closed the trap-door up again and covered it over with earth, which he stamped down with his feet so that his companions should observe nothing. And in the paper which he left, giving such instructions as were necessary, which were not many--the place was so easily to be found--he wrote down that he had since, whenever opportunity offered, paid visits to Coffin Island, but, being always accompanied by comrades, he never yet had had a chance of removing it. And, he said, if he never brought it home and she found the paper, then she must go to Coffin Island after his death and get it for herself. It was a large treasure, a great fortune, he wrote, it must not be lost." "So," said Reginald, "she came here?" "She came here," the girl continued, "and with her came her son and a woman he had married, a Barbadian. But through all the generations from the day she came--which was in the year 1723--and I am the eighth in descent from her, they have never found the treasure. The vault was there, but there was nothing in it." "Yet your family have continued to seek for it," exclaimed Reginald. "I should almost have thought they would have desisted." "No," Barbara replied, "they never desisted. For first, they thought that Simon might have changed the hiding-place after he had left the paper in Jamaica--the life he led would probably necessitate his doing so, since his companions might otherwise have also found the vault--and, next, the island had become their home. Simon's son bought it for half-a-crown an acre, his wife having some little money, and we have lived here ever since, while every man who has succeeded to it has made further search." So the tale was told, and now the time had come for Reginald to tell his. And as that night he took farewell of Barbara, he said-- "To-morrow I shall tell you why the treasure has never been found by your family. To-morrow I shall bring you a narrative left by that connection of mine, saying where the treasure is hidden. He knew Simon Alderly, and he found out the hiding-place." "And was Simon indeed a pirate?" Barbara asked. "Would it grieve you to hear he was?" She thought a moment before replying, and then she said-- "No, for we have always thought him to be one. No, not if it will not make you think worse of me for having descended from him." "I knew that was so," Reginald replied, "when you told me your name. And I do not think I showed by my manner that I thought any the worse of you." CHAPTER XXXII. THE SOLITUDE IS INTERRUPTED. The weather had changed, and, as is always the case in the tropics, the change was extreme. The wind blew now from the northeast, dashing the sea up in mountains on to the strip of beach around that quarter of Coffin Island, hurling it with a roar like great claps of thunder over the beach on to the vegetation beyond it, crashing down trees and saplings, and entirely obliterating for a time the three little Keys, in the middle one of which was Simon Alderly's treasure. This Key Reginald had gazed upon more than once since he had been in the island; he had even pointed it out to Barbara on the morning after she had told her tale, and had added the few missing links to the knowledge she already possessed; and he had also informed her that therein lay her fortune. "So," the girl said on that morning, as she gazed down from the cliff on which they stood to where the already fast-rising waves were washing over the spot in question, "it is there they ought to have searched. It has laid there all the time! Yet no one ever thought of those little islets. Well! I am glad!" "Why?" asked Reginald, as he looked round at her. He had given her his arm to steady her against the fierce wind blowing now under the purple, sun-coloured clouds rolling up from the northeast, and she had taken it. Yet, as she did so, she scarcely knew why she should accept that proffered arm. She was used to all changes of weather in this, her island; she could stand as easily upon the tallest crags that it possessed as any of her goats, or even the sea-birds that dwelt upon them, could do. Yet, still, she had taken it! "Oh! I don't know," she replied in answer to his question; "yet--yet, I think I am. Because--" she paused again, and then went on. "Because, you see, if any of my people had found it before now--before you came here--why, you would have found nothing yourself when you arrived, after you had made so long a journey. And, we should have been gone--you and I would never have met." Something in the sailor's nature tingled as she said those words in her simplicity--something, he knew not what. Still, in response, he turned his eyes on her, and gazed into those other clear eyes beside him, shaded with their long, jet-black lashes. Then he said-- "For us never to have met would have been the worst thing of all, Barbara." It seemed absurd to call her Miss Alderly, here in this wild tropical garden inhabited only by themselves; to give her the stilted prefix that would have been required in the midst of civilisation. So, not for the first time, he had addressed her by her Christian name. And to her--who perhaps in her schooldays only, in Antigua, had ever known what it was to be spoken of as Miss Alderly--it appeared not at all strange that he should so address her. "But," he went on, "as for the treasure, as for the finding of it--that might as well have happened fifty or a hundred years ago as now. It is yours and your family's; not a farthing of it belonged to my relative, nor belongs to me." "That shall never be," she replied. "My father, although a rough, simple sailor, is an honest, straightforward man; he, at least, would never hear of such a thing as your not having your share. And for my brother----" but here she paused. "Why," asked Reginald, after a moment had elapsed--"why do you hesitate at the name of your brother?" "Because," she replied, "he is different. He is," and she buried her face in her hands for a moment and then uncovered it again--"he is a cruel, grasping man, selfish and greedy. He rules us more as if he were father than father himself, and he tyrannises even over him. He takes all the money they both earn while they are away together, and, generally, he spends it. When they went to Aspinwall, at the time they were so busy about the Canal, he took all they had both earned and spent it at the Faro and Monte tables, as they call them down there. And once he struck father before me, when they were both at home, because he wanted to go over to Porto Rico, where the Spaniards gamble day and night, and father would not give him the money for some goats he had sold to a Tortola dealer. Oh!" she continued, "he is terrible! and when he takes his share of what is in the Key, I dread to think of what he will do with it." As she finished, the storm increased with such violence that it was necessary for them to leave the crag on which they stood--otherwise they would possibly be blown off it ere many moments had elapsed. Moreover, the hot rain was beginning now--and in these regions only a few moments elapse between the fall of the first drop and the drenching downpour of a tropical storm; it was time for them to seek the refuge of Barbara's home. The thunder, too, was very near now, so at once they hurried onwards, gaining the desired shelter before the worst of the storm had set in. It was to-day--the day following Barbara's account of Simon Alderly--that Reginald had promised to read to her Nicholas's narrative. He had it in his pocket now; indeed he regarded it as too precious a thing to leave carelessly about, and consequently it was always with him, and to-day he proposed ere leaving her to get through some portion of it. He meant to read it all through, partly as a story that he thought would interest the girl, partly as a justification of Nicholas. For, he considered, if, since she already believed her ancestor to be a pirate, he proved to her that he was indeed such, then Nicholas must be acquitted in her mind for having himself removed and hidden away that which did not belong to him. So they, having reached the house, sat themselves down to the narrative, he to read and she to listen. They were no longer able to sit upon the verandah since the rain now beat down pitilessly and as though it never meant to cease, and the wind, even in the middle of the little island, was very boisterous. And so, when the jalousies had been fastened tightly to prevent the flapping they had previously made, Reginald began Nicholas's story, prefacing it with the account of how it had been found. It was about ten o'clock in the day when this young couple, who had so strangely been brought together in this island, began that story--for they met and parted early; it was nearly nightfall when Reginald arrived at the description of how Alderly died singing his drunken song. And amidst the swift-coming darkness--a darkness made more intense by the heavy pall of clouds that hung above the island--there seemed to come over them both that feeling of creepiness, of melancholy horror, which Nicholas had described himself as becoming overwhelmed with. The girl seemed far more overcome by this feeling than Reginald was. She started again and again at every fresh gust that shook the frail fabric in which she dwelt, her eyes stared fixedly before her as though she saw the spectre of her pirate ancestor rising up, and once she begged him to desist for a moment from his reading. "It was below here," she whispered, "below the very spot where we sit, that that wretch, that murderous villain, died in his sin. Oh! it is horrible! horrible to think that we have all lived here so long, that I was born here. Horrible!" "Barbara," said Reginald, "do not regard it so seriously. I was wrong to read you all I have--yet, think. Think! It is two hundred years since it all happened--we have nothing to do with that long-buried past." "Yes, yes," she said. "I know that we have not. Yet--yet--this is the very spot--the very place. That makes it all so much more horrible, so much more ghostly. And to-night, I know not why, I feel as I have never felt before, nervous, frightened, alarmed, as though at some danger near at hand. Let me light the lamp ere you continue." "It is the storm has made you nervous," he replied, trying to soothe her while he assisted her to arrange the lamp. "The air, too, is charged with electricity--that alone will unstring your nerves, to say nothing of the darkness and the noise of the tempest. I have done wrong, Barbara; I have selected the worst time for reading this horrible story to you. I should have chosen one of the bright days when we could sit on the crags and have nothing but the brilliant sun about and over us." She glanced up at him with a smile in her clear eyes--the smile that never failed to make him think that he had lit on some woman belonging to another world than his, it was so full of innocence as well as a simple trust that would have well befitted a little child--and laid her hand upon his arm as though to assure him that he had done nothing to affright her. But, as she did so, there came a terrific flash of lightning which illuminated all the tropical wood outside--as they could see through the slats of the jalousie--and then a roar of thunder that made the girl scream and let fall the lamp just lighted. But Reginald caught it deftly, and placing it on the table said with a smile-- "It would never do for another lamp to be overturned here as one was so long ago. Come, Barbara, cheer up, take heart! We will read no more to-night." "Yes, yes," she exclaimed. "Read. Go on reading and finish your story. Besides, we must do something to pass the night--you cannot go to your yacht, and I--I--; for the first time in my life I fear to be alone. I dread, though I know not what. I have been alone night after night here for even weeks and months together, and never feared anything. Yet, now, I am afraid. Pray, do not leave me to-night." He looked at her, admiring, almost worshipping her for the innocence she showed in every word she spoke, and then he said-- "Have no fear, I will not leave you if you wish it. But, Barbara, we must do something else to pass the hours away than read old Nicholas's story. What shall we do? Let us have a game of cards." There were some packs in her house that they had played with before now--cards brought from other islands by her dissolute brother, with which to pass the long nights in, as she frankly owned, trying to get the better of his father; but she would not play now. "No," she said. "Let us come to the end of the tale. I cannot rest until I have heard it all. Do, do finish it." "Very well, if you will," he answered. "And, at any rate, the worst is told. There is nothing more to shock or affright you. Nothing but the burying of the treasure in the spot where it now lies, and where we will dig it up." The jalousies rattled as he spoke--yet at this moment the wind had ceased, and nought was heard but the steady downpour of the rain. But, perhaps because of the incessant noise the storm had made for some hours, neither of them noticed this peculiar incident, though Reginald glanced up as the blind stirred. Then he began again, reading on through Nicholas's strange story, and doing so with particular emphasis, so that she might grasp every word of his description as he told how the measurements were to be taken in the middle Key. And Barbara sat there listening silently. Yet, as he turned a leaf--having now got to that part of the account where Nicholas was picked up by the _Virgin Prize_--he paused in astonishment at the appearance of her face. For she was gazing straight before her at the jalousie, her eyes opened to their widest, her features drawn as though in fright, her face almost distorted. "Look! Look!" she gasped. "Look at the blind." And he, following her glance, was for the moment appalled too. A large hand was grasping half-a-dozen of the slats in its clutch; between those slats a pair of human eyes were twinkling as they peered into the room. As Reginald rose to rush at the intruder, whoever he was, Barbara gave another gasp and fell back fainting into her chair; and then, before her companion could ask the owner of those eyes what he meant by his intrusion, the blinds were roughly thrust aside, and, following this, there came a man of great size, from whom the water dripped as from a dog who had just quitted a river--a man whose face was all bruised and discoloured as though he had been badly beaten. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE ISLAND'S OWNER. "Who are you, and what do you want?" asked Reginald, confronting the intruder; while, as he spoke, he observed that the coarse and scanty clothes in which he was clad were drenched with more water than even the heavens could have poured on him. He was a man of great bulk, young as himself, and with a mass of reddish-yellow hair that hung about his face, matted and dishevelled from the wet in which it was soaked; and as he advanced into the room the water dripped off him on to the floor. "Want!" he replied, "want! What should a man want in his own house but rest and comfort after a storm? Master, this is my house! I had best ask what you want here? And at night--alone with my sister." Yet he did not pause for an answer, but going up to where that sister lay back in the swoon that had overcome her, he shook her roughly by the shoulder and called out-- "Come, get over your fit. I have bad news for you." "Be a little more gentle with her!" Reginald exclaimed. "We can bring her to in a better manner than that;" and as he spoke he went to the spirit flask he had brought up from the yacht, and moistened her lips with some of the whisky, and bathed her forehead with water from one of the calabashes. "What the devil is the matter with the girl?" asked her brother. "She has never been used to indulging in such weaknesses--what does it mean?" "It means," the other replied, "that the storm has frightened her." "Bah! she has seen plenty of them since she was born. We are used to storms here." "And also," Reginald went on, "she saw a man--you--outside, listening to us. She saw your hand on the blind and your face through the slats, but did not recognise you. It is not strange that she should be frightened." But by this time Barbara was coming round--she opened her eyes as her brother spoke, then closed them again, as though the sight of him was horrible to her, and shivered a little. But, after a moment, she opened them once more, and, fixing them on him, said-- "You have come back. Where is father?" "He is dead," he said, using no tone of regret as he spoke, and, indeed, speaking as he might have done of the death of some stranger. "He is dead not an hour ago. The storm drove us here, brought us home. But as we reached the shore, for we could not get round to the creek, the breakers flung our boat over, and us out of it. I was fortunate enough to scramble on land, but the old man had no such luck. He was carried out to sea again, and I saw no more of him." Barbara had burst into tears at the first intimation of her father's death, and now she wept silently, her brother sitting regarding her calmly while he sipped at Reginald's flask as though it were his own!--and the latter felt his whole heart go out to her in sympathy. Yet--how could he comfort her? The one whose place it was to do that was now by her side, but being a rough, uncouth brute, as it was easy to see he was, he neither offered to do so, nor, it seemed probable, would he have done aught but mock at any kind words Reginald might speak. "Father! Father!" the girl sobbed. "Oh, father! And I have been looking forward so much to your return--hoping so much from it. Thinking how happy we might be." Her brother--who seemed to consider that, after having told her of old Alderly's death, no further remark on the subject was necessary, and who, if he knew what sympathy meant, certainly did not consider it needful to exhibit any--had by now turned his back to them and, going to a cupboard, was busily engaged in foraging in it. Reginald had seen Barbara take food out of this cupboard ere this, both for him and for herself--food consisting of dried goat's flesh, cheese and other simple things--and therefore he was not surprised at the man doing so now. But he was somewhat surprised at hearing Barbara, while her brother's back was turned, whisper to him-- "Say nothing at present about the Key." He nodded, willing to take his line of action from her in anything she might suggest in the circumstances which had now arisen; yet he felt that his silence would make his presence there still more inexplicable But, also, his trust was so firm in the girl that without hesitation he determined to do as he was bidden. Presently her brother turned away from the cupboard, coming towards them again and bearing in one hand a piece of coarse bread and, in the other, a scrap of meat he had found. "Been here long keeping Barbara company?" he asked, while his twinkling eyes--how unlike hers! Reginald thought--glistened maliciously. "We don't often get visitors here." "Indeed," Reginald replied; "I have heard differently. I was told in Tortola that curiosity about the strange history of your island brought many people here. And, having a little yacht which I have hired and being a sailor myself, I ventured to pay a visit." "Sailor, eh? What line? American and--but, there, it's easy enough to see you're a Britisher. What is it? Royal Mail, eh?" "I am in the Royal Navy. A lieutenant. And my name's Crafer." "Crafer, eh? and in the Royal Navy? I don't think much of the Royal Navy myself. A damned sight too condescending in their ways, as a rule, are the gentlemen in your line--that is, when they take any notice of you at all. Well, if you're going to stay I hope you're not like that. And my name's Alderly--Joseph Alderly. That's good enough for me." "I certainly did hope to stay a little longer. I am on leave and like cruising about." "Your boat's in the river, you say?" "Yes." "Why don't you live in it instead of in this house, then? Or at Tortola, where there is a hotel? In some of the islands hereabouts my sister would get a bad name if it was known she was entertaining young English officers all alone." At his words Reginald sprang to his feet, Barbara also rising, her hazel eyes, that were usually so soft and innocent, flashing indignant glances at her brutal brother. "You don't know, you don't understand," she began; "if you did you would behave differently. Mr. Crafer has come----" But Reginald was speaking also. "Mr. Joseph Alderly," he said, "this is the first night I have ever stayed in your house as late as this. I should not be here now were it not for the storm. However, I will trespass upon your hospitality no longer. Miss Alderly, I wish you 'Good-night.'" He touched her hand as he spoke--not knowing what her glance meant to convey, yet feeling sure that there must be much she would have said to him if she had had but the opportunity--and then he turned on his heel, passed through the jalousie, and so out on to the verandah. The storm was ceasing as he went forth, the clouds were rolling away to the south; around him there were the odours of all the tropical flowers, their perfume increased threefold by the rain. He knew the path so well now from having traversed it many times backwards and forwards from the _Pompeia_, that it took him very little time even in the dark to reach the bank of the river, to unmoor the dinghy, and to get on board the craft. Then, lighting his pipe, he sat himself down in his little cabin to meditate on what this fresh incident--the arrival of Joseph Alderly--might mean. "I should know better what to think," he mused, "if I only knew how long he had been behind the blind. The brute may have been there for sufficient time to have heard all the last instructions of old Nicholas about finding the treasure which I read out. Or he may have heard only enough to give him an inkling that I know where the treasure is. Let me see," and he put his hand in his pocket and drew forth his forerunner's narrative. "Yes," he muttered, as he turned over the leaves, "yes, I had got far enough--having reached the rescue of Nicholas by the _Virgin Prize_--for him to have heard all if he was there. If he was there; that's it. Only--was he? or did he come later when there was nothing more to be overheard than the description of Nicholas leaving the island?" Again he pondered, turning the arrival of Alderly over in his mind, and then he remembered how the jalousies had rattled at a time when the wind had lulled, though he had taken little heed of the fact beyond glancing up from the papers. Yet, as he racked his mind to recall what they had been saying, or he reading, at the moment, he remembered the words he had uttered-- "There is nothing to tell you now but the burying of the treasure in the spot where it lies and where we will dig it up." These had been his words, or very similar ones. If Alderly had been there then--if he had arrived on the verandah by the time they were uttered--he knew all. He had heard the middle Key mentioned, he had heard how the measurements were to be taken, he knew as much as Reginald and Barbara knew. But--had he been there? was it his hand that shook the blind, or was it some light gust of air, a last breath of the storm? That was the question. Still, independent of this--indeed, far beyond the thought of the treasure, which he had definitely decided he would take no portion of, since it was not, could not be, his by any right--his mind was troubled. Troubled about Barbara and her being alone with the savage creature who was her brother--"Heavens!" he thought, "that they should be the same flesh and blood!"--troubled to think of what form his brutality might take towards her if he suspected that she knew where all the long-sought wealth was hidden away. "But," he said to himself, as he still sat on smoking, "no harm shall come to her if I can prevent it--if I can! nay, as I will. He may order me out of these moorings since the whole island is his--well, let him. If he does, I will find out Nicholas's cove and anchor myself there--or, better still, I will go and lie off the middle Key. And, by the powers! if he does know that the treasure is there and begins to dig for it, not a penny, not a brass farthing shall he take away without my being by to see that he shares fair and fair alike with his sister. He seems capable, from what I have seen of him and she has told me, of taking the whole lot off to Aspinwall or Porto Rico and losing it in one of his loathsome gambling dens, while he leaves her here alone!" He went on deck of his little craft as he made these reflections, and, more from sailor-like habit than aught else--since no one ever came into the river--he trimmed his lights and arranged them for the night, and then went to his cabin and turned in. But before he did so, he cast a glance up to where Barbara's home was, and saw that on the slight eminence there twinkled the rays of the lamp through the now opened windows. All was well, therefore, for this night. Yet he could not sleep. He could not rest for thinking of the girl up there with no one but that brutal kinsman for a companion; with no one to help her if he in his violence should attempt to injure her--a thing he would be very likely to do if he questioned her about aught he might have overheard, and she refused to satisfy him. At last this feeling got too strong for him--so strong that he determined to go and see if all was well with her. Therefore, ashore he went again, and, making his way up quietly through the glade and the little wood, he came within sight and earshot of the hut. And there he soon found that, no matter how fierce and cruel a nature Alderly's was, he at least meant no harm to the girl herself. She, he could see from the close proximity to the hut which he had attained, was lying asleep upon a low couch on which he had often sat, a couch covered with Osnaburgh cloth and some skins. Alderly was sitting at the table, drinking and smoking and occasionally singing. He had evidently found some liquor of his own--probably stowed away by him ere setting out on his various cruises--and was pouring it out pretty rapidly into the mug he drank from. "Heavens!" exclaimed Reginald. "How the past repeats itself! Here stand I, a Crafer, watching an Alderly in his cups, even as, two hundred years ago, my relative stood here watching this man's. And he sings there as he drinks, even as his rascally forerunner sang, too--the one when his father has not been dead many hours, the other when he had murdered a man! And Barbara,--well, there is Barbara in place of the fancied Barbara the other conjured up. It is the past all over again, in the very same place, almost the very same hour at night. Let us hope that, as all came well with Nicholas afterwards, so it may with me. And with Barbara, too. Yes, with Barbara, too." Whereon, seeing that all was well for the present at any rate, he moved silently away and so regained his boat. CHAPTER XXXIV. JOSEPH ALDERLY. In the morning, when he woke and went on to the deck of his little craft, he saw Barbara standing on the river's brink--evidently waiting for him to be stirring. Therefore, he at once got into his dinghy and went ashore to her. "What is he doing now?" he asked, as he took her hand and noticed for the first time the absence of the splendid flush of health upon her face that was generally there. This morning she had dark purple rings under her eyes--as though she had not slept or had been weeping. "He is asleep now," she said, "after sitting up drinking, singing, and muttering to himself till nearly daybreak. Oh, Mr. Crafer!" she broke off, "what is to be done?" "What does he know?" asked Reginald in return. "Did he hear any of the story I read to you? How long had he been at the window before you noticed him?" "I cannot tell. Yet I think he suspects. Before I went to sleep he asked me what brought you here, and whether you were hunting for the treasure, and also what that paper was you were reading to me?" "And what did you tell him?" "I would not tell a lie, therefore I said it was an account of the island, written by a connection of yours who had been here long ago." "And then?" "And then he said he would like to see it. He said he was sure you would show it to him." "Was he! I am sure I shall do nothing of the kind. Yet I do not know," and Reginald broke off to meditate. Following which he went on again. "But he must see it after all. Barbara, the treasure is his and yours. He must be told." "No, no," she said. "It is not his--it is yours--yours--yours. Oh! it would be wicked, shocking, to think that you, the only person in the world to whom the chance came of finding out where it is hidden, should not be entitled to it, or at least to half of it. And think, too, of the journey you have made, the expense you have been put to, the trouble you have taken. And all for nothing; to get nothing in return." "I have got something in return," he said. "Your friendship! Have I not, Barbara?" "Yes," the girl whispered, or almost whispered, while to her cheeks there came back the rose-blush he loved so much to see. "Yes. But what is that in comparison to what you ought to have?" "Everything," he replied earnestly. "Everything. Far more, perhaps, to me than you think. But now is scarcely the time to tell you how dear that friendship is. Instead, let us think of what is best to be done." "At present," she replied, "I am sure the best thing is to keep the secret. If he knew it was there he would get it up somehow--and, I think, he would go away with it. Then you would get nothing." "But I want nothing." "I don't care," she replied. "I am determined you shall have half. Oh! promise me, promise me you will tell him nothing unless he agrees to give you half." At first he again refused, and still again, but at last he agreed to her request, or at least so far consented that he said he would make a proposal to her brother. He would suggest that, on his being willing to divide whatever they should find into three parts--one for Alderly, one for Barbara, and one for him--he would inform him where he thought the treasure was buried. But that he would take no more than a third he was quite resolved, he told her. "It will be useless," she said, "useless to do that! He will never consent to my having a third; if he did he would take it away from me directly afterwards." "Would he!" exclaimed Reginald. "Would he! I would see about that." "At any rate, he would try to do so. Therefore, it would be far better for you to insist on one half. By taking one third you would only get a lesser share, while he would get more." At last, therefore, Reginald determined he would go and see her brother and, as he said, sound him. Only he was resolved on one thing. Alderly should neither see Nicholas's manuscript nor be told the exact spot where the buried treasure was until they had come to some terms. "And, remember," he said to her, "if I get one half from him, you take from me what represents one third." To which again the girl protested she would never consent. After this they parted, she going back to the hut, and he saying he would follow later, since they resolved it would be best to keep the knowledge of their having met that morning from her brother. When, however, Reginald himself arrived at Alderly's house he found that person gone from it and Barbara alone--standing on the verandah and evidently watching for his coming. "He has gone down to the shore," she said, "to see if he can find anything of poor father's body. At least that is what he says he has gone for, as well as to see if his boat is capable of being repaired. Alas! I fear he thinks more of the boat than of father's death." "If he thinks so much of the boat," Reginald remarked, "it scarcely looks as if he has much idea of there being a large treasure to his hand. However, I will go and see him. Where did he come ashore last night?" "Very near to the Keys," she answered. "Indeed, close by." So Reginald made his way across the island to that spot, and, when he had descended the crags and reached the small piece of beach there, he saw Alderly engaged in inspecting the wrecked craft which had brought him safely back to his island overnight. It had been at its best but a poor crazy thing--a rough-built cutter of about the same size as the _Pompeia_, but very different as regards its fittings and accommodation. It was open-decked, with a wretched cabin aft into which those in her might creep for rest and shelter, and with another one forward--but these were all there was to protect them. "She is badly injured," Reginald said, after having wished Alderly good-morning and received a surly kind of grunt in reply. "I am afraid there is not much to be done to her." "Mister," said Alderly, suddenly desisting from his inspection, and turning round on the other man without taking any notice of his remark, "I am glad you came here this morning. You and I have got to have some talk together, and we can't do it better than here." "Certainly," replied Reginald. "What would you like us to talk about?" "It ain't what I'd _like_ to talk about, but what I am _a-going_ to talk about as you've got to hear. Now, look you here. I ain't no scholar like Barb over there--she was sent to school because the old man was a fool--and I'm a plain man. I've had to earn my living rough--very rough--and p'raps I'm a bit rough myself. But I'm straight--there ain't no man in the islands straighter nor what I am." "Being so straight, perhaps you will go on with what you have to say. Meanwhile, Mr. Alderly, let me be equally straight with you. Your manner is offensive, and, as you say, 'very rough.' Therefore, I may as well tell you that it doesn't intimidate me. We are both sailors, only I happen to have been in a position of command, while your rank, I gather, has been always more or less of a subordinate one. So, if you'll kindly remember that I expect civility, we shall get along very well together." Alderly glanced at him, perhaps calculating the strength of the thews and sinews of so finely built a young man; then he said-- "This is _my_ island, you know, mister, and all that's in it." "Precisely. And you mean that I am in it. Well, so I am. Only, you understand, I can very soon get out of it. The sea isn't yours as well." "Suppose I wasn't to let you go! Suppose I stopped up the mouth of the river where your craft is a-lying! Then you'd be in it still." "Yes," said Reginald, "so I should. Only, all the same, I should go when I pleased. I am not a baby--but, there, this is absurd. Say what you want to say." "Well, I will. What was that paper you was a-reading to my sister in my house last night?" "A little history of this island, which a forerunner of mine happened to visit some two centuries ago." "Two cent'ries ago! Oh! It didn't happen to say anything about the treasure old Simon Alderly had stowed away here, did it?" "Since you ask me so directly, and as it is your business, I will reply at once. It did." For a moment Alderly's face was a sight to see. First the brown of his face turned to a deeper hue, then the colour receded, leaving him almost livid, then slowly the natural colour returned again, and he said, huskily-- "It did, eh? So I thought, though I don't know why the wench, Barb, told me a lie." "Are you sure she did tell you a lie? I don't think your sister seems a person of that sort." "Never mind my sister. Tell me about the treasure--_my_ treasure. I am the heir, you know; I am the only Alderly left after two cent'ries hunting for it--you was right about them cent'ries, mister. Two it was. Where is that treasure? Go on, tell me." "I have not quite made up my mind about doing that," said Reginald. "It remains for me to decide whether I shall do so just yet." "It remains for you to decide whether you will tell me where my property is! It does, does it? And what else?--what do it remain for me to do?" and he advanced so close to Reginald and looked so threatening, both from his angry glances and his great height and build, that many a man might have been cowed. But not such a man as Reginald Crafer! "What do it remain for me to do--eh?" he asked again. "To kill you, p'raps." Reginald's laugh rang out so loud at this that it might have been heard on the Keys outside--the Keys whereon the treasure was. And it made Alderly's fury even greater than before. "I _could_ kill you, mister, easy, if I wanted to. And no one would never know of it except Barb. And if she knowed of it, why, I'd kill her too. Anyhow, I mean to have my fortune." "As to killing," said Reginald, "I don't quite agree with you. You seem to me a powerful kind of a person, without much knowledge, however, of using that power." Here Alderly stamped with fury. "Therefore, you are not so very terrible. However, about _your_ fortune. To begin with, are you quite sure it is yours?" "Why! whose else is it if it ain't mine?" the bully asked, stupidly now. "Ain't this island mine now father's dead?" "You say it is, though I am sure I don't know whether you are telling the truth or not. It might be as much your sister's as yours." Alderly burst out laughing, scornfully this time; but Reginald went on. "Your father might have left a will, you know, leaving her a portion of it, or, indeed, the whole, if he didn't approve of your general behaviour." Alderly laughed again--though now he looked rather white, the other thought; and then he said emphatically:-- "Father didn't leave no papers. So I'm the heir. Girls don't count, I'm told." All of which--both laughter, pallor, and remarks--led Reginald to form a suspicion that whatever papers the elder Alderly might have left had been destroyed. "I think they do," said Reginald, "and certainly Miss Alderly counts in my opinion. For, if eventually I decide to tell you where your treasure is, she will have to have her portion." "She will have her portion," said Alderly decidedly, "which will be that I shall look after her. And I suppose you'll want a portion, too." "Yes, rather," the other replied, remembering that he had promised to make no stipulations about Barbara. So he corrected himself now, and said, "Of course I suppose you will look after her. Well, remembering that, I shall want one half." "One half!" exclaimed Alderly, almost shouting out the words in his excitement. "One half! My God! One half of all that treasure! Just for coming here to tell me where it is! Why! you must be mad, Mr. Crafer, or whatever you call yourself. Mad! Mad! Why! sooner than do that I'd fetch a hundred o' my pals and mates from all around, from the islands and up from Aspinwall and Colon, and dig the whole place up till we found it. One half!" "And dig the whole place up!" repeated Reginald. "Just so. Only, you know that when your ancestress, the first Barbara, and her son came here they found the treasure had been removed from the place where Simon left it, and none have ever been able to find it since. Isn't that so?" "Yes," muttered Alderly, "it is, damn you!" "Very well. You don't own all the islands round, of which there are some scores, inhabited and uninhabited. And, presuming that the treasure in question has been moved to one of these--and there is no one knows whether it has or not but myself" (he determined not to bring Barbara in further than was necessary)--"what good would all the digging of you and your 'pals and mates' do in this place, Mr. Alderly?" To which the other could only answer by a muttered curse. CHAPTER XXXV. DANGER IMPENDING. Alderly was now at bay! For a couple of days he raved, stormed, and alternately endeavoured to extract from Reginald and from his sister a hint as to which of the islands the treasure had been removed to. But it was all of no avail. Barbara, whose gentle nature had conceived almost a hatred against her unnatural brother for the utter indifference he had shown to their father's fate, avoided him as much as she could, and, when not able to do so, refused to acknowledge that she knew anything more than that Mr. Crater possessed the secret of the hidden store. While, as for Reginald, he simply said, whenever Alderly sought him out--which the latter did frequently, since the other would go no more to his hut,--"One half is what I want if we dig it up together." But to Alderly, who among all his other bad qualities possessed that of inordinate greed, this proposal appeared so enormous that he could not bring himself to consent to it. "And if we don't dig it up together," said Reginald, who had not the slightest compunction in playing on the fears and covetousness of the man, "why, I shall have to dig it up by myself--which you cannot prevent my doing if it is not on your property, you know. Then I shall take it all, except what I hand over to some lawyer, or English representative, in one of the islands for your sister's use." "But it is mine, mine alone!" the infuriated wretch would exclaim. "Mine, even if it is outside Coffin Island. Simon was my relative, and he found it." "And Nicholas Crafer was mine," replied the other, "and he found it, too. It belonged to him as much as to Simon, and, what's more, the secret belongs to me and not to you. And as you are a card player and a 'sportsman,' Mr. Alderly, you'll understand what a strong card that is in my favour." It was so strong a card that Alderly acknowledged to himself in his own phraseology that "he was beat." That is, he was "beat" by fair means, and, being a brute and a savage in whose nature there seemed to run all the worst strains of his ancestor, Simon, he soon took to turning over in his mind how he could win by means that were foul. And on how these means could be brought about he pondered deeply, roaming round the island as he did so, Barbara's gun under his arm with which to shoot, now and again, a gull or some other equally harmless or useless bird; or sitting on the crags, or the beach when the tide was out, thinking ever. And what he thought about more than anything else was, "How could he obtain possession of that paper which he had seen in Grafer's hand?" For in that paper lay the secret, he felt sure, of the spot to which the treasure, _his_ treasure, had been removed. It may be told here that, although he had been outside the jalousie on the night of the storm which drove him home, and his father to his doom, for longer than either Barbara or Reginald knew, he had gleaned but a very imperfect knowledge of what the latter had read out. Some words he had caught, such as "when you have taken your first measurement from the spot where you land, you stick in the ground your sword, and then make, or persevere until you make, all your other strides correspond with what I have wrote down." Yet this told nothing. He had not heard nor caught the mention of the Keys, therefore the measurement might apply to any of the scores of little islands in the Virgin Archipelago. Also he had heard Reginald read out from his papers, "now here is a little map, rough as befits a drawing made by me, yet just and true." But of what use was this map--unless he could set eyes on it! Ah! that was it. If he could set eyes on it! He had heard other sentences, too; a portion of the conclusion of Nicholas Crafer's narrative, but they would not piece together into one explicit whole. He was, indeed, at bay. He knew the treasure had been moved somewhere, and he knew that, in the possession of this fellow who was now in that gimcrack yacht in the river, was a description of where the treasure was, as well as a map showing the spot; but he knew no more. And as he thought it all over, sitting upon a crag, he ground his large white teeth and beat the rock beneath him with the butt of Barbara's gun in his rage. But, at last, it seemed that he had made up his mind, had resolved upon his plan; for with a smothered oath--the use of which expletives he was very frequent in--he sprang to his feet, while he muttered to himself-- "One half! One half! Ho! Ho! No! Not one half, not one shilling, not one red cent." As he rose, there came across the little grassy plateau behind the crag his sister, Barbara. For a moment she paused and glanced at him, and, perhaps because she knew him so well and had studied all his evil moods from infancy, she observed something in his face more evil, more threatening than usual. Then she said-- "I want my gun." "What for?" "There are some large parrots come across from Anegada. You said you wanted some for your supper when next a flock came. See, there are two in the gros-gros down there. Give me the gun," and taking it from his hand, she cocked it and aimed at the two birds in the palm-tree half-way down the cliff. "What is the use?" he said roughly. "They will fall into the sea below and we can never get them, it is too deep." But ere he could say more she fired, missing her mark, if, indeed, she had aimed at it. Then she uttered an exclamation and dropped the gun, letting it fall a hundred and fifty feet below into the deep sea. "You fool!" he said, "you infernal fool!" And he looked as though he were going to strike her for her carelessness. "You fool! it was the only firearm we had in the island, and now you have let it go where we can never get it back. Barbara, a beating would do you good. I have a mind to give you one or fling you over the cliff after it." "It kicked," she said, "and hurt me. And, after all, it doesn't matter much. It was old and scarcely ever shot straight. I could do nothing with it." "I could, though," he replied, still scowling at her. "It would shoot what I wanted. That was good enough for me." And Barbara, as she looked him straight in the eyes, said inwardly to herself-- "I know it would shoot what _you_ wanted. That is why it will never shoot again." He changed the subject after grumbling at and abusing her for some time longer, and said-- "Where's that fellow now, that admirer of yours? I haven't seen him to-day." "I saw his yacht go out two or three hours ago," she said, treating the remark about Reginald's admiration with infinite contempt--as of late she had treated most of his speeches. "I suppose he has gone for a sail. Or, perhaps, over to Tortola or Anegada to buy himself some food. Since you will not show him much civility, I suppose he does not want to be beholden to you for even so much as a mango or a shaddock." "I've a mind to put a chain across the river's mouth and stop him ever coming into the river again." But while he spoke he started at a thought that came into his mind, and said-- "My God! Suppose he is gone to the island where he knows the treasure was removed to! Suppose that! And to dig it up and be off with it. Barbara!" he almost shrieked, "which is that island--where is it?" "Offer him the fair half he requires," she said, "and find out. That's the best thing you can do." People who live in civilised places do not often see a man with the temper of a wild beast exhibit that temper. There are many men with such tempers, it is true, in the most enlightened and refined spots; but their surroundings force them into some sort of decency, however much they may be raging inwardly. Here, in Coffin Island, civilisation was, if not nonexistent, at least at a discount, and Joseph Alderly, who had the disposition of a tiger without the tiger's redeeming quality--love for its own kind--gave way at Barbara's last remark to such a tempest of fury as would have disgraced that animal. He rushed at his sister, howling, cursing and blaspheming, with the evident intention of hurling her over the cliff, which she--agile as a deer--avoided, so that had he not thrown himself down violently, he must have gone over instead; and then he gave his vile infirmity full swing. Curses on her, on Crafer, even on himself, poured from his mouth; he dug his heels into the earth and kicked stones and, pebbles away from him as though they were living creatures which could feel his fury; and all the time he interlarded his blasphemy with such remarks as, "It is mine, mine, mine. I will have it, even though I cut his throat. Mine! mine! mine! One half--my God! One half!" Thus the savage exhibited his temper without restraint; it was his only manner of doing so. Had he been an English gentleman, he would probably have had just the same temper, only it would have taken a different shape. He would have browbeaten his wife or female kin, have bullied his servants, and probably kicked his dog. And then, as Alderly soon did, he would have calmed down, feeling much relieved! Barbara waited until at last he seemed quieter--regarding him with scorn, though not surprise, since she knew his disposition--when she said: "I don't think you understand Mr. Crafer. Like all his countrymen he can be very firm, I imagine, and like all English sailors"--and there was a perceptible accentuation of the word "English"--"he seems very brave. You won't frighten him." He still muttered and mumbled to himself--though it seemed to her he was meditating something all through the end of his paroxysm--and at last he said: "When is he coming back? I suppose you know." "How should I know, and why should he come back? Your welcome has not been very warm, and, as you say, he may have gone to the other island where the treasure has been removed to." Again at this, to him, awful suggestion, it seemed as if his brutal fury was going to break out once more, but this time, by an effort that was no doubt terrific, he calmed himself and was contented to exclaim: "I don't believe that! If he came to fetch it away, why didn't he do so before now? There was no one to interfere with him. You may depend it's all a lie--the treasure's here in my island, and he hasn't dug it up because he couldn't. He was afraid of you before I came back." "My admirer--and afraid of me! Well!" exclaimed Barbara, with a different note of scorn in her voice now. "Or he was playing at being your admirer to throw dust in your eyes and get away with it all somehow." Here Barbara shrugged her shoulders; but even that significant gesture was allowed to pass also without an explosion. He was calming himself, taming himself, she saw plainly, and she guessed at once that he had a reason for what he did. What was that reason? She resolved to know. "I suppose I must yield," he said, with a strange look in his eyes. "Barbara, we must give in. You go and see him and tell him I'll go halves. Though it's a cruel shame, a wicked shame." "Is it? I don't think so. He came all the way from England to get it all for himself, and it was only when he found that there were descendants of Simon on the island that he resolved to give it--to share it!" she corrected herself. "Well, we must do it. But to think of his taking half away! When will he come back?" "I tell you I don't know." Her brother again plunged into meditation. Then he said: "You go down to the mouth of the river and watch till he comes in. You can talk to him better than I can--you're what they call a lady, I suppose. At any rate, you're edycated. Then tell him what I say--that I'll give in and go shares--that is, if you can't wheedle him into taking less. You're a fine-looking girl, Barbara, as good a looking girl as ever I've seen in Jamaica or Darien, or even up to New York; if you played your cards right we could get the lot out of him." The girl shrank away from him with such a look of disgust--for the odious leer upon his face told her quite as plainly as his words did, if not more so, what he meant--that he refrained from continuing. Whatever plot he was maturing--and he was maturing a deep-laid one--he saw that this was not the way to work it. Therefore he continued his instructions. "Go down and meet him when he comes in. It will be to-night when the tide sets here from Tortola. Then come home and tell me. And to-morrow--" he said the word "to-morrow" slowly, and with a sound in his voice that roused her--"to-morrow, if he's willing, we'll get to work. Now go." She turned on her heel without a word beyond saying "Very well," and in a moment she was gone, her lithe form disappearing instantly amongst the bamboos and Spanish bayonets, the poinsettias and begonias, that grew up close to the plateau And beyond the chattering of the aroused _vert-verts_ and _Qu'est-ce qu'il dit's_, there was nothing to show that she had set out upon her errand. He, the savage owner of that beautiful island, sat exactly where he had been sitting so long, still muttering to himself, laughing once or twice, and repeating over and over again the words, "To-morrow, to-morrow." And as he did so, a pleasing vision came before his eyes, and only once it was marred--by what seemed to be a great wave of blood passing before them. Otherwise, it showed him all that could gladden such a heart as his. A southern gambling-hell with the tables piled with gold, all of which he was winning for himself by the aid of the vast capital he possessed. A gambling-hell with the lights turned down low for coolness, and with iced drinks being passed about to all therein; a place through which the sound of soft music was borne, in which fair-haired women caressed him, and made much of him. Then, next, he saw a verdant hill above a summer sea, a villa with marble steps and corridors; outside, the splashing of fountains amidst the palms around them. And still the golden-haired women were ever present, contending with each other for his favours--his, the wealthiest man in those tropic regions! That was the vision he saw, before rising and going slowly down the path that led to the beach where his patched-up cutter was moored. CHAPTER XXXVI. BEWARE! The girl went on her mission willingly enough--indeed, had her brother not ordered her to go and watch for the return of Reginald, she had quite determined in her own mind some time before to seek him out, and to wait for his coming back. For she, who had observed Joseph carefully all her lifetime, could read his nature as easily as a book; she knew what those tempests of fury, followed by an enforced self-subduing, meant. Above all, she knew what the sudden determination on his part to share the treasure--or the appearance of sudden determination--meant also. It meant either trickery, or violence, or murder. Most probably the latter! His greed for money to squander on himself had always been great, even from boyhood. In those days, and before he could earn anything for himself, he would rob his father of small sums, pilfering them from his pocket when he slept, or from places where he kept his earnings; later on, if a goat or a sheep were taken by him to Tortola and sold, there would be always some dispute about the price obtained, always something missing. And when he was a man the scenes between him and his father, the fights and the ill-treatment to which old Alderly was subjected, were sufficient to make him stand forth in very distinct characters. Therefore, she knew that he intended something now against Reginald Crafer--she felt perfectly sure that never would her brother allow the latter to become possessed of one-half of whatever buried treasure there might be. What his exact intentions were she could not, of course, make sure. It might be that he meant to watch him, until, in some way, the spot where the treasure was should be revealed, when, by some trickery, Joseph would manage to secure it all; it might be that he had resolved to do the worst and slay him. For, if he could do that, then he would become possessed of the papers which told where the treasure was, and, since he was able to read enough, she thought, to decipher even the crabbed, indistinct characters in the writing, as she had seen them to be, to thus possess himself of all. And she knew, too, that whatever Joseph did would be done by stealth and craft--the only way in which he ever worked when not consumed by his passion--and, therefore, he was doubly to be suspected and guarded against. All through the warm tropical afternoon she sat on by the bank of the river; it was the very spot, as she knew, or thought she knew, where two centuries ago Simon Alderly had slain the diver--thinking always, and taking no heed of all the multitudinous animal life around her. The humming-birds hovered in front of her, bright specks of gorgeous colour; the butterflies, representing in their brilliant bodies every known hue, flitted backwards and forwards; sometimes a monkey peered at her with wide-open eyes from moriche and bamboo, and insects of numerous varieties crept about the bush-ropes and the fan-palms, while all around her was the warmth and perfume of the tropics. Yet she heeded none of these things. They were the accompaniments of the whole of her young existence, and--even had they not been--she would not now have noticed them. Her thoughts were intent on the saving of a human life--a life she had come to love, the life of the handsome Englishman who had journeyed from far-off England to her lonely, desolate home. Presently she knew that night was at hand, that it was coming swiftly. The atmosphere was all suffused by a rich saffron hue, into which the crimson tints of the sun and the blue of the heavens were being absorbed; the sun itself was sinking over the mount behind her; even the air was cooling and becoming fresher. "If he would only come," she whispered to herself; "if he would only come before night falls." And then she resolved to go to the mouth of the river and look for him. To do so meant that she must force her way through a hundred yards of undergrowth of cacti and all kinds of clinging creepers; yet she was so anxious to see him and to warn him of the danger in which, she felt sure, he would stand on his return, that she did not hesitate a moment. Therefore she plunged bodily in amongst the luxuriant vegetation, and, after a considerable amount of struggling and a numerous quantity of scratches received, stood at last upon the beach, gazing almost south towards Tortola. And soon she saw that he was coming back--as she had never doubted he would come: he had not parted from her in a manner that meant a last farewell!--he was very near the island now, not a quarter of a mile away. Presently he, too, saw her standing there regarding him, and, as he did so, took his handkerchief from his pocket and waved it to her. And five minutes later the _Pompeia_ passed in between the river banks, so that they could speak to each other. "Why! how did you get through the undergrowth, Barbara?" he asked, astonished to see her on the beach, which, from the landing path, was almost inaccessible. "I wanted to see if you were coming back," she answered, "and so forced my way." "Wait till I have anchored opposite the path," he said, "and I will come back with the dinghy and bring you off." And so he passed on to the usual place where he moored the yacht--simply because the path from the hut to the river came down opposite--and then, anchoring, he got into the dinghy and went to fetch her. "Shall I put you ashore," he asked, "or will you come on board?" "On board," she said; "we can talk better there. Ashore there may be ears hidden behind any palm or under any bush. Take me on board." He looked at her with one swift glance, wondering what could have happened now, but he said nothing; and after a few strokes they stood on the deck of his little craft. Then he brought her a tiny deck-chair and bade her be seated, while he leaned against the gunwale by her side. "What is it, Barbara?" he asked, looking down at her. "What is it now?" "I do not know," she said, speaking very low and casting glances over to the bank of the river, as though doubting whether that other one might not be hidden somewhere beneath the thick foliage of the shore. "Yet, Mr. Crafer, I fear." "For what?" "For you. He is meditating something. I am sure of it. He has bidden me come to you and say that, to-morrow, he will agree to share the treasure with you if you will show him where it is. No," she went on, seeing a smile appear upon Reginald's face, "no, it is not so simple an ending as you think. I am certain--I feel positively sure from what I know of him--that he means to do nothing of the kind." "Then why the suggestion?" he asked. "What is the use of it?" "To gain time, to have the night in which to think over and work out some scheme. Perhaps," she said, leaning a little forward to him in her earnestness, so that, even in the now swift-coming darkness, he could see her large starry eyes quite clearly, "to have the night in which to attempt some injury to you. Oh! Mr. Crafer, for God's sake be on your guard. You do not know him as I do." "Have no fear," he said, touching her hand gently, as though in thanks for her warning, "have no fear. Yet I will be careful. But what can he do to-night, even if he wished to do harm? I am as safe here in this little yacht as in a castle." "You do not know. With him one can never tell what he is thinking of doing--what his designs are. His life has been terribly rough, and he has lived among lawless people and in lawless places. And his desire for wealth is such that, knowing your life is the only thing that stands between him and a great sum of money, as he believes, he would hesitate at nothing. No! Not even at taking that life." Then she told him of the incident of the gun, and how she had let it fall into the sea so as to put it--the only firearm in the place--out of harm's way. He thanked her again for this precaution for his safety, and then she said that she must go. It was dark now, and doubtless her brother would be waiting for Reginald's answer, since she thought it very probable that he was quite as well aware that the _Pompeia_ was once again anchored in the river as she was herself. "Heaven bless you, Barbara, for your kindly, generous nature, and, above all, for your thought for me," Reginald exclaimed. "That I shall remember it always you cannot doubt. And be sure I will be very careful, even here, aboard. Though I do not see what he can do. Our old friend, Simon, would have attacked Nicholas openly if the circumstances had been similar, and they would have fought it out to the grim death. Your brother can't do that, and--short of an open fight in the river--he can do nothing. Therefore, Barbara, have no fear for me. And I am armed, too. See!" and with a smile he showed her a neat little revolver--one of Webley's New Express--a powerful weapon, though light and handy. "God grant it may not come to that!" she answered, with a shudder. "Bad as he is, it would break my heart if he should die at your hands." "It shall not come to that," Reginald replied. "I only showed it to you to ease your mind. And you may be sure that since he has no firearms I would not use one on him." Then, as he put her ashore in the dinghy he said that, of course, she would tell her brother that he was willing to come to terms. "That is," he explained, "to go halves. Which halves mean that I am looking after your interests, you know, and----" "Pray, pray," she interposed, "do not let us even think of such things now. If I have misjudged him, as I hope most earnestly I have, then there will be time to talk about shares and so forth. If I have read him aright----" but here she broke off with a little shiver, and, holding out her hand to him as they stood on the river's brink, wished him "Good-night." "Good-night!" he exclaimed. "Good-night! Why, surely, I may accompany you part of the way at least? I always do so when we are any distance from your home." "No," she answered, "no. Go back at once to your yacht. At once, I say, and get on board her. Oh! if you did but know the terror I am in for your safety." "Barbara!" he exclaimed. "Barbara! Why! it is a dream, a fantasy----" "No," she said, "no. It is no dream, no fantasy. For my sake, for my sake, I beseech you--go back and make yourself secure. Believe me, I know him!" and she turned as though to run up the slight ascent. "For your sake, then, I will," he said. "For your sake. We will meet to-morrow. Good-night, Barbara." Then he suddenly asked, anxiously--"But you--there is no danger to you?" "No! no! Good-night," she said, "God keep you. Oh! this dread is terrible," and then, giving him a sign to go without further loss of time, she sped up the path. He did not share at all in Barbara's dread of her brother, perhaps because he was a man, and, perhaps, also, because he had not been used to witnessing years of violence on that brother's part; indeed, he believed her terrors to be purely feminine--the terrors that many women feel in all parts of the world for that worst of despots, the domestic tyrant. But being neither vain nor conceited, he did not for one moment associate those terrors with any regard she had allowed herself to conceive for him, nor, thereby, make allowances for them in that way. Indeed, he had very little idea that she regarded him as anything more than a stranger, who, by the peculiar knowledge he possessed of the buried wealth, was far more interesting than the few tourists were who sometimes visited Coffin Island. Yet he forgot she allowed him to call her Barbara, while always herself addressing him with formality. He was not, however, so foolhardy as to neglect a caution given him by one who was not only interested in him but, also, thoroughly well acquainted with the scheming and violently dangerous nature of Joseph Alderly. He therefore, on regaining the deck of the _Pompeia_, took such precautions as were possible. He drew up the little dinghy from the water and placed it on the deck parallel with the port side, and, when he entered his cabin, he was careful to leave the door open so that any outside sounds from either the river or the banks would be plainly heard. Then--since there was no more to be done--he went into the cabin and, mixing himself some whisky and water, prepared to watch as long as he could keep his eyes open, making one sacrifice to the supposed necessity for a caution in so far that he decided not to lie down during the night. "There is nothing else to do," he reflected; "hardly any danger to ward off. He can't make such an attack on me as I suggested his ancestor, Simon, would very likely have done, and there is no other way possible, for he cannot get on board without my knowing it, and, if he could, I am as good a man as he!" Yet still he determined to watch carefully until at least the dawn had come; for then would be sufficient time to begin considering how he should meet Alderly and arrange for digging up the buried treasure. CHAPTER XXXVII. "AND DEATH THE END OF ALL." It was a particularly dark night and all was very calm. The moon did not top the eastern bank of the river until long past midnight, and the stars gave but little light. Also, the silence was extreme. Sometimes, it is true, he could hear the rustling of birds and small animals in the luxuriant vegetation on either bank, or catch the whisper of the soft night breezes among the _gros-gros_, the moriches, and the great leaves of the green bananas; but that was all. And sparkling all around him, as they whirled in their evolutions, were the myriads of fireflies that make every tropical acre of ground look like an illuminated garden; but, beyond these and the dim stars above the opening between the two banks, there was nothing else to be seen. Even the great trunks of the trees were shrouded in gloom, and seemed nothing but dense patches on the sombre background. Reginald sat on in his cabin, his pipe in his mouth, his tumbler by his side, the portholes and the door open for coolness and also for precaution's sake. And on the table upon which he leant his elbows there lay the revolver. He had promised, voluntarily promised Barbara, he would not use the weapon upon her brother, who had none; yet he did not know but that, should a crisis come, he might have occasion to do so. If Alderly were the scheming scoundrel the unhappy girl believed him to be, then it was by no means unlikely that he, too, might possess, secretly, a similar pistol which he had carefully kept her in ignorance of. Or, since he was so big and powerful, if by any chance he could board the _Pompeia_--as he might do by swimming from one of the banks--it might come to a hand-to-hand fight, in which Alderly would possibly be armed with other weapons, and thereby force Reginald to use his own. But he was resolved there should be no use of it unless absolutely necessary. "How quiet it all is," he meditated, as he sat there, "how undisturbed. Surely Barbara had no need for fear on my account! Why, Nicholas could hardly have been more secure when he had the island all to himself after Simon Alderly's death, than I am now." And this thought set his mind off into another train, a reflection of the similarity there was between him and his kinsman, and between their actions in this spot--in spite of two hundred years having rolled away. "Nicholas had his galliot anchored here," he thought; "perhaps in the very spot where I am now. He, too, used the path up to the hut--not far away from here the Snow was sunk--and--and--and----" He gave a start and shook himself. He had nearly fallen asleep! He was very tired, for the day had been a long one, what with sailing back from Tortola--to which he had gone, as Barbara surmised, to purchase provisions--and his having been now awake and on the stretch for more than eighteen hours. Therefore, to try and arouse himself, he went on to the deck of the _Pompeia_, and inhaled the fresh night air as he peered all around. But there was nothing to be seen, nothing. Nor, had there been anything out of the ordinary, could he have seen it. The darkness was intense. He sat down again on the locker which ran round the cabin and formed a seat, sitting bolt upright this time to prevent sleep coming upon him, though all the while he kept telling himself that such precaution was unnecessary. Alderly was safe asleep in his own house, he felt sure, or was sitting up drinking and carousing by himself, as, so Barbara told him, was always his habit. He would sit and drink, she had said, and smoke, and as often as not play a game of cards by himself with an imaginary opponent, and go on doing so far into the night. Then, when at last he was exhausted and could drink no more, he would roll off his chair on to the floor, and so lie there and sleep off his nightly debauch. He was doubtless doing that now. As Reginald pondered thus, he again let his elbows rest on the table and put his head in his hands. "The air is so hot!" he murmured, unloosing his flannel shirt-collar as he did so, "so hot! And--there--is--no--danger. Yet I promised her," again rousing himself, "yet--yet--Alderly stabbed the diver--if he had had a revolver--in the casket--Barbara----" He was asleep. Asleep peacefully, though wearily, worn out with his long day; and presently there was no noise in all the tranquil night but the sound of his regular breathing, and the ripple of the little river against the bows of the _Pompeia_, as it flowed down to the sea. Yet once he started from his slumbers, hearing in them, as he thought, a distant shriek, and hastily went on deck, wondering if aught could have befallen the girl up at the hut, but only to find that it was some night bird that had alarmed him. For in the woods, away up towards where the Alderlys dwelt, he could hear the macaws chattering--the birds which occasionally passed from one island to another--and an owl hooting. "It is nothing," he said wearily, "nothing. My nerves are overstrung--I have heard such sounds often at night since I have been here. It is nothing. They are fast asleep enough up there. And--and--I need watch no longer." So, utterly overcome now by the desire for slumber that had seized upon him, and not more than half awakened even by the visit to the deck, he stretched himself out at full length on the locker to get an hour or so of rest. Yet he was careful to place the revolver near to his hand. It wanted still an hour to the time when the moon would be above the fronds of the tallest palms on the eastern bank--a time at which even all the insect life of the island seemed at last to be hushed to rest--when, to the ripple of the river and its soft lap against the yacht's forefoot, was added another sound--the sound, subdued, it is true, yet still one that would have been perceptible to anyone who was awake in that yacht--of something disturbing, something passing through the waters; but, had the sleeper awakened to hear it, he could have seen nothing. All was still too dark, too profound. But he himself was seen--seen by a pair of gleaming eyes staring at him through the cabin window, the blinds of which had not been drawn, nor the latchwork closed; a pair of eyes that glistened from out a face over which the hair, all dank and matted with water, curled in masses. The face of Joseph Alderly! Presently an arm came through the cabin window, an arm long, bare, and muscular, the hand stretched to its fullest length, the fingers sinuous as all powerful fingers are, and striving to reach the pistol on the table, across the body of the sleeping man. Yet soon they desisted; they were half a foot off where the weapon lay; any effort to project more of that arm into the cabin would almost certainly awake the sleeper. So arm and hand were withdrawn, and again the evil face of Alderly gazed down upon Reginald Crafer. Once, too, the hand that had failed in its endeavour sought its owner's breast pocket, and drew forth a long glittering knife; once through the open window it raised that knife over the other's throat--all open and bare as it was!--and then the hand was drawn back, the face and arm were withdrawn; the villain had disappeared. And still Reginald slept on, unknowing how near to death he had been, how near to having the shining weapon driven through his throat. Slept on and heard nothing. Slept on while the lamp hanging in the cabin burnt itself out--he had not fed and trimmed it overnight--and until, above, through the fan-like leaves of palm, bamboo, and cyclanthus, there stole a ray of moonlight that shone down directly on the sleeping man's features. Half an hour later he began to turn restlessly, to mutter to himself--perhaps it was the flooding of the rays of the now fully uprisen moon upon his face that was awaking him--and, gradually, to return to the knowledge of where he was. Yet still he could not for a moment understand matters--the lamp was burning brightly when he went to sleep, and all was dark as pitch outside; now the cabin was illuminated by the moon, and all outside was light. Then he recognised he had been asleep, and also that he was in his yacht. He turned round to get up and go on deck to see if day was breaking, and, as he did so and put his feet to the cabin floor, he started. It was covered with water--water a foot deep--half up to his knees. Looking down, he perceived it shining in the rays of the moon as a large body of water always shines beneath those rays. "Heavens!" he exclaimed, "she is filling, sinking! She will not float another ten minutes; the water is almost flush with her deck already." And he rushed to the cabin door. He had left that door open ere he slept, he felt positive. Now it was shut. "She has listed a bit, perhaps," was the first thought that came to his mind. Yet in another moment that idea was dispelled. The _Pompeia_ was sinking on as even a keel as did ever any water-logged boat; there was no list in her. Then, almost feeling sure of what he would discover a moment later, he tried to open the door. _It was fast_. "I knew it," he muttered through his teeth, as he shook and banged at the door--there was no time to be wasted; even now the water was on a level with the top of the locker on which he had lately slept; a few more minutes and the yacht must sink--"I knew it. It is the whole history over again. Phips was locked in his cabin--damn the door and he who closed it!--and I am locked in here to sink with the boat and be drowned like a rat. There's no chance--a child could scarcely escape through those windows! Oh! Joseph Alderly, if I ever----" He stopped. Across the stream, from down by the mouth of it, there came the most awful, blood-curdling cry he had ever heard, the death cry of one who knew he was uttering his last shriek, knew that his doom was fixed. A horrid shriek, followed by the words, "Help! help!"--and then silence--dense as before. "Ay! call for help," muttered Reginald. "Whoever you are, you do not want it more than I. Another five minutes and the end will have come." He looked round the cabin in hope of some means of escape presenting themselves, and his eyes lighted on the revolver. Then he knew that, if he were but accorded time, only a few moments, he might get free. But more than two or three such moments would not be his; the water was nearly to his waist now. Once, twice, thrice, the report of the pistol rang out from that doomed yacht, each shot shattering the lock and panels; and then one sturdy push was sufficient to force the door open against the water, and for him to be standing half in the river, half out; and at that instant he felt a heaving beneath his feet, he felt he was sinking to his shoulders, that he was swimming with nothing beneath him any longer. The yacht was gone; he had not been a minute too soon! The current was strong--the river being swollen with the recent rains--and it bore him downwards to the mouth, he not struggling against it, as he knew very well that he could easily land on the sea-beach outside. So he went with the tide until gradually he reached the outlet, and there he saw a sight that might well affright him, even after what he had gone through. He saw the face of Alderly on the waters, an awful look of fear in the wide-open eyes, and the jaws tightly clenched, but with the lips drawn back from the white teeth on which the moon's rays glistened. And he saw that he was dead. "My God!" he exclaimed. "How has he died?" And as he so pondered he swam towards the villain, whose head bobbed about on the water as though there were no limbs, nor even trunk, beneath. But all the time as it turned round and round the eyes gleamed with a horrible light under the moon, and the great strong teeth glistened behind the drawn lips. Another moment, and he knew how Alderly had died. The water in which he swam towards him tasted salter than sea-water as it touched his lips, and its clearness was discoloured--crimson! And even as Reginald seized the head of the now limbless trunk and towed it to the bank, striking out with all his power for fear of a similar dreadful fate befalling him--which was probable enough, since the shark is, like the tiger, eager for more when once its taste is whetted--he thought to himself: "Out of the depths, out of the depths the past rises again and again." Then, sweating with fear, he gave one last masterful side-stroke and landed safely on the shingle, dragging his gory burden after him. CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE OWNER OF THE TREASURE. The white shark--for such it is which is the most terrible in these regions--that had taken both Alderly's legs off above the knee, so that he must have soon bled to death, had doubtless done so while his intended victim was escaping from the trap he had set for Reginald. Each bite--for the brute must have given two--was as clean as though the limbs had been snipped-off by a pair of blunt scissors, and, as Reginald regarded the mangled trunk in the moonlight, he could not but thank his Maker that he had not been the next victim, for he recognised how narrow his own escape was. His experience as a sailor told him that where the sharks have found one prey they will, sometimes for weeks, hover about in expectation of another, and he could only wonder--while his wonder was tinged with devout gratitude--why he should not also by now be torn in half. As he dragged the body up the slope of the shingle, meaning to cover it over with palm leaves until Barbara had seen the face--the lower part she must not be allowed to see--and then to bury it, a bundle of papers fell out of the pocket of the dead man's rough shirt, which he picked up and put in his own. It must be handed to Barbara, he reflected, who was now the last of the Alderlys, and consequently the heiress to all the wealth of the Key! "Which is," reflected Reginald, "the very best thing that could possibly have happened. She will now be able to lead the life so beautiful a woman ought to lead, a life which she by her education and womanly ideas is fitted to lead. For her, nothing could be better than Alderly's death." Yet, when he thought of her inexperience--had she not believed that Trinidad was the world!--and of how she was all alone now without kith or kin, he could not but wonder what would become of her. "At least," he pondered, "I pray she may fall into the hands of no such an adventurer as this," and he glanced at Alderly's mangled body. "That would be too awful. Better anything than that, even to finding her fortune gone when we dig up the Key. Though that would be a strange climax, too, to all that has taken place. Gone! great heavens, what an idea! To think of it! To think that when we go to unearth it we may discover there is nothing to be got. The very thought makes my blood run cold. But--bah! it is nonsense. It must be there!" His blood was running cold, though not from this idea which had come into his mind, but from the wetting he had received. Therefore, as soon as the sun burst upon the island once more, he stripped himself of his clothes, and, laying them out to dry, proceeded to dry himself also by the old-fashioned method of running up and down the beach. Then, when but a short exposure of his garments to the sun had sufficed to render them once more wearable, he put them on again and set out for Barbara's home. "Though," he said to himself, "it is no easy task to break such news to her. Alderly was not kind to her, and she knew his failings and despised him--yet he was her brother, and his death was awful. But it must be told." He made his way with the usual difficulty through all the entanglement of the luxuriant vegetation that grew down to the beach, and at last reached the path leading to the hut. Indeed, he was eager to get there in spite of the fact that he had such dismal news to break to Barbara, since he was somewhat surprised that he had neither seen nor heard anything of her now. He had almost feared to denude himself of his clothes at daybreak, thinking that at any moment the girl might come down to him--it being her custom to rise at that time--and when an hour had passed, as it had now done, he was still more astonished at not seeing her. She must know by now that her brother was not in his house; she must, have known long ago that he had not sat up carousing far into the night as was his habit. Where was she? What could have happened? His fears became intensified as her house came into sight. For he soon perceived that the jalousies were not opened, and that the door on the verandah was closed--a thing he had never known before to be the case, from daybreak until late night--nay, worse, more appalling than all to him, was to see that behind the slats of the jalousie of the front room there was a light burning--the light of the lamp that stood always on the table in the middle of the living-room. Springing up the wooden steps leading to the verandah, he rattled the slats in great agitation, and called loudly, "Barbara! Barbara, are you there?" a summons which, he thanked Heaven, instantly produced a reply. He heard the bark of her dog, who knew him well now; but no answer came from her. Unable to bear any further suspense, fearing the worst, namely, that her brother had murdered her before he set forth on his attempt to do as much for him, and remembering--fool that he was, as he called himself!--the shriek he had heard in the night and attributed to some of the disturbed denizens of the island, he tore the jalousie aside and entered the general room. And then he knew why Barbara had not come to seek him at daybreak as was her wont. She was lying on the lounge, or rude sofa, her hands bound in front of her, her feet tied together, and in her mouth a rude gag made of a coarse pocket-handkerchief. By her side was the dog, moaning and whimpering, but making, when he entered, an attempt to jump up and fondle him. It also was tied, to the foot of the couch. "Oh! Barbara!" he exclaimed, rushing forward to her, while he saw with infinite thanks that her eyes were open, and that she seemed to have suffered no further brutality than being made a prisoner of. "Oh! Barbara! that he should have treated you so!" Then in a moment he had taken the gag from her mouth and had set her free, while all the time he was speaking kindly and considerately to her, and pitying her for having been so treated. And her first words were: "Thank God, you are alive! I have been picturing you to myself for hours as dead. Did he not try to kill you?" "Yes, Barbara," he said, after a moment's pause, almost dreading to tell her the tale, yet recognising that he must do so. "Yes, he tried to kill me." "How?" "By drowning. He must have bored some holes in the yacht unknown to me, when I slept. Oh! Barbara! I know I promised to keep careful watch, yet I was so tired, and at last I fell asleep. When I awoke the yacht was full of water--was sinking. Then----" he hesitated to tell her of how he had been locked in the cabin--"I--I escaped--I swam for my life." "And he?" she asked faintly, almost in a whisper. "What of him?" "He is dead." "Ah! yes," she replied, with a shiver. "I know. I heard the report of your revolver. Then I knew all. Oh! how I wish he had not died at your hands!" "He did not die at my hands, Barbara. He was dr----; he died in the water." "Tell me all," she said, still faintly. "Tell me all." Therefore he told her the whole of the dreadful story, omitting only the most blackening act, the double treachery and attempt of Alderly to take his life without giving him one chance of escape. "I never thought to see you again," she whispered, when his recital was finished. "Never, never. For," she went on, telling now her experiences, "I knew by midnight that what I had dreaded he would attempt was about to take place. At that hour he left off drinking, having taken much less than was usual all the evening, and rising he went to the cupboard, from which, though he thought I could not do so, I saw him take out his long knife. It was one he brought back from Uruguay, from Paysandu, where they slaughter the oxen wholesale. I have heard him say more than once that it was too good to slay beasts with, and more fit to use on men--and once he drew it upon father. So that I knew he meant ill to you. Then I tried to escape to give you warning, only he would not let me. He seized me, tied me as you saw, and gagged me, though I shrieked once, hoping to alarm you--indeed, he threatened to kill me. And, at last, after he had also tied the dog--he would have slain that too, I feel sure, had it uttered one cry--he left me to the horrors of the night. Without one word he went away, not even saying when he would return. And," the girl concluded, "when I heard your pistol shots I fainted from fear--fear of what was going on. Oh! thank God, thank God, that he did not murder you--that you were not obliged to take his life in self-defence." "I am thankful, too," he said; "above all things, thankful for your sake." After which he added, "Now, Barbara, would it not be best for you to come with me and see his body? I must bury it, you know, and then I ought to go over to Tortola and tell the Commissioner. I suppose he should be informed of his death." "I suppose so," she said. "Only--how are you to go? The yacht is lost." "There is his own boat. Where is that?" But Barbara could not tell him, and soon after he found out. But now he prepared to go back to the beach to bury her brother's body, and he was not altogether surprised when she refused to accompany him. "You have told me he is dead and how he died," she said. "That is enough--what more can I need? And for himself--oh! why should I see him? He never cared for me as a brother should, his last act was one of cruelty to me, and he went forth to murder you. Moreover, he was callous about father's death, did indeed rejoice in it, I believe, because by it he became master of the place. No, I will not go and see him; I could not bear to look upon him again. And," she concluded, "my only regret is that you should have the task of burying him. It would have been better almost had he sunk to the bottom of the river." Therefore Reginald went off upon this duty, but before he did so he gave to Barbara the water-soaked packet of papers which he had taken from Alderly's shirt-pocket. "They fell out," he said, "after I had brought him ashore. There was nothing else. The knife you speak of must have sunk to the bottom; perhaps he even tried to defend himself against the shark with it in his last moments. We shall never know!" Nor did he ever know how that long Uruguay knife had once been nearly thrust into his breast as he lay sleeping; nor that with the knife, which had, indeed, sunk to the bottom of the river, had also sunk the auger with which he had bored half-a-dozen holes (each of the circumference of an ordinary cork) in the bottom of the _Pompeia_. One thing did, however, strike him as strange as he meditated over it all, namely, that from the time when Alderly must have bored those holes in the yacht to the time when she sank a considerable period had undoubtedly elapsed. And he wondered if it was during that period that he had managed to get on board and close the cabin door. Then, as he was burying him, he knew; he found out that his would-be murderer had indeed visited the _Pompeia_. For he was mistaken when he told Barbara earlier that there was nothing else on her brother's body. As he prepared to put the trunk into the hole he had dug for it--while still the fixed open eyes stared up at him, this time in the morning's sunlight, and still the beautifully white teeth gleamed in that light--he observed that, besides the papers which had dropped from his shirt, there were still some others that had remained within the pocket. And drawing them out he saw that, all soaked as they were like the others, they were the narrative of Nicholas Crafer. "So," he thought, while he felt faint and sick as he mused--"so he was in the cabin, after all! Heavens! he must have crept in while I slept, have rifled my pockets in the dark when the lamp had gone out, have--faugh!--had his foul hands all about me! Thank God! he must have come when the light had burnt out, otherwise he would have seen the pistol." He never knew that the ruffian had, in truth, known the pistol was there, but had forgotten, or feared to use, it when in the cabin later on. He tossed the remains into the hole he had dug, touching them with the greatest disgust and loathing, and then covered the spot up hurriedly and stamped the earth down over it, and took his way back to Barbara. And, as he went, he determined that he would not tell her of this further instance of villainy on her brother's part. Henceforth she should learn no more of the workings of that wicked heart and brain. When he reached the hut he saw her on the verandah, seated in the usual chair and with tears in her eyes. The papers he had given her were stretched out on a table before her, and, as he mounted the steps, she held out one to him and bade him read it. A glance showed that it was a will made by her father, a will properly drawn up and attested at some lawyer's office in Tortola; a will by which everything was left to her, including the island and the treasure if ever found--indeed, all that he possessed. "Because," he read, in the cramped legal hand of the person who had drawn it out, "of the cruelty, the greed and the evil temper of my son to me, as well as his ill-treatment of me and my dear daughter, Barbara, I give and bequeath to her all and everything of which I may die possessed, including Coffin Island, any buried treasure that may chance to be found," etc., etc., etc. "Great heavens!" Reginald thought to himself, as he handed her back the will, "there was no end to the scoundrel's wickedness. How could this villain be Barbara's brother?" CHAPTER XXXIX. THE APPROACHING SEARCH. Reginald found Joseph Alderly's boat on the same evening, when he was out on a tour about the coast of the island on the lookout for it. As he suspected, Alderly had brought it round to the neighbourhood of the river's mouth, preferring to get at him that way instead of by the path down from his house. His reasons for doing so might have been manifold, the young man knew very well--reasons that would, doubtless, at once occur to such a scheming brain as that of the dead ruffian. For, independently of the fact that he would have strongly wished to avoid any encounter with him on shore--and, for aught he knew, Reginald might be ashore at any period of the night--he might have brought his cutter to that neighbourhood so as to be able to get away from the island at once, after the sinking of the _Pompeia_ had been accomplished. For instance, had his plan succeeded he could have sailed to Anegada or Tortola within two or three hours from the time of the crime being committed, and, arriving at either place in the night, could have very easily induced the belief that he had anchored much earlier than he had actually done. In those spots very little, if any, notice is taken after dark of what boats are about--especially such boats as Alderly's, which are common all over the islands--and his _alibi_ would consequently have held good when Reginald was reported missing. And even the report of his being missing would not have spread abroad for probably some time after the event. None but tourists came to Coffin Island, and Barbara would have been unable to get away from it; while, since the _Pompeia_ would have disappeared for ever from human eyes, no one could have absolutely said that her temporary owner was dead. He might just as well have gone off with her to some other island as she have sunk to the bottom of the river, and Alderly could, therefore, have returned without his sister being able to advance one proof that Reginald Crafer had been made away with. "Though," said Reginald to himself, as he mused over the matter while he inspected Alderly's own boat, "if I had been drowned after she heard the pistol shots, she would certainly have thought I had died trying to defend myself. And, had her scoundrelly brother managed to survive me, Barbara would, if I mistake not, have taxed him very plainly with my death." He found the cutter anchored in about three fathoms of water, and had to get out to her in such a crazy, water-logged punt--in which Alderly must himself have come ashore--that he feared every moment the thing would sink under his weight, and expose him to the chance of a similar fate to that which had overtaken its owner. However, it was sounder than it looked, and, on inspecting the larger craft, he came to the conclusion that she would be navigable across to Tortola if she escaped bad weather--of which there were no signs now. The dead man had managed to patch her up in a manner very creditable to his knowledge of seacraft, and to set right the injuries she had received when cast ashore; so that, as far as the journey over to the Commissioner was concerned, he might start at once. "Though," he pondered, as he inspected the cutter and found nothing inside her beyond her ordinary gear but a bottle of rum, some meat and coarse bread, and a pipe--"though there is no reason why I should hurry myself. We had better begin to dig up the treasure now, I think, and, meanwhile, this dog's hole of a boat will serve for my habitation as well as the poor _Pompeia_, though it's not quite so sweet and wholesome." Whereon he hauled up her anchor, got her round to the river, and moored her as near as possible over the spot where the sunken yacht lay. "I may have to pay Juby a good deal, for her," he mused, as he went up the path to Barbara's house. "However, we ought to find the wherewithal on the Key to do so. I suppose she will give me enough to do that." And he laughed to himself as the thought passed through his mind. Barbara was eating her evening meal when he reached the hut, and he sat down to share it with her, telling her that henceforth she would have to keep him in food as long as they were together. "I had loaded the _Pompeia_ up with all sorts of good things such as are to be procured in the islands and at their stores," he said, trying to be gay and also to brighten her up, "but I might have saved myself the trouble. They are at the bottom of the river, and there they will stay until they are rotten. So, Barbara, I must live on you." She gave him one swift glance from the sweet hazel eyes under the straight black eyebrows--eyes whose lids were red now from long weeping--and he understood it well enough. He knew that she would give him everything she possessed in the world, including her very life, as well as the fortune that was now to be hers--if old Nicholas had made no mistake, and if no one had ever lighted on the Key and its contents between the time of his departure and the coming of the other Barbara. "By-the-bye," he said, as they ate their supper side by side, and Barbara tried to put such choice morsels of her poor plain food as there were on his plate, which attention he managed sometimes to avoid--"by-the-bye, we don't know after all what we are really going to discover. Nicholas managed to lose one of the most important parts of his manuscript, the list, as he calls it, of part of what he found. It is a good thing he didn't mislay the description of the Key and the measurements as well. If he had done that we should have been in a fix." "But," said Barbara, "he has said what is in the long box. We know that, at any rate. Surely that's a fortune in itself?" "What! six thousand pounds! Why, Barbara, when you go out into the world, the real world, London, the Continent, swagger German and Swiss places in the summer, and Rome and the Riviera in the winter, you'll find what a little bit of money six thousand pounds make. No! Nick's fifty thousand 'guineas' must be found for you before you become anything like a swell heiress with a romantic history, run after by all the men for your beauty and your wealth." "Don't--don't talk like that!" the girl said. "It pains me to hear you joking like that. I know nothing of the places you mention, and as to men running after me--oh, don't, don't! And besides, you have forgotten--it is not mine." "Every penny of it!" exclaimed Reginald, "except what Mr. Juby wants for the yacht if uninsured." "No! no! no!" she said. "Remember, it is not in the island--my island, I suppose, now. The Keys are as much yours, or anyone else's, as mine. And if it had been on the island, and we had dug it up, I would not have taken it. If you would not have shared it with me--I--I--well, I would have thrown it into the sea." "What a nice ending to poor old Nick's troubles and labours here in finding it, and at home in writing his long account in that queer fist of his! And also to all that your people have gone through, from your namesake downwards. No, no, Barbara! We won't throw it back into the sea, at any rate. And to-morrow we'll dig it up. Shall we?" This was agreed upon, and then Reginald prepared to leave her. He offered to stay in the house if she felt nervous--as she had once before implored him to do; but now she said, "No, she was not nervous. She feared nothing now. There was no one else who could come to harm him or her; the island was theirs and theirs alone." He noticed that she called it "theirs" and not "hers," but made no remark on the subject, since an idea had arisen in his mind: he knew now what the future of the treasure, of Barbara, and of himself must be!--and he proceeded to arrange for their movements on the morrow. "It will be low water two hours after daybreak," he said, "and by that time I will have brought the cutter and the boat round to the strip of beach nearest to the Keys. You might meet me there, Barbara, and bring some food and fresh water, and then we will begin. Meanwhile, let me have whatever tools and implements you possess for digging. I will take them with me and bring them in the cutter in the morning." In the shed behind the hut they found what was required, an old spade and a nearly new one, a pickaxe and some ropes--for the Alderlys, father and son, had had to attend to their garden in this tropical island almost as much as though they had lived in Europe--and these would be enough, he thought. So, shouldering them, he bade her "Good-night"--it seemed to each as though their hands were clasped together longer and more tightly now than they had ever been before!--and went his way down to the river once more. It would have been strange if, to-night--the night before the story, that his ancestor had written in those long past and forgotten years, was to be realised--he should not have had a host of thoughts whirling through his brain; if past and present had not been strangely confused and jumbled up together in that brain. There lay the cutter, a dark indistinct mass, in the midst of the stars reflected from above; in the very self-same spot where so many other small vessels, all connected with him, with Barbara, and with the treasure, had lain before. Itself the property of a villain whose villainy was inherited through centuries, it occupied the spot in that little river where once the _Etoyle_ had been moored, where she had been sunk, and where Simon Alderly and his murdered victim, the diver, had got ashore. Also there, or close by, had been the galliot of honest Nicholas with its dying and dead crew, and with Nicholas sleeping, or trying to sleep, in that place of death, or watching Alderly in his murderous madness as he slew his companion. And he pictured to himself the sloop with the unknown Martin having probably been anchored there before those days--doubtless as full of reckless, bloodstained scoundrels as was the _Etoyle_ herself; he remembered how, not twenty-four hours before, the graceful and pretty _Pompeia_ had ridden at anchor on the river's bosom--and now she, too, had gone to join the other wrecks below the water. He shuddered as these thoughts passed through his mind; shuddered at all that the treasure had led to in the way of murder and death. "It was here, here where I stand," he whispered to himself, "that the diver was slain; there, in the river, that the bones of the pirates lie, and also those of the crew of the galliot; above--where she, the pure outcome of so much evil, dwells--that Simon Alderly died mad and without time to repent." A slant of the rising moon gleamed through the wood on to the bank and played on the waters of the river lower down; the ray was thrown upon the very spot where, last night, he had seen the staring eyes and the glistening teeth of Joseph Alderly, as the limbless body swirled round with the stream--and he started and shivered. "Heavens!" he exclaimed, "it is a charnel-house, a place of horror! I--I cannot sleep in that boat to-night." He turned from the accursed spot--all beautiful as it was now beneath the rising moon, and illuminated with myriads of fireflies, while over and above all was the luscious perfume of tropical plants and flowers--and went his way through the thick underbrush to a part of the shore beyond the spot, where the body of Joseph Alderly had been buried, avoiding that place as he proceeded. Then, when he had gone some distance, he chose a bit of the beach high and dry above the line of the already receding sea, and, laying himself down upon it, gazed far over the waters to where a few lights sparkled at intervals from the little island of Tortola. But ere he slept, and when a deep sense of fatigue was stealing over him, he rose once more, and, kneeling down by the spot he had selected, he prayed long that, whatever the morrow might bring forth, at least one thing might be granted. He prayed that all the bloodshed, and the cruelty that that treasure had been the cause of for more than two centuries, had ended at last, never more to be renewed--he prayed that, henceforth, it might bring only happiness and peace in its train. "For her, for her," he whispered. "For her and for me." And, feeling sure that his prayer was heard and would be granted, he laid himself down again and soon was sleeping peacefully. CHAPTER XL. THE SEARCH. As the dawn came, and a cool wind blew over the water and brushed his cheek, he arose from a night of refreshing slumber--the first for two days--and took his way back to the cutter. Then, reaching her, he soon unmoored, made the boat fast astern, and, getting down the river, sailed round the island to the spot where the Keys were. It took him an hour to fetch the beach in two tacks, and then he saw that, early as he was, Barbara was there before him, and that she was seated on the shore, the dog at her feet and a basket by her side. This morning her eyes were no longer red--she had done with weeping for her vile brother, he thought--and her colour, always beautiful, except since the events of the last few days had driven it all away, had now come back to her. She, too, he knew, had slept peacefully at last, and in that peaceful rest all her loveliness had returned. "Now, Barbara," he said, after they had exchanged their morning greetings, he from the boat, and she from the shore, "we'll call the boat away, and off we go to your inheritance. In a few hours you will, I trust, be put in possession of it." Saying which, he anchored the cutter, got into the boat and cast her off, and so rowed ashore for Barbara. He had found out that the capabilities of this boat--crazy as it seemed--were quite equal to carrying them, and the implements for digging, out to the Key a hundred yards off, and he also knew that, by leaving Barbara on the middle Key when they had found the treasure, he could convey each of the boxes, or coffers, back to the island one by one. Then, as to the final removal of them and their owner from Coffin Island--well, that would all be arranged for later. A few minutes only and they stepped out upon the soft wet sand of the middle Key--they stood upon the place that, perhaps, no other foot had trodden since Nicholas left it more than two hundred years ago. There was nothing to bring anyone to that particular atom of an island among all the thousands upon thousands of islands with which the marine surface of the world is dotted, not even a search for the turtles and the eggs they laid. For, in these regions, those creatures are so common that nobody desiring to procure one would have even troubled to visit the middle Key while the outer ones were easier of access. "I begin to feel very nervous now we have reached here, and the search is about to begin," Barbara said. "Oh! what shall we find--or shall we find anything?" "Make your mind easy," Reginald replied, although he himself felt unaccountably excited, too, at what was before them. "The story left by Nicholas bears the stamp of truth on every line of it; I would stake my existence on his having buried the boxes as he wrote. And as to their having been disinterred, why! there is no possibility of that. Come, let us begin." He looked round at the sea as he spoke, and scanned the little crisping waves as they rolled on to the Key's shore, and, involuntarily and sailor-like, searched the horizon to see if there was any sail in sight, any likelihood of their being observed. Yet, as he knew and told the girl by his side, there was no chance of that. "On this, the east side of the Key," he said, "there is nothing nearer than the Cape de Verd Islands and the African coast, and nothing passes east or west within twenty miles of this place. We will make a beginning." Then they sat down on the brushwood of the island, disturbing as they did so a great two-hundred-pound turtle that crawled gasping away, and Reginald, taking out the now water-stained and blurred pages of Nicholas, began to read over carefully his measurements and instructions for finding the exact spot where the buried treasure lay. "'From the north side of the middle Key is fifty-one good strides of three feet each,'" he repeated from the paper; "'from the south side is fifty-three, from the east is forty-nine, from the west is fifty strides and a half.' Barbara, let us measure. I will begin from this, the south side." Very carefully he paced out the strides, "good ones," as his predecessor had directed, only, instead of sticking in the ground a sword--which, of course, he did not possess here--he put a large white stone. Then, as Nicholas had himself done, three times did he go over the ground, making all the strides correspond with the ancient manuscript; and at last he said to Barbara, "Now we will dig." "It is only three feet from the surface to the topmost turtle shell," he remarked, as he took off his light jacket and rolled up his sleeves. "Ten minutes will show if we have hit it right." At the end of those ten minutes he found that, though he had made a mismeasurement of a foot and a half from the east to west, he had otherwise judged his distance with sufficient accuracy. The treasure, certainly the topmost turtle shell, was there. The spade struck against the edge of that shell instead of the exact middle of it; in a few minutes more, by digging the sand up further to the west, the whole of it was exposed, its convex side rising towards them. "We have found it," he exclaimed. "We have found it, Barbara! The treasure is--yours!" * * * * * * What was in the oblong box has been told by Nicholas himself, therefore it is not necessary to write down an account of its contents again. Roughly, too, he has told what he found in the first two "coffers" or chests, including the "grinning skull," which they, of course, found also. But Nicholas's list had been lost, therefore one somewhat more full shall now be given, leaving his account of the first strong box to speak for itself. And also in the second, "the Spanish pieces of eight, the Portyguese crusadoes, English crowns, and many more French coins as well as hundreds of gold pieces of our kings and queens away back to Elizabeth," were all there as he has described, so neither need they be again set down. It was when they came to the third coffer that their curiosity was the most aroused, for with it began their search for something he had left no account of, something that was described in that "list" which was missing. Therefore, they opened it with almost trembling hands--when it had been brought up to the surface--wondering what they should find. On the top lay a deerskin, dressed and trimmed, showing that whenever it might originally have been put in, it had at least belonged to people who had some of the accessories of civilisation about them, since, had it belonged to wild and savage persons, it would have been hardly dressed at all, nor would it have possessed any trimming at the edges. This they lifted off, only to come to a variety of smaller skins, such as those of fox, goat, and sheep, which it was easy to perceive were simply used as wrappers to large substances within them. "These coverings," said Reginald, as he unwrapped one, "seem to point to England, or at least Europe, as the spot whence they came; well, let us--ah!" There rolled from out the one he was at that moment unwinding a beaker a foot high, of a dull copper colour, much embossed with leaves and flowers. Yet, dull as it was, even their slight knowledge was enough to tell them it was gold. Also its shape was antique enough to show that it was no new piece of workmanship, even when Simon Alderly had found it--if he did find it, as seemed most likely; its long, thin lip, thin neck, and big body proclaimed it of the middle ages at least. "So," said Reginald, giving it a rub with some of the sand by his side, under which the dim coppery hue turned to a more golden yellow, "this is Number Three. If the other box is full of such gold ornaments the find will be worth having." In this box itself there were no more gold beakers, only, instead, it was full of silver plate of all kinds, and all enveloped in skins. There were also two more beakers, but in silver, many cups and chalices, some with covers to them and some without, several silver ewers, a long vase all neck and spout, some extremely ancient candelabras, and a woman's silver dagger, known in old days as a wedding knife. "Oh!" said Barbara, appalled at the sight of objects so unfamiliar to her, who had never drunk out of aught but calabashes, gourds, and cheap earthenware--"Oh! it seems a sin to dig all these beautiful things up." "A greater one to let them lie in the earth," said Reginald with a laugh. "Come, let's go on to Number Four and see what he has got inside him." "Now, Barbara," Reginald said next, as they began on Number Four. "Shut your eyes until I tell you to open them." The girl obeyed--indeed, all through this treasure hunt, or, as it had now become, treasure inspection, they were more like a boy and girl playing with new toys than a grown man and a young woman just about to leave her teens behind her--and, when he told her to open them, she saw that he had come upon a number of little plump bags tied at the neck. These bags were made of a coarse kind of linen cloth, or Russia duck, and were much discoloured; yet, rough as they were, they did not prevent the impression of coins being seen inside. "Here we come to the money--let's hope it's not copper!" exclaimed Reginald. Again, when they opened the first bag and poured out the contents into Barbara's lap, it looked as though they had found copper; but again, as before, what seemed copper was in reality gold. But the pieces which they saw were such as they had never seen the like of before, such as they never were able to guess the name of until some time afterwards, when more experienced numismatists than this young sailor and the girl by his side had the handling of them. What they absolutely found was: First, a bag full of Elizabeth "soveraines," valued in her time at 30s. each, it containing two hundred and six of these pieces. Then there was a bag full of angels of the same reign, valued at 12s. each, of angelets at 6s., and of quarter angels at 3s., there being of these smaller coins three hundred and eleven in the little sack. The third bag they opened--a larger one--contained fifty gold crowns of Henry VIII.'s reign, fifty gold half-crowns of Elizabeth's--the former having the figure of the king on horseback--and in it, also, were one hundred and thirty rose nobles, eighty-five double-rose nobles, eighty-three double-rose rials, or reals, each of the value of 30s., and two double gold crowns, these two being the largest and most valuable of any of the coins they found. "We are getting on, Barbara; we shall have a nice stock to take back to the hut," Reginald said, as he tied the bags up again exactly as before. "However, let's continue. This box is a monster and contains the most of all." Whoever had put together all this treasure of money--as well as what was to come--was, it is certain, a methodical person; for, with the exception of the above coins of Henry VIII. being mixed with those of his daughter (there was not one of her sister, Mary's reign), the different monarchs had been kept separate and distinct from one another. This was shown by the next three bags, two of which contained gold coins of James I.'s reign, but of no other English king. Of these, the first had in it two hundred and one spur-rials of the value of 15s. each--these coins being so called from the rays, issuing out of the sun upon them, resembling the rowels of spurs--one hundred and three of the single rose rials, and four single crowns. The second bag had exactly one hundred single crowns by themselves; the third had two hundred and two small gold pieces, French ones, they being crowns of the sun as originally coined by Louis XI., and valued in England in Elizabeth's time at 7s. each. "Well, Barbara," Reginald said, as they finished these bags, "what do you think of your fortune as far as it has gone? After we have had some food we will go on and see what more there is." "I think," the girl replied, as she opened her basket and took from it some bread, eggs, a piece of cold roasted goat's flesh, and some of the fruit which grew in such profusion on Coffin Island--"I think as I have always thought, namely, that it is not my fortune but yours, and that----" "Ah!" interrupted Reginald. "Well! we won't quarrel over that now. So I'll put my question in a different way. What do you think of the fortune as far as it has gone?" "I think it is a shame to dig it up. It seems like digging up the poor dead creatures who put it first in the vault--who wrapped it all up so carefully, and tied the money up in bags as if they felt sure the day would come when they, or those dear to them, would inherit it all. And think of what strangers it has come to, not only now but before! Simon Alderly had no real right to it, neither had Nicholas Crafer, nor have you nor I." "You or I--you, of course--mean to keep it, though, Barbara. It has been ours for two hundred years: yours by the first discovery--namely, by the respected Simon; mine by the second--namely, the worthy Nicholas; and, in spite of any silly old laws about treasure trove, why, finding's keepings. Besides, the treasure trove was two hundred years ago. Our ancestors are responsible for that part of it. We, on the contrary, can show a two centuries' title--that's good enough for all the lawyers in the world, I fancy." With jokes and _badinage_ such as this the young man passed the luncheon, dinner, or meal-hour--whichever it should be called--away. Indeed, at this time, when the long-buried wealth of the past was being at last revealed to its ultimate heirs and possessors, he was anxious above all things to keep off the discussion of whose it was, and who was to have it and who was not. As has been suggested a little earlier, _he_ saw, _he_ knew--or felt almost positive that he saw and knew--what was the final disposition of all that the Key was now disgorging, only--the present was not the time to speak about that disposition to Barbara. So, as much as possible, he kept to other matters in connection with the task they were now engaged upon. "Whoever they were," he went on meditatively, as the simple repast drew to an end, "who originally owned it all, they must almost certainly have been our country people. Although we don't either of us know what those coins are, we can at least see that they are mostly English, and all about one period, namely, Elizabeth's and her successor's, James. Now, let's see. Charles I. succeeded James, eh, Barbara?" "Yes," said the girl. "Yes. At school we thought Charles I. the most interesting of all the English kings." "Ah!" said Reginald; "well, I've heard other people say differently. Our chaplain in the _Ianthe_, for instance, used to wrangle with the paymaster for hours about him, and call him all kinds of names. However, let's put two and two together. Charles's was an uncomfortable sort of reign, for others besides himself, and all sorts of rumpusses were going on--people flying from England to America, _et cetera_. I wonder if the gentleman who owned all these things was one of those? He might be, you know, and have got drifted down here after making bad weather of it in the Atlantic; or the pirates--hem!--of _his own_ day, Barbara--no allusions meant to respected ancestors!--might have seized on him--or--or--half a dozen things. I don't suppose we ever shall find out." "No," she said, "I don't suppose we shall. Perhaps it's better that we never should. It might interfere with _your_ enjoyment of it all." Whereon Reginald laughed once more, while a beautiful but tell-tale blush came to the girl's face--possibly it had dawned on her, too, by now, how the ultimate possession of the treasure might be arranged!--and then they proceeded to inspect what remained. CHAPTER XLI. THE END. What did remain in this big chest was now to be examined, and they observed that the same precautions had been taken in the way of coverings and wrappings as with all the previous finds. "Which," said Reginald, descanting thereon as he unwound the wrappers, "shows one thing, if no more. It testifies that all the spoil belonged to the same individual, or individuals. But who was he, Barbara, who was she, or who were they? That's what I want to know." It was, however, what neither he nor Barbara nor anyone else were ever to know--the treasure hidden centuries ago was, indeed, found, but all knowledge of who or what they were who had so hidden it away was lost for ever. The treasure of those forgotten ones remained to come to these young people at last, but all history, record, and memory of the owners had vanished entirely from the world. "What's this?" exclaimed Reginald, unwinding a roll as they continued their inspection--"what's this?" while, as he spoke, there was revealed to him a band of metal that looked as though it was a portion of some circular object. It was, in truth, the front part of an ancient coronet, or crown, having set into it five rubies and a diamond, the gold being in this case far more yellow and less coppery looking than that of the coins had been. And as Reginald turned the thing about in the glowing light of the Caribbean Sea, the gems sparkled and winked and flashed their many-coloured rays in their eyes, as though they themselves were pleased once more to be free from the darkness in which they had lain so long. "Swells in their day, no doubt," said the young man, referring to those who had once owned all these valuables, "to have worn such things." And again he exclaimed: "Who on earth could they have been?" The next things they unrolled were five bars of gold, or rather lumps of gold, since instead of being of the shape and form bars are now, they were in cubes, though one was triangular. "A quarter of a pound weight each, Barbara," the young man said, balancing them on his hand. "A quarter of a pound each, if an ounce. I wonder the Respected One could refrain from carrying all this wealth off to his own particular Barbara, or that old Nicholas didn't try to get it away in the Galliot." Barbara only smiled--indeed, at this moment, woman as she was, she was trying the effect of the front part of the coronet as a bracelet on her arm, and was turning her wrist about to observe the flashing of the stones--and then Reginald proceeded with his inspection. "Hullo! what have we got now?" he exclaimed, as he unfolded the next object that came to hand. What he had got now proved to be a sword-handle, cross-shaped and broken off sharp about an inch below the silver guard-plate. In this handle, which itself was massive silver, roughly fretted so that a firm grasp might be obtained, were more precious stones, mostly diamonds, but with one or two missing from their sockets or settings. "Undoubtedly swells," murmured Reginald again, "or else freebooters. Fancy, Barbara, if, after all, the original depositor of these things was a sea-robber or pirate himself! One would imagine he could hardly have got such a collection of things otherwise. Unless, on the other hand, he had been a pawnbroker, called, I believe, in those days a Lombard merchant. What do you think?" "I am getting tired of finding these things," the girl said, listlessly. "I hope there are not many more." "We'll soon see." They had, however, nearly finished their work by now; the remainder of the chest's contents were soon examined. They found, to conclude, a little bag of unset gems--a handful of rubies and diamonds; they found also a gold musk ball, and a little silver casket full of musk, the aroma of which had long since departed, and they also discovered a small iron-bound box full of gold dust. Some drinking cups, very small ones, they likewise found, and some pieces of ivory sawn into slabs, several extremely curious and very unwieldy rings with precious stones in them, a pouncet box in gold, and various pieces of antique lace, black with age. And this concluded their find "Altogether," said Reginald, "I'll bet that Nicholas was not far wrong in his computation of the value of the things in his own day, and, I expect, even in these times, the contents of the oblong box and the chests won't fall far short of his 'fiftie thousand guineas.' But one thing we ought to keep for luck, Barbara, and never part with--and that's the skull, or 'Death,' as Nick called it. It kept its watch and ward well through all the years." * * * * * * That evening, as the sun dipped below Porto Rico, they sat once more together, as they had so often sat in the last month, upon the verandah of Barbara's house. Within, in the living-room, were piled the chests and the oblong box, all having been brought from the Key to the shore, and from the shore to the building, by their united efforts. And on Barbara's face there was a look of sadness pitiful to see, and in her eyes the signs that the tears were not far away. "It seems," she said, speaking very low, "as though with the finding of this treasure my life is finished, even as the quest of my family is finished, too. There is nothing more to be done." "Is there not, Barbara?" asked Reginald, also speaking low, and with more seriousness in his tone than had been apparent since they had grown such friends and intimates. "Is there not? Is there not a long lifetime before you in which to enjoy your new-found wealth--the wealth that has come to you after two centuries of search for it?" "Oh!" she exclaimed, springing to her feet and standing before him, "why speak in that way? Why say such things? The wealth is yours, yours only, and you know it. It was you who brought it to light. It was your ancestor's, who might have taken it away with him for ever had he chosen. And when it was at last found, where was it? Not even on our land, on the property that is mine. What part, what share have I in it?" "I will tell you, Barbara," he said, rising himself, also, and standing by her, while, if possible, his voice became now more deep and earnest. "I will tell you what part and share is yours. The share not only of all that we have to-day unearthed, but of my life. The share of everything I have in this world, even this treasure, if it is rightly mine. My sweet, I loved you almost from the very first, I loved you beyond all doubt from the time that _he_ came back, and I knew that, together, we must protect ourselves from him. Barbara, I love you now, and shall love you all my life until I die. Will you not share that life with me, share all with me for ever?" His arm stole round her as he spoke and he drew her softly towards him, while, as he did so, her golden head drooped to his shoulder, the soft eyes looked up at him from beneath the dark lashes, and, for the first time, their lips met. FOOTNOTES [Footnote 1: Afterwards King George I. of England.--Ed.] [Footnote 2: The drink of the Navy prior to the introduction of rum by Admiral Vernon.] [Footnote 3: He was Astronomer Royal from 1719 to 1742, but in Phips' time had made many improvements and suggestions in the necessary apparatus for divers.--J. B.-B.] [Footnote 4: 1st lieutenant.] [Footnote 5: Passenger.] [Footnote 6: Peter Martyr calls it a solid piece of gold, and says more than a thousand persons had seen and handled it.--J. B.-B.] [Footnote 7: This would appear at first sight to be an error on the part of Nicholas Crafer. It was not so, however; Cardinal Bourbon was elected King of France by the league in 1589 (against Henri IV.), under the name of Charles X., and some coins were struck by him.--J. B.-B.] THE END. 
17188	----	Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 17188-h.htm or 17188-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/1/8/17188/17188-h/17188-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/1/8/17188/17188-h.zip) BUCCANEERS AND PIRATES OF OUR COASTS by FRANK R. STOCKTON Illustrated [Illustration: "The pirates climbed up the sides of the man-of-war as if they had been twenty-nine cats."--Frontispiece.] [Illustration] Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers New York by arrangement with The Macmillan Company Copyright, 1897-1898, By the Century Co. Copyright, 1898, 1926, By the MacMillan Company. All rights reserved--no part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in magazine or newspaper. Set up and electrotyped July, 1898. Reprinted November, 1898; September, 1905; May, 1906; April, October, 1908; October, 1910; March, 1913; September, 1914; January, 1915; October, 1917. Printed in the United States of America FOREWORD Tempting boys to be what they should be--giving them in wholesome form what they want--that is the purpose and power of Scouting. To help parents and leaders of youth secure _books boys like best_ that are also best for boys, the Boy Scouts of America organized EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY. The books included, formerly sold at prices ranging from $1.50 to $2.00 but, by special arrangement with the several publishers interested, are now sold in the EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY Edition at $1.00 per volume. The books of EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY were selected by the Library Commission of the Boy Scouts of America, consisting of George F. Bowerman, Librarian, Public Library of the District of Columbia; Harrison W. Craver, Director, Engineering Societies Library, New York City; Claude G. Leland, Superintendent, Bureau of Libraries, Board of Education, New York City; Edward F. Stevens, Librarian, Pratt Institute Free Library, Brooklyn, N.Y., and Franklin K. Mathiews, Chief Scout Librarian. Only such books were chosen by the Commission as proved to be, by _a nation wide canvas_, most in demand by the boys themselves. Their popularity is further attested by the fact that in the EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY Edition, more than a million and a quarter copies of these books have already been sold. We know so well, are reminded so often of the worth of the good book and great, that too often we fail to observe or understand the influence for good of a boy's recreational reading. Such books may influence him for good or ill as profoundly as his play activities, of which they are a vital part. The needful thing is to find stories in which the heroes have the characteristics boys so much admire--unquenchable courage, immense resourcefulness, absolute fidelity, conspicuous greatness. We believe the books of EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY measurably well meet this challenge. BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA, [signed] James E. West Chief Scout Executive. Contents Chapter Page I. The Bold Buccaneers 1 II. Some Masters in Piracy 7 III. Pupils in Piracy 16 IV. Peter the Great 23 V. The Story of a Pearl Pirate 31 VI. The Surprising Adventures of Bartholemy Portuguez 39 VII. The Pirate who could not Swim 49 VIII. How Bartholemy rested Himself 59 IX. A Pirate Author 65 X. The Story of Roc, the Brazilian 72 XI. A Buccaneer Boom 89 XII. The Story of L'Olonnois the Cruel 94 XIII. A Resurrected Pirate 100 XIV. Villany on a Grand Scale 109 XV. A Just Reward 119 XVI. A Pirate Potentate 132 XVII. How Morgan was helped by Some Religious People 145 XVIII. A Piratical Aftermath 153 XIX. A Tight Place for Morgan 159 XX. The Story of a High-Minded Pirate 171 XXI. Exit Buccaneer; Enter Pirate 192 XXII. The Great Blackbeard comes upon the Stage 200 XXIII. A True-Hearted Sailor draws his Sword 210 XXIV. A Greenhorn under the Black Flag 217 XXV. Bonnet again to the Front 224 XXVI. The Battle of the Sand Bars 233 XXVII. A Six Weeks' Pirate 243 XXVIII. The Story of Two Women Pirates 253 XXIX. A Pirate from Boyhood 263 XXX. A Pirate of the Gulf 277 XXXI. The Pirate of the Buried Treasure 291 XXXII. The Real Captain Kidd 309 [Illustration: The Haunts of "The Brethren of the Coast"] Buccaneers and Pirates of Our Coasts Chapter I The Bold Buccaneers When I was a boy I strongly desired to be a pirate, and the reason for this was the absolute independence of that sort of life. Restrictions of all sorts had become onerous to me, and in my reading of the adventures of the bold sea-rovers of the main, I had unconsciously selected those portions of a pirate's life which were attractive to me, and had totally disregarded all the rest. In fact, I had a great desire to become what might be called a marine Robin Hood. I would take from the rich and give to the poor; I would run my long, low, black craft by the side of the merchantman, and when I had loaded my vessel with the rich stuffs and golden ingots which composed her cargo, I would sail away to some poor village, and make its inhabitants prosperous and happy for the rest of their lives by a judicious distribution of my booty. I would always be as free as a sea-bird. My men would be devoted to me, and my word would be their law. I would decide for myself whether this or that proceeding would be proper, generous, and worthy of my unlimited power; when tired of sailing, I would retire to my island,--the position of which, in a beautiful semi-tropic ocean, would be known only to myself and to my crew,--and there I would pass happy days in the company of my books, my works of art, and all the various treasures I had taken from the mercenary vessels which I had overhauled. Such was my notion of a pirate's life. I would kill nobody; the very sight of my black flag would be sufficient to put an end to all thought of resistance on the part of my victims, who would no more think of fighting me, than a fat bishop would have thought of lifting his hand against Robin Hood and his merry men; and I truly believe that I expected my conscience to have a great deal more to do in the way of approval of my actions, than it had found necessary in the course of my ordinary school-boy life. I mention these early impressions because I have a notion that a great many people--and not only young people--have an idea of piracy not altogether different from that of my boyhood. They know that pirates are wicked men, that, in fact, they are sea-robbers or maritime murderers, but their bold and adventurous method of life, their bravery, daring, and the exciting character of their expeditions, give them something of the same charm and interest which belong to the robber knights of the middle ages. The one mounts his mailed steed and clanks his long sword against his iron stirrup, riding forth into the world with a feeling that he can do anything that pleases him, if he finds himself strong enough. The other springs into his rakish craft, spreads his sails to the wind, and dashes over the sparkling main with a feeling that he can do anything he pleases, provided he be strong enough. The first pirates who made themselves known in American waters were the famous buccaneers; these began their career in a very commonplace and unobjectionable manner, and the name by which they were known had originally no piratical significance. It was derived from the French word _boucanier_, signifying "a drier of beef." Some of the West India islands, especially San Domingo, were almost overrun with wild cattle of various kinds, and this was owing to the fact that the Spaniards had killed off nearly all the natives, and so had left the interior of the islands to the herds of cattle which had increased rapidly. There were a few settlements on the seacoast, but the Spaniards did not allow the inhabitants of these to trade with any nation but their own, and consequently the people were badly supplied with the necessaries of life. But the trading vessels which sailed from Europe to that part of the Caribbean Sea were manned by bold and daring sailors, and when they knew that San Domingo contained an abundance of beef cattle, they did not hesitate to stop at the little seaports to replenish their stores. The natives of the island were skilled in the art of preparing beef by smoking and drying it,--very much in the same way in which our Indians prepare "jerked meat" for winter use. But so many vessels came to San Domingo for beef that there were not enough people on the island to do all the hunting and drying that was necessary, so these trading vessels frequently anchored in some quiet cove, and the crews went on shore and devoted themselves to securing a cargo of beef,--not only enough for their own use, but for trading purposes; thus they became known as "beef-driers," or buccaneers. When the Spaniards heard of this new industry which had arisen within the limits of their possessions, they pursued the vessels of the buccaneers wherever they were seen, and relentlessly destroyed them and their crews. But there were not enough Spanish vessels to put down the trade in dried beef; more European vessels--generally English and French--stopped at San Domingo; more bands of hunting sailors made their way into the interior. When these daring fellows knew that the Spaniards were determined to break up their trade, they became more determined that it should not be broken up, and they armed themselves and their vessels so that they might be able to make a defence against the Spanish men-of-war. Thus gradually and almost imperceptibly a state of maritime warfare grew up in the waters of the West Indies between Spain and the beef-traders of other nations; and from being obliged to fight, the buccaneers became glad to fight, provided that it was Spain they fought. True to her policy of despotism and cruelty when dealing with her American possessions, Spain waged a bitter and bloody war against the buccaneers who dared to interfere with the commercial relations between herself and her West India colonies, and in return, the buccaneers were just as bitter and savage in their warfare against Spain. From defending themselves against Spanish attacks, they began to attack Spaniards whenever there was any chance of success, at first only upon the sea, but afterwards on land. The cruelty and ferocity of Spanish rule had brought them into existence, and it was against Spain and her possessions that the cruelty and ferocity which she had taught them were now directed. When the buccaneers had begun to understand each other and to effect organizations among themselves, they adopted a general name,--"The Brethren of the Coast." The outside world, especially the Spanish world, called them pirates, sea-robbers, buccaneers,--any title which would express their lawless character, but in their own denomination of themselves they expressed only their fraternal relations; and for the greater part of their career, they truly stood by each other like brothers. Chapter II Some Masters in Piracy From the very earliest days of history there have been pirates, and it is, therefore, not at all remarkable that, in the early days of the history of this continent, sea-robbers should have made themselves prominent; but the buccaneers of America differed in many ways from those pirates with whom the history of the old world has made us acquainted. It was very seldom that an armed vessel set out from an European port for the express purpose of sea-robbery in American waters. At first nearly all the noted buccaneers were traders. But the circumstances which surrounded them in the new world made of them pirates whose evil deeds have never been surpassed in any part of the globe. These unusual circumstances and amazing temptations do not furnish an excuse for the exceptionally wicked careers of the early American pirates; but we are bound to remember these causes or we could not understand the records of the settlement of the West Indies. The buccaneers were fierce and reckless fellows who pursued their daring occupation because it was profitable, because they had learned to like it, and because it enabled them to wreak a certain amount of vengeance upon the common enemy. But we must not assume that they inaugurated the piratical conquests and warfare which existed so long upon our eastern seacoasts. Before the buccaneers began their careers, there had been great masters of piracy who had opened their schools in the Caribbean Sea; and in order that the condition of affairs in this country during parts of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries may be clearly understood, we will consider some of the very earliest noted pirates of the West Indies. When we begin a judicial inquiry into the condition of our fellow-beings, we should try to be as courteous as we can, but we must be just; consequently a man's fame and position must not turn us aside, when we are acting as historical investigators. Therefore, we shall be bold and speak the truth, and although we shall take off our hats and bow very respectfully, we must still assert that Christopher Columbus was the first who practised piracy in American waters. When he sailed with his three little ships to discover unknown lands, he was an accredited explorer for the court of Spain, and was bravely sailing forth with an honest purpose, and with the same regard for law and justice as is possessed by any explorer of the present day. But when he discovered some unknown lands, rich in treasure and outside of all legal restrictions, the views and ideas of the great discoverer gradually changed. Being now beyond the boundaries of civilization, he also placed himself beyond the boundaries of civilized law. Robbery, murder, and the destruction of property, by the commanders of naval expeditions, who have no warrant or commission for their conduct, is the same as piracy, and when Columbus ceased to be a legalized explorer, and when, against the expressed wishes, and even the prohibitions, of the royal personages who had sent him out on this expedition, he began to devastate the countries he had discovered, and to enslave and exterminate their peaceable natives, then he became a master in piracy, from whom the buccaneers afterward learned many a valuable lesson. It is not necessary for us to enter very deeply into the consideration of the policy of Columbus toward the people of the islands of the West Indies. His second voyage was nothing more than an expedition for the sake of plunder. He had discovered gold and other riches in the West Indies and he had found that the people who inhabited the islands were simple-hearted, inoffensive creatures, who did not know how to fight and who did not want to fight. Therefore, it was so easy to sail his ships into the harbors of defenceless islands, to subjugate the natives, and to take away the products of their mines and soil, that he commenced a veritable course of piracy. The acquisition of gold and all sorts of plunder seemed to be the sole object of this Spanish expedition; natives were enslaved, and subjected to the greatest hardships, so that they died in great numbers. At one time three hundred of them were sent as slaves to Spain. A pack of bloodhounds, which Columbus had brought with him for the purpose, was used to hunt down the poor Indians when they endeavored to escape from the hands of the oppressors, and in every way the island of Hayti, the principal scene of the actions of Columbus, was treated as if its inhabitants had committed a dreadful crime by being in possession of the wealth which the Spaniards desired for themselves. Queen Isabella was greatly opposed to these cruel and unjust proceedings. She sent back to their native land the slaves which Columbus had shipped to Spain, and she gave positive orders that no more of the inhabitants were to be enslaved, and that they were all to be treated with moderation and kindness. But the Atlantic is a wide ocean, and Columbus, far away from his royal patron, paid little attention to her wishes and commands; without going further into the history of this period, we will simply mention the fact that it was on account of his alleged atrocities that Columbus was superseded in his command, and sent back in chains to Spain. There was another noted personage of the sixteenth century who played the part of pirate in the new world, and thereby set a most shining example to the buccaneers of those regions. This was no other than Sir Francis Drake, one of England's greatest naval commanders. It is probable that Drake, when he started out in life, was a man of very law-abiding and orderly disposition, for he was appointed by Queen Elizabeth a naval chaplain, and, it is said, though there is some doubt about this, that he was subsequently vicar of a parish. But by nature he was a sailor, and nothing else, and after having made several voyages in which he showed himself a good fighter, as well as a good commander, he undertook, in 1572, an expedition against the Spanish settlements in the West Indies, for which he had no legal warrant whatever. Spain was not at war with England, and when Drake sailed with four small ships into the port of the little town of Nombre de Dios in the middle of the night, the inhabitants of the town were as much astonished as the people of Perth Amboy would be if four armed vessels were to steam into Raritan Bay, and endeavor to take possession of the town. The peaceful Spanish townspeople were not at war with any civilized nation, and they could not understand why bands of armed men should invade their streets, enter the market-place, fire their calivers, or muskets, into the air, and then sound a trumpet loud enough to wake up everybody in the place. Just outside of the town the invaders had left a portion of their men, and when these heard the trumpet in the market-place, they also fired their guns; all this noise and hubbub so frightened the good people of the town, that many of them jumped from their beds, and without stopping to dress, fled away to the mountains. But all the citizens were not such cowards, and fourteen or fifteen of them armed themselves and went out to defend their town from the unknown invaders. Beginners in any trade or profession, whether it be the playing of the piano, the painting of pictures, or the pursuit of piracy, are often timid and distrustful of themselves; so it happened on this occasion with Francis Drake and his men, who were merely amateur pirates, and showed very plainly that they did not yet understand their business. When the fifteen Spanish citizens came into the market-place and found there the little body of armed Englishmen, they immediately fired upon them, not knowing or caring who they were. This brave resistance seems to have frightened Drake and his men almost as much as their trumpets and guns had frightened the citizens, and the English immediately retreated from the town. When they reached the place where they had left the rest of their party, they found that these had already run away, and taken to the boats. Consequently Drake and his brave men were obliged to take off some of their clothes and to wade out to the little ships. The Englishmen secured no booty whatever, and killed only one Spaniard, who was a man who had been looking out of a window to see what was the matter. Whether or not Drake's conscience had anything to do with the bungling manner in which he made this first attempt at piracy, we cannot say, but he soon gave his conscience a holiday, and undertook some very successful robbing enterprises. He received information from some natives, that a train of mules was coming across the Isthmus of Panama loaded with gold and silver bullion, and guarded only by their drivers; for the merchants who owned all this treasure had no idea that there was any one in that part of the world who would commit a robbery upon them. But Drake and his men soon proved that they could hold up a train of mules as easily as some of the masked robbers in our western country hold up a train of cars. All the gold was taken, but the silver was too heavy for the amateur pirates to carry. Two days after that, Drake and his men came to a place called "The House of Crosses," where they killed five or six peaceable merchants, but were greatly disappointed to find no gold, although the house was full of rich merchandise of various kinds. As his men had no means of carrying away heavy goods, he burned up the house and all its contents and went to his ships, and sailed away with the treasure he had already obtained. Whatever this gallant ex-chaplain now thought of himself, he was considered by the Spaniards as an out-and-out pirate, and in this opinion they were quite correct. During his great voyage around the world, which he began in 1577, he came down upon the Spanish-American settlements like a storm from the sea. He attacked towns, carried off treasure, captured merchant-vessels,--and in fact showed himself to be a thoroughbred and accomplished pirate of the first class. It was in consequence of the rich plunder with which his ships were now loaded, that he made his voyage around the world. He was afraid to go back the way he came, for fear of capture, and so, having passed the Straits of Magellan, and having failed to find a way out of the Pacific in the neighborhood of California, he doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and sailed along the western coast of Africa to European waters. This grand piratical expedition excited great indignation in Spain, which country was still at peace with England, and even in England there were influential people who counselled the Queen that it would be wise and prudent to disavow Drake's actions, and compel him to restore to Spain the booty he had taken from his subjects. But Queen Elizabeth was not the woman to do that sort of thing. She liked brave men and brave deeds, and she was proud of Drake. Therefore, instead of punishing him, she honored him, and went to take dinner with him on board his ship, which lay at Deptford. So Columbus does not stand alone as a grand master of piracy. The famous Sir Francis Drake, who became vice-admiral of the fleet which defeated the Spanish Armada, was a worthy companion of the great Genoese. These notable instances have been mentioned because it would be unjust to take up the history of those resolute traders who sailed from England, France, and Holland, to the distant waters of the western world for the purpose of legitimate enterprise and commerce, and who afterwards became thorough-going pirates, without trying to make it clear that they had shining examples for their notable careers. Chapter III Pupils in Piracy After the discoveries of Columbus, the Spanish mind seems to have been filled with the idea that the whole undiscovered world, wherever it might be, belonged to Spain, and that no other nation had any right whatever to discover anything on the other side of the Atlantic, or to make any use whatever of lands which had been discovered. In fact, the natives of the new countries, and the inhabitants of all old countries except her own, were considered by Spain as possessing no rights whatever. If the natives refused to pay tribute, or to spend their days toiling for gold for their masters, or if vessels from England or France touched at one of their settlements for purposes of trade, it was all the same to the Spaniards; a war of attempted extermination was waged alike against the peaceful inhabitants of Hispaniola, now Hayti, and upon the bearded and hardy seamen from Northern Europe. Under this treatment the natives weakened and gradually disappeared; but the buccaneers became more and more numerous and powerful. The buccaneers were not unlike that class of men known in our western country as cowboys. Young fellows of good families from England and France often determined to embrace a life of adventure, and possibly profit, and sailed out to the West Indies to get gold and hides, and to fight Spaniards. Frequently they dropped their family names and assumed others more suitable to roving freebooters, and, like the bold young fellows who ride over our western plains, driving cattle and shooting Indians, they adopted a style of dress as free and easy, but probably not quite so picturesque, as that of the cowboy. They soon became a very rough set of fellows, in appearance as well as action, endeavoring in every way to let the people of the western world understand that they were absolutely free and independent of the manners and customs, as well as of the laws of their native countries. So well was this independence understood, that when the buccaneers became strong enough to inflict some serious injury upon the settlements in the West Indies, and the Spanish court remonstrated with Queen Elizabeth on account of what had been done by some of her subjects, she replied that she had nothing to do with these buccaneers, who, although they had been born in England, had ceased for the time to be her subjects, and the Spaniards must defend themselves against them just as if they were an independent nation. But it is impossible for men who have been brought up in civilized society, and who have been accustomed to obey laws, to rid themselves entirely of all ideas of propriety and morality, as soon as they begin a life of lawlessness. So it happened that many of the buccaneers could not divest themselves of the notions of good behavior to which they had been accustomed from youth. For instance, we are told of a captain of buccaneers, who, landing at a settlement on a Sunday, took his crew to church. As it is not at all probable that any of the buccaneering vessels carried chaplains, opportunities of attending services must have been rare. This captain seems to have wished to show that pirates in church know what they ought to do just as well as other people; it was for this reason that, when one of his men behaved himself in an improper and disorderly manner during the service, this proper-minded captain arose from his seat and shot the offender dead. There was a Frenchman of that period who must have been a warm-hearted philanthropist, because, having read accounts of the terrible atrocities of the Spaniards in the western lands, he determined to leave his home and his family, and become a buccaneer, in order that he might do what he could for the suffering natives in the Spanish possessions. He entered into the great work which he had planned for himself with such enthusiasm and zeal, that in the course of time he came to be known as "The Exterminator," and if there had been more people of his philanthropic turn of mind, there would soon have been no inhabitants whatever upon the islands from which the Spaniards had driven out the Indians. There was another person of that day,--also a Frenchman,--who became deeply involved in debt in his own country, and feeling that the principles of honor forbade him to live upon and enjoy what was really the property of others, he made up his mind to sail across the Atlantic, and become a buccaneer. He hoped that if he should be successful in his new profession, and should be enabled to rob Spaniards for a term of years, he could return to France, pay off all his debts, and afterward live the life of a man of honor and respectability. Other ideas which the buccaneers brought with them from their native countries soon showed themselves when these daring sailors began their lives as regular pirates; among these, the idea of organization was very prominent. Of course it was hard to get a number of free and untrammelled crews to unite and obey the commands of a few officers. But in time the buccaneers had recognized leaders, and laws were made for concerted action. In consequence of this the buccaneers became a formidable body of men, sometimes superior to the Spanish naval and military forces. It must be remembered that the buccaneers lived in a very peculiar age. So far as the history of America is concerned, it might be called the age of blood and gold. In the newly discovered countries there were no laws which European nations or individuals cared to observe. In the West Indies and the adjacent mainlands there were gold and silver, and there were also valuable products of other kinds, and when the Spaniards sailed to their part of the new world, these treasures were the things for which they came. The natives were weak and not able to defend themselves. All the Spaniards had to do was to take what they could find, and when they could not find enough they made the poor Indians find it for them. Here was a part of the world, and an age of the world, wherein it was the custom for men to do what they pleased, provided they felt themselves strong enough, and it was not to be supposed that any one European nation could expect a monopoly of this state of mind. Therefore it was that while the Spaniards robbed and ruined the natives of the lands they discovered, the English, French, and Dutch buccaneers robbed the robbers. Great vessels were sent out from Spain, carrying nothing in the way of merchandise to America, but returning with all the precious metals and valuable products of the newly discovered regions, which could in any way be taken from the unfortunate natives. The gold mines of the new world had long been worked, and yielded handsome revenues, but the native method of operating them did not satisfy the Spaniards, who forced the poor Indians to labor incessantly at the difficult task of digging out the precious metals, until many of them died under the cruel oppression. Sometimes the Indians were kept six months under ground, working in the mines; and at one time, when it was found that the natives had died off, or had fled from the neighborhood of some of the rich gold deposits, it was proposed to send to Africa and get a cargo of negroes to work the mines. Now it is easy to see that all this made buccaneering a very tempting occupation. To capture a great treasure ship, after the Spaniards had been at so much trouble to load it, was a grand thing, according to the pirate's point of view, and although it often required reckless bravery and almost superhuman energy to accomplish the feats necessary in this dangerous vocation, these were qualities which were possessed by nearly all the sea-robbers of our coast; the stories of some of the most interesting of these wild and desperate fellows,--men who did not combine piracy with discoveries and explorations, but who were out-and-out sea-robbers, and gained in that way all the reputation they ever possessed,--will be told in subsequent chapters. Chapter IV Peter the Great Very prominent among the early regular buccaneers was a Frenchman who came to be called Peter the Great. This man seems to have been one of those adventurers who were not buccaneers in the earlier sense of the word (by which I mean they were not traders who touched at Spanish settlements to procure cattle and hides, and who were prepared to fight any Spaniards who might interfere with them), but they were men who came from Europe on purpose to prey upon Spanish possessions, whether on land or sea. Some of them made a rough sort of settlement on the island of Tortuga, and then it was that Peter the Great seems to have come into prominence. He gathered about him a body of adherents, but although he had a great reputation as an individual pirate, it seems to have been a good while before he achieved any success as a leader. The fortunes of Peter and his men must have been at a pretty low ebb when they found themselves cruising in a large, canoe-shaped boat not far from the island of Hispaniola. There were twenty-nine of them in all, and they were not able to procure a vessel suitable for their purpose. They had been a long time floating about in an aimless way, hoping to see some Spanish merchant-vessel which they might attack and possibly capture, but no such vessel appeared. Their provisions began to give out, the men were hungry, discontented, and grumbling. In fact, they were in almost as bad a condition as were the sailors of Columbus just before they discovered signs of land, after their long and weary voyage across the Atlantic. When Peter and his men were almost on the point of despair, they perceived, far away upon the still waters, a large ship. With a great jump, hope sprang up in the breast of every man. They seized the oars and pulled in the direction of the distant craft. But when they were near enough, they saw that the vessel was not a merchantman, probably piled with gold and treasure, but a man-of-war belonging to the Spanish fleet. In fact, it was the vessel of the vice-admiral. This was an astonishing and disheartening state of things. It was very much as if a lion, hearing the approach of probable prey, had sprung from the thicket where he had been concealed, and had beheld before him, not a fine, fat deer, but an immense and scrawny elephant. But the twenty-nine buccaneers in the crew were very hungry. They had not come out upon those waters to attack men-of-war, but, more than that, they had not come out to perish by hunger and thirst. There could be no doubt that there was plenty to eat and to drink on that tall Spanish vessel, and if they could not get food and water they could not live more than a day or two longer. Under the circumstances it was not long before Peter the Great made up his mind that if his men would stand by him, he would endeavor to capture that Spanish war-vessel; when he put the question to his crew they all swore that they would follow him and obey his orders as long as life was left in their bodies. To attack a vessel armed with cannon, and manned by a crew very much larger than their little party, seemed almost like throwing themselves upon certain death. But still, there was a chance that in some way they might get the better of the Spaniards; whereas, if they rowed away again into the solitudes of the ocean, they would give up all chance of saving themselves from death by starvation. Steadily, therefore, they pulled toward the Spanish vessel, and slowly--for there was but little wind--she approached them. The people in the man-of-war did not fail to perceive the little boat far out on the ocean, and some of them sent to the captain and reported the fact. The news, however, did not interest him, for he was engaged in playing cards in his cabin, and it was not until an hour afterward that he consented to come on deck and look out toward the boat which had been sighted, and which was now much nearer. Taking a good look at the boat, and perceiving that it was nothing more than a canoe, the captain laughed at the advice of some of his officers, who thought it would be well to fire a few cannon-shot and sink the little craft. The captain thought it would be a useless proceeding. He did not know anything about the people in the boat, and he did not very much care, but he remarked that if they should come near enough, it might be a good thing to put out some tackle and haul them and their boat on deck, after which they might be examined and questioned whenever it should suit his convenience. Then he went down to his cards. If Peter the Great and his men could have been sure that if they were to row alongside the Spanish vessel they would have been quietly hauled on deck and examined, they would have been delighted at the opportunity. With cutlasses, pistols, and knives, they were more than ready to demonstrate to the Spaniards what sort of fellows they were, and the captain would have found hungry pirates uncomfortable persons to question. But it seemed to Peter and his crew a very difficult thing indeed to get themselves on board the man-of-war, so they curbed their ardor and enthusiasm, and waited until nightfall before approaching nearer. As soon as it became dark enough they slowly and quietly paddled toward the great ship, which was now almost becalmed. There were no lights in the boat, and the people on the deck of the vessel saw and heard nothing on the dark waters around them. When they were very near the man-of-war, the captain of the buccaneers--according to the ancient accounts of this adventure--ordered his chirurgeon, or surgeon, to bore a large hole in the bottom of their canoe. It is probable that this officer, with his saws and other surgical instruments, was expected to do carpenter work when there were no duties for him to perform in the regular line of his profession. At any rate, he went to work, and noiselessly bored the hole. This remarkable proceeding showed the desperate character of these pirates. A great, almost impossible task was before them, and nothing but absolute recklessness could enable them to succeed. If his men should meet with strong opposition from the Spaniards in the proposed attack, and if any of them should become frightened and try to retreat to the boat, Peter knew that all would be lost, and consequently he determined to make it impossible for any man to get away in that boat. If they could not conquer the Spanish vessel they must die on her decks. When the half-sunken canoe touched the sides of the vessel, the pirates, seizing every rope or projection on which they could lay their hands, climbed up the sides of the man-of-war, as if they had been twenty-nine cats, and springing over the rail, dashed upon the sailors who were on deck. These men were utterly stupefied and astounded. They had seen nothing, they had heard nothing, and all of a sudden they were confronted with savage fellows with cutlasses and pistols. Some of the crew looked over the sides to see where these strange visitors had come from, but they saw nothing, for the canoe had gone to the bottom. Then they were filled with a superstitious horror, believing that the wild visitors were devils who had dropped from the sky, for there seemed no other place from which they could come. Making no attempt to defend themselves, the sailors, wild with terror, tumbled below and hid themselves, without even giving an alarm. The Spanish captain was still playing cards, and whether he was winning or losing, the old historians do not tell us, but very suddenly a newcomer took a hand in the game. This was Peter the Great, and he played the ace of trumps. With a great pistol in his hand, he called upon the Spanish captain to surrender. That noble commander glanced around. There was a savage pirate holding a pistol at the head of each of the officers at the table. He threw up his cards. The trick was won by Peter and his men. The rest of the game was easy enough. When the pirates spread themselves over the vessel, the frightened crew got out of sight as well as they could. Some, who attempted to seize their arms in order to defend themselves, were ruthlessly cut down or shot, and when the hatches had been securely fastened upon the sailors who had fled below, Peter the Great was captain and owner of that tall Spanish man-of-war. It is quite certain that the first thing these pirates did to celebrate their victory was to eat a rousing good supper, and then they took charge of the vessel, and sailed her triumphantly over the waters on which, not many hours before, they had feared that a little boat would soon be floating, filled with their emaciated bodies. This most remarkable success of Peter the Great worked a great change, of course, in the circumstances of himself and his men. But it worked a greater change in the career, and possibly in the character of the captain. He was now a very rich man, and all his followers had plenty of money. The Spanish vessel was amply supplied with provisions, and there was also on board a great quantity of gold bullion, which was to be shipped to Spain. In fact, Peter and his men had booty enough to satisfy any sensible pirate. Now we all know that sensible pirates, and people in any sphere of life who are satisfied when they have enough, are very rare indeed, and therefore it is not a little surprising that the bold buccaneer, whose story we are now telling, should have proved that he merited, in a certain way, the title his companions had given him. Sailing his prize to the shores of Hispaniola, Peter put on shore all the Spaniards whose services he did not desire. The rest of his prisoners he compelled to help his men work the ship, and then, without delay, he sailed away to France, and there he retired entirely from the business of piracy, and set himself up as a gentleman of wealth and leisure. Chapter V The Story of a Pearl Pirate The ordinary story of the pirate, or the wicked man in general, no matter how successful he may have been in his criminal career, nearly always ends disastrously, and in that way points a moral which doubtless has a good effect on a large class of people, who would be very glad to do wrong, provided no harm was likely to come to them in consequence. But the story of Peter the Great, which we have just told, contains no such moral. In fact, its influence upon the adventurers of that period was most unwholesome. When the wonderful success of Peter the Great became known, the buccaneering community at Tortuga was wildly excited. Every bushy-bearded fellow who could get possession of a small boat, and induce a score of other bushy-bearded fellows to follow him, wanted to start out and capture a rich Spanish galleon, as the great ships, used alike for war and commerce, were then called. But not only were the French and English sailors and traders who had become buccaneers excited and stimulated by the remarkable good fortune of their companion, but many people of adventurous mind, who had never thought of leaving England for purposes of piracy, now became firmly convinced that there was no business which promised better than that of a buccaneer, and some of them crossed the ocean for the express purpose of getting rich by capturing Spanish vessels homeward bound. As there were not enough suitable vessels in Tortuga for the demands of the recently stimulated industry, the buccaneer settlers went to other parts of the West Indies to obtain suitable craft, and it is related that in about a month after the great victory of Peter the Great, two large Spanish vessels, loaded with silver bullion, and two other heavily laden merchantmen were brought into Tortuga by the buccaneers. One of the adventurers who set out about this time on a cruise after gold-laden vessels, was a Frenchman who was known to his countrymen as Pierre François, and to the English as Peter Francis. He was a good sailor, and ready for any sort of a sea-fight, but for a long time he cruised about without seeing anything which it was worth while to attempt to capture. At last, when his provisions began to give out, and his men became somewhat discontented, Pierre made up his mind that rather than return to Tortuga empty-handed, he would make a bold and novel stroke for fortune. At the mouth of one of the large rivers of the mainland the Spaniards had established a pearl fishery,--for there was no kind of wealth or treasure, on the land, under ground, or at the bottom of the sea, that the Spaniards did not get if it were possible for them to do so. Every year, at the proper season, a dozen or more vessels came to this pearl-bank, attended by a man-of-war to protect them from molestation. Pierre knew all about this, and as he could not find any Spanish merchantmen to rob, he thought he would go down and see what he could do with the pearl-fishers. This was something the buccaneers had not yet attempted, but no one knows what he can do until he tries, and it was very necessary that this buccaneer captain should try something immediately. When he reached the coast near the mouth of the river, he took the masts out of his little vessel, and rowed quietly toward the pearl-fishing fleet, as if he had intended to join them on some entirely peaceable errand; and, in fact, there was no reason whatever why the Spaniards should suppose that a boat full of buccaneers should be rowing along that part of the coast. The pearl-fishing vessels were all at anchor, and the people on board were quietly attending to their business. Out at sea, some distance from the mouth of the river, the man-of-war was lying becalmed. The native divers who went down to the bottom of the sea to bring up the shellfish which contained the pearls, plunged into the water, and came up wet and shining in the sun, with no fear whatever of any sharks which might be swimming about in search of a dinner, and the people on the vessels opened the oysters and carefully searched for pearls, feeling as safe from harm as if they were picking olives in their native groves. But something worse than a shark was quietly making its way over those tranquil waters, and no banditti who ever descended from Spanish mountains upon the quiet peasants of a village, equalled in ferocity the savage fellows who were crouching in the little boat belonging to Pierre of Tortuga. This innocent-looking craft, which the pearl-fishers probably thought was loaded with fruit or vegetables which somebody from the mainland desired to sell, was permitted, without being challenged or interfered with, to row up alongside the largest vessel of the fleet, on which there were some armed men and a few cannon. As soon as Pierre's boat touched the Spanish vessel, the buccaneers sprang on board with their pistols and cutlasses, and a savage fight began. The Spaniards were surprised, but there were a great many more of them than there were pirates, and they fought hard. However, the man who makes the attack, and who is at the same time desperate and hungry, has a great advantage, and it was not long before the buccaneers were masters of the vessel. Those of the Spaniards who were not killed, were forced into the service of their captors, and Pierre found himself in command of a very good vessel. Now it so happened that the man-of-war was so far away that she knew nothing of this fight on board one of the fleet which she was there to watch, and if she had known of it, she would not have been able to give any assistance, for there was no wind by which she could sail to the mouth of the river. Therefore, so far as she was concerned, Pierre considered himself safe. But although he had captured a Spanish ship, he was not so foolish as to haul down her flag, and run up his own in her place. He had had very good success so far, but he was not satisfied. It was quite probable that there was a rich store of pearls on board the vessel he had taken, but on the other vessels of the fleet there were many more pearls, and these he wanted if he could get them. In fact, he conceived the grand idea of capturing the whole fleet. But it would be impossible for Pierre to attempt anything on such a magnificent scale until he had first disposed of the man-of-war, and as he had now a good strong ship, with a much larger crew than that with which he had set out,--for the Spanish prisoners would be obliged to man the guns and help in every way to fight their countrymen,--Pierre determined to attack the man-of-war. A land wind began to blow, which enabled him to make very fair headway out to sea. The Spanish colors were flying from his topmast, and he hoped to be able, without being suspected of any evil designs, to get so near to the man-of-war that he might run alongside and boldly board her. But something now happened which Pierre could not have expected. When the commander of the war-vessel perceived that one of the fleet under his charge was leaving her companions and putting out to sea, he could imagine no reason for such extraordinary conduct, except that she was taking advantage of the fact that the wind had not yet reached his vessel, and was trying to run away with the pearls she had on board. From these ready suspicions we may imagine that, at that time, the robbers who robbed robbers were not all buccaneers. Soon after the Spanish captain perceived that one of his fleet was making his way out of the river, the wind reached his vessel, and he immediately set all sail and started in pursuit of the rascals, whom he supposed to be his dishonest countrymen. The breeze freshened rapidly, and when Pierre and his men saw that the man-of-war was coming toward them at a good rate of speed, showing plainly that she had suspicions of them, they gave up all hope of running alongside of her and boarding her, and concluded that the best thing they could do would be to give up their plan of capturing the pearl-fishing fleet, and get away with the ship they had taken, and whatever it had on board. So they set all sail, and there was a fine sea-chase. The now frightened buccaneers were too anxious to get away. They not only put on all the sail which the vessel could carry, but they put on more. The wind blew harder, and suddenly down came the mainmast with a crash. This stopped the chase, and the next act in the performance would have to be a sea-fight. Pierre and his buccaneers were good at that sort of thing, and when the man-of-war came up, there was a terrible time on board those two vessels. But the Spaniards were the stronger, and the buccaneers were defeated. There must have been something in the daring courage of this Frenchman and his little band of followers, which gave him favor in the eyes of the Spanish captain, for there was no other reason for the good treatment which the buccaneers received. They were not put to the sword nor thrown overboard, not sent on shore and made to work as slaves,--three very common methods of treating prisoners in those days. But they were all set free, and put on land, where they might go where they pleased. This unfortunate result of the bold enterprise undertaken by Pierre François was deeply deplored, not only at Tortuga, but in England and in France. If this bold buccaneer had captured the pearl fleet, it would have been a victory that would have made a hero of him on each side of the Atlantic, but had he even been able to get away with the one vessel he had seized, he would have been a rich man, and might have retired to a life of ease and affluence; the vessel he had captured proved to be one of the richest laden of the whole fleet, and not only in the heart of Pierre and his men, but among his sympathizers in Europe and America, there was great disappointment at the loss of that mainmast, which, until it cracked, was carrying him forward to fame and fortune. Chapter VI The Surprising Adventures of Bartholemy Portuguez As we have seen that the buccaneers were mainly English, French, and Dutch sailors, who were united to make a common piratical warfare upon the Spaniards in the West Indies, it may seem a little strange to find a man from Portugal who seemed to be on the wrong side of this peculiar fight which was going on in the new world between the sailors of Northern and Southern Europe. But although Portugal is such a close neighbor of Spain, the two countries have often been at war with each other, and their interests are by no means the same. The only advantage that Portugal could expect from the newly discovered treasures of the West were those which her seafaring men, acting with the seafaring men of other nations, should wrest from Spanish vessels homeward bound. Consequently, there were Portuguese among the pirates of those days. Among these was a man named Bartholemy Portuguez, a famous _flibustier_. It may be here remarked that the name of buccaneer was chiefly affected by the English adventurers on our coast, while the French members of the profession often preferred the name of "flibustier." This word, which has since been corrupted into our familiar "filibuster," is said to have been originally a corruption, being nothing more than the French method of pronouncing the word "freebooters," which title had long been used for independent robbers. Thus, although Bartholemy called himself a flibustier, he was really a buccaneer, and his name came to be known all over the Caribbean Sea. From the accounts we have of him it appears that he did not start out on his career of piracy as a poor man. He had some capital to invest in the business, and when he went over to the West Indies he took with him a small ship, armed with four small cannon, and manned by a crew of picked men, many of them no doubt professional robbers, and the others anxious for practice in this most alluring vocation, for the gold fields of California were never more attractive to the bold and hardy adventurers of our country, than were the gold fields of the sea to the buccaneers and flibustiers of the seventeenth century. When Bartholemy reached the Caribbean Sea he probably first touched at Tortuga, the pirates' headquarters, and then sailed out very much as if he had been a fisherman going forth to see what he could catch on the sea. He cruised about on the track generally taken by treasure ships going from the mainland to the Havanas, or the island of Hispaniola, and when at last he sighted a vessel in the distance, it was not long before he and his men had made up their minds that if they were to have any sport that day it would be with what might be called most decidedly a game fish, for the ship slowly sailing toward them was a large Spanish vessel, and from her portholes there protruded the muzzles of at least twenty cannon. Of course, they knew that such a vessel would have a much larger crew than their own, and, altogether, Bartholemy was very much in the position of a man who should go out to harpoon a sturgeon, and who should find himself confronted by a vicious swordfish. The Spanish merchantmen of that day were generally well armed, for getting home safely across the Atlantic was often the most difficult part of the treasure-seeking. There were many of these ships, which, although they did not belong to the Spanish navy, might almost be designated as men-of-war; and it was one of these with which our flibustier had now met. But pirates and fishermen cannot afford to pick and choose. They must take what comes to them and make the best of it, and this is exactly the way in which the matter presented itself to Bartholemy and his men. They held one of their councils around the mast, and after an address from their leader, they decided that come what may, they must attack that Spanish vessel. So the little pirate sailed boldly toward the big Spaniard, and the latter vessel, utterly astonished at the audacity of this attack,--for the pirates' flag was flying,--lay to, head to the wind, and waited, the gunners standing by their cannon. When the pirates had come near enough to see and understand the size and power of the vessel they had thought of attacking, they did not, as might have been expected, put about and sail away at the best of their vessel's speed, but they kept straight on their course as if they had been about to fall upon a great, unwieldy merchantman, manned by common sailors. Perceiving the foolhardiness of the little vessel, the Spanish commander determined to give it a lesson which would teach its captain to understand better the relative power of great vessels and little ones, so, as soon as the pirates' vessel was near enough, he ordered a broadside fired upon it. The Spanish ship had a great many people on board. It had a crew of seventy men, and besides these there were some passengers, and regular marines, and knowing that the captain had determined to fire upon the approaching vessel, everybody had gathered on deck to see the little pirate ship go down. But the ten great cannon-balls which were shot out at Bartholemy's little craft all missed their aim, and before the guns could be reloaded or the great ship be got around so as to deliver her other broadside, the pirate vessel was alongside of her. Bartholemy had fired none of his cannon. Such guns were useless against so huge a foe. What he was after was a hand-to-hand combat on the deck of the Spanish ship. The pirates were all ready for hot work. They had thrown aside their coats and shirts as if each of them were going into a prize fight, and, with their cutlasses in their hands, and their pistols and knives in their belts, they scrambled like monkeys up the sides of the great ship. But Spaniards are brave men and good fighters, and there were more than twice as many of them as there were of the pirates, and it was not long before the latter found out that they could not capture that vessel by boarding it. So over the side they tumbled as fast as they could go, leaving some of their number dead and wounded behind them. They jumped into their own vessel, and then they put off to a short distance to take breath and get ready for a different kind of a fight. The triumphant Spaniards now prepared to get rid of this boat load of half-naked wild beasts, which they could easily do if they should take better aim with their cannon than they had done before. But to their amazement they soon found that they could do nothing with the guns, nor were they able to work their ship so as to get it into position for effectual shots. Bartholemy and his men laid aside their cutlasses and their pistols, and took up their muskets, with which they were well provided. Their vessel lay within a very short range of the Spanish ship, and whenever a man could be seen through the portholes, or showed himself in the rigging or anywhere else where it was necessary to go in order to work the ship, he made himself a target for the good aim of the pirates. The pirate vessel could move about as it pleased, for it required but a few men to manage it, and so it kept out of the way of the Spanish guns, and its best marksmen, crouching close to the deck, fired and fired whenever a Spanish head was to be seen. For five long hours this unequal contest was kept up. It might have reminded one of a man with a slender rod and a long, delicate line, who had hooked a big salmon. The man could not pull in the salmon, but, on the other hand, the salmon could not hurt the man, and in the course of time the big fish would be tired out, and the man would get out his landing-net and scoop him in. Now Bartholemy thought he could scoop in the Spanish vessel. So many of her men had been shot that the two crews would be more nearly equal. So, boldly, he ran his vessel alongside the big ship and again boarded her. Now there was another great fight on the decks. The Spaniards had ceased to be triumphant, but they had become desperate, and in the furious combat ten of the pirates were killed and four wounded. But the Spaniards fared worse than that; more than half of the men who had not been shot by the pirates went down before their cutlasses and pistols, and it was not long before Bartholemy had captured the great Spanish ship. It was a fearful and a bloody victory he had gained. A great part of his own men were lying dead or helpless on the deck, and of the Spaniards only forty were left alive, and these, it appears from the accounts, must have been nearly all wounded or disabled. It was a common habit among the buccaneers, as well as among the Spaniards, to kill all prisoners who were not able to work for them, but Bartholemy does not seem to have arrived at the stage of depravity necessary for this. So he determined not to kill his prisoners, but he put them all into a boat and let them go where they pleased; while he was left with fifteen men to work a great vessel which required a crew of five times that number. But the men who could conquer and capture a ship against such enormous odds, felt themselves fully capable of working her, even with their little crew. Before doing anything in the way of navigation they cleared the decks of the dead bodies, taking from them all watches, trinkets, and money, and then went below to see what sort of a prize they had gained. They found it a very good one indeed. There were seventy-five thousand crowns in money, besides a cargo of cocoa worth five thousand more, and this, combined with the value of the ship and all its fittings, was a great fortune for those days. When the victorious pirates had counted their gains and had mended the sails and rigging of their new ship, they took what they wanted out of their own vessel, and left her to sink or to float as she pleased, and then they sailed away in the direction of the island of Jamaica. But the winds did not suit them, and, as their crew was so very small, they could not take advantage of light breezes as they could have done if they had had men enough. Consequently they were obliged to stop to get water before they reached the friendly vicinity of Jamaica. They cast anchor at Cape St. Anthony on the west end of Cuba. After a considerable delay at this place they started out again to resume their voyage, but it was not long before they perceived, to their horror, three Spanish vessels coming towards them. It was impossible for a very large ship, manned by an extremely small crew, to sail away from those fully equipped vessels, and as to attempting to defend themselves against the overwhelming power of the antagonists, that was too absurd to be thought of even by such a reckless fellow as Bartholemy. So, when the ship was hailed by the Spanish vessels he lay to and waited until a boat's crew boarded him. With the eye of a nautical man the Spanish captain of one of the ships perceived that something was the matter with this vessel, for its sails and rigging were terribly cut up in the long fight through which it had passed, and of course he wanted to know what had happened. When he found that the great ship was in the possession of a very small body of pirates, Bartholemy and his men were immediately made prisoners, taken on board the Spanish ship, stripped of everything they possessed, even their clothes, and shut up in the hold. A crew from the Spanish ships was sent to man the vessel which had been captured, and then the little fleet set sail for San Francisco in Campeachy. An hour had worked a very great change in the fortunes of Bartholemy and his men; in the fine cabin of their grand prize they had feasted and sung, and had gloried over their wonderful success, and now, in the vessel of their captor, they were shut up in the dark, to be enslaved or perhaps executed. But it is not likely that any one of them either despaired or repented; these are sentiments very little in use by pirates. Chapter VII The Pirate who could not Swim When the little fleet of Spanish vessels, including the one which had been captured by Bartholemy Portuguez and his men, were on their way to Campeachy, they met with very stormy weather so that they were separated, and the ship which contained Bartholemy and his companions arrived first at the port for which they were bound. The captain, who had Bartholemy and the others in charge, did not know what an important capture he had made; he supposed that these pirates were ordinary buccaneers, and it appears that it was his intention to keep them as his own private prisoners, for, as they were all very able-bodied men, they would be extremely useful on a ship. But when his vessel was safely moored, and it became known in the town that he had a company of pirates on board, a great many people came from shore to see these savage men, who were probably looked upon very much as if they were a menagerie of wild beasts brought from foreign lands. Among the sightseers who came to the ship was a merchant of the town who had seen Bartholemy before, and who had heard of his various exploits. He therefore went to the captain of the vessel and informed him that he had on board one of the very worst pirates in the whole world, whose wicked deeds were well known in various parts of the West Indies, and who ought immediately to be delivered up to the civil authorities. This proposal, however, met with no favor from the Spanish captain, who had found Bartholemy a very quiet man, and could see that he was a very strong one, and he did not at all desire to give up such a valuable addition to his crew. But the merchant grew very angry, for he knew that Bartholemy had inflicted great injury on Spanish commerce, and as the captain would not listen to him, he went to the Governor of the town and reported the case. When this dignitary heard the story he immediately sent a party of officers to the ship, and commanded the captain to deliver the pirate leader into their charge. The other men were left where they were, but Bartholemy was taken away and confined in another ship. The merchant, who seemed to know a great deal about him, informed the authorities that this terrible pirate had been captured several times, but that he had always managed to escape, and, therefore, he was put in irons, and preparations were made to execute him on the next day; for, from what he had heard, the Governor considered that this pirate was no better than a wild beast, and that he should be put to death without even the formality of a trial. But there was a Spanish soldier on board the ship who seemed to have had some pity, or perhaps some admiration, for the daring pirate, and he thought that if he were to be hung the next day it was no more than right to let him know it, so that when he went in to take some food to Bartholemy he told him what was to happen. Now this pirate captain was a man who always wanted to have a share in what was to happen, and he immediately racked his brain to find out what he could do in this case. He had never been in a more desperate situation, but he did not lose heart, and immediately set to work to free himself from his irons, which were probably very clumsy affairs. At last, caring little how much he scratched and tore his skin, he succeeded in getting rid of his fetters, and could move about as freely as a tiger in a cage. To get out of this cage was Bartholemy's first object. It would be comparatively easy, because in the course of time some one would come into the hold, and the athletic buccaneer thought that he could easily get the better of whoever might open the hatch. But the next act in this truly melodramatic performance would be a great deal more difficult; for in order to escape from the ship it would be absolutely necessary for Bartholemy to swim to shore, and he did not know how to swim, which seems a strange failing in a hardy sailor with so many other nautical accomplishments. In the rough hold where he was shut up, our pirate, peering about, anxious and earnest, discovered two large, earthen jars in which wine had been brought from Spain, and with these he determined to make a sort of life-preserver. He found some pieces of oiled cloth, which he tied tightly over the open mouths of the jars and fastened them with cords. He was satisfied that this unwieldy contrivance would support him in the water. Among other things he had found in his rummagings about the hold was an old knife, and with this in his hand he now sat waiting for a good opportunity to attack his sentinel. This came soon after nightfall. A man descended with a lantern to see that the prisoner was still secure,--let us hope that it was not the soldier who had kindly informed him of his fate,--and as soon as he was fairly in the hold Bartholemy sprang upon him. There was a fierce struggle, but the pirate was quick and powerful, and the sentinel was soon dead. Then, carrying his two jars, Bartholemy climbed swiftly and noiselessly up the short ladder, came out on deck in the darkness, made a rush toward the side of the ship, and leaped overboard. For a moment he sank below the surface, but the two air-tight jars quickly rose and bore him up with them. There was a bustle on board the ship, there was some random firing of muskets in the direction of the splashing which the watch had heard, but none of the balls struck the pirate or his jars, and he soon floated out of sight and hearing. Kicking out with his legs, and paddling as well as he could with one hand while he held on to the jars with the other, he at last managed to reach the land, and ran as fast as he could into the dark woods beyond the town. Bartholemy was now greatly in fear that, when his escape was discovered, he would be tracked by bloodhounds,--for these dogs were much used by the Spaniards in pursuing escaping slaves or prisoners,--and he therefore did not feel safe in immediately making his way along the coast, which was what he wished to do. If the hounds should get upon his trail, he was a lost man. The desperate pirate, therefore, determined to give the bloodhounds no chance to follow him, and for three days he remained in a marshy forest, in the dark recesses of which he could hide, and where the water, which covered the ground, prevented the dogs from following his scent. He had nothing to eat except a few roots of water-plants, but he was accustomed to privation, and these kept him alive. Often he heard the hounds baying on the dry land adjoining the marsh, and sometimes he saw at night distant torches, which he was sure were carried by men who were hunting for him. But at last the pursuit seemed to be given up; and hearing no more dogs and seeing no more flickering lights, Bartholemy left the marsh and set out on his long journey down the coast. The place he wished to reach was called Golpho Triste, which was forty leagues away, but where he had reason to suppose he would find some friends. When he came out from among the trees, he mounted a small hill and looked back upon the town. The public square was lighted, and there in the middle of it he saw the gallows which had been erected for his execution, and this sight, doubtless, animated him very much during the first part of his journey. The terrible trials and hardships which Bartholemy experienced during his tramp along the coast were such as could have been endured only by one of the strongest and toughest of men. He had found in the marsh an old gourd, or calabash, which he had filled with fresh water,--for he could expect nothing but sea-water during his journey,--and as for solid food he had nothing but the raw shellfish which he found upon the rocks; but after a diet of roots, shellfish must have been a very agreeable change, and they gave him all the strength and vigor he needed. Very often he found streams and inlets which he was obliged to ford, and as he could see that they were always filled with alligators, the passage of them was not very pleasant. His method of getting across one of these narrow streams, was to hurl rocks into the water until he had frightened away the alligators immediately in front of him, and then, when he had made for himself what seemed to be a free passage, he would dash in and hurry across. At other times great forests stretched down to the very coast, and through these he was obliged to make his way, although he could hear the roars and screams of wild beasts all about him. Any one who is afraid to go down into a dark cellar to get some apples from a barrel at the foot of the stairs, can have no idea of the sort of mind possessed by Bartholemy Portuguez. The animals might howl around him and glare at him with their shining eyes, and the alligators might lash the water into foam with their great tails, but he was bound for Golpho Triste and was not to be stopped on his way by anything alive. But at last he came to something not alive, which seemed to be an obstacle which would certainly get the better of him. This was a wide river, flowing through the inland country into the sea. He made his way up the shore of this river for a considerable distance, but it grew but little narrower, and he could see no chance of getting across. He could not swim and he had no wine-jars now with which to buoy himself up, and if he had been able to swim he would probably have been eaten up by alligators soon after he left the shore. But a man in his situation would not be likely to give up readily; he had done so much that he was ready to do more if he could only find out what to do. Now a piece of good fortune happened to him, although to an ordinary traveller it might have been considered a matter of no importance whatever. On the edge of the shore, where it had floated down from some region higher up the river, Bartholemy perceived an old board, in which there were some long and heavy rusty nails. Greatly encouraged by this discovery the indefatigable traveller set about a work which resembled that of the old woman who wanted a needle, and who began to rub a crow-bar on a stone in order to reduce it to the proper size. Bartholemy carefully knocked all the nails out of the board, and then finding a large flat stone, he rubbed down one of them until he had formed it into the shape of a rude knife blade, which he made as sharp as he could. Then with these tools he undertook the construction of a raft, working away like a beaver, and using the sharpened nails instead of his teeth. He cut down a number of small trees, and when he had enough of these slender trunks he bound them together with reeds and osiers, which he found on the river bank. So, after infinite labor and trial he constructed a raft which would bear him on the surface of the water. When he had launched this he got upon it, gathering up his legs so as to keep out of reach of the alligators, and with a long pole pushed himself off from shore. Sometimes paddling and sometimes pushing his pole against the bottom, he at last got across the river and took up his journey upon dry land. But our pirate had not progressed very far upon the other side of the river before he met with a new difficulty of a very formidable character. This was a great forest of mangrove trees, which grow in muddy and watery places and which have many roots, some coming down from the branches, and some extending themselves in a hopeless tangle in the water and mud. It would have been impossible for even a stork to walk through this forest, but as there was no way of getting around it Bartholemy determined to go through it, even if he could not walk. No athlete of the present day, no matter if he should be a most accomplished circus-man, could reasonably expect to perform the feat which this bold pirate successfully accomplished. For five or six leagues he went through that mangrove forest, never once setting his foot upon the ground,--by which is meant mud, water, and roots,--but swinging himself by his hands and arms, from branch to branch, as if he had been a great ape, only resting occasionally, drawing himself upon a stout limb where he might sit for a while and get his breath. If he had slipped while he was swinging from one limb to another and had gone down into the mire and roots beneath him, it is likely that he would never have been able to get out alive. But he made no slips. He might not have had the agility and grace of a trapeze performer, but his grasp was powerful and his arms were strong, and so he swung and clutched, and clutched and swung, until he had gone entirely through the forest and had come out on the open coast. Chapter VIII How Bartholemy rested Himself It was full two weeks from the time that Bartholemy began his most adventurous and difficult journey before he reached the little town of Golpho Triste, where, as he had hoped, he found some of his buccaneer friends. Now that his hardships and dangers were over, and when, instead of roots and shellfish, he could sit down to good, plentiful meals, and stretch himself upon a comfortable bed, it might have been supposed that Bartholemy would have given himself a long rest, but this hardy pirate had no desire for a vacation at this time. Instead of being worn out and exhausted by his amazing exertions and semi-starvation, he arrived among his friends vigorous and energetic and exceedingly anxious to recommence business as soon as possible. He told them of all that had happened to him, what wonderful good fortune had come to him, and what terrible bad fortune had quickly followed it, and when he had related his adventures and his dangers he astonished even his piratical friends by asking them to furnish him with a small vessel and about twenty men, in order that he might go back and revenge himself, not only for what had happened to him, but for what would have happened if he had not taken his affairs into his own hands. To do daring and astounding deeds is part of the business of a pirate, and although it was an uncommonly bold enterprise that Bartholemy contemplated, he got his vessel and he got his men, and away he sailed. After a voyage of about eight days he came in sight of the little seaport town, and sailing slowly along the coast, he waited until nightfall before entering the harbor. Anchored at a considerable distance from shore was the great Spanish ship on which he had been a prisoner, and from which he would have been taken and hung in the public square; the sight of the vessel filled his soul with a savage fury known only to pirates and bull dogs. As the little vessel slowly approached the great ship, the people on board the latter thought it was a trading-vessel from shore, and allowed it to come alongside, such small craft seldom coming from the sea. But the moment Bartholemy reached the ship he scrambled up its side almost as rapidly as he had jumped down from it with his two wine-jars a few weeks before, and every one of his crew, leaving their own vessel to take care of itself, scrambled up after him. Nobody on board was prepared to defend the ship. It was the same old story; resting quietly in a peaceful harbor, what danger had they to expect? As usual the pirates had everything their own way; they were ready to fight, and the others were not, and they were led by a man who was determined to take that ship without giving even a thought to the ordinary alternative of dying in the attempt. The affair was more of a massacre than a combat, and there were people on board who did not know what was taking place until the vessel had been captured. As soon as Bartholemy was master of the great vessel he gave orders to slip the cable and hoist the sails, for he was anxious to get out of that harbor as quickly as possible. The fight had apparently attracted no attention in the town, but there were ships in the port whose company the bold buccaneer did not at all desire, and as soon as possible he got his grand prize under way and went sailing out of the port. Now, indeed, was Bartholemy triumphant; the ship he had captured was a finer one and a richer one than that other vessel which had been taken from him. It was loaded with valuable merchandise, and we may here remark that for some reason or other all Spanish vessels of that day which were so unfortunate as to be taken by pirates, seemed to be richly laden. If our bold pirate had sung wild pirate songs, as he passed the flowing bowl while carousing with his crew in the cabin of the Spanish vessel he had first captured, he now sang wilder songs, and passed more flowing bowls, for this prize was a much greater one than the first. If Bartholemy could have communicated his great good fortune to the other buccaneers in the West Indies, there would have been a boom in piracy which would have threatened great danger to the honesty and integrity of the seafaring men of that region. But nobody, not even a pirate, has any way of finding out what is going to happen next, and if Bartholemy had had an idea of the fluctuations which were about to occur in the market in which he had made his investments he would have been in a great hurry to sell all his stock very much below par. The fluctuations referred to occurred on the ocean, near the island of Pinos, and came in the shape of great storm waves, which blew the Spanish vessel with all its rich cargo, and its triumphant pirate crew, high up upon the cruel rocks, and wrecked it absolutely and utterly. Bartholemy and his men barely managed to get into a little boat, and row themselves away. All the wealth and treasure which had come to them with the capture of the Spanish vessel, all the power which the possession of that vessel gave them, and all the wild joy which came to them with riches and power, were lost to them in as short a space of time as it had taken to gain them. In the way of well-defined and conspicuous ups and downs, few lives surpassed that of Bartholemy Portuguez. But after this he seems, in the language of the old English song, "All in the downs." He had many adventures after the desperate affair in the bay of Campeachy, but they must all have turned out badly for him, and, consequently, very well, it is probable, for divers and sundry Spanish vessels, and, for the rest of his life, he bore the reputation of an unfortunate pirate. He was one of those men whose success seemed to have depended entirely upon his own exertions. If there happened to be the least chance of his doing anything, he generally did it; Spanish cannon, well-armed Spanish crews, manacles, imprisonment, the dangers of the ocean to a man who could not swim, bloodhounds, alligators, wild beasts, awful forests impenetrable to common men, all these were bravely met and triumphed over by Bartholemy. But when he came to ordinary good fortune, such as any pirate might expect, Bartholemy the Portuguese found that he had no chance at all. But he was not a common pirate, and was, therefore, obliged to be content with his uncommon career. He eventually settled in the island of Jamaica, but nobody knows what became of him. If it so happened that he found himself obliged to make his living by some simple industry, such as the selling of fruit upon a street corner, it is likely he never disposed of a banana or an orange unless he jumped at the throat of a passer-by and compelled him to purchase. As for sitting still and waiting for customers to come to him, such a man as Bartholemy would not be likely to do anything so commonplace. Chapter IX A Pirate Author In the days which we are considering there were all sorts of pirates, some of whom gained much reputation in one way and some in another, but there was one of them who had a disposition different from that of any of his fellows. He was a regular pirate, but it is not likely that he ever did much fighting, for, as he took great pride in the brave deeds of the Brethren of the Coast, he would have been sure to tell us of his own if he had ever performed any. He was a mild-mannered man, and, although he was a pirate, he eventually laid aside the pistol, the musket, and the cutlass, and took up the pen,--a very uncommon weapon for a buccaneer. This man was John Esquemeling, supposed by some to be a Dutchman, and by others a native of France. He sailed to the West Indies in the year 1666, in the service of the French West India Company. He went out as a peaceable merchant clerk, and had no more idea of becoming a pirate than he had of going into literature, although he finally did both. At that time the French West India Company had a colonial establishment on the island of Tortuga, which was principally inhabited, as we have seen before, by buccaneers in all their various grades and stages, from beef-driers to pirates. The French authorities undertook to supply these erratic people with the goods and provisions which they needed, and built storehouses with everything necessary for carrying on the trade. There were plenty of purchasers, for the buccaneers were willing to buy everything which could be brought from Europe. They were fond of good wine, good groceries, good firearms, and ammunition, fine cutlasses, and very often good clothes, in which they could disport themselves when on shore. But they had peculiar customs and manners, and although they were willing to buy as much as the French traders had to sell, they could not be prevailed upon to pay their bills. A pirate is not the sort of a man who generally cares to pay his bills. When he gets goods in any way, he wants them charged to him, and if that charge includes the features of robbery and murder, he will probably make no objection. But as for paying good money for what is received, that is quite another thing. That this was the state of feeling on the island of Tortuga was discovered before very long by the French mercantile agents, who then applied to the mother country for assistance in collecting the debts due them, and a body of men, who might be called collectors, or deputy sheriffs, was sent out to the island; but although these officers were armed with pistols and swords, as well as with authority, they could do nothing with the buccaneers, and after a time the work of endeavoring to collect debts from pirates was given up. And as there was no profit in carrying on business in this way, the mercantile agency was also given up, and its officers were ordered to sell out everything they had on hand, and come home. There was, therefore, a sale, for which cash payments were demanded, and there was a great bargain day on the island of Tortuga. Everything was disposed of,--the stock of merchandise on hand, the tables, the desks, the stationery, the bookkeepers, the clerks, and the errand boys. The living items of the stock on hand were considered to be property just as if they had been any kind of merchandise, and were sold as slaves. Now poor John Esquemeling found himself in a sad condition. He was bought by one of the French officials who had been left on the island, and he described his new master as a veritable fiend. He was worked hard, half fed, treated cruelly in many ways, and to add to his misery, his master tantalized him by offering to set him free upon the payment of a sum of money equal to about three hundred dollars. He might as well have been asked to pay three thousand or three million dollars, for he had not a penny in the world. At last he was so fortunate as to fall sick, and his master, as avaricious as he was cruel, fearing that this creature he owned might die, and thus be an entire loss to him, sold him to a surgeon, very much as one would sell a sick horse to a veterinary surgeon, on the principle that he might make something out of the animal by curing him. His new master treated Esquemeling very well, and after he had taken medicine and food enough to set him upon his legs, and had worked for the surgeon about a year, that kind master offered him his liberty if he would promise, as soon as he could earn the money, to pay him one hundred dollars, which would be a profit to his owner, who had paid but seventy dollars for him. This offer, of course, Esquemeling accepted with delight, and having made the bargain, he stepped forth upon the warm sands of the island of Tortuga a free and happy man. But he was as poor as a church mouse. He had nothing in the world but the clothes on his back, and he saw no way in which he could make money enough to keep himself alive until he had paid for himself. He tried various ways of support, but there was no opening for a young business man in that section of the country, and at last he came to the conclusion that there was only one way by which he could accomplish his object, and he therefore determined to enter into "the wicked order of pirates or robbers at sea." It must have been a strange thing for a man accustomed to pens and ink, to yard-sticks and scales, to feel obliged to enroll himself into a company of bloody, big-bearded pirates, but a man must eat, and buccaneering was the only profession open to our ex-clerk. For some reason or other, certainly not on account of his bravery and daring, Esquemeling was very well received by the pirates of Tortuga. Perhaps they liked him because he was a mild-mannered man and so different from themselves. Nobody was afraid of him, every one felt superior to him, and we are all very apt to like people to whom we feel superior. As for Esquemeling himself, he soon came to entertain the highest opinion of his pirate companions. He looked upon the buccaneers who had distinguished themselves as great heroes, and it must have been extremely gratifying to those savage fellows to tell Esquemeling all the wonderful things they had done. In the whole of the West Indies there was no one who was in the habit of giving such intelligent attention to the accounts of piratical depredations and savage sea-fights, as was Esquemeling and if he had demanded a salary as a listener there is no doubt that it would have been paid to him. It was not long before his intense admiration of the buccaneers and their performances began to produce in him the feeling that the history of these great exploits should not be lost to the world, and so he set about writing the lives and adventures of many of the buccaneers with whom he became acquainted. He remained with the pirates for several years, and during that time worked very industriously getting material together for his history. When he returned to his own country in 1672, having done as much literary work as was possible among the uncivilized surroundings of Tortuga, he there completed a book, which he called, "The Buccaneers of America, or The True Account of the Most Remarkable Assaults Committed of Late Years Upon the Coasts of the West Indies by the Buccaneers, etc., by John Esquemeling, One of the Buccaneers, Who Was Present at Those Tragedies." From this title it is probable that our literary pirate accompanied his comrades on their various voyages and assaults, in the capacity of reporter, and although he states he was present at many of "those tragedies," he makes no reference to any deeds of valor or cruelty performed by himself, which shows him to have been a wonderfully conscientious historian. There are persons, however, who doubt his impartiality, because, as he liked the French, he always gave the pirates of that nationality the credit for most of the bravery displayed on their expeditions, and all of the magnanimity and courtesy, if there happened to be any, while the surliness, brutality, and extraordinary wickednesses were all ascribed to the English. But be this as it may, Esquemeling's history was a great success. It was written in Dutch and was afterwards translated into English, French, and Spanish. It contained a great deal of information regarding buccaneering in general, and most of the stories of pirates which we have already told, and many of the surprising narrations which are to come, have been taken from the book of this buccaneer historian. Chapter X The Story of Roc, the Brazilian Having given the history of a very plain and quiet buccaneer, who was a reporter and writer, and who, if he were now living, would be eligible as a member of an Authors' Club, we will pass to the consideration of a regular out-and-out pirate, one from whose mast-head would have floated the black flag with its skull and cross-bones if that emblematic piece of bunting had been in use by the pirates of the period. This famous buccaneer was called Roc, because he had to have a name, and his own was unknown, and "the Brazilian," because he was born in Brazil, though of Dutch parents. Unlike most of his fellow-practitioners he did not gradually become a pirate. From his early youth he never had an intention of being anything else. As soon as he grew to be a man he became a bloody buccaneer, and at the first opportunity he joined a pirate crew, and had made but a few voyages when it was perceived by his companions that he was destined to become a most remarkable sea-robber. He was offered the command of a ship with a well-armed crew of marine savages, and in a very short time after he had set out on his first independent cruise he fell in with a Spanish ship loaded with silver bullion; having captured this, he sailed with his prize to Jamaica, which was one of the great resorts of the English buccaneers. There his success delighted the community, his talents for the conduct of great piratical operations soon became apparent, and he was generally acknowledged as the Head Pirate of the West Indies. He was now looked upon as a hero even by those colonists who had no sympathy with pirates, and as for Esquemeling, he simply worshipped the great Brazilian desperado. If he had been writing the life and times of Alexander the Great, Julius Cæsar, or Mr. Gladstone, he could not have been more enthusiastic in his praises. And as in The Arabian Nights the roc is described as the greatest of birds, so, in the eyes of the buccaneer biographer, this Roc was the greatest of pirates. But it was not only in the mind of the historian that Roc now became famous; the better he became known, the more general was the fear and respect felt for him, and we are told that the mothers of the islands used to put their children to sleep by threatening them with the terrible Roc if they did not close their eyes. This story, however, I regard with a great deal of doubt; it has been told of Saladin and many other wicked and famous men, but I do not believe it is an easy thing to frighten a child into going to sleep. If I found it necessary to make a youngster take a nap, I should say nothing of the condition of affairs in Cuba or of the persecutions of the Armenians. This renowned pirate from Brazil must have been a terrible fellow to look at. He was strong and brawny, his face was short and very wide, with high cheek-bones, and his expression probably resembled that of a pug dog. His eyebrows were enormously large and bushy, and from under them he glared at his mundane surroundings. He was not a man whose spirit could be quelled by looking him steadfastly in the eye. It was his custom in the daytime to walk about, carrying a drawn cutlass, resting easily upon his arm, edge up, very much as a fine gentleman carries his high silk hat, and any one who should impertinently stare or endeavor to quell his high spirits in any other way, would probably have felt the edge of that cutlass descending rapidly through his physical organism. He was a man who insisted upon being obeyed, and if any one of his crew behaved improperly, or was even found idle, this strict and inexorable master would cut him down where he stood. But although he was so strict and exacting during the business sessions of his piratical year, by which I mean when he was cruising around after prizes, he was very much more disagreeable when he was taking a vacation. On his return to Jamaica after one of his expeditions it was his habit to give himself some relaxation after the hardships and dangers through which he had passed, and on such occasions it was a great comfort to Roc to get himself thoroughly drunk. With his cutlass waving high in the air, he would rush out into the street and take a whack at every one whom he met. As far as was possible the citizens allowed him to have the street to himself, and it was not at all likely that his visits to Jamaica were looked forward to with any eager anticipations. Roc, it may be said, was not only a bloody pirate, but a blooded one; he was thoroughbred. From the time he had been able to assert his individuality he had been a pirate, and there was no reason to suppose that he would ever reform himself into anything else. There were no extenuating circumstances in his case; in his nature there was no alloy, nor moderation, nor forbearance. The appreciative Esquemeling, who might be called the Boswell of the buccaneers, could never have met his hero Roc, when that bushy-bearded pirate was running "amuck" in the streets, but if he had, it is not probable that his book would have been written. He assures us that when Roc was not drunk he was esteemed, but at the same time feared; but there are various ways of gaining esteem, and Roc's method certainly succeeded very well in the case of his literary associate. As we have seen, the hatred of the Spaniards by the buccaneers began very early in the settlement of the West Indies, and in fact, it is very likely that if there had been no Spaniards there would never have been any buccaneers; but in all the instances of ferocious enmity toward the Spaniards there has been nothing to equal the feelings of Roc, the Brazilian, upon that subject. His dislike to everything Spanish arose, he declared, from cruelties which had been practised upon his parents by people of that nation, and his main principle of action throughout all his piratical career seems to have been that there was nothing too bad for a Spaniard. The object of his life was to wage bitter war against Spanish ships and Spanish settlements. He seldom gave any quarter to his prisoners, and would often subject them to horrible tortures in order to make them tell where he could find the things he wanted. There is nothing horrible that has ever been written or told about the buccaneer life, which could not have been told about Roc, the Brazilian. He was a typical pirate. [Illustration: "In a small boat filled with some of his trusty men, he rowed quietly into the port."--p. 77.] Roc was very successful, in his enterprises, and took a great deal of valuable merchandise to Jamaica, but although he and his crew were always rich men when they went on shore, they did not remain in that condition very long. The buccaneers of that day were all very extravagant, and, moreover, they were great gamblers, and it was not uncommon for them to lose everything they possessed before they had been on shore a week. Then there was nothing for them to do but to go on board their vessels and put out to sea in search of some fresh prize. So far Roc's career had been very much like that of many other Companions of the Coast, differing from them only in respect to intensity and force, but he was a clever man with ideas, and was able to adapt himself to circumstances. He was cruising about Campeachy without seeing any craft that was worth capturing, when he thought that it would be very well for him to go out on a sort of marine scouting expedition and find out whether or not there were any Spanish vessels in the bay which were well laden and which were likely soon to come out. So, with a small boat filled with some of his trusty men, he rowed quietly into the port to see what he could discover. If he had had Esquemeling with him, and had sent that mild-mannered observer into the harbor to investigate into the state of affairs, and come back with a report, it would have been a great deal better for the pirate captain, but he chose to go himself, and he came to grief. No sooner did the people on the ships lying in the harbor behold a boat approaching with a big-browed, broad-jawed mariner sitting in the stern, and with a good many more broad-backed, hairy mariners than were necessary, pulling at the oars, than they gave the alarm. The well-known pirate was recognized, and it was not long before he was captured. Roc must have had a great deal of confidence in his own powers, or perhaps he relied somewhat upon the fear which his very presence evoked. But he made a mistake this time; he had run into the lion's jaw, and the lion had closed his teeth upon him. When the pirate captain and his companions were brought before the Governor, he made no pretence of putting them to trial. Buccaneers were outlawed by the Spanish, and were considered as wild beasts to be killed without mercy wherever caught. Consequently Roc and his men were thrown into a dungeon and condemned to be executed. If, however, the Spanish Governor had known what was good for himself, he would have had them killed that night. During the time that preparations were going on for making examples of these impertinent pirates, who had dared to enter the port of Campeachy, Roc was racking his brains to find some method of getting out of the terrible scrape into which he had fallen. This was a branch of the business in which a capable pirate was obliged to be proficient; if he could not get himself out of scrapes, he could not expect to be successful. In this case there was no chance of cutting down sentinels, or jumping overboard with a couple of wine-jars for a life-preserver, or of doing any of those ordinary things which pirates were in the habit of doing when escaping from their captors. Roc and his men were in a dungeon on land, inside of a fortress, and if they escaped from this, they would find themselves unarmed in the midst of a body of Spanish soldiers. Their stout arms and their stout hearts were of no use to them now, and they were obliged to depend upon their wits if they had any. Roc had plenty of wit, and he used it well. There was a slave, probably not a negro nor a native, but most likely some European who had been made prisoner, who came in to bring him food and drink, and by the means of this man the pirate hoped to play a trick upon the Governor. He promised the slave that if he would help him,--and he told him it would be very easy to do so,--he would give him money enough to buy his freedom and to return to his friends, and this, of course, was a great inducement to the poor fellow, who may have been an Englishman or a Frenchman in good circumstances at home. The slave agreed to the proposals, and the first thing he did was to bring some writing-materials to Roc, who thereupon began the composition of a letter upon which he based all his hopes of life and freedom. When he was coming into the bay, Roc had noticed a large French vessel that was lying at some distance from the town, and he wrote his letter as if it had come from the captain of this ship. In the character of this French captain he addressed his letter to the Governor of the town, and in it he stated that he had understood that certain Companions of the Coast, for whom he had great sympathy,--for the French and the buccaneers were always good friends,--had been captured by the Governor, who, he heard, had threatened to execute them. Then the French captain, by the hand of Roc, went on to say that if any harm should come to these brave men, who had been taken and imprisoned when they were doing no harm to anybody, he would swear, in his most solemn manner, that never, for the rest of his life, would he give quarter to any Spaniard who might fall into his hands, and he, moreover, threatened that any kind of vengeance which should become possible for the buccaneers and French united, to inflict upon the Spanish ships, or upon the town of Campeachy, should be taken as soon as possible after he should hear of any injury that might be inflicted upon the unfortunate men who were then lying imprisoned in the fortress. When the slave came back to Roc, the letter was given to him with very particular directions as to what he was to do with it. He was to disguise himself as much as possible, so that he should not be recognized by the people of the place, and then in the night he was to make his way out of the town, and early in the morning he was to return as if he had been walking along the shore of the harbor, when he was to state that he had been put on shore from the French vessel in the offing, with a letter which he was to present to the Governor. The slave performed his part of the business very well. The next day, wet and bedraggled, from making his way through the weeds and mud of the coast, he presented himself at the fortress with his letter, and when he was allowed to take it to the Governor, no one suspected that he was a person employed about the place. Having fulfilled his mission, he departed, and when seen again he was the same servant whose business it was to carry food to the prisoners. The Governor read the letter with a disquieted mind; he knew that the French ship which was lying outside the harbor was a powerful vessel and he did not like French ships, anyway. The town had once been taken and very badly treated by a little fleet of French and English buccaneers, and he was very anxious that nothing of the kind should happen again. There was no great Spanish force in the harbor at that time, and he did not know how many buccaneering vessels might be able to gather together in the bay if it should become known that the great pirate Roc had been put to death in Campeachy. It was an unusual thing for a prisoner to have such powerful friends so near by, and the Governor took Roc's case into most earnest consideration. A few hours' reflection was sufficient to convince him that it would be very unsafe to tamper with such a dangerous prize as the pirate Roc, and he determined to get rid of him as soon as possible. He felt himself in the position of a man who has stolen a baby-bear, and who hears the roar of an approaching parent through the woods; to throw away the cub and walk off as though he had no idea there were any bears in that forest would be the inclination of a man so situated, and to get rid of the great pirate without provoking the vengeance of his friends was the natural inclination of the Governor. Now Roc and his men were treated well, and having been brought before the Governor, were told that in consequence of their having committed no overt act of disorder they would be set at liberty and shipped to England, upon the single condition that they would abandon piracy and agree to become quiet citizens in whatever respectable vocation they might select. To these terms Roc and his men agreed without argument. They declared that they would retire from the buccaneering business, and that nothing would suit them better than to return to the ways of civilization and virtue. There was a ship about to depart for Spain, and on this the Governor gave Roc and his men free passage to the other side of the ocean. There is no doubt that our buccaneers would have much preferred to have been put on board the French vessel; but as the Spanish Governor had started his prisoners on the road to reform, he did not wish to throw them into the way of temptation by allowing them to associate with such wicked companions as Frenchmen, and Roc made no suggestion of the kind, knowing very well how greatly astonished the French captain would be if the Governor were to communicate with him on the subject. On the voyage to Spain Roc was on his good behavior, and he was a man who knew how to behave very well when it was absolutely necessary: no doubt there must have been many dull days on board ship when he would have been delighted to gamble, to get drunk, and to run "amuck" up and down the deck. But he carefully abstained from all these recreations, and showed himself to be such an able-bodied and willing sailor that the captain allowed him to serve as one of the crew. Roc knew how to do a great many things; not only could he murder and rob, but he knew how to turn an honest penny when there was no other way of filling his purse. He had learned among the Indians how to shoot fish with bow and arrows, and on this voyage across the Atlantic he occupied all his spare time in sitting in the rigging and shooting the fish which disported themselves about the vessel. These fish he sold to the officers, and we are told that in this way he earned no less than five hundred crowns, perhaps that many dollars. If this account is true, fish must have been very costly in those days, but it showed plainly that if Roc had desired to get into an honest business, he would have found fish-shooting a profitable occupation. In every way Roc behaved so well that for his sake all his men were treated kindly and allowed many privileges. But when this party of reformed pirates reached Spain and were allowed to go where they pleased, they thought no more of the oaths they had taken to abandon piracy than they thought of the oaths which they had been in the habit of throwing right and left when they had been strolling about on the island of Jamaica. They had no ship, and not enough money to buy one, but as soon as they could manage it they sailed back to the West Indies, and eventually found themselves in Jamaica, as bold and as bloody buccaneers as ever they had been. Not only did Roc cast from him every thought of reformation and a respectable life, but he determined to begin the business of piracy on a grander scale than ever before. He made a compact with an old French buccaneer, named Tributor, and with a large company of buccaneers he actually set out to take a town. Having lost everything he possessed, and having passed such a long time without any employment more profitable than that of shooting fish with a bow and arrows, our doughty pirate now desired to make a grand strike, and if he could take a town and pillage it of everything valuable it contained, he would make a very good fortune in a very short time, and might retire, if he chose, from the active practice of his profession. The town which Roc and Tributor determined to attack was Merida, in Yucatan, and although this was a bold and rash undertaking, the two pirates were bold and rash enough for anything. Roc had been a prisoner in Merida, and on account of his knowledge of the town he believed that he and his followers could land upon the coast, and then quietly advance upon the town without their approach being discovered. If they could do this, it would be an easy matter to rush upon the unsuspecting garrison, and, having annihilated these, make themselves masters of the town. But their plans did not work very well; they were discovered by some Indians, after they had landed, who hurried to Merida and gave notice of the approach of the buccaneers. Consequently, when Roc and his companions reached the town they found the garrison prepared for them, cannons loaded, and all the approaches guarded. Still the pirates did not hesitate; they advanced fiercely to the attack just as they were accustomed to do when they were boarding a Spanish vessel, but they soon found that fighting on land was very different from fighting at sea. In a marine combat it is seldom that a party of boarders is attacked in the rear by the enemy, although on land such methods of warfare may always be expected; but Roc and Tributor did not expect anything of the kind, and they were, therefore, greatly dismayed when a party of horsemen from the town, who had made a wide détour through the woods, suddenly charged upon their rear. Between the guns of the garrison and the sabres of the horsemen the buccaneers had a very hard time, and it was not long before they were completely defeated. Tributor and a great many of the pirates were killed or taken, and Roc, the Brazilian, had a terrible fall. This most memorable fall occurred in the estimation of John Esquemeling, who knew all about the attack on Merida, and who wrote the account of it. But he had never expected to be called upon to record that his great hero, Roc, the Brazilian, saved his life, after the utter defeat of himself and his companions, by ignominiously running away. The loyal chronicler had as firm a belief in the absolute inability of his hero to fly from danger as was shown by the Scottish Douglas, when he stood, his back against a mass of stone, and invited his enemies to "Come one, come all." The bushy-browed pirate of the drawn cutlass had so often expressed his contempt for a soldier who would even surrender, to say nothing of running away, that Esquemeling could scarcely believe that Roc had retreated from his enemies, deserted his friends, and turned his back upon the principles which he had always so truculently proclaimed. But this downfall of a hero simply shows that Esquemeling, although he was a member of the piratical body, and was proud to consider himself a buccaneer, did not understand the true nature of a pirate. Under the brutality, the cruelty, the dishonesty, and the recklessness of the sea-robbers of those days, there was nearly always meanness and cowardice. Roc, as we have said in the beginning of this sketch, was a typical pirate; under certain circumstances he showed himself to have all those brave and savage qualities which Esquemeling esteemed and revered, and under other circumstances he showed those other qualities which Esquemeling despised, but which are necessary to make up the true character of a pirate. The historian John seems to have been very much cut up by the manner in which his favorite hero had rounded off his piratical career, and after that he entirely dropped Roc from his chronicles. This out-and-out pirate was afterwards living in Jamaica, and probably engaged in new enterprises, but Esquemeling would have nothing more to do with him nor with the history of his deeds. Chapter XI A Buccaneer Boom The condition of affairs in the West Indies was becoming very serious in the eyes of the Spanish rulers. They had discovered a new country, they had taken possession of it, and they had found great wealth of various kinds, of which they were very much in need. This wealth was being carried to Spain as fast as it could be taken from the unfortunate natives and gathered together for transportation, and everything would have gone on very well indeed had it not been for the most culpable and unwarranted interference of that lawless party of men, who might almost be said to amount to a nationality, who were continually on the alert to take from Spain everything she could take from America. The English, French, and Dutch governments were generally at peace with Spain, but they sat by quietly and saw their sailor subjects band themselves together and make war upon Spanish commerce,--a very one-sided commerce, it is true. It was of no use for Spain to complain of the buccaneers to her sister maritime nations. It is not certain that they could have done anything to interfere with the operations of the sea-robbers who originally sailed from their coasts, but it is certain they did not try to do anything. Whatever was to be done, Spain must do herself. The pirates were as slippery as they were savage, and although the Spaniards made a regular naval war upon them, they seemed to increase rather than to diminish. Every time that a Spanish merchantman was taken, and its gold and silver and valuable goods carried off to Tortuga or Jamaica, and divided among a lot of savage and rollicking fellows, the greater became the enthusiasm among the Brethren of the Coast, and the wider spread the buccaneering boom. More ships laden almost entirely with stalwart men, well provided with arms, and very badly furnished with principles, came from England and France, and the Spanish ships of war in the West Indies found that they were confronted by what was, in many respects, a regular naval force. The buccaneers were afraid of nothing; they paid no attention to the rules of war,--a little ship would attack a big one without the slightest hesitation, and more than that, would generally take it,--and in every way Spain was beginning to feel as if she were acting the part of provider to the pirate seamen of every nation. Finding that she could do nothing to diminish the number of the buccaneering vessels, Spain determined that she would not have so many richly laden ships of her own upon these dangerous seas; consequently, a change was made in regard to the shipping of merchandise and the valuable metals from America to her home ports. The cargoes were concentrated, and what had previously been placed upon three ships was crowded into the holds and between the decks of one great vessel, which was so well armed and defended as to make it almost impossible for any pirate ship to capture it. In some respects this plan worked very well, although when the buccaneers did happen to pounce upon one of these richly laden vessels, in such numbers and with such swift ferocity, that they were able to capture it, they rejoiced over a prize far more valuable than anything the pirate soul had ever dreamed of before. But it was not often that one of these great ships was taken, and for a time the results of Spanish robbery and cruelty were safely carried to Spain. But it was very hard to get the better of the buccaneers; their lives and their fortunes depended upon this boom, and if in one way they could not get the gold out of the Spaniards, which the latter got out of the natives, they would try another. When the miners in the gold fields find they can no longer wash out with their pans a paying quantity of the precious metal, they go to work on the rocks and break them into pieces and crush them into dust; so, when the buccaneers found it did not pay to devote themselves to capturing Spanish gold on its transit across the ocean, many of them changed their methods of operation and boldly planned to seize the treasures of their enemy before it was put upon the ships. Consequently, the buccaneers formed themselves into larger bodies commanded by noted leaders, and made attacks upon the Spanish settlements and towns. Many of these were found nearly defenceless, and even those which boasted fortifications often fell before the reckless charges of the buccaneers. The pillage, the burning, and the cruelty on shore exceeded that which had hitherto been known on the sea. There is generally a great deal more in a town than there is in a ship, and the buccaneers proved themselves to be among the most outrageous, exacting, and cruel conquerors ever known in the world. They were governed by no laws of warfare; whatever they chose to do they did. They respected nobody, not even themselves, and acted like wild beasts, without the disposition which is generally shown by a wild beast, to lie down and go to sleep when he has had enough. There were times when it seemed as though it would be safer for a man who had a regard for his life and comfort, to sail upon a pirate ship instead of a Spanish galleon, or to take up his residence in one of the uncivilized communities of Tortuga or Jamaica, instead of settling in a well-ordered Spanish-American town with its mayor, its officials, and its garrison. It was a very strange nation of marine bandits which had thus sprung into existence on these faraway waters; it was a nation of grown-up men, who existed only for the purpose of carrying off that which other people were taking away; it was a nation of second-hand robbers, who carried their operations to such an extent that they threatened to do away entirely with that series of primary robberies to which Spain had devoted herself. I do not know that there were any companies formed in those days for the prosecution of buccaneering, but I am quite sure that if there had been, their shares would have gone up to a very high figure. Chapter XII The Story of L'Olonnois the Cruel In the preceding chapter we have seen that the buccaneers had at last become so numerous and so formidable that it was dangerous for a Spanish ship laden with treasure from the new world to attempt to get out of the Caribbean Sea into the Atlantic, and that thus failing to find enough richly laden vessels to satisfy their ardent cravings for plunder, the buccaneers were forced to make some change in their methods of criminal warfare; and from capturing Spanish galleons, they formed themselves into well-organized bodies and attacked towns. Among the buccaneer leaders who distinguished themselves as land pirates was a thoroughbred scoundrel by the name of Francis L'Olonnois, who was born in France. In those days it was the custom to enforce servitude upon people who were not able to take care of themselves. Unfortunate debtors and paupers of all classes were sold to people who had need of their services. The only difference sometimes between master and servant depended entirely upon the fact that one had money, and the other had none. Boys and girls were sold for a term of years, somewhat as if they had been apprentices, and it so happened that the boy L'Olonnois was sold to a master who took him to the West Indies. There he led the life of a slave until he was of age, and then, being no longer subject to ownership, he became one of the freest and most independent persons who ever walked this earth. He began his career on the island of Hispaniola, where he took up the business of hunting and butchering cattle; but he very soon gave up this life for that of a pirate, and enlisted as a common sailor on one of their ships. Here he gave signs of such great ability as a brave and unscrupulous scoundrel that one of the leading pirates on the island of Tortuga gave him a ship and a crew, and set him up in business on his own account. The piratical career of L'Olonnois was very much like that of other buccaneers of the day, except that he was so abominably cruel to the Spanish prisoners whom he captured that he gained a reputation for vile humanity, surpassing that of any other rascal on the western continent. When he captured a prisoner, it seemed to delight his soul as much to torture and mutilate him before killing him as to take away whatever valuables he possessed. His reputation for ingenious wickedness spread all over the West Indies, so that the crews of Spanish ships, attacked by this demon, would rather die on their decks or sink to the bottom in their ships than be captured by L'Olonnois. All the barbarities, the brutalities, and the fiendish ferocity which have ever been attributed to the pirates of the world were united in the character of this inhuman wretch, who does not appear to be so good an example of the true pirate as Roc, the Brazilian. He was not so brave, he was not so able, and he was so utterly base that it would be impossible for any one to look upon him as a hero. After having attained in a very short time the reputation of being the most bloody and wicked pirate of his day, L'Olonnois was unfortunate enough to be wrecked upon the coast, not far from the town of Campeachy. He and his crew got safely to shore, but it was not long before their presence was discovered by the people of the town, and the Spanish soldiers thereupon sallied out and attacked them. There was a fierce fight, but the Spaniards were the stronger, and the buccaneers were utterly defeated. Many of them were killed, and most of the rest wounded or taken prisoners. Among the wounded was L'Olonnois, and as he knew that if he should be discovered he would meet with no mercy, he got behind some bushes, scooped up several handfuls of sand, mixed it with his blood, and with it rubbed his face so that it presented the pallor of a corpse. Then he lay down among the bodies of his dead companions, and when the Spaniards afterwards walked over the battlefield, he was looked upon as one of the common pirates whom they had killed. When the soldiers had retired into the town with their prisoners, the make-believe corpse stealthily arose and made his way into the woods, where he stayed until his wounds were well enough for him to walk about. He divested himself of his great boots, his pistol belt, and the rest of his piratical costume, and, adding to his scanty raiment a cloak and hat which he had stolen from a poor cottage, he boldly approached the town and entered it. He looked like a very ordinary person, and no notice was taken of him by the authorities. Here he found shelter and something to eat, and he soon began to make himself very much at home in the streets of Campeachy. It was a very gay time in the town, and, as everybody seemed to be happy, L'Olonnois was very glad to join in the general rejoicing, and these hilarities gave him particular pleasure as he found out that he was the cause of them. The buccaneers who had been captured, and who were imprisoned in the fortress, had been interrogated over and over again by the Spanish officials in regard to L'Olonnois, their commander, and, as they had invariably answered that he had been killed, the Spanish were forced to believe the glad tidings, and they celebrated the death of the monster as the greatest piece of public good fortune which could come to their community. They built bonfires, they sang songs about the death of the black-hearted buccaneer, and services of thanksgiving were held in their churches. All this was a great delight to L'Olonnois, who joined hands with the young men and women, as they danced around the bonfires; he assisted in a fine bass voice in the choruses which told of his death and his dreadful doom, and he went to church and listened to the priests and the people as they gave thanks for their deliverance from his enormities. But L'Olonnois did not waste all his time chuckling over the baseless rejoicings of the people of the town. He made himself acquainted with some of the white slaves, men who had been brought from England, and finding some of them very much discontented with their lot, he ventured to tell them that he was one of the pirates who had escaped, and offered them riches and liberty if they would join him in a scheme he had concocted. It would have been easy enough for him to get away from the town by himself, but this would have been of no use to him unless he obtained some sort of a vessel, and some men to help him navigate it. So he proposed to the slaves that they should steal a small boat belonging to the master of one of them, and in this, under cover of the night, the little party safely left Campeachy and set sail for Tortuga, which, as we have told, was then the headquarters of the buccaneers, and "the common place of refuge of all sorts or wickedness, and the seminary, as it were, of all manner of pirates." Chapter XIII A Resurrected Pirate When L'Olonnois arrived at Tortuga he caused great astonishment among his old associates; that he had come back a comparative pauper surprised no one, for this was a common thing to happen to a pirate, but the wonder was that he got back at all. He had no money, but, by the exercise of his crafty abilities, he managed to get possession of a ship, which he manned with a crew of about a score of impecunious dare-devils who were very anxious to do something to mend their fortunes. Having now become very fond of land-fighting, he did not go out in search of ships, but directed his vessel to a little village called de los Cayos, on the coast of Cuba, for here, he thought, was a chance for a good and easy stroke of business. This village was the abode of industrious people, who were traders in tobacco, hides, and sugar, and who were obliged to carry on their traffic in a rather peculiar manner. The sea near their town was shallow, so that large ships could not approach very near, and thus the villagers were kept busy carrying goods and supplies in small boats, backwards and forwards from the town to the vessels at anchor. Here was a nice little prize that could not get away from him, and L'Olonnois had plenty of time to make his preparations to seize it. As he could not sail a ship directly up to the town, he cruised about the coast at some distance from de los Cayos, endeavoring to procure two small boats in which to approach the town, but although his preparations were made as quietly as possible, the presence of his vessel was discovered by some fishermen. They knew that it was a pirate ship, and some of them who had seen L'Olonnois recognized that dreaded pirate upon the deck. Word of the impending danger was taken to the town, and the people there immediately sent a message by land to Havana, informing the Governor of the island that the cruel pirate L'Olonnois was in a ship a short distance from their village, which he undoubtedly intended to attack. When the Governor heard this astonishing tale, it was almost impossible for him to believe it. The good news of the death of L'Olonnois had come from Campeachy to Havana, and the people of the latter town also rejoiced greatly. To be now told that this scourge of the West Indies was alive, and was about to fall upon a peaceful little village on the island over which he ruled, filled the Governor with rage as well as amazement, and he ordered a well-armed ship, with a large crew of fighting men, to sail immediately for de los Cayos, giving the captain express orders that he was not to come back until he had obliterated from the face of the earth the whole of the wretched gang with the exception of the leader. This extraordinary villain was to be brought to Havana to be treated as the Governor should see fit. In order that his commands should be executed promptly and effectually, the Governor sent a big negro slave in the ship, who was charged with the duty of hanging every one of the pirates except L'Olonnois. By the time the war-vessel had arrived at de los Cayos, L'Olonnois had made his preparation to attack the place. He had procured two large canoes, and in these he had intended to row up to the town and land with his men. But now there was a change in the state of affairs, and he was obliged to alter his plans. The ordinary person in command of two small boats, who should suddenly discover that a village which he supposed almost defenceless, was protected by a large man-of-war, with cannon and a well-armed crew, would have altered his plans so completely that he would have left that part of the coast of Cuba with all possible expedition. But the pirates of that day seemed to pay very little attention to the element of odds; if they met an enemy who was weak, they would fall upon him, and if they met with one who was a good deal stronger than themselves, they would fall upon him all the same. When the time came to fight they fought. Of course L'Olonnois could not now row leisurely up to the town and begin to pillage it as he had intended, but no intention of giving up his project entered his mind. As the Spanish vessel was in his way, he would attack her and get her out of his way if the thing could be done. In this new state of affairs he was obliged to use stratagem, and he also needed a larger force than he had with him, and he therefore captured some men who were fishing along the coast and put them into his canoes to help work the oars. Then by night he proceeded slowly in the direction of the Spanish vessel. The man-of-war was anchored not very far from the town, and when about two o'clock in the morning the watch on deck saw some canoes approaching they supposed them to be boats from shore, for, as has been said, such vessels were continually plying about those shallow waters. The canoes were hailed, and after having given an account of themselves they were asked if they knew anything about the pirate ship upon the coast. L'Olonnois understood very well that it would not do for him or his men to make answer to these inquiries, for their speech would have shown they did not belong to those parts. Therefore he made one of his prisoner fishermen answer that they had not seen a pirate vessel, and if there had been one there, it must have sailed away when its captain heard the Spanish ship was coming. Then the canoes were allowed to go their way, but their way was a very different one from any which could have been expected by the captain of the ship. They rowed off into the darkness instead of going toward the town, and waited until nearly daybreak, then they boldly made for the man-of-war, one canoe attacking her on one side and the other on the other. Before the Spanish could comprehend what had happened there were more than twenty pirates upon their decks, the dreaded L'Olonnois at their head. In such a case as this cannon were of no use, and when the crew tried to rush upon deck, they found that cutlasses and pistols did not avail very much better. The pirates had the advantage; they had overpowered the watch, and were defending the deck against all comers from below. It requires a very brave sailor to stick his head out of a hatchway when he sees three or four cutlasses ready to split it open. But there was some stout fighting on board; the officers came out of their cabins, and some of the men were able to force their way out into the struggle. The pirates knew, however, that they were but few and that were their enemies allowed to get on deck they would prove entirely too strong, and they fought, each scoundrel of them, like three men, and the savage fight ended by every Spanish sailor or officer who was not killed or wounded being forced to stay below decks, where the hatches were securely fastened down upon them. L'Olonnois now stood a proud victor on the deck of his prize, and, being a man of principle, he determined to live up to the distinguished reputation which he had acquired in that part of the world. Baring his muscular and hairy right arm, he clutched the handle of his sharp and heavy cutlass and ordered the prisoners to be brought up from below, one at a time, and conducted to the place where he stood. He wished to give Spain a lesson which would make her understand that he was not to be interfered with in the execution of his enterprises, and he determined to allow himself the pleasure of personally teaching this lesson. As soon as a prisoner was brought to L'Olonnois he struck off his head, and this performance he continued, beginning with number one, and going on until he had counted ninety. The last one brought to him was the negro slave. This man, who was not a soldier, was desperately frightened and begged piteously for his life. L'Olonnois, finding that the man was willing to tell everything he knew, questioned him about the sending of this vessel from Havana, and when the poor fellow had finished by telling that he had come there, not of his own accord, but simply for the purpose of obeying his master, to hang all the pirates except their leader, that great buccaneer laughed, and, finding he could get nothing more from the negro, cut off his head likewise, and his body was tumbled into the sea after those of his companions. Now there was not a Spaniard left on board the great ship except one man, who had been preserved from the fate of the others because L'Olonnois had some correspondence to attend to, and he needed a messenger to carry a letter. The pirate captain went into the cabin, where he found writing-materials ready to his hand, and there he composed a letter to the Governor of Havana, a part of which read as follows: "I shall never henceforward give quarter unto any Spaniard whatsoever. And I have great hopes that I shall execute on your own person the very same punishment I have done to them you sent against me. Thus I have retaliated the kindness you designed unto me and my companions." When this message was received by the dignified official who filled the post of Governor of Cuba, he stormed and fairly foamed at the mouth. To be utterly foiled and discomfited by this resurrected pirate, and to be afterwards addressed in terms of such unheard-of insolence and abuse, was more than he could bear, and, in the presence of many of his officials and attendants, he swore a terrible oath that after that hour he would never again give quarter to any buccaneer, no matter when or where he was captured, or what he might be doing at the time. Every man of the wretched band should die as soon as he could lay hands upon him. But when the inhabitants of Havana and the surrounding villages heard of this terrible resolution of their Governor they were very much disturbed. They lived in constant danger of attack, especially those who were engaged in fishing or maritime pursuits, and they feared that when it became known that no buccaneer was to receive quarter, the Spanish colonists would be treated in the same way, no matter where they might be found and taken. Consequently, it was represented to the Governor that his plan of vengeance would work most disastrously for the Spanish settlers, for the buccaneers could do far more damage to them than he could possibly do to these dreadful Brethren of the Coast, and that, unless he wished to bring upon them troubles greater than those of famine or pestilence, they begged that he would retract his oath. When the high dignitary had cooled down a little, he saw that there was a good deal of sense in what the representative of the people had said to him, and he consequently felt obliged, in consideration of the public safety, to take back what he had said, and to give up the purpose, which would have rendered unsafe the lives of so many peaceable people. L'Olonnois was now the possessor of a fine vessel which had not been in the least injured during the battle in which it had been won. But his little crew, some of whom had been killed and wounded, was insufficient to work such a ship upon an important cruise on the high seas, and he also discovered, much to his surprise, that there were very few provisions on board, for when the vessel was sent from Havana it was supposed she would make but a very short cruise. This savage swinger of the cutlass thereupon concluded that he would not try to do any great thing for the present, but, having obtained some booty and men from the woe-begone town of de los Cayos, he sailed away, touching at several other small ports for the purpose of pillage, and finally anchoring at Tortuga. Chapter XIV Villany on a Grand Scale When L'Olonnois landed on the disreputable shores of Tortuga, he was received by all circles of the vicious society of the island with loud acclamation. He had not only taken a fine Spanish ship, he had not only bearded the Governor of Havana in his fortified den, but he had struck off ninety heads with his own hand. Even people who did not care for him before reverenced him now. In all the annals of piracy no hero had ever done such a deed as this, and the best records of human butchering had been broken. Now grand and ambitious ideas began to swell the head of this champion slaughterer, and he conceived the plan of getting up a grand expedition to go forth and capture the important town of Maracaibo, in New Venezuela. This was an enterprise far above the ordinary aims of a buccaneer, and it would require more than ordinary force to accomplish it. He therefore set himself to work to enlist a large number of men and to equip a fleet of vessels, of which he was to be chief commander or admiral. There were a great many unemployed pirates in Tortuga at that time, and many a brawny rascal volunteered to sail under the flag of the daring butcher of the seas. But in order to equip a fleet, money was necessary as well as men, and therefore L'Olonnois thought himself very lucky when he succeeded in interesting the principal piratical capitalist of Tortuga in his undertaking. This was an old and seasoned buccaneer by the name of Michael de Basco, who had made money enough by his piratical exploits to retire from business and live on his income. He held the position of Mayor of the island and was an important man among his fellow-miscreants. When de Basco heard of the great expedition which L'Olonnois was about to undertake, his whole soul was fired and he could not rest tamely in his comfortable quarters when such great things were to be done, and he offered to assist L'Olonnois with funds and join in the expedition if he were made commander of the land forces. This offer was accepted gladly, for de Basco had a great reputation as a fighter in Europe as well as in America. When everything had been made ready, L'Olonnois set sail for Maracaibo with a fleet of eight ships. On the way they captured two Spanish vessels, both of which were rich prizes, and at last they arrived before the town which they intended to capture. Maracaibo was a prosperous place of three or four thousand inhabitants; they were rich people living in fine houses, and many of them had plantations which extended out into the country. In every way the town possessed great attractions to piratical marauders, but there were difficulties in the way; being such an important place, of course it had important defences. On an island in the harbor there was a strong fort, or castle, and on another island a little further from the town there was a tall tower, on the top of which a sentinel was posted night and day to give notice of any approaching enemy. Between these two islands was the only channel by which the town could be approached from the sea. But in preparing these defences the authorities had thought only of defending themselves against ordinary naval forces and had not anticipated the extraordinary naval methods of the buccaneers who used to be merely sea-robbers, who fell upon ships after they had left their ports, but who now set out to capture not only ships at sea but towns on land. L'Olonnois had too much sense to run his ships close under the guns of the fortress, against which he could expect to do nothing, for the buccaneers relied but little upon their cannon, and so they paid no more attention to the ordinary harbor than if it had not been there, but sailed into a fresh-water lake at some distance from the town, and out of sight of the tower. There L'Olonnois landed his men, and, advancing upon the fort from the rear, easily crossed over to the little island and marched upon the fort. It was very early in the morning. The garrison was utterly amazed by this attack from land, and although they fought bravely for three hours, they were obliged to give up the defence of the walls, and as many of them as could do so got out of the fort and escaped to the mainland and the town. L'Olonnois now took possession of the fort, and then, with the greater part of his men, he returned to his ships, brought them around to the entrance of the bay, and then boldly sailed with his whole fleet under the very noses of the cannon and anchored in the harbor in front of the town. When the citizens of Maracaibo heard from the escaping garrison that the fort had been taken, they were filled with horror and dismay, for they had no further means of defence. They knew that the pirates had come there for no other object than to rob, pillage, and cruelly treat them, and consequently as many as possible hurried away into the woods and the surrounding country with as many of their valuables as they could carry. They resembled the citizens of a town attacked by the cholera or the plague, and in fact, they would have preferred a most terrible pestilence to this terrible scourge of piracy from which they were about to suffer. As soon as L'Olonnois and his wild pirates had landed in the city they devoted themselves entirely to eating and drinking and making themselves merry. They had been on short commons during the latter part of their voyage, and they had a royal time with the abundance of food and wine which they found in the houses of the town. The next day, however, they set about attending to the business which had brought them there, and parties of pirates were sent out into the surrounding country to find the people who had run away and to take from them the treasures they had carried off. But although a great many of the poor, miserable, unfortunate citizens were captured and brought back to the town, there was found upon them very little money, and but few jewels or ornaments of value. And now L'Olonnois began to prove how much worse his presence was than any other misfortune which could have happened to the town. He tortured the poor prisoners, men, women, and children, to make them tell where they had hidden their treasures, sometimes hacking one of them with his sword, declaring at the same time that if he did not tell where his money was hidden he would immediately set to work to cut up his family and his friends. The cruelties inflicted upon the inhabitants by this vile and beastly pirate and his men were so horrible that they could not be put into print. Even John Esquemeling, who wrote the account of it, had not the heart to tell everything that had happened. But after two weeks of horror and torture, the pirates were able to get but comparatively little out of the town, and they therefore determined to go somewhere else, where they might do better. At the southern end of Lake Maracaibo, about forty leagues from the town which the pirates had just desolated and ruined, lay Gibraltar, a good-sized and prosperous town, and for this place L'Olonnois and his fleet now set sail; but they were not able to approach unsuspected and unseen, for news of their terrible doings had gone before them, and their coming was expected. When they drew near the town they saw the flag flying from the fort, and they knew that every preparation had been made for defence. To attack such a place as this was a rash undertaking; the Spaniards had perhaps a thousand soldiers, and the pirates numbered but three hundred and eighty, but L'Olonnois did not hesitate. As usual, he had no thought of bombardment, or any ordinary method of naval warfare; but at the first convenient spot he landed all his men, and having drawn them up in a body, he made them an address. He made them understand clearly the difficult piece of work which was before them; but he assured them that pirates were so much in the habit of conquering Spaniards that if they would all promise to follow him and do their best, he was certain he could take the town. He assured them that it would be an ignoble thing to give up such a grand enterprise as this simply because they found the enemy strong and so well prepared to meet them, and ended by stating that if he saw a man flinch or hold back for a second, he would pistol him with his own hand. Whereupon the pirates all shook hands and promised they would follow L'Olonnois wherever he might lead them. This they truly did, and L'Olonnois, having a very imperfect knowledge of the proper way to the town, led them into a wild bog, where this precious pack of rascals soon found themselves up to their knees in mud and water, and in spite of all the cursing and swearing which they did, they were not able to press through the bog or get out of it. In this plight they were discovered by a body of horsemen from the town, who began firing upon them. The Spaniards must now have thought that their game was almost bagged and that all they had to do was to stand on the edge of the bog and shoot down the floundering fellows who could not get away from them. But these fellows were bloody buccaneers, each one of them a great deal harder to kill than a cat, and they did not propose to stay in the bog to be shot down. With their cutlasses they hewed off branches of trees and threw these down in the bog, making a sort of rude roadway by means of which they were able to get out on solid ground. But here they found themselves confronted by a large body of Spaniards, entrenched behind earthworks. Cannon and musket were opened upon the buccaneers, and the noise and smoke were so terrible they could scarcely hear the commands of their leaders. Never before, perhaps, had pirates been engaged in such a land battle as this. Very soon the Spaniards charged from behind their earthworks, and then L'Olonnois and his men were actually obliged to fly back. If he could have found any way of retreating to his ships, L'Olonnois would doubtless have done so, in spite of his doughty words, when he addressed his men, but this was now impossible, for the Spaniards had felled trees and had made a barricade between the pirates and their ships. The buccaneers were now in a very tight place; their enemy was behind defences and firing at them steadily, without showing any intention of coming out to give the pirates a chance for what they considered a fair fight. Every now and then a buccaneer would fall, and L'Olonnois saw that as it would be utterly useless to endeavor to charge the barricade he must resort to some sort of trickery or else give up the battle. Suddenly he passed the word for every man to turn his back and run away as fast as he could from the earthworks. Away scampered the pirates, and from the valiant Spaniards there came a shout of victory. The soldiers could not be restrained from following the fugitives and putting to death every one of the cowardly rascals. Away went the buccaneers, and after them, hot and furious, came the soldiers. But as soon as the Spaniards were so far away from their entrenchments that they could not get back to them, the crafty L'Olonnois, who ran with one eye turned behind him, called a halt, his men turned, formed into battle array, and began an onslaught upon their pursuing enemy, such as these military persons had never dreamed of in their wildest imagination. We are told that over two hundred Spaniards perished in a very short time. Before a furious pirate with a cutlass a soldier with his musket seemed to have no chance at all, and very soon the Spaniards who were left alive broke and ran into the woods. The buccaneers formed into a body and marched toward the town, which surrendered without firing a gun, and L'Olonnois and his men, who, but an hour before, had been in danger of being shot down by their enemy as if they had been rabbits in a pen, now marched boldly into the centre of the town, pulled down the Spanish flag, and hoisted their own in its place. They were the masters of Gibraltar. Never had ambitious villany been more successful. Chapter XV A Just Reward When L'Olonnois and his buccaneers entered the town of Gibraltar they found that the greater part of the inhabitants had fled, but there were many people left, and these were made prisoners as fast as they were discovered. They were all forced to go into the great church, and then the pirates, fearing that the Spaniards outside of the town might be reënforced and come back again to attack them, carried a number of cannon into the church and fortified the building. When this had been done, they felt safe and began to act as if they had been a menagerie of wild beasts let loose upon a body of defenceless men, women, and children. Not only did these wretched men rush into the houses, stealing everything valuable they could find and were able to carry away, but when they had gathered together all they could discover they tortured their poor prisoners by every cruel method they could think of, in order to make them tell where more treasures were concealed. Many of these unfortunates had had nothing to hide, and therefore could give no information to their brutal inquisitors, and others died without telling what they had done with their valuables. When the town had been thoroughly searched and sifted, the pirates sent men out into the little villages and plantations in the country, and even hunters and small farmers were captured and made to give up everything they possessed which was worth taking. For nearly three weeks these outrageous proceedings continued, and to prove that they were lower than the brute beasts they allowed the greater number of the prisoners collected in the church, to perish of hunger. There were not provisions enough in the town for the pirates' own uses and for these miserable creatures also, and so, with the exception of a small quantity of mule flesh, which many of the prisoners could not eat, they got nothing whatever, and slowly starved. When L'Olonnois and his friends had been in possession of Gibraltar for about a month, they thought it was time to leave, but their greedy souls were not satisfied with the booty they had already obtained, and they therefore sent messages to the Spaniards who were still concealed in the forests, that unless in the course of two days a ransom of ten thousand pieces of eight were paid to them, they would burn the town to the ground. No matter what they thought of this heartless demand, it was not easy for the scattered citizens to collect such a sum as this, and the two days passed without the payment of the ransom, and the relentless pirates promptly carried out their threat and set the town on fire in various places. When the poor Spaniards saw this and perceived that they were about to lose even their homes, they sent to the town and promised that if the pirates would put out the fires they would pay the money. In the hope of more money, and not in the least moved by any feeling of kindness, L'Olonnois ordered his men to help put out the fires, but they were not extinguished until a quarter of the town was entirely burned and a fine church reduced to ashes. When the buccaneers found they could squeeze nothing more out of the town, they went on board their ships, carrying with them all the plunder and booty they had collected, and among their spoils were about five hundred slaves, of all ages and both sexes, who had been offered an opportunity to ransom themselves, but who, of course, had no money with which to buy their freedom, and who were now condemned to a captivity worse than anything they had ever known before. Now the eight ships with their demon crews sailed away over the lake toward Maracaibo. It was quite possible for them to get out to sea without revisiting this unfortunate town, but as this would have been a very good thing for them to do, it was impossible for them to do it; no chance to do anything wicked was ever missed by these pirates. Consequently L'Olonnois gave orders to drop anchor near the city, and then he sent some messengers ashore to inform the already half-ruined citizens that unless they sent him thirty thousand pieces of eight he would enter their town again, carry away everything they had left, and burn the place to the ground. The poor citizens sent a committee to confer with the pirates, and while the negotiations were going on some of the conscienceless buccaneers went on shore and carried off from one of the great churches its images, pictures, and even its bells. It was at last arranged that the citizens should pay twenty thousand pieces of eight, which was the utmost sum they could possibly raise, and, in addition to this, five hundred head of beef-cattle, and the pirates promised that if this were done they would depart and molest the town no more. The money was paid, the cattle were put on board the ships, and to the unspeakable relief of the citizens, the pirate fleet sailed away from the harbor. But it would be difficult to express the horror and dismay of those same citizens when, three days afterward, those pirate ships all came back again. Black despair now fell upon the town; there was nothing more to be stolen, and these wretches must have repented that they had left the town standing, and had returned to burn it down. But when one man came ashore in a boat bringing the intelligence that L'Olonnois could not get his largest ship across a bar at the entrance to the lake, and that he wanted a pilot to show him the channel, then the spirits of the people went up like one great united rocket, bursting into the most beautiful coruscations of sparks and colors. There was nothing on earth that they would be so glad to furnish him as a pilot to show him how to sail away from their shores. The pilot was instantly sent to the fleet, and L'Olonnois and his devastating band departed. They did not go directly to Tortuga, but stopped at a little island near Hispaniola, which was inhabited by French buccaneers, and this delay was made entirely for the purpose of dividing the booty. It seems strange that any principle of right and justice should have been regarded by these dishonest knaves, even in their relations to each other, but they had rigid rules in regard to the division of their spoils, and according to these curious regulations the whole amount of plunder was apportioned among the officers and crews of the different ships. Before the regular allotment of shares was made, the claims of the wounded were fully satisfied according to their established code. For the loss of a right arm a man was paid about six hundred dollars or six slaves; for the loss of a left arm, five hundred dollars, or five slaves; for a missing right leg, five hundred dollars, or five slaves; for a missing left leg, four hundred dollars, or four slaves; for an eye or a finger, one hundred dollars, or one slave. Then the rest of the money and spoils were divided among all the buccaneers without reference to what had been paid to the wounded. The shares of those who had been killed were given to friends or acquaintances, who undertook to deliver them to their families. The spoils in this case consisted of two hundred and sixty thousand dollars in money and a great quantity of valuable goods, besides many slaves and precious stones and jewels. These latter were apportioned among the men in the most ridiculous manner, the pirates having no idea of the relative value of the jewels, some of them preferring large and worthless colored stones to smaller diamonds and rubies. When all their wickedly gained property had been divided, the pirates sailed to Tortuga, where they proceeded, without loss of time, to get rid of the wealth they had amassed. They ate, they drank, they gambled; they crowded the taverns as taverns have never been crowded before; they sold their valuable merchandise for a twentieth part of its value to some of the more level-headed people of the place; and having rioted, gambled, and committed every sort of extravagance for about three weeks, the majority of L'Olonnois' rascally crew found themselves as poor as when they had started off on their expedition. It took them almost as long to divide their spoils as it did to get rid of them. As these precious rascals had now nothing to live upon, it was necessary to start out again and commit some more acts of robbery and ruin; and L'Olonnois, whose rapacious mind seems to have been filled with a desire for town-destroying, projected an expedition to Nicaragua, where he proposed to pillage and devastate as many towns and villages as possible. His reputation as a successful commander was now so high that he had no trouble in getting men, for more offered themselves than he could possibly take. He departed with seven hundred men and six ships, stopping on the way near the coast of Cuba, and robbing some poor fishermen of their boats, which he would need in shallow water. Their voyage was a very long one, and they were beset by calms, and instead of reaching Nicaragua, they drifted into the Gulf of Honduras. Here they found themselves nearly out of provisions, and were obliged to land and scour the country to find something to eat. Leaving their ships, they began a land march through the unfortunate region where they now found themselves. They robbed Indians, they robbed villages; they devastated little towns, taking everything that they cared for, and burning what they did not want, and treating the people they captured with viler cruelties than any in which the buccaneers had yet indulged. Their great object was to take everything they could find, and then try to make the people confess where other things were hidden. Men and women were hacked to pieces with swords; it was L'Olonnois' pleasure, when a poor victim had nothing to tell, to tear out his tongue with his own hands, and it is said that on some occasions his fury was so great that he would cut out the heart of a man and bite at it with his great teeth. No more dreadful miseries could be conceived than those inflicted upon the peaceful inhabitants of the country through which these wretches passed. They frequently met ambuscades of Spaniards, who endeavored to stop their progress; but this was impossible. The pirates were too strong in number and too savage in disposition to be resisted by ordinary Christians, and they kept on their wicked way. At last they reached a town called San Pedro, which was fairly well defended, having around it a great hedge of prickly thorns; but thorns cannot keep out pirates, and after a severe fight the citizens surrendered, on condition that they should have two hours' truce. This was given, and the time was occupied by the people in running away into the woods and carrying off their valuables. But when the two hours had expired, L'Olonnois and his men entered the town, and instead of rummaging around to see what they could find, they followed the unfortunate people into the woods, for they well understood what they wanted when they asked for a truce, and robbed them of nearly everything they had taken away. But the capture of this town was not of much service to L'Olonnois, who did not find provisions enough to feed his men. Their supplies ran very low, and it was not long before they were in danger of starvation. Consequently they made their way by the most direct course to the coast, where they hoped to be able to get something to eat. If they could find nothing else, they might at least catch fish. On their way every rascal of them prepared himself a net, made out of the fibres of a certain plant, which grew in abundance in those regions, in order that he might catch himself a supper when he reached the sea. After a time the buccaneers got back to their fleet and remained on the coast about three months, waiting for some expected Spanish ships, which they hoped to capture. They eventually met with one, and after a great deal of ordinary fighting and stratagem they boarded and took her, but found her not a very valuable prize. Now L'Olonnois proposed to his men that they should sail for Guatemala, but he met with an unexpected obstacle; the buccaneers who had enlisted under him had expected to make great fortunes in this expedition, but their high hopes had not been realized. They had had very little booty and very little food, they were hungry and disappointed and wanted to go home, and the great majority of them declined to follow L'Olonnois any farther. But there were some who declared that they would rather die than go home to Tortuga as poor as when they left it, and so remained with L'Olonnois on the biggest ship of the fleet, which he commanded. The smaller vessels now departed for Tortuga, and after some trouble L'Olonnois succeeded in getting his vessel out of the harbor where it had been anchored, and sailed for the islands of de las Pertas. Here he had the misfortune to run his big vessel hopelessly aground. When they found it absolutely impossible to get their great vessel off the sand banks, the pirates set to work to break her up and build a boat out of her planks. This was a serious undertaking, but it was all they could do. They could not swim away, and their ship was of no use to them as she was. But when they began to work they had no idea it would take so long to build a boat. It was several months before the unwieldy craft was finished, and they occupied part of the time in gardening, planting French beans, which came to maturity in six weeks, and gave them some fresh vegetables. They also had some stores and portable stoves on board their dismantled ship, and made bread from some wheat which was among their provisions, thus managing to live very well. L'Olonnois was never intended by nature to be a boat-builder, or anything else that was useful and honest, and when the boat was finished it was discovered that it had been planned so badly that it would not hold them all, so all they could do was to draw lots to see who should embark in her, for one-half of them would have to stay until the others came back to release them. Of course L'Olonnois went away in the boat, and reached the mouth of the Nicaragua River. There his party was attacked by some Spaniards and Indians, who killed more than half of them and prevented the others from landing. L'Olonnois and the rest of his men got safely away, and they might now have sailed back to the island where they had left their comrades, for there was room enough for them all in the boat. But they did nothing of the sort, but went to the coast of Cartagena. The pirates left on the island were eventually taken off by a buccaneering vessel, but L'Olonnois had now reached the end of the string by which the devil had allowed him to gambol on this earth for so long a time. On the shores where he had now landed he did not find prosperous villages, treasure houses, and peaceful inhabitants, who could be robbed and tortured, but instead of these he came upon a community of Indians, who were called by the Spaniards, Bravos, or wild men. These people would never have anything to do with the whites. It was impossible to conquer them or to pacify them by kind treatment. They hated the white man and would have nothing to do with him. They had heard of L'Olonnois and his buccaneers, and when they found this notorious pirate upon their shores they were filled with a fury such as they had never felt for any others of his race. These bloody pirates had always conquered in their desperate fights because they were so reckless and so savage, but now they had fallen among thoroughbred savages, more cruel and more brutal and pitiless than themselves. Nearly all the buccaneers were killed, and L'Olonnois was taken prisoner. His furious captors tore his living body apart, piece by piece, and threw each fragment into the fire, and when the whole of this most inhuman of inhuman men had been entirely consumed, they scattered his ashes to the winds so that not a trace should remain on earth of this monster. If, in his infancy, he had died of croup, the history of the human race would have lost some of its blackest pages. Chapter XVI A Pirate Potentate Sometime in the last half of the seventeenth century on a quiet farm in a secluded part of Wales there was born a little boy baby. His father was a farmer, and his mother churned, and tended the cows and the chickens, and there was no reason to imagine that this gentle little baby, born and reared in this rural solitude, would become one of the most formidable pirates that the world ever knew. Yet such was the case. The baby's name was Henry Morgan, and as he grew to be a big boy a distaste for farming grew with him. So strong was his dislike that when he became a young man he ran away to the seacoast, for he had a fancy to be a sailor. There he found a ship bound for the West Indies, and in this he started out on his life's career. He had no money to pay his passage, and he therefore followed the usual custom of those days and sold himself for a term of three years to an agent who was taking out a number of men to work on the plantations. In the places where these men were enlisted they were termed servants, but when they got to the new world they were generally called slaves and treated as such. When young Morgan reached the Barbadoes he was resold to a planter, and during his term of service he probably worked a good deal harder and was treated much more roughly than any of the laborers on his father's farm. But as soon as he was a free man he went to Jamaica, and there were few places in the world where a young man could be more free and more independent than in this lawless island. Here were rollicking and blustering "flibustiers," and here the young man determined to study piracy. He was not a sailor and hunter who by the force of circumstances gradually became a buccaneer, but he deliberately selected his profession, and immediately set to work to acquire a knowledge of its practice. There was a buccaneer ship about to sail from Jamaica, and on this Morgan enlisted. He was a clever fellow and very soon showed himself to be a brave and able sailor. After three or four voyages he acquired a reputation for remarkable coolness in emergencies, and showed an ability to take advantage of favorable circumstances, which was not possessed by many of his comrades. These prominent traits in his character became the foundation of his success. He also proved himself a very good business man, and having saved a considerable amount of money he joined with some other buccaneers and bought a ship, of which he took command. This ship soon made itself a scourge in the Spanish seas; no other buccaneering vessel was so widely known and so greatly feared, and the English people in these regions were as proud of the young Captain Morgan as if he had been a regularly commissioned admiral, cruising against an acknowledged enemy. Returning from one of his voyages Morgan found an old buccaneer, named Mansvelt, in Jamaica, who had gathered together a fleet of vessels with which he was about to sail for the mainland. This expedition seemed a promising one to Morgan, and he joined it, being elected vice-admiral of the fleet of fifteen vessels. Since the successes of L'Olonnois and others, attacks upon towns had become very popular with the buccaneers, whose leaders were getting to be tired of the retail branch of their business; that is, sailing about in one ship and capturing such merchantmen as it might fall in with. Mansvelt's expedition took with it not only six hundred fighting pirates, but one writing pirate, for John Esquemeling accompanied it, and so far as the fame and reputation of these adventurers was concerned his pen was mightier than their swords, for had it not been for his account of their deeds very little about them would have been known to the world. The fleet sailed directly for St. Catherine, an island near Costa Rica, which was strongly fortified by the Spaniards and used by them as a station for ammunition and supplies, and also as a prison. The pirates landed upon the island and made a most furious assault upon the fortifications, and although they were built of stone and well furnished with cannon, the savage assailants met with their usual good fortune. They swarmed over the walls and carried the place at the edge of the cutlass and the mouth of the pistol. In this fierce fight Morgan performed such feats of valor that even some of the Spaniards who had been taken prisoners, were forced to praise his extraordinary courage and ability as a leader. The buccaneers proceeded to make very good use of their victory. They captured some small adjoining islands and brought the cannon from them to the main fortress, which they put in a good condition of defence. Here they confined all their prisoners and slaves, and supplied the island with an abundance of stores and provisions. It is believed that when Mansvelt formed the plan of capturing this island he did so with the idea of founding there a permanent pirate principality, the inhabitants of which should not consider themselves English, French, or Dutch, but plain pirates, having a nationality and country of their own. Had the seed thus planted by Mansvelt and Morgan grown and matured, it is not unlikely that the whole of the West Indies might now be owned and inhabited by an independent nation, whose founders were the bold buccaneers. When everything had been made tight and right at St. Catherine, Mansvelt and Morgan sailed for the mainland, for the purpose of attacking an inland town called Nata, but in this expedition they were not successful. The Spanish Governor of the province had heard of their approach, and met them with a body of soldiers so large that they prudently gave up the attempt,--a proceeding not very common with them, but Morgan was not only a dare-devil of a pirate, but a very shrewd Welshman. They returned to the ships, and after touching at St. Catherine and leaving there enough men to defend it, under the command of a Frenchman named Le Sieur Simon, they sailed for Jamaica. Everything at St. Catherine was arranged for permanent occupation; there was plenty of fresh water, and the ground could be cultivated, and Simon was promised that additional forces should be sent him so that he could hold the island as a regular station for the assembling and fitting out of pirate vessels. The permanent pirate colony never came to anything; no reënforcements were sent; Mansvelt died, and the Spaniards gathered together a sufficient force to retake the island of St. Catherine, and make prisoners of Simon and his men. This was a blow to Morgan, who had had great hopes of the fortified station he thought he had so firmly established, but after the project failed he set about forming another expedition. He was now recognized as buccaneer-in-chief of the West Indies, and he very soon gathered together twelve ships and seven hundred men. Everything was made ready to sail, and the only thing left to be done was to decide what particular place they should favor with a visit. There were some who advised an attack upon Havana, giving as a reason that in that city there were a great many nuns, monks, and priests, and if they could capture them, they might ask as ransom for them, a sum a great deal larger than they could expect to get from the pillage of an ordinary town. But Havana was considered to be too strong a place for a profitable venture, and after several suggestions had been made, at last a deserter from the Spanish army, who had joined them, came forward with a good idea. He told the pirates of a town in Cuba, to which he knew the way; it was named Port-au-Prince, and was situated so far inland that it had never been sacked. When the pirates heard that there existed an entirely fresh and unpillaged town, they were filled with as much excited delight as if they had been a party of school-boys who had just been told where they might find a tree full of ripe apples which had been overlooked by the men who had been gathering the crop. When Morgan's fleet arrived at the nearest harbor to Port-au-Prince, he landed his men and marched toward the town, but he did not succeed in making a secret attack, as he had hoped. One of his prisoners, a Spaniard, let himself drop overboard as soon as the vessels cast anchor, and swimming ashore, hurried to Port-au-Prince and informed the Governor of the attack which was about to be made on the town. Thus prepared, this able commander knew just what to do. He marched a body of soldiers along the road by which the pirates must come, and when he found a suitable spot he caused great trees to be cut down and laid across the road, thus making a formidable barricade. Behind this his soldiers were posted with their muskets and their cannon, and when the pirates should arrive they would find that they would have to do some extraordinary fighting before they could pass this well-defended barrier. When Morgan came within sight of this barricade, he understood that the Spaniards had discovered his approach, and so he called a halt. He had always been opposed to unnecessary work, and he considered that it would be entirely unnecessary to attempt to disturb this admirable defence, so he left the road, marched his men into the woods, led them entirely around the barricades, and then, after proceeding a considerable distance, emerged upon a wide plain which lay before the town. Here he found that he would have to fight his way into the city, and, probably much to his surprise, his men were presently charged by a body of cavalry. Pirates, as a rule, have nothing to do with horses, either in peace or war, and the Governor of the town no doubt thought that when his well-armed horsemen charged upon these men, accustomed to fighting on the decks of ships, and totally unused to cavalry combats, he would soon scatter and disperse them. But pirates are peculiar fighters; if they had been attacked from above by means of balloons, or from below by mines and explosives, they would doubtless have adapted their style of defence to the method of attack. They always did this, and according to Esquemeling they nearly always got the better of their enemies; but we must remember that in cases where they did not succeed, as happened when they marched against the town of Nata, he says very little about the affair and amplifies only the accounts of their successes. But the pirates routed the horsemen, and, after a fight of about four hours, they routed all the other Spaniards who resisted them, and took possession of the town. Here they captured a great many prisoners which they shut up in the churches and then sent detachments out into the country to look for those who had run away. Then these utterly debased and cruel men began their usual course after capturing a town; they pillaged, feasted, and rioted; they gave no thought to the needs of the prisoners whom they had shut up in the churches, many of whom starved to death; they tortured the poor people to make them tell where they had hid their treasures, and nothing was too vile or too wicked for them to do if they thought they could profit by it. They had come for the express purpose of taking everything that the people possessed, and until they had forced from them all that was of the slightest value, they were not satisfied. Even when the poor citizens seemed to have given up everything they owned they were informed that if they did not pay two heavy ransoms, one to protect themselves from being carried away into slavery, and one to keep their town from being burned, the same punishments would be inflicted upon them. For two weeks the pirates waited for the unfortunate citizens to go out into the country and find some of their townsmen who had escaped with a portion of their treasure. In those days people did not keep their wealth in banks as they do now, but every man was the custodian of most of his own possessions, and when they fled from the visitation of an enemy they took with them everything of value that they could carry. If their fortunes had been deposited in banks, it would doubtless have been more convenient for the pirates. Before the citizens returned Morgan made a discovery: a negro was captured who carried letters from the Governor of Santiago, a neighboring city, to some of the citizens of Port-au-Prince, telling them not to be in too great a hurry to pay the ransom demanded by the pirates, because he was coming with a strong force to their assistance. When Morgan read these letters, he changed his mind, and thought it would be a wise thing not to stay in that region any longer than could be helped. So he decided not to wait for the unfortunate citizens to collect the heavy ransom he demanded, but told them that if they would furnish him with five hundred head of cattle, and also supply salt and help prepare the meat for shipment, he would make no further demands upon them. This, of course, the citizens were glad enough to do, and when the buccaneers had carried to the ships everything they had stolen, and when the beef had been put on board, they sailed away. Morgan directed the course of the fleet to a small island on which he wished to land in order that they might take an account of stock and divide the profits. This the pirates always did as soon as possible after they had concluded one of their nefarious enterprises. But his men were not at all satisfied with what happened on the island. Morgan estimated the total value of the booty to be about fifty thousand dollars, and when this comparatively small sum was divided, many of the men complained that it would not give them enough to pay their debts in Jamaica. They were utterly astonished that after having sacked an entirely fresh town they should have so little, and there is no doubt that many of them believed that their leader was a man who carried on the business of piracy for the purpose of enriching himself, while he gave his followers barely enough to keep them quiet. There was, however, another cause of discontent among a large body of the men; it appears that the men were very fond of marrow-bones, and while they were yet at Port-au-Prince and the prisoners were salting the meat which was to go on the ships, the buccaneers went about among them and took the marrow-bones which they cooked and ate while they were fresh. One of the men, a Frenchman, had selected a very fine bone, and had put it by his side while he was preparing some other tidbits, when an Englishman came along, picked up the bone, and carried it away. Now even in the chronicles of Mother Goose we are told of the intimate connection between Welshmen, thievery, and marrow-bones; for "Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief, Taffy came to my house And stole a leg of beef. "I went to Taffy's house, Taffy wasn't home, Taffy went to my house, And stole a marrow-bone." What happened to Taffy we do not know, but Morgan was a Welshman, Morgan was a thief, and one of his men had stolen a marrow-bone; therefore came trouble. The Frenchman challenged the Englishman; but the latter, being a mean scoundrel, took advantage of his opponent, unfairly stabbed him in the back and killed him. Now all the Frenchmen in the company rose in furious protest, and Morgan, wishing to pacify them, had the English assassin put in chains, and promised that he would take him to Jamaica and deliver him to justice. But the Frenchmen declined to be satisfied; they had received but very little money after they had pillaged a rich town, and they believed that their English companions were inclined to take advantage of them in every way, and consequently the greater part of them banded together and deliberately deserted Morgan, who was obliged to go back to Jamaica with not more than half his regular forces, doubtless wishing that the cattle on the island of Cuba had been able to get along without marrow-bones. Chapter XVII How Morgan was helped by Some Religious People When the Welsh buccaneer started out on another expedition his company consisted entirely of Englishmen, and was not nearly so large as it had been; when he announced to his followers that he intended to attack the fortified town of Porto Bello, on the mainland, there was a general murmuring among the men, for Porto Bello was one of the strongest towns possessed by the Spaniards, and the buccaneers did not believe that their comparatively small force would be able to take it. But Morgan made them a speech in which he endeavored to encourage them to follow him in this difficult undertaking. One of his arguments was, that although their numbers were small, their hearts were large; but he produced the greatest effect upon them when he said that as they were but a few, each man's share of the booty would be much larger than if it must be divided among a great number. This touched the souls of the pirates, and they vowed to follow their leader wherever he might take them. The buccaneers found Porto Bello a very hard nut to crack; they landed and marched upon the town, which was defended by several forts or castles. Even when one of these had been taken by assault, and after it had been blown up with all its garrison, who had been taken prisoners, still the town was not intimidated, and the Governor vowed he would never surrender, but would die fighting to the last. The pirates raged like demons; they shot down every man they could see at the cannon or upon the walls, and they made desperate efforts to capture the principal fort, but they did not succeed, and after a long time Morgan began to despair. The garrison was strong and well commanded, and whenever the pirates attempted to scale the wall they were shot down, while fire-pots full of powder, with stones and other missiles, were hurled upon them. At last the wily Morgan had an idea. He set his men to work to make some ladders high enough to reach to the top of the walls, and wide enough to allow three or four men to go up abreast. If he could get these properly set up, his crew of desperate tiger-cats could make a combined rush and get over the walls. But to carry the ladders and place them would be almost impossible, for the men who bore them would surely be shot down before they could finish the work. But it was not Morgan's plan that his men should carry these ladders. He had captured some convents in the suburbs of the town, with a number of nuns and monks, known as "religious people," and he now ordered these poor creatures, the women as well as the men, to take up the ladders and place them against the walls, believing that the Spanish Governor would not allow his soldiers to fire at these innocent persons whom the pirates had forced to do their will. But the Governor was determined to defend the town no matter who had to suffer, and so the soldiers fired at the nuns and monks just as though they were buccaneers or any other enemies. The "religious people" cried out in terror, and screamed to their friends not to fire upon them; but the soldiers obeyed the commands of the Governor, while the pirates were swearing terribly behind them and threatening them with their pistols, and so the poor nuns and monks had to press forward, many of them dropping dead or wounded. They continued their work until the ladders were placed, and then over the walls went the pirates, with yells and howls of triumph, and not long after that the town was taken. The Governor died, fighting in the principal fort, and the citizens and soldiers all united in the most vigorous defence; but it was of no use. Each pirate seemed to have not only nine lives, but nine arms, each one wielding a cutlass or aiming a pistol. When the fighting was over, the second act in the horrible drama took place as usual. The pirates ate, drank, rioted, and committed all manner of outrages and cruelties upon the inhabitants, closing the performance with the customary threat that if the already distressed and impoverished inhabitants did not pay an enormous ransom, their town would be burned. Before the ransom was paid, the Governor of Panama heard what was going on at Porto Bello, and sent a force to the assistance of the town, but this time the buccaneers did not hastily retreat, Morgan knew of a narrow defile through which the Spanish forces must pass, and there he posted a number of his men, who defended the pass so well that the Spaniards were obliged to retreat. This Governor must have been a student of military science; he was utterly astounded when he heard that this pirate leader, with less than four hundred men, had captured the redoubtable town of Porto Bello, defended by a strong garrison and inhabited by citizens who were brave and accustomed to fighting, and, being anxious to increase his knowledge of improved methods of warfare, he sent a messenger to Morgan "desiring him to send him some small pattern of those arms wherewith he had taken with such violence so great a city." The pirate leader received the messenger with much courtesy, and sent to the Governor a pistol and a few balls, "desiring him to accept that slender pattern of the arms wherewith he had taken Porto Bello, and keep them for a twelvemonth; after which time he promised to come to Panama and fetch them away." This courteous correspondence was continued by the Governor returning the pistol and balls with thanks, and also sending Morgan a handsome gold ring with the message that he need not trouble himself to come to Panama; for, if he did, he would meet with very different fortune from that which had come to him at Porto Bello. Morgan put the ring on his finger and postponed his reply, and, as soon as the ransom was paid, he put his booty on board his ships and departed. When the spoils of Porto Bello came to be counted, it was found that they were of great value, and each man received a lordly share. When Captain Morgan was ready to set out on another expedition, he found plenty of pirates ready to join him, and he commanded all the ships and men whom he enlisted to rendezvous at a place called the Isle of Cows. A fine, large, English ship had recently come to Jamaica from New England, and this vessel also joined Morgan's forces on the island, where the pirate leader took this ship as his own, being much the best and largest vessel of the fleet. Besides the ships belonging to Morgan, there was in the harbor where they were now congregated, a fine vessel belonging to some French buccaneers, and Morgan desired very much that this vessel should join his fleet, but the French cherished hard feelings against the English, and would not join them. Although Morgan was a brave man, his meanness was quite equal to his courage, and he determined to be revenged upon these Frenchmen who had refused to give him their aid, and therefore played a malicious trick upon them. Sometime before, this French vessel, being out of provisions when upon the high seas, had met an English ship, and had taken from her such supplies as it had needed. The captain did not pay for these, being out of money as well as food, not an uncommon thing among buccaneers, but they gave the English notes of exchange payable in Jamaica; but as these notes were never honored, the people of the English ship had never been paid for their provisions. This affair properly arranged in Morgan's mind, he sent a very polite note to the captain of the French ship and some of his officers, inviting them to dine with him on his own vessel. The French accepted the invitation, but when Morgan received them on board his ship he did not conduct them down to dinner; instead of that, he began to upbraid them for the manner in which they had treated an English crew, and then he ordered them to be taken down below and imprisoned in the hold. Having accomplished this, and feeling greatly elated by this piece of sly vengeance, he went into his fine cabin, and he and his officers sat down to the grand feast he had prepared. There were fine times on board this great English ship; the pirates were about to set forth on an important expedition, and they celebrated the occasion by eating and drinking, firing guns, and all manner of riotous hilarity. In the midst of the wild festivities--and nobody knew how it happened--a spark of fire got into the powder magazine, and the ship blew up, sending the lifeless bodies of three hundred English sailors, and the French prisoners, high into the air. The only persons on board who escaped were Morgan and his officers who were in the cabin close to the stern of the vessel, at some distance from the magazine. This terrible accident threw the pirate fleet into great confusion for a time; but Morgan soon recovered himself, and, casting about to see what was the best thing to be done, it came into his head that he would act the part of the wolf in the fable of the wolf and the lamb. As there was no way of finding out how the magazine happened to explode, he took the ground that the French prisoners whom he had shut up in the hold, had thrown a lighted match into the magazine, wishing thus to revenge themselves even though they should, at the same time, lose their own lives. The people of the French ship bitterly opposed any such view of the case, but their protestations were of no use; they might declare as much as they pleased that it was impossible for them to make the waters muddy, being lower down in the stream than the wolfish pirate who was accusing them, but it availed nothing. Morgan sprang upon them and their ship, and sent them to Jamaica, where, upon his false charge, they were shut up in prison, and so remained for a long time. Such atrocious wickedness as the treatment of the nuns and monks, described in this chapter, would never have been countenanced in any warfare between civilized nations. But Morgan's pirates were not making war; they were robbers and murderers on a grand scale. They had no right to call themselves civilized; they were worse than barbarians. [Illustration: "Morgan began to upbraid them, and ordered them taken below."--p. 151.] Chapter XVIII A Piratical Aftermath Morgan's destination was the isle of Savona, near which a great Spanish fleet was expected to pass, and here he hoped to make some rich prizes. But when he got out to sea he met with contrary and dangerous winds, which delayed him a long time, and eventually when he arrived at Savona, after having landed at various places, where he pillaged, murdered, and burned, according to the extent of his opportunities, he found at least one-half of his men and ships had not arrived. With the small force which he now had with him he could not set out to attack a Spanish fleet, and therefore he was glad to accept the suggestion made to him by a Frenchman who happened to be in his company. This man had been with L'Olonnois two years before when that bloody pirate had sacked the towns of Maracaibo and Gibraltar; he had made himself perfectly familiar with the fortifications and defences of these towns, and he told Morgan that it would be easy to take them. To be sure they had been thoroughly sacked before, and therefore did not offer the tempting inducements of perfectly fresh towns, such as Port-au-Prince, but still in two years the inhabitants must have gathered together some possessions desirable to pirates, and therefore, although Morgan could not go to these towns with the expectation of reaping a full harvest, he might at least gather up an aftermath which would pay him for his trouble. So away sailed this horde of ravenous scoundrels for the lake of Maracaibo, at the outer end of which lay the town of Maracaibo, and at the other extremity the town of Gibraltar. When they had sailed near enough to the fortifications they anchored out of sight of the watch-tower and, landing in the night, marched on one of the forts. Here the career of Morgan came very near closing forever. The Spaniards had discovered the approach of the pirates, and this fort had been converted into a great trap in which the citizens hoped to capture and destroy the pirate leader and his men. Everybody had left the fort, the gates were open, and a slow-match, communicating with the magazine, had been lighted just before the last Spaniard had left. But the oldest and most sagacious of rats would be no more difficult to entrap than was the wily pirate Morgan. When he entered the open gates of the fort and found everything in perfect order, he suspected a trick, and looking about him he soon saw the smouldering match. Instantly he made a dash at it, seized it and extinguished the fire. Had he been delayed in this discovery a quarter of an hour longer, he and his men would have been blown to pieces along with the fort. Now the pirates pressed on toward the town, but they met with no resistance. The Spaniards, having failed to blow up their dreaded enemies, had retreated into the surrounding country and had left the town. The triumphant pirates spread themselves everywhere. They searched the abandoned town for people and valuables, and every man who cared to do so took one of the empty houses for his private residence. They made the church the common meeting-place where they might all gather together when it was necessary, and when they had spent the night in eating and drinking all the good things they could find, they set out the next day to hunt for the fugitive citizens. For three weeks Morgan and his men held a devil's carnival in Maracaibo. To tell of the abominable tortures and cruelties which they inflicted upon the poor people, whom they dragged from their hiding-places in the surrounding country, would make our flesh creep and our blood run cold. When they could do no more evil they sailed away up the lake for Gibraltar. It is not necessary to tell the story of the taking of this town. When Morgan arrived there he found it also entirely deserted. The awful dread of the human beasts who were coming upon them had forced the inhabitants to fly. In the whole town only one man was left, and he was an idiot who had not sense enough to run away. This poor fellow was tortured to tell where his treasures were hid, and when he consented to take them to the place where he had concealed his possessions, they found a few broken earthen dishes, and a little bit of money, about as much as a poor imbecile might be supposed to possess. Thereupon the disappointed fiends cruelly killed him. For five weeks the country surrounding Gibraltar was the scene of a series of diabolical horrors. The pirates undertook the most hazardous and difficult expeditions in order to find the people who had hidden themselves on islands and in the mountains, and although they obtained a great deal of booty, they met with a good many misfortunes. Some of them were drowned in swollen streams, and others lost much of their pillage by rains and storms. At last, after having closed his vile proceedings in the ordinary pirate fashion, by threatening to burn the town if he were not paid a ransom, Morgan thought it time for him to depart, for if the Spaniards should collect a sufficient force at Maracaibo to keep him from getting out of the lake, he would indeed be caught in a trap. The ransom was partly paid and partly promised, and Morgan and his men departed, carrying with them some hostages for the rest of the ransom due. When Morgan and his fleet arrived at Maracaibo, they found the town still deserted, but they also discovered that they were caught in the trap which they had feared, out of which they saw no way of escaping. News had been sent the Spanish forces; of the capture and sacking of Maracaibo, and three large men-of-war now lay in the channel below the town which led from the lake into the sea. And more than this, the castle which defended the entrance to the lake, and which the pirates had found empty when they arrived, was now well manned and supplied with a great many cannon, so that for once in their lives these wicked buccaneers were almost discouraged. Their little ships could not stand against the men-of-war; and in any case they could not pass the castle, which was now prepared to blow them to pieces if they should come near enough. But in the midst of these disheartening circumstances, the pirate leader showed what an arrogant, blustering dare-devil he was, for, instead of admitting his discomfiture and trying to make terms with the Spaniards, he sent a letter to the admiral of the ships, in which he stated that if he did not allow him a free passage out to sea he would burn every house in Maracaibo. To this insolent threat, the Spanish admiral replied in a long letter, in which he told Morgan that if he attempted to leave the lake he would fire upon his ships, and, if necessary, follow them out to sea, until not a stick of one of them should be left. But in the great magnanimity of his soul he declared that he would allow Morgan to sail away freely, provided he would deliver all the booty he had captured, together with the prisoners and slaves, and promise to go home and abandon buccaneering forever. In case he declined these terms, the admiral declared he would come up the channel in boats filled with his soldiers and put every pirate to the sword. When Morgan received this letter, he called his men together in the public square of the town, and asked them what they would do, and when these fellows heard that they were asked to give up all their booty, they unanimously voted that they would perish rather than do such an unmanly thing as that. So it was agreed that they would fight themselves out of the lake of Maracaibo, or stay there, dead or alive, as the case might be. Chapter XIX A Tight Place for Morgan At this important crisis again turned up the man with an idea. This was an inventive buccaneer, who proposed to Morgan that they should take a medium-sized ship which they had captured at the other end of the lake, and make a fire-ship of her. In order that the Spaniards might not suspect the character of this incendiary craft, he proposed that they should fit her up like one of the pirate war-vessels, for in this case the Spaniards would not try to get away from her, but would be glad to have her come near enough for them to capture her. Morgan was pleased with this plan, and the fire-ship was prepared with all haste. All the pitch, tar, and brimstone in the town were put on board of her, together with other combustibles. On the deck were placed logs of wood, which were dressed up in coats and hats to look like men, and by their sides were muskets and cutlasses. Portholes were made, and in these were placed other logs to represent cannon. Thus this merchant vessel, now as inflammable as a pine knot, was made to resemble a somewhat formidable pirate ship. The rest of the fleet was made ready, the valuables and prisoners and slaves were put on board; and they all sailed boldly down toward the Spanish vessels, the fire-ship in front. When the Spanish admiral saw this insignificant fleet approaching, he made ready to sink it to the bottom, and when the leading vessel made its way directly toward his own ship, as if with the impudent intention of boarding her, he did not fire at her, but let her come on. The few pirates on board the fire-ship ran her up against the side of the great man-of-war; and after making her fast and applying their matches, they immediately slipped overboard, and swam to one of their own vessels before the Spaniards had an idea of what had happened. The fire-ship was soon ablaze, and as the flames quickly spread, the large vessel took fire, and the people on board had scarcely time to get out of her before she sank. The commander of one of the other ships was so much frightened by what had occurred in so short a space of time that he ran his vessel aground and wrecked her, her men jumping out into the water and making for the land. As for the other ship, the pirates boldly attacked her and captured her, and as she was a very fine vessel, Morgan left his own small vessel, in which he had been commanding his fleet, and took possession of her. Thus, in a very short time, the whole state of affairs was changed. The Spaniards had no ships at all, and Morgan was in command of a very fine vessel, in which he led his triumphant fleet. Victory is a grand thing to a pirate as it is to every human being who has been engaged in a conflict, but none of the joys of triumph could equal the sordid rapacity of Morgan and his men. They spent days in trying to recover the money and plate which were on board the sunken Spanish ships. The sterns of these projected above water, and a great deal of valuable treasure was recovered from them. The pirates worked very hard at this, although they had not the slightest idea how they were to pass the castle and get away with the plunder after they had obtained it. When the wrecks had been stripped of everything of value, the time came for demanding a ransom for not burning the town and hanging the prisoners, and as the poor citizens knew very well what they might expect, they sent word to the admiral, who had escaped to the castle, begging him to accede to the demands of Morgan, and to let the wretched pirates go. But the admiral, Don Alonso, was a thoroughbred Spaniard, and he would listen to no such cowardly suggestion. He would consent to no ransom being paid, and on no account would he allow the pirates to pass the channel. The citizens, however, who knew what was good for them, raised the money, and paid the ransom in coin and cattle, and Morgan declared that if the admiral would not let him out of the lake, he would have to attend to that matter himself. But before he made another bold stroke against the enemy his stingy and niggardly spirit urged him to defend himself against his friends, and before endeavoring to leave he ordered a division of the spoils. Many of the goods taken from the two towns were on board the different vessels of the fleet, and he was very much afraid that if his comrades, who commanded the other ships, should be so fortunate as to get out to sea, they would sail away with the booty they carried, and he would not see any of it. Therefore, the booty from every ship was brought on board his own fine vessel, and every man was put through an examination as rigid as if he had been passing a custom house, and was obliged to prove that he had not concealed or kept back any money or jewels. The value of the plunder was very great, and when it had been divided, according to the scale which Morgan had adopted, the pirate leader felt safe. He now had his share of the prizes in his own possession, and that to him was more important than anything else in the world. The question of getting away was a very serious one; the greater part of his fleet consisted of small vessels which could not defy the guns of the fort, and as the stout hearts and brawny arms of his followers could be of no use to him in this dilemma, Morgan was obliged to fall back upon his own brains; therefore, he planned a trick. When everything had been prepared for departure, Morgan anchored his fleet at a distance from the castle, but not so far away that the Spaniards could not observe his movements. Then he loaded some boats with armed men and had them rowed ashore on the side of the channel on which the castle stood. The boats landed behind a little wood, and there the men, instead of getting out, crouched themselves down in the bottom of the boats so that they should not be seen. Then the boats, apparently empty, were rowed back to the pirate ships, and in a short time, again full of men sitting, upright, with their muskets and cutlasses, they went to the shore, and soon afterwards returned apparently empty as before. This performance was repeated over and over again, until the people in the castle were convinced that Morgan was putting his men on shore in order to make a land attack upon the rear of the castle during the night. But the Spanish admiral was not to be caught by any such clumsy stratagem as that, and, therefore, in great haste he had his big cannon moved to the land side of the fort, and posted there the greater part of his garrison in order that when the pirates made their assault in the dead of the night they would meet with a reception for which they had not bargained. When it was dark, and the tide began to run out, the pirate vessels weighed anchor, and they all drifted down toward the castle. Morgan's spies had perceived some of the extraordinary movements in the Spanish fortifications, and he therefore drifted down with a good deal of confidence, although, had his trick been discovered in time it would have gone very hard with his fleet. It is probable that he had taken all these chances into consideration and had felt pretty sure that if the cannon of the fort had been opened upon them it would not have been the big ship which carried him and his precious load which would have been sunk by the great guns, and that no matter what happened to the smaller vessels and the men on board them, he and his own ship would be able to sail away. But the Spaniards did not perceive the approach of the drifting fleet, for they were intrepidly waiting at the back of the castle to make it very hot for the pirates when they should arrive. Slowly past the great walls of the fort drifted the fleet of buccaneers, and then, at a signal, every vessel hoisted its sails, and, with a good wind, sailed rapidly toward the open sea. The last pirate vessel had scarcely passed the fort when the Spaniards discovered what was going on, and in great haste they rolled their cannon back to the water side of the fort and began firing furiously, but it was of no use. The pirates sailed on until they were out of danger, and then they anchored and arranged for putting on shore the greater number of their prisoners, who were only an encumbrance to them. As a parting insult, Morgan fired seven or eight of his largest guns at the castle, whose humiliated occupants did not reply by a single shot. In order to understand what thoroughly contemptible scoundrels these pirates were it may be stated that when Morgan and his men reached Jamaica after a good deal of storm and trouble on the way, they found there many of their comrades who had not been able to join them at their rendezvous at Savona. These unfortunate fellows, who had not known where Morgan had gone and were unable to join him, had endeavored to do some piratical business of their own, but had had very little luck and a great many misfortunes. Morgan's men, with their pockets full of money, jeered and sneered at their poor comrades who had had such hard times, and without any thought of sharing with them the least portion of their own vile gains they treated them with contempt and derision. The buccaneer, Captain Henry Morgan, was now a very great personage, but with his next expedition, which was a very important one, and in its extent resembled warfare rather than piracy, we shall have little to do because his exploits in this case were not performed on our Atlantic coasts, but over the Isthmus, on the shores of the Pacific. Morgan raised a great fleet, carrying a little army of two thousand men, and with this he made his way to the other side of the Isthmus and attacked the city of Panama, which, of course, he captured. His terrible deeds at this place resembled those which he performed after the capture of the smaller towns which we have been considering, except that they were on a scale of greater magnitude. Nearly the whole of the town of Panama was burned, and the excesses, cruelties, and pillages of the conquerors were something almost without parallel. Before marching overland to Panama, Morgan had recaptured the island of St. Catherine, which was a very valuable station for his purposes, and had also taken the castle of Chagres on the mainland near by, and on his return from the conquest and pillage of the unfortunate city he and his forces gathered together at Chagres in order to divide the spoils. Now came great trouble and dissatisfaction; many of the buccaneers loudly declared that Morgan was taking everything that was really valuable for his own, especially the precious stones and jewels, and that they were getting a very small share of the booty of Panama. There seemed to be good reason for these complaints, for the sum of about two hundred dollars apiece was all that Morgan's men received after their terrible hardships and dangers and the pillage of a very rich town. The murmurings and complaints against Morgan's peculiar methods became louder and more frequent, and at last the wily Welshman began to be afraid that serious trouble would come to him if he did not take care of himself. This, however, he was very capable of doing. Silently and quietly one night, without giving notice to any of the buccaneers at Chagres, except a few who were in his secret, Morgan, in his large ship, sailed away for Jamaica, followed by only a few other vessels, containing some of his favored companions. When the great body of the buccaneers, the principal portion of which were Frenchmen, found that their leader had deserted them, there was a grand commotion, and if they had been able, the furious men who had had this trick played upon them, would have followed Morgan to treat him as they had so often treated the Spaniards. But they could not follow--Morgan had taken great care that this should not happen. Their ships were out of order; they had been left very short of provisions and ammunition, and found that not only were they unable to avenge themselves on their traitor leader, but that it would be very hard for them to get away at all. Poor Esquemeling, the literary pirate, was one of those who was left behind, and in his doleful state he made the following reflection, which we quote from his book: "Captain Morgan left us all in such a miserable condition as might serve for a lively representation of what rewards attend wickedness at the latter end of life. Whence we ought to have learned how to regulate and amend our actions for the future." After Morgan had safely reached Jamaica with all his booty, the idea renewed itself in his mind of returning to St. Catherine, fortifying the place and putting it in complete order, and then occupying it as a station for all pirates, with himself the supreme governor and king of the buccaneers. But before he had completed his arrangements for doing this there was a change in the affairs at Jamaica: the king of England, having listened to the complaints of the Spanish crown, had recalled the former Governor and put him on trial to answer for the manner in which he allowed the island to be used by the pirates for their wicked purposes against a friendly nation, and had sent a new Governor with orders to allow no buccaneers in Jamaica, and in every way to suppress piracy in those parts. Now the shrewd Morgan saw that his present business was likely to become a very undesirable one, and he accordingly determined to give it up. Having brutally pillaged and most cruelly treated the Spaniards as long as he was able to do so, and having cheated and defrauded his friends and companions to the utmost extent possible, he made up his mind to reform, and a more thoroughly base and contemptible reformed scoundrel was never seen on the face of the earth. Morgan was now a rich man, and he lost no time in becoming very respectable. He endeavored to win favor with the new Governor, and was so successful that when that official was obliged to return to England on account of his health, he left the ex-pirate in charge of the affairs of the island in the capacity of Deputy-Governor. More than this, King Charles, who apparently had heard of Morgan's great bravery and ability, and had not cared to listen to anything else about him, knighted him, and this preëminent and inhuman water-thief became Sir Henry Morgan. In his new official capacity Morgan was very severe upon his former associates, and when any of them were captured and brought before him, he condemned some to be imprisoned and some to be hung, and in every way apparently endeavored to break up the unlawful business of buccaneering. About this time John Esquemeling betook himself to Europe with all possible despatch, for he had work to do and things to tell with which the Deputy-Governor would have no sympathy whatever. He got away safely, and he wrote his book, and if he had not had this good fortune, the world would have lost a great part of the story of what happened to the soft little baby who was born among the quiet green fields of Wales. Even during the time that he was Deputy-Governor, Morgan was suspected of sharing in the gains of some buccaneers at the same time that he punished others, and after the death of Charles II. he was sent to England and imprisoned, but what eventually became of him we do not know. If he succeeded in ill-using and defrauding his Satanic Majesty, there is no record of the fact. Chapter XX The Story of a High-Minded Pirate After having considered the extraordinary performances of so many of those execrable wretches, the buccaneers, it is refreshing and satisfactory to find that there were exceptions even to the rules which governed the conduct and general make-up of the ordinary pirate of the period, and we are therefore glad enough to tell the story of a man, who, although he was an out-and-out buccaneer, possessed some peculiar characteristics which give him a place of his own in the history of piracy. In the early part of these sketches we have alluded to a gentleman of France, who, having become deeply involved in debt, could see no way of putting himself in a condition to pay his creditors but to go into business of some kind. He had no mercantile education, he had not learned any profession, and it was therefore necessary for him to do something for which a previous preparation was not absolutely essential. After having carefully considered all the methods of making money which were open to him under the circumstances, he finally concluded to take up piracy and literature. Even at the present day it is considered by many persons that one of these branches of industry is a field of action especially adapted to those who have not had the opportunity of giving the time and study necessary in any other method of making a living. The French gentleman whose adventures we are about to relate was a very different man from John Esquemeling, who was a literary pirate and nothing more. Being of a clerkly disposition, the gentle John did not pretend to use the sabre or the pistol. His part in life was simply to watch his companions fight, burn, and steal, while his only weapon was his pen, with which he set down their exploits and thereby murdered their reputations. But Monsieur Raveneau de Lussan was both buccaneer and author, and when he had finished his piratical career he wrote a book in which he gave a full account of it, thus showing that although he had not been brought up to a business life, he had very good ideas about money-making. More than that, he had very good ideas about his own reputation, and instead of leaving his exploits and adventures to be written up by other people,--that is, if any one should think it worth while to do so,--he took that business into his own hands. He was well educated, he had been brought up in good society, and as he desired to return to that society it was natural for him to wish to paint his own portrait as a buccaneer. Pictures of that kind as they were ordinarily executed were not at all agreeable to the eyes of the cultivated classes of France, and so M. de Lussan determined to give his personal attention not only to his business speculations, but to his reputation. He went out as a buccaneer in order to rob the Spaniards of treasure with which to pay his honest debts, and, in order to prevent his piratical career being described in the coarse and disagreeable fashion in which people generally wrote about pirates, he determined to write his own adventures. If a man wishes to appear well before the world, it is often a very good thing for him to write his autobiography, especially if there is anything a little shady in his career, and it may be that de Lussan's reputation as a high-minded pirate depends somewhat on the book he wrote after he had put down the sword and taken up the pen; but if he gave a more pleasing color to his proceedings than they really deserved, we ought to be glad of it. For, even if de Lussan the buccaneer was in some degree a creature of the imagination of de Lussan the author, we have a story which is much more pleasing and, in some respects, more romantic than stories of ordinary pirates could possibly be made unless the writer of such stories abandoned fact altogether and plunged blindly into fiction. Among the good qualities of de Lussan was a pious disposition. He had always been a religious person, and, being a Catholic, he had a high regard and veneration for religious buildings, for priests, and for the services of the church, and when he had crossed the Atlantic in his ship, the crew of which was composed of desperadoes of various nations, and when he had landed upon the western continent, he wished still to conform to the religious manners and customs of the old world. Having a strong force under his command and possessing, in common with most of the gentlemen of that period, a good military education, it was not long after he landed on the mainland before he captured a small town. The resistance which he met was soon overcome, and our high-minded pirate found himself in the position of a conqueror with a community at his mercy. As his piety now raised itself above all his other attributes, the first thing that he did was to repair to the principal church of the town, accompanied by all his men, and here, in accordance with his commands, a Te Deum was sung and services were conducted by the priests in charge. Then, after having properly performed his religious duties, de Lussan sent his men through the town with orders to rob the inhabitants of everything valuable they possessed. The ransacking and pillaging of the houses continued for some time, but when the last of his men had returned with the booty they had collected, the high-minded chief was dissatisfied. The town appeared to be a good deal poorer than he had expected, and as the collection seemed to be so very small, de Lussan concluded that in some way or other he must pass around the hat again. While he was wondering how he should do this he happened to hear that on a sugar plantation not very far away from the town there were some ladies of rank who, having heard of the approach of the pirates, had taken refuge there, thinking that even if the town should be captured, their savage enemies would not wander into the country to look for spoils and victims. But these ladies were greatly mistaken. When de Lussan heard where they were, he sent out a body of men to make them prisoners and bring them back to him. They might not have any money or jewels in their possession, but as they belonged to good families who were probably wealthy, a good deal of money could be made out of them by holding them and demanding a heavy ransom for their release. So the ladies were all brought to town and shut up securely until their friends and relatives managed to raise enough money to pay their ransom and set them free, and then, I have no doubt, de Lussan advised them to go to church and offer up thanks for their happy deliverance. As our high-minded pirate pursued his plundering way along the coast of South America, he met with a good many things which jarred upon his sensitive nature--things he had not expected when he started out on his new career. One of his disappointments was occasioned by the manners and customs of the English buccaneers under his command. These were very different from the Frenchmen of his company, for they made not the slightest pretence to piety. When they had captured a town or a village, the Englishmen would go to the churches, tear down the paintings, chop the ornaments from the altars with their cutlasses, and steal the silver crucifixes, the candlesticks, and even the communion services. Such conduct gave great pain to de Lussan. To rob and destroy the property of churches was in his eyes a great sin, and he never suffered anything of the kind if he could prevent it. When he found in any place which he captured a wealthy religious community or a richly furnished church, he scrupulously refrained from taking anything or of doing damage to property, and contented himself with demanding heavy indemnity, which the priests were obliged to pay as a return for the pious exemption which he granted them. But it was very difficult to control the Englishmen. They would rob and destroy a church as willingly as if it were the home of a peaceful family, and although their conscientious commander did everything he could to prevent their excesses, he did not always succeed. If he had known what was likely to happen, his party would have consisted entirely of Frenchmen. Another thing which disappointed and annoyed the gentlemanly de Lussan was the estimation in which the buccaneers were held by the ladies of the country through which he was passing. He soon found that the women in the Spanish settlements had the most horrible ideas regarding the members of the famous "Brotherhood of the Coast." To be sure, all the Spanish settlers, and a great part of the natives of the country, were filled with horror and dismay whenever they heard that a company of buccaneers was within a hundred miles of their homes, and it is not surprising that this was the case, for the stories of the atrocities and cruelties of these desperadoes had spread over the western world. But the women of the settlements looked upon the buccaneers with greater fear and abhorrence than the men could possibly feel, for the belief was almost universal among them that buccaneers were terrible monsters of cannibal habits who delighted in devouring human beings, especially if they happened to be young and tender. This ignorance of the true character of the invaders of the country was greatly deplored by de Lussan. He had a most profound pity for those simple-minded persons who had allowed themselves to be so deceived in regard to the real character of himself and his men, and whenever he had an opportunity, he endeavored to persuade the ladies who fell in his way that sooner than eat a woman he would entirely abstain from food. On one occasion, when politely conducting a young lady to a place of confinement, where in company with other women of good family she was to be shut up until their relatives could pay handsome ransoms for their release, he was very much surprised when she suddenly turned to him with tears in her eyes, and besought him not to devour her. This astonishing speech so wounded the feelings of the gallant Frenchman that for a moment he could not reply, and when he asked her what had put such an unreasonable fear in her mind, she could only answer that she thought he looked hungry, and that perhaps he would not be willing to wait until--And there she stopped, for she could not bring her mind to say--until she was properly prepared for the table. "What!" exclaimed the high-minded pirate. "Do you suppose that I would eat you in the street?" And as the poor girl, who was now crying, would make him no answer, he fell into a sombre silence which continued until they had reached their destination. The cruel aspersions which were cast upon his character by the women of the country were very galling to the chivalrous soul of this gentleman of France, and in every way possible he endeavored to show the Spanish ladies that their opinions of him were entirely incorrect, and even if his men were rather a hard lot of fellows, they were not cannibals. The high-minded pirate had now two principal objects before him. One was to lay his hand upon all the treasure he could find, and the other was to show the people of the country, especially the ladies, that he was a gentleman of agreeable manners and a pious turn of mind. It is highly probable that for some time the hero of this story did not succeed in his first object as well as he would have liked. A great deal of treasure was secured, but some of it consisted of property which could not be easily turned into cash or carried away, and he had with him a body of rapacious and conscienceless scoundrels who were continually clamoring for as large a share of the available spoils--such as jewels, money, and small articles of value--as they could induce their commander to allow them, and, in consequence of this greediness of his own men, his share of the plunder was not always as large as it ought to be. But in his other object he was very much more successful, and, in proof of this, we have only to relate an interesting and remarkable adventure which befell him. He laid siege to a large town, and, as the place was well defended by fortifications and armed men, a severe battle took place before it was captured. But at last the town was taken, and de Lussan and his men having gone to church to give thanks for their victory,--his Englishmen being obliged to attend the services no matter what they did afterward,--he went diligently to work to gather from the citizens their valuable and available possessions. In this way he was brought into personal contact with a great many of the people of the town, and among the acquaintances which he made was that of a young Spanish lady of great beauty. The conditions and circumstances in the midst of which this lady found herself after the city had been taken, were very peculiar. She had been the wife of one of the principal citizens, the treasurer of the town, who was possessed of a large fortune, and who lived in one of the best houses in the place; but during the battle with the buccaneers, her husband, who fought bravely in defence of the place, was killed, and she now found herself not only a widow, but a prisoner in the hands of those ruthless pirates whose very name had struck terror into the hearts of the Spanish settlers. Plunged into misery and despair, it was impossible for her to foresee what was going to happen to her. As has been said, the religious services in the church were immediately followed by the pillage of the town; every house was visited, and the trembling inhabitants were obliged to deliver up their treasures to the savage fellows who tramped through their halls and rooms, swearing savagely when they did not find as much as they expected, and laughing with wild glee at any unusual discovery of jewels or coin. The buccaneer officers as well as the men assisted in gathering in the spoils of the town, and it so happened that M. Raveneau de Lussan, with his good clothes and his jaunty hat with a feather in it, selected the house of the late treasurer of the city as a suitable place for him to make his investigations. He found there a great many valuable articles and also found the beautiful young widow. The effect produced upon the mind of the lady when the captain of the buccaneers entered her house was a very surprising one. Instead of beholding a savage, brutal ruffian, with ragged clothes and gleaming teeth, she saw a handsome gentleman, as well dressed as circumstances would permit, very polite in his manners, and with as great a desire to transact his business without giving her any more inconvenience than was necessary, as if he had been a tax-collector or had come to examine the gas meter. If all the buccaneers were such agreeable men as this one, she and her friends had been laboring under a great mistake. De Lussan did not complete his examination of the treasurer's house in one visit, and during the next two or three days the young widow not only became acquainted with the character of buccaneers in general, but she learned to know this particular buccaneer very well, and to find out what an entirely different man he was from the savage fellows who composed his company. She was grateful to him for his kind manner of appropriating her possessions, she was greatly interested in his society,--for he was a man of culture and information,--and in less than three days she found herself very much in love with him. There was not a man in the whole town who, in her opinion, could compare with this gallant commander of buccaneers. It was not very long before de Lussan became conscious of the favor he had found in the eyes of this lady; for as a buccaneer could not be expected to remain very long in one place, it was necessary, if this lady wished the captor of her money and treasure to know that he had also captured her heart, that she must not be slow in letting him know the state of her affections, and being a young person of a very practical mind she promptly informed de Lussan that she loved him and desired him to marry her. The gallant Frenchman was very much amazed when this proposition was made to him, which was in the highest degree complimentary. It was very attractive to him--but he could not understand it. The lady's husband had been dead but a few days--he had assisted in having the unfortunate gentleman properly buried--and it seemed to him very unnatural that the young widow should be in such an extraordinary hurry to prepare a marriage feast before the funeral baked meats had been cleared from the table. There was but one way in which he could explain to himself this remarkable transition from grief to a new affection. He believed that the people of this country were like their fruits and their flowers. The oranges might fall from the trees, but the blossoms would still be there. Husband and wives or lovers might die, but in the tropical hearts of these people it was not necessary that new affections should be formed, for they were already there, and needed only some one to receive them. As he did not undertake his present expedition for the purpose of marrying ladies, no matter how beautiful they might be, it is quite natural that de Lussan should not accept the proffered hand of the young widow. But when she came to detail her plans, he found that it would be well worth his while to carefully consider her project. The lady was by no means a thoughtless young creature, carried away by a sudden attachment. Before making known to de Lussan her preference for him above all other men, she had given the subject her most careful and earnest consideration, and had made plans which in her opinion would enable the buccaneer captain and herself to settle the matter to the satisfaction of all parties. When de Lussan heard the lady's scheme, he was as much surprised by her businesslike ability as he had been by the declaration of her affection for him. She knew very well that he could not marry her and take her with him. Moreover, she did not wish to go. She had no fancy for such wild expeditions and such savage companions. Her plans were for peace and comfort and a happy domestic life. In a word, she desired that the handsome de Lussan should remain with her. Of course the gentleman opened his eyes very wide when he heard this, but she had a great deal to say upon the subject, and she had not omitted any of the details which would be necessary for the success of her scheme. The lady knew just as well as the buccaneer captain knew that the men under his command would not allow him to remain comfortably in that town with his share of the plunder, while they went on without a leader to undergo all sorts of hardships and dangers, perhaps defeat and death. If he announced his intention of withdrawing from the band, his enraged companions would probably kill him. Consequently a friendly separation between himself and his buccaneer followers was a thing not to be thought of, and she did not even propose it. Her idea was a very different one. Just as soon as possible, that very night, de Lussan was to slip quietly out of the town, and make his way into the surrounding country. She would furnish him with a horse, and tell him the way he should take, and he was not to stop until he had reached a secluded spot, where she was quite sure the buccaneers would not be able to find him, no matter how diligently they might search. When they had entirely failed in every effort to discover their lost captain, who they would probably suppose had been killed by wandering Indians,--for it was impossible that he could have been murdered in the town without their knowledge,--they would give him up as lost and press on in search of further adventures. When the buccaneers were far away, and all danger from their return had entirely passed, then the brave and polite Frenchman, now no longer a buccaneer, could safely return to the town, where the young widow would be most happy to marry him, to lodge him in her handsome house, and to make over to him all the large fortune and estates which had been the property of her late husband. This was a very attractive offer surely, a beautiful woman, and a handsome fortune. But she offered more than this. She knew that a gentleman who had once captured and despoiled the town might feel a little delicacy in regard to marrying and settling there and becoming one of its citizens, and therefore she was prepared to remove any objections which might be occasioned by such considerate sentiments on his part. She assured him that if he would agree to her plan, she would use her influence with the authorities, and would obtain for him the position of city treasurer, which her husband had formerly held. And when he declared that such an astounding performance must be utterly impossible, she started out immediately, and having interviewed the Governor of the town and other municipal officers, secured their signature to a paper in which they promised that if M. de Lussan would accept the proposals which the lady had made, he would be received most kindly by the officers and citizens of the town; that the position of treasurer would be given to him, and that all the promises of the lady should be made good. Now our high-minded pirate was thrown into a great quandary, and although at first he had had no notion whatever of accepting the pleasant proposition which had been made to him by the young widow, he began to see that there were many good reasons why the affection, the high position, and the unusual advantages which she had offered to him might perhaps be the very best fortune which he could expect in this world. In the first place, if he should marry this charming young creature and settle down as a respected citizen and an officer of the town, he would be entirely freed from the necessity of leading the life of a buccaneer, and this life was becoming more and more repugnant to him every day,--not only on account of the highly disagreeable nature of his associates and their reckless deeds, but because the country was becoming aroused, and the resistance to his advances was growing stronger and stronger. In the next attack he made upon a town or village he might receive a musket ball in his body, which would end his career and leave his debts in France unpaid. More than that, he was disappointed, as has been said before, in regard to the financial successes he had expected. At that time he saw no immediate prospect of being able to go home with money enough in his pocket to pay off his creditors, and if he did not return to his native land under those conditions, he did not wish to return there at all. Under these circumstances it seemed to be wise and prudent, that if he had no reason to expect to be able to settle down honorably and peaceably in France, to accept this opportunity to settle honorably, peaceably, and in every way satisfactorily in America. It is easy to imagine the pitching and the tossing in the mind of our French buccaneer. The more he thought of the attractions of the fair widow and of the wealth and position which had been offered him, the more he hated all thoughts of his piratical crew, and of the dastardly and cruel character of the work in which they were engaged. If he could have trusted the officers and citizens of the town, there is not much doubt that he would have married the widow, but those officers and citizens were Spaniards, and he was a Frenchman. A week before the inhabitants of the place had been prosperous, contented, and happy. Now they had been robbed, insulted, and in many cases ruined, and he was commander of the body of desperadoes who had robbed and ruined them. Was it likely that they would forget the injuries which he had inflicted upon them simply because he had married a wealthy lady of the town and had kindly consented to accept the office of city treasurer? It was much more probable that when his men had really left that part of the country the citizens would forget all their promises to him and remember only his conduct toward them, and that even if he remained alive long enough to marry the lady and take the position offered him, it would not be long before she was again a widow and the office vacant. So de Lussan shut his eyes to the tempting prospects which were spread out before him, and preferring rather to be a live buccaneer than a dead city treasurer, he told the beautiful widow that he could not marry her and that he must go forth again into the hard, unsympathetic world to fight, to burn, to steal, and to be polite. Then, fearing that if he remained he might find his resolution weakened, he gathered together his men and his pillage, and sadly went away, leaving behind him a joyful town and a weeping widow. If the affection of the young Spanish lady for the buccaneer chief was sufficient to make her take an interest in his subsequent career, she would probably have been proud of him, for the ladies of those days had a high opinion of brave men and successful warriors. De Lussan soon proved that he was not only a good fighter, but that he was also an able general, and his operations on the western coast of South America were more like military campaigns than ordinary expeditions of lawless buccaneers. He attacked and captured the city of Panama, always an attractive prize to the buccaneer forces, and after that he marched down the western coast of South America, conquering and sacking many towns. As he now carried on his business in a somewhat wholesale way, it could not fail to bring him in a handsome profit, and in the course of time he felt that he was able to retire from the active practice of his profession and to return to France. But as he was going back into the circles of respectability, he wished to do so as a respectable man. He discarded his hat and plume, he threw away his great cutlass and his heavy pistols, and attired in the costume of a gentleman in society he prepared himself to enter again upon his old life. He made the acquaintance of some of the French colonial officers in the West Indies, and obtaining from them letters of introduction to the Treasurer-General of France, he went home as a gentleman who had acquired a fortune by successful enterprises in the new world. The pirate who not only possesses a sense of propriety and a sensitive mind, but is also gifted with an ability to write a book in which he describes his own actions and adventures, is to be credited with unusual advantages, and as Raveneau de Lussan possessed these advantages, he has come down to posterity as a high-minded pirate. Chapter XXI Exit Buccaneer; Enter Pirate The buccaneers of the West Indies and South America had grown to be a most formidable body of reckless freebooters. From merely capturing Spanish ships, laden with the treasures taken from the natives of the new world, they had grown strong enough to attack Spanish towns and cities. But when they became soldiers and marched in little armies, the patience of the civilized world began to weaken: Panama, for instance, was an important Spanish city; England was at peace with Spain; therefore, when a military force composed mainly of Englishmen, and led by a British subject, captured and sacked the said Spanish city, England was placed in an awkward position; if she did not interfere with her buccaneers, she would have a quarrel to settle with Spain. Therefore it was that a new Governor was sent to Jamaica with strict orders to use every power he possessed to put down the buccaneers and to break up their organization, and it was to this end that he set a thief to catch thieves and empowered the ex-pirate, Morgan, to execute his former comrades. But methods of conciliation, as well as threats of punishment, were used to induce the buccaneers to give up their illegal calling, and liberal offers were made to them to settle in Jamaica and become law-abiding citizens. They were promised grants of land and assistance of various kinds in order to induce them to take up the legitimate callings of planters and traders. But these offers were not at all tempting to the Brethren of the Coast; from pirates _rampant_ to pirates _couchant_ was too great a change, and some of them, who found it impossible to embark on piratical cruises, on account of the increasing difficulties of fitting out vessels, returned to their original avocations of cattle-butchering and beef-drying, and some, it is said, chose rather to live among the wild Indians and share their independent lives, than to bind themselves to any form of honest industry. The French had also been very active in suppressing the operations of their buccaneers, and now the Brethren of the Coast, considered as an organization for preying upon the commerce and settlers of Spain, might be said to have ceased to exist. But it must not be supposed that because buccaneering had died out, that piracy was dead. If we tear down a wasps' nest, we destroy the abode of a fierce and pitiless community, but we scatter the wasps, and it is likely that each one of them, in the unrestricted and irresponsible career to which he has been unwillingly forced, will prove a much more angry and dangerous insect than he had ever been before. This is what happened to these buccaneers who would not give up a piratical life; driven away from Jamaica, from San Domingo, and even from Tortuga, they retained a resting-place only at New Providence, an island in the Bahamas, and this they did not maintain very long. Then they spread themselves all over the watery world. They were no longer buccaneers, they were no longer brothers of any sort or kind, they no longer set out merely to pillage and fight the Spaniards, but their attacks were made upon people of every nation. English ships and French ships, once safe from them, were a welcome prey to these new pirates, unrestrained by any kind of loyalty, even by any kind of enmity. They were more rapacious, they were more cruel, they were more like fiends than they had ever been before. They were cowardly and they no longer proceeded against towns which might be defended, nor ran up alongside of a man-of-war to boldly board her in the very teeth of her guns. They confined themselves to attacks upon peaceable merchant vessels, often robbing them and then scuttling them, delighted with the spectacle of a ship, with all its crew, sinking hopelessly into the sea. The scene of piratical operations in America was now very much changed. The successors of the Brothers of the Coast, no longer united by any bonds of fellowship, but each pirate captain acting independently in his own wicked way, was coming up from the West Indies to afflict the seacoast of our country. The old buccaneers knew all about our southern coast, for they were among the very first white men who ever set foot on the shores of North and South Carolina before that region had been settled by colonists, and when the only inhabitants were the wild Indians. These early buccaneers often used its bays and harbors as convenient ports of refuge, where they could anchor, divide spoils, take in fresh water, and stay as long as they pleased without fear of molestation. It was natural enough that when the Spanish-hating buccaneer merged into the independent pirate, who respected no flag, and preyed upon ships of every nation, he should feel very much at home on the Carolina coasts. As the country was settled, and Charles Town, now Charleston, grew to be a port of considerable importance, the pirates felt as much at home in this region as when it was inhabited merely by Indians. They frequently touched at little seaside settlements, and boldly sailed into the harbor of Charles Town. But, unlike the unfortunate citizens of Porto Bello or Maracaibo, the American colonists were not frightened when they saw a pirate ship anchored in their harbors, for they knew its crew did not come as enemies, but as friendly traders. The early English colonists were not as prosperous as they might have been if the mother country had not been so anxious to make money out of them. They were not allowed to import goods from any country but England, and if they had products or crops to export, they must be sold to English merchants. For whatever they bought they had to pay the highest prices, and they could not send into the markets of the world to get the best value for their own productions. Therefore it was that a pirate ship was a very welcome visitor in Charles Town harbor. She was generally loaded with goods, which, as they were stolen, her captain could afford to sell very cheaply indeed, and as there was always plenty of Spanish gold on board, her crew was not apt to haggle very much in regard to the price of the spirits, the groceries, or the provisions which they bought from the merchants of the town. This friendly commerce between the pirates and the Carolinians grew to be so extensive that at one time the larger part of the coin in circulation in those colonies consisted of Spanish gold pieces, which had been brought in and used by the pirates for the purchase of goods. But a pirate is very seldom a person of discretion, who knows when to leave well enough alone, and so, instead of contenting themselves with robbing and capturing the vessels belonging to people whom their Charles Town friends and customers would look upon as foreigners, they boldly sailed up and down the coast, seeking for floating booty wherever they might find it, and when a pirate vessel commanded by an English captain and manned principally by an English crew, fell in with a big merchantman flying the English flag, they bore down upon that vessel, just as if it had been French, or Spanish, or Dutch, and if the crew were impertinent enough to offer any resistance, they were cut down and thrown overboard. At last the pirates became so swaggeringly bold and their captains so enterprising in their illegal trading that the English government took vigorous measures, not only to break up piracy, but to punish all colonists who should encourage the freebooters by commercial dealings with them. At these laws the pirates laughed, and the colonists winced, and there were many people in Charles Town who vowed that if the King wanted them to help him put down piracy, he must show them some other way of getting imported goods at reasonable prices. So the pirates went on capturing merchantmen whenever they had a chance, and the Carolinians continued to look forward with interest to the bargain days which always followed the arrival of a pirate ship. But this state of things did not last, and the time came when the people of Charles Town experienced a change of mind. The planters were now growing large quantities of rice, and this crop became so valuable that the prosperity of the colonies greatly increased. And now the pirates also became very much interested in the rice crops, and when they had captured four or five vessels sailing out of Charles Town heavily laden with rice, the people of that town suddenly became aware of the true character of a pirate. He was now in their eyes an unmitigated scoundrel who not only stole goods from all nations, which he brought to them and sold at low prices, but he actually stole their goods, their precious rice which they were sending to England. The indignant citizens of Charles Town took a bold stand, and such a bold one it was that when part of a crew of pirates, who had been put ashore by their comrades on account of a quarrel, made their way to the town, thinking they could tell a tale of shipwreck and rely upon the friendship of their old customers, they were taken into custody, and seven out of the nine were hanged. The occasional repetition of such acts as this, and the exhibition of dangling pirates, hung up like scarecrows at the entrance of the harbors, dampened the ardor of the freebooters a good deal, and for some years they kept away from the harbor of Charles Town, which had once been to them such a friendly port. Chapter XXII The Great Blackbeard comes upon the Stage So long as the people of the Carolinas were prosperous and able to capture and execute pirates who interfered with their trade the Atlantic sea-robbers kept away from their ports, but this prosperity did not last. Indian wars broke out, and in the course of time the colonies became very much weakened and impoverished, and then it was that the harbor of Charles Town began to be again interesting to the pirates. About this time one of the most famous of sea-robbers was harassing the Atlantic coast of North America, and from New England to the West Indies, he was known as the great pirate Blackbeard. This man, whose real name was Thatch, was a most terrible fellow in appearance as well as action. He wore a long, heavy, black beard, which it was his fancy to separate into tails, each one tied with a colored ribbon, and often tucked behind his ears. Some of the writers of that day declared that the sight of this beard would create more terror in any port of the American seaboard than would the sudden appearance of a fiery comet. Across his brawny breast he carried a sort of a sling in which hung not less than three pairs of pistols in leathern holsters, and these, in addition to his cutlass and a knife or two in his belt, made him a most formidable-looking fellow. Some of the fanciful recreations of Blackbeard show him to have been a person of consistent purpose. Even in his hours of rest when he was not fighting or robbing, his savage soul demanded some interesting excitement. Once he was seated at table with his mate and two or three sailors, and when the meal was over he took up a pair of pistols, and cocking them put them under the table. This peculiar action caused one of the sailors to remember very suddenly that he had something to do on deck, and he immediately disappeared. But the others looked at their captain in astonishment, wondering what he would do next. They soon found out; for crossing the pistols, still under the table, he fired them. One ball hit the mate in the leg, but the other struck no one. When asked what he meant by this strange action, he replied that if he did not shoot one of his men now and then they would forget what sort of a person he was. At another time he invented a game; he gathered his officers and crew together and told them that they were going to play that they were living in the lower regions. Thereupon the whole party followed him down into the hold. The hatches and all the other openings were closed, and then Blackbeard began to illuminate the scene with fire and brimstone. The sulphur burned, the fumes rose, a ghastly light spread over the countenances of the desperadoes, and very soon some of them began to gasp and cough and implore the captain to let in some fresh air, but Blackbeard was bound to have a good game, and he proceeded to burn more brimstone. He laughed at the gasping fellows about him and declared that he would be just as willing to breathe the fumes of sulphur as common air. When at last he threw open the hatches, some of the men were almost dead, but their stalwart captain had not even sneezed. In the early part of the eighteenth century Blackbeard made his headquarters in one of the inlets on the North Carolina coast, and there he ruled as absolute king, for the settlers in the vicinity seemed to be as anxious to oblige him as the captains of the merchantmen sailing along the coast were anxious to keep out of his way. On one of his voyages Blackbeard went down the coast as far as Honduras, where he took a good many prizes, and as some of the crews of the captured vessels enlisted under him he sailed north with a stronger force than ever before, having a large ship of forty guns, three smaller vessels, and four hundred men. With this little fleet Blackbeard made for the coast of South Carolina, and anchored outside the harbor of Charles Town. He well understood the present condition of the place and was not in the least afraid that the citizens would hang him up on the shores of the bay. Blackbeard began work without delay. Several well-laden ships--the Carolinians having no idea that pirates were waiting for them--came sailing out to sea and were immediately captured. One of these was a very important vessel, for it not only carried a valuable cargo, but a number of passengers, many of them people of note, who were on their way to England. One of these was a Mr. Wragg, who was a member of the Council of the Province. It might have been supposed that when Blackbeard took possession of this ship, he would have been satisfied with the cargo and the money which he found on board, and having no use for prominent citizens, would have let them go their way; but he was a trader as well as a plunderer, and he therefore determined that the best thing to do in this case was to put an assorted lot of highly respectable passengers upon the market and see what he could get for them. He was not at the time in need of money or provisions, but his men were very much in want of medicines, so he decided to trade off his prisoners for pills, potions, plasters, and all sorts of apothecary's supplies. He put three of his pirates in a boat, and with them one of the passengers, a Mr. Marks, who was commissioned as Blackbeard's special agent, with orders to inform the Governor that if he did not immediately send the medicines required, amounting in value to about three hundred pounds, and if he did not allow the pirate crew of the boat to return in safety, every one of the prisoners would be hanged from the yard-arm of his ship. The boat rowed away to the distant town, and Blackbeard waited two days for its return, and then he grew very angry, for he believed that his messengers had been taken into custody, and he came very near hanging Mr. Wragg and all his companions. But before he began to satisfy his vengeance, news came from the boat. It had been upset in the bay, and had had great trouble in getting to Charles Town, but it had arrived there at last. Blackbeard now waited a day or two longer; but as no news came from Mr. Marks, he vowed he would not be trifled with by the impudent people of Charles Town, and swore that every man, woman, and child among the prisoners should immediately prepare to be hanged. Of course the unfortunate prisoners in the pirate ship were in a terrible state of mind during the absence of Mr. Marks. They knew very well that they could expect no mercy from Blackbeard if the errand should be unsuccessful, and they also knew that the Charles Town people would not be likely to submit to such an outrageous demand upon them; so they trembled and quaked by day and by night, and when at last they were told to get ready to be hanged, every particle of courage left them, and they proposed to Blackbeard that if he would spare their lives, and that if it should turn out that their fellow-citizens had decided to sacrifice them for the sake of a few paltry drugs, they would take up the cause of the pirates; they would show Blackbeard the best way to sail into the harbor, and they would join with him and his men in attacking the city and punishing the inhabitants for their hard-hearted treatment of their unfortunate fellow-citizens. This proposition pleased Blackbeard immensely; it would have been like a new game to take Mr. Wragg to the town and make him fight his fellow-members of the Council of the Province, and so he rescinded his order for a general execution, and bade his prisoners prepare to join with his pirates when he should give the word for an assault upon their city. In the meantime there was a terrible stir in Charles Town. When the Governor and citizens received the insolent and brutal message of Blackbeard they were filled with rage as well as consternation, and if there had been any way of going out to sea to rescue their unhappy fellow-citizens, every able-bodied man in the town would have enlisted in the expedition. But they had no vessels of war, and they were not even in a position to arm any of the merchantmen in the harbor. It seemed to the Governor and his council that there was nothing for them to do but to submit to the demands of Blackbeard, for they very well knew that he was a scoundrel who would keep his word, and also that whatever they did must be done quickly, for there were the three swaggering pirates in the town, strutting about the streets as if they owned the place. If this continued much longer, it would be impossible to keep the infuriated citizens from falling upon these blustering rascals and bringing their impertinence to a summary end. If this should happen, it would be a terrible thing, for not only would Mr. Wragg and his companions be put to death, but the pirates would undoubtedly attack the town, which was in a very poor position for defence. Consequently the drugs were collected with all possible haste, and Mr. Marks and the pirates were sent with them to Blackbeard. We do not know whether or not that bedizened cutthroat was satisfied with the way things turned out; for having had the idea of going to Charles Town and obliging the prisoners to help him confiscate the drugs and chemicals, he may have preferred this unusual proceeding to a more commonplace transaction; but as the medicine had arrived he accepted it, and having secured all possible booty and money from the ships he had captured, and had stripped his prisoners of the greater part of their clothing, he set them on shore to walk to Charles Town as well as they could. They had a miserably difficult time, making their way through the woods and marshes, for there were women and children among them who were scarcely equal to the journey. One of the children was a little boy, the son of Mr. Wragg, who afterward became a very prominent man in the colonies. He rose to such a high position, not only among his countrymen, but in the opinion of the English government, that when he died, about the beginning of the Revolution, a tablet to his memory was placed in Westminster Abbey, which is, perhaps, the first instance of such an honor being paid to an American. Having now provided himself with medicines enough to keep his wild crew in good physical condition, no matter how much they might feast and frolic on the booty they had obtained from Charles Town, Blackbeard sailed back to his North Carolina haunts and took a long vacation, during which time he managed to put himself on very good terms with the Governor and officials of the country. He had plenty of money and was willing to spend it, and so he was allowed to do pretty much as he pleased, provided he kept his purse open and did not steal from his neighbors. But Blackbeard became tired of playing the part of a make-believe respectable citizen, and having spent the greater part of his money, he wanted to make some more. Consequently he fitted out a small vessel, and declaring that he was going on a legitimate commercial cruise, he took out regular papers for a port in the West Indies and sailed away, as if he had been a mild-mannered New England mariner going to catch codfish. The officials of the town of Bath, from which he sailed, came down to the ship and shook hands with him and hoped he would have good success. After a moderate absence he returned to Bath, bringing with him a large French merchant vessel, with no people on board, but loaded with a valuable cargo of sugar and other goods. This vessel he declared he had found deserted at sea, and he therefore claimed it as a legitimate prize. Knowing the character of this bloody pirate, and knowing how very improbable it was that the captain and all the crew of a valuable merchant vessel, with nothing whatever the matter with her, would go out into their boats and row away, leaving their ship to become the property of any one who might happen along, it may seem surprising that the officials of Bath appeared to have no doubt of the truth of Blackbeard's story, and allowed him freely to land the cargo on the French ship and store it away as his own property. But people who consort with pirates cannot be expected to have very lively consciences, and although there must have been persons in the town with intelligence enough to understand the story of pitiless murder told by that empty vessel, whose very decks and masts must have been regarded as silent witnesses that her captain and crew did not leave her of their own free will, no one in the town interfered with the thrifty Blackbeard or caused any public suspicion to fall upon the propriety of his actions. Chapter XXIII A True-Hearted Sailor draws his Sword Feeling now quite sure that he could do what he pleased on shore as well as at sea, Blackbeard swore more, swaggered more, and whenever he felt like it, sailed up and down the coast and took a prize or two to keep the pot boiling for himself and his men. On one of these expeditions he went to Philadelphia, and having landed, he walked about to see what sort of a place it was, but the Governor of the state, hearing of his arrival, quickly arranged to let him know that the Quaker city allowed no black-hearted pirate, with a ribbon-bedecked beard, to promenade on Chestnut and Market streets, and promptly issued a warrant for the sea-robber's arrest. But Blackbeard was too sharp and too old a criminal to be caught in that way, and he left the city with great despatch. The people along the coast of North Carolina became very tired of Blackbeard and his men. All sorts of depredations were committed on vessels, large and small, and whenever a ship was boarded and robbed or whenever a fishing-vessel was laid under contribution, Blackbeard was known to be at the bottom of the business, whether he personally appeared or not. To have this busy pirate for a neighbor was extremely unpleasant, and the North Carolina settlers greatly longed to get rid of him. It was of no use for them to ask their own State Government to suppress this outrageous scoundrel, and although their good neighbor, South Carolina, might have been willing to help them, she was too poor at that time and had enough to do to take care of herself. Not knowing, or not caring for the strong feeling of the settlers against him, Blackbeard continued in his wicked ways, and among other crimes he captured a small vessel and treated the crew in such a cruel and atrocious manner that the better class of North Carolinians vowed they would stand him no longer, and they therefore applied to Governor Spotswood, of Virginia, and asked his aid in putting down the pirates. The Virginians were very willing to do what they could for their unfortunate neighbors. The legislature offered a reward for the capture of Blackbeard or any of his men; but the Governor, feeling that this was not enough, determined to do something on his own responsibility, for he knew very well that the time might come when the pirate vessels would begin to haunt Virginia waters. There happened to be at that time two small British men-of-war in Hampton Roads, and although the Governor had no authority to send these after the pirates, he fitted out two sloops at his own expense and manned them with the best fighting men from the war-vessels. One of the sloops he put under Captain Brand, and the other under Captain Maynard, both brave and experienced naval officers. All preparations were made with the greatest secrecy--for if Blackbeard had heard of what was going on, he would probably have decamped--and then the two sloops went out to sea with a commission from the Governor to capture Blackbeard, dead or alive. This was a pretty heavy contract, but Brand and Maynard were courageous men and did not hesitate to take it. The Virginians had been informed that the pirate captain and his men were on a vessel in Ocracoke Inlet, and when they arrived they found, to their delight, that Blackbeard was there. When the pirates saw the two armed vessels sailing into the inlet, they knew very well that they were about to be attacked, and it did not take them long to get ready for a fight, nor did they wait to see what their enemy was about to do. As soon as the sloops were near enough, Blackbeard, without waiting for any preliminary exercises, such as a demand for surrender or any nonsense of that sort, let drive at the intruders with eight heavily loaded cannon. Now the curtain had been rung up, and the play began, and a very lively play it was. The guns of the Virginians blazed away at the pirate ship, and they would have sent out boats to board her had not Blackbeard forestalled them. Boarding was always a favorite method of fighting with the pirates. They did not often carry heavy cannon, and even when they did, they had but little fancy for battles at long distances. What they liked was to meet foes face to face and cut them down on their own decks. In such combats they felt at home, and were almost always successful, for there were few mariners or sailors, even in the British navy, who could stand against these brawny, glaring-eyed dare-devils, who sprang over the sides of a vessel like panthers, and fought like bulldogs. Blackbeard had had enough cannonading, and he did not wait to be boarded. Springing into a boat with about twenty of his men, he rowed to the vessel commanded by Maynard, and in a few minutes he and his pirates surged on board her. Now there followed on the decks of that sloop one of the most fearful hand-to-hand combats known to naval history. Pirates had often attacked vessels where they met with strong resistance, but never had a gang of sea-robbers fallen in with such bold and skilled antagonists as those who now confronted Blackbeard and his crew. At it they went,--cut, fire, slash, bang, howl, and shout. Steel clashed, pistols blazed, smoke went up, and blood ran down, and it was hard in the confusion for a man to tell friend from foe. Blackbeard was everywhere, bounding from side to side, as he swung his cutlass high and low, and though many a shot was fired at him, and many a rush made in his direction, every now and then a sailor went down beneath his whirling blade. But the great pirate had not boarded that ship to fight with common men. He was looking for Maynard, the commander. Soon he met him, and for the first time in his life he found his match. Maynard was a practised swordsman, and no matter how hard and how swiftly came down the cutlass of the pirate, his strokes were always evaded, and the sword of the Virginian played more dangerously near him. At last Blackbeard, finding that he could not cut down his enemy, suddenly drew a pistol, and was about to empty its barrels into the very face of his opponent, when Maynard sent his sword-blade into the throat of the furious pirate; the great Blackbeard went down upon his back on the deck, and in the next moment Maynard put an end to his nefarious career. Their leader dead, the few pirates who were left alive gave up the fight, and sprang overboard, hoping to be able to swim ashore, and the victory of the Virginians was complete. The strength, toughness, and extraordinary vitality of these feline human beings, who were known as pirates, has often occasioned astonishment in ordinary people. Their sun-tanned and hairy bodies seemed to be made of something like wire, leather, and India rubber, upon which the most tremendous exertions, and even the infliction of severe wounds, made but little impression. Before Blackbeard fell, he received from Maynard and others no less than twenty-five wounds, and yet he fought fearlessly to the last, and when the panting officer sheathed his sword, he felt that he had performed a most signal deed of valor. When they had broken up the pirate nest in Ocracoke Inlet, the two sloops sailed to Bath, where they compelled some of the unscrupulous town officials to surrender the cargo which had been stolen from the French vessel and stored in the town by Blackbeard; then they sailed proudly back to Hampton Roads, with the head of the dreaded Blackbeard dangling from the end of the bowsprit of the vessel he had boarded, and on whose deck he had discovered the fact, before unknown to him, that a well-trained, honest man can fight as well as the most reckless cutthroat who ever decked his beard with ribbons, and swore enmity to all things good. Chapter XXIV A Greenhorn under the Black Flag Early in the eighteenth century there lived at Bridgetown, in the island of Barbadoes, a very pleasant, middle-aged gentleman named Major Stede Bonnet. He was a man in comfortable circumstances, and had been an officer in the British army. He had retired from military service, and had bought an estate at Bridgetown, where he lived in comfort and was respected by his neighbors. But for some reason or other this quiet and reputable gentleman got it into his head that he would like to be a pirate. There were some persons who said that this strange fancy was due to the fact that his wife did not make his home pleasant for him, but it is quite certain that if a man wants an excuse for robbing and murdering his fellow-beings he ought to have a much better one than the bad temper of his wife. But besides the general reasons why Major Bonnet should not become a pirate, and which applied to all men as well as himself, there was a special reason against his adoption of the profession of a sea-robber, for he was an out-and-out landsman and knew nothing whatever of nautical matters. He had been at sea but very little, and if he had heard a boatswain order his man to furl the keel, to batten down the shrouds, or to hoist the forechains to the topmast yard, he would have seen nothing out of the way in these commands. He was very fond of history, and very well read in the literature of the day. He was accustomed to the habits of good society, and knew a great deal about farming and horses, cows and poultry, but if he had been compelled to steer a vessel, he would not have known how to keep her bow ahead of her stern. But notwithstanding this absolute incapacity for such a life, and the absence of any of the ordinary motives for abandoning respectability and entering upon a career of crime, Major Bonnet was determined to become a pirate, and he became one. He had money enough to buy a ship and to fit her out and man her, and this he quietly did at Bridgetown, nobody supposing that he was going to do anything more than start off on some commercial cruise. When everything was ready, his vessel slipped out of the harbor one night, and after he was sailing safely on the rolling sea he stood upon the quarter-deck and proclaimed himself a pirate. It might not be supposed that this was necessary, for the seventy men on board his ship were all desperate cutthroats, of various nationalities, whom he had found in the little port, and who knew very well what was expected of them when they reached the sea. But if Stede Bonnet had not proclaimed himself a pirate, it is possible that he might not have believed, himself, that he was one, and so he ran up the black flag, with its skeleton or skull and cross-bones, he girded on a great cutlass, and, folding his arms, he ordered his mate to steer the vessel to the coast of Virginia. Although Bonnet knew so little about ships and the sea, and had had no experience in piracy, his men were practised seamen, and those of them who had not been pirates before were quite ready and very well fitted to become such; so when this green hand came into the waters of Virginia he actually took two or three vessels and robbed them of their cargoes, burning the ships, and sending the crews on shore. This had grown to be a common custom among the pirates, who, though cruel and hard-hearted, had not the inducements of the old buccaneers to torture and murder the crews of the vessels which they captured. They could not hate human beings in general as the buccaneers hated the Spaniards, and so they were a little more humane to their prisoners, setting them ashore on some island or desert coast, and letting them shift for themselves as best they might. This was called marooning, and was somewhat less heartless than the old methods of getting rid of undesirable prisoners by drowning or beheading them. As Bonnet had always been rather conventional in his ideas and had respected the customs of the society in which he found himself, he now adopted all the piratical fashions of the day, and when he found himself too far from land to put the captured crew on shore, he did not hesitate to make them "walk the plank," which was a favorite device of the pirates whenever they had no other way of disposing of their prisoners. The unfortunate wretches, with their hands tied behind them, were compelled, one by one, to mount a plank which was projected over the side of the vessel and balanced like a see-saw, and when, prodded by knives and cutlasses, they stepped out upon this plank, of course it tipped up, and down they went into the sea. In this way, men, women, and children slipped out of sight among the waves as the vessel sailed merrily on. In one branch of his new profession Bonnet rapidly became proficient. He was an insatiable robber and a cruel conqueror. He captured merchant vessels all along the coast as high up as New England, and then he came down again and stopped for a while before Charles Town harbor, where he took a couple of prizes, and then put into one of the North Carolina harbors, where it was always easy for a pirate vessel to refit and get ready for further adventures. Bonnet's vessel was named the _Revenge_, which was about as ill suited to the vessel as her commander was ill fitted to sail her, for Bonnet had nobody to revenge himself upon unless, indeed, it were his scolding wife. But a good many pirate ships were then called the _Revenge_, and Bonnet was bound to follow the fashion, whatever it might be. Very soon after he had stood upon the quarter-deck and proclaimed himself a pirate his men had discovered that he knew no more about sailing than he knew about painting portraits, and although there were under-officers who directed all the nautical operations, the mass of the crew conceived a great contempt for a landsman captain. There was much grumbling and growling, and many of the men would have been glad to throw Bonnet overboard and take the ship into their own hands. But when any symptoms of mutiny showed themselves, the pirates found that although they did not have a sailor in command over them, they had a very determined and relentless master. Bonnet knew that the captain of a pirate ship ought to be the most severe and rigid man on board, and so, at the slightest sign of insubordination, his grumbling men were put in chains or flogged, and it was Bonnet's habit at such times to strut about the deck with loaded pistols, threatening to blow out the brains of any man who dared to disobey him. Recognizing that although their captain was no sailor he was a first-class tyrant, the rebellious crew kept their grumbling to themselves and worked his ship. Bonnet now pointed the bow of the _Revenge_ southward--that is, he requested somebody else to see that it was done--and sailed to the Bay of Honduras, which was a favorite resort of the pirates about that time. And here it was that he first met with the famous Captain Blackbeard. There can be no doubt that our amateur pirate was very glad indeed to become acquainted with this well-known professional, and they soon became good friends. Blackbeard was on the point of organizing an expedition, and he proposed that Bonnet and his vessel should join it. This invitation was gladly accepted, and the two pirate captains started out on a cruise together. Now the old reprobate, Blackbeard, knew everything about ships and was a good navigator, and it was not long before he discovered that his new partner was as green as grass in regard to all nautical affairs. Consequently, after having thought the matter over for a time, he made up his mind that Bonnet was not at all fit to command such a fine vessel as the one he owned and had fitted out, and as pirates make their own laws, and perhaps do not obey them if they happen not to feel like it, Blackbeard sent for Bonnet to come on board his ship, and then, in a manner as cold-blooded as if he had been about to cut down a helpless prisoner, Blackbeard told Bonnet that he was not fit to be a pirate captain, that he intended to keep him on board his own vessel, and that he would send somebody to take charge of the _Revenge_. This was a fall indeed, and Bonnet was almost stunned by it. An hour before he had been proudly strutting about on the deck of a vessel which belonged to him, and in which he had captured many valuable prizes, and now he was told he was to stay on Blackbeard's ship and make himself useful in keeping the log book, or in doing any other easy thing which he might happen to understand. The green pirate ground his teeth and swore bitterly inside of himself, but he said nothing openly; on Blackbeard's ship Blackbeard's decisions were not to be questioned. Chapter XXV Bonnet again to the Front It must not be supposed that the late commander of the _Revenge_ continued to be satisfied, as he sat in the cabin of Blackbeard's vessel and made the entries of the day's sailing and various performances. He obeyed the orders of his usurping partner because he was obliged to do so, but he did not hate Blackbeard any the less because he had to keep quiet about it. He accompanied his pirate chief on various cruises, among which was the famous expedition to the harbor of Charles Town where Blackbeard traded Mr. Wragg and his companions for medicines. Having a very fine fleet under him, Blackbeard did a very successful business for some time, but feeling that he had earned enough for the present, and that it was time for him to take one of his vacations, he put into an inlet in North Carolina, where he disbanded his crew. So long as he was on shore spending his money and having a good time, he did not want to have a lot of men about him who would look to him to support them when they had spent their portion of the spoils. Having no further use for Bonnet, he dismissed him also, and did not object to his resuming possession of his own vessel. If the green pirate chose to go to sea again and perhaps drown himself and his crew, it was a matter of no concern to Blackbeard. But this was a matter of very great concern to Stede Bonnet, and he proceeded to prove that there were certain branches of the piratical business in which he was an adept, and second to none of his fellow-practitioners. He wished to go pirating again, and saw a way of doing this which he thought would be far superior to any of the common methods. It was about this time that King George of England, very desirous of breaking up piracy, issued a proclamation in which he promised pardon to any pirate who would appear before the proper authorities, renounce his evil practices, and take an oath of allegiance. It also happened that very soon after this proclamation had been issued, England went to war with Spain. Being a man who kept himself posted in the news of the world, so far as it was possible, Bonnet saw in the present state of affairs a very good chance for him to play the part of a wolf in sheep's clothing, and he proceeded to begin his new piratical career by renouncing piracy. So leaving the _Revenge_ in the inlet, he journeyed overland to Bath; there he signed pledges, took oaths, and did everything that was necessary to change himself from a pirate captain to a respectable commander of a duly authorized British privateer. Returning to his vessel with all the papers in his pocket necessary to prove that he was a loyal and law-abiding subject of Great Britain, he took out regular clearance papers for St. Thomas, which was a British naval station, and where he declared he was going in order to obtain a commission as a privateer. Now the wily Bonnet had everything he wanted except a crew. Of course it would not do for him, in his present respectable capacity, to go about enlisting unemployed pirates, but at this point fortune again favored him; he knew of a desert island not very far away where Blackbeard, at the end of his last cruise, had marooned a large party of his men. This heartless pirate had not wanted to take all of his followers into port, because they might prove troublesome and expensive to him, and so he had put a number of them on this island, to live or die as the case might be. Bonnet went over to this island, and finding the greater part of these men still surviving, he offered to take them to St. Thomas in his vessel if they would agree to work the ship to port. This proposition was of course joyfully accepted, and very soon the _Revenge_ was manned with a complete crew of competent desperadoes. All these operations took a good deal of time, and, at last, when everything was ready for Bonnet to start out on his piratical cruise, he received information which caused him to change his mind, and to set forth on an errand of a very different kind. He had supposed that Blackbeard, whom he had never forgiven for the shameful and treacherous manner in which he had treated him, was still on shore enjoying himself, but he was told by the captain of a small trading vessel that the old pirate was preparing for another cruise, and that he was then in Ocracoke Inlet. Now Bonnet folded his arms and stamped his feet upon the quarter-deck. The time had come for him to show that the name of his vessel meant something. Never before had he had an opportunity for revenging himself on anybody, but now that hour had arrived. He would revenge himself upon Blackbeard! The implacable Bonnet sailed out to sea in a truly warlike frame of mind. He was not going forth to prey upon unresisting merchantmen; he was on his way to punish a black-hearted pirate, a faithless scoundrel, who had not only acted knavishly toward the world in general, but had behaved most disloyally and disrespectfully toward a fellow pirate chief. If he could once run the _Revenge_ alongside the ship of the perfidious Blackbeard, he would show him what a green hand could do. When Bonnet reached Ocracoke Inlet, he was deeply disappointed to find that Blackbeard had left that harbor, but he did not give up the pursuit. He made hot chase after the vessel of his pirate enemy, keeping a sharp lookout in hopes of discovering some signs of him. If the enraged Bonnet could have met the ferocious Blackbeard face to face, there might have been a combat which would have relieved the world of two atrocious villains, and Captain Maynard would have been deprived of the honor of having slain the most famous pirate of the day. Bonnet was a good soldier and a brave man, and although he could not sail a ship, he understood the use of the sword even better, perhaps, than Blackbeard, and there is good reason to believe that if the two ships had come together, their respective crews would have allowed their captains to fight out their private quarrel without interference, for pirates delight in a bloody spectacle, and this would have been to them a rare diversion of the kind. But Bonnet never overtook Blackbeard, and the great combat between the rival pirates did not take place. After vainly searching for a considerable time for a trace or sight of Blackbeard, the baffled Bonnet gave up the pursuit and turned his mind to other objects. The first thing he did was to change the name of his vessel; if he could not be revenged, he would not sail in the _Revenge_. Casting about in his mind for a good name, he decided to call her the _Royal James_. Having no intention of respecting his oaths or of keeping his promises, he thought that, as he was going to be disloyal, he might as well be as disloyal as he could, and so he gave his ship the name assumed by the son of James the Second, who was a pretender to the throne, and was then in France plotting against the English government. The next thing he did was to change his own name, for he thought this would make matters better for him if he should be captured after entering upon his new criminal career. So he called himself Captain Thomas, by which name he was afterwards known. When these preliminaries had been arranged, he gathered his crew together and announced that instead of going to St. Thomas to get a commission as a privateer, he had determined to keep on in his old manner of life, and that he wished them to understand that not only was he a pirate captain, but that they were a pirate crew. Many of the men were very much surprised at this announcement, for they had thought it a very natural thing for the green-hand Bonnet to give up pirating after he had been so thoroughly snubbed by Blackbeard, and they had not supposed that he would ever think again of sailing under a black flag. However, the crew's opinion of the green-hand captain had been a good deal changed. In his various cruises he had learned a good deal about navigation, and could now give very fair orders, and his furious pursuit of Blackbeard had also given him a reputation for reckless bravery which he had not enjoyed before. A man who was chafing and fuming for a chance of a hand-to-hand conflict with the greatest pirate of the day must be a pretty good sort of a fellow from their point of view. Moreover, their strutting and stalking captain, so recently balked of his dark revenge, was a very savage-looking man, and it would not be pleasant either to try to persuade him to give up his piratical intention, or to decline to join him in carrying it out; so the whole of the crew, minor officers and men, changed their minds about going to St. Thomas, and agreed to hoist the skull and cross-bones, and to follow Captain Bonnet wherever he might lead. Bonnet now cruised about in grand style and took some prizes on the Virginia coast, and then went up into Delaware Bay, where he captured such ships as he wanted, and acted generally in the most domineering and insolent fashion. Once, when he stopped near the town of Lewes, in order to send some prisoners ashore, he sent a message to the officers of the town to the effect that if they interfered with his men when they came ashore, he would open fire upon the town with his cannon, and blow every house into splinters. Of course the citizens, having no way of defending themselves, were obliged to allow the pirates to come on shore and depart unmolested. Then after this the blustering captain captured two valuable sloops, and wishing to take them along with him without the trouble of transferring their cargoes to his own vessel, he left their crews on board, and ordered them to follow him wherever he went. Some days after that, when one of the vessels seemed to be sailing at too great a distance, Bonnet quickly let her captain know that he was not a man to be trifled with, and sent him the message that if he did not keep close to the _Royal James_, he would fire into him and sink him to the bottom. After a time Bonnet put into a North Carolina port in order to repair the _Royal James_, which was becoming very leaky, and seeing no immediate legitimate way of getting planks and beams enough with which to make the necessary repairs, he captured a small sloop belonging in the neighborhood, and broke it up in order to get the material he needed to make his own vessel seaworthy. Now the people of the North Carolina coast very seldom interfered with pirates, as we have seen, and it is likely that Bonnet might have stayed in port as long as he pleased, and repaired and refitted his vessel without molestation if he had bought and paid for the planks and timber he required. But when it came to boldly seizing their property, that was too much even for the people of the region, and complaints of Bonnet's behavior spread from settlement to settlement, and it very soon became known all down the coast that there was a pirate in North Carolina who was committing depredations there and was preparing to set out on a fresh cruise. When these tidings came to Charles Town, the citizens were thrown into great agitation. It had not been long since Blackbeard had visited their harbor, and had treated them with such brutal insolence, and there were bold spirits in the town who declared that if any effort by them could prevent another visitation of the pirates, that effort should be made. There was no naval force in the harbor which could be sent out to meet the pirates, who were coming down the coast; but Mr. William Rhett, a private gentleman of position in the place, went to the Governor and offered to fit out, at his own expense, an expedition for the purpose of turning away from their city the danger which threatened it. Chapter XXVI The Battle of the Sand Bars When that estimable private gentleman, Mr. William Rhett, of Charles Town, had received a commission from the Governor to go forth on his own responsibility and meet the dreaded pirate, the news of whose depredations had thrown the good citizens into such a fever of apprehension, he took possession, in the name of the law, of two large sloops, the _Henry_ and the _Sea-Nymph_, which were in the harbor, and at his own expense he manned them with well-armed crews, and put on board of each of them eight small cannon. When everything was ready, Mr. Rhett was in command of a very formidable force for those waters, and if he had been ready to sail a few days sooner, he would have had an opportunity of giving his men some practice in fighting pirates before they met the particular and more important sea-robber whom they had set out to encounter. Just as his vessel was ready to sail, Mr. Rhett received news that a pirate ship had captured two or three merchantmen just outside the harbor, and he put out to sea with all possible haste and cruised up and down the coast for some time, but he did not find this most recent depredator, who had departed very promptly when he heard that armed ships were coming out of the harbor. Now Mr. Rhett, who was no more of a sailor than Stede Bonnet had been when he first began his seafaring life, boldly made his way up the coast to the mouth of Cape Fear River, where he had been told the pirate vessel was lying. When he reached his destination, Mr. Rhett found that it would not be an easy thing to ascend the river, for the reason that the pilots he had brought with him knew nothing about the waters of that part of the coast, and although the two ships made their way very cautiously, it was not long after they had entered the river before they got out of the channel, and it being low tide, both of them ran aground upon sand bars. This was a very annoying accident, but it was not disastrous, for the sailing masters who commanded the sloops knew very well that when the tide rose, their vessels would float again. But it prevented Mr. Rhett from going on and making an immediate attack upon the pirate vessel, the topmasts of which could be plainly seen behind a high headland some distance up the river. Of course Bonnet, or Captain Thomas, as he now chose to be called, soon became aware of the fact that two good-sized vessels were lying aground near the mouth of the river, and having a very natural curiosity to see what sort of craft they were, he waited until nightfall and then sent three armed boats to make observations. When these boats returned to the _Royal James_ and reported that the grounded vessels were not well-loaded trading craft, but large sloops full of men and armed with cannon, Bonnet (for we prefer to call him by his old name) had good reason to fold his arms, knit his brows, and strut up and down the deck. He was sure that the armed vessels came from Charles Town, and there was no reason to doubt that if the Governor of South Carolina had sent two ships against him the matter was a very serious one. He was penned up in the river, he had only one fighting vessel to contend against two, and if he could not succeed in getting out to sea before he should be attacked by the Charles Town ships, there would be but little chance of his continuing in his present line of business. If the _Royal James_ had been ready to sail, there is no doubt that Bonnet would have taken his chance of finding the channel in the dark, and would have sailed away that night without regard to the cannonading which might have been directed against him from the two stranded vessels. But as it was impossible to get ready to sail, Bonnet went to work with the greatest energy to get ready to fight. He knew that when the tide rose there would be two armed sloops afloat, and that there would be a regular naval battle on the quiet waters of Cape Fear River. All night his men worked to clear the decks and get everything in order for the coming combat, and all night Mr. Rhett and his crews kept a sharp watch for any unexpected move of the enemy, while they loaded their guns, their pistols, and their cannon, and put everything in order for action. Very early in the morning the wide-awake crews of the South Carolina vessels, which were now afloat and at anchor, saw that the topmasts of the pirate craft were beginning to move above the distant headland, and very soon Bonnet's ship came out into view, under full sail, and as she veered around they saw that she was coming toward them. Up went the anchors and up went the sails of the _Henry_ and the _Sea-Nymph_, and the naval battle between the retired army officer who had almost learned to be a sailor, and the private gentleman from South Carolina, who knew nothing whatever about managing ships, was about to begin. It was plain to the South Carolinians that the great object of the pirate captain was to get out to sea just as soon as he could, and that he was coming down the river, not because he wished to make an immediate attack upon them, but because he hoped to slip by them and get away. Of course they could follow him upon the ocean and fight him if their vessels were fast enough, but once out of the river with plenty of sea-room, he would have twenty chances of escape where now he had one. But Mr. Rhett did not intend that the pirates should play him this little trick; he wanted to fight the dastardly wretches in the river, where they could not get away, and he had no idea of letting them sneak out to sea. Consequently as the _Royal James_, under full sail, was making her way down the river, keeping as far as possible from her two enemies, Mr. Rhett ordered his ships to bear down upon her so as to cut off her retreat and force her toward the opposite shore of the river. This manoeuvre was performed with great success. The two Charles Town sloops sailed so boldly and swiftly toward the _Royal James_ that the latter was obliged to hug the shore, and the first thing the pirates knew they were stuck fast and tight upon a sand bar. Three minutes afterward the _Henry_ ran upon a sand bar, and there being enough of these obstructions in that river to satisfy any ordinary demand, the _Sea-Nymph_ very soon grounded herself upon another of them. But unfortunately she took up her permanent position at a considerable distance from her consort. Here now were the vessels which were to conduct this memorable sea-fight, all three fast in the sand and unable to move, and their predicament was made the worse by the fact that it would be five hours before the tide would rise high enough for any one of them to float. The positions of the three vessels were very peculiar and awkward; the _Henry_ and the _Royal James_ were lying so near to each other that Mr. Rhett could have shot Major Bonnet with a pistol if the latter gentleman had given him the chance, and the _Sea-Nymph_ was so far away that she was entirely out of the fight, and her crew could do nothing but stand and watch what was going on between the other two vessels. But although they could not get any nearer each other, nor get away from each other, the pirates and Mr. Rhett's crew had no idea of postponing the battle until they should be afloat and able to fight in the ordinary fashion of ships; they immediately began to fire at each other with pistols, muskets, and cannon, and the din and roar was something that must have astonished the birds and beasts and fishes of that quiet region. As the tide continued to run out of the river, and its waters became more and more shallow, the two contending vessels began to careen over to one side, and, unfortunately for the _Henry_, they both careened in the same direction, and in such a manner that the deck of the _Royal James_ was inclined away from the _Henry_, while the deck of the latter leaned toward her pirate foe. This gave a great advantage to Bonnet and his crew, for they were in a great measure protected by the hull of their vessel, whereas the whole deck of the _Henry_ was exposed to the fire of the pirates. But Mr. Rhett and his South Carolinians were all brave men, and they blazed away with their muskets and pistols at the pirates whenever they could see a head above the rail of the _Royal James_, while with their cannon they kept firing at the pirate's hull. For five long hours the fight continued, but the cannon carried by the two vessels must have been of very small calibre, for if they had been firing at such short range and for such a length of time with modern guns, they must have shattered each other into kindling wood. But neither vessel seems to have been seriously injured, and although there were a good many men killed on both sides, the combat was kept up with great determination and fury. At one time it seemed almost certain that Bonnet would get the better of Mr. Rhett, and he ordered his black flag waved contemptuously in the air while his men shouted to the South Carolinians to come over and call upon them, but the South Carolina boys answered these taunts with cheers and fired away more furiously than ever. The tide was now coming in, and everybody on board the two fighting vessels knew very well that the first one of them which should float would have a great advantage over the other, and would probably be the conqueror. In came the tide, and still the cannons roared and the muskets cracked, while the hearts of the pirates and the South Carolinians almost stood still as they each watched the other vessel to see if she showed any signs of floating. At last such signs were seen; the _Henry_ was further from the shore than the _Royal James_, and she first felt the influence of the rising waters. Her masts began to straighten, and at last her deck was level, and she floated clear of the bottom while her antagonist still lay careened over on her side. Now the pirates saw there was no chance for them; in a very short time the other Carolina sloop would be afloat, and then the two vessels would bear down upon them and utterly destroy both them and their vessel. Consequently upon the _Royal James_ there was a general disposition to surrender and to make the best terms they could, for it would be a great deal better to submit and run the chance of a trial than to keep up the fight against enemies so much superior both in numbers and ships, who would soon be upon them. But Bonnet would not listen to one word of surrender. Rather than give up the fight he declared he would set fire to the powder magazine of the _Royal James_ and blow himself, his ship, and his men high up into the air. Although he had not a sailor's skill, he possessed a soldier's soul, and in spite of his being a dastardly and cruel pirate he was a brave man. But Bonnet was only one, and his crew numbered dozens, and notwithstanding his furiously dissenting voice it was determined to surrender, and when Mr. Rhett sailed up to the _Royal James_, intending to board her if the pirates still showed resistance, he found them ready to submit to terms and to yield themselves his prisoners. Thus ended the great sea-fight between the private gentlemen, and thus ended Stede Bonnet's career. He and his men were taken to Charles Town, where most of the pirate crew were tried and executed. The green-hand pirate, who had wrought more devastation along the American coast than many a skilled sea-robber, was held in custody to await his trial, and it seems very strange that there should have been a public sentiment in Charles Town which induced the officials to treat this pirate with a certain degree of respect simply from the fact that his station in life had been that of a gentleman. He was a much more black-hearted scoundrel than any of his men, but they were executed as soon as possible while his trial was postponed and he was allowed privileges which would never have been accorded a common pirate. In consequence of this leniency he escaped and had to be retaken by Mr. Rhett. It was so long before he was tried that sympathy for his misfortunes arose among some of the tender-hearted citizens of Charles Town whose houses he would have pillaged and whose families he would have murdered if the exigencies of piracy had rendered such action desirable. Finding that other people were trying to save his life, Bonnet came down from his high horse and tried to save it himself by writing piteous letters to the Governor, begging for mercy. But the Governor of South Carolina had no notion of sparing a pirate who had deliberately put himself under the protection of the law in order that he might better pursue his lawless and wicked career, and the green hand, with the black heart, was finally hung on the same spot where his companions had been executed. Chapter XXVII A Six Weeks' Pirate About the time of Stede Bonnet's terminal adventures a very unpretentious pirate made his appearance in the waters of New York. This was a man named Richard Worley, who set himself up in piracy in a very small way, but who, by a strict attention to business, soon achieved a remarkable success. He started out as a scourge upon the commerce of the Atlantic Ocean with only an open boat and eight men. In this small craft he went down the coast of New Jersey taking everything he could from fishing boats and small trading vessels until he reached Delaware Bay, and here he made a bold stroke and captured a good-sized sloop. When this piratical outrage was reported at Philadelphia, it created a great sensation, and people talked about it until the open boat with nine men grew into a great pirate ship filled with roaring desperadoes and cutthroats. From Philadelphia the news was sent to New York, and that government was warned of the great danger which threatened the coast. As soon as this alarming intelligence was received, the New Yorkers set to work to get up an expedition which should go out to sea and endeavor to destroy the pirate vessel before it could enter their port, and work havoc among their merchantmen. It may seem strange that a small open boat with nine men could stir up such a commotion in these two great provinces of North America, but if we can try to imagine the effect which would be produced among the inhabitants of Staten Island, or in the hearts of the dwellers in the beautiful houses on the shores of the Delaware River, by the announcement that a boat carrying nine desperate burglars was to be expected in their neighborhood, we can better understand what the people of New York and Philadelphia thought when they heard that Worley had captured a sloop in Delaware Bay. The expedition which left New York made a very unsuccessful cruise. It sailed for days and days, but never saw a sign of a boat containing nine men, and it returned disappointed and obliged to report no progress. With Worley, however, progress had been very decided. He captured another sloop, and this being a large one and suitable to his purposes, he took possession of it, gave up his open boat, and fitted out his prize as a regular piratical craft. With a good ship under his command, Captain Worley now enlarged his sphere of action; on both shores of Delaware Bay, and along the coast of New Jersey, he captured everything which came in his way, and for about three weeks he made the waters in those regions very hot for every kind of peaceable commercial craft. If Worley had been in trade, his motto would have been "Quick sales and small profits," for by day and by night, the _New York's Revenge_, which was the name he gave to his new vessel, cruised east and west and north and south, losing no opportunity of levying contributions of money, merchandise, food, and drink upon any vessel, no matter how insignificant it might be. The Philadelphians now began to tremble in their shoes; for if a boat had so quickly grown into a sloop, the sloop might grow into a fleet, and they had all heard of Porto Bello, and the deeds of the bloody buccaneers. The Governor of Pennsylvania, recognizing the impending danger and the necessity of prompt action, sent to Sandy Hook, where there was a British man-of-war, the _Phoenix_, and urged that this vessel should come down into Delaware Bay and put an end to the pirate ship which was ravaging those waters. Considering that Worley had not been engaged in piracy for much more than four weeks, he had created a reputation for enterprise and industry, which gave him a very important position as a commerce destroyer, and a large man-of-war did not think that he was too small game for her to hunt down, and so she set forth to capture or destroy the audacious Worley. But never a Worley of any kind did she see. While the _Phoenix_ was sailing along the coast, examining all the coves and harbors of New Jersey and Pennsylvania, the _New York's Revenge_ put out to sea, and then proceeded southward to discover a more undisturbed field of operation. We will now leave Worley's vessel sailing southward, and go for a time to Charles Town, where some very important events were taking place. The Governor of South Carolina had been very much afraid that the pirates in general would take some sort of revenge for the capture of Stede Bonnet, who was then in prison awaiting trial, and that if he should be executed, Charles Town might be visited by an overpowering piratical force, and he applied to England to have a war-vessel sent to the harbor. But before any relief of this kind could be expected, news came to Charles Town that already a celebrated pirate, named Moody, was outside of the harbor, capturing merchant vessels, and it might be that he was only waiting for the arrival of other pirate ships to sail into the harbor and rescue Bonnet. Now the Charles Town citizens saw that they must again act for themselves, and not depend upon the home government. If there were pirates outside the harbor, they must be met and fought before they could come up to the city; and the Governor and the Council decided immediately to fit out a little fleet. Four merchant vessels were quickly provided with cannon, ammunition, and men, and the command of this expedition would undoubtedly have been given to Mr. Rhett had it not been that he and the Governor had quarrelled. There being no naval officers in Charles Town, their fighting vessels had to be commanded by civilians, and Governor Johnson now determined that he would try his hand at carrying on a sea-fight. Mr. Rhett had done very well; why should not he? Before the Governor's little fleet of vessels, one of which was the _Royal James_, captured from Bonnet, was quite ready to sail, the Governor received news that his preparations had not been made a moment too soon, for already two vessels, one a large ship, and the other an armed sloop, had come into the outer harbor, and were lying at anchor off Sullivan's Island. It was very likely that Moody, having returned from some outside operation, was waiting there for the arrival of other pirate ships, and that it was an important thing to attack him at once. As it was very desirable that the pirates should not be frightened away before the Charles Town fleet could reach them, the vessels of the latter were made to look as much like mere merchantmen as possible. Their cannon were covered, and the greater part of the crews was kept below, out of sight. Thus the four ships came sailing down the bay, and early in the morning made their appearance in the sight of the pirates. When the ship and the big sloop saw the four merchant vessels sailing quietly out of the harbor, they made immediate preparations to capture them. Anchors were weighed, sails were set, and with a black flag flying from the topmast of each vessel, the pirates steered toward the Charles Town fleet, and soon approached near enough to the _King William_, which was the foremost of the fleet, to call upon her captain to surrender. But at that moment Governor Johnson, who was on board the _Mediterranean_, and could hear the insolent pirate shouting through his speaking-trumpet, gave a preconcerted signal. Instantly everything was changed. The covers were jerked off from the cannon of the pretended merchantmen, armed men poured up out of the holds, the flag of England was quickly raised on each one of them, and the sixty-eight guns of the combined fleet opened fire upon the astonished pirates. The ship which seemed to be the more formidable of the enemy's vessels had run up so close to her intended prey that two of Governor Johnson's vessels, the _Sea-Nymph_ and the _Royal James_, once so bitterly opposed to each other, but now fighting together in honest comradeship, were able to go between her and the open sea and so cut off her retreat. But if the captain of the pirate ship could not get away, he showed that he was very well able to fight, and although the two vessels which had made him the object of their attack were pouring cannon balls and musket shot upon him, he blazed away with his cannon and his muskets. The three vessels were so near each other that sometimes their yard-arms almost touched, so that this terrible fight seemed almost like a hand-to-hand conflict. For four hours the roaring of the cannon, the crushing of timbers, the almost continuous discharge of musketry were kept up, while the smoke of the battle frequently almost prevented the crews of the contending ships from seeing each other. Not so very far away the people of Charles Town, who were standing on the shores of their beautiful harbor, could see the fierce fight which was going on, and great was the excitement and anxiety throughout the city. But the time came when two ships grew too much for one, and as the _Royal James_ and the _Sea-Nymph_ were able to take positions by which they could rake the deck of the pirate vessel, many of her men gave up the fight and rushed down into the hold to save their lives. Then both the Charles Town vessels bore down upon the pirate and boarded her, and now there was another savage battle with pistols and cutlasses. The pirate captain and several of his crew were still on deck, and they fought like wounded lions, and it was not until they had all been cut down or shot that victory came to the men of Charles Town. Very soon after this terrible battle was over the waiting crowds in the city saw a glorious sight; the pirate ship came sailing slowly up the harbor, a captured vessel, with the _Sea-Nymph_ on one side and the _Royal James_ on the other, the colors of the Crown flying from the masts of each one of the three. The other pirate ship, which was quite large, seemed to be more fortunate than her companion, for she was able to get out to sea, and spreading all her sails she made every effort to escape. Governor Johnson, however, had no idea of letting her get away if he could help it. When a civilian goes out to fight a sea-battle he naturally wants to show what he can do, and Governor Johnson did not mean to let people think that Mr. Rhett was a better naval commander than he was. He ordered the _Mediterranean_ and the _King William_ to put on all sail, and away they went after the big ship. The retreating pirates did everything they could to effect escape, throwing over their cannon, and even their boats, in order to lighten their ship, but it was of no use. The Governor's vessels were the faster sailers, and when the _King William_ got near enough to fire a few cannon balls into the flying ship, the latter hauled down the black flag and without hesitation lay to and surrendered. It was plain enough that this ship was not manned by desperate pirates, and when Governor Johnson went on board of her he found her to be not really a pirate ship, but an English vessel which not long before had been captured by the pirates in whose company she had visited Charles Town harbor. She had been bringing over from England a company of convicts and what were called "covenant servants," who were going to the colonies to be disposed of to the planters for a term of years. Among these were thirty-six women, and when the South Carolinians went below they were greatly surprised to find the hold crowded with these unfortunate creatures, some of whom were nearly frightened to death. At the time of this vessel's capture the pirate captain had enlisted some of the convicts into his crew, as he needed men, and putting on board of his prize a few pirates to command her, the ship had been worked by such of her own crew and passengers as were willing to serve under pirates, while the others were shut up below. Here was a fine prize taken with very little trouble, and the _King William_ and the _Mediterranean_ returned to Charles Town with their captured ship, to be met with the shouts and cheers of the delighted citizens, already excited to a high pitch by the previous arrival of the captured pirate sloop. But Governor Johnson met with something else which made a stronger impression on him than the cheers of his townspeople, and this was the great surprise of finding that he had not fought and conquered the pirate Moody; without suspecting such a thing, he had crushed and utterly annihilated the dreaded Worley, whose deeds had created such a consternation in northern waters, and whose threatened approach had sent a thrill of excitement all down the coast. When this astonishing news became known, the flags of the city were waved more wildly, and the shouts and cheers rose higher. Thus came to an end, in the short time of six weeks, the career of Richard Worley, who, without doubt, did more piratical work in less time than any sea-robber on record. Chapter XXVIII The Story of Two Women Pirates The history of the world gives us many instances of women who have taken the parts of men, almost always acquitting themselves with as much credit as if they had really belonged to the male sex, and, in our modern days, these instances are becoming more frequent than ever before. Joan of Arc put on a suit of armor and bravely led an army, and there have been many other fighting women who made a reputation for themselves; but it is very seldom that we hear of a woman who became a pirate. There were, however, two women pirates who made themselves very well known on our coast. The most famous of these women pirates was named Mary Reed. Her father was an English captain of a trading vessel, and her mother sailed with him. This mother had had an elder child, a son, and she also had a mother-in-law in England from whom she expected great things for her little boy. But the boy died, and Mrs. Reed, being afraid that her mother-in-law would not be willing to leave any property to a girl, determined to play a little trick, and make believe that her second child was also a boy. Consequently, as soon as the little girl, who, from her birth had been called Mary by her father and mother, was old enough to leave off baby clothes, she put on boy's clothes, and when the family returned to England a nice little boy appeared before his grandmother; but all this deception amounted to nothing, for the old lady died without leaving anything to the pretended boy. Mary's mother believed that her child would get along better in the world as a boy than she would as a girl, and therefore she still dressed her in masculine clothes, and put her out to service as a foot-boy, or one of those youngsters who now go by the name of "Buttons." But Mary did not fancy blacking boots and running errands. She was very well satisfied to be a boy, but she wanted to live the kind of a boy's life which would please her fancy, and as she thought life on the ocean wave would suit her very well, she ran away from her employer's house and enlisted on board a man-of-war as a powder monkey. After a short time, Mary found that the ocean was not all that she expected it to be, and when she had grown up so that she looked like a good strapping fellow, she ran away from the man-of-war when it was in an English port, and went to Flanders, and there she thought she would try something new, and see whether or not she would like a soldier's life better than that of a sailor. She enlisted in a regiment of foot, and in the course of time she became a very good soldier and took part in several battles, firing her musket and charging with her bayonet as well as any of the men beside her. But there is a great deal of hard work connected with infantry service, and although she was eager for the excitement of battle with the exhilarating smell of powder and the cheering shouts of her fellow-soldiers, Mary did not fancy tramping on long marches, carrying her heavy musket and knapsack. She got herself changed into a regiment of cavalry, and here, mounted upon a horse, with the encumbrances she disliked to carry comfortably strapped behind her, Mary felt much more at ease, and much better satisfied. But she was not destined to achieve fame as a dashing cavalry man with foaming steed and flashing sabre. One of her comrades was a very prepossessing young fellow, and Mary fell in love with him, and when she told him she was not really a cavalry man but a cavalry woman, he returned her affection, and the two agreed that they would quit the army, and set up domestic life as quiet civilians. They were married, and went into the tavern-keeping business. They were both fond of horses, and did not wish to sever all connection with the method of life they had just given up, and so they called their little inn the Three Horse Shoes, and were always glad when any one of their customers came riding up to their stables, instead of simply walking in their door. But this domestic life did not last very long. Mary's husband died, and, not wishing to keep a tavern by herself, she again put on the dress of a man and enlisted as a soldier. But her military experience did not satisfy her, and after all she believed that she liked the sea better than the land, and again she shipped as a sailor on a vessel bound for the West Indies. Now Mary's desire for change and variety seemed likely to be fully satisfied. The ship was taken by English pirates, and as she was English and looked as if she would make a good freebooter, they compelled her to join them, and thus it was that she got her first idea of a pirate's life. When this company disbanded, she went to New Providence and enlisted on a privateer, but, as was very common on such vessels commissioned to perform acts of legal piracy, the crew soon determined that illegal piracy was much preferable, so they hoisted the black flag, and began to scourge the seas. Mary Reed was now a regular pirate, with a cutlass, pistol, and every outward appearance of a daring sea-robber, except that she wore no bristling beard, but as her face was sunburned and seamed by the weather, she looked mannish enough to frighten the senses out of any unfortunate trader on whose deck she bounded in company with her shouting, hairy-faced companions. It is told of her that she did not fancy the life of a pirate, but she seemed to believe in the principle of whatever is worth doing is worth doing well; she was as ready with her cutlass and her pistol as any other ocean bandit. But although Mary was a daring pirate, she was also a woman, and again she fell in love. A very pleasant and agreeable sailor was taken prisoner by the crew of her ship, and Mary concluded that she would take him as her portion of the spoils. Consequently, at the first port they touched she became again a woman and married him, and as they had no other present method of livelihood he remained with her on her ship. Mary and her husband had no real love for a pirate's life, and they determined to give it up as soon as possible, but the chance to do so did not arrive. Mary had a very high regard for her new husband, who was a quiet, amiable man, and not at all suited to his present life, and as he had become a pirate for the love of her, she did everything she could to make life easy for him. She even went so far as to fight a duel in his place, one of the crew having insulted him, probably thinking him a milksop who would not resent an affront. But the latent courage of Mary's husband instantly blazed up, and he challenged the insulter to a duel. Although Mary thought her husband was brave enough to fight anybody, she thought that perhaps, in some ways, he was a milksop and did not understand the use of arms nearly as well as she did. Therefore, she made him stay on board the ship while she went to a little island near where they were anchored and fought the duel with sword and pistol. The man pirate and the woman pirate now went savagely to work, and it was not long before the man pirate lay dead upon the sand, while Mary returned to an admiring crew and a grateful husband. During her piratical career Mary fell in with another woman pirate, Anne Bonny, by name, and these women, being perhaps the only two of their kind, became close friends. Anne came of a good family. She was the daughter of an Irish lawyer, who went to Carolina and became a planter, and there the little girl grew up. When her mother died she kept the house, but her disposition was very much more masculine than feminine. She was very quick-tempered and easily enraged, and it is told of her that when an Englishwoman, who was working as a servant in her father's house, had irritated Anne by some carelessness or impertinence, that hot-tempered young woman sprang upon her and stabbed her with a carving-knife. It is not surprising that Anne soon showed a dislike for the humdrum life on a plantation, and meeting with a young sailor, who owned nothing in the world but the becoming clothes he wore, she married him. Thereupon her father, who seems to have been as hot-headed as his daughter, promptly turned her out of doors. The fiery Anne was glad enough to adopt her husband's life, and she went to sea with him, sailing to New Providence. There she was thrown into an entirely new circle of society. Pirates were in the habit of congregating at this place, and Anne was greatly delighted with the company of these daring, dashing sea-robbers, of whose exploits she had so often heard. The more she associated with the pirates, the less she cared for the plain, stupid sailors, who were content with the merchant service, and she finally deserted her husband and married a Captain Rackham, one of the most attractive and dashing pirates of the day. Anne went on board the ship of her pirate husband, and as she was sure his profession would exactly suit her wild and impetuous nature, she determined also to become a pirate. She put on man's clothes, girded to her side a cutlass, and hung pistols in her belt. During many voyages Anne sailed with Captain Rackham, and wherever there was pirate's work to do, she was on deck to do it. At last the gallant captain came to grief. He was captured and condemned to death. Now there was an opportunity for Anne's nature to assert itself, and it did, but it was a very different sort of nature from that of Mary Reed. Just before his execution Anne was admitted to see her husband, but instead of offering to do anything that might comfort him or palliate his dreadful misfortune, she simply stood and contemptuously glared at him. She was sorry, she said, to see him in such a predicament, but she told him plainly that if he had had the courage to fight like a man, he would not then be waiting to be hung like a dog, and with that she walked away and left him. On the occasion when Captain Rackham had been captured, Mary Reed and her husband were on board his ship, and there was, perhaps, some reason for Anne's denunciation of the cowardice of Captain Rackham. As has been said, the two women were good friends and great fighters, and when they found the vessel engaged in a fight with a man-of-war, they stood together upon the deck and boldly fought, although the rest of the crew, and even the captain himself, were so discouraged by the heavy fire which was brought to bear on them, that they had retreated to the hold. Mary and Anne were so disgusted at this exhibition of cowardice, that they rushed to the hatchways and shouted to their dastardly companions to come up and help defend the ship, and when their entreaties were disregarded they were so enraged that they fired down into the hold, killing one of the frightened pirates and wounding several others. But their ship was taken, and Mary and Anne, in company with all the pirates who had been left alive, were put in irons and carried to England. When she was in prison, Mary declared that she and her husband had firmly intended to give up piracy and become private citizens. But when she was put on trial, the accounts of her deeds had a great deal more effect than her words upon her judges, and she was condemned to be executed. She was saved, however, from this fate by a fever of which she died soon after her conviction. The impetuous Anne was also condemned, but the course of justice is often very curious and difficult to understand, and this hard-hearted and sanguinary woman was reprieved and finally pardoned. Whether or not she continued to disport herself as a man we do not know, but it is certain that she was the last of the female pirates. There are a great many things which women can do as well as men, and there are many professions and lines of work from which they have been long debarred, and for which they are most admirably adapted, but it seems to me that piracy is not one of them. It is said that a woman's nature is apt to carry her too far, and I have never heard of any man pirate who would allow himself to become so enraged against the cowardice of his companions that he would deliberately fire down into the hold of a vessel containing his wife and a crowd of his former associates. Chapter XXIX A Pirate from Boyhood About the beginning of the eighteenth century there lived in Westminster, England, a boy who very early in life made a choice of a future career. Nearly all boys have ideas upon this subject, and while some think they would like to be presidents or generals of armies, others fancy that they would prefer to be explorers of unknown countries or to keep candy shops. But it generally happens that these youthful ideas are never carried out, and that the boy who would wish to sell candy because he likes to eat it, becomes a farmer on the western prairie, where confectionery is never seen, and the would-be general determines to study for the ministry. But Edward Low, the boy under consideration, was a different sort of a fellow. The life of a robber suited his youthful fancy, and he not only adopted it at a very early age, but he stuck to it until the end of his life. He was much stronger and bolder than the youngsters with whom he associated, and he soon became known among them as a regular land pirate. If a boy possessed anything which Ned Low desired, whether it happened to be an apple, a nut, or a farthing, the young robber gave chase to him, and treated him as a pirate treats a merchant vessel which he has boarded. Not only did young Low resemble a pirate in his dishonest methods, but he also resembled one in his meanness and cruelty; if one of his victims was supposed by him to have hidden any of the treasures which his captor believed him to possess, Low would inflict upon him every form of punishment which the ingenuity of a bad boy could devise, in order to compel him to confess where he had concealed the half-penny which had been given to him for holding a horse, or the ball with which he had been seen playing. In the course of time this young street pirate became a terror to all boys in that part of London in which he lived, and by beginning so early he acquired a great proficiency in dishonest and cruel practices. It is likely that young Low inherited his knavish disposition, for one of his brothers became a very bold and ingenious thief, and invented a new kind of robbery which afterwards was popular in London. This brother grew to be a tall fellow, and it was his practice to dress himself like a porter,--one of those men who in those days carried packages and parcels about the city. On his head he poised a basket, and supporting this burden with his hands, he hurriedly made his way through the most crowded streets of London. The basket was a heavy one, but it did not contain any ordinary goods, such as merchandise or marketing; but instead of these it held a very sharp and active boy seven years old, one of the younger members of the Low family. As the tall brother pushed rapidly here and there among the hurrying people on the sidewalks, the boy in the basket would suddenly stretch out with his wiry young arm, and snatch the hat or the wig of some man who might pass near enough for him to reach him. This done, the porter and his basket would quickly be lost in the crowd; and even if the astonished citizen, suddenly finding himself hatless and wigless, beheld the long-legged Low, he would have no reason to suppose that that industrious man with the basket on his head had anything to do with the loss of his head covering. This new style of street robbery must have been quite profitable, for of course the boy in the basket was well instructed, and never snatched at a shabby hat or a poor looking wig. The elder Low came to have a good many imitators, and it happened in the course of time that many a worthy citizen of London wished there were some harmless way of gluing his wig to the top of his head, or that it were the custom to secure the hat by means of strings tied under the chin. As Ned Low grew up to be a strong young fellow, he also grew discontented with the pilferings and petty plunders which were possible to him in the London streets, and so he went to sea and sailed to America. He landed in Boston, and, as it was necessary to work in order to eat,--for opportunities of a dishonest livelihood had not yet opened themselves before him,--he undertook to learn the trade of a rigger, but as he was very badly suited to any sort of steady occupation, he soon quarrelled with his master, ran away, and got on board a vessel bound for Honduras. For a time he earned a livelihood by cutting logwood, but it was not long before he quarrelled with the captain of the vessel for whom he was working, and finally became so enraged that he tried to kill him. He did not succeed in this dastardly attempt, but as he could not commit murder he decided to do the next worst thing, and so gathering together twelve of the greatest rascals among his companions, they seized a boat, went out to the captain's schooner, which was lying near shore, and took possession of it. Then they hoisted anchor, ran up the sail, and put out to sea, leaving the captain and the men who were with him to take care of themselves the best that they could and live on logwood leaves if they could find nothing else to eat. Now young Low was out upon the ocean in possession of a vessel and in command of twelve sturdy scoundrels, and he did not have the least trouble in the world in making up his mind what he should do next. As soon as he could manufacture a black flag from materials he found on board, he flung this ominous ensign to the breeze, and declared himself a pirate. This was the summit of his ambition, and in this new profession he had very little to learn. From a boy thief to a man pirate the way is easy enough. The logwood schooner, of course, was not provided with the cannon, cutlasses, and pistols necessary for piratical undertakings, and therefore Low found himself in the position of a young man beginning business with a very small capital. So, in the hopes of providing himself with the necessary appliances for his work, Low sailed for one of the islands of the West Indies which was a resort for pirates, and there he had very good fortune, for he fell in with a man named Lowther who was already well established in the profession of piracy. When Low sailed into the little port with his home-made black flag floating above him, Lowther received him with the greatest courtesy and hospitality, and shortly afterwards proposed to the newly fledged pirate to go into partnership with him. This offer was accepted, and Low was made second in command of the little fleet of two vessels, each of which was well provided with arms, ammunition, and all things necessary for robbery on the high seas. The partnership between these two rascals did not continue very long. They took several valuable prizes, and the more booty he obtained, the higher became Low's opinion of himself, and the greater his desire for independent action. Therefore it was that when they had captured a large brigantine, Low determined that he would no longer serve under any man. He made a bargain with Lowther by which they dissolved partnership, and Low became the owner of the brigantine. In this vessel, with forty-four men as a crew, he again started out in the black flag business on his own account, and parting from his former chief officer, he sailed northward. As Low had landed in Boston, and had lived some time in that city, he seems to have conceived a fancy for New England, which, however, was not at all reciprocated by the inhabitants of that part of the country. Among the first feats which Low performed in New England waters was the capture of a sloop about to enter one of the ports of Rhode Island. When he had taken everything out of this vessel which he wanted, Low cut away the yards from the masts and stripped the vessel of all its sails and rigging. As his object was to get away from these waters before his presence was discovered by the people on shore, he not only made it almost impossible to sail the vessel he had despoiled, but he wounded the captain and others of the peaceful crew so that they should not be able to give information to any passing craft. Then he sailed away as rapidly as possible in the direction of the open sea. In spite, however, of all the disadvantages under which they labored, the crew of the merchant vessel managed to get into Block Island, and from there a small boat was hurriedly rowed over to Rhode Island, carrying intelligence of the bold piracy which had been committed so close to one of its ports. When the Governor heard what had happened, he quickly sent out drummers to sound the alarm in the seaport towns and to call upon volunteers to go out and capture the pirates. So great was the resentment caused by the audacious deed of Low that a large number of volunteers hastened to offer their services to the Governor, and two vessels were fitted out with such rapidity that, although their commanders had only heard of the affair in the morning, they were ready to sail before sunset. They put on all sail and made the best speed they could, and although they really caught sight of Low's ship, the pirate vessel was a swifter craft than those in pursuit of her, and the angry sailors of Rhode Island were at last compelled to give up the chase. The next of Low's transactions was on a wholesale scale. Rounding Cape Cod and sailing up the coast, he at last reached the vicinity of Marblehead, and there, in a harbor called in those days Port Rosemary, he found at anchor a fleet of thirteen merchant vessels. This was a grand sight, as welcome to the eye of a pirate as a great nugget of gold would be to a miner who for weary days had been washing yellow grains from the "pay dirt" which he had laboriously dug from the hard soil. It would have been easy for Low to take his pick from these vessels quietly resting in the little harbor, for he soon perceived that none of them were armed nor were they able to protect themselves from assault, but his audacity was of an expansive kind, and he determined to capture them all. Sailing boldly into the harbor, he hoisted the dreadful black flag, and then, standing on his quarter-deck with his speaking-trumpet, he shouted to each vessel as he passed it that if it did not surrender he would board it and give no quarter to captain or crew. Of course there was nothing else for the peaceful sailors to do but to submit, and so this greedy pirate took possession of each vessel in turn and stripped it of everything of value he cared to take away. But he did not confine himself to stealing the goods on board these merchantmen. As he preferred to command several vessels instead of one, he took possession of some of the best of the ships and compelled as many of their men as he thought he would need to enter his service. Then, as one of the captured vessels was larger and better than his brigantine, he took it for his own ship, and at the head of the little pirate fleet he bid farewell to Marblehead and started out on a grand cruise against the commerce of our coast. It is wonderful how rapidly this man Low succeeded in his business enterprises. Beginning with a little vessel with a dozen unarmed men, he found himself in a very short time at the head of what was perhaps the largest piratical force in American waters. What might have happened if Nature had not taken a hand in this game it is not difficult to imagine, for our seaboard towns, especially those of the South, would have been an easy prey to Low and his fleet. But sailing down to the West Indies, probably in order to fit out his ships with guns, arms, and ammunition before beginning a naval campaign, his fleet was overtaken by a terrible storm, and in order to save the vessels they were obliged to throw overboard a great many of the heavier goods they had captured at Marblehead, and when at last they found shelter in the harbor of a small island, they were glad that they had escaped with their lives. The grasping and rapacious Low was not now in a condition to proceed to any rendezvous of pirates where he might purchase the arms and supplies he needed. A great part of his valuable plunder had gone to the bottom of the sea, and he was therefore obliged to content himself with operations upon a comparatively small scale. How small and contemptible this scale was it is scarcely possible for an ordinary civilized being to comprehend, but the soul of this ignoble pirate was capable of extraordinary baseness. When he had repaired the damage to his ships, Low sailed out from the island, and before long he fell in with a wrecked vessel which had lost all its masts in a great storm, and was totally disabled, floating about wherever the winds chose to blow it. The poor fellows on board greatly needed succor, and there is no doubt that when they saw the approach of sails their hopes rose high, and even if they had known what sort of ships they were which were making their way toward them, they would scarcely have suspected that the commander of these goodly vessels was such an utterly despicable scoundrel as he proved to be. Instead of giving any sort of aid to the poor shipwrecked crew, Low and his men set to work to plunder their vessel, and they took from it a thousand pounds in money, and everything of value which they could find on board. Having thus stripped the unfortunate wreck, they departed, leaving the captain and crew of the disabled vessel to perish by storm or starvation, unless some other vessel, manned by human beings and not pitiless beasts, should pass their way and save them. Low now commenced a long series of piratical depredations. He captured many merchantmen, he committed the vilest cruelties upon his victims, and in every way proved himself to be one of the meanest and most black-hearted pirates of whom we have any account. It is not necessary to relate his various dastardly performances. They were all very much of the same order, and none of them possessed any peculiar interest; his existence is referred to in these pages because he was one of the most noted and successful pirates of his time, and also because his career indicated how entirely different was the character of the buccaneers of previous days from that of the pirates who in the eighteenth century infested our coast. The first might have been compared to bold and dashing highwaymen, who at least showed courage and daring; but the others resembled sneak thieves, always seeking to commit a crime if they could do it in safety, but never willing to risk their cowardly necks in any danger. The buccaneers of the olden days were certainly men of the greatest bravery. They did not hesitate to attack well-armed vessels manned by crews much larger than their own, and in later periods they faced cannon and conquered cities. Their crimes were many and vile; but when they committed cruelties they did so in order to compel their prisoners to disclose their hidden treasures, and when they attacked a Spanish vessel, and murdered all on board, they had in their hearts the remembrance that the Spanish naval forces gave no quarter to buccaneers. But pirates such as Edward Low showed not one palliating feature in their infamous characters. To rob and desert a shipwrecked crew was only one of Low's contemptible actions. It appears that he seldom attacked a vessel from which there seemed to be any probability of resistance, and we read of no notable combats or sea-fights in which he was engaged. He preyed upon the weak and defenceless, and his inhuman cruelties were practised, not for the sake of extorting gain from his victims, but simply to gratify his spite and love of wickedness. There were men among Low's followers who looked upon him as a bold and brave leader, for he was always a blusterer and a braggart, and there were honest seamen and merchants who were very much afraid of him, but time proved that there was no reason for any one to suppose that Edward Low had a spark of courage in his composition. He was brave enough when he was attacking an unarmed crew, but when he had to deal with any vessel capable of inflicting any injury upon him he was a coward indeed. Sailing in company with one companion vessel,--for he had discarded the greater part of his pirate fleet,--Low sighted a good-sized ship at a considerable distance, and he and his consort immediately gave chase, supposing the distant vessel might prove to be a good prize. It so happened, however, that the ship discovered by Low was an English man-of-war, the _Greyhound_, which was cruising along the coast looking for these very pirates, who had recently committed some outrageous crimes upon the crews of merchant vessels in those waters. When the two ships, with the black flags floating above them and their decks crowded with desperate fellows armed with pistols and cutlasses, drew near to the vessel, of which they expected to make a prize, they were greatly amazed when she suddenly turned in her course and delivered a broadside from her heavy cannon. The pirates returned the fire, for they were well armed with cannon, and there was nothing else for them to do but fight, but the combat was an extremely short one. Low's consort was soon disabled by the fire from the man-of-war, and, as soon as he perceived this, the dastardly Low, without any regard for his companions in arms, and with no thought for anything but his own safety, immediately stopped fighting, and setting all sail, sped away from the scene of combat as swiftly as it was possible for the wind to force his vessel through the water. The disabled pirate ship was quickly captured, and not long afterwards twenty-five of her crew were tried, convicted, and hung near Newport, Rhode Island. But the arrant Low escaped without injury, and continued his career of contemptible crime for some time longer. What finally became of him is not set down in the histories of piracy. It is not improbable that if the men under his command were not too brutally stupid to comprehend his cowardly unfaithfulness to them, they suddenly removed from this world one of the least interesting of all base beings. Chapter XXX The Pirate of the Gulf At the beginning of this century there was a very able and, indeed, talented man living on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, who has been set down in the historical records of the times as a very important pirate, and who is described in story and in tradition as a gallant and romantic freebooter of the sea. This man was Jean Lafitte, widely known as "The Pirate of the Gulf," and yet who was, in fact, so little of a pirate, that it may be doubted whether or not he deserves a place in these stories of American pirates. Lafitte was a French blacksmith, and, while still a young man, he came with his two brothers to New Orleans, and set up a shop in Bourbon Street, where he did a good business in horseshoeing and in other branches of his trade. But he had a soul which soared high above his anvil and his bellows, and perceiving an opportunity to take up a very profitable occupation, he gave up blacksmithing, and with his two brothers as partners became a superintendent of privateering and a general manager of semi-legalized piracy. The business opportunity which came to the watchful and clear-sighted Lafitte may be briefly described. In the early years of this century the Gulf of Mexico was the scene of operations of small vessels calling themselves privateers, but in fact pirates. War had broken out between England and Spain, on the one side, and France on the other, and consequently the first-named nations were very glad to commission privateers to prey upon the commerce of France. There were also privateers who had been sent out by some of the Central American republics who had thrown off the Spanish yoke, and these, considering Spanish vessels as their proper booty, were very much inclined to look upon English vessels in the same light, as the English and Spanish were allies. And when a few French privateers came also upon the scene, they helped to make the business of legitimate capture of merchantmen, during the time of war, a very complicated affair. But upon one point these privateers, who so often acted as pirates, because they had not the spare time in which to work out difficult problems of nationality, were all agreed: when they had loaded their ships with booty, they must sail to some place where it would be safe to dispose of it. So, in course of time, the bay of Barrataria, about forty miles south of New Orleans and very well situated for an illegal settlement, was chosen as a privateers' port, and a large and flourishing colony soon grew up at the head of the bay, to which came privateers of every nationality to dispose of their cargoes. Of course there was no one in the comparatively desolate country about Barrataria who could buy the valuable goods which were brought into that port, but the great object of the owners of this merchandise was to smuggle it up to New Orleans and dispose of it. But there could be no legitimate traffic of this sort, for the United States at the very beginning of the century was at peace with England, France, and Spain, and therefore could not receive into any of her ports, goods which had been captured from the ships of these nations. Consequently the plunder of the privateering pirates of Barrataria was brought up to New Orleans in all sorts of secret and underhand fashions, and sold to merchants in that city, without the custom house having anything to do with the importations. Now this was great business; Jean Lafitte had a great business mind, and therefore it was not long after his arrival at Barrataria before he was the head man in the colony, and director-in-chief of all its operations. Thus, by becoming a prominent figure in a piratical circle, he came to be considered a pirate, and as such came down to us in the pages of history. But, in fact, Lafitte never committed an act of piracy in his life; he was a blacksmith, and knew no more about sailing a ship or even the smallest kind of a boat than he knew about the proper construction of a sonnet. He did not even try, like the celebrated Bonnet, to find other people who would navigate a vessel for him, for he had no taste for the ocean wave, and all that he had to do he did upon firm, dry land. It is said of him that he was never at sea but twice in his life: once when he came from France, and once when he left this country, and on neither occasion did he sail under the "Jolly Roger," as the pirate flag was sometimes called. For these reasons it seems scarcely right to call Lafitte a pirate, but as he has been so generally considered in that light, we will admit him into the bad company, the stories of whose lives we are now telling. The energy and business abilities of Jean Lafitte soon made themselves felt not only in Barrataria, but in New Orleans. The privateers found that he managed their affairs with much discretion and considerable fairness, and, while they were willing to depend upon him, they were obliged to obey him. On the other hand, the trade of New Orleans was very much influenced by the great quantities of goods which under Lafitte's directions were smuggled into the city. Many merchants and shopkeepers who possessed no consciences to speak of were glad to buy these smuggled goods for very little money and to sell them at low prices and large profits, but the respectable business men, who were obliged to pay market prices for their goods, were greatly disturbed by the large quantities of merchandise which were continually smuggled into New Orleans and sold at rates with which they could not compete. It was toward the end of our war with England, which began in 1812, that the government of the United States, urged to speedy action by the increasing complaints of the law-abiding merchants of New Orleans, determined to send out a small naval force and entirely break up the illegitimate rendezvous at Barrataria. Lafitte's two brothers were in New Orleans acting as his agents, and one of them, Dominique, was arrested and thrown into prison, and Commodore Patterson, who was commanding at that station, was ordered to fit out an expedition as quickly as possible to sail down to Barrataria to destroy the ships found in the bay, to capture the town, and to confiscate and seize upon all goods which might be found in the place. When Jean Lafitte heard of the vigorous methods which were about to be taken against him, his prospects must have been very gloomy ones, for of course he could not defend his little colony against a regular naval force, which, although its large vessels could not sail into the shallow bay, could send out boats with armed crews against which it would be foolish for him to contend. But just about this time a very strange thing happened. A strong English naval force had taken possession of Pensacola, Florida, and as an attack upon New Orleans was contemplated, the British commander, knowing of Lafitte's colony at Barrataria, and believing that these hardy and reckless adventurers would be very valuable allies in the proposed movement upon the city, determined to send an ambassador to Lafitte to see what could be done in the way of forming an alliance with this powerful leader of semi-pirates and smugglers. Accordingly, the sloop of war _Sophia_, commanded by Captain Lockyer, was sent to Barrataria to treat with Lafitte, and when this vessel arrived off the mouth of the harbor, which she could not enter, she began firing signal guns in order to attract the attention of the people of the colony. Naturally enough, the report of the _Sophia's_ guns created a great excitement in Barrataria, and all the people who happened to be at the settlement at that time crowded out upon the beach to see what they could see. But the war-vessel was too far away for them to distinguish her nationality, and Lafitte quickly made up his mind that the only thing for him to do was to row out to the mouth of the harbor and see what was the matter. Without doubt he feared that this was the United States vessel which had come to break up his settlement. But whether this was the case or not, he must go out and try the effect of fair words, for he had no desire whatever to defend his interests by hard blows. Before Lafitte reached the vessel he was surprised to find it was a British man-of-war, not an American, and very soon he saw that a boat was coming from it and rowing toward him. This boat contained Captain Lockyer and two other officers, besides the men who rowed it; when the two boats met, the captain told who he was, and asked if Mr. Lafitte could be found in Barrataria, stating that he had an important document to deliver to him. The cautious Frenchman did not immediately admit that he was the man for whom the document was intended, but he said that Lafitte was at Barrataria, and as the two boats rowed together toward shore, he thought it would be as well to announce his position, and did so. When the crowd of privateersmen saw the officers in British uniform landing upon their beach, they were not inclined to receive them kindly, for an attack had been made upon the place by a small British force some time before, and a good deal of damage had been done. But Lafitte quieted the angry feelings of his followers, conducted the officers to his own house, and treated them with great hospitality, which he was able to do in fine style, for his men brought into Barrataria luxuries from all parts of the world. When Lafitte opened the package of papers which Captain Lockyer handed to him, he was very much surprised. Some of them were general proclamations announcing the intention of Great Britain if the people of Louisiana did not submit to her demands; but the most important document was one in which Colonel Nichols, commander-in-chief of the British forces in the Gulf, made an offer to Lafitte and his followers to become a part of the British navy, promising to give amnesty to all the inhabitants of Barrataria, to make their leader a captain in the navy, and to do a great many other good things, provided they would join his forces, and help him to attack the American seaports. In case, however, this offer should be refused, the Barratarians were assured that their place would speedily be attacked, their vessels destroyed, and all their possessions confiscated. Lafitte was now in a state of great perplexity. He did not wish to become a British captain, for his knowledge of horseshoeing would be of no service to him in such a capacity; moreover, he had no love for the British, and his sympathies were all on the side of the United States in this war. But here he was with the British commander asking him to become an ally, and to take up arms against the United States, threatening at the same time to destroy him and his colony in case of refusal. On the other hand, there was the United States at that moment preparing an expedition for the purpose of breaking up the settlement at Barrataria, and to do everything which the British threatened to do, in case Lafitte did not agree to their proposals. The chief of Barrataria might have made a poor show with a cutlass and a brace of pistols, but he was a long-headed and sagacious man, with a strong tendency to practical diplomacy. He was in a bad scrape, and he must act with decision and promptness, if he wanted to get out of it. The first thing he did was to gain time by delaying his answer to the proposition brought by Captain Lockyer. He assured that officer that he must consult with his people and see what they would do, and that he must also get rid of some truculent members of the colony, who would never agree to act in concert with England, and that therefore he should not be able to give an answer to Colonel Nichols for two weeks. Captain Lockyer saw for himself that it would not be an easy matter to induce these independent and unruly fellows, many of whom already hated England, to enter into the British service. Therefore he thought it would be wise to allow Lafitte the time he asked for, and he sailed away, promising to return in fifteen days. The diplomatic Lafitte, having finished for a time his negotiations with the British, lost no time in communicating with the American authorities. He sent to Governor Claiborne, of Louisiana, all the documents he had received from Captain Lockyer, and wrote him a letter in which he told him everything that had happened, and thus gave to the United States the first authentic information of the proposed attack upon Mobile and New Orleans. He then told the Governor that he had no intention of fighting against the country he had adopted; that he was perfectly willing and anxious to aid her in every manner possible, and that he and his followers would gladly join the United States against the British, asking nothing in return except that all proceedings against Barrataria should be abandoned, that amnesty should be given to him and his men, that his brother should be released from prison, and that an act of oblivion should be passed by which the deeds of the smugglers of Barrataria should be condoned and forgotten. Furthermore, he said that if the United States government did not accede to his proposition, he would immediately depart from Barrataria with all his men; for no matter what loss such a proceeding might prove to him he would not remain in a place where he might be forced to act against the United States. Lafitte also wrote to a member of the Louisiana Legislature, and his letters were well calculated to produce a very good effect in his favor. The Governor immediately called a council, and submitted the papers and letters received from Lafitte. When these had been read, two points were considered by the council, the first being that the letters and proclamations from the British might be forgeries concocted by Lafitte for the purpose of averting the punishment which was threatened by the United States; and the second, whether or not it would be consistent with the dignity of the government to treat with this leader of pirates and smugglers. The consultation resulted in a decision not to have anything to do with Lafitte in the way of negotiations, and to hurry forward the preparations which had been made for the destruction of the dangerous and injurious settlement at Barrataria. In consequence of this action of the council, Commodore Patterson sailed in a very few days down the Mississippi and attacked the pirate settlement at Barrataria with such effect that most of her ships were taken, many prisoners and much valuable merchandise captured, and the whole place utterly destroyed. Lafitte, with the greater part of his men, had fled to the woods, and so escaped capture. Captain Lockyer at the appointed time arrived off the harbor of Barrataria and blazed away with his signal guns for forty-eight hours, but receiving no answer, and fearing to send a boat into the harbor, suspecting treachery on the part of Lafitte, he was obliged to depart in ignorance of what had happened. When the papers and letters which had been sent to Governor Claiborne by Lafitte were made public, the people of Louisiana and the rest of the country did not at all agree with the Governor and his council in regard to their decision and their subsequent action, and Edward Livingston, a distinguished lawyer of New York, took the part of Lafitte and argued very strongly in favor of his loyalty and honesty in the affair. Even when it was discovered that all the information which Lafitte had sent was perfectly correct, and that a formidable attack was about to be made upon New Orleans, General Jackson, who was in command in that part of the country, issued a very savage proclamation against the British method of making war, and among their wicked deeds he mentioned nothing which seemed to him to be worse than their endeavor to employ against the citizens of the United States the band of "hellish banditti" commanded by Jean Lafitte! But public opinion was strongly in favor of the ex-pirate of the Gulf, and as things began to look more and more serious in regard to New Orleans, General Jackson was at last very glad, in spite of all that he had said, to accept the renewed offers of Lafitte and his men to assist in the defence of the city, and in consequence of his change of mind many of the former inhabitants of Barrataria fought in the battle of New Orleans and did good work. Their services were so valuable, in fact, that when the war closed President Madison issued a proclamation in which it was stated that the former inhabitants of Barrataria, in consequence of having abandoned their wicked ways of life, and having assisted in the defence of their country, were now granted full pardon for all the evil deeds they had previously committed. Now Lafitte and his men were free and independent citizens of the United States; they could live where they pleased without fear of molestation, and could enter into any sort of legal business which suited their fancy, but this did not satisfy Lafitte. He had endeavored to take a prompt and honest stand on the side of his country; his offers had been treated with contempt and disbelief; he had been branded as a deceitful knave, and no disposition had been shown to act justly toward him until his services became so necessary to the government that it was obliged to accept them. Consequently, Lafitte, accompanied by some of his old adherents, determined to leave a country where his loyalty had received such unsatisfactory recognition, and to begin life again in some other part of the American continent. Not long after the war he sailed out upon the Gulf of Mexico,--for what destination it is not known, but probably for some Central American port,--and as nothing was ever heard of him or his party, it is believed by many persons that they all perished in the great storm which arose soon after their departure. There were other persons, however, who stated that he reached Yucatan, where he died on dry land in 1826. But the end of Lafitte is no more doubtful than his right to the title given to him by people of a romantic turn of mind, and other persons of a still more fanciful disposition might be willing to suppose that the Gulf of Mexico, indignant at the undeserved distinction which had come to him, had swallowed him up in order to put an end to his pretension to the title of "The Pirate of the Gulf." Chapter XXXI The Pirate of the Buried Treasure Among all the pirates who have figured in history, legend, or song, there is one whose name stands preëminent as the typical hero of the dreaded black flag. The name of this man will instantly rise in the mind of almost every reader, for when we speak of pirates we always think of Captain Kidd. In fact, however, Captain Kidd was not a typical pirate, for in many ways he was different from the ordinary marine freebooter, especially when we consider him in relation to our own country. All other pirates who made themselves notorious on our coast were known as robbers, pillagers, and ruthless destroyers of life and property, but Captain Kidd's fame was of another kind. We do not think of him as a pirate who came to carry away the property of American citizens, for nearly all the stories about him relate to his arrival at different points on our shores for the sole purpose of burying and thus concealing the rich treasures which he had collected in other parts of the world. This novel reputation given a pirate who enriched our shore by his deposits and took away none of the possessions of our people could not fail to make Captain Kidd a most interesting personage, and the result has been that he has been lifted out of the sphere of ordinary history and description into the region of imagination and legendary romance. In a word, he has been made a hero of fiction and song. It may be well, then, to assume that there are two Captain Kidds,--one the Kidd of legend and story, and the other the Kidd of actual fact, and we will consider, one at a time, the two characters in which we know the man. As has been said before, nearly all the stories of the legendary Captain Kidd relate to his visits along our northern coast, and even to inland points, for the purpose of concealing the treasures which had been amassed in other parts of the world. Thus if we were to find ourselves in almost any village or rural settlement along the coast of New Jersey or Long Island, and were to fall in with any old resident who was fond of talking to strangers, he would probably point out to us the blackened and weather-beaten ribs of a great ship which had been wrecked on the sand bar off the coast during a terrible storm long ago; he would show us where the bathing was pleasant and safe; he would tell us of the best place for fishing, and probably show us the high bluff a little back from the beach from which the Indian maiden leaped to escape the tomahawk of her enraged lover, and then he would be almost sure to tell us of the secluded spot where it was said Captain Kidd and his pirates once buried a lot of treasure. If we should ask our garrulous guide why this treasure had not been dug up by the people of the place, he would probably shake his head and declare that personally he knew nothing about it, but that it was generally believed that it was there, and he had heard that there had been people who had tried to find it, but if they did find any they never said anything about it, and it was his opinion that if Captain Kidd ever put any gold or silver or precious stones under the ground on that part of the coast these treasures were all there yet. Further questioning would probably develop the fact that there was a certain superstition which prevented a great many people from interfering with the possible deposits which Captain Kidd had made in their neighborhood, and although few persons would be able to define exactly the foundation of the superstition, it was generally supposed that most of the pirates' treasures were guarded by pirate ghosts. In that case, of course, timid individuals would be deterred from going out by themselves at night,--for that was the proper time to dig for buried treasure,--and as it would not have been easy to get together a number of men each brave enough to give the others courage, many of the spots reputed to be the repositories of buried treasure have never been disturbed. In spite of the fear of ghosts, in spite of the want of accurate knowledge in regard to favored localities, in spite of hardships, previous disappointments, or expected ridicule, a great many extensive excavations have been made in the sands or the soil along the coasts of our northern states, and even in quiet woods lying miles from the sea, to which it would have been necessary for the pirates to carry their goods in wagons, people have dug and hoped and have gone away sadly to attend to more sensible business, and far up some of our rivers--where a pirate vessel never floated--people have dug with the same hopeful anxiety, and have stopped digging in the same condition of dejected disappointment. Sometimes these enterprises were conducted on a scale which reminds us of the operations on the gold coast of California. Companies were organized, stock was issued and subscribed for, and the excavations were conducted under the direction of skilful treasure-seeking engineers. It is said that not long ago a company was organized in Nova Scotia for the purpose of seeking for Captain Kidd's treasures in a place which it is highly probable Captain Kidd never saw. A great excavation having been made, the water from the sea came in and filled it up, but the work was stopped only long enough to procure steam pumps with which the big hole could be drained. At last accounts the treasures had not been reached, and this incident is mentioned only to show how this belief in buried treasures continues even to the present day. There is a legend which differs somewhat from the ordinary run of these stories, and it is told about a little island on the coast of Cape Cod, which is called Hannah Screecher's Island, and this is the way its name came to it. Captain Kidd while sailing along the coast, looking for a suitable place to bury some treasure, found this island adapted to his purpose, and landed there with his savage crew, and his bags and boxes, and his gold and precious stones. It was said to be the habit of these pirates, whenever they made a deposit on the coast, to make the hole big enough not only to hold the treasure they wished to deposit there, but the body of one of the crew,--who was buried with the valuables in order that his spirit might act as a day and night watchman to frighten away people who might happen to be digging in that particular spot. The story relates that somewhere on the coast Captain Kidd had captured a young lady named Hannah, and not knowing what to do with her, and desiring not to commit an unnecessary extravagance by disposing of a useful sailor, he determined to kill Hannah, and bury her with the treasure, in order that she might keep away intruders until he came for it. It was very natural that when Hannah was brought on shore and found out what was going to be done with her, she should screech in a most dreadful manner, and although the pirates soon silenced her and covered her up, they did not succeed in silencing her spirit, and ever since that time,--according to the stories told by some of the older inhabitants of Cape Cod,--there may be heard in the early dusk of the evening the screeches of Hannah coming across the water from her little island to the mainland. Mr. James Herbert Morse has written a ballad founded upon this peculiar incident, and with the permission of the author we give it here:-- THE LADY HANNAH. "Now take my hand," quoth Captain Kidd, "The air is blithe, I scent the meads." He led her up the starlit sands, Out of the rustling reeds. The great white owl then beat his breast, Athwart the cedars whirred and flew; "There's death in our handsome captain's eye" Murmured the pirate's crew. And long they lay upon their oars And cursed the silence and the chill; They cursed the wail of the rising wind, For no man dared be still. Of ribald songs they sang a score To stifle the midnight sobs and sighs, They told wild tales of the Indian Main, To drown the far-off cries. But when they ceased, and Captain Kidd Came down the sands of Dead Neck Isle, "My lady wearies," he grimly said, "And she would rest awhile. "I've made her a bed--'tis here, 'tis there, And she shall wake, be it soon or long, Where grass is green and wild birds sing And the wind makes undersong. "Be quick, my men, and give a hand, She loved soft furs and silken stuff, Jewels of gold and silver bars, And she shall have enough. "With silver bars and golden ore, So fine a lady she shall be, A many suitor shall seek her long, As they sought Penelope. "And if a lover would win her hand, No lips e'er kissed a hand so white, And if a lover would hear her sing, She sings at owlet light. "But if a lover would win her gold, And his hands be strong to lift the lid, 'Tis here, 'tis there, 'tis everywhere-- In the chest," quoth Captain Kidd. They lifted long, they lifted well, Ingots of gold, and silver bars, And silken plunder from wild, wild wars, But where they laid them, no man can tell, Though known to a thousand stars. But the ordinary Kidd stories are very much the same, and depend a good deal upon the character of the coast and upon the imagination of the people who live in that region. We will give one of them as a sample, and from this a number of very good pirate stories could be manufactured by ingenious persons. It was a fine summer night late in the seventeenth century. A young man named Abner Stout, in company with his wife Mary, went out for a walk upon the beach. They lived in a little village near the coast of New Jersey. Abner was a good carpenter, but a poor man; but he and his wife were very happy with each other, and as they walked toward the sea in the light of the full moon, no young lovers could have been more gay. When they reached a little bluff covered with low shrubbery, which was the first spot from which they could have a full view of the ocean, Abner suddenly stopped, and pointed out to Mary an unusual sight. There, as plainly in view as if it had been broad daylight, was a vessel lying at the entrance of the little bay. The sails were furled, and it was apparently anchored. For a minute Abner gazed in utter amazement at the sight of this vessel, for no ships, large or small, came to this little lonely bay. There was a harbor two or three miles farther up the coast to which all trading craft repaired. What could the strange ship want here? This unusual visitor to the little bay was a very low and very long, black schooner, with tall masts which raked forward, and with something which looked very much like a black flag fluttering in its rigging. Now the truth struck into the soul of Abner. "Hide yourself, Mary," he whispered. "It is a pirate ship!" And almost at the same instant the young man and his wife laid themselves flat on the ground among the bushes, but they were very careful, each of them, to take a position which would allow them to peep out through the twigs and leaves upon the scene before them. There seemed to be a good deal of commotion on board the black schooner, and very soon a large boat pushed off from her side, and the men in it began rowing rapidly toward the shore, apparently making for a spot on the beach, not far from the bluff on which Abner and Mary were concealed. "Let us get up and run," whispered Mary, trembling from head to toe. "They are pirates, and they are coming here!" "Lie still! Lie still!" said Abner. "If we get up and leave these bushes, we shall be seen, and then they will be after us! Lie still, and do not move a finger!" The trembling Mary obeyed her husband, and they both lay quite still, scarcely breathing, with eyes wide open. The boat rapidly approached the shore. Abner counted ten men rowing and one man sitting in the stern. The boat seemed to be heavily loaded, and the oarsmen rowed hard. Now the boat was run through the surf to the beach, and its eleven occupants jumped out. There was no mistaking their character. They were true pirates. They had great cutlasses and pistols, and one of them was very tall and broad shouldered, and wore an old-fashioned cocked hat. "That's Captain Kidd," whispered Abner to his wife, and she pressed his hand to let him know that she thought he must be right. Now the men came up high upon the beach, and began looking about here and there as if they were searching for something. Mary was filled with horror for fear they should come to that bluff to search, but Abner knew there was no danger of that. They had probably come to those shores to bury treasure, as if they were great sea-turtles coming up upon the beach to lay their eggs, and they were now looking for some good spot where they might dig. Presently the tall man gave some orders in a low voice, and then his men left him to himself, and went back to the boat. There was a great pine tree standing back a considerable distance from the water, battered and racked by storms, but still a tough old tree. Toward this the pirate captain stalked, and standing close to it, with his back against it, he looked up into the sky. It was plain that he was looking for a star. There were very few of these luminaries to be seen in the heavens, for the moon was so bright. But as Abner looked in the direction in which the pirate captain gazed, he saw a star still bright in spite of the moonlight. With his eyes fixed upon this star, the pirate captain now stepped forward, making long strides. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Then he stopped, plunged his right heel in the soft ground, and turned squarely about to the left, so that his broad back was now parallel with a line drawn from the pine tree to the star. At right angles to this line the pirate now stepped forward, making as before seven long paces. Then he stopped, dug his heel into the ground, and beckoned to his men. Up they came running, carrying picks and spades, and with great alacrity they began to dig at the place where the captain had marked with his heel. It was plain that these pirates were used to making excavations, for it was not long before the hole was so deep that those within it could not be seen. Then the captain gave an order to cease digging, and he and all the pirates went back to the boat. For about half an hour,--though Mary thought it was a longer time than that,--those pirates worked very hard carrying great boxes and bags from the boat to the excavation. When everything had been brought up, two of the pirates went down into the hole, and the others handed to them the various packages. Skilfully and quickly they worked, doubtless storing their goods with great care, until nearly everything which had been brought from the boat had been placed in the deep hole. Some rolls of goods were left upon the ground which Mary thought were carpets, but which Abner believed to be rich Persian rugs, or something of that kind. Now the captain stepped aside, and picking up from the sand some little sticks and reeds, he selected ten of them, and with these in one hand, and with their ends protruding a short distance above his closed fingers, he rejoined his men. They gathered before him, and he held out toward them the hand which contained the little sticks. "They're drawing lots!" gasped Abner, and Mary trembled more than she had done yet. Now the lots were all drawn, and one man, apparently a young pirate, stepped out from among his fellows. His head was bowed, and his arms were folded across his manly chest. The captain spoke a few words, and the young pirate advanced alone to the side of the deep hole. Mary now shut her eyes tight, tight; but Abner's were wide open. There was a sudden gleam of cutlasses in the air; there was one short, plaintive groan, and the body of the young pirate fell into the hole. Instantly all the other goods, furs, rugs, or whatever they were, were tumbled in upon him. Then the men began to shovel in the earth and sand, and in an incredibly short time the hole was filled up even with the ground about it. Of course all the earth and sand which had been taken out of the hole could not now be put back into it. But these experienced treasure-hiders knew exactly what to do with it. A spadeful at a time, the soil which could not be replaced was carried to the sea, and thrown out into the water, and when the whole place had been carefully smoothed over, the pirates gathered sticks and stones, and little bushes, and great masses of wild cranberry vines, and scattered them about over the place so that it soon looked exactly like the rest of the beach about it. Then the tall captain gave another low command, the pirates returned to their boat, it was pushed off, and rapidly rowed back to the schooner. Up came the anchor, up went the dark sails. The low, black schooner was put about, and very soon she was disappearing over the darkening waters, her black flag fluttering fiercely high above her. "Now, let us run," whispered poor Mary, who, although she had not seen everything, imagined a great deal; for as the pirates were getting into their boat she had opened her eyes and had counted them, and there were only nine beside the tall captain. Abner thought that her advice was very good, and starting up out of the brushwood they hastened home as fast as their legs would carry them. [Illustration: "Two of the pirates went down into the hole."--p. 302.] The next day Abner seemed to be a changed man. He had work to do, but he neglected it. Never had such a thing happened before! For hours he sat in front of the house, looking up into the sky, counting one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Then he would twist himself around on the little bench, and count seven more. This worthy couple lived in a small house which had a large cellar, and during the afternoon of that day Abner busied himself in clearing out this cellar, and taking out of it everything which it had contained. His wife asked no questions. In her soul she knew what Abner was thinking about. Supper was over, and most of the people in the village were thinking of going to bed, when Abner said to Mary, "Let us each take a spade, and I will carry a pail, and we will go out upon the beach for a walk. If any one should see us, they would think that we were going to dig for clams." "Oh, no, dear Abner!" cried Mary. "We must not dig there! Think of that young pirate. Almost the first thing we would come to would be him!" "I have thought of that," said Abner; "but do you not believe that the most Christian act that you and I could do would be to take him out and place him in a proper grave near by?" "Oh, no!" exclaimed Mary, "do not say such a thing as that! Think of his ghost! They killed him and put him there, that his ghost might guard their treasure. You know, Abner, as well as I do, that this is their dreadful fashion!" "I know all about that," said Abner, "and that is the reason I wish to go to-night. I do not believe there has yet been time enough for his ghost to form. But let us take him out now, dear Mary, and lay him reverently away,--and then!" He looked at her with flashing eyes. "But, Abner," said she, "do you think we have the right?" "Of course we have," said he. "Those treasures do not belong to the pirates. If we take them they are treasure-trove, and legally ours. And think, dear Mary, how poor we are to-night, and how rich we may be to-morrow! Come, get the pail. We must be off." Running nearly all the way,--for they were in such a hurry they could not walk,--Abner and Mary soon reached the bluff, and hastily scrambling down to the beach below, they stood upon the dreadful spot where Captain Kidd and his pirates had stood the night before. There was the old battered pine tree, reaching out two of its bare arms encouragingly toward them. Without loss of time Abner walked up to the tree, put his back to it, and then looked up into the sky. Now he called Mary to him. "Which star do you think he looked at, good wife?" said he. "There is a bright one low down, and then there is another one a little higher up, and farther to the right, but it is fainter." "It would be the bright one, I think," said Mary. And then Abner, his eyes fixed upon the bright star, commenced to stride. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Turning squarely around to the left he again made seven paces. And now he beckoned vigorously to Mary to come and dig. For about ten minutes they dug, and then they laid bare a great mass of rock. "This isn't the place," cried Abner. "I must begin again. I did not look at the right star. I will take the other one." For the greater part of that night Abner and Mary remained upon the beach. Abner would put his back against the tree, fix his eyes upon another star, stride forward seven paces, and then seven to the left, and he would come upon a little scrubby pine tree. Of course that was not the place. The moon soon began to set, and more stars came out, so that Abner had a greater choice. Again and again he made his measurements, and every time that he came to the end of his second seven paces, he found that it would have been impossible for the pirates to make their excavation there. There was clearly something wrong. Abner thought that he had not selected the right star, and Mary thought that his legs were not long enough. "That pirate captain," quoth she, "had a long and manly stride. Seven of his paces would go a far greater distance than seven of yours, Abner." Abner made his paces a little longer; but although he and his wife kept up their work until they could see the early dawn, they found no spot where it would be worth while to dig, and so mournfully they returned to their home and their empty cellar. As long as the moonlight lasted, Abner and Mary went to the little beach at the head of the bay, and made their measurements and their searches but although they sometimes dug a little here and there, they always found that they had not struck the place where the pirate's treasure had been buried. When at last they gave up their search, and concluded to put their household goods back into their cellar, they told the tale to some of the neighbors, and other people went out and dug, not only at the place which had been designated, but miles up and down the coast, and then the story was told and retold, and so it has lasted until the present day. What has been said about the legendary Captain Kidd will give a very good idea of the estimation in which this romantic being has been, and still is, held in various parts of the country, and, of all the legitimate legends about him, there is not one which recounts his piratical deeds upon our coast. The reason for this will be seen when we consider, in the next chapter, the life and character of the real Captain Kidd. Chapter XXXII The Real Captain Kidd William Kidd, or Robert Kidd, as he is sometimes called, was a sailor in the merchant service who had a wife and family in New York. He was a very respectable man and had a good reputation as a seaman, and about 1690, when there was war between England and France, Kidd was given the command of a privateer, and having had two or three engagements with French vessels he showed himself to be a brave fighter and a prudent commander. Some years later he sailed to England, and, while there, he received an appointment of a peculiar character. It was at the time when the King of England was doing his best to put down the pirates of the American coast, and Sir George Bellomont, the recently appointed Governor of New York, recommended Captain Kidd as a very suitable man to command a ship to be sent out to suppress piracy. When Kidd agreed to take the position of chief of marine police, he was not employed by the Crown, but by a small company of gentlemen of capital, who formed themselves into a sort of trust company, or society for the prevention of cruelty to merchantmen, and the object of their association was not only to put down pirates, but to put some money in their own pockets as well. Kidd was furnished with two commissions, one appointing him a privateer with authority to capture French vessels, and the other empowering him to seize and destroy all pirate ships. Kidd was ordered in his mission to keep a strict account of all booty captured, in order that it might be fairly divided among those who were stockholders in the enterprise, one-tenth of the total proceeds being reserved for the King. Kidd sailed from England in the _Adventure_, a large ship with thirty guns and eighty men, and on his way to America he captured a French ship which he carried to New York. Here he arranged to make his crew a great deal larger than had been thought necessary in England, and, by offering a fair share of the property he might confiscate on piratical or French ships, he induced a great many able seamen to enter his service, and when the _Adventure_ left New York she carried a crew of one hundred and fifty-five men. With a fine ship and a strong crew, Kidd now sailed out of the harbor with the ostensible purpose of putting down piracy in American waters, but the methods of this legally appointed marine policeman were very peculiar, and, instead of cruising up and down our coast, he gayly sailed away to the island of Madeira, and then around the Cape of Good Hope to Madagascar and the Red Sea, thus getting himself as far out of his regular beat as any New York constable would have been had he undertaken to patrol the dominions of the Khan of Tartary. By the time Captain Kidd reached that part of the world he had been at sea for nearly a year without putting down any pirates or capturing any French ships. In fact, he had made no money whatever for himself or the stockholders of the company which had sent him out. His men, of course, must have been very much surprised at this unusual neglect of his own and his employers' interests, but when he reached the Red Sea, he boldly informed them that he had made a change in his business, and had decided that he would be no longer a suppressor of piracy, but would become a pirate himself; and, instead of taking prizes of French ships only,--which he was legally empowered to do,--he would try to capture any valuable ship he could find on the seas, no matter to what nation it belonged. He then went on to state that his present purpose in coming into those oriental waters was to capture the rich fleet from Mocha which was due in the lower part of the Red Sea about that time. The crew of the _Adventure_, who must have been tired of having very little to do and making no money, expressed their entire approbation of their captain's change of purpose, and readily agreed to become pirates. Kidd waited a good while for the Mocha fleet, but it did not arrive, and then he made his first venture in actual piracy. He overhauled a Moorish vessel which was commanded by an English captain, and as England was not at war with Morocco, and as the nationality of the ship's commander should have protected him, Kidd thus boldly broke the marine laws which governed the civilized world and stamped himself an out-and-out pirate. After the exercise of considerable cruelty he extorted from his first prize a small amount of money; and although he and his men did not gain very much booty, they had whetted their appetites for more, and Kidd cruised savagely over the eastern seas in search of other spoils. After a time the _Adventure_ fell in with a fine English ship, called the _Royal Captain_, and although she was probably laden with a rich cargo, Kidd did not attack her. His piratical character was not yet sufficiently formed to give him the disloyal audacity which would enable him with his English ship and his English crew, to fall upon another English ship manned by another English crew. In time his heart might be hardened, but he felt that he could not begin with this sort of thing just yet. So the _Adventure_ saluted the _Royal Captain_ with ceremonious politeness, and each vessel passed quietly on its way. But this conscientious consideration did not suit Kidd's crew. They had already had a taste of booty, and they were hungry for more, and when the fine English vessel, of which they might so easily have made a prize, was allowed to escape them, they were loud in their complaints and grumblings. One of the men, a gunner, named William Moore, became actually impertinent upon the subject, and he and Captain Kidd had a violent quarrel, in the course of which the captain picked up a heavy iron-bound bucket and struck the dissatisfied gunner on the head with it. The blow was such a powerful one that the man's skull was broken, and he died the next day. Captain Kidd's conscience seems to have been a good deal in his way; for although he had been sailing about in various eastern waters, taking prizes wherever he could, he was anxious that reports of his misdeeds should not get home before him. Having captured a fine vessel bound westward, he took from her all the booty he could, and then proceeded to arrange matters so that the capture of this ship should appear to be a legal transaction. The ship was manned by Moors and commanded by a Dutchman, and of course Kidd had no right to touch it, but the sharp-witted and business-like pirate selected one of the passengers and made him sign a paper declaring that he was a Frenchman, and that he commanded the ship. When this statement had been sworn to before witnesses, Kidd put the document in his pocket so that if he were called upon to explain the transaction he might be able to show that he had good reason to suppose that he had captured a French ship, which, of course, was all right and proper. Kidd now ravaged the East India waters with great success and profit, and at last he fell in with a very fine ship from Armenia, called the _Quedagh Merchant_, commanded by an Englishman. Kidd's conscience had been growing harder and harder every day, and he did not now hesitate to attack any vessel. The great merchantman was captured, and proved to be one of the most valuable prizes ever taken by a pirate, for Kidd's own share of the spoils amounted to more than sixty thousand dollars. This was such a grand haul that Kidd lost no time in taking his prize to some place where he might safely dispose of her cargo, and get rid of her passengers. Accordingly he sailed for Madagascar. While he was there he fell in with the first pirate vessel he had met since he had started out to put down piracy. This was a ship commanded by an English pirate named Culliford, and here would have been a chance for Captain Kidd to show that, although he might transgress the law himself, he would be true to his engagement not to allow other people to do so; but he had given up putting down piracy, and instead of apprehending Culliford he went into partnership with him, and the two agreed to go pirating together. This partnership, however, did not continue long, for Captain Kidd began to believe that it was time for him to return to his native country and make a report of his proceedings to his employers. Having confined his piratical proceedings to distant parts of the world, he hoped that he would be able to make Sir George Bellomont and the other stockholders suppose that his booty was all legitimately taken from French vessels cruising in the east, and when the proper division should be made he would be able to quietly enjoy his portion of the treasure he had gained. He did not go back in the _Adventure_, which was probably not large enough to carry all the booty he had amassed, but putting everything on board his latest prize, the _Quedagh Merchant_, he burned his old ship and sailed homeward. When he reached the West Indies, however, our wary sea-robber was very much surprised to find that accounts of his evil deeds had reached America, and that the colonial authorities had been so much incensed by the news that the man who had been sent out to suppress piracy had become himself a pirate, that they had circulated notices throughout the different colonies, urging the arrest of Kidd if he should come into any American port. This was disheartening intelligence for the treasure-laden Captain Kidd, but he did not despair; he knew that the love of money was often as strong in the minds of human beings as the love of justice. Sir George Bellomont, who was now in New York, was one of the principal stockholders in the enterprise, and Kidd hoped that the rich share of the results of his industry which would come to the Governor might cause unpleasant reports to be disregarded. In this case he might yet return to his wife and family with a neat little fortune, and without danger of being called upon to explain his exceptional performances in the eastern seas. Of course Kidd was not so foolish and rash as to sail into New York harbor on board the _Quedagh Merchant_, so he bought a small sloop and put the most valuable portion of his goods on board her, leaving his larger vessel, which also contained a great quantity of merchandise, in the charge of one of his confederates, and in the little sloop he cautiously approached the coast of New Jersey. His great desire was to find out what sort of a reception he might expect, so he entered Delaware Bay, and when he stopped at a little seaport in order to take in some supplies, he discovered that there was but small chance of his visiting his home and his family, and of making a report to his superior in the character of a deserving mariner who had returned after a successful voyage. Some people in the village recognized him, and the report soon spread to New York that the pirate Kidd was lurking about the coast. A sloop of war was sent out to capture his vessel, and finding that it was impossible to remain in the vicinity where he had been discovered, Kidd sailed northward and entered Long Island Sound. Here the shrewd and anxious pirate began to act the part of the watch dog who has been killing sheep. In every way he endeavored to assume the appearance of innocence and to conceal every sign of misbehavior. He wrote to Sir George Bellomont that he should have called upon him in order to report his proceedings and hand over his profits, were it not for the wicked and malicious reports which had been circulated about him. It was during this period of suspense, when the returned pirate did not know what was likely to happen, that it is supposed, by the believers in the hidden treasures of Kidd, that he buried his coin and bullion and his jewels, some in one place and some in another, so that if he were captured his riches would not be taken with him. Among the wild stories which were believed at that time, and for long years after, was one to the effect that Captain Kidd's ship was chased up the Hudson River by a man-of-war, and that the pirates, finding they could not get away, sank their ship and fled to the shore with all the gold and silver they could carry, which they afterwards buried at the foot of Dunderbergh Mountain. A great deal of rocky soil has been turned over at different times in search of these treasures, but no discoveries of hidden coin have yet been reported. The fact is, however, that during this time of anxious waiting Kidd never sailed west of Oyster Bay in Long Island. He was afraid to approach New York, although he had frequent communication with that city, and was joined by his wife and family. About this time occurred an incident which has given rise to all the stories regarding the buried treasure of Captain Kidd. The disturbed and anxious pirate concluded that it was a dangerous thing to keep so much valuable treasure on board his vessel which might at any time be overhauled by the authorities, and he therefore landed at Gardiner's Island on the Long Island coast, and obtained permission from the proprietor to bury some of his superfluous stores upon his estate. This was a straightforward transaction. Mr. Gardiner knew all about the burial of the treasure, and when it was afterwards proved that Kidd was really a pirate the hidden booty was all given up to the government. This appears to be the only case in which it was positively known that Kidd buried treasure on our coast, and it has given rise to all the stories of the kind which have ever been told. For some weeks Kidd's sloop remained in Long Island Sound, and then he took courage and went to Boston to see some influential people there. He was allowed to go freely about the city for a week, and then he was arrested. The rest of Kidd's story is soon told; he was sent to England for trial, and there he was condemned to death, not only for the piracies he had committed, but also for the murder of William Moore. He was executed, and his body was hung in chains on the banks of the Thames, where for years it dangled in the wind, a warning to all evil-minded sailors. About the time of Kidd's trial and execution a ballad was written which had a wide circulation in England and America. It was set to music, and for many years helped to spread the fame of this pirate. The ballad was a very long one, containing nearly twenty-six verses, and some of them run as follows:-- My name was Robert Kidd, when I sailed, when I sailed, My name was Robert Kidd, when I sailed, My name was Robert Kidd, God's laws I did forbid, And so wickedly I did, when I sailed. My parents taught me well, when I sailed, when I sailed, My parents taught me well when I sailed, My parents taught me well To shun the gates of hell, But 'gainst them I rebelled, when I sailed. I'd a Bible in my hand, when I sailed, when I sailed, I'd a Bible in my hand when I sailed, I'd a Bible in my hand, By my father's great command, And sunk it in the sand, when I sailed. I murdered William Moore, as I sailed, as I sailed, I murdered William Moore as I sailed, I murdered William Moore, And laid him in his gore, Not many leagues from shore, as I sailed. I was sick and nigh to death, when I sailed, when I sailed, I was sick and nigh to death when I sailed, I was sick and nigh to death, And I vowed at every breath, To walk in wisdom's ways, as I sailed. I thought I was undone, as I sailed, as I sailed, I thought I was undone, as I sailed, I thought I was undone, And my wicked glass had run, But health did soon return, as I sailed. My repentance lasted not, as I sailed, as I sailed, My repentance lasted not, as I sailed, My repentance lasted not, My vows I soon forgot, Damnation was my lot, as I sailed. I spyed the ships from France, as I sailed, as I sailed, I spyed the ships from France, as I sailed, I spyed the ships from France, To them I did advance, And took them all by chance, as I sailed. I spyed the ships of Spain, as I sailed, as I sailed, I spyed the ships of Spain, as I sailed, I spyed the ships of Spain, I fired on them amain, 'Till most of them was slain, as I sailed. I'd ninety bars of gold, as I sailed, as I sailed, I'd ninety bars of gold, as I sailed, I'd ninety bars of gold, And dollars manifold, With riches uncontrolled, as I sailed. Thus being o'er-taken at last, I must die, I must die, Thus being o'er-taken at last, I must die, Thus being o'er-taken at last, And into prison cast, And sentence being passed, I must die. Farewell, the raging main, I must die, I must die, Farewell, the raging main, I must die, Farewell, the raging main, To Turkey, France, and Spain, I shall ne'er see you again, I must die. To Execution Dock I must go, I must go, To Execution Dock I must go, To Execution Dock, Will many thousands flock, But I must bear the shock, and must die. Come all ye young and old, see me die, see me die, Come all ye young and old, see me die, Come all ye young and old, You're welcome to my gold, For by it I've lost my soul, and must die. Take warning now by me, for I must die, for I must die, Take warning now by me, for I must die, Take warning now by me, And shun bad company, Lest you come to hell with me, for I die. It is said that Kidd showed no repentance when he was tried, but insisted that he was the victim of malicious persons who swore falsely against him. And yet a more thoroughly dishonest rascal never sailed under the black flag. In the guise of an accredited officer of the government, he committed the crimes he was sent out to suppress; he deceived his men; he robbed and misused his fellow-countrymen and his friends, and he even descended to the meanness of cheating and despoiling the natives of the West India Islands, with whom he traded. These people were in the habit of supplying pirates with food and other necessaries, and they always found their rough customers entirely honest, and willing to pay for what they received; for as the pirates made a practice of stopping at certain points for supplies, they wished, of course, to be on good terms with those who furnished them. But Kidd had no ideas of honor toward people of high or low degree. He would trade with the natives as if he intended to treat them fairly and pay for all he got; but when the time came for him to depart, and he was ready to weigh anchor, he would seize upon all the commodities he could lay his hands upon, and without paying a copper to the distressed and indignant Indians, he would gayly sail away, his black flag flaunting derisively in the wind. But although in reality Captain Kidd was no hero, he has been known for a century and more as the great American pirate, and his name has been representative of piracy ever since. Years after he had been hung, when people heard that a vessel with a black flag, or one which looked black in the distance, flying from its rigging had been seen, they forgot that the famous pirate was dead, and imagined that Captain Kidd was visiting their part of the coast in order that he might find a good place to bury some treasure which it was no longer safe for him to carry about. There were two great reasons for the fame of Captain Kidd. One of these was the fact that he had been sent out by important officers of the crown who expected to share the profits of his legitimate operations, but who were supposed by their enemies to be perfectly willing to take any sort of profits provided it could not be proved that they were the results of piracy, and who afterwards allowed Kidd to suffer for their sins as well as his own. These opinions introduced certain political features into his career and made him a very much talked-of man. The greater reason for his fame, however, was the widespread belief in his buried treasures, and this made him the object of the most intense interest to hundreds of misguided people who hoped to be lucky enough to share his spoils. There were other pirates on the American coast during the eighteenth century, and some of them became very well known, but their stories are not uncommon, and we need not tell them here. As our country became better settled, and as well-armed revenue cutters began to cruise up and down our Atlantic coast for the protection of our commerce, pirates became fewer and fewer, and even those who were still bold enough to ply their trade grew milder in their manners, less daring in their exploits, and--more important than anything else--so unsuccessful in their illegal enterprises that they were forced to admit that it was now more profitable to command or work a merchantman than endeavor to capture one, and so the sea-robbers of our coasts gradually passed away. 
15685	----	provided by canadiana.org (http://www.canadiana.org/ECO/mtq?doc=34674) A CONTINUATION OF A VOYAGE TO NEW HOLLAND, ETC. IN THE YEAR 1699. Wherein are described, The Islands Timor, Roti and Anabao. A passage between the islands Timor and Anabao. Kupang and Laphao Bays. The islands Omba, Fetter, Banda and Bird. A description of the coast of New Guinea. The islands Pulo Sabuda, Cockle, King William's, Providence, Gerrit Denis, Anthony Cave's and St. John's. Also a new passage between New Guinea and New Britain. The islands Ceram, Bonao, Bouro, and several islands before unknown. The coast of Java, and Straits of Sunda. Author's arrival at Batavia, Cape of Good Hope, St. Helena, island of Ascension, etc. Their inhabitants, customs, trade, etc. Harbours, soil, birds, fish, etc. Trees, plants, fruits, etc. ... Illustrated with maps and draughts: also divers birds, fishes, etc. not found in this part of the world, engraven on eighteen copper plates. ... BY CAPTAIN WILLIAM DAMPIER. ... LONDON, Printed for James and John Knapton, at The Crown in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1729. ... CONTENTS. CHAPTER 1. The Author's departure from the coast of New Holland, with the reasons of it. Watersnakes. The Author's arrival at the island Timor. Search for fresh water on the south side of the island, in vain. Fault of the charts. The island Roti. A passage between the islands Timor and Anabao. Fault of the charts. A Dutch fort, called Concordia. Their suspicion of the Author. The island Anabao described. The Author's parley with the Governor of the Dutch fort. They, with great difficulty, obtain leave to water. Kupang Bay. Coasting along the north side of Timor. They find water and an anchoring-place. A description of a small island, seven leagues east from the watering-bay. Laphao Bay. How the Author was treated by the Portuguese there. Designs of making further searches upon and about the island. Port Sesial. Return to Babao in Kupang Bay. The Author's entertainment at the fort of Concordia. His stay seven weeks at Babao. CHAPTER 2. A particular description of the island Timor. Its coast. The island Anabao. Fault of the charts. The channel between Timor and Anabao. Kupang Bay. Fort Concordia. A particular description of the bay. The anchoring-place, called Babao. The Malayans here kill all the Europeans they can. Laphao, a Portuguese settlement, described. Port Ciccale. The hills, water, lowlands, soil, woods, metals, in the island Timor. Its trees. Cana-fistula-tree described. Wild figtrees described. Two new sorts of palmtrees described. The fruits of the island. The herbs. Its land animals. Fowls. The ringing-bird. Its fish. Cockle merchants and oysters. Cockles as big as a man's head. Its original natives described. The Portuguese and Dutch settlements. The Malayan language generally spoken here. L'Orantuca on the island Ende. The seasons, winds, and weather at Timor. CHAPTER 3. Departure from Timor. The islands Omba and Fetter. A burning island. Their missing the Turtle Isles. Banda Isles. Bird Island. They descry the coast of New Guinea. They anchor on the coast of New Guinea. A description of the place, and of a strange fowl found there. Great quantities of mackerel. A white island. They anchor at an island called by the inhabitants Pulo Sabuda. A description of it and its inhabitants and product. The Indians' manner of fishing there. Arrival at Mabo, the north-west cape of New Guinea. A description of it. Cockle Island. Cockles of seventy-eight pound weight. Pigeon Island. The wind hereabouts. An empty cockleshell weighing two hundred fifty-eight pound. King William's Island. A description of it. Plying on the coast of New Guinea. Fault of the charts. Providence Island. They cross the Line. A snake pursued by fish. Squally Island. The main of New Guinea. CHAPTER 4. The mainland of New Guinea. Its inhabitants. Slingers Bay. Small islands. Gerrit Dennis Isle described. Its inhabitants. Their proas. Anthony Cave's Island. Its inhabitants. Trees full of worms found in the sea. St. John's Island. The mainland of New Guinea. Its inhabitants. The coast described. Cape and Bay St. George. Cape Orford. Another bay. The inhabitants there. A large account of the author's attempts to trade with them. He names the place Port Montague. The country thereabouts described, and its produce. A burning island described. A new passage found. New Britain. Sir George Rook's Island. Long Island and Crown Island, discovered and described. Sir R. Rich's Island. A burning island. A strange spout. A conjecture concerning a new passage southward. King William's Island. Strange whirlpools. Distance between Cape Mabo and Cape St. George computed. CHAPTER 5. The Author's return from the coast of New Guinea. A deep channel. Strange tides. The island Ceram described. Strange fowls. The islands Bonao, Bouro, Misacombi, Pentare, Laubana, and Potoro. The passage between Pentare and Laubana. The island Timor. Babao Bay. The island Roti. More islands than are commonly laid down in the charts. Great currents. Whales. Coast of New Holland. The Trial Rocks. The coast of Java. Princes Isle. Straits of Sunda. Thwart-the-way Island. Indian proas, and their traffic. Passage through the Strait. Arrival at Batavia. CHAPTER 6. The Author continues in Batavia Road to refit, to get provisions. English ships then in the road. Departure from Batavia. Touch at the Cape of Good Hope. And at St. Helena. Arrival at the island of Ascension. A leak sprung. Which being impossible to be stopped, the ship is lost, but the men saved. They find water upon the island. And are brought back to England. MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. MAP. A VIEW OF THE COURSE OF CAPTAIN WILLIAM DAMPIER'S VOYAGE FROM TIMOR ROUND NEW BRITAIN ETC. TABLE 5. TIMOR. TABLE 6. TIMOR. TABLE 7. TIMOR AND OTHER ISLANDS BETWEEN IT AND NEW GUINEA. TABLE 8. NEW GUINEA. FISH, BAT AND BIRD OF NEW GUINEA: THIS FISH IS OF A PALE RED ALL PARTS OF IT EXCEPT THE EYE TAKEN ON THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA. STRANGE AND LARGE BATS ON THE ISLAND PULO SABUDA IN NEW GUINEA. THIS BIRD'S EYE IS OF A BRIGHT RED. TABLE 9. NEW GUINEA. TABLE 10. NEW GUINEA ETC. TABLE 11. SQUALLY AND OTHER ISLANDS ON THE COAST OF NEW BRITAIN. FISHES TAKEN ON THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA: THIS FISH FINS AND TAIL ARE BLUE ON THE EDGES AND RED IN THE MIDDLE WITH BLUE SPOTS ALL OVER THE BODY BUT THE BELLY WHITE. A PIKE-FISH CONGER ON THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA. THIS FISH IS A PALE RED WITH BLUE SPOTS ON THE BODY, THE LONG TAIL BLUE IN THE MIDDLE AND WHITE ON THE SIDE. A FISH. TABLE 12. NEW BRITAIN. FISHES TAKEN ON THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA: THIS FISH HIS FINS AND TAIL IS BLUE WITH BLUE SPOTS ALL OVER THE BODY. FOUR FISH AND A CRUSTACEAN. TABLE 13. DAMPIER'S PASSAGE AND ISLANDS ON THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA. TABLE 14. ISLANDS ON THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA. TABLE 15. GILOLO AND OTHER ISLANDS BETWEEN IT AND BOURO. BIRDS OF NEW GUINEA: THIS BIRD WAS TAKEN ON THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA. A STATELY LAND-FOWL ON THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA DESCRIBED. A STRANGE LAND-FOWL ON THE ISLAND CERAM. TABLE 16. BOURO AND OTHER ISLANDS BETWEEN IT AND AMBO. ... CHAPTER 1. NORTH FROM NEW HOLLAND FOR WATER. THE AUTHOR'S DEPARTURE FROM THE COAST OF NEW HOLLAND, WITH THE REASONS OF IT. I had spent about 5 weeks in ranging off and on the coast of New Holland, a length of about 300 leagues: and had put in at 3 several places to see what there might be thereabouts worth discovering; and at the same time to recruit my stock of fresh water and provisions for the further discoveries I purposed to attempt on the Terra Australis. This large and hitherto almost unknown tract of land is situated so very advantageously in the richest climates of the world, the torrid and temperate zones; having in it especially all the advantages of the torrid zone, as being known to reach from the equator itself (within a degree) to the Tropic of Capricorn, and beyond it; that in coasting round it, which I designed by this voyage, if possible, I could not but hope to meet with some fruitful lands, continent or islands, or both, productive of any of the rich fruits, drugs, or spices (perhaps minerals also, etc.) that are in the other parts of the torrid zone, under equal parallels of latitude; at least a soil and air capable of such, upon transplanting them hither, and cultivation. I meant also to make as diligent a survey as I could of the several smaller islands, shores, capes, bays, creeks, and harbours, fit as well for shelter as defence, upon fortifying them; and of the rocks and shoals, the soundings, tides, and currents, winds and weather, variation, etc., whatever might be beneficial for navigation, trade or settlement; or be of use to any who should prosecute the same designs hereafter; to whom it might be serviceable to have so much of their work done to their hands; which they might advance and perfect by their own repeated experiences. As there is no work of this kind brought to perfection at once I intended especially to observe what inhabitants I should meet with, and to try to win them over to somewhat of traffic and useful intercourse, as there might be commodities among any of them that might be fit for trade or manufacture, or any found in which they might be employed. Though as to the New Hollanders hereabouts, by the experience I had had of their neighbours formerly, I expected no great matters from them. With such views as these I set out at first from England; and would, according to the method I proposed formerly, have gone westward through the Magellanic Strait, or round Tierra del Fuego rather, that I might have begun my discoveries upon the eastern and least known side of the Terra Australis. But that way it was not possible for me to go by reason of the time of year in which I came out; for I must have been compassing the south of America in a very high latitude in the depth of the winter there. I was therefore necessitated to go eastward by the Cape of Good Hope; and when I should be past it it was requisite I should keep in a pretty high latitude, to avoid the general tradewinds that would be against me, and to have the benefit of the variable winds: by all which I was in a manner unavoidably determined to fall in first with those parts of New Holland I have hitherto been describing. For should it be asked why at my first making that shore I did not coast it to the southward, and that way try to get round to the east of New Holland and New Guinea; I confess I was not for spending my time more than was necessary in the higher latitudes; as knowing that the land there could not be so well worth the discovering as the parts that lay nearer the Line and more directly under the sun. Besides, at the time when I should come first on New Holland, which was early in the spring, I must, had I stood southward, have had for some time a great deal of winter weather, increasing in severity, though not in time, and in a place altogether unknown; which my men, who were heartless enough to the voyage at best, would never have borne after so long a run as from Brazil hither. For these reasons therefore I chose to coast along to the northward, and so to the east, and so thought to come round by the south of Terra Australis in my return back, which should be in the summer season there: and this passage back also I now thought I might possibly be able to shorten, should it appear, at my getting to the east coast of New Guinea, that there is a channel there coming out into these seas, as I now suspected, near Rosemary Island: unless the high tides and great indraught thereabout should be occasioned by the mouth of some large river; which has often low lands on each side of its outlet, and many islands and shoals lying at its entrance. But I rather thought it a channel or strait than a river: and I was afterwards confirmed in this opinion when, by coasting New Guinea, I found that other parts of this great tract of Terra Australis, which had hitherto been represented as the shore of a continent, were certainly islands; and it is probably the same with New Holland: though, for reasons I shall afterwards show, I could not return by the way I proposed to myself to fix the discovery. All that I had now seen from the latitude of 27 degrees south to 25, which is Shark's Bay; and again from thence to Rosemary Islands and about the latitude of 20; seems to be nothing but ranges of pretty large islands against the sea, whatever might be behind them to the eastward, whether sea or land, continent or islands. But to proceed with my voyage. Though the land I had seen as yet was not very inviting, being but barren towards the sea, and affording me neither fresh water nor any great store of other refreshments, nor so much as a fit place for careening; yet I stood out to sea again with thoughts of coasting still alongshore (as near as I could) to the north-eastward, for the further discovery of it: persuading myself that at least the place I anchored at in my voyage round the world, in the latitude of 16 degrees 15 minutes, from which I was not now far distant, would not fail to afford me sweet water upon digging, as it did then; for the brackish water I had taken in here, though it served tolerably well for boiling, was yet not very wholesome. With these intentions I put to sea on the 5th of September 1699, with a gentle gale, sounding all the way; but was quickly induced to alter my design. For I had not been out above a day but I found that the shoals among which I was engaged all the while on the coast, and was like to be engaged in, would make it a very tedious thing to sail along by the shore, or to put in where I might have occasion. I therefore edged farther off to sea, and so deepened the water from 11 to 32 fathom. The next day, being September the 6th, we could but just discern the land, though we had then no more than about 30 fathom, uncertain soundings; for even while we were out of sight of land we had once but 7 fathom, and had also great and uncertain tides whirling about, that made me afraid to go near a coast so shallow, where we might be soon aground and yet have but little wind to bring us off: for should a ship be near a shoal she might be hurled upon it unavoidably by a strong tide, unless there should be a good wind to work her and keep her off. Thus also on the 7th day we saw no land, though our water decreased again to 26 fathom; for we had deepened it, as I said, to 30. WATERSNAKES. This day we saw two water-snakes, different in shape from such as we had formerly seen. The one was very small, though long; the other long and as big as a man's leg, having a red head; which I never saw any have, before or since. We had this day latitude 16 degrees 9 minutes by observation. I was by this time got to the north of the place I had thought to have put in at where I dug wells in my former voyage; and though I knew, by the experience I had of it then, that there was a deep entrance in thither from the eastward; yet by the shoals I had hitherto found so far stretched on this coast, I was afraid I should have the same trouble to coast all along afterwards beyond that place: and besides the danger of running almost continually amongst shoals on a strange shore, and where the tides were strong and high; I began to bethink myself that a great part of my time must have been spent in being about a shore I was already almost weary of, which I might employ with greater satisfaction to my mind, and better hopes of success, in going forward to New Guinea. Add to this the particular danger I should have been in upon a lee shore, such as is here described, when the north-west monsoon should once come in; the ordinary season of which was not now far off, though this year it stayed beyond the common season; and it comes on storming at first, with tornadoes, violent gusts, etc. Wherefore quitting the thoughts of putting in again at New Holland, I resolved to steer away for the island Timor; where, besides getting fresh water, I might probably expect to be furnished with fruits and other refreshments to recruit my men, who began to droop; some of them being already to my great grief afflicted with the scurvy, which was likely to increase upon them and disable them, and was promoted by the brackish water they took in last for boiling their oatmeal. It was now also towards the latter end of the dry season; when I might not probably have found water so plentifully upon digging at that part of New Holland as when I was there before in the wet season. And then, considering the time also that I must necessarily spend in getting in to the shore through such shoals as I expected to meet with; or in going about to avoid them; and in digging of wells when I should come hither: I might very well hope to get to Timor and find fresh water there as soon as I could expect to get it at New Holland; and with less trouble and danger. On the 8th of September therefore, shaping our course for Timor, we were in latitude 15 degrees 37 minutes. We had 26 fathom coarse sand; and we saw one whale. We found them lying most commonly near the shore or in shoal water. This day we also saw some small white clouds; the first that we had seen since we came out of Shark's Bay. This was one sign of the approach of the north-north-west monsoon. Another sign was the shifting of the winds; for from the time of our coming to our last anchoring place, the seabreezes which before were easterly and very strong had been whiffling about and changing gradually from the east to the north, and thence to the west, blowing but faintly, and now hanging mostly in some point of the west. This day the winds were at south-west by west, blowing very faint; and the 9th day we had the wind at north-west by north, but then pretty fresh; and we saw the clouds rising more and thicker in the north-west. This night at 12 we lay by for a small low sandy island which I reckoned myself not far from. The next morning at sun-rising we saw it from the top-masthead, right ahead of us; and at noon were up within a mile of it: when by a good observation I found it to lie in 13 degrees 55 minutes. I have mentioned it in my first volume, but my account then made it to lie in 13 degrees 50 minutes. We had abundance of boobies and man-of-war-birds flying about us all the day; especially when we came near the island; which had also abundance of them upon it; though it was but a little spot of sand, scarce a mile round. I did not anchor here nor send my boat ashore; there being no appearance of getting anything on that spot of sand besides birds that were good for little: though had I not been in haste I would have taken some of them. So I made the best of my way to Timor; and on the 11th in the afternoon we saw 10 small land-birds, about the bigness of larks, that flew away north-west. The 13th we saw a great many sea-snakes. One of these, of which I saw great numbers and variety in this voyage, was large, and all black: I never saw such another for his colour. THE AUTHOR'S ARRIVAL AT THE ISLAND TIMOR. We had now for some days small gales from the south-south-west to the north-north-west, and the sky still more cloudy especially in the mornings and evenings. The 14th it looked very black in the north-west all the day; and a little before sunset we saw, to our great joy, the tops of the high mountains of Timor, peeping out of the clouds which had before covered them as they did still the lower parts. We were now running directly towards the middle of the island on the south side: but I was in some doubt whether I should run down alongshore on this south side towards the east end; or pass about the west end, and so range along on the north side, and go that way towards the east end: but as the winds were now westerly I thought it best to keep on the south side, till I should see how the weather would prove; for, as the island lies, if the westerly winds continued and grew tempestuous I should be under the lee of it and have smooth water, and so could go alongshore more safely and easily on this south side: I could sooner also run to the east end where there is the best shelter, as being still more under the lee of the island when those winds blow. Or if, on the other side, the winds should come about again to the eastward, I could but turn back again (as I did afterwards) and passing about the west end, could there prosecute my search on the north side of the island for water, or inhabitants, or a good harbour, or whatever might be useful to me. For both sides of the island were hitherto alike to me, being wholly unacquainted here; only as I had seen it at a distance in my former voyage. SEARCH FOR FRESH WATER ON THE SOUTH SIDE OF THE ISLAND, IN VAIN. I had heard also that there were both Dutch and Portuguese settlements on this island; but whereabouts I knew not: however I was resolved to search about till I found either one of these settlements, or water in some other place. It was now almost night and I did not care to run near the land in the dark, but clapped on a wind and stood off and on till the next morning, being September 15th, when I steered in for the island, which now appeared very plain, being high, double and treble land, very remarkable, on whatever side you view it. See a sight of it in 2 parts, Table 5 Number 1. At 3 in the afternoon we anchored in 14 fathom, soft black oasy ground, about a mile from the shore. See 2 sights more of the coast in Table 5 Numbers 2 and 3, and the island itself in the particular map; which I have here inserted to show the course of the voyage from hence to the eastward; as the general map shows the course of the whole voyage. But in making the particular map I chose to begin only with Timor, that I might not, by extending it too far, be forced to contract the scale too much among the islands, etc., of the New Guinea coast, which I chiefly designed it for. The land by the sea on this south side is low and sandy, and full of tall straight-bodied trees like pines, for about 200 yards inwards from the shore. Beyond that, further in towards the mountains, for a breadth of about 3 miles more or less, there is a tract of swampy mangrove land which runs all along between the sandy land of the shore on one side of it, and the feet of the mountains on the other. And this low mangrove land is overflown every tide of flood by the water that flows into it through several mouths or openings in the outer sandy skirt against the sea. We came to an anchor right against one of these openings; and presently I went in my boat to search for fresh water, or get speech of the natives; for we saw smokes, houses, and plantations against the sides of the mountains, not far from us. It was ebbing water before we got ashore, though the water was still high enough to float us in without any great trouble. After we were within the mouth we found a large salt-water lake which we hoped might bring us up through the mangroves to the fast land: but before we went further I went ashore on the sandy land by the seaside, and looked about me; but saw there no sign of fresh water. Within the sandy bank the water forms a large lake: going therefore into the boat again we rowed up the lake towards the firm land, where no doubt there was fresh water, could we come at it. We found many branches of the lake entering within the mangrove land but not beyond it. Of these we left some on the right hand and some on the left, still keeping in the biggest channel; with still grew smaller, and at last so narrow that we could go no farther, ending among the swamps and mangroves. We were then within a mile of some houses of the Indian inhabitants and the firm land by the sides of the hills: but the mangroves thus stopping our way, we returned as we came: but it was almost dark before we reached the mouth of the creek. It was with much ado that we got out of it again; for it was now low-water, and there went a rough short sea on the bar; which however we passed over without any damage and went aboard. The next morning at five we weighed and stood alongshore to the eastward, making use of the sea and land-breezes. We found the seabreezes here from the south-south-east to the south-south-west, the land-breezes from the north to the north-east. We coasted along about 20 leagues and found it all a straight, bold, even shore, without points, creeks or inlets for a ship: and there is no anchoring till within a mile or a mile and a half of the shore. We saw scarce any opening fit for our boats; and the fast land was still barricaded with mangroves; so that here was no hope to get water; nor was it likely that there should be hereabouts any European settlement, since there was no sign of a harbour. FAULT OF THE CHARTS. The land appeared pleasant enough to the eye: for the sides and tops of the mountains were clothed with woods mixed with savannahs; and there was a plantation of the Indian natives, where we saw the coconuts growing, and could have been glad to have come at some of them. In the chart I had with me a shoal was laid down hereabouts; but I saw nothing of it, going, or coming; and so have taken no notice of it in my map. Weary of running thus fruitlessly along the south side of the island to the eastward I resolved to return the way I came; and compassing the west end of the island, make a search along the north side of it. The rather, because the north-north-west monsoon, which I had designed to be sheltered from by coming the way I did, did not seem to be near at hand, as the ordinary season of them required; but on the contrary I found the winds returning again to the south-eastward; and the weather was fair, and seemed likely to hold so; and consequently the north-north-west monsoon was not like to come in yet. I considered therefore that by going to the north side of the island I should there have the smooth water, as being the lee side as the winds now were; and hoped to have better riding at anchor or landing on that side, than I could expect here, where the shore was so lined with mangroves. Accordingly the 18th about noon I altered my course and steered back again towards the south-west end of the island. This day we struck a dolphin; and the next day saw two more but struck none: we also saw a whale. THE ISLAND ROTI. In the evening we saw the island Roti, and another island to the south of it, not seen in my map; both lying near the south-west end of Timor. On both these islands we saw smokes by day, and fires by night, as we had seen on Timor ever since we fell in with it. I was told afterwards by the Portuguese that they had sugar-works on the island Roti; but I knew nothing of that now; and the coast appearing generally dry and barren, only here and there a spot of trees, I did not attempt anchoring there but stood over again to the Timor coast. A PASSAGE BETWEEN THE ISLANDS TIMOR AND ANABAO. FAULT OF THE CHARTS. September the 21st in the morning, being near Timor, I saw a pretty large opening which immediately I entered with my ship, sounding as I went in: but had no ground till I came within the east point of the mouth of the opening, where I anchored in 9 fathom, a league from the shore. The distance from the east side to the west side of this opening was about 5 leagues. But, whereas I thought this was only an inlet or large sound that ran a great way into the island Timor, I found afterwards that it was a passage between the west end of Timor and another small island called Anamabao or Anabao: into which mistake I was led by my sea-chart, which represented both sides of the opening as parts of the same coast, and called all of it Timor: see all this rectified, and a view of the whole passage as I found it, in a small map I have made of it. Table 6 Number 1. I designed to sail into this opening till I should come to firm land, for the shore was all set thick with mangroves here by the sea, on each side; which were very green, as were also other trees more within-land. We had now but little wind; therefore I sent my boat away, to sound and to let me know by signs what depth of water they met with, if under 8 fathom; but if more I ordered them to go on and make no signs. At 11 that morning, having a pretty fresh gale, I weighed and made sail after my boat; but edged over more to the west shore, because I saw many smaller openings there, and was in hopes to find a good harbour where I might secure the ship; for then I could with more safety send my boats to seek for fresh water. I had not sailed far before the wind came to the south-east and blew so strong that I could not with safety venture nearer that side, it being a lee shore. Besides, my boat was on the east side of the Timor coast; for the other was, as I found afterwards, the Anabao shore; and the great opening I was now in was the strait between that island and Timor; towards which I now tacked and stood over. Taking up my boat therefore I ran under the Timor side, and at 3 o'clock anchored in 29 fathom, half a mile from the shore. That part of the south-west point of Timor where we anchored in the morning bore now south by west, distance 3 leagues: and another point of the island bore north-north-east, distance 2 leagues. A DUTCH FORT, CALLED CONCORDIA. THEIR SUSPICION OF THE AUTHOR. Not long after, we saw a sloop coming about the point last mentioned, with Dutch colours; which I found, upon sending my boat aboard, belonged to a Dutch fort (the only one they have in Timor) about 5 leagues from hence, called Concordia. The governor of the fort was in the sloop, and about 40 soldiers with him. He appeared to be somewhat surprised at our coming this way; which it seems is a passage scarce known to any but themselves; as he told the men I sent to him in my boat. Neither did he seem willing that we should come near their fort for water. He said also that he did not know of any water on all that part of the island, but only at the fort; and that the natives would kill us if they met us ashore. By the small arms my men carried with them in the boat they took us to be pirates, and would not easily believe the account my men gave them of what we were and whence we came. They said that about 2 years before this there had been a stout ship of French pirates here; and that after having been suffered to water, and to refresh themselves, and been kindly used, they had on a sudden gone among the Indians, subjects of the fort, and plundered them and burnt their houses. And the Portuguese here told us afterwards that those pirates, whom they also had entertained, had burnt their houses and had taken the Dutch fort (though the Dutch cared not to own so much) and had driven the governor and factory among the wild Indians their enemies. The Dutch told my men further that they could not but think we had of several nations (as is usual with pirate vessels) in our ship and particularly some Dutchmen, though all the discourse was in French (for I had not one who could speak Dutch) or else, since the common charts make no passage between Timor and Anabao, but lay down both as one island; they said they suspected we had plundered some Dutch ship of their particular charts, which they are forbid to part with. With these jealousies the sloop returned towards their fort, and my boat came back with this news to me: but I was not discouraged at this news; not doubting but I should persuade them better when I should come to talk with them. So the next morning I weighed and stood towards the fort. The winds were somewhat against us so that we could not go very fast, being obliged to tack 2 or 3 times: and, coming near the farther end of the passage between Timor and Anabao, we saw many houses on each side not far from the sea, and several boats lying by the shore. The land on both sides was pretty high, appearing very dry and of a reddish colour, but highest on the Timor side. The trees on either side were but small, the woods thin, and in many places the trees were dry and withered. THE ISLAND ANABAO DESCRIBED. The island Anamabao, or Anabao, is not very big, not exceeding 10 leagues in length and 4 in breadth; yet it has 2 kingdoms in it, namely that of Anamabao on the east side towards Timor and the north-east end; and that of Anabao, which contains the south-west end and the west side of the island; but I known not which of them is biggest. The natives of both are of the Indian kind, of a swarthy copper-colour, with black lank hair. Those of Anamabao are in league with the Dutch, as these afterwards told me, and with the natives of the kingdom of Kupang in Timor, over against them, in which the Dutch fort Concordia stands: but they are said to be inveterate enemies to their neighbours of Anabao. Those of Anabao, besides managing their small plantations of roots and a few coconuts, do fish, strike turtle, and hunt buffaloes, killing them with swords, darts, or lances. But I know not how they get their iron; I suppose by traffic with the Dutch or Portuguese, who send now and then a sloop and trade thither, but well armed; for the natives would kill them, could they surprise them. They go always armed themselves; and when they go a-fishing or a-hunting they spend 4 or 5 days or more in ranging about before they return to their habitation. We often saw them after this at these employments; but they would not come near us. The fish or flesh that they take, besides what serves for present spending, they dry on a barbecue or wooden grate, standing pretty high over the fire, and so carry it home when they return. We came sometimes afterwards to the places where they had meat thus a-drying, but did not touch any of it. But to proceed: I did not think to stop anywhere till I came near the fort; which yet I did not see: but, coming to the end of this passage, I found that if I went any farther I should be open again to the sea. I therefore stood in close to the shore on the east side, and anchored in 4 fathom water, sandy ground; a point of land still hindering me from seeing the fort. But I sent my boat to look about for it; and in a short time she returned, and my men told me they saw the fort, but did not go near it; and that it was not above 4 or 5 miles from hence. It being now late I would not send my boat thither till the next morning: meanwhile about 2 or 300 Indians, neighbours of the fort, and sent probably from thence, came to the sandy bay just against the ship; where they stayed all night, and made good fires. They were armed with lances, swords and targets, and made a great noise all the night: we thought it was to scare us from landing, should we attempt it: but we took little notice of them. THE AUTHOR'S PARLEY WITH THE GOVERNOR OF THE DUTCH FORT. THEY, WITH GREAT DIFFICULTY, OBTAIN LEAVE TO WATER. The next morning, being September the 23rd, I sent my clerk ashore in my pinnace to the governor to satisfy him that we were Englishmen: and in the King's ship, and to ask water of him; sending a young man with him who spoke French. My clerk was with the governor pretty early; and in answer to his queries about me, and my business in these parts, told him that I had the King of England's commission, and desired to speak with him. He beckoned to my clerk to come ashore; but as soon as he saw some small arms in the stern-sheets of the boat he commanded him into the boat again, and would have him be gone. My clerk solicited him that he would allow him to speak with him; and at last the governor consented that he should come ashore, and sent his lieutenant and 3 merchants with a guard of about a hundred of the native Indians to receive him. My clerk said that we were in much want of water, and hoped they would allow us to come to their watering-place and fill. But the governor replied that he had orders not to supply any ships but their own East India Company; neither must they allow any Europeans to come the way that we came; and wondered how we durst come near their fort. My clerk answered him that, had we been enemies, we must have come ashore among them for water: but, said the governor, you are come to inspect into our trade and strength; and I will have you therefore be gone with all speed. My clerk answered him that I had no such design but, without coming nearer them, would be contented if the governor would send water on board where we lay, about 2 leagues from the fort; and that I would make any reasonable satisfaction for it. The governor said that we should have what water we wanted, provided we came no nearer with the ship: and ordered that as soon as we pleased we should send our boat full of empty casks, and come to an anchor with it off the fort, till he sent slaves to bring the casks ashore and fill them; for that none of our men must come ashore. The same afternoon I sent up my boat as he had directed with an officer and a present of some beer for the governor; which he would not accept of, but sent me off about a ton of water. On the 24th in the morning I sent the same officer again in my boat; and about noon the boat returned again with the two principal merchants of the factory and the lieutenant of the fort; for whose security they had kept my officer and one of my boat's crew as hostages, confining them to the governor's garden all the time: for they were very shy of trusting any of them to go into their fort, as my officer said: yet afterwards they were not shy of our company; and I found that my officer maliciously endeavoured to make them shy of me. In the evening I gave the Dutch officers that came aboard the best entertainment I could; and, bestowing some presents on them, sent them back very well pleased; and my officer and the other man were returned to me. Next morning I sent my boat ashore again with the same officer; who brought me word from the governor that we must pay 4 Spanish dollars for every boat-load of water: but in this he spoke falsely, as I understood afterwards from the governor himself and all his officers, who protested to me that no such price was demanded, but left me to give the slaves what I pleased for their labour: the governor being already better satisfied about me than when my clerk spoke to him, or than that officer I sent last would have caused him to be: for the governor being a civil, genteel, and sensible man, was offended at the officer for his being so industrious to misrepresent me. I received from the governor a little lamb, very fat; and I sent him 2 of the guinea-hens that I brought from St. Jago, of which there were none here. I had now 11 buts of water on board, having taken in 7 here, which I would have paid for but that at present I was afraid to send my boat ashore again; for my officer told me, among other of his inventions, that there were more guns mounted in the fort than when we first came; and that he did not see the gentlemen that were aboard the day before; intimating as if they were shy of us; and that the governor was very rough with him; and I, not knowing to the contrary at present, consulted with my other officers what was best to be done; for by this the governor should seem to design to quarrel with us. All my other officers thought it natural to infer so much, and that it was not safe to send the boat ashore any more, lest it should be seized on; but that it was best to go away and seek more water where we could find it. For having now (as I said) 11 buts aboard; and the land being promising this way, I did not doubt finding water in a short time. But my officer who occasioned these fears in us by his own forgeries was himself for going no further; having a mind, as far as I could perceive, to make everything in the voyage, to which he showed himself averse, seem as cross and discouraging to my men as possible, that he might hasten our return; being very negligent and backward in most businesses I had occasion to employ him in; doing nothing well or willingly, though I did all I could to win him to it. He was also industrious to stir up the seamen to mutiny; telling them, among other things, that any Dutch ship might lawfully take us in these seas; but I knew better, and avoided everything that could give just offence. KUPANG BAY. The rest of my officers therefore being resolved to go from hence, and having bought some fish of some Anamabeans who, seeing our ship, came purposely to sell some, passing to and fro every day, I sailed away on the 26th about 5 in the afternoon. We passed along between a small low sandy island (over against the fort) full of bays and pretty high trees; sounding as we went along, and had from 25 to 35 fathom, oasy ground. See the little map of this passage Table 6 Number 1. The 27th in the morning we anchored in the middle of the bay, called Kupang Bay, in 12 fathom, soft oaze, about 4 leagues above the Dutch fort. Their sloop was riding by the fort, and in the night fired a gun; but for what reason I know not, and the governor said afterwards it was the skipper's own doing, without his order. Presently after we had anchored I went in the pinnace to search about the bay for water but found none. Then, returning aboard, I weighed, and ran down to the north entrance of the bay, and at 7 in the evening anchored again in 37 fathom, soft oaze, close by the sandy island, and about 4 leagues from the Dutch fort. The 28th I sent both my boats ashore on the sandy island to cut wood; and by noon they both came back laden. In the afternoon I sent my pinnace ashore on the north coast or point of Kupang Bay, which is called Babao. Late in the night they returned, and told me that they saw great tracks of buffaloes there, but none of the buffaloes themselves; neither did they find any fresh water. They also saw some green-turtle in the sea and one alligator. COASTING ALONG THE NORTH SIDE OF TIMOR. The 29th I went out of Kupang Bay, designing to coast it alongshore on the north side of Timor to the eastward; as well to seek for water, as also to acquaint myself with the island, and to search for the Portuguese settlements; which we were informed were about forty leagues to the eastward of this place. We coasted alongshore with land and seabreezes. The land by the shore was of a moderate height, with high and very remarkable hills farther within the country; their sides all spotted with woods and savannahs. But these on the mountains' sides appeared of a rusty colour, not so pleasant and flourishing as those that we saw on the south side of the island; for the trees seemed to be small and withering; and the grass in the savannahs also looked dry, as if it wanted moisture. But in the valleys, and by the sea side, the trees looked here also more green. Yet we saw no good anchoring-place, or opening, that gave us any encouragement to put in; till the 30th day in the afternoon. We were then running alongshore, at about 4 leagues distance, with a moderate seabreeze; when we opened a pretty deep bay which appeared to be a good road to anchor in. There were two large valleys and one smaller one which, descending from the mountains, came all into one valley by the seaside against this bay, which was full of tall green trees. I presently stood in with the ship till within two leagues of the shore; and then sent in my pinnace, commanded by my chief mate, whose great care, fidelity, and diligence I was well assured of; ordering him to seek for fresh water; and if he found any to sound the bay and bring me word what anchoring there was, and to make haste aboard. As soon as they were gone I stood off a little and lay by. The day was now far spent; and therefore it was late before they got ashore with the boat; so that they did not come aboard again that night. Which I was much concerned at; because in the evening, when the seabreeze was done and the weather calm, I perceived the ship to drive back again to the westward. I was not yet acquainted with the tides here; for I had hitherto met with no strong tides about the island, and scarce any running in a stream, to set me alongshore either way. But after this time I had pretty much of them; and found at present the flood set to the eastward, and the ebb to the westward. The ebb (with which I was now carried) sets very strong and runs 8 or 9 hours. The flood runs but weak, and at most lasts not above 4 hours; and this too is perceived only near the shore; where, checking the ebb, it swells the seas and makes the water rise in the bays and rivers 8 or 9 foot. I was afterwards credibly informed by some Portuguese that the current runs always to the westward in the mid-channel between this island and those that face it in a range to the north of it, namely Misicomba (or Omba) Pintare, Laubana, Ende, etc. THEY FIND WATER AND AN ANCHORING-PLACE. We were driven 4 leagues back again, and took particular notice of a point of land that looked like Flamborough Head, when we were either to the east or west of it; and near the shore it appeared like an island. Four or five leagues to the east of this point is another very remarkable bluff point which is on the west side of the bay that my boat was in. See two sights of this land, Table 6 Numbers 2 and 3. We could not stem the tide till about 3 o'clock in the afternoon; when, the tide running with us, we soon got abreast of the bay, and then saw a small island to the eastward of us. See a sight of it Table 6 Number 4. About 6 we anchored in the bottom of the bay in 25 fathom, soft oaze, half a mile from the shore. I made many false fires in the night, and now and then fired a gun that my boat might find me; but to no purpose. In the morning I found myself driven again by the tide of ebb 3 or 4 leagues to the westward of the place where I left my boat. I had several men looking out for her; but could not get sight of her: besides I continued still driving to the westward; for we had but little wind, and that against us. But by 10 o'clock in the morning we had the comfort of seeing the boat; and at 11 she came aboard, bringing 2 barrecoes of very good water. A DESCRIPTION OF A SMALL ISLAND, SEVEN LEAGUES EAST FROM THE WATERING BAY. The mate told me there was good anchoring close by the watering-place; but that there ran a very strong tide, which near the shore made several races, so that they found much danger in getting ashore, and were afraid to come off again in the night because of the ripplings the tide made. We had now the seabreeze, and steered away for this bay; but could hardly stem the tide till about 3 in the afternoon; when, the tide being turned with us, we went along briskly, and about 6 anchored in the bay, in 25 fathom, soft oaze, half a mile from the shore. The next morning I went ashore to fill water, and before night sent aboard 8 tons. We filled it out of a large pond within 50 paces of the sea. It looked pale but was very good, and boiled peas well. I saw the track of an alligator here. Not far from the pond we found the rudder of a Malayan proa, 3 great jars in a small shed set up against a tree, and a barbecue whereon there had been fish and flesh of buffaloes dressed, the bones lying but a little from it. In 3 days we filled about twenty-six tun of water, and then had on board about 30 tun in all. The 2 following days we spent in fishing with the seine, and the first morning caught as many as served all my ship's company: but afterwards we had not so good success. The rest of my men which could be spared from the ship I sent out; some with the carpenter's mate to cut timber for my boats, etc. These went always guarded with 3 or 4 armed men to secure them: I showed them what wood was fitting to cut for our use, especially the calabash and maho; I showed them always the manner of stripping the maho-bark, and of making therewith thread, twine, ropes, etc. Others were sent out a-fowling; who brought home pigeons, parrots, cockatoos, etc. I was always with one party or other myself; especially with the carpenters, to hasten them to get what they could, that we might be gone from hence. Our water being full, I sailed from hence October the 6th about 4 in the afternoon, designing to coast alongshore to the eastward, till I came to the Portuguese settlements. By the next morning we were driven 3 or 4 leagues to the west of the bay; but in the afternoon, having a faint seabreeze, we got again abreast of it. It was the 11th day at noon before we got as far as the small island before mentioned, which lies about 7 leagues to the east of the watering-bay: for what we gained in the afternoon by the benefit of the seabreezes we lost again in the evenings and mornings, while it was calm, in the interval of the breezes. But this day, the seabreeze blowing fresher than ordinary, we passed by the island and run before night about 7 leagues to the east of it. This island is not half a mile long, and not above 100 yards in breadth, and looked just like a barn when we were by it: it is pretty high, and may be seen from a ship's topmast-head about 10 leagues. The top, and part of the sides, are covered with trees, and it is about 3 leagues from Timor; it is about midway between the watering-place and the Portuguese first and main settlement by the shore. LAPHAO BAY. HOW THE AUTHOR WAS TREATED BY THE PORTUGUESE THERE. In the night we were again driven back toward the island, 3 leagues: but the 12th day, having a pretty brisk seabreeze, we coasted alongshore; and, seeing a great many houses by the sea, I stood in with my ship till I was within 2 miles of them, and then sent in my boat and lay by till it returned. I sent an officer to command the boat; and a Portuguese seaman, that I brought from Brazil, to speak with the men that we saw on the bay; there being a great many of them, both foot and horse. I could not tell what officer there might be amongst them; but I ordered my officer to tell the chief of them that we were English, and came hither for refreshment. As soon as the boat came ashore and the inhabitants were informed who we were they were very glad, and sent me word that I was welcome, and should have anything that the island afforded; and that I must run a little farther about a small point, where I should see more houses; and that the men would stand on the bay, right against the place where I must anchor. With this news the boat immediately returned; adding withal that the governor lived about 7 miles up in the country; and that the chief person here was a lieutenant, who desired me, as soon as the ship was at anchor, to send ashore one of my officers to go to the governor and certify him of our arrival. I presently made sail towards the anchoring-place, and at 5 o'clock anchored in Laphao Bay in 20 fathom, soft oaze, over against the town. A description of which, and of the Portuguese settlement there, shall be given in the following chapter. As soon as I came to anchor I sent my boat ashore with my second mate, to go to the governor. The lieutenant that lived here had provided horses and guides for him, and sent 4 soldiers with him for his guard, and, while he was absent, treated my men with arack at his own house, where he and some others of the townsmen showed them many broad thin pieces of gold; telling them that they had plenty of that metal and would willingly traffic with them for any sort of European commodities. About 11 o'clock my mate returned on board and told me he had been in the country, and was kindly received by the gentleman he went to wait upon; who said we were welcome, and should have anything the island afforded; and that he was not himself the governor, but only a deputy. He asked why we did not salute their fort when we anchored; my mate answered that we saw no colours flying, and therefore did not know there was any fort till he came ashore and saw the guns; and if we had known that there was a fort yet that we could not have given any salute till we knew that they would answer it with the like number of guns. The deputy said it was very well; and that he had but little powder; and therefore would gladly buy some of us, if we had any to spare; which my mate told him we had not. The 13th the deputy sent me aboard a present of 2 young buffaloes, 6 goats, 4 kids, 140 coconuts, 300 ripe mangoes, and 6 ripe jacks. This was all very acceptable; and all the time we lay here we had fresh provision, and plenty of fruits; so that those of my men that were sick of the scurvy soon recovered and grew lusty. I stayed here till the 22nd, went ashore several times, and once purposely to see the deputy, who came out of the country also on purpose to see and talk with me. And then indeed there were guns fired for salutes, both aboard my ship and at the fort. Our interview was in a small church which was filled with the better sort of people; her poorer sort thronging on the outside, and looking in upon us: for the church had no wall but at the east end; the sides and the west end being open, saving only that it had boards about 3 or 4 foot high from the ground. I saw but 2 white men among them all; one was a padre that came along with the lieutenant; the other was an inhabitant of the town. The rest were all copper-coloured, with black lank hair. I stayed there about 2 hours, and we spoke to each other by an interpreter. I asked particularly about the seasons of the year, and when they expected the north-north-west monsoon. The deputy told me that they expected the wind to shift every moment; and that some years the north-north-west monsoon set in in September, but never failed to come in October; and for that reason desired me to make what haste I could from hence; for it was impossible to ride here when those winds came. DESIGNS OF MAKING FURTHER SEARCHES UPON AND ABOUT THE ISLAND. PORT SESIAL. I asked him if there was no harbour hereabouts where I might be secured from the fury of these winds at their first coming. He told me that the best harbour in the island was at a place called Babao on the north side of Kupang Bay; that there were no inhabitants there, but plenty of buffaloes in the woods, and abundance of fish in the sea; that there was also fresh water: that there was another place, called port Sesial, about 20 leagues to the eastward of Laphao; that there was a river of fresh water there, and plenty of fish, but no inhabitants: yet that if I would go thither he would send people with hogs, goats and buffaloes, to truck with me for such commodities as I had to dispose of. I was afterwards told that on the east end of the island Ende there was also a very good harbour, and a Portuguese town; that there was great plenty of refreshments for my men, and dammer for my ship; that the governor or chief of that place was called Captain More; that he was a very courteous gentleman, and would be very glad to entertain an English ship there; and if I designed to go thither, I might have pilots here that would be willing to carry me, if I could get the lieutenant's consent. That it was dangerous going thither without a pilot, by reason of the violent tides that run between the islands Ende and Solor. I was told also that at the island Solor there were a great many Dutchmen banished from other places for certain crimes. I was willing enough to go thither, as well to secure my ship in a good harbour, where I might careen her (there being dammer also, which I could not get here, to make use of instead of pitch, which I now wanted) and where I might still be refreshing my men and supporting them in order to my further discoveries; as also to inform myself more particularly concerning these places as yet so little known to us. Accordingly I accepted the offer of a pilot and two gentlemen of the town, to go with me to Larentuca on the island Ende: and they were to come on board my ship the night before I sailed. But I was hindered of this design by some of my officers who had here also been very busy in doing me all the injury they could underhand. But to proceed. While I stayed here I went ashore every day and my men took there turns to go ashore and traffic for what they had occasion for; and were now all very well again: and to keep themselves in heart every man bought some rice, more or less, to recruit them after our former fatigues. Besides, I ordered the purser to buy some for them, to serve them instead of peas which were now almost spent. I filled up my water-casks again here, and cut more wood; and sent a present to the lieutenant, Alexis Mendosa, designing to be gone; for while I lay here we had some tornadoes and rain, and the sky in the north-west looked very black mornings and evenings, with lightning all night from that quarter, which made me very uneasy and desirous to depart hence; because this road lay exposed to the north-north-west and north winds, which were now daily expected and which are commonly so violent that it is impossible for any ship to ride them out: yet on the other hand it was absolutely necessary for me to spend about 2 months time longer in some place hereabouts before I could prosecute my voyage farther to the eastward; for reasons which I shall give hereafter in its proper place in the ensuing discourse. When therefore I sent the present to the governor I desired to have a pilot to Larentuca on the island Ende; where I desired to spend the time I had to spare. He now sent me word that he could not well do it, but would send me a letter to Port Sesial for the natives, who would come to me there and supply me with what provision they had. I stayed 3 days in hopes yet to get a pilot for Larentuca, or at least the letter from the governor to Port Sesial. But seeing neither I sailed from hence the 22nd of October, coasting to the eastward, designing for Sesial; and before night was about 10 leagues to the east of Laphao. I kept about 3 leagues offshore and my boat ranged along close by the shore, looking into every bay and cove; and at night returned on board. The next morning, being 3 or 4 leagues farther to the eastward, I sent my boat ashore again to find Sesial. At noon they returned and told me they had been at Sesial, as they guessed; that there were two Portuguese barks in the port who threatened to fire at them but did not; telling them this was Porto del Roy de Portugal. They saw also another bark which ran and anchored close by the shore, and the men ran all away for fear: but our men calling to them in Portuguese, they at last came to them, and told them that Sesial was the place which they came from, where the 2 barks lay: had not these men told them they could not have known it to be a port, it being only a little bad cove, lying open to the north; having 2 ledges of rocks at its entrance, one on each side; and a channel between, which was so narrow that it would not be safe for us to go in. However I stood in with the ship, to be better satisfied; and when I came near it found it answer my men's description. I lay by a while to consider what I had best do; for my design was to lie in a place where I might get fresh provisions if I could: for, though my men were again pretty well recruited, and those that had been sick of the scurvy were well again, yet I designed if possible to refresh them as much and as long as I could before I went farther. Besides my ship wanted cleaning; and I was resolved to clean her if possible. RETURN TO BABAO IN KUPANG BAY. At last after much consideration I thought it safer to go away again for Babao; and accordingly stood to the westward. We were now about 60 leagues to the east of Babao. The coast is bold all the way, having no shoals, and but one island which I saw and described coming to the eastward. The land in the country is very mountainous; but there are some large valleys towards the east end. Both the mountains and valleys on this side are barren; some wholly so; and none of them appear so pleasant as the place where I watered. It was the 23rd day in the evening when I stood back again for Babao. We had but small sea and land-breezes. On the 27th we came into Kupang Bay; and the next day, having sounded Babao road, I ran in and came to an anchor there, in 20 fathom, soft oaze, 3 mile from the shore. One reason, as I said before, of my coming hither, was to ride secure and to clean my ship's bottom; as also to endeavour by fishing and hunting of buffaloes to refresh my men and save my salt provision. It was like to be some time before I could clean my ship because I wanted a great many necessaries, especially a vessel to careen by. I had a long-boat in a frame that I brought out of England, by which I might have made a shift to do it; but my carpenter was uncapable to set her up. Besides, by the time the ship's sides were caulked, my pitch was almost spent; which was all owing to the carpenter's wilful waste and ignorance; so that I had nothing to lay on upon the ship's bottom. But instead of this I intended to make lime here, which with oil would have made a good coat for her. Indeed had it been advisable I would have gone in between Cross Island and Timor, and have hauled my ship ashore; for there was a very convenient place to do it in; but, my ship being sharp, I did not dare to do it: besides, I must have taken everything out of her; and I had neither boats to get my things ashore nor hands to look after them when they were there; for my men would have been all employed; and, though here are no Indians living near, yet they come hither in companies when ships are here, on purpose to do any mischief they can to them; and it was not above 2 years since a Portuguese ship riding here, and sending her boat for water to one of the galleys, the men were all killed by the Indians. But to secure my men I never suffered them to go ashore unarmed; and while some were at work others stood to guard them. We lay in this place from October the 28th till December the 12th. In which time we made very good lime with shells, of which here are plenty. We cut palmetto leaves to burn the ship's sides; and, giving her as good a heel as we could, we burned her sides and paid them with lime and water for want of oil to mix with it. This stuck on about 2 months where it was well burned. We did not want fresh provisions all the time we lay here, either of fish or flesh. For there were fair sandy bays on the point of Babao, where in 2 or 3 hours in a morning we used with our seine to drag ashore as much fish as we could eat all the day; and for a change of diet when we were weary of fish I sent 10 or 11 men a-hunting for buffaloes; who never came empty home. They went ashore in the evening or early in the morning, and before noon always returned with their burdens of buffalo, enough to suffice us 2 days; by which time we began to long for fish again. THE AUTHOR'S ENTERTAINMENT AT THE FORT OF CONCORDIA. On the 11th of November the governor of Concordia sent one of his officers to us to know who we were. For I had not sent thither since I came to anchor last here. When the officer came aboard he asked me why we fired so many guns the 4th and 5th days (which we had done in honour of King William and in memory of the deliverance from the powder plot) I told him the occasion of it; and he replied that they were in some fear at the fort that we had been Portuguese, and that we were coming with soldiers to take their fort; he asked me also why I did not stay and fill my water at their fort before I went away from thence? I told him the reason of it and withal offered him money; bidding him take what he thought reasonable: he took none and said he was sorry there had been such a misunderstanding between us; and knew that the governor would be much concerned at it. After a short stay he went ashore; and the next morning came aboard again, and told me the governor desired me to come ashore to the fort and dine with him; and if I doubted anything he would stay aboard till I returned. I told him I had no reason to mistrust anything against me, and would go ashore with him; so I took my clerk and my gunner and went ashore in my pinnace: the gunner spoke very good French, and therefore I took him to be my interpreter because the governor speaks French: he was an honest man, and I found him always diligent and obedient. It was pretty late in the afternoon before we came ashore; so that we had but little time with the governor. He seemed to be much dissatisfied at the report my officer had made to me (of which I have before given an account) and said it was false, neither would he now take any money of me; but told me I was welcome; as indeed I found by what he provided. For there was plenty of very good victuals, and well dressed; and the linen was white and clean; and all the dishes and plates of silver or fine china. I did not meet anywhere with a better entertainment while I was abroad; nor with so much decency and order. Our liquor was wine, beer, toddy, or water, which we liked best after dinner. He showed me some drawers full of shells which were the strangest and most curious that I had ever seen. He told me before I went away that he could not supply me with any naval stores, but if I wanted any fresh provision he would supply me with what I had occasion for. I thanked him and told him I would send my boat for some goats and hogs, though afterwards on second thoughts I did not do it: for it was a great way from the place where we lay to the fort; and I could not tell what mischief might befall any of my men when there from the natives; especially if encouraged by the Dutch, who are enemies to all Europeans but such as are under their own government. Therefore I chose rather to fish and hunt for provisions than to be beholden to the Dutch and pay dearly for it too. HIS STAY SEVEN WEEKS AT BABAO. We found here, as I said before, plenty of game; so that all the time we lay at this place we spent none or very little of our salt provisions; having fish or fresh buffalo every day. We lay here 7 weeks; and, although the north-north-west monsoon was every day expected when I was at Laphao, yet it was not come, so that if I had prosecuted my voyage to the eastward without staying here it had been but to little advantage. For if I had gone out and beaten against the wind a whole month I should not have got far; it may be 40, 50 or 60 leagues; which was but 24 hours run for us with a large wind; besides the trouble and discontent which might have arisen among my men in beating to windward to so little purpose, there being nothing to be got at sea; but here we lived and did eat plentifully every day without trouble. The greatest inconveniency of this place was want of water; this being the latter part of the dry season, because the monsoon was very late this year. About 4 days before we came away we had tornadoes with thunder, lightning and rain, and much wind; but of no long continuance; at which time we filled some water. We saw very black clouds, and heard it thunder every day for near a month before in the mountains; and saw it rain, but none came near us: and even where we hunted we saw great trees torn up by the roots, and great havoc made among the woods by the wind; yet none touched us. CHAPTER 2. A DESCRIPTION OF TIMOR. A PARTICULAR DESCRIPTION OF THE ISLAND TIMOR. The island Timor, as I have said in my Voyage round the World, is about seventy leagues long and fourteen or sixteen broad. It lies nearly north-east and south-west. The middle of it lies in about 9 degrees south latitude. It has no navigable rivers nor many harbours; but abundance of bays for ships to ride in at some seasons of the year. The shore is very bold, free from rocks, shoals or islands, excepting a few which are visible and therefore easily avoided. On the south side there is a shoal laid down in our charts about thirty leagues from the south-west end; I was fifteen or twenty leagues further to the east than that distance, but saw nothing of the shoal; neither could I find any harbour. It is a pretty even shore, with sandy bays and low land for about three or four miles up; and then it is mountainous. There is no anchoring but with half a league or a league at farthest from the shore; and the low land that bounds the sea has nothing but red mangroves, even from the foot of the mountains till you come within a hundred and fifty or two hundred paces of the sea; and then you have sandbanks clothed with a sort of pine; so that there is no getting water on this side because of the mangroves. THE ISLAND ANABAO. FAULT OF THE CHARTS. THE CHANNEL BETWEEN TIMOR AND ANABAO. At the south-west end of Timor is a pretty high island called Anabao. It is about ten or twelve leagues long and about four broad; near which the Dutch are settled. It lies so near Timor that it is laid down in our charts as part of that island; yet we found a narrow deep channel fit for any ships to pass between them. This channel is about ten leagues long and in some places not above a league wide. It runs north-east and south-west, so deep that there is no anchoring but very nigh the shore. There is but little tide; the flood setting north and the ebb to the southward. At the north-east end of this channel are two points of land not above a league asunder; one on the south side upon Timor, called Kupang; the other on the north side, upon the island Anabao. From this last point the land trends away northerly two or three leagues, opens to the sea, and then bends in again to the westward. KUPANG BAY. FORT CONCORDIA. Being past these points you open a bay of about eight leagues long and four wide. This bay trends in on the south side north-east by east from the south point before mentioned; making many small points or little coves. About a league to the east of the said south point the Dutch have a small stone fort, situated on a firm rock close by the sea: this fort they call Concordia. On the east side of the fort there is a small river of fresh water which has a broad boarded bridge over it, near to the entry into the fort. Beyond this river is a small sandy bay where the boats and barks land and convey their traffic in or out of the fort. About a hundred yards from the seaside, and as many from the fort, and forty yards from the bridge on the east side, the Company have a fine garden, surrounded with a good stone wall; in it is plenty of all sorts of salads, cabbages, roots for the kitchen; in some parts of it are fruit-trees, as jacas, pumplenose, oranges, sweet lemons, etc. And by the walls are coconut and toddy-trees in great plenty. Besides these they have musk and watermelons, pineapples, pomecitrons, pomegranates, and other sorts of fruits. Between this garden and the river there is a pen for black cattle, whereof they have plenty. Beyond the Company's ground the natives have their houses, in number about fifty or sixty. There are forty or fifty soldiers belonging to this fort, but I know not how many guns they have; for I had only opportunity to see one bastion, which had in it four guns. Within the walls there is a neat little church or chapel. A PARTICULAR DESCRIPTION OF THE BAY. Beyond Concordia the land runs about seven leagues to the bottom of the bay; then it is not above a league and a half from side to side, and the land trends away northerly to the north shore, then turns about again to the westward, making the south side of the bay. About three leagues and a half from the bottom of the bay on this side there is a small island about a musket-shot from the shore; and a reef of rocks that runs from it to the eastward about a mile. On the west side of the island is a channel of three fathom at low-water, of which depth it is also within, where ships may haul in and careen. West from this island the land rounds away in a bight or elbow, and at last ends in a low point of land which shoots forth a ledge of rocks a mile into the sea, which is dry at low water. Just against the low point of land and to the west of the ledge of rocks is another pretty high and rocky yet woody island, about half a mile from the low point; which island has a ledge of corally rocks running from it all along to the other small island, only leaving one channel between them. Many of these rocks are to be seen at low-water, and there seldom is water enough for a boat to go over them till quarter flood or more. Within this ledge there is two or three fathom water, and without it no less than ten or twelve fathom close to the rocks. A league without this last rocky island is another small low sandy island, about four miles from the low point, three leagues from the Dutch fort Concordia and three leagues and a half from the south-west point of the bay. Ships that come in this way must pass between this low isle and the low point, keeping near the isle. THE ANCHORING-PLACE, CALLED BABAO. In this bay there is any depth of water from thirty to three fathom, very good oazy holding ground. This affords the best shelter against all winds of any place about the island Timor. But from March to October, while either the southerly winds or only land and seabreezes hold, the Concordia side is best to ride in; but when the more violent northerly winds come then the best riding is between the two rocky islands in nineteen or twenty fathom. If you bring the westernmost island to bear south-west by west about a league distance, and the low point west by south; then the body of the sandy island will bear south-west half west, distance two leagues; and the ledges of rocks shooting from each make such a bar that no sea can come in. Then you have the land from west by south to east-north-east to defend you on that side: and other winds do not here blow violently. But if they did yet you are so land-locked that there can be no sea to hurt you. This anchoring-place is called Babao, about five leagues from Concordia. The greatest inconveniency in it is the multitude of worms. Here is fresh water enough to be had in the wet season; every little gulley discharging fresh water into the sea. THE MALAYANS HERE KILL ALL THE EUROPEANS THEY CAN. In the dry season you must search for it in standing ponds or gulleys, where the wild buffaloes, hogs, etc. resort every morning and evening to drink; where you may lie and shoot them, taking care that you go strong enough and well-armed against the natives upon all occasions. For though there are no inhabitants near this place yet the Malayans come in great companies when ships are here; and if they meet with any Europeans they kill them, of what nation soever they be, not excepting the Portuguese themselves. It is but two years since a Portuguese ship riding here had all the boat's crew cut off as they were watering; as I was informed by the Dutch. Here likewise is plenty of fish of several sorts, which may be caught with a seine; also tortoise and oysters. From the north-east point of this bay, on the north side of the island, the land trends away north-north-east for four or five leagues; afterward north-east or more easterly; and when you are fourteen or fifteen leagues to the eastward of Babao you come up with a point that makes like Flamborough Head, if you are pretty nigh the land; but if at a distance from it on either side it appears like an island. This point is very remarkable, there being none other like it in all this island. When you are abreast of this point you will see another point about four leagues to the eastward; and when you are abreast of this latter point you will see a small island bearing east or east by north (according to your distance from the land) just rising out of the water: when you see it plain you will be abreast of a pretty deep sandy bay, which has a point in the middle that comes sloping from the mountains with a curious valley on each side: the sandy bay runs from one valley to the other. You may sail into this bay, and anchor a little to the eastward of the point in twenty fathom water, half a mile from the shore, soft oaze. Then you will be about two leagues from the west point of the bay, and about eight leagues from the small island before mentioned, which you can see pretty plain bearing east-north-east a little northwardly. Some other marks are set down in the foregoing chapter. In this sandy bay you will find fresh water in two or three places. At spring tides you will see many ripplings, like shoals; but they are only eddies caused by the two points of the bay. We saw smokes all day up in the mountains, and fires by night, at certain places where we supposed the natives lived, but saw none of them. The tides ran between the two points of the bay, very strong and uncertain: yet it did not rise and fall above nine foot upon a spring tide: but it made great ripplings and a roaring noise, whirling about like whirlpools. We had constantly eddy tides under the shore, made by the points on each side of the bay. LAPHAO, A PORTUGUESE SETTLEMENT, DESCRIBED. When you go hence to the eastward you may pass between the small island and Timor; and when you are five or six leagues to the eastward of the small island you will see a large valley to the eastward of you; then, running a little further, you may see houses on the bay: you may luff in, but anchor not till you go about the next point. Then you will see more houses where you may run in to twenty or thirty fathom, and anchor right against the houses, nearest the west end of them. This place is called Laphao. It is a Portuguese settlement, about sixteen leagues from the watering-bay. There are in it about forty or fifty houses and one church. The houses are mean and low, the walls generally made of mud or wattled, and their sides made up with boards: they are all thatched with palm or palmetto leaves. The church also is very small: the east end of it is boarded up to the top; but the sides and the west end are only boarded three or four foot high; the rest is all open: there is a small altar in it, with two steps to go up to it, and an image or two; but all very mean. It is also thatched with palm or palmetto leaves. Each house has a yard belonging to it, fenced about with wild canes nine or ten foot high. There is a well in each yard, and a little bucket with a string to it to draw water withal. There is a trunk of a tree made hollow, placed in each well, to keep the earth from falling in. Round the yards there are many fruit-trees planted; as coconuts, tamarinds and toddy-trees. They have a small hovel by the sea side where there are six small old iron guns standing on a decayed platform, in rotten carriages. Their vents are so big that when they are fired, the strength of the powder flying out there, they give but a small report like that of a musket. This is their court of guard; and here were a few armed men watching all the time we lay here. The inhabitants of the town are chiefly a sort of Indians of a copper-colour, with black lank hair: they speak Portuguese and are of the Romish religion; but they take the liberty to eat flesh when they please. They value themselves on the account of their religion and descent from the Portuguese; and would be very angry if a man should say they are not Portuguese; yet I saw but three white men here, two of which were padres. There are also a few Chinese living here. It is a place of pretty good trade and strength, the best on this island, Porta Nova excepted. They have three or four small barks belonging to the place; with which they trade chiefly about the island with the natives for wax, gold, and sandalwood. Sometimes they go to Batavia and fetch European commodities, rice, etc. The Chinese trade hither from Macao; and I was informed that about twenty sail of small vessels come from thence hither every year. They bring coarse rice, adulterated gold, tea, iron, and iron tools, porcelain, silks, etc. They take in exchange pure gold, as it is gathered in the mountains, beeswax, sandalwood, slaves, etc. Sometimes also here comes a ship from Goa. Ships that trade here began to come hither the latter end of March; and none stay here longer than the latter end of August. For should they be here while the north-north-west monsoon blows no cables nor anchors would hold them; but they would be driven ashore and dashed in pieces presently. But from March till September, while the south-south-east monsoon blows, ships ride here very secure; for then, though the wind often blows hard, yet it is offshore; so that there is very smooth water, and no fear of being driven ashore; and yet even then they moor with three cables; two towards the land, eastward and westward; and the third right off to seaward. As this is the second place of traffic so it is in strength the second place the Portuguese have here, though not capable of resisting a hundred men: for the pirates that were at the Dutch fort came hither also; and after they had filled their water and cut firewood and refreshed themselves, they plundered the houses, set them on fire, and went away. Yet I was told that the Portuguese can draw together five or six hundred men in twenty-four hours time, all armed with hand-guns, swords and pistols; but powder and bullets are scarce and dear. The chief person they have on the island is named Antonio Henriquez; they call him usually by the title of Captain More or Maior. They say he is a white man, and that he was sent hither by the viceroy of Goa. I did not see him; for he lives, as I was informed, a great way from hence, at a place called Porta Nova, which is at the east end of the island, and by report is a good harbour; but they say that this Captain More goes frequently to wars in company with the Indians that are his neighbours and friends, against other Indians that are their enemies. The next man to him is Alexis Mendosa; he is a lieutenant, and lives six or seven miles from hence, and rules this part of the country. He is a little man of the Indian race, copper-coloured, with black lank hair. He speaks both the Indian and Portuguese languages; is a Roman Catholic, and seems to be a civil brisk man. There is another lieutenant at Laphao; who is also an Indian; speaks both his own and the Portuguese language very well; is old and infirm, but was very courteous to me. They boast very much of their strength here, and say they are able at any time to drive the Dutch away from the island, had they permission from the king of Portugal so to do. But though they boast thus of their strength yet really they are very weak; for they have but a few small arms and but little powder: they have no fort, nor magazine of arms; nor does the viceroy of Goa send them any now: for though they pretend to be under the king of Portugal they are a sort of lawless people, and are under no government. It was not long since the viceroy of Goa sent a ship hither, and a land-officer to remain here: but Captain More put him in irons, and sent him aboard the ship again; telling the commander that he had no occasion for any officers; and that he could make better officers here than any that could be sent him from Goa: and I know not whether there has been any other ship sent from Goa since: so that they have no supplies from thence: yet they need not want arms and ammunition, seeing they trade to Batavia. However they have swords and lances as other Indians have; and though they are ambitious to be called Portuguese, and value themselves on their religion, yet most of the men and all the women that live here are Indians; and there are very few right Portuguese in any part of the island. However of those that call themselves Portuguese I was told there are some thousands; and I think their strength consists more in their numbers than in good arms or discipline. The land from hence trends away east by north about 14 leagues, making many points and sandy bays, where vessels may anchor. PORT CICCALE. Fourteen leagues east from Laphao there is a small harbour called Ciccale by the Portuguese, and commended by them for an excellent port; but it is very small, has a narrow entrance, and lies open to northerly winds: though indeed there are two ledges of rocks, one shooting out from the west point and the other from the east point, which break off the sea; for the rocks are dry at low water. This place is about 60 leagues from the south-west end of the island. THE HILLS, WATER, LOWLANDS, SOIL, WOODS, METALS, IN THE ISLAND TIMOR. The whole of this island Timor is a very uneven rough country, full of hills and small valleys. In the middle of it there runs a chain of high mountains, almost from one end to the other. It is indifferently well watered (even in the dry times) with small brooks and springs, but no great rivers; the island being but narrow, and such a chain of mountains in the middle that no water can run far; but, as the springs break out on one side or other of the hills, they make their nearest course to the sea. In the wet season the valleys and low lands by the sea are overflown with water; and then the small drills that run into the sea are great rivers; and the gullies, which are dry for 3 or 4 months before, now discharge an impetuous torrent. The low land by the seaside is for the most part friable, loose, sandy soil; yet indifferently fertile and clothed with woods. The mountains are chequered with woods and some spots of savannahs: some of the hills are wholly covered with tall, flourishing trees; others but thinly; and these few trees that are on them, look very small, rusty and withered; and the spots of savannahs among them appear rocky and barren. Many of the mountains are rich in gold, copper, or both: the rains wash the gold out of mountains, which the natives pick up in the adjacent brooks, as the Spaniards do in America: how they get the copper I know not. ITS TREES. The trees that grow naturally here are of divers sorts; many of them wholly unknown to me; but such as I have seen in America or other places, and grow here likewise, are these, namely mangrove, white, red and black; maho, calabash, several sorts of the palm kind: the cotton-trees are not large, but tougher than those in America: here are also locust-trees of 2 or 3 sorts, bearing fruit, but not like those I have formerly seen; these bear a large white blossom, and yield much fruit but, it is not sweet. CANA-FISTULA-TREE DESCRIBED. Cana-fistula-trees are very common here; the tree is about the bigness of our ordinary apple-trees; their branches not thick, nor full of leaves. These and the before-mentioned blossom in October and November; the blossoms are much like our apple-tree blossoms, and about that bigness: at first they are red; but before they fall off, when spread abroad, they are white; so that these trees in their season appear extraordinarily pleasant, and yield a very fragrant smell. When the fruit is ripe it is round, and about the bigness of a man's thumb; of a dark brown colour, inclining to red, and about 2 foot or 2 foot and a half long. We found many of them under the trees, but they had no pulp in them. The partitions in the middle are much at the same distance with those brought to England, of the same substance, and such small flat seed in them: but whether they be the true cana-fistula or no I cannot tell, because I found no black pulp in them. The calabashes here are very prickly: the trees grow tall and tapering; whereas in the West Indies they are low and spread much abroad. Here are also wild tamarind-trees, not as large as the true; though much resembling them both in the bark and leaf. WILD FIGTREES DESCRIBED. Wild fig trees here are many, but not so large as those in America. The fruit grows not on the branches singly like those in America, but in strings and clusters, 40 or 50 in a cluster, about the body and great branches of the tree, from the very root up to the top. These figs are about the bigness of a crab-apple, of a greenish colour, and full of small white seeds; they smell pretty well, but have no juice or taste; they are ripe in November. Here likewise grows sandalwood, and many more sorts of trees fit for any uses. The tallest among them resemble our pines; they are straight and clear-bodied, but not very thick; the inside is reddish near the heart and hard and ponderous. TWO NEW SORTS OF PALMTREES DESCRIBED. Of the palm kind there are 3 or 4 sorts; two of which kinds I have not seen anywhere but here. Both sorts are very large and tall. The first sort had trunks of about 7 or eight foot in circumference and about 80 or 90 foot high. These had branches at the top like coconut-trees, and their fruit like coconuts, but smaller: the nut was of an oval form, and about the bigness of a duck's egg: the shell black and very hard. It was almost full of kernel, having only a small empty space in the middle, but no water as coconuts have. The kernel is too hard to be eaten. The fruit somewhat resembles that in Brazil formerly mentioned. The husk or outside of the fruit was very yellow, soft and pulpy when ripe; and full of small fibres; and when it fell down from the trees would mash and smell unsavoury. The other sort was as big and tall as the former; the body growing straight up without limbs, as all trees of the palm kind do: but, instead of a great many long green branches growing from the head of the tree, these had short branches about the bigness of a man's arm, and about a foot long; each of which spread itself into a great many small tough twigs, that hung full of fruit like so many ropes of onions. The fruit was as big as a large plum; and every tree had several bushels of fruit. The branches that bore this fruit sprouted out at about 50 or 60 foot height from the ground. The trunk of the tree was all of one bigness from the ground to that height; but from thence it went tapering smaller and smaller to the top, where it was no bigger than a man's leg, ending in a stump: and there was no green about the tree but the fruit; so that it appeared like a dead trunk. Besides fruit trees here were many sorts of tall straight-bodied timber-trees; one sort of which was like pine. These grow plentifully all round the island by the seaside, but not far within land. It is hard wood, of a reddish colour, and very ponderous. THE FRUITS OF THE ISLAND. The fruits of this island are guavas, mangoes, jacas, coconuts, plantains, bananas, pineapples, citrons, pomegranates, oranges, lemons, limes, musk-melons, watermelons, pumpkins, etc. Many of these have been brought hither by the Dutch and Portuguese; and most of them are ripe in September and October. There were many other excellent fruits, but not now in season; as I was informed both by the Dutch and Portuguese. THE HERBS. Here I met with an herb which in the West Indies we call calalaloo. It grows wild here. I ate of it several times and found it as pleasant and wholesome as spinach. Here are also parsley, samphire, etc. Indian corn thrives very well here, and is the common food of the islanders; though the Portuguese and their friends sow some rice, but not half enough for their subsistence. ITS LAND ANIMALS. The land animals are buffaloes, beeves, horses, hogs, goats, sheep, monkeys, iguanas, lizards, snakes, scorpions, centumpees, etc. Beside the tame hogs and buffaloes, there are many wild all over the country, which any may freely kill. As for the beeves, horses, goats, and sheep, it is probable they were brought in by the Portuguese or Dutch; especially the beeves; for I saw none but at the Dutch fort Concordia. We also saw monkeys and some snakes. One sort yellow, and as big as a man's arm, and about 4 foot long: another sort no bigger than the stem of a tobacco pipe, about 5 foot long, green all over his body, and with a flat red head as big as a man's thumb. FOWLS. THE RINGING-BIRD. The fowls are wild cocks and hens, eagles, hawks, crows, 2 sorts of pigeons, turtledoves, 3 or 4 sorts of parrots, parakeets, cockatoos, blackbirds; besides a multitude of smaller birds of divers colours, whose charming music makes the woods very pleasant. One sort of these pretty little birds my men called the ringing-bird; because it had 6 notes, and always repeated all his notes twice one after another; beginning high and shrill and ending low. This bird was about the bigness of a lark, having a small sharp black bill and blue wings; the head and breast were of a pale red, and there was a blue streak about its neck. Here are also sea- or waterfowls, as men-of-war-birds, boobies, fishing-hawks, herons, galdens, crab-catchers, etc. The tame fowl are cocks, hens, ducks, geese; the 2 last sorts I only saw at the Dutch fort, of the other sort there are not many but among the Portuguese: the woods abound with bees, which make much honey and wax. ITS FISH. COCKLE MERCHANTS AND OYSTERS. COCKLES AS BIG AS A MAN'S HEAD. The sea is very well stocked with fish of divers sorts, namely mullet, bass, bream, snook, mackerel, parracoots, garfish, ten-pounders, scuttle-fish, stingrays, whiprays, rasperages, cockle-merchants, or oyster-crackers, cavallies, conger-eels, rock-fish, dog-fish, etc. The rays are so plentiful that I never drew the seine but I caught some of them; which we salted and dried. I caught one whose tail was 13 foot long. The cockle-merchants are shaped like cavallies, and about their bigness. They feed on shellfish, having 2 very hard, thick, flat bones in their throat, with which they break in pieces the shells of the fish they swallow. We always find a great many shells in their maws, crushed in pieces. The shellfish are oysters of 3 sorts, namely long-oysters, common oysters, growing upon rocks in great abundance and very flat; and another sort of large oysters, fat and crooked; the shell of this not easily to be distinguished from a stone. Three or four of these roasted will suffice a man for one meal. Cockles, as big as a man's head; of which 2 or 3 are enough for a meal; they are very fat and sweet. Crawfish, shrimps, etc. Here are also many green-turtle, some alligators and grandpisces, etc. ITS ORIGINAL NATIVES DESCRIBED. The original natives of this island are Indians, they are of a middle stature, straight-bodied, slender-limbed, long-visaged; their hair black and lank; their skins very swarthy. They are very dexterous and nimble, but withal lazy in the high degree. They are said to be dull in everything but treachery and barbarity. Their houses are but low and mean, their clothing only a small cloth about their middle; but some of them for ornament have frontlets of mother-of-pearl, or thin pieces of silver or gold, made of an oval form of the breadth of a crown-piece, curiously notched round the edges; five of these placed one by another a little above the eyebrows making a sufficient guard and ornament for their forehead. They are so thin and placed on their foreheads so artificially that they seem reverted thereon: and indeed the pearl-oyster shells make a more splendid show than either silver or gold. Others of them have palmetto-caps made in divers forms. As to their marriages they take as many wives as they can maintain; and sometimes they sell their children to purchase more wives. I enquired about their religion and was told they had none. Their common subsistence is by Indian corn, which every man plants for himself. They take but little pains to clear their land for in the dry time they set fire to the withered grass and shrubs, and that burns them out a plantation for the next wet season. What other grain they have beside Indian corn I know not. Their plantations are very mean; for they delight most in hunting; and here are wild buffaloes and hogs enough, though very shy because of their so frequent hunting. They have a few boats and some fishermen. Their arms are lances, thick round short truncheons and targets; with these they hunt and kill their game and their enemies too; for this island is now divided into many kingdoms, and all of different languages; though in their customs and manner of living, as well as shape and colour, they seem to be of one stock. THE PORTUGUESE AND DUTCH SETTLEMENTS. The chiefest kingdoms are Kupang, Amabia, Lortribie, Pobumbie, Namquimal; the island also of Anamabao, or Anabao, is a kingdom. Each of these has a sultan who is supreme in his province and kingdom, and has under him several rajas and other inferior officers. The sultans for the most part are enemies to each other, which enmities are fomented and kept up by the Dutch, whose fort and factory is in the kingdom of Kupang; and therefore the bay near which they are settled, is commonly called Kupang Bay. They have only as much ground as they can keep within reach of their guns; yet this whole kingdom is at peace with them; and they freely trade together; as also with the islanders on Anabao, who are in amity as well with the natives of Kupang as with the Dutch residing there; but they are implacable enemies to those of Amabie, who are their next neighbours, and in amity with the Portuguese: as are also the kingdoms of Pobumbie, Namquimal and Lortribie. It is very probable that these 2 European settlements on this island are the greatest occasion of their continued wars. The Portuguese vaunt highly of their strength here and that they are able at pleasure to rout the Dutch, if they had authority so to do from the king of Portugal; and they have written to the viceroy of Goa about it: and though their request is not yet granted, yet (as they say) they live in expectation of it. These have no forts but depend on their alliance with the natives: and indeed they are already so mixed that it is hard to distinguish whether they are Portuguese or Indians. Their language is Portuguese; and the religion they have is Romish. They seem in words to acknowledge the king of Portugal for their sovereign; yet they will not accept of any officers sent by him. They speak indifferently the Malayan and their own native languages, as well as Portuguese; and the chiefest officers that I saw were of this sort; neither did I see above 3 or 4 white men among them; and of these 2 were priests. Of this mixed breed there are some thousands; of whom some have small arms of their own, and know how to use them. The chiefest person (as I before said) is called Captain More or Maior: he is a white man, sent hither by the viceroy of Goa, and seems to have great command here. I did not see him; for he seldom comes down. His residence is at a place called Porta Nova; which the people at Laphao told me was a great way off; but I could not get any more particular account. Some told me that he is most commonly in the mountains, with an army of Indians, to guard the passes between them and the Kupangayans, especially in the dry times. The next man to him is Alexis Mendosa: he is a right Indian, speaks very good Portuguese, and is of the Romish religion. He lives 5 or 6 miles from the sea, and is called the lieutenant. (This is he whom I called governor, when at Laphao.) He commands next to Captain More, and has under him another at this fort (at the seaside) if it may be so-called. He also is called lieutenant and is an Indian Portuguese. Besides this mongrel breed of Indians and Portuguese here are also some Chinamen, merchants from Macao: they bring hither coarse rice, gold, tea, iron-work, porcelain, and silk both wrought and raw: they get in exchange pure gold as it is here gathered, beeswax, sandalwood, coir, etc. It is said there are about 20 small China vessels come hither every year from Macao; and commonly one vessel a year from Goa, which brings European commodities and calicos, muslins, etc. Here are likewise some small barks belonging to this place, that trade to Batavia, and bring from thence both European and Indian goods and rice. The vessels generally come here in March and stay till September. The Dutch as I before said are settled in the kingdom of Kupang, where they have a small neat stone fort. It seems to be pretty strong; yet, as I was informed, had been taken by a French pirate about 2 years ago: the Dutch were used very barbarously, and ever since are very jealous of any strangers that come this way; which I myself experienced. These depend more on their own strength than on the natives their friends; having good guns, powder, and shot enough on all occasions, and soldiers sufficient to manage the business here, all well disciplined and in good order; which is a thing the Portuguese their neighbours are altogether destitute of, they having no European soldiers, few arms, less ammunition, and their fort consisting of no more than 6 bad guns planted against the sea, whose touch-holes (as was before observed) are so enlarged by time that a great part of the strength of the powder flies away there; and, having soldiers in pay, the natives on all occasions are hired; and their government now is so loose that they will admit of no more officers from Portugal or Goa. They have also little or no supply of arms or ammunition from thence, but buy it as often as they can of the Dutch, Chinese, etc., so that upon the whole it seems improbable that they should ever attempt to drive out the Dutch for fear of loosing themselves, notwithstanding their bosomed prowess and alliance with the natives: and indeed, as far as I could hear, they have business enough to keep their own present territories from the incursions of the Kupangayans; who are friends to the Dutch, and whom doubtless the Dutch have ways enough to preserve in their friendship; besides that they have an inveterate malice to their neighbours, insomuch that they kill all they meet, and bring away their heads in triumph. The great men of Kupang stick the heads of those they have killed on poles; and set them on the tops of their houses; and these they esteem above all their other riches. The inferior sort bring the heads of those they kill into houses made for that purpose; of which there was one at the Indian village near the fort Concordia, almost full of heads, as I was told. I know not what encouragement they have for their inhumanity. THE MALAYAN LANGUAGE GENERALLY SPOKEN HERE. The Dutch have always 2 sloops belonging to their fort; in these they go about the island and trade with the natives and, as far as I could learn, they trade indifferently with them all. For though the inland people are at war with each other, yet those by the seaside seem to be little concerned; and, generally speaking the Malayan language, are very sociable and easily induced to trade with those that speak that language; which the Dutch here always learn; besides, being well acquainted with the treachery of these people, they go well armed among them, and are very vigilant never to give them an opportunity to hurt them; and it is very probable that they supply them with such goods as the Portuguese cannot. LORANTUCA ON THE ISLAND ENDE. The Malayan language, as I have before said, is generally spoken amongst all the islands hereabouts. The greater the trade is the more this language is spoken: in some it is become their only language; in others it is but little spoken, and that by the seaside only. With this language the Mahomedan religion did spread itself, and was got hither before any European Christians came: but now, though the language is still used, the Mahomedan religion falls, wherever the Portuguese or Dutch are settled; unless they be very weak, as at Solor and Ende, where the chief language is Malayan, and the religion Mahomedanism; though the Dutch are settled at Solor, and the Portuguese at the east end of the island Ende, at a place called Lorantuca; which, as I was informed, is a large town, has a pretty strong fort and safe harbour. The chief man there (as at Timor) is called Captain More, and is as absolute as the other. These 2 principal men are enemies to each other; and by their letters and messages to Goa inveigh bitterly against each other; and are ready to do all the ill offices they can; yet neither of them much regards the viceroy of Goa, as I was informed. Lorantuca is said to be more populous than any town on Timor; the island Ende affording greater plenty of all manner of fruit, and being much better supplied with all necessaries than Laphao; especially with sheep, goats, hogs, poultry, etc. But it is very dangerous getting into this harbour because of the violent tides between the islands Ende and Solor. In the middle channel between Timor and the range of islands to the northward of it, whereof Ende and Solor are 2, there runs a constant current all the year to the westward; though near either shore there are tides indeed; but the tide of flood, which sets west, running 8 or 9 hours, and the ebb not exceeding 3 or 4 hours, the tide in some places rises 9 or 10 foot on a spring. THE SEASONS, WINDS, AND WEATHER AT TIMOR. The seasons of the year here at Timor are much the same as in other places in south latitude. The fair weather begins in April or May and continues to October, then the tornadoes begin to come, but no violent bad weather till the middle of December. Then there are violent west or north-west winds, with rain, till towards the middle of February. In May the southerly winds set in and blow very strong on the north side of the island, but fair. There is great difference of winds on the 2 sides of the island: for the southerly winds are but very faint on the south side, and very hard on the north side; and the bad weather on the south side comes in very violent in October, which on the north side comes not till December. You have very good sea and land breezes, when the weather is fair; and may run indifferently to the east or west, as your business lies. We found from September to December the winds veering all round the compass gradually in 24 hours time; but such a constant western current that it is much harder getting to the east than west at or near spring tides: which I have more than once made trial of. For weighing from Babao at 6 o'clock in the morning on the 12 instant we kept plying under the shore till the 20th, meeting with such a western current that we gained very little. We had land and seabreezes; but so faint that we could hardly stem the current; and when it was calm between the breezes we drove a-stern faster than ever we sailed ahead. CHAPTER 3. PLYING ON THE NEW GUINEA COAST. DEPARTURE FROM TIMOR. On the 12th of December 1699 we sailed from Babao, coasting along the island Timor to the eastward towards New Guinea. It was the 20th before we got as far as Laphao, which is but forty leagues. We saw black clouds in the north-west and expected the wind from that quarter above a month sooner. THE ISLANDS OMBA AND FETTER. That afternoon we saw the opening between the islands Omba and Fetter, but feared to pass through in the night. At two o'clock in the morning it fell calm; and continued so till noon, in which time we drove with the current back again south-west six or seven leagues. On the 22nd, steering to the eastward to get through between Omba and Fetter, we met a very strong tide against us, so that we, although we had a very fresh gale, yet made way very slowly; yet before night got through. By a good observation we found that the south-east point of Omba lies in latitude 8 degrees 25 minutes. In my charts it is laid down in 8 degrees 10 minutes. My true course from Babao is east 25 degrees north, distance one hundred and eighty-three miles. We sounded several times when near Omba, but had no ground. On the north-east point of Omba we saw four or five men, and a little further three pretty houses on a low point, but did not go ashore. At five this afternoon we had a tornado which yielded much rain, thunder and lightning; yet we had but little wind. The 24th in the morning we caught a large shark, which gave all the ship's company a plentiful meal. A BURNING ISLAND. The 27th we saw the burning island, it lies in latitude 6 degrees 36 minutes south; it is high and but small. It runs from the sea a little sloping towards the top; which is divided in the middle into two peaks, between which issued out much smoke: I have not seen more from any volcano. I saw no trees; but the north side appeared green, and the rest looked very barren. THEIR MISSING THE TURTLE ISLES. Having passed the burning island I shaped my course for two islands called Turtle Isles which lie north-east by east a little easterly, and distant about fifty leagues from the burning isle. I, fearing the wind might veer to the eastward of the north, steered 20 leagues north-east, then north-east by east. On the 28th we saw two small low islands called Luca Paros, to the north of us. At noon I accounted myself 20 leagues short of the Turtle Isles. BANDA ISLES. The next morning, being in the latitude of the Turtle Islands, we looked out sharp for them but saw no appearance of any island till 11 o'clock; when we saw an island at a great distance. At first we supposed it might be one of the Turtle Isles: but it was not laid down true, neither in latitude nor longitude from the burning isle, nor from the Luca Paros, which last I took to be a great help to guide me, they being laid down very well from the burning isle, and that likewise in true latitude and distance from Omba: so that I could not tell what to think of the island now in sight; we having had fair weather, so that we could not pass by the Turtle Isles without seeing them; and this in sight was much too far off for them. We found variation 1 degree 2 minutes east. In the afternoon I steered north-east by east for the islands that we saw. At 2 o'clock I went and looked over the fore-yard, and saw 2 islands at much greater distance than the Turtle Islands are laid down in my charts; one of them was a very high peaked mountain, cleft at top, and much like the burning island that we passed by, but bigger and higher; the other was a pretty long high flat island. Now I was certain that these were not the Turtle Islands, and that they could be no other than the Banda Isles; yet we steered in to make them plainer. At 3 o'clock we discovered another small flat island to the north-west of the others, and saw a great deal of smoke rise from the top of the high island; at 4 we saw other small islands, by which I was now assured that these were the Banda Isles there. At 5 I altered my course and steered east, and at 8 east-south-east; because I would not be seen by the inhabitants of those islands in the morning. BIRD ISLAND. We had little wind all night: and in the morning as soon as it was light we saw another high peaked island: at 8 it bore south-south-east half east, distance 8 leagues. And this I knew to be Bird Isle. It is laid down in our charts in latitude 5 degrees 9 minutes south, which is too far southerly by 27 miles according to our observation; and the like error in laying down the Turtle Islands might be the occasion of our missing them. At night I shortened sail for fear of coming too nigh some islands that stretch away bending like a half moon from Ceram towards Timor, and which in my course I must of necessity pass through. The next morning betimes I saw them; and found them to be at a farther distance from Bird Island than I expected. In the afternoon it fell quite calm; and when we had a little wind it was so unconstant, flying from one point to another, that I could not without difficulty get through the islands where I designed: besides I found a current setting to the southward; so that it was betwixt 5 and 6 in the evening before I passed through the islands; and then just weathered little Waiela, whereas I thought to have been 2 or 3 leagues more northerly. We saw the day before, betwixt 2 and 3, a spout but a small distance from us. It fell down out of a black cloud that yielded great store of rain, thunder, and lightning: this cloud hovered to the southward of us for the space of three hours, and then drew to the westward a great pace; at which time it was that we saw the spout, which hung fast to the cloud till it broke; and then the cloud whirled about to the south-east, then to east-north-east; where, meeting with an island, it spent itself and so dispersed; and immediately we had a little of the tail of it, having had none before. Afterward we saw a smoke on the island Kosiway, which continued all night. 1700. THEY DESCRY THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA. On New Year's Day we first descried the land of New Guinea, which appeared to be high land; and the next day we saw several high islands on the coast of New Guinea, and ran in with the mainland. The shore here lies along east-south-east and west-north-west. It is high even land, very well clothed with tall flourishing trees, which appeared very green and gave us a very pleasant prospect. We ran to the westward of four mountainous islands; and in the night had a small tornado, which brought with it some rain and a fair wind. We had fair weather for a long time; only when near any land we had some tornadoes; but off at sea commonly clear weather; though if in sight of land we usually saw many black clouds hovering about it. THEY ANCHOR ON THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA. On the 5th and 6th of January we plied to get in with the land; designing to anchor, fill water, and spend a little time in searching the country, till after the change of the moon; for I found a strong current setting against us. We anchored in 38 fathom water, good oazie ground. We had an island of a league long without us, about 3 miles distant; and we rode from the main about a mile. The easternmost point of land seen bore east by south half south, distance 3 leagues: and the westernmost west-south-west half south, distance 2 leagues. So soon as we anchored we sent the pinnace to look for water, and try if they could catch any fish. Afterwards we sent the yawl another way to see for water. Before night the pinnace brought on board several sorts of fruits that they found in the woods, such as I never saw before. A DESCRIPTION OF THE PLACE, AND OF A STRANGE FOWL FOUND THERE. One of my men killed a stately land-fowl, as big as the largest dunghill-cock. It was of a sky-colour; only in the middle of the wings was a white spot, about which were some reddish spots: on the crown it had a large bunch of long feathers, which appeared very pretty. His bill was like a pigeon's; he had strong legs and feet, like dunghill-fowls; only the claws were reddish. His crop was full of small berries. It lays an egg as big as a large hen's egg; for our men climbed the tree where it nested and brought off one egg. They found water; and reported that the trees were large, tall and very thick; and that they saw no sign of people. At night the yawl came aboard and brought a wooden fishgig, very ingeniously made; the matter of it was a small cane; they found it by a small barbecue, where they also saw a shattered canoe. GREAT QUANTITIES OF MACKEREL. The next morning I sent the boatswain ashore a-fishing and at one haul he caught 352 mackerels and about 20 other fishes; which I caused to be equally divided among all my company. I sent also the gunner and chief mate to search about if they could find convenient anchoring nearer a watering-place: by night they brought word that they had found a fine stream of good water, where the boat could come close to and it was very easy to be filled; and that the ship might anchor as near to it as I pleased: so I went thither. The next morning therefore we anchored in 25 fathom water, soft oazie ground, about a mile from the river: we got on board 3 tun of water that night; and caught 2 or 3 pike-fish, in shape much like a parracota, but with a longer snout, something resembling a gar, yet not so long. The next day I sent the boat again for water and before night all my casks were full. A WHITE ISLAND. Having filled here about 15 tuns of water, seeing we could catch but little fish, and had no other refreshments, I intended to sail next day; but finding that we wanted wood I sent to cut some; and going ashore to hasten it, at some distance from the place where our men were, I found a small cove where I saw two barbecues, which appeared not to be above 2 months standing: the spars were cut with some sharp instrument; so that, if done by the natives, it seems that they have iron. On the 10th, a little after 12 o'clock, we weighed and stood over to the north side of the bay; and at 1 o'clock stood out with the wind at north and north-north-west. At 4 we passed out by a White Island, which I so named from its many white cliffs, having no name in our charts. It is about a league long, pretty high, and very woody: it is about 5 miles from the main, only at the west end it reaches within 3 miles of it. At some distance off at sea the west point appears like a cape land; the north side trends away north-north-west, and the east side east-south-east. This island lies in latitude 3 degrees 4 minutes south; and the meridian distance from Babao, 500 and 12 miles east. After we were out to sea we plied to get to the northward; but met with such a strong current against us that we got but little. For if the wind favoured us in the night, that we got 3 or 4 leagues; we lost it again and were driven as far astern next morning, so that we plied here several days. The 14th, being past a point of land that we had been 3 days getting about, we found little or no current; so that, having the wind at north-west by west and west-north-west, we stood to the northward, and had several soundings: at 3 o'clock, 38 fathom; the nearest part of New Guinea being about 3 leagues distance: at 4, 37; at 5, 36; at 6, 36; at 8, 33 fathom; then the cape was about 4 leagues distant; so that as we ran off we found our water shallower. We had then some islands to the westward of us, at about four leagues distance. THEY ANCHOR AT AN ISLAND CALLED BY THE INHABITANTS PULO SABUDA. A DESCRIPTION OF IT AND ITS INHABITANTS AND PRODUCT. A little after noon we saw smokes on the islands to the west of us; and, having a fine gale of wind, I steered away for them: at 7 o'clock in the evening we anchored in 35 fathom, about two leagues from an island, good soft oazie ground. We lay still all night, and saw fires ashore. In the morning we weighed again, and ran farther in, thinking to have shallower water; but we ran within a mile of the shore, and came to in 38 fathom, good soft holding ground. While we were under sail 2 canoes came off within call of us: they spoke to us, but we did not understand their language, nor signs. We waved to them to come aboard, and I called to them in the Malayan language to do the same; but they would not; yet they came so nigh us that we could show them such things as we had to truck with them; yet neither would this entice them to come aboard; but they made signs for us to come ashore, and away they went. Then I went after them in my pinnace, carrying with me knives, beads, glasses, hatchets, etc. When we came near the shore I called to them in the Malayan language: I saw but 2 men at first, the rest lying in ambush behind the bushes; but as soon as I threw ashore some knives and other toys they came out, flung down their weapons, and came into the water by the boat's side, making signs of friendship by pouring water on their heads with one hand which they dipped into the sea. The next day in the afternoon several other canoes came aboard and brought many roots and fruits, which we purchased. This island has no name in our charts but the natives call it Pulo Sabuda. It is about 3 leagues long and 2 miles wide, more or less. It is of a good height so as to be seen 11 or 12 leagues. It is very rocky; yet above the rocks there is good yellow and black mould; not deep yet producing plenty of good tall trees, and bearing any fruits or roots which the inhabitants plant. I do not know all its produce; but what we saw were plantains, coconuts, pineapples, oranges, papaws, potatoes, and other large roots. Here are also another sort of wild jacas, about the bigness of a man's two fists, full of stones or kernels, which eat pleasant enough when roasted. The libby-tree grows here in the swampy valleys, of which they make sago cakes: I did not see them make any but was told by the inhabitants that it was made of the pith of the tree in the same manner I have described in my Voyage round the World. They showed me the tree whereof it was made, and I bought about 40 of the cakes. I bought also 3 or 4 nutmegs in their shell, which did not seem to have been long gathered; but, whether they be the growth of this island or not, the natives would not tell whence they had them, and seemed to prize them very much. What beasts the island affords I know not: but here are both sea- and land-fowl. Of the first boobies and men-of-war-birds are the chief; some galdens, and small milk-white crab-catchers. The land-fowls are pigeons, about the bigness of mountain-pigeons in Jamaica; and crows about the bigness of those in England, and much like them; but the inner part of their feathers are white, and the outside black; so that they appear all black, unless you extend the feathers. Here are large sky-coloured birds, such as we lately killed on New Guinea; and many other small birds unknown to us. Here are likewise abundance of bats, as big as young coneys; their necks, head, ears and noses, like foxes; their hair rough; that about their necks is of a whitish yellow, that on their heads and shoulders black; their wings are 4 foot over from tip to tip: they smell like foxes. The fish are bass, rock-fish, and a sort of fish like mullet, old-wives, whip-rays, and some other sorts that I know not, but no great plenty of any; for it is deep water till within less than a mile of the shore; then there is a bank of coral rocks within which you have shoal water, white clean sand: so there is no good fishing with the seine. This island lies in latitude 2 degrees 43 minutes south and meridian distance from Port Babao on the island Timor 486 miles. Besides this island here are 9 or 10 other small islands, as they are laid down in the charts. The inhabitants of this island are a sort of very tawny Indians, with long black hair; who in their manners differ but little from the Mindanayans, and others of these eastern islands. These seem to be the chief; for besides them we saw also shock curl-pated New Guinea negroes; many of which are slaves to the others, but I think not all. They are very poor, wear no clothes, but have a clout about their middle, made of the rinds of the tops of palmetto-trees; but the women had a sort of calico cloths. Their chief ornaments are blue and yellow beads, worn about their wrists. The men arm themselves with bows and arrows, lances, broad swords like those of Mindanao; their lances are pointed with bone. THE INDIANS' MANNER OF FISHING THERE. They strike fish very ingeniously with wooden fishgigs, and have a very ingenious way of making the fish rise: for they have a piece of wood, curiously carved and painted much like a dolphin (and perhaps other figures) these they let down into the water by a line with a small weight to sink it; when they think it low enough they haul the line into their boats very fast, and the fish rise up after this figure; and they stand ready to strike them when they are near the surface of the water. But their chief livelihood is from their plantations. Yet they have large boats, and go over to New Guinea where they get slaves, fine parrots, etc., which they carry to Goram and exchange for calicos. One boat came from thence a little before I arrived here; of whom I bought some parrots; and would have bought a slave but they would not barter for anything but calicos, which I had not. Their houses on this side were very small, and seemed only to be for necessity; but on the other side of the island we saw good large houses. Their proas are narrow with outlagers on each side, like other Malayans. I cannot tell of what religion these are; but I think they are not Mahomedans, by their drinking brandy out of the same cup with us without any scruple. At this island we continued till the 20th instant, having laid in store of such roots and fruits as the island afforded. On the 20th at half hour after 6 in the morning I weighed and, standing out, we saw a large boat full of men lying at the north point of the island. As we passed by they rowed towards their habitations, where we supposed they had withdrawn themselves for fear of us (though we gave them no cause of terror) or for some differences among themselves. We stood to the northward till 7 in the evening; then saw a rippling; and, the water being discoloured, we sounded, and had but 22 fathom. I went about and stood to the westward till 2 next morning, then tacked again and had these several soundings: at 8 in the evening, 22; at 10, 25; at 11, 27; at 12, 28 fathom; at 2 in the morning 26; at 4, 24; at 6, 23; at 8, 28; at 12, 22. ARRIVAL AT MABO, THE NORTH-WEST CAPE OF NEW GUINEA. A DESCRIPTION OF IT. We passed by many small islands and among many dangerous shoals without any remarkable occurrence till the 4th of February, when we got within 3 leagues of the north-west cape of New Guinea, called by the Dutch Cape Mabo. Off this cape there lies a small woody island, and many islands of different sizes to the north and north-east of it. This part of New Guinea is high land, adorned with tall trees that appeared very green and flourishing. The cape itself is not very high, but ends in a low sharp point; and on either side there appears another such point at equal distances, which makes it resemble a diamond. This only appears when you are abreast of the middle point; and then you have no ground within 3 leagues of the shore. COCKLE ISLAND. In the afternoon we passed by the cape and stood over for the islands. Before it was dark we were got within a league of the westermost; but had no ground with 50 fathom of line. However, fearing to stand nearer in the dark, we tacked and stood to the east, and plied all night. The next morning we were got 5 or 6 leagues to the eastward of that island; and, having the wind easterly, we stood in to the northward among the islands, sounded, and had no ground. Then I sent in my boat to sound, and they had ground with 50 fathom near a mile from the shore. We tacked before the boat came aboard again for fear of a shoal that was about a mile to the east of that island the boat went to; from whence also a shoal point stretched out itself till it met the other: they brought with them such a cockle as I have mentioned in my Voyage round the World, found near Celebes; and they saw many more, some bigger than that which they brought aboard, as they said; and for this reason I named it Cockle Island. I sent them to sound again, ordering them to fire a musket if they found good anchoring; we were then standing to the southward, with a fine breeze. As soon as they fired I tacked and stood in: they told me they had 50 fathom when they fired. I tacked again, and made all the sail I could to get out, being near some rocky islands and shoals to leeward of us. The breeze increased, and I thought we were out of danger; but, having a shoal just by us, and the wind falling again, I ordered the boat to tow us, and by their help we got clear from it. We had a strong tide setting to the westward. COCKLES OF SEVENTY-EIGHT POUND WEIGHT. At 1 o'clock, being past the shoal and finding the tide setting to the westward, I anchored in 35 fathom, coarse sand with small coral and shells. Being nearest to Cockle Island I immediately sent both the boats thither; one to cut wood, and the other to fish. At 4 in the afternoon, having a small breeze at south-south-west, I made a sign for my boats to come aboard. They brought some wood and a few small cockles, none of them exceeding 10 pound weight; whereas the shell of the great one weighed 78 pound; but it was now high-water and therefore they could get no bigger. They also brought on board some pigeons, of which we found plenty on all the islands where we touched in these seas. Also in many places we saw many large bats, but killed none, except those I mentioned at Pulo Sabuda. As our boats came aboard we weighed and made sail, steering east-south-east as long as the wind held; in the morning we found we had got 4 or 5 leagues to the east of the place where we weighed. We stood to and fro till 11; and, finding that we lost ground, anchored in 42 fathom, coarse gravelly sand with some coral. This morning we thought we saw a sail. PIGEON ISLAND. In the afternoon I went ashore on a small woody island about 2 leagues from us. Here I found the greatest number of pigeons that ever I saw either in the east or West Indies, and small cockles in the sea round the island in such quantities that we might have laden the boat in an hour's time: these were not above 10 or 12 pound weight. We cut some wood and brought off cockles enough for all the ship's company; but having no small shot we could kill no pigeons. I returned about 4 o'clock; and then my gunner and both mates went thither, and in less than three-quarters of an hour they killed and brought off 10 pigeons. Here is a tide: the flood sets west and the ebb east; but the latter is very faint and but of small continuance. And so we found it ever since we came from Timor. THE WIND HEREABOUTS. The winds we found easterly, between north-east and east-south-east; so that, if these continue, it is impossible to beat farther to the eastward on this coast against wind and current. These easterly winds increased from the time we were in the latitude of about 2 degrees south; and as we drew nigher the Line they hung more easterly. And now, being to the north of the continent of New Guinea where the coast lies east and west, I find the tradewind here at east; which yet in higher latitudes is usually at north-north-west and north-west; and so I did expect them here, it being to the south of the Line. AN EMPTY COCKLESHELL WEIGHING TWO HUNDRED FIFTY-EIGHT POUND. The 7th in the morning I sent my boat ashore on Pigeon Island and stayed till noon. In the afternoon my men returned, brought 22 pigeons, and many cockles, some very large, some small: they also brought one empty shell that weighed 258 pound. KING WILLIAM'S ISLAND. A DESCRIPTION OF IT. At 4 o'clock we weighed, having a small westerly wind and a tide with us; at 7 in the evening we anchored in 42 fathom, near King William's Island, where I went ashore the next morning, drank His Majesty's health, and honoured it with his name. It is about 2 leagues and a half in length, very high, and extraordinarily well clothed with woods. The trees are of divers sorts, most unknown to us, but all very green and flourishing; many of them had flowers, some white, some purple, others yellow; all which smelt very fragrantly. The trees are generally tall and straight-bodied, and may be fit for any uses. I saw one of a clean body, without knot or limb, 60 are 70 foot high by estimation. It was 3 of my fathoms about, and kept its bigness without any sensible decrease even to the top. The mould of the island is black but not deep; it being very rocky. On the sides and top of the island are many palmetto-trees whose heads we could discern over all the other trees, but their bodies we could not see. About 1 in the afternoon we weighed and stood to the eastward, between the main and King William's Island; leaving the island on our larboard side and sounding till we were past the island; and then we had no ground. Here we found the flood setting east by north, and the ebb west by south. There were shoals and small islands between us and the main, which caused the tide to set very inconstantly, and make many whirlings in the water; yet we did not find the tide to set strong any way, nor the water to rise much. PLYING ON THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA. On the 9th, being to the eastward of King William's Island, we plied all day between the main and other islands, having easterly winds and fair weather till 7 the next morning. Then we had very hard rain till 8 and saw many shoals of fish. We lay becalmed off a pretty deep bay on New Guinea, about 12 or 14 leagues wide and 7 or 8 leagues deep, having low land near its bottom, but high land without. The eastermost part of New Guinea seen bore east by south, distant 12 leagues: Cape Mabo west-south-west half south, distant 7 leagues. At 1 in the afternoon it began to rain and continued till 6 in the evening; so that, having but little wind and most calms, we lay still off the forementioned bay, having King William's Island still in sight, though distant by judgment 15 or 16 leagues west. We saw many shoals of small fish, some sharks, and 7 or 8 dolphins; but caught none. In the afternoon, being about 4 leagues from the shore, we saw an opening in the land which seemed to afford good harbour: in the evening we saw a large fire there; and I intended to go in (if winds and weather would permit) to get some acquaintance with the natives. Since the 4th instant that we passed Cape Mabo to the 12th we had small easterly winds and calms, so that we anchored several times; where I made my men cut wood, that we might have a good stock when a westerly wind should present; and so we plied to the eastward, as winds and currents would permit; having not got in all above 30 leagues to the eastward of Cape Mabo. But on the 12th, at 4 in the afternoon, a small gale sprang up at north-east by north with rain: at 5 it shuffled about to north-west, from thence to the south-west, and continued between those 2 points a pretty brisk gale; so that we made sail and steered away north-east, till the 13th in the morning, to get about the Cape of Good Hope. When it was day we steered north-east half east, then north-east by east till 7 o'clock; and being then 7 or 8 leagues off shore we steered away east; the shore trending east by south. We had very much rain all night, so that we could not carry much sail; yet we had a very steady gale. At 8 this morning the weather cleared up and the wind decreased to a fine top-gallant gale, and settled at west by south. We had more rain these 3 days past than all the voyage in so short time. We were now about 6 leagues from the land of New Guinea, which appeared very high; and we saw 2 headlands, about 20 leagues asunder; the one to the east, and the other to the west, which last is called the Cape of Good Hope. We found variation east 4 degrees. FAULT OF THE CHARTS. The 15th in the morning between 12 and 2 o'clock it blew a very brisk gale at north-west and looked very black in the south-west. At 2 it flew about at once to the south-south-west and rained very hard. The wind settled some time at west-south-west, and we steered east-north-east till 3 in the morning: then, the wind and rain abating, we steered east half north for fear of coming near the land. Presently after, it being a little clear, the man at the bowsprit-end called out, "Land on our starboard bow." We looked out and saw it plain. I presently sounded and had but 10 fathom soft ground. The master, being somewhat scared, came running in haste with this news, and said it was best to anchor: I told him no, but sound again; then we had 12 fathom; the next cast, 13 and a half; the 4th, 17 fathom; and then no ground with 50 fathom line. However we kept off the island and did not go so fast but that we could see any other danger before we came nigh it. For here might have been more islands not laid down in my charts besides this. For I searched all the charts I had, if perchance I might find any island in the one which was not in the others; but I could find none near us. When it was day we were about 5 leagues off the land we saw; but, I believe, not above 5 mile, or at most 2 leagues, off it when we first saw it in the night. PROVIDENCE ISLAND. This is a small island but pretty high; I named it Providence. About 5 leagues to the southward of this there is another island which is called William Schouten's Island and laid down in our charts: it is a high island and about 20 leagues long. It was by mere Providence that we missed the small island. For had not the wind come to west-south-west and blown hard, so that we steered east-north-east, we had been upon it by our course that we steered before, if we could not have seen it. This morning we saw many great trees and logs swim by us; which it is probable came out of some great rivers on the main. THEY CROSS THE LINE. On the 16th we crossed the Line, and found variation 6 degrees 26 minutes east. The 18th by my observation at noon we found that we had had a current setting to the southward, and probably that drew us in so nigh Schouten's Island. For this 24 hours we steered east by north with a large wind, yet made but an east by south half south course; though the variation was not above 7 degrees east. The 21st we had a current setting to the northward, which is against the true trade monsoon, it being now near the full moon. I did expect it here, as in all other places. We had variation 8 degrees 45 minutes east. The 22nd we found but little current; if any, it set to the southward. A SNAKE PURSUED BY FISH. On the 23rd in the afternoon we saw 2 snakes; and the next morning another, passing by us, which was furiously assaulted by 2 fishes that had kept us company 5 or 6 days. They were shaped like mackerel and were about that bigness and length, and of a yellow-greenish colour. The snake swam away from them very fast, keeping his head above water; the fish snapped at his tail; but when he turned himself that fish would withdraw, and another would snap; so that by turns they kept him employed; yet he still defended himself and swam away a great pace till they were out of sight. The 25th betimes in the morning we saw an island to the southward of us at about 15 leagues distance. We steered away for it, supposing it to be that which the Dutch call Wishart's Island; but, finding it otherwise, I called it Matthias; it being that saint's day. This island is about 9 or 10 leagues long, mountainous and woody, with many savannahs, and some spots of land which seemed to be cleared. SQUALLY ISLAND. At 8 in the evening we lay by, intending, if I could, to anchor under Matthias Isle. But the next morning, seeing another island about 7 or 8 leagues to the eastward of it, we steered away for it; at noon we came up fair with its south-west end, intending to run along by it and anchor on the south-east side: but the tornadoes came in so thick and hard that I could not venture in. This island is pretty low and plain, and clothed with wood; the trees were very green, and appeared to be large and tall, as thick as they could stand one by another. It is about 2 or 3 leagues long, and at the south-west point there is another small low woody island about a mile round, and about a mile from the other. Between them there runs a reef of rocks which joins them. (The biggest I named Squally Island.) THE MAIN OF NEW GUINEA. Seeing we could not anchor here I stood away to the southward to make the main. But, having many hard squalls and tornadoes, we were often forced to hand all our sails and steer more easterly to go before it. On the 26th at 4 o'clock it cleared up to a hard sky, and a brisk settled gale; then we made as much sail as we could. At 5 it cleared up over the land and we saw, as we thought, Cape Solomaswer bearing south-south-east distance 10 leagues. We had many great logs and trees swimming by us all this afternoon, and much grass; we steered in south-south-east till 6, then the wind slackened and we stood off till 7, having little wind; then we lay by till 10, at which time we made sail and steered away east all night. The next morning, as soon as it was light, we made all the sail we could, and steered away east-south-east, as the land lay; being fair in sight of it, and not above 7 leagues distance. We passed by many small low woody islands which lay between us and the main, not laid down in our charts. We found variation 9 degrees 50 minutes east. The 28th we had many violent tornadoes, wind, rain, and some spouts; and in the tornadoes the wind shifted. In the night we had fair weather, but more lightning than we had seen at any time this voyage. This morning we left a large high island on our larboard side, called in the Dutch charts Wishart's Isle, about 6 leagues from the main; and, seeing many smokes upon the main, I therefore steered towards it. CHAPTER 4. NEW BRITAIN DISCOVERED. THE MAINLAND OF NEW GUINEA. ITS INHABITANTS. SLINGERS BAY. The mainland at this place is high and mountainous, adorned with tall flourishing trees; the sides of the hills had many large plantations and patches of cleared land; which, together with the smokes we saw, were certain signs of its being well inhabited; and I was desirous to have some commerce with the inhabitants. Being nigh the shore we saw first one proa; a little after, 2 or 3 more; and at last a great many boats came from all the adjacent bays. When they were 46 in number they approached so near us that we could see each other's signs, and hear each other speak; though we could not understand them, nor they us. They made signs for us to go in towards the shore, pointing that way; it was squally weather, which at first made me cautious of going too near; but, the weather beginning to look pretty well, I endeavoured to get into a bay ahead of us, which we could have got into well enough at first; but while we lay by we were driven so far to leeward that now it was more difficult to get in. The natives lay in their proas round us; to whom I showed beads, knives, glasses, to allure them to come nearer; but they would come so nigh as to receive anything from us. Therefore I threw out some things to them, namely a knife fastened to a piece of board, and a glass bottle corked up with some beads in it, which they took up and seemed well pleased. They often struck their left breast with their right hand, and as often held up a black truncheon over their heads, which we thought was a token of friendship; wherefore we did the like. And when we stood in towards their shore they seemed to rejoice; but when we stood off they frowned, yet kept us company in their proas, still pointing to the shore. About 5 o'clock we got within the mouth of the bay and sounded several times, but had no ground though within a mile of the shore. The basin of this bay was above 2 miles within us, into which we might have gone; but, as I was not assured of anchorage there, so I thought it not prudence to run in at this time; it being near night and seeing a black tornado rising in the west, which I most feared: besides we had near 200 men in proas close by us. And the bays on the shore were lined with men from one end to the other, where there could not be less than 3 or 400 more. What weapons they had we know not, nor yet their design. Therefore I had, at their first coming near us, got up all our small arms, and made several put on cartouch boxes to prevent treachery. At last I resolved to go out again: which, when the natives in their proas perceived, they began to fling stones at us as fast as they could, being provided with engines for that purpose (wherefore I named this place Slingers Bay). But at the firing of one gun they were all amazed, drew off and flung no more stones. They got together as if consulting what to do; for they did not make in towards the shore, but lay still, though some of them were killed or wounded; and many of them had paid for their boldness, but that it was unwilling to cut off any of them; which, if I had done, I could not hope afterwards to bring them to treat with me. SMALL ISLANDS. The next day we sailed close by an island where we saw many smokes, and men in the bays; out of which came 2 canoes, taking much pains to overtake us, but they could not, though we went with an easy sail; and I could not now stay for them. As I passed by the south-east point I sounded several times within a mile of the sandy bays, but had no ground: about 3 leagues to the northward of the south-east point we opened a large deep bay, secured from west-north-west and south-west winds. There were 2 other islands that lay to the north-east of it which secured the bay from north-east winds; one was but small, yet woody; the other was a league long, inhabited and full of coconut-trees. I endeavoured to get into this bay; but there came such flaws off from the high land over it that I could not; besides we had many hard squalls which deterred me from it; and, night coming on, I would not run any hazard, but bore away to the small inhabited island to see if we could get anchoring on the east side of it. When we came there we found the island so narrow that there could be no shelter; therefore I tacked and stood towards the greater island again: and, being more than midway between both, I lay by, designing to endeavour for anchorage next morning. Between 7 and 8 at night we spied a canoe close by us; and, seeing no more, suffered her to come aboard. She had 3 men in her who brought off 5 coconuts, for which I gave each of them a knife and a string of beads to encourage them to come off again in the morning: but before these went away we saw 2 more canoes coming; therefore we stood away to the northward from them and then lay by again till day. We saw no more boats this night; neither designed to suffer any to come aboard in the dark. By nine o'clock the next morning we were got within a league of the great island, but were kept off by violent gusts of wind. These squalls gave us warning of their approach by the clouds which hung over the mountains, and afterwards descended to the foot of them; and then it is we expect them speedily. GERRIT DENNIS ISLE DESCRIBED. On the 3rd of March, being about 5 leagues to leeward of the great island, we saw the mainland ahead; and another great high island to leeward of us, distance about 7 leagues; which we bore away for. It is called in the Dutch charts Gerrit Denis Isle. It is about 14 or 15 leagues round; high and mountainous, and very woody: some trees appeared very large and tall; and the bays by the seaside are well stored with coconut-trees; where we also saw some small houses. The sides of the mountains are thick set with plantations; and the mould in the new cleared land seemed to be of a brown-reddish colour. This island is of no regular figure, but is full of points shooting forth into the sea; between which are many sandy bays, full of coconut-trees. The middle of the isle lies in 3 degrees 10 minutes south latitude. ITS INHABITANTS. It is very populous; the natives are very black, strong, and well-limbed people; having great round heads, their hair naturally curled and short, which they shave into several forms, and dye it also of divers colours, namely red, white and yellow. They have broad round faces with great bottle noses, yet agreeable enough, till they disfigure them by painting, and by wearing great things through their noses as big as a man's thumb and about four inches long; these are run clear through both nostrils, one end coming out by one cheek-bone, and the other end against the other; and their noses so stretched that only a small slip of them appears about the ornament. They have also great holes in their ears, wherein they wear such stuff as in their noses. THEIR PROAS. They are very dexterous active fellows in their proas, which are very ingeniously built. They are narrow and long with outlagers on one side; the head and stern higher than the rest, and carved into many devices, namely some fowl, fish, or a man's head, painted or carved: and though it is but rudely done, yet the resemblance appears plainly, and shows an ingenious fancy. But with what instruments they make their proas or carved work I know not; for they seem to be utterly ignorant of iron. They have very neat paddles with which they manage their proas dexterously and make great way through the water. Their weapons are chiefly lances, swords and slings, and some bows and arrows: they have also wooden fishgigs for striking fish. Those that came to assault us in Slingers Bay on the main are in all respects like these; and I believe these are alike treacherous. Their speech is clear and distinct; the words they used most when near us were "vacousee allamais," and then they pointed to the shore. Their signs of friendship are either a great truncheon, or bough of a tree full of leaves put on their heads; often striking their heads with their hands. ANTHONY CAVE'S ISLAND. The next day, having a fresh gale of wind, we got under a high island, about 4 or 5 leagues round, very woody, and full of plantations upon the sides of the hills; and in the bays by the waterside are abundance of coconut-trees. It lies in the latitude of 3 degrees 25 minutes south, and meridian distance from Cape Mabo 1316 miles. On the south-east part of it or 3 or 4 other small woody islands; one high and peaked, the other low and flat; all bedecked with coconut-trees and other wood. On the north there is another island of an indifferent height, and of a somewhat larger circumference than the great high island last mentioned. We passed between this and the high island. The high island is called in the Dutch charts Anthony Cave's Island. As for the flat low island and the other small one, it is probable they were never seen by the Dutch; nor the islands to the north of Gerrit Dennis Island. ITS INHABITANTS. As soon as we came near Cave's Island some canoes came about us and made signs for us to come ashore, as all the rest had done before; probably thinking we could run the ship aground anywhere, as they did their proas; for we saw neither sail nor anchor among any of them, though most eastern Indians have both. These had proas made of one tree, well dug, with outlagers on one side: they were but small yet well shaped. We endeavoured to anchor but found no ground within a mile of the shore: we kept close along the north side, still sounding till we came to the north-east end, but found no ground; the canoes still accompanying us; and the bays were covered with men going along as we sailed: many of them strove to swim off to us but we left them astern. Being at the north-east point we found a strong current setting to the north-west; so that though we had steered to keep under the high island, yet we were driven towards the flat one. At this time 3 of the natives came aboard: I gave each of them a knife, a looking-glass, and a string of beads. I showed them pumpkins and coconut-shells, and made signs to them to bring some aboard, and had presently 3 coconuts out of one of the canoes. I showed them nutmegs, and by their signs I guessed they had some on the island. I also showed them some gold-dust, which they seemed to know, and called out "manneel, manneel," and pointed towards the land. A while after these men were gone 2 or 3 canoes came from the flat island, and by signs invited us to their island; at which the others seemed displeased, and used very menacing gestures and (I believe) speeches to each other. Night coming on we stood off to sea; and, having but little wind all night, were driven away to the north-west. We saw many great fires on the flat island. These last men that came off to us were all black, as those we had seen before with frizzled hair: they were very tall, lusty, well-shaped men; they wear great things in their noses, and paint as the others, but not much; they make the same signs of friendship, and their language seems to be one: but the others had proas, and these canoes. On the sides of some of these we saw the figures of several fish neatly cut; and these last were not so shy as the others. TREES FULL OF WORMS FOUND IN THE SEA. Steering away from Cave's Island south-south-east we found a strong current against us, which set only in some places in streams; and in them we saw many trees and logs of wood which drove by us. We had but little wood aboard; wherefore I hoisted out the pinnace and sent her to take up some of this driftwood. In a little time she came aboard with a great tree in a tow, which we could hardly hoist in with all our tackles. We cut up the tree and split it for firewood. It was much worm-eaten and had in it some live worms above an inch long, and about the bigness of a goose-quill, and having their heads crusted over with a thin shell. ST. JOHN'S ISLAND. After this we passed by an island called by the Dutch St. John's Island, leaving it to the north of us. It is about 9 or 10 leagues round and very well adorned with lofty trees. We saw many plantations on the sides of the hills, and abundance of coconut-trees about them; as also thick groves on the bays by the seaside. As we came near it 3 canoes came off to us but would not come aboard. They were such as we had seen about the other islands: they spoke the same language, and made the same signs of peace; and their canoes were such as at Cave's Island. THE MAINLAND OF NEW GUINEA. We stood along by St. John's Island till we came almost to the south-east point; and then, seeing no more islands to the eastward of us, nor any likelihood of anchoring under this, I steered away for the main of New Guinea; we being now (as I supposed) to the east of it, on this north side. My design of seeing these islands as I passed along was to get wood and water, but could find no anchor-ground, and therefore could not do as I purposed. Besides, these islands are all so populous that I dared not send my boat ashore unless I could have anchored pretty nigh. Wherefore I rather chose to prosecute my design on the main, the season of the year being now at hand; for I judged the westerly winds were nigh spent. ITS INHABITANTS. On the 8th of March we saw some smokes on the main, being distant from it 4 or 5 leagues. It is very high, woody land, with some spots of savannah. About 10 in the morning 6 or 7 canoes came off to us: most of them had no more than one man in them; they were all black, with short curled hair; having the same ornaments in their noses, and their heads so shaved and painted, and speaking the same words, as the inhabitants of Cave's Island before mentioned. THE COAST DESCRIBED. There was a headland to the southward of us beyond which, seeing no land, I supposed that from thence the land trends away more westerly. This headland lies in the latitude of 5 degrees 2 minutes south, and meridian distance from Cape Mabo 1290 miles. In the night we lay by for fear of over-shooting this headland. Between which and Cape St. Maries the land is high, mountainous and woody; having many points of land shooting out into the sea, which make so many fine bays. The coast lies north-north-east and south-south-west. The 9th in the morning a huge black man came off to us in a canoe but would not come aboard. He made the same signs of friendship to us as the rest we had met with; yet seemed to differ in his language, not using any of those words which the others did. We saw neither smokes nor plantations near this headland. We found here variation 1 degree east. CAPE AND BAY ST. GEORGE. In the afternoon, as we plied near the shore, 3 canoes came off to us; one had 4 men in her, the others 2 apiece. That with the 4 men came pretty nigh us, and showed us a coconut and water in a bamboo, making signs that there was enough ashore where they lived; they pointed to the place where they would have us go, and so went away. We saw a small round pretty high island, about a league to the north of this headland, within which there was a large deep bay, whither the canoes went; and we strove to get thither before night, but could not; wherefore we stood off, and saw land to the westward of this headland, bearing west by south half south, distance about 10 leagues; and, as we thought, still more land bearing south-west by south, distance 12 or 14 leagues: but, being clouded, it disappeared and we thought we had been deceived. Before night we opened the headland fair and I named it Cape St. George. The land from hence trends away west-north-west about 10 leagues, which is as far as we could see it; and the land that we saw to the westward of it in the evening, which bore west by south half south, was another point about 10 leagues from Cape St. George; between which there runs in a deep bay for 20 leagues or more. We saw some high land in spots like islands down in that bay at a great distance; but whether they are islands or the main closing there we know not. The next morning we saw other land to the south-east of the westermost point, which till then was clouded; it was very high land, and the same that we saw the day before, that disappeared in a cloud. This Cape St. George lies in the latitude of 5 degrees 5 minutes south; and meridian distance from Cape Mabo 1290 miles. The island off this cape I called St. George's Isle; and the bay between it and the west point I named St. George's Bay. Note: no Dutch charts go so far as this cape, by 10 leagues. On the 10th in the evening we got within a league of the westermost land seen, which is pretty high and very woody, but no appearance of anchoring. I stood off again, designing (if possible) to ply to and fro in this bay till I found a conveniency to wood and water. We saw no more plantations, nor coconut-trees; yet in the night we discerned a small fire right against us. The next morning we saw a burning mountain in the country. It was round, high, and peaked at top (as most volcanoes are) and sent forth a great quantity of smoke. We took up a log of driftwood and split it for firing; in which we found some small fish. CAPE ORFORD. The day after we passed by the south-west cape of this bay, leaving it to the north of us: when we were abreast of it I called my officers together, and named it Cape Orford, in honour of my noble patron; drinking his lordship's health. This cape bears from Cape St. George south-west about 18 leagues. Between them there is a bay about 25 leagues deep, having pretty high land all round it, especially near the capes, though they themselves are not high. Cape Orford lies in the latitude of 5 degrees 24 minutes south by my observation; and meridian distance from Cape St. George 44 miles west. The land trends from this cape north-west by west into the bay, and on the other side south-west per compass, which is south-west 9 degrees west, allowing the variation which is here 9 degrees east. The land on each side of the cape is more savannah than woodland, and is highest on the north-west side. The cape itself is a bluff point of an indifferent height with a flat tableland at top. When we were to the south-west of the cape it appeared to be a low point shooting out; which you cannot see when abreast of it. This morning we struck a log of driftwood with our turtle-irons, hoisted it in, and split it for firewood. Afterwards we struck another but could not get it in. There were many fish about it. We steered along south-west as the land lies, keeping about 6 leagues off the shore; and, being desirous to cut wood and fill water if I saw any conveniency, I lay by in the night, because I would not miss any place proper for those ends, for fear of wanting such necessaries as we could not live without. This coast is high and mountainous, and not so thick with trees as that on the other side of Cape Orford. ANOTHER BAY. THE INHABITANTS THERE. On the 14th, seeing a pretty deep bay ahead, and some islands where I thought we might ride secure, we ran in towards the shore and saw some smokes. At 10 o'clock we saw a point which shot out pretty well into the sea, with a bay within it which promised fair for water; and we stood in with a moderate gale. Being got into the bay within the point we saw many coconut-trees, plantations, and houses. When I came within 4 or 5 mile of the shore 6 small boats came off to view us, with about 40 men in them all. Perceiving that they only came to view us and would not come aboard, I made signs and waved to them to go ashore; but they did not or would not understand me; therefore I whistled a shot over their heads out of my fowling-piece, and then they pulled away for the shore as hard as they could. These were no sooner ashore but we saw 3 boats coming from the islands to leeward of us, and they soon came within call; for we lay becalmed. One of the boats had about 40 men in her, and was a large well-built boat; the other 2 were but small. Not long after I saw another boat coming out of that bay where I intended to go: she likewise was a large boat, with a high head and stern painted and full of men; this I thought came off to fight us, as it is probable they all did; therefore I fired another small shot over the great boat that was nigh us, which made them leave their babbling and take to their paddles. We still lay becalmed; and therefore they, rowing wide of us, directed their course toward the other great boat that was coming off: when they were pretty near each other I caused the gunner to fire a gun between them which he did very dexterously; it was loaded with round and partridge-shot; the last dropped in the water somewhat short of them, but the round shot went between both boats and grazed about 100 yards beyond them; this so affrighted them that they rowed away for the shore as fast as they could, without coming near each other; and the little boats made the best of their way after them: and now, having a gentle breeze at south-south-east, we bore in to the bay after them. When we came by the point I saw a great number of men peeping from under the rocks: I ordered a shot to be fired close by to scare them. The shot grazed between us and the point; and, mounting again, flew over the point, and grazed a second time just by them. We were obliged to sail along close by the bays; and, seeing multitudes setting under the trees, I ordered a third gun to be fired among the coconut-trees to scare them; for, my business being to wood and water, I thought it necessary to strike some terror into the inhabitants, who were very numerous, and (by what I saw now and had formerly experienced) treacherous. After this I sent my boat to sound; they had first 40, then 30, and at last 20 fathom water. We followed the boat and came to anchor about a quarter of a mile from the shore in 26 fathom water, fine black sand and oaze. We rode right against the mouth of a small river where I hoped to find fresh water. Some of the natives standing on a small point at the river's mouth, I sent a small shot over their heads to fright them; which it did effectually. A LARGE ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR'S ATTEMPTS TO TRADE WITH THEM. In the afternoon I sent my boat ashore to the natives who stood upon the point by the river's mouth with a present of coconuts; when the boat was come near the shore they came running into the water, and put their nuts into the boat. Then I made a signal for the boat to come aboard, and sent both it and the yawl into the river to look for fresh water, ordering the pinnace to lie near the river's mouth while the yawl went up to search. In an hour's time they returned aboard with some barrecoes full of fresh water, which they had taken up about half a mile up the river. After which I sent them again with casks; ordering one of them to fill water, and the other to watch the motion of the natives, lest they should make any opposition; but they did not, and so the boats returned a little before sunset with a tun and a half of water; and the next day by noon brought aboard about 6 tun of water. I sent ashore commodities to purchase hogs, etc., being informed that the natives have plenty of them, as also of yams and other good roots; but my men returned without getting anything that I sent them for; the natives being unwilling to trade with us: yet they admired our hatchets and axes; but would part with nothing but coconuts; which they used to climb the trees for; and so soon as they gave them our men they beckoned to them to be gone; for they were much afraid of us. The 18th I sent both boats again for water, and before noon they had filled all my casks. In the afternoon I sent them both to cut wood; but, seeing about 40 natives standing on the bay at a small distance from our men, I made a signal for them to come aboard again; which they did, and brought me word that the men which we saw on the bay were passing that way, but were afraid to come nigh them. At 4 o'clock I sent both the boats again for more wood, and they returned in the evening. Then I called my officers to consult whether it were convenient to stay here longer, and endeavour a better acquaintance with these people or go to sea. My design of tarrying here longer was, if possible, to get some hogs, goats, yams and other roots; as also to get some knowledge of the country and its product. My officers unanimously gave their opinions for staying longer here. So the next day I sent both boats ashore again to fish and to cut more wood. While they were ashore about 30 or 40 men and women passed by them; they were a little afraid of our people at first; but upon their making signs of friendship they passed by quietly; the men finely bedecked with feathers of divers colours about their heads, and lances in their hands; the women had no ornament about them, nor anything to cover their nakedness but a bunch of small green boughs before and behind, stuck under a string which came round their waists. They carried large baskets on their heads, full of yams. And this I have observed amongst all the wild natives I have known that they make their women carry the burdens, while the men walk before without any other load than their arms and ornaments. At noon our men came aboard with the wood they had cut, and had caught but 6 fishes at 4 or 5 hauls of the seine, though we saw abundance of fish leaping in the bay all the day long. In the afternoon I sent the boats ashore for more wood; and some of our men went to the natives' houses, and found they were now more shy than they used to be; had taken down all the coconuts from the trees and driven away their hogs. Our people made signs to them to know what was become of their hogs, etc. The natives, pointing to some houses in the bottom of the bay, and imitating the noise of those creatures, seemed to intimate that there were both hogs and goats of several sizes, which they expressed by holding their hands abroad at several distances from the ground. At night our boats came aboard with wood, and the next morning I went myself with both boats up the river to the watering-place, carrying with me all such trifles and iron-work as I thought most proper to induce them to a commerce with us; but I found them very shy and roguish. I saw but 2 men and a boy: one of the men by some signs was persuaded to come to the boat's side, where I was; to him I gave a knife, a string of beads, and a glass bottle; the fellow called out, "cocos, cocos," pointing to a village hard by, and signified to us that he would go for some; but he never returned to us. And thus they had frequently of late served our men. I took 8 or 9 men with me and marched to their houses, which I found very mean; and their doors made fast with withes. I visited 3 of their villages; and, finding all the houses thus abandoned by the inhabitants, who carried with them all their hogs etc., I brought out of their houses some small fishing-nets in recompense for those things they had received of us. As we were coming away we saw 2 of the natives; I showed them the things that we carried with us and called to them "cocos, cocos," to let them know that I took these things because they had not made good what they had promised by their signs, and by their calling out "cocos." While I was thus employed the men in the yawl filled 2 hogsheads of water and all the barrecoes. About 1 in the afternoon I came aboard and found all my officers and men very importunate to go to that bay where the hogs were said to be. I was loth to yield to it, fearing they would deal too roughly with the natives. By 2 o'clock in the afternoon many black clouds gathered over the land, which I thought would deter them from their enterprise; but they solicited me the more to let them go. At last I consented, sending those commodities I had ashore with me in the morning, and giving them a strict charge to deal by fair means, and to act cautiously for their own security. The bay I sent them to was about 2 miles from the ship. As soon as they were gone I got all things ready that, if I saw occasion, I might assist them with my great guns. When they came to land the natives in great companies stood to resist them; shaking their lances and threatening them; and some were so daring as to wade into the sea, holding a target in one hand and a lance in the other. Our men held up to them such commodities as I had sent, and made signs of friendship; but to no purpose; for the natives waved them off. Seeing therefore they could not be prevailed upon to a friendly commerce, my men, being resolved to have some provision among them, fired some muskets to scare them away; which had the desired effect upon all but 2 or 3, who stood still in a menacing posture till the boldest dropped his target and ran away; they supposed he was shot in the arm: he and some others felt the smart of our bullets but none were killed; our design being rather to fright than to kill them. Our men landed and found abundance of tame hogs running among the houses. They shot down 9, which they brought away, besides many that ran away wounded. They had but little time; for in less than an hour after they went from the ship it began to rain: wherefore they got what they could into the boats; for I had charged them to come away if it rained. By that time the boat was aboard and the hogs taken in it cleared up; and my men desired to make another trip thither before night; this was about 5 in the evening; and I consented, giving them order to repair on board before night. In the close of the evening they returned accordingly with 8 hogs more, and a little live pig; and by this time the other hogs were jerked and salted. These that came last we only dressed and corned till morning; and then sent both boats ashore for more refreshments, either of hogs or roots: but in the night the natives had conveyed away their provisions of all sorts. Many of them were now about the houses, and none offered to resist our boats landing, but on the contrary were so amicable that one man brought 10 or 12 coconuts, left them on the shore after he had showed them to our men, and went out of sight. Our people finding nothing but nets and images brought some of them away; which 2 of my men brought aboard in a small canoe; and presently after, my boats came off. I ordered the boatswain to take care of the nets, till we came at some place where they might be disposed of for some refreshment for the use of all the company: the images I took into my own custody. In the afternoon I sent the canoe the place from whence she had been brought; and in her, 2 axes, 2 hatchets (one of them helved) 6 knives, 6 looking-glasses, a large bunch of beads, and 4 glass bottles. Our men drew the canoe ashore, placed the things to the best advantage in her; and came off in the pinnace which I sent to guard them. And now, being well stocked with wood and all my water-casks full, I resolved to sail the next morning. All the time of our stay here we had very fair weather; only sometimes in the afternoon we had a shower of rain which lasted not above an hour at most: also some thunder and lightning with very little wind. We had sea- and land-breezes; the former between the south-south-east, and the latter from north-east to north-west. HE NAMES THE PLACE PORT MONTAGUE. THE COUNTRY THEREABOUTS DESCRIBED, AND ITS PRODUCE. This place I named port Montague in honour of my noble patron. It lies in the latitude of 6 degrees 10 minutes south, and meridian distance from Cape St. George 151 miles west. The country hereabouts is mountainous and woody, full of rich valleys and pleasant fresh-water brooks. The mould in the valleys is deep and yellowish; that on the sides of the hills of a very brown colour, and not very deep, but rocky underneath; yet excellent planting land. The trees in general are neither very straight, thick, nor tall; yet appear green and pleasant enough: some of them bore flowers, some berries, and others big fruits; but all unknown to any of us. Coconut-trees thrive very well here; as well on the bays by the seaside, as more remote among the plantations. The nuts are of an indifferent size, the milk and kernel very thick and pleasant. Here is ginger, yams, and other very good roots for the pot, that our men saw and tasted. What other fruits or roots the country affords I know not. Here are hogs and dogs; other land-animals we saw none. The fowls we saw and knew were pigeons, parrots, cockadores, and crows like those in England; a sort of birds about the bigness of a blackbird, and smaller birds many. The sea and rivers have plenty of fish; we saw abundance, though we caught but few, and these were cavallies, yellow-tails and whip-rays. A BURNING ISLAND DESCRIBED. We departed from hence on the 22nd of March, and on the 24th in the evening we saw some high land bearing north-west half west; to the west of which we could see no land, though there appeared something like land bearing west a little southerly; but, not being sure of it, I steered west-north-west all night, and kept going on with an easy sail, intending to coast along the shore at a distance. At 10 o'clock I saw a great fire bearing north-west by west, blazing up in a pillar, sometimes very high for 3 or 4 minutes, then falling quite down for an equal space of time; sometimes hardly visible, till it blazed up again. I had laid me down having been indisposed this 3 days: but upon a sight of this my chief mate called me; I got up and viewed it for about half an hour and knew it to be a burning hill by its intervals: I charged them to look well out, having bright moonlight. In the morning I found that the fire we had seen the night before was a burning island; and steered for it. We saw many other islands, one large high island, and another smaller, but pretty high. I stood near the volcano and many small low islands with some shoals. A NEW PASSAGE FOUND. March the 25th 1700 in the evening we came within 3 leagues of this burning hill, being at the same time 2 leagues from the main. I found a good channel to pass between them, and kept nearer the main than the island. At 7 in the evening I sounded, and had 52 fathom fine sand and oaze. I stood to the northward to get clear of this strait, having but little wind and fair weather. The island all night vomited fire and smoke very amazingly; and at every belch we heard a dreadful noise like thunder, and saw a flame of fire after it, the most terrifying that ever I saw. The intervals between its belches were about half a minute, some more, others less: neither were these pulses or eruptions alike; for some were but faint convulsions in comparison of the more vigorous; yet even the weakest vented a great deal of fire; but the largest made a roaring noise, and sent up a large flame 20 or 30 yards high; and then might be seen a great stream of fire running down to the foot of the island, even to the shore. From the furrows made by this descending fire we could in the daytime see great smokes arise, which probably were made by the sulphureous matter thrown out of the funnel at the top which, tumbling down to the bottom and there lying in a heap, burned till either consumed or extinguished; and as long as it burned and kept its heat so long the smoke ascended from it; which we perceived to increase or decrease, according to the quantity of matter discharged from the funnel. But the next night, being shot to the westward of the burning island, and the funnel of it lying on the south side, we could not discern the fire there as we did the smoke in the day when we were to the southward of it. This volcano lies in the latitude of 5 degrees 33 minutes south, and meridian distance from Cape St. George 332 miles west. NEW BRITAIN. The eastermost part of New Guinea lies 40 miles to the westward of this tract of land, and by hydrographers they are made joining together: but here I found an opening and passage between, with many islands; the largest of which lie on the north side of this passage or strait. The channel is very good, between the islands and the land to the eastward. The east part of New Guinea is high and mountainous, ending on the north-east with a large promontory, which I named King William's Cape in honour of his present majesty. We saw some smokes on it; and, leaving it on our larboard side, steered away near the east land which ends with two remarkable capes or heads distant from each other about 6 or 7 leagues. Within each head were two very remarkable mountains, ascending very gradually from the seaside; which afforded a very pleasant and agreeable prospect. The mountains and lower land were pleasantly mixed with woodland and savannahs. The trees appeared very green and flourishing; and the savannahs seemed to be very smooth and even; no meadow in England appears more green in the spring than these. We saw smokes but did not strive to anchor here; but rather chose to get under one of the islands (where I thought I should find few or no inhabitants) that I might repair my pinnace, which was so crazy that I could not venture ashore anywhere with her. As we stood over to the islands we looked out very well to the north, but could see no land that way; by which I was well assured that we were got through, and that this east land does not join to New Guinea; therefore I named it New Britain. The north-west cape I called Cape Gloucester, and the south-west point Cape Anne; and the north-west mountain, which is very remarkable, I called Mount Gloucester. This island which I called New Britain has about 4 degrees of latitude: the body of it lying in 4 degrees and the northermost part in 2 degrees 30 minutes and the southermost in 6 degrees 30 minutes south. It has about 5 degrees 18 minutes longitude from east to west. It is generally high, mountainous land, mixed with large valleys; which as well as the mountains appeared very fertile; and in most places that we saw the trees are very large, tall and thick. It is also very well inhabited with strong well-limbed negroes, whom we found very daring and bold at several places. As to the product of it I know no more than what I have said in my account of Port Montague: but it is very probable this island may afford as many rich commodities as any in the world; and the natives may be easily brought to commerce, though I could not pretend to it under my present circumstances. SIR GEORGE ROOK'S ISLAND. Being near the island to the northward of the volcano I sent my boat to sound, thinking to anchor here; but she returned and brought me word that they had no ground, till they met with a reef of coral rocks about a mile from the shore. Then I bore away to the north side of the island where we found no anchoring neither. We saw several people, and some coconut-trees, but could not send ashore for want of my pinnace which was out of order. In the evening I stood off to sea to be at such a distance that I might not be driven by any current upon the shoals of this island if it should prove calm. We had but little wind, especially the beginning of the night; but in the morning I found myself so far to the west of the island that, the wind being at east-south-east, I could not fetch it; wherefore I kept on to the southward and stemmed with the body of a high island about 11 or 12 leagues long, lying to the southward of that which I before designed for. I named this island Sir George Rook's Island. LONG ISLAND AND CROWN ISLAND, DISCOVERED AND DESCRIBED. We also saw some other islands to the westward; which may be better seen in my chart of these lands than here described. But, seeing a very small island lying to the north-west of the long island which was before us, and not far from it, I steered away for that; hoping to find anchoring there: and, having but little wind, I sent my boat before to sound; which, when we were about 2 miles distance from the shore, came on board and brought me word that there was good anchoring in 30 or 40 fathom water, a mile from the isle and within a reef of the rocks which lay in a half-moon, reaching from the north part of the island to the south-east: so at noon we got in and anchored in 36 fathom a mile from the isle. In the afternoon I sent my boat ashore to the island to see what convenience there was to haul our vessel ashore in order to be mended, and whether we could catch any fish. My men in the boat rowed about the island, but could not land by reason of the rocks and a great surge running in upon the shore. We found variation here 8 degrees 25 minutes west. I designed to have stayed among these islands till I had got my pinnace refitted; but, having no more than one man who had skill to work upon her, I saw she would be a long time in repairing (which was one great reason why I could not prosecute my discoveries further) and, the easterly winds being set in, I found I should scarce be able to hold my ground. The 31st in the forenoon we shot in between 2 islands lying about 4 leagues asunder; with intention to pass between them. The southermost is a long island with a high hill at each end; this I named Long island. The northermost is a round high island towering up with several heads or tops, something resembling a crown; this I named Crown Isle from its form. Both these islands appeared very pleasant, having spots of green savannahs mixed among the woodland: the trees appeared very green and flourishing, and some of them looked white and full of blossoms. We passed close by Crown Isle; saw many coconut-trees on the bays and the sides of the hills; and one boat was coming off from the shore but returned again. We saw no smokes on either of the islands, neither did we see any plantations; and it is probable they are not very well peopled. We saw many shoals near Crown Island, and reefs of rocks running off from the points a mile or more into the sea. My boat was once overboard with design to have sent her ashore; but, having little wind and seeing some shoals, I hoisted her in again and stood off out of danger. SIR R. RICH'S ISLAND. In the afternoon, seeing an island bearing north-west by west, we steered away north-west by north, to be to the northward of it. The next morning, being about midway from the islands we left yesterday, and having this to the westward of us; the land of the main of New Guinea within us to the southward appeared very high. When we came within 4 or 5 leagues of this island to the west of us, 4 boats came off to view us: one came within call, but returned with the other 3 without speaking to us: so we kept on for the island which I named Sir R. Rich's Island. It was pretty high, woody, and mixed with savannahs like those formerly mentioned. Being to the north of it we saw an opening between it and another island 2 leagues to the west of it, which before appeared all in one. The main seemed to be high land, trending to the westward. A BURNING ISLAND. On Tuesday the 2nd of April about 8 in the morning we discovered a high peaked island to the westward which seemed to smoke at its top. The next day we passed by the north side of the burning island and saw a smoke again at its top; but, the vent lying on the south side of the peak, we could not observe it distinctly, nor see the fire. We afterwards opened 3 more islands and some land to the southward, which we could not well tell whether it were islands or part of the main. These islands are all high, full of fair trees and spots of green savannahs; as well the burning isle as the rest; but the burning isle was more round and peaked at top, very fine land near the sea, and for two-thirds up it. We also saw another isle sending forth a great smoke at once; but it soon vanished, and we saw it no more. We saw also among these islands 3 small vessels with sails, which the people on New Britain seem wholly ignorant of. A STRANGE SPOUT. The 11th at noon, having a very good observation, I found myself to the northward of my reckoning; and thence concluded that we had a current setting north-west, or rather more westerly, as the land lies. From that time to the next morning we had fair clear weather and a fine moderate gale from south-east to east by north: but at daybreak the clouds began to fly, and it lightned very much in the east, south-east and north-east. At sun-rising the sky looked very red in the east near the horizon; and there were many black clouds both to the south and north of it. About a quarter of an hour after the sun was up there was a squall to the windward of us; when on a sudden one of our men on the forecastle called out that he saw something astern, but could not tell what: I looked out for it and immediately saw a spout beginning to work within a quarter of a mile of us, exactly in the wind. We presently put right before it. It came very swiftly, whirling the water up in a pillar about 6 or 7 yards high. As yet I could not see any pendulous cloud from whence it might come; and was in hopes it would soon lose its force. In 4 or 5 minutes time it came within a cable's length of us and passed away to leeward; and then I saw a long pale stream coming down to the whirling water. This stream was about the bigness of a rainbow: the upper end seemed vastly high, not descending from any dark cloud and therefore the most strange to me; I never having seen the like before. It passed about a mile to leeward of us and then broke. This was but a small spout, not strong nor lasting; yet I perceived much wind in it as it passed by us. The current still continued at north-west a little westerly, which I allowed to run a mile per hour. A CONJECTURE CONCERNING A NEW PASSAGE SOUTHWARD. By an observation the 13th at noon I found myself 25 minutes to the northward of my reckoning; whether occasioned by bad steerage, a bad account, or a current, I could not determine; but was apt to judge it might be a complication of all; for I could not think it was wholly the current, the land here lying east by south, and west by north, or a little more northerly and southerly. We had kept so nigh as to see it, and at farthest had not been above 20 leagues from it, but sometimes much nearer; and it is not probable that any current should set directly off from a land. A tide indeed may; but then the flood has the same force to strike in upon the shore as the ebb to strike off from it: but a current must have set nearly alongshore either easterly or westerly; and if anything northerly or southerly, it could be but very little in comparison of its east or west course, on a coast lying as this doth; which yet we did not perceive. If therefore we were deceived by a current it is very probable that the land is here disjoined, and that there is a passage through to the southward, and that the land from King William's Cape to this place is an island, separated from New Guinea by some strait as New Britain is by that which we came through. But this being at best but a probable conjecture I shall insist no farther upon it. KING WILLIAM'S ISLAND. The 14th we passed by Schouten's Island and Providence Island, and found still a very strong current setting to the north-west. On the 17th the we saw a high mountain on the main that sent forth great quantities of smoke from its top: this volcano we did not see in our voyage out. In the afternoon we discovered King William's Island, and crowded all the sail we could to get near it before night; thinking to lie to the eastward of it till day, for fear of some shoals that lie at the west end of it. Before night we got within 2 leagues of it and, having a fine gale of wind and a light moon, I resolved to pass through in the night; which I hoped to do before 12 o'clock if the gale continued; but when we came within 2 miles of it it fell calm; yet afterwards, by the help of the current, a small gale, and our boat, we got through before day. In the night we had a very fragrant smell from the island. STRANGE WHIRLPOOLS. By morning-light we were got 2 leagues to the westward of it; and then were becalmed all the morning; and met such whirling tides that when we came into them the ship turned quite round; and though sometimes we had a small gale of wind yet she could not feel the helm when she came into these whirlpools: neither could we get from amongst them till a brisk gale sprang up; yet we drove not much any way, but whirled round like a top. And those whirlpools were not constant to one place, but drove about strangely; and sometimes we saw among them large ripplings of the water, like great overfalls, making a fearful noise. I sent my boat to sound but found no ground. DISTANCE BETWEEN CAPE MABO AND CAPE ST. GEORGE COMPUTED. The 18th Cape Mabo bore south distance 9 leagues. By which account it lies in the latitude of 50 minutes south and meridian distance from Cape St. George 1243 miles. St. John's Isle lies 48 miles to the east of Cape St. George; which, being added to the distance between Cape St. George and Cape Mabo, makes 1291 meridional parts; which was the furthest that I was to the east. In my outward-bound voyage I made meridian distance between Cape Mabo and Cape St. George 1290 miles; and now in my return but 1243; which is 47 short of my distance going out. This difference may probably be occasioned by the strong western current which we found in our return, which I allowed for after I perceived it; and though we did not discern any current when we went to the eastward, except when near the islands, yet it is probable we had one against us, though we did not take notice of it because of the strong westerly winds. King William's Island lies in the latitude of 21 minutes south, and may be seen distinctly off of Cape Mabo. In the evening we passed by Cape Mabo; and afterwards steered away south-east half east, keeping along the shore which here trends south-easterly. The next morning, seeing a large opening in the land with an island near the south side, I stood in, thinking to anchor there. When we were shot in within 2 leagues of the island the wind came to the west, which blows right into the opening. I stood to the north shore; intending, when I came pretty nigh, to send my boat into the opening, and sound before I would adventure in. We found several deep bays, but no soundings within 2 miles of the shore; therefore I stood off again. Then, seeing a rippling under our lee, I sent my boat to sound on it; which returned in half an hour and brought me word that the rippling we saw was only a tide, and that they had no ground there. CHAPTER 5. NAVIGATION AMONG THE ISLANDS. THE AUTHOR'S RETURN FROM THE COAST OF NEW GUINEA. The wind seeming to incline to east, as might be expected according to the season of the year, I rather chose to shape my course as these winds would best permit than strive to return the same way we came; which, for many leagues, must have been against this monsoon: though indeed, on the other hand, the dangers in that way we already knew; but what might be in this by which we now proposed to return we could not tell. A DEEP CHANNEL. We were now in a channel about 8 on 9 leagues wide, having a range of islands on the north side, and another on the south side, and very deep water between, so that we had no ground. The 22nd of April in the morning I sent my boat ashore to an island on the north side, and stood that way with the ship. They found no ground till within a cable's length of the shore, and then had coral rocks; so that they could not catch any fish, though they saw a great many. They brought aboard a small canoe, which they found adrift. They met with no game ashore save only one party-coloured parakeet. The land is of an indifferent height; very rocky, yet clothed with tall trees, whose bare roots run along upon the rocks. Our people saw a pond of salt-water but found no fresh. Near this island we met a pretty strong tide but found neither tide nor current off at some distance. On the 24th, being about 2 leagues from an island to the southward of us, we came over a shoal on which we had but 5 fathom and a half. We did not descry it till we saw the ground under us. In less than half an hour before the boat had been sounding in discoloured water, but had no ground. We manned the boat presently and towed the ship about; and then sounding had 12, 15, and 17 fathom, and then no ground with our hand-lead. The shoal was rocky; but in 12 and 15 fathom we had oazy ground. STRANGE TIDES. We found here very strange tides that ran in streams, making a great sea; and roaring so loud that we could hear them before they came within a mile of us. The sea round about them seemed all broken, and tossed the ship so that she would not answer her helm. These ripplings commonly lasted 10 or 12 minutes, and then the sea became as still and smooth as a mill-pond. We sounded often when in the midst of them, and afterwards in the smooth water; but found no ground, neither could we perceive that they drove us any way. We had in one night several of these tides that came most of them from the west; and, the wind being from that quarter, we commonly heard them a long time before they came; and sometimes lowered our topsails, thinking it was a gust of wind. They were of great length from north to south, but their breadth not exceeding 200 yards, and they drove a great pace: for though we had little wind to move us, yet these would soon pass away and leave the water very smooth, and just before we encountered them we met a great swell but it did not break. THE ISLAND CERAM DESCRIBED. The 26th we saw the island Ceram; and still met some ripplings, but much fainter than those we had the 2 preceding days. We sailed along the island Ceram to the westward, edging in withal, to see if peradventure we might find a harbour to anchor in where we might water, trim the ship, and refresh our men. In the morning we saw a sail to the north of us, steering in for the west end of Ceram, as we likewise were. In the evening, being near the shore on the north side of the island, I stood off to sea with an easy sail; intending to stand in for the shore in the morning, and try to find anchoring to fill water, and get a little fish for refreshment. Accordingly in the morning early I stood in with the north-west point of Ceram; leaving a small island, called Bonao, to the west. The sail we saw the day before was now come pretty nigh us, steering in also (as we did) between Ceram and Bonao. I shortened sail a little for him; and when he got abreast of us not above 2 miles off I sent my boat aboard. It was a Dutch sloop, come from Ternate, and bound for Amboina: my men whom I sent in the boat bought 5 bags of new rice, each containing about 130 pounds, for 6 Spanish dollars. The sloop had many rare parrots aboard for sale which did not want price. A Malayan merchant aboard told our men that about 6 months ago he was at Bencola, and at that time the governor either died or was killed, and that the commander of an English ship then in that road succeeded to that government. In the afternoon, having a breeze at north and north-north-east, I sent my boat to sound and, standing after her with the ship, anchored in 30 fathom water oazy sand, half a mile from the shore, right against a small river of fresh water. The next morning I sent both the boats ashore to fish; they returned about 10 o'clock with a few mullets and 3 or 4 cavallies, and some pan-fish. We found variation here 2 degrees 15 minutes east. When the sea was smooth by the land-winds we sent our boats ashore for water; who, in a few turns, filled all our casks. The land here is low, swampy and woody; the mould is a dark grey, friable earth. Two rivers came out within a bow-shot of each other, just opposite to the place where we rode: one comes right down out of the country; and the other from the south, running along by the shore, not musket-shot from the seaside. The northernmost river is biggest, and out of it we filled our water; our boats went in and out at any time of tide. In some places the land is overflown with fresh water, at full sea. The land hereabouts is full of trees unknown to us, but none of them very large or high; the woods yield many wild fruits and berries, such as I never saw elsewhere. We met with no land animals. STRANGE FOWLS. The fowls we found were pigeons, parrots, cockadores, and a great number of small birds unknown to me. One of the master's mates killed 2 fowls as big as crows; of a black colour, excepting that the tails were all white. Their necks were pretty long, one of which was of a saffron-colour, the other black. They had very large bills much like a ram's horn; their legs were strong and short, and their claws like a pigeon's; their wings of an ordinary length: yet they make a great noise when they fly, which they do very heavily. They feed on berries, and perch on the highest trees. Their flesh is sweet; I saw some of the same species at New Guinea, but nowhere else. THE ISLANDS BONAO, BOURO, MISACOMBI, PENTARE, LAUBANA, AND POTORO. May the 3rd at 6 in the morning we weighed, intending to pass between Bonao and Ceram; but presently after we got under sail we saw a pretty large proa coming about the north-west point of Ceram. Wherefore I stood to the north to speak with her, putting aboard our ensign. She, seeing us coming that way, went into a small creek and skulked behind a point a while: at last discovering her again I sent my boat to speak with her; but the proa rowed away and would not come nigh it. After this, finding I could not pass between Bonao and Ceram as I purposed, I steered away to the north of it. This Bonao is a small island lying about 4 leagues from the north-west point of Ceram. I was informed by the Dutch sloop before mentioned that, notwithstanding its smallness, it has one fine river, and that the Dutch are there settled. Whether there be any natives on it or not I know not, nor what its produce is. They further said that the Ceramers were their mortal enemies; yet that they were settled on the westermost point of Ceram in spite of the natives. The next day as we approached the island Bouro there came off from it a very fragrant scent, much like that from King William's Island; and we found so strong a current setting to the westward that we could scarce stem it. We plied to get to the southward, intending to pass between Bouro and Keelang. In the evening, being near the west end of Bouro, we saw a brigantine to the north-west of us, on the north side of Bouro, standing to the eastward. I would not stand east or west for fear of coming nigh the land which was on each side of us, namely Bouro on the west, and Keelang on the east. The next morning we found ourselves in mid-channel between both islands; and having the wind at south-west we steered south-south-east, which is right through between both. At 11 o'clock it fell calm; and so continued till noon; by that time the brigantine which we saw astern the night before was got 2 or 3 leagues ahead of us. It is probable she met a strong land-wind in the evening which continued all night; she keeping nearer the shore than I could safely do. She might likewise have a tide or current setting easterly, where she was; though we had a tide setting northwardly against us, we being in mid-channel. About 8 at night the brigantine which we saw in the day came close along by us on our weather-side: our guns were all ready before night, matches lighted, and small arms on the quarter-deck ready loaded. She standing one way and we another; we soon got further asunder. But I kept good watch all the night and in the morning saw her astern of us, standing as we did. At 10 o'clock, having little wind, I sent the yawl aboard of her. She was a Chinese vessel laden with rice, arrack, tea, porcelain, and other commodities, bound for Amboina. The commander said that his boat was gone ashore for water, and asked our men if they saw her; for she had been wanting for 2 or 3 days, and they knew not what was become of her. They had their wives and children aboard, and probably came to settle at some new Dutch factory. The commander also informed us that the Dutch had lately settled at Ampoulo, Menippe, Bonao, and on a point of Ceram. The next day we passed out to the southward between Keelang and Bouro. After this we had for several days a current setting southerly, and a great tumbling sea, occasioned more by the strong current than by winds, as was apparent by the jumping of its waves against each other; and by observation I found 25 miles more southing than our course gave us. On the 14th we discovered the island Misacomba, and the next day sailed along to the west on the north side of the island. In some charts it is called Omba; it is a mountainous island, spotted with woods and savannahs; about 20 leagues long and 5 or 6 broad. We saw no signs of inhabitants on it. We fell in nearest to the west end of it; and therefore I chose to pass on to the westward, intending to get through to the southward between this and the next isle to the west of it, or between any other 2 islands to the west, where I should meet with the clearest passage; because the winds were now at north-east and east-north-east, and the isle lies nearly east and west; so that if the winds continued I might be a long time in getting to the east end of it, which yet I knew to be the best passage. In the night, being at the west end and seeing no clear passage, I stood off with an easy sail, and in the morning had a fine land-wind, which would have carried us 5 or 6 leagues to the east if we had made the best of it; but we kept on only with a gentle gale for fear of a westerly current. In the morning, finding we had not met with any current as we expected, as soon as it was light we made sail to the westward again. After noon, being near the end of the isle Pentare which lies west from Misacomba, we saw many houses and plantations in the country, and many coconut-trees growing by the seaside. We also saw several boats sailing across a bay or channel at the west end of Misacomba, between it and Pentare. We had but little wind, and that at north, which blows right in with a swell rolling in withal; wherefore I was afraid to venture in, though probably there might be good anchoring and a commerce with the natives. I continued steering to the west, because, the night before at sun-setting, I saw a small round high island to the west of Pentare, where I expected a good passage. THE PASSAGE BETWEEN PENTARE AND LAUBANA. We could not that day reach the west end of Pentare, but saw a deep bay to the west of us, where I thought might be a passage through, between Pentare and Laubana. But as yet the lands were shut one within another, that we could not see any passage. Therefore I ordered to sail 7 leagues more westerly, and lie by till next day. In the morning we looked out for an opening but could see none; yet by the distance and bearing of a high round island called Potoro, we were got to the west of the opening, but not far from it. Wherefore I tacked and stood to the east, and the rather, because I had reason to suppose this to be the passage we came through in the Cygnet mentioned in my Voyage round the World; but I was not yet sure of it because we had rainy weather, so that we could not now see the land so well as we did then. We then accidentally saw the opening at our first falling in with the islands; which now was a work of some time and difficul to discover. However before 10 o'clock we saw the opening plain; and I was the more confirmed in my knowledge of this passage by a spit of sand and 2 islands at the north-east part of its entrance. The wind was at south-south-west and we plied to get through before night; for we found a good tide helping us to the south. About 7 or 8 leagues to the west of us we saw a high round peaked mountain, from whose top a smoke seemed to ascend as from a volcano. There were 3 other very high peaked mountains, 2 on the east and one on the west of that which smoked. In our plying to get through between Pentare and Laubana we had (as I said) a good tide or current setting us to the southward. And it is to be observed that near the shores in these parts we commonly find a tide setting northwardly or southwardly as the land lies; but the northwardly tide sets not above 3 hours in 12, having little strength; and sometimes it only checks the contrary current which runs with great violence, especially in narrow passes such as this between 2 islands. It was 12 at night before we got clear of 2 other small islands that lay on the south side of the passage; and there we had a very violent tide setting us through against a brisk gale of wind. Notwithstanding which I kept the pinnace out, for fear we should be becalmed. For this is the same place through which I passed in the year 1687, mentioned in my Voyage round the World, only then we came out between the western small island and Laubana, and now we came through between the two small islands. We sounded frequently but had no ground. I said there that we came through between Omba and Pentare: for we did not then see the opening between those 2 islands; which made me take the west side of Pentare for the west end of Omba, and Laubana for Pentare. But now we saw the opening between Omba and Pentare; which was so narrow that I would not venture through: besides I had now discovered my mistake, and hoped to meet with the other passage again, as indeed we did, and found it to be bold from side to side, which in the former voyage I did not know. THE ISLAND TIMOR. After we were through we made the best of our way to Timor, and on May the 18th in the morning we saw it plain, and made the high land over Laphao the Portuguese factory, as also the high peak over our first watering-place, and a small round island about midway between them. We coasted along the island Timor, intending to touch at Babao, to get a little water and refreshments. I would not go into the bay where we first watered, because of the currents which there whirl about very strangely, especially at spring tides which were now setting in; besides, the south-east winds come down in flaws from the mountains, so that it would have been very dangerous for us. BABAO BAY. Wherefore we crowded all the sail we could to get to Babao before night, or at least to get sight of the sandy island at the entrance of the bay; but could not. So we plied all night; and the next morning entered the bay. There being good ground all over this bay we anchored at 2 o'clock in 30 fathom water, soft oazy ground. And the morning after I sent my boat ashore with the seine to fish. At noon she returned and brought enough for all the ship's company. They saw an Indian boat at a round rocky island about a mile from them. On the 22nd I sent my boat ashore again to fish: at noon she returned with a few fish, which served me and my officers. They caught one whiting, the first I had seen in these seas. Our people went over to the rocky island and there found several jars of turtle, and some hanging up a-drying, and some cloths; their boat was about a mile off, striking turtle. Our men left all as they found. In the afternoon a very large shark came under our stern; I never had seen any near so big before. I put a piece of meat on a hook for him but he went astern and returned no more. About midnight, the wind being pretty moderate, I weighed and stood into the bottom of the bay, and ran over nearer the south shore, where I thought to lie and water, and at convenient times get fish for our refreshment. The next morning I sent my pinnace with 2 hogsheads and 10 barrecoes for water; they returned at noon with the casks full of water; very thick and muddy, but sweet and good. We found variation 15 minutes west. THE ISLAND ROTI. This afternoon, finding that the breezes were set in here, and that it blew so hard that I could neither fish nor fill water without much difficulty and hazard of the boat; I resolved to be gone, having good quantity of water aboard. Accordingly at half an hour after 2 in the morning we weighed with the wind at east by south, and stood to sea. We coasted along by the island Roti which is high land, spotted with woods and savannahs. The trees appeared small and shrubby, and the savannahs dry and rusty. All the north side has sandy bays by the sea. We saw no houses nor plantations. MORE ISLANDS THAN ARE COMMONLY LAID DOWN IN THE CHARTS. GREAT CURRENTS. The next day we crowded all the sail we could to get to the west of all the isles before night but could not; for at 6 in the evening we saw land bearing south-west by west. For here are more islands than are laid down in any charts that I have seen. Wherefore I was obliged to make a more westerly course than I intended till I judged we might be clear of the land. And when we were so I could easily perceive by the ship's motion. For till then, being under the lee of the shore, we had smooth water; but now we had a troubled sea which made us dance lustily. This turbulent sea was occasioned in part by the current; which, setting out slanting against the wind, was by it raised into short cockling seas. I did indeed expect a south-west current here but not so very strong as we found it. On the 26th we continued to have a very strong current setting southwardly; but on what point exactly I know not. Our whole distance by log was but 82 miles, and our difference of latitude since yesterday noon by observation 100 miles, which is 18 miles more than the whole distance; and our course, allowing no leeway at all, was south 17 degrees west, which gives but 76 miles difference of latitude, 24 less than we found by observation. I did expect (as has been said) we might meet a great current setting to the south yesterday, because there is a constant current setting out from among those islands we passed through between Timor and the isles to the west of it, and it is probable, in all the other openings between the islands, even from the east end of Java to the end of all that range that runs from thence, both to the east and west of Timor; but, being got so far out to sea as we were, though there may be a very great current, yet it does not seem probable to me that it should be of so great strength as we now found: for both currents and tides lose their force in the open sea where they have room to spread; and it is only in narrow places or near headlands that their force is chiefly felt. Besides, in my opinion, it should here rather set to the west than south; being open to the narrow sea that divides New Holland from the range of islands before mentioned. The 27th we found that in the last 24 hours we had gone 9 miles less south than the log gave: so that it is probable we were then out of the southern current which we felt so much before. We saw many tropic-birds about us. And found variation 1 degree 25 minutes west. WHALES. On June the 1st we saw several whales, the first we had at this time seen on the coast: but when we were here before we saw many; at which time we were nearer the shore than now. The variation now was 5 degrees 38 minutes west. COAST OF NEW HOLLAND. I designed to have made New Holland in about the latitude of 20 degrees, and steered courses by day to make it, but in the night could not be so bold; especially since we had sounding. This afternoon I steered in south-west till 6 o'clock; then, it blowing fresh and night coming on, I steered west-south-west till we had 40 fathom; and then stood west, which course carries alongshore. In the morning again from 6 to 12 I steered west-south-west to have made the land but, not seeing it, I judged we were to the west of it. Here is very good soundings on this coast. When we passed this way to the eastward we had, near this latitude of 19 degrees 50 minutes 38 fathom, about 18 leagues from the land: but this time we saw not the land. The next morning I saw a great many scuttle-fish bones which was a sign that we were not far from the land. Also a great many weeds continually floating by us. We found the variation increase considerably as we went westward. For on the 3rd it was 6 degrees 10 minutes west; on the 4th, 6 degrees 20 minutes, and on the 6th, 7 degrees 20 minutes. That evening we saw some fowls like men-of-war-birds flying north-east, as I was told; for I did not see them, having been indisposed these 3 or 4 days. THE TRYAL ROCKS. On the 11th we found the variation 8 degrees 1 minute west; on the 12th, 6 degrees 0 minutes. I kept on my course to the westward till the 15th, and then altered it. My design was to seek for the Tryal Rocks; but, having been sick 5 or 6 days without any fresh provision or other good nourishment aboard, and seeing no likelihood of my recovery, I rather chose to go to some port in time than to beat here any longer; my people being very negligent when I was not upon deck myself; I found the winds variable, so that I might go any way, east, west, north, or south; wherefore it is probable I might have found the said rocks had not sickness prevented me; which discovery (whenever made) will be of great use to merchants trading to these parts. THE COAST OF JAVA. PRINCES ISLE. STRAITS OF SUNDA. THWART-THE-WAY ISLAND. From hence nothing material happened till we came upon the coast of Java. On the 23rd we saw Princes Isle plain, and the mouth of the Straits of Sunda. By my computation the distance between Timor and Princes Isle is 14 degrees 22 minutes. The next day in the afternoon, being abreast of Crockadore Island, I steered away east-north-east for an island that lies near midway between Sumatra and Java but nearest the Java shore; which is by Englishmen called Thwart-the-way. We had but small winds till about 3 o'clock when it freshened, and I was in good hopes to pass through before day: but at 9 o'clock the wind fell and we got but little. I was then abreast of Thwart-the-way, which is a pretty high long island; but before 11 the wind turned, and presently afterward it fell calm. I was then about 2 leagues from the said island; and, having a strong current against us, before day we were driven astern 4 or 5 leagues. In the morning we had the wind at north-north-west; it looked black and the wind unsettled: so that I could not expect to get through. I therefore stood toward the Java shore, and at 10 anchored in 24 fathom water, black oazy ground, 3 leagues from the shore. I sounded in the night when it was calm, and had 54 fathom, coarse sand and coral. INDIAN PROAS, AND THEIR TRAFFIC. In the afternoon before we had seen many proas; but none came off to us; and in the night we saw many fires ashore. This day a large proa came aboard of us, and lay by our side an hour. There were only 4 men in her, all Javians, who spoke the Malayan language. They asked if we were English; I answered we were; and presently one of them came aboard and presented me with a small hen, some eggs and coconuts; for which I gave some beads and a small looking-glass, and some glass bottles. They also gave me some sugarcane, which I distributed to such of my men as were scorbutic. They told me there were 3 English ships at Batavia. The 28th at 2 in the afternoon we anchored in 26 fathom water; presently it fell calm and began to rain very violently and so continued from 3 till 9 in the evening. At 1 in the morning we weighed with a fine land-wind at south-south-east; but presently, the wind coming about at east, we anchored; for we commonly found the current setting west. If at any time it turned it was so weak that it did us little good; and I did not think it safe to venture through without a pretty brisk leading gale; for the passage is but narrow, and I knew not what dangers might be in the way, nor how the tide sets in the narrow, having not been this way these 28 years, and all my people wholly strangers: we had the opening fair before us. PASSAGE THROUGH THE STRAIT. While we lay here 4 Malayan proas came from the shore, laden with coconuts, plantains, bananas, fowls, ducks, tobacco, sugar, etc. These were very welcome, and we purchased much refreshment of them. At 10 o'clock I dismissed all the boats, and weighed with the wind at north-west. At half an hour past 6 in the evening we anchored in 32 fathom water in a coarse sort of oaze. We were now past the island Thwart-the-way, but had still one of the small islands to pass. The tide began to run strong to the west; which obliged me to anchor while I had soundings, for fear of being driven back again or on some unknown sand. I lay still all night. At 5 o'clock the next morning the tide began to slacken: at 6 I weighed with the wind at south-east by east, a handsome breeze. We just weathered the Button; and, sounding several times, had still between 30 and 40 fathom. When we were abreast of the Button, and about 2 leagues from the westermost point of Java, we had 34 fathom, small peppery sand. You may either come between this island and Java, or, if the wind is northerly, run out between the island Thwart-the-way and this last small island. The wind for the most part being at east and east by south I was obliged to run over towards the Sumatra shore, sounding as I went, and had from 34 to 23 fathom. In the evening I sounded pretty quick, being got near the Sumatra shore; and, finding a current setting to the west between 8 and 9 o'clock, we anchored in 34 fathom. The tide set to the west from 7 in the evening to 7 this morning; and then, having a small gale at west-south-west, I weighed and stood over to the Java shore. In the evening, having the wind between east-north-east and south-east by east, we could not keep off the Java shore. Wherefore I anchored in 27 fathom water, about a league and a half off shore. At the same time we saw a ship at anchor near the shore, about 2 mile to leeward of us. We found the tide setting to the westward, and presently after we anchored it fell calm. We lay still all night and saw many fires ashore. At 5 the next morning, being July the 1st, we weighed and stood to the north for a seabreeze: at 10, the wind coming out, I tacked and had a fine brisk gale. The ship we saw at anchor weighed also and stood after us. While we passed by Pulo Baby I kept sounding and had no less than 14 fathom. The other ship, coming after us with all the sail she could make, I shortened sail on purpose that she might overtake us but she did not. A little after 5 I anchored in 13 fathom good oazy ground. About 7 in the evening the ship that followed us passed by close under our stern; she was a Dutch fly-boat; they told us they came directly from Holland, and had been in their passage six months. It was now dark, and the Dutch ship anchored within a mile of us. I ordered to look out sharp in the morning; that so soon as the Dutchman began to move we might be ready to follow him; for I intended to make him my pilot. In the morning at half an hour after 5 we weighed, the Dutchman being under sail before; and we stood directly after him. At 8, having but little wind, I sent my boat aboard of him to see what news he had brought from Europe. Soon after we spied a ship coming from the east, plying on a wind to speak with us, and showing English colours. I made a signal for my boat, and presently bore away towards her; and, being pretty nigh, the commander and supercargo came aboard, supposing we had been the Tuscany galley which was expected then at Batavia. This was a country ship belonging to Fort St. George, having come out from Batavia the day before, and bound to Bencola. The commander told me that the Fleet frigate was at anchor in Batavia Road, but would not stay there long: he told me also that His Majesty's ships commanded by Captain Warren were still in India, but he had been a great while from the coast and had not seen them. He gave me a chart of these straits from the Button and Cap to Batavia, and showed me the best way in thither. At 11 o'clock, it being calm, I anchored in 14 fathom good oazy ground. ARRIVAL AT BATAVIA. At 2 o'clock we weighed again; the Dutch ship being under sail before, standing close to Mansheters Island; but, finding he could not weather it, he tacked and stood off a little while, and then tacked again. In the meantime I stood pretty nigh the said island, sounding, but could not weather it. Then I tacked and stood off, and the Dutch stood in towards the island; and weathered it. I, being desirous to have room enough, stood off longer and then went about, having the Dutch ship 4 points under my lee. I kept after him; but as I came nearer the island I found a tide setting to the west, so that I could not weather it. Wherefore at 6 in the evening I anchored in 7 fathom oazy ground, about a mile from the island: the Dutch ship went about 2 miles further, and anchored also; and we both lay still all night. At 5 the next morning we weighed again, and the Dutch ship stood away between the island Cambusses and the main; but I could not follow because we had a land-wind. Wherefore I went without the Cambusses, and by noon we saw the ships that lay at the careening island near Batavia. After the land-wind was spent, which we had at south-east and south-south-east, the seabreeze came up at east. Then we went about; and, the wind coming afterward at east-north-east, we had a large wind to run us into Batavia Road: and at 4 in the afternoon we anchored in 6 fathom soft oaze. CHAPTER 6. HOME VOYAGE AND LOSS OF SHIP. THE AUTHOR CONTINUES IN BATAVIA ROAD TO REFIT, TO GET PROVISIONS. We found in Batavia Road a great many ships at anchor, most Dutch, and but one English ship named the Fleet frigate, commanded by one Merry. We rode a little without them all. Near the shore lay a stout China junk, and a great many small vessels, namely brigantines, sloops and Malayan proas in abundance. As soon as I anchored I sent my boat aboard the Fleet frigate with orders to make them strike their pennant, which was done soon after the boat went aboard. Then my clerk, whom I sent in the boat, went for the shore, as I had directed him, to see if the government would answer my salute: but it was now near night, and he had only time to speak with the ship-bander, who told him that the government would have answered my salute with the same number of guns if I had fired as soon as I anchored; but that now it was too late. In the evening my boat came aboard and the next morning I myself went ashore, visited the Dutch general, and desired the privilege of buying such provision and stores as I now wanted; which he granted me. I lay here till the 17th of October following, all which time we had very fair weather, some tornadoes excepted. In the meantime I supplied the carpenter with such stores as were necessary for refitting the ship; which proved more leaky after he had caulked her than she was before: so that I was obliged to careen her, for which purpose I hired vessels to take in our guns, ballast, provision and stores. ENGLISH SHIPS THEN IN THE ROAD. The English ships that arrived here from England were first the Liampo, commanded by Captain Monk, bound for China; next the Panther commanded by Captain Robinson; then the Mancel frigate, commanded by Captain Clerk. All these brought good tidings from England. Most of them had been unfortunate in their officers; especially Captain Robinson, who said that some of them had been conspiring to ruin him and his voyage. There came in also several English country vessels; first a sloop from Benjarr, commanded by one Russel, bound to Bengal, next the Monsoon, belonging to Bengal: she had been at Malacca at the same time that His Majesty's ship the Harwich was there: afterwards came in also another small ship from Bengal. While we stayed here all the forenamed English ships sailed hence; the 2 Bengal ships excepted. Many Dutch ships also came in here, and departed again before us. We had several reports concerning our men-of-war in India, and much talk concerning rovers who had committed several spoils upon the coast and in the Straits of Malacca. I did not hear of any ships sent out to quash them. At my first coming in I was told that 2 ships had been sent from Amboina in quest of me; which was lately confirmed by one of the skippers, whom I by accident met with here. He told me they had 3 protests against me; that they came to Pulo Sabuda on the coast of New Guinea 28 days after my departure thence, and went as far as Schouten's Island and, hearing no further news of me, returned. Something likewise to this purpose Mr. Merry, commander of the Fleet frigate, told me at my first arrival here; and that the general at Batavia had a copy of my commission and instructions; but I looked upon it as a very improbable thing. While we lay here the Dutch held several consultations about sending some ships for Europe sooner than ordinary: at last the 16th of October was agreed upon for the day of sailing, which is 2 months sooner than usual. They lay ready 2 or 3 days before, and went out on the 10th. Their names were the Ostresteen, bound to Zealand; the Vanheusen, for Enchiehoust; and the 3 Crowns, for Amsterdam, commanded by skipper Jacob Uncright, who was commodore over all the rest. I had by this time finished my business here, namely fitted the ship, recruited myself with provision, filled all my water; and, the time of the year to be going for Europe being now at hand, I prepared to be gone also. DEPARTURE FROM BATAVIA. Accordingly on the 17th of October, at half an hour after 6 in the morning, I weighed anchor from Batavia, having a good land-wind at south, and fair weather: and by the 19th at noon came up with the 3 Dutch ships before mentioned. The 29th of November in the morning we saw a small hawk flying about the ship till she was quite tired. Then she rested on the mizzen-topsail-yard, where we caught her. It is probable she was blown off from Madagascar by the violent northerly winds; that being the nighest land to us, though distance near 150 leagues. 1701. TOUCH AT THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE. The 30th December we arrived at the Cape of Good Hope and departed again on the 11th of January, 1701. About the end of the month we saw abundance of weeds or blubber swim by us, for I cannot determine which. It was all of one shape and colour. As they floated on the water they seemed to be of the breadth of the palm of a man's hand, spread out round into many branches about the bigness of a man's finger. They had in the middle a little knob, no bigger than the top of a man's thumb. They were of a smoke-colour; and the branches, by their pliantness in the water, seemed to be more simple than jellies, I have not seen the like before. AND AT ST. HELENA. The 2nd of February we anchored in St. Helena Road and set sail again from thence on the 13th. ARRIVAL AT THE ISLAND OF ASCENSION. A LEAK SPRUNG. On the 21st we made the island of Ascension and stood in towards it. The 22nd between 8 and 9 o'clock we sprung a leak which increased so that the chain-pump could not keep the ship free. Whereupon I set the hand-pump to work also, and by 10 o'clock sucked her: then wore the ship, and stood to the southward to try if that would ease her; and then the chain-pump just kept her free. At 5 the next morning we made sail and stood in for the bay; and at 9 anchored in 10 and a half fathom, sandy ground. The south point bore south-south-west distance 2 miles, and the north point of the bay north-east half north, distance 2 miles. As soon as we anchored I ordered the gunner to clear his powder-room that we might there search for the leak and endeavour to stop it within board if possible; for we could not heel the ship so low, it being within 4 streaks of the keel; neither was there any convenient place to haul her ashore. I ordered the boatswain to assist the gunner; and by 10 o'clock the powder-room was clear. The carpenter's mate, gunner, and boatswain went down; and soon after I followed them myself and asked them whether they could come at the leak: they said they believed they might, but cutting the ceiling; I told the carpenter's mate (who was the only person in the ship that understood anything of carpenter's work) that if he thought he could come at the leak by cutting the ceiling without weakening the ship he might do it, for he had stopped one leak so before; which though not so big as this, yet, having seen them both, I thought he might as well do this as the other. Wherefore I left him to do his best. The ceiling being cut, they could not come at the leak; for it was against one of the foot-hook-timbers which the carpenter's mate said he must first cut before it could be stopped. I went down again to see it, and found the water to come in very violently. I told them I never had known any such thing as cutting timbers to stop leaks; but if they who ought to be best judges in such cases thought they could do any good I bid them use their utmost care and diligence, promising the carpenter's mate that I would always be a friend to him if he could and would stop it: he said by 4 o'clock in the afternoon he would make all well, it being then about 11 in the forenoon. In the afternoon my men were all employed, pumping with both pumps; except such as assisted the carpenter's mate. About one in the afternoon I went down again and the carpenter's mate was cutting the after-part of the timber over the leak. Some said it was best to cut the timber away at once; I bid them hold their tongue and let the carpenter's mate alone; for he knew best and I hoped he would do his utmost to stop the leak. I desired him to get everything ready for stopping the violence of the water, before he cut any further; for fear it should overpower us at once. I had already ordered the carpenter to bring all the oakum he had, and the boatswain to bring all the waste cloths to stuff in upon occasion; and had for the same purpose sent down my own bedclothes. The carpenter's mate said he should want short stanchions to be placed so that the upper end should touch the deck, and the under-part rest on what was laid over the leak; and presently took a length for them. I asked the master-carpenter what he thought best to be done: he replied till the leak was all open, he could not tell. Then he went away to make a stanchion, but it was too long: I ordered him to make many of several lengths, that we might not want of any size. So once more desiring the carpenter's mate to use his utmost endeavours I went up, leaving the boatswain and some others there. About 5 o'clock the boatswain came to me and told me the leak was increased, and that it was impossible to keep the ship above water; when on the contrary I expected to have had the news of the leak's being stopped. I presently went down and found the timber cut away, but nothing in readiness to stop the force of the water from coming in. I asked them why they would cut the timber before they had got all things in readiness: the carpenter's mate answered they could do nothing till the timber was cut that he might take the dimensions of the place; and that there was a caulk which he had lined out, preparing by the carpenter's boy. I ordered them in the meantime to stop in oakum, and some pieces of beef; which accordingly was done, but all to little purpose: for now the water gashed in with such violence, notwithstanding all our endeavours to check it, that it flew in over the ceiling; and for want of passage out of the room overflowed it above 2 foot deep. I ordered the bulkhead be cut open, to give passage to the water that it might drain out of the room; and withal ordered to clear away abaft the bulkhead, that we might bail: so now we had both pumps going and as many bailing as could; and by this means the water began to decrease; which gave me some hope of saving the ship. I asked the carpenter's mate what he thought of it; he said "Fear not; for by 10 o'clock at night I'll engage to stop the leak." I went from him with a heavy heart; but, putting a good countenance upon the matter, encouraged my men, who pumped and bailed very briskly; and when I saw occasion I gave them some drams to comfort them. About 11 o'clock at night the boatswain came to me and told me that the leak still increased; and that the plank was so rotten it broke away like dirt; and that now it was impossible to save the ship; for they could not come at the leak because the water in the room was got above it. The rest of the night we spent in pumping and bailing. I worked myself to encourage my men, who were very diligent; but the water still increased, and we now thought of nothing but saving our lives. Wherefore I hoisted out the boat that, if the ship should sink, yet we might be saved: and in the morning we weighed our anchor and warped in nearer the shore; yet did but little good. WHICH BEING IMPOSSIBLE TO BE STOPPED, THE SHIP IS LOST, BUT THE MEN SAVED. In the afternoon with the help of a seabreeze I ran into 7 fathom and anchored; then carried a small anchor ashore and warped in till I came into 3 fathom and a half. Where having fastened her I made a raft to carry the men's chests and bedding ashore; and before 8 at night most of them were ashore. In the morning I ordered the sails to be unbent, to make tents; and then myself and officers went ashore. I had sent ashore a puncheon and a 36 gallon cask of water with one bag of rice for our common use: but great part of it was stolen away before I came ashore, and many of my books and papers lost. THEY FIND WATER UPON THE ISLAND. On the 26th following we, to our great comfort, found a spring of fresh water about 8 miles from our tents, beyond a very high mountain which we must pass over: so that now we were, by God's Providence, in a condition of subsisting some time; having plenty of very good turtle by our tents, and water for the fetching. The next day I went up to see the watering-place, accompanied with most of my officers. We lay by the way all night and next morning early got thither; where we found a very fine spring on the south-east side of the high mountain, about half a mile from its top: but the continual fogs make it so cold here that it is very unwholesome living by the water. Near this place are abundance of goats and land-crabs. About 2 mile south-east from the spring we found 3 or 4 shrubby trees, upon one of which was cut an anchor and cable, and the year 1642. About half a furlong from these we found a convenient place for sheltering men in any weather. Hither many of our men resorted; the hollow rocks affording convenient lodging; the goats, land-crabs, men-of-war-birds and boobies good food; and the air was here exceeding wholesome. AND ARE BROUGHT BACK TO ENGLAND. About a week after our coming ashore our men that lived at this new habitation saw two ships making towards the island. Before night they brought me the news; and I ordered them to turn about a score of turtle to be in readiness for their ships if they should touch here: but before morning they were out of sight, and the turtle were released again. Here we continued without seeing any other ship till the second of April; when we saw 11 sail to windward of the island: but they likewise passed by. The day after appeared 4 sail, which came to anchor in this bay. They were His Majesty's ships the Anglesey, Hastings and Lizard; and the Canterbury East India ship. I went on board the Anglesey with about 35 of my men; and the rest were disposed of into the other 2 men-of-war. We sailed from Ascension the 8th; and continued aboard till the 8th of May: at which time the men-of-war, having missed St. Jago, where they designed to water, bore away for Barbados: but I being desirous to get to England as soon as possible took my passage in the ship Canterbury, accompanied with my master, purser, gunner, and 3 of my superior officers. ... INDEX. Anabao Island: its inhabitants. Ascension Island: water found there. Babao in Timor. Batavia: arrival there. its road. English ships there. departure from thence. Bird Island. Birds, strange. Bonao Island. Bouro Island. Britain, New. Bird (strange) killed on the coast of New Guinea. Burning island. Burning island, another described. Calabash-trees. Calalaloo, herb. Cana-fistula-tree described. Cape Orford in New Guinea. Cape of Good Hope in New Guinea. Cave's, Anthony, Island. Cape, King William's. Cape and Port Gloucester. Cape Anne. Ceram Island described. Channel, a deep one. Ciccale, Port. Cockles, very big. Cockle-merchant, a fish. Cockle Island on the coast of New Guinea. Cupang Bay in Timor (see Kupang). Cross Island, discovered and described. Currents (see Tides). Distance between Cape Mabo and Cape St. George computed. Dutch: the author's parley with them. their suspicion of the author. Charts (Dutch), their falseness. Dutch fort called Concordia. Ende Island. Fetter Island. Figtrees of Timor described. Fish, strange. Fowls, strange. Gerrit Denis (Garret Dennis) Island, inhabitants described. Jelly found in the sea. George, St.: Cape and Bay in New Guinea. another bay. the inhabitants there. a large account of the author's attempt to trade with them. New Guinea coast: inhabitants. their manner of fishing. the author departs from New Guinea. Java Island. Indian plantation on the island Timor. Indian proas and their traffic. John's, St., Island. King William's Island. Laphao in Timor. Laubana Island. Leak sprung, incurable. Long Island described. Lorantuca. Mabo, Cape. Man-of-war-birds. Mansheter's Island. Matthias Island. Misacomba Island. Montague: Port in New Guinea. the country thereabouts described and its produce. New Guinea. Nova Britannia, (see New Britain). Omba Island. Palmtrees: a new one conjectured. a new one discovered. two sorts described. Parley with the Portuguese at Timor. Pentare Island. Pigeons, great numbers of them on the coast of New Guinea. Porta Nova. Providence Island. Princes Isle. Pulo Subada Isle. Pulo Baby. Return (the author's) to England. Rich's (Sir R.) Island. Ringing-bird. Rook's (Sir George) Island. Roti (Rotee) Island. Rosemary Island. Sago, how made. Sandal-tree. Schouten's Island. Sesial Port in Timor. Shark's Bay. Ship lost. Slingers Bay. Snakes: land-snakes. Spout. Squally Island. Sunda Straits. Terra Australis Incognita, what to be expected there. Thwart-the-way Island. Tides strange and uncertain, see Currents. Timor Island: described. the Dutch settlement. the Portuguese settlement. its inhabitants. its fruits and animals. trade. weather. the author's departure from it. Trees full of worms found in the sea. Tryal Rocks. Turtle Isles. Variation. Volcanoes. Watersnakes. Whales. Whirlpools. Wishart's Island. 
19139	----	THE BUCCANEERS IN THE WEST INDIES IN THE XVII CENTURY BY C.H. HARING WITH TEN MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS METHUEN & CO. LTD. 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. LONDON _First Published in 1910_ PREFACE The principal facts about the exploits of the English and French buccaneers of the seventeenth century in the West Indies are sufficiently well known to modern readers. The French Jesuit historians of the Antilles have left us many interesting details of their mode of life, and Exquemelin's history of the freebooters has been reprinted numerous times both in France and in England. Based upon these old, contemporary narratives, modern accounts are issued from the press with astonishing regularity, some of them purporting to be serious history, others appearing in the more popular and entertaining guise of romances. All, however, are alike in confining themselves for their information to what may almost be called the traditional sources--Exquemelin, the Jesuits, and perhaps a few narratives like those of Dampier and Wafer. To write another history of these privateers or pirates, for they have, unfortunately, more than once deserved that name, may seem a rather fruitless undertaking. It is justified only by the fact that there exist numerous other documents bearing upon the subject, documents which till now have been entirely neglected. Exquemelin has been reprinted, the story of the buccaneers has been re-told, yet no writer, whether editor or historian, has attempted to estimate the trustworthiness of the old tales by comparing them with these other sources, or to show the connection between the buccaneers and the history of the English colonies in the West Indies. The object of this volume, therefore, is not only to give a narrative, according to the most authentic, available sources, of the more brilliant exploits of these sea-rovers, but, what is of greater interest and importance, to trace the policy pursued toward them by the English and French Governments. The "Buccaneers in the West Indies" was presented as a thesis to the Board of Modern History of Oxford University in May 1909 to fulfil the requirements for the degree of Bachelor of Letters. It was written under the supervision of C.H. Firth, Regius Professor of Modern History in Oxford, and to him the writer owes a lasting debt of gratitude for his unfailing aid and sympathy during the course of preparation. C.H.H. Oxford, 1910 CONTENTS Preface CHAP. PAGE I. Introductory-- Part I.--The Spanish Colonial System 1 Part II.--The Freebooters of the Sixteenth Century 28 II. The Beginnings of the Buccaneers 57 III. The Conquest of Jamaica 85 IV. Tortuga, 1655-1664 113 V. Porto Bello and Panama 120 VI. The Government Suppresses the Buccaneers 200 VII. The Buccaneers Turn Pirate 232 Appendices 273-74 Bibliography 275 Index 289 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Map of the West Indies _Frontispiece_ From Charlevoix' _Histoire de S. Domingue_. FACING PAGE Spanish Periagua 1 From Exquemelin's _Histoire des Aventuriers Trevoux_, 1744. Buccaneer Vessels 76 From Exquemelin's _Histoire des Aventuriers Trevoux_, 1744. A Correct Map of Jamaica 85 From the _Royal Magazine_, 1760. Map of San Domingo 86 From Charlevoix' _Histoire de S. Domingue_. Plan of the Bay and Town of Portobelo 154 From Prevost d'Exiles' _Voyages_. The Isthmus of Darien 164 From Exquelmelin's _Bucaniers_, 1684-5. 'The Battel between the Spaniards and the pyrats or Buccaniers before the Citty of Panama' 166 From Exquemelin's _Bucaniers of America_, 1684-5. Plan of Vera-Cruz 242 From Charlevoix' _Histoire de S. Domingue_, 1730. Plan of the Town and Roadstead of Cartegena and of the Forts 264 From Baron de Pontis' _Relation de ce qui c'est fait la prise de Carthagene_, Bruxelles, 1698. THE BUCCANEERS IN THE WEST INDIES IN THE XVII CENTURY CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY I.--THE SPANISH COLONIAL SYSTEM At the time of the discovery of America the Spaniards, as M. Leroy-Beaulieu has remarked, were perhaps less fitted than any other nation of western Europe for the task of American colonization. Whatever may have been the political _rôle_ thrust upon them in the sixteenth century by the Hapsburg marriages, whatever certain historians may say of the grandeur and nobility of the Spanish national character, Spain was then neither rich nor populous, nor industrious. For centuries she had been called upon to wage a continuous warfare with the Moors, and during this time had not only found little leisure to cultivate the arts of peace, but had acquired a disdain for manual work which helped to mould her colonial administration and influenced all her subsequent history. And when the termination of the last of these wars left her mistress of a united Spain, and the exploitation of her own resources seemed to require all the energies she could muster, an entire new hemisphere was suddenly thrown open to her, and given into her hands by a papal decree to possess and populate. Already weakened by the exile of the most sober and industrious of her population, the Jews; drawn into a foreign policy for which she had neither the means nor the inclination; instituting at home an economic policy which was almost epileptic in its consequences, she found her strength dissipated, and gradually sank into a condition of economic and political impotence. Christopher Columbus, a Genoese sailor in the service of the Castilian Crown, wishing to find a western route by sea to India and especially to Zipangu (Japan), the magic land described by the Venetian traveller, Marco Polo, landed on 12th October 1492, on "Guanahani," one of the Bahama Islands. From "Guanahani" he passed on to other islands of the same group, and thence to Hispaniola, Tortuga and Cuba. Returning to Spain in March 1493, he sailed again in September of the same year with seventeen vessels and 1500 persons, and this time keeping farther to the south, sighted Porto Rico and some of the Lesser Antilles, founded a colony on Hispaniola, and discovered Jamaica in 1494. On a third voyage in 1498 he discovered Trinidad, and coasted along the shores of South America from the Orinoco River to the island of Margarita. After a fourth and last voyage in 1502-04, Columbus died at Valladolid in 1506, in the firm belief that he had discovered a part of the Continent of Asia. The entire circle of the Antilles having thus been revealed before the end of the fifteenth century, the Spaniards pushed forward to the continent. While Hojida, Vespucci, Pinzon and de Solis were exploring the eastern coast from La Plata to Yucatan, Ponce de Leon in 1512 discovered Florida, and in 1513 Vasco Nunez de Balboa descried the Pacific Ocean from the heights of Darien, revealing for the first time the existence of a new continent. In 1520 Magellan entered the Pacific through the strait which bears his name, and a year later was killed in one of the Philippine Islands. Within the next twenty years Cortez had conquered the realm of Montezuma, and Pizarro the empire of Peru; and thus within the space of two generations all of the West Indies, North America to California and the Carolinas, all of South America except Brazil, which the error of Cabral gave to the Portuguese, and in the east the Philippine Islands and New Guinea passed under the sway of the Crown of Castile. Ferdinand and Isabella in 1493 had consulted with several persons of eminent learning to find out whether it was necessary to obtain the investiture of the Pope for their newly-discovered possessions, and all were of opinion that this formality was unnecessary.[1] Nevertheless, on 3rd May 1493, a bull was granted by Pope Alexander VI., which divided the sovereignty of those parts of the world not possessed by any Christian prince between Spain and Portugal by a meridian line 100 leagues west of the Azores or of Cape Verde. Later Spanish writers made much of this papal gift; yet, as Georges Scelle points out,[2] it is possible that this bull was not so much a deed of conveyance, investing the Spaniards with the proprietorship of America, as it was an act of ecclesiastical jurisdiction according them, on the strength of their acquired right and proven Catholicism, a monopoly as it were in the propagation of the faith. At that time, even Catholic princes were no longer accustomed to seek the Pope's sanction when making a new conquest, and certainly in the domain of public law the Pope was not considered to have temporal jurisdiction over the entire world. He did, however, intervene in temporal matters when they directly influenced spiritual affairs, and of this the propagation of the faith was an instance. As the compromise between Spain and Portugal was very indecisive, owing to the difference in longitude of the Azores and Cape Verde, a second Act was signed on 7th June 1494, which placed the line of demarcation 270 leagues farther to the west. The colonization of the Spanish Indies, on its social and administrative side, presents a curious contrast. On the one hand we see the Spanish Crown, with high ideals of order and justice, of religious and political unity, extending to its ultramarine possessions its faith, its language, its laws and its administration; providing for the welfare of the aborigines with paternal solicitude; endeavouring to restrain and temper the passions of the conquerors; building churches and founding schools and monasteries; in a word, trying to make its colonies an integral part of the Spanish monarchy, "une société vieille dans une contrée neuve." Some Spanish writers, it is true, have exaggerated the virtues of their old colonial system; yet that system had excellences which we cannot afford to despise. If the Spanish kings had not choked their government with procrastination and routine; if they had only taken their task a bit less seriously and had not tried to apply too strictly to an empty continent the paternal administration of an older country; we might have been privileged to witness the development and operation of as complete and benign a system of colonial government as has been devised in modern times. The public initiative of the Spanish government, and the care with which it selected its colonists, compare very favourably with the opportunism of the English and the French, who colonized by chance private activity and sent the worst elements of their population, criminals and vagabonds, to people their new settlements across the sea. However much we may deprecate the treatment of the Indians by the _conquistadores_, we must not forget that the greater part of the population of Spanish America to-day is still Indian, and that no other colonizing people have succeeded like the Spaniards in assimilating and civilizing the natives. The code of laws which the Spaniards gradually evolved for the rule of their transmarine provinces, was, in spite of defects which are visible only to the larger experience of the present day, one of the wisest, most humane and best co-ordinated of any to this day published for any colony. Although the Spaniards had to deal with a large population of barbarous natives, the word "conquest" was suppressed in legislation as ill-sounding, "because the peace is to be sealed," they said, "not with the sound of arms, but with charity and good-will."[3] The actual results, however, of the social policy of the Spanish kings fell far below the ideals they had set for themselves. The monarchic spirit of the crown was so strong that it crushed every healthy, expansive tendency in the new countries. It burdened the colonies with a numerous, privileged nobility, who congregated mostly in the larger towns and set to the rest of the colonists a pernicious example of idleness and luxury. In its zeal for the propagation of the Faith, the Crown constituted a powerfully endowed Church, which, while it did splendid service in converting and civilizing the natives, engrossed much of the land in the form of mainmort, and filled the new world with thousands of idle, unproductive, and often licentious friars. With an innate distrust and fear of individual initiative, it gave virtual omnipotence to royal officials and excluded all creoles from public employment. In this fashion was transferred to America the crushing political and ecclesiastical absolutism of the mother country. Self-reliance and independence of thought or action on the part of the creoles was discouraged, divisions and factions among them were encouraged and educational opportunities restricted, and the American-born Spaniards gradually sank into idleness and lethargy, indifferent to all but childish honours and distinctions and petty local jealousies. To make matters worse, many of the Spaniards who crossed the seas to the American colonies came not to colonize, not to trade or cultivate the soil, so much as to extract from the natives a tribute of gold and silver. The Indians, instead of being protected and civilized, were only too often reduced to serfdom and confined to a laborious routine for which they had neither the aptitude nor the strength; while the government at home was too distant to interfere effectively in their behalf. Driven by cruel taskmasters they died by thousands from exhaustion and despair, and in some places entirely disappeared. The Crown of Castile, moreover, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries sought to extend Spanish commerce and monopolize all the treasure of the Indies by means of a rigid and complicated commercial system. Yet in the end it saw the trade of the New World pass into the hands of its rivals, its own marine reduced to a shadow of its former strength, its crews and its vessels supplied by merchants from foreign lands, and its riches diverted at their very source. This Spanish commercial system was based upon two distinct principles. One was the principle of colonial exclusivism, according to which all the trade of the colonies was to be reserved to the mother country. Spain on her side undertook to furnish the colonies with all they required, shipped upon Spanish vessels; the colonies in return were to produce nothing but raw materials and articles which did not compete with the home products with which they were to be exchanged. The second principle was the mercantile doctrine which, considering as wealth itself the precious metals which are but its symbol, laid down that money ought, by every means possible, to be imported and hoarded, never exported.[4] This latter theory, the fallacy of which has long been established, resulted in the endeavour of the Spanish Hapsburgs to conserve the wealth of the country, not by the encouragement of industry, but by the increase and complexity of imposts. The former doctrine, adopted by a non-producing country which was in no position to fulfil its part in the colonial compact, led to the most disastrous consequences. While the Spanish Crown was aiming to concentrate and monopolize its colonial commerce, the prosperity of Spain itself was slowly sapped by reason of these mistaken economic theories. Owing to the lack of workmen, the increase of imposts, and the prejudice against the mechanic arts, industry was being ruined; while the increased depopulation of the realm, the mainmort of ecclesiastical lands, the majorats of the nobility and the privileges of the Mesta, brought agriculture rapidly into decay. The Spaniards, consequently, could not export the products of their manufacture to the colonies, when they did not have enough to supply their own needs. To make up for this deficiency their merchants were driven to have recourse to foreigners, to whom they lent their names in order to elude a law which forbade commerce between the colonies and traders of other nations. In return for the manufactured articles of the English, Dutch and French, and of the great commercial cities like Genoa and Hamburg, they were obliged to give their own raw materials and the products of the Indies--wool, silks, wines and dried fruits, cochineal, dye-woods, indigo and leather, and finally, indeed, ingots of gold and silver. The trade in Spain thus in time became a mere passive machine. Already in 1545 it had been found impossible to furnish in less than six years the goods demanded by the merchants of Spanish America. At the end of the seventeenth century, foreigners were supplying five-sixths of the manufactures consumed in Spain itself, and engrossed nine-tenths of that American trade which the Spaniards had sought so carefully to monopolize.[5] In the colonies the most striking feature of Spanish economic policy was its wastefulness. After the conquest of the New World, it was to the interest of the Spaniards to gradually wean the native Indians from barbarism by teaching them the arts and sciences of Europe, to encourage such industries as were favoured by the soil, and to furnish the growing colonies with those articles which they could not produce themselves, and of which they stood in need. Only thus could they justify their monopoly of the markets of Spanish America. The same test, indeed, may be applied to every other nation which adopted the exclusivist system. Queen Isabella wished to carry out this policy, introduced into the newly-discovered islands wheat, the olive and the vine, and acclimatized many of the European domestic animals.[6] Her efforts, unfortunately, were not seconded by her successors, nor by the Spaniards who went to the Indies. In time the government itself, as well as the colonist, came to be concerned, not so much with the agricultural products of the Indies, but with the return of the precious metals. Natives were made to work the mines, while many regions adapted to agriculture, Guiana, Caracas and Buenos Ayres, were neglected, and the peopling of the colonies by Europeans was slow. The emperor, Charles V., did little to stem this tendency, but drifted along with the tide. Immigration was restricted to keep the colonies free from the contamination of heresy and of foreigners. The Spanish population was concentrated in cities, and the country divided into great estates granted by the crown to the families of the _conquistadores_ or to favourites at court. The immense areas of Peru, Buenos Ayres and Mexico were submitted to the most unjust and arbitrary regulations, with no object but to stifle growing industry and put them in absolute dependence upon the metropolis. It was forbidden to exercise the trades of dyer, fuller, weaver, shoemaker or hatter, and the natives were compelled to buy of the Spaniards even the stuffs they wore on their backs. Another ordinance prohibited the cultivation of the vine and the olive except in Peru and Chili, and even these provinces might not send their oil and wine to Panama, Gautemala or any other place which could be supplied from Spain.[7] To maintain the commercial monopoly, legitimate ports of entry in Spanish America were made few and far apart--for Mexico, Vera Cruz, for New Granada, the town of Cartagena. The islands and most of the other provinces were supplied by uncertain "vaisseaux de registre," while Peru and Chili, finding all direct commerce by the Pacific or South Sea interdicted, were obliged to resort to the fever-ridden town of Porto Bello, where the mortality was enormous and the prices increased tenfold. In Spain, likewise, the colonial commerce was restricted to one port--Seville. For in the estimation of the crown it was much more important to avoid being defrauded of its dues on import and export, than to permit the natural development of trade by those towns best fitted to acquire it. Another reason, prior in point of time perhaps, why Seville was chosen as the port for American trade, was that the Indies were regarded as the exclusive appanage of the crown of Castile, and of that realm Seville was then the chief mercantile city. It was not a suitable port, however, to be distinguished by so high a privilege. Only ships of less than 200 tons were able to cross the bar of San Lucar, and goods therefore had to be transhipped--a disability which was soon felt when traffic and vessels became heavier.[8] The fact, nevertheless, that the official organization called the _Casa dé Contratacion_ was seated in Seville, together with the influence of the vested interests of the merchants whose prosperity depended upon the retention of that city as the one port for Indian commerce, were sufficient to bear down all opposition. The maritime towns of Galicia and Asturia, inhabited by better seamen and stronger races, often protested, and sometimes succeeded in obtaining a small share of the lucrative trade.[9] But Seville retained its primacy until 1717, in which year the _Contratacion_ was transferred to Cadiz. The administration of the complex rules governing the commerce between Spain and her colonies was entrusted to two institutions located at Seville,--the _Casa de Contratacion_, mentioned above, and the _Consulado_. The _Casa de Contratacion_, founded by royal decree as early as 1503, was both a judicial tribunal and a house of commerce. Nothing might be sent to the Indies without its consent; nothing might be brought back and landed, either on the account of merchants or of the King himself, without its authorization. It received all the revenues accruing from the Indies, not only the imposts on commerce, but also all the taxes remitted by colonial officers. As a consultative body it had the right to propose directly to the King anything which it deemed necessary to the development and organization of American commerce; and as a tribunal it possessed an absolute competence over all crimes under the common law, and over all infractions of the ordinances governing the trade of the Indies, to the exclusion of every ordinary court. Its jurisdiction began at the moment the passengers and crews embarked and the goods were put on board, and ended only when the return voyage and disembarkation had been completed.[10] The civil jurisdiction of the _Casa_ was much more restricted and disputes purely commercial in character between the merchants were reserved to the _Consulado_, which was a tribunal of commerce chosen entirely by the merchants themselves. Appeals in certain cases might be carried to the Council of the Indies.[11] The first means adopted by the northern maritime nations to appropriate to themselves a share of the riches of the New World was open, semi-piratical attack upon the Spanish argosies returning from those distant El Dorados. The success of the Norman and Breton corsairs, for it was the French, not the English, who started the game, gradually forced upon the Spaniards, as a means of protection, the establishment of great merchant fleets sailing periodically at long intervals and accompanied by powerful convoys. During the first half of the sixteenth century any ship which had fulfilled the conditions required for engaging in American commerce was allowed to depart alone and at any time of the year. From about 1526, however, merchant vessels were ordered to sail together, and by a _cedula_ of July 1561, the system of fleets was made permanent and obligatory. This decree prohibited any ship from sailing alone to America from Cadiz or San Lucar on pain of forfeiture of ship and cargo.[12] Two fleets were organized each year, one for Terra Firma going to Cartagena and Porto Bello, the other designed for the port of San Juan d'Ulloa (Vera Cruz) in New Spain. The latter, called the Flota, was commanded by an "almirante," and sailed for Mexico in the early summer so as to avoid the hurricane season and the "northers" of the Mexican Gulf. The former was usually called the galeones (_anglice_ "galleons"), was commanded by a "general," and sailed from Spain earlier in the year, between January and March. If it departed in March, it usually wintered at Havana and returned with the Flota in the following spring. Sometimes the two fleets sailed together and separated at Guadaloupe, Deseada or another of the Leeward Islands.[13] The galleons generally consisted of from five to eight war-vessels carrying from forty to fifty guns, together with several smaller, faster boats called "pataches," and a fleet of merchantmen varying in number in different years. In the time of Philip II. often as many as forty ships supplied Cartagena and Porto Bello, but in succeeding reigns, although the population of the Indies was rapidly increasing, American commerce fell off so sadly that eight or ten were sufficient for all the trade of South and Central America. The general of the galleons, on his departure, received from the Council of the Indies three sealed packets. The first, opened at the Canaries, contained the name of the island in the West Indies at which the fleet was first to call. The second was unsealed after the galleons arrived at Cartagena, and contained instructions for the fleet to return in the same year or to winter in America. In the third, left unopened until the fleet had emerged from the Bahama Channel on the homeward voyage, were orders for the route to the Azores and the islands they should touch in passing, usually Corvo and Flores or Santa Maria.[14] The course of the galleons from San Lucar was south-west to Teneriffe on the African coast, and thence to the Grand Canary to call for provisions--considered in all a run of eight days. From the Canaries one of the pataches sailed on alone to Cartagena and Porto Bello, carrying letters and packets from the Court and announcing the coming of the fleet. If the two fleets sailed together, they steered south-west from the Canaries to about the latitude of Deseada, 15' 30", and then catching the Trade winds continued due west, rarely changing a sail until Deseada or one of the other West Indian islands was sighted. From Deseada the galleons steered an easy course to Cape de la Vela, and thence to Cartagena. When the galleons sailed from Spain alone, however, they entered the Caribbean Sea by the channel between Tobago and Trinidad, afterwards named the Galleons' Passage. Opposite Margarita a second patache left the fleet to visit the island and collect the royal revenues, although after the exhaustion of the pearl fisheries the island lost most of its importance. As the fleet advanced into regions where more security was felt, merchant ships too, which were intended to unload and trade on the coasts they were passing, detached themselves during the night and made for Caracas, Santa Marta or Maracaibo to get silver, cochineal, leather and cocoa. The Margarita patache, meanwhile, had sailed on to Cumana and Caracas to receive there the king's treasure, mostly paid in cocoa, the real currency of the country, and thence proceeded to Cartagena to rejoin the galleons.[15] The fleet reached Cartagena ordinarily about two months after its departure from Cadiz. On its arrival, the general forwarded the news to Porto Bello, together with the packets destined for the viceroy at Lima. From Porto Bello a courier hastened across the isthmus to the President of Panama, who spread the advice amongst the merchants in his jurisdiction, and, at the same time, sent a dispatch boat to Payta, in Peru. The general of the galleons, meanwhile, was also sending a courier overland to Lima, and another to Santa Fe, the capital of the interior province of New Granada, whence runners carried to Popagan, Antioquia, Mariguita, and adjacent provinces, the news of his arrival.[16] The galleons were instructed to remain at Cartagena only a month, but bribes from the merchants generally made it their interest to linger for fifty or sixty days. To Cartagena came the gold and emeralds of New Granada, the pearls of Margarita and Rancherias, and the indigo, tobacco, cocoa and other products of the Venezuelan coast. The merchants of Gautemala, likewise, shipped their commodities to Cartagena by way of Lake Nicaragua and the San Juan river, for they feared to send goods across the Gulf of Honduras to Havana, because of the French and English buccaneers hanging about Cape San Antonio.[17] Meanwhile the viceroy at Lima, on receipt of his letters, ordered the Armada of the South Sea to prepare to sail, and sent word south to Chili and throughout the province of Peru from Las Charcas to Quito, to forward the King's revenues for shipment to Panama. Within less than a fortnight all was in readiness. The Armada, carrying a considerable treasure, sailed from Callao and, touching at Payta, was joined by the Navio del Oro (golden ship), which carried the gold from the province of Quito and adjacent districts. While the galleons were approaching Porto Bello the South Sea fleet arrived before Panama, and the merchants of Chili and Peru began to transfer their merchandise on mules across the high back of the isthmus.[18] Then began the famous fair of Porto Bello.[19] The town, whose permanent population was very small and composed mostly of negroes and mulattos, was suddenly called upon to accommodate an enormous crowd of merchants, soldiers and seamen. Food and shelter were to be had only at extraordinary prices. When Thomas Gage was in Porto Bello in 1637 he was compelled to pay 120 crowns for a very small, meanly-furnished room for a fortnight. Merchants gave as much as 1000 crowns for a moderate-sized shop in which to sell their commodities. Owing to overcrowding, bad sanitation, and an extremely unhealthy climate, the place became an open grave, ready to swallow all who resorted there. In 1637, during the fifteen days that the galleons remained at Porto Bello, 500 men died of sickness. Meanwhile, day by day, the mule-trains from Panama were winding their way into the town. Gage in one day counted 200 mules laden with wedges of silver, which were unloaded in the market-place and permitted to lie about like heaps of stones in the streets, without causing any fear or suspicion of being lost.[20] While the treasure of the King of Spain was being transferred to the galleons in the harbour, the merchants were making their trade. There was little liberty, however, in commercial transactions, for the prices were fixed and published beforehand, and when negotiations began exchange was purely mechanical. The fair, which was supposed to be open for forty days, was, in later times, generally completed in ten or twelve. At the beginning of the eighteenth century the volume of business transacted was estimated to amount to thirty or forty million pounds sterling.[21] In view of the prevailing east wind in these regions, and the maze of reefs, cays and shoals extending far out to sea from the Mosquito Coast, the galleons, in making their course from Porto Bello to Havana, first sailed back to Cartagena upon the eastward coast eddy, so as to get well to windward of Nicaragua before attempting the passage through the Yucatan Channel.[22] The fleet anchored at Cartagena a second time for ten or twelve days, where it was rejoined by the patache of Margarita[23] and by the merchant ships which had been sent to trade in Terra-Firma. From Cartagena, too, the general sent dispatches to Spain and to Havana, giving the condition of the vessels, the state of trade, the day when he expected to sail, and the probable time of arrival.[24] For when the galleons were in the Indies all ports were closed by the Spaniards, for fear that precious information of the whereabouts of the fleet and of the value of its cargo might inconveniently leak out to their rivals. From Cartagena the course was north-west past Jamaica and the Caymans to the Isle of Pines, and thence round Capes Corrientes and San Antonio to Havana. The fleet generally required about eight days for the journey, and arrived at Havana late in the summer. Here the galleons refitted and revictualled, received tobacco, sugar, and other Cuban exports, and if not ordered to return with the Flota, sailed for Spain no later than the middle of September. The course for Spain was from Cuba through the Bahama Channel, north-east between the Virginian Capes and the Bermudas to about 38°, in order to recover the strong northerly winds, and then east to the Azores. In winter the galleons sometimes ran south of the Bermudas, and then slowly worked up to the higher latitude; but in this case they often either lost some ships on the Bermuda shoals, or to avoid these slipped too far south, were forced back into the West Indies and missed their voyage altogether.[25] At the Azores the general, falling in with his first intelligence from Spain, learned where on the coast of Europe or Africa he was to sight land; and finally, in the latter part of October or the beginning of November, he dropped anchor at San Lucar or in Cadiz harbour. The Flota or Mexican fleet, consisting in the seventeenth century of two galleons of 800 or 900 tons and from fifteen to twenty merchantmen, usually left Cadiz between June and July and wintered in America; but if it was to return with the galleons from Havana in September it sailed for the Indies as early as April. The course from Spain to the Indies was the same as for the fleet of Terra-Firma. From Deseada or Guadeloupe, however, the Flota steered north-west, passing Santa Cruz and Porto Rico on the north, and sighting the little isles of Mona and Saona, as far as the Bay of Neyba in Hispaniola, where the ships took on fresh wood and water.[26] Putting to sea again, and circling round Beata and Alta Vela, the fleet sighted in turn Cape Tiburon, Cape de Cruz, the Isle of Pines, and Capes Corrientes and San Antonio at the west end of Cuba. Meanwhile merchant ships had dropped away one by one, sailing to San Juan de Porto Rico, San Domingo, St. Jago de Cuba and even to Truxillo and Cavallos in Honduras, to carry orders from Spain to the governors, receive cargoes of leather, cocoa, etc., and rejoin the Flota at Havana. From Cape San Antonio to Vera Cruz there was an outside or winter route and an inside or summer route. The former lay north-west between the Alacranes and the Negrillos to the Mexican coast about sixteen leagues north of Vera Cruz, and then down before the wind into the desired haven. The summer track was much closer to the shore of Campeache, the fleet threading its way among the cays and shoals, and approaching Vera Cruz by a channel on the south-east. If the Flota sailed from Spain in July it generally arrived at Vera Cruz in the first fifteen days of September, and the ships were at once laid up until March, when the crews reassembled to careen and refit them. If the fleet was to return in the same year, however, the exports of New Spain and adjacent provinces, the goods from China and the Philippines carried across Mexico from the Pacific port of Acapulco, and the ten or twelve millions of treasure for the king, were at once put on board and the ships departed to join the galleons at Havana. Otherwise the fleet sailed from Vera Cruz in April, and as it lay dead to the leeward of Cuba, used the northerly winds to about 25°, then steered south-east and reached Havana in eighteen or twenty days. By the beginning of June it was ready to sail for Spain, where it arrived at the end of July, by the same course as that followed by the galleons.[27] We are accustomed to think of Spanish commerce with the Indies as being made solely by great fleets which sailed yearly from Seville or Cadiz to Mexico and the Isthmus of Darien. There were, however, always exceptions to this rule. When, as sometimes happened, the Flota did not sail, two ships of 600 or 700 tons were sent by the King of Spain to Vera Cruz to carry the quicksilver necessary for the mines. The metal was divided between New Spain and Peru by the viceroy at Mexico, who sent _via_ Gautemala the portion intended for the south. These ships, called "azogues," carried from 2000 to 2500 quintals[28] of silver, and sometimes convoyed six or seven merchant vessels. From time to time an isolated ship was also allowed to sail from Spain to Caracas with licence from the Council of the Indies and the _Contratacion_, paying the king a duty of five ducats on the ton. It was called the "register of Caracas," took the same route as the galleons, and returned with one of the fleets from Havana. Similar vessels traded at Maracaibo, in Porto Rico and at San Domingo, at Havana and Matanzas in Cuba and at Truxillo and Campeache.[29] There was always, moreover, a special traffic with Buenos Ayres. This port was opened to a limited trade in negroes in 1595. In 1602 permission was given to the inhabitants of La Plata to export for six years the products of their lands to other Spanish possessions, in exchange for goods of which they had need; and when in 1616 the colonists demanded an indefinite renewal of this privilege, the sop thrown to them was the bare right of trade to the amount of 100 tons every three years. Later in the century the Council of the Indies extended the period to five years, so as not to prejudice the trade of the galleons.[30] It was this commerce, which we have noticed at such length, that the buccaneers of the West Indies in the seventeenth century came to regard as their legitimate prey. These "corsarios Luteranos," as the Spaniards sometimes called them, scouring the coast of the Main from Venezuela to Cartagena, hovering about the broad channel between Cuba and Yucatan, or prowling in the Florida Straits, became the nightmare of Spanish seamen. Like a pack of terriers they hung upon the skirts of the great unwieldy fleets, ready to snap up any unfortunate vessel which a tempest or other accident had separated from its fellows. When Thomas Gage was sailing in the galleons from Porto Bello to Cartagena in 1637, four buccaneers hovering near them carried away two merchant-ships under cover of darkness. As the same fleet was departing from Havana, just outside the harbour two strange vessels appeared in their midst, and getting to the windward of them singled out a Spanish ship which had strayed a short distance from the rest, suddenly gave her a broadside and made her yield. The vessel was laden with sugar and other goods to the value of 80,000 crowns. The Spanish vice-admiral and two other galleons gave chase, but without success, for the wind was against them. The whole action lasted only half an hour.[31] The Spanish ships of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were notoriously clumsy and unseaworthy. With short keel and towering poop and forecastle they were an easy prey for the long, low, close-sailing sloops and barques of the buccaneers. But this was not their only weakness. Although the king expressly prohibited the loading of merchandise on the galleons except on the king's account, this rule was often broken for the private profit of the captain, the sailors, and even of the general. The men-of-war, indeed, were sometimes so embarrassed with goods and passengers that it was scarcely possible to defend them when attacked. The galleon which bore the general's flag had often as many as 700 souls, crew, marines and passengers, on board, and the same number were crowded upon those carrying the vice-admiral and the pilot. Ship-masters frequently hired guns, anchors, cables, and stores to make up the required equipment, and men to fill up the muster-rolls, against the time when the "visitadors" came on board to make their official inspection, getting rid of the stores and men immediately afterward. Merchant ships were armed with such feeble crews, owing to the excessive crowding, that it was all they could do to withstand the least spell of bad weather, let alone outman[oe]uvre a swift-sailing buccaneer.[32] By Spanish law strangers were forbidden to resort to, or reside in, the Indies without express permission of the king. By law, moreover, they might not trade with the Indies from Spain, either on their own account or through the intermediary of a Spaniard, and they were forbidden even to associate with those engaged in such a trade. Colonists were stringently enjoined from having anything to do with them. In 1569 an order was issued for the seizure of all goods sent to the colonies on the account of foreigners, and a royal _cedula_ of 1614 decreed the penalty of death and confiscation upon any who connived at the participation of foreigners in Spanish colonial commerce.[33] It was impossible, however, to maintain so complete an exclusion when the products of Spain fell far short of supplying the needs of the colonists. Foreign merchants were bound to have a hand in this traffic, and the Spanish government tried to recompense itself by imposing on the out-going cargoes tyrannical exactions called "indults." The results were fatal. Foreigners often eluded these impositions by interloping in the West Indies and in the South Sea.[34] And as the _Contratacion_, by fixing each year the nature and quantity of the goods to be shipped to the colonies, raised the price of merchandise at will and reaped enormous profits, the colonists welcomed this contraband trade as an opportunity of enriching themselves and adding to the comforts and luxuries of living. From the beginning of the seventeenth century as many as 200 ships sailed each year from Portugal with rich cargoes of silks, cloths and woollens intended for Spanish America.[35] The Portuguese bought these articles of the Flemish, English, and French, loaded them at Lisbon and Oporto, ran their vessels to Brazil and up the La Plata as far as navigation permitted, and then transported the goods overland through Paraguay and Tucuman to Potosi and even to Lima. The Spanish merchants of Peru kept factors in Brazil as well as in Spain, and as Portuguese imposts were not so excessive as those levied at Cadiz and Seville, the Portuguese could undersell their Spanish rivals. The frequent possession of Assientos by the Portuguese and Dutch in the first half of the seventeenth century also facilitated this contraband, for when carrying negroes from Africa to Hispaniola, Cuba and the towns on the Main, they profited by their opportunities to sell merchandise also, and generally without the least obstacle. Other nations in the seventeenth century were not slow to follow the same course; and two circumstances contributed to make that course easy. One was the great length of coast line on both the Atlantic and Pacific slopes over which a surveillance had to be exercised, making it difficult to catch the interlopers. The other was the venal connivance of the governors of the ports, who often tolerated and even encouraged the traffic on the plea that the colonists demanded it.[36] The subterfuges adopted by the interlopers were very simple. When a vessel wished to enter a Spanish port to trade, the captain, pretending that provisions had run low, or that the ship suffered from a leak or a broken mast, sent a polite note to the governor accompanied by a considerable gift. He generally obtained permission to enter, unload, and put the ship into a seaworthy condition. All the formalities were minutely observed. The unloaded goods were shut up in a storehouse, and the doors sealed. But there was always found another door unsealed, and by this they abstracted the goods during the night, and substituted coin or bars of gold and silver. When the vessel was repaired to the captain's satisfaction, it was reloaded and sailed away. There was also, especially on the shores of the Caribbean Sea, a less elaborate commerce called "sloop-trade," for it was usually managed by sloops which hovered near some secluded spot on the coast, often at the mouth of a river, and informed the inhabitants of their presence in the neighbourhood by firing a shot from a cannon. Sometimes a large ship filled with merchandise was stationed in a bay close at hand, and by means of these smaller craft made its trade with the colonists. The latter, generally in disguise, came off in canoes by night. The interlopers, however, were always on guard against such dangerous visitors, and never admitted more than a few at a time; for when the Spaniards found themselves stronger than the crew, and a favourable opportunity presented itself, they rarely failed to attempt the vessel. Thus the Spaniards of the seventeenth century, by persisting, both at home and in their colonies, in an economic policy which was fatally inconsistent with their powers and resources, saw their commerce gradually extinguished by the ships of the foreign interloper, and their tropical possessions fall a prey to marauding bands of half-piratical buccaneers. Although struggling under tremendous initial disabilities in Europe, they had attempted, upon the slender pleas of prior discovery and papal investiture, to reserve half the world to themselves. Without a marine, without maritime traditions, they sought to hold a colonial empire greater than any the world had yet seen, and comparable only with the empire of Great Britain three centuries later. By discouraging industry in Spain, and yet enforcing in the colonies an absolute commercial dependence on the home-country, by combining in their rule of distant America a solicitous paternalism with a restriction of initiative altogether disastrous in its consequences, the Spaniards succeeded in reducing their colonies to political impotence. And when, to make their grip the more firm, they evolved, as a method of outwitting the foreigner of his spoils, the system of great fleets and single ports of call, they found the very means they had contrived for their own safety to be the instrument of commercial disaster. II.--THE FREEBOOTERS OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY It was the French chronologist, Scaliger, who in the sixteenth century asserted, "nulli melius piraticam exercent quam Angli"; and although he had no need to cross the Channel to find men proficient in this primitive calling, the remark applies to the England of his time with a force which we to-day scarcely realise. Certainly the inveterate hostility with which the Englishman learned to regard the Spaniard in the latter half of the sixteenth and throughout the seventeenth centuries found its most remarkable expression in the exploits of the Elizabethan "sea-dogs" and of the buccaneers of a later period. The religious differences and political jealousies which grew out of the turmoil of the Reformation, and the moral anarchy incident to the dissolution of ancient religious institutions, were the motive causes for an outburst of piratical activity comparable only with the professional piracy of the Barbary States. Even as far back as the thirteenth century, indeed, lawless sea-rovers, mostly Bretons and Flemings, had infested the English Channel and the seas about Great Britain. In the sixteenth this mode of livelihood became the refuge for numerous young Englishmen, Catholic and Protestant, who, fleeing from the persecutions of Edward VI. and of Mary, sought refuge in French ports or in the recesses of the Irish coast, and became the leaders of wild roving bands living chiefly upon plunder. Among them during these persecutions were found many men belonging to the best families in England, and although with the accession of Elizabeth most of the leaders returned to the service of the State, the pirate crews remained at their old trade. The contagion spread, especially in the western counties, and great numbers of fishermen who found their old employment profitless were recruited into this new calling.[37] At the beginning of Elizabeth's reign we find these Anglo-Irish pirates venturing farther south, plundering treasure galleons off the coast of Spain, and cutting vessels out of the very ports of the Spanish king. Such outrages of course provoked reprisals, and the pirates, if caught, were sent to the galleys, rotted in the dungeons of the Inquisition, or, least of all, were burnt in the plaza at Valladolid. These cruelties only added fuel to a deadly hatred which was kindling between the two nations, a hatred which it took one hundred and fifty years to quench. The most venturesome of these sea-rovers, however, were soon attracted to a larger and more distant sphere of activity. Spain, as we have seen, was then endeavouring to reserve to herself in the western hemisphere an entire new world; and this at a time when the great northern maritime powers, France, England and Holland, were in the full tide of economic development, restless with new thoughts, hopes and ambitions, and keenly jealous of new commercial and industrial outlets. The famous Bull of Alexander VI. had provoked Francis I. to express a desire "to see the clause in Adam's will which entitled his brothers of Castile and Portugal to divide the New World between them," and very early the French corsairs had been encouraged to test the pretensions of the Spaniards by the time-honoured proofs of fire and steel. The English nation, however, in the first half of the sixteenth century, had not disputed with Spain her exclusive trade and dominion in those regions. The hardy mariners of the north were still indifferent to the wonders of a new continent awaiting their exploitation, and it was left to the Spaniards to unfold before the eyes of Europe the vast riches of America, and to found empires on the plateaus of Mexico and beyond the Andes. During the reign of Philip II. all this was changed. English privateers began to extend their operations westward, and to sap the very sources of Spanish wealth and power, while the wars which absorbed the attention of the Spaniards in Europe, from the revolt of the Low Countries to the Treaty of Westphalia, left the field clear for these ubiquitous sea-rovers. The maritime powers, although obliged by the theory of colonial exclusion to pretend to acquiesce in the Spaniard's claim to tropical America, secretly protected and supported their mariners who coursed those western seas. France and England were now jealous and fearful of Spanish predominance in Europe, and kept eyes obstinately fixed on the inexhaustible streams of gold and silver by means of which Spain was enabled to pay her armies and man her fleets. Queen Elizabeth, while she publicly excused or disavowed to Philip II. the outrages committed by Hawkins and Drake, blaming the turbulence of the times and promising to do her utmost to suppress the disorders, was secretly one of the principal shareholders in their enterprises. The policy of the marauders was simple. The treasure which oiled the machinery of Spanish policy came from the Indies where it was accumulated; hence there were only two means of obtaining possession of it:--bold raids on the ill-protected American continent, and the capture of vessels _en route_.[38] The counter policy of the Spaniards was also two-fold:--on the one hand, the establishment of commerce by means of annual fleets protected by a powerful convoy; on the other, the removal of the centres of population from the coasts to the interior of the country far from danger of attack.[39] The Spaniards in America, however, proved to be no match for the bold, intrepid mariners who disputed their supremacy. The descendants of the _Conquistadores_ had deteriorated sadly from the type of their forbears. Softened by tropical heats and a crude, uncultured luxury, they seem to have lost initiative and power of resistance. The disastrous commercial system of monopoly and centralization forced them to vegetate; while the policy of confining political office to native-born Spaniards denied any outlet to creole talent and energy. Moreover, the productive power and administrative abilities of the native-born Spaniards themselves were gradually being paralyzed and reduced to impotence under the crushing obligation of preserving and defending so unwieldy an empire and of managing such disproportionate riches, a task for which they had neither the aptitude nor the means.[40] Privateering in the West Indies may indeed be regarded as a challenge to the Spaniards of America, sunk in lethargy and living upon the credit of past glory and achievement, a challenge to prove their right to retain their dominion and extend their civilization and culture over half the world.[41] There were other motives which lay behind these piratical aggressions of the French and English in Spanish America. The Spaniards, ever since the days of the Dominican monk and bishop, Las Casas, had been reprobated as the heartless oppressors and murderers of the native Indians. The original owners of the soil had been dispossessed and reduced to slavery. In the West Indies, the great islands, Cuba and Hispaniola, were rendered desolate for want of inhabitants. Two great empires, Mexico and Peru, had been subdued by treachery, their kings murdered, and their people made to suffer a living death in the mines of Potosi and New Spain. Such was the Protestant Englishman's conception, in the sixteenth century, of the results of Spanish colonial policy. To avenge the blood of these innocent victims, and teach the true religion to the survivors, was to glorify the Church militant and strike a blow at Antichrist. Spain, moreover, in the eyes of the Puritans, was the lieutenant of Rome, the Scarlet Woman of the Apocalypse, who harried and burnt their Protestant brethren whenever she could lay hands upon them. That she was eager to repeat her ill-starred attempt of 1588 and introduce into the British Isles the accursed Inquisition was patent to everyone. Protestant England, therefore, filled with the enthusiasm and intolerance of a new faith, made no bones of despoiling the Spaniards, especially as the service of God was likely to be repaid with plunder. A pamphlet written by Dalby Thomas in 1690 expresses with tolerable accuracy the attitude of the average Englishman toward Spain during the previous century. He says:--"We will make a short reflection on the unaccountable negligence, or rather stupidity, of this nation, during the reigns of Henry VII., Henry VIII., Edward VI. and Queen Mary, who could contentedly sit still and see the Spanish rifle, plunder and bring home undisturbed, all the wealth of that golden world; and to suffer them with forts and castles to shut up the doors and entrances unto all the rich provinces of America, having not the least title or pretence of right beyond any other nation; except that of being by accident the first discoverer of some parts of it; where the unprecedented cruelties, exorbitances and barbarities, their own histories witness, they practised on a poor, naked and innocent people, which inhabited the islands, as well as upon those truly civilized and mighty empires of Peru and Mexico, called to all mankind for succour and relief against their outrageous avarice and horrid massacres.... (We) slept on until the ambitious Spaniard, by that inexhaustible spring of treasure, had corrupted most of the courts and senates of Europe, and had set on fire, by civil broils and discords, all our neighbour nations, or had subdued them to his yoke; contriving too to make us wear his chains and bear a share in the triumph of universal monarchy, not only projected but near accomplished, when Queen Elizabeth came to the crown ... and to the divided interests of Philip II. and Queen Elizabeth, in personal more than National concerns, we do owe that start of hers in letting loose upon him, and encouraging those daring adventurers, Drake, Hawkins, Rawleigh, the Lord Clifford and many other braves that age produced, who, by their privateering and bold undertaking (like those the buccaneers practise) now opened the way to our discoveries, and succeeding settlements in America."[42] On the 19th of November 1527, some Spaniards in a caravel loading cassava at the Isle of Mona, between Hispaniola and Porto Rico, sighted a strange vessel of about 250 tons well-armed with cannon, and believing it to be a ship from Spain sent a boat to make inquiries. The new-comers at the same time were seen to launch a pinnace carrying some twenty-five men, all armed with corselets and bows. As the two boats approached the Spaniards inquired the nationality of the strangers and were told that they were English. The story given by the English master was that his ship and another had been fitted out by the King of England and had sailed from London to discover the land of the Great Khan; that they had been separated in a great storm; that this ship afterwards ran into a sea of ice, and unable to get through, turned south, touched at Bacallaos (Newfoundland), where the pilot was killed by Indians, and sailing 400 leagues along the coast of "terra nueva" had found her way to this island of Porto Rico. The Englishmen offered to show their commission written in Latin and Romance, which the Spanish captain could not read; and after sojourning at the island for two days, they inquired for the route to Hispaniola and sailed away. On the evening of 25th November this same vessel appeared before the port of San Domingo, the capital of Hispaniola, where the master with ten or twelve sailors went ashore in a boat to ask leave to enter and trade. This they obtained, for the _alguazil mayor_ and two pilots were sent back with them to bring the ship into port. But early next morning, when they approached the shore, the Spanish _alcaide_, Francisco de Tapia, commanded a gun to be fired at the ship from the castle; whereupon the English, seeing the reception accorded them, sailed back to Porto Rico, there obtained some provisions in exchange for pewter and cloth, and departed for Europe, "where it is believed that they never arrived, for nothing is known of them." The _alcaide_, says Herrera, was imprisoned by the _oidores_, because he did not, instead of driving the ship away, allow her to enter the port, whence she could not have departed without the permission of the city and the fort.[43] This is the earliest record we possess of the appearance of an English ship in the waters of Spanish America. Others, however, soon followed. In 1530 William Hawkins, father of the famous John Hawkins, ventured in "a tall and goodly ship ... called the 'Polo of Plymouth,'" down to the coast of Guinea, trafficked with the natives for gold-dust and ivory, and then crossed the ocean to Brazil, "where he behaved himself so wisely with those savage people" that one of the kings of the country took ship with him to England and was presented to Henry VIII. at Whitehall.[44] The real occasion, however, for the appearance of foreign ships in Spanish-American waters was the new occupation of carrying negroes from the African coast to the Spanish colonies to be sold as slaves. The rapid depopulation of the Indies, and the really serious concern of the Spanish crown for the preservation of the indigenes, had compelled the Spanish government to permit the introduction of negro slaves from an early period. At first restricted to Christian slaves carried from Spain, after 1510 licences to take over a certain number, subject of course to governmental imposts, were given to private individuals; and in August 1518, owing to the incessant clamour of the colonists for more negroes, Laurent de Gouvenot, Governor of Bresa and one of the foreign favourites of Charles V., obtained the first regular contract to carry 4000 slaves directly from Africa to the West Indies.[45] With slight modifications the contract system became permanent, and with it, as a natural consequence, came contraband trade. Cargoes of negroes were frequently "run" from Africa by Spaniards and Portuguese, and as early as 1506 an order was issued to expel all contraband slaves from Hispaniola.[46] The supply never equalled the demand, however, and this explains why John Hawkins found it so profitable to carry ship-loads of blacks across from the Guinea coast, and why Spanish colonists could not resist the temptation to buy them, notwithstanding the stringent laws against trading with foreigners. The first voyage of John Hawkins was made in 1562-63. In conjunction with Thomas Hampton he fitted out three vessels and sailed for Sierra Leone. There he collected, "partly by the sword and partly by other means," some 300 negroes, and with this valuable human freight crossed the Atlantic to San Domingo in Hispaniola. Uncertain as to his reception, Hawkins on his arrival pretended that he had been driven in by foul weather, and was in need of provisions, but without ready money to pay for them. He therefore requested permission to sell "certain slaves he had with him." The opportunity was eagerly welcomed by the planters, and the governor, not thinking it necessary to construe his orders from home too stringently, allowed two-thirds of the cargo to be sold. As neither Hawkins nor the Spanish colonists anticipated any serious displeasure on the part of Philip II., the remaining 100 slaves were left as a deposit with the Council of the island. Hawkins invested the proceeds in a return cargo of hides, half of which he sent in Spanish vessels to Spain under the care of his partner, while he returned with the rest to England. The Spanish Government, however, was not going to sanction for a moment the intrusion of the English into the Indies. On Hampton's arrival at Cadiz his cargo was confiscated and he himself narrowly escaped the Inquisition. The slaves left in San Domingo were forfeited, and Hawkins, although he "cursed, threatened and implored," could not obtain a farthing for his lost hides and negroes. The only result of his demands was the dispatch of a peremptory order to the West Indies that no English vessel should be allowed under any pretext to trade there.[47] The second of the great Elizabethan sea-captains to beard the Spanish lion was Hawkins' friend and pupil, Francis Drake. In 1567 he accompanied Hawkins on his third expedition. With six ships, one of which was lent by the Queen herself, they sailed from Plymouth in October, picked up about 450 slaves on the Guinea coast, sighted Dominica in the West Indies in March, and coasted along the mainland of South America past Margarita and Cape de la Vela, carrying on a "tolerable good trade." Rio de la Hacha they stormed with 200 men, losing only two in the encounter; but they were scattered by a tempest near Cartagena and driven into the Gulf of Mexico, where, on 16th September, they entered the narrow port of S. Juan d'Ulloa or Vera Cruz. The next day the fleet of New Spain, consisting of thirteen large ships, appeared outside, and after an exchange of pledges of peace and amity with the English intruders, entered on the 20th. On the morning of the 24th, however, a fierce encounter was begun, and Hawkins and Drake, stubbornly defending themselves against tremendous odds, were glad to escape with two shattered vessels and the loss of £100,000 treasure. After a voyage of terrible suffering, Drake, in the "Judith," succeeded in reaching England on 20th January 1569, and Hawkins followed five days later.[48] Within a few years, however, Drake was away again, this time alone and with the sole, unblushing purpose of robbing the Dons. With only two ships and seventy-three men he prowled about the waters of the West Indies for almost a year, capturing and rifling Spanish vessels, plundering towns on the Main and intercepting convoys of treasure across the Isthmus of Darien. In 1577 he sailed on the voyage which carried him round the world, a feat for which he was knighted, promoted to the rank of admiral, and visited by the Queen on board his ship, the "Golden Hind." While Drake was being feted in London as the hero of the hour, Philip of Spain from his cell in the Escorial must have execrated these English sea-rovers whose visits brought ruin to his colonies and menaced the safety of his treasure galleons. In the autumn of 1585 Drake was again in command of a formidable armament intended against the West Indies. Supported by 2000 troops under General Carleill, and by Martin Frobisher and Francis Knollys in the fleet, he took and plundered San Domingo, and after occupying Cartagena for six weeks ransomed the city for 110,000 ducats. This fearless old Elizabethan sailed from Plymouth on his last voyage in August 1595. Though under the joint command of Drake and Hawkins, the expedition seemed doomed to disaster throughout its course. One vessel, the "Francis," fell into the hands of the Spaniards. While the fleet was passing through the Virgin Isles, Hawkins fell ill and died. A desperate attack was made on S. Juan de Porto Rico, but the English, after losing forty or fifty men, were compelled to retire. Drake then proceeded to the Main, where in turn he captured and plundered Rancherias, Rio de la Hacha, Santa Marta and Nombre de Dios. With 750 soldiers he made a bold attempt to cross the isthmus to the city of Panama, but turned back after the loss of eighty or ninety of his followers. A few days later, on 15th January 1596, he too fell ill, died on the 28th, and was buried in a leaden coffin off the coast of Darien.[49] Hawkins and Drake, however, were by no means the only English privateers of that century in American waters. Names like Oxenham, Grenville, Raleigh and Clifford, and others of lesser fame, such as Winter, Knollys and Barker, helped to swell the roll of these Elizabethan sea-rovers. To many a gallant sailor the Caribbean Sea was a happy hunting-ground where he might indulge at his pleasure any propensities to lawless adventure. If in 1588 he had helped to scatter the Invincible Armada, he now pillaged treasure ships on the coasts of the Spanish Main; if he had been with Drake to flout his Catholic Majesty at Cadiz, he now closed with the Spaniards within their distant cities beyond the seas. Thus he lined his own pockets with Spanish doubloons, and incidentally curbed Philip's power of invading England. Nor must we think these mariners the same as the lawless buccaneers of a later period. The men of this generation were of a sterner and more fanatical mould, men who for their wildest acts often claimed the sanction of religious convictions. Whether they carried off the heathen from Africa, or plundered the fleets of Romish Spain, they were but entering upon "the heritage of the saints." Judged by the standards of our own century they were pirates and freebooters, but in the eyes of their fellow-countrymen their attacks upon the Spaniards seemed fair and honourable. The last of the great privateering voyages for which Drake had set the example was the armament which Lord George Clifford, Earl of Cumberland, sent against Porto Rico in 1598. The ill-starred expeditions of Raleigh to Guiana in 1595 and again in 1617 belong rather to the history of exploration and colonization. Clifford, "courtier, gambler and buccaneer," having run through a great part of his very considerable fortune, had seized the opportunity offered him by the plunder of the Spanish colonies to re-coup himself; and during a period of twelve years, from 1586 to 1598, almost every year fitted out, and often himself commanded, an expedition against the Spaniards. In his last and most ambitious effort, in 1598, he equipped twenty vessels entirely at his own cost, sailed from Plymouth in March, and on 6th June laid siege to the city of San Juan, which he proposed to clear of Spaniards and establish as an English stronghold. Although the place was captured, the expedition proved a fiasco. A violent sickness broke out among the troops, and as Clifford had already sailed away with some of the ships to Flores to lie in wait for the treasure fleet, Sir Thomas Berkeley, who was left in command in Porto Rico, abandoned the island and returned to rejoin the Earl.[50] The English in the sixteenth century, however, had no monopoly of this piratical game. The French did something in their own way, and the Dutch were not far behind. Indeed, the French may claim to have set the example for the Elizabethan freebooters, for in the first half of the sixteenth century privateers flocked to the Spanish Indies from Dieppe, Brest and the towns of the Basque coast. The gleam of the golden lingots of Peru, and the pale lights of the emeralds from the mountains of New Granada, exercised a hypnotic influence not only on ordinary seamen but on merchants and on seigneurs with depleted fortunes. Names like Jean Terrier, Jacques Sore and François le Clerc, the latter popularly called "Pie de Palo," or "wooden-leg," by the Spaniards, were as detestable in Spanish ears as those of the great English captains. Even before 1500 French corsairs hovered about Cape St Vincent and among the Azores and the Canaries; and their prowess and audacity were so feared that Columbus, on returning from his third voyage in 1498, declared that he had sailed for the island of Madeira by a new route to avoid meeting a French fleet which was awaiting him near St Vincent.[51] With the establishment of the system of armed convoys, however, and the presence of Spanish fleets on the coast of Europe, the corsairs suffered some painful reverses which impelled them to transfer their operations to American waters. Thereafter Spanish records are full of references to attacks by Frenchmen on Havana, St. Jago de Cuba, San Domingo and towns on the mainland of South and Central America; full of appeals, too, from the colonies to the neglectful authorities in Spain, urging them to send artillery, cruisers and munitions of war for their defence.[52] A letter dated 8th April 1537, written by Gonzalo de Guzman to the Empress, furnishes us with some interesting details of the exploits of an anonymous French corsair in that year. In November 1536 this Frenchman had seized in the port of Chagre, on the Isthmus of Darien, a Spanish vessel laden with horses from San Domingo, had cast the cargo into the sea, put the crew on shore and sailed away with his prize. A month or two later he appeared off the coast of Havana and dropped anchor in a small bay a few leagues from the city. As there were then five Spanish ships lying in the harbour, the inhabitants compelled the captains to attempt the seizure of the pirate, promising to pay for the ships if they were lost. Three vessels of 200 tons each sailed out to the attack, and for several days they fired at the French corsair, which, being a patache of light draught, had run up the bay beyond their reach. Finally one morning the Frenchmen were seen pressing with both sail and oar to escape from the port. A Spanish vessel cut her cables to follow in pursuit, but encountering a heavy sea and contrary winds was abandoned by her crew, who made for shore in boats. The other two Spanish ships were deserted in similar fashion, whereupon the French, observing this new turn of affairs, re-entered the bay and easily recovered the three drifting vessels. Two of the prizes they burnt, and arming the third sailed away to cruise in the Florida straits, in the route of ships returning from the West Indies to Spain.[53] The corsairs, however, were not always so uniformly successful. A band of eighty, who attempted to plunder the town of St. Jago de Cuba, were repulsed with some loss by a certain Diego Perez of Seville, captain of an armed merchant ship then in the harbour, who later petitioned for the grant of a coat-of-arms in recognition of his services.[54] In October 1544 six French vessels attacked the town of Santa Maria de los Remedios, near Cape de la Vela, but failed to take it in face of the stubborn resistance of the inhabitants. Yet the latter a few months earlier had been unable to preserve their homes from pillage, and had been obliged to flee to La Granjeria de las Perlas on the Rio de la Hacha.[55] There is small wonder, indeed, that the defenders were so rarely victorious. The Spanish towns were ill-provided with forts and guns, and often entirely without ammunition or any regular soldiers. The distance between the settlements as a rule was great, and the inhabitants, as soon as informed of the presence of the enemy, knowing that they had no means of resistance and little hope of succour, left their homes to the mercy of the freebooters and fled to the hills and woods with their families and most precious belongings. Thus when, in October 1554, another band of three hundred French privateers swooped down upon the unfortunate town of St. Jago de Cuba, they were able to hold it for thirty days, and plundered it to the value of 80,000 pieces of eight.[56] The following year, however, witnessed an even more remarkable action. In July 1555 the celebrated captain, Jacques Sore, landed two hundred men from a caravel a half-league from the city of Havana, and before daybreak marched on the town and forced the surrender of the castle. The Spanish governor had time to retire to the country, where he gathered a small force of Spaniards and negroes, and returned to surprise the French by night. Fifteen or sixteen of the latter were killed, and Sore, who himself was wounded, in a rage gave orders for the massacre of all the prisoners. He burned the cathedral and the hospital, pillaged the houses and razed most of the city to the ground. After transferring all the artillery to his vessel, he made several forays into the country, burned a few plantations, and finally sailed away in the beginning of August. No record remains of the amount of the booty, but it must have been enormous. To fill the cup of bitterness for the poor inhabitants, on 4th October there appeared on the coast another French ship, which had learned of Sore's visit and of the helpless state of the Spaniards. Several hundred men disembarked, sacked a few plantations neglected by their predecessors, tore down or burned the houses which the Spaniards had begun to rebuild, and seized a caravel loaded with leather which had recently entered the harbour.[57] It is true that during these years there was almost constant war in Europe between the Emperor and France; yet this does not entirely explain the activity of the French privateers in Spanish America, for we find them busy there in the years when peace reigned at home. Once unleash the sea-dogs and it was extremely difficult to bring them again under restraint. With the seventeenth century began a new era in the history of the West Indies. If in the sixteenth the English, French and Dutch came to tropical America as piratical intruders into seas and countries which belonged to others, in the following century they came as permanent colonisers and settlers. The Spaniards, who had explored the whole ring of the West Indian islands before 1500, from the beginning neglected the lesser for the larger Antilles--Cuba, Hispaniola, Porto Rico and Jamaica--and for those islands like Trinidad, which lie close to the mainland. And when in 1519 Cortez sailed from Cuba for the conquest of Mexico, and twelve years later Pizarro entered Peru, the emigrants who left Spain to seek their fortunes in the New World flocked to the vast territories which the _Conquistadores_ and their lieutenants had subdued on the Continent. It was consequently to the smaller islands which compose the Leeward and Windward groups that the English, French and Dutch first resorted as colonists. Small, and therefore "easy to settle, easy to depopulate and to re-people, attractive not only on account of their own wealth, but also as a starting-point for the vast and rich continent off which they lie," these islands became the pawns in a game of diplomacy and colonization which continued for 150 years. In the seventeenth century, moreover, the Spanish monarchy was declining rapidly both in power and prestige, and its empire, though still formidable, no longer overshadowed the other nations of Europe as in the days of Charles V. and Philip II. France, with the Bourbons on the throne, was entering upon an era of rapid expansion at home and abroad, while the Dutch, by the truce of 1609, virtually obtained the freedom for which they had struggled so long. In England Queen Elizabeth had died in 1603, and her Stuart successor exchanged her policy of dalliance, of balance between France and Spain, for one of peace and conciliation. The aristocratic free-booters who had enriched themselves by harassing the Spanish Indies were succeeded by a less romantic but more business-like generation, which devoted itself to trade and planting. Abortive attempts at colonization had been made in the sixteenth century. The Dutch, who were trading in the West Indies as early as 1542, by 1580 seem to have gained some foothold in Guiana;[58] and the French Huguenots, under the patronage of the Admiral de Coligny, made three unsuccessful efforts to form settlements on the American continent, one in Brazil in 1555, another near Port Royal in South Carolina in 1562, and two years later a third on the St. John's River in Florida. The only English effort in the sixteenth century was the vain attempt of Sir Walter Raleigh between 1585 and 1590 to plant a colony on Roanoke Island, on the coast of what is now North Carolina. It was not till 1607 that the first permanent English settlement in America was made at Jamestown in Virginia. Between 1609 and 1619 numerous stations were established by English, Dutch and French in Guiana between the mouth of the Orinoco and that of the Amazon. In 1621 the Dutch West India Company was incorporated, and a few years later proposals for a similar company were broached in England. Among the West Indian Islands, St. Kitts received its first English settlers in 1623; and two years later the island was formally divided with the French, thus becoming the earliest nucleus of English and French colonization in those regions. Barbadoes was colonized in 1624-25. In 1628 English settlers from St. Kitts spread to Nevis and Barbuda, and within another four years to Antigua and Montserrat; while as early as 1625 English and Dutch took joint possession of Santa Cruz. The founders of the French settlement on St. Kitts induced Richelieu to incorporate a French West India Company with the title, "The Company of the Isles of America," and under its auspices Guadeloupe, Martinique and other islands of the Windward group were colonized in 1635 and succeeding years. Meanwhile between 1632 and 1634 the Dutch had established trading stations on St. Eustatius in the north, and on Tobago and Curaçao in the south near the Spanish mainland. While these centres of trade and population were being formed in the very heart of the Spanish seas, the privateers were not altogether idle. To the treaty of Vervins between France and Spain in 1598 had been added a secret restrictive article whereby it was agreed that the peace should not hold good south of the Tropic of Cancer and west of the meridian of the Azores. Beyond these two lines (called "les lignes de l'enclos des Amitiés") French and Spanish ships might attack each other and take fair prize as in open war. The ministers of Henry IV. communicated this restriction verbally to the merchants of the ports, and soon private men-of-war from Dieppe, Havre and St. Malo flocked to the western seas.[59] Ships loaded with contraband goods no longer sailed for the Indies unless armed ready to engage all comers, and many ship-captains renounced trade altogether for the more profitable and exciting occupation of privateering. In the early years of the seventeenth century, moreover, Dutch fleets harassed the coasts of Chile and Peru,[60] while in Brazil[61] and the West Indies a second "Pie de Palo," this time the Dutch admiral, Piet Heyn, was proving a scourge to the Spaniards. Heyn was employed by the Dutch West India Company, which from the year 1623 onwards, carried the Spanish war into the transmarine possessions of Spain and Portugal. With a fleet composed of twenty-six ships and 3300 men, of which he was vice-admiral, he greatly distinguished himself at the capture of Bahia, the seat of Portuguese power in Brazil. Similar expeditions were sent out annually, and brought back the rich spoils of the South American colonies. Within two years the extraordinary number of eighty ships, with 1500 cannon and over 9000 sailors and soldiers, were despatched to American seas, and although Bahia was soon retaken, the Dutch for a time occupied Pernambuco, as well as San Juan de Porto Rico in the West Indies.[62] In 1628 Piet Heyn was in command of a squadron designed to intercept the plate fleet which sailed every year from Vera Cruz to Spain. With thirty-one ships, 700 cannon and nearly 3000 men he cruised along the northern coast of Cuba, and on 8th September fell in with his quarry near Cape San Antonio. The Spaniards made a running fight along the coast until they reached the Matanzas River near Havana, into which they turned with the object of running the great-bellied galleons aground and escaping with what treasure they could. The Dutch followed, however, and most of the rich cargo was diverted into the coffers of the Dutch West India Company. The gold, silver, indigo, sugar and logwood were sold in the Netherlands for fifteen million guilders, and the company was enabled to distribute to its shareholders the unprecedented dividend of 50 per cent. It was an exploit which two generations of English mariners had attempted in vain, and the unfortunate Spanish general, Don Juan de Benavides, on his return to Spain was imprisoned for his defeat and later beheaded.[63] In 1639 we find the Spanish Council of War for the Indies conferring with the King on measures to be taken against English piratical ships in the Caribbean;[64] and in 1642 Captain William Jackson, provided with an ample commission from the Earl of Warwick[65] and duplicates under the Great Seal, made a raid in which he emulated the exploits of Sir Francis Drake and his contemporaries. Starting out with three ships and about 1100 men, mostly picked up in St. Kitts and Barbadoes, he cruised along the Main from Caracas to Honduras and plundered the towns of Maracaibo and Truxillo. On 25th March 1643 he dropped anchor in what is now Kingston Harbour in Jamaica, landed about 500 men, and after some sharp fighting and the loss of forty of his followers, entered the town of St. Jago de la Vega, which he ransomed for 200 beeves, 10,000 lbs. of cassava bread and 7000 pieces of eight. Many of the English were so captivated by the beauty and fertility of the island that twenty-three deserted in one night to the Spaniards.[66] The first two Stuart Kings, like the great Queen who preceded them, and in spite of the presence of a powerful Spanish faction at the English Court, looked upon the Indies with envious eyes, as a source of perennial wealth to whichever nation could secure them. James I., to be sure, was a man of peace, and soon after his accession patched up a treaty with the Spaniards; but he had no intention of giving up any English claims, however shadowy they might be, to America. Cornwallis, the new ambassador at Madrid, from a vantage ground where he could easily see the financial and administrative confusion into which Spain, in spite of her colonial wealth, had fallen, was most dissatisfied with the treaty. In a letter to Cranborne, dated 2nd July 1605, he suggested that England never lost so great an opportunity of winning honour and wealth as by relinquishing the war with Spain, and that Philip and his kingdom "were reduced to such a state as they could not in all likelihood have endured for the space of two years more."[67] This opinion we find repeated in his letters in the following years, with covert hints that an attack upon the Indies might after all be the most profitable and politic thing to do. When, in October 1607, Zuniga, the Spanish ambassador in London, complained to James of the establishment of the new colony in Virginia, James replied that Virginia was land discovered by the English and therefore not within the jurisdiction of Philip; and a week later Salisbury, while confiding to Zuniga that he thought the English might not justly go to Virginia, still refused to prohibit their going or command their return, for it would be an acknowledgment, he said, that the King of Spain was lord of all the Indies.[68] In 1609, in the truce concluded between Spain and the Netherlands, one of the stipulations provided that for nine years the Dutch were to be free to trade in all places in the East and West Indies except those in actual possession of the Spaniards on the date of cessation of hostilities; and thereafter the English and French governments endeavoured with all the more persistence to obtain a similar privilege. Attorney-General Heath, in 1625, presented a memorial to the Crown on the advantages derived by the Spaniards and Dutch in the West Indies, maintaining that it was neither safe nor profitable for them to be absolute lords of those regions; and he suggested that his Majesty openly interpose or permit it to be done underhand.[69] In September 1637 proposals were renewed in England for a West India Company as the only method of obtaining a share in the wealth of America. It was suggested that some convenient port be seized as a safe retreat from which to plunder Spanish trade on land and sea, and that the officers of the company be empowered to conquer and occupy any part of the West Indies, build ships, levy soldiers and munitions of war, and make reprisals.[70] The temper of Englishmen at this time was again illustrated in 1640 when the Spanish ambassador, Alonzo de Cardenas, protested to Charles I. against certain ships which the Earls of Warwick and Marlborough were sending to the West Indies with the intention, Cardenas declared, of committing hostilities against the Spaniards. The Earl of Warwick, it seems, pretended to have received great injuries from the latter and threatened to recoup his losses at their expense. He procured from the king a broad commission which gave him the right to trade in the West Indies, and to "offend" such as opposed him. Under shelter of this commission the Earl of Marlborough was now going to sea with three or four armed ships, and Cardenas prayed the king to restrain him until he gave security not to commit any acts of violence against the Spanish nation. The petition was referred to a committee of the Lords, who concluded that as the peace had never been strictly observed by either nation in the Indies they would not demand any security of the Earl. "Whether the Spaniards will think this reasonable or not," concludes Secretary Windebank in his letter to Sir Arthur Hopton, "is no great matter."[71] During this century and a half between 1500 and 1650, the Spaniards were by no means passive or indifferent to the attacks made upon their authority and prestige in the New World. The hostility of the mariners from the north they repaid with interest, and woe to the foreign interloper or privateer who fell into their clutches. When Henry II. of France in 1557 issued an order that Spanish prisoners be condemned to the galleys, the Spanish government retaliated by commanding its sea-captains to mete out the same treatment to their French captives, except that captains, masters and officers taken in the navigation of the Indies were to be hung or cast into the sea.[72] In December 1600 the governor of Cumana had suggested to the King, as a means of keeping Dutch and English ships from the salt mines of Araya, the ingenious scheme of poisoning the salt. This advice, it seems, was not followed, but a few years later, in 1605, a Spanish fleet of fourteen galleons sent from Lisbon surprised and burnt nineteen Dutch vessels found loading salt at Araya, and murdered most of the prisoners.[73] In December 1604 the Venetian ambassador in London wrote of "news that the Spanish in the West Indies captured two English vessels, cut off the hands, feet, noses and ears of the crews and smeared them with honey and tied them to trees to be tortured by flies and other insects. The Spanish here plead," he continued, "that they were pirates, not merchants, and that they did not know of the peace. But the barbarity makes people here cry out."[74] On 22nd June 1606, Edmondes, the English Ambassador at Brussels, in a letter to Cornwallis, speaks of a London ship which was sent to trade in Virginia, and putting into a river in Florida to obtain water, was surprised there by Spanish vessels from Havana, the men ill-treated and the cargo confiscated.[75] And it was but shortly after that Captain Chaloner's ship on its way to Virginia was seized by the Spaniards in the West Indies, and the crew sent to languish in the dungeons of Seville or condemned to the galleys. By attacks upon some of the English settlements, too, the Spaniards gave their threats a more effective form. Frequent raids were made upon the English and Dutch plantations in Guiana;[76] and on 8th-18th September 1629 a Spanish fleet of over thirty sail, commanded by Don Federico de Toledo, nearly annihilated the joint French and English colony on St. Kitts. Nine English ships were captured and the settlements burnt. The French inhabitants temporarily evacuated the island and sailed for Antigua; but of the English some 550 were carried to Cartagena and Havana, whence they were shipped to England, and all the rest fled to the mountains and woods.[77] Within three months' time, however, after the departure of the Spaniards, the scattered settlers had returned and re-established the colony. Providence Island and its neighbour, Henrietta, being situated near the Mosquito Coast, were peculiarly exposed to Spanish attack;[78] while near the north shore of Hispaniola the island of Tortuga, which was colonized by the same English company, suffered repeatedly from the assaults of its hostile neighbours. In July 1635 a Spanish fleet from the Main assailed the island of Providence, but unable to land among the rocks, was after five days beaten off "considerably torn" by the shot from the fort.[79] On the strength of these injuries received and of others anticipated, the Providence Company obtained from the king the liberty "to right themselves" by making reprisals, and during the next six years kept numerous vessels preying upon Spanish commerce in those waters. King Philip was therefore all the more intent upon destroying the plantation.[80] He bided his time, however, until the early summer of 1641, when the general of the galleons, Don Francisco Diaz Pimienta, with twelve sail and 2000 men, fell upon the colony, razed the forts and carried off all the English, about 770 in number, together with forty cannon and half a million of plunder.[81] It was just ten years later that a force of 800 men from Porto Rico invaded Santa Cruz, whence the Dutch had been expelled by the English in 1646, killed the English governor and more than 100 settlers, seized two ships in the harbour and burnt and pillaged most of the plantations. The rest of the inhabitants escaped to the woods, and after the departure of the Spaniards deserted the colony for St. Kitts and other islands.[82] Footnotes: [Footnote 1: Herrera: Decades II. 1, p. 4, cited in Scelle: la Traite Négrière, I. p. 6. Note 2.] [Footnote 2: Scelle, _op. cit._, i. pp. 6-9.] [Footnote 3: "Por cuanto los pacificaciones no se han de hacer con ruido de armas, sino con caridad y buen modo."--Recop. de leyes ... de las Indias, lib. vii. tit. 1.] [Footnote 4: Scelle, _op. cit._, i. p. 35.] [Footnote 5: Weiss: L'Espagne depuis Philippe II. jusqu'aux Bourbons., II. pp. 204 and 215. Not till 1722 was legislative sanction given to this practice. M. Lemonnet wrote to Colbert in 1670 concerning this commerce:--"Quelque perquisition qu'on ait faite dans ce dernier temps aux Indes pour découvrir les biens des François, ils ont plustost souffert la prison que de rien déclarer ... toute les merchandises qu'on leur donne à porter aux Indes sont chargées sous le nom d'Espagnols, que bien souvent n'en ont pas connaissance, ne jugeant pas à propos de leur en parler, afin de tenir les affaires plus secrètes et qu'il n'y ait que le commissionaire à le savoir, lequel en rend compte à son retour des Indes, directement à celui qui en a donne la cargaison en confiance sans avoir nul egard pour ceux au nom desquels le chargement à été fait, et lorsque ces commissionaires reviennent des Indes soit sur le flottes galions ou navires particuliers, ils apportent leur argent dans leurs coffres, la pluspart entre pont et sans connoissement." (Margry: Relations et mémoires inédits pour servir à l'histoire de la France dans les pays d'outremer, p. 185.) The importance to the maritime powers of preserving and protecting this clandestine trade is evident, especially as the Spanish government frequently found it a convenient instrument for retaliating upon those nations against which it harboured some grudge. All that was necessary was to sequester the vessels and goods of merchants belonging to the nation at which it wished to strike. This happened frequently in the course of the seventeenth century. Thus Lerma in 1601 arrested the French merchants in Spain to revenge himself on Henry IV. In 1624 Olivares seized 160 Dutch vessels. The goods of Genoese merchants were sequestered by Philip IV. in 1644; and in 1684 French merchandize was again seized, and Mexican traders whose storehouses contained such goods were fined 500,000 ecus, although the same storehouses contained English and Dutch goods which were left unnoticed. The fine was later restored upon Admiral d'Estrées' threat to bombard Cadiz. The solicitude of the French government for this trade is expressed in a letter of Colbert to the Marquis de Villars, ambassador at Madrid, dated 5th February 1672:--"Il est tellement necessaire d'avoir soin d'assister les particuliers qui font leur trafic en Espagne, pour maintenir le plus important commerce que nous ayons, que je suis persuadé que vous ferez toutes les instances qui pourront dépendre de vous ... en sorte que cette protection produira des avantages considérables au commerce des sujets de Sa Majesté" (_ibid._, p. 188). _Cf._ also the instructions of Louis XIV. to the Comte d'Estrées, 1st April 1680. The French admiral was to visit all the ports of the Spaniards in the West Indies, especially Cartagena and San Domingo; and to be always informed of the situation and advantages of these ports, and of the facilities and difficulties to be met with in case of an attack upon them; so that the Spaniards might realise that if they failed to do justice to the French merchants on the return of the galleons, his Majesty was always ready to force them to do so, either by attacking these galleons, or by capturing one of their West Indian ports (_ibid._).] [Footnote 6: Weiss, _op. cit._, II. p. 205.] [Footnote 7: Ibid., II. p. 206.] [Footnote 8: Oppenheim: The Naval Tracts of Sir Wm. Monson. Vol. II. Appendix B., p. 316.] [Footnote 9: In 1509, owing to the difficulties experienced by merchants in ascending the Guadalquivir, ships were given permission to load and register at Cadiz under the supervision of an inspector or "visitador," and thereafter commerce and navigation tended more and more to gravitate to that port. After 1529, in order to facilitate emigration to America, vessels were allowed to sail from certain other ports, notably San Sebastian, Bilboa, Coruna, Cartagena and Malaga. The ships might register in these ports, but were obliged always to make their return voyage to Seville. But either the _cedula_ was revoked, or was never made use of, for, according to Scelle, there are no known instances of vessels sailing to America from those towns. The only other exceptions were in favour of the Company of Guipuzcoa in 1728, to send ships from San Sebastian to Caracas, and of the Company of Galicia in 1734, to send two vessels annually to Campeache and Vera Cruz. (Scelle, _op. cit._, i. pp. 48-49 and notes.)] [Footnote 10: Scelle, _op. cit._, i. p. 36 _ff._] [Footnote 11: In Nov. 1530 Charles V., against the opposition of the _Contratacion_, ordered the Council of the Indies to appoint a resident judge at Cadiz to replace the officers of the _Casa_ there. This institution, called the "Juzgado de Indias," was, until the removal of the _Casa_ to Cadiz in 1717, the source of constant disputes and irritation.] [Footnote 12: Scelle, _op. cit._, i. p. 52 and note; Duro: Armada Espanola, I. p. 204.] [Footnote 13: The distinction between the Flota or fleet for New Spain and the galleons intended for Terra Firma only began with the opening of the great silver mines of Potosi, the rich yields of which after 1557 made advisable an especial fleet for Cartagena and Nombre de Dios. (Oppenheim, II. Appendix B., p. 322.)] [Footnote 14: Memoir of MM. Duhalde and de Rochefort to the French king, 1680 (Margry, _op. cit._, p. 192 _ff._).] [Footnote 15: Memoir of MM. Duhalde and de Rochefort to the French king, 1680 (Margry, _op. cit._, p. 192 _ff._)] [Footnote 16: Scelle, _op. cit._, i. p. 64; Dampier: Voyages, _ed._ 1906, i. p. 200.] [Footnote 17: Gage: A New Survey of the West Indies, _ed._ 1655, pp. 185-6. When Gage was at Granada, in February 1637, strict orders were received from Gautemala that the ships were not to sail that year, because the President and Audiencia were informed of some Dutch and English ships lying in wait at the mouth of the river.] [Footnote 18: Scelle, _op. cit._, i. pp. 64-5; Duhalde and de Rochefort. There were two ways of sending goods from Panama to Porto Bello. One was an overland route of 18 leagues, and was used only during the summer. The other was by land as far as Venta Cruz, 7 leagues from Panama, and thence by water on the river Chagre to its mouth, a distance of 26 leagues. When the river was high the transit might be accomplished in two or three days, but at other times from six to twelve days were required. To transfer goods from Chagre to Porto Bello was a matter of only eight or nine hours. This route was used in winter when the roads were rendered impassable by the great rains and floods. The overland journey, though shorter, was also more difficult and expensive. The goods were carried on long mule-trains, and the "roads, so-called, were merely bridle paths ... running through swamps and jungles, over hills and rocks, broken by unbridged rivers, and situated in one of the deadliest climates in the world." The project of a canal to be cut through the isthmus was often proposed to the Councils in Spain, but was never acted upon. (Descript. ... of Cartagena; Oppenheim, i. p. 333.)] [Footnote 19: Nombre de Dios, a few leagues to the east of Porto Bello, had formerly been the port where the galleons received the treasure brought from Panama, but in 1584 the King of Spain ordered the settlement to be abandoned on account of its unhealthiness, and because the harbour, being open to the sea, afforded little shelter to shipping. Gage says that in his time Nombre de Dios was almost forsaken because of its climate. Dampier, writing thirty years later, describes the site as a waste. "Nombre de Dios," he says, "is now nothing but a name. For I have lain ashore in the place where that City stood, but it is all overgrown with Wood, so as to have no sign that any Town hath been there." (Voyages, _ed._ 1906, i. p. 81.)] [Footnote 20: Gage, _ed._ 1655, pp. 196-8.] [Footnote 21: Scelle, _op. cit._, i. p. 65.] [Footnote 22: Oppenheim, ii. p. 338.] [Footnote 23: When the Margarita patache failed to meet the galleons at Cartagena, it was given its clearance and allowed to sail alone to Havana--a tempting prey to buccaneers hovering in those seas.] [Footnote 24: Duhalde and de Rochefort.] [Footnote 25: Rawl. MSS., A. 175, 313 b; Oppenheim, ii. p. 338.] [Footnote 26: Here I am following the MSS. quoted by Oppenheim (ii. pp. 335 _ff._). Instead of watering in Hispaniola, the fleet sometimes stopped at Dominica, or at Aguada in Porto Rico.] [Footnote 27: Duhalde and de Rochefort.] [Footnote 28: Quintal=about 100 pounds.] [Footnote 29: These "vaisseaux de registre" were supposed not to exceed 300 tons, but through fraud were often double that burden.] [Footnote 30: Duhalde and de Rochefort; Scelle, _op. cit._, i. p. 54.] [Footnote 31: Gage, _ed._ 1655, pp. 199-200.] [Footnote 32: Duhalde and de Rochefort; Oppenheim, ii. p. 318.] [Footnote 33: Scelle, _op. cit._, i. p. 45; Recop., t. i. lib. iii. tit. viii.] [Footnote 34: There seems to have been a contraband trade carried on at Cadiz itself. Foreign merchants embarked their goods upon the galleons directly from their own vessels in the harbour, without registering them with the _Contratacion_; and on the return of the fleets received the price of their goods in ingots of gold and silver by the same fraud. It is scarcely possible that this was done without the tacit authorization of the Council of the Indies at Madrid, for if the Council had insisted upon a rigid execution of the laws regarding registration, detection would have been inevitable.] [Footnote 35: Weiss, _op. cit._, ii. p. 226.] [Footnote 36: Most of the offices in the Spanish Indies were venal. No one obtained a post without paying dearly for it, except the viceroys of Mexico and Peru, who were grandees, and received their places through favour at court. The governors of the ports, and the presidents of the Audiencias established at Panama, San Domingo, and Gautemala, bought their posts in Spain. The offices in the interior were in the gift of the viceroys and sold to the highest bidder. Although each port had three corregidors who audited the finances, as they also paid for their places, they connived with the governors. The consequence was inevitable. Each official during his tenure of office expected to recover his initial outlay, and amass a small fortune besides. So not only were the bribes of interlopers acceptable, but the officials often themselves bought and sold the contraband articles.] [Footnote 37: Froude: History of England, viii. p. 436 _ff._] [Footnote 38: 1585, August 12th. Ralph Lane to Sir Philip Sidney. Port Ferdinando, Virginia.--He has discovered the infinite riches of St. John (Porto Rico?) and Hispaniola by dwelling on the islands five weeks. He thinks that if the Queen finds herself burdened with the King of Spain, to attempt them would be most honourable, feasible and profitable. He exhorts him not to refuse this good opportunity of rendering so great a service to the Church of Christ. The strength of the Spaniards doth altogether grow from the mines of her treasure. Extract, C.S.P. Colon., 1574-1660.] [Footnote 39: Scelle, _op. cit._, ii. p. xiii.] [Footnote 40: Scelle, _op. cit._, i. p. ix.] [Footnote 41: 1611, February 28. Sir Thos. Roe to Salisbury. Port d'Espaigne, Trinidad.--He has seen more of the coast from the River Amazon to the Orinoco than any other Englishman alive. The Spaniards here are proud and insolent, yet needy and weak, their force is reputation, their safety is opinion. The Spaniards treat the English worse than Moors. The government is lazy and has more skill in planting and selling tobacco than in erecting colonies and marching armies. Extract, C.S.P. Colon., 1574-1660. (Roe was sent by Prince Henry upon a voyage of discovery to the Indies.)] [Footnote 42: "An historical account of the rise and growth of the West India Colonies." By Dalby Thomas, Lond., 1690. (Harl. Miscell., 1808, ii. 357.)] [Footnote 43: Oviedo: Historia general de las Indias, lib. xix. cap. xiii.; Coleccion de documentos ... de ultramar, tom. iv. p. 57 (deposition of the Spanish captain at the Isle of Mona); Pacheco, etc.: Coleccion de documentos ... de las posesiones espanoles en America y Oceania, tom. xl. p. 305 (cross-examination of witnesses by officers of the Royal Audiencia in San Domingo just after the visit of the English ship to that place); English Historical Review, XX. p. 115. The ship is identified with the "Samson" dispatched by Henry VIII. in 1527 "with divers cunning men to seek strange regions," which sailed from the Thames on 20th May in company with the "Mary of Guildford," was lost by her consort in a storm on the night of 1st July, and was believed to have foundered with all on board. (Ibid.)] [Footnote 44: Hakluyt, _ed._ 1600, iii. p. 700; Froude, _op. cit._, viii. p. 427.] [Footnote 45: Scelle., _op. cit._, i. pp. 123-25, 139-61.] [Footnote 46: Colecc. de doc. ... de ultramar. tom. vi. p. 15.] [Footnote 47: Froude, _op. cit._, viii. pp. 470-72.] [Footnote 48: Corbett: Drake and the Tudor Navy, i. ch. 3.] [Footnote 49: Corbett: Drake and the Tudor Navy, ii. chs. 1, 2, 11.] [Footnote 50: Corbett: The Successors of Drake, ch. x.] [Footnote 51: Marcel: Les corsaires français au XVIe siècle, p. 7. As early as 1501 a royal ordinance in Spain prescribed the construction of carracks to pursue the privateers, and in 1513 royal _cedulas_ were sent to the officials of the _Casa de Contratacion_ ordering them to send two caravels to guard the coasts of Cuba and protect Spanish navigation from the assaults of French corsairs. (Ibid., p. 8).] [Footnote 52: Colecc. de doc. ... de ultramar, tomos i., iv., vi.; Ducéré: Les corsaires sous l'ancien régime. Append. II.; Duro., _op. cit._, i. Append. XIV.] [Footnote 53: Colecc. de doc. ... de ultramar, tom. vi. p. 22.] [Footnote 54: Ibid., p. 23.] [Footnote 55: Marcel, _op. cit._, p. 16.] [Footnote 56: Colecc. de doc. ... de ultramar, tom. vi. p. 360.] [Footnote 57: Colecc. de doc. ... de ultramar, tom. vi. p. 360.] [Footnote 58: Lucas: A Historical Geography of the British Colonies, vol. ii. pp. 37, 50.] [Footnote 59: Weiss, _op. cit._, ii. p. 292.] [Footnote 60: Duro, _op. cit._, iii. ch. xvi.; iv. chs. iii., viii.] [Footnote 61: Portugal between 1581 and 1640 was subject to the Crown of Spain, and Brazil, a Portuguese colony, was consequently within the pale of Spanish influence and administration.] [Footnote 62: Blok: History of the People of the Netherlands, iv. p. 36.] [Footnote 63: Blok: History of the People of the Netherlands, iv. p. 37; Duro, _op. cit._, iv. p. 99; Gage, _ed._ 1655, p. 80.] [Footnote 64: Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 36,325, No. 10.] [Footnote 65: Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick, was created admiral of the fleet by order of Parliament in March 1642, and although removed by Charles I. was reinstated by Parliament on 1st July.] [Footnote 66: Brit. Mus., Sloane MSS., 793 or 894; Add. MSS., 36,327, No. 9.] [Footnote 67: Winwood Papers, ii. pp. 75-77.] [Footnote 68: Brown: Genesis of the United States, i. pp. 120-25, 172.] [Footnote 69: C.S.P. Colon., 1574-1660.] [Footnote 70: C.S.P. Colon., 1574-1660.] [Footnote 71: Clarendon State Papers, ii. p. 87; Rymer: F[oe]dera, xx. p. 416.] [Footnote 72: Duro, _op. cit._, ii. p. 462.] [Footnote 73: Duro, _op. cit._, iii. pp. 236-37.] [Footnote 74: C.S.P. Venet., 1603-07, p. 199.] [Footnote 75: Winwood Papers, ii. p. 233.] [Footnote 76: Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 36,319, No. 7; 36,320, No. 8; 36,321, No. 24; 36,322, No. 23.] [Footnote 77: C.S.P. Colon., 1574-1660:--1629, 5th and 30th Nov.; 1630, 29th July.] [Footnote 78: Gage saw at Cartagena about a dozen English prisoners captured by the Spaniards at sea, and belonging to the settlement on Providence Island.] [Footnote 79: C.S.P. Colon., 1574-1660:--1635, 19th March; 1636, 26th March.] [Footnote 80: Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 36,323, No. 10.] [Footnote 81: Duro, Tomo., iv. p. 339; _cf._ also in Bodleian Library:--"A letter written upon occasion in the Low Countries, etc. Whereunto is added avisos from several places, of the taking of the Island of Providence, by the Spaniards from the English. London. Printed for Nath. Butter, Mar. 22, 1641. "I have letter by an aviso from Cartagena, dated the 14th of September, wherein they advise that the galleons were ready laden with the silver, and would depart thence the 6th of October. The general of the galleons, named Francisco Dias Pimienta, had beene formerly in the moneth of July with above 3000 men, and the least of his ships, in the island of S. Catalina, where he had taken and carried away with all the English, and razed the forts, wherein they found 600 negroes, much gold and indigo, so that the prize is esteemed worth above halfe a million."] [Footnote 82: Rawl. MSS., A. 32,297; 31, 121.] CHAPTER II THE BEGINNINGS OF THE BUCCANEERS In the second half of the sixteenth and the early part of the seventeenth centuries, strangers who visited the great Spanish islands of Hispaniola, Jamaica or Porto Rico, usually remarked the extraordinary number of wild cattle and boars found roaming upon them. These herds were in every case sprung from domestic animals originally brought from Spain. For as the aborigines in the Greater Antilles decreased in numbers under the heavy yoke of their conquerors, and as the Spaniards themselves turned their backs upon the Antilles for the richer allurements of the continent, less and less land was left under cultivation; and cattle, hogs, horses and even dogs ran wild, increased at a rapid rate, and soon filled the broad savannas and deep woods which covered the greater part of these islands. The northern shore of Hispaniola the Spaniards had never settled, and thither, probably from an early period, interloping ships were accustomed to resort when in want of victuals. With a long range of uninhabited coast, good anchorage and abundance of provisions, this northern shore could not fail to induce some to remain. In time we find there scattered groups of hunters, mostly French and English, who gained a rude livelihood by killing wild cattle for their skins, and curing the flesh to supply the needs of passing vessels. The origin of these men we do not know. They may have been deserters from ships, crews of wrecked vessels, or even chance marooners. In any case the charm of their half-savage, independent mode of life must soon have attracted others, and a fairly regular traffic sprang up between them and the ubiquitous Dutch traders, whom they supplied with hides, tallow and cured meat in return for the few crude necessities and luxuries they required. Their numbers were recruited in 1629 by colonists from St. Kitts who had fled before Don Federico de Toledo. Making common lot with the hunters, the refugees found sustenance so easy and the natural bounty of the island so rich and varied, that many remained and settled. To the north-west of Hispaniola lies a small, rocky island about eight leagues in length and two in breadth, separated by a narrow channel from its larger neighbour. From the shore of Hispaniola the island appears in form like a monster sea-turtle floating upon the waves, and hence was named by the Spaniards "Tortuga." So mountainous and inaccessible on the northern side as to be called the Côte-de-Fer, and with only one harbour upon the south, it offered a convenient refuge to the French and English hunters should the Spaniards become troublesome. These hunters probably ventured across to Tortuga before 1630, for there are indications that a Spanish expedition was sent against the island from Hispaniola in 1630 or 1631, and a division of the spoil made in the city of San Domingo after its return.[83] It was then, apparently, that the Spaniards left upon Tortuga an officer and twenty-eight men, the small garrison which, says Charlevoix, was found there when the hunters returned. The Spanish soldiers were already tired of their exile upon this lonely, inhospitable rock, and evacuated with the same satisfaction with which the French and English resumed their occupancy. From the testimony of some documents in the English colonial archives we may gather that the English from the first were in predominance in the new colony, and exercised almost sole authority. In the minutes of the Providence Company, under date of 19th May 1631, we find that a committee was "appointed to treat with the agents for a colony of about 150 persons, settled upon Tortuga";[84] and a few weeks later that "the planters upon the island of Tortuga desired the company to take them under their protection, and to be at the charge of their fortification, in consideration of a twentieth part of the commodities raised there yearly."[85] At the same time the Earl of Holland, governor of the company, and his associates petitioned the king for an enlargement of their grant "only of 3 or 4 degrees of northerly latitude, to avoid all doubts as to whether one of the islands (Tortuga) was contained in their former grant."[86] Although there were several islands named Tortuga in the region of the West Indies, all the evidence points to the identity of the island concerned in this petition with the Tortuga near the north coast of Hispaniola.[87] The Providence Company accepted the offer of the settlers upon Tortuga, and sent a ship to reinforce the little colony with six pieces of ordnance, a supply of ammunition and provisions, and a number of apprentices or _engagés_. A Captain Hilton was appointed governor, with Captain Christopher Wormeley to succeed him in case of the governor's death or absence, and the name of the island was changed from Tortuga to Association.[88] Although consisting for the most part of high land covered with tall cedar woods, the island contained in the south and west broad savannas which soon attracted planters as well as cattle-hunters. Some of the inhabitants of St. Kitts, wearied of the dissensions between the French and English there, and allured by reports of quiet and plenty in Tortuga, deserted St. Kitts for the new colony. The settlement, however, was probably always very poor and struggling, for in January 1634 the Providence Company received advice that Captain Hilton intended to desert the island and draw most of the inhabitants after him; and a declaration was sent out from England to the planters, assuring them special privileges of trade and domicile, and dissuading them from "changing certain ways of profit already discovered for uncertain hopes suggested by fancy or persuasion."[89] The question of remaining or departing, indeed, was soon decided for the colonists without their volition, for in December 1634 a Spanish force from Hispaniola invaded the island and drove out all the English and French they found there. It seems that an Irishman named "Don Juan Morf" (John Murphy?),[90] who had been "sargento-mayor" in Tortuga, became discontented with the _régime_ there and fled to Cartagena. The Spanish governor of Cartagena sent him to Don Gabriel de Gaves, President of the Audiencia in San Domingo, thinking that with the information the renegade was able to supply the Spaniards of Hispaniola might drive out the foreigners. The President of San Domingo, however, died three months later without bestirring himself, and it was left to his successor to carry out the project. With the information given by Murphy, added to that obtained from prisoners, he sent a force of 250 foot under command of Rui Fernandez de Fuemayor to take the island.[91] At this time, according to the Spaniards' account, there were in Tortuga 600 men bearing arms, besides slaves, women and children. The harbour was commanded by a platform of six cannon. The Spaniards approached the island just before dawn, but through the ignorance of the pilot the whole armadilla was cast upon some reefs near the shore. Rui Fernandez with about thirty of his men succeeded in reaching land in canoes, seized the fort without any difficulty, and although his followers were so few managed to disperse a body of the enemy who were approaching, with the English governor at their head, to recover it. In the mêlée the governor was one of the first to be killed--stabbed, say the Spaniards, by the Irishman, who took active part in the expedition and fought by the side of Rui Fernandez. Meanwhile some of the inhabitants, thinking that they could not hold the island, had regained the fort, spiked the guns and transferred the stores to several ships in the harbour, which sailed away leaving only two dismantled boats and a patache to fall into the hands of the Spaniards. Rui Fernandez, reinforced by some 200 of his men who had succeeded in escaping from the stranded armadilla, now turned his attention to the settlement. He found his way barred by another body of several hundred English, but dispersed them too, and took seventy prisoners. The houses were then sacked and the tobacco plantations burned by the soldiers, and the Spaniards returned to San Domingo with four captured banners, the six pieces of artillery and 180 muskets.[92] The Spanish occupation apparently did not last very long, for in the following April the Providence Company appointed Captain Nicholas Riskinner to be governor of Tortuga in place of Wormeley, and in February 1636 it learned that Riskinner was in possession of the island.[93] Two planters just returned from the colony, moreover, informed the company that there were then some 80 English in the settlement, besides 150 negroes. It is evident that the colonists were mostly cattle-hunters, for they assured the company that they could supply Tortuga with 200 beasts a month from Hispaniola, and would deliver calves there at twenty shillings apiece.[94] Yet at a later meeting of the Adventurers on 20th January 1637, a project for sending more men and ammunition to the island was suddenly dropped "upon intelligence that the inhabitants had quitted it and removed to Hispaniola."[95] For three years thereafter the Providence records are silent concerning Tortuga. A few Frenchmen must have remained on the island, however, for Charlevoix informs us that in 1638 the general of the galleons swooped down upon the colony, put to the sword all who failed to escape to the hills and woods, and again destroyed all the habitations.[96] Persuaded that the hunters would not expose themselves to a repetition of such treatment, the Spaniards neglected to leave a garrison, and a few scattered Frenchmen gradually filtered back to their ruined homes. It was about this time, it seems, that the President of San Domingo formed a body of 500 armed lancers in an effort to drive the intruders from the larger island of Hispaniola. These lancers, half of whom were always kept in the field, were divided into companies of fifty each, whence they were called by the French, "cinquantaines." Ranging the woods and savannas this Spanish constabulary attacked isolated hunters wherever they found them, and they formed an important element in the constant warfare between the French and Spanish colonists throughout the rest of the century.[97] Meanwhile an English adventurer, some time after the Spanish descent of 1638, gathered a body of 300 of his compatriots in the island of Nevis near St. Kitts, and sailing for Tortuga dispossessed the few Frenchmen living there of the island. According to French accounts he was received amicably by the inhabitants and lived with them for four months, when he turned upon his hosts, disarmed them and marooned them upon the opposite shore of Hispaniola. A few made their way to St. Kitts and complained to M. de Poincy, the governor-general of the French islands, who seized the opportunity to establish a French governor in Tortuga. Living at that time in St. Kitts was a Huguenot gentleman named Levasseur, who had been a companion-in-arms of d'Esnambuc when the latter settled St. Kitts in 1625, and after a short visit to France had returned and made his fortune in trade. He was a man of courage and command as well as a skilful engineer, and soon rose high in the councils of de Poincy. Being a Calvinist, however, he had drawn upon the governor the reproaches of the authorities at home; and de Poincy proposed to get rid of his presence, now become inconvenient, by sending him to subdue Tortuga. Levasseur received his commission from de Poincy in May 1640, assembled forty or fifty followers, all Calvinists, and sailed in a barque to Hispaniola. He established himself at Port Margot, about five leagues from Tortuga, and entered into friendly relations with his English neighbours. He was but biding his time, however, and on the last day of August 1640, on the plea that the English had ill-used some of his followers and had seized a vessel sent by de Poincy to obtain provisions, he made a sudden descent upon the island with only 49 men and captured the governor. The inhabitants retired to Hispaniola, but a few days later returned and besieged Levasseur for ten days. Finding that they could not dislodge him, they sailed away with all their people to the island of Providence.[98] Levasseur, fearing perhaps another descent of the Spaniards, lost no time in putting the settlement in a state of defence. Although the port of Tortuga was little more than a roadstead, it offered a good anchorage on a bottom of fine sand, the approaches to which were easily defended by a hill or promontory overlooking the harbour. The top of this hill, situated 500 or 600 paces from the shore, was a level platform, and upon it rose a steep rock some 30 feet high. Nine or ten paces from the base of the rock gushed forth a perennial fountain of fresh water. The new governor quickly made the most of these natural advantages. The platform he shaped into terraces, with means for accommodating several hundred men. On the top of the rock he built a house for himself, as well as a magazine, and mounted a battery of two guns. The only access to the rock was by a narrow approach, up half of which steps were cut in the stone, the rest of the ascent being by means of an iron ladder which could easily be raised and lowered.[99] This little fortress, in which the governor could repose with a feeling of entire security, he euphuistically called his "dove-cote." The dove-cote was not finished any too soon, for the Spaniards of San Domingo in 1643 determined to destroy this rising power in their neighbourhood, and sent against Levasseur a force of 500 or 600 men. When they tried to land within a half gunshot of the shore, however, they were greeted with a discharge of artillery from the fort, which sank one of the vessels and forced the rest to retire. The Spaniards withdrew to a place two leagues to leeward, where they succeeded in disembarking, but fell into an ambush laid by Levasseur, lost, according to the French accounts, between 100 and 200 men, and fled to their ships and back to Hispaniola. With this victory the reputation of Levasseur spread far and wide throughout the islands, and for ten years the Spaniards made no further attempt to dislodge the French settlement.[100] Planters, hunters and corsairs now came in greater numbers to Tortuga. The hunters, using the smaller island merely as a headquarters for supplies and a retreat in time of danger, penetrated more boldly than ever into the interior of Hispaniola, plundering the Spanish plantations in their path, and establishing settlements on the north shore at Port Margot and Port de Paix. Corsairs, after cruising and robbing along the Spanish coasts, retired to Tortuga to refit and find a market for their spoils. Plantations of tobacco and sugar were cultivated, and although the soil never yielded such rich returns as upon the other islands, Dutch and French trading ships frequently resorted there for these commodities, and especially for the skins prepared by the hunters, bringing in exchange brandy, guns, powder and cloth. Indeed, under the active, positive administration of Levasseur, Tortuga enjoyed a degree of prosperity which almost rivalled that of the French settlements in the Leeward Islands. The term "buccaneer," though usually applied to the corsairs who in the seventeenth century ravaged the Spanish possessions in the West Indies and the South Seas, should really be restricted to these cattle-hunters of west and north-west Hispaniola. The flesh of the wild-cattle was cured by the hunters after a fashion learnt from the Caribbee Indians. The meat was cut into long strips, laid upon a grate or hurdle constructed of green sticks, and dried over a slow wood fire fed with bones and the trimmings of the hide of the animal. By this means an excellent flavour was imparted to the meat and a fine red colour. The place where the flesh was smoked was called by the Indians a "boucan," and the same term, from the poverty of an undeveloped language, was applied to the frame or grating on which the flesh was dried. In course of time the dried meat became known as "viande boucannée," and the hunters themselves as "boucaniers" or "buccaneers." When later circumstances led the hunters to combine their trade in flesh and hides with that of piracy, the name gradually lost its original significance and acquired, in the English language at least, its modern and better-known meaning of corsair or freebooter. The French adventurers, however, seem always to have restricted the word "boucanier" to its proper signification, that of a hunter and curer of meat; and when they developed into corsairs, by a curious contrast they adopted an English name and called themselves "filibustiers," which is merely the French sailor's way of pronouncing the English word "freebooter."[101] The buccaneers or West Indian corsairs owed their origin as well as their name to the cattle and hog-hunters of Hispaniola and Tortuga. Doubtless many of the wilder, more restless spirits in the smaller islands of the Windward and Leeward groups found their way into the ranks of this piratical fraternity, or were willing at least to lend a hand in an occasional foray against their Spanish neighbours. We know that Jackson, in 1642, had no difficulty in gathering 700 or 800 men from Barbadoes and St. Kitts for his ill-starred dash upon the Spanish Main. And when the French in later years made their periodical descents upon the Dutch stations on Tobago, Curaçao and St. Eustatius, they always found in their island colonies of Martinique and Guadeloupe buccaneers enough and more, eager to fill their ships. It seems to be generally agreed, however, among the Jesuit historians of the West Indies--and upon these writers we are almost entirely dependent for our knowledge of the origins of buccaneering--that the corsairs had their source and nucleus in the hunters who infested the coasts of Hispaniola. Between the hunter and the pirate at first no impassable line was drawn. The same person combined in himself the occupations of cow-killing and cruising, varying the monotony of the one by occasionally trying his hand at the other. In either case he lived at constant enmity with the Spaniards. With the passing of time the sea attracted more and more away from their former pursuits. Even the planters who were beginning to filter into the new settlements found the attractions of coursing against the Spaniards to be irresistible. Great extremes of fortune, such as those to which the buccaneers were subject, have always exercised an attraction over minds of an adventurous stamp. It was the same allurement which drew the "forty-niners" to California, and in 1897 the gold-seekers to the Canadian Klondyke. If the suffering endured was often great, the prize to be gained was worth it. Fortune, if fickle one day, might the next bring incredible bounty, and the buccaneers who sweltered in a tropical sea, with starvation staring them in the face, dreamed of rolling in the oriental wealth of a Spanish argosy. Especially to the cattle-hunter must this temptation have been great, for his mode of life was the very rudest. He roamed the woods by day with his dog and apprentices, and at night slept in the open air or in a rude shed hastily constructed of leaves and skins, which served as a house, and which he called after the Indian name, "ajoupa" or "barbacoa." His dress was of the simplest--coarse cloth trousers, and a shirt which hung loosely over them, both pieces so black and saturated with the blood and grease of slain animals that they looked as if they had been tarred ("de toile gaudronnée").[102] A belt of undressed bull's hide bound the shirt, and supported on one side three or four large knives, on the other a pouch for powder and shot. A cap with a short pointed brim extending over the eyes, rude shoes of cowhide or pigskin made all of one piece bound over the foot, and a short, large-bore musket, completed the hunter's grotesque outfit. Often he carried wound about his waist a sack of netting into which he crawled at night to keep off the pestiferous mosquitoes. With creditable regularity he and his apprentices arose early in the morning and started on foot for the hunt, eating no food until they had killed and skinned as many wild cattle or swine as there were persons in the company. After having skinned the last animal, the master-hunter broke its softest bones and made a meal for himself and his followers on the marrow. Then each took up a hide and returned to the boucan, where they dined on the flesh they had killed.[103] In this fashion the hunter lived for the space of six months or a year. Then he made a division of the skins and dried meat, and repaired to Tortuga or one of the French settlements on the coast of Hispaniola to recoup his stock of ammunition and spend the rest of his gains in a wild carouse of drunkenness and debauchery. His money gone, he returned again to the hunt. The cow-killers, as they had neither wife nor children, commonly associated in pairs with the right of inheriting from each other, a custom which was called "matelotage." These private associations, however, did not prevent the property of all from being in a measure common. Their mode of settling quarrels was the most primitive--the duel. In other things they governed themselves by a certain "coutumier," a medley of bizarre laws which they had originated among themselves. At any attempt to bring them under civilised rules, the reply always was, "telle étoit la coutume de la côte"; and that definitely closed the matter. They based their rights thus to live upon the fact, they said, of having passed the Tropic, where, borrowing from the sailor's well-known superstition, they pretended to have drowned all their former obligations.[104] Even their family names they discarded, and the saying was in those days that one knew a man in the Isles only when he was married. From a life of this sort, cruising against Spanish ships, if not an unmixed good, was at least always a desirable recreation. Every Spanish prize brought into Tortuga, moreover, was an incitement to fresh adventure against the common foe. The "gens de la côte," as they called themselves, ordinarily associated a score or more together, and having taken or built themselves a canoe, put to sea with intent to seize a Spanish barque or some other coasting vessel. With silent paddles, under cover of darkness, they approached the unsuspecting prey, killed the frightened sailors or drove them overboard, and carried the prize to Tortuga. There the raiders either dispersed to their former occupations, or gathered a larger crew of congenial spirits and sailed away for bigger game. All the Jesuit historians of the West Indies, Dutertre, Labat and Charlevoix, have left us accounts of the manners and customs of the buccaneers. The Dutch physician, Exquemelin, who lived with the buccaneers for several years, from 1668 to 1674, and wrote a picturesque narrative from materials at his disposal, has also been a source for the ideas of most later writers on the subject. It may not be out of place to quote his description of the men whose deeds he recorded. "Before the Pirates go out to sea," he writes, "they give notice to every one who goes upon the voyage of the day on which they ought precisely to embark, intimating also to them their obligation of bringing each man in particular so many pounds of powder and bullets as they think necessary for that expedition. Being all come on board, they join together in council, concerning what place they ought first to go wherein to get provisions--especially of flesh, seeing they scarce eat anything else. And of this the most common sort among them is pork. The next food is tortoises, which they are accustomed to salt a little. Sometimes they resolve to rob such or such hog-yards, wherein the Spaniards often have a thousand heads of swine together. They come to these places in the dark of night, and having beset the keeper's lodge, they force him to rise, and give them as many heads as they desire, threatening withal to kill him in case he disobeys their command or makes any noise. Yea, these menaces are oftentimes put in execution, without giving any quarter to the miserable swine-keepers, or any other person that endeavours to hinder their robberies. "Having got provisions of flesh sufficient for their voyage, they return to their ship. Here their allowance, twice a day to every one, is as much as he can eat, without either weight or measure. Neither does the steward of the vessel give any greater proportion of flesh or anything else to the captain than to the meanest mariner. The ship being well victualled, they call another council, to deliberate towards what place they shall go, to seek their desperate fortunes. In this council, likewise, they agree upon certain Articles, which are put in writing, by way of bond or obligation, which everyone is bound to observe, and all of them, or the chief, set their hands to it. Herein they specify, and set down very distinctly, what sums of money each particular person ought to have for that voyage, the fund of all the payments being the common stock of what is gotten by the whole expedition; for otherwise it is the same law, among these people, as with other Pirates, 'No prey, no pay.' In the first place, therefore, they mention how much the Captain ought to have for his ship. Next the salary of the carpenter, or shipwright, who careened, mended and rigged the vessel. This commonly amounts to 100 or 150 pieces of eight, being, according to the agreement, more or less. Afterwards for provisions and victualling they draw out of the same common stock about 200 pieces of eight. Also a competent salary for the surgeon and his chest of medicaments, which is usually rated at 200 or 250 pieces of eight. Lastly they stipulate in writing what recompense or reward each one ought to have, that is either wounded or maimed in his body, suffering the loss of any limb, by that voyage. Thus they order for the loss of a right arm 600 pieces of eight, or six slaves; for the loss of a left arm 500 pieces of eight, or five slaves; for a right leg 500 pieces of eight, or five slaves; for the left leg 400 pieces of eight, or four slaves; for an eye 100 pieces of eight or one slave; for a finger of the hand the same reward as for the eye. All which sums of money, as I have said before, are taken out of the capital sum or common stock of what is got by their piracy. For a very exact and equal dividend is made of the remainder among them all. Yet herein they have also regard to qualities and places. Thus the Captain, or chief Commander, is allotted five or six portions to what the ordinary seamen have; the Master's Mate only two; and other Officers proportionate to their employment. After whom they draw equal parts from the highest even to the lowest mariner, the boys not being omitted. For even these draw half a share, by reason that, when they happen to take a better vessel than their own, it is the duty of the boys to set fire to the ship or boat wherein they are, and then retire to the prize which they have taken. "They observe among themselves very good orders. For in the prizes they take it is severely prohibited to everyone to usurp anything in particular to themselves. Hence all they take is equally divided, according to what has been said before. Yea, they make a solemn oath to each other not to abscond or conceal the least thing they find amongst the prey. If afterwards anyone is found unfaithful, who has contravened the said oath, immediately he is separated and turned out of the society. Among themselves they are very civil and charitable to each other. Insomuch that if any wants what another has, with great liberality they give it one to another. As soon as these pirates have taken any prize of ship or boat, the first thing they endeavour is to set on shore the prisoners, detaining only some few for their own help and service, to whom also they give their liberty after the space of two or three years. They put in very frequently for refreshment at one island or another; but more especially into those which lie on the southern side of the Isle of Cuba. Here they careen their vessels, and in the meanwhile some of them go to hunt, others to cruise upon the seas in canoes, seeking their fortune. Many times they take the poor fishermen of tortoises, and carrying them to their habitations they make them work so long as the pirates are pleased." The articles which fixed the conditions under which the buccaneers sailed were commonly called the "chasse-partie."[105] In the earlier days of buccaneering, before the period of great leaders like Mansfield, Morgan and Grammont, the captain was usually chosen from among their own number. Although faithfully obeyed he was removable at will, and had scarcely more prerogative than the ordinary sailor. After 1655 the buccaneers generally sailed under commissions from the governors of Jamaica or Tortuga, and then they always set aside one tenth of the profits for the governor. But when their prizes were unauthorised they often withdrew to some secluded coast to make a partition of the booty, and on their return to port eased the governor's conscience with politic gifts; and as the governor generally had little control over these difficult people he found himself all the more obliged to dissimulate. Although the buccaneers were called by the Spaniards "ladrones" and "demonios," names which they richly deserved, they often gave part of their spoil to churches in the ports which they frequented, especially if among the booty they found any ecclesiastical ornaments or the stuffs for making them--articles which not infrequently formed an important part of the cargo of Spanish treasure ships. In March 1694 the Jesuit writer, Labat, took part in a Mass at Martinique which was performed for some French buccaneers in pursuance of a vow made when they were taking two English vessels near Barbadoes. The French vessel and its two prizes were anchored near the church, and fired salutes of all their cannon at the beginning of the Mass, at the Elevation of the Host, at the Benediction, and again at the end of the Te Deum sung after the Mass.[106] Labat, who, although a priest, is particularly lenient towards the crimes of the buccaneers, and who we suspect must have been the recipient of numerous "favours" from them out of their store of booty, relates a curious tale of the buccaneer, Captain Daniel, a tale which has often been used by other writers, but which may bear repetition. Daniel, in need of provisions, anchored one night off one of the "Saintes," small islands near Dominica, and landing without opposition, took possession of the house of the curé and of some other inhabitants of the neighbourhood. He carried the curé and his people on board his ship without offering them the least violence, and told them that he merely wished to buy some wine, brandy and fowls. While these were being gathered, Daniel requested the curé to celebrate Mass, which the poor priest dared not refuse. So the necessary sacred vessels were sent for and an altar improvised on the deck for the service, which they chanted to the best of their ability. As at Martinique, the Mass was begun by a discharge of artillery, and after the Exaudiat and prayer for the King was closed by a loud "Vive le Roi!" from the throats of the buccaneers. A single incident, however, somewhat disturbed the devotions. One of the buccaneers, remaining in an indecent attitude during the Elevation, was rebuked by the captain, and instead of heeding the correction, replied with an impertinence and a fearful oath. Quick as a flash Daniel whipped out his pistol and shot the buccaneer through the head, adjuring God that he would do as much to the first who failed in his respect to the Holy Sacrifice. The shot was fired close by the priest, who, as we can readily imagine, was considerably agitated. "Do not be troubled, my father," said Daniel; "he is a rascal lacking in his duty and I have punished him to teach him better." A very efficacious means, remarks Labat, of preventing his falling into another like mistake. After the Mass the body of the dead man was thrown into the sea, and the curé was recompensed for his pains by some goods out of their stock and the present of a negro slave.[107] The buccaneers preferred to sail in barques, vessels of one mast and rigged with triangular sails. This type of boat, they found, could be more easily man[oe]uvred, was faster and sailed closer to the wind. The boats were built of cedar, and the best were reputed to come from Bermuda. They carried very few guns, generally from six to twelve or fourteen, the corsairs believing that four muskets did more execution than one cannon.[108] The buccaneers sometimes used brigantines, vessels with two masts, the fore or mizzenmast being square-rigged with two sails and the mainmast rigged like that of a barque. The corsair at Martinique of whom Labat speaks was captain of a corvette, a boat like a brigantine, except that all the sails were square-rigged. At the beginning of a voyage the freebooters were generally so crowded in their small vessels that they suffered much from lack of room. Moreover, they had little protection from sun and rain, and with but a small stock of provisions often faced starvation. It was this as much as anything which frequently inspired them to attack without reflection any possible prize, great or small, and to make themselves masters of it or perish in the attempt. Their first object was to come to close quarters; and although a single broadside would have sunk their small craft, they man[oe]uvred so skilfully as to keep their bow always presented to the enemy, while their musketeers cleared the enemy's decks until the time when the captain judged it proper to board. The buccaneers rarely attacked Spanish ships on the outward voyage from Europe to America, for such ships were loaded with wines, cloths, grains and other commodities for which they had little use, and which they could less readily turn into available wealth. Outgoing vessels also carried large crews and a considerable number of passengers. It was the homeward-bound ships, rather, which attracted their avarice, for in such vessels the crews were smaller and the cargo consisted of precious metals, dye-woods and jewels, articles which the freebooters could easily dispose of to the merchants and tavern-keepers of the ports they frequented. The Gulf of Honduras and the Mosquito Coast, dotted with numerous small islands and protecting reefs, was a favourite retreat for the buccaneers. As the clumsy Spanish war-vessels of the period found it ticklish work threading these tortuous channels, where a sudden adverse wind usually meant disaster, the buccaneers there felt secure from interference; and in the creeks, lagoons and river-mouths densely shrouded by tropical foliage, they were able to careen and refit their vessels, divide their booty, and enjoy a respite from their sea-forays. Thence, too, they preyed upon the Spanish ships which sailed from the coast of Cartagena to Porto Bello, Nicaragua, Mexico, and the larger Antilles, and were a constant menace to the great treasure galleons of the Terra-Firma fleet. The English settlement on the island of Providence, lying as it did off the Nicaragua coast and in the very track of Spanish commerce in those regions, was, until captured in 1641, a source of great fear to Spanish mariners; and when in 1642 some English occupied the island of Roatan, near Truxillo, the governor of Cuba and the Presidents of the Audiencias at Gautemala and San Domingo jointly equipped an expedition of four vessels under D. Francisco de Villalba y Toledo, which drove out the intruders.[109] Closer to the buccaneering headquarters in Tortuga (and later in Jamaica) were the straits separating the great West Indian islands:--the Yucatan Channel at the western end of Cuba, the passage between Cuba and Hispaniola in the east, and the Mona Passage between Hispaniola and Porto Rico. In these regions the corsairs waited to pick up stray Spanish merchantmen, and watched for the coming of the galleons or the Flota.[110] When the buccaneers returned from their cruises they generally squandered in a few days, in the taverns of the towns which they frequented, the wealth which had cost them such peril and labour. Some of these outlaws, says Exquemelin, would spend 2000 or 3000 pieces of eight[111] in one night, not leaving themselves a good shirt to wear on their backs in the morning. "My own master," he continues, "would buy, on like occasions, a whole pipe of wine, and placing it in the street would force every one that passed by to drink with him; threatening also to pistol them in case they would not do it. At other times he would do the same with barrels of ale or beer. And, very often, with both in his hands, he would throw these liquors about the streets, and wet the clothes of such as walked by, without regarding whether he spoiled their apparel or not, were they men or women." The taverns and ale-houses always welcomed the arrival of these dissolute corsairs; and although they extended long credits, they also at times sold as indentured servants those who had run too deeply into debt, as happened in Jamaica to this same patron or master of whom Exquemelin wrote. Until 1640 buccaneering in the West Indies was more or less accidental, occasional, in character. In the second half of the century, however, the numbers of the freebooters greatly increased, and men entirely deserted their former occupations for the excitement and big profits of the "course." There were several reasons for this increase in the popularity of buccaneering. The English adventurers in Hispaniola had lost their profession of hunting very early, for with the coming of Levasseur the French had gradually elbowed them out of the island, and compelled them either to retire to the Lesser Antilles or to prey upon their Spanish neighbours. But the French themselves were within the next twenty years driven to the same expedient. The Spanish colonists on Hispaniola, unable to keep the French from the island, at last foolishly resolved, according to Charlevoix's account, to remove the principal attraction by destroying all the wild cattle. If the trade with French vessels and the barter of hides for brandy could be arrested, the hunters would be driven from the woods by starvation. This policy, together with the wasteful methods pursued by the hunters, caused a rapid decrease in the number of cattle. The Spaniards, however, did not dream of the consequences of their action. Many of the French, forced to seek another occupation, naturally fell into the way of buccaneering. The hunters of cattle became hunters of Spaniards, and the sea became the savanna on which they sought their game. Exquemelin tells us that when he arrived at the island there were scarcely three hundred engaged in hunting, and even these found their livelihood precarious. It was from this time forward to the end of the century that the buccaneers played so important a _rôle_ on the stage of West Indian history. Another source of recruits for the freebooters were the indentured servants or _engagés_. We hear a great deal of the barbarity with which West Indian planters and hunters in the seventeenth century treated their servants, and we may well believe that many of the latter, finding their situation unendurable, ran away from their plantations or ajoupas to join the crew of a chance corsair hovering in the neighbourhood. The hunters' life, as we have seen, was not one of revelry and ease. On the one side were all the insidious dangers lurking in a wild, tropical forest; on the other, the relentless hostility of the Spaniards. The environment of the hunters made them rough and cruel, and for many an _engagé_ his three years of servitude must have been a veritable purgatory. The servants of the planters were in no better position. Decoyed from Norman and Breton towns and villages by the loud-sounding promises of sea-captains and West Indian agents, they came to seek an El Dorado, and often found only despair and death. The want of sufficient negroes led men to resort to any artifice in order to obtain assistance in cultivating the sugar-cane and tobacco. The apprentices sent from Europe were generally bound out in the French Antilles for eighteen months or three years, among the English for seven years. They were often resold in the interim, and sometimes served ten or twelve years before they regained their freedom. They were veritable convicts, often more ill-treated than the slaves with whom they worked side by side, for their lives, after the expiration of their term of service, were of no consequence to their masters. Many of these apprentices, of good birth and tender education, were unable to endure the debilitating climate and hard labour, let alone the cruelty of their employers. Exquemelin, himself originally an _engagé_, gives a most piteous description of their sufferings. He was sold to the Lieutenant-Governor of Tortuga, who treated him with great severity and refused to take less than 300 pieces of eight for his freedom. Falling ill through vexation and despair, he passed into the hands of a surgeon, who proved kind to him and finally gave him his liberty for 100 pieces of eight, to be paid after his first buccaneering voyage.[112] We left Levasseur governor in Tortuga after the abortive Spanish attack of 1643. Finding his personal ascendancy so complete over the rude natures about him, Levasseur, like many a greater man in similar circumstances, lost his sense of the rights of others. His character changed, he became suspicious and intolerant, and the settlers complained bitterly of his cruelty and overbearing temper. Having come as the leader of a band of Huguenots, he forbade the Roman Catholics to hold services on the island, burnt their chapel and turned out their priest. He placed heavy imposts on trade, and soon amassed a considerable fortune.[113] In his eyrie upon the rock fortress, he is said to have kept for his enemies a cage of iron, in which the prisoner could neither stand nor lie down, and which Levasseur, with grim humour, called his "little hell." A dungeon in his castle he termed in like fashion his "purgatory." All these stories, however, are reported by the Jesuits, his natural foes, and must be taken with a grain of salt. De Poincy, who himself ruled with despotic authority and was guilty of similar cruelties, would have turned a deaf ear to the denunciations against his lieutenant, had not his jealousy been aroused by the suspicion that Levasseur intended to declare himself an independent prince.[114] So the governor-general, already in bad odour at court for having given Levasseur means of establishing a little Geneva in Tortuga, began to disavow him to the authorities at home. He also sent his nephew, M. de Lonvilliers, to Tortuga, on the pretext of complimenting Levasseur on his victory over the Spaniards, but really to endeavour to entice him back to St. Kitts. Levasseur, subtle and penetrating, skilfully avoided the trap, and Lonvilliers returned to St. Kitts alone. Charlevoix relates an amusing instance of the governor's stubborn resistance to de Poincy's authority. A silver statue of the Virgin, captured by some buccaneer from a Spanish ship, had been appropriated by Levasseur, and de Poincy, desiring to decorate his chapel with it, wrote to him demanding the statue, and observing that a Protestant had no use for such an object. Levasseur, however, replied that the Protestants had a great adoration for silver virgins, and that Catholics being "trop spirituels pour tenir à la matière," he was sending him, instead, a madonna of painted wood. After a tenure of power for twelve years, Levasseur came to the end of his tether. While de Poincy was resolving upon an expedition to oust him from authority, two adventurers named Martin and Thibault, whom Levasseur had adopted as his heirs, and with whom, it is said, he had quarrelled over a mistress, shot him as he was descending from the fort to the shore, and completed the murder by a poniard's thrust. They then seized the government without any opposition from the inhabitants.[115] Meanwhile there had arrived at St. Kitts the Chevalier de Fontenay, a soldier of fortune who had distinguished himself against the Turks and was attracted by the gleam of Spanish gold. He it was whom de Poincy chose as the man to succeed Levasseur. The opportunity for action was eagerly accepted by de Fontenay, but the project was kept secret, for if Levasseur had got wind of it all the forces in St. Kitts could not have dislodged him. Volunteers were raised on the pretext of a privateering expedition to the coasts of Cartagena, and to complete the deception de Fontenay actually sailed for the Main and captured several prizes. The rendezvous was on the coast of Hispaniola, where de Fontenay was eventually joined by de Poincy's nephew, M. de Treval, with another frigate and materials for a siege. Learning of the murder of Levasseur, the invaders at once sailed for Tortuga and landed several hundred men at the spot where the Spaniards had formerly been repulsed. The two assassins, finding the inhabitants indisposed to support them, capitulated to de Fontenay on receiving pardon for their crime and the peaceful possession of their property. Catholicism was restored, commerce was patronized and buccaneers encouraged to use the port. Two stone bastions were raised on the platform and more guns were mounted.[116] De Fontenay himself was the first to bear the official title of "Governor for the King of Tortuga and the Coast of S. Domingo." The new governor was not fated to enjoy his success for any length of time. The President of S. Domingo, Don Juan Francisco de Montemayor, with orders from the King of Spain, was preparing for another effort to get rid of his troublesome neighbour, and in November 1653 sent an expedition of five vessels and 400 infantry against the French, under command of Don Gabriel Roxas de Valle-Figueroa. The ships were separated by a storm, two ran aground and a third was lost, so that only the "Capitana" and "Almirante" reached Tortuga on 10th January. Being greeted with a rough fire from the platform and fort as they approached the harbour, they dropped anchor a league to leeward and landed with little opposition. After nine days of fighting and siege of the fort, de Fontenay capitulated with the honours of war.[117] According to the French account, the Spaniards, lashing their cannon to rough frames of wood, dragged a battery of eight or ten guns to the top of some hills commanding the fort, and began a furious bombardment. Several sorties of the besieged to capture the battery were unsuccessful. The inhabitants began to tire of fighting, and de Fontenay, discovering some secret negotiations with the enemy, was compelled to sue for terms. With incredible exertions, two half-scuttled ships in the harbour were fitted up and provisioned within three days, and upon them the French sailed for Port Margot.[118] The Spaniards claimed that the booty would have been considerable but for some Dutch trading-ships in the harbour which conveyed all the valuables from the island. They burned the settlements, however, carried away with them some guns, munitions of war and slaves, and this time taking the precaution to leave behind a garrison of 150 men, sailed for Hispaniola. Fearing that the French might join forces with the buccaneers and attack their small squadron on the way back, they retained de Fontenay's brother as a hostage until they reached the city of San Domingo. De Fontenay, indeed, after his brother's release, did determine to try and recover the island. Only 130 of his men stood by him, the rest deserting to join the buccaneers in western Hispaniola. While he was careening his ship at Port Margot, however, a Dutch trader arrived with commodities for Tortuga, and learning of the disaster, offered him aid with men and supplies. A descent was made upon the smaller island, and the Spaniards were besieged for twenty days, but after several encounters they compelled the French to withdraw. De Fontenay, with only thirty companions, sailed for Europe, was wrecked among the Azores, and eventually reached France, only to die a short time afterwards. Footnotes: [Footnote 83: Bibl. Nat., Nouv. Acq., 9334, f. 48.] [Footnote 84: C.S.P. Colon., 1574-1660, p. 130. This company had been organised under the name of "The Governor and Company of Adventurers for the Plantations of the Islands of Providence, Henrietta and the adjacent islands, between 10 and 20 degrees of north latitude and 290 and 310 degrees of longitude." The patent of incorporation is dated 4th December 1630 (_ibid._, p. 123).] [Footnote 85: Ibid., p. 131.] [Footnote 86: Ibid.] [Footnote 87: This identity was first pointed out by Pierre de Vaissière in his recent book: "Saint Domingue (1629-1789). La societé et la vie créoles sous l'ancien régime," Paris, 1909, p. 7.] [Footnote 88: C.S.P. Colon., 1574-1660, pp. 131-33.] [Footnote 89: Ibid., pp. 174, 175.] [Footnote 90: This was probably the same man as the "Don Juan de Morfa Geraldino" who was admiral of the fleet which attacked Tortuga in 1654. _Cf._ Duro, _op. cit._, v. p. 35.] [Footnote 91: In 1642 Rui Fernandez de Fuemayor was governor and captain-general of the province of Venezuela. _Cf._ Doro, _op. cit._, iv. p. 341; note 2.] [Footnote 92: Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 13,977, f. 505. According to the minutes of the Providence Company, a certain Mr. Perry, newly arrived from Association, gave information on 19th March 1635 that the island had been surprised by the Spaniards (C.S.P. Colon., 1574-1660, p. 200). This news was confirmed by a Mrs. Filby at another meeting of the company on 10th April, when Capt. Wormeley, "by reason of his cowardice and negligence in losing the island," was formally deprived of his office as governor and banished from the colony (_ibid._, p. 201).] [Footnote 93: Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 13,977, pp. 222-23.] [Footnote 94: Ibid., pp. 226-27, 235.] [Footnote 95: Ibid., pp. 226, 233, 235-37, 244.] [Footnote 96: Charlevoix: Histoire de. ... Saint Domingue, liv. vii. pp. 9-10. The story is repeated by Duro (_op. cit._, v. p. 34), who says that the Spaniards were led by "el general D. Carlos Ibarra."] [Footnote 97: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. vii. p. 10; Bibl. Nat. Nouv. Acq., 9334, p. 48 _ff._] [Footnote 98: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. vii. pp. 10-12; Vaissière., _op. cit._, Appendix I ("Mémoire envoyé aux seigneurs de la Compagnie des Isles de l'Amérique par M. de Poincy, le 15 Novembre 1640"). According to the records of the Providence Company, Tortuga in 1640 had 300 inhabitants. A Captain Fload, who had been governor, was then in London to clear himself of charges preferred against him by the planters, while a Captain James was exercising authority as "President" in the island. (C.S.P. Colon., 1574-1660. pp. 313, 314.) Fload was probably the "English captain" referred to in de Poincy's memoir. His oppressive rule seems to have been felt as well by the English as by the French.] [Footnote 99: Dutertre: Histoire générale des Antilles, tom. i. p. 171.] [Footnote 100: Charlevoix: _op. cit._, liv. vii. pp. 12-13.] [Footnote 101: In this monograph, by "buccaneers" are always meant the corsairs and filibusters, and not the cattle and hog killers of Hispaniola and Tortuga.] [Footnote 102: Labat: Nouveau voyage aux isles de l'Amerique, _ed._ 1742, tom. vii. p. 233.] [Footnote 103: Le Pers, printed in Margry, _op. cit._] [Footnote 104: Le Pers, printed in Margry, _op. cit._] [Footnote 105: Dampier writes that "Privateers are not obliged to any ship, but free to go ashore where they please, or to go into any other ship that will entertain them, only paying for their provision." (Edition 1906, i. p. 61).] [Footnote 106: Labat, _op. cit._, tom. i. ch. 9.] [Footnote 107: Labat, _op. cit._, tom. vii. ch. 17.] [Footnote 108: Ibid., tom. ii. ch. 17.] [Footnote 109: Gibbs: British Honduras, p. 25.] [Footnote 110: A Spaniard, writing from S. Domingo in 1635, complains of an English buccaneer settlement at Samana (on the north coast of Hispaniola, near the Mona Passage), where they grew tobacco, and preyed on the ships sailing from Cartagena and S. Domingo for Spain. (Add. MSS., 13,977, f. 508.)] [Footnote 111: A piece of eight was worth in Jamaica from 4s. 6d. to 5s.] [Footnote 112: Exquemelin, _ed._ 1684, Part I. pp. 21-22.] [Footnote 113: Dutertre, _op. cit._, tom. i. ch. vi.] [Footnote 114: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. vii. p. 16.] [Footnote 115: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. vii. pp. 17-18.] [Footnote 116: According to a Spanish MS., there were in Tortuga in 1653 700 French inhabitants, more than 200 negroes, and 250 Indians with their wives and children. The negroes and Indians were all slaves; the former seized on the coasts of Havana and Cartagena, the latter brought over from Yucatan. In the harbour the platform had fourteen cannon, and in the fort above were forty-six cannon, many of them of bronze (Add. MSS., 13,992, f. 499 _ff._). The report of the amount of ordnance is doubtless an exaggeration.] [Footnote 117: Add. MSS., 13,992, f. 499.] [Footnote 118: According to Dutertre, one vessel was commanded by the assassins, Martin and Thibault, and contained the women and children. The latter, when provisions ran low, were marooned on one of the Caymans, north-west of Jamaica, where they would have perished had not a Dutch ship found and rescued them. Martin and Thibault were never heard of again.] CHAPTER III THE CONQUEST OF JAMAICA The capture of Jamaica by the expedition sent out by Cromwell in 1655 was the blundering beginning of a new era in West Indian history. It was the first permanent annexation by another European power of an integral part of Spanish America. Before 1655 the island had already been twice visited by English forces. The first occasion was in January 1597, when Sir Anthony Shirley, with little opposition, took and plundered St. Jago de la Vega. The second was in 1643, when William Jackson repeated the same exploit with 500 men from the Windward Islands. Cromwell's expedition, consisting of 2500 men and a considerable fleet, set sail from England in December 1654, with the secret object of "gaining an interest" in that part of the West Indies in possession of the Spaniards. Admiral Penn commanded the fleet, and General Venables the land forces.[119] The expedition reached Barbadoes at the end of January, where some 4000 additional troops were raised, besides about 1200 from Nevis, St. Kitts, and neighbouring islands. The commanders having resolved to direct their first attempt against Hispaniola, on 13th April a landing was effected at a point to the west of San Domingo, and the army, suffering terribly from a tropical sun and lack of water, marched thirty miles through woods and savannahs to attack the city. The English received two shameful defeats from a handful of Spaniards on 17th and 25th April, and General Venables, complaining loudly of the cowardice of his men and of Admiral Penn's failure to co-operate with him, finally gave up the attempt and sailed for Jamaica. On 11th May, in the splendid harbour on which Kingston now stands, the English fleet dropped anchor. Three small forts on the western side were battered by the guns from the ships, and as soon as the troops began to land the garrisons evacuated their posts. St. Jago, six miles inland, was occupied next day. The terms offered by Venables to the Spaniards (the same as those exacted from the English settlers on Providence Island in 1641--emigration within ten days on pain of death, and forfeiture of all their property) were accepted on the 17th; but the Spaniards were soon discovered to have entered into negotiations merely to gain time and retire with their families and goods to the woods and mountains, whence they continued their resistance. Meanwhile the army, wretchedly equipped with provisions and other necessities, was decimated by sickness. On the 19th two long-expected store-ships arrived, but the supplies brought by them were limited, and an appeal for assistance was sent to New England. Admiral Penn, disgusted with the fiasco in Hispaniola and on bad terms with Venables, sailed for England with part of his fleet on 25th June; and Venables, so ill that his life was despaired of, and also anxious to clear himself of the responsibility for the initial failure of the expedition, followed in the "Marston Moor" nine days later. On 20th September both commanders appeared before the Council of State to answer the charge of having deserted their posts, and together they shared the disgrace of a month in the Tower.[120] The army of General Venables was composed of very inferior and undisciplined troops, mostly the rejected of English regiments or the offscourings of the West Indian colonies; yet the chief reasons for the miscarriage before San Domingo were the failure of Venables to command the confidence of his officers and men, his inexcusable errors in the management of the attack, and the lack of cordial co-operation between him and the Admiral. The difficulties with which he had to struggle were, of course, very great. On the other hand, he seems to have been deficient both in strength of character and in military capacity; and his ill-health made still more difficult a task for which he was fundamentally incompetent. The comparative failure of this, Cromwell's pet enterprise, was a bitter blow to the Protector. For a whole day he shut himself up in his room, brooding over the disaster for which he, more than any other, was responsible. He had aimed not merely to plant one more colony in America, but to make himself master of such parts of the West Indian islands and Spanish Main as would enable him to dominate the route of the Spanish-American treasure fleets. To this end Jamaica contributed few advantages beyond those possessed by Barbadoes and St. Kitts, and it was too early for him to realize that island for island Jamaica was much more suitable than Hispaniola as the seat of an English colony.[121] Religious and economic motives form the key to Cromwell's foreign policy, and it is difficult to discover which, the religious or the economic, was uppermost in his mind when he planned this expedition. He inherited from the Puritans of Elizabeth's time the traditional religious hatred of Spain as the bulwark of Rome, and in his mind as in theirs the overthrow of the Spaniards in the West Indies was a blow at antichrist and an extension of the true religion. The religious ends of the expedition were fully impressed upon Venables and his successors in Jamaica.[122] Second only, however, to Oliver's desire to protect "the people of God," was his ambition to extend England's empire beyond the seas. He desired the unquestioned supremacy of England over the other nations of Europe, and that supremacy, as he probably foresaw, was to be commercial and colonial. Since the discovery of America the world's commerce had enormously increased, and its control brought with it national power. America had become the treasure-house of Europe. If England was to be set at the head of the world's commerce and navigation, she must break through Spain's monopoly of the Indies and gain a control in Spanish America. San Domingo was to be but a preliminary step, after which the rest of the Spanish dominions in the New World would be gradually absorbed.[123] The immediate excuse for the attack on Hispaniola and Jamaica was the Spaniards' practice of seizing English ships and ill-treating English crews merely because they were found in some part of the Caribbean Sea, and even though bound for a plantation actually in possession of English colonists. It was the old question of effective occupation _versus_ papal donation, and both Cromwell and Venables convinced themselves that Spanish assaults in the past on English ships and colonies supplied a sufficient _casus belli_.[124] There was no justification, however, for a secret attack upon Spain. She had been the first to recognize the young republic, and was willing and even anxious to league herself with England. There had been actual negotiations for an alliance, and Cromwell's offers, though rejected, had never been really withdrawn. Without a declaration of war or formal notice of any sort, a fleet was fitted out and sent in utmost secrecy to fall unawares upon the colonies of a friendly nation. The whole aspect of the exploit was Elizabethan. It was inspired by Drake and Raleigh, a reversion to the Elizabethan gold-hunt. It was the first of the great buccaneering expeditions.[125] Cromwell was doubtless influenced, too, by the representations of Thomas Gage. Gage was an Englishman who had joined the Dominicans and had been sent by his Order out to Spanish America. In 1641 he returned to England, announced his conversion to Protestantism, took the side of Parliament and became a minister. His experiences in the West Indies and Mexico he published in 1648 under the name of "The English-American, or a New Survey of the West Indies," a most entertaining book, which aimed to arouse Englishmen against Romish "idolatries," to show how valuable the Spanish-American provinces might be to England in trade and bullion and how easily they might be seized. In the summer of 1654, moreover, Gage had laid before the Protector a memorial in which he recapitulated the conclusions of his book, assuring Cromwell that the Spanish colonies were sparsely peopled and that the few whites were unwarlike and scantily provided with arms and ammunition. He asserted that the conquest of Hispaniola and Cuba would be a matter of no difficulty, and that even Central America was too weak to oppose a long resistance.[126] All this was true, and had Cromwell but sent a respectable force under an efficient leader the result would have been different. The exploits of the buccaneers a few years later proved it. It was fortunate, considering the distracted state of affairs in Jamaica in 1655-56, that the Spaniards were in no condition to attempt to regain the island. Cuba, the nearest Spanish territory to Jamaica, was being ravaged by the most terrible pestilence known there in years, and the inhabitants, alarmed for their own safety, instead of trying to dispossess the English, were busy providing for the defence of their own coasts.[127] In 1657, however, some troops under command of the old Spanish governor of Jamaica, D. Christopher Sasi Arnoldo, crossed from St. Jago de Cuba and entrenched themselves on the northern shore as the advance post of a greater force expected from the mainland. Papers of instructions relating to the enterprise were intercepted by Colonel Doyley, then acting-governor of Jamaica; and he with 500 picked men embarked for the north side, attacked the Spaniards in their entrenchments and utterly routed them.[128] The next year about 1000 men, the long-expected corps of regular Spanish infantry, landed and erected a fort at Rio Nuevo. Doyley, displaying the same energy, set out again on 11th June with 750 men, landed under fire on the 22nd, and next day captured the fort in a brilliant attack in which about 300 Spaniards were killed and 100 more, with many officers and flags, captured. The English lost about sixty in killed and wounded.[129] After the failure of a similar, though weaker, attempt in 1660, the Spaniards despaired of regaining Jamaica, and most of those still upon the island embraced the first opportunity to retire to Cuba and other Spanish settlements. As colonists the troops in Jamaica proved to be very discouraging material, and the army was soon in a wretched state. The officers and soldiers plundered and mutinied instead of working and planting. Their wastefulness led to scarcity of food, and scarcity of food brought disease and death.[139] They wished to force the Protector to recall them, or to employ them in assaulting the opulent Spanish towns on the Main, an occupation far more lucrative than that of planting corn and provisions for sustenance. Cromwell, however, set himself to develop and strengthen his new colony. He issued a proclamation encouraging trade and settlement in the island by exempting the inhabitants from taxes, and the Council voted that 1000 young men and an equal number of girls be shipped over from Ireland. The Scotch government was instructed to apprehend and transport idlers and vagabonds, and commissioners were sent into New England and to the Windward and Leeward Islands to try and attract settlers.[131] Bermudians, Jews, Quakers from Barbadoes and criminals from Newgate, helped to swell the population of the new colony, and in 1658 the island is said to have contained 4500 whites, besides 1500 or more negro slaves.[132] To dominate the Spanish trade routes was one of the principal objects of English policy in the West Indies. This purpose is reflected in all of Cromwell's instructions to the leaders of the Jamaican design, and it appears again in his instructions of 10th October 1655 to Major-General Fortescue and Vice-Admiral Goodson. Fortescue was given power and authority to land men upon territory claimed by the Spaniards, to take their forts, castles and places of strength, and to pursue, kill and destroy all who opposed him. The Vice-Admiral was to assist him with his sea-forces, and to use his best endeavours to seize all ships belonging to the King of Spain or his subjects in America.[133] The soldiers, as has been said, were more eager to fight the Spaniards than to plant, and opportunities were soon given them to try their hand. Admiral Penn had left twelve ships under Goodson's charge, and of these, six were at sea picking up a few scattered Spanish prizes which helped to pay for the victuals supplied out of New England.[134] Goodson, however, was after larger prey, no less than the galleons or a Spanish town upon the mainland. He did not know where the galleons were, but at the end of July he seems to have been lying with eight vessels before Cartagena and Porto Bello, and on 22nd November he sent Captain Blake with nine ships to the same coast to intercept all vessels going thither from Spain or elsewhere. The fleet was broken up by foul weather, however, and part returned on 14th December to refit, leaving a few small frigates to lie in wait for some merchantmen reported to be in that region.[135] The first town on the Main to feel the presence of this new power in the Indies was Santa Marta, close to Cartagena on the shores of what is now the U.S. of Columbia. In the latter part of October, just a month before the departure of Blake, Goodson sailed with a fleet of eight vessels to ravage the Spanish coasts. According to one account his original design had been against Rio de la Hacha near the pearl fisheries, "but having missed his aim" he sailed for Santa Marta. He landed 400 sailors and soldiers under the protection of his guns, took and demolished the two forts which barred his way, and entered the town. Finding that the inhabitants had already fled with as much of their belongings as they could carry, he pursued them some twelve miles up into the country; and on his return plundered and burnt their houses, embarked with thirty pieces of cannon and other booty, and sailed for Jamaica.[136] It was a gallant performance with a handful of men, but the profits were much less than had been expected. It had been agreed that the seamen and soldiers should receive half the spoil, but on counting the proceeds it was found that their share amounted to no more than £400, to balance which the State took the thirty pieces of ordnance and some powder, shot, hides, salt and Indian corn.[137] Sedgwick wrote to Thurloe that "reckoning all got there on the State's share, it did not pay for the powder and shot spent in that service."[138] Sedgwick was one of the civil commissioners appointed for the government of Jamaica. A brave, pious soldier with a long experience and honourable military record in the Massachusetts colony, he did not approve of this type of warfare against the Spaniards. "This kind of marooning cruising West India trade of plundering and burning towns," he writes, "though it hath been long practised in these parts, yet is not honourable for a princely navy, neither was it, I think, the work designed, though perhaps it may be tolerated at present." If Cromwell was to accomplish his original purpose of blocking up the Spanish treasure route, he wrote again, permanent foothold must be gained in some important Spanish fortress, either Cartagena or Havana, places strongly garrisoned, however, and requiring for their reduction a considerable army and fleet, such as Jamaica did not then possess. But to waste and burn towns of inferior rank without retaining them merely dragged on the war indefinitely and effected little advantage or profit to anybody.[139] Captain Nuberry visited Santa Marta several weeks after Goodson's descent, and, going on shore, found that about a hundred people had made bold to return and rebuild their devastated homes. Upon sight of the English the poor people again fled incontinently to the woods, and Nuberry and his men destroyed their houses a second time.[140] On 5th April 1656 Goodson, with ten of his best ships, set sail again and steered eastward along the coast of Hispaniola as far as Alta Vela, hoping to meet with some Spanish ships reported in that region. Encountering none, he stood for the Main, and landed on 4th May with about 450 men at Rio de la Hacha. The story of the exploit is merely a repetition of what happened at Santa Marta. The people had sight of the English fleet six hours before it could drop anchor, and fled from the town to the hills and surrounding woods. Only twelve men were left behind to hold the fort, which the English stormed and took within half an hour. Four large brass cannon were carried to the ships and the fort partly demolished. The Spaniards pretended to parley for the ransom of their town, but when after a day's delay they gave no sign of complying with the admiral's demands, he burned the place on 8th May and sailed away.[141] Goodson called again at Santa Marta on the 11th to get water, and on the 14th stood before Cartagena to view the harbour. Leaving three vessels to ply there, he returned to Jamaica, bringing back with him only two small prizes, one laden with wine, the other with cocoa. The seamen of the fleet, however, were restless and eager for further enterprises of this nature, and Goodson by the middle of June had fourteen of his vessels lying off the Cuban coast near Cape S. Antonio in wait for the galleons or the Flota, both of which fleets were then expected at Havana. His ambition to repeat the achievement of Piet Heyn was fated never to be realised. The fleet of Terra-Firma, he soon learned, had sailed into Havana on 15th May, and on 13th June, three days before his arrival on that coast, had departed for Spain.[142] Meanwhile, one of his own vessels, the "Arms of Holland," was blown up, with the loss of all on board but three men and the captain, and two other ships were disabled. Five of the fleet returned to England on 23rd August, and with the rest Goodson remained on the Cuban coast until the end of the month, watching in vain for the fleet from Vera Cruz which never sailed.[143] Colonel Edward Doyley, the officer who so promptly defeated the attempts of the Spaniards in 1657-58 to re-conquer Jamaica, was now governor of the island. He had sailed with the expedition to the West Indies as lieutenant-colonel in the regiment of General Venables, and on the death of Major-General Fortescue in November 1655 had been chosen by Cromwell's commissioners in Jamaica as commander-in-chief of the land forces. In May 1656 he was superseded by Robert Sedgwick, but the latter died within a few days, and Doyley petitioned the Protector to appoint him to the post. William Brayne, however, arrived from England in December 1656 to take chief command; and when he, like his two predecessors, was stricken down by disease nine months later, the place devolved permanently upon Doyley. Doyley was a very efficient governor, and although he has been accused of showing little regard or respect for planting and trade, the charge appears to be unjust.[144] He firmly maintained order among men disheartened and averse to settlement, and at the end of his service delivered up the colony a comparatively well-ordered and thriving community. He was confirmed in his post by Charles II. at the Restoration, but superseded by Lord Windsor in August 1661. Doyley's claim to distinction rests mainly upon his vigorous policy against the Spaniards, not only in defending Jamaica, but by encouraging privateers and carrying the war into the enemies' quarters. In July 1658, on learning from some prisoners that the galleons were in Porto Bello awaiting the plate from Panama, Doyley embarked 300 men on a fleet of five vessels and sent it to lie in an obscure bay between that port and Cartagena to intercept the Spanish ships. On 20th October the galleons were espied, twenty-nine vessels in all, fifteen galleons and fourteen stout merchantmen. Unfortunately, all the English vessels except the "Hector" and the "Marston Moor" were at that moment absent to obtain fresh water. Those two alone could do nothing, but passing helplessly through the Spaniards, hung on their rear and tried without success to scatter them. The English fleet later attacked and burnt the town of Tolu on the Main, capturing two Spanish ships in the road; and afterwards paid another visit to the unfortunate Santa Marta, where they remained three days, marching several miles into the country and burning and destroying everything in their path.[145] On 23rd April 1659, however, there returned to Port Royal another expedition whose success realised the wildest dreams of avarice. Three frigates under command of Captain Christopher Myngs,[146] with 300 soldiers on board, had been sent by Doyley to harry the South American coast. They first entered and destroyed Cumana, and then ranging along the coast westward, landed again at Puerto Cabello and at Coro. At the latter town they followed the inhabitants into the woods, where besides other plunder they came upon twenty-two chests of royal treasure intended for the King of Spain, each chest containing 400 pounds of silver.[147] Embarking this money and other spoil in the shape of plate, jewels and cocoa, they returned to Port Royal with the richest prize that ever entered Jamaica. The whole pillage was estimated at between £200,000 and £300,000.[148] The abundance of new wealth introduced into Jamaica did much to raise the spirits of the colonists, and set the island well upon the road to more prosperous times. The sequel to this brilliant exploit, however, was in some ways unfortunate. Disputes were engendered between the officers of the expedition and the governor and other authorities on shore over the disposal of the booty, and in the early part of June 1659 Captain Myngs was sent home in the "Marston Moor," suspended for disobeying orders and plundering the hold of one of the prizes to the value of 12,000 pieces of eight. Myngs was an active, intrepid commander, but apparently avaricious and impatient of control. He seems to have endeavoured to divert most of the prize money into the pockets of his officers and men, by disposing of the booty on his own initiative before giving a strict account of it to the governor or steward-general of the island. Doyley writes that there was a constant market aboard the "Marston Moor," and that Myngs and his officers, alleging it to be customary to break and plunder the holds, permitted the twenty-two chests of the King of Spain's silver to be divided among the men without any provision whatever for the claims of the State.[149] There was also some friction over the disposal of six Dutch prizes which Doyley had picked up for illegal trading at Barbadoes on his way out from England. These, too, had been plundered before they reached Jamaica, and when Myngs found that there was no power in the colony to try and condemn ships taken by virtue of the Navigation Laws, it only added fuel to his dissatisfaction. When Myngs reached England he lodged counter-complaints against Governor Doyley, Burough, the steward-general, and Vice-Admiral Goodson, alleging that they received more than their share of the prize money; and a war of mutual recrimination followed.[150] Amid the distractions of the Restoration, however, little seems ever to have been made of the matter in England. The insubordination of officers in 1659-60 was a constant source of difficulty and impediment to the governor in his efforts to establish peace and order in the colony. In England nobody was sure where the powers of government actually resided. As Burough wrote from Jamaica on 19th January 1660, "We are here just like you at home; when we heard of the Lord-Protector's death we proclaimed his son, and when we heard of his being turned out we proclaimed a Parliament and now own a Committee of safety."[151] The effect of this uncertainty was bound to be prejudicial in Jamaica, a new colony filled with adventurers, for it loosened the reins of authority and encouraged lawless spirits to set the governor at defiance. On 8th May 1660 Charles II. was proclaimed King of England, and entered London on 29th May. The war which Cromwell had begun with Spain was essentially a war of the Commonwealth. The Spanish court was therefore on friendly terms with the exiled prince, and when he returned into possession of his kingdom a cessation of hostilities with Spain naturally followed. Charles wrote a note to Don Luis de Haro on 2nd June 1660, proposing an armistice in Europe and America which was to lead to a permanent peace and a re-establishment of commercial relations between the two kingdoms.[152] At the same time Sir Henry Bennett, the English resident in Madrid, made similar proposals to the Spanish king. A favourable answer was received in July, and the cessation of arms, including a revival of the treaty of 1630 was proclaimed on 10th-20th September 1660. Preliminary negotiations for a new treaty were entered upon at Madrid, but the marriage of Charles to Catherine of Braganza in 1662, and the consequent alliance with Portugal, with whom Spain was then at war, put a damper upon all such designs. The armistice with Spain was not published in Jamaica until 5th February of the following year. On 4th February Colonel Doyley received from the governor of St. Jago de Cuba a letter enclosing an order from Sir Henry Bennett for the cessation of arms, and this order Doyley immediately made public.[153] About thirty English prisoners were also returned by the Spaniards with the letter. Doyley was confirmed in his command of Jamaica by Charles II., but his commission was not issued till 8th February 1661.[154] He was very desirous, however, of returning to England to look after his private affairs, and on 2nd August another commission was issued to Lord Windsor, appointing him as Doyley's successor.[155] Just a year later, in August 1662, Windsor arrived at Port Royal, fortified with instructions "to endeavour to obtain and preserve a good correspondence and free commerce with the plantations belonging to the King of Spain," even resorting to force if necessary.[156] The question of English trade with the Spanish colonies in the Indies had first come to the surface in the negotiations for the treaty of 1604, after the long wars between Elizabeth and Philip II. The endeavour of the Spaniards to obtain an explicit prohibition of commerce was met by the English demand for entire freedom. The Spaniards protested that it had never been granted in former treaties or to other nations, or even without restriction to Spanish subjects, and clamoured for at least a private article on the subject; but the English commissioners steadfastly refused, and offered to forbid trade only with ports actually under Spanish authority. Finally a compromise was reached in the words "in quibus ante bellum fuit commercium, juxta et secundum usum et observantiam."[157] This article was renewed in Cottington's Treaty of 1630. The Spaniards themselves, indeed, in 1630, were willing to concede a free navigation in the American seas, and even offered to recognise the English colony of Virginia if Charles I. would admit articles prohibiting trade and navigation in certain harbours and bays. Cottington, however, was too far-sighted, and wrote to Lord Dorchester: "For my own part, I shall ever be far from advising His Majesty to think of such restrictions, for certainly a little more time will open the navigation to those parts so long as there are no negative capitulations or articles to hinder it."[158] The monopolistic pretensions of the Spanish government were evidently relaxing, for in 1634 the Conde de Humanes confided to the English agent, Taylor, that there had been talk in the Council of the Indies of admitting the English to a share in the freight of ships sent to the West Indies, and even of granting them a limited permission to go to those regions on their own account. And in 1637 the Conde de Linhares, recently appointed governor of Brazil, told the English ambassador, Lord Aston, that he was very anxious that English ships should do the carrying between Lisbon and Brazilian ports. The settlement of the Windward and Leeward Islands and the conquest of Jamaica had given a new impetus to contraband trade. The commercial nations were setting up shop, as it were, at the very doors of the Spanish Indies. The French and English Antilles, condemned by the Navigation Laws to confine themselves to agriculture and a passive trade with the home country, had no recourse but to traffic with their Spanish neighbours. Factors of the Assiento established at Cartagena, Porto Bello and Vera Cruz every year supplied European merchants with detailed news of the nature and quantity of the goods which might be imported with advantage; while the buccaneers, by dominating the whole Caribbean Sea, hindered frequent communication between Spain and her colonies. It is not surprising, therefore, that the commerce of Seville, which had hitherto held its own, decreased with surprising rapidity, that the sailings of the galleons and the Flota were separated by several years, and that the fairs of Porto Bello and Vera Cruz were almost deserted. To put an effective restraint, moreover, upon this contraband trade was impossible on either side. The West Indian dependencies were situated far from the centre of authority, while the home governments generally had their hands too full of other matters to adequately control their subjects in America. The Spanish viceroys, meanwhile, and the governors in the West Indian Islands, connived at a practice which lined their own pockets with the gold of bribery, and at the same time contributed to the public interest and prosperity of their respective colonies. It was this illicit commerce with Spanish America which Charles II., by negotiation at Madrid and by instructions to his governors in the West Indies, tried to get within his own control. At the Spanish court, Fanshaw, Sandwich and Godolphin in turn were instructed to sue for a free trade with the Colonies. The Assiento of negroes was at this time held by two Genoese named Grillo and Lomelin, and with them the English ambassadors several times entered into negotiation for the privilege of supplying blacks from the English islands. By the treaty of 1670 the English colonies in America were for the first time formally recognised by the Spanish Crown. Freedom of commerce, however, was as far as ever from realisation, and after this date Charles seems to have given up hope of ever obtaining it through diplomatic channels. The peace of 1660 between England and Spain was supposed to extend to both sides of the "Line." The Council in Jamaica, however, were of the opinion that it applied only to Europe,[159] and from the tenor of Lord Windsor's instructions it may be inferred that the English Court at that time meant to interpret it with the same limitations. Windsor, indeed, was not only instructed to force the Spanish colonies to a free trade, but was empowered to call upon the governor of Barbadoes for aid "in case of any considerable attempt by the Spaniards against Jamaica."[160] The efforts of the Governor, however, to come to a good correspondence with the Spanish colonies were fruitless. In the minutes of the Council of Jamaica of 20th August 1662, we read: "Resolved that the letters from the Governors of Porto Rico and San Domingo are an absolute denial of trade, and that according to His Majesty's instructions to Lord Windsor a trade by force or otherwise be endeavoured;"[161] and under 12th September we find another resolution "that men be enlisted for a design by sea with the 'Centurion' and other vessels."[162] This "design" was an expedition to capture and destroy St. Jago de Cuba, the Spanish port nearest to Jamaican shores. An attack upon St. Jago had been projected by Goodson as far back as 1655. "The Admiral," wrote Major Sedgwick to Thurloe just after his arrival in Jamaica, "was intended before our coming in to have taken some few soldiers and gone over to St. Jago de Cuba, a town upon Cuba, but our coming hindered him without whom we could not well tell how to do anything."[163] In January 1656 the plan was definitely abandoned, because the colony could not spare a sufficient number of soldiers for the enterprise.[164] It was to St. Jago that the Spaniards, driven from Jamaica, mostly betook themselves, and from St. Jago as a starting-point had come the expedition of 1658 to reconquer the island. The instructions of Lord Windsor afforded a convenient opportunity to avenge past attacks and secure Jamaica from molestation in that quarter for the future. The command of the expedition was entrusted to Myngs, who in 1662 was again in the Indies on the frigate "Centurion." Myngs sailed from Port Royal on 21st September with eleven ships and 1300 men,[165] but, kept back by unfavourable winds, did not sight the castle of St. Jago until 5th October. Although he had intended to force the entrance of the harbour, he was prevented by the prevailing land breeze; so he disembarked his men to windward, on a rocky coast, where the path up the bluffs was so narrow that but one man could march at a time. Night had fallen before all were landed, and "the way (was) soe difficult and the night soe dark that they were forced to make stands and fires, and their guides with brands in their hands, to beat the path."[166] At daybreak they reached a plantation by a river's side, some six miles from the place of landing and three from St. Jago. There they refreshed themselves, and advancing upon the town surprised the enemy, who knew of the late landing and the badness of the way and did not expect them so soon. They found 200 Spaniards at the entrance to the town, drawn up under their governor, Don Pedro de Moralis, and supported by Don Christopher de Sasi Arnoldo, the former Spanish governor of Jamaica, with a reserve of 500 more. The Spaniards fled before the first charge of the Jamaicans, and the place was easily mastered. The next day parties were despatched into the country to pursue the enemy, and orders sent to the fleet to attack the forts at the mouth of the harbour. This was successfully done, the Spaniards deserting the great castle after firing but two muskets. Between scouring the country for hidden riches, most of which had been carried far inland beyond their reach, and dismantling and demolishing the forts, the English forces occupied their time until October 19th. Thirty-four guns were found in the fortifications and 1000 barrels of powder. Some of the guns were carried to the ships and the rest flung over the precipice into the sea; while the powder was used to blow up the castle and the neighbouring country houses.[167] The expedition returned to Jamaica on 22nd October.[168] Only six men had been killed by the Spaniards, twenty more being lost by other "accidents." Of these twenty some must have been captured by the enemy, for when Sir Richard Fanshaw was appointed ambassador to Spain in January 1664, he was instructed among other things to negotiate for an exchange of prisoners taken in the Indies. In July we find him treating for the release of Captain Myngs' men from the prisons of Seville and Cadiz,[169] and on 7th November an order to this effect was obtained from the King of Spain.[170] The instructions of Lord Windsor gave him leave, as soon as he had settled the government in Jamaica, to appoint a deputy and return to England to confer with the King on colonial affairs. Windsor sailed for England on 28th October, and on the same day Sir Charles Lyttleton's commission as deputy-governor was read in the Jamaican Council.[171] During his short sojourn of three months the Governor had made considerable progress toward establishing an ordered constitution in the island. He disbanded the old army, and reorganised the military under a stricter discipline and better officers. He systematised legal procedure and the rules for the conveyance of property. He erected an Admiralty Court at Port Royal, and above all, probably in pursuance of the recommendation of Colonel Doyley,[172] had called in all the privateering commissions issued by previous governors, and tried to submit the captains to orderly rules by giving them new commissions, with instructions to bring their Spanish prizes to Jamaica for judicature.[173] The departure of Windsor did not put a stop to the efforts of the Jamaicans to "force a trade" with the Spanish plantations, and we find the Council, on 11th December 1662, passing a motion that to this end an attempt should be made to leeward on the coasts of Cuba, Honduras and the Gulf of Campeache. On 9th and 10th January between 1500 and 1600 soldiers, many of them doubtless buccaneers, were embarked on a fleet of twelve ships and sailed two days later under command of the redoubtable Myngs. About ninety leagues this side of Campeache the fleet ran into a great storm, in which one of the vessels foundered and three others were separated from their fellows. The English reached the coast of Campeache, however, in the early morning of Friday, 9th February, and landing a league and a half from the town, marched without being seen along an Indian path with "such speed and good fortune" that by ten o'clock in the morning they were already masters of the city and of all the forts save one, the Castle of Santa Cruz. At the second fort Myngs was wounded by a gun in three places. The town itself, Myngs reported, might have been defended like a fortress, for the houses were contiguous and strongly built of stone with flat roofs.[174] The forts were partly demolished, a portion of the town was destroyed by fire, and the fourteen sail lying in the harbour were seized by the invaders. Altogether the booty must have been considerable. The Spanish licentiate, Maldonado de Aldana, placed it at 150,000 pieces of eight,[175] and the general damage to the city in the destruction of houses and munitions by the enemy, and in the expenditure of treasure for purposes of defence, at half a million more. Myngs and his fleet sailed away on 23rd February, but the "Centurion" did not reach Port Royal until 13th April, and the rest of the fleet followed a few days later. The number of casualties on each side was surprisingly small. The invaders lost only thirty men killed, and the Spaniards between fifty and sixty, but among the latter were the two alcaldes and many other officers and prominent citizens of the town.[176] To satisfactorily explain at Madrid these two presumptuous assaults upon Spanish territory in America was an embarrassing problem for the English Government, especially as Myngs' men imprisoned at Seville and Cadiz were said to have produced commissions to justify their actions.[177] The Spanish king instructed his resident in London to demand whether Charles accepted responsibility for the attack upon St. Jago, and the proceedings of English cases in the Spanish courts arising from the depredations of Galician corsairs were indefinitely suspended.[178] When, however, there followed upon this, in May 1663, the news of the sack and burning of Campeache, it stirred up the greatest excitement in Madrid.[179] Orders and, what was rarer in Spain, money were immediately sent to Cadiz to the Duke of Albuquerque to hasten the work on the royal Armada for despatch to the Indies; and efforts were made to resuscitate the defunct Armada de Barlovento, a small fleet which had formerly been used to catch interlopers and protect the coasts of Terra-Firma. In one way the capture of Campeache had touched Spain in her most vulnerable spot. The Mexican Flota, which was scheduled to sail from Havana in June 1663, refused to stir from its retreat at Vera Cruz until the galleons from Porto Bello came to convoy it. The arrival of the American treasure in Spain was thus delayed for two months, and the bankrupt government put to sore straits for money. The activity of the Spaniards, however, was merely a blind to hide their own impotence, and their clamours were eventually satisfied by the King of England's writing to Deputy-Governor Lyttleton a letter forbidding all such undertakings for the future. The text of the letter is as follows: "Understanding with what jealousy and offence the Spaniards look upon our island of Jamaica, and how disposed they are to make some attempt upon it, and knowing how disabled it will remain in its own defence if encouragement be given to such undertakings as have lately been set on foot, and are yet pursued, and which divert the inhabitants from that industry which alone can render the island considerable, the king signifies his dislike of all such undertakings, and commands that no such be pursued for the future, but that they unitedly apply themselves to the improvement of the plantation and keeping the force in proper condition."[180] The original draft of the letter was much milder in tone, and betrays the real attitude of Charles II. toward these half-piratical enterprises: "His Majesty has heard of the success of the undertaking upon Cuba, in which he cannot choose but please himself in the vigour and resolution wherein it was performed ... but because His Majesty cannot foresee any utility likely to arise thereby ... he has thought fit hereby to command him to give no encouragement to such undertakings unless they may be performed by the frigates or men-of-war attending that place without any addition from the soldiers or inhabitants."[181] Other letters were subsequently sent to Jamaica, which made it clear that the war of the privateers was not intended to be called off by the king's instructions; and Sir Charles Lyttleton, therefore, did not recall their commissions. Nevertheless, in the early part of 1664, the assembly in Jamaica passed an act prohibiting public levies of men upon foreign designs, and forbidding any person to leave the island on any such design without first obtaining leave from the governor, council and assembly.[182] When the instructions of the authorities at home were so ambiguous, and the incentives to corsairing so alluring, it was natural that this game of baiting the Spaniards should suffer little interruption. English freebooters who had formerly made Hispaniola and Tortuga their headquarters now resorted to Jamaica, where they found a cordial welcome and a better market for their plunder. Thus in June 1663 a certain Captain Barnard sailed from Port Royal to the Orinoco, took and plundered the town of Santo Tomas and returned in the following March.[183] On 19th October another privateer named Captain Cooper brought into Port Royal two Spanish prizes, the larger of which, the "Maria" of Seville, was a royal azogue and carried 1000 quintals of quicksilver for the King of Spain's mines in Mexico, besides oil, wine and olives.[184] Cooper in his fight with the smaller vessel so disabled his own ship that he was forced to abandon it and enter the prize; and it was while cruising off Hispaniola in this prize that he fell in with the "Maria," and captured her after a four hours' combat. There were seventy prisoners, among them a number of friars going to Campeache and Vera Cruz. Some of the prize goods were carried to England, and Don Patricio Moledi, the Spanish resident in London, importuned the English government for its restoration.[185] Sir Charles Lyttleton had sailed for England on 2nd May 1664, leaving the government of Jamaica in the hands of the Council with Colonel Thomas Lynch as president;[186] and on his arrival in England he made formal answer to the complaints of Moledi. His excuse was that Captain Cooper's commission had been derived not from the deputy-governor himself but from Lord Windsor; and that the deputy-governor had never received any order from the king for recalling commissions, or for the cessation of hostilities against the Spaniards.[187] Lyttleton and the English government were evidently attempting the rather difficult circus feat of riding two mounts at the same time. The instructions from England, as Lyttleton himself acknowledged in his letter of 15th October 1663, distinctly forbade further hostilities against the Spanish plantations; on the other hand, there were no specific orders that privateers should be recalled. Lyttleton was from first to last in sympathy with the freebooters, and probably believed with many others of his time that "the Spaniard is most pliable when best beaten." In August 1664 he presented to the Lord Chancellor his reasons for advocating a continuance of the privateers in Jamaica. They are sufficiently interesting to merit a _résumé_ of the principal points advanced. 1st. Privateering maintained a great number of seamen by whom the island was protected without the immediate necessity of a naval force. 2nd. If privateering were forbidden, the king would lose many men who, in case of a war in the West Indies, would be of incalculable service, being acquainted, as they were, with the coasts, shoals, currents, winds, etc., of the Spanish dominions. 3rd. Without the privateers, the Jamaicans would have no intelligence of Spanish designs against them, or of the size or neighbourhood of their fleets, or of the strength of their resources. 4th. If prize-goods were no longer brought into Port Royal, few merchants would resort to Jamaica and prices would become excessively high. 5th. To reduce the privateers would require a large number of frigates at considerable trouble and expense; English seamen, moreover, generally had the privateering spirit and would be more ready to join with them than oppose them, as previous experience had shown. Finally, the privateers, if denied the freedom of Jamaican ports, would not take to planting, but would resort to the islands of other nations, and perhaps prey upon English commerce.[188] Footnotes: [Footnote 119: Venables was not bound by his instructions to any definite plan. It had been proposed, he was told, to seize Hispaniola or Porto Rico or both, after which either Cartagena or Havana might be taken, and the Spanish revenue-fleets obstructed. An alternative scheme was to make the first attempt on the mainland at some point between the mouth of the Orinoco and Porto Bello, with the ultimate object of securing Cartagena. It was left to Venables, however, to consult with Admiral Penn and three commissioners, Edward Winslow (former governor of Plymouth colony in New England), Daniel Searle (governor of Barbadoes), and Gregory Butler, as to which, if any, of these schemes should be carried out. Not until some time after the arrival of the fleet at Barbadoes was it resolved to attack Hispaniola. (Narrative of Gen. Venables, edition 1900, pp. x, 112-3.)] [Footnote 120: Gardiner: Hist. of the Commonwealth and Protectorate, vol. iii. ch. xlv.; Narrative of Gen. Venables.] [Footnote 121: Gardiner: _op. cit._, iii. p. 368.] [Footnote 122: _Cf._ the "Commission of the Commissioners for the West Indian Expedition." (Narrative of Gen. Venables, p. 109.)] [Footnote 123: _Cf._ American Hist. Review, vol. iv. p. 228; "Instructions unto Gen. Robt. Venables." (Narrative of Gen. Venables, p. 111.)] [Footnote 124: _Cf._ Narrative of Gen. Venables, pp. 3, 90; "Instructions unto Generall Penn," etc., _ibid._, p. 107. After the outbreak of the Spanish war, Cromwell was anxious to clear his government of the charges of treachery and violation of international duties. The task was entrusted to the Latin Secretary, John Milton, who on 26th October 1655 published a manifesto defending the actions of the Commonwealth. He gave two principal reasons for the attempt upon the West Indies:--(1) the cruelties of the Spaniards toward the English in America and their depredations on English colonies and trade; (2) the outrageous treatment and extermination of the Indians. He denied the Spanish claims to all of America, either as a papal gift, or by right of discovery alone, or even by right of settlement, and insisted upon both the natural and treaty rights of Englishmen to trade in Spanish seas.] [Footnote 125: The memory of the exploits of Drake and his contemporaries was not allowed to die in the first half of the seventeenth century. Books like "Sir Francis Drake Revived," and "The World encompassed by Sir Francis Drake," were printed time and time again. The former was published in 1626 and again two years later; "The World Encompassed" first appeared in 1628 and was reprinted in 1635 and 1653. A quotation from the title-page of the latter may serve to illustrate the temper of the times:-- Drake, Sir Francis. The world encompassed. Being his next voyage to that to Nombre de Dios, formerly imprinted ... offered ... especially for the stirring up of heroick spirits, to benefit their country and eternize their names by like bold attempts. Lon. 1628. _Cf._ also Gardiner, _op. cit._, iii. pp. 343-44.] [Footnote 126: Gardiner, _op. cit._, iii. p. 346; _cf._ also "Present State of Jamaica, 1683."] [Footnote 127: Long: "History of Jamaica," i. p. 260; C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76. Addenda, No. 274.] [Footnote 128: Long, _op. cit._, i. p. 272 _ff._] [Footnote 129: Ibid.; Thurloe Papers, VI. p. 540; vii. p. 260; "Present State of Jamaica, 1683"; C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76. Addenda, Nos. 303-308.] [Footnote 130: Long, _op. cit._, i. p. 245; C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76. Addenda, Nos. 236, 261, 276, etc. The conditions in Jamaica directly after its capture are in remarkable contrast to what might have been expected after reading the enthusiastic descriptions of the island, its climate, soil and products, left us by Englishmen who visited it. Jackson in 1643 compared it with the Arcadian plains and Thessalien Tempe, and many of his men wanted to remain and live with the Spaniards. See also the description of Jamaica contained in the Rawlinson MSS. and written just after the arrival of the English army:--"As for the country ... more than this." (Narrative of Gen. Venables, pp. 138-9.)] [Footnote 131: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76. Addenda, Nos. 229, 232; Lucas: Historical Geography of the British Colonies, ii. p. 101, and note.] [Footnote 132: Lucas, _op. cit._, ii. p. 109.] [Footnote 133: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76. Addenda, Nos. 230, 231. Fortescue was Gen. Venables' successor in Jamaica.] [Footnote 134: Ibid., No. 218; Long, _op. cit._, i. p. 262.] [Footnote 135: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76. Addenda, Nos. 218, 252; Thurloe Papers, IV. pp. 451, 457.] [Footnote 136: Thurloe Papers, IV. pp. 152, 493.] [Footnote 137: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76. Addenda, No. 236.] [Footnote 138: Thurloe Papers, IV. p. 604.] [Footnote 139: Ibid., pp. 454-5, 604.] [Footnote 140: Thurloe Papers, IV. p. 452.] [Footnote 141: Ibid., v. pp. 96, 151.] [Footnote 142: This was the treasure fleet which Captain Stayner's ship and two other frigates captured off Cadiz on 9th September. Six galleons were captured, sunk or burnt, with no less than £600,000 of gold and silver. The galleons which Blake burnt in the harbour of Santa Cruz, on 20th April 1657, were doubtless the Mexican fleet for which Admiral Goodson vainly waited before Havana in the previous summer.] [Footnote 143: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76, Addenda, Nos. 260, 263, 266, 270, 275; Thurloe Papers, V. p. 340.] [Footnote 144: _Cf._ Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 12,430: Journal of Col. Beeston. Col. Beeston seems to have harboured a peculiar spite against Doyley. For the contrary view of Doyley, _cf._ Long, _op. cit._, i. p. 284.] [Footnote 145: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76. Addenda., Nos. 309, 310. In these letters the towns are called "Tralo" and "St. Mark." _Cf._ also Thurloe Papers, VII. p. 340.] [Footnote 146: Captain Christopher Myngs had been appointed to the "Marston Moor," a frigate of fifty-four guns, in October 1654, and had seen two years' service in the West Indies under Goodson in 1656 and 1657. In May 1656 he took part in the sack of Rio de la Hacha. In July 1657 the "Marston Moor" returned to England and was ordered to be refitted, but by 20th February 1658 Myngs and his frigate were again at Port Royal (C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76, Addenda, Nos. 295, 297). After Admiral Goodson's return to England (Ibid., No. 1202) Myngs seems to have been the chief naval officer in the West Indies, and greatly distinguished himself in his naval actions against the Spaniards.] [Footnote 147: Tanner MSS., LI. 82.] [Footnote 148: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76, Addenda, Nos. 315, 316. Some figures put it as high as £500,000.] [Footnote 149: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76, Addenda, Nos. 315, 318. Captain Wm. Dalyson wrote home, on 23rd January 1659/60, that he verily believed if the General (Doyley) were at home to answer for himself, Captain Myngs would be found no better than he is, a proud-speaking vain fool, and a knave in cheating the State and robbing merchants. Ibid., No. 328.] [Footnote 150: Ibid., Nos. 327, 331.] [Footnote 151: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76, Addenda, No. 326.] [Footnote 152: S.P. Spain, vol. 44, f. 318.] [Footnote 153: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 17, 61.] [Footnote 154: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 20.] [Footnote 155: Ibid., No. 145.] [Footnote 156: Ibid., Nos. 259, 278. In Lord Windsor's original instructions of 21st March 1662 he was empowered to search ships suspected of trading with the Spaniards and to adjudicate the same in the Admiralty Court. A fortnight later, however, the King and Council seem to have completely changed their point of view, and this too in spite of the Navigation Laws which prohibited the colonies from trading with any but the mother-country.] [Footnote 157: Art. ix. of the treaty. _Cf._ Dumont: Corps diplomatique, T.V., pt. ii. p. 625. _Cf._ also C.S.P. Venetian, 1604, p. 189:--"I wished to hear from His Majesty's own lips" (wrote the Venetian ambassador in November 1604), "how he read the clause about the India navigation, and I said, 'Sire, your subjects may trade with Spain and Flanders but not with the Indies.' 'Why not?' said the King. 'Because,' I replied, 'the clause is read in that sense.' 'They are making a great error, whoever they are that hold this view,' said His Majesty; 'the meaning is quite clear.'"] [Footnote 158: S.P. Spain, vol. 35.] [Footnote 159: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 61.] [Footnote 160: Ibid., No. 259.] [Footnote 161: Ibid., No. 355.] [Footnote 162: Ibid., No. 364.] [Footnote 163: Thurloe Papers, IV. p. 154.] [Footnote 164: Thurloe Papers, IV. p. 457.] [Footnote 165: Beeston's Journal.] [Footnote 166: Calendar of the Heathcote MSS. (pr. by Hist. MSS. Commiss.), p. 34.] [Footnote 167: Calendar of the Heathcote MSS., p. 34. _Cf._ also C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 384:--"An act for the sale of five copper guns taken at St. Jago de Cuba."] [Footnote 168: Beeston's Journal.] [Footnote 169: S.P. Spain, vol. 46.] [Footnote 170: Ibid., vol. 47.] [Footnote 171: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 294, 375.] [Footnote 172: Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 11,410, f. 16.] [Footnote 173: Ibid., f. 6.] [Footnote 174: Dampier also says of Campeache that "it makes a fine show, being built all with good stone ... the roofs flattish after the Spanish fashion, and covered with pantile."--_Ed._ 1906, ii. p. 147.] [Footnote 175: However, the writer of the "Present State of Jamaica" says (p. 39) that Myngs got no great plunder, neither at Campeache nor at St. Jago.] [Footnote 176: Beeston's Journal; Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 13,964, f. 16:--"Original letter from the Licentiate Maldonado de Aldana to Don Francisco Calderon y Romero, giving him an account of the taking of Campeache in 1663"; dated Campeache, March 1663. According to the Spanish relation there were fourteen vessels in the English fleet, one large ship of forty-four guns (the "Centurion"?) and thirteen smaller ones. The discrepancy in the numbers of the fleet may be explained by the probability that other Jamaican privateering vessels joined it after its departure from Port Royal. Beeston writes in his Journal that the privateer "Blessing," Captain Mitchell, commander, brought news on 28th February that the Spaniards in Campeache had notice from St. Jago of the English design and made elaborate preparations for the defence of the town. This is contradicted by the Spanish report, in which it appears that the authorities in Campeache had been culpably negligent in not maintaining the defences with men, powder or provisions.] [Footnote 177: S.P. Spain, vol. 46. Fanshaw to Sec. Bennet, 13th-23rd July 1664.] [Footnote 178: Ibid., vol. 45. Letter of Consul Rumbold, 31st March 1663.] [Footnote 179: Ibid., 4th May 1663.] [Footnote 180: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 443. Dated 28th April 1663.] [Footnote 181: Ibid., Nos. 441, 442.] [Footnote 182: Rawlinson MSS., A. 347, f. 62.] [Footnote 183: Beeston's Journal.] [Footnote 184: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 571; Beeston's Journal.] [Footnote 185: S.P. Spain, vol. 46, ff. 94, 96, 108, 121, 123, 127, 309 (April-August 1664).] [Footnote 186: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 697, 744, 812.] [Footnote 187: S.P. Spain, vol. 46, f. 280.] [Footnote 188: S.P. Spain, vol. 46, f. 311.] CHAPTER IV TORTUGA--1655-1664 When the Chevalier de Fontenay was driven from Tortuga in January 1654, the Spaniards left a small garrison to occupy the fort and prevent further settlements of French and English buccaneers. These troops possessed the island for about eighteen months, but on the approach of the expedition under Penn and Venables were ordered by the Conde de Penalva, President of S. Domingo, to demolish the fort, bury the artillery and other arms, and retire to his aid in Hispaniola.[189] Some six months later an Englishman, Elias Watts,[190] with his family and ten or twelve others, came from Jamaica in a shallop, re-settled the island, and raised a battery of four guns upon the ruins of the larger fort previously erected by the French. Watts received a commission for the island from General Brayne, who was then governor of Jamaica, and in a short time gathered about him a colony of about 150, both English and French. Among these new-comers was a "poor distressed gentleman" by the name of James Arundell, formerly a colonel in the Royalist army and now banished from England, who eventually married Watts' daughter and became the head of the colony. It was while Watts was governor of Tortuga, if we are to believe the Jesuit, Dutertre, that the buccaneers determined to avenge the treachery of the Spaniards to a French vessel in that neighbourhood by plundering the city of St. Jago in Hispaniola. According to this historian, who from the style of the narrative seems to be reporting the words of an eye-witness, the buccaneers, including doubtless both hunters and corsairs, formed a party of 400 men under the leadership of four captains and obtained a commission for the enterprise from the English governor, who was very likely looking forward to a share of the booty. Compelling the captain of a frigate which had just arrived from Nantes to lend his ship, they embarked in it and in two or three other boats found on the coast for Puerta de Plata, where they landed on Palm Sunday of 1659.[191] St. Jago, which lay in a pleasant, fertile plain some fifteen or twenty leagues in the interior of Hispaniola, they approached through the woods on the night of Holy Wednesday, entered before daybreak, and surprised the governor in his bed. The buccaneers told him to prepare to die, whereupon he fell on his knees and prayed to such effect that they finally offered him his life for a ransom of 60,000 pieces of eight. They pillaged for twenty-four hours, taking even the bells, ornaments and sacred vessels of the churches, and after refreshing themselves with food and drink, retreated with their plunder and prisoners, including the governor and chief inhabitants. Meanwhile the alarm had been given for ten or twelve leagues round about. Men came in from all directions, and rallying with the inhabitants of the town till they amounted to about 1000 men, marched through the woods by a by-route, got ahead of the buccaneers and attacked them from ambush. The English and French stood their ground in spite of inferior numbers, for they were all good marksmen and every shot told. As the Spaniards persisted, however, they finally threatened to stab the governor and all the other prisoners, whereupon the Spaniards took counsel and retired to their homes. The invaders lost only ten killed and five or six wounded. They tarried on the coast several days waiting for the rest of the promised ransom, but as it failed to arrive they liberated the prisoners and returned to Tortuga, each adventurer receiving 300 crowns as his share of the pillage.[192] In the latter part of 1659 a French gentleman, Jérémie Deschamps, seigneur du Rausset, who had been one of the first inhabitants of Tortuga under Levasseur and de Fontenay, repaired to England and had sufficient influence there to obtain an order from the Council of State to Colonel Doyley to give him a commission as governor of Tortuga, with such instructions as Doyley might think requisite.[193] This same du Rausset, it seems, had received a French commission from Louis XIV. as early as November 1656.[194] At any rate, he came to Jamaica in 1660 and obtained his commission from Doyley on condition that he held Tortuga in the English interest.[195] Watts, it seems, had meanwhile learnt that he was to be superseded by a Frenchman, whereupon he embarked with his family and all his goods and sought refuge in New England. About two months later, according to one story, Doyley heard that Deschamps had given a commission to a privateer and committed insolences for which Doyley feared to be called to account. He sent to remonstrate with him, but Deschamps answered that he possessed a French commission and that he had better interest with the powers in England than had the governor of Jamaica. As there were more French than English on the island, Deschamps then proclaimed the King of France and set up the French colours.[196] Doyley as yet had received no authority from the newly-restored king, Charles II., and hesitated to use any force; but he did give permission to Arundell, Watts' son-in-law, to surprise Deschamps and carry him to Jamaica for trial. Deschamps was absent at the time at Santa Cruz, but Arundell, relying upon the friendship and esteem which the inhabitants had felt for his father-in-law, surprised the governor's nephew and deputy, the Sieur de la Place, and possessed himself of the island. By some mischance or neglect, however, he was disarmed by the French and sent back to Jamaica.[197] This was not the end of his misfortunes. On the way to Jamaica he and his company were surprised by Spaniards in the bay of Matanzas in Cuba, and carried to Puerto Principe. There, after a month's imprisonment, Arundell and Barth. Cock, his shipmaster, were taken out by negroes into the bush and murdered, and their heads brought into the town.[198] Deschamps later returned to France because of ill-health, leaving la Place to govern the island in his stead, and when the property of the French Antilles was vested in the new French West India Company in 1664 he was arrested and sent to the Bastille. The cause of his arrest is obscure, but it seems that he had been in correspondence with the English government, to whom he had offered to restore Tortuga on condition of being reimbursed with £6000 sterling. A few days in the Bastille made him think better of his resolution. He ceded his rights to the company for 15,000 livres, and was released from confinement in November.[199] The fiasco of Arundell's attempt was not the only effort of the English to recover the island. In answer to a memorial presented by Lord Windsor before his departure for Jamaica, an Order in Council was delivered to him in February 1662, empowering him to use his utmost endeavours to reduce Tortuga and its governor to obedience.[200] The matter was taken up by the Jamaican Council in September, shortly after Windsor's arrival;[201] and on 16th December an order was issued by deputy-governor Lyttleton to Captain Robert Munden of the "Charles" frigate for the transportation of Colonel Samuel Barry and Captain Langford to Tortuga, where Munden was to receive orders for reducing the island.[202] The design miscarried again, however, probably because of ill-blood between Barry and Munden. Clement de Plenneville, who accompanied Barry, writes that "the expedition failed through treachery";[203] and Beeston says in his Journal that Barry, approaching Tortuga on 30th January, found the French armed and ready to oppose him, whereupon he ordered Captain Munden to fire. Munden however refused, sailed away to Corydon in Hispaniola, where he put Barry and his men on shore, and then "went away about his merchandize."[204] Barry made his way in a sloop to Jamaica where he arrived on 1st March. Langford, however, was sent to Petit-Goave, an island about the size of Tortuga in the _cul-de-sac_ at the western end of Hispaniola, where he was chosen governor by the inhabitants and raised the first English standard. Petit-Goave had been frequented by buccaneers since 1659, and after d'Ogeron succeeded du Rausset as governor for the French in those regions, it became with Tortuga one of their chief resorts. In the latter part of 1664 we find Langford in England petitioning the king for a commission as governor of Tortuga and the coast of Hispaniola, and for two ships to go and seize the smaller island.[205] Such a design, however, with the direct sanction and aid of the English government, might have endangered a rupture with France. Charles preferred to leave such irregular warfare to his governor in Jamaica, whom he could support or disown as best suited the exigencies of the moment. Langford, moreover, seems not to have made a brilliant success of his short stay at Petit-Goave, and was probably distrusted by the authorities both in England and in the West Indies. When Modyford came as governor to Jamaica, the possibility of recovering Tortuga was still discussed, but no effort to effect it was ever made again. Footnotes: [Footnote 189: Dutertre, t. iii. p. 126; Add. MSS., 13,992, f. 499. On 26th February 1656 there arrived at Jamaica a small vessel the master of which, touching at Tortuga, had found upon the deserted island two papers, one in Spanish, the other in "sorrie English" (Thurloe Papers, IV. p. 601). These papers were copies of a proclamation forbidding settlement on the island, and the English paper (Rawl. MSS., A. 29, f. 500) is printed in Firth's "Venables" as follows:-- "The Captane and Sarginge Mager Don Baltearsor Calderon and Spenoso, Nopte to the President that is now in the sity of Santo-domingo, and Captane of the gones of the sitye, and Governor and Lord Mare of this Island, and stranch of this Lland of Tortogo, and Chefe Comander of all for the Khinge of Spaine. "Yoo moust understand that all pepell what soever that shall com to this Iland of the Khinge of Spaine Catholok wich is name is Don Pilep the Ostere the forth of this name, that with his harmes he hath put of Feleminge and French men and Englesh with lefee heare from the yeare of 1630 tell the yeare of thurty fouer and tell the yeare of fifte fouer in wich the Kinge of Spane uesenge all curtyse and given good quartell to all that was upon this Iland, after that came and with oute Recepet upon this Iland knowinge that the Kinge of Spane had planted upon it and fortified in the name of the Kinge came the forth time the 15th of Augost the last yeare French and Fleminges to govern this Iland the same Governeore that was heare befor his name was Themeleon hot man De founttana gentleman of the ourder of Guresalem for to take this Iland put if fources by se and land and forsed us to beate him oute of this place with a greate dale of shame, and be caues yoo shall take notes that wee have puelld doune the Casill and carid all the gonenes and have puelld doune all the houes and have lefte no thinge, the same Captane and Sargint-mager in the name of the Kinge wich God blesh hath given yoo notis that what souer nason souer that shall com to live upon this Iland that thare shall not a man mother or children cape of the sorde, thare fore I give notiss to all pepell that they shall have a care with out anye more notis for this is the order of the Kinge and with out fall you will not want yooer Pamente and this is the furst and second and thorde time, and this whe leave heare for them that comes hear to take notis, that when wee com upon you, you shall not pleate that you dod not know is riten the 25 of August 1656." Baltesar Calderon y Espinosa Por Mandado de Senor Gou^{or}. Pedro Fran^{co} de riva deney xasuss. ] [Footnote 190: In Dutertre's account the name is Eliazouard (Elias Ward).] [Footnote 191: According to a Spanish account of the expedition the date was 1661. Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 13,992, f. 499.] [Footnote 192: Dutertre, tom. iii. pp. 130-34.] [Footnote 193: Rawl. MSS., A. 347, ff. 31 and 36; S.P. Spain, vol. 47:--Deposition of Sir Charles Lyttleton; Margry, _op. cit._, p. 281.] [Footnote 194: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. vii. p. 36; Vaissière, _op. cit._, p. 10.] [Footnote 195: According to Dutertre, Deschamps' commission extended only to the French inhabitants upon Tortuga, the French and English living thereafter under separate governments as at St. Kitts. Dutertre, t. iii. p. 135.] [Footnote 196: Rawl. MSS., A. 347, f. 36. According to Dutertre's version, Watts had scarcely forsaken the island when Deschamps arrived in the Road, and found that the French inhabitants had already made themselves masters of the colony and had substituted the French for the English standard. Dutertre, t. iii. p. 136.] [Footnote 197: Rawl. MSS., A. 347, f. 36.] [Footnote 198: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 648.] [Footnote 199: Dutertre, t. iii. p. 138; Vaissière, _op. cit._, p. 11, note 2.] [Footnote 200: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 233.] [Footnote 201: Ibid., No. 364.] [Footnote 202: Ibid., No. 390; _cf._ also No. 474 (1).] [Footnote 203: Ibid., No. 475.] [Footnote 204: Beeston's Journal, 1st March 1663. According to Dutertre, some inhabitants of Tortuga ran away to Jamaica and persuaded the governor that they could no longer endure French domination, and that if an armed force was sent, it would find no obstacle in restoring the English king's authority. Accordingly Col. Barry was despatched to receive their allegiance, with orders to use no violence but only to accept their voluntary submission. When Barry landed on Tortuga, however, with no other support than a proclamation and a harangue, the French inhabitants laughed in his face, and he returned to Jamaica in shame and confusion. Dutertre, t. iii. pp. 137-38.] [Footnote 205: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 817-21.] CHAPTER V PORTO BELLO AND PANAMA On 4th January 1664, the king wrote to Sir Thomas Modyford in Barbadoes that he had chosen him governor of Jamaica.[206] Modyford, who had lived as a planter in Barbadoes since 1650, had taken a prominent share in the struggles between Parliamentarians and Royalists in the little island. He was a member of the Council, and had been governor for a short time in 1660. His commission and instructions for Jamaica[207] were carried to the West Indies by Colonel Edward Morgan, who went as Modyford's deputy-governor and landed in Barbadoes on 21st April.[208] Modyford was instructed, among other things, to prohibit the granting of letters of marque, and particularly to encourage trade and maintain friendly relations with the Spanish dominions. Sir Richard Fanshaw had just been appointed to go to Spain and negotiate a treaty for wider commercial privileges in the Indies, and Charles saw that the daily complaints of violence and depredation done by Jamaican ships on the King of Spain's subjects were scarcely calculated to increase the good-will and compliance of the Spanish Court. Nor had the attempt in the Indies to force a trade upon the Spaniards been brilliantly successful. It was soon evident that another course of action was demanded. Sir Thomas Modyford seems at first to have been sincerely anxious to suppress privateering and conciliate his Spanish neighbours. On receiving his commission and instructions he immediately prepared letters to the President of San Domingo, expressing his fair intentions and requesting the co-operation of the Spaniards.[209] Modyford himself arrived in Jamaica on 1st June,[210] proclaimed an entire cessation of hostilities,[211] and on the 16th sent the "Swallow" ketch to Cartagena to acquaint the governor with what he had done. On almost the same day letters were forwarded from England and from Ambassador Fanshaw in Madrid, strictly forbidding all violences in the future against the Spanish nation, and ordering Modyford to inflict condign punishment on every offender, and make entire restitution and satisfaction to the sufferers.[212] The letters for San Domingo, which had been forwarded to Jamaica with Colonel Morgan and thence dispatched to Hispaniola before Modyford's arrival, received a favourable answer, but that was about as far as the matter ever got. The buccaneers, moreover, the principal grievance of the Spaniards, still remained at large. As Thomas Lynch wrote on 25th May, "It is not in the power of the governor to have or suffer a commerce, nor will any necessity or advantage bring private Spaniards to Jamaica, for we and they have used too many mutual barbarisms to have a sudden correspondence. When the king was restored, the Spaniards thought the manners of the English nation changed too, and adventured twenty or thirty vessels to Jamaica for blacks, but the surprises and irruptions by C. Myngs, for whom the governor of San Domingo has upbraided the commissioners, made the Spaniards redouble their malice, and nothing but an order from Spain can give us admittance or trade."[213] For a short time, however, a serious effort was made to recall the privateers. Several prizes which were brought into Port Royal were seized and returned to their owners, while the captors had their commissions taken from them. Such was the experience of one Captain Searles, who in August brought in two Spanish vessels, both of which were restored to the Spaniards, and Searles deprived of his rudder and sails as security against his making further depredations upon the Dons.[214] In November Captain Morris Williams sent a note to Governor Modyford, offering to come in with a rich prize of logwood, indigo and silver, if security were given that it should be condemned to him for the payment of his debts in Jamaica; and although the governor refused to give any promises the prize was brought in eight days later. The goods were seized and sold in the interest of the Spanish owner.[215] Nevertheless, the effects of the proclamation were not at all encouraging. In the first month only three privateers came in with their commissions, and Modyford wrote to Secretary Bennet on 30th June that he feared the only effect of the proclamation would be to drive them to the French in Tortuga. He therefore thought it prudent, he continued, to dispense somewhat with the strictness of his instructions, "doing by degrees and moderation what he had at first resolved to execute suddenly and severely."[216] Tortuga was really the crux of the whole difficulty. Back in 1662 Colonel Doyley, in his report to the Lord Chancellor after his return to England, had suggested the reduction of Tortuga to English obedience as the only effective way of dealing with the buccaneers;[217] and Modyford in 1664 also realized the necessity of this preliminary step.[218] The conquest of Tortuga, however, was no longer the simple task it might have been four or five years earlier. The inhabitants of the island were now almost entirely French, and with their companions on the coast of Hispaniola had no intention of submitting to English dictation. The buccaneers, who had become numerous and independent and made Tortuga one of their principal retreats, would throw all their strength in the balance against an expedition the avowed object of whose coming was to make their profession impossible. The colony, moreover, received an incalculable accession of strength in the arrival of Bertrand d'Ogeron, the governor sent out in 1665 by the new French West India Company. D'Ogeron was one of the most remarkable figures in the West Indies in the second half of the seventeenth century. Of broad imagination and singular kindness of heart, with an indomitable will and a mind full of resource, he seems to have been an ideal man for the task, not only of reducing to some semblance of law and order a people who had never given obedience to any authority, but also of making palatable the _régime_ and exclusive privileges of a private trading company. D'Ogeron first established himself at Port Margot on the coast of Hispaniola opposite Tortuga in the early part of 1665; and here the adventurers at once gave him to understand that they would never submit to any mere company, much less suffer an interruption of their trade with the Dutch, who had supplied them with necessities at a time when it was not even known in France that there were Frenchmen in that region. D'Ogeron pretended to subscribe to these conditions, passed over to Tortuga where he received the submission of la Place, and then to Petit-Goave and Leogane, in the _cul-de-sac_ of Hispaniola. There he made his headquarters, adopted every means to attract planters and _engagés_, and firmly established his authority. He made advances from his own purse without interest to adventurers who wished to settle down to planting, bought two ships to facilitate trade between the colony and France, and even contrived to have several lots of fifty women each brought over from France to be sold and distributed as wives amongst the colonists. The settlements soon put on a new air of prosperity, and really owed their existence as a permanent French colony to the efforts of this new governor.[219] It was under the administration of d'Ogeron that l'Olonnais,[220] Michel le Basque, and most of the French buccaneers flourished, whose exploits are celebrated in Exquemelin's history. The conquest of Tortuga was not the only measure necessary for the effectual suppression of the buccaneers. Five or six swift cruisers were also required to pursue and bring to bay those corsairs who refused to come in with their commissions.[221] Since the Restoration the West Indies had been entirely denuded of English men-of-war; while the buccaneers, with the tacit consent or encouragement of Doyley, had at the same time increased both in numbers and boldness. Letters written from Jamaica in 1664 placed the number scattered abroad in privateering at from 1500 to 2000, sailing in fourteen or fifteen ships.[222] They were desperate men, accustomed to living at sea, with no trade but burning and plundering, and unlikely to take orders from any but stronger and faster frigates. Nor was this condition of affairs surprising when we consider that, in the seventeenth century, there flowed from Europe to the West Indies adventurers from every class of society; men doubtless often endowed with strong personalities, enterprising and intrepid; but often, too, of mediocre intelligence or little education, and usually without either money or scruples. They included many who had revolted from the narrow social laws of European countries, and were disinclined to live peaceably within the bounds of any organized society. Many, too, had belonged to rebellious political factions at home, men of the better classes who were banished or who emigrated in order to keep their heads upon their shoulders. In France the total exhaustion of public and private fortune at the end of the religious wars disposed many to seek to recoup themselves out of the immense colonial riches of the Spaniards; while the disorders of the Rebellion and the Commonwealth in England caused successive emigrations of Puritans and Loyalists to the newer England beyond the seas. At the close of the Thirty Years' War, too, a host of French and English adventurers, who had fattened upon Germany and her misfortunes, were left without a livelihood, and doubtless many resorted to emigration as the sole means of continuing their life of freedom and even of licence. Coming to the West Indies these men, so various in origin and character, hoped soon to acquire there the riches which they lost or coveted at home; and their expectations deceived, they often broke in a formal and absolute manner the bonds which attached them to their fellow humanity. Jamaica especially suffered in this respect, for it had been colonized in the first instance by a discontented, refractory soldiery, and it was being recruited largely by transported criminals and vagabonds. In contrast with the policy of Spain, who placed the most careful restrictions upon the class of emigrants sent to her American possessions, England from the very beginning used her colonies, and especially the West Indian islands, as a dumping-ground for her refuse population. Within a short time a regular trade sprang up for furnishing the colonies with servile labour from the prisons of the mother country. Scots captured at the battles of Dunbar and Worcester,[223] English, French, Irish and Dutch pirates lying in the gaols of Dorchester and Plymouth,[224] if "not thought fit to be tried for their lives," were shipped to Barbadoes, Jamaica, and the other Antilles. In August 1656 the Council of State issued an order for the apprehension of all lewd and dangerous persons, rogues, vagrants and other idlers who had no way of livelihood and refused to work, to be transported by contractors to the English plantations in America;[225] and in June 1661 the Council for Foreign Plantations appointed a committee to consider the same matter.[226] Complaints were often made that children and apprentices were "seduced or spirited away" from their parents and masters and concealed upon ships sailing for the colonies; and an office of registry was established to prevent this abuse.[227] In 1664 Charles granted a licence for five years to Sir James Modyford, brother of Sir Thomas, to take all felons convicted in the circuits and at the Old Bailey who were afterwards reprieved for transportation to foreign plantations, and to transmit them to the governor of Jamaica;[228] and this practice was continued throughout the whole of the buccaneering period. Privateering opened a channel by which these disorderly spirits, impatient of the sober and laborious life of the planter, found an employment agreeable to their tastes. An example had been set by the plundering expeditions sent out by Fortescue, Brayne and Doyley, and when these naval excursions ceased, the sailors and others who had taken part in them fell to robbing on their private account. Sir Charles Lyttleton, we have seen, zealously defended and encouraged the freebooters; and Long, the historian of Jamaica, justified their existence on the ground that many traders were attracted to the island by the plunder with which Port Royal was so abundantly stocked, and that the prosperity of the colony was founded upon the great demand for provisions for the outfit of the privateers. These effects, however, were but temporary and superficial, and did not counterbalance the manifest evils of the practice, especially the discouragement to planting, and the element of turbulence and unrest ever present in the island. Under such conditions Governor Modyford found it necessary to temporise with the marauders, and perhaps he did so the more readily because he felt that they were still needed for the security of the colony. A war between England and the States-General then seemed imminent, and the governor considered that unless he allowed the buccaneers to dispose of their booty when they came in to Port Royal, they might, in event of hostilities breaking out, go to the Dutch at Curaçao and other islands, and prey upon Jamaican commerce. On the other hand, if, by adopting a conciliatory attitude, he retained their allegiance, they would offer the handiest and most effective instrument for driving the Dutch themselves out of the Indies.[229] He privately told one captain, who brought in a Spanish prize, that he only stopped the Admiralty proceedings to "give a good relish to the Spaniard"; and that although the captor should have satisfaction, the governor could not guarantee him his ship. So Sir Thomas persuaded some merchants to buy the prize-goods and contributed one quarter of the money himself, with the understanding that he should receive nothing if the Spaniards came to claim their property.[230] A letter from Secretary Bennet, on 12th November 1664, confirmed the governor in this course;[231] and on 2nd February 1665, three weeks before the declaration of war against Holland, a warrant was issued to the Duke of York, High Admiral of England, to grant, through the colonial governors and vice-admirals, commissions of reprisal upon the ships and goods of the Dutch.[232] Modyford at once took advantage of this liberty. Some fourteen pirates, who in the beginning of February had been tried and condemned to death, were pardoned; and public declaration was made that commissions would be granted against the Hollanders. Before nightfall two commissions had been taken out, and all the rovers were making applications and planning how to seize Curaçao.[233] Modyford drew up an elaborate design[234] for rooting out at one and the same time the Dutch settlements and the French buccaneers, and on 20th April he wrote that Lieutenant-Colonel Morgan had sailed with ten ships and some 500 men, chiefly "reformed prisoners," resolute fellows, and well armed with fusees and pistols.[235] Their plan was to fall upon the Dutch fleet trading at St. Kitts, capture St. Eustatius, Saba, and perhaps Curaçao, and on the homeward voyage visit the French settlements on Hispaniola and Tortuga. "All this is prepared," he wrote, "by the honest privateer, at the old rate of no purchase no pay, and it will cost the king nothing considerable, some powder and mortar-pieces." On the same day, 20th April, Admiral de Ruyter, who had arrived in the Indies with a fleet of fourteen sail, attacked the forts and shipping at Barbadoes, but suffered considerable damage and retired after a few hours. At Montserrat and Nevis, however, he was more successful and captured sixteen merchant ships, after which he sailed for Virginia and New York.[236] The buccaneers enrolled in Colonel Morgan's expedition proved to be troublesome allies. Before their departure from Jamaica most of them mutinied, and refused to sail until promised by Morgan that the plunder should be equally divided.[237] On 17th July, however, the expedition made its rendezvous at Montserrat, and on the 23rd arrived before St. Eustatius. Two vessels had been lost sight of, a third, with the ironical name of the "Olive Branch," had sailed for Virginia, and many stragglers had been left behind at Montserrat, so that Morgan could muster only 326 men for the assault. There was only one landing-place on the island, with a narrow path accommodating but two men at a time leading to an eminence which was crowned with a fort and 450 Dutchmen. Morgan landed his division first, and Colonel Carey followed. The enemy, it seems, gave them but one small volley and then retreated to the fort. The governor sent forward three men to parley, and on receiving a summons to surrender, delivered up the fort with eleven large guns and considerable ammunition. "It is supposed they were drunk or mad," was the comment made upon the rather disgraceful defence.[238] During the action Colonel Morgan, who was an old man and very corpulent, was overcome by the hard marching and extraordinary heat, and died. Colonel Carey, who succeeded him in command, was anxious to proceed at once to the capture of the Dutch forts on Saba, St. Martins and Tortola; but the buccaneers refused to stir until the booty got at St. Eustatius was divided--nor were the officers and men able to agree on the manner of sharing. The plunder, besides guns and ammunition, included about 900 slaves, negro and Indian, with a large quantity of live stock and cotton. Meanwhile a party of seventy had crossed over to the island of Saba, only four leagues distant, and secured its surrender on the same terms as St. Eustatius. As the men had now become very mutinous, and on a muster numbered scarcely 250, the officers decided that they could not reasonably proceed any further and sailed for Jamaica, leaving a small garrison on each of the islands. Most of the Dutch, about 250 in number, were sent to St. Martins, but a few others, with some threescore English, Irish and Scotch, took the oath of allegiance and remained.[239] Encouraged by a letter from the king,[240] Governor Modyford continued his exertions against the Dutch. In January (?) 1666 two buccaneer captains, Searles and Stedman, with two small ships and only eighty men took the island of Tobago, near Trinidad, and destroyed everything they could not carry away. Lord Willoughby, governor of Barbadoes, had also fitted out an expedition to take the island, but the Jamaicans were three or four days before him. The latter were busy with their work of pillage, when Willoughby arrived and demanded the island in the name of the king; and the buccaneers condescended to leave the fort and the governor's house standing only on condition that Willoughby gave them liberty to sell their plunder in Barbadoes.[241] Modyford, meanwhile, greatly disappointed by the miscarriage of the design against Curaçao, called in the aid of the "old privateer," Captain Edward Mansfield, and in the autumn of 1665, with the hope of sending another armament against the island, appointed a rendezvous for the buccaneers in Bluefields Bay.[242] In January 1666 war against England was openly declared by France in support of her Dutch allies, and in the following month Charles II. sent letters to his governors in the West Indies and the North American colonies, apprising them of the war and urging them to attack their French neighbours.[243] The news of the outbreak of hostilities did not reach Jamaica until 2nd July, but already in December of the previous year warning had been sent out to the West Indies of the coming rupture.[244] Governor Modyford, therefore, seeing the French very much increased in Hispaniola, concluded that it was high time to entice the buccaneers from French service and bind them to himself by issuing commissions against the Spaniards. The French still permitted the freebooters to dispose of Spanish prizes in their ports, but the better market afforded by Jamaica was always a sufficient consideration to attract not only the English buccaneers, but the Dutch and French as well. Moreover, the difficulties of the situation, which Modyford had repeatedly enlarged upon in his letters, seem to have been appreciated by the authorities in England, for in the spring of 1665, following upon Secretary Bennet's letter of 12th November and shortly after the outbreak of the Dutch war, the Duke of Albemarle had written to Modyford in the name of the king, giving him permission to use his own discretion in granting commissions against the Dons.[245] Modyford was convinced that all the circumstances were favourable to such a course of action, and on 22nd February assembled the Council. A resolution was passed that it was to the interest of the island to grant letters of marque against the Spaniards,[246] and a proclamation to this effect was published by the governor at Port Royal and Tortuga. In the following August Modyford sent home to Bennet, now become Lord Arlington, an elaborate defence of his actions. "Your Lordship very well knows," wrote Modyford, "how great an aversion I had for the privateers while at Barbadoes, but after I had put His Majesty's orders for restitution in strict execution, I found my error in the decay of the forts and wealth of this place, and also the affections of this people to His Majesty's service; yet I continued discountenancing and punishing those kind of people till your Lordship's of the 12th November 1664 arrived, commanding a gentle usage of them; still we went to decay, which I represented to the Lord General faithfully the 6th of March following, who upon serious consideration with His Majesty and the Lord Chancellor, by letter of 1st June 1665, gave me latitude to grant or not commissions against the Spaniard, as I found it for the advantage of His Majesty's service and the good of this island. I was glad of this power, yet resolved not to use it unless necessity drove me to it; and that too when I saw how poor the fleets returning from Statia were, so that vessels were broken up and the men disposed of for the coast of Cuba to get a livelihood and so be wholly alienated from us. Many stayed at the Windward Isles, having not enough to pay their engagements, and at Tortuga and among the French buccaneers; still I forebore to make use of my power, hoping their hardships and great hazards would in time reclaim them from that course of life. But about the beginning of March last I found that the guards of Port Royal, which under Colonel Morgan were 600, had fallen to 138, so I assembled the Council to advise how to strengthen that most important place with some of the inland forces; but they all agreed that the only way to fill Port Royal with men was to grant commissions against the Spaniards, which they were very pressing in ... and looking on our weak condition, the chief merchants gone from Port Royal, no credit given to privateers for victualling, etc., and rumours of war with the French often repeated, I issued a declaration of my intentions to grant commissions against the Spaniards. Your Lordship cannot imagine what an universal change there was on the faces of men and things, ships repairing, great resort of workmen and labourers to Port Royal, many returning, many debtors released out of prison, and the ships from the Curaçao voyage, not daring to come in for fear of creditors, brought in and fitted out again, so that the regimental forces at Port Royal are near 400. Had it not been for that seasonable action, I could not have kept my place against the French buccaneers, who would have ruined all the seaside plantations at least, whereas I now draw from them mainly, and lately David Marteen, the best man of Tortuga, that has two frigates at sea, has promised to bring in both."[247] In so far as the buccaneers affected the mutual relations of England and Spain, it after all could make little difference whether commissions were issued in Jamaica or not, for the plundering and burning continued, and the harassed Spanish-Americans, only too prone to call the rogues English of whatever origin they might really be, continued to curse and hate the English nation and make cruel reprisals whenever possible. Moreover, every expedition into Spanish territory, finding the Spaniards very weak and very rich, gave new incentive to such endeavour. While Modyford had been standing now on one foot, now on the other, uncertain whether to repulse the buccaneers or not, secretly anxious to welcome them, but fearing the authorities at home, the corsairs themselves had entirely ignored him. The privateers whom Modyford had invited to rendezvous in Bluefield's Bay in November 1665 had chosen Captain Mansfield as their admiral, and in the middle of January sailed from the south cays of Cuba for Curaçao. In the meantime, however, because they had been refused provisions which, according to Modyford's account, they sought to buy from the Spaniards in Cuba, they had marched forty-two miles into the island, and on the strength of Portuguese commissions which they held against the Spaniards, had plundered and burnt the town of Sancti Spiritus, routed a body of 200 horse, carried some prisoners to the coast, and for their ransom extorted 300 head of cattle.[248] The rich and easy profits to be got by plundering the Spaniards were almost too much for the loyalty of the men, and Modyford, hearing of many defections from their ranks, had despatched Captain Beeston on 10th November to divert them, if possible, from Sancti Spiritus, and confirm them in their designs against Curaçao.[249] The officers of the expedition, indeed, sent to the governor a letter expressing their zeal for the enterprise; but the men still held off, and the fleet, in consequence, eventually broke up. Two vessels departed for Tortuga, and four others, joined by two French rovers, sailed under Mansfield to attempt the recapture of Providence Island, which, since 1641, had been garrisoned by the Spaniards and used as a penal settlement.[250] Being resolved, as Mansfield afterwards told the governor of Jamaica, never to see Modyford's face until he had done some service to the king, he sailed for Providence with about 200 men,[251] and approaching the island in the night by an unusual passage among the reefs, landed early in the morning, and surprised and captured the Spanish commander. The garrison of about 200 yielded up the fort on the promise that they would be carried to the mainland. Twenty-seven pieces of ordnance were taken, many of which, it is said, bore the arms of Queen Elizabeth engraved upon them. Mansfield left thirty-five men under command of a Captain Hattsell to hold the island, and sailed with his prisoners for Central America. After cruising along the shores of the mainland, he ascended the San Juan River and entered and sacked Granada, the capital of Nicaragua. From Granada the buccaneers turned south into Costa Rica, burning plantations, breaking the images in the churches, ham-stringing cows and mules, cutting down the fruit trees, and in general destroying everything they found. The Spanish governor had only thirty-six soldiers at his disposal and scarcely any firearms; but he gathered the inhabitants and some Indians, blocked the roads, laid ambuscades, and did all that his pitiful means permitted to hinder the progress of the invaders. The freebooters had designed to visit Cartago, the chief city of the province, and plunder it as they had plundered Granada. They penetrated only as far as Turrialva, however, whence weary and footsore from their struggle through the Cordillera, and harassed by the Spaniards, they retired through the province of Veragua in military order to their ships.[252] On 12th June the buccaneers, laden with booty, sailed into Port Royal. There was at that moment no declared war between England and Spain. Yet the governor, probably because he believed Mansfield to be justified, _ex post facto_, by the issue of commissions against the Spaniards in the previous February, did no more than mildly reprove him for acting without his orders; and "considering its good situation for favouring any design on the rich main," he accepted the tender of the island in behalf of the king. He despatched Major Samuel Smith, who had been one of Mansfield's party, with a few soldiers to reinforce the English garrison;[253] and on 10th November the Council in England set the stamp of their approval upon his actions by issuing a commission to his brother, Sir James Modyford, to be lieutenant-governor of the new acquisition.[254] In August 1665, only two months before the departure of Mansfield from Jamaica, there had returned to Port Royal from a raid in the same region three privateer captains named Morris, Jackman and Morgan.[255] These men, with their followers, doubtless helped to swell the ranks of Mansfield's buccaneers, and it was probably their report of the wealth of Central America which induced Mansfield to emulate their performance. In the previous January these three captains, still pretending to sail under commissions from Lord Windsor, had ascended the river Tabasco, in the province of Campeache, with 107 men, and guided by Indians made a detour of 300 miles, according to their account, to Villa de Mosa,[256] which they took and plundered. When they returned to the mouth of the river, they found that their ships had been seized by Spaniards, who, on their approach, attacked them 300 strong. The Spaniards, softened by the heat and indolent life of the tropics, were no match for one-third their number of desperadoes, and the buccaneers beat them off without the loss of a man. The freebooters then fitted up two barques and four canoes, sailed to Rio Garta and stormed the place with only thirty men; crossed the Gulf of Honduras to the Island of Roatan to rest and obtain fresh water, and then captured and plundered the port of Truxillo. Down the Mosquito Coast they passed like a devouring flame, consuming all in their path. Anchoring in Monkey Bay, they ascended the San Juan River in canoes for a distance of 100 miles to Lake Nicaragua. The basin into which they entered they described as a veritable paradise, the air cool and wholesome, the shores of the lake full of green pastures and broad savannahs dotted with horses and cattle, and round about all a coronal of azure mountains. Hiding by day among the numerous islands and rowing all night, on the fifth night they landed near the city of Granada, just a year before Mansfield's visit to the place. The buccaneers marched unobserved to the central square of the city, overturned eighteen cannon mounted there, seized the magazine, and took and imprisoned in the cathedral 300 of the citizens. They plundered for sixteen hours, then released their prisoners, and taking the precaution to scuttle all the boats, made their way back to the sea coast. The town was large and pleasant, containing seven churches besides several colleges and monasteries, and most of the buildings were constructed of stone. About 1000 Indians, driven to rebellion by the cruelty and oppression of the Spaniards, accompanied the marauders and would have massacred the prisoners, especially the religious, had they not been told that the English had no intentions of retaining their conquest. The news of the exploit produced a lively impression in Jamaica, and the governor suggested Central America as the "properest place" for an attack from England on the Spanish Indies.[257] Providence Island was now in the hands of an English garrison, and the Spaniards were not slow to realise that the possession of this outpost by the buccaneers might be but the first step to larger conquests on the mainland. The President of Panama, Don Juan Perez de Guzman, immediately took steps to recover the island. He transferred himself to Porto Bello, embargoed an English ship of thirty guns, the "Concord," lying at anchor there with licence to trade in negroes, manned it with 350 Spaniards under command of José Sánchez Jiménez, and sent it to Cartagena. The governor of Cartagena contributed several small vessels and a hundred or more men to the enterprise, and on 10th August 1666 the united Spanish fleet appeared off the shores of Providence. On the refusal of Major Smith to surrender, the Spaniards landed, and on 15th August, after a three days' siege, forced the handful of buccaneers, only sixty or seventy in number, to capitulate. Some of the English defenders later deposed before Governor Modyford that the Spaniards had agreed to let them depart in a barque for Jamaica. However this may be, when the English came to lay down their arms they were made prisoners by the Spaniards, carried to Porto Bello, and all except Sir Thomas Whetstone, Major Smith and Captain Stanley, the three English captains, submitted to the most inhuman cruelties. Thirty-three were chained to the ground in a dungeon 12 feet by 10. They were forced to work in the water from five in the morning till seven at night, and at such a rate that the Spaniards themselves confessed they made one of them do more work than any three negroes; yet when weak for want of victuals and sleep, they were knocked down and beaten with cudgels so that four or five died. "Having no clothes, their backs were blistered with the sun, their heads scorched, their necks, shoulders and hands raw with carrying stones and mortar, their feet chopped and their legs bruised and battered with the irons, and their corpses were noisome to one another." The three English captains were carried to Panama, and there cast into a dungeon and bound in irons for seventeen months.[258] On 8th January 1664 Sir Richard Fanshaw, formerly ambassador to Portugal, had arrived in Madrid from England to negotiate a treaty of commerce with Spain, and if possible to patch up a peace between the Spanish and Portuguese crowns. He had renewed the old demand for a free commerce in the Indies; and the negotiations had dragged through the years of 1664 and 1665, hampered and crossed by the factions in the Spanish court, the hostile machinations of the Dutch resident in Madrid, and the constant rumours of cruelties and desolations by the freebooters in America.[259] The Spanish Government insisted that by sole virtue of the articles of 1630 there was peace on both sides of the "Line," and that the violences of the buccaneers in the West Indies, and even the presence of English colonists there, was a breach of the articles. In this fashion they endeavoured to reduce Fanshaw to the position of a suppliant for favours which they might only out of their grace and generosity concede. It was a favourite trick of Spanish diplomacy, which had been worked many times before. The English ambassador was, in consequence, compelled strenuously to deny the existence of any peace in America, although he realised how ambiguous his position had been rendered by the original orders of Charles II. to Modyford in 1664.[260] After the death of Philip IV. in 1665, negotiations were renewed with the encouragement of the Queen Regent, and on 17th December provisional articles were signed by Fanshaw and the Duke de Medina de los Torres and sent to England for ratification.[261] Fanshaw died shortly after, and Lord Sandwich, his successor, finally succeeded in concluding a treaty on 23rd May 1667.[262] The provisions of the treaty extended to places "where hitherto trade and commerce hath been accustomed," and the only privileges obtained in America were those which had been granted to the Low Countries by the Treaty of Munster. On 21st July of the same year a general peace was concluded at Breda between England, Holland and France. It was in the very midst of Lord Sandwich's negotiations that Modyford had, as Beeston expresses it in his Journal, declared war against the Spaniards by the re-issue of privateering commissions. He had done it all in his own name, however, so that the king might disavow him should the exigencies of diplomacy demand it.[263] Moreover, at this same time, in the middle of 1666, Albemarle was writing to Modyford that notwithstanding the negotiations, in which, as he said, the West Indies were not at all concerned, the governor might still employ the privateers as formerly, if it be for the benefit of English interests in the Indies.[264] The news of the general peace reached Jamaica late in 1667; yet Modyford did not change his policy. It is true that in February Secretary Lord Arlington had sent directions to restrain the buccaneers from further acts of violence against the Spaniards;[265] but Modyford drew his own conclusions from the contradictory orders received from England, and was conscious, perhaps, that he was only reflecting the general policy of the home government when he wrote to Arlington:--"Truly it must be very imprudent to run the hazard of this place, for obtaining a correspondence which could not but by orders from Madrid be had.... The Spaniards look on us as intruders and trespassers, wheresoever they find us in the Indies, and use us accordingly; and were it in their power, as it is fixed in their wills, would soon turn us out of all our plantations; and is it reasonable that we should quietly let them grow upon us until they are able to do it? It must be force alone that can cut in sunder that unneighbourly maxim of their government to deny all access to strangers."[266] These words were very soon translated into action, for in June 1668 Henry Morgan, with a fleet of nine or ten ships and between 400 and 500 men, took and sacked Porto Bello, one of the strongest cities of Spanish America, and the emporium for most of the European trade of the South American continent. Henry Morgan was a nephew of the Colonel Edward Morgan who died in the assault of St. Eustatius. He is said to have been kidnapped at Bristol while he was a mere lad and sold as a servant in Barbadoes, whence, on the expiration of his time, he found his way to Jamaica. There he joined the buccaneers and soon rose to be captain of a ship. It was probably he who took part in the expedition with Morris and Jackman to Campeache and Central America. He afterwards joined the Curaçao armament of Mansfield and was with the latter when he seized the island of Providence. After Mansfield's disappearance Morgan seems to have taken his place as the foremost buccaneer leader in Jamaica, and during the next twenty years he was one of the most considerable men in the colony. He was but thirty-three years old when he led the expedition against Porto Bello.[267] In the beginning of 1668 Sir Thomas Modyford, having had "frequent and strong advice" that the Spaniards were planning an invasion of Jamaica, had commissioned Henry Morgan to draw together the English privateers and take some Spanish prisoners in order to find out if these rumours were true. The buccaneers, according to Morgan's own report to the governor, were driven to the south cays of Cuba, where being in want of victuals and "like to starve," and meeting some Frenchmen in a similar plight, they put their men ashore to forage. They found all the cattle driven up into the country, however, and the inhabitants fled. So the freebooters marched twenty leagues to Puerto Principe on the north side of the island, and after a short encounter, in which the Spanish governor was killed, possessed themselves of the place. Nothing of value escaped the rapacity of the invaders, who resorted to the extremes of torture to draw from their prisoners confessions of hidden wealth. On the entreaty of the Spaniards they forebore to fire the town, and for a ransom of 1000 head of cattle released all the prisoners; but they compelled the Spaniards to salt the beef and carry it to the ships.[268] Morgan reported, with what degree of truth we have no means of judging, that seventy men had been impressed in Puerto Principe to go against Jamaica, and that a similar levy had been made throughout the island. Considerable forces, moreover, were expected from the mainland to rendezvous at Havana and St. Jago, with the final object of invading the English colony. On returning to the ships from the sack of Puerto Principe, Morgan unfolded to his men his scheme of striking at the very heart of Spanish power in the Indies by capturing Porto Bello. The Frenchmen among his followers, it seems, wholly refused to join him in this larger design, full of danger as it was; so Morgan sailed away with only the English freebooters, some 400 in number, for the coasts of Darien. Exquemelin has left us a narrative of this exploit which is more circumstantial than any other we possess, and agrees so closely with what we know from other sources that we must accept the author's statement that he was an eye-witness. He relates the whole story, moreover, in so entertaining and picturesque a manner that he deserves quotation. "Captain Morgan," he says, "who knew very well all the avenues of this city, as also all the neighbouring coasts, arrived in the dusk of the evening at the place called Puerto de Naos, distant ten leagues towards the west of Porto Bello.[269] Being come unto this place, they mounted the river in their ships, as far as another harbour called Puerto Pontin, where they came to anchor. Here they put themselves immediately into boats and canoes, leaving in the ships only a few men to keep them and conduct them the next day unto the port. About midnight they came to a certain place called Estera longa Lemos, where they all went on shore, and marched by land to the first posts of the city. They had in their company a certain Englishman, who had been formerly a prisoner in those parts, and who now served them for a guide. Unto him, and three or four more, they gave commission to take the sentry, if possible, or to kill him upon the place. But they laid hands on him and apprehended him with such cunning as he had no time to give warning with his musket, or make any other noise. Thus they brought him, with his hands bound, unto Captain Morgan, who asked him: 'How things went in the city, and what forces they had'; with many other circumstances, which he was desirous to know. After every question they made him a thousand menaces to kill him, in case he declared not the truth. Thus they began to advance towards the city, carrying always the said sentry bound before them. Having marched about one quarter of a league, they came to the castle that is nigh unto the city, which presently they closely surrounded, so that no person could get either in or out of the said fortress. "Being thus posted under the walls of the castle, Captain Morgan commanded the sentry, whom they had taken prisoner, to speak to those that were within, charging them to surrender, and deliver themselves up to his discretion; otherwise they should be all cut in pieces, without giving quarter to any one. But they would hearken to none of these threats, beginning instantly to fire; which gave notice unto the city, and this was suddenly alarmed. Yet, notwithstanding, although the Governor and soldiers of the said castle made as great resistance as could be performed, they were constrained to surrender unto the Pirates. These no sooner had taken the castle, than they resolved to be as good as their words, in putting the Spaniards to the sword, thereby to strike a terror into the rest of the city. Hereupon, having shut up all the soldiers and officers as prisoners into one room, they instantly set fire to the powder (whereof they found great quantity), and blew up the whole castle into the air, with all the Spaniards that were within. This being done, they pursued the course of their victory, falling upon the city, which as yet was not in order to receive them. Many of the inhabitants cast their precious jewels and moneys into wells and cisterns or hid them in other places underground, to excuse, as much as were possible, their being totally robbed. One party of the Pirates being assigned to this purpose, ran immediately to the cloisters, and took as many religious men and women as they could find. The Governor of the city not being able to rally the citizens, through the huge confusion of the town, retired unto one of the castles remaining, and from thence began to fire incessantly at the Pirates. But these were not in the least negligent either to assault him or defend themselves with all the courage imaginable. Thus it was observed that, amidst the horror of the assault, they made very few shot in vain. For aiming with great dexterity at the mouths of the guns, the Spaniards were certain to lose one or two men every time they charged each gun anew. "The assault of this castle where the Governor was continued very furious on both sides, from break of day until noon. Yea, about this time of the day the case was very dubious which party should conquer or be conquered. At last the Pirates, perceiving they had lost many men and as yet advanced but little towards the gaining either this or the other castles remaining, thought to make use of fireballs, which they threw with their hands, designing, if possible, to burn the doors of the castle. But going about to put this in execution, the Spaniards from the walls let fall great quantity of stones and earthen pots full of powder and other combustible matter, which forced them to desist from that attempt. Captain Morgan, seeing this generous defence made by the Spaniards, began to despair of the whole success of the enterprise. Hereupon many faint and calm meditations came into his mind; neither could he determine which way to turn himself in that straitness of affairs. Being involved in these thoughts, he was suddenly animated to continue the assault, by seeing the English colours put forth at one of the lesser castles, then entered by his men, of whom he presently after spied a troop that came to meet him proclaiming victory with loud shouts of joy. This instantly put him upon new resolutions of making new efforts to take the rest of the castles that stood out against him; especially seeing the chief citizens were fled unto them, and had conveyed thither great part of their riches, with all the plate belonging to the churches, and other things dedicated to divine service. "To this effect, therefore, he ordered ten or twelve ladders to be made, in all possible haste, so broad that three or four men at once might ascend by them. These being finished, he commanded all the religious men and women whom he had taken prisoners to fix them against the walls of the castle. Thus much he had beforehand threatened the Governor to perform, in case he delivered not the castle. But his answer was: 'He would never surrender himself alive.' Captain Morgan was much persuaded that the Governor would not employ his utmost forces, seeing religious women and ecclesiastical persons exposed in the front of the soldiers to the greatest dangers. Thus the ladders, as I have said, were put into the hands of religious persons of both sexes; and these were forced, at the head of the companies, to raise and apply them to the walls. But Captain Morgan was deceived in his judgment of this design. For the Governor, who acted like a brave and courageous soldier, refused not, in performance of his duty, to use his utmost endeavours to destroy whosoever came near the walls. The religious men and women ceased not to cry unto him and beg of him by all the Saints of Heaven he would deliver the castle, and hereby spare both his and their own lives. But nothing could prevail with the obstinacy and fierceness that had possessed the Governor's mind. Thus many of the religious men and nuns were killed before they could fix the ladders. Which at last being done, though with great loss of the said religious people, the Pirates mounted them in great numbers, and with no less valour; having fireballs in their hands, and earthen pots full of powder. All which things, being now at the top of the walls, they kindled and cast in among the Spaniards. "This effort of the Pirates was very great, insomuch as the Spaniards could no longer resist nor defend the castle, which was now entered. Hereupon they all threw down their arms, and craved quarter for their lives. Only the Governor of the city would admit or crave no mercy; but rather killed many of the Pirates with his own hands, and not a few of his own soldiers, because they did not stand to their arms. And although the Pirates asked him if he would have quarter, yet he constantly answered: 'By no means; I had rather die as a valiant soldier, than be hanged as a coward.' They endeavoured as much as they could to take him prisoner. But he defended himself so obstinately that they were forced to kill him; notwithstanding all the cries and tears of his own wife and daughter, who begged of him upon their knees he would demand quarter and save his life. When the Pirates had possessed themselves of the castle, which was about night, they enclosed therein all the prisoners they had taken, placing the women and men by themselves, with some guards upon them. All the wounded were put into a certain apartment by itself, to the intent their own complaints might be the cure of their diseases; for no other was afforded them. "This being done, they fell to eating and drinking after their usual manner; that is to say, committing in both these things all manner of debauchery and excess.... After such manner they delivered themselves up unto all sort of debauchery, that if there had been found only fifty courageous men, they might easily have re-taken the city, and killed all the Pirates. The next day, having plundered all they could find, they began to examine some of the prisoners (who had been persuaded by their companions to say they were the richest of the town), charging them severely to discover where they had hidden their riches and goods. But not being able to extort anything out of them, as they were not the right persons that possessed any wealth, they at last resolved to torture them. This they performed with such cruelty that many of them died upon the rack, or presently after. Soon after, the President of Panama had news brought him of the pillage and ruin of Porto Bello. This intelligence caused him to employ all his care and industry to raise forces, with design to pursue and cast out the Pirates from thence. But these cared little for what extraordinary means the President used, as having their ships nigh at hand, and being determined to set fire unto the city and retreat. They had now been at Porto Bello fifteen days, in which space of time they had lost many of their men, both by the unhealthiness of the country and the extravagant debaucheries they had committed.[270] "Hereupon they prepared for a departure, carrying on board their ships all the pillage they had gotten. But, before all, they provided the fleet with sufficient victuals for the voyage. While these things were getting ready, Captain Morgan sent an injunction unto the prisoners, that they should pay him a ransom for the city, or else he would by fire consume it to ashes, and blow up all the castles into the air. Withal, he commanded them to send speedily two persons to seek and procure the sum he demanded, which amounted to one hundred thousand pieces of eight. Unto this effect, two men were sent to the President of Panama, who gave him an account of all these tragedies. The President, having now a body of men in readiness, set forth immediately towards Porto Bello, to encounter the Pirates before their retreat. But these people, hearing of his coming, instead of flying away, went out to meet him at a narrow passage through which of necessity he ought to pass. Here they placed an hundred men very well armed; the which, at the first encounter, put to flight a good party of those of Panama. This accident obliged the President to retire for that time, as not being yet in a posture of strength to proceed any farther. Presently after this rencounter he sent a message unto Captain Morgan to tell him: 'That in case he departed not suddenly with all his forces from Porto Bello, he ought to expect no quarter for himself nor his companions, when he should take them, as he hoped soon to do.' Captain Morgan, who feared not his threats knowing he had a secure retreat in his ships which were nigh at hand, made him answer: 'He would not deliver the castles, before he had received the contribution money he had demanded. Which in case it were not paid down, he would certainly burn the whole city, and then leave it, demolishing beforehand the castles and killing the prisoners.' "The Governor of Panama perceived by this answer that no means would serve to mollify the hearts of the Pirates, nor reduce them to reason. Hereupon he determined to leave them; as also those of the city, whom he came to relieve, involved in the difficulties of making the best agreement they could with their enemies.[271] Thus, in a few days more, the miserable citizens gathered the contribution wherein they were fined, and brought the entire sum of one hundred thousand pieces of eight unto the Pirates, for a ransom of the cruel captivity they were fallen into. But the President of Panama, by these transactions, was brought into an extreme admiration, considering that four hundred men had been able to take such a great city, with so many strong castles; especially seeing they had no pieces of cannon, nor other great guns, wherewith to raise batteries against them. And what was more, knowing that the citizens of Porto Bello had always great repute of being good soldiers themselves, and who had never wanted courage in their own defence. This astonishment was so great, that it occasioned him, for to be satisfied therein, to send a messenger unto Captain Morgan, desiring him to send him some small pattern of those arms wherewith he had taken with such violence so great a city. Captain Morgan received this messenger very kindly, and treated him with great civility. Which being done, he gave him a pistol and a few small bullets of lead, to carry back unto the President, his Master, telling him withal: 'He desired him to accept that slender pattern of the arms wherewith he had taken Porto Bello and keep them for a twelvemonth; after which time he promised to come to Panama and fetch them away.' The governor of Panama returned the present very soon unto Captain Morgan, giving him thanks for the favour of lending him such weapons as he needed not, and withal sent him a ring of gold, with this message: 'That he desired him not to give himself the labour of coming to Panama, as he had done to Porto Bello; for he did certify unto him, he should not speed so well here as he had done there.' "After these transactions, Captain Morgan (having provided his fleet with all necessaries, and taken with him the best guns of the castles, nailing the rest which he could not carry away) set sail from Porto Bello with all his ships. With these he arrived in a few days unto the Island of Cuba, where he sought out a place wherein with all quiet and repose he might make the dividend of the spoil they had gotten. They found in ready money two hundred and fifty thousand pieces of eight, besides all other merchandises, as cloth, linen, silks and other goods. With this rich purchase they sailed again from thence unto their common place of rendezvous, Jamaica. Being arrived, they passed here some time in all sorts of vices and debauchery, according to their common manner of doing, spending with huge prodigality what others had gained with no small labour and toil."[272] Morgan and his officers, on their return to Jamaica in the middle of August, made an official report which places their conduct in a peculiarly mild and charitable light,[273] and forms a sharp contrast to the account left us by Exquemelin. According to Morgan the town and castles were restored "in as good condition as they found them," and the people were so well treated that "several ladies of great quality and other prisoners" who were offered "their liberty to go to the President's camp, refused, saying they were now prisoners to a person of quality, who was more tender of their honours than they doubted to find in the president's camp, and so voluntarily continued with them till the surrender of the town and castles." This scarcely tallies with what we know of the manners of the freebooters, and Exquemelin's evidence is probably nearer the truth. When Morgan returned to Jamaica Modyford at first received him somewhat doubtfully, for Morgan's commission, as the Governor told him, was only against ships, and the Governor was not at all sure how the exploit would be taken in England. Morgan, however, had reported that at Porto Bello, as well as in Cuba, levies were being made for an attack upon Jamaica, and Modyford laid great stress upon this point when he forwarded the buccaneer's narrative to the Duke of Albemarle. The sack of Porto Bello was nothing less than an act of open war against Spain, and Modyford, now that he had taken the decisive step, was not satisfied with half measures. Before the end of October 1668 the whole fleet of privateers, ten sail and 800 men, had gone out again under Morgan to cruise on the coasts of Caracas, while Captain Dempster with several other vessels and 300 followers lay before Havana and along the shores of Campeache.[274] Modyford had written home repeatedly that if the king wished him to exercise any adequate control over the buccaneers, he must send from England two or three nimble fifth-rate frigates to command their obedience and protect the island from hostile attacks. Charles in reply to these letters sent out the "Oxford," a frigate of thirty-four guns, which arrived at Port Royal on 14th October. According to Beeston's Journal, it brought instructions countenancing the war, and empowering the governor to commission whatever persons he thought good to be partners with His Majesty in the plunder, "they finding victuals, wear and tear."[275] The frigate was immediately provisioned for a several months' cruise, and sent under command of Captain Edward Collier to join Morgan's fleet as a private ship-of-war. Morgan had appointed the Isle la Vache, or Cow Island, on the south side of Hispaniola, as the rendezvous for the privateers; and thither flocked great numbers, both English and French, for the name of Morgan was, by his exploit at Porto Bello, rendered famous in all the neighbouring islands. Here, too, arrived the "Oxford" in December. Among the French privateers were two men-of-war, one of which, the "Cour Volant" of La Rochelle, commanded by M. la Vivon, was seized by Captain Collier for having robbed an English vessel of provisions. A few days later, on 2nd January, a council of war was held aboard the "Oxford," where it was decided that the privateers, now numbering about 900 men, should attack Cartagena. While the captains were at dinner on the quarter-deck, however, the frigate blew up, and about 200 men, including five captains, were lost.[276] "I was eating my dinner with the rest," writes the surgeon, Richard Browne, "when the mainmasts blew out, and fell upon Captains Aylett, Bigford, and others, and knocked them on the head; I saved myself by getting astride the mizzenmast." It seems that out of the whole ship only Morgan and those who sat on his side of the table were saved. The accident was probably caused by the carelessness of a gunner. Captain Collier sailed in la Vivon's ship for Jamaica, where the French captain was convicted of piracy in the Admiralty Court, and reprieved by Governor Modyford, but his ship confiscated.[277] Morgan, from the rendezvous at the Isle la Vache, had coasted along the southern shores of Hispaniola and made several inroads upon the island for the purpose of securing beef and other provisions. Some of his ships, meanwhile, had been separated from the body of the fleet, and at last he found himself with but eight vessels and 400 or 500 men, scarcely more than half his original company. With these small numbers he changed his resolution to attempt Cartagena, and set sail for Maracaibo, a town situated on the great lagoon of that name in Venezuela. This town had been pillaged in 1667, just before the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, by 650 buccaneers led by two French captains, L'Olonnais and Michel le Basque, and had suffered all the horrors attendant upon such a visit. In March 1669 Morgan appeared at the entrance to the lake, forced the passage after a day's hot bombardment, dismantled the fort which commanded it, and entered Maracaibo, from which the inhabitants had fled before him. The buccaneers sacked the town, and scoured the woods in search of the Spaniards and their valuables. Men, women and children were brought in and cruelly tortured to make them confess where their treasures were hid. Morgan, at the end of three weeks, "having now got by degrees into his hands about 100 of the chief families," resolved to go to Gibraltar, near the head of the lake, as L'Olonnais had done before him. Here the scenes of inhuman cruelty, "the tortures, murders, robberies and such like insolences," were repeated for five weeks; after which the buccaneers, gathering up their rich booty, returned to Maracaibo, carrying with them four hostages for the ransom of the town and prisoners, which the inhabitants promised to send after them. At Maracaibo Morgan learnt that three large Spanish men-of-war were lying off the entrance of the lake, and that the fort, in the meantime, had been armed and manned and put into a posture of defence. In order to gain time he entered into negotiations with the Spanish admiral, Don Alonso del Campo y Espinosa, while the privateers carefully made ready a fireship disguised as a man-of-war. At dawn on 1st May 1669, according to Exquemelin, they approached the Spanish ships riding at anchor within the entry of the lake, and sending the fireship ahead of the rest, steered directly for them. The fireship fell foul of the "Almirante," a vessel of forty guns, grappled with her and set her in flames. The second Spanish ship, when the plight of the Admiral was discovered, was run aground and burnt by her own men. The third was captured by the buccaneers. As no quarter was given or taken, the loss of the Spaniards must have been considerable, although some of those on the Admiral, including Don Alonso, succeeded in reaching shore. From a pilot picked up by the buccaneers, Morgan learned that in the flagship was a great quantity of plate to the value of 40,000 pieces of eight. Of this he succeeded in recovering about half, much of it melted by the force of the heat. Morgan then returned to Maracaibo to refit his prize, and opening negotiations again with Don Alonso, he actually succeeded in obtaining 20,000 pieces of eight and 500 head of cattle as a ransom for the city. Permission to pass the fort, however, the Spaniard refused. So, having first made a division of the spoil,[278] Morgan resorted to an ingenious stratagem to effect his egress from the lake. He led the Spaniards to believe that he was landing his men for an attack on the fort from the land side; and while the Spaniards were moving their guns in that direction, Morgan in the night, by the light of the moon, let his ships drop gently down with the tide till they were abreast of the fort, and then suddenly spreading sail made good his escape. On 17th May the buccaneers returned to Port Royal. These events in the West Indies filled the Spanish Court with impotent rage, and the Conde de Molina, ambassador in England, made repeated demands for the punishment of Modyford, and for the restitution of the plate and other captured goods which were beginning to flow into England from Jamaica. The English Council replied that the treaty of 1667 was not understood to include the Indies, and Charles II. sent him a long list of complaints of ill-usage to English ships at the hands of the Spaniards in America.[279] Orders seem to have been sent to Modyford, however, to stop hostilities, for in May 1669 Modyford again called in all commissions,[280] and Beeston writes in his Journal, under 14th June, that peace was publicly proclaimed with the Spaniards. In November, moreover, the governor told Albemarle that most of the buccaneers were turning to trade, hunting or planting, and that he hoped soon to reduce all to peaceful pursuits.[281] The Spanish Council of State, in the meantime, had determined upon a course of active reprisal. A commission from the queen-regent, dated 20th April 1669, commanded her governors in the Indies to make open war against the English;[282] and a fleet of six vessels, carrying from eighteen to forty-eight guns, was sent from Spain to cruise against the buccaneers. To this fleet belonged the three ships which tried to bottle up Morgan in Lake Maracaibo. Port Royal was filled with report and rumour of English ships captured and plundered, of cruelties to English prisoners in the dungeons of Cartagena, of commissions of war issued at Porto Bello and St. Jago de Cuba, and of intended reprisals upon the settlements in Jamaica. The privateers became restless and spoke darkly of revenge, while Modyford, his old supporter the Duke of Albemarle having just died, wrote home begging for orders which would give him liberty to retaliate.[283] The last straw fell in June 1670, when two Spanish men-of-war from St. Jago de Cuba, commanded by a Portuguese, Manuel Rivero Pardal, landed men on the north side of the island, burnt some houses and carried off a number of the inhabitants as prisoners.[284] On 2nd July the governor and council issued a commission to Henry Morgan, as commander-in-chief of all ships of war belonging to Jamaica, to get together the privateers for the defence of the island, to attack, seize and destroy all the enemy's vessels he could discover, and in case he found it feasible, "to land and attack St. Jago or any other place where ... are stores for this war or a rendezvous for their forces." In the accompanying instructions he was bidden "to advise his fleet and soldiers that they were upon the old pleasing account of no purchase, no pay, and therefore that all which is got, shall be divided amongst them, according to the accustomed rules."[285] Morgan sailed from Jamaica on 14th August 1670 with eleven vessels and 600 men for the Isle la Vache, the usual rendezvous, whence during the next three months squadrons were detailed to the coast of Cuba and the mainland of South America to collect provisions and intelligence. Sir William Godolphin was at that moment in Madrid concluding articles for the establishment of peace and friendship in America; and on 12th June Secretary Arlington wrote to Modyford that in view of these negotiations his Majesty commanded the privateers to forbear all hostilities on land against the Spaniards.[286] These orders reached Jamaica on 13th August, whereupon the governor recalled Morgan, who had sailed from the harbour the day before, and communicated them to him, "strictly charging him to observe the same and behave with all moderation possible in carrying on the war." The admiral replied that necessity would compel him to land in the Spaniards' country for wood, water and provisions, but unless he was assured that the enemy in their towns were making hostile preparations against the Jamaicans, he would not touch any of them.[287] On 6th September, however, Vice-Admiral Collier with six sail and 400 men was dispatched by Morgan to the Spanish Main. There on 4th November he seized, in the harbour of Santa Marta, two frigates laden with provisions for Maracaibo. Then coasting eastward to Rio de la Hacha, he attacked and captured the fort with its commander and all its garrison, sacked the city, held it to ransom for salt, maize, meat and other provisions, and after occupying it for almost a month returned on 28th October to the Isle la Vache.[288] One of the frigates captured at Santa Marta, "La Gallardina," had been with Pardal when he burnt the coast of Jamaica. Pardal's own ship of fourteen guns had been captured but a short time before by Captain John Morris at the east end of Cuba, and Pardal himself shot through the neck and killed.[289] He was called by the Jamaicans "the vapouring admiral of St. Jago," for in June he had nailed a piece of canvas to a tree on the Jamaican coast, with a curious challenge written both in English and Spanish:-- "I, Captain Manuel Rivero Pardal, to the chief of the squadron of privateers in Jamaica. I am he who this year have done that which follows. I went on shore at Caimanos, and burnt 20 houses, and fought with Captain Ary, and took from him a catch laden with provisions and a canoe. And I am he who took Captain Baines and did carry the prize to Cartagena, and now am arrived to this coast, and have burnt it. And I come to seek General Morgan, with 2 ships of 20 guns, and having seen this, I crave he would come out upon the coast and seek me, that he might see the valour of the Spaniards. And because I had no time I did not come to the mouth of Port Royal to speak by word of mouth in the name of my king, whom God preserve. Dated the 5th of July 1670."[290] Meanwhile, in the middle of October, there sailed into Port Royal three privateers, Captains Prince, Harrison and Ludbury, who six weeks before had ascended the river San Juan in Nicaragua with 170 men and again plundered the unfortunate city of Granada. The town had rapidly decayed, however, under the repeated assaults of the buccaneers, and the plunderers secured only £20 or £30 per man. Modyford reproved the captains for acting without commissions, but "not deeming it prudent to press the matter too far in this juncture," commanded them to join Morgan at the Isle la Vache.[291] There Morgan was slowly mustering his strength. He negotiated with the French of Tortuga and Hispaniola who were then in revolt against the _régime_ of the French Company; and he added to his forces seven ships and 400 men sent him by the indefatigable Governor of Jamaica. On 7th October, indeed, the venture was almost ruined by a violent storm which cast the whole fleet, except the Admiral's vessel, upon the shore. All of the ships but three, however, were eventually got off and repaired, and on 6th December Morgan was able to write to Modyford that he had 1800 buccaneers, including several hundred French, and thirty-six ships under his command.[292] Upon consideration of the reports brought from the Main by his own men, and the testimony of prisoners they had taken, Morgan decided that it was impossible to attempt what seems to have been his original design, a descent upon St. Jago de Cuba, without great loss of men and ships. On 2nd December, therefore, it was unanimously agreed by a general council of all the captains, thirty-seven in number, "that it stands most for the good of Jamaica and safety of us all to take Panama, the President thereof having granted several commissions against the English."[293] Six days later the fleet put to sea from Cape Tiburon, and on the morning of the 14th sighted Providence Island. The Spanish governor capitulated next day, on condition of being transported with his garrison to the mainland, and four of his soldiers who had formerly been banditti in the province of Darien agreed to become guides for the English.[294] After a delay of five days more, Lieutenant-Colonel Joseph Bradley, with between 400 and 500 men in three ships, was sent ahead by Morgan to the isthmus to seize the Castle of San Lorenzo, situated at the mouth of the Chagre river. The President of Panama, meanwhile, on 15th December, had received a messenger from the governor of Cartagena with news of the coming of the English.[295] The president immediately dispatched reinforcements to the Castle of Chagre, which arrived fifteen days before the buccaneers and raised its strength to over 350 men. Two hundred men were sent to Porto Bello, and 500 more were stationed at Venta Cruz and in ambuscades along the Chagre river to oppose the advance of the English. The president himself rose from a bed of sickness to head a reserve of 800, but most of his men were raw recruits without a professional soldier amongst them. This militia in a few days became so panic-stricken that one-third deserted in a night, and the president was compelled to retire to Panama. There the Spaniards managed to load some of the treasure upon two or three ships lying in the roadstead; and the nuns and most of the citizens of importance also embarked with their wives, children and personal property.[296] The fort or castle of San Lorenzo, which stood on a hill commanding the river Chagre, seems to have been built of double rows of wooden palisades, the space between being filled with earth; and it was protected by a ditch 12 feet deep and by several smaller batteries nearer the water's edge. Lieutenant-Colonel Bradley, who, according to Exquemelin, had been on these coasts before with Captain Mansfield, landed near the fort on the 27th of December. He and his men fought in the trenches from early afternoon till eight o'clock next morning, when they stormed and carried the place. The buccaneers suffered severely, losing about 150 in killed and wounded, including Bradley himself who died ten days later. Exquemelin gives a very vivid account of the action. The buccaneers, he writes, "came to anchor in a small port, at the distance of a league more or less from the castle. The next morning very early they went on shore, and marched through the woods, to attack the castle on that side. This march continued until two o'clock, afternoon, by reason of the difficulties of the way, and its mire and dirt. And although their guides served them exactly, notwithstanding they came so nigh the castle at first that they lost many of their men with the shot from the guns, they being in an open place where nothing could cover nor defend them. This much perplexed the Pirates ..." (but) "at last after many doubts and disputes among themselves they resolved to hazard the assault and their lives after a most desperate manner. Thus they advanced towards the castle, with their swords in one hand and fireballs in the other. The Spaniards defended themselves very briskly, ceasing not to fire at them with their great guns and muskets continually crying withal: 'Come on, ye English dogs, enemies to God and our King; let your other companions that are behind come on too, ye shall not go to Panama this bout.' After the Pirates had made some trial to climb up the walls, they were forced to retreat, which they accordingly did, resting themselves until night. This being done, they returned to the assault, to try if by the help of their fireballs they could overcome and pull down the pales before the wall. This they attempted to do, and while they were about it there happened a very remarkable accident, which gave them the opportunity of the victory. One of the Pirates was wounded with an arrow in his back, which pierced his body to the other side. This he instantly pulled out with great valour at the side of his breast; then taking a little cotton that he had about him, he wound it about the said arrow, and putting it into his musket, he shot it back into the castle. But the cotton being kindled by the powder, occasioned two or three houses that were within the castle, being thatched with palm-leaves, to take fire, which the Spaniards perceived not so soon as was necessary. For this fire meeting with a parcel of powder, blew it up and thereby caused great ruin, and no less consternation to the Spaniards, who were not able to account for this accident, not having seen the beginning thereof. "Thus the Pirates perceiving the good effect of the arrow and the beginning of the misfortune of the Spaniards, were infinitely gladdened thereat. And while they were busied in extinguishing the fire, which caused great confusion in the whole castle, having not sufficient water wherewithal to do it, the Pirates made use of this opportunity, setting fire likewise to the palisades. Thus the fire was seen at the same time in several parts about the castle, which gave them huge advantage against the Spaniards. For many breaches were made at once by the fire among the pales, great heaps of earth falling down into the ditch. Upon these the Pirates climbed up, and got over into the castle, notwithstanding that some Spaniards, who were not busied about the fire, cast down upon them many flaming pots, full of combustible matter and odious smells, which occasioned the loss of many of the English. "The Spaniards, notwithstanding the great resistance they made, could not hinder the palisades from being entirely burnt before midnight. Meanwhile the Pirates ceased not to persist in their intention of taking the castle. Unto which effect, although the fire was great, they would creep upon the ground, as nigh unto it as they could, and shoot amidst the flames, against the Spaniards they could perceive on the other side, and thus cause many to fall dead from the walls. When day was come, they observed all the moveable earth that lay between the pales to be fallen into the ditch in huge quantity. So that now those within the castle did in a manner lie equally exposed to them without, as had been on the contrary before. Whereupon the Pirates continued shooting very furiously against them, and killed great numbers of Spaniards. For the Governor had given them orders not to retire from those posts which corresponded to the heaps of earth fallen into the ditch, and caused the artillery to be transported unto the breaches. "Notwithstanding, the fire within the castle still continued, and now the Pirates from abroad used what means they could to hinder its progress, by shooting incessantly against it. One party of the Pirates was employed only to this purpose, and another commanded to watch all the motions of the Spaniards, and take all opportunities against them. About noon the English happened to gain a breach, which the Governor himself defended with twenty-five soldiers. Here was performed a very courageous and warlike resistance by the Spaniards, both with muskets, pikes, stones and swords. Yet notwithstanding, through all these arms the Pirates forced and fought their way, till at last they gained the castle. The Spaniards who remained alive cast themselves down from the castle into the sea, choosing rather to die precipitated by their own selves (few or none surviving the fall) than to ask any quarter for their lives. The Governor himself retreated unto the corps du garde, before which were placed two pieces of cannon. Here he intended still to defend himself, neither would he demand any quarter. But at last he was killed with a musket shot, which pierced his skull into the brain. "The Governor being dead, and the corps du garde surrendered, they found still remaining in it alive to the number of thirty men, whereof scarce ten were not wounded. These informed the Pirates that eight or nine of their soldiers had deserted their colours, and were gone to Panama to carry news of their arrival and invasion. These thirty men alone were remaining of three hundred and fourteen, wherewith the castle was garrisoned, among which number not one officer was found alive. These were all made prisoners, and compelled to tell whatsoever they knew of their designs and enterprises."[297] Five days after the taking of the castle, Morgan arrived from Providence Island with the rest of the armament; but at the entrance to the Chagre river, in passing over the bar, his flagship and five or six smaller boats were wrecked, and ten men were drowned. After repairing and provisioning the castle, and leaving 300 men to guard it and the ships, Morgan, on 9th January 1671, at the head of 1400 men, began the ascent of the river in seven small vessels and thirty-six canoes.[298] The story of this brilliant march we will again leave to Exquemelin, who took part in it, to relate. The first day "they sailed only six leagues, and came to a place called De los Bracos. Here a party of his men went on shore, only to sleep some few hours and stretch their limbs, they being almost crippled with lying too much crowded in the boats. After they had rested awhile, they went abroad, to see if any victuals could be found in the neighbouring plantations. But they could find none, the Spaniards being fled and carrying with them all the provisions they had. This day, being the first of their journey, there was amongst them such scarcity of victuals that the greatest part were forced to pass with only a pipe of tobacco, without any other refreshment. "The next day, very early in the morning, they continued their journey, and came about evening to a place called Cruz de Juan Gallego. Here they were compelled to leave their boats and canoes, by reason the river was very dry for want of rain, and the many obstacles of trees that were fallen into it. The guides told them that about two leagues farther on the country would be very good to continue the journey by land. Hereupon they left some companies, being in all one hundred and sixty men,[299] on board the boats to defend them, with intent they might serve for a place of refuge in case of necessity. "The next morning, being the third day of their journey, they all went ashore, excepting those above-mentioned who were to keep the boats. Unto these Captain Morgan gave very strict orders, under great penalties, that no man, upon any pretext whatsoever, should dare to leave the boats and go ashore. This he did, fearing lest they should be surprised and cut off by an ambuscade of Spaniards, that might chance to lie thereabouts in the neighbouring woods, which appeared so thick as to seem almost impenetrable. Having this morning begun their march, they found the ways so dirty and irksome, that Captain Morgan thought it more convenient to transport some of the men in canoes (though it could not be done without great labour) to a place farther up the river, called Cedro Bueno. Thus they re-embarked, and the canoes returned for the rest that were left behind. So that about night they found themselves all together at the said place. The Pirates were extremely desirous to meet any Spaniards, or Indians, hoping to fill their bellies with what provisions they should take from them. For now they were reduced almost to the very extremity of hunger. "On the fourth day, the greatest part of the Pirates marched by land, being led by one of the guides. The rest went by water, farther up with the canoes, being conducted by another guide, who always went before them with two of the said canoes, to discover on both sides the river the ambuscades of the Spaniards. These had also spies, who were very dextrous, and could at any time give notice of all accidents or of the arrival of the Pirates, six hours at least before they came to any place. This day about noon they found themselves nigh unto a post, called Torna Cavallos. Here the guide of the canoes began to cry aloud he perceived an ambuscade. His voice caused infinite joy unto all the Pirates, as persuading themselves they should find some provisions wherewith to satiate their hunger, which was very great. Being come unto the place, they found nobody in it, the Spaniards who were there not long before being every one fled, and leaving nothing behind unless it were a small number of leather bags, all empty, and a few crumbs of bread scattered upon the ground where they had eaten.[300] Being angry at this misfortune, they pulled down a few little huts which the Spaniards had made, and afterwards fell to eating the leathern bags, as being desirous to afford something to the ferment of their stomachs, which now was grown so sharp that it did gnaw their very bowels, having nothing else to prey upon. Thus they made a huge banquet upon those bags of leather, which doubtless had been more grateful unto them, if divers quarrels had not risen concerning who should have the greatest share. By the circumference of the place they conjectured five hundred Spaniards, more or less, had been there. And these, finding no victuals, they were now infinitely desirous to meet, intending to devour some of them rather than perish. Whom they would certainly in that occasion have roasted or boiled, to satisfy their famine, had they been able to take them. "After they had feasted themselves with those pieces of leather, they quitted the place, and marched farther on, till they came about night to another post called Torna Munni. Here they found another ambuscade, but as barren and desert as the former. They searched the neighbouring woods, but could not find the least thing to eat. The Spaniards having been so provident as not to leave behind them anywhere the least crumb of sustenance, whereby the Pirates were now brought to the extremity aforementioned. Here again he was happy, that had reserved since noon any small piece of leather whereof to make his supper, drinking after it a good draught of water for his greatest comfort. Some persons who never were out of their mothers' kitchens may ask how these Pirates could eat, swallow and digest those pieces of leather, so hard and dry. Unto whom I only answer: That could they once experiment what hunger, or rather famine, is, they would certainly find the manner, by their own necessity, as the Pirates did. For these first took the leather, and sliced it in pieces. Then did they beat it between two stones and rub it, often dipping it in the water of the river, to render it by these means supple and tender. Lastly they scraped off the hair, and roasted or broiled it upon the fire. And being thus cooked they cut it into small morsels, and eat it, helping it down with frequent gulps of water, which by good fortune they had nigh at hand. "They continued their march the fifth day, and about noon came unto a place called Barbacoa. Here likewise they found traces of another ambuscade, but the place totally as unprovided as the two precedent were. At a small distance were to be seen several plantations, which they searched very narrowly, but could not find any person, animal or other thing that was capable of relieving their extreme and ravenous hunger. Finally, having ranged up and down and searched a long time, they found a certain grotto which seemed to be but lately hewn out of a rock, in which they found two sacks of meal, wheat and like things, with two great jars of wine, and certain fruits called Platanos. Captain Morgan, knowing that some of his men were now, through hunger, reduced almost to the extremity of their lives, and fearing lest the major part should be brought into the same condition, caused all that was found to be distributed amongst them who were in greatest necessity. Having refreshed themselves with these victuals, they began to march anew with greater courage than ever. Such as could not well go for weakness were put into the canoes, and those commanded to land that were in them before. Thus they prosecuted their journey till late at night, at which time they came unto a plantation where they took up their rest. But without eating anything at all; for the Spaniards, as before, had swept away all manner of provisions, leaving not behind them the least signs of victuals. "On the sixth day they continued their march, part of them by land through the woods, and part by water in the canoes. Howbeit they were constrained to rest themselves very frequently by the way, both for the ruggedness thereof and the extreme weakness they were under. Unto this they endeavoured to occur, by eating some leaves of trees and green herbs, or grass, such as they could pick, for such was the miserable condition they were in. This day, at noon, they arrived at a plantation, where they found a barn full of maize. Immediately they beat down the doors, and fell to eating of it dry, as much as they could devour. Afterwards they distributed great quantity, giving to every man a good allowance thereof. Being thus provided they prosecuted their journey, which having continued for the space of an hour or thereabouts, they met with an ambuscade of Indians. This they no sooner had discovered, but they threw away their maize, with the sudden hopes they conceived of finding all things in abundance. But after all this haste, they found themselves much deceived, they meeting neither Indians nor victuals, nor anything else of what they had imagined. They saw notwithstanding on the other side of the river a troop of a hundred Indians more or less, who all escaped away through the agility of their feet. Some few Pirates there were who leapt into the river, the sooner to reach the shore to see if they could take any of the said Indians prisoners. But all was in vain; for being much more nimble on their feet than the Pirates they easily baffled their endeavours. Neither did they only baffle them, but killed also two or three of the Pirates with their arrows, shooting at them at a distance, and crying: 'Ha! perros, a la savana, a la savana. Ha! ye dogs, go to the plain, go to the plain.' "This day they could advance no further, by reason they were necessitated to pass the river hereabouts to continue their march on the other side. Hereupon they took up their repose for that night. Howbeit their sleep was not heavy nor profound, for great murmurings were heard that night in the camp, many complaining of Captain Morgan and his conduct in that enterprise, and being desirous to return home. On the contrary, others would rather die there than go back one step from what they had undertaken. But others who had greater courage than any of these two parties did laugh and joke at all their discourses. In the meanwhile they had a guide who much comforted them, saying: 'It would not now be long before they met with people, from whom they should reap some considerable advantage.' "The seventh day in the morning they all made clean their arms, and every one discharged his pistol or musket without bullet, to examine the security of their firelocks. This being done, they passed to the other side of the river in the canoes, leaving the post where they had rested the night before, called Santa Cruz. Thus they proceeded on their journey till noon, at which time they arrived at a village called Cruz.[301] Being at a great distance as yet from the place, they perceived much smoke to arise out of the chimneys. The sight hereof afforded them great joy and hopes of finding people in the town, and afterwards what they most desired, which was plenty of good cheer. Thus they went on with as much haste as they could, making several arguments to one another upon those external signs, though all like castles built in the air. 'For,' said they, 'there is smoke coming out of every house, and therefore they are making good fires to roast and boil what we are to eat.' With other things to this purpose. "At length they arrived there in great haste, all sweating and panting, but found no person in the town, nor anything that was eatable wherewith to refresh themselves, unless it were good fires to warm themselves, which they wanted not. For the Spaniards before their departure, had every one set fire to his own house, excepting only the storehouses and stables belonging to the King. "They had not left behind them any beast whatsoever, either alive or dead. This occasioned much confusion in their minds, they not finding the least thing to lay hold on, unless it were some few cats and dogs, which they immediately killed and devoured with great appetite. At last in the King's stables they found by good fortune fifteen or sixteen jars of Peru wine, and a leather sack full of bread. But no sooner had they begun to drink of the said wine when they fell sick, almost every man. This sudden disaster made them think that the wine was poisoned, which caused a new consternation in the whole camp, as judging themselves now to be irrecoverably lost. But the true reason was, their huge want of sustenance in that whole voyage, and the manifold sorts of trash which they had eaten upon that occasion. Their sickness was so great that day as caused them to remain there till the next morning, without being able to prosecute their journey as they used to do, in the afternoon. This village is seated in the latitude in 9 degrees and 2 minutes, northern latitude, being distant from the river of Chagre twenty-six Spanish leagues, and eight from Panama. Moreover, this is the last place unto which boats or canoes can come; for which reason they built here store-houses, wherein to keep all sorts of merchandise, which from hence to and from Panama are transported upon the backs of mules. "Here therefore Captain Morgan was constrained to leave his canoes and land all his men, though never so weak in their bodies. But lest the canoes should be surprised, or take up too many men for their defence, he resolved to send them all back to the place where the boats were, excepting one, which he caused to be hidden, to the intent it might serve to carry intelligence according to the exigency of affairs. Many of the Spaniards and Indians belonging to this village were fled to the plantations thereabouts. Hereupon Captain Morgan gave express orders that none should dare to go out of the village, except in whole companies of a hundred together. The occasion hereof was his fear lest the enemy should take an advantage upon his men, by any sudden assault. Notwithstanding, one party of English soldiers stickled not to contravene these commands, being thereunto tempted with the desire of finding victuals. But these were soon glad to fly into the town again, being assaulted with great fury by some Spaniards and Indians, who snatched up one of the Pirates, and carried him away prisoner. Thus the vigilance and care of Captain Morgan was not sufficient to prevent every accident that might happen. "On the eighth day, in the morning, Captain Morgan sent two hundred men before the body of his army, to discover the way to Panama, and see if they had laid any ambuscades therein. Especially considering that the places by which they were to pass were very fit for that purpose, the paths being so narrow that only ten or twelve persons could march in a file, and oftentimes not so many. Having marched about the space of ten hours, they came unto a place called Quebrada Obscura. Here, all on a sudden, three or four thousand arrows were shot at them, without being able to perceive from whence they came, or who shot them. The place, from whence it was presumed they were shot was a high rocky mountain, excavated from one side to the other, wherein was a grotto that went through it, only capable of admitting one horse, or other beast laden. This multitude of arrows caused a huge alarm among the Pirates, especially because they could not discover the place from whence they were discharged. At last, seeing no more arrows to appear, they marched a little farther, and entered into a wood. Here they perceived some Indians to fly as fast as they could possible before them, to take the advantage of another post, and thence observe the march of the Pirates. There remained, notwithstanding one troop of Indians upon the place, with full design to fight and defend themselves. This combat they performed with huge courage, till such time as their captain fell to the ground wounded, who although he was now in despair of life, yet his valour being greater than his strength, would demand no quarter, but, endeavouring to raise himself, with undaunted mind laid hold of his azagaya, or javelin, and struck at one of the Pirates. But before he could second the blow, he was shot to death with a pistol. This was also the fate of many of his companions, who like good and courageous soldiers lost their lives with their captain, for the defence of their country. "The Pirates endeavoured, as much as was possible, to lay hold on some of the Indians and take them prisoners. But they being infinitely swifter than the Pirates, every one escaped, leaving eight Pirates dead upon the place and ten wounded.[302] Yea, had the Indians been more dextrous in military affairs, they might have defended that passage, and not let one sole man to pass. Within a little while after they came to a large campaign field open and full of variegated meadows. From here they could perceive at a distance before them a parcel of Indians who stood on the top of a mountain, very nigh unto the way by which the Pirates were to pass. They sent a troop of fifty men, the nimblest they could pick out, to see if they could catch any of them, and afterwards force them to declare whereabouts their companions had their mansions. But all their industry was in vain, for they escaped through their nimbleness, and presently after showed themselves in another place, hallooing unto the English, and crying: 'A la savana, a la savana, cornudos, perros Ingleses;' that is, 'To the plain, to the plain, ye cockolds, ye English dogs!' While these things passed, the ten Pirates that were wounded a little before were dressed and plastered up. "At this place there was a wood and on each side thereof a mountain. The Indians had possessed themselves of the one, and the Pirates took possession of the other that was opposite unto it. Captain Morgan was persuaded that in the wood the Spaniards had placed an ambuscade, as lying so conveniently for that purpose. Hereupon he sent before two hundred men to search it. The Spaniards and Indians, perceiving the Pirates to descend the mountain, did so too, as if they designed to attack them. But being got into the wood, out of sight of the Pirates, they disappeared, and were seen no more, leaving the passage open unto them. "About night there fell a great rain, which caused the Pirates to march the faster and seek everywhere for houses wherein to preserve their arms from being wet. But the Indians had set fire to every one thereabouts, and transported all their cattle unto remote places, to the end that the Pirates, finding neither houses nor victuals, might be constrained to return homewards. Notwithstanding, after diligent search, they found a few little huts belonging to shepherds, but in them nothing to eat. These not being capable of holding many men, they placed in them out of every company a small number, who kept the arms of the rest of the army. Those who remained in the open field endured much hardship that night, the rain not ceasing to fall until the morning. "The next morning, about break of day, being the ninth of this tedious journey, Captain Morgan continued his march while the fresh air of the morning lasted. For the clouds then hanging as yet over their heads were much more favourable unto them than the scorching rays of the sun, by reason the way was now more difficult and laborious than all the precedent. After two hours' march, they discovered a troop of about twenty Spaniards. who observed the motions of the Pirates. They endeavoured to catch some of them, but could lay hold on none, they suddenly disappearing, and absconding themselves in caves among the rocks, totally unknown to the Pirates. At last they came to a high mountain, which, when they ascended, they discovered from the top thereof the South Sea. This happy sight, as if it were the end of their labours, caused infinite joy among the Pirates. From hence they could descry also one ship and six boats, which were set forth from Panama, and sailed towards the islands of Tavoga and Tavogilla. Having descended this mountain, they came unto a vale, in which they found great quantity of cattle, whereof they killed good store. Here while some were employed in killing and flaying of cows, horses, bulls and chiefly asses, of which there was greatest number, others busied themselves in kindling of fires and getting wood wherewith to roast them. Thus cutting the flesh of these animals into convenient pieces, or gobbets, they threw them into the fire and, half carbonadoed or roasted, they devoured them with incredible haste and appetite. For such was their hunger that they more resembled cannibals than Europeans at this banquet, the blood many times running down from their beards to the middle of their bodies. "Having satisfied their hunger with these delicious meats, Captain Morgan ordered them to continue the march. Here again he sent before the main body fifty men, with intent to take some prisoners, if possibly they could. For he seemed now to be much concerned that in nine days' time he could not meet one person who might inform him of the condition and forces of the Spaniards. About evening they discovered a troop of two hundred Spaniards, more or less, who hallooed unto the Pirates, but these could not understand what they said. A little while after they came the first time within sight of the highest steeple of Panama. This steeple they no sooner had discovered but they began to show signs of extreme joy, casting up their hats into the air, leaping for mirth, and shouting, even just as if they had already obtained the victory and entire accomplishment of their designs. All their trumpets were sounded and every drum beaten, in token of this universal acclamation and huge alacrity of their minds. Thus they pitched their camp for that night with general content of the whole army, waiting with impatience for the morning, at which time they intended to attack the city. This evening there appeared fifty horse who came out of the city, hearing the noise of the drums and trumpets of the Pirates, to observe, as it was thought, their motions. They came almost within musket-shot of the army, being preceded by a trumpet that sounded marvellously well. Those on horseback hallooed aloud unto the Pirates, and threatened them, saying, 'Perros! nos veremos,' that is, 'Ye dogs! we shall meet ye.' Having made this menace they returned to the city, excepting only seven or eight horsemen who remained hovering thereabouts, to watch what motions the Pirates made. Immediately after, the city began to fire and ceased not to play with their biggest guns all night long against the camp, but with little or no harm unto the Pirates, whom they could not conveniently reach. About this time also the two hundred Spaniards whom the Pirates had seen in the afternoon appeared again within sight, making resemblance as if they would block up the passages, to the intent no Pirates might escape the hands of their forces. But the Pirates, who were now in a manner besieged, instead of conceiving any fear of their blockades, as soon as they had placed sentries about their camp, began every one to open their satchels, and without any preparation of napkins or plates, fell to eating very heartily the remaining pieces of bulls' and horses' flesh which they had reserved since noon. This being done, they laid themselves down to sleep upon the grass with great repose and huge satisfaction, expecting only with impatience for the dawnings of the next day. "On the tenth day, betimes in the morning, they put all their men in convenient order, and with drums and trumpets sounding, continued their march directly towards the city. But one of the guides desired Captain Morgan not to take the common highway that led thither, fearing lest they should find in it much resistance and many ambuscades. He presently took his advice, and chose another way that went through the wood, although very irksome and difficult. Thus the Spaniards, perceiving the Pirates had taken another way, which they scarce had thought on or believed, were compelled to leave their stops and batteries, and come out to meet them. The Governor of Panama put his forces in order, consisting of two squadrons, four regiments of foot, and a huge number of wild bulls, which were driven by a great number of Indians, with some negroes and others to help them. "The Pirates being now upon their march, came unto the top of a little hill, from whence they had a large prospect of the city and campaign country underneath. Here they discovered the forces of the people of Panama, extended in battle array, which, when they perceived to be so numerous, they were suddenly surprised with great fear, much doubting the fortune of the day. Yea, few or none there were but wished themselves at home, or at least free from the obligation of that engagement, wherein they perceived their lives must be so narrowly concerned. Having been some time at a stand, in a wavering condition of mind, they at last reflected upon the straits they had brought themselves into, and that now they ought of necessity either to fight resolutely or die, for no quarter could be expected from an enemy against whom they had committed so many cruelties on all occasions. Hereupon they encouraged one another, and resolved either to conquer, or spend the very last drop of blood in their bodies. Afterwards they divided themselves into three battalions, or troops, sending before them one of two hundred buccaneers, which sort of people are infinitely dextrous at shooting with guns.[303] Thus the Pirates left the hill and descended, marching directly towards the Spaniards, who were posted in a spacious field, waiting for their coming. As soon as they drew nigh unto them, the Spaniards began to shout and cry, 'Viva el Rey! God save the King!' and immediately their horse began to move against the Pirates. But the field being full of quags and very soft under foot, they could not ply to and fro and wheel about, as they desired. The two hundred buccaneers who went before, every one putting one knee to the ground, gave them a full volley of shot, wherewith the battle was instantly kindled very hot. The Spaniards defended themselves very courageously, acting all they could possibly perform, to disorder the Pirates. Their foot, in like manner, endeavoured to second the horse, but were constrained by the Pirates to separate from them. Thus finding themselves frustrated of their designs, they attempted to drive the bulls against them at their backs, and by this means to put them into disorder. But the greatest part of that wild cattle ran away, being frightened with the noise of the battle. And some few that broke through the English companies did no other harm than to tear the colours in pieces; whereas the buccaneers, shooting them dead, left not one to trouble them thereabouts. "The battle having now continued for the space of two hours, at the end thereof the greatest part of the Spanish horse was ruined and almost all killed. The rest fled away. Which being perceived by the foot, and that they could not possibly prevail, they discharged the shot they had in their muskets, and throwing them on the ground, betook themselves to flight, every one which way he could run. The Pirates could not possibly follow them, as being too much harassed and wearied with the long journey they had lately made. Many of them not being able to fly whither they desired, hid themselves for that present among the shrubs of the seaside. But very unfortunately; for most of them being found out by the Pirates, were instantly killed, without giving quarter to any.[304] Some religious men were brought prisoners before Captain Morgan; but he being deaf to their cries and lamentations, commanded them all to be immediately pistoled, which was accordingly done. Soon after they brought a captain to his presence, whom he examined very strictly about several things, particularly wherein consisted the forces of those of Panama. Unto which he answered: Their whole strength did consist in four hundred horse, twenty-four companies of foot, each being of one hundred men complete, sixty Indians and some negroes, who were to drive two thousand wild bulls and cause them to run over the English camp, and thus by breaking their files put them into a total disorder and confusion.[305] He discovered more, that in the city they had made trenches and raised batteries in several places, in all which they had placed many guns. And that at the entry of the highway which led to the city they had built a fort, which was mounted with eight great guns of brass and defended by fifty men. "Captain Morgan, having heard this information, gave orders instantly they should march another way. But before setting forth, he made a review of all his men, whereof he found both killed and wounded a considerable number, and much greater than he had believed. Of the Spaniards were found six hundred dead upon the place, besides the wounded and prisoners.[306] The Pirates were nothing discouraged, seeing their number so much diminished, but rather filled with greater pride than before, perceiving what huge advantage they had obtained against their enemies. Thus having rested themselves some while, they prepared to march courageously towards the city, plighting their oaths to one another in general they would fight till never a man was left alive. With this courage they recommenced their march, either to conquer or be conquered, carrying with them all the prisoners. "They found much difficulty in their approach unto the city. For within the town the Spaniards had placed many great guns, at several quarters thereof, some of which were charged with small pieces of iron, and others with musket bullets. With all these they saluted the Pirates, at their drawing nigh unto the place, and gave them full and frequent broadsides, firing at them incessantly. Whence it came to pass that unavoidably they lost, at every step they advanced, great numbers of men. But neither these manifest dangers of their lives, nor the sight of so many of their own as dropped down continually at their sides, could deter them from advancing farther, and gaining ground every moment upon the enemy. Thus, although the Spaniards never ceased to fire and act the best they could for their defence, yet notwithstanding they were forced to deliver the city after the space of three hours' combat.[307] And the Pirates, having now possessed themselves thereof, both killed and destroyed as many as attempted to make the least opposition against them. The inhabitants had caused the best of their goods to be transported to more remote and occult places. Howbeit they found within the city as yet several warehouses, very well stocked with all sorts of merchandise, as well silks and cloths as linen, and other things of considerable value. As soon as the first fury of their entrance into the city was over, Captain Morgan assembled all his men at a certain place which he assigned, and there commanded them under very great penalties that none of them should dare to drink or taste any wine. The reason he gave for this injunction was, because he had received private intelligence that it had been all poisoned by the Spaniards. Howbeit it was the opinion of many he gave these prudent orders to prevent the debauchery of his people, which he foresaw would be very great at the beginning, after so much hunger sustained by the way. Fearing withal lest the Spaniards, seeing them in wine, should rally their forces and fall upon the city, and use them as inhumanly as they had used the inhabitants before." Exquemelin accuses Morgan of setting fire to the city and endeavouring to make the world believe that it was done by the Spaniards. Wm. Frogge, however, who was also present, says distinctly that the Spaniards fired the town, and Sir William Godolphin, in a letter from Madrid to Secretary Arlington on 2nd June 1671, giving news of the exploit which must have come from a Spanish source, says that the President of Panama left orders that the city if taken should be burnt.[308] Moreover the President of Panama himself, in a letter to Spain describing the event which was intercepted by the English, admits that not the buccaneers but the slaves and the owners of the houses set fire to the city.[309] The buccaneers tried in vain to extinguish the flames, and the whole town, which was built mostly of wood, was consumed by twelve o'clock midnight. The only edifices which escaped were the government buildings, a few churches, and about 300 houses in the suburbs. The freebooters remained at Panama twenty-eight days seeking plunder and indulging in every variety of excess. Excursions were made daily into the country for twenty leagues round about to search for booty, and 3000 prisoners were brought in. Exquemelin's story of the sack is probably in the main true. In describing the city he writes: "There belonged to this city (which is also the head of a bishopric) eight monasteries, whereof seven were for men and one for women, two stately churches and one hospital. The churches and monasteries were all richly adorned with altar-pieces and paintings, huge quantity of gold and silver, with other precious things; all which the ecclesiastics had hidden and concealed. Besides which ornaments, here were to be seen two thousand houses of magnificent and prodigious building, being all or the greatest part inhabited by merchants of that country, who are vastly rich. For the rest of the inhabitants of lesser quality and tradesmen, this city contained five thousand houses more. Here were also great numbers of stables, which served for the horses and mules, that carry all the plate, belonging as well unto the King of Spain as to private men, towards the coast of the North Sea. The neighbouring fields belonging to this city are all cultivated with fertile plantations and pleasant gardens, which afford delicious prospects unto the inhabitants the whole year long."[310] The day after the capture, continues Exquemelin, "Captain Morgan dispatched away two troops of Pirates of one hundred and fifty men each, being all very stout soldiers and well armed with orders to seek for the inhabitants of Panama who were escaped from the hands of their enemies. These men, having made several excursions up and down the campaign fields, woods and mountains, adjoining to Panama, returned after two days' time bringing with them above 200 prisoners, between men, women and slaves. The same day returned also the boat ... which Captain Morgan had sent into the South Sea, bringing with her three other boats, which they had taken in a little while. But all these prizes they could willingly have given, yea, although they had employed greater labour into the bargain, for one certain galleon, which miraculously escaped their industry, being very richly laden with all the King's plate and great quantity of riches of gold, pearl, jewels and other most precious goods, of all of the best and richest merchants of Panama. On board of this galleon were also the religious women, belonging to the nunnery of the said city, who had embarked with them all the ornaments of their church, consisting in great quantity of gold, plate, and other things of great value.... "Notwithstanding the Pirates found in the ports of the islands of Tavoga and Tavogilla several boats that were laden with many sorts of very good merchandise; all which they took and brought unto Panama; where being arrived, they made an exact relation of all that had passed while they were abroad to Captain Morgan. The prisoners confirmed what the Pirates had said, adding thereto, that they undoubtedly knew whereabouts the said galleon might be at that present, but that it was very probable they had been relieved before now from other places. These relations stirred up Captain Morgan anew to send forth all the boats that were in the port of Panama, with design to seek and pursue the said galleon till they could find her. The boats aforesaid being in all four, set sail from Panama, and having spent eight days in cruising to and fro, and searching several ports and creeks, they lost all their hopes of finding what they so earnestly sought for. Hereupon they resolved to return unto the isles of Tavoga and Tavogilla. Here they found a reasonable good ship, that was newly come from Payta, being laden with cloth, soap, sugar and biscuit, with twenty thousand pieces of eight in ready money. This vessel they instantly seized, not finding the least resistance from any person within her. Nigh unto the said ship was also a boat whereof in like manner they possessed themselves. Upon the boat they laded great part of the merchandises they had found in the ship, together with some slaves they had taken in the said islands. With this purchase they returned to Panama, something better satisfied of their voyage, yet withal much discontented they could not meet with the galleon.... "Captain Morgan used to send forth daily parties of two hundred men, to make inroads into all the fields and country thereabouts, and when one party came back, another consisting of two hundred more was ready to go forth. By this means they gathered in a short time huge quantity of riches, and no lesser number of prisoners. These being brought into the city, were presently put unto the most exquisite tortures imaginable, to make them confess both other people's goods and their own. Here it happened, that one poor and miserable wretch was found in the house of a gentleman of great quality, who had put on, amidst that confusion of things, a pair of taffety breeches belonging to his master with a little silver key hanging at the strings thereof. This being perceived by the Pirates they immediately asked him where was the cabinet of the said key? His answer was: he knew not what was become of it, but only that finding those breeches in his master's house, he had made bold to wear them. Not being able to extort any other confession out of him, they first put him upon the rack, wherewith they inhumanly disjointed his arms. After this they twisted a cord about his forehead, which they wrung so hard, that his eyes appeared as big as eggs, and were ready to fall out of his skull. But neither with these torments could they obtain any positive answer to their demands. Whereupon they soon after hung him up, giving him infinite blows and stripes, while he was under that intolerable pain and posture of body. Afterwards they cut off his nose and ears, and singed his face with burning straw, till he could speak nor lament his misery no longer. Then losing all hopes of hearing any confession from his mouth, they commanded a negro to run him through with a lance, which put an end to his life and a period to their cruel and inhuman tortures. After this execrable manner did many others of those miserable prisoners finish their days, the common sport and recreation of these Pirates being these and other tragedies not inferior to these. "They spared in these their cruelties no sex nor condition whatsoever. For as to religious persons and priests, they granted them less quarter than unto others, unless they could produce a considerable sum of money, capable of being a sufficient ransom. Women themselves were no better used ... and Captain Morgan, their leader and commander, gave them no good example in this point....[311] "Captain Morgan having now been at Panama the full space of three weeks, commanded all things to be put in order for his departure. Unto this effect he gave orders to every company of his men, to seek out for so many beasts of carriage as might suffice to convey the whole spoil of the city unto the river where his canoes lay. About this time a great rumour was spread in the city, of a considerable number of Pirates who intended to leave Captain Morgan; and that, by taking a ship which was in the port, they determined to go and rob upon the South Sea till they had got as much as they thought fit, and then return homewards by the way of the East Indies into Europe. For which purpose they had already gathered great quantity of provisions which they had hidden in private places, with sufficient store of powder, bullets and all other sorts of ammunition; likewise some great guns belonging to the town, muskets and other things, wherewith they designed not only to equip the said vessel but also to fortify themselves and raise batteries in some island or other, which might serve them for a place of refuge. "This design had certainly taken effect as they intended, had not Captain Morgan had timely advice thereof given him by one of their comrades. Hereupon he instantly commanded the mainmast of the said ship should be cut down and burnt, together with all the other boats that were in the port. Hereby the intentions of all or most of his companions were totally frustrated. After this Captain Morgan sent forth many of the Spaniards into the adjoining fields and country, to seek for money wherewith to ransom not only themselves but also all the rest of the prisoners, as likewise the ecclesiastics, both secular and regular. Moreover, he commanded all the artillery of the town to be spoiled, that is to say, nailed and stopped up. At the same time he sent out a strong company of men to seek for the Governor of Panama, of whom intelligence was brought that he had laid several ambuscades in the way, by which he ought to pass at his return. But those who were sent upon this design returned soon after, saying they had not found any sign or appearance of any such ambuscades. For a confirmation whereof they brought with them some prisoners they had taken, who declared how that the said Governor had had an intention of making some opposition by the way, but that the men whom he had designed to effect it were unwilling to undertake any such enterprise; so that for want of means he could not put his design into execution.[312] "On the 24th of February of the year 1671,[313] Captain Morgan departed from the city of Panama, or rather from the place where the said city of Panama did stand. Of the spoils whereof he carried with him one hundred and seventy-five beasts of carriage, laden with silver, gold and other precious things, besides 600 prisoners, more or less, between men, women, children and slaves. That day they came unto a river that passeth through a delicious campaign field, at the distance of a league from Panama. Here Captain Morgan put all his forces into good order of martial array in such manner that the prisoners were in the middle of the camp, surrounded on all sides with Pirates. At which present conjuncture nothing else was to be heard but lamentations, cries, shrieks and doleful sighs, of so many women and children, who were persuaded Captain Morgan designed to transport them all, and carry them into his own country for slaves. Besides that, among all those miserable prisoners, there was extreme hunger and thirst endured at that time. Which hardship and misery Captain Morgan designedly caused them to sustain, with intent to excite them more earnestly to seek for money wherewith to ransom themselves, according to the tax he had set upon every one. Many of the women begged of Captain Morgan upon their knees, with infinite sighs and tears, he would permit them to return unto Panama, there to live in company of their dear husbands and children, in little huts of straw which they would erect, seeing they had no houses until the rebuilding of the city. But his answer was: he came not thither to hear lamentations and cries, but rather to seek money. Therefore, they ought to seek out for that in the first place, wherever it were to be had, and bring it to him, otherwise he would assuredly transport them all to such places whither they cared not to go.... "As soon as Captain Morgan arrived, upon his march, at the town called Cruz, seated on the banks of the river Chagre, as was mentioned before, he commanded an order to be published among the prisoners, that within the space of three days every one of them should bring in their ransom, under the penalty aforementioned, of being transported unto Jamaica. In the meanwhile he gave orders for so much rice and maize to be collected thereabouts as was necessary for the victualling all his ships. At this place some of the prisoners were ransomed, but many others could not bring in their moneys in so short a time. Hereupon he continued his voyage ... carrying with him all the spoil that ever he could transport. From this village he likewise led away some new prisoners, who were inhabitants of the said place. So that these prisoners were added to those of Panama who had not as yet paid their ransoms, and all transported.... About the middle of the way unto the Castle of Chagre, Captain Morgan commanded them to be placed in due order, according to their custom, and caused every one to be sworn, that they had reserved nor concealed nothing privately to themselves, even not so much as the value of sixpence. This being done, Captain Morgan having had some experience that those lewd fellows would not much stickle to swear falsely in points of interest, he commanded them every one to be searched very strictly, both in their clothes and satchels and everywhere it might be presumed they had reserved anything. Yea, to the intent this order might not be ill taken by his companions, he permitted himself to be searched, even to the very soles of his shoes. To this effect by common consent, there was assigned one out of every company to be the searchers of all the rest. The French Pirates that went on this expedition with Captain Morgan were not well satisfied with this new custom of searching. Yet their number being less than that of the English, they were forced to submit unto it, as well as the others had done before them. The search being over, they re-embarked in their canoes and boats, which attended them on the river, and arrived at the Castle of Chagre.[314] ... Here they found all things in good order, excepting the wounded men, whom they had left there at the time of their departure. For of these the greatest number were dead, through the wounds they had received. "From Chagre, Captain Morgan sent presently after his arrival, a great boat unto Porto Bello, wherein were all the prisoners he had taken at the Isle of St. Catherine, demanding by them a considerable ransom for the Castle of Chagre, where he then was, threatening otherwise to ruin and demolish it even to the ground. To this message those of Porto Bello made answer: they would not give one farthing towards the ransom of the said castle, and that the English might do with it as they pleased. This answer being come, the dividend was made of all the spoil they had purchased in that voyage. Thus every company and every particular person therein included received their portion of what was gotten; or rather what part thereof Captain Morgan was pleased to give them. For so it was, that the rest of his companions, even of his own nation, complained of his proceedings in this particular, and feared not to tell him openly to his face, that he had reserved the best jewels to himself. For they judged it impossible that no greater share should belong unto them than two hundred pieces of eight per capita, of so many valuable purchases and robberies as they had obtained. Which small sum they thought too little reward for so much labour and such huge and manifest dangers as they had so often exposed their lives unto. But Captain Morgan was deaf to all these and many other complaints of this kind, having designed in his mind to cheat them of as much as he could."[315] On 6th March 1671, Morgan, after demolishing the fort and other edifices at Chagre and spiking all the guns, got secretly on board his own ship, if we are to believe Exquemelin, and followed by only three or four vessels of the fleet, returned to Port Royal. The rest of the fleet scattered, most of the ships having "much ado to find sufficient victuals and provisions for their voyage to Jamaica." At the end of August not more than ten vessels of the original thirty-six had made their way back to the English colony. Morgan, with very inadequate means, accomplished a feat which had been the dream of Drake and other English sailors for a century or more, and which Admiral Vernon in 1741 with a much greater armament feared even to attempt. For display of remarkable leadership and reckless bravery the expedition against Panama has never been surpassed. Its brilliance was only clouded by the cruelty and rapacity of the victors--a force levied without pay and little discipline, and unrestrained, if not encouraged, in brutality by Morgan himself. Exquemelin's accusation against Morgan, of avarice and dishonesty in the division of the spoil amongst his followers, is, unfortunately for the admiral's reputation, too well substantiated. Richard Browne, the surgeon-general of the fleet, estimated the plunder at over £70,000 "besides other rich goods," of which the soldiers were miserably cheated, each man receiving but £10 as his share. At Chagre, he writes, the leaders gave what they pleased "for which ... we must be content or else be clapped in irons." The wronged seamen were loud in their complaints against Morgan, Collier and the other captains for starving, cheating and deserting them; but so long as Modyford was governor they could obtain no redress. The commanders "dared but seldom appear," writes Browne, "the widows, orphans and injured inhabitants who had so freely advanced upon the hopes of a glorious design, being now ruined through fitting out the privateers."[316] The Spaniards reckoned their whole loss at 6,000,000 crowns.[317] On 31st May 1671, the Council of Jamaica extended a vote of thanks to Morgan for the execution of his late commission, and formally expressed their approval of the manner in which he had conducted himself.[318] There can be no question but that the governor had full knowledge of Morgan's intentions before the fleet sailed from Cape Tiburon. After the decision of the council of officers on 2nd December to attack Panama, a boat was dispatched to Jamaica to inform Modyford, and in a letter written to Morgan ten days after the arrival of the vessel the governor gave no countermand to the decision.[319] Doubtless the defence made, that the governor and council were trying to forestall an impending invasion of Jamaica by the Spaniards, was sincere. But it is also very probable that they were in part deceived into this belief by Morgan and his followers, who made it their first object to get prisoners, and obtain from them by force a confession that at Cartagena, Porto Bello or some other Spanish maritime port the Spaniards were mustering men and fitting a fleet to invade the island. By a strange irony of fate, on 8th-18th July 1670 a treaty was concluded at Madrid by Sir William Godolphin for "composing differences, restraining depredations and establishing peace" in America. No trading privileges in the West Indies were granted by either crown, but the King of Spain acknowledged the sovereignty of the King of England over all islands, colonies, etc., in America then in possession of the English, and the ships of either nation, in case of distress, were to have entertainment and aid in the ports of the other. The treaty was to be published in the West Indies simultaneously by English and Spanish governors within eight months after its ratification.[320] In May of the following year, a messenger from San Domingo arrived in Port Royal with a copy of the articles of peace, to propose that a day be fixed for their publication, and to offer an exchange of prisoners,[321] Modyford had as yet received no official notice from England of the treaty, and might with justice complain to the authorities at home of their neglect.[322] Shortly after, however, a new governor came to relieve him of further responsibility. Charles II. had probably placated the Spanish ambassador in 1670 by promising the removal of Modyford and the dispatch of another governor well-disposed to the Spaniards.[323] At any rate, a commission was issued in September 1670, appointing Colonel Thomas Lynch Lieutenant-Governor of Jamaica, to command there in the "want, absence or disability" of the governor;[324] and on 4th January following, in spite of a petition of the officers, freeholders and inhabitants of Jamaica in favour of Modyford,[325] the commission of the governor was revoked.[326] Lynch arrived in Jamaica on 25th June with instructions, as soon as he had possession of the government and forts, to arrest Sir Thomas Modyford and send him home under guard to answer charges laid against him.[327] Fearing to exasperate the friends of the old governor, Lynch hesitated to carry out his instructions until 12th August, when he invited Modyford on board the frigate "Assistance," with several members of the council, and produced the royal orders for his arrest. Lynch assured him, however, that his life and fortune were not in danger, the proceeding being merely a sop to the indignant Spaniards.[328] Modyford arrived in England in November, and on the 17th of the month was committed to the Tower.[329] The indignation of the Spaniards, when the news of the sack of Panama reached Spain, rose to a white heat. "It is impossible for me to paint to your Lordship," wrote Godolphin to Lord Arlington, "the face of Madrid upon the news of this action ... nor to what degree of indignation the queen and ministers of State, the particular councils and all sorts of people here, have taken it to heart."[330] It seems that the ambassador or the Spanish consul in London had written to Madrid that this last expedition was made by private intimation, if not orders, from London, and that Godolphin had been commanded to provide in the treaty for a long term before publication, so as to give time for the execution of the design. Against these falsehoods the English ambassador found it difficult to make headway, although he assured the queen of the immediate punishment of the perpetrators, and the arrest and recall of the Governor of Jamaica. Only by the greatest tact and prudence was he able to stave off, until an official disavowal of the expedition came from England, an immediate embargo on all the goods of English merchants in Spain. The Spanish government decided to send a fleet of 10,000 men with all speed to the Indies; and the Dukes of Albuquerque and Medina Coeli vied with each other in offering to raise the men at their own charge from among their own vassals. After Godolphin had presented his official assurance to the queen, however, nothing more was heard of this armament. "God grant," wrote the English ambassador, "that Sir Thomas Modyford's way of defending Jamaica (as he used to call it) by sending out the forces thereof to pillage, prove an infallible one; for my own part, I do not think it hath been our interest to awaken the Spaniards so much as this last action hath done."[331] Footnotes: [Footnote 206: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 635.] [Footnote 207: Ibid., Nos. 656 and 664. Dated 15th and 18th February respectively.] [Footnote 208: Ibid., No. 739.] [Footnote 209: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 739 and 744.] [Footnote 210: Ibid., Nos. 762 and 767.] [Footnote 211: Ibid., No. 746; Beeston's Journal.] [Footnote 212: S.P. Spain, vol. 46, f. 192; C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 753.] [Footnote 212: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 744; _cf._ also No. 811, and Lyttleton's Report, No. 812.] [Footnote 214: Ibid., No. 789.] [Footnote 215: Ibid., Nos. 859, 964; Beeston's Journal. For disputes over the cargo of the Spanish prize captured by Williams, _cf._ C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 1140, 1150, 1177, 1264, 1266.] [Footnote 216: Ibid., No. 767.] [Footnote 217: Add. MSS., 11,410, pp. 16-25.] [Footnote 218: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 786; _cf._ also Add. MSS., 11,410, f. 303:--"Mr. Worseley's discourse of the Privateers of Jamaica."] [Footnote 219: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. vii. pp. 57-65.] [Footnote 220: For the biography of Jean-David Nau, surnamed l'Olonnais, _cf._ Nouvelle Biographie Générale, t. xxxviii. p. 654.] [Footnote 221: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 744, 812.] [Footnote 222: Ibid., Nos. 744, 765, 786, 812.] [Footnote 223: C.S.P. Colon., 1574-1660, pp. 363, 421, 433.] [Footnote 224: Ibid., pp. 419, 427, 428.] [Footnote 225: Ibid., p. 447; Egerton MSS., 2395, f. 167.] [Footnote 226: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 101; _cf._ also Nos. 24, 32, 122. From orders contained in the MSS. of the Marquis of Ormonde issued on petitions of convicted prisoners, we find that reprieves were often granted on condition of their making arrangements for their own transportation for life to the West Indies, without expense to the government. The condemned were permitted to leave the gaols in which they were confined and embark immediately, on showing that they had agreed with a sea-captain to act as his servant, both during the voyage and after their arrival. The captains were obliged to give bond for the safe transportation of the criminals, and the latter were also to find security that they would not return to the British Isles without license, on pain of receiving the punishment from which they had been originally reprieved. (Hist. MSS. Comm. Rept. X., pt. 5, pp. 34, 42, 85, 94). _Cf._ also C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1268.] [Footnote 227: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 331, 769-772, 790, 791, 798, 847, 1720.] [Footnote 228: Ibid., No. 866.] [Footnote 229: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 839, 843.] [Footnote 230: Ibid., No. 786.] [Footnote 231: Ibid., No. 943.] [Footnote 232: Ibid., Nos. 910, 919, 926.] [Footnote 233: Ibid., Nos. 942, 976.] [Footnote 234: Ibid., No. 944.] [Footnote 235: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 979. There were really nine ships and 650 men. Cf. _ibid._, No. 1088.] [Footnote 236: Ibid., Nos. 980, 983, 992.] [Footnote 237: Ibid., No. 1088.] [Footnote 238: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 1073, 1088.] [Footnote 239: Ibid., No. 1042, I. Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas Morgan (not to be confused with Colonel Edward Morgan), who was left in command of St. Eustatius and Saba, went in April 1666 with a company of buccaneers to the assistance of Governor Watts of St. Kitts against the French. In the rather shameful defence of the English part of the island Morgan's buccaneers were the only English who displayed any courage or discipline, and most of them were killed or wounded, Colonel Morgan himself being shot in both legs. (Ibid., Nos. 1204, 1205, 1212, 1220, 1257.) St. Eustatius was reconquered by a French force from St. Kitts in the early part of 1667. (Ibid., No. 1401.)] [Footnote 240: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1082.] [Footnote 241: Ibid., No. 1125. Stedman was later in the year, after the outbreak of war with France, captured by a French frigate off Guadeloupe. With a small vessel and only 100 men he found himself becalmed and unable to escape, so he boldly boarded the Frenchman in buccaneer fashion and fought for two hours, but was finally overcome. (Ibid., No. 1212.)] [Footnote 242: Ibid., No. 1085; Beeston's Journal. Mansfield was the buccaneer whom Exquemelin disguises under the name of "Mansvelt."] [Footnote 243: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 1130, 1132-37.] [Footnote 244: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 1129, 1263.] [Footnote 245: Ibid., Nos. 1144, 1264.] [Footnote 246: Ibid., Nos. 1138, 1144.] [Footnote 247: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1264, slightly condensed from the original.] [Footnote 248: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 1142, 1147. The Governor of Havana wrote concerning this same exploit, that on Christmas Eve of 1665 the English entered and sacked the town of Cayo in the jurisdiction of Havana, and meeting with a vessel having on board twenty-two Spaniards who were inhabitants of the town, put them all to the sword, cutting them to pieces with hangers. Afterwards they sailed to the town of Bayamo with thirteen vessels and 700 men, but altering their plans, went to Sancti Spiritus, landed 300, plundered the town, cruelly treated both men and women, burnt the best houses, and wrecked and desecrated the church in which they had made their quarters. (S.P. Spain, vol. 49, f. 50.) Col. Beeston says that Mansfield conducted the raid; but according to the Spanish account to which Duro had access, the leader was Pierre Legrand. (Duro, _op. cit._, v. p. 164).] [Footnote 249: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1147; Beeston's Journal. Beeston reports that after a six weeks' search for Mansfield and his men he failed to find them and returned to Jamaica.] [Footnote 250: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1213.] [Footnote 251: Exquemelin, however, says that he had 500 men. If he attacked Providence Island with only 200 he must have received reinforcements later.] [Footnote 252: Duro, _op. cit._, v. p. 167; S.P. Spain, vol. 49, f. 50. The accounts that have come down to us of this expedition are obscure and contradictory. Modyford writes of the exploit merely that "they landed 600 men at Cape Blanco, in the kingdom of Veragua, and marched 90 miles into that country to surprise its chief city, Cartago; but understanding that the inhabitants had carried away their wealth, returned to their ships without being challenged." (C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1213.) According to Exquemelin the original goal of the buccaneers was the town of Nata, north of Panama. The Spanish accounts make the numbers of the invaders much greater, from 800 to 1200.] [Footnote 253: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1263.] [Footnote 254: Ibid., Nos. 1309, 1349. The capture of Providence Island was Mansfield's last exploit. According to a deposition found among the Colonial papers, he and his ship were later captured by the Spaniards and carried to Havana where the old buccaneer was put in irons and soon after executed. (Ibid., No. 1827.) Exquemelin says that Mansfield, having been refused sufficient aid by Modyford for the defence of Providence, went to seek assistance at Tortuga, when "death suddenly surprised him and put a period to his wicked life."] [Footnote 255: Exquemelin refers to a voyage of Henry Morgan to Campeache at about this time, and says that he afterwards accompanied Mansfield as his "vice-admiral." There were at least three Morgans then in the West Indies, but Colonel Edward and Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas were at this time doubtless busy preparing the armament against Curaçao.] [Footnote 256: "Villa de Mosa is a small Town standing on the Starboard side of the River ... inhabited chiefly by Indians, with some Spaniards.... Thus far Ships come to bring Goods, especially European Commodities.... They arrive here in November or December, and stay till June or July, selling their Commodities, and then load chiefly with Cacao and some Sylvester. All the Merchants and petty Traders of the country Towns come thither about Christmas to Traffick, which makes this Town the chiefest in all these Parts, Campeache excepted."--Dampier, _ed._ 1906, ii. p. 206. The town was twelve leagues from the river's mouth.] [Footnote 257: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1142; Beeston's Journal, 20th August 1665. The viceroy of New Spain, in a letter of 28th March 1665, reports the coming, in February, of 150 English in three ships to Tabasco, but gives the name of the plundered town as Santa Marta de la Vitoria. According to his story, the buccaneers seized royal treasure amounting to 50,000 pieces of eight, besides ammunition and slaves. (S.P. Spain, vol. 49, f. 122.)] [Footnote 258: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 1826, 1827, 1851; Exquemelin, _ed._ 1684, Part II. pp. 65-74.] [Footnote 259: S.P. Spain, vols. 46-49. Correspondence of Sir Richard Fanshaw.] [Footnote 260: Ibid., vol. 46, f. 192.] [Footnote 261: Ibid., vol. 49, f. 212.] [Footnote 262: Ibid., vol. 52, f. 138; Record Office, Treaties, etc., 466.] [Footnote 263: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1276.] [Footnote 264: Ibid., No. 1264.] [Footnote 265: Ibid., No. 1537.] [Footnote 266: Ibid., No. 1264. There was probably some disagreement in the Council in England over the policy to be pursued toward the buccaneers. On 21st August 1666 Modyford wrote to Albemarle: "Sir James Modyford will present his Grace with a copy of some orders made at Oxford, in behalf of some Spaniards, with Lord Arlington's letter thereon; in which are such strong inculcations of continuing friendship with the Spaniards here, that he doubts he shall be highly discanted on by some persons for granting commissions against them; must beg his Grace to bring him off, or at least that the necessity of this proceeding may be taken into serious debate and then doubts not but true English judges will confirm what he has done." On the other hand he writes to Arlington on 30th July 1667: "Had my abilities suited so well with my wishes as the latter did with your Lordship's, the privateers' attempts had been only practised on the Dutch and French, and the Spaniards free of them, but I had no money to pay them nor frigates to force them; the former they could not get from our declared enemies, nothing could they expect but blows from them, and (as they have often repeated to me) will that pay for new sails and rigging?... (but) will, suitable to your Lordship's directions, as far as I am able, restrain them from further acts of violence towards the Spaniards, unless provoked by new insolences." Yet in the following December the governor tells Albemarle that he has not altered his posture, nor does he intend until further orders. It seems clear that Arlington and Albemarle represented two opposite sets of opinion in the Council.] [Footnote 267: On 21st December 1671, Morgan in a deposition before the Council of Jamaica gave his age as thirty-six years. (C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 705.)] [Footnote 268: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1838; Exquemelin, _ed._ 1684, Part II., pp. 79-88. According to Exquemelin the first design of the freebooters had been to cross the island of Cuba in its narrowest part and fall upon Havana. But on receiving advice that the governor had taken measures to defend and provision the city, they changed their minds and marched to Puerto Principe.] [Footnote 269: The city of Porto Bello with its large commodious harbour afforded a good anchorage and shelter for the annual treasure galleons. The narrow entrance was secured by the two forts mentioned in the narrative, the St. Jago on the left entering the harbour, and the San Felipe on the right; and within the port was a third called the San Miguel. The town lay at the bottom of the harbour bending round the shore like a half-moon. It was built on low swampy ground and had no walls or defences on the land side. (_Cf._ the descriptions of Wafer and Gage.) The garrison at this time probably did not exceed 300 men.] [Footnote 270: This statement is confirmed by one of the captains serving under Morgan, who in his account of the expedition says: "After remaining some days ... sickness broke out among the troops, of which we lost half by sickness and fighting." (C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 1.) And in "The Present State of Jamaica, 1683," we read that Morgan brought to the island the plague "that killed my Lady Modyford and others."] [Footnote 271: Morgan reported, however, that the ransom was offered and paid by the President of Panama. (C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1838.)] [Footnote 272: Exquemelin, _ed._ 1684, Part II. pp. 89-103. The cruelties of the buccaneers at Porto Bello are confirmed by a letter from John Style to the Secretary of State, complaining of the disorder and injustice reigning in Jamaica. He writes: "It is a common thing among the privateers, besides burning with matches and such like slight torments, to cut a man in pieces, first some flesh, then a hand, an arm, a leg, sometimes tying a cord about his head and with a stick twisting it till the eyes shot out, which is called 'woolding.' Before taking Puerto Bello, thus some were used, because they refused to discover a way into the town which was not, and many in the town because they would not discover wealth they knew not of. A woman there was by some set bare upon a baking stone and roasted because she did not confess of money which she had only in their conceit; this he heard some declare with boasting, and one that was sick confess with sorrow." (C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 138.) Modyford writes concerning the booty got at Porto Bello, that the business cleared each privateer £60, and "to himself they gave only £20 for their commission, which never exceeded £300." (C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 103.) But it is very probable that the buccaneers did not return a full account of the booty to the governor, for it was a common complaint that they plundered their prizes and hid the spoil in holes and creeks along the coast so as to cheat the government of its tenths and fifteenths levied on all condemned prize-goods.] [Footnote 273: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, No. 1838.] [Footnote 274: C.S.P. Colon., 1661-68, Nos. 1863, 1867, 1892.] [Footnote 275: Ibid., No. 1867; Beeston's Journal, 15th October 1668.] [Footnote 276: Ibid., C.S.P. Colon., 1674-76, Addenda, No. 1207.] [Footnote 277: Exquemelin gives a French version of the episode, according to which the commander of the "Cour Volant" had given bills of exchange upon Jamaica and Tortuga for the provisions he had taken out of the English ship; but Morgan, because he could not prevail on the French captain to join his proposed expedition, used this merely as a pretext to seize the ship for piracy. The "Cour Volant," turned into a privateer and called the "Satisfaction," was used by Morgan as his flagship in the expedition against Panama.] [Footnote 278: According to Exquemelin the booty amounted to 250,000 crowns in money and jewels, besides merchandise and slaves. Modyford, however, wrote that the buccaneers received only £30 per man.] [Footnote 279: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 1; S.P. Spain, vol. 54, f. 118; vol. 55, f. 177.] [Footnote 280: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 227, 578.] [Footnote 281: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 129.] [Footnote 282: Ibid., No. 149. In 1666 the Consejo de Almirantazgo of Flanders had offered the government to send its frigates to the Indies to pursue and punish the buccaneers, and protect the coasts of Spanish America; and in 1669 similar proposals were made by the "armadores" or owners of corsairing vessels in the seaport towns of Biscay. Both offers were refused, however, because the government feared that such privileges would lead to commercial abuses infringing on the monopoly of the Seville merchants. Duro, _op. cit._, V. p. 169.] [Footnote 283: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 113, 161, 162, 172, 182, 264, 280.] [Footnote 284: Ibid., Nos. 207, 211, 227, 240.] [Footnote 285: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 207, 209-212, 226.] [Footnote 286: Ibid., No. 194.] [Footnote 287: Ibid., No. 237.] [Footnote 288: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74; Nos. 310, 359, 504; Exquemelin, _ed._ 1684, Pt. III. pp. 3-7; Add. MSS., 13,964, f. 24.] [Footnote 289: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 293, 310.] [Footnote 290: S.P. Spain, vol. 57, ff. 48, 53.] [Footnote 291: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 293, 310; Add. MSS., 13,964, f. 26. The Spaniards estimated their loss at 100,000 pieces of eight. (Add. MSS. 11,268, f. 51.)] [Footnote 292: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 310, 359, 504. In a report sent by Governor Modyford to England (_ibid._, No. 704, I.) we find a list of the vessels under command of Henry Morgan, with the name, captain, tonnage, guns and crew of each ship. There were twenty-eight English vessels of from 10 to 140 tons and from zero to 20 guns, carrying from 16 to 140 men; the French vessels were eight in number, of from 25 to 100 tons, with from 2 to 14 guns, and carrying from 30 to 110 men.] [Footnote 293: Ibid., No. 504. According to Exquemelin, before the fleet sailed all the officers signed articles regulating the disposal of the booty. It was stipulated that Admiral Morgan should have the hundredth part of all the plunder, "that every captain should draw the shares of eight men, for the expenses of his ship, besides his own; that the surgeon besides his ordinary pay should have two hundred pieces of eight, for his chest of medicaments; and every carpenter above his ordinary salary, should draw one hundred pieces of eight. As to recompenses and rewards they were regulated in this voyage much higher than was expressed in the first part of this book. For the loss of both legs they assigned one thousand five hundred pieces of eight or fifteen slaves, the choice being left to the election of the party; for the loss of both hands, one thousand eight hundred pieces of eight or eighteen slaves; for one leg, whether the right or left, six hundred pieces of eight or six slaves; for a hand as much as for a leg, and for the loss of an eye, one hundred pieces of eight or one slave. Lastly, unto him that in any battle should signalize himself, either by entering the first any castle, or taking down the Spanish colours and setting up the English, they constituted fifty pieces of eight for a reward. In the head of these articles it was stipulated that all these extraordinary salaries, recompenses and rewards should be paid out of the first spoil or purchase they should take, according as every one should then occur to be either rewarded or paid."] [Footnote 294: Sir James Modyford, who, after the capture of Providence by Mansfield in 1666, had been commissioned by the king as lieutenant-governor of the island, now bestirred himself, and in May 1671 appointed Colonel Blodre Morgan (who commanded the rear-guard at the battle of Panama) to go as deputy-governor and take possession. Modyford himself intended to follow with some settlers shortly after, but the attempt at colonization seems to have failed. (C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 494, 534, 613.)] [Footnote 295: Add. MSS., 11,268, f. 51 _ff._; _ibid._, 13,964, f. 24-25.] [Footnote 296: Ibid., 11,268, f. 51 _ff._; S.P. Spain, vol. 58, f. 156.] [Footnote 297: Exquemelin, _ed._ 1684, Part III. pp. 23-27.] [Footnote 298: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 504. Exquemelin says that there were 1200 men, five boats with artillery and thirty-two canoes.] [Footnote 299: Morgan's report makes it 200 men. (C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 504.)] [Footnote 300: Morgan says: "The enemy had basely quitted the first entrenchment and set all on fire, as they did all the rest, without striking a stroke." The President of Panama also writes that the garrisons up the river, on receiving news of the fall of Chagre, were in a panic, the commanders forsaking their posts and retiring in all haste to Venta Cruz. (C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 547.)] [Footnote 301: Exquemelin makes the buccaneers arrive at Venta Cruz on the seventh day. According to Morgan they reached the village on the sixth day, and according to Frogge on the fifth. Morgan reports that two miles from Venta Cruz there was "a very narrow and dangerous passage where the enemy thought to put a stop to our further proceeding but were presently routed by the Forlorn commanded by Capt. Thomas Rogers."] [Footnote 302: Frogge says that after leaving Venta Cruz they came upon an ambuscade of 1000 Indians, but put them to flight with the loss of only one killed and two wounded, the Indians losing their chief and about thirty men. (S.P. Spain, vol. 58, f. 118.) Morgan reports three killed and six or seven wounded.] [Footnote 303: "Next morning drew up his men in the form of a tertia, the vanguard led by Lieutenant-Colonel Lawrence Prince and Major John Morris, in number 300, the main body 600, the right wing led by himself, the left by Colonel Edw. Collyer, the rearguard of 300 commanded by Colonel Bledry Morgan."--Morgan's Report. (C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 504.)] [Footnote 304: The close agreement between the accounts of the battle given by Morgan and Exquemelin is remarkable, and leads us to give much greater credence to those details in Exquemelin's narrative of the expedition which were omitted from the official report. Morgan says of the battle that as the Spaniards had the advantage of position and refused to move, the buccaneers made a flanking movement to the left and secured a hill protected on one side by a bog. Thereupon "One Francesco de Harro charged with the horse upon the vanguard so furiously that he could not be stopped till he lost his life; upon which the horse wheeled off, and the foot advanced, but met with such a warm welcome and were pursued so close that the enemies' retreat came to plain running, though they did work such a stratagem as has been seldom heard of, viz.:--attempting to drive two droves of 1500 cattle into their rear." (C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 504.)] [Footnote 305: Morgan gives the number of Spaniards at 2100 foot and 600 horse, and Frogge reports substantially the same figures. The President of Panama, however, in his letter to the Queen, writes that he had but 1200 men, mostly negroes, mulattos and Indians, besides 200 slaves of the Assiento. His followers, he continues, were armed only with arquebuses and fowling-pieces, and his artillery consisted of three wooden guns bound with hide.] [Footnote 306: According to Frogge the Spaniards lost 500 men in the battle, the buccaneers but one Frenchman. Morgan says that the whole day's work only cost him five men killed and ten wounded, and that the loss of the enemy was about 400.] [Footnote 307: "In the city they had 200 fresh men, two forts, all the streets barricaded and great guns in every street, which in all amounted to thirty-two brass guns, but instead of fighting commanded it to be fired, and blew up the chief fort, which was done in such haste that forty of their own soldiers were blown up. In the market-place some resistance was made, but at three o'clock they had quiet possession of the city...."--Morgan's Report.] [Footnote 308: S.P. Spain, vol. 58, f. 156.] [Footnote 309: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 547.] [Footnote 310: After the destruction of Panama in 1671, the old city was deserted by the Spaniards, and the present town raised on a site several miles to the westward, where there was a better anchorage and landing facilities.] [Footnote 311: The incident of Morgan and the Spanish lady I have omitted because it is so contrary to the testimony of Richard Browne (who if anything was prejudiced against Morgan) that "as to their women, I know or ever heard of anything offered beyond their wills; something I know was cruelly executed by Captain Collier in killing a friar in the field after quarter given; but for the Admiral he was noble enough to the vanquished enemy." (C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 608.)] [Footnote 312: The President had retired north to Nata de los Santos, and thence sent couriers with an account of what had happened over Darien to Cartagena, whence the news was forwarded by express boat to Spain. (S.P. Spain, vol. 58, f. 156). That the president made efforts to raise men to oppose the retreat of the buccaneers, but received no support from the inhabitants, is proved by Spanish documents in Add. MSS., 11,268, ff. 33, 37, etc.] [Footnote 313: The President of Panama in his account contained in Add. MSS. 11,268, gives the date as 25th February. Morgan, however, says that they began the march for Venta Cruz on 14th February; but this discrepancy may be due to a confusion of the old and new style of dating.] [Footnote 314: The buccaneers arrived at Chagre on 26th February.--Morgan's account.] [Footnote 315: Exquemelin, _ed._ 1684, Part III. pp. 31-76.] [Footnote 316: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 608. Wm. Frogge, too, says that the share of each man was only £10.] [Footnote 317: Add. MSS., 11,268.] [Footnote 318: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 542, I.] [Footnote 319: Ibid., No. 542, II.] [Footnote 320: S.P. Spain, vol. 57, f. 76; vol. 58, f. 27.] [Footnote 321: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 513, 531, 532, 544; Beeston's journal.] [Footnote 322: S.P. Spain, vol. 58, f. 30.] [Footnote 323: _Cf._ Memorial of the Conde de Molina complaining that a new governor had not been sent to Jamaica, as promised, nor the old governor recalled, 26th Feb. 1671 (S.P. Spain, vol. 58, f. 62).] [Footnote 324: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 272.] [Footnote 325: Ibid., No. 331.] [Footnote 326: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 377, 424.] [Footnote 327: Ibid., Nos. 405, 441, 452, 453, 552, 587.] [Footnote 328: Ibid., Nos. 600, 604, 608, 655.] [Footnote 329: Ibid., Nos. 653, 654.] [Footnote 330: S.P. Spain, vol. 58, f. 156.] [Footnote 331: S.P. Spain, vol. 58, f. 156.] CHAPTER VI THE GOVERNMENT SUPPRESSES THE BUCCANEERS The new Lieutenant-Governor of Jamaica, Sir Thomas Lynch, brought with him instructions to publish and carefully observe the articles of 1670 with Spain, and at the same time to revoke all commissions issued by his predecessor "to the prejudice of the King of Spain or any of his subjects." When he proclaimed the peace he was likewise to publish a general pardon to privateers who came in and submitted within a reasonable time, of all offences committed since June 1660, assuring to them the possession of their prize-goods (except the tenths and the fifteenths which were always reserved to the crown as a condition of granting commissions), and offering them inducements to take up planting, trade, or service in the royal navy. But he was not to insist positively on the payment of the tenths and fifteenths if it discouraged their submission; and if this course failed to bring in the rovers, he was to use every means in his power "by force or persuasion" to make them submit.[332] Lynch immediately set about to secure the good-will of his Spanish neighbours and to win back the privateers to more peaceful pursuits. Major Beeston was sent to Cartagena with the articles of peace, where he was given every satisfaction and secured the release of thirty-two English prisoners.[333] On the 15th August the proclamation of pardon to privateers was issued at Port Royal;[334] and those who had railed against their commanders for cheating them at Panama, were given an opportunity of resorting to the law-courts.[335] Similar proclamations were sent by the governor "to all their haunts," intimating that he had written to Bermuda, the Caribbees, New England, New York and Virginia for their apprehension, had sent notices to all Spanish ports declaring them pirates, and intended to send to Tortuga to prevent their reception there.[336] However, although the governor wrote home in the latter part of the month that the privateers were entirely suppressed, he soon found that the task was by no means a simple one. Two buccaneers with a commission from Modyford, an Englishman named Thurston and a mulatto named Diego, flouted his offer of pardon, continued to prey upon Spanish shipping, and carried their prizes to Tortuga.[337] A Dutchman named Captain Yallahs (or Yellowes) fled to Campeache, sold his frigate for 7000 pieces of eight to the Spanish governor, and entered into Spanish service to cruise against the English logwood-cutters. The Governor of Jamaica sent Captain Wilgress in pursuit, but Wilgress devoted his time to chasing a Spanish vessel ashore, stealing logwood and burning Spanish houses on the coast.[338] A party of buccaneers, English and French, landed upon the north side of Cuba and burnt two towns, carrying away women and inflicting many cruelties on the inhabitants; and when the governors of Havana and St. Jago complained to Lynch, the latter could only disavow the English in the marauding party as rebels and pirates, and bid the Spanish governors hang all who fell into their power.[339] The governor, in fact, was having his hands full, and wrote in January 1672 that "this cursed trade has been so long followed, and there is so many of it, that like weeds or hydras, they spring up as fast as we can cut them down."[340] Some of the recalcitrant freebooters, however, were captured and brought to justice. Major Beeston, sent by the governor in January 1672, with a frigate and four smaller vessels, to seize and burn some pirate ships careening on the south cays of Cuba, fell in instead with two other vessels, one English and one French, which had taken part in the raids upon Cuba, and carried them to Jamaica. The French captain was offered to the Governor of St. Jago, but the latter refused to punish him for fear of his comrades in Tortuga and Hispaniola. Both captains were therefore tried and condemned to death at Port Royal. As the Spaniards, however, had refused to punish them, and as there was no reason why the Jamaicans should be the executioners, the captains of the port and some of the council begged for a reprieve, and the English prisoner, Francis Witherborn, was sent to England.[341] Captain Johnson, one of the pirates after whom Beeston had originally been sent, was later in the year shipwrecked by a hurricane upon the coast of Jamaica. Johnson, immediately after the publication of the peace by Sir Thomas Lynch, had fled from Port Royal with about ten followers, and falling in with a Spanish ship of eighteen guns, had seized it and killed the captain and twelve or fourteen of the crew. Then gathering about him a party of a hundred or more, English and French, he had robbed Spanish vessels round Havana and the Cuban coast. Finally, however, he grew weary of his French companions, and sailed for Jamaica to make terms with the governor, when on coming to anchor in Morant Bay he was blown ashore by the hurricane. The governor had him arrested, and gave a commission to Colonel Modyford, the son of Sir Thomas, to assemble the justices and proceed to trial and immediate execution. He adjured him, moreover, to see to it that the pirate was not acquitted. Colonel Modyford, nevertheless, sharing perhaps his father's sympathy with the sea-rovers, deferred the trial, acquainted none of the justices with his orders, and although Johnson and two of his men "confessed enough to hang a hundred honester persons," told the jury they could not find against the prisoner. Half an hour after the dismissal of the court, Johnson "came to drink with his judges." The baffled governor thereupon placed Johnson a second time under arrest, called a meeting of the council, from which he dismissed Colonel Modyford, and "finding material errors," reversed the judgment. The pirate was again tried--Lynch himself this time presiding over the court--and upon making a full confession, was condemned and executed, though "as much regretted," writes Lynch, "as if he had been as pious and as innocent as one of the primitive martyrs." The second trial was contrary to the fundamental principles of English law, howsoever guilty the culprit may have been, and the king sent a letter to Lynch reproving him for his rashness. He commanded the governor to try all pirates thereafter by maritime law, and if a disagreement arose to remit the case to the king for re-judgment. Nevertheless he ordered Lynch to suspend from all public employments in the island, whether civil or military, both Colonel Modyford and all others guilty with him of designedly acquitting Johnson.[342] The Spaniards in the West Indies, notwithstanding the endeavours of Sir Thomas Lynch to clear their coasts of pirates, made little effort to co-operate with him. The governors of Cartagena and St. Jago de Cuba, pretending that they feared being punished for allowing trade, had forbidden English frigates to come into their ports, and refused them provisions and water; and the Governor of Campeache had detained money, plate and negroes taken out of an English trading-vessel, to the value of 12,000 pieces of eight. When Lynch sent to demand satisfaction, the governor referred him to Madrid for justice, "which to me that have been there," writes Lynch, "seems worse than the taking it away."[343] The news also of the imposing armament, which the Spanish grandees made signs of preparing to send to the Indies on learning of the capture of Panama, was in November 1671 just beginning to filter into Jamaica; and the governor and council, fearing that the fleet was directed against them, made vigorous efforts, by repairing the forts, collecting stores and marshalling the militia, to put the island in a state of defence. The Spanish fleet never appeared, however, and life on the island soon subsided into its customary channels.[344] Sir Thomas Lynch, meanwhile, was all the more careful to observe the peace with Spain and yet refrain from alienating the more troublesome elements of the population. It had been decided in England that Morgan, too, like Modyford, was to be sacrificed, formally at least, to the remonstrances of the Spanish Government; yet Lynch, because Morgan himself was ill, and fearing perhaps that two such arrests might create a disturbance among the friends of the culprits, or at least deter the buccaneers from coming in under the declaration of amnesty, did not send the admiral to England until the following spring. On 6th April 1672 Morgan sailed from Jamaica a prisoner in the frigate "Welcome."[345] He sailed, however, with the universal respect and sympathy of all parties in the colony. Lynch himself calls him "an honest, brave fellow," and Major James Banister in a letter to the Secretary of State recommends him to the esteem of Arlington as "a very well deserving person, and one of great courage and conduct, who may, with his Majesty's pleasure, perform good service at home, and be very advantageous to the island if war should break forth with the Spaniard."[346] Indeed Morgan, the buccaneer, was soon in high favour at the dissolute court of Charles II., and when in January 1674 the Earl of Carlisle was chosen Governor of Jamaica, Morgan was selected as his deputy[347]--an act which must have entirely neutralized in Spanish Councils the effect of his arrest a year and a half earlier. Lord Carlisle, however, did not go out to Jamaica until 1678, and meanwhile in April a commission to be governor was issued to Lord Vaughan,[348] and several months later another to Morgan as lieutenant-governor.[349] Vaughan arrived in Jamaica in the middle of March 1675; but Morgan, whom the king in the meantime had knighted, sailed ahead of Vaughan, apparently in defiance of the governor's orders, and although shipwrecked on the Isle la Vache, reached Jamaica a week before his superior.[350] It seems that Sir Thomas Modyford sailed for Jamaica with Morgan, and the return of these two arch-offenders to the West Indies filled the Spanish Court with new alarms. The Spanish ambassador in London presented a memorial of protest to the English king,[351] and in Spain the Council of War blossomed into fresh activity to secure the defence of the West Indies and the coasts of the South Sea.[352] Ever since 1672, indeed, the Spaniards moved by some strange infatuation, had persisted in a course of active hostility to the English in the West Indies. Could the Spanish Government have realized the inherent weakness of its American possessions, could it have been informed of the scantiness of the population in proportion to the large extent of territory and coast-line to be defended, could it have known how in the midst of such rich, unpeopled countries abounding with cattle, hogs and other provisions, the buccaneers could be extirpated only by co-operation with its English and French neighbours, it would have soon fallen back upon a policy of peace and good understanding with England. But the news of the sack of Panama, following so close upon the conclusion of the treaty of 1670, and the continued depredations of the buccaneers of Tortuga and the declared pirates of Jamaica, had shattered irrevocably the reliance of the Spaniards upon the good faith of the English Government. And when Morgan was knighted and sent back to Jamaica as lieutenant-governor, their suspicions seemed to be confirmed. A ketch, sent to Cartagena in 1672 by Sir Thomas Lynch to trade in negroes, was seized by the general of the galleons, the goods burnt in the market-place, and the negroes sold for the Spanish King's account.[353] An Irish papist, named Philip Fitzgerald, commanding a Spanish man-of-war of twelve guns belonging to Havana, and a Spaniard called Don Francisco with a commission from the Governor of Campeache, roamed the West Indian seas and captured English vessels sailing from Jamaica to London, Virginia and the Windward Islands, barbarously ill-treating and sometimes massacring the English mariners who fell into their hands.[354] The Spanish governors, in spite of the treaty and doubtless in conformity with orders from home,[355] did nothing to restrain the cruelties of these privateers. At one time eight English sailors who had been captured in a barque off Port Royal and carried to Havana, on attempting to escape from the city were pursued by a party of soldiers, and all of them murdered, the head of the master being set on a pole before the governor's door.[356] At another time Fitzgerald sailed into the harbour of Havana with five Englishmen tied ready to hang, two at the main-yard arms, two at the fore-yard arms, and one at the mizzen peak, and as he approached the castle he had the wretches swung off, while he and his men shot at the dangling corpses from the decks of the vessel.[357] The repeated complaints and demands for reparation made to the Spanish ambassador in London, and by Sir William Godolphin to the Spanish Court, were answered by counter-complaints of outrages committed by buccaneers who, though long ago disavowed and declared pirates by the Governor of Jamaica, were still charged by the Spaniards to the account of the English.[358] Each return of the fleet from Porto Bello or Vera Cruz brought with it English prisoners from Cartagena and other Spanish fortresses, who were lodged in the dungeons of Seville and often condemned to the galleys or to the quicksilver mines. The English ambassador sometimes secured their release, but his efforts to obtain redress for the loss of ships and goods received no satisfaction. The Spanish Government, believing that Parliament was solicitous of Spanish trade and would not supply Charles II. with the necessary funds for a war,[359] would disburse nothing in damages. It merely granted to the injured parties despatches directed to the Governor of Havana, which ordered him to restore the property in dispute unless it was contraband goods. Godolphin realized that these delays and excuses were only the prelude to an ultimate denial of any reparation whatever, and wrote home to the Secretary of State that "England ought rather to provide against future injuries than to depend on satisfaction here, till they have taught the Spaniards their own interest in the West Indies by more efficient means than friendship."[360] The aggrieved merchants and shipowners, often only too well acquainted with the dilatory Spanish forms of procedure, saw that redress at Havana was hopeless, and petitioned Charles II. for letters of reprisal.[361] Sir Leoline Jenkins, Judge of the Admiralty, however, in a report to the king gave his opinion that although he saw little hope of real reparation, the granting of reprisals was not justified by law until the cases had been prosecuted at Havana according to the queen-regent's orders.[362] This apparently was never done, and some of the cases dragged on for years without the petitioners ever receiving satisfaction. The excuse of the Spaniards for most of these seizures was that the vessels contained logwood, a dyewood found upon the coasts of Campeache, Honduras and Yucatan, the cutting and removal of which was forbidden to any but Spanish subjects. The occupation of cutting logwood had sprung up among the English about ten years after the seizure of Jamaica. In 1670 Modyford writes that a dozen vessels belonging to Port Royal were concerned in this trade alone, and six months later he furnished a list of thirty-two ships employed in logwood cutting, equipped with seventy-four guns and 424 men.[363] The men engaged in the business had most of them been privateers, and as the regions in which they sought the precious wood were entirely uninhabited by Spaniards, Modyford suggested that the trade be encouraged as an outlet for the energies of the buccaneers. By such means, he thought, these "soldiery men" might be kept within peaceable bounds, and yet be always ready to serve His Majesty in event of any new rupture. When Sir Thomas Lynch replaced Modyford, he realized that this logwood-cutting would be resented by the Spaniards and might neutralize all his efforts to effect a peace. He begged repeatedly for directions from the council in England. "For God's sake," he writes, "give your commands about the logwood."[364] In the meantime, after consulting with Modyford, he decided to connive at the business, but he compelled all who brought the wood into Port Royal to swear that they had not stolen it or done any violence to the Spaniards.[365] Secretary Arlington wrote to the governor, in November 1671, to hold the matter over until he obtained the opinion of the English ambassador at Madrid, especially as some colour was lent to the pretensions of the logwood cutters by the article of the peace of 1670 which confirmed the English King in the possession and sovereignty of all territory in America occupied by his subjects at that date.[366] In May 1672 Ambassador Godolphin returned his answer. "The wood," he writes, "is brought from Yucatan, a large province of New Spain, about 100 leagues in length, sufficiently peopled, having several great towns, as Merida, Valladolid, San Francisco de Campeache, etc., and the government one of the most considerable next to Peru and Mexico.... So that Spain has as well too much right as advantage not to assert the propriety of these woods, for though not all inhabited, these people may as justly pretend to make use of our rivers, mountains and commons, as we can to enjoy any benefit to those woods." So much for the strict justice of the matter. But when the ambassador came to give his own opinion on the trade, he advised that if the English confined themselves to cutting wood alone, and in places remote from Spanish settlements, the king might connive at, although not authorize, their so doing.[367] Here was the kernel of the whole matter. Spain was too weak and impotent to take any serious revenge. So let us rob her quietly but decently, keeping the theft out of her sight and so sparing her feelings as much as possible. It was the same piratical motive which animated Drake and Hawkins, which impelled Morgan to sack Maracaibo and Panama, and which, transferred to the dignified council chambers of England, took on a more humane but less romantic guise. On 8th October 1672, the Council for the Plantations dispatched to Governor Lynch their approval of his connivance at the business, but they urged him to observe every care and prudence, to countenance the cutting only in desolate and uninhabited places, and to use every endeavour to prevent any just complaints by the Spaniards of violence and depredation.[368] The Spaniards nevertheless did, as we have seen, engage in active reprisal, especially as they knew the cutting of logwood to be but the preliminary step to the growth of English settlements upon the coasts of Yucatan and Honduras, settlements, indeed, which later crystallized into a British colony. The Queen-Regent of Spain sent orders and instructions to her governors in the West Indies to encourage privateers to take and punish as pirates all English and French who robbed and carried away wood within their jurisdictions; and three small frigates from Biscay were sent to clear out the intruders.[369] The buccaneer Yallahs, we have seen, was employed by the Governor of Campeache to seize the logwood-cutters; and although he surprised twelve or more vessels, the Governor of Jamaica, not daring openly to avow the business, could enter no complaint. On 3rd November 1672, however, he was compelled to issue a proclamation ordering all vessels sailing from Port Royal for the purpose of cutting dye-wood to go in fleets of at least four as security against surprise and capture. Under the governorship of Lord Vaughan, and after him of Lord Carlisle, matters continued in this same uncertain course, the English settlements in Honduras gradually increasing in numbers and vitality, and the Spaniards maintaining their right to take all ships they found at sea laden with logwood, and indeed, all English and French ships found upon their coasts. Each of the English governors in turn had urged that some equitable adjustment of the trade be made with the Spanish Crown, if peace was to be preserved in the Indies and the buccaneers finally suppressed; but the Spaniards would agree to no accommodation, and in March 1679 the king wrote to Lord Carlisle bidding him discourage, as far as possible, the logwood-cutting in Campeache or any other of the Spanish dominions, and to try and induce the buccaneers to apply themselves to planting instead.[370] The reprisals of the Spaniards on the score of logwood-cutting were not the only difficulties with which Lord Vaughan as governor had to contend. From the day of his landing in Jamaica he seems to have conceived a violent dislike of his lieutenant, Sir Henry Morgan, and this antagonism was embittered by Morgan's open or secret sympathy with the privateers, a race with whom Vaughan had nothing in common. The ship on which Morgan had sailed from England, and which was cast away upon the Isle la Vache, had contained the military stores for Jamaica, most of which were lost in the wreck. Morgan, contrary to Lord Vaughan's positive and written orders, had sailed before him, and assumed the authority in Jamaica a week before the arrival of the governor at Port Royal. This the governor seems to have been unable to forgive. He openly blamed Morgan for the wreck and the loss of the stores; and only two months after his coming to Jamaica, in May 1675, he wrote to England that for the good of His Majesty's service he thought Morgan ought to be removed, and the charge of so useless an officer saved.[371] In September he wrote that he was "every day more convinced of (Morgan's) imprudence and unfitness to have anything to do in the Civil Government, and of what hazards the island may run by so dangerous a succession." Sir Henry, he continued, had made himself and his authority so cheap at the Port, drinking and gaming in the taverns, that the governor intended to remove thither speedily himself for the reputation of the island and the security of the place.[372] He recommended that his predecessor, Sir Thomas Lynch, whom he praises for "his prudent government and conduct of affairs," be appointed his deputy instead of Morgan in the event of the governor's death or absence.[373] Lord Vaughan's chief grievance, however, was the lieutenant-governor's secret encouragement of the buccaneers. "What I most resent," he writes again, "is ... that I find Sir Henry, contrary to his duty and trust, endeavours to set up privateering, and has obstructed all my designs and purposes for the reducing of those that do use this course of life."[374] When he had issued proclamations, the governor continued, declaring as pirates all the buccaneers who refused to submit, Sir Henry had encouraged the English freebooters to take French commissions, had himself fitted them out for sea, and had received authority from the French Governor of Tortuga to collect the tenths on prize goods brought into Jamaica under cover of these commissions. The quarrel came to a head over the arrest and trial of a buccaneer named John Deane, commander of the ship "St. David." Deane was accused of having stopped a ship called the "John Adventure," taken out several pipes of wine and a cable worth £100, and forcibly carried the vessel to Jamaica. He was also reported to be wearing Dutch, French and Spanish colours without commission.[375] When the "John Adventure" entered Port Royal it was seized by the governor for landing goods without entry, contrary to the Acts of Navigation, and on complaint of the master of the vessel that he had been robbed by Deane and other privateers, Sir Henry Morgan was ordered to imprison the offenders. The lieutenant-governor, however, seems rather to have encouraged them to escape,[376] until Deane made so bold as to accuse the governor of illegal seizure. Deane was in consequence arrested by the governor, and on 27th April 1676, in a Court of Admiralty presided over by Lord Vaughan as vice-admiral, was tried and condemned to suffer death as a pirate.[377] The proceedings, however, were not warranted by legal practice, for according to statutes of the twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth years of Henry VIII., pirates might not be tried in an Admiralty Court, but only under the Common Law of England by a Commission of Oyer and Terminer under the great seal.[378] After obtaining an opinion to this effect from the Judge of the Admiralty, the English Council wrote to Lord Vaughan staying the execution of Deane, and ordering a new trial to be held under a proper commission about to be forwarded to him.[379] The Governor of Jamaica, however, upon receiving a confession from Deane and frequent petitions for pardon, had reprieved the pirate a month before the letter from the council reached him.[380] The incident had good effect in persuading the freebooters to come in, and that result assured, the governor could afford to bend to popular clamour in favour of the culprit. In the latter part of 1677 a standing commission of Oyer and Terminer for the trial of pirates in Jamaica was prepared by the attorney-general and sent to the colony.[381] After the trial of Deane, the lieutenant-governor, according to Lord Vaughan, had openly expressed himself, both in the taverns and in his own house, in vindication of the condemned man and in disparagement of Vaughan himself.[382] The quarrel hung fire, however, until on 24th July when the governor, in obedience to orders from England,[383] cited Morgan and his brother-in-law, Colonel Byndloss, to appear before the council. Against Morgan he brought formal charges of using the governor's name and authority without his orders in letters written to the captains of the privateers, and Byndloss he accused of unlawfully holding a commission from a foreign governor to collect the tenths on condemned prize goods.[384] Morgan in his defence to Secretary Coventry flatly denied the charges, and denounced the letters written to the privateers as forgeries; and Byndloss declared his readiness "to go in this frigate with a tender of six or eight guns and so to deal with the privateers at sea, and in their holes (_sic_) bring in the chief of them to His Majesty's obedience or bring in their heads and destroy their ships."[385] There seems to be little doubt that letters were written by Morgan to certain privateers soon after his arrival in Jamaica, offering them, in the name of the governor, favour and protection in Port Royal. Copies of these letters, indeed, still exist;[386] but whether they were actually used is not so certain. Charles Barre, secretary to Sir Henry Morgan, confessed that such letters had been written, but with the understanding that the governor lent them his approval, and that when this was denied Sir Henry refused to send them.[387] It is natural to suppose that Morgan should feel a bond of sympathy with his old companions in the buccaneer trade, and it is probable that in 1675, in the first enthusiasm of his return to Jamaica, having behind him the openly-expressed approbation of the English Court for what he had done in the past, and feeling uncertain, perhaps, as to Lord Vaughan's real attitude toward the sea-rovers, Morgan should have done some things inconsistent with the policy of stern suppression pursued by the government. It is even likely that he was indiscreet in some of his expressions regarding the governor and his actions. His bluff, unconventional, easygoing manners, natural to men brought up in new countries and intensified by his early association with the buccaneers, may have been distasteful to a courtier accustomed to the urbanities of Whitehall. It is also clear, however, that Lord Vaughan from the first conceived a violent prejudice against his lieutenant, and allowed this prejudice to colour the interpretation he put upon all of Sir Henry's actions. And it is rather significant that although the particulars of the dispute and of the examination before the Council of Jamaica were sent to the Privy Council in England, the latter body did not see fit to remove Morgan from his post until six years later. As in the case of Modyford and Lynch, so with Lord Vaughan, the thorn in his side was the French colony on Hispaniola and Tortuga. The English buccaneers who would not come in under the proclamation of pardon published at Port Royal, still continued to range the seas with French commissions, and carried their prizes into French ports. The governor protested to M. d'Ogeron and to his successor, M. de Pouançay, declaring that any English vessels or subjects caught with commissions against the Spaniards would be treated as pirates and rebels; and in December 1675, in compliance with the king's orders of the previous August, he issued a public proclamation to that effect.[388] In April 1677 an act was passed by the assembly, declaring it felony for any English subject belonging to the island to serve under a foreign prince or state without licence under the hand and seal of the governor;[389] and in the following July the council ordered another proclamation to be issued, offering ample pardon to all men in foreign service who should come in within twelve months to claim the benefit of the act.[390] These measures seem to have been fairly successful, for on 1st August Peter Beckford, Clerk of the Council in Jamaica, wrote to Secretary Williamson that since the passing of the law at least 300 privateers had come in and submitted, and that few men would now venture their lives to serve the French.[391] Even with the success of this act, however, the path of the governor was not all roses. Buccaneering had always been so much a part of the life of the colony that it was difficult to stamp it out entirely. Runaway servants and others from the island frequently recruited the ranks of the freebooters; members of the assembly, and even of the council, were interested in privateering ventures; and as the governor was without a sufficient naval force to deal with the offenders independently of the council and assembly, he often found his efforts fruitless. In the early part of 1677 a Scotchman, named James Browne, with a commission from M. d'Ogeron and a mixed crew of English, Dutch and French, seized a Dutch ship trading in negroes off the coast of Cartagena, killed the Dutch captain and several of his men, and landed the negroes, about 150 in number, in a remote bay of Jamaica. Lord Vaughan sent a frigate which seized about 100 of the negroes, and when Browne and his crew fell into the governor's hands he had them all tried and condemned for piracy. Browne was ordered to be executed, but his men, eight in number, were pardoned. The captain petitioned the assembly to have the benefit of the Act of Privateers, and the House twice sent a committee to the governor to endeavour to obtain a reprieve. Lord Vaughan, however, refused to listen and gave orders for immediate execution. Half an hour after the hanging, the provost-marshal appeared with an order signed by the speaker to observe the Chief-Justice's writ of Habeas Corpus, whereupon Vaughan, resenting the action, immediately dissolved the Assembly.[392] The French colony on Hispaniola was an object of concern to the Jamaicans, not only because it served as a refuge for privateers from Port Royal, but also because it threatened soon to overwhelm the old Spanish colony and absorb the whole island. Under the conciliatory, opportunist regime of M. d'Ogeron, the French settlements in the west of the island had grown steadily in number and size;[393] while the old Spanish towns seemed every year to become weaker and more open to attack. D'Ogeron, who died in France in 1675, had kept always before him the project of capturing the Spanish capital, San Domingo; but he was too weak to accomplish so great a design without aid from home, and this was never vouchsafed him. His policy, however, was continued by his nephew and successor, M. de Pouançay, and every defection from Jamaica seemed so much assistance to the French to accomplish their ambition. Yet it was manifestly to the English interest in the West Indies not to permit the French to obtain a pre-eminence there. The Spanish colonies were large in area, thinly populated, and ill-supported by the home government, so that they were not likely to be a serious menace to the English islands. With their great wealth and resources, moreover, they had few manufactures and offered a tempting field for exploitation by English merchants. The French colonies, on the other hand, were easily supplied with merchandise from France, and in event of a war would prove more dangerous as neighbours than the Spaniards. To allow the French to become lords of San Domingo would have been to give them an undisputed predominance in the West Indies and make them masters of the neighbouring seas. In the second war of conquest waged by Louis XIV. against Holland, the French in the West Indies found the buccaneers to be useful allies, but as usually happened at such times, the Spaniards paid the bill. In the spring of 1677 five or six English privateers surprised the town of Santa Marta on the Spanish Main. According to the reports brought to Jamaica, the governor and the bishop, in order to save the town from being burnt, agreed with the marauders for a ransom; but the Governor of Cartagena, instead of contributing with pieces of eight, despatched a force of 500 men by land and three vessels by sea to drive out the invaders. The Spanish troops, however, were easily defeated, and the ships, seeing the French colours waving over the fort and the town, sailed back to Cartagena. The privateers carried away the governor and the bishop and came to Jamaica in July. The plunder amounted to only £20 per man. The English in the party, about 100 in number and led by Captains Barnes and Coxon, submitted at Port Royal under the terms of the Act against Privateers, and delivered up the Bishop of Santa Marta to Lord Vaughan. Vaughan took care to lodge the bishop well, and hired a vessel to send him to Cartagena, at which "the good old man was exceedingly pleased." He also endeavoured to obtain the custody of the Spanish governor and other prisoners, but without success, "the French being obstinate and damnably enraged the English had left them" and submitted to Lord Vaughan.[394] In the beginning of the following year, 1678, Count d'Estrées, Vice-Admiral of the French fleet in the West Indies, was preparing a powerful armament to go against the Dutch on Curaçao, and sent two frigates to Hispaniola with an order from the king to M. de Pouançay to join him with 1200 buccaneers. De Pouançay assembled the men at Cap François, and embarking on the frigates and on some filibustering ships in the road, sailed for St. Kitts. There he was joined by a squadron of fifteen or more men-of-war from Martinique under command of Count d'Estrées. The united fleet of over thirty vessels sailed for Curaçao on 7th May, but on the fourth day following, at about eight o'clock in the evening, was wrecked upon some coral reefs near the Isle d'Aves.[395] As the French pilots had been at odds among themselves as to the exact position of the fleet, the admiral had taken the precaution to send a fire-ship and three buccaneering vessels several miles in advance of the rest of the squadron. Unfortunately these scouts drew too little water and passed over the reefs without touching them. A buccaneer was the first to strike and fired three shots to warn the admiral, who at once lighted fires and discharged cannon to keep off the rest of the ships. The latter, however, mistaking the signals, crowded on sail, and soon most of the fleet were on the reefs. Those of the left wing, warned in time by a shallop from the flag-ship, succeeded in veering off. The rescue of the crews was slow, for the seas were heavy and the boats approached the doomed ships with difficulty. Many sailors and marines were drowned, and seven men-of-war, besides several buccaneering ships, were lost on the rocks. Count d'Estrées himself escaped, and sailed with the remnant of his squadron to Petit Goave and Cap François in Hispaniola, whence on 18th June he departed for France.[396] The buccaneers were accused in the reports which reached Barbadoes of deserting the admiral after the accident, and thus preventing the reduction of Curaçao, which d'Estrées would have undertaken in spite of the shipwreck.[397] However this may be, one of the principal buccaneer leaders, named de Grammont, was left by de Pouançay at the Isle d'Aves to recover what he could from the wreck, and to repair some of the privateering vessels.[398] When he had accomplished this, finding himself short of provisions, he sailed with about 700 men to make a descent on Maracaibo; and after spending six months in the lake, seizing the shipping and plundering all the settlements in that region, he re-embarked in the middle of December. The booty is said to have been very small.[399] Early in the same year the Marquis de Maintenon, commanding the frigate "La Sorcière," and aided by some French filibusters from Tortuga, was on the coast of Caracas, where he ravaged the islands of Margarita and Trinidad. He had arrived in the West Indies from France in the latter part of 1676, and when he sailed from Tortuga was at the head of 700 or 800 men. His squadron met with little success, however, and soon scattered.[400] Other bands of filibusters pillaged Campeache, Puerto Principe in Cuba, Santo Tomas on the Orinoco, and Truxillo in the province of Honduras; and de Pouançay, to console the buccaneers for their losses at the Isle d'Aves, sent 800 men under the Sieur de Franquesnay to make a descent upon St. Jago de Cuba, but the expedition seems to have been a failure.[401] On 1st March 1678 a commission was again issued to the Earl of Carlisle, appointing him governor of Jamaica.[402] Carlisle arrived in his new government on 18th July,[403] but Lord Vaughan, apparently because of ill-health, had already sailed for England at the end of March, leaving Sir Henry Morgan, who retained his place under the new governor, deputy in his absence.[404] Lord Carlisle, immediately upon his arrival, invited the privateers to come in and encouraged them to stay, hoping, according to his own account, to be able to wean them from their familiar courses, and perhaps to use them in the threatened war with France, for the island then had "not above 4000 whites able to bear arms, a secret not fit to be made public."[405] If the governor was sincere in his intentions, the results must have been a bitter disappointment. Some of the buccaneers came in, others persevered in the old trade, and even those who returned abused the pardon they had received. In the autumn of 1679, several privateering vessels under command of Captains Coxon, Sharp and others who had come back to Jamaica, made a raid in the Gulf of Honduras, plundered the royal storehouses there, carried off 500 chests of indigo,[406] besides cocoa, cochineal, tortoiseshell, money and plate, and returned with their plunder to Jamaica. Not knowing what their reception might be, one of the vessels landed her cargo of indigo in an unfrequented spot on the coast, and the rest sent word that unless they were allowed to bring their booty to Port Royal and pay the customs duty, they would sail to Rhode Island or to one of the Dutch plantations. The governor had taken security for good behaviour from some of the captains before they sailed from Jamaica; yet in spite of this they were permitted to enter the indigo at the custom house and divide it in broad daylight; and the frigate "Success" was ordered to coast round Jamaica in search of other privateers who failed to come in and pay duty on their plunder at Port Royal. The glut of indigo in Jamaica disturbed trade considerably, and for a time the imported product took the place of native sugar and indigo as a medium of exchange. Manufacture on the island was hindered, prices were lowered, and only the king's customs received any actual benefit.[407] These same privateers, however, were soon out upon a much larger design. Six captains, Sharp, Coxon, Essex, Allison, Row, and Maggott, in four barques and two sloops, met at Point Morant in December 1679, and on 7th January set sail for Porto Bello. They were scattered by a terrible storm, but all eventually reached their rendezvous in safety. There they picked up another barque commanded by Captain Cooke, who had sailed from Jamaica on the same design, and likewise a French privateering vessel commanded by Captain Lessone. They set out for Porto Bello in canoes with over 300 men, and landing twenty leagues from the town, marched for four days along the seaside toward the city. Coming to an Indian village about three miles from Porto Bello, they were discovered by the natives, and one of the Indians ran to the city, crying, "Ladrones! ladrones!" The buccaneers, although "many of them were weak, being three days without any food, and their feet cut with the rocks for want of shoes," made all speed for the town, which they entered without difficulty on 17th February 1680. Most of the inhabitants sought refuge in the castle, whence they made a counter-attack without success upon the invaders. On the evening of the following day, the buccaneers retreated with their prisoners and booty down to a cay or small island about three and a half leagues from Porto Bello, where they were joined by their ships. They had just left in time to avoid a force of some 700 Spanish troops who were sent from Panama and arrived the day after the buccaneers departed. After capturing two Spanish vessels bound for Porto Bello with provisions from Cartagena, they divided the plunder, of which each man received 100 pieces of eight, and departed for Boca del Toro some fifty leagues to the north. There they careened and provisioned, and being joined by two other Jamaican privateers commanded by Sawkins and Harris, sailed for Golden Island, whence on 5th April 1680, with 334 men, they began their march across the Isthmus of Darien to the coasts of Panama and the South Seas.[408] Lord Carlisle cannot escape the charge of culpable negligence for having permitted these vessels in the first place to leave Jamaica. All the leaders in the expedition were notorious privateers, men who had repeatedly been concerned in piratical outrages against the Dutch and Spaniards. Coxon and Harris had both come in after taking part in the expedition against Santa Marta; Sawkins had been caught with his vessel by the frigate "Success" and sent to Port Royal, where on 1st December 1679 he seems to have been in prison awaiting trial;[410] while Essex had been brought in by another frigate, the "Hunter," in November, and tried with twenty of his crew for plundering on the Jamaican coast, two of his men being sentenced to death.[411] The buccaneers themselves declared that they had sailed with permission from Lord Carlisle to cut logwood.[412] This was very likely true; yet after the exactly similar ruse of these men when they went to Honduras, the governor could not have failed to suspect their real intentions. At the end of May 1680 Lord Carlisle suddenly departed for England in the frigate "Hunter," leaving Morgan again in charge as lieutenant-governor.[413] On his passage home the governor met with Captain Coxon, who, having quarrelled with his companions in the Pacific, had returned across Darien to the West Indies and was again hanging about the shores of Jamaica. The "Hunter" gave chase for twenty-four hours, but being outsailed was content to take two small vessels in the company of Coxon which had been deserted by their crews.[414] In England Samuel Long, whom the governor had suspended from the council and dismissed from his post as chief justice of the colony for his opposition to the new Constitution, accused the governor before the Privy Council of collusion with pirates and encouraging them to bring their plunder to Jamaica. The charges were doubtless conceived in a spirit of revenge; nevertheless the two years during which Carlisle was in Jamaica were marked by an increased activity among the freebooters, and by a lukewarmness and negligence on the part of the government, for which Carlisle alone must be held responsible. To accuse him of deliberately supporting and encouraging the buccaneers, however, may be going too far. Sir Henry Morgan, during his tenure of the chief command of the island, showed himself very zealous in the pursuit of the pirates, and sincerely anxious to bring them to justice; and as Carlisle and Morgan always worked together in perfect harmony, we may be justified in believing that Carlisle's mistakes were those of negligence rather than of connivance. The freebooters who brought goods into Jamaica increased the revenues of the island, and a governor whose income was small and tastes extravagant, was not apt to be too inquisitive about the source of the articles which entered through the customs. There is evidence, moreover, that French privateers, being unable to obtain from the merchants on the coast of San Domingo the cables, anchors, tar and other naval stores necessary for their armaments, were compelled to resort to other islands to buy them, and that Jamaica came in for a share of this trade. Provisions, too, were more plentiful at Port Royal than in the _cul-de-sac_ of Hispaniola, and the French governors complained to the king that the filibusters carried most of their money to foreign plantations to exchange for these commodities. Such French vessels if they came to Jamaica were not strictly within the scope of the laws against piracy which had been passed by the assembly, and their visits were the more welcome as they paid for their goods promptly and liberally in good Spanish doubloons.[415] A general warrant for the apprehension of Coxon, Sharp and the other men who had plundered Porto Bello had been issued by Lord Carlisle in May 1680, just before his departure for England. On 1st July a similar warrant was issued by Morgan, and five days later a proclamation was published against all persons who should hold any correspondence whatever with the outlawed crews.[416] Three men who had taken part in the expedition were captured and clapped into prison until the next meeting of the court. The friends of Coxon, however, including, it seems, almost all the members of the council, offered to give £2000 security, if he was allowed to come to Port Royal, that he would never take another commission except from the King of England; and Morgan wrote to Carlisle seeking his approbation.[417] At the end of the following January Morgan received word that a notorious Dutch privateer, named Jacob Everson, commanding an armed sloop, was anchored on the coast with a brigantine which he had lately captured. The lieutenant-governor manned a small vessel with fifty picked men and sent it secretly at midnight to seize the pirate. Everson's sloop was boarded and captured with twenty-six prisoners, but Everson himself and several others escaped by jumping overboard and swimming to the shore. The prisoners, most of whom were English, were tried six weeks later, convicted of piracy and sentenced to death; but the lieutenant-governor suspended the execution and wrote to the king for instructions. On 16th June 1681, the king in council ordered the execution of the condemned men.[418] The buccaneers who, after plundering Porto Bello, crossed the Isthmus of Darien to the South Seas, had a remarkable history. For eighteen months they cruised up and down the Pacific coast of South America, burning and plundering Spanish towns, giving and taking hard blows with equal courage, keeping the Spanish provinces of Equador, Peru and Chili in a fever of apprehension, finally sailing the difficult passage round Cape Horn, and returning to the Windward Islands in January of 1682. Touching at the island of Barbadoes, they learned that the English frigate "Richmond" was lying in the road, and fearing seizure they sailed on to Antigua. There the governor, Colonel Codrington, refused to give them leave to enter the harbour. So the party, impatient of their dangerous situation, determined to separate, some landing on Antigua, and Sharp and sixteen others going to Nevis where they obtained passage to England. On their arrival in England several, including Sharp, were arrested at the instance of the Spanish ambassador, and tried for committing piracy in the South Seas; but from the defectiveness of the evidence produced they escaped conviction.[419] Four of the party came to Jamaica, where they were apprehended, tried and condemned. One of the four, who had given himself up voluntarily, turned State's evidence; two were represented by the judges as fit objects of the king's mercy; and the other, "a bloody and notorious villein," was recommended to be executed as an example to the rest.[420] The recrudescence of piratical activity between the years 1679 and 1682 had, through its evil effects, been strongly felt in Jamaica; and public opinion was now gradually changing from one of encouragement and welcome to the privateers and of secret or open opposition to the efforts of the governors who tried to suppress them, to one of distinct hostility to the old freebooters. The inhabitants were beginning to realize that in the encouragement of planting, and not of buccaneering, lay the permanent welfare of the island. Planting and buccaneering, side by side, were inconsistent and incompatible, and the colonists chose the better course of the two. In spite of the frequent trials and executions at Port Royal, the marauders seemed to be as numerous as ever, and even more troublesome. Private trade with the Spaniards was hindered; runaway servants, debtors and other men of unfortunate or desperate condition were still, by every new success of the buccaneers, drawn from the island to swell their ranks; and most of all, men who were now outlawed in Jamaica, driven to desperation turned pirate altogether, and began to wage war indiscriminately on the ships of all nationalities, including those of the English. Morgan repeatedly wrote home urging the dispatch of small frigates of light draught to coast round the island and surprise the freebooters, and he begged for orders for himself to go on board and command them, for "then I shall not much question," he concludes, "to reduce them or in some time to leave them shipless."[421] "The governor," wrote the Council of Jamaica to the Lords of Trade and Plantations in May 1680, "can do little from want of ships to reduce the privateers, and of plain laws to punish them"; and they urged the ratification of the Act passed by the assembly two years before, making it felony for any British subject in the West Indies to serve under a foreign prince without leave from the governor.[422] This Act, and another for the more effectual punishment of pirates, had been under consideration in the Privy Council in February 1678, and both were returned to Jamaica with certain slight amendments. They were again passed by the assembly as one Act in 1681, and were finally incorporated into the Jamaica Act of 1683 "for the restraining and punishing of privateers and pirates."[423] Footnotes: [Footnote 332: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 367.] [Footnote 333: Ibid., Nos. 604, 608, 729; Beeston's Journal.] [Footnote 334: Ibid., Nos. 552, 602.] [Footnote 335: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 608, 633.] [Footnote 336: Ibid., No. 604.] [Footnote 337: Ibid., Nos. 638, 640, 663, 697. This may be the Diego Grillo to whom Duro (_op. cit._, V. p. 180) refers--a native of Havana commanding a vessel of fifteen guns. He defeated successively in the Bahama Channel three armed ships sent out to take him, and in all of them he massacred without exception the Spaniards of European birth. He was captured in 1673 and suffered the fate he had meted out to his victims.] [Footnote 338: Ibid., Nos. 697, 709, 742, 883, 944.] [Footnote 339: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 733, 742, 796.] [Footnote 340: Ibid., No. 729.] [Footnote 341: Ibid., Nos. 742, 777, 785, 789, 794, 796.] [Footnote 342: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 742, 945, 1042.] [Footnote 343: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 733, 742, 779, 796, 820, 1022.] [Footnote 344: Ibid., Nos. 650, 663, 697. Seventeen months later, after the outbreak of the Dutch war, the Jamaicans had a similar scare over an expected invasion of the Dutch and Spaniards, but this, too, was dissolved by time into thin air. (C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 887, 1047, 1055, 1062). In this connection, _cf._ Egerton MSS., 2375, f. 491:--Letter written by the Governor of Cumana to the Duke of Veragua, 1673, seeking his influence with the Council of the Indies to have the Governor of Margarita send against Jamaica 1500 or 2000 Indians, "guay quies," as they are valient bowmen, seamen and divers.] [Footnote 345: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 697, 789, 794, 900, 911; Beeston's Journal.] [Footnote 346: Ibid., Nos. 697, 789.] [Footnote 347: Ibid., Nos. 1212, 1251-5.] [Footnote 348: Ibid., No. 1259, _cf._ also 1374, 1385, 1394.] [Footnote 349: Ibid., No. 1379.] [Footnote 350: Ibid., 1675-76, Nos. 458, 467, 484, 521, 525, 566.] [Footnote 351: S.P. Spain, vol. 63, f. 56.] [Footnote 352: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 1389; _ibid._ 1675-76, No. 564; Add. MSS., 36,330, No. 28.] [Footnote 353: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 888, 940.] [Footnote 354: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 1178, 1180, 1226; _ibid._, 1675-76, No. 579.] [Footnote 355: Ibid., 1669-74, No. 1423; _ibid._, 1675-76, No. 707.] [Footnote 356: Ibid., 1675-76, No. 520.] [Footnote 357: Ibid.] [Footnote 358: Ibid., 1669-74, Nos. 1335, 1351, 1424; S.P. Spain, vols. 60, 62, 63.] [Footnote 359: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76, No. 643.] [Footnote 360: Ibid., Nos. 639-643.] [Footnote 361: Ibid., Nos. 633-635, 729.] [Footnote 362: Ibid., Nos. 693, 719, 720.] [Footnote 363: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 310, 704, iv. It was a very profitable business for the wood then sold at £25 or £30 a ton. For a description of the life of the logwood-cutters _cf._ Dampier, Voyages, _ed._ 1906, ii. pp. 155-56. 178-79, 181 _ff._] [Footnote 364: Ibid., No. 580.] [Footnote 365: Ibid., Nos. 587, 638.] [Footnote 366: Ibid., Nos. 777, 786.] [Footnote 367: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74. No. 825.] [Footnote 368: Ibid., Nos. 819, 943.] [Footnote 369: Ibid., Nos. 954, 1389. Fernandez Duro (t.v., p. 181) mentions a Spanish ordinance of 22nd February 1674, which authorized Spanish corsairs to go out in the pursuit and punishment of pirates. Periaguas, or large flat-bottomed canoes, were to be constructed for use in shoal waters. They were to be 90 feet long and from 16 to 18 feet wide, with a draught of only 4 or 5 feet, and were to be provided with a long gun in the bow and four smaller pieces in the stern. They were to be propelled by both oars and sails, and were to carry 120 men.] [Footnote 370: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, Nos. 950, 1094; Beeston's Journal, Aug. 1679.] [Footnote 371: Ibid., 1675-76, No. 566.] [Footnote 372: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76, No. 673.] [Footnote 373: Ibid., No. 526. In significant contrast to Lord Vaughan's praise of Lynch, Sir Henry Morgan, who could have little love for the man who had shipped him and Modyford as prisoners to England, filled the ears of Secretary Williamson with veiled accusations against Lynch of having tampered with the revenues and neglected the defences of the island. (Ibid., No. 521.)] [Footnote 374: Ibid., No. 912. In testimony of Lord Vaughan's straightforward policy toward buccaneering, _cf._ Beeston's Journal, June 1676.] [Footnote 375: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76, No. 988.] [Footnote 376: Leeds MSS. (Hist. MSS. Comm., XI. pt. 7, p. 13)--Depositions in which Sir Henry Morgan is represented as endeavouring to hush up the matter, saying "the privateers were poore, honest fellows," to which the plundered captain replied "that he had not found them soe."] [Footnote 377: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76; Nos. 860, 913.] [Footnote 378: Statutes at Large, vol. ii. (Lond. 1786), pp. 210, 247.] [Footnote 379: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76; Nos. 993-995, 1001.] [Footnote 380: Ibid., No. 1093.] [Footnote 381: C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 500, 508.] [Footnote 382: Ibid., 1675-76, No. 916.] [Footnote 383: Ibid., No. 1126.] [Footnote 384: Ibid., Nos. 998, 1006.] [Footnote 385: Ibid., No. 1129.] [Footnote 386: Ibid., No. 1129 (vii., viii.); _cf._ also No. 657.] [Footnote 387: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76, No. 1129 (xiv., xvii.).] [Footnote 388: C.S.P. Colon., 1675-76, Nos. 656, 741.] [Footnote 389: Ibid., 1677-80, No. 313; _cf._ also Nos. 478, 486.] [Footnote 390: Ibid., No. 368. A similar proclamation was issued in May 1681; _cf._ Ibid., 1681-85, No. 102.] [Footnote 391: Ibid., No. 375.] [Footnote 392: C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 243, 365, 383; Egerton MSS., 2395, f. 591.] [Footnote 393: In a memoir to Mme. de Montespan, dated 8th July 1677, the population of French San Domingo is given as between four and five thousand, white and black. The colony embraced a strip of coast 80 leagues in length and 9 or 10 miles wide, and it produced 2,000,000 lbs. of tobacco annually. (Bibl. Nat., Nouv. Acq., 9325, f. 258).] [Footnote 394: C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 347, 375, 383, 1497; S.P. Spain, vol. 65, f. 102.] [Footnote 395: A small island east of Curaçao, in latitude 12° north, longitude 67° 41' west.] [Footnote 396: Saint Yves, G. Les campagnes de Jean d'Estrées dans la mer des Antilles, 1676-78; _cf._ also C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 604, 642, 665, 687-90, 718, 741 (xiv., xv.), 1646-47. According to one story, the Dutch governor of Curaçao sent out three privateers with orders to attend the French fleet, but to run no risk of capture. The French, discovering them, gave chase, but being unacquainted with those waters were decoyed among the reefs.] [Footnote 397: C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 1646-47.] [Footnote 398: Dampier says of this occasion: "The privateers ... told me that if they had gone to Jamaica with £30 a man in their Pockets, they could not have enjoyed themselves more. For they kept in a Gang by themselves, and watched when the Ships broke, to get the Goods that came from them; and though much was staved against the Rocks, yet abundance of Wine and Brandy floated over the Riff, where the Privateers waited to take it up. They lived here about three Weeks, waiting an Opportunity to transport themselves back again to Hispaniola; in all which Time they were never without two or three Hogsheads of Wine and Brandy in their Tents, and Barrels of Beef and Pork."--Dampier, _ed._ 1906, i. p. 81.] [Footnote 399: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. viii. p. 120.] [Footnote 400: Bibl. Nat., Nouv. Acq., 9325, f. 260; Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. viii. p. 122.] [Footnote 401: Ibid., p. 119; C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 815, 869; Beeston's Journal, 18th October 1678.] [Footnote 402: C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 569, 575, 618.] [Footnote 403: Ibid., No. 770.] [Footnote 404: Ibid., Nos. 622, 646.] [Footnote 405: C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 770, 815, 1516: Beeston's Journal, 18th October 1678.] [Footnote 406: The Spanish ambassador, Don Pedro Ronquillo, in his complaint to Charles II. in September 1680, placed the number at 1000. (C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, No. 1498.)] [Footnote 407: C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 1150, 1188, 1199, 1516; Beeston's Journal, 29th September and 6th October 1678. Lord Carlisle, in answer to the complaints of the Spanish ambassador, pretended ignorance of the source of the indigo thus admitted through the customs, and maintained that it was brought into Port Royal "in lawful ships by lawful men."] [Footnote 408: Sloane MSS., 2752, f. 29; S.P. Spain, vol. 65, f. 121. According to the latter account, which seems to be derived from a Spanish source, the loss suffered by the city amounted to about 100,000 pieces of eight, over half of which was plunder carried away by the freebooters. Thirteen of the inhabitants were killed and four wounded, and of the buccaneers thirty were killed. Dampier writes concerning this first irruption of the buccaneers into the Pacific:--"Before my first going over into the South Seas with Captain Sharp ... I being then on Board Captain Coxon, in company with 3 or 4 more Privateers, about 4 leagues to the East of Portobel, we took the Pacquets bound thither from Cartagena. We open'd a great quantity of the Merchants Letters, and found ... the Merchants of several parts of Old Spain thereby informing their Correspondents of Panama and elsewhere of a certain Prophecy that went about Spain that year, the Tenour of which was, That there would be English Privateers that Year in the West Indies, who would ... open a Door into the South Seas; which they supposed was fastest shut: and the Letters were accordingly full of Cautions to their Friends to be very watchful and careful of their Coasts. "This Door they spake of we all concluded must be the Passage over Land through the Country of the Indians of Darien, who were a little before this become our Friends, and had lately fallen out with the Spaniards, ... and upon calling to mind the frequent Invitations we had from these Indians a little before this time, to pass through their Country, and fall upon the Spaniards in the South Seas, we from henceforward began to entertain such thoughts in earnest, and soon came to a Resolution to make those Attempts which we afterwards did, ... so that the taking these Letters gave the first life to those bold undertakings: and we took the advantage of the fears the Spaniards were in from that Prophecy ... for we sealed up most of the Letters again, and sent them ashore to Portobel."--_Ed._ 1906, I. pp. 200-201.] [Footnote 410: C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, No. 1199.] [Footnote 411: Ibid., No. 1188.] [Footnote 412: Sloane MSS., 2572, f. 29.] [Footnote 413: C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 1344, 1370.] [Footnote 414: Ibid., No. 1516.] [Footnote 415: _Cf._ Archives Coloniales--Correspondance générale de St Domingue, vol. i.; Martinique, vol. iv.] [Footnote 416: C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 1420, 1425; Sloane MSS., 2724, f. 3.] [Footnote 417: Sloane MSS., 2724, f. 198. Coxon probably did not submit, for Dampier tells us that at the end of May 1681, Coxon was lying with seven or eight other privateers at the Samballas, islands on the coast of Darien, with a ship of ten guns and 100 men.--_Ed._ 1906, i. p. 57.] [Footnote 418: Ibid., f. 200; C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 16, 51, 144, 431. Everson was not shot and killed in the water, as Morgan's account implies, for he flourished for many years afterwards as one of the most notorious of the buccaneer captains.] [Footnote 419: Ringrose's Journal. _Cf._ also S.P. Spain, vol. 67, f. 169; C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, No. 872.] [Footnote 420: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 431, 632, 713; Hist. MSS. Commiss., VII., 405 b.] [Footnote 421: C.S.P Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 1425, 1462.] [Footnote 422: Ibid., No. 1361.] [Footnote 423: C.S.P. Colon., 1677-80, Nos. 601, 606, 607, 611; _ibid._, 1681-85, No. 160; Add. MSS., 22, 676; Acts of Privy Council, Colonial Series I. No. 1203.] CHAPTER VII THE BUCCANEERS TURN PIRATE On 25th May 1682, Sir Thomas Lynch returned to Jamaica as governor of the colony.[424] Of the four acting governors since 1671, Lynch stood apart as the one who had endeavoured with singleness and tenacity of purpose to clear away the evils of buccaneering. Lord Vaughan had displayed little sympathy for the corsairs, but he was hampered by an irascible temper, and according to some reports by an avarice which dimmed the lustre of his name. The Earl of Carlisle, if he did not directly encourage the freebooters, had been grossly negligent in the performance of his duty of suppressing them; while Morgan, although in the years 1680 and 1681 he showed himself very zealous in punishing his old associates, cannot escape the suspicion of having secretly aided them under the governorship of Lord Vaughan. The task of Sir Thomas Lynch in 1671 had been a very difficult one. Buccaneering was then at flood-tide; three wealthy Spanish cities on the mainland had in turn been plundered, and the stolen riches carried to Jamaica; the air was alive with the exploits of these irregular warriors, and the pockets of the merchants and tavern-keepers of Port Royal were filled with Spanish doubloons, with emeralds and pearls from New Granada and the coasts of Rio de la Hacha, and with gold and silver plate from the Spanish churches and cathedrals of Porto Bello and Panama. The old governor, Sir Thomas Modyford, had been popular in his person, and his policy had been more popular still. Yet Lynch, by a combination of tact and firmness, and by an untiring activity with the small means at his disposal, had inaugurated a new and revolutionary policy in the island, which it was the duty of his successors merely to continue. In 1682 the problem before him, although difficult, was much simpler. Buccaneering was now rapidly being transformed into pure piracy. By laws and repeated proclamations, the freebooters had been offered an opportunity of returning to civilized pursuits, or of remaining ever thereafter outlawed. Many had come in, some to remain, others to take the first opportunity of escaping again. But many entirely refused to obey the summons, trusting to the protection of the French in Hispaniola, or so hardened to their cruel, remorseless mode of livelihood that they preferred the dangerous risks of outlawry. The temper of the inhabitants of the island, too, had changed. The planters saw more clearly the social and economic evils which the buccaneers had brought upon the island. The presence of these freebooters, they now began to realize, had discouraged planting, frightened away capital, reduced the number of labourers, and increased drunkenness, debauchery and every sort of moral disorder. The assembly and council were now at one with the governor as to the necessity of curing this running sore, and Lynch could act with the assurance which came of the knowledge that he was backed by the conscience of his people. One of the earliest and most remarkable cases of buccaneer turning pirate was that of "La Trompeuse." In June 1682, before Governor Lynch's arrival in Jamaica, a French captain named Peter Paine (or Le Pain), commander of a merchant ship called "La Trompeuse" belonging to the French King, came to Port Royal from Cayenne in Guiana. He told Sir Henry Morgan and the council that, having heard of the inhuman treatment of his fellow Protestants in France, he had resolved to send back his ship and pay what was due under his contract; and he petitioned for leave to reside with the English and have English protection. The Council, without much inquiry as to the petitioner's antecedents, allowed him to take the oath of allegiance and settle at St. Jago, while his cargo was unloaded and entered customs-free. The ship was then hired by two Jamaican merchants and sent to Honduras to load logwood, with orders to sail eventually for Hamburg and be delivered to the French agent.[425] The action of the Council had been very hasty and ill-considered, and as it turned out, led to endless trouble. It soon transpired that Paine did not own the cargo, but had run away with it from Cayenne, and had disposed of both ship and goods in his own interest. The French ambassador in London made complaints to the English King, and letters were sent out to Sir Thomas Lynch and to Governor Stapleton of the Leeward Isles to arrest Paine and endeavour to have the vessel lade only for her right owners.[426] Meanwhile a French pirate named Jean Hamlin, with 120 desperadoes at his back, set out in a sloop in pursuit of "La Trompeuse," and coming up with her invited the master and mate aboard his own vessel, and then seized the ship. Carrying the prize to some creek or bay to careen her and fit her up as a man-of-war, he then started out on a mad piratical cruise, took sixteen or eighteen Jamaican vessels, barbarously ill-treated the crews, and demoralized the whole trade of the island.[427] Captain Johnson was dispatched by Lynch in a frigate in October 1682 to find and destroy the pirate; but after a fruitless search of two months round Porto Rico and Hispaniola, he returned to Port Royal. In December Lynch learned that "La Trompeuse" was careening in the neighbourhood of the Isle la Vache, and sent out another frigate, the "Guernsey," to seize her; but the wary pirate had in the meantime sailed away. On 15th February the "Guernsey" was again dispatched with positive orders not to stir from the coast of Hispaniola until the pirate was gone or destroyed; and Coxon, who seems to have been in good odour at Port Royal, was sent to offer to a privateer named "Yankey," men, victuals, pardon and naturalization, besides £200 in money for himself and Coxon, if he would go after "La Trompeuse."[428] The next news of Hamlin was from the Virgin Islands, where he was received and entertained by the Governor of St. Thomas, a small island belonging to the King of Denmark.[429] Making St. Thomas his headquarters, he robbed several English vessels that came into his way, and after first obtaining from the Danish governor a promise that he would find shelter at St. Thomas on his return, stood across for the Gulf of Guinea. In May 1683 Hamlin arrived on the west side of Africa disguised as an English man-of-war, and sailing up and down the coast of Sierra Leone captured or destroyed within several weeks seventeen ships, Dutch and English, robbing them of gold-dust and negroes.[430] The pirates then quarrelled over the division of their plunder and separated into two companies, most of the English following a Captain Morgan in one of the prizes, and the rest returning in "La Trompeuse" to the West Indies. The latter arrived at Dominica in July, where forty of the crew deserted the ship, leaving but sixteen white men and twenty-two negroes on board. Finally on the 27th the pirates dropped anchor at St. Thomas. They were admitted and kindly received by the governor, and allowed to bring their plunder ashore.[431] Three days later Captain Carlile of H.M.S. "Francis," who had been sent out by Governor Stapleton to hunt for pirates, sailed into the harbour, and on being assured by the pilot and by an English sloop lying at anchor there that the ship before him was the pirate "La Trompeuse," in the night of the following day he set her on fire and blew her up. Hamlin and some of the crew were on board, but after firing a few shots, escaped to the shore. The pirate ship carried thirty-two guns, and if she had not been under-manned Carlile might have encountered a formidable resistance. The Governor of St. Thomas sent a note of protest to Carlile for having, as he said, secretly set fire to a frigate which had been confiscated to the King of Denmark.[432] Nevertheless he sent Hamlin and his men for safety in a boat to another part of the island, and later selling him a sloop, let him sail away to join the French buccaneers in Hispaniola.[433] The Danish governor of St. Thomas, whose name was Adolf Esmit, had formerly been himself a privateer, and had used his popularity on the island to eject from authority his brother Nicholas Esmit, the lawful governor. By protecting and encouraging pirates--for a consideration, of course--he proved a bad neighbour to the surrounding English islands. Although he had but 300 or 350 people on St. Thomas, and most of these British subjects, he laid claim to all the Virgin Islands, harboured runaway servants, seamen and debtors, fitted out pirate vessels with arms and provisions, and refused to restore captured ships and crews which the pirates brought into his port.[434] The King of Denmark had sent out a new governor, named Everson, to dispossess Esmit, but he did not arrive in the West Indies until October 1684, when with the assistance of an armed sloop which Sir William Stapleton had been ordered by the English Council to lend him, he took possession of St. Thomas and its pirate governor.[435] A second difficulty encountered by Sir Thomas Lynch, in the first year of his return, was the privateering activity of Robert Clarke, Governor of New Providence, one of the Bahama Islands. Governor Clarke, on the plea of retaliating Spanish outrages, gave letters of marque to several privateers, including Coxon, the same famous chief who in 1680 had led the buccaneers into the South Seas. Coxon carried his commission to Jamaica and showed it to Governor Lynch, who was greatly incensed and wrote to Clarke a vigorous note of reproof.[436] To grant such letters of marque was, of course, contrary to the Treaty of Madrid, and by giving the pirates only another excuse for their actions, greatly complicated the task of the Governor of Jamaica. Lynch forwarded Coxon's commission to England, where in August 1682 the proprietors of the Bahama Islands were ordered to attend the council and answer for the misdeeds of their governor.[437] The proprietors, however, had already acted on their own initiative, for on 29th July they issued instructions to a new governor, Robert Lilburne, to arrest Clarke and keep him in custody till he should give security to answer accusations in England, and to recall all commissions against the Spaniards.[438] The whole trouble, it seems, had arisen over the wreck of a Spanish galleon in the Bahamas, to which Spaniards from St. Augustine and Havana were accustomed to resort to fish for ingots of silver, and from which they had been driven away by the governor and inhabitants of New Providence. The Spaniards had retaliated by robbing vessels sailing to and from the Bahamas, whereupon Clarke, without considering the illegality of his action, had issued commissions of war to privateers. The Bahamas, however, were a favourite resort for pirates and other men of desperate character, and Lilburne soon discovered that his place was no sinecure. He found it difficult moreover to refrain from hostilities against a neighbour who used every opportunity to harm and plunder his colony. In March 1683, a former privateer named Thomas Pain[439] had entered into a conspiracy with four other captains, who were then fishing for silver at the wreck, to seize St. Augustine in Florida. They landed before the city under French colours, but finding the Spaniards prepared for them, gave up the project and looted some small neighbouring settlements. On the return of Pain and two others to New Providence, Governor Lilburne tried to apprehend them, but he failed for lack of means to enforce his authority. The Spaniards, however, were not slow to take their revenge. In the following January they sent 250 men from Havana, who in the early morning surprised and plundered the town and shipping at New Providence, killed three men, and carried away money and provisions to the value of £14,000.[440] When Lilburne in February sent to ask the Governor of Havana whether the plunderers had acted under his orders, the Spaniard not only acknowledged it but threatened further hostilities against the English settlement. Indeed, later in the same year the Spaniards returned, this time, it seems, without a commission, and according to report burnt all the houses, murdered the governor in cold blood, and carried many of the women, children and negroes to Havana.[441] About 200 of the inhabitants made their way to Jamaica, and a number of the men, thirsting for vengeance, joined the English pirates in the Carolinas.[442] In French Hispaniola corsairing had been forbidden for several years, yet the French governor found the problem of suppressing the evil even more difficult than it was in Jamaica. M. de Pouançay, the successor of d'Ogeron, died toward the end of 1682 or the beginning of 1683, and in spite of his efforts to establish order in the colony he left it in a deplorable condition. The old fraternity of hunters or cow-killers had almost disappeared; but the corsairs and the planters were strongly united, and galled by the oppression of the West India Company, displayed their strength in a spirit of indocility which caused great embarrassment to the governor. Although in time of peace the freebooters kept the French settlements in continual danger of ruin by reprisal, in time of war they were the mainstay of the colony. As the governor, therefore, was dependent upon them for protection against the English, Spanish and Dutch, although he withdrew their commissions he dared not punish them for their crimes. The French buccaneers, indeed, occupied a curious and anomalous position. They were not ordinary privateers, for they waged war without authority; and they were still less pirates, for they had never been declared outlaws, and they confined their attentions to the Spaniards. They served under conditions which they themselves imposed, or which they deigned to accept, and were always ready to turn against the representatives of authority if they believed they had aught of which to complain.[443] The buccaneers almost invariably carried commissions from the governors of French Hispaniola, but they did not scruple to alter the wording of their papers, so that a permission to privateer for three months was easily transformed into a licence to plunder for three years. These papers, moreover, were passed about from one corsair to another, until long after the occasion for their issue had ceased to exist. Thus in May or June of 1680, de Grammont, on the strength of an old commission granted him by de Pouançay before the treaty of Nimuegen, had made a brilliant night assault upon La Guayra, the seaport of Caracas. Of his 180 followers only forty-seven took part in the actual seizure of the town, which was amply protected by two forts and by cannon upon the walls. On the following day, however, he received word that 2000 men were approaching from Caracas, and as the enemy were also rallying in force in the vicinity of the town he was compelled to retire to the ships. This movement was executed with difficulty, and for two hours de Grammont with a handful of his bravest companions covered the embarkation from the assaults of the Spaniards. Although he himself was dangerously wounded in the throat, he lost only eight or nine men in the whole action. He carried away with him the Governor of La Guayra and many other prisoners, but the booty was small. De Grammont retired to the Isle d'Aves to nurse his wound, and after a long convalescence returned to Petit Goave.[444] In 1683, however, these filibusters of Hispaniola carried out a much larger design upon the coasts of New Spain. In April of that year eight buccaneer captains made a rendezvous in the Gulf of Honduras for the purpose of attacking Vera Cruz. The leaders of the party were two Dutchmen named Vanhorn and Laurens de Graff. Of the other six captains, three were Dutch, one was French, and two were English. Vanhorn himself had sailed from England in the autumn of 1681 in command of a merchant ship called the "Mary and Martha," _alias_ the "St. Nicholas." He soon, however, revealed the rogue he was by turning two of his merchants ashore at Cadiz and stealing four Spanish guns. He then sailed to the Canaries and to the coast of Guinea, plundering ships and stealing negroes, and finally, in November 1682, arrived at the city of San Domingo, where he tried to dispose of his black cargo. From San Domingo he made for Petit Goave picked up 300 men, and sailed to join Laurens in the Gulf of Honduras.[445] Laurens, too, had distinguished himself but a short time before by capturing a Spanish ship bound from Havana for San Domingo and Porto Rico with about 120,000 pieces of eight to pay off the soldiers. The freebooters had shared 700 pieces of eight per man, and carrying their prize to Petit Goave had compounded with the French governor for a part of the booty.[446] The buccaneers assembled near Cape Catoche to the number of about 1000 men, and sailed in the middle of May for Vera Cruz. Learning from some prisoners that the Spaniards on shore were expecting two ships from Caracas, they crowded the landing party of about 800 upon two of their vessels, displayed the Spanish colours, and stood in for the city. The unfortunate inhabitants mistook them for their own people, and even lighted fires to pilot them in. The pirates landed at midnight on 17th May about two miles from the town, and by daybreak had possession of the city and its forts. They found the soldiers and sentinels asleep, and "all the people in the houses as quiet and still as if in their graves." For four days they held the place, plundering the churches, houses and convents; and not finding enough plate and jewels to meet their expectations, they threatened to burn the cathedral and all the prisoners within it, unless a ransom was brought in from the surrounding country. The governor, Don Luis de Cordova, was on the third day discovered by an Englishman hidden in the hay in a stable, and was ransomed for 70,000 pieces of eight. Meanwhile the Spanish Flota of twelve or fourteen ships from Cadiz had for two days been lying outside the harbour and within sight of the city; yet it did not venture to land or to attack the empty buccaneer vessels. The proximity of such an armament, however, made the freebooters uneasy, especially as the Spanish viceroy was approaching with an army from the direction of Mexico. On the fourth day, therefore, they sailed away in the very face of the Flota to a neighbouring cay, where they divided the pillage into a thousand or more shares of 800 pieces of eight each. Vanhorn alone is said to have received thirty shares for himself and his two ships. He and Laurens, who had never been on good terms, quarrelled and fought over the division, and Vanhorn was wounded in the wrist. The wound seemed very slight, however, and he proposed to return and attack the Spanish fleet, offering to board the "Admiral" himself; but Laurens refused, and the buccaneers sailed away, carrying with them over 1000 slaves. The invaders, according to report, had lost but four men in the action. About a fortnight later Vanhorn died of gangrene in his wound, and de Grammont, who was then acting as his lieutenant, carried his ship back to Petit Goave, where Laurens and most of the other captains had already arrived.[447] The Mexican fleet, which returned to Cadiz on 18th December, was only half its usual size because of the lack of a market after the visit of the corsairs; and the Governor of Vera Cruz was sentenced to lose his head for his remissness in defending the city.[448] The Spanish ambassador in London, Ronquillo, requested Charles II. to command Sir Thomas Lynch to co-operate with a commissioner whom the Spanish Government was sending to the West Indies to inquire into this latest outrage of the buccaneers, and such orders were dispatched to Lynch in April 1684.[449] M. de Cussy, who had been appointed by the French King to succeed his former colleague, de Pouançay, arrived at Petit Goave in April 1684, and found the buccaneers on the point of open revolt because of the efforts of de Franquesnay, the temporary governor, to enforce the strict orders from France for their suppression.[450] De Cussy visited all parts of the colony, and by tact, patience and politic concessions succeeded in restoring order. He knew that in spite of the instructions from France, so long as he was surrounded by jealous neighbours, and so long as the peace in Europe remained precarious, the safety of French Hispaniola depended on his retaining the presence and good-will of the sea-rovers; and when de Grammont and several other captains demanded commissions against the Spaniards, the governor finally consented on condition that they persuade all the freebooters driven away by de Franquesnay to return to the colony. Two commissioners, named Begon and St. Laurent, arrived in August 1684 to aid him in reforming this dissolute society, but they soon came to the same conclusions as the governor, and sent a memoir to the French King advising less severe measures. The king did not agree with their suggestion of compromise, and de Cussy, compelled to deal harshly with the buccaneers, found his task by no means an easy one.[451] Meanwhile, however, many of the freebooters, seeing the determined attitude of the established authorities, decided to transfer their activities to the Pacific coasts of America, where they would be safe from interference on the part of the English or French Governments. The expedition of Harris, Coxon, Sharp and their associates across the isthmus in 1680 had kindled the imaginations of the buccaneers with the possibilities of greater plunder and adventure in these more distant regions. Other parties, both English and French, speedily followed in their tracks, and after 1683 it became the prevailing practice for buccaneers to make an excursion into the South Seas. The Darien Indians and their fiercer neighbours, the natives of the Mosquito Coast, who were usually at enmity with the Spaniards, allied themselves with the freebooters, and the latter, in their painful marches through the dense tropical wilderness of these regions, often owed it to the timely aid and friendly offices of the natives that they finally succeeded in reaching their goal. In the summer of 1685, a year after the arrival of de Cussy in Hispaniola, de Grammont and Laurens de Graff united their forces again at the Isle la Vache, and in spite of the efforts of the governor to persuade them to renounce their project, sailed with 1100 men for the coasts of Campeache. An attempt on Merida was frustrated by the Spaniards, but Campeache itself was occupied after a feeble resistance, and remained in possession of the French for six weeks. After reducing the city to ashes and blowing up the fortress, the invaders retired to Hispaniola.[452] According to Charlevoix, before the buccaneers sailed away they celebrated the festival of St. Louis by a huge bonfire in honour of the king, in which they burnt logwood to the value of 200,000 crowns, representing the greater part of their booty. The Spaniards of Hispaniola, who kept up a constant desultory warfare with their French neighbours, were incited by the ravages of the buccaneers in the South Seas, and by the sack of Vera Cruz and Campeache, to renewed hostilities; and de Cussy, anxious to attach to himself so enterprising and daring a leader as de Grammont, obtained for him, in September 1686, the commission of "Lieutenant de Roi" of the coast of San Domingo. Grammont, however, on learning of his new honour, wished to have a last fling at the Spaniards before he settled down to respectability. He armed a ship, sailed away with 180 men, and was never heard of again.[453] At the same time Laurens de Graff was given the title of "Major," and he lived to take an active part in the war against the English between 1689 and 1697.[454] These semi-pirates, whom the French governor dared not openly support yet feared to disavow, were a constant source of trouble to the Governor of Jamaica. They did not scruple to attack English traders and fishing sloops, and when pursued took refuge in Petit Goave, the port in the _cul-de-sac_ at the west end of Hispaniola which had long been a sanctuary of the freebooters, and which paid little respect to the authority of the royal governor.[455] In Jamaica they believed that the corsairs acted under regular commissions from the French authorities, and Sir Thomas Lynch sent repeated complaints to de Pouançay and to his successor. He also wrote to England begging the Council to ascertain from the French ambassador whether these governors had authority to issue commissions of war, so that his frigates might be able to distinguish between the pirate and the lawful privateer.[456] Except at Petit Goave, however, the French were really desirous of preserving peace with Jamaica, and did what they could to satisfy the demands of the English without unduly irritating the buccaneers. They were in the same position as Lynch in 1671, who, while anxious to do justice to the Spaniards, dared not immediately alienate the freebooters who plundered them, and who might, if driven away, turn their arms against Jamaica. Vanhorn himself, it seems, when he left Hispaniola to join Laurens in the Gulf of Honduras, had been sent out by de Pouançay really to pursue "La Trompeuse" and other pirates, and his lieutenant, de Grammont, delivered letters to Governor Lynch to that effect; but once out of sight he steered directly for Central America, where he anticipated a more profitable game than pirate-hunting.[457] On the 24th of August 1684 Sir Thomas Lynch died in Jamaica, and Colonel Hender Molesworth, by virtue of his commission as lieutenant-governor, assumed the authority.[458] Sir Henry Morgan, who had remained lieutenant-governor when Lynch returned to Jamaica, had afterwards been suspended from the council and from all other public employments on charges of drunkenness, disorder, and encouraging disloyalty to the government. His brother-in-law, Byndloss, was dismissed for similar reasons, and Roger Elletson, who belonged to the same faction, was removed from his office as attorney-general of the island. Lynch had had the support of both the assembly and the council, and his actions were at once confirmed in England.[459] The governor, however, although he had enjoyed the confidence of most of the inhabitants, who looked upon him as the saviour of the island, left behind in the persons of Morgan, Elletson and their roystering companions, a group of implacable enemies, who did all in their power to vilify his memory to the authorities in England. Several of these men, with Elletson at their head, accused the dead governor of embezzling piratical goods which had been confiscated to the use of the king; but when inquiry was made by Lieutenant-Governor Molesworth, the charges fell to the ground. Elletson's information was found to be second-hand and defective, and Lynch's name was more than vindicated. Indeed, the governor at his death had so little ready means that his widow was compelled to borrow £500 to pay for his funeral.[460] The last years of Sir Thomas Lynch's life had been troublous ones. Not only had the peace of the island been disturbed by "La Trompeuse" and other French corsairs which hovered about Hispaniola; not only had his days been embittered by strife with a small, drunken, insolent faction which tried to belittle his attempts to introduce order and sobriety into the colony; but the hostility of the Spanish governors in the West Indies still continued to neutralize his efforts to root out buccaneering. Lynch had in reality been the best friend of the Spaniards in America. He had strictly forbidden the cutting of logwood in Campeache and Honduras, when the Spaniards were outraging and enslaving every Englishman they found upon those coasts;[461] he had sent word to the Spanish governors of the intended sack of Vera Cruz;[462] he had protected Spanish merchant ships with his own men-of-war and hospitably received them in Jamaican ports. Yet Spanish corsairs continued to rob English vessels, and Spanish governors refused to surrender English ships and goods which were carried into their ports.[463] On the plea of punishing interlopers they armed small galleys and ordered them to take all ships which had on board any products of the Indies.[464] Letters to the governors at Havana and St. Jago de Cuba were of no avail. English trade routes were interrupted and dangerous, the turtling, trading and fishing sloops, which supplied a great part of the food of Jamaica, were robbed and seized, and Lynch was compelled to construct a galley of fifty oars for their protection.[465] Pirates, it is true, were frequently brought into Port Royal by the small frigates employed by the governor, and there were numerous executions;[466] yet the outlaws seemed to increase daily. Some black vessel was generally found hovering about the island ready to pick up any who wished to join it, and when the runaways were prevented from returning by the statute against piracy, they retired to the Carolinas or to New England to dispose of their loot and refit their ships.[467] When such retreats were available the laws against piracy did not reduce buccaneering so much as they depopulated Jamaica of its white inhabitants. After 1680, indeed, the North American colonies became more and more the resort of the pirates who were being driven from West Indian waters by the stern measures of the English governors. Michel Landresson, _alias_ Breha, who had accompanied Pain in his expedition against St. Augustine in 1683, and who had been a constant source of worriment to the Jamaicans because of his attacks on the fishing sloops, sailed to Boston and disposed of his booty of gold, silver, jewels and cocoa to the godly New England merchants, who were only too ready to take advantage of so profitable a trade and gladly fitted him out for another cruise.[468] Pain himself appeared in Rhode Island, displayed the old commission to hunt for pirates given him by Sir Thomas Lynch, and was protected by the governor against the deputy-collector of customs, who endeavoured to seize him and his ship.[469] The chief resort of the pirates, however, was the colony of Carolina. Indented by numerous harbours and inlets, the shores of Carolina had always afforded a safe refuge for refitting and repairing after a cruise, and from 1670 onwards, when the region began to be settled by colonists from England, the pirates found in the new communities a second Jamaica, where they could sell their cargoes and often recruit their forces. In the latter part of 1683 Sir Thomas Lynch complained to the Lords of the Committee for Trade and Plantations;[470] and in February of the following year the king, at the suggestion of the committee, ordered that a draft of the Jamaican law against pirates be sent to all the plantations in America, to be passed and enforced in each as a statute of the province.[471] On 12th March 1684 a general proclamation was issued by the king against pirates in America, and a copy forwarded to all the colonial governors for publication and execution.[472] Nevertheless in Massachusetts, in spite of these measures and of a letter from the king warning the governors to give no succour or aid to any of the outlaws, Michel had been received with open arms, the proclamation of 12th March was torn down in the streets, and the Jamaica Act, though passed, was never enforced.[473] In the Carolinas, although the Lords Proprietors wrote urging the governors to take every care that no pirates were entertained in the colony, the Act was not passed until November 1685.[474] There were few, if any, convictions, and the freebooters plied their trade with the same security as before. Toward the end of 1686 three galleys from St. Augustine landed about 150 men, Spaniards, Indians and mulattos, a few leagues below Charleston, and laid waste several plantations, including that of Governor Moreton. The enemy pushed on to Port Royal, completely destroyed the Scotch colony there, and retired before a force could be raised to oppose them. To avenge this inroad the inhabitants immediately began preparations for a descent upon St. Augustine; and an expedition consisting of two French privateering vessels and about 500 men was organized and about to sail, when a new governor, James Colleton, arrived and ordered it to disband.[475] Colleton was instructed to arrest Governor Moreton on the charge of encouraging piracy, and to punish those who entertained and abetted the freebooters;[476] and on 12th February 1687 he had a new and more explicit law to suppress the evil enacted by the assembly.[477] On 22nd May of the same year James II. renewed the proclamation for the suppression of pirates, and offered pardon to all who surrendered within a limited time and gave security for future good behaviour.[478] The situation was so serious, however, that in August the king commissioned Sir Robert Holmes to proceed with a squadron to the West Indies and make short work of the outlaws;[479] and in October he issued a circular to all the governors in the colonies, directing the most stringent enforcement of the laws, "a practice having grown up of bringing pirates to trial before the evidence was ready, and of using other evasions to insure their acquittal."[480] On the following 20th January another proclamation was issued by James to insure the co-operation of the governors with Sir Robert Holmes and his agents.[481] The problem, however, was more difficult than the king had anticipated. The presence of the fleet upon the coast stopped the evil for a time, but a few years later, especially in the Carolinas under the administration of Governor Ludwell (1691-1693), the pirates again increased in numbers and in boldness, and Charleston was completely overrun with the freebooters, who, with the connivance of the merchants and a free display of gold, set the law at defiance. In Jamaica Lieutenant-Governor Molesworth continued in the policy and spirit of his predecessor. He sent a frigate to the Bay of Darien to visit Golden Isle and the Isle of Pines (where the buccaneers were accustomed to make their rendezvous when they crossed over to the South Seas), with orders to destroy any piratical craft in that vicinity, and he made every exertion to prevent recruits from leaving Jamaica.[482] The stragglers who returned from the South Seas he arrested and executed, and he dealt severely with those who received and entertained them.[483] By virtue of the king's proclamation of 1684, he had the property in Port Royal belonging to men then in the South Seas forfeited to the crown.[484] A Captain Bannister, who in June 1684 had run away from Port Royal on a privateering venture with a ship of thirty guns, had been caught and brought back by the frigate "Ruby," but when put on trial for piracy was released by the grand jury on a technicality. Six months later Bannister managed to elude the forts a second time, and for two years kept dodging the frigates which Molesworth sent in pursuit of him. Finally, in January 1687, Captain Spragge sailed into Port Royal with the buccaneer and three of his companions hanging at the yard-arms, "a spectacle of great satisfaction to all good people, and of terror to the favourers of pirates."[485] It was during the government of Molesworth that the "Biscayners" began to appear in American waters. These privateers from the Bay of Biscay seem to have been taken into the King of Spain's service to hunt pirates, but they interrupted English trade more than the pirates did. They captured and plundered English merchantmen right and left, and carried them to Cartagena, Vera Cruz, San Domingo and other Spanish ports, where the governors took charge of their prisoners and allowed them to dispose of their captured goods. They held their commissions, it seems, directly from the Crown, and so pretended to be outside the pale of the authority of the Spanish governors. The latter, at any rate, declared that they could give no redress, and themselves complained to the authorities in Jamaica of the independence of these marauders.[486] In December 1688 the king issued a warrant to the Governor of Jamaica authorizing him to suppress the Biscayans with the royal frigates.[487] On 28th October 1685 the governorship of the island was assigned to Sir Philip Howard,[488] but Howard died shortly after, and the Duke of Albemarle was appointed in his stead.[489] Albemarle, who arrived at Port Royal in December 1687,[490] completely reversed the policy of his predecessors, Lynch and Molesworth. Even before he left England he had undermined his health by his intemperate habits, and when he came to Jamaica he leagued himself with the most unruly and debauched men in the colony. He seems to have had no object but to increase his fortune at the expense of the island. Before he sailed he had boldly petitioned for powers to dispose of money without the advice and consent of his council, and, if he saw fit, to reinstate into office Sir Henry Morgan and Robert Byndloss. The king, however, decided that the suspension of Morgan and Byndloss should remain until Albemarle had reported on their case from Jamaica.[491] When the Duke entered upon his new government, he immediately appointed Roger Elletson to be Chief Justice of the island in the place of Samuel Bernard. Three assistant-judges of the Supreme Court thereupon resigned their positions on the bench, and one was, in revenge, dismissed by the governor from the council. Several other councillors were also suspended, contrary to the governor's instructions against arbitrary dismissal of such officers, and on 18th January 1688 Sir Henry Morgan, upon the king's approval of the Duke's recommendation, was re-admitted to the council-chamber.[492] The old buccaneer, however, did not long enjoy his restored dignity. About a month later he succumbed to a sharp illness, and on 26th August was buried in St. Catherine's Church in Port Royal.[493] In November 1688 a petition was presented to the king by the planters and merchants trading to Jamaica protesting against the new régime introduced by Lord Albemarle:--"The once flourishing island of Jamaica is likely to be utterly undone by the irregularities of some needy persons lately set in power. Many of the most considerable inhabitants are deserting it, others are under severe fines and imprisonments from little or no cause.... The provost-marshal has been dismissed and an indebted person put in his place; and all the most substantial officers, civil and military, have been turned out and necessitous persons set up in their room. The like has been done in the judicial offices, whereby the benefit of appeals and prohibitions is rendered useless. Councillors are suspended without royal order and without a hearing. Several persons have been forced to give security not to leave the island lest they should seek redress; others have been brought before the council for trifling offences and innumerable fees taken from them; money has been raised twenty per cent. over its value to defend creditors. Lastly, the elections have been tampered with by the indebted provost-marshal, and since the Duke of Albemarle's death are continued without your royal authority."[494] The death of Albemarle, indeed, at this opportune time was the greatest service he rendered to the colony. Molesworth was immediately commanded to return to Jamaica and resume authority. The duke's system was entirely reversed, and the government restored as it had been under the administration of Sir Thomas Lynch. Elletson was removed from the council and from his position as chief justice, and Bernard returned in his former place. All of the rest of Albemarle's creatures were dismissed from their posts, and the supporters of Lynch's régime again put in control of a majority in the council.[495] This measure of plain justice was one of the last acts of James II. as King of England. On 5th November 1688 William of Orange landed in England at Torbay, and on 22nd December James escaped to France to live as a pensioner of Louis XIV. The new king almost immediately wrote to Jamaica confirming the reappointment of Molesworth, and a commission to the latter was issued on 25th July 1689.[496] Molesworth, unfortunately for the colony, died within a few days,[497] and the Earl of Inchiquin was appointed on 19th September to succeed him.[498] Sir Francis Watson, President of the Council in Jamaica, obeyed the instructions of William III., although he was a partizan of Albemarle; yet so high was the feeling between the two factions that the greatest confusion reigned in the government of the island until the arrival of Inchiquin in May 1690.[499] The Revolution of 1688, by placing William of Orange on the English throne, added a powerful kingdom to the European coalition which in 1689 attacked Louis XIV. over the question of the succession of the Palatinate. That James II. should accept the hospitality of the French monarch and use France as a basis for attack on England and Ireland was, quite apart from William's sympathy with the Protestants on the Continent, sufficient cause for hostilities against France. War broke out in May 1689, and was soon reflected in the English and French colonies in the West Indies. De Cussy, in Hispaniola, led an expedition of 1000 men, many of them filibusters, against St. Jago de los Cavalleros in the interior of the island, and took and burnt the town. In revenge the Spaniards, supported by an English fleet which had just driven the French from St. Kitts, appeared in January 1691 before Cap François, defeated and killed de Cussy in an engagement near the town, and burned and sacked the settlement. Three hundred French filibusters were killed in the battle. The English fleet visited Leogane and Petit Goave in the _cul-de-sac_ of Hispaniola, and then sailed to Jamaica. De Cussy before his death had seized the opportunity to provide the freebooters with new commissions for privateering, and English shipping suffered severely.[500] Laurens with 200 men touched at Montego Bay on the north coast in October, and threatened to return and plunder the whole north side of the island. The people were so frightened that they sent their wives and children to Port Royal; and the council armed several vessels to go in pursuit of the Frenchmen.[501] It was a new experience to feel the danger of invasion by a foreign foe. The Jamaicans had an insight into the terror which their Spanish neighbours felt for the buccaneers, whom the English islanders had always been so ready to fit out, or to shield from the arm of the law. Laurens in the meantime was as good as his word. He returned to Jamaica in the beginning of December with several vessels, seized eight or ten English trading sloops, landed on the north shore and plundered a plantation.[502] War with France was formally proclaimed in Jamaica on the 13th of January 1690.[503] Two years later, in January 1692, Lord Inchiquin also succumbed to disease in Jamaica, and in the following June Colonel William Beeston was chosen by the queen to act as lieutenant-governor.[504] Inchiquin before he left England had solicited for the power to call in and pardon pirates, so as to strengthen the island during the war by adding to its forces men who would make good fighters on both land and sea. The Committee on Trade and Plantations reported favourably on the proposal, but the power seems never to have been granted.[505] In January 1692, however, the President of the Council of Jamaica began to issue commissions to privateers, and in a few months the surrounding seas were full of armed Jamaican sloops.[506] On 7th June of the same year the colony suffered a disaster which almost proved its destruction. A terrible earthquake overwhelmed Port Royal and "in ten minutes threw down all the churches, dwelling-houses and sugar-works in the island. Two-thirds of Port Royal were swallowed up by the sea, all the forts and fortifications demolished and great part of its inhabitants miserably knocked on the head or drowned."[507] The French in Hispaniola took advantage of the distress caused by the earthquake to invade the island, and nearly every week hostile bands landed and plundered the coast of negroes and other property.[508] In December 1693 a party of 170 swooped down in the night upon St. Davids, only seven leagues from Port Royal, plundered the whole parish, and got away again with 370 slaves.[509] In the following April Ducasse, the new French governor of Hispaniola, sent 400 buccaneers in six small vessels to repeat the exploit, but the marauders met an English man-of-war guarding the coast, and concluding "that they would only get broken bones and spoil their men for any other design," they retired whence they had come.[510] Two months later, however, a much more serious incursion was made. An expedition of twenty-two vessels and 1500 men, recruited in France and instigated, it is said, by Irish and Jacobite refugees, set sail under Ducasse on 8th June with the intention of conquering the whole of Jamaica. The French landed at Point Morant and Cow Bay, and for a month cruelly desolated the whole south-eastern portion of the island. Then coasting along the southern shore they made a feint on Port Royal, and landed in Carlisle Bay to the west of the capital. After driving from their breastworks the English force of 250 men, they again fell to ravaging and burning, but finding they could make no headway against the Jamaican militia, who were now increased to 700 men, in the latter part of July they set sail with their plunder for Hispaniola.[511] Jamaica had been denuded of men by the earthquake and by sickness, and Lieutenant-Governor Beeston had wisely abandoned the forts in the east of the island and concentrated all his strength at Port Royal.[512] It was this expedient which doubtless saved the island from capture, for Ducasse feared to attack the united Jamaican forces behind strong intrenchments. The harm done to Jamaica by the invasion, however, was very great. The French wholly destroyed fifty sugar works and many plantations, burnt and plundered about 200 houses, and killed every living thing they found. Thirteen hundred negroes were carried off besides other spoil. In fighting the Jamaicans lost about 100 killed and wounded, but the loss of the French seems to have been several times that number. After the French returned home Ducasse reserved all the negroes for himself, and many of the freebooters who had taken part in the expedition, exasperated by such a division of the spoil, deserted the governor and resorted to buccaneering on their own account.[513] Colonel, now become Sir William, Beeston, from his first arrival in Jamaica as lieutenant-governor, had fixed his hopes upon a joint expedition with the Spaniards against the French at Petit Goave; but the inertia of the Spaniards, and the loss of men and money caused by the earthquake, had prevented his plans from being realized.[514] In the early part of 1695, however, an army of 1700 soldiers on a fleet of twenty-three ships sailed from England under command of Commodore Wilmot for the West Indies. Uniting with 1500 Spaniards from San Domingo and the Barlovento fleet of three sail, they captured and sacked Cap François and Port de Paix in the French end of the island. It had been the intention of the allies to proceed to the _cul-de-sac_ and destroy Petit Goave and Leogane, but they had lost many men by sickness and bad management, and the Spaniards, satisfied with the booty already obtained, were anxious to return home. So the English fleet sailed away to Port Royal.[515] These hostilities so exhausted both the French in Hispaniola and the English in Jamaica that for a time the combatants lay back to recover their strength. The last great expedition of this war in the West Indies serves as a fitting close to the history of the buccaneers. On 26th September 1696 Ducasse received from the French Minister of Marine, Pontchartrain, a letter informing him that the king had agreed to the project of a large armament which the Sieur de Pointis, aided by private capital, was preparing for an enterprise in the Mexican Gulf.[516] Ducasse, although six years earlier he had written home urging just such an enterprise against Vera Cruz or Cartagena, now expressed his strong disapproval of the project, and dwelt rather on the advantages to be gained by the capture of Spanish Hispaniola, a conquest which would give the French the key to the Indies. A second letter from Pontchartrain in January 1697, however, ordered him to aid de Pointis by uniting all the freebooters and keeping them in the colony till 15th February. It was a difficult task to maintain the buccaneers in idleness for two months and prohibit all cruising, especially as de Pointis, who sailed from Brest in the beginning of January, did not reach Petit Goave till about 1st March.[517] The buccaneers murmured and threatened to disband, and it required all the personal ascendancy of Ducasse to hold them together. The Sieur de Pointis, although a man of experience and resource, capable of forming a large design and sparing nothing to its success, suffered from two very common faults--vanity and avarice. He sometimes allowed the sense of his own merits to blind him to the merits of others, and considerations of self-interest to dim the brilliance of his achievements. Of Ducasse he was insanely jealous, and during the whole expedition he tried in every way to humiliate him. Unable to bring himself to conciliate the unruly spirit of the buccaneers, he told them plainly that he would lead them not as a companion in fortune but as a military superior, and that they must submit themselves to the same rules as the men on the king's ships. The freebooters rebelled under the haughtiness of their commander, and only Ducasse's influence was able to bring them to obedience.[518] On 18th March the ships were all gathered at the rendezvous at Cape Tiburon, and on the 13th of the following month anchored two leagues to the east of Cartagena.[519] De Pointis had under his command about 4000 men, half of them seamen, the rest soldiers. The reinforcements he had received from Ducasse numbered 1100, and of these 650 were buccaneers commanded by Ducasse himself. He had nine frigates, besides seven vessels belonging to the buccaneers, and numerous smaller boats.[520] The appearance of so formidable an armament in the West Indies caused a great deal of concern both in England and in Jamaica. Martial law was proclaimed in the colony and every means taken to put Port Royal in a state of defence.[521] Governor Beeston, at the first news of de Pointis' fleet, sent advice to the governors of Porto Bello and Havana, against whom he suspected that the expedition was intended.[522] A squadron of thirteen vessels was sent out from England under command of Admiral Nevill to protect the British islands and the Spanish treasure fleets, for both the galleons and the Flota were then in the Indies.[523] Nevill touched at Barbadoes on 17th April,[524] and then sailed up through the Leeward Islands towards Hispaniola in search of de Pointis. The Frenchman, however, had eluded him and was already before Cartagena. Cartagena, situated at the eastward end of a large double lagoon, was perhaps the strongest fortress in the Indies, and the Spaniards within opposed a courageous defence.[525] After a fortnight of fighting and bombardment, however, on the last day of April the outworks were carried by a brilliant assault, and on 6th May the small Spanish garrison, followed by the _Cabildo_ or municipal corporation, and by many of the citizens of the town, in all about 2800 persons, marched out with the honours of war. Although the Spaniards had been warned of the coming of the French, and before their arrival had succeeded in withdrawing the women and some of their riches to Mompos in the interior, the treasure which fell into the hands of the invaders was enormous, and has been variously estimated at from six million crowns to twenty millions sterling. Trouble soon broke out between de Pointis and the buccaneers, for the latter wanted the whole of the plunder to be divided equally among the men, as had always been their custom, and they expected, according to this arrangement, says de Pointis in his narrative, about a quarter of all the booty. De Pointis, however, insisted upon the order which he had published before the expedition sailed from Petit Goave, that the buccaneers should be subject to the same rule in the division of the spoil as the sailors in the fleet, i.e., they should receive one-tenth of the first million and one-thirtieth of the rest. Moreover, fearing that the buccaneers would take matters into their own hands, he had excluded them from the city while his officers gathered the plunder and carried it to the ships. On the repeated remonstrances of Ducasse, de Pointis finally announced that the share allotted to the men from Hispaniola was 40,000 crowns. The buccaneers, finding themselves so miserably cheated, broke out into open mutiny, but were restrained by the influence of their leader and the presence of the king's frigates. De Pointis, meanwhile, seeing his own men decimated by sickness, put all the captured guns on board the fleet and made haste to get under sail for France. South of Jamaica he fell in with the squadron of Admiral Nevill, to which in the meantime had been joined some eight Dutch men-of-war; but de Pointis, although inferior in numbers, outsailed the English ships and lost but one or two of his smaller vessels. He then man[oe]uvred past Cape S. Antonio, round the north of Cuba and through the Bahama Channel to Newfoundland, where he stopped for fresh wood and water, and after a brush with a small English squadron under Commodore Norris, sailed into the harbour of Brest on 19th August 1697.[526] The buccaneers, even before de Pointis sailed for France, had turned their ships back toward Cartagena to reimburse themselves by again plundering the city. De Pointis, indeed, was then very ill, and his officers were in no condition to oppose them. After the fleet had departed the freebooters re-entered Cartagena, and for four days put it to the sack, extorting from the unfortunate citizens, and from the churches and monasteries, several million more in gold and silver. Embarking for the Isle la Vache, they had covered but thirty leagues when they met with the same allied fleet which had pursued de Pointis. Of the nine buccaneer vessels, the two which carried most of the booty were captured, two more were driven ashore, and the rest succeeded in escaping to Hispaniola. Ducasse, who had returned to Petit Goave when de Pointis sailed for France, sent one of his lieutenants on a mission to the French Court to complain of the ill-treatment he had received from de Pointis, and to demand his own recall; but the king pacified him by making him a Chevalier of St. Louis, and allotting 1,400,000 francs to the French colonists who had aided in the expedition. The money, however, was slow in reaching the hands of those to whom it was due, and much was lost through the malversations of the men charged with its distribution.[527] * * * * * With the capture of Cartagena in 1697 the history of the buccaneers may be said to end. More and more during the previous twenty years they had degenerated into mere pirates, or had left their libertine life for more civilised pursuits. Since 1671 the English government had been consistent in its policy of suppressing the freebooters, and with few exceptions the governors sent to Jamaica had done their best to uphold and enforce the will of the councils at home. Ten years or more had to elapse before the French Court saw the situation in a similar light, and even then the exigencies of war and defence in French Hispaniola prevented the governors from taking any effective measures toward suppression. The problem, indeed, had not been an easy one. The buccaneers, whatever their origin, were intrepid men, not without a sense of honour among themselves, wedded to a life of constant danger which they met and overcame with surprising hardiness. When an expedition was projected against their traditional foes, the Spaniards, they calculated the chances of profit, and taking little account of the perils to be run, or indeed of the flag under which they sailed, English, French and Dutch alike became brothers under a chief whose courage they perfectly recognised and whom they servilely obeyed. They lived at a time when they were in no danger of being overhauled by ubiquitous cruisers with rifled guns, and so long as they confined themselves to His Catholic Majesty's ships and settlements, they had trusted in the immunity arising from the traditional hostility existing between the English and the Spaniards of that era. And for the Spaniards the record of the buccaneers had been a terrible one. Between the years 1655 and 1671 alone, the corsairs had sacked eighteen cities, four towns and more than thirty-five villages--Cumana once, Cumanagote twice, Maracaibo and Gibraltar twice, Rio de la Hacha five times, Santa Marta three times, Tolu eight times, Porto Bello once, Chagre twice, Panama once, Santa Catalina twice, Granada in Nicaragua twice, Campeache three times, St. Jago de Cuba once, and other towns and villages in Cuba and Hispaniola for thirty leagues inland innumerable times. And this fearful tale of robbery and outrage does not embrace the various expeditions against Porto Bello, Campeache, Cartagena and other Spanish ports made after 1670. The Marquis de Barinas in 1685 estimated the losses of the Spaniards at the hands of the buccaneers since the accession of Charles II. to be sixty million crowns; and these figures covered merely the destruction of towns and treasure, without including the loss of more than 250 merchant ships and frigates.[528] If the losses and suffering of the Spaniards had been terrible, the advantages accruing to the invaders, or to the colonies which received and supported them, scarcely compensated for the effort it cost them. Buccaneering had denuded Jamaica of its bravest men, lowered the moral tone of the island, and retarded the development of its natural resources. It was estimated that there were lost to the island between 1668 and 1671, in the designs against Tobago, Curaçao, Porto Bello, Granada and Panama, about 2600 men,[529] which was a large number for a new and very weak colony surrounded by powerful foes. Says the same writer later on: "People have not married, built or settled as they would in time of peace--some for fear of being destroyed, others have got much suddenly by privateers bargains and are gone. War carries away all freemen, labourers and planters of provisions, which makes work and victuals dear and scarce. Privateering encourages all manner of disorder and dissoluteness; and if it succeed, does but enrich the worst sort of people and provoke and alarm the Spaniards."[530] The privateers, moreover, really injured English trade as much as they injured Spanish navigation; and if the English in the second half of the seventeenth century had given the Spaniards as little cause for enmity in the West Indies as the Dutch had done, they perhaps rather than the Dutch would have been the convoys and sharers in the rich Flotas. The Spaniards, moreover, if not in the court at home, at least in the colonies, would have readily lent themselves to a trade, illicit though it be, with the English islands, a trade, moreover, which it was the constant aim of English diplomacy to encourage and maintain, had they been able to assure themselves that their English neighbours were their friends. But when outrage succeeded upon outrage, and the English Governors seemed, in spite of their protestations of innocence, to make no progress toward stopping them, the Spaniards naturally concluded that the English government was the best of liars and the worst of friends. From another point of view, too, the activity of the buccaneers was directly opposed to the commercial interests of Great Britain. Of all the nations of Europe the Spaniards were those who profited least from their American possessions. It was the English, the French and the Dutch who carried their merchandize to Cadiz and freighted the Spanish-American fleets, and who at the return of these fleets from Porto Bello and Vera Cruz appropriated the greater part of the gold, silver and precious stuffs which composed their cargoes. And when the buccaneers cut off a Spanish galleon, or wrecked the Spanish cities on the Main, it was not so much the Spaniards who suffered as the foreign merchants interested in the trade between Spain and her colonies. If the policy of the English and French Governments toward the buccaneers gradually changed from one of connivance or encouragement to one of hostility and suppression, it was because they came to realise that it was easier and more profitable to absorb the trade and riches of Spanish America through the peaceful agencies of treaty and concession, than by endeavouring to enforce a trade in the old-fashioned way inaugurated by Drake and his Elizabethan contemporaries. The pirate successors of the buccaneers were distinguished from their predecessors mainly by the fact that they preyed on the commerce of all flags indiscriminately, and were outlawed and hunted down by all nations alike. They, moreover, widely extended their field of operations. No longer content with the West Indies and the shores of the Caribbean Sea, they sailed east to the coast of Guinea and around Africa to the Indian Ocean. They haunted the shores of Madagascar, the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf, and ventured even as far as the Malabar Coast, intercepting the rich trade with the East, the great ships from Bengal and the Islands of Spice. And not only did the outlaws of all nations from America and the West Indies flock to these regions, but sailors from England were fired by reports of the rich spoils obtained to imitate their example. One of the most remarkable instances was that of Captain Henry Avery, _alias_ Bridgman. In May 1694 Avery was on an English merchantman, the "Charles II.," lying near Corunna. He persuaded the crew to mutiny, set the captain on shore, re-christened the ship the "Fancy," and sailed to the East Indies. Among other prizes he captured, in September 1695, a large vessel called the "Gunsway," belonging to the Great Mogul--an exploit which led to reprisals and the seizure of the English factories in India. On application of the East India Company, proclamations were issued on 17th July, 10th and 21st August 1696, by the Lords Justices of England, declaring Avery and his crew pirates and offering a reward for their apprehension.[531] Five of the crew were seized on their return to England in the autumn of the same year, were tried at the Old Bailey and hanged, and several of their companions were arrested later.[532] In the North American colonies these new pirates still continued to find encouragement and protection. Carolina had long had an evil reputation as a hot-bed of piracy, and deservedly so. The proprietors had removed one governor after another for harbouring the freebooters, but with little result. In the Bahamas, which belonged to the same proprietors, the evil was even more flagrant. Governor Markham of the Quaker colony of Pennsylvania allowed the pirates to dispose of their goods and to refit upon the banks of the Delaware, and William Penn, the proprietor, showed little disposition to reprimand or remove him. Governor Fletcher of New York was in open alliance with the outlaws, accepted their gifts and allowed them to parade the streets in broad daylight. The merchants of New York, as well as those of Rhode Island and Massachusetts, who were prevented by the Navigation Laws from engaging in legitimate trade with other nations, welcomed the appearance of the pirate ships laden with goods from the East, provided a ready market for their cargoes, and encouraged them to repeat their voyages. In 1699 an Act was passed through Parliament of such severity as to drive many of the outlaws from American waters. It was largely a revival of the Act of 28, Henry VIII., was in force for seven years, and was twice renewed. The war of the Spanish Succession, moreover, gave many men of piratical inclinations an opportunity of sailing under lawful commissions as privateers against the French and Spaniards. In this long war, too, the French filibusters were especially numerous and active. In 1706 there were 1200 or 1300 who made their headquarters in Martinique alone.[533] While keeping the French islands supplied with provisions and merchandise captured in their prizes, they were a serious discouragement to English commerce in those regions, especially to the trade with the North American colonies. Occasionally they threatened the coasts of Virginia and New England, and some combined with their West Indian cruises a foray along the coasts of Guinea and into the Red Sea. These corsairs were not all commissioned privateers, however, for some of them seized French shipping with as little compunction as English or Dutch. Especially after the Treaty of Utrecht there was a recrudescence of piracy both in the West Indies and in the East, and it was ten years or more thereafter before the freebooters were finally suppressed. Footnotes: [Footnote 424: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 501, 552. _Cf._ also Nos. 197, 227.] [Footnote 425: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 364-366, 431, 668.] [Footnote 426: Ibid., Nos. 476, 609, 668. Paine was sent from Jamaica under arrest to Governor de Cussy in 1684, and thence was shipped on a frigate to France. (Bibl. Nat., Nouv. Acq., 9325, f. 334.)] [Footnote 427: Ibid., Nos. 668, 769, 963.] [Footnote 428: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 769, 963, 993.] [Footnote 429: Ibid., Nos. 1065, 1313.] [Footnote 430: Ibid., No. 1313.] [Footnote 431: Ibid., Nos. 1190, 1216.] [Footnote 432: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, No. 1173.] [Footnote 433: Ibid., Nos. 1168, 1190, 1223, 1344; _cf._ also Nos. 1381, 1464, 1803. In June 1684 we learn that "Hamlin, captain of La Trompeuse, got into a ship of thirty-six guns on the coast of the Main last month, with sixty of his old crew and as many new men. They call themselves pirates, and their ship La Nouvelle Trompeuse, and talk of their old station at Isle de Vaches." (Ibid., No. 1759.)] [Footnote 434: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 777, 1188, 1189, 1223, 1376, 1471-1474, 1504, 1535, 1537, 1731.] [Footnote 435: Ibid., Nos. 1222, 1223, 1676, 1678, 1686, 1909; _cf._ also Nos. 1382, 1547, 1665.] [Footnote 436: Ibid., Nos. 552, 599, 668, 712. Coxon continued to vacillate between submission to the Governor of Jamaica and open rebellion. In October 1682 he was sent by Sir Thos. Lynch with three vessels to the Gulf of Honduras to fetch away the English logwood-cutters. "His men plotted to take the ship and go privateering, but he valiently resisted, killed one or two with his own hand, forced eleven overboard, and brought three here (Port Royal) who were condemned last Friday." (Ibid., No. 769. Letter of Sir Thos. Lynch, 6th Nov. 1682.) A year later, in November 1683, he had again reverted to piracy (_ibid._, No. 1348), but in January 1686 surrendered to Lieut.-Governor Molesworth and was ordered to be arrested and tried at St. Jago de la Vega (_ibid._, 1685-88, No. 548). He probably in the meantime succeeded in escaping from the island, for in the following November he was reported to be cutting logwood in the Gulf of Campeache, and Molesworth was issuing a proclamation declaring him an outlaw (_ibid._, No. 965). He remained abroad until September 1688 when he again surrendered to the Governor of Jamaica (_ibid._, No. 1890), and again by some hook or crook obtained his freedom.] [Footnote 437: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 660, 673.] [Footnote 438: Ibid., Nos. 627, 769.] [Footnote 439: He is not to be confused with the Peter Paine who brought "La Trompeuse" to Port Royal. Thomas Pain, a few months before he arrived in the Bahamas, had come in and submitted to Sir Thomas Lynch, and had been sent out again by the governor to cruise after pirates. (C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 769, 1707.)] [Footnote 440: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 1509, 1540, 1590, 1924, 1926.] [Footnote 441: Ibid., Nos. 1927, 1938.] [Footnote 442: Ibid., Nos. 1540, 1833.] [Footnote 443: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. viii. p. 130. In 1684 there were between 2000 and 3000 filibusters who made their headquarters in French Hispaniola. They had seventeen vessels at sea with batteries ranging from four to fifty guns. (C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, No. 668; Bibl. Nat., Nouv. Acq., 9325, f. 336.)] [Footnote 444: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. viii. pp. 128-30.] [Footnote 445: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 963, 998, 1065.] [Footnote 446: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 709, 712.] [Footnote 447: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, No. 1163; Charlevoix, liv. viii. p. 133; Narrative contained in "The Voyages and Adventures of Captain Barth, Sharpe and others in the South Sea." Lon. 1684. Governor Lynch wrote in July 1683: "All the governors in America have known of this very design for four or five months." Duro, quoting from a Spanish MS. in the Coleccion Navarrete, t. x. No. 33, says that the booty at Vera Cruz amounted to more than three million reales de plata in jewels and merchandise, for which the invaders demanded a ransom of 150,000 pieces of eight. They also carried away, according to the account, 1300 slaves. (_Op. cit._, v. p. 271.) A real de plata was one-eighth of a peso or piece of eight.] [Footnote 448: S.P. Spain, vol. 69, f. 339.] [Footnote 449: Ibid., vol. 70, f. 57; C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, No. 1633.] [Footnote 450: During de Franquesnay's short tenure of authority, Laurens, driven from Hispaniola by the stern measures of the governor against privateers, made it understood that he desired to enter the service of the Governor of Jamaica. The Privy Council empowered Lynch to treat with him, offering pardon and permission to settle on the island on giving security for his future good behaviour. But de Cussy arrived in the meantime, reversed the policy of de Franquesnay, received Laurens with all the honour due to a military hero, and endeavoured to engage him in the services of the government (Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. viii. pp. 141, 202; C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 1210, 1249, 1424, 1461, 1649, 1718 and 1839).] [Footnote 451: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. viii. pp. 139-145; C.S.P. Colon., 1685-88, No. 378.] [Footnote 452: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. ix. pp. 197-99; Duro., _op. cit._, v. pp. 273-74; C.S.P. Colon., 1685-88, Nos. 193, 339, 378, 778.] [Footnote 453: According to Charlevoix, de Grammont was a native of Paris, entered the Royal Marine, and distinguished himself in several naval engagements. Finally he appeared in the West Indies as the commander of a frigate armed for privateering, and captured near Martinique a Dutch vessel worth 400,000 livres. He carried his prize to Hispaniola, where he lost at the gaming table and consumed in debauchery the whole value of his capture; and not daring to return to France he joined the buccaneers.] [Footnote 454: "Laurens-Cornille Baldran, sieur de Graff, lieutenant du roi en l'isle de Saint Domingue, capitaine de frégate légère, chevalier de Saint Louis"--so he was styled after entering the service of the French king (Vaissière, _op cit._, p. 70, note). According to Charlevoix he was a native of Holland, became a gunner in the Spanish navy, and for his skill and bravery was advanced to the post of commander of a vessel. He was sent to American waters, captured by the buccaneers, and joined their ranks. Such was the terror inspired by his name throughout all the Spanish coasts that in the public prayers in the churches Heaven was invoked to shield the inhabitants from his fury. Divorced from his first wife, whom he had married at Teneriffe in 1674, he was married again in March 1693 to a Norman or Breton woman named Marie-Anne Dieu-le-veult, the widow of one of the first inhabitants of Tortuga (_ibid._). The story goes that Marie-Anne, thinking one day that she had been grievously insulted by Laurens, went in search of the buccaneer, pistol in hand, to demand an apology for the outrage. De Graff, judging this Amazon to be worthy of him, turned about and married her (Ducéré, _op. cit._, p. 113, note). In October 1698 Laurens de Graff, in company with Iberville, sailed from Rochefort with two ships, and in Mobile and at the mouths of the Mississippi laid the foundations of Louisiana (Duro, _op. cit._, v. p. 306). De Graff died in May 1704. _Cf._ also Bibl. Nat., Nouv. Acq., 9325 f. 311.] [Footnote 455: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 1958, 1962, 1964, 1991, 2000. Dampier writes (1685) that "it hath been usual for many years past for the Governor of Petit Guaves to send blank Commissions to Sea by many of his Captains, with orders to dispose of them to whom they saw convenient.... I never read any of these French Commissions ... but I have learnt since that the Tenor of them is to give a Liberty to Fish, Fowl and Hunt. The Occasion of this is, that ... in time of Peace these Commissions are given as a Warrant to those of each side (i.e., French and Spanish in Hispaniola) to protect them from the adverse Party: But in effect the French do not restrain them to Hispaniola, but make them a pretence for a general ravage in any part of America, by Sea or Land."--Edition 1906, I. pp. 212-13.] [Footnote 456: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 668, 769, 942, 948, 1281, 1562, 1759; _ibid._, 1685-88, No. 558. In a memoir of MM. de St. Laurent and Begon to the French King in February 1684, they report that in the previous year some French filibusters discovered in a patache captured from the Spaniards a letter from the Governor of Jamaica exhorting the Spaniards to make war on the French in Hispaniola, and promising them vessels and other means for entirely destroying the colony. This letter caused a furious outburst of resentment among the French settlers against the English (_cf._ also C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, No. 1348). Shortly after, according to the memoir, an English ship of 30 guns appeared for several days cruising in the channel between Tortuga and Port de Paix. The sieur de Franquesnay, on sending to ask for an explanation of this conduct, received a curt reply to the effect that the sea was free to everyone. The French governor thereupon sent a barque with 30 filibusters to attack the Englishman, but the filibusters returned well beaten. In despair de Franquesnay asked Captain de Grammont, who had just returned from a cruise in a ship of 50 guns, to go out against the intruder. With 300 of the corsairs at his back de Grammont attacked the English frigate. The reception accorded by the latter was as vigorous as before, but the result was different, for de Grammont at once grappled with his antagonist, boarded her and put all the English except the captain to the sword.--Bibl. Nat., Nouv. Acq., 9325 f. 332. No reference to this incident is found in the English colonial records.] [Footnote 457: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, No. 963.] [Footnote 458: Ibid., Nos. 1844, 1852.] [Footnote 459: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 1246, 1249, 1250, 1294, 1295, 1302, 1311, 1348, 1489, 1502, 1503, 1510, 1562, 1563, 1565.] [Footnote 460: Ibid., No. 1938; _ibid._, 1685-88, Nos. 33, 53, 57, 68, 128, 129, 157.] [Footnote 461: Ibid., 1681-85, Nos. 668, 769; _ibid._, 1685-88, No. 986.] [Footnote 462: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 1163, 1198; Bibl. Nat., Nouv. Acq., 9325, f. 332.] [Footnote 463: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 1796, 1854, 1855, 1943; _ibid._, 1685-88, Nos. 218, 269, 569, 591, 609, 706, 739.] [Footnote 464: Ibid., 1681-85, Nos. 1163, 1198, 1249, 1630.] [Footnote 465: Ibid., Nos. 963, 992, 1938, 1949, 2025, 2067.] [Footnote 466: Ibid., Nos. 963, 992, 1759.] [Footnote 467: Ibid., Nos. 1259, 1563.] [Footnote 468: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 1845, 1851, 1862, 2042. His ship is called in these letters "La Trompeuse." Unless this is a confusion with Hamlin's vessel, there must have been more than one "La Trompeuse" in the West Indies. Very likely the fame or ill-fame of the original "La Trompeuse" led other pirate captains to flatter themselves by adopting the same name. Breha was captured in 1686 by the Armada de Barlovento and hung with nine or ten of his companions (Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. ix. p. 207).] [Footnote 469: Ibid., Nos. 1299, 1862.] [Footnote 470: Ibid., No. 1249.] [Footnote 471: C.S.P. Colon., 1681-85, Nos. 1560, 1561.] [Footnote 472: Ibid., Nos. 1605, 1862.] [Footnote 473: Ibid., Nos. 1634, 1845, 1851, 1862.] [Footnote 474: Ibid., 1685-88, Nos. 363, 364, 639, 1164.] [Footnote 475: Ibid., Nos. 1029, 1161; Hughson: Carolina Pirates, p. 24.] [Footnote 476: Ibid., 1681-85, No. 1165.] [Footnote 477: Hughson, _op. cit._, p. 22.] [Footnote 478: C.S.P. Colon., 1685-88, Nos. 1277, 1278.] [Footnote 479: Ibid., No. 1411.] [Footnote 480: Ibid., No. 1463.] [Footnote 481: Ibid., No. 1602; _cf._ also _ibid._, 1693-96, No. 2243.] [Footnote 482: C.S.P. Colon., 1685-88, Nos. 116, 269, 805.] [Footnote 483: Ibid., Nos. 1066, 1212.] [Footnote 484: Ibid., Nos. 965, 1066, 1128.] [Footnote 485: Ibid., 1681-85, Nos. 1759, 1852, 2067; _ibid._, 1685-88, No. 1127 and _cf._ Index. For the careers of John Williams (_alias_ Yankey) and Jacob Everson (_alias_ Jacobs) during these years _cf._ C.S.P. Colon., 1685-88, Nos. 259, 348, 897, 1449, 1476-7, 1624, 1705, 1877; Hist. MSS. Comm., xi. pt. 5, p. 136 (Earl of Dartmouth's MSS.).] [Footnote 486: C.S.P. Colon., 1685-88, Nos. 1406, 1656, 1670, 1705, 1723, 1733; _ibid._, 1689-92, Nos. 52, 515; Hist. MSS. Commiss., xi. pt. 5, p. 136.] [Footnote 487: C.S.P. Colon., 1685-88, No. 1959.] [Footnote 488: Ibid., No. 433.] [Footnote 489: Ibid., Nos. 706, 1026.] [Footnote 490: Ibid., No. 1567.] [Footnote 491: Ibid., Nos. 758, 920, 927, 930, 1001, 1187, 1210.] [Footnote 492: C.S.P. Colon., 1685-88, Nos. 1567, 1646, 1655, 1656, 1659, 1663, 1721, 1838, 1858.] [Footnote 493: Dict. of Nat. Biog.] [Footnote 494: C.S.P. Colon., 1685-88, No. 1941; _cf._ also 1906.] [Footnote 495: Ibid., No. 1940.] [Footnote 496: Ibid., 1689-92, Nos. 6, 29, 292.] [Footnote 497: Ibid., No. 299.] [Footnote 498: Ibid., No. 493.] [Footnote 499: Ibid., Nos. 7, 50, 52, 54, 85, 120, 176-178, 293, 296-299, 514, 515, 874, 880, 980, 1041.] [Footnote 500: C.S.P. Colon., 1689-92, Nos. 293, 467; Ibid., 1693-96, Nos. 1931, vii., 1934.] [Footnote 501: Ibid., 1689-92, Nos. 515, 616, 635, 769.] [Footnote 502: C.S.P. Colon., 1689-92, Nos. 873, 980, 1021, 1041.] [Footnote 503: Ibid., No. 714.] [Footnote 504: Ibid., Nos. 2034, 2043, 2269, 2496, 2498, 2641, 2643.] [Footnote 505: Ibid., Nos. 72-76, 2034.] [Footnote 506: Ibid., Nos. 2034, 2044, 2047, 2052, 2103.] [Footnote 507: Ibid., Nos. 2278, 2398, 2416, 2500.] [Footnote 508: Ibid., 1693-96, Nos. 634, 635, 1009, 1236.] [Footnote 509: C.S.P. Colon., 1693-96, Nos. 778, 876; Archives Coloniales, Corresp. Gen. de St. Dom. III. Letter of Ducasse, 30 March 1694.] [Footnote 510: C.S.P. Colon., 1693-96, Nos. 1109, 1236 (i.).] [Footnote 511: Ibid., Nos. 1074, 1083, 1106, 1109, 1114, 1121, 1131, 1194, 1236; Charlevoix, I. x. p. 256 _ff._; Stowe MSS., 305 f., 205 b; Ducéré: Les corsaires sous l'ancien regime, p. 142.] [Footnote 512: The number of white men on the island at this time was variously estimated from 2000 to 2400 men. (C.S.P. Colon., 1693-96, Nos. 1109 and 1258.)] [Footnote 513: C.S.P. Colon, 1693-96, No. 1516.] [Footnote 514: Ibid., Nos. 207, 876, 1004.] [Footnote 515: C.S.P. Colon., 1693-96, Nos. 1946, 1973, 1974, 1980, 1983, 2022. According to Charlevoix, it was the dalliance and cowardice of Laurens de Graff, who was in command at Cap François, and feared falling into the hands of his old enemies the English and Spaniards, which had much to do with the success of the invasion. After the departure of the allies Laurens was deprived of his post and made captain of a light corvette. (Charlevoix, I. x. p. 266 _ff._)] [Footnote 516: Ducéré, _op. cit._ p. 148.] [Footnote 517: Narrative of de Pointis.] [Footnote 518: Narrative of de Pointis; C.S.P. Colon., 1696-97, No. 824.] [Footnote 519: Narrative of de Pointis; C.S.P. Colon., 1696-97, No. 868.] [Footnote 520: Narrative of de Pointis.] [Footnote 521: C.S.P. Colon., 1696-97, Nos. 373-376, 413, 661, 769.] [Footnote 522: Ibid., Nos. 715, 868.] [Footnote 523: C.S.P. Colon., 1696-97, Nos. 375, 453.] [Footnote 524: Ibid., 944. 978.] [Footnote 525: The mouth of the harbour, called Boca Chica, was defended by a fort with 4 bastions and 33 guns; but the guns were badly mounted on flimsy carriages of cedar, and were manned by only 15 soldiers. Inside the harbour was another fort called Santa Cruz, well-built with 4 bastions and a moat, but provided with only a few iron guns and without a garrison. Two other forts formed part of the exterior works of the town, but they had neither garrison nor guns. The city itself was surrounded by solid walls of stone, with 12 bastions and 84 brass cannon, to man which there was a company of 40 soldiers. Such was the war footing on which the Spanish Government maintained the "Key of the Indies." (Duro, _op. cit._, v. p. 287.)] [Footnote 526: Narrative of de Pointis. _Cf._ Charlevoix, _op cit._, liv. xi., for the best account of the whole expedition.] [Footnote 527: Charlevoix, _op. cit._, liv. xi. p. 352. In one of the articles of capitulation which the Governor of Cartagena obtained from de Pointis, the latter promised to leave untouched the plate, jewels and other treasure of the churches and convents. This article was not observed by the French. On the return of the expedition to France, however, Louis XIV. ordered the ecclesiastical plate to be sequestered, and after the conclusion of the Peace of Ryswick sent it back to San Domingo to be delivered to the governor and clergy of the Spanish part of the island. (Duro, _op. cit._, v. pp. 291, 296-97).] [Footnote 528: Duro, _op. cit._, v. p. 310.] [Footnote 529: C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 697.] [Footnote 530: Ibid.; _cf._ C.S.P. Colon., 1669-74, No. 138: "The number of tippling houses is now doubly increased, so that there is not now resident upon the place ten men to every house that selleth strong liquors. There are more than 100 licensed houses, besides sugar and rum works that sell without licence."] [Footnote 531: Crawford: Bibliotheca Lindesiana. Handlist of Proclamations.] [Footnote 532: Firth: Naval Songs and Ballads, pp. l.-lii.; _cf._ also Archives Coloniales, Corresp. Gén. de St Dom., vols. iii.-ix.; Ibid., Martinique, vols. viii.-xix.] [Footnote 533: Archives Coloniales, Corresp. Gén. de Martinique, vol. xvi.] APPENDIX I An account of the English buccaneers belonging to Jamaica and Tortuga in 1663, found among the Rawlinson MSS., makes the number of privateering ships fifteen, and the men engaged in the business nearly a thousand. The list is as follows:-- _Captain Ship Men Guns_ Sir Thomas Whetstone a Spanish prize 60 7 Captain Smart Griffon, frigate 100 14 Captain Guy James, frigate 90 14 Captain James American, frigate 70 6 Captain Cooper his frigate 80 10 Captain Morris a brigantine 60 7 Captain Brenningham his frigate 70 6 Captain Mansfield a brigantine 60 4 Captain Goodly a pink 60 6 Captain Blewfield, belonging to Cape Gratia de Dios, living among the Indians a barque 50 3 Captain Herdue a frigate 40 4 There were four more belonging to Jamaica, of which no account was available. The crews were mixed of English, French and Dutch. APPENDIX II List of filibusters and their vessels on the coasts of French San Domingo in 1684:-- _Captain Ship Men Guns_ Le sieur Grammont le Hardy 300 52 " capitaine Laurens de Graff " Neptune 210 54 " " Michel la Mutine 200 44 " " Janquais " Dauphine 180 30 " " le Sage le Tigre 130 30 " " Dedran " Chasseur 120 20 " sieur du Mesnil la Trompeuse 100 14 " capitaine Jocard l'Irondelle 120 18 " " Brea la Fortune 100 14 La prise du cap^ne. Laurens -- 80 18 Le sieur de Bernanos la Schitie 60 8 " capitaine Cachemarée le St Joseph 70 6 " " Blot la Quagone 90 8 " " Vigeron " Louse (barque) 30 4 " " Petit le Ruzé (bateau) 40 4 " " Lagarde la Subtille 30 2 " " Verpre le Postilion 25 2 (Paris, Archives Coloniales, Corresp. gén. de St. Dom., vol. i.--Mémoire sur l'estat de Saint Domingue à M. de Seignelay par M. de Cussy.) SOURCES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY Manuscript Sources in England _Public Record Office:_ State Papers. Foreign. Spain. Vols. 34-72. (Abbreviated in the footnotes as S.P. Spain.) _British Museum:_ Additional MSS. Vols. 11,268; 11,410-11; 12,410; 12,423; 12,429-30; 13,964; 13,975; 13,977; 13,992; 18,273; 22,676; 36,314-53. Egerton MSS. Vol. 2395. Sloane MSS. Vols. 793 or 894; 2724; 2752; 4020. Stowe MSS. Vols. 305f; 205b. _Bodleian Library:_ Rawlinson MSS. Vols. a. 26, 31, 32, 175, 347. Tanner MSS. Vols. xlvii.; li. Manuscript Sources in France _Archives du ministère des Colonies:_ Correspondance générale de Saint-Domingue. Vols. i.-ix. Historique de Saint-Domingue. Vols. i.-iii. Correspondance générale de Martinique. Vols. i.-xix. _Archives du ministère des affaires étrangères:_ Mémoires et documents. Fonds divers. Amérique. Vols. v., xiii., xlix., li. Correspondance politique. Angleterre. _Bibliothèque nationale:_ Manuscrits, nouvelles acquisitions. Vols. 9325; 9334. Renaudat MSS. Printed Sources Calendar of State Papers. Colonial series. America and the West Indies. 1574-1699. (Abbreviated in the footnotes as C.S.P. Colon.) Calendar of State Papers. Venetian. 1603-1617. (Abbreviated in the footnotes as C.S.P. Ven.) Dampier, William: Voyages. Edited by J. Masefield. 2 vols. London, 1906. Gage, Thomas: The English American ... or a new survey of the West Indies, etc. London, 1648. Historical Manuscripts Commission: Reports. London, 1870 (in progress). Margry, Pierre: Relations et mémoires inédits pour servir à l'histoire de la France dans les pays d'outremer. Paris, 1867. Pacheco, Cardenas, y Torres de Mendoza: Coleccion de documentos relativos al describrimiento, conquista y colonizacion de las posesiones españoles en América y Oceania. 42 vols. Madrid, 1864-83; _continued as_ Coleccion de documentos ineditos ... de ultramar. 13 vols. Madrid, 1885-1900. Pointis, Jean Bernard Desjeans, sieur de: Relation de l'expedition de Carthagène faite par les François en 1697. Amsterdam, 1698. Present state of Jamaica ... to which is added an exact account of Sir Henry Morgan's voyage to ... Panama, etc. London, 1683. Recopilacion de leyes de los reynos de las Indias, mandadas imprimir y publicar por rey Carlos II. 4 vols. Madrid, 1681. Sharp, Bartholomew: The voyages and adventures of Captain B. Sharp ... in the South Sea ... Also Captain Van Horn with his buccanieres surprising of la Vera Cruz, etc. London, 1684. Thurloe, John. A collection of the State papers of, etc. Edited by Thomas Birch. 7 vols. London, 1742. Venables, General. The narrative of, etc. Edited by C.H. Firth. London, 1900. Wafer, Lionel: A new voyage and description of the Isthmus of America, etc. London, 1699. Winwood, Sir Ralph. Memorials of affairs of State ... collected from the original papers of, etc. Edited by Edmund Sawyer. London, 1725. * * * * * Among the printed sources one of the earliest and most important is the well-known history of the buccaneers written by Alexander Olivier Exquemelin (corrupted by the English into Esquemeling, by the French into Oexmelin). Of the author himself very little is known. Though sometimes claimed as a native of France, he was probably a Fleming or a Hollander, for the first edition of his works was written in the Dutch language. He came to Tortuga in 1666 as an _engagé_ of the French West India Company, and after serving three years under a cruel master was rescued by the governor, M. d'Ogeron, joined the filibusters, and remained with them till 1674, taking part in most of their exploits. He seems to have exercised among them the profession of barber-surgeon. Returning to Europe in 1674, he published a narrative of the exploits in which he had taken part, or of which he at least had a first-hand knowledge. This "history" is the oldest and most elaborate chronicle we possess of the extraordinary deeds and customs of these freebooters who played so large a part in the history of the West Indies in the seventeenth century, and it forms the basis of all the popular modern accounts of Morgan and other buccaneer captains. Exquemelin, although he sadly confuses his dates, seems to be a perfectly honest witness, and his accounts of such transactions as fell within his own experience are closely corroborated by the official narratives. (Biographies of Exquemelin are contained in the "Biographie Universelle" of Michaud, vol. xxxi. p. 201, and in the "Nouvelle Biographie Générale" of Hoefer, vol. xxxviii. p. 544. But both are very unsatisfactory and display a lamentable ignorance of the bibliography of his history of the buccaneers. According to the preface of a French edition of the work published at Lyons in 1774 and cited in the "Nouvelle Biographie," Exquemelin was born about 1645 and died after 1707.) The first edition of the book, now very rare, is entitled: De Americaensche Zee-Roovers. Behelsende eene pertinente en waerachtige Beschrijving van alle de voornaemste Roveryen en onmenschliycke wreend heden die Englese en France Rovers tegens de Spanjaerden in America gepleeght hebben; Verdeelt in drie deelen ... Beschreven door A. O. Exquemelin ... t'Amsterdam, by Jan ten Hoorn, anno 1678, in 4º. (Brit. Mus., 1061. _Cf._ 20 (2). The date, 1674, of the first Dutch edition cited by Dampierre ("Essai sur les sources de l'histoire des Antilles Françaises," p. 151) is doubtless a misprint.) (Both Dampierre (_op. cit._, p. 152) and Sabin ("Dict. of Books relating to America," vi. p. 310) cite, as the earliest separate account of the buccaneers, Claes G. Campaen's "Zee-Roover," Amsterdam, 1659. This little volume, however, does not deal with the buccaneers in the West Indies, but with privateering along the coasts of Europe and Africa.) This book was reprinted several times and numerous translations were made, one on the top of the other. What appears to be a German translation of Exquemelin appeared in 1679 with the title: Americanische Seeräuber. Beschreibung der grössesten durch die Französische und Englische Meer-Beuter wider die Spanier in Amerika verübten Raubery Grausamheit ... Durch A. O. Nürnberg, 1679. 12º. ("Historie der Boecaniers of Vrybuyters van America ... Met Figuuren, 3 Deel. t'Amsterdam, 1700," 4º.--Brit. Mus., 9555. c. 19.) This was followed two years later by a Spanish edition, also taken from the Dutch original: Piratas de la America y luz a la defensa de las costas de Indias Occidentales. Dedicado a Don Bernadino Antonio de Pardinas Villar de Francos ... por el zelo y cuidado de Don Antonio Freyre ... Traducido de la lingua Flamenca en Espanola por el Dor. de Buena-Maison ... Colonia Agrippina, en casa de Lorenzo Struickman. Ano de 1681. 12º. (Brit. Mus., G. 7179. The appended description of the Spanish Government in America was omitted and a few Spanish verses were added in one or two places, but otherwise the translation seems to be trustworthy. The portraits and the map of the isthmus of Panama are the same as in the Dutch edition, but the other plates are different and better. In the Bibl. Nat. there is another Spanish edition of 1681 in quarto.) This Spanish text, which seems to be a faithful rendering of the Dutch, was reprinted with a different dedication in 1682 and in 1684, and again in Madrid in 1793. It is the version on which the first English edition was based. The English translation is entitled: Bucaniers of America; or a true account of the ... assaults committed ... upon the coasts of the West Indies, by the Bucaniers of Jamaica and Tortuga ... especially the ... exploits of Sir Henry Morgan ... written originally in Dutch by J. Esquemeling ... now ... rendered into English. W. Crooke; London, 1684. 4º. (Brit. Mus., 1198, a. 12 (or) 1197, h. 2.; G. 7198.) The first English edition of Exquemelin was so well received that within three months a second was published, to which was added the account of a voyage by Captain Cook and a brief chapter on the exploits of Barth. Sharp in the Pacific Ocean. In the same year, moreover, there appeared an entirely different English version, with the object of vindicating the character of Morgan from the charges of brutality and lust which had appeared in the first translation and in the Dutch original. It was entitled: The History of the Bucaniers; being an impartial relation of all the battels, sieges, and other most eminent assaults committed for several years upon the coasts of the West Indies by the pirates of Jamaica and Tortuga. More especially the unparalleled achievements of Sir Henry Morgan ... very much corrected from the errors of the original, by the relations of some English gentlemen, that then resided in those parts. _Den Engelseman is een Duyvil voor een Mensch._ London, printed for Thomas Malthus at the Sun in the Poultry. 1684. (Brit. Mus., G. 13,674.) The first edition of 1684 was reprinted with a new title-page in 1695, and again in 1699. The latter included, in addition to the text of Exquemelin, the journals of Basil Ringrose and Raveneau de Lussan, both describing voyages in the South Seas, and the voyage of the Sieur de Montauban to Guinea in 1695. This was the earliest of the composite histories of the buccaneers and became the model for the Dutch edition of 1700 and the French editions published at Trevoux in 1744 and 1775. The first French translation of Exquemelin appeared two years after the English edition of 1684. It is entitled: Histoire des Aventuriers qui se sont signalez dans les Indes contenant ce qu'ils ont fait de plus remarquable depuis vingt années. Avec la vie, les Moeurs, les Coutumes des Habitans de Saint Domingue et de la Tortuë et une Description exacte de ces lieux; ... Le tout enrichi de Cartes Geographiques et de Figures en Taille-douce. Par Alexandre Olivier Oexmelin. A Paris, chez Jacques Le Febre. MDCLXXXVI., 2 vols. 12º. (Brit. Mus., 9555, aa. 4.) This version may have been based on the Dutch original; although the only indication we have of this is the fact that the work includes at the end a description of the government and revenues of the Spanish Indies, a description which is found in none of the earlier editions of Exquemelin, except in the Dutch original of 1678. The French text, however, while following the outline of Exquemelin's narrative, is greatly altered and enlarged. The history of Tortuga and French Hispaniola is elaborated with details from another source, as are also the descriptions of the manners and customs of the cattle-hunters and the freebooters. Accounts of two other buccaneers, Montbars and Alexandre Bras-le-Fer, are inserted, but d'Ogeron's shipwreck on Porto Rico and the achievements of Admiral d'Estrees against the Dutch are omitted. In general the French editor, the Sieur de Frontignières, has re-cast the whole story. A similar French edition appeared in Paris in 1688, (Brit. Mus., 278, a. 13, 14.) and in 1713 a facsimile of this last was published at Brussels by Serstevens (Dampierre, p. 153). Sabin (_op. cit._, vi. 312) mentions an edition of 1699 in three volumes which included the journal of Raveneau de Lussan. In 1744, and again in 1775, another French edition was published in four volumes at Trevoux, to which was added the voyage of Montauban to the Guinea Coast, and the expeditions against Vera Cruz in 1683, Campeache in 1685, and Cartagena in 1697. The third volume contained the journal of R. de Lussan, and the fourth a translation of Johnson's "History of the Pirates." (Brit. Mus., 9555, aa. 1.) A similar edition appeared at Lyons in 1774, but I have had no opportunity of examining a copy. (Nouvelle Biographie Générale, tom. xxxviii. 544. The best bibliography of Exquemelin is in Sabin, _op. cit._, vi. 309.) Secondary Works Of the secondary works concerned with the history of the buccaneers, the oldest are the writings of the French Jesuit historians of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Dutertre (Histoire générale des Antilles. Paris, 1667-71), a chronicler of events within his own experience as well as a reliable historian, unfortunately brings his narrative to a close in 1667, but up to that year he is the safest guide to the history of the French Antilles. Labat, in his "Nouveau Voyage aux Isles de l'Amerique" (Paris, 1722), gives an account of eleven years, between 1694 and 1705, spent in Martinique and Guadeloupe, and although of little value as an historian, he supplies us with a fund of the most picturesque and curious details about the life and manners of the people in the West Indies at the end of the seventeenth century. A much more important and accurate work is Charlevoix's "Histoire de l'Isle Espagnole ou de S. Domingue" (Paris, 1732), and this I have used as a general introduction to the history of the French buccaneers. Raynal's "Histoire philosophique et politique des établissements et du commerce européen dans les deux Indes" (Amsterdam, 1770) is based for the origin of the French Antilles upon Dutertre and Labat and is therefore negligible for the period of the buccaneers. Adrien Dessalles, who in 1847 published his "Histoire générale des Antilles," preferred, like Labat and Raynal, to depend on the historians who had preceded him rather than endeavour to gain an intimate knowledge of the sources. In the English histories of Jamaica written by Long, Bridges, and Gardner, whatever notice is taken of the buccaneers is meagre and superficial, and the same is true of Bryan Edwards' "History, civil and commercial, of the British colonies in the West Indies." Thomas Southey, in his "Chronological History of the West Indies" (Lond. 1827), devotes considerable space to their achievements, but depends entirely upon the traditional sources. In 1803 J.W. von Archenholz published "Die Geschichte der Flibustier," a superficial, diffuse and even puerile narrative, giving no references whatever to authorities. (It was translated into French (Paris, 1804), and into English by Geo. Mason (London, 1807).) In 1816 a "History of the Buccaneers in America" was published by James Burney as the fourth volume of "A chronological History of the Discoveries in the South Seas or Pacific Ocean." Burney casts but a rapid glance over the West Indies, devoting most of the volume to an account of the voyages of the freebooters along the coast of South America and in the East Indies. Walter Thornbury in 1858 wrote "The Buccaneers, or the Monarchs of the Main," a hasty compilation, florid and overdrawn, and without historical judgment or accuracy. In 1895 M. Henri Lorin presented a Latin thesis to the Faculty of History in Paris, entitled:--"De praedonibus Insulam Santi Dominici celebrantibus saeculo septimo decimo," but he seems to have confined himself to Exquemelin, Le Pers, Labat, Dutertre and a few documents drawn from the French colonial archives. The best summary account in English of the history and significance of the buccaneers in the West Indies is contained in Hubert H. Bancroft's "History of Central America" (ii. chs. 26, 28-30). Within the past year there has appeared an excellent volume by M. Pierre de Vaissière describing creole life and manners in the French colony of San Domingo in the century and a half preceding the Revolution. (Vaissière, Pierre de: Saint Dominigue. (1629-1789). Paris, 1909.) It is a reliable monograph, and like his earlier volume, "Gentilshommes campagnards de l'ancienne France," is written in a most entertaining style. De Vaissière contributes much valuable information, especially in the first chapter, about the origins and customs of the French "flibustiers." I have been able to find only two Spanish works which refer at all to the buccaneers. One is entitled: Piraterias y agresiones de los ingleses y de otros pueblos de Europa en la America espanola desde el siglo XVI. al XVIII., deducidas de las obras de D. Dionisio de Alcedo y Herrera. Madrid, 1883. 4º. Except for a long introduction by Don Justo Zaragoza based upon Exquemelin and Alcedo, it consists of a collection of extracts referring to freebooters on the coasts of Peru and Chili, and deals chiefly with the eighteenth century. The other Spanish work is an elaborate history of the Spanish navy lately published in nine volumes by Cesareo Fernandez Duro, and entitled:-- Armada espanola desde la union de los reinos de Castilla y de Aragon. Madrid, 1895. There are numerous chapters dealing with the outrages of the French and English freebooters in the West Indies, some of them based upon Spanish sources to which I have had no access. But upon comparison of Duro's narrative, which in so far as it relates to the buccaneers is often meagre, with the sources available to me, I find that he adds little to what may be learned on the subject here in England. One of the best English descriptions of the Spanish colonial administration and commercial system is still that contained in book viii. of Robertson's "History of America" (Lond. 1777). The latest and best summary account, however, is in French, in the introduction to vol. i. of "La traite négrière aux Indes de Castille" (Paris, 1906), by Georges Scelle. Weiss, in vol. ii. of his history of "L'Espagne depuis Philippe II. jusqu'aux Bourbons" (Paris, 1844), treats of the causes of the economic decadence of Spain, and gives an account of the contraband trade in Spanish America, drawn largely from Labat. On this general subject Leroy-Beaulieu, "De la colonization chez les peuples modernes" (Paris, 1874), has been especially consulted. The best account of the French privateers of the sixteenth century in America is in an essay entitled: "Les corsairs français au XVI^e siècle dans les Antilles" (Paris, 1902), by Gabriel Marcel. It is a short monograph based on the collections of Spanish documents brought together by Pacheco and Navarrete. The volume by E. Ducéré entitled, "Les corsairs sous l'ancien regîme" (Bayonne, 1895), is also valuable for the history of privateering. For the history of the Elizabethan mariners I have made use of the two works by J. S. Corbett: "Drake and the Tudor Navy" (Lond. 1898), and "The successors of Drake" (Lond. 1900). Other works consulted were: Arias de Miranda, José: Examen critico-historico del influyo que tuvo en el comercio, industria y poblacion de Espana su dominacion en America. Madrid, 1854. Blok, Pieter Johan: History of the people of the Netherlands. Translated by C. A. Bierstadt and Ruth Putnam. 4 vols. New York, 1898. Brown, Alex.: The Genesis of the United States. 2 vols. Lond., 1890. Crawford, James Ludovic Lindsay, 26th Earl of: Bibliotheca Lindesiana. Handlist of proclamations. 3 vols. Aberdeen, 1893-1901. Dumont, Jean: Corps universel diplomatique. 13 vols. Hague, 1726-39. Froude, James Anthony: History of England from the fall of Wolsey to the defeat of the Spanish armada. 12 vols. 1870-75. English seamen in the sixteenth century. Lond., 1901. Gardiner, Samuel Rawson: History of the Commonwealth and Protectorate, 1649-1660. 3 vols. Lond., 1894-1903. Geographical and historical description of ... Cartagena, Porto Bello, La Vera Cruz, the Havana and San Augustin. Lond., 1741. Gibbs, Archibald R.: British Honduras ... from ... 1670. Lond., 1883. Hakluyt, Richard: The principal navigations ... of the English nation, etc. 3 vols. Lond., 1598-1600. Herrera y Tordesillas, Antonio: Historia general de las Indias. 4 vols. Madrid, 1601-15. Hughson, Shirley C.: The Carolina pirates and colonial commerce. Baltimore, 1894. Lucas, C. P.: A historical geography of the British colonies. 4 vols. Oxford, 1905. Vol. ii. The West Indies. Monson, Sir William: The naval tracts of ... Edited ... by M. Oppenheim. Vols. i. and ii. Lond., 1902--(in progress). Oviedo y Valdes, Gonzalo Fernandez de: Historia general de las Indias. Salamanca, 1547. Peytraud, Lucien: L'Esclavage aux Antilles françaises avant 1789, etc. Paris, 1897. Saint-Yves, G.: Les compagnes de Jean d'Estrées dans la mer des Antilles, 1676-78. Paris, 1900. Strong, Frank: Causes of Cromwell's West Indian expedition. (Amer. Hist. Review. Jan. 1899). Veitia Linaje, Josef de: Norte de la Contratacion de las Indias Occidentales. Sevilla, 1672. Vignols, Leon: La piraterie sur l'Atlantique au XVIII^e siècle. Rennes, 1891. INDEX Acapulco, 21 Aix-la-Chapelle, peace of, 156 _Ajoupa_, 68, 79 Albemarle, first duke of, _see_ Monck, George " second duke of, _see_ Monck, Christopher Albuquerque, Duke of, 109, 199 Alexander VI., Bull of Pope, 3, 30 Allison, Captain (buccaneer), 224 Antigua, 48, 55, 229 Araya salt-mine, 53-54 Archenholz, J.W. von, 283 Arlington, Earl of, _see_ Bennett, Sir Henry Arundell, James, 114, 117 Assiento of negroes, 26, 36-7, 103, 184 _n._ Association, Island, _see_ Tortuga Aston, Lord of Forfar, 102 Avery, Captain Henry, 270-71 Aves, Isle d', _see_ Isle d'Aves Aylett, Captain (buccaneer), 156 _Azogues_, 22, 101 Azores, 3, 4, 15, 20, 42, 84 Bahama Islands, 2, 237, 238 and _n._, 271 Bahia, 49 Bancroft, Hubert H., 284 Banister, Major James, 205 Bannister, Captain (buccaneer) 254 _Barbacoa_, 68 Barbadoes, 47, 50, 67, 74, 85 and _n._, 87, 92, 99, 104, 120, etc. Barbuda, 48 Barinas, Marques de, 268 Barker, Andrew, 40 Barlovento, Armada de, 109, 251 _n._, 261 Barnard, Captain (buccaneer), 111 Barnes, Captain ( " ), 219 Barre, Charles, 215 Barry, Colonel Samuel, 118 and _n._ Beckford, Peter, 217 Beeston, Captain (afterwards Sir), William, 97 _n._, 108 _n._, 118, 135 and _n._, 142, 155, 158, 200, 202, 259, etc. Begon, M. Michel (Intendant of the French Islands), 244, 247 _n._ Benavides, Don Juan de, 50 Bennett, Sir Henry (afterwards Earl of Arlington), 100, 122, 128, 132, 133, 142, 143 _n._, 160, 186, 198, etc. Berkeley, Sir Thomas, 41 Bermuda, 20, 75, 92, 201 Bernanos, Captain (buccaneer), 274 Bernard, Samuel, 255, 257 Bigford, Captain (buccaneer), 156 "Biscayners," 254-5 Blake, Captain, R.N., 93 Blewfield, Captain (buccaneer), 273 Blot, Captain (buccaneer), 274 Boston (Mass.), 251 Bradley, Lieutenant-Colonel Joseph (buccaneer), 164-5 Brayne, Lieutenant-General William, 96, 114, 127 Brazil, 3, 25, 36, 47, 49 and _n._, 102 Breda, treaties of, 141 Breha, Captain, _see_ Landresson, Michel Brenningham, Captain (buccaneer), 273 Brest, corsairs of, 42, 262, 265 Bridges, George W., 283 Browne, Captain James (buccaneer), 217-18 Browne, Richard (buccaneer), 156, 190 _n._, 195, 196 Buccaneers, cruelties of, 147-50, 153 _n._, 185 _ff._ " customs of, 70-78, 163 _n._ " derivation of the word, 66 Buccaneers, laws against, _see_ Laws against privateers and pirates " numbers of, 124, 240 _n._, 271 " origins of, 67, 69, 78-80, 125-27 " suppression of, 200 _ff._ " vessels of, 75 Buenos Ayres, 10, 22 Bull of Pope Alexander VI., _see_ Alexander VI. Burney, James, 283 Burough, Cornelius, 99 Butler, Gregory (Commissioner of Jamaica), 85 _n._ Byndloss, Colonel Robert, 215, 248, 255 Cabral, Pedro Alvarez, 3 Cachemarée, Captain (buccaneer), 274 Cadiz, 9 _n._, 12 and _n._, 13 and _n._, 16, 20, 22, 25 _n._, 26, 40, 96 _n._, etc. Campeache, city of, 12 _n._, 22, 107-8, 109, 111, 210, 222, 245 " province of, 21, 107, 137 _n._, 138, 143, 155, 201, 204, 207, 208, etc. Campo y Espinosa, Don Alonso del, 157, 158 Canary Islands, 14, 15, 42, 241 Cap François, 220, 221, 258, 261, 262 _n._ Caracas, 10, 12 _n._, 15, 16, 22, 50, 154, 222, 240, 242 Cardenas, Alonso de, 52, 53 Carey, Colonel Theod., 129, 130 Carleill, General Christopher, 39 Carleton, Sir Dudley, Viscount Dorchester, 102 Carlile, Captain Charles, R.N., 236 Carlisle, Earl of, _see_ Howard, Charles Carolinas, 3, 47, 239, 250, 251, 252, 253, 271 Cartagena (New Granada), 9 _n._, 11, 14 and _n._, 15, 16, 19, 23, 38, 39, 262, etc. Cartago (Costa Rica), 136 and _n._ _Casa de Contratacion_, 11, 12, 13 _n._, 22, 25 and _n._, 42 Catherine of Braganza, 100 Cattle-hunters, 57-58, 62, 65, 66-69 Cavallos (Honduras), 21 Cayenne (Guiana), 233, 234 Cecil, Robert, Viscount Cranborne and Earl of Salisbury, 32 _n._, 51 "Centurion," 104, 105, 108 and _n._ Chagre, port of, 43, 195, 267 " river, 17 _n._, 164, 168, 175, 193 Chaloner, Captain, 54 Charles I., King of England, 50, 52, 102 " II., King of England, 97, 100, 101, 103, 109, 110, 117, 119, 120, 121, etc. " II., King of Spain, 268 " V., Emperor, 10, 13 _n._, 45, 46 Charleston (Carolina), 252, 253 Charlevoix, Pierre-François-Xavier, 58, 62, 70, 78, 81, 245, 246 _n._, 262 _n._, 283, 284 _n._ _Chasse-partie_, 73 Chili, 10, 11, 17, 48, 229 _Cinquantaines_, 63 Clandestine trade, 8 and _n._, 25-27, 36-38, 102-104 Clarke, Robert (Governor of the Bahamas), 237-8 Clifford, George, Earl of Cumberland, 34, 40, 41 Codrington, Christopher (Deputy-Governor of Nevis), 229 Colbert, Jean-Baptiste, Marquis de Seignelay, 8 _n._, 9 _n._ Coligny, Admiral Gaspard de, 47 Colleton, James (Governor of Carolina), 252 Collier, Edward (buccaneer), 155, 156, 160, 182 _n._, 190 _n._, 196 Colombia, U.S. of, _see_ New Granada Columbus, Christopher, 2, 42 _Consulado_, 12, 13 Contraband trade, _see_ Clandestine trade Cooke, Captain (buccaneer), 224 Cooper, Captain (buccaneer), 111, 273 Corbett, Julian S., 286 Cordova, Don Luis de, 242 Cornwallis, Sir Charles, 51, 54 Coro (Venezuela), 98 Cortez, Hernando, 3, 46 Costa Rico, 136 and _n._ Cottington, Francis, Lord, 101-2 Council of the Indies, 13 and _n._, 14, 22, 25 _n._, 102 "Cour Volant," 155-6, and _n._ Coventry, Sir Henry (Secretary of State), 215 Coxon, Captain John (buccaneer), 220, 223, 224, 225 _n._, 226, 227-8 and _n._, 235, 237 and _n._, 238, 245, etc. Cranborne, Viscount, _see_ Cecil, Robert Criminals transported to the colonies, 5, 92, 125-6 Cromwell, Oliver, 85, 87-90, 92, 100 Cuba, 2, 19, 21, 23, 26, 32, 42, 46, 49, 77, etc. Cumana (Venezuela), 16, 53, 98, 267 Cumanagote (Venezuela), 267 Cumberland, Earl of, _see_ Clifford, George Curaçao, 48, 67, 128, 129, 131, 134, 135, 143, 220, 221, etc. Cussy, Sieur Tarin de (Governor of French Hispaniola), 243-4 and _n._, 245, 246, 258 Dalyson, Captain William, 99 _n._ Dampier, William, 73 _n._, 108 _n._, 221 _n._, 225 _n._, 228 _n._, 247 _n._ Daniel, Captain (buccaneer), 74 Darien, Isthmus of, 3, 22, 39, 40, 43, 145, 163, 191 _n._, 225 and _n._, 226, etc. Deane, John (buccaneer), 213-14 Dedran, Captain (buccaneer), 274 Dempster, Captain (buccaneer), 154 Deschamps, Jérémie, Seigneur de Rausset (Governor of Tortuga), 116 and _n._, 117, 119 Deseada, 14, 15, 20 Desjeans, Jean-Bernard, Sieur de Pointis, 262 _ff._ Dessalles, Adrien, 283 Diaz Pimienta, Don Francisco, 55, 56 _n._ Diego Grillo (buccaneer), 201 and _n._ Dieppe, corsairs of, 42, 48 Dominica, 20, 38, 74, 235 "Don Francisco," 207 "Don Juan Morf," 60 and _n._, 61 Dorchester, Viscount _see_ Carleton, Sir Dudley Doyley, Colonel Edward (Governor of Jamaica), 91, 96-97, 98, 99 and _n._, 100, 101, 107, 116, 122, 124, etc. Drake, Sir Francis, 31, 34, 38, 39, 40, 41, 50, 89 and _n._, 195, 210, etc. Ducasse, Jean-Baptiste (Governor of French Hispaniola), 260-61, 262, 263, 265, 266 Ducéré, Eduard, 285-6 Duro, Cesario Fernandez, 135 _n._, 211 _n._, 243 _n._, 285 Dutch wars, _see_ War " West India Company, 47, 49 Dutertre, Jean-Baptiste, 70, 114, 116 _n._, 118 _n._, 282, 284 East Indies, _see_ Indies, East Edmondes, Sir Thomas, 54 Edwards, Bryan, 283 Elizabeth, Queen, 29, 31, 34, 38, 39, 46, 50, 101, 136 Elletson, Robert, 248, 249, 255, 257 _Engagés_, 59, 79-80, 124 Equador, 17, 229 Esmit, Adolf (Governor of St. Thomas), 234-37 " Nicholas (Governor of St. Thomas), 236 Esnambuc, Mons. d', 63 Essex, Captain Cornelius (buccaneer), 224, 226 Estrées, Jean, Comte d', 9 _n._, 220-221 Everson, Captain Jacob (buccaneer), 228 and _n._, 254 _n._ Everson, Jory (Governor of St. Thomas), 237 Exquemelin, Alexander Olivier, 70, 77, 78, 79, 124, 131 _n._, 135 _n._, 136 _n._, 137 _n._, 277-82 Fanshaw, Sir Richard, 103, 106, 120, 121, 140, 141 Ferdinand and Isabella, Kings of Spain, 3, 10 Fitzgerald, Philip, 206-7 Fletcher, Benjamin (Governor of New York), 271 _Flibustiers_, derivation of the word, 66; _see_ Buccaneers Fload, Captain (Governor of Tortuga), 64 _n._ Flores, _see_ Azores. Florida, 2, 47, 54. Flota, 20, 38-9, 49, 77, 95, 96 and _n._, 103, 109, 242; _cf. also_ Treasure fleets Fontenay, Chevalier de (Governor of Tortuga), 81-84, 113, 116 Fortescue, Major-General Richard, 92, 96, 127 Franquesnay, Sieur de (Governor of French Hispaniola), 222, 244 and _n._, 247 _n._ French wars, _see_ War French West India Company, 48, 117, 123, 162 Frobisher, Martin, 39 Frogge, William, 174 _n._, 177 _n._, 184 _n._, 186, 196 _n._ Fuemayor, Rui Fernandez de, 61 and _n._ Gage, Thomas, 16 _n._, 18, 23, 55 _n._, 90 Galicia, Company of, 12 _n._ Galleons, 14-20, 21, 22, 23, 25 _n._, 55, 56 _n._, 62, 76; _cf. also_ Treasure fleets. Galleons' passage, 15 Gardner, William J., 283 Gautemala, 10, 16, 17 _n._, 22, 77 Gaves, Don Gabriel de, 60 "Gens de la côte," 69 Gibraltar (Venezuela), 157, 267 Godolphin, Sir William, 103, 160, 186, 197, 198, 199, 207, 208, 209-10 "Golden Hind," 39 Golden Island, 225, 253 Goodly, Captain (buccaneer), 273 Goodson, Vice-Admiral William, 92-96, 98 _n._, 99, 104 Graff, Laurens-Cornille Baldran, Sieur de, 241-43, 244 _n._, 245, 246 and _n._, 248, 258-59, 262 _n._, 274 Grammont, Sieur de (buccaneer), 73, 221-2, 240-1, 243, 244, 245, 246 and _n._, 248 and _n._ Granada (Nicaragua), 16 _n._, 136, 138-9, 162, 267, 268 Granjeria de las Perlas (New Granada), 44 Grenville, Sir Richard, 40 Guadaloupe, 14, 20, 48, 67, 131, 282 "Guanahani," 2 Guiana, 10, 41, 47, 54 Guinea, coast of, 36, 37, 38, 235, 241, 270, 272 Guipuzcoa, Company of, 12 _n._ "Gunsway," 270 Guy, Captain (buccaneer), 273 Guzman, Gonzalo de, 43 " Don Juan Perez de, _see_ Perez de Guzman. Hamlin, Captain Jean (buccaneer), 234-6 and _n._, 251 _n._ Hampton, Thomas, 37-38 Haro, Don Francisco de, 183 _n._ " Don Luis de, 100 Harris, Captain Peter (buccaneer), 225, 226, 245 Harrison, Captain, (buccaneer), 162 Hattsell, Captain, ( " ), 136 Havana, 14, 16, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 42, 43, 45, etc. Havre, corsairs, of, 48 Hawkins, Sir John, 31, 34, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 210. " William, 36 Heath, Attorney-General Sir Robert, 52 Henrietta Island, 55, 59 _n._ Henry II., King of France, 53 " IV., " 9 _n._, 48 " VIII. King of England, 36 and _n._ Herdue, Captain (buccaneer), 273 Heyn, Admiral Piet, 49, 96 Hilton, Captain (Governor of Tortuga), 59, 60 Hispaniola, 2, 20 and _n._ 26, 32, 34, 35, 37, 46, 55, 57, etc. Holland, Earl of, _see_ Rich, Henry Holmes, Admiral Sir Robert, 253 Honduras, 50, 107, 208, 211, 223, 226, 234, 249 Hopton, Sir Arthur, 53 Howard, Charles, Earl of Carlisle (Governor of Jamaica), 205, 211, 212, 222-28, 232 " Sir Philip, 255 Humanes, Conde de, 102 Ibarra, Don Carlos, 62 _n._ Inchiquin, Earl of, _see_ O'Brien, William Indian Ocean, pirates in, _see_ Pirates Indians, _see_ Spain, cruelties to Indians Indies, Council of the, _see_ Council " exclusion of foreigners from, _see_ Spain Indies, East, pirates in, _see_ Pirates " West, colonisation of, 45-48 " " first English ship in, 34-35 "Indults," 25 Interlopers, _see_ Clandestine trade Isabella, Queen, _see_ Ferdinand and Isabella Isle d'Aves, 220 and _n._, 221, 222, 241 " la Vache, 155, 156, 160, 161, 162, 205, 212, 235, 236 _n._, 245, etc. Jackman, Captain (buccaneer), 137, 143 Jackson, Captain William, 50, 67, 85 Jacobs, Captain (buccaneer), _see_ Everson Jamaica, 2, 19, 46, 50, 57, 73, 77, 85, 86, 90, etc. " assembly of, 110, 217, 218, 227, 230, 231, 233, 248 " Council of, 104, 106, 107, 111, 118, 132, 159, 196, 202, 203, etc. James, Captain (buccaneer), 273 " ("President of Tortuga"), 64 _n._ James I., King of England, 46, 50, 51, 101 _n._ " II., King of England, 253, 255, 257, 258 Jamestown (Virginia), 47 Jenkins, Sir Leoline, 208 Jiménez, Don José Sánchez, 139 Jocard, Captain (buccaneer), 274 Johnson, Captain (buccaneer), 202-3 " " R.N., 234 "Judith," 39 _Juzgado de Indias_, 13 _n._ Kingston (Jamaica), 50, 86 Knollys, Francis, 39, 40 Labat, Jean-Baptiste, 70, 73-5, 282, 284, 285 Lagarde, Captain (buccaneer), 274 La Guayra (Venezuela), 240-41 Lancers, _see Cinquantaines_ Landresson, Captain Michel, _alias_ Breha (buccaneer), 251 and _n._, 252, 274 Langford, Captain Abraham, 118-19 Las Casas, Bartolomé de, Bishop of Chiapa, 32 Laurens de Graff, _see_ Graff. La Vivon, Mons., 155-6 and _n._ Laws against privateers and pirates, 110, 217, 218, 220, 227, 230-31, 251-53, 271 Le Clerc, Captain François, 42 Legane (Hispaniola), 124, 258, 261 Legrand, Pierre (buccaneer), 135 _n._ "Le Pain," _see_ Paine, Peter Le Pers (Jesuit writer), 284 and _n._ Lerma, Duque de, 9 _n._ Leroy-Beaulieu, Pierre-Paul, 1, 285 Le Sage, Captain (buccaneer), 274 Lessone, " ( " ), 224 Levasseur, Mons., 63-66, 78, 80-82, 116 Ley, James, Earl of Marlborough, 52, 53 Lilburne, Robert (Governor of Bahamas), 238-39 Lima (Peru), 16, 17, 25 Linhares, Conde de, 102 Logwood, 201, 208-12, 226, 234, 249 Long, Edward, 127, 283 " Samuel, 226 Lonvilliers, Mons. de, 81 Lorin, Henri, 284 Louis XIV., King of France, 9 _n._, 116, 219, 257, 258, 266 _n._ Ludbury, Captain (buccaneer), 162 Ludwell, Philip (Governor of Carolina), 253 Lynch, Sir Thomas (Governor of Jamaica), 111, 121, 197, 198, 200-205, 209, 213, 216, 232-38, 243, and _n._, etc. Lyttleton, Sir Charles (Lieutenant-Governor of Jamaica), 106, 109, 110, 111, 112, 118, 127 Madeira, 42 Maggott, Captain (buccaneer), 224 Maintenon, Marquis de, 222 Maldonado de Aldana, 108 Mansfield, Captain Edward (buccaneer), 73, 131, and _n._, 134-36, 138, 143, 163 _n._, 164, 273 "Mansvelt," _see_ Mansfield Maracaibo (Venezuela), 15, 22, 50, 156-8, 159, 161, 210, 222, 267 Marcel, Gabriel, 285 Margarita Island, 2, 15, 16, 38, 222 " patache, 15, 16, 19 and _n._ Margot, Port (Hispaniola), 64, 65, 83, 84, 123 Marie-Anne of Austria, Queen Regent of Spain, 141, 159, 184 _n._, 198, 199, 208, 211 Markham, William (Governor of Pennsylvania), 271 Marlborough, Earl of, _see_ Ley, James "Marston Moor," 87, 97, 98 and _n._, 99 Marteen, Captain David (buccaneer), 134 Martin, 81-82, 83 _n._ Martinique, 48, 67, 73, 74, 75, 220, 246 _n._, 272, 282 "Mary of Guildford," 36 _n._ Mary, Queen of England, 259 Massachusetts, 252, 271 _Matelotage_, 69 Medina Coeli, Duque de, 199 " de los Torres, Duque de, 141 Merida (Yucatan), 210, 245 Mesnil, Captain (buccaneer), 274 Mexico, _see_ New Spain Michel, Captain (buccaneer), 274 " le Basque (buccaneer), 124, 156 Milton, John (Latin Secretary of State), 89 _n._ Mitchell, Captain (buccaneer), 108 _n._ Modyford, Colonel Charles, 203 " Sir James, 127, 137, 143 _n._, 163 _n._ " Sir Thomas (Governor of Jamaica), 119-23, 127, 128, 131-35, 136 _n._, 137 and _n._, 140, 142, 143 _n._, 144, etc. Moledi, Don Patricio, 111 Molesworth, Hender (Lieutenant-Governor of Jamaica), 237 _n._, 248, 249, 253-54, 255, 257 Molina, Conde de, 158, 197 _n._ Mompos (New Granada), 264 Mona, Island of, 20, 34 Monck, Christopher, second Duke of Albemarle (Governor of Jamaica), 255-57 " George, first Duke of Albemarle, 132, 133, 142, 143 _n._, 154, 159 Montagu, Edward, Earl of Sandwich, 103, 141, 142 Montemayor, Don Juan Francisco de, 82 Montespan, Marquise de, 218 _n._ Montserrat, 48, 129 Moralis, Don Pedro de, 105 Moreton, Joseph (Governor of Carolina), 252 Morgan, Captain (buccaneer), 235 " Colonel Blodre (buccaneer), 163 _n._, 182 _n._ " Colonel Edward, 120, 121, 129, 130, 133, 137 _n._, 143 " Sir Henry (buccaneer and Lieutenant-Governor of Jamaica), 73, 137 and _n._, 143-96, 204-6, 210, 212-16, 222, 226, 227, 228, etc. " Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas, 130 _n._, 137 _n._ Morris, Captain John (buccaneer), 137, 143, 161, 182 _n._, 273 Mosquito Coast, 19, 55, 76, 138, 245 Munden, Captain Robert, 118 Myngs, Captain Christopher, R.N., 98 and _n._, 99 and _n._, 105, 106, 107, 108 and _n._, 109, 121 Nata de los Santos (Darien), 136 _n._, 191 _n._ Nau, Jean-David (buccaneer), 124 and _n._, 156, 157 Navigation Laws, 99, 101 _n._, 102, 214, 271 "Navio del Oro," 17 Negro slave-trade, 36-38; _cf. also_ Clandestine trade Negroes, Assiento of, _see_ Assiento Netherlands, truce of 1609, 52 " wars of, _see_ War Nevill, Vice-Admiral John, 264, 265 Nevis, 47, 63, 86, 129, 229 New England, 86, 92, 93, 116, 201, 250, 272 Newfoundland, 35, 265 New Granada, 11, 16, 42, 232 New Providence Island (Bahamas), 237-39 New Spain, 3, 10, 21, 22, 32, 33, 46, 76, 90, 111, etc. New York, 129, 201, 271 Nicaragua, 19, 76, 137, 162 " Lake, 16, 138 Nimuegen, peace of, 240 Nombre de Dios (Darien), 14 _n._, 17 _n._, 40 Norris, Commodore Sir John, 265 O'Brien, William, Earl of Inchiquin (Governor of Jamaica), 257, 259 Ogeron, Bertrand d' (Governor of French Hispaniola), 118, 123-4, 216, 217, 218, 239 Olivares, Conde de, 9 _n._ Olonnais (buccaneer), _see_ Nau, Jean-David Orinoco River, 2, 32 _n._, 47, 85 _n._, 111 Oxenham, John, 40 "Oxford," 155 Pain, Captain Thomas (buccaneer), 238 and _n._, 239, 259 Paine, Peter, 233-34 and _n._, 238 _n._ Panama, city of, 10, 16, 17 and _n._, 18, 40, 97, 120, 136 _n._, 139, 140, etc. " Isthmus of, _see_ Darien " President of, _see_ Perez de Guzman Payta (Peru), 17, 188 Penalva, Conde de, 113 Penn, Admiral William, 85 and _n._, 86, 87, 93, 113 " William (proprietor of Penns.), 271 Pennsylvania, 271 Perez de Guzman, Don Juan (President of Panama), 139, 164, 170 _n._, 184 _n._, 186, 191 and _n._, 192 _n._ " Diego, 44 Pernambuco, 49 Perry, Mr. 61 _n._ Peru, 3, 10, 11, 16, 17, 22, 25, 32, 42, 46, etc. Petit, Captain (buccaneer), 274 Petit-Goave (Hispaniola), 118, 119, 124, 221, 241, 242, 243, 244, 247 and _n._, 248, etc. Philip II., King of Spain, 14, 30, 31, 34, 37, 39, 40, 46, 101 Philip III., King of Spain, 51 " IV., King of Spain, 9 _n._, 55, 141 Philippine Islands, 3, 21 "Piece of eight," value of, 77 _n._ "Pie de Palo," _see_ Heyn, Admiral Piet _and_ Le Clerc, François Pirates, depredations in the East, 270, 272 " laws against, _see_ Laws " trials of, 202, 203, 213-15, 218, 226, 228, 229 Pizarro, Francisco, 3, 46 Place, Sieur de la (Deputy-Governor of Tortuga), 117, 124 Plenneville, Clement de, 118 Poincy, Mons. de (Governor of the French West Indies), 63, 64, 80, 81 Pointis, Sieur de, _see_ Desjeans Pontchartrain, Louis Phelypeaux, Comte de, 262 Port de Paix (Hispaniola), 65, 247 _n._, 261 Porto Bello, 11, 14, 15, 16, 17 and _n._, 18, 19, 23, 76, 143-54, etc. Porto Rico, 2, 20 and _n._, 22, 31 _n._, 34, 35, 41, 46, 56, 57, etc. Port Royal (Carolina), 47, 252 " (Jamaica), 97, 98 and _n._, 101, 107, 108 and _n._, 111, 112, 121, 127, 128, etc. Pouançay, Mons. de (Governor of French Hispaniola), 216, 219, 220, 221, 222, 239, 240, 244, 247, 248, etc. Prince, Captain Lawrence (buccaneer), 162, 182 _n._ Privateers, laws against, _see_ Laws Providence Company, 55, 59 and _n._, 60, 61 _n._, 62, 64 _n._ Providence Island, 55 and _n._, 56 _n._, 64, 76, 86, 135-7, 139-40, 143, 163 and _n._, etc. Puerta de Plata (Hispaniola), 115 Puerto Cabello (Venezuela), 98 " Principe (Cuba), 117, 144 and _n._, 145, 222 Queen Regent of Spain, _see_ Marie-Anne of Austria Quito, province of, _see_ Equador Raleigh, Sir Walter, 34, 40, 41, 47, 89 Rancherias (New Granada), 16, 40 Rausset, Sieur de, _see_ Deschamps Raynal, Guillaume, Thomas-François, 283 Red Sea, pirates in, _see_ Pirates Rhode Island, 223, 251, 271 Rich, Henry, Earl of Holland, 59 " Robert, Earl of Warwick, 50 and _n._, 52 Rio Garta, 138 Rio de la Hacha (New Granada), 38, 40, 44, 93, 98 _n._, 161, 232, 267 Rio Nuevo (Jamaica), 91 Riskinner, Captain Nicholas (Governor of Tortuga), 62 Rivero Pardal, Manuel, 159, 161 Roanoke Island (Carolina), 47 Roatan Island, 76, 138 Robertson, William, 285 Rogers, Captain Thomas (buccaneer), 174 _n._ Ronquillo, Don Pedro, 223 _n._, 243 Row, Captain (buccaneer), 224 Roxas de Valle-Figueroa, Don Gabriel, 82-83 Ruyter, Admiral Michel-Adriaanszoon van, 129 Ryswick, treaty of, 266 _n._ Saba, 129, 130 and _n._ St. Augustine (Florida), 238, 251, 252 St. Christopher, _see_ St. Kitts St. Eustatius, 48, 67, 129, 130 and _n._, 133, 143 St. Jago de Cuba, 21, 42, 44, 91, 100, 104-6, 108 _n._, 109, 145, 159, etc. " de la Vega (Jamaica), 50, 85, 86, 234, 237 _n._ " de los Cavalleros (Hispaniola), 114-15, 258 St. Kitts, 47, 48, 50, 54, 56, 58, 60, 63, 67, 80, etc. St. Laurent, Mons. de, 244, 247 _n._ St. Malo, corsairs of, 48 St. Martins, 130 St. Thomas, 235-7 Salisbury, Earl of, _see_ Cecil, Robert Samana, 77 _n._ Samballas Islands, 228 _n._ "Samson," 36 _n._ Sancti Spiritus (Cuba), 134, 135 and _n._ San Domingo, city of, 9 _n._, 21, 22, 35, 37, 38, 39, 42, 43, 60, 86, etc. " French, _see_ Hispaniola Sandwich, Earl of, _see_ Montagu, Edward San Juan de Porto Rico, 21, 40, 41, 49 " d'Ulloa, _see_ Vera Cruz " River (Nicaragua), 16, 136, 138, 162 San Lorenzo, castle of (Chagre), 164-8, 170 _n._, 193, 194 and _n._ San Lucar, 11, 13, 15, 20 Santa Catalina, _see_ Providence Island Santa Cruz, 20, 48, 56, 117 Santa Marta (New Granada), 15, 40, 44, 93, 97, 161, 219-20, 226, 267 Santa Marta de la Vitoria (Tabasco), 139 _n._ " Tomas (Orinoco), 111, 222 Sasi Arnoldo, Don Christopher, 91, 105 "Satisfaction," 156 _n._ Sawkins, Captain (buccaneer), 225, 226 Scaliger, Joseph-Juste, 28 Scelle, Georges, 3, 285 Searle, Daniel (Governor of Barbadoes), 85 _n._ Searles, Captain Robert (buccaneer), 122, 131 Sedgwick, Major-General Robert, 96, 104 Seignelay, Marquis de, _see_ Colbert Seville, 11, 22, 26, 54, 103, 106, 109, 159 _n._, 207, etc. Sharp, Captain Bartholomew (buccaneer), 223, 224, 225 _n._, 228, 229, 245 Shirley, Sir Anthony, 85 "Sloop-trade," 27 Smart, Captain (buccaneer), 273 Smith, Major Samuel, 137, 139, 140 Sore, Jacques, 42, 45 Southey, Thomas, 283 Spain, colonial laws, 5, 10, 12, 13, 24 " colonial system, 1 _ff._ " commercial system, 6-13 " cruelties to English mariners, 29, 53-54, 88, 89 _n._, 207 " cruelties to Indians, 4, 9, 10, 32, 33, 89 _n._ " decline of, 1 _ff._, 46 " discovery and exploration in South America, 2-3 " exclusion of foreigners from Spanish Indies, 24 " privateers of, 207, 211 and _n._ " trade relations with England, 101-104 " treaty of 1667 with England, 141 " " 1670 with England, 196-7, 200, 209 " truce of 1609 with the Netherlands, _see_ Netherlands " venality of Spanish colonial governors, 26 _n._ " weakness of Spanish ships, 23 Spragge, Captain, R.N., 254 Stanley, Captain (buccaneer), 140 Stapleton, Sir William (Governor of Leeward Islands), 234, 236, 237 Stedman, Captain (buccaneer), 131 and _n._ Style, John, 153 _n._ Tabasco River, 138, 139 _n._ Tavoga Island, 179, 188 Tavogilla Island, 179, 188 Taylor, John, 102 Terrier, Jean, 42 Thibault, 81-82, 83 _n._ Thomas, Dalby, 33 Thornbury, Walter, 284 Thurloe, John (Secretary of State), 104 Thurston, Captain (buccaneer), 201 Tobago, 15, 48, 67, 131, 268 Toledo, Don Federico de, 54, 58 Tolu (New Granada), 97, 267 Tortola, 130 Tortuga, 2, 55, 58-66, 69, 70, 73, 77, 80, 81, 113, etc. Trade, clandestine, _see_ Clandestine trade Treasure fleets, 13-24, 31, 85; _cf. also_ Flota _and_ Galleons Treval, Mons. de, 82 Trinidad, 2, 15, 32 _n._, 46, 131, 222 "Trompense, La," 233-36, 238 _n._, 248, 249, 251 _n._ " La Nouvelle," 236 _n_. Truxillo (Honduras), 21, 22, 50, 77, 138, 222 Turrialva (Costa Rica), 136 Utrecht, Treaty of, 272 Vache, Isle la, _see_ Isle la Vache _Vaisseaux de registre_, 11, 22 and _n._ Vaissière, Pierre de, 284 Valladolid (Yucatan), 210 Valle-Figueroa, Don Gabriel Roxas de, _see_ Roxas de Valle-Figueroa Van Horn, Captain Nicholas (buccaneer), 241-43, 248 Vaughan, John, Lord (Governor of Jamaica), 205, 211, 212-22, 232 Venables, General Robert, 85 and _n._, 86, 87, 88, 89, 96, 113 Venezuela, 16, 23, 156 Venta Cruz (Darien), 17 _n._, 164, 170 _n._, 174 and _n._, 177 _n._, 192 _n._, 193 Vera Cruz (New Spain), 11, 12 _n._, 14, 21, 22, 38, 49, 103, 109, 111, etc., 241 Veragua, 136 and _n._ Vernon, Admiral Edward, 195 Verpre, Captain (buccaneer), 274 Vervins, Treaty of, 48 _Viande boucannée_, 66 Vigneron, Captain (buccaneer), 274 Villa de Mosa (Tabasco), 138 and _n._ Villalba y Toledo, Don Francisco de, 77 Villars, Marquis de, 9 _n._ Virgin Islands, 40, 235, 236 Virginia, 47, 51, 54, 112, 129, 201, 207, 272 War between England and France, 1666-67, 131, 141 War between England and Netherlands, 1665-67, 127-41 War between France and Netherlands, 1674-78, 219 _ff._ War of the Spanish Succession, 271-72 " Succession of the Palatinate, 258 _ff._ Watson, Sir Francis, 257 Watts, Elias (Governor of Tortuga), 114, 116 and _n._, 117 Watts, Colonel William (Governor of St. Kitts), 130 _n._ Weiss, Charles, 285 West Indies, _see_ Indies, West Whitstone, Sir Thomas (buccaneer), 140, 273 Wilgress, Captain, 201 William III., King of England, 257, 258 Williams, Captain John, _alias_ Yankey (buccaneer), 235, 254 _n._, 274 " Captain Morris (buccaneer), 122 and _n._ Williamson, Sir Joseph (Secretary of State), 213 _n._, 217 Willoughby, William, Lord (Governor of Barbadoes), 131 Wilmot, Commodore Robert, 261 Windebank, Sir Francis (Secretary of State), 53 Windsor, Thomas, Lord (Governor of Jamaica), 97, 101 and _n._, 104, 105, 106-7, 111, 117, 118, 137 Winslow, Edward (Commissioner of Jamaica), 85 _n._ Winter, Sir William, 40 Witherborn, Captain Francis (buccaneer), 202 Wormeley, Captain Christopher (Governor of Tortuga), 59, 62 and _n._ Yallahs, Captain (buccaneer) 201, 211 "Yankey," _see_ Williams, Captain John Yucatan, 2, 23, 82 _n._, 208, 210, 211 Zuniga, Don Pedro de, 51 
15675	----	provided by canadiana.org (http://www.canadiana.org/ECO/mtq?doc=34674) A VOYAGE TO NEW HOLLAND ETC. IN THE YEAR 1699. Wherein are described, The Canary Islands, the Isles of Mayo and St. Jago. The Bay of All-Saints, with the forts and town of Bahia in Brazil. Cape Salvador. The winds on the Brazilian coast. Abrolho Shoals. A table of all the variations observed in this voyage. Occurrences near the Cape of Good Hope. The course to New Holland. Shark's Bay. The isles and coast, etc. of New Holland. Their inhabitants, manners, customs, trade, etc. Their harbours, soil, beasts, birds, fish, etc. Trees, plants, fruits, etc. ... Illustrated with several maps and draughts: also divers birds, fishes and plants not found in this part of the world, curiously engraven on copper plates. ... BY CAPTAIN WILLIAM DAMPIER. ... THE THIRD EDITION. ... LONDON, Printed for James and John Knapton at the Crown in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1729. ... CONTENTS. DEDICATION. THE PREFACE. CHAPTER 1. The Author's departure from the Downs. A caution to those who sail in the Channel. His arrival at the Canary Islands. Santa Cruz in Tenerife; the road and town, and Spanish wreck. Laguna Town lake and country; and Oratavia town and road. Of the wines and other commodities of Tenerife, etc. and the governors at Laguna and Santa Cruz. Of the winds in these seas. The Author's arrival at Mayo. Of the Cape Verde Islands; its salt pond compared with that of Salt Tortuga; its trade for salt, and frape-boats. Its vegetables, silk-cotton, etc. Its soil, and towns; its guinea-hens and other fowls, beasts, and fish. Of the sea turtles, etc. laying in the wet season. Of the natives, their trade and livelihood. The Author's arrival at St. Jago; Praya and St. Jago Town. Of the inhabitants and their commodities. Of the custard-apple, St. Jago Road. Fogo. CHAPTER 2. The Author's deliberation on the sequel of his voyage, and departure from St. Jago. His course, and the winds, etc. in crossing the Line. He stands away for the Bay of All-Saints in Brazil; and why. His arrival on that coast and in the bay. Of the several forts, the road, situation, town, and buildings of Bahia. Of its Governor, ships and merchants; and commodities to and from Europe. Claying of sugar. The season for the European ships, and coir cables: of their Guinea trade and of the coasting trade, and whale killing. Of the inhabitants of Bahia; their carrying in hammocks: their artificers, crane for goods, and negro slaves. Of the country about Bahia, its soil and product. Its timber-trees; the sapiera, vermiatico, commesserie, guitteba, serrie, and mangroves. The bastard-coco, its nuts and cables; and the silk-cotton-trees. The Brazilian fruits, oranges, etc. Of the soursops, cashews and jennipahs. Of their peculiar fruits, arisahs, mericasahs, petangos, petumbos, mungaroos, muckishaws, ingwas, otees, and musteran-de-ovas. Of the palmberries, physick-nuts, mendibees, etc. and their roots and herbs, etc. Of their wildfowl, macaws, parrots, etc. The yemma, carrion-crow and chattering-crow, bill-bird, curreso, turtledove and wild pigeons; the jenetee, clocking-hen, crab-catcher, galden, and black heron: the ducks, widgeon and teal; and ostriches to the southward, and of the dunghill-fowls. Of their cattle, horses, etc. Leopards and tigers. Of their serpents; the rattlesnake, small green snake. Amphisbaena, small black and small grey snake; the great land-, and the great watersnake; and of the water-dog. Of their sea-fish and turtle; and of St. Paul's Town. CHAPTER 3. The Author's stay and business at Bahia: of the winds, and seasons of the year there. His departure for New Holland. Cape Salvador. The winds on the Brazilian coast; and Abrolho Shoal; fish and birds: the shearwater bird, and cooking of sharks. Excessive number of birds about a dead whale; of the pintado bird, and the petrel, etc. Of a bird that shows the Cape of Good Hope to be near: of the sea-reckonings, and variations: and a table of all the variations observed in this voyage. Occurrences near the Cape; and the Author's passing by it. Of the westerly winds beyond it: a storm, and its presages. The Author's course to New Holland; and signs of approaching it. Another Abrolho Shoal and storm, and the Author's arrival on part of New Holland. That part described, and Shark's Bay, where he first anchors. Of the land there, vegetables, birds, etc. A particular sort of iguana: fish, and beautiful shells; turtle, large shark, and water-serpents. The Author's removing to another part of New Holland: dolphins, whales, and more sea-serpents: and of a passage or strait suspected here: of the vegetables, birds, and fish. He anchors on a third part of New Holland, and digs wells, but brackish. Of the inhabitants there, and great tides, the vegetables and animals, etc. MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. MAP. CAPTAIN DAMPIER'S NEW VOYAGE TO NEW HOLLAND ETC. IN 1699 ETC. TABLE 1. CANARY ISLANDS. TABLE 2. CAPE VERDE ISLANDS. TABLE 3. BRAZIL. BIRDS OF THE VOYAGE: FIGURE 1: THE PINTADO BIRD. FIGURE 2: THIS VERY MUCH RESEMBLES THE GUARAUNA, DESCRIBED AND FIGURED BY PISO. TABLE 4. NEW HOLLAND. BIRDS OF NEW HOLLAND: FIGURE 3: THE HEAD AND GREATEST PART OF THE NECK OF THIS BIRD IS RED AND THEREIN DIFFERS FROM THE AVOFETTA OF ITALY. FIGURE 4: THE BILL AND LEGS OF THIS BIRD ARE OF A BRIGHT RED. FIGURE 5: A NODDY OF NEW HOLLAND. FIGURE 6: A COMMON NODDY. FISH OF NEW HOLLAND: FIGURE 1: THE MONKFISH. FIGURE 3: A FISH TAKEN ON THE COAST OF NEW HOLLAND. FIGURE 6: A REMORA TAKEN STICKING TO SHARKS BACKS. FIGURE 8: A CUTTLE TAKEN NEAR NEW HOLLAND. FIGURE 9: A FLYING-FISH TAKEN IN THE OPEN SEA. PLANTS FOUND IN BRAZIL. TABLE 1 PLANTS. PLANTS FOUND IN NEW HOLLAND. TABLE 2 PLANTS. PLANTS FOUND IN NEW HOLLAND. TABLE 3 PLANTS. PLANTS FOUND IN NEW HOLLAND AND TIMOR. TABLE 4 PLANTS. PLANTS FOUND IN THE SEA NEAR NEW GUINEA. TABLE 5 PLANTS. FISH OF NEW HOLLAND. PLATE 3 FISHES: FIGURE 4: A FISH CALLED BY THE SEAMEN THE OLD WIFE. FIGURE 5: A FISH OF THE TUNNY KIND TAKEN ON THE COAST OF NEW HOLLAND. DOLPHINS. PLATE 2 FISHES: FIGURE 2: THE DOLPHIN OF THE ANCIENTS TAKEN NEAR THE LINE, CALLED BY OUR SEAMEN A PORPOISE. FIGURE 7: A DOLPHIN AS IT IS USUALLY CALLED BY OUR SEAMEN TAKEN IN THE OPEN SEA. A VOYAGE TO NEW HOLLAND, ETC. IN THE YEAR 1699. DEDICATION. To the Right Honourable Thomas, Earl of Pembroke, Lord President of Her Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council. My Lord, The honour I had of being employed in the service of his late Majesty of illustrious memory, at the time when Your Lordship presided at the Admiralty, gives me the boldness to ask your protection of the following papers. They consist of some remarks made upon very distant climates, which I should have the vanity to think altogether new, could I persuade myself they had escaped Your Lordship's knowledge. However I have been so cautious of publishing any thing in my whole book that is generally known that I have denied myself the pleasure of paying the due honours to Your Lordship's name in the Dedication. I am ashamed, My Lord, to offer you so imperfect a present, having not time to set down all the memoirs of my last voyage: but, as the particular service I have now undertaken hinders me from finishing this volume, so I hope it will give me an opportunity of paying my respects to Your Lordship in a new one. The world is apt to judge of everything by the success; and whoever has ill fortune will hardly be allowed a good name. This, My Lord, was my unhappiness in my late expedition in the Roebuck, which foundered through perfect age near the island of Ascension. I suffered extremely in my reputation by that misfortune; though I comfort myself with the thoughts that my enemies could not charge any neglect upon me. And since I have the honour to be acquitted by Your Lordship's judgment I should be very humble not to value myself upon so complete a vindication. This and a world of other favours which I have been so happy as to receive from Your Lordship's goodness, do engage me to be with an everlasting respect, My Lord, Your Lordship's most faithful and obedient servant, WILL. DAMPIER. THE PREFACE. The favourable reception my two former volumes of voyages and descriptions have already met with in the world gives me reason to hope that, notwithstanding the objections which have been raised against me by prejudiced persons, this third volume likewise may in some measure be acceptable to candid and impartial readers who are curious to know the nature of the inhabitants, animals, plants, soil, etc. in those distant countries, which have either seldom or not at all been visited by any Europeans. It has almost always been the fate of those who have made new discoveries to be disesteemed and slightly spoken of by such as either have had no true relish and value for the things themselves that are discovered, or have had some prejudice against the persons by whom the discoveries were made. It would be vain therefore and unreasonable in me to expect to escape the censure of all, or to hope for better treatment than far worthier persons have met with before me. But this satisfaction I am sure of having, that the things themselves in the discovery of which I have been employed are most worthy of our diligentest search and inquiry; being the various and wonderful works of God in different parts of the world: and however unfit a person I may be in other respects to have undertaken this task, yet at least I have given a faithful account, and have found some things undiscovered by any before, and which may at least be some assistance and direction to better qualified persons who shall come after me. It has been objected against me by some that my accounts and descriptions of things are dry and jejune, not filled with variety of pleasant matter to divert and gratify the curious reader. How far this is true I must leave to the world to judge. But if I have been exactly and strictly careful to give only true relations and descriptions of things (as I am sure I have) and if my descriptions be such as may be of use not only to myself (which I have already in good measure experienced) but also to others in future voyages; and likewise to such readers at home as are more desirous of a plain and just account of the true nature and state of the things described than of a polite and rhetorical narrative: I hope all the defects in my style will meet with an easy and ready pardon. Others have taxed me with borrowing from other men's journals; and with insufficiency, as if I was not myself the author of what I write but published things digested and drawn up by others. As to the first part of this objection I assure the reader I have taken nothing from any man without mentioning his name, except some very few relations and particular observations received from credible persons who desired not to be named; and these I have always expressly distinguished in my books from what I relate as of my own observing. And as to the latter I think it so far from being a diminution to one of my education and employment to have what I write revised and corrected by friends that, on the contrary, the best and most eminent authors are not ashamed to own the same thing, and look upon it as an advantage. Lastly I know there are some who are apt to slight my accounts and descriptions of things as if it was an easy matter and of little or no difficulty to do all that I have done, to visit little more than the coasts of unknown countries, and make short and imperfect observations of things only near the shore. But whoever is experienced in these matters, or considers things impartially, will be of a very different opinion. And anyone who is sensible how backward and refractory the seamen are apt to be in long voyages when they know not whither they are going, how ignorant they are of the nature of the winds and the shifting seasons of the monsoons, and how little even the officers themselves generally are skilled in the variation of the needle and the use of the azimuth compass; besides the hazard of all outward accidents in strange and unknown seas: anyone, I say, who is sensible of these difficulties will be much more pleased at the discoveries and observations I have been able to make than displeased with me that I did not make more. Thus much I thought necessary to premise in my own vindication against the objections that have been made to my former performances. But not to trouble the reader any further with matters of this nature; what I have more to offer shall be only in relation to the following voyage. For the better apprehending the course of this voyage and the situation of the places mentioned in it I have here, as in the former volumes, caused a map to be engraven with a pricked line representing to the eye the whole thread of the voyage at one view, besides charts and figures of particular places, to make the descriptions I have given of them more intelligible and useful. Moreover, which I had not opportunity of doing in my former voyages; having now had in the ship with me a person skilled in drawing, I have by this means been enabled, for the greater satisfaction of the curious reader, to present him with exact cuts and figures of several of the principal and most remarkable of those birds, beasts, fishes and plants, which are described in the following narrative; and also of several which, not being able to give any better or so good an account of, as by causing them to be exactly engraven, the reader will not find any further description of them, but only that they were found in such or such particular countries. The plants themselves are in the hands of the ingenious Dr. Woodward. I could have caused many others to be drawn in like manner but that I resolved to confine myself to such only as had some very remarkable difference in the shape of their principal parts from any that are found in Europe. I have besides several birds and fishes ready drawn, which I could not put into the present volume because they were found in countries to the description whereof the following narrative does not reach. For, being obliged to prepare for another voyage sooner than I at first expected, I have not been able to continue the ensuing narrative any further than to my departure from the coast of New Holland. But if it please God that I return again safe, the reader may expect a continuation of this voyage from my departure from New Holland till the foundering of my ship near the island of Ascension. In the meantime to make the narrative in some measure complete I shall here add a summary abstract of the latter part of the voyage, whereof I have not had time to draw out of my journals a full and particular account at large. Departing therefore from the coast of New Holland in the beginning of September 1699 we arrived at Timor September 15 and anchored off that island. On the 24th we obtained a small supply of fresh water from the governor of a Dutch fort and factory there; we found also there a Portuguese settlement and were kindly treated by them. On the 3rd of December we arrived on the coast of New Guinea; where we found good fresh water and had commerce with the inhabitants of a certain island called Pulo Sabuda. After which, passing to the northward, we ranged along the coast to the easternmost part of New Guinea, which I found does not join to the mainland of New Guinea, but is an island, as I have described it in my map, and called it New Britain. It is probable this island may afford many rich commodities, and the natives may be easily brought to commerce. But the many difficulties I at this time met with, the want of convenience to clean my ship, the fewness of my men, their desire to hasten home, and the danger of continuing in these circumstances in seas where the shoals and coasts were utterly unknown and must be searched out with much caution and length of time, hindered me from prosecuting any further at present my intended search. What I have been able to do in this matter for the public service will, I hope, be candidly received; and no difficulties shall discourage me from endeavouring to promote the same end whenever I have an opportunity put into my hands. May 18 in our return we arrived at Timor. June 21 we passed by part of the island Java. July 4 we anchored in Batavia Road, and I went ashore, visited the Dutch General, and desired the privilege of buying provisions that I wanted, which was granted me. In this road we lay till the 17th of October following, when, having fitted the ship, recruited myself with provisions, filled all my water, and the season of the year for returning towards Europe being come, I set sail from Batavia, and on the 19th of December made the Cape of Good Hope, whence departing January 11 we made the island of St. Helena on the 31st; and February the 21st the island of Ascension; near to which my ship, having sprung a leak which could not be stopped, foundered at sea; with much difficulty we got ashore where we lived on goats and turtle; and on the 26th of February found, to our great comfort, on the south-east side of a high mountain, about half a mile from its top, a spring of fresh water. I returned to England in the Canterbury East India ship. For which wonderful deliverance from so many and great dangers I think myself bound to return continual thanks to Almighty God; whose divine providence if it shall please to bring me safe again to my native country from my present intended voyage; I hope to publish a particular account of all the material things I observed in the several places which I have now but barely mentioned. ... A VOYAGE TO TERRA AUSTRALIS. 1699. CHAPTER 1. DEPARTURE AND PROVISIONING EN ROUTE. THE AUTHOR'S DEPARTURE FROM THE DOWNS. I sailed from the Downs early on Saturday, January 14, 1699, with a fair wind, in His Majesty's Ship the Roebuck; carrying but 12 guns in this voyage and 50 men and boys with 20 months' provision. We had several of the King's ships in company, bound for Spithead and Plymouth, and by noon we were off Dungeness. A CAUTION TO THOSE WHO SAIL IN THE CHANNEL. We parted from them that night, and stood down the Channel, but found ourselves next morning nearer the French coast than we expected; Cape de Hague bearing south-east and by east 6 leagues. There were many other ships, some nearer, some farther off the French coast, who all seemed to have gone nearer to it than they thought they should. My master, who was somewhat troubled at it at first, was not displeased however to find that he had company in his mistake: which as I have heard is a very common one, and fatal to many ships. The occasion of it is the not allowing for the change of the variation since the making of the charts; which Captain Halley has observed to be very considerable. I shall refer the reader to his own account of it which he caused to be published in a single sheet of paper, purposely for a caution to such as pass to and fro the English Channel. And my own experience thus confirming to me the usefulness of such a caution I was willing to take this occasion of helping towards the making it the more public. Not to trouble the reader with every day's run, nor with the winds or weather (but only in the remoter parts, where it may be more particularly useful) standing away from Cape la Hague, we made the start about 5 that afternoon; which being the last land we saw of England, we reckoned our departure from thence: though we had rather have taken it from the Lizard, if the hazy weather would have suffered us to have seen it. HIS ARRIVAL AT THE CANARY ISLANDS. The first land we saw after we were out of the Channel was Cape Finisterre, which we made on the 19th; and on the 28th made Lancerota, one of the Canary Islands of which, and of Allegrance, another of them, I have here given the sights, as they both appeared to us at two several bearings and distances. SANTA CRUZ IN TENERIFE; THE ROAD AND TOWN, AND SPANISH WRECK. We were now standing away for the island Tenerife where I intended to take in some wine and brandy for my voyage. On Sunday, half an hour past 3 in the afternoon, we made the island and crowded in with all our sails till five; when the north-east point of the isle bore west-south-west distance 7 leagues. But, being then so far off that I could not expect to get in before night, I lay by till next morning, deliberating whether I should put in at Santa Cruz, or at Oratavia, the one on the east, the other on the west side of the island; which lies mostly north and south; and these are the principal ports on each side. I chose Santa Cruz as the better harbour (especially at this time of the year) and as best furnished with that sort of wine which I had occasion to take in for my voyage: so there I come to an anchor January 30th, in 33 fathom water, black slimy ground; about half a mile from the shore; from which distance I took the sight of the town. In the road ships must ride in 30, 40, or 50 fathom water, not above half a mile from the shore at farthest: and if there are many ships they must ride close one by another. The shore is generally high land and in most places steep too. This road lies so open to the east that winds from that side make a great swell, and very bad going ashore in boats: the ships that ride here are then often forced to put to sea, and sometimes to cut or slip their anchors, not being able to weigh them. The best and smoothest landing is in a small sandy cove, about a mile to the north-east of the road, where there is good water, with which ships that lade here are supplied; and many times ships that lade at Oratavia, which is the chief port for trade, send their boats hither for water. That is a worse port for westerly than this is for easterly winds; and then all ships that are there put to sea. Between this watering-place and Santa Cruz are two little forts; which with some batteries scattered along the coast command the road. Santa Cruz itself is a small unwalled town fronting the sea, guarded with two other forts to secure the road. There are about 200 houses in the town, all two stories high, strongly built with stone and covered with pantile. It hath two convents and one church, which are the best buildings in the town. The forts here could not secure the Spanish galleons from Admiral Blake, though they hauled in close under the main fort. Many of the inhabitants that are now living remember that action in which the English battered the town, and did it much damage; and the marks of the shot still remain in the fort walls. The wrecks of the galleons that were burnt here lie in 15 fathom water: and it is said that most of the plate lies there, though some of it was hastily carried ashore at Blake's coming in sight. LAGUNA TOWN LAKE AND COUNTRY; AND ORATAVIA TOWN AND ROAD. Soon after I had anchored I went ashore here to the Governor of the town, who received me very kindly and invited me to dine with him the next day. I returned on board in the evening, and went ashore again with two of my officers the next morning; hoping to get up the hill time enough to see Laguna, the principal town, and to be back again to dine with the Governor of Santa Cruz; for I was told that Laguna was but 3 miles off. The road is all the way up a pretty steep hill; yet not so steep but that carts go up and down laden. There are public houses scattering by the wayside, where we got some wine. The land on each side seemed to be but rocky and dry; yet in many places we saw spots of green flourishing corn. At farther distances there were small vineyards by the sides of the mountains, intermixed with abundance of waste rocky land, unfit for cultivation, which afforded only dildo-bushes. It was about 7 or 8 in the morning when we set out from Santa Cruz; and, it being fair clear weather, the sun shone very bright and warmed us sufficiently before we got to the city Laguna; which we reached about 10 o'clock, all sweaty and tired, and were glad to refresh ourselves with a little wine in a sorry tippling-house: but we soon found out one of the English merchants that resided here, who entertained us handsomely at dinner, and in the afternoon showed us the town. Laguna is a pretty large well-compacted town, and makes a very agreeable prospect. It stands part of it against a hill, and part in a level. The houses have mostly strong walls built with stone and covered with pantile. They are not uniform, yet they appear pleasant enough. There are many fair buildings; among which are 2 parish churches, 2 nunneries, a hospital, 4 convents, and some chapels; besides many gentlemen's houses. The convents are those of St. Austin, St. Dominick, St. Francis, and St. Diego. The two churches have pretty high square steeples, which top the rest of the buildings. The streets are not regular, yet they are mostly spacious and pretty handsome; and near the middle of the town is a large parade, which has good buildings about it. There is a strong prison on one side of it; near which is a large conduit of good water, that supplies all the town. They have many gardens which are set round with oranges, limes, and other fruits: in the middle of which are pot-herbs, salading, flowers, etc. And indeed, if the inhabitants were curious this way, they might have very pleasant gardens: for as the town stands high from the sea on the brow of a plain that is all open to the east, and hath consequently the benefit of the true tradewind, which blows here and is most commonly fair; so there are seldom wanting at this town brisk, cooling, and refreshing breezes all the day. On the back of the town there is a large plain of 3 or 4 leagues in length and 2 miles wide, producing a thick kindly sort of grass, which looked green and very pleasant when I was there, like our meadows in England in the spring. On the east side of this plain, very near the back of the town, there is a natural lake or pond of fresh water. It is about half a mile in circumference; but being stagnant, it is only used for cattle to drink of. In the wintertime several sorts of wildfowl resort hither, affording plenty of game to the inhabitants of Laguna. This city is called Laguna from hence; for that word in Spanish signifies a lake or pond. The plain is bounded on the west, the north-west and the south-west with high steep hills; as high above this plain as this is above the sea; and it is from the foot of one of these mountains that the water of the conduit which supplies the town is conveyed over the plain in troughs of stone raised upon pillars. And indeed, considering the situation of the town, its large prospect to the east (for from hence you see the Grand Canary) its gardens, cool arbors, pleasant plain, green fields, the pond and aqueduct, and its refreshing breezes; it is a very delightful dwelling, especially for such as have not business that calls them far and often from home: for, the island being generally mountainous, steep, and craggy, full of risings and fallings, it is very troublesome travelling up and down in it, unless in the cool of the mornings and evenings: and mules and asses are most used by them, both for riding and carriage, as fittest for the stony, uneven roads. Beyond the mountains, on the south-west side, still further up, you may see from the town and plain a small peaked hill, overlooking the rest. This is that which is called the Pike of Tenerife, so much noted for its height: but we saw it here at so great a disadvantage, by reason of the nearness of the adjacent mountains to us, that it looked inconsiderable in respect to its fame. OF THE WINES AND OTHER COMMODITIES OF TENERIFE, ETC. The true malmsey wine grows in this island; and this here is said to be the best of its kind in the world. Here is also canary wine, and verdona, or green wine. The canary grows chiefly on the west side of the island; and therefore is commonly sent to Oratavia; which being the chief seaport for trade in the island, the principal English merchants reside there, with their consul; because we have a great trade for this wine. I was told that that town is bigger than Laguna; that it has but one church, but many convents: that the port is but ordinary at best and is very bad when the north-west winds blow. These norwesters give notice of their coming by a great sea that tumbles in on the shore for some time before they come, and by a black sky in the north-west. Upon these signs ships either get up their anchors, or slip their cables and put to sea, and ply off and on till the weather is over. Sometimes they are forced to do so 2 or 3 times before they can take in their lading; which it is hard to do here in the fairest weather: and for fresh water they send, as I have said, to Santa Cruz. Verdona is green, strong-bodied wine, harsher and sharper than canary. It is not so much esteemed in Europe, but is exported to the West Indies, and will keep best in hot countries; for which reason I touched here to take in some of it for my voyage. This sort of wine is made chiefly on the east side of the island, and shipped off at Santa Cruz. Besides these wines, which are yearly vended in great plenty from the Canary Islands (chiefly from Grand Canary, Tenerife, and Palma) here is store of grain, as wheat, barley, and maize, which they often transport to other places. They have also some beans and peas, and coches, a sort of grain much like maize, sowed mostly to fatten land. They have papaws, which I shall speak more of hereafter; apples, pears, plums, cherries, and excellent peaches, apricots, guavas, pomegranates, citrons, oranges, lemons, limes, pumpkins, onions the best in the world, cabbages, turnips, potatoes, etc. They are also well stocked with horses, cows, asses, mules, sheep, goats, hogs, conies, and plenty of deer. The Lancerota horses are said to be the most mettlesome, fleet, and loyal horses that are. Lastly here are many fowls, as cocks, and hens, ducks, pigeons, partridges, etc. with plenty of fish, as mackerel, etc. All the Canary Islands have of these commodities and provisions more or less: but as Lancerota is most famed for horses, and Grand Canary, Tenerife, and Palma for wines, Tenerife especially for the best malmsey (for which reason these 3 islands have the chief trade) so is Forteventura for dunghill-fowls, and Gomera for deer. Fowls and other eatables are dear on the trading islands; but very plentiful and cheap on the other; and therefore it is best for such ships that are going out on long voyages, and who design to take in but little wine, to touch rather at these last; where also they may be supplied with wine enough, good and cheap: and, for my own part, if I had known before I came hither, I should have gone rather to one of those islands than to Tenerife: but enough of this. AND THE GOVERNORS AT LAGUNA AND SANTA CRUZ. It is reported they can raise 12,000 armed men on this island. The governor or general (as he is called) of all the Canary Islands lives at Laguna: his name is Don Pedro de Ponto. He is a native of this island, and was not long since President of Panama in the South Seas: who bringing some very rich pearls from thence, which he presented to the Queen of Spain, was therefore, as it is said, made general of the Canary Islands. The Grand Canary is an island much superior to Tenerife both in bulk and value; but this gentleman chooses rather to reside in this his native island. He has the character of a very worthy person; and governs with moderation and justice, being very well beloved. One of his deputies was the governor of Santa Cruz, with whom I was to have dined; but staying so long at Laguna, I came but time enough to sup with him. He is a civil, discreet man. He resides in the main fort close by the sea. There is a sentinel stands at his door; and he has a few servants to wait on him. I was treated in a large dark lower room, which has but one small window. There were about 200 muskets hung up against the walls, and some pikes; no wainscot, hangings, nor much furniture. There was only a small old table, a few old chairs, and 2 or 3 pretty long forms to sit on. Having supped with him I invited him on board, and went off in my boat. The next morning he came aboard with another gentleman in his company, attended by 2 servants: but he was presently seasick and so much out of order that he could scarce eat or drink anything, but went quickly ashore again. OF THE WINDS IN THESE SEAS. Having refreshed my men ashore, and taken in what we had occasion for, I sailed away from Santa Cruz on February 4 in the afternoon; hastening out all I could, because the north-east winds growing stormy made so great sea that the ship was scarce safe in the road; and I was glad to get out, though we left behind several goods we had bought and paid for: for a boat could not go ashore; and the stress was so great in weighing anchor that the cable broke. I designed next for the Island of Mayo, one of the Cape Verde Islands; and ran away with a strong north-east wind right before it all that night and the next day, at the rate of 10 or 11 miles an hour; when it slackened to a more moderate gale. The Canary Islands are, for their latitude, within the usual verge of the true or general tradewind; which I have observed to be, on this side the equator, north-easterly: but then, lying not far from the African shore, they are most subject to a north wind, which is the coasting and constant trade, sweeping that coast down as low as to Cape Verde; which, spreading in breadth, takes in mostly the Canary Islands; though it be there interrupted frequently with the true tradewind, north-west winds, or other shifts of wind that islands are subject to; especially where they lie many together. The Pike of Tenerife, which had generally been clouded while we lay at Santa Cruz, appeared now all white with snow, hovering over the other hills; but their height made it seem the less considerable; for it looks most remarkable to ships that are to the westward of it. We had brisk north-north-east and north-east winds from Tenerife, and saw flying-fish, and a great deal of sea-thistle weed floating. By the 9th of February at noon we were in the latitude of 15 degrees 4 minutes so we steered away west-north-west for the island of Mayo, being by judgment not far to the east of it, and at 8 o'clock in the evening lay by till day. The wind was then at west by south, and so it continued all night, fair weather, and a small easy gale. All these were great signs, that we were near some land, after having had such constant brisk winds before. In the morning after sunrise we saw the island at about 4 leagues distance. But it was so hazy over it that we could see but a small part of it; yet even by that part I knew it to be the isle of Mayo. See how it appeared to us at several views as we were compassing the east and south-east and south of it, to get to the road, on the south-west of it, and the road itself. THE AUTHOR'S ARRIVAL AT MAYO. I got not in till the next day, February 11, when I come to an anchor in the road, which is the leeward part of the island; for it is a general rule never to anchor to windward of an island between the tropics. We anchored at 11 o'clock in 14 fathom clean sand, and very smooth water, about three-quarters of a mile from the shore, in the same place where I anchored in my voyage round the world; and found riding here the Newport of London, a merchantman, Captain Barefoot commander, who welcomed me with 3 guns and I returned one for thanks. He came from Fayal, one of the western islands; and had store of wine and brandy aboard. He was taking in salt to carry to Newfoundland, and was very glad to see one of the King's ships, being before our coming afraid of pirates, which of late years had much infested this and the rest of the Cape Verde Islands. I have given some account of the island of Mayo and of other of these islands in my Voyage round the World, but I shall now add some further observations that occurred to me in this voyage. The island of Mayo is about 7 leagues in circumference, of a roundish form, with many small rocky points shooting out into the sea a mile or more. Its latitude is 15 degrees north, and as you sail about the isle, when you come pretty nigh the shore, you will see the water breaking off from those points; which you must give a berth to and avoid them. I sailed at this time two parts in three round the island, but saw nothing dangerous besides these points; and they all showed themselves by the breaking of the water: yet it is reported that on the north and north-north-west side there are dangerous shoals that lie farther off at sea; but I was not on that side. There are 2 hills on this island of a considerable height; one pretty bluff, the other peaked at top. The rest of the island is pretty level and of a good height from the sea. The shore clear round hath sandy bays between the rocky points I spoke of, and the whole island is a very dry sort of soil. OF THE CAPE VERDE ISLANDS; ITS SALT POND COMPARED WITH THAT OF SALT TORTUGA; ITS TRADE FOR SALT, AND FRAPE-BOATS. On the west side of the isle where the road for ships is, there is a large sandy bay and a sandbank of about 40 paces wide within it which runs along the shore 2 or 3 miles; within which there is a large salina or salt pond, contained between the sandbank and the hills beyond it. The whole salina is about 2 miles in length, and half a mile wide; but above one half of it its commonly dry. The north end only of the pond never wants water, producing salt from November till May, which is here the dry season of the year. The water which yields this salt works in from out of the sea through a hole in the sandbank before mentioned, like a sluice, and that only in spring tides when it fills the pond more or less, according to the height of the tides. If there is any salt in the ponds when the flush of water comes in it presently dissolves: but then in 2 or 3 days after it begins to kern; and so continues kerning till either all or the greatest part of the salt water is congealed or kerned; or till a fresh supply of it comes in again from the sea. This water is known to come in only at that one passage on the north part of the pond; where also it is deepest. It was at a spring of the new moon when I was there; and I was told that it comes in at no other time but at the new moon spring tides; but why that should be I can't guess. They who come hither to lade salt rake it up as it kerns, and lay it in heaps on the dry land, before the water breaks in anew: and this is observable of this salt pond, that the salt kerns only in the dry season, contrary to the salt ponds in the West Indies, particularly those of the island Salt Tortuga, which I have formerly mentioned, for they never kern there till the rains come in about April; and continue to do so in May, June, July etc. while the wet season lasts; and not without some good shower of rain first: but the reason also of this difference between the salt ponds of Mayo and those of the West Indies why these should kern in the wet season, and the former in the dry season, I shall leave to philosophers. Our nation drives here a great trade for salt, and have commonly a man-of-war here for the guard of our ships and barks that come to take it in; of which I have been informed that in some years there have not been less than 100 in a year. It costs nothing but men's labour to rake it together, and wheel it out of the pond, except the carriage: and that also is very cheap; the inhabitants having plenty of asses for which they have little to do besides carrying the salt from the ponds to the seaside at the season when ships are here. The inhabitants lade and drive their asses themselves, being very glad to be employed; for they have scarce any other trade but this to get a penny by. The pond is not above half a mile from the landing-place, so that the asses make a great many trips in a day. They have a set number of turns to and fro both forenoon and afternoon, which their owners will not exceed. At the landing-place there lies a frape-boat, as our seamen call it, to take in the salt. It is made purposely for this use, with a deck reaching from the stern a third part of the boat; where there is a kind of bulkhead that rises not from the boat's bottom but from the edge of the deck to about 2 foot in height; all caulked very tight. The use of it is to keep the waves from dashing into the boat when it lies with its head to the shore to take in salt: for here commonly runs a great sea; and when the boat lies so with its head to the shore the sea breaks in over the stern, and would soon fill it was it not for this bulkhead, which stops the waves that come flowing upon the deck and makes them run off into the sea on each side. To keep the boat thus with the head to the shore and the stern to the sea there are two strong stanchions set up in the boat, the one at the head, the other in the middle of it, against the bulkhead, and a foot higher than the bulkhead. There is a large notch cut in the top of each of these stanchions big enough for a small hawser or rope to lie in; one end of which is fastened to a post ashore, and the other to a grappling or anchor lying a pretty way off at sea: this rope serves to haul the boat in and out, and the stanchions serve to keep her fast, so that she cannot swing to either side when the rope is hauled tight: for the sea would else fill her, or toss her ashore and stave her. The better to prevent her staving and to keep her the tighter together there are two sets of ropes more: the first going athwart from gunwale to gunwale, which, when the rowers benches are laid, bind the boats sides so hard against the ends of the benches that they cannot easily fall asunder, while the benches and ropes mutually help each other; the ropes keeping the boat's sides from flying off, and the benches from being crushed together inwards. Of these ropes there are usually but two, dividing the boat's length as they go across the sides into three equal parts. The other set of ropes are more in number, and are so placed as to keep the ribs and planks of the boat from starting off. For this purpose there are holes made at certain distances through the edge of the keel that runs along on the inside of the boat; through which these ropes passing are laid along the ribs so as to line them, or be themselves as ribs upon them, being made fast to them by rattans brought thither, or small cords twisted close about both ropes and ribs, up to the gunwale: by which means though several of the nails or pegs of the boat should by any shock fall out, yet the ropes of these two sets might hold her together: especially with the help of a rope going quite round about the gunwale on the outside, as our longboats have. And such is the care taken to strengthen the boats; from which girding them with ropes, which our seamen call fraping, they have the name of frape-boats. Two men suffice to haul her in and out, and take in the salt from shore (which is brought in bags) and put it out again. As soon as the boat is brought nigh enough to the shore he who stands by the bulkhead takes instantly a turn with the hawser about the bulkhead stanchion; and that stops her fast before the sea can turn her aside: and when the two men have got in their lading they haul off to sea till they come a little without the swell; where they remove the salt into another boat that carries it on board the ship. Without such a frape-boat here is but bad landing at any time: for though it is commonly very smooth in the road, yet there falls a great sea on the shore, so that every ship that comes here should have such a boat, and bring or make or borrow one of the other ships that happen to be here; for the inhabitants have none. I have been thus particular in the description of these frape-boats because of the use they may be of in any places where a great sea falls in upon the shore: as it does especially in many open roads in the East and West Indies; where they might therefore be very serviceable; but I never saw any of them there. ITS VEGETABLES, SILK-COTTON, ETC. ITS SOIL, AND TOWNS; ITS GUINEA-HENS AND OTHER FOWLS, BEASTS, AND FISH. OF THE SEA TURTLES, ETC. LAYING IN THE WET SEASON. OF THE NATIVES, THEIR TRADE AND LIVELIHOOD. The island Mayo is generally barren, being dry, as I said; and the best of it is but a very indifferent soil. The sandy bank that pens in the salt pond has a sort of silk-cotton growing upon it, and a plant that runs along upon the ground, branching out like a vine, but with thick broad leaves. The silk-cotton grows on tender shrubs, 3 or 4 foot high, in cods as big as an apple, but of a long shape; which when ripe open at one end, parting leisurely into 4 quarters; and at the first opening the cotton breaks forth. It may be of use for stuffing of pillows, or the like, but else is of no value, any more than that of the great cotton-tree. I took of these cods before that were quite ripe, and laid them in my chest; and in 2 or 3 days they would open and throw out the cotton. Others I have bound fast with strings, so that the cod could not open; and in a few days after, as soon as I slackened the string never so little, the cod would burst and the cotton fly out forcibly at a very little hole, just as the pulp out of a roasting apple, till all has been out of the cod. I met with this sort of cotton afterwards at Timor (where it was ripe in November) and nowhere else in all my travels; but I found two other sorts of silk-cotton at Brazil, which I shall there describe. The right cotton-shrub grows here also, but not on the sandbank. I saw some bushes of it near the shore; but the most of it is planted in the middle of the isle, where the inhabitants live, cotton-cloth being their chief manufacture; but neither is there any great store of this cotton. There also are some trees within the island, but none to be seen near the seaside; nothing but a few bushes scattering up and down against the sides of the adjacent hills; for as I said before the land is pretty high from the sea. The soil is for the most part either a sort of sand, or loose crumbling stone, without any fresh-water ponds or streams to moisten it, but only showers in the wet season which run off as fast as they fall, except a small spring in the middle of the isle, from which proceeds a little stream of water that runs through a valley between the hills. There the inhabitants live in three small towns, having a church and padre in each town: and these towns, as I was informed, are 6 or 7 miles from the road. Pinose is said to be the chief town, and to have 2 churches: St. John's the next, and the third Lagoa. The houses are very mean: small, low things. They build with figtree, here being, as I was told, no other trees fit to build with. The rafters are a sort of wild cane. The fruits of this isle are chiefly figs and watermelons. They have also callavances (a sort of pulse like French beans) and pumpkins for ordinary food. The fowls are flamingos, great curlews, and guinea-hens, which the natives of those islands call galena pintata, or the painted hen; but in Jamaica, where I have seen also those birds in the dry savannahs and woods (for they love to run about in such places) they are called guinea-hens. They seem to be much of the nature of partridges. They are bigger than our hens, have long legs, and will run apace. They can fly too but not far, having large heavy bodies and but short wings and short tails: as I have generally observed that birds have seldom long tails unless such as fly much; in which their tails are usually serviceable to their turning about as a rudder to a ship or boat. These birds have thick and strong yet sharp bills, pretty long claws, and short tails. They feed on the ground, either on worms, which they find by tearing open the earth; or on grasshoppers, which are plentiful here. The feathers of these birds are speckled with dark and light grey; the spots so regular and uniform that they look more beautiful than many birds that are decked with gayer feathers. Their necks are small and long; their heads also but little. The cocks have a small rising on their crowns, like a sort of a comb. It is of the colour of a dry walnut shell, and very hard. They have a small red gill on each side of their heads, like ears, strutting out downwards; but the hens have none. They are so strong that one cannot hold them; and very hardy. They are very good meat, tender, and sweet; and in some the flesh is extraordinary white; though some others have black flesh: but both sorts are very good. The natives take them with dogs, running them down whenever they please; for here are abundance of them. You shall see 2 or 300 in a company. I had several brought aboard alive, where they throve very well; some of them 16 or 18 months; when they began to pine. When they are taken young they will become tame like our hens. The flamingos I have already described at large. They have also many other sort of fowls, namely pigeons and turtledoves; miniotas, a sort of land-fowls as big as crows, of a grey colour, and good food; crusias, another sort of grey-coloured fowl almost as big as a crow, which are only seen in the night (probably a sort of owls) and are said to be good for consumptive people but eaten by none else. Rabeks, a sort of large grey eatable fowls with long necks and legs, not unlike herons; and many kinds of small birds. Of land animals here are goats, as I said formerly, and asses good store. When I was here before they were said to have had a great many bulls and cows: but the pirates who have since miserably infested all these islands have much lessened the number of those; not having spared the inhabitants themselves: for at my being there this time the governor of Mayo was but newly returned from being a prisoner among them, they having taken him away, and carried him about with them for a year or two. The sea is plentifully stocked with fish of divers sorts, namely dolphins, bonetas, mullet, snapper, silver-fish, garfish, etc. And here is a good bay to haul a seine or net in. I hauled mine several times, and to good purpose; dragging ashore at one time 6 dozen of great fish, most of them large mullet of a foot and a half or two foot long. Here are also porpoises, and a small sort of whales that commonly visit this road every day. I have already said that the months of May, June, July and August (that is, the wet season) are the time when the green-turtle come hither and go ashore to lay their eggs. I look upon it as a thing worth taking notice of that the turtle should always, both in north and south latitude, lay their eggs in the wet months. It might be thought, considering what great rains there are then in some places where these creatures lay, that their eggs should be spoiled by them. But the rain, though violent, is soon soaked up by the sand wherein the eggs are buried; and perhaps sinks not so deep into it as the eggs are laid: and keeping down the heat may make the sand hotter below than it was before, like a hot-bed. Whatever the reason may be why Providence determines these creatures to this season of laying their eggs, rather than the dry, in fact it is so, as I have constantly observed; and that not only with the sea-turtle but with all other sorts of amphibious animals that lay eggs; as crocodiles, alligators, iguanas etc. The inhabitants of this island, even their governor and padres, are all negroes, wool-pated like their African neighbours; from whom it is like they are descended; though, being subjects to the Portuguese, they have their religion and language. They are stout, lusty, well-limbed people, both men and women, fat and fleshy; and they and their children as round and plump as little porpoises; though the island appears so barren to a stranger as scarce to have food for its inhabitants. I enquired how many people there might be on the isle; and was told by one of the padres that here were 230 souls in all. The negro governor has his patent from the Portuguese governor of St. Jago. He is a very civil and sensible poor man; and they are generally a good sort of people. He expects a small present from every commander that lades salt here; and is glad to be invited aboard their ships. He spends most of his time with the English in the salting season, which is his harvest; and indeed, all the islanders are then fully employed in getting somewhat; for they have no vessels of their own to trade with, nor do any Portuguese vessels come hither: scarce any but English, on whom they depend for trade: and though subjects of Portugal, have a particular value for us. We don't pay them for their salt, but for the labour of themselves and their beasts in lading it: for which we give them victuals, some money, and old clothes, namely hats, shirts, and other clothes: by which means many of them are indifferently well rigged; but some of them go almost naked. When the turtle season comes in they watch the sandy bays in the night to turn them; and having small huts at particular places on the bays to keep them from the rain, and to sleep in: and this is another harvest they have for food; for by report there come a great many turtle to this and the rest of the Cape Verde Islands. When the turtle season is over they have little to do but to hunt for guinea-hens and manage their small plantations. But by these means they have all the year some employment or other; whereby they get a subsistence though but little else. When any of them are desirous to go over to St. Jago they get a licence from the governor and desire passage in any English ship that is going thither: and indeed all ships that lade salt here will be obliged to touch at St. Jago for water, for here at the bay is none, not so much as for drinking. It is true there is a small well of brackish water not half a mile from the landing-place which the asses that carry salt drink at; but it is very bad water. Asses themselves are a commodity in some of these islands, several of our ships coming hither purposely to freight with them and carry them to Barbados and our other plantations. I stayed at Mayo 6 days and got 7 or 8 ton of salt aboard for my voyage: in which time there came also into this road several sail of merchants ships for salt; all bound with it for Newfoundland. THE AUTHOR'S ARRIVAL AT ST. JAGO; PRAYA AND ST. JAGO TOWN. The 19th day of February, at about one o'clock in the morning, I weighed from Mayo Road in order to water at St. Jago, which was about 5 or 6 leagues to the westward. We coasted along the island St. Jago and passed by the port on the east of it I mentioned formerly which they call Praya; where some English outward-bound East-Indiamen still touch, but not so many of them as heretofore. We saw the fort upon the hill, the houses and coconut-trees: but I would not go in to anchor here because I expected better water on the south-west of the island at St. Jago Town. By eight o'clock in the morning we saw the ships in that road, being within 3 leagues of it: but were forced to keep turning many hours to get in, the flaws of wind coming so uncertain; as they do especially to the leeward of islands that are high land. At length two Portuguese boats came off to help tow us in; and about three o'clock in the afternoon we came to an anchor and took the prospect of the town. We found here, besides two Portuguese ships bound for Brazil whose boats had towed us in, an English pink that had taken in asses at one of the Cape Verde Islands and was bound to Barbados with them. Next morning I went ashore with my officers to the governor, who treated us with sweetmeats: I told him the occasion of my coming was chiefly for water; and that I desired also to take in some refreshments of fowls, etc. He said I was welcome, and that he would order the townsmen to bring their commodities to a certain house, where I might purchase what I had occasion for: I told him I had not money but would exchange some of the salt which I brought from Mayo for their commodities. He replied that salt was indeed an acceptable commodity with the poor people, but that if I designed to buy any cattle I must give money for them. I contented myself with taking in dunghill-fowls: the governor ordering a crier to go about the town and give notice to the people that they might repair to such a place with fowls and maize for feeding them where they might get salt in exchange for them: so I sent on board for salt and ordered some of my men to truck the same for the fowls and maize while the rest of them were busy in filling of water. This is the effect of their keeping no boats of their own on the several islands, that they are glad to by even their own salt of foreigners for want of being able to transport it themselves from island to island. St. Jago Town lies on the south-west part of the island in latitude about 15 degrees north, and is the seat of the general governor and of the bishop of all the Cape Verde Islands. This town stands scattering against the sides of two mountains, between which there is a deep valley, which is about 200 yards wide against the sea; but within a quarter of a mile it closes up so as not to be 40 yards wide. In the valley by the sea there is a straggling street, houses on each side, and a run of water in the bottom which empties itself into a fine small cove or sandy bay where the sea is commonly very smooth; so that here is good watering and good landing at any time; though the road be rocky and bad for ships. Just by the landing-place there is a small fort, almost level with the sea, where is always a court of guard kept. On the top of the hill, above the town, there is another fort which, by the wall that is to be seen from the road, seems to be a large place. They have cannon mounted there, but how many know not: neither what use that fort can be of except it be for salutes. The town may consist of 2 or 300 houses, all built of rough stone; having also one convent, and one church. OF THE INHABITANTS AND THEIR COMMODITIES. The people in general are black, or at least of a mixed colour, except only some few of the better sort, namely the governor, the bishop, some gentlemen, and some of the padres; for some of these also are black. The people about Praya are thievish; but these of St. Jago Town, living under their governor's eye, are more orderly, though generally poor, having little trade: yet besides chance ships of other nations there come hither a Portuguese ship or two every year, in their way to Brazil. These vend among them a few European commodities, and take of their principal manufactures, namely striped cotton cloth which they carry with them to Brazil. Here is also another ship comes hither from Portugal for sugar, their other manufacture, and returns with it directly thither: for it is reported that there are several small sugar-works on this island from which they send home near 100 ton every year; and they have plenty of cotton growing up in the country wherewith they clothe themselves, and send also a great deal to Brazil. They have vines of which they make some wine; but the European ships furnish them with better; though they drink but little of any. Their chief fruits are (besides plantains in abundance) oranges, lemons, citrons, melons (both musk and watermelons) limes, guavas, pomegranates, quinces, custard-apples, and papaws, etc. OF THE CUSTARD-APPLE, ST. JAGO ROAD. The custard-apple (as we call it) is a fruit as big as a pomegranate, and much of the same colour. The outside husk, shell, or rind, is for substance and thickness between the shell of a pomegranate, and the peel of a seville orange; softer than this, yet more brittle than that. The coat or covering is also remarkable in that it is beset round with small regular knobs or risings; and the inside of the fruit is full of a white soft pulp, sweet and very pleasant, and most resembling a custard of any thing, both in colour and taste; from whence probably it is called a custard-apple by our English. It has in the middle a few small black stones or kernels; but no core, for it is all pulp. The tree that bears this fruit is about the bigness of a quince-tree, with long, small, and thick-set branches spread much abroad: at the extremity of here and there one of which the fruit grows upon a stalk of its own about 9 or 10 inches long, slender and tough, and hanging down with its own weight. A large tree of this sort does not bear usually above 20 or 30 apples, seldom more. This fruit grows in most countries within the tropics, I have seen of them (though I omitted the description of them before) all over the West Indies, both continent and islands; as also in Brazil, and in the East Indies. The papaw too is found in all these countries, though I have not hitherto described it. It is a fruit about the bigness of a musk-melon, hollow as that is, and much resembling it in shape and colour, both outside and inside: only in the middle, instead of flat kernels, which the melons have, these have a handful of small blackish seeds about the bigness of peppercorns; whose taste is also hot on the tongue somewhat like pepper. The fruit itself is sweet, soft and luscious, when ripe; but while green it is hard and unsavoury: though even then being boiled and eaten with salt-pork or beef, it serves instead of turnips and is as much esteemed. The papaw-tree is about 10 or 12 foot high. The body near the ground may be a foot and a half or 2 foot diameter; and it grows up tapering to the top. It has no branches at all, but only large leaves growing immediately upon stalks from the body. The leaves are of a roundish form and jagged about the edges, having their stalks or stumps longer or shorter as they grow near to or further from the top. They begin to spring from out of the body of the tree at about 6 or 7 foot height from the ground, the trunk being bare below: but above that the leaves grow thicker and larger still towards its top, where they are close and broad. The fruit grows only among the leaves; and thickest among the thickest of them; insomuch that towards the top of the tree the papaws spring forth from its body as thick as they can stick one by another. But then lower down where the leaves are thinner the fruit is larger, and of the size I have described: and at the top where they are thick they are but small, and no bigger than ordinary turnips; yet tasted like the rest. Their chief land animals are their bullocks, which are said to be many; though they ask us 20 dollars apiece for them; they have also horses, asses, and mules, deer, goats, hogs, and black-faced long-tailed monkeys. Of fowls they have cocks and hens, ducks, guinea-hens, both tame and wild, parakeets, parrots, pigeons, turtledoves, herons, hawks, crab-catchers, galdens (a larger sort of crab-catchers) curlews, etc. Their fish is the same as at Mayo and the rest of these islands, and for the most part these islands have the same beasts and birds also; but some of the isles have pasturage and employment for some particular beasts more than other; and the birds are encouraged, by woods for shelter, and maize and fruits for food, to flock to some of the islands (as to this of St. Jago) than to others. FOGO. St. Jago Road is one of the worst that I have been in. There is not clean ground enough for above three ships; and those also must lie very near each other. One even of these must lie close to the shore, with a land-fast there: and that is the best for a small ship. I should not have come in here if I had not been told that it was a good secure place; but I found it so much otherways that I was in pain to be gone. Captain Barefoot, who came to an anchor while I was here, in foul ground, lost quickly 2 anchors; and I had lost a small one. The island Fogo shows itself from this road very plain, at about 7 or 8 leagues distance; and in the night we saw the flames of fire issuing from its top. CHAPTER 2. SOUTH OF THE LINE TO BRAZIL. THE AUTHOR'S DELIBERATION ON THE SEQUEL OF HIS VOYAGE AND DEPARTURE FROM ST. JAGO. Having despatched my small affairs at the Cape Verde Islands I meditated on the process of my voyage. I thought it requisite to touch once more at a cultivated place in these seas, where my men might be refreshed, and might have a market wherein to furnish themselves with necessaries: for, designing that my next stretch should be quite to New Holland, and knowing that after so long a run nothing was to be expected there but fresh water, if I could meet even with that there, I resolved upon putting in first at some port of Brazil, and to provide myself there with whatever I might have further occasion for. Beside the refreshing and furnishing my men I aimed also at the inuring them gradually and by intervals to the fatigues that were to be expected in the remainder of the voyage, which was to be in a part of the world they were altogether strangers to: none of them, except two young men, having ever crossed the Line. HIS COURSE, AND THE WINDS, ETC. IN CROSSING THE LINE. With this design I sailed from St. Jago on the 22nd of February with the winds at east-north-east and north-east fair weather and a brisk gale. We steered away south-south-east and south-south-east half east till in the latitude of 7 degrees 50 minutes we met with many ripplings in the sea like a tide or strong current, which setting against the wind caused such a rippling. We continued to meet these currents from that latitude till we came into the latitude of 3 degrees 22 north when they ceased. During this time we saw some bonetas and sharks; catching one of these. We had the true general tradewind blowing fresh at north-east till in the latitude of 4 degrees 40 minutes north when the wind varied, and we had small gales with some tornados. We were then to the east of St. Jago 4 degrees 54 minutes when we got into latitude 3 degrees 2 minutes north (where I said the rippling ceased) and longitude to the east of St. Jago 5 degrees 2 minutes we had the wind whiffling between the south by east and east by north small gales, frequent calms, very black clouds with much rain. In the latitude of 3 degrees 8 minutes north and longitude east from St. Jago 5 degrees 8 minutes we had the wind from the south-south-east to the north-north-east faint, and often interrupted with calms. While we had calms we had the opportunity of trying the current we had met with hitherto and found that it set north-east by east half a knot, which is 12 mile in 24 hours: so that here it ran at the rate of half a mile an hour, and had been much stronger before. The rains held us by intervals till the latitude of 1 degree 0 minutes north with small gales of wind between south-south-east and south-east by east and sometimes calm: afterwards we had the wind between the south and south-south-east till we crossed the Line, small winds, calms, and pretty fair weather. We saw but few fish beside porpoises; but of them a great many and struck one of them. It was the 10th of March, about the time of the equinox, when we crossed the equator, having had all along from the latitude of 4 degrees 40 minutes north, where the true tradewind left us, a great swell out of the south-east and but small uncertain gales, mostly southerly, so that we crept to the southward but slowly. I kept up against these as well as I could to the southward, and when we had now and then a flurry of wind at east I still went away due south, purposely to get to the southward as fast as I could; for while near the Line I expected to have but uncertain winds, frequent calms, rains, tornados, etc. which would not only retard my course but endanger sickness also among my men: especially those who were ill provided with clothes, or were too lazy to shift themselves when they were drenched with the rains. The heat of the weather made them careless of doing this; but taking a dram of brandy which I gave them when wet, with a charge to shift themselves, they would however lie down in their hammocks with their wet clothes; so that when they turned out they caused an ill smell wherever they came, and their hammocks would stink sufficiently that I think the remedying of this is worth the care of commanders that cross the Line; especially when they are, it may be, a month or more before they get out of the rains, at some times of year, as in June, July or August. HE STANDS AWAY FOR THE BAY OF ALL-SAINTS IN BRAZIL; AND WHY. What I have here said about currents, winds, calms, etc. in this passage is chiefly for the farther illustration of what I have heretofore observed in general about these matters, and especially as to crossing the Line, in my Discourse of the Winds, etc. in the Torrid Zone: which observations I have had very much confirmed to me in the course of this voyage; and I shall particularise in several of the chief of them as they come in my way. And indeed I think I may say this of the main of the observations in that treatise that the clear satisfaction I had about them and how much I might rely upon them was a great ease to my mind during this vexatious voyage; wherein the ignorance, and obstinacy withal, of some under me, occasioned me a great deal of trouble: though they found all along, and were often forced to acknowledge it, that I was seldom out in my conjectures when I told them usually beforehand what winds, etc. we should meet with at such or such particular places we should come at. Pernambuco was the port that I designed for at my first setting out from St. Jago; it being a place most proper for my purpose, by reason of its situation, lying near the extremity of Cape St. Augustine, the easternmost promontory of Brazil; by which means it not only enjoys the greater benefit of the seabreezes, and is consequently more healthy than other places to the southward, but is withal less subject to the southerly coasting tradewinds that blow half the year on this shore; which were now drawing on, and might be troublesome to me: so that I might both hope to reach soonest Pernambuco as most directly and nearest in my run; and might thence also more easily get away to the southward than from Bahia de todos los Santos or Rio de Janeiro. But notwithstanding these advantages I proposed to myself in going to Pernambuco I was soon put by that design through the refractoriness of some under me, and the discontents and backwardness of some of my men. For the calms and shiftings of winds which I met with, as I was to expect, in crossing the Line, made them who were unacquainted with these matters almost heartless as to the pursuit of the voyage, as thinking we should never be able to weather Cape St. Augustine: and though I told them that by that time we should get to about three degrees south of the Line we should again have a true brisk general tradewind from the north-east, that would carry us to what part of Brazil we pleased, yet they would not believe it till they found it so. This, with some other unforeseen accidents, not necessary to be mentioned in this place, meeting with the aversion of my men to a long unknown voyage, made me justly apprehensive of their revolting, and was a great trouble and hindrance to me. So that I was obliged partly to alter my measures, and met with many difficulties, the particulars of which I shall not trouble the reader with: but I mention thus much of it in general for my own necessary vindication, in my taking such measures sometimes for prosecuting the voyage as the state of my ship's crew, rather than my own judgment and experience, determined me to. The disorders of my ship made me think at present that Pernambuco would not be so fit a place for me; being told that ships ride there 2 or 3 leagues from the town, under the command of no forts; so that whenever I should have been ashore it might have been easy for my discontented crew to have cut or slipped their cables and have gone away from me: many of them discovering already an intention to return to England, and some of them declaring openly that they would go no further onwards than Brazil. I altered my course therefore, and stood away for Bahia de todos los Santos, or the Bay of All Saints, where I hoped to have the governor's help, if need should require, for securing my ship from any such mutinous attempt; being forced to keep myself all the way upon my guard, and to lie with my officers, such as I could trust, and with small arms upon the quarter-deck; it scarce being safe for me to lie in my cabin by reason of the discontents among my men. HIS ARRIVAL ON THAT COAST AND IN THE BAY. On the 23rd of March we saw the land of Brazil; having had thither, from the time when we came into the true tradewind again after crossing the Line, very fair weather and brisk gales, mostly at east-north-east. The land we saw was about 20 leagues to the north of Bahia; so I coasted alongshore to the southward. This coast is rather low than high, with sandy bays all along by the sea. OF THE SEVERAL FORTS, THE ROAD, SITUATION, TOWN, AND BUILDINGS OF BAHIA. A little within land are many very white spots of sand appearing like snow; and the coast looks very pleasant, being chequered with woods and savannahs. The trees in general are not tall; but they are green and flourishing. There are many small houses by the seaside, whose inhabitants are chiefly fishermen. They come off to sea on bark logs, made of several logs fastened side to side, that have one or two masts with sails to them. There are two men in each bark log, one at either end, having small low benches, raised a little above the logs, to sit and fish on, and two baskets hanging up at the mast or masts; one to put their provisions in, the other for their fish. Many of these were a-fishing now, and 2 of them came aboard, of whom I bought some fish. In the afternoon we sailed by one very remarkable piece of land where, on a small pleasant hill, there was a church dedicated to the Virgin Mary. See a sight of some parts of this coast and of the hill the church stands on. I coasted along till the evening and then brought to, and lay by till the next morning. About 2 hours after we were brought to, there came a sail out of the offing (from seaward) and lay by about a mile to windward of us and so lay all night. In the morning upon speaking with her she proved to be a Portuguese ship bound to Bahia; therefore I sent my boat aboard and desired to have one of his mates to pilot me in: he answered that he had not a mate capable of it, but that he would sail in before me, and show me the way; and that if he went into the harbour in the night he would hang out a light for me. He said we had not far in, and might reach it before night with a tolerable gale; but that with so small an one as now we had we could not do it: so we jogged on till night and then he accordingly hung out his light, which we steered after, sounding as we went in. I kept all my men on deck and had an anchor ready to let go on occasion. We had the tide of ebb against us, so that we went in but slowly; and it was about the middle of the night when we anchored. Immediately the Portuguese master came aboard to see me, to whom I returned thanks for his civilities; and indeed I found much respect, not only from this gentleman but from all of that nation both here and in other places, who were ready to serve me on all occasions. The place that we anchored in was about two miles from the harbour where the ships generally ride; but the fear I had lest my people should run away with the ship made me hasten to get a licence from the governor to run up into the harbour and ride among their ships, close by one of their forts. So on the 25th of March about ten o'clock in the morning, the tide serving, I went thither, being piloted by the superintendent there, whose business it is to carry up all the King of Portugal's ships that come hither, and to see them well moored. He brought us to an anchor right against the town, at the outer part of the harbour, which was then full of ships, within 150 yards of a small fort that stands on a rock half a mile from the shore. See a prospect of the harbour and the town as it appeared to us while we lay at anchor. Bahia de todos los Santos lies in latitude 13 degrees south. It is the most considerable town in Brazil, whether in respect of the beauty of its buildings, its bulk, or its trade and revenue. It has the convenience of a good harbour that is capable of receiving ships of the greatest burden: the entrance of which is guarded with a strong fort standing without the harbour, called St. Antonio: a sight of which I have given as it appeared to us the afternoon before we came in; and its lights (which they hang out purposely for ships) we saw the same night. There are other smaller forts that command the harbour, one of which stands on a rock in the sea, about half a mile from the shore. Close by this fort all ships must pass that anchor here, and must ride also within half a mile of it at farthest between this and another fort (that stands on a point at the inner part of the harbour and is called the Dutch Fort) but must ride nearest to the former, all along against the town: where there is good holding ground, and less exposed to the southerly winds that blow very hard here. They commonly set in about April, but blow hardest in May, June, July and August: but the place where the ships ride is exposed to these winds not above 3 points of the compass. Beside these there is another fort fronting the harbour, and standing on the hill upon which the town stands. The town itself consists of about 2000 houses; the major part of which cannot be seen from the harbour; but so many as appear in sight with a great mixture of trees between them, and all placed on a rising hill, make a very pleasant prospect; as may be judged by the draught. There are in the town 13 churches, chapels, hospitals, convents, beside one nunnery, namely the ecclesia major or cathedral, the Jesuits' college, which are the chief, and both in sight from the harbour: St. Antonio, St. Barbara, both parish churches; the Franciscans' church, and the Dominicans'; and 2 convents of Carmelites; a chapel for seamen close by the seaside, where boats commonly land and the seamen go immediately to prayers; another chapel for poor people, at the farther end of the same street, which runs along by the shore; and a third chapel for soldiers at the edge of the town remote from the sea; and an hospital in the middle of the town. The nunnery stands at the outer edge of the town next the fields, wherein by report there are 70 nuns. Here lives in archbishop, who has a fine palace in the town; and the governor's palace is a fair stone building, and looks handsome to the sea, though but indifferently furnished within: both Spaniards and Portuguese in their plantations abroad, as I have generally observed, affecting to have large houses; but are little curious about furniture, except pictures some of them. The houses of the town are 2 or 3 stories high, the walls thick and strong, being built with stone, with a covering of pantile; and many of them have balconies. The principal streets are large, and all of them paved or pitched with small stones. There are also parades in the most eminent places of the town, and many gardens, as well within the town as in the out parts of it, wherein are fruit trees, herbs, saladings and flowers in great variety, but ordered with no great care nor art. OF ITS GOVERNOR, SHIPS AND MERCHANTS; AND COMMODITIES TO AND FROM EUROPE. The governor who resides here is called Don John de Lancastrio, being descended, as they say, from our English Lancaster family; and he has a respect for our nation on that account, calling them his countrymen. I waited on him several times, and always found him very courteous and civil. Here are about 400 soldiers in garrison. They commonly draw up and exercise in a large parade before the governor's house; and many of them attend him when he goes abroad. The soldiers are decently clad in brown linen, which in these hot countries is far better than woollen; but I never saw any clad in linen but only these. Beside the soldiers in pay, he can soon have some thousands of men up in arms on occasion. The magazine is on the skirts of the town, on a small rising between the nunnery and the soldiers' church. It is big enough to hold 2 or 3000 barrels of powder; but I was told it seldom has more than 100, sometimes but 80. There are always a band of soldiers to guard it, and sentinels looking out both day and night. A great many merchants always reside at Bahia; for it is a place of great trade: I found here above 30 great ships from Europe, with 2 of the King of Portugal's ships of war for their convoy; beside 2 ships that traded to Africa only, either to Angola, Gambia, or other places on the coast of Guinea; and abundance of small craft that only run to and fro on this coast, carrying commodities from one part of Brazil to another. The merchants that live here are said to be rich, and to have many negro slaves in their houses, both of men and women. Themselves are chiefly Portuguese, foreigners having but little commerce with them; yet here was one Mr. Cock, an English merchant, a very civil gentleman and of good repute. He had a patent to be our English consul, but did not care to take upon him any public character because English ships seldom come hither, here having been none in 11 or 12 years before this time. Here was also a Dane, and a French merchant or two; but all have their effects transported to and from Europe in Portuguese ships, none of any other nation being admitted to trade hither. There is a custom-house by the seaside, where all goods imported or exported are entered. And to prevent abuses there are 5 or 6 boats that take their turns to row about the harbour, searching any boats they suspect to be running of goods. The chief commodities that the European ships bring hither are linen cloths, both coarse and fine; some woollens, also as bays, serges, perpetuanas, etc. Hats, stockings, both of silk and thread, biscuit-bread, wheat flour, wine (chiefly port) oil olive, butter, cheese, etc. and salt-beef and pork would there also be good commodities. They bring hither also iron, and all sorts of iron tools; pewter vessels of all sorts, as dishes, plates, spoons, etc. looking-glasses, beads, and other toys; and the ships that touch at St. Jago bring thence, as I said, cotton cloth, which is afterwards sent to Angola. The European ships carry from hence sugar, tobacco, either in roll or snuff, never in leaf, that I know of: these are the staple commodities. Besides which, here are dye-woods, as fustick, etc. with woods for other uses, as speckled wood, Brazil, etc. They also carry home raw hides, tallow, train-oil of whales, etc. Here are also kept tame monkeys, parrots, parakeets, etc, which the seamen carry home. CLAYING OF SUGAR. The sugar of this country is much better than that which we bring home from our plantations: for all the sugar that is made here is clayed, which makes it whiter and finer than our muscovada, as we call our unrefined sugar. Our planters seldom refine any with clay, unless sometimes a little to send home as presents for their friends in England. Their way of doing it is by taking some of the whitest clay and mixing it with water, till it is like cream. With this they fill up the pans of sugar that are sunk 2 or 3 inches below the brim by the draining of the molasses out of it: first scraping off the thin hard crust of the sugar that lies at the top, and would hinder the water of the clay from soaking through the sugar of the pan. The refining is made by this percolation. For 10 to 12 days time that the clayish liquor lies soaking down the pan the white water whitens the sugar as it passes through it; and the gross body of the clay itself grows hard on the top, and may be taken off at pleasure; when scraping off with a knife the very upper-part of the sugar which will be a little sullied, that which is underneath will be white almost to the bottom: and such as is called Brazil sugar is thus whitened. When I was here this sugar was sold for about 50 shillings per 100 pounds. And the bottoms of the pots, which is very coarse sugar, for about 20 shillings per 100 pounds, both sorts being then scarce; for here was not enough to lade the ships, and therefore some of them were to lie here till the next season. THE SEASON FOR THE EUROPEAN SHIPS, AND COIR CABLES: OF THEIR GUINEA TRADE AND OF THE COASTING TRADE, AND WHALE KILLING. The European ships commonly arrive here in February or March, and they have generally quick passages; finding at that time of the year brisk gales to bring them to the Line, little trouble, then, in crossing it, and brisk east-north-east winds afterwards to bring them hither. They commonly return from hence about the latter end of May, or in June. It was said when I was here that the ships would sail hence the 20th day of May; and therefore they were all very busy, some in taking in their goods, others in careening and making themselves ready. The ships that come hither usually careen at their first coming; here being a hulk belonging to the king for that purpose. This hulk is under the charge of the superintendent I spoke of, who has a certain sum of money for every ship that careens by her. He also provides firing and other necessaries for that purpose: and the ships do commonly hire of the merchants here each 2 cables to moor by all the time they lie here, and so save their own hempen cables; for these are made of a sort of hair that grows on a certain kind of trees, hanging down from the top of their bodies, and is very like the black coir in the East Indies, if not the same. These cables are strong and lasting: and so much for the European ships. The ships that use the Guinea trade are small vessels in comparison of the former. They carry out from hence rum, sugar, the cotton cloths of St. Jago, beads, etc. and bring in return gold, ivory, and slaves; making very good returns. The small craft that belong to this town are chiefly employed in carrying European goods from Bahia, the centre of the Brazilian trade, to the other places on this coast; bringing back hither sugar, tobacco, etc. They are sailed chiefly with negro slaves; and about Christmas these are mostly employed in whale killing: for about that time of the year a sort of whales, as they call them, are very thick on this coast. They come in also into the harbours and inland lakes where the seamen go out and kill them. The fat of them is boiled to oil; the lean is eaten by the slaves and poor people: and I was told by one that had frequently eaten of it that the flesh was very sweet and wholesome. These are said to be but small whales; yet here are so many, and so easily killed, that they get a great deal of money by it. Those that strike them buy their licence for it of the king: and I was informed that he receives 30,000 dollars per annum for this fishery. All the small vessels that use this coasting traffic are built here; and so are some men of war also for the king's service. There was one a-building when I was here, a ship of 40 or 50 guns: and the timber of this country is very good and proper for this purpose. I was told it was very strong, and more durable than any we have in Europe; and they have enough of it. As for their ships that use the European trade some of them that I saw there were English built, taken from us by the French, during the late war, and sold by them to the Portuguese. OF THE INHABITANTS OF BAHIA; THEIR CARRYING IN HAMMOCKS: THEIR ARTIFICERS, CRANE FOR GOODS, AND NEGRO SLAVES. Besides merchants and others that trade by sea from this port here are other pretty wealthy men, and several artificers and tradesmen of most sorts, who by labour and industry maintain themselves very well; especially such as can arrive at the purchase of a negro slave or two. And indeed, excepting people of the lowest degree of all, here are scarce any but what keep slaves in their houses. The richer sort, besides the slaves of both sexes whom they keep for servile uses in their houses, have men slaves who wait on them abroad, for state; either running by their horse-sides when they ride out, or to carry them to and fro on their shoulders in the town when they make short visits near home. Every gentleman or merchant is provided with things necessary for this sort of carriage. The main thing is a pretty large cotton hammock of the West India fashion, but mostly died blue, with large fringes of the same, hanging down on each side. This is carried on the negroes' shoulders by the help of a bamboo about 12 or 14 foot long, to which the hammock is hung; and a covering comes over the pole, hanging down on each side like a curtain: so that the person so carried cannot be seen unless he pleases; but may either lie down, having pillows for his head; or may sit up by being a little supported with these pillows, and by letting both his legs hang out over one side of the hammock. When he hath a mind to be seen he puts by his curtain, and salutes everyone of his acquaintance whom he meets in the streets; for they take a piece of pride in greeting one another from their hammocks, and will hold long conferences thus in the street: but then their 2 slaves who carry the hammock have each a strong well made staff with a fine iron fork at the upper end, and a sharp iron below, like the rest for a musket, which they stick fast in the ground and let the pole or bamboo of the hammock rest upon them till their master's business or the complement is over. There is scarce a man of any fashion, especially a woman, will pass the streets but so carried in a hammock. The chief mechanic traders here are smiths, hatters, shoemakers, tanners, sawyers, carpenters, coopers, etc. Here are also tailors, butchers, etc., which last kill the bullocks very dexterously, sticking them at one blow with a sharp-pointed knife in the nape of the neck, having first drawn them close to a rail; but they dress them very slovenly. It being Lent when I came hither there was no buying any flesh till Easter-eve, when a great number of bullocks were killed at once in the slaughterhouses within the town, men, women and children flocking thither with great joy to buy, and a multitude of dogs, almost starved, following them; for whom the meat seemed fittest, it was so lean. All these tradesmen buy negroes, and train them up to their several employments, which is a great help to them; and they having so frequent trade to Angola, and other parts of Guinea, they have a constant supply of blacks both for their plantations and town. These slaves are very useful in this place for carriage, as porters; for as here is a great trade by sea and the landing-place is at the foot of a hill, too steep for drawing with carts, so there is great need of slaves to carry goods up into the town, especially for the inferior sort; but the merchants have also the convenience of a great crane that goes with ropes or pulleys, one end of which goes up while the other goes down. The house in which this crane is stands on the brow of the hill towards the sea, hanging over the precipice; and there are planks set shelving against the bank from thence to the bottom, against which the goods lean or slide as they are hoisted up or let down. The negro slaves in this town are so numerous that they make up the greatest part or bulk of the inhabitants: every house, as I said, having some, both men and women, of them. Many of the Portuguese, who are bachelors, keep of these black women for misses, though they know the danger they are in of being poisoned by them, if ever they give them any occasion of jealousy. A gentleman of my acquaintance, who had been familiar with his cookmaid, lay under some apprehensions from her when I was there. These slaves also of either sex will easily be engaged to do any sort of mischief; even to murder, if they are hired to do it, especially in the night; for which reason I kept my men on board as much as I could; for one of the French king's ships being here had several men murdered by them in the night, as I was credibly informed. OF THE COUNTRY ABOUT BAHIA, ITS SOIL AND PRODUCT. Having given this account of the town of Bahia I shall next say somewhat of the country. There is a salt-water lake runs 40 leagues, as I was told, up the country, north-west from the sea, leaving the town and Dutch fort on the starboard side. The country all around about is for the most part a pretty flat even ground, not high, nor yet very low: it is well watered with rivers, brooks and springs; neither wants it for good harbours, navigable creeks, and good bays for ships to ride in. The soil in general is good, naturally producing very large trees of divers sorts, and fit for any uses. The savannahs also are loaded with grass, herbs, and many sorts of smaller vegetables; and being cultivated, produce anything that is proper for those hot countries, as sugarcane, cotton, indigo, maize, fruit-trees of several kinds, and eatable roots of all sorts. Of the several kinds of trees that are here I shall give an account of some, as I had it partly from an inhabitant of Bahia, and partly from my knowledge of them otherwise, namely sapiera, vermiatico, comesserie, guitteba, serrie, as they were pronounced to me, three sorts of mangrove, speckled wood, fustick, cotton-trees of 3 sorts, etc., together with fruit trees of divers sorts that grow wild, beside such as are planted. ITS TIMBER-TREES; THE SAPIERA, VERMIATICO, COMMESSERIE, GUITTEBA, SERRIE, AND MANGROVES. Of timber-trees the sapiera is said to be large and tall; it is very good timber, and is made use of in building of houses; so is the vermiatico, a tall straight-bodied tree, of which they make plank 2 foot broad; and they also make canoes with it. Comesserie and guitteba are chiefly used in building ships; these are as much esteemed here as oaks are in England, and they say either sort is harder and more durable than oak. The serrie is a sort of tree much like elm, very durable in water. Here are also all the three sorts of mangrove trees, namely the red, the white, and the black, which I have described. The bark of the red mangrove is here used for tanning of leather, and they have great tan-pits for it. The black mangrove grows larger here than in the West Indies, and of it they make good plank. The white mangrove is larger and tougher than in the West Indies; of these they make masts and yards for barks. THE BASTARD-COCO, ITS NUTS AND CABLES; AND THE SILK-COTTON-TREES. There grow here wild or bastard coconut-trees, neither so large nor so tall as the common ones in the East or West Indies. They bear nuts as the others, but not a quarter so big as the right coconuts. The shell is full of kernel, without any hollow place or water in it; and the kernel is sweet and wholesome, but very hard both for the teeth and for digestion. These nuts are in much esteem for making beads for paternosters, boles of tobacco pipes and other toys: and every small shop here has a great many of them to sell. At the top of these bastard coco-trees, among the branches, there grows a sort of long black thread-like horsehair, but much longer, which by the Portuguese is called tresabo. Of this they make cables which are very serviceable, strong and lasting; for they will not rot as cables made of hemp, though they lie exposed both to wet and heat. These are the cables which I said they keep in their harbours here, to let to hire to European ships, and resemble the coir cables. Here are 3 sorts of cotton-trees that bear silk-cotton. One sort is such as I have formerly described by the name of the cotton-tree. The other 2 sorts I never saw anywhere but here. The trees of these latter sorts are but small in comparison of the former, which are reckoned the biggest in all the West India woods; yet are however of a good bigness and height. One of these last sorts is not so full of branches as the other of them; neither do they produce their fruit the same time of the year: for one sort had its fruit just ripe and was shedding its leaves while the other sort was yet green, and its fruit small and growing, having but newly done blossoming; the tree being as full of young fruit as an apple-tree ordinarily in England. These last yield very large pods, about 6 inches long and as big as a man's arm. It is ripe in September and October; then the pod opens and the cotton bursts out in a great lump as big as a man's head. They gather these pods before they open; otherwise it would fly all away. It opens as well after it is gathered; and then they take out the cotton and preserve it to fill pillows and bolsters, for which use it is very much esteemed: but it is fit for nothing else, being so short that it cannot be spun. It is of a tawny colour; and the seeds are black, very round, and as big as a white pea. The other sort is ripe in March or April. The fruit or pod is like a large apple and very round. The outside shell is as thick as the top of one's finger. Within this there is a very thin whitish bag or skin which encloses the cotton. When the cotton-apple is ripe the outer thick green shell splits itself into 5 equal parts from stem to tail and drops off, leaving the cotton hanging upon the stem, only pent up in its fine bag. A day or two afterwards the cotton swells by the heat of the sun, breaks the bag and bursts out, as big as a man's head: and then as the wind blows it is by degrees driven away, a little at a time, out of the bag that still hangs upon the stem, and is scattered about the fields; the bag soon following the cotton, and the stem the bag. Here is also a little of the right West India cotton-shrub: but none of the cotton is exported, nor do they make much cloth of it. THE BRAZILIAN FRUITS, ORANGES, ETC. This country produces great variety of fine fruits, as very good oranges of 3 or 4 sorts (especially one sort of china oranges) limes in abundance, pomegranates, pomecitrons, plantains, bananas, right coconuts, guavas, coco-plums (called here munsheroos) wild grapes, such as I have described, beside such grapes as grow in Europe. Here are also hog-plums, custard-apples, soursops, cashews, papaws (called here mamoons) jennipahs (called here jennipapahs) manchineel-apples and mangoes. Mangoes are yet but rare here: I saw none of them but in the Jesuits' garden, which has a great many fine fruits, and some cinnamon-trees. These, both of them, were first brought from the East Indies, and they thrive here very well: so do pumplemouses, brought also from thence; and both china and seville oranges are here very plentiful as well as good. OF THE SOURSOPS, CASHEWS AND JENNIPAHS. The soursop (as we call it) is a large fruit as big as a man's head, of a long or oval shape, and of a green colour; but one side is yellowish when ripe. The outside rind or coat is pretty thick, and very rough, with small sharp knobs; the inside is full of spongy pulp, within which also are many black seeds or kernels, in shape and bigness like a pumpkin-seed. The pulp is very juicy, of a pleasant taste, and wholesome. You suck the juice out of the pulp, and so spit it out. The tree or shrub that bears this fruit grows about 10 or 12 foot high, with a small short body; the branches growing pretty straight up; for I did never see any of them spread abroad. The twigs are slender and tough; and so is the stem of the fruit. This fruit grows also both in the East and West Indies. The cashew is a fruit as big as a pippin, pretty long, and bigger near the stem than at the other end, growing tapering. The rind is smooth and thin, of a red and yellow colour. The seed of this fruit grows at the end of it; it is of an olive colour shaped like a bean, and about the same bigness, but not altogether so flat. The tree is as big as an apple-tree, with branches not thick, yet spreading off. The boughs are gross, the leaves broad and round, and in substance pretty thick. This fruit is soft and spongy when ripe, and so full of juice that in biting it the juice will run out on both sides of one's mouth. It is very pleasant, and gratefully rough on the tongue; and is accounted a very wholesome fruit. This grows both in the East and West Indies, where I have seen and eaten of it. The jennipah or jennipapah is a sort of fruit of the calabash or gourd kind. It is about the bigness of a duck-egg, and somewhat of an oval shape; and is of a grey colour. The shell is not altogether so thick nor hard as a calabash: it is full of whitish pulp mixed with small flat seeds; and both pulp and seeds must be taken into the mouth, where sucking out the pulp you spit out seeds. It is of a sharp and pleasing taste, and is very innocent. The tree that bears it is much like an ash, straight-bodied, and of a good height; clean from limbs till near the top, where there branches forth a small head. The rind is of a pale grey, and so is the fruit. We used of this tree to make helves or handles for axes (for which it is very proper) in the Bay of Campeachy; where I have seen of them, and nowhere else but here. OF THEIR PECULIAR FRUITS, ARISAHS, MERICASAHS, PETANGOS, PETUMBOS, MUNGAROOS, MUCKISHAWS, INGWAS, OTEES, AND MUSTERAN DE OVAS. Besides these here are many sorts of fruits which I have not met with anywhere but here; as arisahs, mericasahs, petangos, etc. Arisahs are an excellent fruit, not much bigger than a large cherry; shaped like a catherine-pear, being small at the stem, and swelling bigger towards the end. They are of a greenish colour, and have small seeds as big as mustard seeds; they are somewhat tart, yet pleasant, and very wholesome, and may be eaten by sick people. Mericasahs are an excellent fruit, of which there are 2 sorts; one growing on a small tree or shrub, which is counted the best; the other growing on a kind of shrub like a vine, which they plant about arbors to make a shade, having many broad leaves. The fruit is as big as a small orange, round and green. When they are ripe they are soft and fit to eat; full of white pulp mixed thick with little black seeds, and there is no separating one from the other till they are in your mouth; when you suck in the white pulp and spit out the stones. They are tart, pleasant, and very wholesome. Petangos are a small red fruit that grow also on small trees and are as big as cherries, but not so globular, having one flat side, and also 5 or 6 small protuberant ridges. It is a very pleasant tart fruit, and has a pretty large flattish stone in the middle. Petumbos are a yellow fruit (growing on a shrub like a vine) bigger than cherries with a pretty large stone. These are sweet, but rough in the mouth. Mungaroos are a fruit as big as cherries, red on one side and white on the other side: they are said to be full of small seeds, which are commonly swallowed in eating them. Muckishaws are said to be a fruit as big as crab-apples, growing on large trees. They have also small seeds in the middle and are well tasted. Ingwas are a fruit like the locust-fruit, 4 inches long and one broad. They grow on high trees. Otee is a fruit as big as a large coconut. It hath a husk on the outside, and a large stone within, and is accounted a very fine fruit. Musteran-de-ovas are a round fruit as big as large hazelnuts, covered with thin brittle shells of a blackish colour: they have a small stone in the middle, enclosed within a black pulpy substance, which is of a pleasant taste. The outside shell is chewed with the fruit, and spit out with the stone, when the pulp is sucked from them. The tree that bears this fruit is tall, large, and very hard wood. I have not seen any of these five last-named fruits, but had them thus described to me by an Irish inhabitant of Bahia; though as to this last I am apt to believe I may have both seen and eaten of them in Achin in Sumatra. OF THE PALMBERRIES, PHYSICK-NUTS, MENDIBEES, ETC. AND THEIR ROOTS AND HERBS, ETC. Palm-berries (called here dendees) grow plentifully about Bahia; the largest are as big as walnuts; they grow in bunches on the top of the body of the tree, among the roots of the branches or leaves, as all fruits of the palm kind do. These are the same kind of berries or nuts as those they make the palm-oil with on the coast of guinea, where they abound: and I was told that they make oil with them here also. They sometimes roast and eat them; but when I had one roasted to prove it I did not like it. Physick-nuts, as our seamen called them, are called here pineon; and agnus castus is called here carrepat: these both grow here: so do mendibees, a fruit like physick-nuts. They scorch them in a pan over the fire before they eat them. Here are also great plenty of cabbage-trees, and other fruits, which I did not get information about and which I had not the opportunity of seeing; because this was not the season, it being our spring, and consequently their autumn, when their best fruits were gone, though some were left. However I saw abundance of wild berries in the woods and fields, but I could not learn their names or nature. They have withal good plenty of ground fruit, as callavances, pineapples, pumpkins, watermelons, musk-melons, cucumbers, and roots; as yams, potatoes, cassava, etc. Garden herbs also good store; as cabbages, turnips, onions, leeks, and abundance of other salading, and for the pot. Drugs of several sorts, namely sassafras, snake-root, etc. Beside the woods I mentioned for dyeing and other uses as fustick, speckled-wood, etc. I brought home with me from hence a good number of plants, dried between the leaves of books; of some of the choicest of which that are not spoiled I may give a specimen at the end of the book. OF THEIR WILDFOWL, MACAWS, PARROTS, ETC. Here are said to be great plenty and variety of wildfowl, namely yemmas, macaws (which are called here jackoos, and are a larger sort of parrot, and scarcer) parrots, parakeets, flamingos, carrion-crows, chattering-crows, cockrecoes, bill-birds finely painted, corresoes, doves, pigeons, jenetees, clocking-hens, crab-catchers, galdens, currecoos, muscovy ducks, common ducks, widgeons, teal, curlews, men-of-war birds, boobies, noddies, pelicans, etc. THE YEMMA, CARRION-CROW AND CHATTERING-CROW, BILL-BIRD, CURRESO, TURTLEDOVE AND WILD PIGEONS; THE JENETEE, The yemma is bigger than a swan, grey-feathered, with a long thick sharp-pointed bill. The carrion-crow and chattering-crows are called here mackeraws, and are like those I described in the West Indies. The bill of the chattering-crow is black, and the upper bill is round, bending downwards like a hawk's bill, rising up in a ridge almost semi-circular, and very sharp, both at the ridge or convexity, and at the point or extremity: the lower bill is flat and shuts even with it. I was told by a Portuguese here that their negro wenches make love potions with these birds. And the Portuguese care not to let them have any of these birds, to keep them from that superstition: as I found one afternoon when I was in the fields with a padre and another, who shot two of them, and hid them, as they said, for that reason. They are not good food, but their bills are reckoned a good antidote against poison. The bill-birds are so called by the English from their monstrous bills, which are as big as their bodies. I saw none of these birds here, but saw several of the breasts flayed off and dried for the beauty of them; the feathers were curiously coloured with red, yellow, and orange-colour. The curresos (called here mackeraws) are such as are in the Bay of Campeachy. Turtledoves are in great plenty here; and two sorts of wild pigeons; the one sort blackish, the other a light grey: the blackish or dark grey are the bigger, being as large as our wood-quests, or wood-pigeons in England. Both sorts are very good meat; and are in such plenty from May till September that a man may shoot 8 or 10 dozen in several shots at one standing, in a close misty morning, when they come to feed on berries that grow in the woods. The jenetee is a bird as big as a lark with black feathers, and yellow legs and feet. It is accounted very wholesome food. CLOCKING-HEN, CRAB-CATCHER, GALDEN, AND BLACK HERON: THE DUCKS, WIDGEON AND TEAL; AND OSTRICHES TO THE SOUTHWARD, AND OF THE DUNGHILL-FOWLS. Clocking-hens are much like the crab-catchers which I have described, but the legs are not altogether so long. They keep always in swampy wet places, though their claws are like land-fowls' claws. They make a noise or cluck like our brood-hens, or dunghill-hens, when they have chickens, and for that reason they are called by the English clocking-hens. There are many of them in the Bay of Campeachy (though I omitted to speak of them there) and elsewhere in the West Indies. There are both here and there four sorts of these long-legged fowls, near akin to each other as so many sub-species of the same kind; namely crab-catchers, clocking-hens, galdens (which three are in shape and colour like herons in England, but less; the galden, the biggest of the three, the crab-catcher the smallest) and a fourth sort which are black, but shaped like the other, having long legs and short tails; these are about the bigness of crab-catchers, and feed as they do. Currecoos are waterfowls, as big as pretty large chickens, of a bluish colour, with short legs and tail; they feed also in swampy ground and are very good meat. I have not seen of them elsewhere. The wild ducks here are said to be of two sorts, the muscovy and the common ducks. In the wet season here are abundance of them, but in the dry time but few. Widgeon and teal also are said to be in great plenty here in the wet season. To the southward of Bahia there are also ostriches in great plenty, though it is said they are not so large as those of Africa: they are found chiefly in the southern parts of Brazil, especially among the large savannahs near the river of Plate; and from thence further south towards the Straits of Magellan. As for tame fowl at Bahia the chief beside their ducks are dunghill-fowls, of which they have two sorts; one sort much of the size of our cocks and hens; the other very large: and the feathers of these last are a long time coming forth: so that you see them very naked when half grown; but when they are full-grown and well feathered they appear very large fowls, as indeed they are; neither do they want for price; for they are sold at Bahia for half-a-crown or three shillings apiece, just as they are brought first to market out of the country, when they are so lean as to be scarce fit to eat. OF THEIR CATTLE, HORSES, ETC. The land animals here are horses, black cattle, sheep, goats, rabbits, hogs, leopards, tigers, foxes, monkeys, peccary (a sort of wild hogs called here pica) armadillo, alligators, iguanas (called quittee) lizards, serpents, toads, frogs, and a sort of amphibious creatures called by the Portuguese cachoras-de-agua, in English water-dogs. LEOPARDS AND TIGERS. The leopards and tigers of this country are said to be large and very fierce: but here on the coast they are either destroyed or driven back towards the heart of the country; and therefore are seldom found but in the borders and out-plantations, where they oftentimes do mischief. Here are three or four sorts of monkeys, of different sizes and colours. One sort is very large; and another sort is very small: these last are ugly in shape and feature and have a strong scent of musk. OF THEIR SERPENTS; THE RATTLESNAKE, SMALL GREEN SNAKE. AMPHISBAENA, SMALL BLACK AND SMALL GREY SNAKE; THE GREAT LAND-SNAKE, AND THE GREAT WATERSNAKE; AND OF THE WATER-DOG. They have here also the amphisbaena, or two-headed snake, of a grey colour, mixed with blackish stripes, whose bite is reckoned to be incurable. It is said to be blind, though it has two small specks in each head like eyes: but whether it sees or not I cannot tell. They say it lives like a mole, mostly underground; and that when it is found above ground it is easily killed, because it moves but slowly: neither is its sight (if it hath any) so good as to discern anyone that comes near to kill it: as few of these creatures fly at a man or hurt him but when he comes in their way. It is about 14 inches long and about the bigness of the inner joint of a man's middle finger; being of one and the same bigness from one end to the other, with a head at each end (as they said; for I cannot vouch it, for one I had was cut short at one end) and both alike in shape and bigness; and it is said to move with either head foremost, indifferently; whence it is called by the Portuguese cobra-de-dos-cabesas, the snake with two heads. The small black snake is a very venomous creature. There is also a grey snake, with red and brown spots all over its back. It is as big as a man's arm and about 3 foot long, and is said to be venomous. I saw one of these. Here are two sorts of very large snakes or serpents: one of them a land-snake, the other a water-snake. The land-snake is of a grey colour, and about 18 or 20 foot long: not very venomous, but ravenous. I was promised the sight of one of their skins but wanted opportunity. The water-snake is said to be near 30 foot long. These live wholly in the water, either in large rivers or great lakes, and prey upon any creature that comes within their reach, be it man or beast. They draw their prey to them with their tails: for when they see anything on the banks of the river or lake where they lurk they swing about their tails 10 or 12 foot over the bank; and whatever stands within their sweep is snatched with great violence into the river, and drowned by them. Nay it is reported very credibly that if they see only a shade of any animal at all on the water, they will flourish their tails to bring in the man or beast whose shade they see and are oftentimes too successful in it. Wherefore men that have business near any place where these water-monsters are suspected to lurk are always provided with a gun, which they often fire, and that scares them away or keeps them quiet. They are said to have great heads and strong teeth about 6 inches long. I was told by an Irishman who lived here that his wife's father was very near being taken by one of them, about this time of my first arrival here, when his father was with him up in the country: for the beast flourished his tail for him, but came not nigh enough by a yard or two; however it scared him sufficiently. The amphibious creatures here which I said are called by the Portuguese cachoras-de-agua or water-dogs, are said to be as big as small mastiffs, and are all hairy and shaggy from head to tail. They have 4 short legs, a pretty long head and short tail; and are of a blackish colour. They live in fresh-water ponds and oftentimes come ashore and sun themselves; but retire to the water if assaulted. They are eaten and said to be good food. Several of these creatures which I have now spoken of I have not seen, but informed myself about them while I was here at Bahia, from sober and sensible persons among the inhabitants, among whom I met with some that could speak English. OF THEIR SEA-FISH AND TURTLE; AND OF ST. PAUL'S TOWN. In the sea upon this coast there is great store and diversity of fish, namely jew-fish for which there is a great market at Bahia in Lent: tarpon, mullet, grouper, snook, garfish (called here goolions) gorasses, barramas, coquindas, cavallies, cachoras (or dogfish) conger eels, herring (as I was told) the serrew, the olio-de-boy (I write and spell them just as they were named to me) whales, etc. Here is also shellfish (though in less plenty about Bahia than on other parts of the coast) namely lobsters, crawfish, shrimps, crabs, oysters of the common sort, conches, wilks, cockles, mussels, periwinkles, etc. Here are three sorts of sea-turtle, namely hawksbill, loggerhead, and green: but none of them are in any esteem, neither Spaniards nor Portuguese loving them: nay they have a great antipathy against them, and would much rather eat a porpoise, though our English count the green turtle very extraordinary food. The reason that is commonly given in the West Indies for the Spaniards not caring to eat of them is the fear they have lest, being usually foul-bodied and many of them poxed (lying, as they do, so promiscuously with their negrines and other she-slaves) they should break out loathsomely like lepers; which this sort of food, it is said, does much incline men to do, searching the body, and driving out any such gross humours: for which cause many of our English valetudinarians have gone from Jamaica (though there they have also turtle) to the island Cayman, at the laying time, to live wholly upon turtle that then abound there; purposely to have their bodies scoured by this food, and their distempers driven out; and have been said to have found many of them good success in it. But this by the way. The hawksbill-turtle on this coast of Brazil is most sought after of any, for its shell; which by report of those I have conversed with at Bahia, is the clearest and best clouded tortoise-shell in the world. I had some of it shown me which was indeed as good as ever I saw. They get a pretty deal of it in some parts on this coast; but it is very dear. Beside this port of Bahia de todos los Santos there are 2 more principal ports on Brazil where European ships trade, namely Pernambuco and Rio de Janeiro; and I was told that there go as many ships to each of these places as to Bahia, and 2 men-of-war to each place for their convoys. Of the other ports in this country none is of greater note than that of St. Paul's where they gather much gold; but the inhabitants are said to be a sort of banditti, or loose people that live under no government: but their gold brings them all sorts of commodities that they need, as clothes, arms, ammunition, etc. The town is said to be large and strong. CHAPTER 3. TWO OCEANS AND NEW HOLLAND. THE AUTHOR'S STAY AND BUSINESS AT BAHIA: OF THE WINDS, AND SEASONS OF THE YEAR THERE. My stay here at Bahia was about a month; during which time the viceroy of Goa came hither from thence in a great ship, said to be richly laden with all sorts of India goods; but she did not break bulk here, being bound home for Lisbon; only the viceroy intended to refresh his men (of whom he had lost many, and most of the rest were very sickly, having been 4 months in their voyage hither) and so to take in water, and depart for Europe in company with the other Portuguese ships thither bound; who had orders to be ready to sail by the twentieth of May. He desired me to carry a letter for him, directed to his successor the new viceroy of Goa; which I did, sending it thither afterwards by Captain Hammond, whom I found near the Cape of Good Hope. The refreshing my men and taking in water was the main also of my business here; beside the having the better opportunity to compose the disorders among my crew: which, as I have before related, were grown to so great a height that they could not without great difficulty be appeased: however, finding opportunity during my stay in this place to allay in some measure the ferment that had been raised among my men, I now set myself to provide for the carrying on of my voyage with more heart than before, and put all hands to work, in order to it, as fast as the backwardness of my men would permit; who showed continually their unwillingness to proceed farther. Besides, their heads were generally filled with strange notions of southerly winds that were now setting in (and there had been already some flurries of them) which, as they surmised, would hinder any farther attempts of going on to the southward so long as they should last. The winds begin to shift here in April and September, and the seasons of the year (the dry and the wet) alter with them. In April the southerly winds make their entrance on this coast, bringing in the wet season, with violent tornados, thunder and lightning, and much rain. In September the other coasting trade at east-north-east comes in and clears the sky, bringing fair weather. This, as to the change of wind, is what I have observed, but as to the change of weather accompanying it so exactly here at Bahia this is a particular exception to what I have experienced in all other places of south latitudes that I have been in between the tropics, or those I have heard of; for there the dry season sets in, in April, and the wet about October or November, sooner or later (as I have said that they are, in south latitudes, the reverse of the seasons, or weather, in the same months in north latitudes, whereas on this coast of Brazil the wet season comes in in April at the same time that it doth in north latitudes, and the dry (as I have said here) in September; the rains here not lasting so far in the year as in other places; for in September the weather is usually so fair that in the latter part of that month they begin to cut their sugarcane here, as I was told; for I enquired particularly about the seasons: though this, as to the season of cutting of cane, which I was now assured to be in September, agrees not very well with that I was formerly told, that in Brazil they cut the cane in July. And so as to what is said a little lower in the same page, that in managing their cane they are not confined to the seasons, this ought to have been expressed only of planting them; for they never cut them but in the dry season. But to return to the southerly winds, which came in (as I expected they would) while I was here: these daunted my ship's company very much, though I had told them they were to look for them: but they being ignorant as to what I told them farther, that these were only coasting winds, sweeping the shore to about 40 or 50 leagues in breadth from it, and imagining that they had blown so all the sea over, between America and Africa; and being confirmed in this their opinion by the Portuguese pilots of European ships, with whom several of my officers conversed much, and who were themselves as ignorant that these were only coasting tradewinds (themselves going away before them in their return homewards till they cross the Line, and so having no experience of the breadth of them) being thus possessed with a conceit that we could not sail from hence till September; this made them still the more remiss in their duties, and very listless to the getting things in a readiness for our departure. However I was the more diligent myself to have the ship scrubbed, and to send my water casks ashore to get them trimmed, my beer being now out. I went also to the governor to get my water filled; for here being but one watering-place (and the water running low, now at the end of the dry season) it was always so crowded with the European ships' boats, who were preparing to be gone, that my men could seldom come nigh it till the governor very kindly sent an officer to clear the watering-place for my men, and to stay there till my water-casks were all full, whom I satisfied for his pains. Here I also got aboard 9 or 10 ton of ballast, and made my boatswain fit the rigging that was amiss: and I enquired also of my particular officers, whose business it was, whether they wanted any stores, especially pitch and tar; for that here I would supply myself before I proceeded any farther; but they said they had enough, though it did not afterwards prove so. I commonly went ashore every day, either upon business, or to recreate myself in the fields, which were very pleasant, and the more for a shower of rain now and then, that ushers in the wet season. Several sorts of good fruits were also still remaining, especially oranges, which were in such plenty that I and all my company stocked ourselves for our voyage with them, and they did us a great kindness; and we took in also a good quantity of rum and sugar: but for fowls, they being here lean and dear, I was glad I had stocked myself at St. Jago. But, by the little care my officers took for fresh provisions, one might conclude they did not think of going much farther. Besides I had like to have been embroiled with the clergy here (of the Inquisition, as I suppose) and so my voyage might have been hindered. What was said to them of me by some of my company that went ashore I know not; but I was assured by a merchant there that if they got me into their clutches (and it seems when I was last ashore they had narrowly watched me) the governor himself could not release me. Besides I might either be murdered in the streets, as he sent me word, or poisoned, if I came ashore any more; and therefore he advised me to stay aboard. Indeed I had now no further business ashore but to take leave of the governor and therefore took his advice. HIS DEPARTURE FOR NEW HOLLAND. Our stay here was till the 23rd of April. I would have gone before if I could sooner have fitted myself; but was now earnest to be gone, because this harbour lies open to the south and south-south-west, which are raging winds here, and now was the season for them. We had 2 or 3 touches of them; and one pretty severe, and the ships ride there so near each other that, if a cable would fail or an anchor start, you are instantly aboard of one ship or other: and I was more afraid of being disabled he in harbour by these blustering winds than discouraged by them, as my people were, from prosecuting the voyage; for at present I even wished for a brisk southerly wind, as soon as I should be once well out of the harbour, to set me the sooner into the true general tradewind. The tide of flood being spent, and having a fine land-breeze on the 23rd in the morning, I went away from the anchoring place before it was light; and then lay by till daylight that we might see the better how to go out of the harbour. I had a pilot belonging to Mr. Cock who went out with me, to whom I gave 3 dollars; but I found I could as well have gone out myself by the soundings I made at coming in. The wind was east by north and fair weather. By 10 o'clock I was got past all danger and then sent away my pilot. CAPE SALVADOR. At 12 Cape Salvador bore north distant 6 leagues, and we had the winds between the east by north and south-east a considerable time, so that we kept along near the shore, commonly in sight of it. The southerly blasts had now left us again; for they come at first in short flurries, and shift to other points (for 10 or 12 days sometimes) before they are quite set in: and we had uncertain winds, between sea and land-breezes, and the coasting trade, which was itself unsettled. THE WINDS ON THE BRAZILIAN COAST; AND ABROLHO SHOAL; FISH AND BIRDS: THE SHEARWATER BIRD, AND COOKING OF SHARKS. The easterly winds at present made me doubt I should not weather a great shoal which lies in latitude between 18 and 19 degrees south, and runs a great way into the sea, directly from the land, easterly. Indeed the weather was fair (and continued so a good while) so that I might the better avoid any danger from it: and if the wind came to the southward I knew I could stretch off to sea; so that I jogged on courageously. The 27th of April we saw a small brigantine under the shore plying to the southward. We also saw many men-of-war-birds and boobies, and abundance of albicore-fish. Having still fair weather, small gales, and some calms, I had the opportunity of trying the current, which I found to set sometimes northerly and sometimes southerly: and therefore knew I was still within the verge of the tides. Being now in the latitude of the Abrolho Shoals, which I expected to meet with, I sounded, and had water lessening from 40 to 33 and so to 25 fathom: but then it rose again to 33, 35, 37, etc., all coral rocks. Whilst we were on this shoal (which we crossed towards the further part of it from land, where it lay deep, and so was not dangerous) we caught a great many fish with hook and line: and by evening amplitude we had 6 degrees 38 minutes east variation. This was the 27th of April; we were then in latitude 18 degrees 13 minutes south and east longitude from Cape Salvador 31 minutes. On the 29th, being then in latitude 18 degrees 39 minutes south, we had small gales from the west-north-west to the west-south-west often shifting. The 30th we had the winds from west to south-south-east, squalls and rain: and we saw some dolphins and other fish about us. We were now out of sight of land and had been so 4 or 5 days: but the winds now hanging in the south was an apparent sign that we were still too nigh the shore to receive the true general east trade; as the easterly winds we had before showed that we were too far off the land to have the benefit of the coasting south trade: and the faintness of both these winds, and their often shifting from the south-south-west to the south-east with squalls, rain and small gales, were a confirmation of our being between the verge of the south coasting trade and that of the true trade; which is here regularly south-east. The 3rd of May, being in latitude 20 degrees 00 minutes and meridian distance west from Cape Salvador 234 miles, the variation was 7 degrees 00 minutes. We saw no fowl but shearwaters, as our seamen call them, being a small black fowl that sweep the water as they fly, and are much in the seas that lie without either of the tropics: they are not eaten. We caught 3 small sharks, each 6 foot 4 inches long; and they were very good food for us. The next day we caught 3 more sharks of the same size, and we ate them also, esteeming them as good fish, boiled and pressed, and then stewed with vinegar and pepper. EXCESSIVE NUMBER OF BIRDS ABOUT A DEAD WHALE; OF THE PINTADO BIRD, AND THE PETREL, ETC. We had nothing of remark from the 3rd of May to the 10th, only now and then seeing a small whale spouting up the water. We had the wind easterly and we ran with it to the southward, running in this time from the latitude of 20 degrees 00 minutes to 29 degrees 5 minutes south, and having then 7 degrees 3 minutes east longitude from Cape Salvador; the variation increasing upon us at present, notwithstanding we went east. We had all along a great difference between the morning and evening amplitudes; usually a degree or two, and sometimes more. We were now in the true trade, and therefore made good way to the southward to get without the verge of the general tradewind into a westerly wind's way that might carry us towards the Cape of Good Hope. By the 12th of May, being in latitude 31 degrees 10 minutes we began to meet with westerly winds, which freshened on us, and did not leave us till a little before we made the Cape. Sometimes it blew so hard that it put us under a fore-course; especially in the night; but in the daytime we had commonly our main topsail reefed. We met with nothing of moment; only we passed by a dead whale, and saw millions (as I may say) of sea-fowls about the carcass (and as far round about it as we could see) some feeding, and the rest flying about, or sitting on the water, waiting to take their turns. We first discovered the whale by the fowls; for indeed I did never see so many fowls at once in my life before, their numbers being inconceivably great: they were of divers sorts, in bigness, shape and colour. Some were almost as big as geese, of a grey colour, with white breasts, and with such bills, wings, and tails. Some were pintado-birds, as big as ducks, and speckled black and white. Some were shearwaters; some petrels; and there were several sorts of large fowls. We saw of these birds, especially pintado-birds, all the sea over from about 200 leagues distant from the coast of Brazil to within much the same distance of New Holland. The pintado is a southern bird, and of that temperate zone; for I never saw of them much to the northward of 30 degrees south. The pintado-bird is as big as a duck; but appears, as it flies, about the bigness of a tame pigeon, having a short tail, but the wings very long, as most sea-fowls have; especially such as these that fly far from the shore, and seldom come nigh it; for their resting is sitting afloat upon the water; but they lay, I suppose, ashore. There are three sorts of these birds, all of the same make and bigness, and are only different in colour. The first is black all over: the second sort are grey, with white bellies and breasts. The third sort, which is the true pintado, or painted-bird, is curiously spotted white and black. Their heads and the tips of their wings and tails are black for about an inch; and their wings are also edged quite round with such a small black list; only within the black on the tip of their wings there is a white spot seeming as they fly (for then their spots are best seen) as big as a half-crown. All this is on the outside of the tails and wings; and, as there is a white spot in the black tip of the wings, so there is in the middle of the wings which is white, a black spot; but this, towards the back of the bird, turns gradually to a dark grey. The back itself, from the head to the tip of the tail, and the edge of the wings next to the back, are all over spotted with fine small, round, white and black spots, as big as a silver twopence, and as close as they can stick one by another: the belly, thighs, sides, and inner part of the wings, are of a light grey. These birds, of all these sorts, fly many together, never high, but almost sweeping the water. We shot one a while after on the water in a calm, and a water-spaniel we had with us brought it in: I have given a picture of it, but it was so damaged that the picture doth not show it to advantage; and its spots are best seen when the feathers are spread as it flies. The petrel is a bird not much unlike a swallow, but smaller, and with a shorter tail. It is all over black, except a white spot on the rump. They fly sweeping like swallows, and very near the water. They are not so often seen in fair weather; being foul-weather birds, as our seamen call them, and presaging a storm when they come about a ship; who for that reason don't love to see them. In a storm they will hover close under the ship's stern in the wake of the ship (as it is called) or the smoothness which the ship's passing has made on the sea; and there as they fly (gently then) they pat the water alternately with their feet as if they walked upon it; though still upon the wing. And from hence the seamen give them the name of petrels in allusion to St. Peter's walking upon the Lake of Gennesareth. We also saw many bunches of seaweeds in the latitude of 39 32 and, by judgment near, the meridian of the island Tristan d'Acunha: and then we had about 2 degrees 20 minutes east variation: which was now again decreasing as we ran to the eastward, till near the meridian of Ascension; where we found little or no variation: but from thence, as we ran farther to the east, our variation increased westerly. OF A BIRD THAT SHOWS THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE TO BE NEAR: OF THE SEA-RECKONINGS, AND VARIATIONS: AND A TABLE OF ALL THE VARIATIONS OBSERVED IN THIS VOYAGE. Two days before I made the Cape of Good Hope my variation was 7 degrees 58 minutes west. I was then in 43 degrees 27 minutes east longitude from Cape Salvador, being in latitude 35 degrees 30 minutes, this was the first of June. The second of June I saw a large black fowl, with a whitish flat bill, fly by us; and took great notice of it, because in the East India Waggoner, pilot-book, there is mention made of large fowls, as big as ravens, with white flat bills and black feathers, that fly not above 30 leagues from the Cape, and are looked on as a sign of one's being near it. My reckoning made me then think myself above 90 leagues from the Cape, according to the longitude which the Cape hath in the common sea-charts: so that I was in some doubt whether these were the right fowls spoken of in the Waggoner; or whether those fowls might not fly farther off shore than is there mentioned; or whether, as it proved, I might not be nearer the Cape than I reckoned myself to be; for I found, soon after, that I was not then above 25 or 30 leagues at most from the Cape. Whether the fault were in the charts laying down the Cape too much to the east from Brazil, or were rather in our reckoning, I could not tell: but our reckonings are liable to such uncertainties from steerage, log, currents, half-minute-glasses; and sometimes want of care, as in so long a run cause often a difference of many leagues in the whole account. Most of my men that kept journals imputed it to the half-minute-glasses: and indeed we had not a good glass in the ship beside the half-watch or two-hour-glasses. As for our half-minute-glasses we tried them all at several times, and we found those that we had used from Brazil as much too short, as others we had used before were too long; which might well make great errors in those several reckonings. A ship ought therefore to have its glasses very exact; and besides, an extraordinary care ought to be used in heaving the log, for fear of giving too much stray line in a moderate gale; and also to stop quickly in a brisk gale, for when a ship runs 8, 9 or 10 knots, half a knot or a knot is soon run out, and not heeded: but to prevent danger, when a man thinks himself near land, the best way is to look out betimes, and lie by in the night, for a commander may err easily himself; beside the errors of those under him, though never so carefully eyed. Another thing that stumbled me here was the variation, which, at this time, by the last amplitude I had found to be but 7 degrees 58 minutes west, whereas the variation at the Cape (from which I found myself not 30 leagues distant) was then computed, and truly, about 11 degrees or more: and yet a while after this, when I was got 10 leagues to the eastward of the Cape, I found the variation but 10 degrees 40 minutes west, whereas it should have been rather more than at the Cape. These things, I confess, did puzzle me: neither was I fully satisfied as to the exactness of the taking the variation at sea: for in a great sea, which we often meet with, the compass will traverse with the motion of the ship; besides the ship may and will deviate somewhat in steering, even by the best helmsmen: and then when you come to take an azimuth there is often some difference between him that looks at the compass and the man that takes the altitude height of the sun; and a small error in each, if the error of both should be one way, will make it wide of any great exactness. But what was most shocking to me, I found that the variation did not always increase or decrease in proportion to the degrees of longitude east or west; as I had a notion they might do to a certain number of degrees of variation east or west, at such or such particular meridians. But, finding in this voyage that the difference of variation did not bear a regular proportion to the difference of longitude, I was much pleased to see it thus observed in a scheme shown me after my return home, wherein are represented the several variations in the Atlantic Sea, on both sides of the equator, and there the line of no variation in that sea is not a meridian line, but goes very oblique, as do those also which show the increase of variation on each side of it. In that chart there is so large an advance made as well towards the accounting for those seemingly irregular increases and decreases of variation towards the south-east coast of America as towards the fixing a general scheme or system of the variation everywhere, which would be of such great use in navigation, that I cannot but hope that the ingenious author, Captain Halley, who to his profound skill in all theories of these kinds, hath added and is adding continually personal experiments, will e'er long oblige the world with a fuller discovery of the course of the variation, which hath hitherto been a secret. For my part I profess myself unqualified for offering at anything of a general scheme; but since matter of fact, and whatever increases the history of the variation, may be of use towards the settling or confirming the theory of it, I shall here once for all insert a table of all the variations I observed beyond the equator in this voyage, both in going out and returning back; and what errors there may be in it I shall leave to be corrected by the observations of others. (A TABLE OF VARIATIONS.) OCCURRENCES NEAR THE CAPE; AND THE AUTHOR'S PASSING BY IT. But to return from this digression: having fair weather and the winds hanging southerly I jogged on to the eastward to make the Cape. On the third of June we saw a sail to leeward of us, showing English colours. I bore away to speak with her, and found her to be the Antelope of London, commanded by Captain Hammond, and bound for the Bay of Bengal in the service of the New-East-India Company. There were many passengers aboard, going to settle there under Sir Edward Littleton, who was going chief thither: I went aboard and was known by Sir Edward and Mr. Hedges, and kindly received and treated by them and the commander; who had been afraid of us before, though I had sent one of my officers aboard. They had been in at the Cape, and came from thence the day before, having stocked themselves with refreshments. They told me that they were by reckoning 60 miles to the west of the Cape. While I was aboard them a fine small westerly wind sprang up; therefore I shortened my stay with them because I did not design to go in to the Cape. When I took leave I was presented with half a mutton, 12 cabbages, 12 pumpkins, 6 pound of butter, 6 couple of stock-fish, and a quantity of parsnips; sending them some oatmeal which they wanted. From my first setting out from England I did not design to touch at the Cape; and that was one reason why I touched at Brazil, that there I might refresh my men and prepare them for a long run to New Holland. We had not yet seen the land, but about 2 in the afternoon we saw the Cape land bearing east at about 16 leagues distance: and, Captain Hammond being also bound to double the Cape, we jogged on together this afternoon and the next day, and had several fair sights of it; which may be seen. OF THE WESTERLY WINDS BEYOND IT: A STORM, AND ITS PRESAGES. To proceed: having still a westerly wind I jogged on in company with the Antelope till Sunday June the 4th, at 4 in the afternoon, when we parted; they steering away for the East Indies and I keeping an east-south-east course, the better to make my way for New Holland: for though New Holland lies north-easterly from the Cape yet all ships bound towards the coast, or the Straits of Sunda, ought to keep for a while in the same parallel, or in a latitude between 35 and 40, at least a little to the south of the east, that they may continue in a variable winds way; and not venture too soon to stand so far to the north as to be within the verge of the tradewind, which will put them by their easterly course. The wind increased upon us; but we had yet sight of the Antelope, and of the land too, till Tuesday the 6th June: and then we saw also by us an innumerable company of fowls of divers sorts; so that we looked about to see if there were not another dead whale, but saw none. The night before, the sun set in a black cloud, which appeared just like land, and the clouds above it were gilded of a dark red colour. And on the Tuesday, as the sun drew near the horizon, the clouds were gilded very prettily to the eye, though at the same time my mind dreaded the consequences of it. When the sun was now not above 2 degrees high it entered into a dark smoky-coloured cloud that lay parallel with the horizon, from whence presently seemed to issue many dusky blackish beams. The sky was at this time covered with small hard clouds (as we call such a lie scattering about, not likely to rain) very thick one by another; and such of them as lay next to the bank of clouds at the horizon were of a pure gold colour to 3 or 4 degrees high above the bank. From these to about 10 degrees high they were redder and very bright; above them they were of a darker colour still, to about 60 or 70 degrees high, where the clouds began to be of their common colour. I took the more particular notice of all this because I have generally observed such coloured clouds to appear before an approaching storm: and, this being winter here and the time for bad weather, I expected and provided for a violent blast of wind by reefing our topsails, and giving a strict charge to my officers to hand them or take them in if the wind should grow stronger. The wind was now at west-north-west a very brisk gale. About 12 o'clock at night we had a pale whitish glare in the north-west which was another sign, and intimated the storm be near at hand; and, the wind increasing upon it, we presently handed our topsails, furled the mainsail, and went away only with our foresail. Before 2 in the morning it came on very fierce, and we kept right before wind and sea, the wind still increasing: but the ship was very governable, and steered incomparably well. At 8 in the morning we settled our foreyard, lowering it 4 or 5 foot, and we ran very swiftly; especially when the squalls of rain or hail from a black cloud came overhead, for then it blew excessive hard. These, though they did not last long, yet came very thick and fast one after another. The sea also ran very high; but we running so violently before wind and sea we shipped little or no water; though a little washed into our upper deck ports; and with it a scuttle or cuttlefish was cast up on the carriage of a gun. The wind blew extraordinary hard all Wednesday the 7th of June but abated of its fierceness before night: yet it continued a brisk gale till about the 16th, and still a moderate one till the 19th day; by which time we had run about 600 leagues: for the most part of which time the wind was in some point of the west, namely from the west-north-west to the south by west. It blew hardest when at west or between the west and south-west, but after it veered more southerly the foul weather broke up: this I observed at other times also in these seas, that when the storms at west veered to the southward they grew less; and that when the wind came to the east of the south we had still smaller gales, calms, and fair weather. As for the westerly winds on that side the Cape, we like them never the worse for being violent, for they drive us the faster to the eastward; and are therefore the only winds coveted by those who sail towards such parts of the East Indies as lie south of the equator; as Timor, Java, and Sumatra; and by the ships bound for China, or any other that are to pass through the Straits of Sunda. Those ships having once passed the Cape keep commonly pretty far southerly, on purpose to meet with these west winds, which in the winter season of these climates they soon meet with; for then the winds are generally westerly at the Cape, and especially to the southward of it: but in their summer months they get to the southward of 40 degrees usually ere they meet with the westerly winds. I was not at this time in a higher latitude than 36 degrees 40 minutes, and oftentimes was more northerly, altering my latitude often as winds and weather required; for in such long runs it is best to shape one's course according to the winds. And if in steering to the east we should be obliged to bear a little to the north or south of it it is no great matter; for it is but sailing 2 or 3 points from the wind when it is either northerly or southerly; and this not only eases the ship from straining but shortens the way more than if a ship was kept close on a wind, as some men are fond of doing. THE AUTHOR'S COURSE TO NEW HOLLAND; AND SIGNS OF APPROACHING IT. The 19th of June we were in latitude 34 degrees 17 minutes south and longitude from the Cape 39 degrees 24 minutes east, and had small gales and calms. The winds were at north-east by east and continued in some part of the east till the 27th day. When it having been some time at north-north-east it came about at north and then to the west of the north, and continued in the west-board (between the north-north-west and south-south-west) till the 4th of July; in which time we ran 782 miles; then the winds came about again to the east, we reckoning ourselves to be in a meridian 1100 leagues east of the Cape; and, having fair weather, sounded, but had no ground. We met with little of remark in this voyage, besides being accompanied with fowls all the way, especially pintado-birds, and seeing now and then a whale: but as we drew nigher the coast of New Holland we saw frequently 3 or 4 whales together. When we were about 90 leagues from the land we began to see seaweeds, all of one sort; and as we drew nigher the shore we saw them more frequently. At about 30 leagues distance we began to see some scuttle-bones floating on the water; and drawing still nigher the land we saw greater quantities of them. July 25, being in latitude 26 degrees 14 minutes south and longitude east from the Cape of Good Hope 85 degrees 52 minutes, we saw a large garfish leap 4 times by us, which seemed to be as big as a porpoise. It was now very fair weather, and the sea was full of a sort of very small grass or moss, which as it floated in the water seemed to have been some spawn of fish; and there was among it some small fry. The next day the sea was full of small round things like pearl, some as big as white peas; they were very clear and transparent, and upon crushing any of them a drop of water would come forth: the skin that contained the water was so thin that it was but just discernable. Some weeds swam by us so that we did not doubt but we should quickly see land. On the 27th also some weeds swam by us, and the birds that had flown along with us all the way almost from Brazil now left us, except only 2 or 3 shearwaters. On the 28th we saw many weeds swim by us and some whales, blowing. On the 29th we had dark cloudy weather with much thunder, lightning, and violent rains in the morning; but in the evening it grew fair. We saw this day a scuttle-bone swim by us, and some of our young men a seal, as it should seem by their description of its head. I saw also some bonetas, and some skipjacks, a fish about 8 inches long, broad, and sizable, not much unlike a roach; which our seamen call so from their leaping about. ANOTHER ABROLHO SHOAL AND STORM, AND THE AUTHOR'S ARRIVAL ON PART OF NEW HOLLAND. The 30th of July, being still nearer the land, we saw abundance of scuttle-bones and seaweed, more tokens that we were not far from it; and saw also a sort of fowls, the like of which we had not seen in the whole voyage, all the other fowls having now left us. These were as big as lapwings; of a grey colour, black about their eyes, with red sharp bills, long wings, their tails long and forked like swallows; and they flew flapping their wings like lapwings. In the afternoon we met with a rippling tide or current, or the water of some shoal or overfall; but were past it before we could sound. The birds last mentioned and this were further signs of land. In the evening we had fair weather and a small gale at west. At 8 o'clock we sounded again; but had no ground. We kept on still to the eastward, with an easy sail looking out sharp: for by the many signs we had I did expect that we were near the land. At 12 o'clock in the night I sounded and had 45 fathom, coarse sand and small white shells. I presently clapped on a wind and stood to the south, with the wind at west, because I thought we were to the south of a shoal called the Abrolhos (an appellative name for shoals as it seems to me) which in a chart I had of that coast is laid down in 27 degrees 28 minutes latitude stretching about 7 leagues into the sea. I was the day before in 27 degrees 38 minutes by reckoning. And afterwards, steering east by south purposely to avoid it, I thought I must have been to the south of it: but sounding again at 1 o'clock in the morning August the first, we had but 25 fathom, coral rocks; and so found the shoal was to the south of us. We presently tacked again, and stood to the north, and then soon deepened our water; for at 2 in the morning we had 26 fathom coral still: at 3 we had 28 coral ground: at 4 we had 30 fathom, coarse sand, with some coral: at 5 we had 45 fathom, coarse sand and shells; being now off the shoal, as appeared by the sand and shells, and by having left the coral. By all this I knew we had fallen into the north of the shoal, and that it was laid down wrong in my sea-chart: for I found it lie in about 27 degrees latitude, and by our run in the next day I found that the outward edge of it, which I sounded on, lies 16 leagues off shore. When it was day we steered in east-north-east with a fine brisk gale; but did not see the land till 9 in the morning, when we saw it from our topmast-head, and were distant from it about 10 leagues; having then 40 fathom water, and clean sand. About 3 hours after we saw it on our quarter-deck, being by judgment about 6 leagues off, and we had then 40 fathom, clean sand. As we ran in this day and the next we took several sights of it, at different bearings and distances; from which it appeared as you see. And here I would note once for all that the latitudes marked in the draughts, or sights here given, are not the latitude of the land, but of the ship when the sight was taken. This morning, August the first, as we were standing in, we saw several large seafowls, like our gannets on the coast of England, flying 3 or 4 together; and a sort of white seamews, but black about the eyes, and with forked tails. We strove to run in near the shore to seek for a harbour to refresh us after our tedious voyage; having made one continued stretch from Brazil hither of about 114 degrees designing from hence also to begin the discovery I had a mind to make on New Holland and New Guinea. The land was low, and appeared even, and as we drew nearer to it it made with some red and some white cliffs; these last in latitude 26 10 south, where you will find 54 fathom within 4 miles of the shore. THAT PART DESCRIBED, AND SHARK'S BAY, WHERE HE FIRST ANCHORS. About the latitude of 26 degrees south we saw an opening, and ran in, hoping to find a harbour there: but when we came to its mouth, which was about 2 leagues wide, we saw rocks and foul ground within, and therefore stood out again: there we had 20 fathom water within 2 mile of the shore. The land everywhere appeared pretty low, flat and even; but with steep cliffs to the sea; and when we came near it there were no trees, shrubs or grass to be seen. The soundings in the latitude of 26 degrees south, from about 8 or 9 leagues off till you come within a league of the shore, are generally about 40 fathom; differing but little, seldom above 3 or 4 fathom. But the lead brings up very different sorts of sand, some coarse, some fine; and of several colours, as yellow, white, grey, brown, bluish and reddish. When I saw there was no harbour here, nor good anchoring, I stood off to sea again, in the evening of the second of August, fearing a storm on a lee shore, in a place where there was no shelter, and desiring at least to have sea-room: for the clouds began to grow thick in the western board, and the wind was already there, and began to blow fresh almost upon the shore; which at this place lies along north-north-west and south-south-east. By 9 o'clock at night we had got a pretty good offing; but, the wind still increasing, I took in my main topsail, being able to carry no more sail than two courses and the mizzen. At 2 in the morning August 3 it blew very hard, and the sea was much raised; so that I furled all my sails but my mainsail. Though the wind blew so hard we had pretty clear weather till noon: but then the whole sky was blackened with thick clouds, and we had some rain, which would last a quarter of an hour at a time, and then it would blow very fierce while the squalls of rain were over our heads; but as soon as they were gone the wind was by much abated, the stress of the storm being over. We sounded several times, but had no ground till 8 o'clock August the 4th in the evening; and then had 60 fathom water, coral ground. At 10 we had 56 fathom fine sand. At 12 we had 55 fathom, fine sand, of a pale bluish colour. It was now pretty moderate weather; yet I made no sail till morning; but then, the wind veering about to the south-west, I made sail and stood to the north: and at 11 o'clock the next day August 5 we saw land again, at about 10 leagues distance. This noon we were in latitude 25 degrees 30 minutes, and in the afternoon our cook died, an old man, who had been sick a great while, being infirm before we came out of England. The 6th of August in the morning we saw an opening in the land and we ran into it, and anchored in 7 and a half fathom water, 2 miles from the shore, clean sand. It was somewhat difficult getting in here, by reason of many shoals we met with: but I sent my boat sounding before me. The mouth of this sound, which I called Shark's Bay, lies in about 25 degrees south latitude, and our reckoning made its longitude from the Cape of Good Hope to be about 87 degrees; which is less by 195 leagues than is usually laid down in our common charts, if our reckoning was right and our glasses did not deceive us. As soon as I came to anchor in this bay (of which I have given a plan) I sent my boat ashore to seek for fresh water: but in the evening my men returned, having found none. The next morning I went ashore myself, carrying pickaxes and shovels with me, to dig for water: and axes to cut wood. We tried in several places for water but, finding none after several trials, nor in several miles compass, we left any farther search for it and, spending the rest of the day in cutting wood, we went aboard at night. OF THE LAND THERE, VEGETABLES, BIRDS, ETC. The land is of an indifferent height, so that it may be seen 9 or 10 leagues off. It appears at a distance very even; but as you come nigher you find there are many gentle risings, though none steep nor high. It is all a steep shore against the open sea: but in this bay or sound we were now in the land is low by the seaside, rising gradually in within the land. The mould is sand by the seaside, producing a large sort of samphire, which bears a white flower. Farther in the mould is reddish, a sort of sand producing some grass, plants, and shrubs. The grass grows in great tufts as big as a bushel, here and there a tuft: being intermixed with much heath, much of the kind we have growing on our commons in England. Of trees or shrubs here are divers sorts; but none above 10 foot high: their bodies about 3 foot about, and 5 or 6 foot high before you come to the branches, which are bushy and composed of small twigs there spreading abroad, though thick set, and full of leaves; which were mostly long and narrow. The colour of the leaves was on one side whitish, and on the other green; and the bark of the trees was generally of the same colour with the leaves, of a pale green. Some of these trees were sweet-scented, and reddish within the bark, like the sassafras, but redder. Most of the trees and shrubs had at this time either blossoms or berries on them. The blossoms of the different sort of trees were of several colours, as red, white, yellow, etc., but mostly blue: and these generally smelt very sweet and fragrant, as did some also of the rest. There were also beside some plants, herbs, and tall flowers, some very small flowers, growing on the ground, that were sweet and beautiful, and for the most part unlike any I had seen elsewhere. A PARTICULAR SORT OF IGUANA: FISH, AND BEAUTIFUL SHELLS; TURTLE, LARGE SHARK, AND WATER-SERPENTS. There were but few land-fowls; we saw none but eagles of the larger sorts of birds; but 5 or 6 sorts of small birds. The biggest sort of these were not bigger than larks; some no bigger than wrens, all singing with great variety of fine shrill notes; and we saw some of their nests with young ones in them. The water-fowls are ducks (which had young ones now, this being the beginning of the spring in these parts) curlews, galdens, crab-catchers, cormorants, gulls, pelicans; and some waterfowl, such as I have not seen anywhere besides. I have given the pictures of 4 several birds on this coast. The land animals that we saw here were only a sort of raccoon, different from those of the West Indies, chiefly as to their legs; for these have very short forelegs; but go jumping upon them as the others do (and like them are very good meat) and a sort of iguana, of the same shape and size with other iguanas described, but differing from them in 3 remarkable particulars: for these had a larger and uglier head, and had no tail: and at the rump, instead of the tail there, they had a stump of a tail which appeared like another head; but not really such, being without mouth or eyes: yet this creature seemed by this means to have a head at each end; and, which may be reckoned a fourth difference, the legs also seemed all 4 of them to be forelegs, being all alike in shape and length, and seeming by the joints and bending to be made as if they were to go indifferently either head or tail foremost. They were speckled black and yellow like toads, and had scales or knobs on their backs like those of crocodiles, plated onto the skin, or stuck into it, as part of the skin. They are very slow in motion; and when a man comes nigh them they will stand still and hiss, not endeavouring to get away. Their livers are also spotted black and yellow: and the body when opened has a very unsavoury smell. I did never see such ugly creatures anywhere but here. The iguanas I have observed to be very good meat: and I have often eaten of them with pleasure; but though I have eaten of snakes, crocodiles and alligators, and many creatures that look frightfully enough, and there are but few I should have been afraid to eat of if pressed by hunger, yet I think my stomach would scarce have served to venture upon these New Holland iguanas, both the looks and the smell of them being so offensive. The sea-fish that we saw here (for here was no river, land, or pond of fresh water to be seen) are chiefly sharks. There are abundance of them in this particular sound, and I therefore give it the name of Shark's Bay. Here are also skates, thornbacks, and other fish of the ray kind (one sort especially like the sea-devil) and garfish, bonetas, etc. Of shellfish we got here mussels, periwinkles, limpets, oysters, both of the pearl kind and also eating-oysters, as well the common sort as long oysters; beside cockles, etc., the shore was lined thick with many other sorts of very strange and beautiful shells, for variety of colour and shape, most finely spotted with red, black, or yellow, etc., such as I have not seen anywhere but at this place. I brought away a great many of them; but lost all except a very few, and those not of the best. There are also some green-turtle weighing about 200 pounds. Of these we caught 2 which the water ebbing had left behind a ledge of rock, which they could not creep over. These served all my company 2 days; and they were indifferent sweet meat. Of the sharks we caught a great many which our men eat very savourily. Among them we caught one which was 11 foot long. The space between its two eyes was 20 inches, and 18 inches from one corner of his mouth to the other. Its maw was like a leather sack, very thick, and so tough that a sharp knife could scarce cut it: in which we found the head and bones of a hippopotamus; the hairy lips of which were still sound and not putrefied, and the jaw was also firm, out of which we plucked a great many teeth, 2 of them 8 inches long and as big as a man's thumb, small at one end, and a little crooked; the rest not above half so long. The maw was full of jelly which stank extremely: however I saved for a while the teeth and the shark's jaw: the flesh of it was divided among my men; and they took care that no waste should be made of it. It was the 7th of August when we came into Shark's Bay; in which we anchored at three several places, and stayed at the first of them (on the west side of the bay) till the 11th. During which time we searched about, as I said, for fresh water, digging wells, but to no purpose. However we cut good store of firewood at this first anchoring-place; and my company were all here very well refreshed with raccoons, turtle, shark, and other fish, and some fowls; so that we were now all much brisker than when we came in hither. Yet still I was for standing farther into the bay, partly because I had a mind to increase my stock of fresh water, which was began to be low; and partly for the sake of discovering this part of the coast. I was invited to go further by seeing from this anchoring-place all open before me; which therefore I designed to search before I left the bay. So on the 11th about noon I steered farther in, with an easy sail because we had but shallow water: we kept therefore good looking-out for fear of shoals; sometimes shortening, sometimes deepening the water. About 2 in the afternoon we saw the land ahead that makes the south of the bay, and before night we had again shoalings from that shore: and therefore shortened sail and stood off and on all night under, 2 topsails, continually sounding, having never more than 10 fathom, and seldom less than 7. The water deepened and shoaled so very gently that in heaving the lead 5 or 6 times we should scarce have a foot difference. When we came into 7 fathom either way we presently went about. From this south part of the bay we could not see the land from whence we came in the afternoon: and this land we found to be an island of 3 or 4 leagues long, as is seen in the plan, but it appearing barren I did not strive to go nearer it; and the rather because the winds would not permit us to do it without much trouble, and at the openings the water was generally shoal. I therefore made no farther attempts in this south-west and south part of the bay, but steered away to eastward to see if there was any land that way, for as yet we had seen none there. On the 12th in the morning we passed by the north point of that land and were confirmed in the persuasion of its being an island by seeing an opening to the east of it, as we had done on the west. Having fair weather, a small gale, and smooth water, we stood further on in the bay to see what land was on the east of it. Our soundings at first were 7 fathom, which held so a great while, but at length it decreased to 6. Then we saw the land right ahead that in the plan makes the east of the bay. We could not come near it with the ship, having but shoal water; and it being dangerous lying there, and the land extraordinary low, very unlikely to have fresh water (though it had a few trees on it, seemingly mangroves) and much of it probably covered at high-water, I stood out again that afternoon, deepening the water, and before night anchored in 8 fathom, clean white sand, about the middle of the bay. The next day we got up our anchor; and that afternoon came to an anchor once more near 2 islands and a shoal of coral rocks that face the bay. Here I scrubbed my ship; and, finding it very improbable I should get anything further here, I made the best of my way out to sea again, sounding all the way: but, finding by the shallowness of the water that there was no going out to sea to the east of the two islands that face the bay, nor between them, I returned to the west entrance, going out by the same way I came in at, only on the east instead of the west side of the small shoal to be seen in the plan; in which channel we had 10, 12, and 13 fathom water, still deepening upon us till we were out at sea. The day before we came out I sent a boat ashore to the most northerly of the 2 islands, which is the least of them, catching many small fish in the meanwhile with hook and line. The boat's crew returning told me that the isle produces nothing but a sort of green, short, hard, prickly grass, affording neither wood nor fresh water; and that a sea broke between the 2 islands, a sign that the water was shallow. They saw a large turtle and many skates and thornbacks, but caught none. THE AUTHOR'S REMOVING TO ANOTHER PART OF NEW HOLLAND: DOLPHINS, WHALES, AND MORE SEA-SERPENTS: AND OF A PASSAGE OR STRAIT SUSPECTED HERE: OF THE VEGETABLES, BIRDS, AND FISH. It was August the 14th when I sailed out of this bay or sound, the mouth of which lies, as I said, in 25 degrees 5 minutes, designing to coast along to the north-east till I might commodiously put in at some other part of New Holland. In passing out we saw 3 water-serpents swimming about in the sea, of a yellow colour, spotted with dark brown spots. They were each about 4 foot long, and about the bigness of a man's wrist, and were the first I saw on this coast, which abounds with several sorts of them. We had the winds at our first coming out at north and the land lying north-easterly. We plied off and on, getting forward but little till the next day: when the wind coming at south-south-west and south we began to coast it along the shore to the northward, keeping at 6 or 7 leagues off shore; and sounding often, we had between 40 and 46 fathom water, brown sand with some white shells. This 15th of August we were in latitude 24 degrees 41 minutes. On the 16th day at noon we were in 23 degrees 22 minutes. The wind coming at east by north we could not keep the shore aboard, but were forced to go farther off, and lost sight of the land. Then sounding we had no ground with 80 fathom line; however the wind shortly after came about again to the southward, and then we jogged on again to the northward and saw many small dolphins and whales, and abundance of scuttle-shells swimming on the sea; and some water-snakes every day. The 17th we saw the land again, and took a sight of it. The 18th in the afternoon, being 3 or 4 leagues offshore, I saw a shoal point, stretching from the land into the sea a league or more. The sea broke high on it; by which I saw plainly there was a shoal there. I stood farther off and coasted alongshore to about 7 or 8 leagues distance: and at 12 o'clock at night we sounded, and had but 20 fathom hard sand. By this I found I was upon another shoal, and so presently steered off west half an hour, and had then 40 fathom. At one in the morning of the 18th day we had 85 fathom: by two we could find no ground; and then I ventured to steer alongshore again, due north, which is two points wide of the coast (that lies north-north-east) for fear of another shoal. I would not be too far off from the land, being desirous to search into it wherever I should find an opening or any convenience of searching about for water, etc. When we were off the shoal point I mentioned where we had but 20 fathom water, we had in the night abundance of whales about the ship, some ahead, others astern, and some on each side blowing and making a very dismal noise; but when we came out again into deeper water they left us. Indeed the noise that they made by blowing and dashing of the sea with their tails, making it all of a breach and foam, was very dreadful to us, like the breach of the waves in very shoal water, or among rocks. The shoal these whales were upon had depth of water sufficient, no less than 20 fathom, as I said; and it lies in latitude 22 degrees 22 minutes. The shore was generally bold all along; we had met with no shoal at sea since the Abrolho Shoal, when we first fell on the New Holland coast in the latitude of 28, till yesterday in the afternoon, and this night. This morning also when we expected by the chart we had with us to have been 11 leagues offshore we were but 4; so that either our charts were faulty, which yet hitherto and afterwards we found true enough as to the lying of the coast, or else here was a tide unknown to us that deceived us; though we had found very little of any tide on this coast hitherto. As to our winds in the coasting thus far, as we had been within the verge of the general trade (though interrupted by the storm I mentioned) from the latitude of 28, when we first fell in with the coast: and by that time we were in the latitude of 25 we had usually the regular tradewind (which is here south-south-east) when we were at any distance from shore: but we had often sea and land-breezes, especially when near shore, and when in Shark's Bay; and had a particular north-west wind, or storm, that set us in thither. On this 18th of August we coasted with a brisk gale of the true tradewind at south-south-east, very fair and clear weather; but, hauling off in the evening to sea, were next morning out of sight of land; and the land now trending away north-easterly, and we being to the northward of it, and the wind also shrinking from the south-south-east to the east-south-east (that is, from the true tradewind to the seabreeze, as the land now lay) we could not get in with the land again yet awhile, so as to see it, though we trimmed sharp and kept close on a wind. We were this 19th day in latitude 21 degrees 42 minutes. The 20th we were in latitude 19 degrees 37 minutes and kept close on a wind to get sight of the land again, but could not yet see it. We had very fair weather, and though we were so far from the land as to be out of sight of it, yet we had the sea and land-breezes. In the night we had the land-breeze at south-south-east, a small gentle gale; which in the morning about sunrising would shift about gradually (and withal increasing in strength) till about noon we should have it at east-south-east, which is the true sea breeze here. Then it would blow a brisk gale, so that we could scarce carry our topsails double reefed: and it would continue thus till 3 in the afternoon, when it would decrease again. The weather was fair all the while, not a cloud to be seen; but very hazy, especially nigh the horizon. We sounded several times this 20th day and at first had no ground; but had afterwards from 52 to 45 fathom, coarse brown sand, mixed with small brown and white stones, with dints besides in the tallow. The 21st day also we had small land breezes in the night and seabreezes in the day: and as we saw some seasnakes every day, so this day we saw a great many, of two different sorts or shapes. One sort was yellow, and about the bigness of a man's wrist, about 4 foot long, having a flat tail about 4 fingers broad. The other sort was much smaller and shorter, round and spotted black and yellow. This day we sounded several times, and had 45 fathom sand. We did not make the land till noon, and then saw it first from our topmast-head. It bore south-east by east about 9 leagues distance; and it appeared like a cape or head of land. The seabreeze this day was not so strong as the day before, and it veered out more; so that we had a fair wind to run in with to the shore, and at sunset anchored in 20 fathom, clean sand, about 5 leagues from the bluff point; which was not a cape (as it appeared at a great distance) but the easternmost end of an island, about 5 or 6 leagues in length and 1 in breadth. There were 3 or 4 rocky islands about a league from us between us and the bluff point; and we saw many other islands both to the east and west of it, as far as we could see either way from our topmast-head: and all within them to the south there was nothing but islands of a pretty height, that may be seen 8 or 9 leagues off. By what we saw of them they must have been a range of islands of about 20 leagues in length, stretching from east-north-east to west-south-west and, for ought I know, as far as to those of Shark's Bay; and to a considerable breadth also (for we could see 9 or 10 leagues in among them) towards the continent or mainland of New Holland, if there be any such thing hereabouts: and, by the great tides I met with a while afterwards, more to the north-east, I had a strong suspicion that here might be a kind of archipelago of islands and a passage possibly to the south of New Holland and New Guinea into the great South Sea eastward; which I had thoughts also of attempting in my return from New Guinea (had circumstances permitted) and told my officers so: but I would not attempt it at this time because we wanted water and could not depend upon finding it there. This place is in the latitude of 20 degrees 21 minutes, but in the chart that I had of this coast, which was Tasman's, it was laid down in 19 degrees 50 minutes, and the shore is laid down as all along joining in one body or continent, with some openings appearing like rivers; and not like islands, as really they are. See several sights of it, Table 4 Numbers 8, 9, and 10. This place lies more northerly by 40 minutes than is laid down in Mr. Tasman's chart: and beside its being made a firm, continued land, only with some openings like the mouths of rivers, I found the soundings also different from what the pricked line of his course shows them, and generally shallower than he makes them; which inclines me to think that he came not so near the shore as his line shows, and so had deeper soundings, and could not so well distinguish the islands. His meridian or difference of longitude from Shark's Bay agrees well enough with my account, which is 232 leagues, though we differ in latitude. And to confirm my conjecture that the line of his course is made too near the shore, at least not far to the east of this place, the water is there so shallow that he could not come there so nigh. HE ANCHORS ON A THIRD PART OF NEW HOLLAND, AND DIGS WELLS, BUT BRACKISH. But to proceed: in the night we had a small land-breeze, and in the morning I weighed anchor, designing to run in among the islands, for they had large channels between them, of a league wide at least, and some 2 or 3 leagues wide. I sent in my boat before to sound, and if they found shoal water to return again; but if they found water enough to go ashore on one of the islands and stay till the ship came in: where they might in the meantime search for water. So we followed after with the ship, sounding as we went in, and had 20 fathom, till within 2 leagues of the bluff head, and then we had shoal water, and very uncertain soundings: yet we ran in still with an easy sail, sounding and looking out well, for this was dangerous work. When we came abreast of the bluff head, and about 2 mile from it, we had but 7 fathom: then we edged away from it, but had no more water; and, running in a little farther, we had but 4 fathoms; so we anchored immediately; and yet when we had veered out a third of a cable we had 7 fathom water again; so uncertain was the water. My boat came immediately aboard, and told me that the island was very rocky and dry, and they had little hopes of finding water there. I sent them to sound, and bade them, if they found a channel of 8 or 10 fathom water to keep on, and we would follow with the ship. We were now about 4 leagues within the outer small rocky islands, but still could see nothing but islands within us; some 5 or 6 leagues long, others not above a mile round. The large islands were pretty high; but all appeared dry and mostly rocky and barren. The rocks looked of a rusty yellow colour, and therefore I despaired of getting water on any of them; but was in some hopes of finding a channel to run in beyond all these islands, could I have spent time here, and either get to the main of New Holland, or find out some other islands that might afford us water and other refreshments; besides, that among so many islands we might have found some sort of rich mineral or ambergris, it being a good latitude for both these. But we had not sailed above a league farther before our water grew shoaler again, and then we anchored in 6 fathom hard sand. We were now on the inner side of the island, on whose outside is the bluff point. We rode a league from the island and I presently went ashore, and carried shovels to dig for water, but found none. There grow here 2 or three sorts of shrubs, one just like rosemary; and therefore I called this Rosemary Island. It grew in great plenty here, but had no smell. Some of the other shrubs had blue and yellow flowers; and we found 2 sorts of grain like beans: the one grew on bushes; the other on a sort of creeping vine that runs along on the ground, having very thick broad leaves and the blossom like a bean blossom, but much larger, and of a deep red colour, looking very beautiful. We saw here some cormorants, gulls, crab-catchers, etc., a few small land-birds, and a sort of white parrot, which flew a great many together. We found some shellfish, namely limpets, periwinkles, and abundance of small oysters, growing on the rocks, which were very sweet. In the sea we saw some green-turtle, a pretty many sharks, and abundance of water-snakes of several sorts and sizes. The stones were all of rusty colour, and ponderous. We saw a smoke on an island 3 or 4 leagues off; and here also the bushes had been burned, but we found no other sign of inhabitants: it was probable that on the island where the smoke was there were inhabitants, and fresh water for them. In the evening I went aboard, and consulted with my officers whether it was best to send thither, or to search among any other of these islands with my boat; or else go from hence, and coast alongshore with the ship till we could find some better place than this was to ride in, where we had shoal water and lay exposed to winds and tides. They all agreed to go from hence; so I gave orders to weigh in the morning as soon as it should be light, and to get out with the land-breeze. According, August the 23rd, at 5 in the morning we ran out, having a pretty fresh land-breeze at south-south-east. By 8 o'clock we were got out, and very seasonably; for before 9 the seabreeze came on us very strong, and increasing, we took in our topsails and stood off under 2 courses and a mizzen, this being as much sail as we could carry. The sky was clear, there being not one cloud to be seen; but the horizon appeared very hazy, and the sun at setting the night before, and this morning at rising, appeared very red. The wind continued very strong till 12, then it began to abate: I have seldom met with a stronger breeze. These strong seabreezes lasted thus in their turns 3 or 4 days. They sprang up with the sunrise; by 9 o'clock they were very strong, and so continued till noon, when they began to abate; and by sunset there was little wind, or a calm till the land-breezes came; which we should certainly have in the morning about 1 or 2 o'clock. The land-breezes were between the south-south-west and south-south-east. The seabreezes between the east-north-east and north-north-east. In the night while calm we fished with hook and line and caught good store of fish, namely, snapper, bream, old-wives, and dogfish. When these last came we seldom caught any others; for if they did not drive away the other fish, yet they would be sure to keep them from taking our hooks, for they would first have them themselves, biting very greedily. We caught also a monkfish, of which I brought home the picture. See Fish Figure 1. On the 25th of August we still coasted alongshore, that we might the better see any opening; kept sounding, and had about 20 fathom clean sand. The 26th day, being about 4 leagues offshore, the water began gradually to shoal from 20 to 14 fathom. I was edging in a little towards the land, thinking to have anchored; but presently after the water decreased almost at once, till we had but 5 fathom. I durst therefore adventure no farther, but steered out the same way that we came in; and in a short time had 10 fathom (being then about 4 leagues and a half from the shore) and even soundings. I steered away east-north-east coasting along as the land lies. This day the seabreezes began to be very moderate again, and we made the best of our way alongshore, only in the night edging off a little for fear of shoals. Ever since we left Shark's Bay we had fair clear weather, and so for a great while still. The 27th day we had 20 fathom water all night, yet we could not see land till 1 in the afternoon from our topmast-head. By 3 we could just discern land from our quarter-deck; we had then 16 fathom. The wind was at north and we steered east by north, which is but one point in on the land; yet we decreased our water very fast; for at 4 we had but 9 fathom; the next cast but 7, which frighted us; and we then tacked instantly and stood off: but in a short time the wind coming at north-west and west-north-west we tacked again, and steered north-north-east and then deepened our water again, and had all night from 15 to 20 fathom. The 28th day we had between 20 and 40 fathom. We saw no land this day but saw a great many snakes and some whales. We saw also some boobies and noddy-birds; and in the night caught one of these last. It was of another shape and colour than any I had seen before. It had a small long bill, as all of them have, flat feet like ducks' feet; its tail forked like a swallow, but longer and broader, and the fork deeper than that of the swallow, with very long wings; the top or crown of the head of this noddy was coal-black, having also small black streaks round about and close to the eyes; and round these streaks on each side a pretty broad white circle. The breast, belly, and underpart of the wings of this noddy were white; and the back and upper part of its wings of a faint black or smoke colour. See a picture of this and of the common one, Birds Figures 5 and 6. Noddies are seen in most places between the tropics, as well in the East Indies, and on the coast of Brazil, as in the West Indies. They rest ashore a-nights, and therefore we never see them far at sea, not above 20 or 30 leagues, unless driven off in a storm. When they come about a ship they commonly perch in the night, and will sit still till they are taken by the seamen. They build on cliffs against the sea, or rocks, as I have said. OF THE INHABITANTS THERE, AND GREAT TIDES, THE VEGETABLES AND ANIMALS, ETC. The 30th day being in latitude 18 degrees 21 minutes we made the land again, and saw many great smokes near the shore; and having fair weather and moderate breezes I steered in towards it. At 4 in the afternoon I anchored in 8 fathom water, clear sand, about 3 leagues and a half from the shore. I presently sent my boat to sound nearer in, and they found 10 fathom about a mile farther in; and from thence still farther in the water decreased gradually to 9, 8, 7, and 2 mile distance to 6 fathom. This evening we saw an eclipse of the moon, but it was abating before the moon appeared to us; for the horizon was very hazy, so that we could not see the moon till she had been half an hour above the horizon: and at 2 hours, 22 minutes after sunset, by the reckoning of our glasses, the eclipse was quite gone, which was not of many digits. The moon's centre was then 33 degrees 40 minutes high. The 31st of August betimes in the morning I went ashore with 10 or 11 men to search for water. We went armed with muskets and cutlasses for our defence, expecting to see people there; and carried also shovels and pickaxes to dig wells. When we came near the shore we saw 3 tall black naked men on the sandy bay ahead of us: but as we rowed in they went away. When we were landed I sent the boat with two men in her to lie a little from the shore at an anchor, to prevent being seized; while the rest of us went after the 3 black men, who were now got on the top of a small hill about a quarter of a mile from us, with 8 or 9 men more in their company. They seeing us coming ran away. When we came on the top of the hill where they first stood we saw a plain savannah, about half a mile from us, farther in from the sea. There were several things like haycocks standing in the savannah; which at a distance we thought were houses, looking just like the Hottentots' houses at the Cape of Good Hope: but we found them to be so many rocks. We searched about these for water, but could find none, nor any houses, nor people, for they were all gone. Then we turned again to the place where we landed, and there we dug for water. While we were at work there came nine or 10 of the natives to a small hill a little way from us, and stood there menacing and threatening of us, and making a great noise. At last one of them came towards us, and the rest followed at a distance. I went out to meet him, and came within 50 yards of him, making to him all the signs of peace and friendship I could; but then he ran away, neither would they any of them stay for us to come nigh them; for we tried two or three times. At last I took two men with me, and went in the afternoon along by the seaside, purposely to catch one of them, if I could, of whom I might learn where they got their fresh water. There were 10 or 12 natives a little way off, who seeing us three going away from the rest of our men, followed us at a distance. I thought they would follow us: but there being for a while a sandbank between us and them, that they could not then see us, we made a halt, and hid ourselves in a bending of the sandbank. They knew we must be thereabouts, and being 3 or 4 times our number, thought to seize us. So they dispersed themselves, some going to the seashore and others beating about the sandhills. We knew by what rencounter we had had with them in the morning that we could easily outrun them; so a nimble young man that was with me, seeing some of them near, ran towards them; and they for some time ran away before him. But he soon overtaking them, they faced about and fought him. He had a cutlass, and they had wooden lances; with which, being many of them, they were too hard for him. When he first ran towards them I chased two more that were by the shore; but fearing how it might be with my young man, I turned back quickly, and went up to the top of a sandhill, whence I saw him near me, closely engaged with them. Upon their seeing me, one of them threw a lance at me, that narrowly missed me. I discharged my gun to scare them but avoided shooting any of them; till finding the young man in great danger from them, and myself in some; and that though the gun had a little frighted them at first, yet they had soon learnt to despise it, tossing up their hands, and crying pooh, pooh, pooh; and coming on afresh with a great noise, I thought it high time to charge again, and shoot one of them, which I did. The rest, seeing him fall, made a stand again; and my young man took the opportunity to disengage himself, and come off to me; my other man also was with me, who had done nothing all this while, having come out unarmed; and I returned back with my men, designing to attempt the natives no farther, being very sorry for what had happened already. They took up their wounded companion; and my young man, who had been struck through the cheek by one of their lances, was afraid it had been poisoned: but I did not think that likely. His wound was very painful to him, being made with a blunt weapon: but he soon recovered of it. Among the New Hollanders whom we were thus engaged with, there was one who by his appearance and carriage, as well in the morning as this afternoon, seemed to be the chief of them, and a kind of prince or captain among them. He was a young brisk man, not very tall, nor so personable as some of the rest, though more active and courageous: he was painted (which none of the rest were at all) with a circle of white paste or pigment (a sort of lime, as we thought) about his eyes, and a white streak down his nose from his forehead to the tip of it. And his breast and some part of his arms were also made white with the same paint; not for beauty or ornament, one would think, but as some wild Indian warriors are said to do, he seemed thereby to design the looking more terrible; this his painting adding very much to his natural deformity; for they all of them have the most unpleasant looks and the worst features of any people that ever I saw, though I have seen great variety of savages. These New Hollanders were probably the same sort of people as those I met with on this coast in my Voyage round the World; for the place I then touched at was not above 40 or 50 leagues to the north-east of this: and these were much the same blinking creatures (here being also abundance of the same kind of flesh-flies teasing them) and with the same black skins, and hair frizzled, tall and thin, etc., as those were: but we had not the opportunity to see whether these, as the former, wanted two of their foreteeth. We saw a great many places where they had made fires; and where there were commonly 3 or 4 boughs stuck up to windward of them; for the wind (which is the seabreeze) in the daytime blows always one way with them; and the land breeze is but small. By their fireplaces we should always find great heaps of fish-shells, of several sorts; and it is probable that these poor creatures here lived chiefly on the shellfish, as those I before described did on small fish, which they caught in wires or holes in the sand at low-water. These gathered their shellfish on the rocks at low-water; but had no wires (that we saw) whereby to get any other sorts of fish: as among the former I saw not any heaps of shells as here, though I know they also gathered some shellfish. The lances also of those were such as these had; however they being upon an island, with their women and children, and all in our power, they did not there use them against us, as here on the continent, where we saw none but some of the men under head, who come out purposely to observe us. We saw no houses at either place; and I believe they have none, since the former people on the island had none, though they had all their families with them. Upon returning to my men I saw that though they had dug 8 or 9 foot deep yet found no water. So I returned aboard that evening, and the next day being September 1st I sent my boatswain ashore to dig deeper, and sent the seine with him to catch fish. While I stayed aboard I observed the flowing of the tide, which runs very swift here, so that our nun-buoy would not bear above the water to be seen. It flows here (as on that part of New Holland I described formerly) about 5 fathom: and here the flood runs south-east by south till the last quarter; then it sets right in towards the shore (which lies here south-south-west and north-north-east) and the ebb runs north-west by north. When the tides slackened we fished with hook and line, as we had already done in several places on this coast; on which in this voyage hitherto we had found but little tides: but by the height and strength and course of them hereabouts it should seem that if there be such a passage or strait going through eastward to the great South Sea, as I said one might suspect, one would expect to find the mouth of it somewhere between this place and Rosemary Island, which was the part of New Holland I came last from. Next morning my men came aboard and brought a rundlet of brackish water which they got out of another well that they dug in a place a mile off, and about half as far from the shore; but this water was not fit to drink. However we all concluded that it would serve to boil our oatmeal, for burgoo, whereby we might save the remains of our other water for drinking, till we should get more; and accordingly the next day we brought aboard 4 hogsheads of it: but while we were at work about the well we were sadly pestered with the flies, which were more troublesome to us than the sun, though it shone clear and strong upon us all the while, very hot. All this while we saw no more of the natives, but saw some of the smokes of some of their fires at 2 or 3 miles distance. The land hereabouts was much like the part of New Holland that I formerly described, it is low but seemingly barricaded with a long chain of sandhills to the sea, that lets nothing be seen of what is farther within land. At high water, the tides rising so high as they do, the coast shows very low; but when it is low water it seems to be of an indifferent height. At low-watermark the shore is all rocky, so that then there is no landing with a boat: but at high water a boat may come in over those rocks to the sandy bay which runs all along on this coast. The land by the sea for about 5 or 600 yards is a dry sandy soil, bearing only shrubs and bushes of divers sorts. Some of these had them at this time of the year, yellow flowers or blossoms, some blue, and some white; most of them of a very fragrant smell. Some had fruit like peascods; in each of which there were just ten small peas; I opened many of them, and found no more nor less. There are also here some of that sort of bean which I saw at Rosemary Island: and another sort of small, red, hard pulse, growing in cods also, with little black eyes like beans. I know not their names, but have seen them used often in the East Indies for weighing gold; and they make the same use of them at Guinea, as I have heard, where the women also make bracelets with them to wear about their arms. These grow on bushes; but here are also a fruit like beans growing on a creeping sort of shrub-like vine. There was great plenty of all these sorts of cod-fruit growing on the sandhills by the seaside, some of them green, some ripe, and some fallen on the ground: but I could not perceive that any of them had been gathered by the natives; and might not probably be wholesome food. The land farther in, that is lower than what borders on the sea, was so much as we saw of it very plain and even; partly savannahs, and partly woodland. The savannahs bear a sort of thin coarse grass. The mould is also a coarser sand than that by the seaside, and in some places it is clay. Here are a great many rocks in the large savannah we were in, which are 5 or 6 foot high, and round at top like a haycock, very remarkable; some red, and some white. The woodland lies farther in still; where there were divers sorts of small trees, scarce any three foot in circumference; their bodies 12 or 14 foot high, with a head of small knibs or boughs. By the sides of the creeks, especially nigh the sea, there grow a few small black mangrove-trees. There are but few land animals. I saw some lizards; and my men saw two or three beasts like hungry wolves, lean like so many skeletons, being nothing but skin and bones: it is probable that it was the foot of one of those beasts that I mentioned as seen by us in New Holland. We saw a raccoon or two, and one small speckled snake. The land-fowls that we saw here were crows (just such as ours in England) small hawks, and kites; a few of each sort: but here are plenty of small turtledoves that are plump, fat and very good meat. Here are 2 or 3 sorts of smaller birds, some as big as larks, some less; but not many of either sort. The sea-fowl are pelicans, boobies, noddies, curlews, sea-pies, etc., and but few of these neither. The sea is plentifully stocked with the largest whales that I ever saw; but not to compare with the vast ones of the northern seas. We saw also a great many green-turtle, but caught none; here being no place to set a turtle-net in; here being no channel for them, and the tides running so strong. We saw some sharks, and paracoots; and with hooks and lines we caught some rock-fish and old-wives. Of shellfish, here were oysters both of the common kind for eating, and of the pearl kind: and also wilks, conches, mussels, limpets, periwinkles, etc., and I gathered a few strange shells; chiefly a sort not large, and thick-set all about with rays or spikes growing in rows. And thus having ranged about a considerable time upon this coast without finding any good fresh water, or any convenient place to clean the ship, as I had hoped for: and it being moreover the height of the dry season, and my men growing scorbutic for want of refreshments, so that I had little encouragement to search further, I resolved to leave this coast and accordingly in the beginning of September set sail towards Timor. ... AN ACCOUNT OF SEVERAL PLANTS COLLECTED IN BRAZIL, NEW HOLLAND, TIMOR, AND NEW GUINEA, REFERRING TO THE FIGURES ENGRAVEN ON THE COPPER PLATES. Table 1 Figure 1. Cotton-flower from Bahia in Brazil. The flower consists of a great many filaments, almost as small as hairs, betwixt three and four inches long, of a murrey-colour; on the top of them stand small ash-coloured apices. The pedicule of the flower is enclosed at the bottom with 5 narrow stiff leaves, about 6 inches long. There is one of this genus in Mr. Ray's Supplement, which agrees exactly with this in every respect, only that is twice larger at the least. It was sent from Surinam by the name of momoo. Table 1 Figure 2. Jasminum Brasilanum luteum, mali limoniae folio nervoso, petalis crassis. Table 1 Figure 3. Crista Pavonis Brasiliana Bardanae foliis. The leaves are very tender and like the top leaves of Bardana major, both as to shape and texture: in the figure they are represented too stiff and too much serrated. Table 1 Figure 4. Filix Brasiliana Osmundae minori serrato folio. This fern is of that kind which bears its seed vessels in lines on the edge of the leaves. Table 2 Figure 1. Rapuntium Novae Hollandiae, flore magno coccineo. The perianthium composed of five long-pointed parts, the form of the seed vessel and the smallness of the seeds, together with the irregular shape of the flower and thinness of the leaves, argue this plant to be a Rapuntium. Table 2 Figure 2. Fucus foliis capillaceis brevissimis, vesiculis minimis donatis. This elegant fucus is of the Erica Marina or Sargazo kind, but has much finer parts than that. It was collected on this coast of New Holland. Table 2 Figure 3. Ricinoides Novae Hollandiae anguloso crasso folio. This plant is shrubby, has thick woolly leaves, especially on the underside. Its fruit is tricoccous, hoary on the outside with a calix divided into 5 parts. It comes near Ricini fructu parvo frucosa Curassavica, folio Phylli, P.B. pr. Table 2 Figure 4. Solanum spinosum Novae Hollandiae Phylli foliis subrotundis. This new Solanum bears a bluish flower like the others of the same tribe; the leaves are of a whitish colour, thick and woolly on both sides, scarce an inch long and near as broad. The thorns are very sharp and thick set, of a deep orange colour, especially towards the points. Table 3 Figure 1. Scabiosa (forte) Novae Hollandiae, statices foliis subtus argenteis. The flower stands on a foot-stalk 4 inches long, included in a rough calix of a yellowish colour. The leaves are not above an inch long, very narrow like Thrift, green on the upper and hoary on the underside, growing in tufts. Whether this plant be a Scabious, Thrift or Helichrysum is hard to judge from the imperfect flower of the dried specimen. Table 3 Figure 2. Alcea Novae Hollandiae foliis angustis utrinque villosis. The leaves, stalk, and underside of the perianthium of this plant are all woolly. The petala are very tender, 5 in number, scarce so large as the calix: in the middle stands a columella thick set with thrummy apiculae, which argue this plant to belong to the Malvaceous kind. Table 3 Figure 3. Of what genus this shrub or tree is is uncertain, agreeing with none yet described, as far as can be judged by the state it is in. It has a very beautiful flower, of a red colour, as far as can be guessed by the dry specimen, consisting of 10 large petala, hoary on both sides, especially underneath; the middle of the flower is thick set with stamina, which are woolly at the bottom, the length of the petala, each of them crowned with its apex. The calix is divided into 5 round pointed parts. The leaves are like those of Amelanchier Lob., green at top and very woolly underneath, not running to a point, as is common in others, but with an indenture at the upper end. Table 3 Figure 4. Dammara ex Nova-Hollandia, Sanamundae secundae Chysii foliis. This new genus was first sent from Amboina by Mr. Rumphius, by the name of Dammara, of which he transmitted 2 kinds; one with narrow and long stiff leaves, the other with shorter and broader. The first of them is mentioned in Mr. Petiver's Centuria, page 350, by the name of Arbor Hortensis Javanorum foliis visce angustioribus aromaticis floribus, spicatis flameneis lutescentibus; Mus. Pet. As also in Mr. Ray's Supplement to his History of Plants now in the press. This is of the same genus with them, agreeing both in flower and fruit, though very much differing in leaves. The flowers are stamineous and seem to be of an herbaceous colour, growing among the leaves, which are short and almost round, very stiff and ribbed on the underside, of a dark green above, and a pale colour underneath, thick set on by pairs, answering one another crossways so that they cover the stalk. The fruit is as big as a peppercorn, almost round, of a whitish colour, dry and tough, with a hole on the top, containing small seeds. Anyone that sees this plant without its seed vessels would take it for an Erica or Sanamunda. The leaves of this plant are of a very aromatic taste. Table 4 Figure 1. Equisetum Novae Hollandiae frutescens foliis longissimis. It is doubtful whether this be an Equisetum or not; the textures of the leaves agree best with that genus of any, being articulated one within another at each joint, which is only proper to this tribe. The longest of them are about 9 inches. Table 4 Figure 2. Colutea Novae Hollandiae floribus amplis coccineis, umbellatim dispositis macula purpurea notatis. There being no leaves to this plant, it is hard to say what genus it properly belongs to. The flowers are very like to the Colutea Barbae Jovis folio flore coccineo Breynii; of the same scarlet colour, with a large deep purple spot in the vexillum, but much bigger, coming all from the same point after the manner of an umbel. The rudiment of the pod is very woolly, and terminates in a filament near 2 inches long. Table 4 Figure 3. Conyza Novae Hollandiae angustis rorismarini foliis. This plant is very much branched and seems to be woody. The flowers stand on very short pedicules, arising from the sinus of the leaves, which are exactly like rosemary, only less. It tastes very bitter now dry. Table 4 Figure 4. Mohoh Insulae Timor. This is a very odd plant, agreeing with no described genus. The leaf is almost round, green on the upper side and whitish underneath, with several fibres running from the insertion of the pedicule towards the circumference, it is umbilicated as Cotyledon aquatica and Faba Aegyptia. The flowers are white, standing on single foot-stalks, of the shape of a Stramonium, but divided into 4 points only, as is the perianthium. Table 5 Figure 1. Fucus ex Nova Guinea uva marina dictus, foliis variis. This beautiful Fucus is thick set with very small short tufts of leaves, which by the help of a magnifying glass seem to be round and articulated, as if they were seed vessels; besides these there are other broad leaves, chiefly at the extremity of the branches, serrated on the edges. The vesiculae are round, of the bigness expressed in the figure. Table 5 Figure 2. Fucus ex Nova Guinea Fluviatilis Pisanae J.B. foliis. These plants are so apt to vary in their leaves, according to their different states, that it is hard to say this is distinct from the last. It has in several places (not all expressed in the figure) some of the small short leaves, or seed vessels mentioned in the former; which makes me apt to believe it the same, gathered in a different state; besides the broad leaves of that and this agree as to their shape and indentures. ... AN ACCOUNT OF SOME FISHES THAT ARE FIGURED IN PLATES 2 AND 3 FISHES. Plate 3 Figure 5. This is a fish of the tunny kind, and agrees well enough with the figure in Table 3 of the Appendix to Mr. Willughby's History of Fishes under the name of gurabuca; it differs something, in the fins especially, from Piso's figure of the guarapuca. Plate 3 Figure 4. This resembles the figure of the Guaperva maxima caudata in Willughby's Ichthyol. Table 9.23 and the guaparva of Piso, but does not answer their figures in every particular. Plate 2 Figure 2. There are 2 sorts of porpoises: the one the long-snouted porpoise, as the seamen call it; and this is the dolphin of the Greeks. The other is the bottle-nose porpoise, which is generally thought to be the phaecena of Aristotle. Plate 2 Figure 7. This is the guaracapema of Piso and Marcgrave, by others called the dorado. It is figured in Willughby's Ichthyol. Table 0.2 under the name of Delphin Belgis. ... INDEX. Allegrance, one of the Canary Islands, its view from several points. Amphisbaena (snake) described. Amplitude, difference between the morning and evening amplitude. Arifah (fruit) described. An account of several plants collected in Brazil, New Holland, Timor, and New Guinea, referring to the figures in Tables 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. An account of some fishes figured on Plates 2 and 3. Bahia de todos los Santos (Bay of All-Saints) in Brazil: its harbour and town described. the product and trade of the country. their shipping and timber. the soil and fruit of the country. the winds and seasons. the time of cutting sugarcane. its view from several points. Bill-bird described. Birds of New Holland. Blake, sunk the Spanish galleons near Tenerife. Brazil, the view of its coast, see Bahia. Britain (New), an island discovered by the author, well-inhabited, and probably affording rich commodities. Bubbles, like small pearls, swimming thick in the sea. Cables, made of a sort of hair growing on trees in Brazil. Callavances, a fruit in Mayo. Canary Islands: their product and trade. the character of their present governor. Cape of Good Hope, its view from several points. Cashew (fruit) described. Channel (English) a necessary caution to those that sail through it. Chattering-crow of Brazil described. Clocking-hens of Brazil. Coconut-trees in Brazil. Cotton (Silk) its growth and description. Crusia, a fowl. Cupang, see Kupang. Curlew, a fowl. Currecoo (Bird) described. Currents in the sea, from 7 degrees 50 minutes latitude to 3 degrees 22 minutes north. Curreso (Bird). Custard-apple described. Cuttlefish, see also Scuttle-fish. Dendees, a sort of palm-berries in Brazil. Dogs, see Water-dogs. Dunghill-fowls of Brazil. Fish of New Holland. Fish of the tunny kind, an account of. Fish called by the seamen the old-wife, an account of. Flamingo, a fowl. Flying-fish, betwixt the Canaries and Cape Verde Islands. Frape-boat, its use at the salt-pond at Mayo. Galena pintada, a bird, described. Galleons (Spanish) sunk by Admiral Blake, near Tenerife, and continue still there. Gerrit Denis (Garrett Dennis) Isle, its inhabitants described. Iguana (Guano), (beast) of New Holland. Guinea-hens, see Galena pintada. Guinea (New) its natives, etc. Hammocks, gentlemen carried about in them at Bahia in Brazil. Holland (New): coast described. its natives described. views of several parts of its coasts and islands from several points. Jago (St.): island and town. its inhabitants. its product. its animals. its road a very bad one. its view. Jenetae (Bird) described. Jenipah or Jenipapah (fruit) described. Ingwa (fruit) described. Laguna in Tenerife described. Lancerota, one of the Canary Islands, its view from several points. Mackeraw (bird) described. Malmsey wine grows in the island Tenerife. Mayo, one of the Cape Verde Islands: its view. its description. a large account of the making salt there. its soil and product. its inhabitants. its view from several points. Mendibee (fruit). Mericasah (fruit) described. Miniola, a fowl. Monkfish. Muckishaw (fruit) described. Mungaroo (fruit) described. Musteran-de-ova (fruit) described. Noddy-bird described. North-west winds give notice beforehand of their coming, at Port Oratavia in Tenerife, and how provided against. Oratavia, a port in Tenerife. Otee (fruit) described. Palm-berries in Brazil. Papah, a fruit described. Passage possibly to the south of New Holland and New Guinea into the Great South Sea eastward. Petango (fruit) described. Petrel (bird) described. Petumbo (fruit) described. Physick-nuts. Pineon (fruit). Pintado-bird described. Plants, an account of them. Plants engraven on copper, Tables 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Plants of New Holland. Porpoises. Portuguese civil to the author. Rabek, a fowl. Raccoon of New Holland. Remora (fish) Plate 11 Figure 6. Rosemary Island in New Holland, the plant resembling rosemary from which the author gives this name to the island, is figured. Salt, a large account of the method of making it at Mayo. Salt-ponds at Mayo, kern only in the dry season, others in the West Indies in the wet only. Santa Cruz in Tenerife, its road, town and harbour described. Seamen: in great danger of sickness, by neglecting to shift their wet clothes in hot countries. their ignorance and obstinacy, a great impediment in long voyages. Seaweeds, see weeds. Shark of New Holland described. Shark's Bay in New Holland described. Shearwater (bird) described. Ship (the author's) foundered at sea. Ship of 50 guns built at Brazil. Skipjack (fish) described. Snake, see Watersnake, and Amphisbaena. Soursop (fruit) described. Sugar, the way of refining it in Brazil with clay. Tasman's chart rectified. Tenerife: its wines and fruits and animals. its north-west view. Timber at Brazil as good and more durable than any in Europe. Timor. Trees of New Holland. Turtle: lay their eggs in the wet season. why not eaten by the Spaniards as by the English. Turtledoves of Brazil. Variation: where it is increased in sailing easterly. where decreased in sailing easterly. its uncertainty, and the difficulty of taking it. a large table of variations observed in this voyage. Water-dog of Brazil. Watersnake: of Brazil, its wonderful manner of catching its prey. of New Holland. Weeds floating in the sea. Whales (dead) eaten by fowls. Whales, the catching and use of them in Brazil. Whales of New Holland. Winds uncertain near the Line. Yemma (bird) described. 
28418	----	[Illustration: "If a man starts to haul on that line, I'll shoot him dead!" [See page 62.]] THE BLACK BUCCANEER BY STEPHEN W. MEADER ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR NEW YORK HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC. Twelfth printing, May, 1940 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY QUINN & BODEN COMPANY, INC., RAHWAY, N. J. FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS "If a man starts to haul on that line, I'll shoot him dead!" _Frontispiece_ FACING PAGE "Ho, ho, young woodcock, and how do ye like the company of Stede Bonnet's rovers?" 23 "Don't say a word--sh!--easy there--are you awake?" 143 A sudden red glare on the walls of the chasm 223 Job had bracketed his target 247 THE BLACK BUCCANEER CHAPTER I On the morning of the 15th of July, 1718, anyone who had been standing on the low rocks of the Penobscot bay shore might have seen a large, clumsy boat of hewn planking making its way out against the tide that set strongly up into the river mouth. She was loaded deep with a shifting, noisy cargo that lifted white noses and huddled broad, woolly backs--in fact, nothing less extraordinary than fifteen fat Southdown sheep and a sober-faced collie-dog. The crew of this remarkable craft consisted of a sinewy, bearded man of forty-five who minded sheet and tiller in the stern, and a boy of fourteen, tall and broad for his age, who was constantly employed in soothing and restraining the bleating flock. No one was present to witness the spectacle because, in those remote days, there were scarcely a thousand white men on the whole coast of Maine from Kittery to Louisberg, while at this season of the year the Indians were following the migrating game along the northern rivers. The nearest settlement was a tiny log hamlet, ten miles up the bay, which the two voyagers had left that morning. The boy's keen face, under its shock of sandy hair, was turned toward the sea and the dim outline of land that smudged the southern horizon. "Father," he suddenly asked, "how big is the Island?" "You'll see soon enough, Jeremy. Stop your questioning," answered the man. "We'll be there before night and I'll leave you with the sheep. You'll be lonesome, too, if I mistake not." [Illustration: Jeremy] "Huh!" snorted Jeremy to himself. Indeed it was not very likely that this lad, raised on the wildest of frontiers, would mind the prospect of a night alone on an island ten miles out at sea. He had seen Indian raids before he was old enough to know what frightened him; had tried his best with his fists to save his mother in the Amesbury massacre, six years before; and in a little settlement on the Saco River, when he was twelve, he had done a man's work at the blockhouse loophole, loading nearly as fast and firing as true as any woodsman in the company. Danger and strife had given the lad an alert self-confidence far beyond his years. Amos Swan, his father, was one of those iron spirits that fought out the struggle with the New England wilderness in the early days. He had followed the advancing line of colonization into the Northeast, hewing his way with the other pioneers. What he sought was a place to raise sheep. Instead of increasing, however, his flock had dwindled--wolves here--lynxes there--dogs in the larger settlements. After the last onslaught he had determined to move with his possessions and his two boys--Tom, nineteen years old, and the smaller Jeremy--to an island too remote for the attacks of any wild animal. So he had set out in a canoe, chosen his place of habitation and built a temporary shelter on it for family and flock, while at home the boys, with the help of a few settlers, had laid the keel and fashioned the hull of a rude but seaworthy boat, such as the coast fishermen used. Preparations had been completed the evening before, and now, while Tom cared for half the flock on the mainland, the father and younger son were convoying the first load to their new home. In the day when these events took place, the hundreds of rocky bits of land that line the Maine coast stood out against the gray sea as bleak and desolate as at the world's beginning. Some were merely huge up-ended rocks that rose sheer out of the Atlantic a hundred feet high, and on whose tops the sea-birds nested by the million. The larger ones, however, had, through countless ages, accumulated a layer of earth that covered their gaunt sides except where an occasional naked rib of gray granite was thrust out. Sparse grass struggled with the junipers for a foothold along the slopes, and low black firs, whose seed had been wind-blown or bird-carried from the mainland, climbed the rugged crest of each island. Few men visited them, and almost none inhabited them. Since the first long Norse galley swung by to the tune of the singing rowers, the number of passing ships had increased and their character had changed, but the isles were rarely touched at except by mishap--a shipwreck--or a crew in need of water. The Indians, too, left the outer ones alone, for there was no game to be killed there and the fishing was no better than in the sheltered inlets. It was to one of the larger of these islands, twenty miles south of the Penobscot Settlement and a little to the southwest of Mount Desert, that a still-favoring wind brought the cumbersome craft near mid-afternoon. In a long bay that cut deep into the landward shore Amos Swan had found a pebbly beach a score of yards in length, where a boat could be run in at any tide. As it was just past the flood, the man and boy had little difficulty in beaching their vessel far up toward high water-mark. Next, one by one, the frightened sheep were hoisted over the gunwale into the shallow water. The old ram, chosen for the first to disembark, quickly waded out upon dry land, and the others followed as fast as they were freed, while the collie barked at their heels. The lightened boat was run higher up the beach, and the man and boy carried load after load of tools, equipment and provisions up the slope to the small log shack, some two hundred yards away. Jeremy's father helped him drive the sheep into a rude fenced pen beside the hut, then hurried back to launch his boat and make the return trip. As he started to climb in, he patted the boy's shoulder. "Good-by, lad," said he gently. "Take care of the sheep. Eat your supper and go to bed. I'll be back before this time tomorrow." "Aye, Father," answered Jeremy. He tried to look cheerful and unconcerned, but as the sail filled and the boat drew out of the cove he had to swallow hard to keep up appearances. For some reason he could not explain, he felt homesick. Only old Jock, the collie, who shouldered up to him and gave his hand a companionable lick, kept the boy from shedding a few unmanly tears. CHAPTER II The shelter that Amos Swan had built stood on a small bare knoll, at an elevation of fifty or sixty feet above the sea. Behind it and sheltering it from easterly and southerly winds rose the island in sharp and rugged ridges to a high hilltop perhaps a mile away. Between lay ascending stretches of dark fir woods, rough outcroppings of stone and patches of hardy grass and bushes. The crown of the hill was a bare granite ledge, as round and nearly as smooth as an inverted bowl. Jeremy, scrambling through the last bit of clinging undergrowth in the late afternoon, came up against the steep side of this rocky summit and paused for breath. He had left Jock with the sheep, which comfortably chewed the cud in their pen, and, slipping a sort pistol, heavy and brass-mounted, into his belt, had started to explore a bit. He must have worked halfway round the granite hillock before he found a place that offered foothold for a climb. A crevice in the side of the rock in which small stones had become wedged gave him the chance he wanted, and it took him only a minute to reach the rounded surface near the top. The ledge on which he found himself was reasonably flat, nearly circular, and perhaps twenty yards across. [Illustration] Its height above the sea must have been several hundred feet, for in the clear light Jeremy could see not only the whole outline of the island but most of the bay as well, and far to the west the blue masses of the Camden Mountains. He was surprised at the size of the new domain spread out at his feet. The island seemed to be about seven miles in length by five at its widest part. Two deep bays cut into its otherwise rounded outline. It was near the shore of the northern one that the hut and sheep-pen were built. Southwesterly from the hill and farther away, Jeremy could see the head of the second and larger inlet. Between the bays the distance could hardly have been more than two miles, but a high ridge, the backbone of the island, which ran westward from the hilltop, divided them by its rugged barrier. Jeremy looked away up the bay where he could still see the speck of white sail that showed his father hurrying landward on a long tack with the west wind abeam. The boy's loneliness was gone. He felt himself the lord of a great maritime province, which, from his high watchtower, he seemed to hold in undisputed sovereignty. Beneath him and off to the southward lay a little island or two, and then the cold blue of the Atlantic stretching away and away to the world's rim. Even as he glowed with this feeling of dominion, he suddenly became aware of a gray spot to the southwest, a tiny spot that nevertheless interrupted his musing. It was a ship, apparently of good size, bound up the coast, and bowling smartly nearer before the breeze. The boy's dream of empire was shattered. He was no longer alone in his universe. The sun was setting, and he turned with a yawn to descend. Ships were interesting, but just now he was hungry. At the edge of the crevice he looked back once more, and was surprised to see a second sail behind the first--a smaller vessel, it seemed, but shortening the distance between them rapidly. He was surprised and somewhat disgusted that so much traffic should pass the doors of this kingdom which he had thought to be at the world's end. So he clambered down the cliff and made his way homeward, this time following the summit of the ridge till he came opposite the northern inlet. CHAPTER III It was growing dark already in the dense fir growth that covered the hillside, and when Jeremy suddenly stepped upon the moss at the brink of a deep spring, he had to catch a branch to keep from falling in. There was an opening in the trees above and enough light came through for him to see the white sand bubbling at the bottom. At one edge the water lapped softly over the moss and trickled down the northern slope of the hill in a little rivulet, which had in the course of time shaped itself a deep, well-defined bed a yard or two across. Following this, the boy soon came out upon the grassy slope beside the sheep-pen. He looked in at the placid flock, brought a bucket of water from the little stream, and, not caring to light a lantern, ate his supper of bread and cheese outside the hut on the slope facing the bay. The night settled chill but without fog. The boy wrapped his heavy homespun cloak round him, snuggled close to Jock's hairy side, and in his lonesomeness fell back on counting the stars as they came out. First the great yellow planet in the west, then, high overhead, the sparkling white of what, had he known it, was Vega; and in a moment a dozen others were in view before he could number them--Regulus, Altair, Spica, and, low in the south, the angry fire of Antares. For him they were unnamed, save for the peculiarities he discovered in each. In common with most boys he could trace the dipper and find the North Star, but he regrouped most of the constellations to suit himself, and was able to see the outline of a wolf or the head of an Indian that covered half the sky whenever he chose. He wondered what had become of Orion, whose brilliant galaxy of stars appeals to every boy's fancy. It had vanished since the spring. In it he had always recognized the form of a brig he had seen hove-to in Portsmouth Harbor--high poop, skyward-sticking bowsprit and ominous, even row of gun-ports where she carried her carronades--three on a side. How those black cannon-mouths had gaped at the small boy on the dock! He wondered-- "Boom...!" came a hollow sound that seemed to hang like mist in a long echo over the island. Before Jeremy could jump to his feet he heard the rumbling report a second time. He was all alert now, and thought rapidly. Those sounds--there came another even as he stood there--must be cannon-shots--nothing less. The ships he had seen from the hilltop were men-of-war, then. Could the French have sent a fleet? He did not know of any recent fighting. What could it mean? Deep night had settled over the island, and the fir-woods looked very black and uninviting to Jeremy when he started up the hill once more. As their shadow engulfed him, he was tempted to turn back--how he was to wish he had done so in the days that followed--but the hardy strain of adventure in his spirit kept his jaw set and his legs working steadily forward into the pitch-black undergrowth. Once or twice he stumbled over fallen logs or tripped in the rocks, but he held on upward till the trees thinned and he felt that the looming shape of the ledge was just in front. His heart seemed to beat almost as loudly as the cannonade while he felt his way up the broken stones. Panting with excitement, he struggled to the top and threw himself forward to the southern edge. A dull-gray, quiet sea met the dim line of the sky in the south. Halfway between land and horizon, perhaps a league distant, Jeremy saw two vague splotches of darkness. Then a sudden flame shot out from the smaller one, on the right. Seconds elapsed before his waiting ear heard the booming roar of the report. He looked for the bigger ship to answer in kind, but the next flash came from the right as before. This time he saw a bright sheet of fire go up from the vessel on the left, illuminating her spars and topsails. The sound of the cannon was drowned in an instant by a terrific explosion. Jeremy trembled on his rock. The ships were in darkness for a moment after that first great flare, and then, before another shot could be fired, little tongues of flame began to spread along the hull and rigging of the larger craft. Little by little the fire gained headway till the whole upper works were a single great torch. By its light the victorious vessel was plainly visible. She was a schooner-rigged sloop-of-war, of eighty or ninety tons' burden, tall-masted and with a great sweep of mainsail. Below her deck the muzzles of brass guns gleamed in the black ports. As the blazing ship drifted helplessly off to the east, the sloop came about, and, to Jeremy's amazement, made straight for the southern bay of the island. He lay as if glued to his rock, watching the stranger hold her course up the inlet and come head to wind within a dozen boat-lengths of the shore. CHAPTER IV One of the first things a backwoods boy learns is that it pays to mind your own business, _after_ you know what the other fellow is going to do. Jeremy had been threshing his brain for a solution to the scene he had just witnessed. Whether the crew of the strange sloop, just then effecting a landing in small boats, were friends or enemies it was impossible to guess. Jeremy feared for the sheep. Fresh meat would be welcome to any average ship's crew, and the lad had no doubt that they would use no scruple in dealing with a youngster of his age. He must know who they were and whether they intended crossing the island. There was no feeling of mere adventure in his heart now. It was purely sense of duty that drove his trembling legs down the hillside. He shivered miserably in the night air and felt for his pistol-butt, which gave him scant comfort. [Illustration] The ridge, which has already been described, bore in a southerly direction from the base of the ledge, and sloped steeply to the head of the southern inlet. High above the arm of the bay, where the sloop was now moored, and scarcely a quarter of a mile from the shore, the ridge projected in a rough granite crag like a bent knee. Jeremy had a very fair plan of all this in his mind, for his trained woodsman's eye had that afternoon noted every landmark and photographed it. He followed this mental map as he stumbled through the trees. It seemed a long time, perhaps twenty or thirty minutes, before he came out, stifling the sound of his gasping breath, and crouched for a minute on the bare stone to get his wind. Then he crawled forward along the rough cliff top, feeling his way with his hands. Soon he heard a distant shout. A faint glow of light shone over the edge of the crag. As he drew near, he saw, on the beach below, a great fire of driftwood and some score or more of men gathered in the circle of light. The distance was too great for him to tell much about their faces, but Jeremy was sure that no English or Colonial sloop-of-war would be manned by such a motley company. Their clothes varied from the sea-boots and sailor's jerkin of the average mariner to slashed leather breeches of antique cut and red cloth skirts reaching from the girdle to the knees. Some of the group wore three-cornered hats, others seamen's caps of rough wool, and here and there a face grimaced from beneath a twisted rag rakishly askew. Everywhere about them the fire gleamed on small-arms of one kind or another. Nearly every man carried a wicked-looking hanger at his side and most had one or two pistols tucked into waistband or holster. This desperate gang was in a constant commotion. Even as Jeremy watched, a half dozen men were rolling a barrel up the beach. Wild howls greeted its appearance and as it was hustled into the circle of bright light, those who had been dancing, quarreling and throwing dice on the other side of the fire fell over each other to join the mob that surrounded it. The leaping flames threw a weird, uncertain brilliance upon the scene that made Jeremy blink his eyes to be sure that it was real. With every moment he had become more certain what manner of men these were. His lips moved to shape a single terrible word--"Pirates!" The buccaneers were much talked of in those days, and though the New England ports were less troubled, because better guarded, than those farther south, there had been many sea-rovers hanged in Boston within Jeremy's memory. As if to clinch the argument a dozen of the ruffians swung their cannikins of rum in the air and began to shout a song at the top of their lungs. All the words that reached Jeremy were oaths except one phrase at the end of the refrain, repeated so often that he began to make out the sense of it. "Walk the bloody beggars all below!" it seemed to be--or "overboard"--he could not tell which. Either seemed bad enough to the boy just then and he turned to crawl homeward, with a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach. His way led straight back across the ridge to the spring and thence down to the shelter on the north shore. He made the best speed he was able through the woods until he reached the height of land near the middle of the island. He had crashed along caring only to reach the sheep-pen and home, but as he stood for a moment to get his breath and his bearings, the westerly breeze brought him a sound of voices on the ridge close by. He prayed fervently that the wind which had warned him had served also to carry away the sound of his progress. Cowering against a tree, he stood perfectly still while the voices--there seemed to be two--came nearer and nearer. One was a very deep, rough bass that laughed hoarsely between speeches. The other voice was of a totally different sort, with a cool, even tone, and a rather precise way of clipping the words. "See here, David," Jeremy understood the latter to say, "It's for you to remember those bearings, not me. You're the sailor here. Give them again now!" "Huh!" grunted Big Voice, "two hunder' an' ten north to a sharp rock; three-score an' five northeast by east to an oak tree in a gully; two an' thirty north to a fir tree blazed on the south; five north _an'_ there you are!" He ended in a chuckle as if pleased by the accuracy of his figures. "Ay, well enough," the other responded, "but it must be wrong, for here's the blazed tree and no spring by it." Close below, Jeremy saw their lantern flash and a moment later the two men were in full view striding among the trees. As he had almost expected from their voices, one was a tremendous, bearded fellow in sea-boots and jerkin and with a villainous turban over one eye, while his companion was a lean, smooth-shaven man, dressed in a fine buff coat, well-fitting breeches and hose, and shoes with gleaming buckles. They must have passed within ten feet of the terrified Jeremy while the tossing lantern, swung from the hairy fist of the man called David, shone all too distinctly upon the boy's huddled shape. When they were gone by he allowed himself a sigh of relief, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. A twig broke loudly and both men stopped and listened. "'Twas nought!" growled David. The other man paid no attention to him other than to say, "Hold you the lantern here!" and advanced straight toward Jeremy's tree. The boy froze against it, immovable, but it was of no avail. "Aha," said the lean man, quietly, and gripped the lad's arm with his hand. As he dragged him into the light, his companion came up, staring with astonishment. A moment he was speechless, then began ripping out oath after oath under his breath. "How," he asked at length, "did the blarsted whelp come here?" The smaller man, who had been looking keenly into Jeremy's face, suddenly addressed him: "Here you, speak up! Do you live here?" he cried. "Ay," said the boy, beginning to get a grip on his thoughts. "How long has there been a settlement here? There was none last Autumn," continued the well-dressed man. Jeremy had recovered his wits and reasoned quickly. He had little chance of escape for the present, while he must at all costs keep the sheep safe. So he lied manfully, praying the while to be forgiven. "'Tis a new colony," he mumbled, "a great new colony from Boston town. There be three ships of forty guns each in the north harbor, and they be watching for pirates in these parts," he finished. "Boy!" growled the bearded man, seizing Jeremy's wrist and twisting it horribly. "Boy! Are you telling the truth?" With face white and set and knees trembling from the pain, the lad nodded and kept his voice steady as he groaned an "Ay!" The two men looked at each other, scowling. The giant broke silence. "We'd best haul out now, Cap'n," he said. "And so I believe," the other replied, "But the water-casks are empty. Here!" as he turned to Jeremy, "show us the spring." It was not far away and the boy found it without trouble. "Now, Dave Herriot," said the Captain, "stay you here with the light, that we may return hither the easier. Boy, come with me. Make no fuss, either, or 'twill be the worse for you." And so saying he walked quickly back toward the southern shore, holding the stumbling Jeremy's wrist in a grip of iron. Crashing down the hill through the brush, the lad had scant time or will for observing things about him, but as they crossed a gully he saw, or fancied he saw, on the knee-shaped crag above, the slouched figure of a buccaneer silhouetted against the sky. It was not the bearded giant called Herriot, but another, Jeremy was sure. He had no time for conjectures, for they plunged into the thicket and birch limbs whipped him across the face. CHAPTER V The events of that night made a terribly clear impression on the mind of the young New Englander. Years afterward he would wake with a shiver, imagining that the relentless hand of the pirate captain was again dragging him toward an unknown fate. It must have been the darkness and the sudden unexpectedness of it all that frightened him, for as soon as they came down the rocks into the flaring firelight he was able to control himself once more. The wild carouse was still in progress among the crew. Fierce faces, with unkempt beards and cruel lips, leered redly from above hairy, naked chests. Eyes, lit from within by liquor and from without by the dancing flames, gleamed below black brows. Many of the men wore earrings and metal bands about the knots of their pig-tails, while silver pistol-butts flashed everywhere. As the Captain strode into the center of this group, the swinging chorus fell away to a single drunken voice which kept on uncertainly from behind the rum-barrel. "Silence!" said the Captain sharply. The voice dwindled and ceased. All was quiet about the fire. "Men," went on Jeremy's captor, "clear heads, all, for this is no time for drinking. We have found this boy upon the hill, who tells of a fleet of armed ships not above a league from here. We must set sail within an hour and be out of reach before dawn. Every man now take a water-keg and follow me. You, Job Howland, keep the boy and the watch here on the beach." Fresh commotion broke out as he finished. "Ay, ay, Captain Bonnet!" came in a broken chorus, as the crew, partially sobered by the words, hurried to the long-boat, where a line of small kegs lay in the sand. A moment later they were gone, plowing up the hillside. Jeremy stood where he had been left. A tall, slack-jointed pirate in the most picturesque attire strolled over to the boy's side and looked him up and down with a roguish grin. Under his cloak Jeremy had on fringed leather breeches and tunic such as most of the northern colonists wore. The pirate, seeing the rough moccasins and deerskin trousers, burst into a roar. "Ho, ho, young woodcock, and how do ye like the company of Major Stede Bonnet's rovers?" [Illustration: "Ho, ho, young woodcock, and how do ye like the company of Stede Bonnet's rovers?"] The lad said nothing, shut his jaw hard and looked the big buccaneer squarely in the face. There was no fear in his expression. The man nodded and chuckled approvingly. "That's pluck, boy, that's pluck," said he. "We'll clip the young cock's shank-feathers, and maybe make a pirate of him yet." He stooped over to feel the buckskin fringe on Jeremy's leg. The boy's hand went into his shirt like a flash. He had pulled out the pistol and cocked it, when he felt both legs snatched from under him. His head hit the ground hard and he lay dazed for a second or two. When he regained his senses, Job Howland stood astride of him coolly tucking the pistol into his own waist-band. "Ay," said Job, "ye'll be a fine buccaneer, only ye should have struck with the butt. I heard the click." The pirate seemed to hold no grudge for what had occurred and sat down beside Jeremy in a friendly fashion. "Free tradin' ain't what it was," he confided. "When Billy Kidd cleared for the southern seas twenty years agone, they say he had papers from the king himself, and no man-of-war dared come anigh him." He swore gently and reminiscently as he went on to detail the recent severities of the Massachusetts government and the insecurity of buccaneers about the Virginia capes. "They do say, tho', as Cap'n Edward Teach, that they call Blackbeard, is plumb thick with all the magistrates and planters in Carolina, an' sails the seas as safe as if he had a fleet of twenty ships," said Job. "We sailed along with him for a spell last year, but him an' the old man couldn't make shift to agree. Ye see this Blackbeard is so used to havin' his own way he wanted to run Stede Bonnet, too. That made Stede boilin', but we was undermanned just then and had to bide our time to cut loose. "Cap'n Bonnet, ye see, is short on seamanship but long in his sword arm. Don't ye never anger him. He's terrible to watch when he's raised. Dave Herriot sails the ship mostly, but when we sight a big merchantman with maybe a long nine or two aboard, then's when Stede Bonnet comes on deck. That Frenchman we sunk tonight, blast her bloody spars"--here the lank pirate interrupted himself to curse his luck, and continued--"probably loaded with sugar and Jamaica rum from Martinique and headed up for the French provinces. Well, we'll never know--that's sure!" He paused, bit off the end of a rope of black tobacco and meditatively surveyed the boy. "I'm from New England myself," said he after a time. "Sailed honest out of Providence Port when I was a bit bigger nor you. Then when I was growed and an able seaman on a Virginia bark in the African trade, along comes Cap'n Ben Hornygold, the great rover of those days and picks us up. Twelve of the likeliest he takes on his ship, the rest he maroons somewhere south of the Cubas, and sends our bark into Charles Town under a prize crew. So I took to buccaneering, and I must own I've always found it a fine occupation--not to say that it's made me rich--maybe it might if I'd kept all my sharin's." [Illustration: Job Howland] This life-history, delivered almost in one breath, had caused Howland an immense amount of trouble with his quid of tobacco, which nearly choked him as he finished. Except for the sound of his vast expectorations, the pair on the beach were quiet for what seemed to Jeremy a long while. Then on the rocks above was heard the clatter of shoes and the bumping of kegs. Job rose, grasping the hand of his charge, and they went to meet the returning sailors. To the young woodsman, utterly unused to the ways of the sea, the next half-hour was a bewildering mêlée of hurrying, sweating toil, with low-spoken orders and half-caught oaths and the glimmer of a dying fire over all the scene. He was rowed to the sloop with the first boatload and there Job Howland set him to work passing water-kegs into the hold. He had had no rest in over twenty hours and his whole body ached as the last barrel bumped through the hatch. All the crew were aboard and a knot of swaying bodies turned the windlass to the rhythm of a muttered chanty. The chain creaked and rattled over the bits till the dripping anchor came out of water and was swung inboard. The mainsail and foresail went up with a bang, as a dozen stalwart pirates manned the halyards. Dave Herriot stood at the helm, abaft the cabin companion, and his bull voice roared the orders as he swung her head over and the breeze steadied in the tall sails. "Look alive there, mates!" he bellowed. "Stand by now to set the main jib!" Like most of the pirate sloops-of-war, Stede Bonnet's _Revenge_ was schooner-rigged. She carried fore and main top-sails of the old, square style, and her long main boom and immense spread of jib gave her a tremendous sail area for her tonnage. The breeze had held steadily since sundown and was, if anything, rising a little. Short seas slapped and gurgled at the forefoot with a pleasant sound. Jeremy, desperately tired, had dropped by the mast, scarcely caring what happened to him. The sloop slid out past the dark headlands, and heeled to leeward with a satisfied grunt of her cordage that came gently to the boy's ears. His head sank to the deck and he slept dreamlessly. CHAPTER VI A rough hand shook him awake. He was lying in a dingy bunk somewhere in the gloom of the cramped forecastle. "Come, young'un," growled a voice, strange to Jeremy, "you've slept the clock around! Cap'n wants you aft." The lad ached in all his bones as he rolled over toward the light. As he came to a sitting position on the edge of the bunk, he gave a start, for the face scowling down at him looked utterly fiendish to his sleepy eyes. Its ugliness fairly shocked him awake. The man had a grim, bristly jaw and a twisted mouth. His eyes were small and cruel, so light in color that they looked unspeakably cold. The livid gray line of a sword-cut ran from his left eyebrow to his right cheek, and his nose was crushed inward where the scar crossed its bridge, giving him more the look of an animal than of a man. A greasy red cloth bound his head and produced a final touch of barbarity. To the half-dazed Jeremy there seemed something strangely familiar about his pose, but as he still stared he was jerked to his feet by the collar. "Don't stand there, you lubber!" shouted the man with the broken nose. "Get aft, an' lively!" A hard shove sent the boy spinning to the foot of the ladder. He climbed dizzily and stumbled on deck, looking about him, uncertain where to go. It must have been past noon, for the sun was on the starboard bow. The _Revenge_ was close-hauled and running southwest on a fresh west wind. Dave Herriot leaned against the weather rail, a short clay pipe in one fist and his bushy brown beard in the other. At the wheel was a swarthy man with earrings, who looked like a Portuguese or a Spaniard. Glancing over his shoulder, Jeremy saw most of the crew lolled about forward of the fo'c's'le hatch. Herriot looked up and called him gruffly but not unkindly, the boy thought. He advanced close to the sailing-master, staggering a little on the uneven footing. "Now look sharp, lad," said the pirate in a stern voice, "and mind what I tell 'ee. There's nought to fear aboard this sloop for them as does what they're told. We run square an' fair, an' while Major Stede Bonnet and David Herriot gives the orders, no man'll harm ye. _But_"--and a hard look came into the tanned face--"if there's any runnin' for shore 'twixt now and come time to _set_ ye there, or if ever ye takes it in yer head to disobey orders, we'll keel-haul ye straight and think no more about it. You're big and strong, an' may make a foremast hand. For the first on it, until ye get your sea legs, ye can be a sort o' cabin boy. Cap'n wants ye below now. Quick!" Jeremy scrambled down the companionway indicated by a gesture of Herriot's pipe. There was a door on each side and one at the end of the small passage. He advanced and knocked at this last one, and was told, in the Captain's clear voice, to open. Major Bonnet sat at a good mahogany table in the middle of the cabin. Behind him were a bunk, two chairs and a rack of small arms, containing half a dozen guns, four brace of pistols, and several swords. He had been reading a book, evidently one of the score or more which stood in a case on the right. Jeremy gasped, for he had never seen so many books in all his life. As the Captain looked up, a stern frown came over his face, never a particularly merry one. The boy, ignorant as he was of pirates, could not help feeling that this man's quietly gentle appearance fitted but ill with the blood-thirsty reputation he bore. His clothes were of good quality and cut, his grayish hair neatly tied behind with a black bow and worn unpowdered. His clean-shaven face was long and austere--like a Boston preacher's, thought Jeremy--and although the forehead above the intelligent eyes was high and broad, there was a strange lack of humor in its vertical wrinkles. "Well, my lad," said the cool voice at last, "you're aboard the _Revenge_ and a long way from your settlement, so you might as well make the best of it. How long you _stay_ aboard depends on your behavior. We might put into the Chesapeake, and if there are no cutters about, I'd consider setting you ashore. But if you like the sea and take to it, there's room for a hand in the fo'c's'le. Then again, if you try any tricks, you'll leave us--feet first, over the rail." He leaned forward and hissed slightly as he pronounced the last words. Something in the eyes under his knotted gray brows struck deeper terror into the boy's heart than either Herriot's threat or the cruel face of the man with the broken nose. For that instant Bonnet seemed deadly as a snake. [Illustration: Stede Bonnet] Jeremy was much relieved when he was bidden to go. The sailing-master stood by the companionway as he ascended. "You'll bunk for'ard," he remarked curtly. "Go up with the crew now." The boy slipped into the crowd that lay around the windlass as unobstrusively as he could. A thick-set, bearded man with a great hairy chest, bare to the yellow sash at his waist, was speaking. "Ay," he said, "a hundred Indians was dead in the town before ever we landed. They didn't know where to run except into the huts, an' those our round-shot plowed through like so much grass--which was what they was, mostly. Then old Johnny Buck piped the longboat overside and on shore we went, firin' all the time. Cap'n Vane himself, with a dirk in his teeth and sword an' pistol out, goes swearin' up the roadway an' we behind him, our feet stickin' in blood. A few come out shootin' their little arrers at us, but we herded 'em an' drove 'em, yellin' all the time. At close quarters their knives was no match for cutlasses. So we went slashin' through the town, burnin' 'em out an' stickin' 'em when they ran. Our sword arms was red to shoulder that day, but we was like men far gone in rum an' never stayed while an Indian held up head. Then we dropped and slept where we fell, across a corp', like as not, clean tuckered, every man of us. Come mornin', the sight and smell of the place made us sober enough and not a man in the crew wanted to go further into the island. There was no gold in the town, neither. All we got was a few hogs and sheep. We left the same day, for it come on hot an' we had no way to clean up the mess. That island must ha' been a nuisance to the whole Caribbean for weeks." Job Howland nodded and spat as the story ended. "Ye're right, George Dunkin," he said. "That was a day's work. Vane's a hard man, I'm told, an' that crew in the _Chance_ was one of his worst." He was interrupted by a villainous old sea-dog with a sparse fringe of white beard, who sprawled by the hatchway. He cleared his throat hoarsely and spoke with a deep wheeze between sentences. "All that was nowt to our fight off Panama in the spring of 'eighty," he growled. "We weren't slaughterin' Indians, but Spaniards that could fight, an' did. What's more, they were three good barks and nigh three hundred men to our sixty-eight men paddlin' in canoes. Ah, that was a day's work, if you will! I saw Peter Harris, as brave a commander as ever flew the black whiff, shot through both legs, but he was a-swingin' his cutlass and tryin' to climb the Spaniard's side with the rest when our canoe boarded. Through most of that battle we was standin' in bottoms leakin' full of bullet holes, a-firin' into the Biscayner's gun-ports, an' cheerin' the bloody lungs out of us! When we got aboard, their hold was full of dead men an' their scuppers washin' red. They asked no quarter an' on we went, up an' down decks, give an' take. At the last, six men o' them surrendered. The rest--eighty from the one ship--we fed to the sharks before we could swab decks next day. Eh, but that was a v'yage, an' it cost the seas more good buccaneers than ever was hanged. Harris an' Sawkins an' half o' their best men we left on the Isthmus. But out of one galleon we took fifty thousand pieces-of-eight, besides silver bars in cord piles. Think o' that, lads!" A fair, stocky, young deserter from a British man-of-war--his forearm bore the tattooed service anchor--broke in, his eyes gleaming greedily at the thought of the treasure. "That was in New Panama," he cried. "Do you mind old Ben Gasket we took off Silver Key last summer! Eighty years old he was, and marooned there for half his life. He was with Morgan at the great sack of Old Panama before most on us was born. An' Old Ben, he said there was nigh two hundred horse-loads o' gold an' pearls, rubies, emeralds and diamonds took out o' that there town, an' it a-burnin' still, after they'd been there a month. Talk o' wealth!" The man with the broken nose raised himself from his place by the capstan and stretched his hairy arms with an evil, leering yawn. Every eye turned to him and there was silence on the deck as he began to speak. "Dollars--louis d'ors--doubloons?" said he. "There was one man got 'em. Solomon Brig got 'em. All the rest was babes to him--babes an' beggars. Billy Kidd was thought a great devil in his day, but when he met Brig's six-gun sloop off Malabar, he turned tail, him an' his two great galleons, an' ran in under the forts. Even then we'd ha' had him out an' fought him, only that the old man had an Indian princess aboard he was takin' in to Calicut for ransom. That was where Sol Brig got his broad gold--kidnappin'. Twenty times we worked it--a dash in an' a fight out, quick an' bloody--then to sea in the old red sloop, all her sails fair pullin' the sticks out of her, an' maybe a man-o'-war blazin' away at our quarter. Weeks after, we'd slip into some port bold as brass an' there, sure enough, Brig would set the prisoner ashore an' load maybe a hundred weight of little canvas bags or a stack of pig-silver half a man's height. The very name of him made him safe. I'd take oath he could have stole the Lord Mayor o' London and then put in for his ransom at Execution Dock. "We got good lays, us before the mast, but there never was a fair sharin' aboard that ship. One night I crawled aft an' looked in the stern-port. 'Twas just after we'd got our lays for kidnappin' the Governor o' Santiago--a rich town as you know. In the cabin sat ol' Brig, a bare cutlass acrost his lap, countin' piles o' moidores that filled the whole table. When a rope creaked the old fox saw me an' let drive with his hanger. Where I was I couldn't dodge quick, an' the blade took me here, acrost the face. Why he never knifed me, after, I don't know." The scarred man stopped with the same abruptness that had marked his beginning. His fierce, light eyes, like those of a sea-hawk, swept slowly around the audience and lit on Jeremy. He reached forward, clutched the boy's shirt, and with an ugly laugh jerked him to his feet. "'Twas havin' boys aboard as killed Sol Brig," he rasped. [Illustration: Pharaoh Daggs] "They hear too much! Look at this young lubber"--giving him a shake--"pale as a mouldy biscuit! No use aboard here an' poverty-poor in the bargain! Why Stede don't walk him over the side, I don't see. Here, get out, you swab!" and he emphasized the name with a stiff cuff on the ear. Job Howland interposed his long Yankee body. His lean face bent with a scowl to the level of the other's eyes. "Pharaoh Daggs," he drawled evenly, "next time you touch that lad, there'll be steel between your short ribs. Remember!" He turned to Jeremy who, poor boy, was utterly and forlornly seasick. "Here, young 'un," he said kindly, "--the _lee_ rail!" CHAPTER VII Bright summer weather hovered over the Atlantic as the _Revenge_ ploughed smartly southward. Jeremy grew more accustomed to his new manner of life from day to day and as he found his sea-legs he began to take a great pleasure in the free, salt wind that sang in the rigging, the blue sparkle of the swells, and the circling whiteness of the offshore gulls. He was left much to himself, for the Captain demanded his services only at meal times and to set his cabin in order in the morning. In the long intervals the boy sat, inconspicuous in a corner of the fore-deck, watching the gayly dressed ruffians of the crew, as they threw dice or quarrelled noisily over their winnings. He was assigned to no watch, but usually went below at the same time as Job Howland, thus keeping out of the way of Daggs, the man with the broken nose. As Howland was in the port watch, on deck from sunset to midnight, Jeremy often took comfort in the sight of his loved stars wheeling westward through the taut shrouds. He would stand there with a lump in his throat as he thought of his father's anguish on returning to the island to find the sheep uncared for and the young shepherd vanished. In a region desolate as that, he knew that there was but one conclusion for them to reach. Still, they might find the ashes of the pirate fire and keep up a hope that he yet lived. But the boy could not be unhappy for long. He would find his way home soon, and he fairly shivered with delight as he planned the grand reunion that would take place when he should return. Perhaps he even imagined himself marching up to the door in sailor's blue cloth with a seaman's cloak and cocked hat, pistol and cutlass in his belt and a hundred gold guineas in his poke. Not for worlds would he have turned pirate, but the romance of the sea had touched him and he could not help a flight of fancy now and then. Sometimes in the long hours of the watch, Job would give him lessons in seamanship--teach him the names of ropes and spars and show how each was used. The boy's greatest delight was to steer the ship when Job took his trick at the helm. This was no small task for a boy even as strong as Jeremy. The sloop, like all of her day, had no wheel but was fitted with a massive hand tiller, a great curved beam of wood that kicked amazingly when it was free of its lashings. Of course, no grown man could have held it in a seaway, but during the calm summer nights Jeremy learned to humor the craft along, her mainsail just drawing in the gentle land breeze, and her head held steadily south, a point west. One night--it was perhaps a week after Jeremy's capture, and they had been sighting low bits of land on both bows all day--Dave Herriot came on deck about the middle of the watch and told Curley, the Jamaican second mate, he might go below. He set Job to take soundings and, himself taking the tiller, swung her over to port with the wind abeam. Jeremy went to the bows where he could see the white line of shore ahead. They drew in, steering by Job's soundings, and by the time the watch changed were ready to cast anchor in a small sandy bay. Herriot came forward, scowling darkly under his bushy eyebrows, and rumbling an occasional oath to himself. The sloop, her anchor down and sails furled, swung idly on the tide. The men were clearly mystified as the sailing-master started to give orders. "George Dunkin," he said, "take ten men of the starboard watch, and go ashore to forage. There be farms near here and any pigs or fowls you may come across will be welcome. You, Bill Livers," addressing the ship's painter, "take a lantern and your paint-pot and come aft with me. All the rest stay on deck and keep a double lookout, alow an' aloft!" The forage party slipped quietly off toward the beach in one of the boats. The remainder of the crew looked blankly after the retreating Bill Livers. "Hm," murmured Job, "has Stede Bonnet gone _clean_ crazy?"--and as Herriot let the painter down over the bulwark at the stern--"Ay, he's goin' to change her name, by the great Bull Whale!" An hour before dawn the crew of the long-boat returned, grumbling and empty-handed. Herriot appeared preoccupied with some weightier matter and scarcely deigned to notice their failure by swearing. There was no singing as the anchor was raised. A sort of gloom hung over the whole ship. As she stole out to sea again, the men, one by one, went aft and leaned outboard, peering down at the broad, squat stern. Jeremy did likewise and beheld in new white letters on the black of the hull, the words _Royal James._ Next day in the fo'c's'le council he learned why the renaming of the _Revenge_ had cast a pall of apprehension over the crew. There were low-muttered tales of disaster--of storm, shipwreck, and fire, and that dread of all sailors--the unknown fate of ships that never come back to port. Apparently the rule was unfailing. Sooner or later the ship that had been given a new name would come to grief and her crew with her. Pharaoh Daggs cast an eye of hatred at Jeremy and growled that "one Jonah was enough to have abroad, without clean drownin' all the luck this way," while the crew looked black and shifted uneasily in their places. The bay where they had anchored overnight must have been somewhere on the eastern end of Long Island, a favorite landing place for pirates at that time. All day they cruised along the hilly southern shore. The men seemed unable to cast off the gloom that had settled upon them. Stede Bonnet sat in his cabin, never once coming on deck, and drinking hard, a thing unusual for him. Jeremy, who saw more of him than any of the foremast hands, realized from his gray, set face that the man was under a terrible strain of some sort. He told Job what he had seen and the tall New Englander looked very thoughtful. He took the boy aside. "There'll be mutiny in this crew before another night," he whispered. "They'll never stand for what he's done. If it comes to handspikes, you and I'd best watch our chance to clear out. Pharaoh Daggs don't love us a mite." But the mutiny was destined not to occur. An hour before noon next day the lookout, constantly stationed in the bows, gave a loud "Sail ho!" and as Dave Herriot re-echoed the shout, all hands tumbled on deck with a rush. CHAPTER VIII As the pirate sloop raced southward under full sail, the form of the other ship became steadily plainer. She was a brig, high-pooped, and tall-masted, and apparently deeply laden. Major Bonnet, who had come up at the first warning, seemed his old cool self as he conned the enemy through a spyglass. Jeremy had been detailed as a sort of errand boy, and as he stood at the Captain's side he heard him speaking to Herriot. "She's British, right enough," he was saying. "I can make out her flag; but how many guns, 'tis harder to tell. She sees us now, I think, for they seem to be shaking out a topsail.... Ah, now I can see the sun shine on her broadside--two ... three ... five in the lower port tier, and three more above--sixteen in all. 'Twill be a fight, it seems!" Aboard the _Royal James_ the men were slaving like ants, preparing for the battle. Every man knew his duties. The gunners and swabbers were putting their cannon in fettle below decks. Others were rolling out round-shot from the hold and storing powder in iron-cased lockers behind the guns. Great tubs of sea water were placed conveniently in the 'tween-decks and blankets were put to soak for use in case of fire. Buckets of vinegar water for swabbing the guns were laid handy. In the galley the cook made hot grog. Cutlasses were looked after, pistols cleaned and loaded and muskets set out for close firing. Jeremy was sent hither and thither on every imaginable mission, a tremendous excitement running in his veins. The sloop gained rapidly on her prey, hauling over to windward as she sailed, and when the two ships were almost within cannon range, Stede Bonnet with his own hand bent the "Jolly Roger" to the lanyard and sent the great black flag with its skull and crossbones to fly from the masthead. The grog was served out. No man would have believed that the roaring, rollicking gang of cutthroats who tossed off their liquor in cheers and ribald laughter was identical with the grumbling, sour-faced crew of twenty hours before. As they finished, something came skipping over the water astern and the first echoing report followed close. The cannonade was on. A loud yell of defiance swept the length of the _Royal James_ as the men went to their posts. The gun decks ran along both sides of the sloop a few feet above the water line. They were like alleyways beneath the main deck, barely wide enough to admit the passage of a man or a keg of powder behind the gun-carriages. These latter were not fixed to the planking as afterward became the fashion, but ran on trucks and were kept in their places by rope tackles. In action, the recoil had to be taken up by men who held the ends of these ropes, rove through pulleys in the vessel's side. Despite their efforts the gun would sometimes leap back against the bulkhead hard enough to shatter it. As the charge for each reloading had to be carried sometimes half the length of the ship by hand, it is easy to see that the men who served the guns needed some strength and agility in getting past the jumping carriages. Jeremy was sent below to help the gunners, as the shot from the merchantman continued to scream by. Job Howland was a gunner on the port side and the boy naturally lent his services to the one man aboard that he could call his friend. There was much bustle in the alley behind the closed ports but surprisingly little confusion was apparent. The discipline seemed better than at any time since the boy had been brought aboard the black sloop. Job was ramming the wad home on the charge of powder in his bow gun. The other four guns in the port deck were being loaded at the same time, three men tending each one. "Here, lad," sang out Job, as he put the single iron shot in at the muzzle, "take one o' the wet blankets out o' yon tub an' stand by to fight sparks." Jeremy did as he was bid, then got out of the way as the ports were flung open and the guns run forward, with their evil bronze noses thrust out into the sunlight. The sloop, running swiftly with the wind abeam, had now drawn abreast of her unwieldy adversary. The merchant captain, apparently, finding himself out-speeded and being unable to spare his gun crews to trim sails, had put the head of his ship into the wind, where she stood, with canvas flapping, her bows offering a steady mark to the pirate. "Ready a port broadside!" came Bonnet's ringing order, and then--"Fire!" Job Howland's blazing match went to the touch-hole at the word and his six-pounder, roaring merrily, jumped back two good feet against the straining ropes of the tackle. Instantly the next gun spoke and the next and so on, all five in a space of a bare ten seconds. Had they been fired simultaneously they might have shaken the ship to pieces. Jeremy was half-deafened, and his whole body was jarred. Thick black smoke hung in the alleyway, for the ports had been closed in order to reload in greater safety. The boy felt the deck heel to starboard under him and thought at first that a shot had caught them under the waterline, but when he was sent above to find out whether the broadside had taken effect, he found that the sloop had come about and was already driving north still to windward of the enemy. Bonnet was giving his gunners more time to load by running back and forth and using his batteries alternately. Herriot had the tiller and in response to Jeremy's question he pointed to the fluttering rags of the brig's foresail and the smoke that issued from a splintered hole under her bow chains. Below in the gun deck the buccaneers, sweating by their pieces, heard the news with cheers. The sloop shook to the jarring report of the starboard battery a moment later, and hardly had it ceased when she came about on the other tack. "Hurrah," cried Job's mates, "we'll show him this time! Wind an' water--wind an' water!" The open traps showed the green seas swirling past close below, and off across the swells the tall side of the merchantman swaying in the trough of the waves. "Ready!" came the order and every gunner jumped to the breach, match in hand. Before the command came to fire there was a crash of splintering wood and a long, intermittent roar came over the water. The brig had taken advantage of her falling off the wind to deliver a broadside in her own turn. Stede Bonnet's voice, cool as ever, gave the order and four guns answered the brig's discharge. The crew of the middle cannon lay on the deck in a pitiable state, two killed outright and the gunner bleeding from a great splinter wound in the head. A shot had entered to one side of the port, tearing the planking to bits and after striking down the two gun-servers, had passed into the fo'c's'le. Jeremy jumped forward with his blanket in time to stamp out a blaze where the firing-match had been dropped, and with the help of one of the pirates dragged the wounded man to his berth. Almost every shot of the last volley had done damage aboard the brig. Her freeboard, twice as high as that of the sloop, had offered a target which for expert gunners was hard to miss. Jagged openings showed all along her side, and as she rose on a swell, Job shouted, "See there! She's leakin' now. 'Twas my last shot did that--right on her waterline!" "All hands on deck to board her!" came a shout, almost at the same instant. Jeremy hurrying up with the rest found the sloop bearing down straight before the wind, and only a dozen boat's lengths from the enemy. A wild whoop went up among the pirates. Every man had seized on a musket and was crouching behind the rail. Bonnet alone stood on the open deck, his buff coat blowing open and his hand resting lightly on his sword. An occasional cannon shot screamed overhead or splashed away astern. Apparently the brig's batteries were too greatly damaged and her crew too badly shot up to offer an effective bombardment. She was drifting helplessly under tattered ribbons of canvas and the _Royal James_, whose sails had suffered far less, bore down upon her opponent with the swoop of a hawk. As she drew close aboard a scattered fusillade of small arms broke out from the brig's poop, wounding one man, a Portuguese, but for the most part striking harmlessly against the bulwark. The buccaneers held their fire till they were scarce a boat's length distant. Then at the order they swept the ship with a withering musket volley. The brig was down by the head and lay almost bow on so that her deck was exposed to Bonnet's marksmen. Herriot brought his sloop about like a flash and almost before Jeremy realized what was toward, the ships had bumped together side by side, and the howling mob of pirates was swarming over the enemy's rail. Job Howland and another man took great boat-hooks, with which they grappled the brig's ports and kept the two vessels from drifting apart. Jeremy was alone upon the sloop's deck. He put the thickness of the mast between him and the hail of bullets and peered fearfully out at the terrible scene above. [Illustration: Dave Herriot] The crew of the brig had been too much disorganized to repel the boarders as well as they might, and the entire horde of wild barbarians had scrambled to her deck, where a perfect inferno now held sway. The air seemed full of flying cutlasses that produced an incessant hiss and clangor. Pistols banged deafeningly at close quarters and there was the constant undertone of groans, cries and bellowed oaths. Above the din came the terrible, clear voice of Stede Bonnet, urging on his seadogs. He had become a different man from the moment his foot touched the merchantman's deck. From the cool commander he had changed to a devil incarnate, with face distorted, eyes aflame, and a sword that hacked and stabbed with the swift ferocity of lightning. Jeremy saw him, fighting single-handed with three men. His long sword played in and out, to the right and to the left with a turn and a flash, then, whirling swiftly, pinned a man who had run up behind. Bonnet's feet moved quickly, shifting ground as stealthily as a cat's and in a second he had leaped to a safer position with his back to the after-house. Two of his opponents were down, and the third fighting wearily and without confidence, when a huge, flaxen-haired man burst from the hatch to the deck and swung his broad cutlass to such effect that the battling groups in his path gave way to either side. The burly form of Dave Herriot opposed the new enemy and as the two giants squared off, sword ringing on sword, more than one wounded sailor raised himself to a better position, grinning with the Anglo-Saxon's unquenchable love of a fair fight. Herriot was no mean swordsman of the rough and ready seaman's type and had a great physique as well, but his previous labors--he had been the first man on board and had already accounted for a fair share of the defenders--had rendered him slow and arm-weary. The ready parrying, blade to blade, ceased suddenly as his foot slipped backward in a pool of blood. The blond seaman seized his advantage and swung a slicing blow that glanced off Herriot's forehead, and felled the huge buccaneer to the deck where he lay stunned, the quick red staining his head-cloth. As the blond-haired man stepped forward to finish the business, a long, keen, straight blade interposed, caught his cutlass in an upward parry and at the same time pinked him painfully in the arm. Jumping back the seaman found himself faced by the pitiless eyes of Stede Bonnet, who had killed his last opponent and run in to save his mate's life. That quick, darting sword baffled the sailor. Swing and hack as he might, his blows were caught in midair and fell away harmless, while always the relentless point drove him back and back. Forced to the rail, he stood his ground desperately, pale and glistening with the sweat of a man in the fear of death. Then his sword flew up, the pirate captain stabbed him through the throat and with a dying gasp the limp body fell backward into the sea. Meanwhile the pirates had steadily gained ground in the hand to hand struggle and now a bare half-dozen brave fellows held on, fighting singly or in pairs, back to back. The brig's captain, wounded in several places and seeing his crew in a fair way to be annihilated, flung up a tired arm and cried for quarter. Almost at once the fighting ceased and half the combatants, utterly exhausted, sank down among their dead and wounded fellows. The deck was a long shambles, red from the bits to the poop. While the hands of the prisoners were being bound, Bonnet and all of his men not otherwise employed hurried below to search for loot. The man who had held the boat-hook astern left this task and greedily clambered up the brig's side lest he should miss his chance at the booty. Job alone stuck to his post, and motioned Jeremy to stay where he was. Cheers and yells of joy rang from the after-hold of the merchantman where the pirates had evidently discovered the ship's store of wine. After a few moments Pharaoh Daggs thrust his scarred face out of the companion, and with a fierce roar of laughter waved a black bottle above his head. The others followed, drinking and babbling curses, and last of all Stede Bonnet, pale, dishevelled, mad with blood and liquor, stood bareheaded by the hatch. He raised his hand in a gesture of silence and all the hubbub ceased. "We have beaten them!" he cried between twitching lips. "I Captain Thomas, the chiefest of all the pirates, and my bully-boys of the _Royal James_! We'll show 'em all! We'll show 'em all! Blackbeard and all the rest! He, he, he!" and his voice trailed off in crazy laughter. The men of the crew stood about him on the brig's deck dumbfounded by his words. Jeremy could hardly breathe in his surprise. Suddenly he gave a start and would have cried out but that Job Howland's hand closed his mouth. A swiftly widening lane of water separated the sloop from her late enemy. CHAPTER IX As she cleared the side of the waterlogged merchantman, the _Royal James_ began to move. Her sails which had been left flapping during the close fighting, now filled with a bang and she went away smartly on the starboard tack. Job had dragged Jeremy aft and the two were huddled at the tiller, partially screened by the mainsail, when a howl of consternation broke out aboard the brig. Few if any of the firearms were still loaded, or they might have been shot to death, out of hand. As it was, the sloop had drawn away to a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile before any effort was made to stop her. Then a single cannon roared and a round shot whizzed by along the tops of the waves. When the next report came, Jeremy could see the splash fall far astern. They were out of range. The two runaways now felt comparatively safe. It was certain that the brig was too badly damaged to give chase even if she could keep afloat. Jeremy felt a momentary pang at the thought of leaving even that graceless crowd in such jeopardy, but he remembered that they had the brig's boats in which to leave the hulk, and his own present danger soon gave him enough to occupy him. Job lashed the tiller and going to the lanyard at the mainmast, hauled down the black flag. Then they both set to work cleaning up the deck. The three dead men were given sea burial--slipped overboard without other ceremony than the short prayer for each which Jeremy repeated. The gunner who lay in agony in his berth had his wound bound up and was given a sip of brandy. Then the lank New Englander went below to get a meal, while Jeremy sluiced the gun decks with sea water. Night was falling when Job reappeared on deck with biscuit and beans and some preserves out of the Captain's locker. There was little appetite in Jeremy after what he had witnessed that day, but his tall friend ate his supper with a relish and seemed quite elated at the prospect of the voyage to shore. He filled a clay pipe after the meal and smoked meditatively awhile, then addressed the boy with a queer hesitancy. "Sonny," he began, "since we picked you up, I've been thinkin' every day, more an' more, what I'd give to be back at your age with another chance. Piratin' seemed a fine upstandin' trade to me when I begun,--independent an' adventurous too, it seemed. But it's not so fine--not so fine!" He paused. "One or two or maybe five years o' rough livin' an' rougher fightin', a powerful waste o' money in drink an' such, an' in the end--a dog's death by shootin' or starvation, or the chains on Execution Dock." Another pause followed and then, turning suddenly to Jeremy--"Lad, I can get a Governor's pardon ashore, but 'twould mean nought to me if my old days came back to trouble me. You're young an' you're honest an' what's more you believe in God. Do you figger a man can square himself after livin' like I've lived?" The boy looked into the pirate's homely, anxious face. He felt that he would always trust Job Howland. "Ay," he answered straightforwardly, and put out his hand. The man gripped it with a sort of fierce eagerness that was good to see and smiled the smile of a man at peace with himself. Then he solemnly drew out his clasp-knife and pricked a small cross in the skin of his forearm. "That," said he, "is for a sign that once I get out o' this here pickle I'll never pirate nor free-trade no more." The wind sank to a mere breath as the darkness gathered and Jeremy stood the first watch while his tired friend settled into a deep sleep that lasted till he was wakened a little after midnight. Then the boy took his turn at sleeping. When the morning light shone into his eyes he woke to find Job pacing the deck and casting troubled looks at the sky. The wind was dead and only an occasional whiff of light air moved the idly swinging canvas. A tiny swell rocked the sloop as gently as a cradle. "Well, my boy, we won't get far toward shore at this gait," said Job cheerfully as Jeremy came up. "Except for maybe three hours sailin' last night, we've made no progress at all. I've got some porridge cooked below. You bring it on deck an' we'll have a snack." The meal finished, they turned to the rather trying task of waiting for a breeze. About noon Job climbed to the masthead for a reconnaissance and on coming down reported a sail to the east, but no sign of any wind. The sky was dull and overcast so that Job made no effort to determine their bearings. They figured that they had drifted a dozen or more sea-miles to the west since the battle, and were lying somewhere off the little port of New York. The day passed, Job amusing Jeremy with tales of his adventures and old sea-yarns and soon night had overtaken them again. This time the boy had the first nap. He was roused to take his watch when Job saw by the stars that it was eight bells, and, still yawning with sleep, the lad went to stand by the rail. Everything was quiet on the sea, and even the swell had died out, leaving a perfect calm. There was no moon. The boy's head sank on his breast and softly he slid to the deck. Drowsiness had overcome him so gently that he slept before he knew he was sleepy. CHAPTER X Jeremy's first waking sensation was the sound of a hoarse confused shout and the rattle of oars being shipped. He struggled to his feet, staring into the dark astern. Almost at the same instant there came a series of bumps along the sloop's side, and as the boy rushed to the hatch to call his ally, he heard feet pounding the deck. "Job!" he cried, "Job!" and then a heavy hand smote him on the mouth and he lost consciousness for a time. The period during which he stood awake and terrified had been so brief and so fraught with terror that it never seemed real to the lad in memory. There was something of the awful hopelessness of nightmare about it. Always afterward he had difficulty in convincing himself that he had not slept steadily from the time he drowsed on watch to the minute when he opened his eyes to the light of morning and felt his aching head throb against the hard deck. As he lay staring at the sky, a footstep approached and some one stood over him. He turned his eyes painfully to look and beheld the dark, bearded visage of George Dunkin, the bo's'n, who scowled angrily and kicked him in the ribs with a heavy toe. "Get up, ye young lubber!" roared the man and swore fiercely as the boy, unable to move, still lay upon his back. A moment later the bo's'n went away. To Jeremy's numb consciousness came the realization that the pirates had caught them again. The words of the Captain on his first day aboard came back to the lad and made him shudder. There had been stories current among the men that gave a glimpse of how Stede Bonnet dealt with those who were treacherous. Which of a dozen awful deaths was in store for him? Ah, if only they would spare the torture, he thought that he could die bravely, a worthy scion of dauntless stock. He thought of Job who must have been seized in his bunk below. The poor fellow was to have short happiness in his changed way of life, it seemed. Jeremy tried to steel his nerves against the test he was sure must follow soon. Instead of going to pieces in terror, he succeeded in forcing himself to the attitude of a young stoic. He had done nothing of which he was ashamed, and he felt that if he was called to face a just God in the next twenty-four hours, he would be able to hold his head up like a man. Time passed, and he heard a heavy tramp coming along the deck. He was hoisted roughly by hands under his arm-pits and placed upon his feet, though he was still too weak to stand without support. A dozen faces surrounded him, glaring angrily. Out of a sort of mist that partly obscured his vision came the terrible leer of the man with the broken nose. The twisted mouth opened and the man spoke with a deliberate ugliness. The very absence of oaths seemed to make his slow speech more deadly. "Ah, ye misbegotten young fool," he said, "so there ye stand, scared like the cowardly spawn ye are. We took ye, and kept ye, and fed ye. What's more, we was friends to ye, eh mates? An' how do ye treat yer friends? Leave 'em to starve or drown on a sinkin' ship! Sneak off like a dog an' a son of a cowardly dog!" Jeremy went white with anger. "An' now"--Daggs' voice broke in a sudden snarl--"an' now, we'll show ye how we treat such curs aboard a ten-gun buccaneer! Stand by, mates, to keel-haul him!" At this moment a second party of pirates poured swearing out of the fo'c's'le hatch, dragging Job Howland in their midst. He was stripped to his shirt and under-breeches and had apparently received a few bruises in the tussle below. Jeremy's spirits were momentarily revived by seeing that some of the buccaneers had suffered like inconveniences, while the young ex-man-o'-war's-man was gingerly feeling of a shapeless blob that had been his nose. Dave Herriot, his head tied up in a bandage, was superintending the preparations for punishment. "Let's have the boy first," he shouted. Aboard a square-rigger, keel-hauling was practiced from the main yardarm. The victim was dragged completely under the ship's bottom, scraping over the jagged barnacles, and drawn up on the other side, more often dead than living. As the sloop had only fore and aft sails, they had merely run a rope under the bottom, bringing both ends together amidships. They now dragged the boy forward, still in a half-fainting condition and made fast his feet in a loop in one end of the rope, then, stretching his arms along the deck in the other direction, bound his wrists in a similar way. He was practically made a part of the ring of hemp that circled the ship's middle. Without further ceremony other than a parting kick or two, the crew took their places at the rope, ready to pull the lad to destruction. He set his teeth and a wordless prayer went up from his heart. The wrench of the rope at his ankles never came. As he lay with his eyes closed, a high-pitched voice broke the quiet. "If a man starts to haul on that line, I'll shoot him dead!" Jeremy turned his head and looked. There stood Stede Bonnet, his face ashen gray and trembling, but with a venomous fire in his sunken eyes. He held a pistol in each hand and two more were thrust into his waist-band. Not a man stirred in the crew. "That boy," went on the clear voice, "had no hand in the business, and well you know it. It is for me to give out punishments while I am Captain of this sloop, and by God I shall be Captain during my life. Pharaoh Daggs, step forward and unloose the rope!" The man with the broken nose fixed his light eyes on the Captain's for a full five seconds. Bonnet's pistol muzzle was as steady as a rock. Then the sailor's eyes shifted and he obeyed with a sullen reluctance. Jeremy, liberated, climbed to his knees and stood up swaying. Just then there was a rush of feet behind. He turned in time to see Job Howland vanish head foremost over the rail in a long clean dive. The astonished crew ran cursing to the side and stared after him, but no faintest trace of the man appeared. At dawn a breeze had sprung up and now the little waves chopped along below the ports with a sound like a mocking chuckle. They had robbed the buccaneers of their cruel sport. Mutiny might have broken out then and there, but Stede Bonnet, cool as ever, stood amidships with his arms crossed and a calm-looking pistol in each fist. "Herriot," he remarked evenly, "better set the men to cleaning decks and repairing damage. We'll start down the Jersey coast at once." Jeremy got to his bunk as best he might and slept for the greater part of twenty-four hours. When he awoke, the crew had just finished breakfast and were sitting, every man by himself, counting out gold pieces. Bonnet had divided the booty found on the brig and in their greedy satisfaction the pirates were, for the time at least, utterly oblivious to former discontent. When he got up and went to the galley for breakfast, Jeremy was ignored by his fellows or treated as if nothing had occurred. Indeed, there had been little real ground for wishing to punish the boy aside from the ugly temper occasioned by having to row a night and a day in open boats. Only Pharaoh Daggs bore real malice toward Jeremy and his feelings were for the most part concealed under a mask of contemptuous indifference. As the day progressed the lad found that matters had resumed their accustomed course and that he was in no immediate danger. He missed his brave friend and co-partner as bitterly as if he had been a brother, but partially consoled himself with the thought that Job's act in jumping overboard had probably spared him the awful torture of the keel or some worse death. The Captain would never have defended the runaway sailor as he had done Jeremy, the boy was certain. All day the sloop made her way south at a brisk rate, occasionally sighting low, white beaches to starboard. Sometime in the first dog-watch her boom went over and she ran her slim nose in past Cape May, heading up the Delaware with the hurrying tide, while the brig's long-boat, towing behind, swung into her wake astern. CHAPTER XI When the gang of buccaneers had tumbled down the hatch after Jeremy's cry of warning, Job Howland, barely awake, had leaped to the narrow angle that made the forward end of the fo'c's'le, seizing a pistol as he went. Intrenching himself behind a chest, with the bulkhead behind him and on both sides, he had kept the maddened crew at bay for several moments. The pistol, covering the only path of attack, made them wary of approaching too close. When, finally, a half-dozen jumped forward at once, he pulled the trigger only to find that the weapon had not been loaded. In desperation he grasped the muzzle in his hand and struck out fiercely with the heavy butt, beating off his assailants time after time. This was well enough at first, but the buccaneers, who cared much less for a broken crown than for a bullet wound, pressed in closer and closer, striking with fists and marline-spikes. It was soon over. They jammed him so far into the corner than his tireless arm no longer had free play, and then bore him down under sheer weight of numbers. When he ceased to struggle they seized him fast and carried him to the deck. Job was out of breath and much bruised but had suffered no lasting hurt. He saw Jeremy led forward, heard the men's cries and realized that the torture was in store for them both. Unbound, but helpless to interfere, he saw the boy stretched on the deck and the rope attached to his arms and legs. He suffered greater agony than did Jeremy as the crew made ready to begin their awful work, for he had seen keelhauling before. And then suddenly Stede Bonnet was standing by the companion and the ringing shout that saved the boy's life struck on Job's ears. He could hardly keep from cheering the Captain then and there, but relief at Jeremy's delivery brought with it a return of his quick wits. He himself was in as great danger as ever. He was facing aft, and his eye, roving the deck for a means of escape, lit on the brig's boat, which the pirates had tied astern after reboarding the sloop. She was trailing at the end of a painter, her bows rising and falling on the choppy waves. He waited only long enough to see that the Captain succeeded in freeing Jeremy, then drew a great breath and plunged over the side. Swimming under water, he watched for the towed longboat to come by overhead, and as her dark bulk passed, he caught her keel with a strong grip of his fingers, worked his way back and came up gasping, his hands holding to the rudder ring in her stern. The hot, still days had warmed the surface of the sea to a temperature far above the normal, or he must certainly have become exhausted in a short time. As it was, he clung to his ring till near noon, when, cautiously peering above the gunwale, he saw the sloop's deck empty save for a steersman, half asleep in the hot sun by the tiller. With a great wrench of his arms the ex-buccaneer lifted himself over the stern and slipped as quietly as he was able into the boat's bottom. There he lay breathless, listening for sounds of alarm aboard the sloop. None came and after a few moments he wriggled forward and made himself snug under the bow-thwart. The boat carried a water-beaker and a can of biscuit for emergency use. After refreshing himself with these and drying out his thin clothing in the sun, he retreated under the shade of the thwart and slept the sleep of utter fatigue. Late the next day he took a brief observation of the horizon. There was sandy shore to the east and from what he knew of the coast and the ship's course he judged they must be nearing the entrance to Delaware Bay. His long rest had restored to him most of his vigor and although he was sore in many places, he felt perfectly ready to try an escape as soon as the sloop should approach the land and offer him an opportunity. As the night went on the _Royal James_ made good speed up the Bay aided by a strong tide. A little while before light she came close enough to the west shore for Job to see the outlines of trees on a bluff. He figured the distance to be not above a mile at most. There was some question in his mind whether he should cut the painter and use the boat in getting away or swim for it. He decided that it would be better for him in most ways if the pirates still supposed him dead. So, quietly as an otter, he slipped over the gunwale, paddled away from the boat's side and set out for the land, ploughing through the water with a long overarm stroke. Job had a hard fight with the turning tide before the trees loomed above his head and his feet scraped gravel under the bank. When at last he crept gasping out upon dry ground, it was miles to the southward of his first destination. Dawn had come and the early light silvered the rippling cross-swells and glinted on the white wings of the gulls. The big mariner shook the water from his sides like a spaniel, stretched both long arms to the warm sky, laughed as he thought of his escape and turning his gaunt face to the northward set out swiftly along the tree-clad bluffs. CHAPTER XII Meanwhile the _Royal James_ was far up inside the Capes, sailing demurely along, the ports of her gun deck closed and the British colors fluttering from her top. Jeremy watched the shores they passed with deep interest. He wondered if there would be a chance for him to get away when they came to anchor. There was nothing but hardship in his lot aboard the sloop, now that Job was gone. He was unnoticed for the most part by the men of the crew, and when any of them spoke to him it was with a cuff or a curse. As for Captain Bonnet, he had relapsed into one of his black moods. Nothing brought him on deck or made him speak except to give Herriot monosyllabic commands. Late the following day, after a slow progress along the Delaware shore, the sloop hove to in a wide roadstead and the anchor was run out. The steeples and shipping of a little town were visible by the water side, but no one put off to meet them. To the surprise of all, Bonnet himself came on deck, wearing a good coat and fresh ruffles and with his hair powdered. He ordered the gig lowered, then looked about the assembled crew and addressed them good-humoredly enough. "Now, my lads," said he, "I'm going ashore with a picked boat's crew to get what news there is about. You that go with me remember that you are of the _Royal James_, honest merchant coaster, and that I am Captain Thomas, likewise honest navigator. We'll separate into every tavern and ship-chandler's place along the wharves, pick up the names of all ships that are soon to sail, and their cargoes, and meet at the gig at eight bells. Herriot and you men aboard here, keep a strict watch. Daggs, I leave the boy in your charge. Don't let him out of your sight." At the last words Jeremy's heart sank to his boots. He knew how futile would be any attempt to escape under the cold hawk-eyes of the man with the broken nose. As the gig put off from the sloop's side, the boy leaned dejectedly against the rail. Pharaoh Daggs slouched up to him. "Ah there, young 'un," said he with cynical jocularity, "just thinkin' o' leavin' us, were ye, when the old man took the gimp out o' ye?" The bantering note vanished from the man's voice. "I'ld like to break yer neck, ye young whelp, but I won't--not just yet!" He seemed to be licking his ugly chops at the thought of a future occasion when he might allow himself this luxury. Then he went on, half to himself it seemed. "Hm, Bonnet's a queer 'un! Never _can_ tell what he'll do. Them eight men aboard that brig, now--never was a rougher piece o' piracy since Morgan's day than his makin' those beggars walk the plank. Stood there an' roared an' laughed, he did, an' pricked 'em behind till they tipped the board. An' then to stop us from drownin' a blasted little rat that'd tried to kill us all! Oh, he's bad, is Stede--bad!" Jeremy gave a start as this soliloquy progressed. He had wondered once or twice what had become of the prisoners taken aboard the brig. That attempted escape of Job's had cost dear in human life it seemed. And his own deliverance had been the mere whim of a mad-man! He shuddered and thanked God fervently for the fortune that had so far attended him. There was a pause while the buccaneer seemed to regard him with a sort of crafty hesitancy. At length he spoke. "See here, boy," he said, his voice sinking to a hoarse whisper, "how long had you been livin' on that there island?" Jeremy looked up wonderingly. "Not long," he answered, "only a day or two, really." "And you--nor none of yer folks--never went nosin' 'round there to find nothin', did yer? Tell me the truth, now!" Daggs leaned closer, a murderous intensity in his face. "No," said Jeremy, squirming as the man's fingers gripped his shoulder. The pirate gave him another long, piercing look from his terrible eyes, then released him and went forward, where he stood staring off toward the shore. In his wretched loneliness the boy sank down by the rail, his heart heavier than it had ever been in his whole life. It might have been a relief to him to cry. A great lump was in his throat indeed and his eyes smarted, but he had considered himself too old for tears almost since he could walk, and now with the realization that he was near shedding them, he forced his shoulders back, shut his square jaw and resolved that he would be a man, come what might. Darkness settled over the river mouth. The form of Pharaoh Daggs in black silhouette against the gray of the sky sent a shudder through Jeremy. He recalled with startling distinctness the solitary man he had seen on the island the night of his capture. The two figures were identical. Pondering, the boy fell asleep. It was some four hours later that he woke to the sound of hurrying oars close aboard. A subdued shout came across the water. The voice was Stede Bonnet's. "Stand by to take us on!" he cried. A moment later the gig shot into sight, her crew rowing like mad. They pulled in their oars, swept up alongside the black sloop, and were caught and pulled aboard by ready hands. "Cut the cable!" cried the Captain as soon as he reached the deck. The gig was swung up, the cable chopped in two and the mainsail spread, and in an incredibly short time the _Royal James_ was bowling along down the roadstead. Hardly had she gotten under way when two long-boats appeared astern and amid shouts and orders to surrender from their crews, a scattered fusillade of bullets came aboard. No one on the sloop was hit, and as the sails began to draw properly the pirate craft soon left her pursuers far to the rear. Jeremy, never one to watch others work, had lent a hand wherever he was best able, during the rush of the escape. When the sloop was well out of range and the excitement had subsided, he turned for the first time to look at a small group that had been talking amidships. Two of the figures were very well known to him--Bonnet and Herriot. The light of a lantern, which the latter held, fell upon the face of a boy no older than Jeremy, dressed in the finest clothes the young New Englander had ever seen. The lad's face was dark and resolute, his hair black, smoothly brushed back and tied behind with a small ribbon. His blue coat was of velvet, neatly cut. Below his long flowered waistcoat were displayed buff velvet breeches and silk stockings of the same color. His shoes were of fine leather and buckled with silver. In response to the oaths and rough questions of the two pirates, the lad seemed to have little to say. When he spoke it was with a scornful ring in his voice. The first words Jeremy heard him say were: "You'll understand it soon, I fancy. We are well enough known along the bay and my father, as I have said, is a friend of the Governor's. There'll be ten ships after you before morning." Herriot put back his head and roared with laughter. "Hear the young braggart!" he shouted. "Ten ships for such a milk-fed baby as he is!" "Well, my lad," said the Captain, "you'll be treated well enough while we wait for the money to be paid. Here, Jeremy!" As the young backwoodsman came up, Bonnet continued, "Two boys aboard is bad business, for you're sure to be scheming to get away. However, it can't be helped, just yet, and mind what I say,--there'll be a bullet ready for the first one that tries it. Now get below, the pair of you." Glad as he was to have a companion of his own age aboard, Jeremy, boylike, was too shy to say anything to the new arrival that night, and indeed the other boy seemed to class him with the rest of the pirates and to feel some repugnance at his company. So the two unfortunate youngsters slept fitfully, side by side, until broad daylight next morning. CHAPTER XIII The "salt horse" which was served out for breakfast aboard the _Royal James_ made scant appeal to the Delaware boy's appetite. He hardly touched the portion which Jeremy offered him and kept up his pose of proud aloofness all the morning. It is scarcely a matter for wonder that he did not at once make friends with Jeremy. The latter's buckskin breeches and moccasins had been taken from him when he came aboard and he was now clad in his old leather tunic, a pair of seaman's trousers, which bagged nearly to his ankles, wrinkled, garterless wool socks and an old pair of buckled shoes, stuffed with rags to make them fit. His hair, never very manageable, had received little attention during the voyage and now was as wild and rough as that of a savage. It would have required a long second glance for one to see the fine qualities of grit and self-reliance in the boy's keen face. The sloop was making great speed down the middle channel of the Bay, her canvas straining in a fine west breeze, and her deck canted far to leeward. No boy could long withstand the pleasure of sailing on such a day, and before noon the young stranger had given in to a consuming desire to know the names of things. Jeremy now had the whole ship by heart and was filled with joy at the opportunity of talking about her to one more ignorant than himself. Of course, he was as proud of the _Royal James_ as if he owned her. How he glowed over his account of the battle with the brig! Nothing on the coast could outsail the sloop, he was sure. Indeed, it was with some regret that he admitted a hope of her being overtaken by the Delaware boy's friends, and he was divided between pride and despair as the day went on and no sail appeared to the north. By noon his new acquaintance was ravenously hungry, as was to be expected, and over their pannikins of soup the last reserve between them went by the board. [Illustration: Bob] "Are you his son?" asked the dark-haired lad, nodding toward Herriot. Jeremy laughed and described his adventure from the beginning while the other marveled open-mouthed. "Are they holding you for ransom, too?" asked he, as the story ended. "No," replied Jeremy, "I reckon they knew as soon as they saw me that there wasn't much money to be gotten in my case. As I figure it, they didn't dare leave me on the island for fear I'ld have those three ships-of-war after them." Both boys laughed as they thought of the head-long flight of Stede Bonnet's company from a garrison of fifteen sheep. "Well," said the Delaware boy, still chuckling, "you know most of my story already. My father is Clarke Curtis of New Castle. My own name is Bob. Father owns some ships in the East India trade and has a plantation up on the Brandywine creek. Last night I was at our warehouse by the wharves. Father was inside talking to one of his captains who had just come to port. I wanted to see the ship--she's a full-rigger, three or four times as big as this, and fast too for her burden. Well, I went down on the dock where she was moored. There was nobody around and no lights and she stood up above the wharf-side all dark and big--her mainmast is as high as our church steeple, you know--and I was just looking up at her and wondering where the watchman was, when four men came along down the wharf. I thought perhaps 'twas Father and some of his men. When they were quite close that biggest one, Herriot, stepped up to me and before I could shout he put his hand over my mouth and held me. They gagged me fast and then one of them gave a whistle, long and low. Pretty soon a boat came up to the dock and they grabbed me and put me in, spite of all I could do. They paddled along to another wharf and took aboard some more men and then started to row out as fast as they could. I guess those boats that came after us were from Father's ship. He must have missed me right away. So now old Bonnet or Thomas or whatever his name is thinks he's going to get a fat sum out of me. That's all of my story, so far. But there'll be another chapter yet!" Jeremy, for both their sakes, sincerely hoped that there might. At sunset of that day the _Royal James_ cleared Cape Henlopen and held her course for the open sea, while behind her in the gathering dusk the coast grew hazy--faded out--was gone. The two boys, sitting late into the first watch, shivered with that fine ecstasy of adventure that can come only in the shadowy mystery of star-lit decks and the long, whispering ripple of a following sea. Jeremy, who twenty-four hours before had thought of the ship as a place of utter desolation, would not now have changed places with any boy alive. He knew, perhaps for the first time, the fulness of joy that comes into life with human companionship. That night two lads at least had golden dreams of a youthful kind. Ducats and doubloons, princesses and plum-cake, swords awave and cannon blazing, great galleons with crimson sails--no wonder that they were smiling in their sleep when George Dunkin held a lantern over the bunk at the change of the watch. CHAPTER XIV The day came in dark with fog, which changed a little after noon to driving scud. The wind had gone around to the northeast and freshened steadily, driving the waves in from the sea in steep gray hills, quite different from anything Jeremy had before experienced. The sloop, under three reefs and a storm jib, began to make rough weather of it, staggering up and down the long slopes in an aimless, dizzy fashion that made Jeremy and Bob very unhappy. The poor young New Englander had to perform his regular tasks no matter how he felt within, but once the work was done he stumbled forward miserably and lay upon his bunk. Bob was too wretched to talk all day, and for the time at least cared very little whether he was rescued or keel-hauled. Near nightfall Jeremy went aft to serve the Captain's supper, and as he returned along the reeling wet deck in the gathering dark, he stopped a moment to look off to windward. The racing white tops of the waves gleamed momentarily and vanished. He was appalled at their height. While the little vessel surged along in the trough, great slopes of foam and black water rose on either beam, up and up like tossing hillsides. Then would come the staggering climb to the summit, and for a dizzy second the terrified lad, clinging to a shroud, could look for miles across the shifting valleys. Before he could catch his breath, the sloop pitched down the next declivity in a long, sickening sag, and rocked for a brief instant at the foot, her masts swaying in a great arc half across the sky. Then she began to ascend. Shivering and wide-eyed, the boy crept to his bunk, where he fell asleep at last to the sound of screaming wind and lashing water. At dawn and all next day the gale swept down from the northeast unabated. The fo'c's'le was thick with tobacco smoke and the wet reek of the crew, for only the steersman and the lookout would stay on deck. Bob, somewhat recovered from his seasickness, lay wide-eyed in his bunk and heard such tales of plunder and savagery on the high seas as made his blood run cold. When Jeremy came dripping down the ladder, early that afternoon, he found the Delaware lad staring at Pharaoh Daggs with a look of positive terror. The buccaneer's evil face was lit up by the rays of the smoky lantern, hung from a hook in one of the deck beams. He sat on the edge of the fo'c's'le table, his heavy shoulders hunched and a long clay pipe in his teeth. "That night," he was saying, "four on us went an' cut Sol Brig down from where they'd hanged him. We got away, down to the sloop an' out to sea with him. I didn't have no cause to love the old devil, but I'd ha' hated to have a ghost like his after me, so I lent a hand. We wrapped him up decent an' gave him sea-burial from his own deck, as he'd paced for thirty year. An' _then_," he said with a snarl and half-turning to face Jeremy, "we got them two boys on deck! Both of 'em said 'twas the other as told, so we treated 'em fair an' alike. We stripped 'em an' laid in deep with the cat till there wasn't no white skin left above the waist. Then we sluiced 'em with sea water. When they could feel pain again, we stretched 'em with rope an' windlass till one died. T'other was a red-headed, tough young devil, an' took such a deal of it that we had to brain him with a handspike at the last." Even the crew were silenced for a little by this recital. Jeremy and Bob shivered in their places, hardly daring to breathe. Then a Portuguese spoke from the corner, his greedy little black eyes glittering in his swarthy face. "Where wass da Cap'n's money--da gold 'e 'ada-not divide', eh?" Daggs gave a little start and leaned forward scowling. "Who said he had any?" he asked savagely. "Sol Brig kept himself to himself. He never told secrets to any man aboard!" Then he turned and with a black frown at the two boys, climbed through the hatch into the howling smother outside. Jeremy, always alert, saw one or two glances exchanged among the pirates before the interminable foul stream of fo'c's'le talk resumed its course, but apparently the incident of the scarred man's abrupt departure was soon forgotten. As the storm continued, Bonnet and Herriot gave up their attempts to sail the _Royal James_ and contented themselves with keeping her afloat. The gale was driving them southward at a good rate and they were not ungrateful as they reflected that it must have effectually put a stop to all pursuit. Toward night the wind went down a trifle, though the seas still ran in veritable mountain ranges. The dawn of the following day showed a clear sky to the north, and every prospect of fair weather. Before breakfast all hands were set to shaking out reefs and trimming sails, a task which the tossing of the sloop made unusually difficult. New halyards had to be fitted in some places. Otherwise the vessel herself had suffered but little. The brig's boat, towed astern all through the flight down the bay, had been swamped and cut loose on the first day of storm. However, as the _Royal James_ had two boats of her own lashed on deck, this was not considered a real loss. When the sun was high enough, Herriot took his bearings, and gave the helmsman orders to keep her headed west, a point north. The sloop made a long beat of it to starboard, thrashing up all night and most of the following day, before she sighted the Virginia Capes. Slipping through under cover of darkness, Bonnet resumed his rôle of sober merchantman and sailed the _James_ up the Chesapeake under the British flag, with a fine air of honesty. Jeremy and Bob regained their spirits as the low shores unrolled ahead and passed astern, with an occasional glimpse of a plantation house or a village at the water's edge. As every fresh estuary and arm of the bay opened on the bow, the lads hoped and expected that the sloop would enter. Bob thought the chances for escape or rescue would be much increased if they came to anchor in some harbor. Jeremy remembered the Captain's half-promise to free him when they reached the Chesapeake, and although he would have been loth to part from his new friend, he felt that he might render him better service ashore than in his company aboard the pirate. It was two full days before the order was finally given to anchor. They had put into the mouth of a wide inlet far up on the Eastern shore, and Bonnet had her brought into the wind at a good distance from either side. The banks were high and wooded, and as far as the boys could see there was no sign of habitation anywhere about. Their minds were both busy planning some way of getting to land when Dave Herriot came up behind them and put a huge hand into the collar of each. "Come along below, lads," he said gruffly. They went, completely mystified, until the big sailing-master thrust them before him into the port gun deck. Then Jeremy understood. The old-fashioned arrangement of iron bars called the "bilboes" was fastened to the bulkhead at the bow end of the alleyway. It had two or three sets of iron shackles chained to it and into the smallest pair of these, meant for the wrists of a grown victim, he locked an ankle of each of the boys. "Ye'll stay _there_ a while, till we sail again," Herriot remarked as he departed. The lads stared at each other, too glum to speak. Bob was pale with rage at what he considered a dishonor, while the Yankee boy's heart was heavy as he thought of the opportunities for flight he had let slip on the voyage up the bay. Within half an hour after the anchor was dropped the young prisoners heard the creak of the davit blocks, and a moment later the splash of a boat taking water close to the nearest gun-port. Jeremy stretched as far as his chain would allow, and through a crevice saw four men start to row toward shore. There was some coarse jesting and laughter on deck, then one of the crew sent a "Fare ye well, Bill!" after the departing gig. The hail was answered by the voice of the Jamaican, Curley. Half an hour later the boat returned, carrying only three. Jeremy, straining at his tether, made out that Curley was not one of them. He sat down, thoughtful. "Well, Bob," he said at last, "whether it's about your ransom I can't say, but Bill Curley's been sent ashore on some errand or other--and to be gone a while, too, I figure." They could do little but wait for developments. It was something of a surprise to both when Bonnet's voice was heard on the deck above, soon after, ordering the capstan manned. The anchor creaked up and to the rattle of blocks the sail was hoisted. They felt the sloop get under way once more. When one of the foremast hands brought them some biscuit and pork for supper, he told them it was Herriot's orders that they be left in irons for the present at least, and added, in response to Jeremy's query, that they were headed south under full canvas. The boys' thoughts were very bitter as they tried to make themselves comfortable on the bare planking. Fortunately, at their age it requires more than a hard bed to banish rest, and before the ship had made three sea-miles, care and bodily misery alike were forgotten in the heavy slumber of fatigue. CHAPTER XV Job Howland's long legs, clad as they were in nothing more cumbersome than a pair of under-breeches, made light work of hills and ravines as he held his way steadily up the Delaware shore. Like most of the sailors of that day, he had gone barefoot aboard ship since the beginning of the warm weather and his soles were so calloused that he hardly felt the need of shoes. At a shack on a little cove, just before midday, he found several fishermen, to whom he applied for clothing. They had pity on his plight, fitted him out with a shirt, serviceable breeches and rough boots, and gave him, as well, as much biscuit and dried fish as he wished to carry. Thus reinforced he continued to put the leagues behind him till night, when he slept under a convenient jack-pine. Early next morning he pushed on and came without further adventure to the little port of New Castle, just as the sun was setting. Job had been in the town before and now went straight to the Red Hawk Tavern, a small place on the water-front that catered chiefly to seafaring men. The tavern-keeper, a brawny Swede, to whose blue eyes half the seamen that plied along the coast were familiar, held out a big hand to him as he entered. He had known the tall mariner when he had been on the Virginia bark before Hornygold had captured it and had had no news of him since. Job told him his whole story over a hot meal in the back room, and it is merely indicative of the public mind of that day that the big Swede had not the slightest compunction in sympathizing with him. Indeed, in most dockside resorts it was a common thing for pirates and honest seamen to fraternize with perfect goodwill. The innkeeper offered him a bed for the night, and next morning directed him to the governor's house. Delaware, a far smaller and less developed colony than her neighbors, Pennsylvania and Maryland, had, nevertheless, her own government, located at New Castle. The brick house of the King's appointee was on the High Street--the most imposing building in the town, excepting the two churches. Job knocked at the door and was admitted by a colored servant in livery, who gave him a chair in the wide hall and asked him to wait there. As the long Yankee fidgeted uncomfortably on the edge of his seat, he heard voices raised in a room opposite, the door of which was closed. Some one, apparently growing angry, was saying: "Good Gad, man, are we to sit idle and let these ruffianly thieves make off with our money--children--wives! One good man-o'-war could teach the scamps such a lesson as would scare half of 'em off the seas! Why, if I'd had even a good culverin aboard the _Indian Queen_ last night, I'd have chased the beggars clear to Africa, an need were. Governor, you _must_ see this as we see it!" There was a reply in a lower tone and a moment later the door opened for two gentlemen to come out. One was thin and pale and seemed a suave, cool fellow, Job thought. He was elegantly dressed in gray. His companion, larger and more strongly built, seemed to have become very red in the face from suppressed emotion. His linen ruffles were awry and his fists clenched as he emerged. Without looking at Job, he jammed his cocked hat upon his head and strode out. The man in gray turned to the waiting seaman and beckoned him into the room just vacated. Job, as cool and self-possessed as if he were loading his six-pounder under fire, told the story of his experiences aboard the pirate sloop, finishing with an account of the attempted flight with Jeremy, their recapture and his escape. The Governor listened gravely, starting once when the mariner named Captain Bonnet. At the end he nodded. "You shall have the pardon as ruled by the Crown," he said. "But there is another side to this affair. You say you slept at the Red Hawk. Was there no talk there of a boy stolen from the wharves late in the evening?" Job replied that he had gone to bed early and had breakfasted and left without hearing any gossip. "From what you say," went on the Governor, "I should be ready to swear that the Captain Thomas, who proclaimed himself by that name in a tavern last night and later made off with the son of Clark Curtis, was the same man as your Stede Bonnet." Job hastened to relate the incident of the buccaneer's crazed speech from the brig's deck. He asked how the kidnapper had been described. The features tallied almost exactly with those of Stede Bonnet. In addition, the schooner, as half a dozen men would swear, had been painted black. Thus satisfied that Bob Curtis was aboard the _Royal James_, the Governor wrote a formal pardon, stating that "Job Howland, late a pirate, having duly sworn his allegiance to his Majesty the King, and repented of all unlawful acts committed by him aforetime," was henceforward granted full release from the penalty of his crimes and was to be held an honest man during his good behavior. Then he took the seaman with him and passed quickly down to one of the larger warehouses by the dockside. Standing in the doorway were the red-faced gentleman whom Job had seen that morning and a large man in sea boots, easily recognized as a ship's officer. To the rather cool greeting of the former the Governor returned a cheerful nod as they came up. "Look here now, Curtis," he said, "I can't spare those cannon, and that's flat, but to show that I mean well by you, I've brought a man whom you may find of some use. Tell him your story, Howland." The tale was repeated, to the intense interest of its two new hearers. "By Gad," cried Mr. Curtis, slapping his thigh, as the seaman finished, "that's a clue worth having! We know who the scoundrel is, at least, and, of course, he'll be sure to head for Carolina. Bonnet couldn't keep away from that coast for more than six months if his life depended upon it. Howland, if you care to ship again, I'll make you gun-pointer aboard the _Indian Queen_ here. You say you want nothing better than to get a crack at the pirate. We'll make what preparations we can and get off at once. This young friend of yours--about Bob's age he must be--well, I'm glad my boy's got company! Let's get to work aboard here now." Job fell to with a good will helping the _Indian Queen's_ crew get her ready for an encounter with the pirates. She carried only two light serpentine cannon of an ancient make, far below the standard necessary to combat a well-armed schooner like the _Royal James_. There were no other ships in the harbor carrying guns, however, and it was over the matter of procuring an armament that Curtis had had words with the Governor. There were six good culverins mounted in the fort below the town. The planter had wished to borrow them to fit out his vessel, urging that it was a matter of concern to the whole colony. To this the Governor replied that with the port stripped of defences it would be possible for a pirate fleet to enter and plunder without difficulty, while Curtis's ship was careering over the seven seas on a wild-goose chase. Naturally the personal element in the affair blinded Curtis to the truth in this argument. However, with the advent of Job Howland and the news he bore, all differences were forgotten. The planter and ship-owner now needed thorough, rather than hurried, preparation. He sent his overseer on horseback to Philadelphia to arrange for the purchase of guns, and put all the available carpenters and shipwrights to work on the _Queen_, strengthening the improvised gun decks and cutting the rows of ports. The northeast gale that sprang up next day put a temporary stop to these activities and gave Job an opportunity to get himself some decent clothes and hobnob a while with his friend the Swede. The whole waterfront was agog with the news of the kidnapping, and everywhere the tall New Englander went he was surrounded by a knot of questioning seamen. Several coasting-skippers, whose vessels lay ready-loaded at the wharves, decided to put off sailing until some news should indicate that the Bay was clear. When the storm had blown itself out the artisans again set to work on the big East Indiaman. Job, who had learned the science of gunnery under good masters, supervised the placing of every porthole with reference to ease and safety in firing as well as to the effectiveness of a broadside. He had a section of the deck forward of the capstan reinforced stoutly to bear the weight of a bow-chaser, on which he placed some dependence in case of a running fight. It was about six days later, in the first week of August, when two men came into New Castle from different directions, one on horseback, the other on foot. The first of these was Curtis's overseer, returned from the larger colony up the Bay, and bringing the good news that a score of cannon were lying on the dock at the foot of Market Street, in Philadelphia, ready to be shipped aboard the _Queen_ as soon as she was put in shape. The other was a sour-looking man of middle height, lean and darkly sallow, dressed in good sea clothes somewhat worn. He slipped through the trees into a lane that led toward the wharves. Coming unobtrusively into the Red Hawk Tavern at a little after 7 o'clock in the evening, he asked for a pint of rum, paid for it, and began to talk politely to the Swede. Job was eating his supper in one corner. He started when the man entered, but made no exclamation, and shading his face from the light, continued to watch him narrowly. It was his old shipmate, Bill Curley, the Jamaican. The pirate finished his rum and giving the barkeep a civil "Good-night," passed out into the ill-lighted street. When he was gone Job rose and stepped to the bar. "Quick, Nels," he whispered, "what did he ask you? He's one of Bonnet's crew!" The Swede replied that he had inquired the way to Clarke Curtis's house. Job was armed with a good pistol. He made sure it was primed and then set out up the street, keeping a careful lookout. Soon he detected the figure of the Jamaican in the gloom ahead, and followed it, keeping out of earshot. The man went straight up High Street to the town residence of the planter. There were tall shrubs in the yard and he waited behind one of these, apparently reconnoitering. Then he stooped, took off his shoes, and carrying them in one hand, advanced and pinned a piece of paper to the door. Turning, he made his way back to the gate and once on the soft earth of the road, started to run in the direction from which he had come. This brought him, in fifty yards, face to face with a pistol muzzle, the butt of which was held by his old friend, Job Howland. He stopped in his tracks and at the big Yankee's command held both arms above his head. Job jammed the nose of his weapon against Curley's breastbone and searched him without a word. Having removed a long dirk and a pistol from the Jamaican's waistband, he ordered him to face about and walk back to the planter's house. When they arrived there, Job took down the paper from the door and knocked loudly. A negro boy, scared almost into fits at the sight of the drawn pistol, led the way into his master's room. Curtis rose with an ejaculation of surprise and heard Job's brief account of the events leading to Curley's capture. Then he took the paper and read it, alternately frowning and exclaiming. As he finished, he passed it to the New Englander. It was a letter neatly drawn up and written in Stede Bonnet's even, refined hand. Aboard Sloop _Royal James,_ now in an Inlet near the Head of the Chesapeake Bay. To Mr. Clarke Curtis. Esq. of New Castle, in the Delaware Colony. Sir: Having now aboard us and in safe custody your son Robert Curtis, we offer you the following terms for his release and safe return to you. Namely, to wit: First, that you shall make no attempt to attack us in an armed vessel, or otherwise to employ force upon us. Second, that you shall send a single man, carrying or otherwise bringing, provided he is alone, a sum in gold amounting to 5,000 pounds sterling. Third, that this man shall be on the sandbars at the entrance to the Cape Fear River in Carolina at noon on the 10th day of September in this year of grace 1718, ready to deliver the sum before-mentioned and to take in charge the boy, also before-mentioned. Failing the accomplishment of any or all of these terms the boy will be immediately put to death without stay or pity. Expecting you to act with discretion and for the welfare of your son, Ever your humble servant, Captain Thomas. (Ship _Royal James_) "Well," remarked Job as he finished, "we know where they'll be on September the 10th, at all events. As for our friend here, we can safely turn him over to the constable, I reckon. Here, Curley--march!" And he ushered the Jamaican out as they had entered. The gaol was only a few doors down a cross street, and Job had soon delivered his prisoner into capable hands. Then he returned to Curtis's house. The shipowner was pacing up and down his library, where the paper lay half-crumpled on the floor. He looked up as Job entered and his brow was wrinkled deep with lines of worry. "Gad!" he exclaimed, "this is awful! Must we actually give up trying to punish the dog? Why, he has us at his mercy, it seems. The money I can raise, I believe, and it's not the thought of losing it that cuts me. It's letting that gallows-hound go unscathed. And if anything should slip in the plans--good God, it's too terrible to think of!" He dropped into an armchair, his head resting in his hands. Job understood something of the father's anguish and refrained from any comment. Standing by the broad oak mantelpiece, he mused over the chances of the boy's escape alive. Knowing Bonnet's eccentricities, he would have been the last to urge an armed attack in defiance of the terms in the letter. He had not the slightest doubt that the Captain, half-insane as he was, would be capable of even more dastardly crimes than the one he now threatened. Gradually an idea took form in the ex-pirate's brain. It was a bold one and needed to be executed boldly if at all. When the grief-stricken gentleman raised his head, Job turned and faced him. "Mr. Curtis," he said, "there's one thing to be done, as far's I can see, and I believe it's for me to do it. I've told you about Jeremy Swan, the boy we took aboard up north along. I think most as much o' getting him out o' this scrape as you do o' savin' your lad. Now here's my scheme. I know that coast around Cape Fear like I know the black schooner's deck. I'll get down there about the first o' September, an' I reckon they'll be there near the same time. I'll sneak up as close as I can in a small boat, then crawl acrost the bars till I'm near their moorin', an' swim out after dark, so I can look over the lay o' things aboard. It's just possible that I can get a word to one o' the boys and maybe take 'em off without bein' caught. You can be lyin' to, somewhere out o' sight, and' if we get clean away, we'll take the _Queen_ around an' blow Bonnet out o' water. That's the best I can offer, but if it works it'll do the job up brown." Curtis had listened earnestly, amazed at the daring of the man's suggestion. He reached out a broad hand and took Job's hairy fist in a grip that expressed the depth of his feelings. His eyes were blinking and he could not trust his voice, but the long Yankee knew that the risk he had offered to undertake was appreciated. They talked far into the night, planning the details of the attempt and discussing measures to be employed should it fail. They still had the best part of a month in which to work. It was Job's suggestion that they should interest the governments of North and South Carolina to help in destroying Bonnet's craft. The pirate's port of departure had been Charles Town and he was to be fought in waters adjacent to both the colonies. It seemed not unreasonable to hope that there was aid to be obtained there. Next day they asked the Governor's sanction to this proposal, and were so far rewarded that in less than another twenty-four hours a messenger had been dispatched to Wilmington and Charles Town bearing letters under the colony seal. CHAPTER XVI The _Royal James_ hurried down the Chesapeake for a day and a night before Captain Bonnet gave orders to free the young prisoners below in the bilboes. Jeremy and Bob came on deck stiff and weary from their cramped quarters and very far from happy in their minds. Rescue seemed farther away than ever, and though they had laid many plans for an escape by swimming, the sight of the great stretch of water off either beam--the shore was frequently a dozen miles away--quenched their hopes in this direction. The crew seemed quite elated over something, and talked and joked incessantly about the prospect of action in the near future. Bonnet was merrier than Jeremy had ever seen him, came often on deck and even mixed a little in the conversation of the foremast hands. On the night that they cleared the Capes he served out double noggins of rum to all the men aboard. There was a good deal of prodigality in the way it was poured out and a fine scene of carousal ensued, lasting until after the watch changed at midnight. It was the first time either of the boys had heard the smashing chorus of "Fifteen Men" sung by the whole fo'c's'le. Of course, the words had often been hummed by one or two of the pirates, but it took the hot cheer of the grog to open most of their throats. At the final "Yo, ho, ho!" every cannikin crashed on the deal table and the lantern heaved to and fro overhead as if a gale were blowing outside. There followed the howling refrain that Jeremy had heard on the beach of the island a month before--"An' we'll walk the bloody beggars all below, all below--an' we'll walk the bloody beggars all below!" The sentiment seemed too true to be picturesque after what had happened aboard the brig. The fierce-faced buccaneers, with their red, drunken eyes, strained forward, every man, and yelled like demons under the swaying lantern. Close behind and above were the smoky beams and planking, black with dancing shadows. Yet wild and exciting as it all was, Jeremy felt sickened. There was no illusion, no play-acting about it for him. He had seen the awful reality--the murder and the madness--and he had no admiration left for the jolly buccaneer of story. On the following morning, and for two days thereafter, the schooner cruised slowly along a level sea under shortened sail. A double lookout was kept constantly on duty and as they bore up to the northward, Jeremy saw that they must be watching for south-bound shipping out of the Delaware. Bonnet was evidently gambling on the chance that Bob's friends had given up the idea of pursuit. Then one hot mid-afternoon the two boys were startled from their places in the shade of the after-companion by a quick shout from the man at the masthead. They followed the direction of his pointing arm with their eyes and as the schooner heaved slowly on a gentle swell, they caught a glimpse of a low, broad sail on the port bow. The men were all on deck ready to trim the sails for greater speed, but Herriot, after consulting with the Captain, ordered the gunners and gun-servers below to prepare ordnance. Bob and Jeremy were under a tremendous strain of excitement. The stranger ship might be one of the New Castle fleet which Bob firmly believed to be searching the seas to recapture him from Bonnet. Should it prove to be so, their lives were in worse danger than ever, for neither of the boys doubted that the erratic Captain would kill them at once if the fight went against him. However, their minds were soon set at rest on this score. As the pirate drew up closer and closer, the details of the other ship became visible to those on deck. She also was schooner-rigged, a trifle larger than the _Royal James_, but without the latter's height of mast. Her low free-board indicated that she was heavily cargoed. No gunports could be seen along her sides. Bonnet now ordered an extra jib to be broken out, and had the sloop brought around on the port tack so that her course, instead of running opposite to the stranger's, would obliquely cross it. The wind, what little there was, came from the West. As soon as the other ship perceived this change in direction, she veered off her course closer to the wind, and almost immediately the boys could see the white flutter of some extra canvas being spread at her bows. As this new piece filled out, it proved to be a great balloon jib, which increased her sail area by nearly half. Her head came off the wind again and she went bowing along over the swells to the southward faster than one would have imagined possible. Bonnet had figured on crossing her at close range, but as she swept onward he realized that he would go by too far astern to hail her if he kept his present direction. Herriot himself took the tiller. As quickly as he could, without loss of headway, he eased the _Royal James_ over till she was running nearly parallel with the fleeing ship. His orders came quick and fast, while the men trimmed the main and fore sheets to the last hair's breadth of perfection. It was to be a race, and a hard one. For nearly half an hour the sloops ran along almost neck and neck and perhaps half a mile apart. The pirates dared not risk pointing closer to the wind in order to get into cannon range. They would have lost so much speed that it would have developed into a stern chase--useless since they possessed only broadside batteries. The best they could do was to hold their position, hoping for luck in the wind. Bonnet scowled awhile at the British Jack that still flew from the _James's_ top, then went below and brought up the black pirate flag. The buccaneers, now all assembled on deck, gave it a cheerful howl of greeting as it fluttered up to the main truck. "Now we'll catch 'em, lads!" roared Herriot, and they answered him with a second cheer. For once, however, the Jolly Roger seemed to bring bad fortune instead of good. The wind had hardly swept it easily to leeward once when it fell back against the shrouds, hardly stirring. The pirate sloop's deck righted slowly and her limp sails drooped from the gaffs. A sudden flaw in the breeze had settled about her, without interrupting her rival's progress in the least. A glum despair came over the crew. They lolled, for the most part silent or grumbling curses, against the rails, with here and there one trying to whistle up a wind. The other sloop rapidly drew away to the south. Bonnet had been talking to Herriot with quick gestures and pointings. Now he walked forward swiftly and the men got to their feet with a jump. "We'll board the prize yet," said the Captain short and sharp. "Now look alive--every one of you!" He ordered one squad of men to the hold for spars, another for rope, a third for a spare mainjib. Meanwhile he set two men to making a sort of stirrup out of blocks of wood. This was fastened to the deck far up in the bows. When the spars came up he had one of them rigged with a tackle running to the foremast, and set its foot in the wooden contrivance just finished. It swung out forward like a great jibboom. The crew saw what was in the Captain's mind and gave a ringing yell of joy. A score of willing hands made fast the stays to windward and others spread the spare sail from the upper end of the spar. As the last rope was bent, a strong draught of air came over the water. The canvas shook, then filled, and as the fresh breeze steadied in her sails the sloop heeled far to port. She moved faster and faster, while the white water surged away under her lee. This was sailing worth while! The returning wind had come in much stronger than before the flaw, and was now almost worthy of at least one reef under ordinary conditions. With her extra canvas, the _James_ was canted over perilously. Her lee scuppers were often awash and a good deal of water was coming into the port gundeck. But to the delight of all on board, including the boys, who could hardly be blamed for relishing the excitement, Bonnet refused to take in an inch of sail. Instead, he ordered every available man to the weather rail. The dead weight of thirty seamen all leaning half-way over the side served to keep the light craft ballasted for the time being. Bob and Jeremy clung to the rail amidships and vied with each other in stretching out over the boiling seas that raced below. The fleeing ship, which had gained four or five miles during the lull, was now in plain view again, nearly straight ahead. Her deep lading was telling against her now. The handicap of sail area being overcome, the black pirate's shallow draft and long lines gave her the advantage. Every buccaneer in the crew was howling with excitement as the race went on. The long main boom of the _Royal James_ skipped through the spray and her mainsail was wet to the second line of reef points, but Herriot held her square on the course and Bonnet smiled grimly ahead, with a look that meant he would run her under before he would shorten sail. Hand over hand they overhauled their rival, until once more the tiny figures of men were visible over her rail. A little knot of them were gathered aft, busy at something. Bonnet seized his glass and scrutinized them intently. Then he yelled to Herriot to ease the sloop off to port. "They've got a gun astern there!" he shouted. "They'll try our range in a minute." Hardly had he spoken when a spout of foam went up from the sea far to starboard, followed almost instantly by the dull sound of an explosion. By the time the gunners on the ship had loaded their piece again the _James_ had come over to their port quarter and they had to shift the cannon's position. The shot went close overhead, cutting a corner from the black flag of the pirate. Bonnet swore beneath his breath, then ordered the cannoneers below to their batteries. They went on the run. Jeremy and Bob stayed above watching the operations on the enemy's deck. The two sloops were less than three hundred yards apart and the _James_ had drawn nearly abeam when a third shot came from her rival's deck gun. This time it crashed into the pirate's hull far up by the bits. Bonnet was by the fore hatch, sword in hand, as was his custom during an action. Looking coolly at the splintered bulwark forward, then back at the enemy, he gave the sharp "Ready a starboard broadside!" to the waiting gunners. He allowed them time to have their matches alight, then "Fire!" rang his clear voice. The deck leaped under the boys' feet. The long, thunderous bellow of the battery jarred out over the sea. Even as they looked the enemy's maingaff, shot away at the jaws, dangled loose from the peak halyards, and her broad sail crumpled, puffing out awkwardly in the breeze. At the same time a wide rent in her side above the waterline gaped black as she topped a wave. The gunners' cheer as they saw their handiwork rose to a deafening yell, taken up by all hands, when, a moment later, the British colors came fluttering down aboard the other ship. Herriot ordered the improvised spinnaker and the flying-jib taken in, then brought the buccaneer sloop around and came up beside the newly captured prize. All the pirates were behind the bulwarks with muskets loaded, prepared for any treachery that might be intended. However, as they ranged alongside, the hostile crew lined up on their deck, sullen but unarmed, and the Captain, a big, gray-bearded man, held up a piece of white cloth in token of surrender. Bonnet hailed him, asking his name. "Captain Peter Manewaring of the sloop _Francis,_ Philadelphia for Charles Town," answered the coasting skipper. "And I am Captain Thomas, in command of the sloop _Royal James,_" Bonnet gave him in return. "You will set your men to carrying over into my ship all the powder you have aboard. As soon as we are fast alongside I shall be pleased to entertain you in the cabin." The sails were run down on both sloops and their hulls were quickly lashed together with ropes. Herriot superintended the operation of transferring a half-dozen kegs of powder, some casks of wine and the best food in the coaster's larder to the hold of the black schooner. The cargo of the _Francis_ was a varied one, but not by any means a poor prize. She carried some grain in bags forward, a great number of bolts of cloth, chiefly woollens, and other things of divers sorts, including some fine mahogany chairs and tables newly brought from England. The wine was merely incidental, but proved very acceptable to the ever-thirsty buccaneers. That night, with the nine men of the _Francis's_ crew lying in irons on the ballast, they drank deep to their victory, and once more Jeremy and Bob fell asleep to the rough half-harmony of their bellowings. CHAPTER XVII A stiff easterly breeze whitened the gray seas next morning. It was cloudy and seemed to be getting ready for a blow. The pirate and her prize had drifted all night, bound together, and as day broke a tipsy lookout spied land to the westward. Herriot came on deck hastily at the call and himself went to the rail to heave the lead. The soundings showed a bare four fathoms of water. Bonnet was summoned and the crew, hardly recovered from their orgy, staggered about the deck preparing to get under way again. Seven men, under Dunkin, were told off to man the _Francis._ A dozen others were needed to plug her shot-holes before she was really seaworthy. This task being finally accomplished, the ropes were taken off, the sails run up and the two sloops, closehauled to starboard, set about beating off shore. It was a terrible day for Jeremy and Bob. In the crew there was the regular fighting, swearing and vomiting that always followed a night of carousal. The fact that they were short-handed made the work harder and the grumbling louder than ever. The bow of the _Royal James_ was partly shot away above the bits, and there was a full day's work for every hand that could be spared rigging canvas over the gap to prevent its taking in water in case of a storm. Meanwhile the fo'c's'le was in as filthy a state as could well be imagined. Herriot thrust his head down the hatch once during the morning and as he caught the sickening stench of the place he called the two boys, who had been up forward helping the patching. "Here, young 'uns, get below and clean up," he ordered sharply, and handed each lad a bucket and a deck-brush. They filled the buckets and went below reluctantly. At first it was impossible for them to stay under hatches for more than five minutes at a time, so they took turns in running up for air and a fresh supply of water. Gradually the flooding they gave the place told in its atmosphere, and by noon they had put it into decent shape again. Hardly had Jeremy come on deck, weary and sickened with this task, when Captain Bonnet called to him from the companion. He made his way aft and entered the cabin. Bonnet had just resumed his place at the broad table. Opposite him and facing Jeremy was the big slouched figure of Captain Manewaring. "Bring the wine, Jeremy," said the buccaneer quietly, and without turning. He was looking with steady eyes at his guest. Jeremy went back along the passage to the wine-locker under the companion stairs and took from it two bottles of Madeira. As he was closing the cupboard door, Bonnet's voice cut the air like a knife. The two words he spoke were not loud, but pronounced with a terrible distinctness. "You lie!" was what he said. Jeremy shivered and waited, listening. There was no reply loud enough for him to hear through the closed door of the cabin. After a moment he tiptoed back and before turning the knob listened again. Nothing but silence. He opened the door with a pounding heart and stepped into the room. The two men sat motionless in their places. Bonnet held a cocked pistol in his right hand, its point covering the other man's head. On the table before Manewaring was a second pistol. His face was drawn and gray and a fine sweat stood upon his forehead. Jeremy shrank against the wall, hardly breathing, his two bottles clutched idiotically, one in each hand. The tense seconds ticked on by the cabin clock. "Come--quick!" said the pirate, with a gesture toward the other pistol. Manewaring's hand appeared over the edge of the table and gave a trembling jerk toward the pistol-butt. Then it fell back into his lap. He gasped. A drop of sweat ran down his temple into his gray beard. Again the only sounds were the tick of the cabin clock, the wash of the seas outside and the hoarse breathing of the cornered man. At length he moved with a sort of shudder, whispered the name of his Maker and seized the butt of the pistol desperately. Bonnet had raised his weapon, pointing to the ceiling. "I shall count three, then fire," said he in the same even voice. "One----" But before he spoke again his opponent had jerked his muzzle down and fired. Bonnet must have seen the flash of the intention in his eyes, for he threw himself to the left at that instant, and the shot went crashing through a panel of the door. With the deliberate sureness of Fate the pirate took aim at his adversary, who whimpered and grovelled behind the table. Then he shot him. Jeremy's knees went limp, but he saved himself from falling and managed to set the bottles on the table. Behind him as he staggered out, Stede Bonnet poured himself a glass of wine and drank it with a steady hand. The boy met a crowd of men at the head of the companion, but was too shaken to tell them what had happened. Herriot, going below, heard the details of the duel from the Captain's own lips. Under the sailing-master's orders the body of the dead man was carried out on deck, sewed into a piece of sailcloth and heaved over the rail without more ado. Jeremy made his way to his bunk and told Bob the story between chattering teeth. There was silence on the ship that afternoon. Bonnet's action had sobered his rough company to the point where they ceased quarreling and talked in undertones, gathering in little knots about the slanted deck when not at work. The two boys were glad enough to be out of the way. Jeremy, tired and discouraged, sat on the bunk's edge, his shoulders hunched and his eyes on the floor. His young companion, who had more cause for hope, watched him with sympathetic eyes. He could see that the New England boy was too dejected even to try to plan their escape--the usual occupation of their hours together. Finally he reached over, a bit shyly, and gave him a friendly pat on the back. "Brace up, Jeremy," he said. "You're clean tuckered out, but a rest and a nap'll help. Here, cover yourself up and I'll do your work tonight. Maybe I'll have a scheme thought up to tell you in the morning." Jeremy cared little whether he slept or woke, for the events of the past days, coupled with the disappointment of not being set ashore as he had hoped, had brought even his determined courage to a low ebb. He was on the verge of a fever, and Bob's prescription of rest and sleep was what he most needed. Made snug at the back side of the berth, where little or no light came, he fell into a fitful slumber. Bob took a last look to see that his friend was comfortable and went on deck. Pharaoh Daggs had taken a great deal of liquor the night before, as was his wont when grog was being passed. The rum he consumed seemed to affect him very little. No one ever heard him sing, though his cruel face, with its awful, livid scar, would lean forward and sway to and fro with the rhythm of the choruses. He could walk a reeling deck or climb a slack shroud as well, to all appearances, when he had taken a gallon as most men when they were sober. From Newfoundland to Trinidad he was known among the pirates as a man whose head would stand drink like a sheet-iron bucket. This reputation was made possible by the fact that he was no talker at any time, and when in liquor clamped his jaws like a sprung trap. Whatever effect the alcohol may have had upon his mind was not apparent because no thoughts passed his lips. The rum did go to his head, however. The instinctive effort of will that kept his legs steady and his mouth shut had no root in thought. Behind the veil of those light eyes, the brain of Pharaoh Daggs, drunk, was like a seething pit, one black fuddle of ugliness. To compensate for the apparent lack of effect of liquor upon him, the inward disturbance usually lasted long after the more tipsy seamen had slept around to clear heads. Today he lolled with his sneering face toward the weather beam, a figure upon whose privacy no one would care to trespass. The sound of the shots and the tale of the duel had neither one awakened in him any apparent interest. Through the long afternoon till nearly five o'clock he slouched by the fo'c's'le. Then with a leisurely stretch he walked to the hatch, and peered down it. Wheeling about he scanned the deck craftily, looking at all the men in turn, before he descended the ladder. In the half-light below he paused again, and seemed to send his piercing glance into every bunk, from the forward to the after bulkhead. Finally, satisfied that no one else was in the fo'c's'le, he went to his own sleeping place, on the port side, and kneeling beside the berth hauled a heavy sea-chest from beneath it. Jeremy's light sleep was broken by a scraping sound close by. He opened his eyes without moving, and from where he lay could see a man busy at something opposite him. As the figure turned and straightened, he knew it for the man with the broken nose. The boy was instantly on the alert, for he had every reason to distrust Daggs. Without making a sound he worked nearer to the edge of the bunk and pulled the cover up to hide all but his eyes. The pirate hauled his chest out farther into the middle of the floor, where more light fell. [Illustration] Then he knelt before it and unlocked it with a key which he took from about his neck. Jeremy almost expected to see a heap of gold coin as the lid was raised. He was disappointed. A garment of dark cloth, probably a cloak, and some dirty linen were all that came to view. The buccaneer lifted out a number of articles of seaman's gear and laid them beside him. After them came a leather pouch, quite heavy, Jeremy thought. The man raised it carefully and weighed it in his hand. It must have been his portion of the spoils taken on the voyage. However, this was not what he was after, it seemed, for a moment later it was laid on the floor beside the other things. Next he removed two pistols and a second pouch of the sort used for powder and shot. There was a long interval as he rummaged in the bottom of the box, under other contents which Jeremy could not see. At last the pirate stood up, holding a rolled paper tied with string. Another long moment he peered about him and listened. When he had reassured himself, he untied the string and opened the paper, a square document, perhaps a foot each way. It was discolored and worn at the edges, apparently quite old. What was inscribed on it Jeremy could not see, stare as he might. Daggs examined it a moment, then knelt, preoccupied, and spread it upon the floor. With one finger he traced a line along it, zigzagging from one side diagonally to the foot, his lips moving silently meanwhile. Then his other hand hovered above the document for a time before he planted his thumb squarely upon a spot near the top. Jeremy's thoughts kept time with his racing heart. He watched every motion of the buccaneer with a fierce intentness that missed no detail. Daggs had been quiet for a full two minutes, a crafty gloating smile playing over his thin lips. Now once more he touched a place upon the sheet before him. "Right there, she'll be," he muttered. Then, after slowly rolling up the paper, he replaced it and locked the box. The eyes of the boy in the bunk gleamed excitedly, for he was sure now of the nature of the document. Beyond any reasonable doubt, it was a chart. "Solomon Brig's treasure!" he whispered to himself as the tall figure of the man with the broken nose clambered upward through the hatch. CHAPTER XVIII Jeremy realized that his life would be in danger if Daggs saw him coming on deck after what had just happened. He lay still, therefore, in spite of his desire to tell Bob what he had seen. The rest of the afternoon his imagination painted pictures of ironbound chests half-buried in the yellow beach sand of some lonely island far down in the tropics; gloomy caves beneath mysteriously waving palm trees--caves whose black depths shot forth a ruddy gleam of gold coin, when a chance ray of light came through the shade; of shattered hulks that lay ten fathoms down in the clear green water of some still lagoon, where pure white coral beds gave back the sleeping sunshine, and fishes of all bright colors he had ever seen or dreamed about swam through the ancient ports to stare goggle-eyed at heaps of glistening gems. At last he must have slept, for Bob's voice in his ear brought him back to the dingy fo'c's'le of the _Royal James_ with a start. The lantern was lit and most of the port watch were snoring heavily in their bunks after a hard day's work. Bob took off his shoes and trousers and climbed into the narrow berth beside his friend, who was now wide awake. "Listen, Bob," whispered the New England boy as soon as they were settled, "do you remember the things Daggs has said, off and on, about old Sol Brig--how there was always a lot of gold that the men before the mast never saw and how he must have saved it till he was the richest of all the pirates? Well, who would know what became of that money, if anybody did? Daggs, of course, the only man that's left of Brig's crew! I think Daggs knows, and what's more, I believe I saw the very chart that shows where it is." He went on to tell all he had seen that afternoon. Bob was as excited as he when he had finished. "We must try to get hold of that map or else get a sight of it!" he exclaimed. Jeremy was doubtful of the possibility of this. "You see," he said, "the key is on a string 'round his neck. The only way would be to break the chest open. It's big and heavy and we should raise the whole ship with the racket. Then, besides, I don't like to steal the thing, even though he is a pirate." Bob also felt that it would hardly be honest to break into a man's box, no matter what his character might be. "If we should just happen to see the chart, though," he finally explained, "why, we have just as much right to hunt for the treasure as he has, or any one else." Jeremy agreed to this solution of a knotty problem of honor and both boys decided that for the present they had no course in the matter but to wait for some accident to put the paper in their way. However, not to let any opportunities slip, they resolved to watch Pharaoh Daggs constantly while he was awake, in the hope of getting a second glimpse of the treasured document. Jeremy had regained both strength and spirits when he tumbled out next morning. The pall of uneasiness which had hung over the ship all the day before had lifted and the men, sobered once more, went about their business as usual. The boys set themselves to the task of watching with much zeal. It was not so difficult as might be expected. They had always been aware of the presence of the man with the broken nose whenever he was on deck. His sinister eye was too unpleasant to meet without a shiver. Likewise they felt an instinctive relief when he went out of sight. For this reason it was no great matter for either lad that happened to be present to note the fact of the pirate's going below. Whenever he left the deck for anything he was shadowed by Bob or Jeremy as the case might be. For nearly three days the mysterious chest remained untouched. Of that the boys were sure. The threatened storm that had roughened the sea on the day when Captain Manewaring met his sudden end seemed to have spent itself in racing clouds and gusts of wind. Fair weather followed and for forty-eight hours the _James_ and her prize stood off the coast, heading up to the northeastward with the wind on the port quarter. Bonnet had remained below, haggard and brooding, suffering from one of the spells of reaction that commonly followed his misdeeds. By night of the second day he cast off his gloom and came on deck, the old reckless light in his eye. "Here, Herriot," he called, as he appeared, "we've got a rich prize in our fist and a richer one coming. Let's be gay dogs all tonight. Give the hands extra grog and I'll see you in the cabin over a square bottle when the watch is changed." Before the mast the news was hailed with delighted cheering. A keg of rum was rolled out of the hold and set on the fo'c's'le table. Hardly had darkness settled before half the men aboard were drunk and the cannikins came back to the spigot in an unending procession. There was too much liquor available for the usual choruses to be sung. Most of the pirates swilled it like pigs and stopped for nothing till they could move no longer, but lay helpless where they happened to fall. Only a bare three men stayed sober enough to sail the ship. Jeremy thanked his stars for fair weather when he thought of the case they might have been in had the orgy occurred in a night of storm. Next day a few of the crew woke at breakfast time. The rest snored out their drunken sleep below. Daggs came on deck as usual, to the outward eye quite his careless, ugly self. His two young enemies watched him closely, for they suspected that the drink he had taken had helped to Jeremy's previous discovery. As the hours went by, one after another of the buccaneers woke and dragged himself on deck to growl the discomfort out of him. By mid-afternoon Jeremy, going below, found all the bunks empty. He slipped behind a chest far up in the dark bow angle and waited for a signal from Bob. The boys had seen the man with the broken nose watching the decks uneasily for hours and suspected that he meant to go below as soon as the fo'c's'le was empty. Jeremy must have been in his hiding place close to half an hour before he heard Bob's sharply whistled tune close outside in the gun deck. He ducked lower behind his box and presently heard steps descending the ladder. A guarded observation taken from a dark corner close to the floor disclosed the slouching form of Daggs standing by the table. The buccaneer took a long time for his cautious survey of the fo'c's'le. Standing perfectly still he turned his body from the hips and gave the place a silent scrutiny before he set to work. He proceeded just as he had done before and quickly had the chest open and its contents spread upon the planking. He had just unrolled the chart when a shout from the hatch made him leap to his feet. "Sail ho!" was being passed from mouth to mouth above, and already there were men on the ladder. In a fever of haste, Daggs half-pushed, half-threw the chest under his bunk and shoved the loose clothes and small arms after it. The paper he still held in his hand. After a second of indecision, while he looked over his shoulder at the descending crowd of seamen, he thrust it in on top of the box and stood erect, flushed and swaying. The hands were preoccupied and none seemed to notice his act. There was a general scurrying of sailors to get out their cutlasses and pistols, and in the confusion Jeremy found an easy opportunity to crawl out of the hiding place and busy himself like the rest. Going on deck a minute later, he found Bob and whispered a brief account of what he had seen. For the present there was much to be done on deck. They ran hither and thither at Herriot's commands, giving a hand at a rope or fetching something mislaid in the cabin. The _James_ was under all her canvas and in hot pursuit of a large sloop, visible some three miles to leeward. The fleeing ship was driving straight to sea before the strong west breeze, her sails spread on both sides like the broad, stubby wings of a white owl. Bonnet had his jury spar swung to starboard from the foremast foot and bent the big jib to balance his main and foresail. Bowing her head deep into every trough as the waves swept by, the black sloop ran after her prey at dizzy speed. The crew gathered along the wet bows, silent, intent on the game in hand. They were drawing up perceptibly from moment to moment. At last they were within half a mile--five hundred yards--close astern. Aboard the enemy they could see a small knot of men huddled aft, working desperately at the breach of a swivel-cannon. Bonnet ordered Herriot to stand off to starboard for a broadside. But as the _James_ swerved outward, a flare of fire and a loud report went up from her opponent's after part. For a moment it seemed that her cannon had been discharged at the pirate, but as they waited for the splash of the shot, a thick smoke grew in a cloud over the enemy's deck. The gun or a keg of powder had exploded. As soon as the buccaneers perceived it, they bellowed hoarse hurrahs and prepared to board. The gunners swarmed up from the port gun deck at the order and all lined up along the rail howling defiance at the merchantman. Jeremy saw that all were on deck and touched Bob's arm. They made their way quietly below, and the New Englander went to Daggs' berth. From beneath it protruded the corner of the piece of paper. Both boys knelt eagerly over it as Jeremy pulled it into the light. It was, as they had expected, a chart. The drawing was crudely done in ink, applied it seemed with a stick, or possibly with a very badly fashioned quill-pen. There was very little writing upon it, and this of the raggedest sort. To their intense disappointment it bore no name to tell where in the seven seas it might be. That the chart was of some coast was certain. A deep, irregular bay occupied the central part of the sheet. Two long promontories jutting from east and west nearly closed the seaward or southern end. The single word "Watter" was written beside a dot high up on the paper and a little northeast of the bay. An anchor, roughly drawn near the northern shore and a small cross between two parallel lines a short distance inland, completed the information given, except for a crossed arrow and letters indicating the cardinal points of the compass. [Illustration] It required no great time for the two lads to examine every line and mark. They looked up and faced each other disappointed. Jeremy voiced the thought which both had. "How are we to know where the thing is?" he asked. Bob shook his head and looked glum. Then he seized the paper feverishly and turned it over. Its soiled yellow back gave no clue. Not even the latitude and longitude were printed. "Well," said Jeremy, finally, "one thing we can do, and that's remember exactly how it looks." He measured the length of the bay with the middle joint of his forefinger. "Three--four--and a bit over," he counted. "Anchorage in that round cove to the northwest." Then, measuring again, "And the cross is two finger-joints northwest of the anchorage. What those lines each side of it are I don't know, but I'll remember them. And that dot marked "Watter" is one and a half northeast of the mitten-shaped cove. There--I guess we've got it all by heart now." He had just finished speaking and both of them were still looking intently at the map when a fresh outburst of cheers and the beginning of a sharp musketry fire were heard above. Jeremy replaced the paper where he had found it and they hurried up to look out of the hatchway. The two ships were now only half a cable's length apart, running side by side. Few shots were being returned by the merchantman and all her crew were keeping out of sight behind the solid rail. "All hands to board her," Bonnet sang out and answering her tiller the _Royal James_ swung over till the two sloops' sides met with a jar. They were fast in an instant and a score of whooping buccaneers swept over the rail. From a place of vantage the boys watched the short, bloody conflict that followed. It seemed that several of the enemy's crew, few as they were at the beginning, had been killed by the explosion of the gun. Only a half-dozen rose to meet the pirate onslaught. Not one asked for mercy, even after Herriot had shot down the captain, and the tide of sea-rovers rushed at and over the little handful of defenders in an overwhelming flood. There was no need of the plank this time. Every man fell fighting and died sword in hand. To the two young prisoners, already sickened with the sight of blood, this wholesale murder of a band of gallant seamen came as a revolting climax. They stared at each other, white-faced as they thought of the fate that threatened them and all honest men who fell into such ruthless hands. It was Bob's first sight of a hand-to-hand sea-battle, and as the last merchant sailor went down under the howling pack he fainted and tumbled into Jeremy's arms. When he came to his senses again the Yankee boy had propped him up behind the companion and was rubbing him vigorously. "I know how you feel," he said in answer to Bob's stammered apology. "It's all right and you've no call to be ashamed. I came near it myself." The Delaware lad, who had been almost as distressed at being guilty of swooning as at the pillage of the merchant sloop, felt a vast relief when he heard Jeremy's words, and quickly got upon his feet once more. The pirates had cleared the enemy's deck of bodies and blood and now were taking an inventory of the sloop's cargo, if the shouts that came from her hold meant anything. She was a little larger than the _James_ in length and beam, but had carried no armament other than the now damaged stern-chaser. The white letters at her stern declared her the _Fortune_ of New Castle. From what Captain Bonnet said to his sailing-master as they returned over the rail, Jeremy gathered that she had been in light cargo and was not as rich a prize as the _Francis_. The latter ship had now come up and was standing off and on waiting for orders. Bonnet had lost two men killed and several hurt in the fight, so that the crew of the _Royal James_, without the prize crew on board the _Francis_, now numbered scarce a dozen able-bodied men. The question of manning the newly captured sloop was finally settled by transferring to her George Dunkin and his seven seamen. Bonnet freed the men of the _Francis_ who had been in chains, and set them to work their own ship under command of Herriot and another pirate. He undertook to sail the _James_ himself, for by this time he was really an able skipper, despite the fact that he had taken to the sea so late in life. As the crew of the _Francis_ lined up before going aboard, the notorious buccaneer faced them with a cold glitter in his eyes. For a while he kept them wriggling under his piercing scrutiny. Then he spoke, his voice even and dangerous. "You will be under Mr. Herriot's orders. I think you are wise enough not to try to mutiny with him. But if you should undertake it, remember that no sooner does your sloop draw away to over one mile's distance than I will come after you and blow you out of water without parley. There are just enough sails left aboard your ship to keep headway in a light breeze. Over with you now!" As darkness deepened the three sloops set out westward under shortened canvas, keeping so close that the steersmen hailed each other frequently through the night. Bob and Jeremy went to their bunks gloomy and subdued. But Jeremy's sorrows were lightened by the feeling that sometime, somewhere, he would find a use for the chart, the outline of which he had firmly fixed in his memory that afternoon. And wondering how, he fell asleep. CHAPTER XIX The fair weather held and for several days the little fleet cruised west by south, then southerly when they had picked up the Virginia Capes. The pirate crew, in spite of their impatience to divide the cumbersome booty they had helped to win, kept in a fairly good temper. Hopes were high and quarrels were quickly put aside with a "Take it easy, boys--wait till the sharin's over." Bob and Jeremy got off with a minimum of hard words and might have considered their lot almost agreeable but for one incident. The whippings which were a regular part of boys' lives aboard ship in those days, had always been administered by George Dunkin. As bo's'n, it was not only his right but his duty to lay in with a rope's end occasionally. He was one of the fairest men in Bonnet's company and Jeremy had never felt any great injustice in the treatment Dunkin had accorded him. Since his lieutenancy aboard the prize-sloop, however, the bo's'n had necessarily ceased to be the executive of punishment, and when Monday, recognized on all the seas as whipping day, came around, there was a very secret hope in Jeremy's heart that the office would be forgotten. As for Bob, he had so far escaped the lash, it being understood that he was not an ordinary ship's boy. As the day wore on, the Yankee lad remained as inconspicuous as possible, and began to think that he was safe. About mid-afternoon, however, a gang of buccaneers, working at the rent in the bows which still gave trouble, shouted for a bucket of drinking water. Bob had been snoozing in the shade of the sail, and when he was roused at last, took his own time in carrying out the order. When he appeared finally, there was a good deal of swearing in the air. Daggs reached out and jerked the boy into the center of the group, his light eyes agleam under scowling brows. "See here, you little runt," he hissed, "don't think because the Cap'n's savin' you to kill later, that you're the bloomin' mate of this ship! Come here to the capstan, now!" Before Bob was aware of what they meant to do, the angry sailors had slung him over a capstan bar and tied his hands and feet to a ring in the deck. After the clothes had been pulled off his back, there was an interval while the pirates quarrelled over who should do the whipping. Daggs demanded the right and finally prevailed by threatening the instant disemboweling of his rivals. Bob was trembling and white, not from fear but because of the indignity of the punishment. The scarred executioner spat on his hands, took the heavy rope and squared his feet. "Shiver away, you cowardly pup," said he, grinning at one side of his twisted mouth. Then with a vicious whirl of his arm he brought the hard hemp down on the boy's naked shoulders--once, twice, three times--the lad lost count. At last he nearly lost consciousness under the torturing fire of the blows. When the buccaneer ceased for lack of breath his victim hung limp and twitching over the wooden bar. Long welts that were beginning to drip red crossed and recrossed his back. "Now, where's that other whelp?" panted Daggs. Somebody went below and dragged Jeremy to light. The boy was brought up to the crowd at the capstan. He took one look at Bob's pitiful, set stare and the red drops on the deck, then turned blazing to face the man with the broken nose. "You great coward!" he cried. The man was staggered for an instant. Then his rage boiled up and the tanned skin of his neck turned the color of old mahogany. "I'll kill the boy," he whispered hoarsely and drew back his heavy rope for a swing at Jeremy's head. "Daggs"--a voice cut the air from close by his side. "Daggs, who made you bo's'n of this sloop?" The man whirled and nearly fell over, for Stede Bonnet was at his elbow. "One more thing of this kind aboard, and I'll maroon you," said the Captain sharply, and added, "Gray, put this man in irons and see that he gets only bread and water for five days!" Then he turned on his heel and went back to the cabin. So once more Jeremy's life was saved by the Captain's whim. He half carried, half supported his chum to their bunk and after rubbing his back with grease, begged from the galley, nursed him the rest of the day. By the following afternoon the Delaware lad had recovered his spirits and although he was still too sore and stiff to go on deck, had no trouble in eating the food Jeremy brought him. The absence of Daggs made life assume a happier outlook and it was not long before the boy was as right as ever. August was nearly past. To the boys, who knew little of the geography of the coast and nothing of Bonnet's plans, it was something of a surprise when the man at the tiller of the _James_, which was in the lead, swung her head over to landward one morning. Low shores, with a white line of sand beneath the vivid dark green of trees, ran along the western horizon. As the sloop ran in, the boys expected to see the broad opening of some bay but there was still no visible variation of the coast line. No town was to be seen, nor even a single hut, when they were close in. The trees were live-oaks, Bob said, though Jeremy had never seen one to know it before. The _Royal James_ and her consorts held a slow course along the shore for several hours. The strip of sand was gradually widening and in places stretched inland for a mile in dunes and hillocks, traversed by little tidewater creeks. At last there showed a narrow inlet between two dunes, and Bonnet, who had now taken the helm, headed the sloop cautiously for this opening. One of the men constantly heaved the lead and cried the soundings as the ship progressed. The pirate chief kept to the left of the channel and finally passed through into a wide lagoon, with a scant fathom to spare at the shallowest place. The _Fortune_ entered without difficulty, but the deeply-laden _Francis_ grounded midway in and had to wait several hours for the tide to float her. Listening to the talk of the crew, Bob heard them say they had come into the mouth of the Cape Fear River in Carolina. From what he knew of the nearby coast he believed that it was a very wild region, almost unsettled, and that there would be slight chance of getting to safety, even if they were able to effect an escape. This fear seemed justified later in the day, when Bonnet said to one of his men that there was no need of shackling the boys as had been done in the Chesapeake. Turning so that they could hear, he added, "Too many Indians in these woods for the lads to try to leave the ship." Jeremy, who had seen enough of both pirates and Indians to last him a lifetime, remarked to his friend that personally he would risk his neck with one as soon as the other, but Bob had heard terrible stories of the red men's cruelty and did not agree with him. "We'd best stay aboard and wait for a better chance," he argued. All three of the sloops were leaky and needed a thorough overhauling in various ways. As soon as the _Francis_ was off the bar, therefore, they proceeded up the estuary for a distance of nearly two miles and secured their vessels in shallow water, where they could be careened at low tide. Next morning and for many hot days thereafter the pirates and their prisoners toiled hard at the refitting of the ships. Lumber was not easy to come by in that desolate region and when they had used up all their spare planking, Bonnet took the _Royal James_ out over the bar to hunt for the wherewithal to do his patching. After a cruise of a day and a night to the southward they sighted a small fishing shallop which they quickly overtook, and captured without a fight. The two men in the shallop jumped overboard and swam ashore when they saw the black flag, and Bonnet was too much occupied in getting the prize back to the river-mouth to give chase. It was an unfortunate thing for him that he did not do so, but of that presently. The shallop was run into the river-mouth and broken up the next day. With the fresh supply of lumber thus secured, the work of repair went forward undelayed, and within a few weeks the sloops were almost ready for sea again. CHAPTER XX It had been about the beginning of September when the pirate fleet had sighted the live oaks on the bars of the Cape Fear River. To Bob and Jeremy those first days were uneventful but hardly pleasant. Through the long still afternoons a pitiless sun blazed into every corner of the deck. Wide flats and hot-looking white dunes stretched away on either hand. Only the line of woods half a mile distant offered a suggestion of green coolness. When the sun had set the fo'c's'le held the heat like a baker's oven. One long, tossing night of it sufficed for the two boys, and after that they sought a corner of the deck away from the snoring seamen and lying down on the bare planks, contrived to sleep in reasonable comfort. The days were spent in hard work for the most part. A good deal of washing and cleaning had to be done aboard all three vessels, and as labor requiring no special skill, it fell frequently to the lot of Jeremy and Bob. It was small matter to them whether they toiled or were idle, for the blistering sun allowed no respite and it seemed preferable to sweat over something useful than over nothing at all. On the third day after the return of the _James_ from her foraging trip, Jeremy, who had been scraping and tarring ropes for hours on end, straightened his back with a discontented grunt and looked away to the edge of the woods, his eyebrows puckered in a frown. "Bob," he said in a voice too low for any of their shipmates to hear, "Bob, I'm going to run away if something doesn't happen soon." "You'll be shot, like as not," answered the Delaware boy. "Well, shot let it be," he replied doggedly. "If I'm to stay aboard here all my life, I'd _rather_ be shot. It looks like the best chance we've had, right now. Will you come tonight?" Bob thought for a moment. "I'm not afraid of their catching us," he finally said. "It's the Indians, after we're into the woods. You say you know the Indians and trust them as long as they are treated right. That may be true of the ones you've known, but these Tuscaroras are different. They don't talk the same language, and those words you learned would mayhap go for curses down here. I don't think we ought to try it." Jeremy admitted that his previous acquaintance stood for nothing, but argued, from the fact that Bonnet had been trying to frighten them, that he had probably exaggerated the danger. Finally, not wishing to leave his friend if he could help it, he agreed to abandon the plan for the present. They worked at the rope-tarring till suppertime, then rose wearily, stretching, and went for their salt-horse and biscuit. When the coarse rations were eaten, it was nearly sunset. Jeremy watched the sluggish water glide by below the canted rail, till at last small quivering blurs of light, the reflections of stars, began to gleam in the ripples. A faint breeze, sprung up with the coming of night, blew across the sweltering lagoon. Bob, tired out, fell asleep, his head pillowed on the deck. The pirates, some below in the bunks, some stretched on the planking, lay like dead men. After the hard labor of the day even the regular watch slumbered undisturbed. Jeremy's thoughts went drifting off into half-dreams as the soft black water lulled him with its unending whisper. His head nodded. He raised it, striving, he knew not why, to keep awake. The gentle water-sounds crept in again, soothing his drowsy ears. He was close to sleep--so close that another moment would have taken him across the border. But in that little time the sharp double cry of a heron, flying high over the lagoon, cut the night air and startled the boy broad awake. As he stared off over the dim whiteness of the bars, his senses astretch for a repetition of that weird call, there was a faint splashing in the water close to the sloop. One of the starpools was blotted out in blackness at the instant he turned to look over the rail. The boy's heart seemed to be beating against the roof of his mouth. Thoughts of alligators crossed his mind, for he had heard of them from the pirates who had plied in southern waters. As quietly as he could, he moved to the rail and stood staring over, his eyes bulging into the dark and his breath coming short and fast. For perhaps a minute there was no sight nor sound but the lapping water of the lagoon. Then he became aware of a whiteness drifting close, and heard a familiar voice whispering his name. "Jeremy--Jeremy--it's Job!" said the white blotch. It bumped softly along the side, and at last the boy could see the homely features of his old friend, pale through the gloom. There was a loose rope-end dragging over the side, and Job's hand feeling along the woodwork came in contact with it. "Better not try to come aboard," whispered Jeremy. "They're all on deck here. Can you take us off?" There was silence for an instant as Job felt for a hold in one of the gun ports. Then he raised himself till his head was level with the deck. "Is the other lad there?" he asked. "Ay," replied Jeremy. "He's here but he will have to be wakened." [Illustration: "Don't say a word--sh!--easy there--are you awake?"] "Go to him and take his hand. Begin squeezing soft-like, and press harder till he opens his eyes. Don't startle him," was Job's admonition. The boy did as he was bid. A gentle grip on the Delaware lad's palm brought him to his senses. Jeremy was whispering in a cool, steady undertone, "Bob, that's the lad--wake up, Bob--don't say a word--sh!--easy there--are you awake?" When he was rewarded by a nod of comprehension, he told his comrade of Job's presence and the chance they had to escape. Bob understood in a moment. They returned to the rail and first one, then the other let himself quietly down, holding to the rope. Jeremy slipped into the water last. Luckily they could both swim, though the sloop was so near the beach that swimming was hardly necessary. The tall ex-pirate crawled out upon the sand in the lead and they followed him quickly over a dune and across another creek. They were now far enough away for their flight to be unheard and Job began to run, the boys close behind him. They made a good mile to the south before he allowed his panting runaways to stop for breath. There in the reeds beside a narrow estuary, they came upon a small dinghy, pulled up. The seaman ran the boat into the water, bundled the boys into the bottom astern, and was quickly pulling down stream along the sharp windings of the creek. When they had put three miles of sand and water behind them, Job rested on his oars to catch his breath. His voice came through the hot dark, pantingly. "Lucky you stood up an' came to the rail the way you did, lad," he said. "I didn't know just how I was to reach you. When you came to the side I could see it was a boy, an' knew things was all right. Well--we'd best be gettin' on--no tellin' how soon they may find you're gone." Once more the big Yankee bowed his back to the task in hand and a silence fell, broken only by the faint sound of the muffled oars and the swirl of water along the sides. Not even the thrill of the escape could keep the two tired boys awake, and it was nearly an hour later that they were roused by voices calling at no great distance. A tall black mass on which showed a single moving light rose out of the gloom ahead. The hail was repeated. "Oh, there, Job Howland--boat ahoy! What luck?" "All's well," replied Job, and ran in under the ship's counter. A line was let down and as soon as the skiff was made fast Bob and Jeremy and their deliverer scrambled up to the open port. There was shouting and a moving to and fro of lanterns, as they were ushered into the cabin, and suddenly a tall man, half-clad, burst through the door at the farther end. He had the tattered form of Bob Curtis in his arms in an instant, and great boy though he was, the Delaware lad hugged his father ecstatically and wept. Job and Jeremy, pleased as they were to see this reunion, were hardly comfortable in its presence and made a vain attempt to withdraw gracefully. The merchant was after them before they could reach the door. "Here, Howland," he cried, holding to Bob with one hand and seizing the ex-pirate's arm with the other. "Don't you try to leave yet. Gad, man, this is the happiest hour I've had in years. I owe you so much that it can't be put in figures. And this tall lad is Jeremy that you've told me of. Look at the sunburn on the pair of 'em--pretty desperate characters to have aboard, I'm afraid!" His roar of laughter was joined by the other three, as he showed the way to a couple of roomy berths, built in at the end of the cabin. The two boys were left, after a final boisterous "Good-night," and proceeded to make themselves snug between the linen sheets. Jeremy had never slept in such luxury in his whole life, and moved gingerly for fear of hurting something. At last their exhilaration subsided enough for the rescued lads to go to sleep once more. Jeremy's last thought was a half-mournful one as he wondered how long it must be before he, too, could throw himself against the broad homespun wall of his father's breast. CHAPTER XXI When they woke it was to the regular heave and lurch of a sailing vessel in motion, and Jeremy, looking out the port, beheld the crisp, sparkling blue of open sea. There were two suits of every-day clothes upon the cabin bench and into these the boys climbed, impatient to get out on deck. The ship was the big merchantman, _Indian Queen_, though Bob, used as he was to her appearance, would hardly have known her in her new guise. Long lines of black cannon grimly faced the open ports along either side. The rail had been built up solidly to a height of about six feet, so that the main deck was now a typical gun deck, open overhead. Her regular crew of seasoned mariners was augmented by as many more longshoremen, all good men, picked for their courage and hand-to-hand fighting ability. Job, who acted as second mate and was in full charge of the gun crews, took the boys proudly from one big carronade to another, explaining each improvement which his experience or ingenuity had devised. His chief pride was the long nine-pounder in the bows. She was a swivel gun set on bearings so finely adjusted and well-greased that one man could aim her. Job patted her shiny brass rump lovingly as he looked across the blue swells ahead. He could hardly wait for the hour when he should set a match to her breach. Clarke Curtis joined the group a few minutes later, and they went together to the main cabin. Bob's father, Mr. Ghent, the Captain, and Job Howland settled themselves comfortably over long pipes and glasses of port, and prepared to hear the boys' story. Jeremy, bashful in such fine company, was persuaded to recount his adventures from the time Job had gone over the side till the kidnapped Delaware boy had come aboard. Then Bob took up the tale and told with much spirit of the storm, the trip up the Chesapeake and the subsequent pursuit of the _Francis_ off the Capes. From this point on the two lads told the story together, eagerly interrupting each other to put in some incident forgotten for the moment. When they came to the discovery of Pharaoh Daggs' chart, Job sat up with a jerk. "I always thought he knew!" he exclaimed. "Jeremy, lad, could ye draw me a picture of what 'twas like?" The boy readily consented, and given a piece of paper, proceeded to set down, from his memory of the outline and from the general measurements he had taken, a very fair copy of the original. The ex-buccaneer leaned over him as he drew, and shook his head doubtfully as the work went on. "No," he said when the boy had finished, "I can't recall such a bay just this minute. An' as there was nothin' on it to tell where it might be, I don't know as there's anything for us to do. Like as not it's on some little island as isn't set down, so 'twould be scant use to look over the ship's charts. Still, I'll try it." A half-day of poring over the maps produced no result. There were bays large and small that resembled the one Jeremy had drawn, but none closely enough to warrant the belief that it was the same. "Well," remarked Job as he put away the charts, "Daggs'll never live to reach his bay. He'll swing on Charles Town Dock, an' I mistake not." But in that saying at least the ex-pirate proved himself no prophet. The light wind held and the _Indian Queen_ made reasonable speed down the coast for nearly two days. Then, after drifting under short sail all night, she made in with the dawn, past the small island which nearly a century and a half later was to be the scene of a great war's beginning, crept up against the tide till noon and anchored off the thriving port of Charles Town. Mr. Curtis and Job went ashore in the cutter, as soon as all was snug aboard. On landing they went directly to the Governor's house. Governor Johnson was at home and gladly welcomed the Delaware merchant, who was an old acquaintance of his. When they had been shown into a large room where the official business of the colony was transacted, Mr. Curtis proceeded at once to the point of his visit. He learned that the messenger from Delaware had arrived and his plea for aid had been duly considered. Johnson was troubled at having no better answer for his friend, but said that the treasury of the southern colony had not yet recovered from the strain put upon it four years before at the time of the Indian massacres. He believed that he had no right at this time to spend the public funds in fitting out a fleet, unless it was to avenge an injury done some member of the colony. His honest distress at being unable to assist was so obvious that neither the merchant nor his chief gunner felt like urging their claim for help. Mr. Curtis told of the rescue of the two boys, much to the discomfort of the blushing Job, and they rose to take their departure, feeling no ill will toward the Governor for his inability to help them. As they started to go out of the room, a loud insistent knock was heard. "Come in," said Johnson, and immediately the door was opened to admit a short, well-built gentleman, very much flushed as to the face, and whose eyes fairly shot forth sparks. He was followed by two other men, dressed in rough clothes that seemed to have seen recent hard usage. The leader advanced with rapid steps. "Look'e here, Governor," he said, "those confounded pirates are at us again. Here's two of my men----" "Gently, Colonel Rhett," interrupted the Governor, his eyes twinkling. "Allow me to introduce Mr. Clarke Curtis of Delaware and his friend, Mr. Howland. I believe your business and theirs will fall very easily into one track. Pray be seated, gentlemen." The Colonel shot a keen glance at these new acquaintances and, when the four had taken chairs around the table, began again more calmly to tell his story. A fishing smack, one of a half-dozen open boats belonging to him, had been cruising along the coast to the eastward the week before, and when about forty miles west of Cape Fear had sighted a large black sloop under great spread of sail, bearing down upon her. The two men in the shallop put about and made for shore as fast as they could, using oars and canvas alike, but when they were still half a mile out they saw that the pursuing ship flew a black pirate flag. When, a few moments after, a round shot came dangerously close to their stern, they leaped over the side without more ado and succeeded in swimming ashore, glad to come out of the adventure with whole skins. After a perilous journey of many leagues overland, they had just arrived in Charles Town and reported the affair to Rhett, their employer. "So you see," said the Colonel in conclusion, "we're in for another siege of the kind we had with _Blackbeard_ unless we take some quick action on this." Johnson sat thoughtful for a moment. "Let me put the matter up to you exactly as it now stands," he finally said. "There is a little money in the treasury. But to buy and fit out properly three ships would drain us almost as dry as we were in 1715. Would you have me do that, Rhett?" The Colonel shook his head. "No," he replied, "you must not." Then after looking at the floor for a moment he stood up with quick decision. "See here," he said, "we can get enough volunteers to do this whole business or my name's not William Rhett." Mr. Curtis thrust out a big hand. "My ship _Indian Queen_, twenty-one guns, is in the harbor, ready for sea. She's at your service," he smiled. The Colonel gripped his hand delightedly. "Done," he cried, "and now let's see what other commanders we can recruit. Will you give me a commission, Governor?" And receiving an affirmative reply, he led the way down to the docks. Colonel Rhett was a well-known figure in Charles Town. He owned a large plantation a few miles inland, and conducted a fish warehouse as well. Among tobacco growers, townsmen and sea-captains alike he was widely acquainted and respected as much as any man in the colony. His courage and skill as a soldier were proverbial, for he had been a leader in the suppression of the Indian uprising. Certainly no man in the Carolinas was better fitted for the task which he had in hand. For two days he and his friends from the _Queen_ fairly lived on the wharves, and before sunset of the second he had secured the services of two sloops, the _Henry_, Captain John Masters, and the _Sea Nymph_, Captain Fayrer Hall. Neither ship was equipped for fighting, but by using cannon from the town defences and borrowing some half-dozen pieces from the heavily-armed _Indian Queen_, a complement of eight guns for each sloop was made up. On September 15th the three ships, in war trim and carrying in their combined crews nearly 200 men, crossed the Charles Town bar. Just before they sailed news had come in that the notorious pirate, Charles Vane, had passed to the south with a prize, and Rhett's first course was laid along the coast in that direction. Two or three days of search in the creeks and inlets failed to reveal any sign of the buccaneer, however, and much to the relief of the impatient Mr. Curtis, they put about for Cape Fear on the eighteenth. The progress of the fleet up the coast was slow. Constant rumors of pirates were received, and every hiding place on the shore was examined as they went along. Bob and Jeremy, wild with suppressed excitement, could hardly brook this delay, for, as they warned the officers of the expedition repeatedly, there was every reason to expect that Bonnet would leave the river soon, if he had not gone already. For this reason the _Indian Queen_ went on in advance of the others and patrolled the waters off the headland for four days, until Rhett should come up. On the evening of the twenty-sixth he made his appearance and as there was still light they decided to enter the river-mouth. The tide was just past flood. Rhett's flagship, the _Henry_, nosed in first over the bar and was followed by the _Sea Nymph._ The great, deep-draughted _Queen_ advanced to within a few lengths of the entrance, but the soundings showed that even there she had only a fathom or two to spare, and would certainly come to grief if she adventured further. As it was, even the lighter sloops ran aground fifteen minutes later and were not launched again till nearly dawn. Captain Ghent had anchored the big ship as close in as he dared and she sat bow-on to the channel-mouth. Her two consorts were in plain sight a few hundred yards inside. Rhett came back during the night in a small boat and held a council of war with Curtis, Ghent and Job Howland. He reported that a party of pirates in longboats had come down river during the evening to reconnoitre, but had beat a retreat as soon as they had seen the _Henry's_ guns. It was decided about half the crew of the _Queen_ should be added to the force of men on the two sloops, while the big vessel herself was forced to be content with standing guard off the entrance. This was a bitter blow not only to Mr. Curtis, but to Job and the boys, who had looked forward to the battle with zest. Bob and Jeremy had been ordered to bed about midnight, but they rose before light, in their excitement, and sunrise found them in the bows with Job, watching the long point of sand behind which they knew the pirates lay. Preparations had been made aboard the _Henry_ and _Sea Nymph_ for an immediate advance up the river. Hardly had the first slant beams of sunlight struck upon Rhett's deck before the crew were lustily pulling at the main halyards and winding in the anchor chain. But even before the two Carolina sloops were under way there was an excited chorus of "Here he comes!" and above the dune at the bend of the river, appeared the headsails of the _Royal James_. Bonnet had weighed his chances and decided for a running fight. The pirate ship cleared the point, nearly a mile away, and came flying down, every inch of canvas drawing in the stiff offshore breeze. It seemed for a moment as if she might get safely past the Carolinians and out to sea, with the _Queen_ as her only antagonist. Probably Bonnet had counted on the unexpectedness of his maneuver to accomplish this result. But if so, he had left out of his reckoning the character of William Rhett. That gentleman hesitated not an instant, but headed upstream directly toward the enemy. Fortunately, he had two good skippers in Masters and Hall, for the good Colonel himself knew little of sailing. Thanks to these lieutenants, the two attacking sloops were let off the wind at exactly the right time, and filled away down the river close together off the pirate's starboard bow. Bonnet raced up abeam, firing broadsides as fast as his men could load, and his cannonade was answered in kind from the _Henry_. She and the _Sea Nymph_ began to veer over to port, forcing the black sloop closer and closer to shore, but the buccaneer Captain refused to take in an inch of sail. His course was all but justified. The speedy craft which he commanded gained on her foes hand over hand till, when only a few hundred yards from the narrow mouth of the estuary, she led them both by her own length. From the deck of the _Queen_ Jeremy and Bob could pick out the big form of Herriot at the tiller. Just as the _Royal James_ passed into the lead, they saw him swing mightily on the long steering-beam while at the same instant the main sheet was hauled in. It was prettily done. The pirate went hard over to starboard, kicking up a wave of spray as she slewed. She sprang away from under the bows of the _Henry_ with only inches to spare, for the bowsprit of Rhett's sloop tore the edge of her mainsail in passing. The fierce cheer that rose from the deck of the black buccaneer was drowned in a jarring crash. She had eluded her foe only to run, ten seconds later, upon a submerged sand bar. It was now the Carolinians' turn to cheer, though it soon appeared that they might better have saved their breath for other purposes. The _Henry_, unable to check her speed, ran straight ahead, and hardly a minute after her enemy's mishap was hard aground twenty yards away. Both sloops lay careened to starboard, so that the whole deck of the _Henry_ offered a fair target for Bonnet's musketry, while the _Royal James's_ port side was thrown up, a stout defence against the small-arm fire of Rhett's men. Owing to the slant of their decks it was impossible to train the cannon of either ship. The _Sea Nymph_, meanwhile, in an effort to cut off the course of the pirate, had put over straight for the channel mouth, and before she could come about her bows also were fast in the sand, and she lay stern toward the other two, but out of musket-shot, unable to take a hand in the hot fight that followed. Had either the _Henry's_ crew or the buccaneers been able to send a proper broadside from their position, it seems that they must surely have blown their foe out of water, though we need, of course, to make allowance for the comparative feebleness of their ordnance in contrast to that of the present day. The stranding of the three vessels had occupied so short a time that the little group of witnesses high up in the bow of the _Indian Queen_ had not yet exchanged a word. Clinging to the rail, open-mouthed, they had seen the pirate make her bold dash across the bows of her pursuers, only to strike the bar in her instant of triumph, then following with the quickness of events in a dream, the grounding first of the _Henry_, afterwards of the _Nymph_. Nor was there an appreciable pause in the spectacle, for the pirates, who had been shooting steadily during the race down river, wasted no time in trying to get off the bar, but raked their nearby adversaries' deck with a withering fire. Rhett's crew tumbled into the scuppers, where they were under the partial cover of the bulwark, but many were killed, even before they could reach this shelter, and living and dead rolled down together, as in a ghastly comedy. CHAPTER XXII The boys, intent upon this awful scene, turned as a shout from Job Howland swelled above the uproar. The big gunner was at the breach of his swivel-gun, ramrod in hand. The little group scattered to one side or the other, leaving an open space at the bow rail. At the same moment Job put in his powder, a heavy charge, ramming it home quickly, but with all care. On top of the wadding went the round-shot, which was in its turn hammered down under the powerful strokes of the ramrod. Maneuvering the well-balanced breech with both hands, the tall Yankee trained his cannon upon the pirate sloop; allowed for distance, raising the muzzle an inch or more; nosed the wind and glanced at the foremast pennons; then swung his piece a fraction of an inch to windward. At last with a shout of "'Ware fire!" he sprang back and laid his match to the touch-hole. There was a spurt of flame as the long nine roared above the staccato bark of the musketry. Then they saw a section of the pirate's upper rail leap clear of her deck and fall overside. "Too high," said Job shortly, though Ghent and Curtis had cheered at the shot, for the distance was a good half-mile. Job worked feverishly at his reloading, helped by others of the _Queen's_ gun crews. Again the charge was a stout one, but this time the gunner laid his muzzle pointblank at the top of the rail, allowing only for wind. Once more he fired. Just short of the _Royal James_ went up a little tower of spray. Job said not a word, but set his great angular jaws and went about his work with all the speed he had. "Look," said Jeremy to Bob, in a sudden burst of understanding, "the tide's rising. See how it runs in past our bows. In another five minutes one of those boats will be afloat. Watch how the _James_ rocks up and down already! If she gets off first, it'll go hard with Rhett, for Bonnet'll let off a broadside as soon as his guns are level. That's why Job's trying so hard to put a hole in her." Almost as he spoke the report of the third shot rolled out. The buccaneer sloop jumped sharply, like a spurred horse. In her side, just at the water line, a black streak had suddenly appeared. The waves of the incoming tide no longer swayed her buoyantly, for she wallowed on the bar like a log. The effect of the shot, though it could be seen from the _Sea Nymph_, where it was greeted with cheers, was still unknown aboard the _Henry_. In the wash of water as the tide rolled in, Rhett's sloop stood almost on an even keel. The remnant of his crew appeared to have taken heart, for a brisk fire now answered that of the buccaneers. Suddenly a triumphant shouting began aboard the stranded flagship, soon answered in increasing volume from her two consorts. The _Henry_ was moving slowly off the bar. On the black sloop there was a silence as of death. Stede Bonnet, late gentleman of the island of Barbadoes, honorably discharged as major from the army of his Majesty, since turned sea-rover for no apparent cause, and now one of the most notorious plunderers of the coast, faced his last fight. Outnumbered nearly ten to one, his ship a stranded hulk, his cannon useless, surely he read his doom. His men read it and turned sullenly to haul down the tattered rag of black that still hung from the masthead. But a last blaze of the old mad courage flared up in the Captain, as he faced them, dishevelled and bloody, from behind cocked pistols. Above the tumult of the fusillade his voice, usually so clear, rose hoarse with anger. "I'll scatter the deck with the brains of any man who will not fight to the end!" he cried. For a second the issue was in doubt. In another instant the iron spell he held over his men must have won them back. Herriot was already running to his side. But before he reached his chief a louder cheer from the attacking sloops made him turn. The black "Roger" fluttered downward to the deck. One of the captive sailors from the _Francis_, fearing to be taken for a pirate if it came to deck-fighting, had crept up behind the mast and cut the flag halyards. The men's hearts fell with the falling ensign and they stood irresolute while the _Henry_ went up alongside. There was now water enough for her to come close aboard and when she stood at a boat's length distant, Colonel Rhett appeared at the rail. He pointed to the muzzles of four loaded cannon aboard his sloop and told Bonnet that he would proceed to blow him into the air if he did not surrender in one minute's time. There was little parley. The pirate captain's flare of resistance had burned out and pale and strangely shaken he handed over his sword and submitted to the disarming of his men. It was now well along in the morning. The prisoners whom Rhett had taken were rowed out in small boats across the bar and put aboard the _Indian Queen_. One by one they were hauled over the side and placed below in chains. Job, Jeremy and Bob stood at a little distance and counted those who had been captured. Now and then they were greeted by an ugly look and a curse as some old shipmate recognized them. Last of all, Major Bonnet passed, haggard and unkempt, his head bowed in shame. "Thirty-five in all," finished Job. "Guess our old and handsome friend, Pharaoh Daggs must have got his gruel in that fight. Well, if ever man deserved to die a violent death, it's him. I'd like to make sure, though. Want to go over to the _James_ with me?" Both boys welcomed the opportunity and as the longboat was just then starting back, they were soon aboard the battered pirate, so recently their home. Three or four dead men lay on the canted deck, for no effort had been made as yet to clean the ship. Bob and Jeremy had no stomach for looking at the corpses of their erstwhile companions and turned rather to explore the cabin and fo'c's'le, leaving Job to hunt for the body of their old enemy. In the long bunkroom some water had entered with the rising tide and they found the lower side a miniature lake. In the semi-darkness, seamen's chests floated past like houses in a flood. One of the big boxes was open, half its contents trailing after it. Something familiar about the brass-bound cover and the blue cloth that hung over the side made Jeremy start. "Daggs' chest!" he exclaimed and reached forward, pulling it up on the dry planking. The two boys delved into the damp rubbish it held. There were a few clothes, a rusty pistol, an able seaman's certificate crumpled and torn almost beyond recognition. The sack of money and the chart were gone. After searching in dark corners of the fo'c's'le and fishing in the pool of leakage without discovering what they sought, the boys returned to the box. "Odd," said Jeremy at length. "Every other chest is locked fast. Why should he have opened his?" This seemed unanswerable. They returned to the deck, to find Job peering into the green water overside. "The body's not here," said the big seaman, "unless he fell over the rail or was thrown over. I'm looking to see if it's down there." The sand shone clean and white through the shallow water on every side. No trace of the buccaneer was to be seen. Jeremy told of finding the open chest. "Hm," mused Job, "looks like he'd got away, though he may be dead; I'd like to know for sure. Still," he added, his face clearing, "chances are we'll never see nor hear of him again." And putting the man with the broken nose out of their thoughts, they rejoined their friends on the big merchantman. Just before nightfall the Carolina sloops, which had made an expedition up the river, returned with Bonnet's two prizes in tow. They had been abandoned in the effort to escape, and Rhett had launched them without difficulty. A great sound of hammering filled the air above the desert lagoon for two days. The old _Revenge_, now so rechristened since she had fallen into honest hands, had to be floated, for there was still service in her shattered black hull. A hundred men toiled on and around her, and in a remarkably short time a jury patch was made in her gaping side and her hold pumped dry. Then crews were picked to man the three captured sloops, and the flotilla was ready to return triumphant. On the morning when they stood out to sea, the twelve men of Rhett's party who had been killed in action were buried with military honors, saluted by the cannon of the fleet. A voyage of three days, unmarred by any accident, brought the victorious squadron into Charles Town harbor. Joy knew no bounds among the merchants and seamen along the docks. Indeed, the rejoicing spread through the town to the tune of church bells and the whole colony was soon made aware of Rhett's victory. When the buccaneers had been taken ashore under a heavy guard and locked up in the public watchhouse, Mr. Curtis and Bob, with Job and Jeremy, went ashore to stretch their legs. It was a fine, fall day, warm as midsummer to Jeremy's way of thinking. The docks were fascinatingly full of merchandise. Great hogsheads of molasses and rum from Jamaica, set ashore from newly arrived ships, shouldered for room with baled cotton and boxes of tobacco ready to be loaded. There was a smell of spices and hot tar where the sun beat down on the white decks and tall spars of the shipping. Negroes, hitherto almost unknown to the Yankee boy, handled bales and barrels on the wharves, their gleaming black bodies naked to the waist. Planters from the fertile country behind the town rode in with their attendant black boys, and gathered at the coffee-houses on King Charles Street. It was to one of these, the "Scarlet Fish," that the bluff Delaware man took his protégés for dinner. The place was resplendent with polished deal and shining pewter. Curtains of brightly colored stuff hung at the high square windows, and on the side where the sun entered, pots of flowers stood in the broad window-shelves. There were gay groups of men at the tables, and talk of the pirates was going everywhere over the Madeira and chocolate. It seemed the news of Job's gunnery had been spread by Rhett's men, for some of the diners recognized and pointed to him. A pretty barmaid, with dimples in her elbows, curtsied low as she set down his cup. "Oh, yes, Captain Howland!" she answered as he gave his order, blushed a deep pink and ran to the kitchen. Whereupon Job, quite overcome, vowed that the ladies of Carolina were the fairest in the world, and Mr. Curtis roared heartily, saying that "Captain Howland" it should be, and that before many months, if he knew a good seadog. As they sat and sipped their coffee after a meal that reflected glory upon the cook of the "Scarlet Fish," Colonel Rhett came in and made his way to their table through a hurly-burly of back-slappings and "Bravos." As soon as he was able to sit down in peace, he drew Mr. Curtis a little aside to talk in private. The two boys were content to watch the changing scene and listen to the hearty badinage of the fashionable young blades about the tables. It was, you must remember, Jeremy's first experience of luxury, unless the good, clean quarters and wholesome meals aboard the _Queen_ could be so called. He had never read any book except the Bible, had never seen more than a half-dozen pictures in his life. From these and from the conversation of backwoodsmen and, more recently, of pirates, he had been forced to form all his conceptions of the world outside of his own experience. It is a tribute to his clean traditions and sturdy self-reliance that he sat unabashed, pleased with the color, the gayety, the richness, but able still to distinguish the fine things from the sham, the honest things from those which only appeared honest--to feel a thrill of pride in his father's hard, rough-hewn life and his own. Colonel Rhett's conference with Mr. Curtis being over, the score was paid and the party took their triumphal way to the door, Job turning his sunburned face once or twice to glance regretfully after the dimpled barmaid. That afternoon they were taken to the Governor's house, where Job and each of the boys told the story of their experiences in Bonnet's company. These stories were sworn to as affidavits and kept for use in the coming trial of the pirate crew. It was a special dispensation of the Governor's which allowed them to give their evidence in this form instead of waiting in Charles Town for the court to sit, and needless to say they were heartily glad of it. The formalities over, Governor Johnson led the party into the adjoining room. He motioned them to sit down and faced them with a smile. "Now, my lads," said he, "the spoil taken on the _Royal James_ has been divided, and though, as you may guess, it had to go a long way, there's a share left for each of you." Jeremy and Bob stared at each other and at their friends. The benign smiles of Mr. Curtis, Colonel Rhett and Job showed that they had known beforehand of this surprise. The Governor was holding out a small leather sack in each hand. "Here, catch," he laughed, and the two astonished lads automatically did as they were bid. In each purse there was something over twenty guineas in gold. Before they had found words to thank the Governor he laughed again merrily. "Never mind a speech of acceptance," said he. "Colonel Rhett, here, has something else for you." "Yes," replied the Colonel. "You see, there was a deal of junk in the Captain's cabin that comes to me as Admiral of the expedition. I'd be much pleased if you two lads would each pick out anything that pleases you, as a personal gift from myself and Stede Bonnet." As he spoke, he took the cloth cover from a table which stood at one side. On it the boys saw a shining array of small arms, some glass and silver decanters and a pile of books. The Colonel motioned Bob forward. "Here you are, lad, take your choice," he said. Bob stepped to the table and glanced over the weapons eagerly. He finally selected a silver-mounted pistol with the great pirate's name engraved on the butt, and went with pride to show it to his father. It was Jeremy's turn. He had no hesitation. From the moment he had heard the offer his shining eyes had been fastened upon one object, and now he went straight to the table and picked up the biggest and thickest of the heap of books, a great leather-bound volume--Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress." It is not the least inexplicable fact in the career of the terrible Stede Bonnet that he was a constant reader of such books as this and the "Paradise Lost" of Milton. Bunyan's great allegory had come at last into a place where it could do more good than in the cabin bookshelf of a ten-gun buccaneer. Jeremy, poor lad, uneducated save for the rude lessons of his father and the training of the open, had longed for books ever since he could remember. He had affected a gruff scorn when Bob had spoken from his well-schooled knowledge, but inwardly it had been his sole ground for jealousy of the Delaware boy. That ponderous leather book was read many times and thoroughly in after years, and it became the foundation of such a library as was not often met with in the colonies. Job gave the lad an understanding smile and a pat on the back, for Jeremy had told him of his passion for an education. The four grown men drank each other's health and separated with many hearty handclasps. An hour later the _Queen's_ anchor was up and she was moving out to sea upon the tide, cheered vigorously from the docks and saluted by every vessel she passed. The warm September dusk settled over the ocean. A soft land breeze rustled in the shrouds, and the great sails filled with a gentle flapping. Slowly the tall ship bowed herself to the northeast and settled away on her course contentedly, while the water ran with a smooth murmur beneath her forefoot. Jeremy, lying wide-eyed in his bunk, where a single star shone through the open port, thought it the sweetest sound he had ever heard. He was homeward bound at last. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXIII There were brave days aboard the _Queen_ as she voyaged up the coast--days of sun and light winds when the boys sat lazily in the blue shadow of the sails, looking off through half-closed eyes toward the faint line of shore that appeared and disappeared to leeward; or listened to Job's long tales of adventure up and down the high seas; or fished with hand-lines over the taffrail, happy if they pulled up even a goggle-eyed flounder. Twice they ran into fog, and on those days, when the wet dripped dismally off the shrouds and the watch on deck sang mournful airs in the gray gloom, the two lads settled into big chairs in the cabin, beneath a mighty brass oil-lamp, and while Bob sat bemused over Captain Dampier's Voyages, Jeremy fought Apollyon with that good knight Christian, in "Pilgrim's Progress." But best of all were the days of howling fair weather, when sky and sea were deep blue and the wind boomed over out of the west, and the scattered flecks of white cloud raced with the flying spray below. Then all hands would stand by to slack a sheet here or reef a sail there, and Ghent, who was a bold sailor, would take the kicking tiller with Job's help, and keep the big ship on her course, the last possible foot of canvas straining at the yardarms. High along the weather rail, with the wind screaming in their ears or down in the lee scuppers where the white-shot green passed close below with a roar and a rush, the boys would cling, yelling aloud their exultation. It was more than the risk, more than the dizzy movement that made them happy. With every hour of that strong wind they were ten knots farther north. So they sailed; and one morning when the mist cleared, Mr. Curtis led both boys to the port rail to show them where the green head of Cape Henlopen stood, abeam. There was moisture in the corners of his eyes as he pointed to it. "Thank God, Bob, my lad, you're here to see the Delaware again!" he said huskily. Up the blue bay they cruised in the fine October weather and came in due time--a very long time it seemed to some aboard--to the roadstead opposite New Castle port. There was a boat over almost before the anchor was dropped and a picked crew rowed the Curtises, Job and Jeremy ashore as fast as they dared without breaking oars. They drew up across the swirling tidewater to the foot of a long pier. It was black with people who cheered continually, and somewhere above the town a cannon was fired in salute, but all Bob saw was a slender figure in white at the pier-edge and all he heard was a woman's happy crying. A message to his mother telling of his safety had been sent from Charles Town three weeks before, and there she was to welcome him. There was a ladder further in along the pier, but before they reached it some one had thrown a rope and Bob swarmed up hand over hand. Jeremy, stricken with a sudden shyness, watched the happy, tearful scene that followed from the boat below. Women had had small part in his own life. Since his mother's death he had known a few in the frontier settlements, and they had been good to him in a friendly way, but this ecstatic mother-love was new and it made him feel awkward and lonely. It seemed that all Delaware colony must be at the waterfront. Every soul in the little town and men from miles around had turned out to welcome the returning vessel, for the news of Bonnet's defeat had been brought in, days before, by a Carolina coaster. There was bunting over doorways and cheering in the streets as the Governor's coach with the party of honor drove up the main thoroughfare to the Curtis house. When they were within and the laughing crowds had dispersed, Bob's mother came to Jeremy, put her hands on his shoulders and looked long into his face. She was a frail slip of a woman, dark like her son, with a sensitive mouth and big, black eyes full of courage. Jeremy flushed a slow scarlet under her gaze, but his eyes never flinched as he returned it. "A fine boy," she said, at length, "and my own boy's good friend!" Then she smiled tenderly and kissed him on the forehead. Jeremy was then and there won over. All women were angels of light to him from that moment. That night, alone in the white wilderness of his first four-poster, the poor New England boy missed his mother very hard, more perhaps than he had ever missed her before. He fell asleep on a pillow that was wet in spots--and he was not ashamed. In the days that followed nothing in Delaware Colony was too good for the young heroes. Jeremy could never understand just _why_ they were heroes, but was forced to give up trying to explain the matter to an admiring populace. As for Bob, he gleefully accepted all the glory that was offered and at last persuaded Jeremy to take the affair as philosophically as himself. They were in a fair way to be spoiled, but fortunately there was enough sense of humor between them to bring them off safe from the head-patting gentlemen and tearfully rapturous ladies who gathered at the brick house of afternoons. Perhaps the thing that really saved them from the effects of too much petting was the trip up the Brandywine to the Curtis plantation. It was a fine ride of thirty miles and the trail led through woods just turning red and yellow with the autumn frosts. Jeremy, though he had been on a horse only half a dozen times in his life, was a natural athlete and without fear. He was quick to learn and imitated Bob's erect carriage and easy seat so well that long before they had reached their journey's end he backed his tall roan like an old-timer. With Job it was a different matter. He was all sailor, and though the times demanded that every man who travelled cross-country must do it in the saddle, the lank New Englander would have ridden a gale any day in preference to a steed. Even Jeremy could afford to laugh at the sorry figure his big friend made. The trail they followed was no more than a rough cutting, eight or ten feet wide, running through the forest. Here and there paths branched off to right or left and up one of these Bob turned at noon. It led them over a wooded hill, then down a long slope into the valley of a stream. "John Cantwell's plantation. We'll stop here for a bite to eat," explained the boy. By the water side, in a wide clearing, was a group of log huts and farther along, a square house built of rough gray stone. They rode up to the wide door which looked down upon the river. In answer to Bob's hail a colored boy in a red jacket ran out to take the horses' heads and four black and white fox terriers tore round the corner barking a chorus of welcome. Bob jumped down with a laughing, "Ah there, Rufus!" to the horse-boy, and proceeded to roll the excited little dogs on their backs. As Jeremy and Job dismounted, a big man in sober gray came to the doorway. His strong, kindly face broke into a smile as he caught sight of his visitors. "Well, Bob, I'm mightily glad to see thee back, lad! We got news from the town only yesterday." He strode down the steps and took the boy's hand in a hearty grip, then greeted the others, as Bob introduced them. Jeremy marvelled much at the cut of the man's coat, which was without a collar, and at his continual use of the plain _thee_ and _thy_. But there was a direct simplicity about all his ways, and a gentleness in his eyes that won the boy to him instantly. One moment only he wandered at John Cantwell. In the next he had forgotten everything about him and stood open-mouthed, gazing at the square doorway. In the sun-lit frame of it had appeared a little girl of twelve. She was dressed demurely in gray, set off with a bit of white kerchief. Her long skirt hid her toes and her hands were folded most properly. But above this sober stalk bloomed the fairest face that Jeremy had ever seen. She had merry hazel eyes, a straight little nose and a firm little chin. Her plain bonnet had fallen back from her head and the brown curls that strayed recklessly about her cheeks seemed to catch all the sunbeams in Delaware. For a very little time she stood, and then the pursed red mouth could be controlled no longer. She opened it in a whoop of joy and catching up her skirts ran to smother Bob in a great hug. Next moment Jeremy, still in a daze, was bowing over her hand, as he had learned to do at New Castle. She dropped him a little curtsey and turned to meet Job. Betty Cantwell and her father were Quakers from the Penn Colony to the north, Bob had time to tell Jeremy as they entered. That accounted for the staid simplicity of their dress and their quaint form of speech--the plain language, as it was called. Jeremy had heard of the Quakers, though in New England they were much persecuted for their beliefs by the Puritans. Here, apparently, people not only allowed them to live, but liked and honored them as well. He prayed fervently that Betty might never chance to visit Boston town. Yet already he half hoped that she would. Of course, he would have grown bigger by then, and would carry a sword and how he would prick the thin legs of the first grim deacon who dared so much as to speak to her! These imaginings were put to rout at the dining-room door by the delicious savor of roast turkey. One of the black farmhands had shot the great bird the day before, and the three travellers had arrived just at the fortunate moment when it was to be carved. It was a dinner never to be forgotten. The twenty miles they had ridden through the crisp air would have given them an appetite, even had they not been normally good trenchermen, and there were fine white potatoes and yams that accompanied the turkey, not to mention some jelly which Betty admitted having made herself, "with cook's help." Bob joyfully attacked his heaped-up plate and ate with relish every minute that he was not talking. Jeremy could say not a word, for opposite him was Betty and in her presence he felt very large and awkward. His hands troubled him. Indeed, had it been a possibility, he would have eaten his turkey without raising them above the table edge. As it was, he felt himself blush every time a vast red fist came in evidence. Yet he succeeded in making a good meal and would not have been elsewhere for all Solomon Brig's gold. Perhaps Job, who was neither talkative nor under the spell of a lady's eyes, wielded the best knife and fork of the three. Dinner over, and Bob's story finished, they were taken to see the stable and the broad tilled fields by the river bank, where corn stood shocked among the stubble. Afternoon came and soon it was time for them to start. There were laughing farewells and a promise that they would stop on the return trip, and before Jeremy could come back to earth the gloom of the forest shut in above their heads once more. They put the horses to a canter as soon as the ridge was cleared, for there were still ten miles to go and the light was waning. Jeremy was very much at home in the woods, but the chill, sombre depths that appeared and reappeared on either hand seemed to warn him to be prepared. He reached to the saddlebow, undid the flap of the pistol holster, and made sure that his weapon was loaded, then put it back, reassured. The footing was bad, and they had to go more slowly for a while. Then Bob, in the lead, came to a more open space where light and ground alike favored better speed. He spurred his horse to a gallop and had turned to call to the others, when suddenly the animal he rode gave a snort of fear and stopped with braced forefeet. Bob, caught off his guard, went over the horse's head with a lurch and fell sprawling on the ground in front. Then he gave a scream, for not two feet away he saw the short, cruel head of a coiled rattlesnake. Jeremy, riding close behind, pulled up beside the other horse and threw himself off. Even as he touched the ground a sharp whirr met his ear and he saw the fat, still body and vibrating tail of the snake. He wrenched the pistol from the holster, took the quickest aim of his life and pulled the trigger. After the shot apparently nothing had changed. The whirr of the rattle went on for a second or two, then gradually subsided. Bob lay white-faced, and still as death. Jeremy drew a step closer and then gave a choked cry of relief. The snake's smooth, diamond-marked body remained coiled for the spring. Its lithe forepart was thrust forward from the top coil and the venemous, blunt head--but the head was no more. Jeremy's ball had taken it short off. Bob was unhurt, but badly shaken and frightened, and they followed the trail slowly through the dusk. Then just as the shadows that obscured their way were turning to the deep dark of night a small light became visible straight ahead. They pushed on and soon were luxuriously stretched before a log fire in the Curtis plantation house, while Mrs. Robbins, the overseer's wife, poured them a cup of hot tea. When bedtime came, Bob came over to Jeremy and gave him a long grip of the hand, but said never a word. There was no need of words, for the New England boy knew that his chum would never be quite happy till he could repay his act in kind. Yet he could not tell Bob that the shooting of a snake was but a small return for the gift of a vision of one of heaven's angels. Each felt himself the other's debtor as they got into the great feather bed side by side. CHAPTER XXIV Two boys turned loose on a present-day farm can find enough interesting things to do to fill a book much larger than this. For me to go into the details of that week's visit to Avon Dale would preclude any possible chance of your hearing the end of this story. And there are still many things that need telling. But though no great or grave adventure befell the two boys while they stayed at the plantation, you may imagine the days they spent together. Back of the farm buildings lay the fields, all up and down the river bank for miles. And back of the fields, crowding close to the edge of the plowed ground, the big trees of an age-old forest rose. The great wild woods ran straight back from the plantation for five hundred miles, broken only by rivers and the steep slopes of the Alleghanies, as yet hardly heard of by white men. Giant oaks, ashes and tulip trees mingled with the pine and hemlock growth. The hillsides where the sun shone through were thick with rhododendron and laurel. And all through this sylvan paradise the upper branches and the underbrush teemed with wild life. Squirrels, partridges and occasional turkeys offered frequent marks for the long muzzle-loading rifles, while a thousand little song birds flitted constantly through the leaves. Jeremy had never seen such hunting in his colder northern country. The game was bigger and more dangerous in New England, but never had he found it so plentiful. As the boys were both good marksmen, a great rivalry sprang up between them. They scorned any but the hardest shots--the bright eye of a squirrel above a hickory limb fifty yards off or the downy form of a wood pigeon preening in a tree top. Though a good deal of powder and lead was spent in the process, they were shooting like old leather-stocking hunters by the end of the week. The last two days had to be spent indoors, for a heavy autumn rain that came one night held over persistently and drenched the valley with a sullen, steady pour. Little muddy rivulets swept down across the fields and joined the already swollen current of the Brandywine. On the morning when they started back, the river was running high and fast and yellow along the low banks, but a bright sun shone, and a fresh breeze out of the west promised fair weather. The horses were left at the plantation. They took their guns and a day's provisions and carried a long, narrow-beamed canoe down to the shore. It was a dugout, quite unlike the graceful birch affairs that Jeremy had seen among the Penobscots, but serviceable and seaworthy enough. Job, happy to be on the water once more, took the stern paddle, Bob knelt in the bow, and Jeremy squatted amidships with the blankets and guns. With a cry of farewell to the kindly folk on the bank, they shoved out and shot away down the swift river. It was exciting work. The stream had overflowed its banks for many yards and the brown water swirled in eddies among the trees. To keep the canoe in the main channel required judgment and good steering. Job proved equal to the occasion and though with their paddling the swiftness of the current gave the craft a speed of over ten miles an hour, he brought her down without mishap into a wide-spreading cove. They rested, drifting slowly across the slack water. "This can't be far from Cantwell's," Bob was saying, when Jeremy gave a startled exclamation, and pointed toward the shore, some fifty yards away. A little girl in a gray frock stood on the bank, her arms full of golden rod and asters. She had not seen the canoe, for she was looking behind her up the bank. At that instant there was a crashing in the brush and a big buck deer stepped out upon the shore, tossing his gleaming antlers to which a few shreds of summer "velvet" still clung. He was not twenty feet from the girl, who faced him, perfectly still, the flowers dropping one by one from her apron. It was the rutting season and the buck was in a fighting mood. But he was puzzled by this small motionless antagonist. He hesitated a bare second before launching his wicked charge. Then as he bellowed his defiance there came a loud report. The buck's haunches wavered, then straightened with a jerk, as he made a great leap up the bank and fell dead. From Jeremy's long-barrelled gun a wisp of smoke floated away. Betty Cantwell sat down very suddenly and seemed about to cry, but as the canoe shot up to the shore she was smiling once more. They took her aboard and started down stream again. A few hundred yards brought them to the edge of the Cantwell clearing, where Bob hailed the negroes working in the field and gave them orders for bringing down the dead buck. At the landing John Cantwell was waiting in some anxiety, for the sound of Jeremy's shot had reached him at the house. Bob told the story, somewhat to Jeremy's embarrassment, for nothing was spared in the telling. The Quaker thanked him with great earnestness and reproved his daughter gently for straying beyond the plantation. After another of those famous dinners Job and the boys returned to their craft, for there were many miles to make before night. As Jeremy took up the bow paddle he waved to Betty on the bank, and thrilled with happiness at the shy smile she gave him. Once again they were in the current, shooting downstream toward tidewater. It was mid-afternoon when they crossed the Brandywine bar and paddled past the docks of Wilmington. Outside in the Delaware there was a choppy sea that made their progress slower, and the sun had set when the slim little craft ran in for the beach above New Castle. The voyagers shouldered their packs and made their way up the High Street to the brick house. When the greetings were over and the boys were changing their clothes before coming down for supper, Clarke Curtis entered their room. "Lads," he said, "I'd advise you to go early to bed tonight. You'll need a long rest, for in the morning you start overland for New York." At Bob's exclamation of surprise he went on to explain that the _Indian Queen_ had weighed anchor two days before for that port, and as there was no other ship leaving the Delaware soon, he wished the boys to board her at New York for the voyage to New England. Both youngsters were overjoyed at the prospect of an early start. Bob, who had been promised that he could accompany his chum, was hilarious over the news, while Jeremy was too happy to speak. Later, as they were packing their belongings for the trip, Job Howland came in. He, too, looked excited. "Jeremy, boy," he said, "I'd have liked to go north with you, but something else has come my way. Mr. Curtis bought a new schooner, the _Tiger_, last week, and she's being fitted out now for a coast trader. He offered me the chance to command her!" "Three cheers!" shouted Bob. "Then New Castle will be your home port, and I'll see you after every voyage!" The three comrades chatted of their prospects a while and shortly went to bed. CHAPTER XXV The boys and their luggage were on their way to Wilmington in the family chaise before dawn, and it was scarce seven o'clock when they bade farewell to the old colored serving-man and clambered aboard the four-horse coach that connected in Philadelphia with the mail coach for New York. The coaches of that day were cumbersome affairs, huge of wheel, and with ridiculously small bodies slung on wide strips of bull's hide which served for springs. The driver's box was high above the forward running gear. There were as yet no "seats on top," such as were developed in the later days of fast stage-coach service. In one of these rumbling, swaying conveyances the boys rode the thirty miles to Philadelphia, crossing the Schuylkill at Gray's Ferry about noon. They had barely time for a bite of lunch in the White Horse Tavern before the horn was blown outside and they hurried to take their places in the north-bound coach. Along the cobbled streets of the bustling, red-brick town they rumbled for a few moments, then out upon the smooth dirt surface of the York Road, where the four good horses were put to a gallop. The Delaware, opposite Trenton, was reached by six o'clock, and there the half-dozen passengers left the coach and were carried across on a little ferry boat, rowed by an old man and his two sons. They spent the night at an Inn and next morning early boarded another coach bound northeast over the sparsely settled hills of New Jersey. The road was narrow and bad in places, slackening their speed. Twice the horses were changed, in little hamlets along the way. In the late afternoon they crossed the marshy flats beyond Newark and just after dusk emerged on the Jersey side of the Hudson. A few lights glimmered from the low Manhattan shore. The quaint Dutch-English village which was destined to grow in two hundred years to be the greatest city in the world, lay quiet in the gathering dark. The ferry was just pulling out from shore, but at the sound of the coach horn it swung back into its slip and waited for the passengers to board. A gruff Hollander by the name of Peter Houter was the ferryman. He stood at the clumsy steering-beam, while four stout rowers manned the oars of his wide, flat-bottomed craft. Approaching the steersman, Bob asked where in the town he would be likely to find the Captain of a merchantman then taking cargo in the port. The Dutchman named two taverns at which visiting seafaring men could commonly be found. One was the "Three Whales" and the other the "Bull and Fish." Landing on the Manhattan shore, the boys shouldered their luggage and trudged by ill-lighted lanes across the island to the East River. As they advanced along the dock-side, Jeremy distinguished among the low-roofed houses a small inn before which a great sign swung in the wind. By the light which flickered through the windows they could make out three dark monsters painted upon the board, a white tree apparently growing from the head of each. "The Three Whales," laughed Jeremy, "and every one a-blowing! Let's go in!" It was an ill-smelling and dingy room that they entered. A score of men in rough sailor clothes lounged at the tables or lolled at the bar. Two pierced tin lanterns shed a faint smoky light over the scene. Bob waited by their baggage at the door, while Jeremy made his way from one group to another, inquiring for Captain Ghent of the _Indian Queen_. Several of the mariners nodded at mention of the ship, but none could give him word of the skipper's whereabouts. As he was turning to go out he noticed a man drinking alone at a table in the darkest corner. His eyes were fixed moodily on his glass and he did not look up. Jeremy shivered, took a step nearer, and almost cried out, for he had caught a glimpse of a livid, diagonal scar cutting across the nose from eyebrow to chin. It was such a scar as could belong to only one man on earth. Jeremy retreated to a darker part of the room and watched till the man lifted his head. It was Pharaoh Daggs and none other. A moment later the boy had hurried to Bob outside and told him his news. "If we can find Ghent," said Bob, "he will be able to summon soldiers and have him placed under arrest." They hastened along the river front for a hundred yards or more and came to the "Bull and Fish." A man in a blue cloth coat was standing by the door, looking up and down the street. He gave a hail of greeting as they came up. It was Captain Ghent. "I was just going down to the "Three Whales" thinking you might have stopped there," he said. Bob told him their news and the skipper's face grew grave. "Better leave the bags here for the present," he suggested and then, after a moment's quiet talk with the landlord, he led the way toward the other tavern. On the way he stopped a red-jacketed soldier who was patrolling the dock. After a word or two had been exchanged the soldier fell in beside them, and just as they reached the inn door two more hurried up. "Come in with me, Jeremy, and point out the man," said Captain Ghent. The lad's heart beat like a triphammer as he entered the tavern once more. A silence fell on the room when the three soldiers were observed. Jeremy crossed toward the dark corner. The table was empty. He looked quickly about at the faces of the drinkers, but Daggs was not there. "He's gone," he said in a disappointed voice. The innkeeper came forward, wiping his hands on his apron. "That fellow with the scar?" he said. "He went out of here some five minutes ago." "Which way?" asked Ghent. But no one in the room could say. They passed out again, and Ghent smiled reassuringly at the boys. "Well," he said, "like as not he'll never cross our path again, so it's only one rogue the more unhung." Jeremy failed to find much comfort in this philosophy, but said no more, and soon found himself snugly on board the big merchantman, where his bunk and Bob's were already made up and awaiting them. It was good to hear the creak of timbers and feel the rocking of the tide once more. Jeremy lay long awake that night thinking of many things. At last he was on the final lap of his journey. The _Indian Queen's_ cargo would be stowed within a day or two and she would start with him toward home. He thought with a quiver of happiness of the reunion with his father. Had he quite given up hope for his boy? Jeremy had heard of such a shock of joy being fatal. He must be careful. He thought of the evil face of the broken-nosed buccaneer. What was Daggs doing in New York? Just then there was a faint sound as of creaking cordage from beyond the side. Jeremy's bunk was near the open port and by leaning over a little he could see the river. Barely a boat's length away, in the dark, a tall-masted, schooner-rigged craft was slipping past on the outgoing tide, with not so much as a harbor-light showing. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXVI It was on the second morning after the boys had reached New York that the _Indian Queen_ went down the harbor, her canvas drawing merrily in the spanking breeze of dawn. The intervening day had been spent at the dock-side, where wide-breeched Dutch longshoremen were stoutly hustling bales and boxes of merchandise into the hold. Jeremy had watched the passers along the river front narrowly, though he could not help having a feeling that Pharaoh Daggs was gone. The fancy would not leave his mind that there was some connection between the vanished pirate and the dark vessel he had seen stealing out on the night tide. A strong southwest wind followed them all day as the _Queen_ ran past the low Long Island shore, and that night, though Captain Ghent gave orders to shorten sail, the ship still plunged ahead with unchecked speed. They cleared the Nantucket shoals next day and saw all through the afternoon the sun glint on the lonely white dunes of Cape Cod. Two more bright days of breeze succeeded and they were working up outside the fringe of islands, large and small, that dot the coast of Maine. Jeremy was too excited even to eat. He stayed constantly by the man at the helm and was often joined there by Bob and the Captain, as they drew nearer to the Penobscot Bay coast. In the morning they dropped anchor in fifteen fathoms, to leeward of a good-sized fir-clad island. Jeremy had a dim recollection of having seen it from the round-topped peak above his father's shack. His heart beat high at the thought that tomorrow might bring them to the place they sought, and it was many hours before he went to sleep. At last the morning came, cloudless and bright, with a little south breeze stirring. Before the sun was fairly clear of the sea, the anchor had been catted, and the _Queen_ was moving gracefully northeastward under snowy topsails. They cleared a wide channel between two islands and Jeremy, forward with the lookout, gave a mighty shout that brought his chum to his side on the run. There to the east, across a dozen miles of silver-shimmering sea, loomed a gray peak, round and smooth as an inverted bowl. "It's the island!" cried Jeremy, and Captain Ghent, turning to the mate, gave a joyful order to get more sail on the ship. About the middle of the forenoon the _Queen_ came into the wind and her anchor went down with a roar and a splash, not three cables' lengths from the spot in the northern bay where Jeremy and his father had first landed their flock of sheep. On the gray slope above the shore the boys could see the low, black cabin, silent and apparently tenantless. Behind it was the stout stockade of the sheep-pen, also deserted, and above, the thin grass and gray, grim ledges climbed toward the wooded crest of the hill. Jeremy's face fell. "They must have gone," he said. But Bob, standing by the rail as they waited for the jollyboat to be lowered, pointed excitedly toward the rocky westward shoulder of the island. "Look there!" he cried. Three or four white dots were moving slowly along the face of the hill. "Sheep!" said Jeremy, taking heart. "They'd not have left the sheep--unless----" But the boat was ready, below the side, and the Captain and the two boys tumbled quickly in. Five minutes later the four stout rowers sent the bow far up the sand with a final heave on the oars. They jumped out and hastened up the hill. There was still no sign of life about the cabin, but as they drew near a sudden sharp racket startled them, and around the corner of the sheep-pen tore a big collie dog, barking excitedly. He hesitated a bare instant, then jumped straight at Jeremy with a whine of frantic welcome. "Jock, lad!" cried the boy, joyfully burying his face in the sable ruff of the dog's neck. In response to his voice, the door of the cabin was thrown open and a tall youth of nineteen stepped out, hesitating as he saw the group below. Jeremy shook off the collie and ran forward. "Don't you know me, Tom?" he laughed. "I'm your brother--back from the pirates!" The amazed look on the other's face slowly gave place to one of half-incredulous joy as he gripped the youngster's shoulders and looked long into his eyes. "Know ye!" he said at length with a break in his voice. "Certain I know ye, though ye've grown half a foot it seems! But wait, we must tell father. He's in bed, hurt." Tom turned to the door again. "Here, father," he called breathlessly. "Here's Jeremy, home safe and sound!" He seized his brother's hand and led him into the cabin. In the half-darkness at the back of the room the lad saw a rough bed, and above the homespun blankets Amos Swan's bearded face. He sprang toward him and flung himself down by the bunk, his head against his father's breast. He felt strong, well-remembered fingers that trembled a little as they gripped his arm. There was no word said. CHAPTER XXVII It was the savory smell of cooking hominy and the sizzle of broiling fish that woke Jeremy next morning. He drew a breath of pure ecstasy, rolled over and began pummelling the inert form of Bob, who had shared his blanket on an improvised bed in the cabin. The Delaware boy opened an eye, closed it again with carefully assumed drowsiness, and the next instant leaped like a joyful wildcat on his tormentor. There was a beautiful tussle that was only broken off by Tom's announcement of breakfast. Opposite the stone fireplace was a table of hewn planks at which Bob, with Jeremy, Tom and their father, were soon seated. The latter had bruised his knee several days before, but was now sufficiently recovered to walk about with the aid of a stick. "Father," said Jeremy between mouthfuls, "I want to see that cove again, where the pirates landed. If we may take the fowling-piece, Bob and I'll go across the island, after we've bade good-by to Captain Ghent." "Ay, lad," Amos Swan replied, "you'll find the cove just as they left it. An I mistake not, the place where their fire was is still black upon the beach, and the rum-barrels are lying up among the driftwood. 'Twas there we found them--on the second day. Ah, Jeremy, lad--little we thought then we'd see you back safe and strong, and that so soon!" The white frost of the November morning was still gleaming on the grass when the two boys went out. Against the cloudless sky the spires of the dark fir trees were cut in clean silhouette. From the _Indian Queen_, lying off shore, came the creak of blocks and sheaves as the yards were trimmed, and soon, her anchor catted home, she filled gracefully away to the northward, while the Captain waved a cheery farewell from the poop. He was bound up the coast for Halifax, and was to pick Bob up on his return voyage, a month later. When they had watched the ship's white sails disappear behind the eastern headland, the boys started up the hill behind the cabin. They carried a lunch of bread and dried fish in a leather pouch and across Jeremy's shoulder was one of his father's guns. Bob was armed with the silver-mounted pistol from Stede Bonnet's arsenal. It was a glorious morning for a trip of exploration and the hearts of both lads were high as they clambered out on the warm bare rock that crowned the island. "Isn't it just as fine as I told you?" Jeremy cried. "Look--those blue mountains yonder must be twenty leagues away. And you can hardly count the islands in this great bay! Off there to the south is where I saw the _Revenge_ for the first time--just a speck on the sea, she was!" Bob, who had never seen the view from a really high hill before, stood open-mouthed as he looked about him. Suddenly he grasped Jeremy's arm. "See!" he exclaimed, "down there--isn't that smoke?" He was pointing toward the low, swampy region in the southwestern part of the island. Jeremy watched intently, but there was nothing to disturb the morning calm of sky and shore. "That's queer," Bob said at last, with a puzzled look. "I could take an oath I saw just the faintest wisp of smoke over there. But I must have been mistaken." "Well," laughed Jeremy, "we'll soon make sure, for that's not far from where we're going." They scrambled down, and following the ridge, turned south toward the lower bay at about the point where Jeremy had been discovered by Dave Herriot and the pirate Captain. Dodging through the tangle of undergrowth and driftwood, they soon emerged on the loose sand above the beach. As Amos Swan had said, the rains had not yet washed away the black embers of the great bonfire, and near by lay a barrel with staves caved in. Looking at the scene, Jeremy almost fancied he could hear again the wild chorus of that drunken crew, most of whom had now gone to their last accounting. "What say we walk down the shore a way?" suggested Bob. "There might be a duck or two in that reedy cove below here." And Jeremy, glad to quit the place, led off briskly westward along the sand. Soon they came to the entrance of a narrow, winding tide-creek that ran back till it was hidden from sight in the tall reeds. Just as they reached the place, a large flock of sandpeeps flew over with soft whistling, and lighting on the beach, scurried along in a dense company, offering an easy target. Bob, who was carrying the gun, brought it quickly to his shoulder and was about to fire when Jeremy stopped him with a low "S-s-s-s-t!" Bob turned, following the direction of Jeremy's outstretched arm, and for a second both boys stood as if petrified, gazing up the tide-creek toward the interior of the island. About a quarter of a mile away, above the reeds, which grew in rank profusion to a man's height or higher, they saw a pair of slender masts, canted far over. "A ship!" whispered Bob. "Deserted, though, most likely." "No," Jeremy answered, "I don't think it. Her cordage would have slacked off more and she wouldn't look so trim. Bob, wasn't it near here you saw that smoke?" "Jiminy!" said Bob, "so it was! Right over in the marsh, close to those spars. It's some vessel that's put in here to careen. Wonder where her crew can be?" "That's what looks so queer to me," the other boy replied. "They're keeping out of sight mighty careful. Men from any honest ship would have been all over the island the first day ashore. I don't like the look of it. Let's get back and tell father. Maybe we can find out who it is, afterwards." Bob argued at first for an immediate reconnaissance, but when Jeremy pointed out the fact that if the strangers were undesirable they would surely have a guard hidden in the reeds up the creek, he accepted the more discreet plan. They made their way quietly, but with as much haste as possible back along the shore, past the remnant of the fire, and up the hill into the thick woods. Just as they crossed the ridge and began to see the glint of the northern inlet through the trees, Jeremy paused with a sudden exclamation. "Here's the spring," he said, "and look at the sign above it. I never saw that before, for it was dark when I was up here. I almost fell in." The spring itself was nearly invisible to one coming from this direction, but stuck in the fork of a tree, beside it, was a weathered old piece of ship's planking on which had been rudely cut the single word WATTER. "Some Captain who used to fill his casks here must have put it up so that the spring would be easier to find," Bob suggested. But Jeremy, striding ahead, was thinking hard and did not answer. Amos Swan heard their news with a grave face. No ship but the _Queen_ had touched at the island for several months to his knowledge, he said. He agreed with the boys that the secrecy of the thing looked suspicious. When Tom came in for the noon meal, his father told him of the discovery and they both decided to bring the sheep in at once, and make preparations for possible trouble. Tom, armed, and accompanied by the boys, set out soon after dinner for the western end of the island, two miles from the shack. It was there that the flock was accustomed to graze, shepherded by the wise dog, Jock. Their way led along the rocky northern slope, where the sheep had already worn well-defined paths among the scrubby grass and juniper patches, then up across a steep knoll and through a belt of fir and hemlock. When at length they came out from among the trees, the pasture lay before them. There in a hollow a hundred yards away the flock was huddled. Jock became aware of their approach at that instant and lifted his head in a short, choking bark. He started toward them, but before he had taken a dozen steps they could see that he was limping painfully. Running forward, Jeremy knelt beside the big collie, then turned with a movement of sudden dismay and called to his comrades. He had seen the broad splotch of vivid red stained the dog's white breast. Examination showed a deep clean cut in the fur of the neck, from which the blood still flowed sluggishly. But in spite of his weakness and the pain he evidently suffered, Jock could hardly wait to lead his masters back to the flock. Hurrying on with him they crossed a little rise of ground and came upon the sheep which were crowded close to one another, panting in abject terror. [Illustration: Jock] "Twenty-six--twenty-eight--yes, twenty-eight and that's all!" Tom said. "There are two of them missing!" Jock had limped on some twenty yards further and now stood beside a juniper bush, shivering with eagerness. Following him thither, the boys found him sniffing at a blood-soaked patch of grass. The ground for several feet around was cut up as if in some sort of struggle. A few shreds of bloody wool, caught in the junipers, told their own story. A man--probably several men--had been on the spot not two hours before and had killed two of the sheep. They had not succeeded in this without a fight, in which the gallant old dog had been stabbed with a seaman's dirk or some other sharp weapon. Bob, scouting onward a short distance, found the deep boot-tracks of two men in a wet place between some rocks. They were headed south-eastward--straight toward the reedy swamp where the boys had seen the top-masts of the strange vessel! The crew--whoever they might be--had decided to leave no further doubt of their intentions. They had opened hostilities and to them had fallen first blood. With serious faces and guns held ready for an attack the three lads turned toward home, driving the scared flock before them. Old Jock, stiff and limping from his wound, brought up the rear. They reached the inlet at last, but it was sunset when the last sheep was inside the stockade and the cabin door was barred. That night the wind changed, and the cold gray blanket of a Penobscot Bay fog shut down over the island. CHAPTER XXVIII The fog held for two days. On the third morning Jeremy, on his knees by the hearth fire, was squinting down the bright barrel of a flintlock. He had been quiet for a long time. Bob felt the tenseness of the situation himself, but he could not understand the other's absolute silence. He scowled as he sat on the floor, and savagely drove a long-bladed hunting-knife into the cracks between the hewn planks. At length a low whistle from Jeremy caused him to pause and look up quickly. "What is it?" he asked. A look of excitement was growing in Jeremy's face. "Say, Bob!" he exclaimed, after a second or two. "I've just remembered something that I've been trying to bring to mind ever since we crossed the island. You know the sign we saw up by the spring? Well, somewhere, once before, I knew I'd seen the word 'Watter' spelled that way. So have you--do you remember?" Bob shook his head slowly. Then a look of comprehending wonder came into his eyes. "Yes," he cried. "It was on that old chart in Pharaoh Daggs' chest!" "Right," said Jeremy. "And now that I think about it, I believe this is the very island! Let's see--the bay was shaped this way----" He had seized a charred stick from the hearth and was drawing on the floor. "Two narrow points, with quite a stretch of water inside--a rounded cove up here, and a mitten-shaped cove over here. And the anchor was drawn--wait a minute--right here. Why, Bob, look here! That's the same rounded cove with the beach where the sloop anchored that night they got me!" Bob could hardly contain himself. "I remember!" he said. "And the dot, with the word 'Watter' was one and a half finger-joints northeast of the bay. Let's see, the bay itself was about four joints long, wasn't it? Or a little over? Anyhow, that would put the spring about--here." "Allowing for our not being able to remember exactly the shape of the bay," Jeremy put in, "that's just where the spring should be. Bob, this is the island! And now that cross-mark between the two straight lines--two finger-joints northwest of the anchorage-cove, it was. That's just about here." He marked the spot on the floor with his stick. "Now we've got it all down. And if that cross-mark shows where the treasure is----" Jeremy paused and looked at Bob, his eyes shining. "Where would that be--up on the hill somewhere?" asked Bob breathlessly. "About three-quarters of a mile south of the spring--right on the ridge," Jeremy answered. "When shall we start?" Bob asked, his voice husky with excitement. "Wait a bit," counselled Jeremy. "We daren't tell father or Tom, for they'd think it just a wild-goose chase, and we'd have to promise not to leave the cabin. You know it _is_ an improbable sort of yarn. Besides, we'd better go careful. Do you know who I think is at the head of that crew, over in the creek?" "Who?" whispered Bob. Jeremy's face was pale as he leaned close. "Pharaoh Daggs!" He said the name beneath his breath, almost as if he feared that the man with the broken nose might hear him. And now for the first time he told Bob of the schooner that had slipped past in the dark that night in the East River. "You're right, Jeremy," Bob agreed. "He'd lose no time getting up here if he could find a craft to carry him. You don't suppose they've found Brig's treasure yet, do you?" he added in dismay. "They can't have reached here more than a day before us," Jeremy replied. "And if they haven't it already aboard, they won't be able to do anything while this fog holds. If it should lift tomorrow, we'll have a chance to scout around up there. But don't say a word to father." That night the boys slept little, for both were in a fever of expectation. They were disappointed in the morning to see the solid wall of fog still surrounding the cabin. But Jeremy, sniffing the air like the true woodsman that he was, announced that there would be a change of weather before night, and set about rubbing the barrel of the flintlock till it gleamed. The day dragged slowly by. At last, about three in the afternoon, a slight wind from the northeast sprang up, and the wreaths of vapor began to drift away seaward. Luckily for the boys' plans, both Tom and his father were inside the sheep-stockade when Bob took the pistols, powder and shot down from the wall, and with Jeremy went quietly forth. Before the mist had wholly cleared, they were well into the woods, climbing toward the summit of the ridge. Each kept a careful watch about, for they feared the possibility that a guard might have been set to observe movements at the cabin. They reached the top without incident, however, and turned westward along the watershed. They were increasingly careful now, for if the pirates were dependent on the spring for their water, some of them might pass close by at any moment. Bob, who was almost as expert a hunter as Jeremy, followed noiselessly in the track of the New England boy, moving like a shadow from tree to tree. So they progressed for fifteen minutes or more. Then Jeremy paused and beckoned to Bob, whispering that they should separate a short distance so as to cover a wider territory in their search. They went on, Bob on the north slope, Jeremy on the south, moving cautiously and examining every rock and tree for some blaze that might indicate the whereabouts of the treasure. More minutes passed. The sun was already low, and Jeremy began to think about turning toward home. Just then he came to the brink of a narrow chasm in the ledge. Hardly more than a cleft it was, three or four feet wide at its widest part, and extending deep down between the walls of rock. He was about to jump over and proceed when his eye caught a momentary gleam in the obscurity at the bottom of the crevice. He peered downward for a second, then stood erect, waving to Bob with both arms. The other boy caught his signal and came rapidly through the trees to the spot, hurrying faster as he saw the excitement in Jeremy's face. "What--what have you found?" he gasped under his breath. Jeremy was already wriggling his way down between the smooth rock walls, bracing himself with back and knees. Within a few seconds he had reached the bottom, some ten feet below. It was a sloping, uneven floor of earth, lighted dimly from above and from the south, where the ledge shelved off down the hillside. The dirt was black and damp, undisturbed for years save by the feeble pushing of some pale, seedling plant. Jeremy groped aimlessly at first, then, as his eyes became accustomed to the half-light, peered closely into the crevices along either side. Bob leaned over the edge, pointing. "Back and to the left!" he whispered. Jeremy turned as directed, felt along the earth and finally clutched at something that seemed to glitter with a yellow light. He turned his face upward and Bob read utter disappointment in his eyes. The gleaming something which he held aloft was nothing but a bit of discolored mica that had reflected the faint light. Bob almost groaned aloud as he looked at it. Then he took off his belt and passed an end of it down for Jeremy to climb up by. The latter took hold half-heartedly, and was commencing the ascent when his moccasined foot slipped on a low, arching hump in the damp earth. He went down on one knee and as it struck the ground there was a faint hollow thud. Astonished, the boy remained in a kneeling posture and felt about beneath him with his hands. "What is it?" whispered Bob. Jeremy stood erect again. "Some kind of old, slippery wet wood," he answered. "It feels like--like a barrel!" "I'm coming down!" said the Delaware boy, and casting a cautious look around, he descended into the depths of the crevice. With their hands and hunting-knives both boys went to work feverishly to unearth the wooden object. A few moments of breathless labor laid bare the side and part of one end of a heavily-built, oaken keg. "Now maybe we can lift it out," said Jeremy, and taking a strong grip of the edge, they heaved mightily together. It stirred a bare fraction of an inch in its bed. "Again!" panted Jeremy, and they made another desperate try. It was of no avail. The keg seemed to weigh hundreds of pounds. Mopping his forehead with his sleeve, Bob stood up and looked his companion in the face. "Well," he grinned, "the heavier the better!" "Right!" Jeremy agreed. "But how'll we get it home? We don't dare chop it open--too much noise--or set fire to it, for they'd see the smoke. Besides it's too damp to burn. Here--I'll see what's in it, yet!" He crouched at the end of the barrel, whetted his hunting-knife on his palm a few times, and began to cut swiftly at a crack between two staves. Gradually the blade worked into the wood, opening a long narrow slot as Jeremy whittled away first at one side, then at the other. From time to time either he or Bob would stoop, trembling with excitement to peer through the crack, but it was pitch-dark inside the barrel. Jeremy kept at his task without rest, and as his knife had more play, the shavings he cut from the sides of the opening grew thicker and thicker. First he, then Bob, would try, every few seconds, to thrust a fist through the widening hole. At length Bob's hand, which was a trifle smaller than Jeremy's, squeezed through. There was a breathless instant, while he groped within the keg, and then, with a struggle he pulled his hand forth. In his fingers he clutched a broad yellow disc. "Gold!" They gasped the word together. Bob's face was awe-struck. "It's full of 'em--full of pieces like this," he whispered, "right up to within four inches of the top!" They bent over the huge gold coin. The queer characters of the inscription, cut in deep relief, were strange to both boys. Jeremy had seen Spanish doubloons and the great double _moidores_ of Portugal, but never such a piece as this. It was nearly two inches across and thick and heavy in proportion. One after another Bob drew out dozens of the shining coins, and they filled their pockets with them till they felt weighted down. At length Jeremy, looking up, was startled to see that the sun had set and darkness was rapidly settling over the island. They threw dirt over the barrel, then with all possible speed clambered forth, and taking up their guns, made their way home as quietly as they had come. CHAPTER XXIX "No, lad, the risk is too great. Ye'd be in worse plight than before, if they caught ye, and with a score of the ruffians searching the island over, ye'd run too long a chance. Better be satisfied with what's here, and stay where we can at least defend ourselves." Amos Swan was speaking. On the deal table before him, a heap of great goldpieces gleamed in the firelight while seated around the board were his two sons and Bob. It was Tom who answered. "True enough, father," he said, "and yet this gold is ours. We own the island by the Governor's grant. If we sit idle the pirates will surely find the treasure and make off with it. But if we go up there at night, as Jeremy suggests, the risk we run will be smaller, and every time we make the trip we'll add a thousand guineas to that pile there. Think of it, father." The elder man frowned thoughtfully. "Well," he said at length, "if you go with them, Tom, and you go carefully, at night, we'll chance it, once at least. Not tonight, though. It's late now and you all need sleep. I'll take the first watch." At about ten o'clock of the evening following, Jeremy, Bob and Tom stole out and up the hill in the darkness. They were well-armed but carried no lantern, the boys being confident of their ability to find the cleft in the ledge without a light. A half hour's walking brought them near the spot, and Jeremy, who had almost an Indian's memory for the "lay of the ground," soon led the way to the edge of the chasm. Dim starlight shone through the gap in the trees above the ledge, but there was only darkness below in the pit. One by one they felt their way down and at last all three stood on the damp earth at the bottom. "Here's the barrel--just as we left it. They haven't been here yet!" Jeremy whispered. Working as quickly and as quietly as he could, Bob reached into the opening in the keg and pulled out the gold, piece by piece, while the others, taking the coins from his fingers, filled their pockets, and the leather pouches they had brought. It was breathlessly exciting work, for all three were aware of the danger that they ran. When finally they crawled forth, laden like sumpter-mules, the perspiration was thick on Jeremy's forehead. Knowing the character of Pharaoh Daggs so well, he realized, better probably than either of his companions, what fate they might expect if they were discovered. So far, apparently, the pirates had not thought of setting a night guard on the ridge. If they continued to neglect this precaution and failed to find the treasure themselves, three more trips would---- His calculations were interrupted by the sudden snapping of a twig. He stopped, instantly on the alert. Behind him Tom and Bob had also paused. Neither of them had caused the sound. It had seemed to come from the thick bush down hill to the right. For an endlessly long half-minute the three held their breath, listening. Then once more something crackled, farther away this time, and in a more southwesterly direction. Man or animal, whatever it was that made the sounds, was moving rapidly away from them. Jeremy hunched the straps of his heavy pouch higher up on his shoulder and led on again, faster than before, and hurrying forward in Indian file, they reached the cabin without further adventure. All through the next day they stood watch and watch at the shack, ready for the attack which they expected to develop sooner or later. But still it appeared that the pirates preferred to keep out of sight. The boys had told Amos Swan of the noises they had heard the previous night and he had listened with a grave countenance. It could hardly have been other than one of the pirates, he thought, for he was quite certain that except for a few rabbits, there were no wild animals upon the island. "Still," he said, "if you were moving quietly, there's small reason to believe the man knew you were near. If he did know and made such a noise as that, he must have been a mighty poor woodsman!" The boys, anxious that nothing should prevent another trip to the treasure-keg, accepted this logic without demur. The following night Amos Swan decided to go with the boys himself, leaving Tom on guard at the cabin. As before, they armed themselves with guns, pistols and hunting-knives and ascended the hillside in the inky dark. There were no stars in sight and a faint breeze that came and went among the trees foreboded rain. This prospect of impending bad weather made itself felt in the spirits of the three treasure-hunters. Jeremy, accustomed as he was to the woods, drew a breath of apprehension and looked scowlingly aloft as he heard the dismal wind in the hemlock tops. Ugh! He shook himself nervously and plunged forward along the hillcrest. A few moments later they were gathered about the barrel at the bottom of the cleft. It was even darker than they had found it on their previous visit. Jeremy and his father had to grope in the pitchy blackness for the coins that Bob held out to them. Their pockets were about half-full when there came a whispered exclamation from the Delaware boy. "There's some sort of box in here, buried in the gold!" he said. "It's too big to pull out through the hole. Where's your dirk, Jeremy?" The latter knelt astride the keg, and working in the dark, began to enlarge the opening with the blade of his hunting-knife. After a few minutes he thrust his hand in and felt the box. It was apparently of wood, covered with leather and studded over with scores of nails. Its top was only seven or eight inches wide by less than a foot long, however, and in thickness it seemed scarcely a hand's breadth. Big cold drops of rain were beginning to fall as Jeremy resumed his cutting. He made the opening longer as well as wider, and at last was able by hard tugging to get the box through. He thrust it into his pouch and they recommenced the filling of their pockets with goldpieces. Before a dozen coins had been removed a sudden red glare on the walls of the chasm caused the three to leap to their feet. At the same instant the rain increased to a downpour, and they looked up to see a pine-knot torch in the opening above them splutter and go out. The wet darkness came down blacker than before. But in that second of illumination they had seen framed in the torchlit cleft a pair of gleaming light eyes and a cruelly snarling mouth set in a face made horrible by the livid scar that ran from chin to eyebrow across its broken nose. Jeremy clutched at Bob and his father. "This way!" he gasped through the hissing rain, and plunged along the black chasm toward the southern end, where it debouched upon the hillside. They clambered over some boulders and emerged in the undergrowth, a score of yards from the point where the barrel had been found. "Come on," whispered Jeremy hoarsely, and started eastward along the slope. Burdened as they were, they ran through the woods at desperate speed, the noise of their going drowned by the descending flood. In the haste of flight it was impossible to keep together. When Jeremy had put close to half a mile between himself and the chasm, he paused panting and listened for the others, but apparently they were not near. He decided to cut across the ridge, and started up the hill, when he heard a crash in the brush just above him. "Father?" he called under his breath. To his dismay he was answered by a startled oath, and the next moment he saw a tall figure coming at him swinging a cutlass. The pirate was a bare ten feet away. Jeremy aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger, but only a dull click responded. The priming was wet. [Illustration: A sudden red glare on the walls of the chasm.] At that instant the cutlass passed his head with an ugly sound and Jeremy, desperate, flung his pistol straight at the pirate's face. As it left his hand he heard it strike. Then as the man went down with a groan, he doubled in his tracks like a hare, and ran back, heading up across the hill. It was not till he was over the ridge and well down the slope toward home that he dropped to a walk. His breath was coming in gasps that hurt him like a knife between his ribs, and his legs were so weak he could hardly depend on them. He had run nearly two miles, up hill and down, in heavy clothes drenched with rain, and carrying a dozen pounds of gold besides the flintlock fowling-piece which he still clutched in his left hand. Somewhere behind him he had dropped the box, found amid the treasure, but he was far too tired to look for it. More dead than alive he crawled, at last, up to the door of the cabin and staggered in when Tom opened to his knock. While he gasped out his story, the older brother looked more closely to the barring of the window-shutters and put fresh powder in the priming-pans of the guns. Ten minutes after Jeremy, his father appeared, wet to the skin and with a grim look around his bearded jaws. He, too, was spent with running, but he would have gone out again at once when he heard that Bob was still missing if the boys had not dissuaded him. Jeremy was sure that if Bob had escaped he would soon reach the cabin, for he had the lay of the island well in mind now. And so, while Tom kept watch, they lay down with their clothes on before the fire. CHAPTER XXX The gray November morning dawned damp and cold. In the sheer exhaustion that followed on their adventure of the night before, Jeremy and his father slept heavily till close to nine o'clock, when Tom wakened them. His face was haggard with watching, and he looked so worried that they had no need to ask him if Bob had come in. It was a gloomy party that sat down to the morning meal. The youngest could eat nothing for thinking of his chum's fate. While his father still spoke hopefully of the possibility that the boy might have found a hiding place which he dared not leave, Jeremy could only remember the frightful, scarred visage of Pharaoh Daggs looming in the torchlight. He knew that Bob would find little mercy behind that cruel face, and he could not throw off the conviction that the lad had fallen into the clutches of the pirates. All day, standing at the loopholes, they waited for some sign either of Bob's return, or, what seemed more probable, an attack by the buccaneer crew. But as the hours passed no moving form broke the dark line of trees above them on the slope. At length the dusk fell, and they gave up hope of seeing the boy again, though on the other score their vigilance was redoubled. The night went by, however, as quietly as though the island were deserted. It was about two hours after sunrise that Jeremy stole out to give fodder to the sheep, penned in the stockade ever since the first alarm. He had been gone a bare two minutes when he rushed back into the cabin. "Look father," he cried. "In the bay--there's a sloop coming in to anchor!" Amos Swan went to a northern loophole, and peered forth. "What is she? Can ye make her out? Seems to fly the British Jack all right," he said. Following the two boys, he hurried outside. Jeremy had run down the hill to the beach where he stood, gazing intently at the craft, and shading his eyes with his hand. After a moment he turned excitedly. "Father," he shouted, "it's the _Tiger!_ I saw her only once, but I'd not forget those fine lines of her. Look--there's Job, himself, getting into the cutter!" A big man in a blue cloak had just stepped into the stern sheets of the boat, and seeing the figures on the shore, he now waved a hand in their direction. Sure enough, in three minutes Captain Job Howland jumped out upon the sand and with a roar of greeting caught Jeremy's hand in his big fist. "Well, lad," he laughed, "ye look glad to see us. Didn't know we was headed up this way, did ye? But here we be! Soon as the sloop was ready Mr. Curtis had a light cargo for Boston town, and he told me to coast up here on the same trip. He wants Bob home again. Why--what ails ye, boy?" They were climbing the path toward the shack, when Job noticed the downcast look on Jeremy's face, and interrupted himself. In a few words the boy told what had happened during the brief week they had been on the island. "By the Great Bull Whale!" muttered the ex-buccaneer in astonishment. "Sol Brig's treasure, sure enough! And that devil, Daggs--see here, if Bob's alive, we've got to get him out of that!" He swung about and hailed the boat's crew, all six of whom had remained on the beach. "Adams, and you, Mason, pull back to the sloop and bring off all the men in the port watch, with their cutlasses and small-arms. The rest of you come up here." As soon as Job had shaken hands with Jeremy's father and brother, they entered the cabin. "Now, Jeremy," said the skipper, "you say this craft is careened on the other side of the island, close to the place where Stede Bonnet landed us that time? How many men have they?" "We don't know," the boy replied. "But I don't think Daggs had time to gather a big crew, and what's more, he'd figure the fewer the better when it came to splitting up the gold. I doubt if there's above fifteen men--maybe only fourteen now." He grinned as he thought of the big pirate who had attacked him in the woods. "Good," said Job. "We'll have sixteen besides you, Mr. Swan, and your two boys. An even twenty, counting myself. If we can't put that crowd under hatches, I'm no sailorman." The crew of the _Tiger_, bristling with arms and eager for action, now came up. Without wasting time Job told them what was afoot and they moved forward up the hill. Once among the trees the attacking party spread out in irregular fan-formation, with Tom and Jeremy scouting a little in advance. The stillness of the woods was almost oppressive as they went forward. All the men seemed to feel it and proceeded with more and more caution. Used to the hurly-burly of sea-fighting, they did not relish this silent approach against an unseen enemy. Clearing the ridge they came down at length to the edge of the beach, close to the old pirate anchorage, and Jeremy led the way along through the bushes toward the mouth of the reedy inlet. Working carefully down the shore to the place whence Bob and he had sighted the spars of the buccaneer, he climbed above the reeds and peered up the creek. To his surprise the masts had disappeared. "She's gone!" he gasped. Job and Tom looked in turn. Certain it was that no vessel lay in the creek! "Perhaps they sighted the _Tiger_," suggested Jeremy. "If so, they can't have gotten far. They've likely taken the rest of the gold. And Bob must be aboard, too, if he's still alive." As they turned to go back, one of the sailors who had walked down to the reeds at the edge of the creek, hurried up with a dark object in his fist. He held it out as he drew near and they saw that it was a pistol, covered with a mass of black mud, Jeremy saw a gleam of metal through the sticky lump, and quickly scraping away the mud from the mounting he disclosed a silver plate which bore the still terrible name "Stede Bonnet." The boy gave a cry of pleasure as he saw it, and thrust the weapon quickly into Job's hands. "Look!" he exclaimed. "It's Bob's pistol. And there's only one way it could have gotten where it was. He must have thrown it from the sloop's deck as they went past, thinking we'd find it. See here! They can't be gone more than a few hours, for there's not a bit of rust on the iron parts. Maybe we could catch them, Job, if we hurry!" Job turned to his men and called, "What say you, lads--shall we give them a chase?" A chorus of vociferous "Ay, Ay's" was the answer. "Here we go, then!" he shouted, and led the way back up the hill at a trot. As they reached the ridge, Jeremy cut over to the left a little through the trees, so that his course lay past the treasure cleft. When he reached it he found just what he had expected--the shattered staves of the barrel lying open on the ledge, and several rough excavations in the dirt at the bottom of the chasm, where the buccaneers had searched greedily for more gold. The charred remnants of a bonfire, a few yards further down the cleft, showed that they had worked partly at night. Leaving the ledge, the boy was hurrying back to join the main party when he came out upon an elevated space, clear of trees, from which one could command a view of the sea to the west and south. Involuntarily he paused, and shading his eyes with his hand, swept the horizon slowly. Then he gave a start, for straight away to the westward, in a gap between two islands, was a white speck of sail. "Job!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Job!" The big skipper was only a short distance away, and he came through the trees at a run followed by most of his men, in answer to Jeremy's hail. No words were necessary. The boy's pointing finger led their eyes instantly to the far-off ship. Job took a quick look at the sun and the distant islands, to fix his bearings, then set out for the northern inlet again, even faster than before. As they came running down the slope toward the cabin, Amos Swan emerged, gun in hand, evidently believing that they were in full rout before the enemy. "They've left the island," panted Jeremy, as he reached the door. "We saw their sail--we're going to chase them! We're sure, now, that Bob's aboard!" His father looked relieved. "Go--you and Tom!" he said. "I'll stay and mind the island." Job, with a dozen of his men, was starting in the cutter, and had already hailed the _Tiger_ to order the other boat sent ashore. Tom and Jeremy hurried into the cabin, and stuffing some clothes into Jeremy's sea-chest along with a brace of good pistols and a cutlass apiece, were soon ready to embark. CHAPTER XXXI There was a bustle of action aboard the sloop when the boys swarmed up her side. One chanty was being sung up forward, where half a dozen sturdy seamen were heaving at the capstan bars, and another was going amidships as the throat of the long main gaff went to the top. Captain Job stood on the afterdeck, constantly shouting new orders. His big voice made itself heard above the singing, the groan of tackle-blocks and the crash of the canvas, flapping in the northwest wind. It was a clear, sunny day, with a bite of approaching winter in the air, and the boys were glad to button their jackets tight and move into the lee of the after-house. "Here, lads," Job cried, "there's work for you, too. Take a run below, Jeremy, and bring up an armload of cutlasses. See if any of those muskets need cleaning, Tom." Jeremy scurried down the companion ladder, and forward along the starboard gun deck to the rack of small arms near the fo'c's'le hatch. Jeremy was pleased to see that the sloop carried a full complement of ten broadside guns, beside a long brass cannon in the bows. In fact, she was armed like a regular man-o'-war. The tubs were filled and neat little piles of round-shot and cannister stood beside each gun. The _Tiger_, he thought, was likely to give a good account of herself if she could come to grips with the buccaneers. Stepping on deck once more, his arms piled with hangers, Jeremy found that the sloop had already cleared the bay on her starboard tack and was just coming about to make a long reach of it to port. The pirate sail was no longer in sight in the west, but as several islands filled the horizon in that direction, it seemed likely that she had passed beyond them. Jeremy approached the Captain. "How far ahead do you think they are?" he asked. "When we sighted 'em, they were about four sea-miles to the westward," answered Job. "If they're making ordinary sailing, they've gained close to three more, since then. But if they're carrying much canvas it may be more. We shan't come near them before dark, at any rate." He cast an eye aloft as he spoke, and Jeremy's gaze followed. The _Tiger_ was carrying topsails and both jibs, with a single reef in her fore and main sails. She was scudding along at a great rate with the whitecaps racing by, close below the lee gunports. Jeremy whistled with delight. He had seen Stede Bonnet crowd canvas once or twice, but never in so good a cause. The wind held from the northwest, gaining in strength rather than decreasing, and the sloop, heeled far to port, sped along close-hauled on a west-sou'west course. After three-quarters of an hour of this kind of sailing they were close to the group of islands, and sighting a passage to the northward, swung over on the other tack. A rough beat to starboard brought them into the gap. Though they crossed a grim, black shoal at the narrowest part, Job did not shorten sail, but steered straight on as fast as the wind would take him. And at length they came clear of the headland and saw a great stretch of open sea to the southwestward with a faint, white dot of sail at its farthest edge. At the sight a hearty cheer went up from the seamen, clustered along the port rail. A lean, wind-browned man with keen black eyes came aft to the tiller where Jeremy and Tom stood with the Captain. It was Isaiah Hawkes, Job's first mate, himself a Maine coast man. "It's all clear sailin' ahead, sir," he said. "No more reefs or islands 'twixt this an' Cape Cod, if they follow the course they're on." The _Tiger_ hung with fluttering canvas in the wind's eye for a second or two, then settled away on the port tack with a bang of her main boom. "Here, Isaiah, take the tiller," said Job, at length. "Hold her as she is--two points to windward of the other sloop. You'll want to set an extra lookout tonight," he continued. "We shan't be able to keep 'em in sight at this distance, if they've sighted us, which most likely they have. I'm going up to have a look at 'Long Poll' now." Accompanied by the two boys, he made his way along the steeply canted deck of the plunging schooner to the breach of the swivel-gun at the bow. "Ever seen this gal afore, Jeremy?" asked Job, shouting to make himself heard above the hiss and thunder of the water under the forefoot. "She's the old gun we had aboard the _Queen_. Stede Bonnet never had a piece like this. Cast in Bristol, she was, in '94. There's the letters that tells it." And he patted the bright breach lovingly, sighting along the brazen barrel, and swinging the nose from right to left till he brought the gun to bear squarely on the white speck that was the pirate sloop, still hull-down in the sea ahead. "Come morning, Polly, my gal," he chuckled, "we'll let you talk to 'em." As he spoke, the fiery disk of the sun was slipping into the ocean across the starboard bow. With sunset the breeze lightened perceptibly, and Job ordered the reefs shaken out of the fore and mainsails and an extra jib set. Then he and the boys, who, although they had quarters aft, had been assigned to the port watch, went below and turned in. CHAPTER XXXII Jeremy, stumbling on deck at eight bells, pulled his seaman's greatcoat up about his ears, for the breeze came cold. He worked his way forward along the high weather rail and took up his lookout station on the starboard bow. Overhead the midnight sky burned bright with stars that seemed to flicker like candle-flames in the wind. A half-grown moon rode down the west and threw a faint radiance across the heaving seas. It was blowing harder now. The wind boomed loud in the taut stays and the rising waves broke smashingly over the bow at times, forcing the foremast hands to cling like monkeys to the rail and rigging. Captain Job, with Tom to help him, stood grimly at the thrashing tiller and drove the sloop southwestward at a terrific gait. The sails had been single-reefed again during the mate's watch, but with the wind still freshening the staunch little craft was carrying an enormous amount of canvas. Job Howland was a sailor of the breed that was to reach its climax a hundred years later in the captains of the great Yankee clippers--men who broke sailing records and captured the world's trade because they dared to walk their tall ships, full-canvassed, past the heavy foreign merchantmen that rolled under triple reefs in half a gale of wind. One by one the hours of the watch went by. Jeremy, drenched and shivering, but thrilling to the excitement of the chase, stuck to his post at the rail beside the long bow gun. His eyes were fixed constantly on the sea ahead and abeam, while his thoughts, racing on, followed the pirate schooner close. How was Bob to be gotten off alive, he wondered, for he had come to believe that his chum was aboard the fleeing craft. If it came to a running fight, their cannonade might sink her, in which case the boy would be drowned along with his captors. And there were other things that could happen. Jeremy groaned aloud as he thought of the fate that Pharaoh Daggs had once so nearly meted out to him. He felt again the bite of the hemp at his wrists, and saw that pitiless gleam in the strange light eyes of the pirate. Would Daggs try to settle his long score against the boys by some unheard-of brutality? A sudden hail cut in upon his thoughts. "Sail ho!" the lookout on the other side had cried. "Where away?" came Job's deep shout. "Three points on the port bow," answered the seaman, "an' not above a league off!" Jeremy, straining his eyes into the night, made out the dim patch of sail ahead. "How's she headed?" called the Captain again. "Is she still on her port tack, or running before the wind?" "Still beating up to the west!" the sailor replied. "Good," cried Job. "They think they can outsail us. Keep her in sight and sing out if you see her fall off the wind!" Half an hour later the watch was changed and Jeremy scrambled into his warm bunk for a few hours more sleep. It was broad daylight when he and Tom reached the deck once more and went eagerly forward to join the little knot of seamen in the bows. All eyes were turned toward the horizon, ahead, where the sails of the fleeing schooner loomed gray in the morning haze. The wind which had shifted a little to the north was still blowing stiffly, heeling both sloops over at a sharp angle. The _Tiger_ had gained somewhat during the morning watch, but the pirates had now evidently become desperate and put on all the sail their craft would carry, so that the two vessels sped on, league after league, without apparent change of position. Job, who had now taken the tiller again, called to Jeremy after a while. "Here, lad," he said, when the boy reached the poop, "lend me a hand with this kicker." Jeremy laid hold with a will, and found that it took almost all his strength, along with that of the powerful Captain, to hold the schooner on her course. At times, when a big beam sea caught her, she would yaw fearfully, falling off several points, and could only be brought back to windward by jamming the thrashing rudder hard over. "We lose headway when she does that, don't we, Job?" panted the boy after one such effort. "And I reckon we couldn't lash the beam fast to keep her this way, could we? No, I see, it has to be free so as to move all the time. Still----" As he staggered to and fro at the end of the tiller, the boy thought rapidly. Finally he recommenced: "Job--this may sound foolish to you--but why couldn't we lash her on both sides, and yet give her play--look--this way! Rig a little pulley here and one here----" He indicated places on the deck, close to the rail on either quarter. "Then reeve a line from the tiller-end through each one, and bring it back with three or four turns around a windlass drum, a little way for'ard, there. Then you could keep hold of the arms of the windlass, and only let the tiller move as much as you needed to, either way----" "By the Great Bull Whale," Job laughed, as he grasped the boy's plan, "I wonder if that wouldn't work! Jeremy, boy, we'll find out, anyhow. Braisted!" he called to the ship's carpenter, "up with some lumber and a good stout line and a pair of spare blocks if you've got them. Lively, now!" In a jiffy the carpenter had tumbled the tackle out on the deck, and under the direction of Job, began to rig it according to Jeremy's scheme. It was a matter of a few moments only, once he caught the idea. When at length the final stout knot had been tied, Job, still keeping his mighty clutch on the tiller beam, motioned to Jeremy to take hold of the windlass. The boy jumped forward eagerly and seized two of the rude spokes that radiated horizontally from the hub. The position was an awkward one, but with a slight pull he found that he could swing the windlass rapidly in either direction. "Avast there--avast!" came Job's bass bellow, and looking over his shoulder, Jeremy saw the big skipper flung from side to side in spite of himself as the windlass was turned. The seamen who had gathered to watch were roaring with laughter, and Job himself was chuckling as he let go the tiller and hurried to Jeremy's side. Taking a grip on the spokes, he spun them back and forth once or twice, to feel how the vessel answered her helm under this new contraption, and in a moment had it working handsomely. He was using the first ship's steering-wheel. The sloop, which had yawed and lost some headway during this interlude, now struck her stride again, and drove along with her nose held steady, a full half-point closer to the wind than had been possible before. Job perceived this and loosed one hand long enough to strike Jeremy a mighty blow on the back. "She works, boy!" he cried. "And at this gait we'll catch them before noon!" Indeed, the crew had already noticed the difference in their sailing, and were lining the bows, waving their caps in the air and yelling with excitement as they watched the distance between the two craft slowly shorten. An hour passed, and the gunners were sent below to make ready their pieces, for the lead of the pirate sloop had been cut to a bare mile. Job had turned the wheel over to Hawkes, and now, with three picked men to help him, was ramming home a heavy charge of powder in the long "nine." On top of it he drove down the round-shot, then bent above the swivel-breach, swinging it back and forth as he brought the cannon's muzzle to bear on the topsails of the pirate schooner, whose black hull was now plainly visible. He sniffed the wind and measured the distance with his eye. When his calculations were complete he turned and held up his hand in signal to the helmsman. As the swivel allowed movement only from side to side, he must depend on the cant of the deck for his elevation. Holding the long gunner's match lighted in his hand, he waited for the exact second when the schooner's bow was lifted on a wave and swinging in the right direction, then touched the powder train. There was a hiss and flare, and at the end of a second or two a terrific roar as the charge was fired. The smoke was blown clear almost instantly, and every one leaned forward, watching the sea ahead with tense eagerness. At length a column of white spray lifted, a scant hundred yards astern of the other sloop. The crew cheered, for it was a splendid shot at that distance and in a seaway. The sky was thickening to windward, and it grew harder momentarily to see objects at a distance. Job was already at work, superintending the swabbing-out of the gun and reloading with his own hands. There was a long moment while he waited for a favorable chance, then "Long Poll" shook the deck once more with the crash of her discharge. This time the shot fell just ahead and to windward of the enemy--so close that the spray blew back into the rigging. Job had bracketed his target, but the mist-clouds that were sweeping past rendered his task a difficult one. Grimly but with swift certainty of movement he went about his preparations for a third attempt. Suddenly there was a shout from Jeremy, who had climbed into the forestays for a better view. "Look there!" he cried. "They're lowering a boat. There's something white in it, like a flag of truce!" In the lee of the pirate vessel a small boat could be seen tossing crazily in the heavy seas. Job, who had called for his spyglass, looked long and earnestly at the tiny craft. "There's but one man in it," he announced at length, "and he's showing a bit of something white, as Jeremy says. Here, lad, you've the best eyes on the sloop, see if you can make out more." The boy focussed the glass on the little boat, which was now drifting rapidly to the southeast, already nearly opposite their bows. The figure in it stood up, waving frantic arms to one side and the other. "It's Bob!" Jeremy almost screamed. "That's a signal we used to have when we were hunting. It means 'Come here!'" He had hardly finished speaking when--"Port your helm!" roared Job. "All hands stand by to slack the fore and main sheets!" [Illustration: Job had bracketed his target.] The _Tiger_ fell off the wind with a lurch and spun away to leeward, bowing into the running seas. Five minutes later they hauled Bob, drenched and dripping, to the deck. CHAPTER XXXIII The boy was pale and haggard and so weak he could hardly stand alone, but he looked about him with an eager grin as Tom and Jeremy helped him toward the companion. "Why," he gasped, "here's old Job! What's he doing up here!" as the latter strode aft to seize his hand. "Ay, lad," laughed the big mariner, a mighty relief showing in his face, "we're all your friends aboard here. But how came those devils to let you off so easy? We figured we'd have to fight to get you, and mighty lucky to do it at that!" The schooner had come into the wind again and was heading westward in pursuit of the pirate, now hidden in the murk ahead. Bob was helped to the cabin and propped up in a bunk while his friends hastened to get some dry clothes on him. A pull of brandy stopped his shivering. "I thought none of you would ever see me alive," he said soberly. "But, Job, before I tell you all about it, are you sure you've lost sight of Daggs' sloop? They were worried about your shooting, and figured the only chance they had was to set me adrift and then get away in the dirty weather, while you were fishing me out. They'd never have given me up if that second shot hadn't mighty near gone through and through the old _Revenge_." "The _Revenge_!" said Job. "I thought I knew the cut of that big mainsail, and she was painted black, too! Well, their trick succeeded. Just this minute we'd have no more chance of finding 'em than a needle in a haystack. But it may clear again before night, and then we'll see! Go ahead now and spin your yarn, my lad!" And Bob, swigging hot tea and munching a biscuit, began once more to tell his story. "After we separated, and started to run, up on the hill that night," he said, "I seemed to lose all my sense of direction for a while. I was scared for one thing, I'll freely admit. When I saw Daggs' face in the torchlight leaning over us, there by the treasure barrel, it frightened me pretty nearly out of my senses. So I started to run, without an idea of where I was going, and by the time I got my wits back, I couldn't tell just where I was, in the rain and the dark. I seemed to be right on top of the ridge, but I had zig-zagged several times, I remembered, and when I tried to figure which side of the hill I should go down, I couldn't for the life of me decide. Finally I said to myself, 'Here, don't be a fool! Which way was the wind blowing when we set out from the shack? Aha, it was north,' says I. 'Very well, then, this must be the way to the cabin--straight into the wind,' And down the hill I started, bearing over to my right, so as to come out just above the sheep-pen." "But--" interrupted Jeremy, "when that storm came up the wind backed clear round into the south--" "I know it now," Bob answered, "but I didn't then. I kept right on, tickled that I was out of it so well, and wondering where the rest of you had gotten to. Pretty soon I came to some low land that I didn't remember, but I saw a light off ahead and to my right, and decided that was the cabin. I blundered along through the trees till I was quite close, and then I discovered that the light came from a bonfire. I stopped for a second, puzzled, for I was sure I must be near the cabin. I wondered if the pirates had captured it. I stole up still closer and watched the light and presently a buccaneer walked in front of it. "That was enough for me. I turned and started to run. And at about the third step I fell plump into the arms of a pirate. You see I had walked straight toward their part of the island by making that silly mistake. "This fellow got a grip on my collar, and I couldn't break loose, though I'll warrant his shins are tender yet, where I kicked him. He hauled me down to the fire, and he and three others who were there looked me over. The one that had caught me was a big mulatto--as ugly-looking a customer as I ever saw. And the others were no lambs. I'll tell you, my hearties, Daggs has gathered up a pretty lot of rascals in this crew. Not one of 'em but looks as if he'd knife you for a copper farthing! "These four by the fire wasted no time, but went through my pockets in a hurry. They took my pistol and were quarreling about dividing the goldpieces I had, when the rest of the crowd began to appear. They were all wet, and in a bad temper for a dozen other reasons. Plenty of curses came my way, but no one laid a hand on me, for they had a mighty fear of Pharaoh Daggs. When he finally came, he swore at them till they slunk around like whipped curs. "He was in an ugly mood that night. Seemingly he was disappointed in the amount of treasure they had found. Besides that, they had come on one of their best men with his head beaten in, and you and your father had gotten clean away. Things looked black enough for me, I can tell you. "Daggs and the mulatto, who is his mate, started in to question me, after they had grumbled awhile. They knew already how many of you there were at the cabin, but they asked about your guns and supplies. Of course, I didn't make the stronghold any weaker in the telling. When they had all the information they thought they could get out of me, they held a sort of council. Some wanted to go right over before light and attack the cabin. Others were for broaching a barrel of rum first, and making thorough preparations. Finally Daggs decided to put it off until they could get some pitch and dry grass ready, so as to set fire to the roof. "It was nearly daylight by this time, and they started back through the reeds toward their sloop, leading me along with them. We travelled half a mile or so, down a crooked black trail only wide enough for one man at a time, and ankle deep in the mud of the swamp. When we reached the schooner they stuck a pair of handcuffs on me and put me down on the ballast. In spite of the filth and the cold I was so dog-tired that I tumbled on the nearest pile of old chains and went to sleep. "I woke up late in the afternoon, and I don't think I was ever so stiff and uncomfortable and hungry in my life. I made my way over to the hatch and found I could reach the combing with my hands, so I pulled myself up, after a mighty hard tussle. Try it some time with your hands tied! "Most of the pirates were forward in their bunks, but one who was keeping watch on deck took pity on me and gave me a couple of biscuits and a swig of water. He was more or less talkative, besides, and from him I learned that Daggs planned to start about midnight for your side of the island, carrying buckets of pitch and tinder, so as to roast you out. "As you may imagine, this kind of talk nearly turned me sick with fear, and right in the midst of it Pharaoh Daggs came on deck. "He had that empty sort of glare in his eyes that we used to see sometimes when he was drunk. Of course, he walked straight and even, but as he came over toward us, with his teeth showing and his eyes fixed on a point just above the pirate's shoulder, I almost yelled 'Look out!' If I had, it might have cost me my life right there. He walked along, light on his toes like a cat, till he stood two feet from us. Then, so fast I hardly knew what happened, he hit the other man on the chin with his fist. That was all. The man dropped with his head back against the rail. And Daggs went off, chuckling to himself but not making any noise. I don't think he saw me at all, for his attack was more like the work of a mad dog than of a man. "I crept away and got below decks as fast as might be, and there I stayed hidden till after dark, when some of the buccaneers rousted me out. A keg of rum had been opened in the waist, and the liquor was going freely. Most of the crew were already drunk, but they had the sense to chain me by one leg to the foremast, and then made me run back and forth between them and the barrel. I was only too glad. No cannikin was skimped while I was at the spigot. I looked around and remembered some of the wild nights we had seen on the old _Revenge_. And then for the first time I realized that the deck I stood on was the same! They'd gotten hold of the old black sloop when she was auctioned at Charles Town, patched up her bottom and here she was--buccaneering once more! Where the gang of cut-throats aboard her were gathered, I don't know, but they put Stede Bonnet's famous crew to shame. "Pharaoh Daggs was somewhere ashore with two of the crew till nearly midnight. When he returned, the rest were lying like pigs about the deck. He had sobered slightly--enough to remember the night's undertaking--but it was useless to think of rousing those sots to any sort of endeavor. He kicked one or two of them savagely with his heavy boot, too, but it got hardly more than a grunt from them. "He stood there cursing for a minute, then came over and looked at the shackle that held me to the foremast-foot, and shook it to make sure it was solid before he went below. He had something done up in a cloth that he held mighty tenderly, and he seemed in a better humor. "I curled up on the deck and by wrapping myself in a greatcoat which I found beside one of the drunken pirates, succeeded in keeping reasonably warm. "When morning came Daggs and his mulatto mate managed to wake most of the men and forced them to get out and forage for wood and water, while they themselves crossed the ridge to reconnoitre. I think it was about two hours after sunrise when those of us who stayed aboard the sloop saw figures running down the hill. The buccaneers got out boarding-pikes and picked up cutlasses, but in a moment Daggs reached the side, out of breath with his haste. "'There's a ten-gun schooner in the northern cove!' he cried. 'They're landing a boat now. We haven't any time to lose--the tide's past full already! Cut those moorings!' "The hemp lines were slashed through with cutlasses and the men, with one accord, jumped to the push-holes. The sloop was on an even keel and just off the bottom. A few strong shoves started her down the creek. "My hopes of escaping began to go down, for there I was, still chained to the fore-stick like a cow put out to grass. I looked around me in desperation, for I wanted to leave you some sign at least of my whereabouts. Then my eye fell on a little heap of small arms that had been thrown down near the forehatch. The pistols were useless to me, as I had no powder, but among them I saw the bright silver mountings of my own--the one that used to be Stede Bonnet's. "We were drawing near the creek mouth, and those of the crew who were not at the poles were busy unfurling the sails. I picked the pistol up unobserved and waited till we were just hauling clear of the creek. Then I threw it overside and saw it strike in the mud. Did you find it?" "Yes," said Jeremy. "That's how we knew for certain that you'd been captured." "Well," the Delaware boy went on, "there's not much more to tell. The pirates made all sail to the southwest, but after we cleared the islands, there you were, roaring along in our wake. Daggs thought that the _Revenge_ was a faster sailer than your craft, but he found he couldn't keep her as close to the wind on this tack. I don't think he wants to fight if he can help it, but he was getting desperate this afternoon before the weather began to thicken up. I heard him tell the mate he'd rather come to broadside grips than risk having you drop a shot through the black sloop's bottom with that bowchaser. Then the mist started to come over, and I guess Daggs saw his chance right away. He called the crew aft and told them what he was going to do, and a moment later I found myself being lowered in a boat into that wicked sea. I thought they were trying to drown me out of hand, till they gave me a piece of white cloth to wave. Then I got an inkling of their idea. "Sure enough, no sooner was I fairly adrift than I saw you put over in my direction, and thinking Jeremy might be aboard, I gave him our old signal. It worked, and here I am safe enough. But meanwhile those devils have got off into the mist, and it'll be hard to follow them." Job sat thoughtful, pulling at his pipe. He seemed to be cogitating some of the points in Bob's narrative, and the others kept silent, unwilling to interrupt him. At length he blew a great cloud of blue smoke toward the deck-beams above and turning to the boy, asked, "Did Daggs or any of the rest ever speak of the place where they were going?" "They never talked about it openly," Bob replied, "but from words dropped now and then by the mulatto mate I figured they were heading down for the Spanish Islands. I don't think they intend putting in anywhere first, unless they land for water in one of those out of the way inlets along the Jersey coast." Job nodded. "That's about as I thought," he answered. "So we'll hold on this tack till nightfall--we're just off the Kennebec, now--and then we'll run sou'-sou'east before the wind, to clear Cape Cod. Daggs--if he figgers as I would in his place--won't start to leeward right away, for he'd rather have us in front of him than behind. And unless I'm much mistaken he's in too much of a hurry to waste time in doubling back up the coast. All right Bob, lad, you'll be wanting sleep now, so we'll leave you. On deck with you, boys!" And tucking the blankets about the drowsy youngster in the bunk, Job led the way to the companion. CHAPTER XXXIV The mist was sweeping past in swirls and streaks, and though the wind had abated somewhat, the _Tiger_ still ploughed along into the obscurity at a fair rate of speed. Jeremy stayed forward with the lookout, peering constantly into the gloom ahead, and half expecting to see the ghostlike sails of the _Revenge_ whenever for a moment a gray aisle opened in the mist. But there were only the grim, uneasy seas and the shifting fog. Before darkness fell Job shortened sail, for he did not wish to get too far ahead of the enemy. And about the end of the second dog watch he gave the order to slack sheets and fall away for the southward run. The wind turned bitterly cold in the night, and when the watch was changed Tom and Jeremy staggered below, glad to escape from the stinging snow that filled the air. But with that snow-flurry the weather cleared. The sun rose to a day of bright blue water and sharp wind, and hardly had its first level rays shot across the ocean floor when the watch below was tumbled out by a chorus of shouts from the deck. Jeremy, as he burst upward through the hatchway, cast an eager eye to either beam, then uttered a whoop of joy, as he caught the gleam of white canvas over the bows. There, straight ahead and barely a league distant, raced the _Revenge_ and her pirate crew. Captain Job reached the deck only a couple of jumps behind the boys, and an instant later his deep voice boomed the order to shake out all reefs and set the top-sails. Bob, who had slept the clock around and eaten a hearty breakfast, soon appeared at Jeremy's side, looking fit for any adventure. With Tom they went up into the bows and were shortly joined there by others of the crew, all intent on the chase. The swells as they surged by from stern to bow seemed to move more and more sluggishly. Beneath a press of sail that would have made most skippers fearful of running her under, Job was driving the _Tiger_ along at a terrific pace. Now once more Jeremy's steering-wheel was proving its worth. Job at the helm could hold the plunging schooner on her course with far less danger of being swung over into the trough than would have been the case with the old hand tiller. But in spite of the schooner's headlong speed, the distance between her and her quarry seemed to lessen scarcely at all. The old _Revenge_ with her tall sticks and great spread of canvas was flying down before the wind with all the speed that had made her name a byword, and the man with the broken nose was evidently willing to take as many chances as his pursuers. All morning the chase went on. At noon, when the winter sun flashed on the high white dunes of Cape Cod, to starboard, the _Tiger_ seemed to have gained a little. Job, leaving the wheel for a bit, came forward and measured the distance with his eye. He shook his head. "Two miles," he said. "At this rate we can't get within range before dark." And he went back to his steering. But for once he was mistaken. For an hour or more the buccaneers had been hauling over little by little toward the coast, possibly with the idea of running in and escaping overland as soon as night should fall. Now the lookout in the foretop of the _Tigers_ gave a cheer. "They've caught a flaw in the wind!" he shouted. "Watch us come up!" Sure enough the _Revenge_ had sailed into an area of light air to leeward of the Cape, and the boys could see that their own sloop, which still had the wind, was hauling up hand over hand on her adversary. "By the Great Bull Whale!" roared Job, leaping forward along the deck, "now's our chance! Hold her as she is, Hawkes, while I load the long gun." The big gunner-captain worked rapidly as always, but before he had done ramming down the round-shot, the pirate schooner was within range for a long-distance try. She lay off the _Tiger's_ starboard bow, almost broadside on, but still too far away to use her own guns. Job aimed with his usual care, but when at length he put a match to the powder, the shot flew harmlessly through the pirate's rigging, striking the sea beyond. Almost at the same moment the wind drew strongly in the sails of the _Revenge_ once more, and she began plunging southward at a breakneck pace. Job ran aft for a word with the mate, who had the wheel, then returned and again loaded the bowchaser, this time with chainshot and an extra heavy charge of powder to carry it. When he had finished he stood by the breach in grim silence, watching the chase. It soon became apparent that though the _Tiger_ could gain little on her rival in actual headway, she was gradually pulling over closer to the quarter of the _Revenge_. Hawkes, who was an excellent seaman, humored the craft to starboard, bit by bit, without sacrificing her forward speed. At the end of twenty minutes Job gave a satisfied grunt, maneuvered the cannon back and forth on its swivel base once or twice, and fired. Above the roar of the discharge the boys heard the screech of the whirling chainshot, and then in the _Revenge's_ mainsail appeared a great gaping rent, through the tattered edges of which the wind passed unhindered. There was a howl of joy from the crew, and without waiting for an order, they tumbled pell-mell down the hatches to man the broadside cannon in the waist. Job stayed on deck, watching the enemy through his spy-glass. Handicapped by her torn mainsail, the _Revenge_ was already falling abeam. When they had hauled up to within five or six hundred yards of her, Job called the men of the port watch on deck to shorten sail. This done, and the two sloops holding on southward at about an even gait, the Captain took a turn below, where he looked at each of the guns, gave a few sharp orders and ran back to his station on the after deck. "All ready, Hawkes," he called, "bring us up to within a hundred and fifty fathoms of her!" The mate spun the wheel to starboard, and the schooner, answering, drew nearer to the enemy. "Close enough--port your helm," cried Job. But even as the _Tiger_ swung into position for a broadside, there came the roar of the pirate's guns, and a shot crashed through the forestays, while others, falling short, threw spray along the deck. "All right below," shouted Captain Job, steady as a church. "Ready a starboard broadside!" And at his sharp "Fire!" the five cannon spoke in quick succession. The deck rocked beneath Jeremy's feet, where he stood by the companion, ready to carry Job's orders below. As the dense smoke was swept away forward on the wind, they could see the _Revenge_, her rigging still further damaged by the volley, going about on the starboard tack, and making straight for the shore. "Put your helm hard down and bring her to the wind!" roared Job, at the same time jumping toward the mainsheet. The schooner swung to starboard, heeling sharply as she caught the wind abeam, and was in hot pursuit of her enemy before a full minute had passed. CHAPTER XXXV Little by little the _Tiger_ pulled up to windward of the buccaneer and the men below in the gun deck could be heard cheering as their advance brought the black sloop more and more nearly opposite the yawning mouths of the _Tiger's_ port carronades. The shore was now less than half a mile distant. Though making all possible speed, the pirate schooner seemed to rise on the waves with a more sluggish heave than before. Job, watching her through the spyglass, turned to Isaiah Hawkes. "Don't she look sort o' soggy to you?" he asked. "I can't quite make out whether that's a hole in her planking or--by the Great Hook Block! See there, now, when she lifts! One of our shots landed smack on her waterline. No wonder they're trying to beach her!" A moment later the _Tiger_ had hauled fairly abreast and the two schooners plunged along a bare hundred yards apart. Not a head showed above the high weather bulwark of the _Revenge_. Only the muzzles of her guns peered grimly from their ports in her black side. There was something sinister about this apparently deserted ship, lurching drunkenly shoreward, with her torn sails and broken rigging flapping in the breeze, and the pirate flag flying at her peak. Job made a megaphone of his hands and raised his voice in a hail. "Ahoy, _Revenge_!" he boomed. "Will you surrender peacefully, and haul down that flag?" There was silence for a full ten seconds. Then a musket cracked and a bullet imbedded itself in the mainmast by Job's head. "All right, boys," he said, without moving, "let 'em have it! Ready, port battery? Fire!" Jeremy and Bob, clinging side by side to the hatch-combing, felt the planking quiver under them at the series of mighty discharges, and saw the pirate schooner check and stagger like an animal that has received its death wound. Only one of her guns was able to reply, the round-shot screaming high and wide. But on she went, and the steep beach below the dunes was very close now. Captain Job stood by the hatchway. "All hands up, ready to board her," he ordered, and the crew, swarming on deck, ran to their places by the longboat amidships. The _Tiger_ was now in very shallow water, but Job waited till he saw the other craft strike. Then, "Bring her head to the wind, Hawkes!" he cried, "And over with the boat, lads! Lively now, or they'll get ashore!" Hardly was the order given when the boat shot into the water. During the scramble of the seamen for places on her thwarts, Jeremy and Bob jumped down and crouched in the bows, unseen by any but those nearest them. Ten seconds after she hit the waves the boat was filled from gunwale to gunwale with sailors, armed to the teeth with pistols, cutlasses and boarding-pikes. Job, last to leave the deck, spoke a word to Hawkes, who remained in command, and jumped into the sternsheets. "Now, give way!" he roared. The eight stout oars lashed through the water and the boat sped shoreward like an arrow. Up in the bows the two boys clutched their weapons and waited. Neither one would have admitted that he was scared, though they were both shivering with something more than the cold. Besides his precious pistol, Bob was gripping the hilt of a murderous-looking hanger, which he had picked up from the pile on deck in passing. Jeremy had been able to secure no weapon but a short pike with a heavy ashen staff and a knife-like blade at the upper end. They peered over the bows in silence. The longboat was close to the _Revenge's_ quarter now, but there was no sign of the pirates along her rail. "Suppose they've got ashore?" asked Bob. "I don't see--" "Down heads all!" It was Job's voice, and the boys together with many of the seamen ducked instinctively at the words. As they did so there came a crash of musketry, followed by intermittent shots, and splinters flew from the gunwale of the boat. Jeremy heard a gasping cry behind him and a young sailor toppled backward from the thwart. He fell between the boys, and as they raised him in their arms he died. Another seaman had been killed and three more wounded by the pirate volley, which had been fired from a distance of barely a dozen yards. Seeing the effect of their fusillade, the buccaneers rose cheering and yelling from behind the bulwarks of the sloop in the evident belief that they had succeeded in demoralizing the attacking force. But the speed of the boat had hardly been checked. In another instant the rowers shipped their oars and the gunwale scraped along the free-board of the schooner. "A guinea to the first man up!" cried Job, himself reaching up with powerful fingers for a grip by which to climb. There were no rope-ends hanging, and as the _Revenge_ in her stranded position lay much higher forward than aft, the boys, standing in the bows, found themselves faced by smooth planking too high to scale. Jeremy started back over the thwarts, but heard Bob calling to him and turned. "Here's a place to board!" the Delaware boy was saying, and pointed toward the forward gun-port which stood open just beyond and above the bow of the longboat. In a twinkling Bob had straddled through the hole, with Jeremy close after him. It was dark in the 'tween-decks and the two boys made their way forward on tiptoe, waiting breathlessly for the attack they felt sure would come. But apparently all the buccaneers were busy above in the fierce fight that they could hear raging along the rail. They moved on, undeterred, till they reached the foot of the fo'c's'le ladder, where Jeremy feeling along the bulkhead, uttered an exclamation. "This is their gun-rack," he said. "And here's a musket all loaded and primed! I'll take it along!" The hatch cover had been drawn to, but Bob, trying it from beneath, decided it was not fastened. Both boys tugged at it and succeeded in sliding it back an inch or two, where it stuck. The hubbub on deck was now terrific. They could hear, above the general outcry, an occasional sharply gasped command in Job's voice, or a snarling oath from one of the buccaneers, but for the most part it was a bedlam of unintelligible shouts with a constant undertone of ringing steel and the thud of shifting feet. Most of the firearms, apparently, had been discharged, and in the mêlée no one had time to reload. Bob, straining desperately at the hatch-cover, spied Jeremy's pike-shaft, and thrusting it through the narrow opening, pried with all his strength. The hatch squeaked open reluctantly and the boys squirmed through on to the deck. They gasped at the sight which met their eyes as they emerged. Both of them had confidently expected to find the pirates already beaten, and fighting with their backs to the wall. But such was far from being the case. On the deck amidships lay two men from the _Tiger_, sorely wounded, while Job and two others stood at bay above them, swinging cutlasses mightily, and beating off, time after time, the attacks of a dozen fierce pirate hanger-men. A number of buccaneers had fallen but all who were unwounded were raging like a pack of dogs about the figures of Job and his two supporters. "They can't get up!" cried Bob, "The men can't climb the side! Here, help me bring that rope!" It was a matter of seconds only before the boys had dashed across the deck and thrown a rope's end to the men below in the longboat. Then Jeremy turned and ran toward the waist. Another man was down now. Job and a single comrade were fighting back to back, parrying with red blades the blows of half a score of the enemy. Jeremy saw a gleam of yellow teeth between wicked lips, and a flash of light eyes in the thick of the assault. Then for a moment he had a glimpse of the whole face of Pharaoh Daggs, scarred and distorted with frightful passion--a cruel wolf's face--and even as he looked, the dripping sword-blade of the man with the broken nose plunged between the ribs of Job's last henchman. The wounded seaman staggered, leaning his weight against his captain, but still kept his guard up, defending himself feebly. Job hooked his left arm about the poor lad's body and backed with his burden toward the mainmast, slashing fiercely around him with his tireless right arm the while. When they reached the mast, Job leaned his comrade against it, set his own back to the wood, and battled on. But now a cheer resounded, and the buccaneers, turning their heads, found themselves face to face with the rush of half a dozen men from the _Tiger_, while more could be seen swarming over the rail. The knot of pirates broke to meet the attack, but some of them stayed. Daggs and three others, including the huge mulatto mate, closed in on Job, cutting at him savagely. The wounded sailor had fainted and slipped to the deck. Jeremy saw the saddle-colored mate step swiftly to one side, then come up from behind the mast, drawing a long dirk from his sash as he neared Job's back. He had lifted the knife and was stepping in for a blow, when Jeremy pulled the trigger of his musket. There must have been an extra heavy charge of powder in the gun, for its recoil threw the boy flat on the deck, and before he could regain his feet he saw a man close above him and caught the flash of a hanger in the air. Desperately Jeremy rolled out of the way, and none too soon, for the blade cut past his head with a nasty _swish_. He scrambled up and caught a boarding-pike from the deck as he did so. The pirate followed, hacking at him with his cutlass, and for seconds that seemed like hours the boy fought for his life, parrying one stroke after another, till the pike shaft was broken by the blows, and he was left weaponless. As he ducked and turned in despair, a man from the _Tiger_ ran in and caught the buccaneer on his flank, finishing him in short order. The deck was now full of struggling groups, for though a score of the longboat's crew had climbed aboard, the pirates were putting up a fierce resistance. Jeremy, panting from his encounter, cast about for a weapon and soon found a cutlass, with which he armed himself. He turned toward the mainmast foot once more, and to his joy discovered that his shot had taken effect. The mulatto had disappeared under the trampling mass of fighting men, and Job's tall figure still towered by the mast. It took the lad only a second, however, to realize that his Captain's plight was serious. The big Yankee was fighting wearily with a broken cutlass, and his face was gray beneath the red stream of blood that ran from a wound above his eye. Jeremy plunged into the ruck of the battle, careless now of danger. A sort of berserk rage possessed him at the sight of that wound. He hewed his way frantically toward the mast, and suddenly found Bob there beside him, cutting and lunging like a demon. He gasped out a cheer. But even as it left his throat, the Captain's arm flew up convulsively, then dropped out of sight in the mob. "Job's down!" cried Bob wildly, but the New England boy's only reply was a half-choked sob. Now the tables were turned of a sudden, for three stout sea-dogs from the _Tiger_, finishing their first opponents, dashed into the fray with a yell, and Daggs, hewing his way to the mast, turned to face the new attack with only two men left on foot to back him. The fight was short and fierce. First one, then the other of the buccaneers went down before the furious assault of Job's seamen. At length only the pirate chief was left to battle on, terrible and silent, his face set in a ghastly grin, like the visage of a lone wolf fighting his last fight. But the odds were too great. The men of the _Tiger_ pressed in relentlessly till at last a dozen sword-points found their mark at once. And so died Pharaoh Daggs, violently, as he had lived. CHAPTER XXXVI It was Jeremy who, five minutes later, held Job's head on his knees, while the weary, bleeding sailors stood silently by with their hats off. The bo's'n, a grizzled veteran of many sea-fights, was kneeling beside his Captain with an ear to his side. There was hope in the man's face when at length he looked up. "He's breathin' yet," was his verdict, "breathin', but not much more. There's half a score of cuts in him, different places. Here, lads, rig a stretcher, an' let's get him back to the ship." When the unconscious body of their big friend had been placed gently in the boat, Bob and Jeremy turned to each other with sober faces. "It was a costly sort of victory," said Bob. "This deck's not a pretty sight, and there's nothing much we can do to help. Let's have a look at the cabin." They went below and forced open the door of the after compartment, which had once housed the great Stede Bonnet. Instead of its old immaculate and almost scholarly appearance, the place now had an air of desolation. It reeked of filth, stale tobacco-smoke, and the spilled lees of liquor. In the clutter on the cabin table lay two bulging sacks and a small box. "Well," said Bob, as he felt the weight of one of the bags, "here's the rest of Brig's gold!" But Jeremy's attention was occupied. He had picked up the box from the table and was examining it curiously. "See here, Bob," he cried, "this is the little chest I was carrying the night we ran through the woods. I dropped it when that pirate tackled me. What do you suppose is in it?" The box was leather-covered and heavily studded with nails. Jeremy tried the small padlock and found it rusty and weak. A hard pull on the staple and it came away in his hand. He threw open the cover and the two boys stood back, gasping with astonishment. There on the lining of soft buckskin lay twelve great emeralds, gleaming with a clear green light even in that dark place. They were perfectly matched and as large as the end of a man's thumb, each cut in a square pattern after the oldtime fashion. Such stones they were as could have come only from the coffers of an oriental king--the ransom, perhaps, of a prince of the blood, or of the favorite wife of some Maharajah, seized in one of Solomon Brig's daredevil raids. Bob found breath at last. "It's a fortune!" he cried. "They're worth more than all the gold together! And they're yours, Jeremy--yours by right of discovery twice over. You're rich--you and your father and Tom! Think of it! You can buy a whole fleet of big ships like the _Indian Queen_, and become a great merchant. You and I'll be partners when we're grown up!" Jubilant, he picked up one of the sacks of gold and made his way to the deck, followed by the half-dazed Jeremy, who carried the rest of the treasure. The sun was close to setting when the _Tiger's_ boat made its last trip to the pirate sloop. This time its errand was a sad one. Silently the crew passed long, limp bundles across the rail, rowed with them to the beach, and clambered up the desolate dunes with picks and shovels in their hands. There, where the wind moaned in the beach-plum thickets and the white gulls wheeled and screamed, they dug a long grave and laid the dead to rest, pirates and honest men together under the wintry sky. The boat returned and was hoisted aboard. Just as the mainsail had been run up and the schooner was filling away for her northward beat, a single shout from the crosstrees caused every man to turn his gaze shoreward into the gathering dark. A faint glow seemed to hang in the air above the pirate sloop. A little snaky flame wriggled its way along a piece of sagging cordage, licked at the edges of a torn sail, and flared outward in a burst of red fire. A moment later, and the whole schooner was ablaze, from waterline to masthead. Jeremy, watching, fascinated, from the _Tiger's_ rail, thought of the night when he had first seen that black hull, and of the burning brig that had lit up the sky as the pirate sloop now illumined it. Her fate was the same that she had meted out to many a good ship. They were rapidly drawing away, now. The great glare of the burning schooner faded out as the flame devoured her fabric. The foremast toppled and fell in a shower of sparks. The mainmast followed. Only a feeble light flickered along the edges of the low-lying hulk. The faint gleam of it was visible, astern, for some time before it was swallowed by the dark sea. The _Revenge_ was gone. * * * * * This is the end of my story. Of the voyage to Boston town; of how Job was nursed back to health by Phineas Whipple, the best surgeon in all the colonies; of the glorious reunion when Amos Swan and Clarke Curtis rejoined their sons; of the many pleasant things that Bob and Jeremy found to do together, after the Swans had come to live in Philadelphia--of all these things there is not space enough in this book for me to tell. Jeremy Swan grew up to be one of the great Americans of his day: a man strong, wise and independent. And although he became rich and highly honored, he never lost the simplicity of his ways. Sometimes when he was a hale old man of seventy, he would take his grandson, who was named Job Cantwell Swan, on his knee, and tell him stories. But the story that young Job loved best to hear and that old Jeremy loved best to tell was about a boy in deerskin breeches, and the wild days and nights he saw aboard the Black Buccaneer. THE END. Transcriber's Notes Page 43, 2nd paragraph - changed "broad-side" to "broadside" to match other instances Page 63, next to last line - added opening quote before "Herriot" Page 73, first line - corrected typo "priate" to "pirate" Page 88, 3rd paragraph - corrected typo "fidgetted" to "fidgeted" Page 91, 1st paragraph, next to last sentence - changed "a a man" to "a man" Page 102, second paragraph, 6th line - corrected typo "showly" to "slowly" Page 120, line 21 - added missing end quote at the end after "pirate." Page 164, 2nd paragraph, line 8 - added opening quote to "Daggs' chest!" Page 189, line 4 - corrected typo "somethinig" to "something" Page 196, last line - removed second "and" Page 231, 5th line from bottom - corrected typo "neck" to "deck" Page 268, 6th paragraph - changed "round-shot" to "roundshot" to match other instances Page 273, 2nd paragraph, line 2 - corrected typo "thmselves" to "themselves" 
57039	----	[Frontispiece: THEY MARCHED ... LIKE MEN WHO HAD LOST ALL INTEREST IN LIFE] PRINCE RUPERT THE BUCCANEER BY C. J. CUTCLIFFE HYNE WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY G. GRENVILLE MANTON THIRD EDITION METHUEN & CO. 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. LONDON First Published . . . April 1901 Second Edition . . . June 1901 Third Edition . . . . May 1907 TO E. C. H. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. The Pawning of the Fleet II. The Admission to the Brotherhood III. The Rape of the Spanish Pearls IV. The Ransoming of Caraccas V. The Passage-money VI. The Mermaid and the Act of Faith VII. The Galley VIII. The Regaining of the Fleet LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS They marched ... like men who had lost all interest in life . . . _Frontispiece_ Prince Rupert shone out like a very Paladin Then one Watkin, a man of iron and a mighty shooter, took the lead It would be a perpetual sunshine for me, Querida Master Laughan endeavoured to outdo them all in desperation and valour "Oh, I say what I think," retorted Watkin with a sour look The secretary was occupied in leading her own. There is no mistaking the manner of buccaneers returning well-laden PRINCE RUPERT THE BUCCANEER CHAPTER I THE PAWNING OF THE FLEET "Not slaves, your Highness," said the Governor. "We call them _engagés_ here: it's a genteeler style. The Lord General keeps us supplied." "I'll be bound he gave them the plainer name," said Prince Rupert. The Governor of Tortuga shrugged his shoulders. "On the bills of lading they are written as Malignants; but judging from the way he packed the last cargo, Monsieur Cromwell regards them as cattle. It is evident that he cared only to be shut of them. They were so packed that one half were dead and over the side before the ship brought up to her anchors in the harbour here. And what were left fetched but poor prices. There was a strong market too. The Spaniards had been making their raids on the hunters, and many of the _engagés_ had been killed: our hunters wanted others; they were hungry for others; but these poor rags of seaworn, scurvy-bitten humanity which offered, were hardly worth taking away to teach the craft--Your Highness neglects the cordial." "I am in but indifferent mood for drinking, Monsieur. It hangs in my memory that these poor rogues once fought most stoutly for me and the King. Cromwell was ever inclined to be iron-fisted with these Irish. Even when we were fighting him on level terms he hanged all that came into his hands, till he found us stringing up an equal number of his saints by way of reprisal. But now he has the kingdom all to himself, I suppose he can ride his own gait. But it is sad, Monsieur D'Ogeron, detestably sad. Irish though they were, these men fought well for the Cause." The Governor of Tortuga emptied his goblet and looked thoughtfully at its silver rim. "But I did not say they were Irish, _mon prince_. Four Irish kernes there were on the ship's manifest, but the scurvy took them, and they went overside before reaching here." "Scots then?" "There is one outlandish fellow who might be a Scot, or a Yorkshireman, or a Russian, or something like that. But no man could speak his lingo, and none would bid for him at the sale. You may have him as a present if you care, and if perchance he can be found anywhere alive on the island. No, your Highness, this consignment is all English; drafted from foot, horse, and guns: and a rarely sought-after lot they would have been, if whole. From accounts, they must have been all tried fighting men, and many had the advantage of being under your own distinguished command.--Your Highness, I beseech you shirk not the cordial. This climate creates a pleasing thirst, which we ought to be thankful for. The jack stands at your elbow." Prince Rupert looked out over the harbour, and the black ships, at the blue waters of the Carib sea beyond. "My poor fellows," he said, "my glorious soldiers, your loyalty has cost you dear." "It is the fortune of war," said D'Ogeron, sipping his goblet. "A fighting man must be ready to take what befalls. Our turn may come to-morrow." "I am ready, Monsieur, to take my chances. It is not on my conscience that I ever avoided them." "Your Highness is a philosopher, and I take it your officers are the same. Yesterday they rode with you boot to boot in the field, ate with you on the same lawn, spoke with you in council across the same drum-head. To-day they would be happy if they could be your lackeys. But the chance is not open to them; they are lackeys to the buccaneers." Prince Rupert started to his feet. "Officers, did you say?" "Just officers. The great Monsieur Cromwell has but wasteful and uncommercial ways of conducting a war. He captures a gentle and gallant officer; he does not ask if the poor man desires to be put up to ransom, but just claps the irons on him, and writes him for the next shipment to these West Indies, as though he were a common pikeman." The Governor toyed with his goblet and sighed regretfully--"'Twas a sheer waste of good hard money." "And you?" "We kept to the Lord General's classification, and sold gentle officer, and rude common soldier on the same footing. There was no other way. We were too far off your England here to treat profitably for ransom. Besides, the estates of most were wasted during the war, and what was left lay in Monsieur Cromwell's hands." "All the gentlemen of England are beggared. They sent their plate to the King's mint to be coined for the troops' pay; they pawned their lands; and now they are sent to be butcher-boys to horny-handed cow-killers. I think you have dealt harshly, Monsieur D'Ogeron." "It was your war," said the Governor good-humouredly, "not mine; and the harshness of it was out of my hands. The men were sent here, and I dealt with them in the most profitable way. If it would have paid me to weed out the officers, I should have done it. As it didn't, I e'en let them stay herded in with the rest." "But surely, Monsieur, you must have some regard for gentle blood?" "Mighty little, _mon prince_, mighty little. I had it once in the old days, in France; but I lost it out here. It's not in fashion. A quick eye and a lusty arm we value in Tortuga and Hispaniola more than all the titles a king could bestow. Gentility will not fill the belly here, neither will it ward off the Spaniards, neither will it despoil them of their ill-got treasure to provide the wherewithal for an honest carouse. What we value most is a little coterie of Brethren of the Coast sailing in with a deep fat ship, with their numbers few and their appetites whetted. To those we are ready to bow, as we did once in the old countries to knights and belted earls--till, that is, they have spent their gains." "And then?" "Why, then, _mon prince_, we are apt to grow uncivil till we see their sterns again as they go off to search the seas for more. Oh, I tell you, it's a different life here from the old one at home; and a rustling blade, if he can contrive to remain alive, soon makes his way to the top, be he gentle, or be he mere whelp of a seaport drab." "You state your policy with clearness. This is not known in France, and there, I make bold to say, Monsieur, it would not be liked." The Governor drank deeply. "Here's to France," quoth he, "and may she always stay a long way off! I'm my own master here, and have a strong place and a lusty following." "Stronger places have been taken," said the Prince. "Not if they were snugly guarded," said D'Ogeron. "I use my precautions. There are two entrances to this harbour, but only one channel. There are many bays, but only one anchorage. Your ships are in it now; my batteries command them." "Monsieur," said Rupert stiffly, "do you distrust me?" "Except for my own rogues, and you are not one of them----" "Thank God!" "Except for my own rogues, I trust no one." "Monsieur," said Rupert, "I am not in the habit of having my word doubted. I have had the honour to inform you before that I came in peace." "So have done others, and yet I have seen them bubble out with war when it suited their purpose." "Monsieur, you may have your own individual code of honour in these barbarous islands, but I still preserve mine. You have seen fit to put in question my honesty. I must ask you to call back your words, or stand by the consequences." The Governor winked a vinous eye. "You don't catch me fighting a duel," said he. "The honour of the thing we may leave out of the question: we don't deal in it here. And beyond that, I have all to lose and nothing to gain." "Monsieur," said the Prince, "you have your sword, and I have mine. I can force you either to fight or apologise." The Governor wagged his goblet slowly. "Neither one nor the other," said he. "Alphonse," he cried, raising his voice, "haul across that curtain." There was a scuffle of feet. A piece of drapery that seemed to hide the wall behind the Prince's chair clattered back on its rings, and showed another room, long, narrow, and dusky. In it at the farther end was a demi-bombarde, a small wide-mouthed piece on a gun carriage, with a man standing beside its breech holding a lighted match over the touch-hole. The Prince turned sharply to look, and then slewed round to the table again. "It covers me well, but I have known a single shot to miss." "But not a bag of musket balls, _mon prince_, with a small charge behind them," said the Frenchman politely. "They would be safer," said Rupert. "Yes, Monsieur, it is a pretty trap, but to me it scarcely seems one that a gentleman would set for a guest." D'Ogeron shrugged his shoulders. "It contents me," he said, reaching for the black-jack. "I have ceased to be a gentleman. I am Governor of Tortuga." "If I cannot compel you just now to fight me for your discourtesy," said Rupert, "at least I will not drink with you." And he spilled his liquor on the floor. "Every man to his humour," said D'Ogeron. "The jack's half full yet, but I'm not averse to doing double duty. This sangoree puts heart in a man. Now touching these _engagés_ we started from: there is a way open by which you can serve them quite to their fancy. All who are left, that is, for I make no doubt that some have not survived. Newcomers are apt to be full of vexatious faults, and the cow-killers are not wont to be lenient when their convenience is injured. Give out that you are here with money, and ready to buy, and within a month I'll have all of them brought here to look at, with their prices written in plain figures. Say the word, _mon prince_, and I'll send out news this very day." It irked Prince Rupert to deal with this man, it irked him to sit in the same room with such a fellow; but the woes of those that had fought by his side cried aloud for relief, so he swallowed back his nausea and spoke him civilly. Besides, if the Governor chose to pocket the affronts and go on sipping his sangoree, it was the Governor's affair. So the Prince said that he was ready to buy back the liberty of those officers who had served his late majesty King Charles in the wars, and was prepared to remain in Tortuga harbour with his three ships till these were brought in. "Well and good," said D'Ogeron. "But I must warn your Highness that prices will rule high. When your very excellent friends were sold here, newly out of the ship, being raw with wounds, and galled with their shackles, and damaged with scurvy, they went cheap. But since then they have been in training as hunters, and porters of meat, and makers of bucan, and dressers of hide, and so they have acquired value as handicraftsmen. Moreover, when ransom is spoken of, it is always our custom to acquire new interest in a prisoner. You take me?" "I do. Had I one tenth of your commercial power, Monsieur, the King, my master, for whom I came out here to glean the seas, could keep a richer court at the Hague." The Governor leaned across the table and stared. "Do I hear you say you are working for Charles II.?" "Certainly. I am his servant since his late Majesty's murder. His kingdom for the nonce is unhappily in the hands of others, and with it the natural revenues. A king must have a court; a court needs money; I sail the seas to win that money: the thing is simple." Monsieur D'Ogeron hit the table. "The thing is unheard of," he cried. "Loyalty is a home-growth which does not bear transporting across the seas. In France, in the old days, I was the king's man--I forget what king's. I left France full of that loyalty, and for a while it lasted. But when my ship ran into the trade winds, it began to ooze from me, and when I got set down here, in these islands of the Caribbean, there was but a dim memory of that loyalty left. France is so many a weary league away, that the King's shadow cannot reach across the seas. For a while I missed it; for a while there was a blank in my life. And then I found another master: a master whom I could always admire and strive for; a master whose every action interested me, whose every woe was mine; and him I have served this many years with infinite zest and appetite. Never had man a master he wished to serve so well." "May I hear his name?" the Prince asked. The Governor turned to a silver mirror which hung against the wall, and lifted his goblet. "I drink to him," he said, "with all heartiness. His name is Camille Baptiste D'Ogeron, patron of the buccaneers." "And skimmer of their gains?" "Skimmer of their gains, most certainly, _mon prince_, or why Governor of Tortuga? What am I else but a king? I have no hollow pomp about my court, it is true, but I could have it if I chose to pay. I could have drums beat in my path when I went abroad, and powder burned upon my saint's day. I could have courtiers in silken robes and golden chains, and a palace with forty rooms instead of four. But I take only what suits my whim. My visitors come in tarry breeks or the bloodied shirts of cow-hunters. My attendants can make a roast, or brew a bowl, or slit a throat with equal glibness. My enemies, when they call, leave behind them their heads on the spikes above the gateway. And I have also the delicate joys of domesticity. Though I have been widowed these nine times, I married a new wife brought in by one of the ships only the other day, and already she adores me." Prince Rupert sighed. "I can conceive," he said, "that the situation would not be intolerable for some men. There is a certain relish in robbing the Spaniard." "More for you, _mon prince_, than for me. They are Pope's men, and I was a Pope's man bred myself. You were always Protestant." "I glory in it," said Rupert fervently, "though it has made me a ruined fellow from my birth up." "There you are, then," said the Governor. "Take your revenge, which is here ready to your hand, and grow rich at one and the same time." "I shall take my revenge," said the Prince quietly, "and I shall take revenge for others also. But it is my King who will have the riches." "Yet, if it could be otherwise," said the Frenchman musingly: "if you would follow what is in the atmosphere out here, and be content to fight for your own hand, what a glorious future there would be before you! There are with you three ships in harbour now: a very tolerable commencement. You could take them up a creek to careen, and clean them from the weeds of the voyage, and re-set-up your rigging, and get all put a-tauto. You have pretty enough crews on board already. I can get you also those of your late soldiers whom Monsieur Cromwell sent me, and who will be none the worse for their short apprenticeship with the buccaneers. There are hundreds of the buccaneers themselves that would join in such an enterprise, and I also could lend a couple of well-found ships to assist it. "And what is this enterprise?" "Seize every plate ship that's sent home to Spain. Sack every city on the Main in its turn, squeeze out all the gold, and sail away and leave its people to spin more." "You propose I should do this as your lieutenant?" "That sticks in your gizzard, eh, _mon prince_? But, as it chanced, I was not going to make any such suggestion. I never aspire to having men of your calibre as my subjects. They would take too much looking after, and I have no wish to find one from below climbing up and trampling on me, and becoming chief in my place. This governorship has been too hard to get, and is too snug a property to jeopardise for the mere ambition of having Rupert Palatine for a mere week or so as my dutiful lieutenant." And Monsieur D'Ogeron winked pleasantly. "No, _mon prince_, go and seize an island for yourself, and set up a government, and we will call ourselves allies. We will form a buccaneer kingdom with a dual head, and there will be no limit to our prosperity. Look at the crop there is at hand: wine, women, meat, corn, silks, pearls and gold in all abundance. All the strong men will flock to us and help in the taking. The Spanish power will melt away like sand cliffs before a sea." Prince Rupert thrust back his chair from the table and smote the arm with his fist. "Have done, Monsieur!" he said. "It is against my honour that I should listen to you more. I came out here as a King's man, and if life remains to me, it will be as his man that I go back." "But," said the Governor, with a puzzled brow, "your King's Cause is distant; it is weak; it is nearly on the ground; it is doubtful if it ever pulls round again. Nay, your Highness, by this time, for aught you know, the Second Charles has followed the way of his father, and there is no Cause left." "Then I shall build it up again and fight for it. In Europe, Monsieur, we do not esteem a man any the less honourable because he keeps his fidelity to a Cause that is for the moment drooping." "Well," said Monsieur D'Ogeron, "I am thankful that I have left Europe behind, with those old unpracticable ideas." He leaned back in his chair and stretched. Then he laughed craftily, and went on with his speech. "As it seems, then, we cannot trade over this idea of a buccaneer kingdom, your Highness, let us go back to the question of ransoming these _engagés_. You are prepared to pay good hard money down?" The Prince frowned. "For a gentleman, Monsieur, you are unpleasantly commercial." "Your Highness rather wearies me," said the Governor, with a whimsical shrug. "Gentility I have dropped, as being quite unprofitable; and as for keenness over a bargain, why, there I could skin a Jew; so now you have a fair and final warning." "I have no money at present." "I did not suppose you had. Ships which sail from here to the Old World are ofttimes rich; but ships coming here, never. Since history began, they have always been barren and empty--or why else should they come?" "I will make payments, Monsieur, out of the first prizes which come into my hands." "I hear your Highness say it. But--Tortuga is not Europe, and we give mighty little credit here. If you were known to be fighting for your own hand, it might be different. But when you openly say you are merely an admiral of some king across the water, you speak beyond our simple minds altogether. I answer not only for myself: I answer for the whole community. You must offer some other scheme, _mon prince_, or your friends must stay on as _engagés_ and work out their time. Come, think it out. I do not wish to hurry you." Prince Rupert sat with his chin in his fingers and pondered deeply, but no schemes came to him. It irked him terribly to think that the men who had fought by his side during all the battles of the war should be left unrescued in this horrible servitude, whilst he was at hand with the will to set them free, and only lacking of the bare means. And if fighting would have done the deed, the Prince would have recked little of the odds against him. But though he captured all Tortuga, with its forts and batteries, and killed the Governor, yet he would be no more forward in his design. For those he wished to relieve were scattered in ones and twos far over the Savannahs of Hispaniola across the strait, and nothing but the good-will of Monsieur D'Ogeron could make the buccaneers, their masters, bring them in. The Governor at the end of the table smoked tobacco and sipped his sangoree. He seemed quite contented, and perhaps a little drowsy. Prince Rupert stood up, and began to walk to and fro across the chamber, as was his wont when thinking deeply. But scarcely had he left his chair, when the roar of an explosion shook the place, and the chamber was filled with smoke, and the chair itself and a part of the table beyond were blown to the smallest of splinters. But at the head of the table the Governor sat unmoved, and, as it seemed, unstartled; and presently he began to laugh. "'Fore God," he said, "that was a sleepy rogue of a cannonier. Has your Highness guessed what happened? "No," said the Prince. "Your efforts at hospitality are somewhat beyond me." "Why, the man with the lighted match in his hand has been growing more and more drowsy, and nodding and nodding, till at last his hand drooped down over the priming. When the piece fired I chanced to look round, and saw him waken and start, as though he had been hit himself. 'Twas a most comic sight." "Through his carelessness I have had a most narrow escape." "But you did escape," said the Governor. "And the damage done to the chair and table I will forgive him for the amusement he afforded me." "I must request you, Monsieur," said the Prince, "to order this man a flogging." The Governor was all affability. "_Mon prince_," quoth he, "if it pleases you, he shall be flogged first and hanged afterwards. Or would you prefer that he should have his wakefulness improved by a generous taste of the rack? You have had a start. I had forgot you were newly from Europe and would care for these things. We think little enough of such small humours here, so long as we are not hurt. But you are fresh from the Old World, and my man shall pay dearly enough for his indiscretion." The Prince frowned. "I wonder, Monsieur," he said, "that you do not punish the man as taking away your only guard over me." This time Monsieur D'Ogeron laughed outright. "_Mon prince_," he said, "you have small idea of the completeness of my defences. Were it my will, I could have you safe in an unbreakable prison before another second had passed." "I do not take you, Monsieur." The Governor rubbed his hands appreciatively. "My dungeons," he said, "are beneath this chamber, rock-hewn, deep and vastly unpleasant. The floor on which we stand is so ingeniously contrived that at will any portion of it can be made to give way, and drop an inconvenient person into safety below. I have a trusty knave at hand attending on the bolts." "Who is probably asleep, like your other fellow." The Governor frowned. "I do not think so, your Highness. But we will soon see. I might call your attention to the embrasure of the window behind you. In case other foothold goes, it will afford you a scanty seat." Then, lifting his voice, he cried loudly for "Jean Paul!" On the instant a great flap of the floor beneath the Prince's feet swung downwards, and had not Rupert been warned, there is not a doubt but that he would have been shot helplessly through the gap into the prison beneath. But as it was, with a scramble he reached the ledge of the window, and sat there cursing aloud at Tortuga and all the monkeys and the monkeyish tricks it contained. It was plain the Governor wished to laugh--for when half drunk he was a merry enough ruffian--but he saw the Prince's rage and choked back his mirth. "Nay, your Highness," he said, "you brought it on yourself by doubting whether my man Jean Paul stayed awake. I have known all my fellows long. Alphonse drowses sometimes when the heat is great and he has liquor in him, but, Jean Paul never. That is why I have set Jean Paul over the strings which govern the bolts, and he has never failed me, and never pulled the wrong string. And it is no light business to keep the tally of them either, for there is a separate string for every square fathom of the floor." "You keep a most delicate care of your health, Monsieur." "It is necessary," said the Governor, with a shrug. "I have some queer callers. Men in these seas want many things, and when they cannot get them for the asking, they are not averse to using violence if they think it will succeed. I dare lay a wager, _mon prince_, that if you saw those late officers of yours, which Monsieur Cromwell sent me, standing by the harbour side, you would not think twice about clapping them on board and carrying them to sea without a piastre of recompense?" "It would be my bare duty to gentlemen who have been my very faithful comrades." "And your King's servants. How far would his present Majesty go towards ransoming these unlucky soldiers?" "He would go far, Monsieur. I have no commission from him to speak upon the matter: I could have no commission, seeing that his Majesty knew no more than I that Cromwell has sent unfortunate cavaliers to be enslaved in these savage seas; but I take it upon myself to say that his Majesty would sacrifice much to see them relieved." "Well," said the Governor, "if he sends out money, I will see the matter most circumspectly attended to." "He can send out no money," said Rupert gloomily. "His Majesty has nothing save for what I earn for him." The Governor spread his hands. "Then what can you expect? There is nothing for it but to let your good friends continue their employment, unless----" "Unless what, Monsieur?" The Governor dropped his _insouciance_ and stood to his feet. The drink seemed to warm into life within him. The Prince was still sitting absurdly enough in the window embrasure, with the fallen trap yawning beneath his feet. D'Ogeron strode up and faced him across the gap. "Give me the services of your fleet for six short months," he cried, "and the men shall be yours. We will send the ships away to-morrow to careen. I will despatch messengers, and these cavaliers of yours shall join them before they are cleaned. Then they shall sail away to harry a Spanish town on the Main, and their earnings during those six months shall count for all the ransom." "It is a bargain," Rupert said. "The King will forgive my alienating his revenues for the sake of these cavaliers who have served him so well. So, Monsieur, I sell myself into the service of the Governor of Tortuga for six desperate months." "Stay a moment," said the Frenchman. "I made no design on your Highness's utility. It is part of my design that the fleet should sail under an officer of my own, and that your Highness should stay on here, and accept my poor hospitality." "And for why, Monsieur? Do you honour me by doubting my capacity as an admiral?" "By no means. I have the highest opinion of your fighting genius, _mon prince_. But I would like to ensure that the fleet, after glutting itself with spoil on the Spanish Main, called back in this harbour here, and did not sail direct to Helveotsluys or some other port of Holland." "So, Monsieur, you doubt my poor honesty? You do well to put a barrier between us, for this is a killing matter." "I have learned to doubt everybody, your Highness; but I doubt you doubly because of your loyalty to this king without a kingdom, by whom you have been sent out a-foraging. Once you and your cavaliers had the gold aboard and under hatches, it might come to your memories that this king of yours was poor, and wanted immediate nourishment, and that Monsieur de Tortuga could bear to have his account settled on a later day. You take me?" "I cannot bargain with you," said Rupert violently. "I will not be separated from my fleet. But if hard necessity makes me desert these unfortunate cavaliers now, be assured that I do not forget them. And when opportunity arrives, and I come back to rescue them, look to yourself, Monsieur." "You may trust me to do it," said the Frenchman. "I am always ready to receive my visitors fittingly. That is why I remain Governor of Tortuga. Well, your Highness, for the present negotiations seem at an end between us. To-morrow I suppose you will buy what food you have moneys for, and draw anchor, and be off outside towards the Main, to set about your earnings. But for the present I have a kindliness towards you, although in truth you have yielded me but very slender deference, and I would e'en let you have a passing look at these good comrades from whom you have been so cruelly parted." "What, you have them here, then?" "Some of them are coming to the Island now with their produce. Looking over your Highness's shoulder through the window, I saw three canoe-loads of them disappear behind the point. If it please you to take a short promenade in my company, you can watch their march when they land." "Monsieur," said the Prince, "I accept your condescension. But first you must make me a pathway across this gap. I cannot fly." "That can soon be done," said the Governor. He put a finger through his lips and whistled shrilly. A man stepped into the room from behind a curtain. "Jean Paul," said the Governor, "the drawbridge." The man lugged a plank from beneath the table, threw it across the space in the flooring, and assisted the Prince to cross. The Governor himself handed his walking-cane and plumed hat, and together they passed out of the chamber, Jean Paul and Alphonse following, with hands upon their pistols. They walked leisurely through the defences of the castle, for Monsieur D'Ogeron was by no means loth to advertise his strength, and arm in arm they went out through the massive gateway, with its decoration of shrivelled heads, once worn by Monsieur D'Ogeron's enemies. They paced with gentle gait along the sun-dried path beyond, the Prince discoursing on philosophy, and engraving, and the gentler sciences, according to his wont, as though he had no thought beyond, and the Governor speaking of the fellows they passed, and the quantity of gold each in his time had wrested from the Spaniards. The Governor had but one thought to his head; but the Prince, whatever his thoughts might be, had always elegant words on other matters with which to cloak them. The Prince used his eyes keenly as he walked, but could discover little of that lavish wealth of which the Governor spoke so glibly. The wine shops were the most considerable buildings in the place, and these were mere thatched sheds without walls. Litter and squalor and waste lay everywhere. Rich silks and other merchandise were trodden down in the kennel along with garbage and filth. There was no laden ship in just then, with a crew to be fleeced, and the women of the place hung about in disconsolate knots bewailing their draggled finery. The dwelling-houses were mere hovels of mud and leaves: the only warehouse for goods was the open beach. The Governor must have read the Prince's glance, for he shrugged an apology. "You see us," he said, "in a state of _ennui_. But let one shipload of plunder come from the Main, and another of wines arrive from Bordeaux, and the place is a babel of life and carousal. Buccaneers returned from the foray are the merriest creatures imaginable. They will have none round them that are not cheerful. They set their casks of rum abroach in the path, and swear to pistol all who will not drink with them. They strut in clothes that would look fine on an emperor. They dice for black-jacks full of fair gold coin. They love the ladies with a vehemence that only seamen can command. They sing, they shout, they scream, they fight, and they scatter their plunder with a free-handedness that is more than glorious. They count it as shame if they have a piece-of-eight remaining to them after a week ashore, and then away they go to harry the seas for more. Oh, 'tis a rustling time here in Tortuga when we have a laden ship in from the harvesting; and a Governor, who must needs drink level with the best, needs a hard head to make full use of his opportunities." The Prince listened with a courteous bow, and picked his way with niceness amongst the squalors of the path; and presently they reached the outskirts of the sheds and the hovels, and walked between walls of tropical foliage that arched with delicate tracery into a graceful roof far above their heads. Gorgeous butterflies danced before their path, and flowers administered to them of their choicest scents. They came into an open glade hung with beauty, and the Prince exclaimed that he had been led into fairyland. "Well," said the Governor, with a laugh, "I hope your Flightless will be contented with the fairies, for here they come." A man appeared from a path at the farther side of the glade, and after him another, and then others. They trod with heaviness, being ponderously laden; and the leader, tearing a switch from a tree, stepped on one side and beat the others lustily as they passed him. "_Dépêchez-vous!_" he screamed. "Hurry, you slow-footed dogs!" And the train with infinite weariness shuffled along at a quicker gait. They were all dressed in rude thigh-boots of raw cowhide, with loose shirts on their upper bodies stained purple with constant bloodyings. They wore shaggy beards, and shaggy uncut hair, full of sticks and refuse. Their faces and arms were puffed with insect-bites. They were unspeakably disgustful to look upon, and yet the Prince regarded them with a softening eye. Every third or fourth man was armed with a _machete_ which dangled against his thigh, and a long-stocked buccaneering piece which he bore in his hand; and with his spare hand he carried a switch and belaboured the others. It was only the unarmed men who bore the burdens--one a great parcel of crackling hides, another a skinful of tallow, another a package of bucaned cow-meat, another a hog bucaned whole, and so on; and these were the _engagés_, the slaves for three years of the acknowledged buccaneers who were with the train, and the slaves of others who remained behind in Hispaniola to continue the hunting. They marched across the glade, like men who had lost all interest in life, each watching the heels of the one preceding; and Rupert devoured them with his eyes. Then one tall fellow stumbled over a fallen bough, and sent his burden flying, and his owner fell upon him with a very ecstasy of switching, and the Prince stepped out and bade the buccaneer desist. He did so sulkily enough, and the _engagé_ scrambled to his feet and resumed his pack. He was a huge red-haired man, with a livid scar across his eyebrows. "By God!" cried the Prince, "I should know that scar." The fellow looked up. "The Prince!" he said--"Prince Rupert! Has your Highness come in for misfortune too?" "My share. You carried the name of Coghill, if I do not disremember?" "Coghill," said the fellow, "and rode with your Highness through many a noisy day." "Especially at Edgehill, lad, and earned that wipe across the face by saving my poor life." "I did not wish to recall the debt, your Highness," said the fellow, "being in this plight. It was General Fairfax that give it me. He'd a lusty arm, and could sit a horse." The Prince wrung his hands. "I would I could serve you, lad," he said, "but I am in sorry plight myself, and the King is as bad." "Well," said the fellow, with a sigh, "I must make shift to serve my time. I'm tough, and a common soldier looks to taking what befalls. But for officers that was delicate nurtured, it is different. This life kills them off like flies." The Prince groaned. "I am powerless, lad," he said--"powerless." "If your Highness could stretch a point," the fellow persisted, "it would be good for the Colonel. He will die else." "What colonel?" "Sir John Merivale,--who other? Has not your Highness picked him out?" The man turned round. "Oh, there he is, just coming into the open. He has seen much misfortune since Old Noll took him at Coventry, and sent him over seas." Prince Rupert followed the trooper's glance. A gray-haired old man, the last of the train, was staggering into the clearing under a horrible burden. He had been apportioned off to carry a side of fresh beef, killed that very morning, and was bearing it, buccaneer fashion, with his head stuck through a hole in the centre. His knees bent under him with the weight, his frail hands gripped feebly at the moist edges of the joint, but his proud old back was as straight as ever it had been in the days when he sat in his saddle at the head of the King's guards; and when a fellow _engagé_ helped him lower his dripping burden to the ground, he thanked the man with the easy courtesy of a superior. The Prince stepped out to greet him. "Sir John," he cried, "it grieves me terribly to see you in this shocking plight." "Ah, Prince," the old man said, "you have caught me somewhat unawares, and my present service is at times none of the most delicate. How goes the Cause? We get sadly behind the times here both in news and attire." And with that he incontinently fell down and fainted. Prince Rupert turned to the Governor. "Monsieur D'Ogeron," he said gravely, "I surrender. For six months the fleet is yours on the conditions you offered. Whether I do right or whether I do wrong is another matter, and when the time comes I shall answer for it to the King, my master. But in the meantime I am Rupert Palatine, and I cannot live on to see officers of mine condemned to a plight like this. The opportunity is yours, and you make your gains." "_Mon prince_," said the Governor delightedly, "I honour your charity. We will have a great time together here in Tortuga drinking success to the fleet whilst it is away." CHAPTER II THE ADMISSION TO THE BROTHERHOOD Here, then, Prince Rupert was left, a guest of Monsieur D'Ogeron, the Governor of Tortuga, a man whom he found distasteful when sober and disgusting when drunk, a man with appetites only for gold-getting and carousals, frankly devoid of honour, and caring nothing for philosophy, engravings, or any of the more humane arts and sciences. His Highness had with him his secretary, whom he knew as Stephen Laughan (but who was a maid disguised in man's attire), and his only other attendant was a negro, a creature of Monsieur D'Ogeron's. And here it seemed he was destined to endure six months, till his ships should be again out of pawn, and he was free once more to harry the Spanish seas at the head of a stout command. If Monsieur D'Ogeron's castle of the cliff was unappetising, the squalid settlement at the head of the harbour was more so. Twice within the first three weeks, ships of the buccaneers sailed in laden with plunder from the Main, and there were some very horrid scenes of debauchery. These men knew no such thing as moderation; lavishness was their sole ideal; and he who could riot away the gains of a year in the carouse of a night was deemed to have the prettiest manners imaginable. The squalid town and its people was a mere nest of harpies, and no one knew this better than the buccaneers themselves. Monsieur D'Ogeron they openly addressed as Skin-the-Pike; the tavern-keepers they treated as though they had been Guinea blacks; but the hussies who met them with their painted smiles on the beach, and who openly flouted them the moment their pockets were drained, were a lure the rude fellows could never resist. They kissed these women, and dandled them on their knees; they lavished their wealth upon them, and sometimes beat them, and ofttimes fought for them; but never did they seem to tire of their vulgar charms. [Illustration: PRINCE RUPERT SHONE OUT LIKE A VERY PALADIN] To the onlooker, the imbecility of the buccaneers in this matter was as marvellous as it was unpleasant; and it was plain to see that the machinations of the hussies (though it cannot be denied that some had beauty) were as distasteful to Prince Rupert as they were to his humble secretary and companion. They accosted them both on their walks abroad, gibing at the secretary's prim set face. But though his Highness gave them badinage for badinage, as was always his wont with women of whatever condition, they got nothing from him but pretty words gently spiced with mockery. It was however an orgie in the Governor's castle that put a final term to their stay in Tortuga. A captured ship came in, laden deep with gold and merchandise. A week before it had been manned by seventy Spaniards, and of these twenty-three remained alive. It had been captured by a mere handful of buccaneers who had sailed after it in an open canoe, and these strutted about the decks arrayed in all manner of uncouth finery, whilst their prisoners, half-stripped, attended to the working of the vessel. They brought to an anchor, drove their prisoners into an empty hold, and clapped hatches over them; and then stepped into their boat and rowed to the muddy beach. According to their custom they had made division of the coin on board, and each man came ashore with a canvas bucket full of pieces-of-eight for his day's expenses. They rowed to the rim of the harbour, singing, and the harpies came down on to the littered beach to meet them. From the castle above we saw them form procession, each with a couple of the hussies on his arms, and fiddlers scraping lustily in the van. There was value enough in the clothes of them to have graced a king's court; gold lace was the only braid; and very uncouthly it sat upon the men, and very vilely upon the hussies. The fiddles squeaked, a fife shrilled, and a couple of side-drums rattled bravely, and away they went with a fine preparatory uproar to the wine shops. From his chamber in the castle Monsieur D'Ogeron heard the landing, and commenced a bustle of preparation. A feast was to be made ready, of the best, and the buccaneers and all those of the townspeople they chose to bring with them were bidden to it; and after the more solid part of the feast had been despatched, dice boxes were to be brought forward, so that the Governor, who was well skilled in play, might make his guests pay for their entertainment. Monsieur D'Ogeron gave the orders to his negro cooks and stewards, posted armed guards in convenient niches so that his guests could be handily shot down if they resented any part of the carousal, and then, with his two armed body-servants, Alphonse and Jean Paul, betook himself to the squalid town below, where he was received with shouts, which were not entirely those of compliment. For three hours he was swallowed up out of vision polite, and then once more reappeared on the road which led to the castle, arm in arm with the chief of the buccaneers, with a procession fifty strong bellowing choruses at their heels. They lurched up the winding pathways, stamped through the grim gateway with its decoration of shrivelled heads, came up the ladders which gave the only entrance from the courtyard, and clattered into the long low hall of the castle, where was set ready for them a feast made up of coarse profusion. On the blackened wood of the table were hogs roasted whole, and great smoking joints of fresh meat, and joints of bucaned meat, and roasted birds, with pimento and other sauces; and before each cover was a great black-jack of liquor set in a little pool of sloppings. To a European eye the feast was rather disgusting than generous; but to the buccaneers, new from the lean fare of shipboard, it was princely; and they pledged the Governor with choking draughts every time they hacked themselves a fresh platterful. Prince Rupert, seeing no way to avoid the scene without giving offence, was seated at Monsieur D'Ogeron's right hand; and noticing a hussy about to plant herself at the Prince's right, Stephen Laughan clapped down in that place himself, to the amusement of all, and his own confusion. His Highness's secretary (being in truth a maid) had but small appetite for orgies, and had been minded to slip away privily to a quiet chamber. But the sight of that forward hussy was too much; and sooner than let the Prince be pestered by her horrid blandishments, Stephen sat at his side throughout the meal, and attempted to discourse on those genteel matters which were more fitting to a gentleman of Rupert's station. Each buccaneer had brought with him his bucket of pieces-of-eight, which he nursed between his knees as he sat, with a loaded pistol on top as a makeweight and a menace to pilferers; and after that all had glutted themselves with meat, they swept the joints and platters to the floor, not waiting for the slaves to remove them, and called for more drink and the dice boxes, both of which were promptly set before them. And then began the silliest exhibition imaginable; for the buccaneers, with abstinence at sea, were unused to deep potations, whilst Monsieur D'Ogeron, though he had been drinking level with the best of them, was a seasoned cask which wine could never addle; and moreover, 'tis my belief the dice were cogged. The old rogue approached them craftily too, saying at first that he had but small mind for play, being in a vein of indifferent luck; whereupon they taunted him so impolitely, that at last he seemed to give way, and in a passion offered to play the whole gang of them at once. They accepted the challenge with shouts, and Jean Paul fetched a sack of coin and dumped it against his master's chair; and so the play began, with small stakes at first, the Governor steadily losing. The guests, in the meantime, quarrelled lustily amongst themselves, and twice a pair of them must needs step away from the tables and have a bout with their hangers, and so earn a little blood-letting to cool their tempers. But for the most part they sat in their places in the sweltering, stifling heat of the chamber, and drank and shouted, and watched the rattling dice eagerly enough, and scrabbled up the coins from amongst the slop of liquor on the tables. And as they won and the Governor lost, so much the more did they shout for the stakes to be raised, till at last the Governor yielded, and hazarded fifty pieces on every throw. Then came a change to the fortune. Monsieur D'Ogeron, it seemed, could not be beaten. He won back his own money that he had lost; he won great store of other moneys, in fat shining handfuls; and he vaunted loudly of his skill and success. "You dared me," he cried, "to raise the stakes; and I did it, and have conquered you. And now I dare you to raise 'em again." Upon which they accepted his challenge with oaths and shouts, and the play went on. A hundred pieces were staked on every throw of the dice box, and almost every time did the Governor gather in, till Stephen Laughan, who accounted it the greatest of foolishness to lose at gaming, could have wept at the silliness of the buccaneers in not leaving off the contest. But the play progressed till each man was three-parts ruined, and it did not stop till some were asleep under the tables, and the hussies and the traders from the settlement rose in a body and dragged the rest of the seamen away. Throughout the play Prince Rupert had sat quietly at the Governor's right hand, puffing at a long pipe of tobacco, observing with his keen eyes all that happened, and answering courteously enough when spoken to. The men around him were the rudest this world contained; esteeming themselves the equals of any, and the superiors of most. But there was a natural dignity which hedged his Highness in, over which even they did not dare to trespass; and so, by way perhaps of a sly revenge, they contented themselves by gibing now and again at his easily-blushing secretary. It was not till the play had ended, and the Governor sat back with a sigh of contentment in his great carved chair of Spanish mahogany, that the Prince saw fit to make the proposal by which he regained his liberty. "Monsieur," he said, "I have some small skill at the dice myself. Now that your other opponents have ceased to contend, will you humour me by throwing just three mains?" The Governor turned on him with a vinous eye. "Your Highness has seen the way we play here in Tortuga? It must be for ready money jangled down on the board." "Money, as you know, Monsieur, I have none, else had I not been here, but away with mine own ships as their admiral, earning money for the King. But I have a gaud or two left. Here is a thumb ring set with a comely Hindu diamond-stone, which already you have done me the honour to covet. I will wager you that, against a small canoe and permission for myself and Master Laughan here to use it." "You want to leave me!" said the Governor, frowning. "I wish to go across to Hispaniola to see for myself these buccaneers of meat at their work, and afterwards to take up such adventures as befall." "Your Highness will find but vile entertainment amongst those savage fellows." The Prince glanced over the littered banquet chamber. "I was sitting here ten hours ago: I am sitting here now. Let that suffice to show I am not always fastidious." "The fellows did feed like swine, and that is a fact," said the Governor; "but if your Highness had drunk cup for cup with them, instead of keeping a dry throat, you'd have felt it less. As for Master Laughan, I do not believe he has wet his lips once since we have sat here. He snapped at the ladies and he shuddered at the men. 'Tis my belief that if Master Laughan were stripped he'd prove to be a wench." "Monsieur," said the Prince wrathfully, "any insult thrown at Master Laughan will be answered by myself. For his manhood I can vouch. In action he has twice saved my poor life. If it please you to take your sword, I will stand up before you now in this room." "Pah!" said the Governor. "I do not take offence at that. I will not fight." "You will not fight, you will not game! You own but indifferent manhood!" "Game!" cried the Governor. "I will throw you for that thumb ring if you wish to lose it." "Be it so," said Rupert, and quickly stretching out his hand gathered up the Governor's dice and their box. Monsieur D'Ogeron reached out his fingers angrily. "Your Highness," he said, "give back those tools. They are mine, and I am used to them, and I play with no other." "They content me very well," said Rupert. "As a guest I claim the privilege of using them. Look!" he said, and cast them thrice before him on to the table. "They throw sixes every time. They are most tractable dice." The Governor of Tortuga thrust back his chair, and for a minute looked like an animal about to make a spring. But he knew when he was beaten, and being a man who regarded honour as imbecility, he sought only to make the best bargain suitable to his own convenience. "Your Highness," he said, "the dice you hold are useful to me." "I make no doubt of it," said the Prince. "I have watched you throw them with profit during these past many hours." "It would please me to buy them back. I will pay for them a suitable canoe and victual, such as you ask for." "With leave for Master Laughan to voyage with me as personal attendant?" "I will throw him in as a makeweight if your Highness will condescend to forget any small feats which it seemed to you the dice were kindly enough to perform in my favour." The Prince surrendered the box with a courtly bow. He could be courtly even with such vulgar knaves as the Governor of Tortuga. "You may continue to use these ingenious dice as you please, Monsieur," said he. "I am not sufficiently enamoured of your good subjects here in Tortuga to wish to set up as their champion. And," he added, "I make no doubt you will be as glad to be shut of me as I am to be rid of your society. We do not fall in with one another's ways, Monsieur. We seem to have been differently brought up." In this manner, then, Prince Rupert and his humble secretary got their quittance from Tortuga, and put across the strait to the vast island of Hispaniola, where men of the French and English races hunt the wild cattle, and the Spaniards war against them with an undying hostility. It was in a lonely bay of this island that the blacks set them ashore, and at once the discomforts of the place gave them the utmost torment. For the night, to ward off the dews and the blighting rays of the moon, the blacks built them a shelter of leaves and branches, but there was little enough of sleep to be snatched. The air drummed with insects. In the Governor's castle at Tortuga the beds were warded by a tent-like net of muslin, called in these countries a pavilion; but these they lacked, and the expedient of the buccaneers, who fill their residences with wood-smoke, they considered even worse than the insect pest itself. In the morning they rose in very sorry case. They were sour-mouthed for want of sleep, their bodies were swollen and their complexions blotched with the bites, and the negroes (doubtless by order from Monsieur D'Ogeron) had sailed off with the canoe during the night. Of food they had but a very scanty store, of weapons only their swords, and the country beyond them was savage and deadly in the extreme. The Prince, however, was in no wise cast down. Through the thick grasses on the bay side he discerned some semblance of a track, and saying that it was as likely to lead them to the buccaneers as any other route, shouldered his share of the provisions, and stepped out along it at a lusty pace. His secretary followed him, as in duty bound, though with great weariness; and together they toiled up steep slopes of mountain under a sun that burned like molten metal. The shrubs and the grasses closed them in on either side, so that no fanning of breeze could get nigh to refresh them; and though fruits dangled often by the side of the path, they did not dare to pluck and quench their thirst, being ignorant as to which were poison. Twice they heard noises in the grass, and fearing ambuscade, drew, and stood on guard. But one of these alarms was made by a sounder of pigs which presently dashed before them across the path; and what the other was they did not discover, but it drew away finally into the distance. And once they came upon the bones of a man lying in the track, with a piece of rusted iron lodged in the skull. But no sign of those they sought discovered itself, and meanwhile the path had branched a-many times, and was growing in indistinctness. It was not till they were well-nigh exhausted that they came upon the crest of the mountain (which in truth was of no great height, though tedious to ascend by reason of the heat and the growths), and from there they saw stretched before them a savannah of enormous width, like some great field, planted here and there with tree clumps, sliced with silver rivulets, and overgrown with generous grasses. For full an hour they lay down panting to observe this, and to spy for any signs of buccaneers at their hunting; and at last, in the far distance, saw a faint blue feather of smoke begin to crawl up from amongst a small copse of timber. On the instant his Highness was for marching on; and although his secretary brought forward many and excellent reasons for a more lengthened halt, his Highness laughed them merrily enough to scorn, and away once more they went, striding through the shoulder-high grasses, and panting under the torrent of heat. More and more obscure did the track become as they progressed, and more and more branched. Often it seemed as though it were a mere cattle path, bruised out by passing herds. And, so uncertain were they of the directions, being without compass and not always seeing the sun, that they were fain to ascend every knoll which lay in their path to justify their course. The march, then, it may be gathered, was infinitely wearisome and tedious, and when at last they did gain the tree clump which yielded up the thin feather of smoke, the Prince was owning to a sentiment of fatigue, and his secretary was ready to drop with weariness. They were fitter for bed than for fighting, and yet fighting was nearer to them than they at all expected. As all the world now most thoroughly knows, the Spaniards of the New World were growing alarmed at the increasing numbers of French and English adventurers who were coming out to wrest a living from the Main and the islands of the Carib Sea, and were resolved to make great effort to oust these intruders and to continue possessing the countries to themselves alone. And seeing that all sooner or later must pass their traffic through ships, the Spaniards thought to strike at the root of the evil by exterminating the cow killers of Hispaniola, who alone could supply these ships with the necessary bucaned meat. But these men, "buccaneers" as they are currently named, indignantly resented any attempt at extermination, and rather relishing war than otherwise, fought the Spaniards who were sent to hunt them with such indescribable ferocity, that for one buccaneer killed twenty Spaniards were often left dead upon the field. For which reason the Spaniards had grown wary, scoured the country in bands which had acquired the byename of Fifties, and avoided the hunters most timidly, unless they could come upon them singly or in bands of two or three. The smoke which the Prince and his companion had seen, rose from the cooking fire of a buccaneers' camp; and, as it chanced, other eyes besides theirs had spied it also--to wit, those set under the helmets of a prowling Spanish Fifty. But this troop and their horses were masked by an undulation of the ground, which they had cleverly made use of to secure an unobserved advance, and the buccaneers went on with their cookery with little expectation of surprise. Still by custom they always kept arms handy to their fingers, and when the Prince and Master Laughan stepped out into sight from amongst the tree stems, two steady muskets covered them, and they were roundly bidden to stop and recite their business. Even after this had been said, the buccaneers received them none too civilly, and it was not till Prince Rupert had begun to charm them with his talk--as he could charm even the most uncouth of men when he chose--that they relaxed their churlishness and invited the travellers to share their meal. There were three of these buccaneers, two only being sound men. The third, an _engagé_, had been sadly gored by a wounded bull, his ribs being bared some ten inches on one side, and his thigh ripped down all its length on the other. At first sight the two visitors looked upon this _engagé_ as a dying man; but neither he nor his companions seemed to think much of the wound, and it appeared that from the active, open-air, well-fed life that these men lead, their flesh heals after a gash with almost miraculous quickness. There was great store of meat in the camp--the spoils, in fact, of four great bulls; but the buccaneers had grown dainty in their feeding, and nothing but the udders of cows would satisfy them, and so they had shot three other poor beasts to provide them with a single meal. For sauce there was lemon and pimento squeezed together in a calabash, and for further seasoning a knob of stone salt; plaintains served them for bread; and for drink they had the choice between water and nothing. Once the buccaneers had offered hospitality, they were gracious enough with it, pointing out the tit-bits, and insisting that their guests should do well by the meal. And in truth his Highness played a rare good trencher-hand, for he was keen set with the walk, and the cookery was surprisingly delicate. But through over-fatigue his secretary lacked appetite, and these rude hunters said they held in but scurvy account one who was so small an eater. The meal, however, was not uninterrupted. When it was half way through its course, the Prince held up his hand for silence, and then-- "Gentlemen," said he, "were we in Europe, I should say a troop of horse were reconnoitring us, possibly with a view to making an onfall." The buccaneers cocked their ears to listen, and one of them, a tall, pock-marked man named Simpson, whispered that the Prince was right. "And by gum, maister," said he, "tha'd better ate up t' rest o' thee jock, or happen tha'lt find theesel' de-ad wi' an empty belly. Tha' sees this buccaneering-piece of mine? Four an' a half foot long, square stocked, an' carries a ball sixteen to t' pund. She's a real Frenchy, pupped by Gelu o' Nantes, an' she's t' finest piece i' Hispaniola. I'll drop one o' th' beggars when they top yon rise, an' I'll get three more as they come up. My mate here 's good for other three wi' 'is piece, an' when they comes to hand-grips, we'll give 'em wild-cats wi' t' skinnin' knives. If thee an' thy young man do yer shares, maister, we should bring a round score o' t' beggars to grass afore we're down on t' floor wi' 'em." "I'm thinking," said the other buccaneer, "we'd better knock Tom's brains out before we start. I'd not like an _engagé_ o' mine to be taken by the dons alive." Simpson considered. "There's sense i' that," said he. "Nay, Master Simpson," urged the gored man on the ground, "say a word for me. I can pull off a gun as I lie, and at least I can hough their horses when they come near. It's sheer waste of an extra arm not to let me earn my own killing." Simpson cut another mouthful of meat, and ate it relishingly. "There's sense i' ye both," quoth he, "but I think Tom's right. There's fight i' Tom still, an' them dons may as well ha' t' benefit o' what Tom can do. Happen we can claw down our twenty-five if we've luck. But mark tha', Tom, there's to be no surrendering." "I'm not anxious," said the gored man, "to make sport for those brutes while I roast to death on a greenwood gridiron." "Gentlemen," said the Prince, "may I ask you if you regard our position as quite hopeless?" "Quite," said Simpson. "If tha' don't believe me, maister, ax Zebedee." "We'll be five dead men in an hour's time," said the other buccaneer. "All I want is a good pile of dead Spaniards around us; but we'll not get twenty-five." "I'd like to bet tha' on it," said Simpson thoughtfully. "Gentlemen," said the Prince, "I presume you are not anxious to die just now?" "That wants no answering from quick men," said Zebedee. "Precisely," said the Prince; "and as you appear to be desperate, and to have no plan, perhaps you will listen to mine. I grant it may fail, but I have seen it succeed before in affairs of this sort." "Who are you?" asked Simpson. "I am Prince Rupert Palatine. Perhaps you may have heard of me?" "Nay, lad, nivver. But let that be. What's thee plan?" "That instead of waiting here to be assaulted, we should attack these horse ourselves; that we should go across to the rise yonder to seek them, and should charge furiously towards them, shouting over our shoulders as though we had a body of comrades running close upon our heels." The Yorkshireman Simpson started to his feet, buccaneering-piece in hand. "By gum," he cried, "young feller, that's telled us t' right thing. Happen we may scrape through yet, and bring in mony a good package o' hides an' taller, an' sup mony another jack o' old Skin-the-Pikes liquor i' Tortuga. Or happen we won't. Onyway, if t' beggars runs they runs, an' if they dunnot they dunnot, an' we gets our fight all t' same. Only thing as bothers me's Tom. I'm thinking we should give Tom a kindly shot before we start." "Nay, Master Simpson," said Tom; "if needs must I can earn my killing with the best of you. And till that time comes I can be of use. I can shout after you from the timber, and every voice helps." "Assuredly," said the Prince. "Tom's voice will further the plan." "It's all very well for you to talk, stranger," said Zebedee, "but it's me that's Tom's master, and has to think for his good. It's my opinion----" "Here they come!" cried Rupert. "Now, gentlemen, for God and the King: at the gallop, charge!" The helmets of the Spanish horse had appeared, glistering under the sun, from behind the grasses of the rise. Three shots rang out, and three Spaniards toppled backwards out of sight, and the two sound buccaneers, reloading their pieces as they ran, sprang off after Prince Rupert and his secretary, who led, waving their swords as though to bring up other companions. "Come on, mates!" shouted the buccaneers over their shoulders: "we have them on the hip. Quick, mates, and we'll kill the whole fifty! Quick, mates, or the cowards will be gone!" And from behind them in the timber the gored man sent shouts of encouragement in various keys, an shots as fast as he could reload his piece, whereof each one found a billet. The Spanish horse wavered in their charge, slowed to a canter, to a trot, to a walk; and then halted. And meanwhile the Prince and Stephen Laughan faced towards them unfalteringly, and the two buccaneers followed, roaring with glee, as though the whole fifty were already prisoners in their hands. Then someone amongst the Spaniards cried that they were betrayed, and that they were on the edge of an ambush of the buccaneers; and pulling his horse out of the line, galloped away by the line he had come. Upon which all the others, saving the seven whom Tom and the two buccaneers had shot, got their horses' heads turned, clapped in spurs, and rode as though an army were pounding along at their heels. Zebedee came and took the Prince by the hand. "I thank you," he said, "for saving our lives." But Simpson was not so openly grateful. "There's been no fight," said he. "Ye cannot call yon a fight. By gum, I thought we was in for summat big." And he walked back to the camp moodily, like a man who has suffered disappointment. Still, even Simpson had sense behind his recklessness, and was the first to suggest leaving their temporary camp before the Fifty rallied and came to seek them again, and advised departing forthwith to a safer headquarters. The meat and the skins were to be left behind; the two buccaneers picked up the wounded _engagé_ arms and heels, and carried him between them; and, with Prince Rupert and Master Laughan following, off set all five at a round pace through the grasses. The toughness of these hunters was extraordinary. For hours they had been engaged in the chase, in skinning and dressing their quarry, in transporting great loads of meat and hides, with barely an hour's rest out of the last twenty-four. And yet here they were, carrying their arms and a wounded man as though the weight was thistledown, and walking their good five miles to the hour. A linen tunic and short drawers reaching only to mid-thigh was all their wear, and these were dyed purple with constant bloodyings. Their powder they carried in waxed calabashes, their skinning knives in a case of cayman skin, with bullet pouch attached. Their one article of luxury and gentility was a toothpick of polished spider's leg. To the Prince, hardened as he was by a lifelong education in camps, following in the tracks of these buccaneers was a heavy exertion. To poor Stephen Laughan (that was but a delicately nurtured maid) it was a horrid torment. Her feet seemed like lead, her legs mere whisps of stockings. Her eyes swam and her body swayed, and nothing but the dreadful thought that if she fell the Prince might slacken her dress and so discover her sex, kept her from fainting each step of the way. Yet even at that terrible situation can she look back now, and say that never once did she regret the step that she took to follow across the seas and guard this gallant gentleman she so truly and reverently loved. The details, then, of this march are omitted, as the historian made the journey in a state bordering on the insensible; and for the same reason nothing can be said of the first coming into the main camp of the buccaneers. Even Prince Rupert, as he was afterwards gallant enough to own, was almost sinking with weariness when these strange headquarters were reached. But sleep is a great refresher, and next morning saw his Highness quite restored, and Master Laughan remembering what was due to borrowed manhood, and making shift to disown all inconvenience from fatigue. It was a Sabbath, and a day of great council. These strange men, the buccaneers, had come in from far and wide across the great savannahs, to recount losses, and to register vengeances against their natural enemies, the Spaniards. All were by their custom equal that had served a due apprenticeship; there was no king, there were no chiefs, there were no inferiors; and if any by his natural wit or prowess held a kind of natural headship amongst the rest, he was careful not to show it. One would suppose that they would have welcomed amongst them a prince of birth and breeding, whom they could have looked up to and followed as a natural leader; but a truthful historian must confess that they did not seize upon this inestimable advantage as readily as might be supposed. There was no order and method about the council, but it must be owned there was little enough of boisterousness. The buccaneers sat or lounged amongst the sweet-smelling grasses, some smoking tobacco, some polishing their arms. Overhead a great delicately foliaged tree, decked with scarlet blossoms, sheltered them from the sun; and to windward fires had been built that the blue wood-reek might chase away the flies. One spoke at a time, and the others listened. All had something to tell: all were fierce against the tyrannous Spaniard. At last came Prince Rupert's turn, and what he spoke was on a different matter. "Gentlemen," said he, "you see in me an admiral out of employ, and I come to offer you my services for a while as leader. The Spaniards harry you on land, and you wish for vengeance. Believe me, sirs, you will not hurt them deeply by cutting off a few of their ragged horsemen. A Spaniard's deepest feelings are in his pocket, and his pocket he sends back over seas for safe keeping in Spain. Find me a canoe, give me twenty stout men, and I will engage to cut a deeper wound in the Spaniard on the seas in a month than you would here ashore in a dozen years." Zebedee from the other side of the shadow nodded. "He's a nice notion of stratagem, brethren." "But I seed 'im let a fight slip by when it might 'a' bin 'ad for t' axin'," said Simpson. "You're wrong there," said another buccaneer. "I was a Parliament soldier afore Gloucester, and if you'd seen him and them damned swearing cavaliers ride through six regiments of saints, you'd ha' held your tongue upon that, friend Simpson. No; he's a glutton for a fight." "But I was going on to say, brethren," said Zebedee, "that this sea adventuring is none to my taste. I say nothing about frying for days in an open boat, eating your boots and your belt, and going half mad for want of a drop of water; I say nothing about finding a don's ship at last, and boarding her in spite of their teeth, and then putting on fine clothes and making the beggars sail her for you into Jamaica or Tortuga with colours flying and every piece being fired off in salute. But what do we get out of it? A week's carouse, and then come back here to the hunting with a shaking hand and an eye that's clogged, and starve for half a year till the work's pulled you straight again. No, brethren; for a pleasant life, give me steady hunting, and steady pegging away at the Spaniards between whiles by way of diversion. I've tried both, turn and turn about, these dozen years, and I know which is best." "Zebedee's growing old," cried a younger man. "I'm rusting for a turn on the seas myself. This hunting's well enough, but what's a package of greasy skins against the gutting of a fat galleon's paunch? They both take the same time to get, and think of the difference after. Last time I was over in Tortuga with three months' hard earnings, I'd empty pockets in a day." "I'm for a venture on sea," said another. And twenty more voices said the same. "There's sense in it," said Simpson. "I'm thinkin' I could do with a turn mysen if so be we'd a captain that----" A man came tearing into the camp, half burst with running. "There's a pink," he gasped--"a Jack Spaniard, sailing close in along the coast. She's becalmed, and the current's been settin' her in. Her people are nigh frighted to death. I could see them with my eyes, standing to their guns." Rupert started to his feet. "Now, sirs," he said, "a fisherman's boat with twenty volunteers, and she is ours." The younger men amongst the buccaneers were getting ready their weapons, aglow with the thoughts of action. "There's a canoe down by t' creek," said Simpson, "but there's nobbut one, an' she's half rotten." "Then we must be the quicker about our business, so that she does not sink under us," said Rupert lightly. "By gum, young feller," said Simpson, "I'm beginning to like tha'. I'll come an' all." Already the buccaneers in a body were beginning to hurry down to the creek, and runners who had got there first were baling out the canoe in readiness. She was indeed old and rotten, and moreover she was small. By no means could a score of men crowd into her, and there was competition as to which these should be. Master Laughan, whom these rude fellows thought by reason of his slimness to be of small account, would have been quickly elbowed out had he not at sword's point asserted his claim to a place. But he kept his lodgment in the after end of the canoe next the Prince, and she slipped out into the stream of the river, and so to sea. Ten men paddled and the other six baled, and surely no adventurers have ever tempted the seas in so unworthy a vessel. The water gushed in by a thousand cracks, and nothing but the industry of the balers could keep her afloat. A single cannon-shot would have sent her to the sharks in half a trice, and Master Laughan noted these things with a dry mouth and a heart that bade fair to leap direct from its resting-place. But Prince Rupert's eye lit as he steered, and the buccaneers bawled a psalm as a fitting start to their enterprise. So soon as ever the canoe left shore the pink started her cannonade, though for long enough the shot fell short. But when she drew in range the Prince gave an order, and six of the paddles were taken in, and the deadly marksmen with their buccaneering-pieces shot at every head which showed. Helmsman after helmsman was dropped, till at last the tiller was left deserted. Port after port they searched with their bullets, till not a gun was manned; and then, as the leaks gained, and the canoe was sinking under their feet, they took to the paddles again and forced her madly alongside. Like tigers the Spaniards defended their decks, and like tigers the buccaneers attacked. They had stamped their rotten vessel beneath the water when they boarded, and there was no retreat. If they could not beat the crew below, they must be beaten back themselves into the sea. They were fierce men all, fighting desperately, but even in that terrible _mêlée_ Prince Rupert shone out like a very paladin. The Spaniards were eight to one, and when they saw the smallness of the numbers against them they resisted stubbornly. Time after time the Prince led the buccaneers to the charge, always with a less number to support him, and when at last those Spaniards who were left cried "Quarter," he had but nine followers remaining to take away their arms. Simpson strode up across the littered decks, and smote the Prince upon the shoulder. "Young feller," he cried, "I take back what I said. Tha'rt as fond of a fight as me, an' tha'st foughten this one rarely. The lads says that if tha' can find a matelot they'll elect thee captain, an' we'll go out upon the seas to see what else we can addle." "I am honoured by your electing," said the Prince; "but, a matelot? A sailor? I do not quite understand." "A comerade, young feller, if tha' likes it better. We buccaneers allus has a matelot with whom we divides, come good fortune, come bad." "If it is the custom of the brotherhood I will do as you wish. Master Stephen Laughan shall be my matelot." The Yorkshireman burst into a great roar of laughter. "Yon lad!" he said. "Why, what sort of matelot would 'e make?" "I would have you know," said the Prince stiffly, "that Master Laughan is as good a swordsman as any on this ship." "Oh, like enough, like enough, young feller. But what good's a sword for killing cows? It's cow killing your matelot's got to make his business, he staying ashore whilst you are away at sea. It's the custom of the brotherhood, young feller, an' tha' cannot be elected captain till tha'st thy matelot, all complete." "Then, as Master Laughan is barred to me," said the Prince, "I know of no one more capable than yourself." "Me!" said Simpson. "I have seen you fight, sir, and I have formed a great estimate of your capabilities. I will do my poor best to serve you well upon the seas. "But," said Simpson, with his pock-marked face all puckered, "t' lads has named me here as quartermaster under thee." "Of course," said the Prince, "if you prefer their nomination to mine----" "By gum, no," cried Simpson. "I'll go ashore. Tha'll be something to talk about. There's them as has this, an' them as has that; there's them as has pickpockets for their matelots, and very bad some o' them's turned out; but there's not another buccaneer i' all Hispaniola that has a Prince for his comerade at sea an' I'll risk t' new thing on t' chance." "Master Simpson," said the Prince gravely, "I am indebted for your condescension. If I live, you shall have no reason to complain of your patronage." "Well, young feller," said the buccaneer, "I hope not. But there's no denying it's a risk. I've not always heard princes very well spoken about. But onyways, off tha' goes an' addle some gold. Tha'rt a member o' t' Brotherhood o' t' Coast now, an' tha'st earned thee place wi' a very short apprenticeship. Tha'st gotten all t' seas afore thee." The Yorkshireman bustled away to help tend the wounded. Prince Rupert leaned his elbows on the bulwarks and looked far out over the glittering blue and silver of the Caribbean. "All the seas before me," he murmured thoughtfully. "How much can I make the seas give up for the service of the King?" [Illustration: THEN ONE WATKIN, A MAN OF IRON AND A MIGHTY SHOOTER, TOOK THE LEAD] CHAPTER III THE RAPE OF THE SPANISH PEARLS Now the captured pink, when they came to examine her, contained very small store of what the buccaneers consider valuable--to wit, gold coins, jewels, or pearls. Merchandise, such as cottons and silks, she was well stocked with; chests of gold-laced clothes she carried, and in these the rude fellows decked themselves during the first search; but all this cargo required further barter before it could be turned into a carouse, and barter was a thing the buccaneers held in small esteem. It was their conceit that as free hunters they could peddle hides and meat and tallow without demeaning themselves; but to trade in merchant stuffs, such as oil, and cloth, and tinsels, and dyewood, was, in their idea, to dirty their fingers. Amongst the Brethren of the Coast there was very great niceness in such small matters as these. The event, as it happened, fell in very handily with Prince Rupert's mood. Small gains were as useful to his Highness as nothing at all; it was constantly in his mind that he had to keep supplied the Court of his Majesty King Charles II. at The Hague; and, in fine, it was pieces-of-eight by the puncheonful and not by the purse which he sought. So he proposed manning the pink more stoutly, saying with purposeful vagueness that he intended to venture out upon the seas again in search of plate ships; and the buccaneers, who had helped him take her, agreed with shouts and a salvo from the guns. There was little time lost in debauch. The nine surviving buccaneers were, it is true, too drunk and too encumbered by their fine clothes to do much towards the working of the pink; but they sat about the decks, each with an open liquor cask convenient to one hand and a naked sword to the other; and the Spanish prisoners, with the terror of death heavy upon them, were easily persuaded to do the necessary seamen's work on this vessel which had so lately been their own. The pink was sailed up a convenient creek of Hispaniola, where forests grew down to the water's edge, and there careened by tackles from her lower mast-heads to the tree roots. Five of the buccaneers departed various ways into the country to secure recruits for this new expedition, and the other four, with Prince Rupert and Master Stephen Laughan, his secretary, stayed behind to guard the Spaniards and keep them diligently at their work. Now this Master Laughan (that was in truth a maid) had been taunted a-many times by rude fellows with being a mere encumbrance to his Highness, and inwardly raged at a certain inborn natural timidity, which on inopportune occasion would out. But at last Master Laughan (moist-eyed, and very sorrowful) was resolved openly to trample these qualms underfoot by some piece of desperate valour, or perish pitifully in the attempt. And here lay an enterprise ready to hand. Beforetime, when a guest with Prince Rupert under the roof of Monsieur D'Ogeron, the Governor of Tortuga, the secretary had learned concerning a vastly rich pearl fishery of the Spaniards in a bay at the farther side of Hispaniola. This knowledge Master Laughan had kept secret, timorously dreading lest the Prince with a small force should attempt its capture, in spite of the heaviness of its guarding. But certain sneers that were dropped by two of those barbarous buccaneers after the storming of the pink (whereat indeed Master Laughan's sword-arm was reddened to the elbow) had driven the poor creature half frantic with mortification, and in agony of wounded pride the news of the pearl fishery was whispered into Prince Rupert's ear. His Highness heard the scheme with a glowing face. "My lad," he cried, "this is a more profitable adventure than any I have dreamed about. But why have I not been told it before?" "Because," said Master Laughan, craftily, "your Highness lacked all followers save my poor self, and I feared to tantalise you by pointing out the impossible. "_Arnidieu!_" swore Rupert, "you should have left me to be judge of that, Master Laughan. I have done the impossible so many times before, that I begin to think there is small meaning in the word. Besides, as you well knew, I was a desperate man in a desperate case. I have pawned the King's fleet for six months without his leave or signature, and it is a fact that if I do not earn plunder without the ships here, I shall earn censure at The Hague." "I judged all these things," said the secretary, with a sigh, "and the only excuse I can put forward is my poor affection for your Highness's safety." "Thou'rt a good lad," said the Prince testily--"a well-enough-meaning lad, but at times a short-seeing fool. My life has passed through too many thousand risks to be cut off with a few more. And besides, adventure is meat, drink and opium to me; it is a habit which I cannot shake off, nor wish to do; and let that suffice. And now for a chart, and more of your tale." They went down to the cabin, which was hard to reach and ill to stand in, since the pink was careened with one of her bilges clear of the water. They found a chart and laid it upon the almost upright table, and to look at it stood on the bunk coamings by reason of the heel. The thump and squeak of the scrapers as the men shredded the growth of weed and barnacles from the planking came to their ears as they handled the chart, and with it a quaintly strange smell of burning as the men breamed the ship's bottom. "We could be cleverer with more knowledge on these fisheries," said the Prince, and thrust his head up through the skylight and shouted that word should be passed for the erstwhile captain of the pink. The Spaniard came presently, shirtless, with his back a mass of stripes. "_Señor_," said the Prince, "I think you have been foolish, and not bowed to the fortune of war. I see my fellows have been writing their displeasure upon you. It would have been wiser to have shown philosophy and done your appointed tale of work." "_Señor capitan_," said the Spaniard, "I am a philosopher, but not an atheist. Up till now I have worked with all the goodwill that could be expected from a slave, but when your fellows for the _leña para la lumbre_--I know not how you call it----" "Breaming faggots." "For their breaming faggots, used that which was holy, and would have had me participate in their sin, why then, _señor_, I refused to put my soul in jeopardy, and rebelled." The Prince looked puzzled. "You are speaking beyond me." "_Señor_," said the Spaniard, "as part of my cargo, which you took from me, were three cases of papal indulgences. They were entrusted to my care by the Bishop of Maracaibo, who knows me as a devout Catholic." "Well?" said the Prince. "_Señor capitan_," said the prisoner, "it is with these parchments, these things of indescribable holiness, that your fellows would have us bream the underplanking of the ship. Some of my compatriots are weak: they have twisted the sacred writings up into torches, and I saw them thereby bartering away their souls before my very eyes. I alone resisted. I alone have earned stripes, and this martyrdom. But you, _señor capitan_, you are not a rude man, like those on deck. You will not ensure your eternal damnation by permitting this sacrilege to continue?" "At present," said the Prince, "I do not see cause for interference, being so curiously constituted as to think that I can earn Heaven without the Pope's helping." "You are a blasphemer." "No, I am a Protestant, and heed papal thunders as little as a duck fears water; but, _señor_, I will permit you to ransom what remains over of this consignment of indulgences on easy terms." The Spaniard stepped forward eagerly enough, then stopped and frowned. "_Señor_," he said, "you are playing with me. You know me to be a ruined man." "On the contrary," said the Prince, "you still own one small commodity, and I would buy that from you on easy terms. You have information about the pearl fisheries in this bay, which I have marked here on your chart. Tell me how they are guarded and how worked, and I will wed you once more to freedom, _amigo_, with the parchments as your dowry." "You ask me to be traitor to my country." "These good gentlemen on deck," suggested the Prince, "might offer you the alternative of having your nose and other portions of your honoured anatomy carved in slices, and lighted matches put between your fingers. It would injure my feelings sorely if I had to hand you over to their power of persuasiveness. And in the meantime, these excellent parchments from Rome, on which you seem to set so much store, are flickering away to ash. If a layman might judge, it seems to me that you are now personally responsible for their destruction." "Señor," said the Spaniard, "your diplomacy is as invincible as your sword-arm. May you live a thousand years. I must ransom these holy writings at whatever cost." And forthwith, so soon as the Prince had bidden those on deck burn no more of the papal indulgences, the Spaniard broke into narrative and told all about the pearls and the manner of their fishing. It appeared that the industry was then at its zenith. The fishing had gone on for years with always increasing success; but now that many towns of the Main had been raided by enemies, and Spain was still clamouring for the undiminished cargoes of treasure, a greater effort than formerly was made to wrest this wealth from the fastnesses of the sea. First and last two thousand men were toiling at the fishery. It was worked from small brigantines of ten or a dozen tons, of which there were an amazing number. Each night these brought their catch to a great storeship which lay at anchor in the bay, heavily armed. And for the protection of the armed storeship was a war-carrack, full of arms and men always on guard, together with two armed galleys of fifty oars apiece. The Spaniard said it was the easiest way imaginable of gathering wealth, the only difficulty being a shortness in the supply of the Guinea blackmen who were used for the diving. These, it seemed, through being forced by their masters to remain under water for twenty minutes at a stretch, deteriorated in strength, and indeed with frequency would most exasperatingly die. There was no relying (said the Spaniard) on the blackamoors to be useful servants, and this was the greater pity because no other substitute could be used, since the sharks which abound in these latitudes attack white men or the native Indians when swimming in the water, but avoid the blacks by reason of their pungent smell. Much more too upon this matter the fellow told, because having once (as he termed it) done treachery to his country, it mattered little whether the treachery was big or small; but it was plain to see that there was a method in his telling. He admitted that the pearls were there, which of course Prince Rupert had learned already; he spoke upon the methods of fishing, which carried with them a certain pleasant interest; but he was unmistakable in his painting of the care with which they were guarded. "They know, _señor_," quoth he, "that your Excellencies, the Brethren of the Coast, would be only too happy to make a transference of these precious gleanings, and they are quite prepared to defend them to the uttermost. The storeship and the guardship are both mighty vessels, and crammed with men. The bay is land-locked and smooth, and they lie there to their anchors, with guns run out and loaded, with boarding nettings triced up to the yard-arms, hand-grenades ranged ready, and close-quarters all set up convenient for a fight. They are fine ships both, with lofty forecastles and aftercastles. Their crews are picked men, and constantly exercised with their weapons. They are in sooth, _señor_, floating fortresses, and nothing but an armada could reduce them." So the Spaniard spoke on, and Master Laughan hearkened to the words with a sinking heart, and mightily regretted ever having yielded to those goadings which, in a moment of desperation, led to the Prince being first told about the fisheries. But Prince Rupert listened with appetite. He smiled pleasantly when he heard of the richness of the pearls in store, and his eye kindled as the Spaniard described with how great accuracy they were guarded; and when at the end of his narration the Spaniard said he hoped he had shown how impossible it was for even the bravest of men to overcome the defenders and ravish the store, the Prince laughed merrily, and said he had done just the reverse. "I am a man," quoth he, "that likes a kernel all the better, and hammers for it all the cleverer, when the nut is hard a-cracking." "Yet I do not see how you can finger those pearls?" said the Spaniard. "And I," said the Prince, "shall not tell my plans to you or any other living soul, _amigo_. Plans shared are easily spread, and plans spread are handily baulked." Now, it is the custom of the buccaneers, when they sail on an expedition, that the scheme of campaign should be laid open and voted upon by all hands; and it says much for the influence that Prince Rupert gained on the rude men who formed his following and they consented that he should override this hard-and-fast rule. It was not, as most who read these memoirs will at once suppose, that they deferred to his exalted birth: in fact, the item of his being of princely rank rather warred against him in their eyes than otherwise. It was simply his influence as a man, and his obvious power of conducting affairs, which gave him this paramount weight; and these savage fellows, both French and English, who before had owned none as master save their own desires, were content to set Rupert over them with an absolute power of life and death. So a charter-party of rules was drawn up and sworn to with Bible oaths, and a scale was appointed by which all plunder was divided. Meanwhile, the refitting of the pink was attended to with infinite patience and skill. Her bottom was breamed, as has been said, and scraped to the smoothness of glass, and then varnished over the yellow wood. The rigging, both standing and running, was overhauled and reset-up. The sails were all new bent, and the armament thoroughly attended to. The pink was a vessel with a fine turn of speed, and for his purpose Prince Rupert wanted this speed at its best. For, to be plain, he destined the vessel for a feint attack, and intended to leave her reliant for safety solely upon the nimbleness of her heels. A dozen days were spent about this industry, and one by one recruits arrived from over the savannahs. And then the pink was warped out into the stream, and towed out of the creek by her boats to a good offing, and there, with a prayer and a psalm, committed to canvas and the care of God. Forty-three seasoned hunters formed her fighting crew, each with powder, bullets, buccaneering-piece, bayonet, and skinning-knives; and for her working, there remained fifteen Spaniards, one of whom, being skilled in the use of backstaff and other utensils of navigation, was appointed sailing-master, with promise of early enlargement. Then for the first time Prince Rupert made known the whole of his schemes, and the buccaneers, in a passion of enthusiasm, ran to the great guns of the pink, and fired off a shotted salute in his honour. But, great as his influence was, in one matter Prince Rupert was without command. When once they were at sea, with the Spanish prisoners to work the pink, the buccaneers had no notions of restraint or discipline. They ate when and what they pleased, they drank whenever they were sober enough to swallow more. Twice they set the pink on fire, and but for miracles would have consumed her. The stores were few, and yet the waste was incredible. The fellows knew no moderation. They fought at times amongst themselves, they beat the Spanish prisoners, they diced incessantly, and throughout all the watches shouted sea-songs that were often mere ribaldry. When one through sheer exhaustion slept, the others yelled their choruses in his ears, and played their pranks upon his senseless body, till he was waking and with them again. In fine, they made that first part of the voyage one horrid unbroken carouse. A term was put on the orgie by the failure of supplies. The pink reeked with the lees of stale drink, but there was no whole cask left unbroached. Of food there was scarcely a carcass remaining, and of water but two tepid leaking casks. But these indomitable men did not repine. They had had their frolic, and all that remained was to make the nip-gut time as short as might be. They crowded more canvas on the pink till the Spaniards shivered with fright, and set up preventer backstays to make the spars carry it. The vessel rushed through the seas with a roar of sound, and the savage men within her were rendered doubly savage by their hunger. But the situation fell handily with the Prince's plans. There was no question about succeeding now: starvation was the only alternative; and these desperate fellows had no appetite for more of that. In these circumstances, then, the pink and her people came to the western horn of that bay where the Spaniards plied their pearl fishery, and running inshore with a light wind, dropped the stream anchor in five-fathom water. The boat was launched over-side, and in two journeys set thirty of the buccaneers upon the hot white beach, and with them Prince Rupert and Master Laughan. Then the boat rowed back again, was hoisted in-board, and the pink tripped her stream anchor, and once more got to sea. Forest sprawled down to the rim of the beach, and the land party were quickly under its cover. Then one Watkin, a man of iron and a mighty shooter, took the lead, he being by consent the best woodsman amongst the buccaneers; Prince Rupert and his secretary followed; and the rest trailed on behind in Indian file. Word had been given, and they were careful to drop no sound--treading with niceness, and never speaking even in a whisper--since the success of their endeavour depended all upon their presence being unknown till the time came. And so the whole train of them wound through the tree aisles of the forests like some monstrous bristling serpent, whereof every joint was a different hue and shape. Their march was not a long one, though exhausting by reason of the heat, and the quags they had to traverse, and thickets of barbed thorn which lay in the path and warred most unkindly with the fripperies of their clothes. Still, when they came to the crown of the bay where the fishery was carried on, they were none of them sorry (as even the hardened Watkin owned) to lie for a while in the rim of the undergrowth, and there await fitting season for the attack. The bay before them was busy with life. Lying each at her anchor were two-and-thirty brigantines, from whose sides the blackamoor divers were constantly beat down into the water, to be drawn up again half-burst a quarter of an hour later with a netful of the rare oysters slung around their gleaming bodies. In the middle of the flock of brigantines were the two great armed carracks, bristling with men at practice on their weapons; but of the two fifty-oared galleys there was no sign, for (as was learned afterwards) they had been sent away, and their soldier crews retained to strengthen the fighting forces of the carracks. There were two thousand men in these vessels in the bay, all trained to arms, and with every advantage of position; and surely nothing was heard more preposterous than this idea of attacking them with such a trifling handful. But no trace of anything else but pleasure showed on the faces of the buccaneers; the Prince was smiling, as, indeed, was always his habit before an onfall; and Master Laughan, though inwardly a prey to the most horrid fears, strove bravely to keep a good colour, and to seem pleased like the rest. Presently, too, the tedium of the waiting was relieved. From round the farther horn of the bay the pink came sailing in under a cloud of canvas, and began discharging her cannon at the outermost of the brigantines. Instantly the whole scene bubbled with disorder. Drums beat to quarters, and trumpets rang out defiances. The guardship vaingloriously made a discharge of her great pieces on both broadsides (though the pink was far out of any range), and then sent her top-slaves aloft to set canvas. From their lair those on shore could hear the clacking of her capstan as she heaved in cable to get her anchor. And then, after some men had run out on her towering bowsprit to loose the sprit-sail, they canted her head with that, and sent her clumsily surging off to seaward, pluming her as she ran, and never ceasing the useless cannonade. But the handful of buccaneers in the pink, recking little of the noise and bustle, sailed gallantly in, and ran aboard the outermost of the brigantines. This was going beyond their orders, for Prince Rupert had commanded that they were only to show themselves in the offing so as to draw pursuit, and then sail out again. But it was easy to see what was compelling them. They drove the crew over-side, and then threw of food and water all the brigantine contained on to their own decks, and, casting off their grapples, sailed away again. They were half mad with starvation and thirst, and they risked capture and the wrecking of the enterprise to satisfy their intolerable cravings. By this time the great war-carrack had drawn near, and her shot was falling merrily about the fabric of the pink, though the aim for the most part was ill enough. But once the pink was in charge of her canvas again, the handful of buccaneers left the Spanish prisoners to attend to her sailing, and after a drink and a bite apiece, took up their hand guns, and with deliberate aim brought down a man on the carrack for every shot, so continuing till they drew out of range. The carrack was a dull sailer, much time having passed since her last careen, and her bottom being in consequence a very garden of trailing weeds and barnacles. The pink, thanks to recent attention, had, in sea phrase, the heels of her. But the carrack did not desist from the chase, lumbering along in the wake of the smaller vessel, blazing off her futile artillery, wallowing with helpless wrath. And so the pair of them passed out of sight round the western horn of the bay. The sun was just upon its setting, and they sailed as coal-black ships with coal-black spars and cordage, through a sea and an air of blood--fit emblems, as it seemed to Master Laughan, of the desperate work which was shortly to befall. Night came suddenly, like the shutting down of a box, there being no such thing as twilight known in these latitudes; and amongst the forest trees of the shore there arose a thin blue film of mist, which thickened as the night grew, and spread out over the bay, and swallowed the shipping away from sight. But the ambush lay still in its lair, for no attack was to be made till midnight passed, and those on the shipping were locked in their deepest slumber. Prince Rupert and the buccaneers were in high feather. Their scheme had succeeded with exactness. The pink had drawn away the war-carrack, and there remained only a bare fifteen hundred Spaniards to oppose to their lusty score and a half. To hear them, one might have supposed they were going to a wedding, where all was frolic and gaiety; and yet in all the annals of men it would be hard to find any scheme more desperate than that which lay before them. For their proposal was this: to swim out and seize the nearest brigantine; with her to capture the store-carrack; and then to take the great ship to sea, and so to their rendezvous with the pink. Heard any man ever such harebrained recklessness? There was no boat, no canoe upon the beach--nothing but a few logs, which would help to bear the weapons, and assist those that could not swim; and when the time came, the buccaneers stripped off all clothes except their breeches, for ease in the water. If they got drowned or killed, these reckless fellows said they could die as easy naked as clad; and if they took the carrack, there would be plenty more clothes in her store; while if they did not take her, why, then, they were as good as dead. Here again, then, was a very horrid situation for the poor secretary; for to strip was to confess her sex, than which she would liefer have died, and to go into the water clad (being indeed no swimmer) was to court drowning. She did indeed make one attempt to escape the ordeal, saying that it was beneath his Highness's dignity to render up his clothes, and suggested that the taking of a brigantine--surely an easy matter--should be left to the common buccaneers, and that they should send a row-boat to the shore when they were ready for the attack on the carrack. But the Prince only laughed. "My scrupulous Stephen," said he, "we are not in England now, or even Europe. Perhaps I am Rupert Palatine, as you say, though I have almost forgot. But, for the time, I am just a tarry sailor, that for risks and plunder goes share and share alike with his crew. And so, my lad, I am e'en going to play water-rat and dodge the sharks. But do you stay behind, if you please, and I'll send a boat for you when the affair is over." "Nay," said Master Laughan, "if your Highness goes, your humble secretary follows;" and with that stepped into the water, laid hold of one of the logs which the swimmers stood ready to tow, and shut her eyes, and inwardly commended her soul to God. And so the greatest stroke of the enterprise began. Now the present historian has to confess that of this horrible passage through the water no detail can be given here, for she made it in a condition close upon fainting. Let alone the new sensation of being afloat in unstable water, there was the dreadful fear of sharks with which those seas abounded, and this over-rid all dread of what the reception might be on the brigantine and beyond, and made the passage seem infinitely tedious. But, as it so fell out, no sharks attacked; and when the brigantine was reached, Master Laughan, burning with shame at all this pitiful display of cowardice, was the first to board and the first to strike a blow. The taking of that dead-fish-stinking brigantine was in itself a small matter, as there were barely forty men on board, and some number of them negro and other slaves; but it was not accomplished without some dispute, and many cries rose shrilly up into the night before all could be silenced. A gun was fired from the storeship, which showed that she at least was awake; and presently, when the buccaneers had cut the cable, and were moving the brigantine with her sweeps, a breeze sprang up and drove away the mists from the whole surface of the bay. Here then, it seemed, was the whole enterprise laid bare to public sight, and the one little vessel in the midst of such a huge force of enemies could do nothing better than surrender and sue for quarter. But such was the indomitable courage of the Prince and these savage buccaneers who followed him, that nothing was further from their thoughts. A trumpet pealed out from the great carrack, and they answered the challenge by wild shouts and stronger labour at their oars. Those on board the carrack understood the capture then, and retorted with a broadside from their great guns, which tore the waters of the bay into foam and fountains. Not a shot hit; but the Prince was as wise as he was daring, and knowing that a couple of those iron messengers might well sink the brigantine before she had accomplished her purpose, steered her so as to meet the carrack bow to bow--which, as they had no spring ready to warp round their broadside, they could not avoid. They had only two bow pieces which could be brought to bear, and to these no reply could be made, as all the powder of the buccaneers had been wetted by the swimming. But their aim was bad and their loading slow, and most of the shots hummed through the rigging overhead, or spouted harmlessly in the water alongside. So the brigantine made her advance, and finally fouled her foremast rigging with the sprit-sail yard on the carrack's towering boltsprit, and came to a standstill little harmed. "Boarders away!" cried the Prince, and led the storm himself, sword in teeth. The carved woodwork of the great ship's beak hung above, sawing up and down with the motion of the seas. He caught his fingers in this and hauled himself up, amid a storm of missiles sent down from the high forecastle roof. His secretary, fearing horribly, but impelled by love, was close upon his heels; and the buccaneers, climbing like cats, followed close after. But here came a check. Under their feet were the gratings of the great ship's beak; before them was the high plain wall of her lofty forecastle; and at its summit were the outraged Spaniards lusting for their destruction. For general use ladders led from the gratings of the beak to the high roof of the forecastle above, but these had been drawn up or cast overboard before the actual moment of the attack. The wall of wood before them was as naked as the wall of a house, and quite unscalable; and the Spaniards above, with shouts of triumph, rained down shot and grenades into the huddled crowd of the buccaneers, till it seemed that in another minute not one soul of them would remain alive. But presently Watkin the hunter, being a man of resource, bethought himself of one of the two forecastle gun ports, which, though shut down and fastened from within, offered a slight gap. Into this he thrust his hanger, and prised it open another half-inch, till he could get a hold with his fingers; and then, being a fellow of vast and ponderous strength, wrenched the whole port lid from its fastenings, and fell backward with it amongst the corpses and the confusion. The Prince's secretary was the first to hazard life through the gap, and got in, wounding two opponents; and then in came the rest of the buccaneers, the Prince with his accustomed courage being the last to seek the shelter. Here, then, they had got possession of the interior of the carrack's forward castle, and had a moment to gain breathing time, and to tie up the more pressing of their hurts. Within all was dark, but without all was bright-lit with battle lanterns, and alive with the curses and movements of savage armed men. It was plain that the ship was far from taken yet, and the pearls, which they were chiefly concerned with, lay in the lazaret, under the after-cabin floor. So, as the Spaniards were raging before the doors of the forecastle and in the waist of the ship, though not daring to attack them in this gloomy stronghold, the buccaneers slewed round the two demi-culverins which armed its ports, loaded them with grape, and twice shot lanes through the thick of the enemy, before they gave way and fled in confusion, to spots where the missiles could not reach. "Now!" cried the Prince, "at them again, brethren, before they can re-form!" and led the way out on to the main deck, sword in hand. But here in an instant the boarders were penned in. The buccaneers might be brave, but the Spaniards were no cowards, and moreover they were exasperated by what had befallen already. Right desperately did the boarders fight, but their numbers were already small, and they grew fewer; and although dozens of the Spaniards were killed, there were always others behind to fill their places. The buccaneers began to yield ground. It seemed as though they would be driven overboard. But again Prince Rupert called upon them. "Brethren!" he shouted, "let us go and find their pearls. It is unprofitable waiting here in this debate. One fine charge, and we'll have their after-castle all to ourselves to dine in!" Whereupon he headed the rush in his own person with invincible valour, and with wild laughter those of the buccaneers who survived followed close upon his heels. A red lane was cut through the mob of Spaniards, and the doors were reached. So sudden and furious had been the charge, that none were inside the barricadoes to defend them, and once more the little company of the buccaneers found themselves in a stout fortress from which nothing but cannon could dislodge them. The table in the great cabin was set for supper, and the scraps on the platters showed that it had been left half eaten. Down the centre of the table were vast jugs of wine and silver pannikins, and the throats of the buccaneers being parched with fighting, they did not omit to drink. But it was not a time for loitering, though Watkin and one or two of the others were for sitting down then and making a meal whilst they had the chance. For the moment the Spaniards outside were quiet, but it was easy to guess they were in some way plotting their destruction. So the Prince with his cheery voice urged all hands to search for the hatch to the lazaret. "Let's win our way down there, brethren," cried he, "and get their pearls, and then we'll be off and away. Their silly ship's too hot and heavy to take with us, so we'll leave her afire to give them occupation whilst we make our clearance." "The lazaret hatch is here under the table," said one. "And heavily padlocked at that," said another. But locks cause small delay to lusty men. A shower of axe-blows beat away the staples, the hatch was wrenched back, and the lazaret yawned blackly beneath. A couple of fellows slipped below and passed up the pearls, which were in handy leather bags; and these the buccaneers fastened conveniently about their waists, with jibes at the Spaniards for making their plunder so easy for the carrying. Now it was in Prince Rupert's mind that he would fire the carrack, jump from the stern gallery into the water, swim to another brigantine and take her, and so to sea before pursuit could be made. But of a sudden this plan was upset. One who was spying through an after-castle port, cried that the Spaniards had drawn up eight cannon across the main deck, and were then in the very act and article of shooting, with intent to scatter their own after-castle and the pestilential buccaneers which it contained far over the sea beyond, in mere rags and splinters. Whereupon there occurred something very akin to a panic, and the buccaneers incontinently leaped down through the hatch into the lazaret. Prince Rupert was left behind helpless; and for a moment busied himself; and then followed, swearing, at their heels. "Now," cried he, "I'm for no surrender, brethren; and if you do not choose to roast like bacon, you'll cut your way out like men. There's no retreat the way we came. I've fired the ship above our heads." What he said next was lost, for the Spaniards had begun the bombardment of their own after-castle (deeming the buccaneers to be still within its shelter) and all words were choked with the crashing of timbers overhead, and the din of the bellowing guns. Dust fell in clouds, and the frail gleam of a single lantern was the only illumination. But his Highness showed by signs what he wanted done, and the buccaneers were quick to carry out his wishes. Between the lazaret and the main hold was a strong bulkhead of Spanish oak, and this had to be cut through. The axes were plied with frenzied strength, and the heat grew as the fire above gained hold. The tough wood resisted stubbornly, but the axe-men hewed with an ecstasy of strength, and at last a gap was splintered through. Giant fingers gripped hold of the ragged wood and wrenched it away, and at last a road was made. Into the hold beyond the buccaneers forced their way, fire and smoke licking at their heels, and the vengeful guns still thundering overhead; blunderingly they picked their way over the crates and barrels with which the hold was filled; and at its farther end fortune smiled, for they found a sliding panel which led to the cable tier. There was a ladder from this to a hatch in the forward castle deck above, and the ladder head was so stoutly defended that two more men fell before it was forced. But then the Prince himself headed the attack, and forced a passage through the gap; and when once he and his buccaneers had stormed the forecastle and cleared it from those it contained, and had the place to themselves, they were very little more disturbed. The aftercastle of the carrack, shattered into easily burning splinters by her own artillery, was by this time a mass of spouting flames; and those of the Spaniards who still offered offence did it half-heartedly, and were clearly anxious to be shut of their unneighbourly visitors on whatever terms they would take. The brigantine still hung where she had first lodged, with her foremast rigging fouled on the carrack's spritsail yard; and the Prince and his men, having the pearls at their belts, and knowing of nothing else that was not too hot or too heavy to carry off, struck up a jaunty song and made retreat by the way they had come. None molested them; not a gun was fired with purpose to do them harm: the Spaniards were all too busy in trying to quell the flames and save their ship. But the flames had an unbreakable hold, and by the time the little brigantine had got herself clear, and was slipping away from this prickly neighbourhood as fast as sail and sweep could drive her, the Spaniards had got their boats into the water, and were thinking more of saving their lives than of saving the proud ship of which they had made their boast. And what more happened to them the present writer cannot tell, for after the fire reached her powder, and the carrack blew up, all was darkness till the dawn rose and the brigantine found herself alone on a lonely sea. But from the desperate nature of the foray it is sure that they must have lost a great number killed, for of the buccaneers themselves only thirteen live men sailed back to sea again, including the Prince, and Master Laughan, and the wounded. Much excellent booty was wasted in the carrying off, as is always inevitable in these matters; and although the carrack had, before she was touched, the pearls of a whole season's fishing stored in her lazaret, only one-half of these found their way into the brigantine to offer themselves for division. Over this division too, when they came to the rendezvous, and found the pink in waiting for them, there was like to have been another turmoil; for it is the custom of the buccaneers, when sharing up their spoil, that each should strip naked to show that he has no wealth concealed--the which was an ordeal to which poor Master Laughan (who could have wept at the thought) strenuously refused to submit. Where all conformed, this very refusal seemed in itself suspicious, as even the Prince himself was forced to admit. But at last, after offering to fight all who challenged his honesty, and forthwith being told that it was impossible to fight the lot of them, Master Laughan compounded by being allowed to keep his decency in exchange for all his share of the plunder. Which compounding the secretary accepted with much mortification, having as large an appetite for pearls as other people, and having laboured very keenly and bravely in the getting of them. But there was no other way of evading this law of the buccaneers, and so all that could be set aside from this venture for the maintenance of his gracious Majesty's court at The Hague were the five shares given to Prince Rupert as captain. Verily, a maid who undertakes to act a man's part for the sake of being always near one she loves, meets with more trials and disappointments than ever she could dream of at the outset. But Master Laughan did not repine, and all who know Prince Rupert will understand how natural it was to feel devotion for him. [Illustration: "IT WOULD BE PERPETUAL SUNSHINE FOR ME, QUERIDA"] CHAPTER IV THE RANSOMING OF CARACCAS Now, after the dividing up of the Spanish pearls amongst them, Prince Rupert could no longer retain command over his buccaneers. The cruise was over, and by their laws they were free to go where they liked and do what they listed. All their hearts were set upon one thing--a carousal in Tortuga. This scheme in no wise suited the Prince. To begin with, he had acquired a vast dislike for that no-gentleman and very vile person, Monsieur D'Ogeron, the Governor of Tortuga; in the second place (as Master Laughan, his secretary, pointed out), he had no taste for impolite debauches and the company of those painted hussies who lived on the island and sponged on all laden buccaneers; and over all was his intense wish to earn money for the banished King at The Hague, which would in part excuse his unauthorised pawning of the King's fleet. So he took for himself the small brigantine, which otherwise would have been burned as useless, and remained at anchor in the little bay of Hispaniola, which was their rendezvous, whilst the pink with the buccaneers got under way for Tortuga, where these rude fellows had determined to fritter all their hard-got gains in one wild carouse. The pink sailed away with whole rainbows of bunting displayed, drums beating, guns firing, horns braying, and every expression of good-will. The buccaneers who were not occupied in the making of these noises lined the bulwarks and shouted, and drank the Prince's toast, so long as voice or standing power remained to them. In deed, so ample was their good humour, that one even drank the toast of Master Stephen Laughan, who, being in truth a maid, was but slenderly popular amongst them, on account of displaying a reserve which, though natural, was beyond their comprehension. And so the slope of ocean swallowed them out of sight, still firing their cannon, and drinking, and flying their flags, as befitted men who feared none that sailed the seas, and were feared by all. Whereupon Prince Rupert and his secretary turned into the standing bed-places in the brigantine's small hutch of a cabin, and enjoyed the first sound sleep that had fallen to their lot during three long weeks. There remained only with Prince Rupert and Master Laughan his faithful secretary, four black negro slaves, which last, having served as pearl divers to the Spaniards, and being very vilely entreated of them, were easily willing to give true service to the Prince during a short season, for the payment of their liberty when that service should be finished. But his Highness was a gentleman of large ideas, and having still some considerable time to occupy before his fleet should be restored to him, he proposed to improve the interval by sailing across to the Spanish Main, and putting to ransom there the great strong city of Caraccas, which lies amongst the mountains, and La Guayra, its roadstead port upon the coast. At first sight it seems hard to conceive a more harebrained project. La Guayra was defended by forts and batteries; Caraccas, embowered in the coast mountains beyond, was a place of incredible strength. A navy and an army might well be defeated before either of them; and here was this paladin of a Prince proposing to advance against them in one small bark of fourteen tons' burden, with only one attendant of his own colour, and four black savages who were unreliable even as menial servants. But his Highness had method in his scheme: he was not going to make his attack as Prince Rupert Palatine, but as Prince Rupert's envoy, and his weapons were to be the talkings of the herald rather than the rude arms of a man-of-war. Moreover, he had heard much of the beauty and wit of Donna Clotilde, the Governor of Caraccas' niece, and was minded to inspect her charms with his own proper eyes. He said it was a weary long time since he had seen any woman with the faintest claim to gentility. The Prince's secretary, that was a maid who loved him very dearly (though he, indeed, never discovered her sex), endeavoured hard to dissuade him from the adventure, pointing out the value of his Highness's noble life, and the grief that would overwhelm Europe if it were lost in these obscure seas of the New World; but the Prince merrily enough retorted that he had a-many times shown his ability to keep his life within its own proper carcass, and that it was a necessity for him to be up and doing. "We cannot set King Charles back on his London throne, Stephen lad, by sitting here on our hunkers admiring the sea views," said he. "The Restoration is the purpose of my life at present, and should be the purpose of all those that wish to carry my esteem, which I know you do. "Now we must get this brigantine victualled for the voyage, and that I leave to you and the blacks. There are no savannahs in this quarter of Hispaniola, and no wild cattle. But there are sea-cows in the water, and these you must cause the blacks to harpoon after their barbarous fashion, and then make shift to bucan the meat ashore as you have seen Simpson, and Watkin, and the other professed hunters do elsewhere. "For myself, I go now up into the country to make a cache, buccaneer fashion, for the pearls we have already taken. If we return all sound from Caraccas, well and good; they will be here waiting for us. If not, I have sent a letter by the pink to await the fleet on its return, and so if aught happens to us or to the brigantine, the cavaliers can come and dig the treasure up, and carry it away for its appointed use." "Can your Highness's secretary be of help in this matter?" "No, Stephen lad. I will not have you with me as a companion now, because if the worst happened, and the Spaniards took you, they might by chance compel you to show the hiding-place of these much-costing pearls if you knew it." "Your Highness underrates my poor devotion." "Not I, lad. I know the spirit is willing, but the flesh may chance to be weak, and if put to the question by these Spaniards, the stoutest might well give way. They are said to be very ingenious with their tormentings. The thing has grown to be an art with them." "But still your Highness seems to rely upon the buccaneers in the pink as being honest messengers," said Master Laughan, who was somewhat nettled. "That letter," retorted Prince Rupert drily, "was writ in a cypher, Master Stephen, which none but my dear brother Prince Maurice can read. So does that content you?" And with this he burdened himself with the leather bags of pearls, and a sword to dig with, and was put to the shore in a small canoe, paddled by two of the blacks. Now, it is no place here to recount anything so impolite as the fishing of manitee, or sea-cows (which the vulgar still confuse with mermaidens), nor any matter so indelicate as the manufacturing of their white flesh into food which will remain sweet for a voyage. And it would be equally disgusting to speak of the turning of turtle on the beaches, and the salting down of their quivering flesh into other provision, or to recount the filling of water-casks in a river's mouth, and the rafting of them off at a canoe's tail, and the parbuckling of them on board at expense of vast throes of weariness and perspiration. Yet, disgusting as they may appear to the genteel at home, these things have to be gone through by all adventurers sailing the seas of the New World. It is the custom of this barbarous tropic, where gentility is a forgotten word, for everyone to bear a hand indifferently; and on this account, Master Laughan, in spite of a most tender nurturing, was fain to work equally with the unsavoury pagan blacks. Even Prince Rupert, after his return from hiding the treasure, applied himself to these horrid trades of butcher and buccaneer, till at length the brigantine was victualled. A history of the voyage, too, across from Hispaniola to the Spanish Main would form unpleasant reading. The brigantine was a small frail thing of fourteen tons, and none too seaworthy. Howling greedy tempests seemed her daily portion, and she clawed her desperate way across an ocean that was all great noisy hills of yeast and green, and roaring fearsome valleys. Her water-casks leaked and fouled, and her ill-cured food grew tainted. Nothing but constant labour at the pumps kept her on the sea-top, and everything was wet on deck, and sodden in the hutch of a cabin. Salt-water boils were the common ailment, and poor Master Laughan acquired an ugly red spot on the chin that was quite destructive to all comeliness. It may be owned also that the Prince's sailoring was none of the best; for though he had some acquaintance with the utensils of navigation, he was not skilled in setting off a sea-direction like those wrinkled mariners that have spent a lifetime in the trade. And as a consequence he made but an indifferent landfall, sighting a coast which was wholly savage and desolate, and having no notion whatever whether La Guayra lay to the eastward or to the west. There was nothing for it but experiment; and taking guidance from the tossing of a coin, the brigantine's head was put to the west, till a fishing canoe appeared which gave him further directions; upon which she was driven back to the east again, and ran into the road of La Guayra, and brought up to an anchor there after a further voyage of forty leagues. Here, then, Prince Rupert found himself in touch with the commencement of his enterprise, and proudly flaunted the St. George's ensign of England at the foremast head of the brigantine, and his own banner from the main. The white flag of truce flew from the mast at the bolt-sprit end. There were four armed carracks of the Spaniards at anchor in the roads, and he saluted these and the shore batteries with a discharge of his two puny guns; and presently the captain of the port came off from shore in an armed galley to ask his business. The Spaniard was arrogant enough. He drove his galley aboard the brigantine, little recking what damage he did with the rude contact, and demanded with sundry oaths how any Englishman dared to invade those seas, which were given by God and the Pope to his master the King of Spain. "I am an envoy," quoth the Prince, "to your other master, the Governor of Caraccas, sent by my master, Prince Rupert Palatine." "I tell you, _Señor_," said the Spaniard angrily, "that we can have no dealings with any except my countrymen in these seas. Officially we do not admit the existence of intruders." "_Señor_," said the Prince, "it seems to me that I see in you a very discourteous fellow. I must make my existence apparent to you," said he, and smote the captain of the port lightly across the face with the back of his hand. The Spaniard whipped out his sword, but the Prince waved off his attack. "Not now, _Señor_," he said. "I will afford you personal satisfaction after I have carried out my other errand. But since you seem to have had the fact of my existence impressed upon you, perhaps now you will guide me to his Excellency the Governor, so that I may deliver his Highness's message." The Spaniard glowered in a black fury. "If you do not," the Prince went on, "I shall sail away; and when I come back with Rupert's fleet, the captain of the port of La Guayra shall be whipped and hanged, if it costs a hundred men to take him." "You seem sure of being given leave to depart," the fellow sneered. Prince Rupert shrugged his shoulders, and glanced towards the mast which stood up from the bolt-sprit's end. "_Señor_," he said, "I have heard many hard things said against your countrymen, but I never yet heard a Spanish official called an ignorant savage. You do not appear to have seen that piece of white bunting yonder, or I am sure even you would not have hinted at detaining a messenger who came under a flag of truce." The captain of the port gritted his teeth. "Well," he said, "I shall shift the responsibility from my own shoulders. News of your arrival shall be sent up to his Excellency at Caraccas, and until his reply comes down, you will stay in your vessel here, and not shift anchor from the roads. Have you any name you wish his Excellency to hear?" "You may say that the Prince's message is carried by Master Thomas Benson, who rode by his side throughout all the English wars, and who was honoured also by the friendship of his martyred Majesty, the late King. Master Benson's attendant is Master Stephen Laughan, Prince Rupert's own secretary." "And to what purport is this message?" "You may inform his Excellency that it concerns grave matters which are first to be delivered to his ear alone, and which are not such as an envoy would gabble into the lugs of underlings." "Master Benson," said the Spaniard, "when you have finished your embassage, and are free to stand up before my sword, I shall kill you. "Assuredly you shall have the chance," said the Prince; "and you will not be the first jack-in-office who has bought a lesson in manners dearer than he expected." With that, the captain of the port went back to his galley, not trusting himself to speak further; the whips of her boatswains cracked; the chained slaves strained at their oars; and the galley foamed away to the land. She was run upon the beach, and discharged her people on to the shore. The buildings swallowed them out of sight, and the first move of the Prince's scheme was played. For two days the little brigantine swung to her cable within gunshot of the forts, a thing of notice only to the sun and the seafowl; and tediously enough the work of waiting fell upon her people. The stress of labour was over; there was naught to do but eat the rotten victual and watch the tiny vessel swing over the sullen swells of the roadstead--all to a fine spicing of anxiety. But Prince Rupert showed a vast philosophy of patience, and Master Laughan (the boil on whose chin was subsiding) made shift to follow his example. Then came a summons from the shore: his Excellency, Don Jaime de Soto, the Governor of Caraccas, would grant an audience to Prince Rupert's envoy. Never, perhaps, has an embassy on so weighty a matter set forth upon its business in less bravery of apparel. Neither the Prince nor his Secretary had procured a change of clothing since they left Tortuga two long months before, and in that time much had befallen. The sun, the seas, the tearing brambles of the forests, and the greedy weapons of enemies, had all warred against their attire, and had reduced it to mere masses of stained rags, which were barely decent. When the pair of them landed upon La Guayra beach, the onlookers raised a jeer of derision. But this soon died away. Unlike the rude French and English buccaneers, the Spanish of the New World know how to appreciate birth and natural dignity, and the majesty of Rupert's port could not be disguised either by squalid rags, or the plebeian name of "Master Thomas Benson." Litters borne of four awaited them, and in these they journeyed up the six miles of steep which separate Caraccas City from La Guayra, its port. There was no blindfolding, no attempt to hide anything. The way lay through a narrow gorge of the mountains, and it was cut by no less than twenty-three forts, each with drawbridge, bastions, cannon and soldiers. It was an entrance incredibly strong, and the city beyond was well worth the expenditure in defence. Its sacred edifices were gorgeous; its profane buildings were palaces; and it lay there under the sun, the choicest jewel in all the Spanish New World. A more appetising spot to plunder never met a would-be raider's eye. Most gorgeous of all was the palace of Don Jaime, the Governor, and the state he kept was in full accordance with his dignity. The _patio_ swarmed with glittering soldiers; the piazzas were brilliant with finely dressed courtiers; rich tapestries bedecked the walls of the chambers, richer flowers adorned the galleries. Don Jaime himself was a little old white-haired man, as punctilious in his dress as in his speech and mannerisms. Through all this splendour, "Master Thomas Benson" in his mean equipment marched, not one whit abashed, and showed his Excellency a grand manner, equal to his own. He presented his credentials and besought a private interview. "It is my habit, sir," said the Governor, "to discuss all matters of State in my Board of Council." "I have his Highness's strict injunctions to deliver my message to your Excellency's ear alone. But after the news are yours, it will be in your Excellency's power to hand them on if you so see fit." "Sir," said the Governor, "I have a curiosity to know what so gallant a gentleman as Prince Rupert can have to say to me." He gave instructions, and those of his attendants who were in the chamber left, closing the doors behind them. "And now, Master Benson?" "My message, your Excellency, is short. His Majesty, King Charles the Second, has been thrust out of his lawful kingdom by the present odious rebellion, and keeps his Court at The Hague. His revenues are slim, and he has sent Prince Rupert abroad with the fleet to recruit them. I am here as his Highness's messenger to hope that you will see your way to assist the good cause by a substantial loan." "The treasury of Caraccas is very empty just now, Master Benson. The honoured needs of my own master, the King of Spain, have of late been large." "Ten thousand pieces-of-eight was the sum I was instructed to mention." "You come to the wrong place for it, sir. Even if I was to apply to the Holy Church for a loan, I could not grasp so much together." "Then one of your Excellency's captains--Don Sancho, I think his name was, of the galleas _Sanctissimo José_--must have lied most stoutly when we overhauled him a while back. His holds contained nothing but some rubbishing merchandise, and for excuse he said that all the plate was kept back in the treasury here for another year, waiting a stronger convoy." "Master Benson," said the Governor, "you are right. He did lie. They are very unreliable persons, these mariner folk." "Your Excellency's eloquence makes the matter clear to me; but if I carried such an answer back to the Prince, my poor bald words might not make him believe." "And then, sir?" "Why, then, your Excellency, I fancy Prince Rupert would come with his fleet and pay a civil call, and so be assured in person." The Governor's face flushed, and he started forward in his chair. "Master Benson," he said, "take care. You are using very dangerous words. Neither England, nor England's king, is at war with Spain." "England?" said the envoy thoughtfully. "Spain?" said he. "I seem to have heard the names once. Oh yes, I remember them distinctly now. But, your Excellency, those countries are a very vast distance away from here." "If you choose to look at it that way, Master Benson, you may. You may even go so far as to bring forward the barbarous doctrine that in these seas might is right. The defences of this place were built especially to accommodate any person who might hold that view." "These were shown me as I came up here," said the envoy. "They are brave defences--so were the defences of your Excellency's pearling fleet." "What! Has your Prince attacked my pearl fishery with his ships?" "No," said Master Benson negligently. "He had not his fleet with him at the time. He was accompanied only by this young gentleman here, his secretary, and enlisted temporarily the services of a few cow-killers from Hispaniola, and took a coasting pink, and with her visited the pearl fishery. He did no very great feat of arms. He was obliged to leave one of your Excellency's war-carracks ablaze, and the other on the rocks, and make a retreat with some precipitancy. But he took with him all the pearls which had been fished during the season, and those made a very pretty booty for his score and a half of men." "No word of this has reached me. A score and a half of men against that armada? It seems, sir, that you are speaking of an impossibility." "There were not many left to carry word," said the envoy. "But your Excellency may recognise these seals which I have brought in my pocket? His Highness cut them from the necks of the leathern pearl bags." The Governor started, and passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. "Yes," he said after a pause, "they are my seals." "It was a wasteful way of collecting revenue," suggested the envoy. "Much was spilled for the little that was taken away. If his Highness came here in person to levy a loan for the kingdom----" "He would never get here," cried the Governor violently. "_Carrajo_! _Señor_, with your own eyes you must have seen the strength of the forts!" "It was an open advertisement, your Excellency. So was the strength of your pearl-fishing armada. But as this point of ours cannot be settled without a trial (though for myself I can unhesitatingly declare that the Prince will take the city if he attempts it) let me bring to your notice another matter which we can agree upon. If Rupert did come before this place with his fleet, you would be put to heavy expense resisting him, whether his arms were successful or no. You would lose largely in both men and munitions of war; your defences would be battered, and shot-torn; there would be burning of houses and wasting of magazines; and there would occur a paralysis of trade which only years could cure. And what would the trouble be all about? To avoid the loan of a paltry ten thousand pieces-of-eight to a needy King. Why, your Excellency, it would cost you ten times that amount if you could beat Prince Rupert off, once he made an attack; and should he get foothold in Caraccas here, you would find it cheap to purchase his retirement for a thousand times ten thousand pieces." "You put the matter very boldly, sir." "I am a man of business, your Excellency," said the envoy. "I prefer to put things plain." The Governor sat moodily, with his chin in the butt of his hand; and for a while he answered nothing. At last he said, "Master Benson, this is a matter on which I must confer with my Council. I pray you give me a day or two for consideration, so that I can send a well-weighed reply to your Prince's courtesy. And in the meanwhile, if you would use my poor house, and all that it contains as your own, I should be overwhelmed by your condescension." "Your Excellency," said the envoy, "is vastly polite. Both Master Laughan and myself are highly honoured to rest under so distinguished a roof. But you must permit us first to go round to some of the stores of the city to procure more suitable wearing apparel than these filthy rags." "I will send one of my officers to be your guide. He," added the Governor with a sour smile, "shall provide you with the wherewithal to buy." "I could not trespass upon your Excellency's kindness to that extent. I have no gold money to pay for my purchases, it is true. But we have in our privy purse some small store of pearls, which, at a push, will doubtless serve as currency." Don Jaime grinned like a man in pain. "Master Benson," said he, "you are a most provident gentleman. If you and Master Laughan will wait in this chamber for a short while longer, I will send to you a guide who shall be entirely devoted to your honoured service." In this fashion, then, another stage of Prince Rupert's enterprise was successfully carried out, and the Governor of Caraccas, though fully alive to the unbounded impudence of the demands made upon him, was for the present, at any rate, civil and self-contained. What he might do in the future remained to be seen. He might within another day order the pair of his visitors to gaol, or death, or (still more horrid fate) hand them over to the gluttonous cruelties of the Inquisition, which spares neither rank nor sex. Or, again, he might act the prudent part, and despatch them whence they came with ten thousand pieces-of-eight, to save his splendid city from the Prince's harrying. But in the meantime the envoy and Master Laughan dressed themselves in all the niceness and bravery which they could procure on so brief a notice, and prepared to revisit for a short time genteel society, such as they had been divorced from for so many a tempestuous month. Now, in the household of Don Jaime de Soto, it is a safe thing to say that if Master Laughan had held command, the enterprise would not have been damaged; whilst it is a matter of history that the Prince, by his own action, completely wrecked it. Master Laughan, it is true (though being in reality a maid), would have had but small temptation, as she herself quite recognised; but the Prince, being man, must needs get enslaved in a vulgar love affair with a lady whose charms Master Laughan was quite at a loss to discover. To be precise, this Lady of Destruction was that very Donna Clotilde, the niece of the Governor, of whom they had heard before; and for those that care for the Spaniards' appearance, she certainly had some claim to comely looks. Indeed, Prince Rupert never tired of extolling her beauty; and it may as well be owned here, at once, that the secretary, who in secret loved his Highness madly herself, was torn with horrid jealousness. But the Prince, of course, knew naught about this, scoffed at all warnings, and in his masquerade of "Master Thomas Benson" pressed his suit with fire and diligence. The two days for the consideration of the Governor's reply lengthened out to four, and four to a week; and when the poor secretary dared now and again to hint that duty required a settlement of the business, he was sharply bidden to hold his pedant's tongue. And so the affair progressed. Their entertainment was not lavish. The Governor of Caraccas was too wily a fellow to make a parade of his wealth before so dangerous an envoy. But the society was certainly urbane and pleasing after that of shipboard and the buccaneers; and the old Spaniard, from behind his studied courtesies, saw plainly enough what was going on, and was content to leave Donna Clotilde to do battle with the invader on his behalf. The visitor was clearly infatuated. Still, what Prince Rupert, a man of the utmost daring, could have seen in such a little doll of a woman, it was hard to discover. And, astonishing to relate, Donna Clotilde made no attempt to set herself right in his eyes. She openly quaked when a door was slammed, and ingenuously confessed that the sight of drawn steel would make her faint; and yet the poor secretary, who watched from afar with heart afire, could have sworn the Prince loved her, and was forced to hear his rhapsodies when they were alone, and (more cruel still) was made many times the porter of presents and the bearer of love messages. But a fine revenge was in store, and the secretary can gloat over it to this day, though at the time it was like to have cost the pair of them their necks. The secretary in his misery had gone out into the gardens of the palace, and had lain down behind some shrubs to be alone with grief. It was night, and the place was dark but for the stars and the faint flashings of the fireflies; and presently who should come up but these two lovers, and seat themselves within earshot, and be talking before the listener could move! "But they tell me," quoth the lady, "that your country is a place of fogs, Don Tomaso, and that the sun never shines there." "It would be perpetual sunshine for me, _querida_, if you came to England," said the Prince. "And the people fight. The mere talk of war gives me the megrims." "Were you in England, the fighting would end. Let them but see you once, and they never would do aught to cause you pain." "The good people, it is said, too, wear mighty uncomely clothes." "For this many a year they have been wearying for you to come and lead their taste." "_La_! Don Tomaso," said the lady, "you do flatter me. I wonder if all buccaneers are as pretty of tongue?" "Donna Clotilde would make a dumb man find phrases to express his adoration." "Fie, _Señor_! the truly dumb can never speak." "_Querida_, even had I been truly dumb, I should have forced out some few speeches for you." The lady laughed. "Then what a thousand pities, _amigo_, you were not dumb!" "Your wit is bright, and I am dull. I must ask your pardon. I do not take you here." "Why, _Señor_, had you been dumb, you would have said less. Being vastly glib, you have said too much." "Still I do not see." "It is the history of Master Thomas Benson that I speak about. You have given it me a score of times, and it does not tally: you forget the details. At one telling, Master Benson is a rude sailor, and has been bred to the sea from his youth up. Next, as a lad he fought in Continental wars, and lingered in dungeons. Now he rides at Rupert's right hand in English fights, and anon he gets swept away by his own narration, and forgets, and leads the charges himself. Now he pictures his wife settled down in a comfortable farmstead; and a minute hence he will be talking of courts as familiar as though he had never seen aught coarser. 'Twas all prettily told, _amigo_, and," she added, sweeping a great courtesy, "I thank you for the telling. Nay, I must crave your pardon too. I should not have slipped out the _amigo_; I should have done credit to my bringing up, and said 'Your Highness'!" The Prince made no attempt to snatch back his disguise. "_Señorita_," he said, "whatever may be my quality, I trust I have done nothing that you should withdraw from me the title of friend." "My Prince," she answered, "I am a Spaniard first and a woman next. You have come into my country as an enemy, and disguised as your own envoy." "You can have a fine revenge," said Rupert lightly, "and get it easy. One word to your honoured uncle, and all further trouble will be taken from your dainty hands. And I doubt not," he added, with a shrug, "that within the hour all further thought will be chopped from my shoulders." From behind the shrubs, the secretary could hear the lady shudder. "I would rather compound the matter with your Highness, if it could be done." "For myself," said the Prince, "in losing your esteem I lose all that is worth caring about." "You have not lost it," she cried--"you have not. But what you were asking is a thing impossible. Princes must not marry maidens of rank as low as mine." "Must not!" quoth Rupert blackly. "Who shall prevent it? I am a strong man, and myself make laws for myself. Who will prevent it?" "I," she murmured; "because of--how did your Highness word it?--esteem, yes, because of my great and burning esteem for you." And at that (to the poor secretary's bitter mortification) he took her tightly into his arms, and rained kisses on her upturned face. Again the war of words rose between them, but this timid little doll of a woman could be as firm as the Prince. Marry him she would not; go from Caraccas she would not; betray the Prince (as in his madness he besought) she would not; and yet she demanded one thing of him--a costly enough keepsake. He was to leave as he had come, a poor man in a single ship; he was to forego all pretences to the ransom; and he was to give his word, as a chivalrous gentleman, to jettison all ideas of harrying the place and helping himself to its treasures. "I am a woman," she sobbed, "that loves your Highness dearly. But I am a Spaniard who loves her country more." "And I," said he, "can continue to love such a true lady, where I should have lightly forgotten a traitor. _Querida_," he said, "I know your will about this matter, and I know my own: neither will bend. I shall go away in an empty ship as I came, and never shall I come to seek you here again. But I shall pray to God to bring us together in some other place, and till that day comes I will never call any woman wife." "And hear me," she said. "I swear also----" But he closed her lips. "No," he whispered: "I will not have any promise of you, _querida_. Woman are placed different from men, and policies may turn on giving their hands in marriage. I would not have you forced to wed, and then always be pestered by remembering an unfulfillable vow. I would rather have you free, and then, if God wills, we shall come together some day and marry; and if not, we shall stay forever apart." "Yet I will----" "No," he pleaded, "do not give me your pledge in return, or else you will send me away still more unhappy." And then, bareheaded, he knelt and kissed her fingers--he that had a moment before been kissing her so madly on the lips!--and then with stately courtesy he led her back into the palace. He and she were in turns closeted with the Governor that night, and the next morning an escort with covered litters borne of four paraded in the palace _patio_. The Prince gave no sign of what had happened: he was debonair as a man could be; and he was "Master Thomas Benson" still. He made his adieux as though he were a favoured ambassador taking leave of the court of a king, and he and Master Laughan entered the litters. A trumpet sounded, and the bearers and the escort stepped out across the pavement. A window-shutter opened, and a slender arm stretched out fluttering a dainty kerchief, and then the litters passed out to the glaring street beyond, and the episode was over. Down they went by the way they had come up, past the forts, and over the drawbridges of the gorge to La Guayra, the port; and on the mole a galley with slaves was in waiting to take them out to the little brigantine. But the envoy asked for another half-hour of delay. "I have a small outstanding account which it would please me to close," said he, "before leaving your very desirable town;" and asked that the captain of the port might be notified of his presence. The fellow came up, nothing loath, and saw some very pretty swordsmanship before he was run through the shoulder; and then, distributing a handsome largess of pearls to the escort who had brought them down, the envoy and Master Laughan were rowed off to their little brigantine, and so once more to sea, and further adventuring. The Prince was thoughtful and full of sighs; but the humble secretary thought that the perilous sea had never before looked so friendly and pleasant. [Illustration: MASTER LAUGHAN ENDEAVOURED TO OUTDO THEM ALL IN DESPERATION AND VALOUR] CHAPTER V THE PASSAGE-MONEY Now what follows must I think be taken as direct proof that Providence concerns itself with extra diligence on behalf of great gentlemen who have the birth and parts of Prince Rupert. No prospects could have been blacker than ours when we set sail again in the little brigantine from La Guayra. Of food we were well-nigh destitute; the little water remaining to us stank; the vessel herself had grown even still more leaky through straining at her anchor amongst the rough seas of the roadstead; and (as though out of sheer aggravation) one of the black slaves had died, leaving only three to carry on the necessary work. Than bailing water out of a leaky vessel's bilges there is no labour more detestably menial; but a Prince of birth can be drowned by a ship swamping beneath him as glibly as a common sailor-man; and so as the remaining blacks showed clear signs of exhaustion, Rupert and his humble secretary had to take their turn at this occupation, and ply their utensils too with lusty vigour. It was extraordinary how fluent were the leaks. "They say that witches do sea-travelling in baskets," said Prince Rupert once. "I wish we had one aboard here to teach us the trick, if indeed this basket is not too large-meshed for a witch's skill." His secretary looked at the dim line of the coast. "Anything would be better than staying here to be drowned like puppies under a bucket. It tears me to think that your Highness's dear life should be in this horrid danger." "My dear life has been in worse case many a time when it was more pleasant to me, lad. And now that it is soured somewhat through thought of a certain lady, why, there you have all the more reason why it will not be cut short. I quite agree with you that there is a strong need that we should find soon a scheme to better our position; but at present I can think of none; and as for taking another turn on the shore yonder, why, that I flatly refuse to think about. I have no appetite for plunging about those pestiferous mangrove swamps till the Spaniards starve us out, and take us by sheer numbers and strength. In fact, I do not want to appear next before the Governor of Caraccas as a prisoner, Master Stephen. You will doubtless appreciate many of my reasons." And there the poor secretary, being in truth a maid herself, and passionately enamoured of his Highness, turned away and faced the glaring sea, lest the jealousy that consumed her might be seen written upon her face. Though what Rupert could see in that creature puzzles her even to this day. But neither Prince Rupert nor Master Laughan, his secretary, could afford to keep their thoughts entirely on this Donna Clotilde whom they had left behind them still in the safe keeping of her uncle the Governor of Caraccas. Their present discomforts went far to wean them from the memory of what had immediately passed. Their hunger and thirst grew upon them; their limbs ached with the incessant toil of keeping the crazy vessel afloat; an intolerable tropic sun scorched them from overhead; and, as though their case was obviously desperate even to the fish of the sea, three great sharks swam after the little brigantine in convoy. Moreover, one of the blacks began to show signs of delirium, and had to be confined with leg-irons so that he should not leap over-side, and lose them his services. For three days this miserable voyage acquired to itself new miseries, and yet no plan came to the voyagers for lightening their case. In fine (and it is hard for the secretary to say such a thing about her revered patron), Prince Rupert lost his reckoning, and owned as much. He was at the best an inaccurate navigator, being brought up to nobler trades. And so there they were careering through a hot sun-scorched sea, with no land in sight, and the only hope remaining to them that if they kept at it long enough, they would, if they did not starve or drown first, fetch up somewhere in the long run. "We are true buccaneers now, lad," said Rupert lightly, "for viler navigators and more desperate blades never sailed the Caribbean. My courage would be equal to attacking a caravel single-handed now--especially if my nose told me he had a meal preparing in his cook house." As the sun lowered on that fourth day of their travel, a fog bank lifted out of the ocean ahead, a common enough sight in those unwholesome seas of the New World, and a breeding place for the calentura and other disorders. There is nothing in this you will say worthy of being commented upon in these memoirs; but when dark at last fell with all its tropical suddenness, this fog lit up with a glow, and as they drove nearer to it in their voyage, this glow seemed to collect and concentrate upon a centre. At first they had taken the appearance for some trick of the sun which in these regions often leaves a reflection in the Eastern sky that lingers long after its setting; but this glow endured too long, and moreover it grew more concentrated, and increased in brightness; and so there came to the Secretary's lips a suggestion that some island lay ahead, and that its savannahs had been fired by buccaneers to drive the game into their snares. "There may be a wholesome meal close ahead of us," said the secretary, "and afterwards, your Highness' charm will surely enlist some of these rude hunters into your service. It is my humble suggestion that Providence evidently intends us to find profit presently from some adventure ashore." "That may be," said Rupert. "But my own idea is that shore's as far off as ever, and that just now we're staring at somebody's ship ablaze. Look now; if we bale a little harder, we may dare to give this basket of ours a few square yards more sail, and so come up with her all the quicker." So they set the blacks to loose and hoist the two topsails, and sheet them home, and then took it by turns to assist the tired creatures at their intolerable baling. The Secretary will confess to have experienced a pang when the next half-hour's sailing proved His Highness to be right. On land once more, she could have shown a stout manner to whatever adventure or hardship lay before them. But land seemingly lay as far off as ever; indeed they did not even know its whereabouts; and here on this unstable sea poor Master Stephen was every minute forced violently to drag back her courage, lest it should slip from her shuddering breast and be overboard beyond reclaim. Indeed only the all-mastering love she bore for this adorable hero kept her from disgracing the livery of her borrowed manhood. But Rupert's courage was in no way dulled; indeed matters that would have daunted all other men (let alone maids) always heartened that great soldier; and, besides, with his infinite strategy he saw here ahead of him an opportunity for earning monies for his master the King at the Hague, whom he was so diligently endeavouring to serve. From the moment of making sure that the glow came from a burning ship, he was all of a fidget to make the brigantine move faster; and indeed his haste was natural, for as they drew more near, and the wind slackened, it seemed likely that the ship would burn to the water's edge and sink before he could come up and drive his bargain with her. They could see the vessel plainly now, a tidy-sized pink (or brig, to give her the newer name) with her bolt-sprit a mere flag of fire, her foremast already over the side, and the forepart of her hull little better than a bonfire of flames. The men upon her stood out black against the blaze which they fought so vehemently to subdue. They were massed for the most part in a mob on her aftercastle and as they drew nearer, Prince Rupert could see others standing on stages slung over the side, passing up water to quench the flames in every conceivable shape of pitcher, from ale-jacks to mess-kids. It cannot be said that the reckless fellows showed any outward fear for the horrid death that was already beginning to scorch them. They were chanting a psalm when the brigantine first drove within earshot; but apparently thinking they had done enough for their souls with this exercise, they presently set up some ribald drinking song which had acquired a dirty popularity in the taverns of Tortuga, and bawled it out full-lunged to the accompaniment of water hisses and flame-roar. With the glare of the fire dazzling their eyes, and the occupation of fighting it filling their minds, they did not see the brigantine till she sailed up through their smoke and rounded up head to wind just beyond pistol-shot; and when they did make the discovery, their behaviour was none too civil. Even had there been any doubt about their being French and English buccaneers, they proved it very plainly now. Spaniards would have shown panic and pleaded for their lives with threats and promises: these fellows were for taking what they wanted by sheer dash and impudence. "Just the packet we want, lads," roared the great rude creature who commanded her. "She's only a Jack-Spaniard, and'll be taken as easy as skinning a bull. Strip and swim for her. We'll come back and salve our plunder afterwards."--Upon which they all began to doff their draggled finery with astonishing haste. But Rupert stood up in the brigantine's rigging and called sharply for them to wait a moment and hear him. Upon which, catching the sound of his English words, they stopped their bawling and listened. "I am willing to give you passage, gentlemen, upon reasonable conditions. But my conditions I must have: you will understand I am no common carrier." The tall man who had spoken before gave voice. "You seem to talk very big, you in your small ship. I am Captain Wick. Who the devil are you?" Prince Rupert louted low. "I fear you will not know my poor name sir, though at home in England and Europe it has been heard some few times. There they call me Rupert Palatine." The tall man whistled. "You'll be the Captain that pawned his ships to old Skin-the-Pike in Tortuga?" "Monsieur D'Ogeron, the Governor, held some cavaliers who were my very dear friends, and no other way showed itself of ransoming them. Besides, I wanted their swords for my enterprises." "Well, gratitude's no crime, though there's many in these pagan seas thinks it first cousin to foolishness. No, I can't say I think any the worse of you, Captain Rupert, for what you have done." "Sir," said the Prince, "your approval overwhelms me." "Don't mention it," said Captain Wick, "and don't let us waste any more time in speeches. This perch here is getting hot. Take us off, like a decent man, and you have my word for it you shall be no loser. We gutted a fat Spaniard yesterday--a Seville ship he was, new out of Maracaibo--and after the fight, all our hands got so drunk, he had the ingratitude to slip away; and as we found ourselves afire in the forehold, we'd no time just then to set about rechasing him. I'll make free to own the fire was beginning to bother us when you came up." "It has a solid look about it just now," said Rupert, and he had to shout, for the roar of the devouring flames overtopped all quieter voice. "And so as a business man yourself you will be ready to pay all the higher for your conveyance elsewhere. It is well we should get these ungenteel matters of commerce settled first. It would put an unpleasant finish on our voyaging together if bad blood rose between us when the hour came for settling the bill for passages." Whereupon Captain Wick broke out into some very fierce and wrathful language. But Prince Rupert preserved an admirable temper. "Sir," he said, "I am new to this trade of passenger-carrying, and I trust I have too much niceness to make a commencement with a bevy of unwilling guests. Let me call to your mind that I am offering no compulsion. If you do not like my terms, I will draw off and continue my proper voyage, and as for you--why, you, sir, and your merry gentlemen can continue to tend your fire." It was clear that Captain Wick had fine appetite for another outburst of words and temper; but the growing heat of the flames behind was every moment worse to be borne, and so with a hard effort he kept his tongue civil. "Well," he said, "what are your terms?" "I do not want, sir, to drive too hard a bargain. I will not take more than you can offer." "Meaning all we have? That's gluttonous enough, anyway." "I did not come out to these amusing seas merely to study philosophy and refinement." "That I'll be sworn you didn't. You might be a common buccaneer like me, with a matelot ashore to provide for, from the keenness you show." "Why there, sir," said Rupert, "you have hit off my condition in a phrase. I was formally and solemnly adopted into your desirable Brotherhood after strict examination and full trial of my poor abilities, and I have a good camerade now meat-hunting ashore in Hispaniola. Even if I were disposed to forego my own advantage, I could not remain loyal to him and let this chance of earning moneys slip by me. It is a vital condition of our partnership that we share and share alike, and that each should do his best for his matelot." "You need not remind an old buccaneer of the first principle of the Brotherhood. How do they name your matelot?" "Simpson. He's a finely accurate shot." "A man well freckled with pock-markings?" "He is so distinguished." "Simpson and I have been shipmates. Well, I'll have no hand in defrauding Simpson--especially as I've small choice in the matter. But if the chance comes my way for driving another hard bargain, just you look to yourself, Captain Rupert." "Sir," said the Prince, "I've done very little else these some years. Do you answer for your crew standing honourably by the conditions?" "You shall swear each fellow for yourself when they come aboard. Man, make haste and bring that cockle-shell of yours athwart our stern. The bacon is beginning to frizzle on us already, and presently some of us will be cooked alive. I must say you make a rather poor show of your hospitality." "You will not blame me presently, sir. As it is you will enjoy the fare here. Had you come from anything short of desperation, I fear you would have turned up your honoured noses at its roughness." The brigantine's head was canted with the sprit-sail till she gathered way again, and she was so manoeuvred that Master Stephen Laughan, who was standing on the forward castle, caught a rope which was hove to him, and made it fast to one of the knightheads. Singly the buccaneers made their way down this from the high poop which towered above, each carrying a bag filled with the more valuable of the Spaniard's plunder to pay his passage, and each, as he dropped foot on the deck, was made to swear a most comprehensive obedience. A Bible, a crucifix and a naked blade were set ready, and the oath was taken on all three, so that whether the man was of the Reformed Religion, or Papist, or confessed no creed at all, one or other of the oaths was bound to pledge him, and so there would be no wriggling out through this very common bye-way. "By the Lord!" said Captain Wick, who was the last to come on board. "By the Lord, if formalities can make sound business, you should be in a fair way towards storing a fortune. By your leave I'll cast off this rope from the knighthead here and we'll get your cock-boat under way. My old ship is pretty well a-fire just now, and it's on the cards my drunken rascals were not very thorough when they set to drown the powder. The kegs were not all easy to get at in the magazine." "After your handsome behaviour," said Prince Rupert with a bow, "the least I can do is to put my poor ship entirely at your present disposal. You may set your crew to work her (for I will own ingenuously that mine are somewhat unskilled), and you may navigate her where you choose. But if I might venture to suggest, I should say that the sooner you could bring up with some land, or with some desirable ship of the Spaniards, the pleasanter it would be for all of us." Captain Wick stared. "You have a rum way of putting things," he said. "But let's go to your cabin, and talk it out over a cup of wine. I've a throat that's full of sand." "Why," said Rupert smiling, "I'm afraid the cabin floor will be a-slop with water, as when we pressed her with sail so as to come down to you the quicker, the leaks rather gained on us." "By the Lord!" cried Wick, fairly startled, "she feels sodden enough under the feet now you call attention to it. Why, your lower deck ports are well-nigh awash." "Oh, I gave the brigantine no certificate for seaworthiness, when I asked you to honour us with your presence." "Well, you're a cool one, anyway," said Wick, and gave sharp orders to his men to take a spell at the baling.--"But sink or swim, that doesn't alter my thirst, and if we can't wash our necks politely seated in the cabin, why, bid one of your blacks bring aft the wine on to the poop, and we'll drink to our better acquaintance there." "I fear, sir," said Prince Rupert, still with his best manner, "that you will think me most cursedly remiss, but our provisioning has been plaguely ill done, and there's not a drop of wine on board." Captain Wick stared still more, and then, as a thought struck him, he went to the scuttle-butt and took a sample from the dipper. "And your water stinks!" he spluttered. "Faugh! do you keep ducks in your casks? Man, tell me squarely, what entertainment is it that you have asked us to?" "Lean enough, I fear, but I have no wish that it should endure longer than is absolutely needful. As a buccaneer, sir, you are my senior, and I bow to your experience, but as a mere soldier, I should say that the strategy indicated is to go to the nearest place where provisions are stored whether it is afloat or ashore, and procure them in the handiest way which occurs to us." Captain Wick slapped his thigh. "Well," he said, "this is the maddest turn-out! You've neither meat, wood, nor water; you've a little old ship that leaks like a fishing net; you've no force----" "Ah, pardon me there, sir. You see before you two very good swords, who would be quite pleased to parade themselves against any other two you can put against them." "Give it if you like, you've an army of two, yourself and this slim youngster here. You must have left a very ugly place behind you to have sailed out so blithely into this fix." "In honest truth we did. But being here, sir, and having you and your excellent friends as companions, I repeat that the shrewdest thing at present seems to me that we should sail with as much canvas as we can carry towards the nearest meal. Come, Captain Wick, I'm still but raw in these seas, and you are likely to know far more where the good things are stowed. What do you say? Are we to get ashore and hunt bullocks? Or is there some convenient town to sack, or some castle to ransom? Or can you guarantee that we shall find a Spaniard on the sea, and get our next dinner from him before we are absolutely starving?" Captain Wick leaned up against the bulwarks and laughed. "This is like the old hard, wicked times once more, when buccaneers sailed cheerfully against an armada in a canoe--and sometimes took it. It gives me a thrill to be desperate again. I oughtn't to be merry, I know, but spit me if I can help it. I've lost my ship, I've been robbed of my lawful plundery, I'm out of the frying-pan into the fishing-net, but by the Lord, there's something too humorous about the whole adventure to let one work up a proper pitch of anger."--His face sobered with a sudden pucker of recollection.--"Rupert," he repeated, "Captain Rupert. Isn't it Prince Rupert I should have said?" "So I am more usually known." Captain Wick changed his manner. He lugged off his feathered hat and made a great bow. "My lord," he said, "you must excuse these manners I've been showing you. At first I thought you were a rogue, and then I thought you were a madman, and then I judged you were a fool, but I never guessed you were a born prince and there's the truth of it. I was only a common seaman before the mast before I drifted out to these seas of the New World, and earned distinction, and so at home I was not in a position to meet Princes, and here there are none to come across. But believe me, my lord, it gives me great pleasure now to make your acquaintance, and devil take the expense. Indeed I don't grudge the expense: Princes out here will want to make their bit like other men." The secretary, who stood near, looked for an explosion of his Highness' anger, for there were times when Prince Rupert could defend his dignity with great niceness and punctilio. For it was in Master Laughan's mind that this Wick was merely mocking her patron, since of all these rude buccaneers they had come across so far in the New World, they had not met one who showed a particle of reverence for a great name and exalted birth for their own sakes. But Prince Rupert, with his usual fine discernment, saw otherwise; indeed he understood in a flash that the man was dazzled at finding himself the guest of one who carried so illustrious a name: and he showed him some very pretty and graceful condescensions. The secretary, being by this time so thoroughly wearied out that her eyes would keep open no longer, heard dully the rumble of their talk for awhile, and then dropped off to sleep where she was on the bare deck, but not before a new course had been set, and sharp orders given for the re-trimming of tacks and sheets. The buccaneers, it appears, would have waked her to take a spell at the baling, being rude brutal fellows with but little sympathy for gentility and a slim figure; but the Prince so pleasantly asked them to desist, at the same time speaking so handsomely of the secretary's youth and previous labours, that of their uncouth condescension Stephen was permitted to further enjoy plank bed undisturbed. I am free to confess that the meeting with Captain Wick and his men, let alone from the sums earned as their passage money, was indeed fortunate from another respect. That Prince Rupert had high military genius, no one who reads these memoirs, and the other histories specially written upon his person, will for a moment deny. But the fact cannot be got over that if the brigantine had stuck to her original course, his Highness and the others on her would have starved, if indeed they had not drowned first. For the nearest land (if indeed they did not miss it) was distant a week's sail that way, and the seas in between practically desert. But this Captain Wick, if rude, had at least local knowledge and no particular appetite for starvation, and so by his hint the brigantine was headed for Curassou, which island it appeared was conveniently close at hand. Let no reader think that in owning this, Master Stephen Laughan wavers for one instant in loyalty to Prince Rupert, and profound admiration for his wonderful powers. But the fact is the island was out of sight below an horizon, and guessing at an island's position, when indeed you have never before heard of its existence, is but dangerous seamanship. As Wick himself owned the place had small enough fame. It had neither mines nor pearl-fisheries; the Spaniards did naught but gather salt there; and as this commodity would not attract buccaneers, who liked more profitable valuables for their purses, there were no fortifications to protect the works or the labourers. "But, your worship," said Captain Wick, "at present we need comestibles more than cash, and I take it that these fellows on Curassou, humble though they may be, must have some sort of food on hand to stow in their bellies. And besides, salt-making should be one of the thirstiest trades imaginable, and there you see that drink, and much drink, is clearly indicated." And in fine this prophecy came very near to the truth. In the harbour of the island they found two vessels of the salt gatherers and a well-stored village ashore all practically undefended, and these they took without opposition. At this point though the very nasty customs of the buccaneers nearly caused a breach--and indeed would have brought about complete severance of the parties if the secretary had had the choice. For the rude fellows, after their usual habit, when the materials for debauch were ready to their hands, had not the smallest mood to go abroad for further earning, and in this Captain Wick (that was none too sober himself) to all practical purposes gave them his countenance. "Master Prince," he hiccoughed solemnly. "I am your most obedient servant to command, but you mustn't ask me to make water run up hill, or to cause handy liquor to cease from running down a thirsty buccaneer's gullet. They are common fellows, common as dirt every one of them, and they haven't the gentility and niceness that is natural to you and me. And moreover, as a buccaneer's life is often a short one, he strives to make it as merry as may be. Besides as you are one of the brotherhood yourself, you ought to fall in with the custom. I'm sure Simpson, your matelot, would not be pleased to see you deny yourself. Come, my lord, what do you say, if you and me, that are their superiors, condescend a little and go and take a turn down yonder ourselves?" The Prince very civilly declined, but still this Wick must needs persuade him further. "Of course it's not what me and your lordship are accustomed to, but there's entertainment in it. A buccaneer when he's ashore is a rarely humorous fellow. The Spaniards were asked to provide a fiddle, or some pipes, or at least a drum for harmony; but it seems they are leanly enough furnished with both talent and instruments; and so the beggars have been stood in a row, and bidden to whistle jigs as dance music. The boatswain's been appointed bandmaster, with a rope's end for baton, and I can tell you he's making a dandy orchestra."--Captain Wick fidgetted with his feet--"Oh Lord," he said, "watch 'em dancing. I just must have a turn myself. Here, Master Laughan, you're slim, and should make a most ladylike partner. Come along." And with that he clapped an arm round the poor secretary's waist (that was like to have died with mortification) and set off into absurd capers, keeping time to the whistling, till the pair of them were brought to a stop through sheer breathlessness. Prince Rupert (it is painful to relate) was in one of his whimsical humours, and, far from interfering, only laughed and shook with merriment. "Keep it up, Stephen, lad," cried he. "You fling a fine leg. By my faith, you dance the best maid's steps of all of them. Ho! you other blushing, bearded, lady buccaneers, mince your steps like Master Laughan."--And when the secretary came back flushed and angry to his side, and would have reproached him with a look, "Pooh! lad," said he, "you're none the worse. There's a bit too much of the pedant about you at times"--At which the poor creature tried to smile, though in truth she was but an ace off tears. Of the two vessels of the Spaniards which they met in the harbour, one was fired, as they had no service for her, and the other careened, breamed, refitted and loaded with the brigantine's treasure and puny armament. The brigantine herself, being left unbaled for a dozen hours, quickly sank out of further mischief's ways. The orgie of the buccaneers, when one came to measure it up afterwards in the cool blood of the historian, was in reality short, for these disgusting creatures consider lavishness the highest gentility, and waste double what they use. But once the liquor casks were drained, they were ready enough to start out for the next venture. The sun poured down upon their working with intolerable heat; the beach reeked with the lees of their spilt rum; and the fellows themselves, though they stuck manfully enough to their labours, carried swinging heads and crabbed tempers. The Spanish prisoners who were set to the more menial tasks came in for rough usage when their diligence slackened. But at last all was ready once more for sea, and after the custom of the Brotherhood of the Coast, a meeting was held at which each man was the equal of his neighbour. They were done with one voyage, and this, _ipso facto_, disrated the lot of them, and forthwith they set themselves to elect officers for the next, and to decide on a cruise. Now all who read these memoirs will at once think that with so brilliant a commander standing idle at their side, these rude fellows would at once have made humble petition to Prince Rupert that he would condescend to lead them. But I can nohow describe their uncouth rudeness more blackly than by relating that they did nothing of the kind. In fact but one name was mentioned, and that was Wick's; and they elected him with shouts, and saluted him with a ragged volley from their buccaneering-pieces. For boatswain, too, they elected the fellow who had served in that rating before. But their quartermaster had, it appeared, been killed; and as there were two rival claimants for the office with equal followings, each ready to fight for their man, Wick saved civil war by suggesting that the Prince be appointed. Here was a way out of their impasse, and they took it as such, though without any show of enthusiasm, and Rupert was gracious enough to accept their nomination. The readiness with which he could adapt himself to his companions for the moment, was a singularly lovable feature in this truly great man's character. In general meeting also the plan of campaign was openly discussed and voted upon, all, by the rules of the Brotherhood of the Coast, having an equal say in this matter before the cruise commenced. Indeed Wick himself drew attention to this freedom of discussion, and pointed out that if anyone of the company could put skill or information into the general fund, he was bound by the laws to give it. "We Brethren of the Coast," said he, "have our phases. Ashore we have our frolics. But afloat we are all for earning. That comes first always; and though causing annoyance to the Spaniard can generally be done at one and the same time, that is not to be looked upon as a serious occupation, but only one to give relish to the other. Now for myself I feel bound to make the suggestion that we can begin our earning here at present in Curassou by charging a high rate of freight for any specie we are asked to carry." For a moment the buccaneers did not catch his meaning. But someone shouted, "There's a riposte for our smart quartermaster," and then they all burst into roars of laughter, wagging good-humoured fingers at the Prince, and crying out that hard bargaining made good profits. "Of course," said Rupert, "I'm with you there entirely, gentlemen. Indeed, am I not an interested party, seeing that this cruise is to be worked on shares, after the ordinary laws of the Brotherhood? But I must ingenuously confess that I do not see the merchants who will offer you even small freights to be carriers of their specie." Upon which they laughed all the louder. "Why, you, sir," they cried, "you are our merchant. And we are the only carriers. The brigantine's sunk. But you will be dealt with quite fair. As quartermaster you will receive your due share from the common fund of what you pay in as merchant." "Gentlemen," said Rupert pleasantly, "your schemes of finance do credit to your nimble brains. But you see in me at present a banker rather than a merchant, or perhaps I should say a bank depositor. Do you take me?" They did not. But their faces sobered considerably. No class of men could be in company with Prince Rupert for long without gaining a high respect for his genius.--"My lord quartermaster," said Wick, "you're talking a bit too fine for these common fellows." "Well," said Rupert, "it's a hard thing to do, gentlemen, but I must avow myself to you as a coward. Transit of goods in these seas seems so perilous and so expensive that really I have been frightened out of risking it. There's some small fortune which it may come to your memory I earned a few days back--and for half of which I am responsible to Master Simpson, my matelot in Hispaniola. Gentlemen, believe me, my nervousness about that fortune is so great that I have decided to bank it with Mother Earth in this island of Curassou. And indeed, whilst you were having your frolic with the rum casks, I found a spade, and myself put the deposit in that good banker's safekeeping. We contrived matters, Mother Earth and I, that none should steal the key." The buccaneers bore no resentment at being further tricked. Indeed they let off their guns in compliment to their quartermaster's acuteness, and bade him now that he had taken up a new service, attend to the joint interest as cleverly as he had done before for his own. The Prince took them pleasantly. "If appetite gives wit," said he, "I should be a clever fellow just now. There isn't a buccaneer more greedy for plunder along all the Spanish Main. And for advice, there seems to me that only one course is open to us. Here is this ship that we have put in trim. You will note that four days ago she was a mere salt-gatherer." "We all know that." "Assuredly. I was but marshalling my arguments. Now salt is a very vulgar commodity, but it has its merchants and dealers, and this ship will have her proper port. I do not know what's the port, or what's its armament, but according to me, brethren, it's clearly indicated that this ship's port is the point for our attack. We sail there, arriving openly and in broad daylight. There's nothing hid. We'll set her old crew (who are luckily none the worse for their whistling) to work her into anchorage in their usual clumsy fashion, and for ourselves, we'll sit genteelly down in the hold as passengers and while the time (if it please you) with the dice. Then, when the moment comes, we can walk in and take possession before they have made any preparations for our reception. Come now, brethren, how does my scheme taste to your judgments?" "We should manage a surprise that way, my lord quartermaster," said Wick. "The question is, whether the place is worth it." "Ah, that point," said the Prince, "must be left to Captain Wick, who is geographer to this crew." "The truth is," said Wick, rubbing his chin, "the salt merchant belongs to Cumarebo, and it's a place I never heard that buccaneers visited." "There must be a beginning to every kind of experience," said Stephen Laughan modestly. "Quite so, my lad, but let me tell you your cleverness is more pert than longheaded. News always seems to get about if a town on the Main contains treasure, and Cumarebo makes its boast principally of a very vast cathedral and several barracks full of greasy priests." "Speaking as a Protestant," said Rupert, "I don't find that Popish idols and vessels do harm to my pocket when they're melted up into currency. My master, the King, at The Hague, favours Rome I know, but I do not think he would be so undevout as to refuse a loan because it happened to come from the coffers of his own church." "And my master," said Wick with a grin, "and that's myself, refuses deuced little that isn't too hot or too heavy to carry away. That's a good word of yours, my lord quartermaster, about the cathedral. Where there's priests there's sure to be plenty: I should have deduced that for myself." Three or four of the buccaneers were going to make objection, but he held up his hand for silence, mentioning them civilly by name. "I know that some of you, brethren, are good Catholics, but you are in the minority, and you'll be outvoted if you force a poll. Now, don't have any megrims, and you shall easy save your consciences. You'll go with us, and you'll do your work like the rest, and afterwards, when it comes to the division, you'll take your whack of plunder like the rest. Later, you can find a reasonable priest, and buy a full dispensation for a tenth of what you have pocketed." At which the objectors seemed very comfortably satisfied, and as all the others gave their full adherence to the scheme, they drank up what was left of the rum, fired a salvo from their buccaneering pieces to show that the plan of campaign was settled, and then got out to the ship, and so to sea. The buccaneers considered themselves very fine gentlemen during the three days that the voyage lasted, contenting themselves merely with giving orders, and forcing the Spanish prisoners to do all labour connected with the working of the vessel. Moreover it was their conceit that music should lighten the tedium of the journey, and so the Spaniards were set again to whistle. They were men of lugubrious countenance all of them, these prisoners (as who wouldn't be in the hands of these fierce sea marauders) and the sight of their efforts at music gave continual merriment to the buccaneers. Very galling, too, the practice must have been to their Spanish pride. But they had no mercy to expect from their task-masters. Indeed they were lucky to be let off so lightly. The higher humanity has no place amongst the fierce passions which sway men in these seas of the New World. With the Spaniards, their natural cruelty and the horrid Inquisition (blasphemously named holy) practise the most dreadful tortures upon all English and French that fall alive into their hands, and so when buccaneers of these nationalities lay clutch on Spaniards, their natural rudeness at times permits them to make some very gross retaliation. There was no starvation this voyage, but as there was no rum for orgies, the buccaneers swore that it was intolerably slow, and crowded canvas on the vessel till they were like to have whipped the masts out of her. But the reckless fellows had no appetite for caution. When they rose the shore line of the Main, however, and presently would come in sight of the town which they hoped would yield them fortune, Captain Wick for the first time asserted his command. With jests and curses and blows he drove all down below to take up residence upon the salt in the hold out of sight, and the Spaniards who were on deck he compelled with very horrid threats into complete obedience. "How would you take your vessel into harbour?" asked he of the poor wretch who had once been captain. "With half the sail she spreads at present," said the fellow. "Then trim her according to your nerves and your habit," cried Wick. "And see to it there's nothing suspicious in our entering the harbour. If an alarm spreads, my man, before it's intended, I'll set my bull-skinners below to flay the hide off you living, and then I'll take you on to the beach, and roll you in sand. Grit your teeth on that, my man, and see to it your service is as I've ordered." Only Wick and the Prince remained on deck with a disguise of Spaniard's clothes and headgear to cover them. The secretary was thrust below with the rest, and was forced with much mortification to listen to the lewd talk of the buccaneers, and moreover to stand as a butt to their ribald jests. Oh, let any maid who thinks of following to the wars a man she ardently loves, weigh well the odious talk and treatment which she will have to pass off smilingly. Time and again, as they passed the bar, and bore up towards the anchorage, did Wick and the Prince cry down the hatchways that those below should cease their noise, but some funny fellow would always shout back a quip or start a new song, and away the whole lot would go again, ranting and roaring in chorus. And at last it seems Wick lost patience, for he drew on the hatch-covers as an extinguisher, and left himself and the Prince alone on deck cut off with the eighteen surviving Spaniards. Still there was little fear that these would prove unruly. They had tasted too well of buccaneers' discipline already. In the pestilent heat of that hold, above the salt, the poor secretary gasped and stifled, praying that any risks of battle might be given her in exchange for this confinement, and indeed when the time did come for skirmish, the poor creature was strung to such a pitch of distraction that she performed some deeds of bravery which even these rude buccaneers (that in truth are brave enough themselves, and not over given to praise) clapped at in admiration. The surprise of the town, as well it might have been, was complete enough. The Spanish captain drove on past the anchorage and laid the vessel up alongside the steep mud bank of the river. A gate of the town lay close at hand just beyond the muddy foreshore, with traffic pouring in and out, and here was a most desirable place for any buccaneers to make their in-rush. It appeared at first that the attack might be leisurely and well ordered, but one of the Spaniards on board, spurred on either by recklessness, or patriotism, or hate, or all three combined, cried out to friends ashore that the Philistines were upon them, and although he was promptly cut down by Wick for his pains, the very act put a guarantee of faith on his testimony. A shout was raised by those that did their business on the beach that the buccaneers were come, and wild panic ensued. All rushed for the gate, cumbered with whatever goods came first to hand. Too frightened to discriminate over the salvage they might be, but the greed instinct was too strong in them not to pick up some sort of burden, even though it was merely a broken crock or an empty cask. And at the heels of the mob raced Prince Rupert and Captain Wick, whilst the ship vomited yelling buccaneers through her hatch. Those inside laboured to shut the gate, those who had not yet passed through struggled fiercely for entrance. In the rear of the fugitives was a great waggon laden with bales, and when this was just in the act of passing the doorway, Wick and the Prince came up. They were alone, for Stephen Laughan who was the first of their following to get clear of the ship, was still a hundred paces behind at the further side of the beach. And with the strong guard that was inside, the gate would have inevitably been slammed to, once the wain was drawn clear through into the street beyond. "Hamstring the horses," panted Wick, who was near burst with running. "No time, my Captain," said Rupert, and drew a pistol and steadied it over the crook of an elbow. Down went the off-horse to his shot, and its struggles threw the other, and there was the gate as neatly blocked as one could wish. "Surrender," roared Wick. "Give up everything you've got, or we'll slit every throat in the town." But there was no officer in authority at the gate to give a command, and the warders and the townsfolk ran away howling through the narrow streets, each thinking first of his own greasy hide. The pair of them stood in that gateway alone till the rest of the buccaneers came up, and by this time the bells were being rung backwards, drums and trumpets exuding their noise here and there, and all the elements in force which go to make a fine confusion. But buccaneers are not men very easy frightened, and the uproar only pointed out to them the panic of the enemy. "Now, brethren," cried Wick, "after me at a smart run, and we'll pay a polite call on the Governor's palace. And mind, no straggling. No stopping for bits of plunder on the way. Do as I order, and I'll find you the wherewithal to get drunk for a month on end. And if any dog amongst you disobeys me," he roared, "I'll cut his liver out. Come along, my lord quartermaster," and with that they led the way at a round pace. But presently it was clear that the troops in the place were being roused and accoutred, and though we cut our way through the first few bodies that opposed us with ease and derision, presently others began to throw up barricades and to man the houses on either side, and the musketry of these galled us shrewdly. There were not so many of us that we could afford to lose men liberally, and Prince Rupert, had he held the command, would, the secretary feels certain, have solved the difficulty by sheer fine generalship. But Wick was Captain, and Wick led the way with a bold confidence. He had no trace of an idea in which quarter the Governor's palace lay, but he thrust out his sword before him and followed it with a brazen courage. Still at last even Wick could not but see that his small tail of men was being eaten away piece-meal at this disastrous game, and when the Prince made a suggestion, he was glad enough to follow it. There was little enough of honour to be found in this rude street fighting and (it seemed) less of plunder. "I've a curiosity to see their pretty church plate," said Rupert, "before the priests can take it away into hiding. What say you, Captain, if we stroll that way now? The sights in this quarter are too commonplace to be interesting." "It's all one to me, your grace," said Wicks, with his best bow, "and at any rate we shan't miss the way to that. What fools these churchmen are to build towers that can be seen so clear above all the rest of the houses." Gallantly they charged in this new direction, and like furies the buccaneers fought on in their wake. There was no quarter either asked or expected, and if a man was wounded he must struggle on as best he could, or be content to be left by his friends and get despatch from the ravaged householders who followed at the heels of the fight. It was at this point, where indeed they were most heavily pressed, and like to have been swamped by sheer weight of enemy, that Master Laughan out of sheer ill-temper at the slights these rude fellows had put upon her during their previous intercourse, endeavoured to outdo them all in desperation and valour, and indeed won several frank compliments from them which soothed her wounded feelings very pleasantly. For indeed a maid, though she be timid by nature, and need much heart-bracing before she be nerved for a fight, can do with pretty things being said about her sword play as well as other people. And so the fight continued with amazing fury till at last what were left of the buccaneers hewed their way into the great church, and so won breathing space not before it was needed. The Prince and his secretary and a dozen men stood guard upon the door, and Wick and the rest set to work to glean their harvest. At first they found little enough, and in the exasperation of the moment a good many of the place's embellishments were badly spoiled. But presently they came upon a priest in hiding, and although the poor man at first disclaimed all knowledge of the treasure, he soon sang a different tale when the buccaneers set about sharpening his memory in their rough-and-ready fashion, though indeed he did scream very dreadfully before they induced him to tell. But in the meanwhile Prince Rupert and his party had been doing their share towards the common weal. A great crowd of troops and citizens had been gathered in the square outside the church, and in two sudden sorties they contrived to capture some two-score of these and drag them back as prisoners inside the defences. There was a fine discrimination of persons in the manoeuvre. Each buccaneer seized upon the Spaniard whose clothes struck him as the most rich, in the hopes that he was dressed only as befitted his rank, and in this rude theory there was little error. The silly Spaniards are very strict upon their sumptuary laws. It was in truth these involuntary hostages which gained the invaders a leave to depart. The treasury of the church had been ransacked to the bare boards, and the plunder made up into parcels convenient for carriage. But every minute the force outside had been growing in numbers and adding to their materials for offence. It seemed a thing impossible that the buccaneers should ever cut their way back to the river's bank and the ship. But Wick came out and faced the crowd with a brazen assurance. "Look here," he said, "you people. We've got what we came for and we're ready to go. If you want more fighting, such as you've had a sample of already, by the Lord, we'll give you a belly full. You see this fine gentleman who's assisting me? That's Prince Rupert, who's come all the way from England to make a bit out here. And let me tell you you don't get a Prince amongst you every day. I'm Captain Wick, whose name you'll have heard often enough before and will again. Now if you're for further trouble, just say the word, and I'll fire this church in twenty places, and you can set about extinguishing it. We've got ten of your biggest men with us as hostages, and if you give us a quiet passage through the town, and let us get on our ship again unmolested, I'll make you a present of them sans ransom. But if you give me trouble, all that these good caballeros will want further at your hands will be ten little funerals. There, good people, there's a civil offer for you, and I want a reply straight and quick.--Inside the church there! Blow up your matches and stand by to fire the woodwork." That the Spaniards have pride there is no denying, and had those in authority been able to speak their own mind, with such a large body of troops at their disposal they would never have accepted the disgrace of giving safe conduct to the insolent handful of buccaneers. Church and hostages would doubtless have been sacrificed, but at least the pride and honour of those that survived would have been retained to them. But the hostages had wives and daughters who clamoured shrilly that they should not be sacrificed, and the other women of the place added their voices to the plea, through the dread of horrors which would come very short of an absolute sack, and in the end the men (perhaps in truth glad of the excuse) with a strong show of reluctance, gave way. Upon which out marched the buccaneers, careless of how near they had been to general massacre, and carrying themselves with their usual sturdy arrogance. Indeed, presently it occurred to one bright spirit that the success of the foray ought by rights to be celebrated by music, and so the pompous dons that were the hostages were compelled at the knife-point to whistle a cheery measure as they marched, and a very droll sight their faces presented to the onlooker. Now it is hard for the historian of one who, like Rupert, is born by nature to be a leader to be compelled to own that another could supplant him in a leadership, and still bring his campaign to a prosperous issue. Still harder is it to write of the success of this man Wick, whose gentility was aped, and sat upon him untidily; who was indeed a vulgar fellow; and who on occasion got very nastily drunk and made ridiculous an inoffensive secretary like Stephen Laughan. But the plain truth must be set down that the conduct of this expedition by Wick was by some extraordinary freak of fortune entirely successful; and though a tidy number of the buccaneers were killed, it is not the custom of the survivors to waste superfluous regrets on their late companions. For whatever can be said against the murderous forays of these men, it can never be held that they value their own lives any more highly than they esteem the lives of their enemies. But the secretary can at least look back with pleasure at a little scene which was brought about by this adventure. The buccaneers marched down the streets of the town always on the keen alert, and presenting a very ugly front and rear. They had a contemptuous distrust for the good faith of the Spaniards. But they were not molested. And in due time they passed out through the Watergate, got on board their ship, and then honourably fulfilling their engagement, gave the hostages enlargement, though with some impertinence, requesting that they would whistle them out of ear-shot. Then they poled off from the shore, hoisted their topsails, set the courses and mizzen, and stood out over the bar to sea, and those that were wounded--and these were most--had for the first time leisure to tend their hurts. But when the bar was passed, and the swells of the open sea once more swung the ship over their breasts, Captain Wick gave a compass course to the helmsman, and took off his hat with a great bow to Prince Rupert, and laughed. "That direction you've set should take us back to Curassou," said the Prince. "That's what my navigation intends, your Excellency." "And to the harbour from which we came?" "It comes to my mind there's more profit to be got there than elsewhere." "In the matter of those freights that we spoke about?" "Why, there you've hit it to a nicety," said Wick, rubbing his hands. "All's fair in love and buccaneering. I still think you made us pay too dear for those passages." "So?" said the Prince. "Well, there, I suppose, Captain, we shall continue to agreeably differ. For a wager it was one of the Spanish prisoners who saw me bury the stuff." "You've guessed it," said Wick laughing. "I gave the man freedom for his news." "Very generous of you," said Rupert laughing also. "And he told you true; I did bury it there. Under three palm trees just at the back of your bivouac, was it not?" "That's the place," said Wick, "and if your lordship had been as old a buccaneer as me, you'd have gone a bit further off. You trusted too much to our drunkenness." "Why, no," said Rupert drily, "it seems to me I trusted just enough. In candid truth I reckoned on being seen. In fact, I invited supervision." "Eh?" said Wick, beginning to look glum. "Why, you see, Captain, I argued like this: I'd charged for those passages what some might think a high price. I guessed that after you'd had your frolic ashore, some of you would be for getting back a discount: and in the meanwhile, as I didn't know how deep your drunkenness went, for aught I knew some of you might be watching me. So I buried the treasure where I might be overlooked, so as to satisfy the curious, and afterwards, at a quieter time, dug it up again, and reburied it elsewhere. Of course, if you like to take your spades and turn the whole of Curassou into arable land, you may stumble upon my banking-place, though I doubt it; but I think your time could be spent to greater profit elsewhere." Now there is no doubt that Wick was greatly annoyed at this turn which affairs had taken, but he had the wit to conceal his chagrin. To go back to the island and dig at random would be mere foolishness, and his crew would be quick enough to tell him of it. For the authority of these buccaneer commanders is in truth shallow enough, and for anything like a reverse, or a piece of policy which does not prove immediately profitable, a captain is deposed with promptness, and another set up in his place. The which would not have suited Wick, who was very big with his position. So after a meal and a sleep, when the crew were rested, a council was called of all hands to decide upon future movements, and the incident of the passage money was dropped then, and, so far as Master Laughan knows, for always. But when Prince Rupert was restored to his fleet, he sailed round to that quarter and dug it from the place where it was hidden, namely, in the rough sands of the seashore, where the tide ebbed and flowed twice in the course of each natural day. And so in due time the treasure came to the hands of our gracious king at The Hague, and played its slender part in bringing about the blessed Restoration. CHAPTER VI THE MERMAID AND THE ACT OF FAITH Surely men were never born with less eye to the future than these Brethren of the Coast, or Buccaneers, as they are more modernly named. Apart from slaying the wild cattle of Hispaniola and bucaning the resultant meat, their two sole industries were fighting and spoiling the Spaniard in the Carib Sea and on the Main, and then frittering away their hard-gotten gains at Tortuga over the wine shops and the hussies of the town, or against the cogged dice of Monsieur D'Ogeron, the Governor, up at his castle. It was in vain that Captain Wick and that most noble of quartermasters, Prince Rupert, pointed out to the ship's company dazzling schemes for future gain. "They didn't know;" they "weren't feeling greedy;" it "seemed but a doubtful investment," and two or three, more candid than the rest, would be condemned if they took the pains to earn so much as a single piece-of-eight more, till they swilled what had been got down their thirsty necks. In fine, they were men for whom the morrow was so risky that they had grown to the habit of living only for the day, and it was one of their highest ambitions to have nothing in their pocket, if they should chance to be killed, that would benefit an enemy's purse. [Illustration: 'OH, I SAY WHAT I THINK,' RETORTED WATKIN WITH A SOUR LOOK] So it was finally decided by a council of all hands to cruise back towards Tortuga, taking of course any gleanings in the shape of laden ships that they might be lucky enough to find on the way, and the poor Secretary's heart sank at the thought. She knew how unpleasant would be the attentions of the nasty hussies of that town to her revered patron, Prince Rupert. The meeting, however, with another ship of the buccaneers, sailing plunder-wards, put an end to this wretched plan with a pleasant suddenness. She was under the command of a Captain named Watkin, a rude, strong fellow whom the Prince had met before in a humbler capacity. Imprimis, Watkin and his company had themselves just sailed out from Tortuga, and left the place absolutely barren of liquor. This was enough to check Wick's silly fellows at once in their voyage. The newcomers' second argument was even stronger to bring about a conference. They had with them seven casks of rum, the last remainder of the Tortuga merchants' stock, and they invited all the ship's company to come across for a carouse there in mid sea. A gale was blowing at the time which would have made more cautious seamen snug down their canvas and get preventer tackles rove. But these reckless fellows argued that if they would have put their ship up alongside an enemy, never mind what weather prevailed, why then there was all the more reason why they should not be timid at rasping bulwarks with a friend when politely invited to despoil him of his liquor. So when due salutes had been fired by both sides, and noise enough made to scare the very fishes, the vessels were forced together, and lay there grinding and splintering and in imminent danger of causing one another to founder incontinently. With shouts and songs Wick's buccaneers scrambled over the leaping bulwarks, making passes with their sheathed hangers, which the others warded off with black-jacks and drinking horns. And indeed so fierce was their preliminary horseplay, and so shrewd their jesting blows, that two or three pairs drew and laid into one another in hard bloody earnest before the rum casks were set abroad and gave them other matters to think about. At first it seemed that the ships were to be left to their cuddle, and with the sea running as it was, and the heavy wind now filling the canvas and now setting it aback, the pair would not have been very long in knocking one another into their primitive staves. But Wick had some shreds of prudence left, and when the Secretary, desperately fearful for her dear patron's life, implored him to take some steps so that they should not all be uselessly drowned there together, the fellow with his own knife cut the grapples that held the ships to their deadly embrace, and made some of the buccaneers pass his own vessel astern at the end of a stout hawser. She rode there dizzily enough and with much jolting and creaking of fabric, but for the time she was beyond doing further damage, and moderately safe from receiving it; and meanwhile the crowd of buccaneers on the deck swigged at the rum, and roared their songs, and laughed and swore at the water which came swilling about their knees when the vessel in her rollings shipped a sea. It says something for the recklessness of these rude men and their love for carousal that they could have taken part in such a scene. They were in the midst of hostile seas, with no resources but their own for reliance; a gale was blowing that might well have sent timid folk to their prayers; neither crew had (as it turned out) above four days' food between them and starvation, and yet they held as little dread of the consequences, and put as much heart into the rum-drinking, the dicing, the bawling of choruses, the firing of salutes, and the other ridiculous pranks of a debauch, as though they had been reeling about the wine-shops of Tortuga, or toping in the dinner-chamber of Monsieur D'Ogeron. Night fell, and the wind grew noisier (as is its custom with the dark) and the run of the sea became more dreadful; but none of these things taught them sobriety. Indeed when they had lit the ship with her battle-lanterns, they swore the deck was as good as a ballroom, and set to dancing and capering about, whilst the water which she took over her sides swirled and eddied about their waists. Only one item in the whole of that horrid night's array of terrors quelled these buccaneers even into a moment's sobriety. A cry, a startled cry, went up that there was a mermaid swimming close abeam, and the song snapped off in the middle of a bar, and the rum cup halted in mid-air. Some crossed themselves, some dropped on their knees and fumbled at a prayer, and a few pious spirits, less drunk than the rest, trolled out a quavering psalm as the best safeguard which occurred to them. There is no doubt but what the courage of all of them was woefully shook, and the secretary, though indeed she could see no mermaid, owing to the blackness of the night, will ingeniously confess to being at one with them in their tremours. But Prince Rupert, with his accustomed bravery, rallied the ships' companies into steadiness again. He urged them to pass up powder from the magazine, and get shot from the racks round the hatches, and stand by the guns. And when Captain Wick and the other buccaneer commander chided him, he admitted plainly that he had never heard of a mermaid being shot, but at the same time professed his personal willingness to loose off a culverin or a saker at one if she should come within range. "It's my poor opinion, gentlemen," said he, "that the creatures have never been killed because no one as yet had the impudence to shoot at them. There must be a beginning to all things, and I am quite ready to take the risk of this matter on my own proper shoulders, if indeed I could see the mark. But to tell the truth I have seen no mermaid, and it's my belief there is none." "They sighted her out yonder, abeam," said Wick. "So I heard. But my eyes seem of but indifferent quality, messieurs. I've looked, but be split if I can see her. Mind, I offer no cause for quarrel: I do not say she has not been sighted: I merely say that my own eyes--and I've searched with some scientific curiosity--have not been fortunate enough to make her out. And what's more, I'm looking now and still can see nothing but shadows and water." Upon which Wick and the other buccaneers took their courage with both hands, and began to look out also; whereupon it appeared that the mermaid had sunk or swum away. The crews went back to the rum casks little the worse for the experience, but it was plain that Wick was shaken. "It's a warning," said Wick, "and some of us here will have to pay. A mermaid does not come for nothing." "I am ready to take my risks," said Rupert lightly. "Indeed, if the lady pays us a second visit, I shall hope to see her features more accurately. To tell the truth, Captain, I came out here with some curiosity about your mermaids, and water-monks, and other monstrosities of these seas, and it's beginning to die away." "What," said Wick, "your lordship's seen some of them and they were not so terrific as you looked for?" "Why, no," said Rupert, "the fact is I've seen none of them." Captain Wick dipped up another horn of rum and nodded his head over it. "Well, your Worship," said he, "here's hoping that when your education on the matter comes, you may not find it too disastrous. Every man who's sailed these seas for long knows what mermaids can do, and I tell you straight that I for one should be the last to anger them. The good Lord grant that the mermaiden we sighted meant nothing bad, though it sticks in my mind that she came as a warning. Here's luck and dry skins to us all," said he, and poured the rum down his throat. The coming of this mermaid, as has been said, sobered the buccaneers for the moment, but once she was gone again, rum soon washed the memory of her visit from their minds. They roared at their songs till the gale itself was outshouted, they danced about in the seas that swept the decks and tumbled foolishly in the scuppers, and not content with having the ship lit with her battle-lanterns, they must needs set a tar barrel blazing and flaring on the cook's sand-hearth, to the imminent peril of every soul on board. Wick presently was swigging at the rum, and playing the zany with the silliest of them, for it is the custom of many of these buccaneer commanders to curry popularity by joining in all excesses that may be going, and indeed outdoing all the others in their extravagances. But Watkin, the other captain, was a man of different stamp. He did not spare the liquor indeed, but drink had small effect on him. He was a man who had a mind for many things. As a ship-captain he owned but small experience, and indeed was forced to carry a sailing-master to use the back-staff and the other utensils of navigation. It was more as a woodsman, and a hunter, and an accurate shot that he carried skill. But pre-eminently above these he was a man with a brain enamoured of commerce, and it was because of the handsome and generous way in which he talked of moneys and gains that he had been elected to a captaincy. A man who can speak glibly and alluringly of profits can always find a strong following amongst needy buccaneers. "Anybody who likes can come round here and collect the dirty coppers," said Watkin. "I've no appetite myself for those small scrapings. And mark you, they're just as hard to get as the bigger things. I've seen Spaniards fight over a cargo of stinking bulls' hides with a fierceness that would have done them credit if they had been defending a plate ship. No, Mr. Prince, my idea is to go out with empty holds (which we've got now) and come back so loaded down with gold bars and plate that the decks are half awash. I've got no use for silks, and shawls, and chests of dainty clothes. I'm going to spend my time earning good sound silver and gold, or else know the reason why." "Master Watkin," said the Prince, "in your business ideas you are a man exactly after my own heart. It's clear to me you've got a place that's ready for a visit in your mind's eye, and probably had your plans cut and bucanned long ago." Watkin sipped his rum and winked. "Well, between you and me, Mr. Prince, I'm no great seaman, and I know it as well as the next man. So I leave sea adventures for whoever wants 'em, and for long enough I've been looking out for a place where one could earn a parcel of honest plunder elsewise. Now mark you, the Spanish towns on the coast are the best guarded, because they are always expecting visits from the buccaneers. So they cost many to storm and sack them. But further into the country the fortifications are built more for the look and comfort of the thing than for real use, because they think that buccaneers are web-footed creatures who dare not venture far away from the friendly sea. So my idea was to find my town inland, but yet not too far inland, because when buccaneers return with their plunder, few of them remain over from the previous fighting, and of these many are wounded and many are fever-struck, and the rest are well addled with drink, and such a convoy is easy cut up, as previous experience has shown." "You know the conditions of warfare finely." "You never said a truer thing, Mr. Prince. Here's to your health again, though I've drunk it before. And now, in your ear, the place that's going to fill my purse is named Coro. It lies just at the bottom of the Golfete de Coro. La Vela's the port, and it's some ten miles away to the Nor'-east and the passes between are sown with gates and forts and drawbridges, all built very superior." He took a small stained chart from his pocket, and unrolled it on the deck beneath the glow of a battle lantern.--"There's the place, Mr. Prince." "I see. Just on the neck of the Paraguana peninsula. Then, Master Watkin, if all preparations are made to resist entry on the Eastern side, I should say that a call could be made with less formality from the Westward." Captain Watkin smacked his thigh delightedly. "You've hit it in once. My strategy's this, Mr. Prince. I want Captain Wick to go in front of La Vela, and make all the noise there he's capable of. That will bring the troops tramping down to the batteries and fortifications, and in the meanwhile I with my merry men will work round into the Golfete and land at the Westward side, as you have said, and tumble in by the back door with few to stop us. I've taken care," said Watkin with a sly wink, "that there shall not be the full quota of troops in the place when we make our call, or rather I have done my best to that end. But as you'll know for yourself, Mr. Prince, these _engagés_ are not over and above reliable." "_Engagés_?" said Rupert. "I'm afraid I do not quite understand. Buccaneers' apprentices, do you mean?" "Just those. They were part of a cargo of prisoners the Lord Protector Cromwell shipped out to Tortuga--cavaliers or malignants he called them, but I am so long from home that I forget English politics now--and Monsieur D'Ogeron sold them to the buccaneers of Hispaniola. They were the _engagés_ of these same bright fellows who have shipped with me and whom you see drinking down there on the main deck now; and as they were ours, body and soul, to do with as we pleased, we set them ashore some forty miles from Coro as a species of decoy. Indeed we had only landed them a day before we came up with you, and were standing off and on to give them time to do their work. Their orders were to burn, sink, and destroy, to set up faction fights amongst the Indians if the chance came in their way, and in fact to do what they could to draw out an expedition from the town. You see my strategy, Mr. Prince?" "More clearly than your kindness to these _engagés_?" "Why, what better could they have? it is their bounden duty to make themselves of use to their masters, and if when they draw the Spaniards down about their ears they all get killed, why, by the Lord, they've only themselves to thank for it. They should have learned to fight better. They're not without promise of a fine reward to give them keenness. All who do their work and remain alive, and contrive to join us in Coro when we've took the place, will be given freedom, and made full Brethren of the Coast with due ceremony and rejoicing. Now I ask you, what better guerdon could an _engagés_ wish for than that?" Prince Rupert sighed. "I am a man that's seen a good handful of service, Master Watkin, but I fear I'm not up to the true buccaneer's standard of hardiness yet. And besides, you named these poor fellows as cavaliers, and it sticks in my mind that many amongst them will have been my old fellow-soldiers in the English wars." "If I were there to lead them," said Watkin, "I warrant I'd come through sound enough myself, and bring a good handful in at my heels. But I'll own they lack a leader. There are several amongst them who have borne officers' ratings, and I dare say could put troops through pretty exercises on a parade ground. But we want something more than mere drill-book out here, as I daresay you are beginning to learn for yourself. For you I take it, Mr. Prince, were once just a routine soldier." "My man," said Rupert, "I am not given to take offence where none is meant, especially from a fellow who is in his cups, but I'll not have my previous service sneered at, neither will I have unfortunate cavaliers spoken of with contempt." "Oh, I say what I think," retorted Watkin with a sour look. "Then, sir, you had better take your sword, and I will do you the honour of crossing it with mine." Watkin thrust out an underlip. "Mr. Prince," he said, "you may be a big man where you come from, but let me tell you, that you've a lot to learn about New World manners yet. Why, you set up to belong to the Brotherhood of the Coast, and here you're offering to break one of the first rules. Don't you know, '_all private disputes with a Captain, duly appointed, shall be left over for settlement till the end of the cruise?_' And further: '_Whoso draweth upon a Captain, duly appointed, that man shall be hanged, or put to some such other end as may be convenient?_' Let me tell you, too, there's no buccaneer in these seas that would dare to ride down those rules. Why, our good friend, Captain Wick, that takes such pride in having a man of title beneath him as quartermaster, would be the first to garter your neck with a rope. Indeed, I believe it would tickle Wick mightily if he could brag hereafter amongst the wineshops that once he hanged a _bona-fide_, genuine-made prince." "Let it suffice that I threw away most of my rank when I came to my present nasty company. But for the other matter, Captain Watkin, as I acted in ignorance of the rules, I am free to acknowledge my error. Your chastisement shall wait till the fitting season, and when it does come, I trust you bear me out that I have not omitted to add due usury for the delay. But touching the present, sir. The flavour of your company is vastly disagreeable to my palate, and I should take it as courteous if you would set me ashore in the track of these cavaliers who are my friends." "If you want to go and try your hand on the _engagés_," said Watkin sullenly, "you shall be landed to-morrow. I've had enough of your fine finicking ways on this ship. I'm not Wick." In this manner, then, was brought about the separation of Prince Rupert from the sea expedition of the buccaneers, and Stephen Laughan, who alone was set upon the shore of the Main in his company, was not sorry to be rid of their ungenteel society, thinking then, poor fool, that nothing could be more disagreeable. The beach on which they were cast was desert; the country beyond, mere forest and jungle; and for inhabitants, there were wild beasts and still wilder tribes of Indians. But somewhere in the country was a band of cavaliers, and after so long a divorce from these old companions, both Rupert and the secretary hungered mightily to come in touch once more with their manners and pretty conversation. Their chance of finding this band of forlorn adventurers was truly vague enough, but they were not without some trace of direction. "Here is the very spot where I set the fellows ashore," Watkin had said, "and you can see for yourself the fire they built to keep away the mosquitoes from their first camp. Who but raw fools would have advertised their whereabouts with a smoke like that? But this batch always seemed to think of comfort first and consequences afterwards. You see that saw-edged mountain inland? There's an Indian village in a dead line between the place of the fire and the highest tooth of the saw, and their orders were to make for the village first. It's likely they'll have carried those orders out, or they'll have starved else. They're such poor creatures that they've no sense to find food for themselves, even in a country that teems with food." This, in fact, was all the real direction that was given, and Prince Rupert was too proud a man to ask for more. The other buccaneers had bawled out wishes for good luck, civilly enough, as the pair were being put upon the beach, though all decided that the mermaiden must have appeared as a special warning to the Prince, and advised extra caution accordingly. The secretary, loving her dear patron so tenderly, and being so nervous for his safety, could not but fall in with this view, seeing that these rude mariners must have learned much of the omens and dangers native to the Carib Sea through sheer familiarity and custom. But Rupert would have it that the thing was preposterous. "As if a mermaiden at sea could have influence over an honest man seeking profit and adventure ashore," said he. "And furthermore," said he, "I don't believe there was a mermaiden at all." With which brave saying he led the way into the bush, the slim secretary following at his heels. The track was easy to follow. The cavaliers, with no knowledge of woodcraft, had cut their way through the bush, taking account of neither swamp nor thicket, and though one could not withhold admiration for their bravery and endurance, it was plain to see that they must have risked marching into an ambush for every yard of advance. Their labours must have been terrific. Even following in the made track taxed all the poor secretary's endurance. The air was a mere stew of heat, made still more horrible by the swarming mosquitoes. Serpents and wild beasts threatened one from the forests, and the morasses stank detestably of fevers. The work had been done at a heavy enough cost. Scarce a mile was passed without coming upon the carcass of some poor cavalier who had fallen, and been abandoned to die, and forthwith became the focus of a covey of disgusting birds. One man indeed they came upon with a tremour of life still in him, and the birds sitting round like ghouls on neighbouring trees. But he was beyond speech, and indeed passed whilst the Prince stooped over him, and when they left to continue their march, the rustle of wings from behind told that the birds had flown down to commence their meal. It irks the secretary to record matters so vastly impolite as the above in these memoirs, and indeed many things have been withheld; but in view of the grave events which follow, it is necessary that the desperation of this expedition should be clearly shown. What was the ultimate fate of the unfortunate band of cavaliers that Prince Rupert was following will probably now never be known. That they acted as a decoy, as Watkin had intended, was evident enough, for no less than three large companies of soldiery were despatched from Coro to cut them up. But none of these, so they afterwards stated, came across the raiders, and though they all found their traces, none had skill or endurance sufficient to follow them up. And so it appears that these poor cavaliers were swallowed up by that inhospitable interior which lets not even a rumour of its history escape to the outside world, and whether they were all destroyed, or whether stragglers of them married and settled amongst the Indians, will remain forever a sealed mystery. But of the two unfortunates who followed in their track, the history of their adventures (though it be merely one of unbroken misfortune) must be given with all its sorrowful detail. Though Rupert would have none of such morbid theory, the secretary, who in most matters agrees with her adored patron to the letter, cannot help recording that from the moment of seeing the mermaiden luck attended none of their efforts. They were bogged in swamps; they were tormented with the flies; they ate fruits which gave them colics, and suffered incessantly from the fevers which are inseparable from these regions. They were, in a word, half beside themselves with the torments which were native to the country, and if the secretary had been alone, or with any other leader, she is free to confess that she would incontinently have lain down to die five times a day. But Rupert struggled doggedly on, and though indeed he cursed aloud the fate which led him to an end in so detestable a country, and sighed a thousand times for one more wild charge in which he might ride to a genteel death at the head of his English troops, he never lost his valiant courage, and never had aught but cheery, pleasant words for his solitary follower. "Fortune may be blacker still, Stephen, lad," he would cry, "if it can invent a deeper tint, but I'll never give in to you over the matter of that mermaiden." In the end, however, they marched along in a kind of stupor, exchanging no words, and not possessing even the energy to brush away the mosquitoes from their swollen faces. They struggled on, hand-in-hand, clutching at branches and tree trunks for support as they passed them, and the maid, by reason of her fierce love for this adorable Prince, put forth powers of endurance which astonish her even now to look back upon. But when at length, in their blind, half-fainting condition they marched directly into a camp of the Spaniards, they were in no fit state for any elaborate display of attack or defence. It is true that Rupert did run one fellow through the lungs, and the secretary's feebling arm did guard her patron's back through fully two minutes from attack. But the outcome was beyond question. Their swords were trundled out of their hands, and they themselves beat to the ground through sheer weight of blows. Dully they looked for death, and had no spirit left to resent its arrival. A clubbed arquebuse poised over the head of the Prince, a sword was drawn back to stab through the heart of the secretary. But the officer of the troop came up just then, and was more farseeing than his followers. Prisoners from the English buccaneers were scarce, and naturally he wanted to parade his capture; and, after enjoying this pleasant triumph, why then (as he explained) the Holy Office would be gratified to take over the bodies of two such vile heretics, and presently would make them into a very popular public spectacle. Wrist and ankle irons are part of the ordinary accoutrements of these Spanish troops, as all Indians they come across they enslave--a very wasteful proceeding, one would think, as the creatures invariably die within the year, and are vastly inferior to blacks from the Guinea coast as labourers. But there the irons were, and quickly the prisoners were made fast and given food and drink, and left to recruit as best they could at the bivouac. The Spaniards made no further progress with their expedition: the taking of two English prisoners seemed to satisfy their greediest ambition; and when a day had been allowed them to regain strength, the column was put in motion again for a return to Coro. The prisoners were vigilantly guarded, but otherwise they were not ill-treated, for it was part of the captors' plan that they should enter the city looking healthy and vigorous, to give colour to the tale that they had been taken after desperate fighting and resistance. Indeed, the secretary, who, poor creature, was suffering from that seasonable fever which they call the calentura, was given a mule for her conveyance, and had the mortification of seeing her royal patron trudging beside her afoot whether she would or not. But prisoners are not allowed to pick and choose in these matters, and when Master Laughan would have leapt to the ground in spite of the guards, so that the Prince might ride as befitted his station, the fellows coupled that prisoner's heels beneath the belly of the beast so that submission was a sheer necessity. The Prince too laid strict commands upon the secretary on this matter. "We're in a tight fix," he said, "and we're fools to have got there. As like as not they'll give us a dog's death of it. But they shall have their sport out of me as an unknown Englishman and not as Rupert." The secretary urged a reversal of this decision. "No use," said the Prince. "They would hang me all the same if they knew my quality, only they would hang me higher. I have my miserable pride in the matter, you see. Let me be written down in Europe as "Missing" or "Vanished," if they choose; but I should die very uneasy if I thought the world was to know how squalid and obscure a noose it was that ended me." Still the secretary urged the point, saying that all men knew Rupert Palatine, and that even these dreadful Spaniards would not dare to do him violence, but would offer exchange, or honourable enlargement upon ransom. But Rupert closed the talk with sudden heat. "I forbid it and that's enough," he cried. "You grow insufferable with your advisings upon this occasion. And if you want a threat, I'll deny it if you do tell 'em my name, and curse you with my last dying breath into the bargain. So stick that in your mind, Master Laughan."--With which harsh words he lapsed into a dark, brooding silence, and the secretary, with her heart near to breaking with love for him, was constrained to ride the mule without further speech. It was the first time that Stephen Laughan had ever seen the Prince thoroughly cast down, and so evidently out of all spirit for the future, and of a certainty their case seemed absolutely devoid of any ray of hope. Truly the finger of the mermaiden was showing itself to any one who was not wilfully blind. Of that dismal progress to Coro, however, no more need be told. They arrived outside the city's walls on the fourth day at nightfall, and the commandant of the soldiers was torn with indecision. He wanted much to wait outside so as to make triumphant exhibition of his prisoners by next morning's light, and at the same time he feared the Indians who were constantly raiding up to the very walls of the city. And in the end dread of these Indians took the mastery, and the troop gained admittance through the gates, and they had to be content with what drums and a multitude of flaring torches could do to call attention to their show. There was no limit to the appetite of these Spaniards for triumph. It might have been an army they had captured instead of two fever-stricken weaklings. But no one of those who thrust their heads out from the windows and doorways of the houses cried shame on them for the paltriness of their exploit, and indeed all the town roused to acclaim these vainglorious captors by the name of hero, and to spit their nasty spite at the prisoners. Great mobs turned out into the streets, and jostled at the soldiers' heels. Here were a brace of these hated buccaneers, and they lusted to have their will on them. The smug citizen men would have smashed them to a pulp with their boot heels if they could have snatched them into reach, and the horrid women would have torn them like vultures with their nails. The Captain of the soldiers, however, was not minded that his credit should end with this popular triumph: he was a man with a keen eye to his own promotion, and he was wise enough to know that favour comes chiefly from their idolatrous Church in these Spanish cities. So with laughing blows he and his men drove the civilians back from their catch, and shouted out that they were foolish to hurry matters unduly. "The Holy Office may move slower than your own honoured progress," he cried, "but, _Señores_, believe me, it is very sure. It will take a vengeance out of these accursed heretics that you may lick your lips to think about, and there is a good chance that the city will be treated to an _auto da fé_. Ho! there, make way! Why do you want to claw a prisoner when presently you will see his skin crackling like a pig's as he roasts on the faggots? Stand back there, I say, or you'll have an arquebuse butt dropped on your honoured toes." The officer swelled with his triumph and made it linger by passage through many streets, and from out of the darkness beyond the glare of the torches came peltings of stone and garbage which made the procession for the prisoners a very martyrdom. But worse lay beyond. They drew up at last before a building whose horrid taint caused even the callous Spaniards to moderate their shouts and jeers. The officer too changed his bluster to a tone that was half-defiant, half-cowed as he faced the shrouded nameless creature that answered his summons at the gate, and the soldiers of the guard redoubled their watchfulness, knowing full well the desperation of any poor wretch that came within grip of the Inquisition. Indeed, had a chance been offered, the secretary, through sheer horror of her sex being discovered when handled by the torturers, would have thrown herself upon the weapons of the guard, and so earned a quick death, even with the dreadful knowledge that to do so would take her away from this princely patron whom she had so faithfully guarded, and whom she so madly adored. But the soldiers were ready for all such desperate attempts, and kept firm grip on the fetters, and when the cowled familiars of the Inquisition took over ward of them, and the doors closed, equal care was shown by these new guardians. "By my faith," said Rupert, "you do us high honour, _Señores_, with all this heavy escort. Buccaneers must be very lusty blades, or you Spaniards must be nervous by constitution. Why, _Señores_, it hardly stands to your dignity that it should take a round dozen of you to handle a couple of poor wretches that are chained at both wrist and leg." But the echoes of the cold stone passages gave the only answer to his words. The cowled, soulless familiars uttered no word of a sound. The sad procession wound down steps of stone, into a long row of dungeons smelling of earth, and of these there seemed an inordinate quantity, burrowed out from amongst the very roots of the city. In most was a dank, cold silence, but two emitted groans from some part of their black recesses, and from one the faint glow of a fire shone out into the alley, and with it came the smell of grilling flesh. But by no word or sound did the familiars show that they appreciated these things. They pressed on their way with noiseless tread, and held on to their prisoners with an iron clutch. They were most daunting gaolers. The prisoners were flung together into one dungeon, and the door closed with soft heaviness on their heels. The place was black as the grave, and smelt too like a grave of new-turned earth. The secretary lay on the damp floor where she had pitched, a prey to the worst despair. But the Prince undauntedly began to make exploration, treading with caution to avoid pitfalls which are common in these places, and not resting till with his hands he had traced out the whole of the walls and the floor. But at last he too flung himself on the ground. "We're built in all ways by cemented stone," said he, "so we need not risk our dignity by trying to break gaol. There's nothing against which we can grind these bracelets from our wrists and shanks, or we'll contrive to make a fight of it somehow and at least die like gentlemen. So we must e'en be philosophers, Master Laughan, and take what comes." "That woeful mermaiden----" said the secretary. "Pish! you fool. I tell you there was no mermaiden. It's the mere fortune of war, and it's my one consolation that they can do their ugliest on me and yet they'll not learn my name. It'll be a sharp time, lad, for both of us when they begin their devilish torturings, but I know you're as staunch as myself, and I thank you in advance for carrying out your service to me faithfully to the end."--And with that he turned on his side and promptly went off into heavy sleep. To the poor secretary no wink of sleep would bring relief. Death or torture she could have faced bravely; but the thought that her sex must be discovered drove her well-nigh crazy. For consider what it meant: Rupert would learn for the first time that she was indeed a maid, and he would die sickened at her shamelessness in following him, and she would die beside him, knowing that after all that had been endured, she had at the very last lost his esteem and affection. Wearily the hours dragged on, and how many they were cannot be told here, as there was no means of reckoning them. But at last the door opened and again those noiseless familiars entered, bearing lights. The secretary, poor soul, attempted a jest by way of carrying a brave front. "We think little enough of your inn, Landlord, so far," she gibed. "See to it that you improve the service from now on, or our recommendation will bring you little further custom." But they answered by no word, and as the cowls hid all of their faces, there was no way of seeing how they took it. Once more with iron grip these silent men took the prisoners in charge, five familiars to each, and led them out along the passageways. There was little enough of dignity about the judgment chamber of the Inquisition when it was arrived at. It was just a bare room, furnished meanly with a bench, a table and a curtain. And in the middle of the room the prisoners were drawn up and stood with the familiars, waiting. From behind the curtain from time to time there came the faint rustle of movement, and, in little gusts, the smell of burning charcoal and heated iron. There is a certain intolerableness about waiting like this when one expects the worst indignities that human ingenuity can put upon one; though that doubtless is part of the calculated cruelty on which this accursed Inquisition coldly prides itself. But Prince Rupert, like the gallant gentleman that he was, had a power of mind that rose above the pinch of the moment. An idea had come to his mind during the night for an improvement in that process of mezzotint engraving in which he was so interested, and calmly and scientifically, with his accustomed clear phrases he commenced to discuss it with the secretary. There was no mention in his speech of the perils which threatened them, no quiver of fear or annoyance lest his invention should be left incomplete by those who became his heirs. But in that gristly judgment chamber he spoke with as much ease and interest in his subject as though he had been seated giving audience to his artistic friends at The Hague. But the five familiars who held their clutch on him, and the other five who held the secretary, never for one instant relaxed their muscles, neither did they show by any movement or word that they were conscious that a word had been spoken. They were uncomfortable creatures. At last, however, the Inquisitors themselves entered, one, a young man, black-avised and sturdy, and two elders whose peaked beards were grey and venerable. A monk in russet brown sneaked in at their heels. The Inquisitors seated themselves at the bench before the table. The monk stood apart with hands folded over his crucifix and head bent. His lips mumbled as he repeated his office. The younger man took the centre of the bench, and commenced the Inquisition. He spent little time in beating about the bush. "It is reported to me," he said, "that you two are heretics." "If the definition implies that we are earnest members of the Reformed Church," said Rupert with a courtly bow, "I accept it, _Señor_, both for myself and my companion." "So," said the Inquisitor, "you choose to beard us to our faces? Father," he said to the monk, "offer them your holy symbol. Perhaps the devil speaks only with their voices, and with their lips and hearts they may give another answer." The monk stepped up to the prisoners, holding his crucifix to be kissed, but each in turn shook a determined head. "Neither by word nor sign do I become apostate," said Rupert civilly, and the secretary with an effort made her voice firm and repeated his words. The monk's eyes gleamed, and he stood back to his place. The dark Inquisitor frowned. "You must know where you are, and you must know well what will be the result of this obstinacy?" "Yes," said the Prince calmly, "you will next prove that you are brutes and the sons of brutes by putting us to the torture. We shall accept what we cannot avoid, but we shall not turn our religion. I should think shame of myself, _Señor_, if I accepted a faith which was sullied by the adherence of bloody-minded men like yourself." The dark Inquisitor flushed till his face was almost black. "You shall regret that," he snarled. "I will look on and give directions whilst every muscle of your body is made to quiver with agony." "_Señor_," said the Prince with a bow, "you show that you have every talent developed to the full which could be of use to a coward and a butcher." The dark man leaped to his feet and beat the table a blow with his fist. For the moment he was inarticulate with rage. But the two older men who sat on the bench had respect for the dignity of their office, and they leaned forward, and in whispers did what they could to pacify him. He had a struggle with his passion, and looked as though he could have struck either of them for their interference; the monk also came forward, significantly raising his crucifix, as though to show that they were assembled there for the purposes of their Church alone; and presently with an angry scowl he sank back again on to the bench, and nodded impatient assent to the whispers. But if ever the thirst for a cruel vengeance showed in a man's face it shone from the dark Inquisitor's then. He nodded his head at the prisoners. "Presently," he said, and looked towards the curtain, which defaced one side of the room, with an eye that was ravenous in its hunger. "It would be affectation to misunderstand you, _Señor_," said Rupert in his grand manner. "Presently you will torture me as few men have been tortured before, just to appease your private spite--you that dare not meet me face to face with a sword in your fingers. Your Church should be proud of so doughty a champion, though in God's truth I fear you are forgetting this minute that there is such a thing as a Church." The Inquisitor winced as though he had been struck, and the dark flush died from his face. He let his eyes droop to the table before him, and kept them there sunk in thought. His face worked with the violence of his feelings. The judgment chamber was steeped in an intolerable silence. Twice the older men who sat beside him on the bench brought their grey beards to his ear, and whispered. But impatiently he waved them aside. The monk in the russet gown watched him narrowly as though he could read the tumult of his thoughts, and at last, as though to lead them in the path he would wish, kissed his crucifix and reverently placed it on the table beneath the Inquisitor's twitching face. The man sprung back as though it had stung him, and his face still worked in silence. But at last he spoke. "You are right, father. And you have saved me from a deadly sin. I am not fitted to be an Inquisitor, and after to-day I resign my office. But for now I am still here, and justice remains to be done, and the honour of the holy Church vindicated. Prisoners," he cried, turning to the two before him, "you shall not be put to the question after our usual methods. From your own lips I will judge you and give sentence. Again, I ask, Are you heretics?" Prince Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "_Señor_," he said, "you are somewhat wearisome. I have answered that question once already in the affirmative. We both happen to be gentlemen; if you had been one also, you would have known that our honour would forbid us to make change so suddenly." The dark Inquisitor bit his lip. It was clear that he had quite a mind to flare out afresh. But with a violent effort he controlled himself. The two older men leaned towards him, with evident intention of lending their advice. But impatiently he waved them aside and turned a livid face on the prisoners. "Be it so," he said. "You shall be judged on that confession. The personal insult avails nothing here either in mitigation or addition to your sentences. Your contumacy is proved beyond doubt, and this Holy Office casts you forthwith from its tender care." "So that it rids me of your society, _Señor_," said Rupert, "I care not what others of your devilish compatriots you hand me over to." "You will be transferred from our keeping to the secular arm, and on the afternoon of this very day you will take part in an act of faith already arranged for three other obstinate heretics. You who hold them, remove the prisoners. And," he shrieked, thrusting himself in an ecstasy of passion half across the table, "if they offer to speak, beat in their faces." Two of the familiars stepped back, each with a heavy iron bar uplifted in his hands, and under this persuasion the prisoners kept silence. Then the men in charge turned them round and marched them out of the judgment chamber. Formally they were handed over to armed guards in another part of the building, and these put on over their clothing, gabardines of coarse canvas, named San Benito robes, which were painted grotesquely with flames flickering upwards, and devils in black and red fully equipped with hoof and horn. So the victims were decked ready for the sacrifice. Nor was the sacrifice to be kept long in waiting, and the secretary stoutened her heart and thanked God that this glorious Prince whom she served was great enough to offer himself as a martyr for his faith, and that she would have the privilege alone of all those that had followed him of being with him to the last, and sharing his end. The thoughts of pain and indignity were gone; if her sex were discovered during the burning, at least it would be when it was too late to snatch her from death; and so to the last she would avoid shame from the eyes of this great patron whom she so truly loved. The doors opened, and the troop marched out with the prisoners in charge, three other poor wretches with joints dislocated by torturings also hobbling along by their side. The streets hummed with people. The windows were gay with sight-seers. And presently, when they came to the _plaza_, where five stakes sprouted up each from its pyre of faggots, there were stands built so that no citizen might miss the spectacle of the day. It may be thought that the present historian exaggerates concerning this: but on her honour, these bloody-minded Spaniards look upon an Act of Faith, (as they term the burning of those who refuse the idolatrous Faith of Rome) as we at home in England look upon an innocent bull-baiting or a dog-fight. "Keep a bright face, my Stephen," whispered the Prince as they were marched along. "It would grieve me if these curs had the satisfaction of thinking that they had cowed us." "I could smile," said the secretary, "when I think of the pleasure that mermaiden will feel at having been so clever with her prophecy." "Pooh!" said Rupert, "you and your mermaiden! I'll never believe there was one, and that's my dying conviction. What think you of my diplomacy, Stephen, with that black-avised Inquisitor? If I hadn't maddened that man into losing his temper, we'd have been writhing in their filthy torture-chamber this minute. However, lad, enough of this sullying talk. Let us turn to that genteeler matter that occupied us before."--And with that he spoke once more upon the elaboration of that process of mezzotint engraving in which during politer days he had taken so clever and abiding an interest. In due order the five prisoners were marched out into the _plaza_ and there under the burning midday sunshine were fastened by chains to the stakes which stood out from the piles of faggots. The audience ceased to chatter; the Inquisitors and the other dignitaries of the city came up and took their places on a high draped dais in due order of precedence; and all was ready for the torchmen to set light to the pyres. But at the last moment one of the three other prisoners, ashen-white, screamed out, "I recant! I recant!" and immediately a monk went to him and received his last confession and pronounced absolution. More time was occupied whilst this wretch received the reward of his apostasy, for as is well known, all those of the condemned, that in words embrace the Roman faith before it is yet too late, are privileged to enjoy strangulation before that they are burnt. The which operation of course occupies time. But at last this wretch was announced to be dead, and indeed hung very loosely in his chains in advertisement of his decease, and the supreme moment arrived. The torchbearers advanced with flame that flickered pale and dizzily under the sunlight, and the poor secretary, who intended to devote these last moments to commending her soul to the Most High, could think of nothing but that disastrous mermaiden who had caused all this anguish and disaster. But Prince Rupert was ruffled neither in words nor confession. "Into Thy hands, O Lord God," he said, "I commend my spirit, with a full acknowledgment of my sins, which be many, and a humble reminder that I have at all times endeavoured to do my duty. O Lord receive my spirit into Thine own place, and punish bitterly these Spaniards that are Thine enemies. Amen."--With which prayer his devotions ended, and he returned again to the grave discussion of those improvements in mezzotint. The secretary does not see that a better proof can be given of this glorious man's greatness of mind. What other creature on earth could bring his attention to such talk when so horrid a death immediately threatened him? The torchmen were actually putting their flames against the tar with which part of these pyres is daubed, when the interruption came which saved the prisoners' lives for the time being. A horseman clattered into the _plaza_ on a half-foundered stallion, crying that the _auto da fé_ should stop. The black-avised Inquisitor in a passion leaped to his feet and shouted that what was ordered should be gone through with. But the torchmen, halting between two authorities, plainly dawdled with their work, and the newcomer reined in his staggering horse and threw up an hand for silence. "Hear me," he cried, "and then say if I was wrong in interrupting. A parcel of buccaneers under Wick and Watkin (whose accursed names you well know) are coming against this city directly. They took me prisoner and set me free to come here and deliver to you their impudent will. They ask no ransom, being confident of their own power of taking what they want, but they hear that you have some of their number as prisoners, and through me they give fair warning that if harm comes to them, they on their part will burn every prisoner of the Spaniards that they take, regardless of sex or age. And," concluded the messenger simply, "they will do it. They are men that will stick at nothing, once they have passed their word." A riot of voices filled the plaza. It seemed there were two parties in this city. The Inquisitors were determined not to be robbed of their prey, and these were backed up by the fanatics amongst the populace, and by those reckless, cruel few who did not wish to be baulked of a spectacle. And ranged against these were the women and the more responsible citizens, who feared the buccaneers horribly, distrusted the defences, and dreaded that the threatened burning was very near to their own greasy skins as a retaliation. Weapons were drawn, and it seemed as though there would be civil war. But once more the man on the horse directed the doings of his fellow-citizens. Again he threw up his hands frantically beckoning, and again with some trouble he obtained a hearing. "The captain of the port bid me say," he shouted, "that if he could get his galleys manned, he would go out and tackle these buccaneers forthwith. But at present disease has been busy on the row-bank, and he has few slaves to man the oars. It seems to me, Señores, that you have some recruits yonder chained up against those stakes? Why waste them? And if they are killed by their friends in the ordinary course of action, why the fault lies outside this city, and we get the ordinary treatment of war, whatever betides." Again the riot of words roared through the plaza. But it was clear that the balance of the sides was altered. The proposal of the man on the horse carried weight; the Inquisitors and their fanatics were hopelessly outnumbered and outvoted; and presently the torchmen stamped out the flames, and men came up, and set about unlinking the chains which held the prisoners to the stakes. Oh God! what a revulsion that respite caused to one! The secretary was well-nigh fainting with gratitude when they unchained her. Life, dear life still was left. Only a slavery in the galleys, lay before them to be endured, only the lash, and the baking sun, and the heart-breaking oar for a sentence after all! It seemed in comparison to those fearful flames which had been so near, to be the gift of some delicious dream. But Prince Rupert viewed the change in a different light. He saw only the dreadful indignities to which he was condemned, and his pride gave him more torture than the flames could have offered if he had been scorched and burnt to cinders at that horrid stake. His face blackened with rage and his hands clenched and gripped convulsively. "Almost," he muttered, "I am beginning to give credence to your mermaiden, Master Laughan. The mere fortune of war, unassisted, could scarce have brought me as low as this. The galleys for me! And sent there by Spaniards!" The secretary's heart ached with a new pain as she heard him. "God help the man," thought she, "that's chained to Rupert Palatine!" [Illustration: "THE SECRETARY WAS OCCUPIED IN LEADING HER OWN."] CHAPTER VII THE GALLEY In all history there have been few more lamentable sights than that of the great and glorious Prince Rupert toiling as a common slave on the row-bank of that Spanish galley. It is true that the Spaniards knew nothing of his rank and position, though their doltishness is proved by their not surmising it from his grand manner and his carriage. But the fact remains that they never so much as guessed at his quality, even when the Holy Office condemned him to the flames as a heretic, and it was his firm command to Stephen Laughan, his secretary and companion in misfortune, that the incognito should be strictly preserved. "They take me for an English buccaneer," he said, "and I am content with it. I'd liefer be conscience-free as a slave, than Governor of all the Spanish Colonies on the Main and have to kow-tow to their crafty priests. Moreover, Stephen lad, when I throw back on to the oar-loom, I'm minded that they've left us the use of our limbs, and that's more than might have been. They're clever devils with their torturings, and I'd rather work through life sound as a galley-slave, than sit crippled even in a palace." So it will be seen that even in this terrible adversity--and on all hands it will be admitted that the galleys is one of the worst of fates--the Prince carried a high spirit: indeed the secretary would not be sure that he did not find some entertainment in the adventure. The hurry of going on board had been great. Wick and his buccaneers had appeared off the port in two ships with brooms at their mastheads to show that they had cleared the seas, and empty sacks at their yard-arms to hint that they were bent on plunder. Wick it seems had caught a boat load of Spaniards, and had sent them ashore packed with saucy messages which filled the Captain of the Port with rage and fright in equal portions. If Wick had sailed in when he first came up, he would have found the town of La Vela (which is the port of Coro City) practically undefended. But the Spaniards, after their idolatrous fashion thanked many saints that the buccaneers wasted much time in bombast and cautious reconnoitring, and sent for troops from Coro with which they manned La Vela ramparts and batteries, and which they also set on the four galleys which rolled at their moorings in the harbour. For the motive power of these galleys, slaves of all descriptions were pressed into service and chained to the benches. Not one in six of these wretches had been to sea before, and the odd five were smitten with seasickness before they had barely settled to their work. But the whips of the boatswains who walked up and down the centre gang-plank were a fine restorative to the feebled minded, and, as the event showed, the slaves were quicker to get over their malady than were the soldiers who partook of no such harsh medicine, and who were put on board to form the fighting element. The horrors of that first night at sea are well-nigh unspeakable. Wick's ships had drawn off late in the afternoon, and the galleys, so soon as they were manned, put to sea in inglorious pursuit. As a commencement, the slaves had been chained by ankle-cuffs to traverse-bars which run beneath the seat just in the order in which they chanced to come aboard, and as a consequence, though one oar here and there might be passably handled, the great majority were strained at by wretches who knew no trace of rower's craft, and had little stomach just then to learn it. The Spaniards, according to their brutal fashion, thought to teach skill by the sheer lustiness of their whippings; but these gave little real education, and presently when the galley began to swing to the choppy swells of the Caribbean outside La Vela's protection, the confusion ended in first one, then another, and then others of the sweeps losing a blade, till she bade fair to be completely unrigged if they kept her without change of arrangement. In the midst of this devil's confusion, with the night come down black about their ears and whistling with wind, and the few lanterns showing a very broken and threatening sea, Prince Rupert, with his whimsical mood, must needs set up a rollicking cavalier's song, to which the secretary (with more of loyalty than prudence) lent her more slender tones for a chorus. Three verses rolled out over the charging swells with as full a lilt and gusto as though they had been sung over the wine-cups in merry England, and some half-dozen others of the galley slaves picked up the rhythm. "To hell with the rebels and God save the King!" they sang, and presently the whips of the boatswains began to crack viciously on the backs of the singers. But the chief boatswain stopped when he came to Rupert, and stood with whip uplifted. There was something in the Prince's face at the thought of this last indignity that would have daunted any creature living. "My man," he said, in a terrible voice, "if you touch me with that thong, I will kill you!" "Pah!" said the fellow, "you are chained!" "Happily for many on this galley. But desperate men have desperate strength. I tell you freely that if you thong me I'll break any irons you have in the ship like pack thread, and I'll tear the life from your throat with my teeth. Be not a fool, boatswain. You see me here doing all the work that is put on to this oar. Moreover, as you may see from the swirl of the water, and the buckling of the wood, it is an oar that's being shrewdly driven. I mislike the labour heartily enough, but, being a slave, it's my pride to be a good slave, and it seems to me I've earned promotion already. I should be captain of this oar instead of being set on as the middle slave of the five who man it." "You shall be shifted when the watch is changed," said the boatswain, looking at him curiously. "But I'll give you a double set of irons as an extra present. You are too free with your threats and schemes, my man, for a healthy slave." "I am as I am made," said Rupert. "No man can change his nature too suddenly. But being on this galley, I've her welfare at heart like yourself; as I tell you, even a slave can take pride in his work. And let me say to you, Señor boatswain, you've your rowers wastefully arranged. Your best men are next the rowlocks, or at a cleat in the middle of the loom, ay, or anywhere but where they should be, and that's at the oars' inner ends, next the gangway, where they could put government over the stroke. As a consequence there's no evenness. Your timekeeper with his gavel might be beating stroke for the seafowl for all the regularity he's causing. And so, although each slave may be working his utmost, no two are getting their weight on it together, and as a consequence the slaves are being strained and tired out, and the galley gathers no weigh. I speak as a seaman, _Señor_ boatswain, and I tell you plain that if you don't alter the disposition of your slaves, it's a doubt if we weather the night. You can note for yourself that the breeze is hardening down and the sea's worsening." The boatswain observed that others of the slaves were forgetting their misery in giving ear to Rupert's tirade, and he pulled himself together. "Silence there," he shouted. "Hold your saucy tongue, slave, or you'll be whipped yet." But what had been said went deeply home to him, for he began looking keenly amongst the benches to see which of the slaves put most skill into the dreadful toil, and when the gavel stopped beating, and the oars were pulled in and their ends tucked under the central gangway, so that the blades reared up clear of the waves, he went aft to the coach and held a close conversation with the captain of the soldiers. Presently there was a resorting of posts. A gang of the slaves was told off to the pumps, for the galley shipped more seas than was healthy for her digestion, and these were chained there lest they might cheat the Spaniards of their usefulness by jumping overboard. Then there was more unchaining, as those whom the boatswain had marked for watermanship were unlinked from where they chanced to be, and set each to the inner end of a sweep to govern its strokes. The secretary, to her great surprise (having indeed only a maid's strength to throw into this dreadful labour), was one of those honoured by promotion, and Rupert, who sat on a row bank two behind her across the gangway, gaily cried out his congratulations. It seemed that no circumstances could damp the Prince during this adventure: indeed one might almost say that his gaiety was unnatural. For presently when food was served round--wine of the sourest, sodden bread, and stinking dried fish that they call baccalhao--he not only ate his own portion with gusto, but took up also those of the seasick wretches on the bench beside him, and added these scraps also to his meal. "There's work to be done for you and me, Master Laughan," he cried cheerily, "and we need victual within our ribs to keep us lusty. Show me none of your daintiness here, Stephen. Eat soundly, keep up a good courage and a sturdy arm, and I promise you shall dine off sweeter victual when the time comes as your reward." The boatswain, who was still busy making the exchanges, heard his speech, and understood it, although the words were English. "Now you talker," said he threateningly, "have a care, or you'll earn something more besides those double irons I've given you already." "Why, _Señor_," said Rupert, "I was but anticipating your kindness and your gratitude. There are slaves and slaves. Surely if we show ourselves to be your best and most valuable slaves, you will give us some small concessions and rewards in return when it comes to the dieting?" "Your tongue is too long," said the boatswain sourly, "and besides, I don't believe that is what you meant, you Englishman." "Well," said Rupert, "you might call me worse names that don't belong to me than Englishman." The boatswain scowled and turned away to his work, and the slaves tried to get what rest they could where they sat. The deck beneath their feet was covered with unspeakable filth, and even if they had the inclination to lie down upon it, there was no opportunity. Each slave was chained by the ankles to the traverse-bar (or "horse," as it was named) which ran beneath the bench in front, and chained also by wrist-shackles to the cleats on the oar loom. But with the oar-blade a-cock, and the loom drawn in and its end tucked under the gangway, one could snatch rest sitting, with the weary head pillowed on the arms and the oar loom. But there was a short enough spell of sleep allowed them. The galley fell off into the trough when she had no weigh on her, and with the roll the Spanish soldiers' stomachs reeled within them. So once more the timekeeper sat down to his table and began monotonously to beat with the gavel, and once more the oars were dipped and swung. The rowers might go on till they burst their souls, so that these doughty warriors were eased. But this time there was a better performance. The captain of each oar--those, that is, who sat at the inner ends--were men of experience, slaves many of them of long standing in the galleys, or men brought up to sea-faring. "Mine's the hardest driving oar in the ship," cried Rupert with strange exultation. "And mine's not the worst," the secretary cried back to him, falling in with her patron's mood. Two others voices chimed in, both English. "Silly braggarts, do you think you're doing all the work in the galley?" cried one. "Foils," grumbled another. "Why tew more than ye need? There's note t'addle by it." "_Arnidieu_," swore Rupert, "I should know you who spoke then." "'Appen," said the man, who was at the oar nearest the poop, "I've met a sight o' folk i' my time." "But you should remember one whom you chose to be your matelot, your camerade on the seas, who was to go a-buccaneering afloat whilst you bucanned meat in Hispaniola. Your voice, sir, tells me that you are Master Simpson." "Aye, I'm Simpson. And so you're----" "Hush, sir, please. It is my vanity, sir, to keep my name hid whilst I am in this position. But it grieves me to see you in similar plight." But here speech was cut off. Once more the boatswain came down on to the gang-plank, boiling with anger at all this talk in defiance of discipline, and cutting right and left with his whip on the shoulders of the slaves. Simpson came in for a share, and cursed him lustily for the gift, but the Prince he affected not to have caught. Truly it would have taken a braver man than a galley's boatswain to flog Rupert Palatine. Nothing but constant thonging with that whip kept most of the slaves at their work. The galley laboured heavily in the sea, rolling her outrigged thole-pins under at every lurch, and sea-sickness groaned from all her benches. The reek of her poisoned the gale. The groans from her might have alarmed heaven. And if a ship of the buccaneers had appeared then, her military manning would have surrendered through sheer misery. But as it was she rode out the night unmolested, and when morning broke, wild and grey, there were Wick's ships tossing on a far horizon. Now beating has its limits, and even the arm of a Spanish boatswain may grow weary after a long night of unbroken flogging. Moreover the other galleys had both dropped astern, and lay without weigh with their oars a-cock. So once more the timekeeper gave the three sharp blows with the gavel which meant a halt, and the slaves thankfully drew in the oars, and thrust the looms underneath the gangway. A ration was served out, but for the most part they were too bone-weary to eat, and dropped incontinently off into slumber. The Prince, however, mastered his meal as before, and the secretary, mindful of his order, made shift to do the same, though indeed her hands were so raw with the rub of the oar, that each morsel was seasoned with her own blood. For three hours the rest endured, and the sun got up and beat heavily on all the galley held, and then once more the timekeeper beat with his gavel. The other galleys came up and formed into line, sawing over the swells. The whole fleet set off together. They were going out to the attack. A galley's bulwarks are high, and a slave can see nothing except for swift glances that flash past through the oar ports; but a slave's ears are correspondingly sharpened, and from orders shouted by the officers, and from chance scraps of talk, those on the row-benches gain some general idea of what is going on. By degrees they rose the hulls of Wick's ships into view, and found that they were hove-to under canvas. They still carried brooms at their mastheads, and the insulting sacks at their yard arms, and further, as if to show their vast contempt for the force which had come out against them, their crews were at the wash-tub, and the rigging was ensigned with strings of fluttering garments hung out to dry. The Spanish officers gritted their teeth with rage at the impertinence, and the boatswain was bidden to whip up more speed out of the slaves. But it seemed that these buccaneers could do other things besides wash their underwear. For presently when we got within range, down went the strings of fluttering garments, and to each man's hand came up his long-barrelled buccaneering piece, with which he fired with diligence and precision. There was no volley firing and there were no wasted bullets. Each buccaneer picked his mark, loosed off, and reloaded. They did not man their own big artillery, but they gave their entire attention to the crews of swaying seasick soldiers that tried to fight the galleys' heavy guns, and they trundled them over almost as fast as they could be replaced. And meanwhile they got their own ships under weigh, trimming sail so that they preserved an unaltered distance from the galleys. They did not attack, and when the Spaniards at all slackened the engagement, a part of them put down their buccaneering pieces and went back to the washtubs. It was a most exasperating battle, and the officers on the Prince's galley were almost beside themselves with mortification. The buccaneers shot with a fine accuracy, as has been said, but at sea there are always bullets that go astray, and of these the wretched slaves that were chained to the row banks came in for their share. Some were ricochet shots: some found entrance by the oar ports; but when one is wounded, it is but small consolation to know that the hurt was intended for another. A bullet struck between the two hands of Prince Rupert himself, splintering the wood of the oar. A slave that sat next to the secretary was shot through the temple, falling forward over their loom, and the rowing was much impeded before the poor wretch could be unchained, and his body thrown over to the sharks. Altogether there were twelve of the slaves killed or disabled, but it was some comfort to them to know that no less than thirty of their masters were put outside the combat. The Spaniards raged at this treatment, but they could not alter it, neither could they come to close quarters with the ships of the buccaneers, and in the end the galleys were allowed once more to drift, and the slaves to rest and regain strength for whatever next might be demanded of them. Twice again during that day did they try to force close action, but the only result was loss to themselves, and in the end when night once more swept down upon the sea, the Spaniards on the galley, what between sea nausea, tiredness, and despondency, lay in a state that did little credit to their manhood. Now it is ill work making slaves from men of the calibre of Prince Rupert, because they weigh at its exact value all that's going on, and, resenting their chains very bitterly, are sure to take the first chance of being rid of them. Rupert summed up the situation of the soldiers with much nicety. He summed up also the feelings of the galley's mariners. It is the custom in the Spanish sea service to keep the two businesses of sailing the ship and fighting her coldly apart. The soldier esteems himself far too great a person to touch anything more ungenteel than his weapons. The mariner is looked upon as an inferior creature, fit only to handle ropes, and the tarry things of shipboard, a proper subject to be oppressed at all times, and beaten when he does not please. On our galley there were but few mariners, for she did little work with her sails; but what there were got treatment but slenderly better than that dealt out to the slaves; and though this was the custom of their service, and they had nothing better to look forward to, the Prince with his shrewd wisdom gave full value to the matter, and when night once more wrapped the galley in gloom, he put a plan that he had formed into brisk action. One of these sailormen who had undergone more ill-usage than the rest, and had been anointed with more than his share of blows, was passing dejectedly along the gangway, and presently lay down where he was to sleep. There was nothing uncommon about this, for the Spaniards deny their mariners the right to go below into the cabins, and force them to harbour under the weather on the open deck, having an idea that this treatment improves their wakefulness. To this poor fellow, then, who already had rebellion simmering in his heart, Rupert spoke in a whisper, and his clever words soon sapped the wretch's loyalty. "Why should he toil like a slave that was a free man himself, and no one whit worse than his masters? Why should he put up with blows that were not earned? Why should he be satisfied with a dog's wage and a hog's treatment, when he might make a fortune for a move, and live soft ever after?" The Prince was persuasive enough, and the fellow was openly willing. "Show me a chance," said he, "and you don't find me staying as I am much longer." "Then the thing is simple," said Rupert, "and the less time it's put off the better. The key to your fortune is the key of our shackles. You get me that, and I will guarantee execution of the rest." "I have only your word for it." "I can offer you a better certificate. Regard my position and my need." "Ay," said the sailor, "there's no questioning that. But is there to be a general killing on this galley, once you slaves get loose? My own mates are men I like, and it would grieve me to see them hurt. They have suffered from the soldiers equally with me." "There shall be as few killed as I can help. I need all alive for my purposes. And as for your mates, _amigo_, if they will only bear a hand to help us, the thing will be done more simply. But help or stand aside non-interferent, I swear to you that no sailor on this galley shall be hurt unless he sides in with the soldiers." "They'll not do that last. But I could not say they'll join with you till they see you've strong chance of getting the upper hand." "I ask no better. Let them wait till the game is well started, and then join in with the winning side. So hand me the keys." "Nay," said the sailor, "you will have to get those for yourself also; but I'll go so far as to tell you where they are, and that's in the boatswain's pocket. I'll give you this help, though," said he, and moved across to the other side of the gangway, and coiled up in sleep there. For the moment Rupert thought the man had been mocking him; but then he saw that the gangway was narrow, that the boatswain traversed it every hour on his official watch, and that the sleeping sailor at the further side would cause him to walk near the other edge, and so within hand-grips of the slaves who wanted the keys. So the Prince sat on his bench well satisfied, and the men near him, who had heard what had been said, waited in silence to get their share of any benefits which might befall. There is no reason to ask the slaves on a galley if they will join an insurrection. That the chance for such a rising may come, let its risks be what they may, is the one hourly prayer of their terrible lives. The time lingered on with a slowness that was incredible. The slaves in the secret rustled on their uneasy benches and winced as the chains galled them. But still the boatswain came not. It seemed as though the hour for his promenade was twice passed over. Rupert muttered a jest, that if he came not soon, we should be forced to report him to his superiors for dereliction of duty. But presently through the gloom these desperate men saw one step from the coach on to the gangway and step towards them. Their muscles grew hardened for the spring, their nerves strung for fierce fighting. And then, lo! here was a deputy sent to do the formal round, whilst the boatswain himself lay sleeping. So there was the tedious vigil to be endured a second time. But galley slaves can be patient over a disappointment like this, so that there is shrewd prospect of their vengeance coming if only it is waited for long enough. And in due time the boatswain himself came out of the coach, yawning and stretching, and making his way leisurely along the centre of the gangplank. It was plain that his eyes were heavy with drowsiness, and he saw little. Indeed he was within an ace of the sailor who lay on the gangway sleeping (or pretending to sleep), and only swerved just in time to prevent stumbling over him. He stepped to the edge of the gangway, cursing softly, and the chain on Rupert's wrist that fettered it to the oar gave just sufficient play for the man's undoing. The Prince grasped his ankle and plucked it smartly from beneath him. The boatswain fell down headlong among the slaves--the slaves whom his whip had so cruelly tortured--and under their vicious handling his natural cries were stifled before they were born. The keys were ripped from his pouch, and passed down the row of benches, and callous, blistered fingers trembled as they fitted them into the locks of the shackles. The sweat of anxiety poured from the slaves during those minutes as they fumbled. A voice rang out through the rustling night that called for the boatswain. There was no reply. Again the voice called, and this time it was answered by a laugh. Prince Rupert, once more a free man, stepped up on to the gangway. The secretary followed him. They made their way aft to the coach where the officers of the soldiers lived, and other shadowy figures, first by ones and twos, then in mobs, began to move on at their heels. There were no cries, there was no shouting; but the very silence of these ill-used slaves made their onset all the more dreadful. The officers and the soldiers welled out like angry bees from an upturned hive to meet them. Both Rupert and the secretary were happy enough to filch swords from soldiers that were barely awake, and with hands once more gripped on their accustomed tools, were able to make pretty play. But the great mob of slaves that came on at their heels found no such genteel weapons; contented themselves with stanchions, belaying-pins, balustrading, or anything which offered itself to the first sight; or else raged horribly with bare teeth and talons, as though they had been wild beasts unaccustomed to more human warfare. There was no display of fencing skill. Their one manoeuvre was to rush in to hand-grips and commence a deadly wrestle. There was no doubt about the slaves' ferocity. Numbers of them were killed, but even in their death-writhings they generally managed to pull their man down overboard with them. Their numbers and their rush were unconquerable. And, besides, the Spaniards were still nauseated with the defeat of the afternoon and with seasickness. As more of the slaves got loose from their shackles the battle degenerated into mere slaughter. The wretches were men no longer; they were wild beasts mad with the lust for blood. They had forgotten the meaning of the word "quarter"; and when here and there one of the soldiers threw down his arms, crying that he surrendered, they simply ran in and finished him, with laughter at his foolishness. But it was no part of Rupert's plan to let capture and punishment degenerate into massacre. That there were men on the galleys who had been buccaneers before being taken as prisoners by the Spaniards, has been mentioned already. And it appears there were others. It was the pockmarked Yorkshireman, Simpson, who told of them. This man Simpson came up to Rupert when he and the secretary were defending against some of the maddened slaves a handful of soldiers who had surrendered. "What d'ye bother yer head about yon carrion for, young feller?" said Simpson. "They're nobbut Jack-Spaniards, and they're far better ower t' side an' into t' watter." "Why," said Rupert, "I was thinking of them as substitutes for ourselves on the row bank. Someone must man the oars, one supposes, and I've no special ambition to go back to the work again myself." "Nor me. I've been making t' beggars pay pretty dear this last few minutes for the wark they've had out o' me on this galley. But tha'rt right, young feller, there must be no more killing. It's a fooil's trick cutting off yer nose to spite yer face." "Help Master Laughan and me to hold off these savages then." "Right," said Simpson, and began in his great bull's voice to call out names. "Jobson! Hugh! Drapeau! Makepeace! Lebreton!" he shouted for, and then named others, and presently these men worked their way up through the rabble of the Spanish slaves. With the Prince and the secretary they made a line across the poop, beginning at the rudder head, and then with word and blows with the flat drove the maddened Spanish slaves forward away from their killing, and passed all living unarmed soldiers they met with behind them. Presently these slaves began sullenly to listen to reason, and though they were far from seeing the justice by which a small knot of men, who shortly before had been slaves equally with themselves should set up a command, they understood that these few who drove them had once been buccaneers, and so they resigned themselves to their superiority. So quickly order was restored; the dead were put over the side, the soldier-prisoners were clapped into the vacant chains and bidden acquire the mystery of oarsmanship; and the sailors of the galley who had stayed non-interferent and unmolested, returned to their accustomed duties without being especially bidden. They were rather poor-spirited creatures, these same Spanish sailormen. It remained to elect a captain and a course, and this was done with small argument. The Yorkshireman Simpson took upon himself to make nomination. "Bretheren," he said, "and scum, just listen here, all o' you. This 'ere young feller, that's planned this rising is a Prince, an' 'e's my matelot. I therefore propose 'im as Captain. If there's any beggar as 'as any objections, let 'im just step here an' I'll cut 'is throat.--No one's onything to say to that? Well, young feller, tha'rt elected Captain, pleasant an' unanimous, an' we all serve under you according to the rules of the Bretheren of the Coast." "Gentlemen," said Rupert, "I thank you for the honour, and will endeavour to deserve it. I believe, according to the Rules, my first duty is to call a council of all hands, and I do that herewith. But before there is time used up in speech-making, I should like to point out that we may be called upon for further action presently. There has been noise enough made on this galley to scare heaven, and I do not see very well how her consorts can have avoided taking the alarm. Presently one supposes they'll come up to see what the uproar's about, and we should be able to give them their answer in due form." "Let them come," said Simpson, "we'll give them all the fighting they've any stomachs for." "But to what profit, Master Simpson? We shall simply kill a parcel of soldiers whose trade it is to be killed, and the Spaniards ashore will only shrug their shoulders, and say the poor fellows have merely received what they were hired for. Now my grievance is more against those said Spaniards ashore, and moreover, I am remembering always that I came out to these seas to gather revenues for my master the King, who now keeps his court at The Hague." "Kings is note to me," said Simpson with a frown, "an' I'll bet they're no more to onybody on this galley, unless they're a fancy of Master Laughan's." Rupert laughed. "Well," he said, "we're far from England now, and I won't pick a quarrel with you over your disloyalty, Master Simpson. To begin with, we've other matters on hand. And to go on with, I've an opinion that we agree shrewdly over the other point of my argument. You'll have as little distaste for plunder as anyone, eh?" Simpson smacked the Prince's shoulder. "Tha'st hit it theer i' once, young feller." "Your approval overwhelms me. Now here's my plan. We'll give these other galleys the slip, and be off back to La Vela as fast as the oars can drive us. They'll know this galley there as their own, and will let her into the harbour unquestioned----" "By gum," shouted Simpson, "I see t' plan. Let's away wi' us, an' we'll talk it through as we go. We shall loss a fight wi' these 'ere other galleys, but we shall have all we want in La Vela harbour before we've got our pickings there an' are off again. That carrack against the mole has the plate in her of half a season's gathering." It took little formality to get the galley once more into motion. The whips of the late boatswain and his mates were picked up by ready hands, and any stubbornness which at first the new slaves chose to show was soon flogged out of them. There were not enough soldiers remaining alive after the vessel was taken to full man the oars, and perforce some of those who sat on the benches before had to return to them. But these freedmen pulled at oars apart, and soon there sprang up a rivalry between them and the boatswain who drove the new-made slaves--the which was bad for the slaves. Quickly the galley got into her stride again, swerving in a wide circle under the helm, and then heading back for the Main. The Spaniards had not lit her great poop lanterns that night for fear lest Wick should play some buccaneers' surprise game under cover of the dark; and unlit they remained after she was captured; and if the other consorting galleys came to hunt for her, they never arrived, and there's an end to them. One other talk Captain Prince Rupert had with his crew before they came up with their new work. "I tell you plain, gentlemen," he said, "that I am out in these seas of the New World to make what monies I can add to my King's revenues, but at the same time one's own private honour must be attended to first. Now I want an agreement from all hands as to where the profits of this venture belong. For myself and Master Laughan here, we were of the company of Captain Wick and Captain Watkin, and were put ashore (so it was said) to forward their plans for sacking the City of Coro. It is a marvel, for which I thank God heartily, that we stand here alive and free to-day, and as those two buccaneer commanders must have known to what horrible fates and dangers they sent us, I take it they wrote us off their strength as dead the moment we left the ship. So I hereby dissociate Master Laughan and myself from their venture, and proclaim ourselves, so far as they are concerned, to be gentlemen at large. Remains for myself a contract I once made in Hispaniola with Master Simpson." "Nay, young feller," said Simpson, "that's off by my own unavoidable act. We agreed that you were to be my matelot at sea, sharing equally all you addled, and I was to be your camerade ashore, with a business of hunting the wild cattle of Hispaniola and bucaning the meat, selling it in Tortuga, and sharing with you the gains. But I must needs be gowk enough to get caught by the Spaniards, and so, as I say, the bargain's off. So we're all here on our own bottoms, and all that's needed is to settle the share list." The debate about this was simple. Rupert, as Captain, was to have fourteen shares. Simpson was appointed Quartermaster with eight shares, Drapeau, a Frenchman, was made gunner with four shares. The other French and English buccaneers, including the secretary (who to her mortification was offered no official position) were apportioned two shares apiece, and the Spaniards, who had been their fellow-slaves, were each given one share. These last were for making some disagreement; but it was soon pointed out to them that the French and English as a rule gave Spaniards nothing, and that if there was much fuss about the matter, they would adhere to their usual habit. The which suggestion calmed these greedy gentlemen down wonderfully, and so all within the galley was peace and concord. Day came, and the galley found herself alone on a desolate sea. The coast of the Main was visible from the deck, the buildings of La Vela could be seen from the mastheads; and so the oars were cocked and the day was set apart for a rest which all most sorely needed. "There's a bit of the Puritan about thee, young feller," said the Yorkshireman to the Prince, and Rupert laughed and said that Master Simpson was the first to guess it. "But I know what you mean," he added. "I'm suggesting sleep and not debauch, and although you can barely keep your eyes open, you're resenting the innovation. But let me call to your notice that this is a dry ship. I've had her searched for liquor and there's barely a cask, and that's only of sour, thin wine; and so we've to be sober for the strongest of all possible reasons." At that the buccaneers laughed and gave in, and after a watch had been set, all in the galley addressed themselves to sleep. They lay about, some below, some on deck, some in the shade, some in the sunshine, and the slaves of course rested on the oars to which they were chained; and sounder sleep this side of death it would have been impossible to find. Indeed, one may say that all on the galley were thoroughly worn out with what they had gone through, and that much more wakefulness would have had the dreadful effect that want of sleep produces, and sent many of them into insanity. But night came at last, dropping on the sea with its accustomed tropical suddenness, and with night the galley woke. The timekeeper gave a preliminary beat with his gavel, and the oar-blades splashed down into the sea; he gave two more beats in warning, and then set off, marking a steady stroke, and the oars followed him with all the accuracy of which they were able; and presently the galley was in full course, heading back for La Vela. On the poop stood Prince Rupert explaining patiently in English, and again in French, and still again in the Spanish tongue, every small detail of what was to be done in the harbour, and apportioning to each his especial work. Wick's ships were demonstrating opposite this port to lure down the greatest possible number of troops away from the defence of Coro, so that the capital might be as feeble as possible against Watkin's attack. Rupert's was to be a sally in against desperate odds, and nothing but the most perfect method and order could bring it success. The very noisiness of the galley's approach was its most efficient disguise. The timekeeper beat stolidly with his gavel, and after the manner of the Spaniards a drum and a trumpet made music on the head of the forecastle, doubtless causing many ashore to turn in their sleep and curse at being disturbed by so barbaric a formality. If the galley had tried to sneak in between the harbour walls with oars muffled and all within her quiet, she would have been spied by the sentries, and they would have filled the place with suspicions and alarms. But from her arrogant noisiness none dreamed that she had changed owners, and the sentries patrolled their beats without giving her more than a glance. One of the new-made slaves did indeed more with bravery than prudence try to shout a warning when they came within earshot of the forts, but the galley's sailors were watching narrowly for an outbreak such as this, and scarcely had the fellow opened his mouth to shout, than a slash with a dagger silenced him for always: which example effectually schooled the others. Those sailors of the galley were not brave men, but they were very frightened, and that made them very efficient guardians for the slaves. The galley's berth in La Vela harbour was alongside the arsenal, but orderliness in these Spanish ports is a thing little thought of, and when this particular vessel steered towards the fort which commanded it from the opposite side, she received no special attention. A low wharf gave her landing place, the oars sweeping above the pavements; and the moment her side rasped against the stone, she vomited forth her people in a sudden rush. A great carrack lay beside the next wharf. Then and not before was the alarm made. A sentry squibbed off his arquebuse, the ball flying wide. A drum beat, followed by a rumble of other drums. Lights kindled in the windows and embrasures. The clatter and shuffle of men arming themselves hummed up into the night. But in three bodies the invaders had gone off under Rupert, and Simpson, and the secretary, at their fastest run, and the galley, in charge of the French gunner, put off again in obedience to her orders. The three shore parties had a simple duty. Each in its ranks had a parcel of men armed only with spike-nails and extemporised hammers, and it was the duty of the others to burst into the forts and shelter these men whilst they spiked the guns. Every moment the town and the garrison were waking round them: every moment that the work was incomplete it grew harder of execution. There was to be no lingering once the guns were spiked; there was to be no staying to fight where it could be avoided. "Keep the lives of your men if you can," Rupert had said as a last command, "or you will lose me half my profit and half my revenge." For a rendezvous, all were to make for the carrack. Shouts and screams and oaths told when each party stormed the fort which it was bidden put out of action. There was some fire from small arms, but not much; most of that night's work was done with cold steel and the hammer. Of the progress and fortune of the other two parties, the secretary could see little; she was sufficiently occupied in leading her own. The men who were chosen to be under her had grumbled at first at having such a stripling set over them, and the poor creature had to look her fiercest at them for fear lest they should openly mutiny and appoint another leader on their own responsibility. But once they had clambered inside the fort apportioned to them, she summed up a courage brazen enough to suit the most reckless of them. The hammer men, being unarmed otherwise, were nervous and clumsy, and seemed a most tedious time over their employment. The garrison poured out against them like bees from an upturned hive. And when eight of the twelve guns were spiked, a cry rose that it was time to be going, if any were to escape back to the carrack with their skins. But Master Laughan with tongue and sword stopped the panic (and indeed fought very valiantly for example), and a space was cleared round the remaining guns till the hammer men had stripped the tarpaulins from their breeches, and put them out of action. And then when indeed the work was over, and word was passed to make evacuation with all speed available, the secretary was the last to leap on the parapet and drop down over the wall. Missiles and some shot flew after them, but they had no means for reply and indeed had been strictly ordered by the Prince to use their heels; and so dragging along their wounded, and leaving their dead, they raced on in a body through bye-streets and lanes, but always keeping in touch with the harbour-edge. Around them the town was ablaze with lights and fury, but in the hurry of their passage no man knew them exactly for what they were, and by the time any had guessed, they were out of shot and shout. It is useless to cry, "The Buccaneers are on us! The Buccaneers!" when all the town is thrilling with the same alarm. But one deed the secretary did in La Vela which was outside Rupert's instructions, and indeed opposed to his strict command. There came down upon her band from one of the side streets a black-avised man mounted on horseback. She recognised him at once. He was the chief Inquisitor for Coro of that truly horrid institution of Rome miscalled the Holy Office, and with his own vile lips he had sentenced both Rupert and the secretary to what they call an _auto da fé_, but which in vulgar terms is nothing more nor less than a burning to death at the stake. Only the pressing need of the galleys for rowing-slaves gave them salvage from this, and for that they had to thank Captain Wick's activity, and not the Inquisitor's will. In fact they were beholden to him for so little, that Master Laughan forthwith broke orders, bade her men surround the fellow, and drag him from his horse. The reins of his own bridle served to bind his hands, and when in his black rage he would have halted to argue, shrewd sword progues quickly made him keep station. "Here is a nobleman for ransom," the secretary said to her buccaneers, and they swore they would be cut to pieces sooner than let him escape them. With furious pantings they drove their way on through the streets, and at last came to that broad avenue, littered with barrels, cases, bales and other merchandise which heads round the inner bight of the harbour, and there they saw the stately carrack which had been ordered as their rendezvous. Already she was the centre of a pretty fight. The Prince's men and Simpson's had boarded her some minutes before, and her own people were resisting with fury and desperation. But at the run Master Laughan's came up, clambered over the great precipice of the stem, and so came upon the poop, which was the last hold of the Spaniards. Her people thus found themselves between two sets of swords and had no further stomach for fighting. Some jumped down on to the quay on one side, some were forced over into the water on the other, and there was the great carrack in alien hands, and buccaneers with axes were cutting through her shore-fasts. But Master Laughan had one piece of merchandise to haul on board yet, and that was the black-avised man whom she gave orders to carry below, and set two of the freed slaves to guard. The galley, according to orders, backed up, passed a warp on board over her stern, and began to tow towards the harbour entrance, and all those who had any ship-knowledge on the carrack laid aloft to loose her canvas. From the dumb batteries the garrisons raged as they wrestled with their spiked artillery. And in the meanwhile a smattering harmless fire from arquebuses filled the night with flashings. Gradually as her courses were let drop and her topsails hoisted, the carrack gathered way, and presently she passed out between the harbour heads. Clouds slid away, and showed a moon sailing in the heavens. The noises died out in the town, and one could guess that its people were watching the two vessels which sailed out over the lighted sea. The carrack trimmed deep in the water, and already expert valuers had been in the holds and reported her cargo of fabulous value. "Young feller," said Simpson, "or rather I should say Captain, it's my belief we've run off with their annual plateship. Tha'st set us up for life." "I had two motives in visiting the place," said Rupert, "profit and revenge. You say we've done well with the first, and that is pleasant hearing. But I should have liked to see my way to making the second more marked. I've suffered some vile indignities in this neighbourhood." "Your Highness," put in the secretary, "I've flatly disobeyed your orders during this last half-hour." Rupert looked at Master Laughan queerly. "Then I'll lay to it you've got some good excuse." "Why, yes, your Highness, my excuse is in one of the after cabins under a steady guard." "Fetch it up under the moonlight here." The black-avised Inquisitor was brought on deck. "You!" said Rupert, and set his lips tight. "The tables appear to be turned," said the fellow boldly. "I suppose you will use your power now and torture me." "That is not my way," said Rupert. "But I am apt to return kind for kind, and I have in memory that you condemned me to the flames, and that it was not your fault I did not suffer in them." "I regretted then and regret still you were not burnt. I took you for a heretic, and it seems you are a pirate also." "It seems to me that I am Rupert Palatine, and acting very naturally. My man, next time you gather victims for your bloody Inquisition, see that you do not fly at too high game. If you were a gentleman, I would set you free with a ransom. But I see you are a common fellow, and need a ruder lesson. Put down your helm," he ordered to the steersman, and to the sail-trimmers he said, "Lay her to." And then he gave further commands which pleased all hands mightily. The galley was brought alongside and set thoroughly on fire, and the black-avised Inquisitor was put down on to her decks with his wrists once more set free. The warps were cast off and the carrack once more got under weigh. Rupert hailed the Inquisitor from the poop. "You will find the keys of the slaves' shackles on their proper nail inside the coach, and you may set your rowers adrift as soon as you please. Then I would counsel you to make for the harbour, which you can do with ease before the fire scorches you very deeply. But remember from this night's work that fire burns, that men who have had you in their power could still set you free again unharmed, and be generous to the next poor wretches that come within the grip of your Inquisition." The black-avised man took off his hat and bowed. "I shall pray nightly to heaven, Señor, that I may meet you once again," said he, and then turned to get the keys of the rowers' shackles. "I'd like to bet tha' that tha'st trouble with yon dark chap yet," said Simpson thoughtfully. "It's allus best to scrag these Jack-Spaniards whilst there's t' chance." "My dear Master Simpson, one must always remember that there's such a thing as chivalry left even in these seas of the New World." "I know note about chivalry, young feller, but I'm thinking that 'appen we've some of yon beggar's brass in this vessil we're running off with, an' that's what makes 'im mad. I tell tha', Captain, it's brass i' the end that makes all the wars and the fighting in this New World, just the same as it is i' t' Old. There's men gives it other names; some says they fights for religion, and some for drink; but reckon it out right to t' bottom, and tha'll find it's t' brass an' note else." "You're a philosopher, it seems, amongst your other attractions," said Rupert, smiling. "But at present we must give these nicer matters holiday. Here we are, with a fat ship, and the business of carrying her away in safety; and I want very much to do that without giving toll to either Captain Wick or Captain Watkin. Let them go in and sack Coro, as arranged; these Spanish towns are the proper banks for the buccaneers to draw upon. There's plenty of pickings left for them. But for myself, I'm mightily anxious to carry away without further debate what I've so honestly and hardly earned." They watched the galley furiously rowed towards the harbour with red flags of flames trailing from her stern; they saw the black dots which represented her people scramble over the side; and presently they laughed as they saw flames sprout from other shipping in the harbour which blazing matter from the galley had set alight. And they felt a very pleasant glow of satisfaction as they watched. From then onwards, until two days were passed, all the brain in the carrack was employed till she was clear of possible danger, and not until then did Rupert formally thank the secretary for capturing the black-avised Inquisitor. "If I had not settled my score with that man," said Rupert, "I could not have slept easy. But as it is, I think the adventure has very satisfactorily ended. My lad, when the time comes, I will commend you very highly to his Majesty the King at The Hague." CHAPTER VIII THE REGAINING OF THE FLEET Now during all these weary adventurous weeks in which he had been wandering about the Caribbean, more like a humble knight-errant of old than a modern prince of birth, Rupert had never forgotten that he had pawned the King's fleet to that detestable person, Monsieur D'Ogeron, the Governor of Tortuga. On what employ it had been used, no rumour had reached him. But the period for which it had been pawned was near to run out, and Rupert was anxious to resume command on the first day it was due to be surrendered to him. The voyage back from Coro in the newly captured carrack could not be direct for many reasons. In the first place there was plunder from his other ventures to be collected, and this, after the buccaneer fashion, Rupert had buried in spots known to himself alone, and in the second place, in the hurry of cutting out the carrack from La Vela harbour, no one had troubled to notice that she was not victualled. They had been keen enough to note the treasure and the rich merchandise which trimmed her so desirably low in the water, but it was not found that she lacked the necessary vulgar details of grain and dried meat, of wood and water, till she was well at sea, and these were not to be had for the mere asking. Consequently the crew were well-nigh starving before it was found possible to put into a river which supplied fish for an immediate meal, and offered savannahs on which the hunters shot deer meat to take them further. [Illustration: THERE IS NO MISTAKING THE MANNER OF BUCCANEERS RETURNING WELL-LADEN] But even this supply did not provision them for long, and they were forced to run across to Hispaniola, come into touch with the French and English hunters there, and buy from them bucaned cows' flesh in the usual way. There is a routine about these matters, and when it is departed from one soon finds that the routine has its reason for being. It will be seen that here were all the makings of a voyage which would be prosperous, if somewhat slow; but it must be owned that all was not peace and easiness. The Spaniards on board were the root of the unpleasantness. They held that they had worked equally with the others in gathering the plunder. The French and English held that they were duly-admitted members of the Brotherhood of the Coast, and therefore of superior clay to any Spaniard; and, moreover, when it came to the distribution of the plunder, they attended armed to the teeth and certainly took the lion's share. They said at the time that the Spaniards might feel grateful that they were given so much as a flavour; and on that day, being overawed by weapons, these Spaniards accepted what was left for them with at least an outward show of civility. But it seems they still carried rage and discontent in their hearts, which indeed is the custom of their disgusting nation, and from then onwards were forever making a great plot or cabal. In number these Spaniards might well be vainglorious, seeing that there were one hundred and forty of them, to some twenty-seven all told of the buccaneers, and in fierceness they were above the ordinary. They were criminals all of them, condemned to the galleys by their own countrymen, who found them intolerable at home, and had it not been that their liberation was useful at the time to Prince Rupert, one is free to confess that the galleys was their proper place, as they were unfitted for any other rank in society. However, there they were on the carrack, possessors of some considerable store of plunder, and very wishful to seize more and to have a say in their final destination. Once indeed a deputation came aft to put forward their views. What was to be the carrack's destination? "Tortuga," said Rupert, civilly. They appeared to hear the name with consternation. "But, _Señor_," said their spokesman, "that is the metropolis of the buccaneers." "To me," said Rupert, "Tortuga is my rendezvous with my own fleet." "We bow to your esteemed convenience, _Señor_. But what chance shall we have there? We shall be lambs in a wolf-fold. They will rob us certainly; if we escape out of the place with our lives, we shall be fortunate. Surely, _Señor_, as we have borne much of the burden of the fighting, we are entitled to some say in future schemes." "As duly elected Captain, all decision in these matters appears to rest with me. But I do not wish to make my command unpalatable, and if what is arranged, and what indeed suits the French and English of this crew very pleasantly, goes against your sentiments, I am willing to come to a composition with you. Once in Tortuga, I personally and Master Laughan here rejoin my fleet; Master Simpson and the buccaneers go ashore, according to their convivial custom, for a merry time amongst the wine-shops and the ladies of Tortuga, and possibly for a turn at the dice box with Monsieur D'Ogeron up at the castle; and the carrack will remain for sale. I believe prices for ships rule easy in Tortuga, as there is somewhat of a glut of them on the market, and the titles to them are obscure. Here, then, is your chance: you are men of capital; hand back into the store the plunder that has been shared out to you, and the carrack is yours after she had carried us for our voyage." At this proposition, the Spaniards appeared to get very angry, and indeed were for making some foolish demonstration if they had not been incontinently driven away forward. But the buccaneers, who have a more nice appreciation for wit, laughed heartily, and swore that Rupert was a prince of good fellows. But at the same time they did not take the Spaniards too much on trust, and in fact wore their weapons and their wakefulness with great diligence. Had there been liquor on board it is a sure thing that the buccaneers would have drunk themselves silly, and the Spaniards, who are too feeble-stomached for an orgie, would not have failed to use their soberness to bring about a massacre. But, as has been said, the carrack was a dry ship; she was carried off with neither wine nor rum in her store; and to this alone may her safety be credited. Indeed so especially keen were these thirsty buccaneers to arrive at Tortuga and commence their debauch, that they employed extra watchfulness to make sure no impediment came in their way, and by this means alone discovered the hateful plot which the Spaniards were hatching against them. There was amongst the Spaniards it seems an apothecary, who had earned a certain ill-omened fame. The city which he polluted by his residence contained husbands who wished to be rid of their wives, and wives who had tired of their husbands. The apothecary supplied the means; indeed it was the wretch's boast that he had plied this horrid trade of poisoner for ten whole years with immunity, and then got found out only by jealousy of a business rival. Indeed so large was his circle of patrons, and so strong his power, that even at his trial he was used leniently and spared the torture, lest he might tell too much, and in the end was condemned only to the galleys, when he should most justly have been slowly burned. So when a plot was formed against the buccaneers, here on the carrack was a task in his old trade ready to the apothecary's hand, and that was no less than to kill outright by poison all who were not Spaniards. It seems there was a parcel of herbs and roots and snake's teeth amongst the cargo suited for his purpose, and he got hold of these, and set about making his tinctures and decoctions. Even then he might have succeeded, if he had done his work quick and sudden after the plot was made; but it seems that there can be artists amongst poisoners as there are in other trades, and here was one that took a most dainty pride in his horrid craft. A crude, rasping poison would not suit him. He must needs purify and distil a dozen times over till he had made a death drug of the most exquisite fineness; and his hundred and forty compatriots who were all in the secret, sat round and watched and gloated over their coming triumph and vengeance. What made the deed one of such plain simplicity was the manner in which the two parties had separated themselves. From the very first day on board, the English and French buccaneers had taken the cabins that are set apart for officers and passengers under the half-deck and poop; and the Spaniards did not presume to harbour anywhere except in the forward castle, or the upper holds. There is a sea sumptuary law or etiquette about these dispositions that is very strict. Moreover, gradually as the feeling between the two bodies became more strained, there was less and less intercourse between them. Indeed, by Rupert's direction, the buccaneers posted constantly a couple of armed sentries on the break of the poop with a loaded culverin by each, trained so as to sweep the waist and the lower deck, and with lighted matches in tubs standing by their side. The sentries were changed with every watch, and the Spaniards knew quite well that they would fire on small occasion. And moreover, after nightfall, battle-lanterns were hung in the rigging, so that there should be no rushing the after deck under cover of darkness. The matter that gave the apothecary his opening was a sea custom of the buccaneers. Ashore these men are the most dextrous of cooks, often killing a cow especially so that her udder may provide them with a delicate joint, and serving it with pimento and other sauces to lend it piquant flavour. In a word, on dry land they are gourmands and glory in the fact. But at sea they are quite different; they can live there on victual of the roughest; and it is their conceit moreover to rate the office of cook as the lowest on shipboard. Either they make their prisoners do the work, or they carry a slave to dress their victual, or they are even content to swallow it raw sooner than grease their tarry fingers with either roasting-spit or boiler. On this captured carrack, then, as may be supposed, they pressed a couple of Spaniards into the caboose (as the cookhouse is named at sea), and although these showed a stiff lip at first, and required some beating before they would serve, presently (after their devilish plot was concocted) they made the boils and the stews and the other sea dishes with docility, and, it must be confessed also, with appetising skill. To the Yorkshireman Simpson must be credited the first hint that all was not as it should be. He and the Prince and the secretary were sitting on the taffrail one night between two of the great poop lanterns, and Rupert found occasion to comment that the voyage was drawing towards its conclusion very peacefully. "'Appen," said Simpson, "and again, Captain, 'appen not. Them Spaniards makes out to be a sight too contented for my liking. They were as mad as hay about the way we shared up that treasure, an' they're far from liking t' idea of a happy week near owd Skin-the-Pike i' Tortuga. Now tha'llt not tell me they've forgotten; Spaniards is vengeful devils an' they niver forgets. And I tell tha' what, young feller, I'd be a deal more comfortable if they was up an' fighting with us." "Pooh!" said Rupert lightly. "Spaniard-hating has grown to be a disease with you, Master Simpson. And, besides, we have taken our precautions. Look at the sentries. You can see the matches burning in their tubs from here." "A Spaniard is as artful as a bagful of monkeys." "And we fancy we are not without some strategy ourselves." Simpson put a thumb on his chin. "Look here, now, young feller. I'd like t' 'ave tha' a bet on about it. I'll lay tha' an even pint potful o' silver pieces they try to have their knives into us before we've an anchor down in Tortuga Harbour." "I'll take your wager with pleasure." "Well," said Simpson, with a wink, "it's my brass," and there the talk ended. But that night, when Master Laughan was officer of the watch and was patrolling the poop with due form and ceremony, the Yorkshireman came up and made an announcement of his plans in a cautious whisper. "I'm bahn to win yon bet, if cleverness will do it, and just to give Captain Rupert a suck in."--He winked, and patted the secretary's arm confidentially.--"I know these Spanish beggars more than a bit, an' it's my belief they wouldn't cower so quiet unless they were hatching mischief. Now say note to Rupert, lad, an' if tha' hears them cutting my throat forrard, call all the hands aft here and clear the decks for bloody war. By gum, I'll win yon potful of pieces, choose 'ow."--With which he took himself off up the mizzen rigging, and was lost in the blackness of the night overhead. It was clear that the man thought more of winning his paltry wager than of insuring the safety of his fellow-buccaneers, and the secretary smiled (but with tears in her eyes) as she thought of his crazy daring. But it seemed, when he came back afterwards to tell his tale, that Master Simpson had a shrewd notion of taking care of his own skin even when he so dangerously risked it. As has been said, the waist and the lower maindeck of the carrack was lit with battle lanthorns, but these only accentuated the darkness which wrapped the rest of her. The Yorkshireman, despite his size and weight, could climb with an ape's handiness. He made his way up to the mizzen topmast head, keeping always in the shadow of the spars and canvas; then like some uncouth crawling insect laid out along the stays, reaching first the main, and then the fore top mast head and finally slipping down the outer bolt-sprit stay, and crouched in the top of the mast there for a moment to recover breath. Below him, past the gammoning of the bolt-sprit, was the open-work of the ship's beak, upheld by her figure-head, and in the high wall of the forward castle beyond, the lamplight gleamed out warmly through the two open gun-ports. Quietly Master Simpson made his way down by the foot ropes, keeping most jealously to the shadows, and finally took up his post beneath one of these openings, settling himself comfortably so as to avoid unnecessary cramp. He would certainly have been killed a hundred times over if he had been caught there, but he stayed coolly on, listening to the chatter inside, hour after hour, and still hearing nothing of especial moment. It was terribly risky work. But as he explained afterwards he learned nothing of moment and wasn't inclined to give up hope of winning the bet till daylight came in and clearly routed him. He said he came from a country where they meant winning when they laid a wager, whatever it might cost to bring success. But at last he heard what suited him, and what indeed saved every life in the after part of the ship, and returning laboriously by the way he had come, high over the rigging, he dropped down to the poop deck at the exact spot he had left it. Master Laughan met him there, heavy-eyed for want of sleep, and soaked with the dew of night, and somewhat crabbedly inquired his news. The fellow had given her a good racking of anxiety, and she did not wish to show it. But he laughed at her whimsically enough, and said his news would keep till breakfast time, and that for the present he was all yawns, and with that went below to his bed place. Which example the secretary in some annoyance followed forthwith. Sentries challenged and bells clanged, watches were relieved and the routine of the night went on in its rigid way, and at last the timekeeper in charge of the glass cried seven o'clock and bade all hands rouse and bit. The toilettes of shipboard are hasty, as all when on the unstable sea sleep in their clothes to be ready for the sudden alarms which are so frequent. Indeed it has been neatly expressed, that seamen like dogs give one good shake, and are awake and dressed. And so when the timekeeper gave his cry and turned his glass, almost before the sand had begun to run the other way, all of the carrack's afterguard were turned out, and ready for their breakfasts. There is no delicate napery at sea, and on this carrack, then, there was not so much as a salt vat to decorate the table. To each man was a wooden platter and a leathern cup, fitting into cavities cut in the board to keep them in place against the vessel's rolling, and the benches which served as seats were built into the solid fabric of the deck. A savoury smell advertised the cook's coming, and the ship's company seated themselves on the benches before the table, and each drew his knife and laid it before him in readiness. Then the cook came into the great cabin bearing the mess kid in his arms, a lean, dark-faced man with a notable squint. The rude men at the table sniffed appreciatively, and the cook, setting the mess-kid on the deck, took out his great ladle and began filling the platters one by one as they were handed to him, and then when all were loaded, the fellow that had been appointed chaplain, rose to his feet, shut his eyes, and prepared to say the grace. But at this point Simpson slipped round to the door of the cabin and cried a loud "Halt!" Many faces were turned upon him frowningly. They brooked ill, these buccaneers, any interference with their religious exercises. But Simpson was not the man to be quieted by a scowl. "Captain," said he, "I'll have to ask tha' for yon half-pint o' silver pieces." "It is yours, Master Simpson," said the Prince politely, "but I'd take it as courteous if you'd tell how you've earned it." "Simple enough," said the Yorkshireman. "I just ask you to force the cook to sample his own wares." "Why, we have a new cook to-day," said Rupert, staring at the Spaniard who held the mess-kid. "True enough," said Simpson, "and afore turning cook, he was galley-slave, and afore that he practised as apothecary. It sticks in my mind that to-day he's mixed t' two businesses together and given us some apothecary's drugs in his cook's stew. If he hasn't, well, Captain, I may yet owe you the bet, but, if he has, I think you might pay up t' brass." "Most certainly," said Rupert, "and I think the thing is easy proved, by watching the man eat a platter full of his own mess. _Señor el Cocinero_," he said, dropping into the Spanish tongue, "by its savoury smell to-day your cooking has surpassed even its previous excellence." The cook gave a doubtful little bow. "But there exists some doubt as to the wholesomeness of the condiments wherewith you have flavoured it. The nearest vacant place at the table appears to be my own. May I beg of you to honour me by sitting in it and to show by your own appreciation how excellent is the mess you have brought for us." The cook gripped tight on to his ladle and glared about him like a trapped wild animal. "I am not hungry," he said, "and besides I am a Catholic and could not eat after the meat has been blessed by your chaplain. But the food is quite wholesome." "I might point out to you that our honoured chaplain has not yet said the grace, nor will he till we know more about what is set before us." "I will not eat," said the cook, and shivered violently. "I tell you I have no appetite. I am not hungry." "My good man," said Rupert, "I stand in the position of king over this vessel, and my courteous invitation may be construed as a royal command. If you have no appetite, we must find you one." He signed to those of the buccaneers who sat nearest at the table, and these, who began to realise how matters lay, were nothing loath to give the cook some rough handling. He was forced into the chair at the head of the board, and those who held him began sawing at his ears with their knives. For long enough he withstood the torture, and sat there sullenly with the blood dripping on to his shoulders, and the buccaneers down the table, with the untouched platters still smoking before them, rested on their elbows and watched him. Prince Rupert, a man who was usually averse to these rude proceedings, looked on with a face that was hard and frowning, and except for the secretary, who felt herself pale as she watched, there was not a trace of pity shown by anyone. Stoically this monster of a cook held out, proving by his very stubbornness how complete was his guilt, but at length he began to recognise that the grim men who held him were not the sort that show undue leanings towards mercy. He had to choose between eating or being carved alive; and as a poisoner of long and loathly experience, the full horrors of his dish were well known to him. But the sharp, cold pain of the knives daunted him at last, and with a cry he stretched out his hand and began to scoop up the food in the platter before him, and to cram it into his mouth. He fed like a beast, the sooner to get it over, but those who watched him expressed neither disgust nor interest; remained, in fact, immovable; and his eyes roved over the board and glared at them horribly. At last the platter was cleaned, and he sat back in his chair with a face lividly white and beaded with perspiration. No one spoke; all in the great cabin watched him with unwinking eyes. Presently he reached out his hand for a mug of water, and gulped it down. His teeth chattered against the lip of the drinking vessel; black rings grew round his eye-sockets. He lay back again in the chair, gripping hard upon the arms, and closing his eyes tightly. He knew the symptoms which should arrive, and in imagination endured half their torments before they actually came to him. When one remembered how he would have dealt out similar anguish to all the French and English of the ship's company, one could not deny that he was rightly served. But being human, one perforce had to pity as one watched. But at last the pains began to grip him in real grinding earnest. He strained himself to that side and to this. He writhed like a wounded worm. He screamed aloud for someone in pity to kill him. But the mercy that he had dealt out to others was given him in full measure then. He was taken out through a door on to the main deck and laid there on a hatch, and the platters with the poisoned food were laid in a ring round him, and there he was left for his friends to deal with as they chose. And the exact manner of his wicked end, the present historian does not know. On the poop above, the matches smoked in their tubs and the sentries stood by the loaded culverins which commanded the main deck. In the great cabin below Prince Rupert was paying to Master Simpson the amount of his wager. Simpson spat on the last coin for luck before he pocketed it. "I'll give tha' a revenge," he said. "I'll bet tha' on onything that comes, nobbut just mention it." "You're too shrewd for me," said Rupert laughing. "But I'd like to bet you another small wager that our Spaniards give us no more trouble after to-day." "Tha'rt bahn to be shut o' t' lot of them, eh? There's an island close aboard, an' tha'st a mind to set 'em all ashore to laak about as they please? That's what we Bretheren of the Coast call marooning, an' it's just what they deserve. They were all i' t' poisoning, an' they all deserve what t' druggist got, an' worse. An' when we're shut o' them, we'll just tak' their share o' t' brass an squander it under owd Skin-the-Pike's nose in Tortuga along wi' t' rest." "H'm," said Rupert, and appeared to consider. And then he sighed and said: "Well, Master Simpson, I suppose by the time money is carried across to The Hague that one piece will look so much like another that the King will not be able to distinguish between any of them. I am beginning to learn the lesson that it does not do to be too nice about small matters here in these seas of the New World." "Not when there's Jack-Spaniards i' question," assented Simpson, and there the talk broke off, and the Prince began making his dispositions for the capture of the carrack by the buccaneers. As it chanced the powder room was aft, and those in the forward portion of the ship could neither use great guns or small arms, and when other pieces were drawn up on the poop, and men stood beside them with smoking lintstocks all ready to fire, the Spaniards had no stomach for a rush, but incontinently surrendered. The prestige of the buccaneers was so great amongst these people, that it saved even the semblance of a skirmish. Prince Rupert cried his orders, and with their own hands they hove the carrack to, hoisted out the two boats which lay on the booms, and tumbled over one another in their anxiety to be in them and off to try their fortune on the island which lay close under their lee. As was natural, they had done their best to leave the ship ablaze behind them as a souvenir, but the buccaneers anticipated this, and went forward when the last of the wretches had gone, and had small trouble in extinguishing the flames. After which they let fly a shotted salvo from all the great guns after their common fashion, and once more trimmed sail, and got along their course. Again see the finger of fate. That very afternoon they came across a small pink out of Nombre de Dios, loaded with rum. They gave her freedom for being engaged in so desirable a trade, only exacting some dozen puncheons of the liquor as a ransom, and when the sun went down upon the sea, there was the carrack in charge of Prince Rupert and Master Laughan, as being the only two sober souls in all her company. The rest of the tipsy dogs were making night shiver with their shoutings, and their shootings, and their singings, and all the other insanities of debauch. And if the Spaniards had been on board, the silly fellows would have got drunk just the same. There is no trusting these buccaneers of the Spanish Main once they have got liquor to their hands, and that is the great reason why they are so unthrifty with their lives. Even a hard-witted fellow like Simpson the Yorkshireman could addle his brain on these occasions like the weakest of them. Still with that happy-go-lucky navigation which is one of the features of the Carib Sea, the carrack sailed on, missing the reefs and shallows, coming to no harm in the gales, and in time she came to the harbour of Tortuga, for which she aimed. The buccaneers stood to the guns, firing shot from them in joyous salvos, and caring not one iota where the said shot flew. The carrack fluttered with banners and ancients, and the castle, and the squalid town by the water's edge, and the shipping at anchor quickly hoisted flags in welcome. There is no mistaking the manner of buccaneers returning well laden, and the harpies of Tortuga who live on such are not niggard in showing their joy that more ruffians have come in to be fleeced. Boats put out from the beach manned by vintners and tawdry hussies, each desirous of being first to catch a man, and on the castle of the Governor three trumpets and a drum made desirable music. There was a fleet of three ships anchored apart from the others in the harbour, and Rupert's eye moistened as he looked upon them. They were the ships of His Majesty Charles II., which had come out to these seas with Rupert as Admiral to gain moneys for the upkeep of the Court at The Hague. They had been pawned to Monsieur D'Ogeron as a ransom for those distressed cavaliers that the accursed Cromwell had sold to the buccaneers. And here they were, out of their period of service, and ready once more to take on board their natural Admiral. "Shall I round up the carrack amongst the fleet?" asked Master Laughan, who stood at the helm. "It will be a joyful moment for our people when they know who's returned to them." "Let them keep their joy, then, for another hour or so," said Rupert, "and do you carry on to an anchorage beyond. Seeing for how long a time we've been parted, it is only civil that first I should go up to the castle and pay my respects to Monsieur D'Ogeron. He and I have still an account to settle before I leave this desirable harbour." So the carrack was brought to an anchor, with her courses roughly brailed and topsails lowered. But there was no attempt at stowing the canvas tidily, as the buccaneers were too keen to get ashore for their organised debauch, and, indeed, were already too drunk to venture aloft and out upon the foot-ropes. So all went off in shore-boats to the beach, and Rupert took the secretary's arm and turned to stroll up to the hill-top, where the castle crouched menacingly over the harbour. The women of the place tried hard with their loathly blandishments to detain them, but Prince Rupert was not the man to heed such tawdry Circes as these, though indeed he declined their invitation civilly, and even with a laughing word. So by degrees they walked up under the baking sunshine, and passed underneath the massive beam of the gateway, where the heads of Monsieur D'Ogeron's most recent enemies grilled under an outrageous sun. The entrance yard was a mere rat-pit, a trap in which the unfriendly could be shot down without a chance of retaliation. The only entrance door was in the upper story, and the ladder which gave access to this was hauled up with a chain and a pulley. However, after an exacting parley with a sentinel, Monsieur D'Ogeron consented to give audience to his visitors, and, once inside, extended to them his usual coarse amiability. "_Mon Prince_," he cried, "you have come back to claim your fleet within a week of the day on which it reverts to your command. If one may judge by your clothes, you've been seeing service. I trust that your outlay of courage has brought you a full financial return?" "So--so," said Rupert. "Well, try my brew of sangoree. You'll have found by now that this climate breeds a most delicious thirst." "I thank you, but I will not drink." The Governor laughed pleasantly. "You still stick to your Old-World courtesies, I see. Now, to me, one drink's as good as another, and I'd not refuse a man's invitation to swallow his sangoree, even if I were going to cut his throat next minute." "I can believe it of you. You are a very nasty fellow, Monsieur." The Governor of Tortuga shrugged his shoulders and blew a long mouthful of tobacco smoke from his pipe. But he took no offence. "You didn't come up here to quarrel with me in words, I'll be bound, _mon Prince_. Neither did you call with the intention of putting your sword through me, as you know well by this how cunningly I can defend myself, and how unpleasant it is for callers to annoy me. Your Highness is a man of observation. You'll have noted the heads above the gateway?" "They are all new since I was here last. Your Excellency is right. I did not come to exchange courtesies, civil or otherwise. I came for business: in a word, I am here to receive an account of my fleet's performance." "Oh, they served me passing well, thanks to my own officers who were on board to keep tally and give directions. They caught five ships on the sea, and skimmed one a nice fat town. They brought no women back with them, having some foolish scruple, which even my officers could not get over--indeed, come to think of it, their obedience at times was none of the best--and, thirsty dogs that they were, they drank up all the wine they captured long before they sailed back into harbour here. But I'll not complain. They brought me a most appetising cargo of gold bars and plate." "Which should have gone to the King." Monsieur D'Ogeron reached out for the smouldering lintstock which stood on the table, and relit his pipe. "What, you still toy with that old fable of loyalty? Well, I've accounted myself no small judge of men, but it's a strange world, this. Why, by this, they'll have forgotten you in Europe." "I flatter myself they'll keep me longer in memory." The Governor shook his head and his pipe. "And your King will have written off your ships from his accounts as a speculation that's failed. Now, if I were your Highness, I'd not surprise him. I'd keep those ships. And I'd found myself a pretty little kingdom out here, and be absolute, and not go home to be servant again to an unstable Stuart. Why, Prince, you've got all the materials for a kingdom ready and waiting: the men are in your own ships; the women you can gather from any city of the Main you like to fetch them from, and there you are with the essentials complete. You choose your site, you build your town and fort, you catch your Indians, or you import Guinea blacks for slaves, and for occupation and revenue you raid the Spanish, when indeed you are not enjoying domestic joys at home. And, let me tell you, that domestic joys out here are not things to be valued lightly. They grow upon a man." "Sir," said Rupert, "have done. By now you might have known that such talk disgusts me. You appear to find enjoyment in living over that swinish village, which you miscall a town, on the beach yonder; but other men are built different, and, for myself, it would make me sick." Monsieur D'Ogeron remained unruffled. "I see what you're at," he said with a wink. "You want to make me lose my temper and consent to fight you. Why should I? For honour? I haven't any. For chivalry? I've forgotten what it is. To please your whim? Why, there my own disinclination comes first. I haven't a particle of quarrel with you, _mon Prince_, and I really do not see how you can scratch one up. I've got the best of the bargain over the fleet, I've got the best of the bargain all through, and I quite see you've your sore. But I refuse to let you heal it by carving holes in me.--Here's to your speedy mending," said he, and swigged deeply at the sangoree.--"I do wish your Highness would drink. This abstinence is a slur on my hospitality." Prince Rupert sat biting his nails in bitter anger. He knew well the dispositions of the Governor of Tortuga's audience-room from previous humiliating experience. Behind one curtain stood a demi-bombarde, with a gunner and a lighted lintstock beside it, which could blow him to pieces at a word. Behind another curtain was another rogue, holding strings that governed those traps in the flooring which shot Monsieur D'Ogeron's unwelcome visitors into the dungeons beneath. And for aught the Prince knew, there might be other monkey pranks in readiness equally nasty. To be beaten by anyone was bad enough, but to be beaten by a creature of the low, dishonourable cunning of this Monsieur de Tortuga was past a gentleman's endurance. And so Rupert bit his nails through helpless rage. The Governor lay back in his chair, watching the fumes from his tobacco pipe as they drifted towards the beams above, but withal keeping the tail of one eye warily upon the Prince. He was a man well-used to danger, and he plumed himself that he knew where danger lay, and by forethought was amply secured against it. But he had all his mind for the Prince, and not so much as a thought for the secretary, and indeed openly sneered at the poor creature for her slim figure and (what he was pleased to term) mincing, finicking ways. Indeed, if the bare truth be told, it was as much resentment at this contemptuous neglect (and to show the brute that she could be as dangerous as any man) that the poor secretary made the move that cut the Gordian knot of the situation. For by a sudden leap she stood behind Monsieur D'Ogeron's chair, pressing her poniard down upon his left shoulder. She cried out that she would assuredly drive the weapon down into his heart if he moved, or if any of those who watched round the room so much as stirred, and of a truth would have murdered him there in sheer self-defence if he had disobeyed, though the mere thought of doing it turned her sick. Rupert, with his quick appreciation of events, sat himself suddenly on the table (knowing the instability of the floor), and the frowns on his face changed to merry laughter. "Bravo, Stephen, lad," cried he. "Strike home if there's any discourtesy shown you. And now, Monsieur D'Ogeron, our diplomacy has come down to a plane where you may find yourself more amenable to reason." The Governor smoked on unmoved. A curtain at one side of the room whisked across and showed a gunner, lighted match in hand, standing over the touch-hole of his piece. Another curtain moved away, and there was the man who commanded the strings of the traps of the floor, and behind him a dozen uncombed fellows, each with pistols and hanger. "We seem at a deadlock," said the Governor, with a wave of his pipe-stem. "As for the lock, that's to be proved, Monsieur," said Master Laughan from behind him; "but as for being dead, why, there you will take precedence of all in this chamber when action begins." And in emphasis she twisted the poniard so that it might prick the Governor's shoulder through his clothing. The Governor reached slowly for his sangoree and drank it with an air. "_Mon Prince_," he said, "the needs of your gracious sovereign at The Hague really begin to touch my conscience. If so lowly a creature as myself might help with a mite, it would give me vast pleasure to become his banker to the extent of--well, I am in an open mood to-day--say anything up to ten thousand pieces-of-eight." "It is strange," said Rupert, "but our wishes seem to jump the same way. In fact you could not have made a more pleasing suggestion, Monsieur, except that you made one small tongue-slip in the figures. Surely the sum you had in mind was fifty thousand?" "You are quite right. I meant to have said twenty thousand, though it will leave my treasury dangerously bare." "Fifty," said Rupert pleasantly. "One cannot do the impossible. I have some very ingenious torture instruments in this castle, and some very patient tormentors who are skilled in their use. Between them they have brought about some marvellous changes of opinion, but even they could not make me say more than thirty thousand. If you doubt me, and carry this matter too far, perhaps presently you will be persuaded to go down into the torture chamber and test the perfection of my instruments for yourselves?" "Ah, there," said Rupert, "I fear we must decline your invitation, Monsieur. Strange though it may seem in these seas of the New World, both Master Laughan and I have a certain niceness of nature which makes the sight of such things unpalatable. But I think, Stephen, that if you pressed your point a little further home, Monsieur D'Ogeron might still be brought to see things in our light." Upon which the secretary in her nervousness thrust at the poniard so shrewdly, that the Governor with a bundle of oaths yelled out that he was beaten, and only prayed that the beastly dagger might be taken away from his shoulder. "Young man," said he, "you had your iron far enough in for me to feel the chill. Do you know this is a very dangerous prank to play with one of my habit of life?" There was still a difficulty remaining as to how the money was to be taken from the Castle treasury to the cabin of his flagship in the fleet where Rupert wished to see it stowed. The Prince distrusted Monsieur D'Ogeron implicitly, and (to own the bare truth) Monsieur D'Ogeron was indecently wary lest he should get himself too far into the Prince's hands. But in the end the pair of them left the castle arm-in-arm as though they had been the dearest of friends, and Master Laughan, as a dependent should, marched humbly behind them, though with a dagger very handy. Chairs and a table were set upon the beach, and presently drink was brought (without which little business is done in the New World) and the pair of them toasted one another very handsomely. Even a creature like the Governor of Tortuga could not but admire the splendid parts of Rupert Palatine, and it seems that Rupert found points of excellence even in Monsieur D'Ogeron. Meanwhile the money was brought down in sacks, and taken out in boats to the fleet, where a receipt was duly given, and the Governor saw his ill-got riches taken away from him for the service of the King without a frown or an angry word. He had the virtue of philosophy, this monarch of the buccaneers, and accepted the unavoidable like a man of sense. And moreover, as he said, the harvest of those seas was inexhaustible. The Spaniard, like the devil, was always with them, and it was an honest buccaneer's duty to get the better of both. So the money was paid, and the parting was made, and Prince Rupert was rowed out across the still waters of the harbour to take his proper place once more as Admiral of the King's fleet. Master Laughan followed at his heels with a heart loaded with cheerful emotions. Alas, poor fond creature, little did she know that they were posting towards that lamentable quarrel which (soon after the horrid drowning of Prince Maurice) separated them eternally. Little did Rupert guess that he was so soon to be separated from one whose love and faithfulness towards him has been abundantly proved to all the world. Little did the secretary dream that she would lose as her patron that most noble, fearless and adorable man ever born since history began. One weapon alone could the secretary have used that would have stilled the quarrel the moment it began; if she had declared her sex Rupert would have taken back the bitter word that drove her from his side. But she would have died sooner than make confession; and when she left her Prince, he was still ignorant that it was the maid Mary Laughan, and not Stephen the youth who had so lovingly and truly served him. THE END. THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH BY THE SAME AUTHOR THE FILIBUSTERS THE LOST CONTINENT THE RECIPE FOR DIAMONDS HONOUR OF THIEVES THE STRONGER HAND THE PARADISE COALBOAT ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN KETTLE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN KETTLE THROUGH ARCTIC LAPLAND MR HORROCKS, PURSER 
26862	----	[Illustration: The Challenge Studio April 7 1903. H. Pyle. del.] [Illustration: Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates Ye Pirate Bold, as imagined by a Quaker Gentleman in the-- Farm Lands of Pennsylvania-- Howard Pyle--Chadds Ford September 13th 1903--] [Illustration: AN ATTACK ON A GALLEON] Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates Fiction, Fact & Fancy concerning the Buccaneers & Marooners of the Spanish Main: _From the_ writing & Pictures _of_ Howard Pyle: _Compiled by_ Merle Johnson Harper & Brothers _Publishers_ New York & London * * * * * CONTENTS PAGE FOREWORD BY MERLE JOHNSON xi PREFACE xiii I. BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN 3 II. THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND 39 III. WITH THE BUCCANEERS 75 IV. TOM CHIST AND THE TREASURE BOX 99 V. JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES 129 VI. BLUESKIN, THE PIRATE 150 VII. CAPTAIN SCARFIELD 187 VIII. THE RUBY OF KISHMOOR 210 [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration] ILLUSTRATIONS AN ATTACK ON A GALLEON _Frontispiece_ ON THE TOTUGAS _Facing p._ 6 CAPTURE OF THE GALLEON " 10 HENRY MORGAN RECRUITING FOR THE ATTACK " 14 MORGAN AT PORTO BELLO " 16 THE SACKING OF PANAMA " 20 MAROONED " 26 BLACKBEARD BURIES HIS TREASURE " 32 WALKING THE PLANK " 36 "CAPTAIN MALYOE SHOT CAPTAIN BRAND THROUGH THE HEAD" " 40 "SHE WOULD SIT QUITE STILL, PERMITTING BARNABY TO GAZE" " 68 BURIED TREASURE " 76 KIDD ON THE DECK OF THE "ADVENTURE GALLEY" " 85 BURNING THE SHIP " 92 WHO SHALL BE CAPTAIN? " 104 KIDD AT GARDINER'S ISLAND " 108 EXTORTING TRIBUTE FROM THE CITIZENS " 116 "PIRATES USED TO DO THAT TO THEIR CAPTAINS NOW AND THEN" " 124 "JACK FOLLOWED THE CAPTAIN AND THE YOUNG LADY UP THE CROOKED PATH TO THE HOUSE" " 132 "HE LED JACK UP TO A MAN WHO SAT UPON A BARREL" " 136 "THE BULLETS WERE HUMMING AND SINGING, CLIPPING ALONG THE TOP OF THE WATER" " 142 "THE COMBATANTS CUT AND SLASHED WITH SAVAGE FURY" " 146 SO THE TREASURE WAS DIVIDED " 154 COLONEL RHETT AND THE PIRATE " 162 THE PIRATE'S CHRISTMAS " 174 "HE LAY SILENT AND STILL, WITH HIS FACE HALF BURIED IN THE SAND" " 182 "THERE CAP'N GOLDSACK GOES, CREEPING, CREEPING, CREEPING, LOOKING FOR HIS TREASURE DOWN BELOW!" " 186 "HE HAD FOUND THE CAPTAIN AGREEABLE AND COMPANIONABLE" " 190 THE BUCCANEER WAS A PICTURESQUE FELLOW " 196 THEN THE REAL FIGHT BEGAN " 200 "HE STRUCK ONCE AND AGAIN AT THE BALD, NARROW FOREHEAD BENEATH HIM" " 206 CAPTAIN KEITT " 212 HOW THE BUCCANEERS KEPT CHRISTMAS " 224 THE BURNING SHIP " 236 DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES " 240 "I AM THE DAUGHTER OF THAT UNFORTUNATE CAPTAIN KEITT" " 244 * * * * * FOREWORD Pirates, Buccaneers, Marooners, those cruel but picturesque sea wolves who once infested the Spanish Main, all live in present-day conceptions in great degree as drawn by the pen and pencil of Howard Pyle. Pyle, artist-author, living in the latter half of the nineteenth century and the first decade of the twentieth, had the fine faculty of transposing himself into any chosen period of history and making its people flesh and blood again--not just historical puppets. His characters were sketched with both words and picture; with both words and picture he ranks as a master, with a rich personality which makes his work individual and attractive in either medium. He was one of the founders of present-day American illustration, and his pupils and grand-pupils pervade that field to-day. While he bore no such important part in the world of letters, his stories are modern in treatment, and yet widely read. His range included historical treatises concerning his favorite Pirates (Quaker though he was); fiction, with the same Pirates as principals; Americanized version of Old World fairy tales; boy stories of the Middle Ages, still best sellers to growing lads; stories of the occult, such as _In Tenebras_ and _To the Soil of the Earth_, which, if newly published, would be hailed as contributions to our latest cult. In all these fields Pyle's work may be equaled, surpassed, save in one. It is improbable that anyone else will ever bring his combination of interest and talent to the depiction of these old-time Pirates, any more than there could be a second Remington to paint the now extinct Indians and gun-fighters of the Great West. Important and interesting to the student of history, the adventure-lover, and the artist, as they are, these Pirate stories and pictures have been scattered through many magazines and books. Here, in this volume, they are gathered together for the first time, perhaps not just as Mr. Pyle would have done, but with a completeness and appreciation of the real value of the material which the author's modesty might not have permitted. MERLE JOHNSON. [Illustration] [Illustration] PREFACE Why is it that a little spice of deviltry lends not an unpleasantly titillating twang to the great mass of respectable flour that goes to make up the pudding of our modern civilization? And pertinent to this question another--Why is it that the pirate has, and always has had, a certain lurid glamour of the heroical enveloping him round about? Is there, deep under the accumulated debris of culture, a hidden groundwork of the old-time savage? Is there even in these well-regulated times an unsubdued nature in the respectable mental household of every one of us that still kicks against the pricks of law and order? To make my meaning more clear, would not every boy, for instance--that is, every boy of any account--rather be a pirate captain than a Member of Parliament? And we ourselves--would we not rather read such a story as that of Captain Avery's capture of the East Indian treasure ship, with its beautiful princess and load of jewels (which gems he sold by the handful, history sayeth, to a Bristol merchant), than, say, one of Bishop Atterbury's sermons, or the goodly Master Robert Boyle's religious romance of "Theodora and Didymus"? It is to be apprehended that to the unregenerate nature of most of us there can be but one answer to such a query. In the pleasurable warmth the heart feels in answer to tales of derring-do Nelson's battles are all mightily interesting, but, even in spite of their romance of splendid courage, I fancy that the majority of us would rather turn back over the leaves of history to read how Drake captured the Spanish treasure ship in the South Sea, and of how he divided such a quantity of booty in the Island of Plate (so named because of the tremendous dividend there declared) that it had to be measured in quart bowls, being too considerable to be counted. Courage and daring, no matter how mad and ungodly, have always a redundancy of _vim_ and life to recommend them to the nether man that lies within us, and no doubt his desperate courage, his battle against the tremendous odds of all the civilized world of law and order, have had much to do in making a popular hero of our friend of the black flag. But it is not altogether courage and daring that endear him to our hearts. There is another and perhaps a greater kinship in that lust for wealth that makes one's fancy revel more pleasantly in the story of the division of treasure in the pirate's island retreat, the hiding of his godless gains somewhere in the sandy stretch of tropic beach, there to remain hidden until the time should come to rake the doubloons up again and to spend them like a lord in polite society, than in the most thrilling tales of his wonderful escapes from commissioned cruisers through tortuous channels between the coral reefs. And what a life of adventure is his, to be sure! A life of constant alertness, constant danger, constant escape! An ocean Ishmaelite, he wanders forever aimlessly, homelessly; now unheard of for months, now careening his boat on some lonely uninhabited shore, now appearing suddenly to swoop down on some merchant vessel with rattle of musketry, shouting, yells, and a hell of unbridled passions let loose to rend and tear. What a Carlislean hero! What a setting of blood and lust and flame and rapine for such a hero! Piracy, such as was practiced in the flower of its days--that is, during the early eighteenth century--was no sudden growth. It was an evolution, from the semilawful buccaneering of the sixteenth century, just as buccaneering was upon its part, in a certain sense, an evolution from the unorganized, unauthorized warfare of the Tudor period. For there was a deal of piratical smack in the anti-Spanish ventures of Elizabethan days. Many of the adventurers--of the Sir Francis Drake school, for instance--actually overstepped again and again the bounds of international law, entering into the realms of _de facto_ piracy. Nevertheless, while their doings were not recognized officially by the government, the perpetrators were neither punished nor reprimanded for their excursions against Spanish commerce at home or in the West Indies; rather were they commended, and it was considered not altogether a discreditable thing for men to get rich upon the spoils taken from Spanish galleons in times of nominal peace. Many of the most reputable citizens and merchants of London, when they felt that the queen failed in her duty of pushing the fight against the great Catholic Power, fitted out fleets upon their own account and sent them to levy good Protestant war of a private nature upon the Pope's anointed. Some of the treasures captured in such ventures were immense, stupendous, unbelievable. For an example, one can hardly credit the truth of the "purchase" gained by Drake in the famous capture of the plate ship in the South Sea. One of the old buccaneer writers of a century later says: "The Spaniards affirm to this day that he took at that time twelvescore tons of plate and sixteen bowls of coined money a man (his number being then forty-five men in all), insomuch that they were forced to heave much of it overboard, because his ship could not carry it all." Maybe this was a very greatly exaggerated statement put by the author and his Spanish authorities, nevertheless there was enough truth in it to prove very conclusively to the bold minds of the age that tremendous profits--"purchases" they called them--were to be made from piracy. The Western World is filled with the names of daring mariners of those old days, who came flitting across the great trackless ocean in their little tublike boats of a few hundred tons burden, partly to explore unknown seas, partly--largely, perhaps--in pursuit of Spanish treasure: Frobisher, Davis, Drake, and a score of others. In this left-handed war against Catholic Spain many of the adventurers were, no doubt, stirred and incited by a grim, Calvinistic, puritanical zeal for Protestantism. But equally beyond doubt the gold and silver and plate of the "Scarlet Woman" had much to do with the persistent energy with which these hardy mariners braved the mysterious, unknown terrors of the great unknown ocean that stretched away to the sunset, there in far-away waters to attack the huge, unwieldy, treasure-laden galleons that sailed up and down the Caribbean Sea and through the Bahama Channel. Of all ghastly and terrible things old-time religious war was the most ghastly and terrible. One can hardly credit nowadays the cold, callous cruelty of those times. Generally death was the least penalty that capture entailed. When the Spaniards made prisoners of the English, the Inquisition took them in hand, and what that meant all the world knows. When the English captured a Spanish vessel the prisoners were tortured, either for the sake of revenge or to compel them to disclose where treasure lay hidden. Cruelty begat cruelty, and it would be hard to say whether the Anglo-Saxon or the Latin showed himself to be most proficient in torturing his victim. When Cobham, for instance, captured the Spanish ship in the Bay of Biscay, after all resistance was over and the heat of the battle had cooled, he ordered his crew to bind the captain and all of the crew and every Spaniard aboard--whether in arms or not--to sew them up in the mainsail and to fling them overboard. There were some twenty dead bodies in the sail when a few days later it was washed up on the shore. Of course such acts were not likely to go unavenged, and many an innocent life was sacrificed to pay the debt of Cobham's cruelty. Nothing could be more piratical than all this. Nevertheless, as was said, it was winked at, condoned, if not sanctioned, by the law; and it was not beneath people of family and respectability to take part in it. But by and by Protestantism and Catholicism began to be at somewhat less deadly enmity with each other; religious wars were still far enough from being ended, but the scabbard of the sword was no longer flung away when the blade was drawn. And so followed a time of nominal peace, and a generation arose with whom it was no longer respectable and worthy--one might say a matter of duty--to fight a country with which one's own land was not at war. Nevertheless, the seed had been sown; it had been demonstrated that it was feasible to practice piracy against Spain and not to suffer therefor. Blood had been shed and cruelty practiced, and, once indulged, no lust seems stronger than that of shedding blood and practicing cruelty. Though Spain might be ever so well grounded in peace at home, in the West Indies she was always at war with the whole world--English, French, Dutch. It was almost a matter of life or death with her to keep her hold upon the New World. At home she was bankrupt and, upon the earthquake of the Reformation, her power was already beginning to totter and to crumble to pieces. America was her treasure house, and from it alone could she hope to keep her leaking purse full of gold and silver. So it was that she strove strenuously, desperately, to keep out the world from her American possessions--a bootless task, for the old order upon which her power rested was broken and crumbled forever. But still she strove, fighting against fate, and so it was that in the tropical America it was one continual war between her and all the world. Thus it came that, long after piracy ceased to be allowed at home, it continued in those far-away seas with unabated vigor, recruiting to its service all that lawless malign element which gathers together in every newly opened country where the only law is lawlessness, where might is right and where a living is to be gained with no more trouble than cutting a throat. [Illustration: Howard Pyle, His mark] Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates [Illustration] Ye Pirate Bold. It is not because of his life of adventure and daring that I admire this one of my favorite heroes; nor is it because of blowing winds nor blue ocean nor balmy islands which he knew so well; nor is it because of gold he spent nor treasure he hid. He was a man who knew his own mind and what he wanted. Howard Pyle [Illustration] Chapter I BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN Just above the northwestern shore of the old island of Hispaniola--the Santo Domingo of our day--and separated from it only by a narrow channel of some five or six miles in width, lies a queer little hunch of an island, known, because of a distant resemblance to that animal, as the Tortuga de Mar, or sea turtle. It is not more than twenty miles in length by perhaps seven or eight in breadth; it is only a little spot of land, and as you look at it upon the map a pin's head would almost cover it; yet from that spot, as from a center of inflammation, a burning fire of human wickedness and ruthlessness and lust overran the world, and spread terror and death throughout the Spanish West Indies, from St. Augustine to the island of Trinidad, and from Panama to the coasts of Peru. About the middle of the seventeenth century certain French adventurers set out from the fortified island of St. Christopher in longboats and hoys, directing their course to the westward, there to discover new islands. Sighting Hispaniola "with abundance of joy," they landed, and went into the country, where they found great quantities of wild cattle, horses, and swine. Now vessels on the return voyage to Europe from the West Indies needed revictualing, and food, especially flesh, was at a premium in the islands of the Spanish Main; wherefore a great profit was to be turned in preserving beef and pork, and selling the flesh to homeward-bound vessels. The northwestern shore of Hispaniola, lying as it does at the eastern outlet of the old Bahama Channel, running between the island of Cuba and the great Bahama Banks, lay almost in the very main stream of travel. The pioneer Frenchmen were not slow to discover the double advantage to be reaped from the wild cattle that cost them nothing to procure, and a market for the flesh ready found for them. So down upon Hispaniola they came by boatloads and shiploads, gathering like a swarm of mosquitoes, and overrunning the whole western end of the island. There they established themselves, spending the time alternately in hunting the wild cattle and buccanning[1] the meat, and squandering their hardly earned gains in wild debauchery, the opportunities for which were never lacking in the Spanish West Indies. [Footnote 1: Buccanning, by which the "buccaneers" gained their name, was a process of curing thin strips of meat by salting, smoking, and drying in the sun.] At first the Spaniards thought nothing of the few travel-worn Frenchmen who dragged their longboats and hoys up on the beach, and shot a wild bullock or two to keep body and soul together; but when the few grew to dozens, and the dozens to scores, and the scores to hundreds, it was a very different matter, and wrathful grumblings and mutterings began to be heard among the original settlers. But of this the careless buccaneers thought never a whit, the only thing that troubled them being the lack of a more convenient shipping point than the main island afforded them. This lack was at last filled by a party of hunters who ventured across the narrow channel that separated the main island from Tortuga. Here they found exactly what they needed--a good harbor, just at the junction of the Windward Channel with the old Bahama Channel--a spot where four-fifths of the Spanish-Indian trade would pass by their very wharves. There were a few Spaniards upon the island, but they were a quiet folk, and well disposed to make friends with the strangers; but when more Frenchmen and still more Frenchmen crossed the narrow channel, until they overran the Tortuga and turned it into one great curing house for the beef which they shot upon the neighboring island, the Spaniards grew restive over the matter, just as they had done upon the larger island. Accordingly, one fine day there came half a dozen great boatloads of armed Spaniards, who landed upon the Turtle's Back and sent the Frenchmen flying to the woods and fastnesses of rocks as the chaff flies before the thunder gust. That night the Spaniards drank themselves mad and shouted themselves hoarse over their victory, while the beaten Frenchmen sullenly paddled their canoes back to the main island again, and the Sea Turtle was Spanish once more. But the Spaniards were not contented with such a petty triumph as that of sweeping the island of Tortuga free from the obnoxious strangers; down upon Hispaniola they came, flushed with their easy victory, and determined to root out every Frenchman, until not one single buccaneer remained. For a time they had an easy thing of it, for each French hunter roamed the woods by himself, with no better company than his half-wild dogs, so that when two or three Spaniards would meet such a one, he seldom if ever came out of the woods again, for even his resting place was lost. But the very success of the Spaniards brought their ruin along with it, for the buccaneers began to combine together for self-protection, and out of that combination arose a strange union of lawless man with lawless man, so near, so close, that it can scarce be compared to any other than that of husband and wife. When two entered upon this comradeship, articles were drawn up and signed by both parties, a common stock was made of all their possessions, and out into the woods they went to seek their fortunes; thenceforth they were as one man; they lived together by day, they slept together by night; what one suffered, the other suffered; what one gained, the other gained. The only separation that came betwixt them was death, and then the survivor inherited all that the other left. And now it was another thing with Spanish buccaneer hunting, for two buccaneers, reckless of life, quick of eye, and true of aim, were worth any half dozen of Spanish islanders. By and by, as the French became more strongly organized for mutual self-protection, they assumed the offensive. Then down they came upon Tortuga, and now it was the turn of the Spanish to be hunted off the island like vermin, and the turn of the French to shout their victory. Having firmly established themselves, a governor was sent to the French of Tortuga, one M. le Passeur, from the island of St. Christopher; the Sea Turtle was fortified, and colonists, consisting of men of doubtful character and women of whose character there could be no doubt whatever, began pouring in upon the island, for it was said that the buccaneers thought no more of a doubloon than of a Lima bean, so that this was the place for the brothel and the brandy shop to reap their golden harvest, and the island remained French. [Illustration: On the Tortugas _Illustration from_ BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _August and September_, 1887] Hitherto the Tortugans had been content to gain as much as possible from the homeward-bound vessels through the orderly channels of legitimate trade. It was reserved for Pierre le Grand to introduce piracy as a quicker and more easy road to wealth than the semihonest exchange they had been used to practice. Gathering together eight-and-twenty other spirits as hardy and reckless as himself, he put boldly out to sea in a boat hardly large enough to hold his crew, and running down the Windward Channel and out into the Caribbean Sea, he lay in wait for such a prize as might be worth the risks of winning. For a while their luck was steadily against them; their provisions and water began to fail, and they saw nothing before them but starvation or a humiliating return. In this extremity they sighted a Spanish ship belonging to a "flota" which had become separated from her consorts. The boat in which the buccaneers sailed might, perhaps, have served for the great ship's longboat; the Spaniards outnumbered them three to one, and Pierre and his men were armed only with pistols and cutlasses; nevertheless this was their one and their only chance, and they determined to take the Spanish ship or to die in the attempt. Down upon the Spaniard they bore through the dusk of the night, and giving orders to the "chirurgeon" to scuttle their craft under them as they were leaving it, they swarmed up the side of the unsuspecting ship and upon its decks in a torrent--pistol in one hand and cutlass in the other. A part of them ran to the gun room and secured the arms and ammunition, pistoling or cutting down all such as stood in their way or offered opposition; the other party burst into the great cabin at the heels of Pierre le Grand, found the captain and a party of his friends at cards, set a pistol to his breast, and demanded him to deliver up the ship. Nothing remained for the Spaniard but to yield, for there was no alternative between surrender and death. And so the great prize was won. It was not long before the news of this great exploit and of the vast treasure gained reached the ears of the buccaneers of Tortuga and Hispaniola. Then what a hubbub and an uproar and a tumult there was! Hunting wild cattle and buccanning the meat was at a discount, and the one and only thing to do was to go a-pirating; for where one such prize had been won, others were to be had. In a short time freebooting assumed all of the routine of a regular business. Articles were drawn up betwixt captain and crew, compacts were sealed, and agreements entered into by the one party and the other. In all professions there are those who make their mark, those who succeed only moderately well, and those who fail more or less entirely. Nor did pirating differ from this general rule, for in it were men who rose to distinction, men whose names, something tarnished and rusted by the lapse of years, have come down even to us of the present day. Pierre François, who, with his boatload of six-and-twenty desperadoes, ran boldly into the midst of the pearl fleet off the coast of South America, attacked the vice admiral under the very guns of two men-of-war, captured his ship, though she was armed with eight guns and manned with threescore men, and would have got her safely away, only that having to put on sail, their main-mast went by the board, whereupon the men-of-war came up with them, and the prize was lost. But even though there were two men-of-war against all that remained of six-and-twenty buccaneers, the Spaniards were glad enough to make terms with them for the surrender of the vessel, whereby Pierre François and his men came off scot-free. Bartholomew Portuguese was a worthy of even more note. In a boat manned with thirty fellow adventurers he fell upon a great ship off Cape Corrientes, manned with threescore and ten men, all told. Her he assaulted again and again, beaten off with the very pressure of numbers only to renew the assault, until the Spaniards who survived, some fifty in all, surrendered to twenty living pirates, who poured upon their decks like a score of blood-stained, powder-grimed devils. They lost their vessel by recapture, and Bartholomew Portuguese barely escaped with his life through a series of almost unbelievable adventures. But no sooner had he fairly escaped from the clutches of the Spaniards than, gathering together another band of adventurers, he fell upon the very same vessel in the gloom of the night, recaptured her when she rode at anchor in the harbor of Campeche under the guns of the fort, slipped the cable, and was away without the loss of a single man. He lost her in a hurricane soon afterward, just off the Isle of Pines; but the deed was none the less daring for all that. Another notable no less famous than these two worthies was Roch Braziliano, the truculent Dutchman who came up from the coast of Brazil to the Spanish Main with a name ready-made for him. Upon the very first adventure which he undertook he captured a plate ship of fabulous value, and brought her safely into Jamaica; and when at last captured by the Spaniards, he fairly frightened them into letting him go by truculent threats of vengeance from his followers. Such were three of the pirate buccaneers who infested the Spanish Main. There were hundreds no less desperate, no less reckless, no less insatiate in their lust for plunder, than they. The effects of this freebooting soon became apparent. The risks to be assumed by the owners of vessels and the shippers of merchandise became so enormous that Spanish commerce was practically swept away from these waters. No vessel dared to venture out of port excepting under escort of powerful men-of-war, and even then they were not always secure from molestation. Exports from Central and South America were sent to Europe by way of the Strait of Magellan, and little or none went through the passes between the Bahamas and the Caribbees. So at last "buccaneering," as it had come to be generically called, ceased to pay the vast dividends that it had done at first. The cream was skimmed off, and only very thin milk was left in the dish. Fabulous fortunes were no longer earned in a ten days' cruise, but what money was won hardly paid for the risks of the winning. There must be a new departure, or buccaneering would cease to exist. Then arose one who showed the buccaneers a new way to squeeze money out of the Spaniards. This man was an Englishman--Lewis Scot. The stoppage of commerce on the Spanish Main had naturally tended to accumulate all the wealth gathered and produced into the chief fortified cities and towns of the West Indies. As there no longer existed prizes upon the sea, they must be gained upon the land, if they were to be gained at all. Lewis Scot was the first to appreciate this fact. Gathering together a large and powerful body of men as hungry for plunder and as desperate as himself, he descended upon the town of Campeche, which he captured and sacked, stripping it of everything that could possibly be carried away. When the town was cleared to the bare walls Scot threatened to set the torch to every house in the place if it was not ransomed by a large sum of money which he demanded. With this booty he set sail for Tortuga, where he arrived safely--and the problem was solved. After him came one Mansvelt, a buccaneer of lesser note, who first made a descent upon the isle of Saint Catharine, now Old Providence, which he took, and, with this as a base, made an unsuccessful descent upon Neuva Granada and Cartagena. His name might not have been handed down to us along with others of greater fame had he not been the master of that most apt of pupils, the great Captain Henry Morgan, most famous of all the buccaneers, one time governor of Jamaica, and knighted by King Charles II. [Illustration: Capture of the Galleon _Illustration from_ BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _August and September_, 1887] After Mansvelt followed the bold John Davis, native of Jamaica, where he sucked in the lust of piracy with his mother's milk. With only fourscore men, he swooped down upon the great city of Nicaragua in the darkness of the night, silenced the sentry with the thrust of a knife, and then fell to pillaging the churches and houses "without any respect or veneration." Of course it was but a short time until the whole town was in an uproar of alarm, and there was nothing left for the little handful of men to do but to make the best of their way to their boats. They were in the town but a short time, but in that time they were able to gather together and to carry away money and jewels to the value of fifty thousand pieces of eight, besides dragging off with them a dozen or more notable prisoners, whom they held for ransom. And now one appeared upon the scene who reached a far greater height than any had arisen to before. This was François l'Olonoise, who sacked the great city of Maracaibo and the town of Gibraltar. Cold, unimpassioned, pitiless, his sluggish blood was never moved by one single pulse of human warmth, his icy heart was never touched by one ray of mercy or one spark of pity for the hapless wretches who chanced to fall into his bloody hands. Against him the governor of Havana sent out a great war vessel, and with it a negro executioner, so that there might be no inconvenient delays of law after the pirates had been captured. But l'Olonoise did not wait for the coming of the war vessel; he went out to meet it, and he found it where it lay riding at anchor in the mouth of the river Estra. At the dawn of the morning he made his attack--sharp, unexpected, decisive. In a little while the Spaniards were forced below the hatches, and the vessel was taken. Then came the end. One by one the poor shrieking wretches were dragged up from below, and one by one they were butchered in cold blood, while l'Olonoise stood upon the poop deck and looked coldly down upon what was being done. Among the rest the negro was dragged upon the deck. He begged and implored that his life might be spared, promising to tell all that might be asked of him. L'Olonoise questioned him, and when he had squeezed him dry, waved his hand coldly, and the poor black went with the rest. Only one man was spared; him he sent to the governor of Havana with a message that henceforth he would give no quarter to any Spaniard whom he might meet in arms--a message which was not an empty threat. The rise of l'Olonoise was by no means rapid. He worked his way up by dint of hard labor and through much ill fortune. But by and by, after many reverses, the tide turned, and carried him with it from one success to another, without let or stay, to the bitter end. Cruising off Maracaibo, he captured a rich prize laden with a vast amount of plate and ready money, and there conceived the design of descending upon the powerful town of Maracaibo itself. Without loss of time he gathered together five hundred picked scoundrels from Tortuga, and taking with him one Michael de Basco as land captain, and two hundred more buccaneers whom he commanded, down he came into the Gulf of Venezuela and upon the doomed city like a blast of the plague. Leaving their vessels, the buccaneers made a land attack upon the fort that stood at the mouth of the inlet that led into Lake Maracaibo and guarded the city. The Spaniards held out well, and fought with all the might that Spaniards possess; but after a fight of three hours all was given up and the garrison fled, spreading terror and confusion before them. As many of the inhabitants of the city as could do so escaped in boats to Gibraltar, which lies to the southward, on the shores of Lake Maracaibo, at the distance of some forty leagues or more. Then the pirates marched into the town, and what followed may be conceived. It was a holocaust of lust, of passion, and of blood such as even the Spanish West Indies had never seen before. Houses and churches were sacked until nothing was left but the bare walls; men and women were tortured to compel them to disclose where more treasure lay hidden. Then, having wrenched all that they could from Maracaibo, they entered the lake and descended upon Gibraltar, where the rest of the panic-stricken inhabitants were huddled together in a blind terror. The governor of Merida, a brave soldier who had served his king in Flanders, had gathered together a troop of eight hundred men, had fortified the town, and now lay in wait for the coming of the pirates. The pirates came all in good time, and then, in spite of the brave defense, Gibraltar also fell. Then followed a repetition of the scenes that had been enacted in Maracaibo for the past fifteen days, only here they remained for four horrible weeks, extorting money--money! ever money!--from the poor poverty-stricken, pest-ridden souls crowded into that fever hole of a town. Then they left, but before they went they demanded still more money--ten thousand pieces of eight--as a ransom for the town, which otherwise should be given to the flames. There was some hesitation on the part of the Spaniards, some disposition to haggle, but there was no hesitation on the part of l'Olonoise. The torch was set to the town as he had promised, whereupon the money was promptly paid, and the pirates were piteously begged to help quench the spreading flames. This they were pleased to do, but in spite of all their efforts nearly half of the town was consumed. After that they returned to Maracaibo again, where they demanded a ransom of thirty thousand pieces of eight for the city. There was no haggling here, thanks to the fate of Gibraltar; only it was utterly impossible to raise that much money in all of the poverty-stricken region. But at last the matter was compromised, and the town was redeemed for twenty thousand pieces of eight and five hundred head of cattle, and tortured Maracaibo was quit of them. In the Ile de la Vache the buccaneers shared among themselves two hundred and sixty thousand pieces of eight, besides jewels and bales of silk and linen and miscellaneous plunder to a vast amount. Such was the one great deed of l'Olonoise; from that time his star steadily declined--for even nature seemed fighting against such a monster--until at last he died a miserable, nameless death at the hands of an unknown tribe of Indians upon the Isthmus of Darien. * * * * * And now we come to the greatest of all the buccaneers, he who stands pre-eminent among them, and whose name even to this day is a charm to call up his deeds of daring, his dauntless courage, his truculent cruelty, and his insatiate and unappeasable lust for gold--Capt. Henry Morgan, the bold Welshman, who brought buccaneering to the height and flower of its glory. Having sold himself, after the manner of the times, for his passage across the seas, he worked out his time of servitude at the Barbados. As soon as he had regained his liberty he entered upon the trade of piracy, wherein he soon reached a position of considerable prominence. He was associated with Mansvelt at the time of the latter's descent upon Saint Catharine's Isle, the importance of which spot, as a center of operations against the neighboring coasts, Morgan never lost sight of. The first attempt that Capt. Henry Morgan ever made against any town in the Spanish Indies was the bold descent upon the city of Puerto del Principe in the island of Cuba, with a mere handful of men. It was a deed the boldness of which has never been outdone by any of a like nature--not even the famous attack upon Panama itself. Thence they returned to their boats in the very face of the whole island of Cuba, aroused and determined upon their extermination. Not only did they make good their escape, but they brought away with them a vast amount of plunder, computed at three hundred thousand pieces of eight, besides five hundred head of cattle and many prisoners held for ransom. [Illustration: Henry Morgan Recruiting for the Attack _Illustration from_ BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _August and September_, 1887] But when the division of all this wealth came to be made, lo! there were only fifty thousand pieces of eight to be found. What had become of the rest no man could tell but Capt. Henry Morgan himself. Honesty among thieves was never an axiom with him. Rude, truculent, and dishonest as Captain Morgan was, he seems to have had a wonderful power of persuading the wild buccaneers under him to submit everything to his judgment, and to rely entirely upon his word. In spite of the vast sum of money that he had very evidently made away with, recruits poured in upon him, until his band was larger and better equipped than ever. And now it was determined that the plunder harvest was ripe at Porto Bello, and that city's doom was sealed. The town was defended by two strong castles thoroughly manned, and officered by as gallant a soldier as ever carried Toledo steel at his side. But strong castles and gallant soldiers weighed not a barleycorn with the buccaneers when their blood was stirred by the lust of gold. Landing at Puerto Naso, a town some ten leagues westward of Porto Bello, they marched to the latter town, and coming before the castle, boldly demanded its surrender. It was refused, whereupon Morgan threatened that no quarter should be given. Still surrender was refused; and then the castle was attacked, and after a bitter struggle was captured. Morgan was as good as his word: every man in the castle was shut in the guard room, the match was set to the powder magazine, and soldiers, castle, and all were blown into the air, while through all the smoke and the dust the buccaneers poured into the town. Still the governor held out in the other castle, and might have made good his defense, but that he was betrayed by the soldiers under him. Into the castle poured the howling buccaneers. But still the governor fought on, with his wife and daughter clinging to his knees and beseeching him to surrender, and the blood from his wounded forehead trickling down over his white collar, until a merciful bullet put an end to the vain struggle. Here were enacted the old scenes. Everything plundered that could be taken, and then a ransom set upon the town itself. This time an honest, or an apparently honest, division was made of the spoils, which amounted to two hundred and fifty thousand pieces of eight, besides merchandise and jewels. The next towns to suffer were poor Maracaibo and Gibraltar, now just beginning to recover from the desolation wrought by l'Olonoise. Once more both towns were plundered of every bale of merchandise and of every piaster, and once more both were ransomed until everything was squeezed from the wretched inhabitants. Here affairs were like to have taken a turn, for when Captain Morgan came up from Gibraltar he found three great men-of-war lying in the entrance to the lake awaiting his coming. Seeing that he was hemmed in in the narrow sheet of water, Captain Morgan was inclined to compromise matters, even offering to relinquish all the plunder he had gained if he were allowed to depart in peace. But no; the Spanish admiral would hear nothing of this. Having the pirates, as he thought, securely in his grasp, he would relinquish nothing, but would sweep them from the face of the sea once and forever. That was an unlucky determination for the Spaniards to reach, for instead of paralyzing the pirates with fear, as he expected it would do, it simply turned their mad courage into as mad desperation. A great vessel that they had taken with the town of Maracaibo was converted into a fire ship, manned with logs of wood in montera caps and sailor jackets, and filled with brimstone, pitch, and palm leaves soaked in oil. Then out of the lake the pirates sailed to meet the Spaniards, the fire ship leading the way, and bearing down directly upon the admiral's vessel. At the helm stood volunteers, the most desperate and the bravest of all the pirate gang, and at the ports stood the logs of wood in montera caps. So they came up with the admiral, and grappled with his ship in spite of the thunder of all his great guns, and then the Spaniard saw, all too late, what his opponent really was. [Illustration: Morgan at Porto Bello _Illustration from_ MORGAN _by_ E. C. Stedman _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _December, 1888_] He tried to swing loose, but clouds of smoke and almost instantly a mass of roaring flames enveloped both vessels, and the admiral was lost. The second vessel, not wishing to wait for the coming of the pirates, bore down upon the fort, under the guns of which the cowardly crew sank her, and made the best of their way to the shore. The third vessel, not having an opportunity to escape, was taken by the pirates without the slightest resistance, and the passage from the lake was cleared. So the buccaneers sailed away, leaving Maracaibo and Gibraltar prostrate a second time. And now Captain Morgan determined to undertake another venture, the like of which had never been equaled in all of the annals of buccaneering. This was nothing less than the descent upon and the capture of Panama, which was, next to Cartagena, perhaps, the most powerful and the most strongly fortified city in the West Indies. In preparation for this venture he obtained letters of marque from the governor of Jamaica, by virtue of which elastic commission he began immediately to gather around him all material necessary for the undertaking. When it became known abroad that the great Captain Morgan was about undertaking an adventure that was to eclipse all that was ever done before, great numbers came flocking to his standard, until he had gathered together an army of two thousand or more desperadoes and pirates wherewith to prosecute his adventure, albeit the venture itself was kept a total secret from everyone. Port Couillon, in the island of Hispaniola, over against the Ile de la Vache, was the place of muster, and thither the motley band gathered from all quarters. Provisions had been plundered from the mainland wherever they could be obtained, and by the 24th of October, 1670 (O. S.), everything was in readiness. The island of Saint Catharine, as it may be remembered, was at one time captured by Mansvelt, Morgan's master in his trade of piracy. It had been retaken by the Spaniards, and was now thoroughly fortified by them. Almost the first attempt that Morgan had made as a master pirate was the retaking of Saint Catharine's Isle. In that undertaking he had failed; but now, as there was an absolute need of some such place as a base of operations, he determined that the place _must_ be taken. And it was taken. The Spaniards, during the time of their possession, had fortified it most thoroughly and completely, and had the governor thereof been as brave as he who met his death in the castle of Porto Bello, there might have been a different tale to tell. As it was, he surrendered it in a most cowardly fashion, merely stipulating that there should be a sham attack by the buccaneers, whereby his credit might be saved. And so Saint Catharine was won. The next step to be taken was the capture of the castle of Chagres, which guarded the mouth of the river of that name, up which river the buccaneers would be compelled to transport their troops and provisions for the attack upon the city of Panama. This adventure was undertaken by four hundred picked men under command of Captain Morgan himself. The castle of Chagres, known as San Lorenzo by the Spaniards, stood upon the top of an abrupt rock at the mouth of the river, and was one of the strongest fortresses for its size in all of the West Indies. This stronghold Morgan must have if he ever hoped to win Panama. The attack of the castle and the defense of it were equally fierce, bloody, and desperate. Again and again the buccaneers assaulted, and again and again they were beaten back. So the morning came, and it seemed as though the pirates had been baffled this time. But just at this juncture the thatch of palm leaves on the roofs of some of the buildings inside the fortifications took fire, a conflagration followed, which caused the explosion of one of the magazines, and in the paralysis of terror that followed, the pirates forced their way into the fortifications, and the castle was won. Most of the Spaniards flung themselves from the castle walls into the river or upon the rocks beneath, preferring death to capture and possible torture; many who were left were put to the sword, and some few were spared and held as prisoners. So fell the castle of Chagres, and nothing now lay between the buccaneers and the city of Panama but the intervening and trackless forests. And now the name of the town whose doom was sealed was no secret. Up the river of Chagres went Capt. Henry Morgan and twelve hundred men, packed closely in their canoes; they never stopped, saving now and then to rest their stiffened legs, until they had come to a place known as Cruz de San Juan Gallego, where they were compelled to leave their boats on account of the shallowness of the water. Leaving a guard of one hundred and sixty men to protect their boats as a place of refuge in case they should be worsted before Panama, they turned and plunged into the wilderness before them. There a more powerful foe awaited them than a host of Spaniards with match, powder, and lead--starvation. They met but little or no opposition in their progress; but wherever they turned they found every fiber of meat, every grain of maize, every ounce of bread or meal, swept away or destroyed utterly before them. Even when the buccaneers had successfully overcome an ambuscade or an attack, and had sent the Spaniards flying, the fugitives took the time to strip their dead comrades of every grain of food in their leathern sacks, leaving nothing but the empty bags. Says the narrator of these events, himself one of the expedition, "They afterward fell to eating those leathern bags, as affording something to the ferment of their stomachs." Ten days they struggled through this bitter privation, doggedly forcing their way onward, faint with hunger and haggard with weakness and fever. Then, from the high hill and over the tops of the forest trees, they saw the steeples of Panama, and nothing remained between them and their goal but the fighting of four Spaniards to every one of them--a simple thing which they had done over and over again. Down they poured upon Panama, and out came the Spaniards to meet them; four hundred horse, two thousand five hundred foot, and two thousand wild bulls which had been herded together to be driven over the buccaneers so that their ranks might be disordered and broken. The buccaneers were only eight hundred strong; the others had either fallen in battle or had dropped along the dreary pathway through the wilderness; but in the space of two hours the Spaniards were flying madly over the plain, minus six hundred who lay dead or dying behind them. As for the bulls, as many of them as were shot served as food there and then for the half-famished pirates, for the buccaneers were never more at home than in the slaughter of cattle. Then they marched toward the city. Three hours' more fighting and they were in the streets, howling, yelling, plundering, gorging, dram-drinking, and giving full vent to all the vile and nameless lusts that burned in their hearts like a hell of fire. And now followed the usual sequence of events--rapine, cruelty, and extortion; only this time there was no town to ransom, for Morgan had given orders that it should be destroyed. The torch was set to it, and Panama, one of the greatest cities in the New World, was swept from the face of the earth. Why the deed was done, no man but Morgan could tell. Perhaps it was that all the secret hiding places for treasure might be brought to light; but whatever the reason was, it lay hidden in the breast of the great buccaneer himself. For three weeks Morgan and his men abode in this dreadful place; and they marched away with _one hundred and seventy-five_ beasts of burden loaded with treasures of gold and silver and jewels, besides great quantities of merchandise, and six hundred prisoners held for ransom. [Illustration: The Sacking of Panama _Illustration from_ BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _August and September, 1887_] Whatever became of all that vast wealth, and what it amounted to, no man but Morgan ever knew, for when a division was made it was found that there was only _two hundred pieces of eight to each man_. When this dividend was declared, a howl of execration went up, under which even Capt. Henry Morgan quailed. At night he and four other commanders slipped their cables and ran out to sea, and it was said that these divided the greater part of the booty among themselves. But the wealth plundered at Panama could hardly have fallen short of a million and a half of dollars. Computing it at this reasonable figure, the various prizes won by Henry Morgan in the West Indies would stand as follows: Panama, $1,500,000; Porto Bello, $800,000; Puerto del Principe, $700,000; Maracaibo and Gibraltar, $400,000; various piracies, $250,000--making a grand total of $3,650,000 as the vast harvest of plunder. With this fabulous wealth, wrenched from the Spaniards by means of the rack and the cord, and pilfered from his companions by the meanest of thieving, Capt. Henry Morgan retired from business, honored of all, rendered famous by his deeds, knighted by the good King Charles II, and finally appointed governor of the rich island of Jamaica. Other buccaneers followed him. Campeche was taken and sacked, and even Cartagena itself fell; but with Henry Morgan culminated the glory of the buccaneers, and from that time they declined in power and wealth and wickedness until they were finally swept away. The buccaneers became bolder and bolder. In fact, so daring were their crimes that the home governments, stirred at last by these outrageous barbarities, seriously undertook the suppression of the freebooters, lopping and trimming the main trunk until its members were scattered hither and thither, and it was thought that the organization was exterminated. But, so far from being exterminated, the individual members were merely scattered north, south, east, and west, each forming a nucleus around which gathered and clustered the very worst of the offscouring of humanity. The result was that when the seventeenth century was fairly packed away with its lavender in the store chest of the past, a score or more bands of freebooters were cruising along the Atlantic seaboard in armed vessels, each with a black flag with its skull and crossbones at the fore, and with a nondescript crew made up of the tags and remnants of civilized and semicivilized humanity (white, black, red, and yellow), known generally as marooners, swarming upon the decks below. Nor did these offshoots from the old buccaneer stem confine their depredations to the American seas alone; the East Indies and the African coast also witnessed their doings, and suffered from them, and even the Bay of Biscay had good cause to remember more than one visit from them. Worthy sprigs from so worthy a stem improved variously upon the parent methods; for while the buccaneers were content to prey upon the Spaniards alone, the marooners reaped the harvest from the commerce of all nations. So up and down the Atlantic seaboard they cruised, and for the fifty years that marooning was in the flower of its glory it was a sorrowful time for the coasters of New England, the middle provinces, and the Virginias, sailing to the West Indies with their cargoes of salt fish, grain, and tobacco. Trading became almost as dangerous as privateering, and sea captains were chosen as much for their knowledge of the flintlock and the cutlass as for their seamanship. As by far the largest part of the trading in American waters was conducted by these Yankee coasters, so by far the heaviest blows, and those most keenly felt, fell upon them. Bulletin after bulletin came to port with its doleful tale of this vessel burned or that vessel scuttled, this one held by the pirates for their own use or that one stripped of its goods and sent into port as empty as an eggshell from which the yolk had been sucked. Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Charleston suffered alike, and worthy ship owners had to leave off counting their losses upon their fingers and take to the slate to keep the dismal record. "Maroon--to put ashore on a desert isle, as a sailor, under pretense of having committed some great crime." Thus our good Noah Webster gives us the dry bones, the anatomy, upon which the imagination may construct a specimen to suit itself. It is thence that the marooners took their name, for marooning was one of their most effective instruments of punishment or revenge. If a pirate broke one of the many rules which governed the particular band to which he belonged, he was marooned; did a captain defend his ship to such a degree as to be unpleasant to the pirates attacking it, he was marooned; even the pirate captain himself, if he displeased his followers by the severity of his rule, was in danger of having the same punishment visited upon him which he had perhaps more than once visited upon another. The process of marooning was as simple as terrible. A suitable place was chosen (generally some desert isle as far removed as possible from the pathway of commerce), and the condemned man was rowed from the ship to the beach. Out he was bundled upon the sand spit; a gun, a half dozen bullets, a few pinches of powder, and a bottle of water were chucked ashore after him, and away rowed the boat's crew back to the ship, leaving the poor wretch alone to rave away his life in madness, or to sit sunken in his gloomy despair till death mercifully released him from torment. It rarely if ever happened that anything was known of him after having been marooned. A boat's crew from some vessel, sailing by chance that way, might perhaps find a few chalky bones bleaching upon the white sand in the garish glare of the sunlight, but that was all. And such were marooners. By far the largest number of pirate captains were Englishmen, for, from the days of good Queen Bess, English sea captains seemed to have a natural turn for any species of venture that had a smack of piracy in it, and from the great Admiral Drake of the old, old days, to the truculent Morgan of buccaneering times, the Englishman did the boldest and wickedest deeds, and wrought the most damage. First of all upon the list of pirates stands the bold Captain Avary, one of the institutors of marooning. Him we see but dimly, half hidden by the glamouring mists of legends and tradition. Others who came afterward outstripped him far enough in their doings, but he stands pre-eminent as the first of marooners of whom actual history has been handed down to us of the present day. When the English, Dutch, and Spanish entered into an alliance to suppress buccaneering in the West Indies, certain worthies of Bristol, in old England, fitted out two vessels to assist in this laudable project; for doubtless Bristol trade suffered smartly from the Morgans and the l'Olonoises of that old time. One of these vessels was named the _Duke_, of which a certain Captain Gibson was the commander and Avary the mate. Away they sailed to the West Indies, and there Avary became impressed by the advantages offered by piracy, and by the amount of good things that were to be gained by very little striving. One night the captain (who was one of those fellows mightily addicted to punch), instead of going ashore to saturate himself with rum at the ordinary, had his drink in his cabin in private. While he lay snoring away the effects of his rum in the cabin, Avary and a few other conspirators heaved the anchor very leisurely, and sailed out of the harbor of Corunna, and through the midst of the allied fleet riding at anchor in the darkness. By and by, when the morning came, the captain was awakened by the pitching and tossing of the vessel, the rattle and clatter of the tackle overhead, and the noise of footsteps passing and repassing hither and thither across the deck. Perhaps he lay for a while turning the matter over and over in his muddled head, but he presently rang the bell, and Avary and another fellow answered the call. "What's the matter?" bawls the captain from his berth. "Nothing," says Avary, coolly. "Something's the matter with the ship," says the captain. "Does she drive? What weather is it?" "Oh no," says Avary; "we are at sea." "At sea?" "Come, come!" says Avary: "I'll tell you; you must know that I'm the captain of the ship now, and you must be packing from this here cabin. We are bound to Madagascar, to make all of our fortunes, and if you're a mind to ship for the cruise, why, we'll be glad to have you, if you will be sober and mind your own business; if not, there is a boat alongside, and I'll have you set ashore." The poor half-tipsy captain had no relish to go a-pirating under the command of his backsliding mate, so out of the ship he bundled, and away he rowed with four or five of the crew, who, like him, refused to join with their jolly shipmates. The rest of them sailed away to the East Indies, to try their fortunes in those waters, for our Captain Avary was of a high spirit, and had no mind to fritter away his time in the West Indies, squeezed dry by buccaneer Morgan and others of lesser note. No, he would make a bold stroke for it at once, and make or lose at a single cast. On his way he picked up a couple of like kind with himself--two sloops off Madagascar. With these he sailed away to the coast of India, and for a time his name was lost in the obscurity of uncertain history. But only for a time, for suddenly it flamed out in a blaze of glory. It was reported that a vessel belonging to the Great Mogul, laden with treasure and bearing the monarch's own daughter upon a holy pilgrimage to Mecca (they being Mohammedans), had fallen in with the pirates, and after a short resistance had been surrendered, with the damsel, her court, and all the diamonds, pearls, silk, silver, and gold aboard. It was rumored that the Great Mogul, raging at the insult offered to him through his own flesh and blood, had threatened to wipe out of existence the few English settlements scattered along the coast; whereat the honorable East India Company was in a pretty state of fuss and feathers. Rumor, growing with the telling, has it that Avary is going to marry the Indian princess, willy-nilly, and will turn rajah, and eschew piracy as indecent. As for the treasure itself, there was no end to the extent to which it grew as it passed from mouth to mouth. Cracking the nut of romance and exaggeration, we come to the kernel of the story--that Avary did fall in with an Indian vessel laden with great treasure (and possibly with the Mogul's daughter), which he captured, and thereby gained a vast prize. Having concluded that he had earned enough money by the trade he had undertaken, he determined to retire and live decently for the rest of his life upon what he already had. As a step toward this object, he set about cheating his Madagascar partners out of their share of what had been gained. He persuaded them to store all the treasure in his vessel, it being the largest of the three; and so, having it safely in hand, he altered the course of his ship one fine night, and when the morning came the Madagascar sloops found themselves floating upon a wide ocean without a farthing of the treasure for which they had fought so hard, and for which they might whistle for all the good it would do them. [Illustration: Marooned _Illustration from_ BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _August and September, 1887_] At first Avary had a great part of a mind to settle at Boston, in Massachusetts, and had that little town been one whit less bleak and forbidding, it might have had the honor of being the home of this famous man. As it was, he did not like the looks of it, so he sailed away to the eastward, to Ireland, where he settled himself at Biddeford, in hopes of an easy life of it for the rest of his days. Here he found himself the possessor of a plentiful stock of jewels, such as pearls, diamonds, rubies, etc., but with hardly a score of honest farthings to jingle in his breeches pocket. He consulted with a certain merchant of Bristol concerning the disposal of the stones--a fellow not much more cleanly in his habits of honesty than Avary himself. This worthy undertook to act as Avary's broker. Off he marched with the jewels, and that was the last that the pirate saw of his Indian treasure. Perhaps the most famous of all the piratical names to American ears are those of Capt. Robert Kidd and Capt. Edward Teach, or "Blackbeard." Nothing will be ventured in regard to Kidd at this time, nor in regard to the pros and cons as to whether he really was or was not a pirate, after all. For many years he was the very hero of heroes of piratical fame; there was hardly a creek or stream or point of land along our coast, hardly a convenient bit of good sandy beach, or hump of rock, or water-washed cave, where fabulous treasures were not said to have been hidden by this worthy marooner. Now we are assured that he never was a pirate, and never did bury any treasure, excepting a certain chest, which he was compelled to hide upon Gardiner's Island--and perhaps even it was mythical. So poor Kidd must be relegated to the dull ranks of simply respectable people, or semirespectable people at best. But with "Blackbeard" it is different, for in him we have a real, ranting, raging, roaring pirate _per se_--one who really did bury treasure, who made more than one captain walk the plank, and who committed more private murders than he could number on the fingers of both hands; one who fills, and will continue to fill, the place to which he has been assigned for generations, and who may be depended upon to hold his place in the confidence of others for generations to come. Captain Teach was a Bristol man born, and learned his trade on board of sundry privateers in the East Indies during the old French war--that of 1702--and a better apprenticeship could no man serve. At last, somewhere about the latter part of the year 1716, a privateering captain, one Benjamin Hornigold, raised him from the ranks and put him in command of a sloop--a lately captured prize--and Blackbeard's fortune was made. It was a very slight step, and but the change of a few letters, to convert "privateer" into "pirate," and it was a very short time before Teach made that change. Not only did he make it himself, but he persuaded his old captain to join with him. And now fairly began that series of bold and lawless depredations which have made his name so justly famous, and which placed him among the very greatest of marooning freebooters. "Our hero," says the old historian who sings of the arms and bravery of this great man--"our hero assumed the cognomen of Blackbeard from that large quantity of hair which, like a frightful meteor, covered his whole face, and frightened America more than any comet that appeared there in a long time. He was accustomed to twist it with ribbons into small tails, after the manner of our Ramillies wig, and turn them about his ears. In time of action he wore a sling over his shoulders, with three brace of pistols, hanging in holsters like bandoleers; he stuck lighted matches under his hat, which, appearing on each side of his face, and his eyes naturally looking fierce and wild, made him altogether such a figure that imagination cannot form an idea of a Fury from hell to look more frightful." The night before the day of the action in which he was killed he sat up drinking with some congenial company until broad daylight. One of them asked him if his poor young wife knew where his treasure was hidden. "No," says Blackbeard; "nobody but the devil and I knows where it is, and the longest liver shall have all." As for that poor young wife of his, the life that he and his rum-crazy shipmates led her was too terrible to be told. For a time Blackbeard worked at his trade down on the Spanish Main, gathering, in the few years he was there, a very neat little fortune in the booty captured from sundry vessels; but by and by he took it into his head to try his luck along the coast of the Carolinas; so off he sailed to the northward, with quite a respectable little fleet, consisting of his own vessel and two captured sloops. From that time he was actively engaged in the making of American history in his small way. He first appeared off the bar of Charleston Harbor, to the no small excitement of the worthy town of that ilk, and there he lay for five or six days, blockading the port, and stopping incoming and outgoing vessels at his pleasure, so that, for the time, the commerce of the province was entirely paralyzed. All the vessels so stopped he held as prizes, and all the crews and passengers (among the latter of whom was more than one provincial worthy of the day) he retained as though they were prisoners of war. And it was a mightily awkward thing for the good folk of Charleston to behold day after day a black flag with its white skull and crossbones fluttering at the fore of the pirate captain's craft, over across the level stretch of green salt marshes; and it was mightily unpleasant, too, to know that this or that prominent citizen was crowded down with the other prisoners under the hatches. One morning Captain Blackbeard finds that his stock of medicine is low. "Tut!" says he, "we'll turn no hair gray for that." So up he calls the bold Captain Richards, the commander of his consort the _Revenge_ sloop, and bids him take Mr. Marks (one of his prisoners), and go up to Charleston and get the medicine. There was no task that suited our Captain Richards better than that. Up to the town he rowed, as bold as brass. "Look ye," says he to the governor, rolling his quid of tobacco from one cheek to another--"look ye, we're after this and that, and if we don't get it, why, I'll tell you plain, we'll burn them bloody crafts of yours that we've took over yonder, and cut the weasand of every clodpoll aboard of 'em." There was no answering an argument of such force as this, and the worshipful governor and the good folk of Charleston knew very well that Blackbeard and his crew were the men to do as they promised. So Blackbeard got his medicine, and though it cost the colony two thousand dollars, it was worth that much to the town to be quit of him. They say that while Captain Richards was conducting his negotiations with the governor his boat's crew were stumping around the streets of the town, having a glorious time of it, while the good folk glowered wrathfully at them, but dared venture nothing in speech or act. Having gained a booty of between seven and eight thousand dollars from the prizes captured, the pirates sailed away from Charleston Harbor to the coast of North Carolina. And now Blackbeard, following the plan adopted by so many others of his kind, began to cudgel his brains for means to cheat his fellows out of their share of the booty. At Topsail Inlet he ran his own vessel aground, as though by accident. Hands, the captain of one of the consorts, pretending to come to his assistance, also grounded _his_ sloop. Nothing now remained but for those who were able to get away in the other craft, which was all that was now left of the little fleet. This did Blackbeard with some forty of his favorites. The rest of the pirates were left on the sand spit to await the return of their companions--which never happened. As for Blackbeard and those who were with him, they were that much richer, for there were so many the fewer pockets to fill. But even yet there were too many to share the booty, in Blackbeard's opinion, and so he marooned a parcel more of them--some eighteen or twenty--upon a naked sand bank, from which they were afterward mercifully rescued by another freebooter who chanced that way--a certain Major Stede Bonnet, of whom more will presently be said. About that time a royal proclamation had been issued offering pardon to all pirates in arms who would surrender to the king's authority before a given date. So up goes Master Blackbeard to the Governor of North Carolina and makes his neck safe by surrendering to the proclamation--albeit he kept tight clutch upon what he had already gained. And now we find our bold Captain Blackbeard established in the good province of North Carolina, where he and His Worship the Governor struck up a vast deal of intimacy, as profitable as it was pleasant. There is something very pretty in the thought of the bold sea rover giving up his adventurous life (excepting now and then an excursion against a trader or two in the neighboring sound, when the need of money was pressing); settling quietly down into the routine of old colonial life, with a young wife of sixteen at his side, who made the fourteenth that he had in various ports here and there in the world. Becoming tired of an inactive life, Blackbeard afterward resumed his piratical career. He cruised around in the rivers and inlets and sounds of North Carolina for a while, ruling the roost and with never a one to say him nay, until there was no bearing with such a pest any longer. So they sent a deputation up to the Governor of Virginia asking if he would be pleased to help them in their trouble. There were two men-of-war lying at Kicquetan, in the James River, at the time. To them the Governor of Virginia applies, and plucky Lieutenant Maynard, of the _Pearl_, was sent to Ocracoke Inlet to fight this pirate who ruled it down there so like the cock of a walk. There he found Blackbeard waiting for him, and as ready for a fight as ever the lieutenant himself could be. Fight they did, and while it lasted it was as pretty a piece of business of its kind as one could wish to see. Blackbeard drained a glass of grog, wishing the lieutenant luck in getting aboard of him, fired a broadside, blew some twenty of the lieutenant's men out of existence, and totally crippled one of his little sloops for the balance of the fight. After that, and under cover of the smoke, the pirate and his men boarded the other sloop, and then followed a fine old-fashioned hand-to-hand conflict betwixt him and the lieutenant. First they fired their pistols, and then they took to it with cutlasses--right, left, up and down, cut and slash--until the lieutenant's cutlass broke short off at the hilt. Then Blackbeard would have finished him off handsomely, only up steps one of the lieutenant's men and fetches him a great slash over the neck, so that the lieutenant came off with no more hurt than a cut across the knuckles. At the very first discharge of their pistols Blackbeard had been shot through the body, but he was not for giving up for that--not he. As said before, he was of the true roaring, raging breed of pirates, and stood up to it until he received twenty more cutlass cuts and five additional shots, and then fell dead while trying to fire off an empty pistol. After that the lieutenant cut off the pirate's head, and sailed away in triumph, with the bloody trophy nailed to the bow of his battered sloop. Those of Blackbeard's men who were not killed were carried off to Virginia, and all of them tried and hanged but one or two, their names, no doubt, still standing in a row in the provincial records. But did Blackbeard really bury treasures, as tradition says, along the sandy shores he haunted? [Illustration: Blackbeard Buries His Treasure _Illustration from_ BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _August and September, 1887_] Master Clement Downing, midshipman aboard the _Salisbury_, wrote a book after his return from the cruise to Madagascar, whither the _Salisbury_ had been ordered, to put an end to the piracy with which those waters were infested. He says: "At Guzarat I met with a Portuguese named Anthony de Sylvestre; he came with two other Portuguese and two Dutchmen to take on in the Moor's service, as many Europeans do. This Anthony told me he had been among the pirates, and that he belonged to one of the sloops in Virginia when Blackbeard was taken. He informed me that if it should be my lot ever to go to York River or Maryland, near an island called Mulberry Island, provided we went on shore at the watering place, where the shipping used most commonly to ride, that there the pirates had buried considerable sums of money in great chests well clamped with iron plates. As to my part, I never was that way, nor much acquainted with any that ever used those parts; but I have made inquiry, and am informed that there is such a place as Mulberry Island. If any person who uses those parts should think it worth while to dig a little way at the upper end of a small cove, where it is convenient to land, he would soon find whether the information I had was well grounded. Fronting the landing place are five trees, among which, he said, the money was hid. I cannot warrant the truth of this account; but if I was ever to go there, I should find some means or other to satisfy myself, as it could not be a great deal out of my way. If anybody should obtain the benefit of this account, if it please God that they ever come to England, 'tis hoped they will remember whence they had this information." Another worthy was Capt. Edward Low, who learned his trade of sail-making at good old Boston town, and piracy at Honduras. No one stood higher in the trade than he, and no one mounted to more lofty altitudes of bloodthirsty and unscrupulous wickedness. 'Tis strange that so little has been written and sung of this man of might, for he was as worthy of story and of song as was Blackbeard. It was under a Yankee captain that he made his first cruise--down to Honduras, for a cargo of logwood, which in those times was no better than stolen from the Spanish folk. One day, lying off the shore, in the Gulf of Honduras, comes Master Low and the crew of the whaleboat rowing across from the beach, where they had been all morning chopping logwood. "What are you after?" says the captain, for they were coming back with nothing but themselves in the boat. "We're after our dinner," says Low, as spokesman of the party. "You'll have no dinner," says the captain, "until you fetch off another load." "Dinner or no dinner, we'll pay for it," says Low, wherewith he up with a musket, squinted along the barrel, and pulled the trigger. Luckily the gun hung fire, and the Yankee captain was spared to steal logwood a while longer. All the same, that was no place for Ned Low to make a longer stay, so off he and his messmates rowed in a whaleboat, captured a brig out at sea, and turned pirates. He presently fell in with the notorious Captain Lowther, a fellow after his own kidney, who put the finishing touches to his education and taught him what wickedness he did not already know. And so he became a master pirate, and a famous hand at his craft, and thereafter forever bore an inveterate hatred of all Yankees because of the dinner he had lost, and never failed to smite whatever one of them luck put within his reach. Once he fell in with a ship off South Carolina--the _Amsterdam Merchant_, Captain Williamson, commander--a Yankee craft and a Yankee master. He slit the nose and cropped the ears of the captain, and then sailed merrily away, feeling the better for having marred a Yankee. New York and New England had more than one visit from the doughty captain, each of which visits they had good cause to remember, for he made them smart for it. Along in the year 1722 thirteen vessels were riding at anchor in front of the good town of Marblehead. Into the harbor sailed a strange craft. "Who is she?" say the townsfolk, for the coming of a new vessel was no small matter in those days. Who the strangers were was not long a matter of doubt. Up goes the black flag, and the skull and crossbones to the fore. "'Tis the bloody Low," say one and all; and straightway all was flutter and commotion, as in a duck pond when a hawk pitches and strikes in the midst. It was a glorious thing for our captain, for here were thirteen Yankee crafts at one and the same time. So he took what he wanted, and then sailed away, and it was many a day before Marblehead forgot that visit. Some time after this he and his consort fell foul of an English sloop of war, the _Greyhound_, whereby they were so roughly handled that Low was glad enough to slip away, leaving his consort and her crew behind him, as a sop to the powers of law and order. And lucky for them if no worse fate awaited them than to walk the dreadful plank with a bandage around the blinded eyes and a rope around the elbows. So the consort was taken, and the crew tried and hanged in chains, and Low sailed off in as pretty a bit of rage as ever a pirate fell into. The end of this worthy is lost in the fogs of the past: some say that he died of a yellow fever down in New Orleans; it was not at the end of a hempen cord, more's the pity. Here fittingly with our strictly American pirates should stand Major Stede Bonnet along with the rest. But in truth he was only a poor half-and-half fellow of his kind, and even after his hand was fairly turned to the business he had undertaken, a qualm of conscience would now and then come across him, and he would make vast promises to forswear his evil courses. However, he jogged along in his course of piracy snugly enough until he fell foul of the gallant Colonel Rhett, off Charleston Harbor, whereupon his luck and his courage both were suddenly snuffed out with a puff of powder smoke and a good rattling broadside. Down came the "Black Roger" with its skull and crossbones from the fore, and Colonel Rhett had the glory of fetching back as pretty a cargo of scoundrels and cutthroats as the town ever saw. After the next assizes they were strung up, all in a row--evil apples ready for the roasting. "Ned" England was a fellow of different blood--only he snapped his whip across the back of society over in the East Indies and along the hot shores of Hindustan. The name of Capt. Howel Davis stands high among his fellows. He was the Ulysses of pirates, the beloved not only of Mercury, but of Minerva. He it was who hoodwinked the captain of a French ship of double the size and strength of his own, and fairly cheated him into the surrender of his craft without the firing of a single pistol or the striking of a single blow; he it was who sailed boldly into the port of Gambia, on the coast of Guinea, and under the guns of the castle, proclaiming himself as a merchant trading for slaves. The cheat was kept up until the fruit of mischief was ripe for the picking; then, when the governor and the guards of the castle were lulled into entire security, and when Davis's band was scattered about wherever each man could do the most good, it was out pistol, up cutlass, and death if a finger moved. They tied the soldiers back to back, and the governor to his own armchair, and then rifled wherever it pleased them. After that they sailed away, and though they had not made the fortune they had hoped to glean, it was a good snug round sum that they shared among them. [Illustration: Walking the Plank _Illustration from_ BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _August and September, 1887_] Their courage growing high with success, they determined to attempt the island of Del Principe--a prosperous Portuguese settlement on the coast. The plan for taking the place was cleverly laid, and would have succeeded, only that a Portuguese negro among the pirate crew turned traitor and carried the news ashore to the governor of the fort. Accordingly, the next day, when Captain Davis came ashore, he found there a good strong guard drawn up as though to honor his coming. But after he and those with him were fairly out of their boat, and well away from the water side, there was a sudden rattle of musketry, a cloud of smoke, and a dull groan or two. Only one man ran out from under that pungent cloud, jumped into the boat, and rowed away; and when it lifted, there lay Captain Davis and his companions all of a heap, like a pile of old clothes. Capt. Bartholomew Roberts was the particular and especial pupil of Davis, and when that worthy met his death so suddenly and so unexpectedly in the unfortunate manner above narrated, he was chosen unanimously as the captain of the fleet, and he was a worthy pupil of a worthy master. Many were the poor fluttering merchant ducks that this sea hawk swooped upon and struck; and cleanly and cleverly were they plucked before his savage clutch loosened its hold upon them. "He made a gallant figure," says the old narrator, "being dressed in a rich crimson waistcoat and breeches and red feather in his hat, a gold chain around his neck, with a diamond cross hanging to it, a sword in his hand, and two pair of pistols hanging at the end of a silk sling flung over his shoulders according to the fashion of the pyrates." Thus he appeared in the last engagement which he fought--that with the _Swallow_--a royal sloop of war. A gallant fight they made of it, those bulldog pirates, for, finding themselves caught in a trap betwixt the man-of-war and the shore, they determined to bear down upon the king's vessel, fire a slapping broadside into her, and then try to get away, trusting to luck in the doing, and hoping that their enemy might be crippled by their fire. Captain Roberts himself was the first to fall at the return fire of the _Swallow_; a grapeshot struck him in the neck, and he fell forward across the gun near to which he was standing at the time. A certain fellow named Stevenson, who was at the helm, saw him fall, and thought he was wounded. At the lifting of the arm the body rolled over upon the deck, and the man saw that the captain was dead. "Whereupon," says the old history, "he" [Stevenson] "gushed into tears, and wished that the next shot might be his portion." After their captain's death the pirate crew had no stomach for more fighting; the "Black Roger" was struck, and one and all surrendered to justice and the gallows. * * * * * Such is a brief and bald account of the most famous of these pirates. But they are only a few of a long list of notables, such as Captain Martel, Capt. Charles Vane (who led the gallant Colonel Rhett, of South Carolina, such a wild-goose chase in and out among the sluggish creeks and inlets along the coast), Capt. John Rackam, and Captain Anstis, Captain Worley, and Evans, and Philips, and others--a score or more of wild fellows whose very names made ship captains tremble in their shoes in those good old times. And such is that black chapter of history of the past--an evil chapter, lurid with cruelty and suffering, stained with blood and smoke. Yet it is a written chapter, and it must be read. He who chooses may read betwixt the lines of history this great truth: Evil itself is an instrument toward the shaping of good. Therefore the history of evil as well as the history of good should be read, considered, and digested. Chapter II THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND [Illustration] It is not so easy to tell why discredit should be cast upon a man because of something that his grandfather may have done amiss, but the world, which is never overnice in its discrimination as to where to lay the blame, is often pleased to make the innocent suffer in the place of the guilty. Barnaby True was a good, honest, biddable lad, as boys go, but yet he was not ever allowed altogether to forget that his grandfather had been that very famous pirate, Capt. William Brand, who, after so many marvelous adventures (if one may believe the catchpenny stories and ballads that were written about him), was murdered in Jamaica by Capt. John Malyoe, the commander of his own consort, the _Adventure_ galley. It has never been denied, that ever I heard, that up to the time of Captain Brand's being commissioned against the South Sea pirates he had always been esteemed as honest, reputable a sea captain as could be. When he started out upon that adventure it was with a ship, the _Royal Sovereign_, fitted out by some of the most decent merchants of New York. The governor himself had subscribed to the adventure, and had himself signed Captain Brand's commission. So, if the unfortunate man went astray, he must have had great temptation to do so, many others behaving no better when the opportunity offered in those far-away seas where so many rich purchases might very easily be taken and no one the wiser. To be sure, those stories and ballads made our captain to be a most wicked, profane wretch; and if he were, why, God knows he suffered and paid for it, for he laid his bones in Jamaica, and never saw his home or his wife and daughter again after he had sailed away on the _Royal Sovereign_ on that long misfortunate voyage, leaving them in New York to the care of strangers. At the time when he met his fate in Port Royal Harbor he had obtained two vessels under his command--the _Royal Sovereign_, which was the boat fitted out for him in New York, and the _Adventure_ galley, which he was said to have taken somewhere in the South Seas. With these he lay in those waters of Jamaica for over a month after his return from the coasts of Africa, waiting for news from home, which, when it came, was of the very blackest; for the colonial authorities were at that time stirred up very hot against him to take him and hang him for a pirate, so as to clear their own skirts for having to do with such a fellow. So maybe it seemed better to our captain to hide his ill-gotten treasure there in those far-away parts, and afterward to try and bargain with it for his life when he should reach New York, rather than to sail straight for the Americas with what he had earned by his piracies, and so risk losing life and money both. [Illustration: "Captain Malyoe Shot Captain Brand Through the Head" _Illustration from_ THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published in_ HARPER'S WEEKLY, _December 19, 1896_] However that might be, the story was that Captain Brand and his gunner, and Captain Malyoe of the _Adventure_ and the sailing master of the _Adventure_ all went ashore together with a chest of money (no one of them choosing to trust the other three in so nice an affair), and buried the treasure somewhere on the beach of Port Royal Harbor. The story then has it that they fell a-quarreling about a future division of the money, and that, as a wind-up to the affair, Captain Malyoe shot Captain Brand through the head, while the sailing master of the _Adventure_ served the gunner of the _Royal Sovereign_ after the same fashion through the body, and that the murderers then went away, leaving the two stretched out in their own blood on the sand in the staring sun, with no one to know where the money was hid but they two who had served their comrades so. It is a mighty great pity that anyone should have a grandfather who ended his days in such a sort as this, but it was no fault of Barnaby True's, nor could he have done anything to prevent it, seeing that he was not even born into the world at the time that his grandfather turned pirate, and was only one year old when he so met his tragical end. Nevertheless, the boys with whom he went to school never tired of calling him "Pirate," and would sometimes sing for his benefit that famous catchpenny song beginning thus: Oh, my name was Captain Brand, A-sailing, And a-sailing; Oh, my name was Captain Brand, A-sailing free. Oh, my name was Captain Brand, And I sinned by sea and land, For I broke God's just command, A-sailing free. 'Twas a vile thing to sing at the grandson of so misfortunate a man, and oftentimes little Barnaby True would double up his fists and would fight his tormentors at great odds, and would sometimes go back home with a bloody nose to have his poor mother cry over him and grieve for him. Not that his days were all of teasing and torment, neither; for if his comrades did treat him so, why, then, there were other times when he and they were as great friends as could be, and would go in swimming together where there was a bit of sandy strand along the East River above Fort George, and that in the most amicable fashion. Or, maybe the very next day after he had fought so with his fellows, he would go a-rambling with them up the Bowerie Road, perhaps to help them steal cherries from some old Dutch farmer, forgetting in such adventure what a thief his own grandfather had been. Well, when Barnaby True was between sixteen and seventeen years old he was taken into employment in the countinghouse of Mr. Roger Hartright, the well-known West India merchant, and Barnaby's own stepfather. It was the kindness of this good man that not only found a place for Barnaby in the countinghouse, but advanced him so fast that against our hero was twenty-one years old he had made four voyages as supercargo to the West Indies in Mr. Hartright's ship, the _Belle Helen_, and soon after he was twenty-one undertook a fifth. Nor was it in any such subordinate position as mere supercargo that he acted, but rather as the confidential agent of Mr. Hartright, who, having no children of his own, was very jealous to advance our hero into a position of trust and responsibility in the countinghouse, as though he were indeed a son, so that even the captain of the ship had scarcely more consideration aboard than he, young as he was in years. As for the agents and correspondents of Mr. Hartright throughout these parts, they also, knowing how the good man had adopted his interests, were very polite and obliging to Master Barnaby--especially, be it mentioned, Mr. Ambrose Greenfield, of Kingston, Jamaica, who, upon the occasions of his visits to those parts, did all that he could to make Barnaby's stay in that town agreeable and pleasant to him. So much for the history of our hero to the time of the beginning of this story, without which you shall hardly be able to understand the purport of those most extraordinary adventures that befell him shortly after he came of age, nor the logic of their consequence after they had occurred. For it was during his fifth voyage to the West Indies that the first of those extraordinary adventures happened of which I shall have presently to tell. At that time he had been in Kingston for the best part of four weeks, lodging at the house of a very decent, respectable widow, by name Mrs. Anne Bolles, who, with three pleasant and agreeable daughters, kept a very clean and well-served lodging house in the outskirts of the town. One morning, as our hero sat sipping his coffee, clad only in loose cotton drawers, a shirt, and a jacket, and with slippers upon his feet, as is the custom in that country, where everyone endeavors to keep as cool as may be--while he sat thus sipping his coffee Miss Eliza, the youngest of the three daughters, came and gave him a note, which, she said, a stranger had just handed in at the door, going away again without waiting for a reply. You may judge of Barnaby's surprise when he opened the note and read as follows: MR. BARNABY TRUE. SIR,--Though you don't know me, I know you, and I tell you this: if you will be at Pratt's Ordinary on Harbor Street on Friday next at eight o'clock of the evening, and will accompany the man who shall say to you, "The _Royal Sovereign_ is come in," you shall learn something the most to your advantage that ever befell you. Sir, keep this note, and show it to him who shall address these words to you, so to certify that you are the man he seeks. Such was the wording of the note, which was without address, and without any superscription whatever. The first emotion that stirred Barnaby was one of extreme and profound amazement. Then the thought came into his mind that some witty fellow, of whom he knew a good many in that town--and wild, waggish pranks they were--was attempting to play off some smart jest upon him. But all that Miss Eliza could tell him when he questioned her concerning the messenger was that the bearer of the note was a tall, stout man, with a red neckerchief around his neck and copper buckles to his shoes, and that he had the appearance of a sailorman, having a great big queue hanging down his back. But, Lord! what was such a description as that in a busy seaport town, full of scores of men to fit such a likeness? Accordingly, our hero put away the note into his wallet, determining to show it to his good friend Mr. Greenfield that evening, and to ask his advice upon it. So he did show it, and that gentleman's opinion was the same as his--that some wag was minded to play off a hoax upon him, and that the matter of the letter was all nothing but smoke. Nevertheless, though Barnaby was thus confirmed in his opinion as to the nature of the communication he had received, he yet determined in his own mind that he would see the business through to the end, and would be at Pratt's Ordinary, as the note demanded, upon the day and at the time specified therein. Pratt's Ordinary was at that time a very fine and well-known place of its sort, with good tobacco and the best rum that ever I tasted, and had a garden behind it that, sloping down to the harbor front, was planted pretty thick with palms and ferns grouped into clusters with flowers and plants. Here were a number of little tables, some in little grottoes, like our Vauxhall in New York, and with red and blue and white paper lanterns hung among the foliage, whither gentlemen and ladies used sometimes to go of an evening to sit and drink lime juice and sugar and water (and sometimes a taste of something stronger), and to look out across the water at the shipping in the cool of the night. Thither, accordingly, our hero went, a little before the time appointed in the note, and passing directly through the Ordinary and the garden beyond, chose a table at the lower end of the garden and close to the water's edge, where he would not be easily seen by anyone coming into the place. Then, ordering some rum and water and a pipe of tobacco, he composed himself to watch for the appearance of those witty fellows whom he suspected would presently come thither to see the end of their prank and to enjoy his confusion. The spot was pleasant enough; for the land breeze, blowing strong and full, set the leaves of the palm tree above his head to rattling and clattering continually against the sky, where, the moon then being about full, they shone every now and then like blades of steel. The waves also were splashing up against the little landing place at the foot of the garden, sounding very cool in the night, and sparkling all over the harbor where the moon caught the edges of the water. A great many vessels were lying at anchor in their ridings, with the dark, prodigious form of a man-of-war looming up above them in the moonlight. There our hero sat for the best part of an hour, smoking his pipe of tobacco and sipping his grog, and seeing not so much as a single thing that might concern the note he had received. It was not far from half an hour after the time appointed in the note, when a rowboat came suddenly out of the night and pulled up to the landing place at the foot of the garden above mentioned, and three or four men came ashore in the darkness. Without saying a word among themselves they chose a near-by table and, sitting down, ordered rum and water, and began drinking their grog in silence. They might have sat there about five minutes, when, by and by, Barnaby True became aware that they were observing him very curiously; and then almost immediately one, who was plainly the leader of the party, called out to him: "How now, messmate! Won't you come and drink a dram of rum with us?" "Why, no," says Barnaby, answering very civilly; "I have drunk enough already, and more would only heat my blood." "All the same," quoth the stranger, "I think you will come and drink with us; for, unless I am mistook, you are Mr. Barnaby True, and I am come here to tell you that the _Royal Sovereign is come in_." Now I may honestly say that Barnaby True was never more struck aback in all his life than he was at hearing these words uttered in so unexpected a manner. He had been looking to hear them under such different circumstances that, now that his ears heard them addressed to him, and that so seriously, by a perfect stranger, who, with others, had thus mysteriously come ashore out of the darkness, he could scarce believe that his ears heard aright. His heart suddenly began beating at a tremendous rate, and had he been an older and wiser man, I do believe he would have declined the adventure, instead of leaping blindly, as he did, into that of which he could see neither the beginning nor the ending. But being barely one-and-twenty years of age, and having an adventurous disposition that would have carried him into almost anything that possessed a smack of uncertainty or danger about it, he contrived to say, in a pretty easy tone (though God knows how it was put on for the occasion): "Well, then, if that be so, and if the _Royal Sovereign_ is indeed come in, why, I'll join you, since you are so kind as to ask me." And therewith he went across to the other table, carrying his pipe with him, and sat down and began smoking, with all the appearance of ease he could assume upon the occasion. "Well, Mr. Barnaby True," said the man who had before addressed him, so soon as Barnaby had settled himself, speaking in a low tone of voice, so there would be no danger of any others hearing the words--"Well, Mr. Barnaby True--for I shall call you by your name, to show you that though I know you, you don't know me--I am glad to see that you are man enough to enter thus into an affair, though you can't see to the bottom of it. For it shows me that you are a man of mettle, and are deserving of the fortune that is to befall you to-night. Nevertheless, first of all, I am bid to say that you must show me a piece of paper that you have about you before we go a step farther." "Very well," said Barnaby; "I have it here safe and sound, and see it you shall." And thereupon and without more ado he fetched out his wallet, opened it, and handed his interlocutor the mysterious note he had received the day or two before. Whereupon the other, drawing to him the candle, burning there for the convenience of those who would smoke tobacco, began immediately reading it. This gave Barnaby True a moment or two to look at him. He was a tall, stout man, with a red handkerchief tied around his neck, and with copper buckles on his shoes, so that Barnaby True could not but wonder whether he was not the very same man who had given the note to Miss Eliza Bolles at the door of his lodging house. "'Tis all right and straight as it should be," the other said, after he had so glanced his eyes over the note. "And now that the paper is read" (suiting his action to his words), "I'll just burn it, for safety's sake." And so he did, twisting it up and setting it to the flame of the candle. "And now," he said, continuing his address, "I'll tell you what I am here for. I was sent to ask you if you're man enough to take your life in your own hands and to go with me in that boat down there? Say 'Yes,' and we'll start away without wasting more time, for the devil is ashore here at Jamaica--though you don't know what that means--and if he gets ahead of us, why, then we may whistle for what we are after. Say 'No,' and I go away again, and I promise you you shall never be troubled again in this sort. So now speak up plain, young gentleman, and tell us what is your mind in this business, and whether you will adventure any farther or not." If our hero hesitated it was not for long. I cannot say that his courage did not waver for a moment; but if it did, it was, I say, not for long, and when he spoke up it was with a voice as steady as could be. "To be sure I'm man enough to go with you," he said; "and if you mean me any harm I can look out for myself; and if I can't, why, here is something can look out for me," and therewith he lifted up the flap of his coat pocket and showed the butt of a pistol he had fetched with him when he had set out from his lodging house that evening. At this the other burst out a-laughing. "Come," says he, "you are indeed of right mettle, and I like your spirit. All the same, no one in all the world means you less ill than I, and so, if you have to use that barker, 'twill not be upon us who are your friends, but only upon one who is more wicked than the devil himself. So come, and let us get away." Thereupon he and the others, who had not spoken a single word for all this time, rose from the table, and he having paid the scores of all, they all went down together to the boat that still lay at the landing place at the bottom of the garden. Thus coming to it, our hero could see that it was a large yawl boat manned with half a score of black men for rowers, and there were two lanterns in the stern sheets, and three or four iron shovels. The man who had conducted the conversation with Barnaby True for all this time, and who was, as has been said, plainly the captain of the party, stepped immediately down into the boat; our hero followed, and the others followed after him; and instantly they were seated the boat was shoved off and the black men began pulling straight out into the harbor, and so, at some distance away, around under the stern of the man-of-war. Not a word was spoken after they had thus left the shore, and presently they might all have been ghosts, for the silence of the party. Barnaby True was too full of his own thoughts to talk--and serious enough thoughts they were by this time, with crimps to trepan a man at every turn, and press gangs to carry a man off so that he might never be heard of again. As for the others, they did not seem to choose to say anything now that they had him fairly embarked upon their enterprise. And so the crew pulled on in perfect silence for the best part of an hour, the leader of the expedition directing the course of the boat straight across the harbor, as though toward the mouth of the Rio Cobra River. Indeed, this was their destination, as Barnaby could after a while see, by the low point of land with a great long row of coconut palms upon it (the appearance of which he knew very well), which by and by began to loom up out of the milky dimness of the moonlight. As they approached the river they found the tide was running strong out of it, so that some distance away from the stream it gurgled and rippled alongside the boat as the crew of black men pulled strongly against it. Thus they came up under what was either a point of land or an islet covered with a thick growth of mangrove trees. But still no one spoke a single word as to their destination, or what was the business they had in hand. The night, now that they were close to the shore, was loud with the noise of running tide-water, and the air was heavy with the smell of mud and marsh, and over all the whiteness of the moonlight, with a few stars pricking out here and there in the sky; and all so strange and silent and mysterious that Barnaby could not divest himself of the feeling that it was all a dream. So, the rowers bending to the oars, the boat came slowly around from under the clump of mangrove bushes and out into the open water again. Instantly it did so the leader of the expedition called out in a sharp voice, and the black men instantly lay on their oars. Almost at the same instant Barnaby True became aware that there was another boat coming down the river toward where they lay, now drifting with the strong tide out into the harbor again, and he knew that it was because of the approach of that boat that the other had called upon his men to cease rowing. The other boat, as well as he could see in the distance, was full of men, some of whom appeared to be armed, for even in the dusk of the darkness the shine of the moonlight glimmered sharply now and then on the barrels of muskets or pistols, and in the silence that followed after their own rowing had ceased Barnaby True could hear the chug! chug! of the oars sounding louder and louder through the watery stillness of the night as the boat drew nearer and nearer. But he knew nothing of what it all meant, nor whether these others were friends or enemies, or what was to happen next. The oarsmen of the approaching boat did not for a moment cease their rowing, not till they had come pretty close to Barnaby and his companions. Then a man who sat in the stern ordered them to cease rowing, and as they lay on their oars he stood up. As they passed by, Barnaby True could see him very plain, the moonlight shining full upon him--a large, stout gentleman with a round red face, and clad in a fine laced coat of red cloth. Amidship of the boat was a box or chest about the bigness of a middle-sized traveling trunk, but covered all over with cakes of sand and dirt. In the act of passing, the gentleman, still standing, pointed at it with an elegant gold-headed cane which he held in his hand. "Are you come after this, Abraham Dawling?" says he, and thereat his countenance broke into as evil, malignant a grin as ever Barnaby True saw in all of his life. The other did not immediately reply so much as a single word, but sat as still as any stone. Then, at last, the other boat having gone by, he suddenly appeared to regain his wits, for he bawled out after it, "Very well, Jack Malyoe! Very well, Jack Malyoe! you've got ahead of us this time again, but next time is the third, and then it shall be our turn, even if William Brand must come back from hell to settle with you." This he shouted out as the other boat passed farther and farther away, but to it my fine gentleman made no reply except to burst out into a great roaring fit of laughter. There was another man among the armed men in the stern of the passing boat--a villainous, lean man with lantern jaws, and the top of his head as bald as the palm of my hand. As the boat went away into the night with the tide and the headway the oars had given it, he grinned so that the moonlight shone white on his big teeth. Then, flourishing a great big pistol, he said, and Barnaby could hear every word he spoke, "Do but give me the word, Your Honor, and I'll put another bullet through the son of a sea cook." But the gentleman said some words to forbid him, and therewith the boat was gone away into the night, and presently Barnaby could hear that the men at the oars had begun rowing again, leaving them lying there, without a single word being said for a long time. By and by one of those in Barnaby's boat spoke up. "Where shall you go now?" he said. At this the leader of the expedition appeared suddenly to come back to himself, and to find his voice again. "Go?" he roared out. "Go to the devil! Go? Go where you choose! Go? Go back again--that's where we'll go!" and therewith he fell a-cursing and swearing until he foamed at the lips, as though he had gone clean crazy, while the black men began rowing back again across the harbor as fast as ever they could lay oars into the water. They put Barnaby True ashore below the old custom house; but so bewildered and shaken was he by all that had happened, and by what he had seen, and by the names that he heard spoken, that he was scarcely conscious of any of the familiar things among which he found himself thus standing. And so he walked up the moonlit street toward his lodging like one drunk or bewildered; for "John Malyoe" was the name of the captain of the _Adventure_ galley--he who had shot Barnaby's own grandfather--and "Abraham Dawling" was the name of the gunner of the _Royal Sovereign_ who had been shot at the same time with the pirate captain, and who, with him, had been left stretched out in the staring sun by the murderers. The whole business had occupied hardly two hours, but it was as though that time was no part of Barnaby's life, but all a part of some other life, so dark and strange and mysterious that it in no wise belonged to him. As for that box covered all over with mud, he could only guess at that time what it contained and what the finding of it signified. But of this our hero said nothing to anyone, nor did he tell a single living soul what he had seen that night, but nursed it in his own mind, where it lay so big for a while that he could think of little or nothing else for days after. Mr. Greenfield, Mr. Hartright's correspondent and agent in these parts, lived in a fine brick house just out of the town, on the Mona Road, his family consisting of a wife and two daughters--brisk, lively young ladies with black hair and eyes, and very fine bright teeth that shone whenever they laughed, and with a plenty to say for themselves. Thither Barnaby True was often asked to a family dinner; and, indeed, it was a pleasant home to visit, and to sit upon the veranda and smoke a cigarro with the good old gentleman and look out toward the mountains, while the young ladies laughed and talked, or played upon the guitar and sang. And oftentimes so it was strongly upon Barnaby's mind to speak to the good gentleman and tell him what he had beheld that night out in the harbor; but always he would think better of it and hold his peace, falling to thinking, and smoking away upon his cigarro at a great rate. A day or two before the _Belle Helen_ sailed from Kingston Mr. Greenfield stopped Barnaby True as he was going through the office to bid him to come to dinner that night (for there within the tropics they breakfast at eleven o'clock and take dinner in the cool of the evening, because of the heat, and not at midday, as we do in more temperate latitudes). "I would have you meet," says Mr. Greenfield, "your chief passenger for New York, and his granddaughter, for whom the state cabin and the two staterooms are to be fitted as here ordered [showing a letter]--Sir John Malyoe and Miss Marjorie Malyoe. Did you ever hear tell of Capt. Jack Malyoe, Master Barnaby?" Now I do believe that Mr. Greenfield had no notion at all that old Captain Brand was Barnaby True's own grandfather and Capt. John Malyoe his murderer, but when he so thrust at him the name of that man, what with that in itself and the late adventure through which he himself had just passed, and with his brooding upon it until it was so prodigiously big in his mind, it was like hitting him a blow to so fling the questions at him. Nevertheless, he was able to reply, with a pretty straight face, that he had heard of Captain Malyoe and who he was. "Well," says Mr. Greenfield, "if Jack Malyoe was a desperate pirate and a wild, reckless blade twenty years ago, why, he is Sir John Malyoe now and the owner of a fine estate in Devonshire. Well, Master Barnaby, when one is a baronet and come into the inheritance of a fine estate (though I do hear it is vastly cumbered with debts), the world will wink its eye to much that he may have done twenty years ago. I do hear say, though, that his own kin still turn the cold shoulder to him." To this address Barnaby answered nothing, but sat smoking away at his cigarro at a great rate. And so that night Barnaby True came face to face for the first time with the man who murdered his own grandfather--the greatest beast of a man that ever he met in all of his life. That time in the harbor he had seen Sir John Malyoe at a distance and in the darkness; now that he beheld him near by it seemed to him that he had never looked at a more evil face in all his life. Not that the man was altogether ugly, for he had a good nose and a fine double chin; but his eyes stood out like balls and were red and watery, and he winked them continually, as though they were always smarting; and his lips were thick and purple-red, and his fat, red cheeks were mottled here and there with little clots of purple veins; and when he spoke his voice rattled so in his throat that it made one wish to clear one's own throat to listen to him. So, what with a pair of fat, white hands, and that hoarse voice, and his swollen face, and his thick lips sticking out, it seemed to Barnaby True he had never seen a countenance so distasteful to him as that one into which he then looked. But if Sir John Malyoe was so displeasing to our hero's taste, why, the granddaughter, even this first time he beheld her, seemed to him to be the most beautiful, lovely young lady that ever he saw. She had a thin, fair skin, red lips, and yellow hair--though it was then powdered pretty white for the occasion--and the bluest eyes that Barnaby beheld in all of his life. A sweet, timid creature, who seemed not to dare so much as to speak a word for herself without looking to Sir John for leave to do so, and would shrink and shudder whenever he would speak of a sudden to her or direct a sudden glance upon her. When she did speak, it was in so low a voice that one had to bend his head to hear her, and even if she smiled would catch herself and look up as though to see if she had leave to be cheerful. As for Sir John, he sat at dinner like a pig, and gobbled and ate and drank, smacking his lips all the while, but with hardly a word to either her or Mrs. Greenfield or to Barnaby True; but with a sour, sullen air, as though he would say, "Your damned victuals and drink are no better than they should be, but I must eat 'em or nothing." A great bloated beast of a man! Only after dinner was over and the young lady and the two misses sat off in a corner together did Barnaby hear her talk with any ease. Then, to be sure, her tongue became loose, and she prattled away at a great rate, though hardly above her breath, until of a sudden her grandfather called out, in his hoarse, rattling voice, that it was time to go. Whereupon she stopped short in what she was saying and jumped up from her chair, looking as frightened as though she had been caught in something amiss, and was to be punished for it. Barnaby True and Mr. Greenfield both went out to see the two into their coach, where Sir John's man stood holding the lantern. And who should he be, to be sure, but that same lean villain with bald head who had offered to shoot the leader of our hero's expedition out on the harbor that night! For, one of the circles of light from the lantern shining up into his face, Barnaby True knew him the moment he clapped eyes upon him. Though he could not have recognized our hero, he grinned at him in the most impudent, familiar fashion, and never so much as touched his hat either to him or to Mr. Greenfield; but as soon as his master and his young mistress had entered the coach, banged to the door and scrambled up on the seat alongside the driver, and so away without a word, but with another impudent grin, this time favoring both Barnaby and the old gentleman. Such were these two, master and man, and what Barnaby saw of them then was only confirmed by further observation--the most hateful couple he ever knew; though, God knows, what they afterward suffered should wipe out all complaint against them. The next day Sir John Malyoe's belongings began to come aboard the _Belle Helen_, and in the afternoon that same lean, villainous manservant comes skipping across the gangplank as nimble as a goat, with two black men behind him lugging a great sea chest. "What!" he cried out, "and so you is the supercargo, is you? Why, I thought you was more account when I saw you last night a-sitting talking with His Honor like his equal. Well, no matter; 'tis something to have a brisk, genteel young fellow for a supercargo. So come, my hearty, lend a hand, will you, and help me set His Honor's cabin to rights." What a speech was this to endure from such a fellow, to be sure! and Barnaby so high in his own esteem, and holding himself a gentleman! Well, what with his distaste for the villain, and what with such odious familiarity, you can guess into what temper so impudent an address must have cast him. "You'll find the steward in yonder," he said, "and he'll show you the cabin," and therewith turned and walked away with prodigious dignity, leaving the other standing where he was. As he entered his own cabin he could not but see, out of the tail of his eye, that the fellow was still standing where he had left him, regarding him with a most evil, malevolent countenance, so that he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had made one enemy during that voyage who was not very likely to forgive or forget what he must regard as a slight put upon him. The next day Sir John Malyoe himself came aboard, accompanied by his granddaughter, and followed by this man, and he followed again by four black men, who carried among them two trunks, not large in size, but prodigious heavy in weight, and toward which Sir John and his follower devoted the utmost solicitude and care to see that they were properly carried into the state cabin he was to occupy. Barnaby True was standing in the great cabin as they passed close by him; but though Sir John Malyoe looked hard at him and straight in the face, he never so much as spoke a single word, or showed by a look or a sign that he knew who our hero was. At this the serving man, who saw it all with eyes as quick as a cat's, fell to grinning and chuckling to see Barnaby in his turn so slighted. The young lady, who also saw it all, flushed up red, then in the instant of passing looked straight at our hero, and bowed and smiled at him with a most sweet and gracious affability, then the next moment recovering herself, as though mightily frightened at what she had done. The same day the _Belle Helen_ sailed, with as beautiful, sweet weather as ever a body could wish for. There were only two other passengers aboard, the Rev. Simon Styles, the master of a flourishing academy in Spanish Town, and his wife, a good, worthy old couple, but very quiet, and would sit in the great cabin by the hour together reading, so that, what with Sir John Malyoe staying all the time in his own cabin with those two trunks he held so precious, it fell upon Barnaby True in great part to show attention to the young lady; and glad enough he was of the opportunity, as anyone may guess. For when you consider a brisk, lively young man of one-and-twenty and a sweet, beautiful miss of seventeen so thrown together day after day for two weeks, the weather being very fair, as I have said, and the ship tossing and bowling along before a fine humming breeze that sent white caps all over the sea, and with nothing to do but sit and look at that blue sea and the bright sky overhead, it is not hard to suppose what was to befall, and what pleasure it was to Barnaby True to show attention to her. But, oh! those days when a man is young, and, whether wisely or no, fallen in love! How often during that voyage did our hero lie awake in his berth at night, tossing this way and that without sleep--not that he wanted to sleep if he could, but would rather lie so awake thinking about her and staring into the darkness! Poor fool! He might have known that the end must come to such a fool's paradise before very long. For who was he to look up to Sir John Malyoe's granddaughter, he, the supercargo of a merchant ship, and she the granddaughter of a baronet. Nevertheless, things went along very smooth and pleasant, until one evening, when all came of a sudden to an end. At that time he and the young lady had been standing for a long while together, leaning over the rail and looking out across the water through the dusk toward the westward, where the sky was still of a lingering brightness. She had been mightily quiet and dull all that evening, but now of a sudden she began, without any preface whatever, to tell Barnaby about herself and her affairs. She said that she and her grandfather were going to New York that they might take passage thence to Boston town, there to meet her cousin Captain Malyoe, who was stationed in garrison at that place. Then she went on to say that Captain Malyoe was the next heir to the Devonshire estate, and that she and he were to be married in the fall. But, poor Barnaby! what a fool was he, to be sure! Methinks when she first began to speak about Captain Malyoe he knew what was coming. But now that she had told him, he could say nothing, but stood there staring across the ocean, his breath coming hot and dry as ashes in his throat. She, poor thing, went on to say, in a very low voice, that she had liked him from the very first moment she had seen him, and had been very happy for these days, and would always think of him as a dear friend who had been very kind to her, who had so little pleasure in life, and so would always remember him. Then they were both silent, until at last Barnaby made shift to say, though in a hoarse and croaking voice, that Captain Malyoe must be a very happy man, and that if he were in Captain Malyoe's place he would be the happiest man in the world. Thus, having spoken, and so found his tongue, he went on to tell her, with his head all in a whirl, that he, too, loved her, and that what she had told him struck him to the heart, and made him the most miserable, unhappy wretch in the whole world. She was not angry at what he said, nor did she turn to look at him, but only said, in a low voice, he should not talk so, for that it could only be a pain to them both to speak of such things, and that whether she would or no, she must do everything as her grandfather bade her, for that he was indeed a terrible man. To this poor Barnaby could only repeat that he loved her with all his heart, that he had hoped for nothing in his love, but that he was now the most miserable man in the world. It was at this moment, so tragic for him, that some one who had been hiding nigh them all the while suddenly moved away, and Barnaby True could see in the gathering darkness that it was that villain manservant of Sir John Malyoe's and knew that he must have overheard all that had been said. The man went straight to the great cabin, and poor Barnaby, his brain all atingle, stood looking after him, feeling that now indeed the last drop of bitterness had been added to his trouble to have such a wretch overhear what he had said. The young lady could not have seen the fellow, for she continued leaning over the rail, and Barnaby True, standing at her side, not moving, but in such a tumult of many passions that he was like one bewildered, and his heart beating as though to smother him. So they stood for I know not how long when, of a sudden, Sir John Malyoe comes running out of the cabin, without his hat, but carrying his gold-headed cane, and so straight across the deck to where Barnaby and the young lady stood, that spying wretch close at his heels, grinning like an imp. "You hussy!" bawled out Sir John, so soon as he had come pretty near them, and in so loud a voice that all on deck might have heard the words; and as he spoke he waved his cane back and forth as though he would have struck the young lady, who, shrinking back almost upon the deck, crouched as though to escape such a blow. "You hussy!" he bawled out with vile oaths, too horrible here to be set down. "What do you do here with this Yankee supercargo, not fit for a gentlewoman to wipe her feet upon? Get to your cabin, you hussy" (only it was something worse he called her this time), "before I lay this cane across your shoulders!" What with the whirling of Barnaby's brains and the passion into which he was already melted, what with his despair and his love, and his anger at this address, a man gone mad could scarcely be less accountable for his actions than was he at that moment. Hardly knowing what he did, he put his hand against Sir John Malyoe's breast and thrust him violently back, crying out upon him in a great, loud, hoarse voice for threatening a young lady, and saying that for a farthing he would wrench the stick out of his hand and throw it overboard. Sir John went staggering back with the push Barnaby gave him, and then caught himself up again. Then, with a great bellow, ran roaring at our hero, whirling his cane about, and I do believe would have struck him (and God knows then what might have happened) had not his manservant caught him and held him back. "Keep back!" cried out our hero, still mighty hoarse. "Keep back! If you strike me with that stick I'll fling you overboard!" By this time, what with the sound of loud voices and the stamping of feet, some of the crew and others aboard were hurrying up, and the next moment Captain Manly and the first mate, Mr. Freesden, came running out of the cabin. But Barnaby, who was by this fairly set agoing, could not now stop himself. "And who are you, anyhow," he cried out, "to threaten to strike me and to insult me, who am as good as you? You dare not strike me! You may shoot a man from behind, as you shot poor Captain Brand on the Rio Cobra River, but you won't dare strike me face to face. I know who you are and what you are!" By this time Sir John Malyoe had ceased to endeavor to strike him, but stood stock-still, his great bulging eyes staring as though they would pop out of his head. "What's all this?" cries Captain Manly, bustling up to them with Mr. Freesden. "What does all this mean?" But, as I have said, our hero was too far gone now to contain himself until all that he had to say was out. "The damned villain insulted me and insulted the young lady," he cried out, panting in the extremity of his passion, "and then he threatened to strike me with his cane. But I know who he is and what he is. I know what he's got in his cabin in those two trunks, and where he found it, and whom it belongs to. He found it on the shores of the Rio Cobra River, and I have only to open my mouth and tell what I know about it." At this Captain Manly clapped his hand upon our hero's shoulder and fell to shaking him so that he could scarcely stand, calling out to him the while to be silent. "What do you mean?" he cried. "An officer of this ship to quarrel with a passenger of mine! Go straight to your cabin, and stay there till I give you leave to come out again." At this Master Barnaby came somewhat back to himself and into his wits again with a jump. "But he threatened to strike me with his cane, Captain," he cried out, "and that I won't stand from any man!" "No matter what he did," said Captain Manly, very sternly. "Go to your cabin, as I bid you, and stay there till I tell you to come out again, and when we get to New York I'll take pains to tell your stepfather of how you have behaved. I'll have no such rioting as this aboard my ship." Barnaby True looked around him, but the young lady was gone. Nor, in the blindness of his frenzy, had he seen when she had gone nor whither she went. As for Sir John Malyoe, he stood in the light of a lantern, his face gone as white as ashes, and I do believe if a look could kill, the dreadful malevolent stare he fixed upon Barnaby True would have slain him where he stood. After Captain Manly had so shaken some wits into poor Barnaby he, unhappy wretch, went to his cabin, as he was bidden to do, and there, shutting the door upon himself, and flinging himself down, all dressed as he was, upon his berth, yielded himself over to the profoundest passion of humiliation and despair. There he lay for I know not how long, staring into the darkness, until by and by, in spite of his suffering and his despair, he dozed off into a loose sleep, that was more like waking than sleep, being possessed continually by the most vivid and distasteful dreams, from which he would awaken only to doze off and to dream again. It was from the midst of one of these extravagant dreams that he was suddenly aroused by the noise of a pistol shot, and then the noise of another and another, and then a great bump and a grinding jar, and then the sound of many footsteps running across the deck and down into the great cabin. Then came a tremendous uproar of voices in the great cabin, the struggling as of men's bodies being tossed about, striking violently against the partitions and bulkheads. At the same instant arose a screaming of women's voices, and one voice, and that Sir John Malyoe's, crying out as in the greatest extremity: "You villains! You damned villains!" and with the sudden detonation of a pistol fired into the close space of the great cabin. Barnaby was out in the middle of his cabin in a moment, and taking only time enough to snatch down one of the pistols that hung at the head of his berth, flung out into the great cabin, to find it as black as night, the lantern slung there having been either blown out or dashed out into darkness. The prodigiously dark space was full of uproar, the hubbub and confusion pierced through and through by that keen sound of women's voices screaming, one in the cabin and the other in the stateroom beyond. Almost immediately Barnaby pitched headlong over two or three struggling men scuffling together upon the deck, falling with a great clatter and the loss of his pistol, which, however, he regained almost immediately. What all the uproar meant he could not tell, but he presently heard Captain Manly's voice from somewhere suddenly calling out, "You bloody pirate, would you choke me to death?" wherewith some notion of what had happened came to him like a flash, and that they had been attacked in the night by pirates. Looking toward the companionway, he saw, outlined against the darkness of the night without, the blacker form of a man's figure, standing still and motionless as a statue in the midst of all this hubbub, and so by some instinct he knew in a moment that that must be the master maker of all this devil's brew. Therewith, still kneeling upon the deck, he covered the bosom of that shadowy figure point-blank, as he thought, with his pistol, and instantly pulled the trigger. In the flash of red light, and in the instant stunning report of the pistol shot, Barnaby saw, as stamped upon the blackness, a broad, flat face with fishy eyes, a lean, bony forehead with what appeared to be a great blotch of blood upon the side, a cocked hat trimmed with gold lace, a red scarf across the breast, and the gleam of brass buttons. Then the darkness, very thick and black, swallowed everything again. But in the instant Sir John Malyoe called out, in a great loud voice: "My God! 'Tis William Brand!" Therewith came the sound of some one falling heavily down. The next moment, Barnaby's sight coming back to him again in the darkness, he beheld that dark and motionless figure still standing exactly where it had stood before, and so knew either that he had missed it or else that it was of so supernatural a sort that a leaden bullet might do it no harm. Though if it was indeed an apparition that Barnaby beheld in that moment, there is this to say, that he saw it as plain as ever he saw a living man in all of his life. This was the last our hero knew, for the next moment somebody--whether by accident or design he never knew--struck him such a terrible violent blow upon the side of the head that he saw forty thousand stars flash before his eyeballs, and then, with a great humming in his head, swooned dead away. When Barnaby True came back to his senses again it was to find himself being cared for with great skill and nicety, his head bathed with cold water, and a bandage being bound about it as carefully as though a chirurgeon was attending to him. He could not immediately recall what had happened to him, nor until he had opened his eyes to find himself in a strange cabin, extremely well fitted and painted with white and gold, the light of a lantern shining in his eyes, together with the gray of the early daylight through the dead-eye. Two men were bending over him--one, a negro in a striped shirt, with a yellow handkerchief around his head and silver earrings in his ears; the other, a white man, clad in a strange outlandish dress of a foreign make, and with great mustachios hanging down, and with gold earrings in his ears. It was the latter who was attending to Barnaby's hurt with such extreme care and gentleness. All this Barnaby saw with his first clear consciousness after his swoon. Then remembering what had befallen him, and his head beating as though it would split asunder, he shut his eyes again, contriving with great effort to keep himself from groaning aloud, and wondering as to what sort of pirates these could be who would first knock a man in the head so terrible a blow as that which he had suffered, and then take such care to fetch him back to life again, and to make him easy and comfortable. Nor did he open his eyes again, but lay there gathering his wits together and wondering thus until the bandage was properly tied about his head and sewed together. Then once more he opened his eyes, and looked up to ask where he was. Either they who were attending to him did not choose to reply, or else they could not speak English, for they made no answer, excepting by signs; for the white man, seeing that he was now able to speak, and so was come back into his senses again, nodded his head three or four times, and smiled with a grin of his white teeth, and then pointed, as though toward a saloon beyond. At the same time the negro held up our hero's coat and beckoned for him to put it on, so that Barnaby, seeing that it was required of him to meet some one without, arose, though with a good deal of effort, and permitted the negro to help him on with his coat, still feeling mightily dizzy and uncertain upon his legs, his head beating fit to split, and the vessel rolling and pitching at a great rate, as though upon a heavy ground swell. So, still sick and dizzy, he went out into what was indeed a fine saloon beyond, painted in white and gilt like the cabin he had just quitted, and fitted in the nicest fashion, a mahogany table, polished very bright, extending the length of the room, and a quantity of bottles, together with glasses of clear crystal, arranged in a hanging rack above. Here at the table a man was sitting with his back to our hero, clad in a rough pea-jacket, and with a red handkerchief tied around his throat, his feet stretched out before him, and he smoking a pipe of tobacco with all the ease and comfort in the world. As Barnaby came in he turned round, and, to the profound astonishment of our hero, presented toward him in the light of the lantern, the dawn shining pretty strong through the skylight, the face of that very man who had conducted the mysterious expedition that night across Kingston Harbor to the Rio Cobra River. This man looked steadily at Barnaby True for a moment or two, and then burst out laughing; and, indeed, Barnaby, standing there with the bandage about his head, must have looked a very droll picture of that astonishment he felt so profoundly at finding who was this pirate into whose hands he had fallen. "Well," says the other, "and so you be up at last, and no great harm done, I'll be bound. And how does your head feel by now, my young master?" To this Barnaby made no reply, but, what with wonder and the dizziness of his head, seated himself at the table over against the speaker, who pushed a bottle of rum toward him, together with a glass from the swinging shelf above. He watched Barnaby fill his glass, and so soon as he had done so began immediately by saying: "I do suppose you think you were treated mightily ill to be so handled last night. Well, so you were treated ill enough--though who hit you that crack upon the head I know no more than a child unborn. Well, I am sorry for the way you were handled, but there is this much to say, and of that you may believe me, that nothing was meant to you but kindness, and before you are through with us all you will believe that well enough." Here he helped himself to a taste of grog, and sucking in his lips, went on again with what he had to say. "Do you remember," said he, "that expedition of ours in Kingston Harbor, and how we were all of us balked that night?" "Why, yes," said Barnaby True, "nor am I likely to forget it." "And do you remember what I said to that villain, Jack Malyoe, that night as his boat went by us?" "As to that," said Barnaby True, "I do not know that I can say yes or no, but if you will tell me, I will maybe answer you in kind." "Why, I mean this," said the other. "I said that the villain had got the better of us once again, but that next time it would be our turn, even if William Brand himself had to come back from hell to put the business through." "I remember something of the sort," said Barnaby, "now that you speak of it, but still I am all in the dark as to what you are driving at." The other looked at him very cunningly for a little while, his head on one side, and his eyes half shut. Then, as if satisfied, he suddenly burst out laughing. "Look hither," said he, "and I'll show you something," and therewith, moving to one side, disclosed a couple of traveling cases or small trunks with brass studs, so exactly like those that Sir John Malyoe had fetched aboard at Jamaica that Barnaby, putting this and that together, knew that they must be the same. Our hero had a strong enough suspicion as to what those two cases contained, and his suspicions had become a certainty when he saw Sir John Malyoe struck all white at being threatened about them, and his face lowering so malevolently as to look murder had he dared do it. But, Lord! what were suspicions or even certainty to what Barnaby True's two eyes beheld when that man lifted the lids of the two cases--the locks thereof having already been forced--and, flinging back first one lid and then the other, displayed to Barnaby's astonished sight a great treasure of gold and silver! Most of it tied up in leathern bags, to be sure, but many of the coins, big and little, yellow and white, lying loose and scattered about like so many beans, brimming the cases to the very top. Barnaby sat dumb-struck at what he beheld; as to whether he breathed or no, I cannot tell; but this I know, that he sat staring at that marvelous treasure like a man in a trance, until, after a few seconds of this golden display, the other banged down the lids again and burst out laughing, whereupon he came back to himself with a jump. "Well, and what do you think of that?" said the other. "Is it not enough for a man to turn pirate for? But," he continued, "it is not for the sake of showing you this that I have been waiting for you here so long a while, but to tell you that you are not the only passenger aboard, but that there is another, whom I am to confide to your care and attention, according to orders I have received; so, if you are ready, Master Barnaby, I'll fetch her in directly." He waited for a moment, as though for Barnaby to speak, but our hero not replying, he arose and, putting away the bottle of rum and the glasses, crossed the saloon to a door like that from which Barnaby had come a little while before. This he opened, and after a moment's delay and a few words spoken to some one within, ushered thence a young lady, who came out very slowly into the saloon where Barnaby still sat at the table. It was Miss Marjorie Malyoe, very white, and looking as though stunned or bewildered by all that had befallen her. Barnaby True could never tell whether the amazing strange voyage that followed was of long or of short duration; whether it occupied three days or ten days. For conceive, if you choose, two people of flesh and blood moving and living continually in all the circumstances and surroundings as of a nightmare dream, yet they two so happy together that all the universe beside was of no moment to them! How was anyone to tell whether in such circumstances any time appeared to be long or short? Does a dream appear to be long or to be short? The vessel in which they sailed was a brigantine of good size and build, but manned by a considerable crew, the most strange and outlandish in their appearance that Barnaby had ever beheld--some white, some yellow, some black, and all tricked out with gay colors, and gold earrings in their ears, and some with great long mustachios, and others with handkerchiefs tied around their heads, and all talking a language together of which Barnaby True could understand not a single word, but which might have been Portuguese from one or two phrases he caught. Nor did this strange, mysterious crew, of God knows what sort of men, seem to pay any attention whatever to Barnaby or to the young lady. They might now and then have looked at him and her out of the corners of their yellow eyes, but that was all; otherwise they were indeed like the creatures of a nightmare dream. Only he who was the captain of this outlandish crew would maybe speak to Barnaby a few words as to the weather or what not when he would come down into the saloon to mix a glass of grog or to light a pipe of tobacco, and then to go on deck again about his business. Otherwise our hero and the young lady were left to themselves, to do as they pleased, with no one to interfere with them. [Illustration: "She Would Sit Quite Still, Permitting Barnaby to Gaze" _Illustration from_ THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published in_ HARPER'S WEEKLY, _December 19, 1896_] As for her, she at no time showed any great sign of terror or of fear, only for a little while was singularly numb and quiet, as though dazed with what had happened to her. Indeed, methinks that wild beast, her grandfather, had so crushed her spirit by his tyranny and his violence that nothing that happened to her might seem sharp and keen, as it does to others of an ordinary sort. But this was only at first, for afterward her face began to grow singularly clear, as with a white light, and she would sit quite still, permitting Barnaby to gaze, I know not how long, into her eyes, her face so transfigured and her lips smiling, and they, as it were, neither of them breathing, but hearing, as in another far-distant place, the outlandish jargon of the crew talking together in the warm, bright sunlight, or the sound of creaking block and tackle as they hauled upon the sheets. Is it, then, any wonder that Barnaby True could never remember whether such a voyage as this was long or short? It was as though they might have sailed so upon that wonderful voyage forever. You may guess how amazed was Barnaby True when, coming upon deck one morning, he found the brigantine riding upon an even keel, at anchor off Staten Island, a small village on the shore, and the well-known roofs and chimneys of New York town in plain sight across the water. 'Twas the last place in the world he had expected to see. And, indeed, it did seem strange to lie there alongside Staten Island all that day, with New York town so nigh at hand and yet so impossible to reach. For whether he desired to escape or no, Barnaby True could not but observe that both he and the young lady were so closely watched that they might as well have been prisoners, tied hand and foot and laid in the hold, so far as any hope of getting away was concerned. All that day there was a deal of mysterious coming and going aboard the brigantine, and in the afternoon a sailboat went up to the town, carrying the captain, and a great load covered over with a tarpaulin in the stern. What was so taken up to the town Barnaby did not then guess, but the boat did not return again till about sundown. For the sun was just dropping below the water when the captain came aboard once more and, finding Barnaby on deck, bade him come down into the saloon, where they found the young lady sitting, the broad light of the evening shining in through the skylight, and making it all pretty bright within. The captain commanded Barnaby to be seated, for he had something of moment to say to him; whereupon, as soon as Barnaby had taken his place alongside the young lady, he began very seriously, with a preface somewhat thus: "Though you may think me the captain of this brigantine, young gentleman, I am not really so, but am under orders, and so have only carried out those orders of a superior in all these things that I have done." Having so begun, he went on to say that there was one thing yet remaining for him to do, and that the greatest thing of all. He said that Barnaby and the young lady had not been fetched away from the _Belle Helen_ as they were by any mere chance of accident, but that 'twas all a plan laid by a head wiser than his, and carried out by one whom he must obey in all things. He said that he hoped that both Barnaby and the young lady would perform willingly what they would be now called upon to do, but that whether they did it willingly or no, they must, for that those were the orders of one who was not to be disobeyed. You may guess how our hero held his breath at all this; but whatever might have been his expectations, the very wildest of them all did not reach to that which was demanded of him. "My orders are these," said the other, continuing: "I am to take you and the young lady ashore, and to see that you are married before I quit you; and to that end a very good, decent, honest minister who lives ashore yonder in the village was chosen and hath been spoken to and is now, no doubt, waiting for you to come. Such are my orders, and this is the last thing I am set to do; so now I will leave you alone together for five minutes to talk it over, but be quick about it, for whether willing or not, this thing must be done." Thereupon he went away, as he had promised, leaving those two alone together, Barnaby like one turned into stone, and the young lady, her face turned away, flaming as red as fire in the fading light. Nor can I tell what Barnaby said to her, nor what words he used, but only, all in a tumult, with neither beginning nor end he told her that God knew he loved her, and that with all his heart and soul, and that there was nothing in all the world for him but her; but, nevertheless, if she would not have it as had been ordered, and if she were not willing to marry him as she was bidden to do, he would rather die than lend himself to forcing her to do such a thing against her will. Nevertheless, he told her she must speak up and tell him yes or no, and that God knew he would give all the world if she would say "yes." All this and more he said in such a tumult of words that there was no order in their speaking, and she sitting there, her bosom rising and falling as though her breath stifled her. Nor may I tell what she replied to him, only this, that she said she would marry him. At this he took her into his arms and set his lips to hers, his heart all melting away in his bosom. So presently came the captain back into the saloon again, to find Barnaby sitting there holding her hand, she with her face turned away, and his heart beating like a trip hammer, and so saw that all was settled as he would have it. Wherewith he wished them both joy, and gave Barnaby his hand. The yawlboat belonging to the brigantine was ready and waiting alongside when they came upon deck, and immediately they descended to it and took their seats. So they landed, and in a little while were walking up the village street in the darkness, she clinging to his arm as though she would swoon, and the captain of the brigantine and two other men from aboard following after them. And so to the minister's house, finding him waiting for them, smoking his pipe in the warm evening, and walking up and down in front of his own door. He immediately conducted them into the house, where, his wife having fetched a candle, and two others of the village folk being present, the good man having asked several questions as to their names and their age and where they were from, the ceremony was performed, and the certificate duly signed by those present--excepting the men who had come ashore from the brigantine, and who refused to set their hands to any paper. The same sailboat that had taken the captain up to the town in the afternoon was waiting for them at the landing place, whence, the captain, having wished them Godspeed, and having shaken Barnaby very heartily by the hand, they pushed off, and, coming about, ran away with the slant of the wind, dropping the shore and those strange beings alike behind them into the night. As they sped away through the darkness they could hear the creaking of the sails being hoisted aboard of the brigantine, and so knew that she was about to put to sea once more. Nor did Barnaby True ever set eyes upon those beings again, nor did anyone else that I ever heard tell of. It was nigh midnight when they made Mr. Hartright's wharf at the foot of Wall Street, and so the streets were all dark and silent and deserted as they walked up to Barnaby's home. You may conceive of the wonder and amazement of Barnaby's dear stepfather when, clad in a dressing gown and carrying a lighted candle in his hand, he unlocked and unbarred the door, and so saw who it was had aroused him at such an hour of the night, and the young and beautiful lady whom Barnaby had fetched with him. The first thought of the good man was that the _Belle Helen_ had come into port; nor did Barnaby undeceive him as he led the way into the house, but waited until they were all safe and sound in privity together before he should unfold his strange and wonderful story. "This was left for you by two foreign sailors this afternoon, Barnaby," the good old man said, as he led the way through the hall, holding up the candle at the same time, so that Barnaby might see an object that stood against the wainscoting by the door of the dining room. Nor could Barnaby refrain from crying out with amazement when he saw that it was one of the two chests of treasure that Sir John Malyoe had fetched from Jamaica, and which the pirates had taken from the _Belle Helen_. As for Mr. Hartright, he guessed no more what was in it than the man in the moon. The next day but one brought the _Belle Helen_ herself into port, with the terrible news not only of having been attacked at night by pirates, but also that Sir John Malyoe was dead. For whether it was the sudden shock of the sight of his old captain's face--whom he himself had murdered and thought dead and buried--flashing so out against the darkness, or whether it was the strain of passion that overset his brains, certain it is that when the pirates left the _Belle Helen_, carrying with them the young lady and Barnaby and the traveling trunks, those left aboard the _Belle Helen_ found Sir John Malyoe lying in a fit upon the floor, frothing at the mouth and black in the face, as though he had been choked, and so took him away to his berth, where, the next morning about ten o'clock, he died, without once having opened his eyes or spoken a single word. As for the villain manservant, no one ever saw him afterward; though whether he jumped overboard, or whether the pirates who so attacked the ship had carried him away bodily, who shall say? Mr. Hartright, after he had heard Barnaby's story, had been very uncertain as to the ownership of the chest of treasure that had been left by those men for Barnaby, but the news of the death of Sir John Malyoe made the matter very easy for him to decide. For surely if that treasure did not belong to Barnaby, there could be no doubt that it must belong to his wife, she being Sir John Malyoe's legal heir. And so it was that that great fortune (in actual computation amounting to upward of sixty-three thousand pounds) came to Barnaby True, the grandson of that famous pirate, William Brand; the English estate in Devonshire, in default of male issue of Sir John Malyoe, descended to Captain Malyoe, whom the young lady was to have married. As for the other case of treasure, it was never heard of again, nor could Barnaby ever guess whether it was divided as booty among the pirates, or whether they had carried it away with them to some strange and foreign land, there to share it among themselves. And so the ending of the story, with only this to observe, that whether that strange appearance of Captain Brand's face by the light of the pistol was a ghostly and spiritual appearance, or whether he was present in flesh and blood, there is only to say that he was never heard of again; nor had he ever been heard of till that time since the day he was so shot from behind by Capt. John Malyoe on the banks of the Rio Cobra River in the year 1733. Chapter III WITH THE BUCCANEERS _Being an Account of Certain Adventures that Befell Henry Mostyn Under Capt. H. Morgan in the Year 1665-66_ [Illustration] I Although this narration has more particularly to do with the taking of the Spanish vice admiral in the harbor of Porto Bello, and of the rescue therefrom of Le Sieur Simon, his wife and daughter (the adventure of which was successfully achieved by Captain Morgan, the famous buccaneer), we shall, nevertheless, premise something of the earlier history of Master Harry Mostyn, whom you may, if you please, consider as the hero of the several circumstances recounted in these pages. In the year 1664 our hero's father embarked from Portsmouth, in England, for the Barbados, where he owned a considerable sugar plantation. Thither to those parts of America he transported with himself his whole family, of whom our Master Harry was the fifth of eight children--a great lusty fellow as little fitted for the Church (for which he was designed) as could be. At the time of this story, though not above sixteen years old, Master Harry Mostyn was as big and well-grown as many a man of twenty, and of such a reckless and dare-devil spirit that no adventure was too dangerous or too mischievous for him to embark upon. At this time there was a deal of talk in those parts of the Americas concerning Captain Morgan, and the prodigious successes he was having pirating against the Spaniards. This man had once been an indentured servant with Mr. Rolls, a sugar factor at the Barbados. Having served out his time, and being of lawless disposition, possessing also a prodigious appetite for adventure, he joined with others of his kidney, and, purchasing a caravel of three guns, embarked fairly upon that career of piracy the most successful that ever was heard of in the world. Master Harry had known this man very well while he was still with Mr. Rolls, serving as a clerk at that gentleman's sugar wharf, a tall, broad-shouldered, strapping fellow, with red cheeks, and thick red lips, and rolling blue eyes, and hair as red as any chestnut. Many knew him for a bold, gruff-spoken man, but no one at that time suspected that he had it in him to become so famous and renowned as he afterward grew to be. The fame of his exploits had been the talk of those parts for above a twelvemonth, when, in the latter part of the year 1665, Captain Morgan, having made a very successful expedition against the Spaniards into the Gulf of Campeche--where he took several important purchases from the plate fleet--came to the Barbados, there to fit out another such venture, and to enlist recruits. He and certain other adventurers had purchased a vessel of some five hundred tons, which they proposed to convert into a pirate by cutting portholes for cannon, and running three or four carronades across her main deck. The name of this ship, be it mentioned, was the _Good Samaritan_, as ill-fitting a name as could be for such a craft, which, instead of being designed for the healing of wounds, was intended to inflict such devastation as those wicked men proposed. [Illustration: BURIED TREASURE] Here was a piece of mischief exactly fitted to our hero's tastes; wherefore, having made up a bundle of clothes, and with not above a shilling in his pocket, he made an excursion into the town to seek for Captain Morgan. There he found the great pirate established at an ordinary, with a little court of ragamuffins and swashbucklers gathered about him, all talking very loud, and drinking healths in raw rum as though it were sugared water. And what a fine figure our buccaneer had grown, to be sure! How different from the poor, humble clerk upon the sugar wharf! What a deal of gold braid! What a fine, silver-hilted Spanish sword! What a gay velvet sling, hung with three silver-mounted pistols! If Master Harry's mind had not been made up before, to be sure such a spectacle of glory would have determined it. This figure of war our hero asked to step aside with him, and when they had come into a corner, proposed to the other what he intended, and that he had a mind to enlist as a gentleman adventurer upon this expedition. Upon this our rogue of a buccaneer captain burst out a-laughing, and fetching Master Harry a great thump upon the back, swore roundly that he would make a man of him, and that it was a pity to make a parson out of so good a piece of stuff. Nor was Captain Morgan less good than his word, for when the _Good Samaritan_ set sail with a favoring wind for the island of Jamaica, Master Harry found himself established as one of the adventurers aboard. II Could you but have seen the town of Port Royal as it appeared in the year 1665 you would have beheld a sight very well worth while looking upon. There were no fine houses at that time, and no great counting houses built of brick, such as you may find nowadays, but a crowd of board and wattled huts huddled along the streets, and all so gay with flags and bits of color that Vanity Fair itself could not have been gayer. To this place came all the pirates and buccaneers that infested those parts, and men shouted and swore and gambled, and poured out money like water, and then maybe wound up their merrymaking by dying of fever. For the sky in these torrid latitudes is all full of clouds overhead, and as hot as any blanket, and when the sun shone forth it streamed down upon the smoking sands so that the houses were ovens and the streets were furnaces; so it was little wonder that men died like rats in a hole. But little they appeared to care for that; so that everywhere you might behold a multitude of painted women and Jews and merchants and pirates, gaudy with red scarfs and gold braid and all sorts of odds and ends of foolish finery, all fighting and gambling and bartering for that ill-gotten treasure of the be-robbed Spaniard. Here, arriving, Captain Morgan found a hearty welcome, and a message from the governor awaiting him, the message bidding him attend His Excellency upon the earliest occasion that offered. Whereupon, taking our hero (of whom he had grown prodigiously fond) along with him, our pirate went, without any loss of time, to visit Sir Thomas Modiford, who was then the royal governor of all this devil's brew of wickedness. They found His Excellency seated in a great easy-chair, under the shadow of a slatted veranda, the floor whereof was paved with brick. He was clad, for the sake of coolness, only in his shirt, breeches, and stockings, and he wore slippers on his feet. He was smoking a great cigarro of tobacco, and a goblet of lime juice and water and rum stood at his elbow on a table. Here, out of the glare of the heat, it was all very cool and pleasant, with a sea breeze blowing violently in through the slats, setting them a-rattling now and then, and stirring Sir Thomas's long hair, which he had pushed back for the sake of coolness. The purport of this interview, I may tell you, concerned the rescue of one Le Sieur Simon, who, together with his wife and daughter, was held captive by the Spaniards. [Illustration] This gentleman adventurer (Le Sieur Simon) had, a few years before, been set up by the buccaneers as governor of the island of Santa Catharina. This place, though well fortified by the Spaniards, the buccaneers had seized upon, establishing themselves thereon, and so infesting the commerce of those seas that no Spanish fleet was safe from them. At last the Spaniards, no longer able to endure these assaults against their commerce, sent a great force against the freebooters to drive them out of their island stronghold. This they did, retaking Santa Catharina, together with its governor, his wife, and daughter, as well as the whole garrison of buccaneers. This garrison was sent by their conquerors, some to the galleys, some to the mines, some to no man knows where. The governor himself--Le Sieur Simon--was to be sent to Spain, there to stand his trial for piracy. The news of all this, I may tell you, had only just been received in Jamaica, having been brought thither by a Spanish captain, one Don Roderiguez Sylvia, who was, besides, the bearer of dispatches to the Spanish authorities relating the whole affair. Such, in fine, was the purport of this interview, and as our hero and his captain walked back together from the governor's house to the ordinary where they had taken up their inn, the buccaneer assured his companion that he purposed to obtain those dispatches from the Spanish captain that very afternoon, even if he had to use force to seize them. All this, you are to understand, was undertaken only because of the friendship that the governor and Captain Morgan entertained for Le Sieur Simon. And, indeed, it was wonderful how honest and how faithful were these wicked men in their dealings with one another. For you must know that Governor Modiford and Le Sieur Simon and the buccaneers were all of one kidney--all taking a share in the piracies of those times, and all holding by one another as though they were the honestest men in the world. Hence it was they were all so determined to rescue Le Sieur Simon from the Spaniards. III Having reached his ordinary after his interview with the governor, Captain Morgan found there a number of his companions, such as usually gathered at that place to be in attendance upon him--some, those belonging to the _Good Samaritan_; others, those who hoped to obtain benefits from him; others, those ragamuffins who gathered around him because he was famous, and because it pleased them to be of his court and to be called his followers. For nearly always your successful pirate had such a little court surrounding him. Finding a dozen or more of these rascals gathered there, Captain Morgan informed them of his present purpose--that he was going to find the Spanish captain to demand his papers of him, and calling upon them to accompany him. With this following at his heels, our buccaneer started off down the street, his lieutenant, a Cornishman named Bartholomew Davis, upon one hand and our hero upon the other. So they paraded the streets for the best part of an hour before they found the Spanish captain. For whether he had got wind that Captain Morgan was searching for him, or whether, finding himself in a place so full of his enemies, he had buried himself in some place of hiding, it is certain that the buccaneers had traversed pretty nearly the whole town before they discovered that he was lying at a certain auberge kept by a Portuguese Jew. Thither they went, and thither Captain Morgan entered with the utmost coolness and composure of demeanor, his followers crowding noisily in at his heels. The space within was very dark, being lighted only by the doorway and by two large slatted windows or openings in the front. In this dark, hot place--not over-roomy at the best--were gathered twelve or fifteen villainous-appearing men, sitting at tables and drinking together, waited upon by the Jew and his wife. Our hero had no trouble in discovering which of this lot of men was Captain Sylvia, for not only did Captain Morgan direct his glance full of war upon him, but the Spaniard was clad with more particularity and with more show of finery than any of the others who were there. Him Captain Morgan approached and demanded his papers, whereunto the other replied with such a jabber of Spanish and English that no man could have understood what he said. To this Captain Morgan in turn replied that he must have those papers, no matter what it might cost him to obtain them, and thereupon drew a pistol from his sling and presented it at the other's head. At this threatening action the innkeeper's wife fell a-screaming, and the Jew, as in a frenzy, besought them not to tear the house down about his ears. Our hero could hardly tell what followed, only that all of a sudden there was a prodigious uproar of combat. Knives flashed everywhere, and then a pistol was fired so close to his head that he stood like one stunned, hearing some one crying out in a loud voice, but not knowing whether it was a friend or a foe who had been shot. Then another pistol shot so deafened what was left of Master Harry's hearing that his ears rang for above an hour afterward. By this time the whole place was full of gunpowder smoke, and there was the sound of blows and oaths and outcrying and the clashing of knives. As Master Harry, who had no great stomach for such a combat, and no very particular interest in the quarrel, was making for the door, a little Portuguese, as withered and as nimble as an ape, came ducking under the table and plunged at his stomach with a great long knife, which, had it effected its object, would surely have ended his adventures then and there. Finding himself in such danger, Master Harry snatched up a heavy chair, and, flinging it at his enemy, who was preparing for another attack, he fairly ran for it out of the door, expecting every instant to feel the thrust of the blade betwixt his ribs. A considerable crowd had gathered outside, and others, hearing the uproar, were coming running to join them. With these our hero stood, trembling like a leaf, and with cold chills running up and down his back like water at the narrow escape from the danger that had threatened him. Nor shall you think him a coward, for you must remember he was hardly sixteen years old at the time, and that this was the first affair of the sort he had encountered. Afterward, as you shall learn, he showed that he could exhibit courage enough at a pinch. While he stood there, endeavoring to recover his composure, the while the tumult continued within, suddenly two men came running almost together out of the door, a crowd of the combatants at their heels. The first of these men was Captain Sylvia; the other, who was pursuing him, was Captain Morgan. As the crowd about the door parted before the sudden appearing of these, the Spanish captain, perceiving, as he supposed, a way of escape opened to him, darted across the street with incredible swiftness toward an alleyway upon the other side. Upon this, seeing his prey like to get away from him, Captain Morgan snatched a pistol out of his sling, and resting it for an instant across his arm, fired at the flying Spaniard, and that with so true an aim that, though the street was now full of people, the other went tumbling over and over all of a heap in the kennel, where he lay, after a twitch or two, as still as a log. At the sound of the shot and the fall of the man the crowd scattered upon all sides, yelling and screaming, and the street being thus pretty clear, Captain Morgan ran across the way to where his victim lay, his smoking pistol still in his hand, and our hero following close at his heels. Our poor Harry had never before beheld a man killed thus in an instant who a moment before had been so full of life and activity, for when Captain Morgan turned the body over upon its back he could perceive at a glance, little as he knew of such matters, that the man was stone-dead. And, indeed, it was a dreadful sight for him who was hardly more than a child. He stood rooted for he knew not how long, staring down at the dead face with twitching fingers and shuddering limbs. Meantime a great crowd was gathering about them again. [Illustration] As for Captain Morgan, he went about his work with the utmost coolness and deliberation imaginable, unbuttoning the waistcoat and the shirt of the man he had murdered with fingers that neither twitched nor shook. There were a gold cross and a bunch of silver medals hung by a whipcord about the neck of the dead man. This Captain Morgan broke away with a snap, reaching the jingling baubles to Harry, who took them in his nerveless hand and fingers that he could hardly close upon what they held. The papers Captain Morgan found in a wallet in an inner breast pocket of the Spaniard's waistcoat. These he examined one by one, and finding them to his satisfaction, tied them up again, and slipped the wallet and its contents into his own pocket. Then for the first time he appeared to observe Master Harry, who, indeed, must have been standing, the perfect picture of horror and dismay. Whereupon, bursting out a-laughing, and slipping the pistol he had used back into its sling again, he fetched poor Harry a great slap upon the back, bidding him be a man, for that he would see many such sights as this. But indeed, it was no laughing matter for poor Master Harry, for it was many a day before his imagination could rid itself of the image of the dead Spaniard's face; and as he walked away down the street with his companions, leaving the crowd behind them, and the dead body where it lay for its friends to look after, his ears humming and ringing from the deafening noise of the pistol shots fired in the close room, and the sweat trickling down his face in drops, he knew not whether all that had passed had been real, or whether it was a dream from which he might presently awaken. IV The papers Captain Morgan had thus seized upon as the fruit of the murder he had committed must have been as perfectly satisfactory to him as could be, for having paid a second visit that evening to Governor Modiford, the pirate lifted anchor the next morning and made sail toward the Gulf of Darien. There, after cruising about in those waters for about a fortnight without falling in with a vessel of any sort, at the end of that time they overhauled a caravel bound from Porto Bello to Cartagena, which vessel they took, and finding her loaded with nothing better than raw hides, scuttled and sank her, being then about twenty leagues from the main of Cartagena. From the captain of this vessel they learned that the plate fleet was then lying in the harbor of Porto Bello, not yet having set sail thence, but waiting for the change of the winds before embarking for Spain. Besides this, which was a good deal more to their purpose, the Spaniards told the pirates that the Sieur Simon, his wife, and daughter were confined aboard the vice admiral of that fleet, and that the name of the vice admiral was the _Santa Maria y Valladolid_. [Illustration: KIDD ON THE DECK OF THE _Adventure Galley_] So soon as Captain Morgan had obtained the information he desired he directed his course straight for the Bay of Santo Blaso, where he might lie safely within the cape of that name without any danger of discovery (that part of the mainland being entirely uninhabited) and yet be within twenty or twenty-five leagues of Porto Bello. Having come safely to this anchorage, he at once declared his intentions to his companions, which were as follows: That it was entirely impossible for them to hope to sail their vessel into the harbor of Porto Bello, and to attack the Spanish vice admiral where he lay in the midst of the armed flota; wherefore, if anything was to be accomplished, it must be undertaken by some subtle design rather than by open-handed boldness. Having so prefaced what he had to say, he now declared that it was his purpose to take one of the ship's boats and to go in that to Porto Bello, trusting for some opportunity to occur to aid him either in the accomplishment of his aims or in the gaining of some further information. Having thus delivered himself, he invited any who dared to do so to volunteer for the expedition, telling them plainly that he would constrain no man to go against his will, for that at best it was a desperate enterprise, possessing only the recommendation that in its achievement the few who undertook it would gain great renown, and perhaps a very considerable booty. And such was the incredible influence of this bold man over his companions, and such was their confidence in his skill and cunning, that not above a dozen of all those aboard hung back from the undertaking, but nearly every man desired to be taken. Of these volunteers Captain Morgan chose twenty--among others our Master Harry--and having arranged with his lieutenant that if nothing was heard from the expedition at the end of three days he should sail for Jamaica to await news, he embarked upon that enterprise, which, though never heretofore published, was perhaps the boldest and the most desperate of all those that have since made his name so famous. For what could be a more unparalleled undertaking than for a little open boat, containing but twenty men, to enter the harbor of the third strongest fortress of the Spanish mainland with the intention of cutting out the Spanish vice admiral from the midst of a whole fleet of powerfully armed vessels, and how many men in all the world do you suppose would venture such a thing? But there is this to be said of that great buccaneer: that if he undertook enterprises so desperate as this, he yet laid his plans so well that they never went altogether amiss. Moreover, the very desperation of his successes was of such a nature that no man could suspect that he would dare to undertake such things, and accordingly his enemies were never prepared to guard against his attacks. Aye, had he but worn the king's colors and served under the rules of honest war, he might have become as great and as renowned as Admiral Blake himself. But all that is neither here nor there; what I have to tell you now is that Captain Morgan in this open boat with his twenty mates reached the Cape of Salmedina toward the fall of day. Arriving within view of the harbor they discovered the plate fleet at anchor, with two men-of-war and an armed galley riding as a guard at the mouth of the harbor, scarce half a league distant from the other ships. Having spied the fleet in this posture, the pirates presently pulled down their sails and rowed along the coast, feigning to be a Spanish vessel from Nombre de Dios. So hugging the shore, they came boldly within the harbor, upon the opposite side of which you might see the fortress a considerable distance away. Being now come so near to the consummation of their adventure, Captain Morgan required every man to make an oath to stand by him to the last, whereunto our hero swore as heartily as any man aboard, although his heart, I must needs confess, was beating at a great rate at the approach of what was to happen. Having thus received the oaths of all his followers, Captain Morgan commanded the surgeon of the expedition that, when the order was given, he, the medico, was to bore six holes in the boat, so that, it sinking under them, they might all be compelled to push forward, with no chance of retreat. And such was the ascendancy of this man over his followers, and such was their awe of him, that not one of them uttered even so much as a murmur, though what he had commanded the surgeon to do pledged them either to victory or to death, with no chance to choose between. Nor did the surgeon question the orders he had received, much less did he dream of disobeying them. By now it had fallen pretty dusk, whereupon, spying two fishermen in a canoe at a little distance, Captain Morgan demanded of them in Spanish which vessel of those at anchor in the harbor was the vice admiral, for that he had dispatches for the captain thereof. Whereupon the fishermen, suspecting nothing, pointed to them a galleon of great size riding at anchor not half a league distant. [Illustration] Toward this vessel accordingly the pirates directed their course, and when they had come pretty nigh, Captain Morgan called upon the surgeon that now it was time for him to perform the duty that had been laid upon him. Whereupon the other did as he was ordered, and that so thoroughly that the water presently came gushing into the boat in great streams, whereat all hands pulled for the galleon as though every next moment was to be their last. And what do you suppose were our hero's emotions at this time? Like all in the boat, his awe of Captain Morgan was so great that I do believe he would rather have gone to the bottom than have questioned his command, even when it was to scuttle the boat. Nevertheless, when he felt the cold water gushing about his feet (for he had taken off his shoes and stockings) he became possessed with such a fear of being drowned that even the Spanish galleon had no terrors for him if he could only feel the solid planks thereof beneath his feet. Indeed, all the crew appeared to be possessed of a like dismay, for they pulled at the oars with such an incredible force that they were under the quarter of the galleon before the boat was half filled with water. Here, as they approached, it then being pretty dark and the moon not yet having risen, the watch upon the deck hailed them, whereupon Captain Morgan called out in Spanish that he was Capt. Alvarez Mendazo, and that he brought dispatches for the vice admiral. But at that moment, the boat being now so full of water as to be logged, it suddenly tilted upon one side as though to sink beneath them, whereupon all hands, without further orders, went scrambling up the side, as nimble as so many monkeys, each armed with a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other, and so were upon deck before the watch could collect his wits to utter any outcry or to give any other alarm than to cry out, "Jesu bless us! who are these?" at which words somebody knocked him down with the butt of a pistol, though who it was our hero could not tell in the darkness and the hurry. Before any of those upon deck could recover from their alarm or those from below come up upon deck, a part of the pirates, under the carpenter and the surgeon, had run to the gun room and had taken possession of the arms, while Captain Morgan, with Master Harry and a Portuguese called Murillo Braziliano, had flown with the speed of the wind into the great cabin. Here they found the captain of the vice admiral playing at cards with the Sieur Simon and a friend, Madam Simon and her daughter being present. Captain Morgan instantly set his pistol at the breast of the Spanish captain, swearing with a most horrible fierce countenance that if he spake a word or made any outcry he was a dead man. As for our hero, having now got his hand into the game, he performed the same service for the Spaniard's friend, declaring he would shoot him dead if he opened his lips or lifted so much as a single finger. All this while the ladies, not comprehending what had occurred, had sat as mute as stones; but now having so far recovered themselves as to find a voice, the younger of the two fell to screaming, at which the Sieur Simon called out to her to be still, for these were friends who had come to help them, and not enemies who had come to harm them. All this, you are to understand, occupied only a little while, for in less than a minute three or four of the pirates had come into the cabin, who, together with the Portuguese, proceeded at once to bind the two Spaniards hand and foot, and to gag them. This being done to our buccaneer's satisfaction, and the Spanish captain being stretched out in the corner of the cabin, he instantly cleared his countenance of its terrors, and bursting forth into a great loud laugh, clapped his hand to the Sieur Simon's, which he wrung with the best will in the world. Having done this, and being in a fine humor after this his first success, he turned to the two ladies. "And this, ladies," said he, taking our hero by the hand and presenting him, "is a young gentleman who has embarked with me to learn the trade of piracy. I recommend him to your politeness." Think what a confusion this threw our Master Harry into, to be sure, who at his best was never easy in the company of strange ladies! You may suppose what must have been his emotions to find himself thus introduced to the attention of Madam Simon and her daughter, being at the time in his bare feet, clad only in his shirt and breeches, and with no hat upon his head, a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other. However, he was not left for long to his embarrassments, for almost immediately after he had thus far relaxed, Captain Morgan fell of a sudden serious again, and bidding the Sieur Simon to get his ladies away into some place of safety, for the most hazardous part of this adventure was yet to occur, he quitted the cabin with Master Harry and the other pirates (for you may call him a pirate now) at his heels. Having come upon deck, our hero beheld that a part of the Spanish crew were huddled forward in a flock like so many sheep (the others being crowded below with the hatches fastened upon them), and such was the terror of the pirates, and so dreadful the name of Henry Morgan, that not one of those poor wretches dared to lift up his voice to give any alarm, nor even to attempt an escape by jumping overboard. At Captain Morgan's orders, these men, together with certain of his own company, ran nimbly aloft and began setting the sails, which, the night now having fallen pretty thick, was not for a good while observed by any of the vessels riding at anchor about them. Indeed, the pirates might have made good their escape, with at most only a shot or two from the men-of-war, had it not then been about the full of the moon, which, having arisen, presently discovered to those of the fleet that lay closest about them what was being done aboard the vice admiral. At this one of the vessels hailed them, and then after a while, having no reply, hailed them again. Even then the Spaniards might not immediately have suspected anything was amiss but only that the vice admiral for some reason best known to himself was shifting his anchorage, had not one of the Spaniards aloft--but who it was Captain Morgan was never able to discover--answered the hail by crying out that the vice admiral had been seized by the pirates. At this the alarm was instantly given and the mischief done, for presently there was a tremendous bustle through that part of the fleet lying nighest the vice admiral--a deal of shouting of orders, a beating of drums, and the running hither and thither of the crews. But by this time the sails of the vice admiral had filled with a strong land breeze that was blowing up the harbor, whereupon the carpenter, at Captain Morgan's orders, having cut away both anchors, the galleon presently bore away up the harbor, gathering headway every moment with the wind nearly dead astern. The nearest vessel was the only one that for the moment was able to offer any hindrance. This ship, having by this time cleared away one of its guns, was able to fire a parting shot against the vice-admiral, striking her somewhere forward, as our hero could see by a great shower of splinters that flew up in the moonlight. At the sound of the shot all the vessels of the flota not yet disturbed by the alarm were aroused at once, so that the pirates had the satisfaction of knowing that they would have to run the gantlet of all the ships between them and the open sea before they could reckon themselves escaped. And, indeed, to our hero's mind it seemed that the battle which followed must have been the most terrific cannonade that was ever heard in the world. It was not so ill at first, for it was some while before the Spaniards could get their guns clear for action, they being not the least in the world prepared for such an occasion as this. But by and by first one and then another ship opened fire upon the galleon, until it seemed to our hero that all the thunders of heaven let loose upon them could not have created a more prodigious uproar, and that it was not possible that they could any of them escape destruction. By now the moon had risen full and round, so that the clouds of smoke that rose in the air appeared as white as snow. The air seemed full of the hiss and screaming of shot, each one of which, when it struck the galleon, was magnified by our hero's imagination into ten times its magnitude from the crash which it delivered and from the cloud of splinters it would cast up into the moonlight. At last he suddenly beheld one poor man knocked sprawling across the deck, who, as he raised his arm from behind the mast, disclosed that the hand was gone from it, and that the shirt sleeve was red with blood in the moonlight. At this sight all the strength fell away from poor Harry, and he felt sure that a like fate or even a worse must be in store for him. But, after all, this was nothing to what it might have been in broad daylight, for what with the darkness of night, and the little preparation the Spaniards could make for such a business, and the extreme haste with which they discharged their guns (many not understanding what was the occasion of all this uproar), nearly all the shot flew so wide of the mark that not above one in twenty struck that at which it was aimed. Meantime Captain Morgan, with the Sieur Simon, who had followed him upon deck, stood just above where our hero lay behind the shelter of the bulwark. The captain had lit a pipe of tobacco, and he stood now in the bright moonlight close to the rail, with his hands behind him, looking out ahead with the utmost coolness imaginable, and paying no more attention to the din of battle than though it were twenty leagues away. Now and then he would take his pipe from his lips to utter an order to the man at the wheel. Excepting this he stood there hardly moving at all, the wind blowing his long red hair over his shoulders. [Illustration: BURNING THE SHIP] Had it not been for the armed galley the pirates might have got the galleon away with no great harm done in spite of all this cannonading, for the man-of-war which rode at anchor nighest to them at the mouth of the harbor was still so far away that they might have passed it by hugging pretty close to the shore, and that without any great harm being done to them in the darkness. But just at this moment, when the open water lay in sight, came this galley pulling out from behind the point of the shore in such a manner as either to head our pirates off entirely or else to compel them to approach so near to the man-of-war that that latter vessel could bring its guns to bear with more effect. This galley, I must tell you, was like others of its kind such as you may find in these waters, the hull being long and cut low to the water so as to allow the oars to dip freely. The bow was sharp and projected far out ahead, mounting a swivel upon it, while at the stern a number of galleries built one above another into a castle gave shelter to several companies of musketeers as well as the officers commanding them. Our hero could behold the approach of this galley from above the starboard bulwarks, and it appeared to him impossible for them to hope to escape either it or the man-of-war. But still Captain Morgan maintained the same composure that he had exhibited all the while, only now and then delivering an order to the man at the wheel, who, putting the helm over, threw the bows of the galleon around more to the larboard, as though to escape the bow of the galley and get into the open water beyond. This course brought the pirates ever closer and closer to the man-of-war, which now began to add its thunder to the din of the battle, and with so much more effect that at every discharge you might hear the crashing and crackling of splintered wood, and now and then the outcry or groaning of some man who was hurt. Indeed, had it been daylight, they must at this juncture all have perished, though, as was said, what with the night and the confusion and the hurry, they escaped entire destruction, though more by a miracle than through any policy upon their own part. Meantime the galley, steering as though to come aboard of them, had now come so near that it, too, presently began to open its musketry fire upon them, so that the humming and rattling of bullets were presently added to the din of cannonading. In two minutes more it would have been aboard of them, when in a moment Captain Morgan roared out of a sudden to the man at the helm to put it hard a starboard. In response the man ran the wheel over with the utmost quickness, and the galleon, obeying her helm very readily, came around upon a course which, if continued, would certainly bring them into collision with their enemy. It is possible at first the Spaniards imagined the pirates intended to escape past their stern, for they instantly began backing oars to keep them from getting past, so that the water was all of a foam about them; at the same time they did this they poured in such a fire of musketry that it was a miracle that no more execution was accomplished than happened. As for our hero, methinks for the moment he forgot all about everything else than as to whether or no his captain's maneuver would succeed, for in the very first moment he divined, as by some instinct, what Captain Morgan purposed doing. At this moment, so particular in the execution of this nice design, a bullet suddenly struck down the man at the wheel. Hearing the sharp outcry, our Harry turned to see him fall forward, and then to his hands and knees upon the deck, the blood running in a black pool beneath him, while the wheel, escaping from his hands, spun over until the spokes were all of a mist. In a moment the ship would have fallen off before the wind had not our hero, leaping to the wheel (even as Captain Morgan shouted an order for some one to do so), seized the flying spokes, whirling them back again, and so bringing the bow of the galleon up to its former course. In the first moment of this effort he had reckoned of nothing but of carrying out his captain's designs. He neither thought of cannon balls nor of bullets. But now that his task was accomplished, he came suddenly back to himself to find the galleries of the galley aflame with musket shots, and to become aware with a most horrible sinking of the spirits that all the shots therefrom were intended for him. He cast his eyes about him with despair, but no one came to ease him of his task, which, having undertaken, he had too much spirit to resign from carrying through to the end, though he was well aware that the very next instant might mean his sudden and violent death. His ears hummed and rang, and his brain swam as light as a feather. I know not whether he breathed, but he shut his eyes tight as though that might save him from the bullets that were raining about him. [Illustration] At this moment the Spaniards must have discovered for the first time the pirates' design, for of a sudden they ceased firing, and began to shout out a multitude of orders, while the oars lashed the water all about with a foam. But it was too late then for them to escape, for within a couple of seconds the galleon struck her enemy a blow so violent upon the larboard quarter as nearly to hurl our Harry upon the deck, and then with a dreadful, horrible crackling of wood, commingled with a yelling of men's voices, the galley was swung around upon her side, and the galleon, sailing into the open sea, left nothing of her immediate enemy but a sinking wreck, and the water dotted all over with bobbing heads and waving hands in the moonlight. And now, indeed, that all danger was past and gone, there were plenty to come running to help our hero at the wheel. As for Captain Morgan, having come down upon the main deck, he fetches the young helmsman a clap upon the back. "Well, Master Harry," says he, "and did I not tell you I would make a man of you?" Whereat our poor Harry fell a-laughing, but with a sad catch in his voice, for his hands trembled as with an ague, and were as cold as ice. As for his emotions, God knows he was nearer crying than laughing, if Captain Morgan had but known it. Nevertheless, though undertaken under the spur of the moment, I protest it was indeed a brave deed, and I cannot but wonder how many young gentlemen of sixteen there are to-day who, upon a like occasion, would act as well as our Harry. V The balance of our hero's adventures were of a lighter sort than those already recounted, for the next morning the Spanish captain (a very polite and well-bred gentleman) having fitted him out with a shift of his own clothes, Master Harry was presented in a proper form to the ladies. For Captain Morgan, if he had felt a liking for the young man before, could not now show sufficient regard for him. He ate in the great cabin and was petted by all. Madam Simon, who was a fat and red-faced lady, was forever praising him, and the young miss, who was extremely well-looking, was as continually making eyes at him. She and Master Harry, I must tell you, would spend hours together, she making pretense of teaching him French, although he was so possessed with a passion of love that he was nigh suffocated with it. She, upon her part, perceiving his emotions, responded with extreme good nature and complacency, so that had our hero been older, and the voyage proved longer, he might have become entirely enmeshed in the toils of his fair siren. For all this while, you are to understand, the pirates were making sail straight for Jamaica, which they reached upon the third day in perfect safety. In that time, however, the pirates had well-nigh gone crazy for joy; for when they came to examine their purchase they discovered her cargo to consist of plate to the prodigious sum of £130,000 in value. 'Twas a wonder they did not all make themselves drunk for joy. No doubt they would have done so had not Captain Morgan, knowing they were still in the exact track of the Spanish fleets, threatened them that the first man among them who touched a drop of rum without his permission he would shoot him dead upon the deck. This threat had such effect that they all remained entirely sober until they had reached Port Royal Harbor, which they did about nine o'clock in the morning. [Illustration] And now it was that our hero's romance came all tumbling down about his ears with a run. For they had hardly come to anchor in the harbor when a boat came from a man-of-war, and who should come stepping aboard but Lieutenant Grantley (a particular friend of our hero's father) and his own eldest brother Thomas, who, putting on a very stern face, informed Master Harry that he was a desperate and hardened villain who was sure to end at the gallows, and that he was to go immediately back to his home again. He told our embryo pirate that his family had nigh gone distracted because of his wicked and ungrateful conduct. Nor could our hero move him from his inflexible purpose. "What," says our Harry, "and will you not then let me wait until our prize is divided and I get my share?" "Prize, indeed!" says his brother. "And do you then really think that your father would consent to your having a share in this terrible bloody and murthering business?" And so, after a good deal of argument, our hero was constrained to go; nor did he even have an opportunity to bid adieu to his inamorata. Nor did he see her any more, except from a distance, she standing on the poop deck as he was rowed away from her, her face all stained with crying. For himself, he felt that there was no more joy in life; nevertheless, standing up in the stern of the boat, he made shift, though with an aching heart, to deliver her a fine bow with the hat he had borrowed from the Spanish captain, before his brother bade him sit down again. And so to the ending of this story, with only this to relate, that our Master Harry, so far from going to the gallows, became in good time a respectable and wealthy sugar merchant with an English wife and a fine family of children, whereunto, when the mood was upon him, he has sometimes told these adventures (and sundry others not here recounted), as I have told them unto you. [Illustration] Chapter IV TOM CHIST AND THE TREASURE BOX _An Old-time Story of the Days of Captain Kidd_ I To tell about Tom Chist, and how he got his name, and how he came to be living at the little settlement of Henlopen, just inside the mouth of the Delaware Bay, the story must begin as far back as 1686, when a great storm swept the Atlantic coast from end to end. During the heaviest part of the hurricane a bark went ashore on the Hen-and-Chicken Shoals, just below Cape Henlopen and at the mouth of the Delaware Bay, and Tom Chist was the only soul of all those on board the ill-fated vessel who escaped alive. This story must first be told, because it was on account of the strange and miraculous escape that happened to him at that time that he gained the name that was given to him. Even as late as that time of the American colonies, the little scattered settlement at Henlopen, made up of English, with a few Dutch and Swedish people, was still only a spot upon the face of the great American wilderness that spread away, with swamp and forest, no man knew how far to the westward. That wilderness was not only full of wild beasts, but of Indian savages, who every fall would come in wandering tribes to spend the winter along the shores of the fresh-water lakes below Henlopen. There for four or five months they would live upon fish and clams and wild ducks and geese, chipping their arrowheads, and making their earthenware pots and pans under the lee of the sand hills and pine woods below the Capes. Sometimes on Sundays, when the Rev. Hillary Jones would be preaching in the little log church back in the woods, these half-clad red savages would come in from the cold, and sit squatting in the back part of the church, listening stolidly to the words that had no meaning for them. But about the wreck of the bark in 1686. Such a wreck as that which then went ashore on the Hen-and-Chicken Shoals was a godsend to the poor and needy settlers in the wilderness where so few good things ever came. For the vessel went to pieces during the night, and the next morning the beach was strewn with wreckage--boxes and barrels, chests and spars, timbers and planks, a plentiful and bountiful harvest to be gathered up by the settlers as they chose, with no one to forbid or prevent them. The name of the bark, as found painted on some of the water barrels and sea chests, was the _Bristol Merchant_, and she no doubt hailed from England. As was said, the only soul who escaped alive off the wreck was Tom Chist. A settler, a fisherman named Matt Abrahamson, and his daughter Molly, found Tom. He was washed up on the beach among the wreckage, in a great wooden box which had been securely tied around with a rope and lashed between two spars--apparently for better protection in beating through the surf. Matt Abrahamson thought he had found something of more than usual value when he came upon this chest; but when he cut the cords and broke open the box with his broadax, he could not have been more astonished had he beheld a salamander instead of a baby of nine or ten months old lying half smothered in the blankets that covered the bottom of the chest. Matt Abrahamson's daughter Molly had had a baby who had died a month or so before. So when she saw the little one lying there in the bottom of the chest, she cried out in a great loud voice that the Good Man had sent her another baby in place of her own. The rain was driving before the hurricane storm in dim, slanting sheets, and so she wrapped up the baby in the man's coat she wore and ran off home without waiting to gather up any more of the wreckage. It was Parson Jones who gave the foundling his name. When the news came to his ears of what Matt Abrahamson had found he went over to the fisherman's cabin to see the child. He examined the clothes in which the baby was dressed. They were of fine linen and handsomely stitched, and the reverend gentleman opined that the foundling's parents must have been of quality. A kerchief had been wrapped around the baby's neck and under its arms and tied behind, and in the corner, marked with very fine needlework, were the initials T. C. "What d'ye call him, Molly?" said Parson Jones. He was standing, as he spoke, with his back to the fire, warming his palms before the blaze. The pocket of the greatcoat he wore bulged out with a big case bottle of spirits which he had gathered up out of the wreck that afternoon. "What d'ye call him, Molly?" "I'll call him Tom, after my own baby." "That goes very well with the initial on the kerchief," said Parson Jones. "But what other name d'ye give him? Let it be something to go with the C." "I don't know," said Molly. "Why not call him 'Chist,' since he was born in a chist out of the sea? 'Tom Chist'--the name goes off like a flash in the pan." And so "Tom Chist" he was called and "Tom Chist" he was christened. So much for the beginning of the history of Tom Chist. The story of Captain Kidd's treasure box does not begin until the late spring of 1699. That was the year that the famous pirate captain, coming up from the West Indies, sailed his sloop into the Delaware Bay, where he lay for over a month waiting for news from his friends in New York. For he had sent word to that town asking if the coast was clear for him to return home with the rich prize he had brought from the Indian seas and the coast of Africa, and meantime he lay there in the Delaware Bay waiting for a reply. Before he left he turned the whole of Tom Chist's life topsy-turvy with something that he brought ashore. By that time Tom Chist had grown into a strong-limbed, thick-jointed boy of fourteen or fifteen years of age. It was a miserable dog's life he lived with old Matt Abrahamson, for the old fisherman was in his cups more than half the time, and when he was so there was hardly a day passed that he did not give Tom a curse or a buffet or, as like as not, an actual beating. One would have thought that such treatment would have broken the spirit of the poor little foundling, but it had just the opposite effect upon Tom Chist, who was one of your stubborn, sturdy, stiff-willed fellows who only grow harder and more tough the more they are ill-treated. It had been a long time now since he had made any outcry or complaint at the hard usage he suffered from old Matt. At such times he would shut his teeth and bear whatever came to him, until sometimes the half-drunken old man would be driven almost mad by his stubborn silence. Maybe he would stop in the midst of the beating he was administering, and, grinding his teeth, would cry out: "Won't ye say naught? Won't ye say naught? Well, then, I'll see if I can't make ye say naught." When things had reached such a pass as this Molly would generally interfere to protect her foster son, and then she and Tom would together fight the old man until they had wrenched the stick or the strap out of his hand. Then old Matt would chase them out of doors and around and around the house for maybe half an hour, until his anger was cool, when he would go back again, and for a time the storm would be over. Besides his foster mother, Tom Chist had a very good friend in Parson Jones, who used to come over every now and then to Abrahamson's hut upon the chance of getting a half dozen fish for breakfast. He always had a kind word or two for Tom, who during the winter evenings would go over to the good man's house to learn his letters, and to read and write and cipher a little, so that by now he was able to spell the words out of the Bible and the almanac, and knew enough to change tuppence into four ha'pennies. This is the sort of boy Tom Chist was, and this is the sort of life he led. In the late spring or early summer of 1699 Captain Kidd's sloop sailed into the mouth of the Delaware Bay and changed the whole fortune of his life. And this is how you come to the story of Captain Kidd's treasure box. II Old Matt Abrahamson kept the flat-bottomed boat in which he went fishing some distance down the shore, and in the neighborhood of the old wreck that had been sunk on the Shoals. This was the usual fishing ground of the settlers, and here old Matt's boat generally lay drawn up on the sand. There had been a thunderstorm that afternoon, and Tom had gone down the beach to bale out the boat in readiness for the morning's fishing. It was full moonlight now, as he was returning, and the night sky was full of floating clouds. Now and then there was a dull flash to the westward, and once a muttering growl of thunder, promising another storm to come. All that day the pirate sloop had been lying just off the shore back of the Capes, and now Tom Chist could see the sails glimmering pallidly in the moonlight, spread for drying after the storm. He was walking up the shore homeward when he became aware that at some distance ahead of him there was a ship's boat drawn up on the little narrow beach, and a group of men clustered about it. He hurried forward with a good deal of curiosity to see who had landed, but it was not until he had come close to them that he could distinguish who and what they were. Then he knew that it must be a party who had come off the pirate sloop. They had evidently just landed, and two men were lifting out a chest from the boat. One of them was a negro, naked to the waist, and the other was a white man in his shirt sleeves, wearing petticoat breeches, a Monterey cap upon his head, a red bandanna handkerchief around his neck, and gold earrings in his ears. He had a long, plaited queue hanging down his back, and a great sheath knife dangling from his side. Another man, evidently the captain of the party, stood at a little distance as they lifted the chest out of the boat. He had a cane in one hand and a lighted lantern in the other, although the moon was shining as bright as day. He wore jack boots and a handsome laced coat, and he had a long, drooping mustache that curled down below his chin. He wore a fine, feathered hat, and his long black hair hung down upon his shoulders. All this Tom Chist could see in the moonlight that glinted and twinkled upon the gilt buttons of his coat. They were so busy lifting the chest from the boat that at first they did not observe that Tom Chist had come up and was standing there. It was the white man with the long, plaited queue and the gold earrings that spoke to him. "Boy, what do you want here, boy?" he said, in a rough, hoarse voice. "Where d'ye come from?" And then dropping his end of the chest, and without giving Tom time to answer, he pointed off down the beach, and said, "You'd better be going about your own business, if you know what's good for you; and don't you come back, or you'll find what you don't want waiting for you." [Illustration: WHO SHALL BE CAPTAIN?] Tom saw in a glance that the pirates were all looking at him, and then, without saying a word, he turned and walked away. The man who had spoken to him followed him threateningly for some little distance, as though to see that he had gone away as he was bidden to do. But presently he stopped, and Tom hurried on alone, until the boat and the crew and all were dropped away behind and lost in the moonlight night. Then he himself stopped also, turned, and looked back whence he had come. There had been something very strange in the appearance of the men he had just seen, something very mysterious in their actions, and he wondered what it all meant, and what they were going to do. He stood for a little while thus looking and listening. He could see nothing, and could hear only the sound of distant talking. What were they doing on the lonely shore thus at night? Then, following a sudden impulse, he turned and cut off across the sand hummocks, skirting around inland, but keeping pretty close to the shore, his object being to spy upon them, and to watch what they were about from the back of the low sand hills that fronted the beach. He had gone along some distance in his circuitous return when he became aware of the sound of voices that seemed to be drawing closer to him as he came toward the speakers. He stopped and stood listening, and instantly, as he stopped, the voices stopped also. He crouched there silently in the bright, glimmering moonlight, surrounded by the silent stretches of sand, and the stillness seemed to press upon him like a heavy hand. Then suddenly the sound of a man's voice began again, and as Tom listened he could hear some one slowly counting. "Ninety-one," the voice began, "ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred, one hundred and one"--the slow, monotonous count coming nearer and nearer; "one hundred and two, one hundred and three, one hundred and four," and so on in its monotonous reckoning. Suddenly he saw three heads appear above the sand hill, so close to him that he crouched down quickly with a keen thrill, close beside the hummock near which he stood. His first fear was that they might have seen him in the moonlight; but they had not, and his heart rose again as the counting voice went steadily on. "One hundred and twenty," it was saying--"and twenty-one, and twenty-two, and twenty-three, and twenty-four," and then he who was counting came out from behind the little sandy rise into the white and open level of shimmering brightness. It was the man with the cane whom Tom had seen some time before--the captain of the party who had landed. He carried his cane under his arm now, and was holding his lantern close to something that he held in his hand, and upon which he looked narrowly as he walked with a slow and measured tread in a perfectly straight line across the sand, counting each step as he took it. "And twenty-five, and twenty-six, and twenty-seven, and twenty-eight, and twenty-nine, and thirty." [Illustration] Behind him walked two other figures; one was the half-naked negro, the other the man with the plaited queue and the earrings, whom Tom had seen lifting the chest out of the boat. Now they were carrying the heavy box between them, laboring through the sand with shuffling tread as they bore it onward. As he who was counting pronounced the word "thirty," the two men set the chest down on the sand with a grunt, the white man panting and blowing and wiping his sleeve across his forehead. And immediately he who counted took out a slip of paper and marked something down upon it. They stood there for a long time, during which Tom lay behind the sand hummock watching them, and for a while the silence was uninterrupted. In the perfect stillness Tom could hear the washing of the little waves beating upon the distant beach, and once the far-away sound of a laugh from one of those who stood by the ship's boat. One, two, three minutes passed, and then the men picked up the chest and started on again; and then again the other man began his counting. "Thirty and one, and thirty and two, and thirty and three, and thirty and four"--he walked straight across the level open, still looking intently at that which he held in his hand--"and thirty and five, and thirty and six, and thirty and seven," and so on, until the three figures disappeared in the little hollow between the two sand hills on the opposite side of the open, and still Tom could hear the sound of the counting voice in the distance. Just as they disappeared behind the hill there was a sudden faint flash of light; and by and by, as Tom lay still listening to the counting, he heard, after a long interval, a far-away muffled rumble of distant thunder. He waited for a while, and then arose and stepped to the top of the sand hummock behind which he had been lying. He looked all about him, but there was no one else to be seen. Then he stepped down from the hummock and followed in the direction which the pirate captain and the two men carrying the chest had gone. He crept along cautiously, stopping now and then to make sure that he still heard the counting voice, and when it ceased he lay down upon the sand and waited until it began again. Presently, so following the pirates, he saw the three figures again in the distance, and, skirting around back of a hill of sand covered with coarse sedge grass, he came to where he overlooked a little open level space gleaming white in the moonlight. The three had been crossing the level of sand, and were now not more than twenty-five paces from him. They had again set down the chest, upon which the white man with the long queue and the gold earrings had seated to rest himself, the negro standing close beside him. The moon shone as bright as day and full upon his face. It was looking directly at Tom Chist, every line as keen cut with white lights and black shadows as though it had been carved in ivory and jet. He sat perfectly motionless, and Tom drew back with a start, almost thinking he had been discovered. He lay silent, his heart beating heavily in his throat; but there was no alarm, and presently he heard the counting begin again, and when he looked once more he saw they were going away straight across the little open. A soft, sliding hillock of sand lay directly in front of them. They did not turn aside, but went straight over it, the leader helping himself up the sandy slope with his cane, still counting and still keeping his eyes fixed upon that which he held in his hand. Then they disappeared again behind the white crest on the other side. So Tom followed them cautiously until they had gone almost half a mile inland. When next he saw them clearly it was from a little sandy rise which looked down like the crest of a bowl upon the floor of sand below. Upon this smooth, white floor the moon beat with almost dazzling brightness. The white man who had helped to carry the chest was now kneeling, busied at some work, though what it was Tom at first could not see. He was whittling the point of a stick into a long wooden peg, and when, by and by, he had finished what he was about, he arose and stepped to where he who seemed to be the captain had stuck his cane upright into the ground as though to mark some particular spot. He drew the cane out of the sand, thrusting the stick down in its stead. Then he drove the long peg down with a wooden mallet which the negro handed to him. The sharp rapping of the mallet upon the top of the peg sounded loud in the perfect stillness, and Tom lay watching and wondering what it all meant. The man, with quick-repeated blows, drove the peg farther and farther down into the sand until it showed only two or three inches above the surface. As he finished his work there was another faint flash of light, and by and by another smothered rumble of thunder, and Tom, as he looked out toward the westward, saw the silver rim of the round and sharply outlined thundercloud rising slowly up into the sky and pushing the other and broken drifting clouds before it. [Illustration: Kidd at Gardiner's Island _Illustration from_ SEA ROBBERS OF NEW YORK _by_ Thomas A. Janvier _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _November, 1894_] The two white men were now stooping over the peg, the negro man watching them. Then presently the man with the cane started straight away from the peg, carrying the end of a measuring line with him, the other end of which the man with the plaited queue held against the top of the peg. When the pirate captain had reached the end of the measuring line he marked a cross upon the sand, and then again they measured out another stretch of space. So they measured a distance five times over, and then, from where Tom lay, he could see the man with the queue drive another peg just at the foot of a sloping rise of sand that swept up beyond into a tall white dune marked sharp and clear against the night sky behind. As soon as the man with the plaited queue had driven the second peg into the ground they began measuring again, and so, still measuring, disappeared in another direction which took them in behind the sand dune where Tom no longer could see what they were doing. The negro still sat by the chest where the two had left him, and so bright was the moonlight that from where he lay Tom could see the glint of it twinkling in the whites of his eyeballs. Presently from behind the hill there came, for the third time, the sharp rapping sound of the mallet driving still another peg, and then after a while the two pirates emerged from behind the sloping whiteness into the space of moonlight again. They came direct to where the chest lay, and the white man and the black man lifting it once more, they walked away across the level of open sand, and so on behind the edge of the hill and out of Tom's sight. III Tom Chist could no longer see what the pirates were doing, neither did he dare to cross over the open space of sand that now lay between them and him. He lay there speculating as to what they were about, and meantime the storm cloud was rising higher and higher above the horizon, with louder and louder mutterings of thunder following each dull flash from out the cloudy, cavernous depths. In the silence he could hear an occasional click as of some iron implement, and he opined that the pirates were burying the chest, though just where they were at work he could neither see nor tell. Still he lay there watching and listening, and by and by a puff of warm air blew across the sand, and a thumping tumble of louder thunder leaped from out the belly of the storm cloud, which every minute was coming nearer and nearer. Still Tom Chist lay watching. Suddenly, almost unexpectedly, the three figures reappeared from behind the sand hill, the pirate captain leading the way, and the negro and white man following close behind him. They had gone about halfway across the white, sandy level between the hill and the hummock behind which Tom Chist lay, when the white man stopped and bent over as though to tie his shoe. This brought the negro a few steps in front of his companion. That which then followed happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, so swiftly, that Tom Chist had hardly time to realize what it all meant before it was over. As the negro passed him the white man arose suddenly and silently erect, and Tom Chist saw the white moonlight glint upon the blade of a great dirk knife which he now held in his hand. He took one, two silent, catlike steps behind the unsuspecting negro. Then there was a sweeping flash of the blade in the pallid light, and a blow, the thump of which Tom could distinctly hear even from where he lay stretched out upon the sand. There was an instant echoing yell from the black man, who ran stumbling forward, who stopped, who regained his footing, and then stood for an instant as though rooted to the spot. Tom had distinctly seen the knife enter his back, and even thought that he had seen the glint of the point as it came out from the breast. Meantime the pirate captain had stopped, and now stood with his hand resting upon his cane looking impassively on. Then the black man started to run. The white man stood for a while glaring after him; then he, too, started after his victim upon the run. The black man was not very far from Tom when he staggered and fell. He tried to rise, then fell forward again, and lay at length. At that instant the first edge of the cloud cut across the moon, and there was a sudden darkness; but in the silence Tom heard the sound of another blow and a groan, and then presently a voice calling to the pirate captain that it was all over. He saw the dim form of the captain crossing the level sand, and then, as the moon sailed out from behind the cloud, he saw the white man standing over a black figure that lay motionless upon the sand. [Illustration] Then Tom Chist scrambled up and ran away, plunging down into the hollow of sand that lay in the shadows below. Over the next rise he ran, and down again into the next black hollow, and so on over the sliding, shifting ground, panting and gasping. It seemed to him that he could hear footsteps following, and in the terror that possessed him he almost expected every instant to feel the cold knife blade slide between his own ribs in such a thrust from behind as he had seen given to the poor black man. [Illustration] So he ran on like one in a nightmare. His feet grew heavy like lead, he panted and gasped, his breath came hot and dry in his throat. But still he ran and ran until at last he found himself in front of old Matt Abrahamson's cabin, gasping, panting, and sobbing for breath, his knees relaxed and his thighs trembling with weakness. As he opened the door and dashed into the darkened cabin (for both Matt and Molly were long ago asleep in bed) there was a flash of light, and even as he slammed to the door behind him there was an instant peal of thunder, heavy as though a great weight had been dropped upon the roof of the sky, so that the doors and windows of the cabin rattled. IV Then Tom Chist crept to bed, trembling, shuddering, bathed in sweat, his heart beating like a trip hammer, and his brain dizzy from that long, terror-inspired race through the soft sand in which he had striven to outstrip he knew not what pursuing horror. For a long, long time he lay awake, trembling and chattering with nervous chills, and when he did fall asleep it was only to drop into monstrous dreams in which he once again saw ever enacted, with various grotesque variations, the tragic drama which his waking eyes had beheld the night before. Then came the dawning of the broad, wet daylight, and before the rising of the sun Tom was up and out of doors to find the young day dripping with the rain of overnight. His first act was to climb the nearest sand hill and to gaze out toward the offing where the pirate ship had been the day before. It was no longer there. Soon afterward Matt Abrahamson came out of the cabin and he called to Tom to go get a bite to eat, for it was time for them to be away fishing. All that morning the recollection of the night before hung over Tom Chist like a great cloud of boding trouble. It filled the confined area of the little boat and spread over the entire wide spaces of sky and sea that surrounded them. Not for a moment was it lifted. Even when he was hauling in his wet and dripping line with a struggling fish at the end of it a recurrent memory of what he had seen would suddenly come upon him, and he would groan in spirit at the recollection. He looked at Matt Abrahamson's leathery face, at his lantern jaws cavernously and stolidly chewing at a tobacco leaf, and it seemed monstrous to him that the old man should be so unconscious of the black cloud that wrapped them all about. When the boat reached the shore again he leaped scrambling to the beach, and as soon as his dinner was eaten he hurried away to find the Dominie Jones. He ran all the way from Abrahamson's hut to the parson's house, hardly stopping once, and when he knocked at the door he was panting and sobbing for breath. The good man was sitting on the back-kitchen doorstep smoking his long pipe of tobacco out into the sunlight, while his wife within was rattling about among the pans and dishes in preparation of their supper, of which a strong, porky smell already filled the air. Then Tom Chist told his story, panting, hurrying, tumbling one word over another in his haste, and Parson Jones listened, breaking every now and then into an ejaculation of wonder. The light in his pipe went out and the bowl turned cold. "And I don't see why they should have killed the poor black man," said Tom, as he finished his narrative. "Why, that is very easy enough to understand," said the good reverend man. "'Twas a treasure box they buried!" In his agitation Mr. Jones had risen from his seat and was now stumping up and down, puffing at his empty tobacco pipe as though it were still alight. "A treasure box!" cried out Tom. "Aye, a treasure box! And that was why they killed the poor black man. He was the only one, d'ye see, besides they two who knew the place where 'twas hid, and now that they've killed him out of the way, there's nobody but themselves knows. The villains--Tut, tut, look at that now!" In his excitement the dominie had snapped the stem of his tobacco pipe in two. "Why, then," said Tom, "if that is so, 'tis indeed a wicked, bloody treasure, and fit to bring a curse upon anybody who finds it!" "'Tis more like to bring a curse upon the soul who buried it," said Parson Jones, "and it may be a blessing to him who finds it. But tell me, Tom, do you think you could find the place again where 'twas hid?" "I can't tell that," said Tom, "'twas all in among the sand humps, d'ye see, and it was at night into the bargain. Maybe we could find the marks of their feet in the sand," he added. "'Tis not likely," said the reverend gentleman, "for the storm last night would have washed all that away." "I could find the place," said Tom, "where the boat was drawn up on the beach." "Why, then, that's something to start from, Tom," said his friend. "If we can find that, then maybe we can find whither they went from there." "If I was certain it was a treasure box," cried out Tom Chist, "I would rake over every foot of sand betwixt here and Henlopen to find it." "'Twould be like hunting for a pin in a haystack," said the Rev. Hilary Jones. As Tom walked away home, it seemed as though a ton's weight of gloom had been rolled away from his soul. The next day he and Parson Jones were to go treasure-hunting together; it seemed to Tom as though he could hardly wait for the time to come. V The next afternoon Parson Jones and Tom Chist started off together upon the expedition that made Tom's fortune forever. Tom carried a spade over his shoulder and the reverend gentleman walked along beside him with his cane. As they jogged along up the beach they talked together about the only thing they could talk about--the treasure box. "And how big did you say 'twas?" quoth the good gentleman. "About so long," said Tom Chist, measuring off upon the spade, "and about so wide, and this deep." "And what if it should be full of money, Tom?" said the reverend gentleman, swinging his cane around and around in wide circles in the excitement of the thought, as he strode along briskly. "Suppose it should be full of money, what then?" "By Moses!" said Tom Chist, hurrying to keep up with his friend, "I'd buy a ship for myself, I would, and I'd trade to Injy and to Chiny to my own boot, I would. Suppose the chist was all full of money, sir, and suppose we should find it; would there be enough in it, d'ye suppose, to buy a ship?" "To be sure there would be enough, Tom; enough and to spare, and a good big lump over." "And if I find it 'tis mine to keep, is it, and no mistake?" "Why, to be sure it would be yours!" cried out the parson, in a loud voice. "To be sure it would be yours!" He knew nothing of the law, but the doubt of the question began at once to ferment in his brain, and he strode along in silence for a while. "Whose else would it be but yours if you find it?" he burst out. "Can you tell me that?" "If ever I have a ship of my own," said Tom Chist, "and if ever I sail to Injy in her, I'll fetch ye back the best chist of tea, sir, that ever was fetched from Cochin Chiny." Parson Jones burst out laughing. "Thankee, Tom," he said; "and I'll thankee again when I get my chist of tea. But tell me, Tom, didst thou ever hear of the farmer girl who counted her chickens before they were hatched?" It was thus they talked as they hurried along up the beach together, and so came to a place at last where Tom stopped short and stood looking about him. "'Twas just here," he said, "I saw the boat last night. I know 'twas here, for I mind me of that bit of wreck yonder, and that there was a tall stake drove in the sand just where yon stake stands." Parson Jones put on his spectacles and went over to the stake toward which Tom pointed. As soon as he had looked at it carefully he called out: "Why, Tom, this hath been just drove down into the sand. 'Tis a brand-new stake of wood, and the pirates must have set it here themselves as a mark, just as they drove the pegs you spoke about down into the sand." Tom came over and looked at the stake. It was a stout piece of oak nearly two inches thick; it had been shaped with some care, and the top of it had been painted red. He shook the stake and tried to move it, but it had been driven or planted so deeply into the sand that he could not stir it. "Aye, sir," he said, "it must have been set here for a mark, for I'm sure 'twas not here yesterday or the day before." He stood looking about him to see if there were other signs of the pirates' presence. At some little distance there was the corner of something white sticking up out of the sand. He could see that it was a scrap of paper, and he pointed to it, calling out: "Yonder is a piece of paper, sir. I wonder if they left that behind them?" [Illustration: EXTORTING TRIBUTE FROM THE CITIZENS] It was a miraculous chance that placed that paper there. There was only an inch of it showing, and if it had not been for Tom's sharp eyes, it would certainly have been overlooked and passed by. The next windstorm would have covered it up, and all that afterward happened never would have occurred. "Look, sir," he said, as he struck the sand from it, "it hath writing on it." "Let me see it," said Parson Jones. He adjusted the spectacles a little more firmly astride of his nose as he took the paper in his hand and began conning it. "What's all this?" he said; "a whole lot of figures and nothing else." And then he read aloud, "'Mark--S. S. W. S. by S.' What d'ye suppose that means, Tom?" "I don't know, sir," said Tom. "But maybe we can understand it better if you read on." "'Tis all a great lot of figures," said Parson Jones, "without a grain of meaning in them so far as I can see, unless they be sailing directions." And then he began reading again: "'Mark--S. S. W. by S. 40, 72, 91, 130, 151, 177, 202, 232, 256, 271'--d'ye see, it must be sailing directions--'299, 335, 362, 386, 415, 446, 469, 491, 522, 544, 571, 598'--what a lot of them there be--'626, 652, 676, 695, 724, 851, 876, 905, 940, 967. Peg. S. E. by E. 269 foot. Peg. S. S. W. by S. 427 foot. Peg. Dig to the west of this six foot.'" "What's that about a peg?" exclaimed Tom. "What's that about a peg? And then there's something about digging, too!" It was as though a sudden light began shining into his brain. He felt himself growing quickly very excited. "Read that over again, sir," he cried. "Why, sir, you remember I told you they drove a peg into the sand. And don't they say to dig close to it? Read it over again, sir--read it over again!" "Peg?" said the good gentleman. "To be sure it was about a peg. Let's look again. Yes, here it is. 'Peg S. E. by E. 269 foot.'" "Aye!" cried out Tom Chist again, in great excitement. "Don't you remember what I told you, sir, 269 foot? Sure that must be what I saw 'em measuring with the line." Parson Jones had now caught the flame of excitement that was blazing up so strongly in Tom's breast. He felt as though some wonderful thing was about to happen to them. "To be sure, to be sure!" he called out, in a great big voice. "And then they measured out 427 foot south-southwest by south, and they then drove another peg, and then they buried the box six foot to the west of it. Why, Tom--why, Tom Chist! if we've read this aright, thy fortune is made." Tom Chist stood staring straight at the old gentleman's excited face, and seeing nothing but it in all the bright infinity of sunshine. Were they, indeed, about to find the treasure chest? He felt the sun very hot upon his shoulders, and he heard the harsh, insistent jarring of a tern that hovered and circled with forked tail and sharp white wings in the sunlight just above their heads; but all the time he stood staring into the good old gentleman's face. It was Parson Jones who first spoke. "But what do all these figures mean?" And Tom observed how the paper shook and rustled in the tremor of excitement that shook his hand. He raised the paper to the focus of his spectacles and began to read again. "'Mark 40, 72, 91--'" "Mark?" cried out Tom, almost screaming. "Why, that must mean the stake yonder; that must be the mark." And he pointed to the oaken stick with its red tip blazing against the white shimmer of sand behind it. "And the 40 and 72 and 91," cried the old gentleman, in a voice equally shrill--"why, that must mean the number of steps the pirate was counting when you heard him." "To be sure that's what they mean!" cried Tom Chist. "That is it, and it can be nothing else. Oh, come, sir--come, sir; let us make haste and find it!" "Stay! stay!" said the good gentleman, holding up his hand; and again Tom Chist noticed how it trembled and shook. His voice was steady enough, though very hoarse, but his hand shook and trembled as though with a palsy. "Stay! stay! First of all, we must follow these measurements. And 'tis a marvelous thing," he croaked, after a little pause, "how this paper ever came to be here." "Maybe it was blown here by the storm," suggested Tom Chist. "Like enough; like enough," said Parson Jones. "Like enough, after the wretches had buried the chest and killed the poor black man, they were so buffeted and bowsed about by the storm that it was shook out of the man's pocket, and thus blew away from him without his knowing aught of it." "But let us find the box!" cried out Tom Chist, flaming with his excitement. "Aye, aye," said the good man; "only stay a little, my boy, until we make sure what we're about. I've got my pocket compass here, but we must have something to measure off the feet when we have found the peg. You run across to Tom Brooke's house and fetch that measuring rod he used to lay out his new byre. While you're gone I'll pace off the distance marked on the paper with my pocket compass here." VI Tom Chist was gone for almost an hour, though he ran nearly all the way and back, upborne as on the wings of the wind. When he returned, panting, Parson Jones was nowhere to be seen, but Tom saw his footsteps leading away inland, and he followed the scuffling marks in the smooth surface across the sand humps and down into the hollows, and by and by found the good gentleman in a spot he at once knew as soon as he laid his eyes upon it. It was the open space where the pirates had driven their first peg, and where Tom Chist had afterward seen them kill the poor black man. Tom Chist gazed around as though expecting to see some sign of the tragedy, but the space was as smooth and as undisturbed as a floor, excepting where, midway across it, Parson Jones, who was now stooping over something on the ground, had trampled it all around about. When Tom Chist saw him he was still bending over, scraping away from something he had found. It was the first peg! Inside of half an hour they had found the second and third pegs, and Tom Chist stripped off his coat, and began digging like mad down into the sand, Parson Jones standing over him watching him. The sun was sloping well toward the west when the blade of Tom Chist's spade struck upon something hard. If it had been his own heart that he had hit in the sand his breast could hardly have thrilled more sharply. It was the treasure box! [Illustration] Parson Jones himself leaped down into the hole, and began scraping away the sand with his hands as though he had gone crazy. At last, with some difficulty, they tugged and hauled the chest up out of the sand to the surface, where it lay covered all over with the grit that clung to it. It was securely locked and fastened with a padlock, and it took a good many blows with the blade of the spade to burst the bolt. Parson Jones himself lifted the lid. Tom Chist leaned forward and gazed down into the open box. He would not have been surprised to have seen it filled full of yellow gold and bright jewels. It was filled half full of books and papers, and half full of canvas bags tied safely and securely around and around with cords of string. Parson Jones lifted out one of the bags, and it jingled as he did so. It was full of money. He cut the string, and with trembling, shaking hands handed the bag to Tom, who, in an ecstasy of wonder and dizzy with delight, poured out with swimming sight upon the coat spread on the ground a cataract of shining silver money that rang and twinkled and jingled as it fell in a shining heap upon the coarse cloth. Parson Jones held up both hands into the air, and Tom stared at what he saw, wondering whether it was all so, and whether he was really awake. It seemed to him as though he was in a dream. There were two-and-twenty bags in all in the chest: ten of them full of silver money, eight of them full of gold money, three of them full of gold dust, and one small bag with jewels wrapped up in wad cotton and paper. "'Tis enough," cried out Parson Jones, "to make us both rich men as long as we live." The burning summer sun, though sloping in the sky, beat down upon them as hot as fire; but neither of them noticed it. Neither did they notice hunger nor thirst nor fatigue, but sat there as though in a trance, with the bags of money scattered on the sand around them, a great pile of money heaped upon the coat, and the open chest beside them. It was an hour of sundown before Parson Jones had begun fairly to examine the books and papers in the chest. Of the three books, two were evidently log books of the pirates who had been lying off the mouth of the Delaware Bay all this time. The other book was written in Spanish, and was evidently the log book of some captured prize. It was then, sitting there upon the sand, the good old gentleman reading in his high, cracking voice, that they first learned from the bloody records in those two books who it was who had been lying inside the Cape all this time, and that it was the famous Captain Kidd. Every now and then the reverend gentleman would stop to exclaim, "Oh, the bloody wretch!" or, "Oh, the desperate, cruel villains!" and then would go on reading again a scrap here and a scrap there. And all the while Tom Chist sat and listened, every now and then reaching out furtively and touching the heap of money still lying upon the coat. One might be inclined to wonder why Captain Kidd had kept those bloody records. He had probably laid them away because they so incriminated many of the great people of the colony of New York that, with the books in evidence, it would have been impossible to bring the pirate to justice without dragging a dozen or more fine gentlemen into the dock along with him. If he could have kept them in his own possession they would doubtless have been a great weapon of defense to protect him from the gallows. Indeed, when Captain Kidd was finally brought to conviction and hung, he was not accused of his piracies, but of striking a mutinous seaman upon the head with a bucket and accidentally killing him. The authorities did not dare try him for piracy. He was really hung because he was a pirate, and we know that it was the log books that Tom Chist brought to New York that did the business for him; he was accused and convicted of manslaughter for killing of his own ship carpenter with a bucket. So Parson Jones, sitting there in the slanting light, read through these terrible records of piracy, and Tom, with the pile of gold and silver money beside him, sat and listened to him. What a spectacle, if anyone had come upon them! But they were alone, with the vast arch of sky empty above them and the wide white stretch of sand a desert around them. The sun sank lower and lower, until there was only time to glance through the other papers in the chest. They were nearly all goldsmiths' bills of exchange drawn in favor of certain of the most prominent merchants of New York. Parson Jones, as he read over the names, knew of nearly all the gentlemen by hearsay. Aye, here was this gentleman; he thought that name would be among 'em. What? Here is Mr. So-and-so. Well, if all they say is true, the villain has robbed one of his own best friends. "I wonder," he said, "why the wretch should have hidden these papers so carefully away with the other treasures, for they could do him no good?" Then, answering his own question: "Like enough because these will give him a hold over the gentlemen to whom they are drawn so that he can make a good bargain for his own neck before he gives the bills back to their owners. I tell you what it is, Tom," he continued, "it is you yourself shall go to New York and bargain for the return of these papers. 'Twill be as good as another fortune to you." The majority of the bills were drawn in favor of one Richard Chillingsworth, Esquire. "And he is," said Parson Jones, "one of the richest men in the province of New York. You shall go to him with the news of what we have found." "When shall I go?" said Tom Chist. "You shall go upon the very first boat we can catch," said the parson. He had turned, still holding the bills in his hand, and was now fingering over the pile of money that yet lay tumbled out upon the coat. "I wonder, Tom," said he, "if you could spare me a score or so of these doubloons?" "You shall have fifty score, if you choose," said Tom, bursting with gratitude and with generosity in his newly found treasure. "You are as fine a lad as ever I saw, Tom," said the parson, "and I'll thank you to the last day of my life." Tom scooped up a double handful of silver money. "Take it, sir," he said, "and you may have as much more as you want of it." He poured it into the dish that the good man made of his hands, and the parson made a motion as though to empty it into his pocket. Then he stopped, as though a sudden doubt had occurred to him. "I don't know that 'tis fit for me to take this pirate money, after all," he said. "But you are welcome to it," said Tom. Still the parson hesitated. "Nay," he burst out, "I'll not take it; 'tis blood money." And as he spoke he chucked the whole double handful into the now empty chest, then arose and dusted the sand from his breeches. Then, with a great deal of bustling energy, he helped to tie the bags again and put them all back into the chest. They reburied the chest in the place whence they had taken it, and then the parson folded the precious paper of directions, placed it carefully in his wallet, and his wallet in his pocket. "Tom," he said, for the twentieth time, "your fortune has been made this day." And Tom Chist, as he rattled in his breeches pocket the half dozen doubloons he had kept out of his treasure, felt that what his friend had said was true. * * * * * As the two went back homeward across the level space of sand Tom Chist suddenly stopped stock-still and stood looking about him. "'Twas just here," he said, digging his heel down into the sand, "that they killed the poor black man." [Illustration: "Pirates Used to Do That to Their Captains Now and Then" _Illustration from_ SEA ROBBERS OF NEW YORK _by_ Thomas A. Janvier _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _November, 1894_] "And here he lies buried for all time," said Parson Jones; and as he spoke he dug his cane down into the sand. Tom Chist shuddered. He would not have been surprised if the ferrule of the cane had struck something soft beneath that level surface. But it did not, nor was any sign of that tragedy ever seen again. For, whether the pirates had carried away what they had done and buried it elsewhere, or whether the storm in blowing the sand had completely leveled off and hidden all sign of that tragedy where it was enacted, certain it is that it never came to sight again--at least so far as Tom Chist and the Rev. Hilary Jones ever knew. VII This is the story of the treasure box. All that remains now is to conclude the story of Tom Chist, and to tell of what came of him in the end. He did not go back again to live with old Matt Abrahamson. Parson Jones had now taken charge of him and his fortunes, and Tom did not have to go back to the fisherman's hut. Old Abrahamson talked a great deal about it, and would come in his cups and harangue good Parson Jones, making a vast protestation of what he would do to Tom--if he ever caught him--for running away. But Tom on all these occasions kept carefully out of his way, and nothing came of the old man's threatenings. Tom used to go over to see his foster mother now and then, but always when the old man was from home. And Molly Abrahamson used to warn him to keep out of her father's way. "He's in as vile a humor as ever I see, Tom," she said; "he sits sulking all day long, and 'tis my belief he'd kill ye if he caught ye." Of course Tom said nothing, even to her, about the treasure, and he and the reverend gentleman kept the knowledge thereof to themselves. About three weeks later Parson Jones managed to get him shipped aboard of a vessel bound for New York town, and a few days later Tom Chist landed at that place. He had never been in such a town before, and he could not sufficiently wonder and marvel at the number of brick houses, at the multitude of people coming and going along the fine, hard, earthen sidewalk, at the shops and the stores where goods hung in the windows, and, most of all, the fortifications and the battery at the point, at the rows of threatening cannon, and at the scarlet-coated sentries pacing up and down the ramparts. All this was very wonderful, and so were the clustered boats riding at anchor in the harbor. It was like a new world, so different was it from the sand hills and the sedgy levels of Henlopen. Tom Chist took up his lodgings at a coffee house near to the town hall, and thence he sent by the postboy a letter written by Parson Jones to Master Chillingsworth. In a little while the boy returned with a message, asking Tom to come up to Mr. Chillingsworth's house that afternoon at two o'clock. Tom went thither with a great deal of trepidation, and his heart fell away altogether when he found it a fine, grand brick house, three stories high, and with wrought-iron letters across the front. The counting house was in the same building; but Tom, because of Mr. Jones's letter, was conducted directly into the parlor, where the great rich man was awaiting his coming. He was sitting in a leather-covered armchair, smoking a pipe of tobacco, and with a bottle of fine old Madeira close to his elbow. Tom had not had a chance to buy a new suit of clothes yet, and so he cut no very fine figure in the rough dress he had brought with him from Henlopen. Nor did Mr. Chillingsworth seem to think very highly of his appearance, for he sat looking sideways at Tom as he smoked. "Well, my lad," he said, "and what is this great thing you have to tell me that is so mightily wonderful? I got what's-his-name--Mr. Jones's--letter, and now I am ready to hear what you have to say." But if he thought but little of his visitor's appearance at first, he soon changed his sentiments toward him, for Tom had not spoken twenty words when Mr. Chillingsworth's whole aspect changed. He straightened himself up in his seat, laid aside his pipe, pushed away his glass of Madeira, and bade Tom take a chair. He listened without a word as Tom Chist told of the buried treasure, of how he had seen the poor negro murdered, and of how he and Parson Jones had recovered the chest again. Only once did Mr. Chillingsworth interrupt the narrative. "And to think," he cried, "that the villain this very day walks about New York town as though he were an honest man, ruffling it with the best of us! But if we can only get hold of these log books you speak of. Go on; tell me more of this." When Tom Chist's narrative was ended, Mr. Chillingsworth's bearing was as different as daylight is from dark. He asked a thousand questions, all in the most polite and gracious tone imaginable, and not only urged a glass of his fine old Madeira upon Tom, but asked him to stay to supper. There was nobody to be there, he said, but his wife and daughter. Tom, all in a panic at the very thought of the two ladies, sturdily refused to stay even for the dish of tea Mr. Chillingsworth offered him. He did not know that he was destined to stay there as long as he should live. "And now," said Mr. Chillingsworth, "tell me about yourself." "I have nothing to tell, Your Honor," said Tom, "except that I was washed up out of the sea." "Washed up out of the sea!" exclaimed Mr. Chillingsworth. "Why, how was that? Come, begin at the beginning, and tell me all." Thereupon Tom Chist did as he was bidden, beginning at the very beginning and telling everything just as Molly Abrahamson had often told it to him. As he continued, Mr. Chillingsworth's interest changed into an appearance of stronger and stronger excitement. Suddenly he jumped up out of his chair and began to walk up and down the room. [Illustration] "Stop! stop!" he cried out at last, in the midst of something Tom was saying. "Stop! stop! Tell me; do you know the name of the vessel that was wrecked, and from which you were washed ashore?" "I've heard it said," said Tom Chist, "'twas the _Bristol Merchant_." "I knew it! I knew it!" exclaimed the great man, in a loud voice, flinging his hands up into the air. "I felt it was so the moment you began the story. But tell me this, was there nothing found with you with a mark or a name upon it?" "There was a kerchief," said Tom, "marked with a T and a C." "Theodosia Chillingsworth!" cried out the merchant. "I knew it! I knew it! Heavens! to think of anything so wonderful happening as this! Boy! boy! dost thou know who thou art? Thou art my own brother's son. His name was Oliver Chillingsworth, and he was my partner in business, and thou art his son." Then he ran out into the entryway, shouting and calling for his wife and daughter to come. * * * * * So Tom Chist--or Thomas Chillingsworth, as he now was to be called--did stay to supper, after all. * * * * * This is the story, and I hope you may like it. For Tom Chist became rich and great, as was to be supposed, and he married his pretty cousin Theodosia (who had been named for his own mother, drowned in the _Bristol Merchant_). He did not forget his friends, but had Parson Jones brought to New York to live. As to Molly and Matt Abrahamson, they both enjoyed a pension of ten pounds a year for as long as they lived; for now that all was well with him, Tom bore no grudge against the old fisherman for all the drubbings he had suffered. The treasure box was brought on to New York, and if Tom Chist did not get all the money there was in it (as Parson Jones had opined he would) he got at least a good big lump of it. And it is my belief that those log books did more to get Captain Kidd arrested in Boston town and hanged in London than anything else that was brought up against him. [Illustration] Chapter V JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES I We, of these times, protected as we are by the laws and by the number of people about us, can hardly comprehend such a life as that of the American colonies in the early part of the eighteenth century, when it was possible for a pirate like Capt. Teach, known as Blackbeard, to exist, and for the governor and the secretary of the province in which he lived perhaps to share his plunder, and to shelter and to protect him against the law. At that time the American colonists were in general a rough, rugged people, knowing nothing of the finer things of life. They lived mostly in little settlements, separated by long distances from one another, so that they could neither make nor enforce laws to protect themselves. Each man or little group of men had to depend upon his or their own strength to keep what belonged to them, and to prevent fierce men or groups of men from seizing what did not belong to them. It is the natural disposition of everyone to get all that he can. Little children, for instance, always try to take away from others that which they want, and to keep it for their own. It is only by constant teaching that they learn that they must not do so; that they must not take by force what does not belong to them. So it is only by teaching and training that people learn to be honest and not to take what is not theirs. When this teaching is not sufficient to make a man learn to be honest, or when there is something in the man's nature that makes him not able to learn, then he only lacks the opportunity to seize upon the things he wants, just as he would do if he were a little child. In the colonies at that time, as was just said, men were too few and scattered to protect themselves against those who had made up their minds to take by force that which they wanted, and so it was that men lived an unrestrained and lawless life, such as we of these times of better government can hardly comprehend. The usual means of commerce between province and province was by water in coasting vessels. These coasting vessels were so defenseless, and the different colonial governments were so ill able to protect them, that those who chose to rob them could do it almost without danger to themselves. So it was that all the western world was, in those days, infested with armed bands of cruising freebooters or pirates, who used to stop merchant vessels and take from them what they chose. Each province in those days was ruled over by a royal governor appointed by the king. Each governor, at one time, was free to do almost as he pleased in his own province. He was accountable only to the king and his government, and England was so distant that he was really responsible almost to nobody but himself. The governors were naturally just as desirous to get rich quickly, just as desirous of getting all that they could for themselves, as was anybody else--only they had been taught and had been able to learn that it was not right to be an actual pirate or robber. They wanted to be rich easily and quickly, but the desire was not strong enough to lead them to dishonor themselves in their own opinion and in the opinion of others by gratifying their selfishness. They would even have stopped the pirates from doing what they did if they could, but their provincial governments were too weak to prevent the freebooters from robbing merchant vessels, or to punish them when they came ashore. The provinces had no navies, and they really had no armies; neither were there enough people living within the community to enforce the laws against those stronger and fiercer men who were not honest. After the things the pirates seized from merchant vessels were once stolen they were altogether lost. Almost never did any owner apply for them, for it would be useless to do so. The stolen goods and merchandise lay in the storehouses of the pirates, seemingly without any owner excepting the pirates themselves. The governors and the secretaries of the colonies would not dishonor themselves by pirating upon merchant vessels, but it did not seem so wicked after the goods were stolen--and so altogether lost--to take a part of that which seemed to have no owner. A child is taught that it is a very wicked thing to take, for instance, by force, a lump of sugar from another child; but when a wicked child has seized the sugar from another and taken it around the corner, and that other child from whom he has seized it has gone home crying, it does not seem so wicked for the third child to take a bite of the sugar when it is offered to him, even if he thinks it has been taken from some one else. It was just so, no doubt, that it did not seem so wicked to Governor Eden and Secretary Knight of North Carolina, or to Governor Fletcher of New York, or to other colonial governors, to take a part of the booty that the pirates, such as Blackbeard, had stolen. It did not even seem very wicked to compel such pirates to give up a part of what was not theirs, and which seemed to have no owner. In Governor Eden's time, however, the colonies had begun to be more thickly peopled, and the laws had gradually become stronger and stronger to protect men in the possession of what was theirs. Governor Eden was the last of the colonial governors who had dealings with the pirates, and Blackbeard was almost the last of the pirates who, with his banded men, was savage and powerful enough to come and go as he chose among the people whom he plundered. Virginia, at that time, was the greatest and the richest of all the American colonies, and upon the farther side of North Carolina was the province of South Carolina, also strong and rich. It was these two colonies that suffered the most from Blackbeard, and it began to be that the honest men that lived in them could endure no longer to be plundered. The merchants and traders and others who suffered cried out loudly for protection, so loudly that the governors of these provinces could not help hearing them. Governor Eden was petitioned to act against the pirates, but he would do nothing, for he felt very friendly toward Blackbeard--just as a child who has had a taste of the stolen sugar feels friendly toward the child who gives it to him. At last, when Blackbeard sailed up into the very heart of Virginia, and seized upon and carried away the daughter of that colony's foremost people, the governor of Virginia, finding that the governor of North Carolina would do nothing to punish the outrage, took the matter into his own hands and issued a proclamation offering a reward of one hundred pounds for Blackbeard, alive or dead, and different sums for the other pirates who were his followers. Governor Spottiswood had the right to issue the proclamation, but he had no right to commission Lieutenant Maynard, as he did, to take down an armed force into the neighboring province and to attack the pirates in the waters of the North Carolina sounds. It was all a part of the rude and lawless condition of the colonies at the time that such a thing could have been done. [Illustration: "Jack Followed the Captain and the Young Lady up the Crooked Path to the House" _Illustration from_ JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published by_ The Century Company, 1894] The governor's proclamation against the pirates was issued upon the eleventh day of November. It was read in the churches the Sunday following and was posted upon the doors of all the government custom offices in lower Virginia. Lieutenant Maynard, in the boats that Colonel Parker had already fitted out to go against the pirates, set sail upon the seventeenth of the month for Ocracoke. Five days later the battle was fought. * * * * * Blackbeard's sloop was lying inside of Ocracoke Inlet among the shoals and sand bars when he first heard of Governor Spottiswood's proclamation. There had been a storm, and a good many vessels had run into the inlet for shelter. Blackbeard knew nearly all of the captains of these vessels, and it was from them that he first heard of the proclamation. He had gone aboard one of the vessels--a coaster from Boston. The wind was still blowing pretty hard from the southeast. There were maybe a dozen vessels lying within the inlet at that time, and the captain of one of them was paying the Boston skipper a visit when Blackbeard came aboard. The two captains had been talking together. They instantly ceased when the pirate came down into the cabin, but he had heard enough of their conversation to catch its drift. "Why d'ye stop?" he said. "I heard what you said. Well, what then? D'ye think I mind it at all? Spottiswood is going to send his bullies down here after me. That's what you were saying. Well, what then? You don't think I'm afraid of his bullies, do you?" "Why, no, Captain, I didn't say you was afraid," said the visiting captain. "And what right has he got to send down here against me in North Carolina, I should like to ask you?" "He's got none at all," said the Boston captain, soothingly. "Won't you take a taste of Hollands, Captain?" "He's no more right to come blustering down here into Governor Eden's province than I have to come aboard of your schooner here, Tom Burley, and to carry off two or three kegs of this prime Hollands for my own drinking." Captain Burley--the Boston man--laughed a loud, forced laugh. "Why, Captain," he said, "as for two or three kegs of Hollands, you won't find that aboard. But if you'd like to have a keg of it for your own drinking, I'll send it to you and be glad enough to do so for old acquaintance' sake." "But I tell you what 'tis, Captain," said the visiting skipper to Blackbeard, "they're determined and set against you this time. I tell you, Captain, Governor Spottiswood hath issued a hot proclamation against you, and 't hath been read out in all the churches. I myself saw it posted in Yorktown upon the customhouse door and read it there myself. The governor offers one hundred pounds for you, and fifty pounds for your officers, and twenty pounds each for your men." "Well, then," said Blackbeard, holding up his glass, "here, I wish 'em good luck, and when they get their hundred pounds for me they'll be in a poor way to spend it. As for the Hollands," said he, turning to Captain Burley, "I know what you've got aboard here and what you haven't. D'ye suppose ye can blind me? Very well, you send over two kegs, and I'll let you go without search." The two captains were very silent. "As for that Lieutenant Maynard you're all talking about," said Blackbeard, "why, I know him very well. He was the one who was so busy with the pirates down Madagascar way. I believe you'd all like to see him blow me out of the water, but he can't do it. There's nobody in His Majesty's service I'd rather meet than Lieutenant Maynard. I'd teach him pretty briskly that North Carolina isn't Madagascar." * * * * * On the evening of the twenty-second the two vessels under command of Lieutenant Maynard came into the mouth of Ocracoke Inlet and there dropped anchor. Meantime the weather had cleared, and all the vessels but one had gone from the inlet. The one vessel that remained was a New Yorker. It had been there over a night and a day, and the captain and Blackbeard had become very good friends. The same night that Maynard came into the inlet a wedding was held on the shore. A number of men and women came up the beach in oxcarts and sledges; others had come in boats from more distant points and across the water. The captain of the New Yorker and Blackbeard went ashore together a little after dark. The New Yorker had been aboard of the pirate's sloop for all the latter part of the afternoon, and he and Blackbeard had been drinking together in the cabin. The New York man was now a little tipsy, and he laughed and talked foolishly as he and Blackbeard were rowed ashore. The pirate sat grim and silent. It was nearly dark when they stepped ashore on the beach. The New York captain stumbled and fell headlong, rolling over and over, and the crew of the boat burst out laughing. The people had already begun to dance in an open shed fronting upon the shore. There were fires of pine knots in front of the building, lighting up the interior with a red glare. A negro was playing a fiddle somewhere inside, and the shed was filled with a crowd of grotesque dancing figures--men and women. Now and then they called with loud voices as they danced, and the squeaking of the fiddle sounded incessantly through the noise of outcries and the stamp and shuffling of feet. Captain Teach and the New York captain stood looking on. The New York man had tilted himself against a post and stood there holding one arm around it, supporting himself. He waved the other hand foolishly in time to the music, now and then snapping his thumb and finger. The young woman who had just been married approached the two. She had been dancing, and she was warm and red, her hair blowzed about her head. "Hi, Captain, won't you dance with me?" she said to Blackbeard. Blackbeard stared at her. "Who be you?" he said. She burst out laughing. "You look as if you'd eat a body," she cried. Blackbeard's face gradually relaxed. "Why, to be sure, you're a brazen one, for all the world," he said. "Well, I'll dance with you, that I will. I'll dance the heart out of you." He pushed forward, thrusting aside with his elbow the newly made husband. The man, who saw that Blackbeard had been drinking, burst out laughing, and the other men and women who had been standing around drew away, so that in a little while the floor was pretty well cleared. One could see the negro now; he sat on a barrel at the end of the room. He grinned with his white teeth and, without stopping in his fiddling, scraped his bow harshly across the strings, and then instantly changed the tune to a lively jig. Blackbeard jumped up into the air and clapped his heels together, giving, as he did so, a sharp, short yell. Then he began instantly dancing grotesquely and violently. The woman danced opposite to him, this way and that, with her knuckles on her hips. Everybody burst out laughing at Blackbeard's grotesque antics. They laughed again and again, clapping their hands, and the negro scraped away on his fiddle like fury. The woman's hair came tumbling down her back. She tucked it back, laughing and panting, and the sweat ran down her face. She danced and danced. At last she burst out laughing and stopped, panting. Blackbeard again jumped up in the air and clapped his heels. Again he yelled, and as he did so, he struck his heels upon the floor and spun around. Once more everybody burst out laughing, clapping their hands, and the negro stopped fiddling. [Illustration: "He Led Jack up to a Man Who Sat upon a Barrel" _Illustration from_ JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published by_ The Century Company. 1894] Near by was a shanty or cabin where they were selling spirits, and by and by Blackbeard went there with the New York captain, and presently they began drinking again. "Hi, Captain!" called one of the men, "Maynard's out yonder in the inlet. Jack Bishop's just come across from t'other side. He says Mr. Maynard hailed him and asked for a pilot to fetch him in." "Well, here's luck to him, and he can't come in quick enough for me!" cried out Blackbeard in his hoarse, husky voice. "Well, Captain," called a voice, "will ye fight him to-morrow?" "Aye," shouted the pirate, "if he can get in to me, I'll try to give 'em what they seek, and all they want of it into the bargain. As for a pilot, I tell ye what 'tis--if any man hereabouts goes out there to pilot that villain in 'twill be the worst day's work he ever did in all of his life. 'Twon't be fit for him to live in these parts of America if I am living here at the same time." There was a burst of laughter. "Give us a toast, Captain! Give us something to drink to! Aye, Captain, a toast! A toast!" a half dozen voices were calling out at the same time. "Well," cried out the pirate captain, "here's to a good, hot fight to-morrow, and the best dog on top! 'Twill be, Bang! bang!--this way!" He began pulling a pistol out of his pocket, but it stuck in the lining, and he struggled and tugged at it. The men ducked and scrambled away from before him, and then the next moment he had the pistol out of his pocket. He swung it around and around. There was perfect silence. Suddenly there was a flash and a stunning report, and instantly a crash and tinkle of broken glass. One of the men cried out, and began picking and jerking at the back of his neck. "He's broken that bottle all down my neck," he called out. "That's the way 'twill be," said Blackbeard. "Lookee," said the owner of the place, "I won't serve out another drop if 'tis going to be like that. If there's any more trouble I'll blow out the lantern." The sound of the squeaking and scraping of the fiddle and the shouts and the scuffling feet still came from the shed where the dancing was going on. "Suppose you get your dose to-morrow, Captain," some one called out, "what then?" "Why, if I do," said Blackbeard, "I get it, and that's all there is of it." "Your wife 'll be a rich widdy then, won't she?" cried one of the men; and there was a burst of laughter. "Why," said the New York captain,--"why, has a--a bloody p-pirate like you a wife then--a--like any honest man?" "She'll be no richer than she is now," said Blackbeard. "She knows where you've hid your money, anyways. Don't she, Captain?" called out a voice. "The divil knows where I've hid my money," said Blackbeard, "and I know where I've hid it; and the longest liver of the twain will git it all. And that's all there is of it." The gray of early day was beginning to show in the east when Blackbeard and the New York captain came down to the landing together. The New York captain swayed and toppled this way and that as he walked, now falling against Blackbeard, and now staggering away from him. II Early in the morning--perhaps eight o'clock--Lieutenant Maynard sent a boat from the schooner over to the settlement, which lay some four or five miles distant. A number of men stood lounging on the landing, watching the approach of the boat. The men rowed close up to the wharf, and there lay upon their oars, while the boatswain of the schooner, who was in command of the boat, stood up and asked if there was any man there who could pilot them over the shoals. Nobody answered, but all stared stupidly at him. After a while one of the men at last took his pipe out of his mouth. "There ben't any pilot here, master," said he; "we ben't pilots." "Why, what a story you do tell!" roared the boatswain. "D'ye suppose I've never been down here before, not to know that every man about here knows the passes of the shoals?" The fellow still held his pipe in his hand. He looked at another one of the men. "Do you know the passes in over the shoals, Jem?" said he. The man to whom he spoke was a young fellow with long, shaggy, sunburnt hair hanging over his eyes in an unkempt mass. He shook his head, grunting, "Na--I don't know naught about t' shoals." "'Tis Lieutenant Maynard of His Majesty's navy in command of them vessels out there," said the boatswain. "He'll give any man five pound to pilot him in." The men on the wharf looked at one another, but still no one spoke, and the boatswain stood looking at them. He saw that they did not choose to answer him. "Why," he said, "I believe you've not got right wits--that's what I believe is the matter with you. Pull me up to the landing, men, and I'll go ashore and see if I can find anybody that's willing to make five pound for such a little bit of piloting as that." After the boatswain had gone ashore the loungers still stood on the wharf, looking down into the boat, and began talking to one another for the men below to hear them. "They're coming in," said one, "to blow poor Blackbeard out of the water." "Aye," said another, "he's so peaceable, too, he is; he'll just lay still and let 'em blow and blow, he will." "There's a young fellow there," said another of the men; "he don't look fit to die yet, he don't. Why, I wouldn't be in his place for a thousand pound." "I do suppose Blackbeard's so afraid he don't know how to see," said the first speaker. At last one of the men in the boat spoke up. "Maybe he don't know how to see," said he, "but maybe we'll blow some daylight into him afore we get through with him." Some more of the settlers had come out from the shore to the end of the wharf, and there was now quite a crowd gathering there, all looking at the men in the boat. "What do them Virginny 'baccy-eaters do down here in Caroliny, anyway?" said one of the newcomers. "They've got no call to be down here in North Caroliny waters." "Maybe you can keep us away from coming, and maybe you can't," said a voice from the boat. "Why," answered the man on the wharf, "we could keep you away easy enough, but you ben't worth the trouble, and that's the truth." There was a heavy iron bolt lying near the edge of the landing. One of the men upon the wharf slyly thrust it out with the end of his foot. It hung for a moment and then fell into the boat below with a crash. "What d'ye mean by that?" roared the man in charge of the boat. "What d'ye mean, ye villains? D'ye mean to stave a hole in us?" "Why," said the man who had pushed it, "you saw 'twasn't done a purpose, didn't you?" "Well, you try it again, and somebody 'll get hurt," said the man in the boat, showing the butt end of his pistol. The men on the wharf began laughing. Just then the boatswain came down from the settlement again, and out along the landing. The threatened turbulence quieted as he approached, and the crowd moved sullenly aside to let him pass. He did not bring any pilot with him, and he jumped down into the stern of the boat, saying, briefly, "Push off." The crowd of loungers stood looking after them as they rowed away, and when the boat was some distance from the landing they burst out into a volley of derisive yells. "The villains!" said the boatswain, "they are all in league together. They wouldn't even let me go up into the settlement to look for a pilot." * * * * * The lieutenant and his sailing master stood watching the boat as it approached. "Couldn't you, then, get a pilot, Baldwin?" said Mr. Maynard, as the boatswain scrambled aboard. "No, I couldn't, sir," said the man. "Either they're all banded together, or else they're all afraid of the villains. They wouldn't even let me go up into the settlement to find one." "Well, then," said Mr. Maynard, "we'll make shift to work in as best we may by ourselves. 'Twill be high tide against one o'clock. We'll run in then with sail as far as we can, and then we'll send you ahead with the boat to sound for a pass, and we'll follow with the sweeps. You know the waters pretty well, you say." "They were saying ashore that the villain hath forty men aboard," said the boatswain.[2] [Footnote 2: The pirate captain had really only twenty-five men aboard of his sloop at the time of the battle.] Lieutenant Maynard's force consisted of thirty-five men in the schooner and twenty-five men in the sloop. He carried neither cannons nor carronades, and neither of his vessels was very well fitted for the purpose for which they were designed. The schooner, which he himself commanded, offered almost no protection to the crew. The rail was not more than a foot high in the waist, and the men on the deck were almost entirely exposed. The rail of the sloop was perhaps a little higher, but it, too, was hardly better adapted for fighting. Indeed, the lieutenant depended more upon the moral force of official authority to overawe the pirates than upon any real force of arms or men. He never believed, until the very last moment, that the pirates would show any real fight. It is very possible that they might not have done so had they not thought that the lieutenant had actually no legal right supporting him in his attack upon them in North Carolina waters. It was about noon when anchor was hoisted, and, with the schooner leading, both vessels ran slowly in before a light wind that had begun to blow toward midday. In each vessel a man stood in the bows, sounding continually with lead and line. As they slowly opened up the harbor within the inlet, they could see the pirate sloop lying about three miles away. There was a boat just putting off from it to the shore. The lieutenant and his sailing master stood together on the roof of the cabin deckhouse. The sailing master held a glass to his eye. "She carries a long gun, sir," he said, "and four carronades. She'll be hard to beat, sir, I do suppose, armed as we are with only light arms for close fighting." The lieutenant laughed. "Why, Brookes," he said, "you seem to think forever of these men showing fight. You don't know them as I know them. They have a deal of bluster and make a deal of noise, but when you seize them and hold them with a strong hand, there's naught of fight left in them. 'Tis like enough there 'll not be so much as a musket fired to-day. I've had to do with 'em often enough before to know my gentlemen well by this time." Nor, as was said, was it until the very last that the lieutenant could be brought to believe that the pirates had any stomach for a fight. The two vessels had reached perhaps within a mile of the pirate sloop before they found the water too shallow to venture any farther with the sail. It was then that the boat was lowered as the lieutenant had planned, and the boatswain went ahead to sound, the two vessels, with their sails still hoisted but empty of wind, pulling in after with sweeps. The pirate had also hoisted sail, but lay as though waiting for the approach of the schooner and the sloop. [Illustration: "The Bullets Were Humming and Singing, Clipping Along the Top of the Water" _Illustration from_ JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published by_ The Century Company, 1894] The boat in which the boatswain was sounding had run in a considerable distance ahead of the two vessels, which were gradually creeping up with the sweeps until they had reached to within less than half a mile of the pirates--the boat with the boatswain maybe a quarter of a mile closer. Suddenly there was a puff of smoke from the pirate sloop, and then another and another, and the next moment there came the three reports of muskets up the wind. "By zounds!" said the lieutenant. "I do believe they're firing on the boat!" And then he saw the boat turn and begin pulling toward them. The boat with the boatswain aboard came rowing rapidly. Again there were three or four puffs of smoke and three or four subsequent reports from the distant vessel. Then, in a little while, the boat was alongside, and the boatswain came scrambling aboard. "Never mind hoisting the boat," said the lieutenant; "we'll just take her in tow. Come aboard as quick as you can." Then, turning to the sailing master, "Well, Brookes, you'll have to do the best you can to get in over the shoals under half sail." "But, sir," said the master, "we'll be sure to run aground." "Very well, sir," said the lieutenant, "you heard my orders. If we run aground we run aground, and that's all there is of it." "I sounded as far as maybe a little over a fathom," said the mate, "but the villains would let me go no nearer. I think I was in the channel, though. 'Tis more open inside, as I mind me of it. There's a kind of a hole there, and if we get in over the shoals just beyond where I was we'll be all right." "Very well, then, you take the wheel, Baldwin," said the lieutenant, "and do the best you can for us." Lieutenant Maynard stood looking out forward at the pirate vessel, which they were now steadily nearing under half sail. He could see that there were signs of bustle aboard and of men running around upon the deck. Then he walked aft and around the cabin. The sloop was some distance astern. It appeared to have run aground, and they were trying to push it off with the sweeps. The lieutenant looked down into the water over the stern, and saw that the schooner was already raising the mud in her wake. Then he went forward along the deck. His men were crouching down along by the low rail, and there was a tense quietness of expectation about them. The lieutenant looked them over as he passed them. "Johnson," he said, "do you take the lead and line and go forward and sound a bit." Then to the others: "Now, my men, the moment we run her aboard, you get aboard of her as quick as you can, do you understand? Don't wait for the sloop or think about her, but just see that the grappling irons are fast, and then get aboard. If any man offers to resist you, shoot him down. Are you ready, Mr. Cringle?" "Aye, aye, sir," said the gunner. "Very well, then, be ready, men; we'll be aboard 'em in a minute or two." "There's less than a fathom of water here, sir," sang out Johnson from the bows. As he spoke there was a sudden soft jar and jerk, then the schooner was still. They were aground. "Push her off to the lee there! Let go your sheets!" roared the boatswain from the wheel. "Push her off to the lee." He spun the wheel around as he spoke. A half a dozen men sprang up, seized the sweeps, and plunged them into the water. Others ran to help them, but the sweeps only sank into the mud without moving the schooner. The sails had fallen off and they were flapping and thumping and clapping in the wind. Others of the crew had scrambled to their feet and ran to help those at the sweeps. The lieutenant had walked quickly aft again. They were very close now to the pirate sloop, and suddenly some one hailed him from aboard of her. When he turned he saw that there was a man standing up on the rail of the pirate sloop, holding by the back stays. "Who are you?" he called, from the distance, "and whence come you? What do you seek here? What d'ye mean, coming down on us this way?" The lieutenant heard somebody say, "That's Blackbeard his-self." And he looked with great interest at the distant figure. The pirate stood out boldly against the cloudy sky. Somebody seemed to speak to him from behind. He turned his head and then he turned round again. "We're only peaceful merchantmen!" he called out. "What authority have you got to come down upon us this way? If you'll come aboard I'll show you my papers and that we're only peaceful merchantmen." "The villains!" said the lieutenant to the master, who stood beside him. "They're peaceful merchantmen, are they! They look like peaceful merchantmen, with four carronades and a long gun aboard!" Then he called out across the water, "I'll come aboard with my schooner as soon as I can push her off here." "If you undertake to come aboard of me," called the pirate, "I'll shoot into you. You've got no authority to board me, and I won't have you do it. If you undertake it 'twill be at your own risk, for I'll neither ask quarter of you nor give none." "Very well," said the lieutenant, "if you choose to try that, you may do as you please; for I'm coming aboard of you as sure as heaven." "Push off the bow there!" called the boatswain at the wheel. "Look alive! Why don't you push off the bow?" "She's hard aground!" answered the gunner. "We can't budge her an inch." "If they was to fire into us now," said the sailing master, "they'd smash us to pieces." "They won't fire into us," said the lieutenant. "They won't dare to." He jumped down from the cabin deckhouse as he spoke, and went forward to urge the men in pushing off the boat. It was already beginning to move. At that moment the sailing master suddenly called out, "Mr. Maynard! Mr. Maynard! they're going to give us a broadside!" Almost before the words were out of his mouth, before Lieutenant Maynard could turn, there came a loud and deafening crash, and then instantly another, and a third, and almost as instantly a crackling and rending of broken wood. There were clean yellow splinters flying everywhere. A man fell violently against the lieutenant, nearly overturning him, but he caught at the stays and so saved himself. For one tense moment he stood holding his breath. Then all about him arose a sudden outcry of groans and shouts and oaths. The man who had fallen against him was lying face down upon the deck. His thighs were quivering, and a pool of blood was spreading and running out from under him. There were other men down, all about the deck. Some were rising; some were trying to rise; some only moved. There was a distant sound of yelling and cheering and shouting. It was from the pirate sloop. The pirates were rushing about upon her decks. They had pulled the cannon back, and, through the grunting sound of the groans about him, the lieutenant could distinctly hear the thud and punch of the rammers, and he knew they were going to shoot again. The low rail afforded almost no shelter against such a broadside, and there was nothing for it but to order all hands below for the time being. "Get below!" roared out the lieutenant. "All hands get below and lie snug for further orders!" In obedience the men ran scrambling below into the hold, and in a little while the decks were nearly clear except for the three dead men and some three or four wounded. The boatswain, crouching down close to the wheel, and the lieutenant himself were the only others upon deck. Everywhere there were smears and sprinkles of blood. "Where's Brookes?" the lieutenant called out. "He's hurt in the arm, sir, and he's gone below," said the boatswain. Thereupon the lieutenant himself walked over to the forecastle hatch, and, hailing the gunner, ordered him to get up another ladder, so that the men could be run up on deck if the pirates should undertake to come aboard. At that moment the boatswain at the wheel called out that the villains were going to shoot again, and the lieutenant, turning, saw the gunner aboard of the pirate sloop in the act of touching the iron to the touchhole. He stooped down. There was another loud and deafening crash of cannon, one, two, three--four--the last two almost together--and almost instantly the boatswain called out, "'Tis the sloop, sir! look at the sloop!" [Illustration: "The Combatants Cut and Slashed with Savage Fury" _Illustration from_ JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published by_ The Century Company, 1894] The sloop had got afloat again, and had been coming up to the aid of the schooner, when the pirates fired their second broadside now at her. When the lieutenant looked at her she was quivering with the impact of the shot, and the next moment she began falling off to the wind, and he could see the wounded men rising and falling and struggling upon her decks. At the same moment the boatswain called out that the enemy was coming aboard, and even as he spoke the pirate sloop came drifting out from the cloud of smoke that enveloped her, looming up larger and larger as she came down upon them. The lieutenant still crouched down under the rail, looking out at them. Suddenly, a little distance away, she came about, broadside on, and then drifted. She was close aboard now. Something came flying through the air--another and another. They were bottles. One of them broke with a crash upon the deck. The others rolled over to the farther rail. In each of them a quick-match was smoking. Almost instantly there was a flash and a terrific report, and the air was full of the whiz and singing of broken particles of glass and iron. There was another report, and then the whole air seemed full of gunpowder smoke. "They're aboard of us!" shouted the boatswain, and even as he spoke the lieutenant roared out, "All hands to repel boarders!" A second later there came the heavy, thumping bump of the vessels coming together. Lieutenant Maynard, as he called out the order, ran forward through the smoke, snatching one of his pistols out of his pocket and the cutlass out of its sheath as he did so. Behind him the men were coming, swarming up from below. There was a sudden stunning report of a pistol, and then another and another, almost together. There was a groan and the fall of a heavy body, and then a figure came jumping over the rail, with two or three more directly following. The lieutenant was in the midst of the gunpowder smoke, when suddenly Blackbeard was before him. The pirate captain had stripped himself naked to the waist. His shaggy black hair was falling over his eyes, and he looked like a demon fresh from the pit, with his frantic face. Almost with the blindness of instinct the lieutenant thrust out his pistol, firing it as he did so. The pirate staggered back: he was down--no; he was up again. He had a pistol in each hand; but there was a stream of blood running down his naked ribs. Suddenly, the mouth of a pistol was pointing straight at the lieutenant's head. He ducked instinctively, striking upward with his cutlass as he did so. There was a stunning, deafening report almost in his ear. He struck again blindly with his cutlass. He saw the flash of a sword and flung up his guard almost instinctively, meeting the crash of the descending blade. Somebody shot from behind him, and at the same moment he saw some one else strike the pirate. Blackbeard staggered again, and this time there was a great gash upon his neck. Then one of Maynard's own men tumbled headlong upon him. He fell with the man, but almost instantly he had scrambled to his feet again, and as he did so he saw that the pirate sloop had drifted a little away from them, and that their grappling irons had evidently parted. His hand was smarting as though struck with the lash of a whip. He looked around him; the pirate captain was nowhere to be seen--yes, there he was, lying by the rail. He raised himself upon his elbow, and the lieutenant saw that he was trying to point a pistol at him, with an arm that wavered and swayed blindly, the pistol nearly falling from his fingers. Suddenly his other elbow gave way and he fell down upon his face. He tried to raise himself--he fell down again. There was a report and a cloud of smoke, and when it cleared away Blackbeard had staggered up again. He was a terrible figure--his head nodding down upon his breast. Somebody shot again, and then the swaying figure toppled and fell. It lay still for a moment--then rolled over--then lay still again. There was a loud splash of men jumping overboard, and then, almost instantly, the cry of "Quarter! quarter!" The lieutenant ran to the edge of the vessel. It was as he had thought: the grappling irons of the pirate sloop had parted, and it had drifted away. The few pirates who had been left aboard of the schooner had jumped overboard and were now holding up their hands. "Quarter!" they cried. "Don't shoot!--quarter!" And the fight was over. The lieutenant looked down at his hand, and then he saw, for the first time, that there was a great cutlass gash across the back of it, and that his arm and shirt sleeve were wet with blood. He went aft, holding the wrist of his wounded hand. The boatswain was still at the wheel. "By zounds!" said the lieutenant, with a nervous, quavering laugh, "I didn't know there was such fight in the villains." His wounded and shattered sloop was again coming up toward him under sail, but the pirates had surrendered, and the fight was over. Chapter VI BLUESKIN, THE PIRATE I Cape May and Cape Henlopen form, as it were, the upper and lower jaws of a gigantic mouth, which disgorges from its monstrous gullet the cloudy waters of the Delaware Bay into the heaving, sparkling blue-green of the Atlantic Ocean. From Cape Henlopen as the lower jaw there juts out a long, curving fang of high, smooth-rolling sand dunes, cutting sharp and clean against the still, blue sky above--silent, naked, utterly deserted, excepting for the squat, white-walled lighthouse standing upon the crest of the highest hill. Within this curving, sheltering hook of sand hills lie the smooth waters of Lewes Harbor, and, set a little back from the shore, the quaint old town, with its dingy wooden houses of clapboard and shingle, looks sleepily out through the masts of the shipping lying at anchor in the harbor, to the purple, clean-cut, level thread of the ocean horizon beyond. Lewes is a queer, odd, old-fashioned little town, smelling fragrant of salt marsh and sea breeze. It is rarely visited by strangers. The people who live there are the progeny of people who have lived there for many generations, and it is the very place to nurse, and preserve, and care for old legends and traditions of bygone times, until they grow from bits of gossip and news into local history of considerable size. As in the busier world men talk of last year's elections, here these old bits, and scraps, and odds and ends of history are retailed to the listener who cares to listen--traditions of the War of 1812, when Beresford's fleet lay off the harbor threatening to bombard the town; tales of the Revolution and of Earl Howe's warships, tarrying for a while in the quiet harbor before they sailed up the river to shake old Philadelphia town with the thunders of their guns at Red Bank and Fort Mifflin. With these substantial and sober threads of real history, other and more lurid colors are interwoven into the web of local lore--legends of the dark doings of famous pirates, of their mysterious, sinister comings and goings, of treasures buried in the sand dunes and pine barrens back of the cape and along the Atlantic beach to the southward. Of such is the story of Blueskin, the pirate. II It was in the fall and the early winter of the year 1750, and again in the summer of the year following, that the famous pirate, Blueskin, became especially identified with Lewes as a part of its traditional history. For some time--for three or four years--rumors and reports of Blueskin's doings in the West Indies and off the Carolinas had been brought in now and then by sea captains. There was no more cruel, bloody, desperate, devilish pirate than he in all those pirate-infested waters. All kinds of wild and bloody stories were current concerning him, but it never occurred to the good folk of Lewes that such stories were some time to be a part of their own history. But one day a schooner came drifting into Lewes harbor--shattered, wounded, her forecastle splintered, her foremast shot half away, and three great tattered holes in her mainsail. The mate with one of the crew came ashore in the boat for help and a doctor. He reported that the captain and the cook were dead and there were three wounded men aboard. The story he told to the gathering crowd brought a very peculiar thrill to those who heard it. They had fallen in with Blueskin, he said, off Fenwick's Island (some twenty or thirty miles below the capes), and the pirates had come aboard of them; but, finding that the cargo of the schooner consisted only of cypress shingles and lumber, had soon quitted their prize. Perhaps Blueskin was disappointed at not finding a more valuable capture; perhaps the spirit of deviltry was hotter in him that morning than usual; anyhow, as the pirate craft bore away she fired three broadsides at short range into the helpless coaster. The captain had been killed at the first fire, the cook had died on the way up, three of the crew were wounded, and the vessel was leaking fast, betwixt wind and water. Such was the mate's story. It spread like wildfire, and in half an hour all the town was in a ferment. Fenwick's Island was very near home; Blueskin might come sailing into the harbor at any minute and then--! In an hour Sheriff Jones had called together most of the able-bodied men of the town, muskets and rifles were taken down from the chimney places, and every preparation was made to defend the place against the pirates, should they come into the harbor and attempt to land. But Blueskin did not come that day, nor did he come the next or the next. But on the afternoon of the third the news went suddenly flying over the town that the pirates were inside the capes. As the report spread the people came running--men, women, and children--to the green before the tavern, where a little knot of old seamen were gathered together, looking fixedly out toward the offing, talking in low voices. Two vessels, one bark-rigged, the other and smaller a sloop, were slowly creeping up the bay, a couple of miles or so away and just inside the cape. There appeared nothing remarkable about the two crafts, but the little crowd that continued gathering upon the green stood looking out across the bay at them none the less anxiously for that. They were sailing close-hauled to the wind, the sloop following in the wake of her consort as the pilot fish follows in the wake of the shark. But the course they held did not lie toward the harbor, but rather bore away toward the Jersey shore, and by and by it began to be apparent that Blueskin did not intend visiting the town. Nevertheless, those who stood looking did not draw a free breath until, after watching the two pirates for more than an hour and a half, they saw them--then about six miles away--suddenly put about and sail with a free wind out to sea again. "The bloody villains have gone!" said old Captain Wolfe, shutting his telescope with a click. But Lewes was not yet quit of Blueskin. Two days later a half-breed from Indian River bay came up, bringing the news that the pirates had sailed into the inlet--some fifteen miles below Lewes--and had careened the bark to clean her. Perhaps Blueskin did not care to stir up the country people against him, for the half-breed reported that the pirates were doing no harm, and that what they took from the farmers of Indian River and Rehoboth they paid for with good hard money. It was while the excitement over the pirates was at its highest fever heat that Levi West came home again. III Even in the middle of the last century the grist mill, a couple of miles from Lewes, although it was at most but fifty or sixty years old, had all a look of weather-beaten age, for the cypress shingles, of which it was built, ripen in a few years of wind and weather to a silvery, hoary gray, and the white powdering of flour lent it a look as though the dust of ages had settled upon it, making the shadows within dim, soft, mysterious. A dozen willow trees shaded with dappling, shivering ripples of shadow the road before the mill door, and the mill itself, and the long, narrow, shingle-built, one-storied, hip-roofed dwelling house. At the time of the story the mill had descended in a direct line of succession to Hiram White, the grandson of old Ephraim White, who had built it, it was said, in 1701. Hiram White was only twenty-seven years old, but he was already in local repute as a "character." As a boy he was thought to be half-witted or "natural," and, as is the case with such unfortunates in small country towns where everybody knows everybody, he was made a common sport and jest for the keener, crueler wits of the neighborhood. Now that he was grown to the ripeness of manhood he was still looked upon as being--to use a quaint expression--"slack," or "not jest right." He was heavy, awkward, ungainly and loose-jointed, and enormously, prodigiously strong. He had a lumpish, thick-featured face, with lips heavy and loosely hanging, that gave him an air of stupidity, half droll, half pathetic. His little eyes were set far apart and flat with his face, his eyebrows were nearly white and his hair was of a sandy, colorless kind. He was singularly taciturn, lisping thickly when he did talk, and stuttering and hesitating in his speech, as though his words moved faster than his mind could follow. It was the custom for local wags to urge, or badger, or tempt him to talk, for the sake of the ready laugh that always followed the few thick, stammering words and the stupid drooping of the jaw at the end of each short speech. Perhaps Squire Hall was the only one in Lewes Hundred who mis-doubted that Hiram was half-witted. He had had dealings with him and was wont to say that whoever bought Hiram White for a fool made a fool's bargain. Certainly, whether he had common wits or no, Hiram had managed his mill to pretty good purpose and was fairly well off in the world as prosperity went in southern Delaware and in those days. No doubt, had it come to the pinch, he might have bought some of his tormentors out three times over. Hiram White had suffered quite a financial loss some six months before, through that very Blueskin who was now lurking in Indian River inlet. He had entered into a "venture" with Josiah Shippin, a Philadelphia merchant, to the tune of seven hundred pounds sterling. The money had been invested in a cargo of flour and corn meal which had been shipped to Jamaica by the bark _Nancy Lee_. The _Nancy Lee_ had been captured by the pirates off Currituck Sound, the crew set adrift in the longboat, and the bark herself and all her cargo burned to the water's edge. [Illustration: SO THE TREASURE WAS DIVIDED] Five hundred of the seven hundred pounds invested in the unfortunate "venture" was money bequeathed by Hiram's father, seven years before, to Levi West. Eleazer White had been twice married, the second time to the widow West. She had brought with her to her new home a good-looking, long-legged, black-eyed, black-haired ne'er-do-well of a son, a year or so younger than Hiram. He was a shrewd, quick-witted lad, idle, shiftless, willful, ill-trained perhaps, but as bright and keen as a pin. He was the very opposite to poor, dull Hiram. Eleazer White had never loved his son; he was ashamed of the poor, slack-witted oaf. Upon the other hand, he was very fond of Levi West, whom he always called "our Levi," and whom he treated in every way as though he were his own son. He tried to train the lad to work in the mill, and was patient beyond what the patience of most fathers would have been with his stepson's idleness and shiftlessness. "Never mind," he was used to say. "Levi 'll come all right. Levi's as bright as a button." It was one of the greatest blows of the old miller's life when Levi ran away to sea. In his last sickness the old man's mind constantly turned to his lost stepson. "Mebby he'll come back again," said he, "and if he does I want you to be good to him, Hiram. I've done my duty by you and have left you the house and mill, but I want you to promise that if Levi comes back again you'll give him a home and a shelter under this roof if he wants one." And Hiram had promised to do as his father asked. After Eleazer died it was found that he had bequeathed five hundred pounds to his "beloved stepson, Levi West," and had left Squire Hall as trustee. Levi West had been gone nearly nine years and not a word had been heard from him; there could be little or no doubt that he was dead. One day Hiram came into Squire Hall's office with a letter in his hand. It was the time of the old French war, and flour and corn meal were fetching fabulous prices in the British West Indies. The letter Hiram brought with him was from a Philadelphia merchant, Josiah Shippin, with whom he had had some dealings. Mr. Shippin proposed that Hiram should join him in sending a "venture" of flour and corn meal to Kingston, Jamaica. Hiram had slept upon the letter overnight and now he brought it to the old Squire. Squire Hall read the letter, shaking his head the while. "Too much risk, Hiram!" said he. "Mr Shippin wouldn't have asked you to go into this venture if he could have got anybody else to do so. My advice is that you let it alone. I reckon you've come to me for advice?" Hiram shook his head. "Ye haven't? What have ye come for, then?" "Seven hundred pounds," said Hiram. "Seven hundred pounds!" said Squire Hall. "I haven't got seven hundred pounds to lend you, Hiram." "Five hundred been left to Levi--I got hundred--raise hundred more on mortgage," said Hiram. "Tut, tut, Hiram," said Squire Hall, "that'll never do in the world. Suppose Levi West should come back again, what then? I'm responsible for that money. If you wanted to borrow it now for any reasonable venture, you should have it and welcome, but for such a wildcat scheme--" "Levi never come back," said Hiram--"nine years gone--Levi's dead." "Mebby he is," said Squire Hall, "but we don't know that." "I'll give bond for security," said Hiram. Squire Hall thought for a while in silence. "Very well, Hiram," said he by and by, "if you'll do that. Your father left the money, and I don't see that it's right for me to stay his son from using it. But if it is lost, Hiram, and if Levi should come back, it will go well to ruin ye." So Hiram White invested seven hundred pounds in the Jamaica venture and every farthing of it was burned by Blueskin, off Currituck Sound. IV Sally Martin was said to be the prettiest girl in Lewes Hundred, and when the rumor began to leak out that Hiram White was courting her the whole community took it as a monstrous joke. It was the common thing to greet Hiram himself with, "Hey, Hiram; how's Sally?" Hiram never made answer to such salutation, but went his way as heavily, as impassively, as dully as ever. The joke was true. Twice a week, rain or shine, Hiram White never failed to scrape his feet upon Billy Martin's doorstep. Twice a week, on Sundays and Thursdays, he never failed to take his customary seat by the kitchen fire. He rarely said anything by way of talk; he nodded to the farmer, to his wife, to Sally and, when he chanced to be at home, to her brother, but he ventured nothing further. There he would sit from half past seven until nine o'clock, stolid, heavy, impassive, his dull eyes following now one of the family and now another, but always coming back again to Sally. It sometimes happened that she had other company--some of the young men of the neighborhood. The presence of such seemed to make no difference to Hiram; he bore whatever broad jokes might be cracked upon him, whatever grins, whatever giggling might follow those jokes, with the same patient impassiveness. There he would sit, silent, unresponsive; then, at the first stroke of nine o'clock, he would rise, shoulder his ungainly person into his overcoat, twist his head into his three-cornered hat, and with a "Good night, Sally, I be going now," would take his departure, shutting the door carefully to behind him. Never, perhaps, was there a girl in the world had such a lover and such a courtship as Sally Martin. V It was one Thursday evening in the latter part of November, about a week after Blueskin's appearance off the capes, and while the one subject of talk was of the pirates being in Indian River inlet. The air was still and wintry; a sudden cold snap had set in and skins of ice had formed over puddles in the road; the smoke from the chimneys rose straight in the quiet air and voices sounded loud, as they do in frosty weather. Hiram White sat by the dim light of a tallow dip, poring laboriously over some account books. It was not quite seven o'clock, and he never started for Billy Martin's before that hour. As he ran his finger slowly and hesitatingly down the column of figures, he heard the kitchen door beyond open and shut, the noise of footsteps crossing the floor and the scraping of a chair dragged forward to the hearth. Then came the sound of a basket of corncobs being emptied on the smoldering blaze and then the snapping and crackling of the reanimated fire. Hiram thought nothing of all this, excepting, in a dim sort of way, that it was Bob, the negro mill hand, or old black Dinah, the housekeeper, and so went on with his calculations. At last he closed the books with a snap and, smoothing down his hair, arose, took up the candle, and passed out of the room into the kitchen beyond. A man was sitting in front of the corncob fire that flamed and blazed in the great, gaping, sooty fireplace. A rough overcoat was flung over the chair behind him and his hands were spread out to the roaring warmth. At the sound of the lifted latch and of Hiram's entrance he turned his head, and when Hiram saw his face he stood suddenly still as though turned to stone. The face, marvelously altered and changed as it was, was the face of his stepbrother, Levi West. He was not dead; he had come home again. For a time not a sound broke the dead, unbroken silence excepting the crackling of the blaze in the fireplace and the sharp ticking of the tall clock in the corner. The one face, dull and stolid, with the light of the candle shining upward over its lumpy features, looked fixedly, immovably, stonily at the other, sharp, shrewd, cunning--the red wavering light of the blaze shining upon the high cheek bones, cutting sharp on the nose and twinkling in the glassy turn of the black, ratlike eyes. Then suddenly that face cracked, broadened, spread to a grin. "I have come back again, Hi," said Levi, and at the sound of the words the speechless spell was broken. Hiram answered never a word, but he walked to the fireplace, set the candle down upon the dusty mantelshelf among the boxes and bottles, and, drawing forward a chair upon the other side of the hearth, sat down. His dull little eyes never moved from his stepbrother's face. There was no curiosity in his expression, no surprise, no wonder. The heavy under lip dropped a little farther open and there was more than usual of dull, expressionless stupidity upon the lumpish face; but that was all. As was said, the face upon which he looked was strangely, marvelously changed from what it had been when he had last seen it nine years before, and, though it was still the face of Levi West, it was a very different Levi West than the shiftless ne'er-do-well who had run away to sea in the Brazilian brig that long time ago. That Levi West had been a rough, careless, happy-go-lucky fellow; thoughtless and selfish, but with nothing essentially evil or sinister in his nature. The Levi West that now sat in a rush-bottom chair at the other side of the fireplace had that stamped upon his front that might be both evil and sinister. His swart complexion was tanned to an Indian copper. On one side of his face was a curious discoloration in the skin and a long, crooked, cruel scar that ran diagonally across forehead and temple and cheek in a white, jagged seam. This discoloration was of a livid blue, about the tint of a tattoo mark. It made a patch the size of a man's hand, lying across the cheek and the side of the neck. Hiram could not keep his eyes from this mark and the white scar cutting across it. There was an odd sort of incongruity in Levi's dress; a pair of heavy gold earrings and a dirty red handkerchief knotted loosely around his neck, beneath an open collar, displaying to its full length the lean, sinewy throat with its bony "Adam's apple," gave to his costume somewhat the smack of a sailor. He wore a coat that had once been of fine plum color--now stained and faded--too small for his lean length, and furbished with tarnished lace. Dirty cambric cuffs hung at his wrists and on his fingers were half a dozen and more rings, set with stones that shone, and glistened, and twinkled in the light of the fire. The hair at either temple was twisted into a Spanish curl, plastered flat to the cheek, and a plaited queue hung halfway down his back. Hiram, speaking never a word, sat motionless, his dull little eyes traveling slowly up and down and around and around his stepbrother's person. Levi did not seem to notice his scrutiny, leaning forward, now with his palms spread out to the grateful warmth, now rubbing them slowly together. But at last he suddenly whirled his chair around, rasping on the floor, and faced his stepbrother. He thrust his hand into his capacious coat pocket and brought out a pipe which he proceeded to fill from a skin of tobacco. "Well, Hi," said he, "d'ye see I've come back home again?" "Thought you was dead," said Hiram, dully. Levi laughed, then he drew a red-hot coal out of the fire, put it upon the bowl of the pipe and began puffing out clouds of pungent smoke. "Nay, nay," said he; "not dead--not dead by odds. But [puff] by the Eternal Holy, Hi, I played many a close game [puff] with old Davy Jones, for all that." Hiram's look turned inquiringly toward the jagged scar and Levi caught the slow glance. "You're lookin' at this," said he, running his finger down the crooked seam. "That looks bad, but it wasn't so close as this"--laying his hand for a moment upon the livid stain. "A cooly devil off Singapore gave me that cut when we fell foul of an opium junk in the China Sea four years ago last September. This," touching the disfiguring blue patch again, "was a closer miss, Hi. A Spanish captain fired a pistol at me down off Santa Catharina. He was so nigh that the powder went under the skin and it'll never come out again. ---- his eyes--he had better have fired the pistol into his own head that morning. But never mind that. I reckon I'm changed, ain't I, Hi?" He took his pipe out of his mouth and looked inquiringly at Hiram, who nodded. Levi laughed. "Devil doubt it," said he, "but whether I'm changed or no, I'll take my affidavy that you are the same old half-witted Hi that you used to be. I remember dad used to say that you hadn't no more than enough wits to keep you out of the rain. And, talking of dad, Hi, I hearn tell he's been dead now these nine years gone. D'ye know what I've come home for?" Hiram shook his head. "I've come for that five hundred pounds that dad left me when he died, for I hearn tell of that, too." Hiram sat quite still for a second or two and then he said, "I put that money out to venture and lost it all." Levi's face fell and he took his pipe out of his mouth, regarding Hiram sharply and keenly. "What d'ye mean?" said he presently. "I thought you was dead--and I put--seven hundred pounds--into _Nancy Lee_--and Blueskin burned her--off Currituck." "Burned her off Currituck!" repeated Levi. Then suddenly a light seemed to break upon his comprehension. "Burned by Blueskin!" he repeated, and thereupon flung himself back in his chair and burst into a short, boisterous fit of laughter. "Well, by the Holy Eternal, Hi, if that isn't a piece of your tarnal luck. Burned by Blueskin, was it?" He paused for a moment, as though turning it over in his mind. Then he laughed again. "All the same," said he presently, "d'ye see, I can't suffer for Blueskin's doings. The money was willed to me, fair and true, and you have got to pay it, Hiram White, burn or sink, Blueskin or no Blueskin." Again he puffed for a moment or two in reflective silence. "All the same, Hi," said he, once more resuming the thread of talk, "I don't reckon to be too hard on you. You be only half-witted, anyway, and I sha'n't be too hard on you. I give you a month to raise that money, and while you're doing it I'll jest hang around here. I've been in trouble, Hi, d'ye see. I'm under a cloud and so I want to keep here, as quiet as may be. I'll tell ye how it came about: I had a set-to with a land pirate in Philadelphia, and somebody got hurt. That's the reason I'm here now, and don't you say anything about it. Do you understand?" Hiram opened his lips as though it was his intent to answer, then seemed to think better of it and contented himself by nodding his head. That Thursday night was the first for a six-month that Hiram White did not scrape his feet clean at Billy Martin's doorstep. VI Within a week Levi West had pretty well established himself among his old friends and acquaintances, though upon a different footing from that of nine years before, for this was a very different Levi from that other. Nevertheless, he was none the less popular in the barroom of the tavern and at the country store, where he was always the center of a group of loungers. His nine years seemed to have been crowded full of the wildest of wild adventures and happenings, as well by land as by sea, and, given an appreciative audience, he would reel off his yarns by the hour, in a reckless, devil-may-care fashion that set agape even old sea dogs who had sailed the western ocean since boyhood. Then he seemed always to have plenty of money, and he loved to spend it at the tavern taproom, with a lavishness that was at once the wonder and admiration of gossips. [Illustration: Colonel Rhett and the Pirate _Illustration from_ COLONIES AND NATION _by_ Woodrow Wilson _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _May_, 1901] At that time, as was said, Blueskin was the one engrossing topic of talk, and it added not a little to Levi's prestige when it was found that he had actually often seen that bloody, devilish pirate with his own eyes. A great, heavy, burly fellow, Levi said he was, with a beard as black as a hat--a devil with his sword and pistol afloat, but not so black as he was painted when ashore. He told of many adventures in which Blueskin figured and was then always listened to with more than usual gaping interest. As for Blueskin, the quiet way in which the pirates conducted themselves at Indian River almost made the Lewes folk forget what he could do when the occasion called. They almost ceased to remember that poor shattered schooner that had crawled with its ghastly dead and groaning wounded into the harbor a couple of weeks since. But if for a while they forgot who or what Blueskin was, it was not for long. One day a bark from Bristol, bound for Cuba and laden with a valuable cargo of cloth stuffs and silks, put into Lewes harbor to take in water. The captain himself came ashore and was at the tavern for two or three hours. It happened that Levi was there and that the talk was of Blueskin. The English captain, a grizzled old sea dog, listened to Levi's yarns with not a little contempt. He had, he said, sailed in the China Sea and the Indian Ocean too long to be afraid of any hog-eating Yankee pirate such as this Blueskin. A junk full of coolies armed with stink-pots was something to speak of, but who ever heard of the likes of Blueskin falling afoul of anything more than a Spanish canoe or a Yankee coaster? Levi grinned. "All the same, my hearty," said he, "if I was you I'd give Blueskin a wide berth. I hear that he's cleaned the vessel that was careened awhile ago, and mebby he'll give you a little trouble if you come too nigh him." To this the Englishman only answered that Blueskin might be----, and that the next afternoon, wind and weather permitting, he intended to heave anchor and run out to sea. Levi laughed again. "I wish I might be here to see what'll happen," said he, "but I'm going up the river to-night to see a gal and mebby won't be back again for three or four days." The next afternoon the English bark set sail as the captain promised, and that night Lewes town was awake until almost morning, gazing at a broad red glare that lighted up the sky away toward the southeast. Two days afterward a negro oysterman came up from Indian River with news that the pirates were lying off the inlet, bringing ashore bales of goods from their larger vessel and piling the same upon the beach under tarpaulins. He said that it was known down at Indian River that Blueskin had fallen afoul of an English bark, had burned her and had murdered the captain and all but three of the crew, who had joined with the pirates. The excitement over this terrible happening had only begun to subside when another occurred to cap it. One afternoon a ship's boat, in which were five men and two women, came rowing into Lewes harbor. It was the longboat of the Charleston packet, bound for New York, and was commanded by the first mate. The packet had been attacked and captured by the pirates about ten leagues south by east of Cape Henlopen. The pirates had come aboard of them at night and no resistance had been offered. Perhaps it was that circumstance that saved the lives of all, for no murder or violence had been done. Nevertheless, officers, passengers and crew had been stripped of everything of value and set adrift in the boats and the ship herself had been burned. The longboat had become separated from the others during the night and had sighted Henlopen a little after sunrise. It may be here said that Squire Hall made out a report of these two occurrences and sent it up to Philadelphia by the mate of the packet. But for some reason it was nearly four weeks before a sloop of war was sent around from New York. In the meanwhile, the pirates had disposed of the booty stored under the tarpaulins on the beach at Indian River inlet, shipping some of it away in two small sloops and sending the rest by wagons somewhere up the country. VII Levi had told the English captain that he was going up-country to visit one of his lady friends. He was gone nearly two weeks. Then once more he appeared, as suddenly, as unexpectedly, as he had done when he first returned to Lewes. Hiram was sitting at supper when the door opened and Levi walked in, hanging up his hat behind the door as unconcernedly as though he had only been gone an hour. He was in an ugly, lowering humor and sat himself down at the table without uttering a word, resting his chin upon his clenched fist and glowering fixedly at the corn cake while Dinah fetched him a plate and knife and fork. His coming seemed to have taken away all of Hiram's appetite. He pushed away his plate and sat staring at his stepbrother, who presently fell to at the bacon and eggs like a famished wolf. Not a word was said until Levi had ended his meal and filled his pipe. "Look'ee, Hiram," said he, as he stooped over the fire and raked out a hot coal. "Look'ee, Hiram! I've been to Philadelphia, d'ye see, a-settlin' up that trouble I told you about when I first come home. D'ye understand? D'ye remember? D'ye get it through your skull?" He looked around over his shoulder, waiting as though for an answer. But getting none, he continued: "I expect two gentlemen here from Philadelphia to-night. They're friends of mine and are coming to talk over the business and ye needn't stay at home, Hi. You can go out somewhere, d'ye understand?" And then he added with a grin, "Ye can go to see Sally." Hiram pushed back his chair and arose. He leaned with his back against the side of the fireplace. "I'll stay at home," said he presently. "But I don't want you to stay at home, Hi," said Levi. "We'll have to talk business and I want you to go!" "I'll stay at home," said Hiram again. Levi's brow grew as black as thunder. He ground his teeth together and for a moment or two it seemed as though an explosion was coming. But he swallowed his passion with a gulp. "You're a----pig-headed, half-witted fool," said he. Hiram never so much as moved his eyes. "As for you," said Levi, whirling round upon Dinah, who was clearing the table, and glowering balefully upon the old negress, "you put them things down and git out of here. Don't you come nigh this kitchen again till I tell ye to. If I catch you pryin' around may I be ----, eyes and liver, if I don't cut your heart out." * * * * * In about half an hour Levi's friends came; the first a little, thin, wizened man with a very foreign look. He was dressed in a rusty black suit and wore gray yarn stockings and shoes with brass buckles. The other was also plainly a foreigner. He was dressed in sailor fashion, with petticoat breeches of duck, a heavy pea-jacket, and thick boots, reaching to the knees. He wore a red sash tied around his waist, and once, as he pushed back his coat, Hiram saw the glitter of a pistol butt. He was a powerful, thickset man, low-browed and bull-necked, his cheek, and chin, and throat closely covered with a stubble of blue-black beard. He wore a red kerchief tied around his head and over it a cocked hat, edged with tarnished gilt braid. Levi himself opened the door to them. He exchanged a few words outside with his visitors, in a foreign language of which Hiram understood nothing. Neither of the two strangers spoke a word to Hiram: the little man shot him a sharp look out of the corners of his eyes and the burly ruffian scowled blackly at him, but beyond that neither vouchsafed him any regard. Levi drew to the shutters, shot the bolt in the outer door, and tilted a chair against the latch of the one that led from the kitchen into the adjoining room. Then the three worthies seated themselves at the table which Dinah had half cleared of the supper china, and were presently deeply engrossed over a packet of papers which the big, burly man had brought with him in the pocket of his pea-jacket. The confabulation was conducted throughout in the same foreign language which Levi had used when first speaking to them--a language quite unintelligible to Hiram's ears. Now and then the murmur of talk would rise loud and harsh over some disputed point; now and then it would sink away to whispers. Twice the tall clock in the corner whirred and sharply struck the hour, but throughout the whole long consultation Hiram stood silent, motionless as a stock, his eyes fixed almost unwinkingly upon the three heads grouped close together around the dim, flickering light of the candle and the papers scattered upon the table. Suddenly the talk came to an end, the three heads separated and the three chairs were pushed back, grating harshly. Levi rose, went to the closet and brought thence a bottle of Hiram's apple brandy, as coolly as though it belonged to himself. He set three tumblers and a crock of water upon the table and each helped himself liberally. As the two visitors departed down the road, Levi stood for a while at the open door, looking after the dusky figures until they were swallowed in the darkness. Then he turned, came in, shut the door, shuddered, took a final dose of the apple brandy and went to bed, without, since his first suppressed explosion, having said a single word to Hiram. Hiram, left alone, stood for a while, silent, motionless as ever, then he looked slowly about him, gave a shake of the shoulders as though to arouse himself, and taking the candle, left the room, shutting the door noiselessly behind him. VIII This time of Levi West's unwelcome visitation was indeed a time of bitter trouble and tribulation to poor Hiram White. Money was of very different value in those days than it is now, and five hundred pounds was in its way a good round lump--in Sussex County it was almost a fortune. It was a desperate struggle for Hiram to raise the amount of his father's bequest to his stepbrother. Squire Hall, as may have been gathered, had a very warm and friendly feeling for Hiram, believing in him when all others disbelieved; nevertheless, in the matter of money the old man was as hard and as cold as adamant. He would, he said, do all he could to help Hiram, but that five hundred pounds must and should be raised--Hiram must release his security bond. He would loan him, he said, three hundred pounds, taking a mortgage upon the mill. He would have lent him four hundred but that there was already a first mortgage of one hundred pounds upon it, and he would not dare to put more than three hundred more atop of that. Hiram had a considerable quantity of wheat which he had bought upon speculation and which was then lying idle in a Philadelphia storehouse. This he had sold at public sale and at a very great sacrifice; he realized barely one hundred pounds upon it. The financial horizon looked very black to him; nevertheless, Levi's five hundred pounds was raised, and paid into Squire Hall's hands, and Squire Hall released Hiram's bond. The business was finally closed on one cold, gray afternoon in the early part of December. As Hiram tore his bond across and then tore it across again and again, Squire Hall pushed back the papers upon his desk and cocked his feet upon its slanting top. "Hiram," said he, abruptly, "Hiram, do you know that Levi West is forever hanging around Billy Martin's house, after that pretty daughter of his?" So long a space of silence followed the speech that the Squire began to think that Hiram might not have heard him. But Hiram had heard. "No," said he, "I didn't know it." "Well, he is," said Squire Hall. "It's the talk of the whole neighborhood. The talk's pretty bad, too. D'ye know that they say that she was away from home three days last week, nobody knew where? The fellow's turned her head with his sailor's yarns and his traveler's lies." Hiram said not a word, but he sat looking at the other in stolid silence. "That stepbrother of yours," continued the old Squire presently, "is a rascal--he is a rascal, Hiram, and I mis-doubt he's something worse. I hear he's been seen in some queer places and with queer company of late." He stopped again, and still Hiram said nothing. "And look'ee, Hiram," the old man resumed, suddenly, "I do hear that you be courtin' the girl, too; is that so?" "Yes," said Hiram, "I'm courtin' her, too." "Tut! tut!" said the Squire, "that's a pity, Hiram. I'm afraid your cakes are dough." After he had left the Squire's office, Hiram stood for a while in the street, bareheaded, his hat in his hand, staring unwinkingly down at the ground at his feet, with stupidly drooping lips and lackluster eyes. Presently he raised his hand and began slowly smoothing down the sandy shock of hair upon his forehead. At last he aroused himself with a shake, looked dully up and down the street, and then, putting on his hat, turned and walked slowly and heavily away. The early dusk of the cloudy winter evening was settling fast, for the sky was leaden and threatening. At the outskirts of the town Hiram stopped again and again stood for a while in brooding thought. Then, finally, he turned slowly, not the way that led homeward, but taking the road that led between the bare and withered fields and crooked fences toward Billy Martin's. It would be hard to say just what it was that led Hiram to seek Billy Martin's house at that time of day--whether it was fate or ill fortune. He could not have chosen a more opportune time to confirm his own undoing. What he saw was the very worst that his heart feared. Along the road, at a little distance from the house, was a mock-orange hedge, now bare, naked, leafless. As Hiram drew near he heard footsteps approaching and low voices. He drew back into the fence corner and there stood, half sheltered by the stark network of twigs. Two figures passed slowly along the gray of the roadway in the gloaming. One was his stepbrother, the other was Sally Martin. Levi's arm was around her, he was whispering into her ear, and her head rested upon his shoulder. Hiram stood as still, as breathless, as cold as ice. They stopped upon the side of the road just beyond where he stood. Hiram's eyes never left them. There for some time they talked together in low voices, their words now and then reaching the ears of that silent, breathless listener. Suddenly there came the clattering of an opening door, and then Betty Martin's voice broke the silence, harshly, shrilly: "Sal!--Sal!--Sally Martin! You, Sally Martin! Come in yere. Where be ye?" The girl flung her arms around Levi's neck and their lips met in one quick kiss. The next moment she was gone, flying swiftly, silently, down the road past where Hiram stood, stooping as she ran. Levi stood looking after her until she was gone; then he turned and walked away whistling. His whistling died shrilly into silence in the wintry distance, and then at last Hiram came stumbling out from the hedge. His face had never looked before as it looked then. IX Hiram was standing in front of the fire with his hands clasped behind his back. He had not touched the supper on the table. Levi was eating with an appetite. Suddenly he looked over his plate at his stepbrother. "How about that five hundred pounds, Hiram?" said he. "I gave ye a month to raise it and the month ain't quite up yet, but I'm goin' to leave this here place day after to-morrow--by next day at the furd'st--and I want the money that's mine." "I paid it to Squire Hall to-day and he has it fer ye," said Hiram, dully. Levi laid down his knife and fork with a clatter. "Squire Hall!" said he, "what's Squire Hall got to do with it? Squire Hall didn't have the use of that money. It was you had it and you have got to pay it back to me, and if you don't do it, by G----, I'll have the law on you, sure as you're born." "Squire Hall's trustee--I ain't your trustee," said Hiram, in the same dull voice. "I don't know nothing about trustees," said Levi, "or anything about lawyer business, either. What I want to know is, are you going to pay me my money or no?" "No," said Hiram, "I ain't--Squire Hall 'll pay ye; you go to him." Levi West's face grew purple red. He pushed back, his chair grating harshly. "You--bloody land pirate!" he said, grinding his teeth together. "I see through your tricks. You're up to cheating me out of my money. You know very well that Squire Hall is down on me, hard and bitter--writin' his ---- reports to Philadelphia and doing all he can to stir up everybody agin me and to bring the bluejackets down on me. I see through your tricks as clear as glass, but ye sha'n't trick me. I'll have my money if there's law in the land--ye bloody, unnatural thief ye, who'd go agin your dead father's will!" Then--if the roof had fallen in upon him, Levi West could not have been more amazed--Hiram suddenly strode forward, and, leaning half across the table with his fists clenched, fairly glared into Levi's eyes. His face, dull, stupid, wooden, was now fairly convulsed with passion. The great veins stood out upon his temples like knotted whipcords, and when he spoke his voice was more a breathless snarl than the voice of a Christian man. "Ye'll have the law, will ye?" said he. "Ye'll--have the law, will ye? You're afeared to go to law--Levi West--you try th' law--and see how ye like it. Who 're you to call me thief--ye bloody, murderin' villain ye! You're the thief--Levi West--you come here and stole my daddy from me--ye did. You make me ruin--myself to pay what oughter to been mine--then--ye--ye steal the gal I was courtin', to boot." He stopped and his lips writhed for words to say. "I know ye," said he, grinding his teeth. "I know ye! And only for what my daddy made me promise I'd a-had you up to the magistrate's before this." Then, pointing with quivering finger: "There's the door--you see it! Go out that there door and don't never come into it again--if ye do--or if ye ever come where I can lay eyes on ye again--by th' Holy Holy I'll hale ye up to the Squire's office and tell all I know and all I've seen. Oh, I'll give ye your belly-fill of law if--ye want th' law! Git out of the house, I say!" As Hiram spoke Levi seemed to shrink together. His face changed from its copper color to a dull, waxy yellow. When the other ended he answered never a word. But he pushed back his chair, rose, put on his hat and, with a furtive, sidelong look, left the house, without stopping to finish the supper which he had begun. He never entered Hiram White's door again. X Hiram had driven out the evil spirit from his home, but the mischief that it had brewed was done and could not be undone. The next day it was known that Sally Martin had run away from home, and that she had run away with Levi West. Old Billy Martin had been in town in the morning with his rifle, hunting for Levi and threatening if he caught him to have his life for leading his daughter astray. And, as the evil spirit had left Hiram's house, so had another and a greater evil spirit quitted its harborage. It was heard from Indian River in a few days more that Blueskin had quitted the inlet and had sailed away to the southeast; and it was reported, by those who seemed to know, that he had finally quitted those parts. It was well for himself that Blueskin left when he did, for not three days after he sailed away the _Scorpion_ sloop-of-war dropped anchor in Lewes harbor. The New York agent of the unfortunate packet and a government commissioner had also come aboard the _Scorpion_. Without loss of time, the officer in command instituted a keen and searching examination that brought to light some singularly curious facts. It was found that a very friendly understanding must have existed for some time between the pirates and the people of Indian River, for, in the houses throughout that section, many things--some of considerable value--that had been taken by the pirates from the packet, were discovered and seized by the commissioner. Valuables of a suspicious nature had found their way even into the houses of Lewes itself. The whole neighborhood seemed to have become more or less tainted by the presence of the pirates. Even poor Hiram White did not escape the suspicions of having had dealings with them. Of course the examiners were not slow in discovering that Levi West had been deeply concerned with Blueskin's doings. Old Dinah and black Bob were examined, and not only did the story of Levi's two visitors come to light, but also the fact that Hiram was present and with them while they were in the house disposing of the captured goods to their agent. Of all that he had endured, nothing seemed to cut poor Hiram so deeply and keenly as these unjust suspicions. They seemed to bring the last bitter pang, hardest of all to bear. Levi had taken from him his father's love; he had driven him, if not to ruin, at least perilously close to it. He had run away with the girl he loved, and now, through him, even Hiram's good name was gone. Neither did the suspicions against him remain passive; they became active. Goldsmiths' bills, to the amount of several thousand pounds, had been taken in the packet and Hiram was examined with an almost inquisitorial closeness and strictness as to whether he had or had not knowledge of their whereabouts. Under his accumulated misfortunes, he grew not only more dull, more taciturn, than ever, but gloomy, moody, brooding as well. For hours he would sit staring straight before him into the fire, without moving so much as a hair. One night--it was a bitterly cold night in February, with three inches of dry and gritty snow upon the ground--while Hiram sat thus brooding, there came, of a sudden, a soft tap upon the door. Low and hesitating as it was, Hiram started violently at the sound. He sat for a while, looking from right to left. Then suddenly pushing back his chair, he arose, strode to the door, and flung it wide open. It was Sally Martin. [Illustration: The Pirate's Christmas _Originally published in_ HARPER'S WEEKLY, _Christmas, 1893_] Hiram stood for a while staring blankly at her. It was she who first spoke. "Won't you let me come in, Hi?" said she. "I'm nigh starved with the cold and I'm fit to die, I'm so hungry. For God's sake, let me come in." "Yes," said Hiram, "I'll let you come in, but why don't you go home?" The poor girl was shivering and chattering with the cold; now she began crying, wiping her eyes with the corner of a blanket in which her head and shoulders were wrapped. "I have been home, Hiram," she said, "but dad, he shut the door in my face. He cursed me just awful, Hi--I wish I was dead!" "You better come in," said Hiram. "It's no good standing out there in the cold." He stood aside and the girl entered, swiftly, gratefully. At Hiram's bidding black Dinah presently set some food before Sally and she fell to eating ravenously, almost ferociously. Meantime, while she ate, Hiram stood with his back to the fire, looking at her face--that face once so round and rosy, now thin, pinched, haggard. "Are you sick, Sally?" said he presently. "No," said she, "but I've had pretty hard times since I left home, Hi." The tears sprang to her eyes at the recollection of her troubles, but she only wiped them hastily away with the back of her hand, without stopping in her eating. A long pause of dead silence followed. Dinah sat crouched together on a cricket at the other side of the hearth, listening with interest. Hiram did not seem to see her. "Did you go off with Levi?" said he at last, speaking abruptly. The girl looked up furtively under her brows. "You needn't be afeared to tell," he added. "Yes," said she at last, "I did go off with him, Hi." "Where've you been?" At the question, she suddenly laid down her knife and fork. "Don't you ask me that, Hi," said she, agitatedly, "I can't tell you that. You don't know Levi, Hiram; I darsn't tell you anything he don't want me to. If I told you where I been he'd hunt me out, no matter where I was, and kill me. If you only knew what I know about him, Hiram, you wouldn't ask anything about him." Hiram stood looking broodingly at her for a long time; then at last he again spoke. "I thought a sight of you onc't, Sally," said he. Sally did not answer immediately, but, after a while, she suddenly looked up. "Hiram," said she, "if I tell ye something will you promise on your oath not to breathe a word to any living soul?" Hiram nodded. "Then I'll tell you, but if Levi finds I've told he'll murder me as sure as you're standin' there. Come nigher--I've got to whisper it." He leaned forward close to her where she sat. She looked swiftly from right to left; then raising her lips she breathed into his ear: "I'm an honest woman, Hi. I was married to Levi West before I run away." XI The winter had passed, spring had passed, and summer had come. Whatever Hiram had felt, he had made no sign of suffering. Nevertheless, his lumpy face had begun to look flabby, his cheeks hollow, and his loose-jointed body shrunk more awkwardly together into its clothes. He was often awake at night, sometimes walking up and down his room until far into the small hours. It was through such a wakeful spell as this that he entered into the greatest, the most terrible, happening of his life. It was a sulphurously hot night in July. The air was like the breath of a furnace, and it was a hard matter to sleep with even the easiest mind and under the most favorable circumstances. The full moon shone in through the open window, laying a white square of light upon the floor, and Hiram, as he paced up and down, up and down, walked directly through it, his gaunt figure starting out at every turn into sudden brightness as he entered the straight line of misty light. The clock in the kitchen whirred and rang out the hour of twelve, and Hiram stopped in his walk to count the strokes. The last vibration died away into silence, and still he stood motionless, now listening with a new and sudden intentness, for, even as the clock rang the last stroke, he heard soft, heavy footsteps, moving slowly and cautiously along the pathway before the house and directly below the open window. A few seconds more and he heard the creaking of rusty hinges. The mysterious visitor had entered the mill. Hiram crept softly to the window and looked out. The moon shone full on the dusty, shingled face of the old mill, not thirty steps away, and he saw that the door was standing wide open. A second or two of stillness followed, and then, as he still stood looking intently, he saw the figure of a man suddenly appear, sharp and vivid, from the gaping blackness of the open doorway. Hiram could see his face as clear as day. It was Levi West, and he carried an empty meal bag over his arm. Levi West stood looking from right to left for a second or two, and then he took off his hat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Then he softly closed the door behind him and left the mill as he had come, and with the same cautious step. Hiram looked down upon him as he passed close to the house and almost directly beneath. He could have touched him with his hand. Fifty or sixty yards from the house Levi stopped and a second figure arose from the black shadow in the angle of the worm fence and joined him. They stood for a while talking together, Levi pointing now and then toward the mill. Then the two turned, and, climbing over the fence, cut across an open field and through the tall, shaggy grass toward the southeast. Hiram straightened himself and drew a deep breath, and the moon, shining full upon his face, showed it twisted, convulsed, as it had been when he had fronted his stepbrother seven months before in the kitchen. Great beads of sweat stood on his brow and he wiped them away with his sleeve. Then, coatless, hatless as he was, he swung himself out of the window, dropped upon the grass, and, without an instant of hesitation, strode off down the road in the direction that Levi West had taken. As he climbed the fence where the two men had climbed it he could see them in the pallid light, far away across the level, scrubby meadow land, walking toward a narrow strip of pine woods. A little later they entered the sharp-cut shadows beneath the trees and were swallowed in the darkness. With fixed eyes and close-shut lips, as doggedly, as inexorably as though he were a Nemesis hunting his enemy down, Hiram followed their footsteps across the stretch of moonlit open. Then, by and by, he also was in the shadow of the pines. Here, not a sound broke the midnight hush. His feet made no noise upon the resinous softness of the ground below. In that dead, pulseless silence he could distinctly hear the distant voices of Levi and his companion, sounding loud and resonant in the hollow of the woods. Beyond the woods was a cornfield, and presently he heard the rattling of the harsh leaves as the two plunged into the tasseled jungle. Here, as in the woods, he followed them, step by step, guided by the noise of their progress through the canes. Beyond the cornfield ran a road that, skirting to the south of Lewes, led across a wooden bridge to the wide salt marshes that stretched between the town and the distant sand hills. Coming out upon this road Hiram found that he had gained upon those he followed, and that they now were not fifty paces away, and he could see that Levi's companion carried over his shoulder what looked like a bundle of tools. He waited for a little while to let them gain their distance and for the second time wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve; then, without ever once letting his eyes leave them, he climbed the fence to the roadway. For a couple of miles or more he followed the two along the white, level highway, past silent, sleeping houses, past barns, sheds, and haystacks, looming big in the moonlight, past fields, and woods, and clearings, past the dark and silent skirts of the town, and so, at last, out upon the wide, misty salt marshes, which seemed to stretch away interminably through the pallid light, yet were bounded in the far distance by the long, white line of sand hills. Across the level salt marshes he followed them, through the rank sedge and past the glassy pools in which his own inverted image stalked beneath as he stalked above; on and on, until at last they had reached a belt of scrub pines, gnarled and gray, that fringed the foot of the white sand hills. Here Hiram kept within the black network of shadow. The two whom he followed walked more in the open, with their shadows, as black as ink, walking along in the sand beside them, and now, in the dead, breathless stillness, might be heard, dull and heavy, the distant thumping, pounding roar of the Atlantic surf, beating on the beach at the other side of the sand hills, half a mile away. At last the two rounded the southern end of the white bluff, and when Hiram, following, rounded it also, they were no longer to be seen. Before him the sand hill rose, smooth and steep, cutting in a sharp ridge against the sky. Up this steep hill trailed the footsteps of those he followed, disappearing over the crest. Beyond the ridge lay a round, bowl-like hollow, perhaps fifty feet across and eighteen or twenty feet deep, scooped out by the eddying of the winds into an almost perfect circle. Hiram, slowly, cautiously, stealthily, following their trailing line of footmarks, mounted to the top of the hillock and peered down into the bowl beneath. The two men were sitting upon the sand, not far from the tall, skeleton-like shaft of a dead pine tree that rose, stark and gray, from the sand in which it may once have been buried, centuries ago. XII Levi had taken off his coat and waistcoat and was fanning himself with his hat. He was sitting upon the bag he had brought from the mill and which he had spread out upon the sand. His companion sat facing him. The moon shone full upon him and Hiram knew him instantly--he was the same burly, foreign-looking ruffian who had come with the little man to the mill that night to see Levi. He also had his hat off and was wiping his forehead and face with a red handkerchief. Beside him lay the bundle of tools he had brought--a couple of shovels, a piece of rope, and a long, sharp iron rod. The two men were talking together, but Hiram could not understand what they said, for they spoke in the same foreign language that they had before used. But he could see his stepbrother point with his finger, now to the dead tree and now to the steep, white face of the opposite side of the bowl-like hollow. At last, having apparently rested themselves, the conference, if conference it was, came to an end, and Levi led the way, the other following, to the dead pine tree. Here he stopped and began searching, as though for some mark; then, having found that which he looked for, he drew a tapeline and a large brass pocket compass from his pocket. He gave one end of the tape line to his companion, holding the other with his thumb pressed upon a particular part of the tree. Taking his bearings by the compass, he gave now and then some orders to the other, who moved a little to the left or the right as he bade. At last he gave a word of command, and, thereupon, his companion drew a wooden peg from his pocket and thrust it into the sand. From this peg as a base they again measured, taking bearings by the compass, and again drove a peg. For a third time they repeated their measurements and then, at last, seemed to have reached the point which they aimed for. Here Levi marked a cross with his heel upon the sand. His companion brought him the pointed iron rod which lay beside the shovels, and then stood watching as Levi thrust it deep into the sand, again and again, as though sounding for some object below. It was some while before he found that for which he was seeking, but at last the rod struck with a jar upon some hard object below. After making sure of success by one or two additional taps with the rod, Levi left it remaining where it stood, brushing the sand from his hands. "Now fetch the shovels, Pedro," said he, speaking for the first time in English. The two men were busy for a long while, shoveling away the sand. The object for which they were seeking lay buried some six feet deep, and the work was heavy and laborious, the shifting sand sliding back, again and again, into the hole. But at last the blade of one of the shovels struck upon some hard substance and Levi stooped and brushed away the sand with the palm of his hand. Levi's companion climbed out of the hole which they had dug and tossed the rope which he had brought with the shovels down to the other. Levi made it fast to some object below and then himself mounted to the level of the sand above. Pulling together, the two drew up from the hole a heavy iron-bound box, nearly three feet long and a foot wide and deep. Levi's companion stooped and began untying the rope which had been lashed to a ring in the lid. What next happened happened suddenly, swiftly, terribly. Levi drew back a single step, and shot one quick, keen look to right and to left. He passed his hand rapidly behind his back, and the next moment Hiram saw the moonlight gleam upon the long, sharp, keen blade of a knife. Levi raised his arm. Then, just as the other arose from bending over the chest, he struck, and struck again, two swift, powerful blows. Hiram saw the blade drive, clean and sharp, into the back, and heard the hilt strike with a dull thud against the ribs--once, twice. The burly, black-bearded wretch gave a shrill, terrible cry and fell staggering back. Then, in an instant, with another cry, he was up and clutched Levi with a clutch of despair by the throat and by the arm. Then followed a struggle, short, terrible, silent. Not a sound was heard but the deep, panting breath and the scuffling of feet in the sand, upon which there now poured and dabbled a dark-purple stream. But it was a one-sided struggle and lasted only for a second or two. Levi wrenched his arm loose from the wounded man's grasp, tearing his shirt sleeve from the wrist to the shoulder as he did so. Again and again the cruel knife was lifted, and again and again it fell, now no longer bright, but stained with red. Then, suddenly, all was over. Levi's companion dropped to the sand without a sound, like a bundle of rags. For a moment he lay limp and inert; then one shuddering spasm passed over him and he lay silent and still, with his face half buried in the sand. Levi, with the knife still gripped tight in his hand, stood leaning over his victim, looking down upon his body. His shirt and hand, and even his naked arm, were stained and blotched with blood. The moon lit up his face and it was the face of a devil from hell. At last he gave himself a shake, stooped and wiped his knife and hand and arm upon the loose petticoat breeches of the dead man. He thrust his knife back into its sheath, drew a key from his pocket and unlocked the chest. In the moonlight Hiram could see that it was filled mostly with paper and leather bags, full, apparently of money. All through this awful struggle and its awful ending Hiram lay, dumb and motionless, upon the crest of the sand hill, looking with a horrid fascination upon the death struggle in the pit below. Now Hiram arose. The sand slid whispering down from the crest as he did so, but Levi was too intent in turning over the contents of the chest to notice the slight sound. [Illustration: "He Lay Silent and Still, with His Face Half Buried in the Sand" _Illustration from_ BLUESKIN, THE PIRATE _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published in_ THE NORTHWESTERN MILLER, _December, 1890_] Hiram's face was ghastly pale and drawn. For one moment he opened his lips as though to speak, but no word came. So, white, silent, he stood for a few seconds, rather like a statue than a living man, then, suddenly, his eyes fell upon the bag, which Levi had brought with him, no doubt, to carry back the treasure for which he and his companion were in search, and which still lay spread out on the sand where it had been flung. Then, as though a thought had suddenly flashed upon him, his whole expression changed, his lips closed tightly together as though fearing an involuntary sound might escape, and the haggard look dissolved from his face. Cautiously, slowly, he stepped over the edge of the sand hill and down the slanting face. His coming was as silent as death, for his feet made no noise as he sank ankle-deep in the yielding surface. So, stealthily, step by step, he descended, reached the bag, lifted it silently. Levi, still bending over the chest and searching through the papers within, was not four feet away. Hiram raised the bag in his hands. He must have made some slight rustle as he did so, for suddenly Levi half turned his head. But he was one instant too late. In a flash the bag was over his head--shoulders--arms--body. Then came another struggle, as fierce, as silent, as desperate as that other--and as short. Wiry, tough, and strong as he was, with a lean, sinewy, nervous vigor, fighting desperately for his life as he was, Levi had no chance against the ponderous strength of his stepbrother. In any case, the struggle could not have lasted long; as it was, Levi stumbled backward over the body of his dead mate and fell, with Hiram upon him. Maybe he was stunned by the fall; maybe he felt the hopelessness of resistance, for he lay quite still while Hiram, kneeling upon him, drew the rope from the ring of the chest and, without uttering a word, bound it tightly around both the bag and the captive within, knotting it again and again and drawing it tight. Only once was a word spoken. "If you'll lemme go," said a muffled voice from the bag, "I'll give you five thousand pounds--it's in that there box." Hiram answered never a word, but continued knotting the rope and drawing it tight. XIII The _Scorpion_ sloop-of-war lay in Lewes harbor all that winter and spring, probably upon the slim chance of a return of the pirates. It was about eight o'clock in the morning and Lieutenant Maynard was sitting in Squire Hall's office, fanning himself with his hat and talking in a desultory fashion. Suddenly the dim and distant noise of a great crowd was heard from without, coming nearer and nearer. The Squire and his visitor hurried to the door. The crowd was coming down the street shouting, jostling, struggling, some on the footway, some in the roadway. Heads were at the doors and windows, looking down upon them. Nearer they came, and nearer; then at last they could see that the press surrounded and accompanied one man. It was Hiram White, hatless, coatless, the sweat running down his face in streams, but stolid and silent as ever. Over his shoulder he carried a bag, tied round and round with a rope. It was not until the crowd and the man it surrounded had come quite near that the Squire and the lieutenant saw that a pair of legs in gray-yarn stockings hung from the bag. It was a man he was carrying. Hiram had lugged his burden five miles that morning without help and with scarcely a rest on the way. He came directly toward the Squire's office and, still surrounded and hustled by the crowd, up the steep steps to the office within. He flung his burden heavily upon the floor without a word and wiped his streaming forehead. The Squire stood with his knuckles on his desk, staring first at Hiram and then at the strange burden he had brought. A sudden hush fell upon all, though the voices of those without sounded as loud and turbulent as ever. "What is it, Hiram?" said Squire Hall at last. Then for the first time Hiram spoke, panting thickly. "It's a bloody murderer," said he, pointing a quivering finger at the motionless figure. "Here, some of you!" called out the Squire. "Come! Untie this man! Who is he?" A dozen willing fingers quickly unknotted the rope and the bag was slipped from the head and body. Hair and face and eyebrows and clothes were powdered with meal, but, in spite of all and through all the innocent whiteness, dark spots and blotches and smears of blood showed upon head and arm and shirt. Levi raised himself upon his elbow and looked scowlingly around at the amazed, wonderstruck faces surrounding him. "Why, it's Levi West!" croaked the Squire, at last finding his voice. Then, suddenly, Lieutenant Maynard pushed forward, before the others crowded around the figure on the floor, and, clutching Levi by the hair, dragged his head backward so as to better see his face. "Levi West!" said he in a loud voice. "Is this the Levi West you've been telling me of? Look at that scar and the mark on his cheek! _This is Blueskin himself._" XIV In the chest which Blueskin had dug up out of the sand were found not only the goldsmiths' bills taken from the packet, but also many other valuables belonging to the officers and the passengers of the unfortunate ship. The New York agents offered Hiram a handsome reward for his efforts in recovering the lost bills, but Hiram declined it, positively and finally. "All I want," said he, in his usual dull, stolid fashion, "is to have folks know I'm honest." Nevertheless, though he did not accept what the agents of the packet offered, fate took the matter into its own hands and rewarded him not unsubstantially. Blueskin was taken to England in the _Scorpion_. But he never came to trial. While in Newgate he hanged himself to the cell window with his own stockings. The news of his end was brought to Lewes in the early autumn and Squire Hall took immediate measures to have the five hundred pounds of his father's legacy duly transferred to Hiram. In November Hiram married the pirate's widow. [Illustration: "There Cap'n Goldsack goes, creeping, creeping, creeping, Looking for his treasure down below!" _Illustration from_ CAP'N GOLDSACK _by_ William Sharp _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _July_, 1902] Chapter VII CAPTAIN SCARFIELD PREFACE [Illustration: CAPTAIN SCARFIELD] _The author of this narrative cannot recall that, in any history of the famous pirates, he has ever read a detailed and sufficient account of the life and death of Capt. John Scarfield. Doubtless some data concerning his death and the destruction of his schooner might be gathered from the report of Lieutenant Mainwaring, now filed in the archives of the Navy Department, but beyond such bald and bloodless narrative the author knows of nothing, unless it be the little chap-book history published by Isaiah Thomas in Newburyport about the year 1821-22, entitled, "A True History of the Life and Death of Captain Jack Scarfield." This lack of particularity in the history of one so notable in his profession it is the design of the present narrative in a measure to supply, and, if the author has seen fit to cast it in the form of a fictional story, it is only that it may make more easy reading for those who see fit to follow the tale from this to its conclusion._ CAPTAIN SCARFIELD I Eleazer Cooper, or Captain Cooper, as was his better-known title in Philadelphia, was a prominent member of the Society of Friends. He was an overseer of the meeting and an occasional speaker upon particular occasions. When at home from one of his many voyages he never failed to occupy his seat in the meeting both on First Day and Fifth Day, and he was regarded by his fellow townsmen as a model of business integrity and of domestic responsibility. More incidental to this history, however, it is to be narrated that Captain Cooper was one of those trading skippers who carried their own merchandise in their own vessels which they sailed themselves, and on whose decks they did their own bartering. His vessel was a swift, large schooner, the _Eliza Cooper_, _of Philadelphia_, named for his wife. His cruising grounds were the West India Islands, and his merchandise was flour and corn meal ground at the Brandywine Mills at Wilmington, Delaware. During the War of 1812 he had earned, as was very well known, an extraordinary fortune in this trading; for flour and corn meal sold at fabulous prices in the French, Spanish, Dutch, and Danish islands, cut off, as they were, from the rest of the world by the British blockade. The running of this blockade was one of the most hazardous maritime ventures possible, but Captain Cooper had met with such unvaried success, and had sold his merchandise at such incredible profit that, at the end of the war, he found himself to have become one of the wealthiest merchants of his native city. It was known at one time that his balance in the Mechanics' Bank was greater than that of any other individual depositor upon the books, and it was told of him that he had once deposited in the bank a chest of foreign silver coin, the exchanged value of which, when translated into American currency, was upward of forty-two thousand dollars--a prodigious sum of money in those days. In person, Captain Cooper was tall and angular of frame. His face was thin and severe, wearing continually an unsmiling, mask-like expression of continent and unruffled sobriety. His manner was dry and taciturn, and his conduct and life were measured to the most absolute accord with the teachings of his religious belief. He lived in an old-fashioned house on Front Street below Spruce--as pleasant, cheerful a house as ever a trading captain could return to. At the back of the house a lawn sloped steeply down toward the river. To the south stood the wharf and storehouses; to the north an orchard and kitchen garden bloomed with abundant verdure. Two large chestnut trees sheltered the porch and the little space of lawn, and when you sat under them in the shade you looked down the slope between two rows of box bushes directly across the shining river to the Jersey shore. At the time of our story--that is, about the year 1820--this property had increased very greatly in value, but it was the old home of the Coopers, as Eleazer Cooper was entirely rich enough to indulge his fancy in such matters. Accordingly, as he chose to live in the same house where his father and his grandfather had dwelt before him, he peremptorily, if quietly, refused all offers looking toward the purchase of the lot of ground--though it was now worth five or six times its former value. As was said, it was a cheerful, pleasant home, impressing you when you entered it with the feeling of spotless and all-pervading cleanliness--a cleanliness that greeted you in the shining brass door-knocker; that entertained you in the sitting room with its stiff, leather-covered furniture, the brass-headed tacks whereof sparkled like so many stars--a cleanliness that bade you farewell in the spotless stretch of sand-sprinkled hallway, the wooden floor of which was worn into knobs around the nail heads by the countless scourings and scrubbings to which it had been subjected and which left behind them an all-pervading faint, fragrant odor of soap and warm water. Eleazer Cooper and his wife were childless, but one inmate made the great, silent, shady house bright with life. Lucinda Fairbanks, a niece of Captain Cooper's by his only sister, was a handsome, sprightly girl of eighteen or twenty, and a great favorite in the Quaker society of the city. It remains only to introduce the final and, perhaps, the most important actor of the narrative--Lieut. James Mainwaring. During the past twelve months or so he had been a frequent visitor at the Cooper house. At this time he was a broad-shouldered, red-cheeked, stalwart fellow of twenty-six or twenty-eight. He was a great social favorite, and possessed the added romantic interest of having been aboard the _Constitution_ when she fought the _Guerriere_, and of having, with his own hands, touched the match that fired the first gun of that great battle. Mainwaring's mother and Eliza Cooper had always been intimate friends, and the coming and going of the young man during his leave of absence were looked upon in the house as quite a matter of course. Half a dozen times a week he would drop in to execute some little commission for the ladies, or, if Captain Cooper was at home, to smoke a pipe of tobacco with him, to sip a dram of his famous old Jamaica rum, or to play a rubber of checkers of an evening. It is not likely that either of the older people was the least aware of the real cause of his visits; still less did they suspect that any passages of sentiment had passed between the young people. [Illustration: "He Had Found the Captain Agreeable and Companionable" _Illustration from_ SEA ROBBERS OF NEW YORK _by_ Thomas A. Janvier _Originally published in_ HARPER'S MAGAZINE, _November_, 1894] The truth was that Mainwaring and the young lady were very deeply in love. It was a love that they were obliged to keep a profound secret, for not only had Eleazer Cooper held the strictest sort of testimony against the late war--a testimony so rigorous as to render it altogether unlikely that one of so military a profession as Mainwaring practiced could hope for his consent to a suit for marriage, but Lucinda could not have married one not a member of the Society of Friends without losing her own birthright membership therein. She herself might not attach much weight to such a loss of membership in the Society, but her fear of, and her respect for, her uncle led her to walk very closely in her path of duty in this respect. Accordingly she and Mainwaring met as they could--clandestinely--and the stolen moments were very sweet. With equal secrecy Lucinda had, at the request of her lover, sat for a miniature portrait to Mrs. Gregory, which miniature, set in a gold medallion, Mainwaring, with a mild, sentimental pleasure, wore hung around his neck and beneath his shirt frill next his heart. In the month of April of the year 1820 Mainwaring received orders to report at Washington. During the preceding autumn the West India pirates, and notably Capt. Jack Scarfield, had been more than usually active, and the loss of the packet _Marblehead_ (which, sailing from Charleston, South Carolina, was never heard of more) was attributed to them. Two other coasting vessels off the coast of Georgia had been looted and burned by Scarfield, and the government had at last aroused itself to the necessity of active measures for repressing these pests of the West India waters. Mainwaring received orders to take command of the _Yankee_, a swift, light-draught, heavily armed brig of war, and to cruise about the Bahama Islands and to capture and destroy all the pirates' vessels he could there discover. On his way from Washington to New York, where the _Yankee_ was then waiting orders, Mainwaring stopped in Philadelphia to bid good-by to his many friends in that city. He called at the old Cooper house. It was on a Sunday afternoon. The spring was early and the weather extremely pleasant that day, being filled with a warmth almost as of summer. The apple trees were already in full bloom and filled all the air with their fragrance. Everywhere there seemed to be the pervading hum of bees, and the drowsy, tepid sunshine was very delightful. At that time Eleazer was just home from an unusually successful voyage to Antigua. Mainwaring found the family sitting under one of the still leafless chestnut trees, Captain Cooper smoking his long clay pipe and lazily perusing a copy of the _National Gazette_. Eleazer listened with a great deal of interest to what Mainwaring had to say of his proposed cruise. He himself knew a great deal about the pirates, and, singularly unbending from his normal, stiff taciturnity, he began telling of what he knew, particularly of Captain Scarfield--in whom he appeared to take an extraordinary interest. Vastly to Mainwaring's surprise, the old Quaker assumed the position of a defendant of the pirates, protesting that the wickedness of the accused was enormously exaggerated. He declared that he knew some of the freebooters very well and that at the most they were poor, misdirected wretches who had, by easy gradation, slid into their present evil ways, from having been tempted by the government authorities to enter into privateering in the days of the late war. He conceded that Captain Scarfield had done many cruel and wicked deeds, but he averred that he had also performed many kind and benevolent actions. The world made no note of these latter, but took care only to condemn the evil that had been done. He acknowledged that it was true that the pirate had allowed his crew to cast lots for the wife and the daughter of the skipper of the _Northern Rose_, but there were none of his accusers who told how, at the risk of his own life and the lives of all his crew, he had given succor to the schooner _Halifax_, found adrift with all hands down with yellow fever. There was no defender of his actions to tell how he and his crew of pirates had sailed the pest-stricken vessel almost into the rescuing waters of Kingston harbor. Eleazer confessed that he could not deny that when Scarfield had tied the skipper of the _Baltimore Belle_ naked to the foremast of his own brig he had permitted his crew of cutthroats (who were drunk at the time) to throw bottles at the helpless captive, who died that night of the wounds he had received. For this he was doubtless very justly condemned, but who was there to praise him when he had, at the risk of his life and in the face of the authorities, carried a cargo of provisions which he himself had purchased at Tampa Bay to the Island of Bella Vista after the great hurricane of 1818? In this notable adventure he had barely escaped, after a two days' chase, the British frigate _Ceres_, whose captain, had a capture been effected, would instantly have hung the unfortunate man to the yardarm in spite of the beneficent mission he was in the act of conducting. In all this Eleazer had the air of conducting the case for the defendant. As he talked he became more and more animated and voluble. The light went out in his tobacco pipe, and a hectic spot appeared in either thin and sallow cheek. Mainwaring sat wondering to hear the severely peaceful Quaker preacher defending so notoriously bloody and cruel a cutthroat pirate as Capt. Jack Scarfield. The warm and innocent surroundings, the old brick house looking down upon them, the odor of apple blossoms and the hum of bees seemed to make it all the more incongruous. And still the elderly Quaker skipper talked on and on with hardly an interruption, till the warm sun slanted to the west and the day began to decline. That evening Mainwaring stayed to tea and when he parted from Lucinda Fairbanks it was after nightfall, with a clear, round moon shining in the milky sky and a radiance pallid and unreal enveloping the old house, the blooming apple trees, the sloping lawn and the shining river beyond. He implored his sweetheart to let him tell her uncle and aunt of their acknowledged love and to ask the old man's consent to it, but she would not permit him to do so. They were so happy as they were. Who knew but what her uncle might forbid their fondness? Would he not wait a little longer? Maybe it would all come right after a while. She was so fond, so tender, so tearful at the nearness of their parting that he had not the heart to insist. At the same time it was with a feeling almost of despair that he realized that he must now be gone--maybe for the space of two years--without in all that time possessing the right to call her his before the world. When he bade farewell to the older people it was with a choking feeling of bitter disappointment. He yet felt the pressure of her cheek against his shoulder, the touch of soft and velvet lips to his own. But what were such clandestine endearments compared to what might, perchance, be his--the right of calling her his own when he was far away and upon the distant sea? And, besides, he felt like a coward who had shirked his duty. But he was very much in love. The next morning appeared in a drizzle of rain that followed the beautiful warmth of the day before. He had the coach all to himself, and in the damp and leathery solitude he drew out the little oval picture from beneath his shirt frill and looked long and fixedly with a fond and foolish joy at the innocent face, the blue eyes, the red, smiling lips depicted upon the satinlike, ivory surface. II For the better part of five months Mainwaring cruised about in the waters surrounding the Bahama Islands. In that time he ran to earth and dispersed a dozen nests of pirates. He destroyed no less than fifteen piratical crafts of all sizes, from a large half-decked whaleboat to a three-hundred-ton barkentine. The name of the _Yankee_ became a terror to every sea wolf in the western tropics, and the waters of the Bahama Islands became swept almost clean of the bloody wretches who had so lately infested it. But the one freebooter of all others whom he sought--Capt. Jack Scarfield--seemed to evade him like a shadow, to slip through his fingers like magic. Twice he came almost within touch of the famous marauder, both times in the ominous wrecks that the pirate captain had left behind him. The first of these was the water-logged remains of a burned and still smoking wreck that he found adrift in the great Bahama channel. It was the _Water Witch_, of Salem, but he did not learn her tragic story until, two weeks later, he discovered a part of her crew at Port Maria, on the north coast of Jamaica. It was, indeed, a dreadful story to which he listened. The castaways said that they of all the vessel's crew had been spared so that they might tell the commander of the _Yankee_, should they meet him, that he might keep what he found, with Captain Scarfield's compliments, who served it up to him hot cooked. Three weeks later he rescued what remained of the crew of the shattered, bloody hulk of the _Baltimore Belle_, eight of whose crew, headed by the captain, had been tied hand and foot and heaved overboard. Again, there was a message from Captain Scarfield to the commander of the _Yankee_ that he might season what he found to suit his own taste. Mainwaring was of a sanguine disposition, with fiery temper. He swore, with the utmost vehemence, that either he or John Scarfield would have to leave the earth. He had little suspicion of how soon was to befall the ominous realization of his angry prophecy. At that time one of the chief rendezvous of the pirates was the little island of San José, one of the southernmost of the Bahama group. Here, in the days before the coming of the _Yankee_, they were wont to put in to careen and clean their vessels and to take in a fresh supply of provisions, gunpowder, and rum, preparatory to renewing their attacks upon the peaceful commerce circulating up and down outside the islands, or through the wide stretches of the Bahama channel. Mainwaring had made several descents upon this nest of freebooters. He had already made two notable captures, and it was here he hoped eventually to capture Captain Scarfield himself. A brief description of this one-time notorious rendezvous of freebooters might not be out of place. It consisted of a little settlement of those wattled and mud-smeared houses such as you find through the West Indies. There were only three houses of a more pretentious sort, built of wood. One of these was a storehouse, another was a rum shop, and a third a house in which dwelt a mulatto woman, who was reputed to be a sort of left-handed wife of Captain Scarfield's. The population was almost entirely black and brown. One or two Jews and a half dozen Yankee traders, of hardly dubious honesty, comprised the entire white population. The rest consisted of a mongrel accumulation of negroes and mulattoes and half-caste Spaniards, and of a multitude of black or yellow women and children. The settlement stood in a bight of the beach forming a small harbor and affording a fair anchorage for small vessels, excepting it were against the beating of a southeasterly gale. The houses, or cabins, were surrounded by clusters of coco palms and growths of bananas, and a long curve of white beach, sheltered from the large Atlantic breakers that burst and exploded upon an outer bar, was drawn like a necklace around the semicircle of emerald-green water. Such was the famous pirates' settlement of San José--a paradise of nature and a hell of human depravity and wickedness--and it was to this spot that Mainwaring paid another visit a few days after rescuing the crew of the _Baltimore Belle_ from her shattered and sinking wreck. [Illustration: THE BUCCANEER WAS A PICTURESQUE FELLOW] As the little bay with its fringe of palms and its cluster of wattle huts opened up to view, Mainwaring discovered a vessel lying at anchor in the little harbor. It was a large and well-rigged schooner of two hundred and fifty or three hundred tons burden. As the _Yankee_ rounded to under the stern of the stranger and dropped anchor in such a position as to bring her broadside battery to bear should the occasion require, Mainwaring set his glass to his eye to read the name he could distinguish beneath the overhang of her stern. It is impossible to describe his infinite surprise when, the white lettering starting out in the circle of the glass, he read, _The Eliza Cooper, of Philadelphia_. He could not believe the evidence of his senses. Certainly this sink of iniquity was the last place in the world he would have expected to have fallen in with Eleazer Cooper. He ordered out the gig and had himself immediately rowed over to the schooner. Whatever lingering doubts he might have entertained as to the identity of the vessel were quickly dispelled when he beheld Captain Cooper himself standing at the gangway to meet him. The impassive face of the friend showed neither surprise nor confusion at what must have been to him a most unexpected encounter. But when he stepped upon the deck of the _Eliza Cooper_ and looked about him, Mainwaring could hardly believe the evidence of his senses at the transformation that he beheld. Upon the main deck were eight twelve-pound carronade neatly covered with tarpaulin; in the bow a Long Tom, also snugly stowed away and covered, directed a veiled and muzzled snout out over the bowsprit. It was entirely impossible for Mainwaring to conceal his astonishment at so unexpected a sight, and whether or not his own thoughts lent color to his imagination, it seemed to him that Eleazer Cooper concealed under the immobility of his countenance no small degree of confusion. After Captain Cooper had led the way into the cabin and he and the younger man were seated over a pipe of tobacco and the invariable bottle of fine old Jamaica rum, Mainwaring made no attempt to refrain from questioning him as to the reason for this singular and ominous transformation. "I am a man of peace, James Mainwaring," Eleazer replied, "but there are men of blood in these waters, and an appearance of great strength is of use to protect the innocent from the wicked. If I remained in appearance the peaceful trader I really am, how long does thee suppose I could remain unassailed in this place?" It occurred to Mainwaring that the powerful armament he had beheld was rather extreme to be used merely as a preventive. He smoked for a while in silence and then he suddenly asked the other point-blank whether, if it came to blows with such a one as Captain Scarfield, would he make a fight of it? The Quaker trading captain regarded him for a while in silence. His look, it seemed to Mainwaring, appeared to be dubitative as to how far he dared to be frank. "Friend James," he said at last, "I may as well acknowledge that my officers and crew are somewhat worldly. Of a truth they do not hold the same testimony as I. I am inclined to think that if it came to the point of a broil with those men of iniquity, my individual voice cast for peace would not be sufficient to keep my crew from meeting violence with violence. As for myself, thee knows who I am and what is my testimony in these matters." Mainwaring made no comment as to the extremely questionable manner in which the Quaker proposed to beat the devil about the stump. Presently he asked his second question: "And might I inquire," he said, "what you are doing here and why you find it necessary to come at all into such a wicked, dangerous place as this?" "Indeed, I knew thee would ask that question of me," said the Friend, "and I will be entirely frank with thee. These men of blood are, after all, but human beings, and as human beings they need food. I have at present upon this vessel upward of two hundred and fifty barrels of flour which will bring a higher price here than anywhere else in the West Indies. To be entirely frank with thee, I will tell thee that I was engaged in making a bargain for the sale of the greater part of my merchandise when the news of thy approach drove away my best customer." Mainwaring sat for a while in smoking silence. What the other had told him explained many things he had not before understood. It explained why Captain Cooper got almost as much for his flour and corn meal now that peace had been declared as he had obtained when the war and the blockade were in full swing. It explained why he had been so strong a defender of Captain Scarfield and the pirates that afternoon in the garden. Meantime, what was to be done? Eleazer confessed openly that he dealt with the pirates. What now was his--Mainwaring's--duty in the case? Was the cargo of the _Eliza Cooper_ contraband and subject to confiscation? And then another question framed itself in his mind: Who was this customer whom his approach had driven away? As though he had formulated the inquiry into speech the other began directly to speak of it. "I know," he said, "that in a moment thee will ask me who was this customer of whom I have just now spoken. I have no desire to conceal his name from thee. It was the man who is known as Captain Jack or Captain John Scarfield." Mainwaring fairly started from his seat. "The devil you say!" he cried. "And how long has it been," he asked, "since he left you?" The Quaker skipper carefully refilled his pipe, which he had by now smoked out. "I would judge," he said, "that it is a matter of four or five hours since news was brought overland by means of swift runners of thy approach. Immediately the man of wickedness disappeared." Here Eleazer set the bowl of his pipe to the candle flame and began puffing out voluminous clouds of smoke. "I would have thee understand, James Mainwaring," he resumed, "that I am no friend of this wicked and sinful man. His safety is nothing to me. It is only a question of buying upon his part and of selling upon mine. If it is any satisfaction to thee I will heartily promise to bring thee news if I hear anything of the man of Belial. I may furthermore say that I think it is likely thee will have news more or less directly of him within the space of a day. If this should happen, however, thee will have to do thy own fighting without help from me, for I am no man of combat nor of blood and will take no hand in it either way." It struck Mainwaring that the words contained some meaning that did not appear upon the surface. This significance struck him as so ambiguous that when he went aboard the _Yankee_ he confided as much of his suspicions as he saw fit to his second in command, Lieutenant Underwood. As night descended he had a double watch set and had everything prepared to repel any attack or surprise that might be attempted. III Nighttime in the tropics descends with a surprising rapidity. At one moment the earth is shining with the brightness of the twilight; the next, as it were, all things are suddenly swallowed into a gulf of darkness. The particular night of which this story treats was not entirely clear; the time of year was about the approach of the rainy season, and the tepid, tropical clouds added obscurity to the darkness of the sky, so that the night fell with even more startling quickness than usual. The blackness was very dense. Now and then a group of drifting stars swam out of a rift in the vapors, but the night was curiously silent and of a velvety darkness. [Illustration: THEN THE REAL FIGHT BEGAN] As the obscurity had deepened, Mainwaring had ordered lanthorns to be lighted and slung to the shrouds and to the stays, and the faint yellow of their illumination lighted the level white of the snug little war vessel, gleaming here and there in a starlike spark upon the brass trimmings and causing the rows of cannons to assume curiously gigantic proportions. For some reason Mainwaring was possessed by a strange, uneasy feeling. He walked restlessly up and down the deck for a time, and then, still full of anxieties for he knew not what, went into his cabin to finish writing up his log for the day. He unstrapped his cutlass and laid it upon the table, lighted his pipe at the lanthorn and was about preparing to lay aside his coat when word was brought to him that the captain of the trading schooner was come alongside and had some private information to communicate to him. Mainwaring surmised in an instant that the trader's visit related somehow to news of Captain Scarfield, and as immediately, in the relief of something positive to face, all of his feeling of restlessness vanished like a shadow of mist. He gave orders that Captain Cooper should be immediately shown into the cabin, and in a few moments the tall, angular form of the Quaker skipper appeared in the narrow, lanthorn-lighted space. Mainwaring at once saw that his visitor was strangely agitated and disturbed. He had taken off his hat, and shining beads of perspiration had gathered and stood clustered upon his forehead. He did not reply to Mainwaring's greeting; he did not, indeed, seem to hear it; but he came directly forward to the table and stood leaning with one hand upon the open log book in which the lieutenant had just been writing. Mainwaring had reseated himself at the head of the table, and the tall figure of the skipper stood looking down at him as from a considerable height. "James Mainwaring," he said, "I promised thee to report if I had news of the pirate. Is thee ready now to hear my news?" There was something so strange in his agitation that it began to infect Mainwaring with a feeling somewhat akin to that which appeared to disturb his visitor. "I know not what you mean, sir!" he cried, "by asking if I care to hear your news. At this moment I would rather have news of that scoundrel than to have anything I know of in the world." "Thou would? Thou would?" cried the other, with mounting agitation. "Is thee in such haste to meet him as all that? Very well; very well, then. Suppose I could bring thee face to face with him--what then? Hey? Hey? Face to face with him, James Mainwaring!" The thought instantly flashed into Mainwaring's mind that the pirate had returned to the island; that perhaps at that moment he was somewhere near at hand. "I do not understand you, sir," he cried. "Do you mean to tell me that you know where the villain is? If so, lose no time in informing me, for every instant of delay may mean his chance of again escaping." "No danger of that!" the other declared, vehemently. "No danger of that! I'll tell thee where he is and I'll bring thee to him quick enough!" And as he spoke he thumped his fist against the open log book. In the vehemence of his growing excitement his eyes appeared to shine green in the lanthorn light, and the sweat that had stood in beads upon his forehead was now running in streams down his face. One drop hung like a jewel to the tip of his beaklike nose. He came a step nearer to Mainwaring and bent forward toward him, and there was something so strange and ominous in his bearing that the lieutenant instinctively drew back a little where he sat. "Captain Scarfield sent something to you," said Eleazer, almost in a raucous voice, "something that you will be surprised to see." And the lapse in his speech from the Quaker "thee" to the plural "you" struck Mainwaring as singularly strange. As he was speaking Eleazer was fumbling in a pocket of his long-tailed drab coat, and presently he brought something forth that gleamed in the lanthorn light. The next moment Mainwaring saw leveled directly in his face the round and hollow nozzle of a pistol. There was an instant of dead silence and then, "I am the man you seek!" said Eleazer Cooper, in a tense and breathless voice. The whole thing had happened so instantaneously and unexpectedly that for the moment Mainwaring sat like one petrified. Had a thunderbolt fallen from the silent sky and burst at his feet he could not have been more stunned. He was like one held in the meshes of a horrid nightmare, and he gazed as through a mist of impossibility into the lineaments of the well-known, sober face now transformed as from within into the aspect of a devil. That face, now ashy white, was distorted into a diabolical grin. The teeth glistened in the lamplight. The brows, twisted into a tense and convulsed frown, were drawn down into black shadows, through which the eyes burned a baleful green like the eyes of a wild animal driven to bay. Again he spoke in the same breathless voice. "I am John Scarfield! Look at me, then, if you want to see a pirate!" Again there was a little time of silence, through which Mainwaring heard his watch ticking loudly from where it hung against the bulkhead. Then once more the other began speaking. "You would chase me out of the West Indies, would you? G---- ---- you! What are you come to now? You are caught in your own trap, and you'll squeal loud enough before you get out of it. Speak a word or make a movement and I'll blow your brains out against the partition behind you! Listen to what I say or you are a dead man. Sing out an order instantly for my mate and my bos'n to come here to the cabin, and be quick about it, for my finger's on the trigger, and it's only a pull to shut your mouth forever." It was astonishing to Mainwaring, in afterward thinking about it all, how quickly his mind began to recover its steadiness after that first astonishing shock. Even as the other was speaking he discovered that his brain was becoming clarified to a wonderful lucidity; his thoughts were becoming rearranged, and with a marvelous activity and an alertness he had never before experienced. He knew that if he moved to escape or uttered any outcry he would be instantly a dead man, for the circle of the pistol barrel was directed full against his forehead and with the steadiness of a rock. If he could but for an instant divert that fixed and deadly attention he might still have a chance for life. With the thought an inspiration burst into his mind and he instantly put it into execution; thought, inspiration, and action, as in a flash, were one. He must make the other turn aside his deadly gaze, and instantly he roared out in a voice that stunned his own ears: "Strike, bos'n! Strike, quick!" Taken by surprise, and thinking, doubtless, that another enemy stood behind him, the pirate swung around like a flash with his pistol leveled against the blank boarding. Equally upon the instant he saw the trick that had been played upon him and in a second flash had turned again. The turn and return had occupied but a moment of time, but that moment, thanks to the readiness of his own invention, had undoubtedly saved Mainwaring's life. As the other turned away his gaze for that brief instant Mainwaring leaped forward and upon him. There was a flashing flame of fire as the pistol was discharged and a deafening detonation that seemed to split his brain. For a moment, with reeling senses, he supposed himself to have been shot, the next he knew he had escaped. With the energy of despair he swung his enemy around and drove him with prodigious violence against the corner of the table. The pirate emitted a grunting cry and then they fell together, Mainwaring upon the top, and the pistol clattered with them to the floor in their fall. Even as he fell, Mainwaring roared in a voice of thunder, "All hands repel boarders!" And then again, "All hands repel boarders!" Whether hurt by the table edge or not, the fallen pirate struggled as though possessed of forty devils, and in a moment or two Mainwaring saw the shine of a long, keen knife that he had drawn from somewhere about his person. The lieutenant caught him by the wrist, but the other's muscles were as though made of steel. They both fought in despairing silence, the one to carry out his frustrated purposes to kill, the other to save his life. Again and again Mainwaring felt that the knife had been thrust against him, piercing once his arm, once his shoulder, and again his neck. He felt the warm blood streaming down his arm and body and looked about him in despair. The pistol lay near upon the deck of the cabin. Still holding the other by the wrist as he could, Mainwaring snatched up the empty weapon and struck once and again at the bald, narrow forehead beneath him. A third blow he delivered with all the force he could command, and then with a violent and convulsive throe the straining muscles beneath him relaxed and grew limp and the fight was won. Through all the struggle he had been aware of the shouts of voices, of trampling of feet and discharge of firearms, and the thought came to him, even through his own danger, that the _Yankee_ was being assaulted by the pirates. As he felt the struggling form beneath him loosen and dissolve into quietude, he leaped up, and snatching his cutlass, which still lay upon the table, rushed out upon the deck, leaving the stricken form lying twitching upon the floor behind him. It was a fortunate thing that he had set double watches and prepared himself for some attack from the pirates, otherwise the _Yankee_ would certainly have been lost. As it was, the surprise was so overwhelming that the pirates, who had been concealed in the large whaleboat that had come alongside, were not only able to gain a foothold upon the deck, but for a time it seemed as though they would drive the crew of the brig below the hatches. But as Mainwaring, streaming with blood, rushed out upon the deck, the pirates became immediately aware that their own captain must have been overpowered, and in an instant their desperate energy began to evaporate. One or two jumped overboard; one, who seemed to be the mate, fell dead from a pistol shot, and then, in the turn of a hand, there was a rush of a retreat and a vision of leaping forms in the dusky light of the lanthorns and a sound of splashing in the water below. The crew of the _Yankee_ continued firing at the phosphorescent wakes of the swimming bodies, but whether with effect it was impossible at the time to tell. IV The pirate captain did not die immediately. He lingered for three or four days, now and then unconscious, now and then semi-conscious, but always deliriously wandering. All the while he thus lay dying, the mulatto woman, with whom he lived in this part of his extraordinary dual existence, nursed and cared for him with such rude attentions as the surroundings afforded. In the wanderings of his mind the same duality of life followed him. Now and then he would appear the calm, sober, self-contained, well-ordered member of a peaceful society that his friends in his far-away home knew him to be; at other times the nether part of his nature would leap up into life like a wild beast, furious and gnashing. At the one time he talked evenly and clearly of peaceful things; at the other time he blasphemed and hooted with fury. Several times Mainwaring, though racked by his own wounds, sat beside the dying man through the silent watches of the tropical nights. Oftentimes upon these occasions as he looked at the thin, lean face babbling and talking so aimlessly, he wondered what it all meant. Could it have been madness--madness in which the separate entities of good and bad each had, in its turn, a perfect and distinct existence? He chose to think that this was the case. Who, within his inner consciousness, does not feel that same ferine, savage man struggling against the stern, adamantine bonds of morality and decorum? Were those bonds burst asunder, as it was with this man, might not the wild beast rush forth, as it had rushed forth in him, to rend and to tear? Such were the questions that Mainwaring asked himself. And how had it all come about? By what easy gradations had the respectable Quaker skipper descended from the decorum of his home life, step by step, into such a gulf of iniquity? Many such thoughts passed through Mainwaring's mind, and he pondered them through the still reaches of the tropical nights while he sat watching the pirate captain struggle out of the world he had so long burdened. At last the poor wretch died, and the earth was well quit of one of its torments. [Illustration: "He Struck Once and Again at the Bald, Narrow Forehead Beneath Him" _Illustration from_ CAPTAIN SCARFIELD _by_ Howard Pyle _Originally published in_ THE NORTHWESTERN MILLER, _December_ 18, 1897] A systematic search was made through the island for the scattered crew, but none was captured. Either there were some secret hiding places upon the island (which was not very likely) or else they had escaped in boats hidden somewhere among the tropical foliage. At any rate they were gone. Nor, search as he would, could Mainwaring find a trace of any of the pirate treasure. After the pirate's death and under close questioning, the weeping mulatto woman so far broke down as to confess in broken English that Captain Scarfield had taken a quantity of silver money aboard his vessel, but either she was mistaken or else the pirates had taken it thence again and had hidden it somewhere else. Nor would the treasure ever have been found but for a most fortuitous accident. Mainwaring had given orders that the _Eliza Cooper_ was to be burned, and a party was detailed to carry the order into execution. At this the cook of the _Yankee_ came petitioning for some of the Wilmington and Brandywine flour to make some plum duff upon the morrow, and Mainwaring granted his request in so far that he ordered one of the men to knock open one of the barrels of flour and to supply the cook's demands. The crew detailed to execute this modest order in connection with the destruction of the pirate vessel had not been gone a quarter of an hour when word came back that the hidden treasure had been found. Mainwaring hurried aboard the _Eliza Cooper_, and there in the midst of the open flour barrel he beheld a great quantity of silver coin buried in and partly covered by the white meal. A systematic search was now made. One by one the flour barrels were heaved up from below and burst open on the deck and their contents searched, and if nothing but the meal was found it was swept overboard. The breeze was whitened with clouds of flour, and the white meal covered the surface of the ocean for yards around. In all, upward of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars was found concealed beneath the innocent flour and meal. It was no wonder the pirate captain was so successful, when he could upon an instant's notice transform himself from a wolf of the ocean to a peaceful Quaker trader selling flour to the hungry towns and settlements among the scattered islands of the West Indies, and so carrying his bloody treasure safely into his quiet Northern home. In concluding this part of the narrative it may be added that a wide strip of canvas painted black was discovered in the hold of the _Eliza Cooper_. Upon it, in great white letters, was painted the name, "The Bloodhound." Undoubtedly this was used upon occasions to cover the real and peaceful title of the trading schooner, just as its captain had, in reverse, covered his sanguine and cruel life by a thin sheet of morality and respectability. This is the true story of the death of Capt. Jack Scarfield. The Newburyport chap-book, of which I have already spoken, speaks only of how the pirate disguised himself upon the ocean as a Quaker trader. Nor is it likely that anyone ever identified Eleazer Cooper with the pirate, for only Mainwaring of all the crew of the _Yankee_ was exactly aware of the true identity of Captain Scarfield. All that was ever known to the world was that Eleazer Cooper had been killed in a fight with the pirates. In a little less than a year Mainwaring was married to Lucinda Fairbanks. As to Eleazer Cooper's fortune, which eventually came into the possession of Mainwaring through his wife, it was many times a subject of speculation to the lieutenant how it had been earned. There were times when he felt well assured that a part of it at least was the fruit of piracy, but it was entirely impossible to guess how much more was the result of legitimate trading. For a little time it seemed to Mainwaring that he should give it all up, but this was at once so impracticable and so quixotic that he presently abandoned it, and in time his qualms and misdoubts faded away and he settled himself down to enjoy that which had come to him through his marriage. In time the Mainwarings removed to New York, and ultimately the fortune that the pirate Scarfield had left behind him was used in part to found the great shipping house of Mainwaring & Bigot, whose famous transatlantic packet ships were in their time the admiration of the whole world. [Illustration] Chapter VIII THE RUBY OF KISHMOOOR _Prologue_ A very famous pirate of his day was Capt. Robertson Keitt. Before embarking upon his later career of infamy, he was, in the beginning, very well known as a reputable merchant in the island of Jamaica. Thence entering, first of all, upon the business of the African trade, he presently, by regular degrees, became a pirate, and finally ended his career as one of the most renowned freebooters of history. The remarkable adventure through which he at once reached the pinnacle of success, and became in his profession the most famous figure of his day, was the capture of the Rajah of Kishmoor's great ship, _The Sun of the East_. In this vessel was the Rajah's favorite Queen, who, together with her attendants, was set upon a pilgrimage to Mecca. The court of this great Oriental potentate was, as may be readily supposed, fairly aglitter with gold and jewels, so that, what with such personal adornments that the Queen and her attendants had fetched with them, besides an ample treasury for the expenses of the expedition, an incredible prize of gold and jewels rewarded the freebooters for their successful adventure. Among the precious stones taken in this great purchase was the splendid ruby of Kishmoor. This, as may be known to the reader, was one of the world's greatest gems, and was unique alike both for its prodigious size and the splendor of its color. This precious jewel the Rajah of Kishmoor had, upon a certain occasion, bestowed upon his Queen, and at the time of her capture she wore it as the centerpiece of a sort of coronet which encircled her forehead and brow. The seizure by the pirate of so considerable a person as that of the Queen of Kishmoor, and of the enormous treasure that he found aboard her ship, would alone have been sufficient to have established his fame. But the capture of so extraordinary a prize as that of the ruby--which was, in itself, worth the value of an entire Oriental kingdom--exalted him at once to the very highest pinnacle of renown. Having achieved the capture of this incredible prize, our captain scuttled the great ship and left her to sink with all on board. Three Lascars of the crew alone escaped to bear the news of this tremendous disaster to an astounded world. As may readily be supposed, it was now no longer possible for Captain Keitt to hope to live in such comparative obscurity as he had before enjoyed. His was now too remarkable a figure in the eyes of the world. Several expeditions from various parts were immediately fitted out against him, and it presently became no longer compatible with his safety to remain thus clearly outlined before the eyes of the world. Accordingly, he immediately set about seeking such security as he might now hope to find, which he did the more readily since he had now, and at one cast, so entirely fulfilled his most sanguine expectations of good fortune and of fame. Thereafter, accordingly, the adventures of our captain became of a more apocryphal sort. It was known that he reached the West Indies in safety, for he was once seen at Port Royal and twice at Spanish Town, in the island of Jamaica. Thereafter, however, he disappeared; nor was it until several years later that the world heard anything concerning him. One day a certain Nicholas Duckworthy, who had once been gunner aboard the pirate captain's own ship, _The Good Fortune_, was arrested in the town of Bristol in the very act of attempting to sell to a merchant of that place several valuable gems from a quantity which he carried with him tied up in a red bandanna handkerchief. In the confession of which Duckworthy afterward delivered himself he declared that Captain Keitt, after his great adventure, having sailed from Africa in safety, and so reached the shores of the New World, had wrecked _The Good Fortune_ on a coral reef off the Windward Islands; that he then immediately deserted the ship, and together with Duckworthy himself, the sailing master (who was a Portuguese), the captain of a brig, _The Bloody Hand_ (a consort of Keitt's), and a villainous rascal named Hunt (who, occupying no precise position among the pirates, was at once the instigator of and the partaker in the greatest part of Captain Keitt's wickednesses), made his way to the nearest port of safety. These five worthies at last fetched the island of Jamaica, bringing with them all of the jewels and some of the gold that had been captured from _The Sun of the East_. But, upon coming to a division of their booty, it was presently discovered that the Rajah's ruby had mysteriously disappeared from the collection of jewels to be divided. The other pirates immediately suspected their captain of having secretly purloined it, and, indeed, so certain were they of his turpitude that they immediately set about taking means to force a confession from him. In this, however, they were so far unsuccessful that the captain, refusing to yield to their importunities, had suffered himself to die under their hands, and had so carried the secret of the hiding place of the great ruby--if he possessed such a secret--along with him. [Illustration: CAPTAIN KEITT] Duckworthy concluded his confession by declaring that in his opinion he himself, the Portuguese sailing master, the captain of _The Bloody Hand_, and Hunt were the only ones of Captain Keitt's crew who were now alive; for that _The Good Fortune_ must have broken up in a storm, which immediately followed their desertion of her; in which event the entire crew must inevitably have perished. It may be added that Duckworthy himself was shortly hanged, so that, if his surmise was true, there were now only three left alive of all that wicked crew that had successfully carried to its completion the greatest adventure which any pirate in the world had ever, perhaps, embarked upon. I _Jonathan Rugg_ You may never know what romantic aspirations may lie hidden beneath the most sedate and sober demeanor. To have observed Jonathan Rugg, who was a tall, lean, loose-jointed young Quaker of a somewhat forbidding aspect, with straight, dark hair and a bony, overhanging forehead set into a frown, a pair of small, deep-set eyes, and a square jaw, no one would for a moment have suspected that he concealed beneath so serious an exterior any appetite for romantic adventure. Nevertheless, finding himself suddenly transported, as it were, from the quiet of so sober a town as that of Philadelphia to the tropical enchantment of Kingston, in the island of Jamaica, the night brilliant with a full moon that swung in an opal sky, the warm and luminous darkness replete with the mysteries of a tropical night, and burdened with the odors of a land breeze, he suddenly discovered himself to be overtaken with so vehement a desire for some unwonted excitement that, had the opportunity presented itself, he felt himself ready to embrace any adventure with the utmost eagerness, no matter whither it would have conducted him. At home (where he was a clerk in the countinghouse of a leading merchant, by name Jeremiah Doolittle), should such idle fancies have come to him, he would have looked upon himself as little better than a fool, but now that he found himself for the first time in a foreign country, surrounded by such strange and unusual sights and sounds, all conducive to extravagant imaginations, the wish for some extraordinary and altogether unusual experience took possession of him with a singular vehemence to which he had heretofore been altogether a stranger. In the street where he stood, which was of a shining whiteness and which reflected the effulgence of the moonlight with an incredible distinction, he observed, stretching before him, long lines of white garden walls, overtopped by a prodigious luxuriance of tropical foliage. In these gardens, and set close to the street, stood several pretentious villas and mansions, the slatted blinds and curtains of the windows of which were raised to admit of the freer entrance of the cool and balmy air of the night. From within there issued forth bright lights, together with the exhilarating sound of merry voices laughing and talking, or perhaps a song accompanied by the tinkling music of a spinet or of a guitar. An occasional group of figures, clad in light and summerlike garments, and adorned with gay and startling colors, passed him through the moonlight; so that what with the brightness and warmth of the night, together with all these unusual sights and sounds, it appeared to Jonathan Rugg that he was rather the inhabitant of some extraordinary land of enchantment and unreality than a dweller upon that sober and solid world in which he had heretofore passed his entire existence. Before continuing this narrative the reader may here be informed that our hero had come into this enchanted world as the supercargo of the ship _Susanna Hayes_, of Philadelphia; that he had for several years proved himself so honest and industrious a servant to the merchant house of the worthy Jeremiah Doolittle that that benevolent man had given to his well-deserving clerk this opportunity at once of gratifying an inclination for foreign travel and of filling a position of trust that should redound to his individual profit. The _Susanna Hayes_ had entered Kingston harbor that afternoon, and this was Jonathan's first night spent in those tropical latitudes, whither his fancy and his imagination had so often carried him while he stood over the desk filing the accounts of invoices from foreign parts. It might be finally added that, had he at all conceived how soon and to what a degree his sudden inclination for adventure was to be gratified, his romantic aspirations might have been somewhat dashed at the prospect that lay before him. II _The Mysterious Lady with the Silver Veil_ At that moment our hero suddenly became conscious of the fact that a small wicket in a wooden gate near which he stood had been opened, and that the eyes of an otherwise concealed countenance were observing him with the utmost closeness of scrutiny. He had hardly time to become aware of this observation of his person when the gate itself was opened, and there appeared before him, in the moonlight, the bent and crooked figure of an aged negress. She was clad in a calamanco raiment, and was further adorned with a variety of gaudily colored trimmings, vastly suggestive of the tropical world of which she was an inhabitant. Her woolly head was enveloped, after the fashion of her people, in the folds of a gigantic and flaming red turban constructed of an entire pocket handkerchief. Her face was pock-pitted to an incredible degree, so that what with this deformity, emphasized by the pouting of her prodigious and shapeless lips, and the rolling of a pair of eyes as yellow as saffron, Jonathan Rugg thought that he had never beheld a figure at once so extraordinary and so repulsive. It occurred to our hero that here, maybe, was to overtake him such an adventure as that which he had just a moment before been desiring so ardently. Nor was he mistaken; for the negress, first looking this way and then that, with an extremely wary and cunning expression, and apparently having satisfied herself that the street, for the moment, was pretty empty of passers, beckoned to him to draw nearer. When he had approached close enough to her she caught him by the sleeve, and, instantly drawing him into the garden beyond, shut and bolted the gate with a quickness and a silence suggestive of the most extravagant secrecy. At the same moment a huge negro suddenly appeared from the shadow of the gatepost, and so placed himself between Jonathan and the gate that any attempt to escape would inevitably have entailed a conflict, upon our hero's part, with the sable and giant guardian. Says the negress, looking very intently at our hero, "Be you afeared, Buckra?" "Why, no," quoth Jonathan; "for to tell thee the truth, friend, though I am a man of peace, being of that religious order known as the Society of Friends, I am not so weak in person nor so timid in disposition as to warrant me in being afraid of anyone. Indeed, were I of a mind to escape, I might, without boasting, declare my belief that I should be able to push my way past even a better man than thy large friend who stands so threateningly in front of yonder gate." At these words the negress broke into so prodigious a grin that, in the moonlight, it appeared as though the whole lower part of her face had been transformed into shining teeth. "You be a brave Buckra," said she, in her gibbering English. "You come wid Melina, and Melina take you to pretty lady, who want you to eat supper wid her." Thereupon, and allowing our hero no opportunity to decline this extraordinary invitation, even had he been of a mind to do so, she took him by the hand and led him toward the large and imposing house which commanded the garden. "Indeed," says Jonathan to himself, as he followed his sable guide--himself followed in turn by the gigantic negro--"indeed, I am like to have my fill of adventure, if anything is to be judged from such a beginning as this." Nor did the interior sumptuousness of the mansion at all belie the imposing character of its exterior, for, entering by way of an illuminated veranda, and so coming into a brilliantly lighted hallway beyond, Jonathan beheld himself to be surrounded by such a wealth of exquisite and well-appointed tastefulness as it had never before been his good fortune to behold. Candles of clarified wax sparkled like stars in chandeliers of crystal. These in turn, catching the illumination, glittered in prismatic fragments with all the varied colors of the rainbow, so that a mellow yet brilliant radiance filled the entire apartment. Polished mirrors of a spotless clearness, framed in golden frames and built into the walls, reflected the waxed floors, the rich Oriental carpets, and the sumptuous paintings that hung against the ivory-tinted paneling, so that in appearance the beauties of the apartment were continued in bewildering vistas upon every side toward which the beholder directed his gaze. Bidding our hero to be seated, which he did with no small degree of embarrassment and constraint, and upon the extreme edge of the gilt and satin-covered chair, the negress who had been his conductor left him for the time being to his own contemplation. Almost before he had an opportunity to compose himself into anything more than a part of his ordinary sedateness of demeanor, the silken curtains at the doorway at the other end of the apartment were suddenly divided, and Jonathan beheld before him a female figure displaying the most exquisite contour of mold and of proportion. She was clad entirely in white, and was enveloped from head to foot in the folds of a veil of delicate silver gauze, which, though hiding her countenance from recognition, nevertheless permitted sufficient of her beauties to be discerned to suggest the extreme elegance and loveliness of her lineaments. Advancing toward our hero, and extending to him a tapering hand as white as alabaster, the fingers encircled with a multitude of jeweled rings, she addressed him thus: "Sir," she said, speaking in accents of the most silvery and musical cadence, "you are no doubt vastly surprised to find yourself thus unexpectedly, and almost as by violence, introduced into the house of one who is such an entire stranger to you as myself. But though I am unknown to you, I must inform you that I am better acquainted with my visitor, for my agents have been observing you ever since you landed this afternoon at the dock, and they have followed you ever since, until a little while ago, when you stopped immediately opposite my garden gate. These agents have observed you with a closeness of scrutiny of which you are doubtless entirely unaware. They have even informed me that, owing doubtless to your extreme interest in your new surroundings, you have not as yet supped. Knowing this, and that you must now be enjoying a very hearty appetite, I have to ask you if you will do me the extreme favor of sitting at table with me at a repast which you will doubtless be surprised to learn has been hastily prepared entirely in your honor." So saying, and giving Jonathan no time for reply, she offered him her hand, and with the most polite insistence conducted him into an exquisitely appointed dining room adjoining. Here stood a table covered with a snow-white cloth, and embellished with silver and crystal ornaments of every description. Having seated herself and having indicated to Jonathan to take the chair opposite to her, the two were presently served with a repast such as our hero had not thought could have existed out of the pages of certain extraordinary Oriental tales which one time had fallen to his lot to read. This supper (which in itself might successfully have tempted the taste of a Sybarite) was further enhanced by several wines and cordials which, filling the room with the aroma of the sunlit grapes from which they had been expressed, stimulated the appetite, which without them needed no such spur. The lady, who ate but sparingly herself, possessed herself with patience until Jonathan's hunger had been appeased. When, however, she beheld that he weakened in his attacks upon the dessert of sweets with which the banquet was concluded, she addressed him upon the business which was evidently entirely occupying her mind. "Sir," said she, "you are doubtless aware that everyone, whether man or woman, is possessed of an enemy. In my own case I must inform you that I have no less than three who, to compass their ends, would gladly sacrifice my life itself to their purposes. At no time am I safe from their machinations, nor have I anyone," cried she, exhibiting a great emotion, "to whom I may turn in my need. It was this that led me to hope to find in you a friend in my perils, for, having observed through my agents that you are not only honest in disposition and strong in person, but that you are possessed of a considerable degree of energy and determination, I am most desirous of imposing upon your good nature a trust of which you cannot for a moment suspect the magnitude. Tell me, are you willing to assist a poor, defenseless female in her hour of trial?" "Indeed, friend," quoth Jonathan, with more vivacity than he usually exhibited, with a lenity to which he had heretofore in his lifetime been a stranger--being warmed into such a spirit, doubtless, by the generous wines of which he had partaken--"indeed, friend, if I could but see thy face it would doubtless make my decision in such a matter the more favorable, since I am inclined to think, from the little I can behold of it, that thy appearance must be extremely comely to the eye." "Sir," said the lady, exhibiting some amusement at this unexpected sally, "I am, you must know, as God made me. Sometime, perhaps, I may be very glad to satisfy your curiosity, and exhibit to you my poor countenance such as it is. But now"--and here she reverted to her more serious mood--"I must again put it to you: are you willing to help an unprotected woman in a period of very great danger to herself? Should you decline the assistance which I solicit, my slaves shall conduct you to the gate through which you entered, and suffer you to depart in peace. Should you, upon the other hand, accept the trust, you are to receive no reward therefor, except the gratitude of one who thus appeals to you in her helplessness." For a few moments Jonathan fell silent, for here, indeed, was he entering into an adventure which infinitely surpassed any anticipation that he could have formed. He was, besides, of a cautious nature, and was entirely disinclined to embark in any affair so obscure and tangled as that in which he now found himself becoming involved. "Friend," said he, at last, "I may tell thee that thy story has so far moved me as to give me every inclination to help thee in thy difficulties, but I must also inform thee that I am a man of caution, having never before entered into any business of this sort. Therefore, before giving any promise that may bind my future actions, I must, in common wisdom, demand to know what are the conditions that thou hast in mind to impose upon me." "Indeed, sir," cried the lady, with great vivacity and with more cheerful accents--as though her mind had been relieved of a burden of fear that her companion might at once have declined even a consideration of her request--"indeed, sir, you will find that the trust which I would impose upon you is in appearance no such great matter as my words may have led you to suppose. "You must know that I am possessed of a little trinket which, in the hands of anyone who, like yourself, is a stranger in these parts, would possess no significance, but which while in my keeping is fraught with infinite menace to me." Hereupon, and having so spoken, she clapped her hands, and an attendant immediately entered, disclosing the person of the same negress who had first introduced Jonathan into the strange adventure in which he now found himself involved. This creature, who appeared still more deformed and repulsive in the brilliantly lighted room than she had in the moonlight, carried in her hands a white napkin, which she handed to her mistress. This being opened, disclosed a small ivory ball of about the bigness of a lime. Nodding to the negress to withdraw, the lady handed him the ivory ball, and Jonathan took it with no small degree of curiosity and examined it carefully. It appeared to be of an exceeding antiquity, and of so deep a yellow as to be almost brown in color. It was covered over with strange figures and characters of an Oriental sort, which appeared to our hero to be of Chinese workmanship. "I must tell you, sir," said the lady, after she had permitted her guest to examine this for a while in silence, "that though this appears to you to be of little worth, it is yet of extreme value. After all, however, it is nothing but a curiosity that anyone who is interested in such matters might possess. What I have to ask you is this: will you be willing to take this into your charge, to guard it with the utmost care and fidelity--yes, even as the apple of your eye--during your continuance in these parts, and to return it to me in safety the day before your departure? By so doing you will render me a service which you may neither understand nor comprehend, but which shall make me your debtor for my entire life." By this time Jonathan had pretty well composed his mind for a reply. "Friend," said he, "such a matter as this is entirely out of my knowledge of business, which is, indeed, that of a clerk in the mercantile profession. Nevertheless, I have every inclination to help thee, though I trust thou mayest have magnified the dangers that beset thee. This appears to me to be a little trifle for such an ado; nevertheless, I will do as thou dost request. I will keep it in safety and will return it to thee upon this day a week hence, by which time I hope to have discharged my cargo and be ready to continue my voyage to Demerara." At these words the lady, who had been watching him all the time with a most unaccountable eagerness, burst forth into words of such heartfelt gratitude as to entirely overwhelm our hero. When her transports had been somewhat assuaged she permitted him to depart, and the negress conducted him back through the garden, whence she presently showed him through the gate whither he had entered and out into the street. III _The Terrific Encounter with the One-Eyed Little Gentleman in Black_ Finding himself once more in the open street, Jonathan Rugg stood for a while in the moonlight, endeavoring to compose his mind into somewhat of that sobriety that was habitual with him; for, indeed, he was not a little excited by the unexpected incidents that had just befallen him. From this effort at composure he was aroused by observing that a little gentleman clad all in black had stopped at a little distance away and was looking very intently at him. In the brightness of the moonlight our hero could see that the little gentleman possessed but a single eye, and that he carried a gold-headed cane in his hand. He had hardly time to observe these particulars, when the other approached him with every appearance of politeness and cordiality. "Sir," said he, "surely I am not mistaken in recognizing in you the supercargo of the ship _Susanna Hayes_, which arrived this afternoon at this port?" "Indeed," said Jonathan, "thou art right, friend. That is my occupation, and that is whence I came." "To be sure!" said the little gentleman. "To be sure! To be sure! The _Susanna Hayes_, with a cargo of Indian-corn meal, and from my dear good friend Jeremiah Doolittle, of Philadelphia. I know your good master very well--very well indeed. And have you never heard him speak of his friend Mr. Abner Greenway, of Kingston, Jamaica?" "Why, no," replied Jonathan, "I have no such recollection of the name--nor do I know that any such name hath ever appeared upon our books." "To be sure! To be sure!" repeated the little gentleman, briskly, and with exceeding good nature. "Indeed, my name is not likely to have ever appeared upon your employer's books, for I am not a business correspondent, but one who, in times past, was his extremely intimate friend. There is much I would like to ask about him, and, indeed, I was in hopes that you would have been the bearer of a letter from him. But I have lodgings at a little distance from here, so that if it is not requesting too much of you maybe you will accompany me thither, so that we may talk at our leisure. I would gladly accompany you to your ship instead of urging you to come to my apartments, but I must tell you I am possessed of a devil of a fever, so that my physician hath forbidden me to be out of nights." "Indeed," said Jonathan, who, you may have observed, was of a very easy disposition--"indeed, I shall be very glad to accompany thee to thy lodgings. There is nothing I would like better than to serve any friend of good Jeremiah Doolittle's." And thereupon, and with great amity, the two walked off together, the little one-eyed gentleman in black linking his arm confidingly into that of Jonathan's, and tapping the pavement continually with his cane as he trotted on at a great pace. He was very well acquainted with the town (of which he was a citizen), and so interesting was his discourse that they had gone a considerable distance before Jonathan observed they were entering into a quarter darker and less frequented than that which they had quitted. Tall brick houses stood upon either side, between which stretched a narrow, crooked roadway, with a kennel running down the center. In front of one of these houses--a tall and gloomy structure--our hero's conductor stopped and, opening the door with a key, beckoned for him to enter. Jonathan having complied, his new-found friend led the way up a flight of steps, against which Jonathan's feet beat noisily in the darkness, and at length, having ascended two stairways and having reached a landing, he opened a door at the end of the passage and ushered Jonathan into an apartment, unlighted, except for the moonshine, which, coming in through a partly open shutter, lay in a brilliant patch of light upon the floor. His conductor having struck a light with a flint and steel, our hero by the illumination of a single candle presently discovered himself to be in a bedchamber furnished with no small degree of comfort, and even elegance, and having every appearance of a bachelor's chamber. "You will pardon me," said his new acquaintance, "if I shut these shutters and the window, for that devilish fever of which I spoke is of such a sort that I must keep the night air even out from my room, or else I shall be shaking the bones out of my joints and chattering the teeth out of my head by to-morrow morning." So saying he was as good as his word, and not only drew the shutters to, but shot the heavy iron bolt into its place. Having accomplished this he bade our hero to be seated, and placing before him some exceedingly superior rum, together with some equally excellent tobacco, they presently fell into the friendliest discourse imaginable. In the course of their talk, which after a while became exceedingly confidential, Jonathan confided to his new friend the circumstances of the adventure into which he had been led by the beautiful stranger, and to all that he said concerning his adventure his interlocutor listened with the closest and most scrupulously riveted attention. [Illustration: How the Buccaneers Kept Christmas _Originally published in_ HARPER'S WEEKLY, _December 16, 1899_] "Upon my word," said he, when Jonathan had concluded, "I hope that you may not have been made the victim of some foolish hoax. Let me see what it is she has confided to you." "That I will," replied Jonathan. And thereupon he thrust his hand into his breeches' pocket and brought forth the ivory ball. No sooner did the one eye of the little gentleman in black light upon the object than a most singular and extraordinary convulsion appeared to seize upon him. Had a bullet penetrated his heart he could not have started more violently, nor have sat more rigidly and breathlessly staring. Mastering his emotion with the utmost difficulty as Jonathan replaced the ball in his pocket, he drew a deep and profound breath and wiped the palm of his hand across his forehead as though arousing himself from a dream. "And you," he said, of a sudden, "are, I understand it, a Quaker. Do you, then, never carry a weapon, even in such a place as this, where at any moment in the dark a Spanish knife may be stuck betwixt your ribs?" "Why, no," said Jonathan, somewhat surprised that so foreign a topic should have been so suddenly introduced into the discourse. "I am a man of peace and not of blood. The people of the Society of Friends never carry weapons, either of offense or defense." As Jonathan concluded his reply the little gentleman suddenly arose from his chair and moved briskly around to the other side of the room. Our hero, watching him with some surprise, beheld him clap to the door and with a single movement shoot the bolt and turn the key therein. The next instant he turned to Jonathan a visage transformed as suddenly as though he had dropped a mask from his face. The gossiping and polite little old bachelor was there no longer, but in his stead a man with a countenance convulsed with some furious and nameless passion. "That ball!" he cried, in a hoarse and raucous voice. "That ivory ball! Give it to me upon the instant!" As he spoke he whipped out from his bosom a long, keen Spanish knife that in its every appearance spoke without equivocation of the most murderous possibilities. The malignant passions that distorted every lineament of the countenance of the little old gentleman in black filled our hero with such astonishment that he knew not whether he were asleep or awake; but when he beheld the other advancing with the naked and shining knife in his hand his reason returned to him like a flash. Leaping to his feet, he lost no time in putting the table between himself and his sudden enemy. "Indeed, friend," he cried, in a voice penetrated with terror--"indeed, friend, thou hadst best keep thy distance from me, for though I am a man of peace and a shunner of bloodshed, I promise thee that I will not stand still to be murdered without outcry or without endeavoring to defend my life!" "Cry as loud as you please!" exclaimed the other. "No one is near this place to hear you! Cry until you are hoarse; no one in this neighborhood will stop to ask what is the matter with you. I tell you I am determined to possess myself of that ivory ball, and have it I shall, even though I am obliged to cut out your heart to get it!" As he spoke he grinned with so extraordinary and devilish a distortion of his countenance, and with such an appearance of every intention of carrying out his threat as to send the goose flesh creeping like icy fingers up and down our hero's spine with the most incredible rapidity and acuteness. Nevertheless, mastering his fears, Jonathan contrived to speak up with a pretty good appearance of spirit. "Indeed, friend," he said, "thou appearest to forget that I am a man of twice thy bulk and half thy years, and that though thou hast a knife I am determined to defend myself to the last extremity. I am not going to give thee that which thou demandest of me, and for thy sake I advise thee to open the door and let me go free as I entered, or else harm may befall thee." "Fool!" cried the other, hardly giving him time to end. "Do you, then, think that I have time to chatter with you while two villains are lying in wait for me, perhaps at the very door? Blame your own self for your death!" And, gnashing his teeth with an indescribable menace, and resting his hand upon the table, he vaulted with incredible agility clean across it and upon our hero, who, entirely unprepared for such an extraordinary attack, was flung back against the wall, with an arm as strong as steel clutching his throat and a knife flashing in his very eyes with dreadful portent of instant death. With an instinct to preserve his life, he caught his assailant by the wrist, and, bending it away from himself, set every fiber of his body in a superhuman effort to guard and protect himself. The other, though so much older and smaller, seemed to be composed entirely of fibers of steel, and, in his murderous endeavors, put forth a strength so extraordinary that for a moment our hero felt his heart melt within him with terror for his life. The spittle appeared to dry up within his mouth, and his hair to creep and rise upon his head. With a vehement cry of despair and anguish, he put forth one stupendous effort for defense, and, clapping his heel behind the other's leg, and throwing his whole weight forward, he fairly tripped his antagonist backward as he stood. Together they fell upon the floor, locked in the most desperate embrace, and overturning a chair with a prodigious clatter in their descent--our hero upon the top and the little gentleman in black beneath him. As they struck the floor the little man in black emitted a most piercing and terrible scream, and instantly relaxing his efforts of attack, fell to beating the floor with the back of his hands and drubbing with his heels upon the rug in which he had become entangled. Our hero leaped to his feet, and with dilating eyes and expanding brain and swimming sight stared down upon the other like one turned to a stone. He beheld instantly what had occurred, and that he had, without so intending, killed a fellow man. The knife, turned away from his own person, had in their fall been plunged into the bosom of the other, and he now lay quivering in the last throes of death. As Jonathan gazed he beheld a thin red stream trickle out from the parted and grinning lips; he beheld the eyes turn inward; he beheld the eyelids contract; he beheld the figure stretch itself; he beheld it become still in death. IV _The Momentous Adventure with the Stranger with the Silver Earrings_ So our hero stood stunned and bedazed, gazing down upon his victim, like a man turned into a stone. His brain appeared to him to expand like a bubble, the blood surged and hummed in his ears with every gigantic beat of his heart, his vision swam, and his trembling hands were bedewed with a cold and repugnant sweat. The dead figure upon the floor at his feet gazed at him with a wide, glassy stare, and in the confusion of his mind it appeared to Jonathan that he was, indeed, a murderer. What monstrous thing was this that had befallen him who, but a moment before, had been so entirely innocent of the guilt of blood? What was he now to do in such an extremity as this, with his victim lying dead at his feet, a poniard in his heart? Who would believe him to be guiltless of crime with such a dreadful evidence as this presented against him? How was he, a stranger in a foreign land, to totally defend himself against an accusation of mistaken justice? At these thoughts a developed terror gripped at his vitals and a sweat as cold as ice bedewed his entire body. No, he must tarry for no explanation or defense! He must immediately fly from this terrible place, or else, should he be discovered, his doom would certainly be sealed! At that moment, and in the very extremity of his apprehensions, there fell of a sudden a knock upon the door, sounding so loud and so startling upon the silence of the room that every shattered nerve in our hero's frame tingled and thrilled in answer to it. He stood petrified, scarcely so much as daring to breathe; and then, observing that his mouth was agape, he moistened his dry and parching lips, and drew his jaws together with a snap. Again there fell the same loud, insistent knock upon the panel, followed by the imperative words, "Open within!" The wretched Jonathan flung about him a glance at once of terror and of despair, but there was for him no possible escape. He was shut tight in the room with his dead victim, like a rat in a trap. Nothing remained for him but to obey the summons from without. Indeed, in the very extremity of his distraction, he possessed reason enough to perceive that the longer he delayed opening the door the less innocent he might hope to appear in the eyes of whoever stood without. With the uncertain and spasmodic movements of an ill-constructed automaton, he crossed the room, and stepping very carefully over the prostrate body upon the floor, and with a hesitating reluctance that he could in no degree master, he unlocked, unbolted, and opened the door. The figure that outlined itself in the light of the candle, against the blackness of the passageway without, was of such a singular and foreign aspect as to fit extremely well into the extraordinary tragedy of which Jonathan was at once the victim and the cause. It was that of a lean, tall man with a thin, yellow countenance, embellished with a long, black mustache, and having a pair of forbidding, deeply set, and extremely restless black eyes. A crimson handkerchief beneath a lace cocked hat was tied tightly around the head, and a pair of silver earrings, which caught the light of the candle, gleamed and twinkled against the inky darkness of the passageway beyond. This extraordinary being, without favoring our hero with any word of apology for his intrusion, immediately thrust himself forward into the room, and stretching his long, lean, birdlike neck so as to direct his gaze over the intervening table, fixed a gaping and concentrated stare upon the figure lying still and motionless in the center of the room. "Vat you do dare," said he, with a guttural and foreign accent, and thereupon, without waiting for a reply, came forward and knelt down beside the dead man. After thrusting his hand into the silent and shrunken bosom, he presently looked up and fixed his penetrating eyes upon our hero's countenance, who, benumbed and bedazed with his despair, still stood like one enchained in the bonds of a nightmare. "He vas dead!" said the stranger, and Jonathan nodded his head in reply. "Vy you keel ze man?" inquired his interlocutor. "Indeed," cried Jonathan, finding a voice at last, but one so hoarse that he could hardly recognize it for his own, "I know not what to make of the affair! But, indeed, I do assure thee, friend, that I am entirely innocent of what thou seest." The stranger still kept his piercing gaze fixed upon our hero's countenance, and Jonathan, feeling that something further was demanded of him, continued: "I am, indeed, a victim of a most extravagant and extraordinary adventure. This evening, coming an entire stranger to this country, I was introduced into the house of a beautiful female, who bestowed upon me a charge that appeared to me to be at once insignificant and absurd. Behold this little ivory ball," said he, drawing the globe from his pocket, and displaying it between his thumb and finger. "It is this that appears to have brought all this disaster upon me; for, coming from the house of the young woman, the man whom thou now beholdest lying dead upon the floor induced me to come to this place. Having inveigled me hither, he demanded of me to give him at once this insignificant trifle. Upon my refusing to do so, he assaulted me with every appearance of a mad and furious inclination to deprive me of my life!" At the sight of the ivory ball the stranger quickly arose from his kneeling posture and fixed upon our hero a gaze the most extraordinary that he had ever encountered. His eyes dilated like those of a cat, the breath expelled itself from his bosom in so deep and profound an expiration that it appeared as though it might never return again. Nor was it until Jonathan had replaced the ball in his pocket that he appeared to awaken from the trance that the sight of the object had sent him into. But no sooner had the cause of this strange demeanor disappeared into our hero's breeches' pocket than he arose as with an electric shock. In an instant he became transformed as by the touch of magic. A sudden and baleful light flamed into his eyes, his face grew as red as blood, and he clapped his hand to his pocket with a sudden and violent motion. "Ze ball!" he cried, in a hoarse and strident voice. "Ze ball! Give me ze ball!" And upon the next instant our hero beheld the round and shining nozzle of a pistol pointed directly against his forehead. For a moment he stood as though transfixed; then in the mortal peril that faced him, he uttered a roar that sounded in his own ears like the outcry of a wild beast, and thereupon flung himself bodily upon the other with the violence and the fury of a madman. The stranger drew the trigger, and the powder flashed in the pan. He dropped the weapon, clattering, and in an instant tried to draw another from his other pocket. Before he could direct his aim, however, our hero had caught him by both wrists, and, bending his hand backward, prevented the chance of any shot from taking immediate effect upon his person. Then followed a struggle of extraordinary ferocity and frenzy--the stranger endeavoring to free his hand, and Jonathan striving with all the energy of despair to prevent him from effecting his murderous purpose. [Illustration] In the struggle our hero became thrust against the edge of the table. He felt as though his back were breaking, and became conscious that in such a situation he could hope to defend himself only a few moments longer. The stranger's face was pressed close to his own. His hot breath, strong with the odor of garlic, fanned our hero's cheek, while his lips, distended into a ferocious and ferine grin, displayed his sharp teeth shining in the candlelight. "Give me ze ball!" he said, in a harsh and furious whisper. At the moment there rang in Jonathan's ears the sudden and astounding detonation of a pistol shot, and for a moment he wondered whether he had received a mortal wound without being aware of it. Then suddenly he beheld an extraordinary and dreadful transformation take place in the countenance thrust so close to his own; the eyes winked several times with incredible rapidity, and then rolled upward and inward; the jaws gaped into a dreadful and cavernous yawn; the pistol fell with a clatter to the floor, and the next moment the muscles, so rigid but an instant before, relaxed into a limp and listless flaccidity. The joints collapsed, and the entire man fell into an indistinguishable heap upon and across the dead figure stretched out upon the floor, while at the same time a pungent and blinding cloud of gunpowder smoke filled the apartment. For a few moments the hands twitched convulsively; the neck stretched itself to an abominable length; the long, lean legs slowly and gradually relaxed, and every fiber of the body gradually collapsed into the lassitude of death. A spot of blood appeared and grew upon the collar at the throat, and in the same degree the color ebbed from the face, leaving it of a dull and leaden pallor. All these terrible and formidable changes of aspect our hero stood watching with a motionless and riveted attention, and as though they were to him matters of the utmost consequence and importance; and only when the last flicker of life had departed from his second victim did he lift his gaze from this terrible scene of dissolution to stare about him, this way and that, his eyes blinded, and his breath stifled by the thick cloud of sulphurous smoke that obscured the objects about him in a pungent cloud. V _The Unexpected Encounter with the Sea Captain with the Broken Nose_ If our hero had been distracted and bedazed by the first catastrophe that had befallen, this second and even more dreadful and violent occurrence appeared to take away from him, for the moment, every power of thought and of sensation. All that perturbation of emotion that had before convulsed him he discovered to have disappeared, and in its stead a benumbed and blinded intelligence alone remained to him. As he stood in the presence of this second death, of which he had been as innocent and as unwilling an instrument as he had of the first, he could observe no signs either of remorse or of horror within him. He picked up his hat, which had fallen upon the floor in the first encounter, and, brushing away the dust with the cuff of his coat sleeve with extraordinary care, adjusted the beaver upon his head with the utmost nicety. Then turning, still stupefied as with the fumes of some powerful drug, he prepared to quit the scene of tragic terrors that had thus unexpectedly accumulated upon him. But ere he could put his design into execution his ears were startled by the sound of loud and hurried footsteps which, coming from below, ascended the stairs with a prodigious clatter and bustle of speed. At the landing these footsteps paused for a while, and then approached, more cautious and deliberate, toward the room where the double tragedy had been enacted, and where our hero yet stood silent and inert. All this while Jonathan made no endeavor to escape, but stood passive and submissive to what might occur. He felt himself the victim of circumstances over which he himself had no control. Gazing at the partly opened door, he waited for whatever adventure might next befall him. Once again the footsteps paused, this time at the very threshold, and then the door was slowly pushed open from without. As our hero gazed at the aperture there presently became disclosed to his view the strong and robust figure of one who was evidently of a seafaring habit. From the gold braid upon his hat, the seals dangling from the ribbon at his fob, and a certain particularity of custom, he was evidently one of no small consideration in his profession. He was of a strong and powerful build, with a head set close to his shoulders, and upon a round, short bull neck. He wore a black cravat, loosely tied into a knot, and a red waistcoat elaborately trimmed with gold braid; a leather belt with a brass buckle and hanger, and huge sea boots completed a costume singularly suggestive of his occupation in life. His face was round and broad, like that of a cat, and a complexion stained, by constant exposure to the sun and wind, to a color of newly polished mahogany. But a countenance which otherwise might have been humorous, in this case was rendered singularly repulsive by the fact that his nose had been broken so flat to his face that all that remained to distinguish that feature were two circular orifices where the nostrils should have been. His eyes were by no means so sinister as the rest of his visage, being of a light-gray color and exceedingly vivacious--even good-natured in the merry restlessness of their glance--albeit they were well-nigh hidden beneath a black bush of overhanging eyebrows. When he spoke, his voice was so deep and resonant that it was as though it issued from a barrel rather than from the breast of a human being. "How now, my hearty!" cried he, in stentorian tones, so loud that they seemed to stun the tensely drawn drums of our hero's ears. "How now, my hearty! What's to do here? Who is shooting pistols at this hour of the night?" Then, catching sight of the figures lying in a huddle upon the floor, his great, thick lips parted into a gape of wonder and his gray eyes rolled in his head like two balls, so that what with his flat face and the round holes of his nostrils he presented an appearance which, under other circumstances, would have been at once ludicrous and grotesque. "By the blood!" cried he, "to be sure it is murder that has happened here." "Not murder!" cried Jonathan, in a shrill and panting voice. "Not murder! It was all an accident, and I am as innocent as a baby." The newcomer looked at him and then at the two figures upon the floor, and then back at him again with eyes at once quizzical and cunning. Then his face broke into a grin that might hardly be called of drollery. "Accident!" quoth he. "By the blood! d'ye see 'tis a strange accident, indeed, that lays two men by the heels and lets the third go without a scratch!" Delivering himself thus, he came forward into the room, and, taking the last victim of Jonathan's adventure by the arm, with as little compunction as he would have handled a sack of grain he dragged the limp and helpless figure from where it lay to the floor beside the first victim. Then, lifting the lighted candle, he bent over the two prostrate bodies, holding the illumination close to the lineaments first of one and then of the other. He looked at them very carefully for a long while, with the closest and most intent scrutiny, and in perfect silence. "They are both as dead," says he, "as Davy Jones, and, whoever you be, I protest that you have done your business the most completest that I ever saw in all of my life." "Indeed," cried Jonathan, in the same shrill and panting voice, "it was themselves who did it. First one of them attacked me and then the other, and I did but try to keep them from murdering me. This one fell on his knife, and that one shot himself in his efforts to destroy me." "That," says the seaman, "you may very well tell to a dry-lander, and maybe he will believe you; but you cannot so easily pull the wool over the eyes of Captain Benny Willitts. And what, if I may be so bold as for to ask you, was the reason for their attacking so harmless a man as you proclaim yourself to be?" [Illustration: The Burning Ship _Originally published in_ COLLIER'S WEEKLY, _1898_] "That I know not," cried Jonathan; "but I am entirely willing to tell thee all the circumstances. Thou must know that I am a member of the Society of Friends. This day I landed here in Kingston, and met a young woman of very comely appearance, who intrusted me with this little ivory ball, which she requested me to keep for her a few days. The sight of this ball--in which I can detect nothing that could be likely to arouse any feelings of violence--appears to have driven these two men entirely mad, so that they instantly made the most ferocious and murderous assault upon me. See! wouldst thou have believed that so small a thing as this would have caused so much trouble?" And as he spoke he held up to the gaze of the other the cause of the double tragedy that had befallen. But no sooner had Captain Willitts's eyes lighted upon the ball than the most singular change passed over his countenance. The color appeared to grow dull and yellow in his ruddy cheeks, his fat lips dropped apart, and his eyes stared with a fixed and glassy glare. He arose to his feet and, still with the expression of astonishment and wonder upon his face, gazed first at our hero and then at the ivory ball in his hands, as though he were deprived both of reason and of speech. At last, as our hero slipped the trifle back in his pocket again, the mariner slowly recovered himself, though with a prodigious effort, and drew a deep and profound breath as to the very bottom of his lungs. He wiped, with the corner of his black-silk cravat, his brow, upon which the sweat appeared to have gathered. "Well, messmate," says he, at last, with a sudden change of voice, "you have, indeed, had a most wonderful adventure." Then with another deep breath: "Well, by the blood! I may tell you plainly that I am no poor hand at the reading of faces. Well, I think you to be honest, and I am inclined to believe every word you tell me. By the blood! I am prodigiously sorry for you, and am inclined to help you out of your scrape. "The first thing to do," he continued, "is to get rid of these two dead men, and that is an affair I believe we shall have no trouble in handling. One of them we will wrap up in the carpet here, and t'other we can roll into yonder bed curtain. You shall carry the one and I the other, and, the harbor being at no great distance, we can easily bring them thither and tumble them overboard, and no one will be the wiser of what has happened. For your own safety, as you may easily see, you can hardly go away and leave these objects here to be found by the first comer, and to rise up in evidence against you." This reasoning, in our hero's present bewildered state, appeared to him to be so extremely just that he raised not the least objection to it. Accordingly, each of the two silent, voiceless victims of the evening's occurrences was wrapped into a bundle that from without appeared to be neither portentous nor terrible in appearance. Thereupon, Jonathan shouldering the rug containing the little gentleman in black, and the sea captain doing the like for the other, they presently made their way down the stairs through the darkness, and so out into the street. Here the sea captain became the conductor of the expedition, and leading the way down several alleys and along certain by-streets--now and then stopping to rest, for the burdens were both heavy and clumsy to carry--they both came out at last to the harbor front, without anyone having questioned them or having appeared to suspect them of anything wrong. At the waterside was an open wharf extending a pretty good distance out into the harbor. Thither the captain led the way and Jonathan followed. So they made their way out along the wharf or pier, stumbling now and then over loose boards, until they came at last to where the water was of a sufficient depth for their purpose. Here the captain, bending his shoulders, shot his burden out into the dark, mysterious waters, and Jonathan, following his example, did the same. Each body sank with a sullen and leaden splash into the element, where, the casings which swathed them becoming loosened, the rug and the curtain rose to the surface and drifted slowly away with the tide. As Jonathan stood gazing dully at the disappearance of these last evidences of his two inadvertent murders, he was suddenly and vehemently aroused by feeling a pair of arms of enormous strength flung about him from behind. In their embrace his elbows were instantly pinned tight to his side, and he stood for a moment helpless and astounded, while the voice of the sea captain, rumbling in his very ear, exclaimed, "Ye bloody, murthering Quaker, I'll have that ivory ball, or I'll have your life!" [Illustration] These words produced the same effect upon Jonathan as though a douche of cold water had suddenly been flung over him. He began instantly to struggle to free himself, and that with a frantic and vehement violence begotten at once of terror and despair. So prodigious were his efforts that more than once he had nearly torn himself free, but still the powerful arms of his captor held him as in a vise of iron. Meantime, our hero's assailant made frequent though ineffectual attempts to thrust a hand into the breeches' pocket where the ivory ball was hidden, swearing the while under his breath with a terrifying and monstrous string of oaths. At last, finding himself foiled in every such attempt, and losing all patience at the struggles of his victim, he endeavored to lift Jonathan off of his feet, as though to dash him bodily upon the ground. In this he would doubtless have succeeded had he not caught his heel in the crack of a loose board of the wharf. Instantly they both fell, violently prostrate, the captain beneath and Jonathan above him, though still encircled in his iron embrace. Our hero felt the back of his head strike violently upon the flat face of the other, and he heard the captain's skull sound with a terrific crack like that of a breaking egg upon some post or billet of wood, against which he must have struck. In their frantic struggles they had approached extremely near the edge of the wharf, so that the next instant, with an enormous and thunderous splash, Jonathan found himself plunged into the waters of the harbor, and the arms of his assailant loosened from about his body. The shock of the water brought him instantly to his senses, and, being a fairly good swimmer, he had not the least difficulty in reaching and clutching the crosspiece of a wooden ladder that, coated with slimy sea moss, led from the water level to the wharf above. After reaching the safety of the dry land once more, Jonathan gazed about him as though to discern whence the next attack might be delivered upon him. But he stood entirely alone upon the dock--not another living soul was in sight. The surface of the water exhibited some commotion, as though disturbed by something struggling beneath; but the sea captain, who had doubtless been stunned by the tremendous crack upon his head, never arose again out of the element that had engulfed him. * * * * * The moonlight shone with a peaceful and resplendent illumination, and, excepting certain remote noises from the distant town, not a sound broke the silence and the peacefulness of the balmy, tropical night. The limpid water, illuminated by the resplendent moonlight, lapped against the wharf. All the world was calm, serene, and enveloped in a profound and entire repose. [Illustration: Dead Men Tell No Tales _Originally published in_ COLLIER'S WEEKLY, _December 17, 1899_] Jonathan looked up at the round and brilliant globe of light floating in the sky above his head, and wondered whether it were, indeed, possible that all that had befallen him was a reality and not some tremendous hallucination. Then suddenly arousing himself to a renewed realization of that which had occurred, he turned and ran like one possessed, up along the wharf, and so into the moonlit town once more. VI _The Conclusion of the Adventure with the Lady with the Silver Veil_ Nor did he check his precipitous flight until suddenly, being led perhaps by some strange influence of which he was not at all the master, he discovered himself to be standing before the garden gate where not more than an hour before he had first entered upon the series of monstrous adventures that had led to such tremendous conclusions. People were still passing and repassing, and one of these groups--a party of young ladies and gentlemen--paused upon the opposite side of the street to observe, with no small curiosity and amusement, his dripping and bedraggled aspect. But only one thought and one intention possessed our hero--to relieve himself as quickly as possible of that trust which he had taken up so thoughtlessly, and with such monstrous results to himself and to his victims. He ran to the gate of the garden and began beating and kicking upon it with a vehemence that he could neither master nor control. He was aware that the entire neighborhood was becoming aroused, for he beheld lights moving and loud voices of inquiry; yet he gave not the least thought to the disturbance he was creating, but continued without intermission his uproarious pounding upon the gate. At length, in answer to the sound of his vehement blows, the little wicket was opened and a pair of eyes appeared thereat. The next instant the gate was cast ajar very hastily, and the pock-pitted negress appeared. She caught him by the sleeve of his coat and drew him quickly into the garden. "Buckra, Buckra!" she cried. "What you doing? You wake de whole town!" Then, observing his dripping garments: "You been in de water. You catch de fever and shake till you die." "Thy mistress!" cried Jonathan, almost sobbing in the excess of his emotion; "take me to her upon the instant, or I cannot answer for my not going entirely mad!" When our hero was again introduced to the lady he found her clad in a loose and elegant negligee, infinitely becoming to her graceful figure, and still covered with the veil of silver gauze that had before enveloped her. "Friend," he cried, vehemently, approaching her and holding out toward her the little ivory ball, "take again this which thou gavest me! It has brought death to three men, and I know not what terrible fate may befall me if I keep it longer in my possession." "What is it you say?" cried she, in a piercing voice. "Did you say it hath caused the death of three men? Quick! Tell me what has happened, for I feel somehow a presage that you bring me news of safety and release from all my dangers." "I know not what thou meanest!" cried Jonathan, still panting with agitation. "But this I do know: that when I went away from thee I departed an innocent man, and now I come back to thee burdened with the weight of three lives, which, though innocent, I have been instrumental in taking." "Explain!" exclaimed the lady, tapping the floor with her foot. "Explain! explain! explain!" "That I will," cried Jonathan, "and as soon as I am able! When I left thee and went out into the street I was accosted by a little gentleman clad in black." "Indeed!" cried the lady. "And had he but one eye, and did he carry a gold-headed cane?" "Exactly," said Jonathan; "and he claimed acquaintance with friend Jeremiah Doolittle." "He never knew him!" cried the lady, vehemently; "and I must tell you that he was a villain named Hunt, who at one time was the intimate consort of the pirate Keitt. He it was who plunged a deadly knife into his captain's bosom, and so murdered him in this very house. He himself, or his agents, must have been watching my gate when you went forth." "I know not how that may be," said Jonathan, "but he took me to his apartment, and there, obtaining a knowledge of the trust thou didst burden me with, he demanded it of me, and upon my refusing to deliver it to him he presently fell to attacking me with a dagger. In my efforts to protect my life I inadvertently caused him to plunge the knife into his own bosom and to kill himself." "And what then?" cried the lady, who appeared well-nigh distracted with her emotions. "Then," said Jonathan, "there came a strange man--a foreigner--who upon his part assaulted me with a pistol, with every intention of murdering me and thus obtaining possession of that same little trifle." "And did he," exclaimed the lady, "have long, black mustachios, and did he have silver earrings in his ears?" "Yes," said Jonathan, "he did." "That," cried the lady, "could have been none other than Captain Keitt's Portuguese sailing master, who must have been spying upon Hunt! Tell me what happened next!" "He would have taken my life," said Jonathan, "but in the struggle that followed he shot himself accidentally with his own pistol, and died at my very feet. I do not know what would have happened to me if a sea captain had not come and proffered his assistance." "A sea captain!" she exclaimed; "and had he a flat face and a broken nose?" "Indeed he had," replied Jonathan. "That," said the lady, "must have been Captain Keitt's pirate partner--Captain Willitts, of _The Bloody Hand_. He was doubtless spying upon the Portuguese." "He induced me," said Jonathan, "to carry the two bodies down to the wharf. Having inveigled me there--where, I suppose, he thought no one could interfere--he assaulted me, and endeavored to take the ivory ball away from me. In my efforts to escape we both fell into the water, and he, striking his head upon the edge of the wharf, was first stunned and then drowned." "Thank God!" cried the lady, with a transport of fervor, and clasping her jeweled hands together. "At last I am free of those who have heretofore persecuted me and threatened my very life itself! You have asked to behold my face; I will now show it to you! Heretofore I have been obliged to keep it concealed lest, recognizing me, my enemies should have slain me." As she spoke she drew aside her veil, and disclosed to the vision of our hero a countenance of the most extraordinary and striking beauty. Her luminous eyes were like those of a Jawa, and set beneath exquisitely arched and penciled brows. Her forehead was like lustrous ivory and her lips like rose leaves. Her hair, which was as soft as the finest silk, was fastened up in masses of ravishing abundance. "I am," said she, "the daughter of that unfortunate Captain Keitt, who, though weak and a pirate, was not so wicked, I would have you know, as he has been painted. He would, doubtless, have been an honest man had he not been led astray by the villain Hunt, who so nearly compassed your destruction. He returned to this island before his death, and made me the sole heir of all that great fortune which he had gathered--perhaps not by the most honest means--in the waters of the Indian Ocean. But the greatest treasure of all that fortune bequeathed to me was a single jewel which you yourself have just now defended with a courage and a fidelity that I cannot sufficiently extol. It is that priceless gem known as the Ruby of Kishmoor. I will show it to you." [Illustration: "I AM THE DAUGHTER OF THAT UNFORTUNATE CAPTAIN KEITT"] Hereupon she took the little ivory ball in her hand, and, with a turn of her beautiful wrists, unscrewed a lid so nicely and cunningly adjusted that no eye could have detected where it was joined to the parent globe. Within was a fleece of raw silk containing an object which she presently displayed before the astonished gaze of our hero. It was a red stone of about the bigness of a plover's egg, and which glowed and flamed with such an exquisite and ruddy brilliancy as to dazzle even Jonathan's inexperienced eyes. Indeed, he did not need to be informed of the priceless value of the treasure, which he beheld in the rosy palm extended toward him. How long he gazed at this extraordinary jewel he knew not, but he was aroused from his contemplation by the sound of the lady's voice addressing him. "The three villains," said she, "who have this day met their deserts in a violent and bloody death, had by an accident obtained knowledge that this jewel was in my possession. Since then my life has hung upon a thread, and every step that I have taken has been watched by these enemies, the most cruel and relentless that it was ever the lot of any unfortunate to possess. From the mortal dangers of their machinations you have saved me, exhibiting a courage and a determination that cannot be sufficiently applauded. In this you have earned my deepest admiration and regard. I would rather," she cried, "intrust my life and my happiness to you than into the keeping of any man whom I have ever known! I cannot hope to reward you in such a way as to recompense you for the perils into which my necessities have thrust you; but yet"--and here she hesitated, as though seeking for words in which to express herself--"but yet if you are willing to accept of this jewel, and all of the fortune that belongs to me, together with the person of poor Evaline Keitt herself, not only the stone and the wealth, but the woman also, are yours to dispose of as you see fit!" Our hero was so struck aback at this unexpected turn that he knew not upon the instant what reply to make. "Friend," said he, at last, "I thank thee extremely for thy offer, and, though I would not be ungracious, it is yet borne in upon me to testify to thee that as to the stone itself and the fortune--of which thou speakest, and of which I very well know the history--I have no inclination to receive either the one or the other, both the fruits of theft, rapine, and murder. The jewel I have myself beheld three times stained, as it were, with the blood of my fellow man, so that it now has so little value in my sight that I would not give a peppercorn to possess it. Indeed, there is no inducement in the world that could persuade me to accept it, or even to take it again into my hand. As to the rest of thy generous offer, I have only to say that I am, four months hence, to be married to a very comely young woman of Kensington, in Pennsylvania, by name Martha Dobbs, and therefore I am not at all at liberty to consider my inclinations in any other direction." Having so delivered himself, Jonathan bowed with such ease as his stiff and awkward joints might command, and thereupon withdrew from the presence of the charmer, who, with cheeks suffused with blushes and with eyes averted, made no endeavor to detain him. So ended the only adventure of moment that ever happened him in all his life. For thereafter he contented himself with such excitement as his mercantile profession and his extremely peaceful existence might afford. _Epilogue_ In conclusion it may be said that when the worthy Jonathan Rugg was married to Martha Dobbs, upon the following June, some mysterious friend presented to the bride a rope of pearls of such considerable value that when they were realized into money our hero was enabled to enter into partnership with his former patron the worthy Jeremiah Doolittle, and that, having made such a beginning, he by and by arose to become, in his day, one of the leading merchants of his native town of Philadelphia. [Illustration] The End * * * * * BOOKS BY HOWARD PYLE HOWARD PYLE'S BOOK OF PIRATES MEN OF IRON A MODERN ALADDIN PEPPER AND SALT THE RUBY OF KISHMOOR STOLEN TREASURE THE WONDER CLOCK HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS ESTABLISHED 1817 * * * * * 
28074	----	* * * * * TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible; please see detailed list of printing issues at the end of the text. * * * * * THE BUCCANEER. COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET: BELL AND BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH; J. CUMMING, DUBLIN. 1840. London: Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE. New-Street-Square. * * * * * STANDARD NOVELS. N^{o} LXXIX. "No kind of literature is so generally attractive as Fiction. Pictures of life and manners, and Stories of adventure, are more eagerly received by the many than graver productions, however important these latter may be. Apuleius is better remembered by his fable of Cupid and Psyche than by his abstruser Platonic writings; and the Decameron of BOCCACCIO has outlived the Latin Treatises, and other learned works of that author." * * * * * [Illustration: THE BUCCANEER. The Protector instantly exclaimed "Guards! what ho! without there!" Five or six rushed into the room and laid hands upon Robin. _J. Cowse, pinxt. W. Greatbatch, sc._ London. Published by Richard Bentley. 1840.] THE BUCCANEER, A Tale BY Mrs S. C. Hall. [Illustration: _Kneeling on a high-backed and curiously carved chair, which he leaned over pulpit-fashion, was seen the lean, lanky figure of Fleetword._] LONDON, _RICHARD BENTLEY,_ _NEW BURLINGTON STREET,_ CUMMING, DUBLIN, BELL & BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH, 1840. THE BUCCANEER. A TALE. BY MRS. S. C. HALL. Stay! methinks I see A person in yond cave. Who should that bee? I know her ensignes now--'tis Chivalrie Possess'd with sleepe, dead as a lethargie; If any charme will wake her, 'tis the name Of our Meliadus! I'll use his Fame. BEN JONSON. REVISED BY THE AUTHOR. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET: BELL AND BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH; J. CUMMING, DUBLIN. 1840. THE BUCCANEER. CHAPTER I. With roomy decks, her guns of mighty strength, Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow laves, Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length, She seems a sea wasp flying on the waves. DRYDEN. It was between the hours of ten and twelve on a fine night of February, in the year sixteen hundred and fifty-six, that three men moored a light skiff in a small bay, overshadowed by the heavy and sombre rocks that distinguish the Isle of Shepey from other parts along the coast of Kent, the white cliffs of which present an aspect at once so cheerful and so peculiar to the shores of Britain. The quiet sea seemed, in the murky light, like a dense and motionless mass, save when the gathering clouds passed from the brow of the waning moon, and permitted its beams to repose in silver lines on its undulating bosom. It was difficult to account for the motive that could have induced any mariner to land upon so unpropitious a spot, hemmed in as it was on every side, and apparently affording no outlet but that by which they had entered--the trackless and illimitable ocean. Without a moment's deliberation, however, the steersman, who had guided his boat into the creek, sprang lightly to the shore: another followed; while the third, folding himself in the capacious cloak his leader had thrown off, resumed his place, as if resolved to take his rest, at least for a time. "Little doubt of our having foul weather, master," observed the younger of the two, in a half querulous, half positive tone, as standing on a huge bank of sea-weed, he regarded first the heavens, and then the earth, with the scrutinising gaze of one accustomed to pry into their mysteries. His companion made no answer, but commenced unrolling a rich silk scarf, that had enveloped his throat, and twisting it into loose folds, passed it several times around his waist--having previously withdrawn from a wide leathern belt that intervened between his jacket and trousers a brace of curiously-fashioned pistols, which he now handed to the young sailor, while he elevated the hilt of his dagger, so that, without removing or disturbing the silken sash, he could use it in an instant. Having fully ascertained this point, by drawing the weapon more than once from its sheath, he again deposited the pistols in his belt, and buttoned his vest nearly to the throat; then drew the ends of his sash still more tightly, and placing a hand on either side, turned towards the cliffs, measuring their altitude with an eye, which, though deficient in dignity, was acute, and peculiarly fierce in expression. The seaman, for such was his calling, was about five feet eight or nine inches in height. His hair, as it appeared from beneath a cap singularly at variance with the fashion of the time, curled darkly round a face, the marked features of which were sufficiently prominent, even in that uncertain light, to denote a person of no ordinary mind or character. His figure was firm and well-proportioned, and, though he might have numbered fifty years, it had lost neither strength nor elasticity. His whole bearing was that of a man whom nothing could have turned from a cherished purpose, were it for good or evil: though his eye was, as we have described it, fierce and acute, it was also restless and impatient as the waves upon which he had toiled from his earliest years. Again he surveyed the cliff, and, stepping close to its base, applied the point of a boat-spear to remove the sea-weed that spring and high tides had heaped against it; he then summoned the youth to his assistance: after a few moments' search, the lad exclaimed,-- "Here it is, master--here is one--here another--but, my eyes! are we to trust our necks to such footing as this? I'd rather mount the top-gallant of the good ship Providence in the fiercest Nor-wester that ever blow'd, than follow such a lubberly tack." "Then go back to the boat, sir," replied the elder, as he began, with cautious yet steady daring, to ascend--a course attended with evident danger, "Go back to the boat, sir--and, here, Jeromio! you have not been taught your duty on board the Providence, and, I presume, have no scruples, like our friend Oba Springall. Jeromio! I say, hither and up with me!" "I am ready, sir," replied the youth, whose momentary dread had been dispelled by this attempt to promote a rival to the post of honour; "I am ready, sir:" muttering, however, soon afterwards to himself, as the difficulties of the way increased, "He thinks no more of his life than if he were a sprat or a spawn." No other word was breathed by either of the adventurers, as they threaded the giddy path, until about midway, when the elder paused and exclaimed, "A-hoy there, boy! there are two steps wanting; you had better indeed go back. To me, the track has been long familiar; not so to you." The youth thought of his master's taunt, and Jeromio, and resolved to take his chance. "Ay, ay, sir, no danger when I follow you." But the peril was, in truth, appalling, though its duration was brief. Below, the sea that was now rapidly covering the small creek, rudely agitated and opposed by a rising breeze, dashed and foamed against the rocks. To fall from such a height was inevitable destruction. There was scarcely sufficient light to mark the inequality of the ascending cliffs; and a spectator, gazing on the scene, must have imagined that those who clung to such a spot were supported by supernatural agency. The Skipper, nothing daunted, struck the spear, that had served as a climbing-stick, firmly into the surface of mingled clay and stone, and then, by a violent effort, flung himself upwards, catching with his left hand at a slight projection that was hardly visible; thus, hanging between earth and heaven, he coolly disengaged the staff, and placed it under the extended arm, so as to form another prop; and feeling, as it were, his way, he burrowed with his foot a resting in the cliff, from which he sprang on a narrow ledge, and was in safety. He then turned to look for his young companion, to whom he extended the boat-spear that had been of such service. Animated by his master's success and example, Springall's self-possession was confirmed; and both soon stood on the brow of the precipice. "Sharp sailing that, boy," observed the elder, as the youth panted at his side. "Ay, ay, sir," replied Springall, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "Take a drop, master," he continued, drawing a tin bottle from his bosom, "'twill warm ye after such a cursed cruise." The Skipper nodded as he accepted the flask, "I hope you are as well armed on all points as on this; but don't take in too great a reef, or it will make you a heavy sailor before your time: drop anchor now, and keep watch here till further orders." "Keep watch here, sir!" said Springall, in a mournful tone. "And did ye bring me ashore, and up that devil's rope-ladder, to leave me to watch here?" The Captain looked upon him angrily for a moment. "I am rightly served for taking man or boy out of the canting hulks that lag on the water. Did ye ever chance to hear such a sound on board the ship Providence as 'Silence, and obey orders?' Let not your walk, youngster, extend beyond that point, from which, at daybreak, you can catch a view of the court tree, where, if ancient habits are not all put off, there will be revelries ere long: the old church at Minster will be also within your sight, while the sea between us and the Essex coast, and for miles along the Northern ocean, can scarcely bear a sail that your young eyes will not distinguish. Watch as if your life--as if a thousand lives hung upon the caution of a moment; and remember, while the blue light revolves, which you now see in the vessel's bow, all things abroad go on well. You also know the pass-word for our friends, and the reception for our enemies. If you should be at all afraid, three loud notes on your whistle will summon Jeromio, and a single flash of your pistol will bring the long-boat off, and into the creek in five minutes. You can then tumble down the devil's rope-ladder, as you call it, and send the less timid Italian to keep watch till my return--you understand me." So saying he strode onwards, leaving the youth, who had not yet passed eighteen summers, to his discontented solitude and ill-temper. "Understand you! I wonder who does, ever did, or ever will; perched up here like a sea-mew, and not having touched land for five weeks! 'Beyond that point!' I'll be even with him, for I wo'n't walk to that point: I'll just stay in the one spot." With this resolution, he flung himself upon a bank of early wild thyme, that filled the air with its refreshing odour. Long after his master was out of sight, he continued pulling up tufts of the perfumed herb, and flinging them over the cliff. "Now, by my faith," he mentally exclaimed, "I have a mind to pelt that Jeromio with some of these clay lumps: he is enjoying a sound nap down there, like an overgrown seal, as he is; and I am everlastingly taunted with Jeromio! Jeromio! Jeromio! at every hand's turn. Here goes, to rouse his slumbers." He drew himself gradually forward, and raised his hand to fling a fragment of stone at his fellow-seaman: the arm was seized in its uplifted position, by a figure enveloped in a dark cloak, that, muffled closely round the face, and surmounted by a slouched hat, worn at the time by both Cavalier and Roundhead, effectually concealed the person from recognition. He held the youth in so iron a grasp, that motion was almost impossible; and while the moon came forth and shone upon them in all her majesty, the two who contended beneath her light might have been aptly compared, in their strength and weakness, to the mighty eagle overcoming the feeble leveret. The stranger was the first to speak, as motioning with his disengaged hand towards the revolving light that hung in the vessel's bow, he inquired,-- "What colours does that ship carry?" "Her master's, I suppose." "And who is her master?" "The man she belongs to." "She's a free-trader then?" "The sea is as free to a free ship, as the land to a free man, I take it." "Reptile! dare you barter words with me?--Your commander's name?" The boy made no answer. "Dost hear me? Your commander's name?" and as the question was repeated, the mailed glove of the interrogator pressed painfully into Springall's flesh, without, however, eliciting a reply. "He has a name, I suppose?" "That you, or any cowardly night-walker, would as soon not hear; for it is the name of a brave man," replied the youth at last, struggling violently, but ineffectually, to reach the whistle that was suspended round his neck. "Fool!" exclaimed the stranger, "dost bandy strength as well as words? Learn that in an instant I could drop thee into the rolling ocean, like the egg of the unwise bird." He raised the youth from the earth, and held him over the precipice, whose base was now buried in the wild waste of waters, that foamed and howled, as if demanding from the unyielding rock a tribute or a sacrifice. "Tell me thy master's name." The heroic boy, though with certain death before him, made no reply. The man held him for about the space of a minute and a half in the same position: at first he struggled fiercely and silently, as a young wolf caught in the hunter's toils; yet fear gradually palsied the body of the unconquered mind, and his efforts became so feeble, that the stranger placed him on his feet, saying,-- "I wish not to hurt thee, child!" adding, in a low and broken voice, "Would that the Lord had given unto me sons endowed with the same spirit! Wilt tell me thy own name?" "No! If you are a friend, you know our pass-word; if a foe, you shall not know it from me. You can go down the cliff, and ask our commander's name from yon sleepy Orson; his tongue goes fast enough at all seasons." The stranger entirely withdrew his hold from Springall, while he moved towards the summit of the rock. Quick as lightning, the whistle was applied to the youth's mouth, and three rapid, distinct notes cut through the night air, and were echoed by the surrounding caverns. "I thank thee, boy," said the mysterious being, calmly; "that tells of Hugh Dalton and the Fire-fly." And he disappeared so instantaneously from the spot, that Springall rubbed first his eyes, and then his arm, to be assured whether the events of the last few minutes were not the effects of a distempered imagination. He had, however, more certain proof of its reality: for, upon peering closely through the darkness into the thick wood that skirted the east, he distinctly noted the glitter of steel in two or three points at the same moment; and apprehensive that their landing must have been witnessed by more than one person--the hostile intentions of whom he could scarcely doubt--he examined the priming of his pistols, called to Jeromio to look out, for that danger was at hand, and resumed his watch, fearful, not for his own safety, but for that of his absent commander. In the mean time, the Skipper, who was known in the Isle of Shepey, and upon other parts of the coast, by the name of Hugh Dalton, proceeded uninterruptedly on his way, up and down the small luxuriant hills, and along the fair valleys of as fertile and beautiful a district as any of which our England can boast, until a sudden turn brought him close upon a dwelling of large proportions and disjointed architecture, that evidently belonged to two distinct eras. The portion of the house fronting the place on which he stood was built of red brick, and regularly elevated to three stories in height; the windows were long and narrow; and the entire of that division was in strict accordance with the taste of the times, as patronised and adopted by the rulers of the Commonwealth. Behind, rose several square turrets, and straggling buildings, the carved and many-paned windows of which were of very remote date, and evidently formed from the relics of some monastery or religious house. Here and there, the fancy or interest of the owner had induced him to remodel the structure; and an ill-designed and ungraceful mixture of the modern with the ancient gave to the whole somewhat of a grotesque appearance, that was heightened by the noble trees, which had once towered in majesty and beauty, being in many places lopped and docked, as if even the exuberance of nature was a crime in the eyes of the present lord of the mansion. "Sir Robert," muttered Dalton, "may well change the name of his dwelling from Cecil Abbey to Cecil Place. Why, the very trees are manufactured into Roundheads. But there is something more than ordinary a-foot, for the lights are floating through the house as if it were haunted. The sooner I make harbour, the better." He paced rapidly forward, and stood before a small building that was then called a porter's lodge, but which had formerly been designated the Abbey Gate, and which, perhaps in consideration of its simple, but singular, beauty, had been spared all modern alteration. The ivy that clustered and climbed to its loftiest pinnacles added a wild and peculiar interest to this remnant of ancient architecture. It contained a high carriage archway, and a lateral passage beneath it, both decorated with numerous ornamental mouldings and columns, flanked at the angles by octagonal turrets of surpassing elegance. An apartment over the arch, which, during the reign of monastic power, had been used as a small oratory, for the celebration of early mass to the servants and labourers of the convent, was now appropriated to the accommodation of the porter and his family. The Skipper applied his hand to the bell, and rang long and loudly. For some time no answer was returned. Again he rang, and after much delay, an old man was seen approaching from the house, bearing a torch, which he carefully shaded from the night wind. "My good friend," inquired the sailor in no gentle tone, "is it Sir Robert's wish that those who come on business should be thus kept waiting?" "You know little of the affliction with which it has pleased the Lord to visit Sir Robert, or you would not have rung so loudly: our good lady is dying!" and the old man's voice faltered as he spoke the tidings. "Indeed!" was the only reply of Dalton, as he passed under the archway; but the word was spoken in a tone that evinced strong feeling. The porter requested him to walk into the lodge. "The place is in confusion; and as to seeing my master, it is a clear impossibility; he has not left our lady's bedside these three days, and the doctor says she will be gathered to her kindred before morning." "He will leave even her to attend to me; and therefore, my friend, on your own head be the responsibility if you fail to deliver to him this token. I tell you," added Dalton, "death could hardly keep him from me!" The porter took the offered signet in silence, and only shook his head in reply, as they passed together towards the house. "You can tell me, I suppose, if Master Roland is still with his Highness's army?" "Alack and well-a-day! God is just and merciful; but, I take it, the death of that noble boy has gone nigher to break my lady's heart than any other sorrow: the flesh will war against the spirit. Had he died in honourable combat at Marston or at Naseby, when first it was given him to raise his arm in the Lord's cause!--but to fall in a drunken frolic, not befitting a holy Christian to engage in--it was far more than my poor lady could bear." "Oliver promised to be a fine fellow." "Do not talk of him, do not talk of him, I entreat you," replied the domestic, placing his hand on his face to conceal his emotion; "he was, indeed, my heart's darling. Long before Sir Robert succeeded to his brother's property, and when we lived with my lady's father, I was the old gentleman's huntsman, and that dear child was ever at my heels. The Lord be praised! the Lord be praised! but I little thought the blue waves would be his bier before he had seen his twentieth year. They are all gone, sir: five such boys!--the girl, the lamb of the flock, only left. You do not know her, do ye?" inquired the old man, peering with much curiosity into the Skipper's face, as if recognising it as one he had seen in former days. The sailor made no answer. They had now entered a small postern-door, which led to the hall by a narrow passage; and the porter proceeded until they stood in one of those vaulted entrances that usually convey an idea of the wealth and power of the possessor. "You can sit here till I return," observed the guide, again casting an inquiring look upon the form and features of the guest. "I sit in no man's hall," was the stern reply. The porter withdrew, and the seaman, folding his arms, paced up and down the paved vestibule, which showed evident tokens of the confusion that sickness and death never fail to create. He paused occasionally before the huge and gaping chimney, and extended his sinewy hands over the flickering embers of the expiring fire: the lurid glare of the departing flames only rendered the darkness of the farthermost portion of the hail more deep and fearful. The clock chimed eleven: it was, as ever, the voice of Time giving warning of eternity! A light gleamed at the most distant end of the apartment, and a slight but graceful girl approached the stranger. She was habited in a close vest of grey cloth: her head covered with a linen cap, devoid of any ornament; from under the plain border of which, a stream of hair appeared, tightly drawn across a forehead of beautiful colour and proportions. "Will you please to follow, sir, to my master's study?" Dalton turned suddenly round; the entire expression of his countenance softened, and his firm-set lips opened, as if a word laboured to come forth, and was retained only by an effort. "Will you not follow, good sir?" repeated the girl, anxiously but mildly. "My master is ill at ease, and wishes to return to my lady's room: it may be----" The sentence remained unfinished, and tears streamed afresh down cheeks already swollen with weeping. "Your name, girl?" inquired the stranger, eagerly. "Barbara Iverk," she replied, evidently astonished at the question. He seized her arm, and, while gazing earnestly in her face, murmured in a tone of positive tenderness,-- "Are you happy?" "I praise the Lord for his goodness! ever since I have been here, I have been most happy; but my dear lady, who was so kind to me----" Again her tears returned. "You do not know me?--But you could not." Hugh Dalton gradually relaxed his hold, and pulled from his bosom a purse heavy with Spanish pieces--he presented it to the girl, but she drew back her hand and shook her head. "Take it, child, and buy thee a riding-hood, or a farthingale, or some such trumpery, which thy vain sex delight in." "I lack nothing, good sir, I thank ye; and, as to the coined silver, it is only a tempter to the destruction of body and soul." "As it may be used--as it may be used," repeated the sailor quickly; "one so young would not abuse it." "Wisdom might be needed in the expenditure; and I have heard that want of knowledge is the forerunner of sin. Besides, I ask your pardon, good sir, but strangers do not give to strangers, unless for charity; and I lack nothing." She dropped so modest a courtesy, and looked so perfectly and purely innocent, that moisture, as unusual as it might be unwelcome, dimmed the eyes of the stern man of ocean; and as he replaced the dollars, he muttered something that sounded like, "I thank God she is uncontaminated!" He then followed the gentle girl through many passages, and up and down more than one flight of stairs: they both at length stopped before a door that was thickly plated with iron. "You need not wait," said Dalton, laying his hand on the latch. Barbara paused a moment, to look on the wild being, so different from the staid persons she was in the daily habit of seeing at the hall; and then her light, even step, faded on the sailor's ear. Sir Robert Cecil was standing, or rather leaning, with folded arms, against a column of the dark marble chimney-piece, which, enriched by various carvings and mouldings, rose nearly to the ceiling. The Baronet's hair, of mingled grey and black, had been cropped according to the approved fashion of the time; so that his features had not the advantage of either shadow or relief from the most beautiful of nature's ornaments. He might have been a few years older or younger than the sailor who had just entered; but his figure seemed weak and bending as a willow-wand, as he moved slowly round to receive his visiter. The usually polite expression of his countenance deepened into the insidious, and a faint smile rested for a moment on his lip. This outward show of welcome contrasted strangely with the visible tremor that agitated his frame: he did not speak; either from inability to coin an appropriate sentence, or the more subtle motive of waiting until the communication of the stranger was first made. After a lengthened pause, during which Dalton slowly advanced, so as to stand opposite Sir Robert Cecil, he commenced the conversation, without any of that show of courtesy, which the consciousness of their relative situations might have called for: even his cap was unremoved. "I am sorry, Sir Robert, to have come at such a time; nor would I now remain, were it not that my business----" "I am not aware," interrupted the Baronet, "of any matters of '_business_' pending between us. I imagine, on reflection, you will find that all such have been long since concluded. If there is any way, indeed, in which I can oblige you, for the sake of an old servant----" "_Servant!_" in his turn interrupted Dalton, with emphasis, "we have been companions, Sir Robert--_companions_ in more than one act; and, by the dark heavens above us, will be so in another--if necessary." The haughty Baronet writhed under this familiarity; yet was there an expression of triumphant quietude in his eye, as if he despised the insinuation of the seaman. "I think, considering all things, you have been pretty well paid for such acts, Master Dalton; I have never taken any man's labour for nothing." "Labour!" again echoed the sailor, "labour may be paid for; but what can stand in lieu of innocence, purity of heart, and rectitude of conduct?" "Gold--which you have had, in all its gorgeous and glowing abundance." "'Two'n't do," retorted the other, in a painfully subdued tone; "there is much it cannot purchase. Am I not at this moment a banned and a blighted man--scouted alike from the board of the profligate Cavalier, and the psalm-singing Puritan of this most change-loving country? And one day or another I may be hung up at the yard-arm of a Commonwealth--Heaven bless the mark!--a Commonwealth cruiser!--or scare crows from a gibbet off Sheerness or Queenborough, or be made an example of for some act of piracy committed on the high seas!" "But why commit such acts? You have wherewithal to live respectably--quietly." "Quietly!" repeated the Skipper; "look ye, Master--I crave your pardon--_Sir_ Robert Cecil; as soon could one of Mother Carey's chickens mount a hen-roost, or bring up a brood of lubberly turkies, as I, Hugh Dalton, master and owner of the good brigantine, that sits the waters like a swan, and cuts them like an arrow--live quietly, quietly, on shore! Santa Maria! have I not panted under the hot sun off the Caribbees? Have I not closed my ears to the cry of mercy? Have I not sacked, and sunk, and burnt without acknowledging claim or country? Has not the mother clasped her child more closely to her bosom at the mention of my name? In one word, for years have I not been a BUCCANEER? And yet you talk to me of quietness!--Sir, sir, the soul so steeped in sin has but two resources--madness, or the grave; the last even I shrink from; so give me war, war, and its insanity." "Cannot you learn to fear the Lord, and trade as an honest man?" Dalton cast a look of such mingled scorn and contempt on his companion, that a deep red colour mounted to his cheek as he repeated, "Yes! I ask, cannot you trade as an honest man?" "No! a curse on trade: and I'm _not_ honest," he replied fiercely. "May I beg you briefly to explain the object of your visit?" said the Baronet at last, after a perplexing pause, during which the arms of the Buccaneer were folded on his breast, and his restless and vigilant eyes wandered round the apartment, flashing with an indefinable expression, when they encountered the blue retreating orbs of Sir Robert. "This, then: I require a free pardon from Old Noll, not not only for myself, but for my crew. The brave men, who would have died, shall live, with me. As a return for his Highness's civility, I will give up all free trade, and take the command of a frigate, if it so please him." "Or a revenue cutter, I presume," observed the Baronet, sarcastically. "Curse me if I do!" replied Dalton, contemptuously--"the sharks! No, no, I'm not come to that yet; nor would I ever think of hoisting any flag but mine own, were it not for the sake of a small craft, as belonging to--no matter what." "You have seen but little of the girl." "Too little: and why? Because I was _ashamed_ to see her--but now--not ten minutes ago--I was glad she did not know me. Sir Robert, when your own daughter hangs upon your arm, or looks with her innocent eyes into your face, how do you feel?" Sir Robert Cecil had been too well schooled in Puritanism to suffer the emotions of his mind to affect his features. He did not reply to the question, but skilfully turning the conversation, brought the intruder back to his old subject. "How do you purpose procuring this free pardon?" "I! I know not how to procure it; I only wish it procured: the means are in your power, not mine." "In mine!" ejaculated the Baronet with well-feigned astonishment; "you mistake, good Dalton, I have no interest at Whitehall; I would not ask a favour for myself." "That is likely; but you must ask one for me." "_Must!_" repeated Sir Robert, "is a strange word to use to me, Dalton." "I'm not scholar enough to find a better," replied the other insolently. "I cannot if I would," persisted the Baronet. "One word more, then. The Protector's plans render it impracticable for me to continue, as I have done, on the seas: I know that I am a marked man, and unless something be determined on, and speedily, I shall be exposed to that ignominy which, for my child's sake, I would avoid. Don't talk to me of impossibilities; you _can_ obtain the pardon I desire, and, in one word, Sir Robert Cecil, you _must_!" Sir Robert shook his head. "At your pleasure, then, at your pleasure; but at your peril also. Mark me! I am not one to be thrown overboard, and make no struggle--I am not a baby to be strangled without crying! If I perish, facts shall arise from my grave--ay, if I were sunk a thousand fathoms in my own blue sea--facts that would---- You may well tremble and turn pale! The secret is still in our keeping; only remember, I fall not singly!" "Insulting villain!" said Sir Robert, regaining his self-command; "you have now no facts, no proofs; the evidence is destroyed." "It is _not_ destroyed, Robert Cecil," observed Dalton, calmly pulling a bundle of papers from his vest: "look here--and here--and here--do you not know your own hand-writing? you practised me first in deception: I had not forgotten your kind lessons, when in your presence I committed forged letters to the flames!" The man laughed the laugh of contempt and bitter scorn as he held forward the documents. For a few moments Sir Robert seemed petrified; his eyes glared on the papers, as if their frozen lids had not the power of shutting out the horrid proofs of his iniquity. Suddenly he made a desperate effort to secure them; but the steady eye and muscular arm of the smuggler prevented it. "Hands off!" he exclaimed, whirling the Baronet from him, as if he had been a thing of straw; "you know my power, and you know my terms: there needs no more palaver about it." "Will not gold serve your purpose?" "No, I have enough of that: I want distinction and fame, a free pardon, and the command of one of your registered and acknowledged plunderers; or, mayhap, baptism for my own bright little Fire-fly, as the 'Babe of Grace;' or--But, hang it, no--I'd sink the vessel first, and let her die, as she has lived, free, free, free! _I_ belong to a civilised set of beings, and must therefore be a slave, a slave to something or some one. Noll knows my talents well, knows that I am as good a commander, ay, and for the matter of that, would be as honest a one as the best." He paused: the Baronet groaned audibly. "We have one or two little jobs upon the coasts here of Kent and Essex, trifles that must, nevertheless, be attended to; but this day month, Sir Robert Cecil, we meet again. I will not longer keep you from your wife. Gracious Heaven! where was I when mine expired! But farewell! I would not detain you for her sweet and gentle sake: she will be rewarded for her goodness to my child! Remember," he added, closing the door, "remember--one month, and Hugh Dalton!" CHAPTER II. Death! be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death---- * * * * * ----Why swell'st thou, then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally'; And Death shall be no more:--Death! thou shalt die. DR. DONNE. When Sir Robert Cecil returned to his wife's chamber, all within was silent as the grave. He approached the bed; his daughter rose from the seat she had occupied by its side, and motioned him to be still, pointing at the same time to her mother, and intimating that she slept. "Thank God for that!" he murmured, and drew his hand across his brow, while his chest heaved as if a heavy weight had been removed from it. The attendants had left the room to obtain some necessary refreshment and repose, and father and daughter were alone with the sleeper in the chamber of death. The brow of Lady Cecil was calm, smooth, and unclouded, white as alabaster, and rendered still more beautiful by the few tresses of pale auburn hair that escaped from under the head-tire. The features were of a noble yet softened character, although painfully emaciated; and not a shadow of colour tinged her upturned lip. Her sleep, though occasionally sound, was restless, and the long shadowy fingers, that lay on the embroidered coverlet, were now and then stirred, as if by bodily or mental suffering. There was an atmosphere of silence, not of repose, within the apartment, at once awful and oppressive; and Sir Robert breathed as if his breathings were but a continuation of suppressed sobs. Constance Cecil, never in earlier life, never in after years, gracious and beautiful as she ever was, appeared half so interesting to her unhappy father as at that moment. There was at all times about her a majesty of mind and feeling that lent to her simplest word and action a dignity and power, which, though universally felt, it would have been impossible to define. If one could have procured for her a kingdom to reign over, or have chosen from the galaxy of heaven a region worthy her command, it must have been that pale and holy star, which, splendid and alone in the firmament, heralds the approach of day; so unfitted might she have been deemed to mingle with a world less pure, so completely placed by nature above all the littleness of ordinary life. Her noble and majestic form was the casket of a rich and holy treasure, and her father's conscience had often quailed, when contemplating the severity of her youthful virtue. Dearly as he loved his wife, he respected his daughter more, and the bare idea that certain occurrences of former years might be known to her was as a poisoned dagger in his heart. He had been a daring, and was still an ambitious man--successful in all that men aim to succeed in; wealthy, honoured, and powerful, and--what is frequently more ardently sought for than all--feared; yet would he rather have sacrificed every advantage he had gained--every desire for which he had unhesitatingly bartered his own self-esteem--every distinction he had considered cheaply purchased at the price of conscience, than have lost the good opinion, the confiding love of his only child. Even now he looked upon her with mingled feelings of dread and affection, though her bearing was subdued and her lofty spirit bowed by sorrow, as she stood before him, the thick folds of her dressing-gown falling with classic elegance to her feet, her fine hair pushed back from her forehead and carelessly twisted round her head, and her countenance deepened into an expression of the most intense anxiety: while, assured that the invalid slept on, she whispered into his ear words of consolation, if not of hope. Lady Cecil had existed for some days in a state of frightful delirium, and, during that time, her ravings had been so loud and continued, that her present repose was elysium to those who loved her. Constance bent her knees, and prayed in silence, long and fervently, for support. Sir Robert, leaning back in the richly-cushioned chair, covered his face with his hands, withdrawing them only when the sleeper groaned or breathed more heavily. At length both felt as if death had indeed entered the chamber, so motionless lay the object of their love: they continued gazing from each other to the couch, until the misty light of morning streamed coldly through the open shutters. Another hour of sad watching passed, and, with a long and deeply drawn sigh, the sufferer opened her eyes: they were no longer wild and wandering, but rested with calm intelligence on her husband and her child. "It is long since I have seen you, except in strange dreams," she said, or rather murmured; "and now I shall be with you but for a very little time!" Constance put to her lips a silver cup containing some refreshment, while Sir Robert supported her head on his arm. "Call no one in. Constance--Cecil--my moments now are numbered:--draw back the curtains, that I may once more look upon the light of morning!" Constance obeyed; and the full beams of day entered the room. "How beautiful! how glorious!" repeated the dying woman, as her sight drank in the reviving light; "it heralds me to immortality--where there is no darkness--no disappointment--no evil! How pale are the rays of that lamp, Cecil! How feeble man's inventions, contrasted with the works of the Almighty!" Constance rose to extinguish it. "Let it be," she continued, feebly; "let it be, dearest; it has illumined my last night, and we will expire together." The affectionate daughter turned away to hide her tears; but when did the emotion of a beloved child escape a mother's notice?--"Alas! my noble Constance weeping! I thought she, at all events, could have spared me this trial:--leave us for a few moments; let me not see you weep, Constance--let me not see it--tears enough have fallen in these halls;--do not mourn, my child, that your mother will find rest at last." How often did Constantia remember these words! How often, when the heart that dictated such gentle chiding, had ceased to beat, did Constantia Cecil, gazing into the depths of the blue and mysterious sky, think upon her mother in heaven! Lady Cecil had much to say to her husband during the remaining moments of her existence; but her breathing became so feeble, that he was obliged to lean over the couch to catch her words. "We part, my own, and only beloved husband, for ever in this world;--fain would I linger yet a little, to recount how much I have loved you--in our more humble state--in this--oh! how falsely termed our prosperity. My heart has shared your feelings. In our late bitter trials, more than half my grief was, that you should suffer. Oh, Robert! Robert! now, when I am about to leave you and all, for ever--how my heart clings--I fear, sinfully clings--to the remembrance of our earlier and purer happiness! My father's house! The noble oak, where the ring-doves built, and under whose shadow we first met! The stream--where you and Herbert--wild, but affectionate brother!--Oh! Robert, do not blame me, nor start so at his name;--his only fault was his devotion to a most kind master!--but who, that lived under the gentle influence of Charles Stuart's virtues, could have been aught but devoted?--And yet what deadly feuds came forth from this affection! Alas! his rich heritage has brought no blessing with it. I never could look upon these broad lands as ours--Would that his child had lived--and then--But they are all gone now--all gone!--Alas! what had we to do with courts, or courts with us?--Our domestic comforts have been blighted--our hearth left desolate--the children for whom you toiled, and hoped, and planned, have been removed from us--nipped in the bud, or the first blossoming!--And oh, Cecil! take the words of a dying woman to heart, when she tells you, that you will go down childless to your grave, if you do not absolve our beloved Constance from her promise to him whom she can neither respect nor love. She will complete the contract, though it should be her death-warrant, rather than let it be said a daughter of the house of Cecil acted dishonourably--she will complete it, Robert--she will complete it--and then die!" Lady Cecil, overcome by emotion and exertion, fell back fainting and exhausted on her pillow. Recovering herself, however, after a brief pause she added, in a broken whispering voice, "Forgive me, my dear, dear husband;--my mind is wandering--my thoughts are unconnected--but my affection for you--for Constance--is strong in death. I mean not to pain you, but to warn--for the sake of our only child--of the only thing that remains to tell you of your wife. My breath trembles on my lips--there is a mist before mine eyes--call her in, that my spirit may depart--may ascend heavenward on the wings of prayer!--" Sir Robert was moving towards the door, when her hand motioned him back. "Promise--promise that you will never force her to wed that man!--more--that you yourself will break the contract!" "Truly, and solemnly do I swear, that I will never force her to fulfil--nay, that I will never even urge her to its fulfilment." The dying lady looked unsatisfied, and some unpronounced words agitated her lips, as Constance entered unbidden, but most welcome. She knelt by her mother's side, and took the hand so feebly but affectionately extended towards her. The fearful change that had occurred during her short absence was but too visible. The breath that touched her cheek was cold as the morning mist. The sufferer would have folded her hands in prayer, but the strength had departed before the spirit was gone. Constance, seeing that the fine expression of life with which her upturned eyes had glittered was gradually passing away, clasped her mother's hands within her own: suddenly they struggled for freedom, and as her eye followed the pointing of her parent's finger, she saw the lamp's last beam flicker for a moment, and then expire!--Her mother, too, was dead! * * * * * It is ill to break upon the solitude of the dying, though it is good to enter into the solemn temple of death; it is a sad but a useful lesson to lift the pall; to raise the coffin-lid; to gaze upon all we loved, upon all that was bright, and pure, and beautiful, changing with a slow but certain change to decay and corruption. The most careless cannot move along the chamber of death without being affected by the awful presence of the King of Terrors. The holy quiet that ought to characterise a funeral procession is too frequently destroyed by the empty pomp and heartlessness which attend it; but in the death-chamber there is nothing of this; the very atmosphere seems impregnated with the stillness of the time when there was no life in the broad earth, and when only "God moved on the face of the waters." Our breath comes slowly and heavily to our lips, and we murmur forth our words as if the spirit watched to record them in the unchanging book of immortality. In due time, the funeral train of Lady Cecil prepared to escort the corpse to its final home. Sir Robert was too ill, and too deeply afflicted to be present at the ceremony; and as he had no near relative, Sir Willmott Burrell of Burrell, the knight to whom his daughter's hand was plighted, was expected to take his station as chief mourner. The people waited for some hours with untiring patience; the old steward paced backwards and forwards from the great gate, and at last took his stand there, looking out from between its bars, hoping that, wild and reckless as Burrell really was, he would not put so great an affront upon the Cecil family, as to suffer its late mistress to go thus unhonoured to the grave. The day advanced, and as neither the gentleman, nor any one to show cause for his absence, appeared, strange whisperings and surmises arose amongst the crowd, which had assembled from all the villages on the island, as to the probable motive of this most ill-advised delay. More than one messenger was despatched to the top of Minster Church to look out and see if any person like Sir Willmott was crossing the King's Ferry, the only outlet in general use from the island to the main land: but though the passage-boat, conducted (as it was termed) by Jabez Tippet, was evidently employed as much as usual, there was no token to justify farther waiting. The Rev. Jonas Fleetword, one of the soundest of Puritan divines, stood like a statue of cast iron in the doorway, his arms folded on his breast, and his brow contracting into a narrow and fretted arch, as the minute-hand moved round and round the dial of the old clock. At length assuming to himself the command, which in those times was as willingly ceded to the Reformed minister as it had formerly been to the not more arbitrary Catholic priest, he ordered the procession "to tarry no longer the coming of him whose feet were shod with heaviness, but to depart forthwith in the name of the Lord." The place of interment was at East Church, a distance of about four miles from Cecil Place; and as they paced it but slowly, the increasing chill of the gathering clouds gave intimation that the prime of day was sinking into the eventide before the spire was in sight. As they at length ascended the hill, upon the summit of which was the vault of the Cecils, a young gentleman, mounted on a grey and noble charger, met the funeral train so suddenly, that those who preceded halted, and for a moment it was rumoured, that Sir Willmott Burrell, though late and last, had taken the lower road from King's Ferry, and so arrived in time to behold the remains of her who was to have been his mother, deposited in the tomb. When the people observed, however, that the salutation of respect made by the youth to the Rev. Jonas Fleetword was followed by no sign of recognition, they moved silently onward, marvelling amongst themselves at the young gentleman's keeping a little in advance of the clergyman, so as to take the exact station which belonged to the chief mourner. He was habited in a suit of the deepest black; and though the cloak which fell in ample folds from his throat concealed his figure, yet his movements indicated that it was slight and graceful. His broad hat completely shaded his face, but the luxuriant curls of light air, which, moistened by the misty atmosphere, fell negligently beneath its brim, intimated that he was more akin to the Cavalier than the Roundhead. By the time the ceremony was concluded, and the divine had finished one of those energetic and powerful appeals to the feelings which so effectually roused or subdued, as it pleased him to desire, darkness had nearly shrouded the surrounding landscape; and the multitude, whom respect or curiosity had assembled, retired from the churchyard, and wended to their homes. The year was in its third month, and the weather, which, when Hugh Dalton landed, had been clear and fine, was now foggy and cold:-- "The dewy night had with her frosty shade Immantled all the world, and the stiff ground Sparkled in ice----" Yet the steed of the youth, who had so unceremoniously joined Lady Cecil's funeral, was cropping the withered grass from the churchyard graves, while his master, apparently unconscious of the deepening night, leaned against one of the richly ornamented stone slabs that marked the entrance to the vault. Suddenly the clatter of horses' hoofs sounded on the crisp road, the cavalier involuntarily placed his hand on his sword, and his horse lifted his head from the earth, bent back his ears, and whinnied in the low and peculiar tone that serves to intimate the approach of strangers. The travellers (for there were two) halted at the churchyard gate. "What ho there!" exclaimed the foremost--"you, sir, who are pondering in graveyards at this hour, canst tell me if Lady Cecil's funeral took place this morning?" "Her ladyship was buried this evening," replied the other, at the same time fairly drawing his sword out of its scabbard, though the movement was concealed by his cloak. "They waited then?" "They did, for one whose presence was not needed." "And pray, how know you that? or knowing, think you it wisdom, Sir Dolorous, to give forth such knowledge, when it might be him they tarried for who questioneth?" "It is because I know you, Sir Willmott Burrell, that I am so free of speech," replied the youth, vaulting into his saddle; "and I repeat it, your presence was not needed. The lady, as you truly know, loved you not while living; it was well, therefore, that you profaned not her burial by a show of false grief." "Here's a ruffler!" exclaimed the other, turning to his follower. "And pray who are you?" "You shall know that, good sir, when you least desire it," answered he of the black cloak, reining up his horse, that pawed and pranced impatiently: he then loosened the bridle, and would have crossed Burrell to pass into the highway; but the other shouted to his associate, "Hold, stop him, Robin! stop him in the name of the Lord! 'tis doubtless one of the fellows who have assailed his Highness's life--a leveller--a leveller! a friend of Miles Syndercomb, or some such ruffian, who is tarrying in this remote part of the island for some opportunity of escape. If you are an innocent man, you will remain; if guilty, this shall be my warrant." He attempted to pull forth a pistol from his belt, but, before his purpose could be accomplished, the point of his adversary's rapier rested on his throat, which, at the same instant, was grasped with more strength than so slight a person could be supposed to possess. Burrell cried to his comrade for help, but he was already out of hearing, having set spurs to his horse the moment he had seen the assault; he then entreated for quarter in an altered and humbled tone. "I am neither a robber nor a murderer," replied the youth; "but, not having pistols, I hold my own safety of too much value to relax my grasp, till you pledge your honour not to attack me but with the same weapon I can use in my defence." Burrell pledged his word "as a Christian and a soldier:" the stranger withdrew his sword. "And now," said he, fixing himself firmly in his seat, and rolling his cloak around his left arm, "if you wish for honourable combat, I am at your service; if not, sir, I take my way, and you can proceed on yours." He drew up to his full height, and awaited Burrell's answer, who sat as if undetermined what course to pursue. He did not long hesitate; the villain's ready friend--treachery--was at his elbow; in an instant the pistol was presented to the head of his confiding antagonist, who, though unprepared for such an act, bent forward previous to the effort of raising himself in the saddle to give more strength to his good steel. At the very instant that he bowed himself the ruffian fired! The ball passed over him--he swayed in his saddle; the next moment, reining up his horse, he prepared to punish such dastardly conduct as it deserved; but, as worthless purposes are sometimes accomplished by worthy instruments, the fleet steed that Burrell rode was far on its way towards Minster, its track marked by fire-sparks, which glittered in the thickening darkness. The youth remained on the same spot until the sound of the horse's hoofs were lost in the distance, and then, setting spurs to his own gallant grey, proceeded on his course. CHAPTER III. "Now is the time when rakes their revels keep; Kindlers of riot, enemies of sleep." GAY. "A brewer may be like a fox or a cub, And teach a lecture out of a tub, And give the wicked world a rub, Which nobody can deny. A brewer may be as bold as Hector, When he had drunk his cup of nectar; And a brewer may be a Lord Protector, Which nobody can deny. But here remains the strangest thing, How this brewer about his liquor did bring To be an Emperor or King, Which nobody can deny. Then push the brewer's liquor about, And loudly let each true man shout-- Shout--" "Shout not, I pray you, but rather keep silence," exclaimed an old woman, cautiously opening the door of a room in which the revellers were assembled, and thus interrupting their rude, but animated harmony; "shout not: you may hear a horse's tramp without; and Crisp grumbles so hard, that sure I am 'tis no friend's footstep." "Why, mother," cried one of the company, winking on the rest, "you say it was a horse you heard?" "Well! and I say so still, good Master Roupall." "Sure you do not make friends of horses?" "Better make them of horses than of asses," replied the crone, bitterly; and the laugh was raised against Roupall, who, as with all jesters, could ill brook the jest that was at his own expense. "I hear no tramp, and see no reason why you should interrupt us thus with your hooting, you ill-favoured owl," he exclaimed fiercely. "Hush!" she replied, placing her finger on her lip, while the little terrier that stood at her feet, as if comprehending the signal, crept stealthily to the door, and laying his nose on the floor, drew in his breath; and then erecting his ears, and stiffening his short tail, uttered a low determined growl. "There are strangers, and near us too," observed an older man, who had hitherto remained silent; "there is little doubt of their being unfriendly: we had therefore better, seeing it would be imprudent to fight, retreat." "Retreat! and why, I wonder?" inquired Roupall, the most reckless and daring of the set; and whose efforts were invariably directed towards meriting the soubriquet of "Jack the Rover," by which he was usually designated among his associates; "what care we, whether they be friends or foes! let them enter. Old Noll has too much to do abroad, to heed a few noisy troopers in an obscure hostelry in the Isle of Shepey." "You are always heedless," observed the other; "and would sell your soul for an hour's mirth." "My soul thanks you for the compliment, truly, Master Grimstone, and my body would repay you for it, if there was time, which, I take it, there lacks just now, for it is past eleven. Observe, gentlemen, Jack Roupall retreats not--he only retires." As he spoke, he pushed from a corner of the apartment, a huge settle of black oak, that apparently required the strength of six men to displace, but which the trooper handled as easily as if it had been a child's cradle. He then slid aside a panel, that fitted most accurately into the wall, of which it appeared a part; and in a few moments the party, consisting of some five or six, had entered the aperture, carrying with them the remnants of their feast, at the particular request of the old woman, who exhibited great alarm lest any symptom of revelling should remain. The last had hardly made good his retreat, when a loud knock at the door confirmed the dame in her apprehensions. "In the devil's name!" she growled, "how am I to shove this mountain into its place? One of you must remain here; I might as well attempt to throw Blackburn cliff into the sea." "I'll stay then, if you'll wait a minute," replied Roupall; "I defy the devil and all his works; and old Noll himself, the worst of them:--so here goes." Another and a louder noise testified the traveller's impatience; but the summons was repeated a third time before the settle was replaced, and the room restored to its usually desolate and inhospitable appearance. Roupall ascended a narrow ladder, that led to the loft of the cottage-like dwelling, carrying with him a pack resembling those used by itinerant venders of goods; and Mother Hays (for such was her cognomen) holding the flickering candle in one hand, unfastened the door with the other, while Crisp crouched and snarled at her feet. "You could not have been all asleep, dame," said the stranger, as he threw off his horseman's cloak, and hung his rapier on the back of the nearest seat, "for I distinctly saw lights. Is your son within?" "No, marry, good sir; he is far away, in London, with his master, Sir Willmott Burrell, who was looked for home to-day, but came not, as I hear from some neighbours, belonging to East Church and Warden, who were at Lady Cecil's funeral." "Do you expect me to believe there is no one in the house but yourself?" "One other kind gentleman, a pedlar-man, a simple body, who lies above; he's weary travelling, and sleeps soundly." The stranger took off his hat; and as he shook his head, throwing completely back the hair that had in some degree overshadowed his face, the old woman started, and an undefined expression of astonishment and doubt burst from her lips. The gentleman either did not, or appeared not to notice the effect he produced; but carefully drew from his bosom a small book or tablet, and read in it for some minutes with much attention, turning over and over the one or two leaves upon which his eyes were fixed. "And are you sure, good woman, that no other persons are in your house save this same pedlar?" he inquired, now fixing his gaze steadily on the withered countenance of Mother Hays. "Alack! yes, sir, few travellers come to the lone widow's door, and it's an out o' the way place: wouldn't your honour like some supper, or a stoop of wine, or, mayhap, a glass of brandy?--it is useful these raw nights; or a rasher and eggs?" "Are you quite certain there is no other in the house, and that your son is really not returned?" he again inquired, heedless of her invitation. "Why should I deceive your honour?--am I not old, and would you that I should so sin against the Lord?" "You were not always thus piously given," replied the youth, smiling. "Know you aught of this token?" and he united his hands after a particular fashion: "heard you never the words----" and he whispered a short sentence into her ear: upon which she dropped a reverential courtesy, and, without reply, ascended, as quickly as her age and infirmities permitted, the ladder that led to Roupall's place of retreat. Ere she returned, however, accompanied by the trooper, another person had entered the dwelling. It was no other than her son Robin, for whom the gentleman had first inquired, and they were both engaged in such deep and earnest conversation, that neither noticed the addition to the party, until the old woman had thrown her arms around her son's neck, so as almost to stifle him with her caresses, seeming to lose all sense of the stranger's presence in the fulness of joy at the youth's return. "There, mother, that will do; why, you forget I have been in London lately, and 'tis not the court fashion to rejoice and be glad. Besides, I have seen his Highness, and his Highness's daughters, and his Highness's sons, and drank, in moderation, with his Highness's servants: so, stand off, good mother, stand off!----'honour to whom honour.'" And Robin laid his finger on his nose, while a remarkable expression of cunning and shrewdness passed along his sharp and peculiar features. As he busied himself with preparations for the guest's supper, it was impossible to avoid observing his quick and energetic movements, spare body, dwarfish stature, and long apish arms, that appeared in greater disproportion when viewed beside the now sedate and elevated carriage, the muscular and finely-developed form of the bulky trooper. And, in good sooth, it seemed that Roupall little relished the extraordinary civility shown to the new comer, both by mother and son. Had the stranger been disposed to hold any converse with him, matters might have been different; but he neither asked nor required information--sitting, after his return from the shed in which he had seen his horse sheltered, with his legs stretched out in front of the warm fire, his arms folded on his bosom, and his eyes fixed on the blazing wood that lent a brilliant light to the surrounding objects--giving a simple, though not uncourteous reply of "Yea," or "Nay," to the leading questions occasionally put to him by his rough, yet inquisitive companion. At length, when the rashers were dressed and deposited on the table, flanked on either side with a flagon of Canary and of Gascoigne, and the traveller had done ample justice to his cheer, he, with a conciliating smile and bow, wished the widow and Roupall "Good night," and followed Robin up the ladder, observing that his rest must be very brief, as he had occasion to start early next morning, and begging the good widow and her friend to finish the draught of her own excellent wine, to which he feared to render farther justice. Some time elapsed ere Robin returned; and when he did, he perceived that Roupall was in no gentle humour. "Have you warmed the chicken's nest, and taken good and tender care of the gentle bird, according to orders, Robin? Gadzooks! I see so many cocks with hens' feathers now-a-days--sweet-scented Cavaliers, who could no more draw a trigger than they could mount the moon, that I think Hugh Dalton must line the Fire-fly with miniver to bring them safely over. A murrain take such fellows! say I--close-mouthed, long-eared scoundrels. D--n it! I love a frank heart----" "And a bloody hand, Master Roupall." "Stuff! stuff! Robin; few of either party can show clean hands these times; but does yon gallant come from over sea?" "It might be that he dropped from the sky, for that is over the sea, you know." "Faugh! you are as snappish as a cur whelp. I mean, what is he about?" "Sleeping. Zooks! I'm sure he sleeps." "Is he of good credit?" "Faith, Roupall, I know not his banker." "Good again, Master Robin; upon what grinding-stone were your wits sharpened?" "Right loyally, good trooper; even upon King Log," replied Robin, grinning maliciously; and then, as if fearful that the gathering storm would forthwith burst, he continued: "Come, let's have a carouse, and wake the sleepers in that snug nest between walls; let's welcome in the morning, like gay gallants, while I tell you the court news, and exhibit the last court fashion, as it graces my own beautiful form!" The man looked at him and smiled, soothed into something resembling good-nature by the odd humour and appearance of his old companion, who was tricked out, with much precision, in a blue doublet and yellow hose, while a large bow of sad-coloured riband, with fringed ends, dangled from either knee. He then glanced a look of complacency on his own proper person, and replied,-- "No, let them sleep, Robin; they are better off than I. That maidenlike friend of yours has taken possession of my bed, after your mother's routing me up as if I had been a stoat or a dormouse. Of course he is a Cavalier: I suppose he has a name; but is that, too, a secret?" "Master Roupall," replied the other, with a look of great sagacity, "as to the person, it's hard to say who's who, these times; and as to the name, why, as you say, I suppose he has a name, and doubtless a good one, though I cannot exactly now call to mind what it is; for at court----" "D--n court!" interrupted the other--"you're all court-smitten, I'm thinking. In plain English, I want to know who this youngster is? When Hugh is in one of his romances, he cares not who or what he sends us, either here, or, what is of more consequence, on the main-land--and we are to receive them and 'tend them, and all the time, mayhap, are hazarding our own heads; for I'd bet an even wager that one of the ferrymen is a spy in the pay of old red-nose; and it's little we get for such hazards--it's many a day since even a keg of brandy has been run ashore." "You have sworn an oath, for which I should exact, I think, the sum of three shillings and four-pence, Jack the Rover; but, I fear me, thou hast not wherewithal to satisfy the law, even in a small thing, until thou offerest thy neck unto the halter as a sacrifice. But did Hugh Dalton ever bring you, or any man, into trouble yet?" continued Robin, composing his comic features into a grave and quiet character. "I can't say that he did." "I am sure he has had opportunities enough." "I'm not going to deny that Hugh's a fine fellow, Robin; but I remember, long ago, ay, thirteen or fourteen years past, before he entered on the regular buccaneering trade, there wasn't a firmer Cavalier amongst the whole of us Kentish men. Blazes! how he fought at Marston! But a few years' sunning off the hot Havannah either scorches the spirit out of a man, or burns it in." "And what reason have you to think that Hugh is not now a good Cavalier?" "Pshaw! he grows old, and it's no good trying to pull Oliver down. He's charmed. Ay, you may laugh; but no one of us could have escaped the bullet of Miles Syndercomb, to say nothing of dark John Talbot:--I tell ye, he is spell-guarded. Hugh is a knowing one, and has some plan a-foot, or he wouldn't keep beating about this coast as he does, after being so long from it, and using every county but Sussex and Kent. I wonder, too, what placed you, Master Robin, in Burrell of Burrell's service: I thought you were a man of taste till then." Robin again grinned; and, as his wide mouth literally extended from ear to ear, his face looked, as it were, divided by some accident; so separate did the chin appear from the upper portion of the countenance. "If you wo'n't talk," growled out the trooper, "I hope you will pay those who do so for your amusement." "Thou wouldst have me believe, then, thou art no genuine disinterested talker. Ah! Roupall, Roupall! acquaintance with courts has taught me, that nature in the first place, and society in the second, have imposed upon us mortals two most disagreeable necessities: the one is that of eating; the other, that of talking. Now nature is a tyrant, and society is a tyrant; and I, being a tyrant-hater----" "'Slife, man--or mongrel--or whatever you choose to call your twisted carcass," interrupted Roupall, angrily, "hold your jibber. I wonder Joan Cromwell did not seize upon you, and keep you as her chief ape, while you were making your courtly acquaintance. A pretty figure for courts, truly!--ah! ah! ah!" As he laughed, he pointed his finger scornfully towards Robin Hays, who, however little he might care to jest upon his own deformity, was but ill inclined to tolerate those who even hinted at his defects. As the trooper persevered, his victim grew pale and trembled with suppressed rage. The man perceived the effect his cruel mockery produced, and continued to revile and take to pieces the mis-shapen portions of his body with most merciless anatomy. Robin offered, in return, neither observation nor reproach;--at first trembling and change of colour were the only indications of his feelings--then he moved restlessly on his seat, and his bright and deeply sunken eyes gleamed with untamable malignity; but, as Roupall followed one jeer more brutal than the rest, with a still more boisterous laugh, and, in the very rapture of his success, threw himself back in his chair, the tiger spirit of Robin burst forth to its full extent: he sprang upon the trooper so suddenly, that the Goliath was perfectly conquered, and lay upon the floor helpless as an overgrown and overfed Newfoundland dog, upon whose throat a sharp and bitter terrier has fastened. At length, after much exertion, he succeeded in standing erect against the wall of the apartment, though still unable to disengage Robin's long arms and bony fingers from his throat, where he hung like a mill-stone: it was some minutes ere the gigantic man had power to throw from him the attenuated being whom, on ordinary occasions, he could have lifted between his finger and thumb. Robin gathered himself up on the spot to which Roupall had flung him; his chin resting on his knees, round which his arms were clasped; his narrow chest and shoulders heaving with the exertion of the conflict; his eyes wild and glittering, yet fixed upon his adversary, like those of some fierce animal eager to dart upon its prey. The trooper shook himself, and passed his hand once or twice over his throat, as if to ascertain whether or not he were really strangled; then returning Robin's gaze as steadily, though with a far different expression, he said,-- "Upon my soul, you are as strong a hand at a grapple as I would care to meet; nor would I believe, did I not know it, that Roupall the Rover, who has borne more blows upon his thick head than there are days in February, and rises six feet two without boots, could be half choked by little Robin the Ranger, who stands forty inches in his shoes;--but I beg pardon for offending a man of your mettle. I warrant you safe from any future jests of mine; I like not quarrelling with old friends--when there is nothing to be got by it. Tut, man! leave off your moping, and shake hands, like a Christian. You wo'n't! why you are not going to convert your body into a nursery for bad blood, are you? What would pretty Barbara Iverk say to that?" Robin laughed a laugh so loud, so shrill, so unearthly, that it echoed like a death-howl along the walls; then stretched out and looked on his ill-formed limbs, extended his long and grappling fingers, and muttered bitterly, "Curse!--curse!--curses on myself! I am a dainty morsel for a fair girl's love! Ah! ah! ah! a dainty morsel!" he repeated, and covered his face with his broad palms. Thus, shutting out the sight of his own deformities, and rocking himself backwards and forwards, moaning and jibbering like one distraught, he remained for several minutes. At length poor Crisp, who had been a most anxious spectator of the scene, ran timidly to his master, and, standing on his hind legs, began licking his fingers with an affectionate earnestness, more soothing to his agitated feelings than all the sincere apologies of the trooper, whose rough good-nature was really moved at what had taken place. Slowly uncovering his face, Robin pressed the little animal to his bosom, bending his head over it, and muttering in a tone the dog seemed fully to understand, by the low whine with which he returned the caress. After a time his eyes met those of Roupall's, but their meaning was totally changed: they no longer sparkled with fury, but were as quiet and subdued as if nothing had occurred. "You'll shake hands now," exclaimed the trooper, "and make the child's bargain." Robin, rising, extended his hand; and it was cordially taken by his adversary, who soon after removed the settle, and entered the concealed room to join his slumbering companions. Whatever were Robin's plans, reflections, or feelings, time alone can develope; for, laying himself before the yet burning embers of the fire, he appropriated the stranger's cloak as a coverlet, in which to enshroud himself and Crisp; and, if oral demonstrations are to be credited, was soon in a profound sleep. CHAPTER IV. Yet not the more Cease I to wander, where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song. * * * * * Great things, and full of wonder, in our ears, Far differing from the world, thou hast revealed, Divine Interpreter. MILTON. The morning that followed was rife with the sweet and balmy air and the gay sunshine, so duly prized in our variable climate, because of the rarity of their occurrence; more especially when the year is yet too young to assist with vigour the energies of all-industrious nature. The trees, in their faint greenery, looked cheerful as the face of childhood: the merry birds were busied after their own gentle fashion forming their dwellings in the covert and solitude of the wooded slopes which effectually sheltered Cecil Place from the chill blast of the neighbouring sea. The freshened breeze came so kindly through the thick underwood, as to be scarcely felt by the early wanderers of the upland hill or valley green. Even the rough trooper, Roupall, yielded to the salutary influence of the morn; and as he toiled in his pedlar's guise across the downs, which were mottled with many hundred sheep, and pointed the pathway to King's Ferry, his heart softened within him. Visions of his once happy home in Cumberland--of the aged parents who fostered his infancy--of the companions of his youth, before he had lived in sin, or dwelt with sorrow--of the innocent girl, who had loved, though she had forsaken him--all passed before him; the retrospect became the present; and his heart swelled painfully within him; for he thought on what he had been, and on what he was, until, drawing his coarse hand across his brows, he gave forth a dissolute song, seeking, like many who ought to be wiser, to stifle conscience by tumultuous noise. About the same hour, our friend Robin Hays was more than usually active in his mother's house, which we have already described, and which was known by the name of the "Gull's Nest." The old woman had experienced continued kindness from the few families of rank and wealth who at that time resided in Shepey. With a good deal of tact, she managed outwardly to steer clear of all party feuds; though people said she was by no means so simple as she pretended; but the universal sympathy of her neighbours was excited by her widowed and almost childless state--three fine sons having been slain during the civil wars--and the fourth, our acquaintance Robin, being singularly undervalued, on the ordinary principle, we may presume, that "a prophet hath no honour in his own country." This feeling of depreciation Robin certainly returned with interest, indulging a most bitter, and, occasionally, biting contempt for all the high and low in his vicinity, the family at Cecil Place forming the only exception. Despite his defects natural and acquired, he had, however, managed to gain the good opinion of Burrell of Burrell, who, though, frequently on the island, possessed only a small portion of land within its boundary. Into his service he entered for the purpose of accompanying the knight to London as travelling-groom; and he had rendered himself so useful while sojourning in the metropolis, that Burrell would fain have retained him in his employ--a project, however, to which Robin strenuously objected, the moment it was communicated to him. "Nature," he said, "had doubtless made him a bond-slave; but he liked her fetters so little, that he never would be slave to any one or any thing beside." He therefore returned to the "Gull's Nest" on the night his late master arrived at Cecil Place, from which his mother's home was distant about three miles. Never was there a dwelling more appropriately named than the cottage of Mother Hays. It stood on either a real or artificial eminence between Sheerness and Warden, facing what is called "The Cant," and very near the small village of East Church. The clay and shingle of which it was composed would have ill encountered the whirlwind that in tempestuous weather fiercely yelled around the cliffs, had it not been for the firm support afforded to it by the remains of an ancient watchtower, against which the "Gull's Nest" leaned. Perched on this remarkable spot, and nestling close to the mouldering but still sturdy walls, the very stones of which disputed with the blast, the hut formed no inappropriate dwelling for withered age, and, if we may be allowed the term, picturesque deformity. Robin could run up and down every cliff in the neighbourhood like a monkey--could lie on the waters, and sport amid the breakers, with the activity of a cub-seal--dive like an otter; and, as nature generally makes up in some way or other for defects similar to those so conspicuous in the widow's son, she had gifted him with so sweet a voice, that the fishermen frequently rested on their oars beneath "Gull's Nest" crag, to listen to Robin's wild and mournful ballads, which full often mingled with the murmur of the small waves as they rippled on the strand. But the manikin, Robin, had higher and better qualities than those we have endeavoured to describe--qualities which Hugh Dalton, with the ready wisdom that discovers at once what is excellent, and then moulds that excellence to its own purpose, had assiduously cultivated. Many years before the period of which we treat, Robin had accompanied the Buccaneer on one or two piratical cruises; and though it cannot be denied that Hugh was a better sailor than scholar, yet he generously sought to secure for little Robin the advantages he did not himself possess; Robin, accordingly, received daily instruction in penmanship from a run-away merchant's clerk, the clerk and bookkeeper, the lubber and idler of the crew. Robin laboured to reward this kindness by unshaken fidelity, unceasing watchfulness, and a wild enthusiasm which endeared him to the rude captain, as if he were something that belonged exclusively to himself. The Buccaneer knew that secrets, where life and property were at stake, were safe in his keeping; and as the renowned Dalton had often worked in the service of both Cavaliers and Roundheads, a person of ready wit and true heart was most invaluable as an auxiliary on the coast. If the Buccaneer entertained any political creed, it was certainly in favour of the exiled Charles: a bold and intrepid spirit like his felt something most galling and repulsive in the stern and unyielding government of the Protector. A ruler who not only framed acts, but saw those acts enforced, whether they regarded a "Declaration for a day of Publique Thanksgiving," or "A Licence for transporting Fish in Foreign Bottoms," was not likely to be much after the taste of one who had the essence of lawgiving only within himself, and who perceived clearly enough that the royal but thoughtless Stuarts would be more easily managed--more prone, if not from feeling, at all events from indolence, to overlook the peccadilloes of such as Dalton, than the unflinching Oliver, who felt that every evil he redressed was a fresh jewel in his sceptre. Nevertheless, as we have seen, the Buccaneer had decided on offering his services to the Commonwealth: he believed that Cromwell knew his talents and valued his courage; but he also knew that the Protector piqued himself upon consistency, and that, consequently, there would be vast difficulties to overcome, as a price had more than once been set upon his head. We must, however, conduct our readers back into the fresh morning we have instanced as one of the favourites of spring. Leaving Robin to his preparations for the stranger's breakfast, and premising that he had previously dismissed the midnight revellers on their respective errands, we will roam for a while amid the sheltered walks of Cecil Place. It was situated on the slope of the hill, leading to the old monastery of Minster. Although nothing now exists except the church, a few broken walls, and a modernised house, formed out of one of the principal entrances to what was once an extensive range of monastic buildings; yet at the time of which we treat, the ruins of the nunnery, founded by Sexburga, the widow of Ercombert, King of Kent, extended down the rising ground, presenting many picturesque points of view from the small but highly-cultivated pleasure grounds of Cecil Place. Nothing could be more beautiful than the prospect from a rude terrace which had been the favourite walk of Lady Cecil. The small luxuriant hills, folding one over the other, and terminating in the most exquisite valleys and bosky glades the imagination can conceive--the rich mixture of pasture and meadow land--the Downs, stretching to King's Ferry, whitened by thousands of sheep, whose bleatings and whose bells made the isle musical--while, beyond, the narrow Swale, widening into the open sea, shone like a silver girdle in the rays of the glorious sun--were objects, indeed, delicious to gaze upon. Although, during the Protectorate, some pains had been taken to render Sheerness, then a very inconsiderable village, a place of strength and safety, and the ancient castle of Queenborough had been pulled down by the Parliamentarians, as deficient in strength and utility, no one visiting only the southern and western parts of the island could for a moment imagine that the interior contained spots of such positive and cultivated beauty. It was yet early, when Constantia Cecil, accompanied by a female friend, entered her favourite flower-garden by a private door, and strolled towards a small Gothic temple overshadowed by wide-spreading oaks, which, sheltered by the surrounding hills, had numbered more than a century of unscathed and undiminished beauty, and had as yet escaped the rude pruning of the woodman's axe. The morning habit of the noble Constance fitted tightly to the throat, where it was terminated by a full ruff of starched muslin, and the waist was encircled by a wide band of black crape, from which the drapery descended in massive folds to her feet. She pressed the soft green turf with a more measured step than was her wont, as if the body shared the mind's sad heaviness. Her head was uncovered, save that, as she passed into the garden, she had carelessly thrown on a veil of black muslin, through which her bright hair shone with the lustre and richness of the finest satin: her throat and forehead appeared most dazzlingly white in contrast with her sable dress. The lady by whom she was accompanied was not so tall, and of a much slighter form; her limbs delicately moulded, and her features more attractive than beautiful. There was that about her whole demeanour which is expressively termed coquetry, not the coquetry of action, but of feeling: her eyes were dark and brilliant, her mouth full and pouting; and the nose was only saved from vulgarity by that turn, to describe which we are compelled to use a foreign term--it was _un peu retroussé_: her complexion was of a clear olive, through which the blood glowed warmly whenever called to her cheek by any particular emotion. The dress she wore, without being gay, was costly: the full skirt of crimson grogram descended not so low as to prevent her small and beautifully-turned ankle from being distinctly seen, and the cardinal of wrought purple velvet, which had been hastily flung over her shoulders, was lined and bordered with the finest ermine. Nor did the contrast between the ladies end here: the full and rich-toned voice of Constance Cecil was the perfection of harmony, while the light and gay speech of her companion might be called melody--the sweet playful melody of an untaught bird. "You must not mourn so unceasingly, my dear Constance," she said, looking kindly into the sorrowing face of her friend: "I could give you counsel--but counsel to the distressed is like chains thrown upon troubled waters." "Say not so, Frances; rather like oil upon a stormy sea is the sweet counsel of a friend; and truly none but a friend would have turned from the crowded and joyous court to sojourn in this lonely isle; and, above all, in the house of mourning." "I do not deny to you, Constance, that I love the gaiety, the pomp, and the homage of our courts; that both Hampton and Whitehall have many charms for me; but there are some things--some things I love far more. I loved your mother," she continued, in a tone of deeper feeling than was usual with so gay a spirit; "and I love the friend who, while she reproves my follies, can estimate my virtues: for even my sombre sister Elizabeth, your grave god-mother, admits that I have virtues, though she denies them to be of an exalted nature." "Were the Lady Claypole to judge of others according to the standard of her own exceeding excellence, Frances, we should, indeed, fall far below what we are disposed to believe is our real value; but, like the rose, instead of robbing less worthy flowers of their fragrance, she imparts to them a portion of her own." "Now should I like to call that a most courtly compliment, but for my life I cannot--it is so true." "You pronounce a severe satire on your father's court, my friend; and one that I hope it merits not." "Merits! Perhaps not--for, though the youngest and least rational of my father's children, I can perceive there are some about him who hit upon truth occasionally, either by chance or intention. There's that rugged bear, Sir Thomas Pride, whom, I have heard say, my father knighted with a mopstick--he, I do believe, speaks truth, and of a truth follows one scriptural virtue, being no respecter of persons. As to General George Monk, my father trusts him--and so--yet have I observed, at any mention of Charles Stuart's name, a cunning twinkling of the eye that may yet kindle into loyalty.--I would as soon believe in his honesty as in his lady's gentleness. Did you hear, by the way, what Jerry, my poor disgraced beau, Jerry White, said of her? Why, that if her husband could raise and command a regiment endowed with his wife's spirit, he might storm the stronghold of sin, and make Satan a state prisoner. Then our Irish Lord Chancellor--we call him the true Steele; and, indeed, any one who ventures to tell my father he errs, deserves credit. Yes, Sir William Steele may certainly be called a truth-teller. Not so our last court novelty, Griffeth Williams of Carnarvon, Esq., who though he affects to despise all modern titles, and boasts of his blood-ties with the Princes of Wales, Kings of France, Arragon, Castile, and Man, with the sovereigns of Englefield and Provence to boot, yet moves every secret engine he can find to gain a paltry baronetcy! Even you, dear Constance, would have smiled to see the grave and courtly salutations that passed between him and the Earl of Warwick--the haughty Earl, who refused to sit in the same house with Pride and Hewson--a circumstance, by the way, that caused Jerry White to say, 'he had too much _Pride_ to attend to the mending of his _soul_.' The jest is lost unless you remember that Hewson had been a cobbler. As to John Milton----" "Touch him not," interrupted Constance; "let not your thoughtless mirth light upon John Milton; there is that about the poet, which made me feel the very first time I saw him, that-- 'Something holy lodges in that breast.' I remember the day well, now more than three years ago, while staying at Hampton Court, (whither your gracious mother had commanded me,) and reading to the Lady Claypole, near the small window of her dressing-room, which opened into the conservatory, one sultry July evening, when the last rays of the golden sun disturbed the sober and to me more touching beauty of the silver night--at last I could no longer see, and closed the volume; your sister, in sweet and gentle voice, stayed me to repeat some passages from the 'Masque of Comus.' How accurately I can call to mind her every tone, as it mingled with the perfume of the myrtle and orange trees, impregnating the air at once with harmony and fragrance. 'So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt; And in clear dream and solemn vision Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heavenly habitants Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, The unpolluted temple of the mind. And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, Till all be made immortal.' I was so absorbed by the beauty of the poetry, and the exquisite grace and feeling with which it was repeated, that my eyes were riveted on your sister; nor could I withdraw them, even when she ceased to speak. Thus abstracted, I was perfectly unconscious that a gentleman was standing close to the great orange-tree, so that the rays of the full moon rested on his uncovered head: his hair was parted in the centre, and fell on his shoulders at either side, and his deportment was of mingled dignity and sweetness. 'John Milton!' exclaimed Lady Claypole, rising; 'I knew not,' she continued, 'that you had been so near us.'--'The temptation was great, indeed, madam: a poet never feels that he has true fame, until lips such as yours give utterance to his lines.' He bowed low, and I thought coldly, over Lady Claypole's extended hand. She walked into the conservatory, and called on me to follow. How my heart throbbed! how I trembled! I felt in the almost divine presence of one whose genius I had worshipped with a devotion which, enthusiastic as it was, I am not even now ashamed of. I longed to fall at his feet, and implore his blessing; to kiss the hem of his garment; and thought, in my foolishness, that inspiration might be communicated by his touch. I pushed back my hair, so that I might not lose a word he uttered, or the least look he gave. 'His sight was so impaired,' he said, 'that the light of day occasioned him much pain; and of late he had been so useless to his Highness, that he feared to intrude too often into his presence.' Lady Claypole made some remark, which in truth I little heeded, for I longed again to hear the poet speak; nor did I remain ungratified. In answer to some observation, he stated, 'he was well aware that much of what he had written would not meet with the indulgence she had graciously bestowed upon his verse; for, though they both valued freedom, they widely differed as to the mode of its attainment.' To this the Lady Claypole made no reply; and presently we had issued from the conservatory, and stood for a few moments on the terrace. 'How beautiful!' said your sister, as she raised her eyes to the glorious heavens, sparkling with countless stars, whose brilliancy was showered on the now sleeping earth--'Yes, beautiful!' repeated Milton; and his voice, so musical, yet melancholy, thrilled to my inmost soul: 'Beautiful!' he said again, as if the word was pleasant in his ears; 'and yet the time is coming fast when I shall behold that beauty no more--when I shall be more humbled than the poor insects upon which I may now heedlessly tread--they creep, but see; I shall be a thing of darkness in the midst of light--irrevocably dark!--total eclipse!--without the hope of day! Your pardon, Lady; but is it not strange, that life's chiefest blessing should be enthroned in such a tender ball, when feeling is diffused all over us?'--'The Maker must be the best judge,' replied your sister.--''Tis true,' he said; 'and the same hand that wounds can heal. I will not sorrow, if I can refrain from grief, though it is hard to bear; yet often, when I look upon my daughters, I think how sad 'twill be when I no more can trace their change of form and feature. And this deep affliction comes upon me in my manhood's prime:--life in captivity--all around me grows darker each fair day I live. A bunch of violets was given me this morning; their fragrance was delicious, yet I could not discern the little yellow germ that I knew dwelt within their dark blue petals, and I put them from me because I could not see as well as smell:--'twas foolish, but 'twas natural. The moon at this very moment looks so sallow--pale--and you,' he bowed to us as he spoke, 'and you, even you, ladies, appear both dim and cold!' I thought he laid more emphasis on the word _cold_ than on the other words, perhaps in allusion to the political differences between Lady Claypole and himself: your sister thought so too.--'You do us wrong,' she observed warmly; 'never, never cold to John Milton! never, indeed never! This sad affliction, if it should continue, (which the Almighty in his mercy forbid!) will create for you new worlds; when all its treasures are destroyed, you will but close your eyes on earth that you may look through heaven.' What would I not have given for such a rewarding smile as played upon without disturbing his features! Your sister, surprised into an enthusiasm that was not in keeping with her usually subdued deportment, turned aside, and taking me by the hand, presented me to him, saying, 'Here, sir, is a little girl, who, though she has only numbered sixteen summers, has learned to value Milton!' What do you think I said, Frances? Nothing:--that might have passed--but what do you think I did? I fell on my knees, and kissed his hand! I am almost ashamed to repeat such frowardness, though done in all the purity of truth;--not that I think he was displeased." "Displeased!" interrupted the Lady Frances, who had kept silence marvellously long; "oh! no, it is not in man to be displeased with the devotedness, the love of woman----" "I prithee, peace," interrupted Constance in her turn: for the word 'love' had called the flush into her pale cheek; "thou art ever placing earth on a level with heaven." "And thou, my saintly friend, wouldst bring heaven down to earth. I remember my sister Claypole treating of this before, saying that Milton laid his fingers on thy forehead, and that thou didst clip off the particular ringlet pressed by them, and enshrine it in a jewelled cross." "I confess----" "To the folly of despoiling thy tresses?" "Dearest Frances, you are cruel in your gaiety. How I watched his retreating footsteps as he passed under the archway, after bidding us good night! His gait was measured, but, though his sight was so impaired, I observed that his head was thrown upward, and that he walked as one having no fear." "Well, give me Milton in the morn, but the gay Lovelace when the twilight shades come down. I know a fair gentleman who sings his ballads most sweetly. You, too, had you heard him, would have listened a second tune:-- 'True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field, And with a stronger faith embrace A sword--a horse--a shield. 'Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore-- I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more!' But I forget, the theme is a forbidden one; and I see, Constance, you do not like my poet, and I have a mind not to admire yours! Ah! poor Lovelace! he might have been my laureate." "I thought the Lady Frances sighed no longer for a thorny crown." "I may surely love the poetry of a Cavalier without wishing to be the bride of Prince Charlie. My father's fiat has gone forth against my royal lover's offer, and so I shall be the wife of some staid sober Covenanter, I suppose; that is, if I follow my father's wishes, and marry Will Dulton." "Better than be the wedded mistress of a dissolute man," said Constance, firmly. "Believe me, Charles Stuart has all his father's weakness without his father's virtues." "Well, be it so," replied Frances Cromwell: "I did not care; but methinks I should have liked the garniture of a crown and the grasp of a sceptre. You should have been my first maid of honour.--But your pardon, lady fair--you will be the first married, if I can judge from Sir Willmott Burrell's earnestness of late." As she spoke, Constance Cecil grew deadly pale; and, to conceal her emotion, sat upon the step of the Gothic temple before which they had been standing for some minutes. Frances did not observe the change, but heedlessly continued:--"Ah! it is happy for those who can marry as they will, and him they love; to whom the odious Sound of 'state necessity' is utterly unknown." "And think you," said Constance, in a voice struggling for composure, "think you so poorly of me, that I can _will_ to marry such as Burrell, of my own free choice! Oh! Frances, Frances! would to Heaven the same grave had closed over me that closed over my mother!" She clasped her hands with an earnestness amounting to agony, and there came an expression over her features which forbade all trifling. Frances Cromwell was a warm, cheerful, and affectionate girl; but to her it was not given to understand the depth or the refinement of minds such as that of her friend. Her own home was not a peaceful one, for party spirit, that hydra of disunion, raged and ravaged there, without regard to years or sex. The Protector's most beloved child was known to be faithfully attached to the Stuart cause; while his eldest daughter was so staunch a republican, that she only blamed her father for accepting power bordering so closely upon royalty. This difference occasioned sad and terrible domestic trouble; and the man, feared, honoured, courted by the whole world, ruling the dynasties of kingdoms, could not insure an hour's tranquillity within his own palace walls! Frances, the youngest, interfered the least in their most grievous feuds. She had so many flirtations, both romantic and anti-romantic, to attend to, that, like all women who flirt much, she thought little. The perfect misery so fearfully, yet so strongly painted upon the countenance of Constance, was to her utterly incomprehensible. Had it been the overboiling of passion, the suppressed but determined rage, or the murmuring of discontent, Frances could have understood it, because it would have resembled what she had full often witnessed; but she had never before beheld the struggles of a firm and elevated mind against a cruel and oppressive destiny. Frances Cromwell looked upon her friend for some moments, uncertain what course to pursue. She knelt down and took her hands within her own; they were cold as death, rigid as marble. She bent over her!-- "Constance! Constance! speak! Merciful Providence!" she exclaimed aloud, "What can I do? what shall I do? Barbara! Alas! alas! she hears me not--Dear Constance! This is worse than faintness," she continued, as exertions to restore her proved ineffectual; for Constantia, exhausted by her efforts to appear tranquil, and to chime in with the temper of her guest, until tortured at the very mention of Burrell's name, remained still insensible. "I must leave her and seek assistance from within," repeated Frances, rapidly unclasping her jewelled mantle, throwing it over her friend, and flying, rather than running, along the shaven path they had so recently paced in gentle converse. No very long time elapsed before the lady returned, followed by Barbara Iverk and another faithful attendant. "Thank God!" exclaimed Frances, "she must be recovered, for her position is changed." And so it was--the veil of black had entirely fallen off, and her unconfined hair reposed in rich shadowy masses on her bosom and shoulders: one arm rested on her knee, while the extended hand supported her head; the other was open on her lap, and upon its small and transparent palm lay a large locket of peculiar workmanship, set round with brilliants. On this her eyes were fixed; and when her bower-maid, Barbara, endeavoured to rouse her mistress's attention, the first symptom of returning consciousness she gave, was to hide the jewel within her bosom. She appeared like one waking from a long dream. Frances spoke to her in a tone of gentle cheerfulness,-- "Come, dearest, it is cold; we will in: you must be better presently. One moment; let me bind up this hair; it keeps back the cloak from covering your throat, and you shiver like an aspen." Frances was gathering the large tresses eagerly in her hand, when she stopped, and letting them suddenly fall, exclaimed,-- "What's here to do! One of the finest of your lady's braids severed more than mid-way, and by no scissors, truly; absolutely butchered! Do but look, Barbara; I am sure 'twas not so this morning!" The young tire-woman lifted up her hands in horror and amazement; for she very properly regarded her mistress's beautiful hair as under her own especial control, and was about to make some inquiry touching the mysterious incident, when Constance drew the cardinal completely over her head, and, leaning her arm on Barbara's shoulder, proceeded towards the house. Notwithstanding the great anxiety of Lady Frances on the score of her friend's indisposition, and it is but justice to admit she loved her with all the constancy of which her volatile nature was capable, her affection was nearly overpowered by her curiosity--curiosity to discover how Constance obtained the locket, and how she lost her most admired tress. Yet, to neither of these perplexities had she the slightest clue. Intimate as they had been from childhood; superior as was her rank to that of Sir Robert Cecil's daughter; yet was there no one of her acquaintance with whom she would not sooner have taken a liberty than with Constance Cecil. In the course of the day she tried every little art that female ingenuity could devise, short of saying, "How came you by that locket?" to induce her to talk on the subject--and in vain. Constance made no assertion--offered no explanation; but, when Frances appeared to come too near the subject, she silenced all farther approach to confidential communication, simply by raising her clear, calm, and holy eye, letting it fall upon the animated, restless face of her companion, and then shading its glory by the long silken lashes that almost rested on the exquisitely moulded cheek. It was this peculiar look that made her lively friend usually designate her "the awful beauty." Still curiosity, that most busy and feminine sprite, tortured the Lady Frances with extraordinary perseverance; and, in the end, it suddenly occurred to her that Barbara might know or conjecture something about the matter: accordingly, at night, she dismissed her own women, under some pretext or other, to their chambers, and summoned the pretty Puritan to wait at her toilet. Poor Barbara was as neat and as docile a maid as any country gentlewoman could desire; but, as she had never accompanied her ladies to court, to which, because of Lady Cecil's illness, they had been rare visiters of late, she felt somewhat nervous on being called into active duty by so great a personage as the Lady Frances Cromwell. With trembling hands she unlaced the velvet bodice, released the tiny feet from their thraldom, set loose the diamond clasps of the sparkling stomacher; and, after arraying the lady in a wrapping robe of fringed linen, with point-lace collar, commenced the disentangling of her raven hair: this was a task that required skill and patience. Nature had been so bountiful to her own fair mistress, that her hair needed no art to increase either its quality or quantity: the simple Barbara consequently stood aghast when a vast portion of the fabric fell to the ground the moment a little dark band had been separated from the pretty head of the more courtly maiden. Frances laughed as the girl's astonished features were reflected in the polished mirror before which she sat: so evident was her dismay, as she held it forth, exclaiming, "I did not pull it off, my lady----" "Ah, wicked wench! so you would rob _my_ head as well as your lady's. Now, Barbara, tell me truly, what didst do with that same lock I missed this morning?" "I, my lady?" "Yes, you. No one else, I suppose, dresses your lady's hair." "That may be; but I assure your ladyship I never cut off that curl:--it is quite wonderful!" "So it is, as you say, like a very sensible girl, 'quite wonderful;' but, Barbara, do you think you could find out who did cut it off?" "Not unless my lady would tell me." "But is there no way?" "Only by asking my lady, and that I could not presume to do." "Nor I either," thought Lady Frances: "but, Barbara, you might think--or--or--see perhaps----" "Please you, my lady, I do think a great deal, and the Rev. Mr. Fleetword said to me only this morning, that I grew in grace as much as in stature. And, as to seeing, please your ladyship----" "Pshaw, child! it is not that I mean. Could you not discover? Besides--the locket! did you ever see that locket in your lady's possession till this morning?" "No, madam." "Perhaps," continued Frances, blushing and stammering at her curiosity, "it might be well to ascertain something about both mysteries, for your lady's good." "I am sure, my lady, I can't tell; but my mistress is very wise, and if she wished me to know any thing of such like, would direct me herself. Shall I put any of this ambergris in your ladyship's hair, or do you better like the musk-rose?"--How perplexing to the cunning is straightforward simplicity! "Now," thought Lady Frances, "one of the court waiting-maids would have comprehended my meaning in a moment; and this wench, with ten times their zeal and real sense, thinks it downright wicked to pry into her lady's secrets. I wonder my women have not taught her the court fashions.--You may go to bed, Barbara; light my night lamp, and give me a book; I do not feel at all sleepy." Barbara, with great _naïveté_, presented to Lady Frances a small Bible that lay on the dressing-table:--something resembling a smile passed over the lady's face as she took the volume, but she only observed, "Give me also that book with the golden clasps; I would fain peruse my cousin Waller's last hymn.--What an utterly useless thing is that which is called simplicity!" she said, half aloud, as Barbara closed the door. "And yet I would sooner trust my life in the hands of that country damsel, than with the fine ones, who, though arrayed in plain gowns, flatter corrupt fancies at Whitehall or Hampton!" CHAPTER V. By holy Mary! Butts, there's knavery. SHAKSPEARE. Having consigned the Lady Frances Cromwell to her perfumed couch, and the companionship of Waller's sweet and sonorous strains, we leave her to determine whether the high and mighty Lady Dorothea Sidney, the Poet's Saccharissa, or the gentle Lady Sophia Murray, the beauteous Amoret of his idolatry, were most worthy the affection he so generously bestowed on both. Waller, the most specious flatterer of flattering courts--the early worshipper of Charles the First--the pusillanimous betrayer of his friends--the adulator of Cromwell--the wit and the jester of the second Charles--the devotional whiner of the bigot James--had not, however, sufficient power to keep the lady from her slumbers long. She was soon in the refreshing sleep, known only to the light-hearted. Constance Cecil was more wakeful. After Barbara's dismissal from the presence of Lady Frances, she crept with slow and stealthy space to the chamber of her dear mistress, and softly turning the bolt, displaced the curtains of silver damask with so light a touch, that her entrance was unnoticed. The girl perceived at once that her lady was not asleep. She had evidently been reading, for the holy volume was still open, and one hand rested amid its leaves: but even Barbara was astonished when she saw that her attention was spell-bound to the mysterious locket she held in the other hand. The excellent servant, with that true honesty of mind which no education can teach, knowing that her lady had not heard her enter, and feeling, rather than reasoning upon, the indelicacy of prying into what she believed was secret, purposely let fall a chalice, which effectually roused Constance, who, placing the trinket under the pillow, called upon her attendant for her night drink, and then pointed out a particular psalm she wished her to read aloud. It was a holy and a beautiful sight in that quiet chamber: the young and high born maiden, her head resting on pillows of the finest cambric; her arms crossed meekly on her bosom, whose gentle breathings moved, without disturbing the folds of her night-tire; her eyes elevated; her lips sufficiently apart to show the small, pearly teeth, glittering in whiteness within their coral nest;--then, as promises of hope and happiness beyond the control of mortality, found voice from Barbara's mouth, a tear would steal down her cheek, unbidden and unnoticed, but not unregistered by that God who knows our griefs, and whose balm is ever for the heavy at heart. Barbara sat on a writing stool by the bed-side, supporting the Bible on her knees, while the beams of a golden lamp, placed on a lofty tripod near the foot of the bed, fell directly on the book: the light, however, was not sufficiently powerful to illume the farthermore parts of the chamber, whose walls were hung with figured tapestry, the gloom of which contrasted strongly with the bright blue and silver that canopied Constantia's bed. The next chamber was occupied by her father: it was lofty, but not spacious. The inside of the door was guarded by many bolts; and at the moment his daughter was seeking commune with, and counsel from, the Almighty, he was employed in examining and securing them with evident anxiety. First one, and then another, was pushed to its rest; then he turned the key in the lock--once, twice. Having shaken, or rather attempted to shake, the massive door, to determine if it were really secure, Sir Robert Cecil proceeded to inspect the window fastenings; and being convinced they were in their places, he turned to the table where the light burnt brightly, examined a brace of pistols, which he placed under his pillow, and then, took down a huge heavy sword from a shelf where it lay concealed, pulled it forth from its scabbard, and applied his thumb along the edge, to be satisfied of its sharpness. Having laid the weapon by his bed-side, he commenced, unaided, to undress. This did not occupy him long, though he stopped occasionally, his eye glancing round the apartment, his ear bent, as if some unhallowed noise had struck upon it suddenly. As he moved to his lonely couch, he passed before an immense glass, in a heavy oaken frame: his own reflection met his eye; he started as if a spectre had crossed his path--his cheek blanched--his knees smote one against the other--his respiration was impeded. At last, waving his hand, as if to dispel the phantom his imagination had conjured up, he sprang into the bed, and buried his head under its pillows. At the end of the corridor which led to the sleeping-chambers, was the apartment appropriated to Burrell of Burrell, whenever he was a guest at Cecil Place; his visits, however, were not so frequent, or of such long duration, as might have been expected in the lover of Lady Constance Cecil. He was fast approaching the meridian of life, and his youth had been spent chiefly at court:--at both courts, in fact, for he had been a partisan of the unhappy Charles, and afterwards, at heart, as complete a regicide as any who took a more active part in the terrible transactions of the times. He joined the army of the Parliament, nevertheless, but for a short time, pleading, as an excuse, the necessity there was for remaining amongst his own tenants and thralls to keep them in subjection. Sir Willmott Burrell may well be designated a man of two characters--one for public, one for private life. His manners to his superiors, and generally to his equals, were bland and insinuating; to his inferiors he was overbearing, haughty, and severe, except when he had some particular point to carry, and then he could cringe to and fawn upon the vilest. He had a peculiar method of entering into men's hearts, and worming from each whatever best suited his purpose; but the principle upon which he invariably acted, was, to extract the honey from the rose, and then scatter its leaves to the whirlwind and the blast. Devoid of every thing like moral or religious feeling, he used Puritanism as a cloak for selfishness and sin; and though he had often cursed his good character when it stood in the way of his pleasures, yet it was too needful to be cast off as a worthless garment. A plotting mind united to a graceful exterior, is as dangerous to the interests of society as a secret mine to a besieged city, inasmuch as it is impossible to calculate upon the evils that may suddenly arise either from the one or the other. Sir Willmott Burrell, of Burrell, had managed to make himself acquainted with many of Sir Robert Cecil's secrets; and even those he had not heard, he guessed at, with that naturally acute knowledge which is rarely in the wrong. He was too great a sensualist to be indifferent to the beauty of Constance, which, like all sensualists, he considered the sole excellence of woman; but he arraigned the wisdom of Nature in endowing aught so fair with mind, or enriching it with soul; and the dignity and purity of his destined bride, instead of making him proud, made him angry and abashed. Constance heard of Burrell's grace, of Burrell's wit, and sometimes--though even amongst ladies it was a disputed point--of his beauty, without ever being able to discover any thing approaching to these qualities in her future husband; and certainly he never appeared to so little advantage as when in her presence: her eye kept him under a subjection, the force of which he was ashamed to acknowledge; and although there could be no question that his chief desire for the approaching alliance proceeded from a cherished affection for the broad acres and dark woods of the heiress of Cecil, yet he bitterly regretted that the only feeling the lady manifested towards him was one of decided coldness--he almost feared of contempt. The day after her mother's funeral, she had refused to see him, although he knew that she had been abroad with Lady Frances in the gardens of the Place; and though Sir Robert urged indisposition as the cause, yet his pride was deeply mortified. A weighty communication from France, where he had been a resident for some months, as an _attaché_ to the English embassy, appeared to have increased the discontent of his already ruffled temper. He retired early to his chamber, and his moody and disturbed countenance looked angered and mysterious by the light of an untrimmed lamp, as he inspected various documents and papers that lay scattered before him on a table of carved oak, inlaid with silver. One letter, which he read and re-read with much attention, seemed to excite him more than all the rest: he turned it over and over--examined the seal--laid it down--took it up--put it aside again--folded his arms over his chest, and, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, appeared for a time absorbed in the remembrance of past events. Finally, he committed the letter to the flames, and then paced up and down the room with unequal steps, his head bent forward, and his arms folded, as before, over his bosom. He was evidently ill at ease with himself, and there gleamed "a lurking devil in his eye," that augured peril to some one, and bespoke a man who was neither "infirm of purpose," nor slow in the execution of whatever mischief was designed. He did not retire to his bed until the lamp gave token that its oil was expended, when, flinging himself on the coverlet without removing any portion of his dress, he sought rest. Nor were Sir Willmott's slumbers of long duration; before the sun had risen, he was up and a-foot. Having let himself down from his window and out at the postern-gate, he took the path that led in the direction of Gull's Nest Crag. The night had been wild and stormy; the freshness and freedom of the air now compensated for the turmoil that had passed; but the ocean's wrathfulness was still unappeased, and Burrell listened to its roarings while it lashed the beach with its receding waves, like a war-horse pawing and foaming when the battle din has sunk into the silence that succeeds the shout of victory, as if eager again to meet the shock of death. Suddenly he struck out of the usual track, across a portion of waste land, the utmost verge of which skirted the toppling cliffs; and making for himself a way through tangled fern, long grass, and prickly furze, he strode on in a more direct line towards the dwelling of Robin Hays, pursuing his course, heedless of the petty annoyances he encountered, although his feet were frequently entangled among the stunts and stubs that opposed his progress, with the air of one whose mind was evidently bent on the fulfilment of some hazardous but important purpose. It was so early that not a shepherd had unpenned his fold, nor a girl gone forth to the milking: such cattle as remained at liberty during the night, still slumbered on the sward; and the wily fox roamed with less caution than was his wont, under the knowledge that no enemy was by to watch his progress. "I may reach Gull's Nest, and return," thought Burrell, "and that before any in the house are astir." But, at the moment, a tall, lank figure, moving with measured pace, yet nevertheless approaching rapidly, from the very point towards which his steps were bent, arrested his attention; and as it came nearer and nearer, he was much disconcerted at the discovery that no other than the Reverend Jonas Fleetword, from whom he anticipated a sharp rebuke for his absence from Lady Cecil's funeral, was about to cross his path. He would have gladly hailed the approach of Birnam wood, so it could have settled down between him and the reverend Jonas; but as no place of refuge was at hand, he bethought himself of the shield of patience, drew his cloak as closely as if he were about to encounter a fierce north wind, and finally returned with much courtesy the salutation of the preacher, whose apt and ready eloquence had obtained for him the significant appellation of Fleetword. The locks of the divine, according to the approved fashion, had been cropped closely round his head, and his thin sharp visage looked of most vinegar-like tinge and character, peering, as it now did, from beneath a steeple-crowned hat of formal cut. He wore a black cloth cloak and doublet, his Flemish breeches and hose were of the same sombre hue, and his square-toed shoes were surmounted by large crape roses. Contrary, as it would seem, to the custom of a disciple of the peace-loving Saviour, he also wore a basket-handled sword, girded round his loins by a broad strap of black leather. In truth, face, figure, and all included, he was as harsh and ill-favoured a person as could have been encountered even at that day,--one whose lips would have seemed to taint the blessing to which he might have given utterance; and graceless as Burrell undoubtedly was, there was excuse for the impatience he felt at such an unlucky rencontre. "It augurs well to see one whom the Lord hath blessed with all the creature-comforts of life, thus early aroused from sluggish sloth, and abroad, doubtless, on business of the faithful-minded?" Burrell made the best reply he could, without confirming or denying the inference drawn from his early rising. "Why tarried ye from the gathering of God's people on account of the Lady Cecil's funeral? I pray that the fleshpots of Egypt may not lure ye to perdition; or fine gold from Ophir, or the vain glories of sinful men, pilot ye unto destruction!" "It was business connected with the state--commands from his Highness's own lips, that detained me." "All praise to the Providence that has given his chosen people into such keeping as the Lord Oliver's! Truly may he be likened to the chariots and horsemen of Israel--to the blessed Zerubbabel, who restored the true worship, which the Jews in their blindness had cast from them; to Joshua, whom the Lord appointed as a scourge to the wicked Canaanites; to Moses, who gave both spiritual help and carnal food to those that needed; to Gideon; to Elijah; to David; to Hezekiah; to the most wise Solomon; to all the holy of the earth!" and, exhausted by the rapidity with which he had uttered the names of the kings and prophets of old, the worthy Jonas made a full stop; not with any intention of concluding his harangue, but to take breath for its continuation. As time, however, was exceedingly precious to Burrell, he endeavoured to give such a turn to the conversation, as would enable him to escape from the preacher's companionship; and therefore expressed a very deep regret that he had not been edified by the discourse which Mr. Fleetword so ably delivered, and inquired when and where it was likely he would next give his holy lessons, so that he might be comforted by the oil and honey that flowed from his lips. "Thou sayest truly," replied the energetic preacher; "truly sayest thou: oil and honey for the faithful, the holy, the just, in our New Jerusalem! But what, what for the unbelievers?--what for the wise in their own conceit?--what for the dwellers in Kedar? Even this--to them, my words signify bitterness, a scourge, a pestilence, an uprooting, and a scattering by the four winds of heaven! on them shall the seventh phial be poured out; for verily the Lord is weary of showing mercy to the backsliders from the congregation: they shall all perish--their limbs shall be broken asunder--yea, I will smite the uncircumcised Philistines--yea, I will smite----" "Even as did Sampson of old," interrupted Burrell--"even as Sampson of old smote them--with the jawbone of an ass." "Even so," replied Jonas, who, with all his bitterness, was nothing worse than a simple-minded enthusiast, and never imagined that Sir Willmott's words could convey aught than approbation of his zeal, and the right spirit that dwelt within him;--"even so; and it rejoiceth me to find thee apt and prompt in scriptural passages. Verily, I am glad of thy company; and as thou regrettest that the world's business prevented thy attendance on the lamented dead, I care not if I bestow this my present leisure unto thy edification, and repeat, nay, even enlarge upon, the words I then delivered; which exercise will be finished before mid-day--it is right that we labour unceasingly in the vineyard." So saying he drew from his bosom a clasped Bible, and, to Burrell's dismay, actually gave out the text, before he could resolve upon any plan to rid himself of the intruder, whom he heartily wished at Tophet, if not farther. "My worthy friend, I would postpone the instruction you would give until a more convenient season; I have urgent business to attend, and must hasten its performance." "Then will I gird up my loins, and accompany thee unto the very threshold of the house where thou wouldst enter; and as we walk, I can still convey the precious ointment of grace unto thy soul." "The merciless old scoundrel!" muttered Burrell between his teeth; then adding aloud, "Not so; your words are too costly to be given unto the winds; and I cannot tarry so as to drink in the full draught of satisfaction; let be, I pray you, and come down to Cecil Place to-night, or on the morrow, and then many can worship with thee." Fleetword paused, still holding the volume in his hand:--"Besides," continued Burrell, "what I have to accomplish is the Lord's work." "The Lord's work--the Lord's work!" repeated Fleetword,--"then go forth; why didst thou not confirm me that before? and I would have hastened, not retarded thee; for, of a verity, my outward man warreth with the inward, and these supporters of the flesh," pointing with his forefinger to the thin and meagre limbs that scarcely merited the compliment, "grow weary in well doing." Burrell needed not a second hint to hasten, but proceeded on his way, after receiving Fleetword's benediction with all due humility. The preacher remained some time on the spot, and his thin upright figure, seen from a distance, its outline so strongly marked against the cold grey morning sky, had a singular effect. Burrell had plunged into a dell or hollow, so that he was no longer visible. The bleak and unclothed landscape, from which the mist was slowly rolling; the few giant trees, that dwelling by the sea-side, and grown wise by experience, ventured not to put forth their leaves till the sun had chased the north wind to his caves; but, above all, the booming of the untranquillised ocean, might have chilled a heart within the warmest bosom; "Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood, With dauntless words and high," and looked as if he deemed the rolling clouds his listeners. It was by no means unusual for the preachers in those days to exercise their voices over the hills and heaths of their native land: valuing, as they did, power and strength far more than melody and grace, they endeavoured to acquire them by every possible means--nor were they without hope that, (to use their own language,) "the Almighty might bless the seed thus sown, seeing that it was hard to know who might not be within hearing of the precious word." Burrell soon gained the sea-shore, though he was still a considerable distance from Gull's Nest Crag. On arriving at a point that commanded an unbroken prospect of the far-spread sea, he shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked long and earnestly along the waste of waters. Apparently the scrutiny was unsuccessful, for he drew a telescope from beneath his cloak and gazed through it for some minutes, directing it towards several points. At length, with an impatience of manner in which, when with his inferiors or alone, he frequently indulged, he descended the cliff and pursued his way along the beach. As he drew near the little public-house, his ears were greeted by the sound of one of Waller's most popular songs, warbled in a voice so sweet, so pipe-like, that he paused, and looked round to ascertain from whence it proceeded. It ceased. Not even his keen eye could rest on aught resembling human form. He hallooed, but received no answer: yet had he not continued three steps on his way when the song was renewed, as he thought, directly over his head; notwithstanding the roaring of the waves, he even heard the words distinctly-- "Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired." Again he shouted, and a loud and elfin laugh, that danced with the echoes from crag to crag and billow to billow, was sent forth in reply. "Mermaid--Merman--or Demon! where be ye!" cried Burrell, loudly. "Even here, master mine," answered Robin Hays, shaking his large head, over a midway and partly detached portion of the cliff. "Come down, do, you will-o'-the-wisp! In Heaven's name what takes you into such breakneck places?" "The same matter that brings you here, sir," replied Robin, skipping and crawling alternately, suiting his motions to the inequality of the place: "the very same matter that brings you here--a woman." "How know you that, master prate-a-pace? At all events, you have no woman there." "Why, master, seeing you were born under the planet Venus, your whole trouble must be of her making; and, as to there being no woman up here, that matters nothing, for woman's fancy mounts higher than e'er a cliff in England; and to gain their favours we must humour their fancy. A certain damsel that I know, had a curiosity to see a peewit's eggs; so I thought I'd find her some, and here they are." From a pouch made of untanned leather, which hung in front like an apron, he took two small eggs of a greenish hue, spotted with black. "What a fool you are," exclaimed Burrell, "to risk your neck for such trumpery! It would be long ere you would risk it for your master." "I have known many hazard theirs for a less cause--and, to say the truth, there's a deal to be learned from the wild sea-birds," replied Robin, as if he had not heard the latter portion of the sentence; "I have a regard for the creeturs, which are like kings in the air. Many an hour have I sat up yonder, listening to the noises of earth and the noises of heaven, while the shrill note of the gull, the chatter of the guillemot, the heron's bitter scream, the hoarse croaking of the cormorant, have been all around me: and, indeed, the birds know me well enough. There's a pair of old gulls----" "Robin! I came not here to talk of cormorants and gulls; I want to ask you a question, and I expect an honest answer." Robin made the nearest approach to a bow he was ever guilty of. "Honesty, Robin, is a most valuable quality." "So it is, sir--and, like all valuables, ought to fetch a good price." "You should be a disciple of Manasseh Ben Israel! Why, you have hardly left my service two days, and then I had a right to your honesty. You are as bad as a Jew." "If so, I have surely a right to extort money from a Christian." "A truce to your jests, you ill-favoured loon: I want no man's labour for nothing--there are some broad pieces to stop your mouth; and now, when saw you Hugh Dalton?" "Not since I had the honour to wait upon you, sir, to London." "But he is off the coast." "Under favour, sir, that accounts for my not seeing him on it." "Scoundrel!" exclaimed Burrell fiercely; "no such mummery with me, or I'll soon put you upon salt-water rations. Dalton, I say, is off the coast; I would speak with him, I _must_ speak with him; and as I have good reason to know you telegraph each other, manage so that he meet me under the cavern:--do you understand, you sprat-spawn? Under the cavern; to-morrow night, at eleven; we can serve each other." Burrell, when he had retraced his steps about five yards, turned round and added, "You owe me amends for your base desertion the night before last, which I have not forgotten." Robin, cap in hand, watched his receding footsteps with an underlook; and then, attended by his faithful Crisp, repaired to the cottage, where a cannikin of porridge, seasoned by the hand of his mother with good spicery, and more than half composed of double-dub, awaited his arrival. CHAPTER VI. By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. SHAKSPEARE. There is nothing in England so variable as its climate. Before the succeeding night, the very remembrance of the storm seemed to have passed away from the placid waters, which now slept in the moonbeams as tranquilly as a cradled child; the sea-bird's scream no longer whistled through the air, and the small waves murmured their gentle music along the strand. Nature was hushed and happy; but the tranquillity of external objects had little effect upon the mind of Burrell, as he strode to his trysting with the bold Buccaneer. Yet were there no outward tokens that he apprehended aught from the meeting; for, excepting the sword, usually borne by persons of all ranks and professions during the dynasty of Oliver, he was completely unarmed. The place appointed was appropriately described as "Under the Cavern." It was known to Dalton's more intimate associates, and the Cavaliers, who had from time to time obtained security therein; but, if its bare, bleak walls had been gifted with speech, they might have rehearsed such tales of rapine and plunder as few writers would venture to record. The cavern appeared, to those who might wander along the sea-shore, to be but a deep and natural excavation into a huge rock, the western extremity of which ran out into the ocean, and therefore compelled the traveller to ascend a kind of artificial steps, in order to pass to the other side: the beach was, consequently, but little frequented, as leading to no necessary point, and as the inhabitants of the adjoining cottage, with which our readers are already familiar, had taken especial care to form several paths in various directions from its door, but none leading down to this part of the neighbouring cliffs, it was but rarely that the whiteness of the rocks was defaced by any foot save that of the daring bird from whom it received its name, and by whom it was regarded as his own natural and undisputed property. Whether the cavern into which we are about to enter was originally framed by some freak of Nature, or was the invention and subsequent accomplishment of art, we are unable to determine. Like many a structure better formed to endure for ages, it has been long swept away by the encroachments of the sea, which, since the period we write of, has been gradually gaining upon the land. Even at the present moment, there are old men dwelling in the neighbourhood who can remember houses and corn-fields where now a proud ship may ride at anchor. From time to time, without the slightest warning, some immense rock falls, and mingles with the ocean, which soon dashes aside every trace of its existence, leaving merely a new surface, to vanish in its turn under the influence of a power, silent and patient, but inevitable and unconquerable. Immediately as the moonlight was left behind, the cavern became high and arched, as if either Nature, or some skilful workman under her superintendence, had foreseen to what important purposes it might be applied. Huge masses of flint, and still larger fragments of granite, were scattered about as if by giant hands, yet without any seeming attention to order or regularity. The initiated, however, well knew that such was not the case. Burrell, immediately on entering, proceeded to the farther extremity, and kneeling, placed his mouth to the ground, and gave a loud sharp whistle: he then stood erect, at a little distance from the spot on which he had knelt. Presently what appeared a lump of grey stone, moved upwards, then aside, and the head and shoulders of a man from beneath sprang into its place so suddenly as to have appeared the work of magic. He leaned a little on one side, to permit Burrell to descend; and the next minute the cavern seemed as if no human step had ever disturbed its solitude. Six or eight rugged stairs brought the knight into a low but spacious apartment, from which there was no apparent exit except by an arched doorway, where the commencement of a spiral ascent was visible, leading almost perpendicularly into the secret room of the widow Hays' small hostelry, in which our acquaintance Jack Roupall and his friends had been concealed, and which, it may be here stated, served other purposes than to afford comfort and entertainment to the wayfarer. It may also be observed, that, if at any time the widow's house was suspected of harbouring dangerous or outlawed persons, and consequent search was made under its roof, those to whom concealment was either convenient or necessary had a ready sanctuary in the cavern beneath, where they might either tarry until assured of safety, or whence they could easily escape on board one of the free traders which rarely passed a week without a call of inquiry at some point along the coast. The cavern was, therefore, known to many, for many were they to whom it had been a shelter and a safeguard. Not so the inner temple (if we may so apply the term), to which Burrell now sought admission through a door with the nature of which only some half a dozen were acquainted. To them the secret had necessarily been confided, but under the most awful oaths of secrecy, and a terrible pledge that the life of him who might reveal it, was to be at all times, and in all places, at the disposal of any one of those who shared with him a knowledge so fearful. The door before which Burrell paused, was, in its way, a masterpiece of art: it consisted of a mass of clay and flint, so skilfully put together that the most acute searcher, even though he possessed the certainty of its existence somewhere, must have failed to discover it from among the natural lining of the rude but extensive cave. A low and gentle whistle was answered by a like signal, and the door was drawn gradually inwards, until sufficient space was afforded to permit Burrell to pass into a large space, but less raw and wild than that from which he had just entered. In one corner of this singular hall, rose a motley pile of musketry, rifles, hand-grenades, basket and cross-hilted swords, steel cuirasses, which, from their rude and sullied condition, appeared to have suffered much and hard service; buff and other coloured doublets, breast-plates, shoulder-belts with gilt and plain buckles; manacles, some rusty, others of glittering brightness: the muzzle of a small brass swivel projected from beneath a number of flags and emblems of various nations, rolled together with a degree of amity to which their former owners had long been strangers. Over these again were heaped cloaks, caps, feathers, and trappings, enough to form the stock wardrobe of a theatre. Nor were there wanting thumb-screws and other instruments of torture, often unsparingly exercised upon those who hid their treasure or retained secrets they were desired to betray. Near to this miscellaneous assemblage rose another heap, the base of which appeared to consist of some half score of elephants' teeth, rough hemp, fragments of huge cable, cable-yarn, and all manner of cordage; rolls of lewxerns', martrons', and leopard-skins; wolf-skins, "tawed and untawed;" girdles of silk, velvet, and leather; and on pegs, immediately over, hung half a dozen mantles of miniver, and some wide robings of the pure spotted ermine. Upon a huge sea-chest were heaped bales of costly Brabant, Overyssels, and other rare linens, mingled with French and Italian lawns of the finest texture; Turkish camlets, satins of China and Luca, plain and wrought, and many other expensive and highly-taxed articles. Delicious odours were diffused through the chamber from various cases of perfume, musk, ambergris, and the costly attar; while along the north wall were ranged different sized casks of Nantz brandy, Hollands, and Jamaica rum; giving to the whole the appearance of a vast storehouse. An enormous chafing-dish, filled with burning charcoal, stood near the centre, and in a deep iron pan was placed a keg of oil, a hole having been driven into its head, through which a sort of hempen wick had been introduced; it flared and blazed like an overgrown flambeau, throwing a warm and glowing light over the entire of the wild yet well-filled apartment. But the most singular portion of the garniture of this most singular cave consisted of a number of "Oliver's Acts," pinned or nailed against the walls. If Dalton had been Lord Chief Justice, he could not have displayed a more minute attention to the products of legal sittings than distinguished his private chamber: here was set forth on goodly parchment, "An Act for the Security of his Highness the Lord Protector, his Person, and Continuance of the Nation in Peace and Safety;" there, "An Act for Renouncing and Disannulling the pretended Title of Charles Stuart, &c. at the Parliament begun at Westminster the 17th day of September, anno Domini 1656," with the names "Henry Hills" and "John Field, Printers to his Highness the Lord Protector," in large letters at the bottom, together with divers others, chiefly however relating to the excise. Hugh Dalton rose from his seat, and laid his enormous pipe on a pile of ebony logs that answered the purpose of a table, when Sir Willmott Burrell saluted him with more civility than he usually bestowed upon inferiors: but, despite his outlawry, and the wild course his life had taken, there was a firm, bold, and manly bearing about the Buccaneer which might have overawed far stouter hearts than the heart of the master of Burrell. His vest was open, and his shirt-collar thrown back, so as to display to advantage the fine proportions of his chest and neck. His strongly-marked features had at all times an expression of fierceness which was barely redeemed from utter ferocity by a pleasant smile that usually played around a well-formed mouth; but when anger was uppermost, or passion was subdued by contempt, those who came within reach of his influence, more dreaded the rapid motion or the sarcastic curl of his lip, than the terrible flashing of eyes that were proverbial, even among the reckless and desperate men of whom he was the chief, in name, in courage, and in skill. His forehead was unusually broad: thick and bushy brows overhung the long lashes of his deeply-set eyes, around which there was a dark line, apparently less the effect of nature than of climate. The swarthy hue of his countenance was relieved by a red tinge on either cheek; but a second glance might have served to convince the gazer that it was the consequence of unchecked dissipation, not a token of ruddy health. Indeed, notwithstanding the fine and manly character of his form and countenance, both conveyed an idea of a mind ill at ease, of a conscience smitten by the past and apprehensive of the future, yet seeking consolation in the knowledge of good that had been effected, and of more that remained to be done. Years of crime had not altogether obliterated a natural kindness of heart; he appeared as one who had outraged society and its customs in a thousand forms, yet who knew there was that within him by which he was entitled to ask and expect a shelter within her sanctuary; and when a deep flush would pass over his features, and his blood grow chill at the recollection of atrocities at which the sufferers in a score of lands had shuddered as they talked, he endeavoured to still the voice that reproached him, by placing to the credit of his fearful account some matters to which we may hereafter more distinctly refer. It was before such a man that Burrell of Burrell now stood, and by whom he was addressed. "My piping-bird, good sir, told me you wanted me; and though somewhat inconvenient at this present time, here I am. Won't you sit? This is no lady's lounging-room; yet we can find seats, and costly ones too," he added, pushing a chest of spices towards his visitor. "Then, you were not at sea, Captain?" observed Burrell, seating himself, and unclasping his cloak. "I did not say so," replied the other, bringing his bushy brows more closely over his eyes, and glancing suspiciously upon the questioner. "Oh, no; I only imagined it." "Well, sir, I was not at sea, and I care not who knows it." "But, my worthy friend, we have been acquainted too long for you to fear my 'peaching aught concerning you or your doings." "And did I talk of fear?" inquired the Buccaneer, with a droll and yet bitter expression. "Well, if I did, I only follow, as Robin would say, the example of my betters, by talking about what I don't understand." "Vastly good, and true!--true as the----" "Needle to the pole; the finest simile in nature, Sir Willmott Burrell: you were fishing for a holy one, I saw, which is what these walls don't often hear, for we've no laggers nor warpes among us." "You've enlarged this room, and improved it much, Captain, since I last saw it." "Humph! ay, that was, I remember, when his Highness----" "Hush!" interrupted Burrell, changing colour, and looking round the room cautiously; "you must be very careful, Dalton, how you say any thing about----" "Ha! ha! ha! So you look for a troop of old Noll's Ironsides to bounce from under these packages in this good Isle of Shepey; or, mayhap, expect to see him start forth from behind his own Acts, which you perceive garnish my walls--the walls of my secret palace, so splendidly; but I may talk about his Highness, ay, and about the prisoners you escorted here, despite the loyal men of Kent, for me to ship to the Colonies--and--. But no matter, no matter; Noll knew I did it, for he knows every thing. Well, sir, you seem so alarmed, that I'm dumb as a sand-bank; only this, his Highness is far enough off to-night, and you need fear no other Olivers, for England will never see but one." "True, true--good Dalton!--but tell me, are you often on the French coast now?" "Yes, I'm grown old, and, though my little Fire-fly is still bright and beautiful, and her ivories as biting, her guns, sir, as musical as ever, yet I'm done with the Colonies; they ruin a man's morals and his health; but I do a little, just by way of amusement, or practice, with Flanders and France, and a run now and then to Lisbon." "How long is it since you've been to St. Vallery?" "Some time now; I was at Dieppe last month, and that is very near." "Dalton, you must make St. Vallery before this moon is out, and execute a little commission for me." "Very good, sir; we have never disputed about terms. What is it? any thing in the way of silks, or----" "It is flesh, human flesh, Dalton." "Ah!" exclaimed the Buccaneer, rising and recoiling from the knight. "I've had enough of that, and I'll have no more. Sir Willmott Burrell, you must seek out another man." "Now, Dalton," said Burrell, in his most insinuating tone, "you have not yet heard me, and I take it very unhandsome of an old friend like you to start off in such a manner without knowing why or wherefore. The matter is simply this--a girl, a silly girl, somehow or other got attached to me while I was in France. I have received letter upon letter, talking of her situation, and so forth, and threatening various things; amongst others, to come over here, unless--the idiot!--I acknowledge her as my wife. Now, you know, or perhaps you do not know, that I am betrothed to the daughter of Sir Robert Cecil; and, if I must enter into the holy state, why she is a maiden to be proud of. I have arranged it thus--written to my fair Zillah to get to St. Vallery by a particular day, the date of which I will give you, and told her that a vessel waits to convey her to England. You, Dalton, must guide that vessel, and----but you understand me; words between friends are needless." "The cargo for exportation; Barbadoes perhaps----" "Or----" And Burrell pointed with his finger downwards, though, when he raised his eye to encounter that of the Buccaneer, it was quickly withdrawn. "God, Burrell!" exclaimed Dalton, in a tone of abhorrence, "you are a greater villain than I took you for! Why can't you pay off the girl--send her somewhere--gild the crime?" "Gold is no object with her; she desires honour." The sympathetic chord of the Buccaneer's heart was touched, for the sentiment echoed his own. "Then who is she?" he demanded; "I'll not stir in it unless I know all." Burrell paused for a moment, and then said-- "You have heard of Manasseh Ben Israel, a rabbi, whom it hath pleased a great personage to distinguish with much kindness: nay, his mercy has gone so far as to contemplate receiving that unholy people into commune with us, giving them the right-hand of fellowship, and suffering them to taste of the waters----" "Spritsail and rigging!" interrupted the Buccaneer, whose enraged spirit sought some outlet, "No conventicle lingo here--you forget your company, Sir Willmott. What of the Jew?" "You know his highness has strangely favoured this man, and that he is much thought of. It is now more than six months since I was entrusted with a commission to Paris, and Ben Israel requested I would take charge of some packages he desired to forward to his daughter. She resided with a family whom I knew to be Polish Jews, but who conformed to the Catholic faith, and quieted the conscience of a certain cardinal by liberal offerings of silver and of gold. I discharged the commission in person, and must confess that the little black-eyed maid, seated as I first saw her, on crimson cushions of rich Genoa velvet, and nearly enveloped in a veil starred with precious gems, looked more like a houri than a woman. She pleased me mightily; and, as I had a good deal of time on my hands, I trifled it with her. This might have done well; we might have gone on pleasantly enough; but the creature was as jealous as a she-tiger, and as revengeful too. I made acquaintance with a blue-eyed Dane at the court, and--can you believe it?--she tracked my footsteps in disguise, and would have stabbed me to the heart, had I not wrenched the dagger from her little hand. She pretended to be sorry for it; and, though I never trusted her, our intimacy was renewed, until I was recalled. Particular necessities for money pressing upon me, I saw that no time was to be lost in fulfilling my contract with Sir Robert Cecil's daughter. My Jewess, however, thinks otherwise; declares she will follow me here; that if I do her not justice she will brave her father's anger, avow her intimacy with a Christian (which I believe they invariably punish by death), and forward, what she calls, proofs of my guilt to the Lord Protector. You perceive, Dalton, the creature is dangerous." "But what _can_ she forward to Oliver?" "Why, she was starch, and--you comprehend me--I was obliged to submit to a species of marriage ceremony; and there was a certificate and some letters. In short, Captain, knowing his highness's strictness--knowing his wish to conciliate this Ben Israel, and feeling the expediency of my immediate marriage--I tell you it would be certain destruction to suffer her to appear now." "Then I must ship her off, so that she may never return," observed the Buccaneer, with a fierce knitting of his brows. "Dalton, you know not what a devil she is: were she gentle, or a fond idiot, she could be managed; but she has the spirit, the foresight of a thousand women. Besides, I swore, when her hand was lifted against my life, that I would be revenged, and I never yet swore in vain." Dalton looked upon Burrell's really handsome features, contracted and withered by the pestilence of a demoniac spirit, and loathed him from his very soul. "I can't, Sir Willmott, I can't; flesh and blood must rise against the destruction of a loving woman. I won't, so help me God! and that's enough." "Very well--very well--but I'll have blood for blood, breach for breach, master; the Ironsides, Cromwell's tender pets, would have nice picking here. The Protector has already a scent of your whereabouts; he is one who neither slumbers nor sleeps. Let the bold Buccaneer look to it, and I'll straight seek some less _honest_ man to do my bidding." "Heave over such jargon," replied Dalton, upon whom Burrell's threats seemed to have made no impression. "Suppose you did betray me, how many days' purchase would your life be worth? Think ye there are no true hearts and brave, who would sacrifice their own lives to avenge the loss of mine? Avast, Master of Burrell! you are old enough to know better." "And you ought to know better than to sail against the wind. Why, man, the little Jewess is freighted with jewels; a very queen of diamonds. And I care not for them: you may keep them all--so----" The villain's lip faltered; he feared to speak of the deed his heart had planned. Dalton made no reply, but covered his face with his hand, leaning his elbow on the table. Burrell took advantage of his silence to urge the riches of the rabbi's daughter, the presents he himself would give, and wound up the discourse with protests loud and earnest of everlasting gratitude. Dalton let him speak on, but still maintained an inflexible silence. "'Sdeath, man!" exclaimed Burrell, hastily, after a pause of some minutes; "art asleep, or stupid?" "Neither," replied the Buccaneer. "But I will do your bidding. Now, write your directions,--here are pens, ink, paper, all that you require,--and my reward; write, sir, and then good night." Burrell did so, while Dalton paced up and down his den, as if meditating and arranging some action of importance. All matters being agreed upon, apparently to the satisfaction of both, they were about to separate, when Burrell inquired-- "Did you land any Cavaliers lately?" "Not I; they are but a bad freight; broad pieces are a scarce commodity with Charlie's friends." "Very strange. I met a braggart the other night, but I dare say he was one of the Syndercomb gang. His highness imagines you conveyed some of them to their head-quarters." "Does he?" "Master Dalton, you are close." "Master Burrell, I have agreed to do your business." "Well!" "I mean it to be well. Consequently, I have not agreed to tell you mine." Burrell looked daggers for a moment, and then turned off with a hasty step and a forced laugh. "Blasted be my hand for touching his in the way of amity!" exclaimed the Buccaneer, striking the table with a violence that echoed through the room. "The cold-blooded, remorseless villain! She is too good for such a sacrifice--I must be at work. And so, one infamy at a time is not enough for the sin-dealing land lubber; he wanted to worm out of me---- Robin! ahoy! Robin!" Dalton stepped to the outside of the still open door; and on the instant descended from the communicating stair leading to the Gull's Nest, not Robin, but him of the grey steed and black cloak, who was so near falling a victim to Burrell's treachery on a recent occasion. CHAPTER VII. For guilty states do ever bear The plagues about them which they have deserved; And, till those plagues do get above The mountain of our faults, and there do sit, We see them not. Thus, still we love The evil we do, until we suffer it. BEN JONSON. The Buccaneer welcomed the young man with greater warmth than is usually displayed, except to near and dear connections. It must be remembered, also, he had arrived at that period of life when feelings of affection and friendship stagnate somewhat in the veins, and curdle into apathy. Few are there who have numbered fifty winters without wondering what could have set their blood boiling and their hearts beating so warmly some few years before. A benison upon a smiling lip, a kindly eye, and a cheerful voice!--whether they belong to the young or to the old--may all such true graces be long preserved from the blight called "knowledge of the world!" which, while bestowing information with the one hand, takes away innocence and hope with the other.--But to the story. The young Cavalier greeted his associate more as a friend than a companion: there was evidently between them that good understanding which, arising from acquaintance with the better points of character, produces mutual esteem; and although there was a degree of deference paid to Hugh Dalton by the youth, it seemed a compliment to his age and experience, gracefully and naturally rendered, and kindly and thankfully received. It was obvious that Dalton so considered it; receiving attention far less as his due, than as a voluntary offering for which he desired to show his gratitude. There was, nevertheless, something of pity mingled with regard, which the youth manifested towards his chafed companion, as he took the seat that had been occupied by Burrell, and, laying his hand upon the powerful arm of the Buccaneer, inquired, in a touching and anxious tone, if aught had particularly disturbed him. "Walter, no--nothing very particular; for knavery and villany are seldom rare, and I have been long accustomed to treat with both; only it's too bad to have more unclean spirits than one's own harpying and haunting a man! God! I can breathe better now that fellow's gone. Ah, Master Walter! there be two sorts of villains in the world: one with a broad, bronzed face, a bold loud voice, a drinking look, and an unsheathed dagger--and him men avoid and point at, and children cling to their mother's skirts as he passes by:--the other is masked from top to toe;--his step is slow, his voice harmonised, his eye vigilant, but well-trained; he wears his dagger in his bosom, and crosses his hands thereon as if in piety, but it is, in truth, that his hold may be firm and his stab sure; yet the world know not that, and they trust him, and he is singled out as a pattern-man for youth to follow; and so--but we all play parts--all, all! And now for a stave of a song: Hurrah for the free trade!--a shout for the brave Buccaneers!--a pottle of sack!--and now, sir, I am myself again! The brimstone smell of that dark ruffian nearly overpowered me!" So saying, he passed his hand frequently over his brows, attempting at the same time to laugh away his visible emotion. "It will not do!" said the young man, whom Dalton had addressed by the name of Walter; "something has disturbed you: surely, Captain, I may ask what it is?" "Some forty years ago I had a father," replied the Buccaneer, looking earnestly in the youth's face; "he was an aged man then, for he did not marry until he was old, and my mother was beautiful, and quitted his side: but that does not matter; only it shows how, as my poor father had nothing else to love, he loved me with the full tenderness of a most affectionate nature. He was a clergyman too, and a firm royalist; one of those devoted royalists, as regarded both God and king, who would submit, for their sakes, to the stake or the block with rapture at being thought worthy to make the sacrifice. Well, I was wild and wilful, and even then would rather steal a thing than gain it by lawful means: not that I would have stolen aught to keep it, for I was generous enough; but I loved the danger and excitement of theft, and, on the occasion I speak of, I had taken some apples from a neighbouring tree belonging to a poor woman. It was evening when I took this unlucky fruit; and not knowing a safe place in which to deposit it, I was restless and disturbed all night. The next day, from a cause I could not guess at, my father would not suffer me to go out, and was perpetually, on some pretext or other, going to and from the cupboard where my treasure had been placed. I was in agony; and as night again closed in, the agitation and anxiety I had suffered made me ill and pale. My dear father drew near him the little oak table that was set apart for the Bible, and, opening it, said that he had that day composed a sermon for my especial case. I dreaded that my apple-stealing had been discovered; and I was right, though he did not say so. He enlarged in sweet and simple language upon his text: it was this--'There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked.' Walter! Walter! the old man has been many years in his grave, and I have been as many a reckless wanderer over the face of the wild earth and still wilder sea; but I have never done a deed of blood and plunder, that those words have not echoed--echoed in my ears, struck upon my heart like the fiend's curse. Yet," he added in a subdued accent, "it was no cursing lips pronounced them: I have been the curse to the holy words, not they to me." "I never before heard you speak of your father," observed the youth. "I do not like to speak of him; I ran off to sea when I was about ten years old, and when I came back he was dead. There was war enough in England at that time to occupy my active nature: I first joined the King's party, and had my share of wounds and glory at Gainsborough, where I fought with and saw poor Cavendish killed by that devil Cromwell. It was at that same battle his successes began: he had a brave horse-regiment there of his countrymen, most of them freeholders and freeholders' sons, who upon matter of conscience engaged in this quarrel under him. It was there he ousted us with his canting. Gadsooks! they went as regularly to their psalm-singing as they had been in a conventicle; and thus, d'ye see, being armed after their own fanatical fashion within, and without by the best iron armour, they stood as one man, firmly, and charged as one man, desperately.--But we have other things to talk of than him or me; so sit down, young gentleman, and let's hear the news;--or, stay, Robin must first bring us some wine--my warehouse is full of it; I must wash down the poison that fellow has crammed into my throat. Ah! ah! ah! what chafes me is, that, from my cursed reputation, greater villains than myself thrust me forward to do their work, and think they have a right to storm and stare if I have conscience in any thing. But I'll be even with them all yet--with one in particular. That villain!--shall that far greater villain have peace? 'There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked.'" He summoned Robin, who placed on the table some meat and wine, and other matters that supplied a pretty substantial supper: a ceremony, the rendering justice to which affords us sufficient leisure to examine the form and features of the young Cavalier, who, having laid aside his enormous cloak, reclined on some piles of foreign cloths with an ease and grace that belongs only to those of gentle blood. Amid the bustle and occupation of life, it is a simple matter for people of ordinary rank to assume the bearing of the well-bred; but repose is the true criterion of a gentleman or lady, inasmuch as there is then no motion to take off from an ungraceful attitude or an awkward mien. The features of the Cavalier were almost too high for beauty; and had it not been for a playful smile that frequently flitted across his countenance, elongating his moustache, softening and blending the hard lines that even at four-and-twenty had deepened into furrows, he would have been pronounced of severe aspect. Bright golden hair clustered in rich curls over his forehead, and fell a little on either cheek, giving a picturesque character to the form of the head. His eyes appeared of a dark grey; but they were so much sunk, so overshadowed by his forehead, as to leave one in doubt as to their exact colour. His figure was unusually tall and well-formed, and his whole bearing was more that of an accomplished gentleman than of a cut-and-slash cavalier: his manner was neither reckless nor daring, but it was firm and collected. His dress was composed of the finest black cloth, with a black velvet doublet; and his sword-hilt glittered with diamonds. Robin did not attempt to place himself at the same table, but sat back on a lower seat and at a little distance, sharing his repast with Crisp, who had scrambled down the stairs after his master, and looked ugly enough to be, what he certainly was, an extraordinary canine genius. Dalton and Walter laboured under no restraint because of the presence of Robin; on the contrary, he occasionally shared in the conversation, and his opinion upon various topics was frequently asked; indeed, he was fond of bestowing it gratuitously, and seemed highly pleased when called upon to express it. "Didst hear, Robin, when Blake was expected off Sheerness with the Spanish prizes?" "In a few days, it is said, he will either bring or send them; but my own thought is, that it will be about a week, neither more nor less, before any ship arrives." "I must get off for the French coast in a day or two," said Dalton; "and I do not care to return until Blake with his train go up the river a bit; for it's foul sailing athwart the brave old boy: he's the only man living I'd strike flag to." "And who has the care of the Firefly now you're ashore?" inquired the Cavalier. "Why, Jeromio." "I don't like him," said Robin bluntly: "foreigners are good slaves, but bad masters to us English: I'd rather trust the ship to little Spring." "He is a mere boy, and too bad a sailor; besides, he is grown so superstitious, swears the devil came to him one night I placed him a watch on yon cliff. I must leave him ashore with you, Robin, and tell you what to do with the scapegrace, if I am not back by a particular day. I must also give you a letter to take to Sir Robert Cecil, postponing an appointment I had made with him." "You had better give the letter to that gentleman," exclaimed Robin, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder to where the Cavalier sat; "he would do an errand to Cecil Place, especially if it were to the Lady Constance, right gladly." "Indeed!" exclaimed Dalton, fixing his quick eye on the youth's countenance, that betrayed uneasiness but not displeasure. "Sits the wind in that quarter? But tell us, Robin, how was it?" "There is nothing to tell, Captain," interrupted Walter, "except that Robin accompanied me to the Place, as it is called, to show me some alterations, and point out the excellent order in which the trees are kept; and in the grounds we encountered Mistress Cecil, and, as I am informed, the Lady Cromwell." "I wish you would keep close here though," muttered Dalton; "you'll be meeting the villain Burrell before----" "I would fain encounter Sir Willmott Burrell once again, and make him pay the traitor's forfeit." "Peace--peace! give Burrell rope enough to hang himself. He'll swing as high as Haman ere long. Robin told me of the coward's treachery." "I wish Robin had not accompanied him to London," exclaimed Walter; "I hate people to carry two faces. But my wonder is that Burrell would trust him." "Just because he could not help himself," retorted Robin. "He wanted a clever lad who had understanding. His own valet was in France on some business or another mighty mysterious; and a gentleman like him, who has a good character and a foul conscience, a good head and a bad heart, has need of a man of talent, not a loon, about his person. To do full justice, however, to his discretion, he treated me to as few of his secrets as he could, and I endeavoured to save him trouble by finding them all out." The Buccaneer laughed aloud, but the high-souled Cavalier looked serious. "Ah! ah!" said Dalton, "you never did relish machinations, and it is well you are not left to yourself in this plan of mine: honour is not the coin to take to a villain's market." "'Tis the only coin I will ever deal in, Captain; and I told you before I left Cologne, that on no other condition would I accompany you to England, except that of being held clear of every act unbefitting a gentleman or a soldier." "Young sir," replied Dalton, "when you were indeed young, and long before you took your degree in morality at the rambling court of the second Charles, did I ever counsel you to do aught that your--that, in short, you might not do with perfect honour? I know too well what it is to sacrifice honour to interest ever to wish you to make the trial. As for me, I am low enough in character----" "My kind preserver! my brave friend!" interrupted Walter, touched at his change of manner. "Forgive such unworthy, such unmerited suspicion. This is not the first time I have had to learn your kindly care for me. But for you----" "Well, there, there boy--I love to call you boy still; I can bear my own shame, but I could never bear yours." Dalton paused, apparently with a view to change the subject: the Cavalier observed-- "You quarrel with our young king's morality?" "I'faith, I do!--though you will say it's ill coming from me to fault any man's conduct; but I hate your little vices as much as your little virtues: sickly, puny goods and evils, that are too weak for sun to ripen, too low for blast to break, but which endure, the same withered, sapless things, to the death-day--Augh! a bold villain, or a real downright good man, for my money. How the devil can Charles Stuart do any thing great, or think of any thing great, with his mistresses and his dogs, his gaming and---- Why, it is hardly a year since I took off from Dover that poor Lucy Barton and her brat, after the poor thing suffering imprisonment in the Tower for his sake!" "The child's a noble child," said Walter; "but the mother's a sad reprobate, swears and drinks like a trooper." "My mother is a woman," exclaimed little Robin, with great gravity, poising a mutton-bone between his fingers, to arrive at which Crisp was making extraordinary efforts,--"and I can't deny that I've a sort of love, though it be a love without hope, for a very pretty girl, a woman also: now this being the case, I'm not fond of hearing women reflected on; for when they're young, they're the delight of our eyes; and when they're old, they're useful, though a trifle crabbed, but still useful; and a house without a woman would be like--like----" "Robin at fault!" said Dalton: "you've given me many a comparison, and now I'll lend you one--a bell without a clapper; won't that do, Robin?" Robin shook his head.--"Ay, Robin! Robin! you're right, after all. If it were not for a woman, I'd never set foot on shore again: but I'm proud of my little Barbara; and all the fine things you tell me of her, Robin, make me still prouder;--her mother all over. I often think how happy I shall be to call her daughter, when she won't be ashamed to own me: God help me!"--and be it noted that Dalton crossed himself as he spoke--"God help me! I often think that if ever I gain salvation, it will be through the prayers of that girl. Would that she had been brought up in her mother's way!" "What would old Noll say to that papistical sign, master?" inquired Robin. "A plague on you and old Noll too! I never get a bit up towards heaven, that something doesn't pull me back again." "I'll send you up in a moment," said Robin, in a kind voice. "Your daughter, Barbara----" "Ay, that it is, that it is," muttered the Buccaneer; "my own, own child!--the child of one who, I bless God, never lived to know that she wedded (for I wedded her in holy church, at Dominica) a wild and wicked rover. Our love was sudden and hot, as the sun under which we lived; and I never left her but once from the time we became one. I had arranged all, given up my ship and cargo,--and it was indeed a cargo of crimes--at least, I thought so then. It was before the civil wars; or I had again returned to England, or traded, no matter how. I flew to her dwelling, with a light heart and a light step. What there? My wife,--she who had hung so fondly round my neck and implored me not to leave her,--was stretched on a low bamboo bed--dead, sir--dead! I might have known it before I entered, had I but remembered that she knew my step on the smooth walk, fell it ever so lightly, and would have met me--but for death! And there too sat a black she-devil, stuffing my infant's mouth with their vile food. I believe the hag thought I was mad; for I caught the child in my arms, held it to my heart while I bent over my wife's body, and kissed her cold, unreturning--for the first time unreturning--lips; then flung myself out of the accursed place,--ran with my burden to the shipowners, who had parted with me most grudgingly,--and was scudding before the wind in less than twelve hours, more at war with my own species than ever, and panting for something to wreak my hatred on. At first I wished the infant dead, for I saw her pining away; but at last, when she came to know me, and lift up her innocent hands to my face--I may confess it here--many and many a night have I sat in my cabin looking on that sleeping child, till my eyes swam in a more bitter brine than was ever brewed in the Atlantic. Particular circumstances obliged me to part with her, and I have never regretted her being with poor Lady Cecil--only I should have liked her to pray as her mother did. Not that I suppose it will make any difference at the wind-up,--if," he added, doubtingly, "there be indeed any wind-up. Hugh Dalton will never be really himself till he can look that angel girl straight in the face, and ask her to pray for him, as her mother used." Dalton was too much affected to continue, and both his auditors respected his feelings too much to speak. At length he said, "But this gloom will never do. Come, Robin, give us a song, and let it not be one of your sad ones." Robin sung,-- "Now, while the night-wind loud and chill Unheeded raves around the door, Let us the wine-cup drain and fill, And welcome social joys once more-- The joys that still remain to cheer The gloomiest month of all the year, By our own fire side. "What need we care for frost and snow? Thus meeting--what have we to fear From frost and snow, or winds that blow? Such guests can find no entrance here. No coldness of the heart or air-- Our little world of twelve feet square, And our own fire-side. "I drink this pledge to thee and thine-- I fill this cup to thine and thee-- How long the summer sun might shine, Nor fill our souls with half the glee A merry winter's night can bring, To warm our hearts, while thus we sing By our own fire-side." The song, however, produced a contrary effect to that the Ranger had intended. It pictured a fancied scene--one to which both Walter and the Buccaneer had long been strangers; and a lengthened and painful pause succeeded to the brief moment of forced merriment. It was broken by the Cavalier, who inquired-- "How long will it be before you return from this new trip? for remember, my good friend, that suspense is a----" "Hell!" interrupted Dalton, in his usual intemperate manner: "but I cannot help it. It is not wise to pluck unripe fruit--do you understand me?" "Perfectly--and I dare say you are right; but tell me, Dalton, how is it that, till lately, you so completely abandoned this island, and kept to the Devon and Cornwall coasts? I should have thought this the most convenient; your storehouse here is so well arranged." "Ay, ay, sir; but this is over-near London, though it used to be a safe place enough; but now that Sir Michael Livesey--regicide that he is!--abides so continually at Little Shurland, what chance is there for any good to such as I? I tell ye, Cromwell's nose is ever on the scent." "A great advantage to him, and a disadvantage to his foes," said Robin: "he has only to put the said nose to the touch-hole of the biggest cannon, and off it goes; it never costs the army a farthing for matches when he's with it." "Pshaw, Robin! but is he indeed so red-nosed? You have often seen him, Captain." "Ay, dressed in a plain cloth suit, made by an ill country tailor; his linen coarse and unclean; his band unfashionable, and often spotted with blood; his hat without a band; his sword close to his side; his countenance swollen and reddish; and, as to his nose, it looked to me more purple than aught else. But, sir, to see Cromwell, see him in battle--he is a right noble horseman; and the beast (a black one especially he was once so fond of) seemed to have been tutored by the evil one: its eye was as vigilant as its rider's. Cromwell sits his saddle not gracefully, but firmly, just as if he were part and portion of the animal; then, with a sword in his right hand, and a pistol in his left---- Sir, it was unlike any thing I ever saw! He must have managed the horse by the pressure of his heel; for I never could make out, such was the decision yet rapidity of hism movements, whether he held reins or not: now here, now there--firing--preaching--shouting--praying--conquering--yet everything done in its right place and time, never suffering the excitement of the moment to bear down one of his resolves. Had he been born a king----" "He would never have been what he is," said the Cavalier; "for contention is the school of greatness." "It's mighty fine to see you two sit there," exclaimed Robin, "praising up that man in the high place: pretty Cavaliers indeed! Well, my opinion is, that--but indeed it is rude to give an opinion unasked, so I'll keep mine to myself. You were talking of the conveniences of this place; why, bless you, sir, it's nothing to fifty others along St. George's Channel. 'Twould do your heart good to see those our captain has among the Cornish rocks; such comfortable dwellings, where you could stow away twenty people, never to chirrup to the sun again; such hiding-holes, with neat little trains of gunpowder, winding like snakes in summer, so that, to prevent discovery, one crack of a good flint would send the caverns and the cliffs high into the air, to tell stories to the stars of the power of man's skill to destroy the most sublime as well as the most beautiful works of nature." "Robin, you ought to have been a preacher." "No," said Robin mournfully, and shaking his head, as was his custom, "for I know nothing of your book-holiness; only I can't bear anything moulded and made by the hand of God to be ruined by that of man." "What ails ye, lad?" inquired the Buccaneer; "I thought ye had got over all your shadows, as ye used to call them." "Not all of them; only they do not come upon me as often as they used," he replied gravely; for poor Robin had one time been subject to periodical fits that bordered on insanity, and during such afflictions wandered about the country, without seeking repose or speaking word to any one. Constance Cecil, with her usual kindness, had him frequently taken care of at Cecil Place; and Barbara's kind attention to him during such fearful trials was the source of as strong, as unvarying, and devoted an attachment as ever human being manifested towards another. By degrees the conversation sunk into low confidential whispers, as if caution, even there, was necessary. It was near four o'clock in the morning before the Buccaneer departed for his ship, and then Robin escorted the Cavalier to his usual chamber in the Gull's Nest. CHAPTER VIII. When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go free, Fishes that tipple in the deep Know no such liberty. LOVELACE. "A blessing and a salutation, reverend sir! and may the sun, moon, and stars be sanctified unto you!" "Ah! Solomon Grundy, would that the Lord had given thee sense to understand, as he hath bestowed upon thee talent to speak according to thy understanding! As it is, Solomon, I lament that thou art a fool, Solomon, a very fool, except in what regardeth the creature-comforts; and, of a verity, thou art worthy to send up a dinner even unto Hugh Peters, after he hath delivered a soul-converting oration before the chosen from among God's people." "Which refection he would in nowise condemn," observed the cook of Cecil Place, whose closely-cropped head of foxy hair seemed to throw a proportionate quantity of glowing colour upon his rubicund countenance. He had all the outward marks that indicate a _bon vivant_, and words of piety came as awkwardly from his lips as sighs from the mouth of a seal or a salmon. His little grey eyes twinkled with affection for the said "creature-comforts;" and the leathern pouch he now carried over his shoulder was stocked with sundry good things appropriated from the larder for his own especial diet. He had received permission from Mistress Cecil to accompany some of his neighbours to see the grand company from London visit a first-rate man-of-war that had just arrived off Sheerness, bringing in a train of prizes which the veteran Blake had taken and sent home, himself proceeding to Vera Cruz, and which it was rumoured the Lord Oliver was about to inspect in person. This intelligence set the country in a ferment, and persons of all classes hastened to the island to witness the sight. For the English _were_, as they now _are_, a sight-loving people, who find pleasure in pageants; and then, as at present, they demanded economy; but when economy came, they designated it meanness. The staunch Roundheads exulted at the idea of Cromwell's exhibiting himself thus openly after the upsetting of the Syndercomb plot; and the Royalists, depressed and disappointed, were content to let matters take their course, at least until they saw some prospect of a change; while the Levellers, the party most dreaded by the Protector, and which had been most fatal to the Stuarts, remained in that dangerous state of repose that is but the preparative for renewed activity. The Reverend Jonas Fleetword had set forth from the sole desire of "beholding him who was anointed with the oil of the Spirit, and whose name among the nations was wonderful." Solomon Grundy, and such other of the servants of Cecil Place as could be spared, were impelled forward by the wish of hearing or of seeing something new; intelligence not travelling upon wings of steam in the seventeenth century, and newspapers being but rare visiters at Shepey. Occasionally, indeed, there did descend from the breakfast-room of Sir Robert, unto the servants' hall, a stray number or two of the "Mercurius Politicus," the "Perfect Diurnal," or the "Parliament Scout;" the contents of which were eagerly devoured by the several auditors, while one, more gifted than his fellows, drawled forth, amid ejaculations and thanks unto the Lord, the doings of the Commonwealth, and especially of him who was a master in the new Israel. But the information of the underlings of the house was generally gathered from the pious pedlars, who sought entrance at the gate, well stocked with wares of every possible description, and with "gifts" of which they were always abundantly lavish to those who hungered or were athirst. The ladies of the family remained at home; the Lady Frances feeling assured that her father would not be present, as she had received no intimation to such effect from Whitehall. Constance, however, had heard too many tales of Oliver's sudden movements to feel satisfied as to the certainty of any matter in which he was concerned. It was no secret either that he had been displeased with his daughter for her obstinate attachment to Mr. Rich; and that he desired her, for the present, to remain in retirement and away from court. We have said that Solomon Grundy had received permission to view the sight; and for a time he proceeded on his way, accompanied by the other domestics; but, under some sly pretext, he lingered behind them. The worthy preacher had not left Cecil Place so early, but, notwithstanding the ambling pace of his favourite jennet, he soon came up to Solomon, who, seated under a spreading elm by the wayside, was rapidly demolishing the contents of his wallet, freshened by frequent draughts from a black bottle of vast rotundity. "Master Solomon Grundy," he observed, reining up his steed, "could not your stomach tarry, even for a short while? Ah! worthy cook, you have a most professional longing after the flesh-pots." Solomon grinned, and applied himself with renewed diligence to his viands when the preacher had passed. He was now surrounded by a motley party, who had crossed from the main land, all bearing towards the same point. Puritans, whose cloaks were of the most formal cut, and whose hats emulated the steeple of St. Paul's; Levellers, with firm steps, wrinkled and over-hanging brows, and hard unchanging features, all denoting inflexibility of purpose and decision of character; Cavaliers, whose jaunty gait was sobered, and whose fashionable attire was curtailed in consideration that such bravery would be noticed and reproved by the powers that were; women attired in dark hoods and sad-coloured kirtles; some of demure aspect, others with laughing eyes and dimpled cheeks, who exchanged glances, and sometimes words, with youths of serious apparel but joyous countenances; while here and there might be recognised divines, whose iron physiognomies disdained to be affected by any of the usual feelings that flesh is heir to; and ladies on horseback, or in the lumbering heavy carriages, progressing from the horse ferry, "with stealthy pace and slow," towards the centre of attraction. The English even now make a business of enjoyment; but in those days, what we designate pleasure, was known by no such unholy term; it was called "recreation," "the refreshment of the creature," "the repose of the flesh,"--by any name, in fact, except the true one. But in the particular instance to which we refer, it was considered a sacred duty to uphold and applaud the Lord Protector whenever there occurred an opportunity for so doing; and sound-hearted Puritans would make a pilgrimage for the purpose with as much zeal as ever Roman Catholics evinced in visiting the shrine of some holy saint. The ships rode proudly in the harbour, and groups of the gentry were occasionally conveyed on board by boats, that waited for the purpose both at Queenborough and Sheerness. It was an animated scene, but the soul of all was wanting, for neither Cromwell, nor any portion of the court, made their appearance. When it was noon, the people hoped he would arrive ere evening; but, as the evening advanced, and he failed to enter upon the scene, there was a general manifestation of disappointment throughout the crowd, although some few rejoiced at the occurrence, holding it a sign of fear on his part, as if he dreaded to be seen among them. A party, consisting of ten or twelve persons, at Queenborough, had gathered round the trunk of a withered and hollow oak, growing in front of a public-house, that displayed the head of the Lord Protector--a political lure, that was certain to attract all Commonwealth people to the receipt of custom. The noble tree had been one of magnificent growth, but age or accident had severed the trunk, and within its heart decay had long been revelling. It was now perfectly hollow, and afforded a free passage; two enormous props had been found necessary, to prevent its making a last resting-place of the earth it had for ages triumphantly protected. The cavity that time had created was sufficiently extensive to afford shelter during a storm to three or four persons; and it was not unfrequently resorted to by the people of the inn, as a storehouse for fuel, or farming utensils, when a plentiful harvest rewarded the toil of the husbandman. Its branches, which had so often sheltered the wayfarer alike from the tempest and the hot summer's sun, had been hewn away, to serve the purposes of strife in the shape of spear-handles, or to the doom of the winter fire; one solitary arm of the blighted tree alone remained, extending its scraggy and shattered remnants to a considerable distance over the greensward which had been, from time immemorial, trodden by the merry morrice dancers, and broken by the curvetting of the hobby-horse and the Dragon of Wantley, sports it was now deemed sinful but to name. From a fragment of this dilapidated branch, hung the sign of mine host of the Oliver's Head; and right glad would he have been, if rumour had lied with each returning morn, so that the lie could but fill his dwelling with so many profitable guests. Thrice had the party, by whom had been appropriated the seat beneath the oak, emptied the black jack of its double-dub ale; and the call for a fourth replenishing was speedily answered, as the sun was setting over the ocean, and tinging the sails and masts of the distant vessels with hues that might have shamed the ruby and the sapphire. "To have our day go for nothing, after a trudge of some twenty miles, to this out-of-the-way place,--Adad, sirs, it's no joke!" exclaimed a sturdy, bluff-looking man, to our friend little Robin Hays, who sat upon the corner of the bench, one leg tucked under (doubtless for the purpose of enabling him to sit higher than nature had intended,) while the other swung methodically backward and forward: "Adad, sir, it's no joke!" he repeated. "No more it isn't, Master Grimstone; I never heard you joke yet," said Robin. "And I aver it is an open and avowed doubting of God's providence," chimed in the cook. "What! what!" exclaimed six or eight voices: "what do you mean by such blasphemy, Solomon Grundy? A forfeit and a fine!" "Peace, silly brawlers!" returned he of the kitchen, who had discussed the good things thereof, until he had no room for more, and who had also quaffed largely of the forbidden beverage called 'strong waters;'--"I say peace, silly brawlers! I repeat it _is_ an open and avowed doubting of Providence, that we should come thus far, and see nothing but a parcel of people--parcel of sky--parcel of water--parcel of ships--parcel----" "Of fools!" grinned little Robin, pointing at the same time towards the oratorical cook, who so little relished the compliment, as to elevate the polished remnant of a mutton shoulder-blade, and aim a well-directed blow at the manikin, which he avoided only by springing with great agility through the aperture in the tree, so as to alight at some distance on the other side of the hollow trunk. This harlequinade excited much boisterous laughter among the crowd; and no one joined in it more mirthfully than young Springall, who, for some reason known best to Hugh Dalton, yet sanctioned by Sir Robert Cecil, had spent the last few days in the kitchens and buttery of Cecil Place. There was another youth of the same party, who perchance enjoyed the merriment, but who looked as if he could have still more enjoyed melancholy. He was seated next to Springall, on the rude bench; and the boy-sailor treated him with such marks of attention, as manifested that he regarded him more in the light of a superior, than as an equal. The stranger, however, remained with his hat so much slouched over his face, that his features were in complete shadow, while his cloak was muffled over the lower part of his countenance. "I say, Robin," exclaimed Springall, "come out of your shell; you have remained there long enough to tell over a dozen creeds or paters, were they in fashion--Come out, are you bewitched? Robin the Ranger, I say, come forth, and give us a taste of your calling--a melody--a melody! But you should hear our Jeromio sing his lingo songs some night astern: and though I do hate that cunning rascal, yet, my eyes! how he does sing!" "Singing," observed Solomon Grundy, whose potations had wonderfully increased his piety, "singing is an invention of the beast's, yea, of the horned beast's, of him who knoweth not a turtle from a turtle-dove, but would incontinently stew them in the same caldron, over brimstone and pitch; therefore shall my voice bubble and boil over against such iniquities--yea, and my tongue shall be uplifted against them, even in the land of Ham!" "Go to sleep, Solomon, and you, youngster, give us a song yourself," growled Grimstone, who had all the outward bearing of a savage; "the evening is nigh closing, and the birds are gone to their nests. Nevertheless, the song must be right proper: so tune up, tune up, my boy!" Springall, with due modesty, replied, "I could sing you sea songs, and land songs, but these I leave to Robin Hays, who beats me hollow. The clerk of our ship has translated one of Jeromio's lilts, so I'll tip you a bit of sentiment. "O'er the clear quiet waters My gondola glides, And gently it wakens The slumbering tides. All nature is smiling, Beneath and above; While earth and while heaven Are breathing of love! "In vain are they breathing Earth, heaven--to me, Though their beauty and calmness Are whispers of thee: For the bright sky must darken, The earth must be grey, Ere the deep gloom that saddens My soul, pass away. "But see, the last day-beam Grows pale, ere it die; And the dark clouds are passing All over the sky. I hear thy light footstep, Thy fair form I see; Ah! the twilight has told thee Who watches for thee." Towards the latter part of the ditty, which was but little relished by the company, it was evident that Solomon had followed Grimstone's advice, for his snoring formed a loud and most inharmonious bass to the sweet boy-like melody of Springall's ballad. Robin had rejoined the party, but his face and lips were of a livid paleness, and he seemed labouring under evident distress. "Art hurt, Robin?" inquired the stranger, who is known to us by the name of Walter, now speaking for the first time. Robin shook his matted head in reply. "Something ails thee, man; something must ail thee--speak, good Robin." "I'm neither sick, sad, nor sorry," he answered, affecting his usual easy manner; "so here's a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether at the black jack, to the health--But pardon, I had forgotten the wickedness of such profane customs." Yet Robin evidently did not hold it profane to "swill the brown bowl" so eagerly, that but the lees remained at the bottom, as he laid it down, refreshed and strengthened. "So you won't give us a toast, Master Robin," said Springall; "well, I'll not only give ye a toast, but I'll stand the price of a fresh jack of double-dub for you all to drink it in; and I'll fight any man that says it nay, besides." "Hold your profaneness!" exclaimed Robin, with a solemnity so opposed to his actual character as to be absolutely ludicrous: "Springall, thou hast had too much already; let us depart in peace." "A curse on me if I do--peace me no peace." "I tell you what," interrupted Robin, with resolute spitefulness, "if you swear, I'll lodge information against you." "Ah! ah! ah!" shouted several of the party, "Robin Hays turned preacher! Old Noll has sent the breath of holiness before him to supply his place, and made a sudden convert of the Ranger!" "I entreat you most meekly to be silent; if not for my sake, for your own. My brethren, you know not----" "That here comes the black jack," interrupted Springall; "and here's to the health--But Cavaliers----" "We are _not_ Cavaliers," interrupted Robin, in his turn; "as I hope for mercy, we are not Cavaliers:--hard--honest--pains-taking Commonwealth citizens are we; but not, I say not," and he elevated his voice to its highest pitch, "not Cavaliers." "The devil's in the cards, and knaves are trumps," exclaimed Springall; "nevertheless I'll have my toast, and here it is.--Come, up standing,--'The fairest maid in Shepey, Barbara Iverk! and may she soon be a wife'----" "To whom?" inquired Robin bitterly. "To whoever can win and wear her," replied Springall. "Come, come, Master Bob, you're mazed by some devilry or other; the wind's in your teeth; you've been sailing against a norwester, or have met with a witch on a broomstick the other side of this old oak: Serves an oak right to wither up--why wasn't it made into a ship? But here's to Barbara Iverk, the fair maid of Shepey!" "The fair maid of Shepey!" repeated Grimstone, after drinking the toast. "That title ought to be given to the mistress, not the maid; and I care not if I wind up the evening with a cup of Canary to the health of Lady Constance----" "Peace, sir!" exclaimed the stranger, who had heretofore taken no note of their rioting: "I shall offer chastisement to any man who profanes that Lady's name at a vulgar revel." "Adad! and adad, young sir, ye're a game one! What's in any woman, that a man can't name her? Flesh is flesh! and as to distinctions--we are all members of a Commonwealth! so I say a stoup of Canary to the Lady----" "By holy Paul! if that Lady's name passes your unworthy lips, my good rapier shall pass straight through your unhallowed carcase!" exclaimed the Cavalier fiercely, at the same time throwing back his cloak, and drawing his sword more than half out of his scabbard. "Hey ho! two can play at that: I never eat my words; so, the sword in one hand, and the Canary in the other--to the health of----" His mouth was stopped by the application of the palm of Robin's broad hand to his unclosed lips; while he whispered some words into his ear, that had the magical effect of restoring the weapon to its sheath, and of inducing the braggart to resume the seat he had so hastily abandoned, grumbling, in an under tone, words that fell indistinctly upon the ear of his opposer. "Let us home; it is a long and a dreary road to Cecil Place, and the night is upon us already! so up, good Solomon. Here, landlord! this fatted calf is unable to move: give him house-room till to-morrow; and mind you put him on his way in time for the dinner-hour," was Robin's parting speech. He then exchanged rough, but kindly salutations, with his boon companions; and soon the trio--Walter, Springall, and Robin had taken a by-path, leading to the part of the island in which Cecil Place was situated. CHAPTER IX. His rude assault, and rugged handëling Straunge seemed to the knight, that aye with foe In faire defence, and goodly menaging Of arms, was wont to fight.--_The Faerie Queene._ The three young men pursued their way; at first laughing and chatting merrily upon the events of the morning; but gradually becoming more and more silent, as persons usually do when the first flush of revelling is over. The taller of the three, who has of course been recognised as the mysterious visiter at Lady Cecil's funeral and in the cave of the Buccaneer, although he bore himself towards them with all the courtesy of a true-born gentleman, received the deference of his more humble associates only as his due, and in a manner that showed he had been accustomed to more than merely respectful treatment. After traversing much low and marshy ground, they suddenly reached a spot where the road divided, the one path leading to Cecil Place, the other to Gull's Nest crag. "Come with me, Robin; unless, indeed, the master wishes your company. I ask his pardon for not thinking of that afore," said Springall. "Not I, good Springall," replied the gentleman. "I think you need a guide, for you walk the quarter-deck better than the dry land; and, if I mistake not, there are sundry pit-falls in the way to your present home. I know my path; and, besides, am a regular land-lubber." "Save and bless your honour!" exclaimed the young sailor, holding all land-lubbers in thorough contempt: "that ye're not: land-lubber, indeed! I'll be at the Nest to-morrow early--if----" "Hush!" said the more careful Robin, "never speak words of secret, openly--See ye yonder?" "Yes," replied Springall, "two horsemen on the other road; too far off to hear my words, unless they had the ears of a hare." "I had better go with you, sir," observed Robin earnestly: "I will go with you, that's the truth of it. Good night, Spring--steer to the left till you come to the red gap; after that, along the stone fence, on the right; it will lead you to the orchard, then you know your way." "Why did you not go with him?" inquired the Cavalier, kindly; "it is a dark night, poor boy, he has small skill in land-steering." "He must learn, sir, as I do," answered Robin; "and my duty calls me to attend on you, particularly when strange people are a-stir." "You are to be my champion, Robin?" "Your servant, sir. A servant who learned his duty before it was the fashion for servants to forget what they owe their masters. Alack! alack! service now, like liberty, is but a name, and servants do as they please." "Did you so with the Master of Burrell?" "But indifferently, sir; I fled, in a very servant-like manner, as you know, when he was in danger. But I had my reasons for it, as well as for going with him to London; only I'd rather not talk of that to-night, sir. It is a mortal pity that such a sweet lady as Mistress Constance should be forced to marry such a brute; for my part, I never could discover any wisdom in those contracts, as they call them. Ah, little Barbara is a discreet girl. But I have heard some one say, that, for all her fine lands, poor lady, her heart is breaking, and chipping away bit by bit. 'Tis very fine to be rich, but, being rich, very hard to be happy, because the troubles we make ourselves are less easy to be borne, than those that come upon us in the course of nature. If I had my wish, it is not gold I'd ask for." "Indeed! What then, Robin?" "Just enough of beauty to win one woman's heart; I think I have wit enough to keep it." "Pshaw, Robin! though you may not be very comely, there are many worse." "Ay, sir, apes and baboons; but they are like their kind--while I am a poor withered creature, that Nature, in spite, threw from her, coarse and unfinished." "I wonder a person of your sense, Robin, should fret at such trifles. Remember, beauty is as summer fruits, easy to corrupt, and quick to perish." "But for all that we look for them in summer, sir, just as youth seeks out beauty." The stranger turned towards Robin, but made no reply; it is sometimes given to the simple to disconcert the wise, and that alone by their simplicity. A long silence followed; each ruminating on his own prospects and projects: it was at length broken by Walter, who abruptly asked if Robin was sure he had taken the right path. "Mercy, sir, am I sure of the sight of my eyes! Behind that tree runs the road we must cross, and then on to Stony Gap! Ah, many's the signal I've hung out for the Fire-fly from that same spot; but, if perilous times are past, and we live in days--as Master Fleetword hath it--of peace, poor Hugh's trade will be soon over. I wish he were back--the coast looks lonesome without him." "So it does, Robin; but canst tell me what it was that made you look so dull, and astonishingly religious after the hop, step, and jump you took through the hollow oak?" "Ah, master!" "Well, Robin----" "Why, you see, when I sprang through, 'thinking of nothing at all,' as the song says, I found myself on the opposite side of the tree, close--as close as I am to you, or nearly so--to----" As Robin had proceeded thus far with his recital, a sudden turn brought them to the high road, which led into a kind of hollow, flanked on either side by close brushwood. About a hundred yards from where they stood, three men were engaged in violent feud. The scene, at such a moment, and in such a place, seemed produced by the wave of a magician's wand. The Cavalier rubbed his eyes, as if to be assured of its reality; while Robin stood aghast, bewildered, and uncertain how to act:--the moon was shining in all its brightness, so that they could see as clearly as at noon-day. "By heaven, 'tis two to one!" exclaimed the youth, casting off his cloak, and unsheathing his rapier with the rapidity of lightning. "So it is!" gasped Robin; "but two to such a one! Save us, sir! you're not going to draw sword for him--?" But ere the sentence was concluded, his companion was in the thick of the fray. "Oh!" exclaimed Robin, as in agony, "that I should live to see true blood stirred in such a cause!--How he lays about him! Poor boy, he little knows who's who! What a noble thrust! hand to hand--how their swords glitter!--A murrain on my shrivelled carcase! they would but laugh to see me among them! O that I could be even with Nature, and hate her as she has hated me! Yet, to be thus without a weapon!--Ah! one murderer's down, and the arch-fiend with him--now are they entwined as with the coil of deadly serpents. Treacherous dog! the other would take advantage; but, ah! well done, gallant young gentleman!--he holds him back with most wonderful strength--And now--see, see--the combatants are separated--one stands over the other! Oh God! oh God! how he stabs!--hold! hold! Now, could the moon show through those deadly wounds, twenty at the least count; and only one such would let the life from out Goliath, or the strongest man in Gath.--But see, the other shows a fleet foot; and that silly boy flies after him! Alack! that he will not learn discretion! There they go, across the fields, and not towards the ferry." When Robin arrived at this point in his comments, the man whose life had most probably been saved by the young Cavalier's interposition, called to him to come forward,--a summons the manikin obeyed at first but slowly: a second call, however, urged his alacrity; and he stood before one of whom he was evidently in much dread, with a bent head and a tremulous frame. "Canst tell aught of that vile clay, whom the Lord hath delivered into my hand?" he said, pointing to the lifeless corpse, while his chest still heaved from the violence of the exertion he had undergone, although in other respects he appeared as composed as if he had gone forth only to enjoy the sweet breath of evening, and a ruder breeze than he anticipated had passed across his brow. Robin stooped to examine the distorted features of the dead, smeared as they were by the warm blood that issued from more than one mortal wound. "He was one of thy party but three hours past," continued the stranger, speaking with energy and rapidity, "and thou knew'st him; heard I not his words beneath the oak? Ay, and if it had been left unto thee, verily I might have been given over to the destroyer, even as Hoshea was given unto Shalmaneser. Speak, thou deformity, lest, finding thy mind as base as its casket, I let it forth from its vile dwelling, even as a thing of nought." "'Tis poor Grimstone," exclaimed Robin, rising from his scrutiny, and evidently affected by the loss of his boon companion on more occasions than one; "he was ever after some devilry--but his attack upon such as you----" "Silence, sir. Did I not before intimate my wishes?" "Well, then," muttered Robin, "his attack must have been purely a matter of plunder. Grim. was never ambitious--never looked beyond a purse of broad pieces;" adding in a lower tone, "he was always a fool." "The carrion hath fallen in a pleasant place--so let the next comer look to it, and do thou fetch hither my horse. Had it not been that my saddle-girth gave way, I could have mastered twenty such footpads." This was said in the tone of one who, however grateful for assistance, would have been much better pleased to have found it needless, and to have worked out the victory by his own hands. Robin hurried to secure the animal, a well-trained war-horse, which had stood quietly in the centre of the road, calmly awaiting the issue of the combat: he observed that the saddle was turned completely round, and hung under the belly. The horseman adjusted his cloak, wiped his sword with the square cape, and had just replaced it in the scabbard, when the Cavalier returned from his fruitless chase. As he advanced towards the person to whom he had rendered such signal service, he noted that he was a hale, stout man, probably past the meridian of life, of a stern and awe-striking presence; and an involuntary feeling of respect made him lift his hat from his head, and even remain uncovered while expressing hopes "that he had received no injury from the cowards who had thus beset his path." The other gave no reply to the inquiry, but fixed a shrewd and penetrating gaze upon the young man's countenance. Apparently the scrutiny pleased him, for he extended his hand, and seizing that of his preserver, held it firmly within his palm for about the space of a minute, then pressed it within his mailed grasp so strenuously, that the youth felt the blood tingle to his finger-ends. "I owe thanks and gratitude, and would fain know to whom: your name, young sir?" The Cavalier paused for a moment, and then said,-- "You may call me De Guerre--Walter De Guerre." "Walter De Guerre!--an English Christian wedded to a French surname!--'tis strange, but let it pass, let it pass: you have been an instrument in the gracious preserving of one who, though unworthy, is of some account; and instruments in the Lord's hand must be regarded. My companions had business in this neighbourhood, and had left me but a little time, when I was set upon by these cowards; but God is merciful, and inspired you with valour. And now, sir, whither wend ye? To Cecil Place?" "No, sir," replied De Guerre, pondering what he should answer, or how he should designate his present abode. "To the worshipful sheriff, Sir Michael Livesey, at Little Shurland? He must look to his ferry-warden and boatmen to prevent such villainies as have now occurred." "To none of these, sir," replied Walter; "in fact, I am a humble traveller, lodging at a humble hostelry not far from hence." During this dialogue, Robin had adjusted the saddle-girth, and led the horse to its master, who took the bridle from his hand, and held it, examining the girth as he spoke. Robin glided imperceptibly round to De Guerre's side, and standing behind him, pulled his sleeve, and whispered,-- "Don't tell him where." The intimation was, perhaps, not heard, certainly not heeded, for the young man added,-- "At the widow Hays'." "I bethink me; the house near East Church. It is called Nest--Nest--Nest--ay, Gull's Nest. 'Tis but a poor abode for one who bears a diamond-hilted sword, and bears it bravely too. An every-day person, Master De Guerre, would sell the diamonds and get a gayer lodging." "Persons differ in this and all other matters, more or less," replied the young man somewhat haughtily: "I wish you good night, sir." "Hot!" said the stranger, at the same time laying his hand upon the arm of De Guerre: "Hot and high! Well, it is an ill tree that needs no pruning; but the preserver and the preserved must not part thus. Come with me to Cecil Place, and though I have it not to offer golden recompense, yet I can assure to you a glad welcome; for my friends all love each other." "Go with him, go with him; never say him nay: why should you not go when he desires it?" whispered Robin. "But you are mounted, and well too, and I a-foot, and cannot pace it with you," replied De Guerre, hesitatingly. "And your grey steed is too far away--even for that nimble squire to bring in good time," retorted the other, a kind of smile distending the rugged and untrimmed moustache that garnished his upper lip. "My grey steed!" repeated Walter in astonishment. "Yes, and a stout beast it is. But I will rein in my horse, and the Place is not so distant but we may keep together." "Thanks for your proffered hospitality," said De Guerre; "but must we not do something with the fellow you have slain? His companion was too swift o'foot for me." "Let the tree lie even where it fell," replied the other, looking on the body for an instant, and then mounting his horse with the greatest composure; "some one will cover it with decent earth in the morning: let us forward, my young friend." De Guerre signified his consent, and walked, closely followed by Robin, at the stranger's side. "And so," observed the horseman, turning to the Ranger, "you are accompanying us, uninvited, on our way. Wert thou ever engaged in any of the mummeries of Satan, denominated stage plays? Of all the tricks learned at courts, that of _tumbling_ is the most dangerous; and as thy master, Sir Willmott Burrell, has not practised it yet, I am at a loss to understand how thou couldst be so perfect." "I have served many masters, sir, and am now out of employ," replied Robin, whose ready wit appeared to have deserted him, and who kept as near as possible to De Guerre. "Thou sayest truly; and lest one of them may have a demand upon thee ere morning, what say ye to wending onward to that unholy resort of cavaliers and smugglers, called the Gull's Nest, and leaving us to pursue our course unattended to Sir Robert Cecil?" Robin bowed as respectfully as he could, and was about to whisper some words to De Guerre, when the stranger added, in a stern voice,-- "On, on! no whispering." Robin held up his hands, as if he would have said, "How can I help it?" and sprang over the adjoining fence with his usual agility. They proceeded some little time without speaking, De Guerre, discontented with himself at the power his extraordinary companion so strangely possessed over him, yet yielding to an influence against which he felt it impossible to contend. "And pray, sir," at length inquired the elder, "what news may be now stirring in France? You have, I presume, but recently arrived from thence?" "I have been in France, but not lately." "In the Netherlands, then? for I take it you are given to the carnal follies of the times, and have been cherished in the heresies, religious and political, propagated by a person or persons assuming a particular rank, which the Almighty saw fitting to wrest from them now many days past." "I have not, as I think, been brought up in any heresy," replied the youth, gently but firmly, "and I should be sorry so brave a gentleman and so expert a swordsman thought so: though I do not feel myself bound to give you any information touching my private opinions, which I hold to be as distinctly my own property as my hat or sword----" "And which," said the stranger, "is, perhaps, the only property you are possessed of." "Exactly so, sir; but persons of a lower estate than mine have lately risen to high places,--ay, and carry themselves as loftily as if they were born to lord it over not only empire, but empires." "Ah! true: then, I suppose, you would fain seek service; and if so, I think my poor word would be of use. I am somewhat esteemed by the Protector and other props of this great Commonwealth, and would gladly tender my aid to you, to whom I am already strongly bound." "I thank you for your bounty, sir; but at present I feel inclined to sheathe, not draw my sword." "But why? A youth like you, gifted with courage, skill, and health,--the state demands some activity at your hands; 'tis ill to be a laggard." "Nor am I one. Frankly, I like not innovation, and this state has been experimentalising lately:--in a word, I like it not." "That is a candid confession, more candid than your former words would have led me to expect. But, young gentleman, it is not safe to trust such sentiments into a stranger's keeping: the Lord Protector has, it is said, his spies in every house; nay, it is reported the highways grow them as rife as blackberries." "And you may be one, for aught I know or care," said the youth bluntly. "But what of that?--they say Old Noll likes in others what he hath not yet practised himself--a thing called honesty; and at worst, he could but take my life, which, after all, is little worth in comparison to those he has already taken." A long silence followed this intemperate speech, which at last was broken by the mounted traveller. "You spoke of innovations, and I also believe it is ill to try experiments in states, unless the need be urgent, and unless it be the reformation that draweth on the change, and not the love of change that urgeth the reformation. Is not time the greatest innovator?--is he not always changing? It hath been said that, as in nature things move violently to their place, and calmly _in_ their place; so virtue in ambition is violent, in authority settled and calm. Steel sharpens steel; so one glory perfecteth another: and I am of belief, that they who are glorious, must have been factious. Yet are there degrees in honour, and amongst the first of them I should rank founders of commonwealths, or even states, such as we read of in history--Romulus----" "And you would, I suppose, include the name of Cromwell in the list you were about to make?" interrupted De Guerre. "And why not?" retorted the other proudly; "why not Cromwell? Is the oak to be despised because it was once an acorn? Remember what he suffers for his state; if, like the stars above us, he is much venerated, even like them he hath no rest." "Nor doth he deserve it," said the youth. "Ah! say'st so!" exclaimed the stranger, hastily, but instantly adding in a settled voice--"Walter De Guerre, or whatever be your name, beware, and use not such expressions when you know not your company. You said but now, your opinions were your property; then give them not away unasked where we are going. I know you to be brave, and generosity follows bravery as truly as one star succeedeth another; but discretion of speech is more valuable than eloquence. And, as to Cromwell, the people's shepherd has need to keep good count and careful watch; for wolves and foxes in sheep's clothing break into the pinfolds, kill and devour. Did he not act the part of Epimetheus (according to the profane but wise fable), who, when griefs and evils flew abroad, at last shut down the lid, and kept Hope in the bottom of the vessel, verily, indeed, his lot would be severe. We can know but little how hard it is to labour through evil report and good report. Charity in judgment is befitting in all, but most of all in the young." They were now within sight of Cecil Place. De Guerre had to contend with many painful feelings, and a provoking consciousness of the strange ascendency his companion had acquired over him, so that he dared hardly speak his own words, or think his own thoughts. Nor could he trace this to any external influence: the man was plain almost to vulgarity; his dress common; and though his sword-blade was strong, the handle was perfectly devoid of ornament. His horse was the only thing in his appointments that indicated the station of a gentleman; but the saddle appeared so old and battered, and withal so ill-made, that De Guerre marvelled so noble an animal would condescend to carry such a weight of old leather and damaged flock. It is true, that towards the close of their conversation he had uttered some sentiments that, for a moment, startled the Cavalier; but then he had uttered them in so unskilled and confused a manner, and with such an unmusical voice, that it reminded him, not unaptly, of a blacksmith stringing pearls, so coarse was the medium through which these fine things came. He ventured to console himself, however, by the reflection, that a man of such cool and determined bravery must be, despite external appearances, a person of some consequence: an opinion confirmed by his being a guest, and evidently a privileged guest, of Sir Robert Cecil. He arrived at this conclusion as they passed the postern-gate; and, as the night was now far gone, the old porter lighted his flambeaux to escort them to the house. As the old man walked some degree in advance, the elder took the opportunity to inquire of his companion,-- "Have you ever seen Mistress Cecil?" "Seen Mistress Cecil!" repeated De Guerre, in evident embarrassment: "I have seen but few of the ladies of the country--have had few opportunities of doing so." "Yet you resented the profanation of her name this afternoon under the oak--dost remember that?" "I know not who you are, sir," retorted Walter, angrily, and at length fully roused from the respectful silence he had so long maintained, "that you should thus cross and question one who sought not your acquaintance. By heavens, if I were a friend (which, thank God, I am not) of him you call Protector, or King, or whatever it be, I would advise him of such persons; for it is the duty of every honest subject to watch over his ruler, as over his father, with the care and the duty--the tenderness and affection of a child. I should like to know how you knew I had a grey steed?" "Or how I discovered your ruffle with Sir Willmott Burrell after the funeral," interrupted the other; "but be not afraid of meeting him: he left Cecil Place some days ago, to arrange some business. Nay, now, do not crow loudly your defiance, because I mentioned the word _fear_. What a game-cock it is! pity, that though there is no white feather, there should be no right feather in so gallant a crest!--Methinks the old porter is long in summoning the grooms, so I will enter in the name of the Lord; and do thou mind, 'Old Thunder,'" he added, in a gentle tone, at the same time patting the curved neck of the noble creature, who turned round his head at the caress, as if in appreciation of its value. De Guerre took the bridle almost mechanically in his hand, and at the same time muttered, "Left here, like a groom, to hold his horse! By the Lord! I'll groom it for no man--yet, 'tis no disgrace, even to knighthood, to handle a good steed; though I'd bet my poor Jubilee against him.--Ah! here they come--" and he was preparing to resign his charge right gladly to two servants, who advanced from a side-door just as the stranger had mounted the last of a series of broad and platform-like steps leading to the principal entrance. No sooner, however, had the first of the attendants caught sight of the horseman's cloak and broad-brimmed hat of the stranger, than he sprang up the steps, and seized the garment, as the wearer was entering the hall. He turned fiercely round at the assault; but the aggressor, whom De Guerre now recognised as Springall, hung upon him too firmly to be easily shaken off:--he drew his sword half out of its scabbard, and kept his eye fixed upon the youth. "I was sure of it! I was sure of it!" shouted Springall; "the cloak, the hat--all! Now will I be even with thee for hanging me over the cliff, like a poor fish in a heron's claw, and all for nothing." "Go to, Springall," said De Guerre, coming up, pleased at observing that the wrathful glance of the stranger had changed into a smiling good-humoured look at the boy's harmless impetuosity: "Go to, Springall; the double-dub and the Canary are in thine eyes, and in thy scatter-pate. What could you know of this strange gentleman?" "I vow by the compass," replied the boy, suffering his grasp on the cloak to relax, as he gazed in no less amazement on the Cavalier; "we are bewitched! all bewitched! I left you, sir, on your way to Gull's Nest with wee Robin; and here you are keeping company with this very hey-ho sort of--But by the Law Harry! he's off again!" exclaimed Springall, whose astonishment had got the better of his watchfulness, and who perceived, on turning round, that the mysterious gentleman had disappeared. "You are not going to be mad enough to follow any one into Sir Robert Cecil's hall!" argued De Guerre, at the same time seizing Springall's arm. "Oh, Lord! oh, Lord! that I should ever live to see you, sir, in league with a bogle! Why, I vow I had the mark of that devil's hand on me in black lumps, just as if I was burnt with what our scourer calls _ague-fortys_. As I am a living man, he went from off the brow of the cliff, just like a foam-wreath." "Pshaw! Spring; how can you or any one else tell 'who's who,' on a dark night?" "Could I be deceived in the cut of his jib or mainsail, ye'r honour? to say nothing of the figure-head!--Am I a fool?" "You are not over wise, just now, my gay sailor; so off to your hammock." "And must I see no more of that old gentleman?" "Not to-night, Spring; perhaps to-morrow he may give you satisfaction," added Walter, smiling at his own conceit. The youth went off, not very steadily, to the little gate by which he entered; and a servant immediately announced to De Guerre, that Sir Robert Cecil waited for him in the supper-hall. He followed the domestic through the great vestibule, which bore a more cheerful aspect than on the sad but memorable night of Hugh Dalton's most unwelcome visit. Although the spring was considerably advanced, the fagot blazed up the huge chimney, and illumined every corner of the overgrown apartment. The grim portraits which graced the walls looked more repugnant than usual in the red light that was thrown upon them by the glowing fire; while beneath hung the very suits of armour in which, if their most approved chroniclers are to be believed, they had performed feats of valour. Upon the table of massive marble were strewed sundry hawk's hoods, bells and jesses; some fishing-tackle, and a silver-mounted fowling-piece also appeared amid the mélange; while a little black spaniel, of the breed that was afterwards distinguished by a royal name, was busily engaged in pulling the ears of a magnificent hound of the wolf kind, who, shaggy and sleepy, seemed little disposed to be roused from his lair by the caprioles of the diminutive creature that hardly reached to the first joint of his fore-leg. The lesser animal, in accordance with the general custom of his kind, ran yelping and barking at the stranger as he advanced up the hall; while the more sagacious and dangerous dog raised his head, shook his ears, stretched forth his paws, and elevated his broad chest, then sniffed the air so as to be able to remember De Guerre if ever he needed to do so; seeing that he was escorted by the servant, and therefore, doubtless, a person of respectability, he composed himself again to rest as De Guerre entered the presence of Sir Robert Cecil. A few weeks had wrought a fearful change upon his countenance and form: the eyes were more hollow, the cheeks more pale, the hair ribanded with white, where but a little before there had been few grey hairs, and the shoulders were much rounded since his interview with the Buccaneer. He proceeded courteously to meet his guest, bowing, and expressing the honour he felt in being introduced (through the Lord's mercy) to the preserver of his friend. The baronet had approached slowly towards De Guerre during this salutation, but either his dim sight, or the obscurity of the further end of the room, prevented his being at first struck with his appearance. As the young man advanced, Sir Robert Cecil's gaze was fastened on his countenance with a gasping earnestness, that shook every fibre of his frame; his lips trembled, and remained apart, and he seemed for a few moments unable to move to the seat he had quitted. The "friend" he had alluded to was seated in a carved chair near the fire, his foot placed upon a cushioned stool, and his arms folded over his bosom, his head rested on his chest, but his eyes were fixed on the beautiful face of Constance Cecil, who had risen on the stranger's entrance; nor did it escape the notice of so keen an observer, that the lady's cheek was suddenly suffused by a deep hue of crimson, as suddenly succeeded by a pallor and trembling, that made her cling to the arm of Lady Frances Cromwell for support. "I beg to present," he rose, and said, "to my worthy friend Sir Robert Cecil, and to you, Lady Frances Cromwell, and to you also, Mistress Cecil, this young gentleman, by the name of Walter de Guerre, who, though of French extraction, hath doubtless had an English godfather, who hath favoured him with an English Christian name. And now, most worthy baronet, as master of this mansion, I pray you to present me to him who hath a swift arm and a ready hand for the defence of an attacked soldier." "Major Wellmore, young gentleman; a tried and trusty friend to the English Commonwealth and its Protector!" said Sir Robert at last; adding, as if in apology for his emotion--"Constance! this strange megrim in my head!" And Constance, with the watchful care of an affectionate child, led him to his seat, presented him a glass of cordial; and not till he had declared himself quite recovered, did she return to her station on the low sofa, beside her friend Lady Frances Cromwell. De Guerre was particularly struck, during the brief repast that followed, by the extraordinary change in the manner of his companion, who, from being an animated and sensible speaker, upon matters connected with the state, had become more like a mystified and mystifying preacher than a soldier, but whose out-pourings were listened to with reverence and attention by the company. The Cavalier felt himself ill at ease in his presence, and but for a governing motive, hereafter to be explained, would have withdrawn from the house when the supper was concluded, despite the specious invitation, and much pressing to remain; he, however, accepted the apartment provided for him by Sir Robert Cecil. The ladies, attended by their women, withdrew immediately afterwards, and, as Lady Frances kissed her friend's cheek, she whispered,-- "Didst see how Major--plague upon me to forget his name--eyed both you and the handsome stranger?" And then she whispered so as to be quite inaudible, ending by saying--while Constantia affectionately pressed her hand,-- "Ah! those holy eyes of blue, remaining so silent and so fixed, do more mischief than my poor little brown ones, that are ever roaming about seeking what they can devour, but securing no prey." CHAPTER X. With that smooth falsehood, whose appearance charms, And reason of each wholesome doubt disarms; Which to the lowest depths of guilt descends, By vilest means pursues the vilest ends. Wears friendship's mask for purposes of spite, Fawns in the day and butchers in the night. CHURCHILL. The dwelling of Sir Willmott Burrell was about eighteen or twenty miles from the island of Shepey, on the Kentish border. The mysterious companion of De Guerre had correctly stated, that at the period of his introduction to the Cecil family the youth had little chance of meeting with his treacherous antagonist of the evening on which the remains of Lady Cecil were consigned to the tomb; the knight having been, for some days previous, occupied upon certain weighty affairs within his own house. A bad landlord can never succeed in convincing his tenantry that he is a good man. The presence of Sir Willmott was by no means desirable to his poorer neighbours and dependents, by whom he was at once dreaded and disliked. Rarely, indeed, was it that a blessing ever followed the mention of his name; and, although his influence and authority were such as to render it dangerous to murmur against the one, or oppose the other, Sir Willmott had ample reason to know that he was nowhere surrounded by so many secret enemies as when residing upon his hereditary estate. The domestics who had served his progenitors had long been dismissed, and their places supplied by more subservient creatures, and more willing panders to the vices that had increased with his increasing years. Although he had taken especial care to surround himself with knaves of great apparent devotion, in order that his character might not suffer in the estimation of the few really religious personages by whom he was occasionally visited, it required considerable care to prevent their exposing, by their own depravity, the gross and iniquitous life which their master led. It is seldom that a uniform hypocrite is found among the uneducated; a more than ordinary degree of talent and prudence being necessary to sustain a character that is but assumed. Nature may be suppressed by habitual caution; but the meaner, though not the baser, villain, finds appetite too strong for even interest to control. The household of Sir Willmott Burrell was ill-governed, and the lessons which the master sometimes taught, but never practised, the servants neglected or--despised. The butler, the housekeeper, the steward, and the numerous insubordinate subordinates were evermore in a state of riot and debauchery: the evil had at length grown to such a pitch, that Burrell saw its danger, and more than once resolved to adopt the only remedy, and discharge them altogether; but upon such occasions, he overlooked one very important circumstance, namely, that he was in their power, and was consequently any thing but a free agent in his own house. Burrell knew himself in their toils, and at their mercy. Large sums of money might, perhaps, have purchased their silence, but such a mode of procuring safety was now beyond his reach; and although deeply desirous to rid himself of them before his marriage with Constantia Cecil, he scarcely conceived it possible to escape from their trammels, without subtracting from the fortune that was to accompany her hand. He dreaded the danger of confiding his difficulties to Sir Robert Cecil, by whom they were unsuspected; and his fine property was so considerably mortgaged, as to render an appeal to his ancient friends, the usurers, a matter of much difficulty, if not totally useless. Manasseh Ben Israel, indeed, he knew had an inexhaustible store, and a not unready hand, as he had upon more than one occasion, experienced; but, villain as he was, he shrank from the idea of applying to him for assistance, at the very moment when he was thrusting the iron into his soul. Burrell was seated alone in his library, musing over the labyrinth from which he saw no immediate prospect of escape; plan succeeding plan, as, unnoticed by him, the twilight had deepened into the night. His doors were ordered to be locked at an early hour--a command which, it is to be supposed, the servants obeyed or disobeyed according to their own pleasure. The Lords' Commissioners, Fiennes and Lisle, who were travelling round the country on special business, had been his visiters for three or four days; and on the evening on which they took their departure, he was, as we have described him, musing in his library, upon no very amicable terms with himself, when his reverie was broken by a knock against the glass of an oriel window that was sunk deep into an embrasure of the wall. He started from his seat, and was so alarmed at perceiving the face of a man close to the fretted frame-work, as to draw forth a pistol, and present it towards the intruder. In an instant the shivered fragments of an exquisitely tinted pane flew into the library, and a voice exclaimed,-- "It's me!" "And what is the motive of this destruction?" stormed forth the Master of Burrell, in an angry tone, proceeding at the same time to open the window; "were there not people enough below to bring up your message? and are there not doors enough for you to enter, without clambering twenty feet up a straight wall, and shattering this beautiful picture, the Marriage of St. Catherine, in a thousand pieces?" "As to the marriage of St. Catherine," observed his visiter, stepping through the casement, "I wish I could break all marriages as easily; and as to the motive, your honour, I did not like to wait quietly, and see a pistol-ball walk towards my witless pate, to convince, by its effects thereupon, the unbelieving world that Robin Hays had brains. As to the domestics, the doors were locked, and they, I do believe, (craving your pardon, sir,) too drunk to open them. As to the wall, it's somewhat straight and slippery; but what signifies a wall to one who can be in safety on a tow-line, and only that between him and eternity? Thank God! there is nothing on my conscience to make my footing tremble--or----" "Robin Hays," interrupted Burrell at last, "I have listened to you with much patience, because I know you love to hear the sound of your own voice; if you bear either message or letter from my worthy friend Sir Robert Cecil, let me have it at once." "You are in error, sir, under favour." "Indeed!--then to whom am I indebted for this visit; for I suppose you came not on your own account?" "Ah, Sir Willmott!--you are always wise, Sir Willmott; truly it would be ill coming on my own account, seeing that I had no business of my own to bring me, therefore why should I come? and even if I had, Dapple Dumpling travels so slowly." "This trifling is impertinent," exclaimed the knight angrily: "to your business." "I hope it wo'n't end in smoke, as it begins in fire," replied Robin, slily presenting a roll of the tobacco vulgarly called pig-tail. "Mis-shapen wretch!" retorted Burrell in a towering passion, flinging the roll directly in his face, "how dare you to trifle thus with your superiors? art drunk, or mad?" "Neither, an please ye, Sir Willmott," replied Robin, replacing the tobacco in his bosom; "only since you wo'n't look into the pig-tail, perhaps you will tell me what I am to say to Hugh Dalton." "Hugh Dalton! There, give it me; why did you not tell me you came from the Buccaneer? Robin, you are a million times worse than a fool! There, sit, good Robin--But, no, light me yon lamp; the fire burns dimly. A murrain on't, I can't see! There, that will do." While Burrell read Dalton's communication, thus whimsically but carefully conveyed, Robin had ample time to moralise on and observe all around him. "That table," thought the Ranger, "is just a type of the times. The Bible, it can hardly be seen for the heap of foolish expositions, and preachments, in the shape of pamphlets, that crowd upon it. O, Lord! O, Lord! take from the Puritans their vain opinions, wild imaginations, false valuations, and the like, which they hang over the book that Barbara says has so much good in it (just as the Catholics at San Eustatia trick out the Saviour's figure), and what poor shrunken minds they'd have! Then the bottle and glass: that, I'm afraid, typifies the Cavalier; the poor Cavalier! who clings so firmly to the worn, and lets go the stronger, rope. But mark how the filthy liquor stands beside the pure book!--even so are the just and the unjust mingled. Ah! he has been praying with the Lords' Commissioners; then drinking, and so forth, the instant their backs were turned! Yet, God hath made the double-faced villain of good proportions, so that a woman can look on him with love, though his heart--augh!--I wouldn't have his heart for his lands, no, nor for his fine person either. Barbara can't abide him; she always says he has a black look--and so he has. But hark! there's knocking at the gate, and loud knocking too--Sir Willmott, as the servants can't hear, so can't answer, shall I go down?" Burrell was so much occupied with his letter, that he heard neither the knocking nor Robin's question, but sat, his eyes staring on the paper, as if the words were of fire. Nor was it a long epistle, though sufficiently important to rivet his whole attention. The contents were as follows:-- April the 6th, 1656. "SIR, "Agreeably to your instructions, I went to the house at St. Vallery, where you told me I was to meet the lady of whom we spoke; but she had left harbour a few hours before I entered. With much trouble I succeeded in tracing her to a very odd sort of dwelling, a little outside the town, yet not in time to overtake her or her attendant. Some said one thing, and some another; but I could gather no information to be depended on. I remained nearly nine days in the neighbourhood, watching every vessel that came in or went out; nevertheless, I am persuaded that she has embarked for England: how, is still a mystery. "Yours, "FIRE-FLY." "The fellow is careful enough: can it be possible he has played me false? Yet, where the motive, or what?" mused Burrell aloud. The knocking at the door was repeated, but was only answered by the loud baying of a brace of hounds. "And are the rascals really drunk?" inquired their master in a piteous tone, roused at last to a sense of what was passing around him. "Ay, faith, sir; had I not as well go down? for, though ill-apparelled as a serving-man, methinks I could do the civilities better than the night-wind that howls so cursedly round the entry." "Ay, go, go! only see that I be not disturbed, unless, indeed, it be some person I must see--some one of consequence." "Ay," muttered Robin: "so much for modern hospitality!" and he hastened to undo the fastening. As the chains fell, a small bent figure, completely enveloped in a fur cloak, entered the hall, closely followed by a swarthy attendant, whose high features, quick sparkling eyes, and downcast look bespoke him one of the tribe of Israel. "Is Sir Willmott Burrell within?" inquired the stranger, letting fall the cloak that had been closely muffled round his face: he spoke, however, in so foreign an accent, that it was a moment or two before Robin could reply. "I demanded of thee if Sir Willmott Burrell of Burrell was within?" repeated the old man; and as Robin observed him more attentively, he perceived that he was dressed in the peculiar fashion of the high-born Jews: his beard descended nearly to his girdle, and his head was surmounted by a perpendicular cap of yellow silk. "Sir Willmott Burrell is not well," replied Robin; "but I will take your name, if it please ye, and return speedily with his commands." "Manasseh Ben Israel demands instant parley with the Master of Burrell." Robin did not bow, because, as a humble Cavalier and a proud Christian, he held it a point of duty to hate and avoid the despised race to which the stranger belonged; but he made a respectful answer, for the riches of the Rabbi and the favour of Cromwell were not to be contemned. He then proceeded along the hall, and up some narrow stairs, called private, as they led only to the library, and was crossing the apartment for the purpose of announcing Ben Israel, when the Jew, who had closely and unobservedly followed his footsteps with so light a tread as even to escape Robin's ears, passed him suddenly, and as suddenly Burrell of Burrell sprang from his seat, as if struck by a musket-ball. The old man stood before him, his features working, his lips moving, but no articulate sound coming forth--his entire frame agitated, almost convulsed; while Burrell, exerting every power of his mind to the contest, was the first to move. He stepped towards the Jew, extending his hand in token of amity. Ben Israel touched it not, but raised his arm, pointing his skinny and shrivelled finger towards Burrell, until it came on a level with his countenance; then, by a desperate exertion, the cracked, strained voice forced a passage through his parched throat, and he exclaimed,-- "My child!--my only one!--Zillah!--my beloved, my only, only child! Do ye remember your own mother, who travailed for ye, brought ye forth in pain, and carried ye, and nourished ye in her bosom? Do ye ever hope to have a child, who will tend, and serve, and watch over you, as mine once did over me? If so, tell, tell me where mine is!--I will bless you for the knowledge! I, an old man, whose beard is white, implore you, who have ruined her, to tell me where she is!" The Jew flung his cap on the floor, and prostrated himself before Burrell, who immediately raised him, and in his most persuasive tone sought to soothe and assure the Rabbi he had been in every respect misled and misinformed. "Sit, good Ben Israel, and comfort yourself; you have, I swear to you, been grossly imposed upon by some malignants whom I must---- Robin! hunt out the knaves, and bring some wine--the best in the old bin, for my good friend. How could you, sir, suppose me capable of betraying the confidence you reposed when you introduced me to the abode in which your fair daughter dwelt? But, granting I had the ascendency over her, which from your speech you seem to infer, how----" "Sir Christian, stop!" interrupted Ben Israel, who, now his feelings had found vent, had composed himself, so as to meet his wily adversary with tolerable fortitude: "Sir Christian, stop! There are two classes of human kind your sect deceive without regret--betray without compunction--and destroy, body and soul, without remorse--women and Jews. It is nought, sir, nought--mere pastime--women's hearts and reputations, and old men's grey hairs! Alas! alas! and is such the religion of England!" The old man bent his head, and moaned heavily; then, after a little space of time, raised himself, and said, "In the name of the God of Jacob, I will take you point by point! Reply unto my questioning; and, if thou canst, acquit thyself."--A ray of hope darted over his expressive features, like a beam of light athwart a thunder-cloud. "But no," he continued, his countenance again darkening, "it cannot be--it cannot be." "Worthy Ben Israel! excellent Rabbi!" replied Burrell; "dissect me as you will; and if I answer not thy expectation----" "Too truly wilt thou answer my expectation," said the Jew. "The Lord of Hosts be praised that these iniquities are unpractised by the children of my people! The innocent lamb torn from the fold; or, what is worse, decoyed from the tents of her fathers! Had she been dead, I could have said, 'The Lord's will be done,' He hath taken the child back into her mother's bosom. But answer unto me these points--Didst often see Zillah?" "I certainly did see your daughter at times, during my stay in Paris." "And why, having delivered my messages? Of what importance ought thy visits to have been to one of the despised race?" "You surely would not impute evil to my inquiring if your daughter wished to write to her father when I forwarded despatches to England?" "Strange, then, she should never have availed herself of such kindness. Did she give no reason for this neglect of her parent?" "I saw so little of her," replied Burrell carelessly, "that I really forget." The Rabbi shook his head. "Perhaps, then, Sir Willmott Burrell, you can remember this trinket, and inform me how it came into my daughter's hands: it was forced from her previous to her flight." Burrell started, for it was a miniature of himself, which he had given her in the bud of his affection. At last he brazened out an assurance that, however like, it was not his; that he could not tell how young ladies obtained miniature pictures; that, if the Rabbi would look, he would observe the hair and eyes to be much lighter. "Man!" exclaimed the Rabbi, fixing his keen black eye upon Burrell, "away from before me! Guilt and falsehood are on your lip. Your eye, the eye of the proud Christian, quails before the gaze of the despoiled and despised Jew; were you innocent, you would stand firm as I do now, erect in your Maker's image. Do you not tremble lest God's own lightnings blast you? Did you ever read, and reading believe, the Christian story of Ananias and Sapphira!" If Burrell had possessed an atom of human feeling, he would have sunk abashed to the earth, and entreated the forgiveness of the Rabbi, whose flashing eyes and extended features glared and swelled with indignation; but the only two emotions that at the time contended within him were cowardice and pride. Had he the power, gladly would he have struck the Jew to death, as a punishment for what he deemed his insolence; but he feared the protecting and avenging hand of Cromwell, who never resigned a cherished purpose or a cherished person, and whose esteem for the learned Rabbi was perfectly known, and much talked of about the court. "You cannot avoid crediting me for meekness, Ben Israel," he said, without, however, raising his eyes from the ground (for his blood boiled in his veins, though he spoke in a gentle tone); "you have come into my house, rated me upon a foul charge, and will not permit me to speak in my own defence. Take a cup of this wine, and then I will hear, if you can adduce it, further proof than that false portrait." The Rabbi touched not the proffered beverage, but withdrew from his vest sundry letters, which he unfolded with a trembling hand: they were the communications he had received from the Polish Jew, with whose family at Paris his daughter had remained. He stated Burrell's extraordinary attention to Zillah, during his residence abroad--the frequent letters that passed between them under pretence of a correspondence with her father--her having received others from England since Burrell's return--her total change of manner--and, finally, her having quitted his house, and his being unable to discover where she had gone. Strong suspicions were added that she had followed Burrell to, and was now in, England; and there was a long and formal expression of regret from the Polish Jew that he had ever admitted the Christian beyond the threshold of his door. The villain breathed more freely when he ascertained that the fugitive had not been traced from St. Vallery; and he felt he could have braved the affair with perfect ease and indifference, but for the information conveyed by Dalton's letter, and the consequent dread of Zillah's appearing before him, perhaps at the very moment that the often-asserted, and sworn to, lie passed his lips. It was now more difficult to dissemble than he had ever yet found it; he saw clearly that his oaths and protestations made but little impression upon the mind of Ben Israel, who filled up every pause either by lamentations for his daughter, execrations on her seducer, or touching appeals to one whose feelings were centred in self, and who therefore had little sympathy for sorrow that would have moved a heart of stone. Burrell was so thoroughly overpowered by the events of the evening, that the only point of exertion on which his mind rallied was a strong wish to rid himself of the Jew as speedily as possible, so that he might find opportunity to collect and arrange his thoughts--it therefore occurred to him to assume the bearing of injured innocence, as protestations had been of no avail; he accordingly said, in a tone and with a manner so earnest, that at the moment it almost destroyed the suspicions of the Rabbi:-- "Sir, I have over and over again asserted enough to convince any rational person that I know nothing of the crime you impute to me; having, in my own estimation, performed all that could be required, I must now withdraw. If you please to lay your statement before his Highness, I will defend myself, as I have now done, and let him judge between thee and me." "I have not been yet able to gain speech with the chosen in Israel," replied Manasseh: "he hath been much from home on secret service for the good of his people." Burrell exulted at this knowledge, and again protested his innocence in the strongest terms. Manasseh rose to depart. Burrell pressed him to remain; but the old man resolutely refused. "I am about to go forth from your dwelling. If you have not been the seducer of my child, I crave your pardon in deep humility, and will do penance in sackcloth and ashes for having wrongfully accused you; but," he added, bitterly, "if you have wronged me, and devoted her soul to destruction, may the curse of the old Jew enter into your veins, and curdle the red blood to a hot and destroying poison!--may the flowers of the spring be to you scentless and revolting!--may the grass wither under your footsteps!--may the waters of the valley be even as molten lead unto your parched lips!--may----" "Dog of an unbeliever!" exclaimed Burrell, whose temper could no longer brook the taunting curses of the old man, and whose coward spirit quailed beneath them, "hold thy foul tongue, lest I pluck it from between thy teeth. Had I been a circumcised Jew, and thou a Christian, I could not have listened with more humility; and this is the reward of my forbearance--curses deep and bitter as the waters of the Dead Sea." "They cannot harm if thou art innocent. I have neither broken bread nor tasted salt within thy walls; and now I shake the dust from off my feet upon thy threshold. Thy words at first were of honey and the honey-comb, but now are they as gall. Others must deal with thee. The prayer of the bereaved father was as a tinkling cymbal in thine ears; but the curse--the curse knocked at thy heart, and it trembled. Others must deal with thee." Manasseh Ben Israel repeated the curse with terrible energy; then shaking the dust from his sandals, he passed, and entered, with his attendant, the carriage that awaited him at the gate. Burrell was convinced, and humbled by the conviction, that an irresistible impulse had compelled him to desert his sophistry, and stand forth in his real character before one who had the ear of the Protector, and whose religious persuasion had not prevented his advancement, or his being regarded as a man of extraordinary mental attainments, even in a country, the prejudices of which, always deeply-rooted, were at that time peculiarly directed against the Jews. This people were devoted in their attachment to Cromwell; and it was believed that they would not have scrupled to declare him the Messiah could they have traced his descent in any degree, however remote, to the dwellers in Judah. Manasseh had mixed so much with Christians, and had been treated by the Protector so completely as an equal, that he retained but little of the servility of tone or manner, and less of the cringing and submissive demeanour, that characterised his tribe; he therefore spoke boldly to Sir Willmott Burrell, after a burst of strong and bitter feeling. He knew himself protected by the ruler of England, and felt undaunted in the presence of one he could easily destroy; but then he was a father, and as such impelled by nature to adopt every expedient that might promote the disclosure of a secret on which almost his life depended, and which, he doubted not, was, in some shape or other, in the keeping of his wily opponent. "A pretty scrape my villanies have brought me into!" thought Burrell, as he returned to his chamber: "the girl will come over--that stops a wedding. Suppose I were to take Zillah to wife--the old rascal would not give me a maravedi. Suppose, before I have secured Constance, Cromwell listens to the Rabbi's tale, he will forbid my marriage to please the accursed Jew, and I--may blow my brains out. Suppose I marry at once--But how? Lady Cecil not many weeks dead! I must manage it, however," he continued, pacing the apartment, while Robin, who had ascertained the impossibility of rousing the ill-governed menials from their state of hopeless debauchery, amused himself by counting the number of times the Master of Burrell walked up and down the room. At length, finding such dull watching wearisome, he ventured to enter, and inquire if he were to remain at Burrell House, or return to the Gull's Nest. "Well thought on, Robin Hays," said the knight, as if roused, and not unpleasantly, from himself and his thoughts; "you will rest here to-night, and accompany me to Cecil Place on the morrow. See to these rioters, of whom I must rid my house." "You had better do it, then, immediately," retorted Robin, "or they will save you trouble by ridding you of your house." "True, good Robin; you are ready-witted." "And, to keep up my character, I'll back to Cecil Place this very hour," muttered Robin, as he closed the door; "there is one there who must not tarry the coming of Sir Willmott Burrell." CHAPTER XI. But such it is: and though we may be taught To have in childhood life, ere love we know, Yet life is useless till by reason taught, And love and reason up together grow. SIR W. DAVENANT. "And, indeed, my grave Lady Constance plays with the poor fish in a very sportsmanlike manner; only, methinks, a little too shy, and a trifle too sensitive! Marry, girl! what a most yielding, docile, and affectionate wife you would make!--like one of the heroines in the ancient Spanish romances; or such a one as--Judith!--no--for you would never venture to chop off a man's head--Stay--did she so?--or--Barbara! you are well read in Scripture history; and, though you ply your needle so industriously, that will not prevent your calling to mind some of the holy women in the Bible, to whom your mistress may be compared." Barbara Iverk, who had no other duty at Cecil Place than to wait upon the young heiress or assist in her embroidery, was considered and treated more as a humble companion than a menial; and Lady Frances Cromwell talked just as freely to Mistress Cecil in her presence as if they were perfectly alone. Nor was such confidence ever abused by the gentle girl. She moved within her small circle like an attendant satellite upon a brilliant star--silent and submissive--yet ever in her place, ever smiling, innocent, and happy,-- "A maid whom there were few to praise, And very few to love." Simple and single-minded, her soul had never been contaminated by the idea, much less the utterance, of falsehood. Even to Constantia, the fulness of her worth and fidelity was unknown; although the bare contemplation of Barbara's ever parting from her was one of actual pain. She replied to the lively question of the Lady Frances in her usual straightforward and unpresuming manner: a manner that afforded considerable amusement to the merry trifler, by whom the little Puritan was commonly spoken of, while absent, as "the fresh primrose." "Indeed, my lady, I do not like mixing up profane and holy things together." "Fie, Barbara! to call your mistress profane. Constance, do put down those heavy poems of Giles Fletcher, and listen to your bower-maiden, describing you as one of the profane." Constance looked up and smiled; while poor Barbara endeavoured to free herself from the charge with earnestness and humility. "My Lady Frances, I ask your pardon; but I can hardly, I fear, make you understand what I mean. I know that Mistress Cecil is always aiming at the excellence to which the holy women of Scripture attained--but----" "Then she has not attained their holiness in your estimation? She is too earthly still?" "She is my dear and noble lady, and to know her is to love her," replied Barbara, her brown, affectionate eyes swimming in tears at the wilful perversion of her words. "May I beg, Lady Frances, that you will condescend not to question so poor and simple a girl as myself on what I know so little of?" "There you are again in error, Barbara," retorted her tormentor, who, like most wits, cherished a jest more than the feelings of those she jested with; "I condescend when questioning, not when silent." Barbara made no reply, and Lady Frances, who was, at the same time, pulling to pieces a superb fan of ostrich feathers, proceeded to open her light battery against Constantia. "How is Sir Robert this morning? I wish he were rid of the rheumatism, and with us again. I have hardly seen him since the valiant De Guerre made his appearance among us, except at dinner; and, indeed, he looks ill, though--heigh ho!--I wish all papas were as accommodating, and let their daughters flirt with whom they like." "Flirt, Lady Frances?" "Yes, flirt, Mistress Cecil! Is there any thing appalling in the word? though I believe it somewhat of the newest. Now, poor I have no skill in these matters! If I see a pretty fellow, I care not who knows it; I like a jest, a laugh, tempered with all rightful modesty. I do not prim my mouth, tutor my eyes into sobriety, nor say Amen, like old Will's Macbeth, to those who say 'God bless us!' I laugh my laugh, and look my look, and say my say, though I am youngest, and, by God's grace, wildest of his Highness the Protector's children." "Where got you your gay spirit, Lady Frances?" said Constantia, rising and stepping towards her. "My mother is a discreet matron as need be, but my father was not always one of the gloomy rulers of this gloomy land: he had his wild days, though it is treason to speak of them now; and, in sooth, he sometimes forgets that young blood runs swifter than old--How he lectures poor Richard!" "The Lord Richard is not cast in his great father's mould; he is a gentler and a feebler spirit; one who loves to hear of, or to read of, great deeds, rather than to act them. Lady Fauconberg is more like your father." "My sister Mary would certainly have made a fine man. It was one of nature's blunders to convert such coarse clay into a woman." "She has a noble mind, Frances, though not so holy a one as the Lady Claypole." "Well, dear Constance, you are very good to bear with me. Suppose, now, my father, instead of sending me here, had commanded that I should sojourn and mystify with that righteous Mrs. Lambert, whom he magnifies into a model of holiness; what a time I should have passed! Why, the nuns, whom the holy Sexburga placed up yonder, had not as much loneliness; don't you think the place was admirably adapted for an elopement? I am certain--nay, you need not smile--for I am quite certain, that every one of the seventy-seven maidens, of whom history tells us, including the charming Ermenilda herself, fully made up their minds to run off with the Danes before they came to the island. I wish, though, that your father could be persuaded to consider this only a summer residence, for it must be a little dreary, I think. Not that I feel it such, for you are so kind; and just as we were beginning to grow a little dull or so, a flourish--and enter Walter De Guerre, under the auspices of Major Wellmore! Ha! ha! ha! Well it has amused me so much. He certainly is a most charming person; and if _one_, who is not here, were here, I should be inclined to tease him a little by my vast admiration of this gentleman. By the way, Sir Willmott Burrell has little reason to thank Major Wellmore for this new introduction; though it must be quite delightful to make either a lover or a husband jealous. Ah, I see you do not agree with me--I did not expect you would; but, do you know, I have taken it into my head that this De Guerre is not De Guerre." "Indeed! who is he then?" "That, Constantia, is exactly what I want to know--and I think you could unravel the mystery." "My dear Frances, you are a very unaccountable person; always playing false yourself, you hardly ever give people credit for being true." "You are vastly complimentary. Ah, Constance, when you come to Hampton, you must learn some court observances. When we were children together, we spoke truth." "Were we not very happy then?" "We were," said Frances, drawing a heavy sigh; "but how changed the times since then! Constance, those who walk along a precipice may well dread falling. Gay, giddy as I am, Cromwell has not a child who glories in him more than I do." "And well you may," added Constance, whose dignity of soul led her to appreciate, with as much judgment as enthusiasm, the extraordinary man who commanded the admiration, not only of England, but of Europe. "Well may you be proud of the most successful statesman, the most resolute general, the most useful Christian that ever governed a state. By his power he holds our enemies in subjection; and guides our friends by his wisdom. I am but a poor politician, yet, methinks, I could almost worship your father for the spirit and humanity with which he succours those poor persecuted Vaudois, who have kept their faith pure as the breath of their native valleys: when I think of this, even the conqueror is forgotten in the man." "You are a dear noble creature," exclaimed Frances, as she gazed with admiration upon the animated and expressive countenance of her companion; then encircling her neck, and kissing her cheek, with that delightful warmth of manner which can spring only from warmth of feeling, she continued, "I wish, my love, that flush were always on your cheek. You nourish some secret sorrow, Constance; nay, I am sure you do; and I will write and say so to my sister Claypole, who is worthy to be your confidant, as well as your godmother, though I am not. Nay, nay, I know it well: I admire, but do not quite understand you. The heavens are given us to hope for, and the sun to look upon, and--but dear me! that would be--a simile! I vow that sounded like rhyme; but here comes reason, in the shape of our new knight. Adieu! dear Constantia!--Barbara! that is surely Robin Hays, groping among the slopes like a huge hedgehog. Did you not want to consult him as to the management of the peewits' eggs?" "In truth, yes, my lady," replied Barbara, rising from a half-finished carnation:--"May I go, mistress?" Constance assented. "May _I_ go, mistress?" repeated Lady Frances, mimicking Barbara's tone and courtesy, in her light-hearted gaiety. "Yes," replied Constantia firmly, "I would rather you did; for I have something particular to say to Major Wellmore's friend." "Now, is not that just like Constance Cecil?" thought Lady Frances, as she left the room; "another would have said any thing rather than the truth--yet is truth a noble thing: something to venerate as well as love--the best of virtues, the wisest of counsellors, and the firmest of friends." Constance rose from her seat as the Cavalier entered; but there was an expression of deep sorrow over his whole countenance, that was almost immediately communicated to hers. What an extraordinary and undefinable tie is that which binds souls and sympathies together--the voice, that is heard only by the ear of affection--the look, that only one can understand--the silent thrill of happiness or of anguish, communicated by a smile or by a sigh! The world may sneer at, or may condemn; yet most true it is, that they who love with the most purity and the most truth, draw nearest to that great Spirit who is the perfection of both! "I am come," said De Guerre, "to bid for awhile farewell to Mistress Cecil; to thank her for the kindness I have received under this roof; and to assure her that it can never be forgotten." "You have received but little attention--too little, indeed; yet, my father's health--our recent heavy affliction--will, I am sure, plead for us, and win an excuse. I was not, however, aware that your departure would come so suddenly. Is my father apprised of it?" "He is not:--forgive me, lady; but I could not avoid saying how much and how truly I have felt the kind consideration you have bestowed upon one who, however worthy, I hope, in many respects, has nevertheless deceived you." "De Guerre may deceive me," replied Constance, with considerable emotion, extending one hand as she spoke, and covering her face with the other, "De Guerre may deceive me, but Walter--_dear_ Walter--never." The young man took her offered hand, and pressed it affectionately to his lips. "Ah! how soon you saw in the Cavalier the companion and playmate of your childhood, though you believed him dead! Women have quick eyes, and warm hearts for old friends. Unrecognised by my nurse--by your father--yet discovered by you--by you only, Constance! I need not say, do not betray me; do not breathe, even to those walls, who it is that has entered within them; let it remain secret as the grave. But I need not urge you thus, for treachery is not in your nature; let me talk of other things, and ask by what token, Constance, did you trace me through the disguise that years, and the burning sun of many a parched land, have thrown over my features and my form?" "It was your voice that struck me first--some tones and modulations, that I well remembered when you called my dog:--then the unforgotten locket which you placed in my hand, which, when I had seen you, I knew could have been placed there by no other:--then----" Constance paused and blushed; she ought to have felt angry at the liberty that had been taken with her tresses, but she gave no expression to such a feeling; and the pause was broken by the Cavalier, who drew from his bosom the beautiful braid of which the maiden had been robbed. The colour on Constantia's cheek was succeeded by a deadly paleness. "Ah! what a moment it was, by that old temple, the lily triumphing over the rose on your fair cheek, even more than now, yet with such mild and gentle triumph, one scarce could wish it less; your eyes veiled by those soft lashes:--well, no more--I will say no more of this. I tried my poor skill to call you back to life, and, just as I succeeded, your companion and attendant came in sight. Since then, this dear memento has nestled near my heart, a shield against evil, and against evil thoughts. What! still so pale? you must be ill, my sweet friend," he inquired tenderly. "No, Walter, not in body; but wherefore should you bear that braid so near you?" "Sweet Constance, may I now call you by that dear name? Oh, how my heart rebelled against the sound 'Mistress Cecil!'--Truly is love a republican, for he does not recognise titles; though, perhaps, it were better to describe him as a despot, acknowledging none that are not of his own creation. Why should I not wear the braid? Though now an outlawed man, it may not be always thus; the time will come when my own arm shall win the way to glory and to fortune." "I doubt it not--I doubt it not;--but--save that nothing can make your fortunes a matter of indifference to the friend and companion of your childhood--I can have no greater interest in you, nor you in me. But why prevent my saying to my father that the lost bird is found? Methinks I would gladly know with him the mysteries of your disappearance, and the still greater one of your concealment; suffer that I tell----" The Cavalier smiled a smile so moody, so full of sad expression, that she paused. "Not so; I cannot explain any thing: perhaps (if your words be serious) the time may never come when I can explain. As to your father, if you ever valued Walter, I charge you, even as you now value his life, that you give hint to no human being of his existence. I am sure you will keep my secret; strange as may seem the request, still you will grant it." "Yet surely, Walter, you may confide in one who sorrowed for her playmate, with a lengthened and deep grief; but--" she slowly added, observing the altered expression of his countenance, "remember, I can only be to you a friend." The words were uttered in a tone not to be misconceived. The Cavalier understood and felt it. "Better, then, that I had gone forth, as I was about to do, in ignorance that any here recognised the ruined and outcast Walter! Can there be truth in the rumour, that one so young, so beautiful, bearing the softened impress of a noble and immortal mind upon a brow so lofty, is a willing sacrifice to a coward and villain? Did I not hear you, with my own ears, protest to the Lady Frances Cromwell, that, of your own free will, you would never marry this Sir Willmott Burrell? and, if it be so, if you spoke truth then, who dare compel you, wealthy and high-born, to give your hand where your heart is not? Oh, you are not the free, true-hearted girl, that, twelve years ago, leaped upon your native hills to meet the sunshine and the breeze, and often--alas! alas! that it should only have been in mere sportiveness--declared that--but no matter--I see it all, and future Lady of Burrell, bid you farewell and for ever." Constance replied with tears, yet calmly and firmly: "Walter, be not cruel; or, at least, be not unjust. You were ever impetuous, but also ever ready to repair the evil you had done. It is ill of you to use so harsh a word against one who has never wronged you. Alas! could you but read my heart, you would also judge of me otherwise; but think of me as your friend--your fervent and faithful friend--I will not prove unworthy." The Cavalier was about to reply, when Robin Hays was ushered into the room by Barbara, who immediately withdrew. After bowing with due respect to Constance, he was about to whisper into the ear of the Cavalier, who, however, desired him to speak out, as he had nought to conceal from that lady. The Ranger seemed but little astonished at receiving such a command, and without further ceremony proceeded. "I did hope, sir, that you would have left Cecil Place before this; Sir Willmott Burrell will, I am certain, arrive within an hour; and you know it is the Skipper's earnest desire that you should not meet." "Robin, you told me all this but a little time past; and I know not why I am to hear it again. I have nought to fear from this Burrell." "It would be certainly unsafe, were there a possibility of his suspecting you, for his----" Again Constantia interrupted herself; she had been on the point of betraying her knowledge of Sir Willmott's jealous and impatient temper; and, after a pause, she added, "but there is little danger of that: as a boy, he never saw you; and he must respect the friend of Major Wellmore." "Ah, madam!" observed Robin, "he is no respecter of persons; and I see no reason why two should meet again, who have already so roughly handled each other." "Where did they meet?" inquired Constance eagerly. "There is no time to tell the story now, lady," replied Robin impatiently. "As I see you know this gentleman, and knowing him, are too generous not to be interested in his favour, urge, I beseech you, his instant departure from Cecil Place. Surely I can explain every thing as well as he. It was Dalton's wish----" "I bitterly grieve to hear that you have aught to do with so bold, so bad a man as Dalton," said Constance hastily; "his name brings to my remembrance feelings of undefined pain, for which I cannot account. It is long since I have heard of him; but something poor Barbara communicated to me in her innocence, made me suspect he had been here. Go then; and take my prayers, and (though nothing worth, it may be,) my blessing. And now, farewell--farewell--at least for a time!" "We must meet again, Constance! say only that you will see me once more before----" "By Heaven!" exclaimed Robin, "you stand dallying here, and there is Sir Willmott himself coming down the avenue at full speed! Lady, I entreat your pardon for my boldness--But go, lady go!--in God's name!--then, and not till then, will he depart." Constance did not trust herself in the room a moment longer. After briefly collecting her thoughts, which had laboured unceasingly to unravel the mysteries that surrounded the Cavalier, she entered her father's chamber. He had been evidently suffering from illness, and was seated in a large easy chair, his feet resting upon cushions, while the Reverend Jonas Fleetword read from time to time out of sundry pious books that were placed on a table before him. The preacher paused as she approached, and signified his intention of walking forth "to meet the man Burrell," who, he understood from the wild youth called Robin Hays, was to arrive ere noon. It was a precious opportunity, one not to be neglected, for cultivating the rich seed sown in that holy land. When the worthy divine was fairly out of the room, Constance delivered a message from the Cavalier, stating that he had been obliged to leave Cecil Place without taking a personal leave of his kind host; and repeated his expressions of gratitude for the attentions he had experienced during his brief sojourn. "Thank God, he is gone!" replied the baronet, drawing his breath freely, as if relieved from a painful oppression. "Introduced as he was, it was impossible not to treat him with respect, but he strangely disturbed me. Did you not think him a cold, suspicious youth?" "I cannot say I did, sir." "You are singularly unsuspicious, Constance, for one so wise: you ought to learn distrust; it is a dark, a dreadful, but a useful lesson." "Methinks one has not need to study how to be wretched; suspicion has to me ever seemed the school of misery." The baronet made no reply to this observation, but soon after abruptly exclaimed,-- "He will not come again, I suppose." Constance did not know. He then fancied he could walk a little; and, pressing to his side the arm on which he leaned, said,-- "Ah, my child! a willing arm is more delightful to a parent than a strong one. Wilt always love thy father, Constance?" "My dear father, do you doubt it?" "No, my child; but suppose that any circumstance should make me poor?" "You will find what a nice waiting-maid your daughter is." "Suppose I was dishonoured?" "Public honour is given and taken by a breath, and is therefore of little worth; but the private and more noble honour is in our own keeping: my father keeps it safely." "But suppose that I _deserved_ the ill word of all mankind?" "My dear father, why trouble yourself or me with such a thought?--if it so happened, you would still be my parent; but such an event is impossible." The baronet sighed, as if in pain. Constance looked anxiously into his face, and noted that a cold and clammy perspiration stood thickly on his brow. "You had better sit down, dear sir." "No, my child, I shall be better for a little air; let us go into the library." As they entered the room, a scene of solemn drollery presented itself, that a humorous painter might well desire to portray. Kneeling on a high-backed and curiously-carved chair, was seen the lean, lanky figure of Fleetword, placed within a foot of the sofa, on which, in the most uneasy manner and discontented attitude, sat the Master of Burrell. The preacher had so turned the chair that he leaned over it, pulpit-fashion; holding his small pocket Bible in his hand, he declaimed to his single auditor with as much zeal and energy as if he were addressing the Lord Protector and his court. The effect of the whole was heightened by the laughing face and animated figure of Lady Frances Cromwell, half-concealed behind an Indian skreen, from which she was, unperceived, enjoying the captivity of Burrell, whom, in her half-playful, half-serious moods, she invariably denominated "the false black knight." Fleetword, inwardly rejoicing at the increase of his congregation, of whose presence, however, he deemed it wisdom to appear ignorant, had just exclaimed,-- "Has not the word of the Lord come to me, as to Elisha in the third year? and shall I not do His bidding?" "Thou art a wonder in Israel, doubtless," said Burrell, literally jumping from his seat, and that so rudely as nearly to overturn the pulpit arrangement of the unsparing minister; "but I must salute my worthy friend, whom I am sorry to see looking so ill." "Perform thy salutations, for they are good," said the preacher, adjusting the chair still further to his satisfaction, "and after that I will continue; for it is pleasant repeating the things that lead unto salvation." "You would not, surely, sir," said Lady Frances, coming forward and speaking in an under-tone, "continue to repeat poor Lady Cecil's funeral sermon before her husband and daughter?--they could not support it." "You speak like the seven wise virgins," replied Fleetword, putting one of his long limbs to the ground, as if to descend; and then as suddenly drawing it back, he added, "But the Lord's servant is not straitened; there are many rivers in Judah, so the faithful may drink at another stream." "I wish you would come with me," said Lady Frances, rightly interpreting the entreating look of Constantia: "or rather, come with _us_, for I am sure Mistress Cecil has much to say to, and I have much to hear from, you: we will leave Sir Robert and Sir Willmott to talk over the affairs of this great nation; temporal matters must be attended to, you know: and though"--she looked for a moment at Burrell, whose countenance had not yet regained its usual suavity--"I am sorry to be the means of depriving Sir Willmott of much necessary instruction--I have no doubt you will make up the deficiency to him at some future time." CHAPTER XII. The soote season that bud and blome forth brings, With green hath clad the hill, and eke the vale, The nightingale with fethers new she sings, The turtle to her mate hath told the tale, Somer is come, for every spray now springs. * * * * * * * And thus I see among these pleasant things, Eche care decay; and yet my sorrow springs. SURREY. It may be readily imagined that Burrell remained in a state of extreme perplexity after the receipt of Dalton's letter, and the departure of Ben Israel. He saw there was now but one course that could preserve him from destruction, and resolved to pursue it:--to cajole or compel Sir Robert Cecil to procure the immediate fulfilment of the marriage contract between himself and Constance. This was his only hope, the sheet-anchor to which he alone trusted; he felt assured that, if the Protector discovered his infamous seduction of the Jewess, Zillah, he would step in, from a twofold motive, and prevent his union: in that he esteemed both the Rabbi's wisdom and his wealth, and was most unlikely to suffer one on whom his favour had been bestowed so freely, to be injured and insulted with impunity; and next, inasmuch as he entertained a more than ordinary regard for Constance Cecil, the child of an ancient friend, and the god-daughter of the Lady Claypole. Of this regard he had, within a few weeks, given a striking proof, in having selected Cecil Place above more splendid mansions, and the companionship of its youthful mistress, in preference to many more eager candidates for such an honour, when, for certain weighty reasons, he deemed a temporary absence from the court essential to the comfort and prosperity of the Lady Frances. The friendship that had subsisted between the family of the Protector and that of Sir Robert Cecil was, as we have intimated, not of recent growth; the Lady Cromwell and Lady Cecil had been friends long before the husband of the former had been called to take upon him the high and palmy state that links his name so gloriously, so honourably--but, alas! in some respects, also, so unhappily--with the history of his country. When an humble and obscure individual at Ipswich, the visits of the Lady Cecil were considered as condescensions, upon her part, towards friends of a respectable, yet of a much inferior, rank. Times had changed; but he who was now a king in all but the name, and far beyond ordinary kings in the power to have his commands obeyed as widely as the winds of heaven could convey them--remembered the feelings that held sway in lowlier, yet, perhaps, in happier days; and, although rarely a guest at Cecil Place, he continued a stanch friend to the family, to whom he had, upon several occasions, extended the simple hospitalities of Hampton Court. Towards the Lady Constance, his sentiments of respect and regard had been frequently and markedly expressed. When he beheld the fading beauty of the mother reviving with added graces and attraction in the fair form and expressive countenance of the daughter, it was with feelings of pride, unusual to him, that he remembered his wife had been among the first to cherish and estimate the promise which the youth had given, and which the coming womanhood of Constance was surely about to fulfil. Moreover, two sons of Sir Robert had fought and died by the side of the Protector, having been schooled in arms under his own eye; and had there been no other motive for his interference, he was not a man to have looked on the dead features of his brave companions, and have felt no interest in the relations who survived them. To the only remaining scion of a brave and honourable race, Cromwell, therefore, had many reasons for extending his protection and his regard. Sir Robert, perhaps, he considered more as an instrument than as a friend; for Cromwell, like every other great statesman, employed friends sometimes as tools, yet tools never as friends--a distinction that rulers in all countries would do well to observe. It is an old and a true saying, "that a place showeth the man;" few, at that time, could look upon the Protector, either in a moral or political point of view, without a blending of astonishment and admiration at his sudden elevation and extraordinary power; and, more especially, at his amazing influence over all who came within the magic circle of which he was the centre. Burrell of Burrell he regarded as a clever, but a dangerous man; and was not, perhaps, sorry to believe that his union with so true a friend to the Commonwealth as Constance Cecil would convert him from a doubtful adherent, into a confirmed partisan, and gain over to his cause many of the wavering, but powerful families of Kent and Sussex, with whom he was connected. Burrell, however, had succeeded in satisfying Cromwell that the proposed union had the full consent and approbation, not only of Sir Robert Cecil, but of his daughter. The protracted illness of Lady Cecil had much estranged Constance from her friends; and, as the subject was never alluded to in any of the letters that passed between her and her godmother, it was considered that the marriage was not alone one of policy, but to which, if the heart of Constance were not a party, her mind was by no means averse. Of the Protector's views upon these several topics, Burrell was fully aware; and he dreaded the discovery, not only of his own conduct, but of the feelings that existed towards him on the part of his affianced bride; there were other topics that did not so readily occur to the mind of Burrell, but that would have been of themselves sufficiently weighty to have confirmed his worst fears for his own safety--the Protector's stern love of justice, and his especial loathing of that vice of which the villain had been guilty. Had the Jew, Ben Israel, and the maiden, Constance Cecil, been indifferent persons in his sight, the double treachery of Burrell would have been requited upon his head. Next to Hugh Dalton, no man possessed so unbounded, and, so apparently, unaccountable, an influence over Sir Robert Cecil as Sir Willmott Burrell: he knew, as we have elsewhere stated, many of his secrets, and shrewdly guessed at others of more weighty import; while, with the ready sagacity of an accomplished knave, he contrived to appear well acquainted with matters of which he was altogether ignorant, but the existence of which he had abundant reasons for suspecting. The enfeebled health and growing infirmities of the baronet rendered him an easy prey to his wily acquaintance, who, driven to his last resource, resolved upon adopting any course that might save him from destruction, by inducing Sir Robert, not only to sanction, but command an immediate marriage with his daughter. In commencing the conversation with Burrell, Sir Robert peevishly complained of the annoyance to which he had been subjected in receiving and accommodating the young friend of Major Wellmore, although he abstained from the indulgence of feelings similar to those he had exhibited in the presence of his daughter. He then murmured bitterly of sleepless nights--of restless days--of watchings and weariness--of hideous dreams--of the toils, turmoils, and unfaithfulness of the world--the usual theme of those who have done nothing to merit its fidelity; and, as Sir Willmott Burrell looked upon him, he marvelled at the change that but a few weeks had wrought in his appearance; his mind seemed so enfeebled, that he deemed it even more altered than his body. He was, moreover, much astonished to find that he dwelt so little upon his recent and most heavy loss; for the attachment between Sir Robert Cecil and his wife had been remarkable at a time when domestic happiness was even the court fashion. But here Burrell was at fault; he knew nothing of the position in which Sir Robert at present stood with regard to Hugh Dalton, and was therefore ignorant of the positive peril by which he was encompassed: a peril so great and so immediate, as to render him, in a degree, insensible to the affliction under which he had so recently and so painfully laboured. Often, in his dreary night watches, when sleep set no seal upon his aching lids, or when they closed for a little over the strained and worn eyeballs, and then opened in terror at frightful images that haunted his fevered fancy--often, at such times had he endeavoured to offer up a thanksgiving, that she was gone from the wrath, the avenging horrors--the approach of which he dreaded a thousand times more than death. The application that had been made to the Protector for Dalton's pardon, had been treated as he expected; and his only chance of accomplishing the object of the Buccaneer, now rested on the possibility of his gaining over certain persons of the court, to exert their influence with Cromwell in the outlaw's behalf. Sir Robert's personal interest did not extend far, but the influence of his gold did. The Protector could free himself from outward sinners, but he could not rid himself of the more smooth, and consequently more dangerous, villains, generated by the peculiar forms and habits of the times. To some of these, Sir Robert had secretly offered temptation in every way: the stake was large, the danger certain; for he well knew the inflexibility of Dalton's character, and that he would not fail to perform that upon which he had resolved. It had occurred to him, more than once, to consult Burrell on the subject; but a dread of his future son-in-law, for which he could not account, had hitherto prevented his naming to him the Buccaneer's desire to be a legalised commander. His anxiety to carry his point now, however, overcame his timidity, and he resolved to speak to him on the matter, at the very time the knight had decided on addressing the baronet--under equal weighty circumstances--on the subject of his marriage. Unfortunately for Sir Robert Cecil, he was the first to unfold his plan; and thus gave the wily Burrell another and a firmer hold than he had yet possessed. After repinings over his health, and murmurs against mankind, had somewhat lessened that secret and consuming misery that enveloped him as with a winding sheet, he inquired if Burrell had lately encountered a man they must both remember,--Hugh Dalton,--a bold, but reckless fellow, who had played cavalier, buccaneer, and a thousand other characters in turn--all characters, in fact, save that of a coward. Burrell replied in the negative; but confessed he knew the man had been upon the coast; cunningly adding, that since his affections had been so entirely fixed upon Constantia, he had given up every connection, every idea, that might hereafter draw him from a home where all blessings would be united. Sir Robert was never insensible to his daughter's praise, but it did not prevent his continuing the subject. He stated that Dalton was a clever, experienced seaman;--that his knowledge of foreign seas and foreign affairs in general might be made most useful to government, if government would avail itself of such advantages;--that the Buccaneer was a bitter thorn in the side of the Protector, as he had been known to convey malcontents to England, as well as to ship them off;--that his Fire-fly might be termed a meteor of the waters, now here, now there, shining like a blazing star--stealing like a moon-beam--in the Texel, in the Thames, in the Baltic, or the Black Sea--as occasion required; everywhere when mischief was doing, nowhere when it was to be remedied:--that all this evil might be avoided by giving Dalton a pardon and the command of a Commonwealth ship; that he would accept, indeed he (Sir Robert) was sure that he desired, such an employment, and that it would be a grievous thing for the state if an arrangement could not be made to purchase his future services and his good conduct at so small a price. Burrell was astonished, but saw clearly enough that there must be some covert motive for such deep and unaccountable anxiety: he dexterously set forth the various arguments that might be urged by government against a man of Dalton's character; the ill example, the dangerous precedent of one so circumstanced taking his place amongst honourable men, and so forth; mooting a variety of points, in order that he might judge of Sir Robert's object by his manner of answering objections. The baronet was caught in the toils; he betrayed so much anxiety, so much panting eagerness in the Buccaneer's behalf, as to satisfy Burrell that hardly any thing less than a cause of life and death could create such intense earnestness on such a subject in a person who seemed balancing between this world and the next. Various surmises and conjectures, which he had heard in former times, strengthened the opinion. Having assured himself upon this point, he ventured upon one of those daring falsehoods that had hitherto been the principal means of his success: he assured the baronet, in the most solemn manner, that he had a secret way, one which he could not explain, but it was a species of promise for service performed, of winning from Cromwell the desired pardon and appointment;--that he had avoided asking such a favour until something particular occurred, something of deep value and importance;--that he was willing to sacrifice his own prospects to oblige his friend; and the only favour he asked in return was one that, though above all price in his estimation, could be easily bestowed by Sir Robert Cecil--the immediate gift of his daughter's hand. He did not wish her feelings to be wounded by a public ceremony so shortly after the loss they had all sustained; nay, he would prefer receiving her from her father in the ruined but beautiful little chapel that belonged to the house: all he requested, all he entreated, was that the marriage should be speedy. Then, with the power of one deeply skilled in deceitfulness, he wound up the whole by tender allusions to the weakness, the precariousness of Sir Robert's health, and the despair he might experience on his death-bed, if he expired with the knowledge that his beloved, and only child, had no earthly protector. Sir Robert remembered his promise to his wife, that he would never urge his daughter's marriage with Burrell; and although he avoided noticing this as an apology to the knight, yet he firmly stated his dislike to press Constantia on the subject; and earnestly inquired if there were no other way by which he could show his gratitude than by interfering in the matter, at all events, until the year of mourning for Lady Cecil had expired. Burrell feigned astonishment at this reply: the hand of Mistress Cecil, he said, had long been betrothed to him; he confessed that he did not think Sir Robert would for a moment have hesitated to comply with his most reasonable request: he urged various motives for hastening the union, and finally entreated the baronet's permission to address his daughter herself on the subject. To this Sir Robert offered no opposition; he was ignorant of the strength of Constantia's feelings with regard to Burrell. She had been affianced to him in her early girlhood, when much too young to have an opinion on the matter; and as the union had never been pressed upon her, she had not been called upon to state any objections to it. Her poor mother had seen, with the clearness of a mother's love, that the marriage would never tend to her child's happiness: she had observed both characters narrowly, and was perfectly convinced of Burrell's worthlessness. She could not impress this conviction on Sir Robert's mind; but in her last moments she extorted from him the promise that he would never urge the union. This was, as we have seen, all she could obtain; and Sir Robert was content to "keep the word of promise to the ear," without reference to the sense. Burrell seemed perfectly satisfied with the permission he had obtained, and left Sir Robert in the library, expressing his determination to speak to Mistress Cecil on the subject that evening. "And he will make her a very affectionate husband," mused Sir Robert, after his departure: "how can he do otherwise? But I do not interfere in it; I know she has no other attachment; and my Constantia's sense of duty will oblige her to love her husband. Oh, yes, she will be happy--happy--happy"--he said, as if the repetition of the word could give birth to the feeling. It was the clear and balmy twilight; the sun had left the west in glory, and the delicious breeze of evening was mingling among the young leaves of the shrubs and trees; all appeared in contentment and at peace, when the Lady Frances Cromwell and Constance sat together upon a mossy bank, but a few yards distant from the house, yet so overshadowed by venerable trees, that not a turret nor a vestige of the building was to be seen. The spot they had chosen for their resting-place was known as "the Fairy Ring:" it was a circular mound, girdled by evergreens, which, in their turn, were belted by forest-trees, that spread in an opposite direction to the house, into what was called the Ash Copse. The dark green of our winter shrub, the spotted laurustinus, was relieved by the golden tassels of the laburnum, just opening into bloom; the hawthorn contended for beauty and perfume with the delicate blossoms of the purple lilac; while its modest sister, the white, sent forth her pale green leaves, and delicate buds, over a bed of double violets:-- "Where all the earth beneath--the heaven above, Teem'd with the earliest spring of joyous youth, Sunshine, and flowers, and vague, and virgin love." The quiet and serenity of the evening communicated its tone and character to the buoyant mind of Lady Frances Cromwell. "I am sober as the twilight, Constance, because I have been thinking of sober matters. Alas! alas! we have all our twilights.--Youth's twilight is soft and perfumed as that which hovers over us,--tranquil--but it is the tranquillity of hope. The twilight of middle life is, methinks, nearly allied to that of an autumn evening,--doubts hover and come upon us as the falling leaves; the wind whistles like the wailing of departing days; there is but little tranquillity then, because the hope that is left is enough to agitate by its vain dreams, but not to soothe. What shall I say of the twilight of age? I do not like to think of it--its tranquillity appears to me so closely linked with despair." "No, Frances, not despair: it is only the moody and abstracted silence of guilt that claims such awful kindred. I think age more beautiful--more hope-giving, than youth; though its beauty is far different, and its hope sublime, instead of joyous. Ask the most prosperous--the most fortunate man in existence--one on whom the eyes of the whole world are turned in admiration and its attendant, envy--ask such a one if he would live over his life again, and he will answer, 'No!'" "This speaks badly for the happiness of life," said Lady Frances. "I do not think it does," replied Constantia; "every evil has either a remedy or an anodyne: but, unfortunately, we are more prone to dwell upon evils than upon blessings--yet this should make us less satisfied with earth, as we draw nearer heaven." "Constance, are you a philosopher?" "No; for I am a woman! and what is called philosophy is sadly at war with both our mental and our bodily endowments. I have heard there are lands in which certain persons think they confer honour upon our sex, by mixing us more up with the bustle and turmoil of the world--methinks they would strangely pervert our natures." "I agree with you, Constance: let men have all the public, and women all the private business of life to manage, and my word on 't, the balance of power is with us. Our tongues have enough to do at home, without chattering in high places; and as to our arms! mine could ill wield battle-axe or broadsword. I suppose these people of whom you speak would invent a new sex to look after domestic matters, while we assist in the broil and the battle! We shall lose our influence, depend on 't, the moment we are taken out of our sphere--we shall lose caste as women, and be treated with contempt as men. What _I_ like, Constance, is to have my own dear little way, by my own pretty little manoeuvres--behind the bush--thrust another into the breach, and then, if evil arise, the man gets the blame, while I retreat in safety." "Then the Lady Frances would take one of the other sex as a shield?" "Yes, Constance; they would do as well to be shot at as ourselves, you know." "Ah, Frances, you are no true woman, unless, if there were real danger, you would thrust yourself between it and the life a thousand times more precious than your own. Suppose, for instance, that sudden danger menaced the life of----" "Hush, dear Constantia; the idea of such an event is enough. It is easier to sacrifice life when the sacrifice is demanded by affection, than to resign one selfish indulgence." "Ah! because, in the first case, we gratify ourselves; in the second, others." "You are a mental chemist, Constance: but here comes the maid called Barbara, with hoods and cardinals, signifying that the dew is falling, though we feel it not." "I sought you, mistress," said Barbara, "all over the house, for Sir Willmott Burrell advised me that he wished to speak with you in the oak parlour, if it so please you, or in the library; my honoured master was present." "Did my father too want me?" "No, madam; he said he would go to his chamber, for a little, before the evening meal." The young ladies, followed by Barbara, entered the house, and, as Frances Cromwell pressed Constantia's hand, she felt it clammy and chilling cold: she would have spoken, but, while arranging the necessary words, her friend, with a more than usually dignified deportment, entered the parlour. It was a dark, dim room, the frettings and ornaments of black carved oak. "Tell Sir Willmott Burrell I await him here," she said to Barbara, while passing the threshold. Frances Cromwell, over whose mind a feeling of terror was imperceptibly stealing, would have remained, but Constance intimated that she would receive Burrell alone. CHAPTER XIII. ----I am sworn brother now To grim Necessity; and he and I Will keep a league till death. SHAKSPEARE. "My blood seems to curdle in my veins," murmured Constance, as she rubbed the palm of one hand against the back of the other; "my very blood seems to curdle in my veins, and a shadow, as of the vampire's wing, is over me. But why is this? Is God less present with me here than beneath the heavenly atmosphere I have just now breathed?" And then she uttered a few words of prayer, so earnestly, that Burrell had entered the room before she was aware of his presence. "You are not well," he observed, seating himself in a chair beside that into which she had sunk: "I hope I do not disturb you unpleasantly. You keep watch too anxiously by your father's couch." "I am better now," she replied; "but that of which you speak, my thought of the living and the dead, although it may have somewhat touched my health, has been my happiest duty." "Perhaps you would rather hear what I have to say to-morrow," he observed, a momentary feeling of sympathy forcing itself upon his mind, as he noticed her white lip, and still whiter cheek. "I pray you, sir," she replied proudly, "to proceed: I am as ready now as I can be on the morrow to listen to aught it may be your pleasure to advance. Your observations, if it please you, now." "I have no 'observations' to offer, Mistress Cecil,--may I say Constance? for so I used to call you in the early days of our betrothment,--though I have much to request. I confess, I have felt hurt, and aggrieved, at the small show of courtesy you have vouchsafed me; but, as I believe that sorrow, and an habitual reserve, have wrought this manner, I do not blame, though I regret it deeply. The time, I hope, fair lady, is not far distant when you will ratify my claim to your hand; then the devotedness of my future life,--the entireness of my attachment,--the depth of my love----" "Sir Willmott Burrell," interrupted Constantia, "_the grass upon my mother's grave is not yet green; and would you talk of love?_" For a moment the knight was silent. "Reasons--reasons that I will explain hereafter, make me exceedingly desire that the contract should be immediately fulfilled. Nay, lady, do not start, and shudder," he continued, taking her hand, that hung listlessly, and without motion, within his grasp; "even should you not love as I do, affection will make you all mine own, within a little time." "Believe it not, Sir Willmott," said Constantia, at length disengaging her hand; "I can never love you." Men have been accustomed, in all ages, to hear simple truths, of such a description, declared in so simple a manner. Ladies rant, and protest that they abhor and abominate,--or they weep, and shriek, and call the gentleman odious, or horrid, or some such gentle name; which the said gentleman perfectly understands to mean--any thing he pleases; but Constantia's perfect truth, the plain earnestness of that brief sentence, carried conviction with it; and the handsome Burrell paced three or four times the length of the oak parlour, before he could sufficiently bring his mortified feelings under necessary subjection: he then resumed his seat. "I think otherwise; a woman can but require devoted affection, constant watchfulness, and tender solicitude. All, all this will be yours. Besides, a daughter of the house of Cecil would not break faith. I could _command_ your hand--I only solicit it." "Sir Willmott, you well know, that when the unhappy contract was entered into, I was of tender age; too young, indeed, to comprehend its nature. Ought you in honour to urge it on me, when I frankly tell you by word of mouth, what my demeanour must have informed you long, long since, that--I can never love you?" "You have said it once, lady; and the sentence cannot be pleasant to the ears of your affianced husband. The turmoils of the times, and the service I so largely owed to the Protector, have called me much from home; and though my heart lingered here, I was forced away by duty to the state: surely you would not love me less because it was rigidly performed?" "You would not wish me your wife," said Constance, in a faltering tone, resolving to make trial of Sir Willmott's generosity, while her strength seemed to rise with her honest purpose,--"you would not wish me your wife; for not only do I not love you, but--I love--another." Now, Sir Willmott Burrell did not start from his chair, nor did he pace up and down the polished floor,--he fixed his eyes upon Constantia, as if he would have read within her soul _who_ she loved; but the expression gradually changed, from a deep and perilous curiosity, to one of firm resolve, until, drawing his breath between his set teeth, he said, slowly and deliberately, but in a restrained tone, as if the voice came from the fiend within him,-- "I am sorry for it, Constantia Cecil; for it cannot prevent your being mine--mine--and, by the God that hears me, mine only, and for ever!" Constantia rose slowly from her seat, and said, in a firm voice, "I did not come here to suffer insult, sir." She walked across the room with so dignified a step, that she had nearly reached the door, before Burrell acquired sufficient courage to stay her departure. He laid his hand on her arm as she touched the lock, but she shook it off as coolly, yet as firmly, as the apostle threw from him the viper into the flames at Melita. Burrell, however, had too much at stake tamely to relinquish his purpose. He spoke in a constrained voice, and said,-- "I entreat you to remain; if it be not for your own good, it will be for your father's that you do so." The mention of her father's name at once commanded her attention. She desired Burrell to speak on; without, however, resuming her seat. He paused for so considerable a time that she at length observed,-- "I wait, Sir Willmott, and will wait patiently, if it be necessary: but methinks your silence now is as uncourteous as your speech a brief while since." "It is because I feel for you, Mistress Cecil,--feel for you acutely, that I thus hesitate. I would spare you the pain I know my words must inflict; and therefore, once more, calmly, but energetically, implore you to consent to the immediate fulfilment of the contract existing between us." "This is trifling, sir. I desire that you suffer me to pass forth. I might have known you had nothing to say that concerned my father; and, as to myself, if you could be mean enough, under such circumstances, to accept my hand, I cannot be base enough to give it." "A fine sentence!" exclaimed Burrell, sneeringly. "I make bold to tell you, lady, I care not so much as you may imagine for your affections, which I know you have sufficient principle to recall, and bestow upon the possessor of that fair hand, whoever he may be. Nay, look not so wrathful, for I know _that_ which would make your proud look quail, and the heiress of Cecil rejoice that she could yet become the wife of Sir Willmott Burrell!" Constantia trembled. She had never before listened to such language; and she felt there must be something appalling in the motive that could give it utterance. Although her hand rested on the massive lock of the door, she had not power to turn the handle. If looks could wither, the Master of Burrell would have shrunk before her gaze; yet he bore her indignant frown with more audacity than he could have believed he possessed. "If your communication concerns my father, speak, sir; if not,"--she paused, and he took up the sentence-- "If not, Constantia casts me off for ever! Yet," he added, in a tone of insulting pity, "I would spare your feelings, for you have been a most affectionate child." "Sir," interrupted Constance, "I hope I am too true a daughter to hear those taunts with patience: your insinuations I despise, and I _defy_ you to utter an accusation against him that could summon a tint of crimson to my cheek!" "But I could speak _that_ which would make the red cheek pale, lady--what think you of--of--of MURDER?" Constantia's eye gleamed for a moment, like a meteor, and then it became fixed and faded; her form assumed the rigidity of marble, and at each respiration her lips fell more and more apart. The villain became alarmed, and, taking her hand, would have led her to a seat; but his touch recalled her to herself: she darted from him to the centre of the room, and there, her arm extended, her fine head thrown back, every feature, as it were, bursting with indignation, she looked like a youthful priestess denouncing vengeance on a sinful world. "If I could curse," she said, "you should feel it heavily; but the evil within you will do its own work, and my soul be saved from sin. Away! away! And you thought to fright me with that horrid sound! My dear, dear father!" "I declare before Heaven," interrupted Burrell, "it is to save him I speak! The damning proofs of his guilt are within my hold. If you perform the contract, neither tortures nor death shall wring them from me; if you do not--mark me--I will be revenged!" "Silly, wicked that I was," exclaimed Constance, "not to command you before him instantly, that the desperate lie might be sent back into your throat, and choke you with its venom! Come with me to my father!--Ah, foul coward! you shrink, but you shall not escape!--To my father instantly!" Burrell would have restrained her, but it was impossible. Finding that he did not move, she was rushing past him, when he arrested her progress for an instant, saying,-- "Since you will thus dare the destruction of your only parent, it is fitting you know of whose murder he is accused." He drew nearer to her, so near that she felt his hateful breath upon her cheek, as, like the serpent in the garden of Eden, he distilled the deadly poison into her ear. A slight convulsion, succeeded by an awful paleness, passed over her countenance; but, rallying, she darted on him another look of defiance and scorn, and flew to her father's chamber. The old man had been sleeping, but awoke as she entered, and probably refreshed by the short repose he had enjoyed, stretched forward his arms to his daughter with an expression of confiding fondness, which, in the then state of Constantia's feelings, but added to the agony she endured. She could not resist the mute appeal; falling on her knees, she buried her face amid the drapery of his robe. In this posture she continued for a few minutes: her lips uttered no word, but her bosom heaved as if in mortal struggle, and her hard breathings were almost groans. At length, still kneeling, she raised her head, her hands clasped, her swollen but tearless eyes fixed upon the pale, anxious, and alarmed countenance of her parent. He would have spoken, but she raised her finger in token that she entreated silence; a moment afterwards she addressed him in broken and disjointed sentences. "I can hardly give it utterance--and when I think upon it, I know not why I should intrude so vile a falsehood on your ear, my father; but Burrell seemed so real, so fearfully real in what he said, that I tremble still, and my voice comes heavily to my lips." She paused for breath, and pressed her clasped hands on her bosom. Sir Robert, imagining that she alluded to her marriage, which he knew Burrell must have been urging upon her, replied,-- "My dearest child knows that I have not pressed her union; but Sir Willmott is so anxious--so attached--and, I must say, that my grey hairs would go peacefully to the grave were I to see her his wife. I am almost inclined to think my Constance capricious and unjust upon this point; but I am sure her own good sense, her regard for her father----" "Merciful powers!" interrupted Constance, wildly; "and is it really possible that you knew of his proposal? Ay, ay, you might have known _that_, but you could not know the awful, the horrid threat he held out to me, if I did not comply with his demand--ay, _demand_ for an immediate union? "It was very imprudent, very useless, in fact," said the baronet, peevishly, his mind reverting to the proposals of the Buccaneer, which he believed Burrell had communicated to Constantia; "very absurd to trouble you with the knowledge he possesses of my affairs--that is strange wooing--but good will arise from it, for you will now, knowing the great, the overpowering motive that I have for seeing your union accomplished----" The baronet's sentence remained unfinished, for the look and manner of his daughter terrified him. She had risen from her knees, and stood, her eyelids straining from her glaring eyes, that were fixed upon her father, while her hands were extended, as if to shut out the figure upon which she still gazed. "It is all madness--moon-struck madness," she exclaimed, and her arms dropped at either side as she spoke; "some cruel witchery surrounds me; but I will speak and break the spell. Father, you are not a murderer? you did not murder----" and she, too, whispered a name, as if it were one that the breath of heaven should not bear. The baronet sprang from his seat, as if a musket ball had entered his heart. "'T is false!" he exclaimed; "there is no blood upon my hand--look at it--look at it! Burrell has no proofs--unless that villain Dalton has betrayed me," he added, in a lower tone; "but I did not the act, the blood is on _his_ head, and not on mine. Constance, my child, the only thing on earth _now_ that can love me, do not curse--do not spurn me. I ask not your sacrifice, that I may be saved;--but do not curse me--do not curse your father." The haughty baronet fell, humbled to the dust, at his daughter's feet, clasping her knees in awful emotion, but daring not to look upon the face of his own child. It would be as vain to attempt, as it would be impossible to analyse, the feelings of that high-souled woman during moments of such intense misery. She neither spoke nor wept; nor did she assist her father, by any effort, to arise; but, without a sentence or a word, folding her mourning robe around her, she glided like a ghost forth from the chamber. When she returned, her step had lost its elasticity, and her eye its light; she moved as if in a heavy atmosphere, and her father did not dare to look upon her, as she seated herself by the chair he had resumed. She took his hand, and put it, but did not press it, to her lips: he thought he felt a tear drop upon his burning fingers; but the long hair that fell over her brow concealed her face. He was the first to break the dreadful and oppressive stillness. "I would speak with Burrell: there must have been treachery. Of himself, believe me, he knew nothing: but I was so taken by surprise, that I did not consider----" "Stop, sir, I entreat you," interrupted Constance. "There is now no motive for consideration. I have just seen, and promised to be the wife of Sir Willmott Burrell within this week--and three of its days are already past:--_his_ silence, and _your honour_ are secured." The unhappy man was powerless and subdued; he hid his face amid the pillows of the chair, and wept bitterly. Constance walked to the window: the beams of the silver moon dwelt with more than usual brightness on the tops and around the foliage of the trees that encircled the Fairy Ring, where, but an hour before, her footsteps had lingered with her friend. All around seemed buried in the most profound stillness; not the bay of a dog, nor the hum of an insect, disturbed the repose that slept on every plant and flower, and covered the earth as with a garment. Suddenly a nightingale flew past the window, and resting its breast on the bough of an old thorn, poured forth a delicious strain of melody. Constance leaned her throbbing forehead against the cold stained-glass, and the tenderness of the wild bird's untaught music penetrated her soul; large tears flowed down her cheeks, and her seared heart was relieved, for a little, of its overwhelming horrors. She then returned to her father's side; and again taking his hand in hers, said, in a calmer voice, "Father, we have both need of consolation--let us read and pray together." "It is too late to attempt deceiving you longer, Constance; yet I would fain explain----." "Not now, father. We will pray." "And you will be happy; or if not, you will not curse him who has wrought your misery?" "I have too much need of blessing. Bless, bless you, my father!--Let us now seek consolation where only it is to be found." "But may I not speak with Burrell? I want to know----" "Father! I entreat you, peace. It is now useless; the die is cast--for me--for us--in this world--useless all, except the aid that, under any trials, we can ask and receive from Heaven." "My child, call me your dear father, as you were wont; and let your soft lips press upon my hand as there were fondness in them. You said you would not curse me, Constance." "Bless, bless you, my _dear_ father!" She kissed his hand; and having lighted the chamber lamp, read one of the penitential psalms of the King of Israel, when sin, and the wretchedness that follows sin, became too heavy for him to bear. "And now let us pray," said Constantia, conceiving that her father's mind was more composed; "let us offer up petitions to the source of all mercy and forgiveness." "I cannot pray," he said; "my lips may move, but my heart is hardened." "We will learn of Him who softened the stony rock, that the children of promise might taste of the living waters in a strange land." And her earnest and beautiful prayer floated to the Almighty's throne, from that dull and heavy chamber, a record of the faithful and self-sacrificing spirit whose purest earthly temple is a woman's heart. CHAPTER XIV. Yet, spite of all that Nature did To make his uncouth form forbid, This creature dared to love. * * * * * * But virtue can itself advance To what the favourite fools of chance By fortune seem design'd. PARNELL. "Is your sweet lady out yet, pretty Barbara?" inquired Robin Hays of Barbara Iverk, as he met her in the flower-garden of Cecil Place, when it was nearly midday. "My poor lady is, I am sure, very ill; or, what is still worse, ill at ease," replied the maiden. "She has not been in bed all night, I know, for the couch was undisturbed this morning, so I just came here to gather her some flowers: fresh flowers must always do one good, and I think I never saw so many in bloom so early." "Barbara, did you ever hear tell of a country they call the East?" "A country!" repeated Barbara, whose knowledge of geography was somewhat more extensive than that of Robin, although she had not travelled so much, "I believe there are many countries in the East." "Well, I dare say there may be. Mistress Barbara: you are going to chop scholarship with me; but yet, I suppose, you do not know that they have in that country a new way of making love. It is not new to them, though it is new to us." "Oh, dear Robin! what is it?" "Why, suppose they wished you, a young pretty maiden as you are, to understand that I, a small deformed dragon, regarded you, only a little, like the beginning of love, they would--" Robin stooped as he spoke, and plucked a rose-bud that had anticipated summer--"they would give you this bud. But, suppose they wanted you to believe I loved you very much indeed, they would choose you out a full-blown rose. Barbara, I cannot find a full-blown rose; but I do not love you the less for that." "Give me the bud, Robin, whether or no; it is the first of the season:--my lady will be delighted with it--if, indeed, any thing can delight her!" "I will give it you to keep; not to give away, even to your lady. Ah, Barbara! if I had any thing worth giving, you would not refuse it." "And can any thing be better worth giving, or having, than sweet flowers?" said the simple girl. "Only it pains me to pull them--they die so soon--and then, every leaf that falls away from them, looks like a reproach!" "Should you be sorry if I were to die one of these days, Barbara," inquired the Ranger, "like one of those flowers?" "Sorry! have I ever appeared ungrateful, Robin? When first I came here, you used to be so kind me:--indeed, you are always kind--only I fear lately you are displeased with me about something or other. You have avoided me--are you angry, Robin?" "Indeed I am not; nor do I forget how often you have driven away the 'shadows' that used to come over me." "And do you--I mean, do you esteem me as much as ever?" Robin looked earnestly into her face, and then taking her hand, gently replied:-- "I do esteem you, as you term it, more than ever; but I also love you. When a little helpless thing, I took you from your father's arms: I loved you then as a parent would love a child. When Lady Cecil took you under her care, and I saw you but seldom, my heart leaned towards the daughter of my best friend with a brother's love. And when, as I have just said, the sunlight of your smile, and the gentleness of your young girlish voice, dispelled much melancholy from my mind, I thought--no matter what. But now the case is altered--you see in me a mere lump, a deformed creature, a being unseemly to look upon, a wretch----!" "Robin Hays, you wrong yourself," interrupted Barbara; "I do not see you thus, nor think you thus. The raven is not a beautiful bird, nor hath it a sweet voice, yet it was welcomed and beloved of the prophet Elijah." "So it was, Barbara; but why?--because it was _useful_ to him in his hour of need. Think you that, in the time of his triumph and prosperity, he would have taken it to his bosom, as if it had been a dove?" "I do not see why he should not," she said: "God is so good, that he never takes away one beauty without bestowing another; and the raven's glossy wing might be, to some, even more beautiful than the purple plumage of the dove: at all events, so excellent a man would not be chained by mere eye-beauty, which, after all, passeth quickly. Though I think it was very uncourteous of Mr. Fleetword to say, in my hearing, Robin, that the time would come when Mistress Constance would be as plain-favoured as old Dame Compton, whose countenance looks like the worm-eaten cover of Solomon Grundy's Bible." "Ah, Barbara! you are a good girl: but suppose I was as rich as I ought to be before thinking of marrying--and supposing you came to the knowledge of your father, and he agreed--and supposing Mistress Cecil did not say nay--supposing all this----?" Robin paused, and Barbara, with her eyes fixed on the ground, commenced pulling to pieces the rose-bud he had given her. "Supposing all this, Barbara----?" "Well, Robin?" "Do you think, Barbara, you would then--marry me?" "I never thought of marriage, seeing that I am too young, and, withal, too inexperienced; but there is one thing, Robin----" "I knew it," interrupted the Ranger, in one of his sudden bursts of bitterness; "I might easily have known it--Beauty and ugliness!--Fool! fool! to imagine that a girl could look on me without loathing! There--go to your mistress, go to your mistress, and make gay sport of Robin Hays!" The soft eyes of Barbara filled with tears; she made no reply, but prosecuted her attack on the rose-bud so vigorously, that nought but the stem remained in her fingers. "You need not have torn that rose to bits before my face! Ay, trample on its leaves as you do on my heart!--Why do you not go to your mistress?" "You are very wayward, Robin; one time smooth, at other times, and without cause, rugged as a path through a thorny common: I can only pray that the Lord may teach you better than to misinterpret my words, and mock a poor girl who never entertained a thought to your disadvantage." She could say no more, for the large round tears forced their way down her cheeks, as she turned towards the house with a bowed head and a feeble step. But Robin's mood had again changed. "I beg your pardon, Barbara: forgive me; and think, that if my mind sometimes takes a crooked turn, it is the fault of my damnable body!" "Do not swear; it is the profaneness of your words, and, I fear me too truly, of your life also, that hurts me. Oh, Robin! do tell me who my father is, that I may find him, and have some heart to lean upon that will not always cause me tears. My lady is ever sad, and you are ever wayward and uncertain: I am a double orphan; and were it not for the consolation afforded me by better thoughts, should be most miserable." "Forgive me, girl, forgive me; but every one alludes to this cursed deformity, and it is ill to bear--" said Robin, walking by her side. "I never alluded to it, never even thought of it," replied Barbara, sobbing: "if the voice and the eye is kind, and, above all, if the face become familiar, it is one, all one, whether the features be formed according to beauty or otherwise. I never thought of looking into little Crisp's face, when he licked my hand but now; I only felt that the creature loved me." "Crisp is no more a beauty than his master," observed Robin, patting the dog, who leaped to the caress: "but you cannot like him as well as black Blanche, or Bright-eye, your mistress's silken favourites, who show their teeth at the poor fellow whenever he approaches the entrance?" "Bright-eye is a trifle conceited, I grant; but Blanche is like a lamb, only what can she do? Crisp comes gammocking up, wagging his tail, seeming in the best of good humours; poor Blanche receives him kindly, and sometimes walks before him to the buttery; then, all of a sudden, just as she is thinking how very glad she is to meet Crisp--thinking, too, that notwithstanding his shaggy coat and crooked legs, he is a thousand times more to be esteemed and liked than the fine and conceited Bright-eye--at that very time, and just as suddenly as you fly into your passions, Crisp stops, grins, twirls his tail, and will neither return her civility nor accept her invitation. What can poor Blanche do, Robin?" This statement was made by the pretty Puritan with a mingling of simplicity and shrewdness, for which, to have looked in her innocent face, one would scarcely have given her credit. The tears of youth dry as quickly as the dews in summer; and the young heart rebounds from grief as swiftly as the arrow from the bow. Robin looked upon her with doubting, but with strong affection. He knew, though he struggled with hope against the conviction, that Dalton's friendship would hardly induce him to bestow his daughter upon such an unpropitious personage as himself; and he felt assured--or, at least, believed, in his more gloomy moments, that so it must be--no woman could, by any possibility, feel affection for him. He was also, at times, under the full assurance that Barbara only laughed at his addresses; and though she had more than once given him all reasonable encouragement, he most industriously placed it to the account of the universality of female coquetry, a theory in which he most conscientiously believed. Without, therefore, any notice of her little fable, or the visible inference so easily drawn from the comparison between Crisp and himself, he started off from the subject nearest his heart, with an abrupt inquiry as to whether her mistress would be likely to go abroad that evening. "I dare say she will come out in the twilight," replied Barbara, who had sufficient of the sensitiveness of her sex to feel deeply mortified at Robin's heedlessness of her delicate allusion, adding, "Good day; I cannot stay any longer with you; so give you good day;" and she added in a lower tone, "a more gentle humour when next we meet." Woman's pride impelled her footsteps with extraordinary alacrity; woman's affection, or curiosity, both of which are oftentimes at war with her reason, obliged her to look back as she entered the postern, and then she enjoyed the little triumph of observing that Robin remained on the same spot gazing after her. "I don't think I said any thing very unkind to him," she thought while passing along the gallery. "I have a great mind to go back and ask him if he wanted to send any message to my lady; I did not give the poor fellow time to speak--I ought not to serve anyone so. What would good Mr. Fleetword say, if he knew I spoke so snappishly to any fellow-christian?--Keep your cold nose away from my hand, Master Bright-eye; you forget how you behaved to my friend Crisp yesterday." Just as she arrived at this point of her soliloquy, she stood before a window, overlooking the part of the garden where she had left Robin.--He was no longer there! and the fond heart of little Barbara, at once forgetful of the harshness and waywardness of her early friend, was only aroused from profound reasoning upon her own unworthiness, by a smart tap on the shoulder from the fair hand of Lady Frances Cromwell. "Pretty Barbara in meditation!" she exclaimed;--"but this is no time to ask upon what or why. What is the meaning of your lady's sudden resolve?" "What resolve, madam?" "Why, a resolve to marry Sir Willmott Burrell within this week." Barbara was panic-struck: she remained silent for a few minutes, and then clasping her hands, implored Lady Frances to do--she knew not what. "Ah! she will die, my lady, she will die! for who could live married to such a man? He is, indeed, a fearful husband for such a one. My lady, I know she does not love him--she never did--never could. I have heard her say in her sleep----" "What, good maid?" asked Lady Frances eagerly, and with her usual curiosity. But the habitual integrity of Barbara's mind was awakened: with tears and sobs she replied,-- "What I must not, as a true girl, repeat. I crave your pardon, my lady, but it would ill become me to speak of what is said in sleep: only, dear, dear lady, if you love my dear mistress--if her life be dear to you--prevent, if possible, this marriage." CHAPTER XV. And them beside a ladie faire he saw, Standing alone on foote in foule array; To whom himself he hastily did draw, To weet the cause of so uncomely fray, And to depart them, if so be he may. SPENSER. The Lady Frances Cromwell was not likely to keep secret, grief or any thing else she had the power of disclosing: forthwith she proceeded to assail Constance Cecil with a torrent of exclamations and expostulations, to support which no inconsiderable degree of philosophy was requisite. The intention, however, sanctified the deed, and Constance, for some time, only pressed her hand in reply: at length she said,-- "You see me, dearest Frances, at present under much depression:--a dark cloud is over me; but, I entreat you, heed it not. I am about to do what is right, and not even the commands of his Highness, your father, could prevent it, if indeed you were to act upon the hint you have given me, and procure his interference. My fate is sealed, irrevocably sealed! And do you wonder that I tremble at the change I am about to undergo, the awful change, from maid to wife? Barbara, good maid, let me see no more of tears, but smiles, as in past times. And now I entreat you both, sweet friends, (for that humble girl has a heart formed by tenderness for what is more exalted--friendship,) leave me. You, my dear Lady Frances, will to-day, for my sake, and for his, be as much as possible with my father; he must grieve at this parting--it is but natural;--and you, girl--there, go to your embroidery." Barbara looked into her lady's face, seized her hand, and pressed it alternately to her heart and lips. "I will sit in yonder nook, dear mistress; I will not turn towards you, nor speak, nor breathe--you may fancy me a statue, so silent, so immovable will rest your little Barbara. Blanche and Bright-eye, and even that black wolf-hound, remain in the chamber, and why not I? Am I less faithful, or less thoughtful, than a dog? and would you treat me worse? Besides, dear lady, your wedding-clothes! There is not a satin or a silver robe, nor farthingale, nor cardinal--not a lone ostrich-plume, that is not of six fashions past! Good, my lady, if it is to be, you must wed as of a right becomes your high descent. My Lady Frances can well speak of this; and as there is no time to send to London now, her tire-women would help me to arrange the robes necessary upon such occasions." "Peace, Barbara! I mean to dress as well befits this bridal; so trouble not thyself as to the tiring; but go, my gentle girl, go, go." "And may I not crouch yonder, where so often I have read to you, and sung the little ballads that you taught me for pastime?" "Or those that poor Robin taught you? I wish that young man, Barbara, had a more settled way of life; for, despite his awkward form, there is much that is noble and elevated about him. However, make no haste to wed, and, above all, guard well your heart; keep a keen watch over your affections--ay, watch them, and pray, pray fervently, poor girl, that they may go to him who may have your hand." "They _shall_ go," said Barbara, rising to follow Lady Frances, who had abruptly left the chamber to conceal her tears; "I would not marry a king--I mean, madam, a governor--if I did not love him! Why should I?" "Why should you, indeed, my kind Barbara! There, go and tell your master, tell also Sir Willmott, that I have much to do and much to think upon; so that to-day they must excuse my absence. It is an awful thing this marriage--an unknown, or at least uncharted course to enter on;--to virgin minds," she murmured, as her faithful attendant left the room, "at all times full of doubts, ay, even when love is pilot and the fond soul brim-full of hope. I too, who had such dreams of happiness, of good and holy happiness--the interchange of kindness, the mutual zeal, the tender care--the look, so vigilant and gentle, so full of pure blandishment--the outpouring of thoughts on thoughts--the words, so musical because so rich with the heart's truth; and so I fancied love and its fulfilment, marriage. Well knew I of the contract: yet still I dreamed and hoped, yes, slept and dreamed; but to be awakened thus--to such unutterable horror! Thank God, my mother is in heaven!--that is the solitary drop of comfort in my life's poison-bowl.--My mother's death a comfort! Alas, alas!" She covered her face with her hands, and we draw the Grecian painter's veil over the contending feelings it would be impossible adequately to portray. Sir Willmott Burrell bustled and chafed, and gave orders to his serving-men, and to those now called tailors; visited the neighbouring gentry, but spoke not of his approaching marriage, which he preferred should take place as silently as might be. Nevertheless he had far too much depending upon the succeeding hours to pass the day either in quiet or composure. He had braved through his interview with the unhappy Sir Robert Cecil, and urged, as an excuse for his conduct, the extremity to which his love was driven by Constantia's decided rejection of his suit, carefully, however, concealing from her unfortunate parent the fact that she loved another. Sir Robert had sent several messages to his daughter, imploring her to see him, but in vain--she resolutely refused, wisely dreading the result of such an interview. "This day and to-morrow is all the time," she said, "I can call my own, until--for me--time has entered upon eternity. All I implore then is, that I may be alone, the mistress of myself during such brief space." When the sun was set, Barbara entered her room with a slight evening meal. Her mistress was sitting, or rather lying on a low couch, opposite a table, upon which stood a small dial, mounted in chased silver, representing a garland of flowers. "Lay it down, good girl; I cannot taste it at present. I have been watching the minute-hand pace round that dial.--Is it, indeed, near seven? It was an ill thought of the foreign craftsman to set Time amid roses; he should have placed it among thorns. Is the evening fine?" "Fine, but yet sober, my lady; the sun has quite set, and the birds are silent and at roost, except the old blackbird, who whistles late, and the wakeful robin, who sometimes bandies music with the nightingale.--Would you like to hear them, madam?" "Not just now, Barbara: but leave out my hood. Did my father again ask for me?" "Not since, mistress. Mr. Fleetword is with him." Barbara left the room. "I cannot tell why, my lady," she said earnestly to Lady Frances, whom she met in the vestibule--"I cannot divine the reason, but this bridal has to me the semblance of a funeral. God shield us all from evil! there is a cold deathlike chill throughout the house. I heard--(though, my lady, I do not believe in such superstitions,) but I heard the death-watch tick--tick--ticking, as plain as I hear the old clock now chime seven! And I saw--I was wide awake--yet I saw a thin misty countenance, formed as of the white spray of the salt-sea wave, so sparkling, so shadowy, yet so clear, come between me and the moonbeams, and raise its hand thus.--Oh, mercy--mercy--mercy!" she shrieked, so as to startle the Lady Frances, and then as hastily exclaimed, "La! madam, to think of the like! if it isn't that little muddy, nasty Crisp, who has found me out! I will tell you the rest by and by, madam, only I want to turn this little beast into the shrubbery, that he may find his master." At another time Lady Frances would have rallied her for accompanying, instead of dismissing Crisp to the garden; but a weight of sorrow seemed also to oppress her. Her usually high spirits were gone, and she made no observation, but retreated to the library. A few moments after the occurrence of this little incident, Constance was seated on the bank in "the Fairy Ring," pondering the dread change that had taken place since the previous night. The evening, as Barbara had expressed it, was fine but sober. The lilac and the laburnum were in full blossom, but they appeared faded to Constantia's eyes; so completely are even our senses under the control of circumstances. Sorrow is a sad mystifier, turning the green leaf yellow and steeping young roses in tears. She had not been long seated, when a step, a separating of the branches, and Walter De Guerre was at her feet. Constance recoiled from what at heart she loved, as it had been a thing she hated; and the look and motion could not have been unnoticed by her lover. "I have heard, Mistress Cecil--heard all!--that you are about to be married--married to a man you despise--about to sacrifice yourself for some ambitious view--some mad resolve--some to me incomprehensible determination! And I swore to seek you out--to see you before the fatal act, had it been in your own halls; and to tell you that you will never again feel what happiness is----" "I know it!" interrupted Constance, in a voice whose music was solemn and heavy as her thoughts: "Walter, I know it well. I never shall feel happy--never expect it--and it would have been but humanity to have spared me this meeting, unwished for as it now is. You, of all creatures in this wide, wide world, I would avoid.--Yes, Walter, avoid for ever! Besides," she continued with energy, "what do you here? This place--this spot, is no more safe from _his_ intrusion than from yours. If you loved, if you ever loved me, away! And oh, Walter! if the knowledge--the most true, most sad knowledge, that I am miserable--more miserable than ever you can be--be any soothing to your spirit, take it with you! only away, away--put the broad sea between us, now and for ever! If Sir Willmott Burrell slept with his fathers the sleep of a thousand dead, I could never be yours. You seem astonished, and so was I yesternight; but it is true--true--true--so put the broad sea between us quickly, Walter--now, and for ever!" The Cavalier looked as if he understood her not, or thought her senses wandered: at last he said, "But why need you, with a fortune to command, and a spirit to enjoy whatever is bright, or beautiful, or glorious--why should you fetter your free-born will? There is a cunning mystery about it, Constance" (Constance shuddered, and hid her face, lest its expression should betray something of her secret); "a mystery I cannot solve: confide it to me, and solemnly I swear, not only never to divulge, but to peril, with my good sword, my heart's richest and warmest blood, in any cause that can free you from this bad man. Nor do I expect aught of you in return, nor any thing ask, save that you may be happy, with any, any but this---- I cannot speak his hated name." Constance was too agitated to reply. Under present circumstances, she would have given worlds not to have seen Walter; and, having seen him, she knew not what to say, or how to think or act: the painful struggle she endured deprived her of the power of utterance. "It is not for myself I speak, Constantia; though now I need not tell you that the love of boyhood has never been banished from my bosom. The remembrance of the hours we spent together, before a knowledge of the world, before a change in the constitution of our country, shed its malign influence, not over our hearts, but over our destinies--the remembrance of those hours has been the blessing, the solitary blessing, of my exile; it has been the green oasis in the desert of my existence: amid the turmoil of battle, it has led me on to victory; amid the dissipation of the royal court, it has preserved me from taint. The remembrance of Constance, like the night-star that cheers the mariner on the wide sea, has kept all holy and hopeful feelings around my heart; telling of home, my early home, and its enjoyments--of Constance, the little affectionate, but high-souled girl--the----" "Stop!" interrupted Constance, with an agonised expression--"Stop, I conjure you! I know what you were going to say; you were about to repeat that which my mother loved to call me--your wife! She did not mean it in mockery, though it sounds so now, like a knell from the lower earth. But one thing, Walter, one request I have to make--you pray sometimes?--the time has been when we have prayed together!--when _next_ you pray, thank God that SHE is dead!" "How! thank God that my kind and early friend--that your mother is dead!" repeated the young man, in a voice of astonishment. "Even so, Walter. You would not see her stretched upon the rack? would not see her exposed to tortures, such as, at no very distant period, the saints of our own church endured?--would not see her torn limb from limb by wild horses?" "Heavens! Constantia, are you mad?" exclaimed Walter, terrified at her excited and distraught manner. "I am not mad," she replied, in a changed and subdued tone; "but do not forget (and let it be on your knees) to thank God that my mother is dead; and that the cold clay presses the temples, which, if they were alive, would throb and burn as mine do now." She pressed her hands on her brow; while the youth, appalled and astonished, gazed on her in silence. "It is well thought on," she said, recovering her self-command much more quickly than he could have imagined possible. "I will give it you; it would be sinful to keep it after that dread to-morrow; even now, what do I with your gift?" She drew forth from her bosom the locket of which we have before spoken, and, looking on it fondly for a moment, thought, though not aloud, "Poor little fragment of the glittering sin that tempts mankind to their destruction! I heeded not your chasing nor your gems; but once (forgive it, God, forgive it!) thought far too much of him who gave it: I should have known better. I will not look on you again, lest you take root within the heart on which you have rested: though it was then in innocence, yet _now_ it is a crime; there--" she held it towards him with a trembling hand. While her arm was thus extended, Burrell rushed from behind the covert of a wide-spreading laurel, and, with an action at once unmanly and insulting, snatched the trinket from her hand and flung it on the sward. Magic itself could not have occasioned a greater change in the look, the manner, the entire appearance of the heiress of Cecil. She drew herself up to her full height, and instantly demanded, "How Sir Willmott Burrell _dared_ to act thus in her presence?" The Cavalier drew his sword from its sheath; Burrell was not backward in following the example. He returned Constantia's look of contempt with one of sarcasm--the peculiar glance that becomes so effective from under a half-closed lid--and then his eye glared like that of the hooded snake, while he replied,-- "Methought the lady in her chamber: the destined bride, during the day, keeps to her own apartment; 'tis the soft night that draws her forth to interchange love-pledges and soft sayings." "Villain!" exclaimed De Guerre with startling energy, "hold thy blaspheming tongue, nor dare to imagine, much less express, aught of this lady that is not pure as heaven's own firmament!" "Oh, my good sir," said the other, "I know you now! the braggart at my Lady Cecil's funeral--the pall-bearer--the church-yard lounger--the----!" "Hold, coward!" interrupted the Cavalier, grinding the words between his teeth. "Lady, I entreat you to retire; this is no scene for you:--nay, but you must!" "Touch her not," exclaimed Burrell, the brutality of his vile nature fully awakened at perceiving Walter attempt to take her hand; "touch her not, though you are doubtless the youth to whom her heart is given." "Forbear, sir!" ejaculated Constance; "if you have the spirit of a man, forbear!" "Oh, then, your passion has not been declared by words--you have spoken by actions!" he retorted with redoubled acrimony. The reply to this gross insult was made by the point of De Guerre's sword resting on Burrell's breast. "Defend yourself, or die like a vile dog!" thundered the Cavalier, and Sir Willmott was obliged to stand on his defence. The feelings of the woman overcame those of the heroine, and Constance shrieked for help, when she beheld the combatants fairly engaged in a feud where the shedding of blood appeared inevitable. Her call was answered, but not by words; scarcely more than three or four thrusts had been made and returned, when a stout gentleman, clad in a dark and tight-fitting vest, strode nearly between them, and clashed the tough blade of his broad basket-hilted sword upon their more graceful, but less substantial, weapons, so as to strike them to the earth. Thus, without speaking word or farther motion, he cast his eyes, first on the one, then on the other, still holding their weapons under, more, however, by the power of his countenance, than of his arm. "Put up your swords!" he said at length, in a low stern voice--"put up your swords!" he repeated; then, seeing that, though Burrell's rapier had leaped into its rest, De Guerre retained his unsheathed, "put up your sword, sir!" he said again in a loud tone, that sounded awfully through the still twilight, and then stamped upon the ground with force and energy: "the air is damp, I say, and good steel should be kept from rust. Young men, keep your weapons in their scabbards, until God and your country call them forth; then draw according to the knowledge--according to the faith that is in ye; but a truce to idle brawling." "I would first know who it is," demanded Walter, still in fierce anger, "who breaks in upon us, and commands us thus?" "Have you so soon forgotten Major Wellmore, young man?" replied the stranger in his harshest voice: "I little thought that he of the English graft upon a French stock would have carried such brawling into the house of my ancient friend.--Sir Willmott Burrell, I lament that the fear of the Lord is not with you, or you would not use carnal weapons so indiscriminately: go to, and think what the Protector would say, did he find you thus employed." "But, sir," said De Guerre, in no degree overawed by the imperative manner of Major Wellmore, "I, at least, care not for the Protector, nor am I to be baffled of my just revenge by any of his officers." "Wouldst fight with me, then?" inquired the Major, with much good temper, and placing himself between the opponents. "If it so pleasure you," replied the youth, abating not a jot of his determination; "when I have made this treacherous and false fellow apologise to the Lady Constance, and afterwards to me, for his unproved and unprovoked words." During the parley, Constance had remained fixed and immovable; but a new feeling now seemed to animate her, as she approached, and, clinging to Major Wellmore's arm for support, spoke in an audible but tremulous voice,-- "Walter, I entreat, I command you to let this matter rest. I shall not debase myself by condescending to assert, what Sir Willmott Burrell ought, and does believe--that I came not here to meet you by any appointment. I say his heart tells him, at this moment, that such a proceeding would be one of which he knows I am incapable." "If any reflection has been made upon Mistress Cecil," observed Major Wellmore, "I will be the first to draw steel in her cause. Sir Willmott, explain this matter.--Young sir," he continued, noting Walter's ire and impatience, "a soldier's honour is as dear to me as it can be to you." Burrell felt and appeared exceedingly perplexed; but with his most insinuating manner, and a tremulous voice, he replied:-- "Mistress Cecil will, I hope, allow for the excess of affection that gave rise to such needless jealousy. On consideration, I perceive, at once, that she would not, could not, act or think in any way unworthy of herself." He bowed profoundly, as he spoke, to Constantia, who clung still more closely to Major Wellmore's arm, and could hardly forbear uttering the contempt she felt; at every instant, her truthful nature urged her to speak all she thought and knew, to set Burrell at defiance, and hold him up to the detestation he merited: but her father, and her father's crime! the dreadful thought sent back the blood that rushed so warmly from her heart in icy coldness to its seat; and the high-souled woman was compelled to receive the apology with a drooping head, and a spirit bowed almost to breaking by intense and increasing anguish. "And you are satisfied with this!" exclaimed the Cavalier, striding up to her; "you, Constance Cecil, are satisfied with this! But, by Him whose unquenchable stars are now shining in their pure glory over our heads, I am not!--Coward! coward! and liar! in your teeth, Sir Willmott Burrell! as such I will proclaim you all through his majesty's dominions, by word of mouth and deed of sword!" "Walter, Walter!" exclaimed Constance, clasping her hands. "I crave your pardon, Lady," said Burrell, without altering his tone; "but do not thus alarm yourself: my sword shall not again be drawn upon a low and confirmed malignant. Sir," turning from his opponent and addressing the stranger, "heard you not how he applied the forbidden title of majesty to the man Charles Stuart; shall I not forthwith arrest him for high treason?--runneth not the act so, formed for the renouncing and disannulling of the pretended title of the late man's progeny?" "Perish such acts and their devisers!" shouted the Cavalier, losing all prudence in the excitement of the moment. "Let the lady retire, while we end this quarrel as becomes men!" "Heed him not, heed him not, I implore, I entreat you!" exclaimed Constance, sinking to the earth at the feet of Major Wellmore, by whom the hint of Burrell was apparently unnoticed; "the lion takes not advantage of the deer caught in the hunter's toils, and he is distraught, I know he is!" "I am not distraught, Miss Cecil, though I have suffered enough to make me so: what care I for acts formed by a pack of regicides!" "Young man," interrupted the old officer with a burst of fierce and strong passion that, like a mountain torrent, carried all before it, "_I_ arrest you in the name of the Commonwealth and its Protector! A night in one of the lone chambers of Cecil Place will cool the bravo-blood that riots in your veins, and teach you prudence, if the Lord denies you grace." He laid his hand so heavily on De Guerre's shoulder, that his frame quailed beneath its weight, while the point of his sword rested on the peaceful grass. Burrell attempted, at the same instant, to steal the weapon from his hand: the Cavalier grasped it firmly; while Major Wellmore, darting on the false knight a withering look, emphatically observed, and with a total change of manner,-- "_I_ can, methinks, make good a capture without _your_ aid, kind sir; although I fully appreciate your zeal _in the cause of the Commonwealth!_" The latter part of the sentence was pronounced with a slow and ironical emphasis; then, turning to De Guerre, he added, "I need not say to you that, being under arrest, your sword remains with me." De Guerre presented it in silence; for the result of his interview with Constantia had rendered him indifferent to his fate, and, although but an hour before it would have been only with his life that his sword had been relinquished, he now cared not for the loss of either. Major Wellmore took the weapon, and appeared for a moment to consider whether he should retain it or not: he decided on the former, and in a cold, calm voice commanded his prisoner to move forward. De Guerre pointed to Constantia, who had neither shrieked nor fainted, but stood a mute statue of despair in the clear light of the young spring moon, whose early and resplendent beams fell in a silver shower on her bared and beautiful head. "I will take care of Mistress Cecil," said the insidious Burrell. As he spoke, Lady Frances, who, alarmed at the absence of her friend, had come forth to seek her, bounded into the Fairy Ring, and as suddenly screamed, and stood irresolute amid the dread circle. The Major immediately spoke:-- "Lady Frances, pray conduct your friend: Sir Willmott Burrell, we follow you to the nearest entrance." "And now," said Constantia, as her head fell on the bosom of her friend, "he is in the lion's den--fully and for ever destroyed!" Nature was exhausted: it was long ere she again spoke. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. VOLUME THE SECOND. CHAPTER I. The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy, And wit me warns to shun such snares As threaten mine annoy; For falsehood now doth flow, and subject faith doth ebb, Which would not be, if Reason ruled, or Wisdom weav'd the web. QUEEN ELIZABETH. While the headstrong Cavalier was confined in "the strong room" of Cecil Place, he had ample leisure to reflect upon the consequences of his rashness, and to remember the caution he had received from Major Wellmore on the night of their first meeting--to be guarded in his expressions, where danger might arise from a single thoughtless word. He surveyed the apartment with a careless look, as if indifferent whether it were built of brick or of Portland stone, glanced upon the massive bars of the iron-framed windows, and scarcely observed that the walls were bare of tapestry, and that dampness and decay had mottled the plastering into a variety of hues and shades of colour. His lamp burned brightly on the table; the solitary but joyous light seemed out of place; he put it therefore aside, endeavouring to lessen its effect by placing it behind a huge worm-eaten chair, over which he threw his cloak. Thus, almost in darkness, with a mind ill at ease, brooding on the events of the day, which had perhaps perilled his life, although life had now become of little value, we leave him to his melancholy and self-reproachful thoughts, and hasten to the chamber of Constance Cecil. It has already appeared that an early and a close intimacy had subsisted between her and Walter De Guerre; but we must leave it to Time, the great developer, to explain the circumstances under which it originated, as well as those by which it was broken off. Lady Frances Cromwell had left her friend in what she considered a sound slumber; and sought her dressing-room only to change her garments, so that she might sit with her during the remainder of the night. Barbara, however, had hardly taken the seat the lady had quitted, when her mistress half arose from the bed, and called her by name in so hollow a voice that the poor girl started, as if the sound came from a sepulchre. "The night is dark, Barbara," she said, "but heed it not; the good and the innocent are ever a pure light unto themselves. Go forth with courage and with faith, even to the Gull's Nest Crag; tell Robin Hays that Walter De Guerre is a prisoner here, and that, unless he be at liberty before sunrise, he may be a dead man, as surely as he is a banned one; for some covert purpose lurks under his arrest. Tarry not, but see that you proceed discreetly, and, above all, secretly. It is a long journey at this hour; the roan pony is in the park, and easily guided--he will bear you along quickly;--and for security--for you are timid, Barbara--take the wolf-hound." Barbara had long known that a servant's chief duty is obedience, yet she would just then have done errand to any one rather than to Robin Hays; she however replied,-- "Please ye, mistress, the roan pony is easy to guide, if you happen to be going the way he likes, and that is, ever from the park to the stable, from the stable to the park; otherwise, like the Israelites of old, he is a stiff-necked beast, whom I would rather eschew than commune with. And the wolf-hound, my lady, behaves so rudely to little Crisp, holding him by the throat in an unseemly fashion, and occasionally despoiling him of a fragment of his ears, toes, or tail, as it pleasures him, that I had rather take black Blanche if you permit me--she can soon find Crisp or Robin either." "As you please, Barbara; only silence and hasten." "My mistress," thus ran Barbara's thoughts as she wended on her way through the night, "is a wonderful lady; so good, so wise, so rich, yet so unhappy! I wouldn't be a lady for the world!--it is hard fate enough to be a woman, a poor, weak woman, without strength of limb or wisdom of head; and, withal, a fond heart, yet afraid and ashamed to show its fondness. If I was my lady, and my lady I, instead of sending my lady to tell Robin Hays to let the poor gentleman out, I'd just go and let him out myself, or send my lady (supposing her the maid Barbara) to let him out, without telling anybody about it. And I am sure she loves that poor gentleman; and yet she, wise, good, rich, and wonderful, is just going, in the very teeth of her affections, to marry that black Burrell! I am very happy that I'm not a lady, for I'd die, that I would ten times over, sooner than marry any one I didn't love. It will kill her, I know--I feel it will: yet why does she marry him? And she keeps such deep silence too.--Down, pretty Blanche, and do not rouse your sleek ears: your ears, Blanchy, are lady's ears, and so ought to hear nothing frightening--and your eyes, Blanche, are lady's eyes, and should never see any thing disagreeable.--What ails thee, doggy? Nay, wag ye'r tail, and do not crouch so; 'tis but the shadow of a cow, I think.--How my heart beats!" The beating of the maiden's heart accelerated her speed, and she ran with hasty and light footsteps a considerable distance before either dog or girl paused for breath. At length they did pause, and Barbara saw with much satisfaction, that she had left far behind the shadow which caused Blanche and herself so much alarm. She reached the Gull's Nest without any misadventure, and now her object was to draw Robin forth from the hostelry without entering herself. Through a chink in the outer door (the inner being only closed on particular occasions) she discovered Robin and his mother, and one or two others--strangers they might be, or neighbours--at all events she did not know them. Presently Crisp stretched his awkward length from out its usual coil, and trotted to the door, slowly wagging his apology for tail, as if perfectly conscious of the honour of Blanche's visit. Miss Blanche, in her turn, laid her nose on the ground and snorted a salutation that was replied to by a somewhat similar token from master Crisp. Robin, who was the very embodyment of vigilance, knew at once there was something or someone without, acquainted and on friendly terms with his dog, and he quietly arose and opened the door without making any observation to his companions. He was, indeed, astonished at perceiving Barbara, who put her finger on her lip to enjoin silence. He immediately led her to the back of the house, where none of the casual visiters could see them, and she communicated her lady's message quickly but distinctly. She would have enlarged upon the danger, and expatiated on the interest she took in the cause of the Cavalier, had Robin permitted her, but she saw he was too much distressed at the magnitude of the information to heed the details, however interesting they might have been at any other time. "But I don't understand it," at length murmured Robin; "I can't see it: how could he possibly suffer Sir Willmott Burrell to place him in confinement?" "It was not he at all," replied Barbara; "it was Major Wellmore, and he is at the Place now." "Death and the devil!" exclaimed Robin, at the same instant pressing his back against the wall beside which he stood: it instantly gave way, and Barbara was alone--alone in that wild and most dreary-looking place. She summoned Blanche, but Blanche was far away over the cliffs, exploring, under Crisp's guidance, the nooks and intricacies of the hills and hollows. She would have called still louder, but her quick eye discerned not now a shadowy figure, but Sir Willmott Burrell himself, within a distance of two or three hundred yards, and approaching towards her. She was concealed from his sight by a projection of the cliff: but this she never considered, alive only to the feelings his appearance at once suggested. She had noted the spot where Robin had disappeared, and, urged by terror, flung herself against the same portion of the wall, with such success, that it gave way before her, replacing itself so suddenly that, in an instant, the light of the bright stars in the blue heavens was shut out, and she stood in total darkness, within the recess that had so mysteriously opened to receive her. When she became a little collected, she distinctly heard the sound of voices at no great distance, and groping about in the same direction, discovered a narrow flight of stairs, which she immediately descended, imagining that she was following the course which Robin had pursued. Her progress was soon arrested by a door, which she attempted to shake, but in vain; she leaned against it, however, or rather sank down upon the steps, worn out by fatigue of body and anxiety of mind. She could not have lain there a moment, when the door opened, and Robin literally sprang over her in his haste to re-ascend. She started from her position on perceiving before her the well-remembered figure of the Buccaneer, who was about to mount also, evidently with as much eagerness, though with less activity, than Robin Hays. The sight of a stranger at their most secret entrance, even though that stranger was a woman, sent Hugh Dalton's hand to the pommel of his sword, but it was as quickly stayed by Robin's cry of, "It is Barbara." The Buccaneer had just time to catch the fainting form of his daughter in his arms, and the wild and reckless seaman was so overpowered by the unexpected meeting, that he thought not of inquiring how she had obtained admittance. We have observed that women in the inferior ranks of society continue much briefer time in hysterics, swoons, and such-like, than the highborn and well educated, who know how to make the most of all matters of the kind. Barbara rapidly revived, and as rapidly urged Robin to heed her message, and to take her away, informing him in the same breath, that she had pushed against that portion of the wall where he had so strangely disappeared, because she had seen Sir Willmott Burrell approaching the spot with determined speed. "Listen at the secret door," exclaimed the Buccaneer. "When he cannot find you above, he will seek you at the only entrance he knows of: I need not say, answer not the sign." "Robin, Robin!" ejaculated Barbara, "take me, oh! take me with you!--You are not, surely, going to leave me in this horrid place, and with a stranger too!" Poor Dalton! what painful and powerful emotions convulsed his heart and features!--"a stranger!"--a stranger, indeed, to his own child! Robin quitted the place without replying to her entreaty; and when the Buccaneer spoke, it was in that low and broken voice which tells of the soul's agony. "Why call me stranger?" he said, approaching, and tenderly taking her hand; "you have seen me before." "Yes, good sir, the night previous to my dear lady's death--it is an ill omen to see strangers for the first time where there is death. I thank you, sir, I will not sit. May I not go after Robin?" "Then you prefer Robin to me?" "So please ye, sir; I have known Robin a long, long time, and he knows my father: perhaps you, too, may know him, sir; you look of the sea, and I am sure my father is a sailor. Do you know my father?" The gentle girl, forgetting her natural timidity under the influence of a stronger principle, seized the hand of the Buccaneer, and gazed into his face with so earnest and so beseeching a look, that if Robin had not returned on the instant, the Skipper would have betrayed the secret he was so anxious to preserve until (to use his own expression) "he was a free man, able to look his own child in the face." "He is at the entrance, sure enough," said Robin; "but it will occupy him longer to climb the rocks than it did to descend them; we can take the hollow path, and be far on the road to Cecil Place before he arrives at the summit." "But what can we do with her?--She must not longer breathe the air of this polluted nest," argued Dalton, all the father overflowing at his heart; "if we delay, Burrell may see her: if so, all is over." "I can creep along the earth like a mocking lapwing," she replied. "Let me but out of this place, I can hide in some of the cliff-holes--any where out of this, and," she whispered Robin, "away--above all things away--from that fearful man." "To Cecil Place at once then, Captain; the delay of half an hour may seal his doom. I will place Barbara in a nook of the old tower, where nothing comes but bats and mice; and, as it overlooks the paths, she can see from it the road that Burrell takes, and so avoid him when returning." Dalton looked at Barbara but for a moment, then suddenly clasping her with rude energy to his bosom, he darted up the stairs, holding open the door at the top, so that he might see her forth in safety. The terrified girl passed tremblingly before him; and wondered not a little at the strong interest the wild seaman manifested towards her. Only one way of accounting for it occurred to her simple mind--that he had known her father;--the idea was strengthened, when she heard him murmur, "Thank God! she breathes once more the uncontaminated air of heaven!" He strode a few hasty steps forward, then turned back, and said emphatically to Robin,-- "Place her in safety, as you hope for salvation!" "And am I to stay by myself in this horrid place, Robin?" inquired Barbara, as he seated her in the window of a portion of the old tower, from whence a large extent of country was visible, steeped in the pale moonlight. "Fear nothing," he replied; "I must away: only do not leave this until you see--which you can easily do by the light of the bright moon--Sir Willmott Burrell take his departure." "And will that rude old sailor help the young gentleman from his confinement?" "He will, he will." "One word more, Robin, and then my blessing be with you! Did he know my father?" "He did." "But one syllable more: Did he love him?" "So truly, that he loves you as if you were his own child." "Then," thought Barbara, in the fulness of her innocence, "I am happy--for no one is loved, even by the wicked, who is not good." Her clear eye observed that Robin took the same path as the Buccaneer; though, had she not known them, she could hardly have recognised their figures, because of some disguise they must have suddenly assumed. They had scarcely faded from her sight, when she discovered the tall person of Burrell standing at no great distance on the brow of the cliff, and apparently surveying the adjacent landscape. He rapidly approached the Gull's Nest; and soon after she heard the shrill voice of Mother Hays, protesting over and over again, that "Robin had been there not twenty, not fifteen--no, not ten minutes past;--that she had searched every where, and that he was nowhere to be found;--that she had not seen Hugh Dalton for a long, long time; and that, to the best of her belief, he had not touched the shore for many a day;--that the men within were good men, honest men--one in particular, who would be happy to serve him, as he seemed so earnest to see Robin--Jack, true Jack Roupall, a tried, trusty man:--could he be of any service, as that ne'er-do-good, Robin, was out of the way ever and always when he was wanted? To be sure, she could not even give a guess at any thing his honour might want; but perhaps Jack might do instead of Robin." It occurred to Burrell at the moment, that Roupall might serve his purpose even better than Robin Hays, for he was both a strong and a desperate man; and he bade the old woman send him forth; telling her at the same time, and in a significant tone, that he was well acquainted with the talents and character of her guest. The fragment of the tower in which Barbara was perched was a small projecting turret-room, standing on the top of a buttress, and had been, doubtless, used in the early ages, as a species of sentry-box, from which a soldier could command a view of the country and the coast. It was with feelings of extreme terror that she perceived Burrell and Roupall close beneath her, standing so as to be concealed from the observation of any passenger who might go to or from the dwelling. She drew her dark cloak over her head and face, leaving only an opening to peep through, anxious to avoid, by every means in her power, the hazard of a discovery. She could gather from the conversation between the two, that Burrell was describing to Roupall something that he must do, and offering him a large reward for its completion; she listened eagerly, and heard them frequently speak of Cecil Place and Walter De Guerre. Her attention, however, was soon drawn away by the appearance of a third person--unseen by the others--creeping round a projecting corner, like a tiger about to spring upon its prey, and then crouching close to the earth. The form was that of a slight youth, clad in a tight-fitting doublet and vest, and, it would seem, armed only with a dagger, which, however, he carried unsheathed, and so openly that the moonbeams danced upon its polished point, as lightning on a diamond, whenever he changed its position in his hand (which he did more than once). He crept on so silently that neither were at all aware of his approach, but continued talking and bargaining as before. Barbara felt that danger was at hand; and yet, had she the inclination, she had not the power to speak, but sat breathlessly and tremblingly awaiting the result. Suddenly, but still silently, as though the figure were a phantom, and the dagger air-drawn, the boy rose from the ground, and held the weapon as if irresolute whether to strike or not. The manner in which he stood fully convinced Barbara Iverk that Burrell was the object of some intended attack--she tried to shriek, but the voice choked in her throat. As rapidly as this mysterious being had risen from, he sank into his former crawling attitude, and disappeared. All this occurred in much less time than has been occupied in relating it, and the poor maiden almost thought she had been deceived by some supernatural appearance. She was soon aroused from her painful state of voiceless terror by the words of Burrell, who now spoke more loudly than at first. "I will give him his liberty this very night, which of course, under the circumstances I have mentioned, he cannot fail to consider a most deep obligation--an act of disinterested generosity. I will give it him secretly, of course; and you meet him on his exit. As we go along, I will settle the where--and then--the matter is easily concluded." "Very easily for you, doubtless," retorted Roupall; "you had ever the way, master, of keeping your neck out of the noose. How much of the coin did you say?" Barbara did not hear the reply. "Why it's only one more. Is he young?" "Yes." "I don't like young customers. It's a charity to put the old out of the way; for, be they ever so well off, they must be sick and weary of the world. But the young--I don't like it, master." "Pshaw! it's only saving him in time from that which gives old men trouble; and life can go but once: besides, I will not stand for the matter of a few broad-pieces. I care not if I make the sum half as much more, provided it be done safely." "Will you give me your note of hand to it?" "Do you take me for a fool?--or did you ever know me to break my word?" "I never took ye for the first, Sir Willmott, and, as to the other, we've had no business between us lately. Half as much more, you said?" "Half as much more." "Well, it is but one, and then--ah! ah! ah!--I'll reform and turn gentleman. No, d--n it, I hate gentlemen, they're so unprincipled; but you must double--double or quits." "Jack Roupall, you are an unconscionable scoundrel." "By the lady-moon, then, there be a pair of us." Burrell muttered some reply that Barbara did not hear, but again the grating voice of Roupall ascended. "Double or quits; Lord, ye needn't be so touchy about a little word of familiarity--such fellowship makes all men equal." "Well then, double, if so it must be; only remember, Roupall, there is some difference between the employer and the employed," was the knight's answer. And the high-born and the low-born ruffian walked away together; and the bright beams of the holy moon and the unsullied stars fell upon them as gently, as if they had been good and faithful ministers of the Almighty's will. The two leading features of Barbara Iverk's character were, fidelity and affection; all her feelings and actions were but various modifications of these great principles--in every sense of the word, she was simple-minded. After the men had departed for some time, still she could hardly bring herself to understand or believe the nature or extent of the crime they meditated. It was surely a most singular manifestation of God's providence, she thought, which placed her there, that she might overhear, and it might be prevent the great wickedness of those evil men. She descended from the window with haste, but with caution also, for the stones crumbled from beneath her feet as she moved along. She had scarcely set her foot on the grass turf, when the dog was at her side, whining and fawning with delight at again meeting with her friend and mistress. Barbara crossed the wild country, and gained the park-wall without encountering any danger. When there, she paused breathlessly under an oak, and would have given worlds to see and speak to her friend Robin. Amid the deepness of night, and among the foliage of the trees, she thought she discerned the figure of a person creeping beneath the boughs--now in shadow, and now casting his own shadow upon what had shadowed him. This appearance terrified her so exceedingly that she did not gain courage to proceed, until she saw that he turned into a distant path; she then stole slowly along under the shelter of the wall, and when she came to a small gate which opened into the park, within view of the mansion, she pushed through it, and just gained the lawn, when the sound of a pistol, and a flash through the darkness, terrified her so much, that she fell, faint and exhausted, on the sward. CHAPTER II. A mystery! ay, good, my masters. ----there's mystery In a moonbeam--in a gnat's wing-- In the formation of an atom-- An atom! it may be a world--a peopled world-- Canst prove that it is not a world? Go to, We are all fools. _Old Play._ Hugh Dalton and Robin Hays had hastily proceeded to Cecil Place, discoursing, as they went along, upon the probable consequences of their friend's arrest. Bitterly did the Buccaneer comment upon the rashness and impetuosity so frequently evinced by De Guerre. "It is perfectly useless," he said, "attempting to curb these boy heroes! the rushing blood must have its way until arrested by age, not wisdom; the hot head must be cooled by the ice of time, and not till then will the arguments or experience of others be regarded as they merit." "It is Burrell, I fear," retorted Robin; "there is but one hope in that quarter--he cannot know him." "But he may hear." "How?" "God knows; only I have ever observed that the keenness of such men exceeds that of better and wiser ones." "Ay, ay," said Robin; "but we must sharpen our wits in due proportion: though, at present, I suspect it is arms we shall want. I know the room well, and there is a lot of creeping ivy and such plants under the window; the greatest difficulty will be with the iron stanchions." "The greatest difficulty, methinks, will be to escape from the arrester; and you seem to think nothing of the danger I run in trusting myself within the grasp of such a man." "The Cavalier is worth all risks." "I know it, Robin. Did I ever shrink from peril in such a cause?" "Faith, no!" replied the other with his usual chuckle; "if God had willed you to be born a snail, you would have crept out of your house, so careless are you in all things." "Do you think there is aught of danger for Barbara?" said the Buccaneer, his manner clearly showing that, if he did not care for himself, there was something he did care for. "If she is timid as a hare," replied Robin, "she is, as a hare, heedful and light-footed; no fear for her. How your heart clings to her, Captain!" "So it does; and yet some strange shadow comes over me when I think of her--as if I knew she would despise, perhaps hate me--she has been brought up in such strict principles; still, I would not have her less right-minded." He paused, and they proceeded silently on their way, Dalton pondering on the best method of procuring De Guerre's liberty, and then thinking of his sweet and gentle child. Nature may lie buried or be stifled for a time--an apathetic temperament will seek to smother, a harsh one to bind, a strong one to subdue it--but it overcomes them all; and though a man's speech may run according to his learning, and his deeds according to his habits, yet nature thinks and speaks within him, often in direct opposition to the words that fall from his lips, and the actions in which he may be engaged. Thus it was with the Buccaneer; despite the fearful course his outlawed life had taken, the remembrance of his child would arise to his imagination, shaded by sorrow, or sunned by happiness, according to his mood of mind--but always as his child--the being upon whom his very existence seemed to hang. "There is little light from his window," said Robin, as they came within view of the house; "let us over the fencing.--Hush!" he continued, elevating his hand so as to command the attention of his companion, at the same time bending his ear to the earth. Dalton listened, but, it would seem, heard no sound, for he exclaimed hastily,-- "Hush me no hush!--you are ever fancying something or other out of the way." Robin repeated the signal. "What mummery!" said the Buccaneer; "I hear nothing, and see nothing." Robin laid himself on the ground, while the impatient and irritated seaman fumed and moved about, a curse whizzing from between his teeth as ever and anon he looked at Robin, and from Robin to the house. "If you must have employment," said the Ranger at last, in a low tone, "see to your arms. Are your pistols loaded muzzle high?--are your weapons sharp?--Hush!" The Buccaneer knew that these hints were not given in wantonness, and calmly examined his fire-arms. "The tramp of horses!" continued Robin, "and of heavy ones too; but they are going from, not coming towards us. Ah! heard ye not that?" He raised himself from the ground, and the neigh of a horse was borne to them on the blast. They both stood in breathless silence, the Buccaneer with his hand suspended over, but not touching, his sword-handle--Robin with open mouth and extended hands, as if the very movement of his limbs could destroy the quietness around, or impede the sound they watched for. Again the neigh was repeated, but more faintly, and evidently from a greater distance. "Safe from one at least," said Robin, jumping in ecstasy, but yet speaking in a subdued voice. "I would know the neigh of that black steed amid a thousand; its tone is like that of a trumpet, mightiest among its kind. I feel as if the weight of a hundred stone was off my heart--don't you?" Dalton replied not, for he was fearlessly striding towards the house, not, as before, sneaking among the bushes. "Let us to the window, Captain," said Robin. "Not I," he replied. "What care I for any of them _now_? I shall _demand_ Walter from Sir Robert." "You are foolhardy. What can be done quietly, ought to be done quietly. If we cannot succeed so, why dare both Sir Robert and Sir Willmott?" "I believe you are right, though I hate sailing on a lee-shore. The open, open sea, for my money! Hark ye! Cecil _dare_ not refuse me this." "Or any thing else, I suspect--though I know not why," replied Robin, as he commenced climbing by the creeping plants to the prison-window, beneath which they now stood. "How delighted he will be to see my ugly face, poor fellow!" Robin continued muttering broken sentences all the while he ascended, having previously arranged with the Buccaneer that he was to remain below. "Ah! firm footing this old ivy. There, now we are up!--Master Walter! Master Walter!--He sleeps behind that screen, I warrant me, little thinking of his faithful friends. So, so! the rust has done its duty. Strong room! strong walls they mean; but what signify strong walls without strong windows?--Good! There goes another, and another--better still! And now----" He entered the chamber, passed to the front of the screen, opened the large cupboard, cast his eyes upon the untrimmed lamp, and then perceived that the door was slightly ajar; but no vestige remained of Walter De Guerre, except his cloak, that was flung over the chair. His first movement was to close and bolt the door, and then call softly to the Buccaneer to ascend. "He is gone!" exclaimed Robin with a trembling voice, as Dalton entered the room. "Gone!" repeated the Skipper: "then is there treachery. My brave boy, that I loved as my own son! By Heavens! I'll rouse the house! Had it not been for my accursed plots, he would not have come over. I'll have him delivered up to me, did Sir Robert plan his destruction as skilfully as he plotted that of----" Hugh was prevented from finishing his sentence by the sudden entrance of Sir Willmott Burrell, who appeared in the room they could not tell how, as the chair was still against the door, and there were no visible means of admission except by the window. Dalton and the knight eyed each other with evident astonishment, but the fiery Buccaneer was the first to speak. "And you are here, Sir Willmott! and for no good, or your face would not be so smooth, or your lip so smiling. Where, sir--where, I say--is your prisoner?" "My prisoner, good Captain! I had no prisoner." "Death and d--n! Sir Willmott, dare not to trifle with me. Where is the young man? where is Walter De Guerre? You know; you _must_ know. Why come you here silently, secretly? Answer me, Sir Willmott Burrell. Where is the young man?" "Captain Dalton," replied Sir Willmott, "although your anxiety about this malignant convinces me that you are not the man my friendship thought you, yet I confess that I came here for the express purpose of forwarding his escape. Doubt me if you will; but see, I am unarmed, and here is the secret key for unfastening the grating, which I suppose you, and my quondam servant, have so unceremoniously removed." Dalton looked at him, and then at the key, which he took from his hand and scrupulously examined. "Sir Willmott Burrell," he said, after a few moments' deliberation, "why did you this? You are not one to do an act of good--whatever you might of evil--for its own sake." "Why?" repeated Burrell. "Ay, why? Your motive, sir--your motive?" "Motive? What motive had you for bringing over this fly-away Cavalier, and, when I questioned you, denying any knowledge of the youth?" "Sir Willmott, my question was first asked, and must be first answered." "Then, sir," replied Burrell, drawing himself up, "let it be enough that such was my pleasure. Now, Captain, your answer to my question." "Your answer will save me the trouble," replied the Buccaneer, with as much height, if not as much dignity of manner. "Apply it in the same way." "I must call you to account for this, as well as other matters; but now, think that considering who sleeps under this roof, it would be only wise to withdraw. It is somewhat upon my mind, despite your well-feigned surprise, that you have spirited away this fellow--if so----" "Stuff, stuff!" interrupted the Buccaneer: "there has been here a stronger spirit at work than either yours or mine; and, as to calling me to account, you always know where I am to be found." "I sought you there to-night on this very errand," replied the wily Sir Willmott, "but you were absent." "Still I repeat, you know where to find me. And now for my parting words. Observe, I dread no meeting with any; you have more reason to tremble than I have, if all were known. But now--see that no harm happen to the Cavalier, who, but an hour since, occupied this chamber; for, by the God of heaven! if but a hair of his head fall to the earth, I will hunt you to your own destruction! Never tell me that you have no power, no control, over him or his destiny. All I say is,--see to it. It would be better that you had been drowned, like a blind kitten, at your birth, than that any harm happened to Walter De--De--De----" Dalton looked confused, then, recovering himself, he glanced a fierce look at Sir Willmott, and commenced his descent from the window, muttering, "Devil! I forgot his name; couldn't he have taken an English one? D--n all foreigners!" With this John-Bullish exclamation, which seems so natural to the natives of "Old England," the Skipper reached the ground. Nor was Robin long in following his example: he cared not to tarry Sir Willmott's questioning, and touched the earth sooner than his friend, inasmuch as he sprang down, when midway, with his usual agility. They had not gone three steps on their path when Sir Willmott's voice arrested their progress. "Hist, Dalton! hist!--here is the youth's cloak--put it on, good Dalton, the night is raw; here it goes. Well caught, Robin; make the Captain put it on; you can return it to the Cavalier when you see him, which you doubtless will, and soon--I entreat you put it on. The path by the lake leads straight to the Gull's Nest. I wish, Robin, you could tarry here till morning--I shall want you on business of importance." Robin shook his head in denial. Dalton threw the cloak over his shoulder, and almost mechanically took the path that Burrell had pointed out. Sir Willmott immediately withdrew from the window. They had not gone more than a hundred yards when Robin looked back towards the house, and, by the light of the moon, caught a glimpse of the Master of Burrell, as if intent on their movements. He at the time took no notice of this to the Buccaneer, but they no sooner arrived at a spot where the branches of the trees overshadowed their path, than Robin plucked the cloak from the shoulders of his companion. "Well, Robin!" exclaimed the Skipper in astonishment. "It is not well," replied the manikin; "it cannot be well when the devil turns nurse-tender. He would not have been so careful of your health, if he thought your life would be of long duration. And why point out this path?--it is not the shortest; and if it were, what cares he for our legs? Wanting me to stay at the Place too--it's all ill. Besides, I saw him watching us from the window: why should he watch us? was it love, think ye? Go to, Master Dalton, you are not the man you were: let us strike into another path; I will be all ears and eyes, and do you keep your arms in readiness." "You are right, Robin; you are right--right in one thing, at all events," replied Dalton, leaning his arm against a tree, and pressing his forehead with his hand; "I am not, indeed, the man I was! The lion spirit is yet within me; but, Robin, that spirit which never quailed to mortal authority, is become weak and yielding as a young girl's heart, to the still, but appalling voice of my own conscience. After every effort there is a re-action:--the blood!--the blood, shed through my instrumentality, and often by my own hand, rises before me, like a crimson cloud, and shuts out all that is pure and holy from my sight. It used not to be thus! My passions--my whirlwind passions, that carried me forward for so many years--are dead, or dying. It takes time to wind me up to a brave action:--my joints are stiffening, and crack within their sockets, when called upon to do their duty. The very good I would, I cannot! This Walter, whom I love next to my own Barbara--to find him in the lion's net! That Jewish girl I sought, merely to save her from yon hell-hound's grasp!--she unconsciously eludes my search; in some shape or other she will be sacrificed. I am sick--sick of villains and villany! With wealth enough to purchase lands, broader and fairer than these we now tread upon, I would thank God, night and day upon my bended knees, to make me as one of the poor hinds, who has not wherewith to purchase a morning meal--or as a savage--a wild untamed savage--who hunts the woods for food!" "You'd do foolishly then, Captain; under favour, very foolishly," replied Robin, yielding to the Buccaneer's humour, and yet seeking to calm it away. "Know ye not that every rose has its own thorns, and every bosom its own stings? Besides," he continued, faintly, "the wealth you speak of will richly dower Barbara; make her a match for a gentleman, or mayhap a knight!" "Did you say a gentleman? No, no, I will never marry her to one who would take her as so much ballast to her gold, and scorn her as the Rover's daughter." "But you would scorn a poor man for her?" "Blessed poverty!" exclaimed the sailor; "how would I hug it to my heart--make it joint partner with my child in my affections, if it would only bring a fair unspotted name in exchange for the gold it might take away. Blessed poverty!" It would appear that Robin was too much occupied by his own feelings to be on the alert as usual; for Dalton was the first to perceive a man stealing along by the side of, but not on, the path they had quitted; he pointed him out to Robin's attention. In an instant the little Ranger commenced reconnoitring; and came back without delay, to tell the Captain that it was no other than Jack Roupall. "Jack Roupall!" repeated Dalton, returning instantly to the path they had quitted, saying aloud at the same time, "Why, Jack, what sends you on this tack?" Whether from some sudden tremor or astonishment, it cannot be ascertained, nor could the ruffian himself account for it, he discharged a pistol, evidently without aim, and Robin as instantly struck it from his hand. It was this report that had so terrified Barbara. But there was another ear upon which it struck--in the solitude of that wild room in Cecil Place. It sent the blood rushing to his evil brain;--he clasped his hands in exultation; for the death-sound was to him the voice of security; and he prayed--(that such wretches are allowed to pray!)--that the bullet was at that moment wading in the life-stream of the Buccaneer. CHAPTER III. Brother of Fear, more gaily clad, The merrier fool o' th' two, yet quite as mad; Sire of Repentance! child of fond Desire! That blow'st the chymic's and the lover's fire, Leading them still insensibly on By the strange witchcraft of "anon." COWLEY AGAINST HOPE. To account for Walter De Guerre's sudden departure, we must revert to the time when, silent and solitary, he shaded the glare of the night-lamp from his eyes, and threw himself along the black oak form to meditate and mourn over events that appeared to him, at least, now beyond his own control. Whatever others may think as to our bringing on our own misfortunes, we hardly ever agree in the hard task of self-condemnation--a task of peculiar difficulty to the young and the ardent. They may even be inwardly dissatisfied with themselves, yet they care not to express it openly, lest they may be thought little of;--a timidity natural in youth, and arising, not unfrequently, from diffidence in its own powers. Age may improve the understanding, but it chills the affections; and though the young are ever fitter to invent than to judge, and abler for execution than for counsel; yet, on the other hand, they are happily free from that knowledge of the world which first intoxicates, and then, too frequently, leaves its votaries with enfeebled heads and palsied hands. Had not Walter been schooled in adversity, he would have been as haughty and as unyielding a cavalier as ever drew sword in the cause of the unhappy Stuarts; but his boyhood had been passed amid privations, and they had done the work of wisdom. As in books, so it is in life, we profit more by the afflictions of the righteous Job, than by the felicities of the luxurious Solomon. The only break of summer sunshine in his short but most varied career was the time he had spent with Constance Cecil; nor had he in the least exaggerated his feelings in saying that "the memory of the days passed in her society bad been the soother and brightener of his existence." He sorrowed as much at the idea that she was sacrificing herself from some mysterious cause, as at the termination his affection was likely to suffer. That so high souled a being was about to make such a sacrifice from worldly motives, was, he knew, impossible; and among the bitterest of his regrets was the one, that she did not consider him worthy of her confidence. "I could give her up, almost cheerfully," he would repeat to himself, "if her happiness depended on it; but I cannot support the idea that she thinks me undeserving her esteem." As to his arrest, he cared but little for it: at another time it would have chafed and perplexed him in no small degree; but Constance--the beloved Constance--the playmate of his childhood--the vision of his boyhood--the reality of his maturer years, was alone in his mind. Often did he wish he had not seen her in her womanly beauty; that he had not spent a day beneath the roof where he was now a prisoner; that she had been any thing but worthy of the passionate affection he endeavoured vainly to recall. Had she been less perfect, he thought he could have been less devoted; and yet he would not have her other than she was. But for such a one to be the victim of Sir Willmott Burrell--a traitor! a coward--the thought was insupportable. After many contending ideas, he came to the resolution that, cost what it would, he would put the case in all its bearings to Major Wellmore--another mystery he vainly sought to unravel, but who had evidently powerful interest with the family at Cecil Place. True, he was a partisan of the Protector; but, nevertheless, there were fine manly feelings about his heart; and it was, moreover, clear that he was by no means well inclined towards Sir Willmott Burrell. With this resolution on his mind, bodily fatigue overcame even his anxieties, and he fell into a deep slumber. He had slept but for a short time, when he was suddenly awakened by the pressure of a hand upon his shoulder; he looked up, and by the dim light of the fading lamp saw it was Major Wellmore who disturbed his repose. He started at once from his couch; but the officer seated himself upon an opposite chair, placed his steeple-crowned and weather-beaten hat on the floor, and resting his elbows on his knees, and his chin between the palms of his hands, fixed his keen eyes upon the young Cavalier, who, when perfectly awake, perceived that his visitor was dressed and armed as usual. "Is it morning, sir?" inquired De Guerre, anxious to break the silence. "No, sir," was the concise reply. "The whole house sleeps," resumed Walter; "why then are you up and dressed? and why am I disturbed?" "You are mistaken, young man. Know you a pretty, demure, waiting-gentlewoman, called Barbara?" "Mistress Cecil's attendant?" "The same:--she has but now left the house, to communicate, I suppose, with your respectable friends at the Gull's Nest, and devise means for your escape." "If so, I am sure I know nothing of the foolish plan." "I believe you. There is another who slumbers not." "What, Constantia!--is she ill?" inquired the Cavalier, with an earnestness that caused something of a smile to visit the firm-set lip of the hardy soldier. "No; I know nothing of young ladies' slumbers; I dare say she and her loquacious friend, Lady Frances, have talked themselves to sleep long since." "Lady Frances, I dare say, has," persisted Walter: "light o' lip, light o' sleep." "I spoke of neither of the women," said the Major, sternly; "I allude to Sir Willmott Burrell--he sleeps not." "By my troth I am glad of it," exclaimed the Cavalier; "right glad am I that slumber seals not the craven's lids. Would that I were by his side, with my good steel, and where there could be no interruption; the sun should never rise upon his bridal morn." "Ah! you would show your regard for Mistress Cecil, I presume, by destroying the man she has chosen to be her husband; such is the Malignant's love!" "Love, sir! I have not spoken of love. But could Constantia Cecil love a dastard like this Burrell? Listen!--I thought to tell you--yet, when I look on you, I cannot--there is that about you which seems at war with tenderness. Age sits upon your brow as if it were enthroned on Wisdom--the wisdom learned in a most troubled land--the wisdom that takes suspicion as its corner stone; yet once, mayhap, blood, warm and gentle too, flowed in those very veins that time hath wrought to sinews; and then, sir--then you looked on love and youth with other eyes:--was it not so?" "It may have been," replied the soldier: "speak on." "In my early youth, nay, in very childhood, I was the playmate of her who is now ripened into glorious womanhood. I will not tell you why or wherefore--but 'tis a strange story--my destiny led me to distant but far less happy scenes: my heart panted to be near her once again; yet it was all in vain; for, in truth, I was cast upon the waters--left----" "Like the infant Moses, doubtless," interrupted the Major; adding, "But found you no Pharaoh's daughter to succour and take pity? Methought there were many to become nursing fathers and mothers to the spawn, the off-sets, of monarchy." "Sir!" exclaimed the Cavalier with emotion, "why this needless insult? You told me to proceed; and now----" "I tell you to desist. What care I to hear of the love you bear the woman Cecil? She is the betrothed of another man; and were she not, think you I could wish her wedded to one holding principles such as yours? Have not her gallant brothers, boys fostered, nurtured in freedom, soared to taste the liberty of heaven? Have they not yielded up their breath, their life-blood in the holy cause? The saplings were destroyed, although the Lord's arm was outstretched, and mighty to save! And think ye I would see her, who is part and parcel of such glorious flesh, wedded to one who yearns for the outpouring of slaughter, and the coming again of a race of locusts upon this now free land?" "If Lady Constance would have broken the unjust contract," replied Walter, reasoning for once with something like coolness, "I should not have thought of asking your opinion, or consulting your wishes, Major Wellmore." "And yet, had you been different, had the Lord given unto you to discern the right, I could, I might, I would say, have had sufficient influence to order it otherwise--that is, if her affections be not placed on Burrell; for I hold it as a fleshly and most carnal act to bestow the hand in marriage, where the heart goeth not with it." "If Mistress Cecil were asked," said Walter, "she would not, I am sure, deny that the man is held by her in utter abhorrence." "I have heard of this," replied the veteran, "but look upon the information most doubtingly. Constantia Cecil is a truth-loving and a God-fearing woman, and I deem her to be one who would die sooner than plight a false faith: it would be difficult to find a motive strong enough to destroy her sense of religion, or the rectitude springing therefrom." "Ask yourself, acquainted as you are with both natures," persisted De Guerre, "if one like Mistress Cecil could love such as Sir Willmott Burrell?" "I grant the apparent impossibility of the case; but mark ye, it is easier to believe in the existence of impossibilities, paradoxical as such a phrase may sound, than to fathom the mind of a woman, when she pleases to make secret what is passing within her, or when she has taken some great charge into her heart. Howbeit, whether she loves Sir Willmott or not, she is little likely to love one who seeks, like you, the ruin of his country." "The ruin of my country!" repeated the Cavalier. "Even so: dissatisfied with present things in England, you cannot deny that you hunger and thirst after a Restoration, as the souls of the Israelites thirsted after the luxuries of Egypt, and would have endured a second bondage to have tasted of them again. Young man, you should know that those who bring war into their country care little for its prosperity." "I shall not deny that I desire a change in this afflicted kingdom," he replied; "but as to bringing war again into England, those who first drew the sword should think of that." Major Wellmore knit his brows, and looked fixedly at the Cavalier. Then, after a few moments' pause, recommenced the conversation, without, however, withdrawing his eyes from their scrutiny. "We will again talk of your own individual affairs, good youth; for we are not likely to agree upon the political bearing of this land. You believe that Mistress Constance is but little affected towards the man she is about to marry?" "Affected towards him!" repeated Walter, kindling at the idea. "Unless affected by deep hatred, nothing else affects her, as far as he is concerned. I could swear to the truth of that conviction, on the Saviour's Cross--on the hilt of my own sword, were it necessary." "Which it is not," observed the Major. "But how reconcile you that with the high opinion you entertain of the lady?" "I cannot reconcile it. If I could, I should feel almost at peace with her and with myself. It is mystery all--except that the accursed bridal will be the stepping-stone to her grave! That is no mystery." "You would prevent this marriage?" "Yes, truly, were my heart's blood to rush forth in so doing; if," he added sorrowfully, "its prevention could be indeed accomplished;--but it is too late now." "It is not too late," said the old officer, "if you will listen calmly, and learn that there is no necessity for such profaneness as you have used. Oaths and exclamations cannot destroy facts, any more than sunbeams can dissolve iron: so, avoid, I pray you, idle or wicked words, and listen. You would prevent this marriage?" "Most undoubtedly, were it possible; but I know, I feel it is too late:--the damning----" "Sir!" interrupted the Roundhead warmly, "I have just cautioned you against the use of profane words; yet you stuff them down my throat. I am crammed, sir, with your blasphemy." "Is this a time to stand on words?" inquired De Guerre, with great quietude of manner. "We have different modes of expression, but they tend towards the same end--at least so you would have me believe. We have both in view the happiness of Mistress Cecil." "You speak truly," replied the other; "and having so good an object to attain, it is meet that we use the worthiest means to achieve it; a lily should not be trained and nourished by a sullied hand." The youth bowed, though, when he afterwards thought upon the simile, he pondered on the strangeness that one like Wellmore should seek metaphors from the flowers of the field. But nature and its feelings are rooted in the heart of the warrior and the statesman, as well as in that of the tenderest maid who tends the sheep or milks the lowing kine; the difference alone is that many things besides find place within the worldling's bosom, while her breast is one sweet and gentle storehouse for God and for his works. "You would prevent this marriage?" reiterated the soldier. Walter again bowed; but the gesture intimated impatience. "You are opposed to the present system, and would have it changed?" he continued. "Where is the use of this repetition?" said De Guerre. "You know all this, and from myself: imprudent I have been, but not deceitful." "And you would see the Protector of these realms brought to the---- Can you not finish the sentence?" "I would, and I would not, see him brought to the block," replied Walter, with manly frankness. "I come of a race who loved the Stuarts; in some degree I have been cherished by them. Yet, though a most desperate----" "Out with it, sir," said the Major hastily, filling up the pause in De Guerre's sentence. "Out with it! I am accustomed to hear him abused." "A most desperate villain; still there is a boldness--a native majesty--a---- Dalton has so often praised his bravery." "Dalton! Did Dalton speak well of Cromwell?" interrupted Wellmore. "Yes, well, greatly of him, as an intrepid soldier, as a being to wonder at. Yet he has no right to the high place whereon he sits; and----" "You would pull him down?" "I confess it." "The time will come when I will discuss the merits of this case with you," said Wellmore, after a pause; "albeit I like not discussion; 'tis not a soldier's weapon; but you are worthy of the effort. I like you, though you are mine enemy, and that is more than I can say of many friends. You know nothing of what the country suffered. You know nothing of the sacrifices that man has made for its good. Were not Cromwell and Ireton accused by their own party of favouring the man Stuart? Was not Cromwell obliged to say to Ashburnham and Berkeley, who came to him, as the Parliament thought, on all occasions, and about all things, 'If I am an honest man, I have said enough of the sincerity of my intentions; and if I am not, nothing is enough?' Was he not overpowered by the people's clamours?--They would have a king no longer; the name, sir, the very name was as a foul stench in their nostrils; the time had arrived when the lawgiver was to depart from Judah. Could he, or could any man--ought he, or ought any man to fight against the Lord, or the Lord's people?" He spoke thus far with strength and energy, then suddenly pausing, he added, "But, as I said before, there is time enough for this. As to yourself, young man, if your love towards the lady be firm and true, if your wishes for her welfare be pure and holy, if you are a true patriot--behold! I will tell you--for this came I hither--say that you will be one of the standing army of England! say but the word--to enjoy rank, opportunities of distinction, honour, and Constance Cecil as your bride!" He paused as for reply, but the Cavalier made none; he only leaned his head against his hand, as if communing with himself. "She will be miserable," persisted the crafty soldier; "inevitable misery will be her lot; and you can prevent it, if you please." He fixed his eyes upon Walter, as if to read the secrets of his soul; then, unsatisfied with the scrutiny, continued--"Burrell, as you have observed, cannot make her happy: so much beauty, so much worth!--you cannot hesitate--your single arm could not accomplish the end you aim at." "Peace, tempter, peace!" exclaimed the Cavalier, bursting as fearlessly and as splendidly from his repose as the sun from behind a dark but yet silent thunder-cloud. "You might have conquered," he continued in a more subdued tone, "had not the knowledge of the love of Constantia Cecil saved me, as it has often done. She would only loathe the man who could change his principles from any motive but conviction. Enough, sir--enough, sir! I know not who you really are; but this I know, I would no more see her despoiled of her rectitude than of her chastity. Had she been here, she would have acted as I have done:--no, she would have acted better, for she would not have hesitated." The veteran remained silent for a few moments after this burst of strong and noble feeling; he then slowly and deliberately put on his hat, drew the thick buff gloves over his muscular hands, resumed the cloak that had fallen from his shoulder, and pointed to the door. "Do you mean," inquired Walter, "that I am at liberty to depart?" "You are to go with me; but you are still to consider yourself under arrest." "To go--whither?" "You go with me. You might have been at liberty; but now--you go with me. And, one word more. Walk gently if you value life, or what may be dearer than life. I am not one to have my will disputed. You will learn as much; but now, I say, walk gently. I wish not to disturb this giddy household: they prate, like others of their sort, of people's doings, and 'tis not meet to grant them opportunity." "I am a man of desperate fortunes now," thought the young Cavalier, as he followed his mysterious guide through some winding and to him unknown passages of the mansion--"a man of desperate fortunes, and care not where I go." As they passed through the shrubbery, he saw distinctly the rays of a lamp stream from Constantia's window. The light fell on a clump of early roses that grew upon a flat and ancient wall, the vestige of some old moat or turret. As they passed nearly at its base, Walter sprang up and pulled one, then shrouded it within his bosom, as he thought, unobserved by his stern warder; but it was not so--the veteran noted the little act, and, noting, understood it. There was a time when he could feel and not define; that time was past, and succeeded by the present, when he could define, but hardly feel. In this instance, however, his memory did him good service; and the remembrance of what his own course had been came upon him with all the freshness of renewed boyhood, so that he could have pressed his youthful and ardent antagonist to his bosom. This sunbeam of the past was not to continue, for he opened a wicket-gate leading into the park, and blew one note, not loud, but clear, upon a whistle. In an instant, as if the grass had produced men, Walter found himself in the midst of mounted soldiers. He looked around him in amazement, and even touched the nearest horse, to be certain that it was not a dream! There they stood, the moonbeams, broken by the overshadowing trees, coming down in dappled spots upon the chargers and their iron-looking riders: carved centaurs could not be more immovable. True, Walter had been absorbed; yet was all this real! There was for him, too, a stout steed, which he was twice desired to mount ere he obeyed. CHAPTER IV. Jointure, portion, gold, estate, Houses, household-stuff, or land, (The low conveniences of fate,) Are Greek no lovers understand. COWLEY. "Verily the Lord scattereth!" was the exclamation of the Reverend Jonas Fleetword, as he passed from one to another of the apartments of Cecil Place, seeking for some one with whom to hold converse, yet finding none. Sir Willmott Burrell was abroad, even at an hour so early; Lady Frances Cromwell closeted with Constantia; Sir Robert Cecil particularly engaged; even Barbara Iverk was not to be found--and the poor preacher had but little chance of either a breakfast or a gossip, or, as he termed it, "a commune." In the course of his wanderings, however, he at length encountered Solomon Grundy, puffing and courtesying under the weight of a huge pasty he was conveying, by a prodigious effort, to the buttery. "Ah, Solomon, my friend," said Fleetword, "of a truth it is a pleasant thing to see thee." "You mean that you behold something pleasant with me," retorted the cook; "and of a verity, your reverence----" "You must not call me reverence; it is one of the designations of the beast;--my voice is raised against it--against the horned beast." "This was a horned beast once," again replied Solomon, observing that the preacher's eye was fixed upon the pasty; "nature may be changed by cookery. It hath lost all the sinful qualities that you talk about, and hath become most savoury and nourishing food: doth it resemble the change that, you say, takes place in the spirit?" "We must not so mingle profane and sacred things," murmured Fleetword, placing his forefinger upon the tempting dish, with a longing and eager look; for he had walked far and was fasting. "Is this one of the baked meats thou art preparing for the coming festival?" "What festival?" inquired the cook, surlily: "I know of no festival. Of a surety, have I laboured in my calling, to furnish forth something worthy of this house; yet, from what I hear, there will be few at this wedding to profit by my skill. I little thought to see our dear young lady so wedded." "Solomon, feasting is foolishness; it savoureth of the mammon of unrighteousness: yet was Nimrod a mighty hunter before the Lord, and Isaac loved seethed kid. Couldst thou extract a morsel of meat from that compound, for of a truth I am an hungered?" "What! spoil my garnishing!" exclaimed Grundy, "look at the frosting of that horn, and the device, the two doves--see'st thou not the doves?" "Yea; but methinks thou mightest take away a portion, without injury to the goodly fabric.--Behold!" and the Reverend Jonas lifted, with the cook's long knife (which he snatched in unbecoming haste from the girdle), the paste of the edge of the gigantic pie, and stole a weighty slice of the venison from beneath. "Ah, ah!" grinned Solomon, evidently pleased at the distinction bestowed upon his compost. "Is it not passing good? But you taste not of the gravy--the gravy!" "It is unseemly to dispose one's heart towards such luxuries; though the saints stand in need of food no less than the young ravens--only it should be in moderation." The preacher gulped down a ladleful of the pottage, and gasped for another, unmindful of his own precept, while the gravy lingered on his lips. "Such as that would soon make you another man," said Solomon, glancing at Fleetword's slender and spindle shanks; "there's nourishment in it." "We all stand in need of regeneration, Solomon, and should desire improvement, even as the hart panteth for the water-brooks; be it improvement of body, or improvement of mind. There was a wise King of Israel of thy name." "What! Grundy, sir? the Grundys were of Lancashire," said the gratified compounder of kitchen-stuff. "Not Grundy; heard ye ever in Scripture of a name like that?" retorted the preacher. "It was Solomon the wise." "I remember him now; he had a many wives. But you can call to mind, sir, when I only wanted to put away old Joan, and marry Phoebe Graceful, you, sir, wouldn't let me. But them old Christians had a deal more liberty." "Peace, fool!" exclaimed Fleetword, somewhat in anger. "Solomon was a Jew." "A Jew!" repeated the cook--"I wonder at your holy reverence to think of such wickedness; surely your reverence does not want me to be like a Jew?" "Solomon, thou art a fool--in bone, in flesh, in marrow, and in spirit. Have I not told thee of the ungodliness of these thoughts?" replied the preacher, as he finished his last morsel. "But, unless I answer thee according to thine own foolishness, I cannot make thee understand. Get me a flagon of double-dub." "With a toast in it?" demanded Grundy, slily peering out at the corner of his eye. "Thou canst comprehend _that_," replied Fleetword: "truly--truly, the creature comforts have absorbed thy whole stock of ideas. Thou art like a sponge, Solomon--a mere fungus. Thou may'st put in the toast. And hark ye! if ye see Barbara, tell her I would speak with her; not here--not here--that would be unseemly--but in the oak parlour, or the library, I care not which." "Now do I wish for Robin Hays," muttered the shrewd yet ignorant cook; "for he would expoundiate, which signifies, make clear--why a parson must not meet a maid in the buttery.--But he is not a parson--Then he is a man--But not only a man, he must be something else, methinks. But why not Barbara go to the buttery? Just in time, here comes Robin; so I'll e'en ask him.--Give you good day, my Kentish man; it was a pity you were not here last night, as you so love a fray. The handsome youth, who had been staying on a visit, was cooped up, because he and Sir Willmott fought about my Lady Constance. And then the Major--he has been here two or three times, and they call him Wellmore--although worthy Jabez Tippet, the boatman, swears--no, not swears--declares, that no such person ever crosses the ferry:--yet is he dumb as a tortoise as to who does. Well, the Major and the young gentleman went off in a flash of lightning, or something of the sort; for Sir Willmott and my master could not find him. And I asked Barbara about it! but marry, she knows nothing, and therefore says nothing----" "Which proves her different from the other sex; for they sometimes know next to nothing, yet say a great deal," retorted Robin, sarcastically. "Humph!" replied Grundy; "you look chuffish this morning, Master Robin: have you got any thing ready for the bridal?" "Don't worry me," exclaimed Robin; "what care I for bridals, or bridles either, unless I could fix one in your mouth? Where's Barbara?" "The very thing I want to know; for that holy man, the preacher Fleetword, having communed with the pasty, would fain commune with the maid--not in the buttery though. And now, methinks, I had a question to put to you--Why is it unseemly for a man to----" The cook held up his hand in his usual oratorical style, so that it stood out like a substantial fan before his face, and touching the second finger of his left with the forefinger of his right, was proceeding with his inquiry, when he perceived that Robin had vanished! "Robin! Robin Hays! oh! thou heedless, and most faithless person! thou Jacky Lantern!" he exclaimed, and then followed, as he thought, the passage that Robin had taken. It happened, however, to be the opposite one, so that he received not the required information. Robin sought Barbara in every place where it was likely she might be found, but without success; being unable to enter the more private apartments of the dwelling, he applied to one of the damsels of Lady Frances' suite. "Oh, you seek Mistress Barbara, do you, young man?" and she cast her eyes over Robin's mis-shapen figure with an expression of contempt that could not be mistaken; then passed her finger along the braid of hair that bounded the border of a plain cap, made of the richest lace; pulled down her stomacher, and apparently waited for the Ranger's reply. Robin reddened to the eyes, for he could but impatiently brook such personal scrutiny; and his annoyance increased when he saw that his embarrassment was noticed by his courtly companion. "We do not call her mistress here," he said at length; "but I pray you tell me where she is--I mean the Lady Constantia's attendant, little Barbara Iverk." "I know who you mean perfectly well," replied the pert woman in authority; "we of the court are not thick-headed, as you of the country may be, so I will explain fully to your----" she tittered rudely and loudly; but Robin's pride was nettled, and he heeded it not; "to your----but I wouldn't laugh, if I could help it. Barbara wished to know how the attendants were dressed when my Lady Mary was married so very lately to my Lord Fauconberg; and, as we of the court always carry our wardrobes with us, and the simple girl being my size--she hath a marvellously fine person for one country-bred--I dressed her as was fitting in my robes: a white striped silk petticoat, and a white body made of foreign taffeta, the sleeves looped up with white pearls, no cap upon her head, but a satin hood just edged with Paris lace. 'Od's Gemini! young man, if you had but seen her. Then all of a sudden her lady wanted her to get some flowers, and she had only time to throw on her cardinal and run for them." "Then she is in the garden?" "By the Fairy Ring, I take it; for there the best flowers grow." Robin did not tarry to thank the court damsel for her information, but bounded right away to the garden, cursing the rude laugh that again insulted him. As he drew near the Ring, he heard a faint shriek. His quick ear knew at once that it came from the lips of Barbara; and bursting through the trees, he was in an instant by her side. It will take many words to describe what had passed in a single moment. Barbara, dressed as Lady Frances' woman had described, was on her knees before a slight, sallow youth, who held an unsheathed dagger in one hand, and spoke in a language that was a mixture of some foreign tongue and most imperfect English. Barbara, pale and trembling, evidently did not understand a word the other said, yet knelt with hands and face upturned, while the boy brandished the weapon, as if in the act of striking. As his dark eye flashed upon his victim, it caught sight of the Ranger, who rushed from the thicket to her side. With a piercing cry, the boy sprang away into an almost impenetrable underwood, that skirted the portion of the Fairy Ring most distant from the house. Barbara no sooner saw Robin than she attempted to rise; but she was unequal to any further exertion, and sank fainting on the grass. When she recovered, she found herself in the same spot, with her head on Robin's shoulder. Her spirits were relieved by a burst of tears; and, withdrawing her head, she wept plentifully in her hands, heedless of the drops that crept through her small fingers, and fell abundantly on the white silk petticoat the waiting-maid so highly prized. Robin had always thought her beautiful, but he had never avowed it to himself so decidedly as now. Her long, luxuriant hair, no longer twisted and flattened under her Puritan cap, flowed over the simple, but, to Robin's eyes, superb dress in which she was arrayed; the drapery rather added to, than lessened, the pure and holy look which is the soul and essence of virgin loveliness; and he never felt his own worthlessness so much, as while thus contemplating Barbara at the very moment when she was a thousand times dearer to him than ever. She was the first to speak, as passing her hand over her eyes, then looking up between their long silken lashes, smiling as a young child at the danger that was past, and retaining only the remembrance of it, because it brought to her gentle and affectionate mind another proof of Robin's attachment and protecting care, she stretched out her hand, all gemmed as it was, and sobbed, even while smiling,-- "Dear, good Robin! he would have killed me. Are you quite sure he is gone? Come near me, Robin; he will not come back while you are here. I am sure he mistook me for some one else, for--" she spoke in a low tone, "I saw him once before, Robin Hays," still lower, "at the Gull's Nest Crag, only last night." "I knew the little rascal was after no good; and to pretend dumbness too!" "Dumbness!" repeated Barbara. "Did he pretend to be dumb?--and do you know him?" "I do know that he, in some degree, stole his passage over in---- But no matter; I'll clip his wings, and blunt his dagger, I warrant me; he shall play no more such pranks. To frighten _you_, my Barbara!--what could be the motive? serious injury he could not intend." "Ah, Robin!" said Barbara, shuddering, "you did not see his eyes as I did, or you would not say so; such eyes! Ah, I should have been bitterly frightened had I not prayed this morning. Dear Robin, why do you not pray?" Robin looked at her and sighed--"Could you understand nothing of what he said?" inquired he. "I heard him repeat the name of Burrell, and that of my dear lady, two or three times; but what he meant I cannot fathom. Oh, but he had a wild and terrible look! Why should he seek to harm me?" "Why, indeed!" echoed Robin; "it must be seen into, and that immediately. I'll speak anon of it to Dalton." "To Dalton!" in her turn echoed the girl--"Oh! that fearful man----" "There is no one under the sun who has more love for you than he has--than Hugh Dalton." "I am sure he knew my father." "He did, indeed: but question me no farther now, sweet Barbara; make your mind quite easy, the outrage shall not be repeated. Perhaps the boy is crazed. Let's think no more of it, my gentle girl. I must bid you farewell." "Farewell, Robin! Why--wherefore? Tell me, where are you going? When do you return? How long do you stay?" "Now, if I were a king, and one that woman could look upon and love, I would give the half, the whole of my kingdom, to be sure she feels as earnestly as she speaks," thought Robin. She perceived the coldness of his look, and continued, though with a changed expression,-- "What ails you? Have I angered you? Will you be thus wayward with your poor Barbara?" "My Barbara!" he repeated bitterly, and he touched the Frenchified hood that hung over her shoulders: "my Barbara! would these trappings become any one that belonged to such a thing as me? Rare contrasts we should be! Methinks such bravery does ill adorn a simple Puritan; one professing such principles should don a plainer robe. Gems, too, upon your sleeves!--is not a bright, but modest eye, a far more precious jewel? If it can be outshone by any other ornament, it is worth nothing." He turned from her as he spoke, and tears again gathered in her eyes. "Robin," she said in a broken voice, "it was Mistress Alice put them on, to show me the proper tiring for a bower-maiden at a great festival--such as my lady's ought to be.--But I will take them off--all off, if you like them not." "Nor sigh for them again?" "Sigh for such as these!" she repeated, looking on her finery with disdain. "No, Robin, young as I am, I have learned better things. The linnet would look ill tricked out in parrot's feathers. Not but I think the bravery becoming, though, perhaps, not to me;--surely no, if you like it not! But whither are you going? only tell me that. Alas! that dark and black-browed boy has so confounded me, that I know not what I say. The last night's fray has sore distressed me too:--you know it all." "Hush, Barbara! 'Tis of that I would speak; it is that which takes me from you--but only for a few days--it cannot be very long;--yet I must find out where he is. I know the hands his wilfulness has thrown him into, but I think they will save him from worse treachery. Nevertheless, I must to London, and, if I cannot find him there, I must elsewhere seek him out. If any ask for me, you will remain silent; and, dear girl, if chance should throw you in Dalton's way, (it is likely he may be here in a few days, perhaps before I return,) speak him kindly and gently; bear with him, as you have borne with me." "That is impossible," interrupted Barbara, "for there is no reason why I should do so. He was never kind to me." "But the time is coming when he will be kind. And now adieu, Barbara. I desired much to remain; but I cannot. I imagined I might be useful to Mistress Constance, but I could not; it rests not with me." "I am very sorry you are going, Robin; for now, when I think of it, my heart is heavy within my bosom; I know not why it should be so. You are sure you can prevent that wild bad boy from frightening me again?" "Quite sure. I'll lock him up within the Crag till my return." "Thank you, Robin; but he will be kindly treated." "To be sure he will." "Thank you again;--but still the weight is here--_here_ on my heart. Do you think it would be very wrong to wear this dress at my lady's bridal?" Robin smiled at the earnestness and simplicity that characterised this child of nature. "Oh, no; but if you love such, I can get you far finer garments." "Can you indeed?" she exclaimed joyfully:--"But no," she added in a sadder voice, "no bravery for me after this bridal. I dreamed a dream last night. Do you believe in dreams, Robin? Listen: I thought we were all standing at an altar in the ruined chapel." "Who? All?" inquired the Ranger, eagerly. "My lady and that man, and----" she paused. "Who?" again inquired Robin. "Why you: 'twas but a dream, you know," she added, blushing to the temples. Then, as the colour faded from her calm face, even more quickly than it came, she continued, "And we all looked so beautiful! and I thought you so like the Cavalier Walter, and I felt so peaceful and happy. But just as you touched my hand, there came a mist between us--a dense and chilling mist, that made the marrow curdle in my bones, and my joints stiff and iron-bound; and a voice, a low mournful voice, like the wail of a dying bird, said, 'Come!'--and I attempted to answer, 'Not yet;' but my tongue felt frozen to my teeth, and my teeth were as icicles within my lips; and I was enshrouded in the mist. Then suddenly a pang shot through my heart, as if it were the dart of death, and I would have screamed, such was its agony; but still my tongue was frozen! And I suffered, I cannot tell you what: when suddenly a soft breath breathed upon my cheek, and it felt warm and soothing, and a voice--sounding--I may as well tell it all, Robin--so like yours, said, 'Pray.' And as I prayed--not in words, but in spirit, the pain departed from me, and the blood flowed again through my veins; and gazing upwards, I found that I was not in the ruined chapel, but in the presence of the blessed Saviour! He looked upon us--upon us both----" "Stop, Barbara!" exclaimed Robin, whose imagination, at all times easily worked upon, now became absolute torture, "for mercy, stop! It was but the dream of a weak girl." For the first time since she had grown to woman's estate, he pressed her to his bosom, and then silently walked with her to the little gate that led to the garden. "Let Crisp stay with me. Bright-eye and he agree better than usual," said Barbara with a quiet smile. "I will," replied Robin, adding, as he turned away, "Trust in the God you worship, and put no faith in dreams." CHAPTER V. Tell men of high condition That rule affairs of state, Their purpose is ambition, Their practice only hate; And if they once reply, Then give them all the lie. Tell Wit how much it wrangles In tickle points of niceness-- Tell Wisdom she entangles Herself in over-wiseness; And when they do reply, Straight give them both the lie. JOSHUA SILVESTER. Robin had, doubtless, good reasons for the hint he had given Barbara, that she might soon again see the Buccaneer, and that she would do well to use that forbearance towards him which she had so kindly and so invariably practised towards the Ranger. After leaving her, as we have stated, in safety at one of the entrances to Cecil Place, he proceeded to the Gull's Nest. His first inquiries were concerning the boy who had contrived to steal a passage on board the Fire-fly from France to England, and who had pretended dumbness. How the youth got on board his vessel, Dalton could not imagine; although, when the discovery was made, his feigning the infirmity we have mentioned succeeded so well, that the Buccaneer absolutely believed he could neither hear nor speak, and sympathised with him accordingly. The indignation of Dalton was quickly roused by the outrage described by Robin Hays: he was, moreover, much exasperated that such a deception should have been successfully practised on himself. Nothing is so sure to anger those who duly value their penetration, as the knowledge that they have been duped by those they consider inferior to themselves: indeed, the best of us are more ready to pardon bare-faced wickedness than designing cunning;--we may reconcile ourselves to the being overpowered by the one, but scarcely ever to the being over-reached by the other. Springall had quitted Cecil Place the morning after his encounter with Major Wellmore, of whom he persisted in speaking as "the strong spectre-man;" and neither Robin's entreaties nor Dalton's commands could prevail on or force him again to take up his abode within the house. "I know not why I should remain," he said; "the girls flout and laugh at my 'sea-saw ways,' as they call them; and though Barbara is a trim craft, well-built and rigged too, yet her quiet smile is worse to me than the grinning of the others. I'll stay nowhere to be both frightened and scouted: the Captain engaged me to weather the sea, not the land, and I'd rather bear the cat a-board the Fire-fly, or even a lecture in the good ship Providence, than be land-lagged any longer." He was present in the room at the Gull's Nest when Robin recounted to the Buccaneer the peril in which Barbara had been placed; and the young sailor speedily forgot the meek jesting of the maiden in the magnitude of her danger. "The black-eyed boy has not been near the house all day," added Springall, "and my own belief is, that he's no he, but a woman in disguise. My faith on it, Jeromio's in the secret, as sure as my name is Obey Springall! Jeromio understands all manner of lingoes, and would be likely to consort with any foreigners for filthy lucre: he has ever ventures of his own, and this is one." "There may be wisdom in thy giddy pate," observed the Buccaneer thoughtfully. "God help me! dangers and plots gather thickly around, and my wits are not brightening with my years." "Marry, it's no woman," observed Mother Hays; "I could not be deceived--it's a dark-browed boy," lowering her voice, "very like what Prince Charlie was, as I remember him, but with rather a Jewish look for a Christian prince." "Robin," said Dalton, taking the Ranger aside, "if this most loathsome marriage cannot be stayed--if what I mean to do should fail--my daughter must seek another home and another protector. Were Miss Cecil to become the wife of Sir Willmott Burrell, under _their_ roof Barbara should not bide--the kite's nest is a bad shelter for the ring-dove." "Where would you take her?--who would protect her?" inquired Robin earnestly. "Faith, I know not. I'll to Sir Robert Cecil this day--speak to him about some matters of our own, and then be guided by circumstances as to the disposal of my daughter.--My daughter! that word sends the blood to and from my heart in cold and then in hot gushing streams! But, Robin, you must not tarry; close watch shall be set for this dangerous imp, to prevent farther mischief; and if Springall's conjecture should be right--yet it is most wild, and most improbable!--What disguise will you adopt in this pursuit of our heedless friend?" "As yet, I know not; I must suit it to the times and to the persons I encounter; a pedlar's will do me best at present; a pack is a fitting nook for concealment. Dear Captain, look well to Jeromio; he never meant you honest." "I believe you are right, Robin; and yet why should I quarrel with men's honesty? they have as good a right to label mine with the foul word 'spurious.' This damning thing within my breast, that saints call conscience, how it has worked me lately! Poison is nothing to it: but it will soon be over, if the boy were safe, and my own Barbara would but pray for me, after the fashion of her mother." He paused, then striking his forehead violently, as if to banish thought, continued, "You go to London straight?" "Ay, sure, and have secreted the invoices you spoke of, for the good merchant beyond St. Paul's, who ordered the rich velvets, counting, perhaps, upon a coronation." "I hope he has a better chance of selling them than that affords. Noll will hardly dare it; his name--Protector--gives as much power, and 'tis as a fencing-master's guard, ever at hand to turn aside the sneers against his ambition. Thought'st thou of the pearls for my Lord Fauconberg's rich jeweller?" "Ay, master, they are safe; those I will myself deliver; though, from what the journals say, his Lordship has small need of new trimming. 'Twas the public talk, when you made me act the respectable character of spy in Sir Willmott Burrell's service--at the court, sir, they talked of nothing else--how the King of France, with his own hands, made him a present of a gold box, inlaid with diamonds, that had upon the lid, on the outside, the arms of France, composed of three large jewels, and, in the inside, the monarch's own picture;--the Cardinal Mazarine, too, gave him a dozen pieces of the richest Genoese velvet; and then his Lordship, not to be outdone, made him a gift of equal value;--and then, I forget me what was the next--and the next--and the next--and the next; but it was mighty fine trafficking, that I know." "Ay, Robin, 'nothing for nothing' is the statesman's motto. Now, give you good speed and success! You can send to me almost from any part of the kingdom in a few hours. Spare no efforts for _his_ freedom--Jack Roupall's confession proves but too truly, that Sir Willmott is sworn against his life; and, till that ruffian is done for, or quieted, there is no safety for Walter. I have sent Jack on private work to the West; so he is out of the way--that's one comfort. Great interest have I in the boy; next to my own child, there is nothing I love so much. And now, Robin, farewell!" When Robin bade adieu to his mother, she began to weep and wail, after the natural custom of mothers, high and low. "Ah! you are ever on the rove; ever on the wander! You will be on your ranges, some of these odd days, when I depart this life; and then you'll never know what I have to tell you." "If it were any thing worth telling, you would have told it long ago; for a woman cannot keep a secret, that we all know." "Ah, boy! boy! God bless you, and good-by! I wonder will that wench, Barbara, think to send me a bit of the bride-cake? I warrant I have a sweet tooth in my head still, albeit I have but two." And after some more idle talk, and much caressing, they parted. "My poor old mother!" thought Robin Hays, "she does excellently well as a mother for me; but think of such as Barbara calling her by such a title!" And he whistled on his way, though not "for want of thought;" his feelings and affections were divided between Barbara Iverk and Walter De Guerre. We must now proceed with Hugh Dalton a second time to Cecil Place. His interview with the baronet was of a nature very different from that with which our narrative commenced. Sir Robert seemed as if the weight of a hundred years had been pressed upon his brow; indeed, Time could not have so altered any man. It was not the deed of Time that made the eye vigilant, even in its dimness--the hand, though trembling almost to palsy, fumble with the sword-handle--that racked the poor, withering, and shrinking brain, within its multiplied cabinets, by a thousand terrors--such was not the work of Time. How different was his, from the hoary, but holy age, that ushers an aged, and it may be a worn, but godly and grateful spirit, to an eternity of happiness!--when the records of a good man's life may be traced by the gentle furrows that nature, and not crime, has ploughed upon the brow--the voice, sweet, though feeble, giving a benison to all the living things of this fair earth--the eye, gentle and subdued, sleeping calmly within its socket--the heart, trusting in the present, and hoping in the future; judging by itself of others, and so judging kindly (despite experience) of all mankind, until time may have chimed out his warning notes! A thousand and a thousand times had Sir Robert cursed the evil destiny that prompted him to confess his crime to his daughter; and his curses were more bitter, and more deep, when he found that Sir Willmott Burrell had played so treacherous a part, and inveigled him under total subjection. "And is it Sir Willmott Burrell who is to procure me a free pardon and an acknowledged ship? Trust my case to Sir Willmott Burrell!" growled Dalton, as he sat opposite the enfeebled baronet: his hands clenched, his brows knit, and his heart swelling in his bosom with contending feelings. "Trust my case to Sir Willmott Burrell!" he repeated. "And so, Sir Robert Cecil, you have sold your soul to the devil for a mess of pottage, a mess of poisoned pottage! You have not, you say, the poor power of obtaining the most trifling favour for yourself. But I say again, Look to it; for, by the God in heaven, I will have my suit or my revenge." "Revenge has come!" groaned forth the unfortunate man. "Is it not enough that my child, that high-souled, noble creature, knows of my guilt! All this day, and yesterday too, she would not see me. I know how it is--I am as a leper in her eyes." "Your daughter!--your daughter know your crime!" said the Buccaneer: "How, how was that?--Who told, who could have told her such a thing?--who had the heart?--But stay!" he continued, with his rude but natural energy, the better feelings of his nature coming out at once, when he understood what the baronet must have endured under such circumstances:--"stay, you need not tell me; there is but one man upon earth who could so act, and that man is Sir Willmott Burrell.--The villain made a shrewd guess, and fooled ye into a confession. I see through it all!--And are you so mean a coward?" he continued, turning upon Sir Robert a look of ineffable contempt--"are you cowardly enough to sacrifice your daughter to save yourself? I see it now; the secret that Burrell has wormed from you is the spear that pushes her to the altar; and you--_you_ suffer this, and sell her and her lands to stay his tongue! Man, man, is there no feeling at your heart? Have ye a heart? I--I--a rude, untaught savage, whose hands are stained with blood, even to the very bone; who have been as a whirlwind, scattering desolation; over the deck of whose vessel has floated the pennon of every land, working destruction as a pastime; I, myself, would brand myself as a brigand and a Buccaneer--scorch the words, in letters of fire, on my brow, and stand to be gazed upon by the vile rabble at every market-cross in England, sooner than suffer _my_ humble child to sacrifice the least portion of herself for me!" Dalton paused for breath; Sir Robert Cecil hid his face from the flashing of his angry eye. "Dalton!" he said at length, "I cannot do it, honoured as I have been, bearing so long an unspotted name, venerated at the court, praised by the people! Besides, I am sure Sir Willmott loves her; his whole conduct proves----" "--Him to be what I have often declared him, and will again once more--a double-distilled villain!" interrupted the Buccaneer with renewed energy. "But what is this to me?" he added, stopping abruptly in the midst of his sentence--"What have I to do with it? My revenge upon you both is certain, unless my own purpose be accomplished--and it shall be accomplished for my child's sake. I will find out Sir Willmott, and tell him so to his teeth. Sir Robert Cecil, farewell! You, I suppose, are a courtly, a gentlemanly father! Pity that such should ever have children!" and gathering his cloak around him, he left the room without uttering another word. We may omit our account of the interview between the Buccaneer and Sir Willmott Burrell; merely observing that it had the effect of chafing both in no ordinary degree. "If I did but dare show myself at Whitehall," muttered Dalton, as he quitted the room in which he had conversed with his base opponent, "how I should be revenged! Nay, the delight I should feel in giving their deserts to both would make me risk my life, were it not for my girl's sake; but my pardon once obtained, sets me at liberty in England--Let them look to it, then." As he loitered in one of the passages leading to the back entrance, Barbara crossed his path. At first she did not recognise him, for in the day-time he wore many disguises; and his present one was, a Geneva band and gown, covered with a long cloak of black serge. Having coldly returned his salutation, she turned into a closet to avoid further parley; but he followed, and shut the door. Barbara, who on all occasions was as timid and as helpless as a hare, trembled from head to foot, and sank on the nearest seat, her eyes fixed upon the Skipper and her quivering lip as pale as ashes. "Barbara," he said, "you are afraid of me--you are afraid of me, child," he repeated, almost angry with her at the moment, although the feeling was so perfectly natural. "Robin told me not to be afraid," she replied, at last; and then looking about for a chair, pointed to one at the farthest corner of the small room. "There is a seat, sir!" "I see you want me to be as far away from you as possible, Barbara," he replied, smiling mournfully. "Not now," she said, rising, and moving nearer, until she stood at his side and looked into his face, pleased at the softened expression of his features; "I am not, indeed, afraid of you now, sir. The first thing I did not like you for, was for offering me money; the second--but I beg your pardon" (bowing her head)--"I make too free, perhaps?" Dalton, gratified at any mark of confidence, encouraged her to go on--"The second was--your name;--I heard of a daring man called Hugh Dalton--a ruthless, cruel man--a man of----" "Speak out, Barbara; you cannot anger me." "A man of blood!" and she shuddered at her own words. "But I am sure one thing Mistress Cecil said was true--'that we are not to put faith in all we hear.' Now, I believe all she says, and all Robin Hays says; and he speaks so kindly of you. And another thing, sir, makes me think so well of you is--that you knew my father--Nay, I am sure you did," she continued, laying her hand on his arm and looking into his countenance, which he turned away to conceal his emotion. "I am certain you did, Robin told me as much, and Mistress Constance did not deny it; and now that you are here, so gentle, and so kind, I am sure you will tell me. Do, dear, good sir. Did you not know my father? my poor dear, dear father!" All Dalton's resolutions of silence, all his resolves melted into airy nothings at the sound of that sweet soft voice. Tears, the only tears of pleasure that had for years moistened the cheek of the reckless Buccaneer, burst from his eyes: he could not speak; he felt weak as a new-born infant; his limbs trembled; he would have fallen to the ground, had not the feeble girl supported him. In a moment she perceived and understood the whole truth, and exclaimed,-- "You--you are my father!" "And you do not shrink? Do not turn away from me," he said fondly. "How like your mother you are, now that your eyes are filled with love, not fear!" "And my mother loved you?" she inquired. "Ay, girl. Why do you ask?" "Because," replied Barbara, laying her head on his bosom, as, if, like a young bird, she had found a home and peace within the parent nest, "because, if my mother loved you, you cannot be a bad man; and I am satisfied." The most beautiful feature in Barbara's character was, as we have said, her trustfulness; she had no idea of guilt. She heard of crime as a thing abroad in the world, but she could never identify it with persons: her mind was a compound of feeling and affection; and with the beautiful and earnest simplicity of truth, she perfectly believed that her father could not be wicked. "I will tell my lady how my mother loved you, and then she will know you cannot be the wild man we took you for." "Tell her nothing, sweet, about me. In a little time I shall be able to take you to a proper home; only mark this, you must never go to the home of Sir Willmott Burrell." "Ah! he is very wicked, I have heard; and yet you see how wrong it is to believe evil of any one; but I know that he is evil, if ever man was," was the maid's reply, reverting almost unconsciously to her father's situation. "Let us talk of nothing evil, Barbara, during the few moments I can remain with you now. Remember, you are to tell your lady nothing about me." "I do not see how I can help it." "Why?" "Because she has ever told me to tell her all things, and I have obeyed. Ah, sir--father, you know not how good she is to me, and how she cries, dear lady! Ever since this marriage has been fixed upon, she has wept unceasingly." The Buccaneer felt at the moment as all parents must feel who desire to preserve their children in innocence, and yet themselves lead vicious lives. To the wicked, lies are as necessary as the air they breathe, as common for use as household stuff. Had Barbara been what is now termed a clever girl, the Buccaneer might have employed her, not as an agent of falsehood--_that_ his delicate love of his child would have prevented--but as an instrument, perhaps, to work some delay in a wedding that humanity, independent of one or two new and latent causes, called upon him to prevent; but in any plot where finesse was necessary, he saw that Barbara would be perfectly useless; and before taking his departure, he only told her she might, if she pleased, inform Mistress Cecil, but at the same time begged of her not to repeat to any one else that he had been there. This Barbara promised to do; and on the assurance that he would soon return, and enable her to show her lady that, instead of being the wild man they both took him for, he was a very peaceable (how the Buccaneer smiled at the word!) person, she suffered him to depart, and then went into her little room, to arrange her ideas, and mingle thanksgivings that she had found a father, with prayers for his safety. CHAPTER VI. But now, no star can shine, no hope be got, Most wretched creature, if he knew his lot, And yet more wretched far because he knows it not. * * * * * * * The swelling sea seethes in his angry waves, And smites the earth that dares the traitors nourish. GILES FLETCHER. The Buccaneer failed not to inquire relative to the pretended dumb boy, but without success: he appeared to have vanished suddenly from before their eyes, and had left no trace behind. After despatching one or two trusty messengers on some particular embassies, Dalton concealed himself in the secret recesses of the crag until the evening fell sufficiently to enable him to get off to the Fire-fly without attracting the observation of any stragglers, or persons who might be on the watch for him or his vessel, which he had left, as before, under the superintendence of Jeromio, with strict orders to move about off Shelness Point, and the strand at Leysdown, and to be ready, on a particular signal, to heave-to and cast anchor nearly opposite the Gull's Nest. Three times had Dalton lighted his beacon on the top of the ruined tower, and three times extinguished it: the signal was at length answered, although not according to his directions, which were light for light. The Buccaneer was, however, satisfied; descended by the private stair to the shore, and pushed off his little boat, having called in vain for Springall, whom he had left at Gull's Nest in the morning. The motion of the oars was but a mechanical accompaniment to his thoughts, which wandered back to his child, to his next beloved, Walter, and to the events through which his chequered life had passed during the last year. Strong as was now Hugh Dalton's affection for his daughter, it is doubtful if it would have had force enough to make him relinquish so completely his wandering and ruthless habits, and adopt the design of serving for a little time under the banner of the Commonwealth, before he completely gave up the sea, had not his declining constitution warned him that at fifty-five he was older than at thirty. He had grown a wiser and a better man than when, in middle age, he ran full tilt with his passions at all things that impeded his progress or his views. A long and dangerous illness, off the Caribbees, had sobered him more in one little month, than any other event could have done in years. Away from bustle and excitement, he had time for reflection, and when he arose from his couch, he felt that he was no longer the firm, strong man he had been. The impressions of early life, too, returned: he longed for his child, and for England; but when he remembered her mother, he could not support the idea that Barbara should know him as he really was. Still his restless mind suggested that occupation would be necessary, and his busy brain soon fixed upon the only way by which honourable employment could be obtained. England had been, for a long series of years in a perturbed and restless state, and Dalton had made himself well known, both by his ingenuity, energy, and bravery: he had been useful as a smuggler, and imported many things of rich value to the Cavaliers--trafficking, however, as we have seen, in more than mere contraband articles. Sir Robert Cecil, as we have shown, was not always the possessor of Cecil Place; and the secret of whatever course he had adopted, or crime he had committed, to obtain such large possessions, was in the keeping of Hugh Dalton. Cromwell had not at all times watched as carefully over the private transactions of individuals, as he was disposed to do during the later years of his Protectorate. Persons obnoxious to the Commonwealth had frequently disappeared; and though Oliver's system of espionage was never surpassed, not even by Napoleon, the Cromwell of modern years, yet it had been his policy to take little or no note of such matters: uniting in himself the most extraordinary mixture of craft and heroism that ever either disfigured or adorned the page of history. Dalton and such men were no longer necessary to bear from the shores of England the excrescences of royalty. Time, the sword, or stratagem had greatly thinned their numbers; yet many recent events proved that loyalists were imported, and assassins hired, and let loose in the country by contraband ships; until, at length, the Protector was roused, and resolved to check the pirates and smugglers of our English strands, as effectually as the gallant and right noble Blake had exterminated them on the open sea. No one was better acquainted with the character, the deeds, and misdeeds of Hugh Dalton, than the all-seeing Cromwell; and so firm a heart as the Protector's could not but marvel at and admire, even though he could neither approve nor sanction, the bravery of the Fire-fly's commander. Dalton knew this, and, in endeavouring to obtain an authorised ship, acted according to such knowledge. He felt that Cromwell would never pardon him, unless he could make him useful; a few cruises in a registered vessel, and then peace and Barbara, was his concluding thought, whilst, resting on his oars, he looked upon his beautiful brigantine, as she rode upon the waters at a long distance yet, the heavens spangled with innumerable stars for her canopy, and the ocean, the wide unfathomable ocean, spreading from pole to pole, circling the round earth as with a girdle, for her dominion. It was one of those evenings that seem "breathless with adoration;" the gentleness of heaven was on the sea; there was not a line, not a ripple on the wide waste of waters; "the winds," to use again the poet's eloquent words, "were up, gathered like sleeping flowers." There was no light in the vessel's bow--no twinkle from the shore--no ship in sight--nothing that told of existence but his own Fire-fly, couching on the ocean like a sleeping bird. "There is a demon spirit within her," whispered Dalton to himself; "the sight of her sends me wild again. Devil that she is! so beautiful! so well proportioned! Talk of the beauty of woman!--But I'll look to her no more--I'll think of her no more!" He again applied himself to the oar, and was pulling steadily towards the ship, when his eye rested upon something black and round in the water. Again he paused in his exertions, and lay-to: the substance floated towards him. He would have shouted, but--no sailor is ever free from superstitious qualms of one sort or another--he remained silent, fixing his eye steadily upon the object. At last it came close, quite close to the boat; and in another instant, Springall was seated in the prow. "Good God! Spring, what's the matter? are you mad? Has anything occurred yonder?" exclaimed Dalton, somewhat alarmed. "Hush!" replied the panting youth; "I can hardly breathe yet." The Skipper was going to pull towards the ship; but the youth laid his hand on that of his master, and ejaculated, "Wait!" Dalton complied, and when Springall could speak, he communicated what astonished the Buccaneer in no small degree:--He said that, having hunted about for the strange blade to no purpose, he tacked off towards the ship, and told Jeromio his master had found that the boy was no boy, but a girl in disguise; that he therefore desired Jeromio to tell him who she really was, as he had secreted her on ship-board, knowing perfectly well she was neither deaf nor dumb:--That Jeromio said, as the master had fished it up, there was no use in making any bones about the matter; for how it happened was, that when they were lying off St. Vallery, this girl, whom he believed to be a Jewess, offered him a large sum of money if he would secrete her on board, at all events until the ship sailed, and if--after concealment was impossible--he would not betray her. She stipulated to be landed upon the Kentish coast; and Jeromio added, that he was sure she had a design upon the life of somebody, and it might be easily guessed who, as she prevailed on him to show her the use and management of fire-arms, and had, besides, a dagger, which she usually carried in her bosom:--That, as she wrote English very imperfectly, she had bribed him to write a letter to Mistress Cecil, saying that, before God, she was the wife of Sir Willmott Burrell, and that if she (Mistress Cecil) persisted in marrying him, she would be revenged!--That he (Jeromio) kept back this letter, because he feared his hand-writing might eventually lead to a discovery that he had been the means of bringing her to England.--Springall detailed this intelligence in much less time than it has occupied us to repeat it; and then pausing, added,-- "But the worst is yet to come. Jeromio--Master, I was right about that fellow!--had hardly finished this account, when a boat hove out, and, at first, we thought it was you, but presently who should come on board but Sir Willmott Burrell, as large as life! Well, Jeromio was precious frightened, as you may suppose, and said it was to inquire after the Jewess; but he took the Italian into your cabin, and--I can't but own I was vastly anxious to know what they were saying----" The greatest villain in the world dislikes to be thought a listener, on the same principle that men would rather be accused of crime than cowardice--of vice than folly; poor Springall stopped and stammered until commanded to go on. "It was a fine day, and, thinking I should like a bath, I let myself down close by the cabin window with a rope. The window was open, and as I hung half in and half out of the water, I could hear every syllable they said, the sea was so calm. Not a word about the Jewess; but that precious villain was listening to a proposal made by the other villain to seize you, this very night, in your own ship, and murder you outright! It's true, master, as I'm alive! Then Jeromio said it would be better to deliver you up, as a rover, to the government; but Sir Willmott made reply, _that_ might answer _his_ purpose, but it would not do for _him_. Then he promised him a free pardon, and tempted him with the riches of the Crag, and other things;--and, as well as I could understand, they fully agreed upon it. And then, for fear of discovery, I was mounting up, when the rope, as ill-luck would have it, broke, and I went tilt splash into the water! Well, Jeromio looked out, and swore at me; but it mattered not: I scrambled up, resolving, as you may suppose, to keep a good look-out; but that double devil, Sir Willmott, was at it again, and would have it that I was listening, and so I was clapped under hatches; and hard enough I found it to steal off to you." "The villain!" exclaimed the Buccaneer. "But the thing is impracticable; there are not more than ten or a dozen of her crew ashore: my brave fellows would never see their captain murdered!" "On what pretext I know not, but he has, during the afternoon, sent the long-boat off with the truest hands aboard. I heard the men talking, as they passed backwards and forwards, that Bill o' Dartmouth, Sailing Jack, Mat Collins, and the Fire-fly rovers, as we used to call them--those boys who had been aboard with you in foreign parts--had gone ashore by your orders; and I know there are five or six--those Martinicos and Sagrinios, and the devil's own O's, that are 'fore and aft in all things with Jeromio. There's no putting faith in any of them, seeing they have a natural antipathy towards us English. So, now, let us put back, sir." "Put back!" repeated Dalton, casting a look of scorn upon poor Springall; "the man's not born who could make me put back!--The ship's my own--and the sea, the broad sea we look upon, is mine, as long as I have strength to dip an oar in its brine, or wit to box a compass! Avast! avast! boy; you know not what you speak of when you talk to Hugh Dalton of putting back!" "They'll murder us both!" said Springall, in a mournful, and almost a reproachful tone. "My poor boy!" replied Dalton looking in his face, and poising on high the oar he had so vigorously dipped in the blue wave--"My true-hearted boy! it would be, indeed, a bad recompense for your devotedness, to lead you into the tiger's den;--for myself, I have no fear;--I will put you on shore, and return." "Never, master!" exclaimed the lad. "There is no one in the wide world I care for but yourself. To serve you, I would venture all. No, no, master, I may be but a poor weak boy in some things, but in this I am a man. I will never leave you while I have power to serve you." "And you will not repent it," observed the Buccaneer; the spirit of former days rallying round his heart at the idea of danger, which ever appeared to him the path to glory: "you will not repent it--in a right cause too. What can I have to fear? I know that the instant I show myself among them, they will return as one man to their duty; and IF THEY DO NOT----" As they neared the vessel, they perceived that not more than five or six of their comrades were, like shadowy things, pacing the deck. Jeromio himself, however, they noted, waiting to receive them. Dalton, who was vigilant as brave, had previously thrown his boat-cloak over Springall, so that he might not be recognised, and handed him a cutlass and pistol. Whether the appearance of two, when he only expected one, or whether the natural dread with which he always, despite himself, regarded his captain, overpowered Jeromio, we may not guess; but as the Buccaneer strode up the ladder, his penetrating look steadily fixed upon the wily Italian, his quick eye perceived that twice he attempted to level a pistol; while his more cowardly accomplices crowded behind him. Had the villain possessed courage enough to fire as Dalton was ascending, his life would in all probability have been the sacrifice; but once upon the deck of his own ship, he was indeed a sea-king! For an instant he stood proudly before Jeromio; then, presenting his pistol to the head of the Italian, who trembled violently, he said as calmly as if he were in the midst of friends,-- "One moment's prayer; and thus I punish traitors----" There was a breathless silence; one might have heard a pin drop upon the deck; the very air seemed to listen within the furled sails. Jeromio's pistol fell from his grasp; he clasped his hands in agony, and falling before the Buccaneer, upon his knees, uttered a brief prayer, for well he knew that Dalton never recalled a doom, and he felt that all had been discovered! In another instant a flash passed along the ship, and danced in garish light over the quiet sea! The bullet shattered a brain ever ready to plot, but never powerful to execute. With unmoved aspect Dalton replaced the weapon, and planting his foot upon the prostrate dead, drew another from his belt. Springall was still by his side, ready to live or die with his commander. "Come on! come on!" said Dalton, after surveying the small and trembling band of mutineers, as a lion of the Afric deserts gazes upon a herd of hounds by whom he is beset. "Come on!" and the sentence sounded like the tolling of a death-bell over the waters, so firmly yet solemnly was it pronounced, as if the hearts of a thousand men were in it. "Come on! Are ye afraid? We are but two. Or are ye still men; and do ye think upon the time when I led ye on to victory, when I divided the spoil of many lands among ye? Ye are friends--countrymen of this--that was a man; yet if ye will, ye shall judge between us. Did I deserve this treachery at his hands? Can one of ye accuse me of injustice?" A loud, a reiterated "No," answered this appeal, and the mutineers rushed forward, not to seize on, but to lay down their weapons at the feet of their captain. "Take up your arms," said Dalton, after casting his eye over them, and perceiving at a single glance that they had truly delivered them all. "Take up your arms: ye were only beguiled; ye are too true to be really treacherous." This most wise compliment operated as oil on the tumultuous sea: the ship-mob fancied they were acting according to the dictates of reason, when they were really under the influence of fear, and then they aroused the tranquillity of the night, shouting long and loudly for the Fire-fly and the brave Buccaneer! Although Jeromio had cunningly despatched several of Dalton's most approved friends in the long-boat to the shore on some pretended business, yet others had been secured below; and, when they were liberated, they created great and noisy jubilee at what they jestingly called "the Restoration." Springall had orders to distribute among them, and without distinction, abundance of rum, while Dalton retired to his cabin, still unmoved, to pen some despatches, which he deemed necessary to send to the main land that night. When he returned on deck, the revellers had retired, and the watch was set. Many of the stars that had witnessed the events we have recorded had sunk, and others had risen in their stead. The midnight air was chill and cold; Jeromio's body lay where it had fallen, stiffening in its gore; for no one cared to meddle with it till the Skipper's pleasure was known as to how it was to be disposed of. Dalton gazed upon it but for an instant, and then ordered that a man named Mudy, the black, and butcher of the ship, should attend him. "Here, Mudy," he exclaimed, "chop me off that rascal's head--quick, do it!" The brute carelessly performed his task. "Now roll the carcass in a sail, and, being well leaded, throw it overboard. Wrap me the head in a clean napkin; I would fain make a present to Sir Willmott Burrell--a wedding present he may think it, if he will. The head to which he trusted will serve the purpose well. I will not send you, Springall, on this errand," he continued, laying his hand gently on the shoulder of the trembling boy, who sickened at the disgusting sight. "Go to your hammock; you shall not sleep there many nights more. You are too good for such a life as this!" He then directed two of his men to row to land, and leave the parcel at the gate of Cecil Place. He also gave them other packets to deliver, with orders to those of his crew who were still on shore; and then, his ship being under sail for another division of the coast, like a mighty but perturbed spirit, he paced the deck till morning. CHAPTER VII. I am not prone to weeping as our sex Commonly are; the want of which vain dew Perchance shall dry your pities; but I have That honourable grief lodg'd here, which burns Worse than tears drown. SHAKSPEARE. It is curious to note how differently persons known to each other, and, it may be, endeared by the ties of relationship, or the still stronger ones of friendship, are occupied at some precise moment, although separated but by a little distance, and for a brief space of time. Life is one great kaleidoscope, where it is difficult to look upon the same picture twice; so varied are its positions, and so numerous its contrasts, according to the will of those who move and govern its machinery. While the hand of the Buccaneer was dyed in blood, his child was sleeping calmly on her pillow;--Sir Robert Cecil pondering over the events of the day, and drawing conclusions as to the future, from which even hope was excluded;--Sir Willmott Burrell exulting in what he deemed the master-stroke of his genius;--and Constance Cecil, the fountain of whose tears was dried up, permitted Lady Frances Cromwell to sit up with her, while she assorted various letters, papers, and other matters, of real or imaginary value, of which she was possessed. Within that chamber one would have thought that Death was the expected bridegroom, so sadly and so solemnly did the bride of the morrow move and speak. She had ceased to discourse of the approaching change, and conversed with her friend only at intervals, upon topics of a trifling nature; but in such a tone, and with such a manner, as betrayed the aching heart; seldom waiting for, or hearing a reply, and sighing heavily, as every sentence obtained utterance. Her companion fell into her mood, with a kindness and gentleness hardly to be expected from one so light and mirthful. "I am sure," she observed, "I have deeper cause for grief than you, Constantia; my father is so obstinate about Mr. Rich. He treats his family as he does the acts of his parliament, and tries to make use of both for the good of the country." Constantia smiled a smile of bitterness; Lady Frances little knew the arrow, the poisoned arrow, that rankled in her bosom. "Oh, I see you are preserving Mrs. Hutchinson's letters. How my sister Claypole esteems that woman! Do you think she really loves her husband as much as she says?" "I am sure of it," was Constantia's reply, "because he is worthy of such love. I received one letter from her, lately; she knew that I was to be--to change my name--and kindly (for the virtuous are always kind) wrote to me on the subject; read over these passages." Lady Frances was about to read them aloud, but Constantia prevented her. "I have read it over and over, dearest, though wherefore I hardly know; my lot is cast in a way so different from that she imagines. The precepts are for the promotion of happiness, which I can never expect to enjoy--never to be cited as an example of connubial excellence. I shall leave no record that people in after years will point at, and say, Behold, how lovingly they lived together! But read it, Frances, read it: to you it may prove salutary, for you will be happy in your union, and with one whom you can love." The Lady Frances took the letter with a trembling hand, and read as follows:-- "Richmond, 1657, the 2d day of June. "Your letter, which I had the happiness to receive some time since, my dear young friend, notwithstanding its melancholy theme, afforded me real satisfaction. It is true that your loving mother has been removed; but blessed is the knowledge which instructs you that she and all her excellences came from God, and have now but been taken back to their own most perfect source; that you are parted for a moment, to meet again for eternity! Her soul conversed so much with God while it was here, that it rejoices to be now freed from interruption in that hallowed exercise. Her virtues were recorded in heaven's annals, and can never perish: by them she yet teaches us, and all those to whose knowledge they shall arrive. 'Tis only her fetters that have been removed; her infirmities, her sorrows that are dead never to revive again--nor would we have them: we may mourn for ourselves that we walk so tardily in her steps, that we need her guidance and assistance on the way. And yet, dearest Constance, but that the veil of tearful mortality is before our eyes, we should see her, even in heaven, holding forth the bright lamp of virtuous example and precept, to light us through the dark world we must for a few years tread. "But I have heard tidings lately, and from the Lady Claypole too, of which, methinks, to your mother's friend, you have been over chary. Ah! maidens care not to prate of their love affairs to matrons. Silly things! they would go their own course, and think for themselves! without knowing how to go, or what to think! The besetting sin of youth is--presumption: but it is not your sin, my gentle girl; it was some species of modesty withheld your pen--yet I heard it. My husband, albeit not a very frequent guest at Whitehall, pays his respects there sometimes, mainly out of his duty and regard to the Lady Claypole; for he is no scorner of our sex, and holds it a privilege to converse with wise and holy women. She informed him, and not as a matter of secrecy, that you would soon be wedded to Sir Willmott Burrell; and, although we know him not, we readily believe that he is a good and honest gentleman, commanding our esteem, because beloved of you--the which, I pray you, advise him of--and say we hope he will number us among his friends. I never doubted your wisdom, Constantia, and those cannot wed well who do not wed wisely. By wisely, I do not mean that longing after foolish gain and worldly aggrandisement, which vain women, alas! covet more than the enjoyment of their lives and the salvation of their souls. I would have a woman seek for her husband one whom she can love with an ardent, but not idolatrous passion; capable of being a firm, consistent friend; who has sufficient knowledge and virtue to sit in council within her bosom, and direct her in all things. Having found such, the wife should desire and strive to be as a very faithful mirror, reflecting truly, however dimly, his own virtues. I have been long wedded, and, thank God, most happily so. We have become as a proverb among our friends; and matrons, when they bless their daughters at the altar, wish them to be as happy as Lucy Hutchinson. Had your blessed mother lived, my advice might have been almost impertinent; but now, I am sure you will not take it ill of a most true friend to speak a little counsel: my words may be but as dew-drops, yet there is a spirit within you that can convert them into pearls. But counsel ought to be preceded by prayer--and I have prayed--Will you take ill the supplication? I know you will not. "I am also sure that you will not consider unacceptable the prayer I am about to transcribe in this my letter. It was written by my dear husband, some time after the exceeding goodness of God made us one; and we feel much comfort and encouragement in repeating it each morn and eve, ere the cares and turmoils of the day are come, or when they have departed. May it have a like influence on you, my sweet friend! May your destiny be as mine! "'O Lord, divine uniter of true hearts! Grant to thy servants an increase of that blessed gift of grace which is wrought into the soul by thy regenerating Spirit, that so the whole creature may be resigned unto thy will, human love be subservient to that which is heavenly, and all its thoughts, hopes, and actions be directed to thy glory, with whom is its source, and from whom its blessing cometh: Two pray unto thee as one, one in heart, one in interest, one for time, one for eternity. So may it ever be, O Lord! our Maker and our guide, our protector and our friend. We bless and thank thee for the comfort we have found in each other, for the worldly prosperity to which virtue, trustfulness, and faith in thy care have conducted us; for the mutual esteem, confidence, and affection that sway and direct our frail natures, but, above all, for the sure and certain knowledge that when our mortal shall have put on immortality, we shall be one--undivided, inseparable, and eternal.' "'Tis brief, Constantia, but long supplications too often lose in spirit that which the heart cannot make up in words. Prayer should be the concentrated essence of Humility, perfumed by Hope, and elevated by Faith; but you know all this as well as I. I would not presume to instruct, or give you advice upon any point, save this most blessed or most miserable one (to a mind like yours it can have no medium)--marriage! Many young females are beguiled by evil counsel, and thus commence in a careless or obstinate course, which leads them into the thorny path of discontent, and consequent wretchedness. And, first of all, do not fancy that petty tyrannies become a bride. It is the habit of the bridegroom to yield to such like; but, trust me, he loves you not the better for weak fantasies, unless he be a fool; and I pen no lines for fools, or fools' mates. I have no sympathy with a woman weak or wicked enough to wed a fool. In the honeymoon, then, study your husband's temper; for the best of men--and women too--carry (it may be unconsciously) a mask during the days of courtship, which, if not taken off, wears off, and you must strive to know him as he really is; remembering that though lovers may be angels, husbands are only mortals. Looking within at the imperfection of our own nature, we learn to make allowance for the faults they may possess. "For my own part, my only wonder has been how a man, like Colonel Hutchinson, could so kindly pity my infirmities, and correct them after such a fashion that his blame has ever sounded sweeter in my ears than the praise of the whole world besides. He has looked upon my errors with an indulgent eye, and not suffered them to detract from his esteem and love for me, while it has been his tender care to erase all those blots which made me appear less worthy the respect he every where pays me. "One thing, although I hardly need recall it to a mind like yours, is, above all else, necessary to be remembered--that a maiden has only her own honour in keeping, but a wife has her husband's as well as her own. It was a fine saying that of the ancient Roman: 'The wife of Cæsar must not be suspected.' Suspicion is too often, as the plague-spot, the intimater of a disease, which may either break out, or be suppressed by care or circumstances; but still the intimation has gone forth. Reserve is the becoming garment for the wedded wife--that sweet reserve springing from holy love, which the chastened eye, the moderated smile, the elevated carriage--all betoken;--a something which a pure heart alone can teach, and that a sullied woman never can assume. Study the accomplishments your husband loves with continued assiduity: he may delight in seeing the beauties of his estate miniatured by your pencil, or the foliage of a favourite tree doomed to perpetual spring on your obedient canvass; or, peradventure, delight more in the soft touching of your lute or harpsichord: whatever it may be, study to do it quickly, and cultivate your taste unto his pleasure. I say, do it quickly, in the early days of marriage, because habit is a most tyrannical master. Then, when your affections and your customs tend to the same end, and are, moreover, guided by the all-powerful hand of duty, and under the especial control of godliness, I have little doubt that you will make all that a wife should be. "I would fain counsel you on the custom of a neat and becoming attire; but I have observed that you ever habit yourself, from an innate consciousness of what is just and becoming in your station, and that not from any caring for occasion or love of display. A tall and stately figure, like yours, becomes well the rich satins of France, and the still richer velvets of Genoa; yet I prefer to see a British woman adorned by the artisans of her own land, and I have lately seen some articles of such manufacture of most rare beauty. As to your jewels, consider your husband's desire; if he care for them, deck yourself with much attention, and wear those that please him best. Your mother's diamonds were of the finest water, as befitted her rank, and I am sure you will never carry counterfeits, whether of gems or of gold. I have heard of those who affect the vanity of great expenditure at small cost, and I hold them in contempt; for every thing about a woman should emblem her own heart, and be pure, even as she is pure. Simplicity in dress is ever in harmony with beauty, and never out of place; yet are there state times when it is expected that the high-born carry bravery, as the horses bear high and waving plumes--to make the pageant grand; and though his Highness, at first, deemed it expedient to lessen such extravagance, yet my dear husband assures me that his children lack nothing worthy the state of princes. "But all these matters must be left to the discretion of your judgment, which, if well-tempered, will direct them in a fitting manner; always remembering, the most seemingly insignificant point that contributes the smallest atom to domestic happiness is worthy the attention of a truly wise and peace-loving female. It is better not to be concerned about trifles; but some men, and men not of particularly small minds either, are very anxious as to things which appear of no moment: in that case, the best way is to humour them, and then, by introducing some strong motive, wile them on to better: this must be done skilfully, or it will fail of success. A woman's first desire should be her husband's goodness; her next, his greatness. Matrimony is a bondage, but one that carries with it the protection which is as necessary to a woman as the air she breathes; with a tender husband, after a little time, she will find the chains so overgrown by affection, which is the woodbine of the moral garden, that, instead of being enslaved, behold, she finds peace, love, and safety within the charmed circle. "I commenced a letter, my sweet friend, yet, I fear me, have written an homily; but forgive it, Constance, and take it as it is intended. "I hear the Lady Frances is with you. I pray you call me to her remembrance. She is a lively but honourable lady, and I should be glad that Mr. Rich found favour in the sight of her father; for I do believe her heart has been fixed, at least more fixed upon him than upon any other, for some time. We have been passing a few days in this dear spot--the nest, I may well call it, of our affections. My husband, in the days of his bachelorhood, had been cautioned to take heed of Richmond, as a place so fatal to love, that never any disengaged young person went thither who returned again free; and I wonder not at it, for there is a sober and most happy beauty in its very aspect, that tranquillises and composes the thoughts to gentleness and affection. We have visited our old music-master, at whose house we both boarded for the practice of the lute! He was so pleased to find I still studied! observing that many married ladies relinquished it soon; and he praised my husband's execution on the viol in no small degree. "Adieu, my dear young friend. We crave earnestly to be kindly thought of by him whom your soul 'delighteth to honour!' May the blessing of the Lord dwell within your house, and sanctify all things for your good! Such is the prayer of your true and loving friend, "LUCY HUTCHINSON. "My husband, who is indeed a most kind counsellor in all things, says that I ought to tender any assistance I can offer, seeing that I am near London, and you may require sundry habits befitting a bridal; if so, command my services as fully as you do my affections." Lady Frances placed the letter on Constantia's writing-table, and for some time offered no observation on its contents. "Is not she a beautiful model for a married woman?" inquired Constantia. "It was very good of her to remember a giddy pate like me," replied Frances; "and I do confess that she is one of my perfections, though in general I hate your pattern-women, where every thing is fitted and fitting--women of plaster and parchment--to cut one's character by; who are to be spoken of, not to; who can make no excuse for people's failings, because they think they are themselves exempt from fault; who study devout looks, and leer at their lovers from under their hoods--hole-and-corner flirts, yet held up as pattern-women, bless the term! to innocent and laughter-loving maidens like myself, who having no evil to conceal, speak openly, and love not the conventicle." "But Mrs. Hutchinson is none of these," interrupted Constance. "She is pure in heart--in word--in look. She really has nothing to conceal; she is all purity and grace, and with her husband shared for years the friendship of the illustrious Selden and Archbishop Usher." "Well, I am willing to admit all this," retorted Frances, eager to catch at any thing to divert her friend's melancholy. "But, for all that, I never could feel easy in the society of your very wise people; it is not pleasant to know that those you are speaking to regard you as a fool, though they may be too well-bred to tell you so. And now I remember a story about Selden that always amused me much. When he was appointed among the lay members to sit in the Assembly of Divines at Westminster, one of the ministers, with all the outward show of self-sufficient ignorance, declared that the sea could not be at any very great distance from Jerusalem; that as fish was frequently carried from the first to the last place, the interval did not probably exceed thirty miles! and having concocted this opinion, he gave it forth, as it had been one of the laws of the Medes and Persians, which altereth not! Well, the Synod were about to adopt this inference, when Selden quietly observed, that in all likelihood it was 'salt fish!' Was not that excellent?" "Yet his wit, in my estimation, was his least good quality. Methinks the Commonwealth has reason to be most proud of two such men as John Selden and Archbishop Usher." "But the glory has departed from Israel," was Frances' reply, "for they are gathered to their fathers." "The sun may be shorn of its beams," said Constantia, with something of her former energy of manner, "but it is still a sun. Cromwell is the Protector of England!" That was the rallying point of Lady Frances' feelings, and she embraced her friend with increased affection. "I love you more than all," said the kind girl, "for your appreciation of my father; I only hope that posterity may do him equal justice. But why, I ask again, dear Constance, have you not permitted me to speak to him about this wedding? You reap sorrow, and not joy, of the contract. Well, well," she continued, perfectly understanding Constantia's mute appeal for silence, "I will say no more, for I ought to be satisfied with the privilege of being thus enabled to disturb the solitude you consider so sweet." "How lessened," exclaimed Constance, "I must appear in the eyes of all good and wise people! How they will jeer at the lofty Mistress Cecil selling herself--for--they know not what!" "Lessened!" repeated Frances; "on the contrary. You certainly do sacrifice yourself to fulfil this contract; but that deserves praise. Besides, Burrell is a man whom many admire." "There, talk not of it, Frances--talk not of it: henceforth, the world and I are two--I mix no more in it, nor with it." "Now, out upon you for a most silly lady!" retorted Lady Frances. "It may be my fate, despite the affection I bear _poor_ Rich (I like the linking of these words), to wed some other man--one who will please my father and benefit the state. Is not the misery of being chained to a thing you loathe and detest sufficient cause for trouble, without emulating bats and owls! No, no; if I must be ironed, I will cover my fetters with flowers--they shall be perfumed, and tricked, and trimmed. I shall see you gay at court, dear Constance. Besides, if you are to be married, you must not twine willow with your bridal roses--that will never do." There was no smile upon Constantia's lips at her friend's kind and continued efforts to remove the weight that pressed upon her heart. "This is the last night that I can dare trust myself to speak of Walter. Frances," she said, after a long pause, "I have no fears for his personal safety, because I know with whom he left this house: but, one thing I would say; and if, my dearest, kindest friend, I have not prated to you of my sorrows--joys, alas! I have not to communicate--it is because I must not. With all the childish feeling of a girl you have a woman's heart, true and susceptible, as ever beat in woman's bosom. I know you have thought me cold and reserved; an iceberg, where nothing else was ice:--true, I am chilled by circumstances, not by nature. I am sure you can remember when my step was as light, and my voice as happy, though not as mirthful, as your own: but the lightness and the mirthfulness have passed:--only, Frances, when the world dyes my name in its own evil colour, I pray you say----" She paused as if in great perplexity. "Say what? Surely all the world can say is, that you did what thousands of devoted girls have done before you--married to fulfil a contract," observed Lady Frances, who well knew that some deadly poison rankled in her heart, and almost overturned her reason. "True, true," repeated Constance--"I had forgotten; for I am, as you may see, bewildered by my misery. But one thing, dear Frances, you can surely do:--take this poor trinket--it perplexed you once--and if ever you should meet the Cavalier who parted lately in such company, give it him back. That simple girl, poor Barbara, found it to-day within the Fairy Ring, and brought it me:--it is the only memento I had of him," she continued, placing it in Lady Frances' hand--"the only one--there, put it away. And now, dear Frances, since you will companion me through this last night of liberty, go, fetch your lute, and sing me all the songs we learned together; or talk in your own sweet way of those we knew, esteemed, or jested at." "When I do sing, or when I talk, you do not listen," replied the youngest of Cromwell's daughters, taking down her lute and striking a few wild chords: "your ears are open but their sense is shut." "Forgive me; but, even if it is so, your music and your voice is a most soothing accompaniment to much bitterness; it is a pretty fable, that of the nightingale resting her bosom on a thorn, while warbling her finest notes." "It proves to me that the nightingale who does so is a most foolish bird," retorted Frances, rallying, "inasmuch as she might select roses, instead of thorns, and they are both soft and fragrant." "And fading," added Constance: "you perceive I heard you." "Your heart, my dear friend," replied Lady Frances, "only echoes one tone, and that is a melodious melancholy. Shall I sing you 'Withers' Shepherd's Resolution,'--my father's rhyming 'Major-general,' who lorded it so sturdily over the county of Surrey? For my own part, I like the spirit of the man, particularly as it comes forth in the third verse." And with subdued sportiveness she sung:-- "Shall a woman's virtues move Me to perish for her love? Or her well deservings knowne, Make me quite forget mine owne? "Be she with that goodness blest Which may merit name of best; If she be not such to me, What care I how good she be? "Great or good, or kind or fair, I will ne'er the more despair; If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve. "If she slight me when I wooe, I can scorne and let her goe, If she be not fit for me, What care I for whom she be?" "Do you not admire it, Constantia?" she said. "Admire what?" "Why, the conceit of the song." "I fear I did not heed it. I was thinking of--of--something else." "Shall I sing it again?" "Not to-night, dearest: and yet you may; methinks it is the last night I shall ever listen to minstrelsy--not but that there is philosophy in music, for it teaches us to forget care; it is to the ear what perfume is to the smell. How exquisite is music! the only earthly joy of which we are assured we shall taste in heaven. Play on." Lady Frances again sung the lay, but with less spirit than before, for she felt it was unheeded by her friend, and she laid the lute silently on the ground when she had finished. "Do you know," said Constance, after a time, "I pity your waiting lady, who was married to Jerry White, as you call him, so unceremoniously." "Pity her!" repeated Lady Frances, with as disdainful a toss of her head, as if she had always formed a part of the aristocracy. "Pity her! methinks the maid was well off to obtain the man who aspired to her mistress." "But she loved him not," observed Constantia, in a sad voice. "Poor Jerry!" laughed Lady Frances, "how could she love him; the Commonwealth jester; wanting only cap, bells, and a hobby-horse, to be fool, _par excellence_, of the British dominions? And yet he is no fool either; more knave than fool, though my father caught him at last." "It was a severe jest," said Constantia. "Why, it was--but verily I believe my father thought there was danger of having two fools at his court, instead of one. It was after this fashion. Jerry presumed a good deal upon the encouragement his Highness had given him--for the Protector loves a jest as well as any, when there is nobody by to repeat it to the grave ones: and his chaplain, Jerry White, chimed in with his humour, and was well-timed in his conceits; and this so pleased my good father, that he suffered him much in private about his person. So he fell, or pretended to fall, desperately in love with my giddy self. It was just at the time, too, when Charles Stuart made his overtures of marriage, that so caught my mother's fancy; and my imagination was marvellously moved by two such strings to my bow--a prince and a preacher--a rogue and a fool:--only think of it, Constantia! However, Jerry grew much too tender, and I began to think seriously I was going too far; so I told my sister Mary, and I am sure she told my father; for, as I was passing through a private anteroom at Whitehall, his reverence was there in ambush, and commenced his usual jargon of love and dove, faithfulness and fidelity, gentleness and gentility, and at last fell upon his knees, while I, half laughing, and half wondering how his rhapsody would end, as end it must--Well, there! fancy Jerry's countenance, clasped hands, and bended knees! and I pulling my hood (I had just returned from a walk) over my face to conceal my merriment, trying to disengage my hand from the creature's claws--when, I really don't know how, but there stood my father before me, with a half smile on his lip, and his usual severity of aspect. "'My chaplain at prayers! you are mighty devout, methinks,' he said, in his coldest voice. Jerry stammered, and stumbled, and entangled his leg in arising with the point of my father's sword; and then my father's choler rose, and he stormed out, 'The meaning, sir, the meaning of this idolatrous mummery? what would ye of my daughter, the Lady Frances Cromwell?' And Jerry, like all men, though he could get into a scrape, had not much tact at getting out; so he looked to me for assistance--and I gave it. 'He is enamoured, please your Highness,' said I, with more wit than grace, 'of Mistress Mabel, my chief lady.' Then, having got the clue, Jerry went on without hesitation: 'And I was praying my Lady Frances that she would interfere, and prevent Mistress Mabel from exercising so much severity towards her faithful servant.' 'What ho!' said his Highness, 'without there!--who waits?' One of the pages entered on the instant. 'Send hither,' he commanded, 'Mistress Mabel, and also that holy man of the Episcopal faith, who now tarrieth within the house.' Jerry looked confounded, and I trembled from head to foot. Mabel, with her silly face, entered almost at the moment. 'And pray, Mistress Mabel,' said my father, 'what have you to say against my chaplain? or why should you not be married forthwith to this chosen vessel, Jeremiah White?' And Mabel, equally astonished, blushed and courtesied, and courtesied and blushed. Then my father, flinging off his hat and mailed gloves, ordered the Episcopalian to perform the ceremony on the instant, adding, he would take the place of father, and I that of bridesmaid. It was like a dream to us all! I never shall forget it--and Jerry never can; it was most wonderfully comic--Only imagine it, Constance!" Lady Frances had been so carried away by her mirthful imagining, that she had little heeded her mournful friend; nor was it till her last sentence--"Only imagine it, Constance!"--that she looked fully upon her. "Hush!" murmured Constantia in a hollow tone; "hush!" she repeated. "Merciful Heaven! what is it?" inquired Frances, terrified at her earnestness. "Hush!" again said Constantia: adding, "Do you not hear?" "Hear? I hear nothing but the tolling of the midnight bell--'Tis twelve o'clock." "It is," said Constantia, in a voice trembling with intense suffering; "it is twelve o'clock---- My wedding-day is indeed come!" CHAPTER VIII. When all the riches of the globe beside Flow'd in to thee with every tide; When all that nature did thy soil deny, The growth was of thy fruitful industry; When all the proud and dreadful sea, And all his tributary streams, A constant tribute paid to thee, Extended Thames. COWLEY. The country through which Robin travelled on his journey to London presented an aspect very different from that which it now assumes. Blackheath was noted for highwaymen; and there was a fair and reasonable chance of being robbed and murdered between Greenwich and London. The Ranger never paused from the time he set out until he found himself under a portion of the long brick-wall that still divides the richly ornamented park from the arid and unfertilised heath. He sat down beneath its shadow, and regaled himself with a morsel of ship-biscuit and a mouthful of brandy; then undid the fastening of his wallet, and selected from amid its contents a neatly and skilfully made hump, which, having previously removed his coat, he dexterously transferred to his shoulder, and then donned a jacket into which the hump fitted with extraordinary exactness. He next drew from his bosom a small hand-glass, and painted and dyed his face with different preparations, so that even Barbara would have failed to recognise her friend and admirer. Having placed a patch over one eye, and stuck a chin-tuft of black hair under his lip, he seemed satisfied with his appearance, replaced the glass and sundry other things in his sack, then, with his usual agility, mounted one of the overhanging trees, and concealed it amid the branches. As he resumed his journey, he might have been taken for a gipsy minstrel, for suspended round his neck was a small cracked gittern, retaining only two strings. This, as if in mockery of his assumed misfortune, he had rested on the hump, while the riband, which was of bright scarlet, encircled, like a necklace, his swarthy neck, that was partially uncovered. In his steeple-crowned hat was stuck a peacock's feather; and any passenger would have been puzzled to ascertain whether the motley deformed being was a wit or a fool. "Now"--thus ran his thoughts--"Now do I defy any of the serving-men at Whitehall to recognise their play-fellow, Sir Willmott Burrell's valet, in the gipsy-looking rascal into which I have, of myself, manufactured myself! Verily, Robin, thou art a most ingenious fellow! Apt at contrivances--even nature is thy debtor, for thou hast increased her deformity! I could gain no tidings of the Cavalier in my own proper person--of that I am certain; because the people there will either not know, or be so effectually cautioned--there would be no use in fishing in such water. Ah! your heart's blood Puritans will never defile themselves by questioning such as me. 'Slife, I think Old Noll himself could hardly make me out! I wonder what would Barbara say now, if she were to behold me in this disguise! I should not like her to see me, and that's the truth; for no man likes to look worse than he is to his mistress, and, the devil knows, I can ill spare my beauty! My _beauty_!" he thought again, and then chuckled one of his vile laughs, the most decided indicators of a scornful and bitter temper. Robin did not pursue the high London road, but struck across the Park; and his love of fine scenery induced him to pause at the top of Greenwich Hill, and look around on the richness and beauty of the prospect. Flowing to the right, the broad and glorious Thames turned its liquid mirror to the skies, and reflected every passing cloud upon its translucent bosom. But our noble river had more than clouds to shadow it;--the treasures of the universe floated for us upon its wave--the spoils of conquered and humbled nations left their track along its shores; Spain, France, and either India--the whole world, rendered us homage and paid us tribute, and proud was our own Father Thames to bear that homage and that tribute to his favoured city. Well might the great cupola of St. Paul erect its heavy but majestic head, and peer forth through the first beams of day upon the rich and blessed river! Robin felt his heart swell within his bosom when he looked down upon the waters and the land of which every Englishman is so justly proud. "It is my own country!" was his emphatic ejaculation, as he gazed on this picture of English wealth and English cultivation. The little village of Greenwich, straggling at the foot of the hill, approaching closely to the palace, and then wandering along the great Dover and London road, formed a more pleasant object than it does now that it has been magnified into a great and populous town. Many wooden cottages nested under the Park walls, and sent their smoke curling through the foliage of the fine trees that formed a bold, rich back-ground. The palace, extending its squares and courts along the river's brink, gave an air of dignity to the whole scene; while the tinkling music of the sheep-bells, echoing from the heath, lent to it a soft and harmonising effect. On the river, in the extreme distance, an English vessel was towing up some of the Spanish prizes which the gallant Blake had forwarded to their future home: they trailed the water heavily and gloomily, like captives as they were; and their dismantled and battered aspect afforded ample subject for discourse to a group of old sailors, who, though not yet possessed of their Palace-Hospital, found many convenient dwellings in the village, and added not a little to the picturesque appearance of the hill, as, congregated in a small party, they handed a rude spy-glass from one to another, "And told how ships were won." "Ah!" said one veteran, "I heard old Blake myself say, soon after his Highness was made the same as a king, and many lubberly scoundrels put up their backs at it--'Boys,' says he, and, my eyes! how nobly he does stand upon the deck o' his own ship, the Triumph!--'Boys,' says he, 'it isn't for us to mind state affairs, but keep foreigners from fooling us.' D--n it, _that_'s what I call English." "So it is," continued another, whose weather-beaten body was supported on a pair of wooden legs, and who had just joined the little party of which Robin made one; "so it is, Jack, and what _I_ call English, worth ten books full of other lingo; wasn't I with him in Fifty-three, when, with only twelve vessels, he beat Van Tromp, who had seventy ships of the line and three hundred merchantmen under convoy? and hadn't the Triumph seven hundred shot in her hull? Well, though it was there I lost my precious limbs, I don't grudge them, not I: it's as well to go to the fish as to the worms, and any how we have the king's pension." "Jemmy," said a waggish-looking sailor, with only one eye and half an arm, twirling some tobacco in his mouth at the same time--"Jemmy, it's rum talking about royalty--you forget----" "It's no such thing as rum talking, Terry; I don't mind who governs England--she's England still. It warms my blood, too, to think of the respect paid the Union Jack by all nations. When our admiral, God bless him! was in the road of Cadiz, a Dutch fellow didn't dare to hoist his flag; so, ye see, the Dutch knows what's what, though both men and ships are heavy sailors." "Yes," chimed in the first speaker, "that was the time when his health was drunk with a salute of five guns by one of the French commanders: and it's noble, so it is, to see the order he keeps those Algerines in. Why, if in searching the Sallee rovers they found an English prisoner aboard, they sent him off to Blake as civil as possible, hoping to get favour. But that didn't hinder him from peppering both the Dey of Algiers, and the infidel rascal at Tunis." "I hear that the burning of the Spanish ships in the Road of Santa Cruz was the most wonderful thing ever done," observed he of the wooden legs; "and it's desperate bad news that he's taken on for sickness; for sure am I, that the Protector will never have so faithful a friend, or so good a servant. And so I told the sergeant, or whatever you choose to call him, of the Ironsides, who stopped at the Oliver's Head, down below yesterday, to bait horses, or some such thing:--says I, 'If Blake goes, let your master look to himself.'--But I hate all soldiers--lubberly, sulky, black-looking fellows--no spirit in them, particularly now, when it's the fashion not to drink, or swear, or do any thing for divarsion--ugh!" And the old man's ire against the "land-lubbers" grew so hot, that he turned away, and stumped stoutly down the hill. Robin was not tardy in following, nor long in getting into conversation, though the remembrance of the "land lubbers" still rankled in the old man's mind. "Here's a most excellent glass," said Robin, pulling a pocket-glass from his vest, and showing it to the sailor; "you can count the very shot-holes in the vessel they are towing up." The sailor took it with a sneer of incredulity and a glance of distrust at the speaker, but neither were of long duration. "Yes," said he, after gazing through it attentively for some minutes; "yes, that is something like what I call a glass. 'Gad, it makes me young again to see those marks--every bullet had its billet, I warrant me. The eye you have left, my friend, does not look, though, as if it wanted such a helper." "Nor does it," said Robin; "and, as a token of the great honour which I bear to the wooden walls of Old England, you are welcome to keep it." "Keep your glass, sir!" repeated the wooden-legged hero; "no; you don't look like one who could afford to make such a present. But I'll buy it, I'll buy it, if you'll let me--that I will." "I'd rather you would take it," replied Robin with much courtesy, and in a well-feigned foreign accent; "for though I am a poor wanderer, one of another country, trying to pick up a little by my skill in music, and from those charitable Christians who pity my deformity, yet I love the very look of a sailor so much, that I would give even my gittern to a true son of the sea." "Say you so, my boy?" shouted the old tar, "then d--n me now if I do take it, nor I'll not buy it either; but I'll swop for it any thing I have, and then, d'ye see, we'll have something to remember each other all our days." "The sailors of England," pursued the crafty Robin, "are never seen but to be remembered--feared on sea and loved on land." "You're the best-hearted foreigner I ever fell in with," said the old man; "so let us make full sail for the Oliver's Head, and settle the matter there; perhaps you'll give us a taste of your calling," touching as he spoke the cracked gittern with the point of his stick. "My eyes! how Ned Purcell will stare at this glass! His own! why his own an't a fly-blow to it." "The Oliver's Head" was a gay hostelry by the road-side, with what was called in those days a portraiture of the Protector swinging from a post which stood on the slip of turf that skirted the house. It was kept by a bluff landlord and a young and pretty landlady, young enough to be her husband's daughter, and discreet enough to be an old man's wife with credit and respectability. There were benches all round the house, one side of which looked towards the river, and the other out upon the heath, and up the hill; and a pleasant view it was either way; but the sailor chose the water-prospect, and established himself and Robin on a small separate bench that was overshadowed by a green and spreading cherry-tree. Having settled the exchange, which ended in Robin's receiving a small Spanish dagger in exchange for his glass, the seaman insisting on his taking a glass of another sort; to which Robin was by no means averse, as he had not yet been able to obtain the desired information relative to the Ironsides. While they sat under the cherry-tree, however, the wished-for opportunity occurred. "What a pity it is," observed Robin, "that they don't cut canals through the country, and do all the business by water instead of land. They do it, you know, in Venice." "There'd be sense and reason in that," replied the sailor in great glee. "I never could see much use in the land at any time." "And then we should have all sailors and no soldiers," continued Robin. "Ah!" said the sailor, "I doubt if the Protector could ever be brought to see the good of that; he's mortally fond of the army." "You had some of his own Ironsides here yesterday, you said?" "Ay, they were after something or other, I'll answer for that; for though they never go the same road twice, if they can by any means help it, yet they have been about the place, and round the neighbourhood, very much lately. I did hear that Noll was after some smuggling, or devilrie, down a little beyond Gravesend. He never can let a thing alone when once he gets scent of it." "Was there any one, any prisoner, or chap of that sort, with them last night, or yesterday?" Robin ventured to ask. "No, not that I saw or noticed," said the sailor. "Yes, there was," replied the landlady, who had been leaning over the hatch-door, listening to their conversation, and scrutinising the person of her new guest. "There was a young gentleman, not like a prisoner either, only I fancied under some restraint; and I brought him a better stoup of wine than I brought the rest. Poor gentleman! he seemed downhearted, or like one crossed in love." "Crossed in a fiddlestick!" said the bluff old landlord: "your woman's head is ever running on love." "Then it does not run on you, I am sure," retorted Robin. "Your stick would get no music out of any fiddle." "I could make as good music out of a currycomb, as you out of that cracked thing that sits perched on your hump--like a monkey on the back of a dromedary." "Get your currycomb, and we'll make a wager of it," replied Robin, unslinging his gittern, while some of the old sailors crowded round the challenger, and voted it a fair challenge. "Ugh!" grunted forth the bluff landlord, turning away. "When I play, it shall be against a Christian Englishman, and none of your foreign jigmaries." "Play, play, nevertheless," said the young landlady, handing Robin at the same time a measure of fine ale; then stooping as if to untie the knot that fastened the gittern, she whispered in his ear. "And there was one who, with a few others, left the party, rode on, and took no refreshment. I knew him well; but if the youth be a friend of yours, depend upon't he's kindly thought of, for the leader put a broad-piece into my hand as he passed, and told me to see that the Cavalier was properly attended to." "Took they the London road?" inquired Robin. "Ay; though 'tis hard to say how long such as they continue on any path." "What are you doing, Maud?" inquired the rough landlord, who had just returned, and was lounging against the door-post. "There! I have broken the string that went round his neck," she said aloud, without heeding the question. "I must get you another." When she returned with a flaming red riband, that glared in cruel mockery at the shabby gittern, she contrived to add, "I have a brother in the Ironsides, and he said he thought they were bound for Hampton Court; but it might have been only his fancy." It was a quaint but pretty sight under that green Kentish cherry-tree, and upon the bank of that beautiful river, to see the weather-cock Robin in his motley dress, the long peacock's feather ever and anon lifted from his hat by the fresh breeze that came from the water, while he sung with sweet and animated voice a song that suited well the tastes and feelings of his hearers. "Oh, the sailor's home is the boundless sea, The sea, the sea, the sea! He loves it best when waves are high, And a fierce nor'-wester shakes the sky. Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea-- Oh, the sailor's home is the home for me! "Away we go, o'er our own blue sea, The sea, the sea, the sea! We are ocean lords, for the winds obey, And the raging billows own our sway. Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea!-- Let my home be the sailor's home--the sea! "A proud man well may our captain be, The sea, the sea, the sea! But our noble ship a bride shall be To five hundred men as good as he. Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea-- 'Tis a fitting mate for the brave and free! "Give the land to slaves, but give us the sea-- The sea, the sea, the sea! Our hopes, our joys, our bed, and our grave, Are above or below the salt-sea wave. Oh, the sea, the sea, the sea-- Hurrah for the sailor's home--the sea!" Then leaning over the hatch-door, her rosy cheek half-resting on the rough shoulder of her rough husband, was the pretty Mistress Maud, the personification of rustic English beauty; then the picturesque grouping of the old and worn, but still gallant and manly sailors--our friend of the wooden legs a little in the fore-ground, supported by the quizzical seaman, and a tall stiff bony-looking "Black Sal" of a woman on the other, whose complexion was contrasted by a snow-white cap, somewhat pointed at the top, which hardly concealed her grizzled hair. She was both exhibiting and admiring in dumb show the telescope so lately in the possession of our friend Robin; while Ned Purcell, a little dumpy, grey-headed mariner, who had heretofore been considered the owner of the best glass in Greenwich, was advancing, glass in hand, to decide which was really the best without farther parley. As Robin was obliged to sing his song twice, we may be excused for having given it once, though certainly it received but little advantage from the miserable accompaniment of the wretched instrument that had just been so gaily adorned by the hands of Mistress Maud. When the song was fairly finished, Robin arose to depart, for he had been long anxious to proceed on his way, though the scene we have described, and the conversation we have recorded, had passed within the compass of an hour. They all pressed him to remain. Even the bluff landlord tempted him with the offer of a pint of Canary, an offer he would not himself under any circumstances have declined. Robin, however, bade them a courteous farewell; but he had hardly reached the outskirts of the village, when he heard a light step, and felt a light hand press upon his shoulder. He turned round, and the blithe smile of mine hostess of the Oliver's Head beamed upon his painted face. "Robin Hays!" she said, "I would advise you never to sing when you go mumming; you did well enough till then; but, though the nightingale hath many notes, the voice is aye the same. The gentleman you were speering after, dropped this while making some change in his garments; and it looks so like a love-token, that I thought, as you were after him, you would give it him, poor youth! and my benison with it." "Yes," replied the Ranger, taking from her the very lock of hair which the Cavalier had severed, with his own hand, from among the tresses of Constantia. "I'll give it him when I can find him; yet, had you not better wrap it up in something? It pains the heart to see such as this exposed to the air, much less the eyes of any body in the world." Maud wrapped it in a piece of paper, and Robin placed it carefully in a small pocket-book. "The devil's as bright in your eyes still, Maud, as it was when you won poor Jack Roupall's heart, and then jilted him for a rich husband. I did not think any one would have found me out." "If I did sell myself," replied the landlady, "I have had my reward"--the colour faded from her cheek as she spoke--"as all will have who go the same gait. But ye ken, Bobby, it was not for my ain sake, but that my poor mother might have a home in her auld age--and so she had, and sure that ought to make me content." The tears gathered in her eyes, and the Ranger loudly reproached himself for unkindness, and assured her he meant no harm. "I am sure o' that; but when any one evens Jack to me, it brings back the thought of my ain North to my heart, and its words to my tongue, which is no good now, as it becomes me to forget both." "God bless you, Maud!" said Robin, shaking her affectionately by the hand: "God bless you! and if any ask after the Ironsides, see you say nothing of the young gentleman, who is as dear to me as my heart's blood; and do not tell to any, even of our own set, that I passed this way; for it's hard to tell who's who, or what's what, these times." "So it is," replied the dame, smiling through tears; "and now God be wi' ye, Robin!" And presently he heard her voice carolling a North country ballad, as she returned to her own house. "Now is her heart in her own country," muttered the Ranger, "though her voice is here; and those who did not know her little story would think her as cheerful as the length of a summer's day; and so she ought to be, for she performed her duty; and duty, after all, when well performed, seems a perpetual and most cheerful recompense for care and toil, and, it may be, trouble of mind and pain of heart." Robin having obtained the clue to the secret of which he was in search, wended his way towards the metropolis. The steeples of a hundred churches were soon in sight. CHAPTER IX. But yonder comes my faithful friend, That like assaults hath often tried; On his advice I will depend Whe'er I shall win or be denied; And, look, what counsel he shall give, That will I do, whe'er die or live HENRY WILLOBY. Robin, when he arrived in London, loitered away an hour around Whitehall and the Park, before he proceeded farther, and easily ascertained that the Protector was then at Hampton Court; as to who went with him, how long he would remain, or when he would return, he could receive no intelligence; for the best of all possible reasons--the movements of his Highness were secrets even from his own family. There was much talk, however, and considerable speculation among all classes of people, as to whether he would yield to the eager entreaties of a certain party in the parliament, who were urgently pressing forward a motion, the object of which was, that Cromwell should exchange the title he had heretofore borne, and adopt the more time-honoured, but, alas! more obnoxious one, of King. Some of the more rigid sects were busily discoursing in groups, respecting Walton's Polyglott Bible, and the fitness or unfitness of the committee that had been sitting at Whitelock's house at Chelsea, to consider properly the translations and impressions of the Holy Scriptures. Robin received but surly treatment at the palace-gates, for minstrelsy was not the fashion; and he almost began to think the disguise he had selected was an injudicious one. He hastened on to the city, along the line of street now called the Strand, but which was then only partially skirted by houses, and delivered Dalton's invoices to the merchant beyond St. Paul's, who had need of the Genoa velvets; then proceeded to the dealer in jewels, by whom the pearls had been commanded. Here it appeared no easy matter to gain admission; but a few words mysteriously pronounced to a grave-looking person, whose occupation was half porter, half clerk, removed all obstacles, and he found himself in a dark, noisome room, at the back of one of the houses in Fenchurch Street--at that time much inhabited by foreign merchants, who were generally dealers in contraband goods, as well as in the more legitimate articles of commerce. As soon as the wayfarer entered, he disburdened himself of his hump, and from between its folds produced strings of the finest pearls and heaped them on the table. The dealer put on his glasses, and examined them separately, with great care, but much rapidity; while Robin, like a good and faithful steward, kept his eyes steadily fixed upon the jewels, never losing sight of them for a single moment, until his attention was arrested by a person entering and addressing the merchant. Robin immediately recognised the stranger as the old Jew, Manasseh Ben Israel, whom he had seen at Sir Willmott Burrell's. "Excuse me, I pray you, for a few moments, good Rabbi," observed the merchant, who was now occupied in entering the number, size, and quality of the pearls in a large book. "I cannot wait, friend," was the Jew's quick reply, "for I am going a journey, and the night draws on darkly." "Whither, sir, I pray you?" "Even to Hampton House," replied Ben Israel, "to commune with his Highness, whom the God of Abraham protect!--and I am sorely perplexed, for my own serving-man is ill, and I know not whom to take, seeing I am feeble and require care, unless you can lend me the man Townsend: Samuel assures me he is a person of trust." "Townsend is, unhappily, gone on secret business to a long distance, set off not an hour since: would that I had known it before!" "There is no lack of servants," continued the Rabbi, "but there is great lack of faithfulness. I know not what to do, for I must see his Highness to-night." "If it so please you," said little Robin, eagerly stepping forward, "I will go with you; I am sure this gentleman can answer for my fidelity, and I will answer for my own fitness." The Rabbi and the merchant looked at each other, and then the latter observed,-- "I can well answer for this young man's trust-worthiness, seeing he has been engaged to bring me goods such as these, from secret sources, the nature of which you understand, excellent Ben Israel. But what know you of the service befitting a gentleman's servant?" "I have been in that capacity, too," replied little Robin Hays. "With whom?" inquired Manasseh. "With one I care not much to name, sirs, for he does me no credit," was Robin's answer; "with Sir Willmott Burrell." The old man shuddered, and said in an agitated voice--"Then, indeed, you will not do for me on this occasion." "Under favour," persisted Robin, "I know not the occasion, and therefore cannot judge, if I may speak so boldly; but I have seen you before, sir, and can only say, that knowing all his manoeuvres well, I am just the person to be trusted by his enemy." "Young man," said the Jew, severely, "I am no man's enemy; I leave such enmity as you speak of to my Christian brethren. I ask only justice from my fellow mortals, and mercy from my God." "But, sir, I thought you had sustained some wrong at the hands of Sir Willmott Burrell, from your visit at such an hour, and your manner on that night." "Wrong! ay, such wrong as turns a father's hair grey, his veins dry, and scorches up his brain." The old man paused, for his feelings had overpowered him. "I know none more faithful than Robin Hays," urged the pearl-merchant; "and now that I call to remembrance, the time he served that same knight, (who, I hear, is going to repair his fortunes by a wealthy marriage,) I think he did well as a lackey; though, to own the truth, I should fancy him more in his place, and to his liking, as the servitor to a bold Buccaneer." "Buccaneer!" repeated Ben Israel--"What Buccaneer?" "Oh!" said the merchant, smiling, "Hugh Dalton--the fairest man in the free trade." "Hugh Dalton!" repeated the Jew, slowly: then adding, after a lengthened pause, "Art cunning in disguises?" "As cunning as my body will permit," replied Robin. "You have seen my faithful Samuel?" "I have, sir." "Then array thyself on the instant as much after his dress and fashion as is possible." Robin hastily and right cheerfully obeyed this command; and, in less than half an hour, was rolling along the road to Hampton Court, in the guise of a serving Jew. CHAPTER X. Vengeance will sit above our faults; but till She there do sit, We see her not, nor them. DR. DONNE. It is hardly necessary to direct the reader's attention to the quickness and ingenuity at all times displayed by Robin Hays, or the facility with which he adapted himself to any circumstance or situation that was likely to favour or further his designs. The moment the Rabbi had stated his intention of visiting Hampton Court, he perceived that, as a Jewish servant, he might have abundant opportunities of ascertaining the precise condition of the Cavalier: fortunately for his purpose, the mention of Hugh Dalton's name at once decided Ben Israel in granting his request. The Jew had received intimation that the noted and well-known commander of the Fire-fly had been lying off St. Vallery, and making many inquiries relative to his daughter, who had at length been traced on board his cruiser by her continental friends. "Doubtless," thought the Rabbi, "I may be enabled to draw forth, or bribe forth, from this his associate, whatever knowledge he may possess of the views and objects which they contemplate as regards my most wretched daughter." In pursuance of this plan he commenced a series of examinations as they journeyed towards Hampton Court; which Robin, with all his dexterity, would have found it difficult to parry, if he had had any intention or desire so to do. Suddenly it occurred to the Ranger that the pretended dumb boy was no other than Ben Israel's daughter, and he frankly mentioned his suspicions. The old man at first shrank from the supposition with extreme horror. "It was impossible," he said, "that his child should so far forget her birth and station, as to degrade herself by assuming male attire;" but Robin reminded him that when a woman loves, as she must have done, and has once sacrificed her duty, perhaps her honour, all obstacles become as nought. The Jew groaned heavily, and remained long silent; she was his only, and his beloved one; and, though the Jewish laws were strict, even unto death, against any who wedded with strangers, yet he loved her despite her disobedience, and the more he thought, the more resolved he became to punish the betrayer of her innocence and faith. Robin was also greatly distressed; the fear of some evil occurring to Barbara took forcible possession of his mind. Why should this girl, if indeed Jeromio's charge was actually a girl, why should she menace Barbara? What had Barbara to do with the foul transaction? Could it be possible, that, from her being tricked out with so much finery, the stranger mistook the maid for the mistress; and with impotent rage, was warning or threatening her, in an unknown tongue, against a marriage with Burrell! He could not comprehend the matter; and the more he was at fault, the more anxious he became. He, in his own mind, reproached even the Buccaneer for imparting to him only half measures. "Had I known," thought Robin, "the true particulars about Sir Willmott's affairs, of which I am convinced, from many circumstances, Dalton was in full possession, I could have assisted in all things, and prevented results that may hereafter happen." There was another idea that had lately mingled much with the Ranger's harassed feelings--Constantia's intended marriage. Robin was satisfied that a strong regard, if not a deeply-rooted affection, existed between Walter De Guerre and Barbara's kind mistress; and he thought that Hugh Dalton's manifesting so little interest on the subject was not at all in keeping with his usually chivalrous feelings towards woman-kind, or his professed esteem and affection for his young friend. He knew that the Buccaneer's heart was set upon attaining a free pardon; and he also knew that he had some powerful claim upon the interest of Sir Robert Cecil; he knew, moreover, Dalton's principal motive for bringing over the Cavalier; but with all his sagacity, he could not discover why he did not, at once and for ever, set all things right, by exhibiting Sir Willmott Burrell in his true colours. Robin had repeatedly urged the Buccaneer on this subject, but his constant reply was,-- "I have no business with other people's children; I must look to my own. If they have been kind to Barbara, they have had good reason for it. It will be a fine punishment, hereafter, to Sir Willmott; one that may come, or may not come, as he behaves; but it will be a punishment in reserve, should he, in the end, discover that Mistress Cecil may be no heiress." In fact, the only time that the Buccaneer felt any strong inclination to prevent the sacrifice Constantia was about to make, was when he found that she knew her father's crime, but was willing to give herself to misery as the price of secrecy; then, indeed, had his own pardon been secured, he would have stated to the Protector's face the deep villany of the Master of Burrell. Until his return on board the Fire-fly, and his suppression of the mutiny excited by Sir Willmott and the treachery of Jeromio, he had no idea that Burrell, base as he knew him to be, would have aimed against his life. The Buccaneer was a brave, bold, intrepid, careless man; more skilled in the tricks of war than in tracing the secret workings of the human mind, or in watching the shades and modifications of the human character. His very love for his daughter had more of the protecting and proud care of the eagle about it, than the fostering gentleness with which the tender parent guards its young; he was proud of her, and he was resolved to use every possible means to make her proud of him. He had boasted to Sir Robert Cecil that it was his suspicions made him commit "_forged_ documents to the flames," at the time when the baronet imagined that all proofs of his crimes had been destroyed; but, in truth, Dalton had mislaid the letters, and, eager to end all arrangements then pending, he burned some papers, which he had hastily framed for the purpose, to satisfy Sir Robert Cecil. When in after years it occurred to him that, if he obtained those papers he could wind Sir Robert to his purpose, he searched every corner of the Gull's Nest Crag until they were discovered; so that, in fact, he owed their possession to chance, and not to skilfulness. Even the boy Springall had seen through the Italian's character; but Dalton had been so accustomed to find his bravery overwhelmingly successful, and consequently to trust to it almost implicitly, that his fine intellect was suffered to lie dormant, where it would have often saved him from much that he endured. If he had thought deeply, he would have seen the impropriety of trusting the Fire-fly at any time to Jeromio's command, because, as he had found him guilty of so many acts of treachery towards others, he should have known, that it only needed sufficient bribery, or inducement of any other kind, to turn that treachery upon himself. His last interview with Sir Robert Cecil had made him aware that the baronet had really lost the greater part of the influence he once maintained at Whitehall; and since he had been so much off and on the English coast, he had heard enough to convince him that Cromwell granted few favours to those who had not much usefulness to bestow in return. Sir Robert was broken in intellect and constitution: he had no son to whom the Protector could look for support in case of broil or disturbance, and the Buccaneer was ignorant of the strong and friendly ties that had united the families for so long a series of years. He had fancied that fear would compel Sir Willmott Burrell to press his suit; but the atrocious attempt upon his life assured him that there was nothing to expect from him but the blackest villany. When, therefore, he despatched, with all the ferocity of a true Buccaneer, the head of Jeromio as a wedding-present to Sir Willmott, he at the same time transmitted to the Protector, by a trusty messenger, the Master of Burrell's own directions touching the destruction of the Jewish Zillah, and stated that if his Highness would grant him a free pardon, which he had certain weighty reasons for desiring, he believed it was in his power to produce the Rabbi's daughter. His communication concluded by entreating that his Highness would prevent the marriage of the Master of Burrell, at all events until the following week. His envoy had particular orders neither to eat, drink, nor sleep, until he had found means of placing the packet in the hands of the Protector. Dalton having so far eased his mind, bitterly cursed his folly that he had not in the first instance, instead of proceeding to St. Vallery in search of the Jewess, informed Ben Israel of the transaction, who would at once have obtained his pardon, as the price of his daughter's restoration and Burrell's punishment. It will be easily conceived that on the night which Burrell expected to be the last of the Buccaneer's existence he neither slumbered nor slept. The earliest break of morning found him on the cliffs at no great distance from the Gull's Nest Crag, waiting for the signal that had been agreed upon between Jeromio and himself, as announcing the success of their plan. There was no speck upon the blue waves between him and the distant coast of Essex, which, from the point on which he stood, looked like a dark line upon the waters; neither was there, more ocean-ward, a single vessel to be seen. He remained upon the cliff for a considerable time. As the dawn brightened into day, the little skiffs of the fishermen residing on the Isle of Shepey put off, sometimes in company, sometimes singly, from their several anchorings. Then a sail divided the horizon, then another, and another; but still no signal told him that treachery had prospered. At length the sun had fully risen. He then resolved upon hastening to the Gull's Nest, with the faint hope that some message from Jeromio might have been forwarded thither. Time was to him, upon that eventful morning, of far higher value than gold; yet above an hour had been spent in fruitless efforts to learn the result of an attempt on which he knew that much of his future fate depended. He had not proceeded far upon his course, when he was literally seized upon by the Reverend Jonas Fleetword, who ever appeared to the troubled and plotting Sir Willmott in the character of an evil genius. "I have sought thee as a friend," observed the simple-minded man,--"as a petitioner, I had almost said, so earnest was the lady about it--from the Lady Frances Cromwell, to beg that the bridal, which even now, according to thy directions, he of the Episcopalian faith was preparing to solemnise, might be delayed until evening, in consequence of Mistress Cecil being somewhat ill at ease, either in body or in mind, or, it may be the Lord's will, in both;--very ill of a surety she is." "This is trifling," exclaimed Burrell in anger. "She asked delay, and I granted till this morning. I can brook no such vain excuse." "Of a verity," quoth Fleetword, "thy reply is, as I deem it, given in a most unchristian spirit. Thy bride elect is ill; and instead of a shower (which is emblematic of tears) cometh a storm, which (in poetic language) signifieth anger!" "Forgive me, sir," replied Burrell, who perceived that the delay, under such circumstances, however dangerous, must be granted; "but it is natural for a bridegroom to feel disappointed when there arises any postponement to his long looked-for happiness, particularly when there be reasons strong as mine against it." Fleetword little comprehended the meaning of this last sentence; but drawing forth a pocket Bible, which on more than one occasion had given much trouble to Sir Willmott Burrell, he told him he had considered that admirable portion of the Scripture touching the duty of husband and wife, so well set forth therein, and that he had composed a discourse thereon, which he meant to deliver unto them after the holy ceremony, but that he would now expound much upon the subject, as they journeyed homeward. "I am not going direct to Cecil Place," was Burrell's excuse; "I am looking after one Robin Hays, who dwells somewhere near, or at, a place called the Gull's Nest Crag: he was once my servant, and I desire to see him." "It is even one with me," replied Fleetword; "I know the lad Robin, too; so I will go with thee, and read the while. I covet a holy exercise; and for it every time, yea, and every place, is fitting." Most cordially did Burrell wish the good preacher--no matter where; but his wishes availed nought, for he remained close to his side, holding forth, without intermission, in the same monotonous tone, that sounded like the ding-dong, ding-dong of a curfew-bell to the knight's bewildered ear. Yet this was not the only source of embarrassment Sir Willmott was that morning doomed to encounter. We have elsewhere had occasion to mention an old tower that supported Gull's Nest, in which Barbara Iverk found shelter the evening she did her lady's errand to the Crag: as Burrell and his companion turned the corner by this tower, Zillah Ben Israel, still habited as a boy, but wearing a tunic of cloth that reached below her knee, stood before him! Had a spectre sprung from the earth, Sir Willmott could not have regarded it with greater astonishment or dismay. He would have passed, but she still stood in his path, her head uncovered, and her black luxuriant hair braided around it, displaying to full advantage her strikingly beautiful but strongly marked Jewish features: her eyes, black and penetrating, discovered little of gentle or feminine expression, but sparkled and fired restlessly in their sockets: her lips curled and quivered as she sought words, for some time in vain, in which to address the false, base knight. Fleetword was the first to speak. "In the name of the Lord, I charge thee, avoid our path, young maniac! for, of a truth, there is little sobriety, little steadiness, in thy look, which savoureth neither of peace nor contentment. What wouldst thou with my friend?--This is his bridal-day, and he has no leisure for such as thee." "The devil take thee with him, thou everlasting pestilence!" exclaimed Burrell to the preacher, fiercely, forgetting all moderation in the excess of his passion; for at the word "bridal" a change as awful as can be imagined to shadow the face of woman rested on the countenance of Zillah. "Avoid me, both of ye!" he continued; "and you, young sir, who so eagerly rush upon your own destruction, avoid me especially: the time for trifling is past!" During this burst of rage, the Jewess kept her eyes steadily fixed upon Burrell, and held her hand within the bosom of her vest. When he paused, she addressed him at first in broken English, and then finding that she could not proceed with the eagerness and fluency her case required, she spoke in French. She first appealed to her seducer's honour; referred to his marriage with her; called to mind his protestations of affection, and used all the entreaties which a woman's heart so naturally suggests, to arouse his better feelings on her behalf. All was in vain; for Burrell parried it all, managing to recover his self-possession while she exhausted herself with words. She then vowed that, if he failed to render her justice, she would, as she had threatened at a former time, throw herself, and the proofs she possessed of his villany, at the Protector's feet, and be his ruin. Sir Willmott then sought to temporise, assured her that it was necessity obliged him to forsake her; and would have persuaded her to meet him or go with him into the house, where, he assured her, he could perhaps arrange--perhaps---- "No," she replied, in the less strong, but more poetic language of France, "I will go under no roof with you, I will exchange no token, no pledge with you. I believe you would follow me to the death; and if you fail to do me justice, I will pursue you to the same, and not you alone. No woman but myself shall ever rest upon your bosom. I swear by the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, that I will have vengeance, though my nation should spill out my blood as a sacrifice before the Lord for my iniquities, the next hour!" She shook back her head as she pronounced the vow, and her hair, loosened from its confinement, cloaked her slight figure with a robe of darkness. "Acknowledge your marriage with me before this holy man," she continued: "although he is a Christian, I have heard that he is honest--and I will leave you for a time." "Peace, Zillah!" interrupted Burrell; "there was no marriage. It is a fable of your own invention--you have no proof." "Have I not?" she replied, and, with woman's luckless imprudence, she drew forth a small packet and held it for an instant towards him. That instant was enough: he snatched the documents from her hand, and held them before her with the exultation of a demon. His triumph, however, was but short-lived, for Fleetword, who comprehended what had passed, was sufficiently alive to its importance to seize the papers from the Master of Burrell before he had the least idea that the preacher would have dared such an act. Sir Willmott stood amazed at his presumption: but instantly Fleetword drew forth the basket-hilted sword we have before noticed, and with more real intellect, and excellent feeling, than a cavalier would have believed he possessed, exclaimed,-- "Sir Willmott Burrell! When Solomon sat in judgment in Israel, he despised not the cause even of the worst. It hath been given me to understand the tongues of many lands--not by the intervention of the Holy Spirit, but by the industry and labour of my poor brain, aided, as all just and fitting things are, by the blessing of the Lord! If what this person says is true, it would be most unseemly for you to become the husband of Mistress Constantia Cecil; if it is not true, why the person must fall by its (for of a truth I cannot determine the sex)--its own falsehood! But keep off, Master of Burrell! Jonas Fleetword can fight for the truth by strength of hand as well as of voice; the documents shall be heard of at the seat of judgment in our New Jerusalem." Sir Willmott, thus run down on all sides, had now recourse to stratagem. After a brief pause, during which both Zillah and the preacher, as if having come to the same determination, kept silence, he said,-- "Well; perhaps it is best. Will you, Zillah, go with me to Cecil Place?" "No!" was her reply. "I will meet you there; but I frankly tell you, I will not trust myself in your company under any roof, unless it be with many persons." "Then come there at seven o' the clock this evening--and I swear----" "I have no faith in your oaths--but I will trust to this man; and if he assures me that the accursed marriage shall not take place until I hold commune with the woman you would wed--safe, and undisturbed commune--I will leave you until night." "Then I assure you of it," replied Fleetword; "and let this convince you of my truth, that I love the sweet lady, Constance Cecil, too well, to see her shadowed even by such dishonour as your words treat of.--Sir Willmott, Sir Willmott! you have shown the cloven foot!" "Look out on the waters, Sir Willmott Burrell," shouted the Jewess, in her wild voice: "look out on the waters, and see the sail and the signal of the brave Buccaneer!" Burrell looked anxiously, and earnestly; but he could perceive nothing of which she spoke. When he turned towards the spot where Zillah had stood--she was gone! "All this is of the evil one," said Fleetword, after peering among the old walls, and approaching his nose so closely to the larger stones, that it might be imagined he was smelling, not looking at them.--"Whither has the creature escaped?" "Verily, I know not," was Burrell's reply. "Best come with me into the Gull's Nest; I would speak with Robin." The unsuspicious preacher did as he was desired. Sir Willmott inquired for the Ranger. His mother said, truly, "He was gone a journey." "For Hugh Dalton?" "He had joined his ship." He then managed privately to ask for the secret key of a place called "the Cage," where contraband goods, not wanted for ready sale, were generally deposited. It had no communication with any of the private chambers, except by a narrow passage, which, leading to no other place, was seldom traversed. Into this cage he managed to get Fleetword, saying, "It was one of the ways out;" and while the preacher was looking round with much curiosity, he turned the key, placed it safely in his vest, and, without saying a word to Mother Hays, who, at such an early hour was just beginning to be very busy, left the Gull's Nest with much self-congratulation. "Stay safely there but till another morning, poor meddling fool!" he murmured; "and then, for your sweet Constantia's sake, you'll keep my secret, and resign these cursed papers." It is not to be imagined that Sir Willmott Burrell would, upon any account, have suffered Zillah to make her appearance at Cecil Place. His existence seemed now to hang upon her destruction; but instruments were wanting: Roupall had been sent out of the way by Hugh Dalton, and tidings were in vain expected of or from Jeromio. The slight relief afforded by the imprisonment of Fleetword was speedily succeeded by a state of mind bordering on madness. Stopping for a few moments at the lodge of Cecil Place, he warned the old porter not to admit, but to detain, any person, man or woman, who might inquire for him, no matter under what pretext entrance might be demanded; for he assured the old man there was a deranged youth, who pretended to have known him abroad, and who, he was informed, had used unaccountable threats against him. Sir Willmott, moreover, enforced his instructions by a handsome present, and was proceeding to the house, when the gate-bell rang, and a man, habited as a travelling merchant, presented a parcel, directed "For Sir Willmott Burrell. These----" Burrell commanded the messenger into the lodge room; the stranger, after some hesitation, entered. Sir Willmott briefly dismissed the old porter, and undid the packet; when, lo! the matted and gory head of the Italian, Jeromio, rolled at his feet. There it lay, in all the hideous deformity of sudden and violent death! the severed throat, thickened with gouts of blood! the dimmed spectral eyes starting from their sockets! the lips shrinking from the teeth of glaring whiteness--there it lay, looking up, as it were, into the face of the base but horrified associate. His utterance was impeded, and a thick mist came over him, as he sank into the old porter's chair. "What does this mean?" he said at length to the man, whom he now recognised as one of the sailors of the Fire-fly.--"What means it?" "A wedding present from Hugh Dalton, is all I heard about the matter," returned the fellow, quietly turning a morsel of tobacco in his mouth, and eyeing the knight with ineffable contempt. "You must give information of this most horrible murder--you witnessed it--it will make your fortune," continued Sir Willmott, springing from the seat, and, like a drowning man, seizing even at a straw. "I can take your deposition--this most foul murder may make your fortune--think of that.--What ho!" he would have called the porter, but the man prevented him, and then burst into a laugh, wild as a wild sea-wave. "Lodge informations! You a law-maker! May I never spin another yarn, but ye are precious timber! Shiver and blazes! haven't ye with your palaver and devilry worked harm enou' aboard our ship, but ye want me to be pickled up, or swing from the yard-arm! No, no, master; I'll keep off such a lee-shore. I've no objections in life to a--any thing--but ye'r informations. Ah! ah! ah! what sinnifies a hundred such as that," and he kicked at the bloody head, "or such as you," pointing to Sir Willmott, "in comparison to the bold Buccaneer! Look here, master--whatever ye'r name be--they say the law and the pirates often sail under false colours; and blow me but I believe it now, when sich as you have to do with one of 'em. Bah! I'd cry for the figure-head of our ship, if she had sich a bridegroom." "You shall not escape me, villain!" exclaimed Sir Willmott, rendered desperate by his adverse fortunes, and springing towards the seaman.--"But stay," he added, drawing back, "you," hesitatingly, "you are honest to your captain: well, there is something you could do for me, that----" He paused--and the sailor took advantage of the pause to say,-- "A farewell and foul weather to ye, master! Look, if you could make ye'r whole head into one great diamond, and lay it at my feet, as that carrion lies at yours, may I die on a sandbank like a dry herring, if I'd take it to do one of the dirty jobs ye're for ever plotting!" Oh, what a degrading thing it is to be scoffed at by our superiors! How prone we are to resent it when our equals meet us with a sneer! But when the offscouring of society, the reptiles that we could have trodden under foot, may rail at and scorn us with impunity, how doubly bitter, how perfectly insupportable must it be! The very ministers of evil scouted him, and sin and misery thought him too contemptible to deal with! Burrell gnashed his teeth and struck his temples with his clenched fist--the room turned round--the bloody head of Jeromio uplifted itself to his imaginings, and gibbered, and cursed, and muttered, and laughed at him in fiendish merriment! If Zillah could have seen Burrell at that moment, she would have pitied and prayed for him: the strong man trembled as a weak girl in the shiverings of a mortal fever--his heart shuddered within his bosom--he lost all power of reasoning, and it was not until huge drops of perspiration had forced their way along his burning brow, that he at all recovered his faculties. He gazed around the small apartment; but the man was gone. The lodge window that looked on the road was open, and the knight's first effort was to reach it. The pure air of heaven, breathing so sweetly upon his pale and agonised countenance, revived him for the moment, and his energetic mind in a short space was restrung and wound up to fresh exertion. He resolved to set some of his own people to watch about the grounds, in case Zillah should attempt to obtain entrance; and though he felt assured they would do but little for him, yet he knew they would do much for gold, and that he resolved they should have in abundance. The marriage once over, he fancied himself safe--safe from all but the Buccaneer. Hope is strong at all times, but never more so than when we are roused from despair. He turned from the window, and his eye fell on the bloody head of the traitor Jeromio. He knew that, if the porter saw it, there would be an outcry and an investigation, which it was absolutely necessary, under existing circumstances, to avoid; for old Saul was one of those honest creatures who hold it a duty to tell all truth, and nothing but truth, to their employers. He therefore wrapped it carefully in the napkin in which it had been originally enveloped, and then covered it over with his own kerchief. After another moment of deliberation, he summoned the old man, and directed him to bear it to the house. "But where is the stranger, sir?" inquired Saul. "Oh, he passed from the window, to save you the trouble of unclosing the gate." It was fortunate for Sir Willmott Burrell that age had deprived Saul of more faculties than one. CHAPTER XI. Where though prison'd, he doth finde, Hee's still free, that's free in minde; And in trouble, no defence Is so firm as innocence. WITHER. When the poor preacher found that Burrell was really gone, and had left him a prisoner, without the remotest prospect of escape, he felt (to use his own expression) "rather mazed," and forthwith applied his hand to the lock, with the vain hope of extricating himself as speedily as possible: he found, however, the entrance closed firm and fast, and, moreover, of so solid a construction, that, with all his effort, he was unable to move it in the slightest degree. He would have welcomed the idea that the Master of Burrell did but jest; yet there had been that about his demeanour which excluded all thought of merriment, and Fleetword felt his limbs tremble beneath him when he reflected on the desperate character of the man with whom he had to deal. "The Lord can make a way for safety even from this den," he muttered, "yea, even from this fastness, which, of a truth, is most curiously fashioned, and of evil intention, doubtless." The little light that was admitted into the cell came through an aperture in the cliff at so great a height from the floor that it could hardly be observed, even if it had been left unprotected by a ledge of stone that projected a considerable distance under the opening, which was scarcely large enough to permit the entrance of a sufficient quantity of air. The atmosphere was therefore dense and heavy, and the preacher drew his breath with difficulty. The chamber, we should observe, was directly over that in which we have heretofore encountered the Buccaneer; for the interior of the cliff was excavated in various parts, so as more nearly to resemble the formation of a bee-hive than any other structure. It was filled, as we have stated, with a variety of matters, for which either there was no immediate demand, or that time had rendered useless. Of these, Fleetword piled a quantity one over the other, and standing tiptoe on the topmost parcel, succeeded in peeping through the aperture, but could perceive nothing except the broad sea stretching away in the distance until it was bounded by the horizon. As he was about to descend, one of the packages rolled from under the rest, and the hapless preacher came to the ground amidst a multitude of bales of cloth, logs of ebony, cramps, and spoiled martin-skins, and found himself half in and half out of a box of mildewed oranges, into which he had plumped, and which repaid the intrusion by splashing him all over with their pulpy and unpleasant remains. It was some time before he could extricate himself from this disagreeable mass, and still longer before he could cleanse off the filthy fragments from his garments. When he had done so, however, his next care was to bestow the papers he had rescued from Burrell into some safe place. "The Lord," he thought, "hath, at his own good pleasure, given Satan or his high priest dominion over me, and it may be that I shall be offered up upon the altar of Baal or Dagon as a sacrifice; but it shall be one of sweet-smelling savour, untainted by falsehood or dissimulation. Verily, he may destroy my body--and I will leave these documents, which by an almost miraculous interposition of Providence have been committed to my charge, so that one time or other they may be found of those by whom they may be needed." He carefully sought and ransacked every parcel he could find in search of pencil, ink, or any thing by which he could direct a letter; but in vain. He discovered, however, some parchments, whereon the words "Oliver Lord Protector" were frequently inscribed: he cut off a slip containing this sentence, and having encased the papers he had seized, in many folds, pinned it upon the parcel, so that it might serve as a direction. He then corded it so firmly that it would require both industry and patience to dissever the several knots and twistings. Having performed so much of his task, he set himself to consider what possible means he could devise to secure its safe delivery. He had previously shouted and called with all his strength; but when he remembered the length of the passage he had traversed with his subtle guide, and the little appearance there was of any apartment near the one in which he was confined, he desisted, wisely determining not to waste, in such useless efforts, the breath that, perhaps, he would be suffered to retain only for a few short hours. Greatly he lamented his want of caution in accompanying Burrell; and bitterly wept at the fate that awaited his favourite, Constantia. At length, after much deliberation, he determined on building a more secure standing-place, mounting once again to the window, fastening the longest string he could find to the parcel, and merely confining it to the inside of the cave in so slight a manner, that it might be detached by the least pull. He would have thrown it down at once, trusting that some one on the beach would find it; but he was aware that the tide at high water washed up the cliffs, so that there was but small chance of its not being borne away upon the waters. He also remembered that there were sundry little pathways winding up the chalky rocks, where he had seen people walk; and that, by God's good blessing, the packet might be found by some one wandering there. Having accomplished this object, he took his seat on a pile of moth-eaten clothes, and drawing forth his little pocket Bible, set himself to read the Holy Scripture, with as much diligence as if he had never before opened the blessed and consoling volume. Two classes of persons peruse the Sacred Book; one from pure love of, and entire dependence on, the words and precepts contained therein; the other from habit--"their mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers did so before them--always on a Sunday--and sometimes (when they had time) during the week--and God forbid that they should ever be worse than their ancestors!" The Reverend Jonas Fleetword belonged partly to the one class, partly to the other: his progenitors, for upwards of a century, had been foremost in forwarding the religion of the Gospel; they had fought for it both with carnal and spiritual weapons, and he had followed in their footsteps without swerving either to the right hand or the left; but, to do him justice, he was stimulated to activity in his vocation by a better motive than that which arises either from custom or an estimate of hereditary right--he was at heart, as well as in word, a Christian, and the promises contained in, together with the prospects held out by, the book he perused so eagerly, had been, from the moment when reason dawned, the ruling principle by which his life was governed. We pause not to inquire whether he had duly weighed or correctly interpreted all its precepts--whether the hastiness of his nature was not at times opposed to the meek and unupbraiding example of his Divine Master--whether he did not now and then mistake bitterness for sincerity, and persecution for zeal; such errors were but too common to the age in which he lived, and with the church of which he was a member. Never did Gospel hope and Gospel consolation visit him with greater welcome than at the moment of which we write. He entertained little doubt but that his enemy meditated towards him some evil that placed his life in danger: such, however, was not the case; Burrell had agreed to defer the marriage until six of the clock that evening; and, after the ceremony had been concluded, he entertained no doubt that the preacher would retain the secret now in his possession for Constantia's sake. At Cecil Place all was confusion, for the mind of its afflicted mistress was scarcely able to bear up against the weight of misery that pressed upon it; and Lady Frances Cromwell felt happy and relieved when, about eight in the morning, she fell into an apparently sound sleep. The preparations for the wedding devolved entirely upon her; but, like most persons of an exalted rank, although she knew when things were properly done, she was ignorant how to do them: she, therefore, contented herself with directing her women to make all matters in order; while they, proud and pleased at the commission, gave every body as much trouble as possible. Sir Robert wandered about the house like a troubled spirit, anxious, yet dreading, to see his child; while Sir Willmott, after using every precaution within his power against Zillah's appearance, endeavoured to find occupation by inspecting the carriages that were to convey them to his aunt's house in Surrey, where he had previously determined that they should pass many of the succeeding days--an object not only of convenience, but of necessity, inasmuch as he could thus gain time to arrange with his servants and tenantry at his own dwelling. Mrs. Claypole had written to Lady Frances, stating that the Protector did not wish his daughter to accompany her friend to the abode of Sir Willmott's aunt, and would, therefore, send a suitable escort to conduct her to Whitehall immediately after the ceremony was concluded. Mrs. Claypole also added that she had left Hampton Court for the purpose of meeting her dear sister Frances in London, as her mother had been indisposed, and could not conveniently do so. The letter prayed for many blessings on the head of their sweet friend Constantia, adding that, from what she heard of her decision on the subject, she could hardly believe contradictory reports--as to her heart being given elsewhere, inasmuch as she must know it to be less evil to break a contract made in youth, with which the mind and feelings had no connection, than to register a solemn pledge of affection and faithfulness before the Lord, where in fact there could be no affection, and faithfulness must be a plant of forced and not of natural growth. "Yet would they all wax marvellously wroth," said Lady Frances, "if I were to draw my own conclusions from this opinion, and act thereupon. I wonder, does my being the daughter of his Highness the Lord Protector make it less necessary for me to be true and upright? and can a woman be either, yet pledge her hand and faith to one for whom she cares not?---- Yet--" She paused, for she had perused the letter within the chamber, and beside the couch on which Constance was still sleeping, and as her eyes fell upon her friend, she could pronounce no harsh judgment upon an act performed by one she loved so dearly, and of whose truth and uprightness there could be no doubt. While the note was yet open before her, the door opened, and Sir Robert Cecil entered. Lady Frances motioned him that Miss Cecil slept, and the old man stooped over her bed with clasped hands, scarcely breathing, lest he should disturb her rest. "Has she slept thus all the night?" he whispered.--"Has she slept thus soundly all the night, Lady Frances?" "No, sir," was the reply; and it was delivered in a tone of unusual sternness; for it must be remembered that she entertained much anger against Sir Robert, for permitting the marriage to take place so manifestly against the inclination of his daughter. "No, sir, it is many nights since she has slept soundly." "But, lady, see how sweet, how gentle her repose! Surely, she could not sleep thus with a heavy heart?" "Sir Robert," replied Lady Frances, "the heart's heaviness will make heavy the eyelids; nay, with greater certainty, when they are swollen with weeping." The baronet stooped down, as if to ascertain the correctness of what the lady had said, and at the instant a tear forced its way through the long fringes that rested on his daughter's pallid cheek. He groaned audibly, and left the apartment with the stealthy step and subdued deportment of a proclaimed criminal. "They are all mystery, one and all, mystery from beginning to end," thought Lady Frances, as with a heavy heart she went in search of her women to ascertain how they were fulfilling her directions. In one of the passages she met Barbara weeping bitterly. "Tears, tears! nothing but tears!" said the Protector's daughter, kindly. "What ails thee now, girl? Surely there is some new cause for grief, or you would not weep thus?" "My lady, I hardly know what is come over me, but I can scarcely stanch my tears: every thing goes ill. I sent two of the serving maidens to gather flowers, to help to dress up the old chapel, that looks more like a sepulchre than any thing else. And what do you think, my lady, they brought me? Why, rue, and rosemary, and willow boughs; and I chid them, and sent them for white and red roses, lilies and the early pinks, which the stupid gipsies brought at last, and I commenced nailing up the boughs of some gay evergreens amongst the clustering ivy, that has climbed over the north window--the lower one I mean; and just as I had finished, and was about to twist in a garland of such sweet blush roses, an adder, a living adder, trailing its length all up the fretted window, stared with its dusky and malignant eyes full in my face, and pranked out its forked tongue dyed in the blackest poison. Oh, madam! how I screamed--and I know the creature was bent on my destruction, for, when I jumped down, it uncoiled, and fell upon the earth, coming towards me as I retreated, when Crisp (only think, my lady, of the wisdom of that poor dog!)--little Crisp seized it, somewhere by the neck, and in a moment it was dead!" "You should smile at that, not weep," observed Lady Frances, patting her cheek as she would that of a petted child. "Oh, but," said Barbara, "it was so horrid, and I was almost sorry Crisp killed it! for it is an awful thing to destroy life, yet it was wickedly venomous." "Ah, my poor maid! you will have worse troubles soon than that which bids you mourn over an adder's death." "Do not say so, sweet lady," interrupted Barbara: "ah! do not say so: for I feel, I can hardly tell how, so very, very sad. My poor lady, and my poor self! and you going away, madam--you, who keep up the life of every thing; and, though your waiting maids seem so rejoiced to get back to the court! I don't know what I shall do, not I. I only wish----" She paused abruptly. "Tell me what you wish, my pretty Barbara--a new cap, kirtle, hood, or farthingale? What, none of these!" "I was only wishing that Robin Hays was come back, because he would understand my troubles." "You pay a poor compliment to my understanding, Barbara," observed Lady Frances, with whom Barbara was at all times an especial favourite. The simple maid courtesied respectfully, while she replied, "My lady, it would ill become me to make free with such as you, but I have many small causes of trouble, which, even if you did hear, you could not comprehend. The brown wren would not go for counsel to the gay parrot, however wise and great the parrot might be, but seek advice from another brown wren, because it would understand and feel exactly the cares and troubles of its own kind." "What a little fabulist thou art, pretty Barbara! But, if you had been at court, you would not have likened a lady to a parrot." "Not to a parrot!" repeated Barbara; "such a beautiful bird! that looks so handsome and talks so well!" "No: but here is a parting present for you, my fair maid; a chain of gold. Stay, I will clasp it on your slender neck myself; and listen to me, Barbara. The daughters of the Protector of England would be ill worthy their father's name or their father's honours, did they not seek to protect the women of their country, and to keep them in virtue and innocence, as he protects the men, and guides them to war and victory, or to peace and honour! Would to God, fair girl, that, notwithstanding your simplicity, the maidens of Britain were all as right-minded and gentle as yourself! As a proof how highly I value your faithful and true affection, I bestow upon you an ornament I have long worn, not to feed your vanity (for we are all vain, more or less,) but to strengthen your principles. If ever you should encounter real sorrow, and I can aid you, send me the clasp of this chain, and I will attend to your request, be it what it may." Lady Frances turned from her with more gravity of aspect and more dignity of demeanour than was her custom, and proceeded to look after the arrangements for her friend's nuptials. Barbara stood for some time after the lady's departure, holding the gift upon the palm of her small and beautifully formed hand, which no rough labour had hardened or sullied. Her eye brightened as she gazed upon the rich gift; but, in a moment, her thoughts reverted to those with whom were the best feelings of her happy and innocent heart. "Oh, that Robin had but been here!" she said, "to have heard it all. To think of her who is as great as a princess! What was it? 'faithful and true,' and, oh! how proud--no, I must not be proud--how grateful I am! If my father, _my_ father, too, had heard it; but I can show this to them both. I will not again think of that horrid adder." And with this resolution she crept softly into the chamber of her still sleeping lady. CHAPTER XII. Poor fool! she thought herself in wondrous price With God, as if in Paradise she were; But, were she not in a fool's paradise, She might have seen more reason to despair, And, therefore, as that wretch hew'd out his cell Under the bowels, in the heart of hell! So she, above the moon, amid the stars would dwell. GILES FLETCHER. We must leave Cecil Place for a while--suffer Manasseh Ben Israel to pursue his journey to Hampton Court--offer no intrusion upon the solitude of the preacher Fleetword--take no note of aught concerning Walter De Guerre or Major Wellmore--nor heed, for a time, whether the Buccaneer steered his course by land or water: attend to nothing, in fact, for the present, except the motives and actions of Zillah Ben Israel. The Jewish females were brought up, at the period of which we treat, with the utmost strictness, and kept in great seclusion, scarcely ever associating but with their own people, and enduring many privations in consequence of never mixing in general society. It is true they had companions of their own nation, and amusements befitting (according to the notions of the Elders) their state and age; but, nevertheless, they were held under much and injudicious restraint, the result of which was evil. It is seldom that the young can be held back by a tight and galling rein, without either biting the bit, or breaking the bridle. Zillah was the only child of her father, and nothing could exceed the expense or the care lavished upon her. Had Manasseh himself superintended her education, it is but fair to infer that his wisdom and judgment would have curbed the headstrong and stubborn nature of her mind and temper; but, deprived in her infancy of a mother's watchfulness, and Ben Israel's duty and business calling him continually from one country to another, she was necessarily intrusted to the care of certain relatives of his own, Polish Jews; who, though excellent friends in their way, and well versed in all the rites and ceremonies of the Mosaic law, were totally ignorant of the proper course to be pursued with a wild, high-spirited girl, fully aware of the importance of her father's wealth and influence, and panting for the time when she should share in both. The people with whom she resided perceived her wilfulness; but, instead of combating it with reason, they sought to overcome it by force--and the best of all force, according to their ideas, was that which a staid and sober husband might exercise. The person upon whom they fixed was a Jew diamond-dealer, who had numbered about as many years as her father, but was greatly his inferior both in sagacity and power; indeed, there were very few who could compete with the learned Rabbi, Manasseh Ben Israel, in either of these qualities. Cromwell thought most highly of his talents, and bestowed upon him a degree of confidence he reposed in few, treating him with a respect and attention which all classes of Christians thought he carried much too far; for, at that time, Toleration was only in its infancy, and true peace-loving Religion suffered much from the persecutions with which the successful party never failed to visit those over whom they had triumphed. Catholic against Protestant--Protestant against Catholic--Sectarian against both--both against Sectarian--all against Jew--and the defamed and despised Israelite obliged, in self-defence, to act by subtlety (for his strength had departed from him) against all! Cromwell took advantage of this state of things, and with much policy, but it is to be hoped also with much sincerity, exerted himself continually to render England a place of security and happiness to the wandering children of Israel. To quote his own words, his opinion was, "Since there was a promise that they should be converted, means ought to be used to that end; and the most likely way was, the preaching of the Gospel in truth and sincerity, as it was then in Britain--devoid of all Popish idolatry, which had rendered the Christian religion odious to them." But the design was so violently and so generally opposed, that it came to nothing. Many scrupled not to affirm, that the Protector had secured a conditional bribe, to an enormous amount, in case he procured for them equal toleration with English subjects; while others, with more show of truth, declared, that when Cromwell "understood what dealers the Jews were every where in that trade which depends on news, the advancing money upon high or low interest, in proportion to the risk they ran, or the gain to be made as affairs might turn up, and in the buying and selling of the actions of money so advanced, he, more upon that account, than with a view to tolerate their principles, brought a company of them over, and gave them leave to build a synagogue." It is certain that they were sure and trusty spies for him, especially with relation to Spain and Portugal, and that they never betrayed his confidence.--Is it not, however, most extraordinary, in these our own times, when the spirit of liberty is bestriding the whole earth "like a Colossus," that a people so faithful, so influential, and so peaceable, should be deprived of so many privileges?--privileges, which we are labouring with mind, pen, and purse, to procure for tribes of ignorant and uncivilised savages, who as yet are utterly unable to comprehend the nature of the freedom we seek to thrust upon them, but who are too often ready and eager to bite the hand that would bestow it? God forbid that we should desire it to be withholden from a single human being, whether black or white, who bears the impress of his Maker. But reason, policy, and humanity, may alike teach us that the blessing should _first_ be shared by those who have done most to deserve it--who know best how it should be used--and who have the most powerful hereditary claims upon the sympathy and consideration of Christians. The time is surely at hand, when the badge of ignominy shall be removed from them--at least in Britain--where, but for the exception to which we refer, Freedom is the birthright of every native of the soil. Cromwell knew their value to a state; and had he lived a few years longer, the Jew would have been at liberty to cultivate his own lands, and manure them (if it so pleased him) with his own gold, any where within the sea-girt isle of England. We must no longer digress, although upon a most important and most interesting topic, but proceed to inform our readers what they must already have anticipated, that Zillah had little inclination towards the husband procured for her by her injudicious friends. The Rabbi thought it altogether a suitable match, particularly as Ichabod could trace his descent from the tribe of Levi, and was of undoubted wealth, and, according to belief, unspotted reputation; but Zillah cared little for reputation, she knew not its value--little for wealth, for the finest and rarest jewels of the world sparkled in gorgeous variety upon her person, so that she moved more like a rainbow than a living woman--little, very little for the tribe of Levi, and less than all for Ichabod. His black eyes she likened to burnt cinders; she saw no beauty in a beard striped and mottled with grey, although it was perfumed with the sweets of Araby, and oiled with as pure and undefiled an unction as that which flowed from the horn of the ancient Samuel upon the head of the youthful David. His stateliness provoked her mirth--his deafness her impatience; and when she compared him with the joyous cavaliers, the brilliant and captivating men who graced the court of the gay and luxurious Louis, for whose gallant plumes and glittering armour she so often watched through her half-closed lattice, she turned from the husband they would have given with a disgust that was utterly insupportable. Her father had prevailed upon the family with whom she lived to remove to Paris during his residence in England, which had been prolonged from day to day, in compliance with the desire of the Protector. He was anxious that his child should be instructed in such elegant arts as those in which the ladies of France and England excelled--not remembering that, in a young, forward, and ill-educated woman, the dangerous desire of display succeeds the acquirement of accomplishments as surely and as regularly as day follows night. Thus, shut up in one of the most gloomy hotels in Paris--conveyed in a close carriage once or twice a week to the Bois de Boulogne, or the gardens of Versailles--fearing to express delight, lest she should be reproved for levity--or desire for any thing, lest it should be the very thing she would not be permitted to possess--the proud, warm, frank-hearted Jewess became gradually metamorphosed into the cunning, passionate, deceptive intriguante, only waiting for an opportunity to deceive her guardians, and obtain that which, from being so strictly forbidden, she concluded must be the greatest possible enjoyment--freedom of word and action. Alas! if we may use a homely phrase, many are the victims to strait-lacing, both of stays and conscience! But if the old, grey-bearded Ichabod had been an object of dislike to the youthful and self-willed Jewess before she saw Sir Willmott Burrell, how did she regard him afterwards! Manasseh Ben Israel had, as we have intimated, intrusted some packages for his daughter to the charge of the treacherous knight; and how he abused the trust has been already shown. But the poor Jewess found to her cost, that though she loved him with all the warmth and ardour of her own nature, he regarded her only as an object of pastime and pleasure; the idea of in reality marrying a Jewess never once entered into his calculation, though he was obliged to submit to something like the ceremony, before he could overcome scruples that are implanted with much care in the heart of every Jewish maiden. Although she deceived her guardians and her antiquated lover with great dexterity, it never occurred to her that Sir Willmott could be so base as to deceive her. She was new to the world and its ways; and the full torrent of her anger, jealousy, and disappointment burst upon him, when she found that the charms of a fair-haired lady had superseded her own, and that Burrell was already treating her with coldness. Of all the passions inherent in the heart of a woman, that of jealousy is the most dangerous to herself and others: it is fierce and restless in its nature; when infuriated, nothing can oppose its progress; and although most powerful in the most feeble-minded, it frequently assumes the semblance of intellectual strength. Zillah's jealousy kept pace with her headlong love, and in one of its most violent paroxysms she made the attempt on the life of Burrell, which, it is easy to believe, he never forgave. Subsequently, and during the remainder of his stay in Paris, he humoured her fancy, and led her to imagine that he had sufficient influence with Cromwell to prevail on him to interest her father on her behalf, and do what no Israelite of the time had ever done--recognise a Christian son-in-law. After Burrell's departure, however, she soon saw how little reliance was to be placed upon his promises, and therefore resolved to act for herself. Suspicion and jealousy divided her entire soul between them; and she determined not to trust Dalton to bring her over to England, because Burrell had recommended her to do so. Jeromio was known to the person at whose house she lodged at St. Vallery, and, hearing that she wanted to get to England, and would dispense much largess to secure a passage, he thought he could make something by secreting her on board, and then passing her off to his captain as a dumb boy. To this plan Zillah readily agreed, for her imagination was at all times far stronger than her reason. She had cast her life upon a die, and cared not by what means her object was to be secured. It is one of the most extraordinary anomalies in the female character, that, having once outstepped the boundaries that are never even thought upon but with danger, it plunges deeper and deeper still into irretrievable ruin. Perhaps it is because women must feel most acutely that society never permits them to retrieve, or, what is much the same, takes no cognisance of their repentance, be it ever so sincere: their station once lost is never to be regained; it would seem as if Dante's inscription on the gates of Hell were to be for ever their motto--"All hope abandon." Man may err, and err, and be forgiven; but poor woman, with all his temptations and but half his strength, is placed beyond the pale of earthly salvation if she be but once tempted into crime! It is a hard, even though it may be a salutary law. It must be borne in mind that Zillah had committed as great an iniquity in the eyes of her people by marrying as by intriguing; nor could she expect pardon for either one or the other, except by some wonderful and powerful interposition, such as Burrell held out. It was astonishing to witness the fortitude with which the fragile and delicate Jewess, who had been clothed in purple and fine linen, fed on the most costly viands, and slept on the most downy couch, encountered the illness, terrors, and miseries attendant on a sea voyage in the vessel of a Buccaneer. The Fire-fly certainly deserved every encomium bestowed upon her by her captain; yet was she not the most pleasing residence for a delicately-nurtured female. No murmur escaped her sealed lips, nor, in fact, did she perceive the inconveniences by which she was surrounded; her mind was wholly bent upon the prevention of Sir Willmott Burrell's marriage, of which she had heard from undoubted authority; and it would appear that she had no feelings, no ideas to bestow upon, or power to think of, other things. Jeromio's plotting but weak mind, never satisfied with the present, eager for the future, and anxious to make it better by foul means, had contrived to bring into use an abandoned excavation under the old tower we have so frequently mentioned, which had been forsaken by Hugh Dalton's party from its extreme dampness. They had filled the entrance with fragments of rock and large stones; but it was known to Jeromio, who, thinking that during his occasional visits to Gull's Nest he might manage to smuggle a little on his own account, assisted by two other Italians as evil-minded as himself, arranged the stones so as to permit one person at a time to creep into the wretched hole, where he stowed away such parts of the cargo of the Fire-fly as he could purloin from his too-confiding commander. He admitted Zillah to a knowledge of this cave, as a place in which she might shelter. He knew her to be a female of wealth and consequence; yet had no idea of her connection with the Master of Burrell, whom he had rarely seen; and though of necessity she occasionally mixed with the people of the Gull's Nest, yet she expressed so strong a desire for some place of privacy in the neighbourhood of Cecil Place, and paid so liberally for it withal, that he confided to her the secret of this cave--the entrance to which was nearly under the window of the tower in which Barbara Iverk had been concealed on the night when, by her lady's direction, she sought to communicate to Robin Hays the perilous situation of the young Cavalier. At that time, also, the Jewess saw Sir Willmott for the first time in England. She had been on the watch ever since her landing, but terror for her own wretched life had prevented her addressing him openly. The tones of his well-known voice had reached her miserable cavern, and roused her from a troubled slumber. She understood too little of his language to comprehend the nature of his communication to Roupall, and her first impulse was to strike a dagger to his heart; but this, her womanly affection prevented, and she suddenly withdrew. Subsequently, she wrote to Mrs. Constantia, and trusted much to her generosity and truth of character, of which she had heard in France; but poor Constance, through the cowardice of Jeromio, never received her packet, and, enraged and maddened by the reports of his immediate marriage, she resolved on seeing Mistress Cecil, and accomplished her purpose, as she thought, when in fact she only saw Barbara. Her jealousy and violence defeated her purpose at that time; but still her determination remained fixed to prevent the union, if her life were to be the forfeit. After meeting with the knight, she retreated into the earth, from which she had so suddenly appeared, much to the Master of Burrell's astonishment, who had no knowledge whatever of the cave, though he doubted not it was of Dalton's preparing. After securing the preacher, he examined every portion of the ruins most attentively, but without success, for she had learned to be as wily as a fox, and had carefully secured the aperture, through which even her delicate form passed with difficulty. It would have touched a heart, retaining any degree of feeling, to see that young and beautiful woman within that damp and noisome excavation--so damp that cold and slimy reptiles clung to, and crept over, its floor and walls, while the blind worm nestled in the old apertures formed to admit a little air; and the foul toad, and still more disgusting eft, looked upon her, as they would say, "Thou art our sister." "And here," thought she, "must the only child of Manasseh Ben Israel array herself, to meet the gaze of the proud beauty who would not deign to notice the letter or the supplication of the despised Jewess; to meet the gaze of the cold stern English, and of the cruel man who points the finger of scorn against her he has destroyed. Yet I seek but justice, but to be acknowledged as his wife, in the open day and before an assembled people, and then he shall hear and see no more of the Rabbi's daughter! I will hide myself from the world, and look upon all mankind as I do upon him--with a bitter hatred!--Yet I was not always thus," she continued, as she clasped a jewel on her arm: "The bracelet is too wide for the shrunk flesh! Out, out upon thee, bauble! O that I could thus--and thus--and thus--trample into this black and slimy earth, every vestige of what I was, and have no more the power to think of what I am! Is this the happiness I looked for? Are these the feelings of my girlhood? My heart seems cold within me, cold to every thought but vengeance! Even the burden I carry--it is part of him, and with the groans that come in woman's travail I will mingle curses, deep and blasting, on its head. O that I could cast it from me! And yet--and yet it will be my own child!" And the feelings of the mother triumphed; for, at that thought, the Jewess wept, and tears are as balm to an overwrought mind, at once a relief and a consolation. Zillah wept, and was humanised. After a little time, she arrayed herself in befitting garments, but placed pistols within her bosom. Long before the appointed hour, and despite the watchfulness of Sir Willmott's spies, she was secreted near the ruined chapel adjoining Cecil Place. CHAPTER XIII. Hither, th' oppressed shall henceforth resort, Justice to crave and succour at your court, And then your Highness, not for ours alone, But for the world's Protector shall be known. WALLER _to the Protector_. It was past midnight when Manasseh Ben Israel, accompanied by Robin Hays, as his own servant, and disguised as we have seen him, arrived at Hampton Court. The night was murky, and the numerous turrets of the great monument of Wolsey's grandeur and ambition were seen but dimly through the thickened air, although looked upon with feelings of no ordinary interest by both Jew and servitor. The carriage was stopped at the outer court by the sentries on guard, and some little delay occurred, apparently to ascertain if the Rabbi could be admitted at so late an hour. Robin looked from the carriage-window and saw, what appeared to him, scores of mailed and armed warriors reclining on the stone benches of a spacious but low guard-room, while others crowded over a large fire, which the chilliness of the night rendered, at least, desirable. The glaring of the flames showed brightly on their polished armour, and their firm immovable features looked of a piece with the iron itself. Nothing could be more imposing, or afford a more correct idea of Cromwell's perseverance and judgment, than his well-trained soldiery. Obedience, inflexible obedience to their commander, seemed the leading, almost the only principle upon which they acted: not that slavish obedience which is the effect of fear, but the obedience which is the result of confidence. "God and the Protector" was their faith, and they knew no other. As the Jew gazed upon those invincible men, he shrouded himself still more closely within his furred cloak, and shuddered. Robin's eye, on the contrary, brightened, for he was born of England, and proud of her greatness. Ah! Englishmen in those days had a right to be proud. There was another difference in the conduct of the Protector's troops from those of every other time and every other nation: they had none of the reckless wildness, none of the careless bravery which is supposed necessarily to belong to the profession of arms. Their habits were staid and sober; and if any Cavaliers did enter in among them, they were forced to behave themselves according to the fashion of their associates, which habit, in a little time, tamed their heedlessness into propriety. There was no singing of profane songs in the guard-room, no filthy jesting or foolish talking; no drinking; their very breathing seemed subdued, and nothing frighted the tranquillity which rested on the turrets at Hampton, and pervaded its courts, save the striking of some iron heel on the ringing pavement, or the neighing of some gallant steed in the not distant stables. Once, indeed, a psalm wailed through the casement from one of the inner courts: it was sung at first in a troubled tone, and in a low key, but afterwards the sound was increased by other voices; and it swelled upon the ear in long and loud continuance. "He has departed, then!" observed one of the sentries, to an armed man who stood near the carriage. "I suppose so, and, I trust, in the Lord," was the reply. "Doubtless--yet the heart was strong for life. His Highness will be sorrowful." "He will; but grace abounded greatly; he was one of the Lord's best soldiers, and fought well in the good cause." "Would that my time was passed! I would fain uplift my voice with theirs." "I will go there forthwith," replied he in armour; and Robin heard the echo of his step die in the distance. Ere the messenger, despatched by the officer of the guard, had returned, a sort of rambling drowsy conversation was carried on by the soldiers within, which only reached the quick ear of the Ranger at intervals. "His Highness has been tormented to-night; methinks the length of a summer day ought to satisfy those who want to see him." The sun had set a good hour or more, when Sir Christopher Packe, the worshipful Lord Mayor, passed in. "His Highness," replied the stern gruff voice of an old soldier, "is of the people; and he knows that his duty--next to awaiting the Lord always--is to wait on them." "His time is not an easy one, then," thought Robin; and as he so thought, the messenger returned with an order that the Rabbi should be immediately admitted. The lumbering carriage passed under one archway, and traversed a small court--then under another--then across the next--then stopped, and one of the principal servants opened the door, and requested Manasseh to descend. "Her Highness," he said, "had been indisposed; the Lord Protector, therefore, hoped the worthy Israelite would not object to walk across the next court, as her chamber was nearly over the entrance." The Jew leaned upon Robin for support, as they mounted the flight of steps leading to the grand entrance hall. He paused once or twice; they were many in number, and hard to climb for one bent with age, and now bowed down by trouble. When they arrived at the great door, he perceived that, instead of two, there were four sentries, who stood, two on each side, like fixed statues, and the torch their conductor carried glittered on the bright points of their swords that rested on the ground. The stair was faintly illumined by one large massive iron lamp, hanging from the ceiling, and flickering, so as to show the outline, not the minutiæ of the objects. When they had fairly entered the great hall, Robin truly and sincerely wished himself safely out again; the more particularly when he saw, mingled with the pages and servants in waiting, some tried and trusty soldiers, by whom, if his disguise were penetrated, he would be better known than trusted. It was one thing to steal and pry about a place, and another to be only separated by a single plank of oak from Cromwell--the all-powerful, all-seeing Protector of England--liable to be called at once into his presence; for the Jew might mention--doubtless would mention--that one who had served Sir Willmott Burrell, and knew much of his doings, was in attendance. This magnificent room, though used as a hall of audience on state occasions, was generally occupied by the guards, retainers, and petitioners of the Protectorate. There was a long table of rude workmanship near the door at which they entered--above was a lamp, similar in size and construction to that which swung outside:--many assembled round, or sat close to, this table, while others walked up and down--not passing, however, the centre of the hall, which was crossed by a silk cord of crimson, fastened in the middle to two brass poles, standing sufficiently apart to permit one person at a time to enter; and also guarded by a single sentinel, who walked so as to pass and repass the opening every half minute. Manasseh paced slowly towards the soldier, still leaning on Robin. His conductor kept a little in advance, bowing on either side, while a conciliating smile lingered on his lip, until he came to the silken line. "Only one may pass!" was the soldier's brief notice; and the Rabbi, grasping his staff more firmly, walked to the door opposite the great entrance, which was guarded also by another sentinel. "You can find a seat--that is, if you choose to sit," said the servitor sneeringly, to Robin, pointing at the same time to an empty corner of the hall. "Or would it please you I descend to the apartments of the lower servants?" inquired the Ranger, remembering the meekness befitting the character of a Jew. "None leave this hall, after entering it by his Highness's permission, till they receive orders to that effect," he replied, turning from Robin, who slunk to the place assigned him, in no very agreeable mood. If his imaginings were of an unpleasant description, still more so were the observations made aloud by the pages, flippant both by nature and usage, and the sarcastic and cool jests, given forth at his expense by the more sober persons of the assembly. "Wouldst like any refreshment, friend?" inquired a youth in a sad-coloured tunic and blue vest, over which fell a plain collar of the finest Valenciennes' lace, so as to cover his shoulders. "And yet," continued the malapert, "methinks there is nothing to offer thee but some ham, or preserved pigs' tongues, which, of course, thou tastest not of." "No, I humbly thank ye, young sir," replied Robin; "I do not need the pigs' tongues, having tasted of thine." "What mean you by that, Jew dog!" said the boy fiercely, laying his hand on his sword. "Nothing, fair gentleman, except it be that thine, though well preserved, would fain take up the business of thy white teeth." "How, knave?" "Become biting," replied Robin, bowing. "Ah, Morrison! the Jew is too much for ye," said another youth, who was just roused from a half slumber in a high-backed chair.--"Where got ye yer wit?" "Where you did not get yours, under favour," was Robin's ready reply. "And where was that?" "From nature; too common a person for so gay a young gentleman to be beholden to," he retorted, bowing again with even a greater show of humility than before. At this reply, Sir John Berkstead, formerly a goldsmith in the Strand, but gradually raised to the dignity of chief steward of Oliver's household, approached Robin with his usual shuffling gait, and said,-- "Hey! young gentlemen--hey! young gentlemen, what foolish jesting is this? what mean ye? It is his Highness's pleasure to receive the master, and what for do ye treat the man with indignity? My worthy Samuel," he looked closer--"but it is not Samuel," he continued, peering curiously at Robin, "it is not Samuel. What ho! Gracious Meanwell! did this man enter with the learned Manasseh Ben Israel?" "Yes, please ye, Sir John," replied the page, humbly. "Indeed!" he exclaimed, surveying Robin attentively. "But where is the Rabbi's usual attendant, whom I have before seen?" "He is sick even unto death, unless it please the God of Abraham to work a miracle in his favour," replied Robin: thinking to himself, "he remembers enough, at least, of his old trade to know all is not gold that glitters." Sir John Berkstead withdrew, only observing to the page, who stood back, boy-like, longing for any frolic likely to relieve the monotony of so dull a court, especially at midnight, "See ye do not treat him uncourteously. The Rabbi has always been permitted to bring his attendant, almost to the anteroom: a favour seldom granted--but his Highness is gracious in remembering that his bodily infirmities need support. So see that he is treated with all courtesy, for his Highness is wishful that Christian toleration be exercised towards this and all other Jews." More than one Roundhead looked at another during this declaration; and all but the two youngsters appeared more than usually intent upon whatever they were employed about before the Rabbi's entrance. Youth is a bad courtier, ever preferring frolic and amusement to sobriety and attention. They had been at once piqued and pleased by Robin's smartness, and resolved to whet their own wit upon so well-tempered a steel. "Wert ever at court before?" inquired the younger. "No, sir, an' please ye." "And what think ye of it?" "Nothing as yet, sir." "Nothing! how is that?" "Because I have not had time; and, if the small things of life require thoughtfulness, how much more must the great things of a court!" "Shouldst like to turn Christian and live at court?" "Heaven forbid! All I should be turned to would be ridicule, and that is a wonderful lowerer of the consequence of even a serving man----" "Hush!" said the elder page--"there goes Colonel John Jones." As the brother-in-law of the Protector approached, the several persons in the hall rose and saluted him with considerable respect. His aspect was stern and rigid: his whole person firm and erect; and whatever his faults might have been, he gave one the idea of a person who, doing wrong, thought it right. His eyes were generally upturned, and there was a good deal of enthusiasm in the expression of the upper portion of his countenance, while the firm-set mouth and broad muscular chin betokened the most inflexible resolution. He proceeded towards the cord we have before mentioned, exchanged a few words with the sentry, and then returned to the door whereby he had entered. While unclosing it, he perceived Robin, and, struck by his Jewish appearance, altered his course and approached him. The Ranger bent most lowlily to the ground, for he well knew the veneration this man excited both amongst soldiers and Puritans. "One of the cast-aways within the sanctuary!" he said in a stern reproving voice. "How is it?" "Sir, his master, the Rabbi, tarrieth with his Highness," replied the elder page. "It is evil, and of evil," returned Colonel Jones, with still more severity, "The clean and the unclean, the believer and the unbeliever, the offscouring of the earth with the chosen of the Lord! Why is he not cast forth, yea into outer darkness? Why should the filthy vulture make his nest with the eagles? Dog of a Jew, out, into the highway!" "May it please ye," interrupted Gracious Meanwell, "his Highness has just issued express orders that this man be carefully tended, and kept within." The Colonel cast a look full of displeasure at the messenger, and without trusting himself to utter another word, strode from the hall. "You see where we would send Jews," observed one of the lads. "Even where they would rather be." "How, where?" "Far from ye." "And deem ye it not an honour to be admitted within these walls?" "Ay, sir, such honour as a poor merlin would feel at being caged with honourable and right honourable eagles. But would ye unravel me, kind young gentlemen, if Colonel Jones is often seen without his Patients?" "Oh! you mean the preacher, do ye? Why, yes, frequently now-a-days." "Ah! what a blessing that must be!" "As how? master Jew." "Because others can have their soles mended." The jest upon the miserable fanatic Patients, who had been a stocking-footer in London, was not lost upon the lads, though they dared not countenance it by a very boisterous laugh: they resolved, however, to become more intimately acquainted with the facetious Jew. "You ought not to laugh so loud, Morrison," said the elder page. "You know you are a sort of nephew to his Highness, now that your uncle, Doctor Wilkins, is married to the Lady French, his Highness's sister." "And here is my uncle," returned the other. "He said he had permission to call for me. Ah! he is never angry at a little jest, so long as it is innocent. I heard a gentleman say last night that 'he was by nature witty, by industry learned, by grace godly.' What think ye of that for a character?" As the subject of this panegyric drew near, Robin thought he had never seen a more sweet or gracious countenance: he looked "peace on earth and good will towards men." His entire expression was that of pure benevolence; and though the eye was something wild and dreamy, yet it was gentle withal, and of marvellous intelligence. He seemed like one, and such he truly was, to whom the future as well as the present would be deeply indebted. The use he made of his alliance with the Cromwell family must ever be regarded as most noble; instead of aggrandising himself and his friends, he rendered it only subservient to the great wish of his heart--the promotion of learning, which, it cannot be denied, was at that time in danger of being overthrown by bigotry and fanaticism: for this reason it was that he opportunely interposed to shelter Oxford from the moroseness of Owen and Godwin. Well might his eye look dreamy. How could that of the author of a "Discovery of a New World" look otherwise? He openly maintained that, not only was the moon habitable, but that it was possible for a man to go there. His reply to the Duchess of Newcastle, herself a visionary, when she jested a little at his theory, although sufficiently known, is still worthy of repetition. "Where am I to find a place for baiting at, in my way up to that planet?" she inquired of the Doctor. "Madam," replied he, "of all the people in the world, I never expected that question from you, who have built so many castles in the air, that you may lie every night at one of your own." As he conducted his nephew to the door, he turned back to look on Robin: "You have not teased the poor Jew, I hope?" he said to the page. "No; but he has worried us, uncle; you know not what a wit-snapper it is." "Indeed! art thou a Solomon, friend?" "An' please ye, sir, the wisdom, as well as the glory, has departed from our people," said Robin. "I care little for the glory," observed the Doctor, who was Warden of Wadham College; "I care very little for any earthly glory: but canst tell me where the wisdom is gone--the wisdom, Jew, the wisdom! Where is that to be found?" "Usually at the College of Wadham," replied the crafty Robin, bowing respectfully, "though sometimes it wanders abroad to enlighten England." "Go to; you are a most cunning Isaac," said Doctor Wilkins, laughing; and at the same time throwing Robin a piece of silver, which he caught, with much dexterity, ere it touched the ground. "This is the only unwise thing your worship ever did," continued Robin, depositing the silver safely in his leathern purse. "How so, most cunning Jew?" "Bestowing money--when there can be no interest thereupon." "You have never heard, I fear," said Doctor Wilkins, who, with true Christian spirit, was ever ready to speak a word in season--"you have never heard of laying up treasures in a place where neither moth nor rust can corrupt, and where thieves cannot break through and steal?" "I have heard some Christians speak of such a place," replied Robin, "though I did not think they believed in its existence." "Why so?" "Because they seemed so little inclined to trust their property in that same storehouse." "You say but too truly; yet it is written 'that charity covereth a multitude of sins.'" "Then that is reason why so many sins are roaming abroad 'naked but not ashamed.' Ah, sir! it is a marvellously scarce commodity that same charity; when Christians spit upon and rail at the poor Jew, they lack charity; when they taunt me with my deformity, they lack charity; when they destroy the web of the spider, that toileth for its bread, and useth what the God of Moses gave it to catch food, they lack charity. Sir, I have walked by the way-side, and I have seen a man tread into the smallest atoms the hill of the industrious ant, and say, it stole the peasant's corn; and yet I have known that same man make long prayers and devour widows' houses. I have watched the small singing-bird, trolling its sweet song on the bough of some wild cherry-tree, and a man, whose hair was combed over his brow, whose step was slow, whose eyes appeared to seek commune with Heaven, killed that bird, and then devoured all the cherries. A little of that red fruit would have served the singing-bird for the length of a long summer's day, and it could have sung to its mate till, when the night came, they sheltered in each other's bosom; yet he, the man with the smooth hair and the holy eye, killed the small bird; but mark ye, sir, he ate the cherries, all, every one. Though I am as one lacking sense, and only a serving Jew, I trow he lacked charity!" "Uncle," whispered the page, creeping up to his ear, "can this man be indeed a Jew? He hath a blue eye and an English tongue; and surely not an Israelitish heart; see that he deceive us not." "My dear boy, peace," said the simple yet learned Doctor; "let the wisdom of this poor child of Israel teach thee to be more humble-minded; for, look ye, who might not profit by his words?" The excellent man would have spoken much more to our friend Robin, who might not inaptly be likened to a dark-lantern, within which is much light, though it is only occasionally given forth; but on the instant Gracious Meanwell summoned him to appear before the Protector. "The Lord deliver me! the Lord deliver me!" muttered Robin, as he followed his conductor past the silken barrier--"The Lord deliver me! for, of a truth, my head is now fairly in the lion's mouth." The room into which he was ushered thus abruptly was hung with ancient tapestry, and furnished after the strangest fashion. Robin had little inclination to examine either its proportions or arrangements, but tremblingly followed until his guide paused with him opposite a long narrow table, at the further end of which, his hand resting upon a pile of books, stood the Protector--Oliver Cromwell. It was impossible to look upon him without feeling that he was a man born to command and to overthrow. His countenance, though swollen and reddish, was marked and powerful, and his presence as lofty and majestic as if he had of right inherited the throne of England. However his enemies might have jested upon his personal appearance, and mocked the ruddiness of his countenance, and the unseemly wart that disfigured his broad, lofty, and projecting brow, they must have all trembled under the thunder of his frown: it was terrific, dark, and scowling, lighted up occasionally by the flashing of his fierce grey eye, but only so as to show its power still the more. His dress consisted of a doublet and vest of black velvet, carefully put on, and of a handsome fashion; a deep collar of the finest linen, embroidered and edged with lace, turned over his vest, and displayed to great advantage his firm and remarkably muscular throat. His hair, which seemed by that light as dark and luxuriant as it had been in his younger age, fell at either side, but was completely combed or pushed off his massive forehead. He looked, in very truth, a most strong man--strong in mind, strong in body, strong in battle, strong in council. There was no weakness about him, except that engendered by a warm imagination acting in concert with the deepest veneration, and which rendered him ever and unhappily prone to superstitious dreamings. When Robin entered, there was no one in the room but the Lord Broghill, Manasseh Ben Israel, and a little girl. My Lord Broghill, who was one of the Protector's cabinet counsellors, had been sent for from Ireland to go to Scotland, and be President of the Council there, but soon wearying of the place, had just returned to London, and posted down immediately to Hampton Court:--he was bidding the Protector good night, and that with much servility. The presence of Robin was yet unnoticed save by the Jew. Before his Lordship had left the chamber, even as his foot was on the threshold, Cromwell called him back. "My Lord Broghill." The cabinet counsellor bowed and returned. "I forgot to mention, there is a great friend of yours in London." "Indeed! Please your Highness, who is it?" "My Lord of Ormond," replied the Protector. "He came to town on Wednesday last, about three of the clock, upon a small grey mule, and wearing a brown but ill-made and shabby doublet. He lodges at White Friars, number--something or other; but you, my Lord," he added, pointedly, "will have no difficulty in finding him out." "I call the Lord to witness," said Broghill, casting up his eyes after the most approved Puritan fashion--"I call the Lord to witness, I know nothing of it!" Cromwell gathered his eyebrows and looked upon him for a moment with a look which made the proud lord tremble; then sending forth a species of hissing noise from between his teeth, sounding like a prolonged hish--h--h--h. "Nevertheless, I think you may as well tell him that I know it. Good night, my Lord, good night!" "He's had his night-cap put on, and now for mine," thought little Robin, who, as he advanced, bowing all the way up the room, could not avoid observing, (even under such circumstances, there was something singularly touching in the fact,) that a little girl, a child of about six or seven years old, sat on a stool at the Protector's feet, her fair arms twined around his knee; and her plain, but expressive face, looking up to his, and watching every movement of his features with more than childish earnestness. As Robin drew near, she stood up, and contemplated him with very natural curiosity. "Closer, young man--still closer," said the Protector; "our sight grows dim; and yet we will see distinctly, and with our own eyes too--for the eyes of others serve us not." Robin did as he was commanded, bowing and shaking all the time like the figure of a mandarin. The Protector advanced one step towards him; and then plucked at the Ranger's beard with so strong a hand, that it deserted his chin, and dangled between Cromwell's fingers. At this, the child set up a loud and merry shout of laughter; but not so did the incident affect the Protector, to whose mind treachery was ever present; he instantly exclaimed,-- "Guards! what ho! without there!" Five or six rushed into the room and laid hands upon Robin, who offered no resistance, submitting to their mercy. "Your Highness has mistaken," said Ben Israel; "there is no treachery in the young man. I have told your Highness how he came to me, and what he knows. Your servant has not spoken words of falsehood, but of truth." "But you did not tell me he was not a Jew: you know him not as I do," was the Protector's reply: "he consorts with----" then suddenly checking himself, he continued, addressing the soldiers: "But search him gently withal--peradventure he has no secret weapons--we would not deal unjustly; but, of late, there has been so much evil intended us by all classes of Malignants, that it behoves us to be careful. Methinks, friend Manasseh, there was no need of this disguise?" "It was to avoid the scandal of my own people, please your Highness, who would marvel to see any other than one of our tribe about my person." The little girl, who was no other than Bridget, a great favourite of Cromwell's, and one of the youngest children of Ireton, the Protector's son-in-law, seemed much amused at the search, and the extraordinary materials it brought to light. There was a whistle, a string of bells, a small black mask, quantities of paint and patches, and various other things; but no arms of any kind, save the small Spanish dagger which Robin so lately exchanged with the sailor at Greenwich. The Protector took this up, examined it attentively, placed it in a small drawer, then briefly dismissed the attendants, and seating himself, apologised to Ben Israel for the delay. "This person will not wonder at it," he continued, looking at Robin; "for he knows what excellent reason I have to believe him an adept in falsehood." "No one ever heard me speak a lie, please your Highness," said Robin, in a hesitating and tremulous voice. "I cannot call to mind your speaking lies; but you are famous for acting them: however, I desire you speak none here." "Please your Highness," returned Robin Hays, regaining his self-possession, "I do not intend it, for it would be useless." "How mean ye?" "Because your Highness can always tell truth from falsehood; and say who is the speaker, no matter how hidden from others." A smile relaxed for a moment the full, firm, but flexible mouth of Oliver Cromwell, at this well-timed compliment to that on which he so much prided himself--his penetration. He then commenced questioning the Ranger upon his knowledge of Sir Willmott Burrell and the Rabbi's daughter. Robin did not in the least degree equivocate; but related every particular as minutely and distinctly as he had done to Ben Israel; not omitting his knowledge that Sir Willmott meditated the destruction of Walter De Guerre. Cromwell listened to the details with much attention; but it was not until this portion of his story was concluded, that, with his usual wiliness, he told the Ranger, that, as it had nothing to do with Manasseh Ben Israel, it need not have been mentioned. The Protector then commanded Sir John Berkstead to his presence, and directed that a troop of horse should be had in immediate readiness, and that, in a few minutes, he would name to Colonel Jones the officer who was to accompany them, and the place of their destination. "And now let us to bed. Will my little Bridget bid her grandfather good night?" and he kissed the child with much tenderness.--"People wonder why I trust thee in my councils; but God hath given thee a soul of truth and a secret tongue; thou growest pale with late sitting, and that must not be." The Protector clasped his hands, and said a few words of prayer over the girl, who knelt at his feet. "Good Manasseh, I would recommend your resting here to-night; you need repose, but I must detain your serving-man. Without there!" An attendant entered. "Conduct this person to----" A whisper told the remainder of the sentence, and Robin was led from the apartment. Very few lingered in the great hall; the pages were sleeping soundly; and, though they encountered Colonel John Jones, he did not recognise Robin, who, despoiled of his beard and black hair, looked so much like the servant of Sir Willmott Burrell, as to be thought such by more than one of the attendants. As he passed through the second court, his guide suddenly turned into a small arched door-way, and directed Robin to proceed up a narrow flight of winding stairs, that appeared to have no termination. Robin once halted for breath, but was obliged to proceed, and at length found himself in a small, cell-like apartment, with a narrow sky-light, opening, as he conjectured, on the palace roof. Here his attendant left him, without so much as "good night," and he had the satisfaction of hearing the key turn within the rusty lock. The mistiness of the night had passed away, and the moon looked down in unclouded majesty upon the courts and turrets of "the House at Hampton." Robin seated himself on his truckle bedstead, upon which merely a rude straw mattress, covered with a blanket, was thrown, and which, for aught he knew, had been occupied by a thousand prisoners before him; but, however bitter and sarcastic his mind might be, it was not given to despond; and he soon began to reflect on what had passed. Although it was not by any means the first time he had been face to face with the Protector, yet it was the first time he had ever seen him with any of the indications of human feeling. "He has made many children fatherless," thought the Ranger, "and yet see how fond he is of that ill-favoured girl, who is the very picture of himself! Poor Walter! Well, I wonder what has been done with him; I had a great mind to ask, but there is something about him, that, were he never a Protector, one would just as soon not make free with." As Robin thought thus, his eyes were fixed on the light and flitting clouds, and he was longing to be free and abroad in the moonbeams, that entered his cell only to smile on his captivity; when some opaque body stood between him and the light, so that he was for a moment almost in darkness. About three minutes after, the same effect occurred; and presently a man's face was placed close to the glass, evidently with the design of seeing into the room. "A-hoy there!" shouted the Ranger. The face was withdrawn, and no answer returned, but immediately afterwards the key grated in the lock, and the Protector himself entered the chamber. CHAPTER XIV. _Grundo._ And what did they there talk about? _Julia._ I'faith, I hardly know, but was advised 'Twas a most cunning parley. _Grundo._ I do well credit it. _Old Play._ "I would rather talk to him in that old tapestried hall," thought Robin, "than in this narrow chamber. There I could have a run for my life; but here, Heaven help me! I am fairly in for it." "The room is passing close, the air is heavy," were the Protector's first words: "follow me to the palace-roof, where there can be no listeners, save the pale stars, and they prate not of man's doings." Robin followed Cromwell up a narrow flight of steps, so narrow that the Protector could hardly climb them. They were terminated by a trap-door leading to the roof; and there these two men, so different in station and in stature, stood together on a species of leaden platform, which by day commands a most beautiful and extensive view of the surrounding country;--at night there was nothing to be seen but the dim outline of the distant hills, and the dark woods that formed the foreground. Scarce a sound was heard, save of the breeze wailing among the many turrets of the proud palace, and now and then the tramp or challenge of the sentries at the different outposts, as they passed to and fro upon their ever-watchful guard. "I believe your real name is Robin Hays?" said the Protector. "Your Highness--it is so." "And you are the son of one Mary or Margery, proprietor of an hostelry, called the Gulls Nest?" "The son of Margery Hays, as your Highness has said, who, God be thanked! still lives in a quiet corner of the Isle of Shepey, and of her good husband Michael, who has now been dead many years." "I take it for granted that you know your own mother; but it is a wise son who knows his own father. Impurities are, praised be the Lord! fast fleeing from the land; but they were rife once, rife as blackberries that grow by the roadside. Yet this is nought; what business brought you here?" "Your Highness knows: I came with the Rabbi Ben Israel." "Parry not with me," exclaimed the readily-irritated Cromwell.--"I repeat, why came ye here?" "Your Highness is acquainted with the reason of my coming." "I _do_ know; but I also choose to know it from yourself. Why came ye here?" "Just then to seek out one who has fallen into your Highness's clutches; with favour, I would say, under your Highness's care," replied Robin, who felt himself not over comfortably situated. "His name sir--his name?" "Walter De Guerre." "And who advised you he was here?" "I found it out; I and another of his friends." "You mean Hugh Dalton?" "I do, please your Highness." "You have some secret communication for this Walter?" "Your Highness, I have not; yet, if he is here, I humbly entreat permission to see him; for, as it is your pleasure that we be detained, I am sure it would be a comfort to him to meet some one who has his interest firmly, humbly at heart." "Why came he to England?" "I believe, that is known only to Hugh Dalton." "Where got ye that Spanish dagger?" "Please your Highness, from a sailor at Greenwich, a pensioner." "You had other business in London than seeking out this Walter?" "Please your Highness, I had." "What was its nature?" "Your Highness must pardon me--I cannot say." Cromwell, during this examination, had walked backward and forward on a portion of the roof, bounded at either end by a double range of turreted chimneys: at the last reply of Robin Hays he suddenly stopped and turned short upon him, paused as if in anger, and then said,-- "Know you to whom you speak? Know you that the Lord hath made me a judge and a ruler in Israel? and yet you dare refuse an answer to my question!" "Your Highness must judge for me in a righteous cause. From infancy I have been cherished by Hugh Dalton: if my lowly mind has become at all superior to the miserable and deformed tenement in which it dwells, I owe it to Hugh Dalton--if I have grown familiar with deeds of blood, still I owe it to Hugh Dalton that I saw deeds of bravery; and to Hugh Dalton I owe the knowledge, that whatever is secret, is sacred." "Honour among thieves, and rogues, and pirates!" exclaimed the Protector, chafed, but not angry. "Your Dalton had a purpose of his own to serve in bringing over this scatter-pate Cavalier, who has too much blood and too little brains for aught but a cock-throw. Young man, I know the doings at your Gull's Nest Crag--I have been advised thereupon. Listen! there has been hardly a malecontent for months in the country who has not there found shelter. Were I inclined to pardon vagabonds, I might bestow the mercy with which the Lord has intrusted me upon poor misguided wretches; but Dalton has been a misguider himself. With my own good steed, and aided by only three on whom I could depend, I traced two of those leagued with Miles Syndercomb to their earth, at the very time when Hugh Dalton was lying in his Fire-fly off the coast.--What waited he for there? That Buccaneer has imported Malignants by dozens, scores, hundreds, into the Commonwealth; and now the reever expects pardon! for I have been solicited thereon. Mark me! the Lord's hand is stretched out, and will not be withdrawn until his nest be turned up, even as the plough uprooteth and scattereth the nest of the field-mouse and the blind mole; and mark yet farther, Robin Hays--there is a book, in which is written the name of every one concerned in those base practices; and opposite to each name is a red cross--a red cross, I say--which signifieth the shedding of blood; and as surely as the stars above us know their secret course along the pathway of the resplendent heavens, so surely shall all those traitors, reevers, buccaneers, upsetters, perish by the Lord's hand--unless it pleaseth the Spirit to infuse its moving power into some of their hearts, so that one or more of them may point the secret entrance into this cavern, where there is great treasure, and whereby blood-shedding and much trouble may be spared. If such an influence was happily exercised--was, I say, happily exercised over the minds or mind of any one of this accursed crew, he might not only be spared, but rewarded with much that the heart of man longeth after." Cromwell paused, and fixed his eyes on the Ranger, who spoke no word, and made no gesture of reply. "Could not such be found?" he continued, addressing Robin more pointedly than before. "A person found, did your Highness ask, who would betray his comrades unto death, and give up his master's property to destruction?" "No, I meant not that: but think ye, is there not one, who, convinced of the wickedness of his past ways, would lead blind Justice on the right track, insomuch that plundered property might be restored to its rightful owners, and the cause of the Lord and his people be forwarded many steps?" "May I speak to your Highness as a man, or as a servant?" inquired Robin. "Even as a man--I am neither a king nor a tyrant." "Then, with all respect, I say that such men may be found; but they would be unworthy pardon, much less reward. May it please your Highness, a Buccaneer is, to my mind, only one who takes advantage of troubled times to secure unto himself the most power and the most property that he can. The sea is as free to him as the land to--to--to any other man. His is no coward's trade, for he risks his all, and is neither an assassin, nor a traitor, nor a rebel, nor a----" "Peace, atom, peace!" interrupted Cromwell; "I did not want to hear your reasons on the legality, and justice, and mercy of the Buccaneer; I only gave you to understand (and I know ye to be quick of comprehension) that I wished for information touching this retreat--this maze--this labyrinth--this embowelling of nature, formed in the cliffs--ay, and that in more than one place, along the Kentish coast--that so I might erase one red cross at the least. Mark ye, knave--your own name is in the list, though I may regret it, seeing that there is a mixture of honest blood in your veins, and a sprinkling of wit in your head, which might lead to some distinction. Worse men than you have risen to high places." "Your Highness mocks me! Wit!--high place! With this mis-shapen body tackled to a world of wit--a place as high as any of those turrets that cut the midnight air, still should I be a thing for men to scorn! Your Highness bitterly mocks me!" "I mock no one; it is ill Christian sport. But at your own pleasure--within the space of fifteen minutes you may go forth from this our house, conduct a chosen few to the Gull's Nest Crag--point out its ways--give us the necessary information as to the other smuggling stations--telegraph the Fire-fly into smooth water, and the next sun will rise on a rich, ay, and a well-favoured gentleman!" "With a damned black heart!" exclaimed Robin, whose faithful spirit beat so warmly in his bosom that he forgot for an instant in whose presence he stood, and gave full vent to his feelings, which doubtless he would not have done had he seen the expression of Cromwell's countenance--that awe-inspiring countenance which had full often sent back the unspoken words from the open lips of bolder men who looked upon him. "With that I have nothing to do," said the Protector calmly, after taking another turn along the platform: "but you mistake the case--it is only justice, simple justice." "My Lord Protector of England," said Robin, whose thin, disproportioned figure, as it moved in the dim light, might have been taken for a dark spirit summoned to some incantation--"My Lord, with you it may be justice: you believe the Buccaneer deals not only in the free trade, but imports persons who endanger your Highness's life and the peace of your protectorate. I believe, from my soul, that he never bore off or brought over one of the Syndercomb gang, or any that had evil intent against your person. There are others who deal in that way; and now, when he is soliciting your mercy, it would speak but little for his wisdom if he went on provoking your vengeance. My Lord, Hugh Dalton has a daughter, and it is to save her name from ever-continuing disgrace, that he pants for honest employment. And may it not offend your Highness, for one so ill-read as myself in aught that is good or godly, to remind you that the Bible somewhere tells of those who were received into pardon and glory at the eleventh hour. As to myself, could your Highness make me what my heart has so panted after, but as vainly as the carrion-crow might seek to be the gallant falcon of the chase--could you give me a well-proportioned figure--make me one who could repel an injury or protect a friend--stretch out this dwarfish body to a proper length--contract these arms, and place the head right well upon a goodly pedestal--then give me wealth--rank--all a man's heart covets in this most covetous world--weigh these advantages against a portion of Hugh Dalton's life;--the scale turns in the air, my Lord--there's nothing in't!" Cromwell folded his arms in silence, while Robin, who had been much excited, wiped the night-dew from his brow, and sighed heavily, as having rid himself of that which weighed upon his conscience. "One word more, young man--those who hear the Protector's wishes, and in some degree can draw conclusions as to his projects--if--mark ye well--if they act not upon them, if they agree not with them, they are seldom of long life." "I understand your Highness." "To your cell----" Overpowered and heart-stricken, for he hoped to have been granted speech of the Cavalier, Robin obeyed the mandate, and the Protector of England passed alone along his palace-roof. "Ever in the ascendant!" he said, casting his eyes on the star of his nativity, that shone brightest among the countless multitudes of night. "High, high, highest, and most powerful," he repeated, gazing upon his favourite planet with that extraordinary mixture of superstition and enthusiasm which formed so prominent a part of his most singular character. "I never saw thee brighter" (he continued) "save upon Naseby-field, when I watched thy pathway in the heavens, while hundreds of devoted soldiers couched around me, waiting the morrow's fight. I prayed beneath thy beam, which, as the Lord permitted, fell right upon my breast, glistening upon the bright and sturdy iron that openly, and in the sight of all men, covered it then--pouring into my heart courage, and confidence into my soul! Would that I might sleep the sleep of death upon that same field, that you might again watch over this poor body which now panteth for repose! Yea, there, under the turf of Naseby, shall my grave be made; there shall I sleep quietly--quietly--quietly--with thee to keep watch above the bed in which this poor body shall be at peace, when the ever-restless spirit is with Him whose right hand led me through the furnace, and made me what I am. Shine on still, bright star, even to the fulness of thy splendour; yea, the fulness of thy splendour, which is not yet come. Ah! well do I remember how you lingered in the grey dawn of morning, eager to behold my glory--my exceeding triumph upon that eventful field; and thou hast seen me greater than I dreamed of, great as I can be--or if I can be greater, to thee all is known, yea, all of the future as well as of the past is known to thee." And as he walked along, and again and again traversed the leaded space, his step was as the step of war and victory; but suddenly it lingered, and came more heavily, and his foot was more slowly raised, and his eyes, that so lately drank in the rays of his own star with so much exultation, fell upon the spot where the little deformed prisoner, even Robin Hays, of the Gull's Nest Crag, was incarcerated. Again he spoke: "Complimented by the subtle Frenchman, feared by the cunning Spaniard, caressed by the temperate Dutch, knelt to by the debased Portuguese, honoured by the bigoted Pope, holding the reins of England--of Europe--of the world, in these hands--the father of many children--have I so true-hearted a friend, as to suffer the scale of his own interests to turn in the air, my life weighing so much the more in the balance? Truly my heart warmed at his fidelity; it is worth all price, yet no price that I can offer will purchase it. In my youth a vision said I should be greatest in this kingdom. Greatest I am, and yet I may be greater; but will a name, the name at which I scorned, increase my power? He from whom I took that name was more beloved than I. Oh, 'tis a fearful game, this game of kingdoms! crowns, ay, and bloody ones, bloody crowns for foot-balls! while treachery, dark, cunning, slippery treachery, stands by with many a mask to mock and foil our finest sporting! God to my aid! Now that success has broken down all opposition, I am in the face, the very teeth of my strongest temptations; forbid, O Lord! that they should conquer me, when I have conquered all things else! God to my aid! One foot upon the very throne from which I--not I alone--praise Heaven for that--not I alone, but many dragged him----!" Again for a brief time he stood with folded arms, his back leaning against a turret; and afterwards his step was quick and agitated, and much he doubtless meditated upon the crown which he well knew a strong party of the parliament would tender for his acceptance; and then he paused and muttered as before. "My children princes! May be wedded to the mightiest! But will they? Stiff-necked and stubborn! There is but one who loves me--only one on whom I doat, and she, like all things loved and lovely, fading from before mine eyes, as the soft mist fades from the brow of some harsh and rugged mountain, which is shrouded, and softened, and fertilised before the proud sun climbed the highest arch of heaven!--Ah! the sentry at the outward gate is sleeping. Let him rest on, poor wretch. I cannot sleep. And there's a light in the apartment of my Lord Broghill: perhaps he writes to his friend Ormond. I had him there; how pale he grew! I have them--know them all! could crush them in this hand; yet God knows I would not; it has had enough to do with that already." And then sobs, sobs that came from the Protector's heart, burst from his lips, and he fell into one of those passions of tears and prayers to which of late he had been often subject. It soon subsided, and the man so extolled and admired by the one party--so abused and vilified by the other--so feared by all--retired in silence and in sorrow to his couch. CHAPTER XV. What is the existence of man's life? It is a weary solitude Which doth short joys, long woes include; The world the stage, the prologue tears, The acts, vain hope and varied fears; The scene shuts up with loss of breath, And leaves no epilogue but death. HENRY KING. "And it's come to this, is it?" exclaimed Solomon Grundy, who sat enthroned like a monarch of good cheer among the beings of his own creation in the buttery at Cecil Place--"And it's come to this, is it? and there's to be no feasting; a wedding-fast in lieu of a wedding-feast! No banquet in the hall--no merry-making in the kitchen! I might have let that poor shrivelled preacher cut into the centre of my pasty, and ravish the heart of my deer; stuffed, as it is, with tomatoes and golden pippins! he might have taken the doves unto his bosom, and carried the frosted antlers on his head; they would have been missed by no one, save thee, Solomon Grundy. And those larded fowl! that look like things of snow and not of flesh; even my wife praised them, and said,--'Grundy,' said she--'Solomon, my spouse,' said she, 'you have outdone yourself:'--that _was_ praise. But what signifies praise to me now? My master wo'n't eat--my mistress wo'n't eat--Barbara, she wo'n't eat! I offered her a pigeon-pie; she said, 'No, I thank ye, Solomon,' and passed away. That I should ever live to see any one pass away from a pigeon-pie of my making! Sir Willmott Burrell, he wo'n't eat, but calls for wine and strong waters in his dressing-room: it's a queer bridal! Ah! there's one of the Lady Cromwell's women, perhaps she will eat; it is heart-breaking to think that such food as this"--and he cast his eye over a huge assemblage of sundries, that "Coldly furnish'd forth the marriage tables"-- "such food as this should be consumed by vulgar brutes, who would better relish a baron of beef and a measure of double-dub, than a trussed turkey and a flagon of canary." Solomon, however, succeeded in prevailing upon Mistress Maud to enter, and then had but little difficulty in forcing upon her some of the confections, though all his efforts could not extort a compliment to his culinary accomplishments. "They are wonderful, considering they are country made," she said, after discussing a third tartlet; "but there must be great allowance for your want of skill; and you ought to esteem yourself fortunate (I'll take another jelly) that there is to be no banquet; for--though it is evil to give one's mind to fleshly tastes or creature comforts--these things would hardly be deemed fit for a second-table wedding at Whitehall!" Solomon was deeply mortified. He had great veneration for court, but he had greater for his own talent, and he loved not to hear it called in question: he therefore scanned the waiting-maid after his peculiar mode, and then drawing himself up, stroked his chin, and replied, "That great men had sat at his master's table, and had, he was well assured, praised his skill in words which could not be repeated--that Lady Frances herself had condescended to ask his method of blanching almonds, and lauded his white chicken soup; and that he should not dread being commanded to serve a banquet unto the Lord Protector himself." Mistress Maud sneered, and examined a third jelly, which she was reluctantly compelled to quit by a summons from her lady. "What robe would your ladyship desire?" she inquired of Lady Frances, whose eyes were red with weeping, and who appeared astonishingly careless upon a point that usually occupied much of her attention. "Would your ladyship like the white and silver, with the pearl loopings and diamond stomacher?" "What need to trouble me as to the robe?" at length she replied with an irritability of manner to which she too often yielded. "Why do I entertain two lazy hussies, but to see after my robings, and save me the trouble of thinking thereon?--Go to!--you have no brain." Maud and her assistant laid out the dress and the jewels, yet Lady Frances was ill satisfied. "Said I not that the stomacher needed lengthening?--The point is not a point, but a round!--Saw one ever the like?--It is as square as a dove's tail, instead of tapering off like a parroquet's!" "Did your ladyship mean," said the elder of the bewildered girls, "that the stomacher was square or round?" She perfectly agreed with her mistress in thinking a stomacher a matter of great importance, but was most sadly perplexed that Lady Frances should so markedly object to that which she had so warmly praised on a former occasion. "Square or round!" repeated Lady Frances impetuously--"neither:--it is to be peaked--thus!" The poor maid, in her eagerness to hold the stomacher for her lady's inspection, let it fall--the principal jewel-band caught in a hook, and was scattered in fragments upon the ground. This was more than Lady Frances could bear, and she turned both women out of the room, commanding them to send Barbara in their stead. The little Puritan had been weeping plentifully, but when she came, Lady Frances appeared to have forgotten her wrath, and greeted her with much gentleness. "Your mistress, my pretty maid--is she dressed?" "No, my lady." "See what havoc these girls have wrought with my stomacher! Pick me up the jewels, Barbara, if your mistress can spare you such brief time." "I was not with her, my lady: she said she would call when I was wanted. I can hear her in this chamber." While Barbara was gathering the jewels, her tears fell fast upon them. Lady Frances observed it, and smiling said,-- "You are gemming my ornaments, setting them in crystal instead of gold." "I can't help my tears, dear lady, when I think how she weeps. Oh, it is a mournful thing to see an oak bend like a willow, or a stately rose low as a little wild flower! Something has crushed her heart, and I cannot help her. I would lay down my life to make her happy, if I knew but how! The very dogs hang their tails, and steal across the rooms they used to gambol in! Ah, madam, she has wealth, and rank, and all that a poor girl would call great glory. Yet her step is like the step of an aged woman, and her head is bent, though not with the weight of years. I think of a little poem I knew when I was a child. I believe I heard it before I could speak the words thereof, yet it is so perfect on my mind. Did you ever hear it, madam? it is called 'The Lady of Castile.'" "Never; but I should like to hear it, Barbara, while you hook on the diamonds those careless minxes scattered so heedlessly. What tune is it to?" "I know not the tune, madam; nor could I sing it now if I did. I often wonder how the birds can sing when they lose their mates; though their notes are not, as at other times, cheery; and no wonder. It's very cruel to kill poor innocent birds." "Let me hear the ballad, Barbara." "I fear me, it has gone out of my head; but, madam, it began thus, something after a popish fashion; but no harm, no great harm in it:-- "'The lady was of noble birth, And fairest in Castile, And many suitors came to her----' And many suitors came to her," repeated Barbara. "I forget the last line, but it ended with 'feel.' I am sorry, madam, that I have lost the words, quite lost them to-day, though I could have said them all yesterday. But the lady had many sweethearts, as my lady had, and like my lady sent them all away; only she was over nice. And she made up her mind at last to marry one whose name was ill thought of, and her wedding day was fixed; and the night before, as she was sleeping, who should visit her (it is here comes the Popery) but the Virgin? And the Virgin gave her her hand, and led her to a beautiful grove; and this grove was filled with the most beautiful birds in the world; and the Virgin said to her, take any one of these birds that you choose, and keep it as your own; and you may walk to the end of the grove and take any one you meet; but you must choose it before you come back, and not come back without one; you must not have the power to take one after you begin to return. And the bird you take will be lord of your estates, and of yourself, and the eyes of all Castile will be upon him. And the lady was very beautiful, as beautiful as my lady, only not good or well-taught like her. If she had been, she would not have believed in the Virgin. So the lady walked on and on, and the sweet birds were singing to her, and courting her, and striving to win her favour all the way. They were such birds as I never heard of but in that song--with diamond eyes, and ruby wings, and feet of pearl; but she found some fault with every one she met, and fancied she might find a better before her walk was done. And, behold! at last she got to the end of the grove without having made any choice; and what think you, my lady, sat there? why a black vulture, a wicked, deceitful, cruel bird. And she was forced to take him. She had passed by many good and beautiful, and their sweet songs still sounded in her ears; yet she was forced to take that hideous and cruel bird. Only think, my lady, how horrid! The poor lady of Castile awoke, and began thinking what the dream could mean; and after praying awhile, she remembered how much she wished in her sleep that she had taken the first bird she saw. And it brought back to her mind the companion of her youth, who had loved her long, and she likened this gallant gentleman to the sweet bird of her dream. So she put away him whose name was ill thought of, and wedded the knight who had loved her long. And so the song finishes with "'Happy lady of Castile!'" "And a good ending too," said Lady Frances; "I wish our wedding was likely to terminate so favourably." "Amen to that prayer!" said Barbara, earnestly, and added, shuddering as she spoke, "It is very odd, madam, but one of your ladies, who was arraying the communion-table, scared away a great toad, whose bloated sides were leaning on the step, and, she says, on the very spot where Sir Willmott Burrell must kneel to-night.--Hush! that was his door which shut at the end of the corridor--the very sound of his foot-fall makes me shudder--the Lord preserve us! It is astonishing, my lady, the wisdom of some dumb animals: Crisp can't bear the sight of him; but Crisp is very knowledgeable!" "There will be another miserable match," thought Lady Frances; "that pretty modest creature will sacrifice herself to that deformed piece of nature's workmanship; even his nasty cur, long-backed and bandy, shares her favour: I will beg her of Constantia, take her to court, and get her a proper husband.--Crisp is an ill-favoured puppy, Barbara," she said aloud, "and the sooner you get rid of him the better. You must come to court with me, and be one of my bower-girls for a season; it will polish you, and cure your Shepey prejudices. I shall ask Mistress Cecil to let you come." Barbara thought first of Robin, then of her father; and was about to speak of the latter, when she remembered her promise of secrecy. "Thank your ladyship; a poor girl, like me had better remain where--where--she is likely to bide. A field-mouse cannot climb a tree like a gay squirrel, my lady, though the poor thing is as happy on the earth as the fine squirrel among the branches, and, mayhap, a deal safer: and as to Crisp! beauty is deceitful--but honesty is a thing to lean upon--the creature's heart is one great lump of faithfulness." "You must get a courtly husband, Barbara." "Your ladyship jests; and so would a courtly husband, at one like me. Mayhap I may never live to marry; but if I did, I should not like my husband to be ashamed of me.--The jewels are all on, my lady!" "Should you not like to be as my maidens are?" "Thank you, madam, no: for they have too little to do, and that begets sorrow. Were my lady happy, and--and---- But that is my lady's call. Shall I send your women, madam?" "I have often thought and often said," murmured Lady Frances, as Barbara meekly closed the door, "that nothing is so perplexing to the worldly as straight forward honesty and truth. It is not to be intimidated, nor bribed nor flattered, nor destroyed--not destroyed even by death. I would give half my dowry--alas! do _I_ talk of dowry?--great as my father is, he may be low as others, who have been as great. And now I must accompany my sweet friend to the altar on which she is to be sacrificed. Alas! better would be for her if death were to meet and claim her upon the threshold of the chapel she is about to enter!" CHAPTER XVI. Nought is there under heaven's wide hollownesse That moves more dear compassion of mind, Than beautie brought t'unworthie wretchednesse Through envious snares or fortune's freaks unkinde. * * * * * * * To think how causeless of her own accord This gentle damzell, whom I write upon, Should plonged be in such affliction, Without all hope of comfort or reliefe. SPENSER. "I am driven to it, I am driven to it!" repeated Sir Willmott Burrell, as he attired himself in his gayest robes, while his eyes wandered restlessly over the dial of a small clock that stood upon the dressing-table. "No one has seen her--and I have forced Constantia to wed at six, instead of seven. Once wed--why, there's an end of it; and if the worst should come, and Zillah persecutes me still, I can but swear her mad, and this will terminate her fitful fever." He placed a small pistol within his embroidered dress, and girded his jewelled sword more tightly than before. "The minutes linger more tardily than ever," he continued: "full fifteen to the time.--Would it were over! I am certain Cromwell would not interfere, if once she was my wife; he loves her honour better than the Jew's." Again he drew forth the pistol and examined it, and then replaced it as before--again girded his sword; and having drunk copiously of some ardent spirit, a flask of which had been placed near him, he descended to the library. The only person in the apartment was Sir Robert Cecil: he was leaning, in the very attitude in which we first met him, against the high and dark chimney-piece of marble; but, oh, how altered! His hand trembled with emotion as he held it to Sir Willmott, who took it with that air of easy politeness and cordiality of manner he could so well assume. "The hour is nearly arrived," said the old man, "and you will become the husband of my only child. Treat her kindly--oh, as you ever hope to have children of your own, treat her kindly: be to her what I ought to have been--a protector! Sir Willmott, I cannot live very long; say only that you will treat her kindly. Whatever I have shall be yours: you will be kind, will you not?" And he looked at Sir Willmott with an air of such perfect childishness, that the knight imagined his mind had given way. "Sit down, my good sir; compose yourself--you are much agitated--I pray you be composed." "Broad lands are a great temptation," continued Sir Robert, with the same appearance of wavering intellect--"Broad lands and gold are great temptations, and yet they do not make one happy. Stoop your head--closer--closer--there:--now I will tell you a secret, but you must not tell it to Constantia, because it would give her pain--I have never been happy since I possessed them! Stop, I will tell you all, from beginning to end. My brother, Sir Herbert--I was not Sir Robert then--my brother, I say----" "Some other time, my dear sir," interrupted Burrell, whose apprehension was confirmed; "you must cheer up, and not think of these matters: you must take some wine." He filled a goblet from a silver flagon that stood with refreshments on the table; but the baronet's hand was so unsteady, that Sir Willmott was obliged to hold the cup to his lips. "Now, my dear sir, collect your thoughts; you know all things are safe and secret: there is no possibility of your ever being otherwise than beloved and respected." "Not by my child," said the unhappy man two or three times, twisting his hands convulsively--"Not by my child, my pride, my Constantia! Her kiss is as cold as ice upon my brow; and I thought--perhaps 'twas but a dream, for I have been sleeping a little--I thought she wiped her lips after she kissed me. Do you think she would destroy the taste of her father's kiss?" "Most certainly not: she loves you as well and as dearly as ever." "I cannot believe it, Sir Willmott, I cannot believe it;--besides, there's no safety for me till Hugh Dalton's pardon is granted." "Damn him!" growled Burrell, and the curse grated through his closed teeth--"Damn him, deeply, doubly, everlastingly!" "Ay, so he will be damned," replied Sir Robert, in a calm, quiet tone, "and we shall all be damned, except Constantia; but he must be pardoned--on earth I mean--for all that." Burrell looked daggers at Sir Robert Cecil, but he heeded them not, saw them not. Sir Willmott's first suspicion was right--the injured were avenged! The unhappy man retained his memory, though his words and actions were no longer under the control of reason: his conscience lived on--his intellect had expired. "It is even so," thought Sir Willmott the next moment: "and now, Constantia, despite your scorn, your hatred, your contempt, I do pity you." Burrell understood not how superior was Constance in every respect, either to his pity or his praise. Exactly as the clock struck six, the doors at the bottom of the room were thrown open, and Lady Frances Cromwell entered with her friend; Barbara and the waiting-maidens of Lady Frances followed; but nothing could exceed Burrell's displeasure and mortification, when he perceived that his bride was habited in the deepest mourning. Her hair, braided from her brow, hung in long and luxuriant tresses down her back, and were only confined by a fillet of jet. Upon her head was a veil of black gauze, that fell over her entire figure; and her dress was of black Lucca silk, hemmed and bordered with crape. She advanced steadily to her father, without noticing her bridegroom, and, throwing up her veil, said, in a low voice,-- "Father, I am ready." Burrell, who feared that even in the very brief space which now remained, Sir Robert would betray the weakness of his mind, stepped forward, and would have taken her hand; but she put him from her, with a single gesture, saying,-- "Not yet, sir, I am still _all_ my father's.--Father, I am ready." It was pitiable to see the vacant eye which Sir Robert fixed upon her pale, fine face, and most painful to observe the look of anxious inquiry with which she regarded him. "Dear father," she exclaimed at length, sinking on her knees, "dear father, speak to me." The gesture and the voice recalled him for a little to himself. He kissed her cheek affectionately, and, rising with much of the dignity of former years, pressed her to his bosom. "Forgive me, child;--my Lady Frances, I crave your pardon--I am myself again--I was a trifle indisposed, but it is over. Fill me some wine," he commanded to the attendants, who gathered in the doorway--"Yes--up--full--more full; I drink--" he continued, with a gaiety of manner suiting ill with his grey hairs and pallid face--"I drink to the happiness and prosperity of my daughter and her bridegroom!" He quaffed to the bottom of the cup, then flung it from him. "Now go we to the bridal," he said, leading Constantia forward, while Sir Willmott conducted Lady Frances, who hardly condescended to touch the hand he presented to her. As they passed an open court, leading to the little chapel, Sir Robert stopped abruptly, and addressing his daughter, said,-- "But I have not blessed you yet; you would not like to die without my blessing." "Die, my father!" repeated Constance. "I pray your pardon, child," he replied, in a half muttering, half speaking voice--"I was thinking of your mother: but now I quite remember me, this is a bridal," and he hurried her forward to the altar where the clergyman stood ready to receive them. "Sir Willmott Burrell," said Constantia to the knight, as he placed himself at her side, "my father is ill, and I cannot think upon what his malady may be with any thing like calmness; if what I dread is true, you will not force me from him." "Let the ceremony proceed, and, villain as I know you think me, I will not oppose any plan you may form for him," was Burrell's reply. Lady Frances stood close beside her friend; and Barbara, in her white robes and simple beauty, headed the group of servants who crowded round the steps. The clergyman commenced the service according to the form of the Established Church, and concluded the opening address without any interruption. He then proceeded to the solemn and beautiful appeal made as to the liberty of those who present themselves at the altar. "I require and charge you both, (as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed,) that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not lawfully be joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it?" At this point Sir Robert Cecil, his enfeebled mind still more relaxed after the strong effort made at self-possession, and weakened and heated by the wine he had taken, exclaimed,-- "Those two joined together in matrimony! It is impossible--she has not on a wedding-garment! What does she here?" Then looking round, he left his daughter's side, and seizing Barbara's hand, dragged her to the altar, saying, "This must be our bride--our lady bride--no one would wed in sables." It is impossible to describe the consternation which this circumstance occasioned; but the baronet had hardly uttered the words, when the window that Barbara had taken so much pains in adorning, was darkened by a figure springing into and standing on the open casement, and the shrill voice of the Jewess Zillah shouted, in a tone that was heard most audibly over the murmurs of the little crowd, and echoed fearfully along the chancel, "Justice--vengeance!" and, suiting the action to her words, she discharged a pistol with but too steady an aim at the innocent Barbara, whom on this occasion, as before, she had mistaken for her rival, Constantia Cecil. END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. VOLUME THE THIRD. CHAPTER I. Behold! What blessings ancient prophesie foretold, Bestow'd on her in death. She past away So sweetly from the world, as if her clay Laid onely downe to slumber. Then forbeare To let on her blest ashes fall a teare. But, if th'art too much woman, softly weepe Lest grief disturbe the silence of her sleepe. HABINGTON. Barbara, the young, the beautiful, the innocent Barbara, fell, as the bullet struck her, upon the arm of the imbecile Sir Robert Cecil. It is impossible adequately to describe the scene that followed. Constantia caught the maiden from her father, who shrank at the sight of blood, and drew himself gradually away, like a terrified child from a frightful object, while his daughter, kneeling, supported the stricken girl upon her bosom. After the deed was done, the Jewess stood for a moment with an air of exultation upon the ledge of the oriel window, and then disappeared; but Sir Willmott, who saw that the time was come when, if ever, his prey was to be secured, rushed to the open door, with a view to seize her as she descended, and at once rid himself of all danger by her destruction. At the instant his evil purpose was about to be accomplished, his course was arrested, as he reached the postern, by a powerful arm, which grappled at his throat. The stentorian voice of Dalton shouted "Villain!" so loudly, that many, who had crowded round the dying Barbara, turned in alarm to ascertain who spoke. "Hinder me not," said Sir Willmott, gasping for breath, "but help me to secure the murderer--the girl is slain!" "God of Heaven!--what girl?--Who was it fired?" exclaimed the Skipper.--"What means this?" he continued, relaxing his grasp, and advancing up the chancel with a beating heart and a rapid step. Burrell took advantage of the momentary reprieve, and was hastily proceeding round to the window, when the tramp of many horses came upon his ear. The steel caps and polished blades of a detachment of Cromwell's own Ironsides glittered amid the ruins and trees that surrounded the chapel, and his progress was again stayed by no other than Colonel John Jones. "Sir Willmott Burrell," said the Puritan soldier, in a slow and deliberate tone, "his Highness commands your immediate presence at the house of Hampton, profanely denominated Hampton Court; and I have his Highness's commands also to prevent the taking place of any union between you and Mistress Constantia Cecil." "It has taken place," interrupted Burrell, turning pale, and trembling. "It has _not_ taken place," interrupted in her turn Lady Frances, whose habitual and active kindness had prompted her to seek assistance for Barbara, so that she encountered the troop under the command of her step-uncle--"I say it has not taken place--half a ceremony is no marriage. But have you any with you skilled in surgery? for here has been a most foul murder: come with me into the chapel, and behold!" Lady Frances returned, followed by Colonel Jones, Sir Willmott as a prisoner, and the greater number of the soldiery. Constantia Cecil, still kneeling, supported Barbara, whose life was ebbing fast, as the blood trickled from a small wound, where the ball had entered a little above her right shoulder. Her eyes, gentle and expressive as ever, were fixed upon her father, who stood speechless and powerless by her side. The women gathered, weeping, around. The good clergyman approached to offer spiritual consolation to the departing girl. Hugh Dalton had heard the story of the fatal act repeated by at least a dozen persons, who were ignorant that they spoke in the presence of the poor maiden's parent; but he heeded not their words; he did not even ask how or by whom the dreadful deed was done. Enough to him was the certainty that his daughter was dying, dying before him--that she, to whom his heart had clung through evil report and good report, in sorrow and in sin, but always with confidence and hope, as the star that would at length guide him into a haven of peace and joy, which had been rapidly growing out of repentance; that she, his only, his beloved, his most excellent, and most unspotted child, would, within an hour, become as the clay on which he trod--that her mild, cheerful, and patient spirit, was passing to the God who gave it--unrepiningly passing; for no groan, no murmur came from her lips--lips that had never been stained by deceit or falsehood. Still her eyes rested on her parent, and once she endeavoured to stretch forth her weak arms towards him, but they fell powerless at her side; while he, still mute and motionless as a statue, seemed rooted to the earth. The clergyman spoke a few words of an approaching eternity. It was only then the Buccaneer replied; without a tear, without a sob; or any outward demonstration of sorrow: though all who heard him felt that the words came from a man whose sole sensation was despair. "No need, sir, to speak so to her. She knows about these things far more than we do. Hush! for the sake of God, and let me hear her breathing." "Some ten of you look out for the murderer," commanded the stern voice of Colonel Jones, who had by this time received the whole account from the Lady Frances. "You will not be able to find her," exclaimed the alarmed Burrell, dreading that, if she were secured, she might communicate the secret she still retained. "You will not, I assure you, be able to find her," he repeated, as the sturdy soldiers prepared to obey their officer's command. "You know the person, then, Sir Willmott," said Colonel Jones, coldly. Burrell looked abashed. "Mistress Constantia will, I hope, forgive me," added the rough soldier, walking towards the steps of the altar, where the lady of Cecil Place still supported the fading form of the poor faithful maiden she had so truly loved--"Mistress Constantia will forgive one of her father's oldest friends for thus breaking in upon and disturbing a most solemn ceremony. His Highness has commanded her bridegroom to be brought before him, and the marriage to be stayed, inasmuch as he charges Sir Willmott Burrell with being already wedded!" The maiden to whom he spoke looked up, and gazed into the countenance of the speaker; but it would have been difficult to determine the nature of her feelings, save by the cold shudder that seemed to pass over her whole frame. On Sir Robert Cecil the information made no impression, for he understood it not, though he smiled and bowed several times to his old companion in arms. But the Buccaneer started, roused for a moment from the one absorbing sorrow of his whole soul, but still heedless of the danger he encountered in thus standing face to face with a troop of the hardiest soldiers of the Commonwealth. Turning eagerly towards their officer, he exclaimed,-- "Ha! it is known!--then the papers were received." "Traitor! double traitor! I have ye now!" shouted Burrell, presenting his pistol at the head of the Buccaneer. Instantly Barbara, as with a last effort, sprang from the arms of the Lady Cecil, and threw herself on her father's bosom. The effort was not needed, for the weapon was snatched from the villain's hand. He had now to encounter the reproof of Colonel Jones. "Sir Willmott, I thought I could have taken your word, that you had no arms except your sword. I was mistaken." "That fellow is the famous Buccaneer, Hugh Dalton, upon whose head a price is set. Arrest him, Colonel Jones!" exclaimed Burrell, skilfully turning the attention from himself to the Skipper, who stood embracing the lifeless form of his daughter--gazing upon eyes that were now closed, and upon lips parted no longer by the soft breath of as sweet a maiden as ever was born of woman. "Are you the Malignant of whom he speaks?" inquired the stern colonel. "He is the unhappy father of that murdered girl," interposed Constantia. "Whoever refuses to seize him deserves a traitor's death," reiterated Sir Willmott. The troopers stood with their hands on their swords, awaiting their officer's commands. The Buccaneer turned fiercely round, still pressing his child to his bosom with one arm, and holding a pistol within the other hand. "I am," he said in a bold and fearless, but not an arrogant tone, "I am he whom that accursed villain names. But ye had better not rouse a desperate man. Dare not to touch me; at your peril stay my course. Colonel Jones, tell the Protector of England, that Hugh Dalton craves no pardon now. This, this was my hope--my pride; for her I would have been honest, and well thought of! Behold! she stiffens on my arm. She is nothing now but clay! Yet, by the God that made her! no churlish earth shall sully this fair form. She was as pure as the blue sea that cradled her first months of infancy; and, mark ye, when the rays of the young sun rest upon the ocean, at the morning-watch, by my own ship's side, in the bosom of the calm waters, shall she find a grave. I will no more trouble England--no more--no more! Gold may come dancing on the waves, even to my vessel's prow, I will not touch it. Cromwell may take me if he will, but not till I perform for my good and gentle child the only rite that ever she demanded from me." Even as the tiger-mother passes through an Indian crowd, bearing the cherished offspring of her fierce but affectionate nature, which some stray arrow has destroyed--terrible in her anguish and awful in her despair--her foes appalled at her sufferings and the bravery of her spirit, though still panting for her destruction--their arrows are on the string--yet the untaught, but secret and powerful respect for the great source of our good as well as of our evil passions--Nature--works within them, and she passes on, unmolested, to her lair:--even so did Dalton pass along, carrying his daughter, as she were a sleeping infant, through the armed warriors, who made way, as if unconscious of what they did;--some, who were themselves fathers, pressed their mailed fingers on their eyes, while others touched their helmets, and raised them a little from their brows. "Colonel Jones," exclaimed the enraged Burrell, "you will have to answer for this to a high power. The Protector would give its weight in gold for the head of that man; and the weight of that again for a knowledge of his haunts." "Sir Willmott," was the soldier's reply, who, now that Dalton was really gone, began to fear he had done wrong in permitting his escape, and therefore resolved to brave it haughtily, "I can answer for my own actions. Methinks you are cold and hot as best serves your purpose!" Then turning abruptly from him, he added, "We will but intrude upon the hospitality of this mourning bride," glancing at Constantia's dress, and smiling grimly, "until some tidings be obtained of the person who has perpetrated this horrid murder; and having refreshed our horses, return forthwith; for his Highness is impatient of delay, and 'tis good fifty miles to London. Our orders were, Sir Willmott, that you hold no communion with any; so that, if you have aught to say to Mistress Cecil, it must be said at once." "I can only offer my protestations against this tyrannical--ay, sir, I speak boldly, and repeat it--this tyrannical mandate--and assure the fair dame that I consider her my lawful wife." Constantia made no reply. Colonel Jones then gave the Lady Frances a slip of paper from the Protector, which merely stated that he thought she ought to remain with her friend, until the mysterious rumour was either cleared up or confirmed. Lady Frances right joyfully assented; and Constantia, overpowered by a multitude of contending feelings, led the way with her father, who seemed as passive and as uninterested in the events of that most eventful hour, as if he were a child of a twelvemonth old. The soldiers who had been sent to reconnoitre soon returned, for night was closing upon them, and they had searched the ruins of Minster, and galloped over the wild hills of Shepey, without being able to trace the misguided Jewess. Colonel Jones could, therefore, do nothing more than advise Sir Michael Livesey (the sheriff, who resided, as we have stated, at Little Shurland) of the circumstance that had occurred, and send off to King's Ferry, Sheerness, Queenborough, and all the little hamlets along the coast, information of the melancholy event, with orders to prevent any stranger, male or female, from quitting the island, until his Highness's future pleasure was known. The murder of Lady Cecil's favourite was calculated to excite strong feelings among all classes; for the poor had long considered the residence of so good a family on their island as a blessing from Heaven; more particularly, as the former possessor, Sir Herbert, Sir Robert's elder brother, only lived at Cecil Place occasionally, being of too gay, too cavalier a temperament, to bide long in so solitary a dwelling. He had been warmly attached to the house of Stuart; and while his younger brother sought, and made friends of the Parliamentarian faction, he remained steady in his loyalty, and firm in his attachment to the unfortunate and unpopular Charles. Upon this topic we may hereafter treat: at present, we have to do with the living, not the dead. We cannot now intrude upon the privacy of either Lady Frances or Constantia; we must content ourselves with simply stating that Colonel Jones took his departure, leaving, at Lady Frances's request, a guard of six soldiers at Cecil Place--a precaution he felt justified in adopting when he had taken late events into consideration, and was made acquainted with the miserable condition of Sir Robert's mind, to whom also he undertook to send immediate medical advice. The servants, particularly Lady Frances's women, assembled in the great hall, and with many tears, real and unfeigned tears, lamented the loss of poor Barbara--talked of the mystery of her birth, and the sudden and almost supernatural appearance of her father. Greatly did they blame themselves for permitting him to remove the body, "not knowing," as they said, "but he would give it heathenish and not Christian burial." After a little while they conversed upon the malady that had overtaken their master, and then hints and old tales were thought of, and almost forgotten rumours of Sir Herbert and his revelries repeated; and as the lamps burned still more dim, and the embers of the fire dropped one by one into that grey and blue dust that heralds their perfect decay, the legends of the isle were rehearsed--How Sir Robert de Shurland, a great knight and a powerful thane, being angry with a priest, buried him alive in Minster churchyard; and then, fearing the king's displeasure, and knowing he was at the Nore, swam on a most faithful horse to his majesty from the island, to crave pardon for his sin; and the king pardoned him; and then, right joyfully, he swam back to the land, where, on his dismounting, he was accosted by a foul witch, who prophesied that the horse which had saved him should be the cause of his death; but, in order to prevent the accomplishment of the prophecy, he slew the faithful animal upon the beach;--how that some time afterwards he passed by the carcass, and striking a bone with his foot, it entered the flesh, which mortified, and the tyrant died; in testimony whereof the tomb stands in Minster church until this day, in the south wall, under a pointed arch, where he lies, leaning on his shield and banner, and at his feet a page, while behind him is carved the horse's head that caused his death:--and, moreover, how his spirit is seen frequently leaping from turret to turret of the house of Great Shurland, pursued by a phantom steed! Of such like legends did they talk. Then they thanked God that their lady was not likely to be Sir Willmott's wife, and spoke of Dalton and his daring, and many of the old servants shuddered. Then again they reverted to Barbara, and the women crept more closely together, like a flock of frightened sheep, when one older than the others affirmed that no true maid could ever rest in the ocean's bed, unless a Bible were slung about her neck; and as Dalton, of course, had no Bible, their beloved Barbara could have no rest, but must wander to all eternity on the foam of the white waves, or among the coral-rocks that pave the southern seas, or sigh in the shrouds of a doomed ship. But again, some other said, as she was so pure a Christian, perhaps that would save her from such a fate; and one of the soldiers who sat with them reproved their folly, and lectured, and prayed for their edification, with much zeal and godliness; and when he had concluded, the thought came upon them that the Reverend Jonas Fleetword had not been there since the earliest morning, when somebody declared he was seen talking with Sir Willmott Burrell near the Gull's Nest, and fear for the preacher came over them all--why, they could not tell. CHAPTER II. Poesy! thou sweet'st content That e'er Heaven to mortals lent, Though they as a trifle leave thee Whose dull thoughts cannot conceive thee; Though thou be to them a scorn That to nought but earth are born; Let my life no longer be Than I am in love with thee. GEORGE WITHER. There are two things that to a marvellous degree bring people under subjection--moral and corporeal fear. The most dissolute are held in restraint by the influence of moral worth, and there are few who would engage in a quarrel, if they were certain that defeat or death would be the consequence. Cromwell obtained, and we may add, maintained his ascendency over the people of England, by his earnest and continually directed efforts towards these two important ends. His court was a rare example of irreproachable conduct, from which all debauchery and immorality were banished; while such was his deep and intimate, though mysterious, acquaintance with every occurrence throughout the Commonwealth, its subjects had the certainty of knowing that, sooner or later, whatever crimes they committed would of a surety reach the ear of the Protector. His natural abilities must always have been of the highest order, though in the early part of his career he discovered none of those extraordinary talents that afterwards gained him so much applause, and worked so upon the affections of the hearers and standers by. His mind may be compared to one of those valuable manuscripts that had long been rolled up and kept hidden from vulgar eyes, but which exhibits some new proof of wisdom at each unfolding. It has been well said by a philosopher, whose equal the world has not known since his day, "that a place showeth the man." Of a certainty Cromwell had no sooner possessed the opportunity so to do, than he showed to the whole world that he was destined to govern. "Some men achieve greatness, some men are born to greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." With Cromwell, greatness was achieved. He was the architect of his own fortunes, owing little to, what is called, "chance," less to patronage, and still less to crime, if we except the one sad blot upon the page of his own history, as connected with that of his country. There appears in his character but a small portion of that which is evil, blended with much that is undoubtedly good. Although his public speeches were, for the most part, ambiguous--leaving others to pick out his meaning--or more frequently still, having no meaning to pick out--being words, words, words--strung of mouldy sentences, scriptural phrases, foolish exclamations, and such like; yet, when necessary, he showed that he could sufficiently command his style, delivering himself with so much energy, pith, propriety, and strength of expression, that it was commonly said of him, under such circumstances, "every word he spoke was a thing." But the strongest indication of his vast abilities was, the extraordinary tact with which he entered into, dissected, and scrutinised the nature of human kind. No man ever dived into the manners and minds of those around him with greater penetration, or more rapidly discovered their natural talents and tempers. If he chanced to hear of a person fit for his purpose, whether as a minister, a soldier, an artisan, a preacher, or a spy--no matter how previously obscure--he sent for him forthwith, and employed him in the way in which he could be made most useful, and answer best the purpose of his employer. Upon this most admirable system (a system in which, unhappily, he has had but few imitators among modern statesmen,) depended in a great degree his success. His devotion has been sneered at; but it has never been proved to have been insincere. With how much more show of justice may we consider it to have been founded upon a solid and upright basis, when we recollect that his whole outward deportment spoke its truth. Those who decry him as a fanatic ought to bethink themselves that _religion was the chivalry of the age in which he lived_. Had Cromwell been born a few centuries earlier, he would have headed the Crusades, with as much bravery, and far better results than our noble-hearted, but wrong-headed "Coeur de Lion." It was no great compliment that was passed on him by the French minister, when he called the Protector "the first captain of the age." His courage and conduct in the field were undoubtedly admirable: he had a dignity of soul which the greatest dangers and difficulties rather animated than discouraged, and his discipline and government of the army, in all respects, was the wonder of the world. It was no diminution of this part of his character that he was wary in his conduct, and that, after he was declared Protector, he wore a coat-of-mail concealed beneath his dress. Less caution than he made use of, in the place he held, and surrounded as he was by secret and open enemies, would have deserved the name of negligence. As to his political sincerity, which many think had nothing to do with his religious opinions, he was, to the full, as honest as the first or second Charles. Of a truth, that same sincerity, it would appear, is no kingly virtue! Cromwell loved justice as he loved his own life, and wherever he was compelled to be arbitrary, it was only where his authority was controverted, which, as things then were, it was not only right to establish for his own sake, but for the peace and security of the country over whose proud destinies he had been called to govern. "The dignity of the crown," to quote his own words, "was upon the account of the nation, of which the king was only the representative head, and therefore, the nation being still the same, he would have the same respect paid to his ministers as if he had been a king." England ought to write the name of Cromwell in letters of gold, when she remembers that, within a space of four or five years, he avenged all the insults that had been lavishly flung upon her by every country in Europe throughout a long, disastrous, and most perplexing civil war. Gloriously did he retrieve the credit that had been mouldering and decaying during two weak and discreditable reigns of nearly fifty years' continuance--gloriously did he establish and extend his country's authority and influence in remote nations--gloriously acquire the real mastery of the British Channel--gloriously send forth fleets that went and conquered, and never sullied the union-flag by an act of dishonour or dissimulation! Not a single Briton, during the Protectorate, but could demand and receive either reparation or revenge for injury, whether it came from France, from Spain, from any open foe or treacherous ally;--not an oppressed foreigner claimed his protection but it was immediately and effectually granted. Were things to be compared to this in the reign of either Charles? England may blush at the remembrance of the insults she sustained during the reigns of the first most amiable, yet most weak--of the second most admired, yet most contemptible--of these legal kings. What must she think of the treatment received by the Elector Palatine, though he was son-in-law to King James? And let her ask herself how the Duke of Rohan was assisted in the Protestant war at Rochelle, notwithstanding the solemn engagement of King Charles under his own hand! But we are treading too fearlessly upon ground on which, in our humble capacity, we have scarcely the right to enter. Alas! alas! the page of History is but a sad one! and the Stuarts and the Cromwells, the Roundheads and the Cavaliers, the pennons and the drums, are but part and parcel of the same dust--the dust we, who are made of dust, animated for a time by a living spirit, now tread upon! Their words, that wrestled with the winds and mounted on the air, have left no trace along that air whereon they sported;--the clouds in all their beauty cap our isle with their magnificence, as in those by-gone days;--the rivers are as blue, the seas as salt;--the flowers, those sweet things! remain fresh within our fields as when God called them into existence in Paradise--and are bright as ever. But the change is over us, as it has been over them: we, too, are passing. O England! what should this teach? Even three things--wisdom, justice, and mercy. Wisdom to watch ourselves, and then our rulers, so that we neither do nor suffer wrong;--justice to the memory of the mighty dead, whether born to thrones or footstools;--mercy, inasmuch as we shall deeply need it from our successors. We must not longer trifle with or mingle among forbidden themes, but turn to that which lightens many a heart, and creates of its own power a magic world of pure and perfect enjoyment. Many there were, before and during those troublous times, who, heedless of the turmoils that were taking place around them, sang, as birds will sometimes sing, during the pauses of a thunder-storm. We would fain con over the names of a few of those who live with the memories of peace, and hope, and love, and joy--as so many happy contrasts to the wars and intrigues, that sin, and its numberless and terrible attendants, have brought upon this cheerful, and beautiful, and abundantly gifted earth. A blessing on sweet Poesy! whether she come to us mounted on the gallant war-horse, trumpet-tongued, awakening our souls and senses unto glory, hymning with Dryden some bold battle-strain that makes us crow of victories past, present, and to come;--or with a scholar's trim and tasselled cap, a flowing gown of raven hue, and many tales of Chaucer's--quaint, but pleasing--good reading under some old tree close by a quiet brook, where minnows sport and dart with silver flight beneath the broad-leaved lilies, whose white and yellow chalices are spread full to the cheerful heavens, wherein the sun rides like a monarch in his azure kingdom;--or, better still, mounted on a green dragon with glaring eyes and forky tongue, looking for encounter with some Christian knight, who, "full of sad feare and ghastley dreariment," would nathless risk life, honour, all--for his faire ladie love. Beloved Spenser! age withers not thy beauty. Or Poesy may come in the cool twilight, when the garish day is past, and the young modest flowers, which refused their perfume to the sun, that, with his hot and fiery beams, sought to command their incense, now welcome back the evening, and become prodigal of sweetness;--within some rustic temple, clustered with woodbine, where the robin or the tiny wren hath formed a nest of matchless skill and neat propriety, and trembles not at the approaching footstep, while the soft breath of heaven plays with those blossoms of the sun--the painted butterflies--that fold their wings and fain would sleep till morning. There let her come, and with her bring more blessed children of the olden time,-- "Whose names In Fame's eternal volume live for aye." The gallant handsome Surrey, tutored by Love into our first, if not our sweetest sonneteer; and Michael Drayton, with his apt crest--Mercury's bright cap, blazoned with sunbeams. Old Fletcher, floating towards his Purple Island, in the same graceful bark that bears his more thoughtful, it may be sombre, brother Giles. Then, garlanded with the rich thistle in all its purple glory; the perfume of his braes, and burns, and heather, reeking amid his clustering hair; his cheerful plaid, and his gay bonnet, graced by the heron's plume; his voice subdued by sorrow, but still sweet and free, singing of "Sion's flowers"--Drummond of Hawthornden! welcome from bonny Scotland, herald of a line of poets, who fling their music on the breezy air, that floats along in melody. Our gentle Lovelace! thee too I hail--beauty in all thy lines, so quaint yet graceful. A fopling poet though thou wert, dainty and perfumed, yet still a poet, sweet in a lady's bower, where all is fashioned as befits the place and time: a poet indeed! and, what is more, never wert thou turned from thy chosen path of duty by praise or purse--although a poet and poor all the days of thy most checkered life. Alas! must we contrast thee with the weathercock of the rhyming folk, bowing to kings, protector, lords, and all that could pay golden coin for his poesy? Many there be among the scribbling tribe who emulate a Waller's practice, and amble in his ill-chosen path; how few have the redeeming gift that was his so largely! And thou must not be forgotten, "O rare Ben Jonson!" for whom a single sentence doth suffice. And him, "the melancholy Cowley!" let him come too, with his honeyed wisdom: it will be still the sweeter if we think upon his stern bitterness in prose. Let him reprove the muse to whom he owes his fame,-- "Thou who rewardest but with popular breath, ----And that too after death:--" let him reprove, yet not come without her. Ah! the poet is but a sorry politician after all. Ye cannot do ill if ye pile the verdant turf breast high with those old masters; those mighty monarchs of sweet song,-- "Blessings be with them and eternal praise, The poets!" Bring them all, all, from the ancient of days, who have gained this "praise eternal," to those of our own age, who have laboured for, and will also obtain it. And chiefly among such as have sweetly carolled among us--still more, if ye be young and warm-hearted, with the affections pure and true within you--bring the dear lays of a poet--a ladye poet--a poet who will hold rank among the best, when life shall have given place to immortality.--How gladly do I add the tribute of admiration to the gift of friendship.--In her own eloquent words may we give our thoughts utterance. "Methinks it is not much to die-- To die, and leave behind A spirit in the hearts of men, A voice amid our kind; When Fame and Death, in unison, Have given a thousand lives for one. "Our thoughts, we live again in them, Our nature's noblest part; Our life in many a memory, Our home in many a heart: When not a lip that breathes our strain, But calls us into life again." But fail not, above all, to bring the one who comprehends the whole; whose name is to be found in every school-boy book, written in living letters--words that breathe; to whom the hearts of multitudes were as one most simple instrument, which he could tune and tone unto his pleasure. The birds taught him their language--the forest leaves had life within their veins, and talked with him of Nature's mysteries. The broad sea sent its homage by a thousand sprites, fresh from their coral beds, who watched him in his dreams, or by those sylvan glens wherein he wandered--riding the salt-sea foam, or the light spray of the wild cataract, they sung the melodies of river and of ocean into his soul. The beings of air, that, atom-like, float in the clearest ether, bathe in the liquid dew, or drink their nectar from the honey-bells of the wild heather bloom, called him their brother, and prated of their tricks in gay familiarity. Oh, world! art thou the self-same world that Shakspeare trod upon? And there's another too, who stands alone in his sublimity--who dared the mysteries of Paradise, and communed with angels--angels both of hell and heaven--a giant-master, yet a man of beauty, wisdom, simplicity, knowledge. Behold him as he sits, within the tapestried chamber at Hampton Court! 'Tis the same room in which the Protector sat last night; but how changed its aspect, just by the presence of that one man! How different is the feeling with which we regard men of great energy and men of great talent. Milton, blind--blind, powerless as to his actions, overwhelming in his genius, grasping all things and seeing into them, not with the eyes of flesh, but those of mind, altering the very atmosphere wherein we move, stilling the air that we may hear his oracles! The room is one of most curious fashion, and hung with the oldest tapestry in England, lighted on either side by long and narrow windows, that are even now furnished as in the time of the old cardinal who built them. On the low seat formed within the wall the poet sat. Who would suffer a thought of the ambitious Wolsey or the sensual Henry to intrude where once they held gay revels and much minstrelsy in their most tyrant pastimes? Cromwell, the great Protector, even Cromwell is forgotten in the more glorious company of one both poor and blind! He sat, as we describe him, within the embrasure of the narrow window; the heat and brightness of the summer sun came full upon his head, the hair upon which was full and rich as ever, parted in the centre, and falling in waving curls quite to his shoulders; his eyes were fixed on vacancy, but their expression was as if communing with some secret spirit, enlivening thus his darkness; he seemed not old nor young, for the lines upon his face could not be considered wrinkles--tokens were they of care and thought--such care and such thought as Milton might know and feel. He was habited with extraordinary exactness; his linen of the finest quality, and his vest and doublet put on with an evident attention to even minute appearance. His hands of transparent whiteness were clasped, as if he were attending to some particular discourse; he was alone in that vast chamber,--yet not alone, for God was with him--not in outward form, but in inward spirit. It was the Sabbath-day, and ever observed in the Protector's family with respect and reverence. The morning-meeting was over, and Cromwell in his closet, "wrestling," as he was wont to term it, "with sin." Silence reigned through all the courts--that due and reverend silence which betokens thoughtfulness, and attention to one of the Almighty's first commands--"Keep holy the Sabbath-day," given when he ordained that man should rest from his labours in commemoration that he himself set an example of repose after calling the broad earth into existence and beauty. The poet sat but for a little time in that wide silence; yet who would not give a large portion of their every-day existence to have looked on him for those brief moments, moments which for their full feeling might play the part of years in our life's calendar? Blessed holy time!--when we can look on genius, and catch the gems that fall from its lips! Yet Milton spoke not--he only looked; and still his looks were heavenward--turned towards that Heaven from whence they caught their inspiration. He heard the sound of coming footsteps, and loving quiet on that holy day, withdrew to his own chamber. How empty now appeared the tapestried hall! as when some great eclipse shuts to the golden portals of the sun, and steeps the earth in darkness! Soon after Milton's departure, the Protector entered, in conversation with his secretary, Thurloe; and although it was the Sabbath, there was an air of anxiety and eagerness about him, which made his step more hurried, more abrupt than usual. He suddenly stopped, and said,-- "Pray God that Colonel Jones and the troop arrived in time! Lady Frances, methinks, must have known something--seen something--however, now all shall be investigated. Pray God they arrived in time!" He then took from a large pocket-book a set of tablets, and having read therein for a few minutes, suddenly turning to Thurloe, exclaimed, "What! is this indeed the tenth?" "Even so," replied the secretary. "Then have I business which requires immediate attention," said his Highness. "Behold! I had nearly forgotten both the promise and the appointment; but spare nor haste nor trouble! Under the archway, at the left-hand side of Gray's Inn, after you pass the house whose corners are bound with white stones, the walls being of red brick--under that arch you will see a man--now mark me--a man wearing a green cloak, the collar being of velvet; and, to distinguish him the more perfectly, you will perceive that his hat is banded by a small blue riband, of the narrowest breadth: his left hand will be uncovered, and placed upon his breast, and on its centre finger will be a broad hoop ring of jet. Be there exactly as the clock of St. Paul's strikes three-quarters past four; and speak thou no word, nor make sign, except to put this bill into his hand, which, as thou seest, is for twenty thousand pounds, payable to the bearer at Genoa." "Is it your Highness's pleasure that I take no receipt?" "It is not needed--you can return hither by the evening meal." The secretary bowed, and withdrew; and at the same moment, the trampling of many horses sounded in the paved court-yard; and looking from the window, Cromwell beheld the arrival of Colonel Jones, and his prisoner, Sir Willmott Burrell. CHAPTER III. The base and guilty bribes of guiltier men Shall be thrown back, and Justice look as when She loved the earth, and feared not to be sold For that which worketh all things to it, gold. BEN JONSON. "The course of justice must not be delayed, although it be the Sabbath," said the Protector; and, having hastily ascertained that his officer had arrived at Cecil Place in time to prevent the intended marriage, he immediately ordered that Colonel Jones and Sir Willmott Burrell should be at once ushered into his presence. At the same time he despatched one of his pages to command the attendance of Manasseh Ben Israel. When the knight entered, he was received by Cromwell with his usual show of courtesy. He appeared, however, with a downcast look, his hands folded over his bosom, and his mind made up to the approaching contest with one whom he well knew to be as profound and accomplished a dissimulator as himself, when dissimulation was the weapon wherewith he designed to fight. Sir Willmott briefly apologised for his travel-worn and soiled habiliments, and displayed a due portion of surprise and indignation at being torn from his bride in the midst of the marriage ceremony. The Jew trembled with agitation, and would have interrupted the Protector's more slow, but not less sure, proceedings, had he not been prevented by a timely check from Cromwell, who bent his brow towards him with a peculiar and warning expression. "It cannot be supposed, Sir Willmott," he observed, in a calm, and even friendly tone, "but that I regret exceedingly being compelled to trouble you in this manner, and at such a time. You will be made aware that I have been called upon to perform a double duty; first, to my worthy and excellent friend Manasseh Ben Israel, with the nature of whose suspicions (it maketh a Christian soul shudder to think upon it) you are already acquainted--and next, to the lady who was about to become your wife. Her Highness has long and truly loved her; and she is, moreover, somewhat related (although only after the Episcopalian fashion) to my most beloved daughter. I was, therefore, bound to have especial care concerning the maiden's bridal." "The Lady Frances Cromwell could have informed your Highness that Mistress Constantia was, of her own free will, a party to the ceremony." "I do not dispute it. Now our business is to satisfy the mind of our friend here, as to your alleged conduct towards his only child. It is a noble matter in our laws, and one that we may well be proud of, that, by God's blessing, every man is considered innocent until he be proven guilty. The Lord forbid that I should lay aught of sin unto your charge!--you, who have appeared at all times a sure and a safe prop unto our Commonwealth. Doubtless you saw the lady--Zillah: say you not, worthy Rabbi, that the maiden's name was Zillah?" "Even so," replied the Jew, with a bitter sigh; "she was named after her mother." "You, doubtless, saw her, and, struck by her beauty, which we hear was most marvellous, paid her more courtesy than was quite fitting in a betrothed man. But Satan lays many snares for the unwary, and beauty is a peril that few men altogether escape. Verily, it is of the evil one. But there are excuses; at least there may be excuses, especially in such a land as France, where temptation assumes every seducing form; and a young woman, like this lady, might have been easily led to believe your courtliness to be that of the heart, whereas it was only that of the manner." The rabbi stood aghast, his friend Cromwell talked in a tone so much more moderate than he had expected--he knew not what to think. Even Burrell, who had anticipated a thunder-storm, was deceived by the calm; and, after considering a moment that the Protector would not speak thus if he had really received any communication from Hugh Dalton, replied, breathing freely for the first time since he received the mandate to appear at Hampton Court,-- "It is possible she might have been led to such belief, though, as I have before assured her father, I had no intention so to mislead his daughter. It is very hard to be suspected of a crime so base; and----" "But innocence wears a robe of such pure light," interrupted the Protector, "that it will shine in the darkest night, as yours will, if you are innocent. Know you how the fair Jewess became possessed of this picture? Nay, I should hesitate to think harshly of you, even if you had given it to her, which you might have done in pure friendliness, although the world--it is a harsh and ill-judging world--might condemn you on such ground. But we have ourselves suffered so much from its wrong judgment, as to have learned mercy towards others. Friendship, excellent, right, true friendship, may exist between man and woman in our advanced--ay, and in our young years. Why should it not? Or, as the picture is of excellent painting, and the young lady, it would seem, desired accomplishment in that useless art, you might have lent it her as a study--or----" "I certainly did not give it," replied Burrell; "but I have some idea of having lent it, with sundry Flemish drawings. Your Highness may remember that several gentlemen, attached to the embassy at Paris, came away hastily. I was one of those." Hereupon the Rabbi would have spoken, for he remembered how Sir Willmott had told him that the picture was not his; but the Protector again stayed him, seeking to entangle Burrell in a web of his own weaving. "You visited the lady frequently?" "Not very frequently. I told Manasseh Ben Israel, when first he injured me by this most unjust suspicion, that I did not often see her, and when I did, it was to ascertain if there were any letters she desired to transmit to England." "Not from the carnal desire of paying her homage?" "How could your Highness suppose it was?" "You but now confessed she might so have interpreted your civilities. But--know you aught of one Hugh Dalton, a free-trader?" "Know--know--know, your Highness? I know him for a most keen villain!" replied the Master of Burrell warmly. "Indeed!--But you scorned not to employ him." Burrell was silent; for, though he had journeyed full fifty miles, he had not been able to form any plan of defence, if Cromwell should really be aware of the arrangements entered into in the cavern of the Gull's Nest Crag. Such he now dreaded was the fact, not only from the appearance of a paper the Protector drew forth, but from the fact that the seeming calmness was fading from his brow. All that remained was stoutly to deny its being in his hand-writing: it was a case that finesse could in no way serve. "Did your Highness mean that I employed this man?" he said at last, with a clever mingling of astonishment and innocence in his voice and manner. During a brief pause that followed, the eye of Cromwell was, as it were, nailed upon his countenance. "I do mean, Sir Willmott Burrell, that you scorned not to employ this man. Know you this hand-writing?" Sir Willmott's worst fears were confirmed. "Permit me," he said, glancing over the document; then, looking from it with most marvellous coolness, he raised his eyes, exclaiming, "Sir, there is a plot for my destruction! This hand-writing is so well feigned, that I could have sworn it my own, had I not known the total impossibility that it could so be!" "I have seen your hand-writing before:--write now, sir." Burrell obeyed--took the pen in his hand, and Cromwell noted that it trembled much. "Sir Willmott, I believe you in general place your paper straight?" "Please your Highness, I do; but I am not cool--not collected enough to act as calmly as at my own table. The knowledge in whose presence I sit, might agitate stronger nerves than mine. Behold, sir, the villain counterfeited well; the _W_ is exact, even in the small hair-stroke--the _tt_'s are crossed at the same distance, and the _ll_'s are of the height of mine:--a most villanous, but most excellent counterfeit!" "Which?" inquired the Protector: "which mean ye is the counterfeit--the writing or the writer?---- Without there!--Call in Robin Hays. Sir Willmott Burrell, Sir Willmott Burrell! the Lord deliver me from such as thou art!" he continued, swelling and chafing himself into anger, 'pricking the sides of his intent,' that so he might overwhelm the dastard knight. "We doubted, sir, at first, but we doubt no longer. Sir, you have robbed that old man of his daughter! You have, by so doing, perjured your own soul, and brought most foul dishonour upon England. I once heard you talk of patriotism: a true patriot loves his country too well to commit a dishonourable action! Sir, I have learned that you were married to the Jewish girl." "Please your Highness," interrupted Manasseh at length, "I do not wish the marriage: if there be, as we suppose, a marriage, I wish it not kept; I only want my wretched and deluded child." "Your pardon, good Rabbi. I am protector of the rights, and not the fantasies, of those who inhabit England, and I hold no sinecure. You may well turn pale, Master of Burrell!--O Lord! that such should dwell in the tents of Judah!--that such should remain sound in life and limb, blessed with carnal and fleshly comforts!--that such reptiles should crawl among us--be fed by the same food, warmed by the same sun, as just men! No, no, Manasseh; if there _has_ been a marriage, as sure as the Almighty governs heaven, it shall be kept! Nay, Sir Willmott Burrell, never dare to knit your brows. Justice, sir, justice to the uttermost, is what I desire in this country! Dost remember the fate of Don Pantaleon Sa, the Portugal ambassador's brother--a knight of Malta, and a person eminent in many great actions? Dost remember him, I say--that he died the death of a murderer, according to the Scripture, 'he that sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.' Justice shall be satisfied!--Not that I seek to confound you without a hearing. But here comes one, once a retainer of your own, who can point out where the lady is." Robin Hays, little conscious of the fate that had befallen Barbara, entered with much alacrity, for he was glad of anything that afforded him change of place. "What, Robin Hays!" said Burrell. "Methinks your Highness has assembled most creditable witnesses against me--a Jew, and a thing like that!" "No sneering, sir. This person asserts that Zillah Ben Israel came over in the Fire-fly." "Ah! with Hugh Dalton," said Sir Willmott, thrown off his guard at what he conceived the Skipper's utter faithlessness; then muttering, "I thought----" "No matter what. Methinks _this_ confirms the document you denied," observed the Protector, whose rage had somewhat subsided. "No, not with Hugh Dalton, as you imagine, Sir Willmott, but with a man of the name of Jeromio, an Italian. The description answers in every respect--the dark eye, the black hair, the sallow aspect--all." "Indeed!" said Colonel Jones, who had been present during the examination, leaning against one of the window-frames, and taking much note of all that passed. "Indeed! then doth the Lord work marvellously, and wonderful is his name! for it was to all appearance a foreign woman, or rather fiend--one with a pale cheek and jetty locks, who interrupted the bridal at Cecil Place, and slew the fair young maid that waited on Mistress Cecil!" "Why told ye not this before?" inquired Cromwell hastily, while the Rabbi advanced towards the soldier with great eagerness as the Protector spoke. But there was another whose blood ran icy cold as the words of Colonel Jones were uttered. He stood for a moment as if suddenly smitten with some cruel malady, the next touch of which would be death; then he pushed boldly past Sir Willmott, and grasping the soldier's arm, said in a broken husky voice, "In God's name, who was slain?" "A modest-looking maid, whom they called Barbara,--yes, Barbara was the name." Robin spoke not again, nor did he move from the Colonel's side, though his hand relaxed its grasp: he stood and looked like a creature to whom the grave had refused rest--a being whose breath and blood were frozen and congealed, at the moment when life and its energies were most needed; strong passion, powerful feeling were upon his countenance, and remained there as if the spell of some magician had converted him to stone. The effect which this scene produced upon the Protector was evidence that he had a heart where the milk of human kindness flowed, and must once have flowed abundantly, however circumstances might have chilled its generous source. Deeply anxious as he was as to the result of the investigation, running full tilt at the difficulty he encountered, having the means of overwhelming the Master of Burrell within his reach, he suffered the Jew to continue a series of questions to Colonel Jones, while he spoke to Robin--soothing and caressing him as a father would have soothed and caressed an afflicted child. But this unbending of his sterner nature was lost upon the unhappy Ranger; he could not have replied if he would; all his faculties were suspended, and he remained in silence and without motion, unconscious of the Protector's condescending kindness. "'Tis ever thus," ejaculated Oliver, looking upon the sad figure now by his side. "'Tis ever thus; there never was a noble heart but the blight fell on it; doubtless he loved the maid: the Lord be with us! He is seized--pray the Almighty not for death." He struck his dagger on a hand-bell that lay upon the table, ordered that his own surgeon should attend Robin with all due speed, and then walked kindly by his side to the opened door, where he delivered him to a favourite attendant. Those in the ante-room who had witnessed Cromwell's gentleness to Robin Hays were profuse in their offers of assistance to one, whom, but a little while before, they had jested at and insulted. Courtiers are as ripe in republics as in king-governed countries. Your sycophants bow to the power, and not to the person. Dress but a dog in royal robes, and call him Emperor--Protector--King, and thousands will rejoice loudly if he but wag his tail. Cromwell returned to his investigation, and interspersed his questionings with much bitterness of remark--the more so as he feared his chain of evidence was in some degree incomplete, although no moral doubt could remain on the mind of any person as to the Master of Burrell's guilt. Colonel Jones failed not to show how anxious Sir Willmott had been that Zillah should escape, and the Rabbi's agitation bordered on madness when he contemplated the new crime into which his wretched daughter had been led. "Brand me as you please; think of me in your good judgment as you will. I am a free man; free to go as to come; and as your Highness cannot detain me on legal grounds, I am at liberty to depart." Sir Willmott had scarcely finished the sentence, when Gracious Meanwell, having first knocked, and received permission to enter, advanced with a small and peculiar-looking packet in his hand; it was composed of slips of parchment, and the direction was in printed, not written letters. "I crave your Highness's pardon; but a sailor-like lad brought this to the great gate, and would take no denial, but that it should be given immediately to your Highness, saying that he found it hanging in some out-o'-the way place, betwixt heaven and earth, far off in the Isle of Shepey, and seeing that it was directed to your Highness, he came straightway to deliver it; he prevailed on the porters to forward it up, which they did, knowing that your Highness wishes nothing of the sort to be kept back." While Meanwell spoke, Cromwell was undoing or rather tearing open the parcel; and the man was about to withdraw with all the court observance which the Protector would not lack. "The manifestation of the Lord! The manifestation of his righteous judgments! His ways are clear in Israel, and mighty is his name!--Look here, Colonel Jones; my worthy friend Manasseh Ben Israel, behold! Is it not wonderful! Gracious Meanwell, see that the bearer of this be well cared for, but safely kept. We will speak with him ourselves. Of a truth it is wonderful!" Such were the words of Cromwell as he scanned, with a rapid but scrutinising glance, each of the several papers contained in the parcel;--first, a certificate of marriage between Sir Willmott Burrell and Zillah Ben Israel, as performed by one Samuel Verdaie a monk residing at the Benedictine Friary in the "Faubourg St. Antoine," at Paris--next, many letters from the said Sir Willmott Burrell to the Jewess--and lastly, a love document given before their marriage, wherein he pledged himself to marry Zillah, and to use his influence with Cromwell (whom he facetiously termed _vieux garçon_), to induce her father to pardon the undutiful step she was about to take. "This is also a counterfeit, Sir Willmott, I presume," continued the Protector, pointing to the document; "nor is this in your hand-writing--nor this--and this is not your seal--and there is no such person as Samuel Verdaie--nor such place as the Benedictine Friary, or Paris, I suppose? What! have you lost the power of speech? Shame! shame! shame! and the curse of shame fall upon you! It is such men as you--such crimes as yours, that bring disgrace upon England. Sad will be the day for her, when she sinks in the estimation of the world as a moral nation. Behold her, a small speck in the immensity of the globe; yet great is her name among the kingdoms of the earth! A Briton carries, or ought to carry, ten times the influence of any other man, because our power is over the mind, over the respect, over the veneration of mankind. Go to, sir, you are no Englishman! Behold, how ill prosper your evil contrivances! Sir, I say again, you have robbed that old man of his daughter.--What say _you_?" "It was to spare that old man's feelings I denied the act," said Sir Willmott, again rallying, yet wanting the courage that forms a respectable villain; "it was to spare him. But the marriage is nought! a Popish priest, a Protestant gentleman, and a Jewess! I knew not your Highness would sanction such unholy rites. Besides, despite all this, the Lady Constantia will wed me yet." "By the holy heavens, she shall not!" exclaimed Cromwell, forgetting the Puritan Protector in the soldier, the soberness of the age in the energy of the moment; then as suddenly adding, "The Lord forgive me! the Lord blot out mine iniquities! See what it is to have to do with sinners!" "Shall not!" repeated Burrell, who was as much of the bully as the coward, and still trusted his cause to the knowledge of Constantia's filial affection, and her readiness to sacrifice all for her father; "let the lady decide." "So be it; though I hardly think it--there must be some hidden motive. Yet no, Sir Willmott Burrell, I will not,--even if _she will_, _I_ will it otherwise. Ah! think ye to control me? Didst ever hear of one Cony? or of Maynard Twisden, and Wyndham, his counsel? What if I imprison ye, Sir Willmott, till this Jewess be found, and compel ye to wed her again, even here in England! What say ye now?" "Would you have me wed a murderess?" inquired the villain, in a calm tone. "My child is not that," said the heart-broken father, who had been examining the papers, with overpowering anxiety. "What! good Manasseh?" inquired Cromwell. "That which he did call her," replied the Jew. "There needs no farther parley. Colonel Jones, we will ourself accompany our worthy friend to the Isle of Shepey, and investigate more minutely this most unhappy business. You will take all requisite care of Sir Willmott Burrell, who goes with us--willing or unwilling--Perhaps he would like to appeal from our decree? To-night we will set forth, so as to arrive at King's-ferry before to-morrow's sunset; for we must stay an hour at Whitehall, and say a word in passing to Colonel Lilburne, at Eltham." "How does your Highness travel?" "As befits our state," replied the Protector. "Worthy Rabbi, be not cast down; all may yet be well." "Your Highness is ever kind; but justice is inflexible. My child!--that which he called my child, rings in mine ear--pierces it! O Father Abraham! I knew not the curse that fell upon Israel until this day!" "All may yet be well, I say again," observed the Protector, "know ye not what was said by the prophet of old--the prophet of the Lord--'Now thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, fear not!'" "May I return and commune with your Highness?" craved Colonel Jones, as he escorted Burrell to the door--"there is much that I would mention, although this is the Lord's day." "Ay, certainly.--Gracious Meanwell! I would speak with him who brought this parcel." A lad was introduced; but he could tell nothing, except that passing along the crags of the Gull's Nest, (the Protector started at the name,) he saw the packet dangling in the air; he pulled at it, and it came easily away in his hand; and finding it directed to his Highness, he had been recommended to bring it forthwith--that he had ridden part of the way in company with some who were coming as far as Gravesend, and had 'lifted' him. He looked like what he was, part oyster-dredger, part smuggler. Cromwell saw nothing in him that would justify detention, and dismissed him with a liberal gratuity. "We shall solve the mysteries of this Gull's Nest Crag before we leave the island," thought the Protector, and then proceeded to the almost hopeless task of comforting the humbled and afflicted "Master in Israel." CHAPTER IV. Where I, a prisoner chain'd, scarce freely draw The air, imprison'd also, close and damp, Unwholesome draught. But here I feel amends, The breath of heaven fresh blowing, pure and sweet, With day-spring born. MILTON. My readers will, doubtless, be more interested in visiting Robin Hays than in noting the preparations made and the order observed by the Protector for his intended journey. When Cromwell put his state upon him, he did it with all dignity; there was no sparing of expense, no scant of attendants, no lack of guards--boldly and bravely were his arrangements formed; for he wisely knew that plainness and simplicity, although they may be understood and appreciated by the high-minded, are held in contempt by the low and the uneducated, because imagined to be within their own attainment. Had Cincinnatus ruled in England, he would never have abandoned a kingdom for a ploughshare; such an act would have been looked upon, at least by more than half the nation, as proceeding from weakness rather than from true strength of mind. The English, notwithstanding all their talk about equality, have not enthusiasm enough to understand or to feel the greatness that slights, and even scorns, magnificence! a gilded pageant wins their hearts; and a title overturns their understandings. We will here hazard the assertion, that if Cromwell had listened to a very powerful party, and had accepted, instead of having declined the name, while he possessed the station of a "King," he would have conquered all the obstacles by which he was surrounded, and have bequeathed a throne to his son, that in all human probability would have been continued in his family, even to our own day. We must leave this sentence, startling though it may be, without the arguments necessary to support it; certain it is, however, that so thought the Protector himself, who considered that the people of England, like the Israelites of old, would never be at rest until they had "a king to rule over them." It would be a vain attempt to describe the sufferings of Robin Hays, from the moment when the news of Barbara's death fell upon him like a thunderbolt, and he quitted the presence of the Protector without the power of reply. He was sensible of only one feeling--awake to only one emotion--his heart echoed but to one sensation--his eyes burned within their sockets--all things before him were confused; and there was but a single image present to his mind. As if in compassion to his personal deformity, Nature had endowed him with a degree of sentiment and refinement perfectly at war with his habits and pursuits. But in his case, such compassion was, if we may so speak, cruelty. Had he been born to a higher station, it might have been a blessing--in his present sphere it was a curse--a curse which the Ranger had felt most constantly and most acutely. He had been laughed at by such as Roupall, who exulted in the possession of mere brute strength; and he had been sneered and scouted at by the giddy and the vain, who, dreading his sarcasms, repaid themselves by finding out his one vulnerable point, and probing it to the quick. Barbara had stolen into his heart unconsciously, as a sweet and quiet stream insinuates itself through the bosom of some rugged mountain, softening and fertilising so gently, that its influence is seen and acknowledged while its power is unaccounted for and its source unknown. The belief that the young Puritan entertained an affection for him, was a belief he hardly dared to cherish; but there were times when he did cherish it; and it was at such times only that his turbulent and restless mind was enabled to find repose: then the memory of her kindness, her gentleness, her tenderness, would come upon him like sleep to the eyes of the weary--like a fresh well in a sandy desert--like a gentle spring after a stormy winter--in a word, like woman's love, where it is most hoped, but least looked for. Whenever he indulged the idea of her affection, he felt like one uplifted above the world--its base sorrows and still baser joys;--earth had for him but one sound of comfort--it was the name of her he loved! but one promise of happiness; and from her it was never for a moment severed--hope, love, faith, centred in her--she was his world, and though his wandering employments might summon him elsewhere, it was in her presence alone that he relished, or even felt existence. At times, when the acidity of his nature forced him to distrust her smiles, and he upbraided her though she deserved it not, hours of penitence could not blot out from his own remembrance the act of weakness and injustice: he pondered upon it long after the gentle girl had forgotten that ever unkind word had passed between them. Beings of a gross and fettered nature cannot conceive of a love so pure as that which Barbara felt for the mis-shapen Robin--so perfectly devoid of earthly passion, yet so faithful--so exalted--so devoted--so engrossing! She had looked so long on his deformities, that she had ceased to perceive them; and often paused and wondered what people meant by flouting at his plainness. But the excellent and gentle girl was now to the unfortunate Ranger only as a dream of the past--vanished from off the earth like a sweet perfume, or a sweeter melody, with the memory of which comes the knowledge that it can be enjoyed no more. After he had been conveyed to another chamber, the physician ordered restoratives and immediate bleeding;--but time did more than the leech's art; and the first wish he formed was, that he might once more wend his way to the Isle of Shepey, and gaze again, and for the last time, upon the form of her he loved. Once aroused from his torpor, the means of effecting his escape was the first thing he considered. He had been removed to one of the lower rooms, and his apartment could not be termed a prison, though the door was fastened on the outer side--for the window was not more than ten feet from the ground, and unbolted; it looked out into the garden, and the sentinel placed beside that portion of the building had a longer range than was usually allotted to the palace guard. Robin soon observed that the lawn beneath was planted with rich clusters of young trees. The hour for evening prayer had arrived; so that the household would be most probably engaged, and the garden free from visitors. He looked from the window; it was one of the loveliest days of summer--a day that at any other time he would have welcomed with all the enthusiasm of a true lover of nature; so warm the air, so sweet the flowers, so silently flitted the small insects, as if dreading to disturb the repose of the sunbeams that slept on the green turf. Nothing could be more unlike the vicinity of a court; the very sentry seemed to tread it as hallowed ground--his step was scarcely heard along the soft grass. Robin did not attempt to assume any disguise. "I shall walk boldly when I get out of the garden," he thought, "and if I am taken before Cromwell, I will say why I desire liberty; I only wish to see her once more, and then farewell to all! the red cross against my name, in Oliver's dark book, may be dyed still redder--in my heart's blood!" Although his arm was stiff from the bleeding he had undergone but an hour before, he watched till the soldier's back was turned, and dropped from the window. He had scarcely time to conceal himself beneath a row of evergreens when the sentinel turned on his path. Robin crept on, from tuft to tuft--now under the shadow of a tree--now under that of a turret, until he found himself close to a high wall which flanked the side next the river; and then he became sorely perplexed as to the method of his further escape. To the right was a gate which, from its position, he judged led into one of the outer courts, and, notwithstanding his first resolve of braving his way, habit and consideration induced him to prefer the track least frequented or attended with risk. At the extremity of the wall, where it turned at a right angle to afford an opening for a gateway, grew an immense yew-tree, solitary and alone, like some dark and malignant giant, stretching out its arms to battle with centuries and storms; softened by no shadow, cheered by no sunbeam, enlivened by no shower, no herb or flower flourished beneath its ban, but there it towered, like the spirit of evil in a smiling world. The wall, too, was overgrown with ivy--the broad ivy, whose spreading leaves hide every little stem that clasps the bosom of the hard stone, and, with most cunning wisdom, extracts sustenance from all it touches. Robin's keen eye scanned well every nook and corner, and he then mounted the tree, conceiving he might, with little difficulty, descend on the other side, as he perceived that the branches bent over the wall. He had hardly reached midway, when a voice, whose tones he well remembered, fell upon his ear, and for a moment called back his thoughts from their sad and distant wanderings. He paused: the sound was not from the garden, nor the roof. After much scrutiny, he discovered a small aperture of about a foot square, that was originally a window, but latterly had been choked by the matted ivy which overspread its bars. The voice was as of one who has tasted the weariness of life, and would fain put away the cup that was all bitterness. It sung, but the song was more a murmur than a lay, sorrowful as the winter's wind that roams through the long and clustering grass in some old churchyard, telling,-- "Of blighted hopes and prospects shaded, Of buried hopes remember'd well, Of ardor quench'd, and honour faded." With a trembling hand the Ranger sought to disentangle the ivy; but this he found it almost impossible to effect in consequence of the pain arising from his left arm whenever he slung himself by it. At length he in some degree succeeded, but could see nothing, except that light came up from a chamber, which, he then believed, must be lighted from beneath, though the window did not look into the garden. The voice still continued; it was one of the songs of Provence that was sung--the wail of a young girl over the body of her dead lover, the burthen of which was that of the Psalmist of old:-- "I shall go to thee, But thou canst never come to me." There was no poetry in the song, but the sentiment touched the heart of the afflicted Robin. His breast heaved and heaved, like the swell of the troubled sea, and then tears burst in torrents from his eyes, and relieved his burning and dizzy brain. "I never thought to have wept again," he said, "and I bless God for the ease it gives me; yet why should I bless that which has cursed me?" And again his heart returned to its bitterness; the hand that so often had attuned it to gentleness, was cold--cold in death. Alas! resignation is the most difficult lesson in the Christian code; few there are who learn it to perfection--it requires a long and a melancholy apprenticeship! Again he endeavoured to withdraw the ivy, and once ventured to speak; but he dreaded to raise his voice. "At all events," thought Robin, "I will send him a token;" and, extending his hand, he dropped the paper containing the lock of hair which had been given him by the blithe landlady of the Oliver's Head. The ringlet was received, for on the instant the singing ceased, and presently Walter De Guerre called aloud, "In the name of God, who sends me this?" Bitterly did Robin regret that he was totally unprovided with pencil, tablets, or aught that could convey intelligence to Walter. At another time his active genius would have found some means of communication, but his faculties were only half alive, and he could but regret and listen. It would appear, however, that, as Walter spoke, he was interrupted by some one entering his chamber, for his voice suddenly ceased, and though Robin heard it again, it was in converse with another. He listened attentively for some time, but could catch nothing of the subject upon which they spoke. As suddenly as the interview had commenced, so suddenly did it terminate; for, though Robin threw pieces of stick and fragments of mortar into the aperture, to intimate that he continued there, no answering signal was returned. The evening was drawing on, and persons passed and repassed beneath the tree--some of them with hurried, some with slower steps: at last the self-same page with whom he had jested rushed forward in company with the sentinel, and Robin heard him say,-- "I tell you, his Highness will wait no forms; he commanded you instantly to come to him. It is impossible that a cat could fall from that window without your seeing it, unless you were asleep on your post." "I had no caution about the window, master; and, at all events, nothing, I am sure, could pass from it, except a spirit," replied the soldier. Immediately after the guard passed for the purpose of replacing the sentinel; and about half an hour afterwards, there was a bustle in the courts, the tramping of brave steeds, and the rolling of carriage-wheels; then the braying trumpet sounded "to horse!" and soon the noise of much and stately pageantry was lost in the distance. Robin Hays cared not to move until the palace was more at rest; but his meditations were continually disturbed by the passers-by. Had he been disposed to listen or pay any attention to those who came and went, he could have heard and seen things, from which much that was bitter and much that was sweet might have been gathered. He might have observed that a plain coat or a simple hood changes not the nature of those who wear it; yet, on the other hand, he would have noted that the plain coat and simple hood preserve from outward vice, however the inward thoughts may triumph. But the watchful lynx-eyed ranger was changed, sorely, sadly changed; in four brief hours he had lived more than treble the number of years. He patiently lingered, till the shades of evening closed, to effect an escape, that had now become more easy, inasmuch as the inmates of the palace had nearly all retired to their apartments. Through the agency of the yew-tree, he arrived at the highest portion of the wall, and looking over, perceived that a roof descended from the large coping-stones on which he stood, in a slanting manner, and that the building communicated by an arched covering to the palace: the Thames was not distant from the base of the building more than sixty yards, so that once down, his escape was certain. Watching the movements of a sentry, posted at some little distance from the gate, he slid along the roof, stretching himself at full length, and without any further mishap crawled to the river's brink, plunged in, and arrived at the Surrey-side of the silver Thames in perfect safety. He resolved to cross the country to Bromley with as little delay as possible, inasmuch as he had friends there who would hasten his journey;--and as concealment was no longer needed, he thought that a good steed would be most valuable; he therefore availed himself of one who was enjoying its evening meal quietly among the Surrey hills; for the credit of his honesty, however, it is fair to record, he noted the place, so that one of his agents could restore the animal in the course of the following night. By this manoeuvre, and urging its utmost speed, together with the assistance he received at Bromley, Robin arrived at King's-ferry before the morning was far advanced. He did not now, as on former occasions, cross the Swale to Elmley or Harty, with a view to avoid observation, but threw himself into the boat of Jabez Tippet, the ferryman, to whom, as it may be supposed, he was well known. Jabez carried about him all the external distinctions of Puritanism--a cropped head--a downcast eye--a measured step, and a stock of sighs and religious exclamations. There was one maxim that found a ready response within his bosom. "He was all things to all men;" could aid a smuggler, drink with a Cavalier, pray with a Roundhead. He was, moreover, a tall, powerful man--one who, if he found it fitting, could enforce a holy argument with a carnal weapon; cutting a man's throat, while he exclaimed, "It is the Lord's will! it is the Lord's will!" There was nothing peculiar in his dress, except a huge pair of loose boots, of the thickest untanned leather, that reached considerably above his knees, and from frequent immersion in the tide had assumed a deep brown hue. His hat was conical, and only distinguished by a small dirk glittering in the band, which he carried there as a place of safety from contact with the sea-water. "My gay Ranger travelling in open day, when there is such wild news abroad!" he said. Robin made no reply; and Jabez, who was pulling at the huge cable, which then, as well as now, towed the boats across, stopped and looked at him. "My bonny Robin, what ails ye, man? Hast been cheated by the excise, or plundered by the Roundheads, or does the strange trouble they say has come upon Hugh Dalton affect ye so much?" Robin turned his head away; his grief was too deep to covet witnesses. "There's a guard of Ironsides at Cecil Place by this time," continued the man, who began to think that Robin was relapsing into one of his taciturn fits, "and Noll himself on the road, which I heard, not an hour past, from two soldiers, who have been sent on with his own physician to Sir Robert, who's gone mad as a March hare; and they do say that his Highness has a plan of his own to destroy all free trade on the island for ever: but I'm thinking Hugh has scented it, and is far enough off by this time." Robin looked inquiringly into the man's face, but did not speak. "Some time or other, master," continued the ferryman, whose boat now touched the strand, "you'll maybe condescend to unriddle me how Dalton could have a daughter brought up by----" Robin Hays did not wait for the conclusion of the sentence, but sprang right on the land, with the air of a man bereft of reason, confirming Jabez in the idea that he was again labouring under his old infirmity. The Ranger took not the direct road to Minster, which he ought to have passed on his way to the Gull's Nest, where he resolved to ascertain if Barbara's body was at Cecil Place; but after crossing the downs, that were brightening in the summer's sun and alive with multitudes of sheep, wound round the base of the hill on which the mansion stood, and as its mixture of ancient and modern architecture became developed, he paused to look upon a spot so endeared by many affectionate recollections. The trees that encircled the fairy ring were conspicuous for their height and beauty of colour; there, too, was the casement window which he had so often watched, knowing that Barbara must pass it in her morning and evening attendance on her lady; there, peeping from beneath a turret, the lattice admitting light to Barbara's own little chamber; there, the window of Constantia's sitting-room; there---- But he could gaze no longer, his heart sickened within him, and covering his face with his hands, he rushed into a narrow glen that skirted the hillside, and was completely overshadowed by trees, whose unpruned branches were matted and twined together in most fantastic and impervious underwood. He pursued this track, with which he was well acquainted, as leading directly to the back entrance, where he more than once resolved to inquire where Barbara's remains were placed; but he had scarcely proceeded a dozen yards towards the house, when his attention was excited by a sudden and loud rustling amongst the bushes, and on looking towards the spot, he saw first one and then another raven mount in the air, uttering, at short intervals, the peculiar dull and complaining cry of rapacious birds when frightened from their prey. The creatures evidently meditated another descent, for, instead of betaking themselves to the neighbouring trees, they circled round and round in the air, now higher, now lower, mingling their monotonous notes with an occasional scream--thus inharmoniously disturbing the sweet solitude by their unholy orgies. In the mean time, the rustling beneath was renewed, and then as suddenly ceased; but the birds, instead of descending, whirled still higher, as if the object they had sought was for a time hidden from their sight. The Ranger proceeded more cautiously than before, and peering into the bushes, descried one whom he immediately recognised as Jack Roupall, unfastening something of considerable bulk that was contained in a handkerchief, and had apparently lain there for some days, as the grass from which it had been taken was completely levelled by its pressure. Roupall's ears were nearly as quick as those of Robin, and an exclamation of recognition escaped his lips as he turned round to where the Ranger stood. "Ah! our little Ranger," said the man, extending his rough hand, "it charms me to see you! I feared you were nabbed somehow, for I knew you'd be cursedly down in the feathers from what the whole island is talking of.--Hast seen the Skipper?" "Where is he?" "That's exactly what I want to know; but no one has seen him, that I hear of, since he seized the poor girl, dead as she was, and carried her through the midst of the soldiers, who had too much fear or too much nature in 'em to touch him--I don't know which it was. I'm thinking he's off to the Fire-fly, for he said he'd bury her in the sea;--or hid, maybe, in some o' the holes at the Gull's Nest--holes only known to a few of the sly sort, not to us strappers." "Good God!" exclaimed Robin. "Ah! you may well say, good God," said Roupall, putting on a look of great sagacity, "for I'm come to the determination that there's much need of a good God in the world to circumvent man's wickedness. Why, look ye here now, if here isn't the head of that infernal Italian, Jeromio! and what I'm puzzled at is, that, first, it's wrapped in a napkin which I swear is one of them Holland ones I had o' the Skipper, and which he swore I could have made more of, had I took them on to London, instead of tiffing them at Maidstone; and this, outside it, is Sir Willmott Burrell's--here's the crest broidered in goold:--it's the finest cambric too," he added, relieving the muslin of its disgusting burden, and folding it with care, "and 'tis a pity it should be wasted on filthy flesh; so I'll take care of it--ah! ah! And the napkin's a good one: it's sinful to spoil any thing God sends--ah! ah! The fellow used to wear ear-rings too," he continued, stooping over the festering head, while the ravens, whose appetites had increased when they saw the covering entirely removed, flapped the topmost branches of the trees with their wings in their circling, and screamed more vigorously than before. "How came it--how happened it?" inquired Robin, perfectly aroused to the horror of the scene, to which Roupall appeared quite indifferent. "I know no more than you," replied the good-humoured ruffian, holding up a jewelled ear-ring between his fingers--"I know no more than you;--Gad, that's fit for any lady's ear in Kent!--Only I heard it was believed among the sharks, that my friend Sir Willmott excited a mutiny aboard the Fire-fly, which this fellow, now without a head, headed--and so, ye understand, lost his head, as the Skipper's punishment for mutiny. How it came here--where it may stay--I know not. There, Robin, there are a pair of rings fit for a queen: maybe, you'll buy them; they're honestly worth two dollars. Well, you would have bought 'em if she'd ha' lived." "Me!--her!" exclaimed Robin, closing his teeth, and glaring on Jack Roupall with fiendish fierceness. "Keep off!" ejaculated Roupall, securing the ear-rings, and placing himself in a posture of defence--"Keep off! I know ye of old, Robin Hays, with your griping fingers and strong palms! Never quarrel with a man because he doesn't understand ye'r delicacies, which are things each makes in his own mind, so that no one else can taste 'em. I meant no harm; only, mark ye, ye sha'n't throttle me for nothing the next go; so keep off; and I'm off, for sides o' flesh and sides o' iron are astir up there; so this is no place for me. I shall be off, and join King Charlie: he's much in want of strong hands, I hear, and who knows but the time is coming when 'the king shall enjoy his own again?'" "Do but bury _that_!" said Robin: "I would stay and do it, but that I must to the Nest at once." "No, no," replied Roupall, striding away in an opposite direction; "let it stay where it is, to poison ravens and the carrion-birds. It is fitting food for them. They had nobler banquets at Naseby and at Marston." CHAPTER V. Down, stormy Passions, down; no more Let your rude waves invade the shore Where blushing Reason sits, and hides Her from the fury of your tides. * * * * * * * Fall, easy Patience, fall like rest, Where soft spells charm a troubled breast. HENRY KING. We believe that even those who are anxious to learn if the Protector travelled in safety to his place of destination, and what he did when he arrived there, will scarcely murmur at the delay which a brief visit to Constantia Cecil will necessarily occasion. We must not leave her alone in her sorrow, which, of a truth, was hard to bear. A temporary respite had been afforded her by the terrible events of the evening; it was, however, a respite that was likely, in her case, only to bring about a more fatal termination. What was to prevent Sir Willmott Burrell from branding her father--from publishing his crime, now that he was to receive no benefit by the terrible secret of which he had become possessed? Although she might be preserved from the dreadful and dreaded doom of marrying a man she could neither regard nor respect, it was equally certain that an eternal barrier existed between her and the only one she loved--a barrier which not even the power of Cromwell could break down or remove. It has been said, and said truly, that there are few things reason can discover with so much certainty and ease as its own deficiency. Constantia was a reasoning being, and she appeared ever placid in situations where her fine mind was overwhelmed by a painful train of circumstances over which she had no control: the sins for which she suffered were not of her own committing. She had often gloried in days past at the prospect of fame--the honest, upright fame which appeared the guiding principle that influenced her father's actions, when the seeking after glory seemed to her as a ferment thrown into his blood to work it up to action; and though she sometimes apprehended that he used his will with his right hand and his reason with his left, she never imagined the possibility that his pomp was furnished by injustice and his wealth dyed in blood. It was, in truth, a fearful knowledge she had acquired--a knowledge she could not communicate, and upon which she could never take advice. Her misery was to be endured not only with patience, but in secret and without complaint. That destiny was indeed severe which compelled her to anticipate a meeting with Walter as the greatest evil which could befall her; yet ardently did her soul yearn to know his fate. She sat by her father on the first night of his affliction, and on the long, long day that followed, guarding him through his dreadful malady with the watchfulness of a most devoted child, and the skilfulnes of a most wise physician. Almost every word he uttered was as a dagger to her heart; yet she saw and knew the necessity that must soon exist for others to hear him speak, and shuddered at the thought. "God! God! have mercy on me!" she murmured, clasping her hands, as she looked upon his features, which, when it was nearly morning, had been tranquillised into forgetfulness--"God have mercy upon me--and upon him, poor sleeper!" "Who sleeps?" he exclaimed, starting from his couch--"_He_ will not let me sleep!--There! Constance, Constance, the ship is under weigh--she spreads her white sails to the breeze, the ocean breeze--the breeze that will not cool my brow!--And there--they drag him from the hold!--Look how he struggles on the vessel's deck!--Spare him!--But no, do not spare him: if he returns, where am I? Hush! did you hear that?--Hush! hush! hush!" He stretched his hand, and bent his head in an attitude of deep attention; then seizing her arm, repeated "hush!" until at last she again inquired what disturbed him. "'Tis your mother, child; heard you not that she said I murdered you? Speak, Constantia,--you are not dead? I did not murder you--speak! I fired no pistol, and you did not fall!" The sleep she had so unintentionally broken had been but of short continuance during those weary hours; and the day was far advanced before she had leisure to bestow a moment's thought upon the probable turn that might be given to her future prospects by the sudden summons of Sir Willmott Burrell to Hampton Court. But, upon whichever side she turned, her destiny was dark, lowering, and fearful as the thunder-storm. How her heart fainted when the form of her favourite Barbara was present to her imagination, as she last held it bleeding on her bosom! How mysterious was that death! how terrible! She would have given worlds to look upon her but once more, for she could ill reconcile the idea of that gentle girl's having a stormy sea-bed at her father's hands--that rude, unhallowed man, the origin and nature of whose influence over her own parent she now understood but too well. Lady Frances Cromwell would have soothed her affliction had she known how to do so, but comfort cannot be given to a sorrow whose source is unknown. She entered her friend's watching-room, but could not prevail upon her to take either repose or food; and hoping to catch the earliest view of the physician, whose arrival she knew must be soon, she called one of her women to attend her, and wandered up the hill to Minster, where the beautiful ruins of Sexburga's nunnery commanded so extensive a view of the entire island, and a considerable portion of the adjoining country. The day had risen to one of unclouded beauty; the marshy coast of Essex was cleared of its hovering fogs; and its green meadows stretched away in the distance, until they were lost in the clear blue sky. The southern part of the island, flat and uninteresting as it is, looked gay and cheerful in the sun-light; for every little lake mirrored the smiling heavens, and danced in diamond measures to the music of bee and bird. The cliffs at East-Church towered away for nearly six miles, broken here and there by the falling of some venerable crag, hurled, as it were, into the ocean by the giant hand of changing nature; while, as a sentinel, the house at Gull's Nest Crag maintained its pre-eminence in front of the Northern Ocean. The two little islands of Elmley and Harty slept to the south-east, quietly and silently, like huge rush-nests floating on the waters. Beyond East-Church the lofty front of the house of Shurland reared its stone walls and stern embattlements, and looked proudly over its green hills and fertile valleys--while, if the eye wandered again to the south, it could discern the Barrows, where many hundred Danes, in the turbulent times long past, found quiet and a grave. Several large men-of-war, with reefed sails and floating pennons, lay at the entrance of the Nore, while a still greater number blotted the waters of the sluggish Medway;--still the sun shone over all; and what is it that the sun does not deck with a portion of its own cheerfulness and beauty? "Mount up the tower, Maud," said Lady Frances, "the tower of the old church; it commands a greater range than I can see; and tell me when any cross the ferry; thy eyes, if not brighter, are quicker far than mine." "Will ye'r ladyship sit?" replied the sapient waiting-maid; "I'll spread a kercher on this fragment of antiquity: ye'r ladyship can sit there free from any disturbance. I can see as well from this high mound as from the castle, or church-steeple, my lady; it is so hard to climb." "Maud, if you like not to mount, say so, and I will go myself. You are dainty, young mistress." Maud obeyed instantly, though with sundry mutterings, which, well for her, her lady heard not; for the Lady Frances was somewhat shrewishly given, and could scold as if she had not been a princess, the rank and bearing of which she was most anxious to assume, and carry as highly as the noblest born in Europe. "See you aught?" she inquired, at last looking up to Mistress Maud, whose head, surmounted by its black hood, overlooking the parapet wall, showed very like a well-grown crow. "A shepherd on yonder hill, lady, waving his arm to a dog down in the dingle, and the beast is driving up the fold as if he were a man." Lady Frances bent over a tombstone near her and read the inscription. It described in quaint, but touching language, the death of a young woman, about her own age, the day before her intended bridal. There had been a white rose-tree planted close to the rude monument, but its growth was impeded by a mass of long grass and wild herbage, so that there was but one rose on its branches, and that was discoloured by a foul canker, whose green body could be seen under the froth it cast around to conceal its misdeeds. Lady Frances took it out, destroyed it, and began pulling up the coarse weeds. "Such a tomb as this I should have liked for Barbara," she said aloud, sighing heavily as the words escaped her lips. "She will not need it," replied a voice from under an old archway, close beside where she sat. Lady Frances started. "Will you tell your friend, Mistress Cecil," continued the same voice--Lady Frances could not see the speaker, although, as may be readily believed, she looked around her with an anxiety not divested of terror--"Will you tell your friend, Mistress Cecil, that old Mother Hays, of the Gull's Nest Crag, is dying, and that she has something to communicate which it concerns her to know, and that the sooner she comes to the Gull's Nest the better; for the woman's spirit is only waiting to tell her secret, and go forth." "Methinks," replied Lady Frances, "that her own child--I know she has one--would be a fitter depositary for her secret than a lady of gentle blood. But why come ye not forth? I hate all jugglery." "Her own child, Robin, is away, the Lord knows where; and those who are not of gentle blood are as eager after secrets as other folk. Your father has had rare hunting after the Cavaliers and their secrets, though his blood has more beer than Rhenish in it, to my thinking." Lady Frances stamped her little foot with rage at the insult, and called, in no gentle tone, "Maud! Maud!" then raising her voice, which she imagined could be heard below, as the garden of Cecil Place joined the ruins of Minster, she shouted, in a way that would have done no discredit to any officer in the Commonwealth service, "Below there!--turn out the guard, and encircle the ruins!" "Turn out the guard, and encircle the ruins!" mimicked the voice, which was evidently receding; "the little Roundhead's in a passion!--'Turn out the guard!' ah! ah! ah!" and the laugh appeared to die away beneath her feet. Maud had hastened down right joyfully at the summons, and stood beside her mistress, whose temper had by no means cooled at the term "Roundhead," as applied to herself; and broke forth in good earnest, when noting a smile that elongated her woman's lip, as she said,-- "Law! daisy me, my lady! I thought you were run away with, seeing I have just seen two ravens come out o' the glen--the Fox-glen, as we call it." "Run away with!" repeated Lady Frances, bridling; "have the goodness to remember to whom it is you speak--woman--Here has been a--a--voice--Why turns not out that coward guard? we are too long peaceful, methinks, and need a stir to keep our soldiers to their duty." "A voice, my lady!" repeated Maud, creeping to Lady Frances, and remembering the legends they had talked of in the hall--"Did it speak, my lady?" "Fool! how could I know it a voice if it had not spoken?" replied Lady Frances, who, as her temper subsided, felt that she was making herself ridiculous, as it would not be in keeping with her dignity to repeat the words she had heard. "Shall I go down and call up the guard, and the servants, my lady, to see after this voice?" persisted Maud, with the stupid obstinacy of a person who can only see one thing at a time. "Go up to the steeple, and look out--But--no--follow me to the house; and remember," she added, with all the asperity of a person who is conscious of having permitted temper to overcome judgment, "that we are in the house of mourning, and ought not to indulge in any thing like jest--say nothing of my alarm--I mean of what I heard, to your companions: it is not worth recording----" "My lady!" "Silence, I say!" returned Lady Frances, folding her robe round her with the dignity of a queen. The woman certainly obeyed; but she could not resist muttering to herself, "She never will let a body speak when she takes to those stormy fits. Marry, come up! I wonder who she is!--Well, she's punishing herself; for I could have told her that out by East-Church I saw two soldiers and another, who seem to have taken the wrong instead of the right road; and, after still staying a little at the Cross, turned back on their steps, so as to come to Cecil Place." How many bars and pitfalls are in the way of those who would climb highly, even if they wish to climb honestly and holily! If they stand as the mark for a multitude's praise, they have also to encounter a multitude's blame--the rabble will hoot an eagle; and the higher he soars, the louder will they mock--yet what would they not give for his wings! Lady Frances's woman found within her narrow bosom an echo to the sneer of the mysterious voice; yet, could she have become as Frances Cromwell, how great would have been her triumph! How curious are the workings of good and evil in the human heart! How necessary to study them, that so we may arrive at the knowledge of ourselves. Yet Maud loved her mistress; and had not Lady Frances reproved her harshly and unjustly, she would never have thought, "Marry, come up! I wonder who she is!" The spirit of evil worked at the moment in both--in the lady, as a triumphant tyrant--in the woman, as an insolent slave. We leave it to our philosophical readers to determine which of the two manifestations was the most dangerous: we hope their displeasure against either will not be very violent; for we have but too frequently observed the self-same dispositions animate bright eyes and open coral lips. Women are frequently greater tyrants than men, because of their weakness: they are anxious for power as the means of strength; and therefore they more often abuse it than use it properly; and men are better slaves than women; because an innate consciousness of their strength, which they are apt to believe they can employ whenever a fitting opportunity occurs, keeps them tranquil. It has been often noted, that in popular tumults women are frequently the most busy, and the least easy to be controlled. No one would have supposed that Lady Frances's temper had been ruffled, when she crept into the room where Constantia was watching her still sleeping father, and communicated the news of the anticipated death of Mother Hays, with her strange request, in so low a whisper, that happily he was not disturbed. She quitted the apartment when her father's physician was announced; but not until he had informed her that his Highness was about to visit the Island, inquire personally after the health of Sir Robert Cecil, investigate the strange murder that had occurred, inspect the fortress of Queenborough, and ascertain if useful fortifications might not be erected at Sheerness; thus mingling public with private business. CHAPTER VI. This deadly night did last But for a little space, And heavenly day, now night is past, Doth shew his pleasant face: * * * * * * * The mystie clouds that fall sometime, And overcast the skies, Are like to troubles of our time, Which do but dimme our eyes; But as such dewes are dried up quite When Phoebus shewes his face, So are such fancies put to flighte Where God doth guide by grace. GASCOIGNE. It would be an act of positive inhumanity to leave the unfortunate preacher any longer to his solitude, without taking some note, however brief it may be, of his feelings and his sufferings. After consigning his packet (which, as we have seen, was not only received, but appreciated by--the Protector) to the rocks and breezes of the Gull's Nest Crag, he sat him down patiently, with his Bible in his hand, to await whatever fate was to befall him, or, as he more reverently and more properly termed it, "whatever the Almighty might have in store for him, whether it seemed of good or of evil." The day passed slowly and heavily; but before its close he had the satisfaction of ascertaining that the parcel had disappeared. Again and again he climbed to the small opening: at one time he saw that the fierce sunbeams danced on the waves, and at another that they were succeeded by the rich and glowing hues of the setting sun; then came the sober grey of twilight--the sea-birds screamed their last good-night to the waters--one by one the stars came out, gemming the sky with brilliancy, and sparkling along their appointed path. The preacher watched their progress and meditated on their mysteries; though his meditations would have been more cheerful could he have partaken of any of the "creature comforts" appertaining to Cecil Place, and under the special jurisdiction of Solomon Grundy. It was in vain that he had recourse to the crushed oranges--they merely kept his lips from parching and his tongue from cleaving to the roof of his mouth, and by the dawning of the Sabbath morn he was "verily an hungered"--not suffering from the puny and sickly faintness of temporary abstinence, but literally starving for want of food. He paced his narrow cell--called loudly from the window--exhausted his strength in fruitless endeavours to shake the door which the treacherous Burrell had so securely fastened, until, as the day again approached to its termination, he threw himself on the ground in an agony of despair. "To die such a death--to die without a witness or a cause! If the Lord had willed that I should suffer as a martyr for his holy word, Jonas Fleetword would not have been the man to repine, but gladly would have sacrificed his body as a proof of his exceeding faith, and as an example to encourage others; but to be starved for Sir Willmott Burrell's pastime--to starve in this horrid cell--to feel nature decaying within me, while not even the ravens can bring me food! O God! O God! pass thou this cup from me, or implant a deep spirit of patience and resignation within my soul!" The unfortunate man continued praying and exclaiming, until nature became almost exhausted, and he sat opposite the aperture, his eyes fixed on the heavens, from which the light was once more rapidly receding. "If the villain willed my death, why not exterminate me at once?" he thought; and then he prayed again; and as his fervour increased, the door opened, and, by the dim light that entered his cell, he discovered the figure of a tall stalwart man, who was in the middle of the chamber before he perceived that a living being occupied any portion of it. "The Lord has heard!--the Lord has answered! the Lord has delivered!" exclaimed the preacher, springing on his feet with astonishing agility; then going up closely to his deliverer, he scanned his features with an earnest eye, and continued, "It is not the chief of cunning, art, and bloodshed, albeit one who appears skilled in the habits of warlike people. Friend, my inward man doth greatly suffer from long abstinence, seeing I have not tasted any thing but a fragment of bitter orange in a state of decomposition, to which I should soon have been reduced myself but for thy timely arrival! Behold, I have been compelled to tarry here a prisoner for the space of thirty-six hours, computing by the rising of the sun and the setting thereof.--Art thou a friend to Sir Willmott Burrell?" "D--n him!" replied the stranger with a startling earnestness that left no doubt of his sincerity, at the same time returning to his belt the pistol he had drawn forth at the sight of a stranger in one of the most secret apartments of the Crag. "Friend!" exclaimed the poor preacher, greatly offended, despite his hunger, at the man's unblushing profaneness, "I cannot commune with thee if thou art of the household of evil-speakers: it is not in thy power to set the mark of destruction on any, though, doubtless, that evil man is in danger of hell-fire. I like not to seem as caring for the creature, but the Creator hath given the things of earth for man's support--hast thou food?" "Follow me," was the brief reply; and Fleetword did follow as quickly as his exhausted state permitted, to the large vaulted room in which we have heretofore encountered the Buccaneer. Hugh Dalton, for he it was who had so unexpectedly, but so fortunately, broken in upon the dreary solitude of the preacher, pointed to a rude table, upon which stood fragments of a substantial meal: these Fleetword immediately attacked, while the Skipper re-ascended the stairs, down which he had conducted his unlooked-for guest, and disappeared. When the worthy man had satisfied his hunger, he glanced from flagon to flagon, piled one over another upon the floor. "They are, of a truth, dangerous; yet here is no water, and I am, of a verity, much athirst." He seized one that had been opened, and drank so eagerly, that, unused as he was to such potations, his head in a very short space of time became incapable of directing his motions; and when Dalton returned, the simple-minded man was sleeping soundly, his forehead resting on his arms, that were crossed on the table. Dalton looked upon him for a few moments, and a curse--one of those to which he was unhappily familiar--burst from his lips. "I cannot learn how he came there," he said; "the thing will sleep till morning:--a pretty nursery my Crag has become!" He moved towards the portion of the wall we have formerly mentioned as being covered with the skins of various animals, and holding them out from the side of the cave, discovered a very small arched chamber, which, as well as the one where Fleetword had just partaken of "the creatures comforts," was lighted by a small iron sconce, carefully guarded by a horn shade. Directly opposite the entrance a female was seated after the Eastern fashion, cross-legged, upon a pile of cushions. She placed her finger on her lip in token of silence, and the Buccaneer returned the signal by beckoning her forward; she rose, though with some difficulty, and as a rich shawl, in which she had been enveloped, fell from her shoulders, her appearance denoted her a married woman. Dalton pointed to Fleetword, and the instant she saw him, she clasped her hands, and would have rushed towards him; but this the Skipper prevented, and they exchanged a few sentences in a strange language, the apparent result of which was, that Dalton proceeded to examine the pockets of the sleeper, and even thrust his hand into his bosom, without, however, it would seem, finding what he sought. There was the small Bible, a handkerchief, a reading-glass, some fragments of orange-peel, which, perhaps, he had unwittingly thrust there, one or two old religious pamphlets, a newspaper--and a strip of parchment. The foreign lady shook her head, as Dalton laid each upon the table. After a few more words, both the Buccaneer and the stranger were secreted in the arched chamber, and the curtain of skins again fell over the entrance. It was past the hour of the next day's noon before the preacher recovered from the effects of potations so unusual to him. It was then that Dalton questioned him, and discovered the artifice and cruelty of the treacherous Burrell, in abandoning the poor preacher to starvation: a consequence that must have occurred, had not the Skipper providentially stood in need of some articles of bedding, that were kept in this chamber, as matters rarely needed by his crew. Fleetword, having explained what he had done with the required papers, would have willingly departed, but Dalton detained him, frankly saying, that he cared not, just then, to trust any one abroad, who had seen so much of the mysteries of his singular palace. Without further ceremony, he was again confined, in a small cupboard-like cavity, close to the hostelry of the Gull's Nest. It was not long after the preacher's second imprisonment, that Robin Hays might have been seen, treading the outward mazes of the cliff, and, without pausing at his mother's dwelling, approaching the spot where, on a former occasion, Burrell had received the signal for entrance from Hugh Dalton. He was ignorant of his mother's illness; but the information that Jack Roupall unwittingly communicated was not lost upon him; and he had earnestly scanned the waters, to see if the Fire-fly were off the coast. Though the gallant sparkling ship hardly hoisted the same colours twice in the same week, and though she had as many false figure-heads as there are days in January, yet Robin thought he never could be deceived in her appearance, and he saw at once, that though there were many ships in the offing, she certainly was not within sight of land. The feeling that he should look on Barbara no more was another source of agony to the unhappy Ranger. Yet he could hardly believe that the Buccaneer would so soon part with the beautiful form of a child he so dearly loved. He struck his own peculiar signal against the rock, and it was quickly answered by the Skipper himself, who extended his hand towards his friend with every demonstration of joy. Robin started at seeing the Buccaneer in so cheerful a mood, and was endeavouring to speak, when the other prevented his words from coming forth, by placing his hand on his lips. The Ranger's head grew dizzy--his knees smote against each other, and he gazed on Dalton's countenance, eager to ascertain if there was a possibility of hope, or if excess of grief had deranged his intellect. "Silence! silence! silence!" repeated the Buccaneer, in the subdued voice of a puny girl; and Robin thought his eye glared wildly as he spoke. "Where--where is she?" muttered Robin, leaning for support against a projecting stone, that served as one of the slides for the rough, but skilfully-managed doorway--his heart panting with anxiety to behold, and yet dreading to look upon the form of the dead Barbara. The Buccaneer pointed to where the skins had hung when Fleetword was in the chamber, and the Ranger attempted to move towards it; but his feet were as if rooted to the earth. Dalton watched his agitation with a curious eye; yet Robin perceived it not. He made several ineffectual attempts to stir from his position; but continued fixed in the same spot, unable to withdraw his gaze from the opening. At length the blood circulated more freely in his veins, his chest heaved, as if the exertion of breathing was an effort he could not long continue; and he staggered, as a drunken man, towards the entrance. The uncertainty of his step was such that he would have fallen into the chamber, had not the Buccaneer seized him within his powerful grasp, on the threshold of the inner chamber, and silently directed his attention towards a pile of cushions, covered with a variety of coloured silks and furs, on which lay a form he could not mistake. The hair, divested of its usual cap, rested in shadowy masses on the throat and bosom, and the light of the small lamp fell upon a cheek and brow white as monumental marble. By the side of this rude, yet luxurious couch, crouched another female, holding a fan, or rather a mass of superb ostrich feathers, which she moved slowly to and fro, so as to create a current of air within the cell. It contained one other inmate--the little and ugly Crisp--lying, coiled up, at the foot of the cushions, his nose resting between his small, rough paws; his eyes fixed upon his master, to hail whom he sprang not forward, as was his custom, with a right joyful and doggish salutation, but, mutely and quietly, wagged his dwarfish tail--so gently, that it would not have brushed off the down from a butterfly's wing. Robin grasped his hands convulsively together--shook back the hair that curled over his forehead, as if it prevented his seeing clearly--his breathing became still more painfully distinct--large drops of moisture burst upon his brow--his tongue moved, but he could utter no sound--his under lip worked in fearful convulsion--and, despite Dalton's efforts to restrain him, he sprang to the side of the couch with the bound of a red deer, and falling on his knees, succeeded in exclaiming,-- "She lives! she lives!" The sweet sleeper at once awoke; the long dark lashes separated, and the mild hazel eye of Barbara turned once more upon Robin Hays; a weak smile separated lips that were as white as the teeth they sheltered, as she extended her hand towards the Ranger. But, as if the effort was too much, her eyes again closed; and she would have looked as if asleep in death, but that Robin kissed her hand with a respectful feeling that would have done honour to men of higher breeding. The maiden blood tinged her cheek with a pale and gentle colour--the hue that tints the inner leaves of a blush rose. The Buccaneer had been a silent spectator of this scene, and it had taught him a new lesson--one, too, not without its bitterness. When Robin, with more discretion than could have been expected from him, silently withdrew into the outer room, he beheld Dalton standing in an attitude of deep and painful thought near its furthermost entrance. As the Ranger approached, his heart swelling with an overflowing of joy and gratitude--his head reeling with sensations so new, so undefinable, that he doubted if the air he breathed, the earth he trod on, was the same as it had been but an hour, a moment before--yet suffering still from previous agony, and receiving back Barbara as an offering from the grave, that might have closed over her;--as the Ranger approached the Buccaneer, in a frame of mind which it is utterly impossible to define, Dalton threw upon him a look so full of contempt, as he glanced over his diminutive and disproportioned form, that Robin never could have forgotten it, had it not passed unnoticed in the deep feeling of joy and thankfulness that possessed his whole soul. He seized the Skipper's hand with a warmth and energy of feeling that moved his friend again towards him. The generous heart is rarely indifferent to the generous-hearted. Dalton gave back the pressure, although he turned away the next moment with a heavy sigh. Ah! it is a common error with men to believe that women value beauty as much as it is valued by themselves. Such a feeling as that his daughter entertained for Robin Hays, Dalton, even in his later years, could no more understand than an eagle can comprehend the quiet affection of the cooing ring-dove for its partner: the one would glory in sailing with his mate in the light of the tropical sun, would scream with her over the agonies of a dying fawn, and dip the beaks of their callow young in blood; the other, nested in some gentle dell, the green turf beneath watered by a brook, rippling its cadences to his sweet, though monotonous, melody--would peel for his companion the husk from the ripening corn, and shadow his brood from the noonday heat. Yet the love of both is perfect, according to its kind. The time had been when, as Hugh Dalton walked on the deck of his bright Fire-fly, and counted the stars, guided the helm, or watched the clouds flitting past the disk of the silver moon, he thought that, if his pardon were granted, and he could bestow his ship upon one in the beauty and prime of manhood, who would take Barbara to his bosom, and call her by the hallowed name of "wife," he could lay his head upon his pillow, and die in peace, the grandsire of a race of sons, who would carry the name of Dalton honourably over the waves of many lands. He had never, in all his adventures, met with a youth who had gained so much upon his affections as the lad Springall. He knew him to be brave and honest, of a frank and generous nature, well calculated to win the heart of any maiden; and he had arranged for the youth's temporary residence at Cecil Place, at a time when he knew the baronet could not refuse aught that he demanded, with a view to forward a long-cherished design. "Barbara will see, and, I am sure, love him," quoth Dalton to himself: "how can it be otherwise? Matters may change ere long, and, if they do----. His family is of an old Kentish stock, well known for their loyalty, which, in truth, made the boy quit the canting ship, the Providence, when he met with a fitting opportunity. She cannot choose but love him; and even if, at the end of ten or twenty years, he should turn out a gentleman, he'll never scorn her then; for, faith, he could not; she is too like her mother to be slighted of mortal man!" And so he dreamed, and fancied, as scores of fathers have done before and since, that all things were going on rightly. When Springall held occasional communication with him, he never saw him tread the deck without mentally exclaiming, "What a brave skipper that boy will make! He has the very gait of a commander: the step free, yet careless; the voice clear as a warning bell; the eye keen, and as strong as an eagle's." Then he would look upon his ship, and, apostrophising her as a parent would a fondling child, continue,-- "Ah! your figure-head will be all the same when he has the command, and your flag will never change. You may double the Cape then without dread of a privateer; crowd sail beneath the great ship Argo, or be rocked by any land-breeze in Britain without dread of molestation. The lad may look, as I have often done, over the lee-gangway, during the morning watch, seeking the sight of the far off fleet--the fleet that will hail him as a friend, not a foe! And he will love every spar of your timber for the sake of old Dalton's daughter!" The feelings of the Buccaneer towards Robin Hays were of a very different nature. He loved and esteemed the manikin, and valued his ready wit and his extreme honesty. He was also gratified by the Ranger's skill in penmanship and book-learning, and took marvellous delight in his wild sea-songs; but, that he could look to be the husband of his daughter, had never for a moment entered his thoughts. Now, however, the unwelcome truth suddenly flashed upon him; there were signs and tokens that could not mislead: the fearful agitation of the one--the evident joy of the other--the flush that tinged her cheek, the smile that dwelt, but for a moment, upon her pallid lip, gave such evidence of the state of the maiden's heart, that Dalton could not waver in his opinion--could not for an instant doubt that all his cherished plans were as autumn leaves, sent on some especial mission through the air, when a whirlwind raves along the earth. To the Buccaneer it was a bitter knowledge; the joy that his daughter was of the living, and not among the dead, was, for the time, more than half destroyed by the certainty that she had thrown away the jewel of her affections upon one whom, in his wrath, Dalton termed a "deformed ape." The Buccaneer turned from the Ranger in heavy and heart-felt disappointment; then walked two or three times across the outward room, and then motioned Robin Hays to follow him up the stairs, leading to the back chamber of the small hostelry of the Gull's Nest Crag. CHAPTER VII. Good sir, look upon him-- But let it be with my eyes, and the care You should owe to your daughter's life and safety, Of which, without him, she's uncapable, And you'll approve him worthy. MASSINGER. The apartment which the Buccaneer selected as his place of conference was at some distance from, though on a line with, that which Fleetword had so unwillingly tenanted. Its entrance was by two doors, one of secret construction, leading to the stairs, the other opening into the passage that was frequented by all who were connected with the Fire-fly. "Now--now," said Robin, "tell--tell me, captain, how all the wonderful things of the past days have happened: it is a strange mystery, yet it was a horrid dream!" Dalton again sighed, but more heavily than before, as he replied, "My adventures are soon told. I had despatched to the Protector such documents as I knew would lead him to prevent the marriage of Lady Constantia; my heart relented towards her, and I saw that Providence was working its reed in other ways without my aid. Secreted in one of the chapel vaults, I watched the coming of those who were to stay the ceremony. I knew the certainty that come they would, for I could rely upon the speed of the man I trusted, and that Oliver would act upon the instant I had no doubt. I have long had my own plans of revenge against the villain Burrell, but they were too slow for one so perfect in iniquity. Robin! he would have murdered me on board my own ship. I listened for the tramp of the soldiers--gloating in my own mind over his disappointment, and exulting in his fall, thinking how his proud spirit would be brought low amid the crowded court! But they tarried--I could not hear the sound of their horses' hoofs--although within the old abbey chapel were the bride, the bridegroom--(curse him!)--and their attendants. Again I listened--the ceremony began--I sniffed the breeze like a war-steed--I heard them coming, but the Preacher was speaking the words, and they would arrive too late. All consideration for my own safety was lost in my longing for revenge, and, I will add, my deep desire to save the lamb from the tiger's fangs. I rushed towards the chapel--there was a pistol-shot--it gave speed to my steps. At the door I encountered Burrell; and he--he, the fiend, screamed into my ears that my child was slain!" Dalton and Robin Hays both shuddered, and some minutes had elapsed before the Buccaneer resumed his story. "I know not what I did, except that the place was filled with armed men, and the dastard Burrell commanded the fanatic Jones (I remembered him well) to seize me; moreover, he would have fired, I believe he did fire, but my memory is sadly confused. "Then Barbara, whose blood was streaming from her wound, sprang to my bosom--sweet girl!--and hung, as I thought, a corpse upon my arm. When I looked upon her pallid cheeks and livid lips, I could have braved a thousand deaths sooner than have left her to be buried in their black and filthy clay; and I spoke from my heart to them, and I think Lady Constantia spoke too; and they let us pass, me and my dead child! "I carried her round the chapel, and sank with her into the vault, where I had been concealed--that which contains the passage leading up to Minster, and then sloping down the hill; and I placed my daughter on the ground and closed the entrance, as we have ever done. And then I sat on the earth and raised her head and shoulders on my knees, and loosening her kerchief to look at the wound, which I had no doubt had been inflicted by the Jewess Zillah--shall I ever forget the sensation!--I cannot describe it, so different from anything I ever felt--ever can feel:--her bosom was warm, as the fleece of a young unshorn lamb, and her heart palpitated within it." The rugged Buccaneer covered his face with his hands, and Robin, in a voice which strong emotion rendered almost inarticulate, said,---- "I know what must have been your feelings from what I myself felt so short a time past." Hugh Dalton slowly withdrew his broad palms from his countenance, and looking somewhat sternly on the Ranger, replied, "Young man, that you love my daughter, I have seen but too plainly; and I take it ill that you told me not of it before." Robin would have interrupted,--but he motioned him to remain silent. "We will talk of it hereafter;--only this--you may love her, but you cannot love her with a parent's love. It is as deep as it is mysterious; it comes with the first look a father casts upon his babe; the infant, which to the whole world seems a mis-shapen, an unpleasant thing to look upon, to him is a being of most perfect beauty--the hope--the prop--the stay of his future life. Upon that weak, helpless, inanimate creature, his heart leans--the heart of the strongest man leans upon it. The world holds out no promise to tempt him like the well-doing of his child. It is a wonderful mystery," continued the Buccaneer, reverently uncovering his head, as men do when they are about to enter a place of worship; "it is most wonderful, the holy love which comes upon us, for the simple, senseless, powerless things, that fill us with so much hope, and strength, and energy! I saw a whale once, who, when her young one was struck by the harpoon, came right between it and the ship, and bore the blows, and took the fatal weapons again and again into her bleeding body; and when she was struggling in her flurry, and the sea around was dyed as red as scarlet, still she tried to save her offspring, and managed so as to die lying over it. It was the very time that I was bringing my own girl to England--a little creature, sleeping in my bosom--and it was by a vessel in our company the poor whale was killed; for I would not suffer one of my men to have a hand in such a sickening job:--but I never forgot it--never--how she lay over her young, shielding it to the last with her own body! I used to pray--I could pray whenever I took my Barbara into my arms!--I thought it a duty then to pray for her, and I trusted that she would hereafter pray for me. Had I always her sweet face to look upon, I should be free from many a crime!--It is a beautiful mystery, I say again; and no one but myself, young man, can ever tell what I felt when I knew that she was yet alive! As soon as I had sufficiently collected my senses, I examined the wound. Often had I looked on blood; and wounds were familiar to me, as blackberries to a schoolboy; but I trembled from head to foot, as if I had never seen either. The ball had made its own way out under the shoulder; and, as consciousness was fast returning, I endeavoured to staunch the stream, which flowed so copiously that I began to dread the destruction of my newly raised hopes. While I was thus occupied, I heard so deeply drawn a sigh from some one close to me, that I started back, and was horrified at seeing the source of all the evil--the Jewess Zillah--pale as ashes, standing by my side. I cursed her with a wicked curse, and was about to inflict instant, but most unjust punishment. The unfortunate creature prostrated herself at my feet, and explained, as briefly as her sobs permitted, that, enraged at Burrell's treachery--finding herself deserted by Fleetword, whose faith she relied upon--imagining that Mistress Cecil was leagued against her, from the circumstance of her never taking notice of the communications she wrote and confided to Jeromio's care--wrought up, in fact, to a pitch of frenzy, she determined on destroying Burrell's destined bride, whose appearance she had confounded with that of my poor Barbara! Nothing could exceed her penitence. She had groped her way to the secret entrance into the tomb. It had been revealed to her by the traitor Jeromio. She returned with us after nightfall to this horrid place; and has ever since watched my poor child with the earnestness and care of a most devoted sister. I am astonished how she escaped Sir Willmott's vengeance. He was so hemmed in by difficulties, that he had no power to act, though he tried hard for it. The villain Jeromio----" "I heard of that," interrupted Robin; "Roupall told me all: he met me but a little time past in the Fox Glen; and there, too, I saw the traitor's head, with the ravens feasting on their prey!" "Ah! ah!" exclaimed Dalton, "is that the way Sir Willmott treats his wedding present! The Fox Glen is beneath his chamber window; so I suppose he cantered it out to find its own grave in the grassy hollow." "Is this Barbara's father!" thought Robin, "and the man who would not kill a cub-whale?--How wonderful! how strange his modifications of feeling: the older he grows, the more incomprehensible he becomes." Robin then detailed the particulars of his journey since he left the Gull's Nest, which, as we are already acquainted with them, need not be repeated here, and raised himself considerably in the Buccaneer's estimation by his attention, shrewdness, and, above all, by the account he gave of his interview with Cromwell. "I believe it, Rob, I believe it--I am sure you would not betray me! But I fear we must abandon this place--this and all others of a similar description. I knew that as soon as internal commotions ceased, old Noll would root us out. He will set Burrell on the trail, if he can get no other informer; for he has never been too great not to make use of filthy tools to effect his purpose. He had been here long ago but that he dislikes to employ such troops as he has trained in hunting up moles and water-rats. Yet he thinks it a disgrace to his policy not to know all things, even the hiding-holes along the coast. There's good nesting in the Cornish cliffs; but I have done with it, pardon or no pardon. Sir Robert Cecil's gone mad, and I have a game to play there still. What you tell me of Walter is most strange; yet I feel certain he is safe, and my course, in reference to him, must be guided by the events that a very few hours will doubtless produce. Cromwell--Roundhead and rebel as he is--unless he be marvellously changed--has generosity enough to guarantee the youth's safety, were he a thousand times more dangerous than he can be. Whatever may be my fate, his will be a happy one. They may leave me to rot upon a gibbet, so he and my sweet Barbara are safe." "But," observed Robin, "I dread no such peril for you. Even if danger awaits you in England, there are other lands--" "Ah! but my child--my child! Shall I leave her among strangers, or take her into a world that will rob her of her wealth--innocence?" "Gold will do much; there are many about the court of Oliver who love the yellow colour and the pleasant chink of coin." "No, I have other and stronger means of buying mercy. But mercy is not all I want--I sometimes think, that were I to walk up to Whitehall, banned as I am, Cromwell would not touch a hair of my head. I would say, 'God direct me for the best!' only I fear He has no thought of me, except for my girl's sake: and, Robin, touching her, I must again say, that----" Whatever the Buccaneer would have added, Springall's entrance at the moment prevented. He seemed delighted at meeting Robin, and inquired in the same breath if he had been with his mother. Robin said, "No." Springall then told him she was ill--fancied herself dying, and that, as the old dame seemed so wishful to see Mistress Cecil, saying she had something important to communicate to her, he had gone up to Cecil Place, and found a strange messenger to do his bidding. Robin needed no urging to seek his mother, whom he tenderly loved; and when he had left the room, the Buccaneer could not help observing, that a parent's first thoughts after a journey are with the child, but that a child does not always first fly to the parent: "And yet," pursued Dalton, "the boy loves his mother!" "Captain o' mine," said the ever-joyous and affectionate sailor, who deserved the attachment bestowed upon him by the skipper--"Captain o' mine, I have news for you. You see, I sailed right for the old port, and just as I was going to steer into harbour, I spied one of the steel-caps lounging about the great gate, and peeping through the bars like a lion that would and couldn't; but I knew he was one who could if he would, and though I had a message for Mistress Cecil, yet I didn't see the good of trusting him; and so I crowded sail to-leeward into the Green Cave, and on under the arch that has openings enough; but no one could I see until I was just by the church at Minster, when, on the look-out, I got a glimpse of a sail, and suspecting it to be something in the privateer line, I hove-to and used my trumpet, and who should it turn out to be but the young Cromwell! and I couldn't for the life of me help hoisting false colours and dealing in the spirit line; so she took me for a ghost when I delivered Mother Hays's message to Mistress Constantia: then she blew out like a nor'-wester, and flouted, and called names; and what else do ye think she did? By Jove, she shouted, 'Below there!--turn out the guard!' and stamped her little foot. Never trust me, if her ankle isn't as neatly turned as the smoothest whistle that ever hung from a boatswain's neck! After a while she said something about jugglery, and I called her a little Roundhead; and, to be sure, how she did stamp! Then presently down tumbled Mistress Maud from the steeple, where, I guess, she had been making observations, and Lady Frances rated the waiting-maid soundly, which I didn't grudge her--the frippery, insolent baggage! It isn't a month since she called me a chip of the jib-boom and an ugly fellow!--Ugly fellow, indeed;" repeated Springall, twitching up his trowsers--"I wonder what she meant by ugly fellow!" "So do I," said the Skipper, with a sigh; for his mind was still 'harping on his daughter:' "So do I, but women have strange fancies. Let me now ask you what news you have, for I cannot see how this concerns me." "Let me read my log my own way, or I cannot read it at all--and you know, master, I never spin a long yarn, except when I can't help it." Dalton smiled, for, of all the youths he had ever known, Springall loved the most to hear himself talk. "When I had delivered my message, and had the satisfaction of knowing that a rascally Roundhead, and a princess (as they call her,) was employed in doing my bidding," continued the lad, "I tacked about, and loitered along, looking at the queer tackling of the hedges, and the gay colours hoisted by the little flowers, and wondering within myself how any one would like to be confined to the land with its hills and hollows, where it's the same, same thing, over and over again; when I spied two steel caps and a gentleman in black steering along the road to Cecil Place. So I thought it would be only civil to go with them, seeing they were strangers; but I did not care to let them spy me, so I anchored in the hedge till they came up, and then crept along--along, on the other side, like a tortoise, and as slowly too, faith! for the road is so bad they were forced to lead their horses, except the black one, who, I found, was the Protector's own doctor going to cure Sir Robert Cecil! What do you think of that, captain?" Dalton saw no necessity for reply, and Springall continued:-- "I gathered from their talk that Cromwell himself was on the road, coming bodily to inquire into the murder, (as they supposed,) and to rout out the smugglers; and the rascals were even talking about the prizes, having heard the place was full of riches; and they said they were sure that more than one thing brought his Highness such a journey. At every stumble their horses made, the psalm-singing scoundrels offered up an ejaculation. May I never reef a sail, captain, if they didn't pray more, going that length of road, than you, and I, and all the crew of the Fire-fly put together, have prayed during the last twelve, ay, twice twelve months!--How is Mistress Barbara?" "What a giddy mind is yours, Springall," said Dalton; "in the same breath you speak of danger, and ask for my peace-loving child." "More than she would do for me," replied the boy, sulkily, adding, with some of the wisdom of matured manhood, "she must not remain here, though, no, not another night, for who knows what those rascals would be at? I am much inclined to think with the crop-eared fellows, that his Highness (the devil take such highnesses, say I!) would never lay to windward and trust himself on the island, unless he had good reason to think he could kill two, ay, ten birds with one stone; he is too old a man now to go dancing about the country because of a murder, or a wedding--neither of which he cares much about." "Except when they come home--quite home--and Mistress Constantia is to him like an own child. There's a deal of difference in the colour of our own blood and that of other people. But we must see to it, Springall, and without delay. The Fire-fly is, as you know, tricked out like a Dutch lugger, masts--sails--all! I defy even Robin Hays to know her; and I had a report spread at Sheerness and Queenborough that she had the plague aboard. Tom o' Coventry, and another o' the lads have talked of nothing else at the hostelries; and not an hour ago I sent a message to Jabez Tippet, with a three gallon memorandum of the best Nantz, so that he might prate of it to all who crossed the Ferry. Her cargo is nearly discharged, and there are but four men aboard; they walk the deck by two, as sentries, to keep up the deception; but evil is in the wind when the Protector is stirring. I should have got her out, far out before, had I not been obliged to move her backwards and forwards, owing to the cursed mischances of the times; and, Springall, I am not the man I was." "Look, captain!" said the boy, energetically; "I would rather set a torch to the powder-chest of that gay ship, than have her turned into a Roundhead. Didn't I with my own eyes see a lubberly rascal take a chisel, or some o' their land tools, and shave every lock of hair off the figure-head of the 'Royal Charles,' and even off the beard, shorten the nose into a stub, and then scrawl under it, 'The blessed change; this regenerated vessel will be known hereafter as the Holy Oliver'? Wasn't that blasphemy? Come, captain, rouse yourself; let's call a council--there's little Robin Hays, he loves her timbers as he loves his life--there's the boatswain, and a lot of honest hands. Let's ship the ballast--the women I mean--and off for the Americees. Let them blow Gull's Nest to the devil, if they like; so our trim ship is safe, what need we care? Ill luck is in the land to any who touch it, save to put off a rich cargo or take in fresh water." Dalton shook his head, and his heart sank within him; his mind becoming more and more perplexed, when he remembered the two helpless females who depended on him--the one for life, the other for justice--his own desire for pardon, too, struggling with his affection for his vessel. He paced the room for a few moments, and then, accompanied by the animated and daring young sailor, sallied forth in search of Robin Hays, having first resolved that the preacher Fleetword should be sent to keep watch by the bedside of the dying woman. CHAPTER VIII. E'en such is Time; which takes in trust Our youth, our joys, and all we have; And pays us nought but age and dust, Which in the dark and silent grave, When we have wander'd all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. Robin, when he quitted the Buccaneer, proceeded not towards his mother's house, but again entered the chamber in which Barbara lay: he paused, and listened to ascertain if she again slept. He heard no sound, and at length ventured to divide the drapery, and look within. The motion, slight as it was, was noticed by the gentle maid, who beckoned with her finger, and her lover was in an instant by her side. "I shall be well--soon well again, Robin," she murmured; "and I know you will be glad when I am so." Robin made no reply, but stood wondering at the exceeding beauty of the beloved object that lay upon that strange, but not ungraceful couch. He had heretofore only seen Barbara in the oddly-fashioned dress, and with the humble bearing of a servant; but now, reclining on piles of skins and velvets, her hair falling in unconstrained and untutored profusion over her white throat, and shrouding her slight figure, she seemed to him the embodying of all he had ever imagined as belonging to the exquisite creatures of other worlds. Sour and sarcastic as he was, there were few in that age who had more frequently dreamed of the pure and holy beings that people the imagination of richly-endowed minds. Solitude is the nurse of all that is good within us. The world stains what it touches; and the more we withdraw from it, the better we become. Robin knew much of its wickedness; but, fortunately, had ever sufficient leisure and sufficient loneliness for reflection. Never tell us, that a man can walk beneath the rainbow's arch, and not think of the power that placed it there! that he can stand on the tall cliff's peak, and not drink in the fullness of God's exceeding glory--that he can hear the small lambs bleat, or inhale the perfume of the hawthorn, without thankfulness to the great Author of all! Devoid of any thing like a settled creed, he still had many vague, yet sublime conceptions of the mightiness and the goodness of a Power that fills the universe with His presence. Many there are with such belief; and many, whose hearts aspire to a more defined and intimate knowledge of the Great Fountain of Life; and for lack of opportunity--for want of proper direction, either plunge amid the pitfalls and quagmires of infidelity, or are lost amid the equally dangerous fallacies of various and contradictory interpretations of the same perfect and beautiful creed. Happy was it for the Ranger that she he so truly loved was religious in its purest and simplest sense--gifted with that gentle and holy wisdom, which instructed her in the honest rule of right, and rendered her unobtrusively impervious to temptation. "I shall be soon well again," she repeated; "and do not look so sadly on me, Robin; indeed I shall soon be well." "Thank God for that, Barbara!" he replied. "I bless God that it is so!" "Robin! Do you really mean that you do thank God: is it your heart, or your lips that speak?" "As God sees me, I think that both speak, Barbara." "Then," said the girl, "I bless God more for that than for the saving of my life. I pray daily for those to whom I owe much; but for you and my father I say double prayers." "Because you think we need them doubly?" inquired the Ranger, smiling. "Even so; for since I have lain here, not being able to talk much with that kind stranger, who has more than atoned for what she did by her present goodness to me, I have had time for reflection; and--and--I have prayed very much for you, Robin Hays." "Perhaps," said the Ranger, (his strong and turbulent feelings struggling painfully in his bosom,) "perhaps, Barbara, your prayers are all you mean to give me?" "Robin," replied the maiden, while a flush passed over her pale cheek, "you are often unjust; but I forgive it: for you are abroad in the world, which, I believe, makes people unkind. And yet I did not mean you were unkind, Robin. Now do not turn away so strangely. I would give the life that has been so lately restored to me, that your faith was as my faith,--that your God was my God." The Ranger fell on his knees by the side of the couch, and clasping his hands energetically together, replied, not in a loud, but in a low, earnest tone,-- "Barbara, teach me your faith, and I will learn it--learn any thing from your lips: I will cast aside my waywardness--my nature shall be changed--I will become gentle as a babe. And as to your God, I am no heathen, Barbara, but an Englishman, and all so born know there is but One to worship!" "Ay, but One," replied the gentle and thoughtful girl; "yet a wild, reckless temper like yours is ever verging to idolatry, to the formation of many gods. Do you not worship Mammon when you risk body and soul to procure ill-gotten gold?" "Reformation is the work of time, and there will be time for it, Barbara, when you are better. I will sit during the whole length of the Sabbath-days, winter and summer all the same, from sunrise to sunset, and listen to the word of God: I will not speak, I will not look except to you, and you shall read to me from the beginning to the end, and explain, and pray: and even on week-days I will hear it for one hour each evening, from Monday till Saturday, week after week, till I understand what you expound. Will not that improve me, Barbara?" A smile, succeeded by an expression of much anxiety, passed over her innocent countenance, and then she spoke. "God knows, Robin, that I have much trouble--my father, I see, I feel, loves his ship better than any earthly thing; and though it would anger him to know it, yet I do wish from my heart the vessel would fade from the waters as a shadow from the green hill's side. He will never become a staid man--never set his heart on things above--never either be happy, or make me so, until no plank floats upon ocean that calls him master. Ah me, Robin! Mistress Cecil used to say that age brought wisdom; and, if so, methinks wisdom brings sorrow." It was some minutes before the Ranger offered any comment on her words. At length he assured her how fully he agreed in believing that Dalton would be much more happy if his ship "faded," as she termed it, "from the waters; and yet," he added, "it would be as the separating of soul and body!" "A fearful separation that would indeed be, and one I could not bear to think on. Ah, Robin! I felt death in a dream once, and once almost in reality;--and yet my dear father, he is the soul, and the ship the body--the worthless body that ties him to the earth!" "And has Barbara no little fable of her own to make that come out prettily?" "Ah, Robin! I think of fables, as you call them, as much as ever, but am not able to speak them now; so, good b'ye, Robin, and let not the promise you have made me be like the flower of the wild rock-rose, which blooms and blights within a single day. When we indeed sit together, and read and pray, remember the pledge you have now given freely to one who will labour to make you happy all the day long." Robin again pressed his lips upon her hand, and left the chamber with feelings of deep joy and gratitude that mock description. He had, however, to witness a scene of a nature very different. The last interview between him and his mother was brief, for duties towards those who lived could scarcely yield their influence even to those which the dying claimed at his hands. The kind and affectionate heart of the Ranger was chilled as he entered the small and scantily-furnished chamber in which his mother lay, suffering in body, but still more in mind. Had her son been a ministering angel, she could not have welcomed him with greater joy, although her eyes were dim, and her voice was almost inarticulate as she pressed her shrivelled lips to his cheek. "Raise me up, Robin--Robin--and move that chest on my right. Gently, gently, Robin; it contains much that will make you rich when I am gone. It would have been hard if the poor widow had not her tithe out of those who came and went. I have sent for Mistress Cecil, but she has not come: she thinks little about the lone widow of the Crag." "Mother," replied Robin, "her own troubles are many." "Ah! she knows not what secrets are in the old woman's keeping. She comes not, and I have a story to tell that would be as poison to her--ay, to body and soul! You must hear it, Robin, if no one else will. But, first, hand me a drink of the strong waters. Ah, that will put fresh life into me! Let the preachers preach their fill, nothing rouses one like the strong waters!" Robin did as she desired, but with evident unwillingness. "Many years have gone," she continued, "yet, to the aged, many years appear as yesterday. I was sitting by the door of this very cottage, which had just been made public--for your poor father--(honest man that he was, far above your mother in wisdom and goodness)--your poor father, I say, had been drowned the winter before, and I was obliged to do something to keep the children, and so thought of making the cottage a public; well--I sat at the door, and you were in my arms." The aged woman's mind appeared to wander for a few moments, as if she was calling her thoughts from a long distance. "It was night, dark, dark night, and many runagades had been about the coast all day trafficking and trading and smuggling, and the gentry helping them, for things were not strict then:--it was pitch dark, with now and then a gleam of light from a bright cloud; and there came towards me a gentleman I knew full well--a gallant, handsome gentleman: he stood upon the rock that hangs over the sea, where the sea is ever wildest. Presently some of the strange-looking men joined him, and they talked and talked, though I heard them not, for the wind was whistling around me, and I was watching you asleep." The woman again paused, but soon resumed her story. "Well, as I was saying, they talked; but soon I heard a cry through the storm, and the next minute there was a gleam of light--I saw him struggling; but darkness fell again, and on a sudden, while you would clap your hands, came a scream for help. O God! O God! I hear it now!--now I hear it!--Robin, another drink of the strong waters, that will silence it!" "Mother," said the Ranger, as he held the cup which her skinny fingers were extended to grasp, while her parched lips clanked against each other impatient of moisture--"Mother, take but little for you have need of prayer; that will stifle the cry far better than this." "And I will pray," returned the woman, "when my tale is finished. There was but that one loud, loud scream, and a heavy splash in the ocean, and with it the darkness again passed: but, Robin Hays, Robin Hays, the men had passed too, and one of them returned no more! And why did he not? He had broad and fair lands, such as make people cling to their own country, but he came not back. Soon after, I heard the noise of oars, and--mind your mother now, Robin,--another man came to the cliff--to the brow of the same cliff--I saw him look down, and along the waves, and, all of a sudden, a pistol flash from the boat sprang through the darkness, and he who came last stood while you could count ten, and passed away. But mind again, Robin, he came with a weak step, and he went as a strong man." Robin shuddered; his mother after a brief pause continued. "Now, who think you, Robin--my child, Robin, who think you was the murdered man--and who think you was he who came last, and saw the murderers departing in peace--who? I will tell it, before my breath is for ever stopped: the one was Robert Cecil, and the other his father's son, the first-born of his own mother!" "Oh God!" exclaimed Robin, adding in a muttering tone, "I see through it all, the hold that Dalton has over the wretched, wicked man! But could Dalton do this?" "Did you say any thing of Dalton?" inquired Mother Hays, whose quickness of hearing appeared increased; "it was his ship that was off the coast, though I could not swear he was himself there. Such things, I have heard, were often done in those wild times, and it made a noise then, and Sir Robert seemed like one mad about his brother; though people did whisper, for they were set against one another to the knowledge of all, and of different parties. And in time the lands all fell to him; and the Parliament since, I heard, made out, that Sir Herbert, being a friend to the king, even if he were alive, shouldn't have his own, which was all made over to the present man. But, as sure as there is a God, so sure He is just! Is it not plain? Of all the fine boys his lady bore him, not one is left! And, as to the daughter, look, if she knew as much of Sir Willmott Burrell as I do, she'd make her night-posset with the mermaids before she'd wed him. Well, Robin, Sir Herbert had once a son--an only son, and, as his lady died in childbed, Sir Robert's wife had taken great delight in the boy, and brought him up with her own children; and a pretty boy it was, so fond of the sea! He would sit for an hour together on my knee, and always called me nurse, and used to play with you as if you were his equal, and call Mistress Cecil, that now is, his wife! Sweet lamb that he was! Robin, Robin, he went too; how, I never knew, but I guess: the murderer of the father thought he should be more safe if the boy was away, and he pretended grief, and his poor lady felt it. Now it is of that boy I would have spoken to Mistress Cecil, for my heart misgives me--" Farther communication was interrupted by the entrance of Constantia's maid, who came to ascertain if the widow Hays were really dying. "My lady has trouble enough of her own, the Lord knows; but she will leave watching by the bed-side of my poor distraught master, if she can render any aid." "Robin, raise me up," exclaimed the dying woman, with a gesture of great impatience; "raise me up, Robin, and push the hair from my ears, that I may hear distinctly. Did you mean, young woman[,] that Sir Robert was distraught--mad?" "Alack! yes," replied the girl; "mad, poor gentleman!" "It is enough--enough--enough! I knew it would come in some shape; yet madness must be mercy to him!" Having so said, she sank back, while the serving wench stood in astonishment: and at length inquired, "What she meant?" "She raves," was Robin's reply, drawing the girl out of the chamber: "give my humble duty to your lady, and tell her that the son of Mother Hays is with her, and that she lacks nothing the world can give her now." As the girl departed, Springall came to the door. "Robin Hays! you must leave even your dying mother--something must be determined on. He is come! Listen to the guns at Sheerness, telling the island who has touched the soil on this side of the ferry." Robin stood for a moment at the porch, and heard the booming of cannon heavily passing through the air, traversing the low downs, and roaring from crag to crag, as if rejoicing in liberty; the ships that lay out at sea sent forth a reply, and in a moment their flags were waving in the wind. Robin returned for a moment to his mother's room. "Mother," he said, "for one hour I must leave you, but I will send some one to watch by your bed-side. Pray to God, a God of mercy, who has but lately opened my heart: pray to Him, and He will answer. I will be with you soon--a hundred lives may rest upon that hour!" His mother appeared scarcely conscious of what he said, but with her finger pointed to the chest. A new, but a most unwelcome light had broken in upon the mind of the unhappy Ranger. The father of his beloved Barbara he had long known to be a reckless and a daring man, with the stains of many crimes upon his soul; but he had now the terrible knowledge that the Buccaneer was a cold-blooded and hired assassin, who for gold, for there could have been no other temptation---- The thought was perfect agony, yet the Ranger resolved to face the man he at once loved and dreaded, and boldly charge him with the act his parent in her dying moments had communicated. "It will all be known," he thought; "there can be no pardon for the murderer--no peace for Barbara--the sinless child of sin!" CHAPTER IX. Mainly they all att once about him laid, And sore beset on every side arownd, That nigh he breathless grew: yet nought dismaid He ever to them yielded foot of grownd. SPENSER. Robin followed Springall into the room he had so recently left, and stood at the entrance; fixing at the same time his eyes, which, it must be confessed, were of unrivalled brilliancy and blackness, upon the Buccaneer, he said-- "Captain, I would speak a few words with you in private, after which we will talk of the danger that surrounds us." Dalton and Robin withdrew together, and remained alone for more than twenty minutes, during which Springall and three or four others of the crew, who had crowded, like crows into a rookery in dread of an approaching storm, debated upon and formed plans for the safety of their vessel. "Were all hands aboard," said Springall, whose youth joyed in perpetual hope--"were we all aboard, I would undertake to pilot that vessel over and under or through any one or any number of ships between Sheerness and Chatham!" "Through their hulks, do you mean?" inquired Jack Roupall, who had but just joined the party. "I don't pretend to speak grammar or book-English, Jack," retorted the young sailor, "no more than yourself; but all who have ever sailed in the Fire-fly, as both you and I have done, know her quality, and that anything can be made of her: I tell you, every beam of her timbers has life in it--every spar is a spirit!" "What sort of spirit?--Is it rum, brandy, or Hollands?" inquired Roupall, who could see no more value in the timbers of the Fire-fly than in those of any other ship that carried a good cargo. Springall's enthusiasm was wasted on him; but it was followed by a reply from the hot-headed lad that would have led to more than words, if another of the party had not interfered. "For shame, Spring, to be so fiery! Sure you know of old, that Jack will have his joke, and means no harm. Besides, he's only a land-lubber, after all." "Well, pepper away, brave boys! pepper away! I'll have my revenge on you all yet!" continued the trooper. "You won't inform, will you?" exclaimed Springall, ever ready for a fray, pushing his beardless face close to the weather-beaten countenance of sturdy Roupall. "Will you keep your face out of my mouth?" replied the man-mountain, stretching his jaws at the same time, and displaying a double row of the most enormous teeth, and a gulf which really looked as if it could contain the animated countenance of the young sailor, who, as easily moved to mirth as anger, burst into a merry laugh at the prospect before him. "There, boy," said the Goliath, "take it easy, and talk reason about the ship, and talk the reason reasonably, and I'll join ye; but Spring has a dash o' poetry about him--I think it's called poetry:--verse-making and verse-thinking, that never did anything in the way of ship-building or ship-saving since the world was a world, that I know. Now look, lads; here's a man-a-war, a heavy, sluggish thing, whose guns could take no effect on the Fire-fly, because their shot would go right over her, and only anger the waters. Her long boats, to be sure, could do the business; but she has no more than two and the captain's gig a-board--as I heard this morning at Queenborough. The evening is closing, and neither of the other ships--whose slovenly rigging wants Blake's dressing--hae any guns a-board to signify." "Ay," said another, "so much for our near neighbours: what say you to our farther ones, at t'other side the island--just at the entrance to the Mersey?" "Say!" said Springall, "why, that they could be round in less than no time if they knew who's who." "Which they do by this: what else would bring the steel caps, and the Devil himself amongst us? besides, there's others off the coast, as well as we. Do you think old red-nosed Noll would come here about a drop of blood--a little murder, that could be settled at the 'sizes? There's something brooding in another direction, that 'ill set his hot blood boiling: but as it's purely political, all honest men, who have the free-trade at heart, will keep clear of it. May be he's heard the report that black-browed Charlie's thinking of pushing on this way,--though I don't believe it; it's too good to be true: it would soon make us tune up 'Hey for Cavaliers!' and bring the old days back again." "But let us," chimed in Springall--"let us keep clear of every thing of the sort till our ship's safe. Why, in half an hour they might split her spars as small as jack-straws!" "Which they won't, I think; because, if they know who she is, they know her cargo's safe--where Noll himself can't get at it, unless he drags the cellars--and the stomachs too, by this time--of half his prayer-loving subjects along the Kent and Essex coast." "Stuff, stuff! every enemy destroyed is a shade nearer safety," said Springall; "and Noll knows it." "That's well said, Spring," replied Jack, winking on his companion; "and I'll tell you what's true, too, shall I?" "Ay, ay." "Young geese are the greatest cacklers." "I'll tell you what," retorted the lad, drawing himself up with some dignity, and reddening to the eyes, "I may be but a boy; but have the goodness to remember, that every oak was a sapling, and every sapling an acorn. If men trample on the acorn, it will never grow to be the oak; for, little as it is, the spirit of the oak is in it.--D'ye read my riddle?" A good-humoured burst of approbation followed Springall's speech, which was hushed by some one of the party saying, "Here comes our Captain, and we can form no plan till he is present." The door accordingly opened after the hand, applied at last to the latch, had evidently wandered over the panel, seeking the fastening which at first it could not discover, and making outside a noise resembling the scratching of a cat. No race of beings so decidedly differ from every other in the world as sailors: no matter whether they belong to a king's ship, to a smuggler, or a merchantman. Though there may be shades among them, yet the grand distinction between men of the sea and men of the land endures,--it is impossible to confound them together. A seaman is ever so easily amused, so reckless of consequences, so cheerful amid difficulties, so patient under privations. His blue jacket is a symbol of enterprise and good humour. Even his nondescript hat--black, small, and shining as a japanned button, adhering to the back of his head by a kind of supernatural agency, with which landsmen are unacquainted--can never be seen by a true-born Englishman without feelings of gratitude and affection, which, at all events, no other hat in the world can command. Although the crew of the Fire-fly would have been looked upon by your genuine seaman as a set of half-castes, which they really were, yet they had, if possible, more recklessness of character than ever belonged to any number of persons so congregated together; they had so often jested at, and with death, in all its shapes, that it was little more than pastime; and they had in their own persons experienced so many hairbreadth 'scapes that they looked upon Springall's great and very natural anxiety for the fate of the ship he loved, as a species of madness which a little experience would soon cure him of. The elder ones certainly knew that there was little use in their forming plans or projects, as their commander would as usual adopt his own, and adhere to them without their council or approval. It must be confessed that lately they regarded his lying so constantly off so exposed a coast, a proof of want of energy and forethought they had never noticed before; but his prompt punishment of Jeromio had set his character again on a firm footing; for, as Roupall said; "It proved that the Captain was still himself." When the door of the room in which they were assembled was opened, instead of the Skipper, the long, lanky figure of the Reverend Jonas Fleetword presented itself in the opening; his coat and hose unbrushed, his pinnacle hat standing at its highest, and his basket-hilted sword dangling from the belt carelessly and rudely fastened. Those of the men who had been sitting, stood up, while others rushed forward. Some laid their hands upon his shoulders, and all demanded whence he came, and what he wanted. Poor Fleetword had long since arrived at the conclusion that he had unconsciously committed some crime, for which he was doomed to much suffering in the flesh: first imprisoned, and destined to endure starvation at the hands of Sir Willmott Burrell; then fed, but caged like an animal, by one whom he denominated "a man of fearful aspect, yea, of an angry countenance and fierce deportment, yet having consideration for the wants of the flesh;" then, when he had been liberated as he thought, for the express purpose of affording consolation to, and praying with a dying woman, and bound by his sacred word not to leave Gull's Nest, he found himself in the midst of the most unamiable-looking persons he had ever seen assembled; and his pale eye grew still more pale within its orbit from the effects of terror. "Cut him down!" exclaimed one ruffian, drawing a cutlass, long and strong enough to destroy three at a blow. "Fill his pinnacle hat with gunpowder, and blow him to the devil!" said another. "He is a spy and a Roundhead," vociferated a third, "and, wherever there's one, there's sure to be more o' the breed." "Search his pockets," shouted a fourth; "I'll lay my hand there's villany in them." "I'm the best at that work," exclaimed Jack Roupall, spinning the long-legged preacher round and into the midst of the men before he had time to utter a syllable of explanation. The change produced on them by this display of Roupall's dexterity was like magic, for, in an instant, they were to a man convulsed with laughter: the poor preacher retained most motley marks of the bruised oranges upon his hinder garments, which were, moreover, rent by various falls, or, as he would designate them, "perilous overthrows;" and there was something so ludicrous in his whole appearance, spinning on one leg, (for he was obliged to keep up the other to maintain his balance,) and looking more like an overgrown insect, called by children "daddy long-legs," than any other creature dwelling upon earth, that the mirthfulness of the sailors might well have been pardoned. "Children of Satan!" he said at last, recovering his breath during their laughter--"Imps of darkness!" he added, holding out both hands in front, as he would keep them from contaminating him by their touch--"if that ye ever hope for pardon----" "I told ye he was a Roundhead--a negotiator," shouted one of the rudest; "stop his gab at once--yard-arm him." "Peace, peace!" interrupted young Springall; "he is part of our skipper's cargo, a harmless mad preacher, and no spy; he'd talk to ye by the hour, and make as rare sport as a mass-service at Lisbon--if ye hadn't something else to think of." "Hear him, hear him!" exclaimed the thoughtless fellows, who forgot their own and their ship's danger in expectation of some revelry. "Hear him," repeated Roupall, while occupied in searching his pockets. "Albeit I was not sent unto ye, ye worthless, blasphemous, and accursed crew--" began Fleetword. "Above there!" sung out a little one-eyed seaman, squinting up at our friend, and poising a long lath so as to arrest his attention by a smart blow across the knees, which made the poor man elevate first one limb and then the other, in what soldiers term 'double quick time.' "Keep a civil tongue in your head," he added, threatening to renew the salute. "For shame, Tom o' Coventry," said Springall, who had more generosity in his nature; "if you don't behave, I'll spit ye as neatly as ever top-mast studding sail was spitted on the broken stump of a boom in a smart gale,--d'ye hear that, master officer--that was--but is not?" This insult could not be received quietly, because it was deserved, and the diminutive sailor applied the weapon to Master Springall's shins, so as to set his hot blood raving for encounter. Fleetword heeded not this, but rejoicing sincerely in any event that gave him opportunity of speech, proceeded to anathematize the whole assembly as confidently as if he had been the pope's legate. Roupall, having finished his investigation of Fleetword's pockets, advanced one step, and, taking Tom o' Coventry by the collar, shook him and Springall apart as if they had been two puppy dogs, while the others bawled loudly for fair play. At this instant the door opened, and Dalton strode into the midst of them with that lordly step and dignified aspect he could so well, not only assume, but preserve; even Fleetword was silenced, when the Skipper, turning to him, demanded how he came there, and if he had forgotten that a dying woman had solicited his aid. "Of a truth," he replied, "I mistook the apartment: ye cannot suppose, most worthy commander of this enchanted and impish conservatory, that, of my own free will, I would choose such company. Where is the sinner?"--Dalton desired Springall to show him to the room of Mother Hays. The Buccaneer offered no comment on the fray, for he had often observed that little good arises from lecturing people for their faults at the very time you want their services. He explained to them briefly but fully, and with as much clearness and wisdom as if he had been for hours in deliberation, the danger by which they were encompassed; the more than fear for their ship--that they themselves were in the most perilous situation they had ever experienced, clogged by the land, and not free on the sea: that as the evening was fast closing in, and the moon did not rise until near midnight, their enemies could do little until after the lapse of a few hours--that those who wished, might disperse themselves along the shore, and escape to Sussex, or any other smuggling station, as they best could; sending intimation to their friends as to their movements: and he was the more particular in giving this permission, as to each and every one had been distributed full pay and profits;--that those who loved the Fire-fly, and would risk their lives for her, or with her, were to conceal themselves along the coast, and ere the moon rose, make their way a-board. This they could easily effect under the thick darkness, and in so calm a night. There was not one who could not steer a plank, in quiet water, from Essex to Sheerness; and in default of that, they were all good swimmers. "And now, my brave fellows," he added, "I may, or I may not, meet you on the deck, where I have so often trod and triumphed. One great account I have to settle with the land before I leave it. I may swing from a gibbet before to-morrow's sun sets; or I may secure---- But if I am not with you," he added, breaking off his sentence abruptly, "before the moon rises, Mathews will take the helm; for I see by his eye that he will not leave the ship he has mated with so much steadiness and good seamanship for so long a time. The long-boat must have a light placed like ours; and false canvass hung round, so as to make a bulk, while the Fire-fly steals silently and darkly on her way. This, if well managed, will give an hour's start--But you understand all that. Make up your minds, among yourselves, who's for the land, who for the sea; and I will join you again in five minutes." As Dalton (who was more agitated than his crew had ever seen him) withdrew, he heard Roupall mutter-- "Confound all she-things! This circumbendibus is all owing to his daughter: 'twould be a precious good job if she had never been born, or being born, was dead in earnest, which I hear she is not--He's not the same skipper he was afore he took to land and sentimentality! Confound all she-things, again say I! they are tiresome and troublesome." We trust none of our readers will echo the prayer of Jack Roupall, as we draw towards the conclusion of our story. CHAPTER X. Vain is the bugle horn, Where trumpets men to manly work invite! That distant summons seems to say, in scorn, We hunters may be hunted hard ere night. SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT. Constantia Cecil watched with much anxiety the progress of the carriages and horsemen which composed the train and body-guard of the Protector, as they passed slowly along the road that led to Cecil Place. A troop, consisting of twenty men, preceded; their bright arms, and caps, and cuirasses, reflecting back the blaze of the setting sun, like so many burnished mirrors. Then came Cromwell's own carriage, drawn by four strong black horses;--they had need of strength, dragging, as they did, a weight of plated iron, of which the cumbrous machine was composed. The windows were remarkably narrow, and formed of the thickest glass, within which was a layer of horn, that, if it were shattered by any rude assault, would prevent the fragments from flying to the inside. Behind this carriage rode four mounted soldiers; it was succeeded by another, and at each side a horseman rode; a third conveyance, the blinds of which were closely drawn, brought up the procession; and behind this was only a single soldier. At some distance, perfectly unattended, and seeming as if unconnected with the party, came the simple vehicle of the Jew Manasseh Ben Israel. However great was Cromwell's partiality for this learned and distinguished man, he was fully aware of the impolicy of permitting one of so despised a race to associate with him publicly, or to travel abroad under his direct protection. Frances Cromwell joined her friend at the window from whence she looked, and at once congratulated her on the tranquillity Sir Robert had enjoyed during the last two hours. "The physician has done much," she replied; "yet I can hardly trust myself to cherish any feeling that tells of peace or hope. Dearest Frances! what will be the fate of your poor friend?" Constantia hid her face on the Lady Cromwell's shoulder, and wept; but her grief appeared of a less feverish kind than heretofore. "Hope for the best--my father can work marvels when he wills. He may read all right; and as yet you are unwedded." "He cannot restore the sweet life of one I loved so dearly,--one whose place I can never see filled, and upon whose innocent countenance I can ne'er again look." "I wonder who is in my father's carriage?--Colonel Jones, I dare say, and a couple more of the same severe cast," observed Lady Frances, trying to divert her friend's attention from the thought of poor Barbara; "not a joyful face amongst a troop of them; the very soldiers look like masses of grey stone, stuck on the horses' backs with iron paste." "The second carriage," said Constantia, "looks as if it contained a prisoner--see, a soldier rides at each door." She turned still paler as she spoke, and grasped the arm of Lady Frances with all her strength, though support was required but for a moment. The motion was unnoticed by her friend, who added in her usually gay tone-- "A good guess! And who is in the third? some other caged animal; one of my father's pet lions, or leopards, or creatures of that sort: pet or no pet, I would rather see what it contains than all the others put together--so much for woman's curiosity!" "The guard are entering the great gates," said Constantia, "and whether he bring me weal or woe, friend or foe, I must receive the Protector, so as to show our sense of the more than honour he has done us." "Constantia!" exclaimed Lady Frances, who still lingered at the window, "there is a fourth carriage, a foreign-looking one, with an overgrown boot, and no attendants--coming behind the train, like the last bit of paper at the tail of a boy's kite. I marvel more than any who that can contain?" "Will you not come with me to receive your father?" said Constantia, extending her hand to her friend. Lady Frances tripped across the room and took it within hers. "Constantia, nothing frights you from your propriety!--I am ready." The sudden, though anticipated visit of the Protector, produced a proportionate degree of embarrassment and confusion among all the inmates of Cecil Place. At any other time, the bare intimation of such an honour would have turned their heads, and inspired their heels with the alacrity of St. Vitus himself; but they had felt too much interest in the events of the past week to experience the full joy to which, at any other time, they would have yielded. As it was, housekeeper, porter, steward, cook, butler, and their subordinates, set about the necessary preparations with the dexterity and alertness of servants who know that their first duty is obedience, not only of their employer's words, but their wishes:--not one but felt the warmest interest in all that concerned their dear master, and still more dear mistress; they would have gladly sacrificed their lives to make her happy: in them was clearly shown the "constant service of the antique world." Solomon Grundy, as usual, having the smallest quantity of brains, was the most noisy, and the least useful, though the creature was affectionate enough in his way, and, as we have stated, marvellously skilful in his calling. He stood with the rest of the servants, about twenty in number, who had assembled to await Cromwell's entrance, and do honour to their young lady by as numerous and well arranged a show as they could collect. They were all dressed in deep and decent mourning, except the women of Lady Frances, who walked behind her to the great entrance, where she and Constantia stood ready to receive his Highness. As he alighted, the advanced-guard formed a semicircle beside the carriage; and when his foot rested on the first step of the entrance-stairs, the two ladies passed the threshold, to meet him with due respect. It was a picturesque sight--the meeting of that rugged and warlike man with two such females;--for Lady Frances, though deficient in what may be termed regular beauty, had an air and fascination about her that was exceedingly captivating; and as she waited, one foot a little in advance, her head thrown back, and the jewels of her clasped stomacher distinctly marking the outline of her full and graceful bust, she formed a considerable, but still a pleasing contrast to the high-souled beauty of her dignified friend. Constantia, at the moment Cromwell alighted, trembled lest the next person should be Sir Willmott Burrell; and the terror she naturally felt, lent an air of embarrassment to her pale, high features, to which they were generally strangers. Her long mourning veil fell, as usual, to her feet; and the folds of her rich velvet robe concealed the change which but a little time had wrought in her exquisitely moulded figure. The arched hall was crowded on either side by her domestics, whose dresses formed a gloomy back-ground, which, nevertheless, accorded well with the hatchment that hung over the entrance,--a memorial of Lady Cecil's recent death. Lady Frances, as she glanced on the sober, but well-arranged party in front, their bright armour and broad swords flashing in the light, the prancing of the brave horses, and the smiling face of her uncle's favourite page--her own cousin, who followed close to his indulgent master--the mixture of carriage and cuirass, of spear and pennon, set out against the green meadows, and still farther off the blue and beautiful sea--all this looked to her cheerful mind as if hope and happiness were about once more to enter Cecil Place. The impression was so strong upon her mind, that she only regretted she could not speak of it to Constantia, who bent her knee to salute the hand of her friend--the Protector of England! while he, gallantly removing his hat, raised her from the ground, and imprinted a grave and respectful kiss upon her brow--then, having saluted his own daughter after the same fatherly fashion, he presented a hand to each of the ladies, and walked, bareheaded, into the hall, returning the salutations of the delighted domestics as he passed, and inquiring in a low, earnest tone, after the health of his worthy host and friend, Sir Robert Cecil. As they entered the apartment, in which a suitable refection had been prepared, Constantia was about to return to receive her other guests. "Not so," observed the Protector, retaining her hand. "I have taken upon myself for one day and one night the wardenship of Cecil Place, if your excellent parent will so permit it; with the Lord's help we will discharge the trust well and faithfully. Such as I wish to introduce to you will join us soon, and to those who will not I have allotted chambers. Our mutual friend, Major Wellmore," he added, smiling, "has instructed me so perfectly in the bearings of this fine house, that I do not at all feel as a stranger within its walls." Constantia bowed, and from her heart thanked the Protector for the kindness and delicacy of his thoughts. "Great and glorious I knew him ever," she said to herself, "but I was unprepared for the tenderness we usually consider the exclusive attribute of our own sex." Some five or six of the officers and gentlemen of Cromwell's household were, in their turn, presented to her; but Sir Willmott Burrell came not among them. Constantia trembled as often as she turned her head towards the opening door. During the time occupied in partaking of the abundant repast, upon which the delighted Solomon had expended all due care and anxiety, there were few words spoken, and neither healths nor toasts passed round--the Puritans holding all such observances as profane things; nor was there any allusion made to the unfortunate occurrences of the past days, except as regarded the disappearance of the Preacher Fleetword, a circumstance which weighed heavily on the mind of Constantia. "I assure your Highness," said Lady Frances, "this is a perfect island of romance; there has been as much mystery, and as many misunderstandings, as would form a Spanish play." "I am sorry, Mistress Frances," replied Colonel Jones, "to find your thoughts still turning to these follies--follies anathematized in this regenerated land." A smart reply mounted to the lady's lip, who was annoyed that the plain mistress had taken place of the title so universally ceded to her, but she dared not send it forth in her father's presence. "I assure Lady Frances," observed her father, rising from the table at the same time, and laying a particular emphasis on the word _lady_, as if he would reprove Colonel Jones's plainness--"I assure _Lady_ Frances that I am a most excellent unraveller of mysteries,--of _all_ mysteries," he repeated with a stress on the word ALL, that made the blood rush into his daughter's cheek. "And if I may presume on such an accomplishment, I would request the honour of a private interview with Mistress Cecil." Cromwell conducted the lady from the room with an air that would not have disgraced the descendant of a race of kings. CHAPTER XI. If you, my son, should now prevaricate, And, to your own particular lusts, employ So great and catholic a bliss; be sure A curse will follow, yea, and overtake Your subtle and most secret ways. BEN JONSON. Whatever passed between Cromwell and the Lady Constantia must remain secret, as neither were of a particularly communicative disposition. Lady Frances, indeed, laboured hard to succeed and comprehend the whole matter, but in vain. She waylaid her friend on her passage from the room of audience, and observed, in a tone and manner that betrayed her anxiety on the subject, "My father and you have had a long conference!" "He has indeed honoured me by much condescension and kindness," was Constantia's reply. "Do you know whom he has closeted up so strangely in Cecil Place? I was going into the oak parlour, when a sentry at the door--(What rough fellows those soldiers are!)--cried 'Stand!' as if I had been a statue. With that I repaired to the small oriel chamber; but there, too, was another 'Stand!' Why, the house is at once a prison and a garrison!" "Not quite." "Oh, you take it more gently than I should--to have persons in your own house, and not know who they are." "Your father, I suppose, knows them; and I may have sufficient confidence in the Protector of England to believe in the wisdom of all he does--nothing doubting." "My father is very anxious about Sir Robert." "He is indeed." "And to search out the destroyer of our poor Barbara." "He has ever been to justice as its right hand." How poor Lady Frances longed to ask of Constance if her father had talked about Sir Willmott--if there were any tidings of Walter De Guerre, or where he had been since his disappearance with Major Wellmore! but she could not--she dared not ask another question: indeed, Constantia effectually prevented her so doing, for, taking her hand with that extraordinary combination of frankness and reserve which is ever the characteristic of a great and honest mind, she said-- "My sweet friend, do not question me; I have either answered your father's questionings as I answer every one, truly, in word and spirit, or told him, when he asked what I must not reveal, that I could not tell. I never equivocated in my whole life; equivocation is a subterfuge, mean as well as sinful--the special pleading of a lie." "My dear Lady Perfection!" "Do not mock me, sweet Frances: the world will say, and say rightly, you are much nearer perfection than I am; you have far more of the woman--the open, cheerful, confiding woman. But hear me say a few words more,--and apply them as you will. I once saw a young fresh tree--it was an oak--a bright tree and a beautiful! It flourished on the hill-side, and injured nothing; for its shadow was harmless, and served but as a kindly shelter for the modest violet and the pale primrose. The woodcutter looked upon it as he passed it by, and said it would grow to be the pride of the forest;--the village children held their innocent revelry beneath its gay branches:--but, Frances, dear Frances, the storm gathered, and the thunder leaped from cloud to cloud in the angry heavens, and the lightning--the forked lightning, darted among its leaves, and struck it to the heart. The next morning the sun saw that it was blighted; and the sun said, 'My beautiful tree and my brave, that my beams delighted to shine upon, is blasted; but I will throw forth my warmest rays, and my favourite shall revive, and again be glorious!' And the sun came in all its power, and it shone upon the tree; but the more it shone, the more quickly the tree withered--for it fainted beneath the kindness which had the will, but not the gift, of renovation." Lady Frances turned from her friend with tears, and asked her no more questions. Constantia wept not, but passed towards the servants' hall to give some directions. The evening had quite closed, and the earth slept under the broad grey wings of twilight; as she crossed the corridors, she would have been bewildered by the darkness, had not her feet been acquainted with every winding passage. As she passed one of the deep and sunken entrances for light, that seemed constructed for the purpose of expelling and not admitting the beams of day, so narrow and complicated was its framework, something struck violently on the glass. She started on perceiving a small figure enveloped in a woman's cloak. Late occurrences had made her cautious; but she was quickly assured of safety on hearing her name pronounced by the voice of Robin Hays. In a low but somewhat confident tone he informed her of his desire to see the Protector upon a matter of life and death. "Only ask him if he will see me, dear lady!--I would not come openly, because I know he loves mystery in all things, and likes not that the world should be able to prate of his interviews.--But ask quickly, dear lady--quickly, as ye would seek heaven!" "See you, Robin! The Protector see and counsel with you, Robin?" "Ay, dear lady--the lion and the mouse--the lion and the mouse--only let it be quickly--quickly." "Stay, Robin; you of all men are the most likely to know--can you tell me aught concerning one, I believe, we both loved?" "Ask me not, dear mistress, now; only quickly, quickly to the Protector." In a few minutes Robin Hays again stood before the great and extraordinary man he both respected and feared. There was a mingling of kindliness and warmth in Cromwell's manner, as he desired the manikin to come forward, and, having first questioned him about his health, commanded him to tell his business. "I have intruded on your Highness, which is a mark of great boldness in a creature of such low degree," commenced the Ranger in obedience to the Protector's orders, "and it is on behalf of one to whom I am much bound. Alack! great sir, it is a sad thing when a man of spirit, of power, and of bravery, has no friend to speak for him but one that Nature threw from her as unworthy of the neat finishing she bestows on others:--when our parent discards us, what have we to expect from mankind?" "Do you speak of the youth called Walter, whose gallant Jubilee waits impatiently till his master is at liberty to boot and saddle? He shall mount him soon." "With all humility, your Highness, no:--I would speak of Hugh Dalton and the Fire-fly." "Of his ship, which may be at sea, say you?" Robin ventured one glance at Cromwell's countenance, doubtless with the intention of ascertaining if he knew the position of the vessel: but there was no expression on those features that could lead to any conclusion, and the Ranger skilfully evaded the question. "It is indeed of Hugh Dalton I would speak," continued Robin, "and intreat in his behalf, what I need myself, yet ask not for--a pardon." "Pardon!" repeated Cromwell, "Pardon!--on what grounds?" "Those of mercy--upon which your Highness has pardoned many; and, please your Highness, if I may make bold to say so, this same man has some reason, however small, to offer. The Jewess Zillah----" "Ah! what of her?" "Is in his keeping, and a certain preacher also--a worthy, simple, yet, withal, a keen man, whom Sir Willmott Burrell, as I understand, entrapped and shut up, with famine as his only associate, because he had become possessed of some papers proving Sir Willmott's marriage with the Jewish lady." "And Dalton----" "Saved this Fleetword!" "Ah, Fleetword!" interrupted Cromwell, "I have heard of his disappearance--and he is safe?" "Perfectly." "I bless the Lord for his unravelling! But why comes not this man forth from his den? Methinks, if he have rendered such service to the Jew, who is our friend, he has some claim to our consideration, and might hope--perhaps, hope for pardon. But, if I judge rightly, he expected more than pardon,--pardon for his ship also, and farther grace towards himself:--ran it not thus?" "Please your Highness, yes. The man loves his ship, which is but natural; and then his men----" "What! the reeving ravenous set who have carried destruction as their flag, and filled the coast with desolation; aided and abetted in plunder, and brought over malcontents from evil lands, and scattered them like flax-seed over the country! Cornwall--Devon--Essex--Kent--Sussex--everywhere;--disturbed ourselves, so that by night as well as day we lack repose; and are forced to be our own watch-dog, to the great discomfort and danger of our body, and the vexation of our soul! Pardon for such as they! Dalton we might pardon, we have reasons for it; but his ship--it shall burn upon the high seas, as an example to all like it; and, as to his crew,--why not a scoundrel could be found robbing a hen-roost who would not declare himself one of Hugh Dalton's gang! To send you, too, as his ambassador!" "Please your Highness," interrupted Robin, "he did not send me, though he knew of my coming. The man is watching by the side of his child." "His child, said you--I heard he had but one, and that, through some mystery, the girl was here, and----" Cromwell would have added, "shot," but he remembered what Robin had suffered at Hampton Court, when Barbara's death was mentioned before him, and, though chafed at the picture he had himself drawn of the ravages of the Buccaneer, yet the kind feelings of his nature prevented his opening the green wound in the Ranger's heart. No matter what distinction rank makes between man and man, Nature has instituted a moral freemasonry, by which all her children understand the signals and symptoms of goodness and greatness in each other's bosoms. Robin blessed him for his forbearance with the fresh warm blessing of an affectionate heart; and the blessing ascended to the Almighty's throne, although breathed into no mortal ear!--it ascended, not on the wings of the wind, for the wind heard it not; yet there it was, and there it remains, registered in the book of life, amongst the few but holy offerings which are paid to the mighty, in secret, by those who look to them for aid,--whose homage is generally of the lip, not the heart. After a pause, more full of meaning than if it had been crammed with words, Robin said---- "Please your Highness, the girl is not dead, though badly wounded." "I thank God!--I thank God for every blessing. Have you so said to the Lady Constantia?" "I did not like to mention it, yet, as I did not know----" "Right, right," interrupted Cromwell, not permitting him to finish the sentence, "a silent tongue is ever harmless, and with it there is safety. But I must see Fleetword and the Jewess forthwith: say unto Dalton that so I desire it." "The Skipper has secrets touching this family in his keeping which I have reason to think he will retain, unless----" Wily as he was, Robin now paused, for he dreaded to rouse the Protector's ire, and Cromwell, seeing his hesitation, exclaimed, "Speak on--speak out, young man--this fellow would dictate to us--but speak--speak, I say; what are his gracious terms?" Although the last words were uttered in an ironical tone, Robin did speak, and boldly. "Pardon for himself, his registered followers, and safety for his ship; I know such to be his feelings, and know he would so say." The Protector replied calmly--"To the pardon for himself, I say, ay; to the other conditions, no. Once spoken is enough. My words are for eternity, young man; it is much that I pardon even him. Go to--what hinders that I blow not his nest into the sky? what care I for the vultures of his eyrie! "But the doves, your Highness,--the doves that shelter there!" "Look ye, sir ambassador," returned Cromwell, "were I to twine a wreath of gunpowder round his nest, think ye he would suffer his child to perish, whatever fate in desperation he might award himself?" "My Lord, he can look the sun in the face at noon-day; he could weigh with an unquailing eye the bullet that brought him death--he is a man of unspeakable firmness." "Granted," said the Protector; "but I am a father--so is he; you are not, or you would feel that, were the female a vulture, not a dove, still he could not peril her life. She is his child. I forget, while I now speak, that which I am; for I could not speak thus if I remembered it. I send you to Dalton, to tell him, that in humble, most humble, imitation of the blessed God, whose unworthy servant I am, I say that 'though,' in the eyes of the world, 'his sins be as scarlet, they shall be as wool;' they shall be blotted from my memory, and I will stretch forth my right hand to save and not to punish; so much as regards himself, I will not hint at his misdeeds, provided that----" he stopped abruptly, and fixed his eye upon the timepiece that was set over the chimney--a huge heavy iron machine, that one would fancy even Time found it difficult to deal with. "You see the hour--the hand is on the stroke of nine: provided that, before that same hand rests upon the single figure which heralds in the morning, the Preacher, the Jewess, himself and his daughter are within this room--provided they are here I will seal his pardon: he shall go forth, or remain, a free subject of the Commonwealth. And more than this, my soldiers sleep till midnight, so that men, _all_ men may travel in safety,--in safety _by land_, I mean; for if the slightest attempt be made to rid the harbour of the pestilential vessel, whose crew keep such careful, or rather such prudent, watch upon her deck, if that the night were dark as blackness itself, there are eyes that see, and hands that avenge! The ship must not remain unpunished; of her, justice _shall_ have its due. Your Buccaneer should think of this, and bless the God that has made us merciful." "The Fire-fly, to be towed into Chatham and about, and pointed at by the cowardly land-lubbers, as Hugh Dalton's fine vessel! 'Twould kill him, please your Highness, it would kill him. He would not take his life on such terms----" "Let him lose it, then. Think ye that, though you were honest, there are not many who pant to discover the secrets of that nest? Came I here for pastime? The Lord he is righteous and merciful. The cavern and its wealth is ours. The goodness of the Lord is over all the earth; yet such is the corruption of all things that we have no leisure for repose, much less pastime. Men's passions and evil propensities devour us, and fright comfort and often holy communing from our pillow. Go to, then. We have one who could lead us blindfold through your crag and its chambers. If we find Dalton armed, justice must take its course; even I could not save him then." "It is little your guide would know what awaited him, if he did conduct the soldiers of your Highness," replied Robin, perhaps in a tone of momentary familiarity, the result of his long conference. "It is enough," said Cromwell. "Though you have denied that you were directed by him to see us on this matter, yet you will not scruple to do our bidding. I need not repeat--within four hours from this time,--the Jewess, the man of God, Dalton and his daughter--secretly, mark, _secretly_--within this chamber. During this period my soldiers sleep; but the vessel must not be unmoored. Remember, if its anchor is weighed--or slipped," he added, with that extraordinary penetration which saw every possibility of even equivoque, and guarded against it, "the Buccaneer's life is forfeit." Robin bowed with great submission, but still lingered. "Please your Highness, he does so love that vessel!" "You practise on our humanity, young man, and forget to whom you speak." Robin bowed again more lowly than before, and retreated down the room. While closing the door, he looked to where the Protector sat; Cromwell, observing the movement, raised his hand, and pointed to the time-piece, whose iron finger was fast travelling round the dial. CHAPTER XII. So up he arose upon his stretched sails, Fearless expecting his approaching death; So up he arose, that the air starts and fails, And overpressed sinks his load beneath; So up he arose, as doth a thunder cloud Which all the earth with shadows black doth shroud; So up he arose. PHINEAS FLETCHER. "The Lord deliver me! once more, say I," ejaculated Robin Hays, "and the Lord deliver Dalton! He would sooner submit to have his limbs hewed one by one from his body, than permit a single plank of his good ship to be touched: he loves it far more than his own life. I will not speak with him about it. There is no possibility of a hundred of our men, if we could summon them from the different stations, encountering the well-disciplined soldiers now upon the island. Nothing legal or illegal can withstand the power or turn aside the will of that most wonderful man. It is useless to commune more with Dalton; but I will save him, though I perish in the attempt!" It may be almost said that he flew to the Gull's Nest. When there, he turned with a stealthy step towards the chamber which his mother occupied. There was no living being in the room save one, and she was busied in composing the limbs and features of his dead parent, chanting, in a low monotonous tone, fragments of old songs and snatches of ballads appropriate to the gloomy task. Robin clung to the door-post. However little he might have respected his mother, he knew she had loved him; and it is sad, in a world where so few affectionate ties are formed, to see the nearest and the dearest severed. He stood for a little watching the slow movements of the old crone, who was so withered and woe-looking that, with but slight effort of imagination, he might have believed the grave had given up one dead to prepare another for the sepulchre. The small lamp sent forth but little light, and the features of his mother, not yet decently arranged, had a scared and frightened look, as if terror, at the oncoming of death, had left her a powerless though unwilling captive. "Has the spirit long passed!" at length inquired Robin, in a voice so low that the aged woman started, as if the whisper sounded from below the earth. "Anan, Master Robin, is it you? Ah! I little thought you'd ha' been away; not that I fancy she missed ye much, for she didn't make much struggle--that is, not to say much at the very last-- 'And at the last your bed shall be, Ay, near the broad and briny sea!'" She gave out the rhyme while smoothing back the hair from the haggard features of the corpse; and her trembling treble voice, so weak, so shrill, added a most miserable and desolating effect to the awful scene. "Do it decently, good dame, decently and gently too, and you shall be rewarded," said Robin, deeply affected,--aware how impossible it was for him to remain and see that every thing was well ordered. "Ay, ay, I warrant it shall all be done rightly, master, as rightly as if she decked herself, poor soul! which she was well fond of in days long ago." Robin turned towards the cliff. As he commenced the descent, the wail of the corpse-dresser fell upon his ear with the sighing of the wind that was straying amongst the many hollow crags--the mysterious wind that comes--whence?--we know not; and goes--where?--we cannot tell--yet moves along upon its appointed way--felt, although unseen, on the vast earth and the wide sea--now rejoicing over pleasant fields, and filling the leaves with harmony--kissing in its gentleness the blushing bosom of the rose, and wafting the humble bee on its industrious voyage!--then stirring up oceans by its breath, and shouting to the clouds its mandates!--Thou playfellow of thunder, and mate of the fierce lightning! whether as a hurricane or a zephyr, great source of good and evil, hail to thee on thy way! Robin stood on the smooth beach at the bottom of the cliffs, and, taking in at one glance all the objects within sight, perceived that the government ships had certainly moved closer to the vessel, whose identity had puzzled even him, keen observer though he was. The night was dark but clear--no haze, no moon--the clouds not heavy nor light, yet few stars made their appearance: now and then, as a shadow passed, one would twinkle for a moment, until obscured by some ambitious vapour soaring from earth to become purified by heaven. The ocean was calm and still, sleeping the sleep of waters in their immensity! Persons unaccustomed to such scenes could hardly have distinguished the vessels in the offing, so much of the same colour did they appear with the waves themselves. Robin then scanned the cliffs as he had done the ocean, and whistled soft, low, but audibly,--a note like that of the frightened plover. It was speedily answered, and in a moment Roupall stood by his side. "Are any gone off to the ship?--and where is the Skipper?" "The Skipper's with the women, and, I think, has been looking out for you," replied Roupall. "Tell him, then,--tell all--that it will not be safe for any of ye to venture off to the Fire-fly till I give ye a signal. The ships have got closer to her, and a boat going off now would be sunk by a shot, for, night as it is, they can see; and, if it continues clear over head, the moon will not be needed to light to mischief--the stars shine bright enough for that. And now, Jack, I'm going to make a confidant of you--a proof that I think ye an honest rascal, at all events. Do not give what I am going to write on this parchment to the Skipper until I have made a signal from the ship. He is too old a sailor not to be on the look out; but you and Springall must be with him. You owe me thus much service for a wrong you once did me. It is meet that I forget and forgive it now." "As to the wrong, Robin, it is clear out of my memory," replied Roupall. "Gad! you must be a good scholar to write in the dark; but, I say, your signals and book learning could be much clearer, if you would just step in to the Skipper and explain. Here are we, like a parcel of bats and owls, stowing away in the cliffs, waiting to get out to the ship; and I know, from what old Hugh said, he is only watching for some messenger, with some answer or another. I know he is about a negotiation, which I'd never consent to, but fight a thousand troopers, had it not been that as good as eight or ten took his permission, and walked off for the other holdfast--fellows, to be sure, that never cruised with him above once. Let us a-board, and we're safe. Would that the night were darker! for I think, by the movement of the watchers, (to the Devil with them!) that they suspect--ah! now you've finished, pray tell me what the signal will be--a red light?" "A red light!" repeated Robin musingly, as he rolled up the parchment; "oh, yes! it will be a very red light." "But, Bob, won't that alarm the ships?" "Never mind if it does," replied Robin, casting off his boots, and throwing away all the loose portions of his dress, so as to stand only in his shirt and hose; "Give me your belt--it is broader than mine." Roupall did as he requested, demanding, in his turn, if Robin was mad enough to think of swimming to the Fire-fly. "Yes," was the Ranger's concise reply. "And now," he added, "Jack, remember, the moment you see my signal, deliver this to the Skipper; but, as you value your life, not before." He plunged into the ocean as he spoke; and presently, the sound of the dividing waters was lost in the distance. "Well!" exclaimed Roupall, "that beats all the freaks I ever knew even Robin to be after! Why, the vessel's near a mile off; and, now I think of it, I never asked him what we were to do when he gave the signal; but I suppose his paper tells. Lying about here, in such peril! But it's always the way--the minute a sailor touches land, good-by to his well-doing." Before the speaker had climbed the topmost cliff, he met the Buccaneer. "Hast seen Robin Hays?" was his first question. "Ay, sir; and, if it was day, you might see him too--at least, the best part of him--his head, yonder--making for the Fire-fly." "How! making for the Fire-fly! What do ye mean. Jack? this is no time for jesting." "I mean, Captain, that Robin Hays is swimming to the Fire-fly; and that he told me to watch for a signal he would make; and----" "And what?" "Why, he is to make a signal--a red light from the ship." "Red light from the ship!" repeated the Buccaneer, in a voice of astonishment; "He has lost his senses! What can this mean? Left he no message for me?" "None," replied Roupall; thinking to himself, "a piece of parchment's no message, so that's no lie." Dalton paced to and fro on the small ledge that had been beaten smooth by the step of many an illegal sentry in days gone by: beneath his feet lay the subterraneous apartments of the Gull's Nest; and before him (although the night had so darkened that it was no longer visible), before him was his own vessel anchored. At any other time he would have felt secure of refuge in the one resource or the other; but circumstances combined to convince him there was now no certain safety by sea or land. At one moment, he thought of manning his boat, and carrying his daughter boldly to the ship. Had he been alone, such would at once have been his determination--but he could not expose much less leave her to peril. With the common blindness of those who argue only on their own side of the question, he could not see why the Protector should object to the preservation of the Fire-fly; and he had hoped for Robin's return with tidings that would have made his child's heart, as well as his own, leap with joy. He knew that Cromwell would make a large sacrifice to secure the Jewess, Zillah; and he had also reasons to believe the Protector suspected there were other secrets within his keeping, the nature of which he would give much to learn. Robin's motive, in thus visiting the Fire-fly, was beyond his comprehension; and he had no alternative but to await the promised signal with all the patience he could command. As he paced the ledge, now with a slow now with a hurried footstep, the darkness increased, and the stars twinkled less frequently:--there was no storm--no fierce blast swept along the heavens, or disturbed the earth, but dense heavy clouds canopied the the ocean as with a pall. Roupall was seated on a huge stone, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes fixed on the "multitudinous sea," silently, and not less anxiously, watching for the flash which he expected would disturb the dull and sleepy night. Ever and anon, the querulous voice of the woman, keeping watch by the lifeless clay, which she had laid in decent order upon its humble pallet, in the Gull's Nest, floated over the cliffs, and died away on the bosom of the waters. At times, Roupall would growl and fret as a chained mastiff; but the anxiety of the Skipper had so increased, that he ceased moving, and stood on the bold brow of the crag, like a black monument of stone. Suddenly, a strong light, a fierce blaze, as if the ocean had thrown up one immense pyramid of flame, to dispel the darkness and divide the clouds, sprang into the heavens! and then a peal, loud as the straggling thunder! The cliff shook beneath their feet--the sea-birds started from their nests, and flew, and screamed, and wheeled in the air! From behind the different points and crags along the shore rushed forth the smugglers, who had lain to, watching the time when it would have been prudent for them to put off their boats and join the ship, as Dalton had directed. The old death-dresser forsook the corpse, and standing on the highest crag, her long hair floating backwards on the breeze, her arms tossing from the effects of terror and astonishment, looked like the sibyl whose spells and orgies have distracted nature by some terrible convulsion. The cliffs and strand at the moment formed a picture that Salvator would have gloried in conveying to his canvass--the line of coast now rising boldly from the ocean, each projecting point catching the glaring blaze, and seeming itself on fire--the caverns overhung by creeping plants, revelling in gorgeous colours from every changing light that touched their beauties:--then the wild figures clasping by the rocks, panting with terror and excitement--the sibyl on her pinnacle--the gigantic frame of Roupall, rendered still more gigantic to the eye by the position in which he stood, breathless, with the written parchment in his hand, yet unable to move or direct Dalton's attention to it. The Skipper, still like a monument of stone, but called to animation by astonishment and dismay, while the light played with the grace and brilliancy of lightning on the bright mountings of his pistols. Still the flames towered brightly to the heavens, while each fresh explosion separated their condensed effect, and sent a portion of them higher in the clouds, or hissing over the variegated and sparkling sea, which rolled to the shore in masses of glowing fire. "Read! read!" at length exclaimed Roupall, thrusting the parchment into the hand of the Buccaneer. "Read! read!" he repeated, for Dalton heeded him not. "Read what?" said the Skipper, in a voice which entered the heart of all who heard it; "do I not read--do I not read--black, bitter, burning treachery?--It is my own ship--I know every spar that flits like a meteor through the air. My heart was never crushed till now." "Read--I will read it, if I can," said Springall, who had joined the party. With some difficulty he succeeded in making audible its contents. "Dalton, you are safe! it may be that I perish: I knew you would never sacrifice your ship for your own life, so I have done it for you. Go with the Jewess, your daughter, and the Preacher, immediately to Cecil Place, to the small passage leading to the purple chamber, and demand admittance. You are pardoned--and all the rest may leave the island, provided they depart before the hour of one." The Buccaneer apparently heard it not: the communication made no visible impression upon him; he stood in the same position as before. Even Springall spoke no word, although his feeling of attachment to Dalton was rendered sufficiently obvious by his creeping close to his side, and grasping his arm with a gesture which said, "I will not be separated from you." At this moment a cry arose from the beach, and, though the flames were fading, it could be seen that several of the men had rushed to the water's edge, and assisted a creature to the shore who was unable to struggle longer for himself; soon, however, he contrived to mount the cliff on which Dalton still remained a living statue of despair, and faint, dripping, unable to utter a single word, Robin stood, or rather drooped, by the side of the Buccaneer. He came too soon; Dalton, irritated, maddened by the loss of his ship, was unable to appreciate the risk which the Ranger had run, or the sacrifice he had made. He thought but of what he had lost, not of what he had gained; and saw in Robin only the destroyer of his vessel, not the obtainer of his long sought-for pardon. Urged by uncontrollable frenzy, he seized his preserver with the grasp and determination of a desperate man, and, raising him from the ledge, would have hurled him over the cliff, had not one, weak and gentle, yet with that strength to which the strongest must ever yield, interposed to thwart his horrid purpose. It was Barbara, who clung to her father's arm: feeble as she was, the death-throes of the gallant vessel had frighted her and her companion from their retirement, and she now came, like the angel of mercy, between her parent and his ill-directed vengeance. When the Buccaneer found that his arm was pressed, his impulse was to fling off the hand that did it; but when he saw who it was that stayed him, and gazed upon the bloodless face and imploring eyes of his sweet daughter, he stood a harmless unresisting man, subdued by a look and overpowered by a touch. Barbara never was a girl of energy, or a seeker after power. She considered obedience as woman's chief duty--duty as a child to the parent--as a wife to the husband; and, perhaps, such was her timidity, had there been time to deliberate, she would have trembled at the bare idea of opposing her father's will, though she would have mourned to the end of her days the result of his madness; but she acted from the impulse of the moment. Nothing could be more touching than the sight of her worn and almost transparent figure, hanging on her father's dark and muscular form, like a frail snow-wreath on some bleak mountain. Robin, whose resentments were as fierce as his fidelity was strong, felt in all the bitterness of his nature the indignity the Buccaneer had put upon him, and stood panting to avenge the insult and injustice, yet withheld from either word or deed by the presence of Barbara, who remained in the same attitude, clinging to her father, unable, from weakness, either to withdraw or to stand without assistance. Springall, who did not love her so much as to prevent his being useful, was the first to regain his self-possession; he brought in his cap some water that was trickling down the rock, and threw it on her pallid brow--while Zillah chafed her hands, and endeavoured to separate her from her father. At last she spoke, and, though her voice was feeble as the cry of infancy, the Buccaneer heard it, and withdrew his gaze from the remains of his burning vessel to look on the living features of his child. "Father! you frighten me by those wild passions--and this wild place! let us go from it, and be at peace; poor Robin is your true friend, father. Be friends with him." "You speak as a woman, a young weak woman, Barbara," replied the Skipper, evincing his returning interest in present objects by passing his arm round his daughter, so as to support her on his bosom. "Look out, girl, and say what you see." "Father, huge masses of burning wood, floating over the ocean, and borne to other shores by the rising breeze." "And know you what that burning wood was scarce a minute since?" "Father--no." "Those blazing masses were once the Fire-fly--my own ship--my own ship!" "And Robin----?" "Has been the means of its destruction." "Has he?" Barbara paused after she had so exclaimed, and then, clasping her hands, raised them upwards as she continued, "a blessing, a thousand blessings on him! for what he does is ever good, and full of wisdom. Ah! now I see it all: he destroyed the bad vessel that you, dear father, might no more to sea; but stay on shore with us--with _me_, I would have said--" she added, hiding, as she spoke, her face on her father's shoulder. Five or six of the crew had clambered up the cliff, and clustered round their Skipper. Roupall, Springall, and the Jewess were close to Barbara, and Robin stood exactly on the spot where Dalton's rage had left him--one foot on the edge of the crumbling cliff, his long arms enwreathing his chest. The red glare had faded from the waters, the sea-birds were settling in their nests, but the government-ships were alive with lights, and, suddenly bursting through the night, came the shrill blast of a trumpet from Cecil Place. It called Robin Hays into activity, and, while the men were looking on each other, he advanced and spoke. "Hugh Dalton, the ship was yours, and yours alone, and to you the parchment which Springall holds accounts for its destruction; that destruction, Captain, ought to prove one thing, and one thing only--that I loved you better than the Fire-fly. Both could not have been preserved. You have treated me as a dog, to whom you would have given a dog's death; and I shall not forget it." "Robin!" exclaimed a small soft voice. "I cannot forget it," repeated the Ranger; and then the voice again said, "Robin," in a tone of such sweetness, that all present were moved. After another pause, hardy Jack Roupall put in his word. "The Skipper was hurt, and no marvel, to see her burning. You mustn't be spiteful, Robin Hays,--only what hindered to get her out?" "She was known, marked, and watched, as I am well assured of," he replied. "Had you attempted to weigh anchor, every man on board would have been blown to atoms. Not a life would have been spared. The men who had charge of her are safe. I sent them to the Essex side--though they little thought why." Another trumpet-blast mounted with the breeze, and Robin exclaimed, "Away, away, lads! It is not yet midnight, and no hindrance will be offered to any who quit the island before the hour of one. Away, away! Ye are foxes, and have earths in plenty. Away, for your lives away!" "Away!" replied Roupall. "Whither, good Ranger? Heard ye not the trumpet, and know ye not that every outlet will be guarded, every man on the watch after such a sound?" "Had your safety not been cared for, there need have been no trumpet-blast. I pledge my faith--my life--for your security," exclaimed Robin, energetically. "Only away, and quickly!" One or two of the men sullenly and quietly dropped down the cliff; but there were others who would not thus part from their captain,--sailors, who had braved danger, disease, and death in his company; these would not leave him now, but, as if in expectation of an attack, they looked to their pistols and jerked their daggers sharply in their sheaths. Dalton still remained, uncertain, perhaps, or careless as to his future course, with Barbara still hanging on his arm, while the Jewess clung closely to her side. "Springall!" said Robin, "you have influence with him. Use it for his good: his pardon is secured if he complies with the terms I have mentioned." "Great tidings! glad tidings!" exclaimed a hoarse voice a little above them. "The Philistines will be overthrown, and the men of Judah triumph! I have heard in my solitude, yea in my extremity, tidings of exceeding gladness: and, albeit not of quick hearing, the tramp of Joshua and his army hath come upon mine ear. Oh, ye Canaanites! ye dwellers in the accursed land!" "Fetch him down!" shouted Roupall. "For your lives touch him not, but to your earths!" exclaimed Robin impetuously. "The Gull's Nest will be no place of safety now." Then, springing on Dalton, he snatched the pistols from his belt and flung them into the sea. He had hardly done so, when spears and helmets glittered in the faint starlight on the higher cliff. It was no time for deliberation. Roupall and the others slunk silently and sorrowingly away, and the little group--Dalton, Barbara, the Jewess, Fleetword, and Robin--stood nearly together on the ledge. Colonel Jones had accompanied the soldiers by direct orders from the Protector, who, from the firing of the ship, imagined for a time that Dalton and Robin had acted with treachery--treachery which, with his usual promptness, he adopted the immediate means to counteract. Robin advanced to meet the troop, and addressing Colonel Jones respectfully, said, "You will have the goodness to observe, sir, that Hugh Dalton is not only unarmed, but has assembled round him those whose presence were commanded at Cecil Place before the hour of one." Colonel Jones vouchsafed no reply to Robin's observation; but it was not the less heeded on that account. He inquired, in a stern voice, "By what means have ye wrought the destruction of yonder vessel?" "I will tell hereafter" was the only reply he could elicit from Robin Hays. It was repeated more than once--"I will tell hereafter." By this time the little party was surrounded. The Buccaneer attempted no resistance. His strength, his spirit, seemed gone; his child lay fainting, weak, and exhausted at his feet. Colonel Jones felt, though he did not then express it, much joy at seeing alive the girl he believed dead. Dalton attempted to raise and carry her with him, but in vain. He staggered under the light load as a drunken man. One of the troopers offered horses to the females. Dalton would not commit her to other guidance than his own, and, mounting, placed her before him. Robin would have turned to the room that contained his mother's corpse, but Colonel Jones forbade it. "My mother, sir, lies dead within that hut," expostulated the Ranger. "That may be," replied the soldier; "but I say, in the words of Scripture, 'Let the dead bury their dead.'" The party then proceeded towards Cecil Place, Zillah entrenching herself under the protection of the Preacher Fleetword. CHAPTER XIII. Weep no more, nor sigh nor groan, Sorrow calls no time that's gone. Violets pluck'd, the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again. Trim thy locks, look cheerfully; Fate's hidden ends eyes cannot see. Joys, as winged dreams, fly fast: Why should sadness longer last? Grief is but a wound to wo: Gentlest fair! mourn, mourn no mo. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. It was with feelings of considerable anxiety that the Protector waited the return of Colonel Jones from the second task assigned him in the Isle of Shepey. The routing out of a band of lawless smugglers, although commanded by so daring a skipper as Hugh Dalton, was to him a matter of little consideration, compared to the restoration of Zillah Ben Israel, and the positive saving of Constantia Cecil from worse than death: these two motives weighed deeply upon Cromwell's mind, and he would have made any sacrifice to have been assured that his purpose, with regard to both, might be effected before the morning's dawn. When the explosion of the Fire-fly disturbed his solitude in the purple chamber at Cecil Place, he directed immediate inquiry to be instituted as to its origin, and quickly ascertained that it was caused by the destruction of some ship at sea; his suspicions were at once directed to the vessel of the Buccaneer. There was no time to lose; Colonel Jones, whose courage and coolness were proverbial amongst soldiers more celebrated for these qualities than even British soldiers have ever been before or since, was instantly dispatched to the Gull's Nest. At first the command of the Protector was to "mount silently;" but his pledge to Robin Hays was remembered, and, at the very moment when the glare of the burning ship was illumining the island, he could not bring himself to determine that the little deformed being, with whom he had held commune, had betrayed the confidence reposed in him. "Let him know who are coming and prepare for it," thought Cromwell, whose caution was really subservient to his enthusiasm, powerful as was at all times this latter quality; and then he gave, in a low, but earnest and energetic tone, the order, "Sound a brief 'to horse!' trust in the Lord, and see that your swords be loose in their scabbards." The troop, on its return, was met by Cromwell himself at the gate to which we have so frequently alluded. His anxiety had not been often greater than on that occasion, and it was manifested by an impatience of manner that almost terrified the attendants who waited in his presence. He was accompanied by only two officers, and his first question was if "Colonel Jones had secured Dalton and the Jewess?" A reply in the affirmative evidently afforded him great relief and satisfaction; but the feeling was quickly succeeded by one of extreme anger when informed of the total destruction of the Fire-fly, which he had desired to preserve for his own special purpose. Yet, until the prisoners had been conducted into Cecil Place by the private entrance, as he had previously arranged, his displeasure only found vent in occasional exclamations. The house was alive with alarm and curiosity, but its inmates received little information to quiet or to satisfy their eager thirst for intelligence. As the soldiers passed the gates, lights floated through the dwelling, and the windows were crowded with inquisitive countenances; great, therefore, was the disappointment when they observed the party separate, and one portion of it take a private path, leading to the Protector's apartments, while the other proceeded round an angle of the building to the stables. Many of the domestics met them at the stable gates, but could learn nothing from those trusty soldiers, who perfectly understood, and invariably acted upon, their master's favourite motto, "safety in silence;"--still they could not rest, no one went to bed, for all were in expectation of--they knew not what. The clock struck one; about five minutes afterwards Cromwell had closed the door of his chamber; the half-hour chimed. Constance was looking on her father, sleeping calmly in his chair, in a closet that opened into his favourite library. He had not been in bed for several nights, and, since his afflicting insanity, could seldom be prevailed on to enter his own room. After pausing a few minutes, while her lips appeared to move with the prayer her heart so fervently formed, she undid the bolt, quietly opened the door, then partially closed it, and left her wretched parent alone with his physician. She could hear within the library, in which she now stood, the heavy breathings of the afflicted man. A large lamp was burning on the massive oak-table: it shed a cheerful light, but it was a light too cheerful for her troubled and feverish spirit--she sank upon a huge carved chair, and passed her small hand twice or thrice over her brow, where heavy drops had gathered; then drew towards her the large Bible that had been her mother's. On the first page, in the hand-writing of that beloved mother, was registered the day of her marriage, and underneath the births of her several children, with a short and thanksgiving prayer affixed to each; a little lower down came a mournful register, the dates and manner of her sons' deaths; but the Christian spirit that had taught her words and prayers of gratitude, had been with her in the time of trouble; the passages were penned in true humility and humble-mindedness, though the blisterings of many tears remained upon the paper. Constantia turned over the leaves more carelessly than was her custom; but her eye dwelt upon one of the beautiful promises, given with so much natural poetry by the great Psalmist,--"I have been young, and now am old, yet saw I never the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread." "Alas!" she thought, "I can derive only half consolation from such as this. One of my parents was indeed righteous; but, alas! what has the other been?" She bowed her head upon the book, and did not again raise it, until a soft hand touched her shoulder, and a light voice whispered "Constance!" It was Lady Frances Cromwell. "My dear Constantia! here's a situation! I never knew any thing so provoking, so tantalising! My father, they say, has taken as many as twenty prisoners, of one sort or another; and has caged them up in that purple-room with himself, examining into and searching out every secret--secrets I want so much to know. He has got the Buccaneer, they say." "Who says so?" inquired Constance eagerly. "Why, everybody. Maud says so. And I have been to the door at least ten times; but even the key-hole, I verily believe, is plugged. I am sure it is, for I tried hard to see through it." "The crisis of my fate is indeed come," murmured Constantia. Then, after a pause, she was about to address her friend: "My dear Lady Frances--" "Don't Lady Frances me," interrupted the young maiden, pettishly. "I hate to be Lady Frances. I should know more about every thing if I were a chamberlain's daughter." "Your father can discover nought to your prejudice. I confess I both dread and hope to hear news of the Gull's Nest. There is nothing which can affect you there." "How can I tell? Poor Rich chooses queer postmen sometimes! And that Manasseh Ben Israel! he is as anxious as myself to know what is going on. Two rooms locked up! Constance, I wonder you have not more spirit than to submit to such proceedings. I would not." "I am sorry for it; because it shows that your confidence in your father is overbalanced by your curiosity." "Pshaw!" exclaimed the lady, turning from her friend, just in time to see the doors at the bottom of the room thrown open with much ceremony:--the Protector, attended by his pages, followed by Dalton, Fleetword, and Robin, entered. Constance rose respectfully from her seat, glanced upon the form of the fearful Buccaneer who now stood before her, and laying her hand on the arm of her friend, would have withdrawn, had not Cromwell commanded her to stay. "Mistress Cecil, you will remain;--both remain," he said, while an expression of exceeding kindness lent to his harsh countenance the effect that sunlight gives to a rugged landscape, softening without destroying a single point of its peculiar and stern character. "I have no dread of objection on the part of the Lady Frances, and I must request your presence." He took a large chair at the head of the table, and seating himself, delivered a slip of writing to his page, who immediately quitted the room. "Our young friend will pardon this intrusion upon her privacy, and moreover allow us to continue an investigation that has already been attended with much pain, but we should hope with some satisfaction also." As he spoke, the door again opened, and Manasseh Ben Israel, pale and trembling with agitation, walked, or rather, so submissive was his attitude, crept forward, saluting the Protector and the ladies as he advanced. "Will your Highness permit?" inquired Constantia, rising from her own seat, and pushing it towards the Rabbi. "Most certainly," was Cromwell's prompt reply; "our friend is aged, but he is welcome; and we have news that will gladden his heart." In an instant all trace of the servility which custom had imposed upon the manners of the children of Israel vanished. The Rabbi stood upright, and clasping his hands together, exclaimed, "My child! my child!" "The lost sheep is found--blessed be the Lord!--safe here, within this house--and I lay my commands upon her father that she be received as a stray lamb from the fold, and warmed within his bosom. We have all children, good Rabbi; and the Lord judge between us and them, they are stiffnecked and stubborn! All, more or less, all--except one or two who shine forth as bright examples;--such is my own Elizabeth, and such also is Mistress Constantia here." "She is found!" repeated the Jew; "but they talked of crime--of her having--I cannot speak it, please your Highness, but you know what I would say. Peradventure gold might be made to atone." "Peace, good friend!" interrupted Oliver sternly; "justice must have its due; and, by God's blessing, while we are Protector, all the gold your tribe is worth shall not turn the scale! We would be merciful for mercy's sake; but for justice--Yet pardon me," he added in compassion to the Rabbi's horror, "I would not trifle with a father's feelings--she is guiltless of murder." He struck the table with the butt-end of his pistol--a private door of the library opened as of itself--not one, but two females stood beneath its shadow, each supporting each, as if the one weak creature thought she could lend a portion of much needed strength to the other. Lady Frances and Constantia sprang from their seats--all distinction of rank was forgotten, and Mistress Cecil wept over her affectionate bower-maiden, as an elder over a younger sister, or even as a mother over a beloved child. She asked no questions, but kissed her brow and wept; while Barbara stood curtseying, and smiling, and crying, and glancing with evident satisfaction, amid her tears, towards her father and Robin, as if she would have said, "See how my lady, my grand lady, loves me!" It did not escape the observation of Lady Frances that Barbara wore the chain she had given her, and she most heartily wished her father at Whitehall, or elsewhere, that she might have an opportunity of asking all the questions at once suggested by her busy brain. It is impossible to convey an adequate idea of the meeting between the Jew and his daughter. It was with feelings of terror, more than of affection, that Zillah prepared to encounter a justly offended parent. She had heard and believed that crime such as hers--marrying or intriguing with Christians--was punished by a lingering and cruel death; and scarcely could the word of Cromwell, pledged twice for her safety, convince her that such would not be her fate. She instantly prostrated herself at the Rabbi's feet; and it would seem that, assured of his daughter's life--assured of her safety under laws--British laws--his eastern notions with regard to the submission due from woman to her master, man, returned to him in full force; for he suffered her to remain, her forehead resting on the ground, and her hands clasped around it, although he was so deeply agitated that he clung to a pedestal for support. The Protector arose from his seat, and, advancing, kindly and tenderly raised the poor victim of confiding but too violent passion, and placed her leaning on her father's shoulder. "Manasseh!" he said, "at times our speech is obscure, and men see through it darkly. We hope it will not be so now. Your daughter is no harlot, but a wedded woman who will soon become a mother, and, in virtue of her husband and her child, is a subject of our own. We regret the violence of which she has been guilty, but Satan is ever busy in his work of temptation. If you cast her from you, we take her to ourselves; as our blessed Lord would have received the prodigal--the sinful, but repentant son--even so will we receive her. Poor prodigal," he added, after waiting for a reply from the Rabbi, which came not, for the feelings of the tribe were struggling with those of the father--"Poor prodigal! we will not desert thee in thy hour of trial--but seek to preserve thee from worse crimes than even those of which thou hast been guilty." Although Cromwell had placed Zillah resting on the shoulder of her father, he made no effort to support or keep her there, and the Protector was in the act of leading her towards his daughter, when Ben Israel raised a great cry, for the father had triumphed over the Jew, and snatching her to his bosom, he burst into a fervent but almost inaudible prayer of thanksgiving and gratitude, that entered the hearts of those who heard it, and witnessed the terrible strength of his emotions. The Lady Constance was suffering from various causes; the nature of which, from past events, may be more easily imagined than described. Nor were those sufferings either terminated or relieved, when, on Cromwell's striking the table again in the same manner as before, Sir Willmott Burrell stood in the apartment. His entrance caused a sensation of astonishment and confusion through the whole group. Constantia Cecil unconsciously moved her seat nearer to that of the Protector. An expression of satisfaction crossed the anxious and feverish brow of Robin Hays. Dalton folded his arms across his bosom, and advanced his right foot, as if strengthening his position. Preacher Fleetword, who had hitherto leaned against a high-backed chair, his eyes glaring from their sockets on the countenance of "the Lord's anointed," and drinking in, with open ear and mouth, every word he uttered--now shrank into the farthest portion of the room, skilfully keeping a chair in the direction of Burrell, as a sort of fortification against violence or evil, while he muttered sentences of no gentle or complimentary nature, which, but for the august presence in which he stood, would have burst forth in anathemas against the "wolf in sheep's clothing," by which title he never failed in after years to designate the traitor. The Jew trembled, and partly rose from his seat; while Zillah, whose love had turned to hate--whose affection had become as wormwood--stood erect as he advanced, with a pale but firm look. Prepared to assert her rights to the last, she was the very model of a determined woman, who, having been greatly wronged, resolves to be greatly avenged. If her lip quivered, it was evidently from eagerness, not from indecision; and her eye had the lightning of hell, not of heaven, in its glance. Barbara crouched at the feet of her mistress; and Lady Frances, to whom something new was synonymous with something delightful, was tip-toe with expectation. She believed, from what her father had hinted, that Constantia was free, and might wed whom she pleased: this imparted an hilarity to her countenance and manner, totally different from the aspect of all others within that room. Burrell himself looked like a bull turned into the arena, from whence there is no escape. His deep-set eyes were grown red and dry: but they rested, for a moment, while he saluted Constance and Lady Frances; their next movement showed him Zillah and her father, and he shrank within himself, and quailed beneath the defying gaze of the woman he had so deeply injured. For an instant, and but for an instant, eye met eye, and glance encountered glance: the Master of Burrell was overthrown, and looked round for some relief; but like other sinners, when the hour of retribution comes, he found none; for those he next saw were Dalton, Fleetword, and Robin Hays. "We have more than circumstantial evidence to show now, Sir Willmott Burrell," exclaimed the Protector, after surveying him with a look of terrible contempt: "what say you to this lady? Is she, too, a counterfeit?" Burrell remained silent; and while Cromwell paused, as if expecting an answer, the Preacher could no longer hold silence, but vociferated from behind his intrenchment:-- "Under favour of the Greatness before whom I speak--under the shadow of his wing--I proclaim thee to be a sinner--even as those who stoned the holy Stephen, when he was about the Lord's bidding--even as those----" "Peace!" exclaimed Cromwell, in a voice that sounded like thunder in the Preacher's ear. "Sir Willmott Burrell, there are now sufficient proofs--what have you to say why this lady be not declared your lawful and wedded wife?" "I desire it not! I desire it not!" murmured the Rabbi: "my wealth he shall not have, nor my child." "But I desire it--I demand it!" interrupted Zillah; "not for my own sake, most gracious judge," and she bent her knee to the Protector; "for never will I commune with my destroyer after this hour--but for the sake of an unborn babe, who shall not blush for its parent, when this poor head and this breaking heart have found the quiet of the grave!" "May it please your Highness," replied Burrell, "the marriage in a foreign land is nought, particularly when solemnised between a Christian and a Jew, unless ratified here; and I will submit to that ratification, if the Lady Constantia Cecil, whom I was about to wed, and whom the person your Highness designs for my wife sought to assassinate, will agree to it,--taking on herself the penalty to which her breach of contract must of necessity lead." All eyes were now turned to Constantia, who sat labouring for breath, and struggling with an agony to which it almost seemed her life would yield. "We have ourselves provided for the Lady Constantia a fitting mate, good Master of Burrell," replied the Protector; "think ye that the fairest of our land are to be thrown to the dogs?" Again he struck his pistol upon the oak table, and after a breathless silence, during which Burrell never removed his eyes from Constantia--(Lady Frances afterwards said she noted they had all the evil expression of those of the hooded snake, when preparing to dart upon its prey)--the villain contrived to move more closely towards his victim, whose misery was but faintly painted on her blanched cheek. "A little time," she murmured; "a little time to deliberate." "Not a moment--not a moment," he replied; "and remember----" The words had hardly passed from between his closed lips, when Walter de Guerre was ushered in, and Burrell's brow flushed one deep hue of crimson. A murmur of congratulation escaped from several of the party; the Protector turned towards Constantia with the look and manner of one who has planned what he believes will be a joyful surprise--to be gratefully received and appreciated as such; instead of beholding her face beaming with love and hope, he saw that every fibre of her frame became rigid; and she endeavoured to bury her face in her hands. "Mistress Cecil seems to approve our choice no better than her father's," he said, after a pause of intense anxiety to all present: "We would have taught this youth what is due to ourself and our Commonwealth, by the gentlest means within our power. Methinks, women are all alike." "Father! she is dying!" exclaimed the easily-alarmed Lady Frances. "One moment, and I shall be well," said Constantia: and then she added, "Sir Willmott Burrell, you pant for vengeance, and now you may have it. Believing that lady, in the sight of God, to be your wife, I cannot wrong her; though I would have sacrificed myself to--to--." She was prevented from finishing her sentence by the Protector's exclaiming with the energy and warmth of his natural character, "We knew it; and now let me present your bridegroom. Frances, it was excess of joy that caused this agitation." Constantia interrupted him. "Not so, your Highness. Alas! God knows, not so. But while I say that the evil contract shall never be fulfilled--though I will never become the wife of Sir Willmott Burrell, I also say that the wife of Walter de Guerre I can never be. Nay more, and I speak patiently, calmly--rather would I lay my breaking heart, ere it is all broken, beneath the waves that lash our shore, than let one solitary word escape me, which might lead you to imagine that even the commands of your Highness could mould my dreadful destiny to any other shape." There was no mistaking the expression of the Protector's countenance; it was that of severe displeasure; for he could ill brook, at any period, to have his wishes opposed and his designs thwarted. While Constance was rising from her seat, Sir Willmott Burrell grasped her arm with fiendish violence, and extending his other hand towards the door leading to the closet, where she had left her sleeping father, he exclaimed: "Then I accuse openly, in the face of the Protector and this company, Robert Cecil, who stands _there_, of the murder of his brother Herbert, and of the murder of Sir Herbert Cecil's son; and I assert that Hugh Dalton was accessory to the same!" A shriek so wild and piercing issued from Constantia's lips that it rang over the house and terrified all its inmates, who crowded to the portal, the boundary of which they dared not pass. It was little to be wondered that she did shriek. Turning toward the spot at which the villain pointed, the Protector saw the half-demented Baronet standing in the door-way. He had opened the closet, and come forth during the momentary absence of his attendant, and now stood moping and bowing to the assembly in a way that would have moved the pity of a heart of stone. "Fiend!" shouted the Protector, grasping in his great anger the throat of Sir Willmott, and shaking him as he had been a reed--"'tis a false lie! He is no murderer; and if he had been, is it before his daughter that ye would speak it! Hah! I see it all now. Such is the threat--the lie--that gave you power over this excellence." He threw the ruffian from him with a perfect majesty of resentment. Gross as was the deed, the Protector condescending to throttle such as Burrell, the manner of the act was great: it was that of an avenging angel, not of an angry or impetuous man. Sir Willmott regained his self-possession, although with feelings of wounded pride and indignation; fixing his eye upon Constantia with, if possible, increasing malignity, he spoke:-- "His Highness much honours his subject; but Mistress Cecil herself knows that what I have spoken is true--so does her father--and so does also this man! Is it not true, I ask?" "No! I say it is false--false as hell!" answered the Buccaneer; "and if his Highness permits, I will explain." "You say--what?" inquired Constantia, her whole countenance and figure dilating with that hope which had so long been a stranger to her bosom. "I say that Robert Cecil is no murderer! Stand forth, Walter Cecil, and state that within the two last years, you saw your father in a Spanish monastery; and that----" "Who is Walter Cecil?" inquired Burrell, struggling as a drowning man, while losing his last hope of salvation. "I am WALTER CECIL!" exclaimed our old acquaintance Walter; "my _nom de guerre_ is no longer necessary." "It needed not that one should come from the dead to tell us that," said the Protector, impatiently; "but there are former passages we would have explained. What means the villain by his charge? Speak, Dalton, and unravel us this mystery." "It is well known to your Highness, that few loved the former powers more than Sir Herbert Cecil; and truth to say, he was wild, and daring, and bad----" "Dalton!" exclaimed the young man, in an upbraiding tone. "Well, young master, I will say no more about it. Gold is a great tempter, as your Highness knows; and it tempted yonder gentleman, with whom God has dealt. He is a different sight to look upon now, to what he was the morning he sought me to commit a crime, which, well for my own sake, and the sake of others, I did not commit. He came to me----" "Mercy! mercy! I claim your Highness' mercy!" said Constantia, falling on her knees, and holding her hands, clasped and trembling, above her head. "It is not meet that the child hear thus publicly of her father's sin! The old man, your Highness, has not power to speak!" "Lady," continued Dalton, "he could not deny--But my tale will soon be finished, and it will take a load off your heart, and off the hearts of others. Sir Herbert did not die. I conveyed him to another land; but the papers--the instructions I had received, remained in my possession. Sir Herbert's wild character--his fondness for sea-excursions--his careless life, led to the belief that he had perished in some freak, in which he too often indulged. His brother apparently mourned and sorrowed; but, in time, the dynasty of England changed, exactly as he would have wished it--the Commonwealth soon gave the missing brother's lands to the man who was its friend, who had fought and laboured in its cause, and seemed to forget that any one else had any right to the possessions:--but the son of the injured remained as a plague-spot to his sight. I had but too good reason to know how this son of this elder brother was regarded, and I had learned to love the lad: he was ever about the beach, and fond of me, poor fellow! because I used to bring him little gifts from foreign parts--by way, I suppose, of a private atonement for grievous wrong. I took upon myself the removing of that boy to save him from a worse fate, for I loved him as my own child; and there he stands, and can say whether my plain speech be true or false. I was myself a father but a little while before I spirited him away from a dangerous home to a safe ship. Sir Robert believed they were both dead, and sorrowed not; although he compassed only the removal of the brother, yet the going away of his nephew made his possessions the more secure; for, as he said, times might change, and the boy be restored if he had lived. His disappearance made a great stir at the time; yet there were many went from the land then and were seen no more. I thought to rear him in my own line, but he never took kindly to it, so I just let him have his fling amongst people of his own thinking--gentry, and the like--who knew how to train him better than I did. I kept Sir Herbert safe enough until the act came out which gave Sir Robert right and dominion over his brother's land, declaring the other to have been a malignant, and so forth;--but the spirit was subdued within the banished man; he was bowed and broken, and cared nothing for liberty, but took entirely to religion, and became a monk; and his son, there, has seen him many a time; and it comforted me to find that he died in the belief that God would turn all things right again, and that his child would yet be master of Cecil Place. He died like a good Christian, forgiving his enemies, and saying that adversity had brought his soul to God--more fond of blaming himself than others. As to Walter, he had a desire to visit this country, and, to own the truth, I knew that if Sir Robert failed to procure the pardon I wanted, the resurrection of this youth would be an argument he could not withstand. "Perhaps I was wrong in the means I adopted; but I longed for an honest name, and it occurred to me that Sir Robert Cecil could be frightened, if not persuaded, into procuring my pardon. God is my judge that I was weary of my reckless habits, and panted for active but legal employment. A blasted oak will tumble to the earth, if struck by a thunderbolt,--like a withy. Then my child! I knew that Lady Cecil cared for her, though, good lady, she little thought, when she first saw the poor baby, that it was the child of a Buccaneer. She believed it the offspring of a pains-taking trader, who had served her husband. She guessed the truth in part afterwards, but had both piety and pity in her bosom, and did not make the daughter suffer for the father's sin. I loved the girl!--But your Highness is yourself a father, and would not like to feel ashamed to look your own child in the face. I threatened Sir Robert to make known all--and expose these documents----" The Skipper drew from his vest the same bundle of papers which he had used in that room, almost on that very spot, to terrify the stricken Baronet, a few months before. Sir Robert Cecil had remained totally unconscious of the explanations that had been made, and seemed neither to know of, nor to heed, the presence of Dalton, nor the important communication he had given--his eyes wandering from countenance to countenance of the assembled group,--a weak, foolish smile resting perpetually on his lip; yet the instant he caught a glimpse of the packet the Buccaneer held in his hand, his memory returned: he staggered from his daughter--who, after her appeal to Cromwell, clung to her father's side, as if heroically resolved to share his disgrace to the last--and grasped at the papers. "What need of keeping them?" said the Protector, much affected at the scene: "give them to him, give them to him." Dalton obeyed, and Sir Robert clutched them with the avidity of a maniac: he stared at them, enwreathed as they were by his thin, emaciated fingers, and then, bursting into a mad fit of exulting laughter, fell prostrate on the floor, before any one had sufficiently recovered from the astonishment his renewed strength had occasioned, to afford him any assistance. He was immediately raised by Constantia and his attendants, and conveyed to his own apartment, still holding fast the papers, though he gave little other sign of life. There was another, besides his daughter, who followed the stricken man--his nephew Walter. "It is ill talking of marriage," said Cromwell, as the young man paused, and requested permission to leave the room,--"It is ill talking of marriage when Death stands at the threshold; but I have little doubt _you_ will be able to obtain the hand which _I_ could not dispose of. When I first saw you, I expected to see a different person--a director of spies--a chief of discord--a master, not a servant. Walter Cecil, although a bold Cavalier, would hardly have had power to draw me to the Isle of Shepey, had he not, on board the Fire-fly, chosen to embrown his face, and carry black ringlets over his own; a trick, perchance, to set the Protector on a wrong scent. Never hang y'er head at it, young man--such things have been from the beginning, and will be to the end. Methinks that old oaks stand friends with the party;--but I quarrel not with the tree--if it shielded the worthless Charles at Worcester, it revealed the true Walter at Queenborough. Yet I thank God on every account that I was led to believe you one whose blood I would fain not shed, but would rather protect--if that he has the wisdom not to trouble our country. I thank God that I was brought here to unravel and wind up. A ruler should be indeed a mortal (we speak it humbly) omnipresent! As to yonder man--devil I should rather call him--he has, I suppose, no farther threats or terrors to win a lady's love. Sir Willmott Burrell, we will at least have the ceremony of your marriage repeated without delay:--here is my friend's daughter--this night--." "Not to-night," interrupted Zillah; "to-morrow, and not to-night; I can bear no more to-night." "Sir Willmott Burrell," said Dalton, walking to where he stood, beaten down and trampled, yet full of poison as an adder's tooth, "be it known that I pity you:--your dagger has been turned into your own heart!--The human flesh you bribed me to destroy, lives! What message brought Jeromio from the ocean?" Dalton was proceeding in a strain that would have quickly goaded Burrell to some desperate act; for, as the Buccaneer went on, he was lashing his passion with a repetition of the injuries and baseness of his adversary, as a lion lashes himself with his tail to stimulate his bravery; but the Protector demanded if Hugh Dalton knew before whom he stood, and dared to brawl in such presence. Silenced, but not subdued, he retreated, and contented himself with secret execrations on his enemy. "We have rendered some justice to-night," said Cromwell, after striding once or twice the length of the apartment. "Yet is our task not finished, although the morning watch is come. Without there! Desire Colonel Jones that he remove Sir Willmott Burrell to the apartment he before occupied. The morning sun shall witness the completion of the ceremony between him and her he has so deeply wronged. We will then consider the course that justice may point out to us. Dalton, you are a free man, free to come and free to go, and to go as soon and where you please. Observe, I said _as soon_." Dalton bowed lowly, and moved to raise his daughter from the spot on which she had crouched by the seat of her beloved mistress; Robin instinctively moved also. "Stay!" continued the Protector, "there is yet more to do. Young man, you must be well aware your act of this night demands some punishment. The ship which you destroyed--." Dalton writhed at the remembrance, and Barbara half unclosed her gentle lips. "Please your Highness, I knew the man's affection for his ship, and I loved him better than the timber; he would have destroyed me in his anger but for poor Barbara." "That is nothing to us; at the least, fetters must be your portion." Barbara involuntarily sank on her knees, in an attitude of supplication. Robin knelt also, and by her side. So touching was the scene, that Cromwell smiled while he laid his hand on her head, and with the other raised the long chain his daughter had given the modest bower-maiden, and which had remained suspended from her neck, he threw it over the shoulders of Robin, so that it encircled them both. "We are clumsy at such matters," he continued, "but the Lord bless you! and may every virtuous woman in England meet with so warm a heart, and so wise a head, to love her and direct her ways--though the outward fashioning of the man be somewhat of the strangest." CHAPTER XIV. Know then, my brethren, heaven is clear, And all the clouds are gone; The righteous now shall flourish, and Good days are coming on: Come then, my brethren, and be glad, And eke rejoice with me. FRANCIS QUARLES. Over the happy and the miserable, the guilty and the good, Time alike passes; though his step may be light or heavy, according to the feelings of those who watch his progress, still he pursues, with sure and certain tread, a course upon which he never turns. We are about to bid farewell to those who have been our companions through a long but we trust not a weary path; and we delay them but for a short space longer to learn how felt the household of Cecil Place, after the events and excitements of a day which gave birth to so many marvels, and unravelled so many mysteries. We have, however, yet to deal out perfect justice,--and would fain tarry a moment to remark how rarely it is that, even in the sober world of Fact, the wicked finish their course--and vengeance has not overtaken. Truly has it been said that "virtue is its own reward:" as truly has it been added, that "vice brings its own punishment." How lightly, and with how deep a blessing, did Constance Cecil, when the day was breaking, offer up a fervent thanksgiving to God that her only parent, though deeply sinful in intent, was free from blood, and, though worn in body, was sleeping as quietly as a wearied child when its task is ended. Her mother's spirit seemed to hover over and bless her, and imagination pictured another by her side who came to share the blessing--it was the companion of her childhood, the chosen, and loved, and trusted of a long and happy and prosperous after-life. Constantia pressed her couch; but, with the exception of the worn and weary Sir Robert, whose existence quivered like the parting light of an expiring lamp, no eyes slumbered in Cecil Place. The Lady Frances Cromwell, upon that morning, took not up the lays of the foolish Waller, but the precious volume that, in her vanity, she had too often slighted--she read therein,-- "Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." And as she so read, a more calm and settled expression spread over her features; and after much musing and much thankfulness, she sought the chamber of her friend. Constantia was not alone, for, pale and weak, and trembling,--still like the aspen which every breeze may agitate,--the little Puritan Barbara crouched on an old cushion by the side of her lady's bed. It did not escape the Lady Frances, that however thankful and comforted was Constantia by her release from the terrible doom of a union with Sir Willmott Burrell, she was deeply humbled and smitten by the publicity that had been given to her father's meditated crime, and she skilfully avoided any allusion to the scene of the night. The feelings of the maiden were, however, elicited sufficiently to satisfy even the curiosity of Frances Cromwell, by one of those simple incidents that speak more eloquently than words. As Barbara sat on the cushion, she could see into the garden beneath: the window overhung the very spot where Walter had gathered the wild rose as he went forth a prisoner, with Major Wellmore, from the house in which he was already considered a master; and the simple girl discerned, amid the foliage of the trees, even Walter himself, whose gaze was fixed upon the casement above. "Look, Mistress, look!" she exclaimed. Lady Frances and Constantia did look both at the same moment, and saw the same sight. They also both at once withdrew their glance, and, as the eyes of the ladies encountered, a blush, not of shame, or pride, or anger, overspread the fine features of Constantia--it was the pure bright colouring of assured affection; it said more than if volumes had been written to express her feelings. If she seemed less dignified, she looked more lovely than ever: it was as sunshine lending new warmth and fresh beauty to a landscape, which needed that alone to vivify and enlighten, to cheer and charm, to gladden and give life. "Thank God!" exclaimed Frances, clasping her hands--"thank God!--after all, Constantia, you are but a woman!" "My dear friend," replied the lady, literally turning on her couch to hide her blushes, "this is no time to trifle: the melancholy----" She paused for want of words: that proneness to dissemble, which inevitably attends all women who ever were or ever will be in love, was struggling with her high and truthful nature. But Constantia was still Constantia, and could not depart from truth, so as successfully to feign what she did not feel: her sentence consequently remained unfinished, and Lady Frances was left at full liberty to draw her own conclusions therefrom,--a matter of no great difficulty. "I have received a letter from my sister Mary," she said, kindly changing the subject, "and it will please you to know that my lordly father is inclined to listen to reason, and manifests a disposition to admit the reasonableness of his daughter Frances becoming Rich. Beshrew me! but most fathers like that distinction for their children; only, alas! in this instance, Rich and riches are not synonymous. What think you of that? His Highness has not said a word to me on the subject. There is your prim Barbara smiling. Ah! you too, I suppose, will soon be saluted as Mistress or Dame Hays. Fie, fie, Barbara! I thought you had better taste. But never mind, I will not say a word to his disparagement--no, nor suffer one of the court curs to growl at Crisp when he visits the buttery at Whitehall or Hampton. What have you done with the Lady Zillah?" "So please you, madam," replied Barbara, "the Rabbi would not be separated from his daughter. He seems to think her only safe under his own eye. So he forced her to lie on his own bed, and she has fallen, poor lady, into a deep sleep--and he sits by her side, sometimes gazing upon a dim old book, full of strange marks and characters, but more often looking upon the face of his child, until his eyes fill with tears; and then he clasps his hands, and mutters, what I know must be a blessing, it is so earnest; and then, if perchance she moves and the pillow swells, or the coverlet be disturbed, he smooths it so gently you would think it was a woman's hand, and not that of a man. Ah, my lady! love makes all things gentle." "I wonder," observed Lady Frances, "will she turn Christian?" "She has been a kind nurse to me, in my trouble," replied the puritan; "but our good preacher says her heart is far from being humbled. She has a high mind, and is proud of her tribe. While we were in the cell, Master Fleetword took a deal of pains with her, and expoundiated most wonderfully for hours together; but I fear me the seed fell upon stony ground: for, though she sat still enough, I know she did not listen." "Where is your father?" Barbara started at the abruptness of the question, and colouring, she knew not why, said, "Please you, my lady, though his Highness at first commanded him hence, he has graciously suffered him to remain until to-morrow's noon. Ah, madam!" she continued, sinking on the ground at Lady Frances's feet, "if you would only, only remember the promise you made when you gave me this,"--she held the clasp of the golden chain towards Lady Frances,--"and intercede with him, to whom is given the power of life and death, to pardon to the uttermost, and suffer Hugh Dalton to tarry on this island, I would--I would--alas! my lady, I am but a poor girl, and have nothing to give save blessings, and they shower so upon the heads of greatness that they must weary and not gladden; but my blessing would come from the heart, and it is not always, I hear, that the heart beats when the lips speak. So good, my lady, think upon your own great father; and think that as great as he have ere now asked for mercy; and then think upon mine--mine, who is as brave, and--and--will be as honest as the best man in all England. Then, gracious madam, it is not from presumption I speak, but Robin has wit and wisdom, and wit and wisdom are sometimes needed by those in high places; but he would lend--ay, give it all, to serve any one who pleasured me in a smaller thing than this. I can do nothing; but Robin is one who can always do much." When Barbara had pleaded thus far, she could get no farther, but trembled, so that Lady Frances placed her on her cushion, and smilingly replied, "So, for this woodbine-sort of assistance, you would have me rouse the British lion, who has been in such marvellous good temper lately that I fear me the wind will shift soon; but Cromwell, girl, is not one to halve his mercy. I can promise, not from my influence, but the knowledge of his mind, that Hugh Dalton will not be banished; nay, I am sure of it. But see ye there, the helmets are stirring already. Constantia, your chamber is delightful for a heroine, but a melancholy one for a curious maiden. Only behold! one can scarcely catch a glimpse of the court-yard. When I build a castle, I'll construct a turret with eyes, commonly called windows, all round it: nothing shall be done in secret!--Good morn to you, sweet friend! I can soon find out what the stir is about from the head of the great staircase." "Adieu, fair Lady Curiosity," said Constantia, as Lady Frances tripped with a light step on her inquisitive mission: "I will now go to my father's chamber;" and thither she went, resolved to perform her duty to the last, though she shuddered at the remembrance of the crime he had once meditated, and humbly, earnestly prayed that the sin might be washed away from his soul. CHAPTER XV. This even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips. SHAKSPEARE. As the grey and misty twilight brightened into the glowing and happy morn, there were two men prying about and around the otherwise deserted cavern of the Gull's Nest Crag. Nothing is more dreary and lonely to look upon than a scene, where bustle and traffic have but lately been, changed, as if by magic, into a place of stillness--forsaken by those who gave to it animation and existence which before it knew not, and may never know again. Solitude now covered it as with a pall. At the door of the once noisy and frequented hostelry, instead of the bent but busy figure of old Mother Hays, two sea-gulls stalked, and flapped their wings, and screamed, and thrust their bills into the rude cooking-pots that stood without. The two persons, who appeared intent upon investigating the mysteries of the place, could not be seen without bending over the edge of the topmost cliff. It was then at once perceived that they were occupied in fulfilling no ordinary or every-day task. They moved in and out of the lower entrance like bees intent on forming new cells. For a considerable time no word was spoken by either: at length the object they had in view appeared accomplished, and, after climbing to the highest cliff, they sat down opposite each other, so as to command a full prospect of both sea and land. "It was only a little farther on--about a quarter of a mile nearer Cecil Place--that I first set foot on the Isle of Shepey," said the younger, "and a precious fright I got--a fright that never was clear explained, nor ever will be now, I guess." "I little thought matters would have had such an end," replied the other. "Gad, I'm hardly paid for the powder of the train by the few bits I've picked up inside. I couldn't believe, unless I'd seen it myself, that the place was so cleared out: except the furs and shawls belonging to the women, there wasn't the wrapping round my finger of anything worth having. Well, Hugh had many friends--I never thought he'd turn tail." "Turn tail!" repeated the youth: "who dares to say he turned tail? If any one repeats that before me, I'll make free to give him a dose of cold lead without farther ceremony!" "All our chickens are game-cocks now-a-days!" returned the elder one, half laughing: "but, Springall, could you swear that the Skipper and Robin Hays didn't concert it all together?" "Let me alone, Jack, and don't put my back up. I'll lay my life, if there was any concerting in it, 'twas between Robin and the maid Barbara. Well, girls have queer fancies!--Who'd ha' thought she'd ha' fancied Robin?--though he's a brave sound-hearted little fellow; yet who'd ha' thought she'd have preferred him to--to----" "To you, I suppose. Lord, Springall, there's no coming up to the women. Bless ye, I've seen those who loved apes, and parrots, and puppy-dogs, and took more pride and pleasure in them than in their own lawful husbands and born children! What d'ye think o' that? Why, would you believe it? a girl I loved better than my heart's blood took a fancy to an old man, and sent me adrift, though I was a likely fellow then--ah! different, very different to what I am now;" and Jack Roupall, leaning his elbows on his knees, that were wide apart, commenced drawing, with the butt end of his pistol, figures on the sand, which the wind, whether in anger or sportiveness, had flung upon the crag. After a lengthened pause, he looked suddenly up at the youth Springall, who still sat opposite to him, and said abruptly, "Are you sure you made no mistake?" "Am I sure of the sight of my eyes, or the hearing of my ears?" returned the lad. "I was as close to the troopers as I am to you, though they saw me not, and their entire talk was of the Gull's Nest, and how they were all to be down here soon after sunrise; and a deal of jokes, in their own way, they passed upon it--stiff dry jokes, that were as hard to swallow as a poker." "Ha, ha!" laughed the smuggler; "how they will pray when they see the crag dancing in the air! It would be ill done towards the secret stations of our friends on other parts of the coast, to let these fellows find the ins and outs of such a place as this; it would be holding a candle to the devil--giving them a guide to lead them on through all their plans henceforward and for ever. The Gull's Nest shall go after the Fire-fly. It gives me joy to mar their sport--their peeping and prying. But we will not let off the train until we see them pretty close upon us. The Roundhead rascals shall have the full benefit of our gay bonfire. 'Ods rot it! what else could we do, but make a gay ending of it at once. A gay ending!" he repeated--"a gay ending! No rock to mark the spot of so much merriment, so much joviality, so much spoil! Ah! in a hundred years, few can tell where the watchers of the Gull's Nest Crag lighted beacon and brand for the free rovers of the free sea!" Another pause succeeded the rhapsody of Jack Roupall and then Springall inquired how it was that he could not open the strong room where the preacher had been left to his prayers. "How it was? why, because I had not the key. And I am sure there's nothing in it. I was in with the skipper after the long-legged puritan was out, and I could see only squashed fruit, broken boxes, and old good-for-nothing rags. Whatever had been worth moving was moved; but that room will mount as high as any of them, I warrant me. I laid a good lot of combustibles to the door. Ah! there was the gleam of a spear, to my thinking." And he arose as he spoke, groaning out a curse against Springall the moment after. "My back--a murrain upon you and upon me too!--aches like the rheumatism from the weight of that old hag's coffin, which you would have me carry from the Gull's Nest out yonder, for fear it should be blown up with the crag. What did it signify if it was, I wonder?" "You wouldn't like the body of your own mother to go heavenward after such a fashion, sinner as ye are, would ye, Jack?" "They are coming," observed the rover, without heeding Springall's words, "they are coming." It was a fine sight to see even a small number of such well-disciplined soldiers winding their way under the shadow of the hill nearest the scene of so many adventures. Roupall and the youth crept stealthily down the cliff by a secret path; then, with the greatest deliberation, Jack struck a light, and prepared to fire the train they had connected with those within the nest, to which we alluded at the commencement of our narrative; while Springall proceeded to perform a similar task a little lower down the Crag, towards the window from whence the preacher, Fleetword, slung the packet which so fortunately arrived at the place of its destination. The instant their purpose was effected by a signal agreed upon between them they quickly withdrew, and sheltered beneath the shade of a huge rock left bare by the receding tide, where no injury could befal them. It was well they did so, for in a moment the report as of a thousand cannon thundered through the air, and fragments of clay, rock, and shingle fell, thick as hail, and heavy as millstones, all around. Immediately after a piercing cry for aid burst upon their ear, and spread over land and water. "God of Heaven!" exclaimed Springall, "it is not possible that any human creature could have been within the place!" and he stretched himself forward, and looked up to where the cry was uttered. The young man, whose locks were then light as the golden beams of the sun, and whose step was as free as that of the mountain roe, lived to be very old, and his hair grew white, and his free step crippled, before death claimed his subject; he was moreover one acquainted in after years with much strife and toil, and earned honour, and wealth, and distinction; but often has he declared that never had he witnessed any thing which so appalled his soul as the sight he beheld on that remembered morning. He seized Roupall's arm with convulsive energy, and dragged him forward, heedless of the storm of clay and stones that was still pelting around them. Wherever the train had fired, the crag had been thrown out; and as there were but few combustibles within its holes, and the gay sunlight had shorn the flames of their brightness, the objects that struck the gaze of the lookers on were the dark hollows vomiting forth columns of black and noisome smoke, streaked with a murky red. As the fire made its way according to the direction of the meandering powder, which Dalton himself had laid in case of surprise, the earth above reeled, and shook, and sent forth groans, like those of troubled nature when a rude earthquake bursts asunder what the Almighty united with such matchless skill. The lower train that Springall fired had cast forth, amongst rocks and stones, the mass of clay in which was the loophole through which Fleetword had looked out upon the wide sea. Within the chasm thus created was the figure of a living man. He stood there with uplifted hands, lacking courage to advance; for beneath, the wreathed smoke and dim hot fume of the consuming fire told him of certain death; unable to retreat,--for the insidious flame had already destroyed the door which Roupall had failed to move, and danced, like a fiend at play with destruction, from rafter to rafter, and beam to beam, of the devoted place. "Ha!" exclaimed the reckless rover, with a calmness which at the moment made his young companion upbraid him as the most merciless of human kind; "ha! I wonder how he got there? I heard that some how or other he was in limbo at Cecil Place; he wanted to make an escape, I suppose, and so took to the old earth. Ay, ay! look your last on the bright sun, that's laughing at man and man's doings--you'll never mount to where it shines, I trow." Sir Willmott Burrell--for Roupall had not been deceived either as to the identity of the person, or the motive which led him to seek refuge in the Gull's Nest--had effected an almost miraculous escape, considering how closely he was guarded, a few hours before, and secreted himself in the very chamber where he had left poor Fleetword to starvation, little imagining that he was standing on the threshold of retributive justice. He had caught at flight, even so far, as a sort of reprieve; and was forming plans of future villany at the very moment the train was fired. God have mercy on all sinners! it is fearful to be cut off without time for repentance. Sir Willmott had none. In the flower of manhood, with a vigorous body and a skilful mind, he had delighted in evil, and panted for the destruction of his fellows. His face, upon which the glare of the garish fire danced in derision of his agony, was distorted, and terrible to look upon: brief as was the space allotted to him, each moment seemed a year of torture. As the flames rose and encircled their victim, his cries were so dreadful, that Springall pressed his hands to his ears, and buried his face in the sand; but Roupall looked on to the last, thinking aloud his own rude but energetic thoughts. "Ah! you do not pray, as I have seen some do! Now, there come the Ironsides," he added, as those grave soldiers drew up on a projection of the opposite cliff, which, though lower than the ruined Gull's Nest, commanded a view of the cavern and its sole inmate; "there they come, and just in time to see your departure for your father the devil's land. You don't even die game! What an end one of those Ingy chiefs would ha' made of it on such a funeral pile; but some people have no feeling--no pride--no care for what looks well!" At that instant the Preacher Fleetword, who had accompanied the troops, stood a little in advance of the Protector himself. Cromwell had a curiosity to inspect the resort of the Buccaneers; and, perfectly unconscious of Sir Willmott's escape, was petrified with horror and astonishment on seeing him under such appalling circumstances; the tumbling crags--the blazing fire--the dense smoke mounting like pillars of blackness into the clear and happy morning sky--and, above all, the agonised scorching figure of the wretched knight, writhing in the last throes of mortal agony! "The Lord have mercy on his soul!" exclaimed Fleetword: "Pray, pray!" he continued, elevating his voice, and hoping, with a kindliness of feeling which Sir Willmott had little right to expect, that he might be instrumental in directing the wretched man's attention to a future state. "Pray! death is before you, and you cannot wrestle with it! Pray! even at the eleventh hour! Pray!--and we will pray with you!" The Preacher uncovered: the Protector and his soldiers stood also bareheaded on the cliff. But not upon the prayers of brave and honest soldiers was the spirit of active villany and cowardly vice to ascend to the judgment seat of the Almighty--before one word of supplication was spoken, a column of flame enwreathed the remaining portion of the crag: it was of such exceeding brightness that the soldiers blinked thereat; and, when its glare was past, they looked upon a smouldering heap at the foot of the cliffs: it was the only monument of "The Gull's Nest Crag;" and the half-consumed body of Sir Willmott Burrell was crushed beneath it. While the attention of Cromwell and his friends was fixed upon the desperate end of the miserable man, Roupall was crawling under a ledge of black rock, that stretched to a considerable distance into the sea, where he calculated on remaining safe until high tide drove him to another burrow. Not so Springall: the moment he saw the Protector on the cliff, he appeared to have forgotten every thing connected with disguise or flight; he no longer sought concealment, but hastened to present himself in front of the soldiers, who still remained uncovered, expecting, doubtless, that such an event would be followed by exposition or prayer. Nothing daunted, he advanced with a steady and determined step, without so much as removing his hat, until he stood directly opposite to Cromwell, whose countenance, under the influence of awe and horror, had something in it more than usually terrific. The clear blue eye of the young intrepid boy encountered the grey, worn, and bloodshot orb of the great and extraordinary man. For an instant, a most brief instant, eye rested upon eye--then the young seaman's dropped, and it would seem that his gay and lofty head bent of itself, the hat was respectfully removed, and he confessed to himself that he trembled in the presence of the mysterious being. "We would not quench the spirit," said the Protector, addressing Fleetword, "but let your prayer be short--a word in season is better than a sermon out of season. We have somewhat to investigate touching the incendiaries by land as well as sea." For the first time in his life Springall considered that a prayer might not be of wearisome length. There he stood, as if nailed to the same spot, while the smoke of the Gull's Nest ascended, and the soldiers remained with their helmets in their hands. Cromwell manifested an occasional impatience, but only by moving first on one leg, then on the other; which, however, escaped the observation of Fleetword, who most certainly became a more dignified and self-important person ever after the hour when he was "permitted to speak in the presence of the ruler in the New Jerusalem." His address was brief and emphatic; and upon its conclusion the Protector commanded Springall to advance. "It appears to us that you had something to communicate." "I believe I made a mistake," replied the boy, "I took you--your Highness, I should say--for one Major Wellmore." "We know you to be a faithful watchman, but it remains to be proved if you are an honest witness. Canst tell how came about this business, and how Sir Willmott Burrell escaped, and took refuge there?" "It was always settled, please your Highness, that, if any thing happened, whoever could was to fire off the trains, which were always ready laid, to make an ending when needed: we little thought that there was any living being within the nest; but Sir Willmott had access to many of the cells, being as deep in their secrets as other resorters to this place--only he never had the bravery of the free trade about him, seeing he was far from honest." Springall observed not the warning finger of Robin Hays, nor heard the murmured sentence of caution that fell upon his ear from the lips of Walter Cecil. Although he had assumed an attitude of daring, his whole thoughts were fixed on the Protector. He was proceeding in the same strain, when Cromwell interrupted him. "Peace, youngster! it is ill from one who has committed evil, like yourself, to speak evil of the living, much less the dead;--it was you, we take it, who reduced this place to destruction?" "Please your Highness, I did." "You and another?" "Well, sir, there was another: but he's gone--no use in trying to find him, he's away. If," added the young man, with his usual recklessness, "there should be punishment for destroying a wasp's nest, your Highness shall see that I will bear it as well as----" The Protector again interrupted the youth's eloquence by adding, "As well as you did the hanging over yonder bay? No, no--we can discriminate, by God's blessing, between the young of the plundering fox and the cub of a lion: both are destructive, but the one is mean and cowardly: the other--it shall be our care to train the other to nobler purposes." Springall raised his eyes, almost for the first time, from the ground, and started at seeing his friends standing on a level with the Protector. Robin's cheek was blanched, and his ken wandered over the blazing gulf which had swallowed up the dwelling of his early years. Springall, with the quickness of feeling that passes from kind heart to kind heart, without the aid of words, sprang towards him, and catching his arm, exclaimed, "Your mother's body! it is safe, safe, Robin, under the dark tree, by the cairn stones. Surely I would not let it be so destroyed." Cromwell's veneration for his own mother was one of the most beautiful traits in his character; from that instant the Protector of England took the boy Springall unto his heart: there was something in common between them--out of such slight events are destinies moulded. "Your Highness," said Walter, whom we must now distinguish as WALTER CECIL, "will pardon one who is indebted to you, not only for a restored fortune, but for his hopes of happiness. Your Highness will, I trust, pardon me for so soon becoming a suitor:--that boy----" "Shall be cared for--it pleased the Almighty that Major Wellmore encountered more than one brave heart and trusty hand in this same Isle of Shepey. After a time we trust to show you and your cousin-bride, when she visits her god-mother, how highly we esteem your friendship; and we trust, moreover, that the awful lesson of retributive justice, it has graciously pleased the Lord to write in palpable letters of fire, will be remembered by all those who hear of Hugh Dalton and the Fire-fly. Great as is the power given into our keeping, we would not have dared to execute such awful judgment as that which has fallen upon the man of many sins. And behold, also, by the hands of the ungodly righteous punishment has been dealt unto the sticks and stones that have long given to rapine most unworthy shelter. The wheat, too, mark ye, young sir!--the wheat has been divided--glory be to God! for it is his doing. The wheat has been divided from the tares--and from amid the lawless and the guilty have come forth some who may yet take seats among the faithful in Israel." CONCLUDING CHAPTER. Twelve years--twelve eventful years--had passed, and, ere our work is done, we must entreat our readers to visit with us, once again, the old Isle of Shepey. The thoughtless, good-tempered, dissipated, extravagant, ungrateful, unprincipled Charles, had been called by the sedate, thinking, and moral people of England to reign over them. But with English whim, or English wisdom, we have at present nought to do; we leave abler and stronger heads to determine, when reviewing the page of history, whether we are or are not a most change-loving people--lovers of change for the sake of change. Our business is with an aged man, seated, on a pleasant evening of the year 1668, under a noble oak, whose spreading branches shadowed a brook that babbled at his feet. The beams of the setting sun were deepening the yellow tints of yet early autumn, and many of the trees looked as if steeped in liquid gold. In the distance, the ocean, quiet, calm, unruffled, was sleeping beneath the sober sky, and not a breeze wafted its murmurs to the little streamlet by the side of which that old man sat. He was but one of a group; four healthy and handsome children crowded around him, watching, with all the intense hope and anxiety of that happy age, the progress of his work. He was occupied, as grandfathers often are, in constructing a toy for his grandchildren. The prettiest of the party was a dark-eyed rosy girl of about four, perhaps five--for her countenance had more intelligence than generally belongs to either age, while her figure was slight and small, small enough for a child not numbering more than three years: she, too, was employed--stitching, with a long awkward needle, something which looked very like the sail of a baby-boat. A boy, somewhat older than herself, was twisting tow into cordage, while the eldest, the man of the family, issued his directions, or rather his commands, to both, in the customary style of lads when overlooking their juniors. The next to him was probably grandpapa's especial pet, for he knelt at the old man's knee, watching patiently, and taking good note, how he secured the principal mast steadily in the centre of the mimic vessel, it had been his kind task to frame for the youngsters' amusement. It must not be forgotten that a very pretty spaniel crouched at the little maid's feet, and ever and anon lifted its mild gentle eyes to the countenance of its mistress. "Con," said the eldest boy, "you are making those stitches as long as your own little fingers; and you must remember, that if the work is not done neatly, the wind may get into the turnings and throw the ship on her beam-ends." "Grandfather!" exclaimed the child, holding up her work with an imploring look, "be those stitches too long? If you say so, grandfather, I will take them all out, because you know." "They will do very nicely indeed, Conny," replied the old man, with an approving smile; "and as for you, Master Walter, I wish that your work was always done as well as your sister's. Bless her! how like her mother she is!" "I wish I was like my mother too," said Walter, "for then you would love me." "Boys and girl, I love you all, and thank God that, in these bad times, you are as good as you are! But, Watty, you must never think of the sea; you were not intended for a sailor, or you would not talk of wind getting into the stitchings of a topsail, and throwing the ship on her beam-ends--ha, ha!" The proud boy turned blushingly away, and began playing with, or rather teazing, a very old nondescript dog, who was lying comfortably coiled up on the youngest lad's pinafore, under shelter of the grey stone which the grandfather used as his seat. "Wat will be a soldier," said the second boy, whose name was Hugh; "his godpapa, Sir Walter, says he shall. But you will teach me to be a sailor before you die, and then I may live to be as great as the great man you and father talk about, the brave Blake. Oh! how proud I should be if you could live to see that day," he continued, his bright eyes dancing at the anticipation of future glory. "And you may, dear grandfather, for mother says that Crisp is older now for a dog than you are for a man. Watty, you had better not teaze Crisp, for he has three teeth left." "Three!" interrupted little Con, whose fine name of Constantia had been diminished to the familiar appellation--"three! he has four and a half and a little piece, for I opened his mout and counted them myself." "When do you mean to speak plain, and be a lady, Miss Con?" The child looked into her brother's face, and laughed a gleesome laugh, one of those burstings of a joyous heart that come, we know not how, but never come after the dancing pulse of youth changes into a measured time, when we look upon the dial's hand, and note that hours are passing. "Grandfather," said Hugh, when the mast was fairly established, and the rigging properly arranged, "may I call my vessel the 'Firefly?'" From whence came the rich warm blood that in a moment suffused the old man's cheek, as his unconscious grandchild pronounced the name of his darling, his long-lost, but not forgotten ship? He grasped the boy's arm with the energy of former times, and shook him as he never thought to have shaken the child of his own Barbara. "Where heard you those words--where, I say?" he demanded of his namesake, while the boy cowered, and the other children stood aghast. "I heard that wild old man who died in our barn last week, although mother made him so comfortable, and you and father were so kind to him, say that was the name of a ship you once had," sobbed little Hugh: "and I only thought I should like to call mine after it." "And was that indeed all?" inquired the aged Buccaneer, relaxing his grasp, but still looking into the boy's ingenuous countenance, as if he expected some evil tidings. "It was all that I understood," replied the child, now weeping from pain and terror, "except that I remember he asked to be buried at East-Church, because that was nearer what he called the Gull's Nest Crag than the old church of Minster." "Poor Jack!--poor Jack Roupall!" exclaimed Dalton, forgetting his momentary displeasure, and musing aloud upon the end of his ever reckless follower--"Poor Jack! The nut _had_ been good, fresh, sweet, wholesome, though the rind was rough and bitter; it was the canker that destroyed it: and I should have been as bad--as blighted--lost--but for my own sweet child." And then Hugh Dalton's eye fell upon the pouting boy, whose arm he had, in the anguish of his remembrance, pressed too roughly, and he caught him to his bosom, and blessed him with all his heart and soul. Little Con crept round, and, seeing where her brother's arm was still red, held it to her grandfather's lip, saying, "Kiss, kiss it, and make it well." The old man did as that child in her simplicity directed; and, when she again looked upon it, there was more than one tear glistening on the fair firm flesh. "Let us call her 'King Charles,'" exclaimed the eldest boy, as the gallant little vessel moved down the stream; while the children, who not ten minutes before were trembling with alarm at their grandfather's displeasure, now, with the happy versatility of youthful spirits, shouted gaily at the ship's progress over the unrippled waters. "You will call it by no such name," said Dalton gravely. "Yonder comes your mother, and she or your father can best christen your little ship." The old man, who had launched their fairy boat, turned towards where once Cecil Place had stood. From some peculiar feeling in the bosoms of Sir Walter and Lady Cecil, for which it would not be difficult to account, only a portion of the old structure remained--sufficient, and just sufficient, to lodge Robin, and Robin's wife, and Robin's father-in-law, and Robin's children. The fine old gateway was fast crumbling to decay, and, indeed, it was well known that a kindly sentiment towards the Buccaneer decided Sir Walter on keeping even so much of the place standing, as the old man's only wish now was to die in the Isle of Shepey; and it will be readily believed that Hugh Dalton's wishes were laws to the family of Cecil. The trees had in many places been levelled, and the only spot which remained perfectly untouched in the gardens was one called "The Fairy Ring." The neighbouring peasantry believed that it was hallowed by some remembrance of which both Lady Cecil and Barbara partook; for the latter tended every herb and flower therein with more than common care--with perfect devotion. Did we say there was but one spot cherished? faithless historians that we are! there was another--a rustic temple; and, about ten years before the period of which we now treat, something resembling an altar had been erected therein, with a quaint device carved in white stone, a braid of hair encircling two hearts, and a rhyme, or, as it was then called, a posy, the words of which are not recorded, but were said to have been written by Lucy Hutchinson, as a compliment to her friend Constantia Cecil. The old man, as we have said, turned towards Cecil Place, which then presented only the appearance of a small and picturesque dwelling. Issuing thence were two persons whom we may at once introduce as the manikin, Robin Hays, and the little Puritan, Barbara Iverk, of our story. Manikin, indeed! He of the gay pink doublet, silken hose, and plume hat, would little thank us for the term! He was rather over than under-dressed, more fine than might be expected in a country gentleman in so lonely an island; but it was evident he loved finery, and loved to deck his own person: his long black hair curled naturally and gracefully over his shoulders; his eyes had more to do, during latter years, with love and home, than with hate and adventure; consequently they sparkled with pure and kindly feeling; and if sometimes sarcasm lighted its beacon within their lids, it was quickly extinguished by the devoted affection and gratitude of his right excellent heart. His figure appeared much less disproportioned than when first we saw him taunted into fury in his mother's hostelry by poor Jack Roupall's ill-timed jests on his deformity: he was much stouter; and the full cavalier dress was better calculated to hide any defects of person, than the tight fitting vests of the bygone Roundheads, who looked to every inch of cloth with a carefulness altogether scouted by their more heedless successors. He had a free and open air, and a smile of dazzling brightness. What can we say of Barbara? Female beauty is seldom stationary; there is no use in disguising the fact, that after twenty--dear, sweet, fascinating twenty! the freshness of the rose is gone. We have said freshness--_not_ fragrance. Fragrance to the rose, is what the soul is to the body--an imperishable essence, that lasts after the petals have meekly dropped, one by one, upon their mother-earth. A blessing upon the fragrance of sweet flowers! and a thousand blessings upon the power that gifted their leaves with such a dowry! Oh, it partakes of heaven to walk into the pastures and inhale the goodness of the Lord, from the myriad field-flowers that gem the earth with beauty! And then in sickness! What, what is so refreshing as the perfume of sweet plants? We speak not of the glazed and costly things that come from foreign lands, but of the English nosegay--(how we love the homely word!)--the sweet briar, lavender, cowslip, violet, lily of the valley, or a sprig of meadow sweet, a branch of myrtle, a tuft of primroses, or handful of wild thyme! Such near the couch of sickness are worth a host of powdered doctors! Again we say, a blessing on sweet flowers! And now for one who loved them well, and learnt much wisdom "from every leaf that clothed her native hills." Barbara was no longer the slight, delicate girl, tripping with an orderly but light step to do the behests of those she loved; but a sober, diligent, affectionate matron, zealous in the discharge of her duty, patient in supporting pain, whether of mind or body; a sincere Christian, a kind mistress, a gentle daughter, a wise mother, but, above all, a devoted, trusting wife, still looking upon Robin--her Robin, as the English Solomon,--a system we advise all wives to follow--when they can. The manner in which this truly pious woman yielded to all her husband's whims was almost marvellous--one of the miracles of that miracle-worker--LOVE! With the simple, yet discriminating tact, of itself a gift from nature, which no earthly power can either bestow or teach, she understood the wishes of Robin almost before he was himself acquainted with his own thoughts. And had she been on her death-bed, that excellent creature could have declared before Him, to whom all things are known, that "God and her husband" had been her true heart's motto. Even Robin's weaknesses were hallowed, if not cherished things--she innocently catered to his personal vanity, for she really loved to see him well appointed; and she avoided every thing bordering on gaiety of dress, manner, or society, because she felt that jealousy was one of his infirmities; thus by never arousing his evil passions, their very existence was forgotten, and the violent, capricious Ranger would have been hardly recognized (except by his very intimates), as the self-satisfied, and somewhat important manager of Sir Walter Cecil's estates. As Robin and Barbara drew near their father and the children, they perceived a Cavalier well mounted, and attended by two serving men, also on horseback, winding along the hill path, or road, as it was called; and the younger dog--by the way a daughter of our old acquaintance Blanche--gave notice to the little mariners of the approach, by bristling her silken hair and rounding her flapping ears, while she barked long and loudly at the unusual arrival. The Buccaneer shaded his eyes with his hand and looked out. Robin jerked his hat a little more on one side, while Barbara drew the Flanders lace of her silken hood more closely round her face. "It is a Court Cavalier," exclaimed _Master Hays_, as he was respectfully termed by his associates, "with two attendants and a dog; beshrew me! but a noble dog from foreign parts; some friend of our kind master is that gentleman. One would think he was reconnoitring, so earnestly does he look out from place to place. Father," he continued, drawing towards Dalton, "do you note how he peers out yonder, towards where once--you understand me----" "I do," replied the old man, "I do note it; and I note also that yon same Cavalier is no other than one we both knew well. There! he sees us--his hat is off--he hails us right joyfully. Know you not the bold brow, and the bright eye--blue, blue as the waters and the heavens he has so long looked upon? Off with ye'r hats, my boys," he added to the children; "and, Robin, is yours nailed to your head, that it answers not his signal?--it is the young sea captain of whom, even here, we have heard and read so much. It is Springall!" And so it was; distinguished by the Protector at the very moment when to be so distinguished makes a man's fortune, the bold intrepid boy quickly ripened into the able and experienced seaman. His promotion was rapid, because his talents were appreciated--and, after the death of Cromwell, he had been too much occupied with England's enemies at sea, to suffer from the moral blight of Charles's court on shore. * * * * * "Now, Springall--I love to call you by that name," said the Buccaneer, "though you have taken your old one, and made it even more honoured than it was before,--the evening has closed in--the children a-bed--God bless them! We will draw nearer round our cheerful hearth, and talk of days long gone. Barbara, let's have some fresh logs on the fire; and now, for past and present times." "I am a bad hand at a long yarn--you know I always was so, captain,"--said the naval officer, smiling, "and the news of poor Jack's death has damped my canvass. I always thought he'd make a queer end of it--so fond of plunder--so careless--so unprincipled--but brave, brave to the backbone." "Do you remember what he dared, by way of adventure, not a hundred miles from this; when Major Wellmore and Walter De Guerre were masquing it here so gaily?" inquired Robin. "Ay, ay! But he and Grimstone were both half-seas over, or they'd have hardly ventured it:--poor Grim paid the penalty." "And deserved it too," added Robin. "He whom they assaulted was a wonder--a being that will serve future ages to talk about, when the rulers of the present day are either execrated or forgotten. Marry! but it makes one's head swim to think of the warm blood and true that has been spilled and wasted to raise up a throne for obscenity and folly! Chambering and wantonness walk together as twin-born, along the very halls where Cromwell, and Ireton, and Milton, and--my head's too hot to recollect their names; but they are graven on my heart, as men who made England a Queen among the nations." "Then their Popery plots!" chimed in the Buccaneer; "the innocent blood that has flooded the scaffold, as if the earth was thirsty for it--and upon what grounds? the evidence, I hear, of one villain, supported by the evidence of another! I grieve for one thing, truly--that I was ever instrumental in forwarding the King's views. Robin said a true word in jest the other day, that men as well as puppies were born blind, only it takes a much longer period to open our eyes, than those of our four-footed friends." "So it does," said Springall, laughing; "that was one of Robin's wise sayings. Barbara!--I beg your pardon,--Mistress Hays--do you think him as wise as ever?" "I always thought him wise; but I know it now," she replied, smiling. "Sit ye down, Barbara," said Robin, "and our friend here will tell you how much he admires our children; they are fine, healthy, and, though I say it, handsome--straight withal--straight as Robin Hood's own arrow; and I do bless God for that--for that especially! I would rather have seen them dead at my feet than----" "Now, God forgive you, Rob! so would not I. I should have loved them as well, had they been crooked as--" interrupted his wife. "Their father!" "For shame, Robin!" Robin looked at Barbara and laughed, but turned away his head; and then he looked a second time, and saw that a deep red hue had mounted to his wife's cheek, while a tear stood in her eye; and he forgot the stranger's presence, and converted the tear to a gentle satisfied smile, by a kind and affectionate kiss. How little tenderness, how little, how very little, does it take to constitute the happiness of a simple mind! "There was a strange long preacher here, ages ago," inquired Springall, filling his silver cup with sherris; "he surely did not migrate with the higher powers?" "No!" replied Dalton, whose eyes had been fixed upon the burning logs, as if recapitulating the events of former days; "he was a staunch and true-hearted Puritan, apt to take wrong notions in tow, and desperately bitter against Papistry, which same bitterness is a log I never could read, seeing that the best all sects can accomplish is to act up to the belief they have. But, as I have said, he was true-hearted, and never recovered the tale we heard, as to the way in which the new directors insulted the remains of one whom they trembled even to look at in his lifetime. He died off, sir, like an autumn breeze, chilly and weak, but praying, and thankful that God was so good as to remove him from the blight of the Philistines, who covered the earth as thickly as the locusts overspread the land of Egypt." "I never did, nor ever can believe," said Robin, "it was permitted that such cravens should insult the body of so great a soul. The Protector wished to be buried on the field of Naseby, and something tells me he had his wish." "Your politics changed as well as mine!" replied the sea-captain; "what cavaliers we were in the days of our youth--heh, Commandant!" "It is very odd, Springall," replied the old Skipper; "but somehow, my heart is too full for words; I seem to be living my life over again; and but now could have sworn I saw poor Sir Robert, as I saw him last, clutching those dreaded papers. What a night that was, and what a day the next!" "And the poor Lady Zillah, when she heard of Sir Willmott's end!" said Barbara. "She spoke no word, she made no scream; but her trouble came quickly, and hard and bitter it was; and the child her hope rested on breathed no breath--there was no heir to the house of Burrell; and she and her father passed from the land, and were seen no more." "Seen no more, certainly; but many were the jewels and costly the tirings she sent from foreign parts to my lady's firstborn," continued Robin. "And to me she sent baubles,--not baubles either," added Barbara, "but things too costly for one in my state. Her last gift was the most precious in my sight--a gold cross, and along the top these words--'Thy God shall be my God;' and down the centre--'Thy people my people!' It gave me great consolation; it was like a token of resignation and peace, and a wonderful working of God's providence." And after she had so said, she went out of the room, to conceal the emotion she always felt when speaking of the Jewish lady. "So it was undoubtedly," rejoined Robin, who had not noted Barbara's departure. "Despite your bravery, Master," said the seaman, "I think you have got a touch of the past times yourself; I have not heard the breath of an oath from either?" "Hush!" replied Robin, looking round the room, and right pleased to find that Barbara was absent: "were it only to avoid giving her pain, it would ill become either of us to blaspheme Him in whom we trust." "And so you say," commenced Dalton, uniting the thread of the discourse, which had been broken, "that Sir Walter and Lady Cecil are seldom seen at court? I heard this before, but not for certain." "Seldom, you may well say," returned Springall; "the king presented Lady Castlemaine to the Lady Constantia, at one of the drawing-rooms; and our right noble dame declared it was the last she would ever attend. It was said that the king spoke to Sir Walter about it; and I think it likely, as he knew him abroad so well. And Sir Walter was even more high on the matter than his lady had been; and the king jested, and said it was only the court fashion; to which Sir Walter returned for answer, that, however it might be the court fashion, it was scarce courtly to present an immodest to a modest woman. With that the king chafed, and said he supposed Lady Constantia's friendship for Dame Frances Russell was stronger than her loyalty, for she regarded Cromwell's daughter, both as RICH and RUSSELL, more than she did his favour. And Sir Walter, making a low bow, replied that Lady Constantia had little thought to displease her king by her attachment to a lady who had once been honoured by the offer of his hand. Upon which the king bit his lip, turned upon his heel, and spoke no farther word to Sir Walter Cecil." "Good! good! good!" exclaimed Robin with manifest delight, chuckling and rubbing his hands, "that _was_ good! How it warms my heart when an honest subject speaks to a king as man to man, feeling he has no cause to dread his frown or court his smile. Brave! brave, Sir Walter! There is a moral dignity, a fearlessness in truth, that makes one not tread--not tread, mind ye, but spurn the earth he walks upon. If we would not be of the earth, earthy, but of the heavens, heavenly, we must be independent in thought and action! Brave, brave Sir Walter!" "Master Robin," said the captain, looking earnestly in his countenance, and half-inclined to smile at his enthusiasm--"Master Robin, _that_'s not the court fashion." "D--n the court!" shouted the Ranger; then suddenly checking himself, he added, turning to his wife, whose return he had not heeded,--"I beg your pardon, my dear Barbara,--it was his fault, not mine. Nay, I have said nothing half so wicked this long, long time. Come, tell me, did you see Sir Walter's children, Captain? Oliver, he is the first-born, a noble boy? Then,--I forget their names; but I know there is neither a Herbert nor a Robert among them. Alas! there are good reasons why it should so be. I think Richard Cromwell stood godfather to the eldest." "Richard Cromwell!" repeated Springall, in a tone of contempt. "He was wise, though; he felt that he had not his father's talents, consequently could not maintain his father's power," observed Robin. "Master Hays," inquired Springall, wisely avoiding any topic likely to excite political difference, "you are an oracle, and can tell me what has become of my worthy friend, that most excellent compounder of confections, Solomon Grundy?" "Poor Solomon!" replied Robin, "he accompanied the family after Sir Robert's death,--which was lingering enough, to set forth more brightly the virtues of both daughter and nephew,--to London, and was choked by devouring too hastily a French prawn! Poor Solomon! it was as natural for him so to die as for a soldier to fall on the field of battle." "So it was," replied the seaman; "but having discussed the events and the persons with whom we had most to do in past years, let us, before entering on other subjects, fill a bumper to the health of my long cherished, and, despite his faults, my trusty beloved friend--the OLD BUCCANEER! Much has he occupied my thoughts, and it joys me to find him, and leave him, where an old man ought to be--in the bosom of his true and beautiful family. We have all faults," continued the officer, somewhat moved by the good sherris and his own good feeling--"for it's a well-written log that has no blots; but hang it, as I said before, I never could spin a yarn like my friend Robin here, either from the wheel, which I mean to typify the head--or the distaff, which, be it understood, signifies the heart: So here goes--" and, with a trembling hand, and a sparkling eye, the generous Springall drained the deep tankard, to the health of his first sea friend. "It is not seemly in woman to drink of strong waters or glowing wine," said Barbara, whose tearful eyes rested upon the time-worn features of her father: "but, God knows, my heart is often so full of grateful thanks, that I lack words to speak my happiness; and I have need of constant watchfulness to prevent the creature from occupying the place of the Creator. My father has sometimes hours of bitterness, yet I bless God he is not as a brand consumed in the burning, but rather as gold purified and cleansed by that which devoureth our impurities, but maketh great that which deserveth greatness. As to Robin----" "Don't turn me into a fable, wife!" exclaimed Robin, playfully interrupting her:--"I am, in my own proper person, an �sop as it is. There has been enough of all this for to-night: we will but pledge another cup to the health of Sir Walter, the Lady Constance, and their children--and then to bed; and may all sleep well whose hearts are innocent as yours, Barbara! and I hope I may add without presumption, purified as mine. You see, Springall, the earth that nourishes the rose may in time partake of its fragrance." THE END. LONDON: Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE. * * * * * TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and inconsistent hyphenation. Obvious typographical errors in punctuation (misplaced quotes and the like) have been fixed. Corrections [in brackets] in the text are noted below: title page caption: carved chair, which he leaned over pulpit-fashion, was seen the lean, lanky figure of Fleetwood[Fleetword]. page 13: added missing quote "In mine!" ejaculated the Baronet with well-feigned astonishment; ["]you mistake, good Dalton, I have no interest page 15: added missing quote her goodness to my child! Remember," he added, closing the door, ["]remember--one month, and Hugh Dalton!" page 41: typo fixed around me grows darker each fair day I live. A bunch of violets was given me this morning; their fragance[fragrance] was delicious, yet I could not discern the little yellow germ page 46: typo fixed "Nor I either," thought Lady Frances: "but, barbara,[Barbara] you might think--or--or--see perhaps----" page 57: added missing quote "Robin!["] I came not here to talk of cormorants and gulls; I want to ask you a question, and I expect an honest page 65: typo fixed "Then who is she?" he demanded; "I'll not stir in it uness[unless] I know all." page 77: typo fixed used to be a safe place enough; but now that Sir Michael Livesay[Livesey]--regicide that he is!--abides so continually at page 77: spurious quote removed "Pshaw, Robin! but is he indeed so red-nosed?["] You have often seen him, Captain." page 80: typo fixed The Reverend Jonas Fleetwood[Fleetword] had set forth from the sole desire of "beholding him who was anointed with the oil of page 92: typo fixed "Walter De Guerre!--an English christian[Christian] wedded to a French surname!--'tis strange, but let it pass, let it pass: page 95: typo fixed "I thank you for your bounty, sir; but at present I feel inclined to sheathe, not draw my swoad[sword]." page 101: typo fixed he had declared himself quite recovered, did she return to her station on the low fofa[sofa], beside her friend Lady Frances page 110: spurious quote removed pictures; that, if the Rabbi would look, he would observe the hair and eyes to be much lighter.["] page 121: typo fixed "I did hope, sir, that you would have left Cecil Place before this; Sir Wilmott[Willmott] Burrell will, I am certain, arrive page 131: typo fixed she had observed both characters narrowy[narrowly], and was perfectly convinced of Burrell's worthlessness. She could page 139: spurious quote removed feature, as it were, bursting with indignation, she looked like a youthful priestess denouncing vengeance on a sinful world.["] page 142: added missing quote "And you will be happy; or if not, you will not curse him who has wrought your misery?["] page 156: added missing quote "Touch her not,["] exclaimed Burrell, the brutality of his vile nature fully awakened at perceiving Walter attempt to page 166: typo fixed breathe the air of this polluted nest," argued Dalton, all the father oveflowing[overflowing] at his heart; "if we delay, page 174: typo fixed Hugh was prevented from finishing his sentence by the sudden entrance of Sir Wilmott[Willmott] Burrell, who appeared in the page 176: typo fixed They had not gone three steps on their path when Sir Willmott's[Willmott's] voice arrested their progress. page 180: typo fixed had not spent a day beneath the roof were[where] he was now a prisoner; that she had been any thing but worthy of the page 180: typo fixed eyes upon the young Cavalier, who, when perfectly awake, perceived that his visiter[visitor] was dressed and armed as \ page 181: added missing quote ["]Lady Frances, I dare say, has," persisted Walter: "light o' lip, light o' sleep." page 188: added missing quote ["]We must not so mingle profane and sacred things," murmured Fleetword, placing his forefinger upon the tempting page 189: typo fixed "What! spoil my garnishing!" exclaimed Grundy![,] "look at the frosting of that horn, and the device, the two doves--see'st page 192: typo fixed sudden her lady wanted her to get some flowers, and she had only time to throw on her cardinal and run for them?[.]" page 203: typo fixed Buccaneer and Sir Wilmott[Willmott] Burrell; merely observing that it had the effect of chafing both in no ordinary degree. page 237: typo fixed for minstrelsy was not the fashion; and he almost began to thing[think] the disguise he had selected was an injudicious page 238: spurious quote removed ["]The old man shuddered, and said in an agitated voice--"Then, indeed, you will not do for me on this occasion." page 255: spurious quote removed and faithfulness must be a plant of forced and not of natural growth.["] page 277: added missing quote or other; but you, my Lord," he added, pointedly, ["]will have no difficulty in finding him out." page 296: typo fixed "Sit down, my good sir; compose yourelf[yourself]--you are much agitated--I pray you be composed." page 330: typo fixed engaged, and the garden free from visiters[visitors]. He looked from the window; it was one of the loveliest days of summer--a page 338: added missing quote "Do but bury _that_!" said Robin: ["]I would stay and do it, but that I must to the Nest at once." page 341: added missing period down in the dingle, and the beast is driving up the fold as if he were a man[.]" page 354: added missing quote ["]Then Barbara, whose blood was streaming from her wound, sprang to my bosom--sweet girl!--and hung, as I thought, page 355: added missing quote ["]I carried her round the chapel, and sank with her into the vault, where I had been concealed--that which contains the page 360: duplicate word removed didn't pray more, going that length of road, than you, and I, and all the [the] crew of the Fire-fly put together, have prayed page 367: spurious quote removed clanked against each other impatient of moisture--"Mother, take but little["] for you have need of prayer; that will stifle page 368: added comma the hair from my ears, that I may hear distinctly. Did you mean, young woman[,] that Sir Robert was distraught--mad?" page 394: typo fixed effects of terror and astonishment, looked like the sybil[sibyl] whose spells and orgies have distracted nature by some terrible page 414: typo fixed "Sir Willmot[Willmott] Burrell," said Dalton, walking to where he stood, beaten down and trampled, yet full of poison as an page 419: typo fixed tripped with a light step on her inqusiitive[inquisitive] mission: "I will now go to my father's chamber;" and thither she went, page 421: spurious quote removed and the maid Barbara. Well, girls have queer fancies!--Who'd ha' thought she'd ha' fancied Robin?["]--though he's a brave page 430: added missing quote "They will do very nicely indeed, Conny," replied the old man, with an approving smile; ["]and as for you, Master Walter, page 431: typo fixed asked to be buried at East-church[East-Church], because that was nearer what he called the Gull's Nest Crag than the old church 
29316	----	[Illustration: Sir Henry Morgan--Buccaneer.] _Sir Henry Morgan, BUCCANEER_ _A Romance of the Spanish Main_ _BY_ _CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY_ _Author of "For Love of Country," "For the Freedom of the Sea," "The Southerners," "Hohenzollern," "The Quiberon Touch," "Woven with the Ship," "In the Wasp's Nest," Etc._ [Illustration] _Illustrations by J.N. MARCHAND and WILL CRAWFORD_ G.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY THE PEARSON PUBLISHING COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY G.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1903, IN GREAT BRITAIN [_All rights reserved_] _Sir Henry Morgan, Buccaneer_ _Issued October, 1903_ _TO MY ONLY BROTHER_ COLONEL JASPER EWING BRADY _LATE U.S. ARMY_ "Woe to the realms which he coasted! for there Was shedding of blood and rending of hair, Rape of maiden and slaughter of priest, Gathering of ravens and wolves to the feast; When he hoisted his standard black, Before him was battle, behind him wrack, And he burned the churches, that heathen Dane, To light his band to their barks again." SCOTT: "Harold the Dauntless." _PREFACE_ In literature there have been romantic pirates, gentlemanly pirates, kind-hearted pirates, even humorous pirates--in fact, all sorts and conditions of pirates. In life there was only one kind. In this book that kind appears. Several presentations--in the guise of novels--of pirates, the like of which never existed on land or sea, have recently appeared. A perusal of these interesting romances awoke in me a desire to write a story of a real pirate, a pirate of the genuine species. Much research for historical essays, amid ancient records and moldy chronicles, put me in possession of a vast amount of information concerning the doings of the greatest of all pirates; a man unique among his nefarious brethren, in that he played the piratical game so successfully that he received the honor of knighthood from King Charles II. A belted knight of England, who was also a brutal, rapacious, lustful, murderous villain and robber--and undoubtedly a pirate, although he disguised his piracy under the name of buccaneering--is certainly a striking and unusual figure. Therefore, when I imagined my pirate story I pitched upon Sir Henry Morgan as _the_ character of the romance. It will spare the critic to admit that the tale hereinafter related is a work of the imagination, and is not an historical romance. According to the latest accounts, Sir Henry Morgan, by a singular oversight of Fate, who must have been nodding at the time, died in his bed--not peacefully I trust--and was buried in consecrated ground. But I do him no injustice, I hasten to assure the reader, in the acts that I have attributed to him, for they are more than paralleled by the well authenticated deeds of this human monster. I did not even invent the blowing up of the English frigate in the action with the Spanish ships. If I have assumed for the nonce the attributes of that unaccountably somnolent Fate, and brought him to a terrible end, I am sure abundant justification will be found in the recital of his mythical misdeeds, which, I repeat, were not a circumstance to his real transgressions. Indeed, one has to go back to the most cruel and degenerate of the Roman emperors to parallel the wickednesses of Morgan and his men. It is not possible to put upon printed pages explicit statements of what they did. The curious reader may find some account of these "Gentlemen of the Black Flag," so far as it can be translated into present-day books intended for popular reading, in my volume of "COLONIAL FIGHTS AND FIGHTERS." The writing of this novel has been by no means an easy task. How to convey clearly the doings of the buccaneer so there could be no misapprehension on the part of the reader, and yet to write with due delicacy and restraint a book for the general public, has been a problem with which I have wrestled long and arduously. The whole book has been completely revised some six times. Each time I have deleted something, which, while it has refined, I trust has not impaired the strength of the tale. If the critic still find things to censure, let him pass over charitably in view of what might have been! As to the other characters, I have done violence to the name and fame of no man, for all of those who played any prominent part among the buccaneers in the story were themselves men scarcely less criminal than Morgan. Be it known that I have simply appropriated names, not careers. They all had adventures of their own and were not associated with Morgan in life. Teach--I have a weakness for that bad young man--is known to history as "Blackbeard"--a much worse man than the roaring singer of these pages. The delectable Hornigold, the One-Eyed, with the "wild justice" of his revenge, was another real pirate. So was the faithful Black Dog, the maroon. So were Raveneau de Lussan, Rock Braziliano, L'Ollonois, Velsers, Sawkins, and the rest. In addition to my desire to write a real story of a real pirate I was actuated by another intent. There are numberless tales of the brave days of the Spanish Main, from "Westward Ho!" down. In every one of them, without exception, the hero is a noble, gallant, high-souled, high-spirited, valiant descendant of the Anglo-Saxon race, while the villain--and such villains they are!--is always a proud and haughty Spaniard, who comes to grief dreadfully in the final trial which determines the issue. My sympathies, from a long course of reading of such romances, have gone out to the under Don. I determined to write a story with a Spanish gentleman for the hero, and a Spanish gentlewoman for the heroine, and let the position of villain be filled by one of our own race. Such things were, and here they are. I have dwelt with pleasure on the love affairs of the gallant Alvarado and the beautiful Mercedes. But, after all, the story is preëminently the story of Morgan. I have striven to make it a character sketch of that remarkable personality. I wished to portray his ferocity and cruelty, his brutality and wantonness, his treachery and rapacity; to exhibit, without lightening, the dark shadows of his character, and to depict his inevitable and utter breakdown finally; yet at the same time to bring out his dauntless courage, his military ability, his fertility and resourcefulness, his mastery of his men, his capacity as a seaman, which are qualities worthy of admiration. Yet I have not intended to make him an admirable figure. To do that would be to falsify history and disregard the artistic canons. So I have tried to show him as he was; great and brave, small and mean, skilful and able, greedy and cruel; and lastly, in his crimes and punishment, a coward. And if a mere romance may have a lesson, here in this tale is one of a just retribution, exhibited in the awful, if adequate, vengeance finally wreaked upon Morgan by those whom he had so fearfully and dreadfully wronged. CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY. BROOKLYN, N.Y., _December, 1902_. NOTE.--The date of the sack of Panama has been advanced to comply with the demands of this romance. _TABLE OF CONTENTS_ BOOK I. HOW SIR HENRY MORGAN IN HIS OLD AGE RESOLVED TO GO A-BUCCANEERING AGAIN. CHAPTER PAGE I.--Wherein Sir Henry Morgan made good use of the ten minutes allowed him 25 II.--How Master Benjamin Hornigold, the One-Eyed, agreed to go with his old Captain 45 III.--In which Sir Henry Morgan finds himself at the head of a crew once more 65 IV.--Which tells how the _Mary Rose_, frigate, changed masters and flags 81 BOOK II. THE CRUISE OF THE BUCCANEERS AND WHAT BEFEL THEM ON THE SEAS. CHAPTER PAGE V.--How the _Mary Rose_ overhauled three Spanish treasure ships 97 VI.--In which is related the strange expedient of the Captain and how they took the great galleon 115 VII.--Wherein Bartholomew Sawkins mutinied against his Captain and what befel him on that account 128 VIII.--How they strove to club-haul the galleon and failed to save her on the coast of Caracas 145 BOOK III. WHICH TREATS OF THE TANGLED LOVE AFFAIRS OF THE PEARL OF CARACAS. CHAPTER PAGE IX.--Discloses the hopeless passion between Donna Mercedes de Lara and Captain Dominique Alvarado, the Commandante of La Guayra 161 X.--How Donna Mercedes tempted her lover and how he strove valiantly to resist her appeals 174 XI.--Wherein Captain Alvarado pledges his word to the Viceroy of Venezuela, the Count Alvaro de Lara, and to Don Felipe de Tobar, his friend 190 XII.--Shows how Donna Mercedes chose death rather than give up Captain Alvarado, and what befel them on the road over the mountains 200 XIII.--In which Captain Alvarado is forsworn and with Donna Mercedes in his arms breaks his plighted word 218 BOOK IV. IN WHICH IS RELATED AN ACCOUNT OF THE TAKING OF LA GUAYRA BY THE BUCCANEERS AND THE DREADFUL PERILS OF DONNA MERCEDES DE LARA AND CAPTAIN ALVARADO IN THAT CITY. CHAPTER PAGE XIV.--Wherein the crew of the galleon intercepts the two lovers by the way 231 XV.--Tells how Mercedes de Lara returned the unsought caress of Sir Henry Morgan and the means by which the buccaneers surmounted the walls 248 XVI.--In which Benjamin Hornigold recognizes a cross and Captain Alvarado finds and loses a mother on the strand 265 XVII.--Which describes an audience with Sir Henry Morgan and the treachery by which Captain Alvarado benefited 283 BOOK V. HOW THE SPANIARDS RE-TOOK LA GUAYRA AND HOW CAPTAIN ALVARADO FOUND A NAME AND SOMETHING DEARER STILL IN THE CITY. CHAPTER PAGE XVIII.--Discloses the way in which Mercedes de Lara fought with woman's cunning against Captain Henry Morgan 301 XIX.--How Captain Alvarado crossed the mountains, found the Viceroy, and placed his life in his master's hands 326 XX.--Wherein Master Teach, the pirate, dies better than he lived 347 XXI.--The recital of how Captain Alvarado and Don Felipe de Tobar came to the rescue in the nick of time 354 XXII.--In which Sir Henry Morgan sees a cross, cherishes a hope, and makes a claim 370 XXIII.--How the good priest, Fra Antonio de Las Casas, told the truth, to the great relief of Captain Alvarado and Donna Mercedes, and the discomfiture of Master Benjamin Hornigold and Sir Henry Morgan 385 XXIV.--In which Sir Henry Morgan appeals unavailingly alike to the pity of woman, the forgiveness of priest, the friendship of comrade, and the hatred of men 402 BOOK VI. IN WHICH THE CAREER OF SIR HENRY MORGAN IS ENDED ON ISLA DE LA TORTUGA, TO THE GREAT DELECTATION OF MASTER BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD, HIS SOMETIME FRIEND. CHAPTER PAGE XXV.--And last. Wherein is seen how the judgment of God came upon the buccaneers in the end 421 _ILLUSTRATIONS_ BY J.N. MARCHAND Sir Henry Morgan--Buccaneer _Frontispiece_ PAGE With the point of his own sword pressed against the back of his neck, he repeated the message which Morgan had given him (_see page 39_) 41 Their blades crossed in an instant ... There was a roar from Carib's pistol, and the old man fell (_see page 87_) 89 Morgan instantly snatched a pistol from de Lussan's hand and shot the man dead (_see page 138_) 139 Alvarado threw his right arm around her, and with a force superhuman dragged her from the saddle (_see page 217_) 215 The moonlight shone full upon her face, and as he stooped over he scanned it with his one eye (_see page 267_) 269 ... he reached the summit--breathless, exhausted, unhelmed, weaponless, coatless, in rags; torn, bruised, bleeding, but unharmed (_see page 332_) 333 ... he threw the contents at the feet of the buccaneer, and there rolled before him the severed head of ... his solitary friend (_see page 412_) 413 Hell had no terror like to this, which he, living, suffered (_see page 443_) 441 BY WILL CRAWFORD PAGE "To our next meeting, Mr. Bradley" (_see page 44_) 25 There was one man ... who did not join in the singing (_see page 49_) 45 Carlingford had risen in his boat ... and with dauntless courage he shook his bared sword (_see page 91_) 81 The high poop and rail of the Spaniard was black with iron-capped men (_see page 121_) 115 "Wilt obey me in the future?" cried the captain (_see page 143_) 128 "Are you in a state for a return journey at once, señor?" he asked of the young officer (_see page 173_) 161 "The fault is mine," said Alvarado (_see page 183_) 174 Early as it was, the Viceroy and his officers ... bid the travelers Godspeed (_see page 200_) 200 During the intervals of repose the young man allowed his party, the two lovers were constantly together (_see page 224_) 218 But de Lussan shot him dead, and before the others could make a move, Morgan stepped safely on the sand (_see page 239_) 241 "Slay them, O God! Strike and spare not!" (_see page 281_) 265 "What would you do for him?" "My life for his," she answered bravely (_see page 289_) 283 "Hast another weapon in thy bodice?" (_see page 319_) 321 Quite the best of the pirates, he! (_see page 351_) 347 By an impulse ... she slipped her arms around his neck ... and kissed him (_see page 366_) 354 "Treachery? My lord, his was the first" (_see page 378_) 370 "'Tis a certificate of marriage of----" (_see page 400_) 385 "God help me!" cried Alvarado, throwing aside the poniard, "I cannot" (_see page 386_) 387 "I wanted to let you know there was water here.... There is not enough for both of us. Who will get it? I; look!" (_see page 436_) 437 "Harry Morgan's way to lead--old Ben Hornigold's to follow--ha, ha! ho, ho!" He waded out into the water ... (_see page 444_) 445 BOOK I HOW SIR HENRY MORGAN IN HIS OLD AGE RESOLVED TO GO A-BUCCANEERING AGAIN _SIR HENRY MORGAN, BUCCANEER_ CHAPTER I WHEREIN SIR HENRY MORGAN MADE GOOD USE OF THE TEN MINUTES ALLOWED HIM His Gracious Majesty, King Charles II. of England, in sportive--and acquisitive--mood, had made him a knight; but, as that merry monarch himself had said of another unworthy subject whom he had ennobled--his son, by the left hand--"God Almighty could not make him a gentleman!" [Illustration] Yet, to the casual inspection, little or nothing appeared to be lacking to entitle him to all the consideration attendant upon that ancient degree. His attire, for instance, might be a year or two behind the fashion of England and still further away from that of France, then, as now, the standard maker in dress, yet it represented the extreme of the mode in His Majesty's fair island of Jamaica. That it was a trifle too vivid in its colors, and too striking in its contrasts for the best taste at home, possibly might be condoned by the richness of the material used and the prodigality of trimming which decorated it. Silk and satin from the Orient, lace from Flanders, leather from Spain, with jewels from everywhere, marked him as a person entitled to some consideration, at least. Even more compulsory of attention, if not of respect, were his haughty, overbearing, satisfied manner, his look of command, the expression of authority in action he bore. Quite in keeping with his gorgeous appearance was the richly furnished room in which he sat in autocratic isolation, plumed hat on head, quaffing, as became a former brother-of-the-coast and sometime buccaneer, amazing draughts of the fiery spirits of the island of which he happened to be, _ad interim_, the Royal Authority. But it was his face which attested the acuteness of the sneering observation of the unworthy giver of the royal accolade. No gentleman ever bore face like that. Framed in long, thin, gray curls which fell upon his shoulders after the fashion of the time, it was as cruel, as evil, as sensuous, as ruthless, as powerful an old face as had ever looked over a bulwark at a sinking ship, or viewed with indifference the ravaging of a devoted town. Courage there was, capacity in large measure, but not one trace of human kindness. Thin, lean, hawk-like, ruthless, cunning, weather-beaten, it was sadly out of place in its brave attire in that vaulted chamber. It was the face of a man who ruled by terror; who commanded by might. It was the face of an adventurer, too, one never sure of his position, but always ready to fight for it, and able to fight well. There was a watchful, alert, inquiring look in the fierce blue eyes, an intent, expectant expression in the craggy countenance, that told of the uncertainties of his assumptions; yet the lack of assurance was compensated for by the firm, resolute line of the mouth under the trifling upturned mustache, with its lips at the same time thin and sensual. To be fat and sensual is to appear to mitigate the latter evil with at least a pretence at good humor; to be thin and sensual is to be a devil. This man was evil, not with the grossness of a debauchee but with the thinness of the devotee. And he was an old man, too. Sixty odd years of vicious life, glossed over in the last two decades by an assumption of respectability, had swept over the gray hairs, which evoked no reverence. There was a heavy frown on his face on that summer evening in the year of our Lord, 1685. The childless wife whom he had taken for his betterment and her worsening, some ten years since--in succession to Satan only knew how many nameless, unrecognized precursors--had died a few moments before, in the chamber above his head. Fairly bought from a needy father, she had been a cloak to lend him a certain respectability when he settled down, red with the blood of thousands whom he had slain and rich with the treasure of cities that he had wasted, to enjoy the evening of his life. Like all who are used for such purposes, she knew, after a little space, the man over whom the mantle of her reputation had been flung. She had rejoiced at the near approach of that death for which she had been longing almost since her wedding day. That she had shrunk from him in the very articles of dissolution when he stood by her bedside, indicated the character of the relationship. To witness death and to cause it had been the habit of this man. He marked it in her case, as in others, with absolute indifference--he cared so little for her that he did not even feel relief at her going--yet because he was the Governor of Jamaica (really he was only the Vice-Governor, but between the departure of the Royal Governor and the arrival of another he held supreme power) he had been forced to keep himself close on the day his wife died, by that public opinion to which he was indifferent but which he could not entirely defy. Consequently he had not been on the strand at Port Royal when the _Mary Rose_, frigate, fresh from England, had dropped anchor in the harbor after her weary voyage across the great sea. He did not even yet know of her arrival, and therefore the incoming Governor had not been welcomed by the man who sat temporarily, as he had in several preceding interregnums, in the seats of the mighty. However, everybody else on the island had welcomed him with joy, for of all men who had ever held office in Jamaica Sir Henry Morgan, sometime the chief devil of those nefarious bands who disguised their piracy under the specious title of buccaneering, was the most detested. But because of the fortunate demise of Lady Morgan, as it turned out, Sir Henry was not present to greet My Lord Carlingford, who was to supersede him--and more. The deep potations the old buccaneer had indulged in to all outward intent passed harmlessly down his lean and craggy throat. He drank alone--the more solitary the drinker the more dangerous the man--yet the room had another occupant, a tall, brawny, brown-hued, grim-faced savage, whose gaudy livery ill accorded with his stern and ruthless visage. He stood by the Vice-Governor, watchful, attentive, and silent, imperturbably filling again and again the goblet from which he drank. "More rum," said the master, at last breaking the silence while lifting his tall glass toward the man. "Scuttle me, Black Dog," he added, smiling sardonically at the silent maroon who poured again with steady hand, "you are the only soul on this island who doesn't fear me. That woman above yonder, curse her, shuddered away from me as I looked at her dying. But your hand is steady. You and old Ben Hornigold are the only ones who don't shrink back, hey, Carib? Is it love or hate?" he mused, as the man made no answer. "More," he cried, again lifting the glass which he had instantly drained. But the maroon, instead of pouring, bent his head toward the window, listened a moment, and then turned and lifted a warning hand. The soft breeze of the evening, laden with the fragrance of the tropics, swept up from the river and wafted to the Vice-Governor's ears the sound of hoof beats on the hard, dry road. With senses keenly alert, he, also, listened. There were a number of them, a troop possibly. They were drawing nearer; they were coming toward his house, the slimmer house near Spanish Town, far up on the mountain side, where he sought relief from the enervating heats of the lower land. "Horsemen!" he cried. "Coming to the house! Many of them! Ah, they dismount. Go to the door, Carib." But before the maroon could obey they heard steps on the porch. Some one entered the hall. The door of the drawing-room was abruptly thrown open, and two men in the uniform of the English army, with the distinguishing marks of the Governor's Guard at Jamaica, unceremoniously entered the room. They were fully armed. One of them, the second, had drawn his sword and held a cocked pistol in the other hand. The first, whose weapons were still in their sheaths, carried a long official paper with a portentous seal dangling from it. Both were booted and spurred and dusty from riding, and both, contrary to the custom and etiquette of the island, kept their plumed hats on their heads. "Sir Henry Morgan----" began the bearer of the paper. "By your leave, gentlemen," interrupted Morgan, with an imperious wave of his hand, "Lieutenant Hawxherst and Ensign Bradley of my guard, I believe. You will uncover at once and apologize for having entered so unceremoniously." As he spoke, the Governor rose to his feet and stood by the table, his right hand unconsciously resting upon the heavy glass flagon of rum. He towered above the other two men as he stood there transfixing them with his resentful glance, his brow heavy with threat and anger. But the two soldiers made no movement toward complying with the admonition of their sometime superior. "D'ye hear me?" he cried, stepping forward, reddening with rage at their apparent contumacy. "And bethink ye, sirs, had best address me, who stand in the place of the King's Majesty, as 'Your Excellency,' or I'll have you broke, knaves." "We need no lessons in manners from you, Sir Henry Morgan," cried Hawxherst, angry in turn to be so browbeaten, though yesterday he would have taken it mildly enough. "And know by this, sir," lifting the paper, "that you are no longer Governor of this island, and can claim respect from no one." "What do you mean?" "The _Mary Rose_ frigate arrived this morning, bringing Lord Carlingford as His Majesty's new Governor, and this order of arrest." "Arrest? For whom?" "For one Sir Henry Morgan." "For what, pray?" "Well, sir, for murder, theft, treason--the catalogue fills the paper. You are to be despatched to England to await the King's pleasure. I am sent by Lord Carlingford to fetch you to the jail at Port Royal." "You seem to find it a pleasant task." "By heaven, I do, sir!" cried the soldier fiercely. "I am a gentleman born, of the proudest family in the Old Dominion, and have been forced to bow and scrape and endure your insults and commands, you bloody villain, but now----" "'Tis no part of a soldier's duty, sir, to insult a prisoner," interrupted Morgan, not without a certain dignity. He was striving to gain time to digest this surprising piece of news and thinking deeply what was to be done in this entirely unexpected crisis. "Curse it all, Hawxherst!" Ensign Bradley burst out, pulling at the sleeve of his superior. "You go too far, man; this is unseemly." Hawxherst passed his hand across his brow and by an effort somewhat regained his self-control. "Natheless 'tis in this paper writ that you are to go to England a prisoner on the _Mary Rose_, to await the King's pleasure," he added, savagely. "His Gracious Majesty hath laid his sword upon my shoulder. I am a knight of his English court, one who has served him well upon the seas. His coffers have I enriched by--but let that pass. I do not believe that King Charles, God bless him----" "Stop! The _Mary Rose_ brings the news that King Charles II. is dead, and there reigns in his stead His Gracious Majesty King James." "God rest the soul of the King!" cried Morgan, lifting his hat from his head. "He was a merry and a gallant gentleman. I know not this James. How if I do not go with you?" "You have ten minutes in which to decide, sir," answered Hawxherst. "And then?" "Then if I don't bring you forth, the men of yonder troop will come in without further order. Eh, Bradley?" "Quite so, Sir Henry," answered the younger man. "And every avenue of escape is guarded. Yield you, sir; believe me, there's naught else." "I have ten minutes then," said the old man reflectively, "ten minutes! Hum!" "You may have," answered the captain curtly, "if you choose to take so long. And I warn you," he added, "that you'd best make use of that time to bid farewell to Lady Morgan or give other order for the charge of your affairs, for 'twill be a long time, I take it, before you are back here again." "Lady Morgan is dead, gentlemen, in the room above." At this young Bradley removed his hat, an example which Hawxherst followed a moment after. They had always felt sorry for the unfortunate wife of the buccaneer. "As for my affairs, they can wait," continued Morgan slowly. "The game is not played out yet, and perchance I shall have another opportunity to arrange them. Meanwhile, fetch glasses, Carib, from yonder buffet." He nodded toward a huge sideboard which stood against the wall immediately in the rear of Ensign Bradley, and at the same time shot a swift, meaning glance at the maroon, which was not lost upon him as he moved rapidly and noiselessly in obedience. "Gentlemen, will you drink with me to our next merry meeting?" he continued, turning to them. "We're honest soldiers, honorable gentlemen, and we'll drink with no murderer, no traitor!" cried Hawxherst promptly. "So?" answered Morgan, his eye sparkling with baleful light, although he remained otherwise entirely unmoved. "And let me remind you," continued the soldier, "that your time is passing." "Well, keep fast the glasses, Carib, the gentlemen have no fancy for drinking. I suppose, sirs, that I must fain yield me, but first let me look at your order ere I surrender myself peaceably to you," said the deposed Governor, with surprising meekness. "Indeed, sir----" "'Tis my right." "Well, perchance it may be. There can be no harm in it, I think; eh, Bradley?" queried the captain, catching for the moment his subaltern's eye. Then, as the latter nodded his head, the former extended the paper to Morgan. At that instant the old buccaneer shot one desperate glance at the maroon, who stood back of the shoulder of the officer with the drawn sword and pistol. As Hawxherst extended the paper, Morgan, with the quickness of an albatross, grasped his wrist with his left hand, jerked him violently forward, and struck him a vicious blow on the temple with the heavy glass decanter, which shivered in his hand. Hawxherst pitched down at the Governor's feet, covered with blood and rum. So powerful had been Morgan's blow that the brains of the man had almost been beaten out. He lay shuddering and quivering on the floor. Quickly as Morgan struck, however, Carib had been quicker. As the glass crashed against the temple of the senior, the maroon had wrenched the pistol from the junior soldier's hand, and before he realized what had happened a cold muzzle was pressed against his forehead. "Drop that sword!" cried Morgan instantly, and as the weapon fell upon the floor, he continued, smiling: "That was well done, Black Dog. Quite like old times, eh?" "Shall I fire?" asked Carib, curling his lips over his teeth in what passed with him for a smile. "Not yet." "Your Excellency," gasped poor Bradley, "I didn't want to come. I remonstrated with him a moment since. For God's sake----" "Silence, sirrah! And how much time have I now, I wonder?" He looked at his watch as he asked the question. "Three minutes! Three minutes between you and instant death, Ensign Bradley, for should one of your men enter the room now you see what you would have to expect, sir." "Oh, sir, have mercy----" "Unless you do exactly what I say you will be lying there with that carrion," cried Morgan, kicking the prostrate body savagely with his jewelled shoes. "What do you want me to do? For God's sake be quick, Your Excellency. Time is almost up. I hear the men move." "You are afraid, sir. There still want two minutes----" "Yes, yes, but----" "Go to the window yonder," cried the old man contemptuously--whatever he was he was not afraid--"and speak to them. Do you, Carib, stand behind, by the window, well concealed. If he hesitate, if he falter, kill him instantly." "Pistol or knife?" "The knife, it makes less noise," cried the buccaneer, chuckling with devilish glee. "Only one minute and a half now, eh, Mr. Bradley?" "They're coming, they're coming!" whispered Bradley, gasping for breath. "Oh, sir----" "We still have a minute," answered Morgan coolly. "Now, stop them." "But how?" "Tell them that you have captured me; that my wife is dead; that you and Lieutenant Hawxherst will spend the night here and fetch me down to Port Royal in the morning; that I have yielded myself a prisoner. Bid them stay where they are and drink to your health in bottles of rum, which shall be sent out to them, and then to go back to Port Royal and tell the new Governor. And see that your voice does not tremble, sir!" There was a sudden movement outside. "If they get in here," added Morgan quickly, "you are a dead man." Bradley, with the negro clutching his arm, ran to the window. With the point of his own sword pressed against the back of his neck he repeated the message which Morgan had given him, which was received by the little squadron with shouts of approbation. He turned from the window, pale and trembling. Moistening his lips he whispered: "I stopped them just in time." "Well for you that you did," said Morgan grimly. "Come hither! Face that wall! Now stand there! Move but a hair's-breadth, turn your head the thousandth part of a degree, and I run you through," he added, baring his sword. "Rum for the men without, Carib," he added, "and then tell me when they are gone." While the two were left alone in the room, Morgan amused himself by pricking the unfortunate officer with the point of the weapon, at the same time enforcing immobility and silence by the most ferocious threats of a speedy and cruel death. The men outside drank noisily and presently departed, and the half-breed came back. "Bind this fool," Morgan commanded briefly. "Then bid the slaves keep close in their cabins on pain of my displeasure--they know what it is. Then fetch the fastest horse in the stable to the front door. Get my riding-boots and cloak, and before you go hand me that little desk yonder. Be quick about it, too, for time presses, although I have more of it than these gentlemen would have allowed me." As the maroon, after carefully lashing the officer with a seaman's expertness, rushed out to busy himself in carrying out these commands, Morgan opened the desk which he had handed to him and took from it several rouleaux of gold and a little bag filled with the rarest of precious stones; then he made a careful examination of the body on the floor. "Not quite dead yet," he murmured, "but there is no use wasting shot or thrust upon him, he won't survive that blow. As for you, sir," looking at the paralyzed ensign, lying bound upon the floor, "you thought you could outwit the old buccaneer, eh? You shall see. I dealt with men when you were a babe in arms, and a babe in arms you are still. Ho! Ho!" He laughed long and loudly, though there was neither mirth nor merriment in his sinister tones. The blood of the poor listener froze in his veins at the sound of it. The brief preparations which Morgan had indicated as necessary for the journey were soon made. [Illustration: With the point of his own sword pressed against the back of his neck, he repeated the message which Morgan had given him.] He was always promptly obeyed by his own people; the slaves fled his presence when they could as if he had been a pestilence. At a sign from his taciturn body-servant at the open door that the horse was ready, he rose to his feet. "Shall I kill this one now?" asked the maroon. Morgan looked at the young man reflectively. The tongue of the ensign clave to the roof of his mouth; the sweat stood out on his forehead; he could not utter a word from fright. He was bound and trussed so tightly that he could not make a move, either. His eyes, however, spoke volumes. "Well," said Sir Henry deliberately, "it would be a pity to kill him--" he paused; "in a hurry," he added. "Dead men tell no tales." "Eh, well, we can take care of that. Just lay him near his friend, lock the doors when I am gone and set the place on fire. The people are all out of the house. See they remain away. 'Twill make a hot, glorious blaze. You know the landing opposite Port Royal?" The half-breed nodded. "Meet me there as quick as you can. Lose no time." "Aye, aye, sah," answered the Carib. "And Lady Morgan, sah?" "Let her burn with the other two. She is so saintly she may like the fire, for I am afraid there will be none where she has gone. Good-by, Master Bradley. You allowed me ten minutes. I take it that this house will burn slowly at first, so perhaps you may count upon--let us say--half an hour. I'm generous, you see. Harry Morgan's way! 'Tis a pity you can't live to take my message to Lord Carlingford. The next time he sends any one for me let him send men, not fools and--cowards." "You villain! You cursed, murdering villain!" gasped Bradley at last. "To our next meeting, Mr. Bradley, and may it be in a cooler place than you will be in half an hour!" CHAPTER II HOW MASTER BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD, THE ONE-EYED, AGREED TO GO WITH HIS OLD CAPTAIN Close under the towering walls of the old Spanish fort, now for a quarter of a century dominated by the English flag, as if seeking protection from its frowning battlements with their tiers of old-fashioned guns, stood the Blue Anchor tavern. It had been a famous resort for the bold spirits of the evil sort who had made Port Royal the base of their operations in many a desperate sea venture in piracy in the two decades that had just passed; but times had changed, even if men had not changed in them. [Illustration] The buccaneer had been banished from the Caribbean. Whereupon, with a circumspect prudence, he had extended his operations into the South Seas, where he was farther from civilization, consequently harder to get at, and, naturally, more difficult to control. Since the sack of Panama, twenty-five years before, his fortunes had been rapidly declining. One of the principal agents in promoting his downfall had been the most famous rover of them all. After robbing his companions of most of their legitimate proportion of the spoils of Panama, Sir Henry had bought his knighthood at the hands of the venal Charles, paying for it in treasure, into the origin of which, with his usual careless insouciance, his easy-going majesty had not inquired any too carefully. And the old pirate had settled down, if not to live cleanly at least to keep within the strict letter of the law. There was thereafter nothing he abhorred so thoroughly as buccaneering and the buccaneer--ostensibly, that is. Like many a reformed rake this gentle child of hell, when the opportunity came to him with the position of Vice-Governor, endeavored to show the sincerity of his reformation by his zealous persecution. He hanged without mercy such of his old companions in crime as fell into his clutches. They had already vowed vengeance upon him, these sometime brethren of the coast, for his betrayal of their confidence at Panama; they had further resented his honor of knighthood, his cloak of respectability, his assumption of gentility, and now that he hanged and punished right and left without mercy, their anger and animosity were raised to the point of fury, and many of them swore deeply with bitter oaths that if they ever caught him defenceless they would make him pay dearly in torture and torment for these various offences. He knew them well enough to realize their feelings toward him, and blind fate affording him the opportunity of the upper hand he made them rue more bitterly than ever their wild threats against him. He had, moreover, so conducted himself in his official position that everybody, good, bad, and indifferent, on the island hated him. Why he had not been assassinated long since was a mystery. But he was a dangerous man to attack. Absolutely fearless, prompt, decisive, resourceful, and with the powers and privileges of the office he held besides, he had so far escaped all the dangers and difficulties of his situation. Charles had constantly befriended him and had refused to give ear either to the reiterated pleas of the islanders for his removal, or to the emphatic representations of the Spanish court, which, in bitter recollection of what he had done--and no more cruel or more successful pirate had ever swept the Caribbean and ravaged the Spanish Main--were persistently urged upon his notice. But with the accession of James the situation was immediately altered. The new monarch had at once acceded to the demand of the Spanish Ambassador, presented anew at this opportune time, and a new Governor of Jamaica was despatched over the sea with orders to arrest Morgan and send him to England. Hawxherst, who, in common with all the officers of the insular army, hated the bloodstained villain whom fortune had placed over them, had solicited Lord Carlingford to allow him to execute the order, with what success we have seen. The news of the long-wished-for downfall of the tyrant had been spread abroad and formed the one topic of conversation in Port Royal and the vicinity that day. Now the work of the day was over and, as usual, the Blue Anchor tavern was crowded with men from the frigate and other shipping in the harbor, mingling with others from the purlieus of the town. Fumes of rum and spirits pervaded the tobacco-smoked barroom which served as the main parlor of the inn. It was yet early in the evening, but the crowd, inflamed with liquor, was already in uproarious mood. Over in the corner a young Englishman was singing in a rich, deep voice a new song by a famous poet of London town: "Let us sing and be merry, dance, joke and rejoice, With claret and sherry, theorbo and voice! The changeable world to our joy is unjust, All treasure's uncertain, Then down with your dust; In frolics dispose your pounds, shillings and pence, For we shall be nothing a hundred years hence. We'll sport and be free, with Frank, Betty and Dolly, Have lobsters and oysters to cure melancholy; Fish dinners will make a man spring like a flea, Dame Venus, love's lady, Was born of the sea; With her and with Bacchus we'll tickle the sense. For we shall be past it a hundred years hence." It was a popular song, evidently, for the whole assembly joined in the chorus-- "In frolics dispose your pounds, shillings and pence, For we shall be nothing a hundred years hence." They roared it out in the deep bass voices of the sea, marking the time by hammering in unison upon the oaken tables with their pewter mugs and flagons. The sentiment seemed to suit the company, if the zest with which they sang be any criterion. Care was taken to insure a sufficient pause, too, after the chorus between each of the verses, to permit the drinking, after all the essential part of the evening's entertainment, to be performed without hindrance. There was one man, however, from the post of honor which he occupied at the head of the table evidently held in high consideration among the habitués of the inn, who did not join in the singing. He was a little man, who made up for his shortness of stature by breadth of shoulder and length of arm. There was an ugly black patch over his left eye; no one had ever seen him without that patch since the day of the assault on the fort at Chagres; an Indian arrow had pierced his eye on that eventful day. Men told how he had gone to the surgeon requesting him to pull it out, and when the young doctor, who had been but a short time with the buccaneers, shrank from jerking the barb out in view of the awful pain which would attend his action, had hesitated, reluctant, the wounded man had deliberately torn out the arrow, and with oaths and curses for the other's cowardice had bound up the wound himself with strips torn from his shirt and resumed the fighting. His courage there, and before and after, although he was an illiterate person and could neither read nor write, had caused him to be appointed boatswain of the ship that had carried Morgan's flag, and he had followed his leader for many years with a blind devotion that risked all and stuck at nothing to be of service to him. It had been many years since Master Benjamin Hornigold, coming down from bleak New England because he found his natural bent of mind out of harmony with the habits and customs of his Puritan ancestors, had drifted into buccaneering under the flag of his chief. He was an old man now, but those who felt the force of his mighty arms were convinced that age had not withered him to any appreciable degree. Aside from Morgan, Hornigold had loved but one human creature, his younger brother, a man of somewhat different stamp, who had been graduated from Harvard College but, impelled by some wild strain in his blood and by the example of his brother, had joined the buccaneers. There were many men of gentle blood who were well acquainted with the polite learning of the day among these sea rovers from time to time, and it is related that on that same Panama excursion when "from the silent peak in Darien" they beheld for the first time after their tremendous march the glittering expanse of the South Seas, with white Panama in its green trees before them, the old cry of the famous Ten Thousand, "Thalatta! Thalatta! The sea! The sea!" had burst from many lips. All his learning and refinement of manner had not prevented young Ebenezer Hornigold from being as bad at heart as his brother, which is saying a great deal, and because he was younger, more reckless, less prudent, than he of riper years, he had incautiously put himself in the power of Morgan and had been hanged with short shrift. Benjamin, standing upon the outskirts of the crowd jesting and roaring around the foot of the gibbet, with a grief and rage in his heart at his impotency, presently found himself hating his old captain with a fierceness proportioned to his devotion in the past. For he had appealed for mercy personally to Morgan by the memory of his former services and had been sternly repulsed and coldly dismissed with a warning that he should look to his own future conduct lest, following in the course of his brother, he should find himself with his neck in the noose. Morgan, colossal in his conceit and careless in his courage, thought not to inquire, or, if he gave the subject any consideration at all, dismissed it from his mind as of little moment, as to what was the subsequent state of Hornigold's feelings. Hornigold could have killed Morgan on numberless occasions, but a consuming desire for a more adequate revenge than mere death had taken hold of him, and he deferred action until he could contrive some means by which to strike him in a way that he conceived would glut his obsession of inexpiable hatred. Hornigold had reformed, outwardly that is, and was now engaged in the useful and innocent business of piloting ships into the harbor, also steering their crews, after the anchors were down, into the Blue Anchor tavern, in which place his voice and will were supreme. He had heard, for Lord Carlingford had made no secret of his orders, that his old master was to be arrested and sent back to England. The news which would have brought joy to a lesser villain, in that it meant punishment, filled him with dismay, for such was the peculiarity of his hatred that he wanted the punishment to come directly from him--through his agency, that is. He desired it to be of such character that it should be neither speedy nor easy, and he lusted most of all that Morgan should know in his last hours--which Hornigold prayed Satan might be long ones--to whom he was indebted for it all. And, strange as it may seem, there was still a certain loyalty of a distorted, perverted kind, in the man's breast. No matter what Morgan had done, no one else should punish him but himself. He would even have fought for his sometime chief, were it necessary, against the King or his law, if need be. He was therefore very much disturbed over what he heard. Had it been possible he would have warned Morgan immediately of his purposed arrest, but he had been detained on the frigate by necessary duties from which he could find no means of escape until too late. He had, however, a high sense of Sir Henry's courage and address. He hoped and believed that he would not be taken by such men as Hawxherst and Bradley; but if he were, Hornigold made up his mind to rescue him. There was a little islet in the Caribbean just below Hispaniola, in whose wooded interior still lurked some of the old-time buccaneers, proscribed men, who, from time to time, did pirating in a small way on their own account; just enough to keep their hands in. If the worst came, Hornigold, who with his little pinnace had kept in touch with them secretly, could assemble them for the rescue of their old captain. Then the former Governor, in his power and in their possession, could be disposed of at their leisure and pleasure. All these things had busied the man during the evening, and he sat even now in the midst of the revelry about him, plunged in profound thought. Unobserved himself, he had taken account of every man who was present. He knew all the habitués of the port, and enjoyed a wide acquaintance among the seamen whose vessels frequented the harbor. He decided there were then in that room perhaps twenty men upon whom he could depend, proper inducement being offered, for almost any sort of service. Among these were five or six superior spirits whom he knew to be tried and true. There was young Teach, the singer of the evening, a drunken, dissolute vagabond, who had been discharged from his last ship for insubordination and a quarrelsome attack upon one of his officers, for which he had narrowly escaped hanging as a mutineer. The man was as bold as a lion, though; he could be trusted. There, too, was Rock Braziliano, a Portuguese half-breed, and hobnobbing with him was Raveneau de Lussan, a Frenchman--prime seamen and bold fellows both. Further down the table, the huge Dutchman, Velsers, was nodding stupidly over his rum. These men and a few others were veterans like Hornigold himself. They were the best of the lot, but for the most part the assemblage was made up of the sweepings of the town, men who had the willingness to do anything no matter how nefarious it might be, their only deterrent being lack of courage. Hornigold's single eye swept over them with a fierce gleam of contempt, yet these were they with whom he must work in case of necessity. One or two others in whom he reposed confidence, men who composed the crew of his own pinnace, he had sent off early in the evening to Spanish Town to gather what news they could. One of them came in and reported that the squadron of horse which had gone up with the officers to bring back Morgan had come back without him and without the officers. The spy's insignificance prevented him from learning why this was, but hope instantly sprang up in Hornigold's breast upon receipt of this news. Knowing Morgan as he did, he was convinced that he had found some means to dispose of the two officers and send away the cavalry. He was not unprepared, therefore, when he saw the tall form of the maroon appearing in the doorway through the smoke. No one else noticed the silent Carib's entry, and he stood motionless until Hornigold's eye fastened upon him. Then by an imperceptible move of his head he indicated a desire to speak with him without the room. The one-eyed nodded slightly in token that he understood, and the maroon vanished as silently as he had come. Waiting a few moments, Hornigold rose from his seat and began threading his way through the boisterous crowd toward the door. Thrusting aside detaining hands and answering rude queries with an old sailor's ready banter, bidding them on no account to cease the festivities because of his departure, and in fact ordering a new draught of rum for all hands, he succeeded in breaking away under cover of the cheers which greeted this announcement. It was pitch dark outside and he stopped a moment, hesitating as to what he should do. He had no doubt but that the maroon had a message for him from his master. But a second had elapsed when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. His hand went instantly to the seaman's hanger at his side and he faced about promptly. A ready man was Master Hornigold. "It's I, bo's'n," whispered a familiar voice. "You, Black Dog? Where's your master?" "Yonder." "Let me see him." A tall, slender figure muffled in a heavy riding-coat sat in the stern sheets of a small boat in the deepest shadow of one of the silent and deserted piers. "Captain Morgan?" whispered Hornigold softly, as followed by the maroon he descended the landing stairs leading toward the boat. "'Tis you, Master Hornigold," answered the man, with an accent of relief in his voice, thrusting the pistol back into his belt as he spoke. He, too, was a ready man with his weapons and one not to be caught napping in any emergency. "Me it is, sir," answered the boatswain, "and ready to serve my old captain." "You heard the news?" "I heard it on the frigate this afternoon." "Why did you not send me warning?" "I had no chance. I'd 'a' done it, sir, if I could have fetched away." "Well, all's one. I've laid those two landlubbers by the heels. Eh, Carib?" "Where are they, sir?" "I might make a guess, for I left them bound and the house blazing." "'Tis like old times!" "Ay! I've not forgot the old tricks." "No, sir. And what's to do now?" "Why, the old game once more." "What? You don't mean----" "I do. What else is there left for me? Scuttle me, if I don't take it out of the Dons! It's their doing. They've had a rest for nigh twenty years. We'll let it slip out quietly among the islands that Harry Morgan's afloat once more and there's pickings to be had on the Spanish Main--wine and women and pieces of eight. Art with me?" "Ay, of course. But we lack a ship." "There's one yonder, man," cried Morgan, pointing up the harbor, where the lights of the _Mary Rose_ twinkled in the blackness. "To be sure the ship is there, but----" "But what?" "We've no force. The old men are gone." "I am here," answered Morgan, "and you and Black Dog. And there are a few others left. Teach is new, but will serve; I heard his bull voice roaring out from the tavern. And de Lussan and Velsers, and the rest. I've kept sight of ye. Curse it all, I let you live when I might have hanged you." "You did, captain, you did. You didn't hang everybody--but you didn't spare, either." It would have been better for the captain if it had been lighter and he could have seen the sudden and sharp set of Master Hornigold's jaws, which, coupled with the fierceness which flamed into his one eye as he hissed out that last sentence, might have warned him that it would be safer to thrust his head into the lion's mouth than altogether to trust himself to his whilom follower. But this escaped him in the darkness. "Listen," he said quickly. "This is my plan. In the morning when Hawxherst and Bradley do not appear, the new Governor will send more men. They will find the house burned down. No one saw us come hither. There will be in the ruins the remains of three bodies." "Three?" "Yes. My Lady Morgan's." "Did you kill her?" "I didn't have to. They'll think that one of them is mine. No hue or cry will be raised and no search made for me. Do you arrange that the crew of the _Mary Rose_ be given liberty for the evening yonder at the Blue Anchor. They've not been ashore yet, I take it?" "No, but they will go to-morrow." "That's well. Meanwhile gather together the bold fellows who have stomach for a cruise and are willing to put their heads through the halter provided there are pieces of eight on the other side, and then we'll take the frigate to-morrow night and away for the Spanish Main. That will give us a start. We'll pick up what we can along the coast first, then scuttle the ship, cross the Isthmus, seize another and have the whole South Seas before us--Peru, Manila, wherever we will." "The King has a long arm." "Yes, and other kings have had long arms too, I take it, but they have not caught Harry Morgan, nor ever shall. Come, man, wilt go with me?" "Never fear," answered Hornigold promptly. "I've been itching for a chance to cut somebody's throat." He did not say it was Morgan's throat, but the truth and sincerity in his voice carried conviction to the listening captain. "Thou bloody butcher!" he laughed grimly. "There will be plenty of it anon." "Where will you lay hid," asked the boatswain, "until to-morrow night?" "I have thought of that," said Morgan promptly. "I think the best place will be the cabin of your pinnace. I'll just get aboard, Black Dog here and I, and put to sea. To-morrow night at this hour we'll come back here again and you will find us here at the wharf." "A good plan, Master Morgan," cried Hornigold, forgetting the title as the scheme unfolded itself to him. "What's o'clock, I wonder?" As he spoke the sound of a bell tapped softly came floating over the quiet water from the _Mary Rose_. "Four bells," answered Morgan listening; "at ten of the clock, then, I shall be here." "Leave the rest to me, sir," answered Hornigold. "I shall. That will be your boat yonder?" "Ay. Just beyond the point." "Is anybody aboard of her?" "No one." "Is there rum and water enough for one day?" "Plenty. In the locker in the cuddy." "Good! Come, Carib. Until to-morrow night, then!" "Ay, ay, sir," said Hornigold, leaning over the pier and watching the boat fade into a black blur on the water as it drew away toward the pinnace. "He's mine, by heaven, he's mine!" he whispered under his breath as he turned and walked slowly up to the house. Yet Master Hornigold meant to keep faith with his old captain. He was sick and tired of assumed respectability, of honest piloting of ships to the harbor, of drinking with worthy merchantmen or the King's sailors. The itch for the old buccaneering game was hard upon him. To hear the fire crackle and roar through a doomed ship, to lord it over shiploads of terrified men and screaming women, to be sated with carnage and drunk with liquor, to dress in satins and velvets and laces, to let the broad pieces of eight run through his grimy fingers, to throw off restraint and be a free sailor, a gentleman rover, to return to the habits of his earlier days and revel in crime and sin--it was for all this that his soul lusted again. He would betray Morgan, yet a flash of his old admiration for the man came into his mind as he licked his lips like a wolf and thought of the days of rapine. There never was such a leader. He had indeed been the terror of the seas. Under no one else would there be such prospects for successful piracy. Yes, he would do all for him faithfully, up to the point of revenge. Morgan's plan was simple and practicable. De Lussan, Teach, Velsers and the rest would fall in with it gladly. There would be enough rakehelly, degraded specimens of humanity, hungry and thirsty, lustful and covetous, in Port Royal--which was the wickedest and most flourishing city on the American hemisphere at the time--to accompany them and insure success, provided only there would be reward in women and liquor and treasure. He would do it. They would all go a-cruising once more, and then--they would see. He stayed a long time on the wharf, looking out over the water, arranging the details of the scheme outlined by Morgan so brilliantly, and it was late when he returned to the parlor of the Blue Anchor Inn. Half the company were drunk on the floor under the tables. The rest were singing, or shouting, or cursing, in accordance with their several moods. Above the confusion Hornigold could hear Teach's giant voice still roaring out his reckless refrain; bitter commentary on their indifference it was, too-- "Though life now is pleasant and sweet to the sense, We'll be damnably moldy a hundred years hence." "Ay," thought the old buccaneer, pausing in the entrance, for the appositeness of the verses impressed even his unreflective soul, "it will be all the same in a hundred years, but we'll have one more good cruise before we are piped down for the long watch in." He chuckled softly and hideously to himself at the fatalistic idea. By his orders, enforced by the vigorous use of seamen's colts, the inn servants at once cleared the room of the vainly protesting revellers. Those whose appearance indicated a degree of respectability which promised payment for their accommodation, were put to bed; the common sort were bundled unceremoniously out on the strand before the door and left to sober up as best they might in the soft tropic night. Teach, Raveneau, and the Brazilian were detained for conference with the boatswain. To these worthies, therefore, Hornigold unfolded Morgan's plan, which they embraced with alacrity, promising each to do his share. Velsers was too stupidly drunk to be told anything, but they knew they could count upon him without fail. CHAPTER III IN WHICH SIR HENRY MORGAN FINDS HIMSELF AT THE HEAD OF A CREW ONCE MORE The next morning, after waiting a reasonable time for a message from the two soldiers at Spanish Town, Lord Carlingford, the new Governor, who had taken up his residence temporarily at Port Royal, summoned his attendants, and himself repaired to the seat of Government to ascertain why no further report had been received from his officers. Great was his astonishment when he found that the residence of the Vice-Governor had been destroyed by fire during the night. The frightened slaves could tell nothing. Morgan and Carib had taken care that no one had marked their departure. Consequently when the search of the ruins revealed the remains of three bodies, so badly charred as to be unrecognizable, it was naturally inferred at first that they were those of the buccaneer and the two unfortunate officers. It was known among the people of the place, however, that Lady Morgan had been seriously ill, so ill that she could not have been removed, and there were some who suspected that one of the bodies was hers and that the arch-fiend himself had by some means disposed of the officers and escaped. Therefore a hue and cry was raised for him and a strict search instituted by order of the Governor, who, after setting affairs in motion, returned to Port Royal. Troops were accordingly ordered out, and even details of surly seamen, growling at being deprived of their accustomed shore liberty, were detailed from the frigate, which happened to be the only war vessel in commission in the harbor. Hornigold, Raveneau, and one or two of the others known to be former companions of the buccaneer, were closely interrogated, but they stoutly declared they did not know his whereabouts and had seen nothing of him. Later in the afternoon it was observed that Hornigold's pinnace was not in the harbor. Indeed, with cunning adroitness that master mariner himself called attention to the fact, cursing the while his old commander for his alleged theft of the boat, and declaring his willingness to join in the search for him. It was known to the authorities that the execution of the boatswain's brother by Morgan had shattered the old intimacy which subsisted between them; consequently his protestations were given credence and suspicion of collusion was diverted from him. Lord Carlingford finally determined to send the _Mary Rose_ to sea in an endeavor to overhaul the pinnace, in the hope that the former Vice-Governor might be found on her, although the chances of success were but faint. The frigate, however, was not provisioned or watered for a cruise, after her long voyage from England. There had been considerable scurvy and other sickness on the ship and she was in no condition to weigh anchor immediately; she would have to be re-supplied and the sick men in her crew replaced by drafts from the shore. Besides, in accordance with the invariable custom, the great majority of the men had been given shore leave for that afternoon and evening, and those few who were not on duty were carousing at the Blue Anchor Inn and similar taverns and would be utterly unable to work the ship, should they be called upon to do so, without being given a chance to sober up. This would take time, and Lord Carlingford upon the representations of his sea officers decided to wait until the morrow before commencing work. One secret of Morgan's success was the promptness with which he struck. Nobler and better men could have learned a lesson from this old buccaneer, notably the Governor. As he could do so, not only personally but through his able lieutenants, Hornigold busied himself during the day and the preceding night in enlisting as vicious a gang of depraved ruffians as could be gathered together in what was perhaps the wickedest city in the world. It had been decided after conference between the leaders that there was no place within the confines of Port Royal itself where so many men could meet without exciting suspicion. He had accordingly appointed a rendezvous for the night across the narrow entrance to the harbor, opposite the fort, under the trees which overshadowed the strand, some distance back from high-water mark. Singly or in groups of two or three, the men had gone across in boats after sunset, successfully eluding observation, for the night was moonless and very dark. There was no room, indeed, for suspicion on the part of the authorities, save in the bare fact of the possible escape of Morgan; but it had been twenty years since that worthy had gone buccaneering, and, except in the minds of his former companions and participants, much of the character of his exploits had passed out of mind. No special watch was kept, therefore, in fort or town or on the ship. Morgan was gone certainly, but nothing was feared from a single proscribed man. There was rum in plenty under the trees on the point, but care was taken by Rock Braziliano, Raveneau, and the others, even including Velsers, that no one should drink enough to lose entire control of his faculties or to become obstreperous. Just enough was given to make the timid bold, and the hardy reckless. They knew the value of, and on occasion could practise, abstinence, those old buccaneers, and they were determined to keep their men well in hand. No fires were lighted, no smoking permitted. Strict silence was enjoined and enforced. It was perhaps ten o'clock before all were assembled. When morning had cleared their brains of the rum they had taken, there had been ferocious opposition on the part of the older men. Not that they objected to buccaneering. They were eager for the chance once more, but the memory of Morgan's betrayals of his old comrades rankled deep. There were many beside Hornigold who had promised themselves the luxury of vengeance upon their old commander. There were none, however, who had so dwelt upon it as the boatswain, nor were there any whose animosity and determination compared to his fierce hatred. He was therefore able, at last, to persuade them into a surly willingness to accept Morgan as their captain in this new enterprise. Indeed, without him they could do nothing, for there was no one who possessed the ability or experience to lead them save he. The best men of the old stamp were now in the South Seas and far away; they had been driven from the Caribbean. It was not difficult for Hornigold to show them that it must be Morgan or no one. Their feelings of animosity were, perforce, sunk beneath the surface, although they smouldered still within their breasts. They would go with him, they said. But let him look to himself, they swore threateningly. If he betrayed them again, there were men among them who would kill him as remorselessly as they would stamp on a centipede. If he behaved himself and the expedition on which he was to lead them proved successful, they might forgive him--all but old Hornigold. Truth to tell, there was no one among them who felt himself so wronged or so badly treated as the one-eyed envenomed sailor. The bulk of the party, which numbered perhaps one hundred men, were simply plain, ordinary thieves, cut-throats, broken-down seamen, land sharks and rascals. Not much was to be expected of them. They were not of the stuff of which the old-time buccaneers had been made, but they were the best to be obtained at that time in Port Royal. Even they would not have been so easily assembled had they realized quite what was expected of them. They knew, of course, that they were committing themselves to some nefarious undertaking, but to each recruit had been vouchsafed only enough information to get him to come to the rendezvous--no more. They were a careless, drunken, dissolute lot. By Hornigold's orders they were told off in five parties of about twenty each, commanded respectively by himself, Velsers, Raveneau, the Brazilian, and the last by Teach, who, though the youngest of the leaders, had a character for daring wickedness that would stop at nothing. With much difficulty the boatswain had succeeded in obtaining five boats, each capable of carrying one band. Every one brought his own arms, and in general these men did not lack a sufficiency of weapons. Those who were deficient, however, were supplied from a scanty stock which the leaders had managed to procure. All was in readiness, when one of the men who had been stationed on the extreme edge of the beach toward the channel reported the approach of a small boat looking like the pinnace. The wind, fortunately for the enterprise, happened to be blowing fresh out of the harbor and it was necessary for the pinnace to beat up toward the entrance. She showed no lights, but, as she tacked in close to the shore, between the watcher and the lights of the town, he observed her. The boat was handled with consummate skill; she dropped anchor and hauled down her sails noiselessly just abreast the pier which had been appointed the rendezvous by the two men on the night before. As soon as Hornigold learned of the approach he took a small boat, leaving Velsers in command of the band on shore, and repaired with the other leaders to the wharf on the other side. As the boat approached the wharf it was hailed in a sharp whisper. "Who comes?" cried the voice on shore. "Hornigold!" answered the boatswain in a low tone, as the boat swept alongside. "So, 'tis you, is it?" cried Morgan, attended by the maroon as usual, again putting his pistol back into his belt. "Seeing so many of you in the skiff, I feared a trap until you gave the word." "I've brought along Raveneau, the Brazilian, and young Teach," said the boatswain. "Welcome, my hearties, all!" said the Vice-Governor softly. "We're off to the Spanish Main with a good ship, plenty of liquor beneath the hatches, brave hearts to run her. There will be plenty of pickings meet for any man. Are you with me?" "Ay, ay, sir!" "We are," answered one and another. The place where they stood was lonely and deserted at that time of night, but Hornigold suggested that they immediately repair to the other side, there to perfect their further plans. Indeed, they had no plans as yet. There was not head enough among them to concoct the details of the scheme, although no better instruments for an expedition than the chief and those assembled under him could be gathered together. They had waited for Morgan. "You speak well," answered the captain. "Are all preparations made?" "All we could make without you, captain," replied Hornigold as the party re-entered the boat. "How many men have you gathered?" "About five score." "Boats?" "Five." "Will they carry all?" "With a little crowding." "Who leads each boat?" "I, one, sir, with your permission; Raveneau here, another; the Brazilian, the third; young Teach, a fourth, and Velsers----" "Where is he?" "With the rest of the men--the fifth." "Good! Are they all armed?" "Every man has a sword and a pistol at least." "What of the men?" "A poor lot," answered Teach, recklessly. "A dastardly crew." "Will they fight, think ye?" "Curse me, they'll have to fight; we'll make them!" said Hornigold. "Do they know what's up?" "Not exactly," answered Raveneau, the Frenchman, a man of good birth and gentle manners, but as cruel and ruthless a villain as any that ever cut a throat or scuttled a ship. "Have no fear, captain," he continued smoothly. "Once we start them, they will have to fight." "Did you ever know me to show fear, de Lussan?" cried the captain bending forward and staring at the Frenchman, his eyes glittering in the darkness like those of a wildcat. "No, captain." "No, nor did any other man," answered Morgan, and from where he sat Hornigold marked the little dialogue and swore in his heart that this man who boasted so should beg for his life at his hand, with all the beseeching pity of the veriest craven, before he finished with him. But for the present he said nothing. After a short pause, Morgan resumed: "Have they suspected my escape?" "They have," answered the boatswain. "They found the remains of the three bodies in the burned house this morning. At first they thought one of them was yours, but they decided after a while that one was a woman, and they guessed that you had made away with the officers and escaped. I told them you had stolen my pinnace and got away." "You did, eh?" "Yes." "And he swore and cursed you roundly, captain," interposed the Brazilian chuckling maliciously. "Aye, sir, he swore if he got hands on you he would give you up." Morgan turned this time to Hornigold. He was by no means sure of his position. He knew the enmity of these men, and he did not know how far their cupidity or their desire to take up the old life once more under such fortunate auspices as would be afforded under his command would restrain them. "Master Ben Hornigold, said ye that?" he queried. "Would ye betray me?" His hand stole to his waist and his fingers closed around his pistol grip. "No fear, captain," answered that worthy composedly, sustaining the captain's searching gaze. A braver man never stepped a deck than he. "I did it to divert their attention. You see, they fancied at first that we old sea-dogs might have something to do with your escape, but I undeceived them. They reckoned that you had been hard on us and that we might be hard on ye----" "No more of this, gentlemen, the past is gone. We begin again," cried Morgan fiercely. "And mark me, the man who betrays Harry Morgan will not live many minutes to boast of it! I'd kill him if he sat on the steps of a throne. Easy there!" he called out to the oarsmen, assuming the command as by right, while the boat's keel grated on the shingle. "All out now and lead the way. Nay, gentlemen, you shall all precede me. Carib, here, will bring up the rear. And it may be well for you to keep your weapons in your belts." Much impressed, the little party disembarked and walked rapidly toward the place of assemblage, under the trees. Morgan and the maroon came last, each of them with a bared sword and cocked pistol. "Lads," said Hornigold, as they approached the men, "here's your captain, Sir Henry Morgan." "The Governor!" cried one and another, in surprise and alarm. The man had been a terror to evildoers too poor to bribe. "Nay, men, Governor no more," Morgan answered promptly. "A free sailor who takes the sea against the Spanish Dons. We'll go buccaneering as in the old days. These men here," pointing to the group of officers, "can tell you what it means. You have heard tales of the jolly roving life of the brethren-of-the-coast. We'll do a little picking in the Caribbean, then over the Isthmus, and then down into the South Seas. There's wine and women and treasure to be had for the taking. The Spaniards are cowards. Let them hear that Harry Morgan is once more on the sea under the Jolly Roger and they will tremble from Darien down to the Straits of Magellan. It will be fair play and the old shares. Who's with me?" "I!" "I!" "I!" broke from the bolder spirits of the crowd, and the rest, catching the contagion, finally joined in the acclaim. "Easy," said the captain, "lest we be heard. Hornigold, is there liquor?" "Plenty, sir." "Let each man have a noble draught, then to the boats." "But, captain," spoke up Sawkins, one of the boldest recruits, who was not in the secret, "be ye goin' buccaneerin' in boats? Whar's the ship?" "I have a ship in the harbor," cried Morgan, "well found and provided." "Ay, but what ship?" "Confusion, sir!" shouted Morgan. "Begin ye by questioning me? Into the boat with your comrades! Velsers, de Lussan, Rock see that the men get into the boats as soon as they have their dram. And hark ye, gentlemen, a word with ye!" calling them apart while the rest were being served. "Put the boldest men in the stern sheets with yourselves, the rest at the oars, and do you have your weapons ready. The _Mary Rose_ lies just within the bar. You, Velsers and Rock, gain the fo'c'sl from larboard and starboard. You, Teach and Raveneau, board at the different gangways. Hornigold, I'll go in your boat and we'll attend to the cabin. Let all be done without noise. No pistols, use the blade. Take no prisoners and waste no time. If we gain the deck without difficulty, and I think we can, clap to the hatch covers and we'll cut cable and get under way at once." The men had been embarking in the boats rather reluctantly as he spoke, but presently all was ready. Finally Hornigold and then Morgan with the maroon stepped into the last boat, first making sure there were no stragglers left behind, and Morgan gave the command: "Shove off!" Sawkins, the bold spirit who had spoken before, presumed, in spite of the commander's threat, to open his mouth again as the boats slowly left the beach, rowing through the passage and up the harbor against the ebb just beginning; he pulled the stroke oar in Hornigold's boat. "Before I go further," he cried, "I want to know what ship we're goin' aboard of." "Ay!" came in a subdued roar from the men behind him, who only needed a leader to back out of the enterprise, which, as it threatened to involve fighting, began to seem not quite so much to their taste. "What ship?" "The frigate," answered Hornigold shortly. "What! The _Mary Rose_! The King's ship!" cried the men, ceasing to row. In an instant Morgan's pistol was out. His motion was followed by Hornigold and the maroon. "Row, you dogs!" he cried fiercely. The stroke oarsman hesitated, although the others tried to pick up the stroke. "I give you one minute, then I blow out your brains, pull out the plug in this boat, and we'll all go to hell together," said Morgan truculently to the recalcitrant men. "Row, for your life's sake!" cried the man behind Sawkins, hitting him in the back with the haft of the oar. "It's the King's ship!" "What do we care for the King?" said Morgan. "He is the law, and none of us love the law. Two-thirds of her crew are drunk, t'other third are ashore or sick. They are unprepared, asleep. There'll be naught but the anchor watch. One sharp blow, and we have the frigate--then away. What fear ye, lads?" By such words as these, but more by the threatening appearance of the weapons pointed from the stern sheets, Morgan inspirited his men; and by similar language and threats, the men in the other boats did the same. After rowing a short distance the flotilla separated. Those approaching from the farther side of the ship necessarily made a wide détour, for which the others waited, so they would all arrive simultaneously. After a suitable time the order was passed softly to give way again. In perfect silence, broken only by the "cheep" of the oars in the locks, the five boats swept down on the doomed frigate. CHAPTER IV WHICH TELLS HOW THE "MARY ROSE" FRIGATE CHANGED MASTERS AND FLAGS [Illustration] The _Mary Rose_ was a ship with a history. The battle roster of the English navy had borne many of her name. In each instance she had been found in the thickest of the fighting. The present vessel was an old ship, having been built some thirty years before, but she was still stanch and of a model which combined strength with speed. The most conspicuous expedition she had participated in had been a desperate defence of a convoy in the Mediterranean against seven Sallee rovers, in which, after a hard engagement lasting four hours, the _Mary Rose_ triumphed decisively without losing a single sail of her convoy. A rude song was made about the action, and the two lines of the ballad, summing up the results, were painted around the wheel: "Two we burnt, and two we sank, and two did run away, And one we carried to Leghorn Roads, to show we'd won the day." The commander of the ship on this memorable and heroic occasion had been knighted on his return to England, and on the accession of James had been sent to Jamaica with Lord Carlingford as Vice-Governor, to take command of the naval station and supersede Morgan. Admiral Sir John Kempthorne was an elderly man at this time, but his spirit was the same that had enabled him to withstand so successfully the overwhelming onslaught of the Algerine pirate ships. The English navy, however, was then in a state of painful decay. The famous Test Act, which excluded James from the naval service while he was Duke of York, because he was a Roman Catholic, had deprived the navy of its most influential and able friend. The greedy rapacity with which Charles II. had devoted the money assigned by the Commons for the support of the fleet to his own lustful and extravagant purposes, the favoritism and venality which he allowed in the administration of the Admiralty, and the neglect with which he viewed the representations of Pepys and others as to the condition of his fleets, had reduced the navy of England, which had won such immortal glory under Blake, to the very lowest depth it ever reached. The ships were in bad repair and commanded by landsmen who shirked going to sea; they were ill-found, the wages of the seamen not paid--in short, they presented pictures of demoralization as painful as they were unusual. Kempthorne, having been a tried and a successful naval commander in his younger days, had striven, with some success so far as his own ship was concerned, to stem the prevailing tide of ruin, and the _Mary Rose_ was perhaps one of the best frigates in the service, which, however, was not saying a great deal. He could not, of course, better the character of the crew which had been provided for him, nor could he entirely re-supply the ship, or make good her faulty and deficient equipment, but he did the best he could. Under ordinary circumstances he could have given a good account of himself if engaged with even the perfectly appointed ships of the Dutch Republic, or of the Grand Monarch himself. Indeed, in spite of the horrible degeneracy, the prestige of victory was still, as it has ever been, with England. King James, a successful, even brilliant naval commander in his youth, had decided to rehabilitate the navy with a view to putting it on its old footing, and with that object in view he had sent one of his best admirals across the sea to the important island of Jamaica, then the headquarters of the West India Squadron. Kempthorne had welcomed the duty, and had determined that so far as the station at Port Royal was concerned he would make it the model one of the colonies, of the kingdom itself for that matter, provided he were sustained by the King as had been promised. Lord Carlingford, with the zeal of a new appointee, had promised his coöperation. The admiral was seated in the cabin of the frigate that night cogitating upon his plans, when his thoughts were interrupted by the rattle of oars, indicating the arrival of a boat. The sound of the approaching boat came faintly through the open stern windows of the cabin under the high poop-deck. The ship was more or less deserted. The sick men had been put ashore; most of the crew, and the officers as well, had followed them. They would not be back until the morrow, when Sir John had orders to get away in pursuit of Hornigold's pinnace. With the captain in the cabin, however, was the old master of the ship, a man who had been promoted to that rank after the famous fight with the Algerines because of his gallantry in that action. Kempthorne was consulting with him about the necessary arrangements before sailing the next day. As the admiral heard the noise made by the oars in the oarlocks he raised his voice, and calling a sentry, for there was half a platoon of soldiers on board who had not yet been allowed liberty (the beginnings of the Royal Marine of England, by the way), he bade him ascertain if the approaching boat was that containing the Governor. It was still early evening, and Lord Carlingford had announced his intention of sleeping in the ship, for the weather was intensely warm and he thought it might be cooler in the harbor than in the crowded low-lying town of Port Royal. At the same time the admiral arose, buckled on his sword, and made ready to go on deck to meet Lord Carlingford, should it prove to be his expected visitor. Pausing a moment to say a final word to the master, he was conscious of something striking the ship. Before he could formulate the idea that a boat must have been hit in the bends, there were several similar shocks. The old master, who happened to be unarmed, stepped forward. "That will be a boat, sir," he said quickly, "striking against the side of the ship. There's another, and another!" His voice indicated surprise and some apprehension. What could it be? "Let us go on deck at once," said Kempthorne, stepping forward. As he did so the silence was broken by a wild, terrified cry. A moment after, the sentry on the quarter-deck outside the entrance to the poop cabin fired his piece. The shot was followed by the sound of a fierce blow, and then a heavy fall. A sharp, imperious voice cried quickly: "The ship is ours! Waste no time! Overboard with him! Clap to the hatch covers!" The necessity for concealment outside was apparently at an end. The heavy covers were flung down upon the hatches and secured. The ship was filled with a confused babel of many voices and trampling feet. At the sound of the shot, the admiral and the master sprang to the door, but before they could pass the entrance it was flung violently open, and a man richly dressed after the fashion of Jamaica, followed by a tall, savage-looking half-breed, a compound of negro and Indian, clad in a gorgeous livery, each with pistol and sword, sprang into the room and forced the two men back. As soon as he could recover himself Kempthorne whipped out his sword. He found himself covered, however, as did the master, with a pistol. "Throw down your sword!" cried Morgan fiercely, "and yield yourselves without quarter." "Who are you that ask?" "Sir Henry Morgan." "You bloody villain!" cried Kempthorne. "Dare you attempt to take the King's ship?" "That for the King!" answered Morgan, waving his sword. "Who are you?" "Sir John Kempthorne, Admiral and Vice-Governor of Jamaica." "You would fain fill my station, would you, sir?" "I would not descend to the station of a pirate, a robber, a murderer, a----" "S'death, silence!" roared Morgan furiously. "The ship is ours! I've a message for the King. Wilt carry it?" "I would not insult my royal master by carrying a message from such as you." "You will have it!" shouted Morgan, white with rage, lunging forward at him. Their blades crossed in an instant, and at the same moment the old master, reckless of what happened, flung himself between the two. There was a roar from Carib's pistol, and the old man fell. As Kempthorne relaxed his guard slightly in the confusion Morgan ran him through. The admiral fell so suddenly that he jerked the blade, buried in his breast, out of the buccaneer's hand. "God--" he gasped, as he lay upon the body of the old sailor, "God--save the--King." "Would'st sit in my place, eh?" cried Morgan, laughing truculently as he turned on his heel and left the cabin. Beneath the hatches, the platoon of soldiers and the men there imprisoned were yelling and making a tremendous racket. They were helpless, however, and could do nothing. The men of the boarding parties were clustered in groups forward and aft and around the closed passageways into the interior of the ship, waiting for the next order. The noise and confusion which had followed the sentry's bold shot had awakened the attention of the people of the town. Lights twinkled on the ramparts of the fort, and the long roll of a drum could be heard coming faintly up the harbor against the wind. Lord Carlingford had just entered his boat to board the ship. There was not a moment to lose. "Hornigold, go forward with your men to the forecastle. Velsers, come you hither with yours for the after guard. Teach, to the fore; Raveneau, to the main; and Rock, to the mizzenmast. Loose sail. Lively now. We must get out of this before the fort's awake," cried Morgan. [Illustration: Their blades crossed in an instant.... There was a roar from Carib's pistol, and the old man fell.] Instantly the shrouds were covered with nimble forms making their way aloft where the wide yard-arms stretched far over the sea. The men were in good spirits. The capture of the ship had been so easy; there had been only the anchor watch and the sentry on deck to deal with, and they had been murdered unsuspecting, although the cabin sentry had killed one of the attacking party and wounded another before he went down. They jumped with alacrity, therefore, to obey their captain's commands. As the ponderous sheets of canvas fell from the yards, the men lay down from aloft, and sheets and halyards were manned, the cable that moored the vessel to the anchor was cut, the ship swung to starboard, the yards were braced in, and she began to slip through the water toward the narrow mouth of the harbor. There were other war vessels in the harbor, but they were all dismantled and laid up in ordinary, so the buccaneers had no pursuit to fear. The guns of the fort commanded the harbor mouth, and under ordinary circumstances would have made it impossible for a ship to enter or leave without permission. The mouth was narrow and dangerous, but the best pilot in the West Indies stood forward leaning over the knightheads, conning the ship. Raveneau and Velsers, than whom no better seamen ever held a spoke, by Morgan's orders were stationed at the wheel to steer the frigate. Rock and Teach distributed the best of the men among the guns of the spar-deck battery on the port side. As was usual, the guns were already charged. There were no loggerheads available, no matches with which to fire them, but Morgan instructed those who seemed to have some skill in gunnery, whom he placed in temporary charge of the cannon, how to fire them by snapping their pistols at the touch-holes, which were primed from a powder horn that had been brought by the pirates. The land breeze was fresh and strong, and the _Mary Rose_ vindicated her claim to be considered a fast sailer. She fairly ripped down the harbor, threading her way through the channel under Hornigold's nice pilotage until she came near to the narrow entrance. By Morgan's orders each man remained motionless at the place where he had been stationed, and the ship, so far as human noise was concerned, was as still as death. Even the soldiers below, finding no attention paid to their cries, had subsided into comparative quiet. The silence was broken only by the creaking of cordage, the dashing of water against the bows, and the groaning of the timbers. Ever and anon Hornigold's deep voice, crying "Larboard" or "Starboard" as the case might be, rolled along the deck to the watchful men gripping the wheel. Suddenly the old buccaneer cried out sharply: "There's a boat right ahead, sir." "Run her down!" answered Morgan instantly. "Ay, ay! Starboard! Starboard again! Let her go off another half-point. Steady! Very well dyce. Now! Meet her! Meet her!" The ship swept around slightly and rushed directly at the boat. It was the boat of the Governor. Instantly wild cries arose from the men on the thwarts. They were stopped by a stern voice. "Ahoy, the _Mary Rose_!" Silence. "Ahoy, the frigate! What are you doing? Where is Admiral Kempthorne?" At that instant the soldiers beneath the hatches suddenly resumed their commotion, thus apprising the men in the boat that something was sadly wrong. "Larboard your helm!" cried a voice from the boat, "or you'll be on us. Who's in command? What are you about?" "Sir Harry Morgan!" shouted a voice out of the darkness. "And we mean to run you down." "Back water, for God's sake! Stern, all!" cried Lord Carlingford to the paralyzed rowers; but before they could move the looming bow of the frigate was upon them. Carlingford had risen in his boat before the collision, and with dauntless courage he shook his bared sword in the darkness toward the ship. "The King will triumph!" he cried. "You can go to hell!" shouted Morgan, "with Hawxherst and Bradley and Kempthorne and all who oppose me." A terrible, smashing crash cut short his words, and, amid the ripping, tearing sound of the parting timbers of the overridden boat, and shouts, cries, and appeals for mercy, the _Mary Rose_ swept on. One or two beneath her forefoot leaped frantically at the bobstays, but they were driven from their holds by savage pike thrusts from Hornigold's men. A wild yell of elation broke from the pirates. They were completely possessed by their success now, but Morgan stopped the noise in an instant. "Silence!" roared the captain. "We are not yet free. Back to your stations! Stand by the larboard battery!" At that time the entrance to the harbor was very narrow, and the channel swept close under the Port Royal shore. Everybody in the town knew that something had happened on the frigate. The garrison of the fort was out and the guns were loaded and bore fair upon the channel. Softly, for they were within earshot distance of the fort, Morgan passed the word to train the guns of the battery on the parapet of the fort. He also told off all the men with small arms to line the side, with instructions for them to fire at the port-holes of the fort as they passed, and he charged every one, under pain of death, to keep all fast until he gave the word. Hornigold bent all his mind to getting the ship safely out of the harbor. Two or three reliable men were stationed in the gangway, whose sole business it was to repeat his commands without fail during the confusion, no matter what happened. They were right in the entrance now, and coming opposite the fort. The men below were still keeping up a great noise, but a hail which came across the water from the rampart was entirely audible, the distance not being more than half pistol shot. "Hello, the _Mary Rose_! Hello, the frigate!" "Ay, ay! What is it?" "Where are you going? Where's Lord Carlingford?" There was no answer. The rapidly moving ship was fairly abreast the fort now. In thirty seconds she would be beyond it. "We have killed the Governor and Kempthorne, and this is the ship of Sir Henry Morgan, bound for the Spanish Main on a buccaneering cruise. Fire!" A perfect hail of shot at point blank range belched forth from the twenty-four guns of the larboard battery of the onrushing ship. In the surprise and confusion caused by this murderous discharge at short range, the frigate slipped by, and although every gun in the fort, whether it bore or not, was finally discharged by the infuriated soldiery, no serious damage was done to the ship. Here and there a man fell. The starboard main topsail sheet was cut, a few ropes parted, but that was all. Pouring a perfect hail of musketry and pistol fire upon the surprised garrison, which did execution, the frigate slipped through the channel. Before the cannon could be reloaded they were out of range. There before them lay the open sea, bounded to the southward by the rich and unprotected cities of the Spanish Main. "We're out of the harbor, sir," cried Hornigold, coming aft to where Morgan stood triumphant on the poop. "That's well!" said the commander. "Secure the guns and muster the crew. We'll divide into watches and bear away to the southward." "Long live Sir Henry Morgan, King of the Buccaneers!" cried a voice out of the darkness, and amid a tremendous roar of cheers the vessel swept away, leaving the lights of Port Royal twinkling faintly in the distance far behind them. BOOK II THE CRUISE OF THE BUCCANEERS AND WHAT BEFEL THEM ON THE SEAS CHAPTER V HOW THE "MARY ROSE" OVERHAULED THREE SPANISH TREASURE SHIPS Ten days after her departure from Port Royal the _Mary Rose_ was tumbling southward before a gentle breeze through the blue and languid seas. Much had happened in the interval. In the first place, Morgan had organized and drilled the ship's crew relentlessly. With the aid of the five principal adventurers, whom he had constituted his lieutenants, he had brought the motley crowd which he had shipped into a state of comparative efficiency and of entire subjection to his iron will. Years of quasi-respectability, of financial position, of autocratic power as Vice-Governor had modified the ideas of the old buccaneer, and the co-operative principle which had been the mainspring of action as well as tie which produced unity among the brethren-of-the-coast had ceased to be regarded, so far as he was concerned. He took care, however, to be upon fairly amicable terms with the officers in command and the veterans, though he treated the rest of the riff-raff like the dogs they were. They murmured and raged but did not revolt, although it was quite possible that if he pushed them too far, and they found a leader, they might make trouble. In accordance with Hornigold's advice, after deliberation between Morgan and the leaders, the _Mary Rose_ had first run up to La Vaca Island, south of Hispaniola, and the number of original marauders had been increased by fifty volunteers, all those, indeed, who could be reached, from the small pirates who made that delectable spot their rendezvous. In addition to those, the crew had also been reënforced largely from those of the unpaid and discontented seamen and soldiers of the frigate who had happened to be under hatches the night of the capture. Presented with the choice of instant death or adherence to the band, most of them had accepted the latter alternative, although, to their great credit be it said, not until one or two of the loyal veterans, who had hotly refused to have anything to do with their ruffianly captors, had been forced to walk the plank as an example to the rest should they prove recalcitrant. Partly through terror, partly through discontent, partly on account of promises of the great reward awaiting them, speciously urged by Morgan himself, for he could talk as well as he could fight, and, most of all, because even at that date it was considered a meritorious act to attack a Spaniard or a Papist under any circumstances or conditions, especially by persons as ignorant as the class in question, some seventy cast in their lot with the rest. Among the two hundred and twenty members of the heterogeneous crew so constituted, were to be found natives of almost every race under the sun, even including one or two Spanish renegados, and it would be safe to say that the lowest and meanest representatives of the several races were assembled on that very ship. The officers and men who had been recruited from Isla La Vaca, as well as the older original members of the crew of the _Mary Rose_, together with a select few of the remainder, were men of approved courage. The officers, indeed, bore reputations for hardihood and daring not to be surpassed. Most of the rest, however, were arrant cowards. As a body the band could not compare, except in leadership, with the former bands of buccaneers who had made themselves and their names a terror to Latin civilization in the New World. Morgan himself, however, almost made up for all deficiencies. Age had not quenched his ardor, diminished his courage, or deprived him of that magnetic quality which had made him an unquestioned leader of men. His eye was as keen, his hand as steady, his soul as reckless, and his skill as high as when he had led the greatest buccaneer fleet that had ever assembled, on the famous Panama expedition. Everybody on the ship hated him except young Teach and the faithful Black Dog; the old buccaneers because he had betrayed them, the soldiers and sailors of the crew because he had captured their ship and forced them to become his allies, the mean and lowly body of rascals because he kept them ruthlessly under hand. But they all feared him as much as they hated him and they admired him as much as they feared him. So far as he was concerned discipline was absolute. He still seemed to fancy himself the Vice-Governor and the representative of that King against whom he had taken up arms. He demanded to be treated accordingly. No admiral of the fleet was ever served more promptly and respectfully than he. Even his nearest associates were treated with a certain haughtiness, which they bitterly resented and which they would have called in question had the situation been other than it was. Truth to tell, influenced by Hornigold, they had embarked upon a mad enterprise, and they needed Morgan to bring it to a successful conclusion. Without him the slender coherence which already existed would fail, and anarchy would be the state upon the ship. There would be nothing left to them but to scatter if they could make an unheeded landing at some convenient place, or be captured, if they could not, with a certainty of being hung forthwith. So long as they remained together, it was certain that Morgan would lead them on some successful enterprise and they might get some reward for their risks and crimes. In his safety lay their safety. The buccaneer was entirely aware of this, and therefore counted freely upon the backing of the veterans among the officers and crew. He would take care of the rest. The ship, however, was a floating colony of suspicion, treachery, and hatred. Morgan himself never appeared without being loaded with weapons, not for bravado but for use should occasion rise, and his back was always protected by the silent and gigantic maroon, whom the sailors, catching the title from those who had known him of old, referred to with malignant hatred as "Black Dog." That was a name, indeed, which the taciturn half-breed rather rejoiced in than resented. Morgan had been able to awaken love in no hearts except those of young Teach, whose feeling was admiration rather than affection, and this half-breed maroon. Whether it was from his black African mother or from his fierce red Carib father he inherited the quality of devotion was not apparent. Devoted he had been and devoted he remained. Close association in the narrow confines of the ship with the man who had, as he believed, wronged him, had but intensified Hornigold's hatred. The One-Eyed found it difficult to dissemble, and took refuge in a reticence which was foreign to his original frank and open character. Morgan half suspected the state of affairs in his old boatswain's moiled and evil soul, and he watched him on account of it more closely than the others, but with no great disquiet in his heart. Truth to tell, the old pirate was never so happy as in the midst of dangers, imminent and threatening, which would have broken the spirit of a less resolute man. There was one among the officers he was sure of and upon whom he could depend in an emergency, and that was young Teach. He had flattered him by unusual marks of kindness, and alone among the officers this fellow did not seem to cherish the rancor and suspicion of the others. He was too young to have experienced a betrayal as had the rest; this was his first venture in actual piracy and he found it marvelously pleasant. The officers, too, were all suspicious of one another. As each one nursed his own private designs he suspected the others of doing likewise--and with reason. But there was as yet little outward friction among them. Raveneau, for instance, was most scrupulously polite to the captain and his associates. Velsers was too stupid in his cups--and he was generally in them--to do more than growl, and the Brazilian had all the capacities of his race for subtle concealment. Although the necessary orders for working the ship were obeyed and Morgan personally imposed implicit obedience and respect for his commands, no duties other than those required were performed by the men. During the day when not at work or at drill, they drank, smoked, gambled, and fought at pleasure, although, as the captain mercilessly exercised them during long hours at the great guns and with small arms, they did not have any too much leisure for play. During the night they kept watch and watch, of course, but in it all they took no care of the ship, and filth and dirt abounded. If they had anticipated a long cruise things would necessarily have been different, but as they had gone far to the southward now, and might make a landfall at any moment there was no necessity for bothering about mere cleanliness, which, as it is supposed to be next to godliness, was naturally far removed from this band of cut-throats. Morgan had not communicated his ultimate purposes to his men as yet, but as he was the only navigator on the ship he was, perforce, allowed to have his own way. Breakfast had been served--a meagre breakfast it was, too, for all hands were on short allowance of everything but spirits, on account of the unprovided state of the ship. Fortunately for their contentment, there was plenty of rum on board. The men were congregated forward on the forecastle or in the waist, wrangling and arguing as usual. The officers gathered on the quarter-deck, and Morgan paced the high raised poop alone, overlooking them, when the lookout suddenly reported three sail in sight. The half-drunken sailor who had been sent aloft at daybreak had kept negligent watch, for almost as soon as he had made his report the ships were observed from the deck of the frigate. The _Mary Rose_ had the wind on her quarter, her best point of sailing, and she was covered with canvas from her trucks to her decks, from her spritsail yard to her huge mizzen crossjack, a lateen sail. The wind was light, but she was making rapid progress toward the approaching strangers, who, with their larboard tacks aboard, were beating up toward the English. Attended by the maroon, Morgan, pistol in hand, went forward to the forecastle, kicking his way clear through the sullen, black-browed mass of sailors. He ran a short distance up the weather fore-shrouds and took a long look at the strangers. They all flew the yellow flag of Spain. One was a huge galleon, the other two smaller ships, though larger in each instance than the _Mary Rose_, and all heavily armed. One of the plate ships from Porto Bello was due in this latitude about this time, and Morgan instantly surmised that the galleon was she, and that the two others were Spanish frigates to give her safe convoy across the ocean. Spain was at peace with all the world at that time, and the two frigates would have been ample to ward off the attack of any of the small piratical craft which had succeeded the buccaneer ships of the Caribbean. The Spaniards had no idea that such a vulture as Morgan was afloat; therefore, although they had sighted the _Mary Rose_ long before she had seen them because they kept better watch, they came on fearlessly and without hesitation. It was evident to the experienced officers among them that the vessel was an English frigate, and as England was a country with which there was profound peace at the time they apprehended nothing. The position of the approaching ships with reference to one another was somewhat peculiar. The first and smallest frigate was perhaps half a mile ahead of her consorts, who were sailing side by side, a cable's length apart. Morgan at once determined to attack them. He knew that he possessed the handiest ship, and he believed that he had discovered a way to master the other three. The two frigates were the most dangerous antagonists. If he could dispose of them the galleon would be at his mercy. He did not hesitate to encounter such odds, and even in the minds of the craven part of the crew one English ship was thought to be good for any three Spaniards that ever floated. The interest of the crew had been excited by the approaching strangers, which were rapidly drawing nearer. They ceased their arguments and strife, therefore, and crowded forward, looking alternately from the foreign ships to their own leader, lightly poised on the sheer-poles scanning the enemy. There were plenty of men of sufficient experience among them to pronounce them Spanish ships immediately, and they therefore anticipated that work lay before them that morning. Presently Morgan sprang down upon the forecastle and faced his men. "Lads," he said, "those are Spanish ships." "Ay, ay, sir," came from one another as he paused a moment to let the significance of his announcement sink in. "And," he continued, raising his voice so that it was audible throughout the ship, "the great one will be one of the plate ships homeward bound--but she'll never get there--from Porto Bello!" A perfect yell of delight drowned his further remarks. The men shrieked and shouted and hurrahed at the joyous announcement, as if all they had to do was to go aboard and take the ships. When the hullabaloo had subsided, Morgan continued: "I'm glad to see you take it so bravely, for while there is treasure enough under her hatches to make us all rich, yet we'll not get it without a fight, for yonder are two heavily armed frigates. We'll have to dispose of them before we get at the galleon. But, hearts of oak, I never saw the buccaneer who wasn't worth three or a dozen of the Dons, and with a stout ship like this one under my feet and a band of brave hearts like you I wouldn't hesitate to tackle the whole Spanish navy. It means a little fighting, but think of the prize!" he cried, playing skilfully upon the cupidity of his men. "Some of us will lose the number of our messes, perhaps, before nightfall; but," he continued, making a most singular and effective appeal, "there will be more to divide for each man that is left alive. Are you with me?" "To the death!" cried young Teach, who had come forward and mingled with the crowd, lifting a naked cutlass as he spoke. His cry was taken up and repeated, first by one and then another until the whole body was yelling frantically to be given a chance to fight the Spanish ships. "That's well," said Morgan grimly. "Master Teach, here, will command forward on the fo'c'sl. Raveneau and Velsers shall attend to the batteries in the waist. I appoint you, Hornigold, to look after the movements of the ship. See that the best hands are at the wheel and have sail trimmers ready. My Portuguese friend, you may look to the after guns. Now to your stations. Cast loose and provide! Man the larboard battery! See every thing is ready, but hold your fire and keep silence under pain of death! Yon frigate over there, we'll strike first. She'll be unprepared and unsuspecting. One good blow ought to dispose of her." As he spoke, the men hurried to their stations. There was no lack of skill on the frigate, and now was seen the value of Morgan's constant drilling. The cannon of the ship were cast loose and loaded, loggerheads and matches lighted, small arms distributed and primed, pikes were served out, cutlasses loosened in their sheaths, and such as had armor, still worn in greater or less degree even in that day, donned it, and the ship was full of busy preparation. "We've no flag flying, sir," said Hornigold as the men settled down to their stations, grim and ready. "Ay," said Morgan, "show the English flag. We'll make as much trouble for his gracious majesty, King James, as possible." In a short time the glorious colors of England, which had never waved over so despicable a crew before, rippled out in the freshening breeze. As they were rapidly approaching the Spanish ship now, Morgan descended from the poop-deck to make a personal inspection of his frigate before beginning action. He found everything to his taste, and passed along the lines of silent men congregated around the guns with words of stern appreciation. The crews of the guns had been constituted with great care. The gun captains in each instance were tried and proved seamen, men as fearless as they were capable. The weaker and the more wretched portion of the band had been so placed that opportunity for showing cowardice would be greatly circumscribed, and the stern command of the captain that the officers and petty officers should instantly shoot any man who flinched from duty was not without effect. He did not hesitate to remind the men, either, that they fought with halters around their necks. As even the craven becomes dangerous when pushed to the wall, he felt they would give a good account of themselves. "Hornigold," said Morgan, as he stepped up on the quarter-deck again, "I want the frigate to pass as close to windward of that Spanish ship as you can bring her without touching. Let her not suspect our desire, but whirl into her as we get abreast. Don't fall foul of her as you value your life!" "Ay, ay, sir," answered that veteran, squinting forward along the jib-boom with his one eye as if measuring the distance, "I'll bring her close enough for you to leap aboard and yet never touch a rope yarn on her." He spoke with the consciousness and pride of his skill. "Now, lads," cried Morgan, "have everything ready, and when I give the word pour it in on yonder ship. I want to settle her with one broadside. It'll be touch and go, for we've got to dispose of her in an instant. Stand by for the word! Now, lie down, all, behind the bulwarks and rails. Let us make no show of force as we come up. We must not arouse suspicion." The two ships, the _Mary Rose_ going free, the Spanish frigate close hauled on the port tack, were now within hailing distance. As they approached each other the buccaneer could see that the other ship was crowded with men. Among her people the flash of sunlight upon iron helms denoted that she carried a company of soldiers. The Spaniards were entirely unsuspecting. The men had not gone to their quarters, the guns were still secured; in short, save for the military trappings of the soldiers on board and the tompioned muzzles of her cannon, she was in appearance as peaceful a vessel as sailed the seas. The two ships were near enough now to make conversation possible, and the _Mary Rose_ was hailed by a tall, richly dressed officer in glistening breastplate and polished steel cap, standing on the forecastle of the other ship. "What ship is that?" he cried in broken English. "This is the frigate _Mary Rose_." The usual answer to such a hail would have been: "This is His Britannic Majesty's frigate _Mary Rose_," but the Spaniards suspected nothing as Morgan continued, "carrying Sir Henry Morgan, sometime Vice-Governor of the Island of Jamaica." "I have the honor to wish the Vice-Governor a very good morning," answered the Spaniard, courteously waving his hand in salutation. "Now, Hornigold, now!" said Morgan in a fierce whisper. The old boatswain sprang himself to the wheel. With his powerful hands he revolved it quickly until it was hard up. The frigate answered it instantly. She swung away toward the Spaniard to leeward of her with a suddenness that surprised even her steersman. "And I salute the Vice-Governor," continued the Spanish captain, just as the English ship swept down upon him; and then he cried in sudden alarm and excitement: "Have a care, señor! What mean you? You will be aboard of us! Hard up with the helm!" As soon as the _Mary Rose_ had begun to fall off, ay, even before her motion had been perceptible, Hornigold had reversed the helm. "Flow the head sheets there," he cried, shoving the wheel over spoke by spoke with all the force of his arms. "Flatten in aft a little, here! Steady! Very well dyce. We're right abreast now, Captain," he said. Almost as quickly as she had fallen off the nimble frigate, beautifully handled, came to the wind again. She was now almost in touch with the other ship. Hornigold's seamanship and skill had been magnificent. He had done all that was asked of him and all that he had promised. "Ay, ay," answered Morgan in triumphant commendation. "Handsomely done. I could leap aboard!" The Spanish ship was filled with confusion. The captain, with his face black with rage, stood on the forecastle shaking his fist. "This is outrageous, sir!" he shouted. "You have nearly run us down! What do you want?" "I want to return your salute," answered Morgan suavely. "Up, lads!" he cried. As the men sprang to their feet, he roared out fiercely: "Stand by! Fire! Pour it into them!" The _Mary Rose_ was almost in contact with the Spanish ship, when a perfect tornado of fire burst from her side. Every gun in her broadside, and she was a forty-eight gun frigate, was discharged point-blank at the astonished enemy. Not waiting to reload the guns, the crew seized the small arms ready charged to hand, and as they slowly swept by poured a withering fire upon the Spaniard's crowded decks. Out of the flame and smoke the _Mary Rose_ burst upon the astounded eyes of the officers and men of the two remaining ships. The first frigate was a wreck on the water. Some of the pirate guns had been depressed, great holes had been opened by the shot, the masts had been carried away, and the devoted ship was sinking, her decks covered with dead and dying. "We wish you the compliments of the morning, señor," roared Morgan, facing aft toward the battered and ruined frigate. "How like you our salute?" But the captain of the Spanish vessel lay dead upon his bloody deck, and if any answered the jeering taunt it was drowned by the laughter and cheering of the English crew. They had eliminated the first ship from the game. They had diminished their enemies by a third, and full of confidence they swept down upon the other two. CHAPTER VI IN WHICH IS RELATED THE STRANGE EXPEDIENT OF THE CAPTAIN AND HOW THEY TOOK THE GREAT GALLEON Although they could not comprehend the reason for the vicious attack upon their consort by a ship of a supposedly friendly power, it was evident to the Spaniards in the two remaining ships that the English frigate was approaching them with the most sinister and malevolent purpose. One glance at the sinking remains of their ruined and battered consort established that fact in the most obtuse mind. Consequently the exultant men on the _Mary Rose_ could hear the shrill notes of the trumpeters on the two other ships calling their men to arms. [Illustration] With a confidence born of success, however, Morgan resolutely bore down upon the enemy. Even the dastards in his crew had been excited by the ease and success of the first treacherous blow and plucked up courage, believing that their captain's invincible skill, address, and seamanship would carry them safely through the next encounter. The Spanish had little warning after all, for the breeze was rapidly freshening, and in what seemed an incredibly short time the English frigate was close at hand. Though they worked with a desperate energy they had not entirely completed those preparations required by the shock of battle. As usual, Morgan was determined to lose no time. If he could have thrown his vessel upon them out of the fire and smoke of the first broadside he would have gained the victory with scarcely less difficulty than he had seized the first advantage, but that was not to be, and it was with considerable anxiety that he surveyed the crowded decks of the two remaining ships. He had no fear of the armament of either one, but if those Spanish soldiers ever got a footing upon his own deck it was probable they could not be dislodged without a tremendous sacrifice of life; and as he gazed over his motley crew he even questioned their ability to contend successfully with such a mass of veterans. He had hoped that the remaining frigate would detach herself from the galleon, in which event the superior handiness and mobility of his own ship, to say nothing of his probable advantage in the way in which his batteries would be fought, would enable him to dispose of her without too much difficulty. Then he could with ease place the huge and unwieldy galleon at his mercy. But the two Spanish ships stuck close together, too close indeed, Morgan thought, for their own safety. They were both on the wind with their larboard tacks aboard, the frigate slightly ahead of and to windward of the galleon, on the side, that is, whence the _Mary Rose_ was approaching. So far as he could divine it, the Spanish plan, if they had formulated any in their hurry, appeared to be for the frigate to engage the _Mary Rose_, and while she had the latter ship under her battery, the galleon would tack across the English vessel's bows, or stern as might be, rake her, get her between the two ships, run her aboard, and thus effect her ruin. The plan was simple, practicable, and promised easy success, provided the Englishman did what was expected of him. Morgan was not to be caught napping that way. As he rushed down upon them there came into his head one of the most daring ideas that has ever flashed across a seaman's brain. Hastily summoning Braziliano he bade him take a dozen of his men, descend to the after magazine, procure two or three barrels of powder from the gunner, and stow them in the cabin under the poop-deck. He charged him to do it as quietly as possible and take only men for the purpose upon whom he could depend. While this was being done young Teach was also summoned from the forecastle, his place being taken by old Velsers, whose division in the battery was placed under the command of Raveneau. There was a whispered colloquy between the chieftain and his young subordinate, after which the latter nodded his head, ran below, and concealed himself in one of the staterooms under the quarter-deck. In a little space the Portuguese reappeared with his men and announced that they had completed their task; whereupon they were directed to return to their stations. Meanwhile the crew had been recharging the battery and reloading the small arms. Morgan addressed to them a few words of hearty approval of their previous actions and predicted an easy victory over the two ships. The Spanish captain naturally supposed--and indeed the courses upon which the three ships were sailing if persisted in would have brought about the result--that the _Mary Rose_ would pass along his larboard side, and the two vessels would engage in the formal manner of the period, yard-arm to yard-arm, until the galleon could get into action and so settle it in the purposed way. He intended, of course, if it could be brought about, to throw the masses of soldiers he was transporting home upon the English decks, and carry the frigate by boarding. Again Morgan put Hornigold in charge of the manoeuvering of the ship, and again that old worthy chose to handle the spokes himself. There was a brief conversation between them, and then the English captain ran forward on the forecastle. The ships were very near now. In a moment or two they would pass each other in parallel courses, though in opposite direction, and their broadsides would bear; but when the _Mary Rose_ was about a cable's length from the Spanish frigate something happened. The astonished Don heard a sharp command ring out from the approaching English ship, after which she made a wide sweep and came driving straight at him at a furious speed. The English captain intended to run him down! Here was to be no passage along his broadside. The other was upon him! The cutwater of the onrushing ship loomed up before him tremendously. Instantly all was confusion on the Spanish ship! The steersman lost his head, and without orders put his helm up sharply; some one cut the sheet of the after-sail on the huge lateen yard, and the frigate went whirling around on her heel like a top, in a violent and fatal, as well as vain, effort to get out of the road. It was a most foolish manoeuvre, for close at hand on the lee side of her the galleon came lumbering along. Her captain, too, had seen the peril, and had elected to meet it by tacking under his consort's stern. But he was too near, and the other ship fell off and was swept to leeward too rapidly. His own ship, cumbersome and unwieldy, as they always were, was slow in answering the helm. The frigate and galleon came together with a terrific crash. The shock carried away the foretopmast of the frigate, which fell across the head yards of the galleon. The two ships were instantly locked together. They swung drifting and helpless in the tossing waters. Morgan had counted upon this very catastrophe. A twist of the helm, a touch of the braces, and the prow of the _Mary Rose_ swung to windward. As her batteries bore she hurled their messengers of death into the crowded masses on the Spanish ships. Although dismayed by the collision, the gunners on the frigate made a spirited reply with a discharge which at such close range did much execution. Unfortunately for her, the _Mary Rose_ had rushed so close to the two entangled ships that it was impossible for her to escape hitting them. The English captain would have given anything if he could have gone free of the mass, for he could have passed under the stern of the two helpless ships, raked them, and probably would have had them at his mercy; but his dash at them had been an earnest one, and in order to carry out his plan successfully he had been forced to throw his ship right upon them. Therefore, though the helm was shifted and the braces hauled in an effort to get clear, and though the ship under Morgan's conning and Hornigold's steering was handled as few ships have ever been handled, and though it was one of the speediest and most weatherly of vessels, they could not entirely swing her clear. The stern of the frigate crashed against the stern of the nearest Spanish ship drifting frantically to leeward. The Spanish captain, mortified and humiliated beyond expression by the mishap, instantly realized that this contact presented them with a possibility of retrieving themselves. Before the ships could be separated, grappling irons were thrown, and in a second the three were locked in a close embrace. Morgan had anticipated this situation also, although he had hoped to avoid it, and had prepared for it. As the two ships became fast the high poop and rail of the Spaniard were black with iron-capped men. They swarmed over on the lower poop and quarter-deck of the _Mary Rose_ in a dense mass. Fortunately, the small arms on both sides had been discharged a moment before and there had been no time to reload. The remainder of the engagement to all intents and purposes would be fought with the cold steel. Morgan had gained an advantage in throwing the two ships into collision, but he appeared to have lost it again because he had been unable to clear the wrecks himself. The advantage was now with the Spaniards, whose force outnumbered his own two or three to one. Surprising as it was to the old buccaneers and the bolder spirits among his crew, whose blood was up sufficiently to enable them to long for the onset, Morgan had run to the waist of the ship when he saw the inevitable collision and had called all hands from the poop and quarter. The _Mary Rose_ was provided with an elevated quarter-deck and above that a high poop. Massing his men in the gangways just forward of the mainmast and on the forecastle itself, with the hardiest spirits in the front line and Morgan himself in advance of all sword in hand, the two parties contemplated each other for a little space before joining in the onset. The poop and quarter-deck were crowded so thick with Spanish soldiers and sailors that room could scarcely be found for the increasing procession, for, anxious to be in at the death, the men of the galleon clinging to the frigate ran across and joined their comrades. Here were trained and veteran soldiers in overwhelming numbers, with the advantage of position in that they fought from above down, to oppose which Morgan had his motley crew behind him. "Yield, you dastardly villain!" shouted the captain of the Spanish frigate, who was in the fore of his men. "Shall I have good quarter?" cried Morgan. A low growl ran through the ranks of the buccaneers at this question. Yet the rapscallions among the crew back of him instantly took up the cry. "Quarter! Quarter! We surrender! We strike! For heaven's sake----" "Silence!" roared Morgan--an order which was enforced by the officers and veterans by fierce blows with pistol butts, hilts of swords, and even naked fists. "I would hear the answer of the Spanish captain." "We give no quarter to pirates and murderers," the other shouted. "That's what I thought," said Morgan triumphantly, and as he spoke he drew from his pocket a silver whistle like a boatswain's call. He blew it shrilly before the wondering men. At that instant Teach, followed by the few men who had remained below in the powder division, came running up to Morgan from the hatchway between the two forces. "Is't done?" cried the captain. "Ay, sir. In another----" "Forward, gentlemen!" shouted the Spanish captain, dropping from the quarter-deck to the main-deck. "God and St. Jago! Have at them!" Before he had taken two steps the terrific roar of a deafening explosion came to the startled buccaneers out of the blast of flame and smoke, in the midst of which could be heard shrieks and groans of the most terrible anguish. Teach had connected the powder with the fuse, and when he had heard the sound of Morgan's whistle, the agreed signal, he had ignited it and blown up the stern of the frigate. The Spaniards were hurled in every direction. So powerful was the concussion that the front ranks of the buccaneers were also thrown down by it. Morgan happened to fall by the side of the Spanish captain, and the latter, though badly wounded, with determined and heroic valor raised himself on his arm and strove to kill the buccaneer. But the faithful Carib, who had reserved one charged pistol by his master's command for such an emergency, shot him dead. Morgan struggled to his feet and looked at the scene. Some of his men did not rise with the others, for they had been killed by the falling splinters and bits of iron. The whole stern of the _Mary Rose_ was gone. There wasn't a Spaniard left before them. A few figures shrieking vainly for help, clutching at floating pieces of timber, might be seen struggling in the sea. The Spanish frigate had a great hole in the port side of her after-works. She was on fire. The three ships were rocking as if in a hurricane. Panic filled the minds of the greater part of the buccaneers at this tremendous catastrophe. Had Morgan to save himself ruined his own ship? They were appalled by the terrific expedient of their captain. Wild cries and imprecations burst forth. "The ship is sinking!" "We are lost!" "Silence!" shouted Morgan, again and again. "The ship is sinking, but our ship is there. Let those who love life follow me." He sprang at the burning rail of the Spanish frigate. Black Dog was at his heels, Ben Hornigold followed hard upon, Teach was on the other side. From the waist Raveneau and the Brazilian strove to inspire the men. Old Velsers from the forecastle drove them forward as quickly as he could. Presently they recovered their courage in some measure, for the fighting force of the enemy had disappeared. They had lost a ship, but there were two other ships before them. They swarmed over the rail with cheers and cries. There was little or no resistance. The men of the frigate were stunned into helplessness by the explosion, although the captain of the galleon rallied a few men and fought until they were all cut down, and the two ships were taken by storm. They had scarcely gained the deck of the galleon before the remains of the _Mary Rose_ sank beneath the sea, the wounded upon the decks vainly crying for succor. By this time the weather side of the remaining Spanish ship was a mass of flame and there was imminent danger that the fire would be communicated to the galleon. Giving his men time for nothing, Morgan set to work furiously to extricate himself. Axes and hatchets were plied and all the skill and seamanship of the conquerors brought into play. Finally they succeeded in getting clear and working away from the burning frigate. Morgan at once put the galleon before the wind, and when he had drawn away a short distance, hove to the ship to take account of the damage before determining his future course. Far back on the ocean and low in the water drifted the sinking remains of the first Spanish frigate. Near at hand was the hulk of the second ship, now a blazing furnace. The first was filled with living men, many of them desperately wounded. No attention was paid to them by the buccaneers. They cried for mercy unheeded. Anyway their suspense would soon be over. Indeed, the first ship sank and the second blew up with a fearful explosion a short time after they got away. A brief inspection showed that the galleon had suffered little or no damage that could not be repaired easily at sea. Taking account of his men, Morgan found that about twenty were missing. Taking no care for them nor for the two ships he had fought so splendidly, pirate though he was, he clapped sail on the galleon and bore away to the southward. CHAPTER VII WHEREIN BARTHOLOMEW SAWKINS MUTINIED AGAINST HIS CAPTAIN AND WHAT BEFEL HIM ON THAT ACCOUNT [Illustration] The _Almirante Recalde_, for such was the name of the galleon, was easily and speedily repaired by the skilled seamen of the _Mary Rose_ under such leadership and direction as the experience of Morgan and the officers afforded. By the beginning of the first dog-watch even a critical inspection would scarcely have shown that she had been in action. With the wise forethought of a seaman, Morgan had subordinated every other duty to the task of making the vessel fit for any danger of the sea, and he had deferred any careful examination of her cargo until everything had been put shipshape again; although by his hurried questioning of the surviving officers he had learned that the _Almirante Recalde_ was indeed loaded with treasure of Peru, which had been received by her _via_ the Isthmus of Panama for transportation to Spain. On board her were several priests returning to Spain headed by one Fra Antonio de Las Casas, together with a band of nuns under the direction of an aged abbess, Sister Maria Christina. In the indiscriminate fury of the assault one or two of the priests had been killed, but so soon as the ship had been fully taken possession of the lives of the surviving clerics and the lives of the good sisters had been spared by Morgan's express command. These unfortunate women had been forced into the great cabin, where they were guarded by men in whom confidence could be placed. The priests were allowed to minister to their dying compatriots so long as they kept out of the way of the sailors. No feeling of pity or compassion induced Morgan to withhold the women from his crew. He was a man of prudent foresight and he preserved them for a purpose, a purpose in which the priests were included. In the hold of the ship nearly one hundred and fifty wretched prisoners were discovered. They were the crew of the buccaneer ship _Daring_, which had been commanded by a famous adventurer named Ringrose, who had been captured by a Spanish squadron after a desperate defense off the port of Callao, Peru. They were being transported to Spain, where they had expected summary punishment for their iniquities. No attention whatever had been paid to their protests that they were Englishmen, and indeed the statement was hardly true for at least half of them belonged to other nations. In the long passage from Callao to the Isthmus and thence through the Caribbean they had been kept rigorously under hatches. Close confinement for many days and enforced subsistence upon a scanty and inadequate diet had caused many to die and impaired the health of the survivors. When the hatch covers were opened, the chains unshackled and the miserable wretches brought on deck, their condition moved even some of the buccaneers to pity. The galleon was generously provided for her long cruise across the ocean, and the released prisoners, by Morgan's orders, were liberally treated. No work was required of them; they were allowed to wander about the decks at pleasure, refreshed by the open air, the first good meal they had enjoyed in several months, and by a generous allowance of spirits. As soon as they learned the object of the cruise, without exception they indicated their desire to place themselves under the command of Morgan. Ringrose, their captain, had been killed, and they were without a leader, which was fortunate in that it avoided the complications of divided command. Fortunate, that is, for Ringrose, for Morgan would have brooked no rival on such an expedition. As soon as it could be done, a more careful inspection and calculation satisfied the buccaneer of the immense value of his prize. The lading of the galleon, consisting principally of silver bullion, was probably worth not far from a million Spanish dollars--pieces of eight! This divided among the one hundred and eighty survivors of the original crew meant affluence for even the meanest cabin boy. It was wealth such as they had not even dreamed of. It was a prize the value of which had scarcely ever been paralleled. They were assembled forward of the quarter-deck when the announcement was made. When they understood the news the men became drunk with joy. It would seem as if they had been suddenly stricken mad. Some of them stared in paralyzed silence, others broke into frantic cheers and yells, some reeled and shuddered like drunken men. The one person who preserved his imperturbable calmness was Morgan himself. The gratitude of these men toward him was overwhelming. Even those who had good cause to hate him forgot for the time being their animosity--all except Hornigold, whose hatred was beyond all price. Under his leadership they had achieved such a triumph as had scarcely ever befallen them in the palmiest days of their career, and with little or no loss they had been put in possession of a prodigious treasure. They crowded about him presently with enthusiastic cheers of affection and extravagant vows of loving service. All, that is, except Hornigold, whose sense of injury, whose thirst for vengeance, was so deep that all the treasure of Potosi itself would not have abated one jot or one tittle of it. The general joy, however, was not shared by the rescued buccaneers. Although they had but a few hours before despaired of life in the loathsome depths of the vile hold, and they had been properly grateful for the sudden and unexpected release which had given them their liberty and saved them from the gibbet, yet it was not in any human man, especially a buccaneer, to view with equanimity the distribution--or the proposed distribution--of so vast a treasure and feel that he could not share in it. The fresh air and the food and drink had already done much for those hardy ruffians. They were beginning to regain, if not all their strength, at least some of their courage and assurance. They congregated in little groups here and there among Morgan's original men and stared with lowering brows and flushed faces at the frantic revel in which they could not participate. Not even the cask of rum which Morgan ordered broached to celebrate the capture, and of which all hands partook with indiscriminate voracity, could bring joy to their hearts. After matters had quieted down somewhat--and during this time the galleon had been mainly left to navigate herself--Morgan deemed it a suitable occasion to announce his ultimate designs to the men. "Gentlemen, shipmates, and bold hearts all," he cried, waving his hand for silence, "we have captured the richest prize probably that floats on the ocean. There are pieces of eight and silver bullion enough beneath the hatches, as I have told you, to make us rich for life, to say nothing of the gold, jewels, spices, and whatnot, besides----" He was interrupted by another yell of appreciation. "But, men," he continued, "I hardly know what to do with it." "Give it to us," roared a voice, which was greeted with uproarious laughter, "we'll make away with it." Morgan marked down with his eye the man who had spoken and went on. "The ports of His Majesty, the King of England, will be closed to us so soon as our capture of the _Mary Rose_ is noted. England is at peace with the world. There is not a French or Spanish port that would give us a haven. If we appeared anywhere in European waters with this galleon we would be taken and hanged. Now, what's to be done?" "Run the ship ashore on the New England coast," cried the man who had spoken before. "Divide the treasure. Burn the ship and scatter. Let every man look to his own share and his own neck." "A plan, a plan!" "Ay, that'll be the way of it!" "Sawkins is right!" "To the New England shore! Ben Hornigold will pilot the ship!" burst in confused clamor from the crew to whom the plan appealed. "By heaven, no!" shouted Morgan. "That's well enough for you, not for me. I'm a marked man. You can disappear. I should be taken, and Hornigold and Raveneau and the rest. It won't do. We must stay by the ship." "And what then?" "Keep to the original plan. We'll sail this ship down to the Spanish Main and capture a town, divide our treasure, make our way overland to the Pacific, where we'll find another ship, and then away to the South Seas! Great as is our booty, there is still more to be had there for the taking. We'll be free to go where we please with the whole South American coast at hand. There are islands, tropic islands, there, where it's always summer. They are ours for the choosing. We can establish ourselves there. We'll found a community, with every man a law for himself. We'll----" But the recital of this Utopian dream was rudely interrupted. "Nay, Master," cried Sawkins, who had done most of the talking from among the crew, "we go no farther." He was confident that he had the backing of the men, and in that confidence grew bold with reckless temerity. Flushed by the victory of the morning, the rum he had imbibed, intoxicated by the thought of the treasure which was to be shared, the man went on impudently: "No, Sir Harry Morgan, we've decided to follow our latest plan. We'll work this ship up to the New England coast and wreck her there. There are plenty of spots where she can be cast away safely and none to know it. We'll obey you there and no further. We've got enough treasure under hatches to satisfy any reasonable man. We're not afeared o' the King if you are." "You fool!" thundered Morgan. "You will be hanged as soon as your part in the adventure is known." "And who is to make it known, pray? As you said, we are poor ignorant men. It's nothing to us if you are marked, and you, and you," he continued, stepping forward and pointing successively at Morgan and the little band of officers who surrounded him. "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, we'd have you understand, and we're content with what we've got. We don't take no stock in them islands of yours. We can get all the women we want, and of our own kind without crossing the Isthmus. We don't want no further cruisin'. There's no need for us to land on the Spanish Main. We've made up our minds to 'bout ship and bear away to the northward. Am I right, mates?" "Ay, ay, right you are!" roared the men surging aft. "You mutinous hound!" yelled Morgan, leaning forward in a perfect fury of rage, and his passion was something appalling to look upon. Hornigold clutched at the helm, which had been deserted by the seamen detailed to it during the course of the hot debate. The old man cast one long, anxious glance to windward where a black squall was apparently brewing. But he said nothing. The argument was between Morgan and his crew, there was no need for him to interfere. Teach, Raveneau, Velsers, and the officers drew their pistols and bared their swords, but most of the crew were also armed, and if it came to a trial of strength the cabin gang was so overwhelmingly outnumbered that it would have been futile to inaugurate a contest. Morgan, however, was frantic with rage. To be braved by a member of his crew, to have his plans balked by any man, and to be openly insulted in this manner! He did not hesitate a second. He rushed at Master Bartholomew Sawkins, and, brave man as that sailor was, he fairly quailed before the terrific incarnation of passionate fury his captain presented. The rest of the crew gave back before the furious onset of Sir Henry. "You dog!" he screamed, and before the other realized his intention he struck him a fearful blow in the face with his naked fist. Always a man of unusual strength, his rage had bestowed upon him a Herculean force. He seized the dazed man by the throat and waist belt ere he fell to the deck from the force of the blow, and lifting him up literally pitched him overboard. Before the crew had recovered from their astonishment and terror at this bold action, the buccaneer officers closed behind their captain, each covering the front ranks of the men with a pistol. At the same instant the other men, Ringrose's crew, came shoving through the crowd, snatching such arms as they could in the passage, although most of them had to be satisfied with belaying pins. "We're with you, Captain Morgan," cried one of their number. "We've had no treasure, and it seems we're not to have a share in this either. We've been in the South Seas," continued the speaker, a man named L'Ollonois, noted for his cruelty, rapacity, and success, "and the captain speaks truly. There are all that can delight brave men and a race of cowards to defend them. What's this treasure? It is great, but there are other things we want--wine and women!" The man who had been thrown overboard had shrieked for help as he fell. The splash he had made as he struck the water had been followed by another. A Spanish priest standing by the rail had seized a grating and thrown it to the man. Morgan took in the situation in a glance. "Who threw that grating?" he cried. "I, señor," composedly answered the priest, who understood English. Morgan instantly snatched a pistol from de Lussan's hand and shot the man dead. "I allow no one," he shouted, "to interfere between me and the discipline of my men! You speak well, L'Ollonois. And for you, hounds!" he roared, clubbing the smoking pistol and stepping toward the huddled, frightened men, "get back to your duties unless you wish instant death! Scuttle me, if I don't blow up the galleon unless you immediately obey! Bear a hand there! If you hesitate--Fire on them!" he cried to his officers, but the men in the front did not linger. They broke away from his presence so vehemently that they fell over one another in the gangways. [Illustration: Morgan instantly snatched a pistol from de Lussan's hand and shot the man dead.] "Don't fire!" they cried in terror. "We'll go back to duty." Morgan was completely master of the situation. "I am to be obeyed," he cried, "implicitly, without question, without hesitation!" "Ay, ay!" "We will, we will!" "That's well. Heave that carrion overboard," kicking the body of the priest. "Now we'll go back and pick up Sawkins," he continued. "Ready about, station for stays!" "Look you, Captain Morgan," cried Hornigold, pointing to leeward. "The squall! 'Twill be soon on us. We'd best reduce sail and run for it." "Nay," said Morgan, "I'll allow not even a storm to interfere with my plans. Flow the head sheets there! Hard down with the helm! Aft, here some of you, and man the quarter boat. I said I'd pick him up, and picked up he shall be, in spite of hell!" The ship, like all Spanish ships, was unhandy and a poor sailor. Morgan, however, got all out of her that mortal man could get. With nice seamanship he threw her up into the wind, hove her to, and dropped a boat overboard. Teach had volunteered for the perilous command of her and the best men on the ship were at the oars. Sawkins had managed to catch the grating and was clinging feebly when the boat swept down upon him. They dragged him aboard and then turned to the ship. The sinister squall was rushing down upon them from the black horizon with terrific velocity. The men bent their backs and strained at the oars as never before. It did not seem possible that they could beat the wind. The men on the ship beseeched Morgan to fill away and abandon their comrades. "No!" he cried. "I sent them there and I'll wait for them if I sink the ship!" Urged by young Teach to exertion superhuman, the boat actually shot under the quarter of the galleon before the squall broke. The tackles were hooked on and she was run up to the davits with all her crew aboard. "Up with the helm!" cried Morgan the instant the boat was alongside. "Swing the mainyard and get the canvas off her. Aloft, topmen, settle away the halliards! Clew down! Lively, now!" And as the ship slowly paid off and gathered away the white squall broke upon them. The sea was a-smother with mist and rain. The wind whipped through the shrouds and rigging, but everything held. Taking a great bone in her teeth the old _Almirante Recalde_ heeled far over to leeward and ripped through the water to the southward at such a pace as she had never made before. On the quarter-deck a drenched, shivering, and sobbing figure knelt at Morgan's feet and kissed his hand. "Wilt obey me in the future?" cried the captain to the repentant man. "'Fore God, I will, sir," answered Sawkins. "That's well," said the old buccaneer. "Take him forward, men, and let him have all the rum he wants to take off the chill of his wetting." "You stood by me that time, Sir Henry," cried young Teach, who had been told of Morgan's refusal to fill away, "and, by heaven, I'll stand by you in your need!" "Good. I'll remember that," answered Morgan, glad to have made at least one friend among all he commanded. "What's our course now, captain?" asked Hornigold as soon as the incident was over. "Sou'west by west-half-west," answered Morgan, who had taken an observation that noon, glancing in the binnacle as he spoke. "And that will fetch us where?" asked the old man, who was charged with the duty of the practical sailing of the ship. "To La Guayra and Venezuela." "Oho!" said the old boatswain, "St. Jago de Leon, Caracas, t'other side of the mountains will be our prize?" "Ay," answered Morgan. "'Tis a rich place and has been unpillaged for a hundred years." He turned on his heel and walked away. He vouchsafed no further information and there was no way for Master Ben Hornigold to learn that the object that drew Morgan to La Guayra and St. Jago was not plunder but the Pearl of Caracas. CHAPTER VIII HOW THEY STROVE TO CLUB-HAUL THE GALLEON AND FAILED TO SAVE HER ON THE COAST OF CARACAS Two days later they made a landfall off the terrific coast of Caracas, where the tree-clad mountains soar into the clouds abruptly from the level of the sea, where the surf beats without intermission even in the most peaceful weather upon the narrow strip of white sand which separates the blue waters of the Caribbean from the massive cliffs that tower above them. In the intervening time the South Sea buccaneers had picked up wonderfully. These men, allured by the hope of further plunder under a captain who had been so signally successful in the past and in the present, constituted a most formidable auxiliary to Morgan's original crew. Indeed, with the exception of the old hands they were the best of the lot. L'Ollonois had been admitted among the officers on a suitable footing, and there was little or no friction among the crews. They were getting hammered into shape, too, under Morgan's hard drilling, and it was a vastly more dangerous body of men than the drunken gang who had sailed away from Jamaica. Though not the equal of the former buccaneering bands who had performed in their nefarious careers unheard of prodigies of valor and courage, they were still not to be despised. Had it been known on the Spanish Main that such a body was afloat there would have been a thrill of terror throughout the South American continent, for there were many who could remember with the vividness of eye-witnesses and participants the career of crime and horror which the old buccaneers had inaugurated. Like a politic captain, Morgan had done his best to get the men whom he had subdued by his intrepid courage and consummate address into good humor. Rum and spirits were served liberally, work was light, in fact none except the necessary seaman's duties were required of the men, although an hour or two every day was employed in hard drill with swords, small arms, and great guns. In martial exercises the veterans were perfect, and they assiduously endeavored to impart their knowledge to the rest. It was Morgan's plan to run boldly into La Guayra under the Spanish flag. No one could possibly take the _Almirante Recalde_ for anything but a Spanish ship. There was no reason for suspecting the presence of an enemy, for Spain had none in these seas. If there were other ships in the roadstead, for the harbor of La Guayra was really nothing more than an open road, the buccaneer could easily dispose of them in their unprepared condition. Indeed, Morgan rather hoped that there might be others, for, after he captured them, he would have a greater force of guns to train upon the forts of the town, which he expected to take without much difficulty, and then be governed in his manoeuvres toward Caracas by circumstances as they arose. Two days after the capture of the galleon, then, with the wind fresh from the northeast, on a gray, threatening, stormy morning, she was running to the westward along the shore. A few hours at their present speed would bring them opposite La Guayra, whose location at the foot of the mighty La Silla of Caracas was even then discernible. Morgan could see that there were two or three other vessels opposite the town straining at their anchors in the heavy sea. Every preparation for action had been made in good time and the guns had been loaded. The sea lashings had been cast off, although the gun-tackles were carefully secured, for the wind was blowing fresher and the sea running heavier every hour. The men were armed to the teeth. There happened to be a goodly supply of arms on the Spanish ship in addition to those the buccaneers had brought with them, which were all distributed. Many a steel cap destined for some proud Spanish hidalgo's head now covered the cranium of some rude ruffian whom the former would have despised as beneath his feet. Everything was propitious for their enterprise but the weather. The veterans who were familiar with local conditions in the Caribbean studied the northeastern skies with gloomy dissatisfaction. The wind was blowing dead inshore, and as the struck bells denoted the passing hours, with each half-hourly period it grew appreciably stronger. If it continued to blow, or if, as it was almost certain, the strength of the wind increased, it would be impossible without jeopardizing the ship to come to anchor in the exposed roadstead. They would have to run for it. Nay, more, they would have to beat out to sea against it, for the coast-line beyond La Guayra turned rapidly to the northward. Morgan was a bold and skilful mariner, and he held his course parallel to the land much longer than was prudent. He was loath, indeed, to abandon even temporarily a design upon which he had determined, and as he had rapidly run down his southing in this brief cruise his determination had been quickened by the thought of his growing nearness to the Pearl of Caracas, until for the moment love--or what he called love--had almost made him forget the treasure in the ship beneath his feet. For the Pearl of Caracas was a woman. Mercedes de Lara, daughter of the Viceroy of Venezuela, on her way home from Spain where she had been at school, to join her father, the Count Alvaro de Lara in the Vice-regal Palace at St. Jago de Leon, sometimes called the City of Caracas, in the fair valley on the farther side of those towering tree-clad mountains--the Cordilleras of the shore--had touched at Jamaica. There she had been received with due honor, as became the daughter of so prominent a personage, by the Vice-Governor and his wretched wife. Morgan's heart had been inflamed by the dark, passionate beauty of the Spanish maiden. It was only by a severe restraint enjoined upon himself by his position that he had refrained from abusing the hospitality he extended, by seizing her in the old buccaneer fashion. The impression she had made upon him had been lasting, and when he found himself alone, an outlaw, all his dreams of the future centered about his woman. He would carry out the plans which he had outlined to his men, but the Pearl of Caracas, for so Donna Mercedes was called, must accompany him to the South Seas to be the Island Queen of that Buccaneer Empire of which he was to be the founder. That Donna Mercedes might object to this proposition; that she might love another man, might even be married by this time, counted for nothing in Morgan's plans. He had taken what he wanted by dint of his iron will and the strength of his right arm in the past and he should continue the process in the future. If the hand of man could not turn him, certainly the appeal of woman would avail nothing. Consequently he was most reluctant that morning, for his passion had increased with each o'er-run league of sea, to bear away from La Guayra, which was the port of entry for Caracas; but even his ardent spirit was at last convinced of the necessity. It was blowing a gale now and they were so near the shore, although some distance to the eastward of the town, that they could see the surf breaking with tremendous force upon the strip of sand. The officers and older men had observed the course of the ship with growing concern, but no one had ventured to remonstrate with Morgan until old Ben Hornigold as a privileged character finally summoned his courage and approached him. "Mark yon shore, Captain Morgan," he said, and when he made up his mind he spoke boldly. "The wind freshens. We're frightfully near. Should it come on to blow we could not save the ship. You know how unseamanly these Spanish hulks are." "Right you are, Hornigold," answered Morgan, yet frowning heavily. "Curse this wind! We must claw off, I suppose." "Ay, and at once," cried Hornigold. "See, the wind shifts already! It blows straight from the north now." "Hands by the braces there!" shouted Morgan, following with apprehension the outstretched finger of the old boatswain. "Ease down the helm. Brace up. Lively, lads!" In a few moments the great ship, her yards braced sharply up, was headed out to seaward on the starboard tack. The wind was now blowing a whole gale and the masts of the ship were bending like whips. "We'll have to get sail off her, I'm thinking, Hornigold," said Morgan. "Ay, ay, sir, and quick!" "Aloft!" yelled Morgan, "and take in the to'gallant s'l's. Close reef the tops'l's and double reef the courses then." The shaking shrouds were soon covered with masses of men, and as the ship was exceedingly well handled the canvas was promptly snugged down by the eager crew. Hornigold with young Teach to assist him went to the helm. Morgan gave his personal attention to the manoeuvering of the ship, and the other officers stationed themselves where they could best promote and direct the efforts of the seamen. Thus during the long morning they endeavored to claw off the lee shore. Morgan luffed the ship through the heavy squalls which rose to the violence of a hurricane, with consummate skill. Absolutely fearless, a master of his profession, he did all with that ship that mortal man could have done, yet their situation became more and more precarious. They had long since passed La Guayra. They had had a fleeting glimpse of the shipping in the harbor driving helplessly on shore as they dashed by under the gray clouds which had overspread the sea. That town was now hidden from them by a bend of the coast, and they found themselves in a curious bight of land, extending far into the ocean in front of them. The mountains here did not so nearly approach the water-line, and from the look of the place there appeared to be a shoal projecting some distance into the ocean from the point ahead. Some of the buccaneers who knew these waters confirmed the indications by asserting the existence of the shoal. In spite of all that Morgan could do it was quite evident that they could not weather the shoal on their present tack. There was not sea-room to wear and bear up on the other tack. The vessel, in fact, like all ships in those days and especially Spanish galleons, had a tendency to go to leeward like a barrel, and only Morgan's resourceful seamanship had saved them from the fatal embraces of the shore long since. The canvas she was carrying was more than she could legitimately bear in such a hurricane. If there had been sea-room Morgan would have stripped her to bare poles long since, but under the circumstances it was necessary for him to retain full control and direction of the ship; so, although he reduced sail to the lowest point, he still spread a little canvas. The men were filled with apprehension, not only for their lives but, such was their covetousness, for the treasure they had captured, for they stood about a hundred chances to one of losing the ship. Each squall that swept down upon them was harder than the one before. Each time the vessel almost went over on her beam ends, for Morgan would not luff until the last moment, since each time that he did so and lost way temporarily he found himself driven bodily nearer the land. The men would have mutinied had it not been patent to the most stupid mind that their only salvation lay in Morgan. Never had that despicable villain appeared to better advantage than when he stood on the weather quarter overlooking the ship, his long gray hair blown out in the wind, fighting against a foe whose strength was not to be measured by the mind of man, for his life and his ship. Hornigold and Teach, grasping the wheel assisted by two of the ablest seamen, were steering the ship with exquisite precision. Sweat poured from their brows at the violence of the labor required to control the massive helm. The men lay to windward on the deck, or grouped in clusters around the masts, or hung to the life lines which had been passed in every direction. At Morgan's side stood Velsers and Raveneau, prime seamen both. "What think ye, gentlemen?" asked Morgan, at last pointing to the point looming fearfully close ahead of them. "Can we weather it?" "Never!" answered de Lussan, shaking his head. "Well, it has been a short cruise and a merry one. Pity to lose our freightage and lives." "And you, Velsers?" "No," said the German, "it can't be done. Why did we ever come to this cursed coast?" "Avast that!" cried Morgan, thinking quickly. "Gentlemen, we'll club-haul the ship." "The water's too deep, my captain, to give holding ground to the anchor," urged Raveneau shrugging his shoulders. "It shoals yonder, I think," answered Morgan. "We'll hold on until the last minute and then try." "'Tis wasted labor," growled Velsers. "And certain death to hold on," added the Frenchman. "Have you anything else to propose, sirs?" asked Morgan sharply. "We can't tack ship against this wind and sea. There's no room to wear. What's to do?" The men made no answer. "Forward there!" cried the old buccaneer, and it was astonishing the force and power with which he made himself heard in spite of the roar of the wind and the smash of the sea. "Get the lee anchor off the bows there! L'Ollonois?" "Ay, ay." "Run a hawser from the anchor in aft here on the quarter. We'll club-haul the ship. See the cable clear for running." "Very good, sir," cried the Frenchman, summoning the hardiest hands and the most skilful to carry out his commander's orders. "Ready it is, sir," answered Hornigold, tightening his grasp on the spokes and nodding his head to his superior. "To the braces, lads! Obey orders sharply. It's our last chance." The water was roaring and smashing against the shore not a cable's length away. Usually in those latitudes it deepened tremendously a short distance from the low water mark, and there was a grave question whether or not the anchor, with the scope they could give it, would reach bottom. At any rate it must be tried, and tried now. Morgan had held on as long as he dared. Another minute and they would strike. "Down helm!" he shouted. "Flow the head sheets! Round in on the fore braces, there! Show that canvas aft!" The lateen sail on the crossjack yard had been furled, and Morgan, to force her head around, directed the after guard to spring into the mizzen-rigging with a bit of tarpaulin and by exposing it and their bodies to the wind to act as a sail in assisting her to head away from the shore. "Helm-a-lee! Hard-a-lee!" cried Hornigold, who with his men was grasping the spokes like a giant. Slowly the old galleon swung up into the wind, the waves beating upon her bows with a noise like crashes of thunder. A moment she hung. She could go no farther. "She's in irons! Swing that yard!" roared Morgan. "Cut and veer away forward!" There was a splash as the anchor dropped overboard. "Hands on that hawser!" he shouted. "Everybody walk away with it!" The whole crew apparently piled on to the anchor hawser in the hope of pulling the ship's stern around so that the wind would take her on the other bow. She was still hanging in the wind and driving straight on shore. "Haul away, for God's sake!" cried Morgan; but the hawser came in board through their hands with a readiness and ease that showed the anchor had not taken the ground. The drag of the cable to the anchor, however, and the still unspent impetus of the first swing, turned the galleon's stern slightly to windward. Her head began slowly to fall off. "She stays! She makes it!" cried the captain. "Meet her with the helm! Let go and haul! Cut away the hawser!" It had been a tremendous feat of seamanship and bade fair to be successful. It was yet touch and go, however, and the breakers were perilously near. They were writhing around her forefoot now, yet the wind was at last coming in over the other bow. "We're safe!" cried Morgan. "Flatten in forward! Haul aft the sheets and braces!" At that instant there was a terrific crash heard above the roar of the tempest. The foretopmast of the _Almirante Recalde_ carried sharply off at the hounds. Relieved of the pressure, she shot up into the wind once more and drove straight into the seething seas. They were lost with their treasure, their hopes, and their crimes! At the mercy of wind and wave! The men were as quick to see the danger as was Morgan. They came rushing aft baring their weapons, pouring curses and imprecations upon him. He stood with folded arms, a scornful smile on his old face, looking upon them, Carib watching and ready by his side. In another second, with a concussion which threw them all to the deck, the doomed ship struck heavily upon the sands. BOOK III WHICH TREATS OF THE TANGLED LOVE AFFAIRS OF THE PEARL OF CARACAS CHAPTER IX DISCLOSES THE HOPELESS PASSION BETWEEN DONNA MERCEDES DE LARA AND CAPTAIN DOMINIQUE ALVARADO, THE COMMANDANTE OF LA GUAYRA Captain Dominique Alvarado stood alone on the plaza of the ancient castle which for over a century had been the home of the governors of La Guayra. He was gazing listlessly down over the parapet which bordered the bare sheer precipice towering above the seaport town. There was nothing in his eyes, but a great deal in his heavy heart. [Illustration] Captain Alvarado, who filled the honorable station of commandante of the port, was a soldier of proven courage. The _protégé_ and favorite officer of his serene highness the Count Alvaro de Lara, Grandee of Spain and Viceroy of Venezuela, he had been honored with great responsibilities, which he had discharged to the satisfaction of his master. From a military point of view the office of Governor of La Guayra, which he then filled, was of sufficient importance to entitle him to high position and much consideration in the vice-regal court of Caracas. Of unknown parentage, Alvarado had been received into the family of the viceroy when an infant. He had been carefully reared, almost as he had been de Lara's son, and had been given abundant opportunity to distinguish himself. In the course of his short life he had managed to amass a modest fortune by honorable means. He was young and handsome; he had been instructed, for the viceroy had early shown partiality for him, in the best schools in the New World. His education had been ripened and polished by a sojourn of several years in Europe, not only at the court of Madrid but also at that of Versailles, where the Count de Lara had been sent as ambassador to the Grand Monarch during a period in which, for the sake of supervising the education of his only daughter, he had temporarily absented himself from his beloved Venezuela. That an unknown man should have been given such opportunities, should have been treated with so much consideration, was sufficient commentary on the unprecedented kindness of heart of the old Hidalgo who represented the failing power of His Most Catholic Majesty of Spain, Carlos II., the Bewitched, in the new world. Whatever his origin, therefore, he had been brought up as a Spanish soldier and gentleman, and the old count was openly proud of him. With assured station, ample means, increasing reputation; with youth, health, and personal good looks, the young Governor should have been a happy man. But it was easy to see from the heavy frown upon his sunny face--for he was that rare thing in Spain, a blue-eyed blond who at first sight might have been mistaken for an Englishman--that his soul was filled with melancholy. And well it might be, for Alvarado was the victim of a hopeless passion for Mercedes de Lara, the Viceroy's daughter, known from one end of the Caribbean to the other, from her beauty and her father's station, as the Pearl of Caracas. Nor was his present sadness due to unrequited passion, for he was confident that the adoration of his heart was met with an adequate response from its object. Indeed, it was no secret to him that Mercedes loved him with a devotion which matched his own. It was not that; but her father had announced his intention to betroth the girl to Don Felipe de Tobar y Bobadilla, a young gentleman of ancient lineage and vast wealth, who had been born in America and was the reputed head in the Western Hemisphere of the famous family whose name he bore. The consent of Donna Mercedes to the betrothal had not been asked. That was a detail which was not considered necessary by parents in the year of grace 1685, and especially by Spanish parents. That she should object to the engagement, or refuse to carry out her father's plan never crossed the Viceroy's imagination. That she might love another, was an idea to which he never gave a thought. It was the business of a well-brought-up Spanish maiden to be a passive instrument in the carrying out of her father's views, especially in things matrimonial, in which, indeed, love found little room for entrance. But Donna Mercedes loved Captain Alvarado and she cared nothing for Don Felipe. Not that Don Felipe was disagreeable to her, or to any one. He was a Spanish gentleman in every sense of the word, handsome, distinguished, proud, and gallant--but she did not, could not, love him. To complicate matters still further de Tobar was Captain Alvarado's cherished companion and most intimate friend. The progress of the love affair between Alvarado and Donna Mercedes had been subjective rather than objective. They had enjoyed some unusual opportunities for meeting on account of the station the former filled in the Viceroy's household and the place he held in his heart, yet the opportunities for extended freedom of intercourse between young men and women of the gentler class in those days, and especially among Spaniards of high rank, were extremely limited. The old count took care to see that his daughter was carefully watched and shielded; not because he suspected her of anything, for he did not, but because it was a habit of his people and his ancestry. The busy life that he led, the many employments which were thrust upon him, his military duties, had kept the days of the young soldier very full, and under the most favorable circumstances he would have had little time for love making. Fortunately much time is not required to develop a love affair, especially in New Spain and near to the equator. But though they had enjoyed brief opportunity for personal intercourse, the very impossibilities of free communication, the difficulties of meeting, had but added fuel and fire to their affection. Love had flamed into these two hearts with all the intensity of their tropic blood and tropic land. Alvarado's passion could feed for days and grow large upon the remembrance of the fragrance of her hand when he kissed it last in formal salutation. Mercedes' soul could enfold itself in the recollection of the too ardent pressure of his lips, the burning yet respectful glance he had shot at her, by others unperceived, when he said farewell. The memory of each sigh the tropic breeze had wafted to her ears as he walked in attendance upon her at some formal function of the court was as much to her as the flower which she had artfully dropped at his feet and which had withered over his heart ever since, was to him. The difficulties in the way of the exchange of those sweet nothings that lovers love to dwell upon and the impossibility of any hoped for end to their love making intensified their passion. Little or nothing had been spoken between them, but each knew the other loved. For the first moment the knowledge of that glorious fact had sufficed them--but afterwards they wanted more. Having tasted, they would fain quaff deeply. But they could see no way by which to manage the realization of their dreams. The situation was complicated in every possible way for Alvarado. Had he been a man of family like his friend, de Tobar, he would have gone boldly to the Viceroy and asked for the hand of his daughter, in which case he thought he would have met with no refusal; but, being ignorant of his birth, having not even a legal right to the name he bore, he knew that the proud old Hidalgo would rather see his daughter dead than wedded to him. Of all the ancient splendors of the Spanish people there was left them but one thing of which they could be proud--their ancient name. De Lara, who belonged to one of the noblest and most distinguished families of the Iberian Peninsula, would never consent to degrade his line by allying his only daughter to a nobody, however worthy in other respects the suitor might prove to be. Again, had Mercedes' father been any other than the life-long patron and friend to whom he literally owed everything that he possessed, such was the impetuosity of Alvarado's disposition that, at every hazard, he would have taken the girl by stealth or force from her father's protection, made her his wife, and sought an asylum in England or France, or wherever he could. So desperate was his state of mind, so overwhelming his love that he would have shrunk from nothing to win her. Yet just because the Viceroy had been a father to him, just because he had loved him, had been unexampled in his kindness and consideration to him, just because he reposed such absolutely unlimited confidence in him, the young man felt bound in honor by fetters that he could not break. And there was his friendship for de Tobar. There were many young gallants about the vice-regal court who, jealous of Alvarado's favor and envious of his merits, had not scrupled in the face of his unknown origin to sneer, to mock, or to slight--so far as it was safe to do either of these things to so brave and able a soldier. Amid these gilded youths de Tobar with noble magnanimity and affection had proved himself Alvarado's staunchest friend. A romantic attachment had sprung up between the two young men, and the first confidant of de Tobar's love affairs had been Alvarado himself. To betray his friend was almost as bad as to betray his patron. It was not to be thought of. Yet how could he, a man in whose blood--though it may have been ignoble for aught he knew--ran all the passions of his race with the fervor and fire of the best, a man who loved, as he did, the ground upon which the Señorita de Lara walked, stand by tamely and see her given to another, no matter who he might be? He would have given the fortune which he had amassed by honorable toil, the fame he had acquired by brilliant exploits, the power he enjoyed through the position he had achieved, the weight which he bore in the councils of New Spain, every prospect that life held dear to him to solve the dilemma and win the woman he loved for his wife. He passed hours in weary isolation on the plaza of the great castle overlooking the stretched-out town upon the narrow strand with the ceaseless waves beating ever upon the shore from the heavenly turquoise blue of the Caribbean wavering far into the distant horizon before him. He spent days and nights, thinking, dreaming, agonizing, while he wrestled vainly with the problem. Sometimes he strove to call to his mind those stern resolutions of duty which he had laid before himself at the beginning of his career, and to which he had steadfastly adhered in the pursuit of his fortunes; and he swore that he would be true to his ideals, that the trust reposed in him by the Viceroy should not be betrayed, that the friendship in which he was held by de Tobar should never be broken, that he would tear out of his heart the image of the woman he loved. And then, again, he knew that so long as that heart kept up its beating she would be there, and to rob him of her image meant to take away his life. If there had been a war, if some opportunity had been vouchsafed him to pour out, in battle against the enemy, some of the ardor that consumed him, the situation would have been ameliorated; but the times were those of profound peace. There was nothing to occupy his mind except the routine duties of the garrison. Spain, under the last poor, crazed, bewitched, degenerate descendant of the once formidable Hapsburgs, had reached the lowest depths of ignominy and decay. Alone, almost, under her flag Venezuela was well governed--from the Spanish standpoint, that is; from the native American point of view the rule of even the gentlest of Spaniards had made a hell on earth of the fairest countries of the new continent. Of all the cities and garrisons which were under the sway of the Viceroy de Lara, La Guayra was the best appointed and cared for. But it did not require a great deal of the time or attention from so skilled a commander as Alvarado to keep things in proper shape. Time, therefore, hung heavily on his hands. There were few women of rank in the town, which was simply the port of entry for St. Jago de Leon across the mountains which rose in tree-clad slopes diversified by bold precipices for ten thousand feet back of the palace, and from the commoner sort of women the young captain held himself proudly aloof, while his love safeguarded him from the allurement of the evil and the shameless who flaunted their iniquity in every seaport on the Caribbean. On the other side of the mountain range after a descent of several thousand feet to a beautiful verdant valley whose altitude tempered the tropic heat of the low latitude into a salubrious and delightful climate, lay the palace of the Viceroy and the city which surrounded it, St. Jago, or Santiago de Leon, commonly called the City of Caracas. Many a day had Alvarado turned backward from the white-walled, red-roofed town spread out at his feet, baking under the palms, seething in the fierce heat, as if striving to pierce with his gaze the great cordilleras, on the farther side of which in the cool white palace beneath the gigantic ceibas the queen of his heart made her home. He pictured her at all hours of the day; he dwelt upon her image, going over again in his mind each detail of her face and figure. The perfume of her hand was still fragrant upon his lips; the sound of her voice, the soft musical voice of Andalusia, still vibrated in his ear; her burning glance pierced him even in his dreams like a sword. He was mad, mad with love for her, crazed with hopeless passion. There seemed to be no way out of his misery but for him to pass his own sword through his heart, or to throw himself from the precipice, or to plunge into the hot, cruel blue of the enveloping Caribbean--the color of the sea changed in his eye with his temper, like a woman's mood. Yet he was young, he hoped in spite of himself. He prayed--for he was not old enough to have lost faith--and he planned. Besides, he was too brave a soldier to kill himself, and she was not yet married. She was not formally betrothed, even; although it was well known that her father looked favorably upon de Tobar's suit, no formal announcement had been made of it as yet. So in spite of his judgment he dreamed--the thoughts of youth and love are long, long thoughts, indeed. That morning the young captain, engrossed in his emotions, was not aware of the approach of a messenger, until the clank of the man's sword upon the stone flags of the plaza caused him to lift his head. He was a soldier, an officer of the bodyguard of the Viceroy, and he bore in his hand a letter sealed with the de Lara coat of arms. The messenger saluted and handed the packet to the captain. "Yesterday evening, His Excellency, the Viceroy, charged me to deliver this letter to you to-day." "Fadrique," called Alvarado, to a servitor, "a flagon of wine for the cavalier. By your leave, sir," he continued with formal politeness, opening the packet and reading the message: "TO THE CAPTAIN ALVARADO, COMMANDANTE OF LA GUAYRA. GREETING: As one faithful to the fortunes of our family we would crave your honorable presence at our palace in Santiago to-morrow evening. In view of your service and devotion, we have done you the honor to appoint you as one of the witnesses to the formal betrothal of our daughter, Donna Mercedes, to your friend, Don Felipe de Tobar. After that, as we have received appeals for help from the Orinoco country, we propose to lead His Most Catholic Majesty's Imperial troops thither in person to overawe the natives; and, reposing full trust in your fidelity and honor, we deign to commit the Donna Mercedes to your safe keeping in our city of La Guayra, until we return. Therefore make your preparations accordingly. Given under our hand and seal, DE LARA, _Viceroy_." It had come! The old man, as a last token of his respect, had nominated him as a witness to the contract which robbed him forever of hope and happiness. The young man went white before the keen eye of the messenger, who, in common with other officers of the Viceroy's court, suspected what was, indeed, concealed from no one save the father and lover. The world swam before his vision. The blue sea seemed to rise up and meet the green hills until he could not distinguish the one from the other. His heart almost stopped its beating, yet summoning his resolution he recovered himself by an effort that left him trembling, the sweat beading his forehead. "Are you in a state for a return journey at once, señor?" he asked of the young officer. "At your service, captain." "That's well. Say to His Excellency, the Viceroy, that I thank him for the honor he does me. I shall wait upon him to-morrow and obey his commands." CHAPTER X HOW DONNA MERCEDES TEMPTED HER LOVER AND HOW HE STROVE VALIANTLY TO RESIST HER APPEALS Alvarado was alone in the cabinet of the Viceroy, to which his rank and the favor in which His Excellency held him gave him access at all times. [Illustration] He had ridden all day over the rough road that winds over the mountains from La Guayra to Caracas. The storm which had rushed down the mountain-side all afternoon matched the tumult in his soul, and the sheets of rain blown upon him by the fierce wind had not cooled the fever of his agitation. The unusual tempest was one of the most terrific that had swept over the coast in years. He had marked as he rode a huge ship far to seaward, staggering along under shortened canvas and laboring tremendously in the heavy seas. But his thoughts were so centered upon the situation in which he found himself that he had not particularly noticed the vessel, although passing ships were infrequent sights off the port of La Guayra. Pale, haggard, and distraught from his mental struggle he had crossed the pass at the summit of the mountain and descended into the fertile valley now adrip with rain and looking almost cold under the gray sky, and had presented himself at the palace of the Viceroy. He had changed his apparel after his reception and his old sergeant had polished his breastplate until it fairly blazed with light, for though the occasion was one of peace he had felt that he could better sustain his part in the military uniform in which he had won his only title to consideration. He schooled himself to go through that part with the resolution of a Spanish gentleman. Although there was no evidence of gentle blood save such as was presented by his actions, he had always cherished the hope that could the secret of his birth be revealed he would not be found unfit for the honors that he had won and the ambitions that he cherished. Consequently his appearance in the brilliantly lighted hall of the palace among the gay courtiers resplendent in magnificent attire, blazing with jewels, threw a somber note over the proceedings. It was as a soldier he had won fame and the consideration of the Viceroy; in no other capacity, so far as any man knew, had he the right to enter that assemblage of the rich and well born. It was as a soldier he would perform that hardest of all duties which had ever been laid upon him by his friend and patron, the Governor. Pale, stern, composed, he stood an iron figure of repression. So severe was the constraint that he put upon himself that he had given no sign of his emotion, even at the near approach of Donna Mercedes, and the hand which signed his name beneath her father's as the principal witness was as steady as if it held merely the sword in some deadly combat. He endured passively the affectionate greetings of the happy de Tobar, who was intoxicated at the assurance afforded by the betrothal of the coming realization of all his hopes. He sustained with firmness the confidence of the Viceroy and the admissions de Lara made to him in private, of his pleasure in the suitable and fortunate marriage which was there arranged. He even bore without breaking one long, piteous appeal which had been shot at him from the black eyes of the unhappy Mercedes. To her he seemed preternaturally cold and indifferent. He was so strong, so brave, so successful. She had counted upon some interposition from him, but the snow-capped Andes were no colder than he appeared, their granite sides no more rigid and unsympathetic. It was with a feeling almost of anger and resentment at last that she had signed the betrothal contract. But the restraint on the man was more than he could bear. The cumulative force of the reproach of the woman he loved, the confidence of the Viceroy, the rapturous happiness of his best friend, was not to be endured longer. Pleading indisposition, he early begged leave to withdraw from the festivities which succeeded the completion of the betrothal ceremony and the retirement of the ladies. At the suggestion of the Viceroy, who said he desired to consult with him later in the evening, he went into the deserted cabinet of the latter. The palace was built in the form of a quadrangle around an open patio. A balcony ran along the second story passing the Viceroy's cabinet, beyond which was his bedroom and beyond that the apartments of his daughter. The rain had ceased and the storm had spent itself. It was a calm and beautiful night, the moon shining with tropic splendor through the open window dispensed with the necessity of lights. There was no one in the cabinet when he entered, and he felt at last able to give way to his emotion; Mercedes though she was not married was now lost to him beyond recourse. After the women withdrew from the hall with Donna Mercedes there was no restraint put upon the young nobles, and from the other side of the patio came the sound of uproarious revelry and feasting--his friends and comrades with generous cheer felicitating the happy bridegroom that was to be. Alvarado was alone, undisturbed, forgotten, and likely to remain so. He put his head upon his hands and groaned in anguish. "Why should it not have been I?" he murmured. "Is he stronger, braver, a better soldier? Does he love her more? O Mother of God! Riches? Can I not acquire them? Fame? Have I not a large measure? Birth? Ah, that is it! My father! my mother! If I could only know! How she looked at me! What piteous appeal in her eyes! What reproach when I stood passive cased in iron, with a breaking heart. O my God! My God! Mercedes! Mercedes!" In his anguish he called the name aloud. So absorbed and preoccupied in his grief had he been that he was not aware of a figure softly moving along the balcony in the shadow. He did not hear a footfall coming through the open window that gave into the room. He did not realize that he had an auditor to his words, a witness to his grief, until a touch soft as a snowflake fell upon his fair head and a voice for which he languished whispered in his ear: "You called me; I am come." "Señorita Mercedes!" he cried, lifting his head and gazing upon her in startled surprise. "How came you here?" he added brusquely, catching her hands with a fierce grasp in the intensity of his emotion as he spoke. "Is this my greeting?" she answered, surprised in turn that he had not instantly swept her to his heart. She strove to draw herself away, and when he perceived her intent he opened his hands and allowed her arms to fall by her side. "I have been mistaken," she went on piteously, "I am not wanted." She turned away and stood full in the silver bar of the moonlight streaming through the casement. Her white face shone in the light against the dark background of the huge empty room--that face with its aureole of soft dark hair, the face of a saint, pale yet not passionless, of the heaven heavenly, yet with just enough of earthly feeling in her eyes to attest that she was a very woman after all. "Go not," he cried, catching her again and drawing her back. Gone were his resolutions, shattered was his determination, broken was his resistance. She was here before him, at all hazards he would detain her. They were alone together, almost for the first time in their lives. It was night, the balmy wind blew softly, the moonlight enveloped them. Such an opportunity would never come again. It was madness. It was fatal. No matter. She should not go now. "I heard you," she murmured, swaying toward him. "I heard--you seemed to be--suffering. I do not know why--something drew me on. You whispered--you were speaking--I--listened. I came nearer. Was your heart breaking, too? Despise me!" She put her face in her hands. It was a confession she made. A wave of shame swept over her. "Despise you? Ah, God help me, I love you!" And this time he gathered her in his arms, and drew her back into the deeper shadow. "And you were so cold," she whispered. "I looked at you. I begged you with all my soul before I signed. You did nothing, nothing! O Mother of God, is there no help?" "Dost love me?" "With all my soul," she answered. "Poor----" "Nay----" "Obscure----" "Nay----" "Lowly--perhaps ignobly born----" "Nay, love, these are mere words to me. Rich or poor, high or low, noble or ignoble, thou only hast my heart. It beats and throbs only for thee. I have thought upon thee, dreamed upon thee, loved thee. I can not marry Don Felipe. I, too, have the pride of the de Lara's. My father shall find it. I signed that contract under duress. You would do nothing. Oh, Alvarado, Alvarado, wilt thou stand by and let me be taken into the arms of another? But no, I shall die before that happens." "Donna Mercedes," cried the unhappy young man, "I love thee, I adore thee, I worship thee with all my heart and soul! Were it not a coward's act I would have plunged my dagger into my breast ere I witnessed that betrothal to-night." "Thou shouldst first have sheathed it in mine," she whispered. "But could'st find no better use for thy weapon than that?" "Would you have me kill Don Felipe?" "No, no, but defend me with it. There are hidden recesses in the mountains. Your soldiers worship you. Take me away, away into the undiscovered countries to the southward. A continent is before you. We will find a new Mexico, carve out a new Peru with your sword, though I want nothing but to be with you, alone with you, my soldier, my lover, my king!" "But your plighted word?" "'Tis nothing. My heart was plighted to you. That is enough. Let us go, we may never have the chance again," she urged, clinging to him. A fearful struggle was going on in Alvarado's breast. What she proposed was the very thing he would have attempted were the circumstances other than they were. But his patron, his friend, his military duty, his honor as a soldier--the sweat beaded his forehead again. He had made up his mind at the betrothal to give her up. He had abandoned hope; he had put aside possibilities, for he could see none. But here she was in his arms, a living, breathing, vital, passionate figure, her heart beating against his own, pleading with him to take her away. Here was love with all its witchery, with all its magic, with all its power, attacking the defenses of his heart; and the woman whom he adored as his very life, with all the passion in his being, was urging, imploring, begging him to take her away. He was weakening, wavering, and the woman who watched him realized it and added fuel to the flame. "The love I bear your father!" he gasped. "Should it bind where mine breaks? I am his daughter." "And Don Felipe is my personal friend." "And my betrothed, but I hesitate not." "My oath as a soldier----" "And mine as a woman." "Gratitude--duty----" "Oh, Alvarado, you love me not!" she cried. "These are the strongest. I have dreamed a dream. Lend me your dagger. There shall be no awakening. Without you I can not bear----" As she spoke she plucked the dagger from the belt of the young soldier, lifted the point gleaming in the moonlight and raised it to her heart. He caught it instantly. "No, no!" he cried. "Give back the weapon." The poniard fell from her hand. "Thou hast taken me, I thank thee," she murmured, thinking the battle won as he swept her once more in his arms. This time he bent his head to her upturned face and pressed kiss after kiss upon the trembling lips. It was the first time, and they abandoned themselves to their transports with all the fire of their long restrained passion. "And is this the honor of Captain Alvarado?" cried a stern voice as the Viceroy entered the room. "My officer in whom I trusted? Death and fury! Donna Mercedes, what do you here?" "The fault is mine," said Alvarado, stepping between the woman he loved and her infuriated father. "I found Donna Mercedes in the cabinet when I came in. She strove to fly. I detained her--by force. I poured into her ear a tale of my guilty passion. Mine is the fault. She repulsed me. She drove me off." "The dagger at your feet?" "She snatched it from me and swore to bury it in her heart unless I left her. I alone am guilty." He lied instantly and nobly to save the woman's honor. "Thou villain, thou false friend!" shouted the Viceroy, whipping out his sword. He was beside himself with fury, but there was a characteristic touch of magnanimity about his next action; so handsome, so splendid, so noble, in spite of his degrading confession, did the young man look, that he gave him a chance. "Draw your sword, Captain Alvarado, for as I live I shall run you through!" Alvarado's hand went to his belt, he unclasped it and threw it aside. "There lies my sword. I am dishonored," he cried. "Strike, and end it all." "Not so, for Christ's sake!" screamed Mercedes, who had heard as if in a daze. "He hath not told the truth. He hath lied for me. I alone am guilty. I heard him praying here in the still night and I came in, not he. I threw myself into his arms. I begged him to take me away. He spoke of his love and friendship for you, for Don Felipe, his honor, his duty. I did indeed seize the dagger, but because though he loved me he would still be true. On my head be the shame. Honor this gentleman, my father, as I--love him." She flung herself at her father's feet and caught his hand. "I love him," she sobbed, "I love him. With all the power, all the intensity, all the pride of the greatest of the de Laras I love him." "Is this true, Captain Alvarado?" "Would God she had not said so," answered the young man gloomily. "Is it true?" "I can not deny it, my lord, and yet I am the guilty one. I was on the point of yielding. Had you not come in we should have gone away." "Yet you had refused?" "I--I--hesitated." "Refused my daughter! My God!" whispered the old man. "And you, shameless girl, you forced yourself upon him? Threw yourself into his arms?" "Yes. I loved him. Did'st never love in thine own day, my father? Did'st never feel that life itself were as nothing compared to what beats and throbs here?" "But Don Felipe?" "He is a gallant gentleman. I love him not. Oh, sir, for God's sake----" "Press your daughter no further, Don Alvaro, she is beside herself," gasped out Alvarado hoarsely. "'Tis all my fault. I loved her so deeply that she caught the feeling in her own heart. When I am gone she will forget me. You have raised me from obscurity, you have loaded me with honor, you have given me every opportunity--I will be true. I will be faithful to you. 'Twill be death, but I hope it may come quickly. Misjudge me not, sweet lady. Happiness smiles not upon my passion, sadness marks me for her own. I pray God 'twill be but for a little space. Give me some work to do that I may kill sorrow by losing my life, my lord. And thou, Donna Mercedes, forget me and be happy with Don Felipe." "Never, never!" cried the girl. She rose to her feet and came nearer to him. Her father stood by as if stunned. She laid her arms around Alvarado's neck. She looked into her lover's eyes. "You love me and I love you. What matters anything else?" "Oh, my lord, my lord!" cried Alvarado, staring at the Viceroy, "kill me, I pray, and end it all!" "Thou must first kill me," cried Mercedes, extending her arms across her lover's breast. "Donna Mercedes," said her father, "thou hast put such shame upon the name and fame of de Lara as it hath never borne in five hundred years. Thou hast been betrothed to an honorable gentleman. It is my will that the compact be carried out." "O my God! my God!" cried the unhappy girl, sinking into a chair. "Wilt Thou permit such things to be?" "And, Alvarado," went on the old man, not heeding his daughter's piteous prayer. "I know not thy parentage nor to what station thou wert born, but I have marked you from that day when, after Panama, they brought you a baby into my house. I have watched you with pride and joy. Whatever responsibility I have placed before you, you have met it. Whatever demand that hard circumstances have made upon you, you have overcome it. For every test there counts a victory. You have done the State and me great service, none greater than to-night. With such a temptation before thee, that few men that I have come in contact with in my long life could have resisted, you have thrown it aside. You and your honor have been tried and not found wanting. Whatever you may have been I know you now to be the finest thing on God's earth, a Spanish gentleman! Nay, with such evidence of your character I could, were it possible, have set aside the claims of birth and station----" "Oh, my father, my father!" interrupted the girl joyously. "And have given you Donna Mercedes to wife." "Your Excellency----" "But 'tis too late. The betrothal has been made; the contract signed; my word is passed. In solemn attestation before our Holy Church I have promised to give my daughter to Don Felipe de Tobar. Nothing can be urged against the match----" "But love," interjected Mercedes; "that is wanting." "It seems so," returned the Viceroy. "And yet, where duty and honor demand, love is nothing. Donna Mercedes, thou hast broken my heart. That a Spanish gentlewoman should have shown herself so bold! I could punish thee, but thou art mine all. I am an old man. Perhaps there is some excuse in love. I will say no more. I will e'en forgive thee, but I must have your words, both of you, that there shall be no more of this; that no other word of affection for the other shall pass either lip, forever, and that you will be forever silent about the events of this night." "Speak thou first, Captain Alvarado," said the girl. "You have loved me," cried the young man, turning toward Donna Mercedes, "and you have trusted me," bowing to the old man. "Here are two appeals. God help me, I can not hesitate. Thou shalt have my word. Would this were the last from my lips." "And he could promise; he could say it!" wailed the broken-hearted woman. "O my father, he loves me not! I have been blind! I promise thee, on the honor of a de Lara! I have leaned upon a broken reed." "Never," cried the old man, "hath he loved thee so truly and so grandly as at this moment." "It may be, it may be," sobbed the girl, reeling as she spoke. "Take me away. 'Tis more than I can bear." Then she sank prostrate, senseless between the two men who loved her. CHAPTER XI WHEREIN CAPTAIN ALVARADO PLEDGES HIS WORD TO THE VICEROY OF VENEZUELA, THE COUNT ALVARO DE LARA, AND TO DON FELIPE DE TOBAR, HIS FRIEND "We must have assistance," cried the Viceroy in dismay. "Alvarado, do you go and summon----" "Into the women's apartments, my lord?" "Nay, I will go. Watch you here. I trust you, you see," answered the old man, promptly running through the window and out on the balcony toward the apartments of his daughter. He went quickly but making no noise, for he did not wish the events of the evening to become public. Left to himself, Alvarado, resisting the temptation to take the prostrate form of his love in his arms and cover her cold face with kisses, knelt down by her side and began chafing her hands. He thought it no breach of propriety to murmur her name. Indeed he could not keep the words from his lips. Almost instantly the Viceroy departed there was a commotion in the outer hall. There was a knock on the door, repeated once and again, and before Alvarado could determine upon a course of action, Don Felipe burst into the room followed by Señora Agapida, the duenna of Donna Mercedes. "Your Excellency----" cried the old woman in agitation, "I missed the Señorita. I have searched----" "But who is this?" interrupted de Tobar, stepping over to where Alvarado still knelt by the prostrate girl. "'Tis not the Viceroy!" He laid his hand on the other man's shoulder and recoiled in surprise. "Dominique!" he exclaimed. "What do you here and who----" "Mother of God!" shrieked the duenna. "There lies the Donna Mercedes!" "She is hurt?" asked Felipe, for the moment his surprise at the presence of Alvarado lost in his anxiety for his betrothal. "I know not," answered the distracted old woman. "She lives," said Alvarado, rising to his feet and facing his friend. "She hath but fainted." "Water!" said Señora Agapida. Both men started instantly to hand her the carafe that stood on a table near by. Don Felipe was nearer and got it first. Señora Agapida loosened the dress of the young woman and sprinkled her face and hands with the water, laying her head back upon the floor as she did so and in a moment the girl opened her eyes. In the darkness of the room, for no lamp had as yet been lighted, she had not recognized in her bewilderment who was bending over her, for Alvarado had forced himself to draw back, yielding his place to de Tobar as if by right. "Alvarado!" she murmured. "She lives," said Don Felipe, with relief and jealousy mingled in his voice, and then he turned and faced the other. "And now, Señor Alvarado, perhaps you will be able to explain how you came to be here alone, at this hour of night, with my betrothed, and why she calls thy name! By St. Jago, sir, have you dared to offer violence to this lady?" His hand went to his sword. To draw it was the work of a moment. He menaced the young soldier with the point. "I could kill you as you stand there!" he cried in growing rage. "But the memory of our ancient friendship stays my hand. You shall have a chance. Where is your weapon!" "Strike, if it please you. I want nothing but death," answered Alvarado, making no effort whatever to defend himself. "Hast deserved it at my hands, then?" exclaimed the now infuriated de Tobar. "Stay!" interrupted the Viceroy re-entering the room. "What means this assault upon my captain? Donna Mercedes?" "She revives," said the duenna. "Is it thou, Señora?" said the Viceroy. "I sought thee unavailingly." "Your Highness," said the old woman, "I missed the señorita and found her here." "And how came you unbidden into my private cabinet, Don Felipe?" "Your Excellency, Señora Agapida found me in the corridor. She was distraught over her lady's absence. We knocked. There was no answer. We entered. I crave your pardon, but it was well I came, for I found my betrothed and my best friend alone, together, here," he pointed gloomily. "A Spanish gentleman alone at this hour of the night with----" "Silence!" thundered the Viceroy. "Would'st asperse my daughter's name? Darest thou--By heaven, you hold a weapon in your hand. I am old but--Guard thyself!" he called, whipping out his sword with astonishing agility. "I can not fight with you," said de Tobar lowering his point, "but for God's sake, explain!" "The Donna Mercedes is as pure as heaven," asserted Alvarado. "Then why did you bid me strike and stand defenseless a moment since?" "Because I love her and she is yours." "Death!" shouted de Tobar. "Take up thy sword!" "Stay," broke in the old Viceroy quickly, "keep silent, Alvarado, let me tell it all. I am her father. I would consult with the captain upon the journey of the morrow and other matters of state. With us here was my daughter. Is there aught to provoke thy jealousy or rage in this? Overcome by--er--the events of the day she fainted. One of us had to go for aid. 'Twas not meet that the young man should go to the women's apartments, I left them together." "Alone?" queried de Tobar. "Ay, alone. One was my daughter, a de Lara, and she was senseless. The other was almost my son, I knew him. He had proved himself. I could trust him." "Your Excellency, I thank you," cried Alvarado, seizing the hand of the old nobleman and carrying it to his lips. "You said you loved her," said de Tobar turning to Alvarado. "And so I do," answered Alvarado, "but who could help it? It is an infection I have caught from my friend." "Have you spoken words of love to her? Have you pleaded with her? Did you meet here by appoint?" "Don Felipe," cried Donna Mercedes, who had kept silent at first hardly comprehending and then holding her breath at the dénouement. "Hear me. Captain Alvarado's manner to me has been coldness itself. Nay, he scarcely manifested the emotion of a friend." She spoke with a bitterness and resentment painfully apparent to Alvarado, but which in his bewilderment Don Felipe did not discover. "I swear to you, señor," she went on cunningly, "until this hour I never heard him say those words, 'I love you.' But this scene is too much for me, I can not bear it. Help me hence. Nay, neither of you gentlemen. With Señora Agapida's aid I can manage. Farewell. When you wish to claim me, Don Felipe, the betrothal shall be carried out and I shall be yours. Good-night." De Tobar sprang after her and caught her hand, raising it respectfully to his lips. "Now, señor," he cried turning back, "we can discuss this question unhindered by the presence of the lady. You said you loved her. How dare you, a man of no birth, whose very name is an assumption, lift your eyes so high?" "This from you, my friend," cried Alvarado, turning whiter than ever at this insult. "Sir," interposed the voice of the Viceroy, "restrain yourself. 'Tis true we know not the birth or name of this young man whom I have honored with my confidence, upon whom you have bestowed your friendship. Perchance it may be nobler than thine, or mine, perchance not so, but he hath ever shown himself--and I have watched him from his youth--a gentleman, a Spanish gentleman whom all might emulate. You wrong him deeply----" "But he loved her." "What of that?" answered the Viceroy. "Ay," cried Alvarado. "I do love her, and that I make no secret of it from you proves the sincerity of my soul. Who could help loving her, and much less a man in my position, for, in so far as was proper in a maiden, she has been kind to me since I was a boy. I cherish no hopes, no dreams, no ambitions. I locked my passion within my breast and determined to keep it there though it killed me. To-night, with her helpless at my feet, thrown on my pity, it was wrung from me; but I swear to you by my knightly honor, by that friendship that hath subsisted between us of old, that from this hour those words shall never pass my lips again; that from this hour I shall be as silent as before. Oh, trust me! I am sadly torn. Thou hast all, I nothing! If thou canst not trust me--I bade you strike before, strike now and end it all. What supports life when love is denied? Friendship and duty. If these be taken from me, I am poor indeed, and I'd liefer die than live in shame. Your Excellency, bid him strike." "Thy life is not thine," answered the older man, "it belongs to Spain. We have fallen on evil times and thy country needs thine arm. Thou hast said aright. Señor de Tobar," he cried, "he is thy friend. Take him back to thy affection. I am an old man and a father, but were I young and one so beautiful crossed my path as Donna Mercedes--by Our Lady he hath excuse for anything! He speaks the truth, though it be to his own hurt. Canst stand unmoved, señor, in thy happiness before such misery as that?" "Dominique, forgive me!" cried de Tobar, "I was wrong. I am ashamed. Thou couldst not help it. I forgive thee. I love thee still." He made as if to embrace his friend, but Alvarado held him off. "Wilt trust me fully, absolutely, entirely?" "With all my life," answered de Tobar. "Thou shalt be tried," said the Viceroy. "We march toward the Orinoco in three days. I had proposed to establish Donna Mercedes at La Guayra under care of Alvarado." "Not now, your Excellency," cried the young man. "Nay, I shall, provided de Tobar is willing." "A test, a test!" answered that young man. "Gladly do I welcome it. As thou lovest me, and as I love thee, guard thou my betrothed." "Your Excellency, take me with you to the Orinoco, and let Don Felipe stay at home with Donna Mercedes in La Guayra." "I am no experienced soldier to command a town," protested de Tobar. "Nay," said the Viceroy, "it shall be as we have said. Wilt take the charge?" "Ay, and defend it with all my soul!" answered Alvarado firmly. "Señor Alvarado and Don Felipe, you have shown yourselves true Spanish gentlemen this night, hidalgos of whom Spain may well be proud," cried the Viceroy in pleased and proud content. "To you, de Tobar, I shall give my daughter with assurance and pride, and were there another to bear my name I could wish no better husband for her than you, my poor friend. Now, the hour is late, I have much to say to Alvarado. Don Felipe, you will pardon me? Good-night." "Good-night, your Excellency," promptly returned de Tobar. "I shall see you in the morning, Dominique, ere you set forth for La Guayra. I love thee and trust thee, my friend." CHAPTER XII SHOWS HOW DONNA MERCEDES CHOSE DEATH RATHER THAN GIVE UP CAPTAIN ALVARADO, AND WHAT BEFEL THEM ON THE ROAD OVER THE MOUNTAINS They set forth early in the morning. There was a cool freshness in the air from the storm of the day before and if they wished to avoid the necessity of traveling in the heat of the day early departure was necessary. Although the season was summer in a tropic land not far from the equator, the altitude of Caracas lowered the ordinary temperature to an agreeable degree, but after they crossed the pass of La Veta and began the descent toward La Guayra they would be within the confines of one of the hottest localities on the face of the globe. [Illustration] Early as it was, the Viceroy and his officers, including, of course, de Tobar, were assembled in the patio to bid the travelers godspeed. While de Lara gave a few parting directions to Alvarado, Don Felipe took advantage of the opportunity and of his position as the publicly affianced of Donna Mercedes to address her a few words in farewell, which she received with listless indifference that did not bode well for the future happiness of either of them. The final preparations were soon over. Don Felipe lifted Donna Mercedes to the saddle of her Spanish jennet; some of the other gentlemen assisted the Señora Agapida to the back of the sure-footed mule which she had elected as her mount; Alvarado saluted and sprang to the back of his mettlesome barb, and, followed by a half-dozen troopers who constituted the escort, the rear being brought up by servants with pack mules carrying the personal baggage of the two ladies, the little cavalcade moved off, the gentlemen in the Viceroy's suite standing bareheaded in the doorway as they disappeared under the trees and began the ascent toward the pass. With the whispered assurance of his friend, "I trust you," still ringing in his ear, with the sound of the Viceroy's stern voice, "I know not what danger could befall my child in this peaceful time, but I have a premonition that something threatens, and I charge you to guard her welfare and happiness with your life," still fresh in his mind, Alvarado, whose white, haggard face showed that he had passed a sleepless night, rode at the head of the column. Some distance in front of him rode a trooper, for there were even then thieves, wandering bands of masterless men who levied bloody toll on travelers from the capitol whenever they got opportunity. Next to the captain came the sergeant of the little guard, then the two women, followed closely by two more of the soldiers, after that the little pack train, which he had ordered to close up and keep in touch after they left the city, and, last of all, the two remaining soldiers to bring up the rear. The soldiers, servants, and muleteers were in high spirits. There was little danger to be apprehended, for the party was too strong to fear attack from any of the brigand bodies, and the military order of march was taken more as a matter of habit than from any special need. The day was pleasant, the scenery, though familiar, was at the same time grand and beautiful, and they were happy--all, that is, except Donna Mercedes, the duenna, and Alvarado. The worthy Señora Agapida with womanly shrewdness more than suspected the true state of affairs. Indeed, Mercedes, who loved the old woman, who had been as a mother to her, her own mother having died when she was a mere child, had scarcely taken the trouble to conceal her misery, and the old woman's heart was wrung whenever she looked at the drooping figure at her side. She would fain have brought the flush of happiness to the face of the girl she loved, by throwing her into the arms of Alvarado; but, as a distant connection of the de Laras herself, the worthy dame had her own notions of pride, and her honor would not permit her to do anything for which the Viceroy could properly fault her. The ancient duenna was an indifferent horsewoman, too, and although she had the easiest and surest footed beast of the party she journeyed with many sighs and groans of dissatisfaction. She bravely made an effort at first to cheer up her charge, but soon perceived that the task was beyond her powers, so she rode along in a silence unbroken save by her frequent ejaculations. When Mercedes had met Alvarado early in the morning she had acknowledged his profound salutation with the curtest and coldest of nods. She was furiously and bitterly angry with him; for, between duty, honor, friendship, and her love, he had not chosen her. She knew that he loved her. She had known it a long time, and, if she had the slightest doubt, the sincerity with which he had spoken the night before, the fierce, passionate fervor of the kisses that he had pressed upon her lips, his utter abandonment to his passion, had more than satisfied her. Yet, when she had offered to throw everything to the winds--love, duty, obedience, if he would only take her away--he had hesitated. With her, a woman who had all Venezuela at her feet, held in his arms, he had repulsed her, refused her! He had heard the open confession of her overwhelming love for him, and he had resisted her! With the feel of her heart beating against his own, he had strained her to his breast and prated of honor and duty! She was mad with anger and disappointment. She loathed him; she hated him; she raged against him in her heart. Why had he not killed de Tobar where he stood, seized her in his arms, braved the anger of her father, and galloped away--anywhere out into the mysterious southland where they could be together? Well and good, she would marry Don Felipe. She would assume a happiness that she could not feel and kill him with the sight of it. He had disdained her; he should suffer, suffer in proportion to his love, such torments as he had made her suffer last night--shame, disappointment, indignation. She had not slept the entire night, either, thinking these things, yet it had not all been pain. How nobly he had lied to save her! He, to whom a lie was worse than death. He had tried to assume dishonor for her sake. He loved her; yes, there was no doubt of it. She closed her eyes with the thought and her whole being was filled with exquisite anguish. He loved her, he was made for her, yet when he might have taken her he refused. De Tobar was indeed a brave and gallant gentleman, but his qualities were as moonlight to the sunlight compared to those of Alvarado. In spite of herself, though the mere suggestion of it angered her, she found herself obliged to grant that there was something noble in that position he had assumed which so filled her with fury. It was not, with him, a question of loving duty and honor more than herself, but it was a question of doing duty and preserving honor, though the heart broke and the soul was rent in the effort. Because he had the strength to do these things, not to betray his friend, not to return ingratitude to her father, who had been a father to him too, not to be false to his military honor; because he had the strength to control himself, she felt dimly how strong his passion might be. In spite of her careful avoidance of his eyes, her cold demeanor, that morning, she had marked the haggard, pale face of the young soldier to whom she had given her heart, which showed that he, too, had suffered. She watched him as he rode, superb horseman that he was, at the head of the little cavalcade. Tall, straight, erect, graceful, she was glad that he rode in advance with his back to her, so that she might follow him with her eyes, her gaze unheeded by any but Señora Agapida, and for her she did not care. As he turned at intervals to survey his charges, to see that all were keeping closed up and in order, by furtive glances she could mark with exultation the pallor that had taken the place of the ruddy hue on the fair cheek of her lover. She could even note the black circles under the blue eyes beneath the sunny hair, so different from her own midnight crown. How this man loved her! She could see, and know, and feel. Great as was her own passion, it did not outweigh his feeling. A tempest was raging in his bosom. The girl who watched him could mark the progress of the storm in the deeps of his soul, for his face told the tale of it. And, indeed, his thoughts were bitter. What must she think of him? He had been a fool. Happiness had been his for the taking, and he had thrown it away. Why had he not brushed de Tobar out of his path, silenced the Viceroy--no, not by death, but by binding him fast, and then taken the woman he loved and who loved him, for she had proved it by her utter abandonment of herself to him? Those old soldiers who had served him for many years would have followed him wherever he led. The Viceroy's arm was long, but they could have found a haven where they could have been together. God had made them for each other and he had refused. He had thrust her aside. He had pushed the cup of happiness from his own lips with his own hand. Honor was a name, duty an abstraction, gratitude a folly. What must she think of him? There had been no reservation in her declaration of affection. For him she was willing to give up all, and though he had vowed and protested in his heart that there was nothing she could ask of him that he would not grant her, he had been able to do nothing after all. He wished it was all to do over again. Now it was too late. To the chains of duty, honor, gratitude, had been added that of his plighted word. Knowing his love, de Tobar, his friend, had trusted him. Knowing his daughter's love, the Viceroy had also trusted him. He was locked with fetters, bound and sealed, helpless. And yet the temptation grew with each hour. He had suspected, he had dreamed, he had hoped, that Mercedes loved him, now he was sure of it. Oh, what happiness might have been his! What was this mystery about his birth? He had been picked up a baby in a deserted village outside of Panama. He had been found by the young Count de Lara, who had led his troops to the succor of that doomed town, which, unfortunately, he had only reached after the buccaneers had departed. Search had been made for his parents but without success. The Viceroy finding none to claim the bright-faced baby, had given him a name and had caused him to be brought up in his own household. There was nothing in his apparel to distinguish him save the exquisite fineness and richness of the material. Thrown around his neck had been a curiously wrought silver crucifix on a silver chain, and that crucifix he had worn ever since. It lay upon his breast beneath his clothing now. It was the sole object which connected him with his past. Who had been his father, his mother? How had a baby so richly dressed come to be abandoned in a small obscure village outside the walls of Panama, which would have escaped the ravages of the buccaneers on account of its insignificance, had it not lain directly in their backward path. They had destroyed it out of mere wantonness. And there was another thought which often came to him and caused his cheeks to burn with horror. If, as his clothing had indicated, he had been the child of wealth, did not his obscure position indicate that he was at the same time the child of shame? Since he had reached man's estate he had thought of these things often and had prayed that in some way, at some time, the mystery might be solved, for the suspense was worse than any assurance, however dreadful. He had often thought with longing upon his father, his mother. This morning in the bitterness of his heart he cursed them for the situation in which he found himself. He despaired at last of ever finding out anything. What mattered it now? He might be of the proudest and most honorable lineage in New Spain, a Soto-Mayor, a Bobadilla, even a de Guzman. It would advantage him nothing since he had lost Mercedes. In spite of himself he groaned aloud, and the girl riding a little distance behind him heard the sound of anguish in his voice. Her heart, which had been yearning toward him with increasing force, was stirred within her bosom. "Ride thou here," she said suddenly to Señora Agapida, "I go forward to speak with Captain Alvarado." "But, señorita, thy father----" "Is it not permitted that I speak with the captain of the soldiery who escort me?" "Certainly, if I am by." "I do not choose to have it so," replied Mercedes, with all the haughtiness of her father. "Remain here. I will return presently." Brushing her aside with an imperious wave of her hand and a threatening glance before which the poor duenna quailed, for her charge had never shown such spirit before, Mercedes struck her Spanish jennet with the whip she carried, passed around the intervening soldier, who courteously gave way to her, and reined in her steed by Alvarado's horse. So close, indeed, was she to the captain that she almost touched him. It was good to see the light leap in his eyes, the flush come into his pale cheek as he became aware of her presence. "Donna Mercedes!" he cried in surprise. "Is anything wrong? Where is the Señora Agapida?" "Nothing is wrong. I left her there." "Shall I summon her?" "Art afraid to speak to me, to a woman, alone, sir captain?" "Nay, señorita, but 'tis unseemly----" "Wouldst thou lesson me in manners, master soldier?" cried the girl haughtily. "God forbid, lady, but thy father----" "He laid no injunction upon me that I should not speak to you, sir. Is that forbidden?" "Of course not, but----" "But what, sir? It is your own weakness you fear? You were strong enough last night. Have you, by chance--repented?" There was such a passionate eagerness in her voice, and such a leaping hope for an affirmative answer in the glance she bent upon him, that he could scarce sustain the shock of it. His whole soul had risen to meet hers, coming as she came. He trembled at her propinquity. The voice of the girl thrilled him as never before. The sergeant who followed them, out of respect for their confidences checked the pace of his troop horse somewhat and the two advanced some distance from him out of earshot. The unhappy duenna watched them with anxious eyes, but hesitated to attempt to join them. Indeed, the way was blocked for such an indifferent horsewoman as she by the adroit manoeuvres of the sergeant. He was devoted to his young commander and he had surmised the state of affairs also. He would have had no scruples whatever in facilitating a meeting, even an elopement. The two lovers, therefore, could speak unobserved, or at least unheard by any stranger. "Lady," said Alvarado at last, "I am indeed afraid. You make the strong, weak. Your beauty--forgive me--masters me. For God's sake, for Christ, His Mother, tempt me not! I can stand no more--" he burst forth with vehemence. "What troubles thee, Alvarado?" she said softly. "Thou--and my plighted word." "You chose honor and duty last night when you might have had me. Art still in the same mind?" "Señorita, this subject is forbidden." "Stop!" cried the girl, "I absolve you from all injunctions of silence. I, too, am a de Lara, and in my father's absence the head of the house. The duty thou hast sworn to him thou owest me. Art still in the same mind as last night, I say?" "Last night I was a fool!" "And this morning?" "I am a slave." "A slave to what? To whom?" "Donna Mercedes," he cried, turning an imploring glance upon her, "press me no further. Indeed, the burden is greater than I can bear." "A slave to whom?" she went on insistently, seeing an advantage and pressing it hard. She was determined that she would have an answer. No conviction of duty or feeling of filial regard was strong enough to overwhelm love in this woman's heart. As she spoke she flashed upon him her most brilliant glance and by a deft movement of her bridle hand swerved the jennet in closer to his barb. She laid her hand upon his strong arm and bent her head close toward him. They were far from the others now and the turns of the winding road concealed them. "A slave to whom? Perhaps to--me?" she whispered. "Have mercy on me!" he cried. "To you? Yes. But honor, duty----" "Again those hateful words!" she interrupted, her dark face flushing with anger. "Were I a man, loved I a woman who loved me as I--as I--as one you know, I would have seized her in spite of all the world! Once she had fled to the shelter of my arms, while life beat in my heart none should tear her thence." "Thy father----" "He thinks not of my happiness." "Say not so, Donna Mercedes." "'Tis true. It is a matter of convenient arrangement. Two ancient names, two great fortunes cry aloud for union and they drown the voice of the heart. I am bestowed like a chattel." "Don Felipe----" "Is an honorable gentleman, a brave one. He needs no defense at my hands. That much, at least, my father did. There is no objection to my suitor save that I do not love him." "In time--in time you may," gasped Alvarado. "Dost thou look within thine own heart and see a fancy so evanescent that thou speakest thus to me?" "Nay, not so." "I believe thee, and were a thousand years to roll over my head thine image would still be found here." She laid her tiny gloved hand upon her breast as she spoke in a low voice, and this time she looked away from him. He would have given heaven and earth to have caught her yielding figure in his arms. She drooped in the saddle beside him in a pose which was a confession of womanly weakness and she swayed toward him as if the heart in her body cried out to that which beat in his own breast. "Mercedes! Mercedes!" he said, "you torture me beyond endurance! Go back to your duenna, to Señora Agapida, I beg of you! I can stand no more! I did promise and vow in my heart--my honor--my duty----" "Ay, with men it is different," said the girl, and the sound of a sob in her voice cut him to the heart, "and these things are above love, above everything. I do not--I can not understand. I can not comprehend. You have rejected me--I have offered myself to you a second time--after the refusal of last night. Where is my Spanish pride? Where is my maidenly modesty? That reserve that should be the better part of woman is gone. I know not honor--duty--I only know that though you reject me, I am yours. I, too, am a slave. I love you. Nay, I can not marry Don Felipe de Tobar. 'Twere to make a sacrilege of a sacrament." [Illustration: Alvarado threw his right arm around her, and with a force superhuman dragged her from the saddle.] "Thy father----" "I have done my best to obey him. I can no more." "What wilt thou do?" "This!" cried the girl desperately. The road at the point they had arrived wound sharply around the spur of the mountain which rose above them thousands of feet on one side and fell abruptly away in a terrific precipice upon the other. As she spoke she struck her horse again with the whip. At the same time by a violent wrench on the bridle rein she turned him swiftly toward the open cliff. Quick as she had been, however, Alvarado's own movement was quicker. He struck spur into his powerful barb and with a single bound was by her side, in the very nick of time. Her horse's forefeet were slipping among the loose stones on the edge. In another second they would both be over. Alvarado threw his right arm around her and with a force superhuman dragged her from the saddle, at the same time forcing his own horse violently backward with his bridle hand. His instant promptness had saved her, for the frightened horse she rode, unable to control himself, plunged down the cliff and was crushed to death a thousand feet below. CHAPTER XIII IN WHICH CAPTAIN ALVARADO IS FORSWORN AND WITH DONNA MERCEDES IN HIS ARMS BREAKS HIS PLIGHTED WORD "My God!" cried the young soldier hoarsely, straining her to his breast, while endeavoring to calm his nervous and excited horse. "What would you have done?" [Illustration] "Why didn't you let me go?" she asked, struggling feebly in his arms. "It would all have been over then." "I could not, I love you." The words were wrung from him in spite of himself by her deadly peril, by her desperate design which he had only frustrated by superhuman quickness and strength. He was pale, shaking, trembling, unnerved, for her. He scarce knew what he said or did, so little command had he over himself. As he spoke those words "I love you," so blissful for her to hear, she slipped her arm around his neck. It was not in mortal man to resist under such circumstances. He forgot everything--honor, duty, his word, everything he threw to the winds. Before the passion which sought death when denied him his own powers of resistance vanished. He strained her to his breast and bent his head to kiss her. Again and again he drank at the upturned fountain of affection, her lips. The shock had been too much for him. Greater for him than for her. He had seen her upon the verge of eternity. She thought nothing of that in her present joy. She only realized that she was in his arms again, that he had kissed her, and between the kisses he poured out words that were even greater caresses. The others were far behind. They were alone upon the mountain-side with the rocks behind and the great sapphire sea of the Caribbean before them. He held her close to his breast and they forgot everything but love as they gently pricked along the road. It was near noon now, and as the road a furlong farther debouched into an open plateau shaded by trees and watered by a running brook which purled down the mountain-side from some inaccessible cloud-swept height it was a fitting place to make camp, where the whole party, tired by a long morning's travel, could repose themselves until the breeze of afternoon tempered the heat of the day. Here he dismounted, lifted her from horse, and they stood together, side by side. "You have saved me," she whispered, "you have drawn me back from the death that I sought. God has given me to you. We shall never be parted." "I am a false friend, an ungrateful servitor, a forsworn man, a perjured soldier!" he groaned, passing his hand over his pale brow as if to brush away the idea consequent upon his words. "But thou hast my love," she whispered tenderly, swaying toward him again. "Yes--yes. Would that it could crown something else than my dishonor." "Say not so." She kissed him again, fain to dispel the shadow that darkened his face. "I had been faithful," he went on, as if in justification, "had I not seen thee on the brink of that cliff, and then thou wert in my arms--I was lost----" "And I was found. I leaped to death. I shut my eyes as I drove the horse toward the cliff, and I awakened to find myself in your arms--in heaven! Let nothing take me hence." "It can not be," he said, "I must go to the Viceroy when he returns from the Orinoco war, and tell him that I have betrayed him." "I will tell him," she answered, "or wilt thou tell him what I tell thee?" she went on. "Surely." "Then say to him that I sought death rather than be given to Don Felipe or to any one else. Tell him you saved me on the very brink of the cliff, and that never soldier made a better fight for field or flag than thou didst make for thy honor and duty, but that I broke thee down. I had the power, and I used it. The story is as old as Eden--the woman tempted--" "I should have been stronger--I should not have weakened. But I shall fight no more--it is all over." "Ah, thou canst not," she whispered, nestling closer to him. "And tell my father that should harm come to thee, if, in their anger, he or de Tobar lay hand upon thee, it will not advantage their plans, for I swear, if there be no other way, I will starve myself to death to follow thee!" "I can not shelter myself behind a woman." "Then I will tell them both myself," she cried. "You shall know, they shall know, how a Spanish woman can love." "And thou shalt know, too," answered Alvarado firmly, "that though I break my heart, I, an unknown, can expatiate his guilt with all the pride of most ancient lineage and birth highest of them all." It was a brave speech, but he did not release his hold upon Mercedes and in spite of his words when, confident that whatever he might say, however he might struggle, he was hers at last, she smiled up at him again, he kissed her. "When go you to my father, Señor Alvarado?" she asked. "When he returns from the Orinoco." "And that will not be until----" "Perhaps a month." "Wilt love me until then?" "I shall love thee forever." "Nay, but wilt thou tell me so, with every day, every week, every hour, every moment, with kisses like to these?" "Oh, tempt me not!" he whispered; but he returned again and again her caresses. "Ah, my Alvarado, if you have once fallen, what then? Is not one kiss as bad as a thousand?" "Be it so; we will be happy until that time." "One month, one month of heaven, my love, after that let come what may," she answered, her cheeks and eyes aflame, her heart throbbing with exquisite pain in her breast. They would enjoy the day, the future could take care of itself. "Some one approaches!" he said at last, and at the same moment the rest of the party came around the bend of the road. The poor duenna was consumed with anxiety and remorse. "Bernardo," said Alvarado to the sergeant, "we will take our siesta here. Unsaddle the horses and prepare the noon-day meal under the trees. Send one of the troopers ahead to bid Fadrique stop on the road until we rejoin him, keeping good guard. Señora Agapida, you must be tired from the long ride. Let me assist you to dismount." "The Señorita Mercedes!" she asked, as he lifted her to the ground. "Where is her horse?" "He slipped and fell," answered the girl promptly. "Fell? Madre de Dios!" "Yes, over the cliff. Captain Alvarado lifted me from the saddle just in time." "I shall make a novena of devotion to St. Jago for thy preservation, sweet Mercedes," cried the duenna, "and you, young sir, must have a strong arm----" "It is ever at your service," answered Alvarado gravely, bowing before her. The old woman's heart went out to the gallant young man, so handsome, so brave, so strong, so distinguished looking. "Why," she mused under her breath, "could he not have been the one?" By this time the little place was filled with soldiers, attendants, and muleteers. Some kindled fires, others unpacked hampers loaded with provisions, others prepared a place where the party might rest, and as, to restore order out of this confusion, Alvarado turned hither and thither he was followed in all his movements by the lovely eyes of the woman who had broken him, and who had won him. During the interval of repose the young man allowed his party the two lovers were constantly together. Alvarado had made a faint effort to go apart and leave Mercedes to herself, but with passionate determination she had refused to allow it. She had thrown prudence to the winds. Careless of whoever might see, of whoever might comment, heedless of the reproving duenna, indifferent to ancient practice, reckless of curious glances, she had insisted upon accompanying the captain and he had yielded. He was doomed in his own soul to death. He intended to tell the Viceroy and de Tobar everything, and he had no doubt that one or the other would instantly kill him. It was a fate to which he would make no resistance. Meanwhile he would enjoy the day. There was a melancholy pleasure, too, in the thought, for this morning had assured him of it, that whatever awaited him Mercedes would belong to no one else. If they killed him she had sworn that she would not survive him. If they strove to force her into the arms of another, she had declared she would die rather than comply, and he believed her. Other women in like circumstances might have resorted to a convent, but Mercedes was not of the temperament which makes that calm harbor an inviting refuge. If she could not have Alvarado, she would simply die--that was all. Under the circumstances, therefore, as he had already forfeited his own esteem, he hesitated no more. Indeed, before the passion of the woman he loved, who loved him, it was not possible. In her presence he could do nothing else. They abandoned themselves with all the fervor of youth and passion to their transports of affection. They wandered away from the others and by the side of the brook beneath the shelter of the trees remained together and whispered all the love that beat within their freed breasts. They might die to-morrow, to-day they lived and loved. Fain would they have prolonged the Elysian dream forever, but the descending sun of the afternoon at last warned Alvarado, if they would reach La Guayra that night, that they must resume their journey. Reluctantly he gave the order to mount. This time, utterly indifferent to the Señora Agapida, Mercedes, mounted on one of the led horses, rode openly by Alvarado's side. Sustained by his presence, constantly in touch with him, she made the way down the difficult wanderings of the rocky mountain trail. They watched the sun set in all its glory over the tropic sea. The evening breeze blew softly about them riding side by side. Then the night fell upon them. Over them blazed the glorious canopy of the tropic stars, chief among them the fiery Southern Cross, emblem of the faith they cherished, the most marvelous diadem in the heavens. There below them twinkled the lights of La Guayra. The road grew broader and smoother now. It was almost at the level of the beach. They would have to pass through the town presently, and thence up a steep rocky road which wound around the mountain until they surmounted the cliff back of the city and arrived at the palace of the Governor upon the hillside, where Mercedes was to lodge. An hour, at least, would bring them to their destination now. There was nothing to apprehend. The brigands in the fastnesses of the mountains or the savages, who sometimes strayed along the road, never ventured so near the town. Fadrique, by Alvarado's orders, had fallen back nearer the main body so as to be within call. "We shall be there in a little while. See yonder, the lights of the town," said the captain. "While thou art with me," said the girl, "it matters little where we are. There are but two places in the world now----" "And those are----?" "Where thou art and where thou art not. If I may only be with thee, if we may be together, I want nothing else." She had scarcely spoken before the sound of a cry followed by a shot broke on the night. BOOK IV IN WHICH IS RELATED AN ACCOUNT OF THE TAKING OF LA GUAYRA BY THE BUCCANEERS AND THE DREADFUL PERILS OF DONNA MERCEDES DE LARA AND CAPTAIN ALVARADO IN THAT CITY CHAPTER XIV WHEREIN THE CREW OF THE GALLEON INTERCEPTS THE TWO LOVERS BY THE WAY The terrific impact of the huge ship on the sand among the breakers which thundered and beat upon her sides with overwhelming force came just in the nick of time for Morgan. Had the disaster been delayed a second longer the furious buccaneers would have cut him down where he stood. Even the officers were angered beyond measure at him for their present situation, which threatened the loss of the vast treasure already gained in the ship, although they had consented to Morgan's proposition to attack La Guayra and Caracas, and the captain was in no way responsible for the storm and the wreck which jeoparded their booty and their future. Therefore it is probable that none of them, unless it were Teach, would have interfered to save Morgan, and he would have been swept from his feet by the savage men and instantly killed, in spite of all that he, or Carib, or any one else could have done. But the violence of the shock when the ship took ground threw them to the deck, and they forgot for the instant their bloody purpose of vengeance in the inevitableness of their approaching danger; they were checked in their mad anger for a few seconds and given a moment for reflection, that moment convinced them that they could not yet dispense with the services of their captain. With black rage and white fear striving for mastery in their hearts, they rose to their feet and faced him with menacing faces and threatening gestures. "What's to be done now?" questioned one bolder than the rest. "Now's the time," roared the undaunted Morgan, striving to make himself heard by all above the thundering seas, "to show your courage, lads!" He had quickly observed that the force with which she had been driven on the shoals had shoved the galleon's nose firmly in the sand. She had been caught just before she took ground by a tremendous roller and had been lifted up and hurled far over to starboard. Although almost on her beam ends, her decks inclining landward, the strongly-built ship held steady in spite of the tremendous onslaughts of the seas along her bilge. "Take heart, men!" he cried. "Observe. She lies still and secure. 'Tis a stout hulk and will take a tremendous battering before she breaks. We may yet save ourselves." "And the treasure?" roared one. "Ay, and the treasure." "I think the storm has about blown itself out," interposed old Hornigold, shouting out at this instant. "Look you, mates," he cried, pointing to westward, "it clears! The sun'll set fair to-night." "The bo's'n is right," cried Morgan. "But first of all we must take no chances with our lives. Even though we lose the ship we can seize another. The world is full of treasure and we can find it. Now I want some one to carry a line ashore through the breakers. Who will volunteer?" "I," said Carib instantly. "I need you here," answered Morgan, who did not purpose to be deprived of that bodyguard upon whose watchfulness his life had so often depended. "I'll go," exclaimed young Teach, breaking through the crowd. "That's a brave heart!" said Morgan. "A line here!" Instantly a light line was forthcoming. Teach tore off his jacket, laid aside his weapons, kicked off his shoes, took a turn of the line around his waist, made it fast, wrung Morgan's hand, watched his chance, leaped overboard, was caught by an onrushing wave and carried far toward the shore. The ebb of the roller carried him back seaward some distance, but he swam forward madly, and the next wave brought him a little nearer the beach. He was driven backward and forward, but each time managed to get a little nearer the shore line. The whole ship's company stared after him, spontaneously cheering and yelling cries of encouragement in spite of the fact that he could not hear a single sound in the roaring, raging seas. Morgan himself tended the line, skilfully paying it out when necessary. In a few moments, although the time seemed hours to the watchers, the feet of Teach touched the shore, and although the terrific undertow of the wave that had dropped him there almost bore him back again, yet by a superhuman exertion he managed to stagger forward, and the next moment they saw him fall prostrate on the sand. Had he fainted or given way? They looked at him with bated breath but after a little space they saw him rise slowly to his feet and stagger inland toward a low point where a lofty palm tree was writhing and twisting in the fierce wind. He was too good a seaman not instantly to see what was required of him, for, waving his hand toward the ship he at once began to haul in the line. Ready hands had bent a larger rope to it, which was succeeded by a third, strong enough to bear a man's weight. The buccaneer hauled this last in with great difficulty, for the distance was far and the wet rope was heavy. He climbed up and made it fast to the tree and then waited. As soon as he had done so there was a rush on the ship for the line which had been made fast inboard temporarily. Morgan, however, interposed between the crew and the coveted way to safety. "Back!" he shouted. "One at a time, and the order as I appoint! You, L'Ollonois, and you, and you," he cried, indicating certain men upon whom he could depend. "Go in succession. Then haul a heavier rope ashore. We'll put a traveler with a bo's'n's chair on it, and send these nuns and the priests first of all." "Do we have to wait for a lot of wimmin and papists?" growled one man among the frightened rascals. "You have to wait until the ship breaks up beneath your feet, if it is my pleasure," said Morgan, coolly, and they slunk back again, cowed. He was master of the situation once more. There was something about that man that enforced obedience, whether they would or no. His orders were promptly obeyed and intelligently carried out by L'Ollonois and his men, who first went ashore. A heavy hawser was dragged through the surf and made fast high up on the sturdy palm tree. On it they rigged a traveler and the chair, and then the frightened nuns were brought forward from the cabin. The women were sick with apprehension. They knew, of course, that the ship had struck, and they had been expecting instant death. Their prayers had been rudely interrupted by Morgan's messenger, and when they came out on deck in that stern tempest, amid that body of wild, ruthless men, their hearts sank within them. At the sight of those human fiends they would fain have welcomed that watery grave from which they had just been imploring God to save them. When they discovered that their only means of safety lay in making that perilous passage through the waters which overwhelmed the bight of rope in which hung the boatswain's chair, they counted themselves as dead. Indeed, they would have refused to go had it not been for the calm and heroic resolution of the abbess, their leader, Sister Maria Christina, who strove to assuage their fears. "Hornigold," said Morgan, "are you still faithful to me in this crisis?" "I shall obey you in all things--now," answered the boatswain. "Swear it." "By the old buccaneer faith," said the One-Eyed, again adding the significant adverb, "now." For a wonder, the captain paid no attention to the emphasis on the word, "now." "Can you keep your pistols dry?" "I can wrap them in oilskin and thrust them in my jacket." "Go to the shore, then," said Morgan, "and receive these women. March them away from the men to yonder clump of palms, and guard them as you would your life. If any man approach you or them for any purpose, shoot him dead without a word. I'll see that the others have no weapons. D'ye understand?" "Ay, and shall obey." "Go!" The boatswain swung himself into the chair and the men on the other end of the traveler pulled him to the other shore, none the worse for his wetting. He opened his jacket, found the weapons dry, and waved his hand as a sign to Morgan that he was all right. "Which of you women will go first?" asked Morgan. He turned instinctively to the tall abbess, towering among her shrinking sisters. She indicated first one and then another among the poor captives, and as they refused, she turned to Morgan and, with a grave dignity, said in Spanish, of which he was a master, that she would go first to show the way, and then the others would be in better heart to follow. She sat down on the boatswain's chair--which, was simply a bit of wood held like the seat of a swing in a triangle of rope--made the sign of the cross, and waved her hand. She was hauled ashore in an instant with nothing worse to complain of than a drenching by the waves. By Hornigold's direction she walked past him toward the clump of palms which Morgan had indicated. One after another of the women were sent forward until the whole party was ashore. Then the Spanish priests took their turn, and after these reached the sand the rest of the crew were sent ashore. Morgan was careful to indicate each one's turn, so that he preserved a balance between the more reputable and the more degraded members of the crew, both on ship and shore. Among the last to go were the maroon and de Lussan, each armed as Hornigold had been. They had both received instructions, one to station himself at the palm tree, the other to cover the hawser where it ran along the shore before it entered the water. These precautionary orders which he had given were necessary, for when the last man had been hauled ashore and Morgan stepped into the chair for his turn, one of the infuriated buccaneers, watching his chance, seized his jack-knife, the only weapon that he had, for Morgan had been careful to make the men leave their arms on the ship, and made a rush for the rope to cut it and leave the captain to his fate. But de Lussan shot him dead, and before the others could make a move Morgan stepped safely on the sand. "That was well done," he cried, turning to the Frenchman. "Ah, mon capitaine," answered the other, "it was not from affection, but because you are necessary to us." "Whatever it may be," returned the old man, "I owe much to you and scuttle me, I'll not forget it." The Frenchman, indifferent to Morgan's expressions of gratitude, shrugged his shoulders, turned away, and made no reply. The transportation of so many people across the slender line had taken a long time. The sun, just beginning to break through the riven clouds, was near its setting; night would soon be upon them. They must hurry with what was yet to be done. Morgan sent Teach and the Brazilian back to the ship with instructions to gather up enough weapons to arm the crew and to send them ashore. This was promptly done. Indeed, communication was not difficult now that the force of the gale was abating. The ship had been badly battered but still held together, and would hold unless the storm came up again. As the arms came ashore Morgan served them out to those men whom he considered most reliable; and, after throwing out a strong guard around the band, the rest sought shelter around huge driftwood fires which had been kindled by the use of flint and steel. There was hardly a possibility they would be observed in that deserted land, but still it was wise to take precaution. Morgan ordered the women and priests to be double-guarded by the trustiest, and it was well that he did so. He gave old Hornigold particular charge of them. The buccaneers were hungry and thirsty, but they were forced to do without everything until morning when they could get all they wanted from the ship. So they tightened their belts and disposed themselves about the fires as best they could to get what rest they might. [Illustration: But de Lussan shot him dead, and before the others could make a move, Morgan stepped safely on the sand.] Morgan and the officers drew apart and consulted long and earnestly over the situation. They could never make the ship seaworthy again. To build a smaller one out of her timbers would be the work of months and when it was finished it could not possibly carry the whole crew. To march westward toward the Isthmus meant to encounter terrific hardships for days; their presence would speedily become known, and they would be constantly menaced or attacked by troops from the heavily garrisoned places like Porto Bello and Carthagena. Back of them a short distance away lay La Guayra. It could be taken by surprise, Morgan urged, and easily captured. If they started to march westward the Indians would apprise the Spaniards of their presence, and they would have to fight their way to the Pacific. If they took La Guayra, then the Viceroy, with the treasure of his palace and the opulent city of Caracas would be at their mercy. They could ravage the two towns, seize the first ship that came to the roadstead, and make their way to the Isthmus safely and speedily. As to the treasure on the galleon, the buccaneer captain proposed to unload it and bury it in the sand, and after they had captured La Guayra it would be easy to get it back again. Morgan's counsel prevailed, and his was the resolution to which they came. The council of war broke up thereafter, and those not told off to watch with the guards went to sleep near the fires. Morgan, under the guardianship of the faithful Black Dog, threw himself upon the ground to catch a few hours' rest. The next morning the wind had died away and the sea was fairly calm. The men swam out to the galleon, found her still intact though badly strained, and by means of boats and rafts, working with persistent energy, succeeded in landing and burying the treasure under the very palm tree which held the rope that had given them salvation. Morgan's plan was an excellent one, the best that could be suggested in the straits they then were, and it received the hearty assent of all the men. It took them all day to land the treasure and make their other preparations, which included the manufacture of several rude scaling ladders, pieces of timber with cross pieces nailed upon them, which could be used in surmounting the walls of the town. In the evening the order of march was arranged and their departure set for the morrow. They had saved their treasure, they had food in plenty now, and with dry clothes and much rum they began to take a more cheerful view of life. They were fairly content once more. The next day, in the afternoon, for he desired to approach the town at nightfall, Morgan gave the order to advance. He was as much of a soldier as a sailor and sent ahead a party of choice spirits under Teach, while the main body followed some distance behind. As the shades of evening descended a messenger from the advance guard came back with the news that a party of travelers had been seen coming down the mountain; that they comprised a half-dozen troopers, a number of slaves, a heavily laden pack train, and two women. Teach had stationed his men under the trees at a bend of the road around which the travelers had to pass, and he awaited Morgan's orders. Taking a detachment of the most reliable men with Velsers and Hornigold, and bidding the other officers and men to stand where they were until he sent word, Morgan and those with him ran rapidly forward until they came to the ambuscade which young Teach had artfully prepared. He and his had scarcely time to dispose themselves for concealment before a soldier came riding carelessly down the road. Waiting until the man had passed him a short distance and until the other unsuspicious travelers were fairly abreast the liers-in-wait, whom he had charged on no account to move until he gave the word, Morgan stepped out into the open and called. The buccaneers instantly followed him. As the soldier saw these fierce looking men spring before him out of the darkness, he cried aloud. The next moment he was shot dead by Morgan himself. At the same instant a volley rang out at contact range, and every man in the party fell to the ground. Some were killed, others only wounded; all of them except Alvarado were injured in some way. He struck spurs into his horse when he heard the cry of Fadrique and the shot. The surprised barb plunged forward, was hit by half a dozen bullets, fell to the ground in a heap, and threw his rider over his head. The Spaniard scrambled to his feet, whipped out his sword, lunged forward and drove his blade into the breast of old Velsers. The next instant a dozen weapons flashed over his head. One rang upon his steel casque, another crashed against the polished breastplate that he wore. He cut out again in the darkness, and once more fleshed his weapon. Women's screams rose above the tumult. Beating back the swords which menaced him, although he was reeling from the blows which he had received, Alvarado strove to make his way toward Donna Mercedes, when he was seized in the darkness from behind. "Kill him!" cried a voice in English, which Alvarado and Mercedes both understood perfectly. "He's the only one alive." "Nay," cried another voice, stronger and sterner, "save him; we'll question him later. Did any escape?" "Not one." "Are there any horses alive?" "Two or three." "Bring them hither. Now back to the rest. Then we can show a light and see what we have captured. Teach, lead on. Let no harm come to the women." "Ay, ay," answered another voice out of the darkness, and a third voice growled out: "Hadn't we better make sure that none are alive to tell the tale?" "Of course; a knife for the wounded," answered the stern voice, "and bear a hand." Greatly surprised and unable to comprehend anything but that his men had been slaughtered and no harm had as yet befallen his charges, Alvarado, whose arms had been bound to his side, found himself dragged along in the wake of his captors, one or two of whom mounted on the unwounded horses, with the two women between them, rode rapidly down the road. CHAPTER XV TELLS HOW MERCEDES DE LARA RETURNED THE UNSOUGHT CARESS OF SIR HENRY MORGAN, AND THE MEANS BY WHICH THE BUCCANEERS SURMOUNTED THE WALLS One hundred yards or so beyond the place of the ambush the road dropped sharply over the last low cliff to the narrow strand which led to the west wall of La Guayra, distant a half a mile away. They had all been under the deep shadow of the thick trees overhanging the way until this instant, but in the faint light cast by the moon just risen, Alvarado could see that a great body of people were congregated before him on the road. Who they were and what they were he could not surmise. He was not long left in doubt, however, for the same voice whose commanding tones had caused his life to be spared, now called for lights. The demand was obeyed with a promptness that bespoke fear indeed, or discipline of the sternest, and soon the captives found themselves in a circle of lurid light sent forth by a number of blazing torches. The illumination revealed to Alvarado as villainous and terrible-looking a body of men as he had ever seen. The first glance convinced him that they were not Spanish brigands or robbers. He was too young to have had dealings with the buccaneers of the past generation, but he realized that if any such remained on this side of the earth, they must be like these men who surrounded him. He wasted no time in surmises, however, for after the first swift comprehensive glance his eyes sought Mercedes. She sat her horse free and uninjured apparently, for which he thanked God. She was leaning forward over her saddle and staring in bewilderment and surprise at the scene and confusion before her. "Donna Mercedes," cried Alvarado, turning himself about, in spite of his bonds and the restraint his immediate captors endeavored to put upon him, "are you safe--unhurt?" "Safe," answered the girl, "and thou?" "Well, but for these bonds." "God be thanked! Who are these men?" "I know not, but----" "Oh, sir," interrupted Señora Agapida, recovering her voice at the sound of the Spanish tongue, "for Christ's sake, what does this mean? Save us!" "Señora," said that same sharp voice, but this time speaking in the Spanish tongue, as a tall man, hat in hand, urged his horse forward, "fear nothing, you shall be protected. And you, señorita. Do I not have the honor of addressing Donna Mercedes de Lara?" "That is my name," answered the girl, haughtily. "Who are you? Why have you shot my people and seized me prisoner?" "For love of you, Mistress Mercedes." "Just heaven! Who are you, I say!" cried the girl at this startling answer, turning in surprise and terror to look upon his countenance. There was something familiar in the man's face that called up a vague recollection which she strove to master. "Who are you?" she cried again. "Sir Harry Morgan!" answered the horseman, bowing low over the saddle, "a free sailor at your service, ma'am." "My God!" cried Alvarado, who had listened attentively, "the buccaneer?" "The same," answered Morgan turning to him. "Sir Harry Morgan! Were you not Governor of Jamaica last year?" asked Mercedes in astonishment. "I had that honor, lady." "Why are you now in arms against us?" "A new king, Mistress de Lara, sits the English throne. He likes me not. I and these gallant seamen are going to establish a kingdom in some sweet island in the South Seas, with our good swords. I would fain have a woman to bear me company on the throne. Since I saw you in Jamaica last year, I have designed you for the honor----" "Monster!" screamed the girl, appalled by the hideous leer which accompanied his words. "Rather anything----" "Sir," interrupted Alvarado, "you are an Englishman. Your past rank should warrant you a gentleman, but for this. There is no war between England and Spain. What is the meaning of this outrage? This lady is the daughter of the Viceroy of Venezuela. I am his captain and the commandante of yonder city of La Guayra. You have waylaid us, taken us at a disadvantage. My men are killed. For this assault His Excellency will exact bloody reparation. Meanwhile give order that we be unbound, and let us pass." "Ho, ho!" laughed the buccaneer. "Think you I fear the Viceroy? Nay, not His Majesty of Spain himself! I came here with set purpose to take La Guayra and then Caracas, and to bear away with me this pretty lady upon whom, I repeat, I design to bestow the honor of my name." As he spoke he leaned toward Mercedes, threw his arm around her waist, and before she was even aware of her intention, kissed her roughly on the cheek. "Lads," he cried, "three cheers for the future Lady Morgan!" The proud Spanish girl turned white as death under this insult. Her eyes flashed like coals of fire. Morgan was close beside her. She was without weapon save a jeweled whip that hung at her wrist. Before the first note of a cheer could break from the lips of the men she lifted it and struck him violently again and again full in the face. "Thou devil!" cried the captain in fury, whipping out his sword and menacing her with it. "Strike!" cried Mercedes bravely, "and let my blood wash out the insult that you have put upon my cheek." She raised her whip once more, but this time young Teach, coming on the other side, caught her hand, wrested the jeweled toy from her, and broke it in the struggle. "Thou shalt pay dearly for those stripes, lady!" roared Morgan, swerving closer to her. "And not now in honorable wedlock----" "I will die first!" returned Mercedes. Alvarado, meanwhile, had been struggling desperately to free himself. By the exercise of superhuman strength, just as Morgan again menaced the woman he loved, he succeeded in freeing himself from his loosely-tied bonds. His guards for the moment had their attention distracted from him by the group on horseback. He wrenched a sword from the hand of one, striking him a blow with his naked fist that sent him reeling as he did so, and then flung out his other arm so that the heavy pommel of the sword struck the second guard in the face, and the way was clear for the moment. He sprang forward instantly, seized Morgan's horse, forced him away from Mercedes by a wrench of his powerful arm, and stood at bay in front of the woman he loved. He said no word but stood with his sword up on guard, panting heavily from his fierce exertions. "Alvarado, you will be killed!" screamed the girl, seeing the others make for him. "Here we have it," sneered Morgan. "This is the secret of your refusal. He is your lover." "Seize him!" cried Teach, raising his sword, as followed by the others he made at Alvarado, who awaited them undaunted. "Stay!" shouted de Lussan, "there is a better way." Rudely shoving Señora Agapida aside, he seized Mercedes from behind. "Do not move, mademoiselle," he said in French, in his excitement, which fortunately she understood. "That's well done!" cried Morgan, "Captain Alvarado, if that be your name, throw down your sword if you would save the lady's life." "Mind me not, Alvarado," cried Mercedes, but Alvarado, perceiving the situation, instantly dropped his weapon. "Now seize him and bind him again! And you, dogs!" Morgan added, turning to the men who had allowed the prisoner to slip before, "if he escape you again you shall be hanged to the nearest tree!" "Hadst not better bind the woman, too?" queried the Frenchman gently, still holding her fast in his fierce grasp. "Ay, the wench as well. Oh, I'll break your spirit, my pretty one," answered Morgan savagely, flipping the young woman's cheek. "Wilt pay me blows for kisses? Scuttle me, you shall crawl at my feet before I've finished with you!" "Why not kill this caballero out of hand, captain?" asked Hornigold, savage from a slight wound, as he limped up to Morgan. "No, I have use for him. Are the rest silent?" "They will tell no tales," laughed L'Ollonois grimly. "Did none escape back up the road?" "None, Sir Henry," answered the other. "My men closed in after them and drove them forward. They are all gone." "That's well. Now, for La Guayra. What force is there, Señor Capitan?" Alvarado remained obstinately silent. He did not speak even when Morgan ruthlessly cut him across the cheek with his dagger. He did not utter a sound, although Mercedes groaned in anguish at the sight of his torture. "You'd best kill him, captain," said L'Ollonois. "No, I have need for him, I say," answered Morgan, giving over the attempt to make him speak. "Is any one here who has been at La Guayra recently?" he asked of the others. "I was there last year on a trading ship of France," answered Sawkins. "What garrison then?" "About two hundred and fifty." "Was it well fortified?" "As of old, sir, by the forts on either side and a rampart along the sea wall." "Were the forts in good repair?" "Well kept indeed, but most of the guns bore seaward." "Have you the ladders ready?" cried Morgan to Braziliano, who had been charged to convey the rude scaling ladders by which they hoped to get over the walls. "All ready, captain," answered that worthy. "Let us go forward then. We'll halt just out of musket-shot and concert our further plans. We have the Governor in our hands, lads. The rest will be easy. There is plenty of plunder in La Guayra, and when we have made it our own we'll over the mountains and into Caracas. Hornigold, you are lame from a wound, look to the prisoners." "To La Guayra! To La Guayra!" enthusiastically shouted the men, taking up the line of march. The rising moon flooding the white strand made the scene as light as day. They kept good watch on the walls of La Guayra, for the sound of the shots in the night air had been heard by some keen-eared sentry, and as a result the garrison had been called to arms. The firing had been too heavy to be accounted for by any ordinary circumstances, and officers and soldiers had been at a loss to understand it. However, to take precautions were wise, and every preparation was made as if against an immediate attack. The drums were beaten; the ramparts were manned; the guns were primed, and such of the townspeople as were not too timid to bear arms were assembled under their militia officers. The watchers on the west wall of the fort were soon aware of the approach of the buccaneers. Indeed, they made no concealment whatever about their motions. Who they were and what they were the garrison had not discovered and could not imagine. A prompt and well-aimed volley, however, as soon as the buccaneers came within range apprised them that they were dealing with enemies, and determined enemies at that. Under cover of the confusion caused by this unexpected discharge, Morgan deployed his men. "Lads," he said, "we'll board yon fort with a rush and a cheer. The ladders will be placed on the walls, and under cover of a heavy fire from our musketry we'll go over them. Use only the cutlass when you gain the parapet and ply like men. Remember what's on the other side!" "Ay, but who'll plant the ladders?" asked one. "The priests and women," said Morgan grimly. "I saved them for that." A roar of laughter and cheers broke from the ruffianly gang as they appreciated the neatness of the old buccaneer's scheme. "'Tis an old trick," he continued; "we did the same thing thirty years since at Porto Bello. Eh, Hornigold? How's that leg of yours?" "Stiff and sore." "Bide here then with the musketeers. Teach, you shall take the walls under the cliff yonder. L'Ollonois, lead your men straight at the fort. De Lussan, let the curtain between be your point. I shall be with the first to get over. Now, charge your pieces all, and Hornigold, after we have started, by slow and careful fire do you keep the Spaniards down until you hear us cheer. After that, hold your fire." "But I should like to be in the first rank myself, master," growled the old boatswain. "Ha, ha!" laughed Morgan, "that's a right spirit, lad, but that cut leg holds you back, for which you have to thank this gentleman," bowing toward Alvarado with a hideous countenance. "You can be of service here. Watch the musketeers. We would have no firing into our backs. Now bring up the women and priests. And, Hornigold, watch Señorita de Lara. See that she does not escape. On your life, man; I'd rather hold her safe," he muttered under his breath, "than take the whole city of Caracas." With shouts of fiendish glee the buccaneers drove the hapless nuns and priests, who had been dragged along in the rear, to the front. The Spaniards were firing at them now, but with no effect so far. The distance was great and the moonlight made aim uncertain, and every time a head showed itself over the battlement it became a target for the fire of the musketeers, who, by Hornigold's orders, ran forward under the black shadow cast by the high cliff, where they could not be seen, and from this point of concealment, taking deliberate aim, made havoc among the defenders. "Now, good fathers and sisters," began Morgan, "you have doubtless been curious to know why you were not put to death. I saved you--not because I loved you, but because I needed you. I had a purpose in view; that purpose is now apparent." "What would you with us, señor?" asked Sister Maria Christina, the abbess, stepping out in front of her sisters. "A little service, my sister. Bring up the ladders, men. See, there are seven all told. That will be four ladies apiece to four ladders; and here are seven priests, which allows two to each of the three remaining ladders, with one priest and one sister over for good measure, and to take the place of any that may be struck down." "And what are we to do with them, señor?" asked Fra Antonio de Las Casas, drawing nearer to the captain. "You are to carry them to yonder wall and place them against it." "You do not mean," burst out Alvarado painfully, for he could scarcely speak from his wounded cheek, "to make these holy women bear the brunt of that fire from the fort, and the good priests as well?" "Do I value the lives of women and priests, accursed Spaniard, more than our own?" questioned the captain, and the congenial sentiment was received by a yell of approval from the men. "But if you are tender-hearted, I'll give the defenders a chance. Will you advise them to yield and thus spare these women?" "I can not do that," answered Alvarado sadly. "'Tis their duty to defend the town. There are twenty women here, there are five hundred there." "D'ye hear that, mates?" cried Morgan. "Up with the ladders!" "But what if we refuse?" cried the abbess. "You shall be given over to the men," answered Morgan, ferociously, "whereas, if you do as I order, you may go free; those who are left alive after the storm. Do ye hear, men? We'll let them go after they have served us," continued the chief turning to his men. "Swear that you will let them go! There are others in La Guayra." "We swear, we swear!" shouted one after another, lifting their hands and brandishing their weapons. "You hear!" cried Morgan. "Pick up the ladders!" "For God's sake, sir----" began Maria Christina. "I know no God," interrupted Morgan. "You had a mother--a wife once--perhaps children, Señor Capitan. Unsay your words! We can not place the ladders which will give you access to yonder helpless town." "Then to the men you go!" cried Morgan ruthlessly. "Forward here, two or three of you, take this woman! She chooses----" "Death----" cried the abbess, snatching a dagger from the nearest hand and driving it into her breast, "rather than dishonor!" She held herself proudly erect for a moment, swayed back and forth, and then fell prostrate upon the sand, the blood staining her white robe about the hilt of the poniard. She writhed and shuddered in agony where she lay, striving to say something. Fra Antonio sprang to her side, and before any one could interfere knelt down. "I--I--I have sinned," she gasped. "Mercy, mercy!" "Thou hast done well, I absolve thee!" cried the priest, making the sign of the cross upon her forehead. "Death and fury!" shouted Morgan, livid with rage. "Let her die unshriven! Shall I be balked thus?" He sprang toward the old man stooping over the woman, and struck him across his shaven crown with the blade of his sword. The priest pitched down instantly upon the body of the abbess, a long shudder running through him. Then he lay still. "Harry Morgan's way!" cried the buccaneer, recovering his blade. "And you?" turning toward the other women. "Have you had lesson enough? Pick up those ladders, or by hell----" "Mercy, mercy!" screamed the frightened nuns. "Not another word! Drive them forward, men!" The buccaneers sprang at the terrified women and priests, some with weapons out, others with leers and outstretched arms. First one and then another gave way. The only leadership among the sisters and priests lay upon the sand there. What could they do? They picked up the ladders and, urged forward by threats and shouts of the buccaneers under cover of a furious discharge from Hornigold's musketeers, they ran to the walls imploring the Spaniards not to fire upon them. When the Spanish commander perceived who were approaching, with a mistaken impulse of mercy he ordered his men to fire over their heads, and so did little danger to the approaching buccaneers. A few of them fell, but the rest dashed into the smoke. There was no time for another discharge. The ladders were placed against the walls, and priests and nuns were ruthlessly cast aside and trampled down. In a little space the marauders were upon the ramparts fighting like demons. Morgan, covered by Black Dog, with Teach, de Lussan, and L'Ollonois, was in the lead. Truth to tell, the captain was never backward when fighting was going on. The desperate onslaught of their overwhelming numbers, once they had gained a foothold, swept the defenders before them like chaff. Waiting for nothing, they sprang down from the fort and raced madly through the narrow streets of the town. They brushed opposition away as leaves are driven aside by a winter storm. Ere the defenders on the east forts could realize their presence, they were upon them, also. In half an hour every man bearing a weapon had been cut down. The town was at the mercy of this horde of human tigers. They broke open wine cellars; they pillaged the provision shops; they tortured without mercy the merchants and inhabitants to force them to discover their treasures, and they insulted and outraged the helpless women. They were completely beyond control now; drunk with slaughter, intoxicated with liquor, mad with lust, they ravaged and plundered. To add to the confusion, fire burst forth here and there, and before the morning dawned half of the city was in ashes. The pale moon looked down upon a scene of horror such as it had never before shone upon, even in the palmiest days of the buccaneers. CHAPTER XVI IN WHICH BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD RECOGNIZES A CROSS, AND CAPTAIN ALVARADO FINDS AND LOSES A MOTHER ON THE STRAND The musketeers under Hornigold, chosen for their mastery with the weapon, had played their parts with cunning skill. [Illustration] Concealed from observation by the deep shadow of the cliffs, and therefore immune from the enemy's fire, they had made targets of the Spaniards on the walls, and by a close, rapid, and well-directed discharge, had kept down the return of the garrison until the very moment of the assault. Hornigold was able to keep them in hand for a little space after the capture of the town, but the thought of the pleasure being enjoyed by their comrades was too much for them. Anxious to take a hand in the hideous fray, they stole away one by one, slinking under the cliff until they were beyond the reach of the boatswain, then boldly rushing for the town in the open, until the old sailor was left with only a half-dozen of the most dependable surrounding himself and prisoners. The rest would not have got away from him so easily had he not been so intensely occupied that at first he had taken little note of what was going on. Mercedes and Alvarado had only opportunity to exchange a word now and then, for extended conversation was prevented by the guards. Alvarado strove to cheer the woman he loved, and she promised him she would choose instant death rather than dishonor. He could give her little encouragement of rescue, for unless word of their plight were carried to the Viceroy immediately, he would be far on the way to the Orinoco country before any tidings could reach him, and by the time he returned it would be too late. Again and again Alvarado strove to break his bonds, in impotent and helpless fury, but this time he was securely bound and his captors only laughed at his struggles. In the midst of their grief and despair they both took notice of the poor abbess. Fra Antonio had not moved since Morgan had stricken him down, but there was life still in the woman, for, from where they stood, some distance back, the two lovers each marked her convulsive trembling. The sight appealed profoundly to them in spite of their perilous situation. "The brave sister lives," whispered Mercedes. "'Tis so," answered Alvarado. "Señor," he called, "the sister yonder is alive. Wilt not allow us to minister to her?" "Nay," said Hornigold brusquely, "I will go myself. Back, all of ye!" he added. "She may wish to confess to me in default of the worthy father." He leered hideously as he spoke. "Coward!" cried Alvarado, but his words affected Hornigold not at all. Before he could say another word the guards forced him rudely back with the two women. The worthy Señora Agapida by this time was in a state of complete and total collapse, but Mercedes bore herself--her lover marked with pleasure--as proudly and as resolutely as if she still stood within her father's palace surrounded by men who loved her and who would die for her. Rolling the body of the prostrate old man aside, Hornigold knelt down on the white sand by the form of the sister. The moonlight shone full upon her face, and as he stooped over he scanned it with his one eye. A sudden flash of recognition came to him. With a muttered oath of surprise he looked again. "It can't be!" he exclaimed, "and yet----" After Fra Antonio's brave attempt at absolution, the woman had fainted. Now she opened her eyes, although she was not yet fully conscious. "Water!" she gasped feebly, and as it chanced the boatswain had a small bottle of the precious fluid hanging from a strap over his shoulder. There was no pity in the heart of the pirate, he would have allowed the woman to die gasping for water without giving her a second thought, but when he recognized her--or thought he did--there instantly sprang into his mind a desire to make sure. If she were the person he thought her she might have information of value. Unslinging the bottle and pulling out the cork, he placed it to her lips. "I--die," she murmured in a stronger voice. "A priest." "There is none here," answered the boatswain. "Fra Antonio--he absolved you." "Where is he?" "Dead, yonder." "But I must confess." "Confess to me," chuckled the old man in ghastly mockery. "Many a woman has done so and----" "Art in Holy Orders, señor?" muttered the woman. [Illustration: The moonlight shone full upon her face, and as he stooped over he scanned it with his one eye.] "Holy enough for you. Say on." "Fra Antonio, now," she continued, vacantly lapsing into semi-delirium, "he married us--'twas a secret--his rank was so great. He was rich, I poor--humble. The marriage lines--in the cross. There was a--What's that? A shot? The buccaneers. They are coming! Go not, Francisco!" Hornigold, bending an attentive ear to these broken sentences lost not a word. "Go not," she whispered, striving to lift an arm, "they will kill thee! Thou shalt not leave me alone, my Francisco--The boy--in Panama----" It was evident to the sailor that the poor woman's mind had gone back to the dreadful days of the sack of Panama. He was right then, it was she. "The boy--save him, save him!" she cried suddenly with astonishing vigor. The sound of her own voice seemed to recall her to herself. She stopped, her eyes lost their wild glare and fixed themselves upon the man above her, his own face in the shadow as hers was in the light. "Is it Panama?" she asked. "Those screams--the shots--" She turned her head toward the city. "The flames--is it Panama?" "Nay," answered the one-eyed fiercely. "'Tis twenty-five years since then, and more. Yonder city is La Guayra. This is the coast of Venezuela." "Oh--the doomed town--I remember--now--I stabbed myself rather than--place the ladders. Who art thou, señor?" "Benjamin Hornigold!" cried the man fiercely, bending his face to hers. For a second the woman stared at him. Then, recognizing him, she screamed horribly, raising herself upon her arm. "Hornigold!" she cried. "What have you done with the child?" "I left him at Cuchillo, outside the walls," answered the man. "And the cross?" "On his breast. The Captain----" "The marriage lines were there. You betrayed me. May God's curse--nay, I die. For Christ's sake--I forgive--Francisco, Francisco." She fell back gasping on the sand. He tore the enclosing coif from her face. In a vain effort to hold back death's hand for another second, Hornigold snatched a spirit flask from his belt and strove to force a drop between her lips. It was too late. She was gone. He knew the signs too well. He laid her back on the sand, exclaiming: "Curse her! Why couldn't she have lived a moment longer? The Captain's brat--and she might have told me. Bring up the prisoners!" he cried to the guards, who had moved them out of earshot of this strange conversation. "The cross," he muttered, "the marriage lines therein. The only clew. And yet she cried 'Francisco.' That was the name. Who is he? If I could find that cross. I'd know it among a thousand. Hither," he called to the prisoners slowly approaching. "The good sister?" queried Alvarado. "Dead." As the young soldier, with an ejaculation of pity, bent forward in the moonlight to look upon the face of the dead woman, from his torn doublet a silver crucifix suddenly swung before the eyes of the old buccaneer. "By heaven!" he cried. "'Tis the cross." He stepped nearer to Alvarado, seized the carven crucifix, and lifted it to the light. "I could swear it was the same," he muttered. "Señor, your name and rank?" "I can not conceive that either concerns a bloodthirsty ruffian like----" "Stop! Perhaps there is more in this than thou thinkest," said Mercedes. "Tell him, Alvarado. It can do no harm. Oh, señor, have pity on us! Unbind me," she added, "I give you my word. I wish but to pay my respect to the woman yonder." "She gives good counsel, soldier," answered the boatswain. "Cut her lashing," he said to the sailor who guarded them. As the buccaneer did so, Mercedes sank on her knees by the side of the dead woman. "Now, sir, your name?" asked Hornigold again. "Alvarado." "Where got you that name?" "It was given me by His Excellency, the Viceroy." "And wherefore?" There was something so tremendous in Hornigold's interest that in spite of himself the young man felt compelled to answer. "It was his pleasure." "Had you not a name of your own?" "None that I know of." "What mean you?" "I was found, a baby, outside the walls of Panama in a little village. The Viceroy adopted me and brought me up. That is all." "When was this?" asked Hornigold. "After the sack of Panama. And the name of the village was----" "Cuchillo----" interrupted Hornigold triumphantly. "My God, señor, how know you that?" "I was there." "You were there?" cried the young man. "Ay." "For love of heaven, can you tell me who I am, what I am?" "In good time, young sir, and for a price. At present I know but one thing." "That is----" "There lies your mother," answered the buccaneer slowly, pointing to the white figure on the sand. "My mother! Madre de Dios!" cried Alvarado, stepping forward and looking down upon the upturned face with its closely cut white hair, showing beautiful in the moonlight. "God rest her soul, she hath a lovely face and died in defence of her honor like the gentlewoman she should be. My mother--how know you this?" "In the sack of Panama a woman gave me a male child, and for money I agreed to take it and leave it in a safe and secluded spot outside the city walls. I carried it at the hazard of my life as far as Cuchillo and there left it." "But how know you that the child you left is I?" "Around the baby's neck the mother, ere she gave him to me, placed this curious cross you wear. 'Tis of such cunning workmanship that there is naught like it under the sun that ever I have seen. I knew it even in the faint light when my eyes fell upon it. I left the child with a peasant woman to take him where I had been directed. I believed him safe. On leaving Panama that village lay in our backward path. We burned it down. I saw the baby again. Because I had been well paid I saved him from instant death at the hands of the buccaneers, who would have tossed him in the air on the point of their spears. I shoved the crucifix, which would have tempted them because it was silver, underneath the dress and left the child. He was alive when we departed." "And the day after," cried Alvarado, "de Lara's troops came through that village and found me still wearing that cross. My mother! Loving God, can it be? But my father----" "What shall I have if I tell you?" "Riches, wealth, all--Set us free and----" "Not now. I can not now. Wait." "At least, Donna Mercedes." "Man, 'twould be my life that would pay; but I'll keep careful watch over her. I have yet some influence with the Captain. To-morrow I'll find a way to free you--you must do the rest." "Mercedes," said Alvarado, "heardst thou all?" "But little," answered the girl. "That lady--is believed to have been my mother!" "Gentle or simple," said the girl, "she died in defence of her honor, like the noblest, the best. This for thee, good sister," she whispered, bending down and kissing the pale forehead. "And may I do the like when my time comes. Thou shouldst be proud of her, my Alvarado," she said, looking up at him. "See!" she cried suddenly as the resemblance, which was indeed strong between them, struck her. "Thou hast her face. Her white hair was once golden like thine. He tells the truth. Oh, sir, for Christ's sake, have pity upon us!" A messenger came staggering toward them across the woods. "Master Hornigold," he cried. "Ay, ay." "We've taken the town. The Captain wants you and your prisoners. You'll find him in the guard room. Oh, ho, there's merry times to-night in La Guayra! All hell's let loose, and we are devils." He laughed boisterously and drunkenly as he spoke and lurched backward over the sands. "We must be gone," said Hornigold. "Rise, mistress. Come, sir." "But this lady," urged Alvarado--his lips could scarcely form the unfamiliar word "mother"--"and the good priest? You will not leave them here?" "The rising tide will bear them out to sea." "A moment--by your leave," said Alvarado, stepping toward the dead. Assisted by Mercedes, for he was still bound, he stooped down and touched his lips to those of the dead woman, whispering a prayer as he did so. Rising to his feet he cried: "But my father--who is he--who was he?" "We shall find that out." "But his name?" "I'm not sure, I can not tell now," answered Hornigold evasively; "but with this clew the rest should be easy. Trust me, and when we can discuss this matter undisturbed----" "But I would know now!" "You forget, young sir, that you are a prisoner, and must suit your will to my pleasure. Forward!" But the soul of the old buccaneer was filled with fierce joy. He thought he knew the secret of the crucifix now. The Spanish captain's mother lay dead upon the sands, but his father lived. He was sure of it. He would free Alvarado and bring him down upon Morgan. He chuckled with fiendish delight as he limped along. He had his revenge now; it lay in the hollow of his hand, and 'twas a rare one indeed. Mercedes being bound again, the little party marched across the beach and the bodies of the priest and the nun were left alone while the night tide came rippling up the strand. Scarcely had the party disappeared within the gate of the fort when the priest slowly and painfully lifted himself on his hands and crawled toward the woman. While the buccaneer had talked with the abbess he had returned to consciousness and had listened. Bit by bit he gathered the details of her story, and in truth he knew it of old. By turning his head he had seen the crucifix on the young man's breast and he also had recognized it. He lay still and silent, however, feigning death, for to have discovered himself would have resulted in his instant despatch. When they had gone he painfully crawled over to the body of the poor nun. "Isabella," he murmured, giving her her birth name, "thou didst suffer. Thou tookest thine own life, but the loving God will forgive thee. I am glad that I had strength and courage to absolve thee before I fell. And I did not know thee. 'Tis so many years since. Thy son, that brave young captain--I will see thee righted. I wonder----" He moved nearer to her, scrutinizing her carefully, and then, with an apology even to the dead, the old man opened the front of her gown. "Ay, ay, I thought so," he said, as his eye caught a glimpse of a gold chain against her white neck. Gently he lifted it, unclasped it, drew it forth. There was a locket upon it. Jewels sparkled upon its surface. She had worn it all these years. "_O, vanitas vanitatum!_" murmured the priest, yet compassionately. "What is it that passes the love of woman?" He slipped it quietly within the breast of his habit and then fell prostrate on the sand, faint from pain and loss of blood. Long the two figures lay there in the moonlight while the rising tide lipped the shining sands. The cool water at last restored consciousness to one of the still forms, but though they laved the beautiful face of the other with tender caresses they could not call back the troubled life that had passed into peaceful eternity. Painfully the old priest raised himself upon his hands and looked about him. "O God!" he murmured, "give me strength to live until I can tell the story. Sister Maria Christina--Isabella that was--thou were brave and thou wert beautiful; thou hast served our Holy Church long and well. If I could only lay thee in some consecrated ground--but soul like to thine makes holy e'en the sea which shall bear thee away. Shriven thou wert, buried thou shalt be." The man struggled to his knees, clasped his hands before him, and began the burial service of his ancient Church. "We therefore commit her body into the great deep," he said, "looking for the general resurrection in the last day, and the life of the world to come----" The water was washing around him ere he finished his mournful task, and with one long look of benison and farewell he rose to his feet and staggered along the road down the beach. Slowly he went, but presently he reached the turn where began the ascent of the mountain. Before he proceeded he halted and looked long toward the flaming, shrieking, ruined town. The flooding tide was in now and the breakers were beating and thundering far across the sands. The body of the abbess was gone. The old man drew himself up, lifted his trembling hands and prayed; he prayed again for the soul of the woman; he prayed for the young man, that he might learn the truth; he prayed for the beautiful damsel who loved him; he prayed for the people, the hapless people of the doomed town, the helpless, outraged women, the bereft mothers, the tortured men, the murdered children, and as he prayed he called down the curse of God upon those who had wrought such ruin. "Slay them, O God! Strike and spare not! Cut them off root and branch who have despoiled thy people Israel. They have taken the sword and may they perish by it as was promised of old!" A gray, grim, gaunt figure, bloodstained, pale, he stood there in that ghastly light, invoking the judgment of God upon Morgan and his men ere he turned away and was lost in the darkness of the mountain. CHAPTER XVII WHICH DESCRIBES AN AUDIENCE WITH SIR HENRY MORGAN AND THE TREACHERY BY WHICH CAPTAIN ALVARADO IS BENEFITED [Illustration] The clock on the wall was striking eleven as Hornigold forced his prisoners into the guardroom of the first fort that had been captured, which, as it was the larger of the two, Morgan had selected as his head quarters. Mercedes' soul had turned to stone at the sights and sounds which met her as she passed through the town where the hellish revelry was now in full blast. The things she witnessed and heard were enough to appall the stoutest heart that ever beat within the rudest breast. She forgot her own danger in her sympathy for the suffering inhabitants of the devoted town. Ghastly pale and sick with horror, she tottered and staggered as she entered the room. As for the Señora Agapida, she had collapsed long since, and for the last one hundred yards of the journey had been dragged helplessly along by two of her captors, who threw her in a senseless heap on the stone flagging of the great vaulted chamber. The agony and suffering, the torture and death, the shame and dishonor of his people affected Alvarado differently. His soul flamed within his breast with pity for the one, rage for the other. He lusted and thirsted to break away and single-handed rush upon the human wolves and tigers, who were despoiling women, torturing men, murdering children, as if they had been devils. The desire mastered him, and he writhed and struggled in his bonds, but unavailingly. It was a haggard, distracted pair, therefore, which was brought before the chief buccaneer. Morgan sat at the head of the guardroom, on a platform, a table before him strewn with reckless prodigality with vessels of gold and silver stolen from altar and sideboard indifferently, some piled high with food, others brimming with a variety of liquors, from the rich old wines of Xeres to the fiery native rum. On one side of the captain was a woman. Pale as a ghost, the young and beautiful widow of a slaughtered officer, in her disordered array she shrank terrified beneath his hand. L'Ollonois, Teach and de Lussan were also in the room. By each one cowered another woman prisoner. Teach was roaring out a song, that song of London town, with its rollicking chorus: "Though life now is pleasant and sweet to the sense, We'll be damnably moldy a hundred years hence." The room was full of plunder of one sort and another, and the buccaneers were being served by frightened negro slaves, their footsteps quickened and their obedience enforced by the sight of a dead black in one corner, whom de Lussan had knifed a short time since because he had been slow in coming to his call. The smell of spilled liquor, of burnt powder, and of blood, indescribable and sickening, hung in the close, hot air. Lamps and candles were flaring and spluttering in the room but the greater illumination came through the open casements from the roaring fires of burning houses outside. The temptation to join in the sack of the town had been too much for Hornigold's remaining men, consequently he and those conveying Señora Agapida alone attended the prisoners. These last, after throwing the duenna recklessly upon the floor, hurried out after the rest, leaving the officers and women alone. "Silence!" roared Morgan, as his eye fell upon the group entering the lower end of the great hall. "Pipe down, thou bellowing bull!" he shouted, throwing a silver cup that Cellini might have chased, at the head of the half drunken Teach. "Who's there? Scuttle me, 'tis our spitfire and the gallant captain, with that worthy seaman Hornigold! Advance, friends. Thou art welcome to our cheer. Drive them forward, Hornigold," he cried, as he saw Mercedes and Alvarado made no attempt to move. "Advance quickly," whispered Hornigold to Alvarado; "to cross him now were death." Seizing them with a great show of force he shoved them down the hall to the foot of the platform, in front of the revellers. "I welcome thee to our court, fair lady, and you, brave sir. What say ye, gentles all? Rum for the noble captain, here, and wine for the lady," called out Morgan, bowing over the table in malicious mockery. "I drink with no murderer," said Alvarado firmly, thrusting the negro, who proffered him a glass, violently aside with his shoulder, causing him to topple over, drenching himself with the liquor. "Ha! Is it so?" laughed Morgan in a terrible manner. "Hark'ee, my young cock, thou shalt crave and beg and pray for another drink at my hand presently--and get it not. But there is another cup thou shalt drink, ay, and that to the dregs. Back, you! I would speak with the lady. Well, Donna Mercedes," he continued, "art still in that prideful mood?" Silence. The girl stood erect, disdainfully looking him full in the face. "I shall break thee yet, proud wench!" he shouted. "Perhaps the demoiselle is jealous of thy present companion, Sir Captain," sneered de Lussan smoothly in his courtliest manner. "Scuttle me! That's well thought on," laughed Morgan. "And I'll add fuel to the fire." As he spoke he clasped the terrified woman on his right around the waist, and though she struggled and drew away from him in horror and disgust, he kissed her full upon the lips. The woman shuddered loathingly when he released her, put her face down in her hands and sobbed low and bitterly. "What sayest thou to that, sweet Mercedes?" "I say may God have mercy on the soul of yon poor woman," answered Mercedes disdainfully. "Best pray for thine own soul, madam," he roared. "Come hither! What, you move not? Black Dog, Black Dog, I say!" The huge maroon lurched from behind his master's chair, where he had lain half-drunken. "Fetch me that woman!" Mercedes was bound and could not at first release her hands, but as the maroon shambled toward her she sprang back struggling. "Alvarado, Alvarado!" she screamed. "Help me, save me!" Like a maddened bull, though his hands were bound also, Alvarado threw himself upon the negro. The force with which he struck him hurled him backward and the two fell to the floor, the maroon beneath. His head struck a corner of the step with a force that would have killed a white man. In an instant, however, the unbound negro was on his feet. He whipped out his dagger and would have plunged it into the breast of the prostrate Spaniard had not Mercedes, lightly bound, for being a woman they thought it not necessary to be unusually severe in her lashings, wrenched free her hands and caught the half-breed's upraised arm. "Mercy!" she screamed, while struggling to divert the blow, looking toward Morgan. "Hold your hand, Black Dog," answered that worthy. "Leave the man and come hither. This is thy first appeal, lady. You know my power at last, eh? Down on your knees and beg for his life!" Instantly Mercedes sank to her knees and stretched out her hands, a piteous, appealing, lovely figure. "Spare him, spare him!" she cried. "What would you do for him?" "My life for his," she answered bravely. "Nay, Mercedes," interposed Alvarado, "let him work his will on me." "There are worse places, thou seest, lady, than by my side," sneered Morgan. "By heaven, 'twas a pretty play, was it not, mates? I spare him, but remember, 'tis for you. Harry Morgan's way. Now reward me. Hither, I say! Go, you woman!" he struck the woman he had kissed a fierce blow with his naked fist--"Away from me! Your place is needed for your betters. Here lady----" "Captain Morgan," cried Hornigold, suddenly interrupting him. "I bethink me you should send men to seize the mountain pass that leads to Caracas at once, else we may have troops upon us in the morning." It was a bold diversion and yet it succeeded. There could be no safe feasting in La Guayra with that open road. Morgan had overlooked it, but the boatswain's words recalled it to him; for the moment he forgot the prisoners and the women. Safety was a paramount consideration. "I forgot it," he answered. "Curse me, how can I? The villains are too drunk with rum and blood and fury to be despatched." "A force must be assembled at once," urged Hornigold, insistently, "lest some have escaped who would bring word to the Viceroy. He would be upon us in a day with an army too great for resistance. If you intend not to rot here in La Guayra, or be caught in a death trap, we must be up to the mountain top beforehand. Once they seize the pass, we are helpless." "That's well said, Hornigold," cried Morgan, who was not so drunk that he could not realize the practical value of Hornigold's suggestion and the great danger of disregarding his advice. "The pass must be seized at all hazard. With that in our possession we may bide our time. I thought to wait until to-morrow, but you're right. We've feasted and drunk enough for the night. To-morrow Donna de Lara! Guards for the pass now--But how to get them?" He rose to his feet as he spoke and came down the hall. "Teach and L'Ollonois, follow me!" he cried. "Gather up fifty of the soberest men and lead them up the mountain road till you reach the pass, and then hold it till I come. Nay, no hesitation," he roared. "Canst not see the necessity? Unless we are masters of that pass we are caught like rats in a trap here in La Guayra. To-morrow or the next day we shall march up toward Caracas. Your share of the treasure and your women shall be held safe. You shall have first consideration on the other side of the mountains. Nay, I will have it so!" He stamped his foot in furious rage. "We've all had too much drink already," he continued, "now we must make things secure. Hornigold, take charge of this fort. I leave the prisoners with you. Guard them well. Treat the lady well also. Do what you like with the other, only keep him alive. One of you send Braziliano to me. He shall have the other fort. And you and I, Monsieur de Lussan, will take account of the men here in the town and bring them into such order as we can." Although Teach and L'Ollonois had no mind to leave the pleasures open to them in La Guayra, yet they were both men of intelligence and could easily see the absolute necessity for the precaution suggested by Hornigold and accepted by their captain. If they held the passage over the mountains, and fifty men could hold it against a thousand, no Spaniard could come at them. So the little group, leaving the wretched women, the two prisoners, and Hornigold, sallied out into the infernal night. It was a difficult thing for them to find a sufficient number of sober pirates, but by persuading, threatening, and compelling they at last gathered a force of the least drunken knaves, with which they set forth on the road. The fires which had been wantonly kindled in different places by the buccaneers were making such headway that Morgan instantly saw that especial efforts would be needed to prevent the complete destruction of the town. He wanted La Guayra for his base of supplies for the present, and with tremendous energy, seconded by de Lussan and some of the soberer men, he routed out the buccaneers and set them to work. "You have saved me for the moment," said Mercedes, gratefully, turning to Hornigold as he led her away from the hall. "'Twas not for care of you," hissed out the old man, malevolently, "but that I'd fain balk him in every desire he cherishes, even of possessing you." "Whatever it was, I am thankful, señor. You have my prayers----" "Prayers," laughed the old sailor, "it hath been sixty years since I heard those canting Puritans, my mother and father, pray. I want no prayers. But come, I must put you in ward. There should be strong-rooms in this castle." He summoned a slave and found what he wanted. Mercedes, and Señora Agapida, who was fetched by other slaves, were locked in one room, Alvarado was thrust into another. As soon as he could do so, after making some provision for the comfort of the woman, Hornigold came down to him. "Señor," he said, "the band is drunk and helpless. One hundred resolute men could master them. Morgan means to march to Caracas to-morrow. He can not get his men in shape to do so as long as liquor flows in La Guayra. If I set you free, what can you do?" "There is a way over the mountains," answered Alvarado. "A secret way, known only to the Indians." "Know you this path?" "It has been pointed out to me." "Is it a practicable way?" "It has been abandoned for fifty years, but I could follow it to Caracas." "And once there, what then?" "There, if the Viceroy be not gone, and I do not believe he has yet departed, are one thousand soldiers to re-take the city." "And if they be gone?" "I'll raise the citizens, the household guards, the savages, and the slaves!" "Can you do it?" "Free me and see," answered Alvarado, with such resolution that he convinced the sailor. "The men of Caracas love the daughter of the Viceroy. They are not inexperienced in arms. I will lead them. The advantage of numbers will be with us. If you free me, I take it we will have a friend within the walls. Success is certain. We have too much to revenge," he added, his face flushing with rage at the thought of it all. "That's well," answered Hornigold. "If I free you what reward shall I have?" "I will cover you with treasure." "And guarantee my life and liberty?" "They shall be held inviolate." "We captured the Porto Bello plate ship, and were wrecked two days ago a league or so to the westward----" "I saw the ship the day of the storm, but marked it not," interrupted the officer. "Ay. We buried the treasure. Shall I have my share?" "All that thou canst take, if the honor of the lady be preserved. I answer for the Viceroy." "Will you swear it?" "Yes." "By your mother's cross?" "By my mother's cross, I swear. I will keep my faith with you, so help me God!" "I believe in no God, but you do, and that suffices. You shall go," cried the buccaneer, all his objections satisfied. "But as you love the woman, lose no time. I'll be at the west gate under the rocks at ten o'clock to-morrow night. You know it?" "Yes, go on." "I'll open the gate for you and leave the rest to you. You must be there with your force. Now, go." "I shall be there. But I can not leave without Donna Mercedes." "And you can't go with her. Think! Could she make her way over the mountains?" "No, no, but----" "I'll watch over her with my life," urged the One-Eyed. "My share of the treasure depends upon her safety, you said." "But Morgan----" "I hate him with a hatred greater than thine." "He is thy captain." "He betrayed me, and I swore to take such vengeance as was never heard before, to make him suffer such torments by my hand as were never felt outside of hell." "You would betray him?" "It was for that I came with him! for that I live. He craves and covets the Donna Mercedes. He shall not have her. Trust me to interpose at the last moment." "Is this true? Can I believe you?" "Else why should I jeopard my life by freeing you? I hate him, I tell you. Remember! The west gate! There are not three hundred men here. The best fifty have gone with Teach and L'Ollonois, the rest are drunken and cowards. Here are weapons. Wrap yourself in this cloak, and come. Say no word to any one on the way. By Satan, as you love the wench, lose no time!" As he spoke, the old man cut the bonds of Alvarado, belted upon him dagger and sword, thrust a charged pistol in his hand, covered his head with a steel cap, and threw a long cloak around him. The two then went forth into the night. Avoiding the notice of others, they hastened along the deserted parapet, for there were none to keep watch or guard, until they came to one of the ladders by which the buccaneers had entered the town. Down it Alvarado, first swearing again on the cross, on his honor, to respect his agreement with Hornigold and again receiving the man's assurance, dropped hastily to the ground. There was no one to look, and he dashed recklessly across the narrow strip of sand to the shadow of the cliffs, along which he ran until he came opposite the place of his mother's death. The white water was rolling and crashing on the beach, and the body was gone. With a hasty petition for the repose of her soul, he ran on until he reached the turn of the road. There, like the priest, he made another prayer, and it was a prayer not different from that which had been voiced so short a time before. But his petitions were soon over. It was a time for work, not prayer. No moment could be lost. He girded up his loins and turned away on the run. Unlike the priest, however, he did not pursue the mountain road, but, after going a short distance, he left the way and plunged to the right through the trees directly up the side of the hill. His face was cut and slashed by Morgan's dagger; his soul had been racked and torn by the scenes he had gone through; the plight of Mercedes stirred him to the very depths; his heart yearned over the slaughtered garrison, the ruined town, but with a strength superhuman he plunged at the hill, in spite of the forest, groping about in the darkness with frantic energy until he found the traces of a slender, rocky path which led over the mountains. BOOK V HOW THE SPANIARDS RE-TOOK LA GUAYRA AND HOW CAPTAIN ALVARADO FOUND A NAME AND SOMETHING DEARER STILL IN THE CITY CHAPTER XVIII DISCLOSES THE WAY IN WHICH MERCEDES DE LARA FOUGHT WITH WOMAN'S CUNNING AGAINST CAPTAIN HENRY MORGAN The day after the sack of the town had been a busy one for the buccaneers. First of all, Morgan had striven, and with some success, to restore some sort of order within the walls. By the aid of his officers and some of the soberest men he had confiscated all of the liquor that he could come at, and had stored it under a strong guard in the west fort, which he selected as his headquarters. The Governor's palace on the hill above was a more fitting and luxurious residence and it had been promptly seized, the few defenders having fled, in the morning; but for the present Morgan deemed it best to remain in the city and in close touch with his men. The Spanish soldiery had been cut down to a man the night before, and the majority of the hapless citizens had been killed, wounded or tortured. The unfortunates who were yet alive were driven into the church of San Lorenzo, where they were kept without food, water, or attention. There were some children, also, who had survived the night, for the buccaneers, frenzied with slaughter and inflamed with rum, had tossed many of them on their sword-points when they came across them in the streets. By Morgan's orders the living were collected in the store-house and barracks of the Guinea Trading Company, a corporation which supplied slaves to the South American countries, and which had branches in every city on the Caribbean. He did order food and water to be given these helpless unfortunates, so their condition was not quite so deplorable as that of the rest. It was bad enough, however, and the old barracks which had echoed with the sound of many a bitter cry from the forlorn lips of wretched slaves, now resounded with the wailing of these terrified little ones. The condition of the women of the city was beyond description. They, too, were herded together in another building, an ancient convent, but were plentifully supplied with every necessary they could ask for. Death, in lieu of the fate that had come upon them, would have been welcomed by many a high-born dame and her humbler sister as well, but they were all carefully searched and deprived of everything that might serve as a weapon. They were crowded together indiscriminately, high and low, rich and poor, black or white or red, in all states of disorder and disarray, just as they had been seized the night before, some of them having been dragged from their very beds by the brutal ruffians. Some of the women, maddened to frenzy by the treatment they had received, screamed and raved; but most of them were filled with still misery, overwhelmed by silent despair--waiting hopelessly for they knew not what bitter, degrading end. One night had changed them from happy wives, honored mothers, light-hearted, innocent girls, to wrecks of womanhood. The light of life was dead in them. They were dumb and unprotesting. The worst had come upon them; there was nothing of sorrow and shame they had not tasted. What mattered anything else? Their husbands, fathers, children, lovers had gone. Homes were broken up; their property was wasted, and not even honor was left. They prayed to die. It was all that was left to them. The gates of the town and forts were closed and some slight attempt was made to institute a patrol of the walls, although the guard that was kept was negligent to the point of contempt. As no enemy was apprehended Morgan did not rigorously insist upon strict watch. Many of the buccaneers were still sodden with liquor and could be of no service until they were sobered. They were dragged to the barracks, drenched with water, and left to recover as best they could. Fortune favored them in one other matter, too, in that late in the afternoon a handsome frigate bringing despatches from Carthagena, ran in and anchored in the roadstead. Her officers at once came ashore to pay their respects to the Commandante of the port and forward their papers to the Viceroy. Before they suspected anything, they were seized and ruthlessly murdered. To take possession of the frigate thereafter was a work of no special difficulty. The crew were disposed of as their officers had been, and the buccaneers rejoiced greatly at the good luck that had brought them so fine a ship. On the next morning Morgan intended to march toward Caracas, whence, after plundering that town and exacting a huge ransom for the lives of those he spared, he would lead his band back to La Guayra, embark on the frigate, and then bear away for the Isthmus. During the day, Hornigold, whose wound incapacitated him from active movement, remained in command of the fort with special instructions to look after Mercedes. By Morgan's orders she and her companion were removed to the best room in the fort and luxuriously provided for. He had not discovered the escape of Alvarado, partly because he took no manner of interest in that young man and only kept him alive to influence the girl, and partly because Hornigold had assured him that the prisoner was taking his confinement very hardly, that he was mad with anger, in a raging fever of disappointment and anxiety, and was constantly begging to see the captain. The boatswain cunningly suggested that it would be just as well to let Alvarado remain in solitude, without food or water until the next day, by which time, the boatswain argued, he would be reduced to a proper condition of humility and servitude. Morgan found this advice good. It was quite in consonance with his desires and his practices. He would have killed Alvarado out of hand had he not considered him the most favorable card with which to play the game he was waging with Mercedes for her consent to marry him. So far as he was capable of a genuine affection, he loved the proud Spanish maiden. He would fain persuade her willingly to come to his arms rather than enforce her consent or overcome her scruples by brute strength. There would be something of a triumph in winning her, and this vain, bloodstained old brute fancied that he had sufficient attractiveness for the opposite sex to render him invincible if he set about his wooing in the right way. He thought he knew the way, too. At any rate he was disposed to try it. Here again Hornigold, upon whom in the absence of Teach he depended more and more, and in whom he confided as of old, advised him. "I know women," said that worthy, and indeed no man had more knowledge of the class which stood for women in his mind than he, "and all you want is to give her time. Wait until she knows what's happened to the rest of them, and sees only you have power to protect her, and she will come to heel right enough. Besides, you haven't given her half a chance. She's only seen you weapon in hand. She doesn't know what a man you are, Captain. Sink me, if I'd your looks instead of this old, scarred, one-eyed face, there'd be no man I'd give way to and no woman I'd not win! Steer her along gently with an easy helm. Don't jam her up into the wind all of a sudden. Women have to be coaxed. Leave the girl alone a watch. Don't go near her; let her think what she pleases. Don't let anybody go near her unless it's me, and she won't get anything out of me, you can depend upon that! She'll be so anxious to talk to you in the morning that you can make her do anything. Then if you can starve that Spanish dog and break his spirit, so that she'll see him crawling at your feet, she'll sicken of him and turn to a man." "Scuttle me," laughed Morgan, "your advice is good! I didn't know you knew so much about the sex." "I've mixed up considerable with them in sixty years, Captain," leered the old man. "What I don't know about them ain't worth knowing." "It seems so. Well, I'll stay away from her till the morning. I shall be busy anyway trying to straighten out these drunken sots, and do you put the screws on that captain and leave the lady alone--but see that she lacks nothing." "Ay, ay, trust me for them both." Hornigold found means during the day--and it was a matter of no little difficulty to elude the guards he himself had placed there--to inform Mercedes of the escape of Alvarado, and to advise her that he expected the return of that young man with the troops of the Viceroy at ten o'clock that night. He bade her be of good cheer, that he did not think it likely that Morgan would think of calling upon her or of sending for her until morning, when it would be too late. He promised that he would watch over her and do what he could to protect her; that he would never leave the fort except for a few moments before ten that night, when he went to admit Alvarado. What was better earnest of his purpose was that he furnished her with a keen dagger, small enough to conceal in the bosom of her dress, and advised her if worst came to worst, and there was no other way, to use it. He impressed on her that on no account was she to allow Morgan to get the slightest inkling of his communication to her, for if the chief buccaneer found this out Hornigold's life would not be worth a moment's thought, and Alvarado would be balked in his plans of rescue. Mercedes most thankfully received the weapon and promised to respect the confidence. She was grateful beyond measure, and he found it necessary harshly to admonish her that he only assisted her because he had promised Alvarado that she should receive no harm, and that his own safety depended upon hers. He did not say so, but under other circumstances he would have as ruthlessly appropriated her for himself as Morgan intended to do, and without the shadow of a scruple. As far as creature comforts were concerned the two women fared well. Indeed, they were sumptuously, lavishly, prodigally provided for. Señora Agapida was still in a state of complete prostration. She lay helpless on a couch in the apartment and ministering to her distracted the poor girl's mind, yet such a day as Mercedes de Lara passed she prayed she might never again experience. The town was filled with the shouts and cries of the buccaneers wandering to and fro, singing drunken choruses, now and again routing out hidden fugitives from places of fancied security and torturing them with ready ingenuity whenever they were taken. The confusion was increased and the noise diversified by the shrieks and groans of these miserable wretches. Sometimes the voices that came through the high windows were those of women, and the sound of their screams made the heart of the brave girl sink like lead in her breast. For the rest, she did not understand Hornigold's position. She did not know whether to believe him or not, but of one thing was she certain. Whereas she had been defenceless now she had a weapon, and she could use it if necessary. With that in hand she was mistress at least of her own fate. As evening drew on, every thing having been attended to, Morgan began to tire of his isolation, and time hung heavy on his hands. He was weary of the women whom he had hitherto consorted with; the other officers, between whom and himself there was no sort of friendship, were busy with their own nefarious wickednesses in the different parts of the fort or town, and he sat a long time alone in the guardroom, drinking, Black Dog, as usual, pouring at his side. The liquor inflamed his imagination and he craved companionship. Summoning Hornigold at last, he bade him bring Donna Mercedes before him. The old man attempted to expostulate, but Morgan's mood had changed and he brooked no hesitation in obeying any order given by him. There was nothing for the boatswain to do but to comply. Once more Mercedes, therefore, found herself in the guardroom of the fort in the presence of the man she loathed and feared above all others in creation. Her situation, however, was vastly different from what it had been. On the first occasion there had appeared no hope. Now Alvarado was free and she had a weapon. She glanced at the clock, a recent importation from Spain hanging upon the wall, as she entered, and saw that it was half-after nine. Ten was the hour Hornigold had appointed to meet Alvarado at the gate. She hoped that he would be early rather than late; and, if she could withstand the buccaneer by persuasion, seeming compliance, or by force, for a short space, all would be well. For she never doubted that her lover would come for her. Even if he had to come single-handed and alone to fight for her, she knew he would be there. Therefore, with every nerve strained almost to the breaking point to ward off his advances and to delay any action he might contemplate, she faced the buccaneer. He was dressed with barbaric magnificence in the riches and plunder he had appropriated, and he had adorned his person with a profusion of silver and gold, and stolen gems. He had been seated at the table while served by the maroon, but, as she entered, with unusual complaisance he arose and bowed to her with something of the grace of a gentleman. "Madam," he said, endeavoring to make soft and agreeable his harsh voice, "I trust you have been well treated since in my charge." He had been drinking heavily she saw, but as he spoke her fair she would answer him accordingly. To treat him well, to temporize, and not to inflame his latent passion by unnecessarily crossing him, would be her best policy, she instantly divined, although she hated and despised him none the less. On his part, he had determined to try the gentler arts of persuasion, and though his face still bore the welts made by her riding whip the night before he strove to forget it and play the gentleman. He had some qualities, as a buccaneer, that might entitle him to a certain respect, but when he essayed the gentleman his performance was so futile that had it not been so terrible it would have been ludicrous. She answered his question calmly without exhibiting resentment or annoyance. "We have been comfortably lodged and provided with food and drink in sufficiency, señor." "And what more would you have, Donna Mercedes?" "Liberty, sir!" "That shall be yours. Saving only my will, when you are married to me, you shall be as free as air. A free sailor and his free wife, lady. But will you not sit down?" In compliance with his request, she seated herself on a chair which happened to be near where she stood; she noted with relief that the table was between them. "Nay, not there," said the Captain instantly. "Here, madam, here, at my side." "Not yet, señor capitan; it were not fit that a prisoner should occupy so high a seat of honor. Wait until----" "Until what, pray?" he cried, leaning forward. "Until that--until I--until we----" In spite of her efforts she could not force her lips to admit the possibility of the realization of his desire. "Until you are Lady Morgan?" he cried, his face flaming. She buried her face in her hands at his suggestion, for she feared her horror in the thought would show too plainly there; and then because she dare not lose sight of him, she constrained herself to look at him once more. Her cheeks were burning with shame, her eyes flashing with indignation, though she forced her lips into the semblance of a smile. "That surprises you, does it?" continued the man with boasting condescension. "You did not think I designed so to honor you after last night, madam? Scuttle me, these"--pointing to his face--"are fierce love taps, but I fancy a strong will--when I can break it to mine own," he muttered, "and I have yet to see that in man or woman that could resist mine." She noted with painful fascination the powerful movements of his lean fingers as he spoke, for his sinewy right hand, wrinkled and hideous, lay stretched out on the table before him, and he clasped and unclasped it unconsciously as he made his threat. "I like you none the less for your spirit, ma'am. 'Fore God, it runs with your beauty. You are silent," he continued, staring at her with red-eyed, drunken suspicion. "You do not answer?" "My lord," cried Mercedes, "I know not what to say." "Say, 'Harry Morgan, I love you and I am yours.'" "There is another present, señor." "Where? Another? Who has dared--" roared the buccaneer glaring about him. "Thy servant--the negro." "Oh," he laughed, "he is nothing. Black Dog, we call him. He is my slave, my shadow, my protection. He is always by." An idea had swiftly flashed into the young girl's mind. If she could get rid of the slave she could deal more easily with the master. She was tall, strong, and Morgan, it appeared, was not in full possession of his faculties or his strength from the liquor he had imbibed. "Still," she urged, "I do not like to be wooed in the presence of another, even though he be a slave. 'Tis not a Spanish maiden's way, sir." "Your will now, lady," said the buccaneer, with a hideous attempt at gallantry, "is my law. Afterwards--'twill be another matter. Out, Carib, but be within call. Now, madam, we are alone. Speak you the English tongue?" The conversation had been carried on in Spanish heretofore. "Indifferently, señor." "Well, I'll teach it you. The lesson may as well begin now. Say after me, 'Harry'--I permit that though I am a belted knight of England, made so by His Merry Majesty, King Charles, God rest him. Drink to the repose of the king!" he cried, shoving a cup across the table toward her. Resisting a powerful temptation to throw it at him, and divining that the stimulant might be of assistance to her in the trying crisis in which she found herself, the girl lifted the cup to her lips, bowed to him, and swallowed a portion of the contents. "Give it back to me!" he shouted. "You have tasted it, I drain it. Now the lesson. Say after me, 'Harry Morgan'----" "Harry Morgan," gasped the girl. "'I love thee.'" With a swift inward prayer she uttered the lying words. "You have learned well, and art an apt pupil indeed," he cried, leering upon her in approbation and lustful desire--- his very gaze was pollution to her. "D'ye know there are few women who can resist me when I try to be agreeable? Harry Morgan's way!" he laughed again. "There be some that I have won and many I have forced. None like you. So you love me? Scuttle me, I thought so. Ben Hornigold was right. Woo a woman, let her be clipped willingly in arms--yet there's a pleasure in breaking in the jades, after all. Still, I'm glad that you are in a better mood and have forgot that cursed Spaniard rotting in the dungeons below, in favor of a better man, Harry--no, I'll say, Sir Henry--Morgan--on this occasion, at your service," he cried, rising again and bowing to her as before. She looked desperately at the clock. The hour was close at hand. So great was the strain under which she was laboring that she felt she could not continue five minutes longer. Would Alvarado never come? Would anybody come? She sat motionless and white as marble, while the chieftain stared at her in the pauses of his monologue. "Now, madam, since you have spoke the words perhaps you will further wipe out the recollection of this caress--" he pointed to his cheek again. "Curse me!" he cried in sudden heat, "you are the only human being that ever struck Harry Morgan on the face and lived to see the mark. I'd thought to wait until to-morrow and fetch some starveling priest to play his mummery, but why do so? We are alone here--together. There is none to disturb us. Black Dog watches. You love me, do you not?" "I--I--" she gasped out, brokenly praying for strength, and fighting for time. "You said it once, that's enough. Come, lady, let's have happiness while we may. Seal the bargain and kiss away the blows." He came around the table and approached her. Notwithstanding the quantity of liquor he had taken he was physically master of himself, she noticed with a sinking heart. As he drew near, she sprang to her feet also and backed away from him, throwing out her left hand to ward him off, at the same time thrusting her right hand into her bosom. "Not now," she cried, finding voice and word in the imminence of the peril. "Oh, for God's sake----" "Tis useless to call on God in Harry Morgan's presence, mistress, for he is the only God that hears. Come and kiss me, thou black beauty--and then--" "To-morrow, for Christ's sake!" cried the girl. "I am a Christian--I must have a priest--not now--to-morrow!" She was backed against the wall and could go no further. "To-night," chuckled the buccaneer. He was right upon her now. She thrust him, unsuspicious and unprepared, violently from her, whipped out the dagger that Hornigold had given her, and faced him boldly. It was ten o'clock and no one had yet appeared. The struck hour reverberated through the empty room. Would Alvarado never come? Had it not been that she hoped for him she would have driven the tiny weapon into her heart at once, but for his sake she would wait a little longer. "Nay, come no nearer!" she cried resolutely. "If you do, you will take a dead woman in your arms. Back, I say!" menacing herself with the point. And the man noted that the hand holding the weapon did not tremble in the least. "Thinkest thou that I could love such a man as thou?" she retorted, trembling with indignation, all the loathing and contempt she had striven to repress finding vent in her voice. "I'd rather be torn limb from limb than feel even the touch of thy polluting hand!" "Death and fury!" shouted Morgan, struggling between rage and mortification, "thou hast lied to me then?" "A thousand times--yes! Had I a whip I'd mark you again. Come within reach and I will drive the weapon home!" She lifted it high in the air and shook it in defiance as she spoke. It was a frightful imprudence, for which she paid dearly, however, for the hangings parted and Carib, who had heard what had gone on, entered the room--indeed, the voices of the man and woman filled with passion fairly rang through the hall. His quick eye took in the situation at once. He carried at his belt a long, heavy knife. Without saying a word, he pulled it out and threw it with a skill born of long practice, which made him a master at the game, fairly at the woman's uplifted hand. Before either Morgan or Mercedes were aware of his presence they heard the whistle of the heavy blade through the air. At the same moment the missile struck the blade of the dagger close to the palm of the woman and dashed it from her hand. Both weapons rebounded from the wall from the violence of the blow and fell at Morgan's feet. Mercedes was helpless. "Well done, Carib!" cried Morgan exultantly. "Never has that old trick of thine served me better. Now, you she-devil--I have you in my power. Didst prefer death to Harry Morgan? Thou shalt have it, and thy lover, too. I'll tear him limb from limb and in thy presence, too, but not until after----" "Oh, God! oh, God!" shrieked Mercedes, flattening herself against the wall, shrinking from him with wide outstretched arms as he approached her. "Mercy!" "I know not that word. Wouldst cozen me? Hast another weapon in thy bodice? I'll look." Before she could prevent him he seized her dress at the collar with both hands and, in spite of her efforts, by a violent wrench tore it open. "No weapon there," he cried. "Ha! That brings at last the color to your pale cheek!" he added, as the rich red crimsoned the ivory of her neck and cheek at this outrage. "Help, help!" she screamed. Her voice rang high through the apartment with indignant and terrified appeal. "Call again," laughed Morgan. "Kill me, kill me!" she begged. "Nay, you must live to love me! Ho! ho!" he answered, taking her in his arms. "Mercy! Help!" she cried in frenzy, all the woman in her in arms against the outrage, though she knew her appeal was vain, when, wonder of wonders---- "I heard a lady's voice," broke upon her ears from the other end of the room. "De Lussan!" roared Morgan, releasing her and turning toward the intruder. "Here's no place for you. How came you here? I'd chosen this room for myself, I wish to be private. Out of it, and thank me for your life!" "I know not why you should have Donna de Lara against her will, and when better men are here," answered the Frenchman, staring with bold, cruel glances at her, beautiful in her disarray, "and if you keep her you must fight for her. Mademoiselle," he continued, baring his sword gracefully and saluting her, "will you have me for your champion?" [Illustration: "Hast another weapon in thy bodice?"] His air was as gallant as if he had been a gentleman and bound in honor to rescue a lady in dire peril of life and honor, instead of another ruffian inflamed by her beauty and desirous to possess her himself. "Save me! Save me," she cried, "from this man!" She did not realize the meaning of de Lussan's words, she only saw a deliverer for the present. It was ten minutes past the hour now. She welcomed any respite; her lover might come at any moment. "I will fight the both of you for her," cried the Frenchman; "you, Black Dog, and you, Master Morgan. Draw, unless you are a coward." "I ought to have you hanged, you mutinous hound!" shouted Morgan, "and hanged you shall be, but not until I have proved myself your master with the sword, as in all other things. Watch the woman, Carib, and keep out of this fray. Lay hand on her at your peril! Remember, she is mine." "Or it may be mine," answered de Lussan, as Morgan dashed at him. They engaged without hesitation and the room was filled with the sound of ringing, grating steel. First pulling the pins from her glorious hair, Mercedes shook it down around her bare shoulders, and then stood, fascinated, watching the fencers. She could make no movement from the wall as the negro stood at her arm. For a space neither of the fighters had any advantage. De Lussan's skill was marvelous, but the chief buccaneer was more than his match. Presently the strength and capacity of the older and more experienced swordsman began to give him a slight advantage. Hard pressed, the Frenchman, still keeping an inexorable guard, slowly retreated up the room. Both men had been so intensely occupied with the fierce play that they had not heard the sound of many feet outside, a sudden tumult in the street. The keen ear of the half-breed, however, detected that something was wrong. "Master," he cried, "some one comes. I hear shouts in the night air. A shot! Shrieks--groans! There! The clash of arms! Lower your weapons, sirs!" he cried again, as Spanish war cries filled the air. "We are betrayed; the enemy is on us!" Instantly Morgan and de Lussan broke away from each other. "To-morrow," cried the buccaneer captain. "As you will," returned the other. But now, Mercedes, staking all upon her hope, lifted her voice, and with tremendous power begot by fear and hope sent ringing through the air that name which to her meant salvation-- "Alvarado! Alvarado!" CHAPTER XIX HOW CAPTAIN ALVARADO CROSSED THE MOUNTAINS, FOUND THE VICEROY, AND PLACED HIS LIFE IN HIS MASTER'S HANDS The highway between La Guayra and Venezuela was exceedingly rough and difficult, and at best barely practicable for the stoutest wagons. The road wound around the mountains for a distance of perhaps twenty-five miles, although as the crow flies it was not more than five miles between the two cities. Between them, however, the tremendous ridge of mountains rose to a height of nearly ten thousand feet. Starting from the very level of the sea, the road crossed the divide through a depression at an altitude of about six thousand feet and descended thence some three thousand feet to the valley in which lay Caracas. This was the road over which Alvarado and Mercedes had come and on the lower end of which they had been captured. It was now barred for the young soldier by the detachment of buccaneers under young Teach and L'Ollonois, who were instructed to hold the pass where the road crossed through, or over, the mountains. Owing to the configuration of the pass, that fifty could hold it against a thousand. It was not probable that news of the sack of La Guayra would reach Caracas before Morgan descended upon it, but to prevent the possibility, or to check any movement of troops toward the shore, it was necessary to hold that road. The man who held it was in position to protect or strike either city at will. It was, in fact, the key to the position. Morgan, of course, counted upon surprising the unfortified capital as he had the seaport town. It was the boast of the Spaniards that they needed no walls about Caracas, since nature had provided them with the mighty rampart of the mountain range, which could not be surmounted save in that one place. With that one place in the buccaneer's possession, Caracas could only rely upon the number and valor of her defenders. To Morgan's onslaught could only be opposed a rampart of blades and hearts. Had there been a state of war in existence it is probable that the Viceroy would have fortified and garrisoned the pass, but under present conditions nothing had been done. As soon as a messenger from Teach informed Morgan that the pass had been occupied and that all seemed quiet in Caracas, a fact which had been learned by some bold scouting on the farther side of the mountain, he was perfectly easy as to the work of the morrow. He would fall upon the unwalled town at night and carry everything by a _coup de main_. Fortunately for the Spaniards in this instance, it happened that there was another way of access to the valley of Caracas from La Guayra. Directly up and over the mountain there ran a narrow and difficult trail, known first to the savages and afterwards to wandering smugglers or masterless outlaws. Originally, and until the Spaniards made the wagon road, it had been the only way of communication between the two towns. But the path was so difficult and so dangerous that it had long since been abandoned, even by the classes which had first discovered and traveled it. These vagabonds had formerly kept it in such a state of repair that it was fairly passable, but no work had been done on it for nearly one hundred years. Indeed, in some places, the way had been designedly obliterated by the Spanish Government about a century since, after one of the most daring exploits that ever took place in the new world. Ninety years before this incursion by the buccaneers, a bold English naval officer, Sir Amyas Preston, after seizing La Guayra, had captured Caracas by means of this path. The Spaniards, apprised of his descent upon their coasts, had fortified the mountain pass but had neglected this mountain trail, as a thing impracticable for any force. Preston, however, adroitly concealing his movements, had actually forced his men to ascend the trail. The ancient chroniclers tell of the terrific nature of the climb, how the exhausted and frightened English sailors dropped upon the rocks, appalled by their dangers and worn out by their hardships, how Preston and his officers forced them up at the point of the sword until finally they gained the crest and descended into the valley. They found the town unprotected, for all its defenders were in the pass, seized it, held it for ransom, then, sallying forth, took the surprised Spanish troops in the pass in the rear and swept them away. After this exploit some desultory efforts had been made by the Spaniards to render the trail still more impracticable with such success as has been stated, and it gradually fell into entire disuse. By nearly all the inhabitants its very existence had been forgotten. It was this trail that Alvarado determined to ascend. The difficulties in his way, even under the most favorable circumstances, might well have appalled the stoutest-hearted mountaineer. In the darkness they would be increased a thousand-fold. He had not done a great deal of mountain climbing, although every one who lived in Venezuela was more or less familiar with the practice; but he was possessed of a cool head, an unshakable nerve, a resolute determination, and unbounded strength, which now stood him in good stead. And he had back of him, to urge him, every incentive in the shape of love and duty that could move humanity to godlike deed. Along the base of the mountain the trail was not difficult although it was pitch-dark under the trees which, except where the mighty cliffs rose sheer in the air like huge buttresses of the range, covered the mountains for the whole expanse of their great altitude, therefore he made his way upward without trouble or accident at first. The moon's rays could not pierce the density of the tropic foliage, of course, but Alvarado was very familiar with this easier portion of the way, for he had often traversed it on hunting expeditions, and he made good progress for several hours in spite of the obscurity. It had been long past midnight when he started, and it was not until daybreak that he passed above the familiar and not untrodden way and entered upon the most perilous part of his journey. The gray dawn revealed to him the appalling dangers he must face. Sometimes clinging with iron grasp to pinnacles of rock, he swung himself along the side of some terrific precipice, where the slightest misstep meant a rush into eternity upon the rocks a thousand feet below. Sometimes he had to spring far across great gorges in the mountains that had once been bridged by mighty trunks of trees, long since moldered away. Sometimes there was nothing for him to do but to scramble down the steep sides of some dark cañon and force himself through cold torrential mountain streams that almost swept him from his feet. Again his path lay over cliffs green with moss and wet with spray, which afforded most precarious support to his grasping hands or slipping feet. Sometimes he had to force a way through thick tropic undergrowth that tore his clothing into rags. Had he undertaken the ascent in a mere spirit of adventure he would have turned back long since from the dangers he met and surmounted with such hardship and difficulty; but he was sustained by the thought of the dreadful peril of the woman he loved, the remembrance of the sufferings of the hapless townspeople, and a consuming desire for revenge upon the man who had wrought this ruin on the shore. With the pale, beautiful face of Mercedes to lead him, and by contrast the hateful, cruel countenance of Morgan to force him, ever before his vision, the man plunged upward with unnatural strength, braving dangers, taking chances, doing the impossible--and Providence watched over him. It was perhaps nine o'clock in the morning when he reached the summit--breathless, exhausted, unhelmed, weaponless, coatless, in rags; torn, bruised, bleeding, but unharmed--and looked down on the white city of Caracas set in its verdant environment like a handful of pearls in a goblet of emerald. He had wondered if he would be in time to intercept the Viceroy, and his strained heart leaped in his tired breast when he saw, a few miles beyond the town on the road winding toward the Orinoco country, a body of men. The sunlight blazing from polished helms or pointed lance tips proclaimed that they were soldiers. He would be in time, thank God! With renewed vigor, he scrambled down the side of the mountain--and this descent fortunately happened to be gentle and easy--and running with headlong speed, he soon drew near the gate of the palace. He dashed into it with reckless haste, indifferent to the protests of the guard, who did not at first recognize in the tattered, bloody, wounded, soiled specimen of humanity his gay and gallant commander. He made himself known at once, and was confirmed in his surmise that the Viceroy had set forth with his troops early in the morning and was still in reaching distance on the road. [Illustration: ... he reached the summit--breathless, exhausted, unhelmed, weaponless, coatless, in rags; torn, bruised, bleeding, but unharmed.] Directing the best horse in the stables to be brought to him, after snatching a hasty meal while it was being saddled, and not even taking time to re-clothe himself, he mounted and galloped after. An hour later he burst through the ranks of the little army and reined in his horse before the astonished Viceroy, who did not recognize in this sorry cavalier his favorite officer, and stern words of reproof for the unceremonious interruption of the horseman broke from his lips until they were checked by the first word from the young captain. "The buccaneers have taken La Guayra and sacked it!" gasped Alvarado hoarsely. "Alvarado!" cried the Viceroy, recognizing him as he spoke. "Are you mad?" "Would God I were, my lord." "The buccaneers?" "Morgan--all Spain hates him with reason--led them!" "Morgan! That accursed scourge again in arms? Impossible! I don't understand!" "The very same! 'Tis true! 'tis true! Oh, your Excellency----" "And my daughter----" "A prisoner! For God's love turn back the men!" "Instantly!" cried the Viceroy. He was burning with anxiety to hear more, but he was too good a soldier to hesitate as to the first thing to be done. Raising himself in his stirrups he gave a few sharp commands and the little army, which had halted when he had, faced about and began the return march to Caracas at full speed. As soon as their manoeuvres had been completed and they moved off, the Viceroy, who rode at the head with Alvarado and the gentlemen of his suite, broke into anxious questioning. "Now, Captain, but that thou art a skilled soldier I could not believe thy tale." "My lord, I swear it is true!" "And you left Donna Mercedes a prisoner?" interrupted de Tobar, who had been consumed with anxiety even greater than that of the Viceroy. "Alas, 'tis so." "How can that be when you are free, señor?" "Let me question my own officer, de Tobar," resumed the Viceroy peremptorily, "and silence, all, else we learn nothing. Now, Alvarado. What is this strange tale of thine?" "My lord, after we left you yesterday morning we made the passage safely down the mountain. Toward evening as we approached La Guayra, just before the point where the road turns into the strand, we were set upon by men in ambush. The soldiers and attendants were without exception slain. Although I fought and beat down one or two of our assailants, they struck me to the earth and took me alive. The two ladies and I alone escaped. No indignity was offered them. I was bound and we were led along the road to a camp. There appeared to be some three hundred and fifty men under the leadership of a man who claimed to be Sir Henry Morgan, sometime pirate and robber, later Vice-Governor of Jamaica, now, as I gathered, in rebellion against his king and in arms against us. They captured the plate galleon with lading from Porto Bello and Peru, and were wrecked on this coast to the westward of La Guayra. They had determined upon the capture of that town, whence they expected to move on Caracas." "And Mercedes?" again interrupted the impetuous and impassioned de Tobar. "Let him tell his tale!" commanded the Viceroy, sternly. "It behooves us, gentlemen, to think first of the cities of our King." "They had captured a band of holy nuns and priests. These were forced, especially the women, by threats you can imagine, to plant scaling ladders against the walls, and, although the troops made a brave defense, the buccaneers mastered them. They carried the place by storm and sacked it. When I left it was burning in several places and turned into a hell." "My God!" ejaculated the old man, amid the cries and oaths of his fierce, infuriated men. "And now tell me about Mercedes." "Morgan--who met her, you remember, when we stopped at Jamaica on our return from Madrid?" "Yes, yes!" "He is in love with her. He wanted to make her his wife. Therefore he kept her from the soldiery." In his eagerness the Viceroy reined in his horse, and the officers and men, even the soldiers, stopped also and crowded around the narrator. "Did he--did he--O Holy Mother have pity upon me!" groaned the Viceroy. "He did her no violence save to kiss her, while I was by." "And you suffered it!" shouted de Tobar, beside himself with rage. "What did she then?" asked the old man, waving his hand for silence. "She struck him in the face again and again with her riding-whip. I was bound, señors. I broke my bonds, struck down one of the guards, wrested a sword from another, and sprang to defend her. But they overpowered me. Indeed, they seized the lady and swore to kill her unless I dropped my weapon." "Death," cried de Lara, "would have been perhaps a fitting end for her. What more?" "We were conveyed into the city after the sack. He insulted her again with his compliments and propositions. He sent a slave to fetch her, but, bound as I was, I sprang upon him and beat him down." "And then?" "Then one of his men, an ancient, one-eyed sailor, interfered and bade him look to the town, else it would be burned over his head, and urged him to secure the pass. In this exigency the pirate desisted from his plan against the lady. He sent Donna Mercedes to a dungeon, me to another." "How came you here, sir, and alone?" asked de Tobar, again interrupting, and this time the Viceroy, pitying the agony of the lover, permitted the question. "Did you, a Spanish officer, leave the lady defenseless amid those human tigers?" "There was nothing else to do, Don Felipe. The sailor who interfered, he set me free. I did refuse to leave without the señorita. He told me I must go without her or not at all. He promised to protect her honor or to kill her--at least to furnish her with a weapon. To go, to reach you, your Excellency, was the only chance for her. Going, I might save her; staying, I could only die." "You did rightly. I commend you," answered the veteran. "Go on." "My lord, I thank you. The way over the road was barred by the party that had seized the pass." "And how came you?" "Straight over the mountain, sir." "What! The Indian trail? The English way?" "The same." "What next?" "At ten to-night, the sailor who released me will open the city gate, the west gate, beneath the shadow of the cliffs--we must be there!" "But how? Can we take the pass? It is strongly held, you say." "My lord, give me fifty brave men who will volunteer to follow me. I will lead them back over the trail and we will get to the rear of the men holding the pass. Do you make a feint at engaging them in force in front and when their attention is distracted elsewhere we will fall on and drive them into your arms. By this means we open the way. Then we will post down the mountains with speed and may arrive in time. Nay, we must arrive in time! Hornigold, the sailor, would guarantee nothing beyond to-night. The buccaneers are drunk with liquor; tired out with slaughter. They will suspect nothing. We can master the whole three hundred and fifty of them with five score men." "Alvarado," cried the Viceroy, "thou hast done well. I thank thee. Let us but rescue my daughter and defeat these buccaneers and thou mayest ask anything at my hands--saving one thing. Gentlemen and soldiers, you have heard the plan of the young captain. Who will volunteer to go over the mountains with him?" Brandishing their swords and shouting with loud acclaim the great body of troopers pressed forward to the service. Alvarado, who knew them all, rapidly selected the requisite number, and they fell in advance of the others. Over them the young captain placed his friend de Tobar as his second in command. "'Tis bravely done!" cried the Viceroy. "Now prick forward to the city, all. We'll refresh ourselves in view of the arduous work before us and then make our further dispositions." The streets of Caracas were soon full of armed men preparing for their venture. As soon as the plight of La Guayra and the Viceroy's daughter became known there was scarcely a civilian, even, who did not offer himself for the rescue. The Viceroy, however, would take only mounted men, and of these only tried soldiers. Alvarado, whom excitement and emotion kept from realizing his fatigue, was provided with fresh apparel, after which he requested a private audience for a moment or two with the Viceroy, and together they repaired to the little cabinet which had been the scene of the happenings the night before. "Your Excellency," began the young man, slowly, painfully, "I could not wait even the hoped-for happy issue of our plans to place my sword and my life in your hands." "What have you done?" asked the old man, instantly perceiving the seriousness of the situation from the anguish in his officer's look and voice. "I have broken my word--forfeited my life." "Proceed." "I love the Donna Mercedes----" "You promised to say nothing--to do nothing." "That promise I did not keep." "Explain." "There is nothing to explain. I was weak--it was beyond my strength. I offer no excuse." "You urge nothing in extenuation?" "Nothing." "'Twas deliberately done?" "Nay, not that; but I----" "S'death! What did you?" "I told her that I loved her, again----" "Shame! Shame!" "I took her into my arms once more----" "Thou double traitor! And she----" "My lord, condemn her not. She is young--a woman." "I do not consider Captain Alvarado, a dishonored soldier, my proper mentor. I shall know how to treat my daughter. What more?" "Nothing more. We abandoned ourselves to our dream, and at the first possible moment I am come to tell you all--to submit----" "Hast no plea to urge?" persisted the old man. "None." "But your reason? By God's death, why do you tell me these things? If thou art base enough to fall, why not base enough to conceal?" "I could not do so, your Excellency. I am not master of myself when she is by--'tis only when away from her I see things in their proper light. She blinds me. No, sir," cried the unhappy Alvarado, seeing a look of contempt on the grim face of the old general, "I do not urge this in defense, but you wanted explanation." "Nothing can explain the falsehood of a gentleman, the betrayal of a friend, the treachery of a soldier." "Nothing--hence I am here." "Perhaps I have estimated you too highly," went on the old man musingly. "I had hoped you were gentle--but base blood must run in your veins." "It may be," answered the young man brokenly, and then he added, as one detail not yet told, "I have found my mother, sir." "Thy mother? What is her condition?" cried the Viceroy, in curious and interested surprise that made him forget his wrath and contempt for the moment. "She was an abbess of our Holy Church. She died upon the sands of La Guayra by her own hand rather than surrender her honor or lend aid to the sack of the town." "That was noble," interrupted the old de Lara. "I may be mistaken after all. Yet 'twere well she died, for she will not see----" He paused significantly. "My shame?" asked Alvarado. "Thy death, señor, for what you have done. No other punishment is meet. Did Donna Mercedes send any message to me?" Alvarado could not trust himself to speak. He bowed deeply. "What was it?" The young man stood silent before him. "Well, I will learn from her own lips if she be alive when we come to the city. I doubt not it will excuse thee." "I seek not to shelter myself behind a woman." "That's well," said the old man. "But now, what is to be done with thee?" "My lord, give me a chance, not to live, but to die honestly. Let me play my part this day as becomes a man, and when Donna Mercedes is restored to your arms----" "Thou wilt plead for life?" "Nay, as God hears me, I will not live dishonored. Life is naught to me without the lady. I swear to thee----" "You have given me your word before, sir," said the old man sternly. "On this cross--it was my mother's," he pulled from his doublet the silver crucifix and held it up. "I will yield my life into your hands without question then, and acclaim before the world that you are justified in taking it. Believe me----" "Thou didst betray me once." "But not this time. Before God--by Christ, His Mother, by my own mother, dead upon the sands, by all that I have hoped for, by my salvation, I swear if I survive the day I will go gladly to my death at your command!" "I will trust you once more, thus far. Say naught of this to any one. Leave me!" "Your Excellency," cried the young man, kneeling before him, "may God reward you!" He strove to take the hand of the old man, but the latter drew it away. "Even the touch of forsworn lips is degradation. You have your orders. Go!" Alvarado buried his face in his hands, groaned bitterly, and turned away without another word. CHAPTER XX WHEREIN MASTER TEACH, THE PIRATE, DIES BETTER THAN HE LIVED [Illustration] It was nearing eleven o'clock in the morning when, after a hurried conference in the patio with the Viceroy and the others, Alvarado and de Tobar marched out with their fifty men. They had discarded all superfluous clothing; they were unarmored and carried no weapons but swords and pistols. In view of the hard climb before them and the haste that was required, they wished to be burdened as lightly as possible. Their horses were brought along in the train of the Viceroy's party which moved out upon the open road to the pass at the same time. These last went forward with great ostentation, the forlorn hope secretly, lest some from the buccaneers might be watching. The fifty volunteers were to ascend the mountain with all speed, make their way along the crest as best they could, until they came within striking distance of the camp of the pirates. Then they were to conceal themselves in the woods there and when the Viceroy made a feigned attack with the main body of his troops from the other side of the mountain, they were to leave their hiding-place and fall furiously upon the rear of the party. Fortunately, they were not required to ascend such a path as that Alvarado had traversed on the other side, for there were not fifty men in all Venezuela who could have performed that tremendous feat of mountaineering. The way to the summit of the range and thence to the pass was difficult, but not impossible, and they succeeded after an hour or two of hard climbing in reaching their appointed station, where they concealed themselves in the woods, unobserved by Teach's men. The Viceroy carried out his part of the programme with the promptness of a soldier. Alvarado's men had scarcely settled themselves in the thick undergrowth beneath the trees whence they could overlook the buccaneers in camp on the road below them, before a shot from the pirate sentry who had been posted toward Caracas called the fierce marauders to arms. They ran to the rude barricade they had erected covering the pass and made preparation for battle. Soon the wood was ringing with shouts and cries and the sound of musketry. Although Teach was a natural soldier and L'Ollonois an experienced and prudent commander, they took no precaution whatever to cover their rear, for such a thing as an assault from that direction was not even dreamed of. Alvarado and de Tobar, therefore, led their men forward without the slightest opposition. Even the noise they made crashing through the undergrowth was lost in the sound of the battle, and attracted no attention from the enemy. It was not until they burst out into the open road and charged forward, cheering madly, that the buccaneers realized their danger. Some of them faced about, only to be met by a murderous discharge from the pistols of the forlorn hope, and the next moment the Spaniards were upon them. The party holding the pass were the picked men, veterans, among the marauders. They met the onset with tremendous courage and crossed blades in the smoke like men, but at the same instant the advance guard of the main army sprang at the barricade and assaulted them vigorously from the other side. The odds were too much for the buccaneers, and after a wild mêlée in which they lost heavily, the survivors gave ground. The road immediately below the pass opened on a little plateau, back of which rose a precipitous wall of rock. Thither such of the buccaneers as were left alive hastily retreated. There were perhaps a dozen men able to use their weapons; among them Teach was the only officer. L'Ollonois had been cut down by de Tobar in the first charge. The Spaniards burst through the pass and surrounded the buccaneers. The firearms on both sides had all been discharged, and in the excitement no one thought of reloading; indeed, with the cumbersome and complicated weapons then in vogue there was no time, and the Spaniards, who had paid dearly for their victory, so desperate had been the defence of the pirates, were fain to finish this detachment in short order. "Yield!" cried Alvarado, as usual in the front ranks of his own men. "You are hopelessly overmatched," pointing with dripping blade to his own and the Viceroy's soldiers as he spoke. "Shall we get good quarter?" called out Teach. A splendid specimen he looked of an Englishman at bay, in spite of his wicked calling, standing with his back against the towering rock, his bare and bloody sword extended menacingly before him, the bright sunlight blazing upon his sunny hair, his blue eyes sparkling with battle-lust and determined courage. Quite the best of the pirates, he! "You shall be hung like the dogs you are," answered Alvarado sternly. "We'd rather die sword in hand, eh, lads?" "Ay, ay." "Come on, then, señors," laughed the Englishman gallantly, saluting with his sword, "and see how bravely we English can die when the game is played and we have lost." Though his cause was bad and his life also, his courage was magnificent. Under other circumstances it would have evoked the appreciation of Alvarado and some consideration at his hands. Possibly he might even have granted life to the man, but memory of the sights of the night before in that devastated town six thousand feet below their feet, and the deadly peril of his sweetheart banished pity from his soul. This man had been the right hand of Morgan; he was, after the captain, the ablest man among the buccaneers. He must die, and it would be a mercy to kill him out of hand, anyway. "Forward, gentlemen!" he cried, and instantly the whole mass closed in on the pirates. Such a fight as Teach and his men made was marvellous. For each life the Spaniards took the pirates exacted a high price, but the odds were too great for any human valor, however splendid, to withstand, and in a brief space the last of the buccaneers lay dying on the hill. Teach was game to the last. Pierced with a dozen wounds, his sword broken to pieces, he lifted himself on his elbow, and with a smile of defiance gasped out the brave chorus of the song of the poet of London town: "Though life now is pleasant and sweet to the sense, We'll be damnably mouldy a hundred years hence." "Tell Morgan," he faltered, "we did not betray--faithful to the end----" And so he died as he had lived. "A brave man!" exclaimed de Tobar with some feeling in his voice. "But a black-hearted scoundrel, nevertheless," answered Alvarado sternly. "Had you seen him last night----" "Ye have been successful, I see, gentlemen," cried the Viceroy, riding up with the main body. "Where is Alvarado?" "I am here, your Excellency." "You are yet alive, señor?" "My work is not yet complete," answered the soldier, "and I can not die until--I--Donna Mer--" "Bring up the led horses," interrupted the Viceroy curtly. "Mount these gentlemen. Let the chirurgeons look to the Spanish wounded." "And if there be any buccaneers yet alive?" asked one of the officers. "Toss them over the cliff," answered the Viceroy; "throw the bodies of all the carrion over, living or dead. They pollute the air. Form up, gentlemen! We have fully twenty-five miles between us and the town which we must reach at ten of the clock. 'Twill be hard riding. Alvarado, assemble your men and you and de Tobar lead the way, I will stay farther back and keep the main body from scattering. We have struck a brave blow first, and may God and St. Jago defend us further. Forward!" CHAPTER XXI THE RECITAL OF HOW CAPTAIN ALVARADO AND DON FELIPE DE TOBAR CAME TO THE RESCUE IN THE NICK OF TIME [Illustration] Old Hornigold had kept his promise, and Alvarado had kept his as well. It was a few minutes before ten when the first Spanish horsemen sprang from their jaded steeds at the end of the road. In that wild race down the mountains, Alvarado had ridden first with de Tobar ever by his side. None had been able to pass these two. The Viceroy had fallen some distance behind. For one reason, he was an old man, and the pace set by the lovers was killing. For another and a better, as he had said, he thought it desirable to stay somewhat in the rear to keep the men closed up; but the pace even of the last and slowest had been a tremendous one. Sparing neither themselves nor their horses, they had raced down the perilous way. Some of them had gone over the cliffs to instant destruction; others had been heavily thrown by the stumbling horses. Some of the horses had given out under the awful gallop and had fallen exhausted, but when the riders were unhurt they had joined the foot soldiers marching after the troopers as fast they could. Alvarado's soldierly instincts had caused him to halt where the road opened upon the sand, for he and de Tobar and the two or three who kept near them could do nothing alone. They were forced to wait until a sufficient force had assembled to begin the attack. He would have been there before the appointed time had it not been for this imperative delay, which demonstrated his capacity more than almost anything else could have done, for he was burning to rush to the rescue of Mercedes. Indeed, he had been compelled to restrain by force the impetuous and undisciplined de Tobar, who thought of nothing but the peril of the woman he adored. There had been a fierce altercation between the two young men before the latter could be persuaded that Alvarado was right. Each moment, however, added to the number of the party. There was no great distance between the first and last, and after a wait of perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, some one hundred and fifty horsemen were assembled. The Viceroy had not come up with the rest, but they were sure he would be along presently, and Alvarado would wait no longer. Bidding the men dismount lest they should be observed on horseback, and stationing one to acquaint the Viceroy with his plans, he divided his troop into three companies, he and de Tobar taking command of one and choosing the nearest fort as their objective point. Captain Agramonte, a veteran soldier, was directed to scour the town, and Lieutenant Nuñez, another trusted officer, was ordered to master the eastern fort on the other side. They were directed to kill every man whom they saw at large in the city, shooting or cutting down every man abroad without hesitation, for Alvarado rightly divined that all the inhabitants would be penned up in some prison or other and that none would be on the streets except the buccaneers. There were still enough pirates in the city greatly to outnumber his force, but many of them were drunk and all of them, the Spaniard counted, would be unprepared. The advantage of the surprise would be with his own men. If he could hold them in play for twenty minutes the Viceroy with another detachment would arrive, and thereafter the end would be certain. They could take prisoners then and reserve them for torture and death--some meet punishment for their crimes. Those necessary preparations were made with the greatest speed, the men were told off in their respective companies, and then, keeping close under the shadow of the cliff for fear of a possible watcher, they started forward. Since ten old Ben Hornigold had been hidden in an arched recess of the gateway waiting their arrival. He had thought, as the slow minutes dragged by, that Alvarado had failed, and he began to contrive some way by which he could account for his escape to Morgan in the morning, when the captain would ask to have him produced, but the arrival of the Spaniards relieved his growing anxiety. "Donna Mercedes?" asked Alvarado of the old boatswain, as he entered the gate. "Safe when I left her in the guardroom with Morgan--and armed. If you would see her alive----" "This way----" cried Alvarado, dashing madly along the street toward the fort. Every man had his weapons in hand, and the little party had scarcely gone ten steps before they met a buccaneer. He had been asleep when he should have watched, and had just been awakened by the sound of their approach. He opened his mouth to cry out, but Alvarado thrust his sword through him before he could utter a sound. The moonlight made the street as light as day, and before they had gone twenty steps farther, turning the corner, they came upon a little party of the pirates. An immediate alarm was given by them. The Spaniards brushed them aside by the impetuosity of their onset, but on this occasion pistols were brought in play. Screams and cries followed the shots, and calls to arms rang through the town. But by this time the other companies were in the city, and they were making terrible havoc as they ran to their appointed stations. The buccaneers came pouring from the houses, most of them arms in hand. It could not be denied that they were ready men. But the three attacks simultaneously delivered bewildered them. The streets in all directions seemed full of foes. The advantage of the surprise was with the Spanish. The pirates were without leadership for the moment and ran aimlessly to and fro, not knowing where to rally; yet little bands did gather together instinctively, and these began to make some headway against the Spanish soldiery. Even the cowards fought desperately, for around every neck was already the feel of a halter. Alvarado and de Tobar soon found themselves detached from their company. Indeed, as the time progressed and the buccaneers began to perceive the situation they put up a more and more stubborn and successful opposition. They rallied in larger parties and offered a stout resistance to the Spanish charges. Disregarding their isolation, the two young officers ran to the fort. Fortunately the way in that direction was not barred. The solitary sentry at the gateway attempted to check them, but they cut him down in an instant. As they mounted the stair they heard, above the shrieks and cries and shots of the tumult that came blowing in the casement with the night wind, the sound of a woman's screams. "Mercedes!" cried de Tobar. "It is she!" They bounded up the stairs, overthrowing one or two startled men who would have intercepted them, and darted to the guardroom. They tore the heavy hangings aside and found themselves in a blaze of light in the long apartment. Two men confronted them. Back of the two, against the wall, in a piteous state of disorder and terror, stood the woman they both loved. In front of her, knife in hand, towered the half-breed. "Treason, treason!" shouted Morgan furiously. "We are betrayed! At them, de Lussan!" As he spoke the four men crossed swords. De Tobar was not the master of the weapon that the others were. After a few rapid parries and lunges the Frenchman had the measure of his brave young opponent. Then, with a laugh of evil intent, by a clever play he beat down the Spaniard's guard, shattering his weapon, and with a thrust as powerful as it was skilful, he drove the blade up to the hilt in poor de Tobar's bosom. The gallant but unfortunate gentleman dropped his own sword as he fell, and clasped his hands by a convulsive effort around the blade of de Lussan. Such was the violence of his grasp that he fairly hugged the sword to his breast, and when he fell backward upon the point the blade snapped. He was done for. Morgan and Alvarado, on the other hand, were more equally matched. Neither had gained an advantage, although both fought with energy and fury. Alvarado was silent, but Morgan made the air ring with shouts and cries for his men. As the swords clashed, Carib raised his hand to fling his knife at Alvarado, but, just as the weapon left his fingers, Mercedes threw herself upon him. The whizzing blade went wild. With a savage oath he seized a pistol and ran toward the Spaniard, who was at last getting the better of the Captain. A cry from Mercedes warned Alvarado of this new danger. Disengaging suddenly, he found himself at sword's point with de Lussan, who had withdrawn his broken weapon from de Tobar's body and was menacing him with it. With three opponents before him he backed up against the wall and at last gave tongue. "To me!" he cried loudly, hoping some of his men were within call. "Alvarado!" As he spoke Morgan closed with him once more, shouting: "On him, de Lussan! Let him have it, Black Dog! We've disposed of one!" As the blades crossed again, the desperate Spaniard, who was a swordsman of swordsmen, put forth all his power. There was a quick interchange of thrust and parry, and the weapon went whirling from the hand of the chief buccaneer. Quick as thought Alvarado shortened his arm and drove home the stroke. Morgan's life trembled in the balance. The maroon, however, who had been seeking a chance to fire, threw himself between the two men and received the force of the thrust full in the heart. His pistol was discharged harmlessly. He fell dead at his master's feet without even a groan. No more would Black Dog watch behind the old man's chair. He had been faithful to his hideous leader and his hideous creed. Before Alvarado could recover his guard, de Lussan struck him with his broken sword. The blow was parried by arm and dagger, but the force of it sent the Spaniard reeling against the wall. At the same instant Morgan seized a pistol and snapped it full in his face. The weapon missed fire, but the buccaneer, clutching the barrel, beat him down with a fierce blow. "So much for these two," he roared. "Let's to the street." De Lussan seized Alvarado's sword, throwing away his own. Morgan picked up his own blade again, and the two ran from the room. A stern fight was being waged in the square, whither all the combatants had congregated, the buccaneers driven there, the Spaniards following. The disciplined valor and determination of the Spanish, however, were slowly causing the buccaneers to give ground. No Spanish soldiers that ever lived could have defeated the old-time buccaneers, but these were different, and their best men had been killed with Teach and L'Ollonois. The opportune arrival of Morgan and de Lussan, however, put heart in their men. Under the direction of these two redoubtable champions they began to make stouter resistance. The battle might have gone in their favor if, in the very nick of time, the Viceroy himself and the remainder of the troops had not come up. They had not thought it necessary to come on foot since the surprise had been effected, and the Viceroy rightly divined they would have more advantage if mounted. Choosing the very freshest horses therefore, he had put fifty of the best soldiers upon them and had led them up on a gallop, bidding the others follow on with speed. The fighting had gradually concentrated before the church and in the eastern fort, where Braziliano had his headquarters. The arrival of the horsemen decided the day. Morgan and de Lussan, fighting desperately in the front ranks with splendid courage, were overridden. De Lussan was wounded, fell, and was trampled to death by the Spanish horsemen, and Morgan was taken prisoner, alive and unharmed. When he saw that all was lost, he had thrown himself upon the enemy, seeking a death in the fight, which, by the Viceroy's orders, was denied him. Many of the other buccaneers also were captured alive; indeed, the Viceroy desired as many of them saved as possible. He could punish a living man in a way to make him feel something of the torture he had inflicted, and for this reason those who surrendered had been spared for the present. Indeed, after the capture of Morgan the remaining buccaneers threw down their arms and begged for mercy. They might as well have appealed to a stone wall for that as to their Spanish captors. A short shrift and a heavy punishment were promised them in the morning. Meanwhile, after a brief struggle, the east fort was taken by assault, and Braziliano was wounded and captured with most of his men. The town was in the possession of the Spanish at last. It was all over in a quarter of an hour. Instantly the streets were filled with a mob of men, women, and children, whose lives had been spared, bewildered by the sudden release from their imminent peril and giving praise to God and the Viceroy and his men. As soon as he could make himself heard in the confusion de Lara inquired for Alvarado. "Where is he?" he cried. "And de Tobar?" "My lord," answered one of the party, "we were directed to take the west fort and those two cavaliers were in the lead, but the pressure of the pirates was so great that we were stopped and have not seen them since. They were ahead of us." "De Cordova," cried the old man to one of his colonels, "take charge of the town. Keep the women and children and inhabitants together where they are for the present. Let your soldiery patrol the streets and search every house from top to bottom. Let no one of these ruffianly scoundrels escape. Take them alive. We'll deal with them in the morning. Fetch Morgan to the west fort after us. Come, gentlemen, we shall find our comrades there, and pray God the ladies have not yet--are still unharmed!" A noble old soldier was de Lara. He had not sought his daughter until he had performed his full duty in taking the town. The anteroom of the fort they found in a state of wild confusion. The dead bodies of the sentry and the others the two cavaliers had cut down on the stairs were ruthlessly thrust aside, and the party of gentlemen with the Viceroy in the lead poured into the guardroom. There, on his back, was stretched the hideous body of the half-breed where he had fallen. There, farther away, the unfortunate de Tobar lay, gasping for breath yet making no outcry. He was leaning on his arm and staring across the room, with anguish in his face not due to the wound he had received but to a sight which broke his heart. "Alas, de Tobar!" cried the Viceroy. "Where is Mercedes?" He followed the glance of the dying man. There at the other side of the room lay a prostrate body, and over it bent a moaning, sobbing figure. It was Mercedes. "Mercedes!" cried the Viceroy running toward her. "Alvarado!" "Tell me," he asked in a heartbreaking voice. "Art thou----" "Safe yet and--well," answered the girl; "they came in the very nick of time. Oh, Alvarado, Alvarado!" she moaned. "Señorita," cried one of the officers, "Don Felipe here is dying. He would speak with you." Mercedes suffered herself to be led to where de Tobar lay upon the floor. One of his comrades had taken his head on his knee. The very seconds of his life were numbered. Lovely in her grief Mercedes knelt at his side, a great pity in her heart. The Viceroy stepped close to him. "I thank you, too," she said. "Poor Don Felipe, he and you saved me, but at the expense of your lives. Would God you could have been spared!" "Nay," gasped the dying man, "thou lovest him. I--watched thee. I heard thee call upon his name. Thou wert not for me, and so I die willingly. He is a noble gentleman. Would he might have won thee!" The man trembled with the violent effort it cost him to speak. He gasped faintly and strove to smile. By an impulse for which she was ever after grateful, she bent her head, slipped her arm around his neck, lifted him up, and kissed him. In spite of his death agony, at that caress he smiled up at her. "Now," he murmured, "I die happy--content--you kissed--me--Jesu--Mercedes----" It was the end of as brave a lover, as true a cavalier as ever drew sword or pledged hand in a woman's cause. "He is dead," said the officer. "God rest his soul, a gallant gentleman," said the Viceroy, taking off his hat, and his example was followed by every one in the room. "And Captain Alvarado?" said Mercedes, rising to her feet and turning to the other figure. "Señorita," answered another of the officers, "he lives." "Oh, God, I thank Thee!" "See--he moves!" A little shudder crept through the figure of the prostrate Captain, who had only been knocked senseless by the fierce blow and was otherwise unhurt. "His eyes are open! Water, quick!" With skilled fingers begot by long practice the cavalier cut the lacings of Alvarado's doublet and gave him water, then a little wine. As the young Captain returned to consciousness, once more the officers crowded around him, the Viceroy in the centre, Mercedes on her knees again. "Mercedes," whispered the young Captain. "Alive--unharmed?" "Yes," answered Mercedes brokenly, "thanks to God and thee." "And de Tobar," generously asserted Alvarado. "Where is he?" "Dead." "Oh, brave de Tobar! And the city----" "Is ours." "And Morgan?" "Here in my hands," said the Viceroy sternly. "Thank God, thank God! And now, your Excellency, my promise. I thought as I was stricken down there would be no need for you to----" "Thou hast earned life, Alvarado, not death, and thou shalt have it." "Señors," said Alvarado, whose faintness was passing from him, "I broke my plighted word to the Viceroy and Don Felipe de Tobar. I love this lady and was false to my charge. Don Alvaro promised me death for punishment, and I crave it. I care not for life without----" "And did he tell thee why he broke his word?" asked Mercedes, taking his hands in her own and looking up at her father. "It was my fault. I made him. In despair I strove to throw myself over the cliff on yonder mountain and he caught me in his arms. With me in his arms--Which of you, my lords," she said, throwing back her head with superb pride, "would not have done the same? Don Felipe de Tobar is dead. He was a gallant gentleman, but I loved him not. My father, you will not part us now?" "No," said the old man, "I will not try. I care not now what his birth or lineage, he hath shown himself a man of noblest soul. You heard the wish of de Tobar. It shall be so. This is the betrothal of my daughter, gentlemen. Art satisfied, Captain? She is noble enough, she hath lineage and race enough for both of you. My interest with our royal master will secure you that patent of nobility you will adorn, for bravely have you won it." CHAPTER XXII IN WHICH SIR HENRY MORGAN SEES A CROSS, CHERISHES A HOPE, AND MAKES A CLAIM [Illustration] These noble and generous words of the Viceroy put such heart into the young Spanish soldier that, forgetting his wounds and his weakness, he rose to his feet. Indeed, the blow that struck him down had stunned him rather than anything else, and he would not have been put out of the combat so easily had it not been that he was exhausted by the hardships of those two terrible days through which he had just passed. The terrific mountain climb, the wild ride, the fierce battle, his consuming anxiety for the woman he loved--these things had so wearied him that he had been unequal to the struggle. The stimulants which had been administered to him by his loving friends had been of great service also in reviving his strength, and he faced the Viceroy, his hand in that of Mercedes, with a flush of pleasure and pride upon his face. Yet, after all, it was the consciousness of having won permission to marry the woman whom he adored and who loved him with a passion that would fain overmatch his own, were that possible, that so quickly restored him to strength. With the realization of what he had gained there came to him such an access of vigor as amazed those who a few moments before had thought him dead or dying. "But for these poor people who have so suffered, this, my lord," he exclaimed with eager gratitude and happiness, "hath been a happy day for me. Last night, sir, on the beach yonder, I found a mother. A good sister, she, of Holy Church, who, rather than carry the ladders which gave access to the town, with the fearful alternative of dishonor as a penalty for refusal, killed herself with her own hand. She died not, praise God, before she had received absolution from a brave priest, although the holy father paid for his office with his life, for Morgan killed him. To-night I find, by the blessing of God, the favor of your Excellency and the kindness of the lady's heart--a wife." He dropped upon his knees as he spoke and pressed a long, passionate kiss upon the happy Mercedes' extended hand. "Lady," he said, looking up at her, his soul in his eyes, his heart in his voice, "I shall strive to make myself noble for thee, and all that I am, and shall be, shall be laid at thy feet." "I want not more than thyself, Señor Alvarado," answered the girl bravely before them all, her own cheeks aglow with happy color. "You have enough honor already. You satisfy me." "Long life to Donna de Lara and Captain Alvarado!" cried old Agramonte, lifting up his hand. "The handsomest, the noblest, the bravest pair in New Spain! May they be the happiest! Give me leave, sir," added the veteran captain turning to the Viceroy. "You have done well. Say I not true, gentlemen? And as for the young captain, as he is fit to stand with the best, it is meet that he should win the heart of the loveliest. His mother he has found. None may know his father----" "Let me be heard," growled a deep voice in broken Spanish, as the one-eyed old sailor thrust himself through the crowd. "Hornigold, by hell!" screamed the bound buccaneer captain, who had been a silent spectator of events from the background. "I missed you. Have you----" The boatswain, mindful of his safety, for in the hurry and confusion of the attack any Spaniard would have cut him down before he could explain, had followed hard upon the heels of Alvarado and de Tobar when they entered the fort and had concealed himself in one of the inner rooms until he saw a convenient opportunity for disclosing himself. He had been a witness to all that had happened in the hall, and he realized that the time had now come to strike the first of the blows he had prepared against his old captain. That in the striking, he wrecked the life and happiness of those he had assisted for his own selfish purpose mattered little to him. He had so long brooded and thought upon one idea, so planned and schemed to bring about one thing, that a desire for revenge fairly obsessed him. As soon as he appeared from behind the hangings where he had remained in hiding, it was evident to every one that he was a buccaneer. Swords were out in an instant. "What's this?" cried the Viceroy in great surprise. "Another pirate free and unbound? Seize him!" Three or four of the men made a rush toward the old buccaneer, but with wonderful agility he avoided them and sprang to the side of Alvarado. "Back, señors!" he cried coolly and composedly, facing their uplifted points. "My lord," said Alvarado, "bid these gentlemen withdraw their weapons. This man is under my protection." "Who is he?" "He I told you of, sir, who set me free, provided Donna Mercedes with a weapon, opened the gate for us. One Benjamin Hornigold." "Thou damned traitor!" yelled that fierce, high voice on the outskirts of the crowd. There was a sudden commotion. A bound man burst through the surprised cavaliers and threw himself, all fettered though he was, upon the sailor. He was without weapon or use of hand, yet he bit him savagely on the cheek. "Hell!" he cried, as they pulled him away and dragged him to his feet, "had I a free hand for a second you'd pay! As it is, I've marked you, and you'll carry the traitor's brand until you die! Curse you, whatever doom comes to me, may worse come to you!" The old buccaneer was an awful figure, as he poured out a horrible torrent of curses and imprecations upon the traitor, grinding his teeth beneath his foam-flecked lips, and even the iron-hearted sailor, striving to staunch the blood, involuntarily shrank back appalled before him. "Señor," he cried, appealing to Alvarado, "I was to have protection!" "You shall have it," answered the young soldier, himself shrinking away from the traitor, although by his treason he had so greatly benefited. "My lord, had it not been for this man, I'd still be a prisoner, the lady Mercedes like those wretched women weeping in the streets. I promised him, in your name, protection, immunity from punishment, and liberty to depart with as much of the treasure of the Porto Bello plate galleon, which was wrecked on the sands a few days ago, of which I told you, as he could carry." "And you did not exceed your authority, Captain Alvarado. We contemn treason in whatsoever guise it doth appear, and we hate and loathe a traitor, but thy word is passed. It will be held inviolate as our own. You are free, knave. I will appoint soldiers to guard you, for should my men see you, not knowing this, they would cut you down; and when occasion serves you may take passage in the first ship that touches here and go where you will. Nay, we will be generous, although we like you not. We are much indebted to you. We have profited by what we do despise. We would reward you. Ask of me something that I may measure my obligation for a daughter's honor saved, if you can realize or feel what that may be." "My lord, hear me," said the boatswain quickly. "There be reasons and reasons for betrayals, and I have one. This man was my captain. I perilled my life a dozen times to save his; I followed him blindly upon a hundred terrible ventures; I lived but for his service. My soul--when I had a soul--was at his command; I loved him. Ay, gentlemen, rough, uncouth, old though I am, I loved this man. He could ask of me anything that I could have given him and he would not have been refused. "Sirs, there came to me a young brother of mine, not such as I, a rude, unlettered sailor, but a gentleman--and college bred. There are quarterings on my family scutcheon, sirs, back in Merry England, had I the wit or care to trace it. He was a reckless youth, chafing under the restraints of that hard religion to which we had been born. The free life of a brother-of-the-coast attracted him. He became like me, a buccaneer. I strove to dissuade him, but without avail. He was the bravest, the handsomest, the most gallant of us all. He came into my old heart like a son. We are not all brute, gentlemen. I have waded in blood and plunder like the rest, but in every heart there is some spot that beats for things better. I divided my love between him and my captain. This man"--he pointed to his old master with his blunted finger, drawing himself up until he looked taller than he was, his one eye flashing with anger and hatred, as with a stern, rude eloquence he recited his wrongs, the grim indictment of a false friend--"this man betrayed us at Panama. With what he had robbed his comrades of he bought immunity, even knighthood, from the King of England. He was made Vice-Governor of Jamaica and his hand fell heavily upon those who had blindly followed him in the old days, men who had served him and trusted him, as I--men whose valor and courage had made him what he was. "He took the lad I loved, and because his proud spirit would not break to his heavy hand and he answered him like the bold, free sailor he was, he hanged him like a dog, sirs! I--I--stooped for his life. I, who cared not for myself, offered to stand in his place upon the gallows platform, though I have no more taste for the rope than any of you, if only he might go free. He laughed at me! He mocked me! I urged my ancient service--he drove me from him with curses and threats like a whipped dog. I could have struck him down then, but that I wanted to save him for a revenge that might measure my hate, slow and long and terrible. Not mere sudden death, that would not suffice. Something more. "Treachery? My lord, his was the first. I played his own game and have overcome it with the same. D'ye blame me now? Take your treasure! I want none of it. I want only him and my revenge! Liberty's dear to all of us. I'll give mine up. You may take my life with the rest, but first give me this man. Let me deal with him. I will revenge you all, and when I have finished with him I will yield myself to you." He was a hideous figure of old hate and rancor, of unslaked passion, of monstrous possibilities of cruel torture. Hardened as they were by the customs of their age to hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness, the listeners turned cold at such an exhibition of malefic passion, of consuming hatred. Even Morgan himself, intrepid as he was, shrank from the awful menace of the mordant words. "My lord!" shouted the unfortunate captain, "give him no heed. He lies in his throat; he lies a thousand times. 'Twas a mutinous dog, that brother of his, that I hanged. I am your prisoner. You are a soldier. I look for speedy punishment, certain death it may be, but let it not be from his hand." "Think, señors," urged the boatswain; "you would hang him perhaps. It is the worst that you could do. Is that punishment meet for him? He has despoiled women, bereft children, tortured men, in the streets of La Guayra. A more fitting punishment should await him. Think of Panama, of Maracaibo, of Porto Bello! Recall what he did there. Is hanging enough? Give him to me. Let me have my way. You have your daughter, safe, unharmed, within the shelter of her lover's arms. The town is yours. You have won the fight. 'Twas I that did it. Without me your wives, your children, your subjects, would have been slaughtered in Caracas and this dog would have been free to go further afield for prey. He coveted your daughter--would fain make her his slave in some desert island. Give him to me!" "Old man," said the Viceroy, "I take back my words. You have excuse for your betrayal, but your request I can not grant. I have promised him to Alvarado. Nay, urge me no further. My word is passed." "Thank you, thank you!" cried Morgan, breathing again. "Silence, you dog!" said the Viceroy, with a look of contempt on his face. "But take heart, man," he added, as he saw the look of rage and disappointment sweep over the face of the old sailor, "he will not escape lightly. Would God he had blood enough in his body to pay drop by drop for all he hath shed. His death shall be slow, lingering, terrible. You have said it, and you shall see it, too, and you will. He shall have time to repent and to think upon the past. You may glut yourself with his suffering and feed fat your revenge. 'Twill be a meet, a fitting punishment so far as our poor minds can compass. We have already planned it." "You Spanish hounds!" roared Morgan stoutly, "I am a subject of England. I demand to be sent there for trial." "You are an outlaw, sir, a man of no country, a foe to common humanity, and taken in your crimes. Silence, I say!" again cried the old man. "You pollute the air with your speech. Take him away and hold him safe. To-morrow he shall be punished." "Without a trial?" screamed the old buccaneer, struggling forward. "Thou art tried already. Thou hast been weighed in the balances and found wanting. Alvarado, art ready for duty?" "Ready, your Excellency," answered the young man, "and for this duty." "Take him then, I give him into your hands. You know what is to be done; see you do it well." "Ay, my lord. Into the strong-room with him, men!" ordered the young Spaniard, stepping unsteadily forward. As he did so the crucifix he wore, which the disorder in his dress exposed to view, flashed into the light once more. Morgan's eyes fastened upon it for the first time. "By heaven, sir!" he shouted. "Where got ye that cross?" "From his mother, noble captain," interrupted Hornigold, coming closer. He had another card to play. He had waited for this moment, and he threw back his head with a long, bitter laugh. There was such sinister, such vicious mockery and meaning in his voice, with not the faintest note of merriment to relieve it, that his listeners looked aghast upon him. "His mother?" cried Morgan. "Then this is----" He paused. The assembled cavaliers, Mercedes, and Alvarado stood with bated breath waiting for the terrible boatswain's answer. "The boy I took into Cuchillo when we were at Panama," said Hornigold in triumph. "And my son!" cried the old buccaneer with malignant joy. A great cry of repudiation and horror burst from the lips of Alvarado. The others stared with astonishment and incredulity written on their faces. Mercedes moved closer to her lover and strove to take his hand. "My lords and gentlemen, hear me," continued the buccaneer, the words rushing from his lips in his excitement, for in the new relationship he so promptly and boldly affirmed, he thought he saw a way of escape from his imminent peril. "There lived in Maracaibo a Spanish woman, Maria Zerega, who loved me. By her there was a child--mine--a boy. I took them with me to Panama. The pestilence raged there after the sack. She fell ill, and as she lay dying besought me to save the boy. I sent Hornigold to her with instructions to do her will, and he carried the baby to the village of Cuchillo with that cross upon his breast and left him. We lost sight of him. There, the next day, you found him. He has English blood in his veins. He is my son, sirs, a noble youth," sneered the old man. "Now you have given me to him. 'Tis not meet that the father should suffer at the hands of the son. You shall set me free," added the man, turning to Alvarado. "Rather than that--" cried Hornigold, viciously springing forward knife in hand. He was greatly surprised at the bold yet cunning appeal of his former captain. "Back, man!" interposed the Viceroy. "And were you a thousand times his father, were you my brother, my own father, you should, nevertheless, die, as it hath been appointed." "Can this be true?" groaned Alvarado, turning savagely to Hornigold. "I believe it to be." "Why not kill me last night then?" "I wanted you for this minute. 'Tis a small part of my revenge. To see him die and by his son's hand--A worthy father, noble son----" "Silence!" shouted de Lara. "Art thou without bowels of compassion, man! Alvarado, I pity thee, but this makes the promise of the hour void. Nay, my daughter"--as Mercedes came forward to entreat him--"I'd rather slay thee with my own hand than wed thee to the son of such as yon!" "My lord, 'tis just," answered Alvarado. His anguish was pitiful to behold. "I am as innocent of my parentage as any child, yet the suffering must be mine. The sins of the fathers are visited on the children. I did deem it yesterday a coward's act to cut the thread of my life but now--I cannot survive--I cannot live--and know that in my veins--runs the blood of such a monster. My lord, you have been good to me. Gentlemen, you have honored me. Mercedes, you have loved me--O God! You, infamous man, you have fathered me. May the curse of God, that God whom you mock, rest upon you! My mother loved this man once, it seems. Well, nobly did she expiate. I go to join her. Pray for me. Stay not my hand. Farewell!" He raised his poniard. "Let no one stop him," cried the old Viceroy as Alvarado darted the weapon straight at his own heart. "This were the best end." Mercedes had stood dazed during this conversation, but with a shriek of horror, as she saw the flash of the blade, she threw herself upon her lover, and strove to wrench the dagger from him. "Alvarado!" she cried, "whatever thou art, thou hast my heart! Nay, slay me first, if thou wilt." CHAPTER XXIII HOW THE GOOD PRIEST FRA ANTONIO DE LAS CASAS TOLD THE TRUTH, TO THE GREAT RELIEF OF CAPTAIN ALVARADO AND DONNA MERCEDES, AND THE DISCOMFITURE OF MASTER BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD AND SIR HENRY MORGAN [Illustration] "Ay, strike, Alvarado," cried the Viceroy, filled with shame and surprise at the sight of his daughter's extraordinary boldness, "for though I love her, I'd rather see her dead than married to the son of such as he. Drive home your weapon!" he cried in bitter scorn. "Why stay your hand? Only blood can wash out the shame she hath put upon me before you all this day. Thou hast a dagger. Use it, I say!" "Do you hear my father's words, Alvarado?" cried Mercedes sinking on her knees and stretching up her hands to him. "'Tis a sharp weapon. One touch will end it all, and you can follow." "God help me!" cried the unhappy young Captain, throwing aside the poniard and clasping his hands to his eyes. "I cannot! Hath no one here a point for me? If I have deserved well of you or the State, sir, bid them strike home." "Live, young sir," interrupted Morgan, "there are other women in the world. Come with me and----" "If you are my father, you have but little time in this world," interrupted the Spaniard, turning to Morgan and gnashing his teeth at him. "I doubt not but you were cruel to my mother. I hate you! I loathe you! I despise you for all your crimes! And most of all for bringing me into the world. I swear to you, had I the power, I'd not add another moment to your life. The world were better rid of you." "You have been well trained by your Spanish nurses," cried Morgan resolutely, although with sneering mockery and hate in his voice, "and well you seem to know the duty owed by son to sire." "You have done nothing for me," returned the young soldier, "you abandoned me. Such as you are you were my father. You cast me away to shift for myself. Had it not been for these friends here----" "Nay," said Morgan, "I thought you dead. That cursed one-eyed traitor there told me so, else I'd sought you out." [Illustration: "God help me!" cried Alvarado, throwing aside the poniard, "I cannot!"] "Glad am I that you did not, for I have passed my life where no child of yours could hope to be--among honorable men, winning their respect, which I now forfeit because of thee." "Alvarado," said the Viceroy, "this much will I do for thee. He shall be shot like a soldier instead of undergoing the punishment we had designed for him. This much for his fatherhood." "My lord, I ask it not," answered the young man. "Sir," exclaimed Morgan, a gleam of relief passing across his features, for he knew, of course, that death was his only expectation, and he had greatly feared that his taking off would be accompanied by the most horrible tortures that could be devised by people who were not the least expert in the practice of the unmentionable cruelties of the age, "you, at least, are a father, and I thank you." "Yes, I am a father and a most unhappy one," groaned de Lara, turning toward Alvarado. "Perhaps it is well you did not accomplish your purpose of self-destruction after all, my poor friend. As I said before, Spain hath need of you. You may go back to the old country beyond the great sea. All here will keep your secret; my favor will be of service to you even there. You can make a new career with a new name." "And Mercedes?" asked Alvarado. "You have no longer any right to question. Ah, well, it is just that you should hear. The girl goes to a convent; the only cloak for her is in our Holy Religion--and so ends the great race of de Laras!" "No, no," pleaded Mercedes, "send me not there! Let me go with him!" She stepped nearer to him, beautiful and beseeching. "My father," she urged, "you love me." She threw her arms around his neck and laid her head upon his breast. Upon it her father tenderly pressed his hand. "You loved my mother, did you not?" she continued. "Think of her. Condemn me not to the living death of a convent--away from him. If that man be his father--and I can not believe it, there is some mistake, 'tis impossible that anything so foul should bring into the world a man so noble--yet I love him! You know him. You have tried him a thousand times. He has no qualities of his base ancestry. His mother at least died like a Spanish gentlewoman. My lords, gentlemen, some of you have known me from my childhood. You have lived in our house and have followed the fortunes of my father--you have grown gray in our service. Intercede for me!" "Your Excellency," said old Don Cæsar de Agramonte, a man, who, as Mercedes had said, had literally grown gray in the service of the Viceroy, and who was man of birth scarcely inferior to his own, "the words of the Lady Mercedes move me profoundly. By your grace's leave, I venture to say that she hath spoken well and nobly, and that the young Alvarado, whom we have seen in places that try men's souls to the extreme, hath always comported himself as a Spanish gentleman should. This may be a lie. But if it is true, his old association with you and yours, and some humor of courage and fidelity and gentleness that I doubt not his mother gave him, have washed out the taint. Will you not reconsider your words? Give the maiden to the man. I am an old soldier, sir, and have done you some service. I would cheerfully stake my life to maintain his honor and his gentleness at the sword's point." "He speaks well, Don Alvaro," cried Captain Gayoso, another veteran soldier. "I join my plea to that of my comrade, Don Cæsar." "And I add my word, sir." "And I, mine." "And I, too," came from the other men of the suite. "Gentlemen, I thank you," said Alvarado, gratefully looking at the little group; "this is one sweet use of my adversity. I knew not I was so befriended----" "You hear, you hear, my father, what these noble gentlemen say?" interrupted Mercedes. "But," continued Alvarado sadly, "it is not meet that the blood of the princely de Laras should be mingled with mine. Rather the ancient house should fall with all its honors upon it than be kept alive by degradation. I thank you, but it can not be." "Your Excellency, we humbly press you for an answer," persisted Agramonte. "Gentlemen--and you have indeed proven yourselves generous and gentle soldiers--I appreciate what you say. Your words touch me profoundly. I know how you feel, but Alvarado is right. I swear to you that I would rather let my line perish than keep it in existence by such means. Rather anything than that my daughter should marry--forgive me, lad--the bastard son of a pirate and buccaneer, a wicked monster, like that man!" "Sir," exclaimed a thin, faint old voice from the outskirts of the room, "no base blood runs in the veins of that young man. You are all mistaken." "Death and fury!" shouted Morgan, who was nearer to him, "it is the priest! Art alive? Scuttle me, I struck you down--I do not usually need to give a second blow." "Who is this?" asked de Lara. "Back, gentlemen, and give him access to our person." The excited men made way for a tall, pale, gaunt figure of a man clad in the habit of a Dominican. As he crossed his thin hands on his breast and bowed low before the Viceroy, the men marked a deeply scarred wound upon his shaven crown, a wound recently made, for it was still raw and open. The man tottered as he stood there. "'Tis the priest!" exclaimed Hornigold, who had been a silent and disappointed spectator of the scene at last. "He lives then?" "The good father!" said Mercedes, stepping from her father's side and scanning the man eagerly. "He faints! A chair for him, gentlemen, and wine!" "Now, sir," said the Viceroy as the priest seated himself on a stool which willing hands had placed for him, after he had partaken of a generous draught of wine, which greatly refreshed him, "your name?" "Fra Antonio de Las Casas, your Excellency, a Dominican, from Peru, bound for Spain on the plate galleon, the _Almirante Recalde_, captured by that man. I was stricken down by his blow as I administered absolution to the mother of the young captain. I recovered and crawled into the woods for concealment, and when I saw your soldiers, your Excellency, I followed, but slowly, for I am an old man and sore wounded." "Would that my blow had bit deeper, thou false priest!" roared Morgan in furious rage. "Be still!" commanded the old Viceroy sternly. "Speak but another word until I give you leave and I'll have you gagged! You said strange words, Holy Father, when you came into the hall." "I did, my lord." "You heard----" "Some of the conversation, sir, from which I gathered that this unfortunate man"--pointing to Morgan, who as one of the chief actors in the transaction had been placed in the front rank of the circle, although tightly bound and guarded by the grim soldiers--"claimed to be the father of the brave young soldier." "Ay, and he hath established the claim," answered de Lara. "Nay, my lord, that can not be." "Why not, sir," interrupted Alvarado, stepping forward. "Because it is not true." "Thank God, thank God!" cried Alvarado. Indeed, he almost shouted in his relief. "How know you this?" asked Mercedes. "My lady, gentles all, I have proof irrefutable. He is not the child of that wicked man. His father is----" "I care not who," cried Alvarado, having passed from death unto life in the tremendous moments, "even though he were the meanest and poorest peasant, so he were an honest man." "My lord," said the priest, "he was a noble gentleman." "I knew it, I knew it!" cried Mercedes. "I said it must be so." "Ay, a gentleman, a gentleman!" burst from the officers in the room. "Your Excellency," continued the old man, turning to the Viceroy. "His blood is as noble as your own." "His name?" said the old man, who had stood unmoved in the midst of the tumult. "Captain Alvarado that was," cried the Dominican, with an inborn love of the dramatic in his tones, "stand forth. My lord and lady, and gentles all, I present to you Don Francisco de Guzman, the son of his excellency, the former Governor of Panama and of his wife, Isabella Zerega, a noble and virtuous lady, though of humbler walk of life and circumstance than her husband." "De Guzman! De Guzman!" burst forth from the soldiers. "It is a lie!" shouted Hornigold. "He is Morgan's son. He was given to me as such. I left him at Cuchillo. You found him, sir----" He appealed to the Viceroy. "My venerable father, with due respect to you, sir, we require something more than your unsupported statement to establish so great a fact," said the Viceroy deliberately, although the sparkle in his eyes belied his calm. "Your grace speaks well," said Morgan, clutching at his hope still. "I require nothing more. I see and believe," interrupted Mercedes. "But I want proof," sternly said her father. "And you shall have it," answered the priest. "That cross he wears----" "As I am about to die!" exclaimed Morgan, "I saw his mother wear it many a time, and she put it upon his breast." "Not this one, sir," said Fra Antonio, "but its fellow. There were two sisters in the family of Zerega. There were two crosses made, one for each. In an evil hour the elder sister married you----" "We did, indeed, go through some mockery of a ceremony," muttered Morgan. "You did, sir, and 'twas a legal one, for when you won her--by what means I know not, in Maracaibo--you married her. You were forced to do so before you received her consent. One of my brethren who performed the service told me the tale. After you took her away from Maracaibo her old father, broken hearted at her defection, sought asylum in Panama with the remaining daughter, and there she met the Governor, Don Francisco de Guzman. He loved her, he wooed and won her, and at last he married her, but secretly. She was poor and humble by comparison with him; she had only her beauty and her virtue for her dower, and there were reasons why it were better the marriage should be concealed for a while. "A child was born. You were that child, sir. Thither came this man with his bloody marauders. In his train was his wretched wife and her own boy, an infant, born but a short time before that of the Governor. De Guzman sallied out to meet them and was killed at the head of his troops. They burned Panama and turned that beautiful city into a hell like unto La Guayra. I found means to secrete Isabella de Guzman and her child. The plague raged in the town. This man's wife died. He gave command to Hornigold to take the child away. He consulted me, as a priest whose life he had spared, as to what were best to do with him, and I advised Cuchillo, but his child died with its mother before it could be taken away. "Isabella de Guzman was ill. I deemed it wise to send her infant away. I urged her to substitute her child for the dead body of the other, intending to provide for its reception at Cuchillo, and she gave her child to the sailor. In the confusion and terror it must have been abandoned by the woman to whom it was delivered; she, it was supposed, perished when the buccaneers destroyed the place out of sheer wantonness when they left Panama. I fell sick of the fever shortly after and knew not what happened. The poor mother was too seriously ill to do anything. It was months ere we recovered and could make inquiries for the child, and then it had disappeared and we found no trace of it. You, sir," pointing to Hornigold, "had gone away with the rest. There was none to tell us anything. We never heard of it again and supposed it dead." "And my child, sir priest?" cried Morgan. "What became of it?" "I buried it in the same grave with its poor mother with the cross on its breast. May God have mercy on their souls!" "A pretty tale, indeed," sneered the buccaneer. "It accounts in some measure for the situation," said the Viceroy, "but I must have further proof." "Patience, noble sir, and you shall have it. These crosses were of cunning construction. They open to those who know the secret. There is room in each for a small writing. Each maiden, so they told me, put within her own cross her marriage lines. If this cross hath not been tampered with it should bear within its recess the attestation of the wedding of Francisco de Guzman and Isabella Zerega." "The cross hath never left my person," said Alvarado, "since I can remember." "And I can bear testimony," said the Viceroy, "that he hath worn it constantly since a child. Though it was large and heavy I had a superstition that it should never leave his person. Know you the secret of the cross?" "I do, for it was shown me by the woman herself." "Step nearer, Alvarado," said de Lara. "Nay, sir," said the aged priest, as Alvarado came nearer him and made to take the cross from his breast, "thou hast worn it ever there. Wear it to the end. I can open it as thou standest." He reached up to the carven cross depending from the breast of the young man bending over him. "A pretty story," sneered Morgan again, "but had I aught to wager, I'd offer it with heavy odds that that cross holds the marriage lines of my wife." "Thou wouldst lose, sir, for see, gentlemen," cried the priest, manipulating the crucifix with his long, slender fingers and finally opening it, "the opening! And here is a bit of parchment! Read it, sir." He handed it to the Viceroy. The old noble, lifting it to the light, scanned the closely-written, faded lines on the tiny scrap of delicate parchment. "'Tis a certificate of marriage of----" He paused. "Maria Zerega," said Morgan, triumphantly. "Nay," answered the old man, and his triumph rung in his voice, "of Isabella Zerega and Francisco de Guzman." "Hell and fury!" shouted the buccaneer, "'tis a trick!" "And signed by----" He stopped again, peering at the faded, almost illegible signature. "By whom, your Excellency?" interrupted the priest smiling. "'Tis a bit faded," said the old man, holding it nearer. "Fra--An--tonio! Was it thou?" "Even so, sir. I married the mother, as I buried her yester eve upon the sand." "'Tis a fact established," said the Viceroy, satisfied at last. "Don Francisco de Guzman, Alvarado that was, thy birth and legitimacy are clear and undoubted. There by your side stands the woman you have loved. If you wish her now I shall be honored to call you my son." "My lord," answered Alvarado, "that I am the son of an honorable gentleman were joy enough, but when thou givest me Donna Mercedes----" He turned, and with a low cry the girl fled to his arms. He drew her close to him and laid his hand upon her head, and then he kissed her before the assembled cavaliers, who broke into enthusiastic shouts and cries of happy approbation. "There's more evidence yet," cried the priest, thrusting his hand into the bosom of his habit and drawing forth a glittering object. "Sir, I took this from the body of Sister Maria Christina, for upon my advice she entered upon the service of the Holy Church after her bereavement, keeping her secret, for there was naught to be gained by its publication. That Church she served long and well. Many sufferers there be to whom she ministered who will rise up and call her blessed. She killed herself upon the sands rather than give aid and comfort to this man and his men, or submit herself to the evil desires of his band. Sirs, I have lived long and suffered much, and done some little service for Christ, His Church, and His children, but I take more comfort from the absolution that I gave her when she cried for mercy against the sin of self-slaughter than for any other act in my career. Here, young sir," said the priest, opening the locket, "are the pictures of your father and mother. See, cavaliers, some of you knew Don Francisco de Guzman and can recognize him. That is his wife. She was young and had golden hair like thine, my son, in those days. You are the express image of her person as I recall it." "My father! My mother!" cried Alvarado. "Look, Mercedes, look your Excellency, and gentlemen, all! But her body, worthy father?" "Even as her soul hath gone out into the new life beyond, her body was drawn out into the great deep at the call of God--but not unblessed, señors, even as she went not unshriven, for I knelt alone by her side, unable by my wounds and weakness to do more service, and said the office of our Holy Church." "May God bless thee, as I bless thee!" answered Alvarado, to give him the familiar name. As he spoke he sank on his knees and pressed a long and fervent kiss upon the worn and withered hand of the aged man. "It is not meet," said the priest, withdrawing his hand and laying it in blessing upon the bowed fair head. "That which was lost is found again. Let us rejoice and praise God for His mercy. Donna Mercedes, gentlemen, my blessing on Señor de Guzman and upon ye all. Benedicite!" he said, making the sign of the cross. CHAPTER XXIV IN WHICH SIR HENRY MORGAN APPEALS UNAVAILINGLY ALIKE TO THE PITY OF WOMAN, THE FORGIVENESS OF PRIEST, THE FRIENDSHIP OF COMRADE, AND THE HATRED OF MEN "And bless me also, my father," cried Mercedes, kneeling by Alvarado's side. "Most willingly, my fair daughter," answered the old man. "A fit helpmate indeed thou hast shown thyself for so brave a soldier. By your leave, your Excellency. You will indulge an old man's desire to bless the marriage of the son as he did that of the mother? No obstacle, I take it, now exists to prevent this most happy union." "None," answered the Viceroy, as the young people rose and stood before him, "and glad I am that this happy solution of our difficulties has come to pass." "And when, sir," questioned the priest further, "may I ask that you design----" "The sooner the better," said the Viceroy smiling grimly. "By the mass, reverend father, I'll feel easier when he hath her in his charge!" "I shall prove as obedient to thee as wife, Don Francisco----" said Mercedes with great spirit, turning to him. "Nay, call me Alvarado, sweet lady," interrupted her lover. "Alvarado then, if you wish--for it was under that name that I first loved thee--I shall prove as obedient a wife to thee as I was a dutiful daughter to thee, my father." "'Tis not saying o'er much," commented the Viceroy, but smiling more kindly as he said the words. "Nay, I'll take that back, Mercedes, or modify it. Thou hast, indeed, been to me all that a father could ask, until----" "'Twas my fault, your Excellency. On me be the punishment," interrupted the lover. "Thou shalt have it with Mercedes," answered the Viceroy, laughing broadly now. "What say ye, gentlemen?" "My lord," said Agramonte, from his age and rank assuming to speak for the rest, "there is not one of us who would not give all he possessed to stand in the young Lord de Guzman's place." "Well, well," continued the old man, "when we have restored order in the town we shall have a wedding ceremony--say to-morrow." "Ay, ay, to-morrow, to-morrow!" cried the cavaliers. "Your Excellency, there is one more thing yet to be done," said Alvarado as soon as he could be heard. "Art ever making objections, Captain Alvarado--Don Francisco, that is. We might think you had reluctance to the bridal," exclaimed the Viceroy in some little surprise. "What is it now?" "The punishment of this man." "I gave him into your hands." "By God!" shouted old Hornigold, "I wondered if in all this fathering and mothering and sweethearting and giving in marriage he had forgot----" "Not so. The postponement but makes it deeper," answered Alvarado gravely. "Rest satisfied." "And I shall have my revenge in full measure?" "In full, in overflowing measure, señor." "Do you propose to shoot me?" asked the buccaneer chieftain coolly. "Or behead me?" "That were a death for an honorable soldier taken in arms and forced to bide the consequences of his defeat. It is not meet for you," answered Alvarado. "What then? You'll not hang me? Me! A knight of England! Sometime Governor of Jamaica!" "These titles are nothing to me. And hanging is the death we visit upon the common criminal, a man who murders or steals, or blasphemes. Your following may expect that. For you there is----" "You don't mean to burn me alive, do you?" "Were you simply a heretic that might be meet, but you are worse----" "What do you mean?" cried the buccaneer, carried away by the cold-blooded menace in Alvarado's words. "Neither lead, nor steel, nor rope, nor fire!" "Neither one nor the other, sir." "Is it the wheel? The rack? The thumbscrew? Sink me, ye shall see how an Englishman can die! Even from these I flinch not." "Nor need you, from these, for none of them shall be used," continued the young soldier, with such calculating ferocity in his voice that in spite of his dauntless courage and intrepidity the blood of Morgan froze within his veins. "Death and destruction!" he shouted. "What is there left?" "You shall die, señor, not so much by the hand of man as by the act of God." "God! I believe in none. There is no God!" "That you shall see." "Your Excellency, my lords! I appeal to you to save me from this man, not my son but my nephew----" "S'death, sirrah!" shouted the Viceroy, enraged beyond measure by the allusion to any relationship, "not a drop of your base blood pollutes his veins. I have given you over to him. He will attend to you." "What means he to do then?" "You shall see." "When?" "To-morrow." The sombre, sinister, although unknown purpose of the Spaniards had new terrors lent to it by the utter inability of the buccaneer to foresee what was to be his punishment. He was a man of the highest courage, the stoutest heart, yet in that hour he was astonied. His knees smote together; he clenched his teeth in a vain effort to prevent their chattering. All his devilry, his assurance, his fortitude, his strength, seemed to leave him. He stood before them suddenly an old, a broken man, facing a doom portentous and terrible, without a spark of strength or resolution left to meet it, whatever it might be. And for the first time in his life he played the craven, the coward. He moistened his dry lips and looked eagerly from one face to another in the dark and gloomy ring that encircled him. "Lady," he said at last, turning to Mercedes as the most likely of his enemies to befriend him, "you are a woman. You should be tender hearted. You don't want to see an old man, old enough to be your father, suffer some unknown, awful torture? Plead for me! Ask your lover. He will refuse you nothing now." There was a dead silence in the room. Mercedes stared at the miserable wretch making his despairing appeal as if she were fascinated. "Answer him," said her stern old father, "as a Spanish gentlewoman should." It was a grim and terrible age. The gospel under which all lived in those days was not that of the present. It was a gospel writ in blood, and fire, and steel. "An eye for an eye," said the girl slowly, "a tooth for a tooth, life for life, shame for shame," her voice rising until it rang through the room. "In the name of my ruined sisters, whose wails come to us this instant from without, borne hither on the night wind, I refuse to intercede for you, monster. For myself, the insults you have put upon me, I might forgive, but not the rest. The taking of one life like yours can not repay." "You hear?" cried Alvarado. "Take him away." "One moment," cried Morgan. "Holy Father--your religion--it teaches to forgive they say. Intercede for me!" His eyes turned with faint hope toward the aged priest. "Not for such as thou," answered the old man looking from him. "I could forgive this," he touched his battered tonsure, "and all thou hast done against me and mine. That is not little, for when I was a lad, a youth, before I took the priestly yoke upon me, I loved Maria Zerega--but that is nothing. What suffering comes upon me I can bear, but thou hast filled the cup of iniquity and must drain it to the dregs. Hark ye--the weeping of the desolated town! I can not interfere! They that take the sword shall perish by it. It is so decreed. You believe not in God----" "I will! I do!" cried the buccaneer, clutching at the hope. "I shall pray for thee, that is all." "Hornigold," cried the now almost frenzied man, his voice hoarse with terror and weakness, "they owe much to you. Without you they had not been here. I have wronged you grievously--terribly--but I atone by this. Beg them, not to let me go but only to kill me where I stand! They will not refuse you. Had it not been for you this man would not have known his father. He could not have won this woman. You have power. You'll not desert an old comrade in his extremity? Think, we have stood together sword in hand and fought our way through all obstacles in many a desperate strait. Thou and I, old shipmate. By the memory of that old association, by the love you once bore me, and by that I gave to you, ask them for my death, here--now--at once!" "You ask for grace from me!" snarled Hornigold savagely, yet triumphant. "You--you hanged my brother----" "I know, I know! 'Twas a grievous error. I shall be punished for all--ask them to shoot me--hang me----" He slipped to his knees, threw himself upon the floor, and lay grovelling at Hornigold's feet. "Don't let them torture me, man! My God, what is it they intend to do to me?" "Beg, you hound!" cried the boatswain, spurning him with his foot. "I have you where I swore I'd bring you. And, remember, 'tis I that laid you low--I--I--" He shrieked like a maniac. "When you suffer in that living death for which they design you, remember with every lingering breath of anguish that it was I who brought you there! You trifled with me--mocked me--betrayed me. You denied my request. I grovelled at your feet and begged you--you spurned me as I do you now. Curse you! I'll ask no mercy for you!" "My lord," gasped out Morgan, turning to the Viceroy in one final appeal, as two of the men dragged him to his feet again, "I have treasure. The galleon we captured--it is buried--I can lead you there." "There is not a man of your following," said the Viceroy, "who would not gladly purchase life by the same means." "And 'tis not needed," said the boatswain, "for I have told them where it lies." "If Teach were here," said Morgan, "he would stand by me." A man forced his way into the circle carrying a sack in his hand. Drawing the strings he threw the contents at the feet of the buccaneer, and there rolled before him the severed head of the only man save Black Dog upon whom he could have depended, his solitary friend. Morgan staggered back in horror from the ghastly object, staring at it as if fascinated. [Illustration: ... he threw the contents at the feet of the buccaneer, and there rolled before him the severed head of ... his solitary friend.] "Ha, ha! Ho, ho!" laughed the old boatswain. "What was it that he sang? 'We'll be damnably mouldy'--ay, even you and I captain--'an hundred years hence.' But should you live so long, you'll not forget 'twas I." "You didn't betray me then, my young comrade," whispered Morgan, looking down at the severed head. "You fought until you were killed. Would that my head might lie by your side." He had been grovelling, pleading, weeping, beseeching, but the utter uselessness of it at last came upon him and some of his courage returned. He faced them once more with head uplifted. "At your will, I'm ready," he cried. "I defy you! You shall see how Harry Morgan can die. Scuttle me, I'll not give way again!" "Take him away," said Alvarado; "we'll attend to him in the morning." "Wait! Give me leave, since I am now tried and condemned, to say a word." A cunning plan had flashed into the mind of Morgan, and he resolved to put it in execution. "It has been a long life, mine, and a merry one. There's more blood upon my hands--Spanish blood, gentlemen--than upon those of any other human being. There was Puerto Principe. Were any of you there? The men ran like dogs before me there and left the women and children. I wiped my feet upon your accursed Spanish flag. I washed the blood from my hands with hair torn from the heads of your wives, your sweethearts, and you had not courage to defend them!" A low murmur of rage swept through the room. "But that's not all. Some of you perhaps were at Porto Bello. I drove the women of the convents to the attack, as in this city yesterday. When I finished I burned the town--it made a hot fire. I did it--I--who stand here! I and that cursed one-eyed traitor Hornigold, there!" The room was in a tumult now. Shouts, and curses, and imprecations broke forth. Weapons were bared, raised, and shaken at him. The buccaneer laughed and sneered, ineffable contempt pictured on his face. "And some of you were at Santa Clara, at Chagres, and here in Venezuela at Maracaibo, where we sunk the ships and burned your men up like rats. Then, there was Panama. We left the men to starve and die. Your mother, Señor Agramonte--what became of her? Your sister, there! Your wife, here! The sister of your mother, you young dog--what became of them all? Hell was let loose in this town yesterday. Panama was worse than La Guayra. I did it--I--Harry Morgan's way!" He thrust himself into the very faces of the men, and with cries of rage they rushed upon him. They brushed aside the old Viceroy, drowning his commands with their shouts. Had it not been for the interference of Hornigold and Alvarado they would have cut Morgan to pieces where he stood. And this had been his aim--to provoke them beyond measure by a recital of some of his crimes so that he would be killed in their fury. But the old boatswain with superhuman strength seized the bound captain and forced him into a corner behind a table, while Alvarado with lightning resolution beat down the menacing sword points. "Back!" he cried. "Do you not see he wished to provoke this to escape just punishment? I would have silenced him instantly but I thought ye could control yourselves. I let him rave on that he might be condemned out of his own mouth, that none could have doubt that he merits death at our hands to-morrow. Sheath your weapons instantly, gentlemen!" he cried. "Ay," said the Viceroy, stepping into the crowd and endeavoring to make himself heard, "under pain of my displeasure. What, soldiers, nobles, do ye turn executioners in this way?" "My mother----" "My sister----" "The women and children----" "The insult to the flag----" "The disgrace to the Spanish name!" "That he should say these things and live!" "Peace, sirs, he will not say words like these to-morrow. Now, we have had enough. See!" cried the old Viceroy, pointing to the windows, "the day breaks. Take him away. Agramonte, to you I commit the fort. Mercedes, Alvarado, come with me. Those who have no duties to perform, go get some sleep. As for you, prisoner, if you have preparation to make, do so at once, for in the morning you shall have no opportunity." "I am ready now!" cried Morgan recklessly, furious because he had been balked in his attempt. "Do with me as you will! I have had my day, and it has been a long and merry one." "And I mine, to-night. It has been short, but enough," laughed Hornigold, his voice ringing like a maniac's in the hall. "For I have had my revenge!" "We shall take care of that in the morning," said Alvarado, turning away to follow the Viceroy and Mercedes. BOOK VI IN WHICH THE CAREER OF SIR HENRY MORGAN IS ENDED ON ISLA DE LA TORTUGA, TO THE GREAT DELECTATION OF MASTER BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD, HIS SOMETIME FRIEND CHAPTER XXV AND LAST. WHEREIN IS SEEN HOW THE JUDGMENT OF GOD CAME UPON THE BUCCANEERS IN THE END Before it was submerged by the great earthquake which so tremendously overwhelmed the shores of South America with appalling disaster nearly a century and a half later, a great arid rock on an encircling stretch of sandy beach--resultant of untold centuries of struggle between stone and sea--thrust itself above the waters a few miles northward of the coast of Venezuela. The cay was barren and devoid of any sort of life except for a single clump of bushes that had sprung up a short distance from the huge rock upon a little plateau sufficiently elevated to resist the attacks of the sea, which at high tide completely overflowed the islet except at that one spot. Four heavy iron staples had been driven with great difficulty into holes drilled in the face of the volcanic rock. To these four large chains had been made fast. The four chains ended in four fetters and the four fetters enclosed the ankles and wrists of a man. The length of the four chains had been so cunningly calculated that the arms and legs of the man were drawn far apart, so that he resembled a gigantic white cross against the dark surface of the stone. A sailor would have described his position by saying that he had been "spread-eagled" by those who had fastened him there. Yet the chains were not too short to allow a little freedom of motion. He could incline to one side or to the other, lift himself up or down a little, or even thrust himself slightly away from the face of the rock. The man was in tatters, for his clothing had been rent and torn by the violent struggles he had made before he had been securely fastened in his chains. He was an old man, and his long gray hair fell on either side of his lean, fierce face in tangled masses. A strange terror of death--the certain fate that menaced him, was upon his countenance. He had borne himself bravely enough except for a few craven moments, while in the presence of his captors and judges, chief among whom had been the young Spanish soldier and the one-eyed sailor whom he had known for so many years. With the bravado of despair he had looked with seeming indifference on the sufferings of his own men that same morning. After being submitted to the tortures of the rack, the boot, the thumbscrew, or the wheel, in accordance with the fancy of their relentless captors, they had been hanged to the outer walls and he had been forced to pass by them on his way to this hellish spot. But the real courage of the man was gone now. His simulation had not even been good enough to deceive his enemies, and now even that had left him. He was alone, so he believed, upon the island, and all of the mortal fear slowly creeping upon him already appeared in his awful face, clearly exhibited by the light of the setting sun streaming upon his left hand for he was chained facing northward, that is, seaward. As he fancied himself the only living thing upon that island he took little care to conceal his emotions--indeed, it was impossible for him any longer to keep up the pretence of indifference. His nerves were shattered, his spirit broken. Retribution was dogging him hard. Vengeance was close at hand at last. Besides, what mattered it? He thought himself alone, absolutely alone. But in that fancy he was wrong, for in the solitary little copse of bushes of which mention has been made there lay hidden a man--an ancient sailor. His single eye gleamed as fiercely upon the bound, shackled prisoner as did the setting sun itself. Old Benjamin Hornigold, who had schemed and planned for his revenge, had insisted upon being put ashore on the other side of the island after the boats had rowed out of sight of the captive, that he might steal back and, himself unseen, watch the torture of the man who had betrayed him and wronged him so deeply that in his diseased mind no expiation could be too awful for the crime; that he might glut his fierce old soul with the sight for which it had longed since the day Harry Morgan, beholden to him as he was for his very life and fortune, for a thousand brave and faithful, if nefarious, services, had driven him like a dog from his presence. Alvarado--who, being a Spaniard, could sympathize and understand the old sailor's lust for revenge--had readily complied with his request, and had further promised to return for the boatswain in two days. They calculated nicely that the already exhausted prisoner would scarcely survive that long, and provisions and water ample for that period had been left for the sustenance of Hornigold--alone. Morgan, however, did not know this. He believed his only companions to be the body of the half-breed who had died for him as he had lived for him, and the severed head of a newer comrade who had not betrayed him. The body lay almost at his feet; the head had been wedged in the sand so that its sightless face was turned toward him in the dreadful, lidless staring gaze of sudden death. And those two were companions with whom he could better have dispensed, even in his solitude. They had said to the buccaneer, as they fastened him to the rocks, that they would not take his life, but that he would be left to the judgment of God. What would that be? He thought he knew. He had lived long enough on the Caribbean to know the habits of that beautiful and cruel sea. There was a little stretch of sand at his feet and then the water began. He estimated that the tide had been ebbing for an hour or so when he was fastened up and abandoned. The rock to which he had been chained was still wet, and he noticed that the dampness existed far above his head. The water would recede--and recede--and recede--until perhaps some three hundred feet of bare sand would stretch before him, and then it would turn and come back, back, back. Where would it stop? How high would it rise? Would it flood in in peaceful calm as it was then drawing away? Would it come crashing in heavy assault upon the sands as it generally did, beating out his life against the rock? He could not tell. He gazed at it intently so long as there was light, endeavoring to decide the momentous question. To watch it was something to do. It gave him mental occupation, and so he stared and stared at the slowly withdrawing water-line. Of the two he thought he should prefer a storm. He would be beaten to pieces, the life battered out of him horribly in that event; but that would be a battle, a struggle,--action. He could fight, if he could not wait and endure. It would be a terrible death, but it would be soon over and, therefore, he preferred it to the slow horror of watching the approach of the waters creeping in and up to drown him. The chief agony of his position, however, the most terrifying feature in this dreadful situation to which his years of crime had at last brought him, was that he was allowed no choice. He had always been a man of swift, prompt, bold action; self-reliant, fearless, resolute, a master not a server; accustomed to determine events in accordance with his own imperious will, and wont to bring them about as he planned. To be chained there, impotent, helpless, waiting, indeed, the judgment of God, was a thing which it seemed impossible for him to bear. The indecision of it, the uncertainty of it, added to his helplessness and made it the more appalling to him. The judgment of God! He had never believed in a God since his boyhood days, and he strove to continue in his faithlessness now. He had been a brave man, dauntless and intrepid, but cold, paralyzing fear now gripped him by the heart. A few lingering sparks of the manhood and courage of the past that not even his crimes had deprived him of still remained in his being, however, and he strove as best he might to control the beating of his heart, to still the trembling of his arms and legs which shook the chains against the stone face of the rock making them ring out in a faint metallic clinking, which was the sweetest music that had ever pierced the eager hollow of the ear of the silent listener and watcher concealed in the thicket. So long as it was light Morgan intently watched the sea. There was a sense of companionship in it which helped to alleviate his unutterable loneliness. And he was a man to whom loneliness in itself was a punishment. There were too many things in the past that had a habit of making their presence felt when he was alone, for him ever to desire to be solitary. Presently the sun disappeared with the startling suddenness of tropic latitudes, and without twilight darkness fell over the sea and over his haggard face like a veil. The moon had not yet risen and he could see nothing. There were a few faint clouds on the horizon, he had noticed, which might presage a storm. It was very dark and very still, as calm and peaceful a tropic night as ever shrouded the Caribbean. Farther and farther away from him he could hear the rustle of the receding waves as the tide went down. Over his head twinkled the stars out of the deep darkness. In that vast silence he seemed to hear a voice, still and small, talking to him in a faint whisper that yet pierced the very centre of his being. All that it said was one word repeated over and over again, "God--God--God!" The low whisper beat into his brain and began to grow there, rising louder and louder in its iteration until the whole vaulted heaven throbbed with the ringing sound of it. He listened--listened--it seemed for hours--until his heart burst within him. At last he screamed and screamed, again and again, "Yes--yes! Now I know--I know!" And still the sound beat on. He saw strange shapes in the darkness. One that rose and rose, and grew and grew, embracing all the others until its head seemed to touch the stars, and ever it spoke that single word "God--God--God!" He could not close his eyes, but if he had been able to raise his hand he would have hid his face. The wind blew softly, it was warm and tender, yet the man shivered with cold, the sweat beaded his brow. Then the moon sprang up as suddenly as the sun had fallen. Her silver radiance flooded the firmament. Light, heavenly light once more! He was alone. The voice was still; the shadow left him. Far away from him the white line of the water was breaking on the silver sand. His own cry came back to him and frightened him in the dead silence. Now the tide turned and came creeping in. It had gone out slowly; it had lingered as if reluctant to leave him; but to his distraught vision it returned with the swiftness of a thousand white horses tossing their wind-blown manes. The wind died down; the clouds were dissipated. The night was so very calm, it mocked the storm raging in his soul. And still the silvered water came flooding in; gently--tenderly--caressingly--the little waves lapped the sands. At last they lifted the ghastly head of young Teach--he'd be damnably mouldy a hundred years hence!--and laid it at his feet. He cursed the rising water, and bade it stay--and heedlessly it came on. It was a tropic sea and the waters were as warm as those of any sun-kissed ocean, but they broke upon his knees with the coldness of eternal ice. They rolled the heavier body of his faithful slave against him--he strove to drive it away with his foot as he had striven to thrust aside the ghastly head, and without avail. The two friends receded as the waves rolled back but they came on again, and again, and again. They had been faithful to him in life, they remained with him in death. Now the water broke about his waist; now it rose to his breast. He was exhausted; worn out. He hung silent, staring. His mind was busy; his thought went back to that rugged Welsh land where he had been born. He saw himself a little boy playing in the fields that surrounded the farmhouse of his father and mother. He took again that long trip across the ocean. He lived again in the hot hell of the Caribbean. Old forms of forgotten buccaneers clustered about him. Mansfelt, under whom he had first become prominent himself. There on the horizon rose the walls of a sleeping town. With his companions he slowly crept forward through the underbrush, slinking along like a tiger about to spring upon its prey. The doomed town flamed before his eyes. The shrieks of men, the prayers of women, the piteous cries of little children came into his ears across forty years. Cannon roared in his ear--the crash of splintered wood, the despairing appeals for mercy, for help, from drowning mariners, as he stood upon a bloody deck watching the rolling of a shattered, sinking ship. Was that water, spray from some tossing wave, or blood, upon his hand? The water was higher now; it was at his neck. There were Porto Bello, Puerto Principe, and Maracaibo, and Chagres and Panama--ah, Panama! All the fiends of hell had been there, and he had been their chief! They came back now to mock him. They pointed at him, gibbered upon him, threatened him, and laughed--great God, how they laughed! There was pale-faced, tender-eyed Maria Zerega who had died of the plague, and the baby, the boy. Jamaica, too, swept into his vision. There was his wife shrinking away from him in the very articles of death. There was young Ebenezer Hornigold, dancing right merrily upon the gallows together with others of the buccaneers he had hanged. The grim figure of the one-eyed boatswain rose before him and leered upon him and swept the other apparitions away. This was La Guayra--yesterday. He had been betrayed. Whose men were those? The men hanging on the walls? And Hornigold had done it--old Ben Hornigold--that he thought so faithful. He screamed aloud again with hate, he called down curses upon the head of the growing one-eyed apparition. And the water broke into his mouth and stopped him. It called him to his senses for a moment. His present peril overcame the hideous recollection of the past. That water was rising still. Great God! At last he prayed. Lips that had only cursed shaped themselves into futile petitions. There was a God, after all. The end was upon him, yet with the old instinct of life he lifted himself upon his toes. He raised his arms as far as the chains gave him play and caught the chains themselves and strove to pull, to lift, at last only to hold himself up, a rigid, awful figure. He gained an inch or two, but his fetters held him down. As the water supported him he found little difficulty in maintaining the position for a space. But he could go no higher--if the water rose an inch more that would be the end. He could breathe only between the breaking waves now. The body of the black was swung against him again and again; the head of young Teach kissed him upon the cheek; and still the water seemed to rise, and rise, and rise. He was a dead man like the other two, indeed he prayed to die, and yet in fear he clung to the chains and held on. Each moment he fancied would be his last. But he could not let go. Oh, God! how he prayed for a storm; that one fierce wave might batter him to pieces; but the waters were never more calm than on that long, still night, the sea never more peaceful than in those awful hours. By and by the waters fell. He could not believe it at first. He still hung suspended and waited with bated breath. Was he deceived? No, the waters were surely falling. The seconds seemed minutes to him, the minutes, hours. At last he gained assurance. There was no doubt but that the tide was going down. The waves had risen far, but he had been lifted above them; now they were falling, falling! Yes, and they were bearing away that accursed body and that ghastly head. He was alive still, saved for the time being. The highest waves only touched his breast now. Lower--lower--they moved away. Reluctantly they lingered; but they fell, they fell. To drown? That was not the judgment of God for him then. What would it be? His head fell forward on his breast--he had fainted in the sudden relief of his undesired salvation. Long time he hung there and still the tide ebbed away, carrying with it all that was left of the only two who had loved him. He was alone now, surely, save for that watcher in the bushes. After a while consciousness returned to him again, and after the first swift sense of relief there came to him a deeper terror, for he had gone through the horror and anguish of death and had not died. He was alive still, but as helpless as before. What had the Power he had mocked designed for his end? Was he to watch that ghastly tide come in again and rise, and rise, and rise until it caught him by the throat and threatened to choke him, only to release him as before? Was he to go through that daily torture until he starved or died of thirst? He had not had a bite to eat, a drop to drink, since the day before. It was morning now. On his right hand the sun sprang from the ocean bed with the same swiftness with which it had departed the night before. Like the tide, it, too, rose, and rose. There was not a cloud to temper the fierceness with which it beat upon his head, not a breath of air to blow across his fevered brow. The blinding rays struck him like hammers of molten iron. He stared at it out of his frenzied, blood-shot eyes and writhed beneath its blazing heat. Before him the white sand burned like smelted silver, beyond him the tremulous ocean seemed to seethe and bubble under the furious fire of the glowing heaven above his head--a vault of flaming topaz over a sapphire sea. He closed his eyes, but could not shut out the sight--and then the dreams of night came on him again. His terrors were more real, more apparent, more appalling, because he saw his dreaded visions in the full light of day. By and by these faded as the others had done. All his faculties were merged into one consuming desire for water--water. The thirst was intolerable. Unless he could get some his brain would give way. He was dying, dying, dying! Oh, God, he could not die, he was not ready to die! Oh, for one moment of time, for one drop of water--God--God--God! Suddenly before his eyes there arose a figure. At first he fancied it was another of the apparitions which had companied with him during the awful night and morning; but this was a human figure, an old man, bent, haggard like himself with watching, but with a fierce mad joy in his face. Where had he come from? Who was he? What did he want? The figure glared upon the unhappy man with one fiery eye, and then he lifted before the captive's distorted vision something--what was it--a cup of water? Water--God in heaven--water brimming over the cup! It was just out of reach of his lips--so cool, so sweet, so inviting! He strained at his chains, bent his head, thrust his lips out. He could almost touch it--not quite! He struggled and struggled and strove to break his fetters, but without avail. Those fetters could not be broken by the hand of man. He could not drink--ah, God!--then he lifted his blinded eyes and searched the face of the other. "Hornigold!" he whispered hoarsely with his parched and stiffened lips. "Is it thou?" A deep voice beat into his consciousness. "Ay. I wanted to let you know there was water here. You must be thirsty. You'd like a drink? So would I. There is not enough for both of us. Who will get it? I. Look!" "Not all, not all!" screamed the old captain faintly, as the other drained the cup. "A little! A drop for me!" "Not one drop," answered Hornigold, "not one drop! If you were in hell and I held a river in my hand, you would not get a drop! It's gone." He threw the cup from him. "I brought you to this--I! Do you recall it? You owe this to me. You had your revenge--this is mine. But it's not over yet. I'm watching you. I shall not come out here again, but I'm watching you, remember that! I can see you!" "Hornigold, for God's sake, have pity!" "You know no God; you have often boasted of it--neither do I. And you never knew pity--neither do I!" [Illustration: "I wanted to let you know there was water here ... There is not enough for both of us. Who will get it? I; look!"] "Take that knife you bear--kill me!" "I don't want you to die--not yet. I want you to live--live--a long time, and remember!" "Hornigold, I'll make amends! I'll be your slave!" "Ay, crawl and cringe now, you dog! I swore that you should do it! It's useless to beg me for mercy. I know not that word--neither did you. There is nothing left in me but hate--hate for you. I want to see you suffer----" "The tide! It's coming back. I can't endure this heat and thirst! It won't drown me----" "Live, then," said the boatswain. "Remember, I watch!" He threw his glance upward, stopped suddenly, a fierce light in that old eye of his. "Look up," he cried, "and you will see! Take heart, man. I guess you won't have to wait for the tide, and the sun won't bother you long. Remember, I am watching you!" He turned and walked away, concealing himself in the copse once more where he could see and not be seen. The realization that he was watched by one whom he could not see, one who gloated over his miseries and sufferings and agonies, added the last touch to the torture of the buccaneer. He had no longer strength nor manhood, he no longer cried out after that one last appeal to the merciless sailor. He did not even look up in obedience to the old man's injunction. What was there above him, beneath him, around him, that could add to his fear? He prayed for death. They were the first and last prayers that had fallen from his lips for fifty years, those that day. Yet when death did come at last he shrank from it with an increasing terror and horror that made all that he had passed through seem like a trifle. When old Hornigold had looked up he had seen a speck in the vaulted heaven. It was slowly soaring around and around in vast circles, and with each circle coming nearer and nearer to the ground. A pair of keen and powerful eyes were aloft there piercing the distance, looking, searching, in every direction, until at last their glance fell upon the figure upon the rock. The circling stopped. There was a swift rush through the air. A black feathered body passed between the buccaneer and the sun, and a mighty vulture, hideous bird of the tropics, alighted on the sands near by him. [Illustration: Hell had no terror like to this, which he, living, suffered.] So this was the judgment of God upon this man! For a second his tortured heart stopped its beating. He stared at the unclean thing, and then he shrank back against the rock and screamed with frantic terror. The bird moved heavily back a little distance and stopped, peering at him. He could see it by turning his head. He could drive it no farther. In another moment there was another rush through the air, another, another! He screamed again. Still they came, until it seemed as if the earth and the heavens were black with the horrible birds. High in the air they had seen the first one swooping to the earth, and with unerring instinct, as was their habit, had turned and made for the point from which the first had dropped downward to the shore. They circled themselves about him. They sat upon the rock above him. They stared at him with their lustful, carrion, jeweled eyes out of their loathsome, featherless, naked heads, drawing nearer--nearer--nearer. He could do no more. His voice was gone. His strength was gone. He closed his eyes, but the sight was still before him. His bleeding, foamy lips mumbled one unavailing word: "Hornigold!" From the copse there came no sound, no answer. He sank forward in his chains, his head upon his breast, convulsive shudders alone proclaiming faltering life. Hell had no terror like to this which he, living, suffered. There was a weight upon his shoulder now fierce talons sank deep into his quivering flesh. In front of his face, before a pair of lidless eyes that glowed like fire, a hellish, cruel beak struck at him. A faint, low, ghastly cry trembled through the still air. * * * * * And the resistless tide came in. A man drove away the birds at last before they had quite taken all, for the torn arms still hung in the iron fetters; an old man, blind of one eye, the black patch torn off the hideous hole that had replaced the socket. He capered with the nimbleness of youth before the ghastly remains of humanity still fastened to that rock. He shouted and screamed, and laughed and sang. The sight had been too horrible even for him. He was mad, crazy; his mind was gone. He had his revenge, and it had eaten him up. The waters dashed, about his feet and seemed to awaken some new idea in his disordered brain. "What!" he cried, "the tide is in. Up anchor, lads! We must beat out to sea. Captain, I'll follow you. Harry Morgan's way to lead--old Ben Hornigold's to follow--ha, ha! ho, ho!" He waded out into the water, slowly going deeper and deeper. A wave swept him off his feet. A hideous laugh came floating back over the sea, and then he struck out, and out, and out---- * * * * * And so the judgment of God was visited upon Sir Henry Morgan and his men at last, and as it was writ of old: _With what measure they had meted out, it had been measured back to them again!_ [Illustration] 
44380	----	(http://www.freeliterature.org) from page images generously made available by the Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford (http://www.bodleian.ox.ac.uk) Note: Images of the original pages are available through Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford. See http://purl.ox.ac.uk/uuid/324b5598fbd44321abe105868fb7f75a THE BUCCANEER CHIEF A Romance of the Spanish Main by GUSTAVE AIMARD Author of Smuggler Chief, Strong Hand, etc. London Ward and Lock, 158, Fleet Street MDCCCLXIV CONTENTS. I. THE HOSTELRY OF THE COURT OF FRANCE II. A FAMILY SCENE III. THE ARREST IV. THE ISLE OF SAINTE MARGUERITE V. A BACKWARD GLANCE VI. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT VII. DESPAIR VIII. THE PRISONER IX. MAJOR DE L'OURSIÈRE X. THE SEAGULL LUGGER XI. FRANCE, FAREWELL! XII. THE BEGINNING OF THE ADVENTURE XIII. THE COUNCIL OF THE FILIBUSTERS XIV. THE SECOND PROPOSAL XV. THE SPY XVI. THE SLAVE SALE XVII. THE ENLISTMENT XVIII. NEVIS XIX. THE EXPEDITION XX. THE HATTO XXI. THE MAJOR-DOMO'S STORY XXII. ACROSS COUNTRY XXIII. COMPLICATIONS XXIV. PORT MARGOT XXV. FRAY ARSENIO XXVI. THE CONSEQUENCES OF A MEETING XXVII. THE ORGANIZATION OF THE COLONY XXVIII. THE FLIGHT FROM THE HATTO XXIX. EVENTS ACCUMULATE XXX. THE EXTERMINATOR THE BUCCANEER CHIEF. CHAPTER I. THE HOSTELRY OF THE COURT OF FRANCE. Although the Seine, from Chanceaux, its fountainhead, to Havre, where it falls into the sea, is not more than four hundred miles in length, still, in spite of this comparatively limited course, this river is one of the most important in the world; for, from the days of Cæsar up to the present, it has seen all the great social questions which have agitated modern times decided on its banks. Tourists, artists, and travellers, who go a long distance in search of scenery, could not find anything more picturesque or more capriciously diversified than the winding banks of this river, which is skirted by commercial towns and pretty villages, coquettishly arranged on the sides of verdant valleys, or half disappearing in the midst of dense clumps of trees. It is in one of these villages, situated but a few leagues from Paris, that our story began, on March 26th, 1641. This village, whose origin dates back to the earliest period of the French Monarchy, was at that time pretty nearly what it is now; differing in this respect from all the hamlets that surround it, it has remained stationary; on seeing it you might fancy that centuries have not passed as far as it is concerned. When the neighbouring hamlets became villages, and were finally transformed into large towns, it continually decreased, so that its population at the present day scarce attains the amount of four hundred inhabitants. And yet its situation is most happy: traversed by a stream and bordered by a river, possessing an historic castle, and forming an important station on one of the railway lines, it seemed destined to become an industrial centre, the more so because its inhabitants are industrious and intelligent. But there is a spell upon the place. The great landowners who have succeeded each other in the country, and who mostly grew rich in the political commotions, or by risky speculations, have tacitly agreed to impede in every possible way the industrial aspirations of the population--have ever egotistically sacrificed public interest to their private advantage. Thus the historic castle to which we alluded has fallen into the hands of a man who, sprung from nothing, and feeling himself stifled within its walls, allows them to crumble away before the effects of time, and, to save the expense of a gardener, sows oats in the majestic alleys of a park, designed by Le Nôtre, whose grand appearance strikes with admiration the traveller, who sees it at a distance as he is borne past in the train. The same thing is going on in the whole of this unhappy hamlet, which is condemned to die of inanition in the midst of the abundance of its neighbours. This village was composed at the period of our narrative of a single long narrow street, which ran down from the top of a scarped hill, crossed a small rivulet, and terminated only a few yards from the Seine. This street, through its entire length, was bordered by low, ugly tenements, pressing closely together, as if for mutual support, and mostly serving as pothouses for the waggoners and other people who at this period, when the great network of the French royal roads had not yet been made, continually passed through this village, and sought shelter there for the night. The top of the street was occupied by a very wealthy, religious community, next to which stood a large building hidden at the end of a spacious garden, and serving as hostelry for the wealthy personages whom their business or pleasure brought to this place, which was surrounded for ten leagues round by sumptuous seigneurial mansions. There was nothing externally to cause this building to be recognized as an inn; a low gateway gave access to the garden, and it was not till the traveller had gone along the whole of the latter that he found himself in front of the house. It had, however, another entrance, looking out on a road but little frequented at the time, and which was employed by horses and coaches, when the traveller had succeeded in obtaining the landlord's leave to put up there. Although this house, as we said, was a hostelry, its owner did not admit everybody who proposed to lodge there; on the contrary, he was very difficult in the choice of his guests, asserting, rightly or wrongly, that a hostelry, which had been honoured on several occasions by the presence of the King and the Cardinal Minister, must not serve as an asylum either for vagabonds or nightbirds. In order to justify the right he claimed, the landlord had, a few months previously, had the arms of France daubed on a metal plate by a strolling painter, and inscribed under it in golden letters--"_The Court of France._" This sign he put up over his door. This inn enjoyed a great reputation, not only in the country, but in all the surrounding provinces, and even as far as Paris--a reputation, we are bound to add, well deserved, for if mine host was particular in the choice of his lodgers, when the latter had succeeded in gaining admission he treated them, men and beasts, with a peculiar care, that had something paternal about it. Although it was getting on for the end of March, and, according to the almanac, 'Spring had begun some days previously,' the cold was nipping, the rime-laden trees stood out sadly against the leaden sky, and a thick, hardened layer of snow covered the ground for some depth. Although it was about ten o'clock at night, it was light, and the moon, floating in russet clouds, profusely shed her sickly beams, which rendered it almost as light as day. All were asleep in the village, or, at least, seemed to be so; the _Court of France_ alone emitted a light through its ground floor barred windows, which proved that somebody was still up there. Still, the inn did not offer shelter to any traveller. All those who during the day, and since nightfall, had presented themselves, had been mercilessly turned away by the landlord, a stout man, with a rubicund face, intelligent features, and a crafty smile, who was walking at this moment with an air of preoccupation up and down his immense kitchen, every now and then casting an absent glance at the preparations for supper, one portion of which was roasting before a colossal fireplace, whilst the rest was being got ready by a master cook and several assistants. A middle-aged, short, plump woman, suddenly burst into the kitchen, and addressed the landlord, who had turned round at the noise. "Is it true," she asked, "Master Pivois, that you have ordered the dais room to be got ready, as Mariette declares?" Master Pivois drew himself up. "What did Mariette tell you?" he enquired, sternly. "Well, she told me to prepare the best bedroom." "Which is the best bedroom, Dame Tiphaine?" "The dais room, master, since it is the one in which His Majesty--" "In that case," mine host interrupted her, in a peremptory tone, "prepare the dais room." "Still, master," Dame Tiphaine ventured--who possessed a certain amount of credit in the house, in the first place, as legitimate spouse of the landlord himself, and then, again, through sundry very marked traits of character--"with all the respect I owe you, it seems to me--" "With all the respect I owe you," he exclaimed, stamping his foot passionately, "you're a fool, my good creature, obey my orders, and do not trouble me further!" Dame Tiphaine comprehended that her lord and master was not in a humour that evening for being contradicted. Like a prudent woman, she bowed her head and withdrew, reserving to herself the right of taking a startling revenge at a future date for the sharp reprimand she had received. Doubtless satisfied with his display of authority, Master Pivois, after taking a triumphant glance at his subordinates, who were surprised at this unusual act of vigour, though they did not dare show it, walked toward a door that led into the garden; but at the moment when he laid his hand on the key, this door, vigorously thrust from the outside, opened right in the face of the startled landlord, who tottered back to the middle of the room, and a man entered the kitchen. "At last!" the stranger said, joyously, as he threw his plumed hat on a table and took off his cloak. "By heaven! I almost found myself in a desert." And before mine host, who was growing more and more astounded at his cool behaviour, had the time to oppose it, he took a chair, and comfortably installed himself in the chimney corner. The newcomer appeared to be not more than twenty-five years of age; long black curls fell in disorder on his shoulders; his marked features were noble and intelligent; his black eyes, full of fire, announced courage, and the habit of commanding; his countenance had a certain stamp of grandeur, tempered by the cordial smile that played round his wide mouth, full of brilliantly white teeth; his red, and rather swollen lips, were adorned, according to the fashion of the day, with a most carefully waxed moustache, while his square chin, indicative of obstinacy, was covered by a long royale. His dress, while not rich, was, however, becoming--cut with taste, and affected a certain military air, which was rendered more marked by the brace of pistols the stranger carried in his belt, and the long iron-handled sword that hung at his side. Altogether, his lofty stature, and muscular, well-developed person, and the air of audacity spread all over him, rendered him one of those men, the breed of whom was so common at the period, and who at the first glance contrived to claim from people with whom accident brought them in contact that respect to which, whether justly or unjustly, they believed they had a right. In the meanwhile, the landlord, who had slightly recovered from the emotion and surprise he had experienced at what he almost regarded as a violation of his domicile, advanced a few steps toward the stranger, and while bowing lower than he had intended, and doffing his cotton nightcap before the flashing glance the other bent on him, he stammered, in anything but a steady voice-- "My lord--" But the latter interrupted him without ceremony. "Are you the landlord?" he asked, sharply. "Yes," Master Pivois grunted, as he drew himself up, feeling quite constrained at answering when he was preparing to question. "Very good," the stranger continued; "look after my horse, which I left I know not where in your garden; have him put in the stable, and tell the ostler to wash his withers with a little vinegar and water, for I am afraid he has hurt himself a little." These words were uttered so carelessly, that the landlord stood utterly confounded, unable to utter a syllable. "Well," the stranger continued, at the expiration of a moment, with a slight frown, "what are you doing here, ass, instead of obeying my orders?" Master Pivois, completely subdued, turned on his heels, and left the room, tottering like a drunken man. The stranger looked after him with a smile, and then turned to the waiting-men, who were whispering together, and taking side-glances at him. "Come and wait on me," he said; "place a table here before me near the fire, and bring me some supper--make haste, s'death, or I shall die of hunger!" The waiting-men, delighted in their hearts at playing their master a trick, did not let the order be repeated; in a second a table was brought up, the cloth laid, and, on re-entering the room, the landlord found the stranger in the act of carving a magnificent partridge. Master Pivois assumed at the sight all the colours of the rainbow--at first pale, he turned so red that a fit of apoplexy might be apprehended, so vivid was his emotion. "By Heaven," he exclaimed, stamping his foot angrily, "that is too much." "What?" the stranger asked, as he raised his head and wiped his moustache; "What is the matter with you, my good man?" "Matter, indeed!" mine host growled. "By the way, is my horse in the stable?" "Your horse, your horse," the other grumbled, "as if that is troubling me." "What is it then, if you please, master mine?" the stranger asked, as he poured out a bumper which he conscientiously drained to the last drop. "Ah," he said, "it is Jurançon; I recognise it." This indifference and this coolness raised the landlord's anger to the highest pitch, and caused him to forget all prudence. "Cogswounds," he said, boldly seizing the bottle, "it is a strange piece of impudence thus to enter an honest house without the owner's permission; decamp at once, my fine gentleman, unless you wish harm to befall you, and seek a lodging elsewhere, for, as far as I am concerned, I cannot and will not give you one." The stranger had not moved a feature during this harangue; he had listened to Master Pivois without displaying the slightest impatience: when the landlord at length held his tongue, he threw himself back in his chair, and looked him fixedly in the face. "Listen to me in your turn, master," he said to him, "and engrave these words deeply on your narrow brain: this house is an inn, is it not? Hence it must be open without hesitation to every stranger who comes here for food and lodging with money in his pocket. I am aware that you claim the right of only receiving such persons as you think proper; if there are people who put up with that, it is their business, but for my part, I do not intend to do so. I feel comfortable here, so I remain, and shall remain as long as I think proper; I do not prevent you from swindling me, for that is your duty as a landlord, and I have no right to object; but, if I am not served politely and dexterously--if you do not give me a proper bedroom to spend the night in--in a word, if you do not perform the duties of hospitality toward me in the way I expect, I promise to pull down your signboard, and hang you up in its place, on the slightest infraction you are guilty of. And now I suppose you understand me?" he added, squeezing the other's hand so hard that the poor fellow uttered a yell of agony, and went tottering against the kitchen wall: "Serve me, then, and let us have no more argument, for you would not get the best of the quarrel if you picked one with me." And without paying further attention to the landlord, the traveller continued his interrupted supper. It was all over with the landlord's attempted resistance; he felt himself vanquished, and did not attempt a struggle which had now become impossible. Confused and humiliated, he only thought of satisfying this strange guest who had installed himself by main force in the house. The traveller did not in any way abuse his victory; satisfied with having obtained the result he desired, he did not take the slightest liberty. The result was that gradually, from one concession to another--the one offering, the other not refusing--they became on the best possible terms; and toward the end of the supper, mine host and the traveller found themselves, without knowing how, the most affectionate friends in the world. They were talking together. First of the rain and fine weather, the dearness of provisions, the king's illness, and that of his Eminence the Cardinal; then, growing gradually bolder, Master Pivois poured out a huge bumper of wine for his improvised guest, and collected all his courage. "Do you know, my good gentleman," he said to him suddenly, shaking his head with an air of contrition, "that you are fearfully in my way?" "Stuff!" the stranger answered, as he tossed off the contents of his glass, and shrugged his shoulders, "Are we coming back to the old story of just now? I thought that settled long ago." "Alas! I would it were so for everybody as it is for me." "What do you mean?" "Pray do not get into a passion, sir," the landlord continued timidly; "I have not the slightest intention of insulting you." "In that case explain yourself in the Fiend's name, my master, and come frankly to the point; I do not understand what others beside yourself have to do in the matter." "That is just the difficulty," said Master Pivois, scratching his head. "Speak, zounds! I am not an ogre; what is it that causes you such anxiety?" The landlord saw that he must out with it, and fear giving him courage, he bravely made up his mind. "Monseigneur," he said, honestly, "believe me that I am too much the man of the world to venture to act with rudeness to a gentleman of your importance--" "Enough of that," the stranger interrupted, with a smile. "But--" the host continued. "Ah! There is a _but_." "Alas! Monseigneur, there always is one, and today a bigger one than ever." "Hang it all, you terrify me, master," the stranger remarked, with a laugh; "tell me quickly, I beg of you, what this terrible but is." "Alas! Monseigneur, it is this: my entire hostelry was engaged a week ago by a party of gentlemen; I expect them to arrive in an hour--half an hour, perhaps, and--" "And?" the stranger asked, in an enquiring tone, which caused the host to shudder. "Well, Monseigneur," he resumed in a choking voice, "these gentlemen insist on having the hostelry to themselves, and made me swear not to receive any other traveller but themselves, and paid me to that effect." "Very good," said the stranger, with an air of indifference. "What do you say; very good? Monseigneur," Master Pivois exclaimed. "Hang it! What else would you have me say? You have strictly fulfilled your engagement, and no one has the right to reproach you." "How so, sir?" "Unless you have someone concealed here," the stranger answered, imperturbably, "which, I confess, would not be at all honourable on your part." "I have nobody." "Well, then?" "But you, monseigneur?" he hazarded timidly. "Oh, I," the stranger replied laughingly, "that is another affair; let us make a distinction, if you please, master; you did not receive me, far from it; I pressed my company on you, as I think you will allow." "It is only too true." "Do you regret it?" "Far from it, monseigneur," he exclaimed eagerly, for he was not at all desirous of re-arousing the slumbering wrath of the irascible stranger; "I am only stating a fact." "Very good, I see with pleasure, Master Pivois, that you are a very serious man; you are stating a fact, you say?" "Alas! yes," the luckless host sighed. "Very good; now follow my reasoning closely." "I am doing so." "When these gentlemen arrive, which according to your statement, will be soon, you will only have one thing to do." "What is it, monseigneur?" "Tell them exactly what has passed between us. If I am not greatly mistaken this honest explanation will satisfy them; if it be otherwise--" "Well, if it be so, what am I to do, sir?" "Refer them to me, Master Pivois, and I will undertake in my turn to convince them; gentlemen of good birth perfectly understand each other." "Still, monseigneur--" "Not a word more on this subject, I must request; but stay," he added, and listened, "I believe your company are arriving." And he carelessly threw himself back in his chair. Outside, the trampling of horses on the hardened snow could be distinctly heard, and then several blows were dealt on the door. "It is they," the host muttered. "A further reason not to keep them waiting; go and open the door, master, for it is very cold outside." The landlord hesitated for a moment and then left the room without replying. The stranger carefully folded himself in his mantle, pulled the brim of his beaver over his eyes, and awaited the entrance of the newcomers, while affecting an air of indifference. The waiting-men, who had sought shelter in the most remote corner of the room, were trembling in the prevision of a disturbance. CHAPTER II. A FAMILY SCENE. In the meanwhile the new arrivals were making a great noise in the road, and seemed to be growing impatient at the delay in letting them into the hostelry. Master Pivois at length decided to open to them, though he was suffering from a secret apprehension as to the consequences which the presence of a stranger in the house might have for him. As soon as a stable-lad had by his orders, drawn back the bolts, and opened the carriage-gates, several horsemen entered the yard, accompanied by a coach drawn by four horses. By the light of the lanthorn held by his lad the landlord perceived that the travellers were seven in number; three masters, three servants, and the coachman on the box. All were wrapped up in thick cloaks, and armed to the teeth. So soon as the coach had entered the yard, the horsemen dismounted; one of them, who appeared to exercise a certain authority over his companions, walked up to the landlord, while the others brought the coach up to the main entrance of the house, and closed the gates. "Well, master," said the traveller to whom we allude, with a very marked foreign accent, although he expressed himself very purely in French; "have my orders been punctually executed?" At this question, which was very embarrassing to him, Master Pivois scratched his head, and then replied like the cunning peasant he was-- "As far as possibly, yes, my lord." "What do you mean, scoundrel?" the traveller resumed roughly; "Your instructions were precise enough." "Yes, my lord," the landlord said humbly; "and I will even add that I was liberally paid beforehand." "In that case, what have you to say?" "That I have done the best I could," Master Pivois replied in growing confusion. "Ah! I suppose you mean that you have someone in the house?" "Alas! yes, my lord," the landlord answered, hanging his head. The traveller stamped his foot passionately. "S'blood!" he exclaimed; then, at once resuming an apparent calmness, he continued, "Who are the persons?" "There is only one." "Ah!" said the traveller, with satisfaction, "If there be only one, nothing is more easy than to dislodge him." "I fear not," the landlord ventured timidly, "for this traveller, who is a stranger to me, I swear, looks to me like a rude gentleman, and not at all inclined to surrender his place." "Well, well, I will take it on myself," the traveller remarked carelessly, "where is he?" "There, in the kitchen, my lord, warming himself at the fire." "That will do; is the room ready?" "Yes, my lord." "Rejoin those gentlemen, and show them the way yourself; none of your people must know what takes place here." The landlord, delighted at having got off so cheaply, bowed respectfully, and hastily retired in the direction of the garden; as for the traveller, after exchanging a few whispered words with a footman, who remained with him, he pulled his hat over his eyes, opened the door, and boldly entered the kitchen. It was deserted: the stranger had disappeared. The traveller looked anxiously around him; the waiting men, probably in obedience to orders previously received from their master, had withdrawn to their attics. After a few seconds' hesitation, the traveller returned to the garden. "Well," the landlord asked, "have you seen him, my lord?" "No," he replied, "but it is of no consequence; not a word about him to the persons who accompany me; he has doubtless left, but if that be not the case, be careful that he does not approach the apartments you have reserved for us." "Hum," the landlord muttered to himself, "all this is not clear;" and he withdrew very pensively. Truth to tell, the worthy man was frightened. His new customers had unpleasant faces, and a rough manner, which reassured him but slightly; and then again he fancied he had seen alarming shadows gliding about among the trees in his garden, a fact which he had carefully avoided verifying, but which heightened his secret apprehensions. Dame Tiphaine, torch in hand, was waiting at the house door, in readiness to light the travellers, and conduct them to their apartments. When the coach had been turned and stopped, one of the travellers went up to it, opened the door, and assisted a lady in getting out. This lady, who was magnificently dressed, appeared to be suffering, and she walked with difficulty. Still, in spite of her weakness, she declined the arm of one of the travellers offered her in support, and approached Dame Tiphaine, who, compassionate like all women, hastened to offer her the service she seemed to request of her, and helped her to ascend the rather steep staircase that led to the dais room. The travellers left the driver and a lackey to guard the coach, which remained horsed, and silently followed the sick lady. The dais room, the finest in the inn, was spacious and furnished with a certain amount of luxury; a large fire crackled on the hearth, and several candles, placed on the furniture, diffused a rather bright light. A door half hidden by tapestry communicated with a bedroom, that had a door opening on the passage, for the convenience of the attendants. When the lady had entered the room, she sank into a chair, and thanked the landlady with a bow. The latter discreetly withdrew, astonished and almost terrified by the gloomy faces which surrounded her. "Holy Virgin!" she said to Master Pivois, whom she found walking in great anxiety along the passage, "What's going to happen here? These men frighten me; that poor lady is all of a tremble, and the little I saw of her face behind her mask, is as white as a sheet." "Alas!" Master Pivois said with a sigh, "I am as frightened as you, my dear, but we can do nothing; they are too great people for us--friends of his Eminence. They would crush us without pity; we have only one thing to do, and that is to retire to our room, as we received orders to do, and to keep quiet till our services are required; the house is theirs, at this moment they are the masters." The landlord and his wife went into their room, and not satisfied with double locking their door, barricaded it with everything that came to hand. As Master Pivois had said to his wife, the travellers were certainly masters of the inn, or at least believed themselves so. The stranger, while feigning the deepest indifference, had watched the landlord's every movement: as soon as the latter left the kitchen to open the door for the newcomers, he rose, threw a purse of gold to the scullions, while putting his finger on his lips to recommend silence to them, and carefully wrapping himself in his mantle, left the kitchen. The scullions, with the intelligence characteristic of the class, comprehended that this action of the stranger concealed some plans in the execution of which it was to their interest not to interfere; they divided the money so generously given them, and remembering the orders they had received from their master, they hastily decamped, and went off to hide themselves. The stranger, while the landlord was receiving the travellers, had proceeded to the thickest part of the garden. On reaching the little gate to which we have referred, he whistled gently. Almost immediately two men seemed to rise from the midst of the darkness, and came up to him. Each of these men had a long rapier at his side, pistols in his girdle, and a musketoon in his hand. "What is there new?" the stranger asked; "Have you seen anything, Michael?" "Captain," the man answered, to whom the question was addressed, "I have seen nothing, but still I fear a trap." "A trap?" the stranger repeated. "Yes," Michael continued, "Bowline has taken bearings of several ill-looking fellows who seem desirous of boarding us." "Stuff! You are mad, Michael. You have seen the travellers who have just arrived at the inn." "No, captain; on the contrary, they exactly resemble the fellows who have been chasing us ever since the day before yesterday, regular Cardinal's bloodhounds, I'll wager." The stranger appeared to reflect. "Are they far off?" he at length asked. "Speak, Bowline, my boy," said Michael, turning to his comrade, "and don't shiver your sails, the captain is hailing you." "Well, then, Captain," said Bowline, a sturdy Breton, with a crafty look, "I sighted them over the starboard quarter at about four o'clock; I spread all my canvas to distance them, and I fancy I have left them four or five cables length in the rear." "In that case we have about an hour before us?" "Yes, about, Captain," Bowline replied. "That is more than we want; listen, my lads, and swear on your honour as sailors to obey me." "You may be quite sure we shan't fail, Captain," they answered. "I reckon on you." "Shiver my topsails, we know that," Michael replied. "Whatever may happen to me," the stranger continued, "leave me to act alone, unless I give you express orders to come to my assistance. If the Cardinal's bloodhounds were to arrive while we are up aloft, you will bolt." "We bolt!" the two sailors exclaimed. "You must, lads! Who would deliver me if we were all three prisoners?" the stranger asked. "That's true," Michael answered. "Well then, that's settled, is it not?" "Yes, Captain." "Ah! By the way, if I am arrested you will want money to liberate me; take this." He placed in their hands a heavy purse, which the sailors accepted without any remark. "Now follow me, and keep your weather eye open, my lads." "All right, Captain," Michael answered, "we are on watch." The stranger then proceeded towards the house, closely followed by the two sailors. He reached the passage, at the end of which the travellers' room was, at the moment when Master Pivois and his wife were locking themselves in their bedroom. The coach, guarded by the driver and a footman, was still standing in front of the principal entrance, but the three men passed unnoticed. So soon as the landlady had left the room, the traveller who appeared to have a certain degree of authority over his companions, opened the bedroom door, doubtless to make certain there was no spy listening; then he took a chair, sat down by the fire, and made a sign to his companions to imitate him; the two lackeys alone remained standing near the door, with their hands resting on the muzzles of their carbines, butts of which were on the ground. For some moments there was a funereal silence in this room, although six persons were assembled in it. At length the traveller made up his mind to speak, and addressed the young lady, who was reclining in her chair, with her head bent on her breast and pendant arms. "My daughter," he said, in a grave voice, and speaking in Spanish, "the moment has arrived for a clear and distinct explanation between us, for we have only four leagues to travel ere we reach the end of our long journey. I intend to remain twenty-four hours in this hostelry, in order to give you time to repair your strength, and allow you to appear in a proper state before the man for whom I destine you." The young lady only replied to this dry address by a hollow groan. Her father continued, without appearing to notice the utter state of prostration in which she was-- "Remember, my daughter, that if, on the entreaty of your brothers here present, I consented to pardon the fault you have committed, it is on the express condition that you will obey my orders without hesitation, and do all I wish." "My child?" she murmured, in a voice choked by grief--"What have you done with my child?" The traveller frowned, and a livid pallor covered his face; but he immediately recovered himself. "That question again, unhappy girl?" he said, in a gloomy voice; "Do not trifle with my wrath by reminding me of your crime, and the dishonour of my house." At these words the girl drew herself up suddenly, and with a hurried gesture pulled off the velvet mask that covered her face. "I am not guilty," she said, in a haughty voice, and looking her father in the face; "and you are perfectly aware of it, for it was you who introduced the Count de Barmont to me. You encouraged our love, and it was by your orders that we were secretly married. You dare not assert the contrary." "Silence, wretch!" the traveller exclaimed, and rose passionately. "Father!" the two gentlemen, who had hitherto remained motionless and as if strangers to this stormy interview, exclaimed, as they threw themselves before him. "Well," he said, as he resumed his seat, "I will restrain myself: I will only ask you one further question, Doña Clara--will you obey me?" She hesitated for a moment, and then appeared to form a supreme resolution. "Listen to me, my father," she replied, in a hurried though firm voice; "you told me yourself that the moment for an explanation between us had arrived; very well, let us have this explanation. I, too, am your daughter, and jealous of the honour of our house; that is why I insist on your answering me without equivocation or deception." While speaking thus, the young lady, who was only sustained by the factitious strength sorrow imparted to her, for she was frail and delicate, was supremely beautiful; with her body bent back, her head haughtily raised, her long and silky black hair falling in disorder on her shoulders, and contrasting with the marble pallor of her face; with her large eyes, inflamed by fever and inundated with tears, that slowly coursed down her cheeks, and with her bosom heaving from the emotion that held mastery over her--there was about her whole person something deathly, which seemed no longer to belong to the earth. Her father felt involuntarily affected, in spite of his ferocious pride; and it was with a less rough voice he replied-- "I am listening to you." "Father," she resumed, leaning her hand on the back of her chair in order to support herself, "I told you that I am not guilty, and I repeat that the Count de Barmont and myself were secretly united in the church of la Merced at Cadiz, and were so by your orders. As you know it, I will not dwell further on this point; my child is, therefore legitimate, and I have a right to be proud of it. How is it, then, that you, the Duke de Peñaflor, belonging to the highest class in Spain, not satisfied with tearing me on the very day of marriage from the husband yourself selected, and depriving me of my infant on the day of its birth, accused me of committing a horrible crime, and insisted on enchaining me to another husband, while my first is still living? Answer me, my father, so that I may know the nature of that honour about which you so often speak to me, and what is the motive that renders you so cruel to an unfortunate girl, who owes her life to you, and who, ever since she has been in this world, has only felt love and respect for you." "This is too much, unnatural daughter!" the Duke shouted, as he rose wrathfully--"And as you are not afraid of braving me so unworthily--" But he suddenly checked himself, and stood motionless, trembling with fury and horror; the bedroom door had suddenly opened, and a man appeared in it, upright, haughty, with flashing eye, and hand on his sword hilt. "Ludovic, at last!" the young lady shrieked, as she rushed towards him. But her brothers caught her by the arms, and constrained her to sit down again. "The Count de Barmont!" the Duke muttered. "Myself, my lord Duke de Peñaflor," the stranger replied, with exquisite politeness--"you did not expect me, it appears to me?" And, walking a few paces into the room, while the two sailors who had followed him guarded the door, he proudly put his hat on again, and folded his arms. "What is going on here?" he asked, in a haughty voice; "And who dares to use violence to the Countess de Barmont?" "The Countess de Barmont?" the Duke repeated, contemptuously. "It is true," the other remarked, ironically; "I forget that you expect at any moment a dispensation from the Court of Home, which will declare my marriage null and void, and allow you to give your daughter to the man whose credit has caused you to be nominated Viceroy of New Spain." "Sir!" the Duke exclaimed. "What, do you pretend I am in error? No, no, my lord Duke, my spies are as good as yours--I am well served, believe me: thank heaven I have arrived in time to prevent it. Make way there!" he said, repulsing by a gesture the two gentlemen who opposed his passage--"I am your husband, madam; follow me, I shall be able to protect you." The two young men, leaving their sister, who was in a semi-fainting state, rushed on the Count, and both buffeted him in the face with their gloves, while drawing their swords. The Count turned fearfully pale at this cruel insult; he uttered a wild beast yell, and unsheathed. The valets, held in check by the two sailors, had not made a movement. The Duke rushed between the three men, who were ready for the assault. "Count," he said, coolly, to the younger of his sons, "leave to your brother the duty of chastising this man." "Thanks, father," the elder answered, as he fell on guard, while his younger brother lowered the point of his sword, and fell back a pace. Doña Clara was lying motionless on the floor. At the first attack the two enemies engaged their swords up to their guard, and then, as if of common accord, each retreated a step. There was something sinister in the appearance of this inn room at the moment. This woman, who lay writhing on the floor, suffering from a horrible nervous crisis, and no one dreaming of succouring her. This old man, with frowning brow, and features contracted by pain, witnessing with apparent stoicism this duel between his elder son and his son-in-law, while his younger son was biting his lips with fury because he could not assist his brother; these sailors, with pistols at the breasts of the lackeys, who were palsied with terror; and in the centre of the room, scarce lighted by a few smoking candles, these two men, sword in hand, watching like two tigers the moment to slay each other. The combat was not long; too great a hatred animated the two adversaries for them to lose time in feeling each other's strength. The Duke's son, more impatient than the Count, made thrust on thrust, which the other had great difficulty in parrying; at length, the young man feeling himself too deeply engaged, tried to make a second backward step, but his foot slipped on the boards, and he involuntarily raised his sword; at the same moment the Count liberated his blade by a movement rapid as thought, and his sword entirely disappeared in his adversary's chest; then he leaped back to avoid the back thrust, and fell on guard again. But it was all over with the young man; he rolled his haggard eyes twice or thrice, stretched out his arms, while letting go his sword, and fell his whole length on the floor, without uttering a word. He was dead. "Assassin!" his brother screamed, as he rushed sword in hand on the Count. "Traitor!" the latter replied, as he parried the thrust, and sent the other's sword flying to the ceiling. "Stay, stay!" the Duke cried, as he rushed half mad with grief between the two men, who had seized each other round the waist, and had both drawn their daggers. But this tardy interference was useless; the Count, who was endowed with a far from common strength, had easily succeeded in freeing himself from the young man's grasp, and had thrown him on the ground, where he held him by placing his knee on his chest. All at once a mighty rumour of arms and horses was heard in the house, and the hurried steps of several men hurrying up the stairs became audible. "Ah!" the Duke exclaimed, with a ferocious joy, "I believe my vengeance is at hand, at last!" The Count, not deigning to reply to his enemy, turned to the sailors. "Be off, my lads!" he shouted in a voice of thunder. They hesitated. "He goes if you wish to save me," he added. "Boarders away!" Michael yelled, as he dragged away his comrade; and the two men seizing their musquetoons by the barrel, as if to use them as clubs in case of need, and to clear the way, rushed into the passage when they disappeared. The Count listened anxiously, he heard oaths and the sound of an obstinate struggle; then, at the expiration of a moment, a distant cry, that summons which sailors know so well, reached him. Then his face grew calmer, he returned his sword to its sheath and coolly awaited the newcomers, muttering to himself-- "They have escaped, one chance is left me." CHAPTER III. THE ARREST. Almost at the same moment ten or twelve men burst into the room rather than entered it, the noise that continued outside let it be guessed that a great number of others was standing on the stairs and in the passages, ready, were it required, to come to the assistance of the others. All these men were armed, and it was easy to recognise them at once as guards of the King, or rather of His Eminence the Cardinal. Only two of them, with crafty looks and squinting eyes, dressed in black like ushers, had no visible weapons; these, in all probability were more to be feared than the others, for beneath their feline obsequiousness they doubtless concealed an implacable will to do evil. One of these two men held some papers in his right hand, he advanced two or three paces, cast a suspicious glance around him, and then took off his cap with a courteous bow. "In the King's name! gentleman," he said in a quick sharp voice. "What do you want?" the Count de Barmont asked, advancing resolutely towards him. At this movement, which he took for a hostile demonstration, the man in black recoiled with an ill-disguised start of terror, but feeling himself backed up by his acolytes, he at once resumed his coolness, and answered with a smile of evil augury-- "Ah! Ah! The Count Ludovic de Barmont, I believe," he remarked with an ironical bow. "Yes, sir," the gentleman replied haughtily, "I am the Count de Barmont." "Captain in the navy," the man in black imperturbably added, "at present, commanding His Majesty's, frigate The Erigone." "As I told you, sir, I am the person you are in search of," the Count added. "It is really with you that I have to deal, my lord," he replied, as he drew himself up. "S'death, my good gentleman, you are not easy to catch up; I have been running after you for a week, and was almost despairing about having the honour of a meeting." All this was said with an obsequious air, a honeyed voice, and with a sweet smile, sufficient to exasperate a saint, and much more the person whom the strange man was addressing, and who was endowed with anything but a placable character. "By Heaven!" he exclaimed, stamping his foot passionately; "Are we to have much more of this?" "Patience, my good sir," he replied in the same placid tone; "patience, good Heaven, how quick you are!" then after taking a glance at the papers he held in his hand, "Since by your own confession you allow yourself to be really Count Ludovic de Barmont, captain commanding His Majesty's frigate Erigone, by virtue of the orders I bear, I arrest you in the King's name, for the crime of desertion; for having without authorization abandoned your vessel in a foreign country, that is to say, at the Port of Lisbon, in Portugal." Then raising his head and fixing his squinting eyes on the gentleman, he added, "Surrender your sword to me, my lord." M. de Barmont shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. "The sword of a gentleman of my race shall never be placed in the hands of a scoundrel of your stamp," he said, with contempt; and drawing his sword, he coldly broke the blade across his knee, and threw the fragments through the window panes, which they broke. Then he drew his pistols from his belt and cocked them. "Sir, sir!" the myrmidon exclaimed, recoiling in terror, "This is rebellion, remember, rebellion against the express orders of His Majesty and His Eminence the Cardinal Minister." The Count smiled disdainfully, and raising his pistols in the air, fired them, the bullets being buried in the ceiling; then clasping them by the barrel he threw them also out of the window; after which he crossed his hands on his chest, and said coolly-- "Now do with me what you please." "Have you surrendered, my lord?" the fellow asked with ill-disguised alarm. "Yes, from this moment I am your prisoner." The man in black breathed again; although he was unarmed, the haughty gentleman still made him feel uncomfortable. "Still," the latter added, "allow me to say a couple of words to this lady;" and he pointed to Doña Clara, who, waited upon by Dame Tiphaine, who had hurried in at the disturbance in spite of her husband's entreaties and orders, was beginning to regain her senses. "No, not a word, not a syllable," the Duke exclaimed, as he threw himself between his daughter and the Count; "remove the villain, remove him." But the bailiff, pleased with the facility the Count had displayed in surrendering to him, and not wishing to excite his anger, pleased above all at being able to show his authority without incurring resistance, bravely interposed. "Pray, sir, allow the gentleman to speak to the lady," he said, "and to unburden his heart." "But this man is an assassin," the Duke shouted violently, "before us is still lying the corpse of my unhappy son, killed by him." "I pity you, sir," the myrmidon said without being at all affected; "I cannot offer any remedy for that; and you must make application in the proper quarter. Still, if it can be of any comfort to you, be convinced that I shall make a careful note of the accusation you bring, and will recall it to mind at the right time and place. But you must be equally eager to get rid of us, as we are to get away from here: hence allow this gentleman to bid farewell to the lady quietly, and I am convinced it will not take long." The Duke darted a ferocious glance at the bailiff; but, not wishing to compromise himself with such a fellow, he did not answer, and fell back with a gloomy air. The Count had watched this altercation without displaying either impatience or anger; with pale forehead and frowning brow, he waited, doubtless ready to break into some terrible extremity if his request were not granted. The bailiff only required to take one look at him to guess what was passing in his heart; and, not feeling at all anxious for a fresh contest to begin, he had prudently manoeuvred to avoid it. "Come," he said, "speak, my worthy gentleman, no one will oppose it." "Thanks," the Count answered hoarsely and approached Doña Clara, who watched him advance with an ardent gaze fixed on him. "Clara," he said to her in a firm and deeply marked voice, "do you love me?" She hesitated for a moment and bowed her head while heaving a profound sigh. "Do you love me?" he repeated. "I do love you, Ludovic," she replied in a faint and trembling voice. "Do you love me, as your husband before God and man, as the father of your child?" The young lady rose, her black eyes flashed fire, and stretching out her hands before her, she said in a voice choked by emotion-- "In the presence of my father, who is ready to curse me, before the body of my dead brother and in the face of the men who are listening to me, I swear, Ludovic, that I love you as the father of my child, and that I shall remain faithful to you, whatever may happen." "Very good, Clara," he answered, "God has received your oath and will help you to keep it; remember that, whether dead or alive, you belong to me as I belong to you, and that no person on earth shall break the ties that unite us. Now farewell, and keep your courage." "Farewell!" she muttered, as she fell back in her chair and buried her face in her hands. "Let us go, gentlemen! Do with me what you please," the Count said as he turned to the exempt and the guards, who were involuntarily affected by this scene. The Duke bounded with a tiger leap on his daughter, and seizing her right arm with a frenzied gesture, he forced her to raise her tear-swollen face to his, and fixing on her a glance loaded with all the rage that swelled his heart, he said in a voice which fury rendered sibilant-- "Daughter, prepare to marry within two days, the man I destine for you. As for your child, you will never see it again; it no longer exists for you." The young lady uttered a cry of despair and fell back deprived of her senses in the arms of Dame Tiphaine. The Count, who at this moment was leaving the room, stopped short and turned round to the Duke with his arm stretched out toward him: "Hangman," he shouted in a hoarse voice which chilled his auditors with horror, "I curse you, I swear on my honor as a gentlemen to take on you and yours so terrible a vengeance, that the memory of it shall remain eternal; and if I cannot reach you, you and the whole nation to which you belong shall be buried beneath the implacable weight of my hatred. Between us henceforth there is a war of savages and wild beasts, without truce or mercy; farewell." And leaving the proud Spaniard horrified by this fearful anathema, the gentleman quitted the room with a firm step, and taking a last loving glance at the woman he adored, from whom he was perhaps eternally separated. The passages, stairs, and inn garden were filled with armed men; it was evidently a miracle that the two sailors had succeeded in escaping and getting away safe and sound; this gave the Count, hope and he went down the stairs with an assured step, carefully watched by his escort who did not let him out of sight. The guards had been long before warned that they would have to do with a naval officer possessing an inordinate violence of character, prodigious vigour and indomitable courage; hence the resignation of the prisoner, which they believed to be assumed, only inspired them with very slight confidence, and they were continually on the defensive. When they came out into the garden the chief of the exempts noticed the coach, which was still standing at the door. "Why," he said with a grin and rubbing his hands, "here's the very thing we want. In our hurry to get here, we forgot to provide ourselves with a coach; be good enough to get in, my lord," he said as he opened the door. The Count got in without any further hesitation; and the exempts then addressed the driver who was sitting motionless on his box. "Come down, scamp," he said in a tone of authority; "I require the use of this coach for an affair of state. Give up your place to one of my men. Wideawake," he added, turning to a tall impudent looking fellow standing by his side, "get up on the box in that man's place--let us be off." The driver did not attempt to resist this peremptory order; he descended and his place was immediately taken by Wideawake; the exempt then entered the carriage, seated himself facing his prisoner, closed the door, and the steeds, aroused by a vigorous, lash, dashed forward dragging after them the heavy vehicle round which the twenty odd soldiers were collected. For a considerable period the coach rolled along without a word being exchanged between the prisoner and his guard. The Count was thinking, the exempt sleeping, or, to speak more correctly, pretending to sleep. In the month of March the nights are beginning to shorten; daylight soon appeared, and broad white stripes were beginning to cross the sky. The Count, who up to this moment had remained motionless, gave a slight start. "Are you suffering, my lord?" the exempt inquired. This question was addressed to him with an intonation so different from that hitherto employed by the man who had made him prisoner; there was in the sound of his voice an accent so really gentle and sympathizing, that the Count involuntarily started, and took a fixed look at his singular companion: but so far as he could see by the faint light of coming dawn, the man in front of him still had the same crafty face and the same ironical smile stereotyped on his lips. The Count found himself in error, and throwing himself back, merely uttered one word, "No," in a tone intended to break off any attempt at conversation between his guardian and himself. But the former was probably in a humour for talking, for he would not be checked; and pretending not to remark the manner in which his advances had been received, he continued-- "The nights are still chill, the breeze enters this coach on all sides, and I feared lest the cold had struck you." "I am habituated to suffer heat and cold," the Count answered; "besides, it is probable that if I have not yet made my apprenticeship, I am about to undergo one which will accustom me to endure everything without complaining." "Who knows, my lord?" the exempt said, with a shake of the head. "What?" the other objected, "Am I not condemned to a lengthened captivity in a fortress?" "Yes, according to the terms of the order, which it is my duty to carry out." There was a momentary silence. The Count gazed absently at the country which the first beams of day were beginning to illumine. At length he turned to the exempt. "May I ask whither you are taking me?" he said. "I see no objection to your doing so." "And you will answer my question?" "Why not? There is nothing to prevent it." "Then we are going?" "To the isles of St. Marguerite, my lord." The Count trembled inwardly. The islands of Lerins, or Sainte Marguerite, enjoyed at that time, even, a reputation almost as terrible as the one they acquired at a later date, when they served as a prison to the mysterious iron mask, whom it was forbidden to take even a glance at under penalty of death. The exempt looked at him fixedly without speaking. It was the Count who again resumed the conversation. "Where are we now?" he asked. The exempt bent out of the window, and then resumed his seat. "We are just arriving at Corbeil, where we shall change horses." "Ah!" said the Count. "If you wish to rest, I can give orders for an hour's stay. Perhaps you feel a want of some refreshment?" This singular man was gradually acquiring in the Count's eyes all the interest of an enigma. "Very good," he said. Without replying the exempt let down the window. "Wideawake!" he shouted. "What is the matter?" the latter asked. "Pull up at the Golden Lion." "All right." Ten minutes later the coach halted in the Rue St. Spire, in front of a door over which creaked a sign representing an enormous gilt cat, with one of its paws on a ball. They had arrived. The exempt got out, followed by the Count, and both entered the inn: one portion of the escort remained in the saddle in the street, while the others dismounted and installed themselves in the common room. The Count had mechanically followed the exempt, and on reaching the room, seated himself in a chair by the fire, in a first floor decently furnished room. He was too busy with his own thoughts to attach any great attention to what was going on around him. When the landlord had left them alone, the exempt bolted the door inside, and then placed himself in front of his prisoner. "Now," he said, "let us speak frankly, my lord." The latter, astonished at this sudden address, quickly raised his head. "We have no time to lose in coming to an understanding, sir; so please to listen without interrupting me," the exempt continued. "I am François Bouillot, the younger brother of your foster father. Do you recognise me?" "No," the Count replied, after examining him attentively for a moment. "That does not surprise me, for you were only eight years old the last time I had the honor of seeing you at Barmont Castle: but that is of no consequence; I am devoted to you, and wish to save you." "What assures me that you are really François Bouillot, the brother of my foster father, and that you are not attempting to deceive me?" the Count answered, in a suspicious accent. The exempt felt in his pocket, pulled out several papers, which he unfolded, and presented them open to the Count. The latter looked at them mechanically: they consisted of a baptismal certificate, a commission, and several letters proving his identity. The Count handed him the letters back. "How is it that you should have been the man to arrest me, and arrived so opportunely to aid me?" he asked. "In a very simple way, my lord: your order of arrest was obtained from the Cardinal Minister by the Dutch Embassy. I was present when M. de Laffemas, a familiar of his Eminence, who is kind to me, left the Palais Cardinal order in hand: I was there, and he chose me. Still, as I was able to decline, I should have done so, had I not seen your name on the paper, and remembered the kindness your family had shown to me and my brother. Taking advantage of the opportunity my profession of exempt offered me, I resolved to repay you what your friends have done for mine, by attempting to save you." "That does not seem to me very easy, my poor friend." "More so than you may fancy, my lord: I will leave here one-half our escort, and then only ten will remain with us." "Hum! That is a very decent number," the Count replied, involuntarily interested. "They would be too many if there were not among the ten men seven of whom I am certain, which reduces the number of those we have to fear to three. I have been running after you for a long time, my lord," he added, with a laugh, "and all my precautions are taken: through some excuse, easy to be found, we will pass through Toulon, and on arriving there, we will stop for an hour or two at a hostelry I know. You will disguise yourself as a mendicant monk, and leave the inn unnoticed. I will take care to get rid of the guards I am not certain of. You will proceed to the port furnished with papers I will hand you; you will go on board a charming chasse-marée, called the _Seamew_, which I have freighted on your account, and which is waiting for you. The master will recognise you by a password I will tell you, and you will be at liberty to go whither-soever you please. Is not this plan extremely simple, my lord?" he asked, rubbing his hands joyously, "And have I not foreseen everything?" "No, my friend," the Count answered with emotion, as he offered him his hand; "there is one more thing you have not foreseen." "What is that, my lord?" he asked, in surprise. "That I do not wish to fly," the young man answered, with a melancholy shake of the head. CHAPTER IV. THE ISLE OF SAINTE MARGUERITE. At this answer, which he was so far from anticipating, the exempt gave a start of surprise, and looked at the Count as if he had not exactly understood him. The gentleman smiled gently. "That surprises you, does it not?" he said. "I confess it, my lord," the other stammered, with embarrassment. The Count went on: "Yes," he said, "I can understand your surprise at my refusal to accept your generous proposition. It is not often you find a prisoner to whom liberty is offered, and who insists on remaining a captive. I owe you an explanation of this extraordinary conduct; this explanation I will give you at once, so that you may no longer press me, but leave me to act as I think proper." "I am only the most humble, of your servants, my lord Count. You doubtless know better than I what your conduct should be under the circumstances, you have therefore no occasion to explain it to me." "It is precisely because you are an old servant of my family, François Bouillot, and because you are giving me at this moment a proof of unbounded devotion, that I believe myself obliged to tell you the motives for this refusal, which has so many reasons to surprise you. Listen to me, then." "As you insist, my lord, I obey you." "Very good, take a chair, and place yourself here by my side, as it is unnecessary for others beside yourself to hear what I am going to say." The exempt took a stool and seated himself by his master's side, exactly as the latter had ordered, while still keeping up a respectful distance between himself and the gentleman. "In the first place," the Count resumed, "be thoroughly convinced that if I refuse your offer, it is not through any motive of a personal nature as regards yourself. I have full confidence in you, for nearly 200 years your family has been attached to mine, and we have ever had reason to praise their devotion to our interest. This important point being settled, I will go on. I will suppose for a moment that the plan you have formed is successful, a plan which I will not discuss, although it appears to me very difficult to execute, and the slightest accident might, at the last moment, compromise its issue. What will happen? Forced to fly without resources, without friends, I should not only be unable to take the revenge I meditate upon my enemies, but surrendered, so to speak, to their mercy, I should speedily fall into their hands again, and thus become the laughing stock of those whom I hate. I should be dishonoured; they will despise me, and I shall have but one way of escape from a life henceforth rendered useless, as all my plans would be overthrown, and that is blowing out my brains." "Oh! my lord!" Bouillot exclaimed, clasping his hands. "I do not wish to fall," the Count continued imperturbably, "in the terrible struggle which has this day begun between my enemies and myself. I have taken an oath, and that oath I will keep, regardless of the consequences. I am young, hardly twenty-five years of age; up to the present, life has only been one long joy for me, and I have succeeded in everything, plans of ambition, fortune and love. Today misfortune has come to lay its hand on me, and it is welcome; for the man who has not suffered is not a perfect man; grief purifies the mind and tempers the heart. Solitude is a good councillor; it makes a man comprehend the nothingness of small things, expands the ideas, and prepares grand conceptions. I require to steel myself through sorrow, in order to be able one day to repay my enemies a hundredfold all that I have suffered at their hands. It is by thinking over my broken career and my ruined future, that I shall find the necessary strength to accomplish my vengeance. When my heart is dead to every other feeling but that of the hatred which will entirely occupy it, I shall be able pitilessly to trample underfoot all those who today laugh at me and believe they have crushed me, because they have hurled me down; and then I shall be really a man, and woe to those who try to measure their strength with mine. You tremble at what I am saying to you at this moment, my old servant," he added more gently, "what would it be were you able to read in my heart all the hatred, auger, and rage it contains against those who have mercilessly ground me beneath their heel, and who have eternally deprived me of happiness, in order to satisfy the paltry calculations of a narrow and criminal ambition?" "Oh, my lord Count! Permit an old servant of your family, a man who is entirely devoted to you, to implore you to resign these fearful schemes of vengeance. Alas! You will be the first victim of your hatred." "Have you forgotten, Bouillot," the Count replied ironically, "what is said in our country, about the members of the family to which I have the honor of belonging?" "Yes, yes, my lord," he said with a melancholy shake of the head; "I remember it, and will repeat it if you wish." "Do so." "Well, my lord, the distich is as follows--" "'The Counts of Barmont Senectaire, Demon-hate and heart of stone.'" The Count smiled. "Well do you fancy that I have degenerated from my ancestors?" "I suppose nothing, sir, Heaven forbid!" he answered humbly, "I only see with terror that you are preparing a hideous future for yourself." "Be it so! I accept it in all its rigor, if God will permit me to accomplish my oath." "Alas! My lord, you know that man proposes; you are at this moment a prisoner of the Cardinal; reflect, I implore you, who knows whether you will ever leave the prison to which I am conducting you? Consent to be free." "No; cease your entreaties! The Cardinal is not immortal. If not before, my liberty will be restored me on his death, which cannot be long deferred, I hope. And now carefully bear this in mind, my resolution is so fixed, that if in spite of my orders you abandon me here, at the inn where we now are, the first use I should make of the liberty you have given me back, would be to go at once and surrender myself into the hands of his Eminence; you understand me thoroughly, I suppose?" The old servant bowed his head without answering, and two tears slowly ran down his cheeks. This dumb grief, so true and so touching, affected the Count more than he would have supposed; he rose, took the poor fellow's hand and shook it several times. "Let us say no more about this, Bouillot," he remarked to him affectionately, "although I will not profit by it, your devotion has deeply affected me, and I will ever feel eternally grateful to you for it. Come, my old friend, let us not grow foolish; we are men and not childish poltroons, confound it." "Well, no matter, my lord, I do not consider myself beaten," the exempt replied, as he threw himself into the arms open to receive him; "you cannot prevent me from watching over you, whether near or afar." "That I do not oppose, my friend," the Count replied with a laugh; "do as you please; besides," he added seriously, "I confess that I shall not be sorry when I am sequestered from the world to know what is going on, and to be kept informed, of passing events; some unforeseen fact might occur which would modify my intentions and make me desire the recovery of my liberty." "Oh, be sure of that, my lord," he exclaimed, pleased at this quasi victory and conditional promise, "I will arrange so that you shall not be at a loss for news; I have not served his Eminence for six years for nothing; the Cardinal is a good master, I have profited by his teaching, and know several tricks; you shall see me at work." "Well, that is agreed, and we understand each other now. I think it would be wise to breakfast before continuing our journey, for I feel an appetite that greatly requires appeasing." "I will give the landlord orders to serve you at once, my lord." "You will breakfast with me, Bouillot," he said as he gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder; "and I hope it will be always so, until our arrival at the Isle of St. Marguerite." "It is certainly a great honour for me, sir, but--" "I expect it; besides are you not almost a member of my family?" François Bouillot bowed and left the room; after ordering a copious breakfast, he commanded one part of the escort back to Paris; then he returned to the room, followed by the landlord, who, in a second, covered the table with all that was wanted to make a good meal, and withdrew discreetly, leaving his guests to attack the dishes placed before them. The journey was continued without any incident worthy of note. The prisoner's conversation with his keeper had been decisive; the latter was too well acquainted with the character of the man with whom he had to deal to attempt to revert to a subject which had been so distinctly disposed of on the first occasion. At the period when our history takes place, France was not as now intersected by magnificent roads, and the shortest journey demanded an enormous expenditure of time; the coaches, heavy vehicles badly built and worse horsed, had great difficulty in resisting the numerous joltings and the ruts in which they were for the greater portion of the time buried up to the axletree, and hence, in spite of the speed employed, seventeen days elapsed ere the prisoner and his escort arrived at Toulon. This town was even at that early period one of the principal military ports of France, and the Count felt an indescribable pang at heart when he entered it. It was in this town that his naval career had begun, here for the first time he had set foot aboard a vessel with the rank of midshipman, and had undergone the preparatory trials of that rude naval profession, in which, in spite of his youth, he soon attained a great reputation and almost celebrity. The coach stopped in the Haymarket, in front of the "Cross of Malta," probably the oldest inn in France, for it is still in existence, although it has undergone many indispensable changes both internally and externally. So soon as he had installed his prisoner comfortably in the Inn, François Bouillot went out. If he placed a sentry before the Count's door, it was rather in obedience to his duty, than through any fear of escape, for he had not even taken the trouble to lock the door, so convinced was he beforehand that unfortunately his prisoner would not attempt to pass out of it. He remained away for about two hours. "You have been absent a long time," the Count remarked on his return. "I had some important business to settle," he replied. The Count, without adding a word, resumed his walk up and down the room which Bouillot's return had interrupted. There was a momentary silence, Bouillot was evidently embarrassed, he went about the room, pretending to arrange sundry articles of furniture, and disarranging everything; at last seeing that the Count obstinately remained silent and would not perceive that he was in the room, he placed himself in front of him so as to bar his passage, and looked at him intently as he whispered with a stress on the words. "You do not ask where I have been." "What is the use?" the Count replied carelessly; "About your own business, of course." "No, my lord, about yours." "Ah!" he said. "Yes, the _Seamew_ awaits you." The Count smiled and slightly shrugged his shoulders. "Ah, ah, you are still thinking of that; I believed, my dear Bouillot, that it was arranged between us that we should not return to this subject. That was the reason, then, that you lengthened our journey, by making us pass through Toulon, at which I felt surprised. I could not account for the strange itinerary you were following." "My lord," he muttered, clasping his hands imploringly. "Come, you are mad, my dear Bouillot, you ought to know by this time, though, that when I have formed a resolution, good or bad, I never alter it; so no more of this, I beg, it would be quite useless. I pledge you my word as a gentleman." The old servant uttered a groan that resembled a death rattle. "Your will be done, my lord," he stammered. "When do we start for Antibes?" "At once, if you wish it." "Very good, the sooner the better." After bowing, the exempt left the room to make all preparations for departure. As we see, the parts were completely introverted, it was the prisoner who gave orders to his keeper. One hour later, in fact, the Count quitted Toulon. All along the road the two men, constantly companions, and eating and drinking together, conversed about indifferent matters. Bouillot had at last recognized the fact that it was useless to make any further effort to induce the Count to escape; still he had not given up his scheme, but merely deferred it till a more distant period, reckoning as an ally the annoyance of a prolonged detention, and an inactive and useless life upon an organization so impetuous as that of the prisoner. So soon as he arrived at Antibes, by the express command of the Count, who seemed to take a certain pleasure in tormenting him, he set out in search of some boat to carry them across to Sainte Marguerite. His search was neither long nor difficult; as bearer of a Cardinal's order, he laid an embargo on the first fishing boat he came across, and embarked aboard it with all his people. On leaving the mainland, the Count turned, and a smile of peculiar meaning played round his lips. Bouillot, deceived by this smile, whose secret intention he did not penetrate, bent down to the Count's ear. "If you like, there is still time," he whispered. The Count looked at him, shrugged his shoulders, and without replying, sat down in the stern of the boat. "Push off," Bouillot then shouted to the master. The latter seized his boathook, and they were soon under weigh. The Lerins islands form a group composed of several rocks, and two islands surrounded by shoals; the first known as Isle Sainte Marguerite, the second as Saint Honorat. At the period of our narration only the first was fortified; the other, inhabited by a few fishermen, merely contained the still considerable ruins of the monastery founded by Saint Honorat circa the year 400. The Sainte Marguerite island was uninhabited, flat, and only offering along its entire coast, one very unsafe creek for vessels. Although it is extremely fertile, and pomegranates, orange and fig trees, grow there in the open air, no one had thought of taking up his abode there, and we are not aware whether a change has since taken place. A very important fortress, which, at a later date, attained a melancholy reputation as a state prison, was erected on the island, the greater portion of which it occupied. This fort was composed of three towers, connected together by terraces, which time had covered with a yellowish moss, while a wide deep moat surrounded the walls. A few years prior to the beginning of our story, in 1635, the Spaniards had seized it by surprise. The Cardinal, in order to prevent the repetition of such a calamity, had judged it advisable to protect the fort from a _coup de main_, by placing there a garrison of fifty picked soldiers, commanded by a major performing the duties of governor. He was an old officer of fortune, whom this post served as a retreat, and who, far from the cares of the world, led a perfect canonical life, thanks to a tacit understanding with the smugglers, who alone cast anchor in these parts. The officer who commanded the fort at this moment was an old gentleman, tall, thin, and wizened, with harsh features, who had had a leg and arm cut off. His name was Monsieur de l'Oursière; he was constantly scolding and abusing his subordinates, and the day when he left the Crown regiment, in which he held the rank of major, was kept as a holiday by the whole regiment, officers and men; so cordially was the worthy man detested. Cardinal de Richelieu was a good judge of men; in selecting Major de l'Oursière to make him governor of Sainte Marguerite, and metamorphose him into a gaoler, he had found the exact post which suited his quarrelsome temper, and his cruel instincts. It was on this amiable personage that the Count de Barmont would have to be dependant for doubtless a considerable period; for, if the Cardinal Minister easily shut the gate of a state prison on a gentleman, to make up for it, he was never in a hurry to open it again, and a prisoner, unless something extraordinary occurred, was almost safe to die forgotten in his dungeon, except when his Eminence had a whim to have his head cut off in broad daylight. After a number of countersigns had been exchanged with a profuseness of caution which bore witness to the good guard and strict discipline maintained by the governor, the prisoner and his escort were at length introduced into the fortress, and admitted to the Major's presence. The Major was just finishing his breakfast, when a Cardinal's messenger was announced to him: he buttoned his uniform, put on his sword and hat, and ordered the messenger to be shown in. François Bouillot entered, followed by the Count, bowed, and presented the order of which he was the bearer. The governor took it, and read it through; then he turned to the Count, who was standing motionless a few paces in the rear, made him a slight bow, and addressed him in a dry voice, and with a rough accent. "Your servant, sir," he said to him: "are you the Count de Barmont, whose name is written on this paper?" "Yes, sir," the Count answered, bowing in his turn. "I am sorry, sir, truly sorry," the Major resumed; "but I have strict orders with reference to you, and a soldier only knows his duty; still, believe me, sir, hum, hum, that I shall try to reconcile my natural humanity with the rigour that is recommended to me, hum, hum, I know how gentlemen ought to behave to each other, sir; be assured of that." And the governor, doubtless satisfied at the speech he had just uttered, smiled, and drew himself gracefully up. The Count bowed, but made no answer. "You shall be conducted to your apartment at once, sir," the Major went on; "hum, hum! I wish it was handsomer, but I did not expect you; hum, hum, and you know how things are--hum, hum, we will manage to lodge you more comfortably hereafter; la Berloque," he added, turning to a soldier standing near the door, "conduct this gentleman, hum, hum, to room No. 8, in the second turret; hum, hum, I believe it is the most habitable one; your servant, sir, your servant, hum, hum!" And after having thus unceremoniously dismissed the Count, the Major went into another room. M. de Barmont, accompanied by Bouillot and the guards, who had brought him, followed the soldier. The latter led them through several passages, and up various stairs, and then stopped before a door, garnished with formidable bolts. "It is here," he said. The Count then turned to Bouillot, and affectionately offered him his hand. "Farewell, my old friend," he said to him in a gentle but firm voice, while a vague smile played round his lips. "Farewell, till we meet again," Bouillot said, with a stress on the words. Then he took leave of him, and withdrew, with his eyes full of tears. The door closed with a mournful sound on the prisoner. "Oh!" the old servant muttered, as he pensively went down the turret stairs, "Woe to those who venture to oppose the Count, if ever he leaves his prison again! And he shall do so, I swear it, even if I must risk my life in securing his escape." CHAPTER V. A BACKWARD GLANCE. The family of the Count de Barmont Senectaire was one of the most ancient and noble in Languedoc; their origin went back to an antiquity so remote, that we may declare without fear of contradiction that it was lost in the mist of ages. A Barmont Senectaire fought at Bouvines by the side of Philip Augustus. The chronicle of Joinville mentions a Barmont Senectaire, knight banneret, who died of the plague at Tunis, in 1270, during the second crusade of King Louis IX. Francis I. on the evening of the battle of Marignano, gave the rank of Count on the battlefield itself to Euguerrand de Barmont Senectaire, captain of one hundred men at arms, to reward him for his grand conduct and the sturdy blows he had seen him deal during the whole period of that combat of giants. Few noble families have such splendid title deeds among their archives. The Counts de Barmont were always military nobles, and they gave France several celebrated generals. But in the course of time, the power and fortune of this family gradually diminished: during the reign of Henri III. it was reduced to a condition bordering on poverty. Still, justly proud of a stainless past, they continued to carry their heads high in the province, and if the Count de Barmont endured hard privations in order to support his name worthily, nothing of this was visible externally, and everybody was ignorant of the fact. The Count had attached himself to the fortunes of the King of Navarre as much through the hope of regaining a position through the war, as through admiration of this prince, whose genius he had probably divined. A brave soldier, but young, impetuous, and handsome, the Count had several affairs of gallantry. One among others with a lady of the Town of Cahors, affianced to a very rich Spanish noble, whom he succeeded in carrying off on the very day before that appointed for the marriage. The Spaniard, who was very strict in matters affecting his honour, considered this joke in bad taste, and demanded satisfaction of the Count; the latter gave him two sword thrusts, and left him dead on the ground. This affair attracted great attention, and gained the Count much honor among people of refinement; but the Spaniard, contrary to expectation, recovered from his wounds. The two gentlemen fought again, and this time the Count so ill treated his adversary that the latter was constrained to give up all thoughts of a new meeting. This adventure disgusted the Count with gallantry, not that he personally feared the results of the hatred which the Duke of Peñaflor had sworn against him, for he never heard of him again, but because his conscience reproached him with having, for the satisfaction of a caprice which passed away so soon as it was satisfied, destroyed the happiness of an honourable man, and he felt remorse for his conduct in the affair. After bravely fighting by the side of the King during all his wars, the Count finally retired to his estates, about the year 1610, after the death of that Prince, disgusted with the Court, and feeling the necessity of repose after such an amount of fatigue. Here, four or five years later, wearied with the solitude in which he lived, and, perhaps, in the hope of expelling from his mind a troublesome recollection, which, in spite of the time that had elapsed, did not cease to torture him, the Count resolved to marry, and selected for his wife a young lady belonging to one of the best families in the province--charming and gentle, but as poor as himself; this circumstance was far from bringing ease into the family, whose position daily became more difficult. The union, however, was a happy one; in 1616 the Countess was delivered of a son, who at once became the joy of the poor household. This son was Count Ludovic, whose story we have undertaken to tell. In spite of his fondness for the boy, the Count, however, brought him up strictly, wishing to make of him a rude, brave, and loyal gentleman, like himself. Young Ludovic felt at an early hour, on discovering what misery was concealed behind the apparent splendour of his family, the necessity of creating for himself an independent position, which would allow him not only to be no longer a burden to parents whom he loved, and who sacrificed to him the greater portion of their income, but to restore also the eclipsed lustre of the name he bore. Contrary to the custom followed by his ancestors, who had all served the king or his armies, his tastes led him to the navy. Owing to the assiduous care of an old and worthy priest, who had become his tutor through attachment to his family, he had received a solid education, by which he had profited; accounts of voyages, which constituted his principal reading, inflamed his imagination; all his thoughts were turned to America, where, according to the statements of sailors, gold abounded, and he had but one desire--to land himself in this mysterious country, and take his part of the rich crop which everybody garnered there. His father, and his mother even more, for a long time resisted his entreaties. The old man, who had fought during so many years, could not understand why his son should not do the same, or prefer the navy to a commission in the army. The Countess, in her heart, did not wish to see her son either soldier or sailor, for both professions terrified her; she feared for her son the unknown perils of distant excursions, and her tenderness was alarmed by the thought of what might be an eternal separation. Still, something must be done, and as the young man obstinately adhered to his resolution, his parents were compelled to yield and consent to what he desired, whatever might be the future consequences of this determination. The Count still had some old friends at Court, among them being the Duke de Bellegarde, who stood on terms of great intimacy with King Louis XIII., surnamed the "_Just_" during his lifetime, because he was born under the sign of Libra. Monsieur de Barmont had also been connected at an earlier date with the Duke d'Epernon, created Admiral of France in 1587; but he had a repugnance in applying to him, owing to the rumours that were spread at the time of the assassination of Henri IV. Still, in a case so urgent as the present one, the Count comprehended that for the sake of his son he must silence his private feelings, and at the same time as he addressed a letter to the Duke de Bellegarde, he sent another to Epernon, who at this period was Governor of Guyenne. The double answer the Count expected was not long deferred; M. de Barmont's two old friends had not forgotten him, and hastened to employ their credit on his behalf. The Duke d'Epernon especially, better situated through his title of Admiral to be useful to the young man, wrote that he would gladly undertake the duty of pushing him on in the world. This took place at the beginning of 1631, when Ludovic de Barmont had reached his sixteenth year. Being very tall, with a proud and haughty air, and endowed with rare vigour and great agility, the young man seemed older than he in reality was. It was with the liveliest joy that he learned how his wishes had been fulfilled, and that nothing prevented him from embracing a maritime career. The Duke d'Epernon's letter requested the Count de Barmont to send his son as speedily as possible to Bordeaux, so that he might at once place him aboard a man-of-war, to commence his apprenticeship. Two days after the receipt of this letter the young man tore himself with difficulty from the embraces of his mother, bade his father a respectful farewell, and took the road to Bordeaux, mounted on a good horse, and followed by a confidential valet. The navy had for a long time been neglected in France; and left during the middle ages in the hands of private persons, as the government, following the example of the other continental powers, did not deign to try and secure a respectable position on the seas, much less a supremacy; thus we see during the reign of Francis I., who was, however, one of the warlike Kings of France, Ango, a ship broker of Dieppe, from whom the Portuguese had taken a vessel during a profound peace, authorized by the King, who was unable to procure him justice, to equip a fleet at his own expense. With this fleet Ango, we may remark incidentally, blockaded the port of Lisbon, and did not cease hostilities until he had forced the Portuguese to send to France ambassadors humbly to ask peace of the King. The discovery of the New World, however, and the no less important one of the Cape of Good Hope, by giving navigation a greater activity and a more extended sphere, at the same time as they widened the limits of commerce, caused the necessity to be felt of creating a navy, intended to protect merchant vessels against the attacks of corsairs. It was not till the reign of Louis XIII. that the idea of creating a navy began to be carried into execution. Cardinal de Richelieu, whose vast genius embraced everything, and whom the English fleets had caused several times to tremble during the long and wearying siege of Rochelle, passed several decrees relating to the navy, and founded a school of navigation, intended to educate those young gentlemen who desired to serve the King aboard his vessels. It is to this great minister, then, that France is indebted for the first thought of a navy; this navy was destined to contend against the Spanish and Dutch fleets, and during the reign of Louis XIV., to acquire so great an importance, and momentarily hold in check the power of England. It was this school of navigation created by Richelieu that the Viscount de Barmont entered, thanks to the influence of the Duke d'Epernon. The old gentleman strictly kept the pledge he had given his former comrade in arms; he did not cease to protect the young man, which, however, was an easy task, for the latter displayed an extraordinary aptitude, and a talent very rare at that date in the profession he had embraced. Hence, in 1641, he was already a captain in the navy, and had the command of a twenty-six gun frigate. Unfortunately, neither the old Count de Barmont nor his wife was able to enjoy the success of their son or the new era opening for their house; they both died a few days apart from each other, leaving the young man an orphan at the age of two-and-twenty. As a pious son, Ludovic, who really loved his parents, lamented and regretted them, especially his mother, who had always been so kind and tender to him; but, as he had been accustomed for so many years to live alone during his long voyages, and only to trust to himself, he did not feel the loss so painfully as he would have done had he never left the paternal roof. Henceforth the sole representative of his house, he regarded life more seriously than he had hitherto done, and redoubled his efforts to restore to his name its almost eclipsed lustre, which, thanks to his exertions, was beginning to shine again with renewed brilliancy. The Duke d'Epernon still lived, but a forgotten relic of an almost entirely departed generation--a sickly octogenarian, who had quarrelled long ago with Cardinal de Richelieu, his influence was null, and he could do nothing for the man he had so warmly protected a few years previously. But the Count did not allow this to prey on his mind; the naval service was not envied by the nobility, good officers were rare, and he believed that if he cautiously avoided mixing himself up in any political intrigue, he might have a brilliant career. An accident, impossible to foresee, was fated to destroy all his ambitious plans, and ruin his career forever. This is how the affair occurred:--The Count de Barmont, at the time commanding the Erigone, twenty-six gun frigate, after a lengthened cruise in the Algerian waters to protect French merchant vessels against the Barbary pirates, steered for the states of Gibraltar, in order to reach the Atlantic, and return to Brest, whither he had orders to proceed at the end of his cruise; but just as he was about to pass through the Straits, he was caught by a squall, and after extraordinary efforts to continue his course, which almost cast him on to the coast of Africa, owing to the strength of the wind and the rough, chopping sea, he was obliged to stand off and on for several hours, and finally take refuge in the port of Algeciras, which was to windward of him, on the Spanish coast. So soon as he had anchored, and made all snug, the commandant, who knew from experience that two or three days would elapse ere the wind veered, and allowed him to pass the Straits, ordered his boat, and went ashore. Although the town of Algeciras is very old, it is very small, badly built, and scantily populated; at this period, more especially, it only formed, as it were, a poor market town. It was not till after the English had seized Gibraltar, situated on the other side of the bay, that the Spaniards comprehended the importance of Algeciras to them, and have converted it into a regular port. The Captain had no other motive for landing at Algeciras, than the restlessness natural to sailors, which impels them to leave their vessel as soon as they have cast anchor. Commercial relations were not established at that time, as they now are. The government had not yet fallen into the custom of sending to foreign ports residents ordered to watch over their countrymen, and protect their transactions--in a word, consulates had not yet been created: only those ships of war, which accident might lead to any port, now and then undertook to procure justice for those of their countrymen, whose interests had been encroached on. After landing, and giving orders to his coxswain to come and fetch him at sunset, the Captain, merely followed by a sailor, of the name of Michael, to whom he was greatly attached, and who accompanied him everywhere, turned into the winding streets of Algeciras, curiously examining everything that offered itself to view. This Michael, to whom we shall have several occasions to refer, was a tall fellow, with an intelligent face, about thirty years of age, and who had vowed an eternal devotion to his captain since the day when the latter had risked his life in saving his, by jumping into a boat during a terrible storm four years before, to help him when he had fallen into the sea while going up the shrouds to ease the mainsail. Since that day Michael had never left the Count, and had always contrived to sail with him. Born in the vicinity of Pau, the country of Henri IV., he was like the king, his fellow countryman, gay, mocking, and even sceptical. An excellent sailor, endowed with tried bravery, and far from ordinary vigour, Michael offered in his person the perfect type of the Béarnaise Basque, a strong and rough, though loyal and faithful race. Only one individual shared in Michael's heart the unbounded friendship he felt for his chief. This privileged being was a Breton sailor, gloomy and taciturn, who formed a complete antithesis to him, and whom, owing to his slowness, the crew had favoured with the characteristic name of Bowline, which he had accepted, and was so accustomed to answer to it, that he had almost forgotten the name he previously bore. The service the Count had done Michael, the latter had rendered to Bowline: hence he was attached to the Breton through this very service, and while mocking and teasing him from morning till night, he had a sincere friendship for him. The Breton understood Michael, and so far as his reserved and slightly demonstrative nature permitted, he testified on every occasion his gratitude to the Basque, by letting himself be completely directed and governed by him in all the actions of his life, without ever attempting to revolt against the frequent exorbitant demands of his mentor. If we have dwelt so long on the character of these two men, it is because they are destined in the course of this work to play an important part; and the reader must be acquainted with them, in order to understand the facts we shall have to record. The Count and his sailor continued to advance along the streets, the one reflecting and amusing himself the other remaining, through respect, a few paces in the rear, and desperately smoking a pipe, whose stem was so short that the bowl almost touched his lips. While walking thus straight before them, the promenaders soon reached the end of the town, and turned into a lane bordered by aloes, which led, with a rather steep incline, to the top of a hill, whence could be enjoyed the entire panorama of the bay of Algeciras, which, we may remark in a parenthesis, is the finest in the world. It was about two in the afternoon, the hottest moment of the day. The sun profusely poured down its torrid beams, which made the pebbles in the road sparkle like diamonds. Hence everybody had gone within doors to enjoy the siesta, so that, since landing, the two sailors had not met a living creature; and if the Arabian Nights, which were not translated till a century later, had been known at the time, the Count, without any great effort of the imagination, might have believed himself transported to that city where all the inhabitants had been sent to sleep by a wicked impostor, so complete was the silence around him, while the landscape had the aspect of a desert. To complete the illusion, the breeze had fallen, there was not a breath of air, and the vast expanse of water stretched out at their feet was as motionless as if composed of ice. The Count stopped, pensively gazing with an absent eye at his frigate, which at this distance was scarce as large as a skiff. Michael smoked more than ever, and admired the country with straddling legs, and his arm behind his back, in that position so liked by sailors. "Hilloh!" he said suddenly. "What is the matter with you?" the Count asked him, as he turned round. "Nothing the matter with me, Captain," he replied, "I am only looking at a lady who is coming up here at a gallop. What a fancy to go at that pace in such a heat as this." "Where is she?" asked the Count. "Why, there, Captain," he said, stretching out his hand to larboard. The Count turned his eyes in the direction which Michael indicated to him. "Why, that horse has bolted," he exclaimed, a moment later. "Do you think so, Captain?" the sailor remarked, calmly. "Zounds! I am certain of it. Look, now that she is nearer to us. The rider is clinging despairingly to the mane. The unhappy girl is lost!" "Very possibly," Michael said, philosophically. "Quick, quick, my lad!" the Captain shouted, as he rushed to the side where the horse was coming up. "We must save the lady, even if we perish!" The sailor made no answer; he merely took the precaution of withdrawing his pipe from his mouth and placing it in his pocket, and then he set out at a run behind his captain. The horse came on like a whirlwind. It was a barb of the purest Arab race, with a small head, and legs fine as spindles. It bounded furiously with all four legs on the narrow path it was following, with eyes full of flashes, and apparently snorting fire through its dilated nostrils. The lady on its back, half reclining on its neck, had seized its long mane with both hands, and, half insane with terror, as she felt herself lost, she uttered stifled cries at intervals. Very far in the rear, several horsemen, who formed almost imperceptible dots on the horizon, were coming up at full speed. The track on which the horse was engaged, was narrow and rocky, and led to a precipice of frightful depth, toward which the animal was dashing with a headlong speed. A man must either be mad, or endowed with a lion's courage, to try and save this unhappy woman under such conditions, when he had ninety-nine chances in a hundred of being crushed, without succeeding in rescuing her from death. The two sailors, however, made no reflections of this nature, and without hesitation resolved to make a supreme effort. They stood facing each other on either side of the track, and waited without exchanging a word. They understood one another. Two or three minutes elapsed, and then the horse passed like a tornado; but with the speed of thought the two men dashed forward, seized it by the bridle, and, hanging their whole weight on it, allowed themselves to be dragged onward by the furious animal. There was for a moment a terrible struggle between intelligence and brute strength. At length the brute was conquered. The horse stumbled, and fell panting on the ground. At the moment of its fall, the Count removed in his arms, the lady so miraculously saved, and he bore her to the side of the road, where he respectfully laid her down. Terror had certainly deprived her of consciousness. The Count guessing that the horsemen coming up, were relations or friends of her to whom he had just rendered so great a service, repaired the disorder in his clothes and awaited their arrival, while gazing admiringly at the young lady lying at his feet. She was a charming young creature, scarce seventeen years of age, with a delicate waist, and marked and adorably beautiful features; her long black silky hair had escaped from the comb that confined it and fell in perfumed curls over her face, on which a slight flush presaged a speedy return to life. The young lady's dress, which was very rich and remarkably elegant, would have led to the supposition that she was of high rank, had not the stamp of aristocracy, spread over her entire person, removed all doubts on that score. Michael, with his characteristic coolness which nothing ever upset, had remained by the side of the horse which, calmed by the fall and trembling in all its limbs, had allowed itself to be raised without offering the slightest resistance; the Basque after removing the saddle, had plucked a wisp of grass, and began rubbing the horse down, while admiring it, and muttering every now and then. "I don't care, it's a noble and beautiful animal! It would have been a pity had it rolled over that frightful precipice; I am glad it is saved." The worthy sailor did not think the least bit in the world of the young lady, for his entire interest was concentrated on the horse. When he had finished rubbing down, he put the saddle and bridle on again and led the horse up to the Count. "There," he said with an air of satisfaction, "now the horse is calm; poor creature, a child could guide it with a thread." In the meanwhile the horsemen rapidly approached, and soon came up to the two French sailors. CHAPTER VI. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. These horsemen were four in number. Two of them appeared to be persons of importance, the other two were domestics. On coming within a few steps of the Count, the first two dismounted, threw their bridles to the footman and advanced, hat in hand, towards the gentleman, whom they saluted with exquisite politeness. The Count courteously returned their greeting, while taking a side-glance at them. The first was a man of about sixty; he was tall, his demeanour was graceful and his face appeared handsome at the first glance, for the expression was imposing, although gentle and even kind. Still, on examining it with greater attention, it was possible to see from the gloomy fire of his glance, which seemed at times to emit magnetic flashes, that this gentleness was merely a mask intended to deceive the vulgar; his projecting cheek bones, his wide retiring forehead, his nose bent like a bird's beak and his square chin denoted a cold cruelty blended with a strong dose of obstinacy and pride. This man wore a handsome hunting dress covered with lace, and a heavy gold chain, called a _fanfaronne_, was passed several times round his ostrich plumed hat. This fanfaronne had been brought into fashion by the adventurers who returned from New Spain; and though very ridiculous, it had been enthusiastically adopted by the haughty Castilians. This gentleman's companion, much younger than he, but dressed quite as richly, had one of those faces whose features at the first glance appear so commonplace and insignificant, that you do not take the trouble of looking at them, and an observer might pass close by without seeing them, but his small grey eyes sparkling with cleverness, half hidden under bushy eyebrows, and the curl of his thin sarcastic lip, would have completely contradicted any physiognomist, who might take this person for a man of common intellect and ordinary capacity. The elder of the two riders bowed a second time. "Sir," he said, "I am the Duc de Peñaflor; the person whose life you have saved by running such a risk of losing your own, is my daughter, Doña Clara de Peñaflor." As the Count came from Languedoc, he spoke Spanish as purely as his mother tongue. "I am delighted, sir," he replied with a graceful bow, "at having served as the instrument of providence to preserve a child for her father." "I think," the second rider observed, "that it would be as well to offer Doña Clara some succour; my dear cousin seems to be seriously indisposed." "It is only emotion," the young man replied; "that caused this fainting fit, which, if I am not mistaken, is beginning to wear off." "Yes indeed," said the Duke, "I think I saw her make a slight movement, it will be better not to trouble her, but let her regain her senses quietly; in that way, we shall avoid a shock whose results are sometimes very dangerous to delicate and nervous organisations, like that of my dear child." All this was spoken with a cold, dry, steady voice, very different to what a father ought to have employed, whose daughter had just miraculously escaped death. The young officer did not know what to think of his real or feigned indifference. It was only Spanish hauteur. The Duke loved his daughter as much as his proud and ambitious nature allowed him to do, but he would have been ashamed to let it be seen, especially by a stranger. "Sir," the Duke resumed a moment later, as he stepped aside to display the gentlemen who accompanied him, "I have the honour of presenting to you my cousin and friend, Count Don Stenio de Bejar y Sousa." The two gentlemen bowed to each other. The Count had no motive to maintain an incognito, and saw that the moment had arrived to make himself known. "Gentlemen," he said, "I am Count Ludovic de Barmont Senectaire, Captain in the Navy, and commanding the French frigate the _Erigone_, now anchored in Algeciras Bay." On hearing the Count's name pronounced, the Duke's face turned frightfully pale; he frowned till his eyebrows joined, and he gave him a strangely meaning glance. But this emotion did not last longer than a flash: by a violent effort of the will the Spaniard thrust back to the bottom of his heart, the feelings that agitated him; his previous impassiveness returned to his face, and he bowed with a smile. The ice was broken between the three gentlemen, for they saw they were equals; their manner at once changed, and they became as affable as they had at first been stiff and reserved. The Duke was the first to renew the conversation in the most friendly voice. "You are doubtless taking advantage of the truce made a short time back, between our two nations, my lord, to visit our country?" "Pardon me, my lord Duke, I was not aware that hostilities had ceased between our two armies. I have been at sea for a long time, and without news of France; chance alone brought me to this coast a few hours ago, and I sought shelter in Algeciras Bay, to await a change of wind to pass the Straits." "I bless the accident, Count, since I owe to it my daughter's safety." Doña Clara had opened her eyes, and, though still very weak, she was beginning to account for the position in which she found herself. "Oh," she said, in a soft and humorous voice, and with an inward shudder, "had it not been for that gentleman, I should be dead!" and she attempted to smile, while fixing on the young man her large eyes full of tears, with an expressive gratitude it is impossible to describe. "How do you feel, my daughter?" the Duke asked. "I am quite well, now, I thank you, papa," she replied; "when I felt that Moreno no longer obeyed the bit, and was running away, I believed myself lost, and terror caused me to faint; but where is my poor Moreno?" she added a moment after, "Has any misfortune happened to him?" "Reassure yourself, señorita," the Count replied with a smile, and pointing to the horse, "here he is, all right, and quite calmed; if you like you can ride back on him without the slightest apprehension." "I certainly will mount my good Moreno," she said, "I bear him no ill will for his prank, although it nearly cost me dear." "My lord," the Duke then said, "I venture to hope that we shall not part thus, and that you will deign to accept the cordial hospitality which I offer you at my castle." "My time is not my own, unfortunately, my lord Duke, and duty demands my immediate presence on board. Be assured I deeply regret my inability to accept your kind offer." "Do you then expect to set sail so soon?" "No, sir; on the contrary, I hope," he replied, laying a certain stress on the words, "to remain here some time longer." "In that case," the Duke remarked with a smile, "I do not consider myself beaten. I am certain we shall meet again soon, and become more intimate acquaintances." "That is my most eager desire, sir," the young man said, taking a side glance at Doña Clara, who hung her head with a blush. The Count then took leave, and proceeded in the direction of Algeciras, while the horsemen slowly retired in exactly the opposite direction. The Captain walked on very thoughtfully, reflecting on the singular adventure of which he had so suddenly been the hero; recalling the slightest details, and admiring in memory the beauty of the young lady, whose life he had been so fortunate as to save. Being constantly absorbed by the thousand claims of his rude profession, and nearly always at sea, the Count, though almost twenty-five years of age, had never yet loved; he had not even thought about it; the few women he had hitherto met had produced no effect on his heart, his mind had always remained free in their presence, and no serious engagement had as yet disturbed its tranquillity. Hence it was with a certain terror mingled with astonishment, that while reflecting on the meeting which had suddenly interrupted his quiet walk, he perceived that the beauty of Doña Clara and her gentle voice had left a powerful impression on his mind, that her image was ever present, and that his memory with implacable fidelity ever recalled even its apparently most indifferent details, the short interview he had had with her. "Come, come," he said, shaking his head several times as if to drive away a troublesome thought; "I am mad." "Well, Captain," said Michael, who took advantage of this exclamation, to give a free course to the reflections which he burned to express aloud, "I don't care, but you must confess it was very lucky all the same for that young lady, that we were there at the very nick of time." "Very lucky, indeed, Michael," the Count replied, delighted at this diversion; "had we not been there the unhappy young lady would have been lost." "That is true, and hopelessly so; poor little thing." "What a frightful fate! So young, and so lovely." "I allow that she is well built, although I fancy her lines are a little too fine, and she is a trifle too pale." The Count smiled, but made no reply to the sailor's rather venturesome opinion. The latter, feeling himself encouraged, went on-- "Will you allow me to give you a bit of advice, Captain?" "What is it, my lad? Speak without fear." "As for fear, deuce take me if I feel that, but I should not like to pain you." "Pain me, about what?" "Well, all the worse, I must out with it. When you mentioned your name, Captain, to the old Duke--" "Well, what happened?" "On hearing it pronounced, he suddenly turned as pale as a corpse; he frowned upon you so terrible a look that I fancied for a moment that he wished to assassinate you; don't you consider that funny, Captain?" "What you say is impossible; you are mistaken." "You did not notice it, because you had your head down, but I was looking at him without seeming to do so, and am quite certain about what I say." "But reflect, Michael, I do not know this nobleman, I never saw him before today; how can he possibly feel hatred for me; you are rambling, my good fellow." "Not at all, Captain, I am certain of what I state; whether you know him or not is no business of mine, but as for him, I will wager that he knows you, and intimately too; the impression you produced on him was too strong for it to be otherwise." "I will admit, if you like, that he knows me, but one thing I can certify, that I never offended him." "That is a point on which a man can never be sure, Captain; look you, I am a Basque, and have known the Spaniards for a long time; they are a strange people--proud as cocks, and rancorous as fiends; believe me, distrust them always; that can do no harm, and especially that old gentleman, who has a crafty face I do not like at all." "All that has no common sense, Michael, and I am as mad as yourself in listening to you." "Very well," the sailor said with a toss of the head, "we shall see hereafter whether I am mistaken." The conversation ended here; still Michael's remarks occupied the Captain more than he would have liked to show, and he returned on board with a very thoughtful air. On the next morning at about ten o'clock an excellent pleasure yacht hailed the frigate. This vessel contained the Duc de Peñaflor, and his silent cousin, Count de Bejar y Sousa. "On my faith, my dear Count," the Duke said, good-humouredly, after the first compliments, "you are going to find me very unceremonious, for I have come to carry you off." "Carry me off?" the young man replied with a smile. "On my word, yes. Just imagine, Count, my daughter insists on seeing you; she only speaks of you, and as she does pretty well what she pleases with me--a thing that will not surprise you greatly. She sent me to you to tell you that you must absolutely accompany me to the castle." "So it is," Don Stenio said with a bow, "the Señorita Doña Clara insists on seeing you." "Still--" the other objected. "I will listen to nothing," the Duke remarked quickly, "you must make up your mind, my dear Count, you can only obey, for you are aware that ladies cannot be thwarted; so come, reassure yourself, though, I am not going to take you far, for my castle is scarce two leagues from here." The Count, who in his heart, felt a lively desire to see Doña Clara again, did not allow himself to be pressed one bit more than was correct: then, after giving the necessary orders to his second in command, he accompanied the Duc de Peñaflor, followed by Michael, who seemed to be the Captain's shade. This was the way in which began a connection which was soon to be changed into love, and have, at a later date, such terrible consequences for the unhappy officer. The Duke and his eternal cousin who never quitted him, overwhelmed the Count with protestations of friendship, granted him the most perfect liberty at the castle, and appeared not at all to notice the intelligence which was soon established between Doña Clara and the young man. The latter, completely subjugated by the passion he experienced for the young lady, yielded to his love with the confident and unreflecting abandonment of all hearts that love for the first time. Doña Clara, a simple girl, brought up with all the rigid strictness of Spanish manners, but an Andalusian from head to foot, had listened with a quiver of delight to the confession of this love which she had shared from the first moment. Everybody, therefore, was happy at the castle; Michael alone formed an exception, with his stolid face, which was never unwrinkled; the more rapidly he saw matters tending to the conclusion the young people desired, the more gloomy and anxious he became. In the meanwhile the frigate had left Algeciras for Cadiz. The Duke, his daughter, and Don Stenio had made the passage on board; the Duc de Peñaflor wanted to go to Seville, where he had large estates, hence he accepted with eager demonstrations of joy the proposal the Count made him, of conveying him on board his frigate to Cadiz, which is only some twenty leagues from Seville. On the day after the frigate's arrival at Cadiz, the Captain put on his full uniform, went ashore, and proceeded to the Duke's palace. The Duke, doubtless warned of his visit, received him with a smile on his lips, and with a most affectionate air. Emboldened by this reception, the Count, overcoming his timidity, requested leave to marry Doña Clara. The Duke received it favourably; said that he had expected this request, and that it satisfied all his wishes, since it caused the happiness of a daughter he loved. "Still," he remarked to the Count, "although there was a truce between the two countries, a peace was not yet signed. Though, according to all appearance it would be soon carried out, for all that, he feared lest the news of this marriage might injure the Count's future, by rendering the Cardinal ill disposed toward him." This reflection had several times offered itself to the young officer's mind; hence he hung his head, not daring to reply, because, unluckily, he had no valid reason to offer, that would remove the Duke's objections. The latter came to his assistance by saying that there was a very simple way of arranging matters to the general satisfaction, and removing this apparently insurmountable difficulty. The Count quivering with fear and pleasure, asked what this method was. The Duke then explained to him that he meant a secret marriage. As long as the war lasted, silence would be maintained, but once peace was concluded and an ambassador sent to Paris, the marriage should be publicly announced to the Cardinal, who then would probably not feel offended by the union. The young man had been too near seeing his dream of bliss eternally destroyed to raise the slightest objection to this proposition; secret or not, the marriage would not be the less valid and he cared little for the rest. Hence he consented to all the conditions imposed on him by the Duke, who insisted that the marriage might be effected in such a way as to keep him in ignorance of it, so that in the event of his Eminence attempting to turn the King against him, he might employ this pretended ignorance in foiling the ill will of those who might attempt to ruin him. The Count did not exactly understand what the King of Spain had to do with his marriage; but as the Duke spoke with an air of conviction, and seemed to be greatly alarmed about the King's displeasure, he consented to everything. Two days later at nightfall, the young couple were married at the Church of la Merced, by a priest, who consented for a heavy sum to lend his ministration to this illegal act. Michael the Basque and Bowline served as witnesses of the captain, who, on the pressing recommendation of the Duke, was unwilling to let any of his officers into his secrets, while he was sure of the silence of the two sailors. Immediately after the ceremony, the new bride was taken off on one side by her witnesses, while her husband withdrew greatly annoyed on the other, and went aboard the frigate. When the Count on the next morning presented himself at the Duke's palace, the latter informed him that, in order to remove any pretext for malevolence, he had thought it advisable to send away his daughter for a while, and she had gone to stay with a relation residing at Grenada. The Count did not allow his disappointment to be seen; he withdrew, pretending to accept as gospel the somewhat specious reasoning of the Duke. Still, he was beginning to find the Duke's conduct towards him very extraordinary, and he resolved to clear up the doubts that arose in his mind. Michael and Bowline were sent into the country to reconnoitre. The Count learned from them, not without surprise, at the end of two days' researches that Doña Clara was not at Grenada, but merely at Puerto Santa Maria, a charming little town facing Cadiz on the opposite side of the road. The Captain, so soon as he possessed the information for the success of the plan he meditated, managed by the intervention of Michael, who spoke Spanish like an Andalusian, to send a note to Doña Clara, and at nightfall, followed by his two faithful sailors, he landed at Santa Maria. The house inhabited by the young lady was rather isolated; he set the two sailors on sentry to watch over her safety, and walked straight up to the house. Doña Clara herself opened the door for him. The joy of the couple was immense, and the Count retired shortly before sunrise; at about ten o'clock, he went as usual to pay a visit to his father-in-law, in whose presence he continued to feign the most complete ignorance as to Doña Clara's abode, and was most kindly welcomed. This state of things went on for nearly a month. One day the Count suddenly received information of the resumption of the hostilities between Spain and France; he was himself forced to quit Cadiz, but wished to have a final interview with the Duke, in order to ask him for a frank explanation of his conduct; in the event of this explanation not satisfying him, he was resolved to carry his wife off. When he arrived at the Duke's palace, a confidential servant informed him that his master, suddenly summoned by the king, had started an hour previously to Madrid, without, to his great regret, having had time to take leave of him. On hearing this, the Count had a presentiment of evil; he turned pale, but succeeded in overcoming his emotion, and calmly asked the valet whether his master had not left a letter for him; the servant answered in the affirmative and handed him a sealed note. The Count broke the seal with a trembling hand and ran through the letter, but his emotion was so great on perusing the contents that he tottered, and had not the valet sprang forward to support him, he would have fallen to the ground. "Ah!" he muttered, "Michael was right," and he crumpled the paper savagely. But suddenly recovering himself, he overcame his grief and, after giving the valet several louis, hurried away. "Poor young man!" the valet muttered with a sorrowful shake of the head and re-entered the palace, the gates of which he closed after him. CHAPTER VII. DESPAIR. A few yards from the palace the Count met Michael, who was coming towards him. "A boat, quick, quick, my good Michael," he shouted, "'tis a matter of life and death." The sailor, terrified at the condition in which he saw his commandant, wished to ask him what the matter was, but the Count roughly imposed silence on him by repeating his order to procure a boat at once. Michael bowed his head. "Woe is me. I foresaw this," he muttered, with mingled grief and anger, and he ran off towards the port. It is not a difficult task to find a boat at Cadiz, and Michael had only to choose; comprehending that the Count was in a hurry, he selected one pulled by ten oars. The Count arrived at the same moment. "Twenty louis for you and your crew if you are at Puerto in twenty minutes," he shouted, as he leaped into the boat, which was almost capsized by the violence of the shock. The boat started, the sailors bent over their oars, and made her fly through the water. The captain with his eyes obstinately fixed on Santa Maria, and striking his clenched fist on the boat's gunwale, in spite of the excessive speed at which it was going, incessantly repeated in a choking voice-- "Quicker, quicker, muchachos." He passed like an arrow across the bows of the frigate, whose crew were preparing to weigh anchor. At length they reached Puerto. "No one is to follow me," the captain cried, as he leaped ashore. But Michael did not heed this order, and at the risk of what might happen to him, he set out in pursuit of the Count, whom he would not abandon in his present frightful condition. It was fortunate he did so, for when he reached the house Doña Clara had inhabited, he saw the young man lying senseless on the ground. The house was deserted, and Doña Clara had disappeared. The sailor took his captain on his shoulders and conveyed him to the boat, where he laid him as comfortably as he could in the stem sheets. "Where are we going?" the master asked. "To the French frigate; and make haste," Michael replied. When the boat was alongside the frigate, Michael paid the master the promised reward, and then aided by several of the crew, conveyed the captain to his cabin. As it was eminently necessary to keep the Count's secret, and avoid arousing suspicions, the sailor in his report to the first commandant, ascribed to a violent fall from a horse, the condition in which the captain was; then, after making a signal to Bowline to follow him, he returned to the cabin. M. de Barmont was still as motionless as if he were dead; the chief surgeon of the frigate in vain bestowed the greatest care on him without succeeding in recalling life, which seemed to have fled forever. "Send away your assistants; Bowline and myself will suffice," Michael said to the doctor, with a meaning glance. The surgeon comprehended, and dismissed the mates. When the door had closed on them the sailor drew the doctor into a gun berth, and said to him, in so low a voice as to be scarce audible-- "Major, the Commandant has just experienced a great sorrow, which produced the terrible crisis he is suffering from at this moment. I confide this to you because a surgeon is like a confessor." "All right, my lad," the surgeon replied; "the Captain's secret has been trusted to sure ears." "I am convinced of that, Major; the officers and crew must suppose that the Captain has been thrown from his horse, you understand. I have already told the lieutenant so in making the report." "Very good; I will corroborate your statement, my lad." "Thanks, Major; now I have another thing to ask of you." "Speak." "You must obtain the lieutenant's leave that no one but Bowline and myself may wait on the Captain. Look you, Major, we are old sailors of his, he can say what he likes before us; and then, too, he will be glad to have us near him; will you get this leave from the lieutenant?" "Yes, my lad; I know that you are a good fellow, sincerely attached to the Captain, and that he places entire confidence in you; hence, do not feel alarmed--I will settle that with the lieutenant, and you and your companion shall alone come in here with me so long as the Captain is ill." "Thanks, Major; if an opportunity offers itself I will repay you this; on the faith of a Basque, you are a worthy man." The surgeon began laughing. "Let us return to our patient," he said, in order to cut short the conversation. In spite of the intelligent care the doctor paid him the Count's fainting fit lasted the whole day. "The shock was frightful," he said--"it was almost a congestion." It was not till night, when the frigate had been for a long time at sea, and had left Cadiz roads far behind it, that a favourable crisis set in, and the Captain became slightly better. "He is about to regain his senses," the doctor said. In fact, a few convulsive movements agitated the Count's body, and he half-opened his eyes; but his glances were wild and absent; he looked all around him, as if trying to discover where he was, and why he was thus lying on his bed. The three men, with their eyes fixed on him, anxiously watched this return to life, whose appearance was anything but reassuring to them. The surgeon, more especially, seemed restless; big forehead was wrinkled, and his eyebrows met, through the effort of some internal emotion. All at once the Count hurriedly sat up, and addressed Michael, who was standing by his side. "Lieutenant," he said to him, in a quick, sharp voice, "let her fall off a point, or else the Spanish vessel will escape--why have you not beat to quarters, sir?" The surgeon gave Michael a sign. "Pardon, Commandant," the latter replied, humouring the sick man's fancy, "we have beaten to quarters, and the tops are all manned." "Very good," he answered; then suddenly changing his ideas, he muttered--"She will come, she promised it me. But no, she will not come; she is dead to me henceforth--dead! dead!" he repeated, in a hollow voice, with different intonations; then he uttered a piercing cry--"Oh, heaven! How I suffer!" he exclaimed, bursting into sobs, while a torrent of tears inundated his face. He buried his head in his hands, and fell back on his bed. The two sailors anxiously examined the surgeon's impassive face, trying to read in his features what they had to hope or fear. The latter uttered a deep sigh of relief, passed his hand over his damp forehead, and turning to Michael, said-- "Heaven be praised! He sheds tears--he is saved." "Heaven be praised!" the sailors repeated, crossing themselves devoutly. "Do you think he is mad, Major?" Michael asked, in a trembling voice. "No, it is not madness, but delirium; he will soon fall asleep--do not leave him; when he awakes he will remember nothing. If he ask for drink give him the potion I have prepared, and which is on that table." "Yes, Major." "Now I am going to retire; if any unforeseen accident occur, warn me at once; but, in any case, I shall look in again tonight." The surgeon left the cabin; his previsions were soon realised, M. de Barmont gradually fell into a calm and peaceful sleep. The two sailors stood motionless by his bedside; no nurse could have watched a patient with greater care and more delicate attention than did these two men, whose exterior seemed so hard, but whose hearts were really so kind. The whole night passed away thus; the surgeon had come in several times, but after a few minutes' examination he withdrew with an air of satisfaction, and laying a finger on his lips. About morning, at the first sunbeam that entered the cabin, the Count made a slight movement, opened his eyes, and slightly turned his head. "My good Michael, give me some drink," he said, in a feeble voice. The sailor handed him a glass. "I feel crushed," he muttered; "have I been ill?" "Yes, a little," the sailor replied; "but now it is all over, thank heaven! You need only have patience." "I feel the motion of the frigate--are we under weigh?" "Yes, Commandant." "And who gave the orders?" "Yourself, last night." "Ah!" he remarked, as he handed back the glass. His head fell heavily on the pillow again, and he was silent. Still, he did not sleep; his eyes were opened, and gazed anxiously all around. "I remember," he murmured, while two tears welled in his eyes; then he suddenly addressed Michael. "It was you who picked me up and brought me aboard?" "Yes, Captain, 'twas." "Thanks! and yet it would have perhaps been better to leave me to die." The sailor shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. "That is a fine idea, strike me!" he grumbled. "Oh, if you only knew," he said, sorrowfully. "I knew all; did I not warn you of it the first day?" "That is true; I ought to have believed you--but, alas! I already loved her." "Zounds! I knew that, and she deserved it." "Does she still love me?" "Who can doubt it, poor dear creature?" "You are a good man, Michael." "I am just." There was another silence. At the expiration of a few minutes the Count renewed the conversation. "Did you find the letter?" he asked. "Where is it?" "Here," he said, as he handed it to him. The Count eagerly clutched it. "Have you read it?" he asked. "For what purpose?" said Michael. "Zounds, it must be a tissue of lies and infamies! And I am not curious about reading such things." "There, take it," said the Count. "To tear it up?" "No, to read it." "What's the good?" "You must know the contents of the letter--I order it." "That is different--give it here." He took the letter, opened, and ran through it. "Read it aloud," said the Count. "That is a pretty job you give me, Commandant. Still, as you wish it, I must obey you." "I implore you, Michael." "Enough, Captain." And he began reading the strange missive aloud. It was short and laconic, but on that very account it necessarily produced a more terrible effect, because every word was carefully chosen to go straight home. The following was its tenor:-- MY LORD, You have not married my daughter: I defrauded you by a false marriage. You shall never see her again--she is dead to you. For many years there has been an implacable hatred between your family and mine. I should not have gone to seek you, but Heaven itself brought you in my way. I understood that it was desired I should avenge myself, and I obeyed. I believe that I have succeeded in breaking your heart forever. The love you have for my daughter is sincere and deep. All the better, for you will suffer the more cruelly. Farewell, my lord. Believe me, you had better not try to find me, for, if you succeed, my vengeance will be even more terrible. My daughter will marry in a month the man she loves, and whom alone she has ever loved. "Don Estevan de Sylva, Duc de Peñaflor." When the sailor had finished reading he turned an enquiring glance to his chief. The latter shook his head several times, but made no other reply. Michael handed back the letter, which the Captain at once concealed beneath his pillow. "What do you intend to do?" the sailor asked him, a moment after. "You shall know hereafter," the Count answered, in a hollow voice. "I could not form a determination now, for my head is still heavy, and I require to reflect." Michael gave a nod of assent. At this moment the doctor came in. He appeared delighted at seeing his patient in so good a state, and with a joyous rubbing of his hands, promised that he should leave his bed in a week at the latest. In fact, the surgeon was not mistaken, for the Count rapidly recovered; ere long he was able to rise, and at the end of a few days, were it not for a cadaverous pallor spread over his face, and which he ever retained, his strength seemed to have entirely come back to him. M. de Barmont steered his frigate up the Tagus, and anchored before Lisbon. So soon as the vessel was moored the Captain summoned the second in command to his cabin, and had a long conversation with him, after which he went ashore with Michael and Bowline. The frigate remained under the command of the first lieutenant: the Count had abandoned it for ever. This deed almost constituted a desertion; but M. de Barmont was resolved on returning to Cadiz at all hazards. During the few days that had elapsed since his conference with Michael, the Count had reflected, as he promised the sailor. The result of his reflections was, that Doña Clara had been deceived by the Duke like himself, and believed herself really married--indeed, the whole of the young lady's behaviour to him proved the fact. In desiring to insure his vengeance too thoroughly, the Duke had gone beyond his object: Doña Clara loved him, he felt certain of that. She had only obeyed her father under the constraint of force. This admitted, only one thing was left the Count to do; to return to Cadiz, collect information, find the Duke, and have a solemn explanation with him in his daughter's presence. This plan drawn up in his mind, the young man immediately set, about carrying it out, leaving the command of his vessel to the lieutenant, at the risk of destroying his career and being pursued as a traitor, as the war was raging between France and Spain. He freighted a coaster; and, followed by his two sailors, to whom he had frankly explained his intention, but who would not leave him, he returned to Cadiz. Thanks to the thorough knowledge of Spanish he possessed, the Count did not arouse any suspicions in that city, where it was easy for him to obtain the information he desired. The Duke had really set out for Madrid. The Count at once proceeded to that city. A gentleman of the importance of the Duc de Peñaflor, a grandee of Spain of the first class, a _caballero cubierto_, could not travel without leaving traces, especially when nothing led him to suspect that he was followed. Hence the Count had not the slightest difficulty in discovering the route he had taken, and he arrived at Madrid, persuaded that he should soon have with the Duke the explanation he so ardently desired. But his hopes were foiled. The Duke, after being honored with a private audience by the King, had set out for Barcelona. Fatality interfered, but the Count would not be baffled: he mounted his horse, crossed Spain, and arrived at Barcelona. The Duke had embarked for Naples on the previous day. This pursuit was assuming the proportions of an Odyssey: it seemed as if the Duke felt that he was being pursued. It was not so, however. He was carrying out a mission with which his sovereign had entrusted him. The Count made enquiries, and learnt that the Duc de Peñaflor was accompanied by his daughter, and two sons. Two days later, M. de Barmont was sailing to Naples, on board a smuggling vessel. We will not enter into all the details of this obstinate pursuit, which lasted for several months. We will confine ourselves to saying that the Count missed the Duke at Naples, as he had missed him at Madrid and Barcelona, and that he traversed the whole of Italy, and entered France, still in chase of his intangible enemy, who seemed to fly before him. But during the interval, although the Count did not suspect, the parts had been greatly modified, if not completely changed. In this way. The Duke had a great interest in knowing what the Count would do. Though it was certain that the war would compel him to leave Spain, still he was too well acquainted with the young man's resolute and determined character to suppose for a moment that he would accept the insult offered him, without trying to take a startling revenge. In consequence, he had left at Cadiz a confidential man with orders to watch the Count's movements with the greatest care, in the event of his reappearing, and to warn the Duke of what steps he might take. The man had conscientiously and most skilfully discharged the delicate duty entrusted to him, and while the Count was pursuing the Duke, he pursued the Count, never letting him out of sight, stopping when he stopped, and setting out behind him directly he saw him start. When at last he felt assured that the Count was really after his master, he got ahead of him, rejoined the Duke, whom he came up with in the neighbourhood of Pignerol, and reported to him all that he had learned. The Duke, though internally terrified by the hateful persistency of his enemy, pretended to attach but very slight importance to this communication, and smiled contemptuously on listening to his servant's report. But, for all this, he did not neglect to take his precautions; and, as peace was on the point of being signed, and a Spanish plenipotentiary was in Paris, he sent off the same valet to him at full speed, with a pressing letter. This letter was a formal denunciation of the Count de Barmont Senectaire. Cardinal de Richelieu raised no difficulty about granting an order to arrest the Count, and police agents of his Eminence, commanded by François Bouillot, left Paris in pursuit of the unhappy officer. The latter, completely ignorant of what was going on, had continued his journey, and even gained ground on the Duke, who, persuaded that henceforth he would have nothing to fear from his enemy, as the latter would be arrested before he could come up with him, now travelled by easy stages. The Duke's calculations were false, however. He had not reflected that the Cardinal's guards, not knowing where to find the man whom they had orders to arrest, and obliged to feel their way, would be compelled to almost double their journey: and this really occurred. Moreover, as, with the exception of Bouillot, not one of them was personally acquainted with the Count, and he, as we now know, desired nothing so much as the Count's escape, he passed through the midst of them unsuspected, which occasioned them a great loss of time, by compelling them to turn back. We have already narrated how, after the stormy explanation which took place between father-in-law and son-in-law, the latter was arrested, taken by Bouillot to the Isle St. Marguerite, and delivered over to Major de l'Oursière. And now that we have fully explained the respective positions of each of our characters, we will resume our narrative at the point where we left it. CHAPTER VIII. THE PRISONER. We have mentioned that after proof of identity, and perusal of the order of arrest, Major de l'Oursière, governor of the fortress of St. Marguerite, had the Count conducted to the room which was to serve as his prison, until the day when it might please the Cardinal to restore him to liberty. This room, very spacious and lofty, of an octagonal shape, and with whitewashed walls, fifteen feet thick, was only lighted by two narrow loopholes, covered with an under and outer iron trelliswork, which completely prevented any looking out. A large chimney, with a wide mantelpiece, occupied one corner of the room: facing was a bed, composed of a thin palliasse and a narrow mattress laid on a deal bedstead, formerly painted yellow, though time had completely removed the colour. A rickety table, a stool, a chair, a night commode, and an iron candlestick, completed the furniture, which was more than modest. This room was situated on the highest floor of the tower, the platform of which, where a sentry tramped day and night, served as the ceiling. The soldier drew the bolts that garnished the iron-lined door of this room. The Count entered, with a firm step. After taking a glance at these cold, sad walls, destined henceforward to serve him as a habitation, he sat down on a chair, crossed his arms on his breast, hung his head, and began to reflect. The soldier, or rather gaoler, who had gone out, returned an hour later, and found him in the same position. He brought with him sheets, blankets, and wood to light a fire. Behind him two soldiers carried the portmanteau containing the prisoner's clothes and linen, which they placed in a corner, and retired. The gaoler at once set to work making the bed. Then he swept the room and lit the fire. When these different duties were accomplished, he approached the prisoner. "My lord?" he said to him politely. "What do you want with me, my friend?" the Count answered, raising his head and looking at him gently. "The governor of the castle desires the honour of an interview with you, as he says he has an important communication to make." "I am at the governor's orders," the Count said laconically. The gaoler bowed and went out. "What can the man want with me?" the Count muttered, so soon as he was alone. He had not long to wait, for the door opened again and the governor made his appearance. The prisoner rose to receive him, bowed, and then silently waited for him to speak. The Major made the gaoler a sign to withdraw, and then, after a fresh bow, he said with cold politeness,-- "My lord Count, gentlemen should respect each other. Although the orders I have received on your account from the Cardinal are very strict, I still desire to shew you any attention that is not incompatible with my duty. I have, therefore, come to you frankly in order to have an understanding on the subject." The Count guessed to what this speech tended, but did not let it be seen, and answered,-- "Mr. Governor, I am grateful, as I ought to be, for the steps you have been kind enough to take; may I ask you, therefore, to have the goodness to explain to me the nature of your orders, and what the favours are by which you can alleviate their severity. But, in the first place, as I am at home here," he added, with a melancholy smile; "do me the honour of seating yourself." The Major bowed, but remained standing. "It is unnecessary, my lord," he remarked, "as what I have to say to you is very short; in the first place, you will observe that I have had the delicacy to send you the trunk containing your effects unexamined as I had the right to do." "I allow the fact, Major, and feel obliged; to you for it." The Major bowed. "As you are an officer, my lord," he said, "you are aware that his Eminence the Cardinal, although he is a great man, is not very liberal to officers whose infirmity or wounds compel them to quit the service." "That is true." "The governors of fortresses more especially, although nominated by the King, being obliged to pay a long price to their predecessors for the office, are reduced to a perfect state of want, if they have not saved up some money." "I was not aware of that circumstance, sir, and fancied that the governorship of a fortress was a reward." "So it is, my lord, but we have to pay for the command of fortresses like this, which are employed as state prisons." "Ah! Very good." "You understand, it is supposed that the governor makes a profit by the prisoners intrusted to his keeping." "Of course, sir; are there at present many unhappy men who have incurred the displeasure of His Eminence detained in this castle?" "Alas, sir, you are the only one, and that is exactly the reason why I desire to have an amicable settlement with you." "For my part, be assured, sir, that I desire nothing more earnestly." "I am convinced of that, and hence will discuss the question frankly." "Do so, sir, do so; I am listening to you with the most serious attention." "I have orders, sir, not to let you communicate with anyone but your gaoler, to give you neither books, papers, pens, or ink, and never to allow you to quit this room; it appears there is great fear of your escape from here, and his Eminence is anxious to keep you." "I am extremely obliged to his Eminence, but luckily for me," the Count answered with a smile, "instead of having to deal with a gaoler, I am dependent on a true soldier, who, while strictly obeying his orders, considers it unnecessary to torture a prisoner already so unhappy as to have fallen into disgrace with the King and the Cardinal minister." "You have judged me correctly, my lord, though the orders are so strict. I command alone in this castle, where I have no control to fear. Hence I hope to have it in my power to relax the rigor I am commanded to show you." "Whatever may be your intention in that respect, allow me, sir, in my turn to speak like a frank and loyal sailor. As prisoner of your King, doubtless for a very long time, money is perfectly useless to me; though not rich, I enjoy a certain ease, on which I congratulate myself, as this ease permits me to requite any polite attentions you may show me; service for service, sir, I will give you every year 10,000 livres, paid in advance; and, on your side, will you allow me to procure, at my own charges of course, all the objects susceptible of alleviating my captivity." The Major felt as if about to faint. The old officer of fortune had never in his whole life possessed so large a sum. The Count continued without seeming to notice the effect his words produced on the governor. "Well then, that is quite understood. To the sum the King pays you for my board, we will add 200 livres a month, or 2,400 per annum, for papers, pens, ink, &c., suppose we say the round sum of 3,000 livres, does that suit you?" "Ah, Sir, it is too much, a great deal too much." "No, Sir, since I assist an honourable man, who will owe me thanks for it." "Ah! I shall be eternally grateful, sir; but, do not be angry with my frankness, you will oblige me to offer up vows to keep you as long as possible." "Who knows, sir, whether my departure will not some day be more advantageous than my stay here?" he said with a meaning smile; "be good enough to lend me your tablets." The Major offered them to him. The Count tore out a leaf, with a few pencilled words on it, and handed it back to him. "Here," he said, "is a draught for 16,000 livres, which you can receive at sight from Messrs. Dubois, Loustal, and Co., of Toulon, whenever you have leisure." The governor clutched the paper with a start of joy. "But it seems to me that this draft is 800 livres in excess of the sum agreed on between us?" he said. "That is correct, sir, but the 800 livres are for the purchase of different articles, of which here is the list, and which I must ask you to procure for me." "You shall have them tomorrow, my lord," and after bowing very low the governor walked backwards out of the room. "Come," the Count muttered gaily, when the heavy door had closed on the Major; "I was not deceived, I judged that man correctly, and his is really perfect, but his most thoroughly developed vice is decidedly avarice; I can make something of it, I fancy, when I like, but I must not go ahead too fast, but act with the greatest prudence." Certain of not being disturbed, at least for some hours, the Count opened the trunk brought in by the two soldiers, in order to convince himself whether the governor had told him the truth, and the contents were really intact. The trunk had not been examined. In the foresight of a probable arrest, the Count when he started in pursuit of the Duc de Peñaflor, had purchased several objects which he found again with the most lively satisfaction. In addition to a certain quantity of clothes and linen, the trunk contained a very fine and strong silk cord, nearly one hundred fathoms in length, two pairs of pistols, a dagger, a sword, powder and bullets, objects which the governor would have confiscated without any scruple, had he seen them, and which the Count had laid in at all risks, trusting to chance. There were also several iron and steel tools, and concealed in a double bottom, a very heavy purse containing the sum of 25,000 livres in gold, in addition to another almost equally large amount in Spanish quadruples sewn into a wide leathern belt. So soon as the Count was certain that the Major had told him the truth, he carefully locked the trunk again, hung the key round his neck by a steel chain, and sat down quietly in the chimney corner. His meditations were interrupted by the gaoler. This time the man not only brought him bed furniture, far superior to what he had given him before, but he had added a carpet, a mirror, and even toilet utensils. A cloth was spread on a table, upon which he placed in a moment a very appetising dinner. "The Major begs me to apologize, sir," he said; "tomorrow he will send you what you asked for. In the meanwhile he has forwarded you some books." "Very good, my friend," the Count replied. "What is your name?" "La Grenade, sir." "Has the Governor selected you to wait on me?" "Yes, sir." "My friend, you appear to me a good fellow, here are three louis for you. I will give you the same amount every month if I am satisfied with your attention." "Had you given me nothing, sir," La Grenade replied, as he took the money, "it would not have prevented me from serving you with all the zeal of which I am capable, and if I receive these three louis, it is only because a poor devil like me has no right to refuse a present from so generous a gentleman as you. But, I repeat, sir, I am quite at your service, and you can employ me in whatever way you please." "Goodness!" the Count said, in surprise; "and yet I do not know you, as far as I am aware, La Grenade--whence, may I ask, comes this great devotion to my person?" "I am most willing to tell you, sir, if it interests you. I am a friend of M. François Bouillot, to whom I am under certain obligations; he ordered me to serve and obey you in everything." "That good Bouillot," said the Count. "Very well, my friend, I shall not be ungrateful. I do not want you anymore at present." The gaoler put some logs on the fire, lit the lamp, and withdrew. "Well," said the Count, with a laugh, "Heaven forgive me! I believe that, though a prisoner in appearance, I am as much master of this castle as the governor, and that I can leave it without opposition on any day I like. What would the Cardinal think if he knew how his orders were executed?" He sat down to table, unfolded his napkin, and began dining with a good appetite. Things went on thus, in the way agreed on between the Governor and his prisoner. The arrival of Count de Barmont at the fortress had been a windfall for the Major, who, since he had received from the royal munificence the command of this castle as retiring pension, had not once before had an opportunity to derive any profit from the position that had been given him. Hence he promised to make a gold mine of his solitary prisoner; for the Isle of St. Marguerite, as we have already remarked, had not yet acquired the reputation which it merited at a later date as a State prison. The Count's room was furnished as well as it could be; everything he demanded in the shape of books was procured him, though he had to pay dearly for them, and he was even allowed to walk on the towers. The Count was happy--so far, at least, as the circumstances in which he found himself allowed him to be so: no one would have supposed, on seeing him work so assiduously at mathematics and navigation, for he applied himself most seriously to the completion of his maritime education, that this man nourished in his heart a thought of implacable vengeance, and that this thought was ever present to him. At the first blush, the resolution formed by the Count to allow himself to be incarcerated, while it was easy for him to remain free, may seem strange: but the Count was one of those men of granite whose thoughts are immutable, and who, when they have once formed a resolution, after calculating with the utmost coolness all the chances for and against, follow the road they have laid down for themselves, ever marching in a straight line without caring for the obstacles that arise at each step on their path and surmounting them, because they decided from the first that they would do so--characters that grow and are perfected in the struggle, and sooner or later reach the goal they have designed. The Count understood that any resistance to the Cardinal would result in his own utter ruin; and there was no lack of proofs to support this reasoning: by escaping from the guards who were taking him to prison, he would remain at liberty, it is true, but he would be exiled, obliged to quit France, and wander about in foreign parts alone, isolated, without resources, ever on the watch, forced to hide himself, and reduced to the impossibility of asking, that is to say, of obtaining the necessary information he required to avenge himself on the man who, by robbing him of the wife he loved, had at the same blow not only destroyed his career and fortune, but also eternally ruined his happiness. He was young, and could wait; vengeance is eaten cold, say the southerners--and the Count came from Languedoc. Besides, as he had said to Bouillot, in a moment of expansiveness, he wished to suffer, in order to kill within him every human feeling that still existed, and to find himself one day armed _cap-à-pie_ to face his enemy. Cardinal Richelieu and Louis XIII. were both seriously ill. Their death would not fail to produce a change of reign in two, three, or four years at the most, and that catastrophe would arrive, one of whose consequences it is to produce a reaction, and consequently, to open to all the prisoners of the defunct Cardinal the dungeons to which he had condemned them. The Count was twenty-five years of age: hence time was his own, and the more so because, when restored to liberty, he would enter on all his rights, and as an enemy of Richelieu, be favourably regarded at Court, and, through the temporary credit he would enjoy, be in a condition to regain all the advantage he had lost as concerned his foe. Only energetically endowed men, who are sure of themselves, are capable of making such calculations, and obstinately pursuing a line of conduct so opposed to all logical combinations; but these men who thus resolutely enlist chance on their side, and reckon on it as a partner, always succeed in what they purpose doing, unless death suddenly cuts them short. Through the intercession of La Grenade, and the tacit connivance of the Governor, who closed his eyes with a charming inattention, the Count was not only cognizant with all that was going on outside, but also received letters from his friends, which he answered. One day, after reading a letter which la Grenade had given him when bringing in breakfast, a letter from the Duc de Bellegarde, which had reached him through Michael, for the worthy sailor had refused to leave his Commandant, and had turned fisherman at Antibes, with Bowline as his assistant, the Count sent a message to the Governor, requesting a few minutes' conversation with him. The Major knew that every visit he paid his prisoner was a profit to him, hence he hastened to his room. "Have you heard the news, sir?" the Count said at once on seeing him. "What news, my lord?" the Major asked, in amazement, for he knew nothing. In fact, placed as he was at the extreme frontier of the kingdom, news, no matter its importance, only reached him, so to speak, by accident. "The Cardinal Minister is dead, sir. I have just learned it from a sure hand." "Oh!" said the Major, clasping his hands, for this death might cause him the loss of his place. "And," the Count added, coldly, "His Majesty King Louis XIII. is at death's door." "Great heaven, what a misfortune!" exclaimed the Governor. "This misfortune may be fortunate for you, sir," the Count resumed. "Fortunate! When I am menaced with the loss of my command! Alas, my lord, what will become of me if I am turned out of here?" "That might easily, happen," said the Count. "You have, sir, always been a great friend of the defunct Cardinal, and known as such." "That is, unhappily, too true," the Major muttered, quite out of countenance, and recognizing the truth of this affirmation. "There is, I think, an advantageous mode of arranging matters." "What is it, my lord? Speak, I implore you!" "It is this: listen to me carefully--what I am going to say is very serious for you." "I am listening, my lord." "Here is a letter all ready written for the Duc de Bellegarde. You will start at once for Paris, passing through Toulon, where you will cash this draft for 2000 livres, to cover your expenses. The Duke is sincerely attached to me. For my sake he will receive you kindly: you will come to an understanding with him, and obey him in everything he orders." "Yes, yes, my lord." "And if within a month from this time at the latest--" "From this time at the latest--" the Governor repeated, panting with impatience. "You bring me here my full and entire--pardon, signed by H. M. Louis XIII.--" "What?" the Governor exclaimed, with a start of surprise. "I will at once pay you," the Count continued, coldly, "the sum of 50,000 livres, to indemnify you for the loss my liberation must entail on you." "Fifty thousand livres!" the Major exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with greed. "Fifty thousand! yes, sir," the Count replied. "And, besides, I pledge myself, if you wish it, to get you confirmed in your command. Is this matter settled?" "But, my lord, how am I to manage at Paris?" "Follow the instructions the Duc de Bellegarde will give you." "What you ask of me is very difficult." "Not so difficult as you pretend to believe, sir; however, if this mission does not suit you--" "I did not say that, sir." "In a word, you can take it or leave it." "I take it, my lord--I take it. Great heaven!--fifty thousand livres!" "And you start?" "Tomorrow." "No, tonight." "Very good--tonight." "All right! Here are the letter and the draft. Oh! by the way, try to put yourself in communication with a fisherman at Antibes of the name of Michael." "I know him," the Major said, with a smile. "Indeed!" said the Count. "There would be no harm, either, in your trying to find the exempt who brought me here, one François Bouillot." "I know where to find him," the Major replied, with the same meaning smile. "Very good! in that case, my dear Governor, I have nothing more to add, or any recommendations to make to you, beyond wishing you a pleasant journey." "It will be so, my lord, I pledge you my word." "It is true that it is a round sum--fifty thousand livres!" "I shall not forget the amount." After saying this the Major took leave of his prisoner, and retired, with a profusion of bows. "I believe that I am going to be free this time!" the Count exclaimed, so soon as he was alone--"Ah! my lord Duke, we are now about to fight with equal weapons!" CHAPTER IX. MAJOR DE L'OURSIÈRE. Had it been possible for Count de Barmont to notice through the thick oak planks, lined with iron, that formed the door of his prison, the face of the governor on leaving him, he would not have chanted victory so loudly, or believed himself so near his deliverance. In fact, so soon as the Major had no longer cause to dread his prisoner's clear-sighted glance, his features immediately assumed an expression of cynical malice impossible to render; his half-closed eyes flashed with a gloomy fire beneath his grey eyelids and an ironical smile raised the corners of his pale thin lips. It was twilight; night was beginning to fall, and confound all objects, by burying them in a dark pall, which momentarily grew denser. The Major returned to his apartments, put a heavy cloak on his shoulders, pulled his hat over his eyes, and sent for his lieutenant. The latter presented himself at once. He was a man of about forty, with a delicate and intelligent face, whose features were imprinted with gentleness and even kindness. "I am starting this moment, sir," the governor said to him, "for Antibes, whither important business summons me; my absence will probably be prolonged for several days. While I remain absent from the castle, I invest you with the command; watch over its safety, and guard against any attempted escape on the part of the prisoner, though I doubt his making it. Such attempts, though they do not succeed, injure the reputation of a fortress, and the character of its governor." "I will watch with the greatest care, sir!" "I am certain of that, sir. Is there any fishing boat in the roads? I should prefer not using the boat belonging to the fortress, as the garrison is so weak." "The fishing boat you generally use, sir, and which is commanded by one Michael, I think, was alongside the quay hardly an hour ago, but he has probably started to fish outside the reef, as he usually does." "Hum," said the Major, "even were he still there, I should scruple at making the poor fellow lose so much time in putting me ashore. These fishermen are not rich, and every minute you take from them makes them lose a part of the trifling profit of a long and hard night's work." The officer bowed, apparently sharing his chief's philanthropic ideas, although his face evidenced the surprise which the expression of such sentiments by a man like the Major caused him. "Are there no other boats here?" the Major asked, affecting an air of indifference. "I beg your pardon, sir, a smuggling lugger is just about putting out to sea." "Very good; warn the master that I wish him to take me on board. Be good enough to make haste, sir, for I am in a hurry." The officer withdrew to carry out the order given him; the Major took some papers, doubtless important, from an iron casket, hid them under his coat, wrapped himself in his cloak, and left the castle, under the salute of the sentries who presented arms as he passed. "Well?" he asked the officer who came to meet him. "I have spoken to the master, sir, he awaits you," the other replied. "I thank you, sir; now, return to the castle, and watch carefully over its safety till my return." The officer took leave, and the Major proceeded toward a sort of small quay, where the lugger's yawl was waiting for him. So soon as the governor was aboard, the smuggler let go the hawser, and set sail. When the light vessel was well under weigh, the master respectfully walked up to the Major. "Where are we to steer?" he asked, as he doffed his woollen nightcap. "Ah, ah! is it you, Master Nicaud?" the governor said; for, accustomed to have dealings with the smugglers, he knew most of them by their names. "Myself, at your service, if I can do anything, Mr. Governor," the master answered politely. "Tell me," said the Major, "would you like to earn ten louis?" The sailor burst into a hearty laugh. "You are joking with me, of course, Mr. Governor," he said. "Not at all," the Major went on, "and the proof is, here they are," he added, as he drew from his pocket a handful of gold, which he carelessly tossed in his hand; "I am therefore awaiting your answer." "Hang it, Mr. Governor, you are well aware that ten louis forms a very fine lump of money for a poor fellow like me; I am most willing to earn the canaries, what must I do for them?" "Well, a very simple thing! take me to St. Honorat, where I feel inclined for a stroll." "At this time of night?" the master remarked in surprise. The Major bit his lips on perceiving that he had made a foolish remark. "I am very fond of the picturesque, and wish to enjoy the effect of the convent ruins in the moonlight." "That is an idea like any other," the skipper answered; "and as you pay me, Mr. Governor, I can have no objection." "That is true. Then you will take me to Saint Honorat, land me in your boat, and stand off and on while waiting for me. Is that agreed?" "Perfectly." "Ah! I have a decided taste for solitude, and hence I must insist on none of your men landing on the island while I am there." "The whole crew shall remain on board, I promise you." "All right, I trust to you, here is the money." "Thanks," said the skipper, pocketing it; then he said to the steerer, "down with the helm," and added, "Hilloh, my lads, brace the sheets to larboard." The vessel quickly came up to the wind, and leaped over the waves in the direction of Saint Honorat, whose black outlines stood out on the horizon. It is but a short passage between Saint Marguerite and Saint Honorat, especially for such a clipper as the smuggling lugger. The vessel was soon off the island. The master lay to, and ordered a boat to be let down. "Mr. Governor," he said respectfully, doffing his cap, and stopping the governor, who was walking up and down in the stern; "we are all ready, and the boat waits for you." "Already! All the better," the latter answered. At the moment when he was going to get into the boat, the skipper arrested him. "Have you pistols?" he asked him. "Pistols?" he said as he turned round, "What for? is not this island deserted?" "Entirely." "Hence I can run no risk." "Not the slightest; hence that is not the reason why I asked you the question." "What is it then?" "Hang it, it is as black as in the fiend's oven; there is no moon, you cannot distinguish an object ten yards from you. How shall I know when you want to come on board again, unless you warn me by a signal?" "That is true; what had I better do?" "Here is a pistol, it is not loaded, but there is powder in the pan, and you can squib it." "Thanks," said the Major, taking the pistol, and thrusting it through his girdle. He got into the boat, which was dancing on the waves, and sat down in the stern sheets; four vigorous sailors bending over the oars made her fly through the water. "A pleasant trip," the skipper shouted. It appeared to the Major as if this wish had been uttered with a very marked ironical tone by Master Nicaud, but he attached no further importance to it, and turned his eyes toward land, which was gradually looming larger. Ere long the boat's bows grated on the sand; they had arrived. The Major went ashore, and after ordering the sailors to return aboard, he drew his cloak over his face, went off with long steps, and soon disappeared in the darkness. However, instead of obeying the injunction given them, three of the sailors landed in their turn, and followed the Major at a distance, while careful to keep themselves out of sight. The fourth, who remained to keep the boat, hid the latter behind a point, secured it to a projecting rock, and leaping ashore, fusil in hand, he remained on the watch with his eyes fixed on the interior of the island. The Major, in the meanwhile, continued to advance hurriedly in the direction of the ruins, whose imposing outline was already beginning to present itself to his eyes, borrowing from the surrounding gloom a still more imposing aspect. The Major, convinced that his orders had been punctually carried out, for he had no motive to distrust Master Nicaud, whom he had ever and under all circumstances found willing and faithful, walked on without turning his head, or even taking precautions, which he considered unnecessary, as he was far from suspecting that several men were following his footsteps, and watching his movements. It was easy to see from the deliberate manner in which he walked, and the facility with which he evaded obstacles and found his way in the darkness, that this was not the first time the Major had come to this spot, though it appeared so solitary and deserted. After entering the ruins, M. de l'Oursière passed through a cloister, encumbered with shapeless fragments, and forcing his way between stones and brambles, he entered the chapel, a magnificent specimen of the purest Roman style, whose crumbling roof had fallen in under the incessant efforts of time, and only the choir and apse still remained intact amid broken columns and desecrated altars. The Major passed through the choir, and reached the apse, where he halted. After carefully examining for a moment the surrounding objects, as if he expected to find someone or something he did not perceive, he at length resolved to clap his hands thrice. At the same moment a man rose scarce two paces from him. This sudden apparition, though he fully expected it, made the Major start, and he fell back a step, laying his hand on his sword. "Ah, ah, my master," the stranger said, in a mocking voice, "pray do you take me for a spectre, that I cause you such terror?" The man was wrapped up in a thick cloak, whose folds concealed his shape, while a broad leafed plumed hat entirely covered his face and rendered him completely unrecognizable. Only the end of his cloak raised by the scabbard of a long rapier, proved that whoever the man might be, he had not come unarmed to this gloomy rendezvous. "I am at your orders, sir," the Major said, raising his hand to his hat, but without removing it. "And ready to serve me, no doubt," the stranger resumed. "That depends," the Major remarked roughly, "times are no longer the same." "Ah, ah," the stranger continued still sarcastically, "what news is there? I shall be delighted to learn it of you." "You know it as well as I do, sir." "No matter, tell me all the same what the great news is, that thus produces modifications in our relations which have hitherto been so amicable?" "It is useless to jeer thus, sir; I have served you, you have paid me, and we are quits." "Perhaps so, but go on. I presume you wish to propose a new bargain to me?" "I have nothing to propose; I have merely come because you expressed a desire to see me, that is all." "And your prisoner, are you still satisfied with him?" "More than ever. He is a charming gentleman, who does not at all deserve the melancholy fate thrust on him; I really feel an interest in him." "Confound it, that comes expensive, I did not take that interest into account, and I was wrong, I see." "What do you mean, sir?" the Major protested with an indignant air. "Nothing but what I say to you, my dear sir. Hang it, you amuse me with your scruples, after taking money from all parties during the last eighteen months; the Cardinal is dead and the King is on the point of following him, that is what you wished to tell me, is it not? A new reign is preparing, and it is probable that, if only through a spirit of contradiction, the new government will upset everything done by the one that preceded it, and that its first care will be to open the prison doors; you also wished to tell me that Count de Barmont, who possesses warm friends at court, who will not fail to employ their influence on his behalf, cannot fail to be set at liberty ere long. Confusion, I knew all that as well and even better than you, but what matter?" "How, what matter?" "Certainly, if Count de Barmont has devoted friends, he has implacable enemies; bear that in mind." "And the result will be?" "That in four days at the latest, you will receive an order signed by Louis XIII. himself." "To what effect?" "Oh! Good heaven, no great thing, except that Count de Barmont will be immediately transferred from St. Marguerite to the Bastille; and once there," he added in a hollow voice, which made the Major shudder involuntarily, "a man is eternally erased from the number of the living or only leaves it a corpse or a maniac. Do you comprehend me now?" "Yes, I understand you, sir; but who guarantees that the Count will not have escaped before the four days to which you refer?" "Oh! With a governor like yourself, Major, such an eventuality seems to me highly improbable." "Well, well," the Major observed, "very extraordinary tales are told about the escape of prisoners." "That is true; but another thing reassures me against this escape." "And what is that, sir?" "Merely that the Count himself declared that he would never consent to escape, and was not at all anxious about liberty." "Well, sir, that is the very thing that deceives you; it seems that he has now changed his opinion, and is eagerly soliciting through his friends to obtain his liberty." "Ah! Have we come to that point?" the stranger said, fixing on the Major a glance which flashed through the gloom. The governor bowed. There was a silence, during which no other sound was audible, save that of the heavy flight of the nocturnal birds in the ruins. "A truce to further chattering," the stranger resumed in a fierce voice; "how much do you ask to prevent the prisoner escaping until the king's order reaches you?" "Two hundred thousand livres," the Major answered roughly. "Was I not right in telling you that it would be expensive?" the stranger said with a grin. "Dear or not, that is my price, and I shall not bate it." "Very good, you shall have it." "When?" "Tomorrow." "That will be too late." "What?" the stranger asked haughtily. "I said it would be too late," the Major repeated imperturbably. "In that case, when must you have it?" "At once." "Do you fancy I carry 200,000 livres about me?" "I do not say that, but I can accompany you where you are going, and on reaching Antibes, we will say, you can pay me the amount." "That is a good plan." "Is it not?" "Yes, only there is an obstacle to its success." "I do not see one." "But I do." "What is it, sir?" "That, if I give you a meeting here, and come disguised and alone, I have probably an object." "Of course! You wish to remain incog." "You are full of penetration, my dear sir; and yet we can come to an understanding." "I do not see how, unless you consent to what I ask." "You are a judge of diamonds, since we have hitherto only bargained in them." "That is true, I am a tolerable judge of them." "Here is one that is worth 100,000 crowns, take it." And he offered a small case of black shagreen. The Major eagerly seized it. "But," he objected, "how can I be certain that you are not deceiving me?" "An affecting confession," the stranger observed laughingly. "Business is business, I risk my soul in serving you." "As for your soul, my dear sir, reassure yourself; in that quarter you have nothing to risk. But I will give you the satisfaction you desire." And taking a dark lanthorn from under his cloak, he let the light play on the diamond. The Major only required one glance to assure himself of the value of the rich reward offered him. "Are you satisfied?" the stranger asked, as he placed the lanthorn again under his cloak. "Here is the proof," the Major answered, as he concealed the box, and handed him a bundle of papers. "What is this?" the stranger inquired. "Papers of great importance for you, in the sense that they will tell you who the Count's friends are, and the means they can employ to restore him to liberty." "Bravo!" the stranger exclaimed, as he eagerly took the bundle of papers; "I no longer regret having paid so heavy a price for your assistance. Now we have discussed every point, I think?" "I think so too." "In that case, farewell! When I want you, I will let you know." "Are you going already?" "What the deuce would you have me do longer in this owl's nest? It is time for each of us to rejoin the persons waiting for us." And after giving the Major a slight wave of the hand, he turned away and disappeared behind the ruins of the high altar. At the same moment the stranger was suddenly seized by several men, so that not only was he unable to offer a useless resistance, but found himself bound and gagged before he had recovered from the surprise this attack had caused him. His silent aggressors then left him rolling on the ground with convulsive bounds of impotent rage, and disappeared in the darkness without paying any further attention to him. The Major, after a momentary hesitation, also resolved to leave the place, and slowly proceeded in the direction of the shore. On arriving within a certain distance, in obedience to skipper Nicaud's hint, he cocked his pistol and flashed the powder in the pan; then he continued to advance slowly. The boat had doubtless made haste to meet him, for at the same moment as the Major reached the shore, its bows ran into the sand. The governor stepped silently into it; twenty minutes after he found himself on board the lugger, where master Nicaud received him respectfully cap in hand. The boat was hauled up to the davits, sail was set on the lugger, and she stood out to sea before a fresh breeze. CHAPTER X. THE SEAGULL LUGGER. A lugger is a three mast vessel, with narrow lines aft and bulging bows; it has a foremast, mainmast, and a driver greatly inclined over the stern; its bowsprit is short; it carries large sails and at times topsails. From this description it is easy to see that luggers have the same rig, on a larger scale, as chasse-marées. Although the draft on water of these vessels is rather great aft, as they are generally quick and good sea boats, they are largely employed for smuggling purposes, in spite of the inconvenience of the large sails which have to be shifted with each tack. The Seagull was a vessel of ninety tons, neatly fitted up, and carrying four small iron guns of eight to the pound, which caused her to bear a greater resemblance with a corsair than a peaceful coaster. Still, in spite of a rather numerous crew, and her rakish appearance, during about a year since this vessel began frequenting the coast of Provence and the Lerins islands, not a word of harm had been said against her. Skipper Nicaud passed for an honest worthy man, although a little rough and quarrelsome,--faults, by the way, peculiar to nearly all sailors, and which in no way diminished the excellent reputation which the master of the Seagull enjoyed. So soon as Major de l'Oursière had regained the lugger's deck, and the vessel had stood off, after taking a parting glance at St. Honorat, whose outline was gradually disappearing in the mist, he walked aft, seized the manrope and went down into the cabin. But on entering the cabin, which he supposed to be unoccupied, as the skipper was on deck, the Major with difficulty restrained an exclamation of surprise. There was a man in the cabin, seated at a table, and contently imbibing rum and water, while smoking an enormous pipe, and forming an aureole around him of bluish smoke. In this man the Major recognised Michael the Basque, the fisherman. After a moment's hesitation, the Major walked in, although the presence of this individual aboard the lugger was rather singular. Still there was nothing in the thing that should terrify the Major, who had no reason to suppose that Michael was hostile to him, or that he had anything to apprehend from him. At the noise made by the Major on entering the cabin, the sailor half turned to him, though without removing the pipe from his lips. After taking a pull at the glass he held in his right hand, he said in a bantering tone,-- "Why, if I am not mistaken, it is our estimable governor of St. Marguerite; delighted to see you, I am sure, Major." "Why," the Major replied, in the same key, "it's that worthy fellow, Michael. By what chance do I find you here, when I had a right to suppose you engaged fishing, at this moment, Lord knows where?" "Ah!" said Michael, with a laugh; "There's as good fishing here as anywhere. Won't you take a seat, Major, or are you afraid of compromising your dignity by sitting down by the side of a poor fellow like me?" "You do not think that," the Major answered, as he seated himself. "Don't you smoke, eh?" Michael asked him. "No; that is a sailor's amusement." "It is so, Major. But I suppose you drink?" The Major held out a glass, which the sailor liberally filled. "Here's your health, Major. If I expected to meet anyone, it wasn't you, I assure you." "I thought so." "Indeed I didn't." "Well, to tell you the truth, I did not expect to meet you, either." "I am aware of that. You have come from St. Honorat." "Hang it all! You cannot be ignorant of that fact, since I find you here." "It was on your account, then, that we lost two hours in tacking between the islands, at the risk of running on to a reef, instead of attending to our business?" "What do you mean by business? Are you a smuggler at present?" "I am everything," Michael replied, laconically, emptying his glass. "But what the deuce are you doing here?" asked the Major. "What are you?" the sailor said, answering one question by another. "I--I?" the Major began, in embarrassment. "You hesitate!" Michael continued, banteringly. "Well, I will tell you, if you like." "You, Michael?" "Why not? You went to St. Honorat to admire the beauties of nature," and he burst into a hearty laugh. "Is it not so?" "Yes. I have always passionately admired the picturesque. But that reminds me. I have forgotten to tell skipper Nicaud where I wish him to land me." And he made a movement, as if to rise. "It is unnecessary," the sailor said, obliging him to sit down again. "How? Unnecessary! On the contrary, I must do it, without further delay." "Still you have time, Major," the sailor said, peremptorily; "besides, I must speak with you first." "You speak with me?" the Major exclaimed, in stupefaction. "So it is, Major," the other replied, sarcastically. "I have very important matters to tell you. In your devil of a castle that is impossible, because you have there a number of soldiers and gaolers, who, at your slightest frown, interrupt the person addressing you, and throw him without ceremony into some hole, where they unscrupulously leave him to rot. That is discouraging, on my honour. But here it is far more agreeable, as I am not afraid that you will have me locked up --at least, not for the present. Hence, as the opportunity offers, I wish to take advantage of it to empty my budget, and tell you what I have on my heart." The Major felt internally anxious, without yet knowing positively what he had to fear, so extraordinary to him seemed this way of speaking on the part of a sailor, who had hitherto always displayed a servile politeness toward him. Still, he did not allow anything of this to be seen, but leaned carelessly over the table. "Very good, let us talk, since you feel so great an inclination for it, my good Michael; for I have time, as I am in no hurry." The sailor made his chair turn half round on its hind legs, and finding himself by this movement right facing M. de l'Oursière, he examined him cunningly, for an instant, then drained the contents of his glass; and, after banging the empty glass on the table, he said,-- "It is really a charming passion of yours, Major, to go thus at night to admire the ruins of the convent of St. Honorat in the darkness. It is, really, a charming passion, and a very profitable one, from what I have been able to learn." "What do you mean?" the Major asked, turning pale. "I mean what I say, nothing else! Do you believe in hazard, Major?" "Why--" "No more, I fancy, in that which makes me meet you here, than in the chance that makes you find on a desert island diamonds worth three hundred thousand livres; because the one thing is as impossible as the other?" This time the Major did not attempt to reply, for he felt he was caught out. Michael continued in the same sneering and bantering tone-- "It is certainly ingenious to act as you do. A man soon grows rich by taking with both hands, but like all trades that are too good, this one is rather risky." "You insult me, scoundrel!" the Major stammered. "Take care what you say. If I call--" "Come, come," the sailor interrupted, with a coarse laugh; "I do not intend to notice the insult you cast in my teeth, for I have something else to do. As for calling out, just try it, and you will see what will happen." "That--that is treachery!" "Hang it! Are we not all more or less traitors? You are one--I am one; that is allowed: hence, believe me, it is useless to dwell any longer on this subject, and we had better revert to our business." "Speak," the Major muttered in a gloomy voice. "But, stay. I wish to give you a proof of frankness, and show you once for all how wrong you would be in keeping up, I will not say the least hope, but the slightest illusion as to what is going on here." Then, tapping the table smartly with the heel of his glass, he shouted,-- "Come here, Nicaud, I want you." A heavy step resounded on the cabin stairs, and almost immediately Skipper Nicaud's cunning face was framed by the doorway. "What do you want, Michael?" he asked, without seeming even to notice the Major's presence. "Only a trifle, my lad," the sailor replied, pointing to the officer, who had turned pale, through the emotion he felt. "Only a simple question for the personal satisfaction of this gentleman." "Speak." "Who is the present commander of the Seagull lugger, in whose cabin we are now seated?" "Why, you, of course." "Then everyone aboard, yourself included, must obey me?" "Certainly; and without the slightest observation." "Very good. Then supposing, Nicaud, I were to order you to take the Major here present, fasten a couple of round shot to his feet, and throw him overboard, what would you do, my lad?" "What would I do?" "Yes." "Obey." "Without any observation?" Skipper Nicaud shrugged his shoulders. "Shall I do it?" he asked, stretching out his huge fist towards the Major, who shuddered. "Not yet," Michael answered. "Go back on deck, but do not go far, as I shall probably want you soon." "Very good," said the master, and disappeared. "Are you now edified, Major?" Michael asked, turning carelessly to the horrified governor; "And are you not beginning to understand that I, poor chap as I am, compared with you, have you, temporarily, at any rate, completely in my power?" "I allow it," the Major stammered, in a faint and choking voice. "In that case, I believe we shall come to an understanding." "Come to the facts, sir, without further circumlocution." "Good!" Michael exclaimed, coarsely; "That's how I like to see you. In the first place, hand me the diamond which your accomplice gave you in the ruins." "Then you mean robbery. I had hoped better things of you," the Major answered, disdainfully. "Call it what you like, Major," the sailor said imperturbably; "the name does not alter the thing--give me the diamond." "No," the Major answered coldly, "the diamond is my fortune, and you shall only have it with my life." "That condition, illogical though it is, will not check me, I assure you, for I will kill you, if necessary, and then take the diamond," and he cocked a pistol. There was a silence. "Well, then, it is really this diamond you want?" "That and something else," said Michael. "I do not understand you." The sailor rose, placed the pistol to his chest, and said frowningly-- "I will make you understand me." The Major felt he was lost, and that this man would kill him. "Stop!" he said. "Have you decided?" "Yes," he answered, in a voice choked with rage, and drawing the box from his bosom, he muttered, "Curse you, take it!" Michael returned the pistol to his belt, opened the box, and attentively examined the diamond. "It is the one," he said, as he closed the box again, and stowed it away. The unlucky officer followed all these movements with a lack-lustre eye. Michael resumed his seat, poured himself out a glass of rum, swallowed it at a draught, and then bending forward as he filled his pipe, said-- "Now, let us talk." "What, talk?" asked the Major; "Have we not finished yet?" "Not yet--what a hurry you are in. At present we have said nothing." "What more do you want of me?" "That is meant for a reproach; but I allow for your ill temper, and owe you no grudge for it. It is a sad thing for a man who has been poor all his life to see himself robbed in a moment of a fortune which he had only just secured. Well, then, listen to me, Major," he said, assuming a consolatory air, and putting his elbows on the table, "it is easy for you to regain the fortune you have lost, and it only depends on yourself." The Major opened his eyes widely, not knowing whether to take what the sailor said to him seriously; but as he risked nothing by permitting an explanation, he prepared to give him the most earnest attention. The other continued-- "No matter how I learned the fact--I know for certain, and the affair of the diamond is an undeniable proof of it--that, while on one hand, you feigned to feel the greatest interest for Count de Barmont, from whom you have drawn large sums, though I don't say it in reproach, by means of this feigned pity; on the other, you betray him without shame to his enemies, whom you make pay for it heavily. I merely mention this as a fact, and it is unnecessary to discuss it," Michael said, checking the Major, who was about to speak. "Now, I have made up my mind that, against wind and tide, and in spite of all the intrigues of his enemies to prevent it, the Count shall be free, and free through me. This is my plan: listen attentively to this, Mr. Governor, for the affair concerns you' more nearly than you seem to suppose. The Count has learnt the death of Cardinal de Richelieu, and I sent him the news in a letter from the Duc de Bellegarde. You see that I know everything, or nearly so: he at once requested to see you, and you granted his wish. What took place at your interview? Speak, and before all, be frank: in my turn, I will listen to you." "Of what use is it to repeat our conversation?" the Major asked, ironically. "For my private satisfaction," Michael answered, "and your special interest: do not be in too great a hurry to rejoice, Major, for you are not out of my hands yet. Believe me, you had better yield with a good grace, for your interest demands it." "My interest?" he repeated, in amazement. "Go on, Major; when the time arrives, be assured, I shall give you the explanation you desire." The old officer reflected for a moment: at last he decided to speak, resolved, if the opportunity offered itself hereafter, to make the sailor pay dearly for all his agony and humiliation. "The Count," he said, "engaged me to go to Paris, and negotiate with the Duc de Bellegarde, in order to bring him back his order of release, which the duke is certain to obtain from the king." "That is good. And when do you intend to start for Paris?" "I have started." "Ah! Ah!" said Michael, with a laugh. "It appears that you have stopped on the road, but that has nothing to do with the affair. Is that all?" "Nearly so." "Hum! then there is something else?" "Less than nothing." "No matter--out with it, for I am very curious. Did not the Count promise you something?" "Yes." "How much?" "Fifty thousand livres," the Major said, with repugnance. "Ah, ah, that is a tidy sum! And you were setting about earning it in a strange fashion; but I do not wish to refer to that any more. Do you wish to recover your diamond, and at the same time gain the fifty thousand livres promised by the Count? Speak, it depends on yourself." "You are jesting with me, and not speaking seriously." "Never, on the contrary, have I been more serious. On the Count's arrival at the castle you command, you were only a poor scrub of an officer of fortune, who, during his whole life, had been struggling against odds, and perched like an owl on an old wall, you were exposed on your isle to die as you had lived; that is to say, without a rap. During the last fifteen or eighteen months, things have completely changed with you. With what you have extorted from the Count, and what his enemies have given you, you have succeeded in getting together a very decent sum. Admitting that you were to receive the Count's fifty thousand livres, and I were to give you back the diamond, it would produce you a perfectly independent fortune, enabling you to retire when you pleased, and end your days in joy and abundance. Is not that your opinion?" "Certainly, but I shall not touch the 50,000 livres, and the diamond you have taken from me." "That is true, but," he added, "it is only dependent on yourself, Major, to have it again in your possession." "What must I do for that?" "That is what I was waiting for, Major; you consent then, to enter into an arrangement?" "I must; have I my free will at this moment?" "A man always has it when he likes, Major, you know that as well as I do; the only thing is, that as you are a man endowed with a strong dose of intelligence, and understand, that when a person has made a fortune by means more or less honourable, he must keep it at all hazards, you are beginning to lend a more attentive ear to the propositions which you guess I am preparing to make you, for you are at length convinced that it is to your interest to come to an understanding with me." "Suppose what you like, I do not care; but tell me your propositions, so that I may know whether my honour allows me to accept them or forces me to refuse them." Michael began laughing unceremoniously at this outburst, by which the Major sought to mask his capitulation. "Instead of going to Paris," he said, "you will simply return to Sainte Marguerite. You will go to the Count, tell him he is free, and then return with him on board the lugger, which will wait for you. When the Count and yourself are on board, the lugger will stand out to sea. Then I will restore you your diamond and pay you the amount agreed on; and as probably you will not care to resume the command of your castle after such a frolic, I will convey you, and your wealth wherever you like, in order to enjoy it without fear of being disturbed." "But," the Major observed, "what shall I tell the Count to persuade him that he is free by the King's orders?" "That does not concern me, it is your affair; but hang it all, my dear Major, you are unjust to yourself in raising any doubts as to the power of your imagination. Now what do you think of my proposition, and do you accept it?" "What security have I that you are not deceiving me, and that when I have fulfilled the conditions of the bargain you impose on me, you keep yours as strictly?" "The word of a honest man, sir, a word, which though that of a plain sailor, is worth that of a gentleman." "I believe you, sir," the Major answered, lowering his eyes before Michael's flashing glance. "Then, that is settled?" "Yes, it is." "All right. Hallo! Nicaud!" Michael shouted. The skipper arrived with a speed that proved he had not been far from the two speakers. "Here I am, Michael, what do you want?" "Where are we at this moment?" the sailor asked. "About five leagues to windward of Sainte Marguerite." "Very good! Keep on the same course till daybreak; at sunrise we will stand for the island, and anchor off it." "Very good, I understand." "Ah! Here is Mr. Governor, who I think, has great want of a little rest; can't you put him up somewhere where he will be able to sleep for two or three hours?" "Nothing easier, as I shall not turn in tonight, nor you, I suppose, my cabin is at the Major's service, if he will do me the honour of accepting it." The old officer was really worn out, not only by the fatigue of a long watch, but also by the emotions he had suffered from during the night. Certain that he had now no apprehensions about his safety, he heartily accepted the skipper's offer, and withdrew into the cabin, the door of which the other politely opened for him. The two sailors went up on deck again. "This time," said Michael, "I believe that we have manoeuvred cleverly, and that our plan will succeed." "I am beginning to be of your opinion; but I say, wasn't that old cormorant of a governor tough?" "Not very," Michael replied with a laugh, "besides, he had no choice; he was obliged to give in, whether he liked it or not." As had been arranged, the lugger stood off and on from the island during the whole night, at a distance of from four to five leagues from the coast. At sunrise, they steered directly for St. Marguerite. The breeze had lulled nearer shore, so that it occupied some time ere the light vessel reached the species of port serving as a landing place in front of the castle. The lugger drew too much water for it to be possible to run alongside the quay; hence it lay to a short distance off; and Nicaud had a boat lowered, while Michael went down into the cabin to warn the Major. The latter was awake; refreshed and rested by sleep, he was no longer the same man, he now regarded his position in its true light, and understood that the means offered him to escape from the disagreeable position in which he was placed by his double treachery, was more advantageous than otherwise for him. It was almost with a smile that he wished Michael good day, and he made no difficulty about accepting the hand the sailor offered to him. "Well," he asked him, "whereabouts are we, Michael?" "We have arrived, Major." "Already? Are you not afraid it is too early to go ashore?" "Not at all; it is nine o'clock." "So late? Hang it, it seems that I have slept soundly; in truth, I feel quite jolly this morning." "All the better, Major, that is a good sign; I suppose you remember our arrangements?" "Perfectly." "And you will play fairly with us?" "In my turn I pledge my honour to it, and I will keep it, whatever may happen." "Come, I am glad to hear you talk like that; I am beginning to alter my opinion about you." "Stuff," the Major remarked laughingly, "you do not know me yet." "You are aware that the boat is ready, it is only waiting for you to go ashore." "If that is the case, I will follow you, Michael; I am now as eager as you are to finish the affair." The Major went on deck and got into the boat, which was at once pushed off, and set out for the landing place. Michael's heart beat ready to burst, while he followed with an anxious eye, the light yawl which was rapidly leaving the lugger, and was already close in shore. CHAPTER XI. FRANCE, FAREWELL! The Major had scarce landed at Sainte Marguerite, ere everything were in commotion in the fort. On leaving the isle on the previous evening, the governor had stated that he was going on a journey, and would be absent a week, perhaps two. The Lieutenant, intrusted with the command of the fort during his absence, eagerly hastened to meet him, curious to learn the motive for such a speedy return. The Major at first replied evasively, that news he had received on landing on the mainland, had necessitated the immediate interruption of his journey; and, while conversing thus, he entered the fort and proceeded to his apartments, followed by the Lieutenant whom he had invited to accompany him. "Sir," he said to him so soon as they were alone, "you will immediately choose from the garrison ten resolute men; and proceed with them on board the fishing vessel I noticed at anchor when I entered the fort. The missive I entrust to you is most important, and if you carry it out thoroughly, may have important results for you; it must be managed with the most profound secrecy, however, for it is a secret of state." The Lieutenant bowed gratefully, evidently flattered at the confidence his chief placed in him. The Major continued. "You will land on the coast a little below Antibes, and keep the boat, which you will use for your return; you will manage so as not to enter the town till nightfall, without attracting any attention, you will lodge your men as best you can without arousing suspicions, but so as to have them under hand at any moment. Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, you will present yourself to the town commandant, hand him a letter I shall give you, and place yourself at his disposal. Have you understood me thoroughly, sir?" "Perfectly, Mr. Governor." "Before all, I recommend you the most utter discretion; remember that your fortune probably depends on the success of the mission." "I will obey you, Major, and I hope that you will only have compliments to pay me on my return." "I trust so too, sir, but make haste, for you must be gone in half an hour. During your preparations I will write the letter; it will be ready when you come to take leave again." The lieutenant, after bowing respectfully, retired with a joyous heart, not having the slightest suspicion of the treachery meditated by his chief, and went off at full speed to make all the preparations for his departure. The Major had under his orders a garrison of fifty men, commanded by three officers, a captain and two lieutenants. This captain, the next in rank to him, would doubtless have greatly impeded the success of the bold stroke he meditated, owing to the pretext he would have been obliged to invent, in order to account for the want of a release in writing for the Count. By sending him away, the Major had only to deal with two subalterns, ranking too low in the military scale to venture to make observations, or hesitate to accomplish his orders, the more so, because during the ten or twelve years M. de l'Oursière had commanded Fort Sainte Marguerite, nothing in his conduct had led to the slightest painful suspicions about his honour. Forced by circumstances to betray his duty and quit his native land forever, which he knew he should never see again after this audacious scheme, the Major wished to leave nothing to chance, but turn his lost position to the greatest possible advantage. He hoped that the measures he had taken would protect him from any danger, when his treachery was eventually discovered. But, through a very laudable feeling of justice, especially on the part of such a man and under such circumstances, the Major desired alone to bear the burden of his infamous conduct and not to attract suspicion of complicity on his poor officers, whom duty compelled to obey him, in what they considered a portion of their military service. Hence he wrote to the governor of Antibes a very circumstantial letter, in which he narrated, without the slightest omission, the treason he meditated, and which would be carried out at the time when the governor read the strange missive; he explained the motives that obliged him to act as he was doing, while taking on himself all the responsibility of such a deed, and acquitting his officers and soldiers, not only of all co-operation, but of all cognisance, even indirect, of his project. These duties scrupulously accomplished--for it was impossible for the governor to be deceived as to the frankness of his confession, or to doubt them for a moment--the Major folded the letter, sealed it carefully, and laid it on the table while awaiting the return of his second in command. Now, as his vessels were burnt, M. de l'Oursière could no longer retreat; he must push on and succeed; the certainty of certain ruin if his scheme were foiled, removed his last doubts, and restored him all the necessary calmness to act with the coolness demanded by the strange circumstances in which he found himself placed. The Captain entered. "Well?" the Major asked him. "I am ready to start, Mr. Governor; my soldiers are already on board the fishing boat, and we shall have left the island in ten minutes." "Here is the letter you have to deliver into the hands of the Governor of Antibes, sir; remember my instructions." "I will obey them in every point." "In that case, Heaven guard you! and good-bye," the Major said, as he rose. The officer saluted, and left the room. The Major watched through the open window of his room; he saw him leave the fort, go down to the shore, and on board the fishing vessel; the sail was hoisted, and ere long the boat started, slightly heeling over under the power of the breeze. "Ough!" said the Major, closing the window, with a sigh of relief--"that's one, now for the other." But, before aught else, the old officer shut himself up in his room, burnt certain papers, pocketed others, put some clothes in a small valise, as he did not wish to take all belonging to him, through fear of arousing suspicions, and carefully wrapping up in his cloak a small and very heavy iron casket, which, doubtless, contained his ready money, he assured himself by a glance around that everything was in order, opened the door again, and called. A soldier appeared. "Beg Mess. de Castaix and de Mircey to come here," he said, "as I wish to speak to them." They speedily arrived, greatly puzzled at this unexpected interview, for usually the Governor talked but little with his officers. "Gentlemen," he said to them, after returning their salute, "an order from the King caused me to return here in all haste. I have to take our prisoner, M. de Barmont, to Antibes, where your Captain has preceded me with a sufficient escort to prevent any attempt at escape on the part of the prisoner. I have acted thus because it is the King's good pleasure that this transference of the Count from one prison to another may have the appearance of a liberation, and I shall explain it in that sense to the prisoner, in order that he may have no suspicion of the new orders I have received. Until my return, which will be in two days at the least, you, Monsieur de Castaix, as senior officer, will assume the command of the fortress. I am pleased to believe, gentlemen, that I shall only have to praise the aptitude you will display in performing your duties during my absence." The two officers bowed: accustomed to the Cardinal's tortuous and mysterious policy, the Major's remarks did not at all surprise them, for, although His Eminence was dead, the event had not occurred so long that the King should have in any way modified his sullen mode of governing. "Be kind enough to give orders for the prisoner to be brought into my presence, while I inform him of his liberation," he added, with a mocking smile, whose strange meaning the officers did not comprehend. "You will have all the effects belonging to him placed in the boat of the smuggling lugger on board which I came back. Go, gentlemen." The officers withdrew. The Count was greatly surprised when La Grenade opened the door of his cell, and begged him to follow him, as the Governor wished to speak with the prisoner. He fancied the Major on the road to Paris, as had been arranged between them on the previous evening, and did not at all understand his presence at the fort after the solemn promise he had made. Another thing also caused him great surprise--ever since he had been a prisoner at Saint Marguerite the Governor had not once sent for him; on the contrary, he had always put himself out of the way by visiting his cell. But the thing that completely routed his ideas was La Grenade's recommendation to him, to place all his belongings in a trunk, and take the key. "Why this most unnecessary precaution?" the Count asked him. "No one ever knows what may happen, sir," the gaoler replied, cunningly; "it is as well to take precautions; and stay, if I were you I would put on my hat and take my cloak." And while speaking thus, the soldier actively helped him to pack his trunk. "There, that's done," he said, with a grin of satisfaction, when the Count had taken out the key; "here are your hat and cloak." "My hat, if you like," the young man remarked, laughingly, "but why my cloak? I run no risk of catching a pleurisy in my short walk to the Governor's presence." "Will you not take it?" "Certainly not." "Then I will; you'll see you will want it." The young gentleman shrugged his shoulders, without replying, and they left the room, the door of which the gaoler did not take the trouble to lock after him. The Major was walking up and down his room while awaiting the prisoner. La Grenade showed him in, laid the cloak on a chair, and withdrew. "Ah, ah!" said the Major, with a laugh--"I see that you suspected something." "I, Mr. Governor? What was it, if you please?" "Zounds! you appear to be dressed as if for a journey." "It is that ass of La Grenade, who, I know not for what reason, obliged me to put on my hat, and insisted on bringing my cloak here." "He was right." "How so?" "My lord, I have the honour to inform you that you are a free man." "I free!" the Count exclaimed, turning pale with joy and emotion. "The King has deigned to sign your liberation, and I received the orders on landing at Antibes." "At last!" the Count burst forth, but then immediately recovered himself. "Can you show me the order, sir?" "Excuse me, my lord, that is forbidden." "Ah! For what reason?" "It is a general precaution, sir." "In that case I will not press it: at least, you are permitted to tell me at whose request my liberty was granted me?" "I see no objection to that, sir--it was at the request of the Duc de Bellegarde." "The dear Duke!--a real friend!" the Count cried, in great emotion. The Major, with the utmost coolness, handed him a pen, and pointed to a blank space in the register. "Will you be kind enough, sir, to sign this register?" The Count hurriedly perused it, and saw that it was a species of certificate of the honourable way he had been treated during the period of his detention. He signed. "Now, sir, as I am free, for I presume I am so--" "Free as a bird, my lord." "In that case I can retire. I know not why, but during the last instant these thick, gloomy walls, seem to stifle me, and I shall not breathe at my ease till I feel myself in the open air." "I understand that, sir. I have made every preparation, and we will embark whenever you please." "_We?_" the Count asked, in surprise. "Yes, my lord, I shall accompany you." "For what reason, may I ask?" "To do you honour, sir--for no other reason." "Very good," he said, thoughtfully; "let us go, then; but I have some traps here." "They are already on board: come, sir." The Major took up his valise and casket, and left the room, followed by the Count. "Did I not tell you you would want your cloak?" La Grenade said to M. de Barmont, with a bow, as he passed--"Pleasant voyage to you, sir, and good luck." They went down to the waterside. During the walk, which was not very long, the Count's brow became more and more clouded; he fancied he could notice a certain sorrow on the faces of the officers and soldiers who were watching his departure--they whispered together, and pointed to the Count in anything but a reassuring way, and it gave him much cause for anxiety. Every now and then he took a side-glance at the Major, but he appeared calm, and had a smile on his face. They at length reached the boat, and the Major stepped aside to let the Count get into it first. As soon as they were both in, the boat was pushed off. During the whole passage from the shore to the lugger the Count and the Major remained silent. At length they came along side the little vessel, a rope was thrown to them, and they went up the side. The yawl was immediately hauled up, all sail was set, and the lugger stood out to sea. "Ah!" the Count exclaimed on perceiving Michael, "You are here, then I am saved!" "I hope so," the latter replied; "but come, my lord, we have matters to discuss." They went down into the cabin, followed by the Major. "There, now we can talk, Captain--the first thing is to settle our accounts." "Our accounts?" M. de Barmont repeated, in surprise. "Yes, let us proceed regularly. You promised this gentleman 50,000 livres?" "Yes, I did." "And you authorize me to give them to him?" "Certainly." "Good; in that case he shall have them." Then, turning to the Major--"You have scrupulously kept your promises, and we will keep ours as loyally. Here, in the first place, is your diamond, which I give you back: I will hand you over the money in a moment. I suppose you no more wish to remain in France than we do--eh?" "I do not wish it the least in the world," the Major replied, delighted at having regained possession of his diamond. "Where would you like to be landed? Will England suit you, or do you prefer Italy?" "Well, I do not exactly know." "Do you like Spain better? 'Tis all the same to me." "Why not Portugal?" "Done for Portugal. We will drop you there in passing." The Count had listened with growing surprise to this conversation, which was incomprehensible to him. "What is the meaning of all this?" he at length asked. "It means, Captain," Michael distinctly answered, "that the King has not signed the pardon--that you are a prisoner, and would probably have remained so all your life had not this gentleman, luckily for you, consented to open the door." "Sir!" the Count exclaimed, making a movement toward the Major. Michael stopped him. "Do not be in a hurry to thank him," he said--"wait till he has told you what has occurred, and in what way he found himself obliged to set you at liberty, when he would probably have preferred not to do so." "Come, come!" said the Count, stamping his foot passionately--"Explain yourself! I understand nothing of all this. I wish to know everything--everything, I tell you!" "This man will tell you it, Captain; but he is afraid at present of the consequences of his confession, and that is why he hesitates to make it." M. de Barmont smiled disdainfully. "This man is beneath my contempt," he said; "whatever he may say I will not take the slightest vengeance on him--he is pardoned beforehand, I pledge him my word as a gentleman." "Now speak, Major," said Michael; "during that time I will go on deck again with Skipper Nicaud, or, if you prefer it, Bowline, who has played his part remarkably well throughout the affair." Michael left the cabin, and the two men remained alone. The Major understood that it was better to make a clean breast of it: hence he told the Count, without any equivocation, the full details of his treachery, and in what manner Michael had compelled him to save him, when, on the contrary, he was paid to ruin him. Although the name of the Duc de Peñaflor had not once been mentioned during the Major's narration, the Count divined that it was he alone who had dealt him all the blows he had felt so severely during the last eighteen months; however great his resolution might be, this depth of hatred, this Machiavellian vengeance terrified him; but in this extremely detailed narrative one point seemed to him obscure, and that was, how Michael had discovered the final machinations of his enemies, and done so opportunely enough to be able to foil them. All the questions the Count asked on this head the Major was unable to answer, for he was ignorant. "Well," asked the sailor, suddenly entering the cabin, "are you now informed, Captain?" "Yes," the latter replied, with a certain tinge of sadness, "except on one point." "What is it, Captain?" "I should like to know in what manner you detected this cleverly contrived plot." "Very simply, Captain, and I will tell you the whole affair in a couple of words. Bowline and I, without the Major suspecting it, followed him carefully into the ruins, while cautiously avoiding being seen; in this way no part of his conversation with the stranger escaped us. When the Major handed him the papers, and the stranger retired, I jumped at his throat, and, with Bowline's help, took the papers from him--" "Where are these papers?" the Count interrupted him eagerly. "I will give them to you, Captain." "Thanks, Michael; now go on." "Well, my story's finished; I gagged him to prevent him calling out, and after tying him up like a plug of tobacco to stop him running after us, I left him there and went away." "What, you went away, Michael, leaving the man thus gagged and bound on a desert isle?" "What would you have had me do with him, Captain?" "Oh, perhaps it would have been better to kill him, than leave him exposed to such a horrible punishment." "He had been so precious tender to you, hadn't he, Captain? Stuff! Pity for such a ferocious brute would be madness on your part; besides, the fiend always protects his creatures, you may be sure, and I am certain that he has escaped." "How so?" "Hang it, he didn't swim off to Saint Honorat; his people were probably concealed somewhere: tired of not seeing him return, they will have set out to seek him, and picked him up where I put him to bed; he will probably have got off with gnawing the bit for two or three hours." "Well, that is possible, Michael, and even probable. Where are you taking us?" "Zounds, you are the commander here, Captain; we will go wherever you please." "I will tell you, but first let us land the Major, for I fancy he wishes to be free of our company as much as we do of his." At this moment Bowline's voice was heard. "Hilloh, Michael," he shouted, "we have a large vessel to windward." "Confusion!" said the sailor, "Has she hoisted her colours?" "Yes; she is a Norwegian." "That will be a good opportunity for you, Major," said the Count. "Eh, helmsman," Michael shouted, without awaiting the Major's answer, "steer down to the Norwegian." The Major considered it useless to protest. Two hours later the vessels were within speaking distance: the stranger was bound for Helsingfors, and the captain consented to take the passenger offered him. The Major was consequently transported on board, with everything belonging to him. "Now, Captain," said Michael, when the boat had returned, "where shall we steer?" "Let us go to the islands," the Count answered sadly, "henceforth we shall only find a shelter there and taking a last glance at the coast of France, whose outline was beginning to fade away in the distant horizon," he muttered, with a sigh, and concealing his face sorrowfully in his hands, "Farewell, France!" In these two words was exhaled the last human feeling that remained at the bottom of the heart of this man who had been so tried by adversity, and who, vanquished by despair, was going to ask of the new world the vengeance which the old world so obstinately refused him. CHAPTER XII. THE BEGINNING OF THE ADVENTURE. The seventeenth century was a period of transition between the middle ages, that were exhaling their last sigh, and the modern era, which the great thinkers of the eighteenth century were destined to constitute so splendidly. Under the repeated blows of the implacable Cardinal de Richelieu, that gloomy filler of the unity of the despotic power of kings, an immense reaction had been effected in ideas. It was a silent reaction, that from the outset sapped the minister's work, and he was far from suspecting its causes or power. It was more especially in the latter half of the seventeenth century that the world offered a strange spectacle. At that period, the Spaniards, who were possessors, by the right of force, of the greater part of America, where they had multiplied colonies, were masters of the sea which the celebrated "broom of Holland" had not yet swept. The English navy was only beginning to be formed, and, in spite of the continuous efforts of Richelieu, the French navy was not in existence. Suddenly several adventurers sprang up, no one knew whence, who, alone, castaways of civilization, men of all classes, from the highest to the most humble, belonging to all nations, but chiefly to the French, perched themselves like vultures on an imperceptible islet in the Atlantic, and undertook to contend against the Spanish power, after declaring a merciless war on their private authority. Attacking the Spanish fleet with unheard-of audacity, and, like a gadfly fastened to a lion's flank, holding in check the Spanish Colossus, they compelled it to treat with them on equal terms, with no other help but their courage and their energetic will. In a few years their incredible exploits and audacious coups de main inspired the Spaniards with such terror, and acquired for themselves such a great and merited reputation, that the disinherited of fortune, the seekers of adventures, flocked from all parts of the world to the island that served them as a refuge, and their number was so enormously augmented, that they almost succeeded in forming themselves into a nationality by the sole force of their will, and their boldness. Let us say in a few words, who these men were, and what was the origin of their strange fortune. For this purpose we must return to the Spaniards. The latter, after their immense discoveries in the New World, had obtained from Pope Alexander VI. a bull which conceded to them the exclusive possession of the two Americas. Supported by this bull, and considering themselves the sole owners of the New World, the Spaniards tried to keep all other nations away from it, and began to treat as corsairs all the vessels they came across between the two tropics. Their maritime power, and the important part they played at that time on the American continent did not leave the governments the power of protesting, as they would have desired, against this odious tyranny. Then it happened that English and French outfitters, excited by the thirst of gain, and paying no heed to the Spanish pretensions, equipped vessels which they dispatched to the so-coveted rich regions, to cut off the Spanish transports, plunder the American coast, and fire the town. Treated as pirates, these bold sailors frankly accepted the position offered them, committed awful excesses wherever they landed, carried off rich spoil, and despising the law of nations, and not caring whether the Spaniards were at war or not with the countries to which they belonged, they attacked them wherever they met them. The Spaniards, entirely engaged with rich possessions in Mexico, Peru, and generally on the Continent, which were mines of inexhaustible wealth for them, had committed the fault of neglecting the Antilles, which stretch from the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of Maracaibo, and only established colonies in the four large islands of that archipelago. Hidden in bays behind the windings of the coast, the adventurers dashed suddenly at the Spanish vessels, carried them by boarding, and then returned ashore to share the plunder. The Spaniards, in spite of the great number of their vessels, and the active watch they kept up, could no longer traverse the Caribbean Sea, which the adventurers had selected as the scene of their exploits, without running the risk of obstinate engagements with men, whom the smallness and lightness of their vessels rendered almost intangible. This wandering life possessed such charms for the adventurers, who had assumed the characteristic name of filibusters or freebooters, that for a long time the idea did not occur to them of forming a permanent settlement among the islands, which they employed as a temporary retreat. Things were in this state when, in 1625, a cadet of Normandy, of the name of d'Esnambuc, to whom the law of entail left no hope of fortune, except what he could acquire by his industry or courage, fitted out at Dieppe a brigantine of about seventy tons, on board which he placed four guns and forty resolute men, and set out to chase the Spaniards and try to enrich himself by some good prize. On arriving at the Caymans, small islands situated between Cuba and Jamaica, he suddenly came across the track of a Spanish vessel bearing thirty-five guns and a crew of three hundred and fifty men; it was a critical situation for the corsair. D'Esnambuc, without giving the Spaniards time to look about them, steered down and attacked them. The action lasted for three hours with extraordinary obstinacy; the Dieppois defended themselves so well, that the Spaniards despairing of conquest and having lost one-half their crew, were the first to decline fighting, and shamefully fled from the small vessel. Still, the latter had suffered severely, and could be hardly kept above water, ten men had been killed, and the rest of the crew, being covered with wounds, were not worth much more. As the isle of Saint Kitts was no great distance off, d'Esnambuc reached it with much difficulty, and took refuge there to careen his vessel, and cure his wounded. Then calculating, that, for the success of his future expeditions, he required a sure retreat, he resolved to establish himself on this island. St. Kitts, which the Caribs called Liamuiga, is situated in 17 to 18 degrees N. latitude and 65 W. longitude. It is 23 leagues W.N.W. of Antigua, and about 3 leagues to the N.W. of Guadeloupe, and is one of the Caribbean Islands. The general aspect of this island is remarkably beautiful, it is commanded by Mount Misery, an extinct volcano, three thousand five hundred feet high, which occupies the whole northwest part, and gradually descends in lower ranges, till it dies away on the South in the plains of the Basse terre. The barrenness of the mountains forms a striking contrast with the fertility of the plains. The valleys display a really extraordinary wealth of vegetation, while the mountains only offer to the eye a confused chaos of broken rocks, whose interstices are filled up with a clayey matter that checks all vegetation. Water is rare, and of a bad quality, for the few streams that descend from Mount Misery are strongly impregnated with saline particles, to which strangers find a difficulty in growing accustomed. But a precious thing for the filibusters, Saint Kitts possesses two magnificent ports, well sheltered and easy of defence, and its coasts are serrated with deep bays, where, in case of danger, their light vessels would easily find a shelter. D'Esnambuc, on landing, found several refugee Frenchmen who lived on good terms with the Caribs, and who not only received him with open arms, but joined him and selected him as their leader. By a singular chance, on the same day that the Dieppois landed at St. Kitts, English freebooters commanded by Captain Warner, who had also suffered in an engagement with the Spaniards, took refuge at another point in it. The corsairs of the two nations who could not be separated by any idea of conquest, agriculture, or commerce, and who pursued the same object, fighting the Spaniards, and establishing a refuge against the common enemy, easily came to an understanding; then, after dividing the island, they settled down side by side, and lived for a long time on excellent terms, which nothing disturbed. On one occasion they even combined their arms against the Caribs, who, alarmed by the progress of their new settlement, attempted to expel them. The filibusters made a horrible carnage among the Indians, and forced them to implore for mercy. A few months after, Warner and d'Esnambuc put out to sea again; the latter proceeded to Paris, the former to London, each for the purpose of soliciting the protection of his government for the rising colony. As usual, these men, who at the beginning had only sought a temporary refuge, now felt a desire to see the development of a settlement founded by themselves, and which in a short time had assumed a real importance. Cardinal de Richelieu, ever disposed to favour projects tending to augment the foreign power of France, received the filibuster with the greatest distinction, entered into his views, and formed a company, called "The Company of the Islands," in order to promote the interests of the colony. The capital was 45,000 livres, of which Richelieu subscribed for his part 10,000. D'Esnambuc was invested with the supreme command. Among the claims stipulated in his commission there is one which we must quote, owing to its strangeness, for it imposed on white men in America a temporary slavery harsher even than that of the Negro. This is the clause, whose sinister consequences we shall see developed during the course of this story. "No labourer intended for the colony will be allowed to embark, unless he engages to remain for three years in the service of the company, which will have the right to employ him on any task it thinks proper, without granting him the right to complain or break the contract entered into by him." These labourers were called Engagés or "thirty-six monthers," a polite way of getting rid of the word slave. Captain Warner, who had been more highly favoured, returned with a large body of colonists. Still the good understanding was kept up for some time between the two nations; but the English took advantage of the weakness of the French, who could not oppose their usurpations, to encroach on their rights, and formed a fresh settlement at Nevis, the next island to St. Kitts. Still d'Esnambuc did not despair of the fate of the colony. He proceeded again to France, and solicited of the Cardinal help in men and money, to repulse the undertakings of his troublesome neighbours. Richelieu granted his request. By his orders, Rear Admiral de Cussac arrived at St. Kitts, with six heavily armed ships; he surprised ten English vessels in the roads, captured three, sank three others, and put the rest to flight. The English made no further attempts to leave their boundaries, and peace was re-established. M. de Cussac, after supplying the colony with rum and provisions, set sail, and went to found a settlement on St. Eustache, an island four leagues N. W. of St. Kitts. The Spaniards, however, who, since the appearance of the filibusters in American waters, had suffered so greatly from their depredations, saw them with great alarm settling permanently on the West India islands. They understood of what importance it was to them not to allow fixed settlements in these regions, unless they wished to see their colonies destroyed and their commerce ruined. They consequently resolved to act vigorously against those fellows whom they regarded as pirates, and to utterly destroy their lurking places, which had already acquired formidable proportions. In consequence Admiral don Fernando de Toledo, whom the court of Madrid had placed at the head of a powerful fleet, sent in 1630 to Brazil to fight the Dutch, received orders to destroy in passing, the viper's nest formed by the filibusters at St. Kitts. The sudden apparition of this immense force off the island filled the inhabitants with stupor. The united resources of the English and French adventurers and their desperate courage were not sufficient to avert the danger that menaced them, and repulse so formidable an attack. After a desperate fight, in which a great number of filibusters, especially Frenchmen, were killed, the others got into their light canoes and fled to the adjacent isles of St. Bartholomew, Antigua, St. Martin, and Montserrat, or to any place in short where they hoped to find a temporary refuge. The English, we are unfortunately compelled to state, shamefully fled at the beginning of the action, and eventually asked leave to capitulate. One half of them were sent to England on board Spanish ships, while the rest engaged to evacuate the island as soon as possible,--a promise which was forgotten immediately after the departure of the Spanish fleet. This expedition was the only one that Spain seriously attempted against the filibusters. The French soon left the islands where they had sought refuge, and returned to St. Kitts, where they re-established themselves, though not without a quarrel with the English, who had taken advantage of the opportunity to seize their land, but whom they forced again beyond their old borders. It is a singular fact, which proves that the filibusters were not bandits and nameless men, as attempts have been made to brand them, that the inhabitants of St. Kitts were remarkable beyond all the other colonists for the gentleness and urbanity of their manners; the traditions of politeness left by the first Frenchmen who settled there, have been maintained even to the present day; in the eighteenth century it was called the Gentle Island, and there is a proverb in the Antilles to the effect, that "the nobility were at St. Kitts, the citizens at Guadeloupe, the soldiers at Martinique, and the peasants at Grenada." Things remained for a long time in the state we have just described; the filibusters, growing bolder and bolder through the Spanish cowardice, enlarged the scene of their exploits, and retaining a bitter memory of the sack of their island, felt a double hatred for the Spaniards, who had branded them with the name of Ladrones (robbers). They no longer displayed any moderation, and seated in the light canoes that composed their entire fleet, they watched for the rich transports from Mexico, dashed boldly aboard them, carried them, and returned to St. Kitts loaded with plunder. The colony prospered, the land was well cultivated, and the plantations were carefully made. For these men, the majority of whom had no hope left of ever returning to their native land, had performed their work with the feverish ardor of people who are creating for themselves a new nationality and preparing a last asylum, so that only a few years after the destruction of the colony by the Spaniards, St. Kitts had again become a flourishing colony, thanks in the first instance to its fertility and the energy and intelligence of its inhabitants, but above all to the incessant toil of the engagés of the company. We have now to explain what these poor fellows were and the fate they met with at the hands of the colonists. We have already stated that the company sent to the islands, men whom they had engaged for three years. They accepted anybody, workmen belonging to all trades, even surgeons who, persuading themselves that they were destined to carry on their own profession in the colonies, allowed themselves to be seduced by the fair promises which the company did not hesitate to lavish. But once their consent was given, that is to say, signed, the company regarded them as men belonging to it body and soul; and when they reached the colonies, agents _sold_ then for three years to the planters, at the rate of thirty or forty crowns a head, and did so in the broad daylight and in the governor's presence. They thus became real slaves, subject to the adventurers of the colony, and condemned to the rudest tasks. Hence, the poor wretches, so unworthily abused, beaten terribly and worn out by a fatigue under a deadly climate, generally succumbed ere they had attained the third year, which was to set them at liberty. This was carried so far that the masters at last attempted to prolong the stipulated slavery beyond three years. Toward the end of 1632, the colony of St. Kitts incurred great dangers, for the engagés whose time was up and whom their masters refused liberty, took up arms, organized a resistance, and prepared to attack the colonists with that energy of desperation which no force can resist. M. d'Esnambuc only succeeded in making them lay down their arms and arrest bloodshed by conceding their just demands. At a later date, when the sad condition in which the company's agents placed the engagés, became known in France, it became almost impossible for the latter to find volunteers; hence they were obliged to go about the roads and highways to enlist vagabonds whom they intoxicated and induced to sign, while in that condition, an engagement which it was impossible to break. We will dwell the more earnestly on this point, because during the course of our narrative, we shall have frequently to revert to the engagés. We will only add one word about the wretches whom England sent to the colonies under the same conditions. If the fate of the French engagés was frightful, that of the English, history proves to us, was horrible. They were treated with the most atrocious barbarity. They formed an engagement for seven years, and then, at the end of that time, when the moment to regain their liberty had at length arrived, they were intoxicated, and advantage was taken of their condition to make them sign a second engagement for the same period. Cromwell, after the sack of Drogheda, sold more than 30,000 Irish for Jamaica and Barbados. Nearly two thousand of these wretched succeeded in escaping on board a vessel, which, in their ignorance of navigation, they allowed to drift and the current cast it ashore at Saint Domingo. The poor fellows, not knowing where they were, and being without food or resources, all died of hunger. Their piled-up bones, bleached by time, remained for several years on Cape Tiburón, at a spot which was called Irish Bay on account of the terrible catastrophe, and still bears the name. The reader will pardon us for having entered into such lengthened details about the establishment of the filibusters of St. Kitts; but as it was on this little island that the terrible association of adventurers, whose history we have undertaken to tell, had its birth, it is necessary to make the reader fully acquainted with these facts, so that we might not be obliged to return to them hereafter. Now, we will resume our narrative to which the preceding chapters serve, so to speak, as a prologue, and leaping at one bound across the space that separates Sainte Marguerite from the Caribbean islands, we will proceed to St. Kitts a few months after the escape, for we dare not say the liberation, of Count Ludovic de Barmont Senectaire. CHAPTER XIII. THE COUNCIL OF THE FILIBUSTERS. Several years elapsed without producing any notable changes in the colony. The adventurers still continued, with the same obstinacy, their expeditions against the Spaniards; but as their expeditions were isolated, and had no sort of organization, the losses experienced by the Spaniards, though very great, were much less considerable than might be anticipated. About this time, a lugger manned by forty resolute men, and armed with four iron guns, anchored off St. Kitts, proudly displaying the French flag at its stern. This vessel brought to the colony a fresh contingent of brave adventurers. Immediately after their arrival, they landed, formed the acquaintance of the inhabitants, and testified a desire to settle on the island. The chief, to whom his comrades gave the name of Montbarts, and for whom they appeared to have an unbounded devotion, informed the colonists, that like them, he professed a profound hatred for the Spaniards, and that he was followed by two ships of that nation, which he had captured, and had given the prize masters orders to steer for St. Kitts. These good men were received with shouts of joy by the inhabitants, and Montbarts had a narrow escape from being carried in triumph. As he had announced, three or four days later two Spanish vessels anchored at St. Kitts. They bore at their stern the Castilian flag reversed, in sign of humiliation, while above it proudly fluttered the French ensign. There was one horrible circumstance, however, which chilled even the bravest with horror. These vessels bore at their bowsprit, and at their cross-jack, as well as at the main and foreyard, groups of corpses. By Montbarts order, the crews of the two vessels had been hung, without showing mercy even to a boy. The chief of the adventurers generously gave the cargo of the two ships to the colonists, only asking for sufficient land in return, on which to build a house. This request was at once granted; the newcomers then disarmed their lugger, came ashore, and began their installation. Montbarts was a young man of about seven or eight-and-twenty, with manly and marked features, and a fixed and piercing eye. The expression of his face was essentially sad, mocking, and cruel: a dead pallor; spread over his face, added, were it possible, a strangeness to his whole person. Tall and powerfully built, though supple and graceful, his gestures were elegant and noble, while his speech was soft, and the terms he employed were carefully chosen. He exercised a singular fascination over those who approached him, or whom accident brought into relation with him. They felt at once repulsed and attracted by this singular man, who seemed the only one of his species on the earth, and who, without appearing to be anxious for it, imposed his will upon all, gained obedience by a sign or a frown, and who only seemed to live when he was in the thick of a fight, when fires crossed above his head, forming him an aureole of flame, when corpses were piled up around him, when blood flowed beneath his feet, and when bullets whistled in his ears, and when he rushed drunk with powder and carnage upon the deck of a Spanish ship. Such was what was said of him by his comrades, and by those who had been struck by his singular countenance, and wished to know him: but beyond this moral and physical portrait of the man, it was impossible to obtain the slightest information as to his past life. Not one of the sailors who came with him knew the slightest episode of it, or, as was probable, refused to discover anything. Hence, when the colonists perceived that all their questions would remain unanswered, they gave up the useless task of asking them. They accepted Montbarts for what it pleased him to be, the more so, as his, former life not only did not concern them, but also interested them very slightly. The adventurer only remained ashore for the period strictly necessary to establish his household comfortably; then, one day, without warning anybody, he went on board his lugger with the crew he had brought with him, only leaving five or six men at St. Kitts to manage his plantation, and set sail. A month after, he returned, having in tow a richly laden Spanish vessel, with the crew hanging to the yards as before. Montbarts went on thus for a whole year, never remaining more than two or three days ashore, then going off, and returning with a prize with its entire crew suspended from the yards. Matters attained such a pitch, the audacity of the daring corsair was crowned with such success, that the rumour of it reached France. Then, the Dieppe adventurers, comprehending all the profit they might derive from this interloping war, fitted out vessels, and went to join the colonists of St. Kitts, for the purpose of organising a hunt of the Spaniards, and carrying it out on a grand scale. Filibusterism was about to enter on its second phase, and become a regular association. Montbarts had built his hatto, or principal residence, at the spot where the English afterwards formed Sandy-point battery. It was an excellently chosen position, militarily speaking, where, in case of attack, it was easy not only to act on the defensive, but also to repulse the enemy with serious loss. This hatto, built of trunks of trees, and covered with palm leaves, stood nearly at the extremity of a cape, whence the greater part of the island and the sea for a considerable distance on the right and left could be commanded. This cape, which was nearly precipitous, and one hundred and fifty feet high seawards, could only be reached by a narrow, rough path, intersected at regular distances by strong palisades, and wide, deep ditches, which had to be crossed on planks, that were easy to remove. Two four-pounder guns, placed in position at the head of the path guarded the approaches. This hatto was divided into four rather large rooms, furnished with a luxury and comfort rather singular in an out-of-the-way island like St. Kitts, but which was fully justified by the usual occupation of the owner, who merely required to take any furniture that suited him out of his prizes. A long pole, serving as a flagstaff, planted in front of the door of the hatto, displayed in the breeze a white ensign with a red jack in the right hand top corner. This flag was that of the corsairs, which Montbarts sometimes changed for one all black, having in its centre a death's head and crossbones, all white. This was an ill-omened flag, which, when hoisted at the peak, signified that the conquered had no hope of mercy to expect. It was a warm day towards the end of May, about eighteen months after Montbarts' arrival at St. Kitts. Several persons, stern looking and rough mannered, almost armed to the teeth, were conversing together as they followed the path that led from the plain to the platform on which Montbarts' hatto stood. It was nearly ten o'clock at night, and the sky was transparent and clear. Thousands of stars sparkled in the heavens, the moon profusely shed her white light, and the atmosphere was so pellucid, that the smallest objects were visible at a long distance. There was not a breath in the air, or a rustle among the leaves; the sea, calm as a mirror, died away with a soft and mysterious murmur on the sandy beach; the fireflies buzzed noisily, and at times dashed against the pedestrians, who contented themselves with driving them away with their hands, without, on that account, interrupting a conversation which seemed greatly to interest them. These men were five in number, and all in the prime of life. Their features were energetically marked, and their faces revealed audacity and resolution carried to the highest pitch. Their slightly curved shoulders, and the way in which they straddled their legs in walking, while swaying their arms, would have caused them to be recognised as sailors at the first glance, had not their dress sufficiently proved the fact. They were talking in English. "Stuff!" one of them was saying at the moment when we join in their conversation; "We must see. All that glistens is not gold, as they say down there. Besides, I wish for nothing better than to be mistaken, after all." "No matter," another replied; "in accordance with your laudable custom, you begin by expressing a doubt." "Not at all," the first speaker sharply interposed; "a fear, at the most." "Well," a third said; "we shall soon know what we have to expect, for here we are halfway up the path, thank Heaven!" "That demon of a Montbarts," the first went on, "has famously chosen his position. His hatto is impregnable, on my word as a man." "Yes. I do not think that the _gavachos_[1] will ever venture to attempt an escalade. But, by the way," he added suddenly, and halted; "suppose we are taking a useless walk, and Montbarts is not at home?" "I will answer for your finding him at home, Red Stocking, so set your mind at rest." "How do you know?" asked the man addressed by this singular name. "My God! Don't you see his flag hoisted at the masthead?" "That is true. I had not noticed it." "But now you see it, I suppose?" "I should be blind if I didn't." "Well," one of the filibusters said, who had hitherto maintained silence; "all this does not tell us why the meeting is to be held. Do you know anything about it, brother?" "No more than you," Red Stocking replied. "It is probably some daring project which Montbarts is meditating, and wishes us to take a part in." "But you know that he has not only summoned us, but also the principal French filibusters?" "In that case I am quite at sea," Red Stocking remarked. "However, it is of little consequence at present, as I presume we shall soon know what is wanted of us." "That is true, because we have arrived." In fact, they reached at this moment the head of the path, and found themselves on the platform exactly facing the hatto, whose door was open as if inviting them to enter. A very bright light poured through the doorway, and the sound of loud talking testified that there was a rather large gathering inside the hatto. The Englishmen continued to advance, and soon found themselves on the threshold. "Come in, brothers," Montbarts' harmonious voice was heard saying from the interior; "come in, we are waiting for you." They entered. Six or seven persons were assembled in the room, which they entered: they were the most renowned chiefs of the filibusters. Among them were Belle Tête (handsome head), the ferocious native of Dieppe, who had murdered more than three hundred of his engagés, whom he accused of dying of indolence; Pierre le Grand, the Breton, who always boarded the Spanish galleons in the disguise of a female; Alexandre Bras de fer (iron arm), a young and apparently frail and delicate man, with effeminate features, but in reality endowed with a prodigious and herculean vigour, and destined hereafter to become one of the heroes of the buccaneering trade; Roc, surnamed the Brazilian, although born at Groningen, a town in East Friesland; and lastly, two old acquaintances of ours, Bowline and Michael the Basque, who both arrived at St. Kitts at the same time as Montbarts, and whose reputation as filibusters was already great. As for the English, who had just entered the hatto, five in number; they were Red Stocking, whose name was mentioned in the preceding conversation; Morgan, a young man hardly eighteen years of age, with a haughty face and aristocratic manners; Jean David, a Dutch sailor, settled in the eastern part of the island; Bartholomew, a Portuguese, also settled in the English colony; and lastly, William Drake, who had taken an oath never to attack the Spaniards, unless they were in the proportion of fifteen to one, so great was the contempt he professed for the proud nation. It was, as we see, a select gathering of all the great filibusters of the day. "You are welcome, brothers," said Montbarts; "I am glad to see you, for I was awaiting you impatiently. Here are pipes, tobacco, and spirits; smoke and drink," he added, pointing to a table placed in the centre of the room. The filibusters sat down, lighted pipes, and filled glasses. "Brothers," Montbarts resumed a moment later, "I have requested you to come to my hatto for two reasons of great importance, and of which the second necessarily depends on the first: are you prepared to listen to me?" "Speak, Montbarts," William Drake answered in the name of all; "you, whom the gavachos have surnamed the Exterminator, a name I envy you, brother, for you can only wish the good of filibustering." "That is the very subject," Montbarts answered. "I was sure of it, brother. Speak, we will listen to you religiously." They prepared to listen attentively. All these energetic men, who recognised no laws but those themselves had made, knew not what envy was, and were ready to discuss with the most entire good faith the proposals which they foresaw Montbarts desired to make to them. The latter reflected for a moment, and then spoke in a gentle voice, whose sympathetic accent soon captivated his audience. "Brothers," he said, "I will be brief, for you are picked men, with warm hearts and firm hands, with whom a long speech is not only useless, but also ridiculous Since my arrival at St. Kitts, I have been studying filibustering, its life, manners, and aspirations, and I have recognised with sorrow that the results do not justify its efforts. What are we doing? Nothing, or almost nothing. In spite of our indomitable courage, the Spaniards laugh at us; too weak, owing to our isolation, to inflict serious losses on them, we expend our energy in vain; we shed our blood, to take from them a few wretched vessels. It is not thus that matters ought to go on; this is not the vengeance which each of us dreamed of. What is the cause of our relative weakness toward our formidable enemy? The isolation, to which I alluded just now, and which will forever paralyze our efforts." "That is true," Red Stocking muttered. "But how can we alter it?" David asked. "Alas!" William Drake added, "The remedy is unfortunately impossible." "We are adventurers merely, and not a power," said Belle Tête. Montbarts smiled--that pale, peculiar smile of his, which turned the heart cold. "You are mistaken, brothers," he said, "the remedy is found; if we like, we shall soon be a power." "Speak, speak, brother," all the adventurers exclaimed, springing up. "This is my plan, brothers," he continued; "we are here twelve, of all nations, but with one heart; the flower of filibusterism, I declare loudly; without fear of contradiction, for each of us has furnished proofs of it, and what proofs! Well, let us join and form a family; from our share of the prizes let us set aside a sum intended to form the common treasury, and while remaining at liberty to organize private expeditions, let us swear never to injure or thwart one another, to offer mutual help when needed, to labour with all our power to the ruin of Spain, and while keeping our association secret from our comrades and brothers, to combine our forces when the moment arrives to crush our implacable enemy at one blow. Such, brothers, is the first proposal I have to make to you. I await your answer." There was a momentary silence; the filibusters understood the importance of their brother's proposal, and the strength it would give them in the future. They exchanged glances, whispered together, and at length William Drake replied in the name of all-- "Brother," he said, "you have just elucidated in a few words a question which has hitherto remained in obscurity. You have perfectly defined the cause of our weakness, by finding at the same time, as you promised us, not the remedy, but the means to render an association hitherto due to accident and almost useless, really formidable and useful: but this is not all. This association, to which you allude, requires a head to direct it, and ensure the success of its efforts at the right moment. It is therefore necessary that while our association remains secret, and, as it were, not in existence at all, in every point that does not affect its object, one of us should be appointed chief; a chief, the more powerful, because we shall be devoted to him, and aid him in working for the general good." "Is this really your opinion, brothers?" Montbarts asked. "Do you accept my proposal such as I made it, and as William Drake has modified it?" "We accept it so," the filibusters replied with one voice. "Very good. Still I think that this chief, to whom you refer, should be unanimously elected by us; that his authority may be taken from him at a meeting of the assembly by a majority of voices, if he do not strictly fulfil the conditions he has accepted; that, as guardian of the treasury, he must always be ready to furnish his accounts, and that his appointment should not exceed five years, unless renewed." "All that is fair," said Red Stocking; "no one can understand the general good better than you, brother." "Hence," David remarked, "we shall be partners; no quarrel, no dissension can well be possible among us." "While ostensibly retaining our free will and most complete independence," Belle Tête reminded. "Yes," Montbarts replied. "Now, brothers," said Drake, rising, and doffing his cap, "listen to me: I, William Drake, swear on my faith and honour, the most complete devotion to the association of the Twelve, submitting myself beforehand to undergo the punishment my brothers may please to inflict on me, even death, if I were to betray the secret of the Association, and break my oath. Heaven help me!" After Drake each filibuster uttered the same oath in a firm voice, and with a solemn accent. They resumed their seats. "Brothers," said Montbarts, "what we have hitherto done is nothing; it is only the dawn of the new era which is about to open, for the glorious days of filibustering are beginning--twelve men like us, united by the same thought, must perform miracles." "We will do so, be assured, brother," Morgan said, as he carelessly picked his teeth with a gold pin. "Now, brothers, before I submit my second proposal to you, I believe we had better elect a president." "That is true," said David; "as the company is formed, let us elect the president." "One word first," said Michael the Basque, stepping into the centre of the circle. "Speak, brother." "I wish to add this: every member of the Association who falls into the hands of the gavachos shall be delivered by the other members, whatever perils they may have to incur in doing so." "We swear it!" the filibusters shouted enthusiastically. "Unless it is impossible," Morgan said. "Nothing is impossible for us," William Drake remarked, rudely. "That is true, brother. You are right, I was mistaken," Morgan replied, with a smile. "The society will be called that of The Twelve; only the death of a member will allow another to be admitted, and he must be chosen unanimously," Michael continued. "We swear it!" the filibusters exclaimed once more. "Now, brothers," said Bartholomew, "let us proceed to the election, by ballot, in order to protect the liberty of the vote." "There are pens, ink, and paper on that table, brothers," Montbarts remarked. "And here is my cap," Red Stocking said, with a laugh; "throw your votes into it." And, removing his beaver skin cap, the filibuster laid it on the ground in the middle of the room. Then the adventurers, with perfect order, rose one after the other, and in turn went to write their vote, which they deposited, after rolling up the paper, in Red Stocking's cap. Then all the adventurers returned to their seats: "Have we all voted?" David asked. "All!" the filibusters replied, in chorus. "Now, brother," Drake said to David, "since you hold the cap, proclaim the result." David questioned his comrades with a glance, and they bowed their heads in affirmation; then he took up the first roll that came to hand, opened it, and read-- "Montbarts, the Exterminator." And passed on to a second. "Montbarts, the Exterminator," he read again. It was the same with the third, fourth, and so on up to the twelfth and last--all bore the words-- "Montbarts, the Exterminator." It was a sinister challenge given to the Spanish nation, of whom this man was the most obstinate enemy. Montbarts rose, took off his hat, and bowed gracefully to his comrades. "Brothers," he said, "I thank you--the confidence you place in me shall not be disappointed." "Long live Montbarts, the Exterminator!" all the filibusters shouted, impulsively. The terrible company of The Twelve was created. Filibusterism then really became a formidable power. [Footnote 1: Term of contempt for the Spaniards.] CHAPTER XIV. THE SECOND PROPOSAL. Montbarts allowed the enthusiasm of his comrades time to calm, and then spoke again. There was no change in his appearance; nothing in his face denoted the joy of triumph or of satisfied ambition; still the vote of his companions, by nominating him Chief of the filibusters, had rendered him in a moment a man more powerful than many a prince. His face was just as impassive, his voice equally firm. "Brothers," he said, "do you remember that I had a second proposal to make to you?" "That is true," William Drake replied--"speak, brother, we are listening to you." "The second proposal is as follows: still, I must request you before answering me to reflect fully on it. Your opinion must not be lightly expressed, for, I repeat to you, and dwell on it in order that you may thoroughly understand me, this proposition is most serious and grave. In a word, it is this:--I propose to you to abandon the island of St. Kitts, and choose another place of refuge, more convenient, and, above all, safer for you." The filibusters gazed at him in amazement. "I will explain," he said, stretching out his arms as if to request silence; "listen to me carefully, brothers, for what you are going to hear interests you all. Our refuge is badly chosen, and too remote from the centre of our expeditions; the difficulties we have to surmount in returning to it, in consequence of the currents that make our ships drift, and the contrary winds that oppose their speed, make us lose precious time. Now, the Caribbean archipelago is composed, of more than thirty islands, among which it is easy for us, it seems to me, to choose the one that suits us best. This idea which I bring before you today I have been revolving in my mind for a long time. I have not limited my expeditions to the pursuit of the gavachos. I have also made a voyage of discovery, and believe that I have found the spot suited for us." "Whereabouts is it, brother?" David asked, making himself spokesman for his companions. "I mean the island which the Spaniards call Hispaniola, and you know as St. Domingo." "But, brother," Bartholomew here interposed, "that island, which, I allow, is immense, and covered with magnificent forests, is inhabited by the Spaniards; if we went there it would be really placing ourselves in the wolf's throat." "I thought as you do before I had assured myself of the reality of the fact, but now I am certain of the contrary; not alone is the island only partially occupied by the gavachos, but we shall also find allies in the parties they have despised." "Allies!" the filibusters exclaimed, in surprise. "Yes, brothers, and in this wise.--When Don Fernando de Toledo attacked St. Kitts, the French who succeeded in escaping from the massacre took refuge on the adjacent islands, as you are aware; many of them went further, and reached St. Domingo, where they found a refuge. That was bold, was it not? But, I repeat to you, the Spaniards occupy scarce one-half of it. At the period of the discovery they left some horned cattle on the island; these beasts have propagated, and now exist in herds. The immense savannahs of St. Domingo are covered with innumerable herds of wild oxen which graze on all the uninhabited part; these herds, as you are aware, are a certain resource for revictualling our ships, and, moreover, the vicinity of the Spanish colonists offers us the means to satiate our hatred upon them; besides, our companions who have been established on the island for some years past wage an incessant and obstinate war upon them." "Yes, yes," said Belle Tête, pensively; "I understand what you are saying to us, brother. You are right up to a certain point; but let us discuss the matter quietly and coolly, like serious men." "Speak," Montbarts replied; "each of us has the right to express his opinion when the common interest is concerned." "Brave though we are, and we may boast of it frankly, for, thank heaven, our courage is well known, we are not strong enough for all that--at present at least--to measure ourselves against the Spanish power on land; there is a difference between capturing a ship and facing an entire population. You allow that, I suppose, brother?" "Certainly I do." "Very good, I will go on. It is evident that the Spaniards, who up to the present have probably not noticed them, or, at any rate, owing to their small number and slight importance, have disdained the adventurers established on the desert part of the island; when they see that this establishment, which they supposed to be temporary, and due to the caprice of our brothers, is becoming permanent, and assuming the menacing proportions of a colony, they will refuse to permit it--what will happen then? This: they will collect all their forces, assail us suddenly, destroy us after a desperate resistance, and ruin at one blow, not only our new colony, but also our hopes of vengeance." These remarks of Belle Tête, which displayed close logic, produced a certain effect on the filibusters, who began exchanging meaning looks; but Montbarts did not allow the spirit of opposition time to spread, and at once went on to say-- "You would be right, brother, if, as you suppose, we were to place our principal establishment on St. Domingo; it is evident that we should be crushed by numbers, and forced to retire disgracefully; but a man would know me badly if he supposed that I, who have an implacable hatred of these infamous gavachos, could possibly conceive such a plan for a moment, if I had not previously assured myself about its success, and the profit we shall derive from it." "Come, brother," Drake said, "explain yourself clearly; we are listening to you with the most earnest attention." "To the northwest of St. Domingo, and only separated from it by a narrow channel, there is an island about eight leagues long, surrounded by rocks called the iron coast, which render any landing impossible, except at the south, where there is a fine port, whose bottom is composed of sand, and where vessels are sheltered from all winds, which, besides, are not violent in those parts; there are also a few sandy bays scattered along the coast, but they are only approachable by canoes. This island is called Tortuga or Tortoise Island, owing to its shape, which slightly resembles that animal. Here it is, brothers, I propose that we should form our principal establishment, or, if you prefer it, our headquarters. The Port of Peace, and Port Margot, situated facing Tortoise Isle, will enable us to keep up an easy communication with St. Domingo: sheltered in our island, as in an impregnable fortress, we shall brave the efforts of the whole Spanish power. But I do not wish to deceive you, and must tell you everything; the Spaniards are on their guard; they have foreseen that if buccaneering goes on, that is to say, if they do not succeed in destroying us, the excellent position of that island would not escape our notice, and that we should probably attempt to seize on it: hence they have had it occupied by twenty-five soldiers, commanded by an alférez. Do not smile, brothers; although the garrison is small, it is sufficient, owing to the manner in which it is entrenched, and the difficulties a landing offers; and then, too, it can easily obtain reinforcements from the Grande Terre in a very short time. I have often landed in disguise on Tortoise Isle. I have inspected it with the greatest care, and hence you can attach the most entire confidence to the information I am giving you." "Montbarts is right," Yoc, the Brazilian, said at this moment; "I know Tortoise Isle, and, like him, I am persuaded that island will offer us a far surer and more advantageous shelter than St. Kitts." "Now, brothers," Montbarts resumed, "reflect, and answer yes or no. If you accept my offer I will prepare to realize my plan by seizing the island; if you refuse, I will never mention it again." And, in order by his absence to give more liberty for discussion, the adventurer left the room, and proceeded to the terrace in front of the hatto, where he began walking up and down, apparently indifferent to what was going on, but in his heart very anxious as to the result of the deliberation. He had only been walking up and down for a few minutes, when a slight whistle was audible a short distance off, so gently modulated, that it needed all the sharpness of hearing with which the filibuster was endowed, to catch it. He walked rapidly in the direction where this species of signal had been heard. At the same moment, a man lying on the ground, and so thoroughly concealed by the gloom that it was impossible to perceive him unless he was known to be there, raised his head, and displayed in the white moonbeams the copper face, and delicate and intelligent features of a Carib. "Omopoua?" the filibuster said. "I am waiting!" the Indian laconically answered, as he sprang up at one bound, and stood erect before him. Omopoua, that is to say, the leaper, was a young man of twenty-five years of age at the most, of a tall and admirably proportioned stature, whose skin had the gilded shade of Florentine bronze. He was naked, with the exception of thin canvas drawers, fastening round his hips, and falling nearly to his knees. His long, black hair, parted in the centre of his head, fell on his shoulders on either side. He had no other weapons but a long knife, and a bayonet passed through a cowhide belt. "Has the man arrived?" Montbarts asked. "He has." "Has Omopoua seen him?" "Yes." "Does he fancy himself recognised?" "Only the eye of a determined foe could guess him beneath his disguise." "That is well! My brother will conduct me to him?" "I will lead the pale chief." "Good! Where shall I find Omopoua an hour after sunrise?" "Omopoua will be in his hut." "I will come there;" and, hearing several voices calling him from the interior of the hatto, he said, "I reckon on the Indian's promise." "Yes, if the chief keeps his." "I shall keep it." After exchanging a last meaning look with the filibuster, the Carib glided down the face of the cliff, and disappeared almost instantaneously. Montbarts remained for a moment motionless, plunged in deep thought; then, giving a sudden start, and passing his hand over his forehead, as if to efface any sign of emotion, he hastily re-entered the hatto. The deliberation was ended. The filibusters had returned to their seats, and Montbarts went back to his, and waited with affected indifference, till one of his comrades thought proper to speak. "Brother," David then said, "we have thoroughly discussed your proposal. My comrades authorize me to tell you that they accept it, but they merely desire to know what means you intend to employ in carrying out your plan, and insuring its success?" "Brothers, I thank you," Montbarts replied, "for giving me your consent. As to the means I intend to employ in seizing Tortoise Isle, permit me, for the present, to keep them secret, as the success of the expedition depends on it. You need only be told that I do not wish to compromise the interests of anyone, and that I intend to run all the risk alone." "You do not understand me, brother, or else I have explained myself badly," David replied. "If I asked you in what way you proposed to act, I was not at all impelled by a puerile curiosity, but because, in so serious a question, which interests the entire association, we have resolved to accompany you, and to die or conquer with you. We wish to share the honour of the triumph, or assume a part of the defeat." Montbarts felt involuntarily affected by these generous words, so nobly pronounced; and by a spontaneous movement he held out his hands to the filibusters, who pressed them energetically, and said,-- "You are right, brothers. We must all share in the great work which, I hope, will at length place us in the position to achieve great things. We will all go to Tortoise Island. But I will ask you--and believe me that I am not speaking thus through any ambitious motive--to let me conduct the expedition." "Are you not our chief?" the filibusters exclaimed. "We will obey you according to the laws of buccaneering," David added. "The man who conceives an expedition has alone the right to command. We will be your soldiers." "That is settled, brothers. Tomorrow morning, at eleven, after attending the sale of the new engagés, who arrived from France the day before yesterday, I will go to the governor, and tell him I am preparing a fresh expedition, and enlistment can begin at once." "Not one of us will be missing at the rendezvous," said Belle Tête. "I must buy two engagés to fill the places of two idlers, who have just died of sheer idleness." "That is settled," said Bartholomew. "At eleven o'clock we will all be at Basse Terre." They then rose and prepared to retire: for the whole night had passed away in these discussions, and the sun, although still beneath the horizon, was already beginning to tinge it with a purple hue, that testified it would soon appear. "By the way," Montbarts said, with an indifferent air to Morgan, whom with the rest he accompanied to the head of the path; "if you are not greatly attached to your Carib--I forget how you call him--" "Omopoua?" "Ah! yes. Well, I was saying that if you were not indisposed to part with him, I should feel obliged by your letting me have him." "Do you want him?" "Yes. I think he will be useful to me." "In that case, take him, brother. I yield him to you, although he is a good workman, and I am satisfied with him." "Thanks, brother. What value do you set on him?" "Well, I will not bargain with you, brother. I saw a rather handsome fusil in your house. Give it to me, and take the Indian, and we shall be quits." "Wait a minute, then." "Why?" "Because I will give you the fusil at once. You will send me the Indian; or, if I have time, I will call and fetch him during the day." The filibuster returned to the hatto, took down the fusil, and carried it to Morgan, who threw it on his shoulder with a movement of joy. "Well, that is settled," he said. "Good-bye, for the present." "We shall meet again soon," Montbarts answered, and they separated. Montbarts threw a thick cloak over his shoulders, put on a broad brimmed hat, whose brim fell over his face, and concealed his features, and then turning to Michael, said: "Mate, an important matter obliges me to go to Basse Terre; you will go to our governor, the Chevalier de Fontenay, and without entering into any details, and being very careful not to betray our secret, you will simply warn him that I am preparing a fresh expedition." "Very good, mate, I will go," Michael answered. "You will then examine the lugger, and occupy yourself with Bowline, in getting her ready to put to sea." After giving these instructions to the two sailors, Montbarts left the house, and descended the cliff. The Chevalier de Fontenay, like M. d'Esnambuc, whom he had succeeded two years before as governor of St. Kitts, was a cadet of Normandy, who had come to the isles to try his fortune, and before becoming governor had joined in many buccaneering expeditions. He was exactly the man they wanted; he left them at liberty to act as they pleased, never asked them for any accounts, understood at half a word, and contented himself with raising a tithe on the prizes--a voluntary tribute which the adventurers paid him in return for the protection he was supposed to give them in the king's name by legitimating their position. The sun had risen, a fresh sea breeze caused the leaves to rustle, and the birds were singing on the branches. Montbarts walked on hurriedly, looking neither to the right nor left, and apparently plunged in deep thought. On reaching the entrance of the village of Basse Terre, instead of entering it, he skirted it, and going along a narrow path that crossed a tobacco plantation, he went toward the interior of the island, proceeding in the direction of Mount Misery, whose rise was already perceptible beneath his feet. After a very long walk, the filibuster at length stopped at the entrance of a dry gorge, on one of the slopes of which stood a wretched hut of tree trunks, poorly covered with palm leaves. A man was standing in the doorway of this cabin: on perceiving Montbarts he uttered a cry of joy and rushed toward him, running over the rocks with the rapidity and lightness of a deer. This man was Omopoua, the Carib; on coming up to the filibuster, he fell on his knees. "Rise," the adventurer said to him, "what have you to thank me for?" "My master told me an hour ago that I no longer belonged to him, but to you." "Well, did I not promise it to you?" "That is true, but the white men always promise, and never keep their word." "You see a proof of the contrary; come, get up, your master has sold you to me, it is true, but I give you your liberty; you have now but one master, God." The Indian rose, laid his hand on his chest, tottered, his features were contracted, and for a moment he seemed suffering from a violent internal emotion, which in spite of all the power he had over himself, he could not succeed in mastering. Montbarts, calm and gloomy, examined him attentively, while fixing a scrutinizing glance upon him. At length the Indian succeeded in speaking, though his voice issued from his throat like a whistle. "Omopoua was a renowned chief among his people," he said; "a Spaniard had degraded him by making him a slave, through treachery, and selling him like a beast of burden: you restore Omopoua to the rank from which he ought never to have descended. It is well, you lose a bad slave, but gain a devoted friend; were it not for you I should be dead--my life belongs to you." Montbarts offered the Carib his hand, which he kissed respectfully. "Do you intend to remain at Saint Kitts, or would you like to return to Haiti?" "The family of Omopoua," the Indian replied, "and what remains of his people, are wandering about the savannahs of Bohis, but where you go, I will go." "Very good, you shall follow me; now lead me to the man, you know whom." "At once." "Are you certain he is a Spaniard?" "I am." "You do not know for what motives he has entered the island?" "I do not." "And at what place has he sought shelter?" "With an Englishman." "In the English colony there?" "No; at Basse Terre." "All the better. What is the Englishman's name?" "Captain William Drake." "Captain Drake!" Montbarts exclaimed with surprise, "It is impossible." "It is so." "In that case, the Captain does not know him." "No; the man entered his house and asked for hospitality, and the Captain could not refuse it to him." "That is true; go up to my hatto, take clothes, a fusil--in short, what weapons you like, and come to me at Captain Drake's; if I am no longer there, you will find me on the port; begone." Montbarts then turned back, and proceeded toward Basse Terre, while the Carib went towards the hatto as the bird flies, according to Indian custom. Basse Terre was the entrepôt, or to speak more correctly, the headquarters of the French colony: at the period when our story is laid it was only a miserable township, built without order, according to the caprice or convenience of each owner, an agglomeration of huts, rather than a town, but producing at a distance a most picturesque effect through this very chaos of houses of all shapes and sizes, thus grouped along the seashore, in front of magnificent roads, filled with vessels swinging at their anchors, and constantly furrowed by an infinite number of canoes. A battery of six guns, built on an advanced point, defended the entrance of the roads. But in this town, apparently so mean, dirty, and wretched, it was possible to watch the circulation of the life full of sap, vigour, and violence belonging to the strange inhabitants, unique in the world, who formed its heterogeneous population. The narrow gloomy streets were crowded with people of every description and colour, who came and went with a busy air. There were pothouses at the corner of all the streets and squares, perambulating dealers shouted their goods in a ropy voice, and public criers, followed by a crowd which was swelled at every step by all the idlers, announced with a mighty noise of trumpets and drums, the sale on that very day of the engagés, who had just arrived in a Company's vessel. Montbarts passed unnoticed through the crowd, and reached the door of Captain Drake's house--a rather handsome looking and cleanly kept house, which stood on the seashore at no great distance from the governor's residence. The filibuster pushed the door, which, according to the custom of the country, was not locked, and entered the house. CHAPTER XV. THE SPY. Montbarts, as we said, walked into the house. There were two persons in the first room, which was contrived a double debt to pay, as half sitting room, half kitchen. These two persons were an engagé of Captain Drake and a stranger. As for the Captain, he was absent at the moment. The filibuster's eye flashed at the sight of the stranger, and an ill-omened smile curled his pale lips. As for the latter, he was seated at a table in the middle of the room, and quietly breakfasting on a piece of cold bacon, washed down by a bottle of Bordeaux,--a wine, let us remark, parenthetically, which, though unknown in Paris till the reign of Louis XV., when the Duc de Richelieu brought it into fashion on his return from the government of Guyenne--had been for a long time appreciated in America. The stranger was of rather tall stature, with a pale face, and ascetic features, thin, bony, and angular; but his noble manners indicated a high rank in society, which rank his simple and even more than modest costume tried in vain to conceal. On the filibuster's entrance, the stranger, without raising his head, took a side-glance at him from under his long velvety eyelashes, and again became absorbed or appeared to be so, in the contemplation of the capital breakfast set before him. Everything was in common among the filibusters, everyone took from the other, whether he was at home or not, anything he wanted, arms, gunpowder, clothes or food, and the person from whom it was taken had no right to protest or make the slightest observation; this was not merely admitted and tolerated, but was regarded as a right which all took advantage of without the slightest scruple. Montbarts, after looking round the room, took a chair, seated himself unceremoniously opposite the stranger, and turning to the engagé, said-- "Bring me some breakfast--I am hungry." The other, without venturing the slightest remark, immediately prepared to obey. In a very short time he had served up an excellent breakfast for the filibuster, and then took his place behind his chair to wait on him. "My friend," the filibuster said, carelessly, "I thank you; but when I take my meals I do not like to have anybody behind me. Leave the room, but remain in front of the house door;" and he added, with a singularly meaning glance, "let no one enter here without my orders: no one--you understand me?" he said, laying a stress on the words; "Not even your master, were he to come. Can I depend on you?" "Yes, Montbarts," said the engagé, and left the room. At the name of Montbarts, uttered by the servant, the stranger gave an almost imperceptible start, and fixed an anxious glance on the filibuster; but immediately recovering himself, he began eating again in the most perfect tranquillity, or at least apparently so. For his part, Montbarts went on eating without troubling himself, or seeming to trouble himself, about the guest seated just opposite to him. This performance went on for some minutes; no other sound was heard in the room, where such violent passions were smouldering, but that produced by the knives and forks scratching on the platters. At length Montbarts raised his head and looked at the stranger. "You are very taciturn, sir," he said to him, with the simple air of a man who is wearied at a lengthened silence, and wishes to get up a conversation. "I, sir?" the stranger replied, as he looked up in his turn with the calmest air; "Not that I am aware of." "Still, sir," the filibuster resumed, "I would remark, that during the quarter of an hour I have had the honour of passing in your company, you have not once addressed a syllable to me, not even in greeting." "Pray excuse me, sir," the stranger said, with a slight bow; "the fault is entirely involuntary: besides, as I have not the advantage of knowing you--? "Are you quite sure of that, sir?" the adventurer interrupted, ironically. "At least, I think so; hence, having nothing to say to you, I suppose that it would be useless to begin a conversation which would have no object." "Who knows, sir?" the filibuster remarked, jeeringly; "Conversations the most frivolous at the outset, frequently become very interesting at the expiration of a few minutes." "I doubt whether that would be the case with ours, sir. Permit me, therefore, to break it off at once. Besides, I have finished my meal," the stranger said, rising; "and some serious business claims my attention. Pray forgive me, therefore, for parting company so hurriedly, and believe in the sincerity of my regret." The adventurer did not leave his seat, but throwing himself back in it with a graceful nonchalance, while playing with the knife he held in his hand, he said in his gentle insinuating voice-- "Pardon me, my dear sir; only one word, pray." "In that case make haste, sir," the stranger replied, as he stopped, "for I am greatly pressed for time, I assure you." "Oh! You will certainly grant me a few minutes," the adventurer remarked, with the old sarcasm. "As you desire it so eagerly, I will not refuse it you, sir. But I really am in a hurry." "I have no doubt on that point, sir; more especially hurried to leave this house--is it not so?" "What do you mean, sir?" the stranger asked, haughtily. "I mean," the adventurer replied, as he rose and placed himself between the stranger and the door, "that it is useless to feign any longer, and that you are recognized." "I recognized? I do not understand you. What does this language mean?" "It means," Montbarts said brutally, "that you are a spy and a traitor, and that you will be hanged within ten minutes." "I?" the stranger replied, with very cleverly assumed surprise; "Why, you must be mad, sir, or suffering under a strange mistake. Let me pass, I request." "I am not mad or mistaken, Señor Don Antonio de la Ronda." The stranger started, a livid pallor covered his face, but he immediately recovered himself. "Why, this is madness!" he said. "Sir," Montbarts remarked, still calm, but remaining in front of the door, "when I affirm, you deny. It is evident that one of us lies, or is mistaken. Now I declare that it is not I, hence it must be you; and to remove your last doubts on this point, listen to this, but first be good enough to resume your seat. We shall have, however much it may annoy you, to converse for some time and I will remark, that it is a very bad taste to talk standing face to face like two gamecocks ready to fly at each other's combs, when it is possible to act otherwise." Mastered, in spite of himself, by the adventurer's flashing glance obstinately fixed on him, and by his sharp, imperative accent, the stranger returned to his seat, and fell into it rather than sat down. "Now, sir," the filibuster continued, in the same calm voice, as he reseated himself and placed his elbows on the table, "in order at once to dissipate all the doubts you may have, and to prove to you that I know more about you than you will doubtless like, let me tell you your history in a couple of words." "Sir!" the stranger interrupted. "Oh, fear nothing," he added, with studied sarcasm, "I shall be brief: I no more like than you do to waste my time in idle discourses; but just notice, by the bye, that, as I prophesied, our conversation, at first frivolous, has suddenly grown interesting. Is not this singular, I ask you?" "I am awaiting your explanation, sir," the stranger replied, coolly; "for, up to the present, whatever you may say, I do not comprehend a word of all that it pleases you to say to me." "By Heavens! You are a man after my heart. I was not mistaken about you. Brave, cold, and crafty, you are worthy to be a filibuster, and to lead an adventurous life with us." "You do me a great honour, sir; but all this does not tell me--" "Zounds! I am coming to it, sir--a little patience. How quick you are! Take care: in your profession a man must be cool before all else, and you are not so at this moment." "You are very witty, sir," the stranger said, bowing ironically to his opponent. The latter was offended by this sudden attack, and smote the table with his fist. "Here is your history in two words, sir," he said. "You are an Andalusian, born at Malaga, a younger son, and consequently destined to take orders. One fine day, not feeling any liking for the tonsure, you fled from the paternal roof and embarked on a Spanish vessel bound for Hispaniola. Your name is Don Antonio de la Ronda. You see, sir, that up to this point I am well informed, am I not?" "Pray go on, sir," the stranger replied, with perfect coolness; "your remarks are most interesting." Montbarts shrugged his shoulders, and went on. "On arriving at Hispaniola, you contrived, in a short time, thanks to your good looks and polished manners, to secure powerful protectors; and thus, though you only left Europe three years ago, you have made such rapid progress, that you are at present one of the most influential men in the colony. Unluckily--" "Do you say unluckily?" the stranger interrupted with a jeering smile. "Yes, sir," the adventurer replied imperturbably; "unluckily your fortune turned your head so thoroughly--" "So thoroughly?" "That in defiance of your friends, you were arrested and threatened with a trial for embezzling a sum of nearly two million piastres; a noble amount, on which I compliment you. Any other man but you, sir, I feel a pleasure in allowing the fact, would have been ruined, or nearly so, as the case was very serious; and the Council of the Indies does not joke on money matters." "Permit me to interrupt you, my dear sir," the stranger said with the most perfect ease; "you are telling this story in a very talented manner, but if you go on so, it threatens to last indefinitely. If you permit it, I will finish it in a few words." "Ah! Ah! Then you allow its truth now?" "Of course," the stranger said with admirable coolness. "You acknowledge yourself to be Don Antonio de la Ronda?" "Why should I deny it longer, when you are so well informed?" "Better still; so that you confess to fraudulently entering the colony for the object of--" "I confess anything you like," the Spaniard said quickly. "Well, that being well established, you deserve to be hung, and you will be so in a few minutes." "Well, no," he replied without losing any of his coolness; "that is where we differ essentially in opinion, sir, your conclusion is not in the least logical." "What?" the adventurer exclaimed, surprised at this sudden change of humour which he did not expect. "I said that your conclusion was not logical." "I heard you perfectly." "And I am going to prove it," he continued; "grant me in your turn a few moments' attention." "Very good; we must be merciful to those who are about to die." "You are very kind; but thank Heaven I am not there yet. There's many a slip between the cup and the lip, as a very sensible proverb says." "Go on," the filibuster said with an ominous smile. But the Spaniard was not affected. "It is evident to me, sir, that you have some business or bargain to propose to me." "I?" "Certainly, and for this reason; having recognized me as a spy, for I must allow that I am really one (you see that I am frank in my confession), nothing was easier for you than to have me strung up to the nearest tree, without any form of trial." "Yes, but I am going to do so." "No, you will not do it now, and for this reason. You believe for reasons I am ignorant of, for I will not insult you by supposing that you had a feeling of pity for me, you who are so justly called by my countrymen the Exterminator--you believe, I say, that I can serve you, be useful to you in the success of one of your plans; consequently instead of having me hanged, as you would have done under any other circumstances, you came straight to find me here, where I fancied myself well hidden, in order to converse with me, like one friend with another. Well, I ask for nothing better, come, speak, I am listening; what do you want of me?" And after uttering these words with the most easy air he could assume, Don Antonio threw himself back in his chair delicately rolling a cigarette between his fingers. The filibuster gazed for a moment at the Spaniard with a surprise which he did not attempt to conceal, and then burst into a laugh. "That will do," he said, "I prefer that; at least there will be no misunderstanding between us. Yes, you have guessed correctly, I have a proposal to make to you." "That was not difficult to discover, sir; and pray what is the nature of the proposal?" "Well, it is very simple, I only require you to act exactly in the opposite way to what you intended, to change sides, in short." "Very good, I understand, that is to say, instead of betraying you for the advantage of Spain, I am to betray Spain for your profit." "Yes, you see it is easy." "Very easy, in fact, but decidedly shabby; and supposing that I consent to your request, what advantage shall I derive from it?" "In the first place I need hardly say that you will not be hung." "Pooh! To die by hanging, drowning, or a musket ball, is always much the same thing. I should desire a more distinct benefit, with your leave." "Confound it, you are difficult to satisfy, then it is nothing to save one's neck from a slip knot?" "My dear sir, when, as in my case, a man has nothing to lose and consequently everything to gain by any change in his position, death is rather a comfort than a calamity." "You are a philosopher, so it seems." "No, confound it! such absurdity never troubled me, I am merely a desperate man." "That is often the same thing; but let us return to our matter." "Yes, that will be better." "Well! I offer you my whole share of the first ship I take; does that suit you?" "That is something better; but unluckily the ship to which you refer is like the bear in the fable, not caught yet; I should prefer something more substantial." "Well, I see I must yield to you; serve me well and I will reward you so generously that the King of Spain himself could not do more." "Well, that is agreed, I'll run the risk; now be kind enough to tell me the nature of the service you expect from me?" "I wish you to help me in taking by surprise Tortoise Island, where you lived for a long time, and where, if I do not err, you still have friends." "I see no inconvenience in trying that, although I will begin by making my reservations." "What are they?" "That I do not pledge myself to insure the success of your hazardous undertaking." "That remark is fair, but do not alarm yourself, if the Island is well defended, it shall be well attacked." "I am convinced; now for the next matter." "I will let you know it when the time arrives, señor; for the present, other business engages our attention." "As you please, sir, you will be the best judge of the opportunity." "Now, sir, as I had the honour of telling you at the outset, since I know you to be a very sharp hand, and very capable of slipping through my fingers like an eel, without the slightest scruple, and as I wish to avoid that eventuality, and save you any notion of the sort, you will do me the pleasure of going at once aboard my lugger." "A prisoner!" the Spaniard said with a gesture of ill humour. "Not as a prisoner, my dear Don Antonio, but regarded as a hostage, and treated as such, that is to say, with all the attention compatible with our common security." "Still, the word of a gentleman--" "Is valued between gentlemen, I allow, but with us _Ladrones_, as you call us, it has no value in my opinion; you hidalgos of old Spain, even make it a case of conscience to violate it without the slightest scruple, when your interest invites you to do so." Don Antonio hung his head; recognizing in his heart, though unwilling to allow it, the exact truth, of the filibuster's words. The latter enjoyed for a moment the Spaniard's discomfiture, and then rapped the table twice or thrice with the handle of his knife. The captain's engagé at once entered the room. "What do you want of me, Montbarts?" he asked. "Tell me, my good fellow," the adventurer asked, "have you not seen a red Carib prowling round this house?" "Pardon me, Montbarts, a Carib asked me only a moment ago, whether you were here, and I answered in the affirmative, but I did not like to transgress the orders I had received from you, and allow him to enter as he desired." "Very good. Did not the man mention his name?" "On the contrary, that was the very first thing he did; it is Omopoua." "The very man I was expecting; tell him to come in, pray, for he is sure to be hanging about the door; and come with him." The engagé went out. "What do you want with this man?" the Spaniard asked with a shade of anxiety, which did not escape the adventurer's sharp eye. "This Indian is simply intended to be your guard of honour," he said. "Hum! It really seems as if you are anxious to keep me." "Extremely so, señor." At this moment, the engagé returned followed by the Carib, who had made no change in his primitive costume; but had taken advantage of Montbarts' permission to arm himself to the teeth. "Omopoua and you, my friend, listen attentively to what I am going to say to you; you see this man?" he said pointing to the Spaniard who was still perfectly impassive. "We see him," they answered. "You will take him on board the lugger and hand him over to my mate, Michael the Basque, recommending him to watch over his guest most attentively! If, during the passage from here to the vessel, this man attempts to take to flight, blow out his brains without mercy. Have you understood me thoroughly?" "Yes," said the engagé, "trust to us, we answer for him with our heads." "That is well, I accept your word; and now, sir," he added, addressing Don Antonio, "be good enough to follow these two men." "I yield to force, sir." "Very good, that is how I regard the matter, but reassure yourself, your captivity will be neither harsh nor long, and I shall keep the promises I have made you, if you keep yours. Now, go and farewell for the present." The Spaniard, without replying, placed himself between his two keepers voluntarily and left the room. Montbarts remained alone. CHAPTER XVI. THE SLAVE SALE. A moment after Montbarts rose, put on his cloak, which he had thrown on a chair when he came in, and prepared to quit the house. On the threshold he found himself face to face with Captain Drake. "Ah," said the latter, "here you are." "Yes! I have been breakfasting at your house." "You did well." "Will you accompany me to the sale?" "I do not want any hired man." "Nor I, but you know the enlistment will commence immediately afterwards." "That is true; let me say a word first to my engagé, and I will follow you." "He has gone out." "Why! I ordered him not to leave the house." "I have given him a commission." "Oh! That is different." "You do not ask me what the commission is I have given your engagé," Montbarts remarked a moment later. "Why should I? It does not concern me, I suppose." "More than you imagine, brother." "Nonsense, how so?" "You offered hospitality to a stranger, did you not?" "Yes, but what of that?" "You shall see. This stranger, whom you do not know, for of course you do not--" "No more than Adam; what do I care who he is? hospitality is one of those things which cannot be refused." "That is true, but I recognized the man." "Ah, ah, and who is he then?" "Nothing less than a Spanish spy, brother." "My God!" the captain said, stopping dead short. "What is the matter with you now?" "Nothing, nothing, except that I will go and blow out his brains, unless you have done so already." "Pray, do nothing of the sort; this man, I feel convinced, brother, will prove very useful to us." "Nonsense, how so?" "Leave me to act; if we manage properly, we may draw profit even from a Spanish spy; in the meanwhile, I have had him taken on board the lugger by your engagé, and a man of my own, where he will be watched so that he cannot part company." "I trust to you for that, and thank you, brother, for having freed me from the scoundrel." While talking thus, the two men arrived at the spot where the sale of the engagés to the colonists was to take place. On the right of the square was a spacious shed, built of clumsily planed planks, and open to the wind and rain; in the centre of the shed was a table for the officials and secretaries of the company, who had to manage the sale and draw up the contracts; an easy chair had been set apart for the governor, by the side of a rather lofty platform, on which each engagé, male or female, mounted in turn, so that the purchasers might examine them at their ease. These wretches, deceived by the company's agents in Europe, had contracted engagements, whose consequences they did not at all understand, and were convinced that, on their arrival in America, with the exception of a certain tax they had to pay the company for a certain period, they would be completely free to earn their livelihood as they thought proper. The majority were carpenters, masons and bricklayers, but there were also among them ruined gentlemen and libertines who detest work and who imagined that in America, the country of gold, fortune would visit them while they slept. A company's ship had arrived a few days previously and brought one hundred and fifty engagés, among them were several young and pretty women, thoroughly vitiated, however, and who, like the Manon Lescault of the Abbé Prevost, had been picked up by the police in the streets of Paris, and shipped off without further formality. These women were also sold to the colonists, not apparently as slaves, but as wives. These unions contracted in the gipsy fashion, were only intended to last a settled time which must not exceed seven years, unless with the mutual consent of the couple, though the clause was hardly ever appealed to by them; at the end of that time they separated, and each was set at liberty to form a fresh union. The engagés had been landed two days before; these two days had been granted them, that they might slightly recover from the fatigue of a long sea voyage, walk about and breathe the reviving land breeze, of which they had so long been deprived. At the moment when the two adventurers arrived, the sale had been going on for half an hour; the shed was crowded with colonists who desired to purchase slaves, for we are compelled to use that odious term, for the poor creatures were nothing else. At the sight of Montbarts, however, whose name was justly celebrated, a passage was opened, and he thus succeeded in reaching the side of the governor, Chevalier de Fontenay, round whom the most renowned adventurers were collected, among them being Michael the Basque. Monsieur de Fontenay received Montbarts with distinction; he even rose from his chair and walked two or three steps to meet him, which the filibusters considered in very good taste, and felt grateful to him for it; this honour paid to the most celebrated among them cast a reflection on them all. After exchanging a few compliments with the governor, Montbarts bent down to Michael's ear. "Well, mate?" he said to him. "The Spaniard is aboard," Michael replied, "and carefully watched by Bowline." "In that case I can be at my ease?" "Perfectly." During this aside, the sale had been going on. All the male engagés had been sold, with the exception of one who was standing at this moment on the platform, by the side of a company's agent, who acted as auctioneer, and praised the qualities of the human merchandise he offered. This engagé was a short, stout, powerfully built man, from twenty-five to twenty-six years of age, with harsh, energetic, but intelligent features, whose grey eyes sparkled with audacity and good humour. "Pierre Nau, native of the sands of Olonne," said the company's agent, "twenty-five years of age, powerful and in good health, a sailor. Who'll say forty crowns for the Olonnais, forty crowns for three years, gentlemen." "Come, come," said the engagé, "if the person who buys me is a man, he will have a good bargain." "Going for forty crowns," the company's agent repeated, "forty crowns, gentlemen." Montbarts turned to the engagé. "What, you scoundrel," he said to him, "you a sailor and sell yourself instead of joining us? You have no pluck." The Olonnais began laughing. "You know nothing about it. I have sold myself, because I must do so," he answered, "so that my mother may be able to live during my absence." "How so?" "How does it concern you? You are not my master, and even if you were, you would have no right to inquire into my private affairs." "You seem to me a bold fellow," Montbarts remarked. "Indeed, I believe I am; besides, I wish to become an adventurer like you fellows, and for that purpose I must serve my apprenticeship to the trade." "Going for forty crowns," cried the agent. Montbarts examined with the most serious attention the engagé, whose firm glance he could hardly manage to quell; then, doubtless satisfied with his triumph, he turned to the agent. "That will do," he said, "hold your row: I buy this man." "The Olonnais is adjudged to Montbarts the exterminator, for forty crowns," the agent said. "Here they are," the adventurer answered as he threw a handful of silver on the table; "now come," he ordered the Olonnais, "you are now my engagé." The latter leapt joyously off the platform and ran up to him. "So you are Montbarts the exterminator?" he asked him curiously. "I think you are questioning me," the adventurer said with a laugh, "still, as your question appears to me very natural, I will answer it this time; yes, I am Montbarts." "In that case I thank you for buying me, Montbarts; with you I am certain soon to become a man." And at a sign from his new master, he respectfully placed himself behind him. The most curious part of the sale for the adventurers then began, that is to say, the sale of the women. The poor wretches, mostly young and pretty, mounted the platform trembling, and in spite of their efforts to keep a good countenance, they blushed with shame, and burning tears ran down their cheeks on seeing themselves thus exposed before all these men, whose flashing eyes were fixed upon them. The company made its greatest profit by the women, and it was the more easy to realise, because they were got for nothing, and sold at the highest possible figure. The men were generally knocked down at a price varying from thirty to forty dollars, but never went beyond that; with the women it was different, they were put up to auction, and the governor alone had the right to stop the sale, when the price appeared to him sufficiently high. These women were always sold amid cries, shouts and coarse jests, generally addressed to the adventurers who did not fear running the risk of venturing on the shoal-beset ocean of marriage. Belle Tête, that furious adventurer to whom we have already referred, and whom we saw at the meeting at the hatto, had, as he had resolved, purchased two engagés to take the place of the two who had died, so he said, of indolence, but, in reality of the blows he dealt them; then, instead of returning home he had confided the engagés to his overseer; for the adventurers, like the slave owners, had overseers, whose duty it was to make the white slaves toil; and the adventurer remained in the shed watching the sale of the women with the most lively interest. His friends did not fail to cut jokes at his expense, but he contented himself with shrugging his shoulders disdainfully, and stood with his hands crossed on the muzzle of his long fusil, and with his eyes obstinately fixed on the platform. A young woman had just taken her place there in her turn; she was a frail delicate girl, with light curling hair that fell on her white rather thin chest. Her smooth and pensive forehead, her large blue eyes full of tears, her fresh cheeks, her little mouth, made her appear much younger than she in reality was; she was eighteen years of age, and her delicate waist, her well-turned lips, her decent appearance, in short everything about her delicious person had a seductive charm, which formed a complete contrast with the decided air and vulgar manners of the women who had preceded her on the platform, and those who would follow her. "Louise, born at Montmartre, aged eighteen years; who will marry her for three years, at the price of fifteen crowns?" the company's agent asked in his sarcastic voice. The poor girl buried her face in her hands and wept bitterly. "Twenty crowns for Louise," an adventurer shouted, drawing nearer. "Twenty-five," another said immediately. "Make her hold her head up so that we can have a look at her," a third cried brutally. "Come, little one," the agent said, as he obliged her to remove her hands from her face; "be polite and let them look at you, it is for your own good, hang it all! Twenty-five crowns." "Fifty," said Belle Tête, without moving from the spot. All eyes were turned to him; up to this moment Belle Tête had professed a profound hatred for marriage. "Sixty," shouted an adventurer who did not desire to buy the girl, but wished to annoy his comrade. "Seventy," said another with the same charitable intention. "One hundred," Belle Tête shouted angrily. "One hundred crowns, gentlemen, one hundred for Louise for three years," the stoical agent said. "One hundred and fifty." "Two hundred." "Two hundred and fifty." "Three hundred," several adventurers shouted, almost simultaneously, as they drew nearer to the platform. Belle Tête was pale with rage, for he feared lest she might escape him. The adventurer had persuaded himself, rightly or wrongly, that he wanted a wife to manage his household; now he had seen Louise, Louise pleased him, she was for sale, and he resolved to buy her. "Four hundred crowns!" he said with an air of defiance. "Four hundred crowns," the company's agent repeated in his monotonous voice. There was a silence. Four hundred crowns is a large sum; Belle Tête triumphed. "Five hundred!" a sharp shrill voice suddenly shouted. The contest was beginning again; the adversaries had only stopped to regain their strength. The company's agent rubbed his hands with a jubilant air, while repeating,-- "Six hundred, seven, eight, nine hundred crowns!" A species of frenzy had seized on the spectators, and all bid furiously; the girl was still weeping. Belle Tête was in a state of fury which approached to madness; clutching his fusil frenziedly in his clinched hand, he felt a wild temptation to send a bullet into the most determined of his competitors. Only the presence of M. de Fontenay restrained him. "A thousand," he shouted in a hoarse voice. "One thousand two hundred!" the most obstinate competitor immediately yelled. Belle Tête stamped savagely, threw his fusil on his shoulder, drew his cap on to his head with a blow of his fist, and then with a step as slow and solemn as that of a statue would be, if a statue could walk, he went to place himself by the side of his unendurable rival, and letting the butt of his fusil fall heavily on the ground, scarce an inch from the man's foot, he looked him in the face for a moment with a defiant air, and shouted in a voice choked by emotion,-- "Fifteen hundred!" The adventurer regarded him in his turn fiercely, fell back a step, and, after renewing the powder in the pan of his fusil, said, in a calm voice-- "Two thousand!" Before these two obstinate adversaries the other bidders had prudently withdrawn; the competition was turning into a quarrel, and threatened to become sanguinary. A deadly silence brooded over the shed; the over-excited passions of these two men had spoiled all the pleasures of the spectators, and silenced all their jokes. The Governor followed with interest the different incidents of this struggle, ready to interfere at any moment. The adventurers had gradually fallen back, and left a large free space between the two men. Belle Tête recoiled a few paces in his turn, suddenly examined the priming of his fusil, and then, pointing the latter at his adversary, shouted-- "Three thousand!" The other raised his fusil at the same moment to his shoulder. "Three thousand five hundred crowns!" he shouted, as he pulled the trigger--the fusil was discharged. But the Governor, with a movement rapid as thought, threw up the barrel with the end of his cane, and the ball lodged in the roof. Belle Tête remained motionless, though, on hearing the shot, he lowered his fusil. "Sir," the Governor exclaimed, indignantly, addressing the adventurer who had fired, "You have acted in a dishonourable way, and almost committed a murder." "Governor," the adventurer coolly replied, "when I fired he had his gun pointed at me, and hence it is a duel." The Governor hesitated, for the answer was specious. "No matter, sir," he continued, a moment later, "the laws of duelling were not respected; to punish you I put you out of the bidding. Sir," he said, addressing the company's agent, "I order that the woman, who was the cause of this deplorable aggression, be knocked down to Señor Belle Tête for three thousand crowns." The agent bowed with rather an angry look, for the worthy man had hoped, from the way things were going on, to reach a much higher figure; but he dared not make any observations to Chevalier de Fontenay; he must yield, and so he did. "Louise is adjudged for three thousand crowns," he said, with a sigh of regret--not for the woman, but for the money--"to M. Belle Tête." "Very good, Governor," the baffled adventurer said, with an ugly smile, "I must bow to your final sentence; but Belle Tête and I will meet again." "I hope so, too, Picard," Belle Tête answered, coldly; "there must be bloodshed between us now." During this time Louise had come down from the platform, when another woman took her place, and had stationed herself, still weeping, by the side of Belle Tête, who was henceforth her lord and master. M. de Fontenay gave a commiserating glance at the poor girl, who was about, in all probability, to endure such a cruel existence with so harsh a man, and then gently said to her-- "Madame, from this day you are for three years the legitimate wife of M. Belle Tête, and owe him obedience, affection, and fidelity; such are the laws of the colony: in three years you will be your own mistress, at liberty to leave him or to continue to live with him, if he desire it; be good enough to sign this paper." The unhappy woman, blinded by her tears, and crushed by despair, signed, without looking at it, the paper which the Governor offered her; then she cast a heart-broken glance at this silent and indifferent crowd, in which she knew that she could not find a friend. "Now, sir," she asked, in a gentle and trembling voice, "what must I do?" "You must follow this man, who will be your husband for three years," M. de Fontenay answered, with a touch of pity, which he could not overcome. At this moment Belle Tête laid his hand on the girl's shoulder; she shuddered all over, and looked wildly at him. "Yes," he said, "my girl, you must follow me; for, as the Governor has told you, I am your husband for three years, and till the expiration of that time, you will have no other master but me. Now, listen to this, my darling, and engrave it carefully on your mind, so as to remember it at the right moment: what you have done, what you have been, until now, does not concern me, and I care little about it; but," he added, in a hollow, ferocious voice, which chilled the poor girl with horror, "from this day, from this moment, you belong to me--to me alone: I intrust to you my honour, which becomes yours, and if you compromise that honour--if you forget your duties," he said, as he dashed the butt end of his musket on the ground, so harshly, that the hammer rattled with an ill-omened sound, "this will remind you of them; now, follow me." "Be gentle to her, Belle Tête," M. de Fontenay could not help saying--"she is so young." "I shall be just, Governor: now, thanks for your impartiality, it is time for me to retire. Picard, my old friend, you know where to find me." "I shall not fail to come and see you, but I do not, wish to trouble your honeymoon," Picard replied, with a growl. Belle Tête withdrew, followed by his wife. The sale henceforth offered nothing of interest; the few women remaining were sold at prices far inferior to that which Louise had fetched, to the great regret, we are bound to add, of the Company's agent. The adventurers were preparing to leave the shed where they imagined there was nothing more to see; but at this moment Montbarts mounted the platform, and addressed the crowd in a sonorous voice-- "Brothers," he said, "stay, I have an important communication to make to you." The adventurers remained motionless. CHAPTER XVII. THE ENLISTMENT. All the adventurers assembled round the platform, anxiously awaiting what Montbarts had to tell them. "Brothers," he said, a moment after, "I am preparing a new expedition, for which I require three hundred resolute men; who among you will follow Montbarts the Exterminator?" "All, all!" the adventurers shouted, enthusiastically. The Governor prepared to withdraw. "Pardon me, Chevalier de Fontenay," Montbarts said, "be kind enough to remain a few minutes longer; the expedition I have projected is most serious: I am about to dictate a charter party, to which I will ask you, as Governor of the colony, to append your signature before that of our companions--moreover, I have a bargain to propose to you." "I will remain, since you desire it, Montbarts," the Governor replied, as he returned to his seat; "now be kind enough to inform me of the bargain you wish to propose." "You are the owner, sir, I think, of two brigantines of eighty tons each?" "I am." "These brigantines are useless to you at this moment, as you appear, at least until fresh orders, to have given up cruising, while they will be very useful to me." "In that case, sir, they are at your service from this moment," the Governor replied, gallantly. "I thank you, as I ought, for your politeness, sir, but that is not my meaning; in an expedition like the one I meditate, no one can foresee what may happen, hence I propose to buy your two ships for four thousand crowns cash." "Very good, sir, since you wish it; I am delighted to be of service to you; the two ships are yours." "I shall have the honour of handing you the four thousand crowns within an hour." The two men bowed; and then the filibuster turned to the adventurers, who were waiting, panting with, impatience, and whose curiosity had been heightened by the purchase of the two vessels. "Brothers," he said, in his sonorous and sympathetic voice, "for two months past no expedition has been attempted, and no ship has put to sea; are you not beginning to grow tired of this idle life which you and I are leading? Are you not beginning to run short of money, and are not your purses light? Zounds, comrades, come with me, and within a fortnight your pockets shall be full of Spanish doubloons, and the pretty girls, who today are so coy, will then lavish their most charming smiles on you--down with the Spaniards, brothers! Those of you who are willing to follow me can give their names to Michael the Basque, my mate. Still, as the shares will be large, the danger will be great; to obtain them I only want men resolved to conquer or to die bravely, without asking quarter of the enemy or granting it; I am Montbarts the Exterminator--I grant no mercy to the Spaniards, nor do I ask it of them." Enthusiastic shouts greeted these words, uttered with that accent which the celebrated filibuster knew so well how to assume when he wished to seduce the individuals he was addressing. The enlistment began; Michael the Basque had seated himself at the table previously occupied by the Company's agent, and wrote down the names of the adventurers, who pressed round him in a crowd, and who all wished to join in an expedition which they foresaw would be most lucrative. But Michael had received strict instructions from his master: convinced that he should not want for men, and that more would offer than he needed, he carefully selected those whose names he took, and pitilessly rejected those adventurers whose reputation for, we will not say bravery, for all were brave as lions, but for reckless daring, was not thoroughly established. Still in spite of Michael's intended strictness, the number of three hundred was soon complete. We need scarce say they were the flower of the filibusters, all adventurers, the least renowned of whom had performed deeds of incredible daring, men with whom attempting impossibilities and achieving them had become but mere child's play. The first inserted were, as had been agreed on the preceding night, the members of the society of the Twelve. Hence M. de Fontenay, who, an old filibuster himself, knew all these men, not only by reputation, but from having seen them at work, could not recover from his surprise, and incessantly repeated to Montbarts, who was standing, calm and smiling at his side, "What can you be after? Do you mean to seize on Hispaniola?" "Who knows?" the filibuster replied sportively. "Still, I think I have a right to your confidence," the governor said in an offended tone. "The most entire, Sir; still, you are aware that the first condition of security in an expedition is secrecy." "That is true." "I cannot tell you anything, but do not prevent you from guessing." "Guessing! But how?" "Well, perhaps the charter party will set you on the right track." "Well, let me hear it." "A little patience still; but stay, here is Michael coming toward me. Well," he asked him, "have you completed our number?" "I should think so; I have three hundred and fifty men." "Hang it, that is a great number." "I could not do otherwise than accept them; when it is a question about going with Montbarts, it is impossible to keep them back." "Well, we will take them, if it must be so," Montbarts said with a smile, "give me your list." Michael handed it to him; the filibuster looked round him, and perceived an agent of the Company, whom curiosity had kept back, and who had remained in the shed to witness the enlistment. "You are a Company's agent, I think, sir?" he said to him, politely. "Yes, sir," the agent replied with a bow, "I have that honour." "In that case, may I ask you to do me a service?" "Speak, sir, I shall be only too glad to oblige you." "My companions and myself are no great clerks, and we can use a hatchet better than a pen; would it be presuming too much on your kindness to ask you to be good enough to serve as my secretary for a few minutes, and write down the charter party I shall dictate to you, and which my comrades will sign, after having it read to them?" "I am only too happy, sir, that you deign to honour me with your confidence," the agent said with a bow. Then he seated himself at the table, selected some paper, mended a pen and waited. "Silence, if you please, gentlemen," said the Chevalier de Fontenay, who had exchanged a few words in a low voice with Montbarts. The private conversations were checked, and a profound silence was established almost instantaneously. M. de Fontenay continued. "A filibustering expedition, composed of three ships, two brigantines and a lugger, is about to leave St. Kitts, under the command of Montbarts, whom I appoint, in the name of His most Christian Majesty, Louis, fourteenth of that name, admiral of the fleet. This expedition, whose object remains secret, has been joined by 350 men, the flower of the filibusters. The three captains chosen to command the ships are, Michael the Basque, William Drake, and John David. They are ordered to obey in every point the commands they will receive from the admiral, and each captain will himself appoint his officers." Then, turning to Montbarts, he added, "Now admiral, dictate the charter party." The adventurer bowed, and addressing the Company's agent, who was watching with head and pen erect, he said to him-- "Are you ready, sir?" "I await your orders." "In that case write as I dictate." No expedition ever left port without having previously proclaimed the charter party: this document, in which the rights of each man were rigorously stipulated, served as the supreme law for these men, who, undisciplined though they were ashore, bowed without a murmur to the strictest decrees of the naval code: so soon as they had set foot on the vessel for which they were engaged, the captain of yesterday became a sailor today, accepted without grumbling the eventual inferiority which the duration of the cruise alone maintained, and which ended on the return to port, by placing each member of the expedition on the same level, and on a footing of the most perfect equality. We quote literally the charter party our readers are about to peruse, because from this authentic act they will understand more easily the range and power of this strange association, and the manner in which the filibusters treated each other. Montbarts dictated what follows in a calm voice amid the religious silence of his auditors, who only interrupted him at intervals, by shouts of approbation. "Charter party decreed by Admiral Montbarts, Captains Michael the Basque, William Drake, John David, and the Brethren of the Coast, who have voluntarily placed themselves under their orders, and which is fully consented to by them." "The admiral will have a right, in addition to his share, to one man per hundred." "Each captain will receive twelve shares." "Each brother four shares." "These shares will only be counted after the king's part has been deducted from all the shares." "The surgeons will receive, in addition to their share, two hundred dollars each, as payment for their medicaments." "The carpenters, in addition to their share, will each, have a claim for one hundred dollars, in remuneration of their labours." "Any disobedience will be punished by death, whatever be the name or rank of the culprit." "The brothers who distinguish themselves in the expedition will be rewarded in the following manner--The man who pulls down the enemy's flag from a fortress, and hoists the French one, will have a claim, in addition to his share, to fifty piastres." "The man who takes a prisoner, when out in search of news of the enemy, will have, in addition to his share, one hundred piastres." "The grenadiers, for each grenade thrown into a fort, five piastres." "Any man, who in action captures a high officer of the enemy, will be rewarded by the admiral, if he has risked his life, in a generous way." "Rewards offered, in addition to their share, to the wounded and mutilated." "For the loss of both legs, fifteen hundred crowns, or fifteen slaves, at the choice of the recipient: if there are enough slaves." "For the loss of both arms, eighteen hundred piastres or eighteen slaves, at choice." "For a leg, no distinction between right and left, five hundred piastres or five slaves." "For an eye, one hundred piastres or a slave; for an arm or a hand, no distinction between right and left, four hundred piastres or four slaves." "For both eyes, two thousand piastres, or twenty slaves." "For a finger, one hundred piastres or one slave: if any man be dangerously wounded in the body he will have five hundred piastres or five slaves." "It is already understood, that, in the same way, as with the king's part, all these rewards will be raised on the whole of the booty, before dividing the shares." "Any enemy's vessel captured either at sea or at anchor, will be divided between all the members of the expedition, unless it be valued at more than ten thousand crowns, in which case one thousand crowns will be set apart for the first ship's crew that boarded: the expedition will hoist the royal flag of France, and the admiral bear in addition the _red, white, and blue_ flag." "No officer or sailor of the expedition will be allowed to remain ashore anywhere unless he has previously obtained the admiral's permission, under penalty of being declared a maroon, and prosecuted as such." When this last paragraph which, like all that preceded it, had been listened to in the most profound silence, had been recorded by the Company's agent, Montbarts took the charter party, and read it through in a loud clear voice-- "Does this charter party suit you, brethren?" he then asked the filibusters. "Yes, yes," they shouted, waving their caps, "long live Montbarts! Long live Montbarts!" "And you swear, as my officers and myself swear, to obey without a murmur, and strictly carry out all the clauses of this charter party?" "We swear it," they repeated. "Very good," Montbarts continued; "the embarkation will commence at sunrise tomorrow, and all the crews must be on board the fleet before ten o'clock." "We will be there." "Now, brethren, let me remind you that each of you must be armed with a fusil, and a cutlass, have a bag of bullets, and at least three pounds of gunpowder: I repeat that the expedition we are about to undertake is most serious, so that you may not forget to choose your chums, that they may aid you in the case of illness or wounds, and make your wills, as otherwise your shares would lapse to the king. You have understood me, brothers? Employ as you please the few hours' liberty left you, but do not forget that I expect you on board at day break tomorrow." The filibusters replied by shouts, and left the shed, where there only remained the governor, Montbarts, his captains, and the new engagé called the Olonnais, whom the adventurer had bought by auction a few hours previously, and who, far from being sad, seemed, on the contrary, extremely pleased at all that was going on in his presence. "As for you, gentlemen," Montbarts said, "I have no orders to give you, for you know as well as I what you have to do. Draw lots for your commands, then go on board, inspect the masts and rigging, and get ready to sail at the first signal. These are the only recommendations, I think, I need make you. Good-bye." The three captains bowed, and at once withdrew. "Ah!" Chevalier de Fontenay said, with an accent of regret, "My dear Montbarts, I never see an expedition preparing without having a lively feeling of sorrow, and almost of envy." "Do you regret your adventurous life, sir? I understand that feeling, although each expedition brings you an augmentation of wealth." "What do I care for that? Do not believe that I make an avaricious calculation. No! My thoughts are of a higher order. But the moment is badly chosen to chatter with you. Go, sir! And if you succeed, as I do not doubt--and yet, who knows? On your return we shall perhaps be able to come to an understanding; and then we will attempt an expedition together, which I hope will be talked about for a long time." "I shall be glad," the filibuster replied, politely, "to have you as a partner. Your brilliant courage, and far from ordinary merit, are to me certain guarantees of success. I shall therefore have the honour to hold myself at your orders, if it please Heaven that I succeed this time, and return safe and sound from the expedition I meditate." "Good luck, sir; and let us hope to meet again soon." "Thank you, sir." They shook hands; and as, while conversing, they had left the shed, they went different roads, after a parting bow. The filibuster, followed by the engagé, proceeded slowly towards his house. At the moment when he left the town, a man placed himself before him, and bowed. "What do you want with me?" the adventurer asked, giving him a scrutinizing glance. "To say a word to you." "Say on." "Are you Captain Montbarts?" "You must be a stranger, to ask that question." "No matter. Answer." "I am Captain Montbarts." "In that case, this letter is for you." "A letter for me!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "Here it is," the stranger said, as he presented it. "Give it to me." And he took it from him. "Now my commission is performed, farewell." "A word, in your turn." "Speak." "From whom comes this letter?" "I do not know; but you will probably learn by reading the contents." "That is true." "Then I may retire?" "Nothing prevents you." The stranger bowed, and went away. Montbarts opened the letter, hurriedly perused it, and turned pale. Then he re-read it; but this time slowly, and as if he wished to dwell on each sentence. A moment later he seemed to form a resolution, and turned to his engagé, who was standing a few paces from him. "Come here," he said to him. "Here I am," said the other. "You are a sailor?" "A 1, I fancy." "That is well. Follow me." The filibuster turned back, hastily re-entered the town, and proceeded toward the sea. He seemed to be seeking something. A moment later, his gloomy face grew brighter. He had just seen a light canoe pulled up on the beach. "Help me to float this canoe," he said to the engagé. The latter obeyed. So soon as the canoe was afloat, Montbarts leaped in, closely followed by his engagé; and seizing the paddles, they put off from the shore. "Step the mast, so that we may hoist a sail so soon as we are free of the ships." The Olonnais, without answering, did as he was ordered. "Good!" Montbarts continued. "Now haul the sheets aft, and hand them to me, my lad." In a second the sail was hoisted, set, and the light canoe bounded like a petrel over the crest of the waves. They ran thus for some time without exchanging a word. They had left the ships far behind them, and passed out of the roads. "Do you speak Spanish?" Montbarts suddenly asked the engagé. "Like a native of Old Castile," the other answered. "Ah! Ah!" said Montbarts. "It is easy to understand," the Olonnais continued. "I went whaling with the Basques and Bayonnese, and for several years smuggled along the Spanish coast." "And do you like the Spaniards?" "No!" the other answered, with a frown. "You have a motive, of course?" "I have one." "Will you tell it me?" "Why not?" "Out with it, then." "I had a boat of my own, in which, as I told you, I smuggled. I worked six years to save up the money to buy this boat. One day, while seeking to land prohibited goods in a bay to windward of Portugalete, I was surprised by a Spanish revenue lugger. My boat was sunk, my brother killed, myself dangerously wounded, and I fell into the hands of the Gavachos. The first bandage they placed on my wounds was a bastinado, which left me for dead on the ground. Believing, doubtless, that they had killed me, they abandoned me then, and paid no further attention to me. I succeeded by boldness and cunning, after enduring indescribable tortures from hunger, cold, fatigue, &c., too lengthy to enumerate, in at length leaping across the frontier, and finding myself once again on French soil. I was free, but my brother was dead. I was ruined, and my old father ran a risk of dying of hunger--thanks to the Spaniards. Such is my history. It is not long.--How do you like it?" "It is a sad one, my good fellow; but it is as much hatred as the desire of growing rich which has brought you among us?" "It is hatred, before everything." "Good! Take the helm in my place, while I reflect. We are going to Nevis. Steer to windward of that point which juts out down there to the southeast." The engagé seized the helm. Montbarts wrapped himself in his cloak, pulled his hat over his eyes, let his head sink on his chest, and remained motionless as a statue. The canoe still advanced, vigorously impelled by the breeze. CHAPTER XVIII. NEVIS. Nevis is only separated from St. Kitts by a channel half a league in width at the most. This charming little island, whose fertility is remarkable, is, according to all probability, the result of a volcanic explosion; and this assertion is nearly proved by a crater containing a spring of hot water strongly impregnated with sulphur. Seen from a distance, it offers the appearance of a vast cone; it is, in fact, only a very lofty mountain, whose base is watered by the sea; its sides at first offering an easy incline, become, at a certain height, excessively abrupt; all vegetation ceases, and its snow covered peak is lost in the clouds. During the attack of the Spaniards on St. Kitts, several adventurers had sought shelter on this isle. Some of them, seduced by attractive sites, permanently settled there, and commenced forming plantations; few in number, it is true, and too far apart for the inhabitants to aid each other in the event of an attack from an external foe, but which prospered, and promised, ere long, to acquire a certain amount of importance. The filibuster, although his little skiff was impelled by a good breeze, took some time in reaching the island, because he was obliged to go along the entire length of the channel ere he reached the spot where he wished to go. The sun was already beginning to decline, when the canoe at length put into a small sandy creek. "Pull up the canoe, hide the paddles among the reeds," said Montbarts, "and follow me." The Olonnais obeyed with the punctuality and intelligent vivacity which he displayed in everything, and then said to his master-- "Shall I take my fusil?" "There is no harm in doing so," the latter replied; "an adventurer should never go unarmed." "Very good; I will remember that." They proceeded inland, following a scarce-traced path, which ran with a gentle incline from the beech, wound round a rather steep hill, and after passing through a leafy mahogany forest, led to a narrow esplanade, in the centre of which a light canvas tent had been pitched, not far from a rock. A man, seated before the entrance of the tent, was reading a Breviary. He was dressed in the strict attire of the Franciscans, and seemed to have passed middle life. He was pale and thin, his features were ascetic and stern, his countenance was intelligent, and a marked expression of gentleness was spread over it. At the sound of the adventurers' footsteps he raised his head quickly, turned towards them, and a melancholy smile played round his lips. Hurriedly closing his book, he rose and walked a few steps toward the newcomers. "Heaven be with you, brothers!" he said in Spanish, "If you come with pure intentions; if not, may it inspire you with better thoughts." "My father," the filibuster said, returning his salutation, "I am the man whom the adventurers of St. Kitts call Montbarts, and my intentions are pure, for in coming here I have only yielded to the desire you expressed to see me, if you are really Fray Arsenio Mendoza, from whom I received a letter a few hours ago." "I am the person who wish to see you, brother; and that is really my name." "In that case speak, I am ready to hear you." "Brother," the monk answered, "the things I have to communicate to you are of the highest importance, and concern you alone. Perhaps it would be better that you alone should hear them." "I do not know what important matters you can have to tell me, father; but in any case, learn that this man is my engagé, and, as such, it is his duty to be deaf and dumb when I order him." "Very good, I will speak in his presence, since you demand it; still, I repeat to you, that it would be better for us to be alone." "I will act in accordance with your wish. Retire out of hearing, but keep in sight," he said to his engagé. The latter retired about one hundred yards down the path, and leant on his fusil. "Do you fear any treachery on the part of a poor monk like me?" the Franciscan asked, with a sad smile; "That would be very gratuitously imputing to me intentions very remote from my thoughts." "I suppose nothing, father; still, I am accustomed," the filibuster coarsely answered, "always to be on my guard when I am in the presence of a man of your nation, whether he be priest or layman." "Yes, yes," he said, in a sorrowful voice, "you profess an implacable hatred for my unhappy country, and for that reason are called the Exterminator." "Whatever be the feelings I profess for your countrymen and the name it has pleased them to give me, it is not, I suppose, to discuss this point with me that you have come here at a serious risk, and requested me to meet you." "Indeed, it was not for that motive, you are right, my son, though, personally, I might have a good deal to say on that subject." "I would observe, father, that the hour is advancing--I have but little time at your service, and if you do not hasten to explain yourself, I shall be, to my great regret, constrained to leave you." "You would regret it for your whole life, brother, were it as long as a patriarch's." "That is possible, though I greatly doubt it. I can only receive bad news from Spain." "Perhaps so; in any case, these are the news of which I am the bearer." "I am listening to you." "I am, as my gown shows you, a monk of the order of San Francisco de Asís." "At least, you have the look of one," the adventurer remarked, with an ironical smile. "Do you doubt it?" "Why not? Would you be the first Spaniard who was not afraid to profane a sacred dress, in order to spy our movements the more easily?" "Unfortunately what you say is true, and it has happened only too often; but I am merely a monk." "I believe you, till I have proof of the contrary; so go on." "Very good. I am the spiritual director of several ladies of quality in the island of Hispaniola: one among them, young and beautiful, who only arrived in the West Indies a short time ago with her husband, appears to be devoured by an incurable grief." "Indeed! And what can I do to prevent it, father?" "I know not: still, this is what took place between this lady and myself. The lady, who, as I told you, is young and fair, and whose charity and goodness are inexhaustible, spends the greater part of her days in her oratory, kneeling before a picture representing our Lady of Mercy, imploring her with tears and sobs. Interested, in spite of myself, by this so true and so profound grief, I have on several occasions employed the right which my sacred office gives me, to try and penetrate into this ulcerated heart, and obtain from my penitent a confession, which would permit me to give her some consolation." "And I presume that you have not succeeded, father?" "Alas! No, I have not." "Allow me to repeat to you, that, up to the present I do not see in this very sad story, which is to some extent, however, that of most women, anything very interesting to me." "Wait, brother, I am coming to that." "In that case, proceed." "One day, when this lady appeared to me to be more sad than usual, and I redoubled my efforts to induce her to open her heart to me--doubtless overcome by my solicitations, she said these words to me, which I repeat to you exactly:--'My father, I am an unhappy, cowardly, and infamous creature, and a terrible malediction weighs on me. Only one man has the right to know the secret which I try, in vain, to stifle in my heart. Upon this man depends my salvation. He can condemn or acquit me: but whatever be the sentence he may pronounce, I will bow without a murmur beneath his will, too happy to expiate at this price the crime of which I have been guilty.'" While the monk was pronouncing these words, the usually pale face of the adventurer had turned livid, a convulsive trembling agitated his limbs, and, in spite of his efforts to appear calm, he was constrained to lean against one of the tent pickets, lest he should fall on the ground. "Go on!" he said, in a hoarse voice. "Did this woman tell you the man's name?" "She did, brother. 'Alas!' she said to me, 'Unfortunately the man on whom my destiny depends is the most implacable enemy of our nation. He is one of the principal chiefs of those ferocious adventurers who have vowed a merciless war against Spain. I shall never meet him, except in the horrors of a combat, or during the sack of a town fired by his orders. In a word, the man I am speaking to you about is no other than the terrible Montbarts the Exterminator.'" "Ah!" the adventurer muttered, in a choking voice, as he pressed his hand forcibly against his chest, "The woman said that?" "Yes, brother; such are the words she uttered." "And then?" "Then, brother, I, a poor monk, promised her to seek you, to find you, no matter where you were, and repeat her words to you. I had only death to fear in trying to see you, and I long ago offered God the sacrifice of my life." "You have acted like a noble-hearted man, monk; and I thank you for having had confidence in me. Have you nothing to add?" "Yes, brother, I have. When the lady saw me fully resolved to brave all perils for the sake of finding you, she added, 'Go, then, my father: it is doubtless Heaven that takes pity on me, and inspires you at this moment. If you succeed in reaching Montbarts, tell him that I have a secret to confide to him, on which the happiness of his whole life depends; but that he must make haste, if he wish to learn it, for I feel that my days are numbered, and that I shall soon die.' I promised her to accomplish her wishes faithfully, and I have come." There was a silence for some minutes. Montbarts walked up and down with hanging head, and arms folded on his chest, stopping every now and then to stamp his foot savagely: then, resuming his hurried walk, while muttering unconnected words in a low voice. All at once he stopped before the monk, and looked him straight in the face. "You have not told me all," he said to him. "Pardon me, brother; everything, word by word." "Still there is an important detail, which you have doubtless forgotten, as you have passed it over in silence?" "I do not understand to what you are alluding, brother," the monk replied, gravely. "You have forgotten to reveal to me the name and position of this woman, father." "That is true: but it is not forgetfulness on my part. In acting thus, I have obeyed the orders I received. The lady implored me to tell you nothing touching her name or position. She reserves that for herself, when you are alone together: and I swore to keep her secret." "Ah! Ah! Señor monk," the adventurer exclaimed, with a wrath the more terrible because it was concentrated; "You have taken that oath?" "Yes, brother, and will keep it at all risks," he answered firmly. The adventurer burst into a hoarse laugh. "You are doubtless ignorant," he said, in a hissing voice, "that we _ladrones_, as your countrymen call us, possess marvellous secrets to untie the most rebel tongues, and that you are in my power." "I am in the hands of God, brother--try it. I am only a poor defenceless man, incapable of resisting you. Torture me, then, if such be your good pleasure; but know that I will die, without revealing my secret." Montbarts bent a flashing glance on the monk who stood so calm before him; and then, a moment after, struck his forehead angrily. "I am mad!" he exclaimed: "What do I care for this name--do I not know it already? Listen, father. Forgive me what I said to you, for passion blinded me. You came to this island freely, and shall leave it freely--in my turn I swear it to you; and I am not more accustomed to break any oaths I take--no matter their nature--than you are." "I know it, brother. I have nothing to forgive you. I see that grief led you astray, and I pity you, for Heaven has chosen me, I feel a presentiment of it, to bring a great misfortune upon you." "Yes, you speak truly. I did not seek this woman--I tried to forget her, and it is she who voluntarily places herself in my path. It is well, Heaven will judge between her and me. She demands that I will go and see her, and I will do so, but she must only blame herself for the terrible consequences of our interview. Still, I consent to leave her yet one chance of escape. When you return to her, urge her not to try to see me again. You see, that I have a little pity for her in my heart, in spite of all she made me suffer; but if, in spite of your entreaties, she persists in meeting me, in that case her will be done. I will go to the place of meeting she may select." "I know where it is, brother, and am ordered to point it out to you today." "Ah," the filibuster said, suspiciously, "she has forgotten nothing. Well, where is it?" "The lady, you can understand, cannot quit the island, even if she wished to do so." "That is true. So we are to meet in Hispaniola itself?" "Yes, brother." "And what spot has she selected?" "The great Savannah, that separates Mirebalais from San Juan de Goava." "Ah! The spot is famously chosen for an ambuscade," the filibuster said, with a sneering laugh, "for if I remember rightly, it is on Spanish territory." "It forms the extreme limit, brother. Still, I will try to induce the lady to choose another spot, if you are afraid about your safety at this one." Montbarts shrugged his shoulders with a contemptuous laugh. "I afraid!" he said. "Nonsense, monk, you must be mad! What do I care for the Spaniards, if five hundred of them were ambushed to surprise me, I should be able to get away from them! It is settled, then, that if the lady persist in her intention of having an explanation with me, I will go to the Savannah, which extends between Mirebalais and San Juan de Goava, at the confluence of the great river and the Artibonite." "I will do what you desire, brother; but if the lady insist, in spite of my remonstrances and entreaties, on the interview taking place, how am I to warn you?" "As it is possible for you to come here, you will be the better able; without attracting suspicion, to enter the French part of St. Domingo." "I will try, at any rate, brother, since it must absolutely be so." "You will light a large fire on the coast in the vicinity of Port Margot, and I shall know what it means." "I will obey you, brother: but when am I to light the fire?" "How long do you propose remaining here?" "I intend to leave immediately after our interview." "This evening, then?" "Yes, brother." "Ah, ah, then there is a Spanish vessel in the neighbourhood?" "Probably so, brother; but if you discover it and capture it, how shall I succeed in returning to Hispaniola?" "That is true; this consideration saves the Gavachos: but believe, after due reflection, I think it my duty to give you some advice." "Whatever it may be, brother, coming from you, I shall receive it with pleasure." "Well, then, carry out your intention. Start at once; tomorrow it will not be pleasant for you in these waters, and I would not answer for your safety or that of your vessel. Do you comprehend me?" "Perfectly, brother; and for the signal?" "Light it fifteen days from today, and I will arrange so as to arrive at St. Domingo about that time." "Very good, brother." "And now, monk, farewell till we meet again, as it is probable we shall do." "It is probable, indeed, brother. Farewell, and may the merciful Lord be with you!" "So be it," the filibuster said, with an ironical laugh. He gave a parting wave of his hand to the monk, threw his fusil on his shoulder, and went off, but a few minutes after stopped and went back. The Franciscan had remained motionless at the same spot. "One last word, father," he said. "Speak, brother," he answered, gently. "Take my advice, employ all your power over the lady to induce her to give up this meeting, whose consequences may be terrible." "I will try impossibilities to succeed, brother," the monk replied; "I will pray to Heaven to permit me to persuade my penitent." "Yes," Montbarts added, in a gloomy voice, "it would be better for her and for me, perhaps, if we never met again." And roughly turning his back on the monk, he hurried along the track, where he speedily disappeared. When Fray Arsenio felt certain that this time the adventurer had really gone, he gently raised the curtain of the tent and stepped inside. A woman was kneeling there on the bare ground, with her head buried in her hands, and praying with stifled sobs. "Have I punctually accomplished your orders, my daughter?" the monk said. The woman drew herself up and turned her lovely pale and tear-swollen face toward the monk. "Yes, padre," she murmured, in a low and trembling voice. "Bless you for not abandoning me in my distress." "Is this really the man with whom you desire an interview?" "Yes, it is he, father." "And you still insist on seeing him?" She hesitated for a moment, a shudder ran over her whole person, and then she murmured in a hardly intelligible voice-- "I must, father." "You will reflect between this and then, I hope," he continued. "No, no," she said, with a sorrowful shake of the head; "if that man were to plunge his dagger into my heart, I must have a final explanation with him." "Your will be done," he said At this moment, a slight sound was heard outside. The monk went out, but returned almost immediately. "Get ready, madam," he said; "our crew have come to fetch you. Remember the parting advice that _ladrón_ gave me, and let us be gone as soon as possible." Without replying, the lady rose, wrapped herself carefully in her mantilla, and went out. An hour later, she left Nevis, accompanied by Fray Arsenio Mendoza. Montbarts had reached St. Kitts long before. CHAPTER XIX. THE EXPEDITION. During the entire passage from Nevis to St. Kitts Montbarts was in a strange state of excitement. The interview he had held with the monk had rearoused in his heart a profound sorrow which time had deadened but not cauterized, and at the first word that fell in this hour's conversation the wound burst open again, bleeding and livid as on the day of its receipt. How had this woman, whom he would not name, of whose presence in America he was ignorant, whom, in short, he fancied he had escaped by hiding himself among the filibusters, succeeded in so short a time, not only in learning his presence in the islands, but also in finding him again? For what object did she insist on finding him? What interest could she have in seeing him? All these questions, which he asked himself in turn, necessarily remained unanswered, and for that very reason augmented his anxiety. For a moment he thought of laying an ambush in the straits of Nevis and St. Eustache, the two islands between which St. Kitts is situated, capturing the Spanish vessel, and obtaining by torture the information the monk had refused to give him. But he gave up this plan almost immediately; he had pledged his word of honour, and would not break it for anything in the world. In the meanwhile, night had set in, and the canoe was still advancing. Montbarts steered for the lugger, which was anchored a short distance from land. When the light boat was under the vessel's counter, the filibuster made his engagé a sign to lay on his oars, and shouted in a loud voice-- "Lugger, ahoy!" At once, a man whose black outline was designed on the dark blue horizon, leant over. "Boat ahoy!" he shouted. "Is that you, Bowline?" Montbarts continued. "All right." "Is Michael aboard?" "Yes, admiral." "Ah, you have recognised me, my lad?" "Of course," said the Breton. "I suppose you are watching over my prisoner?" "I answer for him." "But do not annoy him unnecessarily." "All right, admiral, we will be gentle with him." "Is Omopoua aboard at this moment?" "Here I am, master," a second voice immediately replied. "Ah, ah," the filibuster said with satisfaction, "all the better. I want you--come ashore." "Are you in a hurry, master?" "A great hurry." "In that case, wait a moment." And ere the filibuster could guess the Carib's intention, the noise of a body falling in the water could be heard, and two or three minutes later the Indian rested his hands on the gunwale of the canoe. "Here I am," he said. Montbarts could not refrain from smiling on seeing with what promptitude the savage obeyed his orders. He held out his hand, and helped him to get into the boat. "Why such a hurry?" he said to him in a tone of friendly reproach. The Indian shook himself like a drowned poodle. "Nonsense," he said, "I am all right." "Have you got the Indian?" Bowline asked. "Yes: now good night; you will see me tomorrow." "Tomorrow?" "Pull," the filibuster said to the engagé. The latter dipped his paddles, and the canoe resumed its course. Ten minutes later, it ran aground at the very spot where Montbarts had seized it for the purpose of going to Nevis. The three men landed on the beach, pulled up the canoe, and went off in the direction of the hatto. They passed through the town and a swarm of filibusters, who were celebrating by songs, shouts, and libations their last hours of liberty. They went on in silence. When the three men reached the hatto, Montbarts lit a candle, and searched the house with the greatest care, to make sure that no stranger was present; then he returned to his two comrades, who were waiting for him in the Esplanade. "Come in," he merely said to them. They followed him. Montbarts sat down in a chair, and then turned to the Carib. "I have to talk with you, Omopoua," he said. "Good," the Indian remarked, joyously; "in that case you have need of me." "If that were true you would be satisfied, then?" "Yes, I should be." "For what reason?" "Because, since I have found a white man who is good and generous, I am anxious to prove to you that all the Caribs are not ferocious and untameable, but know how to be grateful." "I promised you, I think, to take you back to your country?" "Yes, you made me that promise." "Unfortunately, as I am appointed chief of an important expedition, which will probably last some time, it is impossible for me at this moment to take you back to Haiti." The Indian's face grew dark on hearing this. "Do not grieve, but listen to me attentively," the filibuster continued, who had noticed the change that took place in the Indian's face. "I am listening to you." "What I cannot do you are able to effect by yourself, if I supply you with the means." "I do not exactly understand what the white Chief means; I am only a poor Indian, with limited ideas. I require to have things explained to me very clearly before I understand them; but it is true, that when I do understand I never forget." "You are a Carib, hence you know how to manage a canoe?" "Yes," the Indian answered, with a proud smile. "Suppose I gave you a canoe, do you believe that you could fetch Haiti?" "The great land is very far away," he said, in a sorrowful voice, "the voyage very long for a single man, however brave he may be." "Agreed; but suppose I placed in the canoe not only provisions, but cutlasses, axes, daggers, and four fusils, with powder and ball?" "The pale Chief would do that!" he said, with an incredulous air. "Thus armed, who could resist Omopoua?" "Suppose I did more?" the adventurer continued, with a smile. "The Chief is jesting; he is very gay. He says to himself, the Indians are credulous; I will have a laugh at the expense of Omopoua." "I am not jesting, Chief--on the contrary, I am very serious; I will give you the things I have enumerated to you, and, in order that you may reach your country in safety, I will lend you a comrade, a brave man, who will be your brother, and defend you as you would defend yourself." "And that companion?" "Is here," said Montbarts, pointing to his engagé, who was standing calm and motionless by his side. "Then I am not to make the expedition with you, Montbarts?" the latter said, in a sad voice, and with a reproachful accent. "Reassure yourself," said Montbarts, tapping him gently on the shoulder; "the mission I send you on is most confidential, and even more perilous than the expedition I am undertaking. I wanted a devoted man--another self--and I have chosen you." "You have done well, in that case; I will prove to you that you are not mistaken about me." "I am convinced of that already, my lad. Do you accept this companion, Omopoua? He will help you to pass without being insulted through the filibusters you may meet on your route." "Good! The pale Chief really loves Omopoua. What is the Indian to do on arriving in his country?" "Omopoua's brothers have sought shelter, I think, in the neighbourhood of the Artibonite?" "Yes, in the great savannahs to which the French have given the name of Mirebalais." "Good! Omopoua will go and join his friends; he will tell them in what way the filibusters treat the Caribs: he will present his companion to them, and wait." "I will wait: the pale Chief, then, is coming to Haiti?" "Probably," said Montbarts, with a smile of indefinable meaning; "and the proof is, that my engagé will remain with your tribe till my arrival." "Good! I will await the coming of the pale Chief. When am I start?" "This very night. Go down to the beach; go in my name to the owner of the canoe which brought us ashore--here is money," and he gave him several piastres; "tell him that I buy his boat exactly as it stands. You will lay in provisions at the same time, and then wait for your comrade, to whom I have a few words to say--but he will rejoin you soon." "I will go, then; gratitude is in my heart, and not on my lips. On the day when you ask for my life I will give it you, because it is yours, as well as that of all those who love me. Farewell!" And he made a movement to leave the room. "Where are you going?" Montbarts asked him. "I am off; did you not give me leave to go?" "Yes, but you are forgetting something." "What is it?" "The arms I promised you. Take from the rack a fusil for yourself, and four others, which you can dispose of as you please, six cutlasses, six daggers, and six hatchets; when you leave port, on passing the lugger, you will ask Michael the Basque, in my name, for two barrels of gunpowder and two bags of bullets--he will give them to you. Now go, and I wish you all good fortune." The Carib, overcome by this generosity, so simple and so full of grandeur, knelt to the adventurer, and seizing his feet, which he placed on his head, he exclaimed, in a deeply affected voice-- "I pay you homage as to the best of men. I and mine are henceforth and eternally your devoted slaves." He got up, placed on his shoulder the arms which the engagé handed him, and quitted the hatto. For some minutes his footsteps could be heard resounding on the path; but this sound gradually died away, and a complete silence returned. "Now for us two, Olonnais!" Montbarts then said, addressing the engagé. The latter drew nearer. "I am listening, master," he said. "I saw you today for the first time, and yet you pleased me at the very first glance," the adventurer continued. "I fancy myself a tolerable physiognomist. Your frank and open face, your bold-looking eyes, and the expression of audacity and intelligence spread over your features, disposed me in your favour. That is the reason why I bought you. I trust that I am not deceived about you; but I wish to make trial of you. You know that I am at liberty to shorten your engagement, or even, if I like, restore you your freedom tomorrow, so think of that, and act accordingly." "Whether engaged or free I shall always be devoted to you, Montbarts," the Olonnais said, "hence do not speak to me of recompense, for it is useless with me: make your trial, and I hope to emerge from it with honour." "That is speaking like a man and a frank adventurer: listen to me, then, and do not let a word of what you are about to hear escape your lips." "I shall be dumb." "In ten days at the most I shall anchor in Port Margot in St. Domingo; the expedition I command is intended to take Tortoise Isle by surprise; but while we are occupied on our side in surprising the Spaniards, they must not be able to attack us in the rear, and ruin our establishments at Grande Terre." "I understand; Omopoua's Caribs are scattered along the Spanish frontier, and must be converted into allies of the expedition." "The very thing--you have understood me perfectly. Such is your missive; but you must act with extreme cleverness and considerable prudence, in order not to give the alarm to the Gavachos on one hand, or arouse the suspicious of the Caribs on the other; the Indians are susceptible and mistrustful, especially with white men, against whom they have so many causes of complaint. The part you have to play is rather difficult, but I think you will succeed--thanks to the influence of Omopoua; besides, two days after my arrival at Port Margot, I will proceed to the savannahs of the Artibonite, in order to have an understanding, and to make the arrangements I may consider necessary. You see that I act toward you with perfect frankness, and rather as with a brother than an engagé." "I thank you for it; you shall have no cause to repent it." "I am glad to believe it--ah! A final recommendation, of secondary importance, but, for all that, serious." "What is it?" "The Spaniards frequently hunt, or make excursions in the savannahs of the Artibonite; watch them, though without letting them perceive you; let them not have the slightest suspicion of what we are meditating against them, for the least imprudence might have excessively grave consequences for the success of our plans." "I will act with prudence, be assured." "Now, my lad, I have only to wish you a pleasant trip, and successful result." "Will you allow me, in my turn, to ask you a question before departing?" "Speak, I allow it." "For what reason have you, who possess so many brave and devoted friends, instead of applying to one of them, chosen an obscure engagé, whom you hardly know, to confide to him so difficult and so confidential a mission?" "Are you anxious to know?" the adventurer asked, laughingly. "Yes, if you do not consider the question indiscreet." "Not the least in the world, and you shall be satisfied in a couple of words. Apart from the good opinion I have of you, and which is only personal, I have chosen you, because you are only a poor engagé, who arrived from France but two days ago--no one knows you, or is aware that I have purchased you: for this reason no one will dream of suspecting you, and consequently you will be a more valuable agent to me, as no one will imagine that you are my plenipotentiary, and acting under my orders. Now do you understand, my lad?" "Perfectly, and I thank you for the explanation you have given me. Good-bye; within an hour the Carib and I will have left St. Kitts." "Allow him to guide you during the voyage, that man is very clever, though an Indian, and he will conduct you so that you will both reach port in safety." "I shall not fail to do so; besides, the deference I shall show him will dispose him in my favour, and further advance the success of our projects." "Come, come," the adventurer said, with a laugh, "I see that you are a sharp lad, and I now have good hopes of the issue of your mission." The Olonnais armed himself as the Carib had done, then took leave of his master, and went away. "Come," Montbarts muttered, when he was alone, "I believe that my plans are beginning to assume consistency, and that I shall soon be able to deal a grand stroke." The next morning at sunrise an unusual agitation prevailed in the township, which, however, was never very tranquil. The filibusters, armed to the teeth, were taking leave of their friends, and preparing to proceed on board the vessels for which they had enlisted on the previous day. The roads were cut up in all directions by a prodigious number of canoes which passed to and fro, carrying men and provisions to the departing ships. The Chevalier de Fontenay, surrounded by a numerous staff of renowned filibusters, and having at his side Montbarts, David Drake, and Michael the Basque, was standing at the end of the wooden mole that served as a landing place, and witnessing thence the departure of the adventurers. These men with bronzed complexion, energetic and ferocious features, and vigorous limbs, scarce clad in canvas drawers and old hats or caps, but armed with long fusils, manufactured at Dieppe expressly for them, having a heavy sharpened cutlass hanging from their belt, and carrying their stock of powder and bullets, had a strange and singularly formidable appearance, rendered even more striking by the expression of carelessness and indomitable audacity spread over their faces. On seeing them it was easy to understand the terror with which they must inspire the Spaniards, and the incredible exploits they achieved almost as if in play, reckoning their lives as nothing, and only seeing the object, that is to say, plunder. As they defiled before the governor and the officers elected to command them, they saluted them respectfully, because discipline demanded it, but the salute had nothing low or servile about it, it was that of men fully conscious of their value, and aware that though sailors today, they might, as they liked, be captains tomorrow. Towards midday the crews were complete, and only the Admiral and three captains were still ashore. "Gentlemen," Montbarts said to his officers, "so soon as we are out to sea, each of you will sail as you like; we have but a small stock of provisions on board, but the islands we pass will supply us, do not hesitate to pillage the corales of the Gavachos, for that will be so much taken from the enemy. Hence it is settled that we will each proceed separately to the general meeting place, for prudence urges us not to let the enemy suspect our strength; our meeting place is the northern island of the Grand Key; the first to arrive will await the two others, there I will give you my final instructions about the object of the expedition, of which you already know a part." "So then," said M. de Fontenay, "you insist on keeping your secret?" "If you absolutely demand, sir," Montbart replied, "I will--" "No, no," he interrupted him with a laugh; "keep it, for I do not know what to do with it; besides, I have pretty nearly guessed your secret." "Ah," Montbarts said with an air of incredulity. "Confound it, I am greatly mistaken or you mean to make some attempt on St. Domingo." The adventurer only answered by a crafty smile, and took leave of the governor, who rubbed his hands joyously, for he was persuaded that he had guessed the secret which it was attempted to conceal from him. An hour later the three vessels raised their anchors, set sail, and went off after giving a parting salute to the land, which was immediately answered by the battery at the point. They soon became confounded with the white mist on the horizon, and ere long disappeared. "Well," M. de Fontenay said to his officers as he returned to the government house, "you will see that I am not mistaken, and that this demon of a Montbarts really has a design on St. Domingo. Lord help the Spaniards!" CHAPTER XX. THE HATTO. We will leave the filibustering flotilla steering through the inextricable labyrinth of the Antilles, and transport ourselves to St. Domingo, as the French call it, Hispaniola as Columbus christened it, or Haiti as the Caribs, its first and only true owners, called it. And when we speak of the Caribs, we mean the black as well as the red, for it is a singular fact, of which many persons are ignorant, that some Caribs were black, and so thoroughly resembled the African race, that when the French planters settled at St. Vincent, and brought with them Negro slaves, the black Caribs, indignant at resembling men degraded by slavery, and fearful too lest at a later date their color might serve as a pretext to make them endure the same fate, fled into the wildest recesses of the forest, and in order to create a visible distinction between their race and the slaves brought to the island, they compressed the foreheads of their new born infants, so that they became completely flattened, which in the ensuing generation produced, as it were, a new race, and afterwards became the symbol of their independence. Before resuming our narrative, we ask the reader's permission to indulge in a little geography: as many of the incidents of the history of filibustering will take place at St. Domingo; it is indispensable that this island should be well known. St. Domingo, discovered on December 6, 1492, by Christopher Columbus, is, by the general verdict, the most lovely of all the Antilles. From the centre of the island rises a group of mountains, springing one from the other, from which issue three chains, running in three different directions. The longest stretches to the west, and passes through the middle of the island, dividing it into two nearly equal parts. The second chain runs north, and ends at Cape Fou. The third, less extensive than the preceding, at first follows the same direction, but ere long taking a curve to the south, terminates in Cape St. Mark. In the interior of the island there are several other mountain ranges, though much less considerable. The result of this multiplicity of mountains is that communication, especially at the time when our story is laid, was excessively difficult between the north and south of the isle. At the foot of all these mountains are immense plains covered with a luxurious vegetation; the mountains are intersected by ravines, which keep up a constant and beneficent humidity; they contain different metals, in addition to rock crystal, coal, sulphur, and quarries of porphyry, slate and marble, and are covered with forests of bananas, palms and mimosas of every species. Although the rivers are numerous, the largest are unfortunately scarcely navigable, and cannot be ascended by canoes for more than a few leagues; the principal ones are the Neyva, the Macoris, the Usaque, or river of Montecristo, the Ozama, the Juna and the Artibonite, the most extensive of all. Seen from the offing, the appearances of this island is enchanting; it resembles an immense bouquet of flowers rising from the bosom of the sea. We are not going to write the history of the colony of St. Domingo, but will merely say that this island so rich and fertile had, through the carelessness, cruelty and avarice of the Spaniards, fallen, one hundred and fifty years after its discovery, into such a state of wretchedness and misery, that the Spanish Government was compelled to send to this colony, which became not only unproductive but burdensome, funds to pay the troops and officials. While St. Domingo was thus slowly decaying, new colonists, brought by accident, established themselves on the north west of the island, and took possession of it, in spite of the resistance and opposition of the Spaniards. These new colonists were French adventurers, most of them expelled from St. Christopher on the descent of Admiral de Toledo on that colony, and who were wandering about the Antilles in search of a refuge. At the period of the discovery, the first Spaniards had left on the island some forty head of cattle; these animals, restored to liberty, rapidly multiplied and traversed the savannahs of the interior in immense herds; the French adventurers, on their arrival, did not dream of cultivating the soil, but, seduced by the attractions of a perilous chase, they occupied themselves exclusively in pursuing the bulls and the wild boars, which were also very numerous and extremely formidable. The sole occupation of these adventurers then was the chase; they preserved the hides of cattle and dried the meat by smoke in the Indian fashion. Hence comes the name of buccaneers, for the Caribs gave the name of _boucans_ to the spot where they smoked the flesh of the prisoners taken in war, and whom they ate after fattening them. We shall soon have occasion to return to this subject and enter into fuller details about these singular men. Still, in spite of their love of independence, these adventurers had understood the necessity of creating outlets for the sale of their hides. Hence they established several counters at Port Margot and Port de la Paix, which they regarded as the capital of their establishments; but their position was most precarious owing to the proximity of the Spaniards, who had hitherto been sole masters of the island, and would not consent to have them as such near neighbours; hence they constantly waged a savage war, which was the more cruel because quarter was not granted on either side. Such was the situation of St. Domingo at the time when we resume our narrative, about a fortnight after the departure of the filibustering fleet from St. Kitts under the command of Montbarts the Exterminator. The sun, already low on the horizon, was enormously lengthening the shadows of the trees, the evening breeze was rising, gently agitating the leaves and tall grass, when a man mounted on a powerful horse, and wearing the costume of the Spanish Campesinos, followed a scarce traced path which wound through the centre of a vast plain covered with magnificent plantations of sugar cane and coffee, and led to an elegant hatto, whose pretty mirador commanded the country for a long distance. This man appeared to be five and twenty years of age at the most; his features were handsome, but imprinted with an expression of insupportable pride and disdain; his very simple dress was only relieved by a long rapier, whose hilt of carved silver hung on his left hip and showed him to be a gentleman, as the nobility alone had the right to wear a sword. Four black slaves, half naked, and whose bodies glistened with perspiration, ran behind his horse, one carrying a richly damascened fusil, the second a game bag, and the two others a dead boar, whose tied feet were resting on a bamboo supported by the shoulders of the poor fellows. But the rider seemed to trouble himself but little about his companions, or rather his slaves, toward whom he did not deign to turn his head, even when speaking to them, which he did sometimes to ask them for directions in a harsh and contemptuous voice. He held in his band an embroidered handkerchief, with which he wiped away every moment the perspiration that inundated his forehead, and looked savagely around him, while urging his horse with the spur, to the great sorrow of the slaves who were forced to double their efforts to follow him. "Well," he at length asked in an ill-tempered tone, "shall we never arrive at this accursed hatto?" "In half an hour at the furthest, _mi amo_," a Negro answered respectfully, "there is the mirador over there." "What a deuce of a notion it was of my sister, to come and bury herself in this frightful hole instead of remaining quietly at her palace in St. Domingo. Women are mad, on my honour," he grumbled between his teeth. And he spiced this most ungallant observation by furiously digging the spurs into his horse, which started at a gallop. Still, he was rapidly approaching the hatto, all the details of which it was already easy to distinguish. It was a pretty and rather large mansion with a terraced roof, surmounted by a mirador and with a peristyle in front formed by four columns supporting a verandah. A thick hedge surrounded the house, which could only be reached by crossing a large garden; behind were the corrals to shut in the beasts, and the cottages of the Negroes, miserable, low and half ruined huts, built of clumsily intertwined branches and covered with palm leaves. This hatto, tranquil and solitary, in the midst of this plain of luxuriant vegetation, and half concealed by the trees that formed a screen of foliage, had a really enchanting aspect, which, however, did not seem to produce on the traveller's mind any other effect but that of profound weariness and lively annoyance. The arrival of the stranger had doubtless been signalled by the sentry stationed on the mirador to watch the surrounding country, for a horseman emerged at a gallop from the hatto, and came toward the small party composed of the gentleman we have described and the four slaves who still ran behind him, displaying their white, sharp teeth, and blowing like grampuses. The newcomer was a man of short stature, but his wide shoulders and solid limbs denoted far from common muscular strength, he was about forty years of age, his features were harsh and marked, and the expression of his countenance was sombre and crafty. A broad-brimmed straw hat nearly concealed his face, a cloak called a poncho, made of one piece, and with a hole in the middle to pass his head through, covered his shoulders; the hilt of a long knife peeped out of his right boot, a sabre hung on his left side, and a long fusil was lying across the front of his saddle. When he arrived within a few paces of the gentleman, he stopped his horse short on its hind legs, uncovered, and bowed respectfully. "_Santas tardes_, Señor Don Sancho," he said in an obsequious voice. "Ah, ah! It is you, Birbomono," the young man said, as he carelessly touched his hat; "what the deuce are you doing here? I fancied you were hung long ago." "Your Excellency is jesting," the other replied, with an ill-tempered grimace, "I am the Señora's Major-domo." "I compliment her on it, and you, too." "The Señora was very anxious about your Excellency, and I was preparing, by her orders, to make a battue in the neighbourhood. She will be delighted to see you arrive without misadventure." "What misadventure?" the young man said, as he loosened his rein; "What do you mean, scamp? And what had I to fear on the roads?" "Your Excellency cannot be ignorant that the ladrones infest the savannahs." The young man burst into a laugh. "The ladrones! What a pleasant story you are telling me, too; come, run and announce my arrival to my sister, without further chattering." The Major-domo did not let the order be repeated, but bowed, and set off at a gallop. Ten minutes later, Don Sancho dismounted in front of the peristyle of the hatto, where a young lady of rare beauty, but cadaverous pallor, and who appeared hardly able to keep up, as she was so weak and ill, was awaiting his arrival. This lady was the sister of Señor Don Sancho, and the owner of the hatto. The two young people embraced each other for a long while without exchanging a word, and then Don Sancho offered his arm to his sister, and entered the house with her, leaving the Major-domo to look after his horse and baggage. The young gentleman led his sister to an easy chair, fetched one for himself, rolled it up to her side, and sat down. "At last," she said a moment later, in an affectionate voice, as she took one of the young man's hands in her own, "I see you again, brother; you are here, near me--how glad I am to see you." "My dear Clara," Don Sancho replied, as he kissed her forehead, "we have been separated for nearly a year." "Alas!" she murmured. "And during that year many things have doubtless happened, of which you will inform me?" "Alas! My life during this year may be summed up in two words--I have suffered." "Poor sister, how changed you are in so little time, I could hardly recognize you; I came to St. Domingo with such joy, and no sooner had I landed than I went to your palace; your husband, who has not altered, and whom I found as heavy and silent as usual, with an increased dose of importance, doubtless the result of his high position, told me that you were not very well, and that the physicians had ordered you country air." "It is true," she said, with a sad smile. "Yes; but I fancied you merely indisposed, and I find you dying." "Let us not talk of that, Sancho, I implore you; what matter if I am ill? Did you receive my letter?" "Had I not, should I be here? Two hours after its receipt I set out; for three days," he continued with a smile, "I have been going uphill and down dale, along frightful roads, to reach you the sooner." "Thanks, oh thanks, Sancho; your presence renders me very happy--you will remain for a while with me, will you not?" "As long as you like, dear sister, for I am a free man." "Free!" she repeated, looking at him with an air of amazement. "Well, yes; his Excellency, the Duc de Peñaflor, my illustrious father and yours, the Viceroy of New Spain, has deigned to grant me an unlimited leave." At her father's name a slight shudder ran over the young lady's person, and her eyes became dimmed with tears. "Ah," she said, "my father is well?" "Better than ever." "And has he spoken about me?" The young man bit his lips. "He spoke to me about you very little," he said; "but I in revenge, said a good deal about you, which re-established the balance: I even believe that he granted me the leave I asked in great measure to free himself from my chattering." Doña Clara hung her head without replying, and her brother fixed upon her a glance full of tender pity. "Let us talk about yourself," he said. "No, no, Sancho; we had better talk about _him_." she replied hesitatingly. "Of _him!_" he said in a hollow voice, and with a groan; "Alas, poor sister, what can I tell you? All my efforts have been vain; I have discovered nothing." "Yes, yes;" she murmured, "his measures were well taken to make him disappear. Oh, Heaven! Heaven!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands wildly, "Will you not take pity on me?" "Calm yourself, I implore you, sister; I will see, I will seek--I will redouble my efforts, and perhaps I shall at length succeed--" "No," she interrupted him, "never, never shall we be able to effect anything; he is condemned, condemned by my father; that implacable man will never restore him to me! Oh! I know my father better than you do; you are a man, Sancho, you can try to struggle against him, but he has crushed me, crushed me at a single blow; he broke my heart by a deadly pressure in making me the innocent accomplice of an infernal vengeance! Then he coldly reproached me with a dishonour which is his work, and at the same blow eternally destroyed the happiness of three beings who would have loved him, and whose future he held in his hands." "And you, my dear Clara, do you know nothing--have you discovered nothing?" "Yes," she replied, looking at him fixedly, "I have made a horrible discovery." "You terrify me, Clara; what do you mean? Explain yourself." "Not at present, my dear Sancho, not at present, for the time has not arrived; so be patient. You know that I never had any secrets from you, for you alone have always loved me. I wrote to you to come that I might reveal this secret to you: in three days at the latest you shall know all, and then--" "Then?" he said, looking at her intently. "Then you shall measure, as I do, the immense depth of the gulf into which I have fallen; but enough of this subject for the present, I am suffering terribly, so let us talk of something else." "Most willingly, my dear Clara; but what shall we talk about?" "Well, whatever you like, dear, the rain, the fine weather, your journey, or anything of that sort." Don Sancho understood that his sister was suffering from extreme nervous excitement, and that he would aggravate her already very serious condition by not acceding to her wishes; hence he made no objection, but readily yielded to her caprice. "Well then," he said, "my dear Clara, since that is the case, I will take advantage of the opportunity to ask you to give me some information." "What is it brother? I live in great seclusion as you see, and doubt whether I can satisfy you, but speak all the same." "You know, little sister, that I am a stranger in Hispaniola, where I only arrived four days ago, and then for the first time." "That is true; you have never visited the island; what do you think of it?" "It is frightful, that is to say admirable; frightful as regards roads, and admirable for scenery: you see that my proposition is not so illogical as it at first appeared." "In truth the roads are not convenient." "Say that there are none, and you will tell the truth."; "You are severe." "No, I am only just; if you had seen what magnificent roads we possess in Mexico, you would be of my opinion; but that is not the point at present." "What is it then?" "Why, the information I want of you." "Ah, that is true, I forgot it; but explain yourself, I am listening." "This is it. Just imagine when I embarked at Veracruz to come here, all the persons to whom I announced my departure invariably answered me with a desperate agreement:--'Ah! you are going to Hispaniola, Señor Don Sancho de Peñaflor, hum, hum, take care.' On board the vessel I constantly heard the officers muttering among themselves 'keep a good watch, take care.' At last I reached St. Domingo; my first care was, as I told you, to go to the Count de Bejar, your husband, who received me as kindly as he is capable of doing; but when I announced my intention of coming to join you here, he frowned, and his first words were 'the deuce, Don Sancho, you want to go to the hatto, take care, take care.' It was enough to drive me mad; this sinister warning which everywhere and at all hours echoed in my ears infuriated me. I did not try to obtain any explanation from your husband, as I should not have succeeded; but I inwardly resolved to get to the bottom of this ill-omened phrase so soon as the opportunity presented itself. It did present itself soon, but I am no further advanced than I was before, and hence apply to you to solve the riddle." "But I am waiting for your explanation, for I confess that up to the present I have not understood a word you have been saying." "Very good, let me finish. I had scarce set out with the slaves your husband lent me, when I saw the scamps constantly turn their heads to the right and left, with a look of terror. At first I attached no great importance to this; but they ran away on seeing a magnificent wild boar. I felt a fancy to shoot it, which I did by the way, and have brought it here. When these unlucky Negroes saw me cock my fusil they fell at my knees, clasping their hands with terror, and exclaiming in a most lamentable voice,--'Take care, Excellency, take care!' 'What must I take care of, you scoundrels?' I exclaimed in exasperation. 'The _ladrones_, Excellency, the _ladrones_!' I could obtain no other explanation from them but this; but I hope, little sister, that you will be kind enough to tell me who these formidable ladrones are." He bent over her; but Doña Clara, with her eyes widely dilated, her arms stretched out and her features distorted, fixed upon him such an extraordinary look, that he recoiled in horror. "The ladrones, the ladrones!" she twice repeated in a shrill voice; "Oh! have pity, brother." She rose to her full height, advanced a few paces mechanically, and fell fainting on the floor. "What is the meaning of this?" the young man asked himself, as he rushed forward to raise her. CHAPTER XXI. THE MAJOR-DOMO'S STORY. Don Sancho, feeling very anxious about the state in which he saw his sister, hastily summoned her women who at once flocked around her. He confided her to their care, and retired to the apartment prepared for him, while ordering that he should be immediately warned so soon as Doña Clara displayed any signs of recovery. Don Sancho de Peñaflor was a charming cavalier, gay, merry, enjoying life and repulsing with the egotism of his age and rank, every grief and even every annoyance. Belonging to one of the first families of the Spanish aristocracy, destined to be one day immensely rich, and through his name to hold the highest offices and make one of those magnificent marriages of convenience, which render diplomatists so happy, by leaving their minds perfectly free for grand political combinations,--he strove, as far as lay in his power, to check the beating of his heart, and not to trouble by any unusual passion, the bright serenity of his existence. Captain in the army, while awaiting something better, and to have the air of doing something, he had followed his father as aide-de-camp to Mexico, when the latter was appointed viceroy of New Spain. But, being yet too young to regard life seriously and be ambitious, he had turned his attention to gambling and flirtations since his arrival in America, which greatly annoyed the Duke, for as the latter had passed the age of love, he had no mercy for young men sacrificing to the idol which he had himself worshipped for so long. Don Sancho was generally an excellent hearted fellow and good companion, but affected, like all the Spaniards of that period, and perhaps of the present, by caste prejudices, regarding the Negroes and Indians as beasts of burden, created for his use, and disdaining to conceal the contempt and disgust he felt for these disinherited races. In a word, Don Sancho, in accordance with the precept of his family, always looked above him and never below; he endured his equals, but established an impassable barrier of pride and disdain between himself and his inferiors. Still, perhaps unconsciously,--for we will not give him the merit of it,--a tender feeling had glided into the cold atmosphere in which he was condemned to live, had penetrated to his heart, and at times threatened to overthrow all his transcendental theories about egotism. This feeling was nothing else than the affection he felt for his sister,--an affection which might pass for adoration, for it was so truly devoted, respectful and disinterested; to please his sister he would have attempted impossibilities; a simple word that fell from her lips rendered him pliant and obedient as a slave; a desire she manifested became at once an order for him as serious, and perhaps more so, than if it had emanated from the King of Spain and the Indies, although that magnificent potentate haughtily flattered himself that the sun never set on his dominions. The first words the Count uttered so soon as he found himself alone in his apartment, will show his character better than anything we can add. "Well," he exclaimed as he sank despairingly into an easy chair, "instead of passing a few days agreeably here as I expected, I shall be obliged to listen to Clara's complaints and console her; the deuce take unhappy people, it really seems as if they had made agreement to trouble my tranquillity." At the expiration of about three-quarters of an hour, a black slave came to inform him that Doña Clara had regained her senses, but still felt so weak and faint, that she begged him to refrain from seeing her that evening. The young man was in his heart well pleased at the liberty granted him by his sister, and which dispensed him from recurring to a conversation which possessed no charm for him. "Very good," he said to the slave, "give my respects to my sister, and order my supper to be served here; you will at the same time request the Major-domo to come to me as I want to speak to him. Begone!" The slave went out and left him alone. The young Count then threw himself back in his chair, stretched out his legs and plunged, not into any reverie, but into that state of somnolency which is neither waking or sleeping, during which the mind seems to wander in unknown regions, and which the Spaniards call a siesta. While he was in this state, the slaves laid the table, being careful not to disturb him, and covered it with exquisite dishes. But soon the steam of the dishes placed before him recalled the young man to the reality, he drew himself up and seated himself at the table. "Why has not the Major-domo come," he asked, "have you neglected to tell him?" "Pardon, Excellency, but the Major-domo is absent at this moment," a slave respectfully answered. "Absent--for what motive?" "He is paying his usual evening visit to the grounds, but will soon return; if your Excellency will be good enough to have a little patience, you will soon see him." "Very good, although I do not understand the urgency of this visit. There are no wild beasts here, I suppose?" "No, Excellency, thank heaven!" "Then, what is the meaning of these precautions?" "They are meant to guard the house from the attacks of the ladrones, Excellency." "The ladrones again," he exclaimed, bounding from his seat, "why, it must be a wager! Everybody seems to have agreed to mystify me, heaven forgive me." At this moment spurs could be heard clattering outside the room. "Here is the Major-domo, Excellency," one of the Negroes said. "That is lucky, let him come in." Birbomono appeared, took off his hat, bowed respectfully to the Count, and waited to be addressed. "Confound it," the young man said to him, "I asked for you an hour or more ago." "I am in despair at it, Excellency, but I was only told of it this very instant." "I know, I know. Have you dined?" "Not yet, Excellency." "Well then, seat yourself there, opposite to me." The Major-domo who knew the Count's haughty character, hesitated; he did not at all understand the condescension on his part. "Sit down, I say," the young man replied; "we are in the country, so it is of no consequence; besides, I want to talk with you." The Major-domo then took the place pointed out to him, without further pressing. The meal was short--for the Count ate without uttering a single word; when it was ended, he thrust away his plate, drank a glass of water after the Spanish fashion, lit an excellent cigar and gave another to the Major-domo. "Smoke, I permit it," he said. Birbomono gratefully accepted; but feeling more and more astonished, he could not refrain from asking himself mentally, what important motive his young master could have for treating him so condescendingly. When the table was cleared and the slaves had withdrawn, the two men remained alone. The night was magnificent and the atmosphere marvellously clear; a multitude of stars floated in æther, a sweet warm breeze penetrated through the windows, left expressly open, a profound silence lay over the landscape, and from the spot where the two men were seated, they perceived the dark mass of forest trees that closed the horizon. "Now," said the Count, as he puffed out a cloud of bluish smoke, "let us talk." "Very good, Excellency," the Major-domo replied. "I have several things to ask you, Birbomono; you know me, I think, and that whether I threaten or promise, I always carry out what I say?" "I am aware of it, Excellency!" "Very good, that being settled, I will come to the fact without further preamble. I have certain very important information to ask of you; answering my questions is not betraying your mistress, who is my sister, and whom I love before all else; on the contrary, it is perhaps rendering her a service indirectly. Besides, if you refused to tell me what I want to know, I should learn it from another quarter, and you would forfeit any advantage to be derived from your frankness; you understand me, I suppose?" "Perfectly, Excellency." "Well then, what do you intend doing." "My lord, I am devoted body and soul to your family, hence, I shall consider it a duty to answer, as best I can, all the questions you may deign to ask me, for I feel convinced that in questioning me, you have no other motive but that of being agreeable to my mistress." "It is impossible to argue more correctly, Birbomono, I have always said that you were an intelligent man; and this answer proves to me that I was not mistaken. Now, I will begin, but let us proceed regularly, so inform me of what occurred between my sister and her husband, up to her arrival here; and the motives for her quitting St. Domingo." "You know, Excellency, my lord Count de Bejar of Sousa, the husband of your lady sister and my master, is a gentleman not naturally given to speaking, but kind and sincerely attached to his wife, whose every wish he strives to satisfy, without even venturing a remark. At St. Domingo the Countess lived in the most absolute retirement, constantly shut up in her remotest apartments, to which only her women, her confessor and her physician had access. The Count visited her every morning and evening, remained about a quarter of an hour with her, conversing on indifferent subjects, and then withdrew." "Hum! This mode of life of my dear sister appears to me rather monotonous; did it last long?" "For several months, Excellency, and it would doubtless still be going on, had it not been for an event which no one but myself knows, and which induced her to come here." "Ah, ah, and what was the event, if you please?" "I will tell you, Excellency; one day a ship of our nation arrived at St. Domingo; during its passage through the islands, it had been attacked by the ladrones, from whom it had escaped by a miracle, capturing several of them." "Ah! I must stop you here," the Count exclaimed suddenly sitting up; "before going further, one word about these ladrones, of whom persons are incessantly talking, and no one knows. Do you know what they are?" "Certainly I do, Excellency." "At last," the Count added joyously, "I have at length found what I wanted. As you know, I suppose you will tell me?" "Most willingly, Excellency." "Go on." "Oh! It will not be long, Excellency." "All the worse." "But I believe that it will be interesting." "All the better then, make haste." "These ladrones are English and French adventurers, whose courage exceeds all belief; lying in ambush among the rocks in the straits through which our vessels must pass, for they have vowed a war of extermination against our nation, they dart out in wretched canoes half full of water, leap on board the ship they have surprised, capture it and carry it off. The injury done our marine by these ladrones is immense; any ship attacked by them, with but few exceptions, may be regarded as lost." "Confusion! That is very serious; has nothing been done to clear the seas from these daring pirates?" "Pardon me, Excellency; Don Fernando de Toledo, admiral of the fleet, sacked, by the king's orders, the island of St. Christopher, the refuge of the ladrones, carried off all he could seize, and did not leave one stone on the other in the colony they had founded." "Ah, ah!" said the Count, rubbing his hands, "That was well done, it appears to me." "No, Excellency, and for this reason. These ladrones, scattered but not destroyed, spread over the other islands; some of them, it is true, returned to St. Christopher, but the greater part of them had the audacity to seek a refuge in Hispaniola itself." "Yes, but they have been expelled, I hope." "It has been tried, at any rate, Excellency, but without success; since that period they have managed to maintain themselves in the part of the island they invaded, and have resisted all the forces sent against them. Instead of being assailed they have become assailants, and pushed on to the Spanish frontier, burning, plundering and sacking everything they met on their passage; they did this the more easily, because they inspire our soldiers with extreme terror, who as soon as they see them or even hear them, take to flight without looking behind them. This has reached such a pitch, Excellency, that the Count de Bejar, our governor, has been compelled to take their fusils from the detachments called the Fifties, ordered to protect the frontiers, and arm them with lances." "What! Take away their fusils! And for what motive? Great heaven! this seems to me almost too incredible." "Still, it can be easy understood, Excellency--the soldiers feel so great a terror of the ladrones, that when they found themselves in regions frequented by them, and were consequently afraid of meeting them, they discharged their fusils, expressly to warn them of their presence, and thus invite them to retire, which the ladrones never failed to do; and knowing in this way the position of the soldiers, they went off to plunder in another direction, certain of not being disturbed." "It is almost incredible. Do you fear their visit here?" "They have not yet come on this side; still, it is as well to be on one's guard." "I believe so--that is excessively prudent, and I approve of it; but now let us return to the story you were telling me when I interrupted you to give me this valuable information; you were saying that a Spanish man-o'-war had arrived at Saint Domingo, having on board several ladrones as prisoners." "Yes, Excellency. Now, you must know that the ladrones are hung so soon as they are caught." "That measure is very wise." "These were reserved to make an example of on the island itself, and terrify their accomplices; they were, therefore, landed, and placed in Capilla, while awaiting their execution. It was Fray Arsenio who undertook to reconcile the wretches with Heaven if it were possible." "A rude task; but who is Fray Arsenio?" "The confessor of my lady Countess." "Very good; proceed." "Just imagine, Excellency, that these ladrones are very pious men; they never attack a vessel without offering up prayers to Heaven, and sing the Magnificat and other church hymns while boarding; hence Fray Arsenio had no difficulty in making them perform their religious duties. The Governor had decided that, in order that the example should benefit the rest, these ladrones should be hung on the Spanish frontier; they were, therefore, taken out of prison, securely bound, and traversed the town in carts, guarded by a numerous escort, and passing through the crowds, who overwhelmed them with maledictions and cries of anger and threatening. But the ladrones seemed to pay no attention to this manifestation of the public hatred; they were five in number, young, and apparently very powerful. All at once, at the moment when the carts, which were going very slowly, owing to the crowd, arrived in front of the Governor's palace, the ladrones rose altogether, uttered a loud cry, and, leaping into the street, took refuge in the palace, whose guard they disarmed, and closed the gates after them; they had succeeded in cutting their bonds, no one knew how. There was at first a moment of profound stupor among the crowd on seeing such a desperate deed, but ere long the soldiers regained their courage, and marched boldly on the palace, where the ladrones received them with musket shots. The fight was bravely carried on on both sides, but all the disadvantage was on the side of our men, who were exposed to the shots of invisible enemies, and renowned marksmen, every shot from whom brought down a victim. Some twenty dead, and as many wounded, were already lying on the square; the soldiers hesitated to continue this deadly contest, when the Governor, warned of what was going on, came up at full speed, followed by his officers. Fortunately for him, the Count was not at home when the ladrones seized his palace; but the Countess was there, and the Count trembled lest she should fall into the hands of these villains. He summoned them to surrender; they only replied by a discharge, which killed several persons by the Governor's side, and slightly wounded himself." "The daring villains!" the Count muttered--"I hope they were hung." "No, Excellency; after holding all the forces of the town in check for two hours, they proposed a capitulation, which was accepted." "What!" the Count exclaimed, "Accepted! Oh! This is too much." "It is the exact truth, however, Excellency; they threatened, unless they were allowed to retire in peace, to blow themselves up with the palace, which would have entailed the general ruin of the town, and to cut the throats of the prisoners in their power--that of the Countess first of all; the Governor tore out his hair with rage, but they only laughed." "Why they are not men!" the Count exclaimed, stamping his foot passionately. "No, Excellency, I told you, they are demons. The Count's officers persuaded him to accept the capitulation; the bandits insisted that the streets should be cleared for their passage; they had horses brought for them, and two for the Countess and one of her servants, whom they retained as hostages till they were in safety; and they went out well armed, leading in their midst my poor mistress, trembling with terror, and more dead, than alive. The ladrones did not hurry, they went at a foot pace, laughing and talking together, turning round, and even stopping now and then to stare at the crowd, which followed them at a respectful distance. They left the town in this way, but religiously kept their promise; two hours later, my lady the Countess, to whom they had behaved with great courtesy, returned to Saint Domingo, accompanied to the palace by the acclamations and glad shouts of the populace, who fancied her lost. The next day the Count ordered me to accompany the Countess here, where the physicians recommended her to live for a while, in order to rest from the terrible emotions she had doubtless experienced while she was in the power of the bandits." "And since your installation at the hatto I presume nothing extraordinary has occurred?" "Yes, Excellency, something has happened, and that is why I told you at the beginning that I alone knew the event which had modified my mistress's mode of living. One of the ladrones had a very long interview with her before they left her, an interview I saw, too far off to hear what was said, it is true, but near enough to judge of the interest she felt in it, and the impression it produced on her, for I had followed my mistress, resolved not to abandon her, and help her, were it necessary, at the risk of my life." "That is the behaviour of a good servant, Birbomono, and I thank you for it." "I only did my duty, Excellency; so soon as the ladrones left her alone I approached my mistress, and escorted her back to the town. A few days after our arrival here my mistress dressed herself in man's clothes, left the hatto unseen, only followed by myself and Fray Arsenio, who had refused to leave her, and led us to a secluded bay on the coast, where one of the ladrones was awaiting us. This man had another long conversation with my mistress, then, bidding us get into a canoe, he took us to a Spanish brigantine, tacking in sight of the coast. I afterwards learnt that this brigantine had been freighted by Fray Arsenio by my mistress's orders. So soon as we were on board this vessel, sail was set, and we put out to sea; the _ladrón_ had returned ashore in the canoe." "Nonsense!" the young man violently interjected; "What fables are you telling me, Birbomono?" "Excellency, I am only telling you the truth you asked of me, without adding or omitting anything." "Well, I am willing to believe you, incredible though the whole affair appears." "Shall I break off here, Excellency, or continue my narration?" "Go on, in the Fiend's name! Perhaps some light will eventually issue from all this chaos." "Our brigantine began tacking between the islands, at a great risk of being snapped up as it passed by the ladrones; but, through some incomprehensible miracle, it succeeded in passing unseen, so that in eight days it reached an island in the form of a mountain, called Nevis, I believe, and only separated by a narrow channel from St. Kitts." "But, from what you told me yourself, St, Christopher is the den of the ladrones." "Yes, Excellency, and so it is; the brigantine did not anchor, it merely backed sails, and lowered a boat. My mistress, the monk, and I, got into it, and we were landed on the island; but, as she put her little foot on land, the Countess turned to me, and fixing on me a glance which nailed me to the boat I was on the point of leaving, she said--'Here is a letter, which you will carry to St. Christopher, there you will inquire for a celebrated Chief of the ladrones, whose name is Montbarts: you will have him pointed out to you; follow him, and place this letter in his own hands. Go, I count on your fidelity.' What could I do? Only obey: you will agree with me, Excellency. The sailors in the boat, as if warned beforehand, conveyed me to St. Christopher, where I landed unseen: I was lucky enough to meet this Montbarts, and hand him the letter, and then I slipped away; the boat which had been waiting for me took me back to Nevis, and the Señora thanked me. At sunset Montbarts arrived at Nevis; he talked for nearly an hour with the monk, while Doña Clara was concealed in a tent, and then went away: a few minutes later, the Countess and Fray Arsenio returned aboard the brigantine, which conveyed us back to Hispaniola with the same good fortune. The monk remained in the French part of the island, for some reason I do not know, while my mistress and I, as soon as we landed, returned to the hatto, where we arrived just ten days ago." "And then?" the Count asked, seeing that the Major-domo was silent. "That is all, Excellency," he answered; "since then Doña Clara has remained shut up in her apartments, and nothing has happened to trouble the monotony of our existence." The Count rose without replying, walked up and down the room in considerable agitation, and then turned to Birbomono. "Very good, Major-domo," he said to him--"I thank you; keep your mouth shut about this, and now you can retire. Remember, that no one in the household must suspect the importance of the conversation we have had together." "I shall be dumb, Excellency," the Major-domo answered, and retired with a respectful bow. "It is evident," the young man muttered, so soon as he was alone, "that there is at the bottom of this affair a frightful secret, of which my sister in all probability will condemn me to take my share. I am afraid that I have fallen into a trap. Hang it all! Why could not Clara let me live at my ease in Saint Domingo?" CHAPTER XXII. ACROSS COUNTRY. On the morrow, Doña Clara appeared, if not completely recovered from her previous emotion, at least in a far more satisfactory state of health than her brother had dared to hope after the fainting fit of which he had been witness. No allusion was made, however, by one or the other to the previous evening's conversation. Doña Clara, although very pale, and excessively weak, affected gaiety and even merriment; she carried matters so far as even to take a short walk in the garden, leaning on her brother's arm. But the latter was not deceived by this conduct; he understood that his sister, vexed at having talked to him too frankly, was trying to lead him astray as to her condition, by affecting a gaiety far from her heart. Still, he did not let anything be seen, and when the great heat of the day had passed, he pretended a desire to visit the surrounding country, in order to give his sister a little liberty: taking his fusil, he mounted his horse, and rode out, accompanied by the Major-domo, who offered to act as his guide during his excursion. Doña Clara made but a faint effort to keep him at home; in her heart she was pleased to be alone for a few hours. The young man galloped across country with a feverish impatience. He was in a state of excitement, for which he could not account to himself; in spite of his egotism, he felt himself interested in his sister's misfortune; so much humble resignation involuntarily affected him, and he would have been happy to infuse a little joy into this heart crushed by grief; on the other hand, the Major-domo's singular story incessantly returned to his mind, and aroused his curiosity in the highest degree. Still he would not for anything in the world have questioned his sister about the obscure parts of this narrative, or merely let her know that he was aware of her relations with the filibusters of St. Kitts. The two men had entered the savannah territory, and talking of indifferent topics; but as the Count could not get rid of the recollection of what the Major-domo had told him, he turned sharply toward him at a certain moment. "By the way," he asked him sharply, "I have not yet seen my sister's confessor. How do you call him?" "Fray Arsenio, Excellency; he is a Franciscan monk." "Yes, that's it, Fray Arsenio. Well, why does he persist in remaining invisible?" "For an excellent reason, Excellency; the reason I had the honour of explaining to you last evening." "That is possible--I do not say you did not; but everything is so confused in my mind," he said, with feigned indifference, "that I no longer remember what you told me on the subject; you will therefore oblige me by repeating it." "That is easy, Excellency. Fray Arsenio left us at the moment when we landed, and has not reappeared at the hatto since." "That is singular: and does not Doña Clara appear alarmed and vexed at so long an absence?" "Not at all, Excellency; the señora never speaks of Fray Arsenio, and does not inquire whether he has returned or not." "It is strange," the young man muttered to himself; "what is the meaning of this mysterious absence?" After this aside, the Count suddenly broke off the conversation and resumed the chase. They had been absent from the hatto for some hours, and had insensibly gone a very considerable distance; the sun was nearing the horizon, and the Count was preparing to turn back, when suddenly a great noise of breaking branches was heard at the skirt of the forest, from which they were only separated by a few shrubs, and several wild oxen dashed on to the savannah, pursued, or, to speak more correctly, hunted, by a dozen hounds, which barked furiously while snapping at them. The oxen, seven or eight in number, passed like a tornado two horse lengths from the Count, to whom this unexpected apparition caused such a surprise, that he remained for a moment motionless, not knowing what to do. The savage animals, still harassed by the hounds, which did not leave them, made a sudden wheel, and turning back, seemed trying to enter the forest at the spot where they had left it; but they had hardly resumed their flight in that direction, when a fusil was discharged, and a bull, struck in the head, fell dead on the ground. At the same instant a man emerged in his turn from the forest, and walked up to the animal, which was lying motionless and nearly hidden in the tall grass, without appearing to notice the two Spaniards, and reloading as he walked along the long fusil he had, in all probability, just employed so adroitly. This hunting episode was accomplished more quickly than it has taken us to describe it, so that Don Sancho had not quite recovered from his surprise, when the Major-domo bent down to his side and said in a low voice, half choked with terror-- "Excellency, you wanted to see a _ladrón_. Well, look carefully at that man, he is one." Don Sancho was endowed with undaunted courage. When his first surprise had passed, he became again completely master of himself, and regained all his coolness. After securing his seat on the saddle, he advanced slowly toward the stranger, while examining him curiously. He was a man still young, of middle height, but well and powerfully built; his regular, majestic, and rather handsome features displayed boldness and intelligence. Cold, heat, rain, and sunshine to which he had doubtless for a long time been exposed, had given his face a decided bistre hue; and although he wore his full beard, it was cut rather short. His dress, of almost primitive simplicity, so to speak, was composed of two shirts, breeches, and jacket, all of canvas, but so covered with spots of blood and grease, that it was impossible to recognise its original colour. He wore a leathern belt, from which hung on one side a case of crocodile skin, containing four knives and a bayonet; on the other, a large calabash, stopped with wax, and a hide bag containing bullets. He wore across his shoulders a small coat of fine canvas, rolled up and reduced to its smallest compass; and in lieu of shoes, boots made of untanned oxhide. His long hair, fastened with a _víbora_ skin, escaped from under a fur cap which covered his head, and was protected by a peak in front. His fusil, whose barrel was four and a half feet in length, could be easily recognized through the strange form of its stock, as turned out by Brachie, of Dieppe, who with Gélin, of Nantes, had the monopoly of manufacturing arms for the adventurers. This fusil was of the calibre of sixteen to the pound. The appearance of this man, thus armed and accoutred, had really something imposing and formidable about it. You instinctively felt yourself in face of a powerful nature, of a chosen organization, accustomed only to reckon on oneself, and which no danger was great enough to astound or even affect. While continuing to advance toward the bull, he took a side glance at the two horsemen; then, without paying any further attention to them, he whistled to his dogs, which at once gave up their pursuit of the herd, and after drawing a knife from his sheath, he began skinning the animal lying at his feet. At this moment the Count came up to his side. "Eh," he said to him in a sharp voice, "who are you, and what do you here?" The buccaneer, for he was one, raised his head, looked sarcastically at the man who addressed him so peremptorily, and then shrugged his shoulders with disdain. "Who I am?" he replied, mockingly; "You see that I am a buccaneer, and what I am doing. I am flaying a bull I have slain. What next?" "I want to know by what right you hunt on my land?" "Ah! This land is yours? I am very glad to hear it. Well, I am hunting here because I think proper. If that does not suit you, I feel sorry for it, my pretty gentleman." "What do you mean?" the Count continued, haughtily; "And how do you dare to assume such a tone with me?" "Probably, because it is the one that suits me best," the buccaneer replied, drawing himself up quickly; "go your road, my fine sir, and take some good advice; if you do not wish your handsome jerkin to be filled with broken bones within five minutes, do not trouble yourself about me more than I do about you, and leave me to attend to my business." "I will not allow it," the young man answered, violently; "the land you are trespassing on so impertinently belongs to my sister, Doña Clara de Bejar; I will not suffer it to be invaded with impunity by vagabonds of your description. _¡Viva Dios!_ You will decamp at once, my master, or, if not--" "If not?" the buccaneer asked, with eyes flashing fire, while the Major-domo, foreseeing a catastrophe, prudently glided behind his master. As for the latter, he stood cool and impassive before the buccaneer, resolved to take the offensive vigorously, if he saw him make the slightest suspicious gesture. But, contrary to all expectation, the adventurer's menacing look became almost suddenly calm, his features resumed their usual expression of nonchalance; and it was in an almost friendly tone, in spite of its roughness, that he said-- "Halloh! What name was that you mentioned, if you please?" "That of the owner of this savannah." "I suppose so," the adventurer replied, laughing; "but may I ask you to repeat the name?" "That is of no consequence, my master," the young man said disdainfully, for he fancied that his adversary was backing out of the quarrel; "the name I uttered is that of Doña Clara de Bejar of Sousa." "Et cetera," the buccaneer said, with a laugh, "these devils of gavachos have names for every day in the year. Come, don't be angry, my young cock," he added, remarking the flush which the expression he had employed spread over the Count's face; "we are, perhaps, nearer an understanding than you imagine--what would you gain by a fight with me? Nothing; and you might, on the contrary, lose a great deal." "I do not understand your words," the young man answered drily, "but I hope you are about to explain them." "It will not take long, as you shall see," the other said tauntingly, and, turning to the forest, he raised his hands to his mouth in the shape of a speaking trumpet. "Eh! L'Olonnais!" he shouted. "Hola!" a man immediately answered, whom the denseness of the forest in which he was hidden rendered invisible. "Come here, my son," the buccaneer continued, "I believe we have found your little matter." "Ah, ah!" L'Olonnais, still invisible, replied, "I must have a look at it." The young Count did not know what to think of this new incident which seemed about to change the state of affairs; he feared a coarse jest on the part of these half-savage men. He hesitated between giving way to the passion that was boiling within him, or patiently awaiting the result of the buccaneer's summons; but a secret foreboding urged him to restrain himself and act prudently with these men, who did not appear animated by an evil design against him, and whose manners, though quick and rough, were still friendly. At this moment L'Olonnais appeared; he wore the same dress as the buccaneer: he advanced hurriedly toward the latter, and without troubling himself about the two Spaniards, asked him what he wanted, while throwing on the ground a wild bull's hide, which he was carrying on his shoulders. "Did you not tell me something about a letter which Bowline sent you this morning by the hands of Omopoua?" "It is true, Lepoletais. I spoke to you about it," he said, "and it was settled between us that as you know the country, you were to lead me to the person to whom I have to deliver this accursed slip of paper." "Well, then, my son, if you like, your commission is performed," Lepoletais continued, as he pointed to Don Sancho, "he is the brother, or at least calls himself so, of the person in question." "Stuff," L'Olonnais replied, fixing alight glance on the young man, "that gay springald?" "Yes, he says so; for as you know, the Spaniards are such liars, that it is not possible even to trust to their word." Don Sancho blushed with indignation. "Who gave you the right to doubt mine?" he exclaimed. "Nothing has done so up to the present, hence I am not addressing myself to you, but speaking generally." "So," L'Olonnais asked him, "you are the brother of Doña Clara de Bejar, the mistress of the hatto del Rincón?" "Once again, yes, I am her brother." "Good! And how will you prove it to me?" The young man shrugged his shoulders. "What do I care whether you believe me or not?" he said. "That is possible, but it is of great consequence to me to be certain of the fact; I am entrusted with a letter for that lady, and wish to perform my commission properly." "In that case hand me the letter, and I will deliver it myself." "You found that out all by yourself," the engagé said mockingly, "a likely notion that I should give you the note on your demand," and he burst into a hearty laugh, in which Lepoletais joined. "These Spaniards doubt nothing," the buccaneer said. "In that case go to the deuce, you and your letter," the young man exclaimed passionately, "it does not make any difference to me if you keep it." "Come, come, don't be savage, hang it all," L'Olonnais continued in a conciliatory tone; "there is possibly a means of arranging matters to the general satisfaction; I am not so black as I look, and I have good intentions, but I do not wish to be duped, that is all." The young man, in spite of the visible repugnance with which the adventurers inspired him did not dare to break suddenly with them; the letter might be very important, and his sister, doubtless would not pardon him if he acted petulantly in this matter. "Come," he said, "speak, but make haste; it is late--I am far from the hatto, where I wish to return before sunset, so as not to alarm my sister unnecessarily." "That is the conduct of a good brother," the engagé answered with an ironical smile; "this is what I propose to you: tell the little lady in question that Montbart's engagé has orders to deliver a letter to her, and that if she wishes to have it, she need only come and fetch it." "What! Fetch it, where?" "Here; zounds! Lepoletais and I will set up a boucan at this spot; we will wait for the lady all tomorrow here: it seems to me that what I propose is simple and easy." "And do you believe," he answered ironically, "that my sister will consent to accept such an appointment made by a wretched adventurer? why, you must be mad!" "I do not believe anything, I make you a proposal, which you are free to accept or refuse, that is all: as for the letter, she shall only have it by coming to fetch it herself." "Why not accompany me to the hatto, that would be more simple, I fancy?" "It is possible, and that was my intention at first, but I have changed my mind; so settle what you will do." "My sister respects herself too much to take such a step, I am certain beforehand that she will indignantly refuse." "Well, you may be mistaken, my friend," the engagé said, with a knowing smile, "who ever knows what women think!" "Well, to cut short an interview which has already lasted too long, I will inform her of what you have said to me; still, I do not conceal from you that I shall make every effort to prevent her coming." "You can do as you please, it does not concern me; but be assured that if it be her wish to come, as I believe, your arguments will be of no use." "We shall see." "Mind not to forget to tell her that the letter is from Montbarts." During this conversation, which possessed no interest for him, Lepoletais, with the characteristic coolness and carelessness of buccaneers, was engaged in cutting down branches, and planting stakes to make the _ajoupa_ under which they would camp for the night. "You see," the engagé added, "that my comrade has already set to work; so good-bye till tomorrow, as I have no time for further talk, I must help to prepare the boucan." "Do as you please, but I am persuaded that you are wrong in reckoning on the success of the commission I have undertaken." "Well, you will see; at any rate mention it to the Señora. Ah! By the way, one word more, mind, no treachery." The young man did not condescend a reply: he shrugged his shoulders disdainfully, leaped on his horse, and galloped off in the direction of the hatto, closely followed by the Major-domo. On getting some distance away, he looked back: the ajoupa was already finished, and, as L'Olonnais had said, the two buccaneers were busily engaged in establishing their boucan, without paying any more attention to the Spaniards, who were doubtless prowling about the neighbourhood, than if they had been five hundred leagues from any habitation. Then he continued to advance thoughtfully in the direction of the hatto. "Well, Excellency," the Major-domo said presently, "you have seen the ladrones, what do you think of them now?" "They are rough men," he said, shaking his head sadly, "possessing brutal and indomitable natures, but relatively frank and honest, at least from their point of view." "Yes, yes, you are right, Excellency; and thus they gain more ground every day, and if they were left alone, I am afraid that the whole island would soon belong to them." "Oh, we have not reached that point yet," he said with a smile. "Pardon me, Excellency, for asking you the question, but do you intend to inform the Señora of this meeting?" "I should like not to do so; unfortunately, after what you had told me of the things that have taken place between my sister and these men, my silence might have very serious consequences for her. Hence it is better, I believe, to tell her frankly all about it, and she will be a better judge than I of the line of conduct she should pursue." "I believe you are right, Excellency. The Señora has perhaps a great interest in knowing the contents of that letter." "Well, let us trust in Heaven!" It was an hour past nightfall when they reached the hatto. They noticed with surprise an unusual movement round the house. Several fires lighted on the plain illumined the darkness. On approaching, the Count perceived that these fires were lit by soldiers, who had established their bivouac there. A confidential servant was watching for the Count's arrival. So soon as he saw him, he handed him several letters that had arrived for him, and begged him to go at once to the Señora, who was impatiently expecting him. "What is there new here?" he asked. "Two fifties arrived at sunset, Excellency," the servant answered. "Ah!" he remarked, with a slight frown. "Very good. Inform my sister that I shall be with her in an instant." The domestic bowed and retired. The young gentleman dismounted, and went to the apartments of Doña Clara, considerably puzzled by the unforeseen arrival of these troops at a spot which apparently enjoyed great tranquillity, and where their presence was unnecessary. CHAPTER XXIII. COMPLICATIONS. We must now return to one of our characters, who up to the present has played but a secondary part in this story; but, as frequently happens, is now called on by the exigencies of our narrative to take his place in the foreground. We refer to Count Don Stenio de Bejar y Sousa, grandee of Spain of the first class, _caballero cubierto_, governor for His Majesty Philip II. of Spain and the Indies, of the island of Hispaniola, and husband of Doña Clara de Peñaflor. Count Don Stenio de Bejar was a true Spaniard of the age of Charles V., dry, stiff, full of pride and self-sufficiency, always with his hand on his hip, and his head thrown back when he deigned to speak, which, happened to him as rarely as possible, not through any want of sense, as he was far from being a fool; but through indolence and contempt of other men, whom he never looked at without half closing his eyes, and raising the corners of his lips disdainfully. Tall, well built, possessed of noble manners, and a very handsome face, the Count, apart from his determined silence, was one of the most accomplished cavaliers of the Spanish court, which, however, at that period, possessed a great number of them. His marriage with Doña Clara had been at the outset an affair of convenience and ambition, but gradually, through admiring the charming face of the woman he had married, seeing her gentle eyes fixed on him, and hearing her melodious voice resound in his ear, he had grown to love her--love her madly. Like all men accustomed to shut up and concentrate in their hearts the feelings that possessed them, the passion he experienced for Doña Clara had acquired proportions the more formidable, because the unhappy man had the desperate conviction that it would never be shared by the woman who was the object of it. All Don Stenio's advances had been so peremptorily rejected by his wife, that he at last made up his mind to abstain from them. But, like all disappointed lovers, this gentleman, who was at the same time the husband--a very aggravating fact in the species, was naturally too infatuated with his own merit, to attribute his defeat to himself, and hence had looked around to discover the fortunate rival who had robbed him of his wife's heart. Naturally the Count had not succeeded in finding this fancied rival, who only existed in his own imagination, and this had grown into a jealousy, the more ferocious because, as it did not know whom to settle on, it attacked everybody. The Count was jealous, then, not like a Spaniard, for the Spaniards generally, whatever may be said to the contrary, are not affected by that stupid malady, but like an Italian; and this jealousy made him suffer the more, because, like his love, he was unable to show it; through fear of ridicule, he was compelled to lock it up carefully in his heart. When, owing to his protection--as had been arranged on his marriage with Doña Clara, of whose previous union with the Count de Barmont he was ignorant--his father-in-law, the Duc de Peñaflor, was appointed viceroy of New Spain, and himself obtained the government of Hispaniola, the Count experienced a feeling of indescribable joy, and an immense comfort inundated his mind. He was persuaded that in America, his wife, separated from her friends and relatives, forced, to live alone, and consequently to undergo his influence, would be driven through weariness and want of something better to do, to share his love, or at least accept it: and then again, on the islands there was no rivalry to fear among a half savage population entirely absorbed by a passion far more powerful than love--a passion for money. Alas! This time too, he was deceived. Doña Clara, it is true, gave him no more pretext for jealousy than she had done in Spain, but he did not any the more succeed in winning her affections. From the first day of her arrival at Saint Domingo, she manifested the desire to live alone and in retirement, engaged in religious practices; and the Count was constrained, in spite of his fury, to bow before a resolution which he recognised as irrevocable. He resigned himself; his jealousy however was not extinct, it was smouldering beneath the ashes, and a spark would suffice to make it burst into a more terrible flame than before. Still, in spite of this slight annoyance, the life the Count led at Saint Domingo was most agreeable; in the first place he ruled there in his quality of governor, saw everybody bend beneath his will, always excepting his wife, the only one perhaps he would have cared to reduce. He had his flatterers, and played the master and suzerain over all who surrounded him; moreover, a thing not to be at all despised, his position as governor secured certain imposts that rapidly augmented his fortune, which various youthful follies had considerably reduced, and he now worked hard, not only to repair the breaches, but to render them as if they had never been. By degrees, however, the Count succeeded in lulling, if not subduing, his love; he employed one passion to uproot the other; the care of augmenting his fortune made him endure patiently the calculated indifference of the Countess. He had almost come himself to believe that he only felt for her a frank and sincere friendship; the more so because Doña Clara for her part, was charming in everything that did not touch on her husband's passion for her; she took an interest, or at least pretended to do so, in the commercial speculations which the Count did not hesitate to engage in under suppositious names, and at times she would give him, with that clear judgment so eminently possessed by women whose heart is free, excellent advice on very difficult points, by which the Count profited, and naturally took all the glory. Things were in this state when the episode with the filibusters occurred, which the Major-domo described to Don Sancho de Peñaflor. This mad struggle of five men against an entire town, a struggle from which they emerged victorious, had caused the Count a rage all the greater, because the filibusters, on leaving the town, had taken the Countess off with them as a hostage. He had then understood how greatly he erred, in supposing that his love and jealousy were extinguished. During the two hours that the Countess remained absent, the Count suffered a horrible torture, the more horrible because the rage he felt was impotent, and vengeance impossible, at least for the present. Hence, from this moment, the Count vowed an implacable hatred against the adventurers, and swore to carry on a merciless war against them. The return of the Countess safe and sound, and treated with the greatest respect by the adventurers, during the time she remained in their power, calmed the Count's wrath from a marital point of view, but the insult he had received in his quality as governor, was too grave for him to renounce his vengeance. From this moment the most formal orders were sent to the leaders of corps to redouble their surveillance, and chase the adventurers, wherever they met them; fresh Fifties, formed of resolute men, were organized, and the few adventurers they contrived to catch, were mercilessly hung. Tranquillity was re-established in the colonies, the confidence of the colonists, momentarily disturbed, reappeared, and everything apparently returned to its accustomed state. The Countess had expressed a desire to restore her health by a stay of several weeks at the hatto del Rincón, and the Count, to whom her physician had expressed this wish, found it only very natural; he had seen his wife go away with an easy mind, for he was convinced that at the spot whither she was going, she would have no danger to fear, and felt persuaded in his heart that this condescension on his part, would be appreciated by the Countess, and that she would feel thankful to him for it. She had left therefore, only accompanied by a few servants and confidential slaves, delighted to escape for some time from the restraint she was obliged to impose on herself at Saint Domingo, and fostering the bold scheme which we have seen her carry out so successfully. It was about an hour after the departure of Don Sancho de Peñaflor, to go and join his sister at the hatto; the Count was finishing his breakfast, and preparing to retire to the inner boudoir to enjoy his siesta, when an usher came into the dining room, and after apologizing for disturbing His Excellency at this moment, informed him that a man who refused to give his name, but declared that he was well known to the governor, insisted on being introduced into his presence, as he had most important communications to make to him. The moment was badly chosen to ask for an audience, as the Count felt inclined to sleep; he answered the usher that, however important the stranger's communications might be, he did not believe them of such importance that he should sacrifice his siesta for them; he therefore Sent a message to the effect that the governor would not be at liberty till four in the afternoon, and if the stranger liked to return then he would be received. The Count dismissed the usher, and rose, muttering to himself as he walked towards the boudoir,-- "_Dios me salve_, if I were to believe all these scamps, I should not have a moment's rest." Whereupon he stretched himself in a large hammock, hung right across the room, closed his eyes and fell asleep. The Count's siesta lasted three hours, and this delay was the cause of serious complications. On waking, Don Stenio quite forgot all about the stranger; it so often happened that he was disturbed for nothing by people who declared they had urgent matters to discuss with him, that he did not attach the slightest importance to their requests for an audience, and the usher's words had completely slipped his memory. At the time when he entered the room where he usually granted his audiences, and which at this moment was quite empty, the usher presented himself again. "What do you want?" he asked him. "Excellency," the usher replied with a respectful bow, "the man has returned." "What man?" "The man who came this morning." "Oh yes, well, what does he want?" the Count continued, who did not know what all this was about. "He desires, my lord, that you will do him the honour of receiving him, as he states that he has matters of the utmost gravity to tell you." "Ah, very good, I remember now; it is the same man you announced this morning." "Yes, Excellency, the same." "And what is his name?" "He will only tell it to your Excellency." "Hum! I do not like such precautions, for they never forbode anything good; listen, José! When he arrives, tell him I never receive people who insist on keeping their incognito." "But he is here, my lord." "Ah! well then, it will be all the more easy, tell him so at once." And he turned his back. The usher bowed and left the room, but returned almost immediately. "Well! Have you sent him away?" the Count asked. "No, my lord, he gave me this card requesting me to hand it your Excellency. He declares that, in default of his name, it will be sufficient to secure his admission to your presence." "Oh! Oh!" said the Count, "That is curious, let me see this famous talisman." He took the card from the usher's hand and looked at it absently; but all at once he started, frowned and said to the usher, "Show the man into the yellow room, let him wait for me there, I will be with him in a moment. The deuce," he muttered to himself when he was alone, "it is a long time since this scoundrel let me hear anything of him, I fancied him hung or drowned; he is a clever scamp, can he really have any important information to give me? We shall see." Then, leaving the room in which he was, he hastened to the yellow saloon where the man with the card already was. On seeing the governor, the latter hastily rose, and made him a respectful bow. The Count turned to the valet who had followed him to open the doors. "I am not at home to anybody," he said; "you can go." The valet left the room, and shut the door after him. "Now for us two," the Count said, as he sank into his chair, and pointed to another. "I am awaiting your lordship's orders," the stranger said respectfully. Don Stenio remained for a moment silent, and scratching his forehead. "You have been away for a very long time," he said at last, "well, what has become of you during the last two months?" "I have been executing your Excellency's orders," the man answered. "My orders? I do not remember having given you any." "Pardon me, my lord, if I venture to remind you of certain facts, which appear to have escaped your memory." "Do so, my good fellow, I shall be delighted at it; still, I would remark that my time is valuable, and that others besides yourself are awaiting an audience." "I will be brief, Excellency." "That is what I wish. Go on," "A few days after the affair of the ladrones, does not your Excellency remember saying to me in a moment of anger or impatience, that you would give ten thousand piastres to obtain positive information about the adventurers, their strength, plans, &c.?" "Yes, I remember saying that; what then?" "Well, Excellency, I was present when you made that promise. Your Excellency had deigned to employ me several times before; as you looked at me while speaking, I supposed that you were addressing me, and I have acted accordingly." "That is to say?" "In my devotion to your Excellency, in spite of the numberless dangers I should have to incur, I resolved to go and seek the information you appeared to desire so ardently, and--" "And you went to seek it," the Count exclaimed with an eager start, though hitherto he had paid but very slight attention to the stranger's remarks. "Well, yes, Excellency." "Ah, ah," he said, stroking his chin; "and have you learnt anything?" "An infinity of things, my lord." "Well, let me hear some of them. But mind," he added, checking himself, "no hearsays or suppositions, for I have my ears stuffed with them." "The information I shall have the honour of giving your Excellency, is derived from a good source, since I went to seek it in the very den of the ladrones." The Count gazed with admiration at this man who had not feared to expose himself to so great a danger. "If such is the case, pray continue, señor." "My lord," the spy resumed, for we may henceforth give him that name; "I come from St. Christopher." "Ah! Is not that the Island where the bandits take shelter?" "Yes, my lord, and more than that, I returned in one of their vessels." "Oh, oh," said the governor, "pray tell me all about it, my dear Don Antonio: that is your name, I believe?" "Yes, my lord; Don Antonio de la Ronda." "You see," the Count added with a smile; "that I have a good memory sometimes," and he laid a stress on these words, which made the spy's heart bound with joy. The latter told him in what way he had entered the island, how he had been discovered and made prisoner by Montbarts, who put him on board one of his vessels; how a great expedition had been decided on by the adventurers against the island of Saint Domingo, in the first place, and then against Tortuga, which the ladrones had a plan for surprising, and on which they intend to establish themselves; and in what way, on reaching Port Margot, he had succeeded in escaping, and had hastened to bear the news to his Excellency the governor. The Count listened with the most serious attention to Don Antonio's narrative, and in proportion as it progressed, the governor's brow became more anxious; in fact, the spy had not deceived him. The news was of the utmost gravity. "Hum!" he answered; "And is it long since the ladrones arrived at Port Margot?" "Eight days, Excellency." "_¡Sangre de Cristo!_ so long as that, and I had not been informed of it?" "In spite of the utmost diligence, as I was constrained to take the greatest precaution lest I should fall again into the hands of the ladrones, who doubtless started in pursuit of me. I only arrived this morning, and came straight to the palace." The Count bit his lips, several hours had been lost through his fault; still he did not notice the indirect reproach addressed to him by the spy, for he comprehended all its justice. "You have fairly earned the ten thousand piastres promised, Don Antonio," he said. The spy gave a start of pleasure. "Ah, that is not all," he answered, with a meaning smile. "What else is there?" the Count remarked; "I believed that you had nothing further to tell me." "That depends, Excellency. I have made my official report to the Governor-General of Hispaniola, it is true--a very detailed report indeed--in which I have forgotten nothing that might help him to defend the island entrusted to his care." "Well?" "Well, my lord, I have now to give the Count de Bejar, of course, if he desire it, certain information which I believe will interest him." The Count fixed on the man an investigating glance, as if he wished to read his very soul. "The Count de Bejar?" he said with studied coldness; "What can you have to say that interests him privately, as a simple gentleman? I have not, as far as I am aware, anything to settle with the ladrones." "Perhaps so, my lord; however, I will only speak, if your Excellency orders me, and before doing so, will beg you to forgive anything that may seem offensive to your honour in what I may say to you." The Count turned pale and frowned portentously. "Take care," he said to him in a threatening voice, "take care lest you go beyond your object, and in trying to prove too much, fall into the contrary excess. The honour of my name is not to be played with, and I will never allow the slightest stain to be imprinted on it." "I have not the slightest intention to insult your Excellency; my zeal on your behalf has alone urged me to speak as I have done." "Very good--I am willing to believe it; still, as the honour of my name regards myself alone, I do not allow any person the right to assail it, not even in a good intention." "I ask your Excellency's pardon, but I have doubtless explained myself badly. What I have to tell you relates to a plot, formed, doubtless, without her knowledge, against the Countess." "A plot formed against the Countess!" Don Stenio exclaimed, violently; "What do you mean, señor? Explain at once--I insist on it." "My lord, since it is your wish, I will speak. Is not her ladyship, the Countess, at this moment in the vicinity of the small town of San Juan?" "She is; but how do you know it, since, as you told me you have only been back to Saint Domingo for a few hours?" "I presumed so, because on board the vessel in which I returned to Hispaniola, I heard something about an interview which the chief of the adventurers was to have in a few days in the neighbourhood of the Artibonite." "Oh!" the Count exclaimed; "You lie, scoundrel!" "For what object, my lord?" the spy answered, coolly. "How do I know? through hatred, envy, perhaps." "I," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Nonsense, my lord. Men like me--spies, if things must be called by their proper name--are only led away by one passion--that of money." "But what you tell me is impossible," the Count observed, with agitation. "What prevents you from assuring yourself that I speak the truth, my lord?" "I will do so, _¡Viva Dios!_" he exclaimed, stamping his foot furiously. Then he walked up to the spy, who was standing calm and motionless in the centre of the room, and fixed on him a glance full of rage, but impossible to describe. "Listen, villain!" he said in a hollow voice, half choked with passion; "If you have lied, you shall die!" "Agreed, my lord," the spy replied, coldly; "but if I have spoken the truth?" "If you have spoken the truth," he exclaimed, but suddenly broke off, "but no, it is impossible, I repeat!" and seeing a fugitive smile playing round the lips of his companion, he added, "well, be it so; if you have spoken the truth, you shall fix your own reward, and whatever it may be, on my word as a gentleman, you shall have it." "Thanks, my lord," he replied, with a bow; "I hold you to your word." The Count walked several times up and down the saloon, suffering from intense agitation, appearing to have completely forgotten the presence of the spy, muttering unconnected words, breaking out into passionate gestures, and in all probability revolving in his head sinister projects of vengeance. At length he stopped and addressed the spy again. "Withdraw," he said to him, "but do not leave the palace; or, stay, wait a moment." Seizing a bell on the table, he rang it violently. A valet appeared. "A corporal and four men," he said. The spy shrugged his shoulders. "Why all these precautions, my lord?" he asked; "is it not contrary to my interest to go away?" The Count examined him for a moment attentively, and then made the valet a sign to withdraw. "Very good," he then said, "I trust to you, Don Antonio de la Ronda. Await my orders, I shall soon have need of you." "I shall not go away far, my lord." And after bowing respectfully, he took his leave, and withdrew. The Count, when left alone, gave way for some minutes to all the violence of a rage so long restrained, but he gradually regained his coolness and the power of reflection. "Oh! I will avenge myself!" he exclaimed. Then he gave, with feverish activity, the necessary orders that numerous bodies of troops should be sent off to different points, so as to completely invest the hatto del Rincón, to which spot two Fifties were sent, commanded by experienced and resolute officers. These measures taken, the Count, wrapped in a large cloak, mounted his horse an hour after sunset, and followed by Don Antonio de la Ronda, who had not the slightest desire to leave him, and a few confidential officers, he left his palace incognito, rode through the town unrecognized, and reached the open country. "Now, caballeros," he said in a hollow voice, "gallop your hardest, and do not be afraid of foundering your horses. Relays are prepared at regular distances along the road." He dug his spurs into the flanks of his horse, which snorted with pain, and the party set out with the headlong speed of a whirlwind. "Ah, Santiago! Santiago;" the Count exclaimed at times while urging on his steed, whose efforts were superhuman, "shall I arrive in time?" CHAPTER XXIV. PORT MARGOT. We will now return to the filibustering flotilla, which we left sailing freely toward the great North Key, a rendezvous admirably selected, owing to its proximity to Saint Domingo, and exactly facing the island of the Tortoise. According to their habit, whenever they undertook an expedition, the adventurers had only troubled themselves with laying in a stock of ammunition, and only took two days' provisions with them, as they intended to make descents on the islands which they knew they must pass, and pillage the Spanish colonists settled on them. This was exactly what happened. The filibusters left behind them a long train of fire and blood, murdering, without pity, the defenceless Spaniards, who were terrified at the sight of them, seizing on their cattle and firing their houses after they had plundered them. The first vessel to anchor off the Great Key was the lugger with Montbarts on board, and commanded by Michael le Basque; on the next day the two brigantines arrived, a few hours after one another. They came to anchor on the right and left of the admiral, about two cables' length from the coast. At this period the Great Key was inhabited by red Caribs, expelled from St. Domingo by the cruelty of the Spaniards, and who had taken refuge on this island, where they lived rather comfortably, owing to the fertility of the soil, and the alliance they had contracted with the filibusters. The three vessels had scarce cast anchor, ere they were surrounded by a great number of canoes, manned by Caribs, who brought them refreshments of every description. The same evening the admiral went ashore with the greater part of his crew: the other captains imitated him, and only left behind the men absolutely necessary to guard the ships. At a signal from the admiral, the crews arranged themselves in a semicircle round him; the captains standing in front of the first line. Behind them were the Caribs, alarmed in their hearts at this formidable landing, whose motive they could not divine, anxiously awaiting what was going to happen, and not at all comprehending this display of strength. Montbarts, holding in one hand the staff of a white flag, whose folds floated on the breeze above his head, and his long sword in the other, looked round at the men gathered before him. Most of them were scarce clad, but all were well armed. They had weather-beaten complexions, vigorous limbs, huge muscles, energetic features, and a defiant glance. The adventurers thus collected around this man, who stood haughtily in front of them, with his head thrown back, quivering lips, and a flashing eye, offered a striking spectacle; their savage grandeur and rough gestures were not deficient in a certain majesty, which was rendered still more imposing by the primitive landscape that formed the background of the picture, and the picturesque group of Indians, whose anxious faces and characteristic poses added to the effect of the scene. For some time the rustling of the crowd was audible, like the sound of the sea breaking on a beach, but gradually the noise died away, and a profound silence fell on all. Montbarts then advanced a step, and in a firm and sonorous voice, whose manly accents soon captivated all these men who listened eagerly to his words, he revealed to them the purpose of the expedition, which up to this time was unknown to them. "Brothers of the coast," he said; "messmates and friends, the moment has arrived to reveal to you what I await from your courage and your devotion to the common cause. You are not mercenaries, who, for scanty pay, let themselves be killed like brutes, ignorant for what or from whom they are fighting. No! You are picked men, who wish to know to what object you are advancing, and what profit you will derive from your efforts. Several of our most renowned comrades and myself have resolved to attack in the heart of their richest possessions these cowardly Spaniards, who believed they dishonoured us by branding us with the name of _ladrones_, and whom the merest sight of our smallest canoes puts to flight like a flock of startled seagulls. But in order that our vengeance may be certain, and that we succeed in seizing the wealth of our enemies, we must possess a point sufficiently near the centre of our operations, to enable us to rush upon them unawares, and so strong that the whole power of Castile may be broken against it in impotent efforts. St. Christopher is too remote. Moreover, the descent of Admiral Don Fernando of Toledo is a proof to us, that however brave we may be, we shall never succeed in fortifying ourselves strongly enough there to defy the rage of our enemies. It was, therefore, absolutely necessary to find a spot more favourable to our projects, a point which could easily be rendered impregnable. Our friends, and myself set to work. For a long time we sought with the perseverance of men resolved to succeed. Heaven has at length deigned to bless our efforts. We have found this refuge under the most fortunate conditions." Here Montbarts made a pause for several seconds. An electric quiver ran along the ranks of the adventurers; their eyes flashed fire, they grasped their fusils in their powerful hands, as if they were impatient to commence the struggle promised them. A smile of satisfaction illumined for a moment the adventurer's pale face. Then, waving his hand to command attention, he resumed;-- "Brethren, before us is Saint Domingo;" and he stretched out his hand towards the sea. "Saint Domingo, the loveliest and wealthiest of all the isles possessed by Spain. On this island several of our brothers, who escaped the massacre of St. Christopher, have established themselves, and are contending energetically against the Spaniards, to hold the ground wrested from them. Unfortunately too few in number, in spite of their bravery, to resist for any length of time the enemy's troops, they would soon be forced to quit the island, if we did not go to their assistance. They have summoned us. We have responded to this appeal of our brothers, whom honour ordered us to succour in the hour of danger. While doing a good deed, we are carrying out the plan so long resolved by ourselves, and at last we have found the impregnable spot we have so long desired. You all know the island of Tortuga, brethren? Separated only by a narrow channel from Saint Domingo, it rises like an advanced sentry in the middle of the sea. It is the eagle's nest, whence we will laughingly brave the fury of the Spaniards. To Tortuga, brethren!" "To the island of the Tortoise!" the adventurers shouted, brandishing their weapons enthusiastically. "Good!" Montbarts continued. "I knew that you were men who would understand me, and that I could reckon upon you. Before seizing on Tortuga, however, which is only defended by an insignificant garrison of twenty soldiers, who will fly at the first blow, we must, by protecting our brethren at Saint Domingo, and securing them the territory they occupy, obtain for ourselves useful ports, advantageous outlets, and, before all, the means of easily injuring the Spaniards, and, if it be possible, expelling them entirely from the island, of which they have already lost a portion. Tomorrow, we will proceed to Port Margot, come to an understanding there with our brethren, and arrange our plans, so as to derive both honour and profit from our expedition. And now, brethren, let each crew go aboard. Tomorrow, at sunrise, we will set sail for Port Margot, and in a few days I promise you glorious fights, and a rich booty to divide among you all. Long live France, and death to Spain!" "Long live France! Death to Spain! Long live Montbarts!" the adventurers exclaimed. "Let us embark, brethren," Montbarts added. "Do not forget that the poor Indians of this island are our friends, and must be treated as such by you." The adventurers then followed their officers, and embarked in the most perfect order. At sunrise, the squadron raised anchor. We need not say that all the refreshments purchased of the Indians were scrupulously paid for, and that no one had reason to complain of their stay at the Great Key. A few hours later the flotilla entered the channel separating Saint Domingo from Tortuga, and anchored off Port Margot. The Spanish island lay before them with its large mounds, tall cliffs, and its mountains, whose peaks seemed hidden in the clouds, while on the starboard, Tortuga, with its dense, verdant forests, seemed a basket of flowers rising from the bottom of the sea. They had scarce landed ere a canoe, manned by four men, hailed the lugger. These four men were Lepoletais, whom we have already caught a glimpse of; one of his apprentices, L'Olonnais, and Omopoua, the Carib chief. The Indian had nearly got rid of the European dress, and resumed that of his nation. Montbarts went to meet his visitors, saluted them, and led them down to the cabin. "You are welcome," he said to them. "In a few minutes the other leaders of the expedition will be here, and then we will talk. In the meanwhile, take some refreshment." And he gave an engagé orders to bring in spirits. Lepoletais and Omopoua sat down without pressing, but L'Olonnais remained modestly standing. In his quality of apprentice he dared not place himself on a footing of equality with the adventurers. At this moment Michael the Basque entered the cabin. "Messmate," he said to Montbarts, "Captain Drake and David have just come aboard. They are waiting on deck." "Tell them to come below. I want to talk with them.". Michael went out. A few minutes after, he returned, accompanied by the two captains. After the first compliments, the two officers drank a bumper, then took their seats, and awaited the communication which their chief was evidently about to make to them. Montbarts knew the value of time, hence he did not put their patience to a long trial. "Brothers," he said, "I present to you Lepoletais, whom you doubtless know already by reputation." The adventurers bowed smilingly, and spontaneously offered their hand to the buccaneer. The latter cordially returned the pressure, delighted in his heart at so frank a reception. "Lepoletais," Montbarts continued, "is sent to me as a delegate by our brethren, the buccaneers of Port Margot and Port de Paix; I prefer to let him himself explain what he expects from us--in this manner we shall more easily arrive at an understanding. Speak, then, I pray, brother, we are listening." Lepoletais first poured out a glass of rum, which he swallowed at a draught, no doubt for the purpose of clearing his ideas; then, after two or three sonorous "hums!" he resolved to speak. "Brethren," he said, "whatever be the name given us--filibusters, buccaneers, or habitants--our origin is the same, is it not? And we are all adventurers. Hence, we are bound to assist and protect one another, like the free companions we are; but, in order that this protection may be efficient--that nothing may weaken in the future the alliance we contract today--we must, like yourselves, find some real profit in the alliance. Is not this the case?" "Certainly," Michael said, to encourage him. "This, then, is what is happening," Lepoletais continued; "we buccaneers and habitants are here something like the bird on the tree, continually pursued by the gavachos, who track us like wild beasts, wherever they surprise us, sustaining an unequal contest, in which we must eventually succumb, not knowing today if we shall be alive tomorrow, and gradually losing all the ground which we gained at the outset. This deplorable state of things could not go on much longer without entailing a catastrophe, which, with your aid, we hope not only to avert, but to prevent definitively; by seizing Tortuga, which is badly guarded, and will be badly defended, you procure us a sure shelter in case of danger, an ever open refuge in the event of a crisis. But this is not all; we must secure frontiers, so that tranquillity may prevail in our country, that merchant vessels may not fear to enter our ports, and that we may find an outlet for our hides, our boucaned meat, and our tallow. These frontiers can be easily secured; the only thing wanting is to seize on two points, one in the interior, which the Spaniards call the Great Savannah of San Juan, and which we have christened the Grand Fond. The town of San Juan is but poorly fortified, and merely inhabited by mulattos, or men of mixed blood, whom we could easily conquer." "Is not the Grand Fond, as you call it, traversed by the Artibonite?" Montbarts asked, while exchanging a meaning glance with L'Olonnais, who was standing by his side. "Yes," Lepoletais replied; "and in the centre is a hatto called the Rincón, belonging, I believe, to the Spanish Governor." "It would be a master stroke to seize that man," Michael the Basque observed. "Yes, but there is little probability of succeeding in capturing him, for he is at Saint Domingo," Lepoletais replied. "It is possible; but go on." "The other point is a port called Leogane, or, as the Spaniards term it, _la Iguana_, or the Lizard, from the shape of the tongue of land on which it is built; the possession of this port would render us masters of the whole western part of the island, and allow us to establish ourselves there securely." "Is Leogane defended?" David inquired. "No," Lepoletais answered, "the Spaniards let it fall into ruins, as they do, indeed, with nearly all the points they occupy; through the want of labourers, since the almost utter extinction of the Indian race of the island, they gradually abandon the old establishments, and retire to the East." "Very good," said Montbarts; "is that all you desire?" "Yes, all," Lepoletais answered. "Now, what do you propose, brother?" "This: we buccaneers will hunt for you wild oxen and boars, and provision your ships at a price agreed on between us, but which must never be higher than one-half the price we ask of foreign vessels that come to trade with us; in addition, we will defend you if attacked, and in great expeditions you will have the right to claim one man in five to accompany you, when you require it. The habitants will cultivate the land, and supply you with vegetables, tobacco, and wood to repair your vessels, on the same conditions as the provisions. This is what I am ordered to propose to you, brothers, in the name of the French habitants and buccaneers of Saint Domingo; if these conditions please you, and I consider them just and equitable, accept them, and you will have no cause to repent having negotiated with us." These propositions the filibusters were already acquainted with, and had discussed their advantages; hence they did not take long to deliberate, for they had made up their mind beforehand, as their presence at Port Margot proved. "We accept your propositions, brother," Montbarts answered--"here is my hand, in the name of the filibusters I represent." "And here is mine," Lepoletais said, "in the name of the habitants and buccaneers." There was no other treaty but this honest shake of the hand between the adventurers; thus was concluded an alliance, which remained up to the dying day of buccaneering, as fresh and lively as when first made between the adventurers. "Now," Montbarts continued, "let us proceed orderly. How many brothers have you capable of fighting?" "Seventy," Lepoletais answered. "Very good; we will add to these one hundred and thirty more from the fleet, which will give us an effective strength of two hundred good fusils. And you, Chief, what can you do for us?" Up to this moment Omopoua had remained silent, listening to what was said with Indian gravity and decorum, and patiently waiting till his turn to speak arrived. "Omopoua will add two hundred Carib warriors, with long fusils, to the palefaces," he replied; "his sons are warned; they await the order of the Chief--L'Olonnais has seen them." "Good! These four hundred men will be commanded by myself; as this expedition is the most difficult and dangerous, I will undertake it. Michel le Basque will accompany me. I have aboard a guide, who will conduct us to Grand Fond. You, Drake, and you, David, will attack Leogane with your ships, while Bowline, with only fifteen men, will seize on Tortuga. Let us combine our movements, brothers, so that our three attacks may be simultaneous, and the Spaniards, surprised on three points at once, may not be able to assist one another. Tomorrow you will sail, gentlemen, taking with you one hundred and eighty-five men, more than sufficient, I believe, to capture Leogane. As for you, Bowline, you will keep the lugger with the fifteen men left you, and remain here, while watching Tortuga closely. This is the fifth of the month, brothers; on the fifteenth we will attack, as ten days will be sufficient for all of us to reach our posts, and take all the necessary measures. Now, gentlemen, return aboard your vessels, and send ashore, under orders of their officers, the contingents I intend to take with me." The two Captains bowed to the Admiral, left the cabin, and returned to their ships. "As for you," Montbarts added, turning to Lepoletais, "this is what you will do, brother. You will go with Omopoua to the Grand Fond, as if hunting, but you will carefully watch the town of San Juan, and the hatto del Rincón; we must, if possible, make sure of the inhabitants of that hatto; they are rich and influential, and their capture may be of considerable importance to us. You will arrange with Omopoua on the subject of the allies he promises to bring us; perhaps it will be as well for the Chief to try and lead the Spaniards on to his track, and force them to quit their positions: by managing cleverly we might then be able to defeat them in detail. Have you understood me, brother?" "Zounds!" Lepoletais answered, "I should be an ass if I did not. All right! I will manoeuvre as you wish." Montbarts then turned to the engagé, and made him a sign. L'Olonnais drew nearer. "Go ashore with the Carib and Lepoletais," the Admiral whispered in his ear--"look at everything, hear everything, watch everything; in an hour you will receive through Bowline a letter, which you must deliver into the hands of Doña Clara de Bejar, who resides in the hatto on the Grand Fond." "That is easy," L'Olonnais answered, "if it must be, I will hand it to her in the midst of all her servants, in the hatto itself." "Do nothing of the sort; arrange it so that she must come and fetch the letter." "Hang it! That is more difficult! Still, I will try to succeed." "You must succeed!" "Ah! In that case, on the word of a man, you may reckon on it--though, hang me if I know how I shall manage it!" Lepoletais had risen. "Farewell, brother," he said; "when you land tomorrow I shall be on my way to the Grand Fond; I shall, therefore, not see you again till we meet there; but do not be alarmed--you shall find everything in order when you arrive. Ah! By the way, shall I take my body of buccaneers with me?" "Certainly; they will be of the greatest use to you in watching the enemy; but hide them carefully." "All right," he said. At this moment Michael the Basque rushed suddenly into the cabin, with his features distorted by passion. "What is the matter, messmate? Come, recover yourself," Montbarts said coolly to him. "A great misfortune has happened to us," Michael exclaimed, as he passionately pulled out a handful of hair. "What is it? Come, speak like a man, messmate." "That villain, Antonio de la Ronda--" "Well?" Montbarts interrupted, with a nervous tremor. "He has escaped!" "Malediction!" "Ten men have set out in pursuit." "Stuff! It is all up now; they will not catch him. What is to be done?" "What has happened?" Lepoletais asked. "Our guide has escaped." "Is it only that? I promise to find you another." "Yes, but this one is probably the cleverest spy the Spaniards possess; he knows enough of our secrets to make our expedition fail." "Heaven preserve us from it! Stuff!" the buccaneer added, carelessly--"Think no more about it, brother; what is done is done--let us go ahead all the same." And he left the cabin, apparently quite unaffected by the news. CHAPTER XXV. FRAY ARSENIO. Let us now tell the reader who these buccaneers were of whom we have several times spoken, and what was the origin of the name given them, and which they gave themselves. The red Caribs of the Antilles were accustomed, when they made prisoners in the obstinate contests they waged with each other, or which they carried on against the whites, to cut their prisoners into small pieces, and lay them upon a species of small hurdles, under which they lit a fire. These hurdles were called _barbacoas_, the spot where they were set up _boucans_, and the operation _boucaning_, to signify at the same time roasting and smoking. It was from this that the French boucaniers (anglicised into buccaneers) derived their name, with this difference, that they did to animals what the others did to men. The first buccaneers were Spanish settlers on the Caribbean islands, who lived on intimate terms with the Indians; hence when they turned their attention to the chase, they accustomed themselves without reflection to employ these Indian terms, which were certainly characteristic, and for which it would have been difficult to substitute any others. The buccaneers carried on no other trade but hunting; they were divided into two classes, the first only hunting oxen to get their hides, the second killing boars, whose flesh they salted and sold to the planters. These two varieties of buccaneers were accoutred nearly in the same way, and had the same mode of life. The real buccaneers were those who pursued oxen, and they never called the others by any name but hunters. Their equipage consisted of a pack of twenty-four dogs, among which were two bloodhounds, whose duty it was to discover the animal; the price of these dogs, settled among themselves, was thirty livres. As we have said, their weapon was a long fusil, manufactured at Dieppe or Nantes; they always hunted together, two at the least, but sometimes more, and then everything was in common between them. As we advance in the history of these singular men, we shall enter into fuller details about their mode of life and strange habits. When Don Sancho and the Major-domo left them, Lepoletais and L'Olonnais had for a long time looked with a mocking glance after the two Spaniards, and then went on building their ajoupa and preparing their boucan, as if nothing had happened. So soon as the boucan was arranged, the fire lit, and the meat laid on the barbacoas, L'Olonnais set about curing the hide he had brought with him, while Lepoletais did the same to that of the bull which he had killed an hour previously. He stretched the hide out on the ground, with the hairy side up, fastened it down by sixty-four pegs, driven into the earth, and then rubbed it vigorously with a mixture of ashes and salt, to make it dry more quickly. This duly accomplished, he turned his attention to supper, the preparations for which were neither long nor complicated. A piece of meat had been placed in a small cauldron, with water and salt, and soon boiled; L'Olonnais drew it out by means of a long pointed stick, and laid it on a palm leaf in lieu of a dish; then he collected the grease with a wooden spoon, and threw it into a calabash. Into this grease he squeezed the juice of a lemon, added a little pimento, stirred it all up, and the sauce, the famous _pimentado_, so liked by the buccaneers, was ready. Placing the meat in a pleasant spot in front of the ajoupa, with the calabash by its side, he called Lepoletais, and the men sitting down facing each other, armed themselves with their knife and a wooden spit instead of a fork, and began eating with a good appetite, carefully dipping each mouthful of meat in the pimentado, and surrounded by their dogs, which, though not daring to ask for anything, fixed greedy glances on the provisions spread out before them, and followed with eager eyes every morsel swallowed by the adventurers. They had been eating this in silence for some time, when the bloodhounds raised their heads, inhaling the air restlessly, and then gave several hoarse growls; almost immediately the whole pack began barking furiously. "Eh, eh!" Lepoletais said, after drinking a mouthful of brandy and water, and handing the gourd to the engagé, "What is the meaning of this?" "Some traveller, no doubt," L'Olonnais answered carelessly. "At this hour," the buccaneer went on, as he raised his eyes to the sky, and consulted the stars, "why hang it all, it is past eight o'clock at night." "Zounds! I do not know what it is. But stay, I do not know whether I am mistaken, for I fancy I can hear a horse galloping." "It is really true, my son, you are not mistaken," the buccaneer continued, "it is indeed a horse; come, quiet, you devils," he shouted, addressing the dogs, which had redoubled their barking, and seemed ready to rush forward, "quiet, lie down, you ruffians." The dogs, doubtless accustomed for a long time to obey the imperious accents of this voice, immediately resumed their places, and ceased their deafening clamour, although they still continued to growl dully. In the meanwhile the galloping horses which the dogs had heard a great distance off, rapidly drew nearer; it soon became perfectly distinct, and at the end of a few minutes a horseman emerged from the forest, and became visible, although owing to the darkness it was not yet possible to see who this man might be. On turning into the savannah, he stopped his horse, seemed to look around him, with an air of indecision, for some minutes, then, loosening the rein again, he came up toward the boucan at a sharp trot. On reaching the two men, who continued their supper quietly, while keeping an eye on him, he bowed, and addressed them in Spanish-- "Worthy friends," he said to them, "whoever you may be, I ask you, in the name of the Lord, to grant a traveller, who has lost his way, hospitality for this night." "Here is fire, and here is meat," the buccaneer replied, laconically, in the same language the traveller had employed; "rest yourself, and eat." "I thank you," he said. He dismounted: in the movement he made to leave the saddle, his cloak flew open, and the buccaneers perceived that the man was dressed in a religious garb. This discovery surprised them, though they did not allow it to be seen. On his side the stranger gave a start of terror, which was immediately suppressed, on perceiving that in his precipitation to seek a shelter for the night, he had come upon a boucan of French adventurers. The latter, however, had made him a place by their side, and while he was hobbling his horse, and removing its bridle, so that it might graze on the tall close grass of the savannah, they had placed for him, on a palm leaf, a lump of meat sufficient to still the appetite of a man who had been fasting for four and twenty hours. Somewhat reassured by the cordial manner of the adventurers, and, in his impossibility to do otherwise, bravely resolving to accept the awkward situation in which his awkwardness had placed him, the stranger sat down between his two hosts, and began to eat, while reflecting on the means of escaping from the difficult position in which he found himself. The adventurers, who had almost completed their meal before his arrival, left off eating long before him; they gave their dogs the food they had been expecting with so much impatience, then lit their pipes, and began smoking, paying no further attention to their guest beyond handing him the things he required. At length the stranger wiped his mouth, and, in order to prove to his hosts that he was quite as much at his ease as they, he produced a leaf of paper and tobacco, delicately rolled a cigarette, lit it, and smoked apparently as calmly as themselves. "I thank you for your generous hospitality, señores," he said, presently, understanding that along silence might be interpreted to his disadvantage, "I had a great necessity to recruit my strength, for I have been fasting since the morning." "That is very imprudent, señor," Lepoletais answered, "to embark thus without any biscuit, as we sailors say; the savannah is somewhat like the sea, you know when you start on it, but you never know when you will leave it again." "What you say is perfectly true, señor; had it not been for you, I am afraid I should have passed a very bad night." "Pray say no more about that, señor; we have only done for you what we should wish to be done for us under similar circumstances. Hospitality is a sacred duty, which no one has a right to avoid: besides, you are a palpable proof of it." "How so?" "Why, you are a Spaniard, if I am not mistaken, while we, on the contrary, are French. Well, we forget for the moment our hatred of your nation, to welcome you at our fireside, as every guest sent by Heaven has the right to be received." "That is true, señor, and I thank you doubly, be assured." "Good Heavens!" the buccaneer replied, "I assure you that you act wrongly in dwelling so much on this subject. What we are doing at this moment is as much for you as in behalf of our honour, hence I beg you, señor, not to say any more about it, for it is really not worth the trouble." "Bless me, señor," L'Olonnais said with a laugh, "why, we are old acquaintances, though you little suspect it, I fancy." "Old acquaintances!" the stranger exclaimed, in surprise; "I do not understand you, señor." "And yet what I am saying is very clear." "If you would deign to explain," the stranger replied, completely thrown on his beam ends, as Lepoletais would have said, "perhaps I shall understand, which, I assure you, will cause me great pleasure." "I wish for nothing better than to explain myself, señor," L'Olonnais said, with a bantering air; "and in the first place, permit me to observe, that, though your cloak is so carefully buttoned, it is not sufficiently so to conceal the Franciscan garb you wear under it." "I am indeed a monk of that order," the stranger answered, rather disconcerted; "but that does not prove that you know me." "Granted, but I am certain that I shall bring back your recollection by a single word." "I fancy you are mistaken, my dear señor, and that we never saw each other before." "Are you quite sure of that?" "Man, as you are aware, can never be sure of anything; still, it seems to me--" "And yet, it is so long since we met; it is true that you possibly did not pay any great attention to me." "On my honour, I know not what you mean," the monk remarked after attentively examining him for a minute or two. "Come," the engagé said with a laugh, "I will take pity on your embarrassment; and, as I promised you, dissipate all your doubts by a single word; we saw each other on the island of Nevis. Do you remember me?" At this revelation, the monk turned pale; he lost countenance, and for some minutes remained as if petrified; still the thought of denying the truth did not come to him for a second. "Where," L'Olonnais added, "you had a long conversation with Montbarts." "Still," the monk said with a hesitation that was not exempt from terror, "I do not understand--" "How I knew everything," L'Olonnais interrupted him laughingly, "then, you have not got to the end of your astonishment." "What, I am not at the end?" "Bah, Señor Padre, do you fancy that I should have taken the trouble to bother you about such a trifle? I know a good deal more." "What do you say?" the monk exclaimed, recoiling instinctively from this man whom he was not indisposed to regard as a sorcerer, the more so because he was a Frenchman, and a buccaneer to boot, two peremptory reasons why Satan should nearly be master of his soul, if by chance he possessed one, which the worthy monk greatly doubted. "Zounds!" the engagé resumed, "You suppose, I think, that I do not know the motive of your journey, the spot where you have come from, where you are going, and more than that, the person you are about to see." "Oh, come, that is impossible," the monk said with a startled look. Lepoletais laughed inwardly at the ill-disguised terror of the Spaniard. "Take care, father," he whispered mysteriously in Fray Arsenio's ear, "that man knows everything; between ourselves, I believe him to be possessed by the demon." "Oh!" he exclaimed, rising hastily and crossing himself repeatedly, which caused the adventurers a still heartier laugh. "Come, resume your seat and listen to me," L'Olonnais continued as he seized him by the arm, and obliged him to sit down again, "my friend and I are only joking." "Excuse me, noble caballeros," the monk stammered, "I am in an extraordinary hurry, and must leave you at once, though most reluctantly." "Nonsense! Where could you go alone at this hour? Fall into a bog. Eh?" This far from pleasant prospect caused the monk to reflect; still, the terror he felt was the stronger. "No matter," he said, "I must be gone." "Nonsense, you will never find your road to the hatto del Rincón in this darkness." This time the monk was fairly conquered, this new revelation literally benumbed him, he fancied himself suffering from a terrible nightmare, and did not attempt to continue an impossible struggle. "There," the engagé resumed, "now, you are reasonable; rest yourself, I will not torment you any more, and in order to prove to you that I am not so wicked as you suppose me, I undertake to find you a guide." "A guide," Fray Arsenio stammered, "Heaven guard me from accepting one at your hand." "Reassure yourself, señor Padre, it will not be a demon, though he may possibly have some moral and physical resemblance with the evil spirit; the guide I refer to is very simply a Carib." "Ah!" said the monk drawing a deep breath, as if a heavy weight had been removed from his chest, "If he is really a Carib." "Zounds! Who the deuce would you have it be?" Fray Arsenio crossed himself devoutly. "Excuse me," he said, "I did not wish to insult you." "Come, come, have patience, I will go myself and fetch the promised guide, for I see that you are really in a hurry to part company." L'Olonnais rose, took his fusil, whistled to a bloodhound, and went off at a rapid pace. "You will now be able," said Lepoletais, "to continue your journey without fear of going astray." "Has that worthy caballero really gone to fetch me a guide, as he promised?" Fray Arsenio asked, who did not dare to place full confidence in the engagé's word. "Hang it! I know no other reason why he should leave the boucan." "Then you are really a buccaneer, señor?" "At your service, padre." "Ah, ah! And do you often come to these parts?" "Deuce take me if I do not believe you are questioning me, monk," Lepoletais said with a frown, and looking him in the face; "how does it concern you whether I come here or not?" "Me? Not at all." "That is true, but it may concern others, may it not? And you would not be sorry to know the truth." "Oh? can you suppose such a thing?" Fray Arsenio hastily said. "I do not suppose, by Heaven, I know exactly what I am saying, but, believe me, señor monk, you had better give up this habit of questioning, especially with buccaneers, people who through their character, do not like questions, or else you might some day run the risk of being played an ugly trick. It is only a simple piece of advice I venture to give you." "Thank you, señor, I will bear it in mind, though in saying what I did, I had not the intention you suppose." "All the better, but still profit by my hint." Thus rebuffed, the monk shut himself up in a timid silence; and in order to give a turn to his thoughts which, we are bound to say, were anything but rosy colored at this moment, he took up the rosary hanging from his girdle, and began muttering prayers in a low voice. Nearly an hour passed then without a word being exchanged between the two men; Lepoletais cut up tobacco, while humming a tune, and the monk prayed, or seemed to be doing so. At length a slight noise was heard a short distance off, and a few minutes later the engagé appeared, followed by an Indian, who was no other than Omopoua, the Carib chief. "Quick, quick, señor monk," L'Olonnais said gaily; "here is your guide, I answer for his fidelity; he will lead you in safety within two gun shots of the hatto." The monk did not let the invitation be repeated, for anything seemed to him preferable to remaining any longer in the company of these two reprobates; besides, he thought that he had nothing to fear from an Indian. He rose at one bound, and bridled his horse again, which had made an excellent supper, and had had all the time necessary to rest. "Señores," he said, so soon as he was in the saddle, "I thank you for your generous hospitality, may the blessing of the Lord be upon you!" "Thanks," the engagé replied with a laugh, "but one last hint before parting; on arriving at the hatto, do not forget to tell Doña Clara from me, that I shall expect her here tomorrow; do you hear?" The monk uttered a cry of terror; without replying, he dug his spurs into his horse's flanks, and set off at a gallop, in the direction where the Carib was already going, with that quick, elastic step, with which a horse has a difficulty in keeping up. The two buccaneers watched his flight with a hearty laugh, then, stretching out their feet to the fire, and laying their weapons within reach, they prepared to sleep, guarded by their dogs, vigilant sentries that would not let them be surprised. CHAPTER XXVI. THE CONSEQUENCES OF A MEETING. Fray Arsenio followed his silent guide delightedly, although he was surrendered into the hands of an Indian, who must instinctively hate the Spaniards, those ferocious oppressors of his decimated and almost destroyed race. Still, the monk was glad at having escaped safe and sound from the clutches of the adventurers, whom he feared not only as ladrones, that is to say, men without faith and steeped in vice, but also as demons, or at the least sorcerers in regular connection with Satan, for such were the erroneous ideas which the most enlightened of the Spaniards entertained about the filibusters and buccaneers. It had needed all the devotion which the monk professed for Doña Clara, and all the ascendancy that charming woman possessed over those who approached her, to make him consent to execute a plan so mad in his opinion, as that of entering into direct relation with one of the most renowned chiefs of the filibusters, and it was with a great tremor that he had accompanied his penitent to Nevis. When we met him, he was proceeding to the hatto, to inform Doña Clara, as had been arranged between them, of the arrival of the filibustering squadron at Port Margot, and consequently of Montbart's presence in the island of Saint Domingo. Unfortunately the monk, but little used to night journeys, across untrodden roads which he must guess at every step, lost himself on the savannah; overcome with terror, almost dead with hunger, and worn out by fatigue, the monk had seen the light of a fire flashing a short distance off; the sight of this had restored him hope, if not courage, and he had consequently ridden as fast as he could toward the fire, and tumbled headlong into a boucan of French adventurers. In doing this, he unconsciously followed the example of the silly moth, which feels itself irresistibly attracted to the candle in which it singes its wings. More fortunate than these insects, the monk had burned nothing at all; he had rested, eaten and drunk well, and, apart from a very honest terror at finding himself so unexpectedly in such company, he had escaped pretty well, or at least he supposed so, from this great danger, and had even succeeded in obtaining a guide. Everything, then, was for the best, the Lord had not ceased to watch over His servant, and the latter only needed to let himself be guarded by Him. Moreover the monk's confidence was augmented by the taciturn carelessness of his guide who, without uttering a syllable, or even appearing to trouble himself about him the least in the world, walked in front of his horse, crossing the savannah obliquely, making a way through the tall grass, and seemed to direct himself as surely amid the darkness that surrounded him, as if he had been lit by the dazzling sunbeams. They went on thus for a long time following each other without the interchange of a word; like all the Spaniards, Fray Arsenio professed a profound contempt for the Indians, and it was much against his will that he ever entered into relations with them. For his part, the Carib was not at all anxious to carry on with this man, whom he regarded as a born foe of his race, a conversation which could only be an unimportant gossip. They had reached the top of a small hill, from which could be seen gleaming in the distance, like so many luminous dots, the watch fires of the soldiers encamped round the hatto, when all at once, instead of descending the hill and continuing his advance, Omopoua stopped, and looked round him anxiously, while strongly inhaling the air, and ordering the Spaniard by a wave of his hand to halt. The latter obeyed and remained motionless as an equestrian statue, while observing with a curiosity blended with a certain amount of discomfort, the manoeuvres of his guide. The Carib had laid himself down and was listening with his ear to the ground. At the end of a few minutes he rose again, though he did not cease listening. "What is the matter?" the monk, whom this conduct was beginning seriously to alarm, asked. "Horsemen are coming towards us at full speed." "Horsemen at this hour of night on the savannah?" Fray Arsenio remarked incredulously; "It is impossible." "Why, you are here?" the Indian said with a jeering smile. "Hum! That is true," the monk muttered, struck by the logic of the answer; "who can they be!" "I do not know, but I will soon tell you," the Carib answered. And before the monk had the time to ask him what his scheme was, Omopoua glided through the tall grass and disappeared, leaving Fray Arsenio greatly disconcerted at this sudden flight, and extremely annoyed at finding himself thus left alone in the middle of the desert. A few minutes elapsed, during which the monk tried, though in vain, to hear the sound which the Indian's sharp sense of hearing had caused him to catch long before, amid the confused rumours of the savannah. The monk, believing himself decidedly deserted by his guide, was preparing to continue his journey, leaving to Providence the care of bringing him safely into port, when he heard a slight rustling in the bushes close to him, and the Indian reappeared. "I have seen them," he said. "Ah!" the monk replied; "And who are they?" "White men like you." "Spaniards in that case?" "Yes, Spaniards." "All the better," Fray Arsenio continued, whom the good news completely reassured; "are they numerous?" "Five or six at least; they are proceeding like yourself, towards the hatto, where, as far as I could understand, they are very eager to arrive." "That is famous; where are they at this moment?" "Two stones' throw at the most. According to the direction they are following, they will pass the spot where you are now standing." "Better still. In that case we have only to wait." "You can do so, if you think proper; but I have no wish to meet them." "That is true, my friend," the monk remarked, with a paternal air. "And possibly such a meeting would not be agreeable to you; so pray accept my thanks for the manner in which you have guided me hitherto." "You are quite resolved on waiting for them, then? If you like, I can enable you to avoid them." "I have no motive for concealing myself from men of my own colour. Whoever they may be, I feel sure that I shall find friends in them." "Very good. Your affairs concern yourself, and I have nothing to do with them. But the sound is drawing nearer, and as they will speedily arrive, I will leave you, for it is unnecessary for them to find me here." "Farewell." "One last recommendation: if by chance they had a fancy to ask who served as your guide, do not tell them." "It is not at all probable they will ask this." "No matter. Promise me, if they do, to keep my secret." "Very good. I will be silent, since you wish it; although I do not understand the motive for such a recommendation." The monk had not finished the sentence, ere the Indian disappeared. The horsemen were rapidly approaching. The galloping of their steeds echoed on the ground like the rolling of thunder. Suddenly several shadows, scarcely distinguishable in the obscurity, rose as it were in the midst of the darkness, and a sharp voice shouted-- "Who goes there?" "A friend!" the monk answered. "Tell your name, _¡sangre de Dios!_" the voice repeated, passionately, while the dry snap of a pistol being cocked, sounded disagreeably in the monk's ears. "At night there are friends in the desert!" "I am a poor Franciscan monk, proceeding to the hatto del Rincón; and my name is Fray Arsenio Mendoza." A hoarse cry replied to the monk's words--a cry whose meaning he had not the time to conjecture; that is to say, whether it was the result of pleasure or anger; for the horsemen came up with him like lightning, and surrounded him even before he could understand the reason of such a headlong speed to reach him. "Why, señores," he exclaimed, in a voice trembling with emotion, "what is the meaning of this? Have I to do with the _ladrones?_" "Good! Good! Calm yourself, Señor Padre," a rough voice answered, which he fancied he recognised. "We are not _ladrones_, but Spaniards like yourself; and nothing could cause us more pleasure than meeting you at this moment." "I am delighted at what you say to me, caballero. I confess that at first the suddenness of your movements alarmed me; but now I am completely reassured." "All the better," the stranger replied, ironically; "for I want to talk with you." "Talk with me, señor?" he said, with surprise. "The spot and the hour are badly chosen for an interview, I fancy. If you will wait till we reach the hatto, I will place myself at your disposal." "Enough talking. Get off your horse," the stranger observed, roughly; "unless you wish me to drag you off." The monk took a startled glance around him, but the horsemen looked at him savagely, and did not appear disposed to come to his help. Fray Arsenio, through profession and temperament, was quite the opposite of a brave man. The way in which the adventure began was commencing seriously to alarm him. He did not yet know into what hands he had fallen, but everything led him to suppose that these individuals, whoever they might be, were not actuated by kindly feelings towards him. Still any resistance was impossible, and he resigned himself to obey; but it was not without a sigh of regret, intended for the Carib, whose judicious advice he had spurned, that he at length got off his horse, and placed himself in front of his stern questioner. "Light a torch!" the strange horseman said. "I wish this man to recognise me, so that, knowing who I am, he may be aware that he cannot employ any subterfuge with me, and that frankness alone will save him from the fate that menaces him." The monk understood less and less. He really believed himself suffering from an atrocious nightmare. By the horseman's orders, however, one of his suite had lighted a torch of ocote wood. So soon as the flame played over the stranger's feature, and illumined his face, the monk gave a start of surprise, and clasped his hands at the same time as his countenance suddenly reassumed its serenity. "Heaven be praised!" he said, with an accent of beatitude impossible to render. "Is it possible that it can be you, Don. Stenio de Bejar? I was so far from believing that I should have the felicity of meeting you this night, Señor Conde, that, on my faith, I did not recognise you, and felt almost frightened." The Count, for it was really he whom the monk had so unfortunately met, did not answer for the moment, but contented himself with smiling. Don Stenio de Bejar, who had left Saint Domingo at full speed, for the purpose of going to the hatto del Rincón, in order to convince himself of the truth of the information given him by Don Antonio de la Ronda, thus found himself, by the greatest accident, just as he was reaching his destination, and when he least expected it, face to face with Fray Arsenio Mendoza; that is to say, with the only man capable of proving to him peremptorily the truth or falsehood of the assertions of the spy, who had denounced Doña Clara to her husband. Fray Arsenio's reputation for poltroonery had long been current among his countrymen, and hence nothing seemed more easy than to obtain from him the truth in its fullest details. The Count believed himself almost certain, by employing intimidation, to make Fray Arsenio confess what he knew: hence, so soon as the latter had mentioned his name, Don Stenio, warned by the spy, who rode at his side, resolved to terrify the monk, and thus render it impossible for him to resist the orders he might intimate to him. We take pleasure in believing that in acting thus, the Count had not the slightest intention of treating the monk with a violence, which in any case would be deplorable, but dishonourable on the part of a man in his position. Unfortunately, through the unforeseen and incomprehensible resistance which, contrary to all probability, the monk offered him, the Count was led away by his passion, and gave orders against his better judgment, when harshness and even cruelty could in no case be justified. After a silence of some seconds, Don Stenio fixed a piercing glance on the monk, as if he wished to read his very soul, and then seized him brutally by the arm. "Where have you come from?" he asked him, in a rough voice. "Is it the custom for monks of your order to ramble about the country at this hour of the night?" "My lord!" Fray Arsenio stammered, thrown off his guard by this question, which he was far from expecting. "Come, come!" the Count continued; "Answer at once, and let us have no subterfuge or tergiversation." "But, my lord, I do not at all understand this great anger which you appear to have with me. I am innocent, I vow!" "Ah! ah!" he said, with an ironical laugh; "You are innocent! _¡Viva Dios!_ you make haste to defend yourself before you are accused; hence you feel yourself guilty." Fray Arsenio was aware of the Count's jealousy, which he concealed so poorly, that, in spite of all his efforts, it was visible to everybody. Hence he understood that Doña Clara's secret had been revealed to her husband; and he foresaw the peril that menaced him for having acted as her accomplice. Still, he hoped that the Count had only learnt certain facts, while remaining ignorant of the details of the Countess' voyage; and hence, though he trembled at heart at the thought of the dangers to which he was doubtless exposed, alone and defenceless, in the hands of a man blinded by passion and the desire of avenging what he regarded as a stain on his honour, he resolved, whatever might happen, not to betray the confidence which a woman had unhappily placed in him. He raised his head and replied with a firm voice, and with an accent at which he was himself astonished-- "My lord, you are governor of Saint Domingo; you have a right to exercise justice over those placed under your rule. You possess almost sovereign power, but you have no right, as far as I know, to ill treat me, either by word or deed, or to make me undergo an examination at your caprice. I have superiors on whom I am dependant; have me taken before them; hand me over to their justice, if I have committed any fault they will punish me, for they alone have the right of condemning or acquitting me." The Count had listened to the monk's long answer, while biting his lips savagely and stamping his foot with passion. He had not thought to find such resistance in this man. "So, then," he exclaimed, when Fray Arsenio at length ceased speaking, "you refuse to answer me?" "I refuse, my lord," he coldly replied, "because you have no right to question me." "You forget, however, Señor Padre, that if I have not the right, I have the might, at least, at this moment." "You are at liberty, my lord, to abuse that might, by applying it to an unhappy and defenceless man. I am no soldier, and physical suffering frightens me. I do not know how I shall endure the tortures you will perhaps inflict on me, but there is one thing of which I am certain." "What is it, may I ask, Señor Padre?" "That I will die, my lord, before answering any of your questions." "We shall see that," he said, sarcastically, "if you compel me to have recourse to violence." "You will see," he replied, in a gentle but firm voice, which denoted an irrevocable determination. "For the last time, I deign to warn you: take care--reflect." "All my reflections are made, my lord; I am in your power. Abuse my weakness as you may think proper, I shall not even attempt a useless defence. I shall not be the first monk of my order who has fallen a martyr to duty: others have preceded me, and others will doubtless follow me in this painful track." The Count stamped his foot savagely; the spectators, dumb and motionless, exchanged terrified glances, for they foresaw that this scene would soon have a terrible denouement, between two men, neither of whom would make concessions; while the first of them, blinded by rage, would soon not be in a condition to listen to the salutary counsels of reason. "My lord," Don Antonio de la Ronda murmured, "the stars are beginning to turn pale, and the day will soon dawn; we are still far from the hatto, would it not be better to set out without further delay?" "Silence!" the Count answered, with a smile of contempt. "Pedro," he added, addressing one of his domestics, "a match." The valet dismounted and advanced with a long sulphured match in his hand. "The two thumbs," the Count said, laconically. The domestic approached the monk; the latter offered his hands without hesitation, although his face was fearfully pale, and his whole body trembled. Pedro coolly rolled the match between his two thumbs, passing it several times under his nails, and then turned to the Count. "For the last time, monk," the latter said, "will you speak?" "I have nothing to say to you, my lord," Fray Arsenio replied, in a soft voice. "Light it," the Count commanded, biting his lips till they bled. The valet, with the passive obedience distinguishing men of this class, set fire to the match. The monk fell on his knees and raised his eyes to Heaven. His face had assumed an earthy tint, a cold perspiration beaded on his temples, and his hair stood on end. The suffering he experienced must be horrible, for his chest heaved violently, although his parched lips remained dumb. The Count watched him anxiously. "Will you speak now, monk?" he said to him in a hollow voice. Fray Arsenio turned toward him a face whose features were distorted by pain, and gave him a look full of ineffable gentleness. "I thank you, my lord," he said, "for having taught me that pain does not exist for a man whose faith is lively." "My curses on you, wretch!" the Count exclaimed, as he hurled him down with a blow on the chest. "To horse, señores, to horse, so that we may reach the hatto before sunrise." The cavaliers remounted, and went off at full speed, leaving, without a glance of compassion, the poor monk, who, vanquished by pain, had rolled fainting on the ground. CHAPTER XXVII. THE ORGANIZATION OF THE COLONY. A triple expedition, so serious as that conceived by Montbarts, demanded, for its success, extreme care and precautions. The few points occupied by the buccaneers on the Spanish isles, did not at all resemble towns; they were agglomerations of houses built without order, according to the liking or caprice of the owner, and occupying a space twenty-fold larger than they should have taken in accordance with the population. Hence, these points were spots almost impossible to defend against a well-combined attack of the Spaniards, if the thought occurred to the latter of finishing once for all with their formidable neighbours. Port Margot, for instance, the most important point in the French possessions as a strategic position, was only a miserable hamlet, open to all comers, without police or organization, where every language was spoken, and which Spanish spies entered with the greatest facility without incurring a risk of discovery, and thus scented the plans of the filibusters. Montbarts, before advancing and attacking the Spaniards, whom he correctly suspected of being already acquainted with the motive of his presence on the island, either through Don Antonio de la Ronda, or other spies, and not wishing, when he was preparing to surprise the enemy, to be himself surprised and see his retreat cut off by an unforeseen attack, resolved to shelter Port Margot from a _coup de main._ The grand council of the filibusters was convened on board the admiral's lugger. In this way the resolutions formed by the council would not transpire outside, and not reach hostile ears, ever open to hear them. Two days after the departure of Lepoletais, the council therefore assembled on the deck of the vessel, which had been prepared for the purpose, as the admiral's cabin had been judged too small to contain all those whom their wealth or their reputation authorized in being present at the meeting. At ten in the morning, numerous skiffs left the shore and pulled alongside the lugger, boarding it on all sides simultaneously. Montbarts received the delegates as they presented themselves, and led them beneath the awning prepared for them. Ere long, all the delegates were assembled on board: they were forty in number; filibusters, buccaneers, and habitants, all adventurers who had lived for several years on the isles, and desperate enemies of the Spaniards. Their complexion, bronzed by the tropical sun, their energetic features, and flashing glances, made them resemble bandits rather than peaceful colonists; but their frank and decided manners allowed a guess at the prodigies of incredible daring which they had already accomplished, and were ready to accomplish again, when the moment for action arrived. When all the members of the council were on board, Michael the Basque gave the skiffs orders to return ashore, and to come alongside again when they saw a large black and red flag hoisted at the mainmast of the lugger. A splendid lunch preceded the council, which, was held at table and during the dessert, so as to foil any indiscreet glances, which were doubtless watching what was going on aboard from the top of the cliffs. When the repast was ended, and spirits, pipes, and tobacco had been laid on the table by the engagés, an order was given to remove the awning; the whole of the lugger's crew retired to the bows, and Montbarts, without leaving his seat, struck the table with his knife to request silence. The delegates vaguely knew that grave interests were about to be discussed, hence they had only eaten and drunk for form's sake, and though the table offered all the appearances of a true filibustering orgy, their brains were perfectly clear, and their heads cool. The road of Port Margot offered at this moment a strange spectacle, which was not deficient, however, in a certain picturesque and wild grandeur. Thousands of canoes were lying on their oars, forming an immense circle, of which the filibustering squadron was the centre. On shore, the cliffs and rocks were literally hidden by the confused and dense mass of spectators who had flocked from all the houses to watch, at a distance, this gigantic and Homeric feast, whose serious motive they were far from suspecting, beneath its frivolous appearance. Montbarts, after calling his friends' attention in a few words, to the enormous crowd of spectators who surrounded them, and showing how correct he had been in taking his precautions in consequence, filled his glass, and rose, shouting in a sonorous voice-- "Brethren, the health of the king!" "The health of the king!" the filibusters responded, as they rose, and clinked their glasses together. At the same moment, all the guns of the lugger were discharged with a formidable noise; a loud clamour that rose from the beach proved that the spectators heartily joined in this patriotic toast. "Now," the admiral continued, as he sat down, which movement was imitated by his companions, "let us talk of our business, and be careful in doing so, that our gestures may not allow a suspicion of what is occupying us, since our words cannot be overheard." The council commenced its session. Montbarts, with the lofty views and clearness of expression he possessed, explained, in a few words, the critical position in which the colony would find it, unless energetic measures were taken, not only to place it in a position to defend itself, but also to hold out during the absence of the expedition. "I can understand," he said in conclusion, "that so long as we merely purposed to hunt wild bulls, such precautions were unnecessary, for our breasts were a sure rampart for our habitations; but from today the position is changed, we wish to create for ourselves an impregnable refuge; we are going to attack the Spaniards in their homes, and must consequently expect terrible reprisals from enemies, who, from the way in which we act towards them, will soon comprehend that we wish to remain the sole possessors of this land, which they have accustomed themselves to regard as belonging to them legitimately; we must, therefore, be in a position, not alone to resist them, but to inflict on them such a chastisement for their audacity, that they will be for ever disgusted with any fresh attempts to regain the territory we have conquered. To effect this, we must build a real town, in the place of the temporary camp which has, up to the present, sufficed us; and, with the exception of the members of our association, no stranger must be allowed to introduce himself among us, for the sake of spying us, and repeating to our enemies our secrets, whatever their nature may be." The filibusters warmly applauded these remarks, whose truth they recognized. They at length saw the necessity of setting order in their disorder, and entering the great human family, by themselves accepting some of those laws, from which they fancied they had enfranchised themselves for ever, and which are the sole condition of the vitality of society. Under the omnipotent influence of Montbarts and the members of the association of the Twelve, who were scattered about the meeting, the urgent measures were immediately discussed and settled; but when everything was arranged, the council suddenly found itself stopped short by a difficulty of which it had not thought at all--who was to be entrusted with the duty of carrying out the measures, as no buccaneer had a recognized authority over the rest? The difficulty was great; almost insurmountable. Still it was Montbarts who again smoothed down the difficulty to the general satisfaction. "Nothing is more easy," he said, "than to find the man we want; this is an exceptional case, and we must act according to circumstances. Let us elect a chief, as for a dangerous expedition, let us choose one who is energetic and intelligent, which will be a trifle, as the only difficulty will be the choice among so many equally good. This chief will be elected by us, the first for a year, his successor for only six months, in order to guard against any abuse of power they might eventually be attempted to try. This chief will assume the title of governor, and in reality govern all civil matters, assisted by a council of seven members, chosen by the habitants, as well as by subaltern agents, nominated by himself. The laws he will employ exist, for they are those of our association; it is understood that the governor will watch, like a captain aboard his ship, over the safety of the colony, and, in the event of treachery, will be punishable with death. This proposition is, I believe, the only one that we can take into consideration; does it suit you, brothers? Do you accept it?" The delegates replied by a universal affirmation, "In that case let us at once proceed to the election." "Pardon me, brothers," Belle Tête said, "with your permission, I have a few remarks to submit to the council." "Speak, brother, we will hear you," Montbarts answered him. "I offer myself," Belle Tête said frankly, "as governor, not through ambition, for that would be absurd, but because I believe that I am at this moment the best man for the place; you all know me, and hence I will not put forward my qualifications. Certain reasons urge me to try, if possible, to withdraw my promise, and not follow the expedition; to which, however, I feel convinced that I shall render great services, if you choose me as governor." "You have heard, brethren," Montbarts said, "consult together, but fill your glasses first, you have ten minutes to reflect; at the end of that time all the glasses that have not been emptied will be considered as adverse votes." "Ah, traitor," Michael the Basque said, leaning over to Belle Tête's ear, by whose side he was seated, "I know why you want to stop at Port Margot." "You? Stuff," he answered with embarrassment. "Zounds, it is not difficult to guess, you are caught, mate." "Well, it is true, and you are right, that little devil of a woman I bought at St. Kitts has turned my head; she turns me round her little finger." "Ah! love!" Michael said ironically. "The deuce take love, and the woman too; a girl no bigger than that, whom I could smash with one blow." "She is very pretty, you showed good taste; her name is Louise, is it not?" "Yes, Louise; it was a bad bargain I made." "Nonsense!" Michael said, with the utmost seriousness, "well, there is a way of arranging the matter." "Do you think so?" "Zounds, I am sure of it." "I should like to know it, for I confess to you that she has completely upset my ideas; the confounded girl, with her bird's voice, and sly smile, turns me about like a whirligig: by Heaven, I am the most unfortunate of men--tell me your plan, brother." "Why, sell her to me." Belle Tête suddenly turned pale at this blunt offer, which, indeed, settled everything; but which, though he did not suspect it, Michael only made in a joke, and to try him; he frowned, and angrily replied in a voice trembling with emotion, and striking the table with his fist-- "Zounds, mate, that is a magnificent way you have found, but the fiend take me if I accept it; no, no, whatever sorrow the little witch causes me--have I not told you that she has bewitched me?--I love her! Blood and thunder, do you understand that?" "Of course I understand it; but come, reassure yourself, I have not the slightest intention of depriving you of your Louise; what should I do with a wife? Besides, what I have seen of other men's love affairs, does not offer me the slightest inducement to try it on my own account." "All right," Belle Tête replied, reassured by this frank declaration, "that is speaking like a man; and, after all, you are right, brother; although I would not consent for anything in the world to part with my Louise, still, after the experience I have of her, if the bargain was to be made again, hang me if I would purchase her." "Stuff!" said Michael, with a shrug of his shoulders, "Men always say that, and when the moment arrives, they never fail to begin the same folly over again." Belle Tête reflected for a moment, and then tapped Michael amicably on the shoulder, at the same time saying with a laugh-- "On my word that is true, brother; you are right, I believe that I should really behave as you say." "I am certain of it," Michael replied, with another shrug of his shoulders. During this aside, between the two adventurers, the ten minutes had elapsed. "Brethren," said Montbarts, "we are about to proceed to an examination of the votes." He looked: all the glasses were empty. "You are unanimous," he said, "and that is well. Brother Belle Tête, you are elected governor of Port Margot." "Brethren," the latter said, bowing all round, "I thank you for having given me your votes. I shall not deceive your expectations; our colony, even though I was obliged to bury myself beneath its ruins, shall never fall into the hands of the Spaniards, and you know me well enough not to doubt my oath. I intend to set to work this very day; for, as our admiral has very justly said, we have not a moment to lose. Confide the duty of guarding your interests to me." "Before we separate," said Montbarts, "it would be as well, I fancy, to agree to keep our deliberations secret for a few days." "You may divulge them tomorrow without danger," Belle Tête continued; "but allow me, brethren, to choose from among you the few assistants I shall require." "Do so," the filibusters answered. Belle Tête named eight adventurers, whose blind bravery he knew, and then addressed the delegates for the last time, who were already rising and preparing to leave the ship. "You remember, I trust that I am considered by you the leader of an expedition." "Yes," they replied. "Consequently you owe me the most perfect obedience to all the orders I shall give you in the common interest." "Yes," they repeated. "You swear, then, to obey me without any hesitation or murmuring?" "We do." "Very good; now farewell for the present, brothers." The boats had been recalled by a flag hoisted at the main yard, and a few minutes after all the delegates had left the ship, except Belle Tête and the eight officers chosen by him. Montbarts and Belle Tête remained shut up for some hours, doubtless settling the measures which must be adopted in order to obtain the desired result as soon as possible; then, a little before sunset, the new Governor took leave of the Admiral, entered a boat prepared expressly for him, and returned ashore, followed by his officers. About eleven o'clock in the evening, when the town appeared completely asleep, when all doors were shut, and lights extinguished, an observer in a position to see what was going on, would have noticed a strange spectacle. Armed men glided gently out of the houses, casting inquiring glances to the right and left, that seemed trying to pierce the profound darkness by which they were surrounded. They proceeded separately on tiptoe to the principal square, where they joined other men armed like themselves, who, having arrived first, were waiting. Ere long the number of these men, which was augmented every moment, became considerable; at an order, given in a low voice, they broke up into several parties, left the square by different outlets, went out of the town, and formed a wide circle all round it. One last band of about forty men had remained in the square, however; this party was broken up in its turn, but, instead of also leaving the town, platoons, composed of ten men each, went from the square in four different directions, and entered the streets. The latter were proceeding to pay domiciliary visits; no house escaped their vigilance, they entered all, searching them with the most scrupulous exactness, sounding the walls and flooring, and even opening cupboards and chests. Such minute researches necessarily occupied a long time, and did not terminate till sunrise. Eight Spanish spies had been discovered in the houses, and three arrested by the sentries at the moment when they attempted flight, or eleven in all. The Governor had them temporarily put in irons aboard the lugger, so that they could not escape. At sunrise, buccaneers, habitants, engagés, and filibusters, all armed with spades, pickaxes, and hatchets, set about digging a trench round the town. This job, which was performed with extraordinary ardor, lasted three days; the trench was twelve feet wide, by fifteen deep, and the earth was thrown up on the side of the town; on this _talus_ stakes were planted, bound together with strong iron bands, embrasures being left to place guns, and for loopholes. While the entire population thus laboured with the feverish ardor that accomplishes prodigies, large clearings had been effected in the woods surrounding the port; then the forest was fired, care being taken that the fire should not extend beyond a demi-league in all directions. These gigantic works, which, in ordinary times, would demand a lengthened period, were finished at the end of ten days, which would seem incredible were not the fact stated in several records worthy of belief. Port Margot was thus, thanks to the energy of its Governor, and the passive obedience with which the filibusters executed his orders, not only protected against a _coup de main_, but also rendered capable of resisting a regular siege. And this had been effected with such secrecy, that nothing had transpired abroad; and owing to the precautions taken at the outset, the Spaniards had no suspicion of the change so menacing to them, and which presaged an internecine war. When the fortifications were finished, the Governor had eleven gallows erected, at a certain distance from each other, on the glacis. The unhappy Spanish spies were suspended from them, and their bodies were fastened to the gallows by iron chains, so that, as Belle Tête said, with an ill-omened smile, the sight of the corpses might terrify those of their compatriots, who might be tempted to follow their example, and introduce themselves into the town. All the habitants were then convoked in the chief square, and Belle Tête mounted a platform erected for the purpose, and announced to them the determinations formed aboard the lugger, his nomination to the post of Governor, the measures he had thought it his duty to take for the general welfare, and ended by asking their approbation. This approbation the inhabitants most willingly granted, because they found themselves in presence of accomplished facts, which did not in any way injure them. The Governor, thus finding his undertakings sanctioned, invited the inhabitants to nominate a council of seven members chosen from among themselves; and this proposition they joyfully accepted, because they justly anticipated that these councillors would defend their interests. The seven municipal councillors were therefore elected at once, and, by the Governor's invitation, took their seat by his side on the platform. Then the Governor informed his audience that nothing was changed in the colony, which would continue to be governed by the laws in force among the filibusters, that everyone would live in the same liberty as in the past, and that the measures taken were solely intended to protect the interests of all, and in no way to annoy the colonists, or subject them to a humiliating yoke. This final assurance produced the best effect on the crowd, and the Governor retired, amid shouts and the warmest protestations of devotion. Although Montbarts had chosen to remain obstinately in the background, all these ameliorations were solely due to him; Belle Tête had merely been a passive and submissive agent in his hands. When the Admiral, saw matters in the state he desired, he resolved to depart, and after a final interview with the Governor, he placed himself at the head of his filibusters, and left the town. Michael the Basque had departed several hours previously, entrusted with a secret mission, and accompanied by ninety resolute men. From this moment the expedition commenced; but what its result would be no one could as yet foretell. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE FLIGHT FROM THE HATTO. Without taking the time to peruse the letters that were handed him, Don Sancho concealed them in his doublet, and proceeded hastily to his sister's apartment. She was anxiously awaiting him. "Here you are at last, brother," she exclaimed on perceiving him. "What," the young man replied, as he kissed her hand, "were you expecting me?" "Oh, yes, that I was; but you are very late--what has kept you so long?" she asked, in agitation. "Where have I been? Why, s'death! I have been hunting, the only pleasure allowed a gentleman in this horrible country." "What, at this hour?" "Zounds, my dear Clara, a man gets home when he can, especially in this country, where we ought to feel very happy at reaching home again at all." "You are speaking in enigmas, brother, and I do not at all understand you; be kind enough, therefore, to explain yourself clearly--have you fallen into bad company?" "Yes, and very bad, too; but forgive me, my dear Clara, if you have no objection, let us proceed regularly. You desired to see me immediately on my return, and here I am at your orders; be kind enough, therefore, to tell me how I can possibly be of service to you, and then I will narrate the series of singular events with which my today's sport has been diversified. I will not hide from you that I have certain questions to ask of you, and certain explanations, which I feel sure you will not refuse to give me." "What do you mean, Sancho?" "Nothing at present; do you speak first, sister." "Well, if you insist on it--" "I do not insist at all, sister--I only request it." "Very good, I yield to your request; I have received several letters." "So I have; but I confess that I have not read them yet, and do not think they are of any great importance." "I have read mine, and do you know what they tell me beside other news?" "Indeed, no, unless it be my appointment to the post of Alcade Mayor of Hispaniola, which, I allow, would greatly surprise me," he said, laughingly. "Do not jest so, Sancho; the matter is very serious." "Really? In that case speak, little sister. You see I have as solemn a face as your dear husband." "It is exactly to him I refer." "Stuff! My brother-in-law? Has any accident happened to him in the performance of his noble and wearisome duties?" "No, on the contrary, he is in better health than usual." "In that case, all the better for him; I wish him no harm, though he is the most fastidious gentleman of my acquaintance." "Will you listen to me--yes or no?" she asked, impatiently. "Why, I am doing so, dear sister." "You are really insupportable." "Come, do not be angry--I have done; I will not laugh anymore." "Have you seen the two Fifties encamped in front of the hatto?" "Yes, and I must allow that I was greatly surprised to see them." "You will be much more surprised on hearing that my husband is coming here." "He? Impossible, sister! He did not say a word to me about the journey." "Because it is secret." "Ah, ah!" the young man remarked, with a frown; "And are you sure that he is coming?" "Certain. The person who writes me so was present at his departure, which no one suspects; the courier who brought me the news, and to whom the greatest diligence was recommended, is only a few hours ahead of him." "This is, indeed, serious," the young man muttered. "What is to be done?" "S'death!" the young man replied, carelessly, but gazing fixedly at Doña Clara--"Welcome him." "Oh!" the lady exclaimed, twisting her hands despairingly, "I have been betrayed--he is coming to avenge himself!" "Avenge himself? For what, sister?" She gave him a look of strange significance, and then bent over him. "I am ruined, brother," she said, in a hollow voice, "for this man knows everything, and will kill me." Don Sancho, in spite of himself, was affected by this sorrow; he adored his sister, and felt ashamed of the part he was playing at this moment before her. "And I, too, Clara," he said to her, "know everything." "You! Oh, you are jesting, brother." "No, I am not; I love you, and wish to save you, even if I gave my life to do so: hence, reassure yourself, and do not fix upon me eyes haggard with grief." "What do you know, in heaven's name?" "I know that which probably a traitor, as you called him, has sold to your husband, that is to say, that you left the hatto, went aboard a vessel, which conveyed you to Nevis, and there--" "Oh! Not a word more, brother," she exclaimed as she fell into his arms; "you are really well informed, but I swear to you, brother, in the name of what is most sacred in the world, that, although appearances condemn me, I am innocent." "I know it, sister, and never doubted it; what is your intention, will you await your husband here?" "Never, never! Did I not tell you he would kill me?" "What is to be done then?" "Fly, fly without delay; at once." "But where shall we go?" "How do I know? To the cliff or the forest, live among the wild beasts sooner than remain any longer here." "Very good, we will go, I know where to take you." "You?" "Yes, did I not tell you that sundry accidents happened to me today while hunting?" "So you did; but what has that to do with it?" "A great deal," he interrupted; "the Major-domo, who accompanied me, and I tumbled over an encampment of filibusters." "Ah," she said, turning paler than she had been before. "Yes, and I intend to conduct you to that encampment; besides, one of the buccaneers entrusted me with a message for you." "What do you mean?" "Exactly what I am saying, sister." She appeared to reflect for an instant, and then turned resolutely to the young man. "Well, be it so, brother, let us go to those men, though they are represented as so cruel; perhaps every human feeling has not been extinguished in their hearts, and they will take pity on me." "When shall we go?" "As speedily as possible." "That is true, but the hatto is probably watched and the soldiers have doubtless secret orders, you may be a prisoner without suspecting it, my poor sister; for what other reason would the two Fifties be here?" "Oh! In that case I am lost." "Perhaps there is one way, and the orders given doubtless only affect you; but unfortunately the journey will be long, fatiguing, and beset with numberless perils." "What matter, brother? I am strong, do not be anxious about me." "Very good, we will try; you are absolutely determined on flight?" "Yes, whatever may befall me." "Well then, we will put our trust in heaven, wait for me a moment." The young man left the room and returned a few minutes later, bearing a rather large bundle under his arm. "Here are my page's clothes, I do not know how they happen to be in my possession, but my valet probably placed them in my portmanteau by mistake, for they are new, and I remember that the tailor brought them home a few minutes before my departure from Saint Domingo, but I thank accident for causing it to be so. Dress yourself, wrap yourself up in a cloak, put this hat on your head, I will answer for everything. Besides, this costume is preferable to your woman's clothes for crossing the savannah; mind and not forget to place these pistols and this dagger in your belt, for there is no knowing what may happen." "Thanks brother! I shall be ready in a quarter of an hour." "Good; during that time I will go and reconnoitre; do not open the door to anyone but me." "You may depend upon me." The young man lit a cigarette and left the apartment with the most careless air he could assume. On entering the zaguán, the Count found himself face to face with the Major-domo. Señor Birbomono had such an anxious look that it did not escape Don Sancho; still he continued to advance, pretending not to notice it. But the Major-domo came straight up to him. "I am glad to meet you, Excellency," he said, "if you had not come within ten minutes, I should have knocked at the door of your apartment." "Ah!" Don Sancho observed, "What pressing motive was there to urge you to such a step?" "Is your Excellency aware of what is taking place?" the Major-domo continued, without appearing to notice the young man's ironical tone. "What! Is there really anything happening?" "Does not your Excellency know it?" "Probably not, as I ask you; after all, as the news, I am sure, interests me but very slightly, you are quite at liberty not to tell it to me." "On the contrary, Excellency, it interests you as well as all the inhabitants of the hatto." "Oh! oh! What is it then?" "It appears that the commander of the two Fifties, has placed sentries all round the hatto." "Very good, in that case, we need not fear being attacked by the buccaneers, of whom you are so afraid, and I will thank the commandant for it." "You are at liberty to do so, Excellency, but I fancy you will find it difficult." "Why so?" "Because orders are given to let anyone enter the hatto but nobody leave it." A shudder ran through the young man's veins on hearing this; he turned frightfully pale, but recovering himself almost immediately, remarked carelessly, "Stuff! that order cannot affect me." "Pardon me, Excellency, it is general." "In that case, you think that, if I tried to go out--" "You would be stopped." "Confound it, that is very annoying, not that I have any intention of going out, but as by my character, I am very fond of doing things which are prohibited--" "You would like to take a walk, I suppose, Excellency?" Don Sancho looked at Birbomono, as if trying to read his thoughts. "And suppose such were my intention?" he resumed presently. "I would undertake to get you out." "You?" "Yes, I; am I not the Major-domo of the hatto?" "That is true; thus, the prohibition does not extend to you?" "To me, as to the rest, Excellency; but the soldiers do not know the hatto as I know; I could Slip between their fingers, whenever I liked." "I have strong inclination to try it." "Do so, Excellency; I have three horses at a spot where no one but myself could find them." "Why, three horses?" the young man asked, pricking up his ears. "Because, doubtless, you do not wish to ride with me only, but will take someone with you." Don Sancho, understanding that the Major-domo had penetrated his thoughts, made up his mind at once. "Let us play fairly," he said, "can you be faithful." "I am so, and devoted too, Excellency, as you have a proof." "What assures me that you are not laying a trap for me?" "With what object?" "That of obtaining a reward from the Count." "No, Excellency, no reward would induce me to betray my mistress; I may be anything you please, but I love Doña Clara, who has always been kind to me, and has often protected me." "I am willing to believe you, and indeed have no time to discuss the point, but here are my conditions: a bullet through the head if you betray me, a thousand piastres if you are faithful; do you accept them?" "I do, Excellency, the thousand piastres are gained." "You know that I do not threaten in vain." "I know you." "Very good, what must we do?" "Follow me, that is all; our flight will be most easy, for I prepared everything on my return; I had my suspicions on seeing those demons of soldiers, suspicions which were soon changed into certainty, after some skilful inquiries here and there; my devotion to my mistress rendered me clear sighted, and you see that I acted wisely in taking my precautions." The accent with which the Major-domo pronounced these words, had such a stamp of truth, his face was so frank and open, that the young Count's last suspicions were dissipated. "Wait for me," he said, "I will go and fetch my sister." And he hurried away. "Oh!" said Birbomono, with a grin, so soon as he was alone, "I do not know whether Señor don Stenio de Bejar will be pleased at seeing his wife escape in this way, when he felt so certain of holding her; poor señora! She is so good to us all, that it would be infamous to betray her, and then, after all, this is a good deed which brings me one thousand piastres," he added, rubbing his hands, "that is a very decent amount." It was about eleven o'clock at night, all the lights in the hatto were extinguished by orders of the Major-domo, who had provided for everything; the slaves had been dismissed to their huts, and a solemn silence brooded over the landscape, a silence solely interrupted at regular intervals, by the sentries who challenged each other in a monotonous voice. Don Sancho soon returned, accompanied by his sister, wrapped up like himself, in a long mantle. Doña Clara did not speak, but on joining the Major-domo, she gracefully held out her right hand to him, on which he respectfully impressed his lips. Although the officers had told the soldiers to keep a good guard, and watch carefully, not only the hatto, but its environs, the latter, slightly reassured by the darkness on one hand, and on the other, by the gloomy and mysterious depths of the forests that surrounded them, stood motionless behind the trees, contenting themselves with responding to the challenge, every half hour, but not venturing to go even a few yards from the shelter they had chosen. The reasons for this apparent cowardice, were simple, and although we have explained them, we will repeat them here, for the sake of greater clearness. In the early times of the buccaneers landing on Saint Domingo, the Fifties sent by the governor in pursuit of them, were armed with muskets; but after several encounters with the French, in which the latter gave them an awful thrashing, their terror of the adventurers became so great that, whenever they were sent on an expedition against these men, whom they almost regarded as demons, no sooner did they enter the forests, or the mountain gorges, or even the savannahs, where they might suppose the buccaneers to be ambushed, than they began to fire their pieces right and left, for the purpose of warning the enemies, and inducing them to withdraw. The result of this clever manoeuvre was that the adventurers, thus warned, decamped in reality, and thus became intangible; the governor noticing this result, eventually guessed its cause, and hence, in order to avoid such a thing in future, he took the muskets away from the soldiers and substituted lances. This change, let us hasten to add, was not at all to the liking of these brave soldiers, who thus saw their ingenious scheme foiled, and were even more exposed to the blows of their formidable enemies. It was almost without being obliged to take any other precaution than that of walking noiselessly and not speaking, that the Major-domo and the two persons he served as guide, succeeded in quitting the hatto on the opposite side to that on which the Fifties had established their bivouac. Once the line of sentries was passed, the fugitives hurried on more rapidly, and soon reached a thicket in the midst of which three fully accoutred horses were so thoroughly hidden that unless known to be there, it would have been impossible to find them; for a greater precaution, and to prevent them from neighing, the Major-domo had fastened a cord round their nostrils. So soon as the three were mounted, and before starting, Birbomono turned to Don Sancho,-- "Where are we going, Excellency?" he asked. "Do you know the spot where the buccaneers we met today are bivouacked?" the young man replied. "Yes, Excellency." "Do you think you could succeed in finding the bivouac in the midst of the darkness?" The Major-domo smiled. "Nothing is more easy," he said. "In that case lead us to those men." "Very good; but, Excellency, be good enough not press your horse on at present, for we are still near the house, and the slightest imprudence would be sufficient to give an alarm." "Do you think, then, that they would venture to pursue us?" "Separately, certainly not; but as they are so numerous, they would not hesitate; the less so, because from what I heard them say, they feel certain that the buccaneers have never come into these parts. This redoubles their bravery, and they would perhaps not be sorry to furnish a proof of it at our expense." "Excellent reasoning; regulate our pace, therefore, as you think proper, and we will only act in accordance with your judgment." They set out; with the exception of the precautions they were obliged to take not to be discovered, the journey had nothing disagreeable about it, on a bright and perfumed night, beneath a sky studded with brilliant stars, and in the midst of a most delightful scenery, whose slightest diversities the transparency of the atmosphere allowed to be seen. After an hour spent in a moderate trot, their pace became insensibly more rapid, and the horses growing gradually more excited, eventually broke into a gallop, at which their riders kept them for a considerable period. Doña Clara bent over her horse's neck, and with her eyes eagerly fixed ahead, seemed to upbraid the slowness of this ride, which, however, had assumed the headlong speed of a pursuit: at times she leant over to her brother, who constantly kept by her side, and asked him in a choking voice-- "Shall we soon arrive?" "Yes, have patience, sister," the young man said, suppressing a sigh of pity for the agony which preyed on his sister's heart. And their pace grew more rapid than ever. The stars were already expiring in the heavens, the atmosphere was growing refreshed, the horizon was striped by long mother-o'-pearl coloured bands, a light sea breeze brought up to the travellers its alkaline odours, and the night had passed. Suddenly, at the moment when the three riders were about to emerge from a thick wood, in which they had been following a track made by the wild cattle for nearly an hour, the Major-domo, who was a few yards ahead, pulled up his horse and leant back. "Stop, in Heaven's name!" he exclaimed, in a low voice. The young couple obeyed, though they did not comprehend this order. The Major-domo went up to them. "Look!" he muttered, and stretched out his arm toward the savannah. A rapid gallop, that drew nearer every second, but which the noise of their own march had prevented them from hearing, now smote their ears, and almost at the same moment they saw through the screen of foliage which hid them from sight, several horsemen pass as if borne along by a hurricane. A branch struck off the hat of one of the riders as he passed. "Don Stenio!" Doña Clara exclaimed in horror. "Zounds!" Don Sancho said, "We were just in time." CHAPTER XXIX. EVENTS ACCUMULATE. The horsemen had continued their wild course without perceiving the fugitives: one of them, indeed, at the cry uttered by Doña Clara, had made a gesture as if to stop his steed, but doubtless supposing that he had been mistaken, he followed his companions after a moment's hesitation, which was very fortunate for him, as Don Sancho had already drawn a pistol, with the resolution of blowing out his brains. For some minutes the fugitives remained motionless, anxiously listening to the galloping of the horses, whose sound rapidly retired, and was soon lost in the distance, when it became confounded with the other noises of the night. Then they breathed again, and Don Sancho put back in his holster the pistol which he had held in his hand up to this moment. "Hum!" he muttered; "Only the thickness of a bush saved us from being discovered." "Heaven be thanked!" Doña Clara said; "We are saved!" "That is to say, my little sister, we are not caught," the young man replied, incapable of maintaining his seriousness for five minutes, however grave circumstances might be. "They are going at a tremendous pace," the Major-domo now remarked; "we have nothing more to fear from them." "In that case, let us be off," Don Sancho replied. "Yes, yes, let us go," Doña Clara murmured. They dashed out of the thicket which had offered them so sure a protection, and entered the plain. The sky became lighter every moment; and although the sun was still beneath the horizon, its influence was beginning to be felt. Nature appeared to shake off her nocturnal sleep; some birds were already awake under the soft leaves, and preluding, by soft twittering, their matin chant; the dark outlines of savage animals bounded through the tall dew-laden grass; and the birds of prey, expanding their mighty wings, rose high in æther, as if they wished to go and meet the sun, and salute its advent: in a word, it was no longer night, without being fully day. "Ah! What I do see at the foot of that mound?" Don Sancho suddenly said. "Where?" Birbomono asked. "There, straight in front of us." The Major-domo placed his hands over his eyes, and looked attentively. "_¡Viva Dios!_" he exclaimed, at the end of a moment, "It is a man!" "A man?" "On my word, yes, Excellency; and, as far as I can distinguish at this distance, a Carib savage." "Zounds! What is he doing on that mound?" "We shall be able to assure ourselves of that more easily directly, unless he thinks proper to keep out of our way." "Well, let us go to him, in Heaven's name." "Brother," Doña Clara objected, "what is the use of lengthening our journey, when we are so hurried?" "That is true," the young man said. "Reassure yourself, señora," the Major-domo observed; "that hillock is exactly on the road we must follow, and we cannot help passing it." Doña Clara said no more, and the trio set out again. They soon reached the mound, which they ascended at a gallop. The Carib had not quitted the spot, but the riders stopped in stupor on perceiving that he was not alone. The Indian, kneeling on the ground, appearing to be attending to a man stretched out before him, and who was beginning to regain his senses. "Fray Arsenio!" Doña Clara exclaimed at the sight of this man. "Great Heavens! He is dead!" "No," the Indian answered in a gentle voice, as he turned to her, "but he has been most horribly tortured." "He! Tortured?" his hearers exclaimed, unanimously. "Look at his hands," the Carib continued. The Spaniards uttered a cry of horror and pity at the sight of the poor monk's bleeding and swollen thumbs. "Oh, it is frightful!" they murmured, sadly. "Wretch," Don Sancho said in his indignation, "you have brought him to this state!" The Carib shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. "The paleface is mad!" he replied; "My brothers do not torture the chiefs of prayer--they respect them. White men, like himself, have inflicted this atrocious punishment upon him." "Explain yourself, in Heaven's name," Doña Clara continued; "how is it that we find this worthy monk here in such a pitiable state?" "It will be better to let him explain himself when he has regained his senses. Omopoua knows but little." "That is true," Doña Clara said, as she dismounted and knelt by the side of the wounded man. "Poor fellow! What frightful suffering he must be enduring." "Can you not tell us anything, then?" Don Sancho asked. "Almost nothing," the chief replied, "this is all that I know." And he narrated in what way the monk had been confided to him, and how he had served as his guide, till they met the white men, when the monk discharged him for the purpose of joining them. "But," he added, "I know not why, some secret foreboding seemed to warn me not to leave him: hence, instead of going away I hid myself in the shrubs, and witnessed, unseen, the tortures they had him undergo, while insisting on his revealing to them a secret, which he refused to divulge. Conquered by his constancy, they at length abandoned him half dead. Then I rushed from my hiding place, and flew to his help. That is all I know; I am a chief, I have no forked tongue, and a falsehood has never sullied the lips of Omopoua." "Forgive me, Chief, the improper language I used at the first moment; I was blinded by anger and sorrow," said Don Sancho, holding out his hand. "The paleface is young," the chief replied with a smile; "his tongue moves more quickly than his heart;" then he took the hand so frankly offered him, and pressed it cordially. "Oh, oh!" the Major-domo said, with a shake of his head, and leaning over to Don Sancho's ear, "If I am not greatly mistaken, Don Stenio is mixed up in this affair." "It is not possible," Don Sancho replied, with horror. "You do not know your brother-in-law, Excellency; his is a weak nature, and all such are cruel; believe me, I am certain of what I state." "No, no, it would be too frightful." "Good Heaven," Doña Clara said, at this moment, "we cannot remain here any longer, and yet I should not like to abandon the poor man." "Let us take him with us," Don Sancho quickly remarked. "But will his wounds permit him to endure the fatigue of a long ride?" "We are almost at our journey's end," the Major-domo said, and then, turning to the Carib, added-- "We are going to the bivouac of the two buccaneers, who were hunting on the savannah yesterday." "Very good;" said the chief, "I will lead the palefaces by a narrow road, and they will arrive ere the sun reaches the edges of the horizon." Doña Clara and her brother remounted. The monk was cautiously placed in front of the Major-domo, and the small party set out again at a foot pace, under the guidance of the Carib chief. Poor Fray Arsenio gave no other signs of existence but deep sighs, which at intervals heaved his chest, and stifled groans torn from him by suffering. At the end of three quarters of an hour they reached the boucan, by the near cut, which Omopoua indicated to them. It was empty, but not deserted, as was proved by the bull hides, still stretched out on the ground, and held down by pegs, and the boucaned meat suspended from the forks of the branches. The adventurers were probably away, hunting. The travellers were considerably annoyed by this contretemps, but Omopoua relieved them of their embarrassment. "The palefaces need not be anxious," he said, "the chief will warn his friends, the white _franiis_--in their absence the paler faces can use, without fear, everything they find here." And, joining example to precept, the Carib prepared a bed of dry leaves, which he covered with skins, and, with the Major-domo's aid, carefully laid the wounded man upon it; then he lit a fire, and after, for the last time repeating to the fugitives the assurance that they had nothing to fear, he went off, gliding like a snake through the tall grass. The Major-domo, who was tolerably well acquainted with the manners of the adventurers, with whom he had had some relations, though always against his will, for, brave though he was, or boasted of being, they inspired him with a superstitious terror--reassured the others as to their position, by declaring to them, that hospitality was so sacred with the buccaneers, that, if they were their most inveterate foes instead of quasi guests, as they had only come on their formal invitation, they would have nothing to apprehend from them. In the meanwhile, thanks to the attention which Doña Clara had not ceased to bestow on him, the poor monk had returned to his senses. Although very weak at first, he gradually regained sufficient strength to impart to Doña Clara all that happened to him since their separation. This narration, whose conclusion coincided in the minutest details with that previously made by the Carib, plunged Doña Clara into a state of stupefaction, which soon changed into horror, when she reflected on the terrible dangers that menaced her. In truth, what help could she expect? Who would dare to protect her against her husband, whose high position and omnipotence would annihilate every effort she might make to escape from his vengeance. "Courage," the monk murmured, with a tender commiseration, "courage, my daughter, above man there is God. Have confidence in Him; He will not abandon you: and if everything fail you, He will come to your assistance, and interfere in your favour." Doña Clara, in spite of her perfect faith in the power of Providence, only replied to this consolation by tears and sobs; she felt herself condemned. Don Sancho was hurriedly walking up and down in the front of the ajoupa, twisting his moustache, stamping his foot passionately, and revolving in his head the maddest projects. "Bah," he muttered, at last, "if that demon will not listen to reason, I will blow out his brains, and that will settle everything." And highly pleased at having, after so many vain researches, discovered this expeditious mode of saving his sister from the violence, which the desire of vengeance would probably suggest to Don Stenio, the young man lit a cigarette, and patiently awaited the return of the buccaneers, feeling now quite calm and perfectly reassured about the future. The Major-domo, who was almost indifferent as to what was going on around him, and delighted with the hope of the promised thousand piastres, had turned the time to a good use. Reflecting that on their return, the buccaneers, doubtless, would not be sorry to find their breakfast ready, he had placed in front of the fire an iron pot, in which he placed an enormous lump of meat, to boil, with a reasonable quantity of water; in lieu of bread, he had thrust several ignamas under the ashes, and then busied himself with preparing the pimentado, that absolutely necessary sauce for every buccaneer meal. The fugitives had held possession of the boucan for nearly an hour and a half, when they heard furious barking, and some twenty dogs rushed howling toward them: but a sharp, though still distant whistle recalled them, and they went off again as quickly as they had come. A few minutes later, the Spaniards perceived the two buccaneers; they were running up with a surprising speed, although both bore a load weighing upwards of a hundredweight, and were in addition embarrassed by their weapons and hunting equipment. Their first care, on arriving at the boucan, was to throw on the ground the eight or ten fresh bull hides, till reeking with blood and grease, which they brought, and they then advanced toward the strangers, who, on their side, had risen to receive them. The dogs, as if they had understood that they must maintain a strict neutrality, were lying on the grass, but kept their flashing eyes fixed on the Spaniards, probably ready to spring at their throat upon the first signal. "You are welcome at the ajoupa," Lepoletais said, doffing his hat with a politeness that could hardly have been expected on seeing his rough appearance. "So long as you like to remain here, you will be regarded as our brothers; whatever we possess is yours, dispose of it as you think proper, as well as of our arms, should an occasion offer for you to demand our help." "I thank you in the name of my companions, caballero, and accept your kind proposal," Doña Clara answered. "A woman!" Lepoletais exclaimed, in surprise, "Pardon me, Madam, for not recognizing you at once." "I am, caballero, Doña Clara de Bejar, to whom, as I was informed, you have a letter to deliver." "In that case doubly welcome, madam; as for the note in question, I have not the charge of it, but my comrade." "Zounds," L'Olonnais exclaimed, who had gone up to the wounded man, "Omopoua certainly told us that this poor devil of a monk had been almost dismasted, but I did not expect to find him in so pitiable a state." "Well," Lepoletais remarked with a frown, "I am not a very religious man, but hang me if I should not hesitate to treat a monk in this way; only a pagan is capable of committing such a crime." Then, with a truly filial attention, which the Spaniards admired, the rude adventurer set to work, offering some relief to the wounded man's intolerable sufferings, in which he entirely succeeded, owing to a long practice in treating wounds of every description, and Fray Arsenio soon fell into an invigorating sleep. During this time L'Olonnais had handed to Doña Clara the letter which Montbarts had entrusted to him for her, and the young lady had withdrawn a little for the purpose of reading it. "Come, come," L'Olonnais said gaily, as he tapped the Major-domo's shoulder, "that is what I call a sensible lad, he has thought of the substantials; breakfast is ready." "If that be the case," Lepoletais said, with a significant wink to his comrade; "we will eat double tides, for we shall have work before long." "Shall we not wait the return of the Indian chief?" Don Sancho asked. "For what purpose?" L'Olonnais said, with a laugh. "Do not trouble yourself about him, my gentleman: he is a long way off if he is still running. Each of us has his work cut out for him." "I don't care!" Lepoletais remarked. "You had a deuced fine scent, Señor, in responding to our invitation so quickly!" "Why so?" "You will soon know. But now take my advice--recruit your strength by eating." At this moment Doña Clara rejoined the party. Her demeanour was firmer, and her face almost gay. The table was soon laid--leaves serving for plates. They sat down to it, that is to say, they formed a circle on the ground, and bravely assailed the provisions. Don Sancho had resumed all his gaiety. This life appeared to him delightful, and he laughed heartily, while eating with a good appetite. Doña Clara herself, in spite of her inward preoccupation, did honour to this improvised banquet. "Up! my darlings," Lepoletais had said to his dogs. "Tally ho! No idleness, but go and watch the approaches while we are breakfasting. Your share shall be kept." The dogs had risen with admirable obedience, and turning their backs on the boucans, scattered in all directions, and speedily disappeared. "Yours are first-rate dogs," said Don Sancho. "You Spaniards are good judges of that," the buccaneer replied, mockingly. The gentleman felt the sting, and did not deem it advisable to dwell on the subject. In fact, it was at Saint Domingo that the Spaniards inaugurated the frightful custom of training bloodhounds to hunt the Indians, and employing them as auxiliaries in their wars. The breakfast was concluded without any fresh incident worthy of remark, and the most perfect cordiality prevailed during the repast. When the masters had finished, it was the turn of the servants; that is to say, L'Olonnais whistled up the dogs, which in an instant were collected round him, and gave them their share in equal portions. The buccaneers, leaving their guests, and at liberty to employ their time as they thought proper, were soon actively busied in preparing their hides. Several hours passed in this way. About three in the afternoon a dog barked, and then held its tongue. We have forgotten to state that, after their meal, the dogs returned to their posts at a signal from the engagé. The two buccaneers exchanged a glance. "One!" said L'Olonnais. "Two!" Lepoletais almost immediately answered on a second bark, which broke out in a different direction. Ere long, like an electric current, the challenges of the hounds succeeded each other with extreme rapidity, raised in all directions. Still, nothing seemed to justify these warnings given by the sentries. No suspicious sound could be heard, and the savannah seemed to be plunged into the most perfect solitude. "I beg your pardon, caballero," Don Sancho said to Lepoletais, who continued his task with the same ardor, while laughing merrily with his comrade; "but will you permit me to ask you a question?" "Do so, do so, my good gentleman. It is at times well to ask questions: besides, if the question does not suit me, I shall be at liberty not to answer it, I suppose?" "Oh! Of course." "In that case, speak without fear." "For some minutes past your dogs seem to have been giving you signals--or, at least, I suppose so?" "You suppose right, caballero. They are really signals." "And would there be any indiscretion in asking you the meaning of the signals?" "Not the least in the world, señor, especially as they interest you quite as much as us." "I do not understand you." "You will soon do so. These signals signify that the savannah is at this moment invaded by several Fifties, which are manoeuvring to surround us." "_¡Diablos!_" the young man exclaimed, with a start of surprise: "And you do not feel more affected than that?" "Why anticipate anxiety? My comrade and I had a pressing job which we were obliged to finish. Now that it is done, we are going to turn our attention to the señores." "But we cannot possibly resist so many enemies?" "Ah! Ah! Do you really feel inclined for a brush?" "S'death! My sister and I are incurring quite as much danger as you, and we have not a minute to lose in attempting flight." "Flight?" the buccaneer said, with a grin; "Nonsense! You must be laughing, my gentleman: we are enclosed in an impassable circle--or what looks so." "In that case, we are lost." "How you go on! On the contrary, they are lost." "They? Why, we are only four against a hundred." "You are mistaken. There are two hundred; and that makes fifty for each of us. Call in the dogs, L'Olonnais; they are now useless. Stay! Look there; can you see them?" And he stretched his arm out straight ahead. In fact, the long lances of the Spanish soldiers appeared above the tall grass. Lepoletais had told the truth. These lances formed a circle, which was being more and more contracted round the boucan. "Come! That is rather neat," the buccaneer added, as he affectionately tapped the butt of his long fusil. "Señora," he added, "keep by the side of the wounded man." "Oh! Let me give myself up," she exclaimed, frantically. "It is on my account that this terrible danger menaces you." "Señora," the buccaneer replied, as he struck his chest with a gesture of supreme majesty; "you are under the safeguard of my honour, and I swear by Heaven, that no one, so long as I live, shall dare to lay a finger upon you! Go to the wounded man." Involuntarily subdued by the accent with which the buccaneer uttered these words, Doña Clara bowed without replying, and pensively seated herself inside the ajoupa, by the side of Fray Arsenio, who was still asleep. "Now, caballero," Lepoletais said to Don Sancho, "if you have never been present at a buccaneering expedition, I promise you you are going to see some fun, and enjoy yourself." "Well," the young man replied, recklessly; "I will fight, if I must. It is a glorious death for a gentleman, to die sword in hand!" "Come," said the buccaneer, as he gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder; "you are a fine lad. Something can be made of you." The Fifties still approached, and the circle grew more and more contracted. CHAPTER XXX. THE EXTERMINATOR. For some minutes a mournful silence--a complete calm, which, however, was loaded with menace, hung heavily over the savannah. At a whistle from the engagé, the dogs ranged themselves behind their masters, with heads down, lips drawn back to display their sharp teeth, and flashing eyes, they awaited the order to rush forward, though without giving the slightest bark or growl. L'Olonnais, leaning on his long fusil, was smoking his pipe quietly, while casting sarcastic glances around. Lepoletais occupied himself with the utmost order in arranging various articles which had been deranged during his morning's operations. The Major-domo, though in his heart he felt very anxious as to the result of this apparently so disproportionate combat, was obliged to grin and bear it--to use a familiar expression; for he was aware that if he fell into the hands of his master, he had no mercy to expect from him, after the manner in which he had thwarted his projects, by favouring the flight of the Countess. Don Sancho de Peñaflor, in spite of his natural levity and warlike character, was not without anxiety either, for, as an officer of the Spanish army, his place was not in the ranks of the buccaneers, but with the soldiers who were preparing to attack them. Doña Clara, kneeling by the side of the monk, with clasped hands, eyes raised to heaven, and face inundated with tears, was fervently imploring the protection of the Almighty. As for Fray Arsenio, he was quietly sleeping. Such was the picturesque aspect, imposing in its simplicity, offered at this moment by the camp of the adventurers. Four men were preparing coolly, and as if for the mere fun of the thing, to contend against upwards of two hundred regular troops, from whom they knew that they had no quarter to expect, but whom their insane resistance would probably exasperate, and urge to measures of cruel violence. In the meanwhile the circle was more and more contracted, and the heads of the soldiers were already beginning to appear above the tall grass. "Ah, ah!" said Lepoletais, rubbing his horney hands together with an air of triumph--"I fancy it is time to open the ball; what do you say, my boy?" "Yes, this is the right moment," the engagé replied, as he went to fetch a log from the fire. "Mind not to stir from the spot where you are," Lepoletais recommended the two Spaniards: "zounds! pay attention to this, or you will run a risk of having your goose cooked," and he laid a stress on the last words, with an evidently sarcastic meaning. The buccaneers, before establishing their bivouac, had pulled up the grass for a distance of about thirty paces all around the ajoupa; this grass, dried and calcined by the heat of the sun, had been piled up at the border of the cleared ground. The engagé laid down his fusil, walked straight to this grass, set it on fire, and then slowly returned to rejoin his companions. The effect of this manoeuvre was instantaneous, a jet of flame suddenly burst out, spread in all directions, and soon a large portion of the savannah presented the appearance of a vast furnace. The buccaneers laughed heartily at what they considered an excellent joke. The Spaniards, taken unawares, uttered cries of terror, and rapidly recoiled, pursued by the flame, which constantly spread, and continually advanced toward them. Still, it was evident that the adventurers had no intention of burning the unfortunate Spaniards alive; the fire lit by them had not sufficient consistency for that; the grass burned and went out again with extreme rapidity. Doubtless the sole result that the buccaneers had wished to obtain, was to cause a panic terror to their enemies, and cast disorder among them; and in this they had been perfectly successful. The soldiers, half roasted by the flames, fled, uttering cries of terror before this sea of fire, which seemed incessantly to pursue them, without thinking of looking back, or obeying their officers, and having but one thought, escaping the terrible danger that menaced them. While this was going on Lepoletais coolly explained to Don Sancho the probable results of the expedient he had employed. "You see, Señor," he said, "this blaze is nothing; it is an almost inoffensive straw fire; in a few minutes, or half an hour at the latest, it will be extinguished. If these men are cowards we shall have got rid of them, if not, they will return, and then the affair will be serious." "But, as you recognize the inefficiency of this means, why did you employ it? In my opinion it is more injurious than usual to our defence." The buccaneer shook his head several times. "You do not understand," he said; "I had several motives for acting thus. In the first place, however brave you may suppose your countrymen to be, they are now demoralised, and it will be very difficult to restore them the courage they no longer possess; on the other hand, I was not sorry to see clearly around me, and sweep the savannah a little, and lastly," he added, with a cunning look, "who told you that the fire I lighted was not a signal?" "A signal?" Don Sancho exclaimed; "Then you have friends near here?" "Who knows? Señor, my companions are very active, and are frequently met with when least expected." "I confess that I do not understand a word of what you are saying to me." "Patience, Señor, patience! You will soon understand, I assure you, and will not require any great effort of the intellect to do so. L'Olonnais," he added, turning to his comrade, "I think you had better go down there now." "That is true," L'Olonnais replied, as he carelessly threw his fusil over his shoulder, "he will be expecting me." "Take some of the dogs with you." "What for?" "To guide you, my lad; it is not easy now to find one's way through the ashes, for all the trails are covered." The engagé called several dogs by their name, and went off without replying, followed by a portion of the pack. "There," Lepoletais continued, pointing to the engagé, who seemed to be running, as he went at such a pace, "just look at that fellow, he is a fine chap, eh? And how he behaves, though he has not been more than two months in America; in three years from this time I predict to you that he will be one of our most celebrated adventurers." "Did you buy him?" Don Sancho asked, though but little interested in details which had no importance for him. "Unluckily, no, he has only been lent to me for a few days; he is the engagé of Montbarts the Exterminator: I offered him two hundred piastres for him, but he refused to sell him." "What?" the young man exclaimed--"Montbarts, the celebrated filibuster?" "The very man; he is a friend of mine." "In that case he is close at hand?" "That, Señor, is one of the things which you will learn shortly." As the buccaneer had foreseen, the fire went out almost as quickly as it blazed up, for want of aliment on this savannah, where only grass and a few insignificant shrubs grew. The Spaniards had sought shelter on the banks of the stream, whose barren sand preserved them from contact with the fire. The forests, too remote from the scene of the fire, had not caught, although a few tongues of flame had played round their edge. From the boucan it was easy to perceive the Spanish officers striving to restore some degree of order among their troops, doubtless for the purpose of attempting a new attack, although Lepoletais did not appear at all alarmed. Among the officers one was especially remarkable; he was on horseback, and was taking immense trouble to form the ranks, and the other officers came up in turn to receive his orders. This officer Don Sancho recognized at the first glance. "This is what I feared," he muttered; "the Count has placed himself at the head of the expedition, and we are lost." In truth, it was Don Stenio de Bejar, who, on arriving at the hatto at daybreak, and learning the flight of the Countess, resolved to command the expedition. The position of the adventurers was critical, reduced as they were to three, encamped in the middle of a bare plain, and without entrenchments of any description. Still, the confidence of the buccaneer did not seem diminished, and it was with an ironical air that he examined the preparations the enemy was making against him. The Spaniards, formed again with great difficulty by the energy of their officers, at last started, and proceeded once more toward the boucan, while taking the same precautions as before, that is to say, being careful to extend their front, so as to form a complete circle, and entirely surround the encampment. But the march of the Fifties was slow and measured; it was only with extreme caution that the soldiers ventured on this scarcely cooled ground, which might conceal fresh snares. The Count, pointing to the boucan with his sword, in vain excited his troops to press on, and finish with this handful of scoundrels who dared to oppose His Majesty's troops; the soldiers would not listen, and only advanced with greater caution, for the calmness and apparent negligence of their enemies frightened them more than a hostile demonstration, and must, in their opinion, be owing to some terrible trap laid for them. At this moment the situation was complicated by a strange episode; a canoe crossed the stream, and ran ashore exactly at the spot which the Spaniards had quitted only a few minutes previously. This canoe contained five persons, three adventurers, and two Spaniards. The adventurers stepped ashore as calmly as if they; were quite alone, and pushing the two Spaniards before them, advanced resolutely toward the soldiers. The latter, astonished, confounded at such audacity, watched them coming without daring to make a movement to oppose them. These three adventurers were Montbarts, Michael the Basque, and L'Olonnais, and seven or eight dogs followed them. The two Spaniards walked unarmed in front of them, being alarmed about their fate, as was proved by the pallor of their faces, and the startled glances which they threw around them. The Count, on perceiving the adventurers, uttered a cry of rage, and bounded with uplifted sword to meet them. "Down with the ladrones!" he cried. The soldiers, ashamed of being held in check by three men, wheeled round, and boldly advanced. The adventurers were surrounded in an instant; but, without displaying the slightest surprise at this manoeuvre, they also halted, and standing shoulder to shoulder, faced all sides at once. The soldiers instinctively stopped. "Death!" the Count cried; "No mercy for the ladrones!" "Silence," Montbarts replied; "before menacing, listen to the news these two couriers bring you." "Seize these villains!" the Count yelled again. "Kill them like dogs!" "Nonsense," Montbarts remarked, ironically; "you are mad, my worthy sir. Seize us! Why, I defy you to do it." The three adventurers then emptied their powder flasks into their caps, and placed their bullets on the top of it; then, holding in one hand their caps thus converted into grenades, and in the other their lighted pipes, they waited for the signal. "Attention, brothers," Montbarts said; "and you scoundrels, make way, there, unless you wish us to blow you all up." And with a firm and measured step the three adventurers advanced toward the Spaniards, who were struck with terror, and really opened their ranks to make a passage for them. "Oh!" Montbarts added, with a laugh, "Do not fear that we shall attempt to fly; we only want to join our comrades." Then was witnessed the extraordinary scene of two hundred men timidly following at a respectful distance three filibusters, who, while walking and smoking to keep their pipes from going out, did not cease from jeering them for their cowardice. Lepoletais was quite wild with delight: as for Don Sancho, he did not know whether to feel most astonished at the mad temerity of the French, or the cowardice of his countrymen. The three adventurers thus most easily effected their junction with their companions without having been once disturbed by the Spaniards during a rather long walk. In spite of the prayers and exhortations of the Count to his soldiers, the only thing he obtained from them was, that they continued to advance instead of retreating, as they had a manifest intention of doing. But, while the adventurers thus drew the soldiers after them, and concentrated their entire attention, a thing was happening which the Count perceived when too late, and which began to cause him serious alarm as to the result of his expedition. In the rear of the centre formed by the Spanish soldiers, another circle had been drawn up as if by enchantment, but the latter was composed of buccaneers and red Caribs, at whose head Omopoua made himself remarkable. The adventurers and Indians had manoeuvred with so much intelligence, vivacity, and silence, that the Spaniards were enveloped in a network of steel, even before they had suspected the danger that menaced them. The Count uttered an exclamation of rage, to which the soldiers responded by a cry of terror. The situation was, in fact, extremely critical for the unhappy Spaniards, and unless a miracle occurred, it was literally impossible for them to escape death. In fact they had no longer to contend against a few men, resolute, it is true, but whom numbers must eventually conquer, even at a sacrifice; the filibusters were at least two hundred, and with their allies the Caribs, formed an effective strength of five hundred men, all as brave lions, and three hundred more than the Spaniards; the latter understood that they were lost. On arriving at the boucan, directly that he had squeezed Lepoletais' hand and complimented him on the way in which he had contrived to gain time, Montbarts gravely occupied himself with his comrades, in restoring the powder and bullets to their respective receptacles, as he probably judged that their caps might now be used for their legitimate purpose. While the filibuster was engaged in this occupation, Doña Clara, pale as a corpse, fixed on him burning glances, though she did not venture to approach him. At length she took courage, advanced a few paces and murmured with an effort in a trembling voice and with clasped hands,-- "I am here, sir." Montbarts trembled at the sound of this voice, and turned pale; but he made an effort over himself and softened the rather hard expression of his eye. "I have come solely on your account, Madam," he replied with a polite bow; "I shall have the honour of placing myself at your orders in a moment; permit me first to make sure that our interview will be uninterrupted." Doña Clara hung her head and returned to her seat by the wounded man. The adventurers had continued to advance and were soon scarce ten paces from the Spaniards, whose terror was augmented by this disagreeable vicinity. "Hola, brothers!" Montbarts shouted in a powerful voice; "Halt, if you please." The filibusters instantaneously became motionless. "And now, you fellows," the Admiral continued, addressing the soldiers; "throw down your arms, unless you wish to be immediately shot." All the lances and swords fell on the ground with a unanimity which proved the desire of the soldiers not to have the menace carried into effect. "Surrender your sword, sir," Montbarts said to the Count. "Never!" the latter exclaimed, as he made his horse curvet, and advanced with upraised blade on the adventurer, from whom he was only three paces distant. At the same instant a fusil was discharged and the sword blade, struck within an inch of the guard, was shivered; the Count found himself disarmed. With a sudden movement Montbarts seized the horse's bridle with one hand, and with the other hurled the Count from the saddle and laid him prostrate on the ground. "Patatras!" Lepoletais said laughingly, while reloading his fusil; "What a deuced funny idea to try alone to resist five hundred men." The Count rose quite confused by his fall; a livid pallor covered his face, and his features were contracted by anger; all at once his eyes fell upon the Countess. "Ah!" He yelled with the cry of a tiger, as he darted towards her, "At least I shall avenge myself." But Montbarts seized him by the arm and rendered him motionless. "One word, one gesture, and I blow out your brains like the wild beast you are," he said to him. There was such an accent of menace in the filibuster's words; his interference had been so rapid that the Count, involuntarily cowed, fell back with his arms folded on his chest and remained apparently calm, although a volcano was at work in his heart, and his eyes were obstinately fixed on the Countess. Montbarts gazed for a moment at his enemy with an expression of pity and contempt. "You have desired, sir," he at length said to him ironically; "to try your strength with the filibusters and will soon learn the cost; while impelled by a mad desire of vengeance and inspired by an imaginary jealousy, you were virulently pursuing a lady whose noble heart and brilliant virtues you are incapable of appreciating, one half of the island of which you are the governor has been torn forever from the power of your sovereign, by my companions and myself; Tortuga, Leogane, San Juan de Goava, and your hatto del Rincón, suddenly surprised, have fallen without a blow." The Count drew himself up, a feverish flush covered his face, he advanced a step and cried in a voice choking with passion,-- "You lie, villain; however great your audacity may be, it is impossible that you have succeeded in seizing the places you mention." Montbarts shrugged his shoulders. "An insult coming from lips like yours has no effect," he said, "you shall soon have the confirmation of what I assert; but enough of this subject; I wished to have you in my power in order that you may be witness of what I have to say to this lady. Come," he added, addressing Doña Clara; "come, madam, and forgive me for not wishing to see you except in the presence of the man you call your husband." On hearing the appeal, Doña Clara rose trembling, and tottered forward. There was a momentary silence; Montbarts, with his head hanging on his chest, seemed plunged in bitter thoughts; at length he drew himself up, passed his hand over his forehead as if to drive away the mist that obscured his reason, turned to Doña Clara, and said to her in a gentle voice,-- "You desired to see me, madam, in order to remind me of a time forever past, and to confide a secret to me. This secret I have no right to know; the Count de Barmont is dead, dead to everybody, to you before all, who did not blush to renounce him, and though you belonged to him by legitimate ties, and before all by the more legitimate one of a powerful love, cowardly permitted yourself to be chained to another; this is a crime, madam, which no forgiveness can efface, either in the present or past." "Pity me, sir," the unhappy lady said, as she writhed beneath this curse and burst into tears; "pity me, in the name of my remorse and my sufferings!" "What are you doing, madam?" the Count exclaimed, "Rise at once." "Silence," Montbarts said in a harsh voice, "Allow this culprit to be bowed beneath the weight of her repentance; you, who have been her executioner, have less right than anyone else to protect her." Don Sancho had rushed toward his sister and, roughly repulsing the Count, raised her in his arms. Montbarts continued. "I will only add one word, madam; the Count de Barmont had a child; on the day when that child comes to ask his mother's pardon of me, I will grant it--perhaps," he added in a faint voice. "Oh!" the young lady exclaimed with a feverish energy, as she seized the hand which the filibuster had not the courage to withdraw from her, "Oh sir! You are great and noble, this promise restores me all my hope and courage; oh! I swear to you, sir, I will find my child again." "Enough, madam," Montbarts continued with ill suppressed emotion; "this interview has lasted too long; here is your brother, he loves you, and will be able to protect you; there is another person whom I regret not to see here, for he would have advised and sustained you, in your affliction." "To whom do you allude?" Don Sancho asked. "To the confessor of your sister." The young man turned away without answering. "Why, brother," Lepoletais here observed, "here he is half dead, look at his burnt hands." "Oh!" Montbarts exclaimed, "It is really he, who is the monster that has dared--" "Here he is!" the buccaneer replied, as he tapped the shoulder of the Count, who was dumb with stupor and horror, for only at this moment did he notice his victim. Two flashes of flame started from Montbart's eyes. "Villain," he exclaimed, "what, torture an inoffensive man! Oh, Spaniards, race of vipers! What sufficiently horrible punishment could I inflict on you!" All his hearers trembled at this passion so long restrained, which had at length burst its bonds and now overflowed with irresistible violence. "By Heaven!" the filibuster exclaimed in a terrible voice, "It is the worse for you, butcher, that you remind me I am Montbarts the exterminator. L'Olonnais, prepare the fire under the barbacoas of the boucan." An indescribable terror seized on all the hearers of this order, which clearly expressed to what a horrible punishment the Count was condemned; Don Stenio himself, in spite of his indomitable pride, felt a chill at his heart. But at this moment, the monk, who had hitherto remained motionless on his couch, and apparently insensible to what was going on, rose with a painful effort, and leaning on the shoulders of Doña Clara and her brother, tottered forward, and knelt with them to the filibuster. "Pity," he exclaimed, "pity, in Heaven's name!" "No," Montbarts replied harshly, "This man is condemned." "I implore you, brother, be merciful," the monk went on to urge him. All at once the Count drew two pistols from his doublet, and pointed one at Doña Clara, while he placed the other against his own forehead. "Of what use is it to implore a tiger," he said, "I die, but by my own hands, and I die avenged," and he pulled the trigger. The double detonation was blended in one. The Count fell dead on the ground; the second shot badly aimed did not strike Doña Clara, but Fray Arsenio, and laid him dying at the foot of his assassin. The last word of the poor monk was, "pity!" And he expired with his eyes fixed on heaven, as if with a last prayer addressed in favour of his murderer. * * * * * At sunset the savannah had returned to its habitual solitude; Montbarts, after having the victim and the assassin interred in the same grave, doubtless that the just man might protect the culprit in the presence of the Most High, set out for Port Margot, at the head of the filibusters and Caribs. Doña Clara and her brother returned to the hatto del Rincón, accompanied by the Spanish soldiers, to whom Montbarts had consented to restore their liberty, through consideration for the two young people. 
26960	----	Famous Privateersmen AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEA Their rovings, cruises, escapades, and fierce battling upon the ocean for patriotism and for treasure By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON Author of "Famous Cavalry Leaders," "Famous Indian Chiefs," "Famous Scouts," etc. Illustrated [Decoration] BOSTON THE PAGE COMPANY PUBLISHERS FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES BY CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON Each one volume, large 12mo, illustrated, $1.50 [Decoration] FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS FAMOUS SCOUTS FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN [Decoration] THE PAGE COMPANY 53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. [Illustration: From "The Army and Navy of the United States." "AGAIN THE CANNON MADE THE SPLINTERS FLY." (_See page 273._)] _Copyright, 1911,_ BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY (INCORPORATED) _All rights reserved_ First Impression, November, 1911 Second Impression, November, 1914 THE COLONIAL PRESS C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A. I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO THE HAPPY MEMORY OF George Alfred Henty THE MOST STIMULATING AUTHOR OF BOOKS FOR BOYS THAT THE PAST HALF CENTURY HAS PRODUCED, AND A WRITER WHO HAS KEPT ALIVE THE SPIRIT OF MANLY SPORT AND ADVENTURE WHICH HAS MADE THE ANGLO-SAXON PEOPLE A RACE OF WORLD CONQUERORS. MAY THEY NEVER RETROGRADE! _Thanks are due the Librarian of Congress, and particularly to Mr. Roberts of the Department of Prints, for numerous courtesies extended to the author during the compilation of this volume._ PREFACE MY DEAR BOYS:--The sea stretches away from the land,--a vast sheet of unknown possibilities. Now gray, now blue, now slate colored, whipped into a thousand windrows by the storm, churned into a seething mass of frothing spume and careening bubbles, it pleases, lulls, then terrorizes and dismays. Perpetually intervening as a barrier between peoples and their countries, the wild, sobbing ocean rises, falls and roars in agony. It is a stoppage to progress and contact between races of men and warring nations. In the breasts of all souls slumbers the fire of adventure. To penetrate the unknown, to there find excitement, battle, treasure, so that one's future life can be one of ease and indolence--for this men have sacrificed the more stable occupations on land in order to push recklessly across the death-dealing billows. They have battled with the elements; they have suffered dread diseases; they have been tormented with thirst; with a torrid sun and with strange weather; they have sorrowed and they have sinned in order to gain fame, fortune, and renown. On the wide sweep of the ocean, even as on the rolling plateau of the once uninhabited prairie, many a harrowing tragedy has been enacted. These dramas have often had no chronicler,--the battle was fought out in the silence of the watery waste, and there has been no tongue to tell of the solitary conflict and the unseen strife. Of sea fighters there have been many: the pirate, the fillibusterer, the man-of-warsman, and the privateer. The first was primarily a ruffian and, secondarily, a brute, although now and again there were pirates who shone by contrast only. The fillibusterer was also engaged in lawless fighting on the sea and to this service were attracted the more daring and adventurous souls who swarmed about the shipping ports in search of employment and pelf. The man-of-warsman was the legitimate defender of his country's interests and fought in the open, without fear of death or imprisonment from his own people. The privateersman--a combination of all three--was the harpy of the rolling ocean, a vulture preying upon the merchant marine of the enemy to his country, attacking only those weaker than himself, scudding off at the advent of men-of-warsmen, and hovering where the guileless merchantman passed by. The privateersman was a gentleman adventurer, a protected pirate, a social highwayman of the waters. He throve, grew lusty, and prospered,--a robber legitimized by the laws of his own people. So these hardy men went out upon the water, sailed forth beneath the white spread of new-made canvas, and, midst the creaking of spars, the slapping of ropes, the scream of the hawser, the groan of the windlass, and the ruck and roar of wave-beaten wood, carved out their destinies. They fought. They bled. They conquered and were defeated. In the hot struggle and the desperate attack they played their parts even as the old Vikings of Norway and the sea rovers of the Mediterranean. Hark to the stories of those wild sea robbers! Listen to the tales of the adventurous pillagers of the rolling ocean! And--as your blood is red and you, yourself, are fond of adventure--ponder upon these histories with satisfaction, for these stalwart seamen "Fought and sailed and took a prize Even as it was their right, Drank a glass and kissed a maid Between the volleys of a fight. _Don't_ begrudge their lives of danger, _You_ are better off by far, But, if war again comes,--stranger, Hitch _your_ wagon to their star." CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON. The bugle calls to quarters, The roar of guns is clear, Now--ram your charges home, Lads! And cheer, Boys! Cheer! CONTENTS PAGE PREFACE vii CARLO ZENO: HERO OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC 1 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE: ROVER AND SEA RANGER 23 SIR WALTER RALEIGH: PERSECUTOR OF THE SPANIARDS 53 JEAN BART: THE SCOURGE OF THE DUTCH 83 DU GUAY-TROUIN: THE GREAT FRENCH "BLUE" 113 EDWARD ENGLAND: TERROR OF THE SOUTH SEAS 137 WOODES ROGERS: THE BRISTOL MARINER 153 FORTUNATUS WRIGHT: THE MOST HATED PRIVATEERSMAN OF THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA 173 GEORGE WALKER: WINNER OF THE GAMEST SEA FIGHT OF THE ENGLISH CHANNEL 199 JOHN PAUL JONES: THE FOUNDER OF THE AMERICAN NAVY 239 CAPTAIN SILAS TALBOT: STAUNCH PRIVATEERSMAN OF NEW ENGLAND 283 CAPTAIN "JOSH" BARNEY: THE IRREPRESSIBLE YANKEE 299 ROBERT SURCOUF: THE "SEA HOUND" FROM ST. MALO 319 LAFITTE: PRIVATEER, PIRATE, AND TERROR OF THE GULF OF MEXICO 341 RAPHAEL SEMMES: DESPOILER OF AMERICAN COMMERCE 373 EL CAPITAN 393 RETROSPECT 397 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE "AGAIN THE CANNON MADE THE SPLINTERS FLY" (_See page 273_) _Frontispiece_ ZENO'S FLEET 18 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE 28 DRAKE'S GREATEST VICTORY ON THE SPANISH MAIN 44 YOUNG RALEIGH AND A COMPANION LISTENING TO TALES OF THE SPANISH MAIN 55 SIR WALTER RALEIGH 60 JEAN BART 86 "JEAN BART LED HIS BOARDERS OVER THE SIDE OF THE DUTCH VESSEL" 108 COMBAT BETWEEN DU GUAY-TROUIN AND VAN WASSENAER 135 "'LEFT US ENGAGED WITH BARBAROUS AND INHUMAN ENEMIES'" 146 "THE BOARDERS WERE REPULSED WITH GREAT SLAUGHTER" 193 ACTION BETWEEN THE "GLORIOSO" AND THE "KING GEORGE" AND "PRINCE FREDERICK" UNDER GEORGE WALKER 231 AMERICAN PRIVATEER TAKING POSSESSION OF A PRIZE 239 "BEGAN TO HULL THE 'DRAKE' BELOW THE WATER-LINE" 261 "THEY SWARMED INTO THE FORECASTLE AMIDST FIERCE CHEERS" 277 "TALBOT, HIMSELF, AT THE HEAD OF HIS ENTIRE CREW, CAME LEAPING ACROSS THE SIDE" 289 AMERICAN PRIVATEER CAPTURING TWO ENGLISH SHIPS 298 "SURCOUF SCANNED HER CAREFULLY THROUGH HIS GLASS" 336 RAPHAEL SEMMES 376 "THE MEN WERE SHOUTING WILDLY, AS EACH PROJECTILE TOOK EFFECT" 386 CARLO ZENO HERO OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC (1344-1418) "Paradise is under the shadow of swords."--MAHOMET. CARLO ZENO HERO OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC (1344-1418) Zeno, noble Zeno, with your curious canine name, You shall never lack for plaudits in the golden hall of fame, For you fought as well with galleys as you did with burly men, And your deeds of daring seamanship are writ by many a pen. From sodden, gray Chioggia the singing Gondoliers, Repeat in silvery cadence the story of your years, The valor of your comrades and the courage of your foe, When Venice strove with Genoa, full many a year ago. The torches fluttered from the walls of a burial vault in ancient Venice. Two shrouded figures leaned over the body of a dead warrior, and, as they gazed upon the wax-like features, their eyes were filled with tears. "See," said the taller fellow. "He has indeed led the stalwart life. Here are five and thirty wounds upon the body of our most renowned compatriot. He was a true hero." "You speak correctly, O Knight," answered the other. "Carlo Zeno was the real warrior without fear and without reproach. He has fared badly at the hands of the Republic. But then,--is this not life? Those most worthy seem never to receive their just compensation during their living hours. It is only when they are dead that a tardy public gives them some recognition of the great deeds which they have done, the battles which they have fought, and the honor which they have brought to their native land. Alas! poor Zeno! He--the true patriot--has had but scant and petty praise." So saying the two noble Venetians covered the prostrate form of the dead warrior--for they had lifted the brown robe which enshrouded him--and, with slow faltering steps, they left the gloomy chamber of death. Who was this Venetian soldier, who, covered with the marks of battle, lay in his last sleep? Who--this hero of war's alarms? This patriotic leader of the rough-and-ready rovers of the sea? It was Carlo Zeno,--a man of the best blood of Venice,--who, commanding fighting men and fighting ships, had battled strenuously and well for his native country. The son of Pietro Zeno and Agnese Dandolo, this famous Venetian had been well bred to the shock of battle, for his father was for some time Governor of Padua, and had won a great struggle against the Turks, when the careening galleys of the Venetian Squadron grappled blindly with the aggressive men of the Ottoman Empire. There were ten children in the family and little Carlo was named after the Emperor Charles IV, who sent a retainer to the baptism of the future seaman, saying, "I wish the child well. He has a brave and noble father and I trust that his future will be auspicious." Little Carlo was destined for the Church, and, with a Latin eulogium in his pocket (which his Venetian school-master had written out for him) was sent to the court of the Pope at Avignon. The sweet-faced boy was but seven years of age. He knelt before the prelate and his retainers, reciting the piece of prose with such precision, grace, and charm, that all were moved by his beauty, his memory, his spirit, and his liveliness of person. "You are indeed a noble youth," cried the Pope. "You shall come into my household. There you shall receive an education and shall be a canon of the cathedral of Patras, with a rich benefice." But little Carlo did not remain. Although dressed like a mimic priest and taught with great care, the hot blood of youth welled in his veins and made him long for a life more active and more dangerous. So he looked about for adventure so thoroughly that he was soon able to have his first narrow escape, and a part in one of those many brawls which were to come to him during his career of war and adventure. Sent by his relations to the University of Padua, he was returning to Venice from the country, one day, when a man leaped upon him as he walked down a narrow road. "Who are you?" cried Carlo fearfully. But the fellow did not answer. Instead,--he struck him suddenly with a stout cudgel--knocked him senseless on the turf, took all the valuables which he had, and ran silently away into the gloom. Little Carlo came to his senses after many hours, and, staggering forward with weakened steps, reached Mestre, where kind friends dressed his wounds. "I shall catch this assailant," cried he, when he had revived. "He shall rue the day that he ever touched the person of Carlo Zeno." And forthwith he secured a number of bloodhounds with which to track the cowardly ruffian of the highway. Luck was with the future commander of the galleons and fighting men. He ran the scurvy assailant to earth, like a fox. He captured him, bound him and handed him over to the justice of Padua,--where--for the heinousness of the offense--the man was executed. So ended the first conflict in which the renowned Carlo Zeno was engaged,--successfully--as did most of his later battles. Not long afterwards young Zeno returned to his studies at the University, but here--as a lover of excitement--he fell into bad company. Alas! he took to gambling, and frittered away all of his ready money, so that he had to sell his books in order to play. The profit from these was soon gone. He was bankrupt at the early age of seventeen. Ashamed to go home, the future sea rover disappeared from Padua and joined a fighting band of mercenaries (paid soldiers) who were in the employ of a wealthy Italian Prince. He was not heard of for full five years. Thus, his relatives gave him up for dead, and, when--one day--he suddenly stalked into the house of his parents, his brothers and sisters set up a great shout of wonder and amazement. "Hurrah!" cried they, "the dead has returned to his own. This is no ghost, for he speaks our own native tongue. Carlo Zeno, you shall be given the best that we have, for we believed that you had gone to another world." Pleased and overwhelmed with affection, young Carlo stayed for a time with his family, and then--thinking that, as he had been trained for the priesthood, he had best take charge of his canonry of Patras--he went to Greece. "Hah! my fine fellow," said the Governor, when he first saw him, "I hear that you are fond of fighting. It is well. The Turks are very troublesome, just now, and they need some stout Venetian blood to hold them in check. You must assist us." "I'll do my best," cried Zeno with spirit, and, he had not been there a week before the Ottomans swooped down upon the city, bent upon its demolition. The young Venetian sallied forth--with numerous fighting men--to meet them, and, in the first clash of arms, received such a gaping wound that he was given up for dead. In fact, when carried to the city, he was considered to be without life, was stretched upon a long settee, was clothed in a white sheet, and prepared for interment. But in the early morning he suddenly opened his eyes, gazed wonderingly at the white shroud which covered him, and cried, with no ill humor, "Not yet, my friends. Carlo Zeno will disappoint all your fondest hopes. Once more I am of the world." And, so saying, he scrambled to his feet, much to the dismay of the sorrowing Venetians, who had been carefully spreading a number of flowers upon the prostrate form of the supposedly dead warrior. But so weak was the youthful hero that he had to be taken to Venice in order to recover. When strong again he resumed his studies for the ministry and was sent to Patras, a city that was soon threatened by an army of twelve thousand Cypriotes and Frenchmen. "Here, Zeno," cried the Bishop of Patras to the virile young stripling. "We have seven hundred riders in our city. With this mere handful, you must defend us against our enemies. The odds are fifteen to one against you. But you must struggle valiantly to save our beautiful capital." "Aye! Sire!" cried the youthful student of church history. "I shall do my best to free your capital from these invaders. May the God of Hosts be with us! My men salute you." So saying the valiant youth led his small and ill drilled company against the besiegers, and, so greatly did he harass his adversaries, that they abandoned the enterprise, at the end of six months; made peace; and retired. "Hail to Zeno!" cried many of the soldiers. "He is a leader well worth our respect. Without him the great city would have surely fallen. Yea! Hail to young Zeno." These words of praise reached the ears of a certain Greek Knight named Simon, and so roused his envy, that he audaciously accused Carlo of treachery, which was soon told to the hot-headed young warrior. He acted as one would well expect of him. "I challenge you to single combat," cried he. "The duel shall be fought in Naples under the eye of Queen Johanna." In vain Carlo's friends besought him to forgive the loose-tongued Simon--his patron, the Bishop, exhausted his eloquence in the endeavor to reconcile the two. The hot blood of youth would out. It was fight and no compromise. But before the trial, the bold and unyielding soldier threw up his position with the Church and married a rich and noble lady of Clarenta, whose fortune well supplanted the large income which he had forfeited by his resignation. Now honor called for deeds. Almost immediately he was obliged to leave for Naples in order to meet the detractor of his valor, and, to his surprise, the Queen spoke lightly of the quarrel. "It is a question of law," said she. "An inquiry shall be had. There must be no bloodshed." An inquiry was therefore in order, and it was a thorough one. "Simon is in the wrong," said the fellow acting as clerk for those sitting upon the case. "He must pay all the expenses to which Zeno has been put, and there shall be no duel." "My honor has been cleared," cried Zeno. "I must return to Greece." There--strange as it might seem--he was at once named Governor of a province, though not yet twenty-three. Events were going well with him. But his wife died, he was cheated of his dowry by her relations, and so he turned once more to Venice,--saddened, older and nearly penniless. The wheel of fortune had turned badly for this leader of fighting men and future general of white-winged galleons of the sea. But now there was a really good fight--such a fight as all true sailors love--a fight which tested the grit and courage of Zeno to the full. It was the first of those heroic deeds of arms which shed undying lustre on his name, and marked him as a seaman of the first rank,--a captain of true courage, resources and ambition. The Genoese (or inhabitants of Genoa) and the Venetians, were continually at war in these days, and when--in patriotic zeal--Carlo Zeno seized the island of Tenedos, the Venetian Senate, fearing lest the Genoese would seek to recover the lost possession, sent a fleet of fifteen ships to guard it, under one Pietro Mocenigo. There were also two other vessels, one commanded by Carlo Zeno himself. The mass of galleys floated on to Constantinople, for the Greeks had allied themselves with the Genoese, had seized a Venetian man-of-war, which had been captured, and had then retired. Three lumbering hulks were left to protect the fair isle of Tenedos,--under Zeno, the war-like Venetian. "Aha," said a Genoese seaman. "There are but three galleys left to save our isle of Tenedos. We shall soon take it with our superior force. Forward, O sailors! We'll have revenge for the attack of the wild men from Venice." "On! on!" cried the Genoese seamen, and without further ado, twenty-two galleys careened forward, their white sails bellying in the wind, their hawsers groaning, spars creaking, and sailors chattering like magpies on a May morning. Carlo Zeno had only three hundred regular soldiers and a few archers, but he occupied the suburbs of the town and waited for the attackers to land. This they did in goodly numbers, for the sea was calm and motionless, although it was the month of November. "Men!" cried the intrepid Zeno, "you are few. The enemy are as numerous as blades of grass. Do your duty! Fight like Trojans, and, if you win, your grateful countrymen will treat you as heroes should be respected. Never say die, and let every arrow find an opening in the armor of the enemy." The Genoese came on with shouts of expectancy, but they were met with a far warmer reception than they had anticipated. The air was filled with flying arrows, as, crouching low behind quickly constructed redoubts, the followers of the stout-souled Zeno busily stretched their bowstrings, and shot their feathered barbs into the mass of crowding seamen. Savage shouts and hoarse cries of anguish, rose from both attackers and attacked, while the voice of Zeno, shrilled high above the battle's din, crying: "Shoot carefully, my men, do not let them defeat us, for the eyes of Venice are upon you." So they struggled and bled, until the shadows began to fall, when--realizing that they were unable to take the courageous Venetians--the Genoese withdrew to their ships. There was laughter and song around the camp fires of Zeno's little band, that night, but their leader spoke critically of the morrow. "Sleep well, my men," said he, "for I know that our foes are well angered at the beating we have given them. Next morn we shall again be at war. Let us keep our courage and have as a battle cry, 'Venice! No retreat and no quarter!'" When morning dawned the Genoese were seen to land engines of war, with the apparent intention of laying siege to the town. Their preparations showed that they meant to attack upon the side farthest from the castle, so Carlo Zeno--the quick-witted--placed a number of his men in ambush, among a collection of half-ruined and empty houses which stood in that quarter. "Stay here, my men," said he, "and when the enemy has advanced, charge them with fury. We must win to-day, or we will be disgraced." Meanwhile the rest of the Venetians had retreated inland, and, crouching low behind a screen of brush, waited patiently for the Genoese to come up. "Be cautious," cried Zeno, "and when the enemy is within striking distance, charge with all the fury which you possess." "Aye! Aye! Good master," cried the stubborn soldiers. "We mark well what you tell us." Not long afterwards the attacking party came in view, and, without suspecting what lay in front, advanced with quick gait towards the supposedly defenseless town. But suddenly, with a wild yell, the followers of Zeno leaped from behind the screening bushes, and dashed towards them. At the same instant, the soldiers who had been placed in hiding, attacked suddenly from the rear. Arrows poured into the ranks of the Genoese, and they fell like wheat before the scythe of the reaper. Hoarse shouts, groans, and cries of victory and death, welled above the battle's din. In the midst of this affair Carlo Zeno gave a cry of pain. An arrow (poisoned 'tis said) had entered his leg and struck him to the ground. But, nothing daunted, he rose to cry shrilly to his men, "On! On! Drive them to the ocean." And, so well did his soldiers follow these commands, that the Genoese fled in confusion and disorder to their ships. The day was won. As was natural, Zeno paid no attention to his wound, and, when the enemy hurried to shore the next day for another attack, they were greeted with such a terrific discharge of artillery that they gave up their idea of capturing the island and sailed away amidst cries of derision from the delighted Venetians. "Hurrah!" cried they. "Hurrah for Zeno!" But so exhausted was the intrepid leader by reason of his wound that he fell into a spasm as if about to die. His iron constitution pulled him through, however, and soon he and the faithful band returned to Venice, covered with glory, and full satisfied with their hard won victory. The daring Zeno was well deserving of praise, for he had beaten a fleet and an army by sheer genius, with three ships and a handful of men. To Venice had been preserved the valuable island which guards the entrance to the Dardanelles, and to her it was to remain for years, although the Genoese tried many times and oft to wrest it from her grasp. Now came another struggle--the war of Chioggia--a struggle in which Carlo Zeno played a great and noble part,--a part, in fact, that has made his name a byword among the grateful Venetians: a part in which he displayed a leadership quite equal to that of a Drake, or a Hawkins, and led his fighting galleons with all the courage of a lion. Hark, then, to the story of this unfortunate affair! Hark! and let your sympathy be stirred for Carlo Zeno, the indefatigable navigator of the clumsy shipping of the Italian peninsula! For years the Republics of Genoa and Venice remained at peace, but, for years the merchants of the two countries had endeavored to outwit each other in trade; and, thus, when the Genoese seized several Venetian ships with rich cargoes, in 1350, and refused to give them up, war broke out between the rival Republics. In two engagements at sea, the Venetians were defeated; but in a third they were victorious, and forever sullied the banner of St. Mark, which flew from their Admiral's mast-head, by causing nearly five thousand prisoners of war to be drowned. Fired by a desire for immediate revenge upon their foe, the Genoese hurried a mighty fleet to sea, and ravaged the Italian coast up to the very doors of Venice itself. Several other engagements followed, in most of which the Venetians were defeated; and then there were twenty years of peace before another conflict. Finally war broke out afresh. Angry and vindictive, the Genoese bore down upon the Venetian coast in numerous lumbering galleys, determined--this time--to reach Venice itself, and to sack this rich and populous city. With little difficulty they captured Chioggia, a seaport, a populous city and the key to the lagoons which led to the heart of the capital. They advanced to the very outskirts of Venice, and their cries of joyous vindictiveness sounded strangely near to the now terrified inhabitants, who, rallying around their old generals and city fathers, were determined to fight to the last ditch. As winter came, the victoriously aggressive Genoese retreated to Chioggia, withdrawing their fleet into the safe harbor to await the spring; leaving only two or three galleys to cruise before the entrance, in case the now angered Venetians should attack. But they were to be rudely awakened from their fancied seclusion. "Lead us on, O Pisani," the Venetians had cried in the broad market space of their beloved city. "We must and will drive these invaders into their own country. Never have we received before such insults. On! On! to Chioggia." So, silent and vengeful, the Venetian fleet stole out to sea on the evening of December twenty-first. There were thirty-four galleys, sixty smaller armed vessels, and hundreds of flat-bottomed boats. Pisani was in the rear, towing two heavy, old hulks, laden with stones, to sink in the entrance of the harbor and bottle up the fleet, even as the Americans were to sink the _Merrimac_ in the Harbor of Santiago, many years afterwards. The Genoese were unready. The cruisers, on duty as sentinels, were not where they should have been, and so the gallant Pisani scuttled the hulks across the harbor entrance and caught the bold marauders like rats in a trap. The fleet of the enemy was paralyzed, particularly as another river's mouth, some two miles southward, was also blockaded. Smiles of satisfaction shone upon the faces of the outraged Venetians. Carlo Zeno was hurrying up with a strong fleet manned by veteran seamen, but the now victorious followers of Pisani wished to return to Venice. "It is the Christmas season," cried many. "We have fought like lions. We have shut up our enemy. We have averted the extreme danger. Let us return to our wives and our children!" "You cannot go," said Pisani, sternly. "You are the entire male population of Venice. Without you the great expedition will come to naught, and all of our toil will have been thrown away. Only be calm. Carlo Zeno will soon be here, and we can then take Chioggia!" Alas! Like Columbus, he saw himself upon the verge of losing the result of all his labor for lack of confidence in him upon the part of his men. He could not keep them by force, so wearily and anxiously he scanned the horizon for signs of an approaching sail. The days went slowly by for the lion-hearted Pisani. Carlo Zeno did not come. Day after day the valiant leader fearfully looked for the white-winged canvas of a Venetian galleon, but none came to view. On the thirtieth day of December his men were very mutinous. "We will seize the ships and return to-morrow to Venice," cried several. "We have had enough of war. Our wives and daughters cry to us to return." Pisani was desperate. "If Carlo Zeno does not come in forty-eight hours, the fleet may return to Lido," said he. "Meanwhile, keep your guns shooting at the enemy. We must make these Genoese feel that we shall soon attack in force." But Pisani's heart was leaden. Where, yes, where was Zeno? New Year's Day came, and, by his promise, he must let the Venetians go. What did this mean for him? It meant the fall of Venice, the end of the Republic, the destruction of the population with all that they possessed. He--their idol, their leader for ten days--could no longer lead, for the Venetians could not bear a little cold and hardship for his sake. Sad--yes, sad, indeed--was the face of the stout seaman as he gave one last despairing glance at the horizon. Ha! What was that? A thin, white mark against the distant blue! It grew larger and clearer. It was the sail of a galley. Another, and another, and another hove in sight,--eighteen in all, and driving along swiftly before a heavy wind. But, were they hostile, or friendly? That was the question. Was it Zeno, or were these more galleons of the Genoese? Then, joy shone in the keen eyes of Pisani, for the banner of St. Mark fluttered from the peak of the foremost ship, and floated fair upon the morning breeze. Hurrah! It was Carlo Zeno, the lion-hearted. God speed brave Zeno! He had been twice wounded in fights along the coast, en route, but nothing could diminish his energy, or dampen his ardor. He had laid waste the Genoese coast; he had intercepted convoys of grain; he had harassed the enemy's commerce in the East, and he had captured a huge vessel of theirs with five hundred thousand pieces of gold. Marvellous Zeno! Brave, courageous Venetian sea-dog, you are just in the nick of time! "Thanks be to Heaven that you have come," cried Pisani, tears welling to his eyes. "Now we will go in and take Chioggia. It means the end of the war for us. Again, I say, thanks be to Heaven." With renewed hope and confidence the Venetians now pushed the siege. Seeing that their fleet could never escape, the Genoese started to dig a canal to the open sea, by which the boats could be brought off during the night. The work was begun, but Carlo Zeno discovered it in time. Volunteers were called for, a force was soon landed, and, under the leadership of Zeno, marched to intercept the diggers of this, the only means of escape. "The Venetians are going towards 'Little Chioggia,'" cried many of the Genoese. "We must hasten there to stop them." [Illustration: From an old print. ZENO'S FLEET.] But Zeno had only made a feint in this direction. Throwing his main force in the rear of the Genoese, he soon began to cut them up badly. They were seized with a panic. They fled towards the bridge of Chioggia, trampling upon each other as they ran, pursued and slashed to ribbons by Zeno's men. The bridge broke beneath the weight of the fugitives and hundreds were drowned in the canal, while thousands perished near the head of this fateful causeway. It was a great and signal victory for Zeno; the intrepid sea-dog and campaigner on land. This was a death blow. That night some of the garrison hastened to desert, and, as the siege progressed, the drinking water began to fail, the food gave out, and starvation stared the holders of Chioggia in the face. On the twenty-fourth of June the city surrendered; and four thousand one hundred and seventy Genoese, with two hundred Paduans--ghastly and emaciated--more like moving corpses than living beings--marched out to lay down their arms. Seventeen galleys, also, were handed over to the Venetians: the war-worn relics of the once powerful fleet which had menaced Venice itself. As a feat of generalship, Pisani's blockade of the Genoese fleet is rivalled by Sampson's blockade of Cervera's squadron at Santiago in 1898, and the military operation by which Carlo Zeno tempted the garrison of Brondolo into the trap which he had set for them, and drove them, like a flock of sheep into Chioggia, by sunset, is surely a splendid feat of arms. All honor to this intrepid sea-dog of old Venice! How fickle is Dame Fortune! Jealous of the reputation of this noble Venetian, the patricians, whose advice, during the war, he had consistently declined to follow; refused to make him a Doge of the City. It was thought that the election of the bravest captain of the day might be dangerous to the Republic. Instead of doing him honor, they imprisoned him; and was he not the noblest patriot of them all? When over seventy years of age,--the greatest and truest Venetian--loaned a small sum of money to the Prince Carrara, once a power in Venetian politics. He had saved his country from destruction. He had served her with the most perfect integrity. Yet, he reaped the reward which fell to the share of nearly every distinguished Venetian; he was feared by the government; hated by the nobles whom he had out-stripped in honor, and was condemned to prison by men who were not worthy to loose the latchet of his shoes. Although he had often paid the mercenary soldiers to fight for Venice, in the War of Chioggia, from his own pocket, he was sent to jail for loaning money to an unfortunate political refugee. When called before the Council of Ten on the night of the twentieth of January, 1406, the warrant for his examination authorized the use of torture. But even the Ten hesitated at this. "He is a brave man," said one. "Pray allow him to go untouched." The prisoner admitted that he had loaned the money. His explanation was both honorable and clear. But the Ten were obdurate that night. "He shall go to the Pozzi prison for a year," said they. "Besides this, he shall suffer the perpetual loss of all offices which he has held." Like a brave man, Carlo Zeno accepted the sentence without a murmur, and his sturdy frame did not suffer from the confinement. For twelve years longer he lived in perfect health; made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem; commanded the troops of the Republic once again; defeated the Cypriotes, and died peacefully,--a warrior with a name of undiminished lustre, most foully tarnished by his own compatriots. His is a reputation of undying glory, that of his judges is that of eternal shame. All honor to Carlo Zeno, the valorous Venetian, who could fight a ship as well as a squadron of foot soldiers on land! _Salve, Venetia!_ "Dip the banner of St. Mark, Dip--and let the lions roar. Zeno's soul has gone above, Bow--a warrior's life is o'er." HARKEE, BOYS! Harkee, Boys! I'll tell you of the torrid, Spanish Main, Where the tarpons leap and tumble in the silvery ocean plain, Where the wheeling condors circle; where the long-nosed ant-bears sniff At the food the Jackie "caches" in the Aztec warrior's cliff. _Oh! Hurray for the deck of a galleon stout,_ _Hurray for the life on the sea,_ _Hurray! for the cutlass; the dirk; an' th' pike;_ _Wild rovers we will be._ Harkee, Boys! I'll tell you of the men of Morgan's band, Of Drake and England--rascals--in the palm-tree, tropic land. I'll tell you of bold Hawkins, how he sailed around the Horn. And the Manatees went _chuck! chuck! chuck!_ in the sun-baked, lazy morn. _Oh! Hurray for the deck of a galleon stout,_ _Hurray for the life on the sea,_ _Hurray! for the cutlass; the dirk; an' th' pike;_ _Wild rovers we will be._ Harkee, Boys! You're English, and you come of roving blood, Now, when you're three years older, you must don a sea-man's hood, You must turn your good ship westward,--you must plough towards the land Where the mule-train bells go _tink! tink! tink!_ and the bending cocoas stand. _Oh! You will be off on a galleon stout,_ _Oh! You will be men of the sea,_ _Hurray! for the cutlass; the dirk; an' th' pike;_ _Wild rovers you will be._ SIR FRANCIS DRAKE ROVER AND SEA RANGER (1540-1596) "The man who frets at worldly strife Grows sallow, sour, and thin; Give us the lad whose happy life Is one perpetual grin: He, Midas-like, turns all to gold,-- He smiles, when others sigh, Enjoys alike the hot and cold, And laughs through wet and dry." --DRAKE. SIR FRANCIS DRAKE ROVER AND SEA RANGER (1540-1596) Sing a song of stout dubloons, Of gold and jingling brass, A song of Spanish galleons, Foul-bottomed as they pass. Of roaring blades and stumbling mules, Of casks of malmsey wine, Of red, rip-roaring ruffians, In a thin, meandering line. _They're with Drake, Drake, Drake,_ _He can make the sword hilt's shake,_ _He's a rattling, battling Captain of the Main._ _You can see the Spaniards shiver,_ _As he nears their shelt'ring river,_ _While his eyelids never quiver_ _At the slain._ So,-- Here's to Drake, Drake, Drake, Come--make the welkin shake, And raise your frothing glasses up on high. If you love a man and devil, Who can treat you on the level, Then, clink your goblet's bevel, To Captain Drake. "Take care, boy, you will fall overboard. Take care and do not play with your brother near the edge of our good ship, for the water here is deep, and I know that you can swim but ill." The man who spoke was a rough, grizzled sea-dog, clad in an old jersey and tarpaulins. He stood upon the deck of an aged, dismantled warship, which--anchored in the shallow water near Chatham, England,--swung to and fro in the eddying currents. Around him, upon the unwashed deck, scampered a swarm of little children, twelve in all, and all of them his own. "Very good, Father," spoke the curly-haired youngster. "I'll mind what you tell me. You're wrong, though, when you say that I cannot swim, for I can, even to yonder shore. Do you want to see me do it?" "Nay, nay," chuckled the stout seaman. "You're a boy of courage, Francis. That I can well see. But do not try the water. It is cold and you will have a cramp and go under. Stick to the quarter-deck." And laughing softly to himself, he went below, where a strong smell of cooking showed that there was something upon the galley stove to feed his hungry crew of youthful Englishmen. It was surely a strange house to bring up a troop of merry children in. The sound of wind and waves was familiar to them at night and they grew to be strong and fearless. But is not this the proper way to rear a sea-dog? These little ducklings, descended from a Drake, must have early set their hearts upon adventure and a seafaring life. In fact, one of them, young Francis, was to be one of the best known seamen of the centuries and knighted for his services to the Crown. Reared in a ship, he, by nature, loved the sea as only a child of the ocean could have done. The brine ran in his blood. Being the son of a poor man, he was apprenticed to a master of a small vessel which used to coast along the shore and carry merchandise to France and the Netherlands. He learned his business well. So well, indeed, that at the death of the master of the vessel it was bequeathed "to Francis Drake, because he was diligent and painstaking and pleased the old man, his master, by his industry." But the gallant, young sea-dog grew weary of the tiny barque. "It only creeps along the shore," he said. "I want to get out upon the ocean and see the world. I will therefore enlist with my stout kinsmen, the Hawkins brothers, rich merchants both, who build and sail their own ships." This he did, and thus began the roving life of Francis Drake: dare-devil and scourge of the West Indian waters. About fifty years before this lusty mariner had been born, America was discovered by Christopher Columbus--an Italian sailor in the service of Spain--and this powerful country had seized a great part of the new found land. There was no love lost between the Spaniards and the men from the cold, northern British Isles and thus Francis Drake spent his entire career battling with the black-haired, rapacious, and avaricious adventurers who flew the banner of King Philip of Arragon. Sometimes he was defeated, more often he was successful. Hark, then, to the tale of his many desperate encounters upon the wide waters of the surging Atlantic. Drake had said, "I'm going to sea with the Hawkins and view the world," and, as John Hawkins was just about to sail for the West Indies in six ships, the youthful and eager mariner was given an opportunity to command a vessel called the _Judith_. The fleet at first had good success. Slaves were captured upon the African coast and were sold in the West Indies, though with difficulty, because the Spaniards had been forbidden by their king to trade with the English. Laden with treasure and spices, the ships were about to start for home, when fearful storms beset them. Their beams were badly shattered. "We must seek a haven," cried Hawkins. "Ready about and steer for Vera Cruz, the port of the City of Mexico! There we can buy food and repair our fleet!" "'Tis well," cried his men, and, aiming for the sheltering harbor, they soon ploughed into the smooth water of the bay. But there was consternation among the Spaniards of the town. "We have treasure here," they whispered to each other. "See, those English dogs have come to rob us! We must fight, brothers, and fight hard to keep the cruel Islanders away." And they oiled their pistols and sharpened their cutlasses upon their grindstones. [Illustration: SIR FRANCIS DRAKE.] But luck was with the inhabitants of Vera Cruz. Next morning thirteen careening galleys swept into the quiet waters of the bay and joy shone in the black eyes of the Spaniards. "It is a Mexican fleet," cried they. "It returns with a new Viceroy or Governor, from good King Philip of Spain." And they laughed derisively. But in the breasts of Drake and Hawkins there was doubt and suspicion. "They are sure to attack us," said Hawkins, moving among his men. "Let every fellow be upon his guard." The Spanish were full of bowings and scrapings. They protested their deep friendship for the English and wished to be moored alongside. "We are very glad to see you, English brothers," said one. "We welcome you to the traffic and trade of the far East." So they peacefully dropped anchor near the suspicious men of England, still smiling, singing, and cheerfully waving a welcome to the none-too-happy sailors. "Avast," cried Francis Drake, "and sleep on your arms, my Hearties, for to-morrow there'll be trouble, or else my blood's not British." He was but a young man, yet he had guessed correctly. As the first glimmer of day shone in the dim horizon, a shot awoke the stillness of the morn. Another and another followed in rapid succession. Then _boom!_ a cannon roared, and a great iron ball buried itself in the decking of the _Jesus_; the flagship of gallant Hawkins. "We're attacked," cried Drake. "Man the decks! Up sails and steer to sea! Fight as you never fought before! Strike and strike hard for dear old England!" But his warning almost came too late, for two Spanish galleons ranged alongside and swung grappling irons into his rigging in order to close with the moving vessel. The Englishmen struck at them with oars and hand-spikes, knocking the tentacles of the on-coming octopus aside, and, with sails flying and shots rattling, the _Judith_ bore towards the open sea. The fight was now furious. Two of the English ships were sunk and the _Jesus_, Hawkins' own boat, was so badly damaged that she lay apparently helpless in the trough of the surging ocean. "Back, my Hearties," cried Drake, "and we'll see what we can do to save our gallant captain." So back they sailed, and, firing their little cannon with rapidity, soon held off the Spanish ship which threatened Hawkins himself with capture. Some of the English sailors jumped into their boats and rowed away, some gave in to the Spaniards, and some fought relentlessly. Thus raged the battle until the evening. As night fell, Drake ordered the _Judith_ to put to sea, Hawkins followed, and wandering about in these unknown parts, with little water and a scarcity of food, hunger forced the weary sailors to eat hides, cats, dogs, mice, rats, parrots and monkeys. "It was the troublesome voyage," wrote Hawkins, and such, indeed, it had proved to be. Some of the sailors asked to be placed on land rather than risk shipwreck and starvation in the overcrowded boat. Some of them reached England after years of suffering and weary journeying to and fro. Some were captured by the Spaniards and were put to death as heretics. A few were sent to the galleys as slaves. Others, more fortunate, were rowed ashore to serve in monasteries, where the monks made kind and gentle masters. And what of the youthful and danger-loving Drake? Five days before the wind-swept _Jesus_ struggled into Plymouth harbor with Hawkins and a famine-driven crew, Drake and his own adventurous Englishmen steered the little _Judith_ to the rocky headland which hides this sheltering refuge from the fury of the sea. "I am indeed right glad to reach Merrie England again," said he, "for we have had a rough and dangerous voyage. The Spaniards are treacherous dogs. They betrayed us, and henceforth I, for one, shall show them no quarter." So saying he journeyed to London to see the good Queen Elizabeth. "It is impossible for me to wage war upon Philip of Spain," said the valiant Mistress of England's destinies, when she heard his story of loss of kinsmen, friends and goods of great value. "I have a poor country. The navy of my fathers has been ruined. I have no proper army with which to avenge the treachery of Spain, and I have trouble with both France and Scotland. If you would have revenge, take matters into your own hands." "Philip is the mightiest monarch in the world to-day," answered the well-bronzed mariner, bowing low. "I am only a humble seafarer without either ships or money, but, most gracious Majesty, I am going to help myself in my quarrel with the King of Spain. From henceforth there will be war to the death between myself and the men of the south." The good Queen smiled, for she truly loved a valiant man. "May God be with you," said she. It was not long before the danger-loving mariner was again headed for the West Indies and the Spanish Main, with a crew of seventy-three men and boys. "We believe in our leader," said one. "He will take us on to fortune and to fame." And this was the sentiment of all, for who does not love a voyage after gold and treasure? Ploughing relentlessly across the deep, the two ships which carried these roving blades, reached the palm-clad West Indies in twenty-five days. All were cheerful and gay, for before them was danger, excitement, battle, and Spanish gold. "Lead on, Captain Drake," cried one of the men. "We wish to land at Plymouth with our pockets stuffed with Spanish dubloons." "I'll take you to the seaport of Nombre de Dios," said the bluff sea ranger. "There is gold and silver in this spot, and by the hogshead. Furthermore," he added chuckling, "most of it will be in the hold of our stout ships, the _Pascha_ and the _Swan_, before another moon." So the sailors were drilled in attack and sword play, while arms were distributed, which, up to now, had been kept "very fair and safe in good casks." All were in a cheerful mood, for the excitement of battle had begun to stir the hot blood in their veins. Late in the afternoon, the pinnaces (which had been carried on deck) were launched, and climbing aboard, the men of Merrie England set sail for the Spanish town. They lay under the shore, out of sight, until dark. Then they rowed with muffled oars to the shadows of the precipitous cliffs which here jutted into the rolling ocean, and quietly awaited the dawn. At three in the morning, while the silvery light of a half moon was just reddened with the first flush of dawn, the eager buccaneers landed upon the sandy beach. "Hark!" cried a youth, "We are already discovered." As he spoke, the noise of bells, drums, and shouting, came to the startled ears of the invaders. "Twelve men will remain behind to guard the pinnaces," cried Drake. "The rest must follow me and fight even to the last ditch. Forward!" Splitting into two bands, the Englishmen rushed through the narrow streets with a wild cheer ringing in the silent air. Drake's brother--with a certain John Oxenham and sixteen others--hurried around behind the King's treasure-house, and entered the eastern side of the market-place; while Drake, himself, marched up the main street with bugles blowing, drums rolling, and balls of lighted tow blazing from the end of long pikes carried by his stout retainers. The townsfolk were terrified with the din and blaze of fire. "An army is upon us," cried many. "We must flee for our lives." In spite of this, a goodly number rallied at the market-place, where there was a sharp fight. But nothing could withstand the onset of the men from the fog-swept island, and soon the Spaniards fled, leaving two behind who had been captured and held. "You must show us the Governor's house," cried Drake. "All the treasure is there." The two captives obeyed unwillingly, and great was the disappointment of the English when they found only bars of silver in the spacious mansion. "On! To the King's treasure-house!" again shouted the bold mariner. "There, at least, must be gold and jewels." In fact the English were furious with disappointment, for, as they reached the Governor's mansion (strongly built of lime and stone for the safe keeping of treasure) the eager pillagers rushed through the wide-open doorway. A candle stood lighted upon the top of the stairs. Before the threshold a horse stood champing his bit, as if recently saddled for the Governor, himself, while, by the flickering gleam of the taper, a huge glittering mass of silver bars was seen piled from floor to ceiling. That was all,--no caskets of gold or precious stones were to be seen. "Stand to your weapons, men!" cried Drake. "The town is full of people. Move carefully to the King's treasure-house which is near the waterside. There are more gold and jewels in that spot than all our pinnaces can carry." As the soldiers hurried where he led, a negro called Diego, rushed panting from the direction of the shore. "Marse Drake! Marse Drake!" he wailed. "De boats am surrounded by de Spanish. Dey will sholy be captured if you do not hurry back. Fo' de Lohd's sake, Massa, come down to de sho'." "My brother and John Oxenham will hasten to the shore," cried Drake. "Meanwhile, my Hearties, come batter down the doorway to this noble mansion. You are at the mouth of the greatest treasure-chest in the world." As the valiant captain spoke these words, he stepped forward to deal a blow, himself, at the stout door which shut him from the glittering riches. But suddenly he reeled and almost fell. Blood flowed in great quantities upon the sand, from a wound in his leg which he had received in the furious struggle within the market-place. "Come, Captain," cried one of his retainers, seizing him in his arms. "You must hasten to our pinnaces. What brooks this treasure to us when we lose you, for, if you live we can secure gold and silver enough at any time, but if you die we can find no more." "I fear me that I am grievously hurt," sadly spake the Captain. "Give me but a drink and then I think that I can reach our boats." A soldier stooped and bound his scarf about the wounded leg of the now weakened leader, and, bearing him aloft, the little band of adventurers turned toward the ocean side. They soon embarked, with many wounded besides the Captain, though none were slain save one trumpeter. Although the surgeons were kept busy in providing remedies and salves for the hurts of the soldiers, their main care was for the bold Francis Drake,--leader of this desperate expedition in quest of treasure. "If we lose you," cried a sailor, "we can scarce get home again. But while we enjoy your presence and have you in command of us, we can recover enough of wealth." "Before we left the harbor we took, with little trouble, a ship of wine for the greater comfort of our company," writes one of the stout soldiers in this brave affair. "And though they shot at us from the town we carried our prize to the Isle of Victuals. Here we cured our wounded men and refreshed ourselves in the goodly gardens which we found there abounding with great store of dainty roots and fruit. There were also great plenty of poultry and other fowls, no less strange and delicate." Although unsuccessful--as you see--the brave mariners were not daunted, and, after the wounded had recovered, a new expedition was determined upon, with the purpose of capturing one of the trains of mules which carried gold from Vera Cruz to Panama. Drake had been joined by numerous Maroons--negroes who had escaped from the Spaniards and had turned bandits--and these were quite willing and ready to aid him in the pursuit of treasure. But before the English marauders moved towards the interior, they attempted to attack Cartagena, the capital of the Spanish Main. Sailing into the harbor in front of this prosperous town, one evening, they found that the townsfolk had been well warned of their coming; they rang their bells and fired their cannon, while all of the soldiers ranged themselves before the ramparts. "Egad," cried Drake, with strange cheerfulness, in spite of his disappointment. "They're far too ready to receive us. We've got to withdraw." So they prowled around the mouth of the harbor, captured two ships, outward bound, and roared with laughter as they read a letter, written to warn all nearby citizens of "that terrible marauder, pirate, and butcher, Captain Drake." "The Spaniards carry no treasure by land during the rainy months," said one of the natives. "You must wait for five full moons, if you wish to catch a mule train." "All right," said Captain Drake. "We'll fortify a place of refuge--explore--and await the propitious moment when we can hope for success." Thus they tarried patiently until they heard from the Maroons (who ranged the country up and down) that a large fleet had arrived from Spain at Nombre de Dios. This was glad news. Drake smiled as he heard it, and prepared immediately to make a land journey to Panama with forty-eight followers, carrying provisions, arms, and many pairs of shoes, because they were to cross several rivers of stone and gravel. The way lay between great palm trees and through cool and pleasant woods where the sturdy Englishmen were much encouraged when they heard that there stood a great tree, not far from where they were, from which one could see both the North Sea (Atlantic) from which they were journeying, and the South Sea (Pacific) towards which they were going. Finally--upon the fourth day--they came to a very steep hill, lying east and west like a ridge, and, at this point, Pedro--chief of the Maroons--took Drake by the hand, saying, "Follow me, O Captain, and I will show you two seas at once, for you are in the very centre of this country. Behold you stand in the heart of this fertile land." Looking before him, the lion-hearted adventurer saw a high tree in which had been cut many steps, so that one could climb to the top. Here was a convenient bower large enough for ten or twelve men to seat themselves. Then--without further ado--he and the chief Maroon clambered into the spreading branches and gazed across the nodding palm tops into the dim distance. It was a fair day, and, as the Maroons had felled certain trees so that the prospect might be more clear, upon the delighted vision of the Englishman burst the vista of the blue Atlantic and shimmering Pacific. "I pray Almighty God in all his goodness," cried out the adventurous Drake in loud tones of appreciation, "that I may have life and leave to sail but once an English ship in this mighty ocean of the West!" Then he called up the rest of the voyagers, and told them of his prayer and purpose. "I will follow you by God's grace!" cried John Oxenham, "unless you do not wish my company." Drake smiled good-humoredly, and, with a wave of his arm in the direction of the glistening waters, descended to the ground. "On, my hearties!" cried he, "and we'll soon bag a mule train with its panniers filled with gold." The men started forward, singing an old English ballad. As they walked through the high pampas grass, they began to get glimpses of Panama and the low-lying ships in the harbor. They kept silence and at length hid themselves in a grove near the high road from Panama to Nombre de Dios, while a negro was sent into the city as a spy. In the afternoon the faithful henchman returned. "A certain great man intends to go to Spain by the first ship," he said. "He is travelling towards Nombre de Dios this very night with his daughter and his family. He has fourteen mules, eight of which are laden with gold and one with jewelry. Two other trains of fifty mules each--burdened with food and little silver--will also come up this night." The English smiled, and, without more ado, marched to within two miles of Vera Cruz, where half of them lay down upon one side of the road, and half upon the other. They were screened by the tall grass; so well, indeed, that no eye could see them, and in an hour's time, to their eager ears came the sound of mule trains passing to and fro near Vera Cruz, where trade was lively because of the presence of the Spanish fleet. All was propitious for a successful attack. But misfortune seemed always to follow the bold and adventurous Drake. As mischance would have it, one of his men called Robert Pike, who had "drunk too much brandy without water," was lying close to the roadway by the side of a grinning Maroon, and, when a well-mounted cavalier from Vera Cruz rode by--with his page running at his stirrup--he rose up to peer at him, even though his companion pulled him down in the endeavor to hide his burly form. "Sacre Nom de Dieu," cried the traveller. "It is a white man! An Englishman!" and, putting spurs to his horse, he rode away at a furious gallop in order to warn others of the highwayman's position. The ground was hard and the night was still. As Captain Drake heard the gentleman's trot change into a gallop, he uttered a round British oath. "Discovered," he muttered, "but by whose fault I know not. We'll await the other trains and mayhap we'll have some booty yet." The gentleman, in fact, warned the Treasurer, who, fearing that Captain Drake had wandered to this hidden thicket, turned his train of mules aside and let the others--who were behind him--pass on. Thus, by recklessness of one of the company, a rich booty was lost, but--as an Englishman has well said, "We thought that God would not let it be taken, for likely it was well gotten by that Treasurer." There was no use repining, for soon a tinkling of bells and tread of hoofs came to the eager ears of the adventurers, and, through the long pampas grass ambled the other two mule trains--their drivers snapping the whips with little thought of the lurking danger. In a moment they were between the English and hidden Maroons, who--with a wild cheer--dashed upon them, surrounded them, and easily held them in their power. Two horse loads of silver was the prize for all this trouble and hard travel. "I never grieve over things past," cried Drake. "We must now march home by the shortest route. It is certainly provoking that we lost the mule train of gold, particularly as we were betrayed by one of our own men. Come, soldiers, turn about and retreat to our good ships." Half satisfied but cheerful, the soldiers and Maroons turned towards the coast, and, as they neared Vera Cruz, the infantrymen of the town swarmed outside to attack the hated men of Merrie England, with cries of, "Surrender! Surrender!" Drake looked at them scornfully, replying, "An Englishman never surrenders!" At this a volley rang out and one of the intrepid adventurers was "so powdered with hail-shot that he could not recover his life, although he continued all that day with Drake's men." But stout Francis blew his whistle--the signal for attack--and, with a wild cry, the Maroons and English rushed for the black-haired and sallow-skinned defenders of the town. "Yo Peho! Yo Peho!" wailed the half-crazed natives as they leaped high in the air, and encouraged by the presence of the English, they broke through the thickets at the town's end and forced the enemy to fly, while the now terrified Spanish scurried pell mell down the coast. Several of Drake's followers were wounded, and one Maroon was run through with a pike, but his courage was so great that he revenged his own death ere he died, by slaying a Spaniard who opposed him. At sunrise the land pirates continued their journey, carrying some plunder from Vera Cruz. Some of the men fainted with weakness, but two Maroons would carry them along until they could again walk, and thus--struggling, cursing and singing--the party of weary and disappointed marauders neared the place where they had left their ship. A messenger was sent forward with a golden toothpick to those left behind upon the vessel and a request that the ship be brought into the narrow channel of a certain river. It was done, and when at last the weary plunderers reached the shore, they gave a mighty cheer as they saw the white, bellying sails of their staunch, English vessel. Their journey for pelf and jewels had been a failure. This did not discourage the lion-hearted Drake, who declared, with a smile, "We'll yet catch a mule train, boys, and one in which the panniers are filled with sufficient gold to sink our good ship. Keep your hearts bright and I'll gain you enough of treasure to house you in peace and comfort in your old age. Remember--'Fortune favors the brave!'" He had spoken with truth. Not long afterwards a French captain appeared, whose men were only too eager for a little journey ashore after golden mule trains and battle. So a party was made up of twenty Frenchmen, fifteen Englishmen, and some Maroons, who sailed with a frigate and two pinnaces, towards a river called Rio Francisco--to the west of Nombre de Dios. They landed, struck inland, and were soon near the high road from Panama to Nombre de Dios, where mule trains passed daily--some with food and merchandise--a few with golden ingots and bars of silver. In silence they marched along and spent the night about a mile from the road, where they could plainly hear the carpenters working on their ships--which they did at night because of the fierce, torrid sun during the day. Next morning--the first of April, but not an April Fool's day by any means--they heard such a number of bells that the Maroons began to chuckle and say, "You will have much gold. Yo Peho! Yo Peho! This time we will all be rich!" Suddenly three mule trains came to view, one of fifty long-eared beasts of burden; two of seventy each, with every animal carrying three hundred pounds weight of silver, amounting to nearly thirty tons. The sight seemed almost too good to be true. With a wild shout the ambuscaders leaped from their hiding places to rush frantically upon the startled drivers. In a few moments the train was in possession of Drake and his French and half-negro associates, who chuckled and grunted like peccaries. The leading mules were taken by the heads and all the rest lay down, as they always do when stopped. The fifteen soldiers who guarded each train were routed, but not before they had wounded the French captain most severely and had slain one of the Maroons. Silver bars and gold ingots were there aplenty. They were seized and carried off, while, what was not transported, was buried in the earthen burrows made by the great land crabs under fallen trees, and in the sand and gravel of a shallow river. "And now for home," cried a valorous sea farer, after a party had returned with a portion of the buried treasure, which was divided equally between the French and the English. Much of that left in the sand crab holes had been discovered by the Spaniards--but not all. Thirteen bars of silver and a few quoits of gold had rewarded the search of the expectant voyageurs. "Yes," cried all. "Sails aloft for Merrie England!" So, spreading canvas, the bold adventurers were soon headed for the foggy and misty isle from which they had come. On Sunday, August ninth, 1573--just about sermon time--they dropped anchor in the peaceful harbor of Plymouth. "And the news of the Captain's return brought unto his people, did so speedily pass over all the church, and fill the minds of the congregation with delight and desire to see him, that very few, or none, remained with the preacher. All hastened to see the evidence of God's love and blessing towards the gracious Queen and country, by the fruit of the gallant mariner's labor and success." "To God alone," spake an humble citizen of Plymouth, "be the Glory." [Illustration: DRAKE'S GREATEST VICTORY ON THE SPANISH MAIN. (The surrender of Don Anton to Sir Francis Drake, March 1, 1579.)] And all echoed these pious sentiments, in spite of the fact that Drake was a robber, a pirate, and a buccaneer. But was he not their own countryman? * * * * * The scene now changes. It is a gray day at Plymouth and anxious faces peer into the street from the windows of the low, tiled houses. A crowd has collected upon the jutting cliffs and all gaze with eager eyes towards the ocean. Men speak in hushed and subdued voices, for there is trouble in the air. Among the knots of keen-eyed English there is one small party which seems to be as joyous as a lot of school-boys. Five men are playing at bowls, and one of them is stout, and well knit, and swarthy visaged with long exposure to the elements. He is laughing uproariously, when a lean fellow comes running from the very edge of those beetling cliffs which jut far out into the gray, green Atlantic. "Hark'ee, Captain Drake!" he cries. "Ships are in the offing, and many of them too! It must be the fleet of Philip of Spain come to ravage our beauteous country!" "Ah, indeed," answers the staunch-figured captain, without looking up. "Then let me have one last shot, I pray thee, before I go to meet them." And so saying, he calmly tosses another ball upon the greensward, knocks aside the wooden pins, then smiling, turns and strides towards the waterside. Thus Drake--the lion-hearted--goes out to battle with the great Armada of Philip of Spain, with a smile upon his lips, and full confidence in his ability to defeat the Spaniards at home as well as on the Spanish Main. Let us see how he fared? Smarting with keen anger at Drake and his successful attacks upon his western possessions, Philip--the powerful monarch of Spain--determined to gather a great fleet together and to invade England with a mighty army. "That rascally pirate has beaten me at Cadiz, at Cartagena, and at Lisbon," the irate king had roared, with no show of composure. "Now I will sail against him and crush this buccaneer, so that he and his kind can never rise again." A mighty fleet of heavy ships--the Armada--was not ready to sail until July, 1588, and the months before this had been well spent by the English in preparation for defense, for they knew of the full intention of their southern enemy. Shipwrights worked day and night. The clamoring dockyards hummed with excitement, while Good Queen Bess and her Ministers of State wrote defiant letters to the missives from the Spanish crown. The cold blood of the English--always quite lukewarm in their misty, moisty isle--had begun to boil with vigor. The Britons would fight valiantly. As the lumbering galleons neared the English coast, a heavy mist which hid them, blew away, and the men of England saw the glimmering water fairly black with the wooden vultures of old Spain. The Spaniards had come ready to fight in the way in which they had won many a brilliant victory; with a horde of towering hulks, of double-deckers and store-ships manned by slaves and yellow-skinned retainers, who despised big guns and loved a close encounter with hand thrusts and push of pike. Like a huge, wooden octopus this arrogant fleet of Arragon moved its tentacles around the saucy, new-made pinnaces of the tight little isle. "The boats of the English were very nimble and of good steerage," writes a Spaniard, "so that the English did with them as they desired. And our ships being very heavy compared with the lightness of those of the enemy, it was impossible to come to hand-stroke with them." This tells the whole story. With a light wind astern--the war ships of the English bore down easily upon the heavy-bottomed Spanish galleons and fired their guns at the hulls of the enemy. "Don't waste your balls upon the rigging," cried Drake through a trumpet. "Sight low and sink 'em if you can. But keep away from the grappling hooks so's not to let 'em get hold of you. If they once do--you're lost!" Now was the sound of splitting of boards, as the solid shot pumped great holes in the sides of the high rocking galleons. Dense clouds of vapor hung over the struggling combatants--partly from a sea fog which the July sun had not thoroughly burned away, and partly from the spitting mouths of the cannon. Fire burst from the decks, the roar of the guns was intermingled with the shrill wails of the slaves, the guttural cries of the seamen, the screams of the wounded and the derisive howls of those maddened by battle. The decks were crimson with blood; sails split and tore as the chain-shot hummed through the rigging, and the sharp twang of the arquebusques was mingled with the crash of long-barrelled muskets. No men can fight like those who are defending their own homes. At Gettysburg, the Army of the Potomac--twice beaten in an attack upon the South in the enemy's country--struggled as it had never done before,--and won. It had nowhere battled as when the foe was pushing it back upon its own soil and cities. So here--no fighters ever bled as did the English when the greedy hands of Spain were clutching at their shores. The light ships hung near the Spaniards at a distance and did not board until spars were down and the great rakish hulls were part helpless. Then--with a wild cheer--the little galleons--often two at a time--would grapple with the enemy and board--cutlasses swinging, pistols spitting, and hand-spikes hewing a way through the struggling, yellow-faced ruffians of Philip of Arragon. While the awful battle raged, fire ships were prepared on shore and sent down upon the Spanish fleet, burning fiercely and painting the skyline with red. Some of the large vessels had anchored, and, as these terrors approached, they slipped their cables in order to escape. Confusion beset the ranks of the boastful foe and cheered on the British bull-dogs to renewed exertions. At six in the evening a mighty cry welled from the British boats. "They fly! They fly!" sounded above the ruck and roar of battle. Yes--it was the truth. Beaten and dismayed, the Spanish fleet bore away to the North, while the English--in spite of the fact that their powder was wet, and nearly all spent--"gave them chase as if they lacked nothing, until they had cleared their own coast and some part of Scotland of them." The Armada--split, part helpless--drifted away from Plymouth, and wild cheers of joy came from the deck of the vessel which carried bold Sir Francis Drake. The great battle had been won. So crippled were many of the Spanish hulks that they were wrecked in stormy weather, off the coast of Scotland and Ireland. Not half of those who put to sea ever reached Spain again. Many sailors were drowned, or perished miserably by the hands of the natives of the coast, and some who escaped were put to death by the Queen's orders. Fever and sickness broke out in the English ships and the followers of bold Drake died by hundreds, "sickening one day and perishing the next." The English vessels, themselves, were in a bad way--they had to be disinfected and the men put ashore--where the report of the many wrecks and the massacre of Spanish soldiers, eased the anxiety of the once terrified inhabitants of the tight little isle, and made it certain that the Armada would never return. Drake and his bold seamen had saved the people of Merrie England. Again hats off to this pirate of the Spanish Main! Safely settled in Buckland Abbey, knighted, honored, respected--the hero of the defense of England--one would think that Drake would have remained peacefully at home to die "with his boots on." But not so. The spirit of adventure called to him with irresistible force, and again he set out for the Spanish Main. He had sailed around the world before his grapple with the Armada; he had harassed the Spaniard in an expedition to Lisbon; he was the idol of the English. He had done enough--you say. Yes, he had done enough--but--like all men who love the game of life he wished to have just one more expedition in search of gold and adventure, for--by nature he was a gambler, and he was throwing the dice with Fate. So a goodly crew sailed with him again, hoping for another raid upon mule trains and cities of treasure. But alas! There was to be a different story from the others. All the towns and hamlets of the Spanish Main had been warned to "be careful and look well to themselves, for that Drake and Hawkins were making ready in England to come upon them." And when the English arrived they found stout defense and valiant men, nor was a sail seen "worth giving chase unto." Hawkins died, many grew ill of fever, and finally Drake, himself, succumbed to the malarial atmosphere of Panama. He was to remain where gold and adventure had first lured him. On January the twenty-eighth, 1596, the great captain yielded up his spirit "like a Christian, quietly in his cabin." And a league from the shore of Porto Rico, the mighty rover of the seas was placed in a weighted hammock and tossed into the sobbing ocean. The spume frothed above the eddying current, sucked downward by the emaciated form of the famous mariner, and a solitary gull shrieked cruelly above the bubbles, below which--upon beads of coral and clean sand--rested the body of Sir Francis Drake, rover, rogue, and rattling sea ranger. It was his last journey. "Weep for this soul, who, in fathoms of azure, Lies where the wild tarpon breaks through the foam, Where the sea otter mews to its brood in the ripples, As the pelican wings near the palm-forest gloom. Ghosts of the buccaneers flit through the branches, Dusky and dim in the shadows of eve, While shrill screams the parrot,--the lord of Potanches, 'Drake, Captain Drake, you've had your last leave.'" SEA IRONY One day I saw a ship upon the sands Careened upon beam ends, her tilted deck Swept clear of rubbish of her long-past wreck; Her colors struck, but not by human hands; Her masts the driftwood of what distant strands! Her frowning ports, where, at the Admiral's beck, Grim-visaged cannon held the foe in check, Gaped for the frolic of the minnow bands. The seaweed banners in her fo'ks'le waved, A turtle basked upon her capstan head; Her cabin's pomp the clownish sculpin braved, And, on her prow, where the lost figure-head Once turned the brine, a name forgot was graved, It was "The Irresistible" I read. --HEATON. SIR WALTER RALEIGH PERSECUTOR OF THE SPANIARDS (1552-1618) "All great men have lived by hope."--JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. [Illustration: YOUNG RALEIGH AND A COMPANION LISTENING TO TALES OF THE SPANISH MAIN.] SIR WALTER RALEIGH PERSECUTOR OF THE SPANIARDS (1552-1618) "When the sobbing sea is squally, Then,--look out for Walter Raleigh! He's the fellow whom Queen Bess is said to love. He's a reckless, handsome sailor, With a 'Vandyke' like a tailor, He can coo fond words of loving like a dove. Faith! I like this gallant rover, Who has ploughed the wild seas over, Who has passed the grim and wild equator's ring. And I cheer, whene'er I view him, For--my Boy--off Spain I knew him When he trimmed the Spanish cruisers, like a King." --_Chant of the Plymouth Dock-Hand._ Boys! You have all heard about the _Square Deal_. Well--Here is the story of a man who didn't get one. Walter Raleigh was a brave man; he was an able seafarer; his younger manhood was spent in the midst of the most brilliant Royal Court which England has known. He proved his courage and military prowess in more than one bitterly contested battle-field and naval conflict. His love of his own land and his hatred of his enemies was ardent. He was also a fellow of wit, and, as an author, took rank with the great literary lights of the Elizabethan Age. He was an adventurer, and, in middle life, as well as in old age, braved the great deep and perils of savage lands in the magnificent attempt to make discoveries and to settle English colonies in the New World. Chivalrous in actions and feeling; of handsome person; graceful manners and courtly address; it is no wonder that he had a host of enemies: those fellows who couldn't do anything worth while themselves, and wanted to "pull the other fellow down." There are plenty of them around, to-day, doing the same thing in the same, old way. As an Englishman he loved England to such an extent, that--upon the return from one of his numerous voyages--he dropped upon one knee and kissed the sand. "My men," said he to his followers, "I love this land as nothing else on earth!" The hostility of his rivals subjected him to harsh ill treatment. It did not dampen his love for England. The silly caprices of Queen Elizabeth, who--like most women--was swayed, not by her reason, but by her sentiments, made him suffer imprisonment. Yet, it did not dampen his love for England. The terrible and bitter dislike of King James--who succeeded the Virgin Queen--finally led to his trial for treason; his execution; and his death. Yet, it did not dampen his love for England. If England can produce men of such a mold, nowadays, she will continue to be a mighty world power. Do you think that _you_ could be as patriotic as Sir Walter Raleigh? Particularly if _you_ were treated as _he_ was treated? Think it over! * * * * * One day, the ancient palace of Greenwich, which stood on the banks of the Thames--a few miles below London--presented a lively and brilliant scene. Courtiers, arrayed in gorgeous colors and glittering ornaments, walked about, chattering gaily,--like a flock of sparrows. Fine, young cavaliers were there, attired in rich velvets, sparkling with gems, armed with gold-hilted swords. Grave statesmen wandered around,--with beards as white as their ruffles. Stately dames, with heavy and gaily trimmed trains, peered at the beautiful belles, and said: "My, isn't she a fright!" or "Goodness, what _dreadful_ manners the Duchess so-and-so has!" Just as they do to-day. Times do not change. Trumpets blared a fan-fa-rade and lines of soldiers gave forth inspiriting sounds, with many musical instruments. There was a stir and flutter in the crowd; and some one called out: "She's coming! Hats off to the Queen!" So all the men took off their hats,--for they were courtiers, and it was their business to do so, whenever Her Royal Highness came around. Many of them didn't like to do it but if they hadn't done so, some spy would have cried out "Treason!" And they would have been hustled off to the Tower. You _just bet_ they took off their hats! Descending the broad flight of steps, with proud and majestic mien, the tall and slender figure of Elizabeth--the maiden Queen of England--was seen approaching. She was then in the mature ripeness of middle age, but she still preserved not a few remnants of the beauty of her youth. Her form was straight and well proportioned. Her large, blue eyes were yet bright and expressive; her complexion was still wonderfully fair and smooth. Her well arranged hair was luxuriant and was of a light red. A large, fan-like collar of richest lace rose from her slender neck, above her head behind; and her tresses were combed high from her forehead. Jewels blazed from her dress. Her attire was far more splendid than that of any of the ladies of her court. As it happened, a heavy shower had just passed over, and little puddles of water stood all around upon the gravelled paths. Bursting through the fast-vanishing clouds, the sun cast its rays upon the trees still dripping with glittering drops; and upon the smiling Queen, who--surrounded by a gay group of courtiers--set forth upon a promenade through the park. She chatted affably with all. They tried to make themselves as agreeable as possible, for he who was most agreeable received the best plums from the Royal Tree. Politics haven't changed any since that day. The Queen walked on, playing with a beautiful, white greyhound, and, pretty soon she came to a muddy spot in the path. "Zounds!" said she (or it may have been something stronger, for historians say that she could "swear valiantly"). "Zounds! Now I will spoil my pretty shoes!" "And also your pretty feet," interjected a courtier. He received a smile for this compliment and the Queen mentally made a note of it,--for future use in the distribution of Court Favors. She hesitated, looked around aimlessly, and stood still. At this instant a young noble--six feet tall and elegantly attired--stepped forward; and, throwing aside his richly embroidered cloak, spread it over the muddy pool. "Prithee, pass onward!" said he, bowing low. Elizabeth was delighted. "Good Walter Raleigh," said she, smiling. "You are truly a gallant knight!" And she tripped gaily across the embroidered mantlet. "I will reward you right well for this!" But the courtiers, the Ladies, and the Statesmen glanced with undisguised envy at the young gallant who had so readily pleased their Mistress; and they scowled at him as Elizabeth kept him at her side during the rest of her promenade. "The Beggar's outdone us all!" said one. "Down with him!" But they could not down Sir Walter just then. After awhile they had "their innings." Rough, vain, whimsical Queen Bess was fond of handsome, and especially of witty and eloquent young men. She grew more attached to Sir Walter Raleigh every day. He rapidly rose in power and influence, and, as a poet, became well known. His verses were read in the luxurious halls of the palace with exclamations of delight, while the tales of his military exploits were eagerly repeated from mouth to mouth; for Raleigh had fought valiantly in France and had helped to suppress an insurrection in Ireland. And still the jealous courtiers murmured among themselves. Raleigh was appointed "Warden of the Stanneries," or mines, in Cornwall and Devonshire, from which he derived, each year, a large income. He was made Captain of the Queen's Guard. He was created Lord Lieutenant of Cornwall and Vice-Admiral of Devon. He received vast estates in Ireland and many privileges and licenses, so that he was fast becoming a rich man. He was splendid and extravagant in his dress. He grew arrogant. He had, in fact, "too much Ego in his Cosmos." So, the jealous courtiers continued to murmur among themselves. Elizabeth was fickle as well as sentimental. Her fancy passed lightly from one gallant to another. For some time Leicester (who had once been her sole favorite, and who desired to regain his position) had been growing jealous of Raleigh's ascendency; and he had been delighted to see that Queen Bess had taken a violent fancy to the impetuous Earl of Essex. A quarrel took place between Raleigh and the Ruler of England. He was affronted before the whole court and retired to his chambers, overwhelmed with grief. [Illustration: SIR WALTER RALEIGH.] And all the jealous courtiers punched each other beneath the ribs, and laughed "Ha! Ha! Ha! What did we tell you?" It took the "Ego" out of Raleigh's "Cosmos." But the gallant courtier had a half-brother--Sir Humphrey Gilbert--who had just returned from a voyage around the world in the good ship _Golden Hind_. "Let's fit out a small fleet," said he to Raleigh, "and establish an English colony in Newfoundland." "I'm with you," cried Sir Walter. "We'll found another England in far distant America! On with it!" Thus, an expedition of five ships sailed from Plymouth, in the early summer of 1583. Sir Humphrey boarded the _Squirrel_, and bade his kinsman an affectionate adieu. "You must remain behind," said he, "and regain our position at court!" "That I will endeavor to do," answered Raleigh. "Good luck and God speed." The expedition was a failure from the start. Scarcely had the shallops gone to sea, than one of them--the _Raleigh_--deserted its companions and put back. The rest reached Newfoundland, but the men were lawless and insubordinate. "This is the Deuce of a cold place for a colony," they said. "Home to Merrie England!" Gilbert was forced to yield to their angry demands, and re-embarked. "Don't sail in that rattle-trap of a _Squirrel_," said his officers to him. "She'll founder!" But Sir Humphrey had that obstinacy which characterized General Braddock. "No: I will not forsake the little company, going homeward," said he. "I'll stick to my ship." He stuck--and--when they hailed him one stormy night, he said: "Be of good cheer, my friends: we are as near to Heaven by sea as by land!" That night the _Squirrel_ was sailing a little in advance of the other ships, and, as those on board the _Golden Hind_ watched the frail barque, they saw her lurch, heave, and then sink from view. Thus the soul of brave Raleigh's kinsman found a watery grave. He had paid for his obstinacy with his life. Raleigh was overwhelmed with grief when he learned of the death of his heroic half-brother. "I'll yet found my Colony," said he. "And I'll go myself." This pleased the jealous courtiers more than ever, for they would now have him out of the way for all time. With his ample wealth, the indefatigable adventurer found no difficulty in fitting out an expedition, and, in the year after the death of Sir Humphrey Gilbert, he sent forth two vessels to explore the coast of the Carolinas. "I'm going to stay at home and face my enemies!" said the gay blade. "Again good luck and God Speed!" They had a fortunate voyage, and, when they returned, the Captains told of the beautiful harbors, fine rivers, magnificent forests and abundance of game. The Queen was delighted, and at once named the fair country for herself, with characteristic egotism. That men might know that this fruitful land was explored in the time of the Virgin Queen, it was called "Virginia." Raleigh was wild with delight. And the jealous courtiers looked dejected and sad. A fleet of seven vessels--with one hundred colonists--was now sent to Virginia, under the command of one Grenville, who was eager to become suddenly rich: a disease as common now as in those venturous days. No sooner had the people landed, than they began to treat the savages with such harshness and rapacity--that they had to gain their own food, as the natives would have nothing to do with them. Dissensions tore the little community into shreds. So they were only too glad to return with the gallant old sea-dog, Sir Francis Drake, when he happened that way, with a large amount of booty which he had just taken from the Spaniards in the southern seas. Another expedition was sent over by Raleigh; and yet another. They were failures. But there was one, single thing which was not a failure. This was the discovery of a herb called "Yppowoc," or tobacco, the leaves of which--when dried--were smoked by the natives in long pipes. Curious Sir Walter had a jeweller in London make him a silver pipe, after the fashion of those used by the native Virginians. In this he began to smoke the tobacco, and soon grew to like it very much; so much, indeed, that he was scarcely ever without this comforter, when enjoying the quiet of his home. One day he was sitting cosily by his fire with his Long Nine in his mouth, and the smoke was curling gracefully over his head. Just as he was puffing out a particularly thick cloud, one of his servants happened to enter the room with a tankard of ale, for the luncheon table. "Ye Gods!" cried he. "My Master's on fire!" _Swash!!_ Over Sir Walter's head went the ale, and the frightened lackey dashed down the steps. "H-e-l-p! H-e-l-p!" cried he. "My Master is burning up! H-e-l-p!" But Sir Walter did not burn up this time. Instead he near split his gallant sides with laughing. Now, Boys, don't smile! 'Tis said that good old Queen Bess tried, herself, to smoke a Long Nine. But--hush--"she became so dizzy and ill from the effects that she never ventured upon the experiment again!" (Keep this quiet! Very quiet! Will you!) On one occasion she was watching Sir Walter blowing circles of smoke over his head, and said to him-- "Zounds! (or something stronger) Sir Walter! You are a witty man; but I will wager that you cannot tell me the weight of the smoke which comes from your pipe!" "I can, indeed," was the confident reply of the gallant courtier. "Watch me closely!" At once he took as much tobacco as would fill his pipe and exactly weighed it. Having then smoked it up, he--in like manner--weighed the ashes. "Now, Your Majesty," said he, smiling. "The difference between these two weights is the weight of the smoke." And again Queen Bess remarked "Zounds!" (or Eftsoons!). At any rate, she paid the wager, for--with all her frailties--she was a Good Loser. Raleigh, in fact, shortly became reinstated in Royal favor, and, when he aided Drake and Hawkins--soon afterwards--in dispersing the Invincible Armada, he was again in the good graces of his sovereign. There was, however, a pretty, young Maid-of-Honor at court, called Elizabeth Throgmorton, and no sooner had the bright eyes of Sir Walter fallen upon her, than he fell in love. In paying court to this amiable lady he was compelled to use great caution and secrecy, for jealous Queen Bess watched him narrowly, and with suspicion. In spite of her preference for Essex, Elizabeth was quite unwilling that Raleigh--her less favored lover--should transfer his affections to another. So, in making love to Elizabeth Throgmorton, the gay courtier was compelled to use the utmost care. But Murder (or Love) will out! It chanced one day, that the Queen discovered what was going on between her Maid-of-Honor and the cavalier. Her rage knew no bounds. She berated Raleigh before her ladies, and forbade him to come to court. She fiercely commanded the Maid-of-Honor to remain a prisoner in her room, and, on no account to see Raleigh again. So the venturous Knight turned his attention once more to wild roving upon the sea. Now the jealous courtiers fairly chuckled with glee. "Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed they. "Ho! Ho! Ho! He! He! He!" But Sir Walter engaged very actively in fitting out some squadrons to attack the Spanish ships. "Egad! I hate a Spaniard!" he said. "They are my country's special enemies and I intend to do them all the harm that I can!" The Queen was glad enough to separate him from his lady love and not only consented to his project, but promised to aid him in it. Ere long fifteen vessels were anchored in the Thames--all ready to sail--but, before he set out, the gallant commander made up his mind that he would marry his beloved Maid-of-Honor. It was not difficult to find a clergyman who would splice him tighter than he ever spliced a rope aboard ship. The deed was done. He set sail. All was going propitiously. "I'll attack the Spanish ships in the harbor of Seville," said Raleigh. "Then--off to the Spanish Main and sack the town of Panama." He laughed,--but what was that? Rapidly approaching from the coast of England came a swift pinnace. It gained upon the squadron in spite of the fact that all sail was hoisted, and, at last came near enough to give Raleigh a signal to "Heave to." In a few moments her commander climbed aboard. "The Queen has changed her mind about your expedition," said he. "She has sent me--Sir Martin Frobisher--to tell you to come home." Raleigh said things which made the air as blue as the sea, but he put back--for he could not disobey the Royal command. He was soon at court. The Queen was furious with anger. "You have disobeyed my commands," said she. "I find you have secretly married my Maid-of-Honor. To the Tower with you! To the dungeons of the Tower!" And all the jealous courtiers were so happy that they danced a can-can in the ante chamber. What do you think of this? Thrown into prison because he loved a Maid and married her! Nowadays "all the World loves a Lover." In those times all the world _might_ have "loved a Lover" except Queen Bess,--and a number of courtiers hanging around within easy call: _They_ kicked a Lover. And then they all got together and said: "Fine! Fine! Now we've got him where he ought to be. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho! Ho!" But women relent; that is one of their chief characteristics. Queen Bess softened, grew lukewarm, finally became molten. "Sir Walter Raleigh can go free," said she. The gallant courtier returned to his country estate, where--with his wife and children he enjoyed the luxuries and comforts of country life. And the jealous courtiers began to look strangely sober. Still the sea called. The sea sang its old song, and, fired with the spirit of adventure, Sir Walter decided upon another expedition: this time to the coast of Guiana, in South America, where, it was said, "billets of gold lay about in heaps, as if they were logs of wood marked out to burn." With a large fleet at his command he soon started upon this expedition for plunder and for fame. This time no Sir Martin Frobisher sailed after him to bring him back to a dungeon in the Tower and he was able to reach his destination. The expedition was a howling success. Whenever and wherever Sir Walter could inflict injury on the Spaniards, whom he so bitterly detested, he did so with eagerness. A Spanish ship was soon seen, chased, and--after a brief, hot fight--surrendered and was boarded. "Egad!" cried Raleigh. "Here's luck, for the cargo's of fire arms. I'll stow them away in my own vessel and let the captive go!" Proceeding on his voyage, he not long afterwards encountered and captured another prize; a Flemish ship sailing homeward with a cargo of fine wine. Twenty hogsheads were transferred to the hold of Raleigh's ship and the captured craft was allowed to sail on,--empty. Things continued to go well. The Island of Trinidad (off Venezuela) was reached at last. The natives were friendly and told of vast deposits of gold far up the river Orinoco. "But would Raleigh not please besiege the Spanish town of St. Joseph?" said they, "and rescue some of their chiefs whom the Spaniards held prisoners--in chains." "I always strike a Spaniard when I can," said Raleigh. "On, men, we'll sack this proud city!" St. Joseph speedily fell into his hands. The chiefs were released. They were so gratified, that they paddled him far up the river, where they found glittering gold, which they tore out of rocks with their daggers. The Englishmen were delighted, and, collecting a mass of nuggets to show to those at home, they put back to the ships, set sail, and were soon in England again. The people were astonished at this exploit, but the jealous courtiers did all they could to deprive Raleigh of the renown which was justly his due. "What this fellow has told is a lie," whispered they into the ears of good Queen Bess. "There is no such place as Guiana. Raleigh has been down upon the coast of Spain and hidden himself. He has not crossed the Atlantic at all." Which proves that no one can ever do anything adventurous without stirring up the hammers of the Envious: the Little Men. Is it not so to-day? Look around! You can hear the carping critic at any time that you may wish! _Do_ something _big_, sometime. Then put your ear to the ground and listen! But the sea called for the fifth time. A vast English fleet was hurled against the Spanish at Cadiz,--a great English fleet, accompanied by an army. England was bound to get even with the Spaniards for daring to launch the supposedly invincible Armada against them--and Sir Walter eagerly sailed for the coast of Spain. The harbor of Cadiz was seen to be fairly jammed full of stately galleons and men-of-war. Arranged in compact rows, close to shore, just below the towering and frowning castle of Cadiz; they were protected, on either side, by fortresses, whence heavy guns peeped forth to defend them. There were nearly sixty large vessels in all, four of which were galleons, and twenty of which were galleys: well-manned and well-armed with small cannon. There were many more ships than in the attacking fleet. It was the evening of June the 20th, 1596. The British vessels rapidly sailed into the harbor, Raleigh leading, in the flagship, the _Water Sprite_; behind him the _Mary Rose_, commanded by his cousin, Sir George Carew; and the _Rainbow_ under Sir Francis Vere. All were eager for the fray, and it was not long before their approach was observed by the Spanish fleet. Instantly a huge galleon, the _Saint Philip_--the largest in the Spanish Navy--swung out of her position, followed by the _Saint Andrew_, second only to her in size. "They're coming to meet me!" cried Raleigh--joyously. Instead of that, the galleons sailed for a narrow strait in the harbor--followed by the rest of the Spanish fleet--and cast anchor just under the stout fortress of Puntal. They arranged themselves in close array and awaited the attack of the English. The English fleet anchored, but at daybreak, the impetuous Raleigh bore down upon the formidable mass of hulking galleons. The sun rays streamed over the old, Spanish town, gilding the pinnaces and spires of the churches, shining brightly upon the flapping pennons of Britisher and Don. The white sails flapped, spars creaked and groaned, the sailors cheered, and--in a moment--the cannon began to bark, like wolf hounds. The fight had begun. Raleigh was the incarnation of battle. Passing rapidly from point to point upon the deck of his vessel, he encouraged and urged on his men, exposed himself as freely as the rest; and whenever a man faltered, there he appeared to urge the faint heart on with words of inspiration and hope. _Roar! Roar! Roar! Zoom! Zoom! Crash!_ The arquebusses spittled and spat; cannon growled; and iron crashed into solid oak planking. The orders were not to board until the fly-boats (long, flat-bottomed vessels with high sterns) came up, which were manned by Dutch allies. For three hours the battle raged, but the fly-boats did not arrive. The Earl of Essex--the commander of this expedition--now ordered his flagship to pass through the advance line of vessels, and make the way to the front. Raleigh was chafing with rage because the fly-boats did not come, yet, in spite of the danger of being shot, he jumped into a light skiff, and was rowed over to the galleon of Essex. "I'll board the _Saint Philip_," cried he, "if the fly-boats do not soon arrive. Even though it be against the orders of the Admiral. For it is the same loss to burn, or to sink, and I must soon endure one or the other." "Go ahead!" yelled Essex, over the bow. "I'll second you, upon my honor!" Raleigh hastened with all speed to the deck of the _Water Sprite_, where his men were pounding away at the Spanish galleons with all their might and main. No sooner had he mounted the poop, than he saw, with anger, that two vessels of his own squadron had forced themselves into a position in front of his own; for their commanders wanted to win first honors in this battle at sea. Raleigh, himself, wished to have the honor, just like other sea captains in later battles. But,--that's another story. So, the gallant seaman ran the _Water Sprite_ between the two other ships and took up his position as leader. Sir Francis Vere of the _Rainbow_ was resolved to keep in front as well as Raleigh. As the _Water Sprite_ passed him he slyly cast a rope to a sailor, who tied it to her stern, and his own vessel thus kept abreast of the lumbering galley of his chief. "But," writes Sir Walter, "some of my company advising me thereof, I caused the rope to be cast off, and so Vere fell back in his place, where I guarded him--all but his very prow--from the sight of the enemy. I was very sure that none would outstart me again for that day." The guns of the fort appeared to be silent and the big galleons lay apparently helpless in the face of the valiant enemy. Raleigh moved on, but, as he was about to clutch his splendid prize, it escaped him, for the Spaniards--finding that they would be captured--made haste to run the _Saint Philip_, and several of her sister ships, aground on the sand. "Blow them up!" came the order. The Spanish sailors and soldiers came tumbling out of the ships into the sea in heaps--"as thick as if coals had been poured out of a sack into many pots at once." Then a terrific roar boomed forth. The air was filled with flying splinters, canvas, iron, and lead. The portions of the galleons were now floating upon the waves and the water was alive with the struggling bodies of the Spaniards as they desperately endeavored to save themselves. The spectacle was lamentable. Many drowned themselves. Many, half burned, leaped into the water; while others hung by the ropes' ends; by the ships' sides; under the sea, even to their lips. "If any man had a desire to see Hell, itself," wrote Sir Walter, "it was there most lively figured!" Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! The English sailors were cheering, for victory was theirs, and of all the gallant warriors of that day, Raleigh had been the most persistently daring and heroic. "The _Saint Andrew_'s still afloat, good Sire!" cried one of his sailors at this moment. "Then we'll take her!" cried Raleigh. She was boarded and captured with little difficulty, while yet another galleon--the _Saint Matthew_--fell into his hands. These were the only vessels of all that proud Spanish fleet which had escaped the flames. Raleigh, himself, had been severely wounded in the leg, but he refused to release the command of his ship. He gave orders that all lives should be spared, and although these mandates were rigidly obeyed by the English soldiers, the Dutch cruelly slaughtered many of their hapless prisoners, for their hatred of the Spaniards was bitter and savage. Cadiz had not yet fallen and Raleigh was determined to go on shore with the troops and witness the taking of the town, in spite of his wound. A litter was prepared for him--he was lowered into one of the boats--rowed ashore, carried upon the shoulders of some of his faithful soldiers, and witnessed the furious struggle which now ensued. Cadiz fell. Although the lives of the people were spared; the castle, fortifications and the greater part of the town itself, were burned and demolished. If you go there, to-day, you will still find the marks of this great and stirring strife. There was nothing left but to put the Spanish prisoners aboard the galleons, collect the plunder, and set sail for England. When the fleet again swung into the little harbor of Plymouth it was received by the people with wildest enthusiasm and delight. All England rang with the praise of the valor and courage of her heroes, for Spain had been stripped of her ability to injure her English rival and England's power was supreme upon the sea. Raleigh and his comrades had done this,--and the descendants of Raleigh and his comrades have continued to uphold the supremacy. Hurrah for Raleigh! But how about those jealous courtiers? They were still around--Oh, yes!--And Raleigh was greeted at court as coldly as when he had departed with the fleet. He had been deprived of his office of Captain of the Queen's Guard, and even his bravery at Cadiz did not win this back for him. Nor did he receive any of the spoil which had been won by himself and his comrades. Even Queen Bess was angry because her share of the booty taken from Cadiz was not as great as she had hoped for. "What the Generals have got," wrote Sir Walter, "I know least. For my own part, I have got a game leg, and am deformed. I have received many good words and exceedingly kind and regardful usage; but I have possession of naught but poverty and pain." Not long afterwards the old Queen was persuaded to write Sir Walter to come to court, and thus he and his wife, whom Elizabeth had also forgiven, appeared daily in the brilliant throng which clustered in the halls and corridors of the Royal Palace. He was restored to his old office of Captain of the Queen's Guard and rode forth again in all the splendor of his uniform, at the side of the sovereign. The rest of Sir Walter's life can be briefly narrated. With Essex he took part in a successful expedition to the Azores, where they captured many ships, and with him divided much booty and fame. But Essex became too ambitious and started a conspiracy to place himself upon the throne of England. It was a failure. He was captured by the Queen's soldiers--a part under Sir Walter himself--was tried, and executed for High Treason. Queen Bess soon died and was succeeded by a man who disliked Sir Walter from the start. This was James the First of Scotland--a "dour" fellow--who charged the valorous knight with treason, for it was alleged that he had conspired, with Lord Cobham, to place the youthful Arabella Stuart upon the throne. He was tried, convicted, and thrown into the Tower, where he lived for twelve long, tedious years. Think of it! A fellow of his venturesome and restless spirit forced to remain in a dungeon-keep for such a time! Weep for brave Sir Walter! This was fine treatment for a patriot! But the jealous courtiers did not weep. Oh no! _They_ laughed. When gallant Sir Walter was thrown into the Tower (for he had not plotted against the King) he was a hale and stalwart cavalier of fifty-two. He was released--after twelve years--when his hair and beard were grizzled, his face worn and wrinkled, his body somewhat bent, and his features grave and sorrowful. With what tearful joy he clasped to his breast his ever faithful wife and his two sons! At sixty-four his brave spirit was still unshaken; his ardent and restless ambition was as keen as ever. He went forth with the sentence of death still hanging over his head; for King James, although giving a grudging consent to his release, had refused to pardon him. And he went forth with the understanding that he should lead an expedition to the coast of Guiana in South America; there to attack the Spaniards and gain plunder, gold, and jewels. If successful he was to go free. If non-successful, he was to suffer punishment--perhaps death! The expedition was a failure. The Spaniards and natives were well aware of his coming, for 'tis said that King James, himself, sent them news of the expedition. "If I go home it's off with my head," said Sir Walter. "But I'll risk it." Don't you think if you had been Sir Walter, instead of sailing to England where you knew that a headsman's axe awaited you, you would have coasted by the shores of the Chesapeake Bay and dropped off quietly where is the home of the canvas-back and the terrapin! Just stepped into one of the jolly-boats and peacefully drifted ashore on a dark night? I think that you would have been strongly inclined to do so,--but _you_ are not Sir Walter Raleigh. _He_ was a lion-hearted adventurer. Opportunity after opportunity came to him to escape to the shores of France. He let them go by, but, when he found that his enemies demanded his trial for treason, he thought it high time to get away. He learned that a French envoy had arranged to get him to France and had a barque for this purpose. A certain Captain King had found a small boat commanded by one of Sir Walter's old boatmen, which lay at Tilbury awaiting his orders. It was arranged by Raleigh's guard--one Stukeley--that he should be rowed to the little lugger on the evening of Sunday, August the 9th, 1618. The latter was sent up the Thames river to Gravesend. At the hour designated, Raleigh, Captain King, Stukeley and his son Hart, with a page, jumped into two small wherries in order to row to the lugger. They had just shoved off, when keen Sir Walter saw another boat push out from the bank and follow them. "How's this?" said he to Stukeley. But silent Stukeley did not answer. The boat rowed fast, but the pursuing craft moved with equal speed. The tide was singing and gurgling in a mad flow, and it became doubtful whether the wherries could reach Gravesend under the protection of darkness, for day was breaking, and the whirling water made progress very slow. At last--seeing that they could not get away--the shallops were forced to turn about and retrace their passage. The pursuing boat swung, also--like a shadow of the first. Sir Walter's heart beat tumultuously. When the fugitives reached Greenwich--Stukeley stood up and appeared in his true colors. Laying a hand upon the shoulder of faithful Captain King, he cried-- "I arrest you in the name of our Monarch, James First!" Raleigh looked around in anger and dismay. "Stukeley," he said with heat, "you are a trait'rous cur. These actions will not turn out to your credit!" But the knave laughed derisively,--so derisively that the common people dubbed him "Sir Judas Stukeley." And it well suited him. Didn't it? The boatmen rowed directly to the Tower and the boat which had pursued the wherries--which contained a courtier named Herbert (to whom Stukeley had betrayed the projected escape)--followed them close. The soldiers in her (for they had been well hidden) escorted the dejected Sir Walter to the grim walls of the dungeon. There was now no hope for that gallant adventurer: the man had brought honor and renown to England. He was tried for Treason: condemned: executed. As he stood waiting for the axe to fall, he said: "I have many sins for which to beseech God's pardon. For a long time my course was a course of vanity. I have been a seafaring man, a soldier, and a courtier; and, in the temptations of the least of these there is enough to overthrow a good mind and a good man. I die in the faith professed by the Church of England. I hope to be saved, and to have my sins washed away by the precious blood and merits of our Saviour, Jesus Christ." A quick shudder ran through the multitude when Sir Walter had ceased to live, and many groaned aloud at the horrible sight. One stout yeoman cried out angrily, "We have not had such another head to be cut off." The crowd separated slowly, muttering and crying out against the enemies of the valiant man; while his friends, who were present, parted with tears coursing down their cheeks. And the jealous courtiers said: "Magnificent!" It was now their turn to shout. And they did it, too. * * * * * So, you see, Sir Walter Raleigh's patriotism was paid for by death. The trouble with him was, he was too much of a man. _Nowadays_--when a soldier or sailor does something for England--they give him a Hip! Hip! Hurray! He is appreciated. He is presented with titles, honors, and a warm reception. _Then_, when a man did something for England, those in power gave him the cold shoulder; the icy stare. That's the reason why England's sons will do something for her now. If she had kept treating them as she did Sir Walter Raleigh she wouldn't have many of them around when it came to a fight. _And, some day, she'll need them all!_ So when a fellow does something really great, don't greet him with frozen silence. _Cheer! He needs it! Besides,--it won't hurt you!_ _Give a tiger and three times three!_ THE VANISHED SAILORS Say, sailors, what's happened to young Bill Jones? Jones of Yarmouth; the bright-cheeked boy? Jones who could handle a boat like a man, Jones, who would grapple a smack like a toy? "_Fell o'er the sea-end with Raleigh. Ahoy!_" Well, sea-dogs, where's Thompson of Yarmouthport dock? The chap who could outwit old Hawkins, they say, The man with th' knowledge of charts and of reefs, There wasn't his equal from Prawle to Torquay. "_Fell o'er the sea-end with Raleigh, to-day!_" Where's Rixey of Hampton; Smith of Rexhill? Who'd coasted and traded from London to Ryde, Huggins and Muggins, all seamen of worth, Who could jibe and could sail, sir, when combers were wide? "_Fell o'er the sea-end with Raleigh. Last tide!_" Well, seamen, when that day shall come near, When the salt sea is moved from its bed, Some will there be, who can give us the news, Of all that brave band, whom Adventure has led To "_Fall o'er the sea-end with Raleigh, 'tis said!_" "Such is the man, Whom neither shape nor danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray; Who, not content that worth stands fast, Looks forward, persevering to the last, From good to better, daily self-surpassed." --_Ballads of the Day._ JEAN BART THE SCOURGE OF THE DUTCH (1650-1702) As long as selfishness remains a Human Passion,--Warfare will continue. JEAN BART THE SCOURGE OF THE DUTCH (1650-1702) "'What means that canvas, Skipper? It's bearing down to port, And it drives a blackish barquentine, with every topsail taut, There're guns upon her poop deck. There're cannon near her bow, And the bugler's bloomin' clarion, it shrills a how-de-row?' The skipper took a peep at her, his face turned ashen pale, His jaw began to tremble, and his knees began to fail, As the flag of France swung to the breeze and fluttered without check, 'Jean Bart!' he gurgled weakly, and fainted on the deck." --_Rhymes of The Dutch Channel Fleet._--1676. The good ship _Cochon Gras_ boiled along off the coast of Normandy under a full spread of canvas, for the breeze was light, and was from the southward. A boy of sixteen stood at the helm. He was well bronzed by exposure to the elements; was sturdy and strong. His dark hair waved luxuriantly about a face in which keenness and shrewdness were easily to be seen. His name was Jean Bart and he had been born at Dunkirk in France. The Captain of the _Cochon Gras_ strode about upon the deck below. He was in an evil mood and his voice showed his ill feeling. "Put the helm over!" he shouted to the steersman. "Don't you see that your sails aren't half full! Boy, will you never learn!" Jean Bart obeyed. "Very good, my Captain!" said he. "Very good, my Monsieur Valbué." And, at this, the captain scowled, for he was in a beastly temper. "I am glad that you act quickly," said he. "You know nothing. By acting quickly you will learn a thing or two. _Tiens!_ Be speedy! Be very quick! Be like the Bishop of Oléron!" He smiled and lurched against the rail. "Ah, this good prelate was a true seaman," said he. "He knew the tides like a mackerel. He knew as much as I do, myself, and that is saying a good deal." Jean Bart chuckled at the vanity of Monsieur Valbué. "The good Bishop was standing on the rocks upon a stormy evening," continued the captain, "when he saw some fisher boats making for the harbor. One of them was bearing too close to the shore. One of them was going to go upon the rocks. One of them was steered by a poor fellow who knew neither the reefs nor the shoals. 'Voilà!' cried the good bishop. 'Voilà! I will save this dull-witted sailor.' And, forthwith, what do you think that he did,--?" A small knot of seamen had, by this time, collected around the talkative captain. They all shook their heads. [Illustration: JEAN BART.] "Fools," cried Captain Valbué. "Fools! Why, he strode into the sea, of course. Being a pure man of God and a member of the true church, he walked upon the surface of the water. The boat coming in was manned by Huguenots, by unbelievers, mark you! By fellows who had neither the sense nor the grace to be members of the true church. _They_ could not walk upon the water. Oh! No! But the good Bishop _he_ walked as easily as a stormy petrel, for he was a man of God. And, as he reached the boat he made the sign of the cross, saying, 'Beware of the rocks which you sail down upon! Bear off to the left! When you see the red buoy, bear to the right, and then come home by keeping your bow pointed for the spire of the big church!' And they did so. They were saved by the good Bishop, whom I know well. As for me. I would have let the foolish Huguenots get their just deserts. It would have been one heretic less and good riddance." At this one of the seamen was plainly angered. "Piff!" said he. "Piff!" That was all. But Monsieur Valbué had noticed it and Monsieur Valbué grew angry in a moment. Seizing a half-empty cider mug, from which he had been drinking, he hurled it at the head of the fellow who had made the remark. "You dog of a Huguenot!" he roared. The seaman dodged, and the cider mug spun into the planks of a jolly boat. Then he stepped forward and said, "Captain Valbué, the Laws of Oléron, under which we sail, say that you cannot and must not strike a seaman with any missile. I, Lanoix, will strike back if you hit me." But Monsieur Valbué was like a bubbling tea-pot. Seizing a hand-spike, he shot it out at the man who knew the law. "The Laws of Oléron allow me just one blow," blubbered Captain Valbué. "Just as the laws of England allow each dog one bite." As luck would have it, he missed his shot. Lanoix leaped over the iron rail which separated the forecastle from the after part of the vessel. Then he turned around. "Follow me here, you coward!" he shouted to the captain, "and I will have the right to crack you through the middle. Consult the Laws of Oléron under which we sail and see if they do not back me up!" "The laws be blowed!" yelled Monsieur Valbué, now beside himself with rage. And, leaping across the rail he struck the Huguenot two sturdy blows in the face. Jean Bart, meanwhile, steered the ship: looked on; and said nothing. R-i-i-p! There was a flash, a blow, and a cry of pain. A large, keen knife was clenched in the strong right hand of Lanoix, and the captain was running red, with a deep gash in his shoulder. "Down with the Mutineer! Down with the dog!" came from the throats of the members of the crew who had clustered about the two enraged men, smiling at the little affair. With a rush they were upon the Huguenot; had forced him to the deck; and wrested the knife from his hand. But, before it was wrenched from his fist, the blade had pierced the body of a seaman and had felled him to the boarding. "Bring up the Laws of Oléron," cried Captain Valbué, when the Huguenot had been secured. "Bring up the Laws of Oléron from my cabin, and let us see whether or no I was right, when I struck this prating Lanoix!" The cabin-boy dove below and was soon again upon the deck. "The law shall be read," cried the captain. "Out with it!" Now, aboard the vessel was one Antoine Sauret--a good, old boatswain--a friend of the father of Jean Bart, and a courageous man. "The law shows you to be in the wrong," said he. "Yes," cried Jean Bart from the wheel, which he had not left. "You were, and are, in the wrong." Monsieur Valbué glowered at them. "I am the law," said he. "Is this not my vessel?" "But the right is on his side," interrupted the good Antoine Sauret. "You wait and see what I do to this cur of a Huguenot," snarled Captain Valbué. "And no more talk from either you or Jean Bart. Hear! Six out of eight of the crew agree that this Lanoix has wounded me and has slain one of his ship-mates--without proper provocation--I will now fix him." And this he did in the most approved manner. Lashing his victim's arm to a sharp sword tied to the windlass, he knocked the unfortunate Lanoix upon the deck with a hand-spike. Then, tying him--still alive--to the dead sailor whom the Huguenot had killed when the crew rushed upon him,--he cried out: "Throw 'em both to the fishes!" They were seized. "One! Two! Three! Heave Away!" sounded from the throats of the Frenchmen. Lanoix and the dead sailor spun out above the blue water. A splash. A gurgle of white foam, and the Atlantic closed above them. Seamen--you witness--were brutes, in these merry days of privateering. But hear the sequel of the gruesome story! Jean Bart and the good boatswain Sauret had, from that moment, no high opinion of the Laws of Oléron. So, when the vessel touched at Calais, upon the coast of France, they walked up to the captain, saying: "Sir. We wish to leave you! We cannot sail any longer beneath your orders." The brutal Valbué scowled. "Go!" said he. "And good riddance." But when the circumstances of the death of the two men were reported to the authorities, the captain was tried. "The Law of Oléron," said the Judge to him, "acquits you, for the Huguenot sailor was in the wrong to draw his knife, when you struck him only with your fists. But it is a bad law and must be changed." Here he turned to young Jean Bart and the good Sauret. "As for you two," said he, "I most highly commend you for protesting against the brutality of this captain. Would that all the sailors of France were as good as both of you. If they were, there would be less trouble aboard ship. Again I commend you!" So--feeling very happy, indeed--young Jean Bart went out into the street. Though only sixteen he had been right in his attempt to save the life of poor Lanoix. Good for young Bart! Hats off to the sailor lad of sixteen who was more merciful than the cruel Law of Oléron! And this brutal set of rules was soon changed to the Maritime Code of France, which gave seamen some right to defend themselves against the attacks of rough and overbearing captains. Thus Jean Bart had started the ball rolling in the right direction. Again hats off to the doughty, young Frenchman! Not long after this event the Dutch fell out with the English and began a smart little war. Jean Bart hastened to the scene of action, enrolled in the Dutch cause, and fought with them for five full years. Then the Dutch began to make war upon the French (in 1672), but this was too much for the patriotic sentiments of the youthful volunteer. "Ah!" said he. "When my own people are attacked, I must hasten to their assistance. The Dutch have paid me well 'tis true, but now I scorn their gold. Vive la France!" So saying, he returned to Dunkirk, speedily found employment, and went to sea again--not in a man-of-war, but in a privateer. He was now four-and-twenty; was wiry, tough, and well used to battling both with men and with the elements. The boat he sailed in mounted only two guns and had a crew of thirty-six. She was named after a famous personage of Biblical history: _King David_, and she conducted herself as skilfully as did that ancient monarch, for was not Jean Bart at the helm? Cruising out upon the treacherous waters of the North Sea, it was not long before a vessel was sighted that was of such small tonnage that Bart was not afraid to give chase. He slapped on all canvas, put his helm hard over, and steered for the dancing bit of canvas. The _King David_ was a swift sailer, and soon the bow-gun spoke from the deck of the French privateer, sending a challenging shot whistling close to the stern of the stranger, who flew the flag of the States General (the Dutch Republic) with which the French were now at war. The stranger did not relish the challenge, and came to in a hurry, while her flag fluttered weakly to the deck. "She's ours!" cried Jean Bart, gleefully. "And without a fight. Hurray for the life of a privateer!" Quickly ranging alongside, the stranger was seen to be a valuable prize, laden with tea, spices, and cotton. She was manned by a small crew and sent to port. "Now off for other luck!" cried Jean Bart. Luck was with him, too. In four months cruising in the English Channel, near the Belgian coast, he captured six prizes; all without any fighting. The Dutch trading vessels of those days must have been without guns and poorly manned, for it should have been easy to stand off a crew of but thirty-six, with only two cannon aboard. Jean Bart--you may be sure--was well satisfied. He was now rich, quite famous, and keen for further adventure. So well did the owners of the privateer _King David_ think of him, that they now put him in charge of a larger vessel named _La Royale_, carrying about eighty men and ten guns. "Go out and win!" cried the chief owner of this privateer. "Jean Bart, you are followed by the best blood of France. Your men are all from Dunkirk!" And Jean Bart smiled. "Watch me!" said he. Cruising near the coast of Holland in company with a small French gun-boat, he fell in with a man-of-war--the _Esperance_--carrying twelve guns and about one hundred and twenty men. "Now we'll have a real fight!" cried the youthful French commander as he cleared decks for action. "Men, see to it that your swords are sharpened for there may be some boarding!" Then he signalled to the little French gun-boat to follow him and give battle. This ally carried about a hundred men and six cannon. "Poof! Poof!" The heavy guns of the Dutchman were the first to speak and they barked away like fat Newfoundland watch-dogs. "Poof! Poof! B-o-o-m!" Jean Bart reserved his fire until within about seventy-five yards and then he gave the command, "Fire away! Aim low! And try to hull her!" A sheet of flame sprang from the ten guns of _La Royale_ and a splitting of boards and crackling of splinters showed that the iron missiles had punctured the stout sides of the _Esperance_. "Pop! Pop! Crash!" The other French vessel now threw her lead into the stern of the defender of the flag of the States General and her mizzen-mast was seen to rock like an unfastened May pole. "Whow!" The _Esperance_ was not slow in answering back and her twelve guns spat like leopards in the brush. She filled away and bore towards the land, but the French gun-boat saw this move and checkmated it. Sailing across her bow, the Frenchman raked her fore and aft, while the rub-a-dub-dub of Jean Bart's guns went drumming against her starboard side. Crash! Crash! Crash! Her boards were split, her mizzen-mast was swaying, and her rigging was near cut in two. Men were falling fast and two of her guns had blown up and were rendered useless. "Surrender!" came a sharp hail from the lusty throat of Jean Bart, and, as he spoke, a perfect hail of grape came from his French ally, now creeping up to port for a chance to grapple and board. "What can I do?" sighed the stout, Dutch commander, turning to one of his lieutenants. "Boy, haul down our flag!" So down came the emblem of the States General amidst ringing cheers from the throats of the followers of Jean Bart. They had won a notable victory. When the _Esperance_ was towed and half-sailed into Dunkirk harbor, old Antoine Sauret was there. "Ah, my friends," said he, "I always told you that my boy, Jean Bart, would make a great name for himself. Three times three for the great privateer of Dunkirk!" And all the bystanders joined in right willingly. Not long after this event, our hero's ship was lying in the harbor of Bergen in Sweden. The captain of an English vessel met him on shore, and, after having a chat with him, remarked: "I hear that you have quite a reputation for fighting your ship. I, too, am a sea warrior and would like to have a little affair with you. My own vessel is of about the same tonnage as yours, so that we could meet upon even terms. Will you join me?" "I would be delighted," answered the war-like Jean Bart. "If you wait two days I will be ready for you and will fight you three miles off the coast. Meanwhile I must lie here and take on some stores which are much needed by both men and guns." The Englishman smiled. "You are a man after my own heart," said he. "Good-by until we meet in battle." Three days after this, Jean Bart sent a boy to the English vessel with a note for the captain. It ran: "I am ready to fight you to-morrow. Meet me three miles beyond the breakwater and may the best man win. Until then--good luck. "Yours for battle, "JEAN BART." The boy came back bearing a return missive from the Englishman, who wrote: "MONSIEUR BART: I am delighted to learn that you want to fight me, and will do so. You are indeed a brave man. But--before we go for each other's throats--pray let us breakfast together. Will you therefore take your morning meal with me, to-morrow, in my own cabin, aboard my ship? I shall expect you. "Yours to count on, "MIDDLETON." "I do not want to accept, but I will," mused Captain Bart. "These English fellows are far too polite." So, next morning, he was rowed to the British vessel and was soon breakfasting with his red-faced opponent. After the meal the Frenchman lighted his pipe, took a few puffs, and said: "Monsieur, I have greatly enjoyed this peaceful repast. But it is now time for me to go and sharpen my boarding-pike. I must bid you adieu." The Englishman smiled. "No," said he. "You cannot go. You are my prisoner!" Jean Bart still smoked. "You are too quick!" he answered, slowly. "There you are wrong. I am not your prisoner, for I see a barrel of gunpowder on the deck, and, if you do not release me immediately, I will blow up your ship!" The Englishman turned pale. "Watch me!" cried Jean Bart. Leaping from his seat, he rushed to the deck, lighted a match from his pipe, and held it directly over the mouth of a barrel of gunpowder, from which someone had pried the head. "Lay on! You cowards!" he yelled. "Lay on, and we'll all go to the Land of the Hereafter together." His cry was heard upon his own vessel, which--with sails up--lay waiting for him. In a moment her bow was turned towards the British ship which was still at anchor, with sails unhoisted. In a moment she dropped down alongside--and--in less time than it takes to tell--the Frenchmen had brought her upon the port quarter, and were swarming across the deck to rescue their bold captain. Taken by surprise, the English put up a plucky fight, but they were no match for the infuriated men of Dunkirk. They were soon overpowered. The captain was taken prisoner, and the vessel was considered a legitimate prize of war, because of the trick which Middleton had attempted to play upon Jean Bart. When--in a few days--the prize was sailed into Dunkirk harbor--the Englishman well wished that he had not attempted to capture the most able privateersman of all France. The fame of this exploit spread over the land, and gave rise to a ditty, which ran: "If you want to catch Jean Bart, sir, A slippery, slimy chap, Don't bait him with gunpowder, For he's sure to miss the trap. You must splice him down with chains, sir; You must nail him to the deck. Put a belt around his middle, And a collar 'round his neck. Even then you cannot hold him, For he's certain to get through, While his sailors sing a song, sir, With a Cock- a- doodle- doo!" In July, 1675, Jean Bart was married, but he did not remain long on shore. Three weeks after this auspicious event he once more put to sea and captured a number of Dutch fishing boats, which he allowed the captains to ransom for large sums of money. This was a very convenient arrangement, for it saved him the trouble of putting part of his own crew on board and sending the boats to port. But the owners of _La Royale_, upon which he sailed, did not care for his methods of procedure. "You cannot do this in future!" said they. "And you must forfeit half of what you took to us!" Jean Bart obeyed, but he was very angry. It is even said that he uttered "a round seaman's oath." So successful was he, in fact, that he was given a much larger vessel in 1676. This was a frigate--the _Palme_--with twenty-four guns and a crew of one hundred and fifty men. Sailing into the North Sea with two small French gun-boats, he soon fell in with three Dutch privateers and eight armed whaling vessels. He attacked, and the battle raged for three long, bloody hours. When the smoke and the fumes of sulphur burned away, Bart had boarded the largest privateer, while his two consorts had taken the eight whalers. The other Dutch privateers found it too hot for their liking and scudded for the coast, firing their stern-guns derisively as they disappeared. It was a great victory, and again the French coast rung with salvos for Jean Bart, while the old sea-dogs shrugged their shoulders, saying: "Ah! Ha! Did we not tell you that Dunkirk bred men of bone and marrow. Ah! Ha!" But Jean Bart was not happy. "Would that I could meet a foe of my own force," he used to say. "Either a man-of-war or a privateer, I don't care which. I want to try it on with one of my own size and strength." His wish was soon to be gratified. On September 7th, 1676, he was pointing the _Palme_ towards the Belgian coast-line, when he sighted a number of sail on the starboard quarter. He headed for them; scanned the white dots through a glass, and saw that this was a fishing fleet of small, unarmed luggers. But a big, hulking Dutch frigate hovered in their rear, and thirty-two guns pointed their brown muzzles menacingly from her open port-holes. She was the _Neptune_ and she lazed along like a huge whale: omnipotent and self-satisfied. "Ah ha!" cried the delighted Jean Bart. "Now I have met an enemy that is worthy of my steel. Up with the flag and sail into yonder Dutchman. We have but twenty-four guns to her thirty-two, but are we to be awed by this show of force? Be ready, my boys, to have the stiffest fight in your careers!" The Dutchman was equally well pleased when he saw who was coming for him. "Here is Jean Bart, the pirate and privateer," he cried. "For three years I've been hoping to have a fight with him and now my chance has come at last. I am fortunate, for I can pay him back for all the damage that he has done to Dutch commerce. Shoot low, my hearties, and do not fail to hull our enemy. Let your war-cry be: 'Down with Jean Bart and his pirate crew!'" "Hurrah!" shouted his men. And an answering "Hurray!" came from the _Palme_. These opponents were as eager to get at each other as two prize-fighters of modern days. _Crash!_ roared a broadside from the Dutch frigate as her flag went aloft, and splash, splash, splash, went her shells around the sides of the privateer. "Sail in close!" yelled Jean Bart. "Hug her to leeward for awhile, then cross her bows, rake her, get her wind, and board." "Hurray!" shouted the men of Dunkirk, and a rattle, rattle, roar came from the port guns of the _Palme_. Around and around swung the sea gladiators and the little fishing boats luffed and tittered on the waves like inquisitive sparrows. "Bart cannot win!" said several of their skippers. "For he's outweighted and outnumbered!" But Bart was fighting like John Paul Jones. Around and around went the two opponents, guns growling, men cheering, sails slapping and ripping with the chain and solid shot. Again and again Jean Bart endeavored to get a favorable position for boarding and again and again he was forced to tack away by the quick manoeuvres of the Dutchman. "Fire into her rigging!" he now thundered. "Cripple those topsails and I can bring my boat alongside." "_Crash! Crash! Crash!_" Volley after volley puffed from the side of the rolling _Palme_. Volley after volley poured its lead and iron into the swaying rigging of the Dutchman, and, with a great roaring, ripping, and smashing, the mizzen topmast came toppling over the lee rail. A lusty cheer sounded from the deck of the _Palme_. "She's ours!" cried Jean Bart, smiling. Instantly he spun over the wheel, luffed, and brought his boat upon the starboard quarter of the Dutchman, who was now part helpless. It took but a moment to run alongside, and, in a moment more, the _Palme_ was lashed to the _Neptune_ in a deadly embrace. Smoke rolled from the sides of both contestants and the roar of the guns drowned the shrill cries of the wounded. The Dutchmen were now desperate and their guns were spitting fire in rapid, successive volleys; but many of them were silenced, as the great, brown side of the _Palme_ rubbed its planking against the splintered railing of the shattered _Neptune_. As the vessels were securely bound together, Jean Bart seized a boarding-pike, a brace of pistols, and, giving the helm to a sailor, leaped into the waist of his ship. "Board! Board!" he shouted. A wild yelp greeted these welcome sounds. As he vaulted over the rail of his own ship to the deck of the stranger, a motley crew of half-wild sea-savages swarmed behind him. They had cutlasses and boarding-pikes, and their faces were blackened with powder. Their eyes were reddened with sulphurous fumes and their clothes torn with splintered planking. They rolled over the gunwales like a huge wave of irresistible fire: pistols spitting, pikes gleaming, cutlasses glistening in the rays of the sun. The captain of the _Neptune_ lay near his own wheel, grievously wounded. "Lay on, men!" he shouted. "Don't let this French privateer beat us. We will be disgraced." But his sailors were no match for the onrush of these fiends from Dunkirk. They fell back like foam before a sea squall. "Then down with our flag," cried the captain of the Dutchman. "But, ye gods, how it hurts me to give the order." A sailor seized the halyards and pulled the ensign to the deck, and, as it fell upon the reddened planking, a wild, frenzied cheer came from the French privateers. "Jean Bart, forever! France forever! Jean Bart forever!" they cried. "Up with the French flag!" yelled Jean Bart, laughing like a boy. "Up with the white lilies of France." And, as a spare ensign ran aloft, the little fishing luggers scudded for the shore. "After them, men!" cried Captain Bart. "Our work is not yet over. We must have the lambs as well as the old wolf." So, sail was soon clapped on the _Palme_, she headed for the fleeing boats, and, with a few well directed shots, hove them to. Then they were told to follow behind and head for France, which they did--but, oh! how it did hurt! It was a proud moment for Jean Bart, and his eyes danced with pleasure when he sailed into Dunkirk with the captured _Neptune_ and the fleet of fishing boats. "Voilà!" cried the townspeople. "Jean Bart is a true hero. Voilà! He shall have the freedom of the city. Voilà!" The fame of this gallant exploit soon spread abroad and the king showed some desire to see this courageous privateersman. "I would have him at court," said he to his minister Colbert. "For I would reward him." When news of this was brought to the privateersman he was naturally delighted, and, travelling to Versailles, was ushered into the presence of his Majesty. "Here is a gold chain for you," said the king. "I trust that you will keep it in recognition of my appreciation of your gallant conduct. I would be glad, indeed, to have you in the Royal Service. Would you not take a commission?" "You overwhelm me," answered the valiant sea-fighter, blushing. "I--I--I--am quite disconcerted. But--if it would please your Majesty, I believe that I would prefer to remain a simple privateer. It is a free life and it suits my roving nature." The king chuckled. "So be it," said he. "But my good sir, keep yourself in readiness for a commission. I may need you in the Royal Marine!" "Very good, Sire!" said Jean Bart, and, bowing low, he withdrew. But he did not get away without an adventure,--quite as exciting as any he had had aboard the rocking decks of one of his privateer ships. The fame of Jean Bart had stirred up a number of enemies, for, when a man is successful in life, are there not always a hundred unsuccessful fellows who stand about and scoff? Among these were a few followers of the sea who had determined to make way with this too fortunate privateer. One--Jules Blanc by name--even decided upon murder, if Jean Bart would not agree to leave the privateering business to himself and his companions. As the sailor from Dunkirk left the presence of the king he was accosted by one of his old acquaintances. "Ha, Jean Bart," said he. "Come with me to the Inn. Have a glass with me, my boy, for I see that the king has richly rewarded you. You deserve it, for you have done well, and you must be tired from your journey. Come, let us dine together?" Suspecting nothing, the gallant privateer followed his companion quite willingly, and, when he arrived at the Inn, was not surprised to find several other seamen from Dunkirk and the neighboring seaports of France. They greeted him warmly. "To your health!" cried they, raising their glasses of wine. "To the health of the bravest privateer in all of France." Jean Bart was delighted. He smiled like a child, seated himself at their table, and began to drink with these jovial men of the sea. As he sat there, suddenly a paper was mysteriously shoved into his hand. He did not see from whence it came, and, as he scanned its contents, his face grew strangely pale. "Beware of these fellows," he read. "They mean to kill you if you do not do what they wish. Beware!" Jean Bart soon regained his composure. "Come! Let us go to the dining-room up-stairs," said the friend who had first accosted him. "Come, my boys! We will there have far more quiet!" All moved for the door. Jean Bart moved, also, but before he went up-stairs, he loosened his sword-belt and cocked two pistols which he carried at his waist. He was not surprised when he saw them lock the stout door as they entered the room upon the second floor. When they were all seated Jules Blanc arose. His face well exhibited his dislike for the successful privateersman, Jean Bart. "Now, my friend," said he, facing the man from Dunkirk, "we have you here with a purpose. We wish you to know that we are determined that you shall no longer go to sea and spoil our own business for us. You have had enough success. We want you to withdraw and give some one else a chance." Jean Bart smiled. "We think that you should retire for we want some pickings for ourselves." "And if I refuse?" queried Jean Bart. Jules Blanc placed his hand instantly upon his sword-hilt. "Then--there will be trouble!" "Poof!" said Jean Bart. As he spoke, all drew their rapiers. "Again Poof!" said Jean Bart. As he spoke, a thrust came from his right. He parried it, leaped upon a chair, and stood there smiling. Crack! There was the sound of a pistol and a bullet whizzed by his ear. Then there was a sudden and awful _Crash!_ The room was filled with dust. When the startled sea-dogs looked about them Jean Bart no longer stood upon the table. He had disappeared through the window. And broken glass with splintered fastenings was all that remained of the once perfect glazing. "He has gone," said Jules Blanc. "Fellow seamen, we are outdone." But Jean Bart was a quarter of a mile away, laughing softly to himself, as he sped along the highway which led to quiet Dunkirk. Things went well with him, also, for his employers--appreciating his past services--now gave him command of a larger ship than the _Palme_: the _Dauphin_, with thirty guns and two hundred eager and adventurous sailors from the northern coast of France. Sailing forth from Dunkirk harbor, on June 18th, 1678, Jean Bart eagerly scanned the horizon with his glass. With him were two smaller privateers, so that he felt well able to cope with any adversary from Holland. His keen glance was soon to be rewarded, for when but two days from port he spied a sail upon the starboard bow. It was a Dutch frigate--the _Sherdam_--of forty guns and manned by many stout dogs of the sea. Her captain--André Ranc--was a keen fighter and a man of well-tried courage. "Bear off to leeward!" signalled Jean Bart to his privateer companion. "Then we will get the stranger between us, fasten to her, and board her from either side." The flag of the French privateer dipped back an answering, "All right!" and, as she was nearest to the Dutchman, she attacked at once. "_Poom! Poom!_" went the Dutch cannon, like the beating of a churn in that land of canals and cheese-making. And _piff! piff!_ answered the little howitzers of the privateer. But Jean Bart meant to have a quick fight, so he bore down to starboard, wore ship, and ran so close to the enemy, that his grappling irons soon held her fast. In a moment more his own vessel was hauled alongside. Meanwhile the smaller French privateer had spanked over to larboard; had run up upon the opposite side of the lumbering Dutchman; and had also gripped her. A wild, nerve-wracking cheer went up, as--sword in hand--Jean Bart led his boarders over the side of the Dutch vessel. Ranc was badly wounded but he led his men to a counter assault with courage born of desperation. Cutlasses crashed together, boarding-pikes smashed and hacked, and pistols growled and spattered in one discordant roar. Back went the Dutch sailors fighting savagely and bluntly with all the stubbornness of their natures, then back they pushed the followers of Jean Bart, while Ranc called to them: "Drive these French curs into the sea!" [Illustration: "JEAN BART LED HIS BOARDERS OVER THE SIDE OF THE DUTCH VESSEL."] But now the other privateer had made fast, and her men came clambering over the rail, with cutlass, dirk, and pistols. "We're outnumbered," Ranc shouted, his face showing extreme suffering. "Haul down the flag! Had Jean Bart been here alone I could have trounced him well." Thus reluctantly and sadly the flag of the _Sherdam_ came down. But the French had paid well for their victory. Jean Bart was badly wounded in the leg; his face was burned by the discharge of a gun, which went off--almost in his eyes--just as he leaped on board the _Sherdam_. Six of his men were killed and thirty-one were wounded, while the little privateer that had fastened to the other flank of the huge _Sherdam_, was a total wreck. So well, indeed, had the Dutch fighters plied their cannon as she approached, that she was shattered almost beyond repair. With great difficulty she was finally towed to shore. Of course all France again rang with the fame of Jean Bart, while the crafty sea-dogs who had endeavored to capture the slippery privateersman were furious with envious rage. But Jean Bart hummed a little tune to himself, which ran, "You'll have to get up early if you want to catch Jean Bart, You'll have to get up early, and have a goodly start, For the early bird can catch the worm, if the worm is fast asleep, But not if it's a privateer, who can through a window leap." This invincible corsair was also not idle, for in two weeks' time he was again at sea in the _Mars_ of thirty-two guns, and a fast sailer. Eagerly looking for prizes, he cruised far up the coast of Holland and was keenly hunting for either merchantman or frigate, when a small vessel neared him, upon which was flying a white flag. "A truce!" cried Jean Bart. "The war must be over." When the little boat drew nearer, a fat Dutchman called out something which sounded like, "Amsterdam yam Goslam!" which meant, "Peace has been declared," in Dutch. So Jean Bart sailed back into the sheltering harbor of Dunkirk with tears of sorrow in his eyes, for he loved his exciting life. "Helas!" said he. "It is all over!" Thus, indeed, ended the career of Jean Bart as a privateer captain. In January, 1679, he was given the commission of lieutenant in the French navy, but, although he accepted, he was never happy in this service. From captain to lieutenant was a decided come down, and besides this, the aristocratic officers of the Crown made life very unpleasant for one who had entered their ranks from privateering. "Bah!" said they. "He is only a commoner!" And they would turn up their titled noses. But--mark you this! Several hundred years have passed since those days, and Jean Bart's name is still remembered. Who remembers the names of any of these titled nobles who held commissions from his Majesty, the King of France? I do not think that any of you do. Certainly I do not. Therefore, there is a little lesson to be learned, and it is this: Never sneer at the fellow who accomplishes things, if he be of humble birth. _His_ name may go down to history. _Yours_ probably will not. So, the next time that you are tempted to do this, think it over. If you do, you will not say, "Pish,--the Commoner!" But you will say, "Well done! The Hero!" So, good-by, Jean Bart, and may France produce your like again, if she can! "Keep these legends, gray with age, Saved from the crumbling wrecks of yore, When cheerful conquerors moored their barques Along the Saxon shore." --THOMPSON. DU GUAY-TROUIN THE GREAT FRENCH "BLUE" (1673-1736) "Self trust is the essence of Heroism."--PLUTARCH. DU GUAY-TROUIN THE GREAT FRENCH "BLUE" (1673-1736) "He's only a scurvy Democrat, his blood is hardly blue, Oh, Sacre Nom de Dieu! Sapristi! Eet is true! Yet, he fights like the Maid of Orleans, with dirk and halberd, too, Oh, Sacre Nom de Dieu! Sapristi! Eet is true! Then--what'll you think, good gentlemen, you men of the kingly pack, Ye sons of Armand the Terrible, ye whelps of Catouriac, Shall _he_ gain the royal purple? Shall _he_ sit in the ranks with us? Shall _he_ quaff of our golden vintage, shall _he_ ride in the royal bus? Nay! Nay! For that would be te-r-r-ible! Nay! Nay! _That ill-born cuss?_ Par donc! but that is unbearable! 'Twould result in a shameful fuss! Pray, let him remain a Democrat--The cream of the fleet for us." --_Song of the French Royal Marine._--1695. "You _must_ be a churchman, Rénee," said the good Luc Trouin, turning to his little son. "I have always had a great ambition to have a child of mine in the church, and I feel that you are in every way qualified for the position of a prelate." But little Rénee hung his head. "Look up, boy," continued the amiable Frenchman. "I know that you are not now pleased with the idea, but--later on--after you have had more experience, I feel sure that you can thank Heaven that your good father started you in the right and proper direction." Still, little Rénee hung his head. "Tut! Tut!" continued the old man. "You will leave, to-morrow, for the college at Rheims, and, after you have been there but a short time, I feel sure that you will like it. Tut! Tut!" But still little Rénee hung his head. Again came the amiable "Tut! Tut!" and the chuckling Luc Trouin wandered off into the garden to see how well the potatoes were growing. But little Rénee still hung his head. And--in spite of the fact that little Rénee went to the Divinity school at Rheims, he continued to hang his head. He hung his head for three years. Then, news was brought to him, one day, that the good Luc Trouin was dead, and, instead of holding his handkerchief to his eyes to wipe away the tears, as one would expect of him, little Rénee burst into loud laughter. "At last," cried he, "I can get away from the church and go to sea. At last my freedom has come!" And it was not many hours before little Rénee was scudding away from the school of Divinity, like a clipper-ship under a full spread of canvas, before a rousing sou'west breeze. For at least two hundred years before the birth of bad, little Rénee, the Trouin family had been well known and prosperous in the Breton seaport of St. Malo. For many years a Trouin had been consul at Malaga, Spain; and other members of the house had held excellent positions with the King, so little Rénee had no reason to be ashamed of his forebears, in spite of the fact that his people were of the "bourgeoisie:" ship-owners, traders, smugglers, privateers, and merchants. And, as they were of the "bourgeoisie," they were somewhat looked down upon by the proud and haughty aristocrats who fawned about the weak and dissipated King. Little Rénee was the son of Luc Trouin and Marguerite Boscher but he was called Du Guay-Trouin, in later years, and the reason for this is plain. For--in accordance with the custom of the time--he was sent to be nursed by a foster mother who resided in the little village of Le Gué. So he was called Trouin du Gué; which shortly became Du Guay-Trouin. "I've come home, mother," shouted little Rénee, when he had plodded his weary way which lay between his temporary prison and the house of his parents. "I've come home, mother, and I'm going to sea!" But his mother did not take any too kindly to this bold and valiant idea. "You must study law," said she, with great firmness. And--in spite of the fact that little Rénee begged and pleaded--he was forced to give up his idea of seafaring life for the dry drudgery and routine of a clerk at law. He was now about sixteen years of age. "The law is dry and my spirits are high," youthful Rénee is said to have carolled as he spent his first few hours at a lecture, "and whatever may be I'm going to sea." At any rate, he soon got into trouble and engaged in three duels in his sixteenth year, in one of which his assailant gave him a serious wound. This was too much for even his stern mother to bear, so, summoning a family council, she gave forth the following opinion: "Rénee has failed as a student of Divinity. Rénee has failed as a student of law. Rénee has entirely too high spirits. Rénee shall, therefore, be placed in one of the family ships and sent to sea." And to this decree Rénee is said to have cried: "At last! Hurray!" for he longed for action. In a very short time little Rénee had a taste of that war and adventure which he craved, for a historian writes that: "During the first three months of this cruise his courage was tried by a violent tempest, an imminent shipwreck, the boarding of an English ship, and the threatened destruction of his own vessel by fire. The following year, still as a volunteer, he displayed the greatest personal courage and won much fame in an engagement which his ship had with five merchant vessels." "Ah ha," said little Rénee, "this is indeed life. I am having a good time." So well did those higher in command feel towards the youthful sailor, that, at the age of eighteen, he was actually put in charge of the ship _Danycan_ of fourteen guns,--for France was at war with England, Holland, and Spain, and to him who could strike a quick and well-aimed blow there were "nice pickings" to be had. And the reckless young sea-dog found some "nice pickings" in Ireland, for, he landed an armed party upon the coast of County Clare, where he pillaged a village, burned two ships at anchor, and escaped to his own vessel with considerable booty and family heirlooms of the peasants, who said, "Och, Begorra! We'll be afther that wild bhoy before many suns, and spank him for his unseemly whork." But the French cried "Voilà! Here, indeed, is a brave young Bourgeois," and promptly raised him to the command of the _Coetquen_ of eighteen guns, in which he soon went cruising, accompanied by a sister-ship, the _St. Aaron_. Prowling around the English channel, the skulking sea-hounds soon came across two small English men-of-war with five valuable merchantmen under their sheltering wings. "All ready for the attack!" shouted Du Guay-Trouin. "We'll make mince-meat of those foreign hulks, in spite of the fact that they are protected by two men-of-war." And, crowding on all sail, his own vessel and the _St. Aaron_ quickly bore down upon the Englishmen, who, seeing them approach, hove-to for action. The engagement was short. After a few broadsides had been delivered, the English struck, the prizes were taken over, and all started for the coast of France. But suddenly a cry went up, "Sail ho! Sail ho! off the starboard bow!" "Ta Donc," cried the surprised Du Guay-Trouin. "It is a big man-of-warsman and a Britisher too. We must give up our prizes, I fear. Clap on all canvas and we'll hie us to shore." So all sail was hoisted, and, steering for the shoals and rocks off Lundy Island--where he knew that the heavy Englishman could not follow--Du Guay-Trouin soon outdistanced and outwitted the _Centurion_: a line-of-battle ship and a formidable opponent. The rich prizes had to be left behind. Honorable appointments crowded upon the daring, young sea-dog, after this affair, and we find him successively in command of the _Profond_, of thirty-two guns; the _Hercule_, of twenty-eight guns, and the _Diligente_ of thirty-six guns and two hundred and fifty sailors, which was a King's ship borrowed for privateering and run on shares,--the monarch to have a certain part of the winnings. Like partners in business the _Diligente_ and _Hercule_ now went cruising, and it was not long before the two harpies swooped down upon their prey in the shape of two Dutch East Indiamen, armed with twenty-five guns each, and manned by rotund-bodied Dutchmen. There was rich treasure aboard, and, with eagerness and zeal, the Frenchmen slapped on all canvas in pursuit. Now was a hot chase. Mile after mile was passed, and slowly but surely the Frenchmen gained upon the lumbering foe. Then suddenly,-- _Crash!_ A ball screamed above the head of Du Guay-Trouin, and a Dutchman hove-to for battle. "Crawl in close," cried the valiant Frenchman, "and don't let go a broadside until you can hit 'em below the water line. Try to scuttle the Dutch lumber merchant!" His men obeyed him willingly and soon there was a muffled roar as the first broadside spoke in the still air. Another and another followed, and the Dutchman trembled like an aspen leaf. "Hah," shouted the enthusiastic Rénee, "up goes the white flag!" Sure enough, the vessel struck, and aboard of her was the Dutch commodore. But the _Hercule_ was beaten off by the second Dutchman, and, as the privateers boarded the captured vessel, the East Indiaman showed a clean pair of heels, under a cloud of bellying canvas. Du Guay-Trouin was delighted. "On we go, Boys," he cried, "for we'll sail these waters until we strike another prize." And this is what soon happened. On May the 12th, the _Diligente_ was cruising alone, when, suddenly six white dots appeared upon the horizon, and six British ships-of-the-line were soon closing in upon the venturous French navigator and his crew. "Ye Gods," cried the doughty Frenchman, "we're in for it now, but we will give them a lively bout even though we'll get the worst of it." And here is how he has described the battle: "One of the English ships named _Adventure_ first overtook me, and we maintained a running fight for nearly four hours, before any other of their ships could come up.... "At length my two topmasts were shot away; on which the _Adventure_ ranged up alongside me, a short pistol-shot off, and hauled up her courses. Seeing her so near, it occurred to me to run foul of her and board her with my whole crew. Forthwith I ordered such of the officers as were near to send the people on deck, got ready the grapnels, and put the helm over. "We were just on the point of hooking on to her, when unfortunately, one of my Lieutenants, looking out through a port and seeing the two ships so close together, took it into his head that there was some mistake, as he could not think that--under the circumstances--I had any intention of boarding; and so, of himself, ordered the helm to be reversed. "I had no idea of what had been done, and was impatiently waiting for the two ships to clash together, ready to throw myself on board the enemy; but seeing that my ship did not obey her helm, I ran to the wheel, and found it had been changed without my order. "I had it again jammed hard on; but perceived, with the keenest vexation, that the captain of the _Adventure_, having guessed by the expression of my face what I had meant to do, had let fall his courses, and was sheering off. We had been so near that my bowsprit had broken his taffrail; but the mistake of my Lieutenant made me lose the opportunity of one of the most surprising adventures ever heard tell of. "In the determination I was in to perish or to capture this ship, which was much the fastest sailor of the squadron, it was more than probable that I should have succeeded, and should thus have taken back to France a much stronger ship than that which I abandoned. And, not to speak of the credit which would have attached to the execution of such a plan, it is quite certain that--being dismasted--there was absolutely no other way for me to escape from forces so superior." But closer--always closer--crowded the British war-dogs, and the valorous French seamen became panic stricken. "We are outnumbered and outfought," cried many, and, deserting their guns, they fled below to the holds, in spite of the vigorous protests of Du Guay-Trouin. "I was busy trying to put a stop to the panic," says he. "I had cut down one and pistolled another, when, to crown my misfortune, fire broke out in the gun-room. The fear of being blown up made it necessary for me to go below; but, having got the fire put out, I had a tub full of grenades brought me, and began throwing them down into the hold. "By this means I compelled the deserters to come up and to man some of the lower deck guns; but, when I went up on the poop, I found, to my astonishment and vexation, that some cowardly rascal had taken advantage of my absence to haul down the colors. "I ordered them to be hoisted again; but my officers represented that to do so would be simply giving up the remnant of my ship's company to be butchered by the English, who would give no quarter if the flag were hoisted again, after being struck for so long, and that further resistance was hopeless as the ship was dismasted." "Never give in, for"--cried Du Guay-Trouin, whose democratic blood was now up, but he did not finish the sentence as a spent shot then knocked him senseless. And--as he fell--the white flag went aloft, for his officers had not his fighting spirit. "Ah ha," laughed the English jack-tars. "We've got the French rascal at last, and we'll hold him too." So little Rénee was imprisoned in a nice, dark dungeon,--the kind which the English used to put their poor debtors in. But--like a true man of courage--little Rénee escaped, took to a smuggler's skiff, and made off to the coast of France, where he arrived on the 18th of June, 1694, and was received right boisterously by the Trouin family. "My son," spoke his aged mother, "you were indeed not intended for the law, for lawlessness seems to be your particular fancy." So the delighted Trouins put him in charge of a splendid privateersman mounting forty-eight guns, sailing under the simple name of _Francois_, and, as she forged valiantly into the English channel, her skipper chanted an old French song, which ran,-- "Sons of St. Malo, hark to my lay, With a Heave! Ho! Blow the man down. For we'll capture a lugger ere close of the day, With a Heave! Ho! Blow the man down. "She's filled with gold nuggets, her crew is asleep, Then board her, and take her, for dead men are cheap, We'll spike them and pike them, like so many sheep. With a Heave! Ho! Blow the man down." It was not long before a sail was sighted, and, on the 12th day of January, 1695, the stout, little _Francois_ overhauled a solitary timber ship, loaded with huge trees, bound to England from the good town of Boston in New England. She was an easy capture, and, Du Guay-Trouin smiled with joy when her skipper said: "Three other lumber ships are in the offing. But they are under convoy of the frigate _Nonsuch_ with forty-eight guns, and the _Falcon_ with thirty-eight cannon. Look out my bold sea-dog, there'll be trouble." But the French mariner laughed. "It's just what I'm searching for," said he, and forthwith he swung the stout _Francois_ in wide circles, with look-outs at every mast-head. "Sail ho!" shouted the watch, next morn, and there, off the port bow, were the three merchantmen strung out in a line, with the two protecting gun-boats to windward. Like a greyhound the _Francois_ swept down upon them, and with the audacity of despair, the privateersman of St. Malo ranged alongside of the _Falcon_ and opened fire. The engagement was short. In an hour's time the guns of the Englishman were silent and a white pennon fluttered from the mizzen-mast. The _Nonsuch_, meanwhile, had been ranging to windward in a vain endeavor to bring her guns to bear upon the Frenchman without crippling her own mate, and--as the _Francois_ drifted away from the lurching _Falcon_--she bore down to within twenty yards, luffed, and spanked a rakish broadside into the privateer. "Board her!" shouted Du Guay-Trouin. "Board her!" and, bringing the wheel close around, he swung the bow of the _Francois_ into the side of the Englishman. But, as the sailors scampered to the bulwarks with cutlass and with dirk, a sheet of flame burst from the port-holes of the drifting _Nonsuch_. She was afire. "Luff! Luff!" cried the keen-eyed French mariner, and the _Francois_ drew away as the red flames curled upward with a cruel hiss. With a swift turn the helm again spun over, under the quick hand of Du Guay-Trouin, and the _Francois_ was jibed about in order to run under the port bow of the Englishman. "Hold, Captain!" cried a French Lieutenant. "We, ourselves, are afire!" As he spoke--a direful cloud of vapor rolled from the starboard quarter. "Alack!" answered the now furious Rénee. "This puts an end to the fighting of this day, and we'd soon have had the second Britisher. All hands below and bucket out this fire!" So, as night fell upon the rolling ocean, the _Falcon_ lay drifting helplessly, while the _Nonsuch_ and the _Francois_ were burning like two beacons upon a jutting headland. As day broke, the _Francois_ filled away (for the fire had been extinguished after an hour's toil) and ranged within striking distance of the _Nonsuch_. A broadside belched from her starboard guns and an answering roar came back from the cannon of the Englishman. The fore and main masts of the _Nonsuch_ trembled for a moment--then tottered and fell--while the gallant Captain, struck in the chest by a flying piece of shell, fell dying upon the deck. Du Guay-Trouin again attempted to board, at this moment, but the third mast was shaking and he was forced to sheer off lest the tangle of yards and rigging should fall and crush his vessel. He hung within hailing distance of the crippled sea-warrior, and, seeing that his antagonist was now helpless, cried out through his trumpet: "Run up the white flag, or I'll give you a broadside that will sink you." No answering hail came from the deck of the battered _Nonsuch_, but the piece of a torn, white shirt was soon fluttering from the tangled rigging of the foremast. Thus the gallant Rénee had defeated two warships of equal strength, and had captured vessels with a rich and valuable cargo. Now, don't you think that this fellow was a doughty sea rover? And, although the English made many excuses, the fact still remains that a single privateer had conquered double her own force in a fair and open fight upon the high seas. The sturdy _Francois_ could just barely drift into St. Malo--so badly crippled was she--but the rest came safely to port, in spite of a hard gale which blew down the masts of two of the lumber boats. And doughty Rénee refitted the _Nonsuch_, transferred his flag to her, called her the _Sans-Pareil_, and flung his flag defiantly from her mast-head in spite of the fact that she was "made in England." All France was agog over his exploit. Now, know you, that doughty Rénee was a "Blue;" a "Blue" being a man of the people (the bourgeoisie) who were not of aristocratic birth. And, as the French Royal Marine was the most exclusive body of officers in the world, birth and station being necessary for admittance therein, the titled office-holders threw up their hands when Du Guay-Trouin's name was mentioned for a place of command, saying,-- "Why, he's only a beastly Democrat. Pooh! Bah! We do not care to have such a fellow among us." And they shrugged their shoulders. The officers of the French Royal Marine wore red breeches, and, if by chance a democrat were given a commission, he had to appear in blue small-clothes throughout his entire career. Very few of the "Blues" ever came to be an Admiral, for the odds were too great against them. But Rénee had done so bravely and well that a sword was sent him by the King, who wrote,-- "Should you wish a commission in the Royal Navy, good sir, it shall be yours." And to this, Du Guay-Trouin replied,-- "I feel that I can do better where I am, Most Gracious Majesty. I will remain a Privateer." For Du Guay-Trouin wished to accumulate riches, as his forebears had done. So, cruising down the coast of Ireland, he fell in with three East Indiamen, whom he captured with ease, and, piloting them to St. Malo, declared a dividend of two thousand pounds ($10,000) a share, to the stockholders in his staunch vessel. And the value of the shares was but one hundred pounds ($500) each. Would not the men of Wall Street love such a fellow in these piping times of peace? A month later we find him cruising in the Bay of Biscay, where--in the dead of night--he ran into a great English fleet, roving about for just such vessels as the _Sans-Pareil_ and eager for a broadside at the French privateer. But young Rénee--for he was now twenty-three--had not lost his nerve. "There was no time," he wrote, "for hesitation. I had two valuable prizes with me and ordered them to hoist Dutch colors and to run away to leeward, saluting me with seven guns each as they went. "Trusting to the goodness and soundness of the _Sans-Pareil_ I stood towards the fleet, as boldly and as peaceably as if I had really been one of their number, rejoining them after having spoken the Dutchmen. Two capital ships and a thirty-six gun frigate had at first left the fleet to overhaul me; but, on seeing what I was doing, the ships returned to their stations; the frigate--impelled by her unlucky fate--persisted in endeavoring to speak the two prizes, and I saw that she was rapidly coming up with them. "I had by this time joined the fleet, tranquil enough in appearance, though inwardly I was fuming at the prospect of my two prizes being taken by the frigate; and, as I perceived that my ship sailed much better than those of the enemy who were near me, I kept away little by little, at the same time forereaching on them. Suddenly, bearing up, I ran down to place myself between the prizes and the frigate. "I should have liked to lay aboard of her and carry her in sight of the whole fleet; but her captain, being suspicious, would not let me get within musket-shot of him, and sent his boat to help me. But, when the boat was half way, her people made out that we were French, and turned to go back; on which, seeing that we were discovered, I hoisted my white flag and poured my broadside into the frigate. "She answered with hers; but, not being able to sustain my fire, she hauled her wind, and with a signal of distress flying, stood to meet the captain's ship, which hastily ran down towards us. As they stopped to render her assistance, and to pick up her boat, I was able to rejoin my prizes, and, without misadventure, to take them to Port Louis." Again France rang with acclaim for the hero of this bold exploit, and again the King offered a commission to the gallant sea-dog. But Du Guay-Trouin shook his head. "Perhaps I will become an officer in the Royal Marine later on," said he. "But not now. I am too happy and successful as a Privateer." He was quite right, for in March, 1697, was his greatest exploit. While busily scanning the horizon for sail in the _St. Jacques des Victoires_, upon the thirteenth day of that auspicious month, he saw upon the horizon, a cluster of vessels. They drew near and proved to be the Dutch East India fleet convoyed by two fifty-gun ships and a thirty-gun sloop-of-war. With him was the _Sans-Pareil_ of forty-eight guns, and the little sloop-of-war _Lenore_, mounting fourteen. The hostile squadron was formidable, and Du Guay-Trouin hesitated to attack. In command of the Dutch vessels was Baron van Wassenaer, one of a family of famous sea-fighters from Holland, and he manoeuvred his ships with consummate skill; always interposing his own vessel between the French privateer and his fleet of merchantmen. "Ah-ha," cried gallant Rénee, at this moment. "Here come some of my own boys." And--sure enough--from the direction of France, and boiling along under full canvas, rolled two privateersmen of St. Malo. Cheer after cheer went up from the deck of the _St. Jacques des Victoires_, as they pounded through the spray, for this made the contending parties about equal, although the Dutch boats were larger, heavier, and they had more guns aboard. The Dutchmen now formed in line. In front was the flagship--the _Delft_--with her fifty guns glowering ominously from the port-holes; second was the thirty-gun frigate; and third, the other war-hound of fifty guns: the _Hondslaardjiik_. Through a trumpet Du Guay-Trouin shrilled his orders. "The _Sans-Pareil_ will attack the _Hondslaardjiik_," cried he. "The two privateers will hammer the frigate, while I and the _St. Jacques des Victoires_ will attend to the _Delft_. The _Lenore_ will sail in among the convoy. Fight, and fight to win!" A fine breeze rippled the waves. The two squadrons were soon at each others' throats, and there upon the sobbing ocean a sea-fight took place which was one of the most stubborn of the ages. As the Frenchmen closed in upon the Dutch, the _Hondslaardjiik_ suddenly left the line and crashed a broadside into the _St. Jacques des Victoires_. It staggered her, but she kept on, and--heading straight for her lumbering antagonist--ran her down. A splitting of timber, a crunch of boards, a growl of musketry, and, with a wild cheer, the Frenchmen leaped upon the deck of the Dutch warship; Du Guay-Trouin in the lead, a cutlass in his right hand, a spitting pistol in the left. _Crash! Crackle! Crash!_ An irregular fire of muskets and pistols sputtered at the on-coming boarders. But they were not to be stopped. With fierce, vindictive cheers the privateers of St. Malo hewed a passage of blood across the decking, driving the Dutchmen below, felling them upon the deck in windrows, and seizing the commander himself by the coat collar, after his cutlass had been knocked from his stalwart hand. The Dutchman was soon a prize, and her proud ensign came fluttering to the decking. But things were not going so well in other quarters. Disaster had attended the dash of the _Sans-Pareil_ upon the _Delft_. An exploding shell had set her afire and she lay derelict with a cloud of drifting smoke above, when suddenly, _Crash!_ A terrible explosion shook the staunch, little vessel, her sides belched outward, and a number of sailors came shooting through the air, for a dozen loose cartridge boxes had been caught by the roaring flames. Helplessly she lolled in the sweep of the gray, lurching billows. "Hah!" shouted Van Wassenaer, as he saw his work. "Now for the saucy Du Guay-Trouin," and, twisting the helm of the _Sans-Pareil_, he soon neared the _St. Jacques des Victoires_, which was hanging to the _Delft_ like a leech, firing broadside after broadside with clock-like precision, her sea-dogs cheering as the spars crackled, the rigging tore; and splinters ricochetted from her sides. "Ready about!" cried Rénee, wiping the sweat from his brow, "and board the _Hondslaardjiik_. Now for Van Wassenaer and let us show the Dutchman how a privateer from St. Malo can battle." So, luffing around in the steady breeze, the privateersman rolled ominously towards the lolling _Delft_. A crash, a sputter of pistols, a crushing of timber, and grappling hooks had pinioned the two war-dogs in a sinister embrace. And--with a wild yell--the Frenchmen plunged upon the reddened decking of the flagship of the courageous Van Wassenaer, who cried, "Never give in, Lads! What will they think of this in Holland!" There was a different reception than when the privateers rushed the _Hondslaardjiik_. The Dutch fought like wildcats. Three times the cheering, bleeding Frenchmen stormed the planking, and three times they were hurled back upon the slippery deck of their own ship; maddened, cursing, furious at their inability to take the foreigner. "The conflict was very bloody both by the very heavy fire on both sides, of guns, muskets, and grenades," says Du Guay-Trouin, "and by the splendid courage of the Baron Van Wassenaer, who received me with astonishing boldness." "Bear away," ordered the courageous Dutchman, at this juncture. "We must have time to recover and refit our ship." And--suiting the action to his words--the badly battered _Delft_ filled, and crept well to leeward. Meanwhile the two privateers of St. Malo had captured the frigate as she lay helpless; a white flag beckoning for a prize crew. "The _Faluere_ will attack the _Delft_," shouted Du Guay-Trouin, running near the largest of these; a ship of thirty-eight guns. "I must have time to breathe and to refit." But stubborn Van Wassenaer was ready for his new antagonist. He received the privateer with such a furious fire that she turned tail and fled to leeward; her captain bleeding upon the poop, her crew cursing the blood which ran in the veins of the valorous Hollander. [Illustration: COMBAT BETWEEN DU GUAY-TROUIN AND VAN WASSENAER.] Du Guay-Trouin had now recovered his breath. Again the bellying canvas of the _St. Jacques des Victoires_ bore her down upon the _Delft_, and again the two war-dogs wrapped in deadly embrace. Hear the invincible Frenchman's own account of the final assault: "With head down," he writes, "I rushed against the redoubtable Baron, resolved to conquer or to perish. The last action was so sharp and so bloody that every one of the Dutch officers was killed or wounded. Wassenaer, himself, received four dangerous wounds and fell on his quarterdeck, where he was seized by my own brave fellows, his sword still in his hand. "The _Faluere_ had her share in the engagement, running alongside of me, and sending me forty men on board for reinforcement. More than half of my own crew perished in this action. I lost in it one of my cousins, first Lieutenant of my own ship, and two other kinsmen on board the _Sans-Pareil_, with many other officers killed or wounded. It was an awful butchery." But at last he had won, and the victorious pennon of the Privateer fluttered triumphant over the battered hulks which barely floated upon the spar-strewn water. "The horrors of the night," he writes, "the dead and dying below, the ship scarcely floating, the swelling waves threatening each moment to engulf her, the wild howling of the storm, and the iron-bound coast of Bretagne to leeward, were all together such as to try severely the courage of the few remaining officers and men. "At daybreak, however, the wind went down; we found ourselves near the Breton coast; and, upon our firing guns and making signals of distress, a number of boats came to our assistance. In this manner was the _St. Jacques_ taken into Port Louis, followed in the course of the day by the three Dutch ships-of-war, twelve of the merchant ships, the _Lenore_, and the two St. Malo privateers. The _Sans-Pareil_ did not get in till the next day, after having been twenty times upon the point of perishing by fire and tempest." Thus ended the great fight of Rénee Du Guay-Trouin, whose blood, you see, was quite as blue as his breeches. * * * * * "Again," wrote His Majesty the King, "do I offer you a commission in the Royal Navy, Du Guay-Trouin. Will you accept? This time it is a Captaincy." "I do," replied little Rénee,--quite simply--and, at the next dinner of the officers of the Royal Marines, they sang a chorus, which ran: "Oh, yes, he's only a Democrat, his blood is hardly blue, Oh, Sacre Nom de Dieu! Sapristi! Eet is true! But he's a jolly tar dog, with dirk and pistol, too, He fights like William the Conqueror, he fights! Egad! that's true! A health to Rénee the terrible; soldier and sailor too." EDWARD ENGLAND TERROR OF THE SOUTH SEAS (1690?-_about_ 1725) "A Privateer's not a Buccaneer, but they're pretty chummy friends, One flies a reg'lar ensign, there's nothing that offends. One sails 'neath Letters Legal, t'other 'neath Cross-Bones, But, both will sink you, Sailor, or my name's not Davy Jones." --_Old Ballad._ EDWARD ENGLAND TERROR OF THE SOUTH SEAS (1690?-_about_ 1725) "If England wuz but wind an' paint, How we'd hate him. But he ain't." --_Log of the Royal James._ "Hit him with a bottle, he deserves it, th' brute!" The man who spoke was a thick-set sailor of some forty-five summers, with a swarthy skin, a brownish mat of hair, a hard visage, and a cut across one eye. He stood upon the deck of a good-sized brig, which was drowsily lolling along the coast of Africa. "Yes, he treated us like dogs aboard th' _Cuttlefish_. Here, give me a shot at 'im." Thus cried another sailor--a toughish customer also--and, as his voice rang out, a dozen more came running to the spot. Cringing before the evil gaze of the seamen stood the Captain of a Bristol merchantman--the _Cadogan_--which lay a boat's length away, upon the glassy surface of a rocking sea. Again rang out the harsh tones of him who had first spoken. "Ah, Captain Skinner, it is you, eh? You are the very person I wished to see. I am much in your debt, and I shall pay you in your own coin." The poor Captain trembled in every joint, and said, with a curious chattering of his teeth, "Yes, Edward England, you've got me now. But go easy like, will yer? I always was a friend o' yourn." "Yer didn't look like a friend on th' old _Jamaica_, when you refused to pay me my wages," interrupted the first speaker. "Yer didn't remove me to 'er cursed man-o'-warsman, did yer? Yer didn't see that I got th' cat-o'-nine-tails on my back, did yer? Now, Mr. Skinner, it's my chance ter get even. Tie him ter th' windlass, boys, and we'll fix th' feller's hash." With a jeering laugh the sailors seized the frightened man, roped him tightly to the desired prop, and, procuring a lot of glass bottles, pelted him with them until their arms were tired. "You wuz a good master to me, Captain Skinner," cried one. "Now you're gettin' a dose of your own medicine. Overboard with him, Boys." And, suiting the action to the words, he seized him by the collar. The ropes were unwound. The poor wretch was dragged to the rail, and, as his body spun out into the oily sea, a shot ended the life of poor Thomas Skinner of the _Cadogan_ from Bristol. Captain Edward England and his men had had a sweet and sure revenge. Where this reckless mariner was born, it is difficult to ascertain. We know that he started life honestly enough, for he was mate of a sloop that sailed from Jamaica, about the year 1715, and was taken by a pirate called Captain Winter. The youthful sailor soon took up the careless ways of his captors, and it was not many years before he became Captain of his own vessel: a sloop flying the black flag with a skull and cross-bones. Off the east coast of Africa he soon took a ship called the _Pearl_, for which he exchanged his own sloop, fitting the new vessel up for piratical service, after rechristening her the _Royal James_. Cruising about in this staunch craft, he captured several ships of different sizes and flying the flags of many nations. He was rich and prosperous. "Captain," said one of his reckless followers, at this time, "man-o'-warsmen are gettin' too thick in these parts for an honest sailor. Let's get across th' pond to th' Brazilian coast." "You're quite right," answered England. "We've got to look for other pickings. After we provision-up, we'll sail towards th' setting sun. That's a fresh field and we can have it to ourselves." So all made ready for a trans-Atlantic voyage. But Captain England was in error when he said that he was sailing for fields which had never before been touched. Two other piratical vessels: the _Revenge_ and the _Flying King_, had been cruising off the coast of Brazil, just before his advent. Fighting in partnership, they had taken two Portuguese schooners, and were making off with them, when a Portuguese man-o'-warsman came booming along under full canvas. She was an unwelcome guest. Setting all sail the two pirates had attempted to get away and the _Revenge_ succeeded in doing so. Two days later a typhoon struck her and she was soon swinging bottom upwards, with the kittiwakes shrieking over her barnacled keel. But the revengeful man-o'-warsman ploughed relentlessly after the _Flying King_, which could not fly quite fast enough, this time, and--in despair--was run, bows on, upon the shore, where the crew scrambled to the sand in a desperate endeavor to get away. The sailors from the man-o'-warsman were speedy; they shot twelve of the buccaneers, took the rest prisoners (there were seventy in all) and hanged thirty-eight to the yard-arm. News of this came to Captain England when he neared the tropic coast of Brazil. "It's all in a life-time," said he. "If I'm captured, of course I'll swing. But, meanwhile, I hope to have a good life." Not many days afterwards he heard the welcome sound of: "Sail ho! Off the port bow!" And raising the glass to his eye discovered two fat, prosperous-looking merchant ships, slipping quietly along like an old maid fresh from market. "Slap on all sail and give chase!" was bellowed out in stentorian tones, and the _Royal James_ was soon fairly boiling along with every stitch aloft, which she could carry. As she neared the merchantmen, the names came plainly to view: the _Peterborough_ of Bristol, and the _Victory_ of Liverpool, but a shot screamed across the bowsprit of the latter and victory was turned into defeat. A white flag was fluttering at her mainmast in a moment, for the Captain had no stomach for a fight. "Egad, it's a pirate," said the good seaman in despair, as the black flag with the skull and cross-bones fluttered from the rigging of his capturer. "I thought she was a privateersman under Letters of Marque. It's all up with us." As the boat-load of boarders came bobbing alongside he cried out, "Mercy! Have mercy upon the souls of these poor wretches who sail with me." The pirates guffawed, helped themselves to everything of value, and took the merchantmen with them to the coast of Brazil, where the crew were allowed to escape to the shore. The _Peterborough_ was re-christened the _Victory_ and was manned by half of England's crew, while the other vessel was burned at night; the pirates dancing on the beach to the light of the flames and singing the weird songs of the sea. Now there was a scene of wild revel upon the Brazilian coast; but the natives grew angry at the conduct of these rough men of the ocean. "Ugh!" spoke a chief, "we must drive them away, else they will burn our own villages as they did their houses upon the water." One peaceful evening the followers of Captain England were hard beset by fully a thousand black-skinned warriors from the Brazilian jungle. There was a fierce battle. The negroes were pressed back upon their principal town and were driven through it on the run, for their arrows and spears were not as effective as the guns and pistols of the English, Dutch, Spaniards and Portuguese, who had adopted a piratical career. Their thatched huts were set on fire, and, satisfied with the day's work, the pirates retired to their ships, where a vote was cast where was to be their next venture. It fell to the East Indies and the Island of Madagascar. So they set sail, singing an old ballad which ran, "Heave the lead and splice th' topsail, Tie her down, and let her fill, We're agoin' to Madagascar, Where th' little tom-tits trill, "Bill an' coo, an' sing so sweetly, In th' dronin' hours of noon, That you want to die there, neatly, Just drop off into 'er swoon." The voyage across was a good one and the pirates captured two East Indiamen and a Dutchman, bound to Bombay. These they exchanged for one of their own vessels, and then set out for Madagascar Island, where several of their hands were set ashore with tents and ammunition, to kill such beasts and venison as the place afforded. Then they sailed for the Isle of Juanna,--not a great distance from Madagascar,--and here had as keen a little engagement as ever employed a piratical crew. Hear the story of this fight in the words of Captain Mackra, an English sea-captain who happened at that time to be in the harbor. "BOMBAY, November 16th, 1720. "We arrived on the 25th of July last, in company with the _Greenwich_, at Juanna, an island not far from Madagascar. Putting in there to refresh our men, we found fourteen pirates who came in their canoes from the Mayotta (island) where the pirate ship to which they belonged, the _Indian Queen_--two hundred and fifty tons, twenty-eight guns, commanded by Captain Oliver de la Bouche, bound from the Guinea coast to the East Indies--had been bulged (run ashore) and lost. They said they left the Captain and forty men building a new vessel, to proceed upon their wicked designs. "Captain Kirby and I concluding that it might be of great service to the East India Company to destroy such a nest of rogues, were ready to sail for this purpose on the 17th of August, about eight o'clock in the morning, when we discovered two pirates standing into the Bay of Juanna, one of thirty-four and the other of thirty-six guns. "I immediately went on board the _Greenwich_ where they seemed very diligent in preparation for an engagement, and I left Captain Kirby with mutual understanding of standing by each other. I then unmoored, got under sail, and brought two boats ahead to row me close to the _Greenwich_; but he being open to a breeze, made the best of his way from me; which an Ostender in our company of twenty-two guns, seeing, did the same, though the Captain had promised heartily to engage with us, and, I believe would have been as good as his word, if Captain Kirby had kept his. "About half an hour after twelve, I called several times to the _Greenwich_ to bear down to our assistance, and fired a shot at him, but to no purpose; for, though we did not doubt but he would join us, because, when he got about a league from us he brought his ship to and looked on; yet both he and the Ostender basely deserted us, and left us engaged with barbarous and inhuman enemies, with their black and bloody flags hanging over us, without the least appearance of ever escaping, but to be cut to pieces. "But God in his good providence, determined otherwise; for, notwithstanding their superiority, we engaged them both about three hours, during which time the biggest of them received some shot betwixt wind and water, which made her keep a little off, to stop her leaks. The other endeavored all she could to board us, by rowing with her oars, being within half a ship's length of us about an hour; but, by good fortune, we shot all her oars to pieces, which prevented them from getting in close, and consequently saved our lives. [Illustration: "'LEFT US ENGAGED WITH BARBAROUS AND INHUMAN ENEMIES.'"] "About four o'clock most of the officers and men posted on the quarter-deck being killed and wounded, the largest ship made up to us with diligence, after giving us a broadside. There now being no hopes of Captain Kirby's coming to our assistance, we endeavored to run ashore; and though we drew four feet of water more than the pirate, it pleased God that he stuck fast on a higher ground than happily we fell in with; so was disappointed a second time from boarding us. "Here we had a more violent engagement than before. All of my officers and most of my men behaved with unexpected courage; and, as we had a considerable advantage by having a chance to hurl a broadside into his bow, we did him great damage. Had Captain Kirby come in then, I believe we should have taken both the vessels, for we had one of them, sure. "The other pirate (who was still firing at us) seeing the _Greenwich_ did not offer to assist us, supplied his consort with three boats full of fresh men. About five in the evening the _Greenwich_ stood clear away to sea, leaving us struggling hard for life, in the very jaws of death; which the other pirate that was afloat, seeing, got a hawser out, and began to haul under our stern. "By this time many of my men were being killed and wounded, and no hopes left us of escaping being all murdered by enraged barbarous conquerors, I ordered all that could to get into the long-boat, under the cover of the smoke from our guns; so that, with what some did in boats, and others by swimming, most of us that were able got ashore by seven o'clock. "When the pirates came aboard, they cut three of our wounded men to pieces. I, with some of my people, made what haste I could to Kings-town, twenty-five miles from us; where I arrived next day, almost dead with the fatigue and loss of blood, having been sorely wounded in the head by a musket-ball. "At this town I heard that the pirates had offered ten thousand dollars to the country people to bring me in, which many of them would have accepted, only they knew that the king and all his chief people were in my interest. Meanwhile I caused a report to be circulated that I was dead of my wounds, which much abated their fury. "We had, in all, thirteen killed and twenty-four wounded; and we were told that we destroyed about ninety, or a hundred, of the pirates. I am persuaded that, had our consort the _Greenwich_ done her duty, we could have destroyed both of them, and got two hundred thousand pounds ($1,000,000.00) for our owners and ourselves." What say you to this fight? And to think that our own good friend Captain Mackra just missed being a millionaire! Weep for the gallant sea warrior! At any rate he got safely away, for, at length going aboard one of the piratical vessels,--under a flag of truce--he discovered that several of the wild sea-robbers knew him; some of them--even--had sailed with him in earlier years. "I found this to be of great advantage," he writes. "For, notwithstanding their promise not to harm me, some of them would have cut me to pieces, had it not been for their chief, Captain Edward England, and some others whom I knew." And he used his powers of persuasion to such effect that: "They made me a present of the shattered ship--which was Dutch built--called the _Fancy_, her burden being about three hundred tons. "With jury-masts, and such other old sails as they left me, I set sail on September 8th, with forty-three of my ship's crew, including two passengers and twelve soldiers. After a passage of forty-eight days I arrived at Bombay on the 26th of October, almost naked and starved, having been reduced to a pint of water a day, and almost in despair of ever seeing land, by reason of the calms we met with between the coast of Arabia and Malabar." The gallant writer of this interesting description was certainly in imminent danger of his life, when he trusted himself upon the pirate ship, and unquestionably nothing could have justified such a hazardous step but the desperate circumstances in which he was placed. The honor and influence of Captain England, however, protected him and his men from the wrath of the crew, who would willingly have wreaked their vengeance upon those who had dealt them such heavy blows in the recent fight. But the generosity of Captain England toward the unfortunate Mackra proved to be calamitous to himself. "You are no true pirate," cried one of his crew. "For a buccaneer never allows his foes to get away." "No! No!" shouted others. "This fighting Mackra will soon come against us with a strong force. You did wrong in letting him escape." "To the yard-arm with the traitor!" sounded from the throat of many a ruffianly seaman. Thus grew the feeling of mutiny--and the result of these murmurs of discontent--was that Captain England was put ashore by the cruel villains; and, with three others was marooned upon the island of Mauritius. Had they not been destitute of every necessity they might have been able to live in comfort, for the island abounds in deer, hogs, and other animals. Dissatisfied, however, with this solitary situation, Captain England and his three men exerted their industry and ingenuity, built a small boat, and sailed to Madagascar, where they lived upon the generosity of some more fortunate piratical companions. But can a pirate remain happy when not pirating? "Away with this life," cried Captain England. "I pine for more treasure and for battle. Let's out and to sea!" "Good! Good!" said his mates. "Let's ship aboard another vessel and get away from here." So, they again took to the ocean, but what became of Edward England is not known. Some say that he was killed in a brawl; some that he was again marooned and was adopted by a savage tribe; some that he perished in a fight upon the Indian Ocean. At any rate that rough and valiant soul is lost to history, and--somewhere--in the vast solitude of the Southern Hemisphere, lie the bleaching bones of him who had flaunted the skull-and-cross-bones upon the wide highway of the gleaming wastes of salty brine. His was a rough and careless life. Do not emulate the career of Edward England! Near the straits of Madagascar; near the sobbing oceans' roar, A ghostly shape glides nightly, by the beady, kelp-strewn shore.-- As the Cubic monkeys chatter; as the Bulbul lizards hiss, Comes a clear and quiet murmur, like a Zulu lover's kiss. The flying-fishes scatter; the chattering magpies scream, The topaz hummers dart and dip; their jewelled feathers gleam. The mud-grimed hippos bellow; the dove-eyed elands bleat, When the clank of steel disturbs them, and the beat of sandalled feet. The pirate crew is out to-night, no rest is for their souls, The blood of martyrs moves them; they charge a million tolls. On! On! Their souls must hasten. On! On! Their shapes must go, While the limpid rushes quiver, and the beast-lapped waters glow. No rest for Captain England. No rest, for King or pawn, On! On! Their feet must wander. On! On! Forever on! SONG OF THE PIRATE "To the mast nail our flag! it is dark as the grave, Or the death which it bears while it sweeps o'er the wave; Let our decks clear for action, our guns be prepared; Be the boarding-axe sharpened, the scimetar bared: Set the canisters ready, and then bring to me, For the last of my duties, the powder-room key. It shall never be lowered, the black flag we bear, If the sea be denied us, we sweep through the air. Unshared have we left our last victory's prey; It is mine to divide it, and yours to obey: There are shawls that might suit a Sultana's white neck, And pearls that are fair as the arms they will deck; There are flasks which, unseal them, the air will disclose Diametta's fair summers, the home of the rose. I claim not a portion: I ask but as mine-- But to drink to our victory--one cup of red wine. Some fight, 'tis for riches--some fight, 'tis for fame: The first I despise, and the last is a name. I fight 'tis for vengeance! I love to see flow, At the stroke of my sabre, the life of my foe. I strike for the memory of long-vanished years; I only shed blood where another sheds tears, I come, as the lightning comes red from above, O'er the race that I loathe, to the battle I love." WOODES ROGERS THE BRISTOL MARINER (?-1736) "If you want to win a lass, or a sea fight; don't cajole. Sail in!"--_Old Proverb._ WOODES ROGERS THE BRISTOL MARINER (?-1736) For he can fight a Spaniard, like a Tipperary cat, For he can sack a city, like a _blawsted_, rangy rat; Woodes Rogers was a Gentleman, from Bristol-town he sailed, An' his crew came from th' prisons, an' were Bailed, Bailed, Bailed. "Yes, you can have the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_. They are both staunch craft and we expect to get a good return for our investment in them." The fellow who spoke--a stout-bodied Quaker--looked quizzically at a bronzed sea-captain, who, cap in hand, stood before him. By his side were seated a number of merchants, fat, sleek, contented-looking. They were giving instructions to Captain Woodes Rogers: their privateersman, who was about to make a voyage of adventure in their behalf. "My good friends," said the mariner, "I shall do my very best for you all. The French and Spaniards have been having it all their own way in the South seas. It is about time that the English had a share in the rich spoils of that treasure highway. I shall work my hardest for you." The merchants, ship-owners and Quakers nodded. "May Providence guide your course aright," said they. And--as Captain Woodes Rogers went off to inspect his privateersmen--all indulged in a glass of Madeira to pledge "good luck and good health" to the staunch seaman from Bristol. It was not many weeks before the _Duke_ (of three hundred and twenty tons) with thirty guns and one hundred and seventeen men, and the _Duchess_ (of two hundred and sixty tons) with twenty-six guns and one hundred and eight men, sailed from King Road for Cork, in Ireland. "Egad!" cried Captain Rogers, as they passed out to sea. "Our rigging is slack. Our decks are lumbered up. Our stores are badly stowed. Our crew is so very mixed that I must stop in Ireland to get more able sea-dogs. Was ever captain in a worse fix?" His Lieutenants grinned, for they saw that things were in a sorry mess, indeed. "Most of us have embraced this trip around the world in order to retrieve our fortunes," continued the captain. "Did you ever see a harder crew than this? There are tinkers, tailors, haymakers, peddlers, fiddlers, a negro and ten boys. None know how to use the cutlass and they haven't got any sea-legs. Well, well; I'll make the best of it, but it's hard goin', I assure you." And still the Lieutenants grinned. They grinned still more when they had lain a few days at Cork, for the crew were continually marrying, although they expected to sail immediately. However, as the two privateers got under way on September 1st,--with the _Hastings_, a man-of-war--the majority of the crew drank a health to their spouses; waved their hands to them over the rail; and "parted unconcerned." Truly, a sailor has a lass in every port. Not many days after their out-going, a sail was sighted and all speed was made to capture her. The Swedish colors fluttered from her mast-head, and she hove to at the first gun. Rogers boarded. "No contraband goods are here," said he, after looking into the hold. "We must let her off." Then--turning to her captain--he said, "You can go. I am not a pirate--but a privateer--sailing under Letters of Marque. I only seize goods that are contraband." Bobbing and courtesying on the waves, the little Swede soon drifted from view. But the crew grew mutinous,--for had they not come out for plunder? The boatswain even called Rogers a traitor. "Seize the fellow and flog him," cried the sturdy captain. "Put ten of these talkative hounds in irons. We'll do the talking on this boat, and the sailors must do theirs in the fo'castle." This was done immediately. Next day a seaman came aft, with near half the ship's company in his rear, and cried: "I demand the boatswain out of his irons, Captain Rogers. He's done nothing to deserve such a severe punishment." "Speak with me privately, on the quarter-deck," said the bluff commander. "I cannot discuss this matter with you in such a crowd." And he moved aft. The grumbler followed, but, no sooner was he alone with stout Woodes, than the captain sprang upon him with the agility of a leopard. He was thrown to the ground, held, and bound by two officers. Then he was stripped and whipped until the blood ran. "This method," writes the doughty Woodes, "I deemed best for breaking any unlawful friendship among the mutinous crew. It allayed the tumult, so that they began to submit quietly and those in irons begged my pardon, and promised amendment." Thus the captain had won the first round with the mutineers. Now, know you, that the War of the Spanish Succession was then in progress; a war in which one party was endeavoring to put the Archduke Charles of Austria upon the Spanish throne; another to place Philip, grandson of Louis XIV of France, in the chair of the rulers. And when--a few days later--the two privateers captured a small Spanish vessel, they found that their possession of it was disputed, when they sailed into the Canaries. "It has been agreed between Queen Anne of England and the Kings of Spain and France," said the Vice-Consul of that place--an Englishman--"that all vessels trading to the Canary Isles shall be exempt from interference by men-o'-war, or privateers. The prize must be released. If you do not do so, we will keep your agent, Mr. Vanbrugh, who has come ashore, and will throw him into irons." But the Vice-Consul had reckoned without his host. "We are apprehensive that you are obliged to give us this advice in order to gratify the Spaniards," wrote Captain Rogers. "If you do not allow my agent to come on board my ship, you may expect a visit from my guns at eight o'clock to-morrow morn." To this there was no reply. Next day the two English privateers stood in close to shore, and, just as the shot was rammed home, a boat put off, in the stern of which sat Mr. Vanbrugh with a present of wine, grapes, hogs and jelly. The prize which had been captured was sent back to Bristol with a picked crew. The two sea-rovers bore towards the South--soon crossed the Tropic of Cancer--and there had appropriate ceremonies for the occasion. The tinkers, peddlers, fiddlers, and tailors who made up the crew, were each and all hoisted overboard by a rope. A stick was placed between their legs and they were ducked again and again in the brine. "If any man wants to get off," spoke Captain Rogers, "he can do so by paying me a half-a-sovereign ($2.50) which must be expended on an entertainment for the rest of the company when England shall be reached. Every man that is ducked is paid in proportion to the number of times that he goes under." Several accepted this offer. At which a sailor cried out: "Duck me twelve times, Captain. I want to have a regular orgy when I get back home." And the sailors did it, laughing uproariously. Sailing to the Cape Verde Islands, the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_ anchored in the harbor of St. Vincent, where one of the crew, who was a good linguist (Joseph Alexander) was sent in a boat to the Governor, at San Antonio, in order to negotiate for supplies. He seemed to prefer Cape Verde to privateering. "On October 6th," writes the gallant Rogers, "our boat went to San Antonio to get our linguist, according to appointment. No news of him." "On October 6th, our boat returned with nothing but limes and tobacco. No news of our linguist." "On October 7th, no news of our linguist." "On the 8th, boat sent ashore, but no news of our linguist." "On the 9th, as the trade-winds are blowing fresh, concluded to leave our good Alexander to practice his linguistic and other accomplishments ashore. Adieu to our linguist." Thus disappeared the sleek and crafty Joseph. There was still trouble from insubordination, for Mr. Page--second mate of the _Duchess_--refused to accompany Mr. Cook (second in command on the _Duke_). Whereupon the hot-tempered Captain Cook--being the superior officer on board--struck him, and several blows were interchanged. At last Page was forced into the boat and brought to the _Duke_, where he was ordered to the forecastle in the bilboes (leg irons sliding upon a long, iron bar). But he jumped overboard--despising the chance of being gobbled up by a shark--and started to swim to his own ship. He was brought back, flogged, and put in irons; and he evidently found a week of this kind of thing sufficient; for he submitted himself humbly to future orders. Thus Woodes Rogers had already learned that the life of a privateer commander was not a happy one. Steering southwest, a large French ship was seen and chased, but she got away from the two consorts with surprising ease. On March 6th, when off the coast of Peru, a sail was sighted. "Let the _Duchess_ bear down on her port and the _Duke_ to starboard," cried Captain Rogers. "Heave a solid shot across her bow, and, if she refuses to capitulate, let her have your broadsides." Dipping, tossing, rolling; the two privateers swooped down upon their prey, like hawks. She flew the yellow flag of Spain--and--as the first ball of lead cut across her bowsprit, it fluttered to the deck. Up went a white shirt, tied to a rat-line, and the crew from the _Duke_ was soon in charge, and steering her for Lobas: a harbor on the coast. "She's a tight little barque," said Rogers, when he had landed. "I'll make her into a privateer." So she was hauled up, cleaned, launched, and christened the _Beginning_; with a spare topmast from the _Duke_ as a mast, and an odd mizzen-topsail altered for a sail. Four swivel-guns were mounted upon her deck, and, as she pounded out of the bay, loud cheers greeted her from the decks of the _Duchess_, which was loafing outside, watching for a merchantman to capture and pillage. Next morn two sails were sighted, and both _Duke_ and _Duchess_ hastened to make another haul. As they neared them, one was seen to be a stout cruiser from Lima; the other a French-built barque from Panama; richly laden, it was thought. "Broadsides for both," ordered Woodes Rogers. "Broadsides and good treatment when the white flag flutters aloft." As the _Duchess_ chased the Lima boat, the _Duke_ neared the Frenchman and spanked a shot at her from a bow-gun. The sea ran high and she did not wish to get too close and board, because it would be easier to send her men in pinnaces. "They're afraid!" cried the Captain of the _Duke_. "We can take 'em with no exertion." But he was like many an Englishman: despised his foe only to find him a valiant one. Piling into four boats, the men from the _Duke_, fully armed, rowed swiftly towards the rolling Frenchman. They approached to within twenty yards. Then _Crash! Crash! Rattle! Crash!_ A sheet of flame burst from her sides; muskets and pistols spoke; cannon spat grape and cannister; the Englishmen were frightfully cut up. "On! On!" shouted young John Rogers--a brother of Woodes--as he waved his cutlass aloft to enliven the sailors. But it was his last cry. A bullet struck him in the forehead, and he fell into the sea without a murmur. _Crash! Crash!_ Again roared out a volley. Oars were splintered. One boat was pierced below the water line. She sank, and her men floundered about upon the surface of the oily sea. "Bear off, and rescue our comrades!" cried the leaders of this futile attack, and, as the French barque drifted away, the remaining boats busied themselves with the swimming sailors. The assault had been a complete failure. "Curses upon the Frenchman!" cried Captain Rogers when he saw the saucy fighter drawing off. "We'll go after her to-morrow, and catch her, or my blood's not English. What say you, men?" "Yes. After her and board her amid-ships!" cried all. "Run our own vessel alongside." "And that I will do," answered Rogers, watching the lumbering merchantman through his glass. "She's entirely too well armed for a trader." When morning dawned, the Frenchman was still ploughing along the coast in the light breeze, with all sail set. But there was not wind enough to force her ahead of her pursuer. The _Duchess_ now returned from her chase of the Lima boat, and, joining her _Duke_, bore in upon the able fighter from the open sea. "Egad! We'll have her yet," shouted Captain Rogers, rubbing his hands. "She luffs!" cried a lieutenant. "She's coming to!" Sure enough the Frenchman saw that resistance now was useless. She staggered into the wind, and a white flag beckoned for a prize-crew to come and take her. "And," writes Captain Rogers, "I found that a Bishop who had been aboard of her, had been put ashore, which gave me much grief. For I always love to catch fat prelates, as they give up a stout sum as their ransom. In truth they are nice pickings." Things were going well with the wild rovers from Bristol. Plunder there was aplenty and the holds of the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_ bulged with treasure. Yet Woodes Rogers was not satisfied. "On! On to Guayaquil!" cried he. "We'll capture this wealthy city; demand a great ransom; and sail to England, richer than the Spanish conquerors of the Incas." "Hurrah!" shouted his staunch followers. "On! On! to Guayaquil!" So--steering for the coast of Ecuador--the privateers drew near this rich Spanish-American town. A gulf lay before their eyes in which was a small island; with a little, white-housed village (called Puna) on its Eastern shore. "Take the place!" cried Rogers, as the two ships forged into the sleepy shallows, and rounded to before the peaceful habitation. With a cheer, the sailors piled into the boats, rowed ashore, and--with cutlass and dirk in hand--pressed through the narrow streets. Shots rang out from a few of the thatched houses; two seamen fell to the ground with mortal wounds; but, cheering wildly, the privateers rushed through the narrow highway; pressed into the court-house; and seized upon the Lieutenant-Governor of the town of Guayaquil, as he was attempting to hide behind an old clothes-press. "Let no man get away in order to warn the large town of our approach!" shouted Captain Rogers. "Catch all who dash for the canoes upon the beach!" "Crush the bloomin' canoes!" yelled Cook, as he saw some of the natives running towards them on the sandy shore. "Crush the canoes before the devils can get there!" "All right!" answered several of his men, as they ran for the clusters of boats. "We'll put holes in them!" As they hurried forward, several of the natives were ahead. Two jumped into the bark boats and paddled furiously for Guayaquil. The _zip_, _zip_ of bullets nipped the water around them, but,--with desperate sweeps--they dug their blades into the sea and got safely off. As a result, the city was all ready and prepared for the invaders. "Ho! Ho!" laughed Rogers, as he thumbed the papers of the Lieutenant-Governor. "What is this?" "A warning to the townsfolk of Guayaquil," said one of his men, as he peered over his shoulder. Rogers chuckled. "Beware, all you people"--he read--"of a squadron from the faraway isles of Great Britain which is coming shortly upon you. There will be full ten great ships, heavily manned and well armed for attack. The arch rogue, William Dampier, will be in control,--he who has plundered Puna before. Be on your guard, citizens! Be prepared! Arm yourselves!" "Hah! Hah!" laughed the free-booting captain. "They think I'm Dampier. That's good. But we'll have a tough time with them, for they know that we mean to assault their pretty little town." His followers looked solemn. "Let's attack, right away," cried several, "before the Spaniards have time to prepare for our charge!" Rogers, however, would not hear of it. "We must rest. Equip ourselves. Place cannon in the bows of our boats, and then we will be ready." His men murmured, but they knew that when Rogers had made up his mind upon a thing, there was no use in endeavoring to dissuade him. So they collected what plunder was to be had and awaited his further orders. Two days later all was ready for the advance. It was near midnight--upon April 22nd,--when the command was passed around: "Muffle your oars and take the town!" With one hundred and ten men in the jolly boats, the privateers neared the sleepy, little seaport. Not a sound broke the silence, save the drip, drip of the sweeps, yet, as they approached the white-washed walls of the lower town,--a bonfire was touched off upon the shore. "'Tis well," whispered a stout sailor. "Now we can see to shoot!" As he said this, many lights appeared in the houses of Guayaquil. The townspeople were wide awake. "What means this, sirrah?" thundered Rogers at a native guide, who was piloting him to the shore. The fellow had a ready answer. "'Tis the celebration of All Saints Day," he answered smiling. "The people here are good Christians." "They know that we are coming," growled the English captain, for, as the native spoke, a Spaniard upon the shore was heard to shout: "Puna has been captured! The enemy is advancing! Arm! Arm!" Bells clanged from the steeples of the little churches. Muskets and guns went off. Black masses could be seen surging into the streets. Cannon roared, and a screeching shot spun ahead of the on-coming boats. "'Tis nothing," said Rogers. "The alarm has only just been given. Preparations are not complete and we can rush them, easily." But Captain Cook had his own opinion upon the affair. "The Buccaneers," said he, "never attack any large place after it is alarmed. My advice is to keep away." "Don't go in," cried several. "Wait and rush them when they are not so well prepared." Even the men seemed disinclined to advance. Thus cautious counsel prevailed: the boats dropped down-stream again--about three miles below the town--and were joined by two small barques. They were prizes which had been recently captured. Here the flotilla lay while the cries in the city grew inaudible,--for the inhabitants saw that the attack had been avoided. When flood-tide came, Captain Rogers once more ordered an advance upon the town. "No! No!" argued Dover. "They are too well prepared. Night will cloak our movements, so we should then go on. I, myself, advise the sending of a trumpeter with a flag of truce. He shall propose that we make some trades with the people of this place." "Your measure is half-hearted," said Rogers, with heat. "You are a craven knave. Let's rush the town like Englishmen and heroes!" Again cautious counsel prevailed. Two prisoners--a Lieutenant from Puna, and the Captain of the Frenchman of recent capture--were sent to parley with the Spaniards. "The English are afraid!" whispered the inhabitants. "Let us keep them off with braggadocio, and mayhap reinforcements will come to us." So they bickered and delayed. "These dogs would palaver forever," said Captain Rogers, when negotiations had proceeded for full two days without result. "I, for one, am for attacking the city right now!" "Yes! On! On!" cried his men. Even the cautious Dover was ready to advance; so, landing upon the beach, the one hundred and ten ran towards the town with a wild, exultant whoop! _Zip! Zip!_ came the bullets from the nearer houses, as the privateers advanced. _Boom! Boom!_ sounded the guns from the _Duchess_ and the _Duke_, which had edged up near the wharves and anchored. Shells shrieked and burst; guns roared; and, with a hoarse cheer, the English beat down two lines of Spaniards who opposed them. Back, back, they crushed the defenders of Guayaquil to the market-place in the centre of the town, where four cannon were drawn up behind a barricade which was flanked by cavalry. _Crash! Crash!_ they roared at the on-coming privateers, and many a man went down before the exploding grape and cannister. But the blood of the English was now up. "Take the guns!" shouted Woodes Rogers. "Scale the barricade and spike the pieces!" With a mighty roar the jack-tars ran for the engines of death; leaping over the wall of the defenses; bayonetting the gunners; turning the spitting war-engines upon the cavalry, which, in confusion and dismay, was driven down a crooked lane. It was the last stand. The English standard soon waved from the flag-pole of the House of Justice. "And now," cried Captain Rogers, gleefully, "I'll meet the worthy _Padres_ and treat with them for a ransom. We'll make them pay full well to get back the neat little town of Guayaquil." Crestfallen and abashed, the city fathers were soon brought before the privateer. "Señor," said they, "your men can fight like devils. Señor, you are the first man to have taken our town, and many a Buccaneer has endeavored to do so!" Captain Rogers smiled. "Tut! Tut!" said he. "The English can always battle. But--Fathers--you must pay me well for this affair. I demand thirty thousand pieces of eight ($35,000 or about £6,750) as ransom for your fair city. I will give you two days in which to collect it." The worthy _Padres_ hung their heads. "You English," said they, "are cruel extortioners." Yet--in two day's time--the British marched to their boats with colors flying, bugles blowing, and drums beating a rollicking tattoo. Captain Rogers brought up the rear with a few men. He had secured the ransom and fairly smiled with exuberant joy. "Our sailors," says he, "kept continually dropping their pistols, cutlasses, and pole-axes; which shows they had grown careless and very weak--weary of being soldiers--and it was high time that we should be gone from hence to the shores of Merrie England." Thus, on April 28th, when the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_ weighed anchor and stood out to sea: guns roared: trumpets blew: the men cheered. "And so," writes the gallant Rogers, "we took leave of the Spaniards very cheerfully, but not half so well pleased as we should have been if we had taken 'em by surprise; for I was well assured from all hands, that at least we should then have got about two hundred thousand pieces of eight in money (£45,000 or $225,000); and in jewels, diamonds, and wrought and unwrought gold and silver." * * * * * The owners of the two privateers: the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_, sat in solemn meeting at the good town of Bristol. It was the month of October, 1711. The fat Quakers were smiling, for Captain Rogers had brought them back equally fat moneys. The rugged merchants laughed, for the venture had been a howling success. "And you were wounded?" said a stockholder, turning to the bronzed sea-rover who stood before them, giving account and reckoning of his journey to the Spanish Main. "A scratch," replied the stout sea-dog, smiling. "When we tackled a Manila ship on the way home from Guayaquil, I got a ball through the jaw, and a splinter in the left foot. It laid me up for full three weeks, but, gentlemen, a cat and Woodes Rogers both have nine lives." And even the sober Quaker fathers laughed at this sally. "You have done well," they said. "We will reward you with money and a good berth. How would you care to be Governor of the Bahamas?" "Fine!" said Woodes Rogers, chuckling. And that is the way the old sea-barnacle spent his declining years, dying at the tropic isle on July 16th, 1732. Hail to this Prince of Privateers! TWILIGHT AT SEA The twilight hours like birds flew by, As lightly and as free; Ten thousand stars were in the sky, Ten thousand on the sea; For every wave with dimpled face, That leaped up in the air, Had caught a star in its embrace, And held it trembling there. FORTUNATUS WRIGHT THE MOST HATED PRIVATEERSMAN OF THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA (1715-1765) "It was a high counsel which I once heard given to a young person: 'Always do what you are afraid to do.'"--EMERSON. FORTUNATUS WRIGHT THE MOST HATED PRIVATEERSMAN OF THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA (1715-1765) "'_Be sure you're right, then go ahead!_' was coined by Andrew Jackson, Who was a fighter, tough as nails, and loved to lay the whacks on, He followed out this sage advice, in spite of opposition, While everybody winked and said,--'_A Fellow with a Mission!_' In other days, in other climes, there lived a seaman daring, Who loved a fight, as well as he,--was just as good at swearing; His name was Wright, and thus in spite of all his foemen said, Old _Fortune_ Wright, was surely right, whene'er he went ahead!" --_Chants of the Eastern Clipper Ships._--1846. In the year 1744 war was declared between England and France. French privateers harried the coast of her rival, caught her merchantmen whenever they ventured away from stout men-o'-warsmen, and chased them in the blue, shimmering waters of the Mediterranean. It seemed as if there were never gun-boats enough to protect the British shipping, and thus many of the English merchants grew choleric and angry. Englishmen carried on quite a trade with Italy, Greece, and the countries of Asia Minor, and at Leghorn--upon the Italian coast--they had numerous trading shops and docks for their own vessels. They began to suffer, not only great annoyance, but also great loss, from the depredations of the French privateers which swarmed about the harbor mouth and scurried into every corner of the ragged coast-line. Their trade was hampered, their ships compelled to remain in port, or--if they ventured out--they were inevitably captured. The situation was unbearable. "My! My!" said one of the red-faced merchants. "My! My! We must have a remedy for this. My! My! We must have our own privateers!" "Well spoken," cried another. "And I know the very man to help us out. He is living here, now, and his name is Fortunatus Wright. Gentlemen! I tell you he is a true sea-dog! He is the fellow to cripple these saucy, French bushwhackers of the sea." "Hear! Hear!" cried others. And thus Mr. Fortunatus Wright was sought for, and was asked: "Will you take charge of a privateer for the British merchants of Leghorn? Will you chase these rascally Frenchmen? Will you cripple their operations? Will you chastise these sea-robbers?" To this Mr. Fortunatus Wright, being a true seaman with the love of the salt water tugging at his heart strings, is said to have remarked, "Whoop-ee!" Which being interpreted means: "Gentlemen, I'm dee-lighted!" As luck would have it, there was a vessel lying in the harbor which was directly available. She was a brigantine called the _Fame_, and, although we know little about her tonnage and the number of stout sea-dogs whom she could carry, it is apparent that Fortunatus Wright considered her most admirably suited for his venture. At any rate he soon boarded her, swore in a crew of stalwart seamen, and saw that plenty of gunpowder, cutlasses, boarding-pikes and muskets were aboard. It was September, 1746, and, before the close of the month of December, the _Fame_ had captured eighteen prizes, one of which was a hulking, French privateer with twenty guns and one hundred and fifty men, especially fitted out to put an end to the career of the vessel of Fortunatus Wright. They had met off the port of Messina and had had a roaring, little scrimmage, but--seeing that matters were going ill with him--the French captain had cried: "Run for the shore! Run our ship aground! We will fix her so that this English hound cannot make a prize of us!" "Voilà! Voilà!" his men had shouted. "Oui! We will f-e-e-x th-e-es Eengleesh chien! Oui! Au revoir, Monsieur Wright!" So saying, the privateer had been run upon the sandy beach, bows on, where her crew took to the brush, yelling derisively at the _Fame_ as she came up within hail,--sails snug down so as to move cautiously. The Frenchmen had counted without their host. "We'll float her, my hearties!" cried Wright. "All hands ashore in the small boats. Tie hawsers to her stern and pull her off!" This they did, while the French captain, far back in the brush, saw it and fairly boiled with disappointment and rage. "Zees Wright," he blustered. "One cannot outweet heem." So the privateer was towed into the harbor of Leghorn, where all the English merchants cried: "Good! Good! Now we have a true man to fight our battles! Huzzah for Fortunatus Wright!" The French were furious, while at the island of Malta (where were numerous French, Spanish, Austrian and English traders) the feeling grew intense. Here the Austrians sided with the English and several duels were fought by angry officers, as crafty Fortunatus Wright continued to send in his prizes. Finally the French merchants forwarded a missive to Marseilles, in France, which ran: "Can the French be further humiliated by this corsair--this robber--Fortunatus Wright? Let our people fit out a privateer sufficiently large to cope with him, and let her defeat and cripple this fellow. Make haste, for he is doing much damage!" An answer came back. "Before a month is gone, Monsieur Wright will no more harass your privateers. What we have determined to do, we shall do!" Word of this was brought to Captain Fortunatus Wright and he only smiled broadly. "There'll be another ship to bring into Malta, care of F. Wright, Esq.," said he. "And it will be labelled Collect on Delivery." Not three weeks later the French vessel came jauntily into the harbor of Malta. The captain was a man of considerable repute as a seaman and fighter, and he was warmly received by the French. They invited him to many dinners. "Voilà!" said they. "Here is the fellow to do the tr-e-e-k. Tenez! There will soon be one b-e-eg mince pie we-eth Captain Wright eenside. Ha! Ha!" It is never well to count your chickens before they hatch or to pat a man upon the back before he has won a victory. Eagerly the French captain cruised outside, continually upon the watch for slippery Skipper Wright. His vessel was superior to the _Fame_ in numbers of both guns and men. He was sure of victory. "If only the hated Englishman would appear!" he grumbled. Meanwhile the excitement and expectation at Malta became intense. Finally it was noised abroad that the terrible privateer had been sighted about five miles off the harbor. All factions were aroused: the Austrians and English slapping the French and Spaniards upon the back, and saying, "Now there will be a chance to sink bold Captain Wright, Messieurs!" To which the irritable Frenchmen would answer, "Ah! Yes! He will be gobbled up like Jonah by the whale. Pouff!" The French privateer sailed out to meet the foe, and soon her white canvas had disappeared from view around a jutting headland. The stranger ran off. The Frenchman pursued, and soon both were lost to the eager gaze of the population of Malta, which crowded every headland, eager and expectant for the bloody battle. The shore was black with people. Hours passed. Another day came and with it the news that two vessels had been sighted off the entrance to the harbor. Hundreds rushed to the headlands and cliffs in order to see the victor and the vanquished, for two cruisers were approaching, the one towing the other. "Huzzah!" shouted an enthusiastic Frenchman. "We have won! See--up go the French colors upon the first vessel. The other--poof--eet ees a jelly. Eet ees pounded to ze shreds." "Huzzah!" shouted all of his compatriots, and they danced about, shaking hands, embracing, and waving their hats and their handkerchiefs. "Ce cher Wright!" cried they. "He ees een the soup, eh?" And what of the Englishmen? They--of course--said nothing, but bit their lips, looked at their Austrian friends, and hung their heads dejectedly. Here is the most beautiful part of all this story, for Fortunatus Wright, my boys, was a joker--a real, true end man in a minstrel show--and he was having his fun with "the Frenchies." His vessel--indeed--had come off victorious, in spite of the fact that she had been much more shattered than the other contestant. Therefore, Wright had put her in tow of the captured Frenchman, which he, himself, was steering, with the crew of his opponent down in the hold, as prisoners of war. Seeing the crowded headlands and swarming ramparts in the harbor, he could not resist the temptation of hoisting the flag of France. He chuckled as he saw the effect it produced upon the crowd, then--as the vessels rounded a fort at the entrance to the harbor--down came the colors of France and up went the English flag to the peak, with the French flag below. And then--well, you can imagine how the Englishmen and Austrians yelled, and how the poor Frenchmen beat a hasty flight for their homes. Fortunatus Wright had had a sweet revenge. He laughed long and hard, while the Frenchmen said, "Curse heem! He ees a devil! A thousand curses upon the head of thees Wright! Sapristi!" And they did not open any more bottles of wine for their supposedly great captain from Marseilles. As for Fortunatus Wright, he continued to harass the French and get into trouble, as the following anecdote well shows. Not long after his famous battle, he was travelling in Italy with introductions to many of the nobility, and arrived--one day--before the city gates of Lucca. Here was stationed a guard, and a sentinel scrutinized him with great care and deliberation. Fortunatus Wright grew impatient. "Can I not go by?" said he. "My passports are correct!" "No! No!" answered the soldier. "I no likea zose peestols in your belta. You must deeliver them to me before you can go to ze ceety." The English sea-captain said nothing, but the color rose in his cheeks. In an instant he raised one of his pistols and pointed it at the head of the astonished sentry. "The first man that endeavors to take my weapons from me," he yelled, "does so at the cost of his life!" The guardsman was flabbergasted. "Corporal of the Guard! Post Number Two!" he shouted, presenting his musket at the same instant, and pointing it at the head of the irascible Captain Wright. Immediately a dozen soldiers came running to the spot. They surrounded the irate English traveller. He was ordered to "Throw up your hands!" "You air one mad Englishmana!" said the Officer of the Guard. "Here. Comea weeth usa! We weel feexa youa!" Seeing that the odds were too much against him, Captain Wright allowed himself to be taken to the guard house, while a soldier was dispatched to the British Ambassador in order to explain that "they had captured an Englishman as mad as a mad dog!" Things looked bad for the great privateersman. But was his name not Fortunatus? And was not good fortune always with him? A nobleman to whom the bold mariner had a letter now intervened in his favor, and secured the release of the high-tempered man-of-the-sea. On the morning of the fourth day of his captivity, and at the early hour of four, a soldier waked Captain Fortunatus Wright, who was peacefully sleeping at a military prison. A missive was handed him, and he read: "SEIGNEUR WRIGHT:--Since you have been so daring as to attempt to enter the town of Lucca by force, it is therefore ordered that you shall now leave the State and never presume to enter it again, without leave from the Republic. Post-horses, with a guard to see you over the border, are now ready for you. We trust that you shall have a safe journey. "By order of the "GOVERNOR OF LUCCA." "These Italians are the most unreasonable people alive," growled Captain Wright. But he pocketed both his pride and his pistols, entered the post-chaise at the door, and was soon rolling forth for other parts. In spite of this order--he continued to reside in Italy, with the true independence of a privateersman. In December, 1746, the bold seafarer made an exceptionally good capture: a French vessel on a voyage from Marseilles to Naples, with a rich cargo and the servants and luggage of a real potentate,--the Prince of Campo Florida. When valorous Wright stepped aboard of her, her captain was scraping and bowing near the rail. "Ah, Seigneur!" said he, "you have taken me, that is true. But you cannot touch my cargo or my men. See,--here is a pass from King George the Second of England. It says, 'All of the cargo, passengers, and crew of _La Belle Florence_ shall be exempt from molestation by English cruisers and privateers.' What say you to that?" Captain Wright looked sad, but he seized the paper and read it with care. His smile broadened as he perused the document. "How am I to know that this particular ship is to go free?" said he. "For although you told me that the name of your vessel (_La Belle Florence_) was mentioned in this document, I do not find that it is mentioned. The paper merely states that 'the vessel' shall not be molested, and, my boy, you may have stolen this from some other skipper. Ah! Ha! You are my prize and shall go with me into Leghorn." You should have seen the face of the Frenchman! "I vill haf revenge!" said he. And he had it. For, when the matter was referred to the British Minister, he turned it over to the Admiral who commanded the English ships at this station, and this high official made Captain Wright give up both vessel and cargo. He did so with the same unwillingness that he had shown when asked to leave the quaint, little town of Lucca. Captain Wright, you see, had that bull-dog stubbornness which is characteristic of men of the British Isles. He believed in hanging on to everything which he took. A bit later, this trait got him into serious difficulties and into prison. A number of English merchants were trading with the people of Turkey under the name of "The Company of English Merchants trading to the Levant Sea," and, finding it impossible to ship all of their goods in British vessels, they often sent them in the holds of French ships. True it was that France was at war with England at this time, but, as these were English cargoes, the British naturally thought that they should be allowed to come through, unmolested, even though the French vessels might be captured by English privateers. But they had not reckoned with Fortunatus Wright. Two French clipper ships were scudding quietly along off the Italian coast, one bright day in June of 1747, when a rakish vessel appeared upon the horizon and speedily bore down upon them. They crowded on sail, but they could not outdistance their pursuer, who was soon near enough to fire a gun across the bow of the foremost, and flaunt the English colors in her face. "Helas!" growled the French skipper. "Eet ees that devil, ze Captain Wright. Eet is all up with me! Helas!" So he came to and surrendered; but the other fellow pounded away at the British privateer with a couple of swivel guns and put up a smart, little skirmish before a well-directed shot from the deck of the Englishman, knocked a topmast crashing over the port side. Crippled, she surrendered. It did not take Captain Wright long to sail into Leghorn harbor with his prizes. The holds were filled with bales of rich goods, marked: "The property of the Company of English Merchants trading to the Levant Sea." "I'll sell the bloomin' cargoes," cried Wright. "For the vessels were under the French flag and we're at war with that nation. Besides this, one of them put up a fight against me." Thus--the cargoes were sold--Captain Fortunatus pocketed the money, and went upon his way, rejoicing. But he did not rejoice very long, for the British merchants were furious with anger, and procured--through some means or other--an order from the English Government to the effect that English cargoes in French vessels were not to be touched--when captured by British privateers. Word was sent to Captain Wright to refund the money which he had secured by the sale of the cargoes captured in the French ships, and the property of "The Company of English Merchants trading to the Levant Sea." To this Captain Wright answered, "Bah! I have the money. I intend to keep it!" Orders were sent from England to have this fellow arrested and shipped home; so the Italian police obligingly captured the old sea-dog, locked him up, and kept him in jail for six months, while the attorneys fought over the legality of the affair. At length the bluff privateersman was allowed to go free, and--he never paid back the money. "These fellows attacked me at law," he wrote, "but I have not acted contrary to it. I am an Englishman. I am acting under a commission from the King of England, and, when we are at war with France, I intend to hold and keep all the cargoes which I capture in French vessels. As for this 'English Company trading to the Levant Sea!' let them learn a lesson and pack their goods in future in English vessels. English oak should be good enough for English cargoes." The "English Company trading to the Levant Sea" had certainly learned that Fortunatus Wright was as stubborn as a mule, and--in the future--they employed no French vessels to carry their bales of commerce. _A wise dog only allows himself to be bitten once._ France and England now came to a peaceable settlement of their difficulties, but in 1755 war broke out afresh. Fortunatus Wright chuckled, for he itched for another brush upon the wide sweep of the ocean, and a chance to take a prize or two. So the _Fame_ not being available, he had a small vessel constructed at Leghorn, and called her the _Saint George_. She was a fast sailer and was as graceful as a sea-gull. "In this fair ship," said he, as he gazed upon her admiringly, "I shall take many a prize and shall have, I trust, many a sharp adventure. _Saint George_, I salute you! May you bring me only the best of luck!" Trouble was in store for the well-hated mariner even before he turned his vessel's prow into the Mediterranean, for--in spite of the fact that the Italians were neutral--their sympathies were strongly with France, and they looked with decided disfavor upon the graceful hull of the _Saint George_, as she bobbed serenely upon the surface of the bay. Knowing full well the reputation of this famous seaman, they paid particular attention to his little craft, and sent a number of officials to inspect her. In a few days the intrepid Fortunatus received the information that, as his was a merchant vessel, he must carry a crew of only five-and-twenty men, and an armament of four small guns. At this the old sea-dog only laughed, and exhibited the greatest anxiety to comply with the requirements of the law. "I would suggest," said he to one of the officials of the town, "that you keep guard-boats rowing around my ship in order to be sure that I do not take on more guns and men than the law permits, before I set sail." The officer smiled. "We are watching you closely," said he. "For Monsieur Wright, it is said that you are as crafty as a cat!" The mariner grinned, and, before going to sea, obtained from the Governor, a certificate to the effect that he had complied with all the requirements of the law. Armed with this, on July 28th, 1756, he put to sea, in company with four merchant vessels laden with valuable cargoes, and bound for the shores of England. Carefully the _Saint George_ had been watched, so carefully, in fact, that the authorities had overlooked the lading of the other vessels, aboard which numerous guns, howitzers, and hand-spikes had been smuggled, besides a number of seamen who were well-experienced in fighting upon the ocean. It is true that Fortunatus Wright was as crafty as a cat, or--as they say in Maine--"You'd have to git up early if yer wanted ter lick him." Not only had the officials at Leghorn watched every move of this well-known privateersman, but they had sent word to the French that Wright had only a feeble force, that he was accompanying several rich prizes, and that he could be easily beaten and captured by a vessel of any size. So much hated was he, that it is said the French king had promised Knighthood and a handsome life pension to the sailor who could bring Wright to the shores of France _dead or alive_. The merchants of Marseilles were particularly bitter against him, for he had captured many of their ships, and in the market-place (where all could see it) had been posted a placard, which ran: "ALL SAILORS AND SEAMEN ATTENTION! To the person, or persons, who will capture and bring to France, the body of the arch-villain Captain Fortunatus Wright, shall be given A SUM DOUBLE THE VALUE OF WRIGHT'S VESSEL. Frenchmen! Catch this Thief! Bring him in Dead or Alive! Do your Duty! This sum is guaranteed by the Merchants and Ship-owners of Marseilles, and the Chamber of Commerce." Wright had heard of this, and it sent a grim look into his eyes. He also heard that a vessel was cruising outside the harbor in wait for him, and thus he was not surprised, as he saw a large boat upon his port bow, when only a few hours' sail from the snug harbor of Leghorn. This vessel--a zebeque--had been waiting for the well-hated privateersman for several days, as her captain had been warned by the Italians that Wright was about to set sail. She had three masts, each carrying a huge, three-cornered sail, sixteen guns of considerable size, and several swivels. Her crew numbered two hundred and eighty men, well armed and eager for a brush with the famous Fortunatus, whose proverbial good fortune seemed now to have deserted him. Rounding to, Wright signalled to his merchantmen to draw near and hurriedly transported some of the cannon, which he had smuggled, to his own vessel. He also added to his small crew, so that--when the zebeque came pounding down within shooting distance--he had increased his sailors from twenty-five to seventy-five, and his guns, from four to twelve. "Now let the Frenchie come on!" he cried. "I'm half prepared, but I'll give her a warmer welcome than she ever had in all her career!" "Huzzah! Huzzah!" shouted his men, who were a motley collection of all nationalities: Italians, English, Portuguese, Dutch, Germans, and a few Arabs. "Huzzah! Huzzah! Wright forever!" The Arabs, of course, didn't say this, but they tried to. The French were very confident, and, as they came within range of the guns of the little _Saint George_ they began to sing a hymn of victory, while their captain already saw, in his hands, the rich reward offered by the good citizens of Marseilles. "Poof!" he chuckled. "Monsieur Wright, he soon take dinnaire in my cabin. Poof!" But Monsieur Wright was a different fellow than he imagined, and his men--although of all nationalities--were so animated by his stirring and martial spirit, that they fought better than they had ever fought in their lives before. You all know how necessary to success "Spirit" is in a foot-ball team, or a base-ball nine. The team which has the do-or-dare spirit, the never-give-up-until-the-last-gun-is-fired determination, is usually the team that wins. And the spirit of the captain is the controlling factor in any contest. If he be no desperate fighter, his followers will not be desperate fighters. If he is weak-kneed in a crisis, his followers will be weak-kneed. So this motley crew, under Fortunatus Wright, cheered onward by the dauntless navigator, fought as they had never fought before. Arab and German strove as well as Englishman and Italian to battle strenuously beneath the eye of the famous privateersman. They had never been together before, but, animated by the presence of this fearless "cock-of-the-Mediterranean," they now sailed into the Frenchman as if the zebeque were a vessel of equal strength and armament. Cheer after cheer welled into the air as the two antagonists drew near each other, while the puff of white smoke from the sides of the French vessel was followed by the _chug! chug!_ of solid shot, as it cut up the waves near the body of the staunch, little _Saint George_. "It's three to one against us, Boys!" shouted the battle-scarred Captain Wright. "Fire for the enemy's rigging and bring down one of her masts, if you can. If you fight hard we can lick her!" The screech of a shell cut his words short, for a piece of iron passed dangerously near his lips, striking a stout Italian in the neck, and rendering him useless for further conflict. Around and around in a wide circle floated the two sea-warriors, for the wind was light and just drove them along at the rate of a snail's pace. The rag-tag-and-bob-tail crew on the _Saint George_ stood to their guns like veterans and poured in such a hot fire that the French captain speedily realized that his only chance for victory was to board and overwhelm the English by superior numbers. "Bring the vessel up on her starboard side!" he commanded. "And get out the boarding-pikes! Now we'll finish Captain Wright!" The zebeque soon ranged alongside the battered _Saint George_, threw her grappling hooks into the rigging, and her men were in a hand-to-hand struggle with the motley crew who battled for the veteran Fortunatus. _Slash! Slash! Crack!_ The cutlasses cut and parried, the pistols spat, and the boarding-pikes thrust and struck. Cheering wildly the Frenchmen attempted to climb upon the deck of the privateer, but the followers of old Wright fought like demons. They parried and thrust like fiends; and such was the ferocity of their struggle that the boarders were repulsed with great slaughter. [Illustration: "THE BOARDERS WERE REPULSED WITH GREAT SLAUGHTER."] "Thees Wright ees a very hornet for a fight!" sighed the French captain, as he ordered the grappling hooks cast off, and floated his vessel away. _Poom! Poom!_ There was still some fight left in the little _Saint George_ and her dauntless crew kept pounding iron at the sullen zebeque, which, shattered and torn, filled away and made for the open sea. Her captain had been struck by a piece of shell just as the battle closed; two lieutenants were killed, seventy men were wounded, and eighty-eight had been killed by the accurate shooting of the "Never-Say-Dies" under Captain Fortunatus Wright: the invincible. It had been a gallant battle, gallantly fought by both sides, and gallantly won. Bold navigator Wright followed his crippled adversary for several miles, then--seeing another French gun-boat threatening his convoy--he returned to the merchant-ships which had accompanied him; sent them back into Leghorn harbor; and followed, next day, with the proud, but battered _Saint George_. It had been a glorious victory. No sooner had the war-scarred Captain Wright let go his anchor chains in the harbor of Leghorn than he realized that he had only just begun to fight. "Sapristi!" said an Italian official. "This pirate has deceived us! This fellow was allowed but four guns upon his ship and he had twelve. To the jail with this dog! To the prison with this cut-throat! Sapristi!" A boat soon rowed to the _Saint George_ and an order was delivered to Captain Wright to the effect that he must bring his vessel into the inner harbor, and, if he did not obey, she would be brought in by Italian gun-boats. Wright--of course--refused. So two big Italian warships sailed up upon either side of the _Saint George_, ran out their guns, and cast anchor. "I will not move for the entire Italian Government!" roared Captain Fortunatus. "I will appeal to the British consul for protection, as England is at war with France, not with Italy." Now was a pretty how-de-do. The Italians were furious with the stubborn privateersman for refusing to obey their orders, but, in truth, the way that he had deceived them in smuggling the extra cannon aboard--when under their own eyes--is what had roused their quick, Tuscan tempers. They thought that they had been sharp--well--here was a man who was even sharper than they, themselves. "Sapristi!" they cried. "To the jail weeth heem!" There was a terrific war of words between the British consul and the officials of that snug, little town. Then, the problem was suddenly solved, for, two powerful, English men-of-war dropped into the harbor: the _Jersey_ of sixty guns, and the _Isis_ mounting fifty. The authorities of Leghorn were told that they had orders from the Admiral of the British, Mediterranean fleet, to convoy any English merchantmen which might be there, and _to release the Saint George immediately_. Wright threw up his cap and cheered, but the officials of Leghorn said things which cannot be printed. Thus the _Saint George_ sailed upon her way, unmolested, and was soon taking more prizes upon the broad waters of the Mediterranean. The path of the privateer is not strewn with roses. Captain Fortunatus found that his reputation had gone abroad and it had not been to his credit, for, when he put in at Malta he was not allowed to buy provisions for his ship. "You are a beastly pirate!" said an official. "You cannot purchase anything here for your nefarious business." "I am a privateer!" answered Wright, with anger. "A privateer looks just the same to me as a pirate," sarcastically sneered the official. And Captain Fortunatus had to look elsewhere for provisions. As he cruised along, a big, French cruiser of thirty-eight guns chased the little _Saint George_ as if to gobble her up alive. "Boys! We shall now have some fun!" said Captain Wright. "I can sail faster than this Frenchy. Just watch me!" So, when the great beast of a French vessel came lumbering by, Wright played with her like a cat with a mouse; sailed around her in circles; shot guns at her rigging--just to aggravate the men from the sunny land--and then dipped his ensign and went careening away as if nothing had happened. No wonder that the French hated and despised this valiant mariner! Wouldn't you have done so if you had been a Frenchman? Thus Captain Fortunatus Wright continued upon his privateering, his fighting, and his cruising; bearing terror to his enemies but satisfaction to his friends. His name was as well known among those who sailed the Mediterranean as was that of the great Napoleon in later years, and it was just as cordially hated by those who opposed him. "The Ogre from Leghorn" was one of his titles, while some applied to him the choice epithet of "The Red Demon from Italy." At any rate this did not seem to worry the veteran sea-dog, who continued to take prizes and make money until the year 1757. Then he disappears from history, for the body of brave, resolute, stubborn, and valiant Captain Fortunatus Wright mysteriously and suddenly vanished from this earth. What was his end? Perhaps he perished while boarding the deck of some craft which was manned by men as gallant as his own. Perhaps he fell while stemming the advance of a crew of wild Frenchmen, eager for his blood and remembering the many victories which he had won over their countrymen. Perhaps, in the wild, wind-tossed wastes of the Mediterranean, his vessel--unable to cope with the elements--was hurled upon some jagged rock and sunk in the sobbing waters of the frothing sea. Perhaps he was captured, hurried to some dark prison, and died in one of those many dungeons which disgrace the cities of the Italian coast. Perhaps he was hanged for privateering. At any rate, nothing is known of the last days of this dauntless navigator save what can be gathered from an old grave in St. Peter's churchyard, in Liverpool. Here is the tombstone of the father of Fortunatus Wright, an inscription upon which, tells us that he was a master-mariner of Liverpool; that he defended his ship--on one occasion--most gallantly against two vessels of superior force; and that he died, not by the stroke of a boarding-pike, but safely in his own home. To this is added the information that: "Fortunatus Wright, his son, was always victorious, and humane to the vanquished. He was a constant terror to the enemies of his king and his country." That is all. THE DEEP There's beauty in the deep: The wave is bluer than the sky; And though the lights shine bright on high, More softly do the sea-gems glow That sparkle in the depths below; The rainbow tints are only made When on the waters they are laid. And sea and moon most sweetly shine Upon the ocean's level brine. There's beauty in the deep. There's quiet in the deep. Above, let tide and tempest rave, And earth-born whirlwinds wake the wave; Above, let care and fear contend With sin and sorrow to the end: Here, far beneath the tainted foam That frets above our peaceful home, We dream in joy, and walk in love, Nor know the rage that yells above. There's quiet in the deep. GEORGE WALKER WINNER OF THE GAMEST SEA FIGHT OF THE ENGLISH CHANNEL (1727-1777) "'War is Hell,' said General William T. Sherman. But,--better have war than bow to an inferior nation."--_Doctrines of the Strenuous Life._ GEORGE WALKER WINNER OF THE GAMEST SEA FIGHT OF THE ENGLISH CHANNEL (1727-1777) "If Britain can but breed th' men, Who are like Walker made, She'll have no fear of danger, When th' foe starts to invade. When th' foe starts to invade, my boys, An' creep along th' shore, Where th' curling breakers wash th' cliffs, Where th' breeching combers roar. Then, lift a glass to Walker, Of _Glorioso_ fame, _May we ne'er forget his deed lads,_ _May we ne'er forget his name_." --_Chants from The Channel._--1769. It was the year 1739, and the good people of Charleston, South Carolina, were in a great state of agitation. Little knots of merchants, sailors, clerks, and dock-hands clustered about each other in the narrow streets. And, above the hub-bub of many voices, could be heard the solemn sentence, oft repeated: "The pirate is off the narrows! The pirate will soon be here!" Then all would gaze seaward with startled faces, and would murmur: "The pirate--the Spanish pirate will be here." As they thus stood irresolutely, a strongly-knit fellow came walking towards the dock-end. He was clad in gray; his face was deeply seamed by long exposure to the elements; and high top-boots of leather encased his lower limbs. "What ho! Good citizens," said he. "Do I understand that a Spaniard has frightened you all? Why, where's your courage?" "Courage?" answered a rotund-bodied merchant. "Of that we have a plenty. But we have no ship with which to combat this fellow--or fellows--for some of my skippers tell me that there are two of them off the coast, and that they've captured twenty trading vessels." The newcomer smiled. "I've got a staunch craft here," said he. "My name is Walker, and I hail from Bristol, England. My ship--the _Duke William_--mounts but twenty guns, and my crew is but of thirty-two, yet, I know that many of you gentlemen will volunteer your services, particularly if there is to be a nice little battle." "Hear! Hear!" came from all sides. "You're the boy for us! You're the chap we've been looking for! Hear! Hear!" It did not take long to increase the crew of the _Duke William_. Several of the wealthy colonists volunteered their services; many sailors were there who had been fighting on the Spanish Main. They were eager and anxious to join. So, before three days were out, the _Duke William_ spread her canvas for the open sea, carrying one hundred men and an additional twenty guns. Now--you see--she could put up an excellent fight with the average pirate-ship which cruised about the low-lying and sandy coast. Out into the broad expanse of the Atlantic glided the little barque and eagerly the mariners scanned the horizon for some signs of the pirate. "She's been hereabouts!" cried one stout seaman. "For several of my mess-mates saw her sails down near the channel islands. And her flag was surely black with th' skull an' cross-bones." "Must have heard that we were coming, then," growled Captain Walker, "for there's nothing in view." In an hour's time he thought differently, for, "Sail ho!" sounded from the forward deck, and there, far off to leeward, was the outline of a long, blackish vessel, bearing no flag at her mizzen or stern. Crowding on all canvas--for the breeze was light--the _Duke William_ bore away towards her. "It must be the pirate!" said all, for, also crowding on all sail, the vessel headed up the coast, and did her utmost to get away. On, on, went pursuer and pursued; on, on, and the _Duke William_ began to draw dangerously close to the fleeing vessel, which now could be easily seen. She was a brigantine, carrying about eighteen guns, with a high stern and graceful lines. No flags waved from her mast-heads. Suddenly the scudding sea-warrior pointed her nose in-shore, ran around the corner of a sandy island, and bore away into a seemingly large lagoon upon the other side. The _Duke William_ followed, and, as she rounded a jutting sand-spit, there before her lay a little schooner, on the deck of which were seen several sailors, waving and gesticulating frantically. Behind, and on the shore, was an earth-work, from which several cannon pointed their black muzzles. On a flag-pole in the centre, waved a Spanish flag, and, beneath it, a black ensign upon which was the skull-and-cross-bones. "It's the pirate stronghold!" cried several, at once. "We're in for a tight skirmish!" But Captain Walker only smiled. The brigantine, which he had been following, now rounded-to, opened her port-holes, and fired a couple of shots toward the pursuing craft. At the same time an English flag was hoisted on the schooner, and a fellow on her deck sang out through a speaking trumpet. "Thank Heaven you have come! We were only captured two days ago! Hurrah for the English flag!" The _Duke William_ kept on after the brigantine, her mixed crew yelling with joy, now that they were to have an action. _Bang! Bang!_ Her two forward guns spoke, and a shot went ripping through one of the foresails of the pirate. This was enough for the fighting spirit of those who sailed the Spanish Main. For, putting about, the brigantine scudded through a narrow channel, known only to her skipper (for no one else could have followed without grounding upon a sand-spit), and was soon running away upon the opposite side of a low-lying island, now flaunting the pirate-flag from her halyards. "She's gone!" sadly remarked the gallant Captain Walker, "but we can capture the gun-battery. Make ready to go ashore, if needed!" Steering for the coast, the guns of the _Duke William_ opened upon the sandy barricade, and shot after shot was soon making the dirt and gravel fly in every direction: _Poom! Poom! Cu-poom!_ The cannon in the earth-work next began to speak, and, it was apparent, from the strange noises which some of them made, that they were full of rust. _Cu-Poom! Cu-Pow! Chuck-chuck-cu-swash!_ they roared, and a few balls began to whistle about the spars of the _Duke William_. There were some accurate marksmen upon the deck of the British vessel, and, as she lay broadside to the fortification, one well-aimed shot struck a cannon and dismounted it; while another shattered the flag-pole and brought down the flag with a crash. "Hurrah!" shouted the men from Charleston. "Now we'll even up with these cursed pirates for all the damage that they've done us. Now, we'll teach them not to ravage our coasts and catch our merchant ships!" _Cu-whow!_ barked the rust-caked guns of the barricade. "_Go-slow! Go-back! Go-home!_" To this a full broadside roared, and the balls tore the top of the earth-work to shreds. "Now let thirty men take to the boats!" commanded Captain Walker. "Steer for the beach and rush the barricade with pistols and cutlasses. I don't believe that there are more than a dozen men inside the earth-work." "Huzzah!" was the cheerful answer to this order, and, in a few moments, several boats were racing for the beach, each eager to be the first ashore. As they approached, the antiquated guns on the sand-spit became strangely silent, and, as the eager raiders rushed valiantly upon the pirate fortress, no shots were fired at them to impede their progress. With a wild yell they leaped over the side of the barricade, only to find it deserted; for whatever had been the force that had fired these cannon, it had taken to the brush as the English seamen drew near. Only a few charges of ammunition were there, so it was plainly evident that the pirates (whatever their strength might have been) could only have held out for a few more rounds. "Hurrah! Hurrah!" shouted the raiders. "The fort is ours!" "And it's a sorry victory," said one of the crew, "for there's nothing here worth the having, except the cannon, and they couldn't stand more than two more shots without blowing up. I call it a pretty hollow success." In spite of this the men of Charleston were well pleased. They had dispersed the pirates; taken their fort; and had re-captured a schooner which had recently been taken only a few miles from the harbor-mouth of that fair, southern city. When they sailed into their home port they received a tremendous ovation. The bells were rung in all the churches; shots were fired; trumpets were blown. "We could fall in with nothing that would stay for us upon the seas," said Captain Walker, modestly; but, in spite of this, he was treated like a great hero. All the influential persons in the Colony offered to sign a request that he might be given the command of a king's ship; but this he declined. So they tendered him an immense tract of land if he would remain in that country and drive off the pirates when next they became too bold and daring; but this he also declined, and stuck to his ship. In a few weeks he sailed for the Barbadoes, and then to England, in company with three unarmed trading-vessels which placed themselves under his convoy. The good people of Charleston bade him a sad and affectionate farewell. George Walker sailed forth smiling, but he was now to have far more trouble than his little affair with the pirates. When half way to England, a terrific gale struck the _Duke William_ and her convoys, which separated them by many miles, and made this good vessel (which had dispersed the pirates) leak like a sieve. The gale continued in its violence, while Captain Walker was so ill that the ship's surgeon despaired of his life. But note how grit and nerve pulled him through! On the second day of the tempest, a sailor rushed into his cabin, crying: "Captain! Captain! We'll founder, for the water is pouring into our bottom by the hogshead. We're gone for unless we take to the boats!" Captain Walker was not the man to leave his ship in such a crisis. "Throw all of the guns overboard, but two!" he ordered. "We need those in order to signal for help if a vessel comes near us. That will lighten us so that we can still float awhile." This was done, but, as the last cannon shot into the waves, a sailor burst into his cabin with the intelligence that the men had prepared to desert in the tenders. "Carry me on deck!" roared the resolute captain. "I'll give these cowards a piece of my mind." Three sailors seized him and bore him aloft, where he remonstrated with his men in the strongest language possible. In spite of this, many clustered about one of the boats. "The ship's a-sinking," cried one. "She won't stand up for an hour." As he spoke, the welcome sound of, "Sail ho!" arose, above the wash and roar of the angry water. Sure enough, a ship was bearing down upon them, but, to the dismay of all, she hastily hauled off again. Captain Walker was astonished. "She thinks us an armed enemy," said he. "Fire a gun, men, and cut the mizzen-mast in two, so that it falls overboard. That will show the stranger that we're a friend in distress." His orders were immediately obeyed and the mast came ripping and tearing over the side. A gun also roared, and the stranger, now convinced that the ship was a friend, and not a foe, came bearing down upon the crippled _Duke William_, to the rescue. "She's one of our own convoy!" shouted a seaman, waving his hand joyfully. And such she proved to be. Captain Walker had saved his crew by his foresight and quickness of decision. Had he thrown all of his cannon overboard he would have had no gun with which to hail the stranger, and, had he not cut away his own mast, she would have gone away, fearful that he was an enemy. Three cheers for the brave and thoughtful Captain Walker! He reached England, at last, but he and his men were in a sorry plight, for the vessel which had rescued them was almost as unseaworthy as their own, which sank in a great whirl of eddying foam, not half an hour after they had left her. Thus ended the career of the good ship which had chased all of the pirates away from the harbor of Charleston. A sad fate, indeed, for such a gallant craft. Captain Walker was not long idle, for he soon took charge of a brigantine trading to the Baltic Sea, in spite of the fact that war had been declared with France, and the privateers and gun-boats of that nation hovered in his path, eager and anxious to secure some English merchant vessel, as a prize. "I see that these fellows mean to catch me, if they can," said the keen-witted mariner. "So I intend to be ready for them if I do not happen to be near an English man-of-warsman when they come sailing by." He therefore shipped a number of wooden guns, which were painted black, so that, at a distance, they looked exactly like the real thing. Upon his vessel were only six cannon, so when--a short time afterwards--he was chased by a French privateer off the coast of Scotland--he had an excellent opportunity to "bluff" the bold marauder. As the Frenchman drew near, the vessel which Captain Walker was on kept steadily upon her way, and, through his glass, the cautious mariner saw that his pursuer carried fully twenty guns. "Run out our dummy cannon!" he ordered. Out were thrust the black, wooden muzzles, twenty-five in number, and--as the Frenchman was now within shooting distance--the English boat was luffed into the wind. In a second the British jack, ensign, and man-of-war's pendant were hoisted, and a gun was fired across the bow of the arrogant privateer. "Come on!" shouted bold Walker. "I am waiting for you!" But the enemy did not come on. Instead of this, she turned tail in a hurry, filled away, and made off as fast as a freshening breeze would drive her. "Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed the genial, English skipper. "Bluffed by a lot of wooden guns. Ha! Ha! Ha!" And all of his sailors gave a rousing cheer. This was indeed good fortune, but Captain Walker was soon to meet with some fortune which was quite the reverse. It was the year 1744 and the doughty sailor had accepted the command of the privateer _Mars_, of twenty-six guns and one hundred and thirty men, which sailed from London for a cruise in the English channel. With her was the _Boscawen_, another privateer with about the same number of guns, but with a crew of fully one hundred and eighty. They soon had an adventure which was not all to the liking of bold George Walker. At midnight, late in December, the two privateers were running near the coast of France. There was a heavy mist and rain, also a fresh breeze, so the steersmen could not well see what way they were going. Suddenly the hulls of two large vessels loomed up in the blackness, and the twinkling lights from their port-holes shone upon the dripping sides of the British privateers. Voices came through the mist--French voices--so it was apparent that the ships were not friends. "Those fellows are showing much alarm," said Captain Walker, a few moments later. "I therefore believe that the vessels are full of treasure. We'll hang on until daylight, at any rate, and see whether or no we cannot capture a rich cargo." Next morning, at eight o'clock, the fog suddenly lifted, disclosing--not two treasure ships--but two French men-of-war; one bearing seventy-four guns, the other sixty-four. "Egad!" ejaculated the startled Walker. "We're in a hornet's nest! I guess we'd better run for it!" The Frenchmen, however, were both treasure-ships, as well as men-of-war; both bound from the West Indies, with cargoes worth about four millions sterling ($20,000,000), which they were carrying into the harbor of Brest. They were not in good fighting trim, as their heavy cargoes made them low in the water, and very unwieldy. It is probable that they would not have attacked the two Englishmen, had not the captain of the _Boscawen_ turned tail and fled, leaving the _Mars_ all alone. "Did you ever see such a coward?" cried Captain Walker, with heat. "Boys! We're in for it now!" Sure enough, they were: for the Frenchmen saw that only one enemy was left, and immediately sent the sixty-four gun ship--the _Fleuron_--in pursuit. Walker turned his vessel about and clapped on all sail, but the large gun-boat quickly overhauled him. "Gentlemen!" said Captain Walker, as she rapidly approached. "I do not mean to be so rash as to attempt a regular engagement with so superior a force; all I ask of you is to confide in me and my orders, to get away--if possible--without striking our flag; and, be assured, I shall not call upon you to fight unless there is excellent opportunity for success. The ship which pursues us is certainly the better sailer of the two French men-of-war; yet, if we have good fortune with our shots, we may bring down a topmast or yard; or hurt her rigging so as to retard her pursuit. We may yet get entirely clear. So, my hearties, do not lose your nerve!" These wise remarks were greeted with a "Hip! Hip! Hooray!" Now was a lively chase. The _Mars_ hoisted the English flag, opened with her stern guns, and put on all available canvas. But she was not a fast sailer, and gradually but surely, the _Fleuron_ crept up on one side, and the other French man-of-war upon the other. She, too, had entered the chase. Finally the French vessels had the British privateer directly between them. "The jig is up!" cried Captain Walker, sadly. "Gentlemen, we do not strike to one ship only. Haul down the colors!" Down came the proud ensign, the sails were lowered, and the gallant Walker entered a boat, in order that he might be put aboard the _Fleuron_ and give up his sword. When he arrived on the deck he found the French captain by no means in the politest of humors. After receiving the weapon of the vanquished privateersman, the Frenchman thundered in very good English: "How dare you fire against a force like mine in so small a ship? Sirrah, you must be stark mad. I compliment you upon your lack of judgment." Captain Walker was nettled. "Sir," he replied, with warmth, "if you will look at my commission you will find that I had as good a right to fight as you, yourself, had. Furthermore, if my force had not been so inferior to yours, I would have shown you more civil treatment on board my own ship, after I had captured you." The Frenchman winced. "How many of your bushwhackers have I killed?" said he. "None at all, sir!" replied the Englishman. "Then, sir, you should be well ashamed of your scurvy fighting. For you have killed six of my brave men and have wounded several with pieces of glass. Pray, when, sir, did the rules of war allow glass to be used as ammunition?" "You lie," cried Captain Walker. "No glass was used by my men." The Frenchman curbed his anger. "Then what was it?" said he. Here a British seaman interrupted. "If it would please your French Majesty," he said, with a bow, "I reckon I know what it was that you took for glass. The captain of one of our stern guns, when he found out that we must surrender, sir, took about sixteen shillings from his pocket, saying: 'Sooner than let these French rascals plunder me of all I've got in the world, I'll see what a bribe can do!' So he wrapped the money up in a bag, sir, crammed it into a gun, and let fly at your deck. Faith, your men were lucky to be struck by good, British coin!" At this all had a good laugh, and the unpleasantness between the French captain and George Walker was at an end. The privateersman was treated with the greatest courtesy and was made as comfortable as could be. The action took place on Friday and the ships were headed for Brest, about three days' sail away. At daybreak on Sunday morning, four large boats were sighted astern, and it did not take long to realize that they were coming up pretty fast _and were flying the English colors_. "Hurray!" shouted Captain Walker. "No French prison for me. Hurray!" The English squadron gained steadily. The boats grew nearer and nearer, while Walker's hopes soared higher and higher. Finally, the French officer, who was in charge of his own boat--the _Mars_--put his helm up and ran to leeward, hoping to draw one of the British vessels after him. He was successful, for a seventy-gun ship made after him, chased him for several miles, and finally re-captured the English privateer. The other ships kept on and drew closer and closer. Seeing that an action would soon take place, the French captain politely requested Walker and his officers to go below. "Messieurs!" said he. "There will soon be a leetle affair in which the balls will fly. You will be better off in the hold, where they cannot reach you so easily as up here." "Sir!" replied the English privateer-captain. "I go below with the greatest of pleasure, for I am now certain of my liberty. Au revoir!" "Do not count your chickens before they hatch!" cried the Frenchman, after his retreating form. The British vessels were the _Hampton Court_ of seventy guns, and the _Sunderland_ and _Dreadnought_ of sixty each; so, being three to two, they should have had a fairly easy victory over the Frenchmen. But the _Sunderland_ lost a spar overboard, and dropped astern; so it left but two to two: an even affair. Alas for gallant Captain Walker! Although the Englishmen came near the two French men-of-war, they hung about without firing a shot; allowed the Frenchmen to sail on unmolested, and thus carry their astonishingly rich treasure into Brest, amid wild and enthusiastic cheering of their crews, and groans of disappointment from the English prisoners. Yet these same prisoners had little cause to complain of their treatment when they arrived at Brest; for they were landed at once, and the captain and officers were liberated on parole. The French also treated them very well and invited the valorous George Walker to many a repast, where they laughed at the narrow shave that he had had from death,--for they had left the _Fleuron_ none too soon. On the day following the landing, Captain Walker was seated in the office of a counting-house, near the dock-end, and was writing a letter to the captain of the _Fleuron_, requesting him to send him his letter-of-credit, which was in a tin box in a cabin of the French man-of-war, when a terrible _Boom!_ sounded upon his ears. A sailor came running past the open window. "The _Fleuron_ has blown up!" he cried. "The _Fleuron_ is a total loss!" Captain Walker dashed into the street; to the end of the quay; and there a sad spectacle greeted his eager gaze. Strewn about upon the surface of the water were broken spars; pieces of sail; and the débris of a once gallant man-of-war. The remnants of the _Fleuron_ were burning brightly. The captain of the French ship came running by. "Helas!" he wailed. "A careless gunner has destroyed my gallant vessel. Helas! Helas!" It was too true. Four or five powder barrels had been left in the magazine for saluting purposes, and quite a little loose powder had been allowed to lie upon the floor. Some careless seamen had gone down into the hold with a decrepit, old lantern. The handle broke, the flame set fire to the loose powder,--and that was the end of the gallant ship _Fleuron_. She burned to the water's edge and then went down to the bottom with a dull, sizzling hiss; while the treasure also disappeared. Later on, divers secured a part of it, but much that was of value was never recovered. Captain Walker did not long grieve over the loss of his letter-of-credit, left on board the ill-starred _Fleuron_, for he was exchanged, after a few weeks, and was sent back to England with his crew. This was in 1745. He lost no time in reporting to the owners of the _Mars_, and so well did they think of him, that in a short while they sent him upon another privateering venture aboard the _Boscawen_, which, as you remember, had run away from the _Mars_, after she had fallen in with the two French men-of-war. Now occurred his greatest sea-fight. The _Boscawen_ had been built in France and had been a prize, taken at sea. She mounted twenty-eight guns (nine-pounders), but Walker added two more, and shipped a crew of three hundred and fourteen men. Without waiting for the _Mars_, the stout sea-dog put out to sea on April 19th, 1745, steering for the shores of France where cruised the prize-laden clipper ships, and the unwelcome men-of-warsmen. The British privateersman cruised about for a whole month without any luck, and, falling in with the privateer _Sheerness_, joined with her in a little run in search of inoffensive merchantmen. At daybreak a cry came from the forward watch,-- "Sails ho! Sails ho! Off the starboard quarter! There're eight o' them an' heading no' east." Both the privateers started in pursuit, but the _Sheerness_ was left far astern, as the _Boscawen_ was a speedy sailer. The latter drew near the eight scudding sail, which suddenly veered about and formed a line, awaiting an attack. The _Sheerness_ was way astern. Would Captain Walker advance? It was eight against one, and there was no certainty what was the armament of the vessels now standing in a row, all ready for action. The faces of the officers on the _Boscawen_ showed anxiety and suspense, but there was no shadow of fear upon the countenance of Captain Walker, who now addressed them in the following words: "Gentlemen, I hope that you do not think the number of prizes before us too many. Be assured, my good friends, that by their being armed, they have something on board of them that is worth defending. I take them to be merchantmen with letters of marque (privateers), and homeward bound. Without doubt we shall meet with some opposition, in which I know that you will exhibit your usual courage. We must conquer these superior numbers by superior skill. Be cool. Be careful that you aim correctly, for, as we shall be pressed on all sides, let every man do his best to engage the enemy that he sees before him. "In a word, Gentlemen, if you will put full confidence in me for leading you on, I will pawn my life upon the fact that I will bring you off victorious." "Hurray! Hurray for Walker!" came the reassuring response. "Then go to your quarters, my hearties! Fight like Britishers of old, and all will be well!" cried the brave mariner. Like a hornet among a group of snap-dragons, the _Boscawen_ now sailed into the centre of the enemy's line. "Do not fire until I give the word!" cried Captain Walker, as the salt spray kicked and splashed about the bow of the on-coming _Boscawen_. "Then hammer away like anvils on a sledge!" Sixty men were ill on board the stout little English privateer, but all save three crawled on deck in order to render what assistance they could in pointing and handling the guns. Now was a glorious fight. _Bang! Crash! Z-i-i-p!_ The French privateers were hammering away as the Englishman approached and their balls cut and tore through the rigging, damaging the mizzen topsail, and splitting a topmast. Steering straight for the largest vessel, Walker waited until he was within close range and then gave the order: "Fire, and hull her if you can." _Poof! Cr-a-a-sh!_ A blinding broadside rolled from the port of the _Boscawen_, and the solid shot bit and tore the stranger like a terrier mouthing a rat. The valiant little privateer was now in the midst of the enemy. Two were to right of her; two to the left of her; one across her bow; and one across her stern. Two of the eight decamped, at this juncture; making the odds six, instead of eight, to one. "_Pow! Pow! Cu-boom!_" The vessel astern was banging away like a Banshee, but a sudden _crash_ from the stern guns so badly damaged her that she hauled off. It was now five to one. "Keep it up, boys!" cried Walker, above the roar and rattle of the fray. "You're doing splendidly. You all deserve statues in the temple of fame." "Huzzah!" shouted his men. "Hurray for the _Boscawen_. Down with the Frenchmen!" "_Cu-pow! Boom! Boom!_" roared the cannon, while the broadsides from the _Boscawen_ were delivered without either confusion or disorder. The five were sparring gamely, but they were lightly armed, with only a few guns to each, so the thirty nine-pounders on board the English privateer were about an equal match for the greater numbers of the foe. Thus the fight raged for an hour, when, suddenly, the ensign upon the mast of the French flagship was seen to flutter to the deck. Ten minutes later a cry arose from a sailor aboard the _Boscawen_: "Look, Captain, she's sinking!" Sure enough, the accurate fire from the British privateer had so riddled the hull of the Frenchman, that she fast filled with water, and sank, stern first, her men escaping in their small boats. "That's one less, anyway," mused Captain Walker. The remaining four continued the fight, but the little privateer was too much for them. Around and around she veered, broadsiding with astonishing accuracy, and knocking the spars about like a foot-ball team kicking a ball. "_Pow! Pow!_" the guns roared, and the men cried, "Remember the oath of our captain! Let's take 'em all!" It began to look as if they would do it, too; for, now upon the starboard quarter appeared the white sails of a vessel, and, as she approached, a joyous cheer arose from the deck of the _Boscawen_, for it was the _Sheerness_. "Now we'll get 'em! Now we'll get 'em!" yelled the British sailors, and they plied their guns with renewed activity and care. Down came the flag upon one of the Frenchmen, and--in a few moments--down came another. Then, as the _Sheerness_ rolled closer, two more ensigns fluttered to the deck. There was but one Frenchman left, and she made off, with the newcomer hot in pursuit. "Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!" The sailors on board the _Boscawen_ were fairly jumping for joy. "Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!" they yelled. And well might they cheer, for had they not won one of the pluckiest sea-fights of all history? The enemy is said to have had one hundred and thirteen killed and drowned, while the casualties of the _Boscawen_ amounted to but one killed and seven wounded. "And this," says an old chronicler of the spirited affair, "was due to the fact that the British privateer had a bulwark of elm-planking, man-high, around her deck. It was so fashioned that there was a step on which the marines could mount and fire, and then come down in order to load. Furthermore, this elm-wood did not splinter; but kept out the bullets, and closed up around the holes made by shot." At any rate, it was a glorious victory, and when--a few hours later--the _Sheerness_ came back with the other French vessel a prize, the total capture amounted to six vessels: homeward bound traders from Martinique, provided with letters of marque, and with about six guns each. Their crews were undoubtedly undisciplined and ill-used to shooting, else how could they have done so badly with the _Boscawen_? The prizes were headed for the English coast and arrived at King's Road, Bristol, in a few days, where a swarm of eager sight-seers crowded about the shattered craft. "My! My!" said many. "This Walker is another Drake. He is a valiant soul!" And so thought the British Admiralty, for they sent him a letter (upon his reporting to them) which read: "We cannot too highly congratulate and commend you upon the seamanship and courage which you have displayed in the capture of these French vessels. Your daring and ability should always make your name one to be revered by those Britishers who follow the sea. May your future career upon the ocean but add to the laurels which you have already won!" And were they not right? Seldom has such a feat been accomplished, and seldom has one vessel come off victorious against such odds. If you love a game warrior, cheer for George Walker, for he deserves it. If you are an admirer of the fighting quality in a man, give three times three for the privateersman who had the nerve to sail into eight vessels,--and won out. So much, indeed, did the British owners of the privateer vessels think of Captain Walker, that he was now placed in command of four ships, known as "The Royal Family of Privateers," for each was named after some member of the English royal family. These were the _Princess Amelia_, of twenty-four guns and one hundred and fifty men: the _Prince Frederick_ of twenty-six guns and two hundred and sixty men: the _Duke_ of twenty guns and two hundred and sixty men; and the _King George_, of thirty-two guns and three hundred men. This last boat was commanded by Walker, himself; the _Duke_ by Edward Dottin, a staunch sailor; the _Prince Frederick_ by Hugh Bromedge; and the _Princess Amelia_ by Robert Denham. The entire squadron carried nearly a thousand men and one hundred and two guns, so, you see, that it could do quite a little damage to the enemies of Merrie England. Sailing in May, 1746, the squadron soon met with hard luck, for the _Prince Frederick_ ran upon a rock in Bristol Channel, and had to be left behind; for she was badly punctured below the water-line. The three others sailed for the coast of France, and--a week later--had a startling little adventure. A heavy fog lay over the sobbing water, and the three English sea-robbers were gliding along within easy gun-shot of each other, when it was evident that they were near some other vessels. Voices came out of the mist, lights flashed (for it was near the close of day), and the wash of water could be heard, as the waves beat against solid oak planking. "Egad!" whispered Captain Walker to one of his lieutenants. "Listen, my boy, and tell me whether these voices are French, Spanish, or English." The lieutenant held a speaking-trumpet to his ear. The _swish_, _swish_ of water came to the eager senses of the anxious privateersman. That was all! Captain Walker passed the word around among his men to be absolutely silent, and, as he strained his hearing, in order to catch the faintest sound from the strangers, suddenly he heard the sentence, "Pressy! Chantez une chanson. Je vais me coucher." (Sing a song, Pressy. I am going to bed.) In a second the gallant Walker knew that, as once before, he was in the midst of some French vessels. "Caught!" he whispered. "And I believe that they're men-of-warsmen! Now we're in a pretty pickle!" His officers scowled. "I know that they're men-o'-warsmen," said one, "for, just now, the fog lifted for a second, and I could make out--by their lights--that they were large gun-ships." Captain Walker looked dejected. "The deuce," said he. But he soon regained his composure. "Put every light out on board," he ordered. "These fellows see us, for I hear them bearing over our way." Sure enough, from the swashing of water and glimmer of lights in the fog, it could be seen that the great lumbering men-of-war were closing in upon the privateer. But the Frenchmen had a human eel to capture and he was equal to the occasion. "Bring up a couple of casks from below!" cried Captain Walker. They were soon on deck. "Now put a lantern in one and lash them together," he continued. "We'll alter our course and skip, while the Frenchies will follow this light." The ruse worked magnificently, and, when morning dawned and the bright sun burned off the fog, the French men-of-war found themselves hovering around a couple of old casks with a lantern tied to the top; while Captain Walker in the _King George_ was scudding along the French coast, many miles away. At which the French captain remarked, "Sapristi! L'oiseau s'est envolé." (Egad! The bird has flown!) Not long after this "The Royal Family of Privateers" took some valuable prizes, and, having chased a small, French merchantman into the bay of Safia, in Morocco, Captain Walker determined to capture her at night, by sending a party against her in the long-boats. A second lieutenant was put in charge of this venture, and, at dark three tenders, crowded with armed seamen and propelled by muffled oars, started after the prize. As they neared the merchantman a hail came through the blackness: "Qui est la?" (Who is there?) No answer was made to this, but the boats kept straight on. _Crash! Bang!_ A gun roared in the faces of the privateers, and shots came falling around them like hail-stones,--but still they kept on. Again _Crash! Crash! Crash!_ The Frenchmen were plying their guns right willingly, but the English sailors could not be stopped, and they neared the vessel under vigorous sweeps of the oars. The lieutenant in command was badly wounded, and was forced to lie in the bottom of his boat, but--in a few moments--the tenders were alongside the merchantman, and the sailors, with a wild yell, were clambering to her deck. There was a fierce hand-to-hand struggle, but nothing would gainsay the rush of the British tars. In twenty minutes the fight was all over and the vessel was towed out of the bay, in triumph, next morning. As she was a smart, little craft she was turned into a privateer in place of the _Prince Frederick_ (which had run aground) and was christened the _Prince George_. The "Royal Family" continued upon its way, made many captures, and--after eight months--put into the harbor of Lisbon with prizes and prize-money amounting to £220,000 (about $1,100,000). So you can see that privateering was a very lucrative trade in those days, when successfully pursued. Not a single man had been killed aboard the little fleet, but many had been severely wounded. The ships were overhauled, refitted, and, being joined by the _Prince Frederick_, amounted to six in number, for the vessel captured in the harbor of Safia had been converted into a full-fledged privateer. Now was to be one of the most gruelling sea-fights in which George Walker ever engaged. In the month of October the squadron was cruising off of Lagos Bay, on the coast of Portugal, when a large sail was sighted at about five in the morning. The _Princess Amelia_ was at anchor in the harbor of Lagos, so Captain Walker sent a small sloop (a recent capture) after her to tell her to "Hurry up and get under way," while he gave signal to the other vessels to chase the stranger at once. All started after the foreigner, who stood to the northward and could be seen to be crowding on all possible canvas. There were four ships in this merry little chase, but two of them--the _Duke_ and the _Prince George_--dropped out, after about an hour's run. They either could not get up, or else their captains grew tired of the affair. On, on, went the other privateers, and--at about noon--Walker drew near the fugitive, in the _King George_. The _Prince Frederick_, with her twenty-six guns, was still some distance away, but Walker kept after the stranger, although he now saw that she was a large vessel,--much more powerful than the _King George_, with her thirty-two guns and three hundred men. He was rapidly nearing the big fellow, when it grew suddenly calm, so that neither could move. At this moment an ejaculation of astonishment burst from the lips of some of the officers aboard the saucy _King George_. "She's a seventy-four!" cried several. "We're in a tight hole!" Sure enough, the pursued hoisted her colors, ran out her guns, and showed herself to be a man-of-warsman carrying seventy-four cannon: over double the amount of armament aboard the plucky _King George_. "I can't make out whether she's Spanish or Portuguese," said Captain Walker, gazing carefully at her drooping flag. The colors hung down in the dead calm, and it was impossible to tell whether they were Spanish or Portuguese; for the two ensigns--at that period--were very similar. The sea-warriors drifted along, eyeing each other, for about an hour, when the stranger ran in her lower deck-guns and closed her port-holes. "She's a treasure ship," cried a sailor. "And she won't fight if she can avoid it!" Walker turned to his officers and asked, "Gentlemen, shall we fight her?" "Aye! Aye!" came from all. "She's afraid of us!" The vessel, in fact, was a treasure ship which had been recently chased by some English men-of-war and had already landed her treasure, to the value of about one million sterling (about $5,000,000). A slight breeze sprang up, at about five in the afternoon, and the big ship kept on her course; the gamey _King George_ following, while the white sails of the _Prince Frederick_ were far astern, as the breeze had not yet struck her. So they swashed along, the Englishmen anxious for a fight, and a chance to overhaul the supposed treasure which the stranger was carrying. At eight o'clock the _King George_ was struck by a favorable puff of wind, and came quite close to the seventy-four. It was time for battle. "What ship is that?" hailed Captain Walker, in the Portuguese tongue. He was cleared for action and his men were all lying down at their quarters. There was no answer to his challenge. "What ship is that?" he asked again; this time in English. A voice came back,--also in English, "And what ship may you be?" "The _King George_." _Crash! B-oo-m!_ A thundering broadside belched from the side of the seventy-four, dismounting two guns on the port side of the _King George_, and bringing the main topsail yard crashing to the deck. It was now bright moonlight, and in its radiance the flag of the stranger was seen to blow straight out, disclosing her nationality to be Spanish. She was the _Glorioso_: a strong and powerful vessel, ably officered and ably manned. She towered above the little _King George_ like a church-spire, and her broadsides now sputtered with great regularity. _Crash! Crash! Crash!_ The sprightly little _King George_ kept after the big warship like a sword-fish chasing a whale. She drew so close that some burning wads from the Spanish guns set fire to her mainsail. Continually hoping that the _Prince Frederick_ would come up, the gallant Walker hammered away at the _Glorioso_ with furious precision, and drove her so near the rocks off Cape Vincent that the castle guns began to play upon the two grappling warriors of the sea. The British sea-captain fought and commanded with "a calmness peculiar to himself" and his example secured order and discipline even in the thickest of the fight, when the mainsail was set on fire. He was magnificent in action. So the unequal struggle kept on. By half-past ten the _King George_ had been so severely damaged aloft that she could not have escaped if she had tried. All the braces were shot away; the foremast was quite disabled; and the mainmast was badly splintered. Battered, torn, and distressed she kept banging away at the great, towering Spaniard; while the big fellow ceased her fire somewhat, and ever now and again let go a broadside, like the blow from the mouth of a huge whale. It sounded like, _Chu-spow!_ [Illustration: ACTION BETWEEN THE "GLORIOSO" AND THE "KING GEORGE" AND "PRINCE FREDERICK" UNDER GEORGE WALKER.] But hurrah! hurrah! The _Prince Frederick_ had at last caught the breeze, and came bouncing by, her little pennons fluttering like so many silk stockings on a clothes-line. "Are you all well?" shouted her commander, as he neared the splintered _King George_. "You look as if you're sinking." Captain Walker came to the rail with the speaking-trumpet in his hand. "One killed and fifteen wounded," he answered. "Now sail after that Spanish villain and take her, in revenge for all the damage that she has done me. She's a treasure ship." "All right," Captain Dottin called back, and he kept on after the _Glorioso_, which was now rapidly drawing away. By the bright moonlight it could be seen that the _Duke_ and the _Prince George_ were also approaching. And, when they came close enough to the maimed and battered _King George_, her captain called to them, "to keep on after the Spaniard, and catch the rascal." They continued on their way, and, at daybreak the three vessels could be seen, through the glass, as they closed in upon the Spanish game-cock from three sides. "She'll be ours before nightfall," said Captain Walker, chuckling. The headmost ship, apparently the _Duke_ under Captain Dottin, could now be seen to hotly engage the _Glorioso_, which greatly displeased the captain of the dismantled _King George_. "Dottin will fire away all of his cartridges," said he, turning to a few of his officers, who clustered around him. "He will shoot them all off at too great a distance, and will afterwards be obliged to load with loose powder, by which some fatal accident is sure to occur. He's a brave fellow, but a rash one!" He had scarcely spoken, when a broadside rang out. Simultaneously, with the discharge of the guns, a pillar of smoke and flame shot high into the air. "Good Heavens, the _Duke_ has blown up!" cried Captain Walker. "Dottin and his brave followers have found a watery grave!" "It is merely the smoke of a broadside," one of the officers interrupted. "No! No!" answered Walker, dejectedly. "It's the last that will ever be seen of noble Dottin and his men!" The smoke now cleared away and no ship was to be seen upon the surface of the water. The _Glorioso_ was still-belching both smoke and flame, and near her were three sails, indistinctly seen through a haze of smoke and fog. Could it not have been the _Duke_, after all? "Vain thought," cried bold Walker, aloud. "Our bravest and best ship has gone to the bottom." This terrible incident had such an effect upon the seamen of the _King George_ that Captain Walker called the officers aside into the companionway, and there made them a speech. "My brave men," said he, "you must keep up an air of cheerfulness before these fellows of ours, for, otherwise they will be backward in fighting, and will not have the courage which we desire. Go among them and show no sign that you are lacking in pleasantry." As he ceased speaking there was a series of sudden explosions, mingled with cries of alarm. "Gad zooks! What's happened!" cried all, rushing to the deck. They found matters in a sorry state, for the crew was in a panic; some clinging outside the ship; some climbing out upon the bowsprit, all ready to jump overboard should the vessel blow up. Captain Walker was astonished. "Why, men!" said he. "What means this confusion?" It was easily explained, for the alarm had been caused by a seaman who stepped upon a number of loaded muskets, which had been covered by a sail. One was fired off accidentally, and this exploded some spare ammunition, set the sail on fire, and completely demoralized the crew; who still were thinking of the sad tragedy which they had just witnessed. Order was quickly restored, the blazing sail was torn down and bucketed, and the terrified sailors came back to their posts. When men have their nerves shattered, it is easy to startle them. But how about the _Glorioso_? The fair-fighting Spaniard was far out of sight, by now, still whanging away at her many enemies, and still proudly flaunting the flag of Arragon in the faces of the British war-dogs, who were snapping and snarling at her like a wolf pack. What became of her was not known for several days, when the poor, battered _King George_ staggered into a sheltering harbor, there to meet with the _Duke_ herself, which was Dottin's good ship,--the one which all had thought to have exploded and sunk. "Hurray!" shouted many. "She's afloat after all!" Eager questioning brought out the fact that it had been the frigate _Dartmouth_ which had exploded; a vessel which had run near the fight in order to see the fun. Some loose powder had set fire to her magazine, and thus she had suffered the same fate as the _Fleuron_, which, as you remember, had blown up, when at anchor in the harbor of Brest. _It's a wise ship that keeps away from a sea battle._ Only seventeen of the crew of this unfortunate craft had been picked up by the boats of the _Prince Frederick_; one of whom was an Irish lieutenant named O'Brien, who was hauled aboard Dottin's vessel, clad only in a night shirt. "Sirrah!" said he, bowing politely. "You must excuse the unfitness of my dress to come aboard a strange ship, but really I left my own in such a hurry that I had no time to stay for a change." He had been blown out of a port-hole! An additional vessel, the _Russel_, had aided in the capture of the powerful _Glorioso_, so it had taken four privateers to down the proud Castilian: the _Duke_, the _Prince George_, the _Prince Frederick_, and the _Russel_. Certainly she had put up a magnificent battle and she had completely crippled the stout little craft sailed by Captain Walker, who was now filled with chagrin and mortification, when he found that the treasure (which he had been sure was in the hold) had been safely landed at Ferrol, before he had sighted this valorous man-of-warsman. It was a great blow both to him and to his men, and, upon arriving at Lisbon he was met by one of the owners of his own vessel, who severely reprimanded him for fighting with such a powerful boat. "Captain Walker," said he, "I fear that your fighting blood is superior to your prudence!" But to this, the game old sea-dog replied, with considerable heat: "Had the treasure been aboard the _Glorioso_, as I expected, my dear sir, your compliment would have been far different. Or had we let her escape from us with the treasure aboard, what would you have said then?" To these sage reflections the owner did not reply. The honesty and courage of this able seaman were never questioned, and the following incident bears good witness to the first quality. Upon one occasion he was sailing for Lisbon in a well-armed privateer, when a couple of East India trading ships offered him £1,000 ($5,000) if he would act as their guard and protect them from the enemy. "Gentlemen," said he to the captain of these vessels, "I shall never take a reward for what I consider it my duty to do without one. I consider it my bounden duty to conduct you both safely into port, for you are both British ships, and I am engaged to fight the enemies of our King." So he convoyed them safely into port and would not take even the smallest present, in recompense for his services. As a fighter he had no superior. War is simply glorified sport and those who are best trained athletically can usually win upon the battle-field. Did not Wellington say, "The battle of Waterloo was won upon the foot-ball grounds of Eton and Harrow?" Which was another way of saying that the boys who had learned to stand punishment upon the athletic field, could take it manfully and well upon the field of battle. Walker believed in athletic exercise and made his sailors continually practice both gunnery and work with the cutlass. They were always in training and always prepared. That is the reason why they won. As you know, if you want to win in athletics you have to train hard and practice daily. If you want to win at warfare you have to do likewise. The most athletic nation is the nation which will win in the long fight, providing that it has sufficient resources and money to carry out a war, once that it has placed its men in the field. It takes a great deal of money to fight a war, but it takes trained men also, and those who are the most fit will win every time. The English are an athletic nation, an island nation, and great numbers of her people have had to follow the sea as a matter of course. Hence England has always had a vast quantity of well-trained seamen at her beck and call. For this reason she has been more successful upon the ocean than many of her neighbors. Will she continue to be? _If she continues to breed men like George Walker there is little reason to doubt that she will always be a winner in sea fighting._ As for this famous mariner, little is known of his later life save that he was once imprisoned for debt, but this was no disgrace in those times and I am sure that he was soon liberated. He died September 20th, 1777, but where he was buried is not known, nor is there any record of his marriage. At any rate he has left the reputation of a brave and valiant seaman who was beloved by his men, feared by his enemies, and appreciated by his contemporaries. "Britannia's glory first from ships arose; To shipping still her power and wealth she owes. Let each experienced Briton then impart, His naval skill to perfect naval art." BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD Their silvered swords are red with rust, Their pluméd heads are bowed; Their haughty banner, trailed in dust, Is now their martial shroud. And plenteous funeral tears have washed The red stains from each brow, And the proud forms, by battle gashed, Are free from anguish now. Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone In deathless song shall tell, When many a vanished age hath flown, The story how ye fell: Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight, Nor Time's remorseless gloom, Shall dim one ray of glory's light That gilds your deathless tomb. [Illustration: From "The Army and Navy of the United States." AMERICAN PRIVATEER TAKING POSSESSION OF A PRIZE.] JOHN PAUL JONES THE FOUNDER OF THE AMERICAN NAVY (1747-1792) "Every generation has its own war. To forget the disagreeable is a characteristic of the human mind."--_The Philosopher._ JOHN PAUL JONES THE FOUNDER OF THE AMERICAN NAVY (1747-1792) "Why! Shiver my bones! It's John Paul Jones! Johnny the Pirate! Johnny should swing! Johnny who hails from Old Scotlant y' know, Johnny who's tryin' to fight our good King. Shiver my Timbers! We'll catch the old fox! _Clew up those top-sails! Ware o' th' shoals!_ _Fire 'cross his bow-lines! Steer for th' rocks!_ _Ease away on the jib-boom; shoot as she rolls!_ "Oh! Johnny, my Johnny, you're slick as can be, But, Johnny, My John, you'll be nipped present-ly." --_Song of the English Privateers._--1794. A French frigate lay in the silvery water off Norfolk, Virginia, and, as she swung quietly upon her anchor chains, a small sloop came bobbing alongside. A hail arose from her stern, where sat a man of about twenty-eight years; of medium stature, strongly built and swarthy. He was dressed in the gray clothing of a Virginian planter. "Hallo," he shouted in very good French. "May I come aboard?" "_Certainement! Certainement!_" cried a French officer, as he neared the rail. "Welcome, Monsieur Jones!" And, as the Virginian farmer scrambled upon the deck, he was greeted most effusively by a handsome nobleman. It was Louis Philippe Joseph, Duke de Chartres; known as "the Sailor Prince of France." The Virginian was John Paul Jones, of "Whitehaven" upon the river Rappahannock. "I bring you delicacies of the season from my garden," said the planter, smiling. "Some for you, and some for the commander--the Commodore de Kersaint. I trust that you will accept them, with my kindest regards. Meanwhile, I beg that you will give me leave to inspect your vessel and obtain information in regard to her plan, construction of the hull, arrangement of the batteries, her spars, her rig and other technical particulars. For, know you, Gentlemen, that war has just commenced between Great Britain and her Colonies and the newly-formed Marine Department of the Government will require a knowledge of ships and their construction. Partly for this I have visited you." Kersaint's face grew sober. "Monsieur Jones," said he, "I have just heard the news from Lexington and I am the senior officer upon this coast. France is at peace with England. The situation for me is a delicate one. I must refuse to allow you to sketch any plans of my vessel." But the young Duke de Chartres looked upon the matter in a different light. "You shall have all the assistance from me that you wish," he cried. "I do not fear the displeasure of England." So the Virginian planter was allowed to obtain the most complete data of the new frigate, even to copies of deck plans and sail spread, which he caused his carpenter to make. John Paul Jones was the guest of the Frenchman for two or three days. "And now you will visit my plantation," said he, when the time came for him to leave. "Is it not so? For there I can repay some of the kindnesses which you have shown me." "That we cannot do," replied the French commander. "It would be most impolitic for us to accept entertainment ashore from persons known to be hostile to King George. But we thank you, exceedingly, for your kind offer." So John Paul Jones proceeded alone to his plantation, and the French warship sailed for Corunna, Spain, after firing one gun as a salute to the new-born nation. The son of a Scotch gardener of Arbigland, Parish of Kirkbean, the youthful farmer had emigrated to America, where his brother owned the large plantation upon which he now resided. He found his kinsman dying of what was then called lung fever--in our time pneumonia--and, as he willed him his Virginian possessions, Jones was soon residing upon "3,000 acres of prime land, on the right bank of the Rappahannock; 1,000 acres cleared and under plough, or grass; with 2,000 acres of strong, first-growth timber." He had a grist-mill; a mansion; overseer's houses; negro quarters; stables; tobacco houses; threshing floors; thirty negroes of all ages; twenty horses and colts; eighty neat cattle and calves; and many sheep and swine. Thus lived the future sea-captain; in peace, plenty, and seclusion, at the outbreak of the American Revolution. John Paul Jones had gone to sea at the early age of twelve. As a master's apprentice upon the stout brig _Friendship_, he had sailed from Scotland to the North American Colonies, the West Indies, and back again. He had kept to his seaman's life, and--so improved in knowledge of his profession--that he became second mate; then first mate; then Captain. At twenty-one he had amassed a fortune of about one thousand guineas ($5,000) in gold,--then equal, in purchasing power, to three times this sum. Besides this he had studied French and Spanish assiduously, so that he could speak the first like a native. It was to be of great help to the ambitious mariner. And he had plenty of nerve, as the following incident bears full witness: Upon one of his many voyages, the crew was reduced, by fever, to five or six hands. One of them was a huge mulatto named Munro--or "Mungo"--Maxwell. They became mutinous, and, as Captain Jones was the only officer who could keep the deck, it was found necessary to subdue the refractory seaman. "Will you obey my orders?" cried Jones, picking up a belaying pin. "You go sit down," cried Maxwell. "I no like you. _Pish!_ I could kill you with one crack." John Paul Jones did not answer, but walking towards the big black, he struck him just one blow with his pin. "Mungo" dropped to the deck and lay there. He never rose again. Upon arriving at port, Captain Jones surrendered to the authorities, and asked for a trial. It was given him. "Captain Paul," asked the Judge, "are you, in conscience, satisfied that you used no more force than was necessary to preserve discipline on your ship?" "May it please the most Honorable Court, Sir," answered the doughty seaman, "it became imperative to strike the mutinous sailor, Maxwell. Whenever it becomes necessary for a commanding officer to hit a seaman, it is also necessary to strike with a weapon. I may say that the necessity to strike carries with it the necessity to kill, or to completely disable the mutineer. I had two brace of loaded pistols in my belt, and could easily have shot him. I struck with a belaying pin in preference, because I hoped that I might subdue him without killing him. But the result proved otherwise. I trust that the Honorable Court and the jury will take due account of the fact that, though amply provided with pistols throwing ounce balls, necessarily fatal weapons, I used a belaying pin, which, though dangerous, is not necessarily a fatal weapon." The judge smiled and Captain Paul was acquitted. The famous Lord Nelson once said: "A naval officer, unlike a military commander, can have no fixed plans. He must always be ready for _the_ chance. It may come to-morrow, or next week, or next year, or never; but he must be _always ready_!" Nunquam non Paratus. (Never unprepared.) Paul Jones kept a copy of this maxim in his head. He was always in training; always on the _qui vive_; always prepared. And--because he was always prepared--he accomplished what would seem to be the impossible. Shortly placed in command of a sloop-of-war, the _Alfred_ (one of the four vessels which constituted the American Navy), Lieutenant Jones assisted in an expedition against Fort Nassau, New Providence Island, in the Bahamas, which was a complete and absolute failure. On the way home, and when passing the end of Long Island, his boat was chased by the twenty-gun sloop-of-war _Glasgow_. The long shot kicked up a lot of spray around the fleet American vessel, but it was of no use. Jones got away and sailed into Newport Harbor, Rhode Island, with sails full of holes and stern-posts peppered with lead. But he was created a Captain; placed in command of the _Providence_--sloop-of-war, fourteen guns and one hundred and seven men--and soon harried the seas in search of fighting and adventure. With him were two faithful negro boys--Cato and Scipio--who followed him through the many vicissitudes of the Revolutionary War. The seas traversed by the _Providence_ were full of English cruisers--superior in size to the saucy American--but inferior in alertness and resources of her commander and her crew. She captured sixteen vessels--of which eight were sent to port and eight were destroyed at sea. Twice she was chased by British frigates, and, on one of these occasions, narrowly escaped capture. As the little sloop was running into one of the many harbors of the coast, a fast-sailing frigate bore down upon her from the starboard quarter. _Whang!_ Her bow-guns spoke and said "Heave to!" But Captain Jones had heard this call before, and kept on upon his course. "She's got me," said he. "But, as the breeze is fresh I may run away. Stand ready, Boys, and let go your tackle immediate, when I give the command!" The helm was now put hard-up and the _Providence_ crept into the wind. Closer and closer came the brig--now her bow-guns sputtered--and a shot ricochetted near the lean prow of the _Providence_. But the sloop kept on. Suddenly--just as the brig drew alongside--Paul Jones swung his rudder over, wore around in the wind, and ran dead to leeward. "Watch her sniffle!" cried the gallant Captain, as the brig _chug-chugged_ on the dancing waves, and, endeavoring to box short about, came up into the wind. But fortune favored the American skipper. Just then a squall struck the Englishman; she lost steering way; and hung upon the waves like a huge rubber ball, while her Captain said things that cannot be printed. When in this condition, Jones ran his boat within half gun-shot, gave her a dose of iron from one of his stern-guns, and--before the frigate could get squared away--was pounding off before the wind, which was the sloop's best point of sailing. "Well," said the crafty John Paul, his face wreathed in smiles. "If the frigate had simply followed my manoeuver of wearing around under easy helm and trimming her sails as the wind bore, I could not have distanced her much in the alteration of the course, and she must have come off the wind very nearly with me, and before I could get out of range. "I do not take to myself too great credit for getting away. I did the best that I could, but there was more luck than sense to it. A good or bad puff of wind foils all kinds of skill one way or the other--and this time when I saw the little squall cat's-pawing to windward--I thought that I would ware ship and see if the Britisher wouldn't get taken aback. The old saying that 'Discretion is the better part of valor' may, I think, be changed to 'Impudence is--or may be, sometimes--the better part of discretion.'" Two kinds of news greeted the slippery sailor when he arrived in port. One was a letter from Thomas Jefferson, enclosing his commission as Captain in the Continental Navy, by Act of Congress. The other--an epistle from his agents in Virginia, informing him that, during the month of July previous, his plantation had been utterly ravaged by an expedition of British and Tories (Virginians who sided with England in the war) under Lord Dunmore. His buildings had all been burned; his wharf demolished; his livestock killed; and every one of his able-bodied slaves of both sexes had been carried off to Jamaica to be sold. The enemy had also destroyed his growing crops; cut down his fruit trees; in short, nothing was left of his once prosperous and valuable plantation but the bare ground. "This is part of the fortunes of war," said Jones. "I accept the extreme animosity displayed by Lord Dunmore as a compliment to the sincerity of my attachment to the cause of liberty." Bold words, well spoken by a bold man! "But," continued the able sailor, "I most sadly deplore the fate of my poor negroes. The plantation was to them a home, not a place of bondage. Their existence was a species of grown-up childhood, not slavery. Now they are torn away and carried off to die under the pestilence and lash of Jamaica cane-fields; and the price of their poor bodies will swell the pockets of English slave-traders. For this cruelty to those innocent, harmless people, I hope sometime, somehow, to find an opportunity to exact a reckoning." Again bold sentiments,--and the reckoning, too, was forthcoming. "I have no fortune left but my sword, and no prospect except that of getting alongside of the enemy," wrote the impoverished sea-captain to a Mr. Hewes. This prospect also was to soon have ample fulfilment. Ordered to take command of the _Alfred_, Captain Jones made a short cruise eastward, in 1776, accompanied by the staunch little _Providence_. The journey lasted only thirty-three days, but, during that time, seven ships of the enemy fell into the clutches of the two American vessels. "Aha!" cried Captain Jones, as he rubbed his hands. "This looks more propitious for our cause. We have taken the _Mellish_ and the _Biddeford_. Let us break into them and see how much of the King's treasure has been secured." And it was indeed good treasure! The _Mellish_ was found to contain ten thousand complete uniforms, including cloaks, boots, socks and woollen shirts, for the winter supply of General Howe's army; seven thousand pairs of blankets; one thousand four hundred tents; six hundred saddles and complete cavalry equipments; one million seven hundred thousand rounds of fixed ammunition (musket cartridges); a large quantity of medical stores; forty cases of surgical instruments; and forty-six soldiers who were recruits sent out to join the various British regiments then serving in the Colonies. The larger prize--the _Biddeford_--carried one thousand seven hundred fur overcoats for the use of the Canadian troops; eleven thousand pairs of blankets, intended partly for the British troops in Canada, and partly for the Indians then in British pay along the northern frontier; one thousand small-bore guns of the type then known as the "Indian-trade smooth-bore," with hatchets, knives, and boxes of flint in proportion, to arm the redskins. There were eight light six-pounder field guns and complete harness and other equipage for the two four-gun batteries of horse-artillery. Also some wines and table supplies for Sir Guy Carleton and a case of fine Galway duelling pistols for a British officer then serving in Canada. "These I will appropriate as mine own portion," cried Captain Jones. "And also a share of the wines, for I must have something to drink the health of mine enemy in." And--so saying--he chuckled gleefully. It had been a rich haul. But the Captain was not happy. His pet project was to cruise in European waters, and he wanted to get near the British coast with a ship--or better--a squadron of some force. "Cruises along the American coast," said he, "will annoy the enemy and result in capture of small ships and consorts from time to time. But who--forsooth--will hear of this in Europe? We will add nothing to our prestige as a new nation if we win victories upon this side of the ocean." All who heard him were much impressed by the vehement earnestness of his arguments. "You have had so much success, Mr. Jones," said they, "that we feel you will have still greater good fortune in future years." And Jones said to himself: "Oh, if I only could get the chance!" It soon came, for on June the 14th, 1777, the Continental Congress passed the following resolution: "_Resolved:_ That Captain John Paul Jones be appointed to command the ship _Ranger_" (a brand-new sloop-of-war which had just been launched at Portsmouth, N. H.). This boat was designed to carry a battery of twenty long six-pounders and was planned expressly for speed. She was one hundred and sixteen feet long, twenty-eight feet in breadth, and her bottom was covered with copper: the first American ship to be thus protected. Captain Jones put fourteen long nine-pounders in her and only four six-pounders, but even then she was top-heavy. In spite of the fact that it was not quite safe to carry full sail, if clearing to windward, close-hauled in squally weather; when running free--before the wind--she could course through the water like a jack-rabbit. In outward appearance she was a perfect beauty, and, as she was rather low in the water for her length, and her masts raked two or three degrees more than any other ship of the day, she was--on the whole--the sauciest craft afloat. Jones was delighted. "I have the best crew I have ever seen," said he. "I believe it is the best in the world. They are nearly all native Americans, and the proportion of able seamen to the total is much beyond the average. I'm going to make one or two short runs off the coast--a day or two at a time--to shake down the sails and find the best trim of the ship. Then away to the shores of England and France!" He waited impatiently for orders to proceed across the blue Atlantic. On October the 18th, 1777, a courier raced frantically into Portsmouth, crying, "Burgoyne has surrendered! Burgoyne has surrendered!" And Jones' impatience to be off increased ten-fold. There were no details of the American victory, for the courier had reached the sleepy New England town from the field of Stillwater, in about thirty hours, and it was one hundred and forty-seven miles--as the crow flies--or, about one hundred and seventy-five by the shortest road. He had stopped only long enough to saddle a fresh horse and shift his saddle, eating his meals in the stirrups, and never thinking of rest until he had shouted his tidings for three full days. The patriot country was wild with enthusiasm. "I will spread the news in France in thirty days," said Jones, when his dispatches were placed in his hands, about midnight of October the thirty-first. And, running by the whirling eddies of "Pull-and-be-damned" Point, he soon had the _Ranger_ clear of the low-lying Isle of Shoals: the sea cross and choppy, but the good ship bowling along before a fresh gale of wind. "I had sailed with many Captains," writes Elijah Hall, second Lieutenant of the staunch, little vessel, "but I never had seen a ship crowded as Captain Jones drove the _Ranger_. The wind held northeasterly and fresh 'til we cleared Sable Island and began to draw on to the Banks. Then it came northeast and east-northeast with many snow squalls, and thick of nights." Imagine the situation of the _Ranger_'s crew, with a top-heavy, cranky ship under their feet, and a Commander who day and night insisted on every rag she could stagger under, without laying clear down! As it was, she came close to beam-ends more than once, and on one occasion righted only by letting-fly her sheets cut with hatchets. During all this trying work Captain Jones was his own navigating officer, keeping the deck eighteen or twenty hours out of the twenty-four; often serving extra grog to the men with his own hands; and, by his example, silencing all disposition to grumble. In the worst of it, the watch and watch was lap-watched, so that the men would be eight hours on to four off; but no one complained. It speaks well alike for commander and crew that not a man was punished or even severely reprimanded during the terrific voyage. But Captain Jones made good his boast. He actually did land at Nantes--upon the coast of France--early in the morning of December second, 1777, thirty-two days out from Portsmouth. His crew were jubilant, and sang a song which ran: "So now we had him hard and fast, Burgoyne laid down his arms at last, And that is why we brave the blast, To carry the news to London! Heigh-ho! Carry the News! Go! Go! Carry the News! Tell old King George that he's undone! He's licked by the Yankee squirrel gun. Go! Go! Carry the news to London!" And Captain John made haste to proceed to Paris, placing the dispatches in the hands of Dr. Franklin early upon the fifth day of December,--travelling two hundred and twenty miles in sixty hours. He returned to his ship about the middle of the month, to find that several of the crew were mutinous. "See here, Captain," said one--a seaman from Portsmouth, New Hampshire--"Me and my pals enlisted at home after readin' a hand-bill which said that we wuz to get $40.00 apiece extra, for this cruise. Now, your young Lieutenant tells us that the reg'lations of Congress say that we are to only get th' reg'lar salary allotted by those old pals, who make our laws. We came with you thinkin' that we wuz ter git this money, and, by gum, we intend to git it!" "Calm yourself, my good fellow," said Jones soothingly. "If the hand-bill said that you were to receive $40.00 you shall have it. You shall get this sum even if I have to pay it myself." And this he did. "I would not deceive any man who has entered or may enter, to serve in my command," remarked John Paul Jones. "I consider myself as being under a personal obligation to these brave men, who have cheerfully enlisted to serve with me, and I accept their act as a proof of their good opinion of me, which I value so highly, that I cannot permit it to be dampened in the least degree, by misunderstanding, or failure to perform engagements. I wish all my men to be happy and contented. The conditions of the hand-bills will be strictly complied with." Accordingly he disbursed one hundred and forty-seven guineas (about $800.00) out of his own pocket, in making good the terms of the hand-bill. Is it any wonder that the gallant seaman was popular with his followers? But the _Ranger_ lay at Brest--eager for action--her light sails furled; her spars shining with new varnish; her polished guns winking in the rays of the sun. "Come, my Hearties!" cried Captain Jones on April the 10th, "we'll hie us out to the west coast of Ireland and see if our new ship cannot make a good name for herself." Sails were hoisted upon the staunch, little vessel. Her bow was turned toward the ocean--and--with the new flag of the infant republic fluttering from her masts, the _Ranger_ went forth for battle, for plunder, and for glory. She was to get a little of each. Arriving off the coast of Cumberland, and, learning from fishermen decoyed on board, that there was a large amount of shipping in the harbor of Whitehaven, with no warship of superior force in the neighborhood to protect it, the bold American skipper resolved to make a dash into this quiet cove, with a view of destroying the ships there in port. The British authorities had no suspicion of his presence in the Irish Sea. As the _Ranger_ drew near to Whitehaven, the wind blew such a gale from the southwest, that it was impossible to land a boat. "We must hold off until the breeze slackens!" cried bold Captain Jones. "This cannot last forever, and our opportunity will soon be here." Sure enough--the wind died out about midnight of April 22nd--and the _Ranger_ beat up towards the town. When about five hundred yards from the shore, the vessel was hove to--two boats were lowered--and twenty-nine seamen, with third Lieutenant Wallingford, Midshipmen Arthur Green and Charles Hill, jumped into them. With Jones in command they hastened toward the coast. The surprise was complete. Two small forts lay at the mouth of the harbor, but, as the seamen scrambled ashore, they were precipitately abandoned by the garrison of "coast-guards." Captain Jones, Midshipman Green, and six men rushed shouting upon one of these, capturing it without an effort; the other was taken by Lieutenant Wallingford and eight sailors,--while four were left behind as a boat-guard. A few pistols spattered, a few muskets rang; but, when the stout sea-dogs reached the tidal basin, where the shipping lay, the townsfolk were thoroughly aroused. Burning cotton was thrown on board of the ships lying at anchor, but only one took fire. It was full daylight, and the insignificance of Jones' force became evident to the townsfolk, who were rallying from all directions. "Retreat to the ships," shouted the Yankee Captain, "there is no time to lose!" The landing party--small as it was--had become separated into two groups; one commanded by Jones, the other by Wallingford. Thinking that Wallingford's party was, for the moment, more seriously menaced than his own, Jones attacked and dispersed--with his dozen men--a force of about one hundred of the local militia who were endeavoring to retake the lower fort, or battery, whose guns had been spiked by the Americans. The townsfolk and coast-guards had joined and were making a vigorous assault upon Wallingford. But shots flew thick and fast from the muskets of the followers of the daring Paul Jones--as they retreated to their own boats. The whole landing party--with the exception of one man--finally leaped safely into the boat, and were on board the _Ranger_ before the sun was an hour over the horizon. Jones was delighted. "The actual results of this affair," said he, "are of little moment, as we destroyed but one ship. The moral effect--however--is very great, as it has taught the English that the fancied security of their coasts is a Myth." In fact this little raid of the valiant John Paul made the Government take expensive measures for the defense of numerous ports hitherto relying for protection upon the vigilance and supposed omnipotence of the navy. It also doubled the rates of marine insurance; which was the most grievous damage of all. "Now to attack a castle!" cried Jones, "and bag an Earl, too, if he is around!" The _Ranger_ was headed for Solway Firth--not more than three hours' sail away--where, upon St. Mary's Isle, was the castle of the Earl of Selkirk. "If we can catch the noble owner of this keep," said John Paul, "we will hold him as hostage for the better treatment of American prisoners in England." As luck would have it, the Earl was away at this particular time, and, although the wild sea-dogs of the _Ranger_ carried off several pieces of silverware from the castle, this was all that was captured. Lucky Earl! But, had he fallen into the clutches of John Paul, he would have been treated with the greatest consideration, for the Captain of the _Ranger_ was the most chivalrous of conquerors. The _Ranger_ stood across the Irish Channel and next day ran into some fisher boats. "Ah! Ha!" laughed one of the sons of Ireland. "The _Drake_--the guard-ship at Carrickfergus--is after you, and she's a twenty-gun sloop-of-war." John Paul smiled. "To lessen trouble," said he, "I'll heave-to off the mouth of Belfast Lough and wait for her to work out. This will save her the pains of coming after me." So he luffed his ship, lay to, and waited for the _Drake_ to sail on. Her white sails could be seen more clearly as she neared the adventurous American. A boat was sent out to reconnoitre--but--as it approached, it was surrounded by tenders from the _Ranger_; a midshipman and five men in her, were made prisoners. Tide and wind were both against the _Drake_; she came on slowly; and, at an hour before sundown, was just within hail. The sea was fairly smooth, the wind southerly and very light. "What ship is that?" sounded from the deck of the _Drake_. "The American Continental ship _Ranger_," rang the clear reply. "Lay on! We are waiting for you!" Both ships bore away before the wind and neared each other to within striking distance. _Boom!_ a broadside roared from the side of the _Drake_, and the fight had begun. _Crash! Crash!_ Muskets spoke from the rigging of the _Ranger_, where several seamen had climbed in the endeavor to pick off the gunners on the deck of the British warship. There were one hundred and fifty-seven men upon the _Drake_; Paul Jones had one hundred and twenty-six. The _Drake_'s battery was sixteen nine-pounders and four sixes. Thus--you see--the advantage was clearly with the Britishers. Both boats swung along under full canvas, pounding away at each other like prize-fighters. Spars were shattered; sails ripped; masts splintered in the hail of iron. And--as the fight progressed--it could be plainly seen that the marksmanship of those upon the _Drake_ was infinitely less accurate than that of the Americans. "Every shot of our men told," said Jones--not long afterwards. "They gave the _Drake_ three broadsides for two, right along, at that. The behavior of my crew in this engagement more than justifies the representations I have often made, of what American sailors would do, if given a chance at the enemy in his own waters. We have seen that they fight with courage on our own coast--but fought here, almost in hail of the enemy's shore." [Illustration: From "The Army and Navy of the United States." "BEGAN TO HULL THE 'DRAKE' BELOW THE WATER-LINE."] As the two ships were going off the wind, which was light, they both rolled considerably, and together; that is, when the _Ranger_ went down to port, the _Drake_ came up to starboard. The gunners upon the quarter-deck of the _Ranger_ timed their guns, so that they were fired as their muzzles went down and the enemy's side arose. By this practice they began to hull the _Drake_ below the water-line. "Sink the English! Sink the English!" cried the powder-blackened fighters. But Captain Jones thought differently. "Don't sink her!" he yelled to gunner Starbuck, above the din of battle. "I want to take her alive, instead of destroying her; for it will be much more to our advantage if we carry her as a visible prize into a French port." "All right, Cap'n!" shouted his men. "We'll cripple her aloft!" They now fired as the muzzles rose, and, so terrific were their broadsides, that the fore and main topsail-yards came tumbling across the starboard quarter, in a tangle of ropes, sails, and rigging. "Rake her! Rake her!" shouted Jones to his men. The _Ranger_ luffed and crossed the stern of the _Drake_ with the purpose of spanking a full broadside down her decks. The British boat was badly crippled and had lost steering way. But, before the well-aimed guns belched another destructive volley into the shattered Englishman, a white flag went aloft, and a voice came: "Hold your fire. We surrender!" The _Drake_ was a prisoner-of-war. Thus Paul Jones had won a notable victory, and thus he had proved that the British were not invincible, and could be defeated, upon the sea, by their own cousins, as readily as upon the land. When the _Ranger_ lay in the harbor of Brest, a few days later, with the _Drake_ alongside, boats crowded about in order to view the vessel which had captured another,--larger than herself. And, as the _Ranger_ had taken three merchant ships on the way to the coast of France, the black eyes of the natives shone with beady lustre as they gazed upon the graceful hull of the victorious sloop-of-war from Portsmouth, New Hampshire. "See Monsieur Jones," said they, as they nudged each other. "Voilà! Here is a man who is better than our own sailors. Look at this American sea-devil!" And the chest of John Paul Jones swelled with pride. Eager and active, the gallant Commodore was most unhappy during the next few months, for the _Ranger_ was ordered back to America--under his Lieutenant Simpson. Twenty-seven of his crew, however, elected to remain and fight with him, when he should get another command,--among them a little Narragansett Indian called Antony Jeremiah. "Me like to see big gun shoot," said he. "Me like to walk on deck of enemy's big boat when you take it! Byme-by we take bigger ship than _Drake_ and kill heap more enemy! Ugh! Ugh!" At this John Paul laughed. "Antony Jeremiah," said he, "you shall witness one big fight if you stay with John Paul. You wait and see!" And what John Paul had said soon came to pass. "The French," writes the doughty warrior, "have little conception of an expedition such as I propose; to harry the coast and destroy the commerce of the enemy. Their idea is to leave all of that to privateers, of which I have already been offered a dozen commands. Some of the ships they fit out as privateers are really respectable frigates in size, and I have seen one, called the _Monsieur_, that mounts thirty-eight or forty guns. But I do not wish to engage in privateering. My object is not that of private gain, but to serve the public in a way that may reflect credit on our infant navy and give prestige to our country over the sea." Noble sentiments--nobly expressed! In spite of the gloomy outlook he at last secured a vessel from the King himself, called the _Duras_, which he re-christened "_Le Bon Homme Richard_"--"_The Good Richard_"--the name assumed by Dr. Benjamin Franklin when writing his famous "Almanack," except that he called him "Poor Richard." This was a well-merited compliment to the great and good man, who was then Commissioner from the United States to France, and a firm friend to the ardent John Paul. The vessel had forty guns, "and," writes the Minister of Marine, "as you may find too much difficulty in enlisting a sufficient number of Americans, the King permits you to levy French volunteers, until you obtain a full crew." John Paul hastened to get her ready for a cruise. "I mounted twenty-eight long twelve-pounders on the gun-deck," he says, "put eight of the long nines on the quarter-deck, and discarded the six-pounders of her old battery. This gave her a battery of forty-two guns, throwing two hundred and fifty-eight pounds of metal in a single broadside. She was the fair equivalent of a thirty-six gun frigate." From February to June she was worked over; refitted; resparred. On June 19th, 1779, the gallant John Paul Jones swung out into the English Channel; he, himself, in command of the _Good Richard_, which carried a crew of three hundred and seventy-five, not more than fifty of whom were Americans. Four other vessels were with him: the _Alliance_, a thirty-two gun frigate; the _Pallas_, a twenty-eight gun frigate; the _Vengeance_, a twelve gun brig; and the _Cerf_, a cutter. On the second day out the _Alliance_ fouled the _Richard_, causing so much damage to both, that the squadron was compelled to return to port for repairs, which--with other transactions--consumed six weeks. But the accident was a lucky one, for numerous American sailors, who were in English prisons, were shortly exchanged with English seamen in French dungeons; and thus Paul Jones was able to man the _Good Richard_ with one hundred and fourteen native Americans, who were anxious to have a crack at those who had captured them but a short time before. Finally, with refitted ships and reorganized crews, Paul Jones was ready to sail from the roadstead of Isle de Groaix, in the early part of August, 1779, bound upon his cruise around the British Islands. There were four ships in this squadron: the _Good Richard_; the _Alliance_, under Pierre Landais (a depraved and dishonest Frenchman); the _Pallas_, under Cottineau (an honest Frenchman); and the _Vengeance_, a sloop-of-war. The prevailing winds were light and baffling, so the squadron moved slowly. War had been declared between France and England, and thus the English Channel was thronged with privateers from both countries. The _Richard_ and a French privateer, in company, re-captured a large ship belonging to Holland, but bound from Barcelona to Dunkirk, France, which had been taken some days before by an English vessel off Cape Ortegal and ordered into Falmouth, England. England and Holland were still at peace, at this time, but the English claimed the right to intercept and send into their own port for examination, all neutral vessels bound to French ports, as England and France were then at war. Commodore Jones took the English prize-crew out of the Dutch ship, as prisoners of war, and then ordered the ship into l'Orient in charge of her own crew, but under the command of one of his midshipmen, until she could come under the protection of a French port. "Things are going well with us!" cried Captain Jones, rubbing his hands gleefully. He soon felt much happier. For, on the morning of August 23rd, when in the vicinity of Cape Clear, the _Richard_ sent three boats, and afterwards a fourth, to take a brig that was becalmed in the northwest quarter--just out of gun-shot. It proved to be the _Fortune_, of Bristol, bound from Newfoundland for her home-port with whale-oil, salt fish, and barrel staves. Manned by a prize-crew of two warrant officers and six men, she was sent to Nantes. All were happy. All were looking forward to a good fight. It was to come to them. The little fleet of war-dogs sailed northward, and, on September 1st, about ten o'clock in the morning, the northwest promontory of Scotland was sighted. At the same instant, two large ships bore in sight on the same quarter, and another vessel appeared to windward. "Bear up! Bear up!" cried Jones. The _Richard_ held over toward the first two ships until he saw that it was the _Alliance_ and a prize she had taken about daylight,--a vessel bound for Jamaica, from London. "Now chase the other fellow!" he cried, turning the wheel with his own hands, and soon the _Good Richard_ was bounding over the waves in hard pursuit of the second sail. Slowly but surely she was overhauled. Heavily armed, she did not surrender until after the exchange of several shots, which the _Richard_ pumped into her, after running up close enough to show her broadside. A boat soon carried a number of seamen to take possession of her, and she proved to be the British privateer, the _Union_, mounting twenty-two six-pounders, and bound northward from London to Quebec, in Canada, laden with a cargo of naval and military stores for the British troops and flotillas on the Lakes. The _Union_ also carried a valuable mail, including dispatches for Sir William Howe, in New York, and Sir Guy Carleton, in Canada. "These were lost," writes John Paul to good Doctor Franklin, at Paris, for the _Alliance_ imprudently showed American colors, though English colors were still flying on the _Bon Homme Richard_; "the enemy thereby being induced to throw his papers of importance overboard before we could take possession of him." The prizes were manned from the _Alliance_ and sent (by Landais) into the seaport of Bergen, in Norway. The squadron now beat down the east coast of Scotland, and, after capturing five or six small prizes, rounded-to off the Firth of Forth. "I intend to attack the port of Leith!" cried Jones, "as I understand that it is defended only by a small guard-ship of twenty-two guns, and an old fortification (old Leith Fort) garrisoned by a detachment of Militia." The wind was adverse, blowing off shore, with frequent heavy squalls, but about noon of the 17th of September, the _Richard_ and the _Pallas_ beat up within gun-shot of Leith Fort and were lowering away their tenders in order to land, when a heavy Northwest gale sprang up, compelling them to hoist their boats, and put to sea. The gale lasted about twenty-four hours, but, on the morning of the 19th, the wind took another turn, the sea grew calm, and Jones proposed to renew the attack upon Leith. The Commander of the _Pallas_ made strong objection to this. "I do not believe that we should stay here," cried he. "If we persist in the attempt to remain on this station three days longer, we shall have a squadron of heavy frigates, if not a ship of line, to deal with. Convinced of this, I offer it as my judgment that we had better work along the shore to-day and to-morrow, as far as Spurn Head, and then, if we do not fall in with the Baltic merchant fleet, stand off the coast and make the best of our way to Dunkirk." Commodore Jones spent a few moments in reflection. "You are probably right, Cottineau," said he. "I only wish that another man like you were in command of the _Alliance_. However, we cannot help what is and must make the best of it. Go aboard your ship and make sail to the south-southwest. Speak the _Vengeance_ as you run down, and tell Ricot--her commander--to rendezvous off Spurn Head. I will bring up the rear with this ship. We may fall in with the Baltic fleet between here and Scarboro', which is usually their first English port of destination at this time of the year. Should you happen to sight the _Alliance_, inform Captain Landais of our destination, but do not communicate it to him as an order, because that would be likely to expose you only to insult." The two ships turned South, and the next three days were without events of importance. At length they neared the harbor of Scarboro', and, as they hovered about twelve miles off the land, they saw some vessels making for the shore, and protecting a fleet of merchantmen. "They're a heavy man-of-war--either a fifty-gun frigate, or a fifty-four--with a large ship-of-war in company," cried one of his Lieutenants, who had been watching them through a glass. "The Captain of the larger one has cleverly manoeuvered to protect his merchant ship." Commodore Jones seemed to be much pleased. "At last we'll have a little fight," cried he. "Bear hard for the land, and get between the larger vessel and the shore!" Captain Cottineau was signalled to and requested to go after the sloop-of-war. About sundown the _Richard_ succeeded in weathering the large frigate and manoeuvered between her and the land. The ships neared each other very gradually, for the breeze was slight. They were on opposite tacks and Commodore Jones readily made out the force and rate of his antagonist. By the light of the dying day--for it was about seven P. M.--he saw that she was a new forty-four; a perfect beauty. It was the _Serapis_--Captain Richard Pearson commanding--but six months off the stocks and on her first cruise as a convoy to the Baltic fleet of merchantmen: consisting of about forty vessels laden with timber and other naval stores for the use of the British dockyards. Jones had hoped to have an opportunity to attack this flotilla, but his plans had been frustrated by the vigilance and skill of the commander of the men-of-war in convoy. Even now Landais might have got among the merchantmen in the fast-sailing _Alliance_, while Jones and Cottineau occupied the attention of the two men-of-war; but the French officer did not have sufficient courage to tackle them, and kept well beyond striking distance. The Captain of the _Serapis_ stood upon the deck, intently gazing at the on-coming vessel. "Gad Zooks!" he uttered. "From the size of her spars and her height out of water I take her to be a French fifty of the time of the last war. It's too dark for me to see whether she has any lower ports or not." He raised his night glasses to his eyes, and, in the light of the full moon which was now flooding the sea with a silvery haze, saw that his opponent was intent upon a fight. "It is probably Paul Jones," said he, lowering the glasses. "If so--there's tight work ahead. What ship is that?" he cried out in loud tones. No answer came from the dark hull of the _Good Richard_, but, as she swung nearer upon the rolling waves, suddenly a flash, a roar, and a sheet of flame belched from her side. The battle was on! It was a struggle which has been talked of for years. It was a battle about which the world never seems to tire of reading. It was _the_ battle which has made the name of John Paul Jones nautically immortal. The two warriors of the deep were on the same tack, headed northwest, driven by a slight wind which veered to the westward. The sea was smooth, the sky was clear, the full moon was rising--the conditions for a night struggle were ideal. _Crash! Crash! Crash!_ Broadside after broadside rolled and shrieked from ship to ship, as the air was filled with flying bits of iron. _Crash! Crash! Crash!_ Travelling very slowly, for the wind was little more than sufficient to give them steering-way in the tide, the two antagonists drifted along for twenty minutes, at cable length (600 to 900 feet--about the distance of the 220 yard dash). But suddenly--_Boom!_ an explosion sounded in the gun-room of the _Good Richard_. Two of her eighteen-pounders had blown up back of the trunnions; many of the crew lay dead and dying, the after part of the main gun-deck was shattered like a reed: Senior Midshipman and Acting Lieutenant John Mayrant--who had command of this battery--was severely wounded in the head by a fragment of one of the exploded shells, and was scorched by the blast of flame. "Abandon your guns!" shouted First Lieutenant Dale, "and report with your remaining men to the main-deck battery!" "All right!" answered Mayrant, as he bound a white kerchief around his bleeding head. "I'll be with you just as soon as I give them one more shot." This he endeavored to do, but not a gun could be touched off. "The old sixteen-pounders that formed the battery of the lower gun-deck, did no service whatever, except firing eight shots in all," writes John Paul Jones. "Two out of three of them burst at the first fire, killing almost all the men who were stationed to manage them." The gunnery of the _Good Richard_ was excellent. Though her battery was one-third lighter than that of the _Serapis_; though her gun-crews were composed--to a great extent--of French volunteers, who had never been at sea before--in quickness and rapidity of fire, the shells from the American fell just as accurately as did those from the Britisher; pointed and gauged by regular, trained English men-of-war seamen. The roar of belching cannon was deafening. The superior weight and energy of the British shot began to tell decisively against the sputtering twelve-pounders of the _Richard_, in spite of the fact that they were being served with quickness and precision. As the two battling sea-monsters drifted slowly along, a pall of sulphurous smoke hung over their black hulls, like a sheet of escaping steam. They were drawing nearer and nearer to each other. It was now about a quarter to eight. Wounded and dying littered the decks of both Britisher and American, but the fight was to the death. "Luff! Luff!" cried Captain Pearson, as the _Richard_ began to forge near him. "Luff! Luff! and let fly with all guns at the water-line. Sink the Yankee Pirate!" But Paul Jones was intent upon grappling with his adversary. Quickly jerking the tiller to one side, he shoved the _Richard_ into the wind and endeavored to run her--bows on--into the side of his opponent. The _Serapis_ paid off, her stern swung to, and, before she could gather way, the _Richard_'s jib-boom shot over her larboard quarter and into the mizzen rigging. Jones was delighted. "Throw out the grappling hooks!" cried he, in shrill tones. "Hold tight to the Britisher and be prepared to board!" In an instant, many clawing irons spun out into the mizzen stays of the _Serapis_; but, though they caught, the lines holding them soon parted. The _Serapis_ fell off and the _Richard_ lurched ahead. Neither had been able to bring her broadsides to bear. "We can't beat her by broadsiding," cried Jones. "We've _got_ to board!" _Crash! Crash! Crash!_ Again the cannon made the splinters fly. Again the two game-cocks spat at each other like angry cats, but, the fire from the _Richard_ was far weaker than before. Commodore Jones walked hastily to the gun-deck. "Dick," said he to Lieutenant Dale, "this fellow's metal is too heavy for us at this business. He is hammering us all to pieces. We must close with him! We must get hold of him! Be prepared at any moment to abandon this place and bring what men you have left on the spar-deck--and give them the small arms for boarding when you come up." Lieutenant Dale saluted. "All right!" cried he. "I'll be with you in a jiffy, Commodore." As Jones walked hastily to the main deck--the Lieutenant ran to the store-room and dealt out cutlasses, pistols and pikes, to the eager men. The deck was red with blood. The worst carnage of all was at "number two" gun of the forward, starboard division. From the first broadside until the quarter-deck was abandoned, nineteen different men were on this gun, and, at this time, only one of the original crew remained. It was the little Indian, Antony Jeremiah; or, as his mates called him, "Red Cherry." "Let me join you," he cried, as he saw Mayrant's boarding party. Seizing a cutlass and dirk, he stood beside the cluster of men, eager and keen to have a chance at the enemy. A soul of fire was that of the little savage--and now he had a splendid opportunity to indulge in the natural blood-thirst of his race, for an Indian loves a good fight, particularly when he is upon the winning side. The vessels swung on slowly--the fire from the _Serapis_ still strong and accurate; the sputtering volleys from the _Richard_ growing weaker and weaker. Only three of the nine-pounders on the starboard quarter-deck were serviceable; the entire gun-deck battery was silent and abandoned. "We have him," cheerfully cried Captain Pearson to one of his aides. "But, hello"--he continued, "what sail is that?" As he spoke the _Alliance_ came bounding across the waves, headed for the two combatants, and looking as if she were to speedily close the struggle. "The fight is at an end," said Jones, jubilantly. Imagine his astonishment, chagrin, and mortification! Instead of pounding the English vessel, the French ally discharged a broadside full into the stern of the _Richard_, ran off to the northward, close hauled, and soon was beyond gun-shot. "Coward!" shouted John Paul, shaking his fist at the retreating ally. "I'll get even with you for this if it takes me twenty years!" No wonder he was angered, for, with his main battery completely silenced, his ship beginning to sink, nearly half his crew disabled, his wheel shot away, and his consort firing into him, there remained but one chance of victory for John Paul Jones: to foul the enemy and board her. Luckily a spare tiller had been fitted to the rudder stem of the _Richard_ below the main tiller--before leaving port--because of the fear that the wheel would be disabled. The foresight of the Commodore had effected this; and now--by means of this extra steering-gear--the battered warrior-ship was enabled to make one, last, desperate lunge for victory. It was touch and go with John Paul Jones. "I could distinctly hear his voice amid the crashing of musketry," says a seaman. "He was cheering on the French marines in their own tongue, uttering such imprecations upon the enemy as I have never before or since heard in French, or any other language. He exhorted them to take good aim, pointed out the object of their fire, and frequently took their loaded muskets from their hands in order to shoot them himself. In fact, towards the very last, he had about him a group of half a dozen marines who did nothing but load their firelocks and hand them to the Commodore; who fired them from his own shoulder, standing on the quarter-deck rail by the main topmast backstay." Luck now came to the disabled _Richard_. A fortunate puff of wind struck and filled her sails, shooting her alongside of the growling _Serapis_, and to windward. The canvas of the Britisher flapped uselessly against her spars. She was blanketed and lost steering-way. In a moment the jib-boom of the English vessel ran over the poop-deck of the American ship. It was seized, grappled by a turn of small hawsers, and made fast to the mizzen-mast. "She's ours!" cried John Paul Jones. "Seize that anchor and splice it down hard!" As he spoke, the fluke of the starboard anchor of the _Serapis_ hooked in the mizzen chains. It was lashed fast, and the _Richard_ had been saved. _Rattle! Rattle! Crash!_ sounded the muskets of the French marines. The English tried to cut their anchor chains and get free, but all who attempted to sever these hawsers were struck dead by the accurate balls from the marksmen on the poop-deck and round-house of the _Richard_. "I demand your surrender!" shouted Pearson. [Illustration: From an old print. "THEY SWARMED INTO THE FORECASTLE AMIDST FIERCE CHEERS."] "Surrender?" cried John Paul Jones. "Why, I am just beginning to fight!" Then he turned to John Mayrant, who stood ready to rush across the hammock-nettings into the waist of the enemy's ship. Twenty-seven sailors were nearby, each with a cutlass and two ship's pistols. "Board 'em!" he cried. Over the rail went the seamen--monkey-wise--over the rail, John Mayrant leading with a dirk in his teeth, like a Bermuda pirate. They swarmed into the forecastle amidst fierce cheers, the rattle of musketry, and the hiss of flames. Just at the moment that John Mayrant's feet struck the enemy's deck, a sailor thrust a boarding-pike through the fleshy part of his right thigh. _Crack!_ a pistol spat at him, and he fell prostrate. "Remember Portsea jail! Remember Portsea jail!" cried the dauntless raider, rushing down into the forecastle with his wild, yelping sailors. Pearson stood there; crest-fallen--abashed. Seizing the ensign-halyards of the _Serapis_, as the raging torrent of seamen rolled towards him, the brave English sea-captain hauled the flag of his ship to the deck. The _Richard_ had won! "He has struck; stop firing! Come on board and take possession!" yelled Mayrant, running to the rail. Lieutenant Dale heard him, and, swinging himself on the side of the _Serapis_, made his way to the quarter-deck, where Captain Pearson was standing. "I have the honor, sir, to be the first Lieutenant of the vessel alongside," said he saluting. "It is the American Continental ship _Bon Homme Richard_, under command of Commodore Paul Jones. What vessel is this?" "His Britannic Majesty's late man-of-war the _Serapis_, sir," was the sad response, "and I am Captain Richard Pearson." "Pardon me, sir," said the American officer, "in the haste of the moment I forgot to inform you that my name is Richard Dale and I must request you to pass on board the vessel alongside." Pearson nodded dejectedly. As he did so, the first Lieutenant of the _Serapis_ came up from below, and, looking at Captain Pearson, asked, "Has the enemy struck, sir?" "No, sir! _I_ have struck!" was the sad reply. "Then, I will go below and order our men to cease firing," continued the English Lieutenant. But Lieutenant Dale interrupted. "Pardon me, sir," said he, "I will attend to that; and, as for yourself, please accompany Captain Pearson on board the ship alongside." With reluctant steps the two officers clambered aboard the battered _Good Richard_, where Commodore Jones received them with much courtesy. Bowing low, Captain Pearson offered him his sword. His first Lieutenant did likewise. "Captain Pearson," said the victorious John Paul, "you have fought heroically. You have worn this weapon to your own credit and to the honor of your service. I hope that your sovereign will suitably reward you." The British commander was the image of chagrin and despair. He bowed again, and then walked slowly into the cabin, followed by his crest-fallen Lieutenant. It was nearly midnight. The full moon above--in a cloudless sky--made it almost as light as day. Seven feet of water were in the hold of the _Richard_; she had sunk so much that many shot-holes were below the water-line and could not be plugged. Nearly sixty of her crew lay dead upon her decks; more than a hundred and twenty were desperately wounded. Every twelve-pounder of the starboard broadside was either dismounted, or disabled. The starboard side, which had been opposite the _Serapis_'s eighteen-pounders, was driven so far in, that, but for a few frames and stanchions which remained, the whole gun-deck would have fallen through. She was afire, and the flames licked upward with an eager hiss. "Take the wounded aboard the _Serapis_!" commanded Captain Jones. "We must desert our good ship!" In an hour's time all were upon the deck of the vanquished Britisher. No one was left on the _Richard_ but the dead. The torn and tattered flag was still flying from the gaff, and, as the battered sea-warrior gradually settled in the long swell, the unconquered ensign fluttered defiantly in the slight breeze. At length the _Bon Homme Richard_ plunged downward by the head; her taffrail rose momentarily on high, and, with a hoarse roar of eddying bubbles and sucking air, the conqueror disappeared from view. To her immortal dead was bequeathed the flag which they had so desperately defended. * * * * * So ended the great battle. Thus Paul Jones had made his name immortal. And by it he was to be known for all time. This was not the end of his career, by any means. He never again fought for the infant Republic of the United States. But he became an Admiral in the Russian Navy: battled valorously for the great Empress Catherine against the Turks, and died in Paris, July 18th, 1792. Buried at the French capital, his body was disinterred in the year 1905, and brought to the United States, to be entombed with military honors, at Annapolis, Maryland. Paul Jones loved brave men. The braver they were the more he loved them. When he went ashore and happened to meet his old sailors--every one of whom he knew and called by his first name--they seldom failed to strip his pockets of the last shilling. He was generous to a fault and faithful to his friends. His time, his purse, his influence were always at the call of those who had served under him. A typical sea-dog: a brave fighter,-- Then, why not give three times three for John Paul Jones? Are you ready? THE ESCAPE 'Tis of a gallant, Yankee ship that flew the Stripes and Stars, And the whistling wind from the west-nor'-west blew through her pitch-pine spars: With her starboard tacks aboard, my Boys, she hung upon the gale; On the Autumn night, that we passed the light, on the old Head of Kinsale. It was a clear and cloudless eve, and the wind blew steady and strong, As gayly, o'er the sparkling deep, our good ship bowled along; With the foaming seas beneath her bow, the fiery waves she spread, And, bending low her bosom of snow, she buried her lee cat-head. There was no talk of short'ning sail, by him who walked the poop, And, under the press of her pounding jib, the boom bent like a hoop! And the groaning, moaning water-ways, told the strain that held the tack, But, he only laughed, as he glanced aloft, at the white and silvery track. The mid-tide met in the Channel waves that flow from shore to shore, And the mist hung heavy upon the land, from Featherstone to Dunmore, And that sterling light in Tusker Rock, where the old bell tolls each hour, And the beacon light, that shone so bright, was quenched on Waterford tower. What looms upon our starboard bow? What hangs upon the breeze? 'Tis time that our good ship hauled her wind, abreast the old Saltees, For, by her pond'rous press of sail, and by her consorts four, We saw that our morning visitor, was a British Man-of-War. Up spoke our noble Captain--then--as a shot ahead of us passed,-- "Haul snug your flowing courses! Lay your topsail to the mast!" Those Englishmen gave three loud cheers, from the deck of their covered ark, And, we answered back by a solid broad-side, from the side of our patriot barque. "_Out booms! Out booms!_" our skipper cried, "_Out booms! and give her sheet!_" And the swiftest keel that e'er was launched, shot ahead of the British fleet, 'Midst a thundering shower of shot,--and with stern-sails hoisting away, Down the North Race _Paul Jones_ did steer, just at the break of day. --_Old Ballad._ CAPTAIN SILAS TALBOT STAUNCH PRIVATEERSMAN OF NEW ENGLAND (1751-1813) "If you want ter learn how ter fight, why jest fight."--_Dock-end Philosophy._ CAPTAIN SILAS TALBOT STAUNCH PRIVATEERSMAN OF NEW ENGLAND (1751-1813) "Talk about your clipper ships, chipper ships, ripper ships, Talk about your barquentines, with all their spars so fancy, I'll just take a sloop-o'-war with Talbot, with Talbot, An' whip 'em all into 'er chip, an' just to suit my fancy. "So, heave away for Talbot, for Talbot, for Talbot, So, heave away for Talbot, an' let th' Capting steer, For, he's the boy to smack them, to crack them, to whack them, For he's th' boy to ship with, if you want to privateer." --_Ballads of Rhode Island._--1782. A trading vessel, laden with wheat, from Cardigan in Wales, was lying to in the English Channel. Nearby rolled a long-bodied American Privateer, while a boat neared the trader, in the stern of which sat a staunch, weather-beaten officer in a faded pea-jacket. It was the year 1813 and war was on between England and the United States. When the blustering captain entered the cabin to survey his prize, he spied a small box with a hole in the top, on which was inscribed the words, "Missionary Box." He drew back, astonished. "Pray, my bold seaman," said he, turning to the Welsh captain, "what is this?" "Oh," replied the honest, old sailor, heaving a sigh, "'tis all over now." "What?" asked the American privateersman. "Why, the truth is," said the Welshman, "that I and my poor fellows have been accustomed, every Monday morning, to drop a penny each into that box for the purpose of sending out missionaries to preach the Gospel to the heathen; but it's all over now." The American seemed to be much abashed. "Indeed," said he, "that is very good of you." And, pausing a few moments, he looked abstractedly into the air, humming a tune beneath his breath. "Captain," said he, at length, "I'll not hurt a hair of your head, nor touch your vessel." So saying, he turned on his heel, took to his boat, and left the Welshman to pursue its even course. And--as the privateer filled away to starboard--a voice came from the deck of the helpless merchantman, "God bless Captain Silas Talbot and his crew!" But we do not know what the owners of the privateer said to the humane skipper about this little affair when he returned to New York. They might have uttered hard words about a Welshman who scored upon him by means of a pious fraud. At any rate Silas Talbot had done a good deed. This valorous privateer was born at Dighton, Massachusetts, on the Sakonet River about the year 1752; beginning his career at sea as a cabin-boy. At twenty-four he was a captain in the United States army and fought in the Revolutionary war, for a time, on land. But--by reason of his nautical training--he was placed in command of a fireship at New York, and was soon promoted to be Major--but still with duties upon the water and not the shore. While here, a soldier came to him, one day, with his eyes alight in excitement. "Major," said he, "there's a chance for a splendid little enterprise. Just off the coast of Rhode Island, near Newport, lies a British vessel, moored to a kedge. She mounts fifteen guns and around her is stretched a stout netting to keep off a party of boarders. But we can cut it and get through, I'll warrant. And the game is worth the candle." Young Talbot was delighted at the thought of a little expedition. "I'll tell you how we'll cut through," said he. "We'll fix a small anchor at the bowsprit of our sloop. Then, we'll ram her into the netting at night, and--if our vessel can punch hard enough--we'll have forty Americans upon the deck before you can say 'Jack Robinson.'" The soldier laughed. "Major Talbot," said he, "you are a true fighting man. I'll have a crew for you within twenty-four hours and we'll take the good sloop _Jasamine_, lying off of Hell Gate. Ahoy for the capture of the Englishman!" In two days' time, all was ready for the expedition. The sloop _Jasamine_ slowly drifted into the harbor of New York, an anchor spliced to her bowsprit, a crew of sturdy adventurers aboard; and, filling away in a stout sou'wester, rolled down the coast in the direction of Rhode Island. Reaching the vicinity of Newport, she lay to behind a sheltering peninsula, waiting for the night to come, so that she could drop down upon the Englishman under the cloak of darkness. Blackness settled upon the still and waveless water. With muffled oars the sloop now glided towards the dark hull of the British gun-boat; her men armed to the teeth, with fuses alight, and ready to touch off the cannon at the slightest sign of discovery. All was still upon the towering deck of the war-vessel and the little lights twinkled at her bow. But what was that? Suddenly a voice came through the darkness. "Who goes there?" No answer came but the dip of the oars in unison. "Who goes there? Answer, or I fire!" Again the slow beat of the oars and nothing more. _Crash!_ A musket spoke from the jutting bow in front of the sloop and a bullet struck in the foremast of the staunch attacker, with a resounding z-i-n-n-g! "We're discovered," whispered Talbot. "Pull for your lives, men, and punch her like a battering-ram. When we've cut through the netting, let every fellow dash upon her decks, and fight for every inch you can." As he ceased speaking, the bow of the sloop struck the roping stretched around the man-o'-warsman, and a ripping and tearing was plainly heard above the crash of small arms, the shouts of men, and the rumble of hawsers. Two cannon spoke from the side of the Englishman, and, as their roar echoed across the still ocean, the guns of the _Jasamine_ belched forth their answer. [Illustration: "TALBOT, HIMSELF, AT THE HEAD OF HIS ENTIRE CREW, CAME LEAPING ACROSS THE SIDE."] The anchor attached to the bowsprit had done what was desired. It tore a great hole in the stout netting, ripped open a breach sufficiently wide for entrance to the deck, and, as the cannon grumbled and spat at the sloop,--the bowsprit was black with jack-tars scrambling for an opportunity to board the Britisher. "Now, men," shouted Major Talbot, above the din. "Swing our craft sideways! Let go the port guns, and then let every mother's son rush the foe! And your cry must be, 'Death and no quarter!'" As he ceased, the good _Jasamine_ was forced sideways into the man-o'-warsman, and, propelled by the current, drifted against her with tremendous force, crushing the remaining nets as she did so. A few of the Americans were already on the deck in a terrific struggle with the half-sleepy English seamen, but--in a moment--Talbot, himself, at the head of his entire crew, came leaping across the side. Now was a scene of carnage. The cutlasses of both Yankee tar and British, were doing awful execution, and pistols were cracking like hail upon the roof. Back, back, went the English before the vigorous assault of the stormers, and, as the deck was now piled with the dead and dying, the commander of the man-o'-warsman cried out, "I surrender! Cease, you Yankee sea-dogs. You're too smart for me!" So saying, he held up a handkerchief tied to his cutlass, and the battle ceased. The story of the fight of Silas Talbot's was now on every lip, and all praised the daring and courage of this valorous Major, who was as bold as a lion, and as courageous as any seaman who sailed upon the sea. Promotion came rapidly to the soldier-sailor. In 1779 he became a colonel and was placed in command of the _Argo_, a sloop of about one hundred tons, armed with twelve six-pounders, and carrying but sixty men. 'Tis said that she looked like a "clumsy Albany trader," with one great, rakish mast, an immense mainsail, and a lean boom. Her tiller was very lengthy, she had high bulwarks and a wide stern--but, in spite of her raw appearance, she could sail fast and could show a clean pair of heels to most vessels of twice her size. Shortly after taking charge of this privateer, word was brought that Captain Hazard of the privateer _King George_ was off the coast of Rhode Island. "That's what I want," cried Captain Talbot, slapping his knee. "This fellow Hazard is an American. He was born in Rhode Island, and, instead of joining in our righteous cause against the Mother Country, he has elected to fight against us. For the base purpose of plundering his old neighbors and friends, he has fitted out the _King George_ and has already done great damage on the coast. Let me but catch the old fox and I'll give him a taste of American lead. I'll put a stop to the depredations of this renegade." The _King George_ had fourteen guns and eighty men, but this did not worry staunch and nervy Silas Talbot. He started in pursuit of her, as soon as he learned of her whereabouts, and, before many days, sighted a sail just off the New York coast, which was hoped to be the vessel of the renegade. Mile after mile was passed. Hour by hour the _Argo_ ploughed after the silvery sails, until, late in the afternoon, the stranger hovered near a shallow harbor on the coast, and seemed to await the on-coming privateer with full confidence. The _Argo_ boomed along under a spanking sou'wester and, sailing near the stranger, to the keen eyes of Talbot came the welcome sight of _King George_ painted upon the stern of the rakish privateer. "All hands man the guns," cried he. "We'll sink th' rascally Hazard with all his crew, unless he strikes. She's got more men and guns, but what care we for that. Take hold, my Hearties, and we'll soon make her know her master." The _King George_ seemed to welcome the coming fight; she luffed; lay to; and her men could be seen standing ready at the polished cannon. Now was one of the strangest battles of American sea history. The _King George_ cruised along under a full spread of canvas, jibbed, came about upon the port quarter of the stranger, and ran up to within shooting distance, when a broadside was poured into the deck of the rolling _Argo_. She replied with her own fourteen guns, and, before they could be reloaded, the _King George_ struck her alongside; the American seaman swarmed across the rail; and--if we are to believe a historian of the period--"drove the crew of _King George_ from their quarters, taking possession of her, without a man on either side being killed." Hats off to the doughty Silas Talbot for this brave adventure! Did you ever hear of such a fight with no man ever being slaughtered? Again rang the fame of Silas Talbot, but he was not to rest long upon laurels won. The British privateer _Dragon_--of three hundred tons and eighty men--was hovering near Providence, Rhode Island, hungry and eager for unprotected merchantmen. "I'll have to strike her," said Captain Talbot. It was a beautiful day in June. As the _Dragon_ drowsed along listlessly a dozen miles off the shore, her topsails barely filling in the gentle southerly breeze, the watch suddenly stirred, and sang out in no gentle tones, "Sail ho, off the starboard! Looks like Captain Talbot of the _Argo_!" The captain came bounding from his cabin, glass in hand. "Sure enough," said he, scanning the white sails upon the horizon. "It's Talbot and we're in for a tight affair. All hands prepare for action!" There was noise and confusion upon the deck of the privateer as the guns were sponged, charges were rammed home, and all prepared for battle. Meanwhile, the stranger came nearer, and rounding to within striking distance, crashed a broadside into the slumbering _Dragon_, who had not yet shown her fangs. _Crackle! Crackle! Boom!_ The small arms from the Britisher began to spit at the advancing privateer, and seven of her fourteen guns rang out a welcome to the sailors of Rhode Island. The solid shot ploughed through the rigging, cutting ropes and spars with knife-like precision. "Round her to on the port quarter!" shouted Captain Talbot, "and get near enough for boarding!" But, as the _Argo_ swung near her antagonist, the _Dragon_ dropped away--keeping just at pistol-shot distance. "Run her down!" yelled the stout Rhode Islander, as he saw this manoeuvre of his wily foe. Then he uttered an exclamation of disgust, for, as he spoke, a bullet struck his speaking trumpet; knocking it to the deck, and piercing it with a jagged hole. "Never mind!" cried he, little disconcerted at the mishap. "Give it to her, boys!" Then he again uttered an exclamation, for a bounding cannon ball--ricochetting from the deck--took off the end of his coat-tail.[1] [1] A true incident vouched for by two historians. "I'll settle with you for that," yelled the old sea-dog, leaping to a cannon, and, pointing it himself, he touched the fuse to the vent. A puff of smoke, a roar, and a ball ploughed into the mainmast of the rocking _Dragon_. Talbot smiled with good humor. "Play for that, my brave fellows," he called out, above the din of battle. "Once get the mainmast overside, and we can board her." With a cheer, his sailors redoubled their efforts to sink the _Dragon_, and solid shot fairly rained into her hull, as the two antagonists bobbed around the rolling ocean in this death grapple. Thus they sparred and clashed for four and a half hours, when, with a great splitting of sails and wreck of rigging, the mainmast of the _Dragon_ trembled, wavered, and fell to leeward with a sickening thud. "She's ours!" yelled Captain Talbot, through his dented speaking trumpet. Sure enough, the _Dragon_ had had enough. Her wings had been clipped, and, in a moment more, a white flag flew from her rigging. "The _Argo_ is sinking! The _Argo_ is sinking!" came a cry, at this moment. "Inspect the sides of our sloop," cried Talbot. This was done, immediately, and it was found that there were numerous shot-holes between wind and water, which were speedily plugged up. Then, bearing down upon the crippled _Dragon_, she was boarded; a prize-crew was put aboard; and the _Argo_ steered for home, her men singing, "Talk about your gay, old cocks, Yankee, Doodle, Dandy, 'Si' Talbot he can heave the blocks, And stick like pepp'mint candy. "Yankee--Doodle--Shoot and kill, Yankee--Doodle--Dandy, Yankee--Doodle--Back an' fill, Yankee--Doodle--Dandy." Silas Talbot, in fact, had done extremely well, but, not content with his laurels already won, he soon put out again upon the _Argo_, in company with another privateer from Providence, Rhode Island, called the _Saratoga_; which sailed under a Captain Munro. They were not off the coast more than two days when they came across the _Dublin_; a smart, English privateer-cutter of fourteen guns, coming out of Sandy Hook. Instead of running away, she ploughed onward, and cleared for action. The _Argo_ and the _Saratoga_ ran in upon the windward quarter and banged away with audacity. The fight lasted for an hour. Then--as the _Argo_ tacked in closer in order to grapple and board--the _Saratoga_ was headed for the privateer. But--instead of coming in--she began to run off in the wind. "Hard a-weather! Hard up there with the helm!" cried Captain Munro. "It is hard up!" cried the steersman. "You lie, you blackguard!" cried Munro. "She goes away lasking! Hard a-weather I say again!" "It is hard a-weather, I say again, captain," cried the fellow at the tiller. "Captain Talbot thinks that I am running away when I want to join him," cried Munro. "What the deuce is the matter anyway?" "Why, I can tell you," cried a young Lieutenant. "You've got an iron tiller in place of the wooden one, and she's loose in the rudder head, so your boat won't steer correctly." "Egad, you're right," said Munro, as he examined the top of the tiller. "Now, jam her over and we'll catch this _Dublin_ of old Ireland, or else I'm no sailor. We'll give her a broadside, too, when we come up." The _Argo_, meanwhile, was hammering the Englishman in good fashion, and, as the _Saratoga_ pumped a broadside into her--raking her from bow to stern--the _Dublin_ struck her colors. "Two to one, is too much odds," cried the English captain, as a boat neared the side of his vessel. "I could have licked either of you, alone." And, at this, both of the American privateersmen chuckled. Old "Si" Talbot was soon in another fight. Three days later he chased another sail, and coming up with her, found his antagonist to be the _Betsy_: an English privateer of twelve guns and fifty-eight men, commanded by an honest Scotchman. The _Argo_ ranged up alongside and Talbot hailed the stranger. After a bit of talk he hoisted the Stars and Stripes, crying, "You must haul down those British colors, my friend!" To which the Scot replied: "Notwithstanding I find you an enemy, as I suspected, yet, sir, I believe that I shall let them hang a little longer, with your permission. So fire away, Flanagan!" "And that I'll do," yelled Talbot. "Flanagan will be O'Toole and O'Grady before the morning's over. For I'll beat you like an Irish constable from Cork." So it turned out. Before an hour was past, the _Betsy_ had struck, the captain was killed, and all of his officers were wounded. "Old Si"--you see--had had good luck. So well, indeed, had he fought, that in 1780 he was put in command of a good-sized vessel, the _General Washington_. In her he cruised about Sandy Hook in search of spoil. One hazy day in August, the watch sang out, "Several sail astern, Sir! Looks like a whole squadron!" Talbot seized the glass and gazed intently at the specks of white. "Egad! It _is_ a squadron," said he, at length. "And they're after me. Crowd on every stitch of canvas and we'll run for it." So all sail was hoisted, and the _General Washington_ stood out to sea. But the sails of the pursuers grew strangely clear. They came closer, ever closer, and Talbot paced the deck impatiently. "Gad Zooks!" cried he, "I wish that I could fly like a bird." He could not fly, and, in two hours' time the red flag on the foremast of a British brig was clear to the eyes of the crew of the privateer. When--an hour later--a solid shot spun across his bow, "Old Si" Talbot hove to, and ran up the white flag. He was surrounded by six vessels of the English and he felt, for once, that discretion was the better part of valor. * * * * * "Old Si" was now thrown into a prison ship off Long Island and then was taken to England aboard the _Yarmouth_. Imprisoned at Dartmoor, he made four desperate attempts to escape. All failed. In the summer of 1781 he was liberated; found his way home to Rhode Island; and died "with his boots on" in New York, June 30th, 1813. The old sea-dogs of his native state still cherish the memory of "Capting Si;" singing a little song, which runs: "He could take 'er brig or sloop, my boy, An' fight her like 'er man. He could steer 'er barque or barquentine, An' make her act jest gran! 'Ole Si' wuz 'er rip-dazzler, His flag wuz never struck, Until 'er British squadroon, Jest catched him in th' ruck. "So drink 'er drop ter 'Ole Si,' Sky-high, Oh my! Drink 'er glass ter 'Ole Si,' th' skipper from our kentry. Give three cheers fer 'Ole Si,' Sky-high, Oh my! Give three cheers fer 'Ole Si,' th' pride o' Newport's gentry." [Illustration: From "The Army and Navy of the United States." AMERICAN PRIVATEER CAPTURING TWO ENGLISH SHIPS.] CAPTAIN "JOSH" BARNEY THE IRREPRESSIBLE YANKEE (1759-1818) "Never strike your flag until you have to. And if you have to, why let it come down easy-like, with one, last gun,--fer luck."--_Maxims of 1812._ CAPTAIN "JOSH" BARNEY THE IRREPRESSIBLE YANKEE (1759-1818) If you would hear of fighting brave, Of war's alarms and prisons dark, Then, listen to the tale I tell, Of Yankee pluck--and cruising barque, Which, battling on the rolling sea, There fought and won,--Can such things be? It was about eight o'clock in the evening. The moon was bright, and as the privateer _Pomona_ swung along in the fresh breeze, her Captain, Isaiah Robinson of New York, laid his hand softly upon the shoulder of his first officer, Joshua Barney, saying, "A ship off the lee-quarter, Barney, she's an Englishman, or else my name's not Robinson." Barney raised his glass. "A British brig, and after us, too. She's a fast sailer and is overhauling us. But we'll let her have a broadside from our twelve guns and I believe that we can stop her." The _Pomona_ carried thirty-five men. Laden with tobacco for Bordeaux, France, she was headed for that sunny land,--but all ready for a fight, if one should come to her. And for this she carried twelve guns, as her first officer had said. The British boat came nearer and nearer. Finally she was close enough for a voice to be heard from her deck, and she ran up her colors. A cry came from the black body, "What ship is that?" There was no reply, but the Stars and Stripes were soon floating from the mainmast of the American. "Haul down those colors!" came from the Britisher. There was no answer, but the _Pomona_ swung around so that her port guns could bear, and a clashing broadside plunged into the pursuer. Down came her fore-topsail, the rigging cut and torn in many places, and, as the American again showed her heels, the British captain cried out, "All sail aloft and catch the saucy and insolent privateer!" Then commenced one of the most interesting running actions of American naval history. "The cursed American has no stern-gun ports," said the British sea-captain. "So keep the ship abaft, and on th' port quarter, where we can let loose our bow-guns and get little in return." This was done, but--if we are to believe an old chronicler of the period--"The British crew had been thrown into such confusion by the _Pomona_'s first broadside that _they were able to fire only one or two shots every half hour_." "By Gad," cried Joshua Barney to Captain Robinson, about this time, "let's cut a hole in our stern, shove a cannon through it, and whale the British landlubber as he nears us for another shot with her bow-chasers." The captain grinned. "A good idea, Barney, a good idea," he chuckled. "Now we can teach her to keep clear of us." So a three-pounder soon poked her nose through the stern, and, when the proud Britisher again came up for one of her leisurely discharges, she received a dose of grape which made her captain haul off precipitously. Nor did he venture near again for another shot at the saucy fugitive. When daylight came, sixteen guns were counted upon the British brig. "By George!" shouted Barney. "See those officers in the rigging. She's a gun-ship--a regular ship-of-war." But Captain Robinson laughed. "That's an old game," said he. "They're tryin' to fool us into the belief that she's a real gun-boat, so's we'll surrender immediately. But see--she's drawin' near again--and seems as if she's about to board us from the looks of her crew." Barney gazed intently at the stranger. "You're right," said he. "Load the three-pounder with grape-shot." "And here's a crow-bar as'll top it off nice," put in a sailor. Captain Robinson laughed. "Yes, spike her in, too. She'll plunk a hole clear through th' rascal," he cried. "I'll touch her off myself." The British gun-boat drew nearer and nearer. Just as she was within striking distance--about ten yards--the three-pounder was touched off with a deaf'ning roar. "So accurate was the aim," says an old historian, "that the British were completely baffled in their attempt; their foresails and all their weather foreshrouds being cut away." "Give her a broadside!" called out Captain Robinson, as the brig sheered off in order to support its foremast, which tottered with its own weight; the rigging which supported it, being half cut away. And, as he spoke--the crew let drive a shower of balls and grape-shot. It was the last volley. The _Pomona_ kept upon her course, while the white sails of the attacker grew fainter and fainter upon the horizon. "I saw her name as she ranged in close to us," said Joshua Barney, slapping Captain Robinson on the back. "And it was the _Rosebud_." "I reckon that _Rosebud_ has no thorns left," chuckled Captain Robinson, and he was still chuckling when the little _Pomona_ safely sailed into the harbor of Bordeaux in France. The voyage had been a success. Here a store of guns, powder and shot was purchased, and, having shipped a cargo of brandy, and raised the crew to seventy men, the staunch, little vessel set sail for America. Not three days from the coast of France the cry of "Sail ho!" startled all on board, and, upon the starboard quarter--loomed a British privateer. Upon nearer view she was seen to have sixteen guns and seventy men. "All hands for a fight!" cried Robinson. "Don't let th' fellow escape." Now was a hard battle. It lasted for full two hours, and--in the end--the Britisher struck, with twelve killed and a number wounded, while the American loss was but one killed and two wounded. The _Pomona_ kept upon her course, jubilantly. But the saucy ship was not to have all smooth sailing. She was soon captured--by whom it is not known--and stout "Josh" Barney became a prisoner of war. In December, 1780, with about seventy American officers, he was placed on board the _Yarmouth_--a sixty-four-gun brig--and was shipped to England. Now listen to the treatment given him according to a contemporaneous historian. Did you ever hear of anything more atrocious? Peace--indeed--had more horrors than war in the year 1780. "From the time these Americans stepped aboard the _Yarmouth_ their captors gave it to be understood, by hints and innuendos, that they were being taken to England 'to be hanged as rebels;' and, indeed the treatment they received aboard the _Yarmouth_ on the passage over, led them to believe that the British officers intended to cheat the gallows of their prey, by causing the prisoners to die before they reached port. "On coming aboard the ship-of-the-line, these officers were stowed away in the lower hold, next to the keel, under five decks, and many feet below the water-line. Here, in a twelve-by-twenty-foot room, with upcurving floor, and only three feet high, the seventy-one men were kept for fifty-three days, like so much merchandise--without light or good air--unable to stand upright, with no means to get away. "Their food was of the poorest quality, and was supplied in such insufficient quantities, that, whenever one of the prisoners died, the survivors concealed the fact, in order that the dead man's allowance might be added to theirs. The water which they were served to drink was atrocious. "From the time the _Yarmouth_ left New York till she reached Plymouth, in a most tempestuous winter passage, these men were kept in this loathsome dungeon. Eleven died in delirium; their wild ravings and piercing shrieks appalling their comrades, and giving them a foretaste of what they, themselves, might expect. Not even a surgeon was permitted to visit them. "Arriving at Plymouth, the pale, emaciated men were ordered to come on deck. Not one obeyed, for they were unable to stand upright. Consequently they were hoisted up, the ceremony being grimly suggestive of the manner in which they had been treated,--like merchandise. And what were they to do, now that they had been placed on deck? "The light of the sun, which they had scarcely seen for fifty-three days, fell upon their weak, dilated pupils with blinding force; their limbs were unable to uphold them, their frames wasted by disease and want. Seeking for support, they fell in a helpless mass, one upon the other, waiting and almost hoping for the blow that was to fall upon them next. Captain Silas Talbot was one of these unfortunate prisoners. "To send them ashore in this condition was 'impracticable,' so the British officers said, and we readily discover that this 'impracticable' served the purpose of diverting the indignation of the land's folk, which sure would be aroused, if they knew that such brutality had been practiced under the cross of St. George (the cross upon the British flag). "Waiting, then, until the captives could, at least, endure the light of day, and could walk without leaning on one another, or clutching at every object for support, the officers had them removed to the old Mill Prison." This story has been denied, for the reason that the log of the _Yarmouth_ shows that she was forty-four and not fifty-three days at sea, and the captain writes: "We had the prisoners 'watched' (divided into port and starboard watch) and set them to the pumps. I found it necessary so to employ them, the ship's company, from their weak and sickly state, being unequal to that duty, and, on that account to order them whole allowance of provisions." It would have been impossible for men to be in the condition which the first historian describes if they had to man the pumps. It would have been impossible for them to have done an hour's work. Therefore, I, myself, believe the second story. Don't you? But to return to stout "Josh" Barney, now meditating thoughts of escape in old Mill Prison. Bold and resourceful he was always, and he was now determined to face the difficulties of an exit and the chances of detection. "I must and can get away," he said. The prisoners were accustomed to play leap-frog, and one day the crafty "Josh" pretended that he had sprained his ankle. Constructing two crutches--out of pieces of boards--he limped around the prison-yard and completely deceived all but a few of his most intimate friends. One day--it was May the eighteenth, 1781--he passed a sentry near the inner gate. The fellow's name was Sprokett and he had served in the British army in America, where he had received many kindnesses from the country people. For this reason his heart warmed to the stout, young "Josh," who had often engaged him in conversation. Hopping to the gate upon his crutches, the youthful American whispered, "Give me a British uniform and I will get away. Can you do it?" Sprokett smiled. "Sure," said he. "To-day?" "Dinner." And this meant one o'clock, when the warders dined. "All right," whispered "Josh," smiling broadly, and he again hobbled around the yard. After awhile the sentry motioned for him to come nearer. He did so--and as he approached--a large bundle was stealthily shoved into his arms. He hastened to his cell and there put on the undress uniform of an officer of the British army. Drawing on his great-coat, he went into the yard and hobbled about upon his two sticks until the time drew near for the mid-day mess. Then he drew close to the gate. One o'clock tolled from the iron bell upon the prison rampart, and, as its deep-toned echoes sounded from its tower, several of Barney's friends engaged the half-dozen sentries in conversation. It was the time for action. The astute "Josh" suddenly dropped his crutches. Then--walking across the enclosure towards the gate,--he winked to the sentry. A companion was at hand. With a spring he leaped upon his shoulders. One boost--and he was on top of the walk. Another spring, and he had dropped to the other side as softly as a cat. But the second gate and sentry had to be passed. Walking up to this red-coated individual he placed four guineas (about $20.00) into his outstretched palm. The soldier smiled grimly, as the great-coat was tossed aside, and the shrewdest privateer in the American Navy walked towards the opening through the outer wall, which was usually left ajar for the convenience of the prison officials. Another sentry stood upon duty at this point. Barney nodded. The sentry had been "squared" (told of the coming escape) and so he turned his back. Thus--with his heart beating like a trip-hammer--"Josh," the nervy one--walked down the cobbled street outside of the "Old Mill." He was free. Dodging into a lane, he soon met a friend who had been told of his attempt, and who took him to the house of an old clergyman in Plymouth. In the morning, with two fellow-countrymen, who were also in hiding (for they had been captured as passengers in a merchant vessel), he secured a fishing-smack. "Josh" now covered his uniform. Putting on an old coat with a tarred rope tied around his waist, a pair of torn trousers, and a tarpaulin hat, the disguised Jack-tar ran the little vessel down the River Plym, just as day was dawning. The forts and men-of-war were safely passed, and the little shallop tossed upon the gleaming wavelets of the English channel. We are told that his escape was not noticed for some time because "a slender youth who was capable of creeping through the window-bars at pleasure crawled into Barney's cell (in the Old Mill Prison) and answered for him." I doubt this, for--if you have ever seen the bars of a prison--it would take a Jack Spratt to get through them, and Jack Spratts are not common. At any rate someone answered to the daily roll-call for Joshua B., so that it was full two weeks before the authorities knew of his escape. Perhaps there was a ventriloquist in the jail. The tiny boat in which the adventurous American hoped to reach the welcome shores of France, bobbed up and down, as she ambled towards the low-lying coast, under a gentle southerly breeze. But there was trouble in this self-same wind, for the white wings of a British privateer grew nearer and nearer, and a hail soon came: "What's your name, and where are you bound?" Barney and his partners in distress did not answer at all. They scowled as a boat was lowered from the side of their pursuer, and quickly splashed towards them. In not many moments, a swearing sea-captain swung himself upon their deck. "Who are you, you lubbers?" said he. "Where' yer papers, and where' yer bound to?" "I'm a British officer," replied the astute Joshua, opening his coat and disclosing the uniform of the service. "I am bound for France upon official business." The Captain snickered. "An' with two others in er' launch? Aw go tell that to th' marines!" "It's God's truth. I'm in a state secret." "Wall--be that as it may be--you must come aboard of my vessel and tell yer state secret to th' authorities in England. Meanwhile, I'll put a skipper of my own aboard yer vessel and we'll travel together--bein' friends." Barney swore beneath his breath. Thus the two boats beat towards the coast of Merrie England in company, and upon the day following, came to anchor in a small harbor, six miles from Plymouth. The captain of the privateer went ashore in order to report to Admiral Digby at Plymouth, while most of the crew also hastened to the beach in order to avoid the chance of being seized by the press-gang, which harried incoming vessels for recruits for His Majesty's service. "Can't I go, too?" asked the cautious "Josh." "No, you must remain on board until we come for you," said the captain, as he jumped into his boat en route for the shore. "Mister Officer, I want to search your record." Then he laughed brutishly. But Barney's thinking cap was working like a mill race. There was a jolly-boat tied to the stern of the privateer, and, when all were safe ashore, he gently slipped into this, purposely skinning his leg as he did so. Then he sculled to the beach; where a group of idlers stood looking out to sea. "Here," he cried, as he neared them. "Help me haul up this boat, will yer? She's awful heavy." A custom's officer was among these loiterers and he was inquisitive. "Who are you?" said he. "What regiment and where stationed, pray?" "That I cannot answer, my friend," calmly replied the acute "Josh," pointing to the blood as it trickled through his stocking. "I am badly injured, you see, and must go away in order to get my leg tied up. Prithee, kind sir, can you tell me where the crew from my vessel have gone to?" "They are at the Red Lion at the end of the village," replied the official of the law. "You are, indeed, badly hurt." "Wall, I reckon," replied the American, and, stumbling up the beach, he was soon headed for the end of the little village. But things were not to go too well with him. He found that he was obliged to pass the Red Lion, and he had almost succeeded in doing so unmolested, when one of the sailors who was loitering outside, cried out after him, "Ho, friend! I would speak with you!" "Josh" had to stop although sorely tempted to run for it. "I've got some idee of shippin' in th' Navy," said the fellow, as he approached. "Now, friend, you can tell me somethin' of th' pay an' service, as you're an officer of th' army." Barney's eyes shone with pleasure, as he saw that his disguise had deceived the fellow. "Walk along with me towards Plymouth," said he, "and I'll explain everything to you. I have business there which will not wait and I must get on to it." So they jogged along together, talking vigorously about the Navy, but, in the course of half an hour the jack-tar seemed to think better of his plan for entering "a service noted for its cruelty to seamen," and turned back, saying, "Thank'ee my fine friend. Thank'ee. I'll stick to privateerin'. It's easier an' there's less cat-o'-nine-tails to it." As soon as his burly form disappeared down the winding road, Barney began to grow anxious about his safety. Perhaps a guard would be sent after him? Perhaps--even now--men had discovered his absence and were hurrying to intercept him? So--with these thoughts upon his mind--he jumped over a stiff hedge into the grounds of Lord Mount-Edgecumbe. "Egad! it's touch and go with me," said he, as he walked down one of the gravelled paths. "I'm in for it now for here comes the gardener." Sure enough, towards him ambled a middle-aged fellow, smiling as he pushed along a wheel-barrow filled with bulbs. Joshua walked up to him, extending his right hand. "My friend," said he, "I am an officer escaping from some seamen who wish my life because of a duel in which I recently engaged over the hand of a fair lady. Here is a guinea. It is all that I possess. And--if you could but pilot me to the waterside and will not tell of my whereabouts--I will bless you to my dying day." The good-humored man-of-the-soil smiled benignly. "Prithee, but follow me," said he, "and we'll soon see that you pass by the way of the water gate. Your money is most welcome, sir, for my wife is just now ill and doctors must be paid, sir. That you know right well." Barney breathed easier as they walked towards the sea; for out of the corner of his eye he saw a guard--sent to capture him--tramping along the other side of the hedge over which he had leaped. "Good-bye and good luck!" cried the kind-hearted servant as he closed the private gate which led to the waterside. And, with a wave of the hand, the fleeing American was soon hastening to the winding river, over which he must cross in order to get on to Plymouth. Luck was still with him. A butcher who was ferrying some beeves by water, took him in his boat, and, as night fell, the keen-witted privateersman crept through the back door of the old clergyman's house at Plymouth--from which he had started. For the time being, he was safe. Strange to relate, the two friends of the fishing-smack adventure here joined him once more, for they, also, had run away from the crew of the privateer, and--as they sat around the supper-table--the town-crier went by the house, bawling in harsh and discordant tones: "Five guineas reward for the capture of Joshua Barney; a rebel deserter from Mill Prison! Five guineas reward for this deserter! Five guineas! Five guineas!" But Barney stuffed his napkin into his mouth in order to stop his laughter. Three days later a clean-shaven, bright-cheeked, young dandy stepped into a post chaise, at midnight, and drove off to Exeter. At Plymouth gate the conveyance was stopped; a lantern was thrust into the black interior; and the keen eyes of the guard scanned the visages of those within: "He's not here," growled the watchman, lowering the light. "Drive on!" Thus Joshua Barney rolled on to home and freedom, while the stout-bodied soldier little guessed that the artful privateersman had slipped through his fingers like water through a sieve. Two months later--in the autumn of 1781--Joshua Barney: fighter, privateer, liar and fugitive, walked down the quiet streets of Beverly, Massachusetts, and a little fish-monger's son whispered to his companions, "Say, Boys! That feller is a Jim Dandy. He's been through more'n we'll ever see. Say! He's a regular Scorcher!" * * * * * Many months later--when the Revolutionary War had ended--the good ship _General Washington_ lay in Plymouth Harbor on the south coast of England. Her commander--Captain Joshua Barney--gazed contentedly at the Stars and Stripes as they flew jauntily from the mizzen-mast, and then walked to the rail, as a group of British officers came over the side. But there was one among these guests who was not an officer. He was bent, old, weather-beaten; and his dress showed him to be a tiller and worker of the soil. It was the aged and faithful gardener of Lord Mount-Edgecumbe. "You remember me?" cried the genial American, grasping the honest servant by the hand. The gardener's eyes were alight with pleasure. "You are the feller who jumped over the hedge--many years ago--when the sea-dogs were hot upon your trail." Joshua Barney chuckled. "The same," said he. "And here is a purse of gold to reward my kind and worthy helpmeet." So saying, he placed a heavy, chamois bag of glittering eagles into the trembling hands of the ancient retainer. THE DERELICT Unmoored, unmanned, unheeded on the deep-- Tossed by the restless billow and the breeze, It drifts o'er sultry leagues of tropic seas. Where long Pacific surges swell and sweep, When pale-faced stars their silent watches keep, From their far rhythmic spheres, the Pleiades, In calm beatitude and tranquil ease, Smile sweetly down upon its cradled sleep. Erewhile, with anchor housed and sails unfurled, We saw the stout ship breast the open main, To round the stormy Cape, and span the World, In search of ventures which betoken gain. To-day, somewhere, on some far sea we know Her battered hulk is heaving to and fro. ROBERT SURCOUF THE "SEA HOUND" FROM ST. MALO (1773-1827) "If you would be known never to have done anything, never do it."--EMERSON. ROBERT SURCOUF THE "SEA HOUND" FROM ST. MALO (1773-1827) _Parlez-vous Français?_ Yes, Monsieur, I can speak like a native,--sure. Then, take off your cap to the lilies of France, Throw it up high, and hasten the dance. For "Bobbie" Surcouf has just come to town, _Tenez!_ He's worthy of wearing a crown. It was a sweltering, hot day in July and the good ship _Aurora_ swung lazily in the torpid waters of the Indian Ocean. Her decks fairly sizzled in the sun, and her sails flopped like huge planks of wood. She was becalmed on a sheet of molten brass. "I can't stand this any longer," said a young fellow with black hair and swarthy skin. "I'm going overboard." From his voice it was easy to see he was a Frenchman. Hastily stripping himself, he went to the gangway, and standing upon the steps, took a header into the oily brine. He did not come up. "Sacre nom de Dieu!" cried a sailor. "Young Surcouf be no risen. Ah! He has been down ze long time. Ah! Let us lower ze boat and find heem." "Voilà! Voilà!" cried another. "He ees drowned!" _Plunkety, plunk, splash!_ went a boat over the side, and in a moment more, a half dozen sailors were eagerly looking into the deep, blue wash of the ocean. "He no there. I will dive for heem," cried out the fellow who had first spoken, and, leaping from the boat, he disappeared from view. In a few moments he re-appeared, drawing the body of the first diver with him. It was apparently helpless. The prostrate sailor was lifted to the deck; rubbed, worked over, scrubbed,--but no signs of life were there. Meanwhile, a Portuguese Lieutenant, who was pacing the poop, appeared to be much pleased at what took place. "The fellow's dead! The beggar's done for,--sure. Overboard with the rascal! To the waves with the dead 'un!" "Give us a few more moments," cried the sailors. "He will come to!" But the Lieutenant smiled satirically. "To the waves with the corpse! To the sharks with the man from St. Malo!" cried he. And all of this the senseless seaman heard--for--he was in a cataleptic fit, where he could hear, but could not move. The Portuguese Lieutenant and he were bitter enemies. "Oh, I tell you, Boys, the fellow's dead!" again cried the Portuguese. "Over with him!" So saying, he seized the inert body with his hands; dragged it to the ship's side; and started to lift it to the rail. Conscious of all that went on around him, the paralyzed Surcouf realized that, unless he could make some sign, he had only a few seconds to live. So, with a tremendous effort--he made a movement of his limbs. It was noticed. "Voilà! Voilà!" cried a French sailor. "He ees alife. No! No! You cannot kill heem!" Running forward, he grabbed the prostrate form of Robert Surcouf, pulled it back upon the deck, and--as the Portuguese Lieutenant went off cursing--he rubbed the cold hands of the half-senseless man. In a moment the supposed corpse had opened its eyes. "Ah!" he whispered. "I had a close call. A thousand thanks to all!" In five more moments he could stand upon the deck, and--believe me--he did not forget the Portuguese Lieutenant! Robert Surcouf was born at St. Malo--just one hundred years after Du Guay-Trouin, to whom he was related. And like his famous relative he had been intended for the Church,--but he was always fighting; was insubordinate, and could not be made to study. In fact, he was what is known as a "holy terror." Finally good Mamma Surcouf sent him to the Seminary of St. Dinan, saying: "Now, Robert, be a good boy and study hard thy lessons!" And Robert said, "Oui, Madame!" But he would not work. One day the master in arithmetic did not like the method in which young "Bobbie" answered him, and raising a cane, he ran towards the youthful scholar. But Robert had learned a kind of "Jiu-Jitsu" practiced by the youths of France, and he tackled his irate master like an end-rush upon the foot-ball team, when he dives for a runner. Both fell to the ground with a thud. And all the other boys yelled "Fine!" in unison. Now was a fierce battle, but weight told, and "Bobbie" was soon underneath, with his teeth in the leg of his tutor. They scratched and rolled until "Bobbie" freed himself, and, running to the window, jumped outside--for he was on the ground floor--scaled the garden fence, and made off. Home was twenty miles away. "I must get there, somehow," said young "Bobbie." "I can never go back. I will be spanked so that I cannot seat myself." So little "Bob" trudged onward in the snow, for it was winter. It grew dark. It was bitterly cold, and he had no hat. At length--worn out with cold and hunger--he sank senseless to the roadside. Luck pursues those destined for greatness. Some fish-merchants happened that way, and, seeing the poor, helpless, little boy, they picked him up; placed him upon a tiny dog-cart; and carried him to St. Malo, where he had a severe attack of pneumonia. But his good mother nursed him through, saying: "Ta donc! He will never be a scholar. Ta donc! Young Robbie must go to sea!" So when "Bobbie" was well he was shipped aboard the brig _Heron_, bound for Cadiz, Spain--and he was only just thirteen. But he threw up his cap crying, "This is just what I've always wanted. Hurrah for the salty brine!" At about twenty years of age we find him upon the good ship _Aurora_ from which his dive into the Indian Ocean came near being his last splash. And the Portuguese Lieutenant did not forget. Upon the next visit of the cruiser _Aurora_ to the coast of Africa an epidemic of malarial fever struck the crew. Among those who succumbed to the disease was the Portuguese Lieutenant. He was dangerously ill. The ship arrived at the island of Mauritius, and, Lieutenant Robert Surcouf was just going ashore, when he received a message which said: "Come and see me. I am very ill." It was from his enemy,--the Portuguese. Surcouf did not like the idea, but after thinking the matter over, he went. But note this,--he had a pair of loaded pistols in his pocket. Dead men--you know--tell no tales. As he entered the sick man's cabin, a servant was there. The Portuguese made a sign to him to retire. "I wish to speak to you with a sincere heart," said he, turning his face to young Surcouf. "Before I pass from this world I want to relieve my conscience, and ask your forgiveness for all the evil which I have wished you during our voyages together." "I bear you no malice," said Surcouf. "Let by-gones be by-gones." As he spoke a spasm seemed to contort the body of the dying man. One arm stretched out towards a pillow nearby, and Robert had a sudden, but excellent thought. Stepping forward, he seized the hand of his old enemy, lifted the pillow, and, then started back with an exclamation of astonishment. "Ye Gods!" cried he. "You would murder me!" There, before him, were two cocked and loaded pistols. Leaping forward he grabbed the weapons, pointing one at the forehead of the rascally sailor. "You miserable beast!" cried he. "I can now shoot you like a dog, or squash you like an insect; but I despise you too much. I will leave you to die like a coward." "And," says a historian, "this is what the wretched man did,--blaspheming in despairing rage." In October, 1794, Lieutenant Surcouf saw his first big battle, for, the English being at war with the French, two British men-of-war hovered off the island of Mauritius, blockading the port of St. Thomas. They were the _Centurion_ of fifty-four guns, and the _Diomede_, also of fifty-four cannon, but with fewer tars. The French had four ships of war: the _Prudente_, forty guns; the _Cybele_, forty-four guns; the _Jean Bart_, twenty guns; and the _Courier_, fourteen guns. Surcouf was junior Lieutenant aboard the _Cybele_. It was a beautiful, clear day, as the French vessels ploughed out to battle; their sails aquiver with the soft breeze; their pennons fluttering; guns flashing; and eager sailors crowding to the rails with cutlasses newly sharpened and pistols in their sashes. _Boom!_ The first gun spoke. The first shell spun across the bow of the British bull-dog _Diomede_, and the battle was on. Have you ever seen a school of pollock chasing a school of smaller fry? Have you ever seen them jump and splash, and thud upon the surface of the water? Well--that is the way that the shells looked and sounded--as they plumped and slushed into the surface of the southern sea; and every now and then there was a _punk_, and a _crash_, and a _chug_, as a big, iron ball bit into the side of a man-of-war. Around and around sailed the sparring assailants, each looking for a chance to board. _Crash! Roar! Crash!_ growled the broadsides. Shrill screams sounded from the wounded; the harsh voices of the officers echoed above the din of the conflict; and, the whining bugle squealed ominously between the roaring crush of grape and chain-shot. But the French got nearer and nearer. Great gaps showed in the bulwarks of the _Diomede_; one mast was tottering. Beaten and outnumbered she stood out to sea, her sailors crowding into the rigging like monkeys, and spreading every stitch of white canvas. "She runs! Egad, she runs!" cried the Commander of the other British vessel. "Faith, I cannot stand off four Frenchmen alone. I must after her to save my scalp." So--putting his helm hard over--he threw his vessel before the wind, and she spun off, pursued by bouncing shells and shrieking grapnel. "Voilà!" cried the French. "Ze great battaile, eet belongs to us!" But there were many dead and wounded upon the decks of the proud French warships. Soon after this smart, little affair the soldiers and sailors who had been in this fight were discharged,--and--looking about for employment, young Robert took the first position that presented itself: the command of the brig _Creole_,--engaged in the slave trade. He made several successful voyages, but orders were issued to-- "Arrest the Slave Hunter and all his crew, When they arrive at the Mauritius." One of those little birds which sometimes carry needed information, both on sea and land, whispered this ill news to the gallant, young sea-dog. So he steered for the isle of Bourbon, and there landed his human freight in a small bay. At daybreak he lay at anchor in the Harbor of St. Paul in that self-same island. About eight in the morning a boat was seen approaching, and to the hail,--"Who goes there?" came the reply-- "Public Health Committee from St. Denis. We wish to come on board and to inspect your ship." Surcouf was much annoyed. "You can climb aboard," said he, stifling an exclamation of disgust. "I am at your service." In a few moments the commissioners were upon the deck, and, in a few moments more, they had discovered that the ship was a slaver. Turning to the youthful captain, one of the committee said: "You, sir, are engaged in illegal traffic. You must suffer for this, and must come with us at once to the city to answer an indictment drawn up against you." Surcouf smiled benignly. "I am at your service," said he, with a polite bow. "But do not go--I pray thee--until you have given me the great pleasure of partaking of the breakfast which my cook has hastily prepared." The Committee-men smiled. "You are very kind," said one. "We accept with pleasure." The hasty efforts of the cook proved to be most attractive. And, as the Commissioners smacked their lips over the good Madeira wine, the mate of the _Creole_ dismissed the boat which had brought the stolid Commissioners to the side. "The tender of our brig will take your people ashore," said he to the coxswain. No sooner had this tender neared the shore, than the cable of the _Creole_ was slipped; she left her anchorage; and quickly drew out to sea in a fresh sou'westerly breeze. The unaccustomed rallying soon warned the Commissioners that the vessel was no longer at anchor, and, rushing to the deck, they saw--with dismay--that a full half mile of foam-flecked ocean lay between them and the island. "Ye Gods!" cried one, turning to Surcouf. "What mean you by this, sir?" The crafty Captain was smiling like the Cheshire cat. "You are now in my power," said he--very slowly and deliberately. "I am going to take you to the coast of Africa among your friends--the negroes. You seem to prefer them to the whites, so why not, pray? Meanwhile,--my kind sirs,--come below and take my orders." The Commissioners were flabbergasted. "Pirate!" cried one. "Thief!" cried another. "Scamp!" shouted the third. But they went below,--mumbling many an imprecation upon the head of the crafty Robert Surcouf. That night the wind freshened, the waves rose, and the good ship _Creole_ pitched and tossed upon them, like a leaf. The Committee-men were very ill, for they were landsmen, and Surcouf's smile expanded. "Take us ashore! Take us ashore!" cried one. "We _must_ get upon land." Surcouf even laughed. Everything was as he wished. "I will land you upon one condition only," said he. "Destroy the indictment against me and my ship. Write a document to the effect that you have found no traces of slaves upon my staunch craft. Say that my boat was driven from her anchor by a tidal wave--and you can put your feet upon solid ground." The three Commissioners scowled, but he had them. Besides they were sea-sick. In an hour's time, the desired paper had been drawn up. The _Creole_ was headed for the Mauritius,--and, in eight days, the sad but wiser Commissioners were brooding over the smartness of Robert Surcouf when seated in their own snug little homes. "He is a rascal," said one. "He's a slick and wily cur." So much reputation came to the young mariner--at this exploit--that he was soon offered the command of the _Emilie_: a privateer of one hundred and eighty tons and four guns. He accepted with glee, but when about to go to sea, the Governor refused him Letters of Marque. "What shall I do?" asked the crest-fallen Robert, approaching the owners of the trim and able craft. "Sail for the Seychelles (Islands off the east coast of Africa) for a cargo of turtles," said they. "If you fail to find these; fill up with corn, cotton and fruit. Fight shy of all English cruisers, and battle if you have to." Surcouf bowed. "I am not a regular privateer," he answered. "For I have no Letters of Marque. But I can defend myself if fired upon, and am an armed vessel in war-time. I may yet see some fighting." He was not to be disappointed. While at anchor at the Seychelles, two large and fat English men-of-war appeared in the offing. Surcouf had to run for it. Steering in among the many little islets, which here abound, he navigated the dangerous channels and got safely off, his men crying, "Voilà! Here is a genius. We did well to ship with such a master!" But the gallant Surcouf soon turned from privateer to pirate. South of the Bay of Bengal, a cyclone struck the _Emilie_ and she was steered for Rangoon, where-- "The flying fishes play, An' the dawn comes up like thunder, Outer China across the Bay." And here a British vessel steered for her: white-winged, saucy, vindictive-looking. She came on valiantly, and, when within a hundred yards, pumped a shot across the bow of the drowsing _Emilie_. It meant "Show your colors." Hoisting the red, white and blue of France, Surcouf replied with three scorching shots. One struck the Britisher amid-ships, and pumped a hole in her black boarding. Like a timid girl, the Englishman veered off, hoisted her topsail, and tried to get away. She saw that she had caught a tartar. The blood was up of the "Man from St. Malo." "I consider the shot across my bows as an attack," said he, and he slapped on every stitch of canvas, so that the _Emilie_ was soon abreast of the Britisher. _Boom!_ A broadside roared into her and she struck her colors. Bold Robert Surcouf had passed the Rubicon,--he had seen the English flag lowered to him, for the first time; and his heart swelled with patriotic pride, in spite of the fact that this was an act of piracy, for which he could be hanged to the yard-arm. "On! On!" cried Surcouf. "More captures! More prizes!" Three days later three vessels carrying rice fell into his hands,--one of which,--a pilot-brig--was appropriated in place of the _Emilie_, which had a foul, barnacled bottom and had lost her speed. The _Diana_, another rice-carrier--was also captured--and Robert Surcouf headed for the Mauritius: pleased and happy. A few days later, as the vessels pottered along off the river Hooghly, the cry came: "A large sail standing into Balasore Roads!" In a moment Surcouf had clapped his glass to his keen and searching eye. "An East Indiaman," said he. "And rich, I'll warrant. Ready about and make after her. She's too strong for us,--that I see--but we may outwit her." The vessel, in fact, was the _Triton_, with six-and-twenty guns and a strong crew. Surcouf had but nineteen men aboard, including the surgeon and himself, and a few Lascars,--natives. The odds were heavily against him, but his nerve was as adamant. "My own boat has been a pilot-brig. Up with the pilot flag!" he cried. As the little piece of bunting fluttered in the breeze, the _Triton_ hove to, and waited for him, as unsuspecting as could be. Surcouf chuckled. Nearer and nearer came his own vessel to the lolling Indiaman, and, as she rolled within hailing distance, the bold French sea-dog saw "_beaucoup de monde_"--a great crowd of people--upon the deck of the Englishman. "My lads!" cried he, turning to his crew. "This _Triton_ is very strong. We are only nineteen. Shall we try to take her by surprise and thus acquire both gain and glory? Or, do you prefer to rot in a beastly English prison-ship?" "Death or victory!" cried the Frenchmen. Surcouf smiled. "This ship shall either be our tomb, or the cradle of our glory," said he. "It is well!" The crew and passengers of the _Triton_ saw only a pilot-brig approaching, as these did habitually (to within twenty or thirty feet) in order to transfer the pilot. Suddenly a few uttered exclamations of surprise and dismay. The French colors rose to the mast of the sorrowful-looking pilot-boat, and with a flash and a roar, a heavy dose of canister and grape ploughed into the unsuspecting persons upon the deck of the Indiaman. Many sought shelter from the hail of iron. A moment more, and the brig was alongside. A crunching: a splitting of timber as the privateer struck and ground into the bulwarks of the _Triton_, and, with a wild yell--Surcouf leaped upon the deck of his adversary--followed by his eighteen men, with cutlass, dirks and pistols. There was but little resistance. The Captain of the _Triton_ seized a sword and made a vain attempt to stem the onslaught of the boarders, but he was immediately cut down. The rest were driven below, and the hatches clapped tight above them. In five minutes the affair was over, with five killed and six wounded upon the side of the English: one killed and one wounded among the French. Surcouf had made a master stroke. The _Triton_ was his own. The many prisoners were placed on board the _Diana_ and allowed to make their way to Calcutta, but the _Triton_ was triumphantly steered to the Mauritius, where Surcouf received a tremendous ovation. "Hurrah for Robert Surcouf: the sea-hound from St. Malo!" shrieked the townsfolk. "Your captures are all condemned," said the Governor of the island, a few days after his triumphant arrival. "For you sailed and fought not under a Letter of Marque, so you are a pirate and not a privateer. Those who go a-pirating must pay the piper. Your prizes belong to the Government of France, and its representative. I hereby seize them." Surcouf was nonplussed. "We will take this matter to France, itself," cried he. "And we shall see whether or no all my exertions shall go for nought." So the case was referred to the French courts, where Robert appeared in person to plead his cause. And the verdict was: "The captures of Captain Robert Surcouf of St. Malo are all declared 'good prize' and belong to him and the owners of his vessel." So the wild man from St. Malo was very happy, and he and his owners pocketed a good, round sum of money. But he really was a pirate and not a privateer. _Tenez!_ He had the money, at any rate, so why should he care? The remaining days of Robert's life were full of battle, and, just a little love, for he returned to his native town during the progress of the law-suit--in order to see his family and his friends, and there became engaged to Mlle. Marie Blaize, who was as good as she was pretty. But the sea sang a song which ran: "For men must work and women must weep, The home of a hero is on the deep." which the stout sea-dog could not resist. So he left the charming demoiselle without being married, and 'tis said that she wept bitterly. Now came his greatest exploit. On October 7th, 1800, the hardy mariner--in command of the _Confiance_; a new vessel with one hundred and thirty souls aboard--was cruising off the Indian coast. He had a Letter of Marque this time, so all would go well with him if he took a prize. The opportunity soon came. A sail was sighted early that day, and Surcouf scanned her carefully through his glass. [Illustration: "SURCOUF SCANNED HER CAREFULLY THROUGH HIS GLASS."] "She's a rich prize," said he. "An Indiaman. All hands on deck. Make sail! Drinks all round for the men! Clear for action!" He spoke this to himself, for he was aloft, and, climbing to the deck, ordered everybody aft to listen to a speech. When they had collected there, he said, with feeling: "I suppose each one of you is more than equal to one Englishman? Very good--be armed and ready for boarding--and, as it is going to be hot work, I'll give you one hour for pillage. You can fight, and, behind me, you should be invincible! Strike, and strike hard; and you will be rich." The _Kent_ had four hundred and thirty-seven souls aboard, says an old chronicler, for she had picked up a great part of the crew of the _Queen_: an East Indiaman which had been destroyed off the coast of Brazil. Her Captain's name was Rivington and he was a fellow of heroic courage. As the _Confiance_ drew near, the crew of the Englishman gave her a fair broadside and pumped gun after gun into her hull. But the Frenchman held her fire, and bore in close, in order to grapple. Hoarse shouts sounded above the roar of the guns and the splitting of timber, as the two war-dogs closed for action. The crew of the _Kent_ were poorly armed and undisciplined: they had never fought together. With Surcouf it was far different. His sailors were veterans--they had boarded many a merchantman and privateer before--and, they were well used to this gallant pastime. Besides, each had a boarding-axe, a cutlass,--pistol and a dagger--to say nothing of a blunderbuss loaded with six bullets, pikes fifteen feet long, and enormous clubs--all of this with "drinks all round" and the promise of pillage. No wonder they could fight! With a wild, ear-splitting whoop the wild men of the French privateer finally leaped over the rail--upon the deck of the Englishman--and there was fierce struggling for possession of her. At the head of his men, Rivington fought like a true Briton,--cutlass in hand, teeth clinched, eyes to the front. He was magnificent. But what could one man do against many? Back, back, the French forced the valiant lion, while his crew fell all about in tiers, and, at length, they drove him to the poop. He was bleeding from many a wound. He was fast sinking. "Don't give up the ship!" he cried, casting his eye aloft at the red ensign of his country. Then he fell upon his face, and the maddened followers of Surcouf swept over the decking like followers of Attila, the terrible Hun. "Spare the women!" shouted the French Captain above the din--and roar of battle. "Pillage; but spare the women!" It was well that he had spoken, for his cut-throats were wild with the heat of battle. In twenty minutes the _Kent_ was helpless; her crew were prisoners; and the saucy pennon of France fluttered where once had waved the proud ensign of Great Britain. Surcouf was happy. Landing the English prisoners in an Arab vessel, he arrived at the Mauritius with his prize in November, and soon took his doughty _Confiance_ to the low shores of France, catching a Portuguese merchant en route, and anchoring at La Rochelle, on April 13th, 1801. Rich, famous, respected; he now married the good Mlle. Marie Blaize, and became the owner of privateers and a respected citizen of the Fatherland. Fortune had favored this brave fellow. As a prosperous ship-owner and ship-builder of his native village--"the Sea-Hound of St. Malo"--closed his adventurous life in the year 1827. And when he quietly passed away, the good housewives used to mutter: "Look you! Here was a man who fought the English as well as they themselves could fight. He was a true son of William the Conqueror. Look you! This was a King of the Ocean!" And the gulls wheeled over the grave of the doughty sea-warrior, shrieking, "He-did-it! He-did-it! He-did-it!" THE CRY FROM THE SHORE Come down, ye greyhound mariners, Unto the wasting shore! The morning winds are up,--the Gods Bid me to dream no more. Come, tell me whither I must sail, What peril there may be, Before I take my life in hand And venture out to sea! _We may not tell thee where to sail,_ _Nor what the dangers are;_ _Each sailor soundeth for himself,_ _Each hath a separate star;_ _Each sailor soundeth for himself,_ _And on the awful sea,_ _What we have learned is ours alone;_ _We may not tell it thee._ Come back, O ghostly mariners, Ye who have gone before! I dread the dark, tempestuous tides; I dread the farthest shore. Tell me the secret of the waves; Say what my fate shall be,-- Quick! for the mighty winds are up, And will not wait for me. _Hail and farewell, O voyager!_ _Thyself must read the waves;_ _What we have learned of sun and storm_ _Lies with us in our graves;_ _What we have learned of sun and storm_ _Is ours alone to know._ _The winds are blowing out to sea,_ _Take up thy life and go!_ LAFITTE PRIVATEER, PIRATE, AND TERROR OF THE GULF OF MEXICO (1780-1826) "For it's fourteen men on a dead man's chest, Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum." --STEVENSON. LAFITTE PRIVATEER, PIRATE, AND TERROR OF THE GULF OF MEXICO (1780-1826) "He was the mildest mannered man, That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat; With such true breeding of a gentleman, That you could ne'er discern his proper thought. Pity he loved an adventurous life's variety, He was _so_ great a loss to good society." --_Old Ballad._--1810. "Captain, we can't live much longer unless we have food. We've got enough to last us for two weeks' time, and then--if we do not get fresh provisions--we'll have to eat the sails." The fellow who spoke was a rough-looking sea-dog, with a yellow face--parched and wrinkled by many years of exposure--a square figure; a red handkerchief tied about his black hair; a sash about his waist in which was stuck a brace of evil-barrelled pistols. He looked grimly at the big-boned man before him. "Yes. You are right, as usual, Gascon. We've got to strike a foreign sail before the week is out, and capture her. And I, Lafitte, must turn from privateer to pirate. May my good mother at St. Malo have mercy on my soul." And, so saying, he turned to pace restlessly upon the sloping deck of the two-hundred-ton barque which boiled along under a spread of bellying canvas, and was guided by the keen eye of this youthful mariner. He came from the same little town in France which sheltered the good mother of Du Guay-Trouin, the great French "blue." His name was Jean Lafitte. This sea-rover had been born in 1781, and had taken to the ocean at the age of thirteen, when most boys are going to boarding-school. After several voyages in Europe, and to the coast of Africa, he was appointed mate of a French East Indiaman, bound to Madras in India. But things did not go any too well with the sturdy ship; a heavy gale struck her off the Cape of Good Hope; she sprung her mainmast, and--flopping along like a huge sea-turtle--staggered into the port of St. Thomas in the island of Mauritius, off the east coast of Africa. "Here," said young Lafitte to his Captain, "is where I leave you, for you are a bully, a braggart, and a knave." And, so saying, he cut for shore in the jolly-boat, but--if the truth must be known--Lafitte and the Captain were too much alike to get on together. They both wished to "be boss." Like magnets do not attract, but repel. Luck was with the young deserter. Several privateers were being fitted out at the safe port of St. Thomas and he was appointed Captain of one of them. Letters of Marque were granted by the Governor of the Mauritius. "Ah ha!" cried the youthful adventurer. "Now I can run things to suit myself. And I'll grow rich." This he speedily succeeded in doing, for, in the course of his cruise, he robbed several vessels which came in his path, and, stopping at the Seychelles (Islands off the eastern coast of Africa), took on a load of slaves for the port of St. Thomas. Thus he had descended--not only to piracy--but also to slave catching; the lowest depths to which a seaman could come down. When four days out from the curiously named islands, a cry went up from the watch, "Sail ho! Off the port bow! A British frigate, by much that's good, and she's after us with all speed!" To which bold Lafitte answered, "Then, we must run for it!" But he hoisted every bit of canvas which he had about and headed for the Bay of Bengal. "And," said he, "if she does not catch us and we get away, we'll take an English merchantman and burn her." Then he laughed satirically. The British frigate plodded along after the lighter vessel of Lafitte's until the Equator was reached, and then she disappeared,--disgruntled at not being able to catch the saucy tartar. But the privateersman headed for the blue Bay of Bengal; there fell in with an English armed schooner with a numerous crew; and--although he only had two guns and twenty-six men aboard his own vessel--he tackled the sailors from the chilly isle like a terrier shaking a rat. There was a stiff little fight upon the shimmering waves of the Indian Ocean. When night descended the Britisher had struck and nineteen blood-stained ruffians from the privateer took possession of the battered hulk, singing a song which ran: "For it's fourteen men on a dead man's chest, Yo-Ho-Ho and a bottle of rum." Lafitte was now feeling better; his men had been fed; he had good plunder; and he possessed two staunch, little craft. "Let's bear away for India, my Hearties," cried he, "and we'll hit another Englishman and take her." What he had said soon came to pass, for, when off the hazy, low-lying coast of Bengal, a rakish East Indiaman came lolling by, armed with twenty-six twelve-pounders and manned with one hundred and fifty men. A bright boarding upon her stern-posts flaunted the truly Eastern name: the _Pagoda_. The dull-witted Britishers had no suspicions of the weak, Puritan-looking, little two-'undred tonner of Lafitte's, as she glided in close; luffed; and bobbed about, as a voice came: "Sa-a-y! Want a pilot fer the Ganges?" There was no reply for a while. Then a voice shrilled back, "Come up on th' port quarter. That's just what we've been lookin' for." The fat _Pagoda_ ploughed listlessly onward, as the unsuspicious-looking pilot plodded up on the port side; in fact, most of the crew were dozing comfortably under awnings on the deck, when a shot rang out. Another and another followed, and, with a wild, ear-splitting whoop, the followers of Lafitte clambered across the rail; dirks in their mouths; pistols in their right hands, and cutlasses in their left. Now was a short and bloodless fight. Taken completely by surprise, the Englishmen threw up their hands and gave in only too willingly. With smiles of satisfaction upon their faces, the seamen of the bad man from St. Malo soon hauled two kegs of spirits upon the decks, and held high revel upon the clean boarding of the rich and valuable prize. The _Pagoda_ was re-christened _The Pride of St. Malo_, and soon went off privateering upon her own hook; while Lafitte headed back for St. Thomas: well-fed--even sleek with good living--and loaded down with the treasure which he had taken. "Ah-ha!" cried the black-haired navigator. "I am going to be King of the Indian waters." Now came the most bloody and successful of his battles upon the broad highway of the gleaming, southern ocean. Taking command of the _La Confidence_ of twenty-six guns and two hundred and fifty men, whom he found at the port of St. Thomas, he again headed for the coast of British India; keen in the expectation of striking a valuable prize. And his expectations were well fulfilled. In October, 1807, the welcome cry of "Sail Ho!" sounded from the forward watch, when off the Sand Heads, and there upon the starboard bow was a spot of white, which proved to be a Queen's East Indiaman, with a crew of near four hundred. She carried forty guns. There were double the number of cannon, there were double the number of men, but Lafitte cried out: "I came out to fight and I'm going to do it, comrades! You see before you a vessel which is stronger than our own, but, with courage and nerve, we can beat her. I will run our own ship close to the enemy. You must lie down behind the protecting sides of our vessel until we touch the stranger. Then--when I give the signal to board--let each man seize a cutlass, a dirk, and two pistols, and strike down all that oppose him. We _must_ and _can_ win!" These stirring words were greeted by a wild and hilarious cheer. Now, running upon the port tack, the _La Confidence_ bore down upon the Britisher with the water boiling under her bows; while the stranger luffed, and prepared for action. Shrill cries sounded from her huge carcass as her guns were loaded and trained upon the on-coming foe, while her masts began to swarm with sharpshooters eager to pick off the ravenous sea-dogs from the Mauritius. Suddenly a terrific roar sounded above the rattle of ropes and creak of hawsers--and a broadside cut into the _La Confidence_ with keen accuracy. "Lie flat upon the deck," cried Lafitte, "and dodge the iron boys if you can see 'em." His men obeyed, and, as the missiles pounded into the broad sides of their ship, the steersman ran her afoul of the Queen's East Indiaman. When he did so, many sailors swarmed into the rigging, and from the yards and tops threw bombs and grenades into the forecastle of the enemy, so that death and terror made the Britishers abandon the portion of their vessel near the mizzen-mast. "Forty of the crew will now board," cried Lafitte. "And let every mother's son strike home!" With pistols in their hands and daggers held between their teeth, the wild sea-rovers rollicked across the gunwales like a swarm of rats. Dancing up the deck of the Britisher they beat back all who opposed them, driving them below into the steerage. Shots rang out like spitting cats; dirks gleamed; and cutlasses did awful execution. But the Captain of the Indiaman was rallying his men about him on the poop, and, with a wild cheer, these precipitated themselves upon the victorious privateers. "Board! Board!" cried Lafitte, at this propitious moment, and, cutlass in hand, he leaped from his own vessel upon the deck of the East Indiaman. His crew followed with a yelp of defiant hatred, and beat the Captain's party back again upon the poop, where they stood stolidly, cursing at the rough sea-riders from St. Thomas. But Lafitte was a general not to be outdone by such a show of force. He ordered a gun to be loaded with grape-shot; had it pointed towards the place where the crowd was assembled; and cried-- "If you don't give in now, I'll exterminate all of you at one discharge of my piece." It was the last blow. Seeing that it was useless to continue the unequal struggle, the British Captain held up his long cutlass, to which was bound a white handkerchief, and the great sea battle was over. Lafitte and his terrible crew had captured a boat of double the size of his own, and with twice his numbers. Says an old chronicler of the period: "This exploit, hitherto unparalleled, resounded through India, and the name of Lafitte became the terror of English commerce in these latitudes. The British vessels now traversed the Indian Ocean under strong convoys, in order to beat off this harpy of South Africa." "Egad," said Lafitte about this time, "these fellows are too smart for me. I'll have to look for other pickings. I'm off for France." So he doubled the Cape of Good Hope, coasted up the Gulf of Guinea, and, in the Bight of Benin, took two valuable prizes loaded down with gold dust, ivory, and palm oil. With these he ran to St. Malo, where the people said: "Tenez! Here is a brave fellow, but would you care to have his reputation, Monsieur?" And they shook their heads, shrugged their shoulders, and looked the other way when they saw him coming. The privateersman, slaver, and pirate was not going to be long with them, however, for he soon fitted out a brigantine, mounted twenty guns on her, and with one hundred and fifty men, sailed for Guadaloupe, among the West Indies. He took several valuable prizes, but, during his absence upon a cruise, the island was captured by the British, so he started for a more congenial clime. He roved about for some months, to settle at last at Barrataria, near New Orleans, Louisiana. He was rich; he had amassed great quantities of booty; and he was a man of property. Lafitte, in fact, was a potentate. "Now," said the privateer and pirate, "I will settle down and found a colony." But can a man of action keep still? It is true that Lafitte was not as bold and audacious as before, for he was now obliged to have dealings with merchants of the United States and the West Indies who frequently owed him large sums of money, and the cautious transactions necessary to found and to conduct a colony of pirates and smugglers in the very teeth of civilization, made the black-haired Frenchman cloak his real character under a veneer of supposed gentility. Hundreds of privateers, pirates, and smugglers gathered around the banner of this robber of the high seas. But what is Barrataria? Part of the coast of Louisiana is called by that name: that part lying between Bastien Bay on the east, and the mouth of the wide river, or bayou of La Fourche, on the west. Not far from the rolling, sun-baked Atlantic are the lakes of Barrataria, connecting with one another by several large bayous and a great number of branches. In one of these is the Island of Barrataria, while this sweet-sounding name is also given to a large basin which extends the entire length of the cypress swamps, from the Gulf of Mexico, to a point three miles above New Orleans. The waters from this lake slowly empty into the Gulf by two passages through the Bayou Barrataria, between which lies an island called Grand Terre: six miles in length, and three in breadth, running parallel with the coast. To the West of this is the great pass of Barrataria, where is about nine to ten feet of water: enough to float the ordinary pirate or privateersman's vessel. Within this pass--about two miles from the open sea--lies the only safe harbor upon the coast, and this is where the cut-throats, pirates, and smugglers gathered under Lafitte. They called themselves _Barratarians_, and they were a godless crew. At a place called Grand Terre, the privateers would often make public sale of their cargoes and prizes by auction. And the most respectable inhabitants of the State were accustomed to journey there in order to purchase the goods which the _Barratarians_ had to offer. They would smile, and say, "We are going to get some of the treasure of Captain Kidd." But the Government of the United States did not take so kindly to the idea of a privateer and pirate colony within its borders. And--with malice aforethought--one Commodore Patterson was sent to disperse these marauders at Barrataria, who, confident of their strength and fighting ability, defiantly flaunted their flag in the faces of the officers of the Government. "We can lick the whole earth," chuckled the piratical followers of Lafitte. Patterson was a good fighter. On June the eleventh he departed from New Orleans with seventy members of the 44th regiment of infantry. On the sixteenth he made for the Island of Barrataria, with some six gun-boats, a launch mounting one twelve pound carronade; the _Sea Horse_ (a tender carrying one six-pounder) and the schooner _Carolina_. "We must fight, Boys," cried Lafitte to his ill-assorted mates. "Come, take to our schooners and show these officers that the followers of Lafitte can battle like Trojans." A cheer greeted these noble sentiments. "Lead on!" yelled his cut-throats. "Lead on and we'll sink these cocky soldiers as we've done to many an East Indiaman!" So, about two o'clock in the afternoon, the privateers and pirates formed their vessels, ten in number (including their prizes) near the entrance of the harbor. _Crash!_ A shell from the forward gun of the leading gun-boat spun across the bows of Lafitte's flagship and buried itself in the gray water with a dull sob. Up went a huge white flag upon the foremost mast-head of the king pirate and these words could be plainly seen: "Pardon for all Deserters." "Ah, ha," chuckled Patterson. "The arch ruffian has heard that some of my men are ashore and this is the way he would hire them." _Crash!_ Another shell ricochetted across the still surface of the harbor and sunk itself in the side of a piratical brig. "Hello!" cried a Lieutenant, running up to the United States Commander. "They're giving up already. See! The beggars are hastening ashore in order to skip into the woods." "I'm afraid so," answered the disappointed Commodore. "All my pains for nothing. The fellows are getting away." Sure enough--afraid to remain and fight it out--the craven followers of Lafitte now turned their schooners to the shore--ran their bows into the sand, and, leaping overboard, made into the forest as fast as their legs could carry them. Thus--without firing a shot--the cowardly pirates of Barrataria "took to the bush." "The enemy had mounted on their vessels, twenty pieces of cannon of different calibre," wrote Patterson, after this tame affair. "And, as I have since learnt, they had from eight hundred to one thousand men of all nations and colors. When I perceived the pirates forming their vessels into a line of battle I felt confident, from their fleet and very advantageous position, and their number of men, that they would have fought me. Their not doing so I regret; for had they, I should have been enabled more effectually to destroy or make prisoners of them and their leaders; but it is a subject of great satisfaction to me, to have effected the object of my enterprise, without the loss of a man. On the afternoon of the 23rd, I got under way with my whole squadron, in all seventeen vessels, but during the night one escaped and the next day I arrived at New Orleans with my entire command." Thus ended the magnificent (?) attempt of the vainglorious Lafitte to stem the advance of the Government of the United States. In the parlance of the camp, "He was a fust-class quitter." But he did not show himself to be a "quitter" in the battle of New Orleans. The English and Americans, in fact, were soon at each other's throats in the ungentle game of war. At different times the British had sought to attack the pirates of Barrataria, in the hope of taking their prizes and armed vessels. On June 23rd, 1813, while two of Lafitte's privateers were lying to off of Cat Island, an English sloop-of-war came to anchor at the entrance of the pass, and sent out two boats in the endeavor to capture the rakish sea-robbers. But they were repulsed with severe and galling loss. On the 2nd of September, 1814, an armed brig appeared on the coast, opposite the famous pass to the home of the rangers of the sea. She fired a gun at a smuggler, about to enter, and forced her to poke her nose into a sand-bar; she then jibed over and came to anchor at the entrance to the shallows. "That vessel means business, sure," said one of the pirates to Lafitte. "She has spouted one gun, but now she's lyin' to. Better see what's up." "You're right," answered the famous sea-rover. "We'll go off in a boat and look out for what's going to happen." So, starting from the shore, he was soon on his way to the brig, from which a pinnace was lowered, in which could be seen two officers, one of whom had a flag of truce. The two boats rapidly neared each other. "Where is Mr. Lafitte?" cried one of the Britishers, as the pinnace neared the shore. "I would speak with the Laird of Barrataria." But Lafitte was not anxious to make himself known. "He's ashore," said he. "But, if you have communications for him, these I can deliver." "Pray, give him these packages, my good man," spoke the English tar, handing him a bundle of letters, tied up in tarpaulin. Lafitte smiled. "I would be delighted to do so," he replied. "But, pray come ashore and there I will return you your answer after I have seen the great Captain, who is camping about a league inland." The Britishers readily assented, and both rowed towards the sandy beach, where a great number of pirates of Barrataria had collected. As soon as the boats were in shallow water, Lafitte made himself known to the English, saying: "Do not let my men know upon what business you come, for it will go ill with you. My followers know that war is now on between Great Britain and the United States, and, if they hear you are making overtures with me, they will wish to hang you." It was as he had said. When the Englishmen landed, a great cry went up amongst the privateers, pirates and smugglers: "Hang the spies! Kill the dirty dogs! To the yard-arm with the rascally Englishmen! Send the hounds to New Orleans and to jail!" But Lafitte dissuaded the multitude from their intent and led the officers in safety to his dwelling, where he opened the package, finding a proclamation addressed to the inhabitants of Louisiana, by Col. Edward Nichalls--British commander of the land forces in this state--requesting them to come under the sheltering arm of the British Government. There were also two letters to himself, asking him to join and fight with the English. "If you will but battle with us," said Captain Lockyer--one of the British officers--"we will give you command of a forty-four gun frigate, and will make you a Post Captain. You will also receive thirty thousand dollars,--payable at Pensacola." Lafitte looked dubiously at him. "I will give answer in a few days," he replied, with courtesy. "You are a Frenchman," continued the British Captain. "You are not in the service of the United States, nor likely to be. Come--man--give us a reply at once." Captain Lafitte was obdurate, for--strange as it may seem--he wished to inform the officers of the State Government of this project of the English. So he withdrew to his own hut. As he did this, the pirates seized the British officers, dragged them to a cabin, and thrust them inside. A guard was stationed at the door, while cries went up from every quarter: "To New Orleans with the scoundrels! A yard-arm for the butchers! A rope's end for the scurvy tars!" Lafitte was furious when he learned of this, and, after haranguing the crowd, had the Britishers released. "If you treat men under a flag of truce as prisoners," he cried, "you break one of the first rules of warfare. You will get the same treatment if you, yourselves, are captured, and you will lose the opportunity of discovering what are the projects of the British upon Louisiana." His men saw the good sense of these words of advice, and acted accordingly. Early the next morning the officers were escorted to their pinnace with many apologies from Lafitte, who now wrote a letter to Captain Lockyer, which shows him to have been a man of considerable cultivation, and not a mere "rough and tumble" pirate--without education or refinement. He said: "BARRATARIA, 4th Sept., 1814. "TO CAPTAIN LOCKYER, "SIR:--The confusion which prevailed in our camp yesterday and this morning, and of which you have a complete knowledge, has prevented me from answering in a precise manner to the object of your mission; nor even at this moment can I give you all the satisfaction that you desire. However, if you could grant me a fortnight, I would be entirely at your disposal at the end of that time. "This delay is indispensable to enable me to put my affairs in order. You may communicate with me by sending a boat to the Eastern point of the pass, where I will be found. You have inspired me with more confidence than the Admiral--your superior officer--could have done, himself. With you alone I wish to deal, and from you, also, I will claim in due time, the reward of the services which I may render you. "Your very respectful servant, "J. LAFITTE." His object in writing this letter--you see--was, by appearing to accede to the proposals, to give time to communicate the affair to the officers of the State Government of Louisiana and to receive from them instructions how to act, under circumstances so critical and important to his own country: that is, the country of his adoption. He, therefore, addressed the following epistle to the Governor of Louisiana. Do you think that you, yourself, could write as well as did this pirate? "BARRATARIA, Sept. 4th, 1814. "TO GOVERNOR CLAIBORNE: "SIR:--In the firm persuasion that the choice made of you to fill the office of first magistrate of this State, was dictated by the esteem of your fellow citizens, and was conferred on merit, I confidently address you on an affair on which may depend the safety of this country. "I offer to you to restore to this State several citizens, who perhaps, in your eyes, have lost that sacred title. I offer you them, however, such as you could wish to find them, ready to exert their utmost efforts in the defence of the country. "This point of Louisiana, which I occupy, is of great importance in the present crisis. I tender my services to defend it; and the only reward I ask is that a stop be put to the proscription against me and my adherents, by an act of oblivion, for all that has been done heretofore. "I am the stray sheep wishing to return to the fold. "If you are thoroughly acquainted with the nature of my offences, I should appear to you much less guilty, and still worthy to discharge the duties of a good citizen. I have never sailed under any flag but the republic of Carthagena, and my vessels were perfectly regular in that respect. "If I could have brought my lawful prizes into the ports of this State, I should not have employed illicit means that have caused me to be proscribed (hounded by the State authorities). "I decline to say more upon this subject until I have your Excellency's answer, which I am persuaded can be dictated only by wisdom. Should your answer not be favorable to my ardent desire, I declare to you that I will instantly leave the country, to avoid the imputation of having coöperated towards an invasion on this point, which cannot fail to take place, and to rest secure in the acquittal of my conscience. "I have the honor to be, "Your Excellency's Most Humble Servant, "J. LAFITTE." Now how is that for a swashbuckling privateer? Anyone would be proud of such a letter and it does honor to the judgment of this sand-spit king, giving clear evidence of a strange but sincere attachment to the American cause. Hurrah for the Frenchman! This missive, in fact, made such an impression upon the Governor that he had an interview with Lafitte, who was ushered into his presence only to find General Andrew Jackson (Old Hickory) closeted with the chief executive. "My dear sir," said the effusive Governor. "Your praiseworthy wishes shall be laid before the council of the State, and I will confer with my august friend, here present, upon this important affair, and send you an answer." Bowing low, the courteous privateersman withdrew. "Farewell," cried Old Hickory after his retreating form. "When we meet again I trust that it will be in the ranks of the American Army." And in two days' time appeared the following proclamation: "The Governor of Louisiana, informed that many individuals implicated in the offences hitherto committed against the United States at Barrataria, express a willingness at the present crisis to enroll themselves and march against the enemy. "He does hereby invite them to join the standard of the United States, and is authorized to say, should their conduct in the field meet the approbation of the Major General, that that officer will unite with the Governor in a request to the President of the United States, to extend to each and every individual, so marching and acting, a free and full pardon." When Lafitte saw these words, he fairly yelled with delight, and it is said that he jumped into the air, cracking his heels three times together before he struck the ground. The orders were circulated among his followers and most of them readily embraced the pardon which they held out. Thus--in a few days--many brave men and skillful artillerists flocked to the red-white-and-blue standard of the United States. And when--a few months afterwards--Old Hickory and his men were crouched behind a line of cotton bales, awaiting the attack of a British army (heroes, in fact, of Sargossa), there, upon the left flank, was the sand-spit King and his evil crew. Lafitte's eyes were sparkling like an electric bulb, and the language of his followers does not bear repetition. It was the morning of January eighth. The British were about to attack the American Army defending New Orleans, which--under the leadership of stout Andrew Jackson--now crouched behind the earthworks and cotton bales, some miles from the city. Rockets shot into the air with a sizzling snap. The roar of cannon shook the thin palmettos, and wild British cheers came from the lusty throats of the British veterans of Spain, as they advanced to the assault in close order--sixty men in front--with fascines and ladders for scaling the defences. Now a veritable storm of rockets hissed and sizzed into the American lines, while a light battery of artillery pom-pomed and growled upon the left flank. All was silence in the dun-colored embankments. But look! Suddenly a sheet of flame burst from the earthworks where lay the buck-skin-clad rangers from Tennessee and Kentucky: men who had fought Indians; had cleared the forest for their rude log huts, and were able to hit the eye of a squirrel at one hundred yards. _Crash! Crash! Crash!_ A flame of fire burst through the pall of sulphurous smoke, a storm of leaden missiles swept into the red coats of the advancing British, and down they fell in windrows, like wheat before the reaper. _Boom! Boom! Boom!_ The cannon growled and spat from the cotton bales, and one of these--a twenty-four pounder--placed upon the third embrasure from the river, from the fatal skill and activity with which it was managed (even in the best of battle),--drew the admiration of both Americans and British. It became one of the points most dreaded by the advancing foe. _Boom! Boom!_ It grumbled and roared its thunder, while Lafitte and his corsairs of Barrataria rammed home the iron charges, and--stripped to the waist--fought like wolves at bay. Two other batteries were manned by the Barratarians, who served their pieces with the steadiness and precision of veteran gunners. The enemy crept closer, ever closer, and a column pushed forward between the levee and the river so precipitously that the outposts were forced to retire, closely pressed by the coats of red. On, on, they came, and, clearing the ditch before the earthworks, gained the redoubt through the embrasures, leaped over the parapet and quickly bayonetted the small force of backwoodsmen who held this point. "To the rescue, men," cried Lafitte, at this juncture. "Out and at 'em!" Cutlass in hand, the privateer called a few of his best followers to his side; men who had often boarded the decks of an East Indiaman and were well used to hand-to-hand engagements. With a wild cheer they leaped over the breastworks and rushed upon the enemy. The British were absolutely astonished at the intrepidity of this advance. Pistols spat, cutlasses swung, and one after another, the English officers fell before the snapping blade of the King of Barrataria, as they bravely cheered on their men. The practiced boarders struck the red-coated columns with the same fierceness with which they had often bounded upon the deck of an enemy, and cheer after cheer welled above the rattle of arms as the advancing guardsmen were beaten back. All the energies of the British were concentrated upon scaling the breastworks, which one daring officer had already mounted. But Lafitte and his followers, seconding a gallant band of volunteer riflemen, formed a phalanx which it was impossible to penetrate. They fought desperately. It was now late in the day. The field was strewn with the dead and dying. Still spat the unerring rifles of the pioneers and still crashed the unswerving volleys from their practiced rifles. "We cannot take the works," cried the British. "We must give up." And--turning about--they beat a sad and solemn retreat to their vessels. The great battle of New Orleans was over, and Lafitte had done a Trojan's share. In a few days peace was declared between the United States and Great Britain, and General Jackson--in his correspondence with the Secretary of War--did not fail to speak in the most flattering terms of the conduct of the "Corsairs of Barrataria." They had fought like tigers, and they had been sadly misjudged by the English, who wished to enlist them in their own cause. Their zeal, their courage, and their skill, were noticed by the whole American Army, who could no longer stigmatize such desperate fighters as "criminals." Many had been sabred and wounded in defence of New Orleans, and many had given up their lives before the sluggish bayous of the Mississippi. And now, Mr. Lafitte, it is high time that you led a decent life, for are you not a hero? But "murder will out," and once a privateer always a privateer, and sometimes a pirate. Securing some fast sailing vessels, the King of Barrataria sailed to Galveston Bay, in 1819, where he received a commission from General Long as a "privateer." Not content with living an honest and peaceful life, he proceeded to do a little smuggling and illicit trading upon his own account, so it was not long before a United States cruiser was at anchor off the port to watch his movements. He was now Governor of Galveston, and considered himself to be a personage of great moment. Five vessels were generally cruising under his orders, while three hundred men obeyed his word. Texas was then a Republic. "Sir"--wrote Lafitte to the Commander of the American cruiser off the port of Galveston--"I am convinced that you are a cruiser of the navy, ordered here by your Government. I have, therefore, deemed it proper to inquire into the cause of your lying before this port without communicating your intention. I wish to inform you that the port of Galveston belongs to and is in the possession of the Republic of Texas, and was made a port of entry the 9th day of October, last. And, whereas the Supreme Congress of the said Republic have thought proper to appoint me as Governor of this place, in consequence of which, if you have any demands on said Government, you will please to send an officer with such demands, who will be treated with the greatest politeness. But, if you are ordered, or should attempt, to enter this port in a hostile manner, my oath and duty to the Government compel me to rebut your intentions at the expense of my life. "Yours very respectfully, "J. LAFITTE." But to this the American officer paid no attention. Instead, he attacked a band of Lafitte's followers, who had stationed themselves on an island near Barrataria with several cannon, swearing that they would perish rather than surrender to any man. As they had committed piracy, they were open to assault. Twenty were taken, tried at New Orleans, and hung,--the rest escaped into the cypress swamps, where it was impossible to arrest them. When Lafitte heard of this, he said with much feeling: "A war of extermination is to be waged against me. I, who have fought and bled for the United States. I who helped them to win the battle of New Orleans. My cruisers are to be swept from the sea. I must turn from Governor of Galveston, and privateer to pirate. Then--away--and let them catch me if they can." Now comes the last phase of his career. Too bad that he could not have died honestly! Procuring a large and fast-sailing brigantine, mounting sixteen guns, and having selected a crew of one hundred and sixty men, the desperate and dangerous Governor of Galveston set sail upon the sparkling waters of the Gulf, determined to rob all nations and neither to give quarter nor to receive it. But luck was against him. A British sloop-of-war was cruising in the Mexican Gulf, and, hearing that Lafitte, himself, was at sea, kept a sharp lookout at the mast-head for the sails of the pirate. One morning as an officer was sweeping the horizon with his glass he discovered a long, dark-looking vessel, low in the water: her sails as white as snow. "Sail off the port bow," cried he. "It's the Pirate, or else I'm a landlubber." As the sloop-of-war could out-sail the corsair, before the wind, she set her studding-sails and crowded every inch of canvas in chase. Lafitte soon ascertained the character of his pursuer, and, ordering the awnings to be furled, set his big square-sail and shot rapidly through the water. But the breeze freshened and the sloop-of-war rapidly overhauled the scudding brigantine. In an hour's time she was within hailing distance and Lafitte was in a fight for his very life. _Crash!_ A cannon belched from the stern of the pirate and a ball came dangerously near the bowsprit of the Englishman. _Crash! Crash!_ Other guns roared out their challenge and the iron fairly hailed upon the decks of the sloop-of-war; killing and wounding many of the crew. But--silently and surely--she kept on until within twenty yards of the racing outlaw. Now was a deafening roar. A broadside howled above the dancing spray--it rumbled from the port-holes of the Englishman--cutting the foremast of the pirate in two; severing the jaws of the main-gaff; and sending great clods of rigging to the deck. Ten followers of Lafitte fell prostrate, but the great Frenchman was uninjured. A crash, a rattle, a rush, and the Englishman ran afoul of the foe--while--with a wild cheer, her sailors clambered across the starboard rails; cutlasses in the right hand, pistols in the left, dirks between their teeth. "Never give in, men!" cried the King of Barrataria. "You are now with Lafitte, who, as you have learned, does not know how to surrender." But the Britishers were in far superior numbers. Backwards--ever backwards--they drove the desperate crew of the pirate ship. Two pistol balls struck Lafitte in the side which knocked him to the planking; a grape-shot broke the bone of his right leg; he was desperate, dying, and fighting like a tiger. He groaned in the agony of despair. The deck was slippery with blood as the Captain of the boarders rushed upon the prostrate corsair to put him forever out of his way. While he aimed a blow a musket struck him in the temple, stretching him beside the bleeding Lafitte, who, raising himself upon one elbow, thrust a dagger at the throat of his assailant. But the tide of his existence was ebbing like a torrent; his brain was giddy; his aim faltered; the point of the weapon descended upon the right thigh of the bleeding Englishman. Again the reeking steel was upheld; again the weakened French sea-dog plunged a stroke at this half-fainting assailant. The dizziness of death spread over the sight of the Monarch of the Gulf of Mexico. Down came the dagger into the left thigh of the Captain; listlessly; helplessly; aimlessly; and Lafitte--the robber of St. Malo--fell lifeless upon the rocking deck. His spirit went out amidst the hoarse and hollow cheers of the victorious Jack-tars of the clinging sloop-of-war. "The palmetto leaves are whispering, while the gentle trade-winds blow, And the soothing, Southern zephyrs, are sighing soft and low, As a silvery moonlight glistens, and the droning fire-flies glow, Comes a voice from out the Cypress, 'Lights out! Lafitte! Heave ho!'" THE PIRATE'S LAMENT I've been ploughin' down in Devonshire, My folks would have me stay, Where the wheat grows on th' dune side, Where th' scamperin' rabbits play. But th' smells come from th' ocean, An' th' twitterin' swallows wheel, As th' little sails bob landwards, To th' scurryin' sea-gulls' squeal. _Oh, it's gold, gold, gold,_ _That's temptin' me from here._ _An' it's rum, rum, rum,_ _That makes me know no fear._ _When th' man-o-war is growlin',_ _As her for'ard swivels roar,_ _As th' decks are black with wounded,_ _An' are runnin' red with gore._ I've been goin' to church o' Sundays, An' th' Parson sure can talk, He's been pleadin' for my soul, Sir, In Paradise to walk. An' I kind o' have th' shivers, Come creepin' down my spine, When th' choir breaks into music, While th' organ beats th' time. _But it's gold, gold, gold,_ _That glitters in my eye,_ _An' it's rum, rum, rum,_ _That makes me cheat an' lie,_ _When th' slaver's in th' doldrums,_ _Th' fleet is closin' round,_ _An' th' Captain calls out, furious,_ _"Now, run th' hound aground!"_ No matter how I farm, Sir, No matter how I hoe, Th' breezes from th' blue, Sir, Just kind uv make me glow. When th' clipper ships are racin', An' their bellyin' sails go past, I just leave my team an' swear, Sir, I'll ship before th' mast. _For it's gold, gold, gold,_ _That makes me shiver, like,_ _An' it's rum, rum, rum,_ _That makes me cut an' strike,_ _When th' boarders creep across th' rail,_ _Their soljers all in line,_ _An' their pistols spittin' lead, Sir,_ _Like er bloomin' steam engine._ So I'll kiss my plough good-bye, Sir, I'll throw my scythe away, An' I'm goin' to th' dock, Sir, Where th' ships are side th' quay. Shake out th' skull an' cross-bones, Take out th' signs of Marque, An' let's cut loose an' forage, In a rakish ten-gun barque. THE MEN BEHIND THE GUNS A cheer and salute for the Admiral, and here's to the Captain bold, And never forget the Commodore's debt, when the deeds of might are told! They stand to the deck through the battle's wreck, when the great shells roar and screech-- And never they fear; when the foe is near, to practice what they preach: But, off with your hat, and three times three, for the war-ship's true-blue sons, The men who batter the foe--my Boys--the men behind the guns. Oh, light and merry of heart are they, when they swing into port, once more, When, with more than enough of the "green-backed stuff," they start for their leave-o'-shore; And you'd think, perhaps, that these blue-bloused chaps who loll along the street, Are a tender bit, with salt on it, for some fierce chap to eat-- Some warrior bold, with straps of gold, who dazzles and fairly stuns The modest worth of the sailor boys,--the lads who serve the guns. But, say not a word, till the shot is heard, that tells of the peace-blood's ebb, Till the long, low roar grows more and more, from the ships of the "Yank" and "Reb." Till over the deep the tempests sweep, of fire and bursting shell, And the very air is a mad Despair, in the throes of a living Hell: Then, down, deep down, in the mighty ship, unseen by the mid-day suns, You'll find the chaps who are giving the raps--the men behind the guns. --ROONEY (_Adapted_). RAPHAEL SEMMES DESPOILER OF AMERICAN COMMERCE (1809-1877) "Sit apart, write; let them hear or let them forbear; the written word abides, until, slowly and unexpectedly, and in widely sundered places, it has created its own church."--RALPH WALDO EMERSON. RAPHAEL SEMMES DESPOILER OF AMERICAN COMMERCE (1809-1877) "We started from Ole England fer to cripple up our foes, We started from Ole England fer to strike some rapid blows, So we coasted to the Azores where we ran a packet down, And then to the Bermudas, where we burned the _Royal Crown_, Then we scampered to Bahia, fer to sink the gay _Tycoon_, And to scuttle the _Justina_, before the Harvest Moon. We hit across the ocean to race by Cape Good Hope And in Madagascar channel towed _Johanna_ with a rope. Away off at Sumatra, we had lots an' lots uv fun, When we winged the _Pulo Condor_; but say,--we had a run, An' a pretty bit uv fightin', when we took the _Emma Jane_ Off th' heated coast uv India, near th' bendin' sugar cane. Yes, we did some privateerin', as wuz privateerin', sure, An' we scuttled many a schooner, it wuz risky business pure. But--stranger--we'd be laughin', jest filled with persiflage, If we hadn't had a seance with that bloomin' _Kearsarge_." --_Song of the Chief Mate of the Alabama._--1864. It was off the east coast of South America. The year was 1864, and a little schooner--the _Justina_--bobbed along, with the flag of the United States Government flying jauntily from her gaff. Suddenly there was a movement on deck. Men rushed hither and thither with some show of excitement. Glasses were brought out and raised,--smothered cries of excitement were mingled with orders to trim sails. All eyes looked with suspicion and dismay at a long, graceful vessel which was seen approaching from the northward. "The _Alabama_!" cried one. "Yes, the cursed _Alabama_!" answered another. "We are lost!" On, on came the pursuing vessel; a cloud of black smoke rolling from her smoke-stack; her white sails bellying in the fresh breeze; for she was rigged like a barquentine, with a lean body, single smoke-stack, and a polished rifle-gun winking in the sun-rays upon her bow. On, on, she came, and then--_puff! boom!_--a single shot came dancing in front of the slow-moving schooner. "Pull down the colors!" shouted the Captain of the _Justina_. "We're done for!" Down came the ensign of the United States, and the little schooner was luffed so that she stood still. The _Alabama_ ranged up alongside, a boat soon brought a crew of boarders, and, before many moments, she was in the hands of Captain Raphael Semmes and his men. That evening the _Alabama_ steamed southward, the crew of the _Justina_ was on board, her rich cargo filled the hold, and a black curl of smoke and hissing flames marked where the proud, little merchantman had once bobbed upon the rolling water. Raphael Semmes was happy, for his work of destroying the commerce of the United States Navy had progressed far better than he had hoped. [Illustration: RAPHAEL SEMMES.] "Men!" cried he, "The cause of the Confederate States of America was never brighter upon the ocean than now. Give three times three for Jeff. Davis--his soldiers and his sailors!" A rousing cheer rose above the waves, and the proud privateer bounded onward upon her career of destruction and death. The _Alabama_ was in the zenith of her power. * * * * * The scene now shifts to the harbor of Cherbourg, upon the western coast of France. The _Alabama_ lay there,--safely swinging at her anchor-chains within the break-water. She had come in to refit, for her bottom was much befouled by a long cruise, which had been successful. Built at Birkenhead, England, for the Confederate States Government, she set sail in August, 1862; and had been down the coast of North and South America; around the Cape of Good Hope to India, and back to the shores of France. Sixty-six vessels had fallen into her clutches, and of these fifty-two had been burned; ten had been released on bond; one had been sold, and one set free. Truly she had had a marvellous trip. As she slumbered on--like a huge sea-turtle--a black cloud of smoke appeared above the break-water, and a low-bodied United States cruiser slowly steamed into the harbor. She nosed about, as if looking for safe anchorage, and kept upon the opposite side of the little bay. Immediately all hands clambered to the side of the Confederate cruiser, and glasses were levelled at this vessel which carried the flag of opposition. "She's stronger than we are," said one of the crew. Another grinned. "Look at her eleven-pounders," said he. "I see her name, now. She's the _Kearsarge_, and about our tonnage, but I reckon that she carries more men." Captain Semmes, himself, had come up from below, and was examining the intruder with his glass. "Boys!" said he, "we've got to fight that ship." And, as he withdrew into the cabin, all seemed to be well pleased with this announcement. The _Kearsarge_, commanded by Captain John A. Winslow, had been lying at anchor in the Scheldt, off Flushing, Holland, when a gun roared from the forward part of the ship, warning those officers who had gone ashore, to come on board. Steam was raised, and, as soon as all were collected on deck, the Captain read a telegram from Mr. Dayton, the Minister to France from the United States. It said: "The _Alabama_ has arrived at Cherbourg. Come at once or she will escape you!" "I believe that we'll have an opportunity to fight her," said Captain Winslow. "So be prepared." At this, all of his sailors cheered wildly. The _Kearsarge_ was a staunch craft; she was two hundred and thirty-two feet over all, with thirty-three feet of beam, and carried seven guns; two eleven inch pivots, smooth bore; one thirty-pound rifle, and four light thirty-two pounders. Her crew numbered one hundred and sixty-three men. The sleeping _Alabama_ had but one hundred and forty-nine souls on board, and eight guns: one sixty-eight pounder pivot rifle, smooth bore; one one hundred-pounder pivot, and six heavy thirty-two pounders. So, you see, that the two antagonists were evenly matched, with the superior advantage of the numbers of men on the _Kearsarge_ offset by the extra guns of her opponent. Most of the officers upon the _Kearsarge_ were from the merchant service, and, of the crew, only eleven were of foreign birth. Most of the officers upon the _Alabama_ had served in the navy of the United States; while nearly all of her crew were either English, Irish, or Welsh. A few of the gunners had been trained aboard the _Excellent_: a British training ship in Portsmouth Harbor. Her Captain--Raphael Semmes--was once an officer in the navy of the United States. He had served in the Mexican War, but had joined the Southern cause, as he was a Marylander. He was an able navigator and seaman. The _Kearsarge_ cruised about the port of Cherbourg, poked her bows nearly into the break-water, and then withdrew. The French neutrality law would only allow a foreign vessel to remain in a harbor for twenty-four hours. "Will she come out?" was the question now upon every lip aboard the _Kearsarge_. "Will she come out and fight? Oh, just for one crack at this destroyer of our commerce!" But she did not come out, and the _Kearsarge_ beat around the English Channel in anxious suspense. Several days later Captain Winslow went ashore and paid a visit to the United States Commercial Agent. "That beastly pirate will not fight," he thought. "All she wants to do is to run away." Imagine how his eyes shone when he was handed the following epistle! "C.S.S. _Alabama_, CHERBOURG, June 14th, 1864. "To A. BONFILS, Esqr., Cherbourg; "SIR:--I hear that you were informed by the United States Consul that the _Kearsarge_ was to come to this port solely for the prisoners landed by me, and that she was to depart in twenty-four hours. I desire you to say to the U. S. Consul that my intention is to fight the _Kearsarge_ as soon as I can make the necessary arrangements. I hope these will not detain me more than until to-morrow evening, or after the morrow morning at furthest. I beg she will not depart before I am ready to go out. "I have the honor to be, very respectfully, "Your obedient servant, "R. SEMMES, Captain." "Ha! Ha!" chuckled Winslow. "We're in for it, now. Hurray!" and he hastened back to his ship to spread the glad tidings. "My boys!" said he to his crew. "It is probable that the two ships will engage on parallel lines, and, if defeated, the _Alabama_ will seek for neutral waters. It is necessary, therefore, that we begin this action several miles from the break-water. The _Alabama_ must believe that she can win, or she would not fight us, for, if we sink her, she cannot be replaced by the Confederate Government. As for ourselves, let us never give up, and--if we sink--let us go down with the flag flying!" "Hear! Hear!" cried all. "We're with you, Captain. Never give up the ship!" "Clean decks, boys!" continued brave Winslow. "Get everything ship-shape for the coming affair, for we're in for as tight a little fight as e'er you entered upon." Preparations were immediately made for battle, but no _Alabama_ appeared. Thursday passed; Friday came; the _Kearsarge_ waited in the channel with ports down; guns pivoted to starboard; the whole battery loaded; and shell, grape, and canister ready to use in any method of attack or defence,--but no _Alabama_ appeared. A French pilot-boat drifted near, and the black-eyed skipper cried out, "You fellers look out for ze _Alabama_. She take in much coal. Whew! She take much of ze captured stuff ashore. Whew! She scrub ze deck. Whew! She put ze sailors to ze business of sharpening ze cutlass and ze dirk. Whew! You look out for ze great privateer! Whew!" Captain Winslow only smiled. "Zey have ze big feast," continued the Frenchman. "Zey dr-e-e-nk ze wine. Zey stan' on ze chairs and zey say, 'We will seenk ze Yankee dog.' Ta donc! Zey call you ze dog!" And still Captain Winslow smiled. But, next day, his smile turned to a frown. It was Sunday, the nineteenth day of June. The weather was beautiful; the atmosphere was somewhat hazy; the wind was light; and there was little sea. At ten o'clock the _Kearsarge_ was drifting near a buoy about three miles eastward from the entrance of Cherbourg break-water. Her decks had been newly holy-stoned; the brass work had been cleaned; the guns polished, and the crew had on their Sunday clothes. They had been inspected, and dismissed--in order to attend divine service. At 1.20 a cry rang out: "She comes!" The bell was tolling for prayers. "The _Alabama_! The _Alabama_! She's moving, and heading straight for us!" All rushed to the deck; the drum beat to quarters. Captain Winslow laid aside his prayer-book, seized his trumpet, ordered the boat about, and headed seaward. The ship was cleared for action and the battery was pivoted to starboard. Yes, she was coming! From the western entrance of the safe, little French seaport steamed the long-bodied, low-hulled privateer: her rakish masts bending beneath the spread of canvas: her tall funnel belching sepia smoke. A French iron-clad frigate--the _Couronne_--accompanied her, flying the pennant of the Commander-of-the-Port. In her wake plodded a tiny fore-and-aft-rigged steamer-yacht: the _Deerhound_, showing the flag of the Royal Mersey (British) Yacht Club. The frigate--having convoyed the Confederate privateer to the limit of the French waters (three marine miles from the coast)--put down her helm and ploughed back into port. The steam yacht continued on, and remained near the scene of action. As the _Alabama_ had started upon her dash into the open, Captain Semmes had mounted a gun-carriage, and had cried, "Officers and Seamen of the _Alabama_: "You have at length another opportunity of meeting the enemy--the first that has been presented to you since you sank the _Hatteras_! In the meantime you have been all over the world, and it is not too much to say that you have destroyed, and driven for protection under neutral flags, one-half of the enemy's commerce, which, at the beginning of the war, covered every sea. This is an achievement of which you may well be proud, and a grateful country will not be unmindful of it. The name of your ship has become a household word wherever civilization extends! Shall that name be tarnished by defeat? The thing is impossible! Remember that you are in the English Channel, the theatre of so much of the naval glory of our race, and that the eyes of all Europe are, at this moment, upon you. The flag that floats over you is that of a young Republic, which bids defiance to her enemies whenever and wherever found! Show the world that you know how to uphold it! Go to your quarters!" A wild yell had greeted these stirring expressions. The shore was black with people, for the word had been passed around that the two sea-warriors were to grapple in deadly embrace. Even a special train had come from Paris to bring the sober townsfolk to Cherbourg, where they could view the contest. They were chattering among themselves, like a flock of magpies. "Voilà!" said a fair damsel, whose eyes were fairly shining with excitement. "Oh, I hope zat ze beeg gray fellow weel win." She meant the _Alabama_, for the Confederates dressed in that sober color. "Zis ees ze naval Waterloo!" whispered a veteran of the Crimean War. It was 10.50 o'clock. The _Kearsarge_ had been steaming out to sea, but now she wheeled. She was seven miles from shore and one and one-quarter miles from her opponent. She steered directly for her, as if to ram her and crush through her side. The _Alabama_ sheered off and presented her starboard battery. The _Kearsarge_ came on, rapidly, and--at 10.57 was about eighteen hundred yards from her enemy--then--_Crash! Roar!_ A broadside thundered from the Confederate privateer, while the solid shot screamed through the rigging of the Yankee man-of-war. On! On! came Captain Winslow's gallant craft, while a second and a third broadside crashed into her. The rigging tore and swayed, but she was little injured. She was now within nine hundred yards. "Sheer! Sheer!" cried the Union Commander. The _Kearsarge_ spun off and broke her long silence with the starboard battery. _Crash! Roar!_ the shells pounded around the great privateer, and, with a full head of steam, the corsair of the Southern Confederacy swept onward. _Crash! Roar!_ she answered with shell, and the bursting iron shivered the foremast of her doughty opponent. Captain Winslow was fearful that the enemy would make for the shore, so he spun over his helm to port in the endeavor to run under the _Alabama_'s stern and rake her. But she sheered off, kept her broadside to him, and pounded away like a pugilist. The ships were a quarter of a mile (440 yards) away from each other. They were circling around in a wide arc, plugging away as fast as they could load. The spectators cheered, for it was as good a show as they had ever witnessed. "Eet ees fine!" said the veteran of the Crimea. "Eet remin' me of ze battaile at Balaklava!" Suddenly a wild cheer rose from the deck of the United States cruiser. A shot had struck the spanker-gaff on the enemy and her ensign had come down on the run. "Hurray!" shouted the seamen. "That means we'll win, sure!" The fallen ensign re-appeared at the mizzen, while firing from the _Alabama_ became rapid and wild. The gunners of the _Kearsarge_ had been cautioned against shooting without direct aim, and had been told to point their heavy guns below, rather than above the water-line. Captain Winslow was busy with his orders. "Clear the enemy's deck with the light guns!" he shouted. "Sink the Confederate with the heavy iron!" Cheer succeeded cheer from his sailors. Caps were thrown into the air, or overboard. Jackets were tossed aside. Now, certain of victory, the men were shouting wildly, as each projectile took effect. "That's a good one!" "Down, boys, down!" "Give her another like the last!" "Now--we have her!" The vessels continued to swing around each other in wide circles, and--at this moment--a sixty-eight pound Blakely shell passed through the starboard bulwarks of the _Kearsarge_ below the main rigging, exploded on the quarter-deck, and wounded three of the crew of the after pivot-gun. The three unfortunate men were speedily taken below, but the act was done so quietly, that--at the termination of the fight--a large number of the crew were unaware that any of their comrades were injured. Two shots now crashed through the port-holes occupied by the thirty-two pounders; one exploded in the hammock-netting; the other shrieked through the opposite port; yet no one was hurt. Fire blazed from the deck; the alarm calling for fire-quarters was sounded, and the men who had been detailed for this emergency put it out. The rest stayed at the guns. [Illustration: "THE MEN WERE SHOUTING WILDLY, AS EACH PROJECTILE TOOK EFFECT."] The eleven-inch shells were doing terrible execution upon the quarter-deck of the _Alabama_. Three of them crashed into the eight-inch pivot-gun port; the first swept off the forward part of the gun's crew; the second killed one man and wounded several others; the third struck the breast of the gun-carriage and spun around on the deck until one of the men picked it up and threw it overboard. The ship was careening heavily to starboard, while the decks were covered with the dead and dying. A shell plunged into the coal bunker and a dense cloud of coal dust arose. Crippled and torn, the hulking privateer began to settle by the stern. Her guns still spat and growled, and her broadsides were going wild. She was fast weakening. "Any one who silences that after pivot-gun will get one hundred dollars!" cried Captain Semmes, as he saw the fearful accuracy of its fire. _Crash!_ a whole broadside from the privateer spat at this particular piece. It was in vain. Around and around circled the belching _Kearsarge_. Seven times she had swooped about the weakening gladiator of the sea, and her fire was more and more accurate. She was like a great eagle closing in for a deaththrust. Captain Semmes was in a desperate situation. "Hoist the fore-trysail and jibs!" he called out above the din of cannon. "Head for the French coast!" As the sailors scrambled to obey, the _Alabama_ presented her port battery to the _Kearsarge_. She showed gaping sides and only two guns were bearing. At this moment the chief engineer came up on the deck of the privateer. "The fires are all out and the engines will not work!" he reported to Captain Semmes. The doughty seaman turned to his chief executive officer, Mr. Kell. "Go below, sir," he shouted, "and see how long the ship can float!" In a few moments the sailor had returned from his inspection. "Captain!" cried he, saluting. "She will not stay on the sea for ten minutes." The face of the Confederate was ashen, as he answered, "Then, sir, cease firing, shorten sail, and haul down the colors. It will never do in this Nineteenth Century for us to go down with the decks covered with our gallant wounded!" As he ceased speaking, a broadside roared from the side of his sinking vessel. The ensign of the _Kearsarge_ had been stopped (rolled up and tied with a piece of twine) and, as a shell crashed through her rigging, a piece hit the flag-halyards--parted them--and unstopped the flag. It unfurled itself gallantly in the breeze, and, as its beautiful striping waved aloft, the sailors upon the deck gave a loud cheer, for this was the omen of Victory. At this moment, two of the junior officers upon the _Alabama_ swore that they would never surrender, and, in a spirit of mutiny, rushed to the two port guns and opened fire upon the Union vessel. "He is playing us a trick!" shouted Winslow. "Give him another broadside!" Again the shot and shell went crashing through the sides of the Confederate cruiser. The _Kearsarge_ was laid across her bows for raking, and, in a position to use grape and canister. A white flag was then shown over the stern of the _Alabama_ and her ensign was half-masted; Union down. "Cease firing!" shouted Captain Winslow. The great fight was over. It had lasted one hour and two minutes. _Chugety, plug, splash!_ The boats were lowered from the _Alabama_, and her Master's mate rowed to the _Kearsarge_, with a few of his wounded. "We are sinking," said he. "You must come and help us!" "Does Captain Semmes surrender his ship?" asked Winslow. "Yes!" "All right. Then I'll help you!" Fullam grinned. "May I return with this boat and crew in order to rescue the drowning?" he asked. "I pledge you my word of honor that I will then come on board and surrender." Captain Winslow granted his request. With less generosity, the victorious Commander could have detained the officers and men, supplied their places with his own sailors, and offered equal aid to the distressed. His generosity was abused. Fullam pulled to the midst of the drowning; rescued several officers; went to the yacht _Deerhound_, and cast his boat adrift; leaving a number of men struggling in the water. The _Alabama_ was settling fast. "All hands overboard!" cried Mr. Kell. "Let every man grab a life-preserver, or a spar." As the sailors plunged into the sea, Captain Semmes dropped his sword into the waves and leaped outward, with a life-preserver around his waist. Kell followed, while the _Alabama_ launched her bows high in the air, and--graceful, even in her death throes--plunged stern-foremost into the deep. A sucking eddy of foam, spars, and wreckage marked where once had floated the gallant ship. Thus sank the terror of the merchantmen--riddled through and through--and no cheer arose as her battered hulk went down in forty-five fathoms of water. Her star had set. The _Deerhound_ had kept about a mile to windward of the two contestants, but she now steamed towards the mass of living heads, which dotted the surface of the sea. Her two boats were lowered, and Captain Semmes was picked up and taken aboard, with forty others. She then edged to the leeward and steamed rapidly away. An officer quickly approached Captain Winslow. "Better fire a shot at the yacht," he said, saluting. "She's got Captain Semmes aboard and will run off with him." Winslow smiled. "It's impossible," said he. "She's simply coming around!" But the _Deerhound_ kept on. Another officer approached the commander of the _Kearsarge_. "That beastly yacht is carrying off our men," said he. "Better bring her to, Captain!" "No Englishman who carries the flag of the Royal Yacht Squadron can so act!" Winslow replied,--somewhat pettishly. "She's simply coming around." But she never "came around," and Captain Raphael Semmes was soon safe upon British soil. He had fought a game fight. The superior gunnery of the sailors of the _Kearsarge_ had been too much for him. Nine of his crew were dead and twenty-one wounded, while the _Kearsarge_ had no one killed and but three wounded; one of whom died shortly afterwards. Thus,--the lesson is: If you want to win: Learn how to shoot straight! * * * * * Captain Raphael Semmes died quietly at Mobile, Alabama, August 30th, 1877. His ill-fated _Alabama_ had inflicted a loss of over seven million dollars upon the commerce of the United States. A number of wise men met, many years afterwards, in Geneva, Switzerland, and decided, that, as the British Government had allowed this vessel to leave their shores, when warned by the American minister of her character and intention to go privateering, it should therefore pay for all the vessels which the graceful cruiser had destroyed. England had broken the neutrality laws. John Bull paid up. But, --Boys-- it hurt! EL CAPITAN "There was a Captain-General who ruled in Vera Cruz, And what we used to hear of him was always evil news: He was a pirate on the sea--a robber on the shore, The Señor Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador. "There was a Yankee skipper who round about did roam; His name was Stephen Folger,--Nantucket was his home: And having sailed to Vera Cruz, he had been _skinned_ full sore By the Señor Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador. "But having got away alive, though all his cash was gone, He said, 'If there is vengeance, I will surely try it on! And I do wish that I may be hung,--if I don't clear the score With Señor Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador.' "He shipped a crew of seventy men--well-arméd men were they, And sixty of them in the hold he darkly stowed away; And, sailing back to Vera Cruz, was sighted from the shore By the Señor Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador. "With twenty-five soldados, he came on board, so pleased, And said '_Maldito_, Yankee,--again your ship is seized. How many sailors have you got?' Said Folger, 'Ten--no more,' To the Captain Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador. "'But come into my cabin and take a glass of wine, I do suppose, as usual, I'll have to pay a fine: I've got some old Madeira, and we'll talk the matter o'er-- My Captain Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador.' "And, as over the Madeira the Captain-General boozed, It seemed to him as if his head were getting quite confused; For, it happened that some morphine had travelled from 'the Store' To the glass of Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador. "'What is it makes the vessel roll? What sounds are these I hear? It seems as if the rising waves were beating on my ear!' 'Oh, it is the breaking of the surf--just that, and nothing more, My Captain Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador!' "The Governor was in a sleep, which muddled up his brains; The seventy men had caught his 'gang' and put them all in chains; And, when he woke the following day, he could not see the shore, For he was away out on the sea--the Don San Salvador. "'Now do you see the yard-arm--and understand the thing?' Said rough, old Folger, viciously--'for this is where you'll swing, Or forty thousand dollars you shall pay me from your store, My Captain Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador!' "The Captain he took up a pen--the order he did sign-- 'O my, but Señor Yankee! You charge great guns for wine!' Yet it was not until the draft was paid, they let him go ashore, El Señor Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador. * * * * * "The greater sharp will some day find another sharper wit; It always makes the Devil laugh to see a biter bit; It takes two Spaniards, any day, to comb a Yankee o'er-- Even two like Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador." RETROSPECT The curtain falls, the plays are done, To roar of shell and shock of gun; The scuttled shipping bobs and sways, In grime and muck of shallow bays. The tattered ensigns mould'ring lie, As diving otters bark and cry; While--in the lee of crumbling piers, The rotting hulk its decking rears. Gray, screaming kestrels wheel and sheer, Above the wasted steering gear. In moulding kelp and mackerel's sheen, The blighted log-book hides unseen. Red flash the beams of northern blaze. Through beaded clouds of Elmo's haze; While dim, unkempt, the ghostly crew Float by, and chant the lesson true! Sons of the fog-bound Northland; sons of the blinding seas, If ye would cherish the trust which your fathers left, Ye must strive--ye must work--without ease. Strong have your good sires battled, oft have your fathers bled, If ye would hold up the flag which they've never let sag, Ye must plod--ye must creep where they've led. The shimmering icebergs call you; the plunging screw-drums scream, By shallowing shoals they haul you, to the beat of the walking beam. The twisting petrels chatter, as ye drift by the waiting fleet, In your towering grim, gray Dreadnought,--a king who sneers at defeat. While the silken pennons flutter; as the frozen halyards strain; Comes the growling old-world mutter, the voice of the million slain: _Keep to your manly war games; keep to your warrior's play._ _Though the dove of peace is dancing to the sounding truce harp's lay._ _Arbitrate if you have to; smooth it o'er if you must,_ _But, be prepared for battle, to parry the war king's thrust._ _Don't foster the chip on the shoulder; don't hasten the slap in the face._ _But, burnish your sword, ere you're older,--the blade of the ancient race._ _Hark to the deeds of your fathers; cherish the stories I've told,_ _Then--go and do like, if you have to--and die--like a Hero of Old._ Transcriber's Note Punctuation errors have been repaired. Hyphenation has been made consistent within the main text. There is some archaic and variable spelling, which has been preserved as printed. The following amendments have also been made: Page 3--repeated book title deleted. Page 77--omitted word 'to' added after row--"... jumped into two small wherries in order to row to the lugger." Page 156--pedlers amended to peddlers--"There are tinkers, tailors, haymakers, peddlers, fiddlers, ..." Page 178--Huzza amended to Huzzah--""... Huzzah for Fortunatus Wright!"" Page 226--envollé amended to envolé--""Sapristi! L'oiseau s'est envolé."" Page 248--manoever amended to manoeuver--"... had simply followed my manoeuver of wearing around under easy helm ..." Illustrations have been moved slightly where necessary so that they are not in the middle of a paragraph. The frontispiece and advertising matter have been moved to follow the title page. 
973	----	HOWARD PYLE'S BOOK OF PIRATES Fiction, Fact & Fancy concerning the Buccaneers & Marooners of the Spanish Main: From the writing & Pictures of Howard Pyle: Compiled by Merle Johnson CONTENTS FOREWORD BY MERLE JOHNSON PREFACE I. BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN II. THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND III. WITH THE BUCCANEERS IV. TOM CHIST AND THE TREASURE BOX V. JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES VI. BLUESKIN THE PIRATE VII. CAPTAIN SCARFIELD FOREWORD PIRATES, Buccaneers, Marooners, those cruel but picturesque sea wolves who once infested the Spanish Main, all live in present-day conceptions in great degree as drawn by the pen and pencil of Howard Pyle. Pyle, artist-author, living in the latter half of the nineteenth century and the first decade of the twentieth, had the fine faculty of transposing himself into any chosen period of history and making its people flesh and blood again--not just historical puppets. His characters were sketched with both words and picture; with both words and picture he ranks as a master, with a rich personality which makes his work individual and attractive in either medium. He was one of the founders of present-day American illustration, and his pupils and grand-pupils pervade that field to-day. While he bore no such important part in the world of letters, his stories are modern in treatment, and yet widely read. His range included historical treatises concerning his favorite Pirates (Quaker though he was); fiction, with the same Pirates as principals; Americanized version of Old World fairy tales; boy stories of the Middle Ages, still best sellers to growing lads; stories of the occult, such as In Tenebras and To the Soil of the Earth, which, if newly published, would be hailed as contributions to our latest cult. In all these fields Pyle's work may be equaled, surpassed, save in one. It is improbable that anyone else will ever bring his combination of interest and talent to the depiction of these old-time Pirates, any more than there could be a second Remington to paint the now extinct Indians and gun-fighters of the Great West. Important and interesting to the student of history, the adventure-lover, and the artist, as they are, these Pirate stories and pictures have been scattered through many magazines and books. Here, in this volume, they are gathered together for the first time, perhaps not just as Mr. Pyle would have done, but with a completeness and appreciation of the real value of the material which the author's modesty might not have permitted. MERLE JOHNSON. PREFACE WHY is it that a little spice of deviltry lends not an unpleasantly titillating twang to the great mass of respectable flour that goes to make up the pudding of our modern civilization? And pertinent to this question another--Why is it that the pirate has, and always has had, a certain lurid glamour of the heroical enveloping him round about? Is there, deep under the accumulated debris of culture, a hidden groundwork of the old-time savage? Is there even in these well-regulated times an unsubdued nature in the respectable mental household of every one of us that still kicks against the pricks of law and order? To make my meaning more clear, would not every boy, for instance--that is, every boy of any account--rather be a pirate captain than a Member of Parliament? And we ourselves--would we not rather read such a story as that of Captain Avery's capture of the East Indian treasure ship, with its beautiful princess and load of jewels (which gems he sold by the handful, history sayeth, to a Bristol merchant), than, say, one of Bishop Atterbury's sermons, or the goodly Master Robert Boyle's religious romance of "Theodora and Didymus"? It is to be apprehended that to the unregenerate nature of most of us there can be but one answer to such a query. In the pleasurable warmth the heart feels in answer to tales of derring-do Nelson's battles are all mightily interesting, but, even in spite of their romance of splendid courage, I fancy that the majority of us would rather turn back over the leaves of history to read how Drake captured the Spanish treasure ship in the South Sea, and of how he divided such a quantity of booty in the Island of Plate (so named because of the tremendous dividend there declared) that it had to be measured in quart bowls, being too considerable to be counted. Courage and daring, no matter how mad and ungodly, have always a redundancy of vim and life to recommend them to the nether man that lies within us, and no doubt his desperate courage, his battle against the tremendous odds of all the civilized world of law and order, have had much to do in making a popular hero of our friend of the black flag. But it is not altogether courage and daring that endear him to our hearts. There is another and perhaps a greater kinship in that lust for wealth that makes one's fancy revel more pleasantly in the story of the division of treasure in the pirate's island retreat, the hiding of his godless gains somewhere in the sandy stretch of tropic beach, there to remain hidden until the time should come to rake the doubloons up again and to spend them like a lord in polite society, than in the most thrilling tales of his wonderful escapes from commissioned cruisers through tortuous channels between the coral reefs. And what a life of adventure is his, to be sure! A life of constant alertness, constant danger, constant escape! An ocean Ishmaelite, he wanders forever aimlessly, homelessly; now unheard of for months, now careening his boat on some lonely uninhabited shore, now appearing suddenly to swoop down on some merchant vessel with rattle of musketry, shouting, yells, and a hell of unbridled passions let loose to rend and tear. What a Carlislean hero! What a setting of blood and lust and flame and rapine for such a hero! Piracy, such as was practiced in the flower of its days--that is, during the early eighteenth century--was no sudden growth. It was an evolution, from the semi-lawful buccaneering of the sixteenth century, just as buccaneering was upon its part, in a certain sense, an evolution from the unorganized, unauthorized warfare of the Tudor period. For there was a deal of piratical smack in the anti-Spanish ventures of Elizabethan days. Many of the adventurers--of the Sir Francis Drake school, for instance--actually overstepped again and again the bounds of international law, entering into the realms of de facto piracy. Nevertheless, while their doings were not recognized officially by the government, the perpetrators were neither punished nor reprimanded for their excursions against Spanish commerce at home or in the West Indies; rather were they commended, and it was considered not altogether a discreditable thing for men to get rich upon the spoils taken from Spanish galleons in times of nominal peace. Many of the most reputable citizens and merchants of London, when they felt that the queen failed in her duty of pushing the fight against the great Catholic Power, fitted out fleets upon their own account and sent them to levy good Protestant war of a private nature upon the Pope's anointed. Some of the treasures captured in such ventures were immense, stupendous, unbelievable. For an example, one can hardly credit the truth of the "purchase" gained by Drake in the famous capture of the plate ship in the South Sea. One of the old buccaneer writers of a century later says: "The Spaniards affirm to this day that he took at that time twelvescore tons of plate and sixteen bowls of coined money a man (his number being then forty-five men in all), insomuch that they were forced to heave much of it overboard, because his ship could not carry it all." Maybe this was a very greatly exaggerated statement put by the author and his Spanish authorities, nevertheless there was enough truth in it to prove very conclusively to the bold minds of the age that tremendous profits--"purchases" they called them--were to be made from piracy. The Western World is filled with the names of daring mariners of those old days, who came flitting across the great trackless ocean in their little tublike boats of a few hundred tons burden, partly to explore unknown seas, partly--largely, perhaps--in pursuit of Spanish treasure: Frobisher, Davis, Drake, and a score of others. In this left-handed war against Catholic Spain many of the adventurers were, no doubt, stirred and incited by a grim, Calvinistic, puritanical zeal for Protestantism. But equally beyond doubt the gold and silver and plate of the "Scarlet Woman" had much to do with the persistent energy with which these hardy mariners braved the mysterious, unknown terrors of the great unknown ocean that stretched away to the sunset, there in faraway waters to attack the huge, unwieldy, treasure-laden galleons that sailed up and down the Caribbean Sea and through the Bahama Channel. Of all ghastly and terrible things old-time religious war was the most ghastly and terrible. One can hardly credit nowadays the cold, callous cruelty of those times. Generally death was the least penalty that capture entailed. When the Spaniards made prisoners of the English, the Inquisition took them in hand, and what that meant all the world knows. When the English captured a Spanish vessel the prisoners were tortured, either for the sake of revenge or to compel them to disclose where treasure lay hidden. Cruelty begat cruelty, and it would be hard to say whether the Anglo-Saxon or the Latin showed himself to be most proficient in torturing his victim. When Cobham, for instance, captured the Spanish ship in the Bay of Biscay, after all resistance was over and the heat of the battle had cooled, he ordered his crew to bind the captain and all of the crew and every Spaniard aboard--whether in arms or not--to sew them up in the mainsail and to fling them overboard. There were some twenty dead bodies in the sail when a few days later it was washed up on the shore. Of course such acts were not likely to go unavenged, and many an innocent life was sacrificed to pay the debt of Cobham's cruelty. Nothing could be more piratical than all this. Nevertheless, as was said, it was winked at, condoned, if not sanctioned, by the law; and it was not beneath people of family and respectability to take part in it. But by and by Protestantism and Catholicism began to be at somewhat less deadly enmity with each other; religious wars were still far enough from being ended, but the scabbard of the sword was no longer flung away when the blade was drawn. And so followed a time of nominal peace, and a generation arose with whom it was no longer respectable and worthy--one might say a matter of duty--to fight a country with which one's own land was not at war. Nevertheless, the seed had been sown; it had been demonstrated that it was feasible to practice piracy against Spain and not to suffer therefor. Blood had been shed and cruelty practiced, and, once indulged, no lust seems stronger than that of shedding blood and practicing cruelty. Though Spain might be ever so well grounded in peace at home, in the West Indies she was always at war with the whole world--English, French, Dutch. It was almost a matter of life or death with her to keep her hold upon the New World. At home she was bankrupt and, upon the earthquake of the Reformation, her power was already beginning to totter and to crumble to pieces. America was her treasure house, and from it alone could she hope to keep her leaking purse full of gold and silver. So it was that she strove strenuously, desperately, to keep out the world from her American possessions--a bootless task, for the old order upon which her power rested was broken and crumbled forever. But still she strove, fighting against fate, and so it was that in the tropical America it was one continual war between her and all the world. Thus it came that, long after piracy ceased to be allowed at home, it continued in those far-away seas with unabated vigor, recruiting to its service all that lawless malign element which gathers together in every newly opened country where the only law is lawlessness, where might is right and where a living is to be gained with no more trouble than cutting a throat. {signature Howard Pyle His Mark} HOWARD PILE'S BOOK OF PIRATES Chapter I. BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN JUST above the northwestern shore of the old island of Hispaniola--the Santo Domingo of our day--and separated from it only by a narrow channel of some five or six miles in width, lies a queer little hunch of an island, known, because of a distant resemblance to that animal, as the Tortuga de Mar, or sea turtle. It is not more than twenty miles in length by perhaps seven or eight in breadth; it is only a little spot of land, and as you look at it upon the map a pin's head would almost cover it; yet from that spot, as from a center of inflammation, a burning fire of human wickedness and ruthlessness and lust overran the world, and spread terror and death throughout the Spanish West Indies, from St. Augustine to the island of Trinidad, and from Panama to the coasts of Peru. About the middle of the seventeenth century certain French adventurers set out from the fortified island of St. Christopher in longboats and hoys, directing their course to the westward, there to discover new islands. Sighting Hispaniola "with abundance of joy," they landed, and went into the country, where they found great quantities of wild cattle, horses, and swine. Now vessels on the return voyage to Europe from the West Indies needed revictualing, and food, especially flesh, was at a premium in the islands of the Spanish Main; wherefore a great profit was to be turned in preserving beef and pork, and selling the flesh to homeward-bound vessels. The northwestern shore of Hispaniola, lying as it does at the eastern outlet of the old Bahama Channel, running between the island of Cuba and the great Bahama Banks, lay almost in the very main stream of travel. The pioneer Frenchmen were not slow to discover the double advantage to be reaped from the wild cattle that cost them nothing to procure, and a market for the flesh ready found for them. So down upon Hispaniola they came by boatloads and shiploads, gathering like a swarm of mosquitoes, and overrunning the whole western end of the island. There they established themselves, spending the time alternately in hunting the wild cattle and buccanning(1) the meat, and squandering their hardly earned gains in wild debauchery, the opportunities for which were never lacking in the Spanish West Indies. (1) Buccanning, by which the "buccaneers" gained their name, was of process of curing thin strips of meat by salting, smoking, and drying in the sun. At first the Spaniards thought nothing of the few travel-worn Frenchmen who dragged their longboats and hoys up on the beach, and shot a wild bullock or two to keep body and soul together; but when the few grew to dozens, and the dozens to scores, and the scores to hundreds, it was a very different matter, and wrathful grumblings and mutterings began to be heard among the original settlers. But of this the careless buccaneers thought never a whit, the only thing that troubled them being the lack of a more convenient shipping point than the main island afforded them. This lack was at last filled by a party of hunters who ventured across the narrow channel that separated the main island from Tortuga. Here they found exactly what they needed--a good harbor, just at the junction of the Windward Channel with the old Bahama Channel--a spot where four-fifths of the Spanish-Indian trade would pass by their very wharves. There were a few Spaniards upon the island, but they were a quiet folk, and well disposed to make friends with the strangers; but when more Frenchmen and still more Frenchmen crossed the narrow channel, until they overran the Tortuga and turned it into one great curing house for the beef which they shot upon the neighboring island, the Spaniards grew restive over the matter, just as they had done upon the larger island. Accordingly, one fine day there came half a dozen great boatloads of armed Spaniards, who landed upon the Turtle's Back and sent the Frenchmen flying to the woods and fastnesses of rocks as the chaff flies before the thunder gust. That night the Spaniards drank themselves mad and shouted themselves hoarse over their victory, while the beaten Frenchmen sullenly paddled their canoes back to the main island again, and the Sea Turtle was Spanish once more. But the Spaniards were not contented with such a petty triumph as that of sweeping the island of Tortuga free from the obnoxious strangers, down upon Hispaniola they came, flushed with their easy victory, and determined to root out every Frenchman, until not one single buccaneer remained. For a time they had an easy thing of it, for each French hunter roamed the woods by himself, with no better company than his half-wild dogs, so that when two or three Spaniards would meet such a one, he seldom if ever came out of the woods again, for even his resting place was lost. But the very success of the Spaniards brought their ruin along with it, for the buccaneers began to combine together for self-protection, and out of that combination arose a strange union of lawless man with lawless man, so near, so close, that it can scarce be compared to any other than that of husband and wife. When two entered upon this comradeship, articles were drawn up and signed by both parties, a common stock was made of all their possessions, and out into the woods they went to seek their fortunes; thenceforth they were as one man; they lived together by day, they slept together by night; what one suffered, the other suffered; what one gained, the other gained. The only separation that came betwixt them was death, and then the survivor inherited all that the other left. And now it was another thing with Spanish buccaneer hunting, for two buccaneers, reckless of life, quick of eye, and true of aim, were worth any half dozen of Spanish islanders. By and by, as the French became more strongly organized for mutual self-protection, they assumed the offensive. Then down they came upon Tortuga, and now it was the turn of the Spanish to be hunted off the island like vermin, and the turn of the French to shout their victory. Having firmly established themselves, a governor was sent to the French of Tortuga, one M. le Passeur, from the island of St. Christopher; the Sea Turtle was fortified, and colonists, consisting of men of doubtful character and women of whose character there could be no doubt whatever, began pouring in upon the island, for it was said that the buccaneers thought no more of a doubloon than of a Lima bean, so that this was the place for the brothel and the brandy shop to reap their golden harvest, and the island remained French. Hitherto the Tortugans had been content to gain as much as possible from the homeward-bound vessels through the orderly channels of legitimate trade. It was reserved for Pierre le Grand to introduce piracy as a quicker and more easy road to wealth than the semi-honest exchange they had been used to practice. Gathering together eight-and-twenty other spirits as hardy and reckless as himself, he put boldly out to sea in a boat hardly large enough to hold his crew, and running down the Windward Channel and out into the Caribbean Sea, he lay in wait for such a prize as might be worth the risks of winning. For a while their luck was steadily against them; their provisions and water began to fail, and they saw nothing before them but starvation or a humiliating return. In this extremity they sighted a Spanish ship belonging to a "flota" which had become separated from her consorts. The boat in which the buccaneers sailed might, perhaps, have served for the great ship's longboat; the Spaniards out-numbered them three to one, and Pierre and his men were armed only with pistols and cutlasses; nevertheless this was their one and their only chance, and they determined to take the Spanish ship or to die in the attempt. Down upon the Spaniard they bore through the dusk of the night, and giving orders to the "chirurgeon" to scuttle their craft under them as they were leaving it, they swarmed up the side of the unsuspecting ship and upon its decks in a torrent--pistol in one hand and cutlass in the other. A part of them ran to the gun room and secured the arms and ammunition, pistoling or cutting down all such as stood in their way or offered opposition; the other party burst into the great cabin at the heels of Pierre le Grand, found the captain and a party of his friends at cards, set a pistol to his breast, and demanded him to deliver up the ship. Nothing remained for the Spaniard but to yield, for there was no alternative between surrender and death. And so the great prize was won. It was not long before the news of this great exploit and of the vast treasure gained reached the ears of the buccaneers of Tortuga and Hispaniola. Then what a hubbub and an uproar and a tumult there was! Hunting wild cattle and buccanning the meat was at a discount, and the one and only thing to do was to go a-pirating; for where one such prize had been won, others were to be had. In a short time freebooting assumed all of the routine of a regular business. Articles were drawn up betwixt captain and crew, compacts were sealed, and agreements entered into by the one party and the other. In all professions there are those who make their mark, those who succeed only moderately well, and those who fail more or less entirely. Nor did pirating differ from this general rule, for in it were men who rose to distinction, men whose names, something tarnished and rusted by the lapse of years, have come down even to us of the present day. Pierre Francois, who, with his boatload of six-and-twenty desperadoes, ran boldly into the midst of the pearl fleet off the coast of South America, attacked the vice admiral under the very guns of two men-of-war, captured his ship, though she was armed with eight guns and manned with threescore men, and would have got her safely away, only that having to put on sail, their mainmast went by the board, whereupon the men-of-war came up with them, and the prize was lost. But even though there were two men-of-war against all that remained of six-and-twenty buccaneers, the Spaniards were glad enough to make terms with them for the surrender of the vessel, whereby Pierre Francois and his men came off scot-free. Bartholomew Portuguese was a worthy of even more note. In a boat manned with thirty fellow adventurers he fell upon a great ship off Cape Corrientes, manned with threescore and ten men, all told. Her he assaulted again and again, beaten off with the very pressure of numbers only to renew the assault, until the Spaniards who survived, some fifty in all, surrendered to twenty living pirates, who poured upon their decks like a score of blood-stained, powder-grimed devils. They lost their vessel by recapture, and Bartholomew Portuguese barely escaped with his life through a series of almost unbelievable adventures. But no sooner had he fairly escaped from the clutches of the Spaniards than, gathering together another band of adventurers, he fell upon the very same vessel in the gloom of the night, recaptured her when she rode at anchor in the harbor of Campeche under the guns of the fort, slipped the cable, and was away without the loss of a single man. He lost her in a hurricane soon afterward, just off the Isle of Pines; but the deed was none the less daring for all that. Another notable no less famous than these two worthies was Roch Braziliano, the truculent Dutchman who came up from the coast of Brazil to the Spanish Main with a name ready-made for him. Upon the very first adventure which he undertook he captured a plate ship of fabulous value, and brought her safely into Jamaica; and when at last captured by the Spaniards, he fairly frightened them into letting him go by truculent threats of vengeance from his followers. Such were three of the pirate buccaneers who infested the Spanish Main. There were hundreds no less desperate, no less reckless, no less insatiate in their lust for plunder, than they. The effects of this freebooting soon became apparent. The risks to be assumed by the owners of vessels and the shippers of merchandise became so enormous that Spanish commerce was practically swept away from these waters. No vessel dared to venture out of port excepting under escort of powerful men-of-war, and even then they were not always secure from molestation. Exports from Central and South America were sent to Europe by way of the Strait of Magellan, and little or none went through the passes between the Bahamas and the Caribbees. So at last "buccaneering," as it had come to be generically called, ceased to pay the vast dividends that it had done at first. The cream was skimmed off, and only very thin milk was left in the dish. Fabulous fortunes were no longer earned in a ten days' cruise, but what money was won hardly paid for the risks of the winning. There must be a new departure, or buccaneering would cease to exist. Then arose one who showed the buccaneers a new way to squeeze money out of the Spaniards. This man was an Englishman--Lewis Scot. The stoppage of commerce on the Spanish Main had naturally tended to accumulate all the wealth gathered and produced into the chief fortified cities and towns of the West Indies. As there no longer existed prizes upon the sea, they must be gained upon the land, if they were to be gained at all. Lewis Scot was the first to appreciate this fact. Gathering together a large and powerful body of men as hungry for plunder and as desperate as himself, he descended upon the town of Campeche, which he captured and sacked, stripping it of everything that could possibly be carried away. When the town was cleared to the bare walls Scot threatened to set the torch to every house in the place if it was not ransomed by a large sum of money which he demanded. With this booty he set sail for Tortuga, where he arrived safely--and the problem was solved. After him came one Mansvelt, a buccaneer of lesser note, who first made a descent upon the isle of Saint Catharine, now Old Providence, which he took, and, with this as a base, made an unsuccessful descent upon Neuva Granada and Cartagena. His name might not have been handed down to us along with others of greater fame had he not been the master of that most apt of pupils, the great Captain Henry Morgan, most famous of all the buccaneers, one time governor of Jamaica, and knighted by King Charles II. After Mansvelt followed the bold John Davis, native of Jamaica, where he sucked in the lust of piracy with his mother's milk. With only fourscore men, he swooped down upon the great city of Nicaragua in the darkness of the night, silenced the sentry with the thrust of a knife, and then fell to pillaging the churches and houses "without any respect or veneration." Of course it was but a short time until the whole town was in an uproar of alarm, and there was nothing left for the little handful of men to do but to make the best of their way to their boats. They were in the town but a short time, but in that time they were able to gather together and to carry away money and jewels to the value of fifty thousand pieces of eight, besides dragging off with them a dozen or more notable prisoners, whom they held for ransom. And now one appeared upon the scene who reached a far greater height than any had arisen to before. This was Francois l'Olonoise, who sacked the great city of Maracaibo and the town of Gibraltar. Cold, unimpassioned, pitiless, his sluggish blood was never moved by one single pulse of human warmth, his icy heart was never touched by one ray of mercy or one spark of pity for the hapless wretches who chanced to fall into his bloody hands. Against him the governor of Havana sent out a great war vessel, and with it a negro executioner, so that there might be no inconvenient delays of law after the pirates had been captured. But l'Olonoise did not wait for the coming of the war vessel; he went out to meet it, and he found it where it lay riding at anchor in the mouth of the river Estra. At the dawn of the morning he made his attack sharp, unexpected, decisive. In a little while the Spaniards were forced below the hatches, and the vessel was taken. Then came the end. One by one the poor shrieking wretches were dragged up from below, and one by one they were butchered in cold blood, while l'Olonoise stood upon the poop deck and looked coldly down upon what was being done. Among the rest the negro was dragged upon the deck. He begged and implored that his life might be spared, promising to tell all that might be asked of him. L'Olonoise questioned him, and when he had squeezed him dry, waved his hand coldly, and the poor black went with the rest. Only one man was spared; him he sent to the governor of Havana with a message that henceforth he would give no quarter to any Spaniard whom he might meet in arms--a message which was not an empty threat. The rise of l'Olonoise was by no means rapid. He worked his way up by dint of hard labor and through much ill fortune. But by and by, after many reverses, the tide turned, and carried him with it from one success to another, without let or stay, to the bitter end. Cruising off Maracaibo, he captured a rich prize laden with a vast amount of plate and ready money, and there conceived the design of descending upon the powerful town of Maracaibo itself. Without loss of time he gathered together five hundred picked scoundrels from Tortuga, and taking with him one Michael de Basco as land captain, and two hundred more buccaneers whom he commanded, down he came into the Gulf of Venezuela and upon the doomed city like a blast of the plague. Leaving their vessels, the buccaneers made a land attack upon the fort that stood at the mouth of the inlet that led into Lake Maracaibo and guarded the city. The Spaniards held out well, and fought with all the might that Spaniards possess; but after a fight of three hours all was given up and the garrison fled, spreading terror and confusion before them. As many of the inhabitants of the city as could do so escaped in boats to Gibraltar, which lies to the southward, on the shores of Lake Maracaibo, at the distance of some forty leagues or more. Then the pirates marched into the town, and what followed may be conceived. It was a holocaust of lust, of passion, and of blood such as even the Spanish West Indies had never seen before. Houses and churches were sacked until nothing was left but the bare walls; men and women were tortured to compel them to disclose where more treasure lay hidden. Then, having wrenched all that they could from Maracaibo, they entered the lake and descended upon Gibraltar, where the rest of the panic-stricken inhabitants were huddled together in a blind terror. The governor of Merida, a brave soldier who had served his king in Flanders, had gathered together a troop of eight hundred men, had fortified the town, and now lay in wait for the coming of the pirates. The pirates came all in good time, and then, in spite of the brave defense, Gibraltar also fell. Then followed a repetition of the scenes that had been enacted in Maracaibo for the past fifteen days, only here they remained for four horrible weeks, extorting money--money! ever money!--from the poor poverty-stricken, pest-ridden souls crowded into that fever hole of a town. Then they left, but before they went they demanded still more money--ten thousand pieces of eight--as a ransom for the town, which otherwise should be given to the flames. There was some hesitation on the part of the Spaniards, some disposition to haggle, but there was no hesitation on the part of l'Olonoise. The torch WAS set to the town as he had promised, whereupon the money was promptly paid, and the pirates were piteously begged to help quench the spreading flames. This they were pleased to do, but in spite of all their efforts nearly half of the town was consumed. After that they returned to Maracaibo again, where they demanded a ransom of thirty thousand pieces of eight for the city. There was no haggling here, thanks to the fate of Gibraltar; only it was utterly impossible to raise that much money in all of the poverty-stricken region. But at last the matter was compromised, and the town was redeemed for twenty thousand pieces of eight and five hundred head of cattle, and tortured Maracaibo was quit of them. In the Ile de la Vache the buccaneers shared among themselves two hundred and sixty thousand pieces of eight, besides jewels and bales of silk and linen and miscellaneous plunder to a vast amount. Such was the one great deed of l'Olonoise; from that time his star steadily declined--for even nature seemed fighting against such a monster--until at last he died a miserable, nameless death at the hands of an unknown tribe of Indians upon the Isthmus of Darien. And now we come to the greatest of all the buccaneers, he who stands pre-eminent among them, and whose name even to this day is a charm to call up his deeds of daring, his dauntless courage, his truculent cruelty, and his insatiate and unappeasable lust for gold--Capt. Henry Morgan, the bold Welshman, who brought buccaneering to the height and flower of its glory. Having sold himself, after the manner of the times, for his passage across the seas, he worked out his time of servitude at the Barbados. As soon as he had regained his liberty he entered upon the trade of piracy, wherein he soon reached a position of considerable prominence. He was associated with Mansvelt at the time of the latter's descent upon Saint Catharine's Isle, the importance of which spot, as a center of operations against the neighboring coasts, Morgan never lost sight of. The first attempt that Capt. Henry Morgan ever made against any town in the Spanish Indies was the bold descent upon the city of Puerto del Principe in the island of Cuba, with a mere handful of men. It was a deed the boldness of which has never been outdone by any of a like nature--not even the famous attack upon Panama itself. Thence they returned to their boats in the very face of the whole island of Cuba, aroused and determined upon their extermination. Not only did they make good their escape, but they brought away with them a vast amount of plunder, computed at three hundred thousand pieces of eight, besides five hundred head of cattle and many prisoners held for ransom. But when the division of all this wealth came to be made, lo! there were only fifty thousand pieces of eight to be found. What had become of the rest no man could tell but Capt. Henry Morgan himself. Honesty among thieves was never an axiom with him. Rude, truculent, and dishonest as Captain Morgan was, he seems to have had a wonderful power of persuading the wild buccaneers under him to submit everything to his judgment, and to rely entirely upon his word. In spite of the vast sum of money that he had very evidently made away with, recruits poured in upon him, until his band was larger and better equipped than ever. And now it was determined that the plunder harvest was ripe at Porto Bello, and that city's doom was sealed. The town was defended by two strong castles thoroughly manned, and officered by as gallant a soldier as ever carried Toledo steel at his side. But strong castles and gallant soldiers weighed not a barleycorn with the buccaneers when their blood was stirred by the lust of gold. Landing at Puerto Naso, a town some ten leagues westward of Porto Bello, they marched to the latter town, and coming before the castle, boldly demanded its surrender. It was refused, whereupon Morgan threatened that no quarter should be given. Still surrender was refused; and then the castle was attacked, and after a bitter struggle was captured. Morgan was as good as his word: every man in the castle was shut in the guard room, the match was set to the powder magazine, and soldiers, castle, and all were blown into the air, while through all the smoke and the dust the buccaneers poured into the town. Still the governor held out in the other castle, and might have made good his defense, but that he was betrayed by the soldiers under him. Into the castle poured the howling buccaneers. But still the governor fought on, with his wife and daughter clinging to his knees and beseeching him to surrender, and the blood from his wounded forehead trickling down over his white collar, until a merciful bullet put an end to the vain struggle. Here were enacted the old scenes. Everything plundered that could be taken, and then a ransom set upon the town itself. This time an honest, or an apparently honest, division was made of the spoils, which amounted to two hundred and fifty thousand pieces of eight, besides merchandise and jewels. The next towns to suffer were poor Maracaibo and Gibraltar, now just beginning to recover from the desolation wrought by l'Olonoise. Once more both towns were plundered of every bale of merchandise and of every plaster, and once more both were ransomed until everything was squeezed from the wretched inhabitants. Here affairs were like to have taken a turn, for when Captain Morgan came up from Gibraltar he found three great men-of-war lying in the entrance to the lake awaiting his coming. Seeing that he was hemmed in in the narrow sheet of water, Captain Morgan was inclined to compromise matters, even offering to relinquish all the plunder he had gained if he were allowed to depart in peace. But no; the Spanish admiral would hear nothing of this. Having the pirates, as he thought, securely in his grasp, he would relinquish nothing, but would sweep them from the face of the sea once and forever. That was an unlucky determination for the Spaniards to reach, for instead of paralyzing the pirates with fear, as he expected it would do, it simply turned their mad courage into as mad desperation. A great vessel that they had taken with the town of Maracaibo was converted into a fire ship, manned with logs of wood in montera caps and sailor jackets, and filled with brimstone, pitch, and palm leaves soaked in oil. Then out of the lake the pirates sailed to meet the Spaniards, the fire ship leading the way, and bearing down directly upon the admiral's vessel. At the helm stood volunteers, the most desperate and the bravest of all the pirate gang, and at the ports stood the logs of wood in montera caps. So they came up with the admiral, and grappled with his ship in spite of the thunder of all his great guns, and then the Spaniard saw, all too late, what his opponent really was. He tried to swing loose, but clouds of smoke and almost instantly a mass of roaring flames enveloped both vessels, and the admiral was lost. The second vessel, not wishing to wait for the coming of the pirates, bore down upon the fort, under the guns of which the cowardly crew sank her, and made the best of their way to the shore. The third vessel, not having an opportunity to escape, was taken by the pirates without the slightest resistance, and the passage from the lake was cleared. So the buccaneers sailed away, leaving Maracaibo and Gibraltar prostrate a second time. And now Captain Morgan determined to undertake another venture, the like of which had never been equaled in all of the annals of buccaneering. This was nothing less than the descent upon and the capture of Panama, which was, next to Cartagena, perhaps, the most powerful and the most strongly fortified city in the West Indies. In preparation for this venture he obtained letters of marque from the governor of Jamaica, by virtue of which elastic commission he began immediately to gather around him all material necessary for the undertaking. When it became known abroad that the great Captain Morgan was about undertaking an adventure that was to eclipse all that was ever done before, great numbers came flocking to his standard, until he had gathered together an army of two thousand or more desperadoes and pirates wherewith to prosecute his adventure, albeit the venture itself was kept a total secret from everyone. Port Couillon, in the island of Hispaniola, over against the Ile de la Vache, was the place of muster, and thither the motley band gathered from all quarters. Provisions had been plundered from the mainland wherever they could be obtained, and by the 24th of October, 1670 (O. S.), everything was in readiness. The island of Saint Catharine, as it may be remembered, was at one time captured by Mansvelt, Morgan's master in his trade of piracy. It had been retaken by the Spaniards, and was now thoroughly fortified by them. Almost the first attempt that Morgan had made as a master pirate was the retaking of Saint Catharine's Isle. In that undertaking he had failed; but now, as there was an absolute need of some such place as a base of operations, he determined that the place must be taken. And it was taken. The Spaniards, during the time of their possession, had fortified it most thoroughly and completely, and had the governor thereof been as brave as he who met his death in the castle of Porto Bello, there might have been a different tale to tell. As it was, he surrendered it in a most cowardly fashion, merely stipulating that there should be a sham attack by the buccaneers, whereby his credit might be saved. And so Saint Catharine was won. The next step to be taken was the capture of the castle of Chagres, which guarded the mouth of the river of that name, up which river the buccaneers would be compelled to transport their troops and provisions for the attack upon the city of Panama. This adventure was undertaken by four hundred picked men under command of Captain Morgan himself. The castle of Chagres, known as San Lorenzo by the Spaniards, stood upon the top of an abrupt rock at the mouth of the river, and was one of the strongest fortresses for its size in all of the West Indies. This stronghold Morgan must have if he ever hoped to win Panama. The attack of the castle and the defense of it were equally fierce, bloody, and desperate. Again and again the buccaneers assaulted, and again and again they were beaten back. So the morning came, and it seemed as though the pirates had been baffled this time. But just at this juncture the thatch of palm leaves on the roofs of some of the buildings inside the fortifications took fire, a conflagration followed, which caused the explosion of one of the magazines, and in the paralysis of terror that followed, the pirates forced their way into the fortifications, and the castle was won. Most of the Spaniards flung themselves from the castle walls into the river or upon the rocks beneath, preferring death to capture and possible torture; many who were left were put to the sword, and some few were spared and held as prisoners. So fell the castle of Chagres, and nothing now lay between the buccaneers and the city of Panama but the intervening and trackless forests. And now the name of the town whose doom was sealed was no secret. Up the river of Chagres went Capt. Henry Morgan and twelve hundred men, packed closely in their canoes; they never stopped, saving now and then to rest their stiffened legs, until they had come to a place known as Cruz de San Juan Gallego, where they were compelled to leave their boats on account of the shallowness of the water. Leaving a guard of one hundred and sixty men to protect their boats as a place of refuge in case they should be worsted before Panama, they turned and plunged into the wilderness before them. There a more powerful foe awaited them than a host of Spaniards with match, powder, and lead--starvation. They met but little or no opposition in their progress; but wherever they turned they found every fiber of meat, every grain of maize, every ounce of bread or meal, swept away or destroyed utterly before them. Even when the buccaneers had successfully overcome an ambuscade or an attack, and had sent the Spaniards flying, the fugitives took the time to strip their dead comrades of every grain of food in their leathern sacks, leaving nothing but the empty bags. Says the narrator of these events, himself one of the expedition, "They afterward fell to eating those leathern bags, as affording something to the ferment of their stomachs." Ten days they struggled through this bitter privation, doggedly forcing their way onward, faint with hunger and haggard with weakness and fever. Then, from the high hill and over the tops of the forest trees, they saw the steeples of Panama, and nothing remained between them and their goal but the fighting of four Spaniards to every one of them--a simple thing which they had done over and over again. Down they poured upon Panama, and out came the Spaniards to meet them; four hundred horse, two thousand five hundred foot, and two thousand wild bulls which had been herded together to be driven over the buccaneers so that their ranks might be disordered and broken. The buccaneers were only eight hundred strong; the others had either fallen in battle or had dropped along the dreary pathway through the wilderness; but in the space of two hours the Spaniards were flying madly over the plain, minus six hundred who lay dead or dying behind them. As for the bulls, as many of them as were shot served as food there and then for the half-famished pirates, for the buccaneers were never more at home than in the slaughter of cattle. Then they marched toward the city. Three hours' more fighting and they were in the streets, howling, yelling, plundering, gorging, dram-drinking, and giving full vent to all the vile and nameless lusts that burned in their hearts like a hell of fire. And now followed the usual sequence of events--rapine, cruelty, and extortion; only this time there was no town to ransom, for Morgan had given orders that it should be destroyed. The torch was set to it, and Panama, one of the greatest cities in the New World, was swept from the face of the earth. Why the deed was done, no man but Morgan could tell. Perhaps it was that all the secret hiding places for treasure might be brought to light; but whatever the reason was, it lay hidden in the breast of the great buccaneer himself. For three weeks Morgan and his men abode in this dreadful place; and they marched away with ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE beasts of burden loaded with treasures of gold and silver and jewels, besides great quantities of merchandise, and six hundred prisoners held for ransom. Whatever became of all that vast wealth, and what it amounted to, no man but Morgan ever knew, for when a division was made it was found that there was only TWO HUNDRED PIECES OF EIGHT TO EACH MAN. When this dividend was declared a howl of execration went up, under which even Capt. Henry Morgan quailed. At night he and four other commanders slipped their cables and ran out to sea, and it was said that these divided the greater part of the booty among themselves. But the wealth plundered at Panama could hardly have fallen short of a million and a half of dollars. Computing it at this reasonable figure, the various prizes won by Henry Morgan in the West Indies would stand as follows: Panama, $1,500,000; Porto Bello, $800,000; Puerto del Principe, $700,000; Maracaibo and Gibraltar, $400,000; various piracies, $250,000--making a grand total of $3,650,000 as the vast harvest of plunder. With this fabulous wealth, wrenched from the Spaniards by means of the rack and the cord, and pilfered from his companions by the meanest of thieving, Capt. Henry Morgan retired from business, honored of all, rendered famous by his deeds, knighted by the good King Charles II, and finally appointed governor of the rich island of Jamaica. Other buccaneers followed him. Campeche was taken and sacked, and even Cartagena itself fell; but with Henry Morgan culminated the glory of the buccaneers, and from that time they declined in power and wealth and wickedness until they were finally swept away. The buccaneers became bolder and bolder. In fact, so daring were their crimes that the home governments, stirred at last by these outrageous barbarities, seriously undertook the suppression of the freebooters, lopping and trimming the main trunk until its members were scattered hither and thither, and it was thought that the organization was exterminated. But, so far from being exterminated, the individual members were merely scattered north, south, east, and west, each forming a nucleus around which gathered and clustered the very worst of the offscouring of humanity. The result was that when the seventeenth century was fairly packed away with its lavender in the store chest of the past, a score or more bands of freebooters were cruising along the Atlantic seaboard in armed vessels, each with a black flag with its skull and crossbones at the fore, and with a nondescript crew made up of the tags and remnants of civilized and semicivilized humanity (white, black, red, and yellow), known generally as marooners, swarming upon the decks below. Nor did these offshoots from the old buccaneer stem confine their depredations to the American seas alone; the East Indies and the African coast also witnessed their doings, and suffered from them, and even the Bay of Biscay had good cause to remember more than one visit from them. Worthy sprigs from so worthy a stem improved variously upon the parent methods; for while the buccaneers were content to prey upon the Spaniards alone, the marooners reaped the harvest from the commerce of all nations. So up and down the Atlantic seaboard they cruised, and for the fifty years that marooning was in the flower of its glory it was a sorrowful time for the coasters of New England, the middle provinces, and the Virginias, sailing to the West Indies with their cargoes of salt fish, grain, and tobacco. Trading became almost as dangerous as privateering, and sea captains were chosen as much for their knowledge of the flintlock and the cutlass as for their seamanship. As by far the largest part of the trading in American waters was conducted by these Yankee coasters, so by far the heaviest blows, and those most keenly felt, fell upon them. Bulletin after bulletin came to port with its doleful tale of this vessel burned or that vessel scuttled, this one held by the pirates for their own use or that one stripped of its goods and sent into port as empty as an eggshell from which the yolk had been sucked. Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Charleston suffered alike, and worthy ship owners had to leave off counting their losses upon their fingers and take to the slate to keep the dismal record. "Maroon--to put ashore on a desert isle, as a sailor, under pretense of having committed some great crime." Thus our good Noah Webster gives us the dry bones, the anatomy, upon which the imagination may construct a specimen to suit itself. It is thence that the marooners took their name, for marooning was one of their most effective instruments of punishment or revenge. If a pirate broke one of the many rules which governed the particular band to which he belonged, he was marooned; did a captain defend his ship to such a degree as to be unpleasant to the pirates attacking it, he was marooned; even the pirate captain himself, if he displeased his followers by the severity of his rule, was in danger of having the same punishment visited upon him which he had perhaps more than once visited upon another. The process of marooning was as simple as terrible. A suitable place was chosen (generally some desert isle as far removed as possible from the pathway of commerce), and the condemned man was rowed from the ship to the beach. Out he was bundled upon the sand spit; a gun, a half dozen bullets, a few pinches of powder, and a bottle of water were chucked ashore after him, and away rowed the boat's crew back to the ship, leaving the poor wretch alone to rave away his life in madness, or to sit sunken in his gloomy despair till death mercifully released him from torment. It rarely if ever happened that anything was known of him after having been marooned. A boat's crew from some vessel, sailing by chance that way, might perhaps find a few chalky bones bleaching upon the white sand in the garish glare of the sunlight, but that was all. And such were marooners. By far the largest number of pirate captains were Englishmen, for, from the days of good Queen Bess, English sea captains seemed to have a natural turn for any species of venture that had a smack of piracy in it, and from the great Admiral Drake of the old, old days, to the truculent Morgan of buccaneering times, the Englishman did the boldest and wickedest deeds, and wrought the most damage. First of all upon the list of pirates stands the bold Captain Avary, one of the institutors of marooning. Him we see but dimly, half hidden by the glamouring mists of legends and tradition. Others who came afterward outstripped him far enough in their doings, but he stands pre-eminent as the first of marooners of whom actual history has been handed down to us of the present day. When the English, Dutch, and Spanish entered into an alliance to suppress buccaneering in the West Indies, certain worthies of Bristol, in old England, fitted out two vessels to assist in this laudable project; for doubtless Bristol trade suffered smartly from the Morgans and the l'Olonoises of that old time. One of these vessels was named the Duke, of which a certain Captain Gibson was the commander and Avary the mate. Away they sailed to the West Indies, and there Avary became impressed by the advantages offered by piracy, and by the amount of good things that were to be gained by very little striving. One night the captain (who was one of those fellows mightily addicted to punch), instead of going ashore to saturate himself with rum at the ordinary, had his drink in his cabin in private. While he lay snoring away the effects of his rum in the cabin, Avary and a few other conspirators heaved the anchor very leisurely, and sailed out of the harbor of Corunna, and through the midst of the allied fleet riding at anchor in the darkness. By and by, when the morning came, the captain was awakened by the pitching and tossing of the vessel, the rattle and clatter of the tackle overhead, and the noise of footsteps passing and repassing hither and thither across the deck. Perhaps he lay for a while turning the matter over and over in his muddled head, but he presently rang the bell, and Avary and another fellow answered the call. "What's the matter?" bawls the captain from his berth. "Nothing," says Avary, coolly. "Something's the matter with the ship," says the captain. "Does she drive? What weather is it?" "Oh no," says Avary; "we are at sea." "At sea?" "Come, come!" says Avary: "I'll tell you; you must know that I'm the captain of the ship now, and you must be packing from this here cabin. We are bound to Madagascar, to make all of our fortunes, and if you're a mind to ship for the cruise, why, we'll be glad to have you, if you will be sober and mind your own business; if not, there is a boat alongside, and I'll have you set ashore." The poor half-tipsy captain had no relish to go a-pirating under the command of his backsliding mate, so out of the ship he bundled, and away he rowed with four or five of the crew, who, like him, refused to join with their jolly shipmates. The rest of them sailed away to the East Indies, to try their fortunes in those waters, for our Captain Avary was of a high spirit, and had no mind to fritter away his time in the West Indies squeezed dry by buccaneer Morgan and others of lesser note. No, he would make a bold stroke for it at once, and make or lose at a single cast. On his way he picked up a couple of like kind with himself--two sloops off Madagascar. With these he sailed away to the coast of India, and for a time his name was lost in the obscurity of uncertain history. But only for a time, for suddenly it flamed out in a blaze of glory. It was reported that a vessel belonging to the Great Mogul, laden with treasure and bearing the monarch's own daughter upon a holy pilgrimage to Mecca (they being Mohammedans), had fallen in with the pirates, and after a short resistance had been surrendered, with the damsel, her court, and all the diamonds, pearls, silk, silver, and gold aboard. It was rumored that the Great Mogul, raging at the insult offered to him through his own flesh and blood, had threatened to wipe out of existence the few English settlements scattered along the coast; whereat the honorable East India Company was in a pretty state of fuss and feathers. Rumor, growing with the telling, has it that Avary is going to marry the Indian princess, willy-nilly, and will turn rajah, and eschew piracy as indecent. As for the treasure itself, there was no end to the extent to which it grew as it passed from mouth to mouth. Cracking the nut of romance and exaggeration, we come to the kernel of the story--that Avary did fall in with an Indian vessel laden with great treasure (and possibly with the Mogul's daughter), which he captured, and thereby gained a vast prize. Having concluded that he had earned enough money by the trade he had undertaken, he determined to retire and live decently for the rest of his life upon what he already had. As a step toward this object, he set about cheating his Madagascar partners out of their share of what had been gained. He persuaded them to store all the treasure in his vessel, it being the largest of the three; and so, having it safely in hand, he altered the course of his ship one fine night, and when the morning came the Madagascar sloops found themselves floating upon a wide ocean without a farthing of the treasure for which they had fought so hard, and for which they might whistle for all the good it would do them. At first Avary had a great part of a mind to settle at Boston, in Massachusetts, and had that little town been one whit less bleak and forbidding, it might have had the honor of being the home of this famous man. As it was, he did not like the looks of it, so he sailed away to the eastward, to Ireland, where he settled himself at Biddeford, in hopes of an easy life of it for the rest of his days. Here he found himself the possessor of a plentiful stock of jewels, such as pearls, diamonds, rubies, etc., but with hardly a score of honest farthings to jingle in his breeches pocket. He consulted with a certain merchant of Bristol concerning the disposal of the stones--a fellow not much more cleanly in his habits of honesty than Avary himself. This worthy undertook to act as Avary's broker. Off he marched with the jewels, and that was the last that the pirate saw of his Indian treasure. Perhaps the most famous of all the piratical names to American ears are those of Capt. Robert Kidd and Capt. Edward Teach, or "Blackbeard." Nothing will be ventured in regard to Kidd at this time, nor in regard to the pros and cons as to whether he really was or was not a pirate, after all. For many years he was the very hero of heroes of piratical fame, there was hardly a creek or stream or point of land along our coast, hardly a convenient bit of good sandy beach, or hump of rock, or water-washed cave, where fabulous treasures were not said to have been hidden by this worthy marooner. Now we are assured that he never was a pirate, and never did bury any treasure, excepting a certain chest, which he was compelled to hide upon Gardiner's Island--and perhaps even it was mythical. So poor Kidd must be relegated to the dull ranks of simply respectable people, or semirespectable people at best. But with "Blackbeard" it is different, for in him we have a real, ranting, raging, roaring pirate per se--one who really did bury treasure, who made more than one captain walk the plank, and who committed more private murders than he could number on the fingers of both hands; one who fills, and will continue to fill, the place to which he has been assigned for generations, and who may be depended upon to hold his place in the confidence of others for generations to come. Captain Teach was a Bristol man born, and learned his trade on board of sundry privateers in the East Indies during the old French war--that of 1702--and a better apprenticeship could no man serve. At last, somewhere about the latter part of the year 1716, a privateering captain, one Benjamin Hornigold, raised him from the ranks and put him in command of a sloop--a lately captured prize and Blackbeard's fortune was made. It was a very slight step, and but the change of a few letters, to convert "privateer" into "pirate," and it was a very short time before Teach made that change. Not only did he make it himself, but he persuaded his old captain to join with him. And now fairly began that series of bold and lawless depredations which have made his name so justly famous, and which placed him among the very greatest of marooning freebooters. "Our hero," says the old historian who sings of the arms and bravery of this great man--"our hero assumed the cognomen of Blackbeard from that large quantity of hair which, like a frightful meteor, covered his whole face, and frightened America more than any comet that appeared there in a long time. He was accustomed to twist it with ribbons into small tails, after the manner of our Ramillies wig, and turn them about his ears. In time of action he wore a sling over his shoulders, with three brace of pistols, hanging in holsters like bandoleers; he stuck lighted matches under his hat, which, appearing on each side of his face, and his eyes naturally looking fierce and wild, made him altogether such a figure that imagination cannot form an idea of a Fury from hell to look more frightful." The night before the day of the action in which he was killed he sat up drinking with some congenial company until broad daylight. One of them asked him if his poor young wife knew where his treasure was hidden. "No," says Blackbeard; "nobody but the devil and I knows where it is, and the longest liver shall have all." As for that poor young wife of his, the life that he and his rum-crazy shipmates led her was too terrible to be told. For a time Blackbeard worked at his trade down on the Spanish Main, gathering, in the few years he was there, a very neat little fortune in the booty captured from sundry vessels; but by and by he took it into his head to try his luck along the coast of the Carolinas; so off he sailed to the northward, with quite a respectable little fleet, consisting of his own vessel and two captured sloops. From that time he was actively engaged in the making of American history in his small way. He first appeared off the bar of Charleston Harbor, to the no small excitement of the worthy town of that ilk, and there he lay for five or six days, blockading the port, and stopping incoming and outgoing vessels at his pleasure, so that, for the time, the commerce of the province was entirely paralyzed. All the vessels so stopped he held as prizes, and all the crews and passengers (among the latter of whom was more than one provincial worthy of the day) he retained as though they were prisoners of war. And it was a mightily awkward thing for the good folk of Charleston to behold day after day a black flag with its white skull and crossbones fluttering at the fore of the pirate captain's craft, over across the level stretch of green salt marshes; and it was mightily unpleasant, too, to know that this or that prominent citizen was crowded down with the other prisoners under the hatches. One morning Captain Blackbeard finds that his stock of medicine is low. "Tut!" says he, "we'll turn no hair gray for that." So up he calls the bold Captain Richards, the commander of his consort the Revenge sloop, and bids him take Mr. Marks (one of his prisoners), and go up to Charleston and get the medicine. There was no task that suited our Captain Richards better than that. Up to the town he rowed, as bold as brass. "Look ye," says he to the governor, rolling his quid of tobacco from one cheek to another--"look ye, we're after this and that, and if we don't get it, why, I'll tell you plain, we'll burn them bloody crafts of yours that we've took over yonder, and cut the weasand of every clodpoll aboard of 'em." There was no answering an argument of such force as this, and the worshipful governor and the good folk of Charleston knew very well that Blackbeard and his crew were the men to do as they promised. So Blackbeard got his medicine, and though it cost the colony two thousand dollars, it was worth that much to the town to be quit of him. They say that while Captain Richards was conducting his negotiations with the governor his boat's crew were stumping around the streets of the town, having a glorious time of it, while the good folk glowered wrathfully at them, but dared venture nothing in speech or act. Having gained a booty of between seven and eight thousand dollars from the prizes captured, the pirates sailed away from Charleston Harbor to the coast of North Carolina. And now Blackbeard, following the plan adopted by so many others of his kind, began to cudgel his brains for means to cheat his fellows out of their share of the booty. At Topsail Inlet he ran his own vessel aground, as though by accident. Hands, the captain of one of the consorts, pretending to come to his assistance, also grounded HIS sloop. Nothing now remained but for those who were able to get away in the other craft, which was all that was now left of the little fleet. This did Blackbeard with some forty of his favorites. The rest of the pirates were left on the sand spit to await the return of their companions--which never happened. As for Blackbeard and those who were with him, they were that much richer, for there were so many the fewer pockets to fill. But even yet there were too many to share the booty, in Blackbeard's opinion, and so he marooned a parcel more of them--some eighteen or twenty--upon a naked sand bank, from which they were afterward mercifully rescued by another freebooter who chanced that way--a certain Major Stede Bonnet, of whom more will presently be said. About that time a royal proclamation had been issued offering pardon to all pirates in arms who would surrender to the king's authority before a given date. So up goes Master Blackbeard to the Governor of North Carolina and makes his neck safe by surrendering to the proclamation--albeit he kept tight clutch upon what he had already gained. And now we find our bold Captain Blackbeard established in the good province of North Carolina, where he and His Worship the Governor struck up a vast deal of intimacy, as profitable as it was pleasant. There is something very pretty in the thought of the bold sea rover giving up his adventurous life (excepting now and then an excursion against a trader or two in the neighboring sound, when the need of money was pressing); settling quietly down into the routine of old colonial life, with a young wife of sixteen at his side, who made the fourteenth that he had in various ports here and there in the world. Becoming tired of an inactive life, Blackbeard afterward resumed his piratical career. He cruised around in the rivers and inlets and sounds of North Carolina for a while, ruling the roost and with never a one to say him nay, until there was no bearing with such a pest any longer. So they sent a deputation up to the Governor of Virginia asking if he would be pleased to help them in their trouble. There were two men-of-war lying at Kicquetan, in the James River, at the time. To them the Governor of Virginia applies, and plucky Lieutenant Maynard, of the Pearl, was sent to Ocracoke Inlet to fight this pirate who ruled it down there so like the cock of a walk. There he found Blackbeard waiting for him, and as ready for a fight as ever the lieutenant himself could be. Fight they did, and while it lasted it was as pretty a piece of business of its kind as one could wish to see. Blackbeard drained a glass of grog, wishing the lieutenant luck in getting aboard of him, fired a broadside, blew some twenty of the lieutenant's men out of existence, and totally crippled one of his little sloops for the balance of the fight. After that, and under cover of the smoke, the pirate and his men boarded the other sloop, and then followed a fine old-fashioned hand-to-hand conflict betwixt him and the lieutenant. First they fired their pistols, and then they took to it with cutlasses--right, left, up and down, cut and slash--until the lieutenant's cutlass broke short off at the hilt. Then Blackbeard would have finished him off handsomely, only up steps one of the lieutenant's men and fetches him a great slash over the neck, so that the lieutenant came off with no more hurt than a cut across the knuckles. At the very first discharge of their pistols Blackbeard had been shot through the body, but he was not for giving up for that--not he. As said before, he was of the true roaring, raging breed of pirates, and stood up to it until he received twenty more cutlass cuts and five additional shots, and then fell dead while trying to fire off an empty pistol. After that the lieutenant cut off the pirate's head, and sailed away in triumph, with the bloody trophy nailed to the bow of his battered sloop. Those of Blackbeard's men who were not killed were carried off to Virginia, and all of them tried and hanged but one or two, their names, no doubt, still standing in a row in the provincial records. But did Blackbeard really bury treasures, as tradition says, along the sandy shores he haunted? Master Clement Downing, midshipman aboard the Salisbury, wrote a book after his return from the cruise to Madagascar, whither the Salisbury had been ordered, to put an end to the piracy with which those waters were infested. He says: "At Guzarat I met with a Portuguese named Anthony de Sylvestre; he came with two other Portuguese and two Dutchmen to take on in the Moor's service, as many Europeans do. This Anthony told me he had been among the pirates, and that he belonged to one of the sloops in Virginia when Blackbeard was taken. He informed me that if it should be my lot ever to go to York River or Maryland, near an island called Mulberry Island, provided we went on shore at the watering place, where the shipping used most commonly to ride, that there the pirates had buried considerable sums of money in great chests well clamped with iron plates. As to my part, I never was that way, nor much acquainted with any that ever used those parts; but I have made inquiry, and am informed that there is such a place as Mulberry Island. If any person who uses those parts should think it worth while to dig a little way at the upper end of a small cove, where it is convenient to land, he would soon find whether the information I had was well grounded. Fronting the landing place are five trees, among which, he said, the money was hid. I cannot warrant the truth of this account; but if I was ever to go there, I should find some means or other to satisfy myself, as it could not be a great deal out of my way. If anybody should obtain the benefit of this account, if it please God that they ever come to England, 'tis hoped they will remember whence they had this information." Another worthy was Capt. Edward Low, who learned his trade of sail-making at good old Boston town, and piracy at Honduras. No one stood higher in the trade than he, and no one mounted to more lofty altitudes of bloodthirsty and unscrupulous wickedness. 'Tis strange that so little has been written and sung of this man of might, for he was as worthy of story and of song as was Blackbeard. It was under a Yankee captain that he made his first cruise--down to Honduras, for a cargo of logwood, which in those times was no better than stolen from the Spanish folk. One day, lying off the shore, in the Gulf of Honduras, comes Master Low and the crew of the whaleboat rowing across from the beach, where they had been all morning chopping logwood. "What are you after?" says the captain, for they were coming back with nothing but themselves in the boat. "We're after our dinner," says Low, as spokesman of the party. "You'll have no dinner," says the captain, "until you fetch off another load." "Dinner or no dinner, we'll pay for it," says Low, wherewith he up with a musket, squinted along the barrel, and pulled the trigger. Luckily the gun hung fire, and the Yankee captain was spared to steal logwood a while longer. All the same, that was no place for Ned Low to make a longer stay, so off he and his messmates rowed in a whaleboat, captured a brig out at sea, and turned pirates. He presently fell in with the notorious Captain Lowther, a fellow after his own kidney, who put the finishing touches to his education and taught him what wickedness he did not already know. And so he became a master pirate, and a famous hand at his craft, and thereafter forever bore an inveterate hatred of all Yankees because of the dinner he had lost, and never failed to smite whatever one of them luck put within his reach. Once he fell in with a ship off South Carolina--the Amsterdam Merchant, Captain Williamson, commander--a Yankee craft and a Yankee master. He slit the nose and cropped the ears of the captain, and then sailed merrily away, feeling the better for having marred a Yankee. New York and New England had more than one visit from the doughty captain, each of which visits they had good cause to remember, for he made them smart for it. Along in the year 1722 thirteen vessels were riding at anchor in front of the good town of Marblehead. Into the harbor sailed a strange craft. "Who is she?" say the townsfolk, for the coming of a new vessel was no small matter in those days. Who the strangers were was not long a matter of doubt. Up goes the black flag, and the skull and crossbones to the fore. "'Tis the bloody Low," say one and all; and straightway all was flutter and commotion, as in a duck pond when a hawk pitches and strikes in the midst. It was a glorious thing for our captain, for here were thirteen Yankee crafts at one and the same time. So he took what he wanted, and then sailed away, and it was many a day before Marblehead forgot that visit. Some time after this he and his consort fell foul of an English sloop of war, the Greyhound, whereby they were so roughly handled that Low was glad enough to slip away, leaving his consort and her crew behind him, as a sop to the powers of law and order. And lucky for them if no worse fate awaited them than to walk the dreadful plank with a bandage around the blinded eyes and a rope around the elbows. So the consort was taken, and the crew tried and hanged in chains, and Low sailed off in as pretty a bit of rage as ever a pirate fell into. The end of this worthy is lost in the fogs of the past: some say that he died of a yellow fever down in New Orleans; it was not at the end of a hempen cord, more's the pity. Here fittingly with our strictly American pirates should stand Major Stede Bonnet along with the rest. But in truth he was only a poor half-and-half fellow of his kind, and even after his hand was fairly turned to the business he had undertaken, a qualm of conscience would now and then come across him, and he would make vast promises to forswear his evil courses. However, he jogged along in his course of piracy snugly enough until he fell foul of the gallant Colonel Rhett, off Charleston Harbor, whereupon his luck and his courage both were suddenly snuffed out with a puff of powder smoke and a good rattling broadside. Down came the "Black Roger" with its skull and crossbones from the fore, and Colonel Rhett had the glory of fetching back as pretty a cargo of scoundrels and cutthroats as the town ever saw. After the next assizes they were strung up, all in a row--evil apples ready for the roasting. "Ned" England was a fellow of different blood--only he snapped his whip across the back of society over in the East Indies and along the hot shores of Hindustan. The name of Capt. Howel Davis stands high among his fellows. He was the Ulysses of pirates, the beloved not only of Mercury, but of Minerva. He it was who hoodwinked the captain of a French ship of double the size and strength of his own, and fairly cheated him into the surrender of his craft without the firing of a single pistol or the striking of a single blow; he it was who sailed boldly into the port of Gambia, on the coast of Guinea, and under the guns of the castle, proclaiming himself as a merchant trading for slaves. The cheat was kept up until the fruit of mischief was ripe for the picking; then, when the governor and the guards of the castle were lulled into entire security, and when Davis's band was scattered about wherever each man could do the most good, it was out pistol, up cutlass, and death if a finger moved. They tied the soldiers back to back, and the governor to his own armchair, and then rifled wherever it pleased them. After that they sailed away, and though they had not made the fortune they had hoped to glean, it was a good snug round sum that they shared among them. Their courage growing high with success, they determined to attempt the island of Del Principe--a prosperous Portuguese settlement on the coast. The plan for taking the place was cleverly laid, and would have succeeded, only that a Portuguese negro among the pirate crew turned traitor and carried the news ashore to the governor of the fort. Accordingly, the next day, when Captain Davis came ashore, he found there a good strong guard drawn up as though to honor his coming. But after he and those with him were fairly out of their boat, and well away from the water side, there was a sudden rattle of musketry, a cloud of smoke, and a dull groan or two. Only one man ran out from under that pungent cloud, jumped into the boat, and rowed away; and when it lifted, there lay Captain Davis and his companions all of a heap, like a pile of old clothes. Capt. Bartholomew Roberts was the particular and especial pupil of Davis, and when that worthy met his death so suddenly and so unexpectedly in the unfortunate manner above narrated, he was chosen unanimously as the captain of the fleet, and he was a worthy pupil of a worthy master. Many were the poor fluttering merchant ducks that this sea hawk swooped upon and struck; and cleanly and cleverly were they plucked before his savage clutch loosened its hold upon them. "He made a gallant figure," says the old narrator, "being dressed in a rich crimson waistcoat and breeches and red feather in his hat, a gold chain around his neck, with a diamond cross hanging to it, a sword in his hand, and two pair of pistols hanging at the end of a silk sling flung over his shoulders according to the fashion of the pyrates." Thus he appeared in the last engagement which he fought--that with the Swallow--a royal sloop of war. A gallant fight they made of it, those bulldog pirates, for, finding themselves caught in a trap betwixt the man-of-war and the shore, they determined to bear down upon the king's vessel, fire a slapping broadside into her, and then try to get away, trusting to luck in the doing, and hoping that their enemy might be crippled by their fire. Captain Roberts himself was the first to fall at the return fire of the Swallow; a grapeshot struck him in the neck, and he fell forward across the gun near to which he was standing at the time. A certain fellow named Stevenson, who was at the helm, saw him fall, and thought he was wounded. At the lifting of the arm the body rolled over upon the deck, and the man saw that the captain was dead. "Whereupon," says the old history, "he" [Stevenson] "gushed into tears, and wished that the next shot might be his portion." After their captain's death the pirate crew had no stomach for more fighting; the "Black Roger" was struck, and one and all surrendered to justice and the gallows. Such is a brief and bald account of the most famous of these pirates. But they are only a few of a long list of notables, such as Captain Martel, Capt. Charles Vane (who led the gallant Colonel Rhett, of South Carolina, such a wild-goose chase in and out among the sluggish creeks and inlets along the coast), Capt. John Rackam, and Captain Anstis, Captain Worley, and Evans, and Philips, and others--a score or more of wild fellows whose very names made ship captains tremble in their shoes in those good old times. And such is that black chapter of history of the past--an evil chapter, lurid with cruelty and suffering, stained with blood and smoke. Yet it is a written chapter, and it must be read. He who chooses may read betwixt the lines of history this great truth: Evil itself is an instrument toward the shaping of good. Therefore the history of evil as well as the history of good should be read, considered, and digested. Chapter II. THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND IT is not so easy to tell why discredit should be cast upon a man because of something that his grandfather may have done amiss, but the world, which is never overnice in its discrimination as to where to lay the blame, is often pleased to make the innocent suffer in the place of the guilty. Barnaby True was a good, honest, biddable lad, as boys go, but yet he was not ever allowed altogether to forget that his grandfather had been that very famous pirate, Capt. William Brand, who, after so many marvelous adventures (if one may believe the catchpenny stories and ballads that were written about him), was murdered in Jamaica by Capt. John Malyoe, the commander of his own consort, the Adventure galley. It has never been denied, that ever I heard, that up to the time of Captain Brand's being commissioned against the South Sea pirates he had always been esteemed as honest, reputable a sea captain as could be. When he started out upon that adventure it was with a ship, the Royal Sovereign, fitted out by some of the most decent merchants of New York. The governor himself had subscribed to the adventure, and had himself signed Captain Brand's commission. So, if the unfortunate man went astray, he must have had great temptation to do so, many others behaving no better when the opportunity offered in those far-away seas where so many rich purchases might very easily be taken and no one the wiser. To be sure, those stories and ballads made our captain to be a most wicked, profane wretch; and if he were, why, God knows he suffered and paid for it, for he laid his bones in Jamaica, and never saw his home or his wife and daughter again after he had sailed away on the Royal Sovereign on that long misfortunate voyage, leaving them in New York to the care of strangers. At the time when he met his fate in Port Royal Harbor he had obtained two vessels under his command--the Royal Sovereign, which was the boat fitted out for him in New York, and the Adventure galley, which he was said to have taken somewhere in the South Seas. With these he lay in those waters of Jamaica for over a month after his return from the coasts of Africa, waiting for news from home, which, when it came, was of the very blackest; for the colonial authorities were at that time stirred up very hot against him to take him and hang him for a pirate, so as to clear their own skirts for having to do with such a fellow. So maybe it seemed better to our captain to hide his ill-gotten treasure there in those far-away parts, and afterward to try and bargain with it for his life when he should reach New York, rather than to sail straight for the Americas with what he had earned by his piracies, and so risk losing life and money both. However that might be, the story was that Captain Brand and his gunner, and Captain Malyoe of the Adventure and the sailing master of the Adventure all went ashore together with a chest of money (no one of them choosing to trust the other three in so nice an affair), and buried the treasure somewhere on the beach of Port Royal Harbor. The story then has it that they fell a-quarreling about a future division or the money, and that, as a wind-up to the affair, Captain Malyoe shot Captain Brand through the head, while the sailing master of the Adventure served the gunner of the Royal Sovereign after the same fashion through the body, and that the murderers then went away, leaving the two stretched out in their own blood on the sand in the staring sun, with no one to know where the money was hid but they two who had served their comrades so. It is a mighty great pity that anyone should have a grandfather who ended his days in such a sort as this, but it was no fault of Barnaby True's, nor could he have done anything to prevent it, seeing that he was not even born into the world at the time that his grandfather turned pirate, and was only one year old when he so met his tragical end. Nevertheless, the boys with whom he went to school never tired of calling him "Pirate," and would sometimes sing for his benefit that famous catchpenny song beginning thus: Oh, my name was Captain Brand, A-sailing, And a-sailing; Oh, my name was Captain Brand, A-sailing free. Oh, my name was Captain Brand, And I sinned by sea and land, For I broke God's just command, A-sailing free. 'Twas a vile thing to sing at the grandson of so misfortunate a man, and oftentimes little Barnaby True would double up his fists and would fight his tormentors at great odds, and would sometimes go back home with a bloody nose to have his poor mother cry over him and grieve for him. Not that his days were all of teasing and torment, neither; for if his comrades did treat him so, why, then, there were other times when he and they were as great friends as could be, and would go in swimming together where there was a bit of sandy strand along the East River above Fort George, and that in the most amicable fashion. Or, maybe the very next day after he had fought so with his fellows, he would go a-rambling with them up the Bowerie Road, perhaps to help them steal cherries from some old Dutch farmer, forgetting in such adventure what a thief his own grandfather had been. Well, when Barnaby True was between sixteen and seventeen years old he was taken into employment in the countinghouse of Mr. Roger Hartright, the well-known West India merchant, and Barnaby's own stepfather. It was the kindness of this good man that not only found a place for Barnaby in the countinghouse, but advanced him so fast that against our hero was twenty-one years old he had made four voyages as supercargo to the West Indies in Mr. Hartright's ship, the Belle Helen, and soon after he was twenty-one undertook a fifth. Nor was it in any such subordinate position as mere supercargo that he acted, but rather as the confidential agent of Mr. Hartright, who, having no children of his own, was very jealous to advance our hero into a position of trust and responsibility in the countinghouse, as though he were indeed a son, so that even the captain of the ship had scarcely more consideration aboard than he, young as he was in years. As for the agents and correspondents of Mr. Hartright throughout these parts, they also, knowing how the good man had adopted his interests, were very polite and obliging to Master Barnaby--especially, be it mentioned, Mr. Ambrose Greenfield, of Kingston, Jamaica, who, upon the occasions of his visits to those parts, did all that he could to make Barnaby's stay in that town agreeable and pleasant to him. So much for the history of our hero to the time of the beginning of this story, without which you shall hardly be able to understand the purport of those most extraordinary adventures that befell him shortly after he came of age, nor the logic of their consequence after they had occurred. For it was during his fifth voyage to the West Indies that the first of those extraordinary adventures happened of which I shall have presently to tell. At that time he had been in Kingston for the best part of four weeks, lodging at the house of a very decent, respectable widow, by name Mrs. Anne Bolles, who, with three pleasant and agreeable daughters, kept a very clean and well-served lodging house in the outskirts of the town. One morning, as our hero sat sipping his coffee, clad only in loose cotton drawers, a shirt, and a jacket, and with slippers upon his feet, as is the custom in that country, where everyone endeavors to keep as cool as may be while he sat thus sipping his coffee Miss Eliza, the youngest of the three daughters, came and gave him a note, which, she said, a stranger had just handed in at the door, going away again without waiting for a reply. You may judge of Barnaby's surprise when he opened the note and read as follows: MR. BARNABY TRUE. SIR,--Though you don't know me, I know you, and I tell you this: if you will be at Pratt's Ordinary on Harbor Street on Friday next at eight o'clock of the evening, and will accompany the man who shall say to you, "The Royal Sovereign is come in," you shall learn something the most to your advantage that ever befell you. Sir, keep this note, and show it to him who shall address these words to you, so to certify that you are the man he seeks. Such was the wording of the note, which was without address, and without any superscription whatever. The first emotion that stirred Barnaby was one of extreme and profound amazement. Then the thought came into his mind that some witty fellow, of whom he knew a good many in that town--and wild, waggish pranks they were was attempting to play off some smart jest upon him. But all that Miss Eliza could tell him when he questioned her concerning the messenger was that the bearer of the note was a tall, stout man, with a red neckerchief around his neck and copper buckles to his shoes, and that he had the appearance of a sailorman, having a great big queue hanging down his back. But, Lord! what was such a description as that in a busy seaport town, full of scores of men to fit such a likeness? Accordingly, our hero put away the note into his wallet, determining to show it to his good friend Mr. Greenfield that evening, and to ask his advice upon it. So he did show it, and that gentleman's opinion was the same as his--that some wag was minded to play off a hoax upon him, and that the matter of the letter was all nothing but smoke. Nevertheless, though Barnaby was thus confirmed in his opinion as to the nature of the communication he had received, he yet determined in his own mind that he would see the business through to the end, and would be at Pratt's Ordinary, as the note demanded, upon the day and at the time specified therein. Pratt's Ordinary was at that time a very fine and well-known place of its sort, with good tobacco and the best rum that ever I tasted, and had a garden behind it that, sloping down to the harbor front, was planted pretty thick with palms and ferns grouped into clusters with flowers and plants. Here were a number of little tables, some in little grottoes, like our Vauxhall in New York, and with red and blue and white paper lanterns hung among the foliage, whither gentlemen and ladies used sometimes to go of an evening to sit and drink lime juice and sugar and water (and sometimes a taste of something stronger), and to look out across the water at the shipping in the cool of the night. Thither, accordingly, our hero went, a little before the time appointed in the note, and passing directly through the Ordinary and the garden beyond, chose a table at the lower end of the garden and close to the water's edge, where he would not be easily seen by anyone coming into the place. Then, ordering some rum and water and a pipe of tobacco, he composed himself to watch for the appearance of those witty fellows whom he suspected would presently come thither to see the end of their prank and to enjoy his confusion. The spot was pleasant enough; for the land breeze, blowing strong and full, set the leaves of the palm tree above his head to rattling and clattering continually against the sky, where, the moon then being about full, they shone every now and then like blades of steel. The waves also were splashing up against the little landing place at the foot of the garden, sounding very cool in the night, and sparkling all over the harbor where the moon caught the edges of the water. A great many vessels were lying at anchor in their ridings, with the dark, prodigious form of a man-of-war looming up above them in the moonlight. There our hero sat for the best part of an hour, smoking his pipe of tobacco and sipping his grog, and seeing not so much as a single thing that might concern the note he had received. It was not far from half an hour after the time appointed in the note, when a rowboat came suddenly out of the night and pulled up to the landing place at the foot of the garden above mentioned, and three or four men came ashore in the darkness. Without saying a word among themselves they chose a near-by table and, sitting down, ordered rum and water, and began drinking their grog in silence. They might have sat there about five minutes, when, by and by, Barnaby True became aware that they were observing him very curiously; and then almost immediately one, who was plainly the leader of the party, called out to him: "How now, messmate! Won't you come and drink a dram of rum with us?" "Why, no," says Barnaby, answering very civilly; "I have drunk enough already, and more would only heat my blood." "All the same," quoth the stranger, "I think you will come and drink with us; for, unless I am mistook, you are Mr. Barnaby True, and I am come here to tell you that the Royal Sovereign is come in." Now I may honestly say that Barnaby True was never more struck aback in all his life than he was at hearing these words uttered in so unexpected a manner. He had been looking to hear them under such different circumstances that, now that his ears heard them addressed to him, and that so seriously, by a perfect stranger, who, with others, had thus mysteriously come ashore out of the darkness, he could scarce believe that his ears heard aright. His heart suddenly began beating at a tremendous rate, and had he been an older and wiser man, I do believe he would have declined the adventure, instead of leaping blindly, as he did, into that of which he could see neither the beginning nor the ending. But being barely one-and-twenty years of age, and having an adventurous disposition that would have carried him into almost anything that possessed a smack of uncertainty or danger about it, he contrived to say, in a pretty easy tone (though God knows how it was put on for the occasion): "Well, then, if that be so, and if the Royal Sovereign is indeed come in, why, I'll join you, since you are so kind as to ask me." And therewith he went across to the other table, carrying his pipe with him, and sat down and began smoking, with all the appearance of ease he could assume upon the occasion. "Well, Mr. Barnaby True," said the man who had before addressed him, so soon as Barnaby had settled himself, speaking in a low tone of voice, so there would be no danger of any others hearing the words--"Well, Mr. Barnaby True--for I shall call you by your name, to show you that though I know you, you don't know me I am glad to see that you are man enough to enter thus into an affair, though you can't see to the bottom of it. For it shows me that you are a man of mettle, and are deserving of the fortune that is to befall you to-night. Nevertheless, first of all, I am bid to say that you must show me a piece of paper that you have about you before we go a step farther." "Very well," said Barnaby; "I have it here safe and sound, and see it you shall." And thereupon and without more ado he fetched out his wallet, opened it, and handed his interlocutor the mysterious note he had received the day or two before. Whereupon the other, drawing to him the candle, burning there for the convenience of those who would smoke tobacco, began immediately reading it. This gave Barnaby True a moment or two to look at him. He was a tall, stout man, with a red handkerchief tied around his neck, and with copper buckles on his shoes, so that Barnaby True could not but wonder whether he was not the very same man who had given the note to Miss Eliza Bolles at the door of his lodging house. "'Tis all right and straight as it should be," the other said, after he had so glanced his eyes over the note. "And now that the paper is read" (suiting his action to his words), "I'll just burn it, for safety's sake." And so he did, twisting it up and setting it to the flame of the candle. "And now," he said, continuing his address, "I'll tell you what I am here for. I was sent to ask you if you're man enough to take your life in your own hands and to go with me in that boat down there? Say 'Yes,' and we'll start away without wasting more time, for the devil is ashore here at Jamaica--though you don't know what that means--and if he gets ahead of us, why, then we may whistle for what we are after. Say 'No,' and I go away again, and I promise you you shall never be troubled again in this sort. So now speak up plain, young gentleman, and tell us what is your mind in this business, and whether you will adventure any farther or not." If our hero hesitated it was not for long. I cannot say that his courage did not waver for a moment; but if it did, it was, I say, not for long, and when he spoke up it was with a voice as steady as could be. "To be sure I'm man enough to go with you," he said; "and if you mean me any harm I can look out for myself; and if I can't, why, here is something can look out for me," and therewith he lifted up the flap of his coat pocket and showed the butt of a pistol he had fetched with him when he had set out from his lodging house that evening. At this the other burst out a-laughing. "Come," says he, "you are indeed of right mettle, and I like your spirit. All the same, no one in all the world means you less ill than I, and so, if you have to use that barker, 'twill not be upon us who are your friends, but only upon one who is more wicked than the devil himself. So come, and let us get away." Thereupon he and the others, who had not spoken a single word for all this time, rose from the table, and he having paid the scores of all, they all went down together to the boat that still lay at the landing place at the bottom of the garden. Thus coming to it, our hero could see that it was a large yawl boat manned with half a score of black men for rowers, and there were two lanterns in the stern sheets, and three or four iron shovels. The man who had conducted the conversation with Barnaby True for all this time, and who was, as has been said, plainly the captain of the party, stepped immediately down into the boat; our hero followed, and the others followed after him; and instantly they were seated the boat was shoved off and the black men began pulling straight out into the harbor, and so, at some distance away, around under the stern of the man-of-war. Not a word was spoken after they had thus left the shore, and presently they might all have been ghosts, for the silence of the party. Barnaby True was too full of his own thoughts to talk--and serious enough thoughts they were by this time, with crimps to trepan a man at every turn, and press gangs to carry a man off so that he might never be heard of again. As for the others, they did not seem to choose to say anything now that they had him fairly embarked upon their enterprise. And so the crew pulled on in perfect silence for the best part of an hour, the leader of the expedition directing the course of the boat straight across the harbor, as though toward the mouth of the Rio Cobra River. Indeed, this was their destination, as Barnaby could after a while see, by the low point of land with a great long row of coconut palms upon it (the appearance of which he knew very well), which by and by began to loom up out of the milky dimness of the moonlight. As they approached the river they found the tide was running strong out of it, so that some distance away from the stream it gurgled and rippled alongside the boat as the crew of black men pulled strongly against it. Thus they came up under what was either a point of land or an islet covered with a thick growth of mangrove trees. But still no one spoke a single word as to their destination, or what was the business they had in hand. The night, now that they were close to the shore, was loud with the noise of running tide-water, and the air was heavy with the smell of mud and marsh, and over all the whiteness of the moonlight, with a few stars pricking out here and there in the sky; and all so strange and silent and mysterious that Barnaby could not divest himself of the feeling that it was all a dream. So, the rowers bending to the oars, the boat came slowly around from under the clump of mangrove bushes and out into the open water again. Instantly it did so the leader of the expedition called out in a sharp voice, and the black men instantly lay on their oars. Almost at the same instant Barnaby True became aware that there was another boat coming down the river toward where they lay, now drifting with the strong tide out into the harbor again, and he knew that it was because of the approach of that boat that the other had called upon his men to cease rowing. The other boat, as well as he could see in the distance, was full of men, some of whom appeared to be armed, for even in the dusk of the darkness the shine of the moonlight glimmered sharply now and then on the barrels of muskets or pistols, and in the silence that followed after their own rowing had ceased Barnaby True could hear the chug! chug! of the oars sounding louder and louder through the watery stillness of the night as the boat drew nearer and nearer. But he knew nothing of what it all meant, nor whether these others were friends or enemies, or what was to happen next. The oarsmen of the approaching boat did not for a moment cease their rowing, not till they had come pretty close to Barnaby and his companions. Then a man who sat in the stern ordered them to cease rowing, and as they lay on their oars he stood up. As they passed by, Barnaby True could see him very plain, the moonlight shining full upon him--a large, stout gentleman with a round red face, and clad in a fine laced coat of red cloth. Amidship of the boat was a box or chest about the bigness of a middle-sized traveling trunk, but covered all over with cakes of sand and dirt. In the act of passing, the gentleman, still standing, pointed at it with an elegant gold-headed cane which he held in his hand. "Are you come after this, Abraham Dawling?" says he, and thereat his countenance broke into as evil, malignant a grin as ever Barnaby True saw in all of his life. The other did not immediately reply so much as a single word, but sat as still as any stone. Then, at last, the other boat having gone by, he suddenly appeared to regain his wits, for he bawled out after it, "Very well, Jack Malyoe! very well, Jack Malyoe! you've got ahead of us this time again, but next time is the third, and then it shall be our turn, even if William Brand must come back from hell to settle with you." This he shouted out as the other boat passed farther and farther away, but to it my fine gentleman made no reply except to burst out into a great roaring fit of laughter. There was another man among the armed men in the stern of the passing boat--a villainous, lean man with lantern jaws, and the top of his head as bald as the palm of my hand. As the boat went away into the night with the tide and the headway the oars had given it, he grinned so that the moonlight shone white on his big teeth. Then, flourishing a great big pistol, he said, and Barnaby could hear every word he spoke, "Do but give me the word, Your Honor, and I'll put another bullet through the son of a sea cook." But the gentleman said some words to forbid him, and therewith the boat was gone away into the night, and presently Barnaby could hear that the men at the oars had begun rowing again, leaving them lying there, without a single word being said for a long time. By and by one of those in Barnaby's boat spoke up. "Where shall you go now?" he said. At this the leader of the expedition appeared suddenly to come back to himself, and to find his voice again. "Go?" he roared out. "Go to the devil! Go? Go where you choose! Go? Go back again--that's where we'll go!" and therewith he fell a-cursing and swearing until he foamed at the lips, as though he had gone clean crazy, while the black men began rowing back again across the harbor as fast as ever they could lay oars into the water. They put Barnaby True ashore below the old custom house; but so bewildered and shaken was he by all that had happened, and by what he had seen, and by the names that he heard spoken, that he was scarcely conscious of any of the familiar things among which he found himself thus standing. And so he walked up the moonlit street toward his lodging like one drunk or bewildered; for "John Malyoe" was the name of the captain of the Adventure galley--he who had shot Barnaby's own grandfather--and "Abraham Dawling" was the name of the gunner of the Royal Sovereign who had been shot at the same time with the pirate captain, and who, with him, had been left stretched out in the staring sun by the murderers. The whole business had occupied hardly two hours, but it was as though that time was no part of Barnaby's life, but all a part of some other life, so dark and strange and mysterious that it in no wise belonged to him. As for that box covered all over with mud, he could only guess at that time what it contained and what the finding of it signified. But of this our hero said nothing to anyone, nor did he tell a single living soul what he had seen that night, but nursed it in his own mind, where it lay so big for a while that he could think of little or nothing else for days after. Mr. Greenfield, Mr. Hartright's correspondent and agent in these parts, lived in a fine brick house just out of the town, on the Mona Road, his family consisting of a wife and two daughters--brisk, lively young ladies with black hair and eyes, and very fine bright teeth that shone whenever they laughed, and with a plenty to say for themselves. Thither Barnaby True was often asked to a family dinner; and, indeed, it was a pleasant home to visit, and to sit upon the veranda and smoke a cigarro with the good old gentleman and look out toward the mountains, while the young ladies laughed and talked, or played upon the guitar and sang. And oftentimes so it was strongly upon Barnaby's mind to speak to the good gentleman and tell him what he had beheld that night out in the harbor; but always he would think better of it and hold his peace, falling to thinking, and smoking away upon his cigarro at a great rate. A day or two before the Belle Helen sailed from Kingston Mr. Greenfield stopped Barnaby True as he was going through the office to bid him to come to dinner that night (for there within the tropics they breakfast at eleven o'clock and take dinner in the cool of the evening, because of the heat, and not at midday, as we do in more temperate latitudes). "I would have you meet," says Mr. Greenfield, "your chief passenger for New York, and his granddaughter, for whom the state cabin and the two staterooms are to be fitted as here ordered [showing a letter]--Sir John Malyoe and Miss Marjorie Malyoe. Did you ever hear tell of Capt. Jack Malyoe, Master Barnaby?" Now I do believe that Mr. Greenfield had no notion at all that old Captain Brand was Barnaby True's own grandfather and Capt. John Malyoe his murderer, but when he so thrust at him the name of that man, what with that in itself and the late adventure through which he himself had just passed, and with his brooding upon it until it was so prodigiously big in his mind, it was like hitting him a blow to so fling the questions at him. Nevertheless, he was able to reply, with a pretty straight face, that he had heard of Captain Malyoe and who he was. "Well," says Mr. Greenfield, "if Jack Malyoe was a desperate pirate and a wild, reckless blade twenty years ago, why, he is Sir John Malyoe now and the owner of a fine estate in Devonshire. Well, Master Barnaby, when one is a baronet and come into the inheritance of a fine estate (though I do hear it is vastly cumbered with debts), the world will wink its eye to much that he may have done twenty years ago. I do hear say, though, that his own kin still turn the cold shoulder to him." To this address Barnaby answered nothing, but sat smoking away at his cigarro at a great rate. And so that night Barnaby True came face to face for the first time with the man who murdered his own grandfather--the greatest beast of a man that ever he met in all of his life. That time in the harbor he had seen Sir John Malyoe at a distance and in the darkness; now that he beheld him near by it seemed to him that he had never looked at a more evil face in all his life. Not that the man was altogether ugly, for he had a good nose and a fine double chin; but his eyes stood out like balls and were red and watery, and he winked them continually, as though they were always smarting; and his lips were thick and purple-red, and his fat, red cheeks were mottled here and there with little clots of purple veins; and when he spoke his voice rattled so in his throat that it made one wish to clear one's own throat to listen to him. So, what with a pair of fat, white hands, and that hoarse voice, and his swollen face, and his thick lips sticking out, it seemed to Barnaby True he had never seen a countenance so distasteful to him as that one into which he then looked. But if Sir John Malyoe was so displeasing to our hero's taste, why, the granddaughter, even this first time he beheld her, seemed to him to be the most beautiful, lovely young lady that ever he saw. She had a thin, fair skin, red lips, and yellow hair--though it was then powdered pretty white for the occasion--and the bluest eyes that Barnaby beheld in all of his life. A sweet, timid creature, who seemed not to dare so much as to speak a word for herself without looking to Sir John for leave to do so, and would shrink and shudder whenever he would speak of a sudden to her or direct a sudden glance upon her. When she did speak, it was in so low a voice that one had to bend his head to hear her, and even if she smiled would catch herself and look up as though to see if she had leave to be cheerful. As for Sir John, he sat at dinner like a pig, and gobbled and ate and drank, smacking his lips all the while, but with hardly a word to either her or Mrs. Greenfield or to Barnaby True; but with a sour, sullen air, as though he would say, "Your damned victuals and drink are no better than they should be, but I must eat 'em or nothing." A great bloated beast of a man! Only after dinner was over and the young lady and the two misses sat off in a corner together did Barnaby hear her talk with any ease. Then, to be sure, her tongue became loose, and she prattled away at a great rate, though hardly above her breath, until of a sudden her grandfather called out, in his hoarse, rattling voice, that it was time to go. Whereupon she stopped short in what she was saying and jumped up from her chair, looking as frightened as though she had been caught in something amiss, and was to be punished for it. Barnaby True and Mr. Greenfield both went out to see the two into their coach, where Sir John's man stood holding the lantern. And who should he be, to be sure, but that same lean villain with bald head who had offered to shoot the leader of our hero's expedition out on the harbor that night! For, one of the circles of light from the lantern shining up into his face, Barnaby True knew him the moment he clapped eyes upon him. Though he could not have recognized our hero, he grinned at him in the most impudent, familiar fashion, and never so much as touched his hat either to him or to Mr. Greenfield; but as soon as his master and his young mistress had entered the coach, banged to the door and scrambled up on the seat alongside the driver, and so away without a word, but with another impudent grin, this time favoring both Barnaby and the old gentleman. Such were these two, master and man, and what Barnaby saw of them then was only confirmed by further observation--the most hateful couple he ever knew; though, God knows, what they afterward suffered should wipe out all complaint against them. The next day Sir John Malyoe's belongings began to come aboard the Belle Helen, and in the afternoon that same lean, villainous manservant comes skipping across the gangplank as nimble as a goat, with two black men behind him lugging a great sea chest. "What!" he cried out, "and so you is the supercargo, is you? Why, I thought you was more account when I saw you last night a-sitting talking with His Honor like his equal. Well, no matter; 'tis something to have a brisk, genteel young fellow for a supercargo. So come, my hearty, lend a hand, will you, and help me set His Honor's cabin to rights." What a speech was this to endure from such a fellow, to be sure! and Barnaby so high in his own esteem, and holding himself a gentleman! Well, what with his distaste for the villain, and what with such odious familiarity, you can guess into what temper so impudent an address must have cast him. "You'll find the steward in yonder," he said, "and he'll show you the cabin," and therewith turned and walked away with prodigious dignity, leaving the other standing where he was. As he entered his own cabin he could not but see, out of the tail of his eye, that the fellow was still standing where he had left him, regarding him with a most evil, malevolent countenance, so that he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had made one enemy during that voyage who was not very likely to forgive or forget what he must regard as a slight put upon him. The next day Sir John Malyoe himself came aboard, accompanied by his granddaughter, and followed by this man, and he followed again by four black men, who carried among them two trunks, not large in size, but prodigious heavy in weight, and toward which Sir John and his follower devoted the utmost solicitude and care to see that they were properly carried into the state cabin he was to occupy. Barnaby True was standing in the great cabin as they passed close by him; but though Sir John Malyoe looked hard at him and straight in the face, he never so much as spoke a single word, or showed by a look or a sign that he knew who our hero was. At this the serving man, who saw it all with eyes as quick as a cat's, fell to grinning and chuckling to see Barnaby in his turn so slighted. The young lady, who also saw it all, flushed up red, then in the instant of passing looked straight at our hero, and bowed and smiled at him with a most sweet and gracious affability, then the next moment recovering herself, as though mightily frightened at what she had done. The same day the Belle Helen sailed, with as beautiful, sweet weather as ever a body could wish for. There were only two other passengers aboard, the Rev. Simon Styles, the master of a flourishing academy in Spanish Town, and his wife, a good, worthy old couple, but very quiet, and would sit in the great cabin by the hour together reading, so that, what with Sir John Malyoe staying all the time in his own cabin with those two trunks he held so precious, it fell upon Barnaby True in great part to show attention to the young lady; and glad enough he was of the opportunity, as anyone may guess. For when you consider a brisk, lively young man of one-and-twenty and a sweet, beautiful miss of seventeen so thrown together day after day for two weeks, the weather being very fair, as I have said, and the ship tossing and bowling along before a fine humming breeze that sent white caps all over the sea, and with nothing to do but sit and look at that blue sea and the bright sky overhead, it is not hard to suppose what was to befall, and what pleasure it was to Barnaby True to show attention to her. But, oh! those days when a man is young, and, whether wisely or no, fallen in love! How often during that voyage did our hero lie awake in his berth at night, tossing this way and that without sleep--not that he wanted to sleep if he could, but would rather lie so awake thinking about her and staring into the darkness! Poor fool! He might have known that the end must come to such a fool's paradise before very long. For who was he to look up to Sir John Malyoe's granddaughter, he, the supercargo of a merchant ship, and she the granddaughter of a baronet. Nevertheless, things went along very smooth and pleasant, until one evening, when all came of a sudden to an end. At that time he and the young lady had been standing for a long while together, leaning over the rail and looking out across the water through the dusk toward the westward, where the sky was still of a lingering brightness. She had been mightily quiet and dull all that evening, but now of a sudden she began, without any preface whatever, to tell Barnaby about herself and her affairs. She said that she and her grandfather were going to New York that they might take passage thence to Boston town, there to meet her cousin Captain Malyoe, who was stationed in garrison at that place. Then she went on to say that Captain Malyoe was the next heir to the Devonshire estate, and that she and he were to be married in the fall. But, poor Barnaby! what a fool was he, to be sure! Methinks when she first began to speak about Captain Malyoe he knew what was coming. But now that she had told him, he could say nothing, but stood there staring across the ocean, his breath coming hot and dry as ashes in his throat. She, poor thing, went on to say, in a very low voice, that she had liked him from the very first moment she had seen him, and had been very happy for these days, and would always think of him as a dear friend who had been very kind to her, who had so little pleasure in life, and so would always remember him. Then they were both silent, until at last Barnaby made shift to say, though in a hoarse and croaking voice, that Captain Malyoe must be a very happy man, and that if he were in Captain Malyoe's place he would be the happiest man in the world. Thus, having spoken, and so found his tongue, he went on to tell her, with his head all in a whirl, that he, too, loved her, and that what she had told him struck him to the heart, and made him the most miserable, unhappy wretch in the whole world. She was not angry at what he said, nor did she turn to look at him, but only said, in a low voice, he should not talk so, for that it could only be a pain to them both to speak of such things, and that whether she would or no, she must do everything as her grandfather bade her, for that he was indeed a terrible man. To this poor Barnaby could only repeat that he loved her with all his heart, that he had hoped for nothing in his love, but that he was now the most miserable man in the world. It was at this moment, so tragic for him, that some one who had been hiding nigh them all the while suddenly moved away, and Barnaby True could see in the gathering darkness that it was that villain manservant of Sir John Malyoe's and knew that he must have overheard all that had been said. The man went straight to the great cabin, and poor Barnaby, his brain all atingle, stood looking after him, feeling that now indeed the last drop of bitterness had been added to his trouble to have such a wretch overhear what he had said. The young lady could not have seen the fellow, for she continued leaning over the rail, and Barnaby True, standing at her side, not moving, but in such a tumult of many passions that he was like one bewildered, and his heart beating as though to smother him. So they stood for I know not how long when, of a sudden, Sir John Malyoe comes running out of the cabin, without his hat, but carrying his gold-headed cane, and so straight across the deck to where Barnaby and the young lady stood, that spying wretch close at his heels, grinning like an imp. "You hussy!" bawled out Sir John, so soon as he had come pretty near them, and in so loud a voice that all on deck might have heard the words; and as he spoke he waved his cane back and forth as though he would have struck the young lady, who, shrinking back almost upon the deck, crouched as though to escape such a blow. "You hussy!" he bawled out with vile oaths, too horrible here to be set down. "What do you do here with this Yankee supercargo, not fit for a gentlewoman to wipe her feet upon? Get to your cabin, you hussy" (only it was something worse he called her this time), "before I lay this cane across your shoulders!" What with the whirling of Barnaby's brains and the passion into which he was already melted, what with his despair and his love, and his anger at this address, a man gone mad could scarcely be less accountable for his actions than was he at that moment. Hardly knowing what he did, he put his hand against Sir John Malyoe's breast and thrust him violently back, crying out upon him in a great, loud, hoarse voice for threatening a young lady, and saying that for a farthing he would wrench the stick out of his hand and throw it overboard. Sir John went staggering back with the push Barnaby gave him, and then caught himself up again. Then, with a great bellow, ran roaring at our hero, whirling his cane about, and I do believe would have struck him (and God knows then what might have happened) had not his manservant caught him and held him back. "Keep back!" cried out our hero, still mighty hoarse. "Keep back! If you strike me with that stick I'll fling you overboard!" By this time, what with the sound of loud voices and the stamping of feet, some of the crew and others aboard were hurrying up, and the next moment Captain Manly and the first mate, Mr. Freesden, came running out of the cabin. But Barnaby, who was by this fairly set agoing, could not now stop himself. "And who are you, anyhow," he cried out, "to threaten to strike me and to insult me, who am as good as you? You dare not strike me! You may shoot a man from behind, as you shot poor Captain Brand on the Rio Cobra River, but you won't dare strike me face to face. I know who you are and what you are!" By this time Sir John Malyoe had ceased to endeavor to strike him, but stood stock-still, his great bulging eyes staring as though they would pop out of his head. "What's all this?" cries Captain Manly, bustling up to them with Mr. Freesden. "What does all this mean?" But, as I have said, our hero was too far gone now to contain himself until all that he had to say was out. "The damned villain insulted me and insulted the young lady," he cried out, panting in the extremity of his passion, "and then he threatened to strike me with his cane. But I know who he is and what he is. I know what he's got in his cabin in those two trunks, and where he found it, and whom it belongs to. He found it on the shores of the Rio Cobra River, and I have only to open my mouth and tell what I know about it." At this Captain Manly clapped his hand upon our hero's shoulder and fell to shaking him so that he could scarcely stand, calling out to him the while to be silent. "What do you mean?" he cried. "An officer of this ship to quarrel with a passenger of mine! Go straight to your cabin, and stay there till I give you leave to come out again." At this Master Barnaby came somewhat back to himself and into his wits again with a jump. "But he threatened to strike me with his cane, Captain," he cried out, "and that I won't stand from any man!" "No matter what he did," said Captain Manly, very sternly. "Go to your cabin, as I bid you, and stay there till I tell you to come out again, and when we get to New York I'll take pains to tell your stepfather of how you have behaved. I'll have no such rioting as this aboard my ship." Barnaby True looked around him, but the young lady was gone. Nor, in the blindness of his frenzy, had he seen when she had gone nor whither she went. As for Sir John Malyoe, he stood in the light of a lantern, his face gone as white as ashes, and I do believe if a look could kill, the dreadful malevolent stare he fixed upon Barnaby True would have slain him where he stood. After Captain Manly had so shaken some wits into poor Barnaby he, unhappy wretch, went to his cabin, as he was bidden to do, and there, shutting the door upon himself, and flinging himself down, all dressed as he was, upon his berth, yielded himself over to the profoundest passion of humiliation and despair. There he lay for I know not how long, staring into the darkness, until by and by, in spite of his suffering and his despair, he dozed off into a loose sleep, that was more like waking than sleep, being possessed continually by the most vivid and distasteful dreams, from which he would awaken only to doze off and to dream again. It was from the midst of one of these extravagant dreams that he was suddenly aroused by the noise of a pistol shot, and then the noise of another and another, and then a great bump and a grinding jar, and then the sound of many footsteps running across the deck and down into the great cabin. Then came a tremendous uproar of voices in the great cabin, the struggling as of men's bodies being tossed about, striking violently against the partitions and bulkheads. At the same instant arose a screaming of women's voices, and one voice, and that Sir John Malyoe's, crying out as in the greatest extremity: "You villains! You damned villains!" and with the sudden detonation of a pistol fired into the close space of the great cabin. Barnaby was out in the middle of his cabin in a moment, and taking only time enough to snatch down one of the pistols that hung at the head of his berth, flung out into the great cabin, to find it as black as night, the lantern slung there having been either blown out or dashed out into darkness. The prodigiously dark space was full of uproar, the hubbub and confusion pierced through and through by that keen sound of women's voices screaming, one in the cabin and the other in the stateroom beyond. Almost immediately Barnaby pitched headlong over two or three struggling men scuffling together upon the deck, falling with a great clatter and the loss of his pistol, which, however, he regained almost immediately. What all the uproar meant he could not tell, but he presently heard Captain Manly's voice from somewhere suddenly calling out, "You bloody pirate, would you choke me to death?" wherewith some notion of what had happened came to him like a dash, and that they had been attacked in the night by pirates. Looking toward the companionway, he saw, outlined against the darkness of the night without, the blacker form of a man's figure, standing still and motionless as a statue in the midst of all this hubbub, and so by some instinct he knew in a moment that that must be the master maker of all this devil's brew. Therewith, still kneeling upon the deck, he covered the bosom of that shadowy figure pointblank, as he thought, with his pistol, and instantly pulled the trigger. In the flash of red light, and in the instant stunning report of the pistol shot, Barnaby saw, as stamped upon the blackness, a broad, flat face with fishy eyes, a lean, bony forehead with what appeared to be a great blotch of blood upon the side, a cocked hat trimmed with gold lace, a red scarf across the breast, and the gleam of brass buttons. Then the darkness, very thick and black, swallowed everything again. But in the instant Sir John Malyoe called out, in a great loud voice: "My God! 'Tis William Brand!" Therewith came the sound of some one falling heavily down. The next moment, Barnaby's sight coming back to him again in the darkness, he beheld that dark and motionless figure still standing exactly where it had stood before, and so knew either that he had missed it or else that it was of so supernatural a sort that a leaden bullet might do it no harm. Though if it was indeed an apparition that Barnaby beheld in that moment, there is this to say, that he saw it as plain as ever he saw a living man in all of his life. This was the last our hero knew, for the next moment somebody--whether by accident or design he never knew--struck him such a terrible violent blow upon the side of the head that he saw forty thousand stars flash before his eyeballs, and then, with a great humming in his head, swooned dead away. When Barnaby True came back to his senses again it was to find himself being cared for with great skill and nicety, his head bathed with cold water, and a bandage being bound about it as carefully as though a chirurgeon was attending to him. He could not immediately recall what had happened to him, nor until he had opened his eyes to find himself in a strange cabin, extremely well fitted and painted with white and gold, the light of a lantern shining in his eyes, together with the gray of the early daylight through the dead-eye. Two men were bending over him--one, a negro in a striped shirt, with a yellow handkerchief around his head and silver earrings in his ears; the other, a white man, clad in a strange outlandish dress of a foreign make, and with great mustachios hanging down, and with gold earrings in his ears. It was the latter who was attending to Barnaby's hurt with such extreme care and gentleness. All this Barnaby saw with his first clear consciousness after his swoon. Then remembering what had befallen him, and his head beating as though it would split asunder, he shut his eyes again, contriving with great effort to keep himself from groaning aloud, and wondering as to what sort of pirates these could be who would first knock a man in the head so terrible a blow as that which he had suffered, and then take such care to fetch him back to life again, and to make him easy and comfortable. Nor did he open his eyes again, but lay there gathering his wits together and wondering thus until the bandage was properly tied about his head and sewed together. Then once more he opened his eyes, and looked up to ask where he was. Either they who were attending to him did not choose to reply, or else they could not speak English, for they made no answer, excepting by signs; for the white man, seeing that he was now able to speak, and so was come back into his senses again, nodded his head three or four times, and smiled with a grin of his white teeth, and then pointed, as though toward a saloon beyond. At the same time the negro held up our hero's coat and beckoned for him to put it on, so that Barnaby, seeing that it was required of him to meet some one without, arose, though with a good deal of effort, and permitted the negro to help him on with his coat, still feeling mightily dizzy and uncertain upon his legs, his head beating fit to split, and the vessel rolling and pitching at a great rate, as though upon a heavy ground swell. So, still sick and dizzy, he went out into what was indeed a fine saloon beyond, painted in white and gilt like the cabin he had just quitted, and fitted in the nicest fashion, a mahogany table, polished very bright, extending the length of the room, and a quantity of bottles, together with glasses of clear crystal, arranged in a hanging rack above. Here at the table a man was sitting with his back to our hero, clad in a rough pea-jacket, and with a red handkerchief tied around his throat, his feet stretched out before him, and he smoking a pipe of tobacco with all the ease and comfort in the world. As Barnaby came in he turned round, and, to the profound astonishment of our hero, presented toward him in the light of the lantern, the dawn shining pretty strong through the skylight, the face of that very man who had conducted the mysterious expedition that night across Kingston Harbor to the Rio Cobra River. This man looked steadily at Barnaby True for a moment or two, and then burst out laughing; and, indeed, Barnaby, standing there with the bandage about his head, must have looked a very droll picture of that astonishment he felt so profoundly at finding who was this pirate into whose hands he had fallen. "Well," says the other, "and so you be up at last, and no great harm done, I'll be bound. And how does your head feel by now, my young master?" To this Barnaby made no reply, but, what with wonder and the dizziness of his head, seated himself at the table over against the speaker, who pushed a bottle of rum toward him, together with a glass from the swinging shelf above. He watched Barnaby fill his glass, and so soon as he had done so began immediately by saying: "I do suppose you think you were treated mightily ill to be so handled last night. Well, so you were treated ill enough--though who hit you that crack upon the head I know no more than a child unborn. Well, I am sorry for the way you were handled, but there is this much to say, and of that you may believe me, that nothing was meant to you but kindness, and before you are through with us all you will believe that well enough." Here he helped himself to a taste of grog, and sucking in his lips, went on again with what he had to say. "Do you remember," said he, "that expedition of ours in Kingston Harbor, and how we were all of us balked that night?" "Why, yes," said Barnaby True, "nor am I likely to forget it." "And do you remember what I said to that villain, Jack Malyoe, that night as his boat went by us?" "As to that," said Barnaby True, "I do not know that I can say yes or no, but if you will tell me, I will maybe answer you in kind." "Why, I mean this," said the other. "I said that the villain had got the better of us once again, but that next time it would be our turn, even if William Brand himself had to come back from hell to put the business through." "I remember something of the sort," said Barnaby, "now that you speak of it, but still I am all in the dark as to what you are driving at." The other looked at him very cunningly for a little while, his head on one side, and his eyes half shut. Then, as if satisfied, he suddenly burst out laughing. "Look hither," said he, "and I'll show you something," and therewith, moving to one side, disclosed a couple of traveling cases or small trunks with brass studs, so exactly like those that Sir John Malyoe had fetched aboard at Jamaica that Barnaby, putting this and that together, knew that they must be the same. Our hero had a strong enough suspicion as to what those two cases contained, and his suspicions had become a certainty when he saw Sir John Malyoe struck all white at being threatened about them, and his face lowering so malevolently as to look murder had he dared do it. But, Lord! what were suspicions or even certainty to what Barnaby True's two eyes beheld when that man lifted the lids of the two cases--the locks thereof having already been forced--and, flinging back first one lid and then the other, displayed to Barnaby's astonished sight a great treasure of gold and silver! Most of it tied up in leathern bags, to be sure, but many of the coins, big and little, yellow and white, lying loose and scattered about like so many beans, brimming the cases to the very top. Barnaby sat dumb-struck at what he beheld; as to whether he breathed or no, I cannot tell; but this I know, that he sat staring at that marvelous treasure like a man in a trance, until, after a few seconds of this golden display, the other banged down the lids again and burst out laughing, whereupon he came back to himself with a jump. "Well, and what do you think of that?" said the other. "Is it not enough for a man to turn pirate for? But," he continued, "it is not for the sake of showing you this that I have been waiting for you here so long a while, but to tell you that you are not the only passenger aboard, but that there is another, whom I am to confide to your care and attention, according to orders I have received; so, if you are ready, Master Barnaby, I'll fetch her in directly." He waited for a moment, as though for Barnaby to speak, but our hero not replying, he arose and, putting away the bottle of rum and the glasses, crossed the saloon to a door like that from which Barnaby had come a little while before. This he opened, and after a moment's delay and a few words spoken to some one within, ushered thence a young lady, who came out very slowly into the saloon where Barnaby still sat at the table. It was Miss Marjorie Malyoe, very white, and looking as though stunned or bewildered by all that had befallen her. Barnaby True could never tell whether the amazing strange voyage that followed was of long or of short duration; whether it occupied three days or ten days. For conceive, if you choose, two people of flesh and blood moving and living continually in all the circumstances and surroundings as of a nightmare dream, yet they two so happy together that all the universe beside was of no moment to them! How was anyone to tell whether in such circumstances any time appeared to be long or short? Does a dream appear to be long or to be short? The vessel in which they sailed was a brigantine of good size and build, but manned by a considerable crew, the most strange and outlandish in their appearance that Barnaby had ever beheld--some white, some yellow, some black, and all tricked out with gay colors, and gold earrings in their ears, and some with great long mustachios, and others with handkerchiefs tied around their heads, and all talking a language together of which Barnaby True could understand not a single word, but which might have been Portuguese from one or two phrases he caught. Nor did this strange, mysterious crew, of God knows what sort of men, seem to pay any attention whatever to Barnaby or to the young lady. They might now and then have looked at him and her out of the corners of their yellow eyes, but that was all; otherwise they were indeed like the creatures of a nightmare dream. Only he who was the captain of this outlandish crew would maybe speak to Barnaby a few words as to the weather or what not when he would come down into the saloon to mix a glass of grog or to light a pipe of tobacco, and then to go on deck again about his business. Otherwise our hero and the young lady were left to themselves, to do as they pleased, with no one to interfere with them. As for her, she at no time showed any great sign of terror or of fear, only for a little while was singularly numb and quiet, as though dazed with what had happened to her. Indeed, methinks that wild beast, her grandfather, had so crushed her spirit by his tyranny and his violence that nothing that happened to her might seem sharp and keen, as it does to others of an ordinary sort. But this was only at first, for afterward her face began to grow singularly clear, as with a white light, and she would sit quite still, permitting Barnaby to gaze, I know not how long, into her eyes, her face so transfigured and her lips smiling, and they, as it were, neither of them breathing, but hearing, as in another far-distant place, the outlandish jargon of the crew talking together in the warm, bright sunlight, or the sound of creaking block and tackle as they hauled upon the sheets. Is it, then, any wonder that Barnaby True could never remember whether such a voyage as this was long or short? It was as though they might have sailed so upon that wonderful voyage forever. You may guess how amazed was Barnaby True when, coming upon deck one morning, he found the brigantine riding upon an even keel, at anchor off Staten Island, a small village on the shore, and the well-known roofs and chimneys of New York town in plain sight across the water. 'Twas the last place in the world he had expected to see. And, indeed, it did seem strange to lie there alongside Staten Island all that day, with New York town so nigh at hand and yet so impossible to reach. For whether he desired to escape or no, Barnaby True could not but observe that both he and the young lady were so closely watched that they might as well have been prisoners, tied hand and foot and laid in the hold, so far as any hope of getting away was concerned. All that day there was a deal of mysterious coming and going aboard the brigantine, and in the afternoon a sailboat went up to the town, carrying the captain, and a great load covered over with a tarpaulin in the stern. What was so taken up to the town Barnaby did not then guess, but the boat did not return again till about sundown. For the sun was just dropping below the water when the captain came aboard once more and, finding Barnaby on deck, bade him come down into the saloon, where they found the young lady sitting, the broad light of the evening shining in through the skylight, and making it all pretty bright within. The captain commanded Barnaby to be seated, for he had something of moment to say to him; whereupon, as soon as Barnaby had taken his place alongside the young lady, he began very seriously, with a preface somewhat thus: "Though you may think me the captain of this brigantine, young gentleman, I am not really so, but am under orders, and so have only carried out those orders of a superior in all these things that I have done." Having so begun, he went on to say that there was one thing yet remaining for him to do, and that the greatest thing of all. He said that Barnaby and the young lady had not been fetched away from the Belle Helen as they were by any mere chance of accident, but that 'twas all a plan laid by a head wiser than his, and carried out by one whom he must obey in all things. He said that he hoped that both Barnaby and the young lady would perform willingly what they would be now called upon to do, but that whether they did it willingly or no, they must, for that those were the orders of one who was not to be disobeyed. You may guess how our hero held his breath at all this; but whatever might have been his expectations, the very wildest of them all did not reach to that which was demanded of him. "My orders are these," said the other, continuing: "I am to take you and the young lady ashore, and to see that you are married before I quit you; and to that end a very good, decent, honest minister who lives ashore yonder in the village was chosen and hath been spoken to and is now, no doubt, waiting for you to come. Such are my orders, and this is the last thing I am set to do; so now I will leave you alone together for five minutes to talk it over, but be quick about it, for whether willing or not, this thing must be done." Thereupon he went away, as he had promised, leaving those two alone together, Barnaby like one turned into stone, and the young lady, her face turned away, flaming as red as fire in the fading light. Nor can I tell what Barnaby said to her, nor what words he used, but only, all in a tumult, with neither beginning nor end he told her that God knew he loved her, and that with all his heart and soul, and that there was nothing in all the world for him but her; but, nevertheless, if she would not have it as had been ordered, and if she were not willing to marry him as she was bidden to do, he would rather die than lend himself to forcing her to do such a thing against her will. Nevertheless, he told her she must speak up and tell him yes or no, and that God knew he would give all the world if she would say "yes." All this and more he said in such a tumult of words that there was no order in their speaking, and she sitting there, her bosom rising and falling as though her breath stifled her. Nor may I tell what she replied to him, only this, that she said she would marry him. At this he took her into his arms and set his lips to hers, his heart all melting away in his bosom. So presently came the captain back into the saloon again, to find Barnaby sitting there holding her hand, she with her face turned away, and his heart beating like a trip hammer, and so saw that all was settled as he would have it. Wherewith he wished them both joy, and gave Barnaby his hand. The yawlboat belonging to the brigantine was ready and waiting alongside when they came upon deck, and immediately they descended to it and took their seats. So they landed, and in a little while were walking up the village street in the darkness, she clinging to his arm as though she would swoon, and the captain of the brigantine and two other men from aboard following after them. And so to the minister's house, finding him waiting for them, smoking his pipe in the warm evening, and walking up and down in front of his own door. He immediately conducted them into the house, where, his wife having fetched a candle, and two others of the village folk being present, the good man having asked several questions as to their names and their age and where they were from, the ceremony was performed, and the certificate duly signed by those present--excepting the men who had come ashore from the brigantine, and who refused to set their hands to any paper. The same sailboat that had taken the captain up to the town in the afternoon was waiting for them at the landing place, whence, the captain, having wished them Godspeed, and having shaken Barnaby very heartily by the hand, they pushed off, and, coming about, ran away with the slant of the wind, dropping the shore and those strange beings alike behind them into the night. As they sped away through the darkness they could hear the creaking of the sails being hoisted aboard of the brigantine, and so knew that she was about to put to sea once more. Nor did Barnaby True ever set eyes upon those beings again, nor did anyone else that I ever heard tell of. It was nigh midnight when they made Mr. Hartright's wharf at the foot of Wall Street, and so the streets were all dark and silent and deserted as they walked up to Barnaby's home. You may conceive of the wonder and amazement of Barnaby's dear stepfather when, clad in a dressing gown and carrying a lighted candle in his hand, he unlocked and unbarred the door, and so saw who it was had aroused him at such an hour of the night, and the young and beautiful lady whom Barnaby had fetched with him. The first thought of the good man was that the Belle Helen had come into port; nor did Barnaby undeceive him as he led the way into the house, but waited until they were all safe and sound in privily together before he should unfold his strange and wonderful story. "This was left for you by two foreign sailors this afternoon, Barnaby," the good old man said, as he led the way through the hall, holding up the candle at the same time, so that Barnaby might see an object that stood against the wainscoting by the door of the dining room. Nor could Barnaby refrain from crying out with amazement when he saw that it was one of the two chests of treasure that Sir John Malyoe had fetched from Jamaica, and which the pirates had taken from the Belle Helen. As for Mr. Hartright, he guessed no more what was in it than the man in the moon. The next day but one brought the Belle Helen herself into port, with the terrible news not only of having been attacked at night by pirates, but also that Sir John Malyoe was dead. For whether it was the sudden shock of the sight of his old captain's face--whom he himself had murdered and thought dead and buried--flashing so out against the darkness, or whether it was the strain of passion that overset his brains, certain it is that when the pirates left the Belle Helen, carrying with them the young lady and Barnaby and the traveling trunks, those left aboard the Belle Helen found Sir John Malyoe lying in a fit upon the floor, frothing at the mouth and black in the face, as though he had been choked, and so took him away to his berth, where, the next morning about ten o'clock, he died, without once having opened his eyes or spoken a single word. As for the villain manservant, no one ever saw him afterward; though whether he jumped overboard, or whether the pirates who so attacked the ship had carried him away bodily, who shall say? Mr. Hartright, after he had heard Barnaby's story, had been very uncertain as to the ownership of the chest of treasure that had been left by those men for Barnaby, but the news of the death of Sir John Malyoe made the matter very easy for him to decide. For surely if that treasure did not belong to Barnaby, there could be no doubt that it must belong to his wife, she being Sir John Malyoe's legal heir. And so it was that that great fortune (in actual computation amounting to upward of sixty-three thousand pounds) came to Barnaby True, the grandson of that famous pirate, William Brand; the English estate in Devonshire, in default of male issue of Sir John Malyoe, descended to Captain Malyoe, whom the young lady was to have married. As for the other case of treasure, it was never heard of again, nor could Barnaby ever guess whether it was divided as booty among the pirates, or whether they had carried it away with them to some strange and foreign land, there to share it among themselves. And so the ending of the story, with only this to observe, that whether that strange appearance of Captain Brand's face by the light of the pistol was a ghostly and spiritual appearance, or whether he was present in flesh and blood, there is only to say that he was never heard of again; nor had he ever been heard of till that time since the day he was so shot from behind by Capt. John Malyoe on the banks of the Rio Cobra River in the year 1733. Chapter III. WITH THE BUCCANEERS Being an Account of Certain Adventures that Befell Henry Mostyn Under Capt. H. Morgan in the Year 1665-66 I. ALTHOUGH this narration has more particularly to do with the taking of the Spanish vice admiral in the harbor of Porto Bello, and of the rescue therefrom of Le Sieur Simon, his wife and daughter (the adventure of which was successfully achieved by Captain Morgan, the famous buccaneer), we shall, nevertheless, premise something of the earlier history of Master Harry Mostyn, whom you may, if you please, consider as the hero of the several circumstances recounted in these pages. In the year 1664 our hero's father embarked from Portsmouth, in England, for the Barbados, where he owned a considerable sugar plantation. Thither to those parts of America he transported with himself his whole family, of whom our Master Harry was the fifth of eight children--a great lusty fellow as little fitted for the Church (for which he was designed) as could be. At the time of this story, though not above sixteen years old, Master Harry Mostyn was as big and well-grown as many a man of twenty, and of such a reckless and dare-devil spirit that no adventure was too dangerous or too mischievous for him to embark upon. At this time there was a deal of talk in those parts of the Americas concerning Captain Morgan, and the prodigious successes he was having pirating against the Spaniards. This man had once been an indentured servant with Mr. Rolls, a sugar factor at the Barbados. Having served out his time, and being of lawless disposition, possessing also a prodigious appetite for adventure, he joined with others of his kidney, and, purchasing a caravel of three guns, embarked fairly upon that career of piracy the most successful that ever was heard of in the world. Master Harry had known this man very well while he was still with Mr. Rolls, serving as a clerk at that gentleman's sugar wharf, a tall, broad-shouldered, strapping fellow, with red cheeks, and thick red lips, and rolling blue eyes, and hair as red as any chestnut. Many knew him for a bold, gruff-spoken man, but no one at that time suspected that he had it in him to become so famous and renowned as he afterward grew to be. The fame of his exploits had been the talk of those parts for above a twelvemonth, when, in the latter part of the year 1665, Captain Morgan, having made a very successful expedition against the Spaniards into the Gulf of Campeche--where he took several important purchases from the plate fleet--came to the Barbados, there to fit out another such venture, and to enlist recruits. He and certain other adventurers had purchased a vessel of some five hundred tons, which they proposed to convert into a pirate by cutting portholes for cannon, and running three or four carronades across her main deck. The name of this ship, be it mentioned, was the Good Samaritan, as ill-fitting a name as could be for such a craft, which, instead of being designed for the healing of wounds, was intended to inflict such devastation as those wicked men proposed. Here was a piece of mischief exactly fitted to our hero's tastes; wherefore, having made up a bundle of clothes, and with not above a shilling in his pocket, he made an excursion into the town to seek for Captain Morgan. There he found the great pirate established at an ordinary, with a little court of ragamuffins and swashbucklers gathered about him, all talking very loud, and drinking healths in raw rum as though it were sugared water. And what a fine figure our buccaneer had grown, to be sure! How different from the poor, humble clerk upon the sugar wharf! What a deal of gold braid! What a fine, silver-hilled Spanish sword! What a gay velvet sling, hung with three silver-mounted pistols! If Master Harry's mind had not been made up before, to be sure such a spectacle of glory would have determined it. This figure of war our hero asked to step aside with him, and when they had come into a corner, proposed to the other what he intended, and that he had a mind to enlist as a gentleman adventurer upon this expedition. Upon this our rogue of a buccaneer captain burst out a-laughing, and fetching Master Harry a great thump upon the back, swore roundly that he would make a man of him, and that it was a pity to make a parson out of so good a piece of stuff. Nor was Captain Morgan less good than his word, for when the Good Samaritan set sail with a favoring wind for the island of Jamaica, Master Harry found himself established as one of the adventurers aboard. II Could you but have seen the town of Port Royal as it appeared in the year 1665 you would have beheld a sight very well worth while looking upon. There were no fine houses at that time, and no great counting houses built of brick, such as you may find nowadays, but a crowd of board and wattled huts huddled along the streets, and all so gay with flags and bits of color that Vanity Fair itself could not have been gayer. To this place came all the pirates and buccaneers that infested those parts, and men shouted and swore and gambled, and poured out money like water, and then maybe wound up their merrymaking by dying of fever. For the sky in these torrid latitudes is all full of clouds overhead, and as hot as any blanket, and when the sun shone forth it streamed down upon the smoking sands so that the houses were ovens and the streets were furnaces; so it was little wonder that men died like rats in a hole. But little they appeared to care for that; so that everywhere you might behold a multitude of painted women and Jews and merchants and pirates, gaudy with red scarfs and gold braid and all sorts of odds and ends of foolish finery, all fighting and gambling and bartering for that ill-gotten treasure of the be-robbed Spaniard. Here, arriving, Captain Morgan found a hearty welcome, and a message from the governor awaiting him, the message bidding him attend His Excellency upon the earliest occasion that offered. Whereupon, taking our hero (of whom he had grown prodigiously fond) along with him, our pirate went, without any loss of time, to visit Sir Thomas Modiford, who was then the royal governor of all this devil's brew of wickedness. They found His Excellency seated in a great easy-chair, under the shadow of a slatted veranda, the floor whereof was paved with brick. He was clad, for the sake of coolness, only in his shirt, breeches, and stockings, and he wore slippers on his feet. He was smoking a great cigarro of tobacco, and a goblet of lime juice and water and rum stood at his elbow on a table. Here, out of the glare of the heat, it was all very cool and pleasant, with a sea breeze blowing violently in through the slats, setting them a-rattling now and then, and stirring Sir Thomas's long hair, which he had pushed back for the sake of coolness. The purport of this interview, I may tell you, concerned the rescue of one Le Sieur Simon, who, together with his wife and daughter, was held captive by the Spaniards. This gentleman adventurer (Le Sieur Simon) had, a few years before, been set up by the buccaneers as governor of the island of Santa Catharina. This place, though well fortified by the Spaniards, the buccaneers had seized upon, establishing themselves thereon, and so infesting the commerce of those seas that no Spanish fleet was safe from them. At last the Spaniards, no longer able to endure these assaults against their commerce, sent a great force against the freebooters to drive them out of their island stronghold. This they did, retaking Santa Catharina, together with its governor, his wife, and daughter, as well as the whole garrison of buccaneers. This garrison was sent by their conquerors, some to the galleys, some to the mines, some to no man knows where. The governor himself--Le Sieur Simon--was to be sent to Spain, there to stand his trial for piracy. The news of all this, I may tell you, had only just been received in Jamaica, having been brought thither by a Spanish captain, one Don Roderiguez Sylvia, who was, besides, the bearer of dispatches to the Spanish authorities relating the whole affair. Such, in fine, was the purport of this interview, and as our hero and his captain walked back together from the governor's house to the ordinary where they had taken up their inn, the buccaneer assured his companion that he purposed to obtain those dispatches from the Spanish captain that very afternoon, even if he had to use force to seize them. All this, you are to understand, was undertaken only because of the friendship that the governor and Captain Morgan entertained for Le Sieur Simon. And, indeed, it was wonderful how honest and how faithful were these wicked men in their dealings with one another. For you must know that Governor Modiford and Le Sieur Simon and the buccaneers were all of one kidney--all taking a share in the piracies of those times, and all holding by one another as though they were the honestest men in the world. Hence it was they were all so determined to rescue Le Sieur Simon from the Spaniards. III Having reached his ordinary after his interview with the governor, Captain Morgan found there a number of his companions, such as usually gathered at that place to be in attendance upon him--some, those belonging to the Good Samaritan; others, those who hoped to obtain benefits from him; others, those ragamuffins who gathered around him because he was famous, and because it pleased them to be of his court and to be called his followers. For nearly always your successful pirate had such a little court surrounding him. Finding a dozen or more of these rascals gathered there, Captain Morgan informed them of his present purpose that he was going to find the Spanish captain to demand his papers of him, and calling upon them to accompany him. With this following at his heels, our buccaneer started off down the street, his lieutenant, a Cornishman named Bartholomew Davis, upon one hand and our hero upon the other. So they paraded the streets for the best part of an hour before they found the Spanish captain. For whether he had got wind that Captain Morgan was searching for him, or whether, finding himself in a place so full of his enemies, he had buried himself in some place of hiding, it is certain that the buccaneers had traversed pretty nearly the whole town before they discovered that he was lying at a certain auberge kept by a Portuguese Jew. Thither they went, and thither Captain Morgan entered with the utmost coolness and composure of demeanor, his followers crowding noisily in at his heels. The space within was very dark, being lighted only by the doorway and by two large slatted windows or openings in the front. In this dark, hot place not over-roomy at the best--were gathered twelve or fifteen villainous-appearing men, sitting at tables and drinking together, waited upon by the Jew and his wife. Our hero had no trouble in discovering which of this lot of men was Captain Sylvia, for not only did Captain Morgan direct his glance full of war upon him, but the Spaniard was clad with more particularity and with more show of finery than any of the others who were there. Him Captain Morgan approached and demanded his papers, whereunto the other replied with such a jabber of Spanish and English that no man could have understood what he said. To this Captain Morgan in turn replied that he must have those papers, no matter what it might cost him to obtain them, and thereupon drew a pistol from his sling and presented it at the other's head. At this threatening action the innkeeper's wife fell a-screaming, and the Jew, as in a frenzy, besought them not to tear the house down about his ears. Our hero could hardly tell what followed, only that all of a sudden there was a prodigious uproar of combat. Knives flashed everywhere, and then a pistol was fired so close to his head that he stood like one stunned, hearing some one crying out in a loud voice, but not knowing whether it was a friend or a foe who had been shot. Then another pistol shot so deafened what was left of Master Harry's hearing that his ears rang for above an hour afterward. By this time the whole place was full of gunpowder smoke, and there was the sound of blows and oaths and outcrying and the clashing of knives. As Master Harry, who had no great stomach for such a combat, and no very particular interest in the quarrel, was making for the door, a little Portuguese, as withered and as nimble as an ape, came ducking under the table and plunged at his stomach with a great long knife, which, had it effected its object, would surely have ended his adventures then and there. Finding himself in such danger, Master Harry snatched up a heavy chair, and, flinging it at his enemy, who was preparing for another attack, he fairly ran for it out of the door, expecting every instant to feel the thrust of the blade betwixt his ribs. A considerable crowd had gathered outside, and others, hearing the uproar, were coming running to join them. With these our hero stood, trembling like a leaf, and with cold chills running up and down his back like water at the narrow escape from the danger that had threatened him. Nor shall you think him a coward, for you must remember he was hardly sixteen years old at the time, and that this was the first affair of the sort he had encountered. Afterward, as you shall learn, he showed that he could exhibit courage enough at a pinch. While he stood there, endeavoring to recover his composure, the while the tumult continued within, suddenly two men came running almost together out of the door, a crowd of the combatants at their heels. The first of these men was Captain Sylvia; the other, who was pursuing him, was Captain Morgan. As the crowd about the door parted before the sudden appearing of these, the Spanish captain, perceiving, as he supposed, a way of escape opened to him, darted across the street with incredible swiftness toward an alleyway upon the other side. Upon this, seeing his prey like to get away from him, Captain Morgan snatched a pistol out of his sling, and resting it for an instant across his arm, fired at the flying Spaniard, and that with so true an aim that, though the street was now full of people, the other went tumbling over and over all of a heap in the kennel, where he lay, after a twitch or two, as still as a log. At the sound of the shot and the fall of the man the crowd scattered upon all sides, yelling and screaming, and the street being thus pretty clear, Captain Morgan ran across the way to where his victim lay, his smoking pistol still in his hand, and our hero following close at his heels. Our poor Harry had never before beheld a man killed thus in an instant who a moment before had been so full of life and activity, for when Captain Morgan turned the body over upon its back he could perceive at a glance, little as he knew of such matters, that the man was stone-dead. And, indeed, it was a dreadful sight for him who was hardly more than a child. He stood rooted for he knew not how long, staring down at the dead face with twitching fingers and shuddering limbs. Meantime a great crowd was gathering about them again. As for Captain Morgan, he went about his work with the utmost coolness and deliberation imaginable, unbuttoning the waistcoat and the shirt of the man he had murdered with fingers that neither twitched nor shook. There were a gold cross and a bunch of silver medals hung by a whipcord about the neck of the dead man. This Captain Morgan broke away with a snap, reaching the jingling baubles to Harry, who took them in his nerveless hand and fingers that he could hardly close upon what they held. The papers Captain Morgan found in a wallet in an inner breast pocket of the Spaniard's waistcoat. These he examined one by one, and finding them to his satisfaction, tied them up again, and slipped the wallet and its contents into his own pocket. Then for the first time he appeared to observe Master Harry, who, indeed, must have been standing, the perfect picture of horror and dismay. Whereupon, bursting out a-laughing, and slipping the pistol he had used back into its sling again, he fetched poor Harry a great slap upon the back, bidding him be a man, for that he would see many such sights as this. But indeed, it was no laughing matter for poor Master Harry, for it was many a day before his imagination could rid itself of the image of the dead Spaniard's face; and as he walked away down the street with his companions, leaving the crowd behind them, and the dead body where it lay for its friends to look after, his ears humming and ringing from the deafening noise of the pistol shots fired in the close room, and the sweat trickling down his face in drops, he knew not whether all that had passed had been real, or whether it was a dream from which he might presently awaken. IV The papers Captain Morgan had thus seized upon as the fruit of the murder he had committed must have been as perfectly satisfactory to him as could be, for having paid a second visit that evening to Governor Modiford, the pirate lifted anchor the next morning and made sail toward the Gulf of Darien. There, after cruising about in those waters for about a fortnight without falling in with a vessel of any sort, at the end of that time they overhauled a caravel bound from Porto Bello to Cartagena, which vessel they took, and finding her loaded with nothing better than raw hides, scuttled and sank her, being then about twenty leagues from the main of Cartagena. From the captain of this vessel they learned that the plate fleet was then lying in the harbor of Porto Bello, not yet having set sail thence, but waiting for the change of the winds before embarking for Spain. Besides this, which was a good deal more to their purpose, the Spaniards told the pirates that the Sieur Simon, his wife, and daughter were confined aboard the vice admiral of that fleet, and that the name of the vice admiral was the Santa Maria y Valladolid. So soon as Captain Morgan had obtained the information he desired he directed his course straight for the Bay of Santo Blaso, where he might lie safely within the cape of that name without any danger of discovery (that part of the mainland being entirely uninhabited) and yet be within twenty or twenty-five leagues of Porto Bello. Having come safely to this anchorage, he at once declared his intentions to his companions, which were as follows: That it was entirely impossible for them to hope to sail their vessel into the harbor of Porto Bello, and to attack the Spanish vice admiral where he lay in the midst of the armed flota; wherefore, if anything was to be accomplished, it must be undertaken by some subtle design rather than by open-handed boldness. Having so prefaced what he had to say, he now declared that it was his purpose to take one of the ship's boats and to go in that to Porto Bello, trusting for some opportunity to occur to aid him either in the accomplishment of his aims or in the gaining of some further information. Having thus delivered himself, he invited any who dared to do so to volunteer for the expedition, telling them plainly that he would constrain no man to go against his will, for that at best it was a desperate enterprise, possessing only the recommendation that in its achievement the few who undertook it would gain great renown, and perhaps a very considerable booty. And such was the incredible influence of this bold man over his companions, and such was their confidence in his skill and cunning, that not above a dozen of all those aboard hung back from the undertaking, but nearly every man desired to be taken. Of these volunteers Captain Morgan chose twenty--among others our Master Harry--and having arranged with his lieutenant that if nothing was heard from the expedition at the end of three days he should sail for Jamaica to await news, he embarked upon that enterprise, which, though never heretofore published, was perhaps the boldest and the most desperate of all those that have since made his name so famous. For what could be a more unparalleled undertaking than for a little open boat, containing but twenty men, to enter the harbor of the third strongest fortress of the Spanish mainland with the intention of cutting out the Spanish vice admiral from the midst of a whole fleet of powerfully armed vessels, and how many men in all the world do you suppose would venture such a thing? But there is this to be said of that great buccaneer: that if he undertook enterprises so desperate as this, he yet laid his plans so well that they never went altogether amiss. Moreover, the very desperation of his successes was of such a nature that no man could suspect that he would dare to undertake such things, and accordingly his enemies were never prepared to guard against his attacks. Aye, had he but worn the king's colors and served under the rules of honest war, he might have become as great and as renowned as Admiral Blake himself. But all that is neither here nor there; what I have to tell you now is that Captain Morgan in this open boat with his twenty mates reached the Cape of Salmedina toward the fall of day. Arriving within view of the harbor they discovered the plate fleet at anchor, with two men-of-war and an armed galley riding as a guard at the mouth of the harbor, scarce half a league distant from the other ships. Having spied the fleet in this posture, the pirates presently pulled down their sails and rowed along the coast, feigning to be a Spanish vessel from Nombre de Dios. So hugging the shore, they came boldly within the harbor, upon the opposite side of which you might see the fortress a considerable distance away. Being now come so near to the consummation of their adventure, Captain Morgan required every man to make an oath to stand by him to the last, whereunto our hero swore as heartily as any man aboard, although his heart, I must needs confess, was beating at a great rate at the approach of what was to happen. Having thus received the oaths of all his followers, Captain Morgan commanded the surgeon of the expedition that, when the order was given, he, the medico, was to bore six holes in the boat, so that, it sinking under them, they might all be compelled to push forward, with no chance of retreat. And such was the ascendancy of this man over his followers, and such was their awe of him, that not one of them uttered even so much as a murmur, though what he had commanded the surgeon to do pledged them either to victory or to death, with no chance to choose between. Nor did the surgeon question the orders he had received, much less did he dream of disobeying them. By now it had fallen pretty dusk, whereupon, spying two fishermen in a canoe at a little distance, Captain Morgan demanded of them in Spanish which vessel of those at anchor in the harbor was the vice admiral, for that he had dispatches for the captain thereof. Whereupon the fishermen, suspecting nothing, pointed to them a galleon of great size riding at anchor not half a league distant. Toward this vessel accordingly the pirates directed their course, and when they had come pretty nigh, Captain Morgan called upon the surgeon that now it was time for him to perform the duty that had been laid upon him. Whereupon the other did as he was ordered, and that so thoroughly that the water presently came gushing into the boat in great streams, whereat all hands pulled for the galleon as though every next moment was to be their last. And what do you suppose were our hero's emotions at this time? Like all in the boat, his awe of Captain Morgan was so great that I do believe he would rather have gone to the bottom than have questioned his command, even when it was to scuttle the boat. Nevertheless, when he felt the cold water gushing about his feet (for he had taken off his shoes and stockings) he became possessed with such a fear of being drowned that even the Spanish galleon had no terrors for him if he could only feel the solid planks thereof beneath his feet. Indeed, all the crew appeared to be possessed of a like dismay, for they pulled at the oars with such an incredible force that they were under the quarter of the galleon before the boat was half filled with water. Here, as they approached, it then being pretty dark and the moon not yet having risen, the watch upon the deck hailed them, whereupon Captain Morgan called out in Spanish that he was Capt. Alvarez Mendazo, and that he brought dispatches for the vice admiral. But at that moment, the boat being now so full of water as to be logged, it suddenly tilted upon one side as though to sink beneath them, whereupon all hands, without further orders, went scrambling up the side, as nimble as so many monkeys, each armed with a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other, and so were upon deck before the watch could collect his wits to utter any outcry or to give any other alarm than to cry out, "Jesu bless us! who are these?" at which words somebody knocked him down with the butt of a pistol, though who it was our hero could not tell in the darkness and the hurry. Before any of those upon deck could recover from their alarm or those from below come up upon deck, a part of the pirates, under the carpenter and the surgeon, had run to the gun room and had taken possession of the arms, while Captain Morgan, with Master Harry and a Portuguese called Murillo Braziliano, had flown with the speed of the wind into the great cabin. Here they found the captain of the vice admiral playing at cards with the Sieur Simon and a friend, Madam Simon and her daughter being present. Captain Morgan instantly set his pistol at the breast of the Spanish captain, swearing with a most horrible fierce countenance that if he spake a word or made any outcry he was a dead man. As for our hero, having now got his hand into the game, he performed the same service for the Spaniard's friend, declaring he would shoot him dead if he opened his lips or lifted so much as a single finger. All this while the ladies, not comprehending what had occurred, had sat as mute as stones; but now having so far recovered themselves as to find a voice, the younger of the two fell to screaming, at which the Sieur Simon called out to her to be still, for these were friends who had come to help them, and not enemies who had come to harm them. All this, you are to understand, occupied only a little while, for in less than a minute three or four of the pirates had come into the cabin, who, together with the Portuguese, proceeded at once to bind the two Spaniards hand and foot, and to gag them. This being done to our buccaneer's satisfaction, and the Spanish captain being stretched out in the corner of the cabin, he instantly cleared his countenance of its terrors, and bursting forth into a great loud laugh, clapped his hand to the Sieur Simon's, which he wrung with the best will in the world. Having done this, and being in a fine humor after this his first success, he turned to the two ladies. "And this, ladies," said he, taking our hero by the hand and presenting him, "is a young gentleman who has embarked with me to learn the trade of piracy. I recommend him to your politeness." Think what a confusion this threw our Master Harry into, to be sure, who at his best was never easy in the company of strange ladies! You may suppose what must have been his emotions to find himself thus introduced to the attention of Madam Simon and her daughter, being at the time in his bare feet, clad only in his shirt and breeches, and with no hat upon his head, a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other. However, he was not left for long to his embarrassments, for almost immediately after he had thus far relaxed, Captain Morgan fell of a sudden serious again, and bidding the Sieur Simon to get his ladies away into some place of safety, for the most hazardous part of this adventure was yet to occur, he quitted the cabin with Master Harry and the other pirates (for you may call him a pirate now) at his heels. Having come upon deck, our hero beheld that a part of the Spanish crew were huddled forward in a flock like so many sheep (the others being crowded below with the hatches fastened upon them), and such was the terror of the pirates, and so dreadful the name of Henry Morgan, that not one of those poor wretches dared to lift up his voice to give any alarm, nor even to attempt an escape by jumping overboard. At Captain Morgan's orders, these men, together with certain of his own company, ran nimbly aloft and began setting the sails, which, the night now having fallen pretty thick, was not for a good while observed by any of the vessels riding at anchor about them. Indeed, the pirates might have made good their escape, with at most only a shot or two from the men-of-war, had it not then been about the full of the moon, which, having arisen, presently discovered to those of the fleet that lay closest about them what was being done aboard the vice admiral. At this one of the vessels hailed them, and then after a while, having no reply, hailed them again. Even then the Spaniards might not immediately have suspected anything was amiss but only that the vice admiral for some reason best known to himself was shifting his anchorage, had not one of the Spaniards aloft--but who it was Captain Morgan was never able to discover--answered the hail by crying out that the vice admiral had been seized by the pirates. At this the alarm was instantly given and the mischief done, for presently there was a tremendous bustle through that part of the fleet lying nighest the vice admiral--a deal of shouting of orders, a beating of drums, and the running hither and thither of the crews. But by this time the sails of the vice admiral had filled with a strong land breeze that was blowing up the harbor, whereupon the carpenter, at Captain Morgan's orders, having cut away both anchors, the galleon presently bore away up the harbor, gathering headway every moment with the wind nearly dead astern. The nearest vessel was the only one that for the moment was able to offer any hindrance. This ship, having by this time cleared away one of its guns, was able to fire a parting shot against the vice-admiral, striking her somewhere forward, as our hero could see by a great shower of splinters that flew up in the moonlight. At the sound of the shot all the vessels of the flota not yet disturbed by the alarm were aroused at once, so that the pirates had the satisfaction of knowing that they would have to run the gantlet of all the ships between them and the open sea before they could reckon themselves escaped. And, indeed, to our hero's mind it seemed that the battle which followed must have been the most terrific cannonade that was ever heard in the world. It was not so ill at first, for it was some while before the Spaniards could get their guns clear for action, they being not the least in the world prepared for such an occasion as this. But by and by first one and then another ship opened fire upon the galleon, until it seemed to our hero that all the thunders of heaven let loose upon them could not have created a more prodigious uproar, and that it was not possible that they could any of them escape destruction. By now the moon had risen full and round, so that the clouds of smoke that rose in the air appeared as white as snow. The air seemed full of the hiss and screaming of shot, each one of which, when it struck the galleon, was magnified by our hero's imagination into ten times its magnitude from the crash which it delivered and from the cloud of splinters it would cast up into the moonlight. At last he suddenly beheld one poor man knocked sprawling across the deck, who, as he raised his arm from behind the mast, disclosed that the hand was gone from it, and that the shirt sleeve was red with blood in the moonlight. At this sight all the strength fell away from poor Harry, and he felt sure that a like fate or even a worse must be in store for him. But, after all, this was nothing to what it might have been in broad daylight, for what with the darkness of night, and the little preparation the Spaniards could make for such a business, and the extreme haste with which they discharged their guns (many not understanding what was the occasion of all this uproar), nearly all the shot flew so wide of the mark that not above one in twenty struck that at which it was aimed. Meantime Captain Morgan, with the Sieur Simon, who had followed him upon deck, stood just above where our hero lay behind the shelter of the bulwark. The captain had lit a pipe of tobacco, and he stood now in the bright moonlight close to the rail, with his hands behind him, looking out ahead with the utmost coolness imaginable, and paying no more attention to the din of battle than though it were twenty leagues away. Now and then he would take his pipe from his lips to utter an order to the man at the wheel. Excepting this he stood there hardly moving at all, the wind blowing his long red hair over his shoulders. Had it not been for the armed galley the pirates might have got the galleon away with no great harm done in spite of all this cannonading, for the man-of-war which rode at anchor nighest to them at the mouth of the harbor was still so far away that they might have passed it by hugging pretty close to the shore, and that without any great harm being done to them in the darkness. But just at this moment, when the open water lay in sight, came this galley pulling out from behind the point of the shore in such a manner as either to head our pirates off entirely or else to compel them to approach so near to the man-of-war that that latter vessel could bring its guns to bear with more effect. This galley, I must tell you, was like others of its kind such as you may find in these waters, the hull being long and cut low to the water so as to allow the oars to dip freely. The bow was sharp and projected far out ahead, mounting a swivel upon it, while at the stern a number of galleries built one above another into a castle gave shelter to several companies of musketeers as well as the officers commanding them. Our hero could behold the approach of this galley from above the starboard bulwarks, and it appeared to him impossible for them to hope to escape either it or the man-of-war. But still Captain Morgan maintained the same composure that he had exhibited all the while, only now and then delivering an order to the man at the wheel, who, putting the helm over, threw the bows of the galleon around more to the larboard, as though to escape the bow of the galley and get into the open water beyond. This course brought the pirates ever closer and closer to the man-of-war, which now began to add its thunder to the din of the battle, and with so much more effect that at every discharge you might hear the crashing and crackling of splintered wood, and now and then the outcry or groaning of some man who was hurt. Indeed, had it been daylight, they must at this juncture all have perished, though, as was said, what with the night and the confusion and the hurry, they escaped entire destruction, though more by a miracle than through any policy upon their own part. Meantime the galley, steering as though to come aboard of them, had now come so near that it, too, presently began to open its musketry fire upon them, so that the humming and rattling of bullets were presently added to the din of cannonading. In two minutes more it would have been aboard of them, when in a moment Captain Morgan roared out of a sudden to the man at the helm to put it hard a starboard. In response the man ran the wheel over with the utmost quickness, and the galleon, obeying her helm very readily, came around upon a course which, if continued, would certainly bring them into collision with their enemy. It is possible at first the Spaniards imagined the pirates intended to escape past their stern, for they instantly began backing oars to keep them from getting past, so that the water was all of a foam about them, at the same time they did this they poured in such a fire of musketry that it was a miracle that no more execution was accomplished than happened. As for our hero, methinks for the moment he forgot all about everything else than as to whether or no his captain's maneuver would succeed, for in the very first moment he divined, as by some instinct, what Captain Morgan purposed doing. At this moment, so particular in the execution of this nice design, a bullet suddenly struck down the man at the wheel. Hearing the sharp outcry, our Harry turned to see him fall forward, and then to his hands and knees upon the deck, the blood running in a black pool beneath him, while the wheel, escaping from his hands, spun over until the spokes were all of a mist. In a moment the ship would have fallen off before the wind had not our hero, leaping to the wheel (even as Captain Morgan shouted an order for some one to do so), seized the flying spokes, whirling them back again, and so bringing the bow of the galleon up to its former course. In the first moment of this effort he had reckoned of nothing but of carrying out his captain's designs. He neither thought of cannon balls nor of bullets. But now that his task was accomplished, he came suddenly back to himself to find the galleries of the galley aflame with musket shots, and to become aware with a most horrible sinking of the spirits that all the shots therefrom were intended for him. He cast his eyes about him with despair, but no one came to ease him of his task, which, having undertaken, he had too much spirit to resign from carrying through to the end, though he was well aware that the very next instant might mean his sudden and violent death. His ears hummed and rang, and his brain swam as light as a feather. I know not whether he breathed, but he shut his eyes tight as though that might save him from the bullets that were raining about him. At this moment the Spaniards must have discovered for the first time the pirates' design, for of a sudden they ceased firing, and began to shout out a multitude of orders, while the oars lashed the water all about with a foam. But it was too late then for them to escape, for within a couple of seconds the galleon struck her enemy a blow so violent upon the larboard quarter as nearly to hurl our Harry upon the deck, and then with a dreadful, horrible crackling of wood, commingled with a yelling of men's voices, the galley was swung around upon her side, and the galleon, sailing into the open sea, left nothing of her immediate enemy but a sinking wreck, and the water dotted all over with bobbing heads and waving hands in the moonlight. And now, indeed, that all danger was past and gone, there were plenty to come running to help our hero at the wheel. As for Captain Morgan, having come down upon the main deck, he fetches the young helmsman a clap upon the back. "Well, Master Harry," says he, "and did I not tell you I would make a man of you?" Whereat our poor Harry fell a-laughing, but with a sad catch in his voice, for his hands trembled as with an ague, and were as cold as ice. As for his emotions, God knows he was nearer crying than laughing, if Captain Morgan had but known it. Nevertheless, though undertaken under the spur of the moment, I protest it was indeed a brave deed, and I cannot but wonder how many young gentlemen of sixteen there are to-day who, upon a like occasion, would act as well as our Harry. V The balance of our hero's adventures were of a lighter sort than those already recounted, for the next morning the Spanish captain (a very polite and well-bred gentleman) having fitted him out with a shift of his own clothes, Master Harry was presented in a proper form to the ladies. For Captain Morgan, if he had felt a liking for the young man before, could not now show sufficient regard for him. He ate in the great cabin and was petted by all. Madam Simon, who was a fat and red-faced lady, was forever praising him, and the young miss, who was extremely well-looking, was as continually making eyes at him. She and Master Harry, I must tell you, would spend hours together, she making pretense of teaching him French, although he was so possessed with a passion of love that he was nigh suffocated with it. She, upon her part, perceiving his emotions, responded with extreme good nature and complacency, so that had our hero been older, and the voyage proved longer, he might have become entirely enmeshed in the toils of his fair siren. For all this while, you are to understand, the pirates were making sail straight for Jamaica, which they reached upon the third day in perfect safety. In that time, however, the pirates had well-nigh gone crazy for joy; for when they came to examine their purchase they discovered her cargo to consist of plate to the prodigious sum of L180,000 in value. 'Twas a wonder they did not all make themselves drunk for joy. No doubt they would have done so had not Captain Morgan, knowing they were still in the exact track of the Spanish fleets, threatened them that the first man among them who touched a drop of rum without his permission he would shoot him dead upon the deck. This threat had such effect that they all remained entirely sober until they had reached Port Royal Harbor, which they did about nine o'clock in the morning. And now it was that our hero's romance came all tumbling down about his ears with a run. For they had hardly come to anchor in the harbor when a boat came from a man-of-war, and who should come stepping aboard but Lieutenant Grantley (a particular friend of our hero's father) and his own eldest brother Thomas, who, putting on a very stern face, informed Master Harry that he was a desperate and hardened villain who was sure to end at the gallows, and that he was to go immediately back to his home again. He told our embryo pirate that his family had nigh gone distracted because of his wicked and ungrateful conduct. Nor could our hero move him from his inflexible purpose. "What," says our Harry, "and will you not then let me wait until our prize is divided and I get my share?" "Prize, indeed!" says his brother. "And do you then really think that your father would consent to your having a share in this terrible bloody and murthering business?" And so, after a good deal of argument, our hero was constrained to go; nor did he even have an opportunity to bid adieu to his inamorata. Nor did he see her any more, except from a distance, she standing on the poop deck as he was rowed away from her, her face all stained with crying. For himself, he felt that there was no more joy in life; nevertheless, standing up in the stern of the boat, he made shift, though with an aching heart, to deliver her a fine bow with the hat he had borrowed from the Spanish captain, before his brother bade him sit down again. And so to the ending of this story, with only this to relate, that our Master Harry, so far from going to the gallows, became in good time a respectable and wealthy sugar merchant with an English wife and a fine family of children, whereunto, when the mood was upon him, he has sometimes told these adventures (and sundry others not here recounted), as I have told them unto you. Chapter IV. TOM CHIST AND THE TREASURE BOX An Old-time Story of the Days of Captain Kidd I TO tell about Tom Chist, and how he got his name, and how he came to be living at the little settlement of Henlopen, just inside the mouth of the Delaware Bay, the story must begin as far back as 1686, when a great storm swept the Atlantic coast from end to end. During the heaviest part of the hurricane a bark went ashore on the Hen-and-Chicken Shoals, just below Cape Henlopen and at the mouth of the Delaware Bay, and Tom Chist was the only soul of all those on board the ill-fated vessel who escaped alive. This story must first be told, because it was on account of the strange and miraculous escape that happened to him at that time that he gained the name that was given to him. Even as late as that time of the American colonies, the little scattered settlement at Henlopen, made up of English, with a few Dutch and Swedish people, was still only a spot upon the face of the great American wilderness that spread away, with swamp and forest, no man knew how far to the westward. That wilderness was not only full of wild beasts, but of Indian savages, who every fall would come in wandering tribes to spend the winter along the shores of the fresh-water lakes below Henlopen. There for four or five months they would live upon fish and clams and wild ducks and geese, chipping their arrowheads, and making their earthenware pots and pans under the lee of the sand hills and pine woods below the Capes. Sometimes on Sundays, when the Rev. Hillary Jones would be preaching in the little log church back in the woods, these half-clad red savages would come in from the cold, and sit squatting in the back part of the church, listening stolidly to the words that had no meaning for them. But about the wreck of the bark in 1686. Such a wreck as that which then went ashore on the Hen-and-Chicken Shoals was a godsend to the poor and needy settlers in the wilderness where so few good things ever came. For the vessel went to pieces during the night, and the next morning the beach was strewn with wreckage--boxes and barrels, chests and spars, timbers and planks, a plentiful and bountiful harvest, to be gathered up by the settlers as they chose, with no one to forbid or prevent them. The name of the bark, as found painted on some of the water barrels and sea chests, was the Bristol Merchant, and she no doubt hailed from England. As was said, the only soul who escaped alive off the wreck was Tom Chist. A settler, a fisherman named Matt Abrahamson, and his daughter Molly, found Tom. He was washed up on the beach among the wreckage, in a great wooden box which had been securely tied around with a rope and lashed between two spars--apparently for better protection in beating through the surf. Matt Abrahamson thought he had found something of more than usual value when he came upon this chest; but when he cut the cords and broke open the box with his broadax, he could not have been more astonished had he beheld a salamander instead of a baby of nine or ten months old lying half smothered in the blankets that covered the bottom of the chest. Matt Abrahamson's daughter Molly had had a baby who had died a month or so before. So when she saw the little one lying there in the bottom of the chest, she cried out in a great loud voice that the Good Man had sent her another baby in place of her own. The rain was driving before the hurricane storm in dim, slanting sheets, and so she wrapped up the baby in the man's coat she wore and ran off home without waiting to gather up any more of the wreckage. It was Parson Jones who gave the foundling his name. When the news came to his ears of what Matt Abrahamson had found he went over to the fisherman's cabin to see the child. He examined the clothes in which the baby was dressed. They were of fine linen and handsomely stitched, and the reverend gentleman opined that the foundling's parents must have been of quality. A kerchief had been wrapped around the baby's neck and under its arms and tied behind, and in the corner, marked with very fine needlework, were the initials T. C. "What d'ye call him, Molly?" said Parson Jones. He was standing, as he spoke, with his back to the fire, warming his palms before the blaze. The pocket of the greatcoat he wore bulged out with a big case bottle of spirits which he had gathered up out of the wreck that afternoon. "What d'ye call him, Molly?" "I'll call him Tom, after my own baby." "That goes very well with the initial on the kerchief," said Parson Jones. "But what other name d'ye give him? Let it be something to go with the C." "I don't know," said Molly. "Why not call him 'Chist,' since he was born in a chist out of the sea? 'Tom Chist'--the name goes off like a flash in the pan." And so "Tom Chist" he was called and "Tom Chist" he was christened. So much for the beginning of the history of Tom Chist. The story of Captain Kidd's treasure box does not begin until the late spring of 1699. That was the year that the famous pirate captain, coming up from the West Indies, sailed his sloop into the Delaware Bay, where he lay for over a month waiting for news from his friends in New York. For he had sent word to that town asking if the coast was clear for him to return home with the rich prize he had brought from the Indian seas and the coast of Africa, and meantime he lay there in the Delaware Bay waiting for a reply. Before he left he turned the whole of Tom Chist's life topsy-turvy with something that he brought ashore. By that time Tom Chist had grown into a strong-limbed, thick-jointed boy of fourteen or fifteen years of age. It was a miserable dog's life he lived with old Matt Abrahamson, for the old fisherman was in his cups more than half the time, and when he was so there was hardly a day passed that he did not give Tom a curse or a buffet or, as like as not, an actual beating. One would have thought that such treatment would have broken the spirit of the poor little foundling, but it had just the opposite effect upon Tom Chist, who was one of your stubborn, sturdy, stiff-willed fellows who only grow harder and more tough the more they are ill-treated. It had been a long time now since he had made any outcry or complaint at the hard usage he suffered from old Matt. At such times he would shut his teeth and bear whatever came to him, until sometimes the half-drunken old man would be driven almost mad by his stubborn silence. Maybe he would stop in the midst of the beating he was administering, and, grinding his teeth, would cry out: "Won't ye say naught? Won't ye say naught? Well, then, I'll see if I can't make ye say naught." When things had reached such a pass as this Molly would generally interfere to protect her foster son, and then she and Tom would together fight the old man until they had wrenched the stick or the strap out of his hand. Then old Matt would chase them out of doors and around and around the house for maybe half an hour, until his anger was cool, when he would go back again, and for a time the storm would be over. Besides his foster mother, Tom Chist had a very good friend in Parson Jones, who used to come over every now and then to Abrahamson's hut upon the chance of getting a half dozen fish for breakfast. He always had a kind word or two for Tom, who during the winter evenings would go over to the good man's house to learn his letters, and to read and write and cipher a little, so that by now he was able to spell the words out of the Bible and the almanac, and knew enough to change tuppence into four ha'pennies. This is the sort of boy Tom Chist was, and this is the sort of life he led. In the late spring or early summer of 1699 Captain Kidd's sloop sailed into the mouth of the Delaware Bay and changed the whole fortune of his life. And this is how you come to the story of Captain Kidd's treasure box. II Old Matt Abrahamson kept the flat-bottomed boat in which he went fishing some distance down the shore, and in the neighborhood of the old wreck that had been sunk on the Shoals. This was the usual fishing ground of the settlers, and here old Matt's boat generally lay drawn up on the sand. There had been a thunderstorm that afternoon, and Tom had gone down the beach to bale out the boat in readiness for the morning's fishing. It was full moonlight now, as he was returning, and the night sky was full of floating clouds. Now and then there was a dull flash to the westward, and once a muttering growl of thunder, promising another storm to come. All that day the pirate sloop had been lying just off the shore back of the Capes, and now Tom Chist could see the sails glimmering pallidly in the moonlight, spread for drying after the storm. He was walking up the shore homeward when he became aware that at some distance ahead of him there was a ship's boat drawn up on the little narrow beach, and a group of men clustered about it. He hurried forward with a good deal of curiosity to see who had landed, but it was not until he had come close to them that he could distinguish who and what they were. Then he knew that it must be a party who had come off the pirate sloop. They had evidently just landed, and two men were lifting out a chest from the boat. One of them was a negro, naked to the waist, and the other was a white man in his shirt sleeves, wearing petticoat breeches, a Monterey cap upon his head, a red bandanna handkerchief around his neck, and gold earrings in his ears. He had a long, plaited queue hanging down his back, and a great sheath knife dangling from his side. Another man, evidently the captain of the party, stood at a little distance as they lifted the chest out of the boat. He had a cane in one hand and a lighted lantern in the other, although the moon was shining as bright as day. He wore jack boots and a handsome laced coat, and he had a long, drooping mustache that curled down below his chin. He wore a fine, feathered hat, and his long black hair hung down upon his shoulders. All this Tom Chist could see in the moonlight that glinted and twinkled upon the gilt buttons of his coat. They were so busy lifting the chest from the boat that at first they did not observe that Tom Chist had come up and was standing there. It was the white man with the long, plaited queue and the gold earrings that spoke to him. "Boy, what do you want here, boy?" he said, in a rough, hoarse voice. "Where d'ye come from?" And then dropping his end of the chest, and without giving Tom time to answer, he pointed off down the beach, and said, "You'd better be going about your own business, if you know what's good for you; and don't you come back, or you'll find what you don't want waiting for you." Tom saw in a glance that the pirates were all looking at him, and then, without saying a word, he turned and walked away. The man who had spoken to him followed him threateningly for some little distance, as though to see that he had gone away as he was bidden to do. But presently he stopped, and Tom hurried on alone, until the boat and the crew and all were dropped away behind and lost in the moonlight night. Then he himself stopped also, turned, and looked back whence he had come. There had been something very strange in the appearance of the men he had just seen, something very mysterious in their actions, and he wondered what it all meant, and what they were going to do. He stood for a little while thus looking and listening. He could see nothing, and could hear only the sound of distant talking. What were they doing on the lonely shore thus at night? Then, following a sudden impulse, he turned and cut off across the sand hummocks, skirting around inland, but keeping pretty close to the shore, his object being to spy upon them, and to watch what they were about from the back of the low sand hills that fronted the beach. He had gone along some distance in his circuitous return when he became aware of the sound of voices that seemed to be drawing closer to him as he came toward the speakers. He stopped and stood listening, and instantly, as he stopped, the voices stopped also. He crouched there silently in the bright, glimmering moonlight, surrounded by the silent stretches of sand, and the stillness seemed to press upon him like a heavy hand. Then suddenly the sound of a man's voice began again, and as Tom listened he could hear some one slowly counting. "Ninety-one," the voice began, "ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred, one hundred and one"--the slow, monotonous count coming nearer and nearer; "one hundred and two, one hundred and three, one hundred and four," and so on in its monotonous reckoning. Suddenly he saw three heads appear above the sand hill, so close to him that he crouched down quickly with a keen thrill, close beside the hummock near which he stood. His first fear was that they might have seen him in the moonlight; but they had not, and his heart rose again as the counting voice went steadily on. "One hundred and twenty," it was saying--"and twenty-one, and twenty-two, and twenty-three, and twenty-four," and then he who was counting came out from behind the little sandy rise into the white and open level of shimmering brightness. It was the man with the cane whom Tom had seen some time before the captain of the party who had landed. He carried his cane under his arm now, and was holding his lantern close to something that he held in his hand, and upon which he looked narrowly as he walked with a slow and measured tread in a perfectly straight line across the sand, counting each step as he took it. "And twenty-five, and twenty-six, and twenty-seven, and twenty-eight, and twenty-nine, and thirty." Behind him walked two other figures; one was the half-naked negro, the other the man with the plaited queue and the earrings, whom Tom had seen lifting the chest out of the boat. Now they were carrying the heavy box between them, laboring through the sand with shuffling tread as they bore it onward. As he who was counting pronounced the word "thirty," the two men set the chest down on the sand with a grunt, the white man panting and blowing and wiping his sleeve across his forehead. And immediately he who counted took out a slip of paper and marked something down upon it. They stood there for a long time, during which Tom lay behind the sand hummock watching them, and for a while the silence was uninterrupted. In the perfect stillness Tom could hear the washing of the little waves beating upon the distant beach, and once the far-away sound of a laugh from one of those who stood by the ship's boat. One, two, three minutes passed, and then the men picked up the chest and started on again; and then again the other man began his counting. "Thirty and one, and thirty and two, and thirty and three, and thirty and four"--he walked straight across the level open, still looking intently at that which he held in his hand--"and thirty and five, and thirty and six, and thirty and seven," and so on, until the three figures disappeared in the little hollow between the two sand hills on the opposite side of the open, and still Tom could hear the sound of the counting voice in the distance. Just as they disappeared behind the hill there was a sudden faint flash of light; and by and by, as Tom lay still listening to the counting, he heard, after a long interval, a far-away muffled rumble of distant thunder. He waited for a while, and then arose and stepped to the top of the sand hummock behind which he had been lying. He looked all about him, but there was no one else to be seen. Then he stepped down from the hummock and followed in the direction which the pirate captain and the two men carrying the chest had gone. He crept along cautiously, stopping now and then to make sure that he still heard the counting voice, and when it ceased he lay down upon the sand and waited until it began again. Presently, so following the pirates, he saw the three figures again in the distance, and, skirting around back of a hill of sand covered with coarse sedge grass, he came to where he overlooked a little open level space gleaming white in the moonlight. The three had been crossing the level of sand, and were now not more than twenty-five paces from him. They had again set down the chest, upon which the white man with the long queue and the gold earrings had seated to rest himself, the negro standing close beside him. The moon shone as bright as day and full upon his face. It was looking directly at Tom Chist, every line as keen cut with white lights and black shadows as though it had been carved in ivory and jet. He sat perfectly motionless, and Tom drew back with a start, almost thinking he had been discovered. He lay silent, his heart beating heavily in his throat; but there was no alarm, and presently he heard the counting begin again, and when he looked once more he saw they were going away straight across the little open. A soft, sliding hillock of sand lay directly in front of them. They did not turn aside, but went straight over it, the leader helping himself up the sandy slope with his cane, still counting and still keeping his eyes fixed upon that which he held in his hand. Then they disappeared again behind the white crest on the other side. So Tom followed them cautiously until they had gone almost half a mile inland. When next he saw them clearly it was from a little sandy rise which looked down like the crest of a bowl upon the floor of sand below. Upon this smooth, white floor the moon beat with almost dazzling brightness. The white man who had helped to carry the chest was now kneeling, busied at some work, though what it was Tom at first could not see. He was whittling the point of a stick into a long wooden peg, and when, by and by, he had finished what he was about, he arose and stepped to where he who seemed to be the captain had stuck his cane upright into the ground as though to mark some particular spot. He drew the cane out of the sand, thrusting the stick down in its stead. Then he drove the long peg down with a wooden mallet which the negro handed to him. The sharp rapping of the mallet upon the top of the peg sounded loud the perfect stillness, and Tom lay watching and wondering what it all meant. The man, with quick-repeated blows, drove the peg farther and farther down into the sand until it showed only two or three inches above the surface. As he finished his work there was another faint flash of light, and by and by another smothered rumble of thunder, and Tom, as he looked out toward the westward, saw the silver rim of the round and sharply outlined thundercloud rising slowly up into the sky and pushing the other and broken drifting clouds before it. The two white men were now stooping over the peg, the negro man watching them. Then presently the man with the cane started straight away from the peg, carrying the end of a measuring line with him, the other end of which the man with the plaited queue held against the top of the peg. When the pirate captain had reached the end of the measuring line he marked a cross upon the sand, and then again they measured out another stretch of space. So they measured a distance five times over, and then, from where Tom lay, he could see the man with the queue drive another peg just at the foot of a sloping rise of sand that swept up beyond into a tall white dune marked sharp and clear against the night sky behind. As soon as the man with the plaited queue had driven the second peg into the ground they began measuring again, and so, still measuring, disappeared in another direction which took them in behind the sand dune where Tom no longer could see what they were doing. The negro still sat by the chest where the two had left him, and so bright was the moonlight that from where he lay Tom could see the glint of it twinkling in the whites of his eyeballs. Presently from behind the hill there came, for the third time, the sharp rapping sound of the mallet driving still another peg, and then after a while the two pirates emerged from behind the sloping whiteness into the space of moonlight again. They came direct to where the chest lay, and the white man and the black man lifting it once more, they walked away across the level of open sand, and so on behind the edge of the hill and out of Tom's sight. III Tom Chist could no longer see what the pirates were doing, neither did he dare to cross over the open space of sand that now lay between them and him. He lay there speculating as to what they were about, and meantime the storm cloud was rising higher and higher above the horizon, with louder and louder mutterings of thunder following each dull flash from out the cloudy, cavernous depths. In the silence he could hear an occasional click as of some iron implement, and he opined that the pirates were burying the chest, though just where they were at work he could neither see nor tell. Still he lay there watching and listening, and by and by a puff of warm air blew across the sand, and a thumping tumble of louder thunder leaped from out the belly of the storm cloud, which every minute was coming nearer and nearer. Still Tom Chist lay watching. Suddenly, almost unexpectedly, the three figures reappeared from behind the sand hill, the pirate captain leading the way, and the negro and white man following close behind him. They had gone about halfway across the white, sandy level between the hill and the hummock behind which Tom Chist lay, when the white man stopped and bent over as though to tie his shoe. This brought the negro a few steps in front of his companion. That which then followed happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, so swiftly, that Tom Chist had hardly time to realize what it all meant before it was over. As the negro passed him the white man arose suddenly and silently erect, and Tom Chist saw the white moonlight glint upon the blade of a great dirk knife which he now held in his hand. He took one, two silent, catlike steps behind the unsuspecting negro. Then there was a sweeping flash of the blade in the pallid light, and a blow, the thump of which Tom could distinctly hear even from where he lay stretched out upon the sand. There was an instant echoing yell from the black man, who ran stumbling forward, who stopped, who regained his footing, and then stood for an instant as though rooted to the spot. Tom had distinctly seen the knife enter his back, and even thought that he had seen the glint of the point as it came out from the breast. Meantime the pirate captain had stopped, and now stood with his hand resting upon his cane looking impassively on. Then the black man started to run. The white man stood for a while glaring after him; then he, too, started after his victim upon the run. The black man was not very far from Tom when he staggered and fell. He tried to rise, then fell forward again, and lay at length. At that instant the first edge of the cloud cut across the moon, and there was a sudden darkness; but in the silence Tom heard the sound of another blow and a groan, and then presently a voice calling to the pirate captain that it was all over. He saw the dim form of the captain crossing the level sand, and then, as the moon sailed out from behind the cloud, he saw the white man standing over a black figure that lay motionless upon the sand. Then Tom Chist scrambled up and ran away, plunging down into the hollow of sand that lay in the shadows below. Over the next rise he ran, and down again into the next black hollow, and so on over the sliding, shifting ground, panting and gasping. It seemed to him that he could hear footsteps following, and in the terror that possessed him he almost expected every instant to feel the cold knife blade slide between his own ribs in such a thrust from behind as he had seen given to the poor black man. So he ran on like one in a nightmare. His feet grew heavy like lead, he panted and gasped, his breath came hot and dry in his throat. But still he ran and ran until at last he found himself in front of old Matt Abrahamson's cabin, gasping, panting, and sobbing for breath, his knees relaxed and his thighs trembling with weakness. As he opened the door and dashed into the darkened cabin (for both Matt and Molly were long ago asleep in bed) there was a flash of light, and even as he slammed to the door behind him there was an instant peal of thunder, heavy as though a great weight had been dropped upon the roof of the sky, so that the doors and windows of the cabin rattled. IV Then Tom Chist crept to bed, trembling, shuddering, bathed in sweat, his heart beating like a trip hammer, and his brain dizzy from that long, terror-inspired race through the soft sand in which he had striven to outstrip he knew not what pursuing horror. For a long, long time he lay awake, trembling and chattering with nervous chills, and when he did fall asleep it was only to drop into monstrous dreams in which he once again saw ever enacted, with various grotesque variations, the tragic drama which his waking eyes had beheld the night before. Then came the dawning of the broad, wet daylight, and before the rising of the sun Tom was up and out of doors to find the young day dripping with the rain of overnight. His first act was to climb the nearest sand hill and to gaze out toward the offing where the pirate ship had been the day before. It was no longer there. Soon afterward Matt Abrahamson came out of the cabin and he called to Tom to go get a bite to eat, for it was time for them to be away fishing. All that morning the recollection of the night before hung over Tom Chist like a great cloud of boding trouble. It filled the confined area of the little boat and spread over the entire wide spaces of sky and sea that surrounded them. Not for a moment was it lifted. Even when he was hauling in his wet and dripping line with a struggling fish at the end of it a recurrent memory of what he had seen would suddenly come upon him, and he would groan in spirit at the recollection. He looked at Matt Abrahamson's leathery face, at his lantern jaws cavernously and stolidly chewing at a tobacco leaf, and it seemed monstrous to him that the old man should be so unconscious of the black cloud that wrapped them all about. When the boat reached the shore again he leaped scrambling to the beach, and as soon as his dinner was eaten he hurried away to find the Dominie Jones. He ran all the way from Abrahamson's hut to the parson's house, hardly stopping once, and when he knocked at the door he was panting and sobbing for breath. The good man was sitting on the back-kitchen doorstep smoking his long pipe of tobacco out into the sunlight, while his wife within was rattling about among the pans and dishes in preparation of their supper, of which a strong, porky smell already filled the air. Then Tom Chist told his story, panting, hurrying, tumbling one word over another in his haste, and Parson Jones listened, breaking every now and then into an ejaculation of wonder. The light in his pipe went out and the bowl turned cold. "And I don't see why they should have killed the poor black man," said Tom, as he finished his narrative. "Why, that is very easy enough to understand," said the good reverend man. "'Twas a treasure box they buried!" In his agitation Mr. Jones had risen from his seat and was now stumping up and down, puffing at his empty tobacco pipe as though it were still alight. "A treasure box!" cried out Tom. "Aye, a treasure box! And that was why they killed the poor black man. He was the only one, d'ye see, besides they two who knew the place where 'twas hid, and now that they've killed him out of the way, there's nobody but themselves knows. The villains--Tut, tut, look at that now!" In his excitement the dominie had snapped the stem of his tobacco pipe in two. "Why, then," said Tom, "if that is so, 'tis indeed a wicked, bloody treasure, and fit to bring a curse upon anybody who finds it!" "'Tis more like to bring a curse upon the soul who buried it," said Parson Jones, "and it may be a blessing to him who finds it. But tell me, Tom, do you think you could find the place again where 'twas hid?" "I can't tell that," said Tom, "'twas all in among the sand humps, d'ye see, and it was at night into the bargain. Maybe we could find the marks of their feet in the sand," he added. "'Tis not likely," said the reverend gentleman, "for the storm last night would have washed all that away." "I could find the place," said Tom, "where the boat was drawn up on the beach." "Why, then, that's something to start from, Tom," said his friend. "If we can find that, then maybe we can find whither they went from there." "If I was certain it was a treasure box," cried out Tom Chist, "I would rake over every foot of sand betwixt here and Henlopen to find it." "'Twould be like hunting for a pin in a haystack," said the Rev. Hilary Jones. As Tom walked away home, it seemed as though a ton's weight of gloom had been rolled away from his soul. The next day he and Parson Jones were to go treasure-hunting together; it seemed to Tom as though he could hardly wait for the time to come. V The next afternoon Parson Jones and Tom Chist started off together upon the expedition that made Tom's fortune forever. Tom carried a spade over his shoulder and the reverend gentleman walked along beside him with his cane. As they jogged along up the beach they talked together about the only thing they could talk about--the treasure box. "And how big did you say 'twas?" quoth the good gentleman. "About so long," said Tom Chist, measuring off upon the spade, "and about so wide, and this deep." "And what if it should be full of money, Tom?" said the reverend gentleman, swinging his cane around and around in wide circles in the excitement of the thought, as he strode along briskly. "Suppose it should be full of money, what then?" "By Moses!" said Tom Chist, hurrying to keep up with his friend, "I'd buy a ship for myself, I would, and I'd trade to Injyy and to Chiny to my own boot, I would. Suppose the chist was all full of money, sir, and suppose we should find it; would there be enough in it, d'ye suppose, to buy a ship?" "To be sure there would be enough, Tom, enough and to spare, and a good big lump over." "And if I find it 'tis mine to keep, is it, and no mistake?" "Why, to be sure it would be yours!" cried out the parson, in a loud voice. "To be sure it would be yours!" He knew nothing of the law, but the doubt of the question began at once to ferment in his brain, and he strode along in silence for a while. "Whose else would it be but yours if you find it?" he burst out. "Can you tell me that?" "If ever I have a ship of my own," said Tom Chist, "and if ever I sail to Injy in her, I'll fetch ye back the best chist of tea, sir, that ever was fetched from Cochin Chiny." Parson Jones burst out laughing. "Thankee, Tom," he said; "and I'll thankee again when I get my chist of tea. But tell me, Tom, didst thou ever hear of the farmer girl who counted her chickens before they were hatched?" It was thus they talked as they hurried along up the beach together, and so came to a place at last where Tom stopped short and stood looking about him. "'Twas just here," he said, "I saw the boat last night. I know 'twas here, for I mind me of that bit of wreck yonder, and that there was a tall stake drove in the sand just where yon stake stands." Parson Jones put on his barnacles and went over to the stake toward which Tom pointed. As soon as he had looked at it carefully he called out: "Why, Tom, this hath been just drove down into the sand. 'Tis a brand-new stake of wood, and the pirates must have set it here themselves as a mark, just as they drove the pegs you spoke about down into the sand." Tom came over and looked at the stake. It was a stout piece of oak nearly two inches thick; it had been shaped with some care, and the top of it had been painted red. He shook the stake and tried to move it, but it had been driven or planted so deeply into the sand that he could not stir it. "Aye, sir," he said, "it must have been set here for a mark, for I'm sure 'twas not here yesterday or the day before." He stood looking about him to see if there were other signs of the pirates' presence. At some little distance there was the corner of something white sticking up out of the sand. He could see that it was a scrap of paper, and he pointed to it, calling out: "Yonder is a piece of paper, sir. I wonder if they left that behind them?" It was a miraculous chance that placed that paper there. There was only an inch of it showing, and if it had not been for Tom's sharp eyes, it would certainly have been overlooked and passed by. The next windstorm would have covered it up, and all that afterward happened never would have occurred. "Look, sir," he said, as he struck the sand from it, "it hath writing on it." "Let me see it," said Parson Jones. He adjusted the spectacles a little more firmly astride of his nose as he took the paper in his hand and began conning it. "What's all this?" he said; "a whole lot of figures and nothing else." And then he read aloud, "'Mark--S. S. W. S. by S.' What d'ye suppose that means, Tom?" "I don't know, sir," said Tom. "But maybe we can understand it better if you read on." "'Tis all a great lot of figures," said Parson Jones, "without a grain of meaning in them so far as I can see, unless they be sailing directions." And then he began reading again: "'Mark--S. S. W. by S. 40, 72, 91, 130, 151, 177, 202, 232, 256, 271'--d'ye see, it must be sailing directions--'299, 335, 362, 386, 415, 446, 469, 491, 522, 544, 571, 598'--what a lot of them there be '626, 652, 676, 695, 724, 851, 876, 905, 940, 967. Peg. S. E. by E. 269 foot. Peg. S. S. W. by S. 427 foot. Peg. Dig to the west of this six foot.'" "What's that about a peg?" exclaimed Tom. "What's that about a peg? And then there's something about digging, too!" It was as though a sudden light began shining into his brain. He felt himself growing quickly very excited. "Read that over again, sir," he cried. "Why, sir, you remember I told you they drove a peg into the sand. And don't they say to dig close to it? Read it over again, sir--read it over again!" "Peg?" said the good gentleman. "To be sure it was about a peg. Let's look again. Yes, here it is. 'Peg S. E. by E. 269 foot.'" "Aye!" cried out Tom Chist again, in great excitement. "Don't you remember what I told you, sir, 269 foot? Sure that must be what I saw 'em measuring with the line." Parson Jones had now caught the flame of excitement that was blazing up so strongly in Tom's breast. He felt as though some wonderful thing was about to happen to them. "To be sure, to be sure!" he called out, in a great big voice. "And then they measured out 427 foot south-southwest by south, and they then drove another peg, and then they buried the box six foot to the west of it. Why, Tom--why, Tom Chist! if we've read this aright, thy fortune is made." Tom Chist stood staring straight at the old gentleman's excited face, and seeing nothing but it in all the bright infinity of sunshine. Were they, indeed, about to find the treasure chest? He felt the sun very hot upon his shoulders, and he heard the harsh, insistent jarring of a tern that hovered and circled with forked tail and sharp white wings in the sunlight just above their heads; but all the time he stood staring into the good old gentleman's face. It was Parson Jones who first spoke. "But what do all these figures mean?" And Tom observed how the paper shook and rustled in the tremor of excitement that shook his hand. He raised the paper to the focus of his spectacles and began to read again. "'Mark 40, 72, 91--'" "Mark?" cried out Tom, almost screaming. "Why, that must mean the stake yonder; that must be the mark." And he pointed to the oaken stick with its red tip blazing against the white shimmer of sand behind it. "And the 40 and 72 and 91," cried the old gentleman, in a voice equally shrill--"why, that must mean the number of steps the pirate was counting when you heard him." "To be sure that's what they mean!" cried Tom Chist. "That is it, and it can be nothing else. Oh, come, sir--come, sir; let us make haste and find it!" "Stay! stay!" said the good gentleman, holding up his hand; and again Tom Chist noticed how it trembled and shook. His voice was steady enough, though very hoarse, but his hand shook and trembled as though with a palsy. "Stay! stay! First of all, we must follow these measurements. And 'tis a marvelous thing," he croaked, after a little pause, "how this paper ever came to be here." "Maybe it was blown here by the storm," suggested Tom Chist. "Like enough; like enough," said Parson Jones. "Like enough, after the wretches had buried the chest and killed the poor black man, they were so buffeted and bowsed about by the storm that it was shook out of the man's pocket, and thus blew away from him without his knowing aught of it." "But let us find the box!" cried out Tom Chist, flaming with his excitement. "Aye, aye," said the good man; "only stay a little, my boy, until we make sure what we're about. I've got my pocket compass here, but we must have something to measure off the feet when we have found the peg. You run across to Tom Brooke's house and fetch that measuring rod he used to lay out his new byre. While you're gone I'll pace off the distance marked on the paper with my pocket compass here." VI Tom Chist was gone for almost an hour, though he ran nearly all the way and back, upborne as on the wings of the wind. When he returned, panting, Parson Jones was nowhere to be seen, but Tom saw his footsteps leading away inland, and he followed the scuffling marks in the smooth surface across the sand humps and down into the hollows, and by and by found the good gentleman in a spot he at once knew as soon as he laid his eyes upon it. It was the open space where the pirates had driven their first peg, and where Tom Chist had afterward seen them kill the poor black man. Tom Chist gazed around as though expecting to see some sign of the tragedy, but the space was as smooth and as undisturbed as a floor, excepting where, midway across it, Parson Jones, who was now stooping over something on the ground, had trampled it all around about. When Tom Chist saw him he was still bending over, scraping away from something he had found. It was the first peg! Inside of half an hour they had found the second and third pegs, and Tom Chist stripped off his coat, and began digging like mad down into the sand, Parson Jones standing over him watching him. The sun was sloping well toward the west when the blade of Tom Chist's spade struck upon something hard. If it had been his own heart that he had hit in the sand his breast could hardly have thrilled more sharply. It was the treasure box! Parson Jones himself leaped down into the hole, and began scraping away the sand with his hands as though he had gone crazy. At last, with some difficulty, they tugged and hauled the chest up out of the sand to the surface, where it lay covered all over with the grit that clung to it. It was securely locked and fastened with a padlock, and it took a good many blows with the blade of the spade to burst the bolt. Parson Jones himself lifted the lid. Tom Chist leaned forward and gazed down into the open box. He would not have been surprised to have seen it filled full of yellow gold and bright jewels. It was filled half full of books and papers, and half full of canvas bags tied safely and securely around and around with cords of string. Parson Jones lifted out one of the bags, and it jingled as he did so. It was full of money. He cut the string, and with trembling, shaking hands handed the bag to Tom, who, in an ecstasy of wonder and dizzy with delight, poured out with swimming sight upon the coat spread on the ground a cataract of shining silver money that rang and twinkled and jingled as it fell in a shining heap upon the coarse cloth. Parson Jones held up both hands into the air, and Tom stared at what he saw, wondering whether it was all so, and whether he was really awake. It seemed to him as though he was in a dream. There were two-and-twenty bags in all in the chest: ten of them full of silver money, eight of them full of gold money, three of them full of gold dust, and one small bag with jewels wrapped up in wad cotton and paper. "'Tis enough," cried out Parson Jones, "to make us both rich men as long as we live." The burning summer sun, though sloping in the sky, beat down upon them as hot as fire; but neither of them noticed it. Neither did they notice hunger nor thirst nor fatigue, but sat there as though in a trance, with the bags of money scattered on the sand around them, a great pile of money heaped upon the coat, and the open chest beside them. It was an hour of sundown before Parson Jones had begun fairly to examine the books and papers in the chest. Of the three books, two were evidently log books of the pirates who had been lying off the mouth of the Delaware Bay all this time. The other book was written in Spanish, and was evidently the log book of some captured prize. It was then, sitting there upon the sand, the good old gentleman reading in his high, cracking voice, that they first learned from the bloody records in those two books who it was who had been lying inside the Cape all this time, and that it was the famous Captain Kidd. Every now and then the reverend gentleman would stop to exclaim, "Oh, the bloody wretch!" or, "Oh, the desperate, cruel villains!" and then would go on reading again a scrap here and a scrap there. And all the while Tom Chist sat and listened, every now and then reaching out furtively and touching the heap of money still lying upon the coat. One might be inclined to wonder why Captain Kidd had kept those bloody records. He had probably laid them away because they so incriminated many of the great people of the colony of New York that, with the books in evidence, it would have been impossible to bring the pirate to justice without dragging a dozen or more fine gentlemen into the dock along with him. If he could have kept them in his own possession they would doubtless have been a great weapon of defense to protect him from the gallows. Indeed, when Captain Kidd was finally brought to conviction and hung, he was not accused of his piracies, but of striking a mutinous seaman upon the head with a bucket and accidentally killing him. The authorities did not dare try him for piracy. He was really hung because he was a pirate, and we know that it was the log books that Tom Chist brought to New York that did the business for him; he was accused and convicted of manslaughter for killing of his own ship carpenter with a bucket. So Parson Jones, sitting there in the slanting light, read through these terrible records of piracy, and Tom, with the pile of gold and silver money beside him, sat and listened to him. What a spectacle, if anyone had come upon them! But they were alone, with the vast arch of sky empty above them and the wide white stretch of sand a desert around them. The sun sank lower and lower, until there was only time to glance through the other papers in the chest. They were nearly all goldsmiths' bills of exchange drawn in favor of certain of the most prominent merchants of New York. Parson Jones, as he read over the names, knew of nearly all the gentlemen by hearsay. Aye, here was this gentleman; he thought that name would be among 'em. What? Here is Mr. So-and-so. Well, if all they say is true, the villain has robbed one of his own best friends. "I wonder," he said, "why the wretch should have hidden these papers so carefully away with the other treasures, for they could do him no good?" Then, answering his own question: "Like enough because these will give him a hold over the gentlemen to whom they are drawn so that he can make a good bargain for his own neck before he gives the bills back to their owners. I tell you what it is, Tom," he continued, "it is you yourself shall go to New York and bargain for the return of these papers. 'Twill be as good as another fortune to you." The majority of the bills were drawn in favor of one Richard Chillingsworth, Esquire. "And he is," said Parson Jones, "one of the richest men in the province of New York. You shall go to him with the news of what we have found." "When shall I go?" said Tom Chist. "You shall go upon the very first boat we can catch," said the parson. He had turned, still holding the bills in his hand, and was now fingering over the pile of money that yet lay tumbled out upon the coat. "I wonder, Tom," said he, "if you could spare me a score or so of these doubloons?" "You shall have fifty score, if you choose," said Tom, bursting with gratitude and with generosity in his newly found treasure. "You are as fine a lad as ever I saw, Tom," said the parson, "and I'll thank you to the last day of my life." Tom scooped up a double handful of silver money. "Take it sir," he said, "and you may have as much more as you want of it." He poured it into the dish that the good man made of his hands, and the parson made a motion as though to empty it into his pocket. Then he stopped, as though a sudden doubt had occurred to him. "I don't know that 'tis fit for me to take this pirate money, after all," he said. "But you are welcome to it," said Tom. Still the parson hesitated. "Nay," he burst out, "I'll not take it; 'tis blood money." And as he spoke he chucked the whole double handful into the now empty chest, then arose and dusted the sand from his breeches. Then, with a great deal of bustling energy, he helped to tie the bags again and put them all back into the chest. They reburied the chest in the place whence they had taken it, and then the parson folded the precious paper of directions, placed it carefully in his wallet, and his wallet in his pocket. "Tom," he said, for the twentieth time, "your fortune has been made this day." And Tom Chist, as he rattled in his breeches pocket the half dozen doubloons he had kept out of his treasure, felt that what his friend had said was true. As the two went back homeward across the level space of sand Tom Chist suddenly stopped stock-still and stood looking about him. "'Twas just here," he said, digging his heel down into the sand, "that they killed the poor black man." "And here he lies buried for all time," said Parson Jones; and as he spoke he dug his cane down into the sand. Tom Chist shuddered. He would not have been surprised if the ferrule of the cane had struck something soft beneath that level surface. But it did not, nor was any sign of that tragedy ever seen again. For, whether the pirates had carried away what they had done and buried it elsewhere, or whether the storm in blowing the sand had completely leveled off and hidden all sign of that tragedy where it was enacted, certain it is that it never came to sight again--at least so far as Tom Chist and the Rev. Hilary Jones ever knew. VII This is the story of the treasure box. All that remains now is to conclude the story of Tom Chist, and to tell of what came of him in the end. He did not go back again to live with old Matt Abrahamson. Parson Jones had now taken charge of him and his fortunes, and Tom did not have to go back to the fisherman's hut. Old Abrahamson talked a great deal about it, and would come in his cups and harangue good Parson Jones, making a vast protestation of what he would do to Tom--if he ever caught him--for running away. But Tom on all these occasions kept carefully out of his way, and nothing came of the old man's threatenings. Tom used to go over to see his foster mother now and then, but always when the old man was from home. And Molly Abrahamson used to warn him to keep out of her father's way. "He's in as vile a humor as ever I see, Tom," she said; "he sits sulking all day long, and 'tis my belief he'd kill ye if he caught ye." Of course Tom said nothing, even to her, about the treasure, and he and the reverend gentleman kept the knowledge thereof to themselves. About three weeks later Parson Jones managed to get him shipped aboard of a vessel bound for New York town, and a few days later Tom Chist landed at that place. He had never been in such a town before, and he could not sufficiently wonder and marvel at the number of brick houses, at the multitude of people coming and going along the fine, hard, earthen sidewalk, at the shops and the stores where goods hung in the windows, and, most of all, the fortifications and the battery at the point, at the rows of threatening cannon, and at the scarlet-coated sentries pacing up and down the ramparts. All this was very wonderful, and so were the clustered boats riding at anchor in the harbor. It was like a new world, so different was it from the sand hills and the sedgy levels of Henlopen. Tom Chist took up his lodgings at a coffee house near to the town hall, and thence he sent by the postboy a letter written by Parson Jones to Master Chillingsworth. In a little while the boy returned with a message, asking Tom to come up to Mr. Chillingsworth's house that afternoon at two o'clock. Tom went thither with a great deal of trepidation, and his heart fell away altogether when he found it a fine, grand brick house, three stories high, and with wrought-iron letters across the front. The counting house was in the same building; but Tom, because of Mr. Jones's letter, was conducted directly into the parlor, where the great rich man was awaiting his coming. He was sitting in a leather-covered armchair, smoking a pipe of tobacco, and with a bottle of fine old Madeira close to his elbow. Tom had not had a chance to buy a new suit of clothes yet, and so he cut no very fine figure in the rough dress he had brought with him from Henlopen. Nor did Mr. Chillingsworth seem to think very highly of his appearance, for he sat looking sideways at Tom as he smoked. "Well, my lad," he said, "and what is this great thing you have to tell me that is so mightily wonderful? I got what's-his-name--Mr. Jones's--letter, and now I am ready to hear what you have to say." But if he thought but little of his visitor's appearance at first, he soon changed his sentiments toward him, for Tom had not spoken twenty words when Mr. Chillingsworth's whole aspect changed. He straightened himself up in his seat, laid aside his pipe, pushed away his glass of Madeira, and bade Tom take a chair. He listened without a word as Tom Chist told of the buried treasure, of how he had seen the poor negro murdered, and of how he and Parson Jones had recovered the chest again. Only once did Mr. Chillingsworth interrupt the narrative. "And to think," he cried, "that the villain this very day walks about New York town as though he were an honest man, ruffling it with the best of us! But if we can only get hold of these log books you speak of. Go on; tell me more of this." When Tom Chist's narrative was ended, Mr. Chillingsworth's bearing was as different as daylight is from dark. He asked a thousand questions, all in the most polite and gracious tone imaginable, and not only urged a glass of his fine old Madeira upon Tom, but asked him to stay to supper. There was nobody to be there, he said, but his wife and daughter. Tom, all in a panic at the very thought of the two ladies, sturdily refused to stay even for the dish of tea Mr. Chillingsworth offered him. He did not know that he was destined to stay there as long as he should live. "And now," said Mr. Chillingsworth, "tell me about yourself." "I have nothing to tell, Your Honor," said Tom, "except that I was washed up out of the sea." "Washed up out of the sea!" exclaimed Mr. Chillingsworth. "Why, how was that? Come, begin at the beginning, and tell me all." Thereupon Tom Chist did as he was bidden, beginning at the very beginning and telling everything just as Molly Abrahamson had often told it to him. As he continued, Mr. Chillingsworth's interest changed into an appearance of stronger and stronger excitement. Suddenly he jumped up out of his chair and began to walk up and down the room. "Stop! stop!" he cried out at last, in the midst of something Tom was saying. "Stop! stop! Tell me; do you know the name of the vessel that was wrecked, and from which you were washed ashore?" "I've heard it said," said Tom Chist, "'twas the Bristol Merchant." "I knew it! I knew it!" exclaimed the great man, in a loud voice, flinging his hands up into the air. "I felt it was so the moment you began the story. But tell me this, was there nothing found with you with a mark or a name upon it?" "There was a kerchief," said Tom, "marked with a T and a C." "Theodosia Chillingsworth!" cried out the merchant. "I knew it! I knew it! Heavens! to think of anything so wonderful happening as this! Boy! boy! dost thou know who thou art? Thou art my own brother's son. His name was Oliver Chillingsworth, and he was my partner in business, and thou art his son." Then he ran out into the entryway, shouting and calling for his wife and daughter to come. So Tom Chist--or Thomas Chillingsworth, as he now was to be called--did stay to supper, after all. This is the story, and I hope you may like it. For Tom Chist became rich and great, as was to be supposed, and he married his pretty cousin Theodosia (who had been named for his own mother, drowned in the Bristol Merchant). He did not forget his friends, but had Parson Jones brought to New York to live. As to Molly and Matt Abrahamson, they both enjoyed a pension of ten pounds a year for as long as they lived; for now that all was well with him, Tom bore no grudge against the old fisherman for all the drubbings he had suffered. The treasure box was brought on to New York, and if Tom Chist did not get all the money there was in it (as Parson Jones had opined he would) he got at least a good big lump of it. And it is my belief that those log books did more to get Captain Kidd arrested in Boston town and hanged in London than anything else that was brought up against him. Chapter V. JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES I WE, of these times, protected as we are by the laws and by the number of people about us, can hardly comprehend such a life as that of the American colonies in the early part of the eighteenth century, when it was possible for a pirate like Capt. Teach, known as Blackbeard, to exist, and for the governor and the secretary of the province in which he lived perhaps to share his plunder, and to shelter and to protect him against the law. At that time the American colonists were in general a rough, rugged people, knowing nothing of the finer things of life. They lived mostly in little settlements, separated by long distances from one another, so that they could neither make nor enforce laws to protect themselves. Each man or little group of men had to depend upon his or their own strength to keep what belonged to them, and to prevent fierce men or groups of men from seizing what did not belong to them. It is the natural disposition of everyone to get all that he can. Little children, for instance, always try to take away from others that which they want, and to keep it for their own. It is only by constant teaching that they learn that they must not do so; that they must not take by force what does not belong to them. So it is only by teaching and training that people learn to be honest and not to take what is not theirs. When this teaching is not sufficient to make a man learn to be honest, or when there is something in the man's nature that makes him not able to learn, then he only lacks the opportunity to seize upon the things he wants, just as he would do if he were a little child. In the colonies at that time, as was just said, men were too few and scattered to protect themselves against those who had made up their minds to take by force that which they wanted, and so it was that men lived an unrestrained and lawless life, such as we of these times of better government can hardly comprehend. The usual means of commerce between province and province was by water in coasting vessels. These coasting vessels were so defenseless, and the different colonial governments were so ill able to protect them, that those who chose to rob them could do it almost without danger to themselves. So it was that all the western world was, in those days, infested with armed bands of cruising freebooters or pirates, who used to stop merchant vessels and take from them what they chose. Each province in those days was ruled over by a royal governor appointed by the king. Each governor, at one time, was free to do almost as he pleased in his own province. He was accountable only to the king and his government, and England was so distant that he was really responsible almost to nobody but himself. The governors were naturally just as desirous to get rich quickly, just as desirous of getting all that they could for themselves, as was anybody else only they had been taught and had been able to learn that it was not right to be an actual pirate or robber. They wanted to be rich easily and quickly, but the desire was not strong enough to lead them to dishonor themselves in their own opinion and in the opinion of others by gratifying their selfishness. They would even have stopped the pirates from doing what they did if they could, but their provincial governments were too weak to prevent the freebooters from robbing merchant vessels, or to punish them when they came ashore. The provinces had no navies, and they really had no armies; neither were there enough people living within the community to enforce the laws against those stronger and fiercer men who were not honest. After the things the pirates seized from merchant vessels were once stolen they were altogether lost. Almost never did any owner apply for them, for it would be useless to do so. The stolen goods and merchandise lay in the storehouses of the pirates, seemingly without any owner excepting the pirates themselves. The governors and the secretaries of the colonies would not dishonor themselves by pirating upon merchant vessels, but it did not seem so wicked after the goods were stolen--and so altogether lost--to take a part of that which seemed to have no owner. A child is taught that it is a very wicked thing to take, for instance, by force, a lump of sugar from another child; but when a wicked child has seized the sugar from another and taken it around the corner, and that other child from whom he has seized it has gone home crying, it does not seem so wicked for the third child to take a bite of the sugar when it is offered to him, even if he thinks it has been taken from some one else. It was just so, no doubt, that it did not seem so wicked to Governor Eden and Secretary Knight of North Carolina, or to Governor Fletcher of New York, or to other colonial governors, to take a part of the booty that the pirates, such as Blackbeard, had stolen. It did not even seem very wicked to compel such pirates to give up a part of what was not theirs, and which seemed to have no owner. In Governor Eden's time, however, the colonies had begun to be more thickly peopled, and the laws had gradually become stronger and stronger to protect men in the possession of what was theirs. Governor Eden was the last of the colonial governors who had dealings with the pirates, and Blackbeard was almost the last of the pirates who, with his banded men, was savage and powerful enough to come and go as he chose among the people whom he plundered. Virginia, at that time, was the greatest and the richest of all the American colonies, and upon the farther side of North Carolina was the province of South Carolina, also strong and rich. It was these two colonies that suffered the most from Blackbeard, and it began to be that the honest men that lived in them could endure no longer to be plundered. The merchants and traders and others who suffered cried out loudly for protection, so loudly that the governors of these provinces could not help hearing them. Governor Eden was petitioned to act against the pirates, but he would do nothing, for he felt very friendly toward Blackbeard--just as a child who has had a taste of the stolen sugar feels friendly toward the child who gives it to him. At last, when Blackbeard sailed up into the very heart of Virginia, and seized upon and carried away the daughter of that colony's foremost people, the governor of Virginia, finding that the governor of North Carolina would do nothing to punish the outrage, took the matter into his own hands and issued a proclamation offering a reward of one hundred pounds for Blackbeard, alive or dead, and different sums for the other pirates who were his followers. Governor Spottiswood had the right to issue the proclamation, but he had no right to commission Lieutenant Maynard, as he did, to take down an armed force into the neighboring province and to attack the pirates in the waters of the North Carolina sounds. It was all a part of the rude and lawless condition of the colonies at the time that such a thing could have been done. The governor's proclamation against the pirates was issued upon the eleventh day of November. It was read in the churches the Sunday following and was posted upon the doors of all the government custom offices in lower Virginia. Lieutenant Maynard, in the boats that Colonel Parker had already fitted out to go against the pirates, set sail upon the seventeenth of the month for Ocracoke. Five days later the battle was fought. Blackbeard's sloop was lying inside of Ocracoke Inlet among the shoals and sand bars when he first heard of Governor Spottiswood's proclamation. There had been a storm, and a good many vessels had run into the inlet for shelter. Blackbeard knew nearly all of the captains of these vessels, and it was from them that he first heard of the proclamation. He had gone aboard one of the vessels--a coaster from Boston. The wind was still blowing pretty hard from the southeast. There were maybe a dozen vessels lying within the inlet at that time, and the captain of one of them was paying the Boston skipper a visit when Blackbeard came aboard. The two captains had been talking together. They instantly ceased when the pirate came down into the cabin, but he had heard enough of their conversation to catch its drift. "Why d'ye stop?" he said. "I heard what you said. Well, what then? D'ye think I mind it at all? Spottiswood is going to send his bullies down here after me. That's what you were saying. Well, what then? You don't think I'm afraid of his bullies, do you?" "Why, no, Captain, I didn't say you was afraid," said the visiting captain. "And what right has he got to send down here against me in North Carolina, I should like to ask you?" "He's got none at all," said the Boston captain, soothingly. "Won't you take a taste of Hollands, Captain?" "He's no more right to come blustering down here into Governor Eden's province than I have to come aboard of your schooner here, Tom Burley, and to carry off two or three kegs of this prime Hollands for my own drinking." Captain Burley--the Boston man--laughed a loud, forced laugh. "Why, Captain," he said, "as for two or three kegs of Hollands, you won't find that aboard. But if you'd like to have a keg of it for your own drinking, I'll send it to you and be glad enough to do so for old acquaintance' sake." "But I tell you what 'tis, Captain," said the visiting skipper to Blackbeard, "they're determined and set against you this time. I tell you, Captain, Governor Spottiswood hath issued a hot proclamation against you, and 't hath been read out in all the churches. I myself saw it posted in Yorktown upon the customhouse door and read it there myself. The governor offers one hundred pounds for you, and fifty pounds for your officers, and twenty pounds each for your men." "Well, then," said Blackbeard, holding up his glass, "here, I wish 'em good luck, and when they get their hundred pounds for me they'll be in a poor way to spend it. As for the Hollands," said he, turning to Captain Burley, "I know what you've got aboard here and what you haven't. D'ye suppose ye can blind me? Very well, you send over two kegs, and I'll let you go without search." The two captains were very silent. "As for that Lieutenant Maynard you're all talking about," said Blackbeard, "why, I know him very well. He was the one who was so busy with the pirates down Madagascar way. I believe you'd all like to see him blow me out of the water, but he can't do it. There's nobody in His Majesty's service I'd rather meet than Lieutenant Maynard. I'd teach him pretty briskly that North Carolina isn't Madagascar." On the evening of the twenty-second the two vessels under command of Lieutenant Maynard came into the mouth of Ocracoke Inlet and there dropped anchor. Meantime the weather had cleared, and all the vessels but one had gone from the inlet. The one vessel that remained was a New Yorker. It had been there over a night and a day, and the captain and Blackbeard had become very good friends. The same night that Maynard came into the inlet a wedding was held on the shore. A number of men and women came up the beach in oxcarts and sledges; others had come in boats from more distant points and across the water. The captain of the New Yorker and Blackbeard went ashore together a little after dark. The New Yorker had been aboard of the pirate's sloop for all the latter part of the afternoon, and he and Blackbeard had been drinking together in the cabin. The New York man was now a little tipsy, and he laughed and talked foolishly as he and Blackbeard were rowed ashore. The pirate sat grim and silent. It was nearly dark when they stepped ashore on the beach. The New York captain stumbled and fell headlong, rolling over and over, and the crew of the boat burst out laughing. The people had already begun to dance in an open shed fronting upon the shore. There were fires of pine knots in front of the building, lighting up the interior with a red glare. A negro was playing a fiddle somewhere inside, and the shed was filled with a crowd of grotesque dancing figures--men and women. Now and then they called with loud voices as they danced, and the squeaking of the fiddle sounded incessantly through the noise of outcries and the stamp and shuffling of feet. Captain Teach and the New York captain stood looking on. The New York man had tilted himself against a post and stood there holding one arm around it, supporting himself. He waved the other hand foolishly in time to the music, now and then snapping his thumb and finger. The young woman who had just been married approached the two. She had been dancing, and she was warm and red, her hair blowzed about her head. "Hi, Captain, won't you dance with me?" she said to Blackbeard. Blackbeard stared at her. "Who be you?" he said. She burst out laughing. "You look as if you'd eat a body," she cried. Blackbeard's face gradually relaxed. "Why, to be sure, you're a brazen one, for all the world," he said. "Well, I'll dance with you, that I will. I'll dance the heart out of you." He pushed forward, thrusting aside with his elbow the newly made husband. The man, who saw that Blackbeard had been drinking, burst out laughing, and the other men and women who had been standing around drew away, so that in a little while the floor was pretty well cleared. One could see the negro now; he sat on a barrel at the end of the room. He grinned with his white teeth and, without stopping in his fiddling, scraped his bow harshly across the strings, and then instantly changed the tune to a lively jig. Blackbeard jumped up into the air and clapped his heels together, giving, as he did so, a sharp, short yell. Then he began instantly dancing grotesquely and violently. The woman danced opposite to him, this way and that, with her knuckles on her hips. Everybody burst out laughing at Blackbeard's grotesque antics. They laughed again and again, clapping their hands, and the negro scraped away on his fiddle like fury. The woman's hair came tumbling down her back. She tucked it back, laughing and panting, and the sweat ran down her face. She danced and danced. At last she burst out laughing and stopped, panting. Blackbeard again jumped up in the air and clapped his heels. Again he yelled, and as he did so, he struck his heels upon the floor and spun around. Once more everybody burst out laughing, clapping their hands, and the negro stopped fiddling. Near by was a shanty or cabin where they were selling spirits, and by and by Blackbeard went there with the New York captain, and presently they began drinking again. "Hi, Captain!" called one of the men, "Maynard's out yonder in the inlet. Jack Bishop's just come across from t'other side. He says Mr. Maynard hailed him and asked for a pilot to fetch him in." "Well, here's luck to him, and he can't come in quick enough for me!" cried out Blackbeard in his hoarse, husky voice. "Well, Captain," called a voice, "will ye fight him to-morrow?" "Aye," shouted the pirate, "if he can get in to me, I'll try to give 'em what they seek, and all they want of it into the bargain. As for a pilot, I tell ye what 'tis--if any man hereabouts goes out there to pilot that villain in 'twill be the worst day's work he ever did in all of his life. 'Twon't be fit for him to live in these parts of America if I am living here at the same time." There was a burst of laughter. "Give us a toast, Captain! Give us something to drink to! Aye, Captain, a toast! A toast!" a half dozen voices were calling out at the same time. "Well," cried out the pirate captain, "here's to a good, hot fight to-morrow, and the best dog on top! 'Twill be, Bang! bang!--this way!" He began pulling a pistol out of his pocket, but it stuck in the lining, and he struggled and tugged at it. The men ducked and scrambled away from before him, and then the next moment he had the pistol out of his pocket. He swung it around and around. There was perfect silence. Suddenly there was a flash and a stunning report, and instantly a crash and tinkle of broken glass. One of the men cried out, and began picking and jerking at the back of his neck. "He's broken that bottle all down my neck," he called out. "That's the way 'twill be," said Blackbeard. "Lookee," said the owner of the place, "I won't serve out another drop if 'tis going to be like that. If there's any more trouble I'll blow out the lantern." The sound of the squeaking and scraping of the fiddle and the shouts and the scuffling feet still came from the shed where the dancing was going on. "Suppose you get your dose to-morrow, Captain," some one called out, "what then?" "Why, if I do," said Blackbeard, "I get it, and that's all there is of it." "Your wife'll be a rich widdy then, won't she?" cried one of the men; and there was a burst of laughter. "Why," said the New York captain,--"why, has a--a bloody p-pirate like you a wife then--a--like any honest man?" "She'll be no richer than she is now," said Blackbeard. "She knows where you've hid your money, anyways. Don't she, Captain?" called out a voice. "The civil knows where I've hid my money," said Blackbeard, "and I know where I've hid it; and the longest liver of the twain will git it all. And that's all there is of it." The gray of early day was beginning to show in the east when Blackbeard and the New York captain came down to the landing together. The New York captain swayed and toppled this way and that as he walked, now falling against Blackbeard, and now staggering away from him. II Early in the morning--perhaps eight o'clock--Lieutenant Maynard sent a boat from the schooner over to the settlement, which lay some four or five miles distant. A number of men stood lounging on the landing, watching the approach of the boat. The men rowed close up to the wharf, and there lay upon their oars, while the boatswain of the schooner, who was in command of the boat, stood up and asked if there was any man there who could pilot them over the shoals. Nobody answered, but all stared stupidly at him. After a while one of the men at last took his pipe out of his mouth. "There ben't any pilot here, master," said he; "we ben't pilots." "Why, what a story you do tell!" roared the boatswain. "D'ye suppose I've never been down here before, not to know that every man about here knows the passes of the shoals?" The fellow still held his pipe in his hand. He looked at another one of the men. "Do you know the passes in over the shoals, Jem?" said he. The man to whom he spoke was a young fellow with long, shaggy, sunburnt hair hanging over his eyes in an unkempt mass. He shook his head, grunting, "Na--I don't know naught about t' shoals." "'Tis Lieutenant Maynard of His Majesty's navy in command of them vessels out there," said the boatswain. "He'll give any man five pound to pilot him in." The men on the wharf looked at one another, but still no one spoke, and the boatswain stood looking at them. He saw that they did not choose to answer him. "Why," he said, "I believe you've not got right wits--that's what I believe is the matter with you. Pull me up to the landing, men, and I'll go ashore and see if I can find anybody that's willing to make five pound for such a little bit of piloting as that." After the boatswain had gone ashore the loungers still stood on the wharf, looking down into the boat, and began talking to one another for the men below to hear them. "They're coming in," said one, "to blow poor Blackbeard out of the water." "Aye," said another, "he's so peaceable, too, he is; he'll just lay still and let 'em blow and blow, he will." "There's a young fellow there," said another of the men; "he don't look fit to die yet, he don't. Why, I wouldn't be in his place for a thousand pound." "I do suppose Blackbeard's so afraid he don't know how to see," said the first speaker. At last one of the men in the boat spoke up. "Maybe he don't know how to see," said he, "but maybe we'll blow some daylight into him afore we get through with him." Some more of the settlers had come out from the shore to the end of the wharf, and there was now quite a crowd gathering there, all looking at the men in the boat. "What do them Virginny 'baccy-eaters do down here in Caroliny, anyway?" said one of the newcomers. "They've got no call to be down here in North Caroliny waters." "Maybe you can keep us away from coming, and maybe you can't," said a voice from the boat. "Why," answered the man on the wharf, "we could keep you away easy enough, but you ben't worth the trouble, and that's the truth." There was a heavy iron bolt lying near the edge of the landing. One of the men upon the wharf slyly thrust it out with the end of his foot. It hung for a moment and then fell into the boat below with a crash. "What d'ye mean by that?" roared the man in charge of the boat. "What d'ye mean, ye villains? D'ye mean to stave a hole in us?" "Why," said the man who had pushed it, "you saw 'twasn't done a purpose, didn't you?" "Well, you try it again, and somebody'll get hurt," said the man in the boat, showing the butt end of his pistol. The men on the wharf began laughing. Just then the boatswain came down from the settlement again, and out along the landing. The threatened turbulence quieted as he approached, and the crowd moved sullenly aside to let him pass. He did not bring any pilot with him, and he jumped down into the stern of the boat, saying, briefly, "Push off." The crowd of loungers stood looking after them as they rowed away, and when the boat was some distance from the landing they burst out into a volley of derisive yells. "The villains!" said the boatswain, "they are all in league together. They wouldn't even let me go up into the settlement to look for a pilot." The lieutenant and his sailing master stood watching the boat as it approached. "Couldn't you, then, get a pilot, Baldwin?" said Mr. Maynard, as the boatswain scrambled aboard. "No, I couldn't, sir," said the man. "Either they're all banded together, or else they're all afraid of the villains. They wouldn't even let me go up into the settlement to find one." "Well, then," said Mr. Maynard, "we'll make shift to work in as best we may by ourselves. 'Twill be high tide against one o'clock. We'll run in then with sail as far as we can, and then we'll send you ahead with the boat to sound for a pass, and we'll follow with the sweeps. You know the waters pretty well, you say." "They were saying ashore that the villain hath forty men aboard," said the boatswain.(2) (2) The pirate captain had really only twenty-five men aboard of his ship at the time of the battle. Lieutenant Maynard's force consisted of thirty-five men in the schooner and twenty-five men in the sloop. He carried neither cannons nor carronades, and neither of his vessels was very well fitted for the purpose for which they were designed. The schooner, which he himself commanded, offered almost no protection to the crew. The rail was not more than a foot high in the waist, and the men on the deck were almost entirely exposed. The rail of the sloop was perhaps a little higher, but it, too, was hardly better adapted for fighting. Indeed, the lieutenant depended more upon the moral force of official authority to overawe the pirates than upon any real force of arms or men. He never believed, until the very last moment, that the pirates would show any real fight. It is very possible that they might not have done so had they not thought that the lieutenant had actually no legal right supporting him in his attack upon them in North Carolina waters. It was about noon when anchor was hoisted, and, with the schooner leading, both vessels ran slowly in before a light wind that had begun to blow toward midday. In each vessel a man stood in the bows, sounding continually with lead and line. As they slowly opened up the harbor within the inlet, they could see the pirate sloop lying about three miles away. There was a boat just putting off from it to the shore. The lieutenant and his sailing master stood together on the roof of the cabin deckhouse. The sailing master held a glass to his eye. "She carries a long gun, sir," he said, "and four carronades. She'll be hard to beat, sir, I do suppose, armed as we are with only light arms for close fighting." The lieutenant laughed. "Why, Brookes," he said, "you seem to think forever of these men showing fight. You don't know them as I know them. They have a deal of bluster and make a deal of noise, but when you seize them and hold them with a strong hand, there's naught of fight left in them. 'Tis like enough there'll not be so much as a musket fired to-day. I've had to do with 'em often enough before to know my gentlemen well by this time." Nor, as was said, was it until the very last that the lieutenant could be brought to believe that the pirates had any stomach for a fight. The two vessels had reached perhaps within a mile of the pirate sloop before they found the water too shoal to venture any farther with the sail. It was then that the boat was lowered as the lieutenant had planned, and the boatswain went ahead to sound, the two vessels, with their sails still hoisted but empty of wind, pulling in after with sweeps. The pirate had also hoisted sail, but lay as though waiting for the approach of the schooner and the sloop. The boat in which the boatswain was sounding had run in a considerable distance ahead of the two vessels, which were gradually creeping up with the sweeps until they had reached to within less than half a mile of the pirates--the boat with the boatswain maybe a quarter of a mile closer. Suddenly there was a puff of smoke from the pirate sloop, and then another and another, and the next moment there came the three reports of muskets up the wind. "By zounds!" said the lieutenant. "I do believe they're firing on the boat!" And then he saw the boat turn and begin pulling toward them. The boat with the boatswain aboard came rowing rapidly. Again there were three or four puffs of smoke and three or four subsequent reports from the distant vessel. Then, in a little while, the boat was alongside, and the boatswain came scrambling aboard. "Never mind hoisting the boat," said the lieutenant; "we'll just take her in tow. Come aboard as quick as you can." Then, turning to the sailing master, "Well, Brookes, you'll have to do the best you can to get in over the shoals under half sail." "But, sir," said the master, "we'll be sure to run aground." "Very well, sir," said the lieutenant, "you heard my orders. If we run aground we run aground, and that's all there is of it." "I sounded as far as maybe a little over a fathom," said the mate, "but the villains would let me go no nearer. I think I was in the channel, though. 'Tis more open inside, as I mind me of it. There's a kind of a hole there, and if we get in over the shoals just beyond where I was we'll be all right." "Very well, then, you take the wheel, Baldwin," said the lieutenant, "and do the best you can for us." Lieutenant Maynard stood looking out forward at the pirate vessel, which they were now steadily nearing under half sail. He could see that there were signs of bustle aboard and of men running around upon the deck. Then he walked aft and around the cabin. The sloop was some distance astern. It appeared to have run aground, and they were trying to push it off with the sweeps. The lieutenant looked down into the water over the stern, and saw that the schooner was already raising the mud in her wane. Then he went forward along the deck. His men were crouching down along by the low rail, and there was a tense quietness of expectation about them. The lieutenant looked them over as he passed them. "Johnson," he said, "do you take the lead and line and go forward and sound a bit." Then to the others: "Now, my men, the moment we run her aboard, you get aboard of her as quick as you can, do you understand? Don't wait for the sloop or think about her, but just see that the grappling irons are fast, and then get aboard. If any man offers to resist you, shoot him down. Are you ready, Mr. Cringle?" "Aye, aye, sir," said the gunner. "Very well, then, be ready, men; we'll be aboard 'em in a minute or two." "There's less than a fathom of water here, sir," sang out Johnson from the bows. As he spoke there was a sudden soft jar and jerk, then the schooner was still. They were aground. "Push her off to the lee there! Let go your sheets!" roared the boatswain from the wheel. "Push her off to the lee." He spun the wheel around as he spoke. A half a dozen men sprang up, seized the sweeps, and plunged them into the water. Others ran to help them, but the sweeps only sank into the mud without moving the schooner. The sails had fallen off and they were flapping and thumping and clapping in the wind. Others of the crew had scrambled to their feet and ran to help those at the sweeps. The lieutenant had walked quickly aft again. They were very close now to the pirate sloop, and suddenly some one hailed him from aboard of her. When he turned he saw that there was a man standing up on the rail of the pirate sloop, holding by the back stays. "Who are you?" he called, from the distance, "and whence come you? What do you seek here? What d'ye mean, coming down on us this way?" The lieutenant heard somebody say, "That's Blackbeard hisself." And he looked with great interest at the distant figure. The pirate stood out boldly against the cloudy sky. Somebody seemed to speak to him from behind. He turned his head and then he turned round again. "We're only peaceful merchantmen!" he called out. "What authority have you got to come down upon us this way? If you'll come aboard I'll show you my papers and that we're only peaceful merchantmen." "The villains!" said the lieutenant to the master, who stood beside him. "They're peaceful merchantmen, are they! They look like peaceful merchantmen, with four carronades and a long gun aboard!" Then he called out across the water, "I'll come aboard with my schooner as soon as I can push her off here." "If you undertake to come aboard of me," called the pirate, "I'll shoot into you. You've got no authority to board me, and I won't have you do it. If you undertake it 'twill be at your own risk, for I'll neither ask quarter of you nor give none." "Very well," said the lieutenant, "if you choose to try that, you may do as you please; for I'm coming aboard of you as sure as heaven." "Push off the bow there!" called the boatswain at the wheel. "Look alive! Why don't you push off the bow?" "She's hard aground!" answered the gunner. "We can't budge her an inch." "If they was to fire into us now," said the sailing master, "they'd smash us to pieces." "They won't fire into us," said the lieutenant. "They won't dare to." He jumped down from the cabin deckhouse as he spoke, and went forward to urge the men in pushing off the boat. It was already beginning to move. At that moment the sailing master suddenly called out, "Mr. Maynard! Mr. Maynard! they're going to give us a broadside!" Almost before the words were out of his mouth, before Lieutenant Maynard could turn, there came a loud and deafening crash, and then instantly another, and a third, and almost as instantly a crackling and rending of broken wood. There were clean yellow splinters flying everywhere. A man fell violently against the lieutenant, nearly overturning him, but he caught at the stays and so saved himself. For one tense moment he stood holding his breath. Then all about him arose a sudden outcry of groans and shouts and oaths. The man who had fallen against him was lying face down upon the deck. His thighs were quivering, and a pool of blood was spreading and running out from under him. There were other men down, all about the deck. Some were rising; some were trying to rise; some only moved. There was a distant sound of yelling and cheering and shouting. It was from the pirate sloop. The pirates were rushing about upon her decks. They had pulled the cannon back, and, through the grunting sound of the groans about him, the lieutenant could distinctly hear the thud and punch of the rammers, and he knew they were going to shoot again. The low rail afforded almost no shelter against such a broadside, and there was nothing for it but to order all hands below for the time being. "Get below!" roared out the lieutenant. "All hands get below and lie snug for further orders!" In obedience the men ran scrambling below into the hold, and in a little while the decks were nearly clear except for the three dead men and some three or four wounded. The boatswain, crouching down close to the wheel, and the lieutenant himself were the only others upon deck. Everywhere there were smears and sprinkles of blood. "Where's Brookes?" the lieutenant called out. "He's hurt in the arm, sir, and he's gone below," said the boatswain. Thereupon the lieutenant himself walked over to the forecastle hatch, and, hailing the gunner, ordered him to get up another ladder, so that the men could be run up on deck if the pirates should undertake to come aboard. At that moment the boatswain at the wheel called out that the villains were going to shoot again, and the lieutenant, turning, saw the gunner aboard of the pirate sloop in the act of touching the iron to the touchhole. He stooped down. There was another loud and deafening crash of cannon, one, two, three--four--the last two almost together--and almost instantly the boatswain called out, "'Tis the sloop, sir! look at the sloop!" The sloop had got afloat again, and had been coming up to the aid of the schooner, when the pirates fired their second broadside now at her. When the lieutenant looked at her she was quivering with the impact of the shot, and the next moment she began falling off to the wind, and he could see the wounded men rising and falling and struggling upon her decks. At the same moment the boatswain called out that the enemy was coming aboard, and even as he spoke the pirate sloop came drifting out from the cloud of smoke that enveloped her, looming up larger and larger as she came down upon them. The lieutenant still crouched down under the rail, looking out at them. Suddenly, a little distance away, she came about, broadside on, and then drifted. She was close aboard now. Something came flying through the air--another and another. They were bottles. One of them broke with a crash upon the deck. The others rolled over to the farther rail. In each of them a quick-match was smoking. Almost instantly there was a flash and a terrific report, and the air was full of the whiz and singing of broken particles of glass and iron. There was another report, and then the whole air seemed full of gunpowder smoke. "They're aboard of us!" shouted the boatswain, and even as he spoke the lieutenant roared out, "All hands to repel boarders!" A second later there came the heavy, thumping bump of the vessels coming together. Lieutenant Maynard, as he called out the order, ran forward through the smoke, snatching one of his pistols out of his pocket and the cutlass out of its sheath as he did so. Behind him the men were coming, swarming up from below. There was a sudden stunning report of a pistol, and then another and another, almost together. There was a groan and the fall of a heavy body, and then a figure came jumping over the rail, with two or three more directly following. The lieutenant was in the midst of the gun powder smoke, when suddenly Blackbeard was before him. The pirate captain had stripped himself naked to the waist. His shaggy black hair was falling over his eyes, and he looked like a demon fresh from the pit, with his frantic face. Almost with the blindness of instinct the lieutenant thrust out his pistol, firing it as he did so. The pirate staggered back: he was down--no; he was up again. He had a pistol in each hand; but there was a stream of blood running down his naked ribs. Suddenly, the mouth of a pistol was pointing straight at the lieutenant's head. He ducked instinctively, striking upward with his cutlass as he did so. There was a stunning, deafening report almost in his ear. He struck again blindly with his cutlass. He saw the flash of a sword and flung up his guard almost instinctively, meeting the crash of the descending blade. Somebody shot from behind him, and at the same moment he saw some one else strike the pirate. Blackbeard staggered again, and this time there was a great gash upon his neck. Then one of Maynard's own men tumbled headlong upon him. He fell with the man, but almost instantly he had scrambled to his feet again, and as he did so he saw that the pirate sloop had drifted a little away from them, and that their grappling irons had evidently parted. His hand was smarting as though struck with the lash of a whip. He looked around him; the pirate captain was nowhere to be seen--yes, there he was, lying by the rail. He raised himself upon his elbow, and the lieutenant saw that he was trying to point a pistol at him, with an arm that wavered and swayed blindly, the pistol nearly falling from his fingers. Suddenly his other elbow gave way and he fell down upon his face. He tried to raise himself--he fell down again. There was a report and a cloud of smoke, and when it cleared away Blackbeard had staggered up again. He was a terrible figure his head nodding down upon his breast. Somebody shot again, and then the swaying figure toppled and fell. It lay still for a moment--then rolled over--then lay still again. There was a loud splash of men jumping overboard, and then, almost instantly, the cry of "Quarter! quarter!" The lieutenant ran to the edge of the vessel. It was as he had thought: the grappling irons of the pirate sloop had parted, and it had drifted away. The few pirates who had been left aboard of the schooner had jumped overboard and were now holding up their hands. "Quarter!" they cried. "Don't shoot!--quarter!" And the fight was over. The lieutenant looked down at his hand, and then he saw, for the first time, that there was a great cutlass gash across the back of it, and that his arm and shirt sleeve were wet with blood. He went aft, holding the wrist of his wounded hand. The boatswain was still at the wheel. "By zounds!" said the lieutenant, with a nervous, quavering laugh, "I didn't know there was such fight in the villains." His wounded and shattered sloop was again coming up toward him under sail, but the pirates had surrendered, and the fight was over. Chapter VI. BLUESKIN THE PIRATE I CAPE MAY and Cape Henlopen form, as it were, the upper and lower jaws of a gigantic mouth, which disgorges from its monstrous gullet the cloudy waters of the Delaware Bay into the heaving, sparkling blue-green of the Atlantic Ocean. From Cape Henlopen as the lower jaw there juts out a long, curving fang of high, smooth-rolling sand dunes, cutting sharp and clean against the still, blue sky above silent, naked, utterly deserted, excepting for the squat, white-walled lighthouse standing upon the crest of the highest hill. Within this curving, sheltering hook of sand hills lie the smooth waters of Lewes Harbor, and, set a little back from the shore, the quaint old town, with its dingy wooden houses of clapboard and shingle, looks sleepily out through the masts of the shipping lying at anchor in the harbor, to the purple, clean-cut, level thread of the ocean horizon beyond. Lewes is a queer, odd, old-fashioned little town, smelling fragrant of salt marsh and sea breeze. It is rarely visited by strangers. The people who live there are the progeny of people who have lived there for many generations, and it is the very place to nurse, and preserve, and care for old legends and traditions of bygone times, until they grow from bits of gossip and news into local history of considerable size. As in the busier world men talk of last year's elections, here these old bits, and scraps, and odds and ends of history are retailed to the listener who cares to listen--traditions of the War of 1812, when Beresford's fleet lay off the harbor threatening to bombard the town; tales of the Revolution and of Earl Howe's warships, tarrying for a while in the quiet harbor before they sailed up the river to shake old Philadelphia town with the thunders of their guns at Red Bank and Fort Mifflin. With these substantial and sober threads of real history, other and more lurid colors are interwoven into the web of local lore--legends of the dark doings of famous pirates, of their mysterious, sinister comings and goings, of treasures buried in the sand dunes and pine barrens back of the cape and along the Atlantic beach to the southward. Of such is the story of Blueskin, the pirate. II It was in the fall and the early winter of the year 1750, and again in the summer of the year following, that the famous pirate, Blueskin, became especially identified with Lewes as a part of its traditional history. For some time--for three or four years--rumors and reports of Blueskin's doings in the West Indies and off the Carolinas had been brought in now and then by sea captains. There was no more cruel, bloody, desperate, devilish pirate than he in all those pirate-infested waters. All kinds of wild and bloody stories were current concerning him, but it never occurred to the good folk of Lewes that such stories were some time to be a part of their own history. But one day a schooner came drifting into Lewes harbor--shattered, wounded, her forecastle splintered, her foremast shot half away, and three great tattered holes in her mainsail. The mate with one of the crew came ashore in the boat for help and a doctor. He reported that the captain and the cook were dead and there were three wounded men aboard. The story he told to the gathering crowd brought a very peculiar thrill to those who heard it. They had fallen in with Blueskin, he said, off Fenwick's Island (some twenty or thirty miles below the capes), and the pirates had come aboard of them; but, finding that the cargo of the schooner consisted only of cypress shingles and lumber, had soon quitted their prize. Perhaps Blueskin was disappointed at not finding a more valuable capture; perhaps the spirit of deviltry was hotter in him that morning than usual; anyhow, as the pirate craft bore away she fired three broadsides at short range into the helpless coaster. The captain had been killed at the first fire, the cook had died on the way up, three of the crew were wounded, and the vessel was leaking fast, betwixt wind and water. Such was the mate's story. It spread like wildfire, and in half an hour all the town was in a ferment. Fenwick's Island was very near home; Blueskin might come sailing into the harbor at any minute and then--! In an hour Sheriff Jones had called together most of the able-bodied men of the town, muskets and rifles were taken down from the chimney places, and every preparation was made to defend the place against the pirates, should they come into the harbor and attempt to land. But Blueskin did not come that day, nor did he come the next or the next. But on the afternoon of the third the news went suddenly flying over the town that the pirates were inside the capes. As the report spread the people came running--men, women, and children--to the green before the tavern, where a little knot of old seamen were gathered together, looking fixedly out toward the offing, talking in low voices. Two vessels, one bark-rigged, the other and smaller a sloop, were slowly creeping up the bay, a couple of miles or so away and just inside the cape. There appeared nothing remarkable about the two crafts, but the little crowd that continued gathering upon the green stood looking out across the bay at them none the less anxiously for that. They were sailing close-hauled to the wind, the sloop following in the wake of her consort as the pilot fish follows in the wake of the shark. But the course they held did not lie toward the harbor, but rather bore away toward the Jersey shore, and by and by it began to be apparent that Blueskin did not intend visiting the town. Nevertheless, those who stood looking did not draw a free breath until, after watching the two pirates for more than an hour and a half, they saw them--then about six miles away--suddenly put about and sail with a free wind out to sea again. "The bloody villains have gone!" said old Captain Wolfe, shutting his telescope with a click. But Lewes was not yet quit of Blueskin. Two days later a half-breed from Indian River bay came up, bringing the news that the pirates had sailed into the inlet--some fifteen miles below Lewes--and had careened the bark to clean her. Perhaps Blueskin did not care to stir up the country people against him, for the half-breed reported that the pirates were doing no harm, and that what they took from the farmers of Indian River and Rehoboth they paid for with good hard money. It was while the excitement over the pirates was at its highest fever heat that Levi West came home again. III Even in the middle of the last century the grist mill, a couple of miles from Lewes, although it was at most but fifty or sixty years old, had all a look of weather-beaten age, for the cypress shingles, of which it was built, ripen in a few years of wind and weather to a silvery, hoary gray, and the white powdering of flour lent it a look as though the dust of ages had settled upon it, making the shadows within dim, soft, mysterious. A dozen willow trees shaded with dappling, shivering ripples of shadow the road before the mill door, and the mill itself, and the long, narrow, shingle-built, one-storied, hip-roofed dwelling house. At the time of the story the mill had descended in a direct line of succession to Hiram White, the grandson of old Ephraim White, who had built it, it was said, in 1701. Hiram White was only twenty-seven years old, but he was already in local repute as a "character." As a boy he was thought to be half-witted or "natural," and, as is the case with such unfortunates in small country towns where everybody knows everybody, he was made a common sport and jest for the keener, crueler wits of the neighborhood. Now that he was grown to the ripeness of manhood he was still looked upon as being--to use a quaint expression--"slack," or "not jest right." He was heavy, awkward, ungainly and loose-jointed, and enormously, prodigiously strong. He had a lumpish, thick-featured face, with lips heavy and loosely hanging, that gave him an air of stupidity, half droll, half pathetic. His little eyes were set far apart and flat with his face, his eyebrows were nearly white and his hair was of a sandy, colorless kind. He was singularly taciturn, lisping thickly when he did talk, and stuttering and hesitating in his speech, as though his words moved faster than his mind could follow. It was the custom for local wags to urge, or badger, or tempt him to talk, for the sake of the ready laugh that always followed the few thick, stammering words and the stupid drooping of the jaw at the end of each short speech. Perhaps Squire Hall was the only one in Lewes Hundred who misdoubted that Hiram was half-witted. He had had dealings with him and was wont to say that whoever bought Hiram White for a fool made a fool's bargain. Certainly, whether he had common wits or no, Hiram had managed his mill to pretty good purpose and was fairly well off in the world as prosperity went in southern Delaware and in those days. No doubt, had it come to the pinch, he might have bought some of his tormentors out three times over. Hiram White had suffered quite a financial loss some six months before, through that very Blueskin who was now lurking in Indian River inlet. He had entered into a "venture" with Josiah Shippin, a Philadelphia merchant, to the tune of seven hundred pounds sterling. The money had been invested in a cargo of flour and corn meal which had been shipped to Jamaica by the bark Nancy Lee. The Nancy Lee had been captured by the pirates off Currituck Sound, the crew set adrift in the longboat, and the bark herself and all her cargo burned to the water's edge. Five hundred of the seven hundred pounds invested in the unfortunate "venture" was money bequeathed by Hiram's father, seven years before, to Levi West. Eleazer White had been twice married, the second time to the widow West. She had brought with her to her new home a good-looking, long-legged, black-eyed, black-haired ne'er-do-well of a son, a year or so younger than Hiram. He was a shrewd, quick-witted lad, idle, shiftless, willful, ill-trained perhaps, but as bright and keen as a pin. He was the very opposite to poor, dull Hiram. Eleazer White had never loved his son; he was ashamed of the poor, slack-witted oaf. Upon the other hand, he was very fond of Levi West, whom he always called "our Levi," and whom he treated in every way as though he were his own son. He tried to train the lad to work in the mill, and was patient beyond what the patience of most fathers would have been with his stepson's idleness and shiftlessness. "Never mind," he was used to say. "Levi'll come all right. Levi's as bright as a button." It was one of the greatest blows of the old miller's life when Levi ran away to sea. In his last sickness the old man's mind constantly turned to his lost stepson. "Mebby he'll come back again," said he, "and if he does I want you to be good to him, Hiram. I've done my duty by you and have left you the house and mill, but I want you to promise that if Levi comes back again you'll give him a home and a shelter under this roof if he wants one." And Hiram had promised to do as his father asked. After Eleazer died it was found that he had bequeathed five hundred pounds to his "beloved stepson, Levi West," and had left Squire Hall as trustee. Levi West had been gone nearly nine years and not a word had been heard from him; there could be little or no doubt that he was dead. One day Hiram came into Squire Hall's office with a letter in his hand. It was the time of the old French war, and flour and corn meal were fetching fabulous prices in the British West Indies. The letter Hiram brought with him was from a Philadelphia merchant, Josiah Shippin, with whom he had had some dealings. Mr. Shippin proposed that Hiram should join him in sending a "venture" of flour and corn meal to Kingston, Jamaica. Hiram had slept upon the letter overnight and now he brought it to the old Squire. Squire Hall read the letter, shaking his head the while. "Too much risk, Hiram!" said he. "Mr Shippin wouldn't have asked you to go into this venture if he could have got anybody else to do so. My advice is that you let it alone. I reckon you've come to me for advice?" Hiram shook his head. "Ye haven't? What have ye come for, then?" "Seven hundred pounds," said Hiram. "Seven hundred pounds!" said Squire Hall. "I haven't got seven hundred pounds to lend you, Hiram." "Five hundred been left to Levi--I got hundred--raise hundred more on mortgage," said Hiram. "Tut, tut, Hiram," said Squire Hall, "that'll never do in the world. Suppose Levi West should come back again, what then? I'm responsible for that money. If you wanted to borrow it now for any reasonable venture, you should have it and welcome, but for such a wildcat scheme--" "Levi never come back," said Hiram--"nine years gone Levi's dead." "Mebby he is," said Squire Hall, "but we don't know that." "I'll give bond for security," said Hiram. Squire Hall thought for a while in silence. "Very well, Hiram," said he by and by, "if you'll do that. Your father left the money, and I don't see that it's right for me to stay his son from using it. But if it is lost, Hiram, and if Levi should come back, it will go well to ruin ye." So Hiram White invested seven hundred pounds in the Jamaica venture and every farthing of it was burned by Blueskin, off Currituck Sound. IV Sally Martin was said to be the prettiest girl in Lewes Hundred, and when the rumor began to leak out that Hiram White was courting her the whole community took it as a monstrous joke. It was the common thing to greet Hiram himself with, "Hey, Hiram; how's Sally?" Hiram never made answer to such salutation, but went his way as heavily, as impassively, as dully as ever. The joke was true. Twice a week, rain or shine, Hiram White never failed to scrape his feet upon Billy Martin's doorstep. Twice a week, on Sundays and Thursdays, he never failed to take his customary seat by the kitchen fire. He rarely said anything by way of talk; he nodded to the farmer, to his wife, to Sally and, when he chanced to be at home, to her brother, but he ventured nothing further. There he would sit from half past seven until nine o'clock, stolid, heavy, impassive, his dull eyes following now one of the family and now another, but always coming back again to Sally. It sometimes happened that she had other company--some of the young men of the neighborhood. The presence of such seemed to make no difference to Hiram; he bore whatever broad jokes might be cracked upon him, whatever grins, whatever giggling might follow those jokes, with the same patient impassiveness. There he would sit, silent, unresponsive; then, at the first stroke of nine o'clock, he would rise, shoulder his ungainly person into his overcoat, twist his head into his three-cornered hat, and with a "Good night, Sally, I be going now," would take his departure, shutting the door carefully to behind him. Never, perhaps, was there a girl in the world had such a lover and such a courtship as Sally Martin. V It was one Thursday evening in the latter part of November, about a week after Blueskin's appearance off the capes, and while the one subject of talk was of the pirates being in Indian River inlet. The air was still and wintry; a sudden cold snap had set in and skims of ice had formed over puddles in the road; the smoke from the chimneys rose straight in the quiet air and voices sounded loud, as they do in frosty weather. Hiram White sat by the dim light of a tallow dip, poring laboriously over some account books. It was not quite seven o'clock, and he never started for Billy Martin's before that hour. As he ran his finger slowly and hesitatingly down the column of figures, he heard the kitchen door beyond open and shut, the noise of footsteps crossing the floor and the scraping of a chair dragged forward to the hearth. Then came the sound of a basket of corncobs being emptied on the smoldering blaze and then the snapping and crackling of the reanimated fire. Hiram thought nothing of all this, excepting, in a dim sort of way, that it was Bob, the negro mill hand, or old black Dinah, the housekeeper, and so went on with his calculations. At last he closed the books with a snap and, smoothing down his hair, arose, took up the candle, and passed out of the room into the kitchen beyond. A man was sitting in front of the corncob fire that flamed and blazed in the great, gaping, sooty fireplace. A rough overcoat was flung over the chair behind him and his hands were spread out to the roaring warmth. At the sound of the lifted latch and of Hiram's entrance he turned his head, and when Hiram saw his face he stood suddenly still as though turned to stone. The face, marvelously altered and changed as it was, was the face of his stepbrother, Levi West. He was not dead; he had come home again. For a time not a sound broke the dead, unbroken silence excepting the crackling of the blaze in the fireplace and the sharp ticking of the tall clock in the corner. The one face, dull and stolid, with the light of the candle shining upward over its lumpy features, looked fixedly, immovably, stonily at the other, sharp, shrewd, cunning--the red wavering light of the blaze shining upon the high cheek bones, cutting sharp on the nose and twinkling in the glassy turn of the black, ratlike eyes. Then suddenly that face cracked, broadened, spread to a grin. "I have come back again, Hi," said Levi, and at the sound of the words the speechless spell was broken. Hiram answered never a word, but he walked to the fireplace, set the candle down upon the dusty mantelshelf among the boxes and bottles, and, drawing forward a chair upon the other side of the hearth, sat down. His dull little eyes never moved from his stepbrother's face. There was no curiosity in his expression, no surprise, no wonder. The heavy under lip dropped a little farther open and there was more than usual of dull, expressionless stupidity upon the lumpish face; but that was all. As was said, the face upon which he looked was strangely, marvelously changed from what it had been when he had last seen it nine years before, and, though it was still the face of Levi West, it was a very different Levi West than the shiftless ne'er-do-well who had run away to sea in the Brazilian brig that long time ago. That Levi West had been a rough, careless, happy-go-lucky fellow; thoughtless and selfish, but with nothing essentially evil or sinister in his nature. The Levi West that now sat in a rush-bottom chair at the other side of the fireplace had that stamped upon his front that might be both evil and sinister. His swart complexion was tanned to an Indian copper. On one side of his face was a curious discoloration in the skin and a long, crooked, cruel scar that ran diagonally across forehead and temple and cheek in a white, jagged seam. This discoloration was of a livid blue, about the tint of a tattoo mark. It made a patch the size of a man's hand, lying across the cheek and the side of the neck. Hiram could not keep his eyes from this mark and the white scar cutting across it. There was an odd sort of incongruity in Levi's dress; a pair of heavy gold earrings and a dirty red handkerchief knotted loosely around his neck, beneath an open collar, displaying to its full length the lean, sinewy throat with its bony "Adam's apple," gave to his costume somewhat the smack of a sailor. He wore a coat that had once been of fine plum color--now stained and faded--too small for his lean length, and furbished with tarnished lace. Dirty cambric cuffs hung at his wrists and on his fingers were half a dozen and more rings, set with stones that shone, and glistened, and twinkled in the light of the fire. The hair at either temple was twisted into a Spanish curl, plastered flat to the cheek, and a plaited queue hung halfway down his back. Hiram, speaking never a word, sat motionless, his dull little eyes traveling slowly up and down and around and around his stepbrother's person. Levi did not seem to notice his scrutiny, leaning forward, now with his palms spread out to the grateful warmth, now rubbing them slowly together. But at last he suddenly whirled his chair around, rasping on the floor, and faced his stepbrother. He thrust his hand into his capacious coat pocket and brought out a pipe which he proceeded to fill from a skin of tobacco. "Well, Hi," said he, "d'ye see I've come back home again?" "Thought you was dead," said Hiram, dully. Levi laughed, then he drew a red-hot coal out of the fire, put it upon the bowl of the pipe and began puffing out clouds of pungent smoke. "Nay, nay," said he; "not dead--not dead by odds. But [puff] by the Eternal Holy, Hi, I played many a close game [puff] with old Davy Jones, for all that." Hiram's look turned inquiringly toward the jagged scar and Levi caught the slow glance. "You're lookin' at this," said he, running his finger down the crooked seam. "That looks bad, but it wasn't so close as this"--laying his hand for a moment upon the livid stain. "A cooly devil off Singapore gave me that cut when we fell foul of an opium junk in the China Sea four years ago last September. This," touching the disfiguring blue patch again, "was a closer miss, Hi. A Spanish captain fired a pistol at me down off Santa Catharina. He was so nigh that the powder went under the skin and it'll never come out again. ---- his eyes--he had better have fired the pistol into his own head that morning. But never mind that. I reckon I'm changed, ain't I, Hi?" He took his pipe out of his mouth and looked inquiringly at Hiram, who nodded. Levi laughed. "Devil doubt it," said he, "but whether I'm changed or no, I'll take my affidavy that you are the same old half-witted Hi that you used to be. I remember dad used to say that you hadn't no more than enough wits to keep you out of the rain. And, talking of dad, Hi, I hearn tell he's been dead now these nine years gone. D'ye know what I've come home for?" Hiram shook his head. "I've come for that five hundred pounds that dad left me when he died, for I hearn tell of that, too." Hiram sat quite still for a second or two and then he said, "I put that money out to venture and lost it all." Levi's face fell and he took his pipe out of his mouth, regarding Hiram sharply and keenly. "What d'ye mean?" said he presently. "I thought you was dead--and I put--seven hundred pounds--into Nancy Lee--and Blueskin burned her--off Currituck." "Burned her off Currituck!" repeated Levi. Then suddenly a light seemed to break upon his comprehension. "Burned by Blueskin!" he repeated, and thereupon flung himself back in his chair and burst into a short, boisterous fit of laughter. "Well, by the Holy Eternal, Hi, if that isn't a piece of your tarnal luck. Burned by Blueskin, was it?" He paused for a moment, as though turning it over in his mind. Then he laughed again. "All the same," said he presently, "d'ye see, I can't suffer for Blueskin's doings. The money was willed to me, fair and true, and you have got to pay it, Hiram White, burn or sink, Blueskin or no Blueskin." Again he puffed for a moment or two in reflective silence. "All the same, Hi," said he, once more resuming the thread of talk, "I don't reckon to be too hard on you. You be only half-witted, anyway, and I sha'n't be too hard on you. I give you a month to raise that money, and while you're doing it I'll jest hang around here. I've been in trouble, Hi, d'ye see. I'm under a cloud and so I want to keep here, as quiet as may be. I'll tell ye how it came about: I had a set-to with a land pirate in Philadelphia, and somebody got hurt. That's the reason I'm here now, and don't you say anything about it. Do you understand?" Hiram opened his lips as though it was his intent to answer, then seemed to think better of it and contented himself by nodding his head. That Thursday night was the first for a six-month that Hiram White did not scrape his feet clean at Billy Martin's doorstep. VI Within a week Levi West had pretty well established himself among his old friends and acquaintances, though upon a different footing from that of nine years before, for this was a very different Levi from that other. Nevertheless, he was none the less popular in the barroom of the tavern and at the country store, where he was always the center of a group of loungers. His nine years seemed to have been crowded full of the wildest of wild adventures and happenings, as well by land as by sea, and, given an appreciative audience, he would reel off his yarns by the hour, in a reckless, devil-may-care fashion that set agape even old sea dogs who had sailed the western ocean since boyhood. Then he seemed always to have plenty of money, and he loved to spend it at the tavern tap-room, with a lavishness that was at once the wonder and admiration of gossips. At that time, as was said, Blueskin was the one engrossing topic of talk, and it added not a little to Levi's prestige when it was found that he had actually often seen that bloody, devilish pirate with his own eyes. A great, heavy, burly fellow, Levi said he was, with a beard as black as a hat--a devil with his sword and pistol afloat, but not so black as he was painted when ashore. He told of many adventures in which Blueskin figured and was then always listened to with more than usual gaping interest. As for Blueskin, the quiet way in which the pirates conducted themselves at Indian River almost made the Lewes folk forget what he could do when the occasion called. They almost ceased to remember that poor shattered schooner that had crawled with its ghastly dead and groaning wounded into the harbor a couple of weeks since. But if for a while they forgot who or what Blueskin was, it was not for long. One day a bark from Bristol, bound for Cuba and laden with a valuable cargo of cloth stuffs and silks, put into Lewes harbor to take in water. The captain himself came ashore and was at the tavern for two or three hours. It happened that Levi was there and that the talk was of Blueskin. The English captain, a grizzled old sea dog, listened to Levi's yarns with not a little contempt. He had, he said, sailed in the China Sea and the Indian Ocean too long to be afraid of any hog-eating Yankee pirate such as this Blueskin. A junk full of coolies armed with stink-pots was something to speak of, but who ever heard of the likes of Blueskin falling afoul of anything more than a Spanish canoe or a Yankee coaster? Levi grinned. "All the same, my hearty," said he, "if I was you I'd give Blueskin a wide berth. I hear that he's cleaned the vessel that was careened awhile ago, and mebby he'll give you a little trouble if you come too nigh him." To this the Englishman only answered that Blueskin might be----, and that the next afternoon, wind and weather permitting, he intended to heave anchor and run out to sea. Levi laughed again. "I wish I might be here to see what'll happen," said he, "but I'm going up the river to-night to see a gal and mebby won't be back again for three or four days." The next afternoon the English bark set sail as the captain promised, and that night Lewes town was awake until almost morning, gazing at a broad red glare that lighted up the sky away toward the southeast. Two days afterward a negro oysterman came up from Indian River with news that the pirates were lying off the inlet, bringing ashore bales of goods from their larger vessel and piling the same upon the beach under tarpaulins. He said that it was known down at Indian River that Blueskin had fallen afoul of an English bark, had burned her and had murdered the captain and all but three of the crew, who had joined with the pirates. The excitement over this terrible happening had only begun to subside when another occurred to cap it. One afternoon a ship's boat, in which were five men and two women, came rowing into Lewes harbor. It was the longboat of the Charleston packet, bound for New York, and was commanded by the first mate. The packet had been attacked and captured by the pirates about ten leagues south by east of Cape Henlopen. The pirates had come aboard of them at night and no resistance had been offered. Perhaps it was that circumstance that saved the lives of all, for no murder or violence had been done. Nevertheless, officers, passengers and crew had been stripped of everything of value and set adrift in the boats and the ship herself had been burned. The longboat had become separated from the others during the night and had sighted Henlopen a little after sunrise. It may be here said that Squire Hall made out a report of these two occurrences and sent it up to Philadelphia by the mate of the packet. But for some reason it was nearly four weeks before a sloop of war was sent around from New York. In the meanwhile, the pirates had disposed of the booty stored under the tarpaulins on the beach at Indian River inlet, shipping some of it away in two small sloops and sending the rest by wagons somewhere up the country. VII Levi had told the English captain that he was going up-country to visit one of his lady friends. He was gone nearly two weeks. Then once more he appeared, as suddenly, as unexpectedly, as he had done when he first returned to Lewes. Hiram was sitting at supper when the door opened and Levi walked in, hanging up his hat behind the door as unconcernedly as though he had only been gone an hour. He was in an ugly, lowering humor and sat himself down at the table without uttering a word, resting his chin upon his clenched fist and glowering fixedly at the corn cake while Dinah fetched him a plate and knife and fork. His coming seemed to have taken away all of Hiram's appetite. He pushed away his plate and sat staring at his stepbrother, who presently fell to at the bacon and eggs like a famished wolf. Not a word was said until Levi had ended his meal and filled his pipe. "Look'ee, Hiram," said he, as he stooped over the fire and raked out a hot coal. "Look'ee, Hiram! I've been to Philadelphia, d'ye see, a-settlin' up that trouble I told you about when I first come home. D'ye understand? D'ye remember? D'ye get it through your skull?" He looked around over his shoulder, waiting as though for an answer. But getting none, he continued: "I expect two gentlemen here from Philadelphia to-night. They're friends of mine and are coming to talk over the business and ye needn't stay at home, Hi. You can go out somewhere, d'ye understand?" And then he added with a grin, "Ye can go to see Sally." Hiram pushed back his chair and arose. He leaned with his back against the side of the fireplace. "I'll stay at home," said he presently. "But I don't want you to stay at home, Hi," said Levi. "We'll have to talk business and I want you to go!" "I'll stay at home," said Hiram again. Levi's brow grew as black as thunder. He ground his teeth together and for a moment or two it seemed as though an explosion was coming. But he swallowed his passion with a gulp. "You're a----pig-headed, half-witted fool," said he. Hiram never so much as moved his eyes. "As for you," said Levi, whirling round upon Dinah, who was clearing the table, and glowering balefully upon the old negress, "you put them things down and git out of here. Don't you come nigh this kitchen again till I tell ye to. If I catch you pryin' around may I be----, eyes and liver, if I don't cut your heart out." In about half an hour Levi's friends came; the first a little, thin, wizened man with a very foreign look. He was dressed in a rusty black suit and wore gray yarn stockings and shoes with brass buckles. The other was also plainly a foreigner. He was dressed in sailor fashion, with petticoat breeches of duck, a heavy pea-jacket, and thick boots, reaching to the knees. He wore a red sash tied around his waist, and once, as he pushed back his coat, Hiram saw the glitter of a pistol butt. He was a powerful, thickset man, low-browed and bull-necked, his cheek, and chin, and throat closely covered with a stubble of blue-black beard. He wore a red kerchief tied around his head and over it a cocked hat, edged with tarnished gilt braid. Levi himself opened the door to them. He exchanged a few words outside with his visitors, in a foreign language of which Hiram understood nothing. Neither of the two strangers spoke a word to Hiram: the little man shot him a sharp look out of the corners of his eyes and the burly ruffian scowled blackly at him, but beyond that neither vouchsafed him any regard. Levi drew to the shutters, shot the bolt in the outer door, and tilted a chair against the latch of the one that led from the kitchen into the adjoining room. Then the three worthies seated themselves at the table which Dinah had half cleared of the supper china, and were presently deeply engrossed over a packet of papers which the big, burly man had brought with him in the pocket of his pea-jacket. The confabulation was conducted throughout in the same foreign language which Levi had used when first speaking to them--a language quite unintelligible to Hiram's ears. Now and then the murmur of talk would rise loud and harsh over some disputed point; now and then it would sink away to whispers. Twice the tall clock in the corner whirred and sharply struck the hour, but throughout the whole long consultation Hiram stood silent, motionless as a stock, his eyes fixed almost unwinkingly upon the three heads grouped close together around the dim, flickering light of the candle and the papers scattered upon the table. Suddenly the talk came to an end, the three heads separated and the three chairs were pushed back, grating harshly. Levi rose, went to the closet and brought thence a bottle of Hiram's apple brandy, as coolly as though it belonged to himself. He set three tumblers and a crock of water upon the table and each helped himself liberally. As the two visitors departed down the road, Levi stood for a while at the open door, looking after the dusky figures until they were swallowed in the darkness. Then he turned, came in, shut the door, shuddered, took a final dose of the apple brandy and went to bed, without, since his first suppressed explosion, having said a single word to Hiram. Hiram, left alone, stood for a while, silent, motionless as ever, then he looked slowly about him, gave a shake of the shoulders as though to arouse himself, and taking the candle, left the room, shutting the door noiselessly behind him. VIII This time of Levi West's unwelcome visitation was indeed a time of bitter trouble and tribulation to poor Hiram White. Money was of very different value in those days than it is now, and five hundred pounds was in its way a good round lump--in Sussex County it was almost a fortune. It was a desperate struggle for Hiram to raise the amount of his father's bequest to his stepbrother. Squire Hall, as may have been gathered, had a very warm and friendly feeling for Hiram, believing in him when all others disbelieved; nevertheless, in the matter of money the old man was as hard and as cold as adamant. He would, he said, do all he could to help Hiram, but that five hundred pounds must and should be raised--Hiram must release his security bond. He would loan him, he said, three hundred pounds, taking a mortgage upon the mill. He would have lent him four hundred but that there was already a first mortgage of one hundred pounds upon it, and he would not dare to put more than three hundred more atop of that. Hiram had a considerable quantity of wheat which he had bought upon speculation and which was then lying idle in a Philadelphia storehouse. This he had sold at public sale and at a very great sacrifice; he realized barely one hundred pounds upon it. The financial horizon looked very black to him; nevertheless, Levi's five hundred pounds was raised, and paid into Squire Hall's hands, and Squire Hall released Hiram's bond. The business was finally closed on one cold, gray afternoon in the early part of December. As Hiram tore his bond across and then tore it across again and again, Squire Hall pushed back the papers upon his desk and cocked his feet upon its slanting top. "Hiram," said he, abruptly, "Hiram, do you know that Levi West is forever hanging around Billy Martin's house, after that pretty daughter of his?" So long a space of silence followed the speech that the Squire began to think that Hiram might not have heard him. But Hiram had heard. "No," said he, "I didn't know it." "Well, he is," said Squire Hall. "It's the talk of the whole neighborhood. The talk's pretty bad, too. D'ye know that they say that she was away from home three days last week, nobody knew where? The fellow's turned her head with his sailor's yarns and his traveler's lies." Hiram said not a word, but he sat looking at the other in stolid silence. "That stepbrother of yours," continued the old Squire presently, "is a rascal--he is a rascal, Hiram, and I mis-doubt he's something worse. I hear he's been seen in some queer places and with queer company of late." He stopped again, and still Hiram said nothing. "And look'ee, Hiram," the old man resumed, suddenly, "I do hear that you be courtin' the girl, too; is that so?" "Yes," said Hiram, "I'm courtin' her, too." "Tut! tut!" said the Squire, "that's a pity, Hiram. I'm afraid your cakes are dough." After he had left the Squire's office, Hiram stood for a while in the street, bareheaded, his hat in his hand, staring unwinkingly down at the ground at his feet, with stupidly drooping lips and lackluster eyes. Presently he raised his hand and began slowly smoothing down the sandy shock of hair upon his forehead. At last he aroused himself with a shake, looked dully up and down the street, and then, putting on his hat, turned and walked slowly and heavily away. The early dusk of the cloudy winter evening was settling fast, for the sky was leaden and threatening. At the outskirts of the town Hiram stopped again and again stood for a while in brooding thought. Then, finally, he turned slowly, not the way that led homeward, but taking the road that led between the bare and withered fields and crooked fences toward Billy Martin's. It would be hard to say just what it was that led Hiram to seek Billy Martin's house at that time of day--whether it was fate or ill fortune. He could not have chosen a more opportune time to confirm his own undoing. What he saw was the very worst that his heart feared. Along the road, at a little distance from the house, was a mock-orange hedge, now bare, naked, leafless. As Hiram drew near he heard footsteps approaching and low voices. He drew back into the fence corner and there stood, half sheltered by the stark network of twigs. Two figures passed slowly along the gray of the roadway in the gloaming. One was his stepbrother, the other was Sally Martin. Levi's arm was around her, he was whispering into her ear, and her head rested upon his shoulder. Hiram stood as still, as breathless, as cold as ice. They stopped upon the side of the road just beyond where he stood. Hiram's eyes never left them. There for some time they talked together in low voices, their words now and then reaching the ears of that silent, breathless listener. Suddenly there came the clattering of an opening door, and then Betty Martin's voice broke the silence, harshly, shrilly: "Sal!--Sal!--Sally Martin! You, Sally Martin! Come in yere. Where be ye?" The girl flung her arms around Levi's neck and their lips met in one quick kiss. The next moment she was gone, flying swiftly, silently, down the road past where Hiram stood, stooping as she ran. Levi stood looking after her until she was gone; then he turned and walked away whistling. His whistling died shrilly into silence in the wintry distance, and then at last Hiram came stumbling out from the hedge. His face had never looked before as it looked then. IX Hiram was standing in front of the fire with his hands clasped behind his back. He had not touched the supper on the table. Levi was eating with an appetite. Suddenly he looked over his plate at his stepbrother. "How about that five hundred pounds, Hiram?" said he. "I gave ye a month to raise it and the month ain't quite up yet, but I'm goin' to leave this here place day after to-morrow--by next day at the furd'st--and I want the money that's mine." "I paid it to Squire Hall to-day and he has it fer ye," said Hiram, dully. Levi laid down his knife and fork with a clatter. "Squire Hall!" said he, "what's Squire Hall got to do with it? Squire Hall didn't have the use of that money. It was you had it and you have got to pay it back to me, and if you don't do it, by G----, I'll have the law on you, sure as you're born." "Squire Hall's trustee--I ain't your trustee," said Hiram, in the same dull voice. "I don't know nothing about trustees," said Levi, "or anything about lawyer business, either. What I want to know is, are you going to pay me my money or no?" "No," said Hiram, "I ain't--Squire Hall'll pay ye; you go to him." Levi West's face grew purple red. He pushed back, his chair grating harshly. "You--bloody land pirate!" he said, grinding his teeth together. "I see through your tricks. You're up to cheating me out of my money. You know very well that Squire Hall is down on me, hard and bitter--writin' his----reports to Philadelphia and doing all he can to stir up everybody agin me and to bring the bluejackets down on me. I see through your tricks as clear as glass, but ye shatn't trick me. I'll have my money if there's law in the land--ye bloody, unnatural thief ye, who'd go agin our dead father's will!" Then--if the roof had fallen in upon him, Levi West could not have been more amazed--Hiram suddenly strode forward, and, leaning half across the table with his fists clenched, fairly glared into Levi's eyes. His face, dull, stupid, wooden, was now fairly convulsed with passion. The great veins stood out upon his temples like knotted whipcords, and when he spoke his voice was more a breathless snarl than the voice of a Christian man. "Ye'll have the law, will ye?" said he. "Ye'll--have the law, will ye? You're afeared to go to law--Levi West--you try th' law--and see how ye like it. Who 're you to call me thief--ye bloody, murderin' villain ye! You're the thief--Levi West--you come here and stole my daddy from me ye did. You make me ruin--myself to pay what oughter to been mine then--ye ye steal the gal I was courtin', to boot." He stopped and his lips rithed for words to say. "I know ye," said he, grinding his teeth. "I know ye! And only for what my daddy made me promise I'd a-had you up to the magistrate's before this." Then, pointing with quivering finger: "There's the door--you see it! Go out that there door and don't never come into it again--if ye do--or if ye ever come where I can lay eyes on ye again--by th' Holy Holy I'll hale ye up to the Squire's office and tell all I know and all I've seen. Oh, I'll give ye your belly-fill of law if--ye want th' law! Git out of the house, I say!" As Hiram spoke Levi seemed to shrink together. His face changed from its copper color to a dull, waxy yellow. When the other ended he answered never a word. But he pushed back his chair, rose, put on his hat and, with a furtive, sidelong look, left the house, without stopping to finish the supper which he had begun. He never entered Hiram White's door again. X Hiram had driven out the evil spirit from his home, but the mischief that it had brewed was done and could not be undone. The next day it was known that Sally Martin had run away from home, and that she had run away with Levi West. Old Billy Martin had been in town in the morning with his rifle, hunting for Levi and threatening if he caught him to have his life for leading his daughter astray. And, as the evil spirit had left Hiram's house, so had another and a greater evil spirit quitted its harborage. It was heard from Indian River in a few days more that Blueskin had quitted the inlet and had sailed away to the southeast; and it was reported, by those who seemed to know, that he had finally quitted those parts. It was well for himself that Blueskin left when he did, for not three days after he sailed away the Scorpion sloop-of-war dropped anchor in Lewes harbor. The New York agent of the unfortunate packet and a government commissioner had also come aboard the Scorpion. Without loss of time, the officer in command instituted a keen and searching examination that brought to light some singularly curious facts. It was found that a very friendly understanding must have existed for some time between the pirates and the people of Indian River, for, in the houses throughout that section, many things--some of considerable value--that had been taken by the pirates from the packet, were discovered and seized by the commissioner. Valuables of a suspicious nature had found their way even into the houses of Lewes itself. The whole neighborhood seemed to have become more or less tainted by the presence of the pirates. Even poor Hiram White did not escape the suspicions of having had dealings with them. Of course the examiners were not slow in discovering that Levi West had been deeply concerned with Blueskin's doings. Old Dinah and black Bob were examined, and not only did the story of Levi's two visitors come to light, but also the fact that Hiram was present and with them while they were in the house disposing of the captured goods to their agent. Of all that he had endured, nothing seemed to cut poor Hiram so deeply and keenly as these unjust suspicions. They seemed to bring the last bitter pang, hardest of all to bear. Levi had taken from him his father's love; he had driven him, if not to ruin, at least perilously close to it. He had run away with the girl he loved, and now, through him, even Hiram's good name was gone. Neither did the suspicions against him remain passive; they became active. Goldsmiths' bills, to the amount of several thousand pounds, had been taken in the packet and Hiram was examined with an almost inquisitorial closeness and strictness as to whether he had or had not knowledge of their whereabouts. Under his accumulated misfortunes, he grew not only more dull, more taciturn, than ever, but gloomy, moody, brooding as well. For hours he would sit staring straight before him into the fire, without moving so much as a hair. One night--it was a bitterly cold night in February, with three inches of dry and gritty snow upon the ground--while Hiram sat thus brooding, there came, of a sudden, a soft tap upon the door. Low and hesitating as it was, Hiram started violently at the sound. He sat for a while, looking from right to left. Then suddenly pushing back his chair, he arose, strode to the door, and flung it wide open. It was Sally Martin. Hiram stood for a while staring blankly at her. It was she who first spoke. "Won't you let me come in, Hi?" said she. "I'm nigh starved with the cold and I'm fit to die, I'm so hungry. For God's sake, let me come in." "Yes," said Hiram, "I'll let you come in, but why don't you go home?" The poor girl was shivering and chattering with the cold; now she began crying, wiping her eyes with the corner of a blanket in which her head and shoulders were wrapped. "I have been home, Hiram," she said, "but dad, he shut the door in my face. He cursed me just awful, Hi--I wish I was dead!" "You better come in," said Hiram. "It's no good standing out there in the cold." He stood aside and the girl entered, swiftly, gratefully. At Hiram's bidding black Dinah presently set some food before Sally and she fell to eating ravenously, almost ferociously. Meantime, while she ate, Hiram stood with his back to the fire, looking at her face that face once so round and rosy, now thin, pinched, haggard. "Are you sick, Sally?" said he presently. "No," said she, "but I've had pretty hard times since I left home, Hi." The tears sprang to her eyes at the recollection of her troubles, but she only wiped them hastily away with the back of her hand, without stopping in her eating. A long pause of dead silence followed. Dinah sat crouched together on a cricket at the other side of the hearth, listening with interest. Hiram did not seem to see her. "Did you go off with Levi?" said he at last, speaking abruptly. The girl looked up furtively under her brows. "You needn't be afeared to tell," he added. "Yes," said she at last, "I did go off with him, Hi." "Where've you been?" At the question, she suddenly laid down her knife and fork. "Don't you ask me that, Hi," said she, agitatedly, "I can't tell you that. You don't know Levi, Hiram; I darsn't tell you anything he don't want me to. If I told you where I been he'd hunt me out, no matter where I was, and kill me. If you only knew what I know about him, Hiram, you wouldn't ask anything about him." Hiram stood looking broodingly at her for a long time; then at last he again spoke. "I thought a sight of you onc't, Sally," said he. Sally did not answer immediately, but, after a while, she suddenly looked up. "Hiram," said she, "if I tell ye something will you promise on your oath not to breathe a word to any living soul?" Hiram nodded. "Then I'll tell you, but if Levi finds I've told he'll murder me as sure as you're standin' there. Come nigher--I've got to whisper it." He leaned forward close to her where she sat. She looked swiftly from right to left; then raising her lips she breathed into his ear: "I'm an honest woman, Hi. I was married to Levi West before I run away." XI The winter had passed, spring had passed, and summer had come. Whatever Hiram had felt, he had made no sign of suffering. Nevertheless, his lumpy face had begun to look flabby, his cheeks hollow, and his loose-jointed body shrunk more awkwardly together into its clothes. He was often awake at night, sometimes walking up and down his room until far into the small hours. It was through such a wakeful spell as this that he entered into the greatest, the most terrible, happening of his life. It was a sulphurously hot night in July. The air was like the breath of a furnace, and it was a hard matter to sleep with even the easiest mind and under the most favorable circumstances. The full moon shone in through the open window, laying a white square of light upon the floor, and Hiram, as he paced up and down, up and down, walked directly through it, his gaunt figure starting out at every turn into sudden brightness as he entered the straight line of misty light. The clock in the kitchen whirred and rang out the hour of twelve, and Hiram stopped in his walk to count the strokes. The last vibration died away into silence, and still he stood motionless, now listening with a new and sudden intentness, for, even as the clock rang the last stroke, he heard soft, heavy footsteps, moving slowly and cautiously along the pathway before the house and directly below the open window. A few seconds more and he heard the creaking of rusty hinges. The mysterious visitor had entered the mill. Hiram crept softly to the window and looked out. The moon shone full on the dusty, shingled face of the old mill, not thirty steps away, and he saw that the door was standing wide open. A second or two of stillness followed, and then, as he still stood looking intently, he saw the figure of a man suddenly appear, sharp and vivid, from the gaping blackness of the open doorway. Hiram could see his face as clear as day. It was Levi West, and he carried an empty meal bag over his arm. Levi West stood looking from right to left for a second or two, and then he took off his hat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Then he softly closed the door behind him and left the mill as he had come, and with the same cautious step. Hiram looked down upon him as he passed close to the house and almost directly beneath. He could have touched him with his hand. Fifty or sixty yards from the house Levi stopped and a second figure arose from the black shadow in the angle of the worm fence and joined him. They stood for a while talking together, Levi pointing now and then toward the mill. Then the two turned, and, climbing over the fence, cut across an open field and through the tall, shaggy grass toward the southeast. Hiram straightened himself and drew a deep breath, and the moon, shining full upon his face, snowed it twisted, convulsed, as it had been when he had fronted his stepbrother seven months before in the kitchen. Great beads of sweat stood on his brow and he wiped them away with his sleeve. Then, coatless, hatless as he was, he swung himself out of the window, dropped upon the grass, and, without an instant of hesitation, strode off down the road in the direction that Levi West had taken. As he climbed the fence where the two men had climbed it he could see them in the pallid light, far away across the level, scrubby meadow land, walking toward a narrow strip of pine woods. A little later they entered the sharp-cut shadows beneath the trees and were swallowed in the darkness. With fixed eyes and close-shut lips, as doggedly, as inexorably as though he were a Nemesis hunting his enemy down, Hiram followed their footsteps across the stretch of moonlit open. Then, by and by, he also was in the shadow of the pines. Here, not a sound broke the midnight hush. His feet made no noise upon the resinous softness of the ground below. In that dead, pulseless silence he could distinctly hear the distant voices of Levi and his companion, sounding loud and resonant in the hollow of the woods. Beyond the woods was a cornfield, and presently he heard the rattling of the harsh leaves as the two plunged into the tasseled jungle. Here, as in the woods, he followed them, step by step, guided by the noise of their progress through the canes. Beyond the cornfield ran a road that, skirting to the south of Lewes, led across a wooden bridge to the wide salt marshes that stretched between the town and the distant sand hills. Coming out upon this road Hiram found that he had gained upon those he followed, and that they now were not fifty paces away, and he could see that Levi's companion carried over his shoulder what looked like a bundle of tools. He waited for a little while to let them gain their distance and for the second time wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve; then, without ever once letting his eyes leave them, he climbed the fence to the roadway. For a couple of miles or more he followed the two along the white, level highway, past silent, sleeping houses, past barns, sheds, and haystacks, looming big in the moonlight, past fields, and woods, and clearings, past the dark and silent skirts of the town, and so, at last, out upon the wide, misty salt marshes, which seemed to stretch away interminably through the pallid light, yet were bounded in the far distance by the long, white line of sand hills. Across the level salt marshes he followed them, through the rank sedge and past the glassy pools in which his own inverted image stalked beneath as he stalked above; on and on, until at last they had reached a belt of scrub pines, gnarled and gray, that fringed the foot of the white sand hills. Here Hiram kept within the black network of shadow. The two whom he followed walked more in the open, with their shadows, as black as ink, walking along in the sand beside them, and now, in the dead, breathless stillness, might be heard, dull and heavy, the distant thumping, pounding roar of the Atlantic surf, beating on the beach at the other side of the sand hills, half a mile away. At last the two rounded the southern end of the white bluff, and when Hiram, following, rounded it also, they were no longer to be seen. Before him the sand hill rose, smooth and steep, cutting in a sharp ridge against the sky. Up this steep hill trailed the footsteps of those he followed, disappearing over the crest. Beyond the ridge lay a round, bowl-like hollow, perhaps fifty feet across and eighteen or twenty feet deep, scooped out by the eddying of the winds into an almost perfect circle. Hiram, slowly, cautiously, stealthily, following their trailing line of footmarks, mounted to the top of the hillock and peered down into the bowl beneath. The two men were sitting upon the sand, not far from the tall, skeleton-like shaft of a dead pine tree that rose, stark and gray, from the sand in which it may once have been buried, centuries ago. XII Levi had taken off his coat and waistcoat and was fanning himself with his hat. He was sitting upon the bag he had brought from the mill and which he had spread out upon the sand. His companion sat facing him. The moon shone full upon him and Hiram knew him instantly--he was the same burly, foreign-looking ruffian who had come with the little man to the mill that night to see Levi. He also had his hat off and was wiping his forehead and face with a red handkerchief. Beside him lay the bundle of tools he had brought--a couple of shovels, a piece of rope, and a long, sharp iron rod. The two men were talking together, but Hiram could not understand what they said, for they spoke in the same foreign language that they had before used. But he could see his stepbrother point with his finger, now to the dead tree and now to the steep, white face of the opposite side of the bowl-like hollow. At last, having apparently rested themselves, the conference, if conference it was, came to an end, and Levi led the way, the other following, to the dead pine tree. Here he stopped and began searching, as though for some mark; then, having found that which he looked for, he drew a tapeline and a large brass pocket compass from his pocket. He gave one end of the tape line to his companion, holding the other with his thumb pressed upon a particular part of the tree. Taking his bearings by the compass, he gave now and then some orders to the other, who moved a little to the left or the right as he bade. At last he gave a word of command, and, thereupon, his companion drew a wooden peg from his pocket and thrust it into the sand. From this peg as a base they again measured, taking bearings by the compass, and again drove a peg. For a third time they repeated their measurements and then, at last, seemed to have reached the point which they aimed for. Here Levi marked a cross with his heel upon the sand. His companion brought him the pointed iron rod which lay beside the shovels, and then stood watching as Levi thrust it deep into the sand, again and again, as though sounding for some object below. It was some while before he found that for which he was seeking, but at last the rod struck with a jar upon some hard object below. After making sure of success by one or two additional taps with the rod, Levi left it remaining where it stood, brushing the sand from his hands. "Now fetch the shovels, Pedro," said he, speaking for the first time in English. The two men were busy for a long while, shoveling away the sand. The object for which they were seeking lay buried some six feet deep, and the work was heavy and laborious, the shifting sand sliding back, again and again, into the hole. But at last the blade of one of the shovels struck upon some hard substance and Levi stooped and brushed away the sand with the palm of his hand. Levi's companion climbed out of the hole which they had dug and tossed the rope which he had brought with the shovels down to the other. Levi made it fast to some object below and then himself mounted to the level of the sand above. Pulling together, the two drew up from the hole a heavy iron-bound box, nearly three feet long and a foot wide and deep. Levi's companion stooped and began untying the rope which had been lashed to a ring in the lid. What next happened happened suddenly, swiftly, terribly. Levi drew back a single step, and shot one quick, keen look to right and to left. He passed his hand rapidly behind his back, and the next moment Hiram saw the moonlight gleam upon the long, sharp, keen blade of a knife. Levi raised his arm. Then, just as the other arose from bending over the chest, he struck, and struck again, two swift, powerful blows. Hiram saw the blade drive, clean and sharp, into the back, and heard the hilt strike with a dull thud against the ribs--once, twice. The burly, black-bearded wretch gave a shrill, terrible cry and fell staggering back. Then, in an instant, with another cry, he was up and clutched Levi with a clutch of despair by the throat and by the arm. Then followed a struggle, short, terrible, silent. Not a sound was heard but the deep, panting breath and the scuffling of feet in the sand, upon which there now poured and dabbled a dark-purple stream. But it was a one-sided struggle and lasted only for a second or two. Levi wrenched his arm loose from the wounded man's grasp, tearing his shirt sleeve from the wrist to the shoulder as he did so. Again and again the cruel knife was lifted, and again and again it fell, now no longer bright, but stained with red. Then, suddenly, all was over. Levi's companion dropped to the sand without a sound, like a bundle of rags. For a moment he lay limp and inert; then one shuddering spasm passed over him and he lay silent and still, with his face half buried in the sand. Levi, with the knife still gripped tight in his hand, stood leaning over his victim, looking down upon his body. His shirt and hand, and even his naked arm, were stained and blotched with blood. The moon lit up his face and it was the face of a devil from hell. At last he gave himself a shake, stooped and wiped his knife and hand and arm upon the loose petticoat breeches of the dead man. He thrust his knife back into its sheath, drew a key from his pocket and unlocked the chest. In the moonlight Hiram could see that it was filled mostly with paper and leather bags, full, apparently of money. All through this awful struggle and its awful ending Hiram lay, dumb and motionless, upon the crest of the sand hill, looking with a horrid fascination upon the death struggle in the pit below. Now Hiram arose. The sand slid whispering down from the crest as he did so, but Levi was too intent in turning over the contents of the chest to notice the slight sound. Hiram's face was ghastly pale and drawn. For one moment he opened his lips as though to speak, but no word came. So, white, silent, he stood for a few seconds, rather like a statue than a living man, then, suddenly, his eyes fell upon the bag, which Levi had brought with him, no doubt, to carry back the treasure for which he and his companion were in search, and which still lay spread out on the sand where it had been flung. Then, as though a thought had suddenly flashed upon him, his whole expression changed, his lips closed tightly together as though fearing an involuntary sound might escape, and the haggard look dissolved from his face. Cautiously, slowly, he stepped over the edge of the sand hill and down the slanting face. His coming was as silent as death, for his feet made no noise as he sank ankle-deep in the yielding surface. So, stealthily, step by step, he descended, reached the bag, lifted it silently. Levi, still bending over the chest and searching through the papers within, was not four feet away. Hiram raised the bag in his hands. He must have made some slight rustle as he did so, for suddenly Levi half turned his head. But he was one instant too late. In a flash the bag was over his head--shoulders--arms--body. Then came another struggle, as fierce, as silent, as desperate as that other--and as short. Wiry, tough, and strong as he was, with a lean, sinewy, nervous vigor, fighting desperately for his life as he was, Levi had no chance against the ponderous strength of his stepbrother. In any case, the struggle could not have lasted long; as it was, Levi stumbled backward over the body of his dead mate and fell, with Hiram upon him. Maybe he was stunned by the fall; maybe he felt the hopelessness of resistance, for he lay quite still while Hiram, kneeling upon him, drew the rope from the ring of the chest and, without uttering a word, bound it tightly around both the bag and the captive within, knotting it again and again and drawing it tight. Only once was a word spoken. "If you'll lemme go," said a muffled voice from the bag, "I'll give you five thousand pounds--it's in that there box." Hiram answered never a word, but continued knotting the rope and drawing it tight. XIII The Scorpion sloop-of-war lay in Lewes harbor all that winter and spring, probably upon the slim chance of a return of the pirates. It was about eight o'clock in the morning and Lieutenant Maynard was sitting in Squire Hall's office, fanning himself with his hat and talking in a desultory fashion. Suddenly the dim and distant noise of a great crowd was heard from without, coming nearer and nearer. The Squire and his visitor hurried to the door. The crowd was coming down the street shouting, jostling, struggling, some on the footway, some in the roadway. Heads were at the doors and windows, looking down upon them. Nearer they came, and nearer; then at last they could see that the press surrounded and accompanied one man. It was Hiram White, hatless, coatless, the sweat running down his face in streams, but stolid and silent as ever. Over his shoulder he carried a bag, tied round and round with a rope. It was not until the crowd and the man it surrounded had come quite near that the Squire and the lieutenant saw that a pair of legs in gray-yarn stockings hung from the bag. It was a man he was carrying. Hiram had lugged his burden five miles that morning without help and with scarcely a rest on the way. He came directly toward the Squire's office and, still sun rounded and hustled by the crowd, up the steep steps to the office within. He flung his burden heavily upon the floor without a word and wiped his streaming forehead. The Squire stood with his knuckles on his desk, staring first at Hiram and then at the strange burden he had brought. A sudden hush fell upon all, though the voices of those without sounded as loud and turbulent as ever. "What is it, Hiram?" said Squire Hall at last. Then for the first time Hiram spoke, panting thickly. "It's a bloody murderer," said he, pointing a quivering finger at the motionless figure. "Here, some of you!" called out the Squire. "Come! Untie this man! Who is he?" A dozen willing fingers quickly unknotted the rope and the bag was slipped from the head and body. Hair and face and eyebrows and clothes were powdered with meal, but, in spite of all and through all the innocent whiteness, dark spots and blotches and smears of blood showed upon head and arm and shirt. Levi raised himself upon his elbow and looked scowlingly around at the amazed, wonderstruck faces surrounding him. "Why, it's Levi West!" croaked the Squire, at last finding his voice. Then, suddenly, Lieutenant Maynard pushed forward, before the others crowded around the figure on the floor, and, clutching Levi by the hair, dragged his head backward so as to better see his face. "Levi West!" said he in a loud voice. "Is this the Levi West you've been telling me of? Look at that scar and the mark on his cheek! THIS IS BLUESKIN HIMSELF." XIV In the chest which Blueskin had dug up out of the sand were found not only the goldsmiths' bills taken from the packet, but also many other valuables belonging to the officers and the passengers of the unfortunate ship. The New York agents offered Hiram a handsome reward for his efforts in recovering the lost bills, but Hiram declined it, positively and finally. "All I want," said he, in his usual dull, stolid fashion, "is to have folks know I'm honest." Nevertheless, though he did not accept what the agents of the packet offered, fate took the matter into its own hands and rewarded him not unsubstantially. Blueskin was taken to England in the Scorpion. But he never came to trial. While in Newgate he hanged himself to the cell window with his own stockings. The news of his end was brought to Lewes in the early autumn and Squire Hall took immediate measures to have the five hundred pounds of his father's legacy duly transferred to Hiram. In November Hiram married the pirate's widow. Chapter VII. CAPTAIN SCARFIELD PREFACE The author of this narrative cannot recall that, in any history of the famous pirates, he has ever read a detailed and sufficient account of the life and death of Capt. John Scarfield. Doubtless some data concerning his death and the destruction of his schooner might be gathered from the report of Lieutenant Mainwaring, now filed in the archives of the Navy Department, out beyond such bald and bloodless narrative the author knows of nothing, unless it be the little chap-book history published by Isaiah Thomas in Newburyport about the year 1821-22, entitled, "A True History of the Life and Death of Captain Jack Scarfield." This lack of particularity in the history of one so notable in his profession it is the design of the present narrative in a measure to supply, and, if the author has seen fit to cast it in the form of a fictional story, it is only that it may make more easy reading for those who see fit to follow the tale from this to its conclusion. I ELEAZER COOPER, or Captain Cooper, as was his better-known title in Philadelphia, was a prominent member of the Society of Friends. He was an overseer of the meeting and an occasional speaker upon particular occasions. When at home from one of his many voyages he never failed to occupy his seat in the meeting both on First Day and Fifth Day, and he was regarded by his fellow townsmen as a model of business integrity and of domestic responsibility. More incidental to this history, however, it is to be narrated that Captain Cooper was one of those trading skippers who carried their own merchandise in their own vessels which they sailed themselves, and on whose decks they did their own bartering. His vessel was a swift, large schooner, the Eliza Cooper, of Philadelphia, named for his wife. His cruising grounds were the West India Islands, and his merchandise was flour and corn meal ground at the Brandywine Mills at Wilmington, Delaware. During the War of 1812 he had earned, as was very well known, an extraordinary fortune in this trading; for flour and corn meal sold at fabulous prices in the French, Spanish, Dutch, and Danish islands, cut off, as they were, from the rest of the world by the British blockade. The running of this blockade was one of the most hazardous maritime ventures possible, but Captain Cooper had met with such unvaried success, and had sold his merchandise at such incredible profit that, at the end of the war, he found himself to have become one of the wealthiest merchants of his native city. It was known at one time that his balance in the Mechanics' Bank was greater than that of any other individual depositor upon the books, and it was told of him that he had once deposited in the bank a chest of foreign silver coin, the exchanged value of which, when translated into American currency, was upward of forty-two thousand dollars--a prodigious sum of money in those days. In person, Captain Cooper was tall and angular of frame. His face was thin and severe, wearing continually an unsmiling, mask-like expression of continent and unruffled sobriety. His manner was dry and taciturn, and his conduct and life were measured to the most absolute accord with the teachings of his religious belief. He lived in an old-fashioned house on Front Street below Spruce--as pleasant, cheerful a house as ever a trading captain could return to. At the back of the house a lawn sloped steeply down toward the river. To the south stood the wharf and storehouses; to the north an orchard and kitchen garden bloomed with abundant verdure. Two large chestnut trees sheltered the porch and the little space of lawn, and when you sat under them in the shade you looked down the slope between two rows of box bushes directly across the shining river to the Jersey shore. At the time of our story--that is, about the year 1820--this property had increased very greatly in value, but it was the old home of the Coopers, as Eleazer Cooper was entirely rich enough to indulge his fancy in such matters. Accordingly, as he chose to live in the same house where his father and his grandfather had dwelt before him, he peremptorily, if quietly, refused all offers looking toward the purchase of the lot of ground--though it was now worth five or six times its former value. As was said, it was a cheerful, pleasant home, impressing you when you entered it with the feeling of spotless and all-pervading cleanliness--a cleanliness that greeted you in the shining brass door-knocker; that entertained you in the sitting room with its stiff, leather-covered furniture, the brass-headed tacks whereof sparkled like so many stars--a cleanliness that bade you farewell in the spotless stretch of sand-sprinkled hallway, the wooden floor of which was worn into knobs around the nail heads by the countless scourings and scrubbings to which it had been subjected and which left behind them an all-pervading faint, fragrant odor of soap and warm water. Eleazer Cooper and his wife were childless, but one inmate made the great, silent, shady house bright with life. Lucinda Fairbanks, a niece of Captain Cooper's by his only sister, was a handsome, sprightly girl of eighteen or twenty, and a great favorite in the Quaker society of the city. It remains only to introduce the final and, perhaps, the most important actor of the narrative Lieut. James Mainwaring. During the past twelve months or so he had been a frequent visitor at the Cooper house. At this time he was a broad-shouldered, red-cheeked, stalwart fellow of twenty-six or twenty-eight. He was a great social favorite, and possessed the added romantic interest of having been aboard the Constitution when she fought the Guerriere, and of having, with his own hands, touched the match that fired the first gun of that great battle. Mainwaring's mother and Eliza Cooper had always been intimate friends, and the coming and going of the young man during his leave of absence were looked upon in the house as quite a matter of course. Half a dozen times a week he would drop in to execute some little commission for the ladies, or, if Captain Cooper was at home, to smoke a pipe of tobacco with him, to sip a dram of his famous old Jamaica rum, or to play a rubber of checkers of an evening. It is not likely that either of the older people was the least aware of the real cause of his visits; still less did they suspect that any passages of sentiment had passed between the young people. The truth was that Mainwaring and the young lady were very deeply in love. It was a love that they were obliged to keep a profound secret, for not only had Eleazer Cooper held the strictest sort of testimony against the late war--a testimony so rigorous as to render it altogether unlikely that one of so military a profession as Mainwaring practiced could hope for his consent to a suit for marriage, but Lucinda could not have married one not a member of the Society of Friends without losing her own birthright membership therein. She herself might not attach much weight to such a loss of membership in the Society, but her fear of, and her respect for, her uncle led her to walk very closely in her path of duty in this respect. Accordingly she and Mainwaring met as they could--clandestinely--and the stolen moments were very sweet. With equal secrecy Lucinda had, at the request of her lover, sat for a miniature portrait to Mrs. Gregory, which miniature, set in a gold medallion, Mainwaring, with a mild, sentimental pleasure, wore hung around his neck and beneath his shirt frill next his heart. In the month of April of the year 1820 Mainwaring received orders to report at Washington. During the preceding autumn the West India pirates, and notably Capt. Jack Scarfield, had been more than usually active, and the loss of the packet Marblehead (which, sailing from Charleston, South Carolina, was never heard of more) was attributed to them. Two other coasting vessels off the coast of Georgia had been looted and burned by Scarfield, and the government had at last aroused itself to the necessity of active measures for repressing these pests of the West India waters. Mainwaring received orders to take command of the Yankee, a swift, light-draught, heavily armed brig of war, and to cruise about the Bahama Islands and to capture and destroy all the pirates' vessels he could there discover. On his way from Washington to New York, where the Yankee was then waiting orders, Mainwaring stopped in Philadelphia to bid good-by to his many friends in that city. He called at the old Cooper house. It was on a Sunday afternoon. The spring was early and the weather extremely pleasant that day, being filled with a warmth almost as of summer. The apple trees were already in full bloom and filled all the air with their fragrance. Everywhere there seemed to be the pervading hum of bees, and the drowsy, tepid sunshine was very delightful. At that time Eleazer was just home from an unusually successful voyage to Antigua. Mainwaring found the family sitting under one of the still leafless chestnut trees, Captain Cooper smoking his long clay pipe and lazily perusing a copy of the National Gazette. Eleazer listened with a great deal of interest to what Mainwaring had to say of his proposed cruise. He himself knew a great deal about the pirates, and, singularly unbending from his normal, stiff taciturnity, he began telling of what he knew, particularly of Captain Scarfield--in whom he appeared to take an extraordinary interest. Vastly to Mainwaring's surprise, the old Quaker assumed the position of a defendant of the pirates, protesting that the wickedness of the accused was enormously exaggerated. He declared that he knew some of the freebooters very well and that at the most they were poor, misdirected wretches who had, by easy gradation, slid into their present evil ways, from having been tempted by the government authorities to enter into privateering in the days of the late war. He conceded that Captain Scarfield had done many cruel and wicked deeds, but he averred that he had also performed many kind and benevolent actions. The world made no note of these latter, but took care only to condemn the evil that had been done. He acknowledged that it was true that the pirate had allowed his crew to cast lots for the wife and the daughter of the skipper of the Northern Rose, but there were none of his accusers who told how, at the risk of his own life and the lives of all his crew, he had given succor to the schooner Halifax, found adrift with all hands down with yellow fever. There was no defender of his actions to tell how he and his crew of pirates had sailed the pest-stricken vessel almost into the rescuing waters of Kingston harbor. Eleazer confessed that he could not deny that when Scarfield had tied the skipper of the Baltimore Belle naked to the foremast of his own brig he had permitted his crew of cutthroats (who were drunk at the time) to throw bottles at the helpless captive, who died that night of the wounds he had received. For this he was doubtless very justly condemned, but who was there to praise him when he had, at the risk of his life and in the face of the authorities, carried a cargo of provisions which he himself had purchased at Tampa Bay to the Island of Bella Vista after the great hurricane of 1818? In this notable adventure he had barely escaped, after a two days' chase, the British frigate Ceres, whose captain, had a capture been effected, would instantly have hung the unfortunate man to the yardarm in spite of the beneficent mission he was in the act of conducting. In all this Eleazer had the air of conducting the case for the defendant. As he talked he became more and more animated and voluble. The light went out in his tobacco pipe, and a hectic spot appeared in either thin and sallow cheek. Mainwaring sat wondering to hear the severely peaceful Quaker preacher defending so notoriously bloody and cruel a cutthroat pirate as Capt. Jack Scarfield. The warm and innocent surroundings, the old brick house looking down upon them, the odor of apple blossoms and the hum of bees seemed to make it all the more incongruous. And still the elderly Quaker skipper talked on and on with hardly an interruption, till the warm sun slanted to the west and the day began to decline. That evening Mainwaring stayed to tea and when he parted from Lucinda Fairbanks it was after nightfall, with a clear, round moon shining in the milky sky and a radiance pallid and unreal enveloping the old house, the blooming apple trees, the sloping lawn and the shining river beyond. He implored his sweetheart to let him tell her uncle and aunt of their acknowledged love and to ask the old man's consent to it, but she would not permit him to do so. They were so happy as they were. Who knew but what her uncle might forbid their fondness? Would he not wait a little longer? Maybe it would all come right after a while. She was so fond, so tender, so tearful at the nearness of their parting that he had not the heart to insist. At the same time it was with a feeling almost of despair that he realized that he must now be gone--maybe for the space of two years--without in all that time possessing the right to call her his before the world. When he bade farewell to the older people it was with a choking feeling of bitter disappointment. He yet felt the pressure of her cheek against his shoulder, the touch of soft and velvet lips to his own. But what were such clandestine endearments compared to what might, perchance, be his--the right of calling her his own when he was far away and upon the distant sea? And, besides, he felt like a coward who had shirked his duty. But he was very much in love. The next morning appeared in a drizzle of rain that followed the beautiful warmth of the day before. He had the coach all to himself, and in the damp and leathery solitude he drew out the little oval picture from beneath his shirt frill and looked long and fixedly with a fond and foolish joy at the innocent face, the blue eyes, the red, smiling lips depicted upon the satinlike, ivory surface. II For the better part of five months Mainwaring cruised about in the waters surrounding the Bahama Islands. In that time he ran to earth and dispersed a dozen nests of pirates. He destroyed no less than fifteen piratical crafts of all sizes, from a large half-decked whaleboat to a three-hundred-ton barkentine. The name of the Yankee became a terror to every sea wolf in the western tropics, and the waters of the Bahama Islands became swept almost clean of the bloody wretches who had so lately infested it. But the one freebooter of all others whom he sought--Capt. Jack Scarfield--seemed to evade him like a shadow, to slip through his fingers like magic. Twice he came almost within touch of the famous marauder, both times in the ominous wrecks that the pirate captain had left behind him. The first of these was the water-logged remains of a burned and still smoking wreck that he found adrift in the great Bahama channel. It was the Water Witch, of Salem, but he did not learn her tragic story until, two weeks later, he discovered a part of her crew at Port Maria, on the north coast of Jamaica. It was, indeed, a dreadful story to which he listened. The castaways said that they of all the vessel's crew had been spared so that they might tell the commander of the Yankee, should they meet him, that he might keep what he found, with Captain Scarfield's compliments, who served it up to him hot cooked. Three weeks later he rescued what remained of the crew of the shattered, bloody hulk of the Baltimore Belle, eight of whose crew, headed by the captain, had been tied hand and foot and heaved overboard. Again, there was a message from Captain Scarfield to the commander of the Yankee that he might season what he found to suit his own taste. Mainwaring was of a sanguine disposition, with fiery temper. He swore, with the utmost vehemence, that either he or John Scarfield would have to leave the earth. He had little suspicion of how soon was to befall the ominous realization of his angry prophecy. At that time one of the chief rendezvous of the pirates was the little island of San Jose, one of the southernmost of the Bahama group. Here, in the days before the coming of the Yankee, they were wont to put in to careen and clean their vessels and to take in a fresh supply of provisions, gunpowder, and rum, preparatory to renewing their attacks upon the peaceful commerce circulating up and down outside the islands, or through the wide stretches of the Bahama channel. Mainwaring had made several descents upon this nest of freebooters. He had already made two notable captures, and it was here he hoped eventually to capture Captain Scarfield himself. A brief description of this one-time notorious rendezvous of freebooters might not be out of place. It consisted of a little settlement of those wattled and mud-smeared houses such as you find through the West Indies. There were only three houses of a more pretentious sort, built of wood. One of these was a storehouse, another was a rum shop, and a third a house in which dwelt a mulatto woman, who was reputed to be a sort of left-handed wife of Captain Scarfield's. The population was almost entirely black and brown. One or two Jews and a half dozen Yankee traders, of hardly dubious honesty, comprised the entire white population. The rest consisted of a mongrel accumulation of negroes and mulattoes and half-caste Spaniards, and of a multitude of black or yellow women and children. The settlement stood in a bight of the beach forming a small harbor and affording a fair anchorage for small vessels, excepting it were against the beating of a southeasterly gale. The houses, or cabins, were surrounded by clusters of coco palms and growths of bananas, and a long curve of white beach, sheltered from the large Atlantic breakers that burst and exploded upon an outer bar, was drawn like a necklace around the semi-circle of emerald-green water. Such was the famous pirates' settlement of San Jose--a paradise of nature and a hell of human depravity and wickedness--and it was to this spot that Mainwaring paid another visit a few days after rescuing the crew of the Baltimore Belle from her shattered and sinking wreck. As the little bay with its fringe of palms and its cluster of wattle huts opened up to view, Mainwaring discovered a vessel lying at anchor in the little harbor. It was a large and well-rigged schooner of two hundred and fifty or three hundred tons burden. As the Yankee rounded to under the stern of the stranger and dropped anchor in such a position as to bring her broadside battery to bear should the occasion require, Mainwaring set his glass to his eye to read the name he could distinguish beneath the overhang of her stern. It is impossible to describe his infinite surprise when, the white lettering starting out in the circle of the glass, he read, The Eliza Cooper, of Philadelphia. He could not believe the evidence of his senses. Certainly this sink of iniquity was the last place in the world he would have expected to have fallen in with Eleazer Cooper. He ordered out the gig and had himself immediately rowed over to the schooner. Whatever lingering doubts he might have entertained as to the identity of the vessel were quickly dispelled when he beheld Captain Cooper himself standing at the gangway to meet him. The impassive face of the friend showed neither surprise nor confusion at what must have been to him a most unexpected encounter. But when he stepped upon the deck of the Eliza Cooper and looked about him, Mainwaring could hardly believe the evidence of his senses at the transformation that he beheld. Upon the main deck were eight twelve-pound carronade neatly covered with tarpaulin; in the bow a Long Tom, also snugly stowed away and covered, directed a veiled and muzzled snout out over the bowsprit. It was entirely impossible for Mainwaring to conceal his astonishment at so unexpected a sight, and whether or not his own thoughts lent color to his imagination, it seemed to him that Eleazer Cooper concealed under the immobility of his countenance no small degree of confusion. After Captain Cooper had led the way into the cabin and he and the younger man were seated over a pipe of tobacco and the invariable bottle of fine old Jamaica rum, Mainwaring made no attempt to refrain from questioning him as to the reason for this singular and ominous transformation. "I am a man of peace, James Mainwaring," Eleazer replied, "but there are men of blood in these waters, and an appearance of great strength is of use to protect the innocent from the wicked. If I remained in appearance the peaceful trader I really am, how long does thee suppose I could remain unassailed in this place?" It occurred to Mainwaring that the powerful armament he had beheld was rather extreme to be used merely as a preventive. He smoked for a while in silence and then he suddenly asked the other point-blank whether, if it came to blows with such a one as Captain Scarfield, would he make a fight of it? The Quaker trading captain regarded him for a while in silence. His look, it seemed to Mainwaring, appeared to be dubitative as to how far he dared to be frank. "Friend James," he said at last, "I may as well acknowledge that my officers and crew are somewhat worldly. Of a truth they do not hold the same testimony as I. I am inclined to think that if it came to the point of a broil with those men of iniquity, my individual voice cast for peace would not be sufficient to keep my crew from meeting violence with violence. As for myself, thee knows who I am and what is my testimony in these matters." Mainwaring made no comment as to the extremely questionable manner in which the Quaker proposed to beat the devil about the stump. Presently he asked his second question: "And might I inquire," he said, "what you are doing here and why you find it necessary to come at all into such a wicked, dangerous place as this?" "Indeed, I knew thee would ask that question of me," said the Friend, "and I will be entirely frank with thee. These men of blood are, after all, but human beings, and as human beings they need food. I have at present upon this vessel upward of two hundred and fifty barrels of flour which will bring a higher price here than anywhere else in the West Indies. To be entirely frank with thee, I will tell thee that I was engaged in making a bargain for the sale of the greater part of my merchandise when the news of thy approach drove away my best customer." Mainwaring sat for a while in smoking silence. What the other had told him explained many things he had not before understood. It explained why Captain Cooper got almost as much for his flour and corn meal now that peace had been declared as he had obtained when the war and the blockade were in full swing. It explained why he had been so strong a defender of Captain Scarfield and the pirates that afternoon in the garden. Meantime, what was to be done? Eleazer confessed openly that he dealt with the pirates. What now was his--Mainwaring's--duty in the case? Was the cargo of the Eliza Cooper contraband and subject to confiscation? And then another question framed itself in his mind: Who was this customer whom his approach had driven away? As though he had formulated the inquiry into speech the other began directly to speak of it. "I know," he said, "that in a moment thee will ask me who was this customer of whom I have just now spoken. I have no desire to conceal his name from thee. It was the man who is known as Captain Jack or Captain John Scarfield." Mainwaring fairly started from his seat. "The devil you say!" he cried. "And how long has it been," he asked, "since he left you?" The Quaker skipper carefully refilled his pipe, which he had by now smoked out. "I would judge," he said, "that it is a matter of four or five hours since news was brought overland by means of swift runners of thy approach. Immediately the man of wickedness disappeared." Here Eleazer set the bowl of his pipe to the candle flame and began puffing out voluminous clouds of smoke. "I would have thee understand, James Mainwaring," he resumed, "that I am no friend of this wicked and sinful man. His safety is nothing to me. It is only a question of buying upon his part and of selling upon mine. If it is any satisfaction to thee I will heartily promise to bring thee news if I hear anything of the man of Belial. I may furthermore say that I think it is likely thee will have news more or less directly of him within the space of a day. If this should happen, however, thee will have to do thy own fighting without help from me, for I am no man of combat nor of blood and will take no hand in it either way." It struck Mainwaring that the words contained some meaning that did not appear upon the surface. This significance struck him as so ambiguous that when he went aboard the Yankee he confided as much of his suspicions as he saw fit to his second in command, Lieutenant Underwood. As night descended he had a double watch set and had everything prepared to repel any attack or surprise that might be attempted. III Nighttime in the tropics descends with a surprising rapidity. At one moment the earth is shining with the brightness of the twilight; the next, as it were, all things are suddenly swallowed into a gulf of darkness. The particular night of which this story treats was not entirely clear; the time of year was about the approach of the rainy season, and the tepid, tropical clouds added obscurity to the darkness of the sky, so that the night fell with even more startling quickness than usual. The blackness was very dense. Now and then a group of drifting stars swam out of a rift in the vapors, but the night was curiously silent and of a velvety darkness. As the obscurity had deepened, Mainwaring had ordered lanthorns to be lighted and slung to the shrouds and to the stays, and the faint yellow of their illumination lighted the level white of the snug little war vessel, gleaming here and there in a starlike spark upon the brass trimmings and causing the rows of cannons to assume curiously gigantic proportions. For some reason Mainwaring was possessed by a strange, uneasy feeling. He walked restlessly up and down the deck for a time, and then, still full of anxieties for he knew not what, went into his cabin to finish writing up his log for the day. He unstrapped his cutlass and laid it upon the table, lighted his pipe at the lanthorn and was about preparing to lay aside his coat when word was brought to him that the captain of the trading schooner was come alongside and had some private information to communicate to him. Mainwaring surmised in an instant that the trader's visit related somehow to news of Captain Scarfield, and as immediately, in the relief of something positive to face, all of his feeling of restlessness vanished like a shadow of mist. He gave orders that Captain Cooper should be immediately shown into the cabin, and in a few moments the tall, angular form of the Quaker skipper appeared in the narrow, lanthorn-lighted space. Mainwaring at once saw that his visitor was strangely agitated and disturbed. He had taken off his hat, and shining beads of perspiration had gathered and stood clustered upon his forehead. He did not reply to Mainwaring's greeting; he did not, indeed, seem to hear it; but he came directly forward to the table and stood leaning with one hand upon the open log book in which the lieutenant had just been writing. Mainwaring had reseated himself at the head of the table, and the tall figure of the skipper stood looking down at him as from a considerable height. "James Mainwaring," he said, "I promised thee to report if I had news of the pirate. Is thee ready now to hear my news?" There was something so strange in his agitation that it began to infect Mainwaring with a feeling somewhat akin to that which appeared to disturb his visitor. "I know not what you mean, sir!" he cried, "by asking if I care to hear your news. At this moment I would rather have news of that scoundrel than to have anything I know of in the world." "Thou would? Thou would?" cried the other, with mounting agitation. "Is thee in such haste to meet him as all that? Very well; very well, then. Suppose I could bring thee face to face with him--what then? Hey? Hey? Face to face with him, James Mainwaring!" The thought instantly flashed into Mainwaring's mind that the pirate had returned to the island; that perhaps at that moment he was somewhere near at hand. "I do not understand you, sir," he cried. "Do you mean to tell me that you know where the villain is? If so, lose no time in informing me, for every instant of delay may mean his chance of again escaping." "No danger of that!" the other declared, vehemently. "No danger of that! I'll tell thee where he is and I'll bring thee to him quick enough!" And as he spoke he thumped his fist against the open log book. In the vehemence of his growing excitement his eyes appeared to shine green in the lanthorn light, and the sweat that had stood in beads upon his forehead was now running in streams down his face. One drop hung like a jewel to the tip of his beaklike nose. He came a step nearer to Mainwaring and bent forward toward him, and there was something so strange and ominous in his bearing that the lieutenant instinctively drew back a little where he sat. "Captain Scarfield sent something to you," said Eleazer, almost in a raucous voice, "something that you will be surprised to see." And the lapse in his speech from the Quaker "thee" to the plural "you" struck Mainwaring as singularly strange. As he was speaking Eleazer was fumbling in a pocket of his long-tailed drab coat, and presently he brought something forth that gleamed in the lanthorn light. The next moment Mainwaring saw leveled directly in his face the round and hollow nozzle of a pistol. There was an instant of dead silence and then, "I am the man you seek!" said Eleazer Cooper, in a tense and breathless voice. The whole thing had happened so instantaneously and unexpectedly that for the moment Mainwaring sat like one petrified. Had a thunderbolt fallen from the silent sky and burst at his feet he could not have been more stunned. He was like one held in the meshes of a horrid nightmare, and he gazed as through a mist of impossibility into the lineaments of the well-known, sober face now transformed as from within into the aspect of a devil. That face, now ashy white, was distorted into a diabolical grin. The teeth glistened in the lamplight. The brows, twisted into a tense and convulsed frown, were drawn down into black shadows, through which the eyes burned a baleful green like the eyes of a wild animal driven to bay. Again he spoke in the same breathless voice. "I am John Scarfield! Look at me, then, if you want to see a pirate!" Again there was a little time of silence, through which Mainwaring heard his watch ticking loudly from where it hung against the bulkhead. Then once more the other began speaking. "You would chase me out of the West Indies, would you? G------ --you! What are you come to now? You are caught in your own trap, and you'll squeal loud enough before you get out of it. Speak a word or make a movement and I'll blow your brains out against the partition behind you! Listen to what I say or you are a dead man. Sing out an order instantly for my mate and my bos'n to come here to the cabin, and be quick about it, for my finger's on the trigger, and it's only a pull to shut your mouth forever." It was astonishing to Mainwaring, in afterward thinking about it all, how quickly his mind began to recover its steadiness after that first astonishing shock. Even as the other was speaking he discovered that his brain was becoming clarified to a wonderful lucidity; his thoughts were becoming rearranged, and with a marvelous activity and an alertness he had never before experienced. He knew that if he moved to escape or uttered any outcry he would be instantly a dead man, for the circle of the pistol barrel was directed full against his forehead and with the steadiness of a rock. If he could but for an instant divert that fixed and deadly attention he might still have a chance for life. With the thought an inspiration burst into his mind and he instantly put it into execution; thought, inspiration, and action, as in a flash, were one. He must make the other turn aside his deadly gaze, and instantly he roared out in a voice that stunned his own ears: "Strike, bos'n! Strike, quick!" Taken by surprise, and thinking, doubtless, that another enemy stood behind him, the pirate swung around like a flash with his pistol leveled against the blank boarding. Equally upon the instant he saw the trick that had been played upon him and in a second flash had turned again. The turn and return had occupied but a moment of time, but that moment, thanks to the readiness of his own invention, had undoubtedly saved Mainwaring's life. As the other turned away his gaze for that brief instant Mainwaring leaped forward and upon him. There was a flashing flame of fire as the pistol was discharged and a deafening detonation that seemed to split his brain. For a moment, with reeling senses, he supposed himself to have been shot, the next he knew he had escaped. With the energy of despair he swung his enemy around and drove him with prodigious violence against the corner of the table. The pirate emitted a grunting cry and then they fell together, Mainwaring upon the top, and the pistol clattered with them to the floor in their fall. Even as he fell, Mainwaring roared in a voice of thunder, "All hands repel boarders!" And then again, "All hands repel boarders!" Whether hurt by the table edge or not, the fallen pirate struggled as though possessed of forty devils, and in a moment or two Mainwaring saw the shine of a long, keen knife that he had drawn from somewhere about his person. The lieutenant caught him by the wrist, but the other's muscles were as though made of steel. They both fought in despairing silence, the one to carry out his frustrated purposes to kill, the other to save his life. Again and again Mainwaring felt that the knife had been thrust against him, piercing once his arm, once his shoulder, and again his neck. He felt the warm blood streaming down his arm and body and looked about him in despair. The pistol lay near upon the deck of the cabin. Still holding the other by the wrist as he could, Mainwaring snatched up the empty weapon and struck once and again at the bald, narrow forehead beneath him. A third blow he delivered with all the force he could command, and then with a violent and convulsive throe the straining muscles beneath him relaxed and grew limp and the fight was won. Through all the struggle he had been aware of the shouts of voices, of trampling of feet and discharge of firearms, and the thought came to him, even through his own danger, that the Yankee was being assaulted by the pirates. As he felt the struggling form beneath him loosen and dissolve into quietude, he leaped up, and snatching his cutlass, which still lay upon the table, rushed out upon the deck, leaving the stricken form lying twitching upon the floor behind him. It was a fortunate thing that he had set double watches and prepared himself for some attack from the pirates, otherwise the Yankee would certainly have been lost. As it was, the surprise was so overwhelming that the pirates, who had been concealed in the large whaleboat that had come alongside, were not only able to gain a foothold upon the deck, but for a time it seemed as though they would drive the crew of the brig below the hatches. But as Mainwaring, streaming with blood, rushed out upon the deck, the pirates became immediately aware that their own captain must have been overpowered, and in an instant their desperate energy began to evaporate. One or two jumped overboard; one, who seemed to be the mate, fell dead from a pistol shot, and then, in the turn of a hand, there was a rush of a retreat and a vision of leaping forms in the dusky light of the lanthorns and a sound of splashing in the water below. The crew of the Yankee continued firing at the phosphorescent wakes of the swimming bodies, but whether with effect it was impossible at the time to tell. IV The pirate captain did not die immediately. He lingered for three or four days, now and then unconscious, now and then semi-conscious, but always deliriously wandering. All the while he thus lay dying, the mulatto woman, with whom he lived in this part of his extraordinary dual existence, nursed and cared for him with such rude attentions as the surroundings afforded. In the wanderings of his mind the same duality of life followed him. Now and then he would appear the calm, sober, self-contained, well-ordered member of a peaceful society that his friends in his faraway home knew him to be; at other times the nether part of his nature would leap up into life like a wild beast, furious and gnashing. At the one time he talked evenly and clearly of peaceful things; at the other time he blasphemed and hooted with fury. Several times Mainwaring, though racked by his own wounds, sat beside the dying man through the silent watches of the tropical nights. Oftentimes upon these occasions as he looked at the thin, lean face babbling and talking so aimlessly, he wondered what it all meant. Could it have been madness--madness in which the separate entities of good and bad each had, in its turn, a perfect and distinct existence? He chose to think that this was the case. Who, within his inner consciousness, does not feel that same ferine, savage man struggling against the stern, adamantine bonds of morality and decorum? Were those bonds burst asunder, as it was with this man, might not the wild beast rush forth, as it had rushed forth in him, to rend and to tear? Such were the questions that Mainwaring asked himself. And how had it all come about? By what easy gradations had the respectable Quaker skipper descended from the decorum of his home life, step by step, into such a gulf of iniquity? Many such thoughts passed through Mainwaring's mind, and he pondered them through the still reaches of the tropical nights while he sat watching the pirate captain struggle out of the world he had so long burdened. At last the poor wretch died, and the earth was well quit of one of its torments. A systematic search was made through the island for the scattered crew, but none was captured. Either there were some secret hiding places upon the island (which was not very likely) or else they had escaped in boats hidden somewhere among the tropical foliage. At any rate they were gone. Nor, search as he would, could Mainwaring find a trace of any of the pirate treasure. After the pirate's death and under close questioning, the weeping mulatto woman so far broke down as to confess in broken English that Captain Scarfield had taken a quantity of silver money aboard his vessel, but either she was mistaken or else the pirates had taken it thence again and had hidden it somewhere else. Nor would the treasure ever have been found but for a most fortuitous accident. Mainwaring had given orders that the Eliza Cooper was to be burned, and a party was detailed to carry the order into execution. At this the cook of the Yankee came petitioning for some of the Wilmington and Brandywine flour to make some plum duff upon the morrow, and Mainwaring granted his request in so far that he ordered one of the men to knock open one of the barrels of flour and to supply the cook's demands. The crew detailed to execute this modest order in connection with the destruction of the pirate vessel had not been gone a quarter of an hour when word came back that the hidden treasure had been found. Mainwaring hurried aboard the Eliza Cooper, and there in the midst of the open flour barrel he beheld a great quantity of silver coin buried in and partly covered by the white meal. A systematic search was now made. One by one the flour barrels were heaved up from below and burst open on the deck and their contents searched, and if nothing but the meal was found it was swept overboard. The breeze was whitened with clouds of flour, and the white meal covered the surface of the ocean for yards around. In all, upward of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars was found concealed beneath the innocent flour and meal. It was no wonder the pirate captain was so successful, when he could upon an instant's notice transform himself from a wolf of the ocean to a peaceful Quaker trader selling flour to the hungry towns and settlements among the scattered islands of the West Indies, and so carrying his bloody treasure safely into his quiet Northern home. In concluding this part of the narrative it may be added that a wide strip of canvas painted black was discovered in the hold of the Eliza Cooper. Upon it, in great white letters, was painted the name, "The Bloodhound." Undoubtedly this was used upon occasions to cover the real and peaceful title of the trading schooner, just as its captain had, in reverse, covered his sanguine and cruel life by a thin sheet of morality and respectability. This is the true story of the death of Capt. Jack Scarfield. The Newburyport chap-book, of which I have already spoken, speaks only of how the pirate disguised himself upon the ocean as a Quaker trader. Nor is it likely that anyone ever identified Eleazer Cooper with the pirate, for only Mainwaring of all the crew of the Yankee was exactly aware of the true identity of Captain Scarfield. All that was ever known to the world was that Eleazer Cooper had been killed in a fight with the pirates. In a little less than a year Mainwaring was married to Lucinda Fairbanks. As to Eleazer Cooper's fortune, which eventually came into the possession of Mainwaring through his wife, it was many times a subject of speculation to the lieutenant how it had been earned. There were times when he felt well assured that a part of it at least was the fruit of piracy, but it was entirely impossible to guess how much more was the result of legitimate trading. For a little time it seemed to Mainwaring that he should give it all up, but this was at once so impracticable and so quixotic that he presently abandoned it, and in time his qualms and misdoubts faded away and he settled himself down to enjoy that which had come to him through his marriage. In time the Mainwarings removed to New York, and ultimately the fortune that the pirate Scarfield had left behind him was used in part to found the great shipping house of Mainwaring & Bigot, whose famous transatlantic packet ships were in their time the admiration of the whole world. 
37116	----	* * * * * Transcriber's Note: This is a faithful reproduction of the original work with the exception of changes listed at the end. Also: Notation: Words in italics are indicated _like this_. But the publisher also wanted to emphasize names in sentences already italicized, so he printed them in the regular font which is indicated here with: _The pirates then went to =Hispaniola=._ Superscripts are indicated like this: S^{ta} Maria. Footnotes are located near the end of the work. * * * * * HISTORY OF THE BUCCANEERS OF AMERICA. By JAMES BURNEY, F.R.S. CAPTAIN IN THE ROYAL NAVY. London: _Printed by Luke Hansard & Sons, near Lincoln's-Inn Fields;_ FOR PAYNE AND FOSS, PALL-MALL. 1816. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. _Considerations on the Rights acquired by the Discovery of Unknown Lands, and on the Claims advanced by the Spaniards._ CHAP. II. _Review of the Dominion of the =Spaniards= in =Hayti= or =Hispaniola=._ Page Hayti, or Hispaniola, the Land on which the Spaniards first settled in America 7 Government of Columbus 9 Dogs made use of against the Indians 10 Massacre of the Natives, and Subjugation of the Island 11 Heavy Tribute imposed 12 City of Nueva Ysabel, or Santo Domingo 14 Beginning of the Repartimientos 16 Government of Bovadilla _ib._ The Natives compelled to work the Mines 17 Nicolas Ovando, Governor _ib._ Working the Mines discontinued 18 The Natives again forced to the Mines 19 Insurrection in Higuey 20 Encomiendas established _ib._ Africans carried to the West Indies 21 Massacre of the People of Xaragua 22 Death of Queen Ysabel 23 Desperate condition of the Natives 24 The Grand Antilles 26 Small Antilles, or Caribbee Islands _ib._ Lucayas, or Bahama Islands _ib._ The Natives of the Lucayas betrayed to the Mines 27 Fate of the Natives of Porto Rico 28 D. Diego Columbus, Governor _ib._ Increase of Cattle in Hayti. Cuba 29 De las Casas and Cardinal Ximenes endeavour to serve the Indians 30 Cacique Henriquez _ib._ Footnotes CHAP. III. _Ships of different European Nations frequent the =West Indies=. Opposition experienced by them from the Spaniards. Hunting of Cattle in =Hispaniola=._ Adventure of an English Ship 32 The French and other Europeans resort to the West Indies 33 Regulation proposed in Hispaniola, for protection against Pirates _ib._ Hunting of Cattle in Hispaniola 34 Matadores _ib._ Guarda Costas 35 Brethren of the Coast 36 CHAP. IV. _Iniquitous Settlement of the Island =Saint Christopher= by the =English= and =French=. =Tortuga= seized by the Hunters. Origin of the name =Buccaneer=. The name =Flibustier=. Customs attributed to the =Buccaneers=._ The English and French settle on Saint Christopher 38 Are driven away by the Spaniards 40 They return 41 Tortuga seized by the Hunters 41 Whence the Name Buccaneer 42 the Name Flibustier 43 Customs attributed to the Buccaneers 45 CHAP. V. _Treaty made by the Spaniards with Don =Henriquez=. Increase of English and French in the =West Indies=. =Tortuga= surprised by the Spaniards. Policy of the English and French Governments with respect to the Buccaneers. =Mansvelt=, his attempt to form an independent Buccaneer Establishment. French West-India Company. =Morgan= succeeds =Mansvelt= as Chief of the Buccaneers._ Cultivation in Tortuga 48 Increase of the English and French Settlements in the West Indies _ib._ Tortuga surprised by the Spaniards 49 Is taken possession of for the Crown of France 51 Policy of the English and French Governments with respect to the Buccaneers 52 The Buccaneers plunder New Segovia 53 The Spaniards retake Tortuga _ib._ With the assistance of the Buccaneers the English take Jamaica 54 The French retake Tortuga _ib._ Pierre le Grand, a French Buccaneer _ib._ Alexandre 55 Montbars, surnamed the Exterminator _ib._ Bartolomeo Portuguez _ib._ L'Olonnois, and Michel le Basque, take Maracaibo and Gibraltar 55 Outrages committed by L'Olonnois _ib._ Mansvelt, a Buccaneer Chief, attempts to form a Buccaneer Establishment 56 Island S^{ta} Katalina, or Providence; since named Old Providence _ib._ Death of Mansvelt 57 French West-India Company _ib._ The French Settlers dispute their authority 58 Morgan succeeds Mansvelt; plunders Puerto del Principe _ib._ Maracaibo again pillaged 59 Morgan takes Porto Bello: his Cruelty _ib._ He plunders Maracaibo and Gibraltar 60 His Contrivances to effect his Retreat 61 CHAP. VI. _Treaty of =America=. Expedition of the Buccaneers against =Panama=. Exquemelin's History of the American Sea Rovers. Misconduct of the European Governors in the =West Indies=._ Treaty between Great Britain and Spain 63 Expedition of the Buccaneers against Panama 64 They take the Island S^{ta}. Katalina 65 Attack of the Castle at the River Chagre _ib._ Their March across the Isthmus 66 The City of Panama taken 67 And burnt 68 The Buccaneers depart from Panama 69 Exquemelin's History of the Buccaneers of America 71 Flibustiers shipwrecked at Porto Rico; and put to death by the Spaniards 73 CHAP. VII. _=Thomas Peche.= Attempt of =La Sound= to cross the =Isthmus of America=. Voyage of =Antonio de Vea= to the =Strait of Magalhanes=. Various Adventures of the Buccaneers, in the =West Indies=, to the year 1679._ Thomas Peche 75 La Sound attempts to cross the Isthmus _ib._ Voyage of Ant. de Vea 76 Massacre of the French in Samana 77 French Fleet wrecked on Aves 77 Granmont _ib._ Darien Indians 79 Porto Bello surprised by the Buccaneers _ib._ CHAP. VIII. _Meeting of Buccaneers at the =Samballas=, and =Golden Island=. Party formed by the English Buccaneers to cross the =Isthmus=. Some Account of the Native Inhabitants of the =Mosquito Shore=._ Golden Island 81 Account of the Mosquito Indians 82 CHAP. IX. _Journey of the Buccaneers across the =Isthmus of America=._ Buccaneers commence their March 91 Fort of S^{ta} Maria taken 95 John Coxon chosen Commander 96 They arrive at the South Sea 97 CHAP. X. _First Buccaneer Expedition in the =South Sea=._ In the Bay of Panama 98 Island Chepillo _ib._ Battle with a small Spanish Armament _ib._ Richard Sawkins 99 Panama, the new City 100 Coxon returns to the West Indies 101 Richard Sawkins chosen Commander _ib._ Taboga; Otoque 102 Attack of Pueblo Nuevo 103 Captain Sawkins is killed _ib._ Imposition practised by Sharp 104 Sharp chosen Commander 105 Some return to the West Indies _ib._ The Anchorage at Quibo _ib._ Island Gorgona 106 Island Plata 107 Adventure of Seven Buccaneers _ib._ Ilo 109 Shoals of Anchovies _ib._ La Serena plundered and burnt _ib._ Attempt of the Spaniards to burn the Ship of the Buccaneers _ib._ Island Juan Fernandez 110 Sharp deposed from the Command 111 Watling elected Commander _ib._ William, a Mosquito Indian, left on the Island Juan Fernandez 112 Island Yqueque; Rio de Camarones 113 They attack Arica _ib._ Are repulsed; Watling killed 114 Sharp again chosen Commander 115 Huasco; Ylo _ib._ The Buccaneers separate 116 Proceedings of Sharp and his Followers _ib._ They enter a Gulf 118 Shergall's Harbour 119 Another Harbour _ib._ The Gulf is named the English Gulf _ib._ Duke of York's Islands 120 A Native killed by the Buccaneers 121 Native of Patagonia carried away _ib._ Passage round Cape Horn 122 Appearance like Land, in 57° 50' S. _ib._ Ice Islands _ib._ Arrive in the West Indies 123 Sharp, and others, tried for Piracy _ib._ CHAP. XI. _Disputes between the French Government and their West-India Colonies. =Morgan= becomes Deputy Governor of =Jamaica=. =La Vera Cruz= surprised by the Flibustiers. Other of their Enterprises._ Prohibitions against Piracy disregarded by the French Buccaneers 125-6 Sir Henry Morgan, Deputy Governor of Jamaica 126 His Severity to the Buccaneers _ib._ Van Horn, Granmont, and De Graaf, go against La Vera Cruz 127 They surprise the Town by Stratagem 127 Story of Granmont and an English Ship 128 Disputes of the French Governors with the Flibustiers of Saint Domingo 130 CHAP. XII. _Circumstances which preceded the Second Irruption of the Buccaneers into the =South Sea=. Buccaneers under =John Cook= sail from =Virginia=; stop at the =Cape de Verde Islands=; at =Sierra Leone=. Origin and History of the Report concerning the supposed Discovery of =Pepys Island=._ Circumstances preceding the Second Irruption of the Buccaneers into the South Sea 132 Buccaneers under John Cook 134 Cape de Verde Islands 135 Ambergris; The Flamingo _ib._ Coast of Guinea 136 Sherborough River 137 John Davis's Islands _ib._ History of the Report of a Discovery named Pepys Island _ib._ Shoals of small red Lobsters 140 Passage round Cape Horne _ib._ CHAP. XIII. _Buccaneers under =John Cook= arrive at =Juan Fernandez=. Account of =William=, a Mosquito Indian, who had lived there three years. They sail to the =Galapagos Islands=; thence to the Coast of =New Spain=. =John Cook= dies. =Edward Davis= chosen Commander._ The Buccaneers under Cook joined by the Nicholas of London, John Eaton 141 At Juan Fernandez 142 William the Mosquito Indian _ib._ Juan Fernandez first stocked with Goats by its Discoverer 143 Appearance of the Andes _ib._ Islands Lobos de la Mar _ib._ At the Galapagos Islands 145 Duke of Norfolk's Island _ib._ Cowley's Chart of the Galapagos 146 King James's Island _ib._ Mistake by the Editor of Dampier _ib._ Concerning Fresh Water and Herbage at the Galapagos _ib._ & 147 Land and Sea Turtle 148 Mammee Tree _ib._ Coast of New Spain; Cape Blanco 149 John Cook, Buccaneer Commander, dies _ib._ Edward Davis chosen Commander _ib._ CHAP. XIV. _=Edward Davis= Commander. On the Coast of =New Spain= and =Peru=. Algatrane, a bituminous earth. =Davis= is joined by other Buccaneers. =Eaton= sails to the =East Indies=. =Guayaquil= attempted. =Rivers of St. Jago=, and =Tomaco=. In the Bay of =Panama=. Arrivals of numerous parties of Buccaneers across the =Isthmus= from the =West Indies=._ Caldera Bay 150 Volcan Viejo 151 Ria-lexa Harbour _ib._ Bay of Amapalla 152 Davis and Eaton part company 154 Tornadoes near the Coast of New Spain 155 Cape San Francisco _ib._ Eaton's Description of Cocos Island _ib._ Point S^{ta} Elena 156 Algatrane, a bituminous Earth _ib._ Rich Ship wrecked on Point S^{ta} Elena 157 Manta; Rocks near it, and Shoal _ib._ Davis is joined by other Buccaneers _ib._ The Cygnet, Captain Swan _ib._ At Isle de la Plata 159 Cape Blanco, near Guayaquil; difficult to weather _ib._ Payta burnt 160 Part of the Peruvian Coast where it never rains _ib._ Lobos de Tierra, and Lobos de la Mar _ib._ Eaton at the Ladrones 161 Nutmeg Island, North of Luconia 163 Davis on the Coast of Peru _ib._ Slave Ships captured _ib._ The Harbour of Guayaquil 164 Island S^{ta} Clara: Shoals near it 164 Cat Fish 165 The Cotton Tree and Cabbage Tree 166 River of St. Jago _ib._ Island Gallo; River Tomaco 167 Island Gorgona _ib._ Pearl Oysters 168 Galera Isle _ib._ The Pearl Islands 169 Arrival of fresh bodies of Buccaneers from the West Indies 170 Grogniet and L'Escuyer _ib._ Townley and his Crew 171 Pisco Wine 172 Port de Pinas; Taboga 173 Chepo 174 CHAP. XV. _=Edward Davis= Commander. Meeting of the Spanish and Buccaneer Fleets in the =Bay of Panama=. They separate without fighting. The Buccaneers sail to the Island =Quibo=. The English and French separate. Expedition against the City of =Leon=. That City and =Ria Lexa= burnt. Farther dispersion of the Buccaneers._ The Lima Fleet arrives at Panama 176 Meeting of the two Fleets 177 They separate 180 Keys of Quibo: The Island Quibo 181 Rock near the Anchorage _ib._ Serpents; The Serpent Berry 182 Disagreements among the Buccaneers _ib._ The French separate from the English 183 Knight, a Buccaneer, joins Davis _ib._ Expedition against the City of Leon 184 Leon burnt by the Buccaneers 186 Town of Ria Lexa burnt 187 Farther Separation of the Buccaneers _ib._ CHAP. XVI. _Buccaneers under =Edward Davis=. At =Amapalla= Bay; =Cocos Island=; The =Galapagos= Islands; Coast of =Peru=. Peruvian Wine. =Knight= quits the =South Sea=. Bezoar Stones. Marine Productions on Mountains. =Vermejo=. =Davis= joins the French Buccaneers at =Guayaquil=. Long Sea Engagement._ Amapalla Bay 188 A hot River _ib._ Cocos Island 189 Effect of Excess in drinking the Milk of the Cocoa-nut 190 At the Galapagos Islands _ib._ On the Coast of Peru 191 Peruvian Wine like Madeira _ib._ At Juan Fernandez 192 Knight quits the South Sea _ib._ Davis returns to the Coast of Peru _ib._ Bezoar Stones 193 Marine Productions found on Mountains; Vermejo _ib._ Davis joins the French Buccaneers at Guayaquil 195 They meet Spanish Ships of War 196 A Sea Engagement of seven days _ib._ At the Island de la Plata 198 Division of Plunder 199 They separate, to return home by different Routes 200 CHAP. XVII. _=Edward Davis=; his Third visit to the =Galapagos=. One of those Islands, named =Santa Maria de l'Aguada= by the Spaniards, a Careening Place of the Buccaneers. Sailing thence Southward they discover Land. Question, whether Edward Davis's Discovery is the Land which was afterwards named =Easter Island=? =Davis= and his Crew arrive in the =West Indies=._ Davis sails to the Galapagos Islands 201 King James's Island 202 The Island S^{ta} Maria de l'Aguada 203 Davis sails from the Galapagos to the Southward 205 Island discovered by Edward Davis 206 Question whether Edward Davis's Land and Easter Island are the same Land 207 At the Island Juan Fernandez 210 Davis sails to the West Indies 211 CHAP. XVIII. _Adventures of =Swan= and =Townley= on the Coast of =New Spain=, until their Separation._ Bad Water, and unhealthiness of Ria Lexa 213 Island Tangola 214 Guatulco; El Buffadore 215 Vinello, or Vanilla, a Plant 216 Island Sacrificio _ib._ Port de Angeles _ib._ Adventure in a Lagune 217 Alcatraz Rock; White Cliffs 218 River to the West of the Cliffs _ib._ Snook, a Fish _ib._ High Land of Acapulco 219 Sandy Beach, West of Acapulco _ib._ Hill of Petaplan 220 Chequetan _ib._ Estapa _ib._ Hill of Thelupan 221 Volcano and Valley of Colima _ib._ Salagua 222 Report of a great City named Oarrah _ib._ Coronada Hills 223 Cape Corrientes _ib._ Keys or Islands of Chametly form a convenient Port _ib._ Bay and Valley de Vanderas 225 Swan and Townley part company 226 CHAP. XIX. _The =Cygnet= and her Crew on the Coast of =Nueva Galicia=, and at the =Tres Marias Islands=._ Coast of Nueva Galicia 227 Point Ponteque _ib._ White Rock, 21° 51' N 228 Chametlan Isles, 23° 11' N _ib._ The Penguin Fruit _ib._ Rio de Sal, and Salt-water Lagune _ib._ The Mexican, a copious Language 229 Mazatlan _ib._ Rosario, an Indian Town; River Rosario; Sugar-loaf Hill; Caput Cavalli; Maxentelbo Rock; Hill of Xalisco 230 River of Santiago 230 Town of S^{ta} Pecaque 231 Buccaneers defeated and slain by the Spaniards 233 At the Tres Marias 234 A Root used as Food 235 A Dropsy cured by a Sand Bath _ib._ Bay of Vanderas 236 CHAP. XX. _The =Cygnet=. Her Passage across the =Pacific Ocean=. At the =Ladrones=. At =Mindanao=._ The Cygnet quits the American Coast 237 Large flight of Birds _ib._ Shoals and Breakers near Guahan _ib._ Bank de Santa Rosa 238 At Guahan _ib._ Flying Proe, or Sailing Canoe 239 Bread Fruit 241 Eastern side of Mindanao, and the Island St. John 241 Sarangan and Candigar 243 Harbour or Sound on the South Coast of Mindanao _ib._ River of Mindanao 244 City of Mindanao _ib._ CHAP. XXI. _The =Cygnet= departs from =Mindanao=. At the =Ponghou Isles=. At the =Five Islands=. =Dampier's= Account of the =Five Islands=. They are named the =Bashee Islands=._ South Coast of Mindanao 249 Among the Philippine Islands _ib._ Pulo Condore _ib._ In the China Seas 250 Ponghou Isles 250 The Five Islands _ib._ Dampier's Description of them 250-256 CHAP. XXII. _The =Cygnet=. At the =Philippines=, =Celebes=, and =Timor=. On the Coast of =New Holland=. End of the =Cygnet=._ Island near the SE end of Mindanao 257 Candigar, a convenient Cove there _ib._ Low Island and Shoal, SbW from the West end of Timor 258 NW Coast of New Holland _ib._ Bay on the Coast of New Holland 258 Natives 259 An Island in Latitude 10° 20' S 261 End of the Cygnet _ib._ CHAP. XXIII. _French Buccaneers =under François Grogniet= and =Le Picard=, to the Death of =Grogniet=._ Point de Burica; Chiriquita 263 Unsuccessful attempt at Pueblo Nuevo 265 Grogniet is joined by Townley _ib._ Expedition against the City of Granada 266 At Ria Lexa 269 Grogniet and Townley part company _ib._ Buccaneers under Townley _ib._ Lavelia taken, and set on fire 270 Battle with Spanish armed Ships 274 Death of Townley 277 Grogniet rejoins company 278 They divide, meet again, and reunite 279 Attack on Guayaquil 280 At the Island Puna 282 Grogniet dies _ib._ Edward Davis joins Le Picard 283 CHAP. XXIV. _Retreat of the =French Buccaneers= across =New Spain= to the =West Indies=. All the =Buccaneers= quit the =South Sea=._ In Amapalla Bay 286 Chiloteca; Massacre of Prisoners _ib._ The Buccaneers burn their Vessels 287 They begin their march over land 288 Town of New Segovia 289 Rio de Yare, or Cape River 291 La Pava; Straiton; Le Sage 294 Small Crew of Buccaneers at the Tres Marias. Their Adventures 295 Story related by Le Sieur Froger _ib._ Buccaneers who lived three years on the Island Juan Fernandez 296 CHAP. XXV. _Steps taken towards reducing the =Buccaneers= and =Flibustiers= under subordination to the regular Governments. War of the Grand Alliance against =France=. Neutrality of the =Island St. Christopher= broken._ Reform attempted in the West Indies 298 Campeachy burnt _ib._ Danish Factory robbed 300 The English driven from St. Christopher 301 The English retake St. Christopher 302 CHAP. XXVI. _Siege and Plunder of the City of =Carthagena= on the =Terra Firma=, by an Armament from =France= in conjunction with the =Flibustiers= of =Saint Domingo=._ Armament under M. de Pointis 303 His Character of the Buccaneers 304 Siege of Carthagena by the French 307 The City capitulates 309 Value of the Plunder 313 CHAP. XXVII. _Second Plunder of =Carthagena=. Peace of =Ryswick=, in 1697. Entire Suppression of the =Buccaneers= and =Flibustiers=._ The Buccaneers return to Carthagena 316 Meet an English and Dutch Squadron 319 Peace of Ryswick 320 Causes which led to the Suppression of the Buccaneers _ib._ Providence Island 322 CONCLUSION 323 HISTORY OF THE BUCCANEERS OF AMERICA. CHAPTER I. _Considerations on the Rights acquired by the Discovery of Unknown Lands, and on the Claims advanced by the =Spaniards=._ The accounts given by the Buccaneers who extended their enterprises to the _Pacific Ocean_, are the best authenticated of any which have been published by that class of Adventurers. They are interspersed with nautical and geographical descriptions, corroborative of the events related, and more worth being preserved than the memory of what was performed. The materials for this portion of Buccaneer history, which it was necessary should be included in a History of South Sea Navigations, could not be collected without bringing other parts into view; whence it appeared, that with a moderate increase of labour, and without much enlarging the bulk of narrative, a regular history might be formed of their career, from their first rise, to their suppression; and that such a work would not be without its use. No practice is more common in literature, than for an author to endeavour to clear the ground before him, by mowing down the labours of his predecessors on the same subject. To do this, where the labour they have bestowed is of good tendency, or even to treat with harshness the commission of error where no bad intention is manifest, is in no small degree illiberal. But all the Buccaneer histories that hitherto have appeared, and the number is not small, are boastful compositions, which have delighted in exaggeration: and, what is most mischievous, they have lavished commendation on acts which demanded reprobation, and have endeavoured to raise miscreants, notorious for their want of humanity, to the rank of heroes, lessening thereby the stain upon robbery, and the abhorrence naturally conceived against cruelty. There is some excuse for the Buccaneer, who tells his own story. Vanity, and his prejudices, without any intention to deceive, lead him to magnify his own exploits; and the reader naturally makes allowances. The men whose enterprises are to be related, were natives of different European nations, but chiefly of _Great Britain_ and _France_, and most of them seafaring people, who being disappointed, by accidents or the enmity of the Spaniards, in their more sober pursuits in the _West Indies_, and also instigated by thirst for plunder as much as by desire for vengeance, embodied themselves, under different leaders of their own choosing, to make predatory war upon the Spaniards. These men the Spaniards naturally treated as pirates; but some peculiar circumstances which provoked their first enterprises, and a general feeling of enmity against that nation on account of their American conquests, procured them the connivance of the rest of the maritime states of _Europe_, and to be distinguished first by the softened appellations of Freebooters and Adventurers, and afterwards by that of Buccaneers. _Spain_, or, more strictly speaking, _Castile_, on the merit of a first discovery, claimed an exclusive right to the possession of the whole of _America_, with the exception of the _Brasils_, which were conceded to the Portuguese. These claims, and this division, the Pope sanctioned by an instrument, entitled a Bull of Donation, which was granted at a time when all the maritime powers of _Europe_ were under the spiritual dominion of the See of _Rome_. The Spaniards, however, did not flatter themselves that they should be left in the sole and undisputed enjoyment of so large a portion of the newly-discovered countries; but they were principally anxious to preserve wholly to themselves the _West Indies_: and, such was the monopolising spirit of the Castilians, that during the life of the Queen Ysabel of _Castile_, who was regarded as the patroness of Columbus's discovery, it was difficult even for Spaniards, not subjects born of the crown of _Castile_, to gain access to this _New World_, prohibitions being repeatedly published against the admission of all other persons into the ships bound thither. Ferdinand, King of _Arragon_, the husband of Ysabel, had refused to contribute towards the outfit of Columbus's first voyage, having no opinion of the probability that it would produce him an adequate return; and the undertaking being at the expence of _Castile_, the countries discovered were considered as appendages to the crown of _Castile_. If such jealousy was entertained by the Spaniards of each other, what must not have been their feelings respecting other European nations? 'Whoever,' says Hakluyt, 'is conversant with the Portugal and Spanish writers, shall find that they account all other nations for pirates, rovers, and thieves, which visit any heathen coast that they have sailed by or looked on.' _Spain_ considered the _New World_ as what in our law books is called Treasure-trove, of which she became lawfully and exclusively entitled to take possession, as fully as if it had been found without any owner or proprietor. _Spain_ has not been singular in her maxims respecting the rights of discoverers. Our books of Voyages abound in instances of the same disregard shewn to the rights of the native inhabitants, the only rightful proprietors, by the navigators of other European nations, who, with a solemnity due only to offices of a religious nature, have continually put in practice the form of taking possession of Countries which to them were new discoveries, their being inhabited or desert making no difference. Not unfrequently has the ceremony been performed in the presence, but not within the understanding, of the wondering natives; and on this formality is grounded a claim to usurp the actual possession, in preference to other Europeans. Nothing can be more opposed to common sense, than that strangers should pretend to acquire by discovery, a title to countries they find with inhabitants; as if in those very inhabitants the right of prior discovery was not inherent. On some occasions, however, Europeans have thought it expedient to acknowledge the rights of the natives, as when, in disputing each other's claims, a title by gift from the natives has been pretended. In uninhabited lands, a right of occupancy results from the discovery; but actual and _bonâ fide_ possession is requisite to perfect appropriation. If real possession be not taken, or if taken shall not be retained, the right acquired by the mere discovery is not indefinite and a perpetual bar of exclusion to all others; for that would amount to discovery giving a right equivalent to annihilation. Moveable effects may be hoarded and kept out of use, or be destroyed, and it will not always be easy to prove whether with injury or benefit to mankind: but the necessities of human life will not admit, unless under the strong hand of power, that a right should be pretended to keep extensive and fertile countries waste and secluded from their use, without other reason than the will of a proprietor or claimant. Particular local circumstances have created objections to the occupancy of territory: for instance, between the confines of the Russian and Chinese Empires, large tracts of country are left waste, it being held, that their being occupied by the subjects of either Empire would affect the security of the other. Several similar instances might be mentioned. There is in many cases difficulty to settle what constitutes occupancy. On a small Island, any first settlement is acknowledged an occupancy of the whole; and sometimes, the occupancy of a single Island of a group is supposed to comprehend an exclusive title to the possession of the remainder of the group. In the _West Indies_, the Spaniards regarded their making settlements on a few Islands, to be an actual taking possession of the whole, as far as European pretensions were concerned. The first discovery of Columbus set in activity the curiosity and speculative dispositions of all the European maritime Powers. King Henry the VIIth, of _England_, as soon as he was certified of the existence of countries in the Western hemisphere, sent ships thither, whereby _Newfoundland_, and parts of the continent of _North America_, were first discovered. _South America_ was also visited very early, both by the English and the French; 'which nations,' the Historian of _Brasil_ remarks, 'had neglected to ask a share of the undiscovered World, when Pope Alexander the VIth partitioned it, who would as willingly have drawn two lines as one; and, because they derived no advantage from that partition, refused to admit its validity.' The _West Indies_, however, which doubtless was the part most coveted by all, seem to have been considered as more particularly the discovery and right of the Spaniards; and, either from respect to their pretensions, or from the opinion entertained of their force in those parts, they remained many years undisturbed by intruders in the _West Indian Seas_. But their homeward-bound ships, and also those of the Portuguese from the _East Indies_, did not escape being molested by pirates; sometimes by those of their own, as well as of other nations. CHAP. II. _Review of the Dominion of the =Spaniards= in =Hayti= or =Hispaniola=._ [Sidenote: 1492-3. Hayti, or Hispaniola, the first Settlement of the Spaniards in America.] The first settlement formed by the Castilians in their newly discovered world, was on the Island by the native inhabitants named _Hayti_; but to which the Spaniards gave the name of _Española_ or _Hispaniola_. And in process of time it came to pass, that this same Island became the great place of resort, and nursery, of the European adventurers, who have been so conspicuous under the denomination of the Buccaneers of _America_. The native inhabitants found in _Hayti_, have been described a people of gentle, compassionate dispositions, of too frail a constitution, both of body and mind, either to resist oppression, or to support themselves under its weight; and to the indolence, luxury, and avarice of the discoverers, their freedom and happiness in the first instance, and finally their existence, fell a sacrifice. Queen Ysabel, the patroness of the discovery, believed it her duty, and was earnestly disposed, to be their protectress; but she wanted resolution to second her inclination. The Island abounded in gold mines. The natives were tasked to work them, heavier and heavier by degrees; and it was the great misfortune of Columbus, after achieving an enterprise, the glory of which was not exceeded by any action of his contemporaries, to make an ungrateful use of the success Heaven had favoured him with, and to be the foremost in the destruction of the nations his discovery first made known to _Europe_. [Sidenote: Review of the Dominion of the Spaniards in Hispaniola.] The population of _Hayti_, according to the lowest estimation made, amounted to a million of souls. The first visit of Columbus was passed in a continual reciprocation of kind offices between them and the Spaniards. One of the Spanish ships was wrecked upon the coast, and the natives gave every assistance in their power towards saving the crew, and their effects to them. When Columbus departed to return to _Europe_, he left behind him thirty-eight Spaniards, with the consent of the Chief or Sovereign of the part of the Island where he had been so hospitably received. He had erected a fort for their security, and the declared purpose of their remaining was to protect the Chief against all his enemies. Several of the native Islanders voluntarily embarked in the ships to go to _Spain_, among whom was a relation of the _Hayti_ Chief; and with them were taken gold, and various samples of the productions of the _New World_. Columbus, on his return, was received by the Court of _Spain_ with the honours due to his heroic achievement, indeed with honours little short of adoration: he was declared Admiral, Governor, and Viceroy of the Countries that he had discovered, and also of those which he should afterwards discover; he was ordered to assume the style and title of nobility; and was furnished with a larger fleet to prosecute farther the discovery, and to make conquest of the new lands. The Instructions for his second expedition contained the following direction: 'Forasmuch as you, Christopher Columbus, are going by our command, with our vessels and our men, to discover and subdue certain Islands and Continent, our will is, that you shall be our Admiral, Viceroy, and Governor in them.' This was the first step in the iniquitous usurpations which the more cultivated nations of the world have practised upon their weaker brethren, the natives of _America_. [Sidenote: 1493. Government of Columbus.] Thus provided and instructed, Columbus sailed on his second voyage. On arriving at _Hayti_, the first news he learnt was, that the natives had demolished the fort which he had built, and destroyed the garrison, who, it appeared, had given great provocation, by their rapacity and licentious conduct. War did not immediately follow. Columbus accepted presents of gold from the Chief; he landed a number of colonists, and built a town on the North side of _Hayti_, which he named after the patroness, _Ysabel_, and fortified. [Sidenote: 1494.] A second fort was soon built; new Spaniards arrived; and the natives began to understand that it was the intention of their visitors to stay, and be lords of the country. The Chiefs held meetings, to confer on the means to rid themselves of such unwelcome guests, and there was appearance of preparation making to that end. The Spaniards had as yet no farther asserted dominion, than in taking land for their town and forts, and helping themselves to provisions when the natives neglected to bring supplies voluntarily. The histories of these transactions affect a tone of apprehension on account of the extreme danger in which the Spaniards were, from the multitude of the heathen inhabitants; but all the facts shew that they perfectly understood the helpless character of the natives. A Spanish officer, named Pedro Margarit, was blamed, not altogether reasonably, for disorderly conduct to the natives, which happened in the following manner. He was ordered, with a large body of troops, to make a progress through the Island in different parts, and was strictly enjoined to restrain his men from committing any violence against the natives, or from giving them any cause for complaint. But the troops were sent on their journey without provisions, and the natives were not disposed to furnish them. The troops recurred to violence, which they did not limit to the obtaining food. If Columbus could spare a detachment strong enough to make such a visitation through the land, he could have entertained no doubt of his ability to subdue it. But before he risked engaging in open war with the natives, he thought it prudent to weaken their means of resisting by what he called stratagem. _Hayti_ was divided into five provinces, or small kingdoms, under the separate dominion of as many Princes or Caciques. One of these, Coanabo, the Cacique of _Maguana_, Columbus believed to be more resolute, and more dangerous to his purpose, than any other of the chiefs. To Coanabo, therefore, he sent an Officer, to propose an accommodation on terms which appeared so reasonable, that the Indian Chief assented to them. Afterwards, relying on the good faith of the Spaniards, not, as some authors have meanly represented, through credulous and childish simplicity, but with the natural confidence which generally prevails, and which ought to prevail, among mankind in their mutual engagements, he gave opportunity for Columbus to get possession of his person, who caused him to be seized, and embarked in a ship then ready to sail for _Spain_. The ship foundered in the passage. [Sidenote: 1495.] The story of Coanabo, and the contempt with which he treated Columbus for his treachery, form one of the most striking circumstances in the history of the perfidious dealings of the Spaniards in _America_. [Sidenote: Dogs used in Battle against the Indians.] On the seizure of this Chief, the Islanders rose in arms. Columbus took the field with two hundred foot armed with musketry and cross-bows, with twenty troopers mounted on horses, and with twenty large dogs[1]! It is not to be urged in exculpation of the Spaniards, that the natives were the aggressors, by their killing the garrison left at _Hayti_. Columbus had terminated his first visit in friendship; and, without the knowledge that any breach had happened between the Spaniards left behind, and the natives, sentence of subjugation had been pronounced against them. This was not to avenge injury, for the Spaniards knew not of any committed. Columbus was commissioned to execute this sentence, and for that end, besides a force of armed men, he took with him from _Spain_ a number of blood-hounds, to prosecute a most unrighteous purpose by the most inhuman means. Many things are justifiable in defence, which in offensive war are regarded by the generality of mankind with detestation. All are agreed in the use of dogs, as faithful guards to our persons as well as to our dwellings; but to hunt men with dogs seems to have been till then unheard of, and is nothing less offensive to humanity than cannibalism or feasting on our enemies. Neither jagged shot, poisoned darts, springing of mines, nor any species of destruction, can be objected to, if this is allowed in honourable war, or admitted not to be a disgraceful practice in any war. It was scarcely possible for the Indians, or indeed for any people naked and undisciplined, however numerous, to stand their ground against a force so calculated to excite dread. The Islanders were naturally a timid people, and they regarded fire-arms as engines of more than mortal contrivance. Don Ferdinand, the son of Columbus, who wrote a History of his father's actions, relates an instance, which happened before the war, of above 400 Indians running away from a single Spanish horseman. [Sidenote: Massacre of the Natives, and Subjugation of the Island.] So little was attack, or valiant opposition, apprehended from the natives, that Columbus divided his force into several squadrons, to charge them at different points. 'These faint-hearted creatures,' says Don Ferdinand, 'fled at the first onset; and our men, pursuing and killing them, made such havock, that in a short time they obtained a complete victory.' The policy adopted by Columbus was, to confirm the natives in their dread of European arms, by a terrible execution. The victors, both dogs and men, used their ascendancy like furies. The dogs flew at the throats of the Indians, and strangled or tore them in pieces; whilst the Spaniards, with the eagerness of hunters, pursued and mowed down the unresisting fugitives. Some thousands of the Islanders were slaughtered, and those taken prisoners were consigned to servitude. If the fact were not extant, it would not be conceivable that any one could be so blind to the infamy of such a proceeding, as to extol the courage of the Spaniards on this occasion, instead of execrating their cruelty. Three hundred of the natives were shipped for _Spain_ as slaves, and the whole Island, with the exception of a small part towards the Western coast, which has since been named the _Cul de Sac_, was subdued. [Sidenote: Tribute imposed.] Columbus made a leisurely progress through the Island, which occupied him nine or ten months, and imposed a tribute generally upon all the natives above the age of fourteen, requiring each of them to pay quarterly a certain quantity of gold, or 25 lbs. of cotton. Those natives who were discovered to have been active against the Spaniards, were taxed higher. To prevent evasion, rings or tokens, to be produced in the nature of receipts, were given to the Islanders on their paying the tribute, and any Islander found without such a mark in his possession, was deemed not to have paid, and proceeded against. Queen Ysabel shewed her disapprobation of Columbus's proceedings, by liberating and sending back the captive Islanders to their own country; and she moreover added her positive commands, that none of the natives should be made slaves. This order was accompanied with others intended for their protection; but the Spanish Colonists, following the example of their Governor, contrived means to evade them. In the mean time, the Islanders could not furnish the tribute, and Columbus was rigorous in the collection. It is said in palliation, that he was embarrassed in consequence of the magnificent descriptions he had given to Ferdinand and Ysabel, of the riches of _Hispaniola_, by which he had taught them to expect much; and that the fear of disappointing them and losing their favour, prompted him to act more oppressively to the Indians than his disposition otherwise inclined him to do. Distresses of this kind press upon all men; but only in very ordinary minds do they outweigh solemn considerations. Setting aside the dictates of religion and moral duty, as doubtless was done, and looking only to worldly advantages, if Columbus had properly estimated his situation, he would have been resolute not to descend from the eminence he had attained. The dilemma in which he was placed, was simply, whether he would risk some diminution of the favour he was in at Court, by being the protector of these Islanders, who, by circumstances peculiarly calculated to engage his interest, were entitled in an especial manner to have been regarded as his clients; or, to preserve that favour, would oppress them to their destruction, and to the ruin of his own fame. [Sidenote: Despair of the Natives.] The Islanders, finding their inability to oppose the invaders, took the desperate resolution to desist from the cultivation of their lands, to abandon their houses, and to withdraw themselves to the mountains; hoping thereby that want of subsistence would force their oppressors to quit the Island. The Spaniards had many resources; the sea-coast supplied them with fish, and their vessels brought provisions from other islands. As to the natives of _Hayti_, one third part of them, it is said, perished in the course of a few months, by famine and by suicide. The rest returned to their dwellings, and submitted. All these events took place within three years after the discovery; so active is rapacity. Some among the Spaniards (authors of that time say, the enemies of Columbus, as if sentiments of humanity were not capable of such an effort) wrote Memorials to their Catholic Majesties, representing the disastrous condition to which the natives were reduced. [Sidenote: 1496.] Commissioners were sent to examine into the fact, and Columbus found it necessary to go to _Spain_ to defend his administration. So great was the veneration and respect entertained for him, that on his arrival at Court, accusation was not allowed to be produced against him: and, without instituting enquiry, it was arranged, that he should return to his government with a large reinforcement of Spaniards, and with authority to grant lands to whomsoever he chose to think capable of cultivating them. Various accidents delayed his departure from _Spain_ on his third voyage, till 1498. [Sidenote: City of Nueva Ysabel founded, 1496.] He had left two of his brothers to govern in _Hispaniola_ during his absence; the eldest, Bartolomé, with the title of Adelantado; in whose time (A. D. 1496) was traced, on the South side of the Island, the plan of a new town intended for the capital, the land in the neighbourhood of the town of _Ysabel_, before built, being poor and little productive. [Sidenote: Its name changed to Santo Domingo.] The name first given to the new town was _Nueva Ysabel_; this in a short time gave place to that of _Santo Domingo_, a name which was not imposed by authority, but adopted and became in time established by common usage, of which the original cause is not now known[2]. Under the Adelantado's government, the parts of the Island which till then had held out in their refusal to receive the Spanish yoke, were reduced to subjection; and the conqueror gratified his vanity with the public execution of one of the Hayti Kings. Columbus whilst he was in _Spain_ received mortification in two instances, of neither of which he had any right to complain. In October 1496, three hundred natives of _Hayti_ (made prisoners by the Adelantado) were landed at _Cadiz_, being sent to _Spain_ as slaves. At this act of disobedience, the King and Queen strongly expressed their displeasure, and said, if the Islanders made war against the Castilians, they must have been constrained to do it by hard treatment. Columbus thought proper to blame, and to disavow what his brother had done. The other instance of his receiving mortification, was an act of kindness done him, and so intended; and it was the only shadow of any thing like reproof offered to him. In the instructions which he now received, it was earnestly recommended to him to prefer conciliation to severity on all occasions which would admit it without prejudice to justice or to his honour. [Sidenote: 1498.] It was in the third voyage of Columbus that he first saw the Continent of _South America_, in August 1498, which he then took to be an Island, and named _Isla Santa_. He arrived on the 22d of the same month at the City of _San Domingo_. The short remainder of Columbus's government in _Hayti_ was occupied with disputes among the Spaniards themselves. A strong party was in a state of revolt against the government of the Columbuses, and accommodation was kept at a distance, by neither party daring to place trust in the other. [Sidenote: 1498-9.] Columbus would have had recourse to arms to recover his authority, but some of his troops deserted to the disaffected, and others refused to be employed against their countrymen. In this state, the parties engaged in a treaty on some points, and each sent Memorials to the Court. The Admiral in his dispatches represented, that necessity had made him consent to certain conditions, to avoid endangering the Colony; but that it would be highly prejudicial to the interests of their Majesties to ratify the treaty he had been forced to subscribe. [Sidenote: Beginning of the Repartimientos.] The Admiral now made grants of lands to Spanish colonists, and accompanied them with requisitions to the neighbouring Caciques, to furnish the new proprietors with labourers to cultivate the soil. This was the beginning of the _Repartimientos_, or distributions of the Indians, which confirmed them slaves, and contributed, more than all former oppressions, to their extermination. Notwithstanding the earnest and express order of the King and Queen to the contrary, the practice of transporting the natives of _Hayti_ to _Spain_ as slaves, was connived at and continued; and this being discovered, lost Columbus the confidence, but not wholly the support, of Queen Ysabel. [Sidenote: 1500. Government of Bovadilla.] The dissensions in the Colony increased, as did the unpopularity of the Admiral; and in the year 1500, a new Governor General of the _Indies_, Francisco de Bovadilla, was sent from _Spain_, with a commission empowering him to examine into the accusations against the Admiral; and he was particularly enjoined by the Queen, to declare all the native inhabitants free, and to take measures to secure to them that they should be treated as a free people. How a man so grossly ignorant and intemperate as Bovadilla, should have been chosen to an office of such high trust, is not a little extraordinary. His first display of authority was to send the Columbuses home prisoners, with the indignity to their persons of confining them in chains. He courted popularity in his government by shewing favour to all who had been disaffected to the government or measures of the Admiral and his brothers, the natives excepted, for whose relief he had been especially appointed Governor. To encourage the Spaniards to work the mines, he reduced the duties payable to the Crown on the produce, and trusted to an increase in the quantity of gold extracted, for preserving the revenue from diminution. [Sidenote: All the Natives compelled to work the Mines.] This was to be effected by increasing the labour of the natives; and that these miserable people might not evade their servitude, he caused muster-rolls to be made of all the inhabitants, divided them into classes, and made distribution of them according to the value of the mines, or to his desire to gratify particular persons. The Spanish Colonists believed that the same facilities to enrich themselves would not last long, and made all the haste in their power to profit by the present opportunity. By these means, Bovadilla drew from the mines in a few months so great a quantity of gold, that one fleet which he sent home, carried a freight more than sufficient to reimburse _Spain_ all the expences which had been incurred in the discovery and conquest. The procuring these riches was attended with so great a mortality among the natives as to threaten their utter extinction. Nothing could exceed the surprise and indignation of the Queen, on receiving information of these proceedings. The bad government of Bovadilla was a kind of palliation which had the effect of lessening the reproach upon the preceding government, and, joined to the disgraceful manner in which Columbus had been sent home, produced a revolution of sentiment in his favour. The good Queen Ysabel wished to compensate him for the hard treatment he had received, at the same time that she had the sincerity to make him understand she would not again commit the Indian natives to his care. All his other offices and dignities were restored to him. [Sidenote: 1501-2. Nicolas Ovando, Governor.] For a successor to Bovadilla in the office of Governor General, Don Nicolas Ovando, a Cavalero of the Order of _Alcantara_, was chosen; a man esteemed capable and just, and who entered on his government with apparent mildness and consideration. But in a short time he proved the most execrable of all the tyrants, 'as if,' says an historian, 'tyranny was inherent and contagious in the office, so as to change good men to bad, for the destruction of these unfortunate Indians.' [Sidenote: Working the Mines discontinued by Orders from Spain.] In obedience to his instructions, Ovando, on arriving at his government, called a General Assembly of all the Caciques or principal persons among the natives, to whom he declared, that their Catholic Majesties took the Islanders under their royal protection; that no exaction should be made on them, other than the tribute which had been heretofore imposed; and that no person should be employed to work in the mines, except on the footing of voluntary labourers for wages. [Sidenote: 1502.] On the promulgation of the royal pleasure, all working in the mines immediately ceased. The impression made by their past sufferings was too strong for any offer of pay or reward to prevail on them to continue in that work. [The same thing happened, many years afterwards, between the Chilese and the Spaniards.] A few mines had been allowed to remain in possession of some of the Caciques of _Hayti_, on the condition of rendering up half the produce; but now, instead of working them, they sold their implements. In consequence of this defection, it was judged expedient to lower the royal duties on the produce of the mines, which produced some effect. Ovando, however, was intent on procuring the mines to be worked as heretofore, but proceeded with caution. In his dispatches to the Council of the _Indies_, he represented in strong colours the natural levity and inconstancy of the Indians, and their idle and disorderly manner of living; on which account, he said, it would be for their improvement and benefit to find them occupation in moderate labour; that there would be no injustice in so doing, as they would receive wages for their work, and they would thereby be enabled to pay the tribute, which otherwise, from their habitual idleness, many would not be able to satisfy. He added moreover, that the Indians, being left entirely their own masters, kept at a distance from the Spanish habitations, which rendered it impossible to instruct them in the principles of Christianity. This reasoning, and the proposal to furnish the natives with employment, were approved by the Council of the _Indies_; and the Court, from the opinion entertained of the justice and moderation of Ovando, acquiesced so far as to trust making the experiment to his discretion. In reply to his representations, he received instructions recommending, 'That if it was necessary to oblige the Indians to work, it should be done in the most gentle and moderate manner; that the Caciques should be invited to send their people in regular turns; and that the employers should treat them well, and pay them wages, according to the quality of the person and nature of the labour; that care should be taken for their regular attendance at religious service and instruction; and that it should be remembered they were a free people, to be governed with mildness, and on no account to be treated as slaves.' [Sidenote: 1502-3. The Natives again forced to the Mines.] These directions, notwithstanding the expressions of care for the natives contained in them, released the Governor General from all restriction. This man had recently been appointed Grand Master of the order of _Calatrava_, and thenceforward he was most generally distinguished by the appellation or title of the Grand Commander. A transaction of a shocking nature, which took place during Bovadilla's government, caused an insurrection of the natives; but which did not break out till after the removal of Bovadilla. A Spanish vessel had put into a port of the province of _Higuey_ (the most Eastern part of _Hayti_) to procure a lading of _cassava_, a root which is used as bread. The Spaniards landed, having with them a large dog held by a cord. Whilst the natives were helping them to what they wanted, one of the Spaniards in wanton insolence pointed to a Cacique, and called to the dog in manner of setting him on. The Spaniard who held the cord, it is doubtful whether purposely or by accident, suffered it to slip out of his hand, and the dog instantly tore out the unfortunate Cacique's entrails. The people of _Higuey_ sent a deputation, to complain to Bovadilla; but those who went could not obtain attention. [Sidenote: Severities shewn to the people of Higuey.] In the beginning of Ovando's government, some other Spaniards landed at the same port of _Higuey_, and the natives, in revenge for what had happened, fell upon them, and killed them; after which they took to arms. This insurrection was quelled with so great a slaughter, that the province, from having been well peopled, was rendered almost a desert. [Sidenote: 1503. Encomiendas established.] Ovando, on obtaining his new instructions, followed the model set by his predecessors. He enrolled and classed the natives in divisions, called _Repartimientos_: from these he assigned to the Spanish proprietors a specified number of labourers, by grants, which, with most detestable hypocrisy, were denominated _Encomiendas_. The word _Encomienda_ signifies recommendation, and the employer to whom the Indian was consigned, was to have the reputation of being his patron. The _Encomienda_ was conceived in the following terms:--'_I recommend to =A. B.= such and such Indians =(listed by name)= the subjects of such Cacique; and he is to take care to have them instructed in the principles of our holy faith._' Under the enforcement of the _encomiendas_, the natives were again dragged to the mines; and many of these unfortunate wretches were kept by their hard employers under ground for six months together. With the labour, and grief at being again doomed to slavery, they sunk so rapidly, that it suggested to the murderous proprietors of the mines the having recourse to _Africa_ for slaves. [Sidenote: African Slaves carried to the West Indies.] Ovando, after small experience of this practice, endeavoured to oppose it as dangerous, the Africans frequently escaping from their masters, and finding concealment among the natives, in whom they excited some spirit of resistance. The ill use made by the Grand Commander of the powers with which he had been trusted, appears to have reached the Court early, for, in 1503, he received fresh orders, enjoining him not to allow, on any pretext, the natives to be employed in labour against their own will, either in the mines or elsewhere. Ovando, however, trusted to being supported by the Spanish proprietors of the mines within his government, who grew rich by the _encomiendas_, and with their assistance he found pretences for not restraining himself to the orders of the Court. In parts of the Island, the Caciques still enjoyed a degree of authority over the natives, which rested almost wholly on habitual custom and voluntary attachment. To loosen this band, Ovando, assuming the character of a protector, published ordonnances to release the lower classes from the oppressions of the Caciques; but from those of their European taskmasters he gave them no relief. Some of the principal among the native inhabitants of _Xaragua_, the South-western province of _Hayti_, had the hardiness openly to express their discontent at the tyranny exercised by the Spaniards established in that province. The person at this time regarded as Cacique or Chief of _Xaragua_ was a female, sister to the last Cacique, who had died without issue. The Spanish histories call her Queen of _Xaragua_. This Princess had shewn symptoms of something like abhorrence of the Spaniards near her, and they did not fail to send representations to the Grand Commander, with the addition, that there appeared indications of an intention in the Xaraguans to revolt. On receiving this notice, Ovando determined that _Xaragua_, as _Higuey_ had before, should feel the weight of his displeasure. Putting himself at the head of 370 Spanish troops, part of them cavalry, he departed from the city of _San Domingo_ for the devoted province, giving out publicly, that his intention was to make a progress into the West, to collect the tribute, and to visit the Queen of _Xaragua_. He was received by the Princess and her people with honours, feastings, and all the demonstrations of joy usually acted by terrified people with the hopes of soothing tyranny; and the troops were regaled with profusion of victuals, with dancing, and shows. [Sidenote: 1503-4.] After some days thus spent, Ovando invited the Princess, her friends and attendants, to an entertainment which he promised them, after the manner of _Spain_. A large open public building was the chosen place for holding this festival, and all the Spanish settlers in the province were required to attend. A great concourse of Indians, besides the bidden guests, crowded round, to enjoy the spectacle. [Sidenote: Massacre of the people of Xaragua.] As the appointed time approached, the Spanish infantry gradually appeared, and took possession of all the avenues; which being secured, this Grand Commander himself appeared, mounted at the head of his cavalry; and on his making a signal, which had been previously concerted, which was laying his hand on the Cross of his Order, the whole of these diabolical conquerors fell upon the defenceless multitude, who were so hemmed in, that thousands were slaughtered, and it was scarcely possible for any to escape unwounded. Some of the principal Indians or Caciques, it is said, were by the Commander's order fastened to the pillars of the building, where they were questioned, and made to confess themselves in a conspiracy against the Spanish government; after which confession the building was set on fire, and they perished in the flames. The massacre did not stop here. Detachments of troops, with dogs, were sent to hunt and destroy the natives in different parts of the province, and some were pursued over to the Island _Gonave_. The Princess was carried bound to the city of _San Domingo_, and with the forms of law was tried, condemned, and put to death. The purposes, besides that of gratifying his revenge for the hatred shewn to his government, which were sufficient to move Ovando to this bloody act, were, the plunder of the province, and the reduction of the Islanders to a more manageable number, and to the most unlimited submission. [Sidenote: 1504.] Some of the Indians fled to the mountains. 'But,' say the Spanish Chronicles of these events, 'in a short time their Chiefs were taken and punished, and at the end of six months there was not a native living on the Island who had not submitted to the dominion of the Spaniards.' [Sidenote: Death of Queen Ysabel.] Queen Ysabel died in November 1504, much and universally lamented. This Princess bore a large share in the usurpations practised in the New World; but it is evident she was carried away, contrary to her real principles and disposition, which were just and benevolent, and to her own happiness, by the powerful stream of general opinion. In _Europe_, political principles, or maxims of policy, have been in continual change, fashioned by the nature of the passing events, no less than dress has been by caprice; causes which have led one to deviate from plain rectitude, as the other from convenience. One principle, covetousness of the attainment of power, has nevertheless constantly predominated, and has derided and endeavoured to stigmatize as weakness and imbecility, the stopping short of great acquisitions, territorial especially, for moral considerations. Queen Ysabel lived surrounded by a world of such politicians, who were moreover stimulated to avarice by the prospect of American gold; a passion which yet more than ambition is apt to steel the heart of man against the calls of justice and the distresses of his fellow creatures. If Ysabel had been endued with more than mortal fortitude, she might have refused her sanction to the usurpations, but could not have prevented them. On her death bed she earnestly recommended to King Ferdinand to recall Ovando. Ovando, however, sent home much gold, and Ferdinand referred to a distant time the fulfilment of her dying request. Upon news of the death of Queen Ysabel, the small wages which had been paid the Indians for their labour, amounting to about half a piastre _per_ month, were withheld, as being too grievous a burthen on the Spanish Colonists; and the hours of labour were no longer limited. [Sidenote: 1506.] In the province of _Higuey_, the tyranny and licentiousness of the military again threw the poor natives into a frenzy of rage and despair, and they once more revolted, burnt the fort, and killed the soldiers. Ovando resolved to put it out of the power of the people of _Higuey_ ever again to be troublesome. A strong body of troops was marched into the province, the Cacique of _Higuey_ (the last of the _Hayti_ Kings) was taken prisoner and executed, and the province pacified. The pecuniary value of grants of land in _Hayti_ with _encomiendas_, became so considerable as to cause them to be coveted and solicited for by many of the grandees and favourites of the Court in _Spain_, who, on obtaining them, sent out agents to turn them to account. [Sidenote: Desperate condition of the Natives.] The agent was to make his own fortune by his employment, and to satisfy his principal. In no instance were the natives spared through any interference of the Grand Commander. It was a maxim with this bad man, always to keep well with the powerful; and every thing respecting the natives was yielded to their accommodation. Care, however, was taken that the Indians should be baptised, and that a head tax should be paid to the Crown; and these particulars being complied with, the rest was left to the patron of the _encomienda_. Punishments and tortures of every kind were practised, to wring labour out of men who were dying through despair. Some of the accounts, which are corroborated by circumstances, relate, that the natives were frequently coupled and harnessed like cattle, and driven with whips. If they fell under their load, they were flogged up. To prevent their taking refuge in the woods or mountains, an officer, under the title of _Alguazil del Campo_, was constantly on the watch with a pack of hounds; and many Indians, in endeavouring to escape, were torn in pieces. The settlers on the Island, the great men at home, their agents, and the royal revenue, were all to be enriched at the expence of the destruction of the natives. It was as if the discovery of _America_ had changed the religion of the Spaniards from Christianity to the worship of gold with human sacrifices. If power were entitled to dominion between man and man, as between man and other animals, the Spaniards would remain chargeable with the most outrageous abuse of their advantages. In enslaving the inhabitants of _Hayti_, if they had been satisfied with reducing them to the state of cattle, it would have been merciful, comparatively with what was done. The labour imposed by mankind upon their cattle, is in general so regulated as not to exceed what is compatible with their full enjoyment of health; but the main consideration with the Spanish proprietors was, by what means they should obtain the greatest quantity of gold from the labour of the natives in the shortest time. By an enumeration made in the year 1507, the number of the natives in the whole Island _Hayti_ was reckoned at 60,000, the remains of a population which fifteen years before exceeded a million. The insatiate colonists did not stop: many of the mines lay unproductive for want of labourers, and they bent their efforts to the supplying this defect. [Sidenote: The Grand Antilles.] The Islands of the _West Indies_ have been classed into three divisions, which chiefly regard their situations; but they are distinguished also by other peculiar circumstances. The four largest Islands, _Cuba_, _Hayti_, _Jamaica_, and _Porto Rico_, have been called the _Grand Antilles_. When first discovered by Europeans, they were inhabited by people whose similarity of language, of customs, and character, bespoke them the offspring of one common stock. [Sidenote: Small Antilles, or Caribbee Islands.] The second division is a chain of small Islands Eastward of these, and extending South to the coast of _Paria_ on the Continent of _South America_. They have been called sometimes the _Small Antilles_; sometimes after the native inhabitants, the _Caribbee Islands_; and not less frequently by a subdivision, the Windward and Leeward Islands. The inhabitants on these Islands were a different race from the inhabitants of the _Grand Antilles_. They spoke a different language, were robust in person; and in disposition fierce, active, and warlike. Some have conjectured them to be of Tartar extraction, which corresponds with the belief that they emigrated from _North America_ to the _West Indies_. It is supposed they drove out the original inhabitants from the _Small Antilles_, to establish themselves there; but they had not gained footing in the large Islands. [Sidenote: Lucayas, or Bahama Islands.] The third division of the Islands is the cluster which are situated to the North of _Cuba_, and near _East Florida_, and are called the _Lucayas_, of whose inhabitants mention will shortly be made. The Spanish Government participated largely in the wickedness practised to procure labourers for the mines of _Hispaniola_. Pretending great concern for the cause of humanity, they declared it legal, and gave general license, for any individual to make war against, and enslave, people who were cannibals; under which pretext every nation, both of the American Continent and of the Islands, was exposed to their enterprises. Spanish adventurers made attempts to take people from the small _Antilles_, sometimes with success; but they were not obtained without danger, and in several expeditions of the kind, the Spaniards were repulsed with loss. This made them turn their attention to the _Lucayas Islands_. [Sidenote: 1508.] The inhabitants of the _Lucayas_, an unsuspicious and credulous people, did not escape the snares laid for them. Ovando, in his dispatches to _Spain_, represented the benefit it would be to the holy faith, to have the inhabitants of the _Lucayas_ instructed in the Christian religion; for which purpose, he said, 'it would be necessary they should be transported to _Hispaniola_, as Missionaries could not be spared to every place, and there was no other way in which this abandoned people could be converted.' [Sidenote: The Natives of the Lucayas betrayed to the Mines;] King Ferdinand and the Council of the Indies were themselves so abandoned and destitute of all goodness, as to pretend to give credit to Ovando's representation, and lent him their authority to sacrifice the Lucayans, under the pretext of advancing religion. Spanish ships were sent to the Islands on this business, and the natives were at first inveigled on board by the foulest hypocrisy and treachery. Among the artifices used by the Spaniards, they pretended that they came from a delicious country, where rested the souls of the deceased fathers, kinsmen, and friends, of the Lucayans, who had sent to invite them. [Sidenote: and the Islands wholly unpeopled.] The innocent Islanders so seduced to follow the Spaniards, when, on arriving at _Hispaniola_, they found how much they had been abused, died in great numbers of chagrin and grief. Afterwards, when these impious pretences of the Spaniards were no longer believed, they dragged away the natives by force, as long as any could be found, till they wholly unpeopled the _Lucayas Islands_. The Buccaneers of _America_, whose adventures and misdeeds are about to be related, may be esteemed saints in comparison with the men whose names have been celebrated as the Conquerors of the NEW WORLD. In the same manner as at the _Lucayas_, other Islands of the _West Indies_, and different parts of the Continent, were resorted to for recruits. A pearl fishery was established, in which the Indians were not more spared as divers, than on the land as miners. _Porto Rico_ was conquered at this time. [Sidenote: Fate of the native Inhabitants of Porto Rico.] Ore had been brought thence, which was not so pure as that of _Hayti_; but it was of sufficient value to determine Ovando to the conquest of the Island. The Islanders were terrified by the carnage which the Spaniards with their dogs made in the commencement of the war, and, from the fear of irritating them by further resistance, they yielded wholly at discretion, and were immediately sent to the mines, where in a short time they all perished. In the same year with _Porto Rico_, the Island of _Jamaica_ was taken possession of by the Spaniards. [Sidenote: 1509. D. Diego Columbus, Governor of Hispaniola.] Ovando was at length recalled, and was succeeded in the government of _Hispaniola_ by Don Diego Columbus, the eldest son and inheritor of the rights and titles of the Admiral Christopher. To conclude with Ovando, it is related that he was regretted by his countrymen in the _Indies_, and was well received at Court. Don Diego did not make any alteration in the _repartimientos_, except that some of them changed hands in favour of his own adherents. During his government, some fathers of the Dominican Order had the courage to inveigh from the pulpit against the enormity of the _repartimientos_, and were so persevering in their representations, that the Court of _Spain_ found it necessary, to avoid scandal, to order an enquiry into the condition of the Indians. In this enquiry it was seriously disputed, whether it was just or unjust to make them slaves. [Sidenote: 1511. Increase of Cattle in Hayti.] The Histories of _Hispaniola_ first notice about this time a great increase in the number of cattle in the Island. As the human race disappeared, less and less land was occupied in husbandry, till almost the whole country became pasturage for cattle, by far the greater part of which were wild. An ordonnance, issued in the year 1511, specified, that as beasts of burthen were so much multiplied, the Indians should not be made to carry or drag heavy loads. [Sidenote: Cuba.] In 1511, the conquest of _Cuba_ was undertaken and completed. The terror conceived of the Spaniards is not to be expressed. The story of the conquest is related in a Spanish history in the following terms: 'A leader was chosen, who had acquitted himself in high employments with fortune and good conduct. He had in other respects amiable qualities, and was esteemed a man of honour and rectitude. He went from _S. Domingo_ with regular troops and above 300 volunteers. He landed in _Cuba_, not without opposition from the natives. In a few days, he surprised and took the principal Cacique, named Hatuey, prisoner, and _made him expiate in the flames the fault he had been guilty of in not submitting with a good grace to the conqueror_.' This Cacique, when at the stake, being importuned by a Spanish priest to become a Christian, that he might go to Heaven, replied, that if any Spaniard was to be met in Heaven, he hoped not to go there. [Sidenote: 1514.] The Reader will be detained a very little longer with these irksome scenes. In 1514, the number of the inhabitants of _Hayti_ was reckoned 14,000. A distributor of Indians was appointed, with powers independent of the Governor, with intention to save the few remaining natives of _Hayti_. The new distributor began the exercise of his office by a general revocation of all the _encomiendas_, except those which had been granted by the King; and almost immediately afterwards, in the most open and shameless manner, he made new grants, and sold them to the highest bidder. [Sidenote: 1515.] He was speedily recalled; and another (the Licentiate Ybarra) was sent to supply his place, who had a high character for probity and resolution; but he died immediately on his arrival at _Santo Domingo_, and not without suspicion that he was poisoned. [Sidenote: Bart. de las Casas, and Cardinal Ximenes; their endeavours to serve the Indians. The Cardinal dies.] The endeavours of the Dominican Friars in behalf of the natives were seconded by the Licentiate Bartolomeo de las Casas, and by Cardinal Ximenes when he became Prime Minister of _Spain_; and, to their great honour, they were both resolute to exert all their power to preserve the natives of _America_. The Cardinal sent Commissioners, and with them las Casas, with the title of Protector of the Indians. But the Cardinal died in 1517; after which all the exertions of las Casas and the Dominicans could not shake the _repartimientos_. [Sidenote: 1519.] At length, among the native Islanders there sprung up one who had the courage to put himself at the head of a number of his countrymen, and the address to withdraw with them from the gripe of the Spaniards, and to find refuge among the mountains. [Sidenote: Cacique Henriquez.] This man was the son, and, according to the laws of inheritance, should have been the successor, of one of the principal Caciques. He had been christened by the name of Henriquez, and, in consequence of a regulation made by the late Queen Ysabel of _Castile_, he had been educated, on account of his former rank, in a Convent of the Franciscans. He defended his retreat in the mountains by skilful management and resolute conduct, and had the good fortune in the commencement to defeat some parties of Spanish troops sent against him, which encouraged more of his countrymen, and as many of the Africans as could escape, to flock to him; and under his government, as of a sovereign prince, they withstood the attempts of the Spaniards to subdue them. Fortunately for Henriquez and his followers, the conquest and settlement of _Cuba_, and the invasion of _Mexico_, which was begun at this time, lessened the strength of the Spaniards in _Hispaniola_, and enabled the insurgents for many years to keep all the Spanish settlements in the Island in continual alarm, and to maintain their own independence. During this time, the question of the propriety of keeping the Islanders in slavery, underwent grave examinations. It is related that the experiment was tried, of allowing a number of the natives to build themselves two villages, to live in them according to their own customs and liking; and that the result was, they were found to be so improvident, and so utterly unable to take care of themselves, that the _encomiendas_ were pronounced to be necessary for their preservation. Such an experiment is a mockery. Before the conquest, and now under Don Henriquez, the people of _Hayti_ shewed they wanted not the Spaniards to take care of them. CHAP. III. _Ships of different European Nations frequent the =West Indies=. Opposition experienced by them from the =Spaniards=. Hunting of Cattle in =Hispaniola=._ [Sidenote: 1518. Adventure of an English Ship.] In the year 1517 or 1518, some Spaniards in a caravela going from _St. Domingo_ to the Island _Porto Rico_, to take in a lading of cassava, were surprised at seeing a ship there of about 250 tons, armed with cannon, which did not appear to belong to the Spanish nation; and on sending a boat to make enquiry, she was found to be English. The account given by the English Commander was, that two ships had sailed from _England_ in company, with the intention to discover the country of the Great Cham; that they were soon separated from each other by a tempest, and that this ship was afterwards in a sea almost covered with ice; that thence she had sailed southward to _Brasil_, and, after various adventures, had found the way to _Porto Rico_. This same English ship, being provided with merchandise, went afterwards to _Hispaniola_, and anchored near the entrance of the port of _San Domingo_, where the Captain sent on shore to demand leave to sell their goods. The demand was forwarded to the _Audiencia_, or superior court in _San Domingo_; but the Castellana, or Governor of the Castle, Francisco de Tapia, could not endure with patience to see a ship of another nation in that part of the world, and, without waiting for the determination of the _Audiencia_, ordered the cannon of the fort to be fired against her; on which she took up her anchor and returned to _Porto Rico_, where she purchased provisions, paying for what she got with wrought iron, and afterwards departed for _Europe_[3]. When this visit of an English ship to the _West Indies_ was known in _Spain_, it caused there great inquietude; and the Governor of the Castle of _San Domingo_, it is said, was much blamed, because he had not, instead of forcing the ship to depart by firing his cannon, contrived to seize her, so that no one might have returned to teach others of their nation the route to the Spanish Indies. [Sidenote: The French and other Europeans resort to the West Indies;] The English were not the only people of whom the Spaniards had cause to be jealous, nor those from whom the most mischief was to be apprehended. The French, as already noticed, had very early made expeditions to _Brasil_, and they now began to look at the _West Indies_; so that in a short time the sight of other European ships than those of _Spain_ became no novelty there. Hakluyt mentions a Thomas Tyson, an Englishman, who went to the _West Indies_ in 1526, as factor to some English merchants. [Sidenote: Are regarded as Interlopers by the Spaniards. 1529. Regulation proposed by the Government in Hispaniola, for protection against Pirates.] When the Spaniards met any of these intruders, if able to master them, they made prisoners of them, and many they treated as pirates. The new comers soon began to retaliate. In 1529, the Governor and Council at _San Domingo_ drew up the plan of a regulation for the security of their ships against the increasing dangers from pirates in the _West Indies_. In this, they recommended, that a central port of commerce should be established in the _West Indies_, to which every ship from _Spain_ should be obliged to go first, as to a general rendezvous, and thence be dispatched, as might suit circumstances, to her farther destination; also, that all their ships homeward bound, from whatsoever part of the _West Indies_, should first rendezvous at the same port; by which regulation their ships, both outward and homeward bound, would form escorts to each other, and have the benefit of mutual support; and they proposed that some port in _Hispaniola_ should be appointed for the purpose, as most conveniently situated. This plan appears to have been approved by the Council of the _Indies_; but, from indolence, or some other cause, no farther measures were taken for its adoption. The attention of the Spaniards was at this time almost wholly engrossed by the conquest and plunder of the American Continent, which it might have been supposed would have sufficed them, according to the opinion of Francisco Preciado, a Spanish discoverer, who observed, that _there was country enough to conquer for a thousand years_. The continental pursuits caused much diminution in the importance of the _West India Islands_ to the Spaniards. The mines of the Islands were not comparable in richness with those of the Continent, and, for want of labourers, many were left unworked. [Sidenote: Hunting of Cattle in Hispaniola.] The colonists in _Hispaniola_, however, had applied themselves to the cultivation of the sugar-cane, and to manufacture sugar; also to hunting cattle, which was found a profitable employment, the skins and the suet turning to good account. [Sidenote: Matadores.] The Spaniards denominated their hunters Matadores, which in the Spanish language signifies killers or slaughterers. That the English, French, and Hollanders, in their early voyages to the _West Indies_, went in expectation of meeting hostility from the Spaniards, and with a determination therefore to commit hostility if they could with advantage, appears by an ingenious phrase of the French adventurers, who, if the first opportunity was in their favour, termed their profiting by it '_se dedomager par avance_.' Much of _Hispaniola_ had become desert. There were long ranges of coast, with good ports, that were unfrequented by any inhabitant whatever, and the land in every part abounded with cattle. These were such great conveniencies to the ships of the interlopers, that the Western coast, which was the most distant part from the Spanish capital, became a place of common resort to them when in want of provisions. Another great attraction to them was the encouragement they received from Spanish settlers along the coast; who, from the contracted and monopolizing spirit of their government in the management of their colonies, have at all times been eager to have communication with foreigners, that they might obtain supplies of European goods on terms less exorbitant than those which the royal regulations of _Spain_ imposed. [Sidenote: Guarda-Costas.] The government at _San Domingo_ employed armed ships to prevent clandestine trade, and to clear the coasts of _Hispaniola_ of interlopers, which ships were called _guarda costas_; and it is said their commanders were instructed not to take prisoners. On the other hand, the intruders formed combinations, came in collected numbers, and made descents on different parts of the coast, ravaging the Spanish towns and settlements. In the customary course, such transactions would have come under the cognizance of the governments in _Europe_; but matters here took a different turn. The Spaniards, when they had the upper hand, did not fail to deal out their own pleasure for law; and in like manner, the English, French, and Dutch, when masters, determined their own measure of retaliation. The different European governments were glad to avoid being involved in the settlement of disorders they had no inclination to repress. In answer to representations made by _Spain_, they said, 'that the people complained against had acted entirely on their own authority, not as the subjects of any prince, and that the King of _Spain_ was at liberty to proceed against them according to his own pleasure.' Queen Elizabeth of _England_, with more open asperity answered a complaint made by the Spanish ambassador, of Spanish ships being plundered by the English in the _West Indies_, 'That the Spaniards had drawn these inconveniencies upon themselves, by their severe and unjust dealings in their American commerce; for she did not understand why either her subjects, or those of any other European prince, should be debarred from traffic in the _Indies_. That as she did not acknowledge the Spaniards to have any title by the donation of the Bishop of _Rome_, so she knew no right they had to any places other than those they were in actual possession of; for that their having touched only here and there upon a coast, and given names to a few rivers or capes, were such insignificant things as could no ways entitle them to a propriety further than in the parts where they actually settled, and continued to inhabit[4].' A warfare was thus established between Europeans in the _West Indies_, local and confined, which had no dependence upon transactions in _Europe_. [Sidenote: Brethren of the Coast.] All Europeans not Spaniards, whether it was war or peace between their nations in _Europe_, on their meeting in the _West Indies_, regarded each other as friends and allies, knowing then no other enemy than the Spaniards; and, as a kind of public avowal of this confederation, they called themselves _Brethren of the Coast_. The first European intruders upon the Spaniards in the _West Indies_ were accordingly mariners, the greater number of whom, it is supposed, were French, and next to them the English. Their first hunting of cattle in _Hayti_, was for provisioning their ships. The time they began to form factories or establishments, to hunt cattle for the skins, and to cure the flesh as an article of traffic, is not certain; but it may be concluded that these occupations were began by the crews of wrecked vessels, or by seamen who had disagreed with their commander; and that the ease, plenty, and freedom from all command and subordination, enjoyed in such a life, soon drew others to quit their ships, and join in the same occupations. The ships that touched on the coast supplied the hunters with European commodities, for which they received in return hides, tallow, and cured meat. The appellation of _Boucanier_ or _Buccaneer_ was not invented, or at least not applied to these adventurers, till long after their first footing in _Hayti_. At the time of Oxnam's expedition across the _Isthmus of America_ to the _South Sea_, A. D. 1575, it does not appear to have been known. There is no particular account of the events which took place on the coasts of _Hispaniola_ in the early part of the contest between the Spaniards and the new settlers. It is however certain, that it was a war of the severest retaliation; and in this disorderly state was continued the intercourse of the English, French, and Dutch with the _West Indies_, carried on by individuals neither authorized nor controlled by their governments, for more than a century. In 1586, the English Captain, Francis Drake, plundered the city of _San Domingo_; and the numbers of the English and French in the _West Indies_ increased so much, that shortly afterwards the Spaniards found themselves necessitated to abandon all the Western and North-western parts of _Hispaniola_. CHAP. IV. _Iniquitous Settlement of the Island =Saint Christopher= by the =English= and =French=. =Tortuga= seized by the Hunters. Origin of the name =Buccaneer=. The name =Flibustier=. Customs attributed to the =Buccaneers=._ The increase of trade of the English and French to the _West Indies_, and the growing importance of the freebooters or adventurers concerned in it, who, unassisted but by each other, had begun to acquire territory and to form establishments in spite of all opposition from the Spaniards, attracted the attention of the British and French governments, and suggested to them a scheme of confederacy, in which some of the principal adventurers were consulted. The project adopted by them was, to plant a royal colony of each nation, on some one island, and at the same time; by which a constant mutual support would be secured. In as far as regarded the concerns of Europeans with each other, this plan was unimpeachable. The Island chosen by the projectors, as the best suited to their purpose, was one of the _Small Antilles_ or _Caribbee Islands_, known by the name of _St. Christopher_, which is in length about seven leagues, and in breadth two and a half. [Sidenote: 1625. The Island Saint Christopher settled by the English and French.] Thus the governments of _Great Britain_ and _France_, like friendly fellow-travellers, and not like rivals who were to contend in a race, began their West-Indian career by joint consent at the same point both in time and place. In the year 1625, and on the same day, a colony of British and a colony of French, in the names and on the behalf of their respective nations, landed on this small island, the division of which had been settled by previous agreement. The Island _St. Christopher_ was at that time inhabited by Caribbe Indians. The Spaniards had never possessed a settlement on it, but their ships had been accustomed to stop there, to traffic for provisions and refreshments. The French and English who came to take possession, landed without obtaining the consent of the native Caribbe inhabitants; and, because danger was apprehended from their discontent, under pretence that the Caribbs were friends to the Spaniards, these new colonists fell upon them by surprise in the night, killed their principal leaders, and forced the rest to quit the Island and seek another home. De Rochefort, in his _Histoire Morale des Isles Antilles_ (p. 284.) mentions the English and French killing the Caribb Chiefs, in the following terms: '_Ils se defirent en une nuit de tous les plus factieux de cette nation!_' Thus in usurpation and barbarity was founded the first colony established under the authority of the British and French governments in the _West Indies_; which colony was the parent of our African slave trade. When accounts of the conquest and of the proceedings at _Saint Christopher_ were transmitted to _Europe_, they were approved; West-India companies were established, and licences granted to take out colonists. De Rochefort has oddly enough remarked, that the French, English, and Dutch, in their first establishments in the _West Indies_, did not follow the cruel maxims of the Spaniards. True it is, however, that they only copied in part. In their usurpations their aim went no farther than to dispossess, and they did not seek to make slaves of the people whom they deprived of their land. The English and French in a short time had disagreements, and began to make complaints of each other. The English took possession of the small Island _Nevis_, which is separated only by a narrow channel from the South end of _St. Christopher_. P. Charlevoix says, 'the ambition of the English disturbed the good understanding between the colonists of the two nations; but M. de Cusac arriving with a squadron of the French King's ships, by taking and sinking some British ships lying there, brought the English Governor to reason, and to confine himself to the treaty of Partition.' [Sidenote: 1629. The English and French driven from Saint Christopher by the Spaniards.] After effecting this amicable adjustment, De Cusac sailed from _St. Christopher_; and was scarcely clear of the Island when a powerful fleet, consisting of thirty-nine large ships, arrived from _Spain_, and anchored in the Road. Almost without opposition the Spaniards became masters of the Island, although the English and French, if they had cordially joined, could have mustered a force of twelve hundred men. Intelligence that the Spaniards intended this attack, had been timely received in _France_; and M. de Cusac's squadron had in consequence been dispatched to assist in the defence of _St. Christopher_; but the Spaniards being slow in their preparations, their fleet did not arrive at the time expected, and De Cusac, hearing no news of them, presumed that they had given up their design against _St. Christopher_. Without strengthening the joint colony, he gave the English a lesson on moderation, little calculated to incline them to co-operate heartily with the French in defence of the Island, and sailed on a cruise to the _Gulf of Mexico_. Shortly after his departure, towards the end of the year 1629, the Spanish fleet arrived. The colonists almost immediately despaired of being able to oppose so great a force. Many of the French embarked in their ships in time to effect their escape, and to take refuge among the islands northward. The remainder, with the English, lay at the disposal of the Spanish commander, Don Frederic de _Toledo_. At this time _Spain_ was at war with _England_, _France_, and _Holland_; and this armament was designed ultimately to act against the Hollanders in _Brasil_, but was ordered by the way to drive the English and the French from the Island of _Saint Christopher_. Don Frederic would not weaken his force by leaving a garrison there, and was in haste to prosecute his voyage to _Brasil_. As the settlement of _Saint Christopher_ had been established on regular government authorities, the settlers were treated as prisoners of war. To clear the Island in the most speedy manner, Don Frederic took many of the English on board his own fleet, and made as many of the other colonists embark as could be crowded in any vessels which could be found for them. He saw them get under sail, and leave the Island; and from those who remained, he required their parole, that they would depart by the earliest opportunity which should present itself, warning them, at the same time, that if, on his return from _Brasil_, he found any Englishmen or Frenchmen at _Saint Christopher_, they should be put to the sword. [Sidenote: 1630. They return.] After this, he sailed for _Brasil_. As soon, however, as it was known that the Spanish fleet had left the West-Indian sea, the colonists, both English and French, returned to _Saint Christopher_, and repossessed themselves of their old quarters. The settlement of the Island _Saint Christopher_ gave great encouragement to the hunters on the West coast of _Hispaniola_. Their manufactories for the curing of meat, and for drying the skins, multiplied; and as the value of them increased, they began to think it of consequence to provide for their security. [Sidenote: The Island Tortuga seized by the English and French Hunters.] To this end they took possession of the small Island _Tortuga_, near the North-west end of _Hispaniola_, where the Spaniards had placed a garrison, but which was too small to make opposition. There was a road for shipping, with good anchorage, at _Tortuga_; and its separation from the main land of _Hispaniola_ seemed to be a good guarantee from sudden and unexpected attack. They built magazines there, for the lodgement of their goods, and regarded this Island as their head quarters, or place of general rendezvous to which to repair in times of danger. They elected no chief, erected no fortification, set up no authorities, nor fettered themselves by any engagement. All was voluntary; and they were negligently contented at having done so much towards their security. [Sidenote: Whence the Name Buccaneer.] About the time of their taking possession of _Tortuga_, they began to be known by the name of Buccaneers, of which appellation it will be proper to speak at some length. The flesh of the cattle killed by the hunters, was cured to keep good for use, after a manner learnt from the Caribbe Indians, which was as follows: The meat was laid to be dried upon a wooden grate or hurdle (_grille de bois_) which the Indians called _barbecu_, placed at a good distance over a slow fire. The meat when cured was called _boucan_, and the same name was given to the place of their cookery. Père Labat describes _Viande boucannée_ to be, _Viande seché a petit feu et a la fumée_. The Caribbes are said to have sometimes served their prisoners after this fashion, '_Ils les mangent après les avoir bien boucannée, c'est a dire, rotis bien sec_[5].' The boucan was a very favourite method of cooking among these Indians. A Caribbe has been known, on returning home from fishing, fatigued and pressed with hunger, to have had the patience to wait the roasting of a fish on a wooden grate fixed two feet above the ground, over a fire so small as sometimes to require the whole day to dress it[6]. The flesh of the cattle was in general dried in the smoke, without being salted. The _Dictionnaire de Trevoux_ explains _Boucaner_ to be '_faire sorer sans sel_,' to dry red without salt. But the flesh of wild hogs, and also of the beeves when intended for keeping a length of time, was first salted. The same thing was practised among the Brasilians. It was remarked in one of the earliest visits of the Portuguese to _Brasil_, that the natives (who were cannibals) kept human flesh salted and smoked, hanging up in their houses[7]. The meat cured by the Buccaneers to sell to shipping for sea-store, it is probable was all salted. The process is thus described: 'The bones being taken out, the flesh was cut into convenient pieces and salted, and the next day was taken to the _boucan_.' Sometimes, to give a peculiar relish to the meat, the skin of the animal was cast into the fire under it. The meat thus cured was of a fine red colour, and of excellent flavour; but in six months after it was boucanned, it had little taste left, except of salt. The boucanned hog's flesh continued good a much longer time than the flesh of the beeves, if kept in dry places. From adopting the boucan of the Caribbes, the hunters in _Hispaniola_, the Spaniards excepted, came to be called Boucaniers, but afterwards, according to a pronunciation more in favour with the English, Buccaneers[8]. Many of the French hunters were natives of _Normandy_; whence it became proverbial in some of the sea-ports of _Normandy_ to say of a smoky house, _c'est un vrai Boucan_. [Sidenote: The name Flibustier.] The French Buccaneers and Adventurers were also called Flibustiers, and more frequently by that than by any other name. The word Flibustier is merely the French mariner's mode of pronouncing the English word Freebooter, a name which long preceded that of Boucanier or Buccaneer, as the occupation of cruising against the Spaniards preceded that of hunting and curing meat. Some authors have given a derivation to the name _Flibustier_ from the word Flyboat, because, say they, the French hunters in _Hispaniola_ bought vessels of the Dutch, called Flyboats, to cruise upon the Spaniards. There are two objections to this derivation. First, the word _flyboat_, is only an English translation of the Dutch word _fluyt_, which is the proper denomination of the vessel intended by it. Secondly, it would not very readily occur to any one to purchase Dutch fluyts, or flyboats, for chasing vessels. Some have understood the Boucanier and Flibustier to be distinct both in person and character[9]. This was probably the case with a few, after the settlement of _Tortuga_; but before, and very generally afterwards, the occupations were joined, making one of amphibious character. Ships from all parts of the _West Indies_ frequented _Tortuga_, and it continually happened that some among the crews quitted their ships to turn Buccaneers; whilst among the Buccaneers some would be desirous to quit their hunting employment, to go on a cruise, to make a voyage, or to return to _Europe_. The two occupations of hunting and cruising being so common to the same person, caused the names Flibustier and Buccaneer to be esteemed synonimous, signifying always and principally the being at war with the Spaniards. The Buccaneer and Flibustier therefore, as long as they continued in a state of independence, are to be considered as the same character, exercising sometimes one, sometimes the other employment; and either name was taken by them indifferently, whether they were employed on the sea or on the land. But a fanciful kind of inversion took place, through the different caprices of the French and English adventurers. The greater part of the first cattle hunters were French, and the greater number of the first cruisers against the Spaniards were English. The French adventurers, nevertheless, had a partiality for the name of Flibustier; whilst the English shewed a like preference for the name of Buccaneer, which, as will be seen, was assumed by many hundred seamen of their nation, who were never employed either in hunting or in the boucan. [Sidenote: Customs attributed to the Buccaneers.] A propensity to make things which are extraordinary appear more so, has caused many peculiar customs to be attributed to the Buccaneers, which, it is pretended, were observed as strictly as if they had been established laws. It is said that every Buccaneer had his chosen and declared comrade, between whom property was in common, and if one died, the survivor was inheritor of the whole. This was called by the French _Matelotage_. It is however acknowledged that the _Matelotage_ was not a compulsatory regulation; and that the Buccaneers sometimes bequeathed by will. A general right of participation in some things, among which was meat for present consumption, was acknowledged among them; and it is said, that bolts, locks, and every species of fastening, were prohibited, it being held that the use of such securities would have impeached the honour of their vocation. Yet on commencing Buccaneer, it was customary with those who were of respectable lineage, to relinquish their family name, and assume some other, as a _nom de guerre_. Their dress, which was uniformly slovenly when engaged in the business of hunting or of the boucan, is mentioned as a prescribed _costume_, but which doubtless was prescribed only by their own negligence and indolence; in particular, that they wore an unwashed shirt and pantaloons dyed in the blood of the animals they had killed. Other distinctions, equally capricious, and to little purpose, are related, which have no connexion with their history. Some curious anecdotes are produced, to shew the great respect some among them entertained for religion and for morality. A certain Flibustier captain, named Daniel, shot one of his crew in the church, for behaving irreverently during the performance of mass. Raveneau de Lussan (whose adventures will be frequently mentioned) took the occupation of a Buccaneer, because he was in debt, and wished, as every honest man should do, to have wherewithal to satisfy his creditors. In their sea enterprises, they followed most of the customs which are generally observed in private ships of war; and sometimes were held together by a subscribed written agreement, by the English called Charter-party; by the French _Chasse-partie_, which might in this case be construed a Chasing agreement. Whenever it happened that _Spain_ was at open and declared war with any of the maritime nations of _Europe_, the Buccaneers who were natives of the country at war with her, obtained commissions, which rendered the vessels in which they cruised, regular privateers. The English adventurers sometimes, as is seen in Dampier, called themselves Privateers, applying the term to persons in the same manner we now apply it to private ships of war. The Dutch, whose terms are generally faithful to the meaning intended, called the adventurers _Zee Roovers_; the word _roover_ in the Dutch language comprising the joint sense of the two English words rover and robber. CHAP. V. _Treaty made by the Spaniards with Don =Henriquez=. Increase of English and French in the =West Indies=. =Tortuga= surprised by the Spaniards. Policy of the English and French Governments with respect to the Buccaneers. =Mansvelt=, his attempt to form an independent Buccaneer Establishment. French West-India Company. =Morgan= succeeds =Mansvelt= as Chief of the Buccaneers._ [Sidenote: 1630.] The Spanish Government at length began to think it necessary to relax from their large pretensions, and in the year 1630 entered into treaties with other European nations, for mutual security of their West-India possessions. In a Treaty concluded that year with _Great Britain_, it was declared, that peace, amity, and friendship, should be observed between their respective subjects, in all parts of the world. But this general specification was not sufficient to produce effect in the _West Indies_. [Sidenote: 1633.] In _Hispaniola_, in the year 1633, the Government at _San Domingo_ concluded a treaty with Don Henriquez; which was the more readily accorded to him, because it was apprehended the revolted natives would league with the Brethren of the Coast. By this treaty all the followers of Don Henriquez who could claim descent from the original natives, in number four thousand persons, were declared free and under his protection, and lands were marked out for them. But, what is revolting to all generous hopes of human nature, the negroes were abandoned to the Spaniards. Magnanimity was not to be expected of the natives of _Hayti_; yet they had shewn themselves capable of exertion for their own relief; and a small degree more of firmness would have included these, their most able champions, in the treaty. This weak and wicked defection from friends, confederated with them in one common and righteous cause, seems to have wrought its own punishment. The vigilance and vigour of mind of the negro might have guarded against encroachments upon the independence obtained; instead of which, the wretched Haytians in a short time fell again wholly into the grinding hands of the Spaniards: and in the early part of the eighteenth century, it was reckoned that the whole number living, of the descendants of the party of Don Henriquez, did not quite amount to one hundred persons. [Sidenote: Cultivation in Tortuga.] The settlement of the Buccaneers at _Tortuga_ drew many Europeans there, as well settlers as others, to join in their adventures and occupations. They began to clear and cultivate the grounds, which were before overgrown with woods, and made plantations of tobacco, which proved to be of extraordinary good quality. [Sidenote: Increase of the English and French Settlements in the West Indies.] More Europeans, not Spaniards, consequently allies of the Buccaneers, continued to pour into the _West Indies_, and formed settlements on their own accounts, on some of the islands of the small _Antilles_. These settlements were not composed of mixtures of different people, but were most of them all English or all French; and as they grew into prosperity, they were taken possession of for the crowns of _England_ or of _France_ by the respective governments. Under the government authorities new colonists were sent out, royal governors were appointed, and codes of law established, which combined, with the security of the colony, the interests of the mother-country. But at the same time these benefits were conferred, grants of lands were made under royal authority, which dispossessed many persons, who, by labour and perilous adventure, and some who at considerable expence, had achieved establishments for themselves, in favour of men till then no way concerned in any of the undertakings. In some cases, grants of whole islands were obtained, by purchase or favour; and the first settlers, who had long before gained possession, and who had cleared and brought the ground into a state for cultivation, were rendered dependent upon the new proprietary governors, to whose terms they were obliged to submit, or to relinquish their tenure. Such were the hard accompaniments to the protection afforded by the governments of _France_ and _Great Britain_ to colonies, which, before they were acknowledged legitimate offsprings of the mother-country, had grown into consideration through their own exertions; and only because they were found worth adopting, were now received into the parent family. The discontents created by this rapacious conduct of the governments, and the disregard shewn to the claims of the first settlers, instigated some to resistance and rebellion, and caused many to join the Buccaneers. The Caribbe inhabitants were driven from their lands also with as little ceremony. The Buccaneer colony at _Tortuga_ had not been beheld with indifference by the Spaniards. [Sidenote: 1638.] The Buccaneers, with the carelessness natural to men in their loose condition of life, under neither command nor guidance, continued to trust to the supineness of the enemy for their safety, and neglected all precaution. [Sidenote: Tortuga surprised by the Spaniards.] In the year 1638, the Spaniards with a large force fell unexpectedly upon _Tortuga_, at a time when the greater number of the settlers were absent in _Hispaniola_ on the chace; and those who were on the Island, having neither fortress nor government, became an easy prey to the Spaniards, who made a general massacre of all who fell into their hands, not only of those they surprised in the beginning, but many who afterwards came in from the woods to implore their lives on condition of returning to _Europe_, they hanged. A few kept themselves concealed, till they found an opportunity to cross over to their brethren in _Hispaniola_. It happened not to suit the convenience of the Spaniards to keep a garrison at _Tortuga_, and they were persuaded the Buccaneers would not speedily again expose themselves to a repetition of such treatment as they had just experienced; therefore they contented themselves with destroying the buildings, and as much as they could of the plantations; after which they returned to _San Domingo_. In a short time after their departure, the remnant of the Hunters collected to the number of three hundred, again fixed themselves at _Tortuga_, and, for the first time, elected a commander. As the hostility of the Buccaneers had constantly and solely been directed against the Spaniards, all other Europeans in the _West Indies_ regarded them as champions in the common cause, and the severities which had been exercised against them created less of dread than of a spirit of vengeance. The numbers of the Buccaneers were quickly recruited by volunteers of English, French, and Dutch, from all parts; and both the occupations of hunting and cruising were pursued with more than usual eagerness. The French and English Governors in the _West Indies_, influenced by the like feelings, either openly, or by connivance, gave constant encouragement to the Buccaneers. The French Governor at _St. Christopher_, who was also Governor General for the French West-India Islands, was most ready to send assistance to the Buccaneers. This Governor, Monsieur de Poincy, an enterprising and capable man, had formed a design to take possession of the Island _Tortuga_ for the crown of _France_; which he managed to put in execution three years after, having by that time predisposed some of the principal French Buccaneers to receive a garrison of the French king's troops. [Sidenote: Tortuga taken possession of for the Crown of France.] This appropriation was made in 1641; and De Poincy, thinking his acquisition would be more secure to _France_ by the absence of the English, forced all the English Buccaneers to quit the Island. The French writers say, that before the interposition of the French Governor, the English Buccaneers took advantage of their numbers, and domineered in _Tortuga_. The English Governors in the _West Indies_ could not at this time shew the same tender regard for the English Buccaneers, as the support they received from home was very precarious, owing to the disputes which then subsisted in _England_ between King Charles and the English Parliament, which engrossed so much of the public attention as to leave little to colonial concerns. The French Commander de Poincy pushed his success. In his appointment of a Governor to _Tortuga_, he added the title of Governor of the West coast of _Hispaniola_, and by degrees he introduced French garrisons. This was the first footing obtained by the Government of _France_ in _Hispaniola_. The same policy was observed there respecting the English as at _Tortuga_, by which means was effected a separation of the English Buccaneers from the French. After this time, it was only occasionally, and from accidental circumstances, or by special agreement, that they acted in concert. The English adventurers, thus elbowed out of _Hispaniola_ and _Tortuga_, lost the occupation of hunting cattle and of the boucan, but they continued to be distinguished by the appellation of Buccaneers, and, when not cruising, most generally harboured at the Islands possessed by the British. Hitherto, it had rested in the power of the Buccaneers to have formed themselves into an independent state. Being composed of people of different nations, the admission of a Governor from any one, might easily have been resisted. Now, they were considered in a kind of middle state, between that of Buccaneers and of men returned to their native allegiance. It seemed now in the power of the English and French Governments to put a stop to their cruisings, and to furnish them with more honest employment; but politics of a different cast prevailed. The Buccaneers were regarded as profitable to the Colonies, on account of the prizes they brought in; and even vanity had a share in their being countenanced. [Sidenote: Policy of the English and French Governments with respect to the Buccaneers.] The French authors call them _nos braves_, and the English speak of their 'unparalleled exploits.' The policy both of _England_ and of _France_ with respect to the Buccaneers, seems to have been well described in the following sentence: _On laissoit faire des Avanturiers, qu'on pouvoit toujours desavouer, mais dont les succes pouvoient etre utiles_: _i. e._ 'they connived at the actions of these Adventurers, which could always be disavowed, and whose successes might be serviceable.' This was not esteemed _friponnerie_, but a maxim of sound state policy. In the character given of a good French West-India governor, he is praised, for that, 'besides encouraging the cultivation of lands, he never neglected to encourage the _Flibustiers_. It was a certain means of improving the Colony, by attracting thither the young and enterprising. He would scarcely receive a slight portion of what he was entitled to from his right of bestowing commissions in time of war[10]. And when we were at peace, and our Flibustiers, for want of other employment, would go cruising, and would carry their prizes to the English Islands, he was at the pains of procuring them commissions from _Portugal_, which country was then at war with _Spain_; in virtue of which our _Flibustiers_ continued to make themselves redoubtable to the Spaniards, and to spread riches and abundance in our Colonies.' This panegyric was bestowed by Père Labat; who seems to have had more of national than of moral or religious feeling on this head. It was a powerful consideration with the French and English Governments, to have at their occasional disposal, without trouble or expence, a well trained military force, always at hand, and willing to be employed upon emergency; who required no pay nor other recompense for their services and constant readiness, than their share of plunder, and that their piracies upon the Spaniards should pass unnoticed. [Sidenote: 1644.] Towards the end of 1644, a new Governor General for the French West-India possessions was appointed by the French Regency (during the minority of Louis XIV.); but the Commander de Poincy did not choose to resign, and the colonists were inclined to support him. Great discontents prevailed in the French Colonies, which rendered them liable to being shaken by civil wars; and the apprehensions of the Regency on this head enabled De Poincy to stand his ground. He remained Governor General over the French Colonies not only for the time, but was continued in that office, by succeeding administrations, many years. [Sidenote: 1654. The Buccaneers plunder New Segovia.] About the year 1654, a large party of Buccaneers, French and English, joined in an expedition on the Continent. They ascended a river of the _Mosquito shore_, a small distance on the South side of _Cape Gracias a Dios_, in canoes; and after labouring nearly a month against a strong stream and waterfalls, they left their canoes, and marched to the town of _Nueva Segovia_, which they plundered, and then returned down the river. [Sidenote: The Spaniards retake Tortuga. 1655. With the assistance of the Buccaneers, the English take Jamaica: 1660; And the French retake Tortuga.] In the same year, the Spaniards took _Tortuga_ from the French. In the year following, 1655, _England_ being at war with _Spain_, a large force was sent from _England_ to attempt the conquest of the Island _Hispaniola_. In this attempt they failed; but afterwards fell upon _Jamaica_, of which Island they made themselves masters, and kept possession. In the conquest of _Jamaica_, the English were greatly assisted by the Buccaneers; and a few years after, with their assistance also, the French regained possession of _Tortuga_. On the recovery of _Tortuga_, the French Buccaneers greatly increased in the Northern and Western parts of _Hispaniola_. _Spain_ also sent large reinforcements from _Europe_; and for some years war was carried on with great spirit and animosity on both sides. During the heat of this contest, the French Buccaneers followed more the occupation of hunting, and less that of cruising, than at any other period of their history. The Spaniards finding they could not expel the French from _Hispaniola_, determined to join their efforts to those of the French hunters, for the destruction of the cattle and wild hogs on the Island, so as to render the business of hunting unproductive. But the French had begun to plant; and the depriving them of the employment of hunting, drove them to other occupations not less contrary to the interest and wishes of the Spaniards. The less profit they found in the chase, the more they became cultivators and cruisers. [Sidenote: Pierre le Grand, a French Buccaneer.] The Buccaneer Histories of this period abound with relations: of daring actions performed by them; but many of which are chiefly remarkable for the ferocious cruelty of the leaders by whom they were conducted. Pierre, a native of _Dieppe_, for his success received to his name the addition of _le grand_, and is mentioned as one of the first Flibustiers who obtained much notoriety. In a boat, with a crew of twenty-eight men, he surprised and took the Ship of the Vice-Admiral of the Spanish galeons, as she was sailing homeward-bound with a rich freight. He set the Spanish crew on shore at _Cape Tiburon_, the West end of _Hispaniola_, and sailed in his prize to _France_. [Sidenote: Alexandre.] A Frenchman, named Alexandre, also in a small vessel, took a Spanish ship of war. [Sidenote: Montbars, surnamed the Exterminator.] It is related of another Frenchman, a native of _Languedoc_, named Montbars, that on reading a history of the cruelty of the Spaniards to the Americans, he conceived such an implacable hatred against the Spaniards, that he determined on going to the _West Indies_ to join the Buccaneers; and that he there pursued his vengeance with so much ardour as to acquire the surname of the Exterminator. [Sidenote: Bartolomeo Portuguez.] One Buccaneer of some note was a native of _Portugal_, known by the name of Bartolomeo Portuguez; who, however, was more renowned for his wonderful escapes, both in battle, and from the gallows, than for his other actions. [Sidenote: L'Olonnois, a French Buccaneer, and Michel le Basque, take Maracaibo and Gibraltar.] But no one of the Buccaneers hitherto named, arrived at so great a degree of notoriety, as a Frenchman, called François L'Olonnois, a native of part of the French coast which is near the sands of _Olonne_, but whose real name is not known. This man, and Michel le Basque, both Buccaneer commanders, at the head of 650 men, took the towns of _Maracaibo_ and _Gibraltar_ in the _Gulf of Venezuela_, on the _Tierra Firma_. The booty they obtained by the plunder and ransom of these places, was estimated at 400,000 crowns. The barbarities practised on the prisoners could not be exceeded. [Sidenote: Outrages committed by L'Olonnois.] Olonnois was possessed with an ambition to make himself renowned for being terrible. At one time, it is said, he put the whole crew of a Spanish ship, ninety men, to death, performing himself the office of executioner, by beheading them. He caused the crews of four other vessels to be thrown into the sea; and more than once, in his frenzies, he tore out the hearts of his victims, and devoured them. Yet this man had his encomiasts; so much will loose notions concerning glory, aided by a little partiality, mislead even sensible men. Père Charlevoix says, _Celui de tous, dont les grandes actions illustrerent davantage les premieres années du gouvernement de M. d'Ogeron, fut l'Olonnois. Ses premiers succès furent suivis de quelques malheurs, qui ne servirent qu'à donner un nouveau lustre à sa gloire._ The career of this savage was terminated by the Indians of the coast of _Darien_, on which he had landed. [Sidenote: Mansvelt, a Buccaneer Chief; his Plan for forming a Buccaneer Establishment. 1664.] The Buccaneers now went in such formidable numbers, that several Spanish towns, both on the Continent and among the Islands of the _West Indies_, submitted to pay them contribution. And at this time, a Buccaneer commander, named Mansvelt, more provident and more ambitious in his views than any who preceded him, formed a project for founding an independent Buccaneer establishment. Of what country Mansvelt was native, does not appear; but he was so popular among the Buccaneers, that both French and English were glad to have him for their leader. The greater number of his followers in his attempt to form a settlement were probably English, as he fitted out in _Jamaica_. A Welshman, named Henry Morgan, who had made some successful cruises as a Buccaneer, went with him as second in command. [Sidenote: Island S^{ta} Katalina, or Providence; since named Old Providence.] The place designed by them for their establishment, was an Island named _S^{ta} Katalina_, or _Providence_, situated in latitude 13° 24' N, about 40 leagues to the Eastward of the _Mosquito shore_. This Island is scarcely more than two leagues in its greatest extent, but has a harbour capable of being easily fortified against an enemy; and very near to its North end is a much smaller Island. The late Charts assign the name of _S^{ta} Katalina_ to the small Island, and give to the larger Island that of _Old Providence_, the epithet _Old_ having been added to distinguish this from the _Providence_ of the _Bahama Islands_. At the time Mansvelt undertook his scheme of settlement, this _S^{ta} Katalina_, or _Providence Island_, was occupied by the Spaniards, who had a fort and good garrison there. Some time in or near the year 1664, Mansvelt sailed thither from _Jamaica_, with fifteen vessels and 500 men. He assaulted and took the fort, which he garrisoned with one hundred Buccaneers and all the slaves he had taken, and left the command to a Frenchman, named Le Sieur Simon. At the end of his cruise, he returned to _Jamaica_, intending to procure there recruits for his Settlement of _S^{ta} Katalina_; but the Governor of _Jamaica_, however friendly to the Buccaneers whilst they made _Jamaica_ their home, saw many reasons for disliking Mansvelt's plan, and would not consent to his raising men. [Sidenote: Death of Mansvelt.] Not being able to overcome the Governor's unwillingness, Mansvelt sailed for _Tortuga_, to try what assistance he could procure there; but in the passage he was suddenly taken ill, and died. For a length of time after, Simon remained at _S^{ta} Katalina_ with his garrison, in continual expectation of seeing or hearing from Mansvelt; instead of which, a large Spanish force arrived and besieged his fort, when, learning of Mansvelt's death, and seeing no prospect of receiving reinforcement or relief, he found himself obliged to surrender. [Sidenote: French West-India Company.] The government in _France_ had appointed commissioners on behalf of the French West-India Company, to take all the Islands called the _French Antilles_, out of the hands of individuals, subjects of _France_, who had before obtained possession, and to put them into the possession of the said Company, to be governed according to such provisions as they should think proper. [Sidenote: 1665.] In February 1665, M. d'Ogeron was appointed Governor of _Tortuga_, and of the French settlements in _Hispaniola_, or _St. Domingo_, as the Island was now more commonly called. [Sidenote: The French settlers dispute their authority.] On his arrival at _Tortuga_, the French adventurers, both there and in _Hispaniola_, declared that if he came to govern in the name of the King of _France_, he should find faithful and obedient subjects; but they would not submit themselves to any Company; and in no case would they consent to the prohibiting their trade with the Hollanders, 'with whom,' said the Buccaneers, 'we have been in the constant habit of trading, and were so before it was known in _France_ that there was a single Frenchman in _Tortuga_, or on the coast of _St. Domingo_.' [Sidenote: 1665-7.] M. d'Ogeron had recourse to dissimulation to allay these discontents. He yielded consent to the condition respecting the commerce with the Dutch, fully resolved not to observe it longer than till his authority should be sufficiently established for him to break it with safety; and to secure the commerce within his government exclusively to the French West-India Company, who, when rid of all competitors, would be able to fix their own prices. It was not long before M. d'Ogeron judged the opportunity was arrived for effecting this revocation without danger; but it caused a revolt of the French settlers in _St. Domingo_, which did not terminate without bloodshed and an execution; and so partial as well as defective in principle were the historians who have related the fact, that they have at the same time commended M. d'Ogeron for his probity and simple manners. In the end, he prevailed in establishing a monopoly for the Company, to the injury of his old companions the French Buccaneers, with whom he had at a former period associated, and who had been his benefactors in a time of his distress. [Sidenote: Morgan succeeds Mansvelt; plunders Puerto del Principe.] On the death of Mansvelt, Morgan was regarded as the most capable and most fortunate leader of any of the _Jamaica_ Buccaneers. With a body of several hundred men, who placed themselves under his command, he took and plundered the town of _Puerto del Principe_ in _Cuba_. A quarrel happened at this place among the Buccaneers, in which a Frenchman was treacherously slain by an Englishman. The French took to arms, to revenge the death of their countryman; but Morgan pacified them by putting the murderer in irons, and promising he should be delivered up to justice on their return to _Jamaica_; which was done, and the criminal was hanged. But in some other respects, the French were not so well satisfied with Morgan for their commander, as they had been with Mansvelt. Morgan was a great rogue, and little respected the old proverb of, Honour among Thieves: this had been made manifest to the French, and almost all of them separated from him. [Sidenote: 1667. Maracaibo again pillaged. 1668. Morgan takes Porto Bello: Exercises great Cruelty.] _Maracaibo_ was now a second time pillaged by the French Buccaneers, under Michel le Basque. Morgan's next undertaking was against _Porto Bello_, one of the principal and best fortified ports belonging to the Spaniards in the _West Indies_. He had under his command only 460 men; but not having revealed his design to any person, he came on the town by surprise, and found it unprepared. Shocking cruelties are related to have been committed in this expedition. Among many others, that a castle having made more resistance than had been expected, Morgan, after its surrendering, shut up the garrison in it, and caused fire to be set to the magazine, destroying thereby the castle and the garrison together. In the attack of another fort, he compelled a number of religious persons, both male and female, whom he had taken prisoners, to carry and plant scaling ladders against the walls; and many of them were killed by those who defended the fort. The Buccaneers in the end became masters of the place, and the use they made of their victory corresponded with their actions in obtaining it. Many prisoners died under tortures inflicted on them to make them discover concealed treasures, whether they knew of any or not. A large ransom was also extorted for the town and prisoners. This success attracted other Buccaneers, among them the French again, to join Morgan; and by a kind of circular notice they rendezvoused in large force under his command at the _Isla de la Vaca_ (by the French called _Isle Avache_) near the SW part of _Hispaniola_. A large French Buccaneer ship was lying at _la Vaca_, which was not of this combination, the commander and crew of which refused to join with Morgan, though much solicited. Morgan was angry, but dissembled, and with a show of cordiality invited the French captain and his officers to an entertainment on board his own ship. When they were his guests, they found themselves his prisoners; and their ship, being left without officers, was taken without resistance. The men put by Morgan in charge of the ship, fell to drinking; and, whether from their drunkenness and negligence, or from the revenge of any of the prisoners, cannot be known, she suddenly blew up, by which 350 English Buccaneers, and all the Frenchmen on board her, perished. _The History of the Buccaneers of America_, in which the event is related, adds by way of remark, 'Thus was this unjust action of Captain Morgan's soon followed by divine justice; for this ship, the largest in his fleet, was blown up in the air, with 350 Englishmen and all the French prisoners.' This comment seems to have suggested to Voltaire the ridicule he has thrown on the indiscriminate manner in which men sometimes pronounce misfortune to be a peculiar judgment of God, in the dialogue he put into the mouths of Candide and Martin, on the wicked Dutch skipper being drowned. [Sidenote: 1669. Maracaibo and Gibraltar plundered by Morgan.] From _Isla de la Vaca_ Morgan sailed with his fleet to _Maracaibo_ and _Gibraltar_; which unfortunate towns were again sacked. It was a frequent practice with these desperadoes to secure their prisoners by shutting them up in churches, where it was easy to keep guard over them. This was done by Morgan at _Maracaibo_ and _Gibraltar_, and with so little care for their subsistence, that many of the prisoners were actually starved to death, whilst their merciless victors were rioting in the plunder of their houses. Morgan remained so long at _Gibraltar_, that the Spaniards had time to repair and put in order a castle at the entrance of the _Lagune of Maracaibo_; and three large Spanish ships of war arrived and took stations near the castle, by which they hoped to cut off the retreat of the pirates. [Sidenote: His Contrivances in effecting his Retreat.] The Buccaneer Histories give Morgan much credit here, for his management in extricating his fleet and prizes from their difficult situation, which is related to have been in the following manner. He converted one of his vessels into a fire-ship, but so fitted up as to preserve the appearance of a ship intended for fighting, and clumps of wood were stuck up in her, dressed with hats on, to resemble men. By means of this ship, the rest of his fleet following close at hand, he took one of the Spanish ships, and destroyed the two others. Still there remained the castle to be passed; which he effected without loss, by a stratagem which deceived the Spaniards from their guard. During the day, and in sight of the castle, he filled his boats with armed men, and they rowed from the ships to a part of the shore which was well concealed by thickets. After waiting as long as might be supposed to be occupied in the landing, all the men lay down close in the bottom of the boats, except two in each, who rowed them back, going to the sides of the ships which were farthest from the castle. This being repeated several times, caused the Spaniards to believe that the Buccaneers intended an assault by land with their whole force; and they made disposition with their cannon accordingly, leaving the side of the castle towards the sea unprovided. When it was night, and the ebb tide began to make, Morgan's fleet took up their anchors, and, without setting sail, it being moonlight, they fell down the river, unperceived, till they were nigh the castle. They then set their sails, and fired upon the castle, and before the Spaniards could bring their guns back to return the fire, the ships were past. The value of the booty made in this expedition was 250,000 pieces of eight. Some minor actions of the Buccaneers are omitted here, not being of sufficient consequence to excuse detaining the Reader, to whom will next be related one of their most remarkable exploits. CHAP. VI. _Treaty of =America=. Expedition of the Buccaneers against =Panama=. Exquemelin's History of the American Sea Rovers. Misconduct of the European Governors in the =West Indies=._ [Sidenote: 1670.] In July 1670, was concluded a Treaty between _Great Britain_ and _Spain_, made expressly with the intention of terminating the Buccaneer war, and of settling all disputes between the subjects of the two countries in _America_. It has been with this especial signification entitled the Treaty of _America_, and is the first which appears to have been dictated by a mutual disposition to establish peace in the _West Indies_. The articles particularly directed to this end are the following:-- [Sidenote: Treaty between Great Britain and Spain, called the Treaty of America.] Art. II. There shall be an universal peace and sincere friendship, as well in _America_, as in other parts, between the Kings of _Great Britain_ and _Spain_, their heirs and successors, their kingdoms, plantations, &c. III. That all hostilities, depredations, &c. shall cease between the subjects of the said Kings. IV. The two Kings shall take care that their subjects forbear all acts of hostility, and shall call in all commissions, letters of marque and reprisals, and punish all offenders, obliging them to make reparation. VII. All past injuries, on both sides, shall be buried in oblivion. VIII. The King of _Great Britain_ shall hold and enjoy all the lands, countries, &c. he is now possessed of in _America_. IX. The subjects on each side shall forbear trading or sailing to any places whatsoever under the dominion of the other, without particular licence. XIV. Particular offences shall be repaired in the common course of justice, and no reprisals made unless justice be denied, or unreasonably retarded. When notice of this Treaty was received in the _West Indies_, the Buccaneers, immediately as of one accord, resolved to undertake some grand expedition. Many occurrences had given rise to jealousies between the English and the French in the _West Indies_; but Morgan's reputation as a commander was so high, that adventurers from all parts signified their readiness to join him, and he appointed _Cape Tiburon_ on the West of _Hispaniola_ for the place of general rendezvous. In consequence of this summons, in the beginning of December 1670, a fleet was there collected under his command, consisting of no less than thirty-seven vessels of different sizes, and above 2000 men. Having so large a force, he held council with the principal commanders, and proposed for their determination, which they should attempt of the three places, _Carthagena_, _Vera Cruz_, and _Panama_. _Panama_ was believed to be the richest, and on that City the lot fell. A century before, when the name of Buccaneer was not known, roving adventurers had crossed the _Isthmus of America_ from the _West Indies_ to the _South Sea_; but the fate of Oxnam and his companions deterred others from the like attempt, until the time of the Buccaneers, who, as they increased in numbers, extended their enterprises, urged by a kind of necessity, the _West Indies_ not furnishing plunder sufficient to satisfy so many men, whose modes of expenditure were not less profligate than their means of obtaining were violent and iniquitous. [Sidenote: Expedition of the Buccaneers against Panama.] The rendezvous appointed by Morgan for meeting his confederates was distant from any authority which could prevent or impede their operations; and whilst they remained on the coast of _Hispaniola_, he employed men to hunt cattle, and cure meat. He also sent vessels to collect maize, at the settlements on the _Tierra Firma_. Specific articles of agreement were drawn up and subscribed to, for the distribution of plunder. Morgan, as commander in chief, was to receive one hundredth part; each captain was to have eight shares; provision was stipulated for the maimed and wounded, and rewards for those who should particularly distinguish themselves. [Sidenote: December. They take the Island S^{ta} Katalina.] These matters being settled, on December the 16th, the whole fleet sailed, from _Cape Tiburon_; on the 20th, they arrived at the Island _S^{ta} Katalina_, then occupied by the Spaniards, who had garrisoned it chiefly with criminals sentenced to serve there by way of punishment. Morgan had fully entered into the project of Mansvelt for forming an establishment at _S^{ta} Katalina_, and he was not the less inclined to it now that he considered himself as the head of the Buccaneers. The Island surrendered upon summons. It is related, that at the request of the Governor, in which Morgan indulged him, a military farce was performed; Morgan causing cannon charged only with powder to be fired at the fort, which returned the like fire for a decent time, and then lowered their flag. Morgan judged it would contribute to the success of the proposed expedition against _Panama_, to make himself master of the fort or castle of _San Lorenzo_ at the entrance of the _River Chagre_. For this purpose he sent a detachment of 400 men under the command of an old Buccaneer named Brodely, and in the mean time remained himself with the main body of his forces at _S^{ta} Katalina_, to avoid giving the Spaniards cause to suspect his further designs. [Sidenote: Attack of the Castle at the River Chagre.] The Castle of _Chagre_ was strong, both in its works and in situation, being built on the summit of a steep hill. It was valiantly assaulted, and no less valiantly defended. The Buccaneers were once forced to retreat. They returned to the attack, and were nearly a second time driven back, when a powder magazine in the fort blew up, and the mischief and confusion thereby occasioned gave the Buccaneers opportunity to force entrance through the breaches they had made. The Governor of the castle refused to take quarter which was offered him by the Buccaneers, as did also some of the Spanish soldiers. More than 200 men of 314 which composed the garrison were killed. The loss on the side of the Buccaneers was above 100 men killed outright, and 70 wounded. [Sidenote: 1671. January. March of the Buccaneers across the Isthmus.] On receiving intelligence of the castle being taken, Morgan repaired with the rest of his men from _S^{ta} Katalina_. He set the prisoners to work to repair the Castle of _San Lorenzo_, in which he stationed a garrison of 500 men; he also appointed 150 men to take care of the ships; and on the 18th of January 1671[11], he set forward at the head of 1200 men for _Panama_. One party with artillery and stores embarked in canoes, to mount the _River Chagre_, the course of which is extremely serpentine. At the end of the second day, however, they quitted the canoes, on account of the many obstructions from trees which had fallen in the river, and because the river was at this time in many places almost dry; but the way by land was also found so difficult for the carriage of stores, that the canoes were again resorted to. On the sixth day, when they had expended great part of their travelling store of provisions, they had the good fortune to discover a barn full of maize. They saw many native Indians, who all kept at a distance, and it was in vain endeavoured to overtake some. On the seventh day they came to a village called _Cruz_, the inhabitants of which had set fire to their houses, and fled. They found there, however, fifteen jars of Peruvian wine, and a sack of bread. The village of _Cruz_ is at the highest part of the _River Chagre_ to which boats or canoes, can arrive. It was reckoned to be eight leagues distant from _Panama_. On the ninth day of their journey, they came in sight of the _South Sea_; and here they were among fields in which cattle grazed. Towards evening, they had sight of the steeples of _Panama_. In the course of their march thus far from the Castle of _Chagre_, they lost, by being fired at from concealed places, ten men killed; and as many more were wounded. _Panama_ had not the defence of regular fortifications. Some works had been raised, but in parts the city lay open, and was to be won or defended by plain fighting. According to the Buccaneer account, the Spaniards had about 2000 infantry and 400 horse; which force, it is to be supposed, was in part composed of inhabitants and slaves. [Sidenote: 27th. The City of Panama taken.] January the 27th, early in the morning, the Buccaneers resumed their march towards the city. The Spaniards came out to meet them. In this battle, the Spaniards made use of wild bulls, which they drove upon the Buccaneers to disorder their ranks; but it does not appear to have had much effect. In the end, the Spaniards gave way, and before night, the Buccaneers were masters of the city. All that day, the Buccaneers gave no quarter, either during the battle, or afterwards. Six hundred Spaniards fell. The Buccaneers lost many men, but the number is not specified. [Sidenote: The City burnt.] One of the first precautions taken by Morgan after his victory, was to prevent drunkenness among his men: to which end, he procured to have it reported to him that all the wine in the city had been poisoned by the inhabitants; and on the ground of this intelligence, he strictly prohibited every one, under severe penalties, from tasting wine. Before they had well fixed their quarters in _Panama_, several parts of the city burst out in flames, which spread so rapidly, that in a short time many magnificent edifices built with cedar, and a great part of the city, were burnt to the ground. Whether this was done designedly, or happened accidentally, owing to the consternation of the inhabitants during the assault, has been disputed. Morgan is accused of having directed some of his people to commit this mischief, but no motive is assigned that could induce him to an act which cut off his future prospect of ransom. Morgan charged it upon the Spaniards; and it is acknowledged the Buccaneers gave all the assistance they were able to those of the inhabitants who endeavoured to stop the progress of the fire, which nevertheless continued to burn near four weeks before it was quite extinguished. Among the buildings destroyed, was a factory-house belonging to the Genoese, who then carried on the trade of supplying the Spaniards with slaves from _Africa_. The rapacity, licentiousness, and cruelty, of the Buccaneers, in their pillage of _Panama_, had no bounds. 'They spared,' says the narrative of a Buccaneer named Exquemelin, 'in these their cruelties no sex nor condition whatsoever. As to religious persons and priests, they granted them less quarter than others, unless they procured a considerable sum of money for their ransom.' Morgan sent detachments to scour the country for plunder, and to bring in prisoners from whom ransom might be extorted. Many of the inhabitants escaped with their effects by sea, and went for shelter to the Islands in the _Bay of Panama_. Morgan found a large boat lying aground in the Port, which he caused to be lanched, and manned with a numerous crew, and sent her to cruise among the Islands. A galeon, on board which the women of a convent had taken refuge, and in which money, plate, and other valuable effects, had been lodged, very narrowly escaped falling into their hands. They made prize of several vessels, one of which was well adapted for cruising. This opened a new prospect; and some of the Buccaneers began to consult how they might quit Morgan, and seek their fortunes on the _South Sea_, whence they proposed to sail, with the plunder they should obtain, by the _East Indies_ to _Europe_. But Morgan received notice of their design before it could be put in execution, and to prevent such a diminution of his force, he ordered the masts of the ship to be cut away, and all the boats or vessels lying at _Panama_ which could suit their purpose, to be burnt. [Sidenote: Feb. 24th. The Buccaneers depart from Panama.] The old city of _Panama_ is said to have contained 7000 houses, many of which were magnificent edifices built with cedar. On the 24th of February, Morgan and his men departed from its ruins, taking with them 175 mules laden with spoil, and 600 prisoners, some of them carrying burthens, and others for whose release ransom was expected. Among the latter were many women and children. These poor creatures were designedly caused to suffer extreme hunger and thirst, and kept under apprehensions of being carried to _Jamaica_ to be sold as slaves, that they might the more earnestly endeavour to procure money to be brought for their ransom. When some of the women, upon their knees and in tears, begged of Morgan to let them return to their families, his answer to them was, that 'he came not there to listen to cries and lamentations, but to seek money,' Morgan's thirst for money was not restrained to seeking it among his foes. He had a hand equally ready for that of his friends. Neither did he think his friends people to be trusted; for in the middle of the march back to _Chagre_, he drew up his men and caused them to be sworn, that they had not reserved or concealed any plunder, but had delivered all fairly into the common stock. This ceremony, it seems, was not uncustomary. 'But Captain Morgan having had experience that those loose fellows would not much stickle to swear falsely in such a case, he commanded every one to be searched; and that it might not be esteemed an affront, he permitted himself to be first searched, even to the very soles of his shoes. The French Buccaneers who had engaged on this expedition with Morgan, were not well satisfied with this new custom of searching; but their number being less than that of the English, they were forced to submit.' On arriving at _Chagre_, a division was made. The narrative says, 'every person received his portion, or rather what part thereof Captain Morgan was pleased to give him. For so it was, that his companions, even those of his own nation, complained of his proceedings; for they judged it impossible that, of so many valuable robberies, no greater share should belong to them than 200 pieces of eight _per_ head. But Captain Morgan was deaf to these, and to many other complaints of the same kind.' As Morgan was not disposed to allay the discontents of his men by coming to a more open reckoning with them, to avoid having the matter pressed upon him, he determined to withdraw from his command, 'which he did without calling any council, or bidding any one adieu; but went secretly on board his own ship, and put out to sea without giving notice, being followed only by three or four vessels of the whole fleet, who it is believed went shares with him in the greatest part of the spoil.' The rest of the Buccaneer vessels soon separated. Morgan went to _Jamaica_, and had begun to levy men to go with him to the Island _S^{ta} Katalina_, which he purposed to hold as his own, and to make it a common place of refuge for pirates; when the arrival of a new Governor at _Jamaica_, Lord John Vaughan, with orders to enforce the late treaty with _Spain_, obliged him to relinquish his plan. [Sidenote: Exquemelin's History of the Buccaneers of America.] The foregoing account of the destruction of _Panama_ by Morgan, is taken from a History of the Buccaneers of America, written originally in the Dutch language by a Buccaneer named Exquemelin, and published at Amsterdam in 1678, with the title of _De Americaensche Zee Roovers_. Exquemelin's book contains only partial accounts of the actions of some of the principal among the Buccaneers. He has set forth the valour displayed by them in the most advantageous light; but generally, what he has related is credible. His history has been translated into all the European languages, but with various additions and alterations by the translators, each of whom has inclined to maintain the military reputation of his own nation. The Spanish translation is entitled _Piratas_, and has the following short complimentary Poem prefixed, addressed to the Spanish editor and emendator:-- De Agamenôn cantó la vida Homero Y Virgilio de Eneas lo piadoso Camoes de Gama el curso presurosso Gongora el brio de Colon Velero. Tu, O Alonso! mas docto y verdadoro, Descrives del America ingenioso Lo que assalta el Pirata codicioso: Lo que defiende el Español Guerrero. The French translation is entitled _Les Avanturiers qui se sont signalez dans les Indes_, and contains actions of the French Flibustiers which are not in Exquemelin. The like has been done in the English translation, which has for title _The Bucaniers of America_. The English translator, speaking of the sacking of _Panama_, has expressed himself with a strange mixture of boasting and compunctious feeling. This account, he says, contains the unparalleled and bold exploits of Sir Henry Morgan, written by one of the Buccaneers who was present at those tragedies. It has been remarked, that the treaty of _America_ furnishes an apology for the enterprises of the Buccaneers previous to its notification; it being so worded as to admit an inference that the English and Spaniards were antecedently engaged in a continual war in _America_. [Sidenote: 1671.] The new Governor of _Jamaica_ was authorized and instructed to proclaim a general pardon, and indemnity from prosecution, for all piratical offences committed to that time; and to grant 35 acres of land to every Buccaneer who should claim the benefit of the proclamation, and would promise to apply himself to planting; a measure from which the most beneficial effects might have been expected, not to the British colonists only, but to all around, in turning a number of able men from destructive occupations to useful and productive pursuits, if it had not been made subservient to sordid views. The author of the _History of Jamaica_ says, 'This offer was intended as a lure to engage the Buccaneers to come into port with their effects, that the Governor might, and which he was directed to do, take from them the tenths and fifteenths of their booty as the dues of the Crown [and of the Colonial Government] for granting them commissions.' Those who had neglected to obtain commissions would of course have to make their peace by an increased composition. In consequence of this scandalous procedure, the Jamaica Buccaneers, to avoid being so taxed, kept aloof from _Jamaica_, and were provoked to continue their old occupations. Most of them joined the French Flibustiers at _Tortuga_. Some were afterwards apprehended at _Jamaica_, where they were brought to trial, condemned as pirates, and executed. [Sidenote: 1672.] A war which was entered into by _Great Britain_ and _France_ against _Holland_, furnished for a time employment for the Buccaneers and Flibustiers, and procured the Spaniards a short respite. [Sidenote: 1673. Flibustiers shipwrecked at Porto Rico;] In 1673, the French made an attempt to take the Island of _Curaçao_ from the Dutch, and failed. M. d'Ogeron, the Governor of _Tortuga_, intended to have joined in this expedition, for which purpose he sailed in a ship named l'Ecueil, manned with 300 Flibustiers; but in the night of the 25th of February, she ran aground among some small islands and rocks, near the North side of the Island _Porto Rico_. The people got safe to land, but were made close prisoners by the Spaniards. After some months imprisonment, M. d'Ogeron, with three others, made their escape in a canoe, and got back to _Tortuga_. The Governor General over the French West-India Islands at that time, was a M. de Baas, who sent to _Porto Rico_ to demand the deliverance of the French detained there prisoners. The Spanish Governor of _Porto Rico_ required 3000 pieces of eight to be paid for expences incurred. De Baas was unwilling to comply with the demand, and sent an agent to negociate for an abatement in the sum; but they came to no agreement. M. d'Ogeron in the mean time collected five hundred men in _Tortuga_ and _Hispaniola_, with whom he embarked in a number of small vessels to pass over to _Porto Rico_, to endeavour the release of his shipwrecked companions; but by repeated tempests, several of his flotilla were forced back, and he reached _Porto Rico_ with only three hundred men. [Sidenote: And put to death by the Spaniards.] On their landing, the Spanish Governor put to death all his French prisoners, except seventeen of the officers. Afterwards in an engagement with the Spaniards, D'Ogeron lost seventeen men, and found his strength not sufficient to force the Spaniards to terms; upon which he withdrew from _Porto Rico_, and returned to _Tortuga_. The seventeen French officers that were spared in the massacre of the prisoners, the Governor of _Porto Rico_ put on board a vessel bound for the _Tierra Firma_, with the intention of transporting them to _Peru_; but from that fate they were delivered by meeting at sea with an English Buccaneer cruiser. Thus, by the French Governor General disputing about a trifling balance, three hundred of the French Buccaneers, whilst employed for the French king's service under one of his officers, were sacrificed. CHAP. VII. _=Thomas Peche=. Attempt of =La Sound= to cross the =Isthmus of America=. Voyage of =Antonio de Vea= to the =Strait of Magalhanes=. Various Adventures of the Buccaneers, in the =West Indies=, to the year 1679._ [Sidenote: 1673. Thomas Peche.] In 1673, Thomas Peche, an Englishman, fitted out a ship in _England_ for a piratical voyage to the _South Sea_ against the Spaniards. Previous to this, Peche had been many years a Buccaneer in the _West Indies_, and therefore his voyage to the _South Sea_ is mentioned as a Buccaneer expedition; but it was in no manner connected with any enterprise in or from the _West Indies_. The only information we have of Peche's voyage is from a Spanish author, _Seixas y Lovera_; and by that it may be conjectured that Peche sailed to the _Aleutian Isles_.[12] [Sidenote: 1675.] About this time the French West-India Company was suppressed; but another Company was at the same time erected in its stead, and under the unpromising title of _Compagnie des Fermiers du domaine d'Occident_. [Sidenote: La Sound attempts to cross the Isthmus.] Since the plundering of _Panama_, the imaginations of the Buccaneers had been continually running on expeditions to the _South Sea_. This was well known to the Spaniards, and produced many forebodings and prophecies, in _Spain_ as well as in _Peru_, of great invasions both by sea and land. The alarm was increased by an attempt of a French Buccaneer, named La Sound, with a small body of men, to cross over land to the _South Sea_. La Sound got no farther than the town of _Cheapo_, and was driven back. Dampier relates, 'Before my going to the _South Seas_, I being then on board a privateer off _Portobel_, we took a packet from _Carthagena_. We opened a great many of the merchants' letters, several of which informed their correspondents of a certain prophecy that went about _Spain_ that year, the tenor of which was, _That the English privateers in the West Indies would that year open a door into the South Seas_.' [Sidenote: Voyage of Ant. de Vea to the Strait of Magalhanes.] In 1675, it was reported and believed in _Peru_, that strange ships, supposed to be Pirates, had been seen on the coast of _Chili_, and it was apprehended that they designed to form an establishment there. In consequence of this information or rumour, the Viceroy sent a ship from _Peru_, under the command of Don Antonio de Vea, accompanied with small barks as tenders, to reconnoitre the _Gulf de la Santissima Trinidada_, and to proceed thence to the West entrance of the _Strait of Magalhanes_. De Vea made examination at those places, and was convinced, from the poverty of the land, that no settlement of Europeans could be maintained there. One of the Spanish barks, with a crew of sixteen men, was wrecked on the small Islands called _Evangelists_, at the West entrance of the _Strait_. De Vea returned to _Callao_ in April 1676[13]. [Sidenote: 1676.] The cattle in _Hispaniola_ had again multiplied so much as to revive the business of hunting and the _boucan_. In 1676, some French who had habitations in the _Peninsula of Samana_ (the NE part of _Hispaniola_) made incursions on the Spaniards, and plundered one of their villages. Not long afterwards, the Spaniards learnt that in _Samana_ there were only women and children, the men being all absent on the chace; and that it would be easy to surprise not only the habitations, but the hunters also, who had a boucan at a place called the _Round Mountain_. [Sidenote: Massacre of the French in Samana.] This the Spaniards executed, and with such full indulgence to their wish to extirpate the French in _Hispaniola_, that they put to the sword every one they found at both the places. The French, in consequence of this misfortune, strengthened their fortifications at _Cape François_, and made it their principal establishment in the Island. [Sidenote: 1678. French Fleet wrecked on the Isles de Aves.] In 1678, the French again undertook an expedition against the Dutch Island _Curaçao_, with a large fleet of the French king's ships, under the command of Admiral the Count d'Etrées. The French Court were so earnest for the conquest of _Curaçao_, to wipe off the disgrace of the former failure, that the Governor of _Tortuga_ was ordered to raise 1200 men to join the Admiral d'Etrées. The king's troops within his government did not exceed 300 men; nevertheless, the Governor collected the number required, the Flibustiers willingly engaging in the expedition. Part of them embarked on board the king's ships, and part in their own cruising vessels. By mistake in the navigation, d'Etrées ran ashore in the middle of the night on some small Isles to the East of _Curaçao_, called _de Aves_, which are surrounded with breakers, and eighteen of his ships, besides some of the Flibustier vessels, were wrecked. The crews were saved, excepting about 300 men. The _Curaçao_ expedition being thus terminated, the Flibustiers who had engaged in it, after saving as much as they could of the wrecks, went on expeditions of their own planning, to seek compensation for their disappointment and loss. [Sidenote: Granmont.] Some landed on _Cuba_, and pillaged _Puerto del Principe_. One party, under Granmont, a leader noted for the success of his enterprises, went to the Gulf of _Venezuela_, and the ill-fated towns _Maracaibo_ and _Gibraltar_ were again plundered; but what the Buccaneers obtained was not of much value. In August this year, _France_ concluded a treaty of peace with _Spain_ and _Holland_. The Government in _Jamaica_ had by this time relapsed to its former propensities, and again encouraged the Buccaneers, and shared in their gains. One crew of Buccaneers carried there a vessel taken from the Spaniards, the cargo of which produced for each man's share to the value of 400_l._ After disposing of the cargo, they burnt the vessel; and 'having paid the Governor his duties, they embarked for _England_, where,' added the author, 'some of them live in good reputation to this day[14].' As long as the war had lasted between _France_ and _Spain_, the French Buccaneers had the advantage of being lawful privateers. An English Buccaneer relates, 'We met a French private ship of war, mounting eight guns, who kept in our company some days. Her commission was only for three months. We shewed him our commission, which was for three years to come. This we had purchased at a cheap rate, having given for it only ten pieces of eight; but the truth of the thing was, that our commission was made out at first only for three months, the same date as the Frenchman's, whereas among ourselves we contrived to make it that it should serve for three years, for with this we were resolved to seek our fortunes.' Whenever _Spain_ was at war with another European Power, adventurers of any country found no difficulty in the _West Indies_ in procuring commissions to war against the Spaniards; with which commission, and carrying aloft the flag of the nation hostile to _Spain_, they assumed that they were lawful enemies. Such pretensions did them small service if they fell into the hands of the Spaniards; but they were allowed in the ports of neutral nations, which benefited by being made the mart of the Buccaneer prize goods; and the Buccaneers thought themselves well recompensed in having a ready market, and the security of the port. [Sidenote: 1678. Darien Indians.] The enterprises of the Buccaneers on the _Tierra Firma_ and other parts of the American Continent, brought them into frequent intercourse with the natives of those parts, and produced friendships, and sometimes alliances against the Spaniards, with whom each were alike at constant enmity. But there sometimes happened disagreements between them and the natives. The Buccaneers, if they wanted provisions or assistance from the Indians, had no objection to pay for it when they had the means; nor had the natives objection to supply them on that condition, and occasionally out of pure good will. The Buccaneers nevertheless, did not always refrain from helping themselves, with no other leave than their own. Sometime before Morgan's expedition to _Panama_, they had given the Indians of _Darien_ much offence; but shortly after that expedition, they were reconciled, in consequence of which, the Darien Indians had assisted La Sound. In 1678, they gave assistance to another party of Flibustiers which went against _Cheapo_, under a French Captain named Bournano, and offered to conduct them to a place called _Tocamoro_, where they said the Spaniards had much gold. Bournano did not think his force sufficient to take advantage of their offer, but promised he would come again and be better provided. [Sidenote: 1679. Porto Bello surprised by the Buccaneers.] In 1679, three Buccaneer vessels (two of them English, and one French) joined in an attempt to plunder _Porto Bello_. They landed 200 men at such a distance from the town, that it occupied them three nights in travelling, for during the day they lay concealed in the woods, before they reached it. Just as they came to the town, they were discovered by a negro, who ran before to give intelligence of their coming; but the Buccaneers were so quickly after him, that they got possession of the town before the inhabitants could take any step for their defence, and, being unacquainted with the strength of the enemy, they all fled. The Buccaneers remained in the town collecting plunder two days and two nights, all the time in apprehension that the Spaniards would; 'pour in the country' upon their small force, or intercept their retreat. They got back however to their ships unmolested, and, on a division of the booty, shared 160 pieces of eight to each man. CHAP. VIII. _Meeting of Buccaneers at the =Samballas=, and =Golden Island=. Party formed by the English Buccaneers to cross the =Isthmus=. Some account of the Native Inhabitants of the =Mosquito Shore=._ Immediately after the plundering of _Porto Bello_, a number of Buccaneer vessels, both English and French, on the report which had been made by Captain Bournano, assembled at the _Samballas_, or _Isles of San Blas_, near the coast of _Darien_. One of these vessels was commanded by Bournano. The Indians of _Darien_ received them as friends and allies, but they now disapproved the project of going to _Tocamoro_. The way thither, they said, was mountainous, and through a long tract of uninhabited country, in which it would be difficult to find subsistence; and instead of _Tocamoro_, they advised going against the city of _Panama_. [Sidenote: 1680. Golden Island.] Their representation caused the design upon _Tocamoro_ to be given up. The English Buccaneers were for attacking _Panama_; but the French objected to the length of the march; and on this difference, the English and French separated, the English Buccaneers going to an Island called by them _Golden Island_, which is the most eastern of the _Samballas_, if not more properly to be said to the eastward of all the _Samballas_. Without the assistance of the French, _Panama_ was too great an undertaking. They were bent, however, on crossing the _Isthmus_; and at the recommendation of their Darien friends, they determined to visit a Spanish town named _Santa Maria_, situated on the banks of a river that ran into the _South Sea_. The Spaniards kept a good garrison at _Santa Maria_, on account of gold which was collected from mountains in its neighbourhood. The Buccaneers who engaged in this expedition were the crews of seven vessels, of force as in the following list: Guns Men A vessel of 8 and 97 commanded by John Coxon. -- 25 - 107 ---- Peter Harris. -- 1 - 35 ---- Richard Sawkins. -- 2 - 40 ---- Bart. Sharp. -- 0 - 43 ---- Edmond Cook. -- 0 - 24 ---- Robert Alleston. -- 0 - 20 ---- ---- Macket. It was settled that Alleston and Macket, with 35 men, themselves included, should be left to guard the vessels during the absence of those who went on the expedition, which was not expected to be of long continuance. These matters were arranged at _Golden Island_, and agreement made with the Darien Indians to furnish them with subsistence during the march. William Dampier, a seaman at that time of no celebrity, but of good observation and experience, was among these Buccaneers, and of the party to cross the _Isthmus_; as was Lionel Wafer, since well known for his _Description of the Isthmus of Darien_, who had engaged with them as surgeon. [Sidenote: Account of the Mosquito Indians.] In this party of Buccaneers were also some native Americans, of a small tribe called Mosquito Indians, who inhabited the sea coast on each side of _Cape Gracias a Dios_, one way towards the river _San Juan de Nicaragua_, the other towards the _Gulf of Honduras_, which is called the _Mosquito Shore_. If Europeans had any plea in justification of their hostility against the Spaniards in the _West Indies_, much more had the native Americans. The Mosquito Indians, moreover, had long been, and were at the time of these occurrences, in an extraordinary degree attached to the English, insomuch that voluntarily of their own choice they acknowledged the King of _Great Britain_ for their sovereign. They were an extremely ingenious people, and were greatly esteemed by the European seamen in the _West Indies_, on account of their great expertness in the use of the harpoon, and in taking turtle. The following character of them is given by Dampier: 'These Mosquito Indians,' he says; 'are tall, well made, strong, and nimble of foot; long visaged, lank black hair, look stern, and are of a dark copper complexion. They are but a small nation or family. They are very ingenious in throwing the lance, or harpoon. They have extraordinary good eyes, and will descry a sail at sea, farther than we. For these things, they are esteemed and coveted by all privateers; for one or two of them in a ship, will sometimes maintain a hundred men. When they come among privateers, they learn the use of guns, and prove very good marksmen. They behave themselves bold in fight, and are never seen to flinch, or hang back; for they think that the white men with whom they are, always know better than they do, when it is best to fight; and be the disadvantage never so great, they do not give back while any of their party stand. These Mosquito men are in general very kind to the English, of whom they receive a great deal of respect, both on board their ships, and on shore, either in _Jamaica_, or elsewhere. We always humour them, letting them go any where as they will, and return to their country in any vessel bound that way, if they please. They will have the management of themselves in their striking fish, and will go in their own little canoe, nor will they then let any white man come in their canoe; all which we allow them. For should we cross them, though they should see shoals of fish, or turtle, or the like, they will purposely strike their harpoons and turtle-irons aside, or so glance them as to kill nothing. They acknowledge the King of England for their sovereign, learn our language, and take the Governor of _Jamaica_ to be one of the greatest princes in the world. While they are among the English, they wear good cloaths, and take delight to go neat and tight; but when they return to their own country, they put by all their cloaths, and go after their own country fashion.' In Dampier's time, it was the custom among the Mosquito Indians, when their Chief died, for his successor to obtain a commission, appointing him Chief, from the Governor of _Jamaica_; and till he received his commission he was not acknowledged in form by his countrymen[15]. How would Dampier have been grieved, if he could have foreseen that this simple and honest people, whilst their attachment to the English had suffered no diminution, would be delivered by the British Government into the hands of the Spaniards; which, from all experience of what had happened, was delivering them to certain destruction. Before this unhappy transaction took place, and after the time Dampier wrote, the British Government took actual possession of the Mosquito Country, by erecting a fort, and stationing there a garrison of British troops. British merchants settled among the Mosquito natives, and magistrates were appointed with authority to administer justice. Mosquito men were taken into British pay to serve as soldiers, of which the following story is related in Long's History of _Jamaica_; 'In the year 1738, the Government of _Jamaica_ took into their pay two hundred Mosquito Indians, to assist in the suppression of the Maroons or Wild Negroes. During a march on this service, one of their white conductors shot a wild hog. The Mosquito men told him, that was not the way to surprise the negroes, but to put them on their guard; and if he wanted provisions, they would kill the game equally well with their arrows. They effected considerable service on this occasion, and were well rewarded for their good conduct; and when a pacification took place with the Maroons, they were sent well satisfied to their own country.' In the year 1770, there resided in the _Mosquito Country_ of British settlers, between two and three hundred whites, as many of mixed blood, and 900 slaves. On the breaking out of the war between _Great Britain_ and _Spain_, in 1779, when the Spaniards drove the British logwood cutters from their settlements in the _Bay of Honduras_, the Mosquito men armed and assisted the British troops of the line in the recovery of the logwood settlements. They behaved on that occasion, and on others in which they served against the Spaniards, with their accustomed fidelity. An English officer, who was in the _West Indies_ during that war, has given a description of the Mosquito men, which exactly agrees with what Dampier has said; and all that is related of them whilst with the Buccaneers, gives the most favourable impression of their dispositions and character. It was natural to the Spaniards to be eagerly desirous to get the Mosquito Country and people into their power; but it was not natural that such a proposition should be listened to by the British. Nevertheless, the matter did so happen. When notice was received in the _West Indies_, that a negociation was on foot for the delivery of the _Mosquito Shore_ to _Spain_, the Council at _Jamaica_ drew up a Report and Remonstrance against it; in which was stated, that 'the number of the Mosquito Indians, so justly remarkable for their fixed hereditary hatred to the Spaniards, and attachment to us, were from seven to ten thousand.' Afterwards, in continuation, the Memorial says, 'We beg leave to state the nature of His Majesty's territorial right, perceiving with alarm, from papers submitted to our inspection, that endeavours have been made to create doubts as to His Majesty's just claims to the sovereignty of this valuable and delightful country. The native Indians of this country have never submitted to the Spanish Government. The Spaniards never had any settlement amongst them. During the course of 150 years they have maintained a strict and uninterrupted alliance with the subjects of _Great Britain_. They made a free and formal cession of the dominion of their country to His Majesty's predecessors, acknowledging the King of _Great Britain_ for their sovereign, long before the American Treaty concluded at _Madrid_ in 1670; and consequently, by the eighth Article of that Treaty, our right was declared[16].' In one Memorial and Remonstrance which was presented to the British Ministry on the final ratification (in 1786) of the Treaty, it is complained, that thereby his Majesty had given up to the King of _Spain_ 'the Indian people, and country of the _Mosquito Shore_, which formed the most secure West-Indian Province possessed by _Great Britain_, and which we held by the most pure and perfect title of sovereignty.' Much of this is digression; but the subject unavoidably came into notice, and could not be hastily quitted. Some mercantile arrangement, said to be advantageous to _Great Britain_, but which has been disputed, was the publicly assigned motive to this act. It has been conjectured that a desire to shew civility to the Prime Minister of _Spain_ was the real motive. Only blindness or want of information could give either of these considerations such fatal influence. The making over, or transferring, inhabited territory from the dominion and jurisdiction of one state to that of another, has been practised not always with regard for propriety. It has been done sometimes unavoidably, sometimes justly, and sometimes inexecusably. Unavoidably, when a weaker state is necessitated to submit to the exactions of a stronger. Justly, when the inhabitants of the territory it is proposed to transfer, are consulted, and give their consent. Also it may be reckoned just to exercise the power of transferring a conquered territory, the inhabitants of which have not been received and adopted as fellow subjects with the subjects of the state under whose power it had fallen. The inhabitants of a territory who with their lands are transferred to the dominion of a new state without their inclinations being consulted, are placed in the condition of a conquered people. The connexion of the Mosquito people with _Great Britain_ was formed in friendship, and was on each side a voluntary engagement. That it was an engagement, should be no question. In equity and honour, whoever permits it to be believed that he has entered into an engagement, thereby becomes engaged. The Mosquito people were known to believe, and had been allowed to continue in the belief, that they were permanently united to the British. The Governors of _Jamaica_ giving commissions for the instalment of their chief, the building a fort, and placing a garrison in the country, shew both acceptance of their submission and exercise of sovereignty. Vattel has described this case. He says, 'When a nation has not sufficient strength of itself, and is not in a condition to resist its enemies, it may lawfully submit to a more powerful nation on certain conditions upon which they shall come to an agreement; and the pact or treaty of submission will be afterwards the measure and rule of the rights of each. For that which submits, resigning a right it possessed, and conveying it to another, has an absolute power to make this conveyance upon what conditions it pleases; and the other, by accepting the submission on this footing, engages to observe religiously all the clauses in the treaty. When a nation has placed itself under the protection of another that is more powerful, or has submitted to it with a view of protection; if this last does not effectually grant its protection when wanted, it is manifest that by failing in its engagements it loses the rights it had acquired.' The rights lost or relinquished by _Great Britain_ might possibly be of small import to her; but the loss of our protection was of infinite consequence to the Mosquito people. Advantages supposed or real gained to _Great Britain_, is not to be pleaded in excuse or palliation for withdrawing her protection; for that would seem to imply that an engagement is more or less binding according to the greater or less interest there may be in observing it. But if there had been no engagement, the length and steadiness of their attachment to _Great Britain_ would have entitled them to her protection, and the nature of the case rendered the obligation sacred; for be it repeated, that experience had shewn the delivering them up to the dominion of the Spaniards, was delivering them to certain slavery and death. These considerations possibly might not occur, for there seems to have been a want of information on the subject in the British Ministry, and also a want of attention to the remonstrances made. The Mosquito Country, and the native inhabitants, the best affected and most constant of all the friends the British ever had, were abandoned in the summer of 1787, to the Spaniards, the known exterminators of millions of the native Americans, and who were moreover incensed against the Mosquito men, for the part they had always taken with the British, by whom they were thus forsaken. The British settlers in that country found it necessary, to withdraw as speedily as they had opportunity, with their effects. If the business had been fully understood, and the safety of _Great Britain_ had depended upon abandoning the Mosquito people to their merciless enemies, it would have been thought disgraceful by the nation to have done it; but the national interest being trivial, and the public in general being uninformed in the matter, the transaction took place without attracting much notice. A motion, however, was made in the British House of Lords, 'that the terms of the Convention with _Spain_, signed in July 1786, did not meet the favourable opinion of this House;' and the noble Mover objected to that part of the Convention which related to the surrender of the British possessions on the _Mosquito Shore_, that it was a humiliation, and derogating from the rights of _Great Britain_. The first Article of the Treaty of 1786 says, 'His Britannic Majesty's subjects, and the other Colonists, who have hitherto enjoyed the protection of _England_, shall evacuate the Country of the Mosquitos, as well as the Continent in general, and the Islands adjacent, without exception, situated beyond the line hereafter described, as what ought to be the extent of territory granted by his Catholic Majesty to the English.' In the debate, rights were asserted for _Spain_, not only to what she then possessed on the Continent of _America_, but to parts she had never possessed. Was this want of information, or want of consideration? The word 'granted' was improperly introduced. In truth and justice, the claims of _Spain_ to _America_ are not to be acknowledged rights. They were founded in usurpation, and prosecuted by the extermination of the lawful and natural proprietors. It is an offence to morality and to humanity to pretend that _Spain_ had so clear and just a title to any part of her possessions on the Continent of _America_, as _Great Britain_ had to the _Mosquito_ Country. The rights of the Mosquito people, and their claims to the friendship of _Great Britain_, were not sufficiently made known; and the motion was negatived. It might have been of service in this debate to have quoted Dampier. In conclusion, the case of the Mosquito people deserves, and demands the reconsideration of _Great Britain_. If, on examination, it shall be proved that they have been ungenerously and unjustly treated, it may not be too late to seek to make reparation, which ought to be done as far as circumstances will yet admit. The first step towards this would be, to institute enquiry if there are living any of our forsaken friends, or of their posterity, and what is their present condition. If the Mosquito people have been humanely and justly governed since their separation from _Great Britain_, the enquiry will give the Spaniards cause for triumph, and the British cause to rejoice that evil has not resulted from their act. On the other hand, should it be found that they have shared in the common calamities heaped upon the natives of _America_ by the Spaniards, then, if there yet exist enough of their tribe to form a nation, it would be right to restore them, if practicable, to the country and situation of which their fathers were deprived, or to find them an equivalent; and at any price or pains, to deliver them from oppression. If only few remain, those few should be freed from their bondage, and be liberally provided with lands and maintenance in our own _West-India Islands_. CHAP. IX. _Journey of the Buccaneers across the =Isthmus of America=._ [Sidenote: 1680. April 5th, Buccaneers land on the Isthmus.] On the 5th of April, 1680, three hundred and thirty-one Buccaneers, most of them English, passed over from _Golden Island_, and landed in _Darien_, 'each man provided with four cakes of bread called dough-boys, with a fusil, a pistol, and a hanger.' They began their journey marshalled in divisions, with distinguishing flags, under their several commanders, Bartholomew Sharp and his men taking the lead. Many Darien Indians kept them company as their confederates, and supplied them with plantains, fruit, and venison, for which payment was made in axes, hatchets, knives, needles, beads, and trinkets; all which the Buccaneers had taken care to come well provided with. Among the Darien Indians in company were two Chiefs, who went by the names of Captain Andreas and Captain Antonio. [Sidenote: The First Day's March.] The commencement of their march was through the skirt of a wood, which having passed, they proceeded about a league by the side of a bay, and afterwards about two leagues directly up a woody valley, where was an Indian house and plantation by the side of a river. Here they took up their lodging for the night, those who could not be received in the house, building huts. The Indians were earnest in cautioning them against sleeping in the grass, on account of adders. This first day's journey discouraged four of the Buccaneers, and they returned to the ships. Stones were found in the river, which on being broken, shone with sparks of gold. These stones, they were told, were driven down from the neighbouring mountains by torrents during the rainy season[17]. [Sidenote: Second Day's Journey.] The next morning, at sunrise, they proceeded in their journey, labouring up a steep hill, which they surmounted about three in the afternoon; and at the foot on the other side, they rested on the bank of a river, which Captain Andreas told them ran into the _South Sea_, and was the same by which the town of _Santa Maria_ was situated. They marched afterwards about six miles farther, over another steep hill, where the path was so narrow that seldom more than one man could pass at a time. At night, they took up their lodging by the side of the river, having marched this day, according to their computation, eighteen miles. [Sidenote: 7th. Third Day's Journey.] The next day, April the 7th, the march was continued by the river, the course of which was so serpentine, that they had to cross it almost at every half mile, sometimes up to their knees, sometimes to their middle, and running with a very swift current. About noon they arrived at some large Indian houses, neatly built, the sides of wood of the cabbage-tree, and the roofs of cane thatched over with palmito leaves. The interior had divisions into rooms, but no upper story; and before each house was a large plantain walk. Continuing their journey, at five in the afternoon, they came to a house belonging to a son of Captain Andreas, who wore a wreath of gold about his head, for which he was honoured by the Buccaneers with the title of King Golden Cap. [Sidenote: 8th.] They found their entertainment at King Golden Cap's house so good, that they rested there the whole of the following day. Bartholomew Sharp, who published a Journal of his expedition, says here, 'The inhabitants of _Darien_ are for the most part very handsome, especially the female sex, who are also exceeding loving and free to the embraces of strangers.' This was calumny. Basil Ringrose, another Buccaneer, whose Journal has been published, and who is more entitled to credit than Sharp, as will be seen, says of the Darien women, 'they are generally well featured, very free, airy, and brisk; yet withal very modest.' Lionel Wafer also, who lived many months among the Indians of the _Isthmus_, speaks highly of the modesty, kindness of disposition, and innocency, of the Darien women. [Sidenote: 9th. Fourth Day's Journey.] On the 9th, after breakfast, they pursued their journey, accompanied by the Darien Chiefs, and about 200 Indians, who were armed with bows and lances. They descended along the river, which they had to wade through between fifty and sixty times, and they came to a house 'only here and there.' At most of these houses, the owner, who had been apprised of the march of the Buccaneers, stood at the door, and as they passed, gave to each man a ripe plantain, or some sweet cassava root. If the Buccaneer desired more, he was expected to purchase. Some of the Indians, to count the number of the Buccaneers, for every man that went by dropped a grain of corn. That night they lodged at three large houses, where they found entertainment provided, and also canoes for them to descend the river, which began here to be navigable. [Sidenote: 10th. Fifth Day's Journey.] The next morning, as they were preparing to depart, two of the Buccaneer Commanders, John Coxon and Peter Harris, had some disagreement, and Coxon fired his musket at Harris, who was about to fire in return, but other Buccaneers interposed, and effected a reconciliation. Seventy of the Buccaneers embarked in fourteen canoes, in each of which two Indians also went, who best knew how to manage and guide them down the stream: the rest prosecuted their march by land. The men in the canoes found that mode of travelling quite as wearisome as marching, for at almost every furlong they were constrained to quit their boats to lanch them over rocks, or over trees that had fallen athwart the river, and sometimes over necks of land. At night, they stopped and made themselves huts on a green bank by the river's side. Here they shot wild-fowl. [Sidenote: 11th. Sixth Day's Journey.] The next day, the canoes continued to descend the river, having the same kind of impediments to overcome as on the preceding day; and at night, they lodged again on the green bank of the river. The land party had not kept up with them. Bartholomew Sharp says, 'Our supper entertainment was a very good sort of a wild beast called a _Warre_, which is much like to our English hog, and altogether as good. There are store of them in this part of the world: I observed that the navels of these animals grew upon their backs.' Wafer calls this species of the wild hog, _Pecary_[18]. In the night a small tiger came, and after looking at them some time, went away. The Buccaneers did not fire at him, lest the noise of their muskets should give alarm to the Spaniards at _S^{ta} Maria_. [Sidenote: 12th. Seventh Day's Journey.] The next day, the water party again embarked, but under some anxiety at being so long without having any communication with the party marching by land. Captain Andreas perceiving their uneasiness, sent a canoe back up the river, which returned before sunset with some of the land party, and intelligence that the rest were near at hand. [Sidenote: 13th.] Tuesday the 13th, early in the day, the Buccaneers arrived at a beachy point of land, where another stream from the uplands joined the river. This place had sometimes been the rendezvous of the Darien Indians, when they collected for attack or defence against the Spaniards; and here the whole party now made a halt, to rest themselves, and to clean and prepare their arms. They also made paddles and oars to row with; for thus far down the river, the canoes had been carried by the stream, and guided with poles: but here the river was broad and deep. [Sidenote: 14th.] On the 14th, the whole party, Buccaneers and Indians, making nearly 600 men, embarked in 68 canoes, which the Indians had provided. At midnight, they put to land, within half a mile of the town of _S^{ta} Maria_. [Sidenote: 15th.] In the morning at the break of day, they heard muskets fired by the guard in the town, and a 'drum beating _à travailler_[19].' [Sidenote: Fort of S^{ta} Maria taken.] The Buccaneers put themselves in motion, and by seven in the morning came to the open ground before the Fort, when the Spaniards began firing upon them. The Fort was formed simply with palisadoes, without brickwork, so that after pulling down two or three of the palisadoes, the Buccaneers entered without farther opposition, and without the loss of a man; nevertheless, they acted with so little moderation or mercy, that twenty-six Spaniards were killed, and sixteen wounded. After the surrender, the Indians took many of the Spaniards into the adjoining woods, where they killed them with lances; and if they had not been discovered in their amusement, and prevented, not a Spaniard would have been left alive. It is said in a Buccaneer account, that they found here the eldest daughter of the King of _Darien_, Captain Andreas, who had been forced from her father's house by one of the garrison, and was with child by him; which greatly incensed the father against the Spaniards. The Buccaneers were much disappointed in their expectations of plunder, for the Spaniards had by some means received notice of their intended visit in time to send away almost all that was of value. A Buccaneer says, 'though we examined our prisoners severely, the whole that we could pillage, either in the town or fort, amounted only to twenty pounds weight of gold, and a small quantity of silver; whereas three days sooner, we should have found three hundred pounds weight in gold in the Fort.' [Sidenote: John Coxon chosen Commander.] The majority of the Buccaneers were desirous to proceed in their canoes to the _South Sea_, to seek compensation for their disappointment at _S^{ta} Maria_. John Coxon and his followers were for returning; on which account, and not from an opinion of his capability, those who were for the _South Sea_, offered Coxon the post of General, provided he and his men would join in their scheme, which offer was accepted. It was then determined to descend with the stream of the river to the _Gulf de San Miguel_, which is on the East side of the _Bay of Panama_. The greater part of the Darien Indians, however, separated from them at _S^{ta} Maria_, and returned to their homes. The Darien Chief Andreas, and his son Golden Cap, with some followers, continued with the Buccaneers. Among the people of _Darien_ were remarked some white, 'fairer than any people in Europe, who had hair like unto the finest flax; and it was reported of them that they could see farther in the dark than in the light[20].' The River of _S^{ta} Maria_ is the largest of several rivers which fall into the _Gulf de San Miguel_. Abreast where the town stood, it was reckoned to be twice as broad as the _River Thames_ is at _London_. The rise and fall of the tide there was two fathoms and a half[21]. [Sidenote: April 17th.] April the 17th, the Buccaneers and their remaining allies embarked from _S^{ta} Maria_, in canoes and a small bark which was found at anchor before the town. About thirty Spaniards who had been made prisoners, earnestly entreated that they should not be left behind to fall into the hands of the Indians. 'We had much ado,' say the Buccaneers, 'to find boats enough for ourselves: the Spaniards, however, found or made bark logs, and it being for their lives, made shift to come along with us.' [Sidenote: 18th, They arrive at the South Sea.] At ten that night it was low water, and they stopped on account of the flood tide. The next morning they pursued their course to the sea. CHAP. X. _First Buccaneer Expedition in the =South Sea=._ [Sidenote: 1680. April 19th. In the Bay of Panama. 22d. Island Chepillo.] On the 19th of April, the Buccaneers, under the command of John Coxon, entered the _Bay of Panama_; and the same day, at one of the Islands in the _Bay_, they captured a Spanish vessel of 30 tons, on board of which 130 of the Buccaneers immediately placed themselves, glad to be relieved from the cramped and crowded state they had endured in the canoes. The next day another small bark was taken. The pursuit of these vessels, and seeking among the Islands for provisions, had separated the Buccaneers; but they had agreed to rendezvous at the Island _Chepillo_, near the entrance of the River _Cheapo_. Sharp, however, and some others, wanting fresh water, went to the _Pearl Islands_. The rest got to _Chepillo_ on the 22d, where they found good provision of plantains, fresh water, and hogs; and at four o'clock that same afternoon, they rowed from the Island towards _Panama_. By this time, intelligence of their being in the _Bay_ had reached the city. Eight vessels were lying in the road, three of which the Spaniards hastily equipped, manning them with the crews of all the vessels, and the addition of men from the shore; the whole, according to the Buccaneer accounts, not exceeding 230 men, and not more than one-third of them being Europeans; the rest were mulattoes and negroes. [Sidenote: 23d. Battle with a small Spanish Armament. The Buccaneers victorious.] On the 23d, before sunrise, the Buccaneers came in sight of the city; and as soon as they were descried, the three armed Spanish ships got under sail, and stood towards them. The conflict was severe, and lasted the greater part of the day, when it terminated in the defeat of the Spaniards, two of their vessels being carried by boarding, and the third obliged to save herself by flight. The Spanish Commander fell, with many of his people. Of the Buccaneers, 18 were killed, and above 30 wounded. Peter Harris, one of their Captains, was among the wounded, and died two days after. One Buccaneer account says, 'we were in all 68 men that were engaged in the fight of that day.' Another Buccaneer relates, 'we had sent away the Spanish bark to seek fresh water, and had put on board her above one hundred of our best men; so that we had only canoes for this fight, and in them not above 200 fighting men.' The Spanish ships fought with great bravery, but were overmatched, being manned with motley and untaught crews; whereas the Buccaneers had been in constant training to the use of their arms; and their being in canoes was no great disadvantage, as they had a smooth sea to fight in. [Sidenote: Richard Sawkins.] The valour of Richard Sawkins, who, after being three times repulsed, succeeded in boarding and capturing one of the Spanish ships, was principally instrumental in gaining the victory to the Buccaneers. It gained him also their confidence, and the more fully as some among them were thought to have shewn backwardness, of which number John Coxon, their elected Commander, appears to have been. The Darien Chiefs were in the heat of the battle. [Sidenote: The New City of Panama, four miles Westward of the Old City. The Buccaneers take several Prizes.] Immediately after the victory, the Buccaneers stood towards _Panama_, then a new city, and on a different site from the old, being four miles Westward of the ruins of the city burnt by Morgan. The old city had yet some inhabitants. The present adventurers did not judge their strength sufficient for landing, and they contented themselves with capturing the vessels that were at anchor near the small Islands of _Perico_, in the road before the city. One of these vessels was a ship named the Trinidad, of 400 tons burthen, in good condition, a fast sailer, and had on board a cargo principally consisting of wine, sugar, and sweetmeats; and moreover a considerable sum of money. The Spanish crew, before they left her, had both scuttled and set her on fire, but the Buccaneers took possession in time to extinguish the flames, and to stop the leaks. In the other prizes they found flour and ammunition; and two of them, besides the Trinidad, they fitted up for cruising. Two prize vessels, and a quantity of goods which were of no use to them, as iron, skins, and soap, which the Spaniards at _Panama_ refused to ransom, they destroyed. Besides these, they captured among the Islands some small vessels laden with poultry. Thus in less than a week after their arrival across the _Isthmus_ to the coast of the _South Sea_, they were provided with a small fleet, not ill equipped; and with which they now formed an actual and close blockade by sea, of _Panama_, stationing themselves at anchor in front of the city. [Sidenote: Panama, the new City.] This new city was already considerably larger than old _Panama_ had ever been, its extent being in length full a mile and a half, and in breadth above a mile. The churches (eight in number) were not yet finished. The cathedral church at the Old Town was still in use, 'the beautiful building whereof,' says Ringrose, 'maketh a fair show at a distance, like unto the church of St. Paul's at _London_. Round the city for the space of seven leagues, more or less, all the adjacent country is what they call in the Spanish language, _Savana_, that is to say, plain and level ground, as smooth as a sheet; only here and there is to be seen a small spot of woody land. And every where, this level ground is full of _vacadas_, where whole droves of cows and oxen are kept. But the ground whereon the city standeth, is damp and moist, and of bad repute for health. The sea is also very full of worms, much prejudicial to shipping, for which reason the king's ships are always kept near _Lima_. We found here in one night after our arrival, worms of three quarters of an inch in length, both in our bed-cloaths and other apparel.' [Sidenote: Coxon and his Men return to the West Indies.] Within two or three days after the battle with the Spanish Armadilla, discord broke out among the Buccaneers. The reflections made upon the behaviour of Coxon and some of his followers, determined him and seventy men to return by the River of _S^{ta} Maria_ over the _Isthmus_ to the _North Sea_. Two of the small prize vessels were given them for this purpose, and at the same time, the Darien Chiefs, Captain Andreas and Captain Antonio, with most of their people, departed to return to their homes. Andreas shewed his goodwill towards the Buccaneers who remained in the _South Sea_, by leaving with them a son and one of his nephews. [Sidenote: Richard Sawkins chosen Commander.] On the departure of Coxon, Richard Sawkins was chosen General or Chief Commander. They continued ten days in the road before _Panama_, at the end of which they retired to an Island named _Taboga_, more distant, but whence they could see vessels going to, or coming from, _Panama_. At _Taboga_ they stopped nearly a fortnight, having had notice that a rich ship from _Lima_ was shortly expected; but she came not within that time. Some other vessels however fell into their hands, by which they obtained in specie between fifty and sixty thousand dollars, 1200 packs of flour, 2000 jars of wine, a quantity of brandy, sugar, sweetmeats, poultry, and other provisions, some gunpowder and shot, besides various other articles of merchandise. Among their prisoners, were a number of negro slaves, which was a temptation to the merchants of _Panama_, to go to the ships whilst they lay at _Taboga_, who purchased part of the prize goods, and as many of the negroes as the Buccaneers would part with, giving for a negro two hundred pieces of eight; and they also sold to the Buccaneers such stores and commodities as they were in need of. [Sidenote: May.] Ringrose relates, that in the course of this communication, a message was delivered to their Chief from the Governor of _Panama_, demanding, "why, during a time of peace between _England_ and _Spain_, Englishmen should come into those seas, to commit injury? and from whom they had their commission so to do?" To which message, Sawkins returned answer, 'that he and his companions came to assist their friend the King of _Darien_, who was the rightful Lord of _Panama_, and all the country thereabouts. That as they had come so far, it was reasonable they should receive some satisfaction for their trouble; and if the Governor would send to them 500 pieces of eight for each man, and 1000 for each commander, and would promise not any farther to annoy the Darien Indians, their allies, that then the Buccaneers would desist from hostilities, and go quietly about their business.' By the Spaniards who traded with them, Sawkins learnt that the Bishop of _Panama_ was a person whom he had formerly taken prisoner in the _West Indies_, and sent him a small present as a token of regard; the Bishop sent a gold ring in return. [Sidenote: Island Taboga.] Sawkins would have waited longer for the rich ship expected from _Peru_; but all the live stock within reach had been consumed, and his men became impatient for fresh provisions. 'This _Taboga_,' says Sharp, 'is an exceeding pleasant island, abounding in fruits, such as pine-apples, oranges, lemons, pears, mammees, cocoa-nuts, and others; with a small, but brave commodious fresh river running in it. The anchorage is also clear and good.' [Sidenote: 15th. Island Otoque.] On the 15th of May, they sailed to the Island _Otoque_, at which place they found hogs and poultry; and, the same day, or the day following, they departed with three ships and two small barks, from the Bay of _Panama_, steering Westward for a Spanish town named _Pueblo Nuevo_. In this short distance they had much blowing weather and contrary winds, by which both the small barks, one with fifteen men, the other with seven men, were separated from the ships, and did not join them again. The crew of one of these barks returned over the _Isthmus_ with Coxon's party. The other bark was taken by the Spaniards. [Sidenote: At Quibo.] About the 21st, the ships anchored near the _Island Quibo_; from the North part of which, to the town of _Pueblo Nuevo_ on the main land, was reckoned eight leagues. [Sidenote: Attack of Pueblo Nuevo.] Sawkins, with sixty men, embarked on board the smallest ship, and sailed to the entrance of a river which leads to the town. He there left the ship with a few men to follow him, and proceeded with the rest in canoes up the river by night, having a negro prisoner for pilot. Those left with the care of the ship, 'entered the river, keeping close by the East shore, on which there is a round hill. Within two stones cast of the shore there was four fathoms depth; and within the point a very fine and large river opens. But being strangers to the place, the ship was run aground nigh a rock which lieth by the Westward shore; for the true channel of this river is nearer to the East than to the West shore. The Island _Quibo_ is SSE from the mouth of this river[22].' [Sidenote: Captain Sawkins is killed, and the Buccaneers retreat.] The canoes met with much obstruction from trees which the Spaniards had felled across the river; but they arrived before the town during the night. The Spaniards had erected some works, on which account the Buccaneers waited in their canoes till daylight, and then landed; when Richard Sawkins, advancing with the foremost of his men towards a breastwork, was killed, as were two of his followers. Sharp was the next in command, but he was disheartened by so unfortunate a beginning, and ordered a retreat. Three Buccaneers were wounded in the re-embarkation. In the narrative which Sharp himself published, he says, 'we landed at a _stockado_ built by the Spaniards, where we had a small rencounter with the enemy, who killed us three men, whereof the brave Captain Sawkins was one, and wounded four or five more; besides which we got nothing, so that we found it our best way to retreat down the river again.' The death of Sawkins was a great misfortune to the Buccaneers, and was felt by them as such. One Buccaneer relates, 'Captain Sawkins landing at _Pueblo Nuevo_ before the rest, as being a man of undaunted courage, and running up with a small party to a breastwork, was unfortunately killed. And this disaster occasioned a mutiny amongst our men; for our Commanders were not thought to be leaders fit for such hard enterprises. Now Captain Sharp was left in chief, and he was censured by many, and the contest grew to that degree that they divided into parties, and about 70 of our men fell off from us.' [Sidenote: Imposition practised by Sharp.] Ringrose was not in _England_ when his Narrative was published; and advantage was taken of his absence, to interpolate in it some impudent passages in commendation of Sharp's, valour. In the printed Narrative attributed to Ringrose, he is made to say, 'Captain Sawkins in running up to the breastwork at the head of a few men was killed; a man as valiant and courageous as any could be, and, next unto Captain Sharp, the best beloved of all our company, or the most part thereof.' Ringrose's manuscript Journal has been preserved in the Sloane Collection, at the _British Museum_ (No. 3820[23] of Ayscough's Catalogue) wherein, with natural expression of affection and regard, he says, 'Captain Sawkins was a valiant and generous spirited man, and beloved above any other we ever had among us, which he well deserved.' [Sidenote: May. Sharp chosen Commander.] In their retreat down the river of _Pueblo Nuevo_, the Buccaneers took a ship laden with indigo, butter, and pitch; and burnt two other vessels. When returned to _Quibo_, they could not agree in the choice of a commander. Bartholomew Sharp had a greater number of voices than any other pretender, which he obtained by boasting that he would take them a cruise whereby he did not at all doubt they would return home with not less than a thousand pounds to each man. Sharp was elected by but a small majority. [Sidenote: Some separate, and return to the West Indies.] Between 60 and 70 men who had remained after Coxon quitted the command, from attachment to Captain Sawkins, would not stay to be commanded by Sharp, and departed from _Quibo_ in one of the prize vessels to return over the _Isthmus_ to the _West Indies_; where they safely arrived. All the Darien Indians also returned to the _Isthmus_. One hundred and forty-six Buccaneers remained with Bartholomew Sharp. [Sidenote: The Anchorage at Quibo.] 'On the SE side of the Island _Quibo_ is a shoal, or spit of sand, which stretches out a quarter of a league into the sea[24].' Just within this shoal, in 14 fathoms depth, the Buccaneer ships lay at anchor. The Island abounded in fresh rivers, this being the rainy season. They caught red deer, turtle, and oysters. Ringrose says, 'here were oysters so large that we were forced to cut them into four pieces, each quarter being a good mouthful.' Here were also oysters of a smaller kind, from which the Spaniards collected pearls. They killed alligators at _Quibo_, some above 20 feet in length; 'they were very fearful, and tried to escape from those who hunted them.' Ringrose relates, that he stood under a manchineal tree to shelter himself from the rain, but some drops fell on his skin from the tree, which caused him to break out all over in red spots, and he was not well for a week afterwards. [Sidenote: June.] June the 6th, Sharp and his followers, in two ships, sailed from _Quibo_ Southward for the coast of _Peru_, intending to stop by the way at the _Galapagos Islands_; but the winds prevented them. [Sidenote: Island Gorgona.] On the 17th, they anchored on the South side of the _Island Gorgona_, near the mouth of a river. '_Gorgona_ is a high mountainous Island, about four leagues in circuit, and is distant about four leagues from the Continent. The anchorage is within a pistol-shot of the shore, in depth from 15 to 20 fathoms. At the SW of _Gorgona_ is a smaller Island, and without the same stands a small rock[25].' There were at this time streams of fresh water on every side of the Island. _Gorgona_ being uninhabited, was thought to be a good place of concealment. The Island supplied rabbits, monkeys, turtle, oysters, and birds; which provision was inducement to the Buccaneers, notwithstanding the rains, to remain there, indulging in idleness, till near the end of July, when the weather began to be dry. They killed a snake at _Gorgona_, eleven feet long, and fourteen inches in circumference. [Sidenote: July.] July the 25th, they put to sea. Sharp had expressed an intention to attack _Guayaquil_; but he was now of opinion that their long stay at _Gorgona_ must have occasioned their being discovered by the Spaniards, 'notwithstanding that he himself had persuaded them to stay;' their plan was therefore changed for the attack of places more Southward, where they would be less expected. [Sidenote: Island Plata.] The winds were from the Southward, and it was not till August the 13th, that they got as far as the _Island Plata_. [Sidenote: August.] The only landing at _Plata_ at this time, was on the NE side, near a deep valley, where the ships anchored in 12 fathoms. Goats were on this Island in such numbers, that they killed above a hundred in a day with little labour, and salted what they did not want for present use. Turtle and fish were in plenty. They found only one small spring of fresh water, which was near the landing place, and did not yield them more than 20 gallons in the 24 hours. There were no trees on any part of the Island. [Sidenote: On the Coast of Peru.] From _Plata_ they proceeded Southward. The 25th, near _Cape St. Elena_, they met a Spanish ship from _Guayaquil_ bound to _Panama_, which they took after a short action in which one Buccaneer was killed, and two others were wounded. In this prize they found 3000 dollars. They learnt from their prisoners, that one of the small buccaneer tenders, which had been separated from Sawkins in sailing from the _Bay of Panama_, had been taken by the Spaniards, after losing six men out of seven which composed her crew. [Sidenote: Adventure of a small Crew of Buccaneers.] Their adventure was as follows. Not being able to join their Commander Sawkins at _Quibo_, they sailed to the Island _Gallo_ near the Continent (in about 2° N.) where they found a party of Spaniards, from whom they took three white women. A few days afterwards, they put in at another small Island, four leagues distant from _Gallo_, where they proposed to remain on the lookout, in hopes of seeing some of their friends come that way, as Sawkins had declared it his intention to go to the coast of _Peru_. Whilst they were waiting in this expectation, a Spaniard whom they had kept prisoner, made his escape from them, and got over to the main land. This small buccaneer crew had the imprudence nevertheless to remain in the same quarters long enough to give time for a party of Spaniards to pass over from the main land, which they did without being perceived, and placed themselves in ambuscade with so much advantage, that at one volley they killed six Buccaneers out of the seven: the one remaining became their prisoner. Sharp and his men divided the small sum of money taken in their last prize, and sunk her. Ringrose relates, 'we also punished a Friar and shot him upon the deck, casting him overboard while he was yet alive. I abhorred such cruelties, yet was forced to hold my tongue.' It is not said in what manner the Friar had offended, and Sharp does not mention the circumstance in his Journal. One of the two vessels in which the Buccaneers cruised, sailed badly, on which account she was abandoned, and they all embarked in the ship named the Trinidad. [Sidenote: September.] On the 4th of September they took a vessel from _Guayaquil_ bound for _Lima_, with a lading of timber, chocolate, raw silk, Indian cloth, and thread stockings. It appears here to have been a custom among the Buccaneers, for the first who boarded an enemy, or captured vessel, to be allowed some extra privilege of plunder. Ringrose says, 'we cast dice for the first entrance, and the lot fell to the larboard watch, so twenty men belonging to that watch, entered her.' They took out of this vessel as much of the cargo as they chose, and put some of their prisoners in her; after which they dismissed her with only one mast standing and one sail, that she should not be able to prosecute her voyage Southward. [Sidenote: October.] Sharp passed _Callao_ at a distance from land, being apprehensive there might be ships of war in the road. October the 26th, he was near the town of _Arica_, when the boats manned with a large party of Buccaneers departed from the ship with intention to attack the town; but, on coming near the shore, they found the surf high, and the whole country appeared to be in arms. [Sidenote: 28th. Ilo.] They returned to the ship, and it was agreed to bear away for _Ilo_, a small town on the coast, in latitude about 17° 40' S. Their stock of fresh water was by this time so reduced, that they had come to an allowance of only half a pint for a man for the day; and it is related that a pint of water was sold in the ship for 30 dollars. They succeeded however in landing at _Ilo_, and obtained there fresh water, wine, fruits, flour, oil, chocolate, sugar, and other provisions. The Spaniards would give neither money nor cattle to have their buildings and plantations spared, and the Buccaneers committed all the mischief they could. [Sidenote: December. Shoals of Anchovies.] From _Ilo_ they proceeded Southward. December the 1st, in the night, being in latitude about 31°, they found themselves in white water, like banks or breakers, which extended a mile or more in length; but they were relieved from their alarm by discovering that what they had apprehended to be rocks and breakers was a large shoal of anchovies. [Sidenote: On the Coast of Peru. La Serena plundered and burnt.] December the 3d, they landed at the town of _La Serena_, which they entered without opposition. Some Spaniards came to negociate with them to ransom the town from being burnt, for which they agreed to pay 95,000 pieces of eight; but the money came not at the time appointed, and the Buccaneers had reason to suspect the Spaniards intended to deceive them. [Sidenote: Attempt of the Spaniards to burn the Ship.] Ringrose relates, that a man ventured to come in the night from the shore, on a float made of a horse's hide blown up like a bladder. 'He being arrived at the ship, went under the stern and crammed oakum and brimstone and other combustible matter between the rudder and the stern-post. Having done this, he fired it with a match, so that in a small time our rudder was on fire, and all the ship in a smoke. Our men, both alarmed and amazed with this smoke, ran up and down the ship, suspecting the prisoners to have fired the vessel, thereby to get their liberty and seek our destruction. At last they found out where the fire was, and had the good fortune to quench it before its going too far. After which we sent the boat ashore, and found both the hide afore-mentioned, and the match burning at both ends, whereby we became acquainted with the whole matter.' By the _La Serena_ expedition they obtained five hundred pounds weight of silver. One of the crew died in consequence of hard drinking whilst on shore. They released all their prisoners here, except a pilot; after which, they stood from the Continent for _Juan Fernandez_. In their approach to that Island, it is remarked by Ringrose, that they saw neither bird, nor fish; and this being noticed to the pilot, he made answer, that he had many times sailed by _Juan Fernandez_, and had never seen either fish or fowl whilst at sea in sight of the Island. [Sidenote: Island Juan Fernandez.] On Christmas day, they anchored in a Bay at the South part of _Juan Fernandez_; but finding the winds SE and Southerly, they quitted that anchorage, and went to a Bay on the North side of the Island, where they cast anchor in 14 fathoms, so near to the shore that they fastened the end of another cable from the ship to the trees; being sheltered by the land from ESE round by the South and West, and as far as NbW[26]. Their fastenings, however, did not hold the ship against the strong flurries that blew from the land, and she was twice forced to sea; but each time recovered the anchorage without much difficulty. [Sidenote: 1681. January.] The shore of this bay was covered with seals and sea lions, whose noise and company were very troublesome to the men employed in filling fresh water. The seals coveted to lie where streams of fresh water ran into the sea, which made it necessary to keep people constantly employed to beat them off. Fish were in the greatest plenty; and innumerable sea birds had their nests near the shore, which makes the remark of Ringrose on approaching the Island the more extraordinary. Craw-fish and lobsters were in abundance; and on the Island itself goats were in such plenty, that, besides what they eat during their stay, they killed about a hundred for salting, and took away as many alive. [Sidenote: Sharp deposed from the Command. Watling elected Commander.] Here new disagreements broke out among the Buccaneers. Some wished to sail immediately homeward by the _Strait of Magalhanes_; others desired to try their fortune longer in the _South Sea_. Sharp was of the party for returning home; but in the end the majority deposed him from the command, and elected for his successor John Watling, 'an old privateer, and esteemed a stout seaman.' Articles were drawn up in writing between Watling and the crew, and subscribed. One Narrative says, 'the true occasion of the grudge against Sharp was, that he had got by these adventures almost a thousand pounds, whereas many of our men were scarce worth a groat; and good reason there was for their poverty, for at the _Isle of Plate_ and other places, they had lost all their money to their fellow Buccaneers at dice; so that some had a great deal, and others, just nothing. Those who were thrifty sided with Captain Sharp, but the others, being the greatest number, turned Sharp out of his command; and Sharp's party were persuaded to have patience, seeing they were the fewest, and had money to lose, which the other party had not.' Dampier says Sharp was displaced by general consent, the company not being satisfied either with his courage or his conduct. Watling began his command by ordering the observance of the Sabbath. 'This day, January the 9th,' says Ringrose, 'was the first Sunday that ever we kept by command since the loss and death of our valiant Commander Captain Sawkins, who once threw the dice overboard, finding them in use on the said day.' [Sidenote: 11th. 12th. They sail from Juan Fernandez.] The 11th, two boats were sent from the ship to a distant part of the Island to catch goats. On the following morning, the boats were seen returning in great haste, and firing muskets to give alarm. When arrived on board, they gave information that three sail, which they believed to be Spanish ships of war, were in sight of the Island, and were making for the anchorage. In half an hour after this notice, the strange ships were seen from the Bay; upon which, all the men employed on shore in watering, hunting, and other occupations, were called on board with the utmost speed; and not to lose time, the cable was slipped, and the ship put to sea. [Sidenote: William, a Mosquito Indian, left on the island.] It happened in this hurry of quitting the Island, that one of the Mosquito Indians who had come with the Buccaneers, and was by them called William, was absent in the woods hunting goats, and heard nothing of the alarm. No time could be spared for search, and the ship sailed without him. This it seems was not the first instance of a solitary individual being left to inhabit _Juan Fernandez_. Their Spanish pilot affirmed to them, that 'many years before, a ship had been cast away there, and only one man saved, who lived alone upon the Island five years, when another ship coming that way, took him off.' The three vessels whose appearance caused them in such haste to quit their anchorage, were armed Spanish ships. They remained in sight of the Buccaneer ship two days, but no inclination appeared on either side to try the event of a battle. The Buccaneers had not a single great gun in their ship, and must have trusted to their musketry and to boarding. [Sidenote: 13th.] On the evening of the 13th after dark, they resigned the honour of the field to the Spaniards, and made sail Eastward for the American coast, with design to attack _Arica_, which place they had been informed contained great riches. [Sidenote: January 26th. Island Yqueque. River de Camarones.] The 26th, they were close to the small Island named _Yqueque_, about 25 leagues to the South of _Arica_, where they plundered a small Indian village of provisions, and took two old Spaniards and two Indians prisoners. This Island was destitute of fresh water, and the inhabitants were obliged to supply themselves from the Continent, at a river named _De Camarones_, 11 Spanish leagues to the North of _Yqueque_. The people on _Yqueque_ were the servants and slaves of the Governor of _Arica_, and were employed by him to catch and dry fish, which were disposed of to great profit among the inland towns of the Continent. The Indians here eat much and often of certain leaves 'which were in taste much like to the bay leaves in England, by the continual use of which their teeth were dyed of a green colour.' [Sidenote: 27th.] The 27th, Watling examined one of the old Spaniards concerning the force at _Arica_; and being offended at his answers, ordered him to be shot, which was done. The same morning they took a small bark from the River _Camarones_, laden with fresh water. [Sidenote: On the Coast of Peru.] In the night of the 28th, Watling with one hundred men departed from the ship in the small prize bark and boats for _Arica_. They put ashore on the mainland about five leagues to the South of _Arica_, before it was light, and remained concealed among rocks all day. [Sidenote: 30th. They attack Arica.] At night, they again proceeded, and at daylight (on the 30th) Watling landed with 92 men, four miles from the town, to which they marched, and gained entrance, with the loss of three men killed, and two wounded. There was a castle or fort, which for their own security they ought immediately to have attacked; but Watling was only intent on making prisoners, until he was incommoded, with more than could be well guarded. This gave the inhabitants who had fled, time to recover from their alarm, and they collected in the Fort. To complete the mistake, Watling at length advanced to attack the fort, where he found resistance more than he expected. [Sidenote: Are Repulsed.] Watling put in practice the expedient of placing his prisoners in front of his own men; but the defenders of the fort were not a whit deterred thereby from firing on the Buccaneers, who were twice repulsed. The Spaniards without, in the mean time, began to make head from all parts; and in a little time the Buccaneers, from being the assailants, found themselves obliged to look to their defence. [Sidenote: Watling killed.] Watling their chief was killed, as were two quarter-masters, the boatswain, and some others of their best men; and the rest thought it necessary to retreat to their boats, which, though harassed the whole way by a distant firing from the Spaniards, they effected in tolerable order, and embarked. In this attack, the Buccaneers lost in killed, and taken prisoners by the Spaniards, 28 men; and of those who got back to the ship, eighteen were wounded. Among the men taken by the Spaniards were two surgeons, to whose care the wounded had been committed. 'We could have brought off our doctors,' says Ringrose, 'but they got to drinking whilst we were assaulting the fort, and when we called to them, they would not come with us.' The Spaniards gave quarter to the surgeons, 'they being able to do them good service in that country: but as to the wounded men taken prisoners, they were all knocked on the head.' The whole party that landed at _Arica_ narrowly escaped destruction; for the Spaniards learnt from the prisoners they took, the signals which had been agreed upon with the men left in charge of the boats; of which information they made such use, that the boats had quitted their station, and set sail to run down to the town; but some Buccaneers who had been most speedy in the retreat, arrived at the sea side just in time to call them back. [Sidenote: Sharp again chosen Commander.] This miscarriage so much disheartened the whole Buccaneer crew, that they made no attempt to take three ships which were at anchor in the road before _Arica_. Sharp was reinstated in the command, because he was esteemed a leader of safer conduct than any other; and every one was willing to quit the _South Sea_, but which it was now proposed they should do by re-crossing the _Isthmus_. [Sidenote: March. Huasco.] They did not, however, immediately steer Northward; but continued to beat up against the wind to the Southward, till the 10th of March, when they landed at _Guasco_ or _Huasco_ (in lat. about 28-1/2°) from which place they carried off 120 sheep, 80 goats, 200 bushels of corn, and filled their jars with fresh water. From _Huasco_ they stood to the North. On the 27th, they passed _Arica_. The Narrative remarks, 'our former entertainment had been so very bad, that we were no ways encouraged to stop there again.' [Sidenote: Ylo.] They landed at _Ylo_, of which Wafer says, 'the _River Ylo_ is situated in a valley which is the finest I have seen in all the coast of _Peru_, and furnished with a multitude of vegetables. A great dew falls here every night.' [Sidenote: April.] April the 16th, they were near the Island _Plata_. By this time new opinions and new projects had been formed. Many of the crew were again willing to try their fortune longer in the _South Sea_; but one party would not continue under the command of Sharp, and others would not consent to choosing a new commander. As neither party would yield, it was determined to separate, and agreed upon by all hands, 'that which party soever upon polling should be found to have the majority, should keep the ship.' The other party was to have the long-boat and the canoes. On coming to a division, Sharp's party proved the most numerous. The minority consisted of forty-four Europeans, two Mosquito Indians, and a Spanish Indian. [Sidenote: Another Party of the Buccaneers return across the Isthmus.] On the forenoon of the 17th, the party in the boats separated from the ship, and proceeded for the _Gulf de San Miguel_, where they landed, and returned over the _Isthmus_ back to the _West Indies_. In this party were William Dampier, and Lionel Wafer the surgeon. Dampier afterwards published a brief sketch of the expedition, and an account of his return across the _Isthmus_, both of which are in the 1st volume of his Voyages. Wafer met with an accidental hurt whilst on the _Isthmus_, which disabled him from travelling with his countrymen, and he remained some months living with the Darien Indians, of whom he afterwards published an entertaining description, with a Narrative of his own adventures among them. [Sidenote: Further Proceedings of Sharp and his Followers.] Sharp and his diminished crew sailed in their ship from the Island _Plata_ Northward to the _Gulf of Nicoya_, where they met with no booty, nor with any adventure worth mentioning. [Sidenote: July.] They returned Southward to the Island _Plata_, and in the way took three prizes: the first, a ship named the San Pedro, from _Guayaquil_ bound for _Panama_, with a lading of cocoa-nuts, and 21,000 pieces of eight in chests, and 16,000 in bags, besides plate. The money in bags and all the loose plunder was divided, each man receiving for his share 234 pieces of eight; whence it may be inferred that their number was reduced to about 70 men. The rest of the money was reserved for a future division. Their second prize was a packet from _Panama_ bound for _Callao_, by which they learnt that in _Panama_ it was believed all the Buccaneers had returned overland to the _West Indies_. The third was a ship named the _San Rosario_, which did not submit to them without resistance, nor till her Captain was killed. She was from _Callao_, laden with wine, brandy, oil, and fruit, and had in her as much money as yielded to each Buccaneer 94 dollars. One Narrative says a much greater booty was missed through ignorance. 'Besides the lading already mentioned, we found in the San Rosario 700 pigs of plate, which we supposed to be tin, and under this mistake, they were slighted by us all, especially by the Captain, who would not by persuasions used by some few be induced to take them into our ship, as we did most of the other things. Thus we left them in the _Rosario_, which we turned away loose into the sea. This, it should seem, was plate, not thoroughly refined and fitted for coin, which occasioned our being deceived. We took only one pig of the seven hundred into our ship, thinking to make bullets of it; and to this effect, or what else our seamen pleased, the greatest part of it was melted and squandered away. Afterwards, when we arrived at _Antigua_, we gave the remaining part (which was about one-third thereof) to a _Bristol_ man, who knew presently what it was; who brought it to _England_, and sold it there for 75_l._ sterling. Thus we parted with the richest booty we got in the whole voyage, through our own ignorance and laziness[27].' The same Narrative relates, that they took out of the Rosario 'a great book full of sea charts and maps, containing an accurate and exact description of all the ports, soundings, rivers, capes, and coasts, of the _South Sea_, and all the navigation usually performed by the Spaniards in that ocean. This book was for its novelty and curiosity presented unto His Majesty on the return of some of the Buccaneers to _England_, and was translated into English by His Majesty's order[28].' [Sidenote: August.] August the 12th, they anchored at the Island _Plata_, whence they departed on the 16th, bound Southward, intending to return by the _Strait of Magalhanes_ or _Strait le Maire_, to the _West Indies_. The 28th, they looked in at _Paita_; but finding the place prepared for defence, they stood off from the coast, and pursued their course Southward, without again coming in sight of land, and without the occurrence of any thing remarkable, till they passed the 50th degree of latitude. [Sidenote: October 12th. By the Western Coast of America, in 50° 50' S.] October the 11th, they were in latitude 49° 54' S, and estimated their distance from the American coast to be 120 leagues. The wind blew strong from the SW, and they stood to the South East. On the morning of the 12th, two hours before day, being in latitude by account 50° 50' S, they suddenly found themselves close to land. The ship was ill prepared for such an event, the fore yard having been lowered to ease her, on account of the strength of the wind. 'The land was high and towering; and here appeared many Islands scattered up and down.' They were so near, and so entangled, that there was no possibility of standing off to sea, and, with such light as they had, they steered, as cautiously as they could, in between some Islands, and along an extensive coast, which, whether it was a larger Island, or part of the Continent, they could not know. [Sidenote: They enter a Gulf.] As the day advanced, the land was seen to be mountainous and craggy, and the tops covered with snow. Sharp says, 'we bore up for a harbour, and steered in Northward about five leagues. On the North side there are plenty of harbours[29].' [Sidenote: Shergall's Harbour.] At 11 in the forenoon they came to an anchor 'in a harbour, in 45 fathoms, within a stone's cast of the shore, where the ship was landlocked, and in smooth water. As the ship went in, one of the crew, named Henry Shergall, fell overboard as he was going into the spritsail top, and was drowned; on which account this was named _Shergall's Harbour_.' The bottom was rocky where the ship had anchored; a boat was therefore sent to look for better anchorage. They did not however shift their birth that day; and during the night, strong flurries of wind from the hills, joined with the sharpness of the rocks at the bottom, cut their cable in two, and they were obliged to set sail. [Sidenote: Another Harbour.] They ran about a mile to another bay, where they let go another anchor, and moored the ship with a fastening to a tree on shore. They shot geese, and other wild-fowl. On the shores they found large muscles, cockles like those in _England_, and limpets: here were also penguins, which were shy and not taken without pursuit; 'they padded on the water with their wings very fast, but their bodies were too heavy to be carried by the said wings.' [Sidenote: 15th.] The first part of the time they lay in this harbour, they had almost continual rain. On the night of the 15th, in a high North wind, the tree to which their cable was fastened gave way, and came up by the root, in consequence of which, the stern of the ship took the ground and damaged the rudder. They secured the ship afresh by fastening the cable to other trees; but were obliged to unhang the rudder to repair. [Sidenote: 18th.] The 18th was a day of clear weather. The latitude was observed 50° 40' S. The difference of the rise and fall of the tide was seven feet perpendicular: the time of high water is not noted. [Sidenote: The Gulf is named the English Gulf. Duke of York's Islands.] The arm of the sea, or gulf, in which they were, they named the _English Gulf_; and the land forming the harbour, the _Duke of York's Island_; 'more by guess than any thing else; for whether it were an Island or Continent was not discovered,' Ringrose says, 'I am persuaded that the place where we now are, is not so great an Island as some Hydrographers do lay it down, but rather an archipelago of smaller Islands. Our Captain gave to them the name of the _Duke of York's Islands_. Our boat which went Eastward, found several good bays and harbours, with deep water close to the shore; but there lay in them several sunken rocks, as there did also in the harbour where the ship lay. These rocks are less dangerous to shipping, by reason they have weeds lying about them.' [Sidenote: Sharp's English Gulf, the Brazo de la Conçepçion of Sarmiento.] From all the preceding description, it appears, that they were at the South part of the Island named _Madre de Dios_ in the Spanish Atlas, which Island is South of the Channel, or Arm of the Sea, named the _Gulf de la S^{ma} Trinidada_; and that Sharp's _English Gulf_ is the _Brazo de la Conçepçion_ of Sarmiento. Ringrose has drawn a sketch of the _Duke of York's Islands_, and one of the _English Gulf_; but which are not worth copying, as they have neither compass, meridian line, scale, nor soundings. He has given other plan's in the same defective manner, on which account they can be of little use. It is necessary however to remark a difference in the plan which has been printed of the _English Gulf_, from the plan in the manuscript. In the printed copy, the shore of the _Gulf_ is drawn as one continued line, admitting no thoroughfare; whereas, in the manuscript plan, there are clear openings leaving a prospect of channels through. [Sidenote: Natives.] Towards the end of October, the weather settled fair. Hitherto they had seen no inhabitants; but on the 27th, a party went from the ship in a boat, on an excursion in search of provisions, and unhappily caught sight of a small boat belonging to the natives of the land. [Sidenote: One of them killed by the Buccaneers.] The ship's boat rowed in pursuit, and the natives, a man, a woman, and a boy, finding their boat would be overtaken, all leapt overboard and swam towards shore. This villainous crew of Buccaneers had the barbarity to shoot at them in the water, and they shot the man dead; the woman made her escape to land; the boy, a stout lad about eighteen years of age, was taken, and with the Indian boat, was carried to the ship. The poor lad thus made prisoner had only a small covering of seal skin. 'He was squint-eyed, and his hair was cut short. The _doree_, or boat, in which he and the other Indians were, was built sharp at each end and flat bottomed: in the middle they had a fire burning for dressing victuals, or other use. They had a net to catch penguins, a club like to our bandies, and wooden darts. This young Indian appeared by his actions to be very innocent and foolish. He could open large muscles with his fingers, which our Buccaneers could scarcely manage with their knives. He was very wild, and would eat raw flesh.' [Sidenote: November.] By the beginning of November the rudder was repaired and hung. Ringrose says, 'we could perceive, now the stormy weather was blown over, much small fry of fish about the ship, whereof before we saw none. The weather began to be warm, or rather hot, and the birds, as thrushes and blackbirds, to sing as sweetly as those in England.' [Sidenote: Native of Patagonia carried away.] On the 5th of November, they sailed out of the _English Gulf_, taking with them their young Indian prisoner, to whom they gave the name of Orson. As they departed, the natives on some of the lands to the Eastward made great fires. At six in the evening the ship was without the mouth of the _Gulf_: the wind blew fresh from NW, and they stood out SWbW, to keep clear of breakers which lie four leagues without the entrance of the _Gulf_ to the South and SSE. Many reefs and rocks were seen hereabouts, on account of which, they kept close to the wind till they were a good distance clear of the land. Their navigation from here to the _Atlantic_ was, more than could have been imagined, like the journey of travellers by night in a strange country without a guide. The weather was stormy, and they would not venture to steer in for the _Strait of Magalhanes_, which they had purposed to do for the benefit of the provision which the shores of the _Strait_ afford of fresh water, fish, vegetables, and wood. They ran to the South to go round the _Tierra del Fuego_, having the wind from the NW, which was the most favourable for this navigation; but they frequently lay to, because the weather was thick. [Sidenote: Passage round Cape Horn.] On the 12th, they had not passed the _Tierra del Fuego_. The latitude according to observation that day was 55° 25', and the course they steered was SSE. [Sidenote: 14th. Appearance like Land. Latitude observed, 57° 50' S.] On the 14th, Ringrose says, 'the latitude was observed 57° 50' S, and on this day we could perceive land, from which at noon we were due West.' They steered EbS, and expected that at daylight the next morning they should be close in with the land; but the weather became cloudy with much fall of snow, and nothing more of it was seen. No longitude or meridian distance is noticed, and it must remain doubtful whether what they took for land was floating ice; or their observation for the latitude erroneous, and that they saw the _Isles of Diego Ramirez_. [Sidenote: Ice Islands.] Three days afterwards, in latitude 58° 30' S, they fell in with Ice Islands, one of which they reckoned to be two leagues in circumference. A strong current set here Southward. They held on their course Eastward so far that when at length they did sail Northward, they saw neither the _Tierra del Fuego_ nor _Staten Island_. [Sidenote: December.] December the 5th, they divided the plunder which had been reserved, each man's share of which amounted to 328 pieces of eight. Their course was now bent for the _West Indies_. [Sidenote: 1682. January.] January the 15th, died William Stephens, a seaman, whose death was attributed to his having eaten three manchineal apples six months before, when on the coast of _New Spain_, 'from which time he wasted away till he became a perfect skeleton.' [Sidenote: Arrive in the West Indies.] January the 28th, 1682, they made the Island of _Barbadoes_, but learnt that the Richmond, a British frigate, was lying in the road. Ringrose and his fellow journalists say, 'we having acted in all our voyage without a commission, dared not be so bold as to put in, lest the said frigate should seize us for pyrateering, and strip us of all we had got in the whole voyage.' They next sailed to _Antigua_; but the Governor at that Island, Colonel Codrington, would not give them leave to enter the harbour, though they endeavoured to soften him by sending a present of jewels to his lady, which, however, were not accepted. Sharp and his crew grew impatient at their uneasy situation, and came to a determination to separate. Some of them landed at _Antigua_; Sharp and others landed at _Nevis_, whence they got passage to _England_. Their ship, which was the Trinidad captured in the _Bay of Panama_, was left to seven men of the company who had lost their money by gaming. The Buccaneer journals say nothing of their Patagonian captive Orson after the ship sailed from his country; and what became of the ship after Sharp quitted her does not appear. [Sidenote: Bart. Sharp and some of his men tried for Piracy.] Bartholomew Sharp, and a few others, on their arrival in _England_, were apprehended, and a Court of Admiralty was held at the _Marshalsea_ in _Southwark_, where, at the instance of the Spanish Ambassador, they were tried for committing acts of piracy in the _South Sea_; but from the defectiveness of the evidence produced, they escaped conviction. One of the principal charges against them was for taking the Spanish ship Rosario, and killing the Captain and another man belonging to her; 'but it was proved,' says the author of the anonymous Narrative, who was one of the men brought to trial, 'that the Spaniards fired at us first and it was judged that we ought to defend ourselves.' Three Buccaneers of Sharp's crew were also tried at _Jamaica_, one of whom was condemned and hanged, 'who,' the narrator says, 'was wheedled into an open confession: the other two stood it out, and escaped for want of witnesses to prove the fact against them.' Thus terminated what may be called the First Expedition of the Buccaneers in the _South Sea_; the boat excursion by Morgan's men in the _Bay of Panama_ being of too little consequence to be so reckoned. They had now made successful experiment of the route both by sea and land; and the Spaniards in the _South Sea_ had reason to apprehend a speedy renewal of their visits. Carlos Enriquez Clerck, who went from _England_ with Captain Narbrough, was at this time executed at _Lima_, on a charge of holding correspondence with the English of _Jamaica_; which act of severity probably is attributable more to the alarm which prevailed in the Government of _Peru_, than to any guilty practices of Clerck. CHAP. XI. _Disputes between the French Government and their West-India Colonies. =Morgan= becomes Deputy Governor of =Jamaica=. =La Vera Cruz= surprised by the Flibustiers. Other of their Enterprises._ [Sidenote: 1680. Proceedings of the Buccaneers in the West Indies. Prohibitions against Piracy by the French Government;] Whilst so many of the English Buccaneers were seeking plunder in the _South Sea_, the French Flibustiers had not been inactive in the _West Indies_, notwithstanding that the French government, after the conclusion of the war with _Spain_, issued orders prohibiting the subjects of _France_ in the _West Indies_ from cruising against the Spaniards. A short time before this order arrived, a cruising commission had been given to Granmont, who had thereupon collected men, and made preparation for an expedition to the _Tierra Firma_; and they did not choose that so much pains should be taken to no purpose. The French settlers generally, were at this time much dissatisfied on account of some regulations imposed upon them by the Company of Farmers, whose privileges and authority extended to fixing the price upon growth, the produce of the soil; and which they exercised upon tobacco, the article then most cultivated by the French in _Hispaniola_, rigorously requiring the planters to deliver it to the Company at the price so prescribed. Many of the inhabitants, ill brooking to live under such a system of robbery, made preparations to withdraw to the English and Dutch settlements; but their discontent on this account was much allayed by the Governor writing a remonstrance to the French Minister, and promising them his influence towards obtaining a suppression of the farming tobacco. Fresh cause of discontent soon occurred, by a monopoly of the French African Slave Trade being put into the hands of a new company, which was named the _Senegal_ Company. [Sidenote: Disregarded by the French Buccaneers.] Granmont and the Flibustiers engaged with him, went to the coast of _Cumana_, where they did considerable mischief to the Spaniards, with some loss, and little profit, to themselves. [Sidenote: 1680-1. Sir Henry Morgan, Deputy Governor of Jamaica. His Severity to the Buccaneers.] In the autumn of this same year, the Earl of Carlisle, who was Governor of _Jamaica_, finding the climate did not agree with his constitution, returned to _England_, and left as his Deputy to govern in _Jamaica_, Morgan, the plunderer of _Panama_, but who was now Sir Henry Morgan. This man had found favour with King Charles II. or with his Ministers, had been knighted, and appointed a Commissioner of the Admiralty Court in _Jamaica_. On becoming Deputy Governor, his administration was far from being favourable to his old associates, some of whom suffered the extreme hardship of being tried and hanged under his authority; and one crew of Buccaneers, most of them Englishmen, who fell into his hands, he sent to be delivered up (it may be presumed that he sold them) to the Spaniards at _Carthagena_. Morgan's authority as Governor was terminated the following year, by the arrival of a Governor from _England_[30]. The impositions on planting and commerce in the French settlements, in the same degree that they discouraged cultivation, encouraged cruising, and the Flibustier party so much increased, as to have little danger to apprehend from any Governor's authority. [Sidenote: 1683.] The matter however did not come to issue, for in 1683, war again broke out between _France_ and _Spain_. But before the intelligence arrived in the _West Indies_, 1200 French Flibustiers had assembled under Van Horn (a native of _Ostend_), Granmont, and another noted Flibustier named Laurent de Graaf, to make an expedition against the Spaniards. [Sidenote: Van Horn, Granmont, and de Graaf, go against La Vera Cruz.] Van Horn had been a notorious pirate, and for a number of years had plundered generally, without shewing partiality or favour to ships of one nation more than to those of another. After amassing great riches, he began to think plain piracy too dangerous an occupation, and determined to reform, which he did by making his peace with the French Governor in _Hispaniola_, and turning Buccaneer or Flibustier, into which fraternity he was admitted on paying entrance. The expedition which he undertook in conjunction with Granmont and de Graaf, was against _La Vera Cruz_ in the _Gulf of Mexico_, a town which might be considered as the magazine for all the merchandise which passed between _New Spain_ and _Old Spain_, and was defended by a fort, said to be impregnable. The Flibustiers sailed for this place with a fleet of ten ships. They had information that two large Spanish ships, with cargoes of cacao, were expected at _La Vera Cruz_ from the _Caraccas_; and upon this intelligence, they put in practice the following expedient. [Sidenote: They surprise the Town by Stratagem.] They embarked the greater number of their men on board two of their largest ships, which, on arriving near _La Vera Cruz_, put aloft Spanish colours, and ran, with all sail set, directly for the port like ships chased, the rest of the Buccaneer ships appearing at a distance behind, crowding sail after them. The inhabitants of _La Vera Cruz_ believed the two headmost ships to be those which were expected from the _Caraccas_; and, as the Flibustiers had contrived that they should not reach the port till after dark, suffered them to enter without offering them molestation, and to anchor close to the town, which they did without being suspected to be enemies. In the middle of the night, the Flibustiers landed, and surprised the fort, which made them masters of the town. The Spaniards of the garrison, and all the inhabitants who fell into their hands, they shut up in the churches, where they were kept three days, and with so little care for their subsistence that several died from thirst, and some by drinking immoderately when water was at length given to them. With the plunder, and what was obtained for ransom of the town, it is said the Flibustiers carried away a million of piastres, besides a number of slaves and prisoners. Van Horn shorty after died of a wound received in a quarrel with De Graaf. The ship he had commanded, which mounted fifty guns, was bequeathed by him to Granmont, who a short time before had lost a ship of nearly the same force in a gale of wind. Some quarrels happened at this time between the French Flibustiers and the English Buccaneers, which are differently related by the English and the French writers. The French account says, that in a Spanish ship captured by the Flibustiers, was found a letter from the Governor of _Jamaica_ addressed to the Governor of the _Havannah_, proposing a union of their force to drive the French from _Hispaniola_. [Sidenote: Story of Granmont and an English Ship.] Also, that an English ship of 30 guns came cruising near _Tortuga_, and when the Governor of _Tortuga_ sent a sloop to demand of the English Captain his business there, the Englishman insolently replied, that the sea was alike free to all, and he had no account to render to any one. For this answer, the Governor sent out a ship to take the English ship, but the Governor's ship was roughly treated, and obliged to retire into port. Granmont had just returned from the _La Vera Cruz_ expedition, and the Governor applied to him, to go with his fifty gun ship to revenge the affront put upon their nation. 'Granmont,' says the Narrator, 'accepted the commission joyfully. Three hundred Flibustiers embarked with him in his ship; he found the Englishman proud of his late victory; he immediately grappled with him and put all the English crew to the sword, saving only the Captain, who he carried prisoner to _Cape François_.' On the merit of this service, his disobedience to the royal prohibitory order in attacking _La Vera Cruz_ was to pass with impunity. The English were not yet sufficiently punished; the account proceeds, 'Our Flibustiers would no longer receive them as partakers in their enterprises, and even confiscated the share they were entitled to receive for the _La Vera Cruz_ expedition.' Thus the French account. If the story of demolishing the English crew is true, the fact is not more absurd than the being vain of such an exploit. If a fifty gun ship will determine to sink a thirty gun ship, the thirty gun ship must in all probability be sunk. The affront given, if it deserves to be called an affront, was not worthy being revenged with a massacre. The story is found only in the French histories, the writers of which it may be suspected were moved to make Granmont deal so unmercifully with the English crew, by the kind of feeling which so generally prevails between nations who are near neighbours. To this it may be attributed that Père Charlevoix, both a good historian and good critic, has adopted the story; but had it been believed by him, he would have related it in a more rational manner, and not with exultation. English writers mention a disagreement which happened about this time between Granmont and the English Buccaneers, on account of his taking a sloop belonging to _Jamaica_, and forcing the crew to serve under him; but which crew found opportunity to take advantage of some disorder in his ship, and to escape in the night[31]. This seems to have been the whole fact; for an outrage such as is affirmed by the French writers, could not have been committed and have been boasted of by one side, without incurring reproach from the other. The French Government was highly offended at the insubordination and unmanageableness of the Flibustiers in _Hispaniola_, and no one was more so than the French King, Louis XIV. Towards reducing them to a more orderly state, instructions were sent to the Governors in the _West Indies_ to be strict in making them observe Port regulations; the principal of which were, that all vessels should register their crew and lading before their departure, and also at their return into port; that they should abstain from cruising in times of peace, and should take out regular commissions in times of war; and that they should pay the dues of the crown, one _item_ of which was a tenth of all prizes and plunder. [Sidenote: Disputes of the French Governors with the Flibustiers of Saint Domingo.] The number of the French Flibustiers in 1684, was estimated to be 3000. The French Government desired to convert them into settlers. A letter written in that year from the French Minister to the Governor General of the French West-India Islands, has this remarkable expression: 'His Majesty esteems nothing more important than to render these vagabonds good inhabitants of _Saint Domingo_.' Such being the disposition of the French Government, it was an oversight that they did not contribute towards so desirable a purpose by making some abatement in the impositions which oppressed and retarded cultivation, which would have conciliated the Colonists, and have been encouragement to the Flibustiers to become planters. But the Colonists still had to struggle against farming the tobacco, which they had in vain attempted to get commuted for some other burthen, and many cultivators of that plant were reduced to indigence. The greediness of the French chartered companies appears in the _Senegal_ Company making it a subject of complaint, that the Flibustiers sold the negroes they took from the Spaniards to whomsoever they pleased, to the prejudice of the interest of the Company. It was unreasonable to expect the Flibustiers would give up their long accustomed modes of gain, sanctioned as they had hitherto been by the acquiescence and countenance of the French Government, and turn planters, under circumstances discouraging to industry. Their number likewise rendered it necessary to observe mildness and forbearance in the endeavour to reform them; but both the encouragement and the forbearance were neglected; and in consequence of their being made to apprehend rigorous treatment in their own settlements, many removed to the British and Dutch Islands. The French Flibustiers were unsuccessful at this time in some enterprises they undertook in the _Bay of Campeachy_, where they lost many men: on the other hand, three of their ships, commanded by De Graaf, Michel le Basque, and another Flibustier named Jonqué, engaged and took three Spanish ships which were sent purposely against them out of _Carthagena_. CHAP. XII. _Circumstances which preceded the Second Irruption of the Buccaneers into the =South Sea=. Buccaneers under =John Cook= sail from =Virginia=; stop at the =Cape de Verde Islands=; at =Sierra Leone=. Origin and History of the Report concerning the supposed Discovery of =Pepys Island=._ The Prohibitions being enforced, determined many, both of the English Buccaneers and of the French Flibustiers, to seek their fortunes in the _South Sea_, where they would be at a distance from the control of any established authority. This determination was not a matter generally concerted. The first example was speedily followed, and a trip to the _South Sea_ in a short time became a prevailing fashion among them. Expeditions were undertaken by different bodies of men unconnected with each other, except when accident, or the similarity of their pursuits, brought them together. [Sidenote: Circumstances preceding the Second Irruption of the Buccaneers into the South Sea.] Among the Buccaneers in the expedition of 1680 to the _South Sea_, who from dislike to Sharp's command returned across the _Isthmus of Darien_ at the same time with Dampier, was one John Cook, who on arriving again in the _West Indies_, entered on board a vessel commanded by a Dutchman of the name of Yanky, which was fitted up as a privateer, and provided with a French commission to cruise against the Spaniards. Cook, being esteemed a capable seaman, was made Quarter-Master, by which title, in privateers as well as in buccaneer vessels, the officer next in command to the Captain was called. Cook continued Quarter-Master with Yanky till they took a Spanish ship which was thought well adapted for a cruiser. Cook claimed to have the command of this ship, and, according to the usage among privateers in such cases, she was allotted to him, with a crew composed of men who volunteered to sail with him. Dampier was of the number, as were several others who had returned from the _South Sea_; division was made of the prize goods, and Cook entered on his new command. [Sidenote: 1683.] This arrangement took place at _Isla Vaca_, or _Isle a Vache_, a small Island near the South coast of _Hispaniola_, which was then much resorted to by both privateers and Buccaneers. It happened at this time, that besides Yanky's ship, some French privateers having legal commissions, were lying at _Avache_, and their Commanders did not contentedly behold men without a commission, and who were but Buccaneers, in the possession of a finer ship than any belonging to themselves who cruised under lawful authority. The occasion being so fair, and remembering what Morgan had done in a case something similar, after short counsel, they joined together, and seized the buccaneer ship, goods, and arms, and turned the crew ashore. A fellow-feeling that still existed between the privateers and Buccaneers, and probably a want of hands, induced a Captain Tristian, who commanded one of the privateers, to receive into his ship ten of the Buccaneers to be part of his crew. Among these were Cook, and a Buccaneer afterwards of greater note, named Edward Davis. Tristian sailed to _Petit Guaves_, where the ship had not been long at anchor, before himself and the greatest part of his men went on shore. Cook and his companions thought this also a fair occasion, and accordingly they made themselves masters of the ship. Those of Tristian's men who were on board, they turned ashore, and immediately taking up the anchors, sailed back close in to the _Isle a Vache_, where, before notice of their exploit reached the Governor, they collected and took on board the remainder of their old company, and sailed away. They had scarcely left the _Isle a Vache_, when they met and captured two vessels, one of which was a ship from _France_ laden with wines. Thinking it unsafe to continue longer in the _West Indies_, they directed their course for _Virginia_, where they arrived with their prizes in April 1683. [Sidenote: August, 1683. Buccaneers under John Cook sail for the South Sea.] In _Virginia_ they disposed of their prize goods, and two vessels, keeping one with which they proposed to make a voyage to the _South Sea_, and which they named the Revenge. She mounted 18 guns, and the number of adventurers who embarked in her, were about seventy, the major part of them old Buccaneers, some of whose names have since been much noted, as William Dampier, Edward Davis, Lionel Wafer, Ambrose Cowley, and John Cook their Captain. August the 23d, 1683, they sailed from the _Chesapeak_. Dampier and Cowley have both related their piratical adventures, but with some degree of caution, to prevent bringing upon themselves a charge of piracy. Cowley pretended that he was engaged to sail in the Revenge to navigate her, but was kept in ignorance of the design of the voyage, and made to believe they were bound for the _Island Hispaniola_; and that it was not revealed to him till after they got out to sea, that instead of to the _West Indies_, they were bound to the coast of _Guinea_, there to seek for a better ship, in which they might sail to the _Great South Sea_. William Dampier, who always shews respect for truth, would not stoop to dissimulation; but he forbears being circumstantial concerning the outset of this voyage, and the particulars of their proceedings whilst in the _Atlantic_; supplying the chasm in the following general terms; "August the 23d, 1683, we sailed from _Virginia_ under the command of Captain Cook, bound for the _South Seas_. I shall not trouble the reader with an account of every day's run, but hasten to the less known parts of the world." [Sidenote: Cape de Verde Islands.] Whilst near the coast of _Virginia_ they met a Dutch ship, out of which they took six casks of wine; and other provisions; also two Dutch seamen, who voluntarily entered with them. [Sidenote: September.] Some time in September they anchored at the _Isle of Sal_, where they procured fish and a few goats, but neither fruits nor good fresh water. Only five men lived on the Island, who were all black; but they called themselves Portuguese, and one was styled the Governor. [Sidenote: Ambergris.] These Portuguese exchanged a lump of ambergris, or what was supposed to be ambergris, for old clothes. Dampier says, 'not a man in the ship knew ambergris, but I have since seen it in other places, and am certain this was not the right; it was of a dark colour, like sheep's dung, very soft, but of no smell; and possibly was goat's dung. Some I afterwards saw sold at the _Nicobars_ in the _East Indies_, was of lighter colour, and very hard, neither had that any smell, and I suppose was also a cheat. Mr. Hill, a surgeon, once shewed me a piece of ambergris, and related to me, that one Mr. Benjamin Barker, a man I have been long well acquainted with, and know to be a very sober and credible person, told this Mr. Hill, that being in the _Bay of Honduras_, he found in a sandy bay upon the shore of an Island, a lump of ambergris so large, that when carried to _Jamaica_, it was found to weigh upwards of 100 _lbs._ When he found it, it lay dry above the mark of the sea at high water, and in it were a great multitude of beetles. It was of a dusky colour, towards black, about the hardness of mellow cheese, and of a very fragrant smell. What Mr. Hill shewed me was some of it, which Mr. Barker had given him[32].' [Sidenote: The Flamingo.] There were wild-fowl at _Sal_; and Flamingos, of which, and their manner of building their nests, Dampier has given a description. The flesh of the Flamingo is lean and black, yet good meat, 'tasting neither fishy nor any way unsavory. A dish of Flamingos' tongues is fit for a Prince's table: they are large, and have a knob of fat at the root which is an excellent bit. When many of them stand together, at a distance they appear like a brick wall; for their feathers are of the colour of new red brick, and, except when feeding, they commonly stand upright, exactly in a row close by each other.' [Sidenote: Cape de Verde Islands.] From the Isle of _Sal_ they went to other of the _Cape de Verde Islands_. At _St. Nicholas_ they watered the ship by digging wells, and at _Mayo_ they procured some provisions. They afterwards sailed to the Island _St. Jago_, but a Dutch ship was lying at anchor in _Port Praya_, which fired her guns at them as soon as they came within reach of shot, and the Buccaneers thought it prudent to stand out again to sea. [Sidenote: November. Coast of Guinea.] They next sailed to the coast of _Guinea_, which they made in the beginning of November, near _Sierra Leone_. A large ship was at anchor in the road, which proved to be a Dane. On sight of her, and all the time they were standing into the road, all the Buccaneer crew, except a few men to manage the sails, kept under deck; which gave their ship the appearance of being a weakly manned merchant-vessel. When they drew near the Danish ship, which they did with intention to board her, the Buccaneer Commander, to prevent suspicion, gave direction in a loud voice to the steersman to put the helm one way; and, according to the plan preconcerted, the steersman put it the contrary, so that their vessel seemed to fall on board the Dane through mistake. By this stratagem, they surprised, and, with the loss of five men, became masters of a ship mounting 36 guns, which was victualled and stored for a long voyage. This achievement is related circumstantially in Cowley's manuscript Journal[33]; but in his published account he only says, 'near Cape _Sierra Leone_, we alighted on a new ship of 40 guns, which we boarded and carried her away.' [Sidenote: Sherborough River.] They went with their prize to a river South of the _Sierra Leone_, called the _Sherborough_, to which they were safely piloted through channels among shoals, by one of the crew who had been there before. At the River _Sherborough_ there was then an English factory, but distant from where they anchored. Near them was a large town inhabited by negroes, who traded freely, selling them rice, fowls, plantains, sugar-canes, palm-wine, and honey. The town was skreened from shipping by a grove of trees. The Buccaneers embarked here all in their new ship, and named her the Batchelor's Delight. Their old ship they burnt, 'that she might tell no tales,' and set their prisoners on shore, to shift as well as they could for themselves. They sailed from the coast of Guinea in the middle of November, directing their course across the _Atlantic_ towards the _Strait of Magalhanes_. [Sidenote: January, 1684.] On January the 28th, 1684, they had sight of the Northernmost of the Islands discovered by Captain John Davis in 1592, (since, among other appellations, called the _Sebald de Weert Islands_.) From the circumstance of their falling in with this land, originated the extraordinary report of an Island being discovered in the _Southern Atlantic Ocean_ in lat. 47° S, and by Cowley named _Pepys Island_; which was long believed to exist, and has been sought after by navigators of different European nations, even within our own time. The following are the particulars which caused so great a deception. [Sidenote: History of the Report of a Discovery named Pepys Island.] Cowley says, in his manuscript Journal, 'January 1683: This month we were in latitude 47° 40', where we espied an Island bearing West of us, and bore away for it, but being too late we lay by all night. The Island seemed very pleasant to the eye, with many woods. I may say the whole Island was woods, there being a rock above water to the Eastward of it with innumerable fowls. I sailed along that Island to the Southward, and about the SW side of the Island there seemed to me to be a good place for ships to ride. The wind blew fresh, and they would not put the boat out. Sailing a little further, having 26 and 27 fathoms water, we came to a place where we saw the weeds ride, and found only seven fathoms water and all rocky ground, therefore we put the ship about: but the harbour seemed a good place for ships to ride in. There seemed to me harbour for 500 sail of shipping, the going in but narrow, and the North side of the entrance shallow that I could see: but I think there is water enough on the South side. I would have had them stand upon a wind all night; but they told me they did not come out to go upon discovery. We saw likewise another Island by this, which made me to think them the _Sibble D'wards_[34].' The latitude given by Cowley is to be attributed to his ignorance, and to this part of his narrative being composed from memory, which he acknowledges, though it is not so stated in the printed Narrative. His describing the land to be covered with wood, is sufficiently accounted for by the appearance it makes at a distance, which in the same manner has deceived other voyagers. Pernety, in his Introduction to M. de Bougainville's Voyage to the _Malouines_ (by which name the French Voyagers have chosen to call _John Davis's Islands_) says, 'As to wood, we were deceived by appearances in running along the coast of the _Malouines_: we thought we saw some, but on landing, these appearances were discovered to be only tall bulrushes with large flat leaves, such as are called corn flags[35].' The Editor of Cowley's Journal, William Hack, might possibly believe from the latitude mentioned by Cowley, that the land seen by him was a new discovery. To give it a less doubtful appearance, he dropped the 40 minutes of latitude, and also Cowley's conjecture that the land was the _Sebald de Weerts_; and with this falsification of the Journal, he took occasion to compliment the Honourable Mr. Pepys, who was then Secretary of the Admiralty, by putting his name to the land, giving as Cowley's words, 'In the latitude of 47°, we saw land, the same being an Island not before known. I gave it the name of _Pepys Island_.' Hack embellished this account with a drawing of _Pepys Island_, in which is introduced an _Admiralty Bay_, and _Secretary's Point_. The account which Dampier has given of their falling in with this land, would have cleared up the whole matter, but for a circumstance which is far more extraordinary than any yet mentioned, which is, that it long escaped notice, and seems never to have been generally understood, that Dampier and Cowley were at this time in the same ship, and their voyage thus far the same. Dampier says, 'January the 28th (1683-4) we made the _Sebald de Weerts_. They are three rocky barren Islands without any tree, only some bushes growing on them. The two Northernmost lie in 51° S, the other in 51° 20' S. We could not come near the two Northern Islands, but we came close by the Southern; but we could not obtain soundings till within two cables' length of the shore, and there found the bottom to be foul rocky ground[36].' In consequence of the inattention, or oversight, in not perceiving that Dampier and Cowley were speaking of the same land, Hack's ingenious adulation of the Secretary of the Admiralty flourished a full century undetected; a _Pepys Island_ being all the time admitted in the charts. [Sidenote: Shoals of small red Lobsters.] Near these Islands the variation was observed 23° 10' Easterly. They passed through great shoals of small red lobsters, 'no bigger than the top of a man's little finger, yet all their claws, both great and small, were like a lobster. I never saw,' says Dampier, 'any of this sort of fish naturally red, except here.' The winds blew hard from the Westward, and they could not fetch the _Strait of Magalhanes_. [Sidenote: February.] On February the 6th, they were at the entrance of _Strait le Maire_, when it fell calm, and a strong tide set out of the _Strait_ Northward, which made a short irregular sea, as in a race, or place where two tides meet, and broke over the waist of the ship, 'which was tossed about like an egg-shell.' [Sidenote: They sail by the East end of Staten Island; and enter the South Sea.] A breeze springing up from the WNW, they bore away Eastward, and passed round the East end of _Staten Island_; after which they saw no other land till they came into the _South Sea_. They had much rain, and took advantage of it to fill 23 casks with fresh water. [Sidenote: March.] March the 17th, they were in latitude 36° S, standing for the _Island Juan Fernandez_. Variation 8° East. CHAP. XIII. _Buccaneers under =John Cook= arrive at =Juan Fernandez=. Account of =William=, a Mosquito Indian, who had lived there three years. They sail to the =Galapagos Islands=; thence to the Coast of =New Spain=. =John Cook= dies. =Edward Davis= chosen Commander._ [Sidenote: 1684. March 19th.] Continuing their course for _Juan Fernandez_, on the 19th in the morning, a strange ship was seen to the Southward, standing after them under all her sail. The Buccaneers were in hopes she would prove to be a Spaniard, and brought to, to wait her coming up. The people on board the strange vessel entertained similar expectations, for they also were English, and were come to the _South Sea_ to pick up what they could. This ship was named the Nicholas; her Commander John Eaton; she fitted out in the River _Thames_ under pretence of a trading, but in reality with the intention of making a piratical voyage. [Sidenote: Joined by the Nicholas of London, John Eaton Commander.] The two ships soon joined, and on its being found that they had come on the same errand to the _South Sea_, Cook and Eaton and their men agreed to keep company together. It was learnt from Eaton that another English ship, named the Cygnet, commanded by a Captain Swan, had sailed from _London_ for the _South Sea_; but fitted out by reputable merchants, and provided with a cargo for a trading voyage, having a licence from the Duke of York, then Lord High Admiral of _England_. The Cygnet and the Nicholas had met at the entrance of the _Strait of Magalhanes_, and they entered the _South Sea_ in company, but had since been separated by bad weather. [Sidenote: March 22d.] March the 22d, the Batchelor's Delight and the Nicholas came in sight of the Island _Juan Fernandez_. [Sidenote: At Juan Fernandez. William the Mosquito Indian.] The reader may remember that when the Buccaneers under Watling were at _Juan Fernandez_ in January 1681, the appearance of three Spanish ships made them quit the Island in great haste, and they left behind a Mosquito Indian named William, who was in the woods hunting for goats. Several of the Buccaneers who were then with Watling were now with Cook, and, eager to discover if any traces could be found which would enable them to conjecture what was become of their former companion, but with small hope of finding him still here, as soon as they were near enough for a boat to be sent from the ship, they hastened to the shore. Dampier was in this first boat, as was also a Mosquito Indian named Robin; and as they drew near the land, they had the satisfaction to see William at the sea-side waiting to receive them. Dampier has given the following affecting account of their meeting: 'Robin, his countryman, was the first who leaped ashore from the boats, and running to his brother _Moskito_ man, threw himself flat on his face at his feet, who helping him up and embracing him, fell flat with his face on the ground at Robin's feet, and was by him taken up also. We stood with pleasure to behold the surprise, tenderness, and solemnity of this interview, which was exceedingly affectionate on both sides: and when their ceremonies were over, we also that stood gazing at them, drew near, each of us embracing him we had found here, who was overjoyed to see so many of his old friends, come hither as he thought purposely to fetch him. He was named Will, as the other was Robin; which names were given them by the English, for they have no names among themselves, and they take it as a favour to be named by us, and will complain if we do not appoint them some name when they are with us.' William had lived in solitude on _Juan Fernandez_ above three years. The Spaniards knew of his being on the Island, and Spanish ships had stopped there, the people belonging to which had made keen search after him; but he kept himself concealed, and they could never discover his retreat. At the time Watling sailed from the Island, he had a musket, a knife, a small horn of powder, and a few shot. 'When his ammunition was expended, he contrived by notching his knife, to saw the barrel of his gun into small pieces, wherewith he made harpoons, lances, hooks, and a long knife, heating the pieces of iron first in the fire, and then hammering them out as he pleased with stones. This may seem strange to those not acquainted with the sagacity of the Indians; but it is no more than what the Moskito men were accustomed to in their own country.' He had worn out the clothes with which he landed, and was not otherwise clad than with a skin about his waist. He made fishing lines of the skins of seals cut into thongs. 'He had built himself a hut, half a mile from the sea-shore, which he lined with goats' skins, and slept on his couch or _barbecu_ of sticks raised about two feet from the ground, and spread with goats' skins.' He saw the two ships commanded by Cook and Eaton the day before they anchored, and from their manoeuvring believing them to be English, he killed three goats, which he drest with vegetables; thus preparing a treat for his friends on their landing; and there has seldom been a more fair and joyful occasion for festivity. [Sidenote: Stocked with Goats by its Discoverer.] Dampier reckoned two bays in _Juan Fernandez_ proper for ships to anchor in; 'both at the East end, and in each there is a rivulet of good fresh water.' He mentions (it may be supposed on the authority of Spanish information) that this Island was stocked with goats by Juan Fernandez, its discoverer, who, in a second voyage to it, landed three or four of these animals, and they quickly multiplied. Also, that Juan Fernandez had formed a plan of settling here, if he could have obtained a patent or royal grant of the Island; which was refused him[37]. The Buccaneers found here a good supply of provisions in goats, wild vegetables, seals, sea-lions, and fish. Dampier says, 'the seals at _Juan Fernandez_ are as big as calves, and have a fine thick short fur, the like I have not taken notice of any where but in these seas. The teeth of the sea-lion are the bigness of a man's thumb: in Captain Sharp's time, some of the Buccaneers made dice of them. Both the sea-lion and the seal eat fish, which I believe is their common food.' [Sidenote: Coast of Peru.] April the 8th, the Batchelor's Delight and Nicholas sailed from _Juan Fernandez_ for the American coast, which they made in latitude 24° S, and sailed Northward, keeping sight of the land, but at a good distance. [Sidenote: May.] On May the 3d, in latitude 9° 40' S, they took a Spanish ship laden with timber. [Sidenote: Appearance of the Andes.] Dampier remarks that 'from the latitude of 24° S to 17°, and from 14° to 10° S, the land within the coast is of a prodigious height. It lies generally in ridges parallel to the shore, one within another, each surpassing the other in height, those inland being the highest. They always appear blue when seen from sea, and are seldom obscured by clouds or fogs. These mountains far surpass the _Peak of Teneriffe_, or the land of _Santa Martha_.' [Sidenote: Islands Lobos de la Mar.] On the 9th, they anchored at the Islands _Lobos de la Mar_. 'This _Lobos_ consists of two little Islands each about a mile round, of indifferent height, with a channel between fit only for boats. Several rocks lie on the North side of the Islands. There is a small cove, or sandy bay, sheltered from the winds, at the West end of the Easternmost Island, where ships may careen. There is good riding between the Easternmost Island and the rocks, in 10, 12, or 14 fathoms; for the wind is commonly at S, or SSE, and the Easternmost Island lying East and West, shelters that road. Both the Islands are barren, without fresh water, tree, shrub, grass, or herb; but sea-fowls, seals, and sea-lions were here in multitudes[38].' On a review of their strength, they mustered in the two ships 108 men fit for service, besides their sick. They remained at the _Lobos de la Mar_ Isles till the 17th, when three vessels coming in sight, they took up their anchors and gave chace. They captured all the three, which were laden with provisions, principally flour, and bound for _Panama_. They learnt from the prisoners that the English ship Cygnet had been at _Baldivia_, and that the Viceroy on information of strange ships having entered the _South Sea_, had ordered treasure which had been shipped for _Panama_ to be re-landed. [Sidenote: They sail to the Galapagos Islands.] The Buccaneers, finding they were expected on the coast, determined to go with their prizes first to the _Galapagos Islands_, and afterwards to the coast of _New Spain_. They arrived in sight of the _Galapagos_ on the 31st; but were not enough to the Southward to fetch the Southern Islands, the wind being from SbE, which Dampier remarks is the common trade-wind in this part of the _Pacific_. Many instances occur in _South Sea_ navigations which shew the disadvantage of not keeping well to the South in going to the _Galapagos_. [Sidenote: Duke of Norfolk's Island.] The two ships anchored near the North East part of one of the Easternmost Islands, in 16 fathoms, the bottom white hard sand, a mile distant from the shore. It was during this visit of the Buccaneers to the _Galapagos_, that the chart of these Islands which was published with Cowley's voyage was made. Considering the small opportunity for surveying which was afforded by their track, it may be reckoned a good chart, and has the merit both of being the earliest survey known of these Islands, and of having continued in use to this day; the latest charts we have of the _Galapagos_ being founded upon this original, and (setting aside the additions) varying little from it in the general outlines. Where Cook and Eaton first anchored, appears to be the _Duke of Norfolk's Island_ of Cowley's chart. They found there sea turtle and land turtle, but could stop only one night, on account of two of their prizes, which being deeply laden had fallen too far to leeward to fetch the same anchorage. [Sidenote: June. King James's Island.] The day following, they sailed on to the next Island Westward (marked _King James's Island_ in the chart) and anchored at its North end, a quarter of a mile distant from the shore, in 15 fathoms. Dampier observed the latitude of the North part of this second Island, 0° 28' N, which is considerably more North than it is placed in Cowley's chart. The riding here was very uncertain, 'the bottom being so steep that if an anchor starts, it never holds again.' [Sidenote: Mistake made by the Editor of Dampier's Voyages.] An error has been committed in the printed Narrative of Dampier, which it may be useful to notice. It is there said, 'The Island at which we first anchored hath water on the North end, falling down in a stream from high steep rocks upon the sandy bay, where it may be taken up.' Concerning so essential an article to mariners as fresh water, no information can be too minute to deserve attention. [Sidenote: Concerning Fresh Water at King James's Island.] In the manuscript Journal, Dampier says of the first Island at which they anchored, 'we found there the largest land turtle I ever saw; but the Island is rocky and barren, without wood or water.' At the next Island at which they anchored, both Dampier and Cowley mention fresh water being found. Cowley says, 'this Bay I called _Albany Bay_, and another place _York Road_. Here is excellent sweet water.' Dampier also in the margin of his written Journal where the second anchorage is mentioned, has inserted the note following: 'At the North end of the Island we saw water running down from the rocks.' The editor or corrector of the press has mistakenly applied this to the first anchorage. [Sidenote: Herbage on the North end of Albemarle Island.] Cowley, after assigning names to the different Islands, adds, 'We could find no good water on any of these places, save on the _Duke of York's_ [_i. e. King James's_] _Island_. But at the North end of _Albemarle Island_ there were green leaves of a thick substance which we chewed to quench our thirst: and there were abundance of fowls in this Island which could not live without water, though we could not find it[39].' Animal food was furnished by the _Galapagos Islands_ in profusion, and of the most delicate kind; of vegetables nothing of use was found except the mammee, the leaves just noticed and berries. The name _Galapagos_ which has been assigned to these Islands, signifies Turtle in the Spanish language, and was given to them on account of the great numbers of those animals, both of the sea and land kind, found there. Guanoes, an amphibious animal well known in the _West Indies_, fish, flamingoes, and turtle-doves so tame that they would alight upon the men's heads, were all in great abundance; and convenient for preserving meat, salt was plentiful at the _Galapagos_. Some green snakes were the only other animals seen there. [Sidenote: Land Turtle.] The full-grown land turtle were from 150 to 200 _lbs._ in weight. Dampier says, 'so sweet that no pullet can eat more pleasantly. They are very fat; the oil saved from them was kept in jars, and used instead of butter to eat with dough-boys or dumplings.'--'We lay here feeding sometimes on land turtle, sometimes on sea turtle, there being plenty of either sort; but the land turtle, as they exceed in sweetness, so do they in numbers: it is incredible to report how numerous they are.' [Sidenote: Sea Turtle.] The sea turtle at the _Galapagos_ are of the larger kind of those called the Green Turtle. Dampier thought their flesh not so good as the green turtle of the _West Indies_. Dampier describes the _Galapagos Isles_ to be generally of good height: 'four or five of the Easternmost Islands are rocky, hilly, and barren, producing neither tree, herb, nor grass; but only a green prickly shrub that grows 10 or 12 feet high, as big as a man's leg, and is full of sharp prickles in thick rows from top to bottom, without leaf or fruit. In some places by the sea side grow bushes of Burton wood (a sort of wood which grows in the _West Indies_) which is good firing. [Sidenote: Mammee Tree.] Some of the Westernmost of these Islands are nine or ten leagues long, have fertile land with mold deep and black; and these produce trees of various kinds, some of great and tall bodies, especially the Mammee. The heat is not so violent here as in many other places under the Equator. The time of year for the rains, is in November, December, and January.' At _Albany Bay_, and at other of the Islands, the Buccaneers built storehouses, in which they lodged 5000 packs of their prize flour, and a quantity of sweetmeats, to remain as a reserved store to which they might have recourse on any future occasion. Part of this provision was landed at the Islands Northward of _King James's Island_, to which they went in search of fresh water, but did not find any. They endeavoured to sail back to the _Duke of York's Island_, Cowley says, 'there to have watered,' but a current setting Northward prevented them. [Sidenote: 12th. They sail from the Galapagos.] On June the 12th, they sailed from the _Galapagos Islands_ for the Island _Cocos_, where they proposed to water. The wind at this time was South; but they expected they should find, as they went Northward, the general trade-wind blowing from the East; and in that persuasion they steered more Easterly than the line of direction in which _Cocos_ lay from them, imagining that when they came to the latitude of the Island, they would have to bear down upon it before the wind. Contrary however to this expectation, as they advanced Northward they found the wind more Westerly, till it settled at SWbS, and they got so far Eastward, that they crossed the parallel of _Cocos_ without being able to come in sight of it. [Sidenote: July. Coast of New Spain. Cape Blanco.] Missing _Cocos_, they sailed on Northward for the coast of _New Spain_. In the beginning of July, they made the West Cape of the _Gulf of Nicoya_. 'This Cape is about the height of _Beachy Head_, and was named _Blanco_, on account of two white rocks lying about half a mile from it, which to those who are far off at sea, appear as part of the mainland; but on coming nearer, they appear like two ships under sail[40].' [Sidenote: John Cook, Buccaneer Commander, dies. Edward Davis chosen Commander.] The day on which they made this land, the Buccaneer Commander, John Cook, who had been some time ill, died. Edward Davis, the Quarter-Master, was unanimously elected by the company to succeed in the command. CHAP. XIV. _=Edward Davis= Commander. On the coast of =New Spain= and =Peru=. Algatrane, a bituminous earth. =Davis= is joined by other Buccaneers. =Eaton= sails to the East Indies. =Guayaquil= attempted. Rivers of =St. Jago=, and =Tomaco=. In the Bay of =Panama=. Arrivals of numerous parties of Buccaneers across the =Isthmus= from the =West Indies=._ [Sidenote: 1684. July. Coast of New Spain. Caldera Bay.] Dampier describes the coast of _New Spain_ immediately westward of the _Cape Blanco_ last mentioned, to fall in to the NE about four leagues, making a small bay, which is by the Spaniards called _Caldera_[41]. Within the entrance of this bay, a league from _Cape Blanco_, was a small brook of very good water running into the sea. The land here is low, making a saddle between two small hills. The ships anchored near the brook, in good depth, on a bottom of clean hard sand; and at this place, their deceased Commander was taken on shore and buried. The country appeared thin of inhabitants, and the few seen were shy of coming near strangers. Two Indians however were caught. Some cattle were seen grazing near the shore, at a Beef _Estançian_ or Farm, three miles distant from where the ships lay. Two boats were sent thither to bring cattle, having with them one of the Indians for a guide. They arrived at the farm towards evening, and some of the Buccaneers proposed that they should remain quiet till daylight next morning, when they might surround the cattle and drive a number of them into a pen or inclosure; others of the party disliked this plan, and one of the boats returned to the ships. Twelve men, with the other boat, remained, who hauled their boat dry up on the beach, and went and took their lodgings for the night by the farm. When the morning arrived, they found the people of the country had collected, and saw about 40 armed men preparing to attack them. The Buccaneers hastened as speedily as they could to the sea-side where they had left their boat, and found her in flames. 'The Spaniards now thought they had them secure, and some called to them to ask if they would be pleased to walk to their plantations; to which never a word was answered.' Fortunately for the Buccaneers, a rock appeared just above water at some distance from the shore, and the way to it being fordable, they waded thither. This served as a place of protection against the enemy, 'who only now and then whistled a shot among them.' It was at about half ebb tide when they took to the rock for refuge; on the return of the flood, the rock became gradually covered. They had been in this situation seven hours, when a boat arrived, sent from the ships in search of them. The rise and fall of the tide here was eight feet perpendicular, and the tide was still rising at the time the boat came to their relief; so that their peril from the sea when on the rock was not less than it had been from the Spaniards when they were on shore. From _Caldera Bay_, they sailed for _Ria-lexa_. [Sidenote: Volcan Viejo. Ria-lexa Harbour.] The coast near _Ria-lexa_ is rendered remarkable by a high peaked mountain called _Volcan Viejo_ (the Old Volcano.) 'When the mountain bears NE, ships may steer directly in for it, which course will bring them to the harbour. Those that go thither must take the sea wind, which is from the SSW, for there is no going in with the land wind. The harbour is made by a low flat Island about a mile long and a quarter of a mile broad, which lies about a mile and a half from the main-land. There is a channel at each end of the Island: the West channel is the widest and safest, yet at the NW point of the Island there is a shoal of which ships must take heed, and when past the shoal must keep close to the Island on account of a sandy point which strikes over from the main-land. This harbour is capable of receiving 200 sail of ships. The best riding is near the main-land, where the depth is seven or eight fathoms, clean hard sand. Two creeks lead up to the town of _Ria-lexa_, which is two leagues distant from the harbour[42].' The Spaniards had erected breastworks and made other preparation in expectation of such a visit as the present. The Buccaneers therefore changed their intention, which had been to attack the town; and sailed on for the _Gulf of Amapalla_. [Sidenote: Bay of Amapalla.] 'The Bay or Gulf of _Amapalla_ runs eight or ten leagues into the country. On the South side of its entrance is _Point Casivina_, in latitude 12° 40' N; and on the NW side is _Mount San Miguel_. There are many Islands in this Gulf, all low except two, named _Amapalla_ and _Mangera_, which are both high land. These are two miles asunder, and between them is the best channel into the Gulf[43].' The ships sailed into the _Gulf_ through the channel between _Point Casivina_ and the Island _Mangera_. Davis went with two canoes before the ships, and landed at a village on the Island _Mangera_. The inhabitants kept at a distance, but a Spanish Friar and some Indians were taken, from whom the Buccaneers learnt that there were two Indian towns or villages on the _Island Amapalla_; upon which information they hastened to their canoes, and made for that Island. On coming near, some among the inhabitants called out to demand who they were, and what they came for. Davis answered by an interpreter, that he and his men were Biscayners sent by the King of _Spain_ to clear the sea of Pirates; and that their business in _Amapalla Bay_, was to careen. No other Spaniard than the Padre dwelt among these Indians, and only one among the Indians could speak the Spanish language, who served as a kind of Secretary to the Padre. The account the Buccaneers gave of themselves satisfied the natives, and the Secretary said they were welcome. The principal town or village of the Island _Amapalla_ stood on the top of a hill, and Davis and his men, with the Friar at their head, marched thither. At each of the towns on _Amapalla_, and also on _Mangera_, was a handsome built church. The Spanish Padre officiated at all three, and gave religious instruction to the natives in their own language. The Islands were within the jurisdiction of the Governor of the Town of _San Miguel_, which was at the foot of the _Mount_. 'I observed,' says Dampier, 'in all the Indian towns under the Spanish Government, that the Images of the Virgin Mary, and of other Saints with which all their churches are filled, are painted of an Indian complexion, and partly in an Indian dress: but in the towns which are inhabited chiefly by Spaniards, the Saints conform to the Spanish garb and complexion.' The ships anchored near the East side of the _Island Amapalla_, which is the largest of the Islands, in 10 fathoms depth, clean hard sand. On other Islands in the Bay were plantations of maize, with cattle, fowls, plantains, and abundance of a plum-tree common in _Jamaica_, the fruit of which Dampier calls the large hog plum. This fruit is oval, with a large stone and little substance about it; pleasant enough in taste, but he says he never saw one of these plums ripe that had not a maggot or two in it. The Buccaneers helped themselves to cattle from an Island in the Bay which was largely stocked, and which they were informed belonged to a Nunnery. The natives willingly assisted them to take the cattle, and were content on receiving small presents for their labour. The Buccaneers had no other service to desire of these natives, and therefore it must have been from levity and an ambition to give a specimen of their vocation, more than for any advantage expected, that they planned to take the opportunity when the inhabitants should be assembled in their church, to shut the church doors upon them, the Buccaneers themselves say, 'to let the Indians know who we were, and to make a bargain with them.' In executing this project, one of the buccaneers being impatient at the leisurely movements of the inhabitants, pushed one of them rather rudely, to hasten him into the church; but the contrary effect was produced, for the native being frightened, ran away, and all the rest taking alarm 'sprang out of the church like deer.' As they fled, some of Davis's men fired at them as at an enemy, and among other injury committed, the Indian Secretary was killed. Cowley relates their exploits here very briefly, but in the style of an accomplished Gazette writer. He says, 'We set sail from _Realejo_ to the _Gulf of St. Miguel_, where we took two Islands; one was inhabited by Indians, and the other was well stored with cattle.' [Sidenote: September. Davis and Eaton part Company.] Davis and Eaton here broke off consortship. The cause of their separating was an unreasonable claim of Davis's crew, who having the stouter and better ship, would not agree that Eaton's men should share equally with themselves in the prizes taken. Cowley at this time quitted Davis's ship, and entered with Eaton, who sailed from the _Bay of Amapalla_ for the Peruvian coast. Davis also sailed the same way on the day following (September the 3d), first releasing the Priest of _Amapalla_; and with a feeling of remorse something foreign to his profession, by way of atonement to the inhabitants for the annoyance and mischief they had sustained from the Buccaneers, he left them one of the prize vessels, with half a cargo of flour. [Sidenote: Tornadoes near the Coast of New Spain.] Davis sailed out of the Gulf by the passage between the Islands _Amapalla_ and _Mangera_. In the navigation towards the coast of _Peru_, they had the wind from the NNW and West, except during tornadoes, of which they had one or more every day, and whilst they lasted the wind generally blew from the South East; but as soon as they were over, the wind settled again, in the NW. Tornadoes are common near the _Bay of Panama_ from June to November, and at this time were accompanied with much thunder, lightning, and rain. [Sidenote: Cape San Francisco.] When they came to _Cape San Francisco_, they found settled fair weather, and the wind at South. On the 20th, they anchored by the East side of the _Island Plata_. The 21st, Eaton's ship anchored near them. Eaton had been at the _Island Cocos_, and had lodged on shore there 200 packages of flour. [Sidenote: Eaton's Description of Cocos Island.] According to Eaton's description, _Cocos Island_ is encompassed with rocks, 'which make it almost inaccessible except at the NE end, where there is a small but secure harbour; and a fine brook of fresh water runs there into the sea. The middle of the Island is pretty high, and destitute of trees, but looks green and pleasant with an herb by the Spaniards called _Gramadiel_. All round the Island by the sea, the land is low, and there cocoa-nut trees grow in great groves.' [Sidenote: Coast of Peru.] At _La Plata_ they found only one small run of fresh water, which was on the East side of the Island, and trickled slowly down from the rocks. The Spaniards had recently destroyed the goats here, that they might not serve as provision for the pirates. Small sea turtle however were plentiful, as were men-of-war birds and boobies. The tide was remarked to run strong at this part of the coast, the flood to the South. Eaton and his crew would willingly have joined company again with Davis, but Davis's men persisted in their unsociable claim to larger shares: the two ships therefore, though designing alike to cruise on the coast of _Peru_, sailed singly and separately, Eaton on the 22d, and Davis on the day following. [Sidenote: Point S^{ta} Elena.] Davis went to _Point S^{ta} Elena_. On its West side is deep water and no anchorage. In the bay on the North side of the Point is good anchorage, and about a mile within the Point was a small Indian village, the inhabitants of which carried on a trade with pitch, and salt made there. The _Point S^{ta} Elena_ is tolerably high, and overgrown with thistles; but the land near it is sandy, low, and in parts overflowed, without tree or grass, and without fresh water; but water-melons grew there, large and very sweet. When the inhabitants of the village wanted fresh water, they were obliged to fetch it from a river called the _Colanche_, which is at the innermost part of the bay, four leagues distant from their habitations. The buccaneers landed, and took some natives prisoners. A small bark was lying in the bay at anchor, the crew of which set fire to and abandoned her; but the buccaneers boarded her in time to extinguish the fire. A general order had been given by the Viceroy of _Peru_ to all ship-masters, that if they should be in danger of being taken by pirates, they should set fire to their vessels and betake themselves to their boats. [Sidenote: Algatrane, a bituminous Earth.] The pitch, which was the principal commodity produced at _S^{ta} Elena_, was supplied from a hot spring, of which Dampier gives the following account. 'Not far from the Indian village, and about five paces within high-water mark, a bituminous matter boils out of a little hole in the earth. It is like thin tar; the Spaniards call it _Algatrane_. By much boiling, it becomes hard like pitch, and is used by the Spaniards instead of pitch. It boils up most at high water, and the inhabitants save it in jars[44].' [Sidenote: A rich Ship formerly wrecked on Point S^{ta} Elena.] A report was current here among the Spaniards, 'that many years before, a rich Spanish ship was driven ashore at _Point S^{ta} Elena_, for want of wind to work her; that immediately after she struck, she heeled off to seaward, and sunk in seven or eight fathoms water; and that no one ever attempted to fish for her, because there falls in here a great high sea[45].' [Sidenote: Manta.] Davis landed at a village named _Manta_, on the main-land about three leagues Eastward of _Cape San Lorenzo_, and due North of a high conical mountain called _Monte Christo_. The village was on a small ascent, and between it and the sea was a spring of good water. [Sidenote: Sunken Rocks near it.] 'About a mile and a half from the shore, right opposite the village, is a rock which is very dangerous, because it never appears above water, neither does the sea break upon it. A mile within the rock is good anchorage in six, eight or ten fathoms, hard sand and clear ground. [Sidenote: And Shoal.] A mile from the road on the West side is a shoal which runs out a mile into the sea[46].' The only booty made by landing at _Manta_, was the taking two old women prisoners. From them however, the Buccaneers obtained intelligence that many of their fraternity had lately crossed the _Isthmus_ from the _West Indies_, and were at this time on the _South Sea_, without ships, cruising about in canoes; and that it was on this account the Viceroy had given orders for the destruction of the goats at the Island _Plata_. [Sidenote: October. Davis is joined by other Buccaneers.] Whilst Davis and his men, in the Batchelor's Delight, were lying at the Island _Plata_, unsettled in their plans by the news they had received, they were, on October the 2d, joined by the Cygnet, Captain Swan, and by a small bark manned with a crew of buccaneers, both of which anchored in the road. [Sidenote: The Cygnet, Captain Swan.] The Cygnet, as before noticed, was fitted out from _London_ for the purpose of trade. She had put in at _Baldivia_, where Swan, seeing the Spaniards suspicious of the visits of strangers, gave out that he was bound to the _East Indies_, and that he had endeavoured to go by the _Cape of Good Hope_; but that meeting there with storms and unfavourable winds, and not being able to beat round that _Cape_, he had changed his course and ran for the _Strait of Magalhanes_, to sail by the _Pacific Ocean_ to _India_. This story was too improbable to gain credit. Instead of finding a market at _Baldivia_, the Spaniards there treated him and his people as enemies, by which he lost two men and had several wounded. He afterwards tried the disposition of the Spaniards to trade with him at other places, both in _Chili_ and _Peru_, but no where met encouragement. He proceeded Northward for _New Spain_ still with the same view; but near the _Gulf of Nicoya_ he fell in with some buccaneers who had come over the _Isthmus_ and were in canoes; and his men (Dampier says) forced him to receive them into his ship, and he was afterwards prevailed on to join in their pursuits. Swan had to plead in his excuse, the hostility of the Spaniards towards him at _Baldivia_. These buccaneers with whom Swan associated, had for their commander Peter Harris, a nephew of the Peter Harris who was killed in battle with the Spaniards in the _Bay of Panama_, in 1680, when the Buccaneers were commanded by Sawkins and Coxon. Swan stipulated with them that ten shares of every prize should be set apart for the benefit of his owners, and articles to that purport were drawn up and signed. Swan retained the command of the Cygnet, with a crew increased by a number of the new comers, for whose accommodation a large quantity of bulky goods belonging to the merchants was thrown into the sea. Harris with others of the buccaneers established themselves in a small bark they had taken. On their meeting with Davis, there was much joy and congratulation on all sides. They immediately agreed to keep together, and the separation of Eaton's ship was now much regretted. They were still incommoded in Swan's ship for want of room, therefore (the supercargoes giving consent) whatever part of the cargo any of the crews desired to purchase, it was sold to them upon trust; and more bulky goods were thrown overboard. Iron, of which there was a large quantity, was kept for ballast; and the finer goods, as silks, muslins, stockings, &c. were saved. [Sidenote: At Isle de la Plata.] Whilst they continued at _La Plata_, Davis kept a small bark out cruising, which brought in a ship from _Guayaquil_, laden with timber, the master of which reported that great preparations were making at _Callao_ to attack the pirates. This information made a re-union with Eaton more earnestly desired, and a small bark manned with 20 men was dispatched to search along the coast Southward as far as to the _Lobos Isles_, with an invitation to him to join them again. The ships in the mean time followed leisurely in the same direction. [Sidenote: Cape Blanco, near Guayaquil; difficult to weather.] On the 30th, they were off the _Cape Blanco_ which is between _Payta_ and the _Bay of Guayaquil_. Southerly winds prevail along the coast of _Peru_ and _Chili_ much the greater part of the year; and Dampier remarks of this _Cape Blanco_, that it was reckoned the most difficult to weather of any headland along the coast, the wind generally blowing strong from SSW or SbW, without being altered, as at other parts of the coast, by the land winds. Yet it was held necessary here to beat up close in with the shore, because (according to the accounts of Spanish seamen) 'on standing out to sea, a current is found setting NW, which will carry a ship farther off shore in two hours, than she can run in again in five.' [Sidenote: November. Payta burnt.] November the 3d, the Buccaneers landed at _Payta_ without opposition, the town being abandoned to them. They found nothing of value, 'not so much as a meal of victuals being left them.' The Governor would not pay ransom for the town, though he fed the Buccaneers with hopes till the sixth day, when they set it on fire. At most of the towns on the coast of _Peru_, the houses are built with bricks made of earth and straw kneaded together and dried in the sun; many houses have no roof other than mats laid upon rafters, for it never rains, and they endeavour to fence only from the sun. From the want of moisture, great part of the country near the coast will not produce timber, and most of the stone they have, 'is so brittle that any one may rub it into sand with their finger.' _Payta_ had neither wood nor water, except what was carried thither. The water was procured from a river about two leagues NNE of the town, where was a small Indian village called _Colan_. [Sidenote: Part of the Peruvian Coast where it never rains.] Dampier says, 'this dry country commences Northward about _Cape Blanco_ (in about 4° S latitude) whence it reaches to latitude 30° S, in which extent they have no rain that I could ever observe or hear of.' In the Southern part of this tract however (according to Wafer) they have great dews in the night, by which the vallies are rendered fertile, and are well furnished with vegetables. Eaton had been at _Payta_, where he burnt a large ship in the road, but did not land. He put on shore there all his prisoners; from which circumstance it was conjectured that he purposed to sail immediately for the _East Indies_; and such proved to be the fact. The vessel commanded by Harris, sailed badly, and was therefore quitted and burnt. [Sidenote: Lobos de Tierra. Lobos de la Mar.] On the 14th, the other Buccaneer vessels, under Davis, anchored near the NE end of _Lobos de Tierra_, in four fathoms depth. They took here penguins, boobies, and seals. On the 19th, they were at _Lobos de la Mar_, where they found a letter left by the bark sent in search of Eaton, which gave information that he had entirely departed from the American coast. The bark had sailed for the Island _Plata_ expecting to rejoin the ships there. [Sidenote: Eaton sails for the East Indies; Stops at the Ladrones.] Eaton in his route to the _East Indies_ stopped at _Guahan_, one of the _Ladrone Islands_, where himself and his crew acted towards the native Islanders with the utmost barbarity, which Cowley relates as a subject of merriment. On their first arrival at _Guahan_, Eaton sent a boat on shore to procure refreshments; but the natives kept at a distance, believing his ship to be one of the Manila galeons, and his people Spaniards. Eaton's men served themselves with cocoa-nuts, but finding difficulty in climbing, they cut the trees down to get at the fruit. The next time their boat went to the shore, the Islanders attacked her, but were easily repulsed; and a number of them killed. By this time the Spanish Governor was arrived at the part of the Island near which the ship had anchored, and sent a letter addressed to her Commander, written in four different languages, to wit, in Spanish, French, Dutch, and Latin, to demand of what country she was, and whence she came. Cowley says, 'Our Captain, thinking the French would be welcomer than the English, returned answer we were French, fitted out by private merchants to make fuller discovery of the world. The Governor on this, invited the Captain to the shore, and at their first conference, the Captain told him that the Indians had fallen upon his men, and that we had killed some of them. He wished we had killed them all, and told us of their rebellion, that they had killed eight Fathers, of sixteen which were in a convent. He gave us leave to kill and take whatever we could find on one half of the Island where the rebels lived. We then made wars with these infidels, and went on shore every day, fetching provisions, and firing upon them wherever we saw them, so that the greatest part of them left the Island. The Indians sent two of their captains to us to treat of peace, but we would not treat with them[47].'--'The whole land is a garden. The Governor was the same man who detained Sir John Narbrough's Lieutenant at _Baldivia_. Our Captain supplied him with four barrels of gunpowder, and arms.' Josef de Quiroga was at this time Governor at _Guahan_, who afterwards conquered and unpeopled all the Northern Islands of the _Ladrones_. Eaton's crew took some of the Islanders prisoners: three of them jumped overboard to endeavour to escape. It was easy to retake them, as they had been bound with their hands behind them; but Eaton's men pursued them with the determined purpose to kill them, which they did in mere wantonness of sport[48]. At another time, when they had so far come to an accommodation with the Islanders as to admit of their approach, the ship's boat being on shore fishing with the seine, some natives in canoes near her were suspected of intending mischief. Cowley relates, 'our people that were in the boat let go in amongst the thickest of them, and killed a great many of their number.' It is possible that thus much might have been necessary for safety; but Cowley proceeds, 'the others, seeing their mates fall, ran away. Our other men which were on shore, meeting them, saluted them also by making holes in their hides.' From the _Ladrones_ Eaton sailed to the North of _Luconia_, and passed through among the Islands which were afterwards named by Dampier the _Bashee Islands_. The account given by Cowley is as follows: 'There being half a point East variation, till we came to latitude 20° 30' N, where we fell in with a parcel of Islands lying to the Northward of _Luconia_. On the 23d day of April, we sailed through between the second and third of the Northernmost of them. We met with a very strong current, like the _Race of Portland_. [Sidenote: Nutmeg Island, North of Luconia.] At the third of the Northernmost Islands, we sent our boat on shore, where they found abundance of nutmegs growing, but no people. They observed abundance of rocks and foul ground near the shore, and saw many goats upon the Island.' Cowley concludes the narrative of his voyage with saying that he arrived home safe to _England_ through the infinite mercy of God. [Sidenote: Coast of Peru. Davis attempts Guayaquil. Slave Ships captured.] To return to Edward Davis: At _Lobos de la Mar_, the Mosquito Indians struck as much turtle as served all the crews. Shortly after, Davis made an attempt to surprise _Guayaquil_, which miscarried through the cowardice of one of his men, and the coldness of Swan to the enterprise. In the _Bay of Guayaquil_ they captured four vessels; one of them laden with woollen cloth of _Quito_ manufacture; the other three were ships coming out of the _River of Guayaquil_ with cargoes of Negroes. The number of Negroes in these vessels was a thousand, from among which Davis and Swan chose each about fifteen, and let the vessels go. Dampier entertained on this occasion different views from his companions. 'Never,' says he, 'was put into the hands of men a greater opportunity to enrich themselves. We had 1000 Negroes, all lusty young men and women, and we had 200 tons of flour stored up at the _Galapagos Islands_. With these Negroes we might have gone and settled at _Santa Maria_ on the _Isthmus of Darien_, and have employed them in getting gold out of the mines there. All the Indians living in that neighbourhood were mortal enemies to the Spaniards, were flushed by successes against them, and for several years had been the fast friends of the privateers. Add to which, we should have had the _North Sea_ open to us, and in a short time should have received assistance from all parts of the _West Indies_. Many thousands of Buccaneers from _Jamaica_ and the French Islands would have flocked to us; and we should have been an overmatch for all the force the Spaniards could have brought out of _Peru_ against us.' The proposal to employ slaves in the mines leaves no cause to regret that Dampier's plan was not adopted; but that was probably not an objection with his companions. They naturally shrunk from an attempt which in the execution would have required a regularity and order to which they were unaccustomed, and not at all affected. [Sidenote: Description of the Harbour of Guayaquil.] The Harbour of _Guayaquil_ is the best formed port in _Peru_. In the river, three or four miles short of the town, stands a low Island about a mile long, on either side of which is a fair channel to pass up or down. The Western Channel is the wildest: the other is as deep. 'From the upper part of the Island to the town is about a league, and it is near as much from one side of the river to the other. In that spacious place ships of the greatest burthen may ride afloat; but the best place for ships is near that part of the land on which the town stands. The country here is subject to great rains and thick fogs, which render it very unwholesome and sickly, in the vallies especially; _Guayaquil_ however is not so unhealthy as _Quito_ and other towns inland; but the Northern part of Peru pays for the dry weather which they have about _Lima_ and to the Southward.' [Sidenote: Island S^{ta} Clara. Shoals near its North Side.] 'Ships bound into the river of _Guayaquil_ pass on the South side of the Island _Santa Clara_ to avoid shoals which are on the North side, whereon formerly ships have been wrecked. A rich wreck lay on the North side of _Santa Clara_ not far from the Island, and some plate which was in her was taken up: more might have been saved but for the cat-fish which swarm hereabouts. [Sidenote: Cat Fish.] 'The Cat-fish is much like a whiting; but the head is flatter and bigger. It has a wide mouth, and certain small strings pointing out on each side of it like cats' whiskers. It hath three fins; one on the back, and one on either side. Each of these fins hath a sharp bone which is very venemous if it strikes into a man's flesh. Some of the Indians that adventured to search this wreck lost their lives, and others the use of their limbs, by these fins. Some of the cat-fish weigh seven or eight pounds; and in some places there are cat-fish which are none of them bigger than a man's thumb; but their fins are all alike venemous. They are most generally at the mouths of rivers (in the hot latitudes) or where there is much mud and ooze. The bones in their bodies are not venemous, and we never perceived any bad effect in eating the fish, which is very sweet and wholesome meat[49].' The 13th, Davis and Swan with their prizes sailed from the _Bay of Guayaquil_ to the Island _Plata_, and found there the bark which had been in quest of Eaton's ship. From _Plata_, they sailed Northward towards the _Bay of Panama_, landing at the villages along the coast to seek provisions. They were ill provided with boats, which exposed them to danger in making descents, by their not being able to land or bring off many men at one time; and they judged that the best places for getting their wants in this respect supplied would be in rivers of the Continent, in which the Spaniards had no settlement, where from the native inhabitants they might obtain canoes by traffic or purchase, if not otherwise. Dampier remarks that there were many such unfrequented rivers in the Continent to the Northward of the _Isle de la Plata_; and that from the Equinoctial to the _Gulf de San Miguel_ in the _Bay of Panama_, which is above eight degrees of latitude, the coast was not inhabited by the Spaniards, nor were the Indians who lived there in any manner under their subjection, except at one part near the Island _Gallo_, 'where on the banks of a Gold River or two, some Spaniards had settled to find gold.' [Sidenote: The Land Northward of Cape San Francisco. The Cotton Tree and Cabbage Tree.] The land by the sea-coast to the North of _Cape San Francisco_ is low and extremely woody; the trees are of extraordinary height and bigness; and in this part of the coast are large and navigable rivers. The white cotton-tree, which bears a very fine sort of cotton, called silk cotton, is the largest tree in these woods; and the cabbage-tree is the tallest. Dampier has given full descriptions of both. He measured a cabbage-tree 120 feet in length, and some were longer. 'It has no limbs nor boughs except at the head, where there are branches something bigger than a man's arm. The cabbage-fruit shoots out in the midst of these branches, invested or folded in leaves; and is as big as the small of a man's leg, and a foot long. It is white as milk, and sweet as a nut if eaten raw, and is very sweet and wholesome if boiled.' [Sidenote: River of St. Jago.] The Buccaneers entered a river with their boats, in or near latitude 2° N, which Dampier, from some Spanish pilot-book, calls the _River of St. Jago_. It was navigable some leagues within the entrance, and seems to be the river marked with the name _Patia_ in the late Spanish charts, a name which has allusion to spreading branches. Davis's men went six leagues up the river without seeing habitation or people. They then came in sight of two small huts, the inhabitants of which hurried into canoes with their household-stuff, and paddled upwards against the stream faster than they could be pursued. More houses were seen higher up; but the stream ran here so swift, that the Buccaneers would not be at the labour of proceeding. [Sidenote: Island Gallo.] They found in the two deserted huts, a hog, some fowls and plantains, which they dressed on the spot, and after their meal returned to the ships, which were at the _Island Gallo_. 'The Island _Gallo_ is clothed with timber, and here was a spring of good water at the NE end, with good landing in a small sandy bay, and secure riding in six or seven fathoms depth[50].' [Sidenote: River Tomaco.] They entered with their boats another large river, called the _Tomaco_, the entrance of which is but three leagues from the _Island Gallo_. This river was shoal at the mouth, and navigable for small vessels only. A little within, was a village called _Tomaco_, some of the inhabitants of which they took prisoners, and carried off a dozen jars of good wine. [Sidenote: 1685. January.] On the 1st of January, they took a packet-boat bound for _Lima_, which the President of _Panama_ had dispatched to hasten the sailing of the Plate Fleet from _Callao_; the treasure sent from _Peru_ and _Chili_ to _Old Spain_ being usually first collected at _Panama_, and thence transported on mules to _Portobello_. The Buccaneers judged that the _Pearl Islands_ in the _Bay of Panama_ would be the best station they could occupy for intercepting ships from _Lima_. On the 7th, they left _Gallo_, and pursued their course Northward. An example occurs here of Buccaneer order and discipline. 'We weighed,' says Dampier, 'before day, and all got out of the road except Captain Swan's tender, which never budged; for the men were all asleep when we went out, and the tide of flood coming on before they awoke, we were forced to stay for them till the following tide.' [Sidenote: Island Gorgona.] On the 8th, they took a vessel laden with flour. The next day they anchored on the West side of the _Island Gorgona_, in 38 fathoms depth clear ground, a quarter of a mile from the shore. _Gorgona_ was uninhabited; and like _Gallo_ covered with trees. It is pretty high, and remarkable by two saddles, or risings and fallings on the top. It is about two leagues long, one broad, and is four leagues distant from the mainland. It was well watered at this time with small brooks issuing from the high land. At its West end is another small Island. The tide rises and falls seven or eight feet; and at low water shell-fish, as periwinkles, muscles, and oysters, may be taken. At _Gorgona_ were small black monkeys. 'When the tide was out, the monkeys would come down to the sea-shore for shell-fish. Their way was to take up an oyster and lay it upon a stone, and with another stone to keep beating of it till they broke the shell[51].' [Sidenote: Pearl Oysters.] The pearl oyster was here in great plenty: they are flatter than other oysters, are slimy, and taste copperish if eaten raw, but were thought good when boiled. The Indians and Spaniards hang the meat of them on strings to dry. 'The pearl is found at the head of the oyster, between the meat and the shell. Some have 20 or 30 small seed-pearl, some none at all, and some one or two pretty large pearls. The inside of the shell is more glorious than the pearl itself[52].' [Sidenote: Bay of Panama. Galera Isle.] They put some of their prisoners on shore at _Gorgona_, and sailed thence on the 13th, being six sail in company; that is to say, Davis's ship, Swan's ship, three tenders, and their last prize. The 21st, they arrived in the _Bay of Panama_, and anchored at a small low and barren Island named _Galera_. On the 25th, they went from _Galera_ to one of the Southern _Pearl Islands_, where they lay the ships aground to clean, the rise and fall of the sea at the spring tides being ten feet perpendicular. The small barks were kept out cruising, and on the 31st, they brought in a vessel bound for _Panama_ from _Lavelia_, a town on the West side of the _Bay_, laden with Indian corn, salt beef, and fowls. Notwithstanding it had been long reported that a fleet was fitting out in _Peru_ to clear the _South Sea_ of pirates, the small force under Davis, Swan, and Harris, amounting to little more than 250 men, remained several weeks in uninterrupted possession of the _Bay of Panama_, blocking up access to the city by sea, supplying themselves with provisions from the Islands, and plundering whatsoever came in their way. [Sidenote: The Pearl Islands.] The _Pearl Islands_ are woody, and the soil rich. They are cultivated with plantations of rice, plantains, and bananas, for the support of the City of _Panama_. Dampier says, 'Why they are called the _Pearl Islands_ I cannot imagine, for I did never see one pearl oyster about them, but of other oysters many. It is very pleasant sailing here, having the mainland on one side, which appears in divers forms, beautified with small hills clothed with woods always green and flourishing; and on the other side, the _Pearl Islands_, which also make a lovely prospect as you sail by them.' The Buccaneers went daily in their canoes among the different Islands, to fish, fowl, or hunt for guanoes. One man so employed and straggling from his party, was surprised by the Spaniards, and carried to _Panama_. [Sidenote: February.] In the middle of February, Davis, who appears to have always directed their movements as the chief in command, went with his ships and anchored near the City of _Panama_. He negociated with the Governor an exchange of prisoners, and was glad by the release of forty Spaniards to obtain the deliverance of two Buccaneers; one of them the straggler just mentioned; the other, one of Harris's men. A short time after this exchange, as the Buccaneer ships were at anchor near the Island _Taboga_, which is about four leagues to the South of _Panama_, they were visited by a Spaniard in a canoe, who pretended he was a merchant and wanted to traffic with them privately. He proposed to come off to the ships in the night with a small vessel laden with such goods as the Buccaneers desired to purchase. This was agreed to, and he came with his vessel when it was dark; but instead of a cargo of goods, she was fitted up as a fire-ship with combustibles. The Buccaneers had suspected his intention and were on their guard; but to ward off the mischief, were obliged to cut from their anchors and set sail. In the morning they returned to their anchorage, which they had scarcely regained when a fresh cause of alarm occurred. Dampier relates, [Sidenote: Arrival of fresh bodies of Buccaneers from the West Indies.] 'We were striving to recover the anchors we had parted from, but the buoy-ropes, being rotten, broke, and whilst we were puzzling about our anchors, we saw a great many canoes full of men pass between the Island _Taboga_ and another Island, which at first put us into a new consternation. We lay still some time, till we saw they made directly towards us; upon which we weighed and stood towards them. When we came within hail, we found that they were English and French privateers just come from the _North Sea_ over the _Isthmus of Darien_. We presently came to an anchor again, and all the canoes came on board.' [Sidenote: Grogniet and L'Escuyer.] This new arrival of Buccaneers to the _South Sea_ consisted of 200 Frenchmen and 80 Englishmen, commanded by two Frenchmen named Grogniet and L'Escuyer. Grogniet had a commission to war on the Spaniards from a French West-India Governor. The Englishmen of this party upon joining Davis, were received into the ships of their countrymen, and the largest of the prize vessels, which was a ship named the San Rosario, was given to the Frenchmen. From these new confederates it was learnt, that another party, consisting of 180 Buccaneers, commanded by an Englishman named Townley, had crossed the _Isthmus_, and were building canoes in the _Gulf de San Miguel_; on which intelligence, it was determined to sail to that Gulf, that the whole buccaneer force in this sea might be joined. Grogniet in return for the ship given to the French Buccaneers, offered to Davis and Swan new commissions from the Governor of _Petit Goave_, by whom he had been furnished with spare commissions with blanks, to be filled up and disposed of at his own discretion. Davis accepted Grogniet's present, 'having before only an old commission which had belonged to Captain Tristian, and which, being found in Tristian's ship when she was carried off by Cook, had devolved as an inheritance to Davis.' The commissions which, by whatever means, the Buccaneers procured, were not much protection in the event of their falling into the hands of the Spaniards, unless the nation of which the Buccaneer was a native happened to be then at war with _Spain_. Instances were not uncommon in the _West Indies_ of the Spaniards hanging up their buccaneer prisoners with their commissions about their necks. But the commissions were allowed to be valid in the ports of other powers. Swan however refused the one offered him, and rested his justification on the orders he had received from the Duke of York; in which he was directed, neither to give offence to the Spaniards, nor to submit to receive affront from them: they had done him injury in killing his men at _Baldivia_, and he held his orders to be a lawful commission to do himself right. [Sidenote: March. Townley and his Crew.] On the 3d of March, as they approached the _Gulf de San Miguel_ to meet the Buccaneers under Townley, they were again surprised by seeing two ships standing towards them. These proved to be Townley and his men, in two prizes they had already taken, one laden with flour, the other with wine, brandy, and sugar; both designed for _Panama_. [Sidenote: Pisco Wine.] The wine came from _Pisco_, 'which place is famous for wine, and was contained in jars of seven or eight gallons each. Ships which lade at _Pisco_ stow the jars one tier on the top of another, so artificially that we could hardly do the like without breaking them: yet they often carry in this manner 1500 or 2000, or more, in a ship, and seldom break one.' On this junction of the Buccaneers, they went altogether to the _Pearl Islands_ to make arrangements, and to fit their prize vessels as well as circumstances would admit, for their new occupation. Among the preparations necessary to their equipment, it was not the last which occurred, that the jars from _Pisco_ were wanted to contain their sea stock of fresh water; for which service they were in a short time rendered competent. The 10th, they took a small bark in ballast, from _Guayaquil_. On the 12th, some Indians in a canoe came out of the River _Santa Maria_, purposely to inform them that a large body of English and French Buccaneers were then on their march over the _Isthmus_ from the _North Sea_. This was not all; for on the 15th, one of the small barks which were kept out cruising, fell in with a vessel in which were six Englishmen, who were part of a crew of Buccaneers that had been six months in the _South Sea_, under the command of a William Knight. These six men had been sent in a canoe in chase of a vessel, which they came up with and took; but they had chased out of sight of their own ship, and could not afterwards find her. Davis gave the command of this vessel to Harris, who took possession of her with a crew of his own followers, and he was sent to the River _Santa Maria_ to look for the buccaneers, of whose coming the Indians had given information. This was the latter part of the dry season in the _Bay of Panama_. Hitherto fresh water had been found in plenty at the _Pearl Islands_; but the springs and rivulets were now dried up. The Buccaneers examined within _Point Garachina_, but found no fresh water. [Sidenote: Port de Pinas. 25th. Taboga Isle.] They searched along the coast Southward, and on the 25th, at a narrow opening in the mainland with two small rocky Islands before it, about seven leagues distant from _Point Garachina_, which Dampier supposed to be _Port de Pinas_, they found a stream of good water which ran into the sea; but the harbour was open to the SW, and a swell set in, which rendered watering there difficult and hazardous: the fleet (for they were nine sail in company) therefore stood for the Island _Taboga_, 'where,' says Dampier, 'we were sure to find a supply.' [Sidenote: April.] Their boats being sent before the ships, came unexpectedly upon some of the inhabitants of _Panama_ who were loading a canoe with plantains, and took them prisoners. One among these, a Mulatto, had the imprudence to say he was in the fire-ship which had been sent in the night to burn the Buccaneer ships; upon which, the Buccaneers immediately hanged him. They had chocolate, but no sugar; and all the kettles they possessed, constantly kept boiling, were not sufficient to dress victuals for so many men. Whilst the ships lay at _Taboga_, a detachment was sent to a sugar-work on the mainland, from which they returned with sugar and three coppers. [Sidenote: More Buccaneers arrive.] On the 11th of April, they went from _Tabogo_ to the _Pearl Islands_, and were there joined by the Flibustiers and Buccaneers of whose coming they had been last apprised, consisting of 264 men, commanded by Frenchmen named Rose, Le Picard, and Des-marais. Le Picard was a veteran who had served under Lolonois and Morgan. In this party came Raveneau de Lussan, whose Journal is said to be the only one kept by any of the French who were in this expedition. Lussan's Narrative is written with much misplaced gaiety, which comes early into notice, and shews him to have been, even whilst young and unpractised in the occupation of a Buccaneer, of a disposition delighting in cruelty. In the account of his journey overland from the _West Indies_, he relates instances which he witnessed of the great dexterity of the monkeys which inhabited the forests, and among others the following: '_Je ne puis me souvenir sans rire de l'action que je vis faire a un de ces animaux, auquel apres avoir tiré plusieurs coups de fusil qui lui emportoient une partie du ventre, en sorte que toutes ses tripes sortoient; je le vis se tenir d'une de ses pates, ou mains si l'on veut, a une branche d'arbre, tandis que de l'autre il ramassoit ses intestins qu'il se refouroit dans ce qui lui restoit de ventre[53]._' Ambrose Cowley and Raveneau de Lussan are well matched for comparison, alike not only in their dispositions, but in their conceptions, which made them imagine the recital of such actions would be read with delight. The Buccaneers in the _Bay of Panama_ were now nearly a thousand strong, and they held a consultation whether or not they should attack the city. They had just before learnt from an intercepted packet that the Lima Fleet was at sea, richly charged with treasure; and that it was composed of all the naval force the Spaniards in _Peru_ had been able to collect: it was therefore agreed not to attempt the city at the present, but to wait patiently the arrival of the Spanish fleet, and give it battle. [Sidenote: Chepo.] The only enterprise they undertook on the main-land in the mean time, was against the town of _Chepo_, where they found neither opposition nor plunder. The small Island _Chepillo_ near the mouth of the river which leads to _Chepo_, Dampier reckoned the most pleasant of all the Islands in the _Bay of Panama_. 'It is low on the North side, and rises by a small ascent towards the South side. The soil is yellow, a kind of clay. The low land is planted with all sorts of delicate fruits.' The Islands in the Bay being occupied by the Buccaneers, caused great scarcity of provision and distress at _Panama_, much of the consumption in that city having usually been supplied from the Islands, which on that account and for their pleasantness were called the Gardens of _Panama_. In this situation things remained till near the end of May, the Buccaneers in daily expectation of seeing the fleet from _Lima_, of which it is now time to speak. CHAP. XV. _=Edward Davis= Commander. Meeting of the Spanish and Buccaneer Fleets in the =Bay of Panama=. They separate without fighting. The Buccaneers sail to the Island =Quibo=. The English and French separate. Expedition against the City of =Leon=. That City and =Ria Lexa= burnt. Farther dispersion of the Buccaneers._ [Sidenote: 1685. May. Bay of Panama.] The Viceroy of _Peru_ judged the Fleet he had collected, to be strong enough to encounter the Buccaneers, and did not fear to trust the treasure to its protection; but he gave directions to the Commander of the Fleet to endeavour to avoid a meeting with them until after the treasure should be safely landed. In pursuance of this plan, the Spanish Admiral, as he drew near the _Bay of Panama_, kept more Westward than the usual course, and fell in with the coast of _Veragua_ to the West of the _Punta Mala_. Afterwards, he entered the _Bay_ with his fleet keeping close to the West shore; and to place the treasure out of danger as soon as possible, he landed it at _Lavelia_, thinking it most probable his fleet would be descried by the enemy before he could reach _Panama_, which must have happened if the weather had not been thick, or if the Buccaneers had kept a sharper look-out by stationing tenders across the entrance of the _Bay_. [Sidenote: The Lima Fleet arrives at Panama.] In consequence of this being neglected, the Spanish fleet arrived and anchored before the city of _Panama_ without having been perceived by them, and immediately on their arrival, the crews of the ships were reinforced with a number of European seamen who had purposely been sent over land from _Porto Bello_. Thus strengthened, and the treasure being placed out of danger, the Spanish Admiral took up his anchors, and stood from the road before _Panama_ towards the middle of the Bay, in quest of the Buccaneers. [Sidenote: 28th.] May the 28th, the morning was rainy: the Buccaneer fleet was lying at anchor near the Island _Pacheca_, the Northernmost of the _Pearl Islands_. At eleven o'clock in the forenoon, the weather cleared up, when the Spanish fleet appeared in sight about three leagues distant from them to the WNW. The wind was light from the Southward, and they were standing sharp trimmed towards the Buccaneers. [Sidenote: Meeting of the two Fleets.] Lussan dates this their meeting with the Spanish Fleet, to be on June the 7th. Ten days alteration of the style had taken place in _France_ three years before, and no alteration of style had yet been adopted in _England_. [Sidenote: Force of the Buccaneer.] The Buccaneer fleet was composed of ten sail of vessels, of different sizes, manned with 960 men, almost all Europeans; but, excepting the Batchelor's Delight and the Cygnet, none of their vessels had cannon. Edward Davis was regarded as the Admiral. His ship mounted 36 guns, and had a crew of 156 men, most of them English; but as he was furnished with a French commission, and _France_ was still at war with _Spain_, he carried aloft a white flag, in which was painted a hand and sword. Swan's ship had 16 guns, with a crew of 140 men, all English, and carried a Saint George's flag at her main-topmast head. The rest of their fleet was well provided with small-arms, and the crews were dexterous in the use of them. Grogniet's ship was the most powerful, except in cannon, her crew consisting of 308 men. [Sidenote: Force of the Spanish Fleet.] The Spanish fleet numbered fourteen sail, six of which were provided with cannon; six others with musketry only, and two were fitted up as fire-ships. The buccaneer accounts say the Spanish Admiral had 48 guns mounted, and 450 men; the Vice-Admiral 40 guns, and men in proportion; the Rear-Admiral 36 guns, one of the other ships 24, one 18, and one 8 guns; and that the number of men in their fleet was above 2500; but more than one half of them Indians or slaves. When the two fleets first had sight of each other, Grogniet's ship lay at anchor a mile to leeward of his confederates, on which account he weighed anchor, and stood close upon a wind to the Eastward, intending to turn up to the other ships; but in endeavouring to tack, he missed stays twice, which kept him at a distance all the fore part of the day. From the superiority of the Spaniards in cannon, and of the buccaneer crews in musketry, it was evident that distant fighting was most to the advantage of the Spaniards; and that the Buccaneers had to rest their hopes of success on close fighting and boarding. Davis was fully of this opinion, and at three o'clock in the afternoon, the enemy's fleet being directly to leeward and not far distant, he got his vessels under sail and bore right down upon them, making a signal at the same time to Grogniet to board the Spanish Vice-Admiral, who was some distance separate from the other ships of his fleet. Here may be contemplated the Buccaneers at the highest pitch of elevation to which they at any time attained. If they obtained the victory, it would give them the sole dominion of the _South Sea_; and Davis, the buccaneer Commander, aimed at no less; but he was ill seconded, and was not possessed of authority to enforce obedience to his commands. The order given to Grogniet was not put in execution, and when Davis had arrived with his ship within cannon-shot of the Spaniards, Swan shortened sail and lowered his ensign, to signify he was of opinion that it would be best to postpone fighting till the next day. Davis wanting the support of two of the most able ships of his fleet, was obliged to forego his intention, and no act of hostility passed during the afternoon and evening except the exchange of some shot between his own ship and that of the Spanish Vice-Admiral. When it was dark, the Spanish fleet anchored, and at the same time, the Spanish Admiral took in his light, and ordered a light to be shewn from one of his small vessels, which he sent to leeward. The Buccaneers were deceived by this artifice, believing the light they saw to be that of the Spanish Admiral, and they continued under sail, thinking themselves secure of the weather-gage. [Sidenote: 29th.] At daylight the next morning the Spaniards were seen well collected, whilst the buccaneer vessels were much dispersed. Grogniet and Townley were to windward of the Spaniards; but all the rest, contrary to what they had expected, were to leeward. At sunrise, the Spanish fleet got under sail and bore down towards the leeward buccaneer ships. The Buccaneers thought it not prudent to fight under such disadvantages, and did not wait to receive them. They were near the small Island _Pacheca_, on the South side of which are some Islands yet smaller. Among these Islands, Dampier says, is a narrow channel in one part not forty feet wide. Townley, being pressed by the Spaniards and in danger of being intercepted, pushed for this passage without any previous examination of the depth of water, and got safe through. Davis and Swan, whose ships were the fastest sailing in either fleet, had the credit of affording protection to their flying companions, by waiting to repulse the most advanced of the Spaniards. Dampier, who was in Davis's ship, says, she was pressed upon by the whole Spanish force. 'The Spanish Admiral and the rest of his squadron began to play at us and we at them as fast as we could: yet they kept at distant cannonading. They might have laid us aboard if they would, but they came not within small-arms shot, intending to maul us in pieces with their great guns.' After a circuitous chace and running fight, which lasted till the evening, the Buccaneers, Harris's ship excepted, which had been forced to make off in a different direction, anchored by the Island _Pacheca_, nearly in the same spot whence they had set out in the morning. [Sidenote: 30th.] On the 30th, at daylight, the Spanish fleet was seen at anchor three leagues to leeward. The breeze was faint, and both fleets lay quiet till ten o'clock in the forenoon. The wind then freshened a little from the South, and the Spaniards took up their anchors; but instead of making towards the Buccaneers, they sailed away in a disgraceful manner for _Panama_. Whether they sustained any loss in this skirmishing does not appear. The Buccaneer's had only one man killed outright. In Davis's ship, six men were wounded, and half of her rudder was shot away. [Sidenote: The two Fleets separate.] It might seem to those little acquainted with the management of ships that it could make no material difference whether the Spaniards bore down to engage the Buccaneers, or the Buccaneers bore down to engage the Spaniards; for that in either case when the fleets were closed, the Buccaneers might have tried the event of boarding. But the difference here was, that if the Buccaneers had the weather-gage, it enabled them to close with the enemy in the most speedy manner, which was of much consequence where the disparity in the number of cannon was so great. When the Spaniards had the weather-gage, they would press the approach only near enough to give effect to their cannon, and not near enough for musketry to do them mischief. With this view, they could choose their distance when to stop and bring their broadsides to bear, and leave to the Buccaneers the trouble of making nearer approach, against the wind and a heavy cannonade. Dampier, who has related the transactions of the 28th and 29th very briefly, speaks of the weather-gage here as a decisive advantage. He says, "In the morning (of the 29th) therefore, when we found the enemy had got the weather-gage of us, and were coming upon us with full sail, we ran for it." On this occasion there is no room for commendation on the valour of either party. The Buccaneers, however, knew, by the Spanish fleet coming to them from _Panama_, that the treasure must have been landed, and therefore they could have had little motive for enterprise. The meeting was faintly sought by both sides, and no battle was fought, except a little cannonading during the retreat of the Buccaneers, which on their side was almost wholly confined to the ship of their Commander. Both Dampier and Lussan acknowledge that Edward Davis brought the whole of the buccaneer fleet off safe from the Spaniards by his courage and good management. [Sidenote: June.] On June the 1st, the Buccaneers sailed out of the _Bay of Panama_ for the Island _Quibo_. They had to beat up against SW winds, and had much wet weather. In the middle of June, they anchored on the East side of _Quibo_, where they were joined by Harris. [Sidenote: Keys of Quibo. The Island Quibo.] _Quibo_ and the smaller Islands near it, Dampier calls collectively, the Keys of _Quibo_. They are all woody. Good fresh water was found on the great Island, which would naturally be the case with the wet weather; and here were deer, guanoes, and large black monkeys, whose flesh was esteemed by the Buccaneers to be sweet and wholesome food. [Sidenote: Rock near the Anchorage.] A shoal which runs out from the SE point of _Quibo_ half a mile into the sea, has been already noticed: a league to the North of this shoal, and a mile distant from the shore, is a rock which appears above water only at the last quarter ebb. Except the shoal, and this rock, there is no other danger; and ships may anchor within a quarter of a mile of the shore, in from six to twelve fathoms clear sand and ooze[54]. They stopped at _Quibo_ to make themselves canoes, the trees there being well suited for the purpose, and some so large that a single trunk hollowed and wrought into shape, would carry forty or fifty men. Whilst this work was performing, a strong party was sent to the main-land against _Pueblo Nuevo_, which town was now entered without opposition; but no plunder was obtained. [Sidenote: Serpents. The Serpent Berry.] Lussan relates that two of the Buccaneers were killed by serpents at _Quibo_. He says, 'here are serpents whose bite is so venemous that speedy death inevitably ensues, unless the patient can have immediate recourse to a certain fruit, which must be chewed and applied to the part bitten. The tree which bears this fruit grows here, and in other parts of _America_. It resembles the almond-tree in _France_ in height and in its leaves. The fruit is like the sea chestnut (_Chataines de Mer_) but is of a grey colour, rather bitter in taste, and contains in its middle a whitish almond. The whole is to be chewed together before it is applied. It is called (_Graine à Serpent_) the Serpent Berry.' [Sidenote: July. Disagreements among the Buccaneers.] The dissatisfaction caused by their being foiled in the _Bay of Panama_, broke out in reproaches, and produced great disagreements among the Buccaneers. Many blamed Grogniet for not coming into battle the first day. On the other hand, Lussan blames the behaviour of the English, who, he says, being the greater number, lorded it over the French; that Townley, liking Grogniet's ship better than his own, would have insisted on a change, if the French had not shewn a determination to resist such an imposition. Another cause of complaint against the English was, the indecent and irreverent manner in which they shewed their hatred to the Roman Catholic religion. Lussan says, 'When they entered the Spanish churches, it was their diversion to hack and mutilate every thing with their cutlasses, and to fire their muskets and pistols at the images of the Saints.' [Sidenote: The French separate from the English.] In consequence of these disagreements, 330 of the French joined together under Grogniet, and separated from the English. [Sidenote: Knight, a Buccaneer Commander, joins Davis.] Before either of the parties had left _Quibo_, William Knight, a Buccaneer already mentioned, arrived there in a ship manned with 40 Englishmen and 11 Frenchmen. This small crew of Buccaneers had crossed the _Isthmus_ about nine months before; they had been cruising both on the coast of _New Spain_ and on the coast of _Peru_; and the sum of their successes amounted to their being provided with a good vessel and a good stock of provisions. They had latterly been to the Southward, where they learnt that the _Lima_ fleet had sailed against the Buccaneers before _Panama_, which was the first notice they received of other Buccaneers than themselves being in the _South Sea_. On the intelligence, they immediately sailed for the _Bay of Panama_, that they might be present and share in the capture of the Spaniards, which they believed would inevitably be the result of a meeting. On arriving in the _Bay of Panama_, they learnt what really had happened: nevertheless, they proceeded to _Quibo_ in search of their friends. The Frenchmen in Knight's ship left her to join their countrymen: Knight and the rest of the crew, put themselves under the command of Davis. The ship commanded by Harris, was found to be in a decayed state and untenantable. Another vessel was given to him and his crew; but the whole company were so much crowded for want of ship room, that a number remained constantly in canoes. One of the canoes which they built at _Quibo_ measured 36 feet in length, and between 5 and 6 feet in width. Davis and the English party, having determined to attack the city of _Leon_ in the province of _Nicaragua_, sent an invitation to the French Buccaneers to rejoin them. The French had only one ship, which was far from sufficient to contain their whole number, and they demanded, as a condition of their uniting again with the English, that another vessel should be given to themselves. The English could ill spare a ship, and would not agree to the proposition; the separation therefore was final. Jean Rose, a Frenchman, with fourteen of his countrymen, in a new canoe they had built for themselves, left Grogniet to try their fortunes under Davis. In this, and in other separations which subsequently took place among the Buccaneers, it has been thought the most clear and convenient arrangement of narrative, to follow the fortunes of the buccaneer Commander Edward Davis and his adherents, without interruption, to the conclusion of their adventures in the _South Sea_; and afterwards, to resume the proceedings of the other adventurers. [Sidenote: Proceedings of Edward Davis. August. Expedition against the City of Leon.] On the 20th of July, Davis with eight vessels and 640 men, departed from the Island _Quibo_ for _Ria Lexa_, sailing through the channel between _Quibo_ and the main-land, and along the coast of the latter, which was low and overgrown with thick woods, and appeared thin of inhabitants. August the 9th, at eight in the morning, the ships being then so far out in the offing that they could not be descried from the shore, Davis with 520 men went away in 31 canoes for the harbour of _Ria Lexa_. They set out with fair weather; but at two in the afternoon, a tornado came from the land, with thunder, lightning, and rain, and with such violent gusts of wind that the canoes were all obliged to put right before it, to avoid being overwhelmed by the billows. Dampier remarks generally of the hot latitudes, as Lussan does of the _Pacific Ocean_, that the sea there is soon raised by the wind, and when the wind abates is soon down again. _Up Wind Up Sea, Down Wind Down Sea_, is proverbial between the tropics among seamen. The fierceness of the tornado continued about half an hour, after which the wind gradually abated, and the canoes again made towards the land. At seven in the evening it was calm, and the sea quite smooth. During the night, the Buccaneers, having the direction of a Spanish pilot, entered a narrow creek which led towards _Leon_; but the pilot could not undertake to proceed up till daylight, lest he should mistake, there being several creeks communicating with each other. [Sidenote: Leon.] The city of _Leon_ bordered on the Lake of _Nicaragua_, and was reckoned twenty miles within the sea coast. They went only a part of this distance by the river, when Davis, leaving sixty men to guard the canoes, landed with the rest and marched towards the city, two miles short of which they passed through an Indian town. _Leon_ had a cathedral and three other churches. It was not fortified, and the Spaniards, though they drew up their force in the Great Square or Parade, did not think themselves strong enough to defend the place. About three in the afternoon, the Buccaneers entered, and the Spaniards retired. All the Buccaneers who landed did not arrive at _Leon_ that same day. According to their ability for the march, Davis had disposed his men into divisions. The foremost was composed of all the most active, who marched without delay for the town, the other divisions following as speedily as they were able. The rear division being of course composed of the worst travellers, some of them could not keep pace even with their own division. They all came in afterwards except two, one of whom was killed, and the other taken prisoner. The man killed was a stout grey-headed old man of the name of Swan, aged about 84 years, who had served under Cromwell, and had ever since made privateering or buccaneering his occupation. This veteran would not be dissuaded from going on the enterprise against _Leon_; but his strength failed in the march; and after being left in the road, he was found by the Spaniards, who endeavoured to make him their prisoner; but he refused to surrender, and fired his musket amongst them, having in reserve a pistol still charged; on which he was shot dead. The houses in _Leon_ were large, built of stone, but not high, with gardens about them. 'Some have recommended _Leon_ as the most pleasant place in all _America_; and for health and pleasure it does surpass most places. The country round is of a sandy soil, which soon drinks up the rains to which these parts are much subject[55].' [Sidenote: Leon burnt by the Buccaneers.] The Buccaneers being masters of the city, the Governor sent a flag of truce to treat for its ransom. They demanded 300,000 dollars, and as much provision as would subsist 1000 men four months: also that the Buccaneer taken prisoner should be exchanged. These demands it is probable the Spaniards never intended to comply with; however they prolonged the negociation, till the Buccaneers suspected it was for the purpose of collecting force. Therefore, on the 14th, they set fire to the city, and returned to the coast. The town of _Ria Lexa_ underwent a similar fate, contrary to the intention of the Buccaneer Commander. [Sidenote: Ria Lexa. Town of Ria Lexa burnt.] _Ria Lexa_ is unwholesomely situated in a plain among creeks and swamps, 'and is never free from a noisome smell.' The soil is a strong yellow clay; in the neighbourhood of the town were many sugar-works and beef-farms; pitch, tar, and cordage were made here; with all which commodities the inhabitants carried on a good trade. The Buccaneers supplied themselves with as much as they wanted of these articles, besides which, they received at _Ria Lexa_ 150 head of cattle from a Spanish gentleman, who had been released upon his parole, and promise of making such payment for his ransom; their own man who had been made prisoner was redeemed in exchange for a Spanish lady, and they found in the town 500 packs of flour; which circumstances might have put the Buccaneers in good temper and have induced them to spare the town; 'but,' says Dampier, 'some of our destructive crew, I know not by whose order, set fire to the houses, and we marched away and left them burning.' [Sidenote: Farther Separation of the Buccaneers.] After the _Leon_ expedition, no object of enterprise occurred to them of sufficient magnitude to induce or to enable them to keep together in such large force. Dispersed in small bodies, they expected a better chance of procuring both subsistence and plunder. By general consent therefore, the confederacy which had been preserved of the English Buccaneers was relinquished, and they formed into new parties according to their several inclinations. Swan proposed to cruise along the coast of _New Spain_, and NW-ward, as far as to the entrance of the _Gulf of California_, and thence to take his departure for the _East Indies_. Townley and his followers agreed to try their fortunes with Swan as long as he remained on the coast of New _Spain_; after which they proposed to return to the _Isthmus_. In the course of settling these arrangements, William Dampier, being desirous of going to the _East Indies_, took leave of his commander, Edward Davis, and embarked with Swan. Of these, an account will be given hereafter. CHAP. XVI. _Buccaneers under =Edward Davis=. At =Amapalla= Bay; =Cocos= Island; The =Galapagos= Islands; Coast of =Peru=. Peruvian Wine. =Knight= quits the =South Sea=. Bezoar Stones. Marine productions on Mountains. =Vermejo.= =Davis= joins the French Buccaneers at =Guayaquil=. Long Sea Engagement._ [Sidenote: 1685. August.] With Davis there remained the vessels of Knight and Harris, with a tender, making in all four sail. August the 27th, they sailed from the harbour of _Ria Lexa_, and as they departed Swan saluted them with fifteen guns, to which Davis returned eleven. [Sidenote: Proceedings of the Buccaneers under Edw. Davis. Amapalla Bay.] A sickness had broken out among Davis's people, which was attributed to the unwholesomeness of the air, or the bad water, at _Ria Lexa_. After leaving the place, the disorder increased, on which account Davis sailed to the _Bay of Amapalla_, where on his arrival he built huts on one of the Islands in the Bay for the accommodation of his sick men, and landed them. Above 130 of the Buccaneers were ill with a spotted fever, and several died. Lionel Wafer was surgeon with Davis, and has given a brief account of his proceedings. Wafer, with some others, went on shore to the main land on the South side of _Amapalla Bay_, to seek for provisions. They walked to a beef farm which was about three miles from their landing. [Sidenote: A hot River.] In the way they crossed a hot river in an open savannah, or plain, which they forded with some difficulty on account of its heat. This river issued from under a hill which was not a volcano, though along the coast there were several. 'I had the curiosity,' says Wafer, 'to wade up the stream as far as I had daylight to guide me. The water was clear and shallow, but the steams were like those of a boiling pot, and my hair was wet with them. The river reeked without the hill a great way. Some of our men who had the itch, bathed themselves here, and growing well soon after, their cure was imputed to the sulphureousness or other virtue of this water.' Here were many wolves, who approached so near and so boldly to some who had straggled from the rest of their party, as to give them great alarm, and they did not dare to fire, lest the noise of their guns should bring more wolves about them. [Sidenote: Cocos Island.] Davis remained some weeks at _Amapalla Bay_, and departed thence for the Peruvian coast, with the crews of his ships recovered. In their way Southward they made _Cocos Island_, and anchored in the harbour at the NE part, where they supplied themselves with excellent fresh water and cocoa-nuts. Wafer has given the description following: 'The middle of _Cocos Island_ is a steep hill, surrounded with a plain declining to the sea. This plain is thick set with cocoa-nut trees: but what contributes greatly to the pleasure of the place is, that a great many springs of clear and sweet water rising to the top of the hill, are there gathered as in a deep large bason or pond, and the water having no channel, it overflows the verge of its bason in several places, and runs trickling down in pleasant streams. In some places of its overflowing, the rocky side of the hill being more than perpendicular, and hanging over the plain beneath, the water pours down in a cataract, so as to leave a dry space under the spout, and form a kind of arch of water. The freshness which the falling water gives the air in this hot climate makes this a delightful place. [Sidenote: Effect of Excess in drinking the Milk of the Cocoa-nut.] We did not spare the cocoa-nuts. One day, some of our men being minded to make themselves merry, went ashore and cut down a great many cocoa-nut trees; from which they gathered the fruit, and drew about twenty gallons of the milk. They then sat down and drank healths to the King and Queen, and drank an excessive quantity; yet it did not end in drunkenness: but this liquor so chilled and benumbed their nerves that they could neither go nor stand. Nor could they return on board without the help of those who had not been partakers of the frolick, nor did they recover under four or five days' time[56].' Here Peter Harris broke off consortship, and departed for the _East Indies_. The tender sailed at the same time, probably following the same route. [Sidenote: At the Galapagos Islands.] Davis and Knight continued to associate, and sailed together from _Cocos Island_ to the _Galapagos_. At one of these Islands they found fresh water; the buccaneer Journals do not specify which Island, nor any thing that can be depended upon as certain of its situation. Wafer only says, 'From _Cocos_ we came to one of the _Galapagos Islands_. At this Island there was but one watering-place, and there we careened our ship.' Dampier was not with them at this time; but in describing the _Galapagos_ Isles, he makes the following mention of Davis's careening place. 'Part of what I say of these Islands I had from Captain Davis, who was there afterwards, and careened his ship at neither of the Islands that we were at in 1684, but went to other Islands more to the Westward, which he found to be good habitable Islands, having a deep fat soil capable of producing any thing that grows in those climates: they are well watered, and have plenty of good timber. Captain Harris came hither likewise, and found some Islands that had plenty of mammee-trees, and pretty large rivers. They have good anchoring in many places, so that take the _Galapagos Islands by and large_, they are extraordinary good places for ships in distress to seek relief at[57].' Wafer has not given the date of this visit, which was the second made by Davis to the _Galapagos_; but as he stopped several weeks in the _Gulf of Amapalla_ for the recovery of his sick, and afterwards made some stay at _Cocos Island_, it must have been late in the year, if not after the end, when he arrived at the _Galapagos_, and it is probable, during, or immediately after, a rainy season. The account published by Wafer, excepting what relates to the _Isthmus_ of _Darien_, consists of short notices set down from recollection, and occupying in the whole not above fifty duodecimo pages. He mentions a tree at the Island of the _Galapagos_ where they careened, like a pear-tree, 'low and not shrubby, very sweet in smell, and full of very sweet gum.' Davis and Knight took on board their ships 500 packs or sacks of flour from the stores which had formerly been deposited at the _Galapagos_. The birds had devoured some, in consequence of the bags having been left exposed. [Sidenote: 1686. On the Coast of Peru.] From the _Galapagos_, they sailed to the coast of _Peru_, and cruised in company till near the end of 1686. They captured many vessels, which they released after plundering; and attacked several towns along the coast. They had sharp engagements with the Spaniards at _Guasco_, and at _Pisco_, the particulars of which are not related; but they plundered both the towns. [Sidenote: Peruvian Wine like Madeira.] They landed also at _La Nasca_, a small port on the coast of _Peru_ in latitude about 15° S, at which place they furnished themselves with a stock of wine. Wafer says, 'This is a rich strong wine, in taste much like Madeira. It is brought down out of the country to be shipped for _Lima_ and _Panama_. Sometimes it is kept here many years stopped up in jars, of about eight gallons each: the jars were under no shelter, but exposed to the scorching sun, being placed along the bay and between the rocks, every merchant having his own wine marked.' It could not well have been placed more conveniently for the Buccaneers. They landed at _Coquimbo_, which Wafer describes 'a large town with nine churches.' What they did there is not said. Wafer mentions a small river that emptied itself in a bay, three miles from the town, in which, up the country, the Spaniards get gold. 'The sands of the river by the sea, and round the whole Bay, are all bespangled with particles of gold; insomuch that in travelling along the sandy bays, our people were covered with a fine gold-dust, but too fine for any profit, for it would be an endless work to pick it up.' Statistical accounts of the Viceroyalty of _Peru_, which during a succession of years were printed annually at the end of the _Lima_ Almanack, notice the towns of _Santa Maria de la Perilla_, _Guasca_, _Santiago de Miraflores_, _Cañete_, _Pisco_, _Huara_, and _Guayaquil_, being sacked and in part destroyed by pirates, in the years 1685, 1686, and 1687. [Sidenote: At Juan Fernandez.] Davis and Knight having made much booty (Lussan says so much that the share of each man amounted to 5000 pieces of eight), they went to the Island _Juan Fernandez_ to refit, intending to sail thence for the _West Indies_: but before they had recruited and prepared the ships for the voyage round the South of _America_, Fortune made a new distribution of their plunder. Many lost all their money at play, and they could not endure, after so much peril, to quit the _South Sea_ empty handed, but resolved to revisit the coast of _Peru_. [Sidenote: Knight quits the South Sea.] The more fortunate party embarked with Knight for the _West Indies_. [Sidenote: Davis returns to the Coast of Peru.] The luckless residue, consisting of sixty Englishmen, and twenty Frenchmen, with Edward Davis at their head, remained with the Batchelor's Delight to begin their work afresh. They sailed from _Juan Fernandez_ for the American coast, which they made as far South as the Island _Mocha_. By traffic with the inhabitants, they procured among other provisions, a number of the Llama or Peruvian sheep. [Sidenote: Bezoar Stones.] Wafer relates, that out of the stomach of one of these sheep he took thirteen Bezoar stones of several forms, 'some resembling coral, some round, and all green when first taken out; but by long keeping they turned of an ash colour.' [Sidenote: Marine Productions found on Mountains.] In latitude 26° S, wanting fresh water, they made search for the River _Copiapo_. They landed and ascended the hills in hopes of discovering it. According to Wafer's computation they went eight miles within the coast, ascending mountain beyond mountain till they were a full mile in perpendicular height above the level of the sea. They found the ground there covered with sand and sea-shells, 'which,' says Wafer, 'I the more wondered at, because there were no shell-fish, nor could I ever find any shells, on any part of the sea-coast hereabouts, though I have looked for them in many places.' They did not discover the river they were in search of; but shortly afterwards, they landed at _Arica_, which they plundered; and at the River _Ylo_, where they took in fresh water. At _Arica_ was a house full of Jesuits' bark. [Sidenote: Vermejo.] Wafer relates, 'We also put ashore at _Vermejo_, in 10° S latitude. I was one of those who landed to see for water. We marched about four miles up a sandy bay, which we found covered with the bodies of men, women, and children. These bodies to appearance, seemed as if they had not been above a week dead; but if touched, they proved dry and light as a sponge or piece of cork. We were told by an old Spanish Indian whom we met, that in his father's time, the soil there, which now yielded nothing, was well cultivated and fruitful: that the city of _Wormia_ had been so numerously inhabited with Indians, that they could have handed a fish from hand to hand until it had come to the Inca's hand. But that when the Spaniards came and laid siege to their city, the Indians, rather than yield to their mercy, dug holes in the sand and buried themselves alive. The men as they now lie, have by them their broken bows; and the women their spinning-wheels and distaffs with cotton yarn upon them. Of these dead bodies I brought on board a boy of about ten years of age with an intent to bring him to _England_; but was frustrated of my purpose by the sailors, who had a foolish conceit that the compass would not traverse right whilst there was a dead body on board, so they threw him overboard to my great vexation[58].' [Sidenote: April.] Near this part of the coast of _Peru_, in April 1687, Davis had a severe action with a Spanish frigate, named the Katalina, in which the drunkenness of his crew gave opportunity to the Spanish Commander, who had made a stout defence, to run his ship ashore upon the coast. They fell in with many other Spanish vessels, which, after plundering, they dismissed. Shortly after the engagement with the Spanish frigate Katalina, Davis made a descent at _Payta_, to seek refreshments for his wounded men, and surprised there a courier with dispatches from the Spanish Commander at _Guayaquil_ to the Viceroy at _Lima_, by which he learnt that a large body of English and French Buccaneers had attacked, and were then in possession of, the town of _Guayaquil_. [Sidenote: May.] The Governor had been taken prisoner by the Buccaneers, and the Deputy or next in authority, made pressing instances for speedy succour, in his letter to the Viceroy, which, according to Lussan, contained the following passage: '_The time has expired some days which was appointed for the ransom of our prisoners. I amuse the enemy with the hopes of some thousands of pieces of eight, and they have sent me the heads of four of our prisoners: but if they send me fifty, I should esteem it less prejudicial than our suffering these ruffians to live. If your Excellency will hasten the armament to our assistance, here will be a fair opportunity to rid ourselves of them._' [Sidenote: Davis joins other Buccaneers at Guayaquil.] Upon this news, and the farther intelligence that Spanish ships of war had been dispatched from _Callao_ to the relief of _Guayaquil_, Davis sailed for that place, and, on May the 14th, arrived in the _Bay of Guayaquil_, where he found many of his old confederates; for these were the French Buccaneers who had separated from him under Grogniet, and the English who had gone with Townley. Those two leaders had been overtaken by the perils of their vocation, and were no more. But whilst in their mortal career, and after their separation from Davis, though they had at one time been adverse almost to hostility against each other, they had met, been reconciled, and had associated together. Townley died first, of a wound he received in battle, and was succeeded in the command of the English by a Buccaneer named George Hout or Hutt. At the attack of _Guayaquil_, Grogniet was mortally wounded; and Le Picard was chosen by the French to succeed him in the command. _Guayaquil_ was taken on the 20th of April; the plunder and a number of prisoners had been conveyed by the Buccaneers to their ships, which were at anchor by the Island _Puna_, when their unwearied good fortune brought Davis to join them. The taking of _Guayaquil_ by the Buccaneers under Grogniet and Hutt will be more circumstantially noticed in the sequel, with other proceedings of the same crews. When Davis joined them, they were waiting with hopes, nearly worn out, of obtaining a large ransom which had been promised them for the town of _Guayaquil_, and for their prisoners. [Sidenote: Near the Island Puna.] The information Davis had received made him deem it prudent, instead of going to anchor at _Puna_, to remain with his ship on the look-out in the offing; he therefore sent a prize-vessel into the road to acquaint the Buccaneers there of his being near at hand, and that the Spaniards were to be expected shortly. The captors of _Guayaquil_ continued many days after this to wait for ransom. They had some hundreds of prisoners, for whose sakes the Spaniards sent daily to the Buccaneers large supplies of provisions, of which the prisoners could expect to receive only the surplus after the Buccaneers should be satisfied. At length, the Spaniards sent 42,000 pieces of eight, the most part in gold, and eighty packages of flour. The sum was far short of the first agreement, and the Buccaneers at _Puna_, to make suitable return, released only a part of the prisoners, reserving for a subsequent settlement those of the most consideration. [Sidenote: 26th. Meeting between Spanish Ships of War and the Buccaneers.] On the 26th, they quitted the road of _Puna_, and joined Davis. In the evening of the same day, two large Spanish ships came in sight. Davis's ship mounted 36 guns; and her crew, which had been much diminished by different engagements, was immediately reinforced with 80 men from Le Picard's party. Besides Davis's ship, the Buccaneers had only a small ship and a _barca-longa_ fit to come into action. Their prize vessels which could do no service, were sent for security into shallow water. [Sidenote: A Sea Engagement of seven days.] On the morning of the 27th, the Buccaneers and Spaniards were both without the Island _S^{ta} Clara_. The Spaniards were the farthest out at sea, and had the sea-breeze first, with which they bore down till about noon, when being just within the reach of cannon-shot, they hauled upon a wind, and began a distant cannonade, which was continued till evening: the two parties then drew off to about a league asunder, and anchored for the night. On the morning of the 28th, they took up their anchors, and the day was spent in distant firing, and in endeavours to gain or to keep the wind of each other. The same kind of manoeuvring and distant firing was put in practice on each succeeding day, till the evening of the 2d of June, which completed the seventh day of this obstinate engagement. The Spanish Commander, being then satisfied that he had fought long enough, and hopeless of prevailing on the enemy to yield, withdrew in the night. [Sidenote: June. The Spaniards retire.] On the morning of the 3d, the Buccaneers were surprised, and not displeased, at finding no enemy in sight. During all this fighting, the Buccaneers indulged their vanity by keeping the Governor of _Guayaquil_, and other prisoners of distinction, upon deck, to witness the superiority of their management over that of the Spaniards. It was not indeed a post of much danger, for in the whole seven days battle, not one Buccaneer was killed, and only two or three were wounded. It may be some apology for the Spanish Commander, that in consequence of Davis's junction with the captors of _Guayaquil_, he found a much greater force to contend with than he had been taught to expect. Fortune had been peculiarly unfavourable to the Spaniards on this occasion. Three ships of force had been equipped and sent in company against the Buccaneers at _Guayaquil_. One of them, the Katalina, by accident was separated from the others, and fell in with Davis, by whom she was driven on the coast, where she stranded. The Spanish armament thus weakened one-third, on arriving in the _Bay of Guayaquil_, found the buccaneer force there increased, by this same Davis, in a proportion greater than their own had been diminished. [Sidenote: At the Island De la Plata.] Davis and Le Picard left the choice of distance to the Spaniards in this meeting, not considering it their business to come to serious battle unless forced. They had reason to be satisfied with having defended themselves and their plunder; and after the enemy disappeared, finding the coast clear, they sailed to the Island _De la Plata_, where they stopped to repair damages, and to hold council. They all now inclined homewards. The booty they had made, if it fell short of the expectations of some, was sufficient to make them eager to be where they could use or expend it; but they were not alike provided with the means of returning to the _North Sea_. Davis had a stout ship, and he proposed to go the Southern passage by the _Strait of Magalhanes_, or round _Cape Horne_. No other of the vessels in the possession of the Buccaneers was strong enough for such a voyage. All the French therefore, and many of the English Buccaneers, bent their thoughts on returning overland, an undertaking that would inevitably be attended with much difficulty, encumbered as they were with their plunder, and the Darien Indians having become hostile to them. Almost all the Frenchmen in Davis's ship, left her to join their countrymen, and many of the English from their party embarked with Davis. All thoughts of farther negociation with the Spaniards for the ransom of prisoners, were relinquished. Le Picard had given notice on quitting the _Bay of Guayaquil_, that payment would be expected for the release of the remaining prisoners, and that the Buccaneers would wait for it at _Cape Santa Elena_; but they had passed that _Cape_, and it was apprehended that if they returned thither, instead of receiving ransom, they might find the Spanish ships of war, come to renew the attack on them under other Commanders. On the 10th, they landed their prisoners on the Continent. [Sidenote: Division of Plunder.] The next day they shared the plunder taken at _Guayaquil_. The jewels and ornaments could not well be divided, nor could their value be estimated to general satisfaction: neither could they agree upon a standard proportion between the value of gold and silver. Every man was desirous to receive for his share such parts of the spoil as were most portable, and this was more especially of importance to those who intended to march overland. The value of gold was so much enhanced that an ounce of gold was received in lieu of eighty dollars, and a Spanish pistole went for fifteen dollars; but these instances probably took place in settling their gaming accounts. In the division of the plunder these difficulties were obviated by a very ingenious and unobjectionable mode of distribution. The silver was first divided: the other articles were then put up to auction, and bid for in pieces of eight; and when all were so disposed of, a second division was made of the silver produced by the sale. Davis and his company were not present at the taking of _Guayaquil_, but the services they had rendered, had saved both the plunder and the plunderers, and gave them a fair claim to share. Neither Wafer nor Lussan speak to this point, from which it may be inferred that every thing relating to the division was settled among them amicably, and that Davis and his men had no reason to be dissatisfied. Lussan gives a loose statement of the sum total and of the single shares. 'Notwithstanding that these things were sold so dearly, we shared for the taking of _Guayaquil_ only 400 pieces of eight to each man, which would make in the whole about fifteen hundred thousand _livres_.' The number of Buccaneers with Grogniet and Hutt immediately previous to the attack of _Guayaquil_, was 304. Davis's crew at the time he separated from Knight, consisted of eighty men. He had afterwards lost men in several encounters, and it is probable the whole number present at the sharing of the plunder of _Guayaquil_ was short of three hundred and fifty. Allowing the extra shares to officers to have been 150, making the whole number of shares 500, the amount of the plunder will fall short of Lussan's estimate. [Sidenote: They separate to return home by different Routes.] On the 12th, the two parties finally took leave of each other and separated, bound by different routes for the _Atlantic_. CHAP. XVII. _=Edward Davis=; his Third visit to the =Galapagos=. One of those Islands, named =Santa Maria de l'Aguada= by the Spaniards, a Careening Place of the Buccaneers. Sailing thence Southward they discover Land. Question, whether Edward Davis's Discovery is the Land which was afterwards named =Easter Island=? =Davis= and his Crew arrive in the =West Indies=._ [Sidenote: 1687. Davis sails to the Galapagos Islands.] Davis again sailed to the _Galapagos Islands_, to victual and refit his ship. Lionel Wafer was still with him, and appears to have been one of those to whom fortune had been most unpropitious. Wafer does not mention either the joining company with the French Buccaneers, or the plunder of _Guayaquil_; and particularises few of his adventures. He says, 'I shall not pursue all my coasting along the shore of _Peru_ with Captain Davis. We continued rambling about to little purpose, sometimes at sea, sometimes ashore, till having spent much time and visited many places, we were got again to the _Galapagos_; from whence we were determined to make the best of our way out of these seas.' At the _Galapagos_ they again careened; and there they victualled the ship, taking on board a large supply of flour, curing fish, salting flesh of the land turtle for sea store; and they saved as much of the oil of the land turtle as filled sixty jars (of eight gallons each) which proved excellent, and was thought not inferior to fresh butter. [Sidenote: King James's Island.] Captain Colnet was at the _Galapagos Isles_ in the years 1793 and 1794, and found traces, still fresh, which marked the haunts of the Buccaneers. He says, 'At every place where we landed on the Western side of _King James's Isle_, we might have walked for miles through long grass and beneath groves of trees. It only wanted a stream to compose a very charming landscape. This Isle appears to have been a favourite resort of the Buccaneers, as we found seats made by them of earth and stone, and a considerable number of broken jars scattered about, and some whole, in which the Peruvian wine and liquors of the country are preserved. We also found daggers, nails, and other implements. The watering-place of the Buccaneers was at this time (the latter part of April or beginning of May) entirely dried up, and there was only found a small rivulet between two hills running into the sea; the Northernmost of which hills forms the South point of _Fresh Water Bay_. There is plenty of wood, but that near the shore is not large enough for other use than fire-wood. In the mountains the trees may be larger, as they grow to the summits. I do not think the watering-place we saw is the only one on the Island, and I have no doubt, if wells were dug any where beneath the hills, and not near the lagoon behind the sandy beach, that fresh water would be found in great plenty[59].' Since Captain Colnet's Voyage, Captain David Porter of the American United States' frigate Essex, has seen and given descriptions of the _Galapagos_ Islands. He relates an anecdote which accords with Captain Colnet's opinion of there being fresh water at _King James's Island_. He landed, on its West side, four goats (one male and three female) and some sheep, to graze. As they were tame and of their own accord kept near the landing-place, they were left every night without a keeper, and water was carried to them in the morning. 'But one morning, after they had been on the Island several days and nights, the person who attended them went on shore as usual to give them water, but no goats were to be found: they had all as with one accord disappeared. Several persons were sent to search after them for two or three days, but without success.' Captain Porter concluded that they had found fresh water in the interior of the Island, and chose to remain near it. 'One fact,' he says, 'was noticed by myself and many others, the day preceding their departure, which must lead us to believe that something more than chance directed their movements, which is, that they all drank an unusual quantity of water on that day, as though they had determined to provide themselves with a supply to enable them to reach the mountains[60].' Davis and his men had leisure for search and to make every kind of experiment; but no one of his party has given any description or account of what was transacted at the _Galapagos_ in this his third visit. Light, however, has been derived from late voyages. [Sidenote: The Island S^{ta} Maria de l'Aguada, a Careening Place of the Buccaneers.] It has been generally believed, but not till lately ascertained, that Davis passed most of the time he was amongst the _Galapagos_, at an Island which the Spaniards have designated by the name of _S^{ta} Maria de l'Aguada_, concerning the situation of which the Spaniards as well as geographers of other countries have disagreed. A Spanish pilot reported to Captain Woodes Rogers that _S^{ta} Maria de l'Aguada_ lay by itself, (i. e. was not one of a groupe of Islands) in latitude 1° 20' or 1° 30' S, was a pleasant Island, well stocked with wood, and with plenty of fresh water[61]. Moll, DeVaugondy, and others, combining the accounts given by Dampier and Woodes Rogers, have placed a _S^{ta} Maria de l'Aguada_ several degrees to the Westward of the whole of Cowley's groupe. Don Antonio de Ulloa, on the contrary, has laid it down as one of the _Galapagos Isles_, but among the most South-eastern of the whole groupe. More consonant with recent information, Pascoe Thomas, who sailed round the world with Commodore Anson, has given from a Spanish manuscript the situations of different Islands of the _Galapagos_, and among them that of _S^{ta} Maria de l'Aguada_. The most Western in the Spanish list published by Thomas is named _S^{ta} Margarita_, and is the same with the _Albemarle Island_ in Cowley's chart. The _S^{ta} Maria de l'Aguada_ is set down in the same Spanish list in latitude 1° 10' S, and 19 minutes in longitude more East than the longitude given of _S^{ta} Margarita_, which situation is due South of Cowley's _King James's Island_. Captain Colnet saw land due South of _King James's Island_, which he did not anchor at or examine, and appears to have mistaken for the _King Charles's Island_ of Cowley's chart. On comparing Captain Colnet's chart with Cowley's, it is evident that Captain Colnet has given the name of _Lord Chatham's Isle_ to Cowley's _King Charles's Island_, the bearings and distance from the South end of _Albemarle Island_ being the same in both, i. e. due East about 20 leagues. It follows that the _Charles Island_ of Colnet's chart was not seen by Cowley, and that it is the _S^{ta} Maria de l'Aguada_ of the Spaniards. It has lately been frequented by English and by American vessels employed in the South Sea Whale Fishery, who have found a good harbour on its North side, with wood and fresh water; and marks are yet discoverable that it was formerly a careening place of the buccaneers. Mr. Arrowsmith has added this harbour to Captain Colnet's chart, on the authority of information communicated by the master of a South Sea whaler. From Captain David Porter's Journal, it appears that the watering-place at _S^{ta} Maria de l'Aguada_ is three miles distant from any part of the sea-shore; and that the supply it yields is not constant. On arriving a second time at the _Galapagos_, in the latter part of August, Captain Porter sent a boat on shore to this Island. Captain Porter relates, 'I gave directions that our former watering-places there should be examined, but was informed that they were entirely dried up.' [Illustration: GALLAPAGOS ISLANDS, _Described by_ Ambrose Cowley _in 1684_.] Cowley's chart, being original, a buccaneer performance, and not wholly out of use, is annexed to this account; with the insertion, in unshaded outline, of the _S^{ta} Maria de l'Aguada_, according to its situation with respect to _Albemarle Island_, as laid down in the last edition of Captain Colnet's chart, published by Mr. Arrowsmith. This unavoidably makes a difference in the latitude equal to the difference between Cowley's and Captain Colnet's latitude of the South end of _Albemarle Island_. In Captain Colnet's chart, the North end of _S^{ta} Maria de l'Aguada_ is laid down in 1° 15' S. The voyage of the Essex gives reasonable expectation of an improved chart of the _Galapagos Isles_, the Rev. Mr. Adams, who sailed as Chaplain in that expedition, having employed himself actively in surveying them. [Sidenote: 1687. Davis sails from the Galapagos to the Southward.] When the season approached for making the passage round _Cape Horne_, Davis and his company quitted their retreat. The date of their sailing is not given. Wafer relates, 'From the _Galapagos Islands_ we went again for the Southward, intending to touch no where till we came to the Island _Juan Fernandez_. In our way thither, being in the latitude of 12° 30' S, and about 150 leagues from the main of _America_, about four o'clock in the morning, our ship felt a terrible shock, so sudden and violent that we took it for granted she had struck upon a rock. When the amazement was a little over, we cast the lead and sounded, but found no ground, so we concluded it must certainly be some earthquake. The sea, which ordinarily looks green, seemed then of a whitish colour; and the water which we took up in the buckets for the ship's use, we found to be a little mixed with sand. Some time after, we heard that at that very time, there was an earthquake at _Callao_, which did mischief both there and at _Lima_.' [Sidenote: Island discovered by Edw. Davis.] 'Having recovered our fright, we kept on to the Southward. We steered SbE 1/2 Easterly, until we came to the latitude of 27° 20' S, when about two hours before day, we fell in with a small low sandy Island, and heard a great roaring noise, like that of the sea beating upon the shore, right ahead of the ship. Whereupon, fearing to fall foul upon the shore before day, the ship was put about. So we plied off till day, and then stood in again with the land, which proved to be a small flat Island, without the guard of any rocks. We stood in within a quarter of a mile of the shore, and could see it plainly, for it was a clear morning. To the Westward, about twelve leagues by judgement, we saw a range of high land, which we took to be Islands, for there were several partitions in the prospect. This land seemed to reach about 14 or 16 leagues in a range, and there came thence great flocks of fowls. I, and many of our men would have made this land, and have gone ashore at it, but the Captain would not permit us. The small Island bears from _Copiapo_ almost due East [West was intended] 500 leagues, and from the _Galapagos_ under the line is distant 600 leagues[62].' Dampier was not present at this discovery; but he met his old Commander afterwards, and relates information he received concerning it in the following words. 'Captain Davis told me lately, that after his departing from us at _Ria Lexa_, he went, after several traverses, to the _Galapagos_, and that standing thence Southward for wind to bring him about the _Tierra del Fuego_, in the latitude of 27° S, about 500 leagues from _Copayapo_ on the coast of _Chili_, he saw a small sandy Island just by him; and that they saw to the Westward of it a long tract of pretty high land, tending away toward the NW out of sight[63].' [Sidenote: Question whether Edward Davis's Land and Easter Island are the same Land, or different.] The two preceding paragraphs contain the whole which either in Wafer or Dampier is said concerning this land. The apprehension of being late in the season for the passage round _Cape Horne_ seems to have deterred Davis from making examination of his discovery. The latitude and specified distance from _Copiapo_ were particulars sufficient to direct future search; and twenty-five years afterwards, Jacob Roggewein, a Dutch navigator, guided by those marks, found land; but it being more distant from the American Continent than stated by Davis or Wafer, Roggewein claimed it as a new discovery. A more convenient place for discussing this point, which has been a lasting subject of dispute among geographers, would be in an account of Roggewein's voyage; but a few remarks here may be satisfactory. Wafer kept neither journal nor reckoning, his profession not being that of a mariner; and from circumstances which occur in Davis's navigation to the _Atlantic_, it may reasonably be doubted whether a regular reckoning or journal was kept by any person on board; and whether the 500 leagues distance of the small Island from the American coast mentioned by Davis and Wafer, was other than a conjectured distance. They had no superior by whom a journal of their proceedings would be required or expected. If a regular journal had really been kept, it would most probably have found its way to the press. Jacob Roggewein, the Dutch Admiral, was more than any other navigator, willing to give himself the credit of making new discoveries, as the following extracts from the Journal of his expedition will evince. 'We looked for _Hawkins's Maiden Land_, but could not find it; but we discovered an Island 200 leagues in circuit, in latitude 52° S, about 200 leagues distant to the East of the coast of _South America_, which we named _Belgia Austral_.' That is as much as to say, Admiral Roggewein could not find _Hawkins's Maiden Land_; but he discovered land on the same spot, which he named _Belgia Austral_. Afterwards, proceeding in the same disposition, the Journal relates, 'We directed our course from _Juan Fernandez_ towards _Davis's Land_, but to the great astonishment of the Admiral (Roggewein) it was not seen. I think we either missed it, or that there is no such land. We went on towards the West, and on the anniversary of the Resurrection of our Saviour, we came in sight of an Island. We named it _Paaschen_ or _Oster Eylandt_ (i. e. Easter Island).' _Paaschen_ or _Easter Island_ according to modern charts and observations, is nearly 690 leagues distant from _Copiapo_, which is in the same parallel on the Continent of _America_. The statement of Davis and Wafer makes the distance only 512 leagues, which is a difference of 178 leagues. It is not probable that Davis could have had good information of the longitudes of the _Galapagos Islands_ and _Copiapo_; but with every allowance, so large an error as 178 leagues in a run of 600 leagues might be thought incredible, if its possibility had not been demonstrated by a much greater being made by the same persons in this same homeward passage; as will be related. In the latitude and appearance of the land, the descriptions of Davis and Wafer are correct, _Easter Island_ being a mountainous land, which will make partitions in the distant prospect and appear like a number of Islands. Roggewein's claim to _Paaschen_ or _Easter Island_ as a new discovery has had countenance and support from geographers, some of the first eminence, but has been made a subject of jealous contest, and not of impartial investigation. If Roggewein discovered an Island farther to the West of the American coast than _Davis's Land_, it must follow that Davis's land lies between his discovery and the Continent; but that part of the _South Sea_ has been so much explored, that if any high land had existed between _Easter Island_ and the American coast, it could not have escaped being known. There is not the least improbability that ships, in making a passage from the _Galapagos Isles_ through the South East trade-wind, shall come into the neighbourhood of _Easter Island_. Edward Davis has generally been thought a native of _England_, but according to Lussan, and nothing appears to the contrary, he was a native of _Holland_. The majority of the Buccaneers in the ship, however, were British. How far to that source may be traced the disposition to refuse the Buccaneers the credit of the discovery, and how much national partialities have contributed to the dispute, may be judged from this circumstance, that _Easter Island_ being _Davis's Land_ has never been doubted by British geographers, and has been questioned only by those of other nations. The merit of the discovery is nothing, for the Buccaneers were not in search of land, but came without design in sight of it, and would not look at what they had accidentally found. And whether the discovery is to be attributed to Edward Davis or to his crew, ought to be esteemed of little concern to the nations of which they were natives, seeing the discoverers were men outlawed, and whose acts were disowned by the governments of their countries. Passing from considerations of claims to consideration of the fact;--there is not the smallest plea for questioning, nor has any one questioned the truth of the Buccaneers having discovered a high Island West of the American coast, in or near the latitude of 27° S. If different from _Easter Island_, it must be supposed to be situated between that and the Continent. But however much it has been insisted or argued that _Easter Island_ is not _Davis's Land_, no chart has yet pretended to shew two separate Islands, one for Edward Davis's discovery, and one for Roggewein's. The one Island known has been in constant requisition for double duty; and must continue so until another Island of the same description shall be found. [Sidenote: 1687. At the Island Juan Fernandez.] Davis arrived at _Juan Fernandez_ 'at the latter end of the year,' and careened there. Since the Buccaneers were last at the Island, the Spaniards had put dogs on shore, for the purpose of killing the goats. Many, however, found places among precipices, where the dogs could not get at them, and the Buccaneers shot as many as served for their daily consumption. Here again, five men of Davis's crew, who had gamed away their money, 'and were unwilling to return out of these seas as poor as they came in,' determined on staying at _Juan Fernandez_, to take the chance of some other buccaneer ship, or privateer, touching at the Island. A canoe, arms, ammunition, and various implements were given to them, with a stock of maize for planting, and some for their immediate subsistence; and each of these gentlemen had a negro attendant landed with him. From _Juan Fernandez_, Davis sailed to the Islands _Mocha_ and _Santa Maria_, near the Continent, where he expected to have procured provisions, but he found both those Islands deserted and laid waste, the Spaniards having obliged the inhabitants to remove, that the Buccaneers might not obtain supply there. The season was advanced, therefore without expending more time in searching for provisions, they bent their course Southward. They passed round _Cape Horne_ without seeing land, but fell in with many Islands of ice, and ran so far Eastward before they ventured to steer a Northerly course, that afterwards, when, in the parallel of the _River de la Plata_, they steered Westward to make the American coast, which they believed to be only one hundred leagues distant, they sailed 'four hundred and fifty leagues to the West in the same latitude,' before they came in sight of land; whence many began to apprehend they were still in the _South Sea_[64], and this belief would have gained ground, if a flight of locusts had not alighted on the ship, which a strong flurry of wind had blown off from the American coast. [Sidenote: 1688. Davis sails to the West Indies.] They arrived in the _West Indies_ in the spring of the year 1688, at a time when a proclamation had recently been issued, offering the King's pardon to all Buccaneers who would quit that way of life, and claim the benefit of the proclamation. It was not the least of fortune's favours to this crew of Buccaneers, that they should find it in their power, without any care or forethought of their own, to terminate a long course of piratical adventures in quietness and security. Edward Davis was afterwards in _England_, as appears by the notice given of his discovery by William Dampier, who mentions him always with peculiar respect. Though a Buccaneer, he was a man of much sterling worth; being an excellent Commander, courageous, never rash, and endued in a superior degree with prudence, moderation, and steadiness; qualities in which the Buccaneers generally have been most deficient. His character is not stained with acts of cruelty; on the contrary, wherever he commanded, he restrained the ferocity of his companions. It is no small testimony of his abilities that the whole of the Buccaneers in the _South Sea_ during his time, in every enterprise wherein he bore part, voluntarily placed themselves under his guidance, and paid him obedience as their leader; and no symptom occurs of their having at any time wavered in this respect, or shewn inclination to set up a rival authority. It may almost be said, that the only matter in which they were not capricious was their confidence in his management; and in it they found their advantage, if not their preservation. CHAP. XVIII. _Adventures of =Swan= and =Townley= on the Coast of =New Spain=, until their Separation._ [Sidenote: Swan and Townley.] The South Sea adventures of the buccaneer Chief Davis being brought to a conclusion, the next related will be those of Swan and his crew in the Cygnet, they being the first of the Buccaneers who after the battle in the _Bay of Panama_ left the _South Sea_. William Dampier who was in Swan's ship, kept a Journal of their proceedings, which is published, and the manuscript also has been preserved. [Sidenote: 1685. August.] Swan and Townley, the reader may recollect, were left by Edward Davis in the harbour of _Ria Lexa_, in the latter part of August 1685, and had agreed to keep company together Westward towards the entrance of the _Gulf of California_. [Sidenote: Bad Water, and Unhealthiness of Ria Lexa.] They remained at _Ria Lexa_ some days longer to take in fresh water, 'such as it was,' and they experienced from it the same bad effects which it had on Davis's men; for, joined to the unwholesomeness of the place, it produced a malignant fever, by which several were carried off. [Sidenote: September. On the Coast of New Spain.] On September the 3d, they put to sea, four sail in company, i. e. the Cygnet, Townley's ship, and two tenders; the total of the crews being 340 men. [Sidenote: Tornadoes.] The season was not favourable for getting Westward along this coast. Westerly winds were prevalent, and scarcely a day passed without one or two violent tornadoes, which were accompanied with frightful flashes of lightning, and claps of thunder, 'the like,' says Dampier, 'I did never meet with before nor since.' These tornadoes generally came out of the NE, very fierce, and did not last long. When the tornado was passed, the wind again settled Westward. On account of these storms, Swan and Townley kept a large offing; but towards the end of the month, the weather became settled. On the 24th, Townley, and 106 men in nine canoes, went on Westward, whilst the ships lay by two days with furled sails, to give them time to get well forward, by which they would come the more unexpectedly upon any place along the coast. [Sidenote: October.] Townley proceeded, without finding harbour or inlet, to the Bay of _Tecuantepeque_, where putting ashore at a sandy beach, the canoes were all overset by the surf, one man drowned, and some muskets lost. Townley however drew the canoes up dry, and marched into the country; but notwithstanding that they had not discovered any inlet on the coast, they found the country intersected with great creeks not fordable, and were forced to return to their canoes. A body of Spaniards and Indians came to reconnoitre them, from the town of _Tecuantepeque_, to seek which place was the chief purpose of the Buccaneers when they landed. 'The Spanish books,' says Dampier, 'mention a large river there, but whether it was run away at this time, or rather that Captain Townley and his men were shortsighted, I know not; but they did not find it.' October the 2d, the canoes returned to the ships. The wind was fresh and fair from the ENE, and they sailed Westward, keeping within short distance of the shore, but found neither harbour nor opening. They had soundings all the way, the depth being 21 fathoms, a coarse sandy bottom, at eight miles distance from the land. [Sidenote: Island Tangola.] Having run about 20 leagues along the coast, they came to a small high Island called _Tangola_, on which they found wood and water; and near it, good anchorage. 'This Island is about a league distant from the main, which is pretty high, and savannah land by the sea; but within land it is higher and woody.'---- [Sidenote: Guatulco. El Buffadore, a spouting Rock.] 'We coasted a league farther, and came to _Guatulco_, in latitude 15° 30', which is one of the best ports in this Kingdom of _Mexico_. Near a mile from the mouth of the harbour, on the East side, is a little Island close by the main-land. On the West side of the mouth of the harbour, is a great hollow rock, which by the continual working of the sea in and out, makes a great noise, and may be heard a great way; every surge that comes in, forces the water out at a little hole at the top, as out of a pipe, from whence it flies out just like the blowing of a whale, to which the Spaniards liken it, and call it _El Buffadore_. Even at the calmest seasons, the beating of the sea makes the waterspout out at the hole, so that this is always a good mark to find the harbour of _Guatulco_ by. [Sidenote: The Harbour of Guatulco.] The harbour runs in NW, is about three miles deep, and one mile broad. The West side of the harbour is the best for small ships to ride in: any where else you are open to SW winds, which often blow here. There is clean ground any where, and good gradual soundings from 16 to 6 fathoms: it is bounded by a smooth sandy shore, good for landing; and at the bottom of the harbour is a fine brook of fresh water running into the sea. The country is extraordinary pleasant and delightful to behold at a distance[65].' There appeared to be so few inhabitants at this part of the coast, that the Buccaneers were not afraid to land their sick. A party of men went Eastward to seek for houses and inhabitants, and at a league distance from _Guatulco_ they found a river, named by the Spaniards _El Capalita_, which had a swift current, and was deep at the entrance. They took a few Indians prisoners, but learnt nothing of the country from them. [Sidenote: Vinello, or Vanilla, a Plant.] On the 6th, Townley with 140 men marched fourteen miles inland, and in all that way found only one small Indian village, the inhabitants of which cultivated and cured a plant called _Vinello_, which grows on a vine, and is used to perfume chocolate, and sometimes tobacco. The 10th, the canoes were sent Westward; and on the 12th, the ships followed, the crews being well recovered of the _Ria Lexa_ fever. 'The coast (from _Guatulco_) lies along West and a little Southerly for 20 or 30 leagues[66].' [Sidenote: Island Sacrificio.] On account of a current which set Eastward, they anchored near a small green Island named _Sacrificio_, about a league to the West of _Guatulco_, and half a mile from the main. In the channel between, was five or six fathoms depth, and the tide ran there very swift. [Sidenote: Port de Angeles.] They advanced Westward; but slowly. The canoes were again overset in attempting to land near _Port de Angeles_, at a place where cattle were seen feeding, and another man was drowned. Dampier says, 'We were at this time abreast of _Port de Angeles_, but those who had gone in the canoes did not know it, because the Spaniards describe it to be as good a harbour as _Guatulco_. It is a broad open bay with two or three rocks at the West side. There is good anchorage all over the bay in depth from 30 to 12 fathoms, but you are open to all winds till you come into 12 fathoms, and then you are sheltered from the WSW, which is here the common trade-wind. Here always is a great swell, and landing is bad. The place of landing is close by the West side, behind a few rocks. Latitude 15° N. The tide rises about five feet. The land round _Port de Angeles_ is pretty high, the earth sandy and yellow, in some places red.' The Buccaneers landed at _Port de Angeles_, and supplied themselves with cattle, hogs, poultry, maize, and salt; and a large party of them remained feasting three days at a farm-house. The 27th, they sailed on Westward. Some of their canoes in seeking _Port de Angeles_ had been as far Westward as _Acapulco_. In their way back, they found a river, into which they went, and filled fresh water. Afterwards, they entered a _lagune_ or lake of salt water, where fishermen had cured, and stored up fish, of which the Buccaneers took away a quantity. [Sidenote: Adventure in a Lagune.] On the evening of the 27th, Swan and Townley anchored in 16 fathoms depth, near a small rocky Island, six leagues Westward of _Port de Angeles_, and about half a mile distant from the main land. The next day they sailed on, and in the night of the 28th, being abreast the lagune above mentioned, a canoe manned with twelve men was sent to bring off more of the fish. The entrance into the lagune was not more than pistol-shot wide, and on each side were rocks, high enough and convenient to skreen or conceal men. The Spaniards having more expectation of this second visit than they had of the first, a party of them, provided with muskets, took station behind these rocks. They waited patiently till the canoe of the Buccaneers was fairly within the lagune, and then fired their volley, and wounded five men. The buccaneer crew were not a little surprised, yet returned the fire; but not daring to repass the narrow entrance, they rowed to the middle of the lagune, where they lay out of the reach of shot. There was no other passage out but the one by which they had entered, which besides being so narrow was a quarter of a mile in length, and it was too desperate an undertaking to attempt to repass it. Not knowing what else to do, they lay still two whole days and three nights in hopes of relief from the ships. It was not an uncommon circumstance among the Buccaneers, for parties sent away on any particular design, to undertake some new adventure; the long absence of the canoe therefore created little surprise in the ships, which lay off at sea waiting without solicitude for her return; till Townley's ship happening to stand nearer to the shore than the rest, heard muskets fired in the lagune. He then sent a strong party in his canoes, which obliged the Spaniards to retreat from the rocks, and leave the passage free for the hitherto penned-up Buccaneers. Dampier gives the latitude of this lagune, 'about 16° 40' N.' [Sidenote: November. Alcatraz Rock. White Cliffs. River to the West of the Cliffs.] They coasted on Westward, with fair weather, and a current setting to the West. On November the 2d, they passed a rock called by the Spaniards the _Alcatraz_ (Pelican.) 'Five or six miles to the West of the rock are seven or eight white cliffs, which are remarkable, because there are none other so white and so thick together on all the coast. A dangerous shoal lies SbW from these cliffs, four or five miles off at sea. Two leagues to the West of these cliffs is a pretty large river, which forms a small Island at its mouth. The channel on the East side is shoal and sandy; the West channel is deep enough for canoes to enter.' The Spaniards had raised a breastwork on the banks of this channel, and they made a show of resisting the Buccaneers; but seeing they were determined on landing, they quitted the place; on which Dampier honestly remarks, 'One chief reason why the Spaniards are so frequently routed by us, though much our superiors in number, is, their want of fire-arms; for they have but few unless near their large garrisons.' [Sidenote: Snook, a Fish.] A large quantity of salt intended for salting the fish caught in the lagune, was taken here. Dampier says, 'The fish in these lagunes were of a kind called Snooks, which are neither sea-fish nor fresh-water fish; it is about a foot long, round, and as thick as the small of a man's leg, has a pretty long head, whitish scales, and is good meat.' [Sidenote: November 7th. High Land of Acapulco.] A Mulatto whom they took prisoner told them that a ship of twenty guns had lately arrived at _Acapulco_ from _Lima_. Townley and his crew had long been dissatisfied with their ship; and in hopes of getting a better, they stood towards the harbour of _Acapulco_. On the 7th, they made the high land over _Acapulco_, 'which is remarkable by a round hill standing between two other hills, both higher, the Westernmost of which is the biggest and the highest, and has two hillocks like two paps at the top.' Dampier gives the latitude of _Acapulco_ 17° N[67]. This was not near the usual time either of the departure or of the arrival of the Manila ships, and except at those times, _Acapulco_ is almost deserted on account of the situation being unhealthy. _Acapulco_ is described hot, unwholesome, pestered with gnats, and having nothing good but the harbour. Merchants depart from it as soon as they have transacted their business. Townley accordingly expected to bring off the _Lima_ ship quietly, and with little trouble. In the evening of the 7th, the ships being then so far from land that they could not be descried, Townley with 140 men departed in twelve canoes for the harbour of _Acapulco_. They did not reach _Port Marques_ till the second night; and on the third night they rowed softly and unperceived by the Spaniards into _Acapulco Harbour_. They found the _Lima_ ship moored close to the castle, and, after reconnoitring, thought it would not be in their power to bring her off; so they paddled back quietly out of the harbour, and returned to their ships, tired and disappointed. [Sidenote: Sandy Beach, West of Acapulco. Hill of Petaplan.] Westward from the Port of _Acapulco_, they passed a sandy bay or beach above twenty leagues in length, the sea all the way beating with such force on the shore that a boat could not approach with safety. 'There was clean anchoring ground at a mile or two from the shore. At the West end of this Bay, in 17° 30' N, is the Hill of _Petaplan_, which is a round point stretching out into the sea, and at a distance seems an Island[68].' This was reckoned twenty-five leagues from _Acapulco_. A little to the West of the hill are several round white rocks. They sailed within the rocks, having 11 fathoms depth, and anchored on the NW side of the hill. Their Mosquito men took here some small turtle and small jew-fish. They landed, and at an Indian village took a Mulatto woman and her children, whom they carried on board. They learnt from her that a caravan drawn by mules was going with flour and other goods to _Acapulco_, but that the carrier had stopped on the road from apprehension of the Buccaneers. [Sidenote: Chequetan.] The ships weighed their anchors, and ran about two leagues farther Westward, to a place called _Chequetan_, which Dampier thus describes: 'A mile and a half from the shore is a small Key (or Island) and within it is a very good harbour, where ships may careen: here is also a small river of fresh water, and wood enough.' [Sidenote: 14th. Estapa.] On the 14th, in the morning, about a hundred Buccaneers set off in search of the carrier, taking the woman prisoner for a guide. They landed a league to the West of _Chequetan_, at a place called _Estapa_, and their conductress led them through a wood, by the side of a river, about a league, which brought them to a savannah full of cattle; and here at a farm-house the carrier and his mules were lodged. He had 40 packs of flour, some chocolate, small cheeses, and earthenware. The eatables, with the addition of eighteen beeves which they killed, the Buccaneers laid on the backs of above fifty mules which were at hand, and drove them to their boats. A present of clothes was made to the woman, and she, with two of her children, were set at liberty; but the other child, a boy seven or eight years old, Swan kept, against the earnest intreaties of the mother. Dampier says, 'Captain Swan promised her to make much of him, and was as good as his word. He proved afterwards a fine boy for wit, courage, and dexterity.' [Sidenote: 21st. Hill of Thelupan.] They proceeded Westward along the coast, which was high land full of ragged hills, but with pleasant and fruitful vallies between. The 25th, they were abreast a hill, 'which towered above his fellows, and was divided in the top, making two small parts. It is in latitude 18° 8' N. The Spaniards mention a town called _Thelupan_ near this hill.' The 26th, the Captains Swan and Townley went in the canoes with 200 men, to seek the city of _Colima_, which was reported to be a rich place: but their search was fruitless. They rowed 20 leagues along shore, and found no good place for landing; neither did they see house or inhabitant, although they passed by a fine valley, called the _Valley of Maguella_, except that towards the end of their expedition, they saw a horseman, who they supposed had been stationed as a sentinel, for he rode off immediately on their appearance. They landed with difficulty, and followed the track of the horse on the sand, but lost it in the woods. [Sidenote: 28th. Volcano of Colima. Valley of Colima.] On the 28th, they saw the Volcano of _Colima_, which is in about 18° 36' N latitude, five or six leagues from the sea, and appears with two sharp points, from each of which issued flames or smoke. The _Valley of Colima_ is ten or twelve leagues wide by the sea: it abounds in cacao-gardens, fields of corn, and plantain walks. The coast is a sandy shore, on which the waves beat with violence. Eastward of the Valley the land is woody. A river ran here into the sea, with a shoal or bar at its entrance, which boats could not pass. On the West side of the river was savannah land. [Sidenote: December. Salagua.] December the 1st, they were near the Port of _Salagua_, which Dampier reckoned in latitude 18° 52' N. He says, 'it is only a pretty deep bay, divided in the middle with a rocky point, which makes, as it were, two harbours[69]. Ships may ride secure in either, but the West harbour is the best: the depth of water is 10 or 12 fathom, and a brook of fresh water runs into the sea there.' [Sidenote: Report of a great City named Oarrah.] Two hundred Buccaneers landed at _Salagua_, and finding a broad road which led inland, they followed it about four leagues, over a dry stony country, much overgrown with short wood, without seeing habitation or inhabitant; but in their return, they met and took prisoners two Mulattoes, who informed them that the road they had been travelling led to a great city called _Oarrah_, which was distant as far as a horse will travel in four days; and that there was no place of consequence nearer. The same prisoner said the _Manila_ ship was daily expected to stop at this part of the coast to land passengers; for that the arrival of the ships at _Acapulco_ from the _Philippines_ commonly happened about Christmas, and scarcely ever more than eight or ten days before or after. Swan and Townley sailed on for Cape _Corrientes_. Many among the crews were at this time taken ill with a fever and ague, which left the patients dropsical. Dampier says, the dropsy is a disease very common on this coast. He was one of the sufferers, and continued ill a long time; and several died of it. [Sidenote: The Land near Cape Corrientes. Coronada Hills. Cape Corrientes.] The coast Southward of _Cape Corrientes_, is of moderate height, and full of white cliffs. The inland country is high and barren, with sharp peaked hills. Northward of this rugged land, is a chain of mountains which terminates Eastward with a high steep mountain, which has three sharp peaks and resembles a crown; and is therefore called by the Spaniards _Coronada_. On the 11th they came in sight of _Cape Corrientes_. When the _Cape_ bore NbW, the _Coronada_ mountain bore ENE[70]. On arriving off _Cape Corrientes_, the buccaneer vessels spread, for the advantage of enlarging their lookout, the Cygnet taking the outer station at about ten leagues distance from the _Cape_. Provisions however soon became scarce, on which account Townley's tender and some of the canoes were sent to the land to seek a supply. The canoes rowed up along shore against a Northerly wind to the _Bay de Vanderas_; but the bark could not get round _Cape Corrientes_. [Sidenote: 18th.] On the 18th, Townley complained he wanted fresh water, whereupon the ships quitted their station near the Cape, and sailed to some small Islands called the _Keys of Chametly_, which are situated to the SE of _Cape Corrientes_, to take in fresh water. The descriptions of the coast of _New Spain_ given by Dampier, in his account of his voyage with the Buccaneers, contain many particulars of importance which are not to be found in any other publication. Dampier's manuscript and the printed Narrative frequently differ, and it is sometimes apparent that the difference is not the effect of inadvertence, or mistake in the press, but that it was intended as a correction from a reconsideration of the subject. [Sidenote: Keys or Islands of Chametly.] The printed Narrative says at this part, 'These _Keys_ or _Islands_ of _Chametly_ are about 16 or 18 leagues to the Eastward of _Cape Corrientes_. They are small, low, woody, and environed with rocks. There are five of them lying in the form of a half moon, not a mile from the shore of the main, and between them and the main land is very good riding secure from any wind[71].' In the manuscript it is said, 'the Islands _Chametly_ make a secure port. They lie eight or nine leagues from _Port Navidad_.' It is necessary to explain that Dampier, in describing his navigation along the coast of _New Spain_, uses the terms Eastward and Westward, not according to the precise meaning of the words, but to signify being more or less advanced along the coast from the _Bay of Panama_. By Westward, he invariably means more advanced towards the _Gulf of California_; by Eastward, the contrary. [Sidenote: Form a convenient Port.] The ships entered within the _Chametly Islands_ by the channel at the SE end, and anchored in five fathoms depth, on a bottom of clean sand. They found there good fresh water and wood, and caught plenty of rock-fish with hook and line. No inhabitants were seen, but there were huts, made for the temporary convenience of fishermen who occasionally went there to fish for the inhabitants of the city of _La Purificacion_. These Islands, forming a commodious port affording fresh water and other conveniencies, from the smallness of their size are not made visible in the Spanish charts of the coast of _New Spain_ in present use[72]. Whilst the ships watered at the _Keys_ or _Isles of Chametly_, a party was sent to forage on the main land, whence they carried off about 40 bushels of maize. On the 22d, they left the _Keys of Chametly_, and returned to their cruising station off _Cape Corrientes_, where they were rejoined by the canoes which had been to the _Bay de Vanderas_. Thirty-seven men had landed there from the canoes, who went three miles into the country, where they encountered a body of Spaniards, consisting both of horse and foot. The Buccaneers took benefit of a small wood for shelter against the attack of the horse, yet the Spaniards rode in among them; but the Spanish Captain and some of their foremost men being killed, the rest retreated. Four of the Buccaneers were killed, and two desperately wounded. The Spanish infantry were more numerous than the horse, but they did not join in the attack, because they were armed only with lances and swords; 'nevertheless,' says Dampier, 'if they had come in, they would certainly have destroyed all our men.' The Buccaneers conveyed their two wounded men to the water side on horses, one of which, when they arrived at their canoes, they killed and drest; not daring to venture into the savannah for a bullock, though they saw many grazing. [Sidenote: 1686. January. Bay de Vanderas.] Swan and Townley preserved their station off _Cape Corrientes_ only till the 1st of January, 1686, when their crews became impatient for fresh meat, and they stood into the _Bay de Vanderas_, to hunt for beef. The depth of water in this Bay is very great, and the ships were obliged to anchor in 60 fathoms. [Sidenote: Valley of Vanderas.] 'The _Valley of Vanderas_ is about three leagues wide, with a sandy bay against the sea, and smooth landing. In the midst of this bay (or beach) is a fine river, into which boats may enter; but it is brackish at the latter part of the dry season, which is in March, and part of April. The Valley is enriched with fruitful savannahs, mixed with groves of trees fit for any use; and fruit-trees grow wild in such plenty as if nature designed this place only for a garden. The savannahs are full of fat bulls and cows, and horses; but no house was in sight.' Here they remained hunting beeves, till the 7th of the month. Two hundred and forty men landed every day, sixty of whom were stationed as a guard, whilst the rest pursued the cattle; the Spaniards all the time appearing in large companies on the nearest hills. The Buccaneers killed and salted meat sufficient to serve them two months, which expended all their salt. Whilst they were thus occupied in the pleasant valley of _Vanderas_, the galeon from _Manila_ sailed past _Cape Corrientes_, and pursued her course in safety to _Acapulco_. This they learnt afterwards from prisoners; but it was by no means unexpected: on the contrary, they were in general so fully persuaded it would be the consequence of their going into the _Bay de Vanderas_, that they gave up all intention of cruising for her afterwards. [Sidenote: Swan and Townley part company.] The main object for which Townley had gone thus far Northward being disposed of, he and his crew resolved to return Southward. Some Darien Indians had remained to this time with Swan: they were now committed to the care of Townley, and the two ships broke off consortship, and parted company. CHAP. XIX. _The =Cygnet= and her Crew on the Coast of =Nueva Galicia=, and at the =Tres Marias Islands=._ [Sidenote: 1686. January. Coast of Nuevo Galicia.] Swan and his crew determined before they quitted the American coast, to visit some Spanish towns farther North, in the neighbourhood of rich mines, where they hoped to find good plunder, and to increase their stock of provisions for the passage across the _Pacific_ to _India_. [Sidenote: Point Ponteque.] January the 7th, the Cygnet and her tender sailed from the _Valley of Vanderas_, and before night, passed _Point Ponteque_, the Northern point of the _Vanderas Bay_. _Point Ponteque_ is high, round, rocky, and barren: at a distance it makes like an Island. Dampier reckoned it 10 leagues distant, in a direction N 20° W, from _Cape Corrientes_; the variation of the compass observed near the _Cape_ being 4° 28' Easterly[73]. A league West from _Point Ponteque_ are two small barren Islands, round which lie scattered several high, sharp, white rocks. The Cygnet passed on the East side of the two Islands, the channel between them and _Point Ponteque_ appearing clear of danger. 'The sea-coast beyond _Point Ponteque_ runs in NE, all ragged land, and afterwards out again NNW, making many ragged points, with small sandy bays between. The land by the sea is low and woody; but the inland country is full of high, sharp, rugged, and barren hills.' Along this coast they had light sea and land breezes, and fair weather. They anchored every evening, and got under sail in the morning with the land-wind. [Sidenote: January 14th. White Rock, 21° 51' N.] On the 14th, they had sight of a small white rock, which had resemblance to a ship under sail. Dampier gives its latitude 21° 51' N, and its distance from _Cape Corrientes_ 34 leagues. It is three leagues from the main, with depth in the channel, near the Island, twelve or fourteen fathoms. [Sidenote: 15th. 16th.] The 15th, at noon, the latitude was 22° 11' N. The coast here lay in a NNW direction. The 16th, they steered 'NNW as the land runs.' At noon the latitude was 22° 41' N. The coast was sandy and shelving, with soundings at six fathoms depth a league distant. The sea set heavy on the shore. They caught here many cat-fish. [Sidenote: 20th. Chametlan Isles, 23° 11' N.] On the 20th, they anchored a league to the East of a small groupe of Isles, named the _Chametlan Isles_, after the name of the District or Captainship (_Alcaldia mayor_) in the province of _Culiacan_, opposite to which they are situated. Dampier calls them the _Isles of Chametly_, 'different from the _Isles_ or _Keys of Chametly_ at which we had before anchored. These are six small Islands in latitude 23° 11' N, about three leagues distant from the main-land[74], where a salt lake has its outlet into the sea. Their meridian distance from _Cape Corrientes_ is 23 leagues [West.] The coast here, and for about ten leagues before coming abreast these Islands, lies NW and SE.' [Sidenote: The Penguin Fruit.] On the _Chametlan Isles_ they found guanoes, and seals; and a fruit of a sharp pleasant taste, by Dampier called the Penguin fruit, 'of a kind which grows so abundantly in the _Bay of Campeachy_ that there is no passing for their high prickly leaves.' [Sidenote: Rio de Sal, and Salt-water Lagune, 23° 30' N.] In the main-land, six or seven leagues NNW from the _Isles of Chametlan_, is a narrow opening into a _lagune_, with depth of water sufficient for boats to enter. This _lagune_ extends along the back of the sea-beach about 12 leagues, and makes many low Mangrove Islands. The latitude given of the entrance above-mentioned is 23° 30' N, and it is called by the Spaniards _Rio de Sal_. Half a degree Northward of _Rio de Sal_ was said to be the River _Culiacan_, with a rich Spanish town of the same name. Swan went with the canoes in search of it, and followed the coast 30 leagues from abreast the _Chametlan Isles_, without finding any river to the North of the _Rio de Sal_. All the coast was low and sandy, and the sea beat high on the shore. [Sidenote: 30th.] The ships did not go farther within the _Gulf_ than to 23° 45' N, in which latitude, on the 30th, they anchored in eight fathoms depth, three miles distant from the main-land; the meridian distance from _Cape Corrientes_ being 34 leagues West, by Dampier's reckoning. [Sidenote: The Mexican, a copious Language.] In their return Southward, Swan with the canoes, entered the _Rio de Sal Lagune_, and at an _estancian_ on the Western side, they took the owner prisoner. They found in his house a few bushels of maize; but the cattle had been driven out of their reach. Dampier relates, 'The old Spanish gentleman who was taken at the _Estancian_ near the _Rio de Sal_ was a very intelligent person. He had been a great traveller in the kingdom of _Mexico_, and spoke the Mexican language very well. He said it is a copious language, and much esteemed by the Spanish gentry in those parts, and of great use all over the kingdom; and that many Indian languages had some dependency on it.' [Sidenote: Mazatlan.] The town of _Mazatlan_ was within 5 leagues of the NE part of the _lagune_, and Swan with 150 men went thither. The inhabitants wounded some of the Buccaneers with arrows, but could make no effectual resistance. There were rich mines near _Mazatlan_, and the Spaniards of _Compostella_, which is the chief town in this district, kept slaves at work in them. The Buccaneers however found no gold here, but carried off some Indian corn. [Sidenote: February 2d. Rosario, an Indian Town.] February the 2d, the canoes went to an Indian town called _Rosario_, situated on the banks of a river and nine miles within its entrance. '_Rosario_ was a fine little town of 60 or 70 houses, with a good church.' The river produced gold, and mines were in the neighbourhood; but here, as at _Mazatlan_, they got no other booty than Indian corn, of which they conveyed to their ships between 80 and 90 bushels. [Sidenote: 3d. River Rosario, 22° 51' N. Sugar-loaf Hill. Caput Cavalli.] On the 3d, the ships anchored near the _River Rosario_ in seven fathoms oozy ground, a league from the shore; the latitude of the entrance of the river 22° 51' N. A small distance within the coast and bearing NEbN from the ship, was a round hill like a sugar-loaf; and North Westward of that hill, was another 'pretty long hill,' called _Caput Cavalli_, or the _Horse's Head_. [Sidenote: 8th.] On the 8th, the canoes were sent to search for a river named the _Oleta_, which was understood to lie in latitude 22° 27' N; but the weather proving foggy they could not find it. [Sidenote: 11th. Maxentelbo Rock. Hill of Xalisco.] On the 11th, they anchored abreast the South point of the entrance of a river called the _River de Santiago_, in seven fathoms soft oozy bottom, about two miles from the shore; a high white rock, called _Maxentelbo_, bore from their anchorage WNW, distant about three leagues, and a high hill in the country, with a saddle or bending, called the _Hill Xalisco_, bore SE. [Sidenote: River of Santiago, 22° 15' N.] 'The _River St. Iago_ is in latitude 22° 15' N, the entrance lies East and West with the _Rock Maxentelbo_. It is one of the principal rivers on this coast: there is ten feet water on the bar at low-water; but how much the tide rises and falls, was not observed. The mouth of the river is nearly half a mile broad, with very smooth entering. Within the entrance it widens, for three or four rivers meet there, and issue all out together. The water is brackish a great way up; but fresh water is to be had by digging two or three feet deep in a sandy bay just at the mouth of the river. Northward of the entrance, and NEbE from _Maxentelbo_, is a round white rock.' 'Between the latitudes 22° 41' and 22° 10' N, which includes the _River de Santiago_, the coast lies NNW and SSE[75].' No inhabitants were seen near the entrance of the _River St. Iago_, but the country had a fruitful appearance, and Swan sent seventy men in four canoes up the river, to seek for some town or village. After two days spent in examining different creeks and rivers, they came to a field of maize which was nearly ripe, and immediately began to gather; but whilst they were loading the canoes, they saw an Indian, whom they caught, and from him they learnt that at four leagues distance from them was a town named _S^{ta} Pecaque_. With this information they returned to the ship; and the same evening, Swan with eight canoes and 140 men, set off for _S^{ta} Pecaque_, taking the Indian for a guide. This was on the 15th of the month. [Sidenote: 16th.] They rowed during the night about five leagues up the river, and at six o'clock in the morning, landed at a place where it was about a pistol-shot wide, with pretty high banks on each side, the country plain and even. Twenty men were left with the canoes, and Swan with the rest marched towards the town, by a road which led partly through woodland, and partly through savannas well stocked with cattle. They arrived at the town by ten in the forenoon, and entered without opposition, the inhabitants having quitted it on their approach. [Sidenote: Town of S^{ta} Pecaque.] The town of _Santa Pecaque_ was small, regularly built after the Spanish mode, with a Parade in the middle, and balconies to the houses which fronted the parade. It had two churches. The inhabitants were mostly Spaniards, and their principal occupation was husbandry. It is distant from _Compostella_ about 21 leagues. _Compostella_ itself was at that time reckoned not to contain more than seventy white families, which made about one-eighth part of its inhabitants. There were large storehouses, with maize, salt-fish, salt, and sugar, at _Santa Pecaque_, provisions being kept there for the subsistence of some hundreds of slaves who worked in silver mines not far distant. The chief purpose for which the Cygnet had come so far North on this coast was to get provisions, and here was more than sufficient to supply her wants. For transporting it to their canoes, Swan divided the men into two parties, which it was agreed should go alternately, one party constantly to remain to guard the stores in the town. The afternoon of the first day was passed in taking rest and refreshment, and in collecting horses. [Sidenote: 17th.] The next morning, fifty-seven men, with a number of horses laden with maize, each man also carrying a small quantity, set out for the canoes, to which they arrived, and safely deposited their burthens. The Spaniards had given some disturbance to the men who guarded the canoes, and had wounded one, on which account they were reinforced with seven men from the carrying party; and in the afternoon, the fifty returned to _Santa Pecaque_. Only one trip was made in the course of the day. [Sidenote: 18th.] On the morning of the 18th, the party which had guarded the town the day before, took their turn for carrying. They loaded 24 horses, and every man had his burthen. This day they took a prisoner, who told them, that nearly a thousand men, of all colours, Spaniards, Indians, Negroes, and Mulattoes, were assembled at the town of _Santiago_, which was only three leagues distant from _Santa Pecaque_. This information made Captain Swan of opinion, that separating his men was attended with much danger; and he determined that the next morning he would quit the town with the whole party. In the mean time he employed his men to catch as many horses as they could, that when they departed they might carry off a good load. [Sidenote: February 19th.] On the 19th, Swan called his men out early, and gave order to prepare for marching; but the greater number refused to alter the mode they had first adopted, and said they would not abandon the town until all the provision in it was conveyed to the canoes. Swan was forced to acquiesce, and to allow one-half of the company to go as before. They had fifty-four horses laden; Swan advised them to tie the horses one to another, and the men to keep in two bodies, twenty-five before, and the same number behind. His directions however were not followed: 'the men would go their own way, every man leading his horse.' The Spaniards had before observed their careless manner of marching, and had prepared their plan of attack for this morning, making choice of the ground they thought most for their advantage, and placing men there in ambush. The Buccaneer convoy had not been gone above a quarter of an hour when those who kept guard in the town, heard the report of guns. Captain Swan called on them to march out to the assistance of their companions; but some even then opposed him, and spoke with contempt of the danger and their enemies, till two horses, saddled, with holsters, and without riders, came galloping into the town frightened, and one had at its side a carabine newly discharged. [Sidenote: Buccaneers defeated and slain by the Spaniards.] On this additional sign that some event had taken place which it imported them to know, Swan immediately marched out of the town, and all his men followed him. When they came to the place where the engagement had happened, they beheld their companions that had gone forth from the town that morning, every man lying dead in the road, stripped, and so mangled that scarcely any one could be known. This was the most severe defeat the Buccaneers suffered in all their _South Sea_ enterprises. The party living very little exceeded the number of those who lay dead before them, yet the Spaniards made no endeavour to interrupt their retreat, either in their march to the canoes, or in their falling down the river, but kept at a distance. 'It is probable,' says Dampier, 'the Spaniards did not cut off so many of our men without loss of many of their own. We lost this day fifty-four Englishmen and nine blacks; and among the slain was my ingenious friend Mr. Ringrose, who wrote that part of the _History of the Buccaneers_ which relates to Captain Sharp. He had engaged in this voyage as supercargo of Captain Swan's ship.'--'Captain Swan had been forewarned by his astrologer of the great danger they were in; and several of the men who went in the first party had opposed the division of their force: some of them foreboded their misfortune, and heard as they lay down in the church in the night, grievous groanings which kept them from sleeping[76].' Swan and his surviving crew were discouraged from attempting any thing more on the coast of _New Galicia_, although they had laid up but a small stock of provisions. On the 21st, they sailed from the _River of St. Jago_ for the South Cape of _California_, where it was their intention to careen the ship; but the wind had settled in the NW quarter, and after struggling against it a fortnight, on the 7th of March, they anchored in a bay at the East end of the middle of the _Tres Marias Islands_, in eight fathoms clean sand. [Sidenote: March. At the Middle Island of the Tres Marias.] The next day, they took a birth within a quarter of a mile of the shore; the outer points of the bay bearing ENE and SSW. None of the _Tres Marias Islands_ were inhabited. Swan named the one at which he had anchored, _Prince George's Island_. Dampier describes them of moderate height, and the Westernmost Island to be the largest of the three. 'The soil is stony and dry, producing much of a shrubby kind of wood, troublesome to pass; but in some parts grow plenty of straight large cedars. [Sidenote: A Root used as Food.] The sea-shore is sandy, and there, a green prickly plant grows, whose leaves are much like the penguin leaf; the root is like the root of the _Sempervive_, but larger, and when baked in an oven is reckoned good to eat. The Indians of _California_ are said to have great part of their subsistence from these roots. We baked some, but none of us greatly cared for them. They taste exactly like the roots of our English Burdock boiled.' At this Island were guanoes, raccoons, rabbits, pigeons, doves, fish, turtle, and seal. They careened here, and made a division of the store of provisions, two-thirds to the Cygnet and one-third to the Tender, 'there being one hundred eaters in the ship, and fifty on board the tender.' The maize they had saved measured 120 bushels. [Sidenote: A Dropsy cured by a Sand Bath.] Dampier relates the following anecdote of himself at this place. 'I had been a long time sick of a dropsy, a distemper whereof many of our men died; so here I was laid and covered all but my head in the hot sand. I endured it near half an hour, and then was taken out. I sweated exceedingly while I was in the sand, and I believe it did me much good, for I grew well soon after.' This was the dry season, and they could not find here a sufficient supply of fresh water, which made it necessary for them to return to the Continent. Before sailing, Swan landed a number of prisoners, Spaniards and Indians, which would have been necessary on many accounts besides that of the scantiness of provisions, if it had been his design to have proceeded forthwith Westward for the _East Indies_; but as he was going again to the American coast, which was close at hand, the turning his prisoners ashore on a desolate Island, appears to have been in revenge for the disastrous defeat sustained at _S^{ta} Pecaque_, and for the Spaniards having given no quarter on that occasion. [Sidenote: Bay of Vanderas.] They sailed on the 26th, and two days after, anchored in the _Bay of Vanderas_ near the river at the bottom of the bay; but the water of this river was now brackish. Search was made along the South shore of the bay, and two or three leagues towards _Cape Corrientes_, a small brook of good fresh water was found; and good anchorage near to a small round Island which lies half a mile from the main, and about four leagues NEastward of the Cape. Just within this Island they brought the ships to anchor, in 25 fathoms depth, the brook bearing from them E-1/2N half a mile distant, and _Point Ponteque_ NWbN six leagues. The Mosquito men struck here nine or ten jew-fish, the heads and finny pieces of which served for present consumption, and the rest was salted for sea-store. The maize and salted fish composed the whole of their stock of eatables for their passage across the _Pacific_, and at a very straitened allowance would scarcely be sufficient to hold out sixty days. CHAP. XX. _The =Cygnet=. Her Passage across the =Pacific Ocean=. At the =Ladrones=. At =Mindanao=._ [Sidenote: 1686. March. The Cygnet quits the American Coast.] March the 31st, they sailed from the American coast, steering at first SW, and afterwards more Westerly till they were in latitude 13° N, in which parallel they kept. 'The kettle was boiled but once a day,' says Dampier, 'and there was no occasion to call the men to victuals. All hands came up to see the Quarter-master share it, and he had need to be exact. We had two dogs and two cats on board, and they likewise had a small allowance given them, and they waited with as much eagerness to see it shared as we did.' [Sidenote: Large flight of Birds. Lat. 13° N. Long. 180°.] In this passage they saw neither fish nor fowl of any kind, except at one time, when by Dampier's reckoning they were 4975 miles West from _Cape Corrientes_, and then, numbers of the sea-birds called boobies were flying near the ships, which were supposed to come from some rocks not far distant. Their longitude at this time may be estimated at about 180 degrees from the meridian of Greenwich[77]. [Sidenote: May 21st.] Fortunately, they had a fresh trade-wind, and made great runs every day. 'On May the 20th, which,' says Dampier, 'we begin to call the 21st, we were in latitude 12° 50' N, and steering West. [Sidenote: Shoals and Breakers SbW-1/2W 10 or 11 leagues from the S end of Guahan. Bank de Santa Rosa.] At two p. m. the bark tender being two leagues ahead of the Cygnet, came into shoal water, and those on board plainly saw rocks under her, but no land was in sight. They hauled on a wind to the Southward, and hove the lead, and found but four fathoms water. They saw breakers to the Westward. They then wore round, and got their starboard tacks on board and stood Northward. The Cygnet in getting up to the bark, ran over a shoal bank, where the bottom was seen, and fish among the rocks; but the ship ran past it before we could heave the lead. Both vessels stood to the Northward, keeping upon a wind, and sailed directly North, having the wind at ENE, till five in the afternoon, having at that time run eight miles and increased our latitude so many minutes. We then saw the Island _Guam_ [_Guahan_] bearing NNE, distant from us about eight leagues, which gives the latitude of the Island (its South end) 13° 20' N. We did not observe the variation of the compass at _Guam_. At _Cape Corrientes_ we found it 4° 28' Easterly, and an observation we made when we had gone about a third of the passage, shewed it to be the same. I am inclined to think it was less at _Guam_[78].' The shoal above mentioned is called by the Spaniards the _Banco de Santa Rosa_, and the part over which the Cygnet passed, according to the extract from Dampier, is about SbW-1/2W from the South end of _Guahan_, distant ten or eleven leagues. [Sidenote: At Guahan.] An hour before midnight, they anchored on the West side of _Guahan_, a mile from the shore. The Spaniards had here a small Fort, and a garrison of thirty soldiers; but the Spanish Governor resided at another part of the Island. As the ships anchored, a Spanish priest in a canoe went on board, believing them to be Spaniards from _Acapulco_. He was treated with civility, but detained as a kind of hostage, to facilitate any negociation necessary for obtaining provisions; and Swan sent a present to the Spanish Governor by the Indians of the canoe. No difficulty was experienced on this head. Both Spaniards, and the few natives seen here, were glad to dispose of their provisions to so good a market as the buccaneer ships. Dampier conjectured the number of the natives at this time on _Guahan_ not to exceed a hundred. In the last insurrection, which was a short time before Eaton stopped at the _Ladrones_, the natives, finding they could not prevail against the Spaniards, destroyed their plantations, and went to other Islands. 'Those of the natives who remained in _Guahan_,' says Dampier, 'if they were not actually concerned in that broil, their hearts were bent against the Spaniards; for they offered to carry us to the Fort and assist us to conquer the Island.' Whilst Swan lay at _Guahan_, the Spanish Acapulco ship came in sight of the Island. The Governor immediately sent off notice to her of the Buccaneer ships being in the road, on which she altered her course towards the South, and by so doing got among the shoals, where she struck off her rudder, and did not get clear for three days. The natives at _Guahan_ told the Buccaneers that the Acapulco ship was in sight of the Island, 'which,' says Dampier, 'put our men in a great heat to go out after her, but Captain Swan persuaded them out of that humour.' [Sidenote: Flying Proe, or Sailing Canoe.] Dampier praises the ingenuity of the natives of the _Ladrone Islands_, and particularly in the construction of their sailing canoes, or, as they are sometimes called, their flying proes, of which he has given the following description. 'Their Proe or Sailing Canoe is sharp at both ends; the bottom is of one piece of good substance neatly hollowed, and is about 28 feet long; the under, or keel part is made round, but inclining to a wedge; the upper part is almost flat, having a very gentle hollow, and is about a foot broad: from hence, both sides of the boat are carried up to about five feet high with narrow plank, and each end of the boat turns up round very prettily. But what is very singular, one side of the boat is made perpendicular like a wall, while the other side is rounding as other vessels are, with a pretty full belly. The dried husks of the cocoa-nuts serve for oakum. At the middle of the vessel the breadth aloft is four or five feet, or more, according to the length of the boat. The mast stands exactly in the middle, with a long yard that peeps up and down like a ship's mizen yard; one end of it reaches down to the head of the boat, where it is placed in a notch made purposely to keep it fast: the other end hangs over the stern. To this yard the sail is fastened, and at the foot of the sail is another small yard to keep the sail out square, or to roll the sail upon when it blows hard; for it serves instead of a reef to take up the sail to what degree they please. Along the belly side of the boat, parallel with it, at about seven feet distance, lies another boat or canoe very small, being a log of very light wood, almost as long as the great boat, but not above a foot and a half wide at the upper part, and sharp like a wedge at each end. The little boat is fixed firm to the other by two bamboos placed across the great boat, one near each end, and its use is to keep the great boat upright from oversetting. They keep the flat side of the great boat against the wind, and the belly side, consequently, with its little boat, is upon the lee[79]. The vessel has a head at each end so as to be able to sail with either foremost: they need not tack as our vessels do, but when they ply to windward and are minded to make a board the other way, they only alter the setting of the sail by shifting the end of the yard, and they take the broad paddle with which they steer instead of a rudder, to the other end of the vessel. I have been particular in describing these their sailing canoes, because I believe they sail the best of any boats in the world. I tried the swiftness of one of them with our log: we had twelve knots on our reel, and she ran it all out before the half-minute glass was half out. I believe she would run 24 miles in an hour. It was very pleasant to see the little boat running so swift by the other's side. I was told that one of these proes being sent express from _Guahan_ to _Manila_, [a distance above 480 leagues] performed the voyage in four days.' [Sidenote: Bread Fruit.] Dampier has described the Bread-fruit, which is among the productions of the _Ladrone Islands_. He had never seen nor heard of it any where but at these Islands. Provisions were obtained in such plenty at _Guahan_, that in the two vessels they salted above fifty hogs for sea use. The friar was released, with presents in return for his good offices, and to compensate for his confinement. [Sidenote: June.] June the 2d, they sailed from _Guahan_ for the Island _Mindanao_. The weather was uncertain: 'the Westerly winds were not as yet in strength, and the Easterly winds commonly over-mastered them and brought the ships on their way to _Mindanao_.' [Sidenote: Eastern side of Mindanao, and the Island St. John.] There is much difference between the manuscript Journal of Dampier and the published Narrative, concerning the geography of the East side of _Mindanao_. The Manuscript says, 'We arrived off _Mindanao_ the 21st day of June; but being come in with the land, knew not what part of the Island the city was in, therefore we run down to the Northward, between _Mindanao_ and _St. John_, and came to an anchor in a bay which lieth in six degrees North latitude.' In the printed Narrative it is said, 'The 21st day of June, we arrived at the _Island St. John_, which is on the East side of _Mindanao_, and distant from it 3 or 4 leagues. It is in latitude about 7° or 8° North. This Island is in length about 38 leagues, stretching NNW and SSE, and is in breadth about 24 leagues in the middle of the Island. The Northernmost end is broader, and the Southern narrower. This Island is of good height, and is full of small hills. The land at the SE end (where I was ashore) is of a black fat mould; and the whole Island seems to partake of the same, by the vast number of large trees that it produceth, for it looks all over like one great grove. As we were passing by the SE end, we saw a canoe of the natives under the shore, and one of our boats went after to have spoken with her, but she ran to the shore, and the people leaving her, fled to the woods. We saw no more people here, nor sign of inhabitant at this end. When we came aboard our ship again, we steered away for the Island _Mindanao_, which was fair in sight of us, it being about 10 leagues distant from this part of _St. John's_. The 22d day, we came within a league of the East side of _Mindanao_, and having the wind at SE, we steered towards the North end, keeping on the East side till we came into the latitude of 7° 40' N, and there we anchored in a small bay, a mile from the shore, in 10 fathoms, rocky foul ground; _Mindanao_ being guarded on the East side by _St. John's Island_, we might as reasonably have expected to find the harbour and city on this side as any where else; but coming into the latitude in which we judged the city might be, we found no canoes or people that indicated a city or place of trade being near at hand, though we coasted within a league of the shore[80].' This difference between the manuscript and printed Journal cannot well be accounted for. The most remarkable particular of disagreement is in the latitude of the bay wherein they anchored. At this bay they had communication with the inhabitants, and learnt that the _Mindanao City_ was to the Westward. They could not prevail on any Mindanao man to pilot them; the next day, however, they weighed anchor, and sailed back Southward, till they came to a part they supposed to be the SE end of _Mindanao_, and saw two small Islands about three leagues distant from it. [Sidenote: Sarangan and Candigar.] There is reason to believe that the two small Islands here noticed were _Sarangan_ and _Candigar_; according to which, Dampier's _Island St. John_ will be the land named _Cape San Augustin_ in the present charts. And hence arises a doubt whether the land of _Cape San Augustin_ is not an Island separate from _Mindanao_. Dampier's navigation between them does not appear to have been far enough to the Northward to ascertain whether he was in a Strait or a Gulf. [Sidenote: July. Harbour or Sound on the South Coast of Mindanao.] The wind blew constant and fresh from the Westward, and it took them till the 4th of July to get into a harbour or sound a few leagues to the NW from the two small Islands. This harbour or sound ran deep into the land; at the entrance it is only two miles across, but within it is three leagues wide, with seven fathoms depth, and there is good depth for shipping four or five leagues up, but with some rocky foul ground. On the East side of this Bay are small rivers and brooks of fresh water. The country on the West side was uncultivated land, woody, and well stocked with wild deer, which had been used to live there unmolested, no people inhabiting on that side of the bay. Near the shore was a border of savanna or meadow land which abounded in long grass. Dampier says, 'the adjacent woods are a covert for the deer in the heat of the day; but mornings and evenings they feed in the open plains, as thick as in our parks in England. I never saw any where such plenty of wild deer. We found no hindrance to our killing as many as we pleased, and the crews of both the ships were fed with venison all the time we remained here.' They quitted this commodious Port on the 12th; the weather had become moderate, and they proceeded Westward for the River and City of _Mindanao_. The Southern part of the Island appeared better peopled than the Eastern part; they passed many fishing boats, 'and now and then a small village.' [Sidenote: River of Mindanao.] On the 18th, they anchored before the _River of Mindanao_, in 15 fathoms depth, the bottom hard sand, about two miles distant from the shore, and three or four miles from a small Island which was without them to the Southward. The river is small, and had not more than ten or eleven feet depth over the bar at spring tides. Dampier gives the latitude of the entrance 6° 22' N. [Sidenote: City of Mindanao.] The buccaneer ships on anchoring saluted with seven guns, under English colours, and the salute was returned with three guns from the shore. 'The City of _Mindanao_ is about two miles from the sea. It is a mile long, of no great breadth, winding with the banks of the river, on the right hand going up, yet it has many houses on the opposite side of the river.' The houses were built upon posts, and at this time, as also during a great part of the succeeding month, the weather was rainy, and 'the city seemed to stand as in a pond, so that there was no passing from one house to another but in canoes.' The Island _Mindanao_ was divided into a number of small states. The port at which the Cygnet and her tender now anchored, with a large district of country adjacent, was under the dominion of a Sultan or Prince, who appears to have been one of the most powerful in the Island. The Spaniards had not established their dominion over all the _Philippine Islands_, and the inhabitants of this place were more apprehensive of the Hollanders than of any other Europeans; and on that account expressed some discontent when they understood the Cygnet was not come for the purpose of making a settlement. On the afternoon of their arrival, Swan sent an officer with a present to the Sultan, consisting of scarlet cloth, gold lace, a scymitar, and a pair of pistols; and likewise a present to another great man who was called the General, of scarlet cloth and three yards of silver lace. The next day, Captain Swan went on shore and was admitted to an audience in form. The Sultan shewed him two letters from English merchants, expressing their wishes to establish a factory at _Mindanao_, to do which he said the English should be welcome. A few days after this audience, the Cygnet and tender went into the river, the former being lightened first to get her over the bar. Here, similar to the custom in the ports of _China_, an officer belonging to the Sultan went on board and measured the ships. Voyagers or travellers who visit strange countries, generally find, or think, it necessary to be wary and circumspect: mercantile voyagers are on the watch for occasions of profit, and the inquisitiveness of men of observation will be regarded with suspicion; all which, however familiarity of manners may be assumed, keeps cordiality at a distance, and causes them to continue strangers. The present visitors were differently circumstanced and of different character: their pursuits at _Mindanao_ were neither to profit by trade nor to make observation. Long confined with pockets full of money which they were impatient to exchange for enjoyment, with minds little troubled by considerations of economy, they at once entered into familiar intercourse with the natives, who were gained almost as much by the freedom of their manners as by their presents, and with whom they immediately became intimates and inmates. The same happened to Drake and his companions, when, returning enriched with spoil from the _South Sea_, they stopped at the Island _Java_; and we read no instance of Europeans arriving at such sociable and friendly intercourse with any of the natives of _India_, as they became with the people of _Java_ during the short time they remained there, except in the similarly circumstanced, instance of the crew of the Cygnet among the Mindanayans. By the length of their stay at _Mindanao_, Dampier was enabled to enter largely into descriptions of the natives, and of the country, and he has related many entertaining particulars concerning them. Those only in which the Buccaneers were interested will be noticed here. The Buccaneers were at first prodigal in their gifts. When any of them went on shore, they were welcomed and invited to the houses, and were courted to form particular attachments. Among many nations of the East a custom has been found to prevail, according to which, a stranger is expected to choose some individual native to be his friend or comrade; and a connexion so formed, and confirmed with presents, is regarded, if not as sacred, with such high respect, that it is held most dishonourable to break it. The visitor is at all times afterwards welcome to his comrade's house. The _tayoship_, with the ceremony of exchanging names, among the South Sea islanders, is a bond of fellowship of the same nature. The people of _Mindanao_ enlarged and refined upon this custom, and allowed to the stranger a _pagally_, or platonic friend of the other sex. The wives of the richest men may be chosen, and she is permitted to converse with her pagally in public. 'In a short time,' says Dampier, 'several of our men, such as had good clothes and store of gold, had a comrade or two, and as many pagallies.' Some of the crew hired, and some purchased, houses, in which they lived with their comrades and pagallies, and with a train of servants, as long as their means held out. 'Many of our Squires,' continues Dampier, 'were in no long time eased of the trouble of counting their money. This created a division of the crew into two parties, that is to say, of those who had money, and those who had none. As the latter party increased, they became dissatisfied and unruly for want of action, and continually urged the Captain to go to sea; which not being speedily complied with, they sold the ship's stores and the merchants' goods to procure arrack.' Those whose money held out, were not without their troubles. The Mindanayans were a people deadly in their resentments. Whilst the Cygnet lay at _Mindanao_, sixteen Buccaneers were buried, most of whom, Dampier says, died by poison. 'The people of _Mindanao_ are expert at poisoning, and will do it upon small occasions. Nor did our men want for giving offence either by rogueries, or by familiarities with their women, even before their husbands' faces. They have poisons which are slow and lingering; for some who were poisoned at _Mindanao_, did not die till many months after.' Towards the end of the year they began to make preparation for sailing. It was then discovered that the bottom of the tender was eaten through by worms in such a manner that she would scarcely swim longer in port, and could not possibly be made fit for sea. The Cygnet was protected by a sheathing which covered her bottom, the worms not being able to penetrate farther than to the hair which was between the sheathing and the main plank. [Sidenote: January, 1687.] In the beginning of January (1687), the Cygnet was removed to without the bar of the river. Whilst she lay there, and when Captain Swan was on shore, his Journal was accidentally left out, and thereby liable to the inspection of the crew, some of whom had the curiosity to look in it, and found there the misconduct of several individuals on board, noted down in a manner that seemed to threaten an after-reckoning. This discovery increased the discontents against Swan to such a degree, that when he heard of it he did not dare to trust himself on board, and the discontented party took advantage of his absence and got the ship under sail. Captain Swan sent on board Mr. Harthope, one of the Supercargoes, to see if he could effect a reconciliation. The principal mutineers shewed to Mr. Harthope the Captain's Journal, 'and repeated to him all his ill actions, and they desired that he would take the command of the ship; but he refused, and desired them to tarry a little longer whilst he went on shore and communed with the Captain, and he did not question but all differences would be reconciled. They said they would wait till two o'clock; but at four o'clock, Mr. Harthope not having returned, and no boat being seen coming from the shore, they made sail and put to sea with the ship, leaving their Commander and 36 of the crew at _Mindanao_.' Dampier was among those who went in the ship; but he disclaims having had any share in the mutiny. CHAP. XXI. _The =Cygnet= departs from =Mindanao=. At the =Ponghou Isles=. At the =Five Islands=. =Dampier's= Account of the =Five Islands=. They are named the =Bashee Islands=._ [Sidenote: 1687. January. South Coast of Mindanao.] It was on the 14th of January the Cygnet sailed from before the _River Mindanao_. The crew chose one John Reed, a Jamaica man, for their Captain. They steered Westward along the coast of the South side of the Island, 'which here tends WbS, the land of a good height, with high hills in the country.' The 15th, they were abreast a town named _Chambongo_ [in the charts _Samboangan_] which Dampier reckoned to be 30 leagues distant from the _River of Mindanao_. The Spaniards had formerly a fort there, and it is said to be a good harbour. 'At the distance of two or three leagues from the coast, are many small low Islands or Keys; and two or three leagues to the Southward of these Keys is a long Island stretching NE and SW about twelve leagues[81].' [Sidenote: Among the Philippine Islands.] When they were past the SW part of _Mindanao_, they sailed Northward towards _Manila_, plundering the country vessels that came in their way. What was seen here of the coasts is noticed slightly and with uncertainty. They met two Mindanao vessels laden with silks and calicoes; and near _Manila_ they took some Spanish vessels, one of which had a cargo of rice. [Sidenote: March. Pulo Condore.] From the _Philippine Islands_ they went to the Island _Pulo Condore_, where two of the men who had been poisoned at _Mindanao_, died. 'They were opened by the surgeon, in compliance with their dying request, and their livers were found black, light, and dry, like pieces of cork.' [Sidenote: In the China Seas.] From _Pulo Condore_ they went cruising to the _Gulf of Siam_, and to different parts of the _China Seas_. What their success was, Dampier did not think proper to tell, for it would not admit of being palliated under the term Buccaneering. Among their better projects and contrivances, one, which could only have been undertaken by men confident in their own seamanship and dexterity, was to search at the _Prata Island and Shoal_, for treasure which had been wrecked there, the recovery of which no one had ever before ventured to attempt. In pursuit of this scheme, they unluckily fell too far to leeward, and were unable to beat up against the wind. [Sidenote: July. Ponghou Isles. The Five Islands.] In July they went to the _Ponghou Islands_, expecting to find there a port which would be a safe retreat. On the 20th of that month, they anchored at one of the Islands, where they found a large town, and a Tartar garrison. This was not a place where they could rest with ease and security. Having the wind at SW, they again got under sail, and directed their course to look for some Islands which in the charts were laid down between _Formosa_ and _Luconia_, without any name, but marked with the figure 5 to denote their number. These Buccaneers, or rather pirates, had no other information concerning the _Five Islands_ than seeing them on the charts, and hoped to find them without inhabitants. Dampier's account of the _Five Islands_ would lose in many respects if given in any other than his own words, which therefore are here transcribed. [Sidenote: Dampier's Description of the Five Islands.] 'August the 6th, We made the _Islands_; the wind was at South, and we fetched in with the Westernmost, which is the largest, on which we saw goats, but could not get anchor-ground, therefore we stood over to others about three leagues from this, and the next forenoon anchored in a small Bay on the East side of the Easternmost Island in fifteen fathoms, a cable's length from the shore; and before our sails were furled we had a hundred small boats aboard, with three, four, and some with six men in them. [Sidenote: August 7th.] There were three large towns on the shore within the distance of a league. Most of our people being aloft (for we had been forced to turn in close with all sail abroad, and when we anchored, furled all at once) and our deck being soon full of Indian natives, we were at first alarmed, and began to get our small-arms ready; but they were very quiet, only they picked up such old iron as they found upon our deck. At last, one of our men perceived one of them taking an iron pin out of a gun-carriage, and laid hold of him, upon which he bawled out, and the rest leaped into their boats or overboard, and they all made away for the shore. But when we perceived their fright, we made much of him we had in hold, and gave him a small piece of iron, with which we let him go, and he immediately leaped overboard and swam to his consorts, who hovered near the ship to see the issue. Some of the boats came presently aboard again, and they were always afterward very honest and civil. We presently after this, sent our canoe on shore, and they made the crew welcome with a drink they call Bashee, and they sold us some hogs. We bought a fat goat for an old iron hoop, a hog of 70 or 80 _lbs._ weight for two or three pounds of iron, and their bashee drink and roots for old nails or bullets. Their hogs were very sweet, but many were meazled. We filled fresh water here at a curious brook close by the ship. 'We lay here till the 12th, when we weighed to seek for a better anchoring place. We plied to windward, and passed between the South end of this Island and the North end of another Island South of this. These Islands were both full of inhabitants, but there was no good riding. We stopped a tide under the Southern Island. The tide runs there very strong, the flood to the North, and it rises and falls eight feet. It was the 15th day of the month before we found a place we might anchor at and careen, which was at another Island not so big as either of the former. [Illustration: Map of the BASHEE Islands.] 'We anchored near the North East part of this smaller Island, against a small sandy bay, in seven fathoms clean hard sand, a quarter of a mile from the shore. We presently set up a tent on shore, and every day some of us went to the towns of the natives, and were kindly entertained by them. Their boats also came on board to traffic with us every day; so that besides provision for present use, we bought and salted 70 or 80 good fat hogs, and laid up a good stock of potatoes and yams. [Sidenote: Names given to the Islands. Orange Island.] 'These Islands lie in 20° 20' N.[82] As they are laid down in the charts marked only with a figure of 5, we gave them what names we pleased. The Dutchmen who were among us named the Westernmost, which is the largest, the _Prince of Orange's Island_. It is seven or eight leagues long, about two leagues wide, and lies almost North and South. _Orange Island_ was not inhabited. It is high land, flat and even at the top, with steep cliffs against the sea; for which reason we could not go ashore there, as we did on all the rest. [Sidenote: Grafton Island.] 'The Island where we first anchored, we called the _Duke of Grafton's Isle_, having married my wife out of his Dutchess's family, and leaving her at Arlington House at my going abroad. _Grafton Isle_ is about four leagues long, stretching North and South, and one and a half wide. [Sidenote: Monmouth Island.] 'The other great Island our seamen called the _Duke of Monmouth's Island_. It is about three leagues long, and a league wide. [Sidenote: Goat Island. Bashee Island. The Drink called Bashee.] 'The two smaller Islands, which lie between _Monmouth_, and the South end of _Orange Island_; the Westernmost, which is the smallest, we called _Goat Island_, from the number of goats we saw there. The Easternmost, at which we careened, our men unanimously called _Bashee Island_, because of the plentiful quantity of that liquor which we drank there every day. This drink called Bashee, the natives make with the juice of the sugar-cane, to which they put some small black berries. It is well boiled, and then put into great jars, in which it stands three or four days to ferment. Then it settles clear, and is presently fit to drink. This is an excellent liquor, strong, and I believe wholesome, and much like our English beer both in colour and taste. Our men drank briskly of it during several weeks, and were frequently drunk with it, and never sick in consequence. [Sidenote: The whole group named the Bashee Islands.] The natives sold it to us very cheap, and from the plentiful use of it, our men called all these Islands the _Bashee Islands_. [Sidenote: Rocks or small Islands North of the Five Islands.] 'To the Northward of the Five Islands are two high rocks.' [These rocks are not inserted in Dampier's manuscript Chart, and only one of them in the published Chart; whence is to be inferred, that the other was beyond the limit of the Chart.] [Sidenote: Natives described.] 'These Islanders are short, squat, people, generally round visaged with thick eyebrows; their eyes of a hazel colour, small, yet bigger than those of the Chinese; they have short low noses, their teeth white; their hair black, thick, and lank, which they wear short: their skins are of a dark copper colour. They wear neither hat, cap, nor turban to keep off the sun. The men had a cloth about their waist, and the women wore short cotton petticoats which reached below the knee. These people had iron; but whence it came we knew not. The boats they build are much after the fashion of our Deal yawls, but smaller, and every man has a boat, which he builds himself. They have also large boats, which will carry 40 or 50 men each. 'They are neat and cleanly in their persons, and are withal the quietest and civilest people I ever met with. I could never perceive them to be angry one with another. I have admired to see 20 or 30 boats aboard our ship at a time, all quiet and endeavouring to help each other on occasion; and if cross accidents happened, they caused no noise nor appearance of distaste. When any of us came to their houses, they would entertain us with such things as their houses or plantations would afford; and if they had no bashee at home, would buy of their neighbours, and sit down and drink freely with us; yet neither then nor sober could I ever perceive them to be out of humour. 'I never observed them to worship any thing; they had no idols; neither did I perceive that one man was of greater power than another: they seemed to be all equal, only every man ruling in his own house, and children respecting and honouring their parents. Yet it is probable they have some law or custom by which they are governed; for whilst we lay here, we saw a young man buried alive in the earth, and it was for theft, as far as we could understand from them. There was a great deep hole dug, and abundance of people came to the place to take their last farewell of him. One woman particularly made great lamentations, and took off the condemned person's ear-rings. We supposed her to be his mother. After he had taken leave of her, and some others, he was put into the pit, and covered over with earth. He did not struggle, but yielded very quietly to his punishment, and they crammed the earth close upon him, and stifled him. [Sidenote: Situations of their Towns.] _Monmouth_ and _Grafton Isles_ are very hilly with steep precipices; and whether from fear of pirates, of foreign enemies, or factions among their own clans, their towns and villages are built on the most steep and inaccessible of these precipices, and on the sides of rocky hills; so that in some of their towns, three or four rows of houses stand one above another, in places so steep that they go up to the first row with a ladder, and in the same manner ascend to every street upwards. _Grafton_ and _Monmouth Islands_ are very thick set with these hills and towns. [Sidenote: Bashee Islands.] The two small Islands are flat and even, except that on _Bashee Island_ there is one steep craggy hill. The reason why _Orange Island_ has no inhabitants, though the largest and as fertile as any of these Islands, I take to be, because it is level and exposed to attack; and for the same reason, _Goat Island_, being low and even, hath no inhabitants. We saw no houses built on any open plain ground. Their houses are but small and low, the roofs about eight feet high. The vallies are well watered with brooks of fresh water. The fruits of these Islands are plantains, bananas, pine-apples, pumpkins, yams and other roots, and sugar-canes, which last they use mostly for their bashee drink. Here are plenty of goats, and hogs; and but a few fowls. They had no grain of any kind. [Sidenote: September. 26th.] 'On the 26th of September, our ship was driven to sea, by a strong gale at NbW, which made her drag her anchors. Six of the crew were on shore, who could not get on board. The weather continued stormy till the 29th. [Sidenote: October.] The 1st of October, we recovered the anchorage from which we had been driven, and immediately the natives brought on board our six seamen, who related that after the ship was out of sight, the natives were more kind to them than they had been before, and tried to persuade them to cut their hair short, as was the custom among themselves, offering to each of them if they would, a young woman to wife, a piece of land, and utensils fit for a planter. These offers were declined, but the natives were not the less kind; on which account we made them a present of three whole bars of iron.' Two days after this reciprocation of kindness, the Buccaneers bid farewell to these friendly Islanders. CHAP. XXII. _The =Cygnet=. At the =Philippines=, =Celebes=, and =Timor=. On the Coast of =New Holland=. End of the =Cygnet=._ [Sidenote: 1687. October.] From the _Bashee Islands_, the Cygnet steered at first SSW, with the wind at West, and on that course passed 'close to the Eastward of certain small Islands that lie just by the North end of the Island _Luconia_.' [Sidenote: Island near the SE end of Mindanao. Candigar.] They went on Southward by the East of the _Philippine Islands_. On the 14th, they were near a small low woody Island, which Dampier reckoned to lie East 20 leagues from the SE end of _Mindanao_. The 16th, they anchored between the small Islands _Candigar_ and _Sarangan_; but afterwards found at the NW end of the Eastern of the two Islands, a good and convenient small cove, into which they went, and careened the ship. They heard here that Captain Swan and those of the crew left with him, were still at the _City of Mindanao_. [Sidenote: December. 27th. Near the SW end of Timor.] The Cygnet and her restless crew continued wandering about the Eastern Seas, among the _Philippine Islands_, to _Celebes_, and to _Timor_. December the 27th, steering a Southerly course, they passed by the West side of _Rotte_, and by another small Island, near the SW end of _Timor_. Dampier says, 'Being now clear of all the Islands, and having the wind at West and WbN, we steered away SSW,[83] intending to touch at _New Holland_, to see what that country would afford us.' The wind blew fresh, and kept them under low sail; sometimes with only their courses set, and sometimes with reefed topsails. [Sidenote: 31st.] The 31st at noon, their latitude was 13° 20' S. About ten o'clock at night, they tacked and stood to the Northward for fear of a shoal, which their charts laid down in the track they were sailing, and in latitude 13° 50' S. [Sidenote: 1688. January. Low Island and Shoal, SbW from the West end of Timor.] At three in the morning, they tacked again and stood SbW and SSW. As soon as it was light, they perceived a low Island and shoal right ahead. This shoal, by their reckoning, is in latitude 13° 50', and lies SbW from the West end of _Timor_.[84] 'It is a small spit of sand appearing just above the water's edge, with several rocks about it eight or ten feet high above water. It lies in a triangular form, each side in extent about a league and a half. We could not weather it, so bore away round the East end, and stood again to the Southward, passing close by it and sounding, but found no ground. [Sidenote: NW Coast of New Holland.] This shoal is laid down in our drafts not above 16 or 20 leagues from _New Holland_; but we ran afterwards 60 leagues making a course due South, before we fell in with the coast of _New Holland_, which we did on January the 4th, in latitude 16° 50' S.' Dampier remarks here, that unless they were set Westward by a current, the coast of _New Holland_ must have been laid down too far Westward in the charts; but he thought it not probable that they were deceived by currents, because the tides on that part of the coast were found very regular; the flood setting towards the NE. [Sidenote: In a Bay on the NW Coast of New Holland.] The coast here was low and level, with sand-banks. The Cygnet sailed along the shore NEbE 12 leagues, when she came to a point of land, with an Island so near it that she could not pass between. A league before coming to this point, that is to say, Westward of the point, was a shoal which ran out from the main-land a league. Beyond the point, the coast ran East, and East Southerly, making a deep bay with many Islands in it. On the 5th, they anchored in this bay, about two miles from the shore, in 29 fathoms. The 6th, they ran nearer in and anchored about four miles Eastward of the point before mentioned, and a mile distant from the nearest shore, in 18 fathoms depth, the bottom clean sand. People were seen on the land, and a boat was sent to endeavour to make acquaintance with them; but the natives did not wait. Their habitations were sought for, but none were found. The soil here was dry and sandy, yet fresh water was found by digging for it. They warped the ship into a small sandy cove, at a spring tide, as far as she would float, and at low water she was high aground, the sand being dry without her half a mile; for the sea rose and fell here about five fathoms perpendicularly. During the neap tides, the ship lay wholly aground, the sea not approaching nearer than within a hundred yards of her. Turtle and manatee were struck here, as much every day as served the whole crew. Boats went from the ship to different parts of the bay in search of provisions. [Sidenote: Natives.] For a considerable time they met with no inhabitants; but at length, a party going to one of the Islands, saw there about forty natives, men, women, and children. 'The Island was too small for them to conceal themselves. The men at first made threatening motions with lances and wooden swords, but a musket was fired to scare them, and they stood still. The women snatched up their infants and ran away howling, their other children running after squeaking and bawling. Some invalids who could not get away lay by the fire making a doleful noise; but after a short time they grew sensible that no mischief was intended them, and they became quiet.' Those who had fled, soon returned, and some presents made, succeeded in rendering them familiar. Dampier relates, 'we filled some of our barrels with water at wells, which had been dug by the natives, but it being troublesome to get to our boats, we thought to have made these men help us, to which end we put on them some old ragged clothes, thinking this finery would make them willing to be employed. We then brought our new servants to the wells, and put a barrel on the shoulders of each; but all the signs we could make were to no purpose, for they stood like statues, staring at one another and grinning like so many monkies. These poor creatures seem not accustomed to carry burthens, and I believe one of our ship-boys of ten years old would carry as much as one of their men. So we were forced to carry our water ourselves, and they very fairly put off the clothes again and laid them down. They had no great liking to them at first, neither did they seem to admire any thing that we had.' 'The inhabitants of this country are the most miserable people in the world. The Hottentots compared with them are gentlemen. They have no houses, animals, or poultry. Their persons are tall, straight-bodied, thin, with long limbs: they have great heads, round foreheads, and great brows. Their eyelids are always half closed to keep the flies out of their eyes, for they are so troublesome here that no fanning will keep them from one's face, so that from their infancy they never open their eyes as other people do, and therefore they cannot see far, unless they hold up their heads as if they were looking at something over them. They have great bottle noses, full lips, wide mouths: the two fore-teeth of their upper jaw are wanting in all of them: neither have they any beards. Their hair is black, short, and curled, and their skins coal black like that of the negroes in _Guinea_. Their only food is fish, and they constantly search for them at low water, and they make little weirs or dams with stones across little coves of the sea. At one time, our boat being among the Islands seeking for game, espied a drove of these people swimming from one Island to another; for they have neither boats, canoes, nor bark-logs. We always gave them victuals when we met any of them. But after the first time of our being among them, they did not stir for our coming.' It deserves to be remarked to the credit of human nature, that these poor people, in description the most wretched of mankind in all respects, that we read of, stood their ground for the defence of their women and children, against the shock and first surprise at hearing the report of fire-arms. [Sidenote: March.] The Cygnet remained at this part of _New Holland_ till the 12th of March, and then sailed Westward, for the West coast of _Sumatra_. [Sidenote: 28th. An Island in Lat. 10° 20' S.] On the 28th, they fell in with a small woody uninhabited Island, in latitude 10° 20' S, and, by Dampier's reckoning, 12° 6' of longitude from the part of _New Holland_ at which they had been. There was too great depth of water every where round the Island for anchorage. A landing-place was found near the SW point, and on the Island a small brook of fresh water; but the surf would not admit of any to be taken off to the ship. Large craw-fish, boobies, and men-of-war birds, were caught, as many as served for a meal for the whole crew. [Sidenote: April. End of the Cygnet.] April the 7th, they made the coast of _Sumatra_. Shortly after, at the _Nicobar Islands_, Dampier and some others quitted the Cygnet. Read, the Captain, and those who yet remained with him, continued their piratical cruising in the Indian Seas, till, after a variety of adventures, and changes of commanders, they put into _Saint Augustine's_ Bay in the Island of _Madagascar_, by which time the ship was in so crazy a condition, that the crew abandoned her, and she sunk at her anchors. Some of the men embarked on board European ships, and some engaged themselves in the service of the petty princes of that Island. Dampier returned to _England_ in 1691. CHAP. XXIII. _French Buccaneers under =François Grogniet= and =Le Picard=, to the Death of =Grogniet=._ [Sidenote: The French Buccaneers, from July 1685.] Having accompanied the Cygnet to her end, the History must again be taken back to the breaking up of the general confederacy of Buccaneers which took place at the Island _Quibo_, to give a connected narrative of the proceedings of the French adventurers from that period to their quitting the _South Sea_. [Sidenote: Under Grogniet.] Three hundred and forty-one French Buccaneers (or to give them their due, privateers, war then existing between _France_ and _Spain_) separated from Edward Davis in July 1685, choosing for their leader Captain François Grogniet. They had a small ship, two small barks, and some large canoes, which were insufficient to prevent their being incommoded for want of room, and the ship was so ill provided with sails as to be disqualified for cruising at sea. They were likewise scantily furnished with provisions, and necessity for a long time confined their enterprises to the places on the coast of _New Spain_ in the neighbourhood of _Quibo_. The towns of _Pueblo Nuevo_, _Ria Lexa_, _Nicoya_, and others, were plundered by them, some more than once, by which they obtained provisions, and little of other plunder, except prisoners, from whom they extorted ransom either in provisions or money. [Sidenote: November.] In November, they attacked the town of _Ria Lexa_. Whilst in the port, a Spanish Officer delivered to them a letter from the Vicar-General of the province of _Costa Rica_, written to inform them that a truce for twenty years had been concluded between _France_ and _Spain_. The Vicar-General therefore required of them to forbear committing farther hostility, and offered to give them safe conduct over land to the _North Sea_, and a passage to _Europe_ in the galeons of his Catholic Majesty to as many as should desire it. This offer not according with the inclinations of the adventurers, they declined accepting it, and, without entering into enquiry, professed to disbelieve the intelligence. [Sidenote: Point de Burica.] November the 14th, they were near the _Point Burica_. Lussan says, 'we admired the pleasant appearance of the land, and among other things, a walk or avenue, formed by five rows of cocoa-nut trees, which extended in continuation along the coast 15 leagues, with as much regularity as if they had been planted by line.' [Sidenote: 1686. January. Chiriquita.] In the beginning of January 1686, two hundred and thirty of these Buccaneers went in canoes from _Quibo_ against _Chiriquita_, a small Spanish town on the Continent, between _Point Burica_ and the Island _Quibo_. _Chiriquita_ is situated up a navigable river, and at some distance from the sea-coast. 'Before this river are eight or ten Islands, and shoals on which the sea breaks at low water; but there are channels between them through which ships may pass[85].' The Buccaneers arrived in the night at the entrance of the river, unperceived by the Spaniards; but being without guides, and in the dark, they mistook and landed on the wrong side of the river. They were two days occupied in discovering the right way, but were so well concealed by the woods, that at daylight on the morning of the third day they came upon the town and surprised the whole of the inhabitants, who, says Lussan, had been occupied the last two days in disputing which of them should keep watch, and go the rounds. Lussan relates here, that himself and five others were decoyed to pursue a few Spaniards to a distance from the town, where they were suddenly attacked by one hundred and twenty men. He and his companions however, he says, played their parts an hour and a half '_en vrai Flibustiers_,' and laid thirty of the enemy on the ground, by which time they were relieved by the arrival of some of their friends. They set fire to the town, and got ransom for their prisoners: in what the ransom consisted, Lussan has not said. [Sidenote: At Quibo.] Their continuance in one station, at length prevailed on the Spaniards to collect and send a force against them. They had taken some pains to instil into the Spaniards a belief that they intended to erect fortifications and establish themselves at _Quibo_. Their view in this it is not easy to conjecture, unless it was to discourage their prisoners from pleading poverty; for they obliged those from whom they could not get money, to labour, and to procure bricks and materials for building to be sent for their ransom. On the 27th of January, a small fleet of Spanish vessels approached the Island _Quibo_. The buccaneer ship was without cannon, and lay near the entrance of a river which had only depth sufficient for their small vessels. The Buccaneers therefore took out of the ship all that could be of use, and ran her aground; and with their small barks and canoes took a station in the river. [Sidenote: February.] The Spaniards set fire to the abandoned ship, and remained by her to collect the iron-work; but they shewed no disposition to attack the French in the river; and on the 1st of February, they departed from the Island. The Buccaneers having lost their ship, set hard to work to build themselves small vessels. In this month of February, fourteen of their number died by sickness and accidents. [Sidenote: March.] They had projected an attack upon _Granada_ but want of present subsistence obliged them to seek supply nearer, and a detachment was sent with that view to the river of _Pueblo Nuevo_. Some vessels of the Spanish flotilla which had lately been at _Quibo_, were lying at anchor in the river, which the Flibustiers mistook for a party of the English Buccaneers. [Sidenote: Unsuccessful attempt at Pueblo Nuevo.] In this belief they went within pistol-shot, and hailed, and were then undeceived by receiving for answer a volley of musketry. They fired on the Spaniards in return, but were obliged to retreat, and in this affair they lost four men killed outright, and between 30 and 40 were wounded. Preparatory to their intended expedition against _Granada_, they agreed upon some regulations for preserving discipline and order, the principal articles of which were, that cowardice, theft, drunkenness, or disobedience, should be punished with forfeiture of all share of booty taken. On the evening of the 22d, they were near the entrance of the _Gulf of Nicoya_, in a little fleet, consisting of two small barks, a row-galley, and nine large canoes. A tornado came on in the night which dispersed them a good deal. At daylight they were surprised at counting thirteen sail in company, and before they discovered which was the strange vessel, five more sail came in sight. [Sidenote: Grogniet is joined by Townley.] They soon joined each other, and the strangers proved to be a party of the Buccaneers of whom Townley was the head. Townley had parted company from Swan not quite two months before. His company consisted of 115 men, embarked in a ship and five large canoes. Townley had advanced with his canoes along the coast before his ship to seek provisions, he and his men being no better off in that respect than Grogniet and his followers. On their meeting as above related, the French did not forget Townley's former overbearing conduct towards them: they, however, limited their vengeance to a short triumph. Lussan says, 'we now finding ourselves the strongest, called to mind the ill offices he had done us, and to shew him our resentment, we made him and his men in the canoes with him our prisoners. We then boarded his ship, of which we made ourselves masters, and pretended that we would keep her. We let them remain some time under this apprehension, after which we made them see that we were more honest and civilized people than they were, and that we would not profit of our advantage over them to revenge ourselves; for after keeping possession about four or five hours, we returned to them their ship and all that had been taken from them.' The English shewed their sense of this moderation by offering to join in the attack on _Granada_, which offer was immediately accepted. [Sidenote: April. Expedition against the City of Granada.] The city of _Granada_ is situated in a valley bordering on the _Lake of Nicaragua_, and is about 16 leagues distant from _Leon_. The Buccaneers were provided with guides, and to avoid giving the Spaniards suspicion of their design, Townley's ship and the two barks were left at anchor near _Cape Blanco_, whilst the force destined to be employed against _Granada_ proceeded in the canoes to the place at which it was proposed to land, directions being left with the ship and barks to follow in due time. [Sidenote: 7th.] The 7th of April, 345 Buccaneers landed from the canoes, about twenty leagues NW-ward of _Cape Blanco_, and began their march, conducted by the guides, who led them through woods and unfrequented ways. They travelled night and day till the 9th, in hopes to reach the city before they were discovered by the inhabitants, or their having landed should be known by the Spaniards. The province of _Nicaragua_, in which _Granada_ stands, is reckoned one of the most fertile in _New Spain_. The distance from where the Buccaneers landed, to the city, may be estimated about 60 miles. Yet they expected to come upon it by surprise; and in fact they did travel the greater part of the way without being seen by any inhabitant. Such a mark of the state of the population, corresponds with all the accounts given of the wretched tyranny exercised by the Spaniards over the nations they have conquered. The Buccaneers however were discovered in their second day's march, by people who were fishing in a river, some of whom immediately posted off with the intelligence. The Spaniards had some time before been advertised by a deserter that the Buccaneers designed to attack _Granada_; but they were known to entertain designs upon so many places, and to be so fluctuating in their plans, that the Spaniards could only judge from certain intelligence where most to guard against their attempts. [Sidenote: 9th.] On the night of the 9th, fatigue and hunger obliged the Buccaneers to halt at a sugar plantation four leagues distant from the city. One man, unable to keep up with the rest, had been taken prisoner. [Sidenote: 10th.] The morning of the 10th, they marched on, and from an eminence over which they passed, had a view of the _Lake of Nicaragua_, on which were seen two vessels sailing from the city. These vessels the Buccaneers afterwards learnt, were freighted with the richest moveables that at short notice the inhabitants had been able to embark, to be conveyed for security to an Island in the Lake which was two leagues distant from the city. _Granada_ was large and spacious, with magnificent churches and well-built houses. The ground is destitute of water, and the town is supplied from the Lake; nevertheless there were many large sugar plantations in the neighbourhood, some of which were like small towns, and had handsome churches. _Granada_ was not regularly fortified, but had a place of arms surrounded with a wall, in the nature of a citadel, and furnished with cannon. The great church was within this inclosed part of the town. [Sidenote: The City of Nueva Granada taken;] The Buccaneers arrived about two o'clock in the afternoon, and immediately assaulted the place of arms, which they carried with the loss of four men killed, and eight wounded, most of them mortally. The first act of the victors, according to Lussan, was to sing _Te Deum_ in the great church; and the next, to plunder. Provisions, military stores, and a quantity of merchandise, were found in the town, the latter of which was of little or no value to the captors. [Sidenote: 11th.] The next day they sent to enquire if the Spaniards would ransom the town, and the merchandise. It had been rumoured that the Buccaneers would be unwilling to destroy _Granada_, because they proposed at some future period to make it their baiting place, in returning to the _North Sea_, and the Spaniards scarcely condescended to make answer to the demand for ransom. [Sidenote: And Burnt.] The Buccaneers in revenge set fire to the houses. 'If we could have found boats,' says Lussan, 'to have gone on the lake, and could have taken the two vessels laden with the riches of _Granada_, we should have thought this a favourable opportunity for returning to the _West Indies_.' [Sidenote: 15th.] On the 15th, they left _Granada_, to return to the coast, which journey they performed in the most leisurely manner. They took with them a large cannon, with oxen to draw it, and some smaller guns which they laid upon mules. The weather was hot and dry, and the road so clouded with dust, as almost to stifle both men and beasts. Sufficient provision of water had not been made for the journey, and the oxen all died. The cannon was of course left on the road. Towards the latter part of the journey, water and refreshments were procured at some villages and houses, the inhabitants of which furnished supplies as a condition that their dwellings should be spared. On the 26th, they arrived at the sea and embarked in their vessels, taking on board with them a Spanish priest whom the Spaniards would not redeem by delivering up their buccaneer prisoner. Most of the men wounded in the Granada expedition died of cramps. [Sidenote: 28th, At Ria Lexa. May.] The 28th, they came upon _Ria Lexa_ unexpectedly, and made one hundred of the inhabitants prisoners. By such means, little could be gained more than present subsistence, and that was rendered very precarious by the Spaniards removing their cattle from the coast. It was therefore determined to put an end to their unprofitable continuance in one place; but they could not agree where next to go. All the English, and one half of the French, were for sailing to the _Bay of Panama_. The other half of the French, 148 in number, with Grogniet at their head, declared for trying their fortunes North-westward. Division was made of the vessels and provisions. The whole money which the French had acquired by their depredations amounted to little more than 7000 dollars, and this sum they generously distributed among those of their countrymen who had been lamed or disabled. [Sidenote: Grogniet and Townley part Company. Buccaneers under Townley.] May the 19th, they parted company. Those bound for the _Bay of Panama_, of whom Townley appears to have been regarded the head, had a ship, a bark, and some large canoes. Townley proposed an attack on the town of _Lavelia_ or _La Villia_, at which place the treasure from the Lima ships had been landed in the preceding year, and this proposal was approved. [Sidenote: June.] Tornadoes and heavy rains kept them among the _Keys of Quibo_ till the middle of June. On the 20th of that month, they arrived off the _Punta Mala_, and during the day, they lay at a distance from the land with sails furled. At night the principal part of their force made for the land in the canoes; but they had been deceived in the distance. Finding that they could not reach the river which leads to _Lavelia_ before day, they took down the sails and masts, and went to three leagues distance from the land, where they lay all the day of the 21st. Lussan, who was of this party of Buccaneers, says that they were obliged to practise the same manoeuvre on the day following. In the middle of the night of the 22d, 160 Buccaneers landed from the canoes at the entrance of the river. [Sidenote: 23d. Lavelia taken.] They were some hours in marching to _Lavelia_, yet the town was surprised, and above 300 of the inhabitants made prisoners. This was in admirable conformity with the rest of the management of the Spaniards. The fleet from _Lima_, laden with treasure intended for _Panama_, had, more than a year before, landed the treasure and rich merchandise at _Lavelia_, as a temporary measure of security against the Buccaneers, suited to the occasion. The Government at _Panama_, and the other proprietors, would not be at the trouble of getting it removed to _Panama_, except in such portions as might be required by some present convenience; and allowed a great part to remain in _Lavelia_, a place of no defence, although during the whole time Buccaneers had been on the coast of _Veragua_, or _Nicaragua_, to whom it now became an easy prey, through indolence and a total want of vigilance, as well in the proprietors as in those whom they employed to guard it. Three Spanish barks were riding in the river, one of which the crews sunk, and so dismantled the others that no use could be made of them; but the Buccaneers found two boats in serviceable condition at a landing-place a quarter of a league below the town. The riches they now saw in their possession equalled their most sanguine expectations, and if secured, they thought would compensate for all former disappointments. The merchandise in _Lavelia_ was estimated in value at a million and a half of piastres. The gold and silver found there amounted only to 15,000 piastres. The first day of being masters of _Lavelia_, was occupied by the Buccaneers in making assortments of the most valuable articles of the merchandise. The next morning, they loaded 80 horses with bales, and a guard of 80 men went with them to the landing-place where the two boats above mentioned were lying. In the way, one man of this escort was taken by the Spaniards. The two prize boats were by no means large enough to carry all the goods which the Buccaneers proposed to take from _Lavelia_; and on that account directions had been dispatched to the people in the canoes at the entrance of the river to advance up towards the town. These directions they attempted to execute; but the land bordering the river was woody, which exposed the canoes to the fire of a concealed enemy, and after losing one man, they desisted from advancing. For the same cause, it was thought proper not to send off the two loaded boats without a strong guard, and they did not move during this day. The Buccaneers sent a letter to the Spanish Alcalde, to demand if he would ransom the town, the merchandise, and the prisoners; but the Alcalde refused to treat with them. [Sidenote: The Town set on fire.] In the afternoon therefore, they set fire to the town, and marched to the landing-place where the two boats lay, and there rested for the night. [Sidenote: River of Lavelia.] The river of _Lavelia_ is broad, but shallow. Vessels of forty tons can go a league and a half within the entrance. The landing-place is yet a league and a half farther up, and the town is a quarter of a mile from the landing-place[86]. [Sidenote: 25th.] On the morning of the 25th, the two boats, laden as deep as was safe, began to fall down the river, having on board nine men to conduct them. The main body of the Buccaneers at the same time marched along the bank on one side of the river for their protection. A body of Spaniards skreened by the woods, and unseen by the Buccaneers, kept pace with them on the other side of the river, at a small distance within the bank. The Buccaneers had marched about a league, and the boats had descended as far, when they came to a point of land on which the trees and underwood grew so thick as not to be penetrated without some labour and expence of time, to which they did not choose to submit, but preferred making a circuit which took them about a quarter of a mile from the river. The Spaniards on the opposite side were on the watch, and not slow in taking advantage of their absence. They came to the bank, whence they fired upon the men in the laden boats, four of whom they killed, and wounded one; the other four abandoned the boats and escaped into the thicket. The Spaniards took possession of the boats, and finding there the wounded Buccaneer, they cut off his head and fixed it on a stake which they set up by the side of the river at a place by which the rest of the Buccaneers would necessarily have to pass. The main body of the Buccaneers regained the side of the river in ignorance of what had happened; and not seeing the boats, were for a time in doubt whether they were gone forward, or were still behind. The first notice they received of their loss was from the men who had escaped from the boats, who made their way through the thicket and joined them. Thus did this crew of Buccaneers, within a short space of time, win by circumspection and adroitness, and lose by negligence, the richest booty they had ever made. If quitting the bank of the river had been a matter of necessity, and unavoidable, there was nothing but idleness to prevent their conveying their plunder the remainder of the distance to their boats by land. In making their way through the woods, they found the rudder, sails, and other furniture of the Spanish barks in the river; the barks themselves were near at hand, and the Buccaneers embarked in them; but the flood tide making, they came to an anchor, and lay still for the night. [Sidenote: June 26th.] The next morning, as they descended the river, they saw the boats which they had so richly freighted, now cleared of their lading and broken to pieces; and near to their wreck, was the head which the Spaniards had stuck up. This spectacle, added to the mortifying loss of their booty, threw the Buccaneers into a frenzy, and they forthwith cut off the heads of four prisoners, and set them on poles in the same place. In the passage down the river, four more of the Buccaneers were killed by the firing of the Spaniards from the banks. [Sidenote: 27th.] The day after their retreat from the river of _Lavelia_, a Spaniard went off to them to treat for the release of the prisoners, and they came to an agreement that 10,000 pieces of eight should be paid for their ransom. Some among them who had wives were permitted to go on shore that they might assist in procuring the money; but on the 29th, the same messenger again went off and acquainted them that the _Alcalde Major_ would not only not suffer the relations of the prisoners to send money for their ransom, but that he had arrested some of those whom the Buccaneers had allowed to land. On receiving this report, these savages without hesitation cut off the heads of two of their prisoners, and delivered them to the messenger, to be carried to the _Alcalde_, with their assurance that if the ransom did not speedily arrive, the rest of the prisoners would be treated in the same manner. The next day the ransom was settled for the remaining prisoners, and for one of the captured barks; the Spaniards paying partly with money, partly with provisions and necessaries, and with the release of the Buccaneer they had taken. In the agreement for the bark, the Spaniards required a note specifying that if the Buccaneers again met her, they should make prize only of the cargo, and not of the vessel. After the destruction of _Lavelia_, it might be supposed that the perpetrators of so much mischief would not be allowed with impunity to remain in the _Bay of Panama_; but such was the weakness or negligence of the Spaniards, that this small body of freebooters continued several months in this same neighbourhood, and at times under the very walls of the City. On another point, however, the Spaniards were more active, and with success; for they concluded a treaty of peace and alliance with the Indians of the _Isthmus_, in consequence of which, the passage overland through the Darien country was no longer open to the Buccaneers; and some small parties of them who attempted to travel across, were intercepted and cut off by the Spaniards, with the assistance of the natives. [Sidenote: July.] The Spaniards had at _Panama_ a military corps distinguished by the appellation of Greeks, which was composed of Europeans of different nations, not natives of _Spain_. Among the atrocities committed by the crew under Townley, they put to death one of these Greeks, who was also Commander of a Spanish vessel, because on examining him for intelligence, they thought he endeavoured to deceive them; and in aggravation of the deed, Lussan relates the circumstance in the usual manner of his pleasantries, 'we paid him for his treachery by sending him to the other world.' [Sidenote: August.] On the 20th of August, as they were at anchor within sight of the city of _Panama_, they observed boats passing and repassing between some vessels and the shore, and a kind of bustle which had the appearance of an equipment. [Sidenote: Battle with Spanish armed Ships.] The next day, the Buccaneers anchored near the Island _Taboga_; and there, on the morning of the 22d, they were attacked by three armed vessels from _Panama_. The Spaniards were provided with cannon, and the battle lasted half the day, when, owing to an explosion of gunpowder in one of the Spanish vessels, the victory was decided in favour of the Buccaneers. Two of the three Spanish vessels were taken, as was also one other, which during the fight arrived from _Panama_ as a reinforcement. In the last mentioned prize, cords were found prepared for binding their prisoners in the event of their being victorious; and this, the Buccaneers deemed provocation sufficient for them to slaughter the whole crew. This battle, so fatal to the Spaniards, cost the Buccaneers only one man killed outright, and 22 wounded. Townley was among the wounded. Two of the prizes were immediately manned from the canoes, the largest under the command of Le Picard, who was the chief among the French of this party. They had many prisoners; and one was sent with a letter to the President of _Panama_, to demand ransom for them; also medicines and dressings for the wounded, and the release of five Buccaneers who they learnt were prisoners to the Spaniards. The medicines were sent, but the President would not treat either of ransom, or of the release of the buccaneer prisoners. The Buccaneers dispatched a second message to the President, in which they threatened that if the five Buccaneers were not immediately delivered to them, the heads of all the Spaniards in their possession, should be sent to him. The President paid little attention to this message, not believing that such a threat would be executed; but the Bishop of _Panama_, regarding what had recently happened at _Lavelia_ as an earnest of what the Buccaneers were capable, was seriously alarmed. He wrote a letter to them which he sent by a special messenger, in which he exhorted them in the mildest terms not to shed the blood of innocent men, and promised if they would have patience, to exert his influence to procure the release of the buccaneer prisoners. His letter concluded with the following remarkable paragraph, which shews the great hopes entertained by the Roman Catholics respecting _Great Britain_ during the Reign of King James the IId. '_I have information_,' says the Bishop, '_to give you, that the English are all become Roman Catholics, and that there is now a Catholic Church at Jamaica_.' The good Prelate's letter was pronounced by the Buccaneers to be void of truth and sincerity, and an insult to their understanding. They had already received the price of blood, shed not in battle nor in their own defence; and now, devoting themselves to their thirst for gain, they would not be diverted from their sanguinary purpose, but came to the resolution of sending the heads of twenty Spaniards to the President, and with them a message purporting that if they did not receive a satisfactory answer to all their demands by the 28th of the month, the heads of the remaining prisoners should answer for it. Lussan says, 'the President's refusal obliged us, though with some reluctance, to take the resolution to send him twenty heads of his people in a canoe. This method was indeed a little violent, but it was the only way to bring the Spaniards to reason[87].' What they had resolved they put into immediate execution. The President of _Panama_ was entirely overcome by their inhuman proceedings, and in the first shock and surprise, he yielded without stipulation to all they had demanded. On the 28th, the buccaneer prisoners (four Englishmen and one Frenchman) were delivered to them, with a letter from the President, who said he left to their own conscience the disposal of the Spanish prisoners yet remaining in their hands. To render the triumph of cruelty and ferocity more complete, the Buccaneers, in an answer to the President, charged the whole blame of what they had done to his obstinacy; in exchange for the five Buccaneers, they sent only twelve of their Spanish prisoners; and they demanded 20,000 pieces of eight as ransom of the remainder, which demand however, they afterwards mitigated to half that sum and a supply of refreshments. On the 4th of September, the ransom was paid, and the prisoners were released. [Sidenote: September. Death of Townley.] September the 9th, the buccaneer commander, Townley, died of the wound he received in the last battle. The English and French Buccaneers were faithful associates, but did not mix well as comrades. In a short time after Townley's death, the English desired that a division should be made of the prize vessels, artillery, and stores, and that those of their nation should keep together in the same vessels: and this was done, without other separation taking place at the time. [Sidenote: November.] In November, they left the _Bay of Panama_, and sailed Westward to their old station near the _Point de Burica_, where, by surprising small towns, villages, and farms, a business at which they had become extremely expert, they procured provisions; and by the ransom of prisoners, some money. [Sidenote: 1687. January.] In January (1687) they intercepted a letter from the Spanish Commandant at _Sonsonnate_ addressed to the President of _Panama_, by which they learnt that Grogniet had been in _Amapalla Bay_, and that three of his men had been taken prisoners. The Commandant remarked in his letter, that the peace made with the _Darien_ Indians, having cut off the retreat of the Buccaneers, would drive them to desperation, and render them like so many mad dogs; he advised therefore that some means should be adopted to facilitate their retreat, that the Spaniards in the _South Sea_ might again enjoy repose. '_They have landed_,' he says, '_in these parts ten or twelve times, without knowing what they were seeking; but wheresoever they come, they spoil and lay waste every thing_.' A few days after intercepting this letter, they took prisoner a Spanish horseman. Lussan says, 'We interrogated him with the usual ceremonies, that is to say, we gave him the torture, to make him tell us what we wanted to know.' Many such villanies were undoubtedly committed by these banditti, more than appear in their Narratives, or than they dared to make known. Lussan, who writes a history of his voyage, not before the end of the second year of his adventures in the _South Sea_, relates that they put a prisoner to the torture; and it would have appeared as an individual instance, if he had not, probably through inadvertence, acknowledged it to have been their established practice. Lussan on his return to his native land, pretended to reputation and character; and he found countenance and favour from his superiors; it is therefore to be presumed, that he would suppress every transaction in which he was a participator, which he thought of too deep a nature to be received by his patrons with indulgence. A circumstance which tended to make this set of Buccaneers worse than any that had preceded them, was, its being composed of men of two nations between which there has existed a constant jealousy and emulation. They were each ambitious to outdo the other in acts of daringness, and were thereby instigated to every kind of excess. [Sidenote: Grogniet rejoins them.] On the 20th, near _Caldera Bay_, they met Grogniet with sixty French Buccaneers in three canoes. Grogniet had parted from Townley at the head of 148 men. They had made several descents on the coast. At the _Bay of Amapalla_, they marched 14 leagues within the coast to a gold-mine, where they took many prisoners, and a small quantity of gold. Grogniet wished to return overland to the West-Indian Sea, but the majority of his companions were differently inclined, and 85 quitted him, and went to try their fortunes towards _California_. Grogniet nevertheless persevered in the design with the remainder of his crew, to seek some part of the coast of _New Spain_, thin of inhabitants, where they might land unknown to the Spaniards, and march without obstruction through the country to the shore of the _Atlantic_, without other guide than a compass. The party they now met with, prevailed on them to defer the execution of this project to a season of the year more favourable, and in the mean time to unite with them. [Sidenote: February. They divide.] In February, they set fire to the town of _Nicoya_. Their gains by these descents were so small, that they agreed to leave the coast of _New Spain_ and to go against _Guayaquil_; but on coming to this determination, the English and the French fell into high dispute for the priority of choice in the prize vessels which they expected to take, insomuch that upon this difference they broke off partnership. [Sidenote: Both Parties sail for the Coast of Peru.] Grogniet however, and about fifty of the French, remained with the English, which made the whole number of that party 142 men, and they all embarked in one ship, the canoes not being safe for an open sea navigation. The other party numbered 162 men, all French, and embarked in a small ship and a _Barca longa_. The most curious circumstance attending this separation was, that both parties persevered in the design upon _Guayaquil_, without any proposal being made by either to act in concert. They sailed from the coast of _New Spain_ near the end of February, not in company, but each using all their exertions to arrive first at the place of destination. [Sidenote: They meet again, and reunite.] They crossed the Equinoctial line separately, but afterwards at sea accidentally fell in company with each other again, and at this meeting they accommodated their differences, and renewed their partnership. [Sidenote: April.] April the 13th, they were near _Point Santa Elena_, on the coast of _Peru_, and met there a prize vessel belonging to their old Commander Edward Davis and his Company, but which had been separated from him. She was laden with corn and wine, and eight of Davis's men had the care of her. They had been directed in case of separation, to rendezvous at the Island _Plata_; but the uncertainty of meeting Davis there, and the danger they should incur if they missed him, made them glad to join in the expedition against _Guayaquil_, and the provisions with which the vessel was laden, made them welcome associates to the Buccaneers engaged in it. [Sidenote: Attack on Guayaquil.] Their approach to the City of _Guayaquil_ was conducted with the most practised circumspection and vigilance. On first getting sight of _Point Santa Elena_, they took in their sails and lay with them furled as long as there was daylight. In the night they pursued their course, keeping at a good distance from the land, till they were to the Southward of the _Island Santa Clara_. [Sidenote: 15th.] Two hundred and sixty men then (April the 15th) departed from the ships in canoes. They landed at _Santa Clara_, which was uninhabited, and at a part of the _Island Puna_ distant from any habitation, proceeding only during the night time, and lying in concealment during the day. [Sidenote: 18th.] In the night of the 17th, they approached the _River Guayaquil_. At daylight, they were perceived by a guard on watch near the entrance, who lighted a fire as a signal to other guards stationed farther on; by whom, however, the signal was not observed. The Buccaneers put as speedily as they could to the nearest land, and a party of the most alert made a circuit through the woods, and surprised the guard at the first signal station, before the alarm had spread farther. They stopped near the entrance till night. [Sidenote: 19th. 20th.] All day of the 19th, they rested at an Island in the river, and at night advanced again. Their intention was to have passed the town in their canoes, and to have landed above it, where they would be the least expected; but the tide of flood with which they ascended the river did not serve long enough for their purpose, and on the 20th, two hours before day, they landed a short distance below the town, towards which they began to march; but the ground was marshy and overgrown with brushwood. Thus far they had proceeded undiscovered; when one of the Buccaneers left to guard the canoes struck a light to smoke tobacco, which was perceived by a Spanish sentinel on the shore opposite, who immediately fired his piece, and gave alarm to the Fort and Town. This discovery and the badness of the road caused the Buccaneers to defer the attack till daylight. The town of _Guayaquil_ is built round a mountain, on which were three forts which overlooked the town. [Sidenote: The City taken.] The Spaniards made a tolerable defence, but by the middle of the day they were driven from all their forts, and the town was left to the Buccaneers, detachments of whom were sent to endeavour to bring in prisoners, whilst a chosen party went to the Great Church to chant _Te Deum_. Nine Buccaneers were killed and twelve wounded in the attack. The booty found in the town was considerable in jewels, merchandise, and silver, particularly in church plate, besides 92,000 dollars in money, and they took seven hundred prisoners, among whom were the Governor and his family. Fourteen vessels lay at anchor in the Port, and two ships were on the stocks nearly fit for launching. On the evening of the day that the city was taken, the Governor (being a prisoner) entered into treaty with the Buccaneers, for the City, Fort, Shipping, himself, and all the prisoners, to be redeemed for a million pieces of eight, to be paid in gold, and 400 packages of flour; and to hasten the procurement of the money, which was to be brought from _Quito_, the Vicar General of the district, who was also a prisoner, was released. [Sidenote: 21st.] The 21st, in the night, by the carelessness of a Buccaneer, one of the houses took fire, which communicated to other houses with such rapidity, that one third of the city was destroyed before its progress was stopped. It had been specified in the treaty, that the Buccaneers should not set fire to the town; 'therefore,' says Lussan, 'lest in consequence of this accident, the Spaniards should refuse to pay the ransom, we pretended to believe it was their doing.' Many bodies of the Spaniards killed in the assault of the town, remained unburied where they had fallen, and the Buccaneers were apprehensive that some infectious disorder would thereby be produced. [Sidenote: 24th. At the Island Puna.] They hastened therefore to embark on board the vessels in the port, their plunder and 500 of their prisoners, with which, on the 25th, they fell down the River to the _Island Puna_, where they proposed to wait for the ransom. [Sidenote: May. Grogniet dies.] On the 2d of May, Captain Grogniet died of a wound he received at _Guayaquil_. Le Picard was afterwards the chief among the French Buccaneers. The 5th of May had been named for the payment of the ransom, from which time the money was daily and with increasing impatience expected by the Buccaneers. It was known that Spanish ships of war were equipping at _Callao_ purposely to attack them; and also that their former Commander, Edward Davis, with a good ship, was near this part of the coast. They were anxious to have his company, and on the 4th, dispatched a galley to seek him at the Island _Plata_, the place of rendezvous he had appointed for his prize. The 5th passed without any appearance of ransom money; as did many following days. The Spaniards, however, regularly sent provisions to the ships at _Puna_ every day, otherwise the prisoners would have starved; but in lieu of money they substituted nothing better than promises. The Buccaneers would have felt it humiliation to appear less ferocious than on former occasions, and they recurred to their old mode of intimidation. They made the prisoners throw dice to determine which of them should die, and the heads of four on whom the lot fell were delivered to a Spanish officer in answer to excuses for delay which he had brought from the Lieutenant Governor of _Guayaquil_, with an intimation that at the end of four days more five hundred heads should follow, if the ransom did not arrive. [Sidenote: 14th.] On the 14th, their galley which had been sent in search of Davis returned, not having found him at the Island _Plata_; but she brought notice of two strange sail being near the Cape _Santa Elena_. [Sidenote: Edward Davis joins Le Picard.] These proved to be Edward Davis's ship, and a prize. Davis had received intelligence, as already mentioned, of the Buccaneers having captured _Guayaquil_, and was now come purposely to join them. He sent his prize to the Buccaneers at _Puna_, and remained with his own ship in the offing on the look-out. The four days allowed for the payment of the ransom expired, and no ransom was sent; neither did the Buccaneers execute their sanguinary threat. It is worthy of remark, that intreaty or intercession made to this set of Buccaneers, so far from obtaining remission or favour, at all times produced the opposite effect, as if reminding them of their power, instigated them to an imperious display of it. The Lieutenant Governor of _Guayaquil_ was in no haste to fulfil the terms of the treaty made by the Governor, nor did he importune them with solicitations, and the whole business for a time lay at rest. The forbearance of the Buccaneers may not unjustly be attributed to Davis having joined them. [Sidenote: 23d.] On the 23d, the Spaniards paid to the Buccaneers as much gold as amounted in value to 20,000 pieces of eight, and eighty packages of flour, as part of the ransom. The day following, the Lieutenant Governor sent word, that they might receive 22,000 pieces of eight more for the release of the prisoners, and if that sum would not satisfy them, they might do their worst, for that no greater would be paid them. Upon this message, the Buccaneers held a consultation, whether they should cut off the heads of all the prisoners, or take the 22,000 pieces of eight, and it was determined, not unanimously, but by a majority of voices, that it was better to take a little money than to cut off many heads. Lussan, his own biographer and a young man, boasts of the pleasant manner in which he passed his time at _Puna_. 'We made good cheer, being daily supplied with refreshments from _Guayaquil_. We had concerts of music; we had the best performers of the city among our prisoners. Some among us engaged in friendships with our women prisoners, who were not hard hearted.' This is said by way of prelude to a history which he gives of his own good fortune; all which, whether true or otherwise, serves to shew, that among this abandoned crew the prisoners of both sexes were equally unprotected. [Sidenote: 26th.] On the 26th, the 22,000 pieces of eight were paid to the Buccaneers, who selected a hundred prisoners of the most consideration to retain, and released the rest. The same day, they quitted their anchorage at _Puna_, intending to anchor again at Point _Santa Elena_, and there to enter afresh into negociation for ransom of prisoners: but in the evening, two Spanish Ships of War came in sight. The engagement which ensued, and other proceedings of the Buccaneers, until Edward Davis parted company to return homeward by the South of _America_, has been related. [Sidenote: See pp. 196 to 200.] It remains to give an account of the French Buccaneers after the separation, to their finally quitting the _South Sea_. CHAP. XXIV. _Retreat of the =French Buccaneers= across =New Spain= to the =West Indies=. All the =Buccaneers= quit the =South Sea=._ [Sidenote: 1687. June. Le Picard and Hout.] The party left by Davis consisted of 250 Buccaneers, the greater number of whom were French, the rest were English, and their leaders Le Picard and George Hout. They had determined to quit the _South Sea_, and with that view to sail to the coast of _New Spain_, whence they proposed to march over land to the shore of the _Caribbean Sea_. [Sidenote: July. On the Coast of New Spain.] About the end of July, they anchored in the _Bay of Amapalla_, and were joined there by thirty French Buccaneers. These thirty were part of a crew which had formerly quitted Grogniet to cruise towards _California_. Others of that party were still on the coast to the North-West, and the Buccaneers in _Amapalla Bay_ put to sea in search of them, that all of their fraternity in the _South Sea_ might be collected, and depart together. In the search after their former companions, they landed at different places on the coast of _New Spain_. Among their adventures here, they took, and remained four days in possession of, the Town of _Tecoantepeque_, but without any profit to themselves. At _Guatulco_, they plundered some plantations, and obtained provisions in ransom for prisoners. Whilst they lay there at anchor, they saw a vessel in the offing, which from her appearance, and manner of working her sails, they believed to contain the people they were seeking; but the wind and sea set so strong on the shore at the time, that neither their vessels nor boats could go out to ascertain what she was; and after that day, they did not see her again. [Sidenote: December. In Amapalla Bay.] In the middle of December they returned to the _Bay of Amapalla_, which they had fixed upon for the place of their departure from the shores of the _South Sea_. Their plan was, to march by the town of _Nueva Segovia_, which had before been visited by Buccaneers, and they now expected would furnish them with provisions. According to Lussan's information, the distance they would have to travel by land from _Amapalla Bay_, was about 60 leagues, when they would come to the source of a river, by which they could descend to the _Caribbean Sea_, near to _Cape Gracias a Dios_. Whilst they made preparation for their march, they were anxious to obtain intelligence what force the Spaniards had in their proposed route, but the natives kept at a distance. On the 18th, seventy Buccaneers landed and marched into the country, of which adventure Lussan gives the account following. They travelled the whole day without meeting an inhabitant. They rested for the night, and next morning proceeded in their journey, but all seemed a desert, and about noon, the majority were dissatisfied and turned back. Twenty went on; and soon after came to a beaten road, on which they perceived three horsemen riding towards them, whom they way-laid so effectually as to take them all. [Sidenote: Chiloteca.] By these men they learnt the way to a small town named _Chiloteca_, to which they went and there made fifty of the inhabitants prisoners. [Sidenote: Massacre of Prisoners.] They took up their quarters in the church, where they also lodged their prisoners, and intended to have rested during the night; but after dark, they heard much bustle in the town, which made them apprehensive the Spaniards were preparing to attack them, and the noise caused in the prisoners the appearance of a disposition to rise; upon which, the Buccaneers slew them all except four, whom they carried away with them, and reached the vessels without being molested in their retreat. The prisoners were interrogated; and the accounts they gave confirmed the Buccaneers in the opinion that they had no better chance of transporting themselves and their plunder to the _North Sea_, than by immediately setting about the execution of the plan they had formed. [Sidenote: The Buccaneers burn their Vessels.] To settle the order of the march, they landed their riches and the stores necessary for their journey, on one of the Islands in the Bay; and that their number might not suffer diminution by the defection of any, it was agreed to destroy the vessels, which was executed forthwith, with the reserve of one galley and the canoes, which were necessary for the transport of themselves and their effects to the main land. They made a muster of their force, which they divided into four companies, each consisting of seventy men, and every man having his arms and accoutrements. Whilst these matters were arranging, a detachment of 100 men were sent to the main land to endeavour to get horses. They had destroyed their vessels, and had not removed from the Island, when a large Spanish armed ship anchored in _Amapalla Bay_; but she was not able to give them annoyance, nor in the least to impede their operations. [Sidenote: 1688. January.] On the 1st of January, 1688, they passed over, with their effects, to the main land, and the same day, the party which had gone in search of horses, returned, bringing with them sixty-eight, which were divided equally among the four companies, to be employed in carrying stores and provisions, as were eighty prisoners, who besides being carriers of stores, were made to carry the sick and wounded. Every Buccaneer had his particular sack, or package, which it was required should contain his ammunition; what else, was at his own discretion. Many of these Buccaneers had more silver than themselves were able to carry. There were also many who had neither silver nor gold, and were little encumbered with effects of their own: these light freighted gentry were glad to be hired as porters to the rich, and the contract for carrying silver, on this occasion, was one half; that is to say, that on arriving at the _North Sea_, there should be an equal division between the employer and the carrier. Carriage of gold or other valuables was according to particular agreement. Lussan, who no doubt was as sharp a rogue as any among his companions, relates of himself, that he had been fortunate at play, and that his winnings added to his share of plunder, amounted to 30,000 pieces of eight, the whole of which he had converted into gold and jewels; and that whilst they were making ready for their march, he received warning from a friend that a gang had been formed by about twenty of the poorer Buccaneers, with the intention to waylay and strip those of their brethren, who had been most fortunate. On considering the danger and great difficulty of having to guard against the machinations of hungry conspirators who were to be his fellow-travellers in a long journey, and might have opportunities to perpetrate their mischievous intentions during any fight with the Spaniards, Lussan came to the resolution of making a sacrifice of part of his riches to insure the remaining part, and to lessen the temptation to any individual to seek his death. To this end he divided his treasure into a number of small parcels, which he confided to the care of so many of his companions, making agreement with each for the carriage. [Sidenote: Retreat of the Buccaneers over land to the West Indian Sea.] January the 2d, in the morning, they began their march, an advanced guard being established to consist of ten men from each company, who were to be relieved every morning by ten others. At night they rested at four leagues distance, according to their estimation, from the border of the sea. The first part of Lussan's account of this journey has little of adventure or description. The difficulties experienced were what had been foreseen, such as the inhabitants driving away cattle and removing provisions, setting fire to the dry grass when it could annoy them in their march; and sometimes the Buccaneers were fired at by unseen shooters. They rested at villages and farms when they found any in their route, where, and also by making prisoners, they obtained provisions. When no habitations or buildings were at hand, they generally encamped at night on a hill, or in open ground. Very early in their march they were attended by a body of Spanish troops at a small distance, the music of whose trumpets afforded them entertainment every morning and evening; 'but,' says Lussan, 'it was like the music of the enchanted palace of Psyche, which was heard without the musicians being visible.' On the forenoon of the 9th, notwithstanding their vigilance, the Buccaneers were saluted with an unexpected volley of musketry which killed two men; and this was the only mischance that befel them in their march from the Western Sea to _Segovia_, which town they entered on the 11th of January, without hindrance, and found it without inhabitants, and cleared of every kind of provisions. [Sidenote: Town of New Segovia.] 'The town of _Segovia_ is situated in a vale, and is so surrounded with mountains that it seems to be a prisoner there. The churches are ill built. The place of arms, or parade, is large and handsome, as are many of the houses. It is distant from the shore of the _South Sea_ forty leagues: The road is difficult, the country being extremely mountainous.' On the 12th, they left _Segovia_ and without injuring the houses, a forbearance to which they had little accustomed themselves; but present circumstances brought to their consideration that if it should be their evil fortune to be called to account, it might be quite as well for them not to add the burning of _Segovia_ to the reckoning. The 13th, an hour before sunset, they ascended a hill, which appeared a good station to occupy for the night. When they arrived at the summit, they perceived on the slope of the next mountain before them, a great number of horses grazing (Lussan says between twelve and fifteen hundred), which at the first sight they mistook for horned cattle, and congratulated each other on the near prospect of a good meal; but it was soon discovered they were horses, and that a number of them were saddled: intrenchments also were discerned near the same place, and finally, troops. This part of the country was a thick forest, with deep gullies, and not intersected with any path excepting the road they were travelling, which led across the mountain where the Spaniards were intrenched. On reconnoitring the position of the Spaniards, the road beyond them was seen to the right of the intrenchments. The Buccaneers on short consultation, determined that they would endeavour under cover of the night to penetrate the wood to their right, so as to arrive at the road beyond the Spanish camp, and come on it by surprise. This plan was similar to that which they had projected at _Guayaquil_, and was a business exactly suited to the habits and inclinations of these adventurers, who more than any other of their calling, or perhaps than the native tribes of _North America_, were practised and expert in veiling their purpose so as not to awaken suspicion; in concealing themselves by day and making silent advances by night, and in all the arts by which even the most wary may be ensnared. Here, immediately after fixing their plan, they began to intrench and fortify the ground they occupied, and made all the dispositions which troops usually do who halt for the night. This encampment, besides impressing the Spaniards with the belief that they intended to pass the night in repose, was necessary to the securing their baggage and prisoners. Rest seemed necessary and due to the Buccaneers after a toilsome day's march, and so it was thought by the Spanish Commander, who seeing them fortify their quarters, doubted not that they meant to do themselves justice; but an hour after the close of day, two hundred Buccaneers departed from their camp. The moon shone out bright, which gave them light to penetrate the woods, whilst the woods gave them concealment from the Spaniards, and the Spaniards kept small lookout. Before midnight, they were near enough to hear the Spaniards chanting Litanies, and long before daylight were in the road beyond the Spanish encampment. They waited till the day broke, and then pushed for the camp, which, as had been conjectured, was entirely open on this side. Two Spanish sentinels discovered the approach of the enemy, and gave alarm; but the Buccaneers were immediately after in the camp, and the Spanish troops disturbed from their sleep had neither time nor recollection for any other measure than to save themselves by flight. They abandoned all the intrenchments, and the Buccaneers being masters of the pass, were soon joined by the party who had charge of the baggage and prisoners. In this affair, the loss of the Buccaneers was only two men killed, and four wounded. In the remaining part of their journey, they met no serious obstruction, and were not at any time distressed by a scarcity of provisions. Lussan says they led from the Spanish encampment 900 horses, which served them for carriage, for present food, and to salt for future provision when they should arrive at the sea shore. [Sidenote: Rio de Yare, or Cape River.] On the 17th of January, which was the 16th of their journey, they came to the banks of a river by which they were to descend to the _Caribbean Sea_. This river has its source among the mountains of _Nueva Segovia_, and falls into the sea to the South of _Cape Gracias a Dios_ about 14 leagues, according to D'Anville's Map, in which it is called _Rio de Yare_. Dampier makes it fall into the sea something more to the Southward, and names it the _Cape River_. The country here was not occupied nor frequented by the Spaniards, and was inhabited only in a few places by small tribes of native Americans. The Buccaneers cut down trees, and made rafts or catamarans for the conveyance of themselves and their effects down the stream. On account of the falls, the rafts were constructed each to carry no more than two persons with their luggage, and every man went provided with a pole to guide the raft clear of rocks and shallows. In the commencement of this fresh-water navigation, their maritime experience, with all the pains they could take, did not prevent their getting into whirlpools, where the rafts were overturned, with danger to the men and frequently with the loss of part of the lading. When they came to a fall which appeared more than usually dangerous, they put ashore, took their rafts to pieces, and carried all below the fall, where they re-accommodated matters and embarked again. The rapidity of the stream meeting many obstructions, raised a foam and spray that kept every thing on the rafts constantly wet; the salted horse flesh was in a short time entirely spoilt, and their ammunition in a state not to be of service in supplying them with game. Fortunately for them the banks of the river abounded in banana-trees, both wild and in plantations. When they first embarked on the river, the rafts went in close company; but the irregularity and violence of the stream, continually entangled and drove them against each other, on which account the method was changed, and distances preserved. This gave opportunity to the desperadoes who had conspired against their companions to commence their operations, which they directed against five Englishmen, whom they killed and despoiled. The murderers absconded in the woods with their prey, and were not afterwards seen by the company. [Sidenote: February, 1688.] The 20th of February they had passed all the falls, and were at a broad deep and smooth part of the river, where they found no other obstruction than trees and drift-wood floating. As they were near the sea, many stopped and began to build canoes. Some English Buccaneers who went lower down the river, found at anchor an English vessel belonging to _Jamaica_, from which they learnt that the French Government had just proclaimed an amnesty in favour of those who since the Peace made with _Spain_ had committed acts of piracy, upon condition of their claiming the benefit of the Proclamation within a specified time. A similar proclamation had been issued in the year 1687 by the English Government; but as it was not clear from the report made by the crew of the _Jamaica_ vessel, whether it yet operated, the English Buccaneers would not embark for _Jamaica_. They sent by two Mosquito Indians, an account of the news they had heard to the French Buccaneers, with notice that there was a vessel at the mouth of the river capable of accommodating not more than forty persons. Immediately on receiving the intelligence, above a hundred of the French set off in all haste for the vessel, every one of whom pretended to be of the forty. Those who first arrived on board, took up the anchor as speedily as they could, and set sail, whilst those who were behind called loudly for a decision by lot or dice; but the first comers were content to rest their title on possession. The English Buccaneers remained for the present with the Mosquito Indians near _Cape Gracias a Dios_, 'who,' says Lussan, 'have an affection for the English, on account of the many little commodities which they bring them from the Island of _Jamaica_.' The greater part of the French Buccaneers went to the French settlements; but seventy-five of them who went to _Jamaica_, were apprehended and detained prisoners by the Duke of Albemarle, who was then Governor, and their effects sequestrated. They remained in prison until the death of the Duke, which happened in the following year, when they were released; but neither their arms nor plunder were returned to them. The _South Sea_ was now cleared of the main body of the Buccaneers. A few stragglers remained, concerning whom some scattered notices are found, of which the following are the heads. [Sidenote: La Pava.] Seixas mentions an English frigate named _La Pava_, being wrecked in the _Strait of Magalhanes_ in the year 1687; and that her loss was occasioned by currents[88]. By the name being Spanish (signifying the Hen) this vessel must have been a prize to the Buccaneers. [Sidenote: Captain Straiton.] In the Narrative of the loss of the Wager, by Bulkeley and Cummins, it is mentioned that they found at _Port Desire_ cut on a brick, in very legible characters, "Captain Straiton, 16 cannon, 1687." Most probably this was meant of a Buccaneer vessel. [Sidenote: Le Sage.] At the time that the English and French Buccaneers were crossing the _Isthmus_ in great numbers from the _West Indies_ to the _South Sea_, two hundred French Buccaneers departed from _Hispaniola_ in a ship commanded by a Captain Le Sage, intending to go to the _South Sea_ by the _Strait of Magalhanes_; but having chosen a wrong season of the year for that passage, and finding the winds unfavourable, they stood over to the coast of _Africa_, where they continued cruising two years, and returned to the _West Indies_ with great booty, obtained at the expence of the Hollanders. [Sidenote: Small Crew of Buccaneers at the Tres Marias.] The small crew of French Buccaneers in the _South Sea_ who were a part of those who had separated from Grogniet to cruise near _California_, and for whom Le Picard had sought in vain on the coast of _New Spain_, were necessitated by the smallness of their force, and the bad state of their vessel, to shelter themselves at the _Tres Marias Islands_ in the entrance of the _Gulf of California_. [Sidenote: Their Adventures, and Return to the West Indies.] It is said that they remained four years among those Islands, at the end of which time, they determined, rather than to pass the rest of their lives in so desolate a place, to sail Southward, though with little other prospect or hope than that they should meet some of their former comrades; instead of which, on looking in at _Arica_ on the coast of _Peru_, they found at anchor in the road a Spanish ship, which they took, and in her a large quantity of treasure. The Buccaneers embarked in their prize, and proceeded Southward for the _Atlantic_, but were cast ashore in the _Strait of Magalhanes_. Part of the treasure, and as much of the wreck of the vessel as served to construct two sloops, were saved, with which, after so many perils, they arrived safe in the _West Indies_. [Sidenote: Story related by Le Sieur Froger.] Le Sieur Froger, in his account of the Voyage of M. de Gennes, has introduced a narrative of a party of French Buccaneers or Flibustiers going from _Saint Domingo_ to the _South Sea_, in the year 1686; which is evidently a romance fabricated from the descriptions which had been given of their general courses and habits. These _protegés_ of Le Sieur Froger, like the Buccaneer crew from the _Tres Marias Islands_ just mentioned, were reduced to great distress,--took a rich prize afterwards on the coast of _Peru_,--were returning to the _Atlantic_, and lost their ship in the _Strait of Magalhanes_. They were ten months in the _Strait_ building a bark, which they loaded with the best of what they had saved of the cargo of their ship, and in the end arrived safe at _Cayenne_[89]. Funnel also mentions a report which he heard, of a small crew of French Buccaneers, not more than twenty, whose adventures were of the same cast; and who probably were the _Tres Marias_ Buccaneers. It has been related that five Buccaneers who had gamed away their money, unwilling to return poor out of the _South Sea_, landed at the Island _Juan Fernandez_ from Edward Davis's ship, about the end of the year 1687, and were left there. In 1690, the English ship Welfare, commanded by Captain John Strong, anchored at _Juan Fernandez_; of which voyage two journals have been preserved among the MSS in the Sloane Collection in the British Museum, from which the following account is taken. The Farewell arrived off the Island on the evening of October the 11th, 1690. In the night, those on board were surprised at seeing a fire on an elevated part of the land. Early next morning, a boat was sent on shore, which soon returned, bringing off from the Island two Englishmen. These were part of the five who had landed from Davis's ship. They piloted the Welfare to a good anchoring place. [Sidenote: Buccaneers who lived three years on the Island Juan Fernandez.] In the three years that they had lived on _Juan Fernandez_, they had not, until the arrival of the Welfare, seen any other ships than Spaniards, which was a great disappointment to them. The Spaniards had landed and had endeavoured to take them, but they had found concealment in the woods; one excepted, who deserted from his companions, and delivered himself up to the Spaniards. The four remaining, when they learnt that the Buccaneers had entirely quitted the _South Sea_, willingly embarked with Captain Strong, and with them four servants or slaves. Nothing is said of the manner in which they employed themselves whilst on the Island, except of their contriving subterraneous places of concealment that the Spaniards should not find them, and of their taming a great number of goats, so that at one time they had a tame stock of 300. CHAP. XXV. _Steps taken towards reducing the =Buccaneers= and =Flibustiers= under subordination to the regular Governments. War of the Grand Alliance against =France=. The Neutrality of the =Island Saint Christopher= broken._ Whilst these matters were passing in the _Pacific Ocean_, small progress was made in the reform which had been begun in the _West Indies_. The English Governors by a few examples of severity restrained the English Buccaneers from undertaking any enterprise of magnitude. With the French, the case was different. The number of the Flibustiers who absented themselves from _Hispaniola_, to go to the _South Sea_, alarmed the French Government for the safety of their colonies, and especially of their settlements in _Hispaniola_, the security and defence of which against the Spaniards they had almost wholly rested on its being the place of residence and the home of those adventurers. To persist in a rigorous police against their cruising, it was apprehended would make the rest of them quit _Hispaniola_, for which reason it was judged prudent to relax in the enforcement of the prohibitions; the Flibustiers accordingly continued their courses as usual. [Sidenote: 1686.] In 1686, Granmont and De Graaf prepared an armament against _Campeachy_. M. de Cussy, who was Governor of _Tortuga_ and the French part of _Hispaniola_, applied personally to them to relinquish their design; but as the force was collected, and all preparation made, neither the Flibustiers nor their Commanders would be dissuaded from the undertaking, and De Cussy submitted. [Sidenote: Campeachy burnt.] _Campeachy_ was plundered and burnt. A measure was adopted by the French Government which certainly trenched on the honour of the regular military establishments of _France_, but was attended with success in bringing the Flibustiers more under control and rendering them more manageable. This was, the taking into the King's service some of the principal leaders of the Flibustiers, and giving them commissions of advanced rank, either in the land service or in the French marine. [Sidenote: Granmont.] A commission was made out for Granmont, appointing him Commandant on the South coast of _Saint Domingo_, with the rank of Lieutenant du Roy. But of Granmont as a Buccaneer, it might be said in the language of sportsmen, that he was game to the last. Before the commission arrived, he received information of the honour intended him, and whilst yet in his state of liberty, was seized with the wish to make one more cruise. He armed a ship, and, with a crew of 180 Flibustiers in her, put to sea. This was near the end of the year 1686; and what afterwards became of him and his followers is not known, for they were not again seen or heard of. [Sidenote: 1687.] In the beginning of 1687, a commission arrived from _France_, appointing De Graaf Major in the King's army in the _West Indies_. He was then with a crew of Flibustiers near _Carthagena_. In this cruise, twenty-five of his men who landed in the _Gulf of Darien_, were cut off by the Darien Indians. De Graaf on his return into port accepted his commission, and when transformed to an officer in the King's army, became, like Morgan, a great scourge to the Flibustiers and _Forbans_. [Sidenote: Proclamation against Pirates.] In consequence of complaints made by the Spaniards, a Proclamation was issued at this time, by the King of _Great Britain_, James the IId, specified in the title to be 'for the more effectual reducing and suppressing of Pirates and Privateers in _America_, as well on the sea as on the land, who in great numbers have committed frequent robberies, which hath occasioned great prejudice and obstruction to Trade and Commerce.' [Sidenote: 1688.] A twenty years truce had, in the year 1686, been agreed upon between _France_ and _Spain_, but scarcely a twentieth part of that time was suffered to elapse before it was broken in the _West Indies_. [Sidenote: Danish Factory robbed by the Buccaneers.] The Flibustiers of _Hispaniola_ did not content themselves with their customary practice: in 1688 they plundered the Danish Factory at the Island _St. Thomas_, which is one of the small Islands called _the Virgins_, near the East end of _Porto Rico_. This was an aggression beyond the limits which they had professed to prescribe to their depredatory system, and it is not shewn that they had received injury at the hands of the Danes. Nevertheless, the French West-India histories say, 'Our Flibustiers (_nos Flibustiers_), in 1688, surprised the Danish Factory at _St. Thomas_. The pillage was considerable, and would have been more if they had known that the chief part of the cash was kept in a vault under the hall, which was known to very few of the house. They forgot on this occasion their ordinary practice, which is to put their prisoners to the torture to make them declare where the money is. It is certain that if they had so done, the hiding-place would have been revealed to them, in which it was believed there was more than 500,000 livres.' Such remarks shew the strong prepossession which existed in favour of the Buccaneers, and an eagerness undistinguishing and determined after the extraordinary. Qualities the most common to the whole of mankind were received as wonderful when related of the Buccaneers. One of our Encyclopedias, under the article Buccaneer, says, 'they were transported with an astonishing degree of enthusiasm whenever they saw a sail.' In this same year, 1688, war broke out in Europe between the French and Spaniards, and in a short time the English joined against the French. [Sidenote: 1689. July.] _England_ and _France_ had at no period since the Norman conquest been longer without serious quarrel. On the accession of William the IIId. to the crowns of _Great Britain_, it was generally believed that a war with _France_ would ensue. [Sidenote: The English driven from St. Christopher.] The French in the _West Indies_ did not wait for its being declared, but attacked the English part of _St. Christopher_, the Island on which by joint agreement had been made the original and confederated first settlements of the two Nations in the _West Indies_. [Sidenote: See p. 38.] The English inhabitants were driven from their possessions and obliged to retire to the Island _Nevis_, which terminated the longest preserved union which history can shew between the English and French as subjects of different nations. In the commencement it was strongly cemented by the mutual want of support against a powerful enemy; that motive for their adherence to each other had ceased to exist: yet in the reigns of Charles the IId. and James the IId. of _England_, an agreement had been made between _England_ and _France_, that if war should at any time break out between them, a neutrality should be observed by their subjects in the _West Indies_. This war continued nearly to the end of King William's reign, and during that time the English and French Buccaneers were engaged on opposite sides, as auxiliaries to the regular forces of their respective nations, which completely separated them; and it never afterwards happened that they again confederated in any buccaneer cause. They became more generally distinguished by different appellations, not consonant to their present situations and habits; for the French adventurers, who were frequently occupied in hunting and at the _boucan_, were called the Flibustiers of _St. Domingo_, and the English adventurers, who had nothing to do with the _boucan_, were called the Buccaneers of _Jamaica_. [Sidenote: 1690. July. The English retake St. Christopher.] The French had not kept possession of _St. Christopher_ quite a year, when it was taken from them by the English. This was an unfortunate year for the French, who in it suffered a great defeat from the Spaniards in _Hispaniola_. Their Governor De Cussy, and 500 Frenchmen, fell in battle, and the Town of _Cape François_ was demolished. The French Flibustiers at this time greatly annoyed _Jamaica_, making descents, in which they carried off such a number of negroes, that in derision they nicknamed _Jamaica 'Little Guinea_.' The principal transactions in the _West Indies_, were, the attempts made by each party on the possessions of the other. In the course of these services, De Graaf was accused of misconduct, tried, and deprived of his commission in the army; but though judged unfit for command in land service, out of respect to his maritime experience he was appointed Captain of a Frigate. No one among the Flibustiers was more distinguished for courage and enterprise in this war than Jean Montauban, who commanded a ship of between 30 and 40 guns. He sailed from the _West Indies_ to _Bourdeaux_ in 1694. In February of the year following, he departed from _Bourdeaux_ for the coast of _Guinea_, where in battle with an English ship of force, both the ships were blown up. Montauban and a few others escaped with their lives. This affair is not to be ranked among buccaneer exploits, _Great Britain_ and _France_ being at open War, and Montauban having a regular commission. CHAP. XXVI. _Seige and Plunder of the City of =Carthagena= on the =Terra Firma=, by an Armament from =France= in conjunction with the =Flibustiers= of =Saint Domingo=._ [Sidenote: 1697.] In 1697, at the suggestion of M. le Baron de Pointis, an officer of high rank in the French Marine, a large armament was fitted out in _France_, jointly at the expence of the Crown, and of private contributors, for an expedition against the Spaniards in the _West Indies_. The chief command was given to M. de Pointis, and orders were sent out to the Governor of the French Settlements in _Hispaniola_ (M. du Casse) to raise 1200 men in _Tortuga_ and _Hispaniola_ to assist in the expedition. The king's regular force in M. du Casse's government was small, and the men demanded were to be supplied principally from the Flibustiers. The dispatches containing the above orders arrived in January. It was thought necessary to specify to the Flibustiers a limitation of time; and they were desired to keep from dispersing till the 15th of February, it being calculated that M. de Pointis would then, or before, certainly be at _Hispaniola_. [Sidenote: March.] De Pointis, however, did not arrive till the beginning of March, when he made _Cape François_, but did not anchor there; preferring the Western part of _Hispaniola_, 'fresh water being better and more easy to be got at _Cape Tiburon_ than at any other part.' M. du Casse had, with some difficulty, kept the Flibustiers together beyond the time specified, and they were soon dissatisfied with the deportment of the Baron de Pointis, which was more imperious than they had been accustomed to from any Commander. [Sidenote: Character of the Buccaneers by M. de Pointis.] M. de Pointis published a history of his expedition, in which he relates that at the first meeting between him and M. du Casse, he expressed himself dissatisfied at the small number of men provided; 'but,' says he, 'M. du Casse assured me that the Buccaneers were at this time collected, and would every man of them perform wonders. It is the good fortune of all the pirates in these parts to be called Buccaneers. These freebooters are, for the most part, composed of those that desert from ships that come upon the coast: the advantage they bring to the Governors, protects them against the prosecution of the law. All who are apprehended as vagabonds in _France_, and can give no account of themselves, are sent to these Islands, where they are obliged to serve for three years. The first that gets them, obliges them to work in the plantations; at the end of the term of servitude, somebody lends them a gun, and to sea they go a buccaneering.' It is proper to hint here, that when M. de Pointis published his Narrative, he was at enmity with the Buccaneers, and had a personal interest in bringing the buccaneer character into disrepute. Many of his remarks upon them, nevertheless, are not less just than characteristic. He continues his description; 'They were formerly altogether independent. Of late years they have been reduced under the government of the coast of _St. Domingo_: they have commissions given them, for which they pay the tenth of all prizes, and are now called the King's subjects. The Governors of our settlements in _Saint Domingo_ being enriched by them, do mightily extol them for the damages they do to the Spaniards. This infamous profession which an impunity for all sorts of crimes renders so much beloved, has within a few years lost us above six thousand men, who might have improved and peopled the colony. At present they are pleased to be called the King's subjects; yet it is with so much arrogance, as obliges all who are desirous to make use of them, to court them in the most flattering terms. This was not agreeable to my disposition, and considering them as his Majesty's subjects which the Governor was ordered to deliver to me, I plainly told them that they should find me a Commander to lead them on, but not as a companion to them.' The expedition, though it was not yet made known, or even yet pretended to be determined, against what place it should be directed, was expected to yield both honour and profit. The Buccaneers would not quarrel with a promising enterprise under a spirited and experienced commander, for a little haughtiness in his demeanour towards them; but they demanded to have clearly specified the share of the prize money and plunder to which they should be entitled, and it was stipulated by mutual agreement 'that the Flibustiers and Colonists should, man for man, have the same shares of booty that were allowed to the men on board the King's ships.' As so many men were to embark from M. du Casse's government, he proposed to go at their head, and desired to know of M. de Pointis what rank would be allowed him. M. du Casse was a mariner by profession, and had the rank of Captain in the French Navy. De Pointis told him that the highest character he knew him in, was that which he derived from his commission as _Capitaine de Vaisseau_, and that if he embarked in the expedition, he must be content to serve in that quality according to his seniority. M. du Casse nevertheless chose to go, though it was generally thought he was not allowed the honours and consideration which were his due as Governor of the French Colonies at _St. Domingo_, and Commander of so large a portion of the men engaged in the expedition. It was settled, that the Flibustiers should embark partly in their own cruising vessels, and partly on board the ships of M. de Pointis' squadron, and should be furnished with six weeks provisions. A review was made, to prevent any but able men of the Colony being taken; negroes who served, if free, were to be allowed shares like other men; if slaves and they were killed, their masters were to be paid for them. Two copies of the agreement respecting the sharing of booty were posted up in public places at _Petit Goave_, and a copy was delivered to M. du Casse, the Governor. M. de Pointis consulted with M. du Casse what enterprise they should undertake, but the determination wholly rested with M. de Pointis. 'There was added,' M. de Pointis says, 'without my knowledge, to the directions sent to Governor du Casse, that he was to give assistance to our undertaking, without damage to, or endangering, his Colony. This restriction did in some measure deprive me of the power of commanding his forces, seeing he had an opportunity of pretending to keep them for the preservation of the Colony.' M. du Casse made no pretences to withhold, but gave all the assistance in his power. He was an advocate for attacking the City of _San Domingo_. This was the wish of most of the colonists, and perhaps was what would have been of more advantage to _France_ than any other expedition they could have undertaken. But the armament having been prepared principally at private expence, it was reasonable for the contributors to look to their own reimbursement. To attack the City of _San Domingo_ was not approved; other plans were proposed, but _Carthagena_ seems to have been the original object of the projectors of the expedition, and the attack of that city was determined upon. Before the Flibustiers and other colonists embarked, a disagreement happened which had nearly made them refuse altogether to join in the expedition. The officers of De Pointis' fleet had imbibed the sentiments of their Commander respecting the Flibustiers or Buccaneers, and followed the example of his manners towards them. The fleet was lying at _Petit Goave_, and M. de Pointis, giving to himself the title of General of the Armies of _France_ by Sea and by Land in _America_, had placed a guard in a Fort there. M. du Casse, as he had received no orders from _Europe_ to acknowledge any superior within his government, might have considered such an exercise of power to be an encroachment on his authority which it became him to resist; but he acted in this, and in other instances, like a man overawed. The officer of M. de Pointis who commanded the guard on shore, arrested a Flibustier for disorderly behaviour, and held him prisoner in the fort. The Flibustiers surrounded the fort in a tumultuous manner to demand his release, and the officer commanded his men to fire upon them, by which three of the Flibustiers were killed. It required some address and civility on the part of M. de Pointis himself, as well as the assistance of M. du Casse, to appease the Flibustiers; and the officer who had committed the offence was sent on board under arrest. The force furnished from M. du Casse's government, consisted of nearly 700 Flibustiers, 170 soldiers from the garrisons, and as many volunteer inhabitants and negroes as made up about 1200 men. The whole armament consisted of seven large ships, and eleven frigates, besides store ships and smaller vessels; and, reckoning persons of all classes, 6000 men. [Sidenote: April. Siege of Carthagena by the French.] The Fleet arrived off _Carthagena_ on April the 13th, and the landing was effected on the 15th. It is not necessary to relate all the particulars of this siege, in which the Buccaneers bore only a part. That part however was of essential importance. M. de Pointis, in the commencement, appointed the whole of the Flibustiers, without any mixture of the King's troops, to a service of great danger, which raised a suspicion, of partiality and of an intention to save the men he brought with him from _Europe_, as regarding them to be more peculiarly his own men. An eminence about a mile to the Eastward of the City of _Carthagena_, on which was a church named _Nuestra Senora de la Poupa_, commands all the avenues and approaches on the land side to the city. 'I had been assured,' says M. de Pointis, 'that if we did not seize the hill _de la Poupa_ immediately on our arrival, all the treasure would be carried off. To get possession of this post, I resolved to land the Buccaneers in the night of the same day on which we came to anchor, they being proper for such an attempt, as being accustomed to marching and subsisting in the woods.' M. de Pointis takes this occasion to accuse the Buccaneers of behaving less heroically than M. du Casse had boasted they would, and that it was not without murmuring that they embarked in the boats in order to their landing. It is however due to them on the score of courage and exertion, to remark, though in some degree it is anticipation, that no part of the force under M. de Pointis shewed more readiness or performed better service in the siege than the Buccaneers. There was uncertainty about the most proper place for landing, and M. de Pointis went himself in a boat to examine near the shore to the North of the city. The surf rolled in heavy, by which his boat was filled, and was with difficulty saved from being stranded on a rock. The proposed landing was given up as impracticable, and M. de Pointis became of opinion that _Carthagena_ was approachable only by the lake which makes the harbour, the entrance to which, on account of its narrowness, was called the _Bocca-chica_, and was defended by a strong fort. The Fleet sailed for the _Bocca-chica_, and on the 15th some of the ships began to cannonade the Fort. The first landing was effected at the same time by a corps of eighty negroes, without any mixture of the King's troops. This was a second marked instance of the Commander's partial attention to the preservation of the men he brought from _France_. M. de Pointis despised the Flibustiers, and probably regarded negroes as next to nothing. He was glad however to receive them as his companions in arms, and it was an honour due from him to all under his command, as far as circumstances would admit without injury to service, to share the dangers equally, or at least without partiality. The 16th, which was the day next after the landing, the Castle of _Bocca-chica_ surrendered. This was a piece of good fortune much beyond expectation, and was obtained principally by the dexterous management of a small party of the Buccaneers; which drew commendation even from M. de Pointis. 'Among the chiefs of these Buccaneers,' he says, 'there may be about twenty men who deserve to be distinguished for their courage; it not being my intention to comprehend them in the descriptions which I make of the others.' [Sidenote: May. The City capitulates.] De Pointis conducted the siege with diligence and spirit. The _Nuestra Senora de la Poupa_ was taken possession of on the 17th; and on the 3d of May, the City capitulated. The terms of the Capitulation were, That all public effects and office accounts should be delivered to the captors. That merchants should produce their books of accounts, and deliver up all money and effects held by them for their correspondents. That every inhabitant should be free to leave the city, or to remain in his dwelling. That those who retired from the city should first deliver up all their property there to the captors. That those who chose to remain, should declare faithfully, under penalty of entire confiscation, the gold, silver, and jewels, in their possession; on which condition, and delivering up one half, they should be permitted to retain the other half, and afterwards be regarded as subjects of _France_. That the churches and religious houses should be spared and protected. The French General on entering the Town with his troops, went first to the cathedral to attend the _Te Deum_. He next sent for the Superiors of the convents and religious houses, to whom he explained the meaning of the article of the capitulation promising them protection, which was, that their houses should not be destroyed; but that it had no relation to money in their possession, which they were required to deliver up. Otherwise, he observed, it would be in their power to collect in their houses all the riches of the city. He caused it to be publicly rumoured that he was directed by the Court to keep possession of _Carthagena_, and that it would be made a French Colony. To give colour to this report, he appointed M. du Casse to be Governor of the City. He strictly prohibited the troops from entering any house until it had undergone the visitation of officers appointed by himself, some of which officers it was supposed, embezzled not less than 100,000 crowns each. A reward was proclaimed for informers of concealed treasure, of one-tenth of all treasure discovered by them. 'The hope of securing a part, with the fear of bad neighbours and false friends, induced the inhabitants to be forward in disclosing their riches, and Tilleul who was charged with receiving the treasure, was not able to weigh the specie fast enough.' M. du Casse, in the exercise of what he conceived to be the duties of his new office of Governor of _Carthagena_, had begun to take cognizance of the money which the inhabitants brought in according to the capitulation; but M. de Pointis was desirous that he should not be at any trouble on that head. High words passed between them, in consequence of which, Du Casse declined further interference in what was transacting, and retired to a house in the suburbs. This was quitting the field to an antagonist who would not fail to make his advantage of it; whose refusal to admit other witnesses to the receipt of money than those of his own appointment, was a strong indication, whatever contempt he might profess or really feel for the Flibustiers, that he was himself of as stanch Flibustier principles as any one of the gentry of the coast. Some time afterwards, however, M. du Casse thought proper to send a formal representation to the General, that it was nothing more than just that some person of the colony should be present at the receipt of the money. The General returned answer, that what M. du Casse proposed, was in itself a matter perfectly indifferent; but that it would be an insult to his own dignity, and therefore he could not permit it. The public collection of plunder by authority did not save the city from private pillage. In a short time all the plate disappeared from the churches. Houses were forcibly entered by the troops, and as much violence committed as if no capitulation had been granted. M. de Pointis, when complained to by the aggrieved inhabitants, gave orders for the prevention of outrage, but was at no pains to make them observed. It appears that the Flibustiers were most implicated in these disorders. Many of the inhabitants who had complied with the terms of the capitulation, seeing the violences every where committed, hired Flibustiers to be guards in their houses, hoping that by being well paid they would be satisfied and protect them against others. Some observed this compact and were faithful guardians; but the greater number robbed those they undertook to defend. For this among other reasons, De Pointis resolved to rid the city of them. On a report, which it is said himself caused to be spread, that an army of 10,000 Indians were approaching _Carthagena_, he ordered the Flibustiers out to meet them. Without suspecting any deception, they went forth, and were some days absent seeking the reported enemy. As they were on the return, a message met them from the General, purporting, that he apprehended their presence in the city would occasion some disturbance, and he therefore desired them to stop without the gates. On receiving this message, they broke out into imprecations, and resolved not to delay their return to the city, nor to be kept longer in ignorance of what was passing there. When they arrived at the gates they found them shut and guarded by the King's troops. Whilst they deliberated on what they should next do, another message, more conciliating in language than the former, came to them from M. de Pointis, in which he said that it was by no means his intention to interdict them from entering _Carthagena_; that he only wished they would not enter so soon, nor all at one time, for fear of frightening the inhabitants, who greatly dreaded their presence. The Flibustiers knew not how to help themselves, and were necessitated to take up their quarters without the city walls, where they were kept fifteen days, by which time the collection of treasure from the inhabitants was completed, the money weighed, secured in chests, and great part embarked. De Pointis says, 'as fast as the money was brought in, it was immediately carried on board the King's ships.' The uneasiness and impatience of the Flibustiers for distribution of the booty may easily be imagined. On their re-admission to the city, the merchandise was put up to sale by auction, and the produce joined to the former collection; but no distribution took place, and the Flibustiers were loud in their importunities. M. de Pointis assigned as a reason for the delay, that the clerks employed in the business had not made up the accounts. He says in his Narrative, 'I was not so ill served by my spies as not to be informed of the seditious discourses held by some wholly abandoned to their own interest, upon the money being carried on board the King's ships.' To allay the ferment, he ordered considerable gratifications to be paid to the Buccaneer captains, also compensations to the Buccaneers who had been maimed or wounded, and rewards to be given to some who had most distinguished themselves during the siege;--and he spoke with so much appearance of frankness of his intention, as soon as ever he should receive the account of the whole, to make a division which should be satisfactory to all parties, that the Buccaneers were persuaded to remain quiet. [Sidenote: Value of the Plunder.] The value of the plunder is variously reported. Much of the riches of the city had been carried away on the first alarm of the approach of an enemy. De Pointis says 110 mules laden with gold went out in the course of four days. 'Nevertheless, the honour acquired to his Majesty's arms, besides near eight or nine millions that could not escape us, consoled us for the rest.' Whether these eight or nine millions were crowns or livres M. de Pointis' account does not specify. It is not improbable he meant it should be understood as livres. Many were of opinion that the value of the booty was not less than forty millions of livres; M. du Casse estimated it at above twenty millions, besides merchandise. M. de Pointis now made known that on account of the unhealthiness of the situation, he had changed his intention of leaving a garrison and keeping _Carthagena_, for that already more Frenchmen had died there by sickness than he had lost in the siege. He ordered the cannon of the _Bocca-chica Castle_ to be taken on board the ships, and the Castle to be demolished. On the 25th of May, orders were issued for the troops to embark; and at the same time he embarked himself without having given any previous notice of his intention so to do to M. du Casse, from whom he had parted but a few minutes before. The ships of the King's fleet began to take up their anchors to move towards the entrance of the harbour, and M. de. Pointis sent an order to M. du Casse for the Buccaneers and the people of the Colony to embark on board their own vessels. M. du Casse sent two of his principal officers to the General to demand that justice should be done to the Colonists. Still the accounts were said not to be ready; but on the 29th, the King's fleet being ready for sea, M. du Pointis sent to M. du Casse the Commissary's account, which stated the share of the booty due to the Colonists, including the Governor and the Buccaneers, to be 40,000 crowns. What the customary manner of dividing prize money in the French navy was at that time, is not to be understood from the statement given by De Pointis, which says, 'that the King had been pleased to allow to the several ships companies, a tenth of the first million, and a thirtieth part of all the rest.' Here it is not specified whether the million of which the ships companies were to be allowed one-tenth, is to be understood a million of _Louis_, a million crowns, or a million livres. The difference of construction in a large capture would be nearly as three to one. It requires explanation likewise what persons are meant to be included in the term 'ships companies.' Sometimes it is used to signify the common seamen, without including the officers; and for them, the one-tenth is certainly not too large a share. That in any military service, public or private, one-tenth of captures or of plunder should be deemed adequate gratification for the services of all the captors, officers included, seems scarcely credible. In the _Carthagena_ expedition it is also to be observed, that the dues of the crown were in some measure compromised by the admission of private contributions towards defraying the expence. The Flibustiers had contributed by furnishing their own vessels to the service. Du Casse when he saw the account, did not immediately communicate it to his Colonists, deterred at first probably by something like shame, and an apprehension that they would reproach him with weakness for having yielded so much as he had all along done to the insulting and imperious pretensions of De Pointis. Afterwards through discretion, he delayed making the matter public until the Colonists had all embarked and their vessels had sailed from the city. He then sent for the Captains, and acquainted them with the distribution intended by M. de Pointis, and they informed their crews. CHAP. XXVII. _Second Plunder of =Carthagena=. Peace of =Ryswick, in 1697=. Entire Suppression of the =Buccaneers= and =Flibustiers=._ [Sidenote: 1697. May.] The share which M. de Pointis had allotted of the plunder of _Carthagena_ to the Buccaneers, fell so short of their calculations, and was felt as so great an aggravation of the contemptuous treatment they had before received, that their rage was excessive, and in their first transports they proposed to board the Sceptre, a ship of 84 guns, on board which M. de Pointis carried his flag. This was too desperate a scheme to be persevered in. After much deliberation, one among them exclaimed, 'It is useless to trouble ourselves any farther about such a villain as De Pointis; let him go with what he has got; he has left us our share at _Carthagena_, and thither we must return to seek it.' The proposition was received with general applause by these remorseless robbers, whose desire for vengeance on De Pointis was all at once obliterated by the mention of an object that awakened their greediness for plunder. They got their vessels under sail, and stood back to the devoted city, doomed by them to pay the forfeit for the dishonesty of their countryman. The matter was consulted and determined upon without M. du Casse being present, and the ship in which he had embarked was left by the rest without company. When he perceived what they were bent upon, he sent orders to them to desist, which he accompanied with a promise to demand redress for them in _France_; but neither the doubtful prospect of distant redress held out, nor respect for his orders, had any effect in restraining them. M. du Casse sent an officer to M. de Pointis, who had not yet sailed from the entrance of _Carthagena Harbour_, to inform him that the Buccaneers, in defiance of all order and in breach of the capitulation which had been granted to the city, were returning thither to plunder it again; but M. de Pointis in sending the Commissary's account had closed his intercourse with the Buccaneers and with the Colonists, at least for the remainder of his expedition. M. du Casse's officer was told that the General was so ill that he could not be spoken with. The Officer went to the next senior Captain in command of the fleet, who, on being informed of the matter, said, 'the Buccaneers were great rogues, and ought to be hanged;' but as no step could be taken to prevent the mischief, without delaying the sailing of the fleet, the chief commanders of which were impatient to see their booty in a place of greater security, none was taken, and [Sidenote: June.] on the 1st of June the King's fleet sailed for _France_, leaving _Carthagena_ to the discretion of the Buccaneers. M. de Pointis claims being ignorant of what was transacting. 'On the 30th of May,' he says, 'I was taken so ill, that all I could do, before I fell into a condition that deprived me of my intellect, was to acquaint Captain Levi that I committed the care of the squadron to him.' If M. de Pointis acted fairly by the people who came from _France_ and returned with him, it must be supposed that in his sense of right and wrong he held the belief, that 'to rob a rogue is no breach of honesty.' But it was said of him, '_Il etoit capable de former un grand dessein, et de rien epargner pour le faire réussir_;' the English phrase for which is, 'he would stick at nothing.' On the 1st of June, M. du Casse also sailed from _Carthagena_ to return to _St. Domingo_. Thus were the Flibustiers abandoned to their own will by all the authorities whose duty it was to have restrained them. The inhabitants of _Carthagena_ seeing the buccaneer ships returning to the city, waited in the most anxious suspense to learn the cause. The Flibustiers on landing, seized on all the male inhabitants they could lay hold of, and shut them up in the great church. They posted up a kind of manifesto in different parts of the city, setting forth the justice of their second invasion of _Carthagena_, which they grounded on the perfidy of the French General De Pointis ('_que nous vous permettons de charger de toutes les maledictions imaginables_,') and on their own necessities. Finally, they demanded five millions of livres as the price of their departing again without committing disorder. It seems strange that the Buccaneers could expect to raise so much money in a place so recently plundered. Nevertheless, by terrifying their prisoners, putting some to the torture, ransacking the tombs, and other means equally abhorrent, in four days time they had nearly made up the proposed sum. It happened that two Flibustiers killed two women of _Carthagena_ in some manner, or under some circumstances, that gave general offence, and raised indignation in the rest of the Flibustiers, who held a kind of trial and condemned them to be shot, which was done in presence of many of the inhabitants. The Buccaneer histories praise this as an act of extraordinary justice, and a set-off against their cruelties and robberies, such as gained them the esteem even of the Spaniards. The punishment, however merited, was a matter of caprice. It is no where pretended that they ever made a law to themselves to forbid their murdering their prisoners; in very many instances they had not refrained, and in no former instance had it been attended with punishment. The putting these two murderers to death therefore, as it related to themselves, was an arbitrary and lawless act. If the women had been murdered for the purpose of coming at their money, it could not have incurred blame from the rest. These remarks are not intended in disapprobation of the act, which was very well; but too highly extolled. Having almost completed their collection, they began to dispute about the division, the Flibustiers pretending that the more regular settlers of the colony (being but landsmen) were not entitled to an equal share with themselves, when a bark arrived from _Martinico_ which was sent expressly to give them notice that a fleet of English and Dutch ships of war had just arrived in the _West Indies_. This news made them hasten their departure, and shortened or put an end to their disputes; for previous to sailing, they made a division of the gold and silver, in which each man shared nearly a thousand crowns; the merchandise and negroes being reserved for future division, and which it was expected would produce much more. The Commanders of the English and Dutch squadrons, on arriving at _Barbadoes_, learnt that the French had taken _Carthagena_. They sailed on for that place, and had almost reached it, when they got sight of De Pointis' squadron, to which they gave chase, but which escaped from them by superior sailing. [Sidenote: An English and Dutch Squadron fall in with the Buccaneers.] On the 3d or 4th of June, the Flibustiers sailed from _Carthagena_ in nine vessels, and had proceeded thirty leagues of their route towards _Hispaniola_, when they came in sight of the English and Dutch fleet. They dispersed, every one using his best endeavours to save himself by flight. The two richest ships were taken; two were driven on shore and wrecked, one of them near _Carthagena_, and her crew fell into the hands of the Spaniards, who would have been justified in treating them as pirates; but they were only made to work on the fortifications. The five others had the good fortune to reach _Isle Avache_. To conclude the history of the Carthagena expedition, a suit was instituted in _France_ against M. de Pointis and the _armateurs_, in behalf of the Colonists and Flibustiers, and a decree was obtained in their favour for 1,400,000 livres; but the greater part of the sum was swallowed up by the expenses of the suit, and the embezzlements of agents. The Carthagena expedition was the last transaction in which the Flibustiers or Buccaneers made a conspicuous figure. It turned out to their disadvantage in many respects; but chiefly in stripping them of public favour. [Sidenote: September. Peace of Ryswick.] In September 1697, an end was put to the war, by a Treaty signed at _Ryswick_. By this treaty, the part of the Island _St. Christopher_ which had belonged to the French was restored to them. In earlier times, peace, by releasing the Buccaneers from public demands on their services, left them free to pursue their own projects, with an understood license or privilege to cruise or form any other enterprise against the Spaniards, without danger of being subjected to enquiry; but the aspect of affairs in this respect was now greatly altered. [Sidenote: Causes which led to the suppression of the Buccaneers.] The Treaty of 1670 between _Great Britain_ and _Spain_, with the late alliance of those powers against _France_, had put an end to buccaneering in _Jamaica_; the scandal of the second plunder of _Carthagena_ lay heavy on the Flibustiers of _St. Domingo_; and a circumstance in which both _Great Britain_ and _France_ were deeply interested, went yet more strongly to the entire suppression of the cruisings of the Buccaneers, and to the dissolution of their piratical union; which was, the King of _Spain_, Charles the IId. being in a weak state of health, without issue, and the succession to the crown of _Spain_ believed to depend upon his will. On this last account, the kings of _Great Britain_ and _France_ were earnest in their endeavours to give satisfaction to _Spain_. Louis XIV. sent back from _France_ to _Carthagena_ the silver ornaments of which the churches there had been stripped; and distinction was no longer admitted in the French Settlements between Flibustier and Pirate. The Flibustiers themselves had grown tired of preserving the distinction; for after the Peace of _Ryswick_ had been fully notified in the _West Indies_, they continued to seize and plunder the ships of the English and Dutch, till complaint was made to the French Governor of _Saint Domingo_, M. du Casse, who thought proper to make indemnification to the sufferers. Fresh prohibitions and proclamations were issued, and _encouragement_ was given to the adventurers to become planters. The French were desirous to obtain permission to trade in the Spanish ports of the _Terra Firma_. Charlevoix says, 'the Spaniards were charmed by the sending back the ornaments taken from the churches at _Carthagena_, and it was hoped to gain them entirely by putting a stop to the cruisings of the Flibustiers. The commands of the King were strict and precise on this head; that the Governor should persuade the Flibustiers to make themselves inhabitants, and in default of prevailing by persuasion, to use force.' Many Flibustiers and Buccaneers did turn planters, or followed their profession of mariner in the ships of merchants. Attachment to old habits, difficulties in finding employment, and being provided with vessels fit for cruising, made many persist in their former courses. The evil most grievously felt by them was their proscribed state, which left them no place in the _West Indies_ where they might riot with safety and to their liking, in the expenditure of their booty. Not having the same inducement as formerly to limit themselves to the plundering one people, they extended their scope of action, and robbed vessels of all nations. Most of those who were in good vessels, quitted the West Indian Seas, and went roving to different parts of the world. Mention is made of pirates or buccaneers being in the _South Sea_ in the year 1697, but their particular deeds are not related; and Robert Drury, who was shipwrecked at _Madagascar_ in the year 1702, relates, 'King Samuel's messenger then desired to know what they demanded for me? To which, Deaan Crindo sent word that they required two _buccaneer_ guns.' At the time of the Peace of _Ryswick_, the Darien Indians, having quarrelled with the Spaniards, had become reconciled to the Flibustiers, and several of the old Flibustiers afterwards settled on the _Isthmus_ and married Darien women. [Sidenote: Providence Island.] One of the _Lucayas_, or _Bahama Islands_, had been settled by the English, under the name of _Providence Island_. It afforded good anchorage, and the strength of the settlement was small, which were conveniencies to pirates that induced them to frequent it; and, according to the proverbial effect of evil communication, the inhabitants were tempted to partake of their plunder, and assist in their robberies, by purchasing their prize goods, and supplying them with all kinds of stores and necessaries. This was for several years so gainful a business to the Settlement, as to cause it to be proverbial in the _West Indies_; that 'Shipwrecks and Pirates were the only hopes of the _Island Providence_.' [Sidenote: 1700-1. Accession of Philip Vth. to the Throne of Spain.] In three years after the Peace of _Ryswick_, Charles the IId of Spain died, and a Prince of the House of Bourbon mounted the Spanish Throne, which produced a close union of interests between _France_ and _Spain_. The ports of Spanish America, both in the _West Indies_ and in the _South Sea_, were laid open to the merchants of _France_. The _Noticia de las Expediciones al Magalhanes_ notices the great resort of the French to the _Pacific Ocean_, 'who in an extraordinary manner enriched themselves during the war of the Spanish succession.' In the French Settlements in the _West Indies_ the name of Flibustier, because it implied enmity to the Spaniards, was no longer tolerated. On the breaking out of the war between _Great Britain_ and _France_ which followed the Spanish succession, the English drove the French out of _St. Christopher_, and it has since remained wholly to _Great Britain_. M. le Comte de Gennes, a Commander in the French Navy, who a few years before had made an unsuccessful voyage to the _Strait of Magalhanes_, was the Governor of the French part of the Island at the time of the surrender[90]. During this war, the Governors of _Providence_ exercised their authority in granting commissions, or _letters of reprisal_; and created Admiralty Courts, for the _condemnation_ of captured vessels: for under some of the Governors no vessels brought to the adjudication of the Court escaped that sentence. These were indirect acts of piracy. The last achievement related of the Flibustiers, happened in 1702, when a party of Englishmen, having commission from the Governor of _Jamaica_, landed on the _Isthmus_ near the _Samballas Isles_, where they were joined by some of the old Flibustiers who lived among the Darien Indians, and also by 300 of the Indians. They marched to some mines from which they drove the Spaniards, and took 70 negroes. They kept the negroes at work in the mines twenty-one days; but in all this exploit they obtained no more than about eighty pounds weight of gold. Here then terminates the History of the Buccaneers of _America_. Their distinctive mark, which they undeviatingly preserved nearly two centuries, was, their waging constant war against the Spaniards, and against them only. Many peculiarities have been attributed to the Buccaneers in other respects, some of which can apply only to their situation as hunters of cattle, and some existed rather in the writer's fancy than in reality. Mariners are generally credited for being more eccentric in their caprices than other men; which, if true, is to be accounted for by the circumstances of their profession; and it happens that they are most subjected to observation at the times when they are fresh in the possession of liberty and money, earned by long confinement and labour. It may be said of the Buccaneers that they were, in general, courageous according to the character of their leader; often rash, alternately negligent and vigilant, and always addicted to pleasure and idleness. It will help to illustrate the manners and qualifications of the Buccaneers in the _South Sea_, to give an extract from the concluding part of Dampier's manuscript journal of his Voyage round the World with the Buccaneers, and will also establish a fact which has been mentioned before only as a matter surmised[91]. Dampier says, [Sidenote: Extract from Dampier.] 'September the 20th, 1691, arrived in the _Downs_ to my great joy and satisfaction, having in my voyage ran clear round the Globe.--I might have been master of the ship we first sailed in if I would have accepted it, for it was known to most men on board that I kept a Journal, and all that knew me did ever judge my accounts were kept as correct as any man's. Besides, that most, if not all others who kept journals in the voyage, lost them before they got to _Europe_, whereas I preserved my writing. Yet I see that some men are not so well pleased with my account as if it came from any of the Commanders that were in the _South Sea_, though most of them, I think all but Captain Swan, were incapable of keeping a sea journal, and took no account of any action, neither did they make any observations. But I am only to answer for myself, and if I have not given satisfaction to my friends in what I have written, the fault is in the meanness of my information, and not in me who have been faithful as to what came to my knowledge.' Countenanced as the Buccaneers were, it is not in the least surprising that they became so numerous. With the same degree of encouragement at the present time, the Seas would be filled with such adventurers. It was fortunate for the Spaniards, and perhaps for the other maritime Nations of _Europe_, that the Buccaneers did not make conquest and settlement so much their object as they did plunder; and that they took no step towards making themselves independent, whilst it was in their power. Among their Chiefs were some of good capacity; but only two of them, Mansvelt and Morgan, appear to have contemplated any scheme of regular settlement independent of the European Governments, and the time was then gone by. Before _Tortuga_ was taken possession of for the Crown of _France_, such a project might have been undertaken with great advantage. The English and French Buccaneers were then united; _England_ was deeply engaged and fully occupied by a civil war; and the jealousy which the Spaniards entertained of the encroachments of the French in the _West Indies_, kept at a distance all probability of their coalescing to suppress the Buccaneers. If they had chosen at that time to have formed for themselves any regular mode of government, it appears not very improbable that they might have become a powerful independent State. In the history of so much robbery and outrage, the rapacity shewn in some instances by the European Governments in their West-India transactions, and by Governors of their appointment, appears in a worse light than that of the Buccaneers, from whom, they being professed ruffians, nothing better was expected. The superior attainments of Europeans, though they have done much towards their own civilization, chiefly in humanising their institutions, have, in their dealings with the inhabitants of the rest of the globe, with few exceptions, been made the instruments of usurpation and extortion. After the suppression of the Buccaneers, and partly from their relicks, arose a race of pirates of a more desperate cast, so rendered by the increased danger of their occupation, who for a number of years preyed upon the commerce of all nations, till they were hunted down, and, it may be said, exterminated. Of one crew of pirates who were brought before a Court of Justice, fifty-two men were condemned and executed at one time, in the year 1722. FINIS. FOOTNOTES: [1] _Lebreles de pressa._ [2] The name _Saint Domingo_ was afterwards applied to the whole Island by the French, who, whilst they contested the possession with the Spaniards, were desirous to supersede the use of the name _Española_ or _Hispaniola_. [3] _Historia General de las Indias_, por _Gonç. Hernandez de Oviedo_, lib. 19. cap. 13. Also _Hakluyt_, vol. iii. p. 499, edit. 1600. [4] _Camden's Elizabeth_, A. D. 1680. [5] _Hist. des Antilles, par P. du Tertre._ Paris, 1667. Tome I. p. 415. [6] _La Rochefort, sur le Repas des Carribes._ [7] _History of Brasil, by Robert Southey_, p. 17. [8] In some of the English accounts the name is written _Bucanier_; but uniformity in spelling was not much attended to at that time. Dampier wrote _Buccaneer_, which agrees with the present manner of pronouncing the word, and is to be esteemed the best authority. [9] The French account says, that after taking possession of _Tortuga_, the Adventurers divided into three classes: that those who occupied themselves in the chase, took the name of Boucaniers; those who went on cruises, the name of Flibustiers; and a third class, who cultivated the soil, called themselves _Habitans_ (Inhabitants.) See _Histoire des Avanturiers qui se sont signalez dans les Indes. Par. Alex. Ol. Oexmelin_. Paris 1688, vol. i. p. 22. [10] The Governor or Admiral, who granted the commission, claimed one tenth of all prizes made under its authority. [11] It is proper to mention, that an erroneously printed date, in the English edition of the _Buccaneers of America_, occasioned a mistake to be made in the account given of Narbrough's Voyage, respecting the time the Buccaneers kept possession of _Panama_. See Vol. III. of _Voyages and Discoveries in the South Sea_, p. 374. [12] _Theatro Naval Hydrographico._ Cap. xi. See also of Peche, in Vol. III. of _South Sea Voyages and Discoveries_, p. 392. [13] _Not. de las Exp. Magal._ p. 268, of _Ult. Viage al Estrecho_. [14] _Buccaneers of America_, Part III. Ch. xi. [15] 'They never forfeit their word. The King has his commission from the Governor of _Jamaica_, and at every new Governor's arrival, they come over to know his pleasure. The King of the Mosquitos was received by his Grace the Duke of Portland (Governor of _Jamaica_, A. D. 1722-3) with that courtesy which was natural to him, and with more ceremony than seemed to be due to a Monarch who held his sovereignty by commission.'--'The Mosquito Indians had a victory over the Spanish Indians about 30 years ago, and cut off a number; but gave a Negro who was with them, his life purely on account of his speaking English.' _History of Jamaica._ London 1774. Book i. Ch, 12. And _British Empire in America_, Vol. II. pp. 367 & 371. [16] _Case of His Majesty's Subjects upon the Mosquito Shore, most humbly submitted_, &c. London, 1789. [17] _Narrative by Basil Ringrose_, p. 5. [18] _De Rochfort_ describes this animal under the name _Javaris_. _Hist. Nat. des Isles Antilles_, p. 138, edit. 1665. It is also described by _Pennant_, in his _Synopsis of Quadrupeds_, Art. _Mexican Wild Hog_. [19] _Ringrose._ _Buccaneers of America_, Part IV. p. 10. The early morning drum has, in our time, been called the _Reveiller_. Either that or _a travailler_ seems applicable; for according to _Boyer_, _travailler_ signifies to trouble, or disturb, as well as to work; and it is probable, from the age of the authority above cited, that the original term was _à travailler_. [20] _Narrative by Basil Ringrose_, p. 3. [21] _Ringrose_, p. 11. [22] _Ringrose_, Chap. ix. [23] No. 48 in the same collection is a manuscript copy of Ringrose's Journal, but varied in the same manner from the Original as the printed Narrative. [24] _Ringrose_, p. 44. [25] _Ringrose_ and _Sharp_. [26] _Sharp's Journal_, p. 72. [27] _Buccaneers of America_, Part III, p. 80. [28] Nos. 239. and 44. in the _Sloane Collection of Manuscripts_ in the _British Museum_, are probably the charts and translation spoken of above. No. 239. is a book of Spanish charts of the sea-coast of _New Spain_, _Peru_, and _Chili_, each chart containing a small portion of coast, on which is drawn a rude likeness of the appearance of the land, making it at the same time both landscape and chart. They are generally without compass, latitude, or divisions of any kind by lines, and with no appearance of correctness, but apparently with knowledge of the coast.--No. 44. is a copy of the same, or of similar Spanish charts of the same coast, and is dedicated to King Charles II. by Bartholomew Sharp. [29] _Sharp's Manuscript Journal. Brit. Mus._ [30] Morgan continued in office at _Jamaica_ during the remainder of the reign of King Charles the IId.; but was suspected by the Spaniards of connivance with the Buccaneers, and in the next reign, the Court of _Spain_ had influence to procure his being sent home prisoner from the _West Indies_. He was kept three years in prison; but without charge being brought forward against him. [31] _British Empire in America_, Vol. II. p. 319. [32] _Dampier_, Vol. I, p. 73. [33] In the Sloane Collection, _Brit. Mus._ [34] _Cowley's MS. Journal. Sloane Collection_, No. 54. [35] See also _Pernety's Journal_, p. 179, English translation. [36] _Dampier's Manuscript Journal_, No. 3236, _Sloane Collection, British Museum_. [37] The writer of Commodore Anson's Voyage informs us that Juan Fernandez resided some time on the Island, and afterwards abandoned it. [38] _Dampier's Voyages_, Vol. I, Chap. 5. [39] The latter part of the above extract is from Cowley's Manuscript.--Captain Colnet when at the _Galapagos_ made a similar remark. He says, 'I was perplexed to form a conjecture how the small birds which appeared to remain in one spot, supported themselves without water; but some of our men informed me that as they were reposing beneath a prickly pear-tree, they observed an old bird in the act of supplying three young ones with drink, by squeezing the berry of a tree into their mouths. It was about the size of a pea, and contained a watery juice of an acid and not unpleasant taste. The bark of the tree yields moisture, and being eaten allays the thirst. The land tortoise gnaw and suck it. The leaf of this tree is like that of the bay-tree, the fruit grows like cherries; the juice of the bark dies the flesh of a deep purple.' _Colnet's Voyage to the South Sea_, p. 53. [40] _Dampier_, Vol. I, p. 112. [41] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 5. This description does not agree with the Spanish Charts; but no complete regular survey appears yet to have been made of the Coast of _New Spain_. [42] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 5. [43] _Ibid._ [44] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 6. [45] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 6. To search for this wreck with a view to recover the treasure in her, was one of the objects of an expedition from _England_ to the _South Sea_, which was made a few years subsequent to this Buccaneer expedition. [46] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 6. [47] _Manuscript Journal in the Sloane Collection._ [48] See _Cowley's Voyage_, p. 34. Also, Vol. III. of _South Sea Discoveries_, p. 305. [49] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 6. [50] Dampier. [51] _Wafer's Voyages_, p. 196. [52] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 7. [53] _Journal du Voyage au Mer du Sud, par Rav. de Lussan_, p. 25. [54] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 8. [55] _Dampier._ [56] _Voyage and Description_, &c. _by Lionel Wafer_, p. 191, and seq. London, 1699. [57] _Dampier. Manuscript Journal._ [58] _Wafer's Voyages_, p. 208. [59] _Colnet's Voyage to the Pacific_, pp. 156-7. [60] _Journal of a Cruize to the Pacific Ocean, by Captain David Porter, in the years 1812-13 & 1814._ [61] _Cruising Voyage round the World, by Captain Woodes Rogers, in the years 1708 to 1711_, pp. 211 and 265, 2d edition. London, 1718. [62] _Wafer's Voyages_, p. 214 & seq. [63] _Dampier_, Vol. I. Chap. 13, p. 352. [64] _Wafer's Voyages_, p. 220. [65] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 8. [66] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 9. [67] Late Observations place _Acapulco_ in latitude 16° 50' 41'' N, and longitude 100° 0' West of _Greenwich_. [68] _Dampier._ [69] See Chart in Spilbergen's Voyage. [70] _Dampier's Manuscript Journal._ [71] _Dampier_, Vol. I, p. 257. [72] In some old manuscript Spanish Charts, the _Chametly Isles_ are laid down SE-1/2S about 12 leagues distant from _Cape Corrientes_. [73] According to Captain Vancouver, _Point Ponteque_ and _Cape Corrientes_ are nearly North and South of each other. Dampier was nearest in-shore. [74] The Manuscript says, the farthest of the _Chametlan Isles_ from the main-land is not more than four miles distant. [75] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 9. [76] _Manuscript Journal._ [77] Dampier's Reckoning made the difference of longitude between _Cape Corrientes_ and the _Island Guahan_, 125 degrees; which is 16 degrees more than it has been found by modern observations. [78] _Dampier._ _Manuscript Journal_, and Vol. I, Chap. 10. of his printed Voyages. [79] The Ladrone flying proa described in Commodore Anson's voyage, sailed with the belly or rounded side and its small canoe to windward; by which it appears that these proas were occasionally managed either way, probably according to the strength of the wind; the little parallel boat or canoe preserving the large one upright by its weight when to windward, and by its buoyancy when to leeward. [80] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 11. [81] _Dampier_, Vol. I, Chap. 14. The long Island is named _Basseelan_ in the charts; but the shape there given it does not agree well with Dampier's description. [82] M. de Surville in 1769, and much more lately Captain A. Murray of the English E. I. Company's Service, found the South end of _Monmouth Island_ to be in 20° 17' N. [83] _Manuscript Journal._ [84] In the printed Voyage, the shoal is mistakenly said to lie SbW from the East end of _Timor_. The Manuscript Journal, and the track of the ship as marked in the charts to the 1st volume of _Dampier's Voyages_, agree in making the place of the shoal SbW from the West end of _Timor_; whence they had last taken their departure, and from which their reckoning was kept. [85] _A Voyage by Edward Cooke_, Vol. I, p. 371. London, 1712. [86] _Raveneau de Lussan_, p. 117. [87] _'Ce moyen êtoit a la verité un peu violent, mais c'etoit l'unique pour mettre les Espagnols à la raison.'_ [88] _Theatro Naval._ fol. 61, 1. [89] _Relation du Voyage de M. de Gennes_, p. 106. Paris, 1698. [90] Père Labat relates a story of a ridiculous effort in mechanical ingenuity, in which M. de Gennes succeeded whilst he was Governor at _Saint Christopher_. 'He made an Automaton in the likeness of a soldier, which marched and performed sundry actions. It was jocosely said that M. de Gennes might have defended his government with troops of his own making. His automaton soldier eat victuals placed before it, which he digested, by means of a dissolvent,'--_P. Labat_, Vol. V. p. 349. [91] See p. 207, near the bottom. * * * * * Transcriber's Note: Illustrations have been moved. Some sidenotes have been moved, separated or merged. Some repetitive sidenotes have been deleted. The following changes were made in the transcription of this work: to settle what constitues[constitutes] occupancy. recommended to King Ferdinand to recal[recall] Ovando. Pere[Père] Labat describes first cruisers againt[against] the Spaniards were English ['Camoes de Gama': Macron on e in Camoes is now omitted.] Vattel has decribed[described] this case. during a time of peace betwen[between] apppearance[appearance] of the land and was no[not] otherwise clad than the rest of his sqadron[squadron] The fruit is like the sea chesnut[chestnut] The same kind of maoeuvring[manoeuvring] of the _S[ta] Maria de l'Aguada_ and it was in[an] honour due from him who granted the commisson[commission] at _Saint Christopher_. [']He made an Automaton by means of a dissolvent,[']--_P. Labat_, [oe ligatures: ligature now omitted.] * * * * *